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[ WP ] `` I 'm not crazy ! Would a crazy person attach a robot arm on the back ? ! ''
| `` Actually, shitheel, I'm pretty sure they would.'' said Roger as he strained against the straps holding him in place. `` In fact I'm pretty sure that's the definition.''
Simon fidgeted nervously, his hands twisting around a middle button on his lab-coat. His silhouette was lit only by a thin strip of light coming from the slightly ajar laboratory door, which in truth was more of a massive bunker entrance.
`` Now look,'' said Simon. `` I've now shown you that this sort of thing is possible! We can improve humans, make ourselves more than we are. Those old farts at the institute have no imagination! This is only the beginning! You'll be the very first!''
As various green fluids bubbled in jars, Roger stared at the man in a state of apoplexy. `` Ourselves?'' he said. `` I do n't see you doing this to yourself. You've volunteered me against my will!'' The pity that had flowed through his heart just a few short hours ago was gone. He had only thought to visit his old friend and see if he was managing to deal with his dismissal. Now this.
`` It's not that bad.'' said Simon, a sheepish expression on his face. `` It will take some time for adjustment of course-''
`` What the fuck have you done to me?!'' roared Roger, panic finally settling in. The third arm snapped out and grabbed Simon by the neck, lifting him into the air. The man struggled but might as well have been trying to push over a bridge.
`` Perhaps you are n't crazy after all, Doctor Michaels.'' said Roger. `` Now why do n't we have a little talk?''
|
[ OT ] Writing Workshop # 32 : Breaking Your Barriers # 6 : Emotions
| I have zero idea if this is NSFW, as it references sex but does n't go into a lot of detail. Bother me if it's too much and I'll restructure or delete it.
*****
Erika sat on the edge of the bed, watching the way the passing headlights lit up the window. Her shirt was crumpled over her feet, her jeans unzipped but still covering both legs. One bra strap slid down a shoulder, the other in place, and both her arms wrapped around her stomach. Ensconced in it, both envelopped in and covering the flat white folds of her unrestrained girth.
Shame like the shadow that covered the room.
She heard Paul struggling behind her, the irregular thump of his legs on the carpeted ground. His bedroom was still like a boy's, still proudly displaying its movie posters and old liquor bottles. He was thirty-nine years old. She felt the bed dimple as he rested a knee on it. Heard the crinkle of the condom wrapper as he tore it apart, the grunt and struggle as he worked with it. The room smelled like old beer, new gin. The minutes passed.
Cars passing below the window. The room was drowned in shadow, though the diffuse light passed over it like slow-motion lightning. A glimmer, and she saw the bright whiteness pass over the mountains of her knees. Another illuminated her flat breasts, smaller mounds over the wholeness of her stomach.
`` I'm sorry,'' slurred Paul, `` it's been a while''
She could feel him staring at her back, at the swollen oval of her figure. She could hear him shuffling, trying to feel... something. Arousal. Something that could pass for it, if you squinted. God, how had she gotten like this?
She looked fine in the shirt. Good, even. It cinched below her small breasts, highlighting them, minimizing the stomach. When she got dressed that evening she felt... well, not good about herself. Never that. But confident, better than the usual, better than how she felt when she'd catch her profile in the smeared reflection of a store window. But she knew it would have to be like this, eventually. She was a girl, alone, in a bar. People knew what that meant. The offer.
Paul was grunting. She could feel the heaviness of his breathing. `` Must be the whiskey,'' he slurred. But Erika knew. She knew what she was.
Another flash of light. It crept up from her left, over one oversized leg barely contained within the pale denim. The feet, beneath the crumpled shirt - little pale hooves, fat, almost spherical, almost comically tipped with the little red nails. The light crept up over the mountain of her stomach, that huge, obscene, revolting, pendulous thing. The hamlike arms. The two jokes of her breasts. The rounded shoulders, the stickman sphere of the head. The thin yellow hair, like a wig stapled to a bloodless, butchered hog. Disgusting. She was disgusting. Every second that she was forced to look at herself was disgusting.
Then the light passed. Erika looked over her shoulder. There was Paul, half knelt on the edge of the bed. Nude. Older than her. Best she could get. Pulling from a flask.
`` I'm ready'', he lied, and reached out to touch the mound of her shoulder.
She lied, too. Said she always cried during sex.
|
[ cw ] A boy and a girl and a cat and a tree : Write a story of at least 250 words about them using only single syllable words .
| A boy and a girl and a cat and a tree. Count them all up and you will get three. The tree is too tall and the boy has no balls. The cat wears a hat and the girls name is Earl. Too tall tree and no ball boy looked and looked to play with a toy. But Toy was not here or there it seemed, but in the sky a small star was seen. Hat cat and Earl, bored as they were, flew to a cloud in search of her. French fries, big eyes, and horse flies were found. Right next to Toy they were bound. No ball boy and too tall tree joined them now, but think of what they said when they saw the cow. `` HOLY SHIT GUYS IT A COW ON A CLOUD, NOT OVER THE MOON! HELP HIM GOD AND HELP HIM SOON!''
|
[ WP ] A man who has suffered depression his entire life throws himself off a building . is miraculously unharmed and realises he is cured .
| The horizon lay expansive and clear as the man's nostrils were engulfed in what would be his final breaths. Shaky hands belied his steely expression as he became increasingly more resolute in his final decision. He was unsure three weeks ago when his wife had cheated on him. He was unsure 8 days ago when he lost his job at a high profile banking institution. He was still unsure three days ago when he could not even enjoy the repose which came with sleep. Yet here, 20 stories from the pavement and miles away from anyone he knew or cared to know, he had never been more certain of anything in his life. He swayed, with perspiring palms and lively senses as he leaped into the virgin air, plummeting. It was quick. It was painless. Too painless. In fact, there was no pain at all. The man looked up as pedestrians ignored what had just been a miracle of Biblical proportions. No one noticed him even now as he lay prone. He was baffled at his survival and his once resolute desire to take his life was gone. The man asked the nearby porter if he had seen him fall. The porter had n't even seen the man. Neither had the couple waiting for a taxi or the Taxi Driver for that matter. It was as if the last minute had n't happened. The man decided this was as obvious a sign as any and began to walk. Where to, he had n't a clue. All he knew was that he would vindicate this second chance for he was certain he would not receive a third.
|
[ WP ] You are now Satan . Your goal is to sway as many followers of God away from their salvation as possible . How do you do it ?
| Satan was sitting on his stool, staring at his new friend.
`` Let me ask you a question... What is paradise?''
The soul looked puzzled, and started to think about it. Staying with his family, with money.. video games? A bewildered look overcame the pale ghostly figure.
`` Exactly, paradise is determined by your desire. Desire is the power I have given humanity. Without desire, you would n't want or even care about a paradise...''
The devil said smugly
The pale ghost looked toward the devil with its ambigous features swirling to and fro.
`` So, God's reward is abolition of our humanity... BUT I DONT WANT TO DIE!'' The soul screamed, the pulsing sound echoing into the void.
Satan chuckled, and gestured toward the portal to hell.
`` Welcome my friend.''
|
[ TT ] Someone walks into a REAL haunted house , while thinking it 's one of those tourist attractions .
| It was the annual night of fright in the town of Nightville. James was doing the final touches to his costume before heading to a friends house party.
'Just a little bit more blood around the eyes, yup, Perfect', James said to himself while applying a thick red liquid to his face.
The night of fright was Nightvilles favorite time of year. Nearly all the residents would dress up for the festivities. Some people would even decorate their homes for the residents to explore. Nightville was a safe place. While the elderly handed out candy and toys for children, The adults would get together for a night of casual drinking. James was neither a child nor an adult, He was a teenager. A teenager who had just discovered alcohol.
James hopped into his old pickup and looked up at the family photo above his head clipped to the sun visor. The photo consisted of James, his mother and father. Part of the photo had been burnt. James' eyes began to swell with water. He took a deep breath, started his truck and proceeded to drive down the gravel road. He flicked on the radio to Nightvilles FM radio station. Being that James was quite a ways out of town he had to listen to it through copious amounts of static.
'PZZZ... People are already gathering... PZZZ... Zombies, vampires, ghosts... PZZZ.... Smiling faces everywhere', The radio said.'PZZZ... Here's one for all the witches out there... PZZZ... Witchy Women by The Eagles... PZZZ'.
The radio would clear up a little after James hit pavement but He was used to the static on the radio and it did n't bother him. Static music was better than the sound of gravel hitting the bottom of his truck anyway. He was tapping his steering wheel to the beat of the song. His headlights were dirty so the light did n't stretch far and the new moon provided zero back-ups for him to see. Around mile 4 James saw a green glow coming from a large farm house. This was peculiar since the house seemed to spring up overnight.
'Must be a Fright night haunted house', He thought,'Weird that they put it up this far out of town'.
James was in no rush to get to the party so he decided to check out the glowing greenhouse to get him in the Fright night spirit. He pulled up to the house and noticed the driveway was filled with vehicles. James found this to be even more peculiar since he had n't seen any other vehicles driving on the road. He got out of his truck and eyed the house, It was much bigger than he previously thought. James knocked on the front door, in a flash the door swung open crashing against the wall of the house. James smiled.
'Nice job guys', James said referring to whoever built the attraction.
James took a few steps into the house, the floorboards creaking under his feet.
'It's really quiet for the amount of vehicles parked outside', thought James as he looked down the long dark hall.
Suddenly the door smashed closed causing him to Jump
'What the Fu-', James was cut off by the scream of a women in the next room.
'Hello!', James yelled to the next room.
'Where the hell is everybody?'
James walked slowly into the room, he was on his guard expecting something to jump out at him. Nothing did.
'Anybody here!?', He yelled to the darkness.
Suddenly he heard the scream again, but this time it was louder and coming from behind him. He turned around to see where the scream was coming from but there was nothing. The screaming did n't stop and got louder and louder until James could hear it in his head.
'Okay, I'm done, stop it please, you scared me, you win, I want out!', James fell to his knees and was holding his head.
'Please stop, PLEASE!'.
The screaming stopped and only silence remained.
'I got ta get out'a here', said James,'This is too real'.
James ran to where the front door was only now it was just peeling wallpaper. He did n't understand. He started banging on the wall.
'Somebody out there?!', He yelled,'Anybody?! Please!'
Silence.
James ran back into the front room and looked out the window. The driveway that was filled with vehicles a moment ago was now empty, including James' pickup. He was shocked. He began to scream again. Tired from yelling James sat down on the window sill and hung his head.
'Please', He said under his breath.
The fireplace across the room lit up instantly covering the room in an orange glow. The light revealed to James that the room was the one from his childhood home. James stood up and walked toward the mantle above the fireplace, his eyes swelled with tears. He saw the same family photo that was clipped to his sun visor.
'No, not this, anything but this', James pleaded to the house.
He heard two familiar voices behind him. James turned around and saw the back of his mother and fathers head. Astonished, James walked around the couch and saw his Mother and Father sitting on the couch. He fell to his knees.
'Is it really you?', James said.
His parents did n't react, they continued to only talk to one another as if James was n't there.
'Mom, Dad, It's me!', He said with tears rolling down his cheeks,' It's me, James'.
As James stared at his parents in disbelief a spark had jumped from the fire and started to burn on the carpet. The flames spread across the ground and up the walls quickly. James got up and tried to stomp the flames out. The flames kept burning.
'No, no, no!', He yelled, stamping his feet on the flames.'Not again!'.
His parents continued talking, paying no attention to the flames creeping up the legs on the couch.
James walked slowly backward staring at his parents until nearly the whole room was engulfed in flame. He turned around and that's when he heard them screaming. James plugged his ears and curled up on the ground.
'And for all you Boys and Ghouls out there getting ready for Nightvilles Annual Night of Fright. Here's *Do n't fear the reaper by Blue Oyster Cult*!'
James woke up to the radio, His bed sheets soaked in sweat.
Relieved, James took a deep breath and exhaled.
*'It was just a nightmare'*.
James got ready for school. He walked outside, hopped into his pickup and smiled at his family photo clipped above him. He drove down the gravel road with the radio buzzing in and out of focus. In the distance, James saw thick black smoke billowing up in the sky and sirens whistling. He turned down the radio. As James approached Mile 4 he saw fire trucks hosing down a burned down house. He pulled to the shoulder of the road and stared in disbelief.
|
[ EU ] `` Macho Man '' Randy Savage is about to do battle with an abstract or philosophical concept in the squared circle . Give us the on camera pre-fight Rant with Mean Gene .
| `` Macho Man Randy Savage, today you face an opponent unlike any you have squared off against before. Just how do you propose to overcome the pure concept of Causality?''
`` WELL LET ME LAY SOMETHING OUT FOR YA MEAN GENE, THE MACHO MAN HAS FOUGHT AND TRIUMPHED AGAINST ALL SORTS OF NATURAL FORCES TO MAINTAIN THE INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPIONSHIP! HULLLLKAMANIA WAS NO MATCH FOR THE MACHO MADNESS yeahh AND EVEN THE POWER OF THE ULTIMATE WARRIOR WAS CAST BACK TO PARTS UNKNOWN BY THE MACHO MAN. CAUSE AND EFFECT? THE MACHO MAN IS ALREADY THE EFFECT BEFORE THE CAUSE!! BECAUSE LET ME TELL YA SOMETHING ABOUT THE MACHO MAN yeahh
*produces a coffe creamer from his wristband*
HES THE CREEEAM OF THE CROP, AND HIS EFFECT IS TO RISE TO THE TOP
*raises creamer in the air, placing it on Mean Genes head, Gene brushes it away*
IM COMIN FROM ALL CORNERS, AND SOME LITTLE PHILOSOPHICAL CONCEPT AINT GON NA BE ABLE TO HANDLE THE MACHO MADNESS. CAUSE WHERE IM COMIN FROM SPACE IS THE PLACE, AND WERE CLIMBING THE TOWWWER OF POWER CAUSE WERE TOO SWEET TO BE SOUR. SO LET ME TELL YA RIIIIGHT NOW CAUSALITY, IM GON NA BE DROPPING YOU
*pulls out a small trash can*
RIGHT INTO THE GARBAGE, WHERE YOU BELONG, OOOOOH YEAAAAAH!
*flicks garbage can at camera*
But Macho man, this is a universal law were-
UNIVERSAL LAWS CANT CONTAIN THE MACHO MADNESS, OHH NO. BECAUSE THE MACHO MAN IS TOO HOT TO HANDLE, AND TOO COLD TO HOLD. SO BEFORE WE STEP INTO THE RING, LET ME TELL YA ONE THING. CAUSALITY, YOURE GON NA BE THE MACHO MANS NEXT CASUALITY OOOOOOOOOOHHH YEEEEAAAAAHHH!
*smacks mic out of Mean Genes hand, storms out muttering*
|
[ WP ] A young boy digging for dinosaur bones finds something else in his backyard .
| `` I was five fucking years old. You know how messed up that is, doc?''
*'' Into the mic please, Andrew. `` *
`` Sorry doc. It is n't just me that thinks it's messed up though, right?''
*'' I have had suprisingly quite a few clients who share a similar experience with yourself. Yes, it is quite'messed up'. `` *
`` I was just looking for dinosaur bones, you know, like every five year old does. I was n't looking for...... well, *who does? *''
The shrink shrugged his shoulders. *'' Tell me Andrew what your immediate feelings were when you...'discovered' her. `` *
`` Well, it was like....''
The shrink once again pointed to the microphone.
`` Sorry, well how do you think I reacted? I was confused. Why was somebody sleeping beneath the soil in our garden?''
*'' But you did n't shout for anyone to help her though, did you? `` *
`` What are you talking about doc? I shouted for my father immediately!''
*'' Did you? `` *
`` Did I? What the fuck are you suggesting, doc?''
*'' I'm saying that while no one was around, you took full advantage of your position'' *
`` I do n't have to listen to this bullshit, I'm leaving...''
*'' Sit the FUCK down Andrew. Now tell me, what did you do to her? `` *
A tear rolled down my face. `` I did n't do anything.''
*'' Andrew, tell the truth. I ca n't help you if keep denying it. `` *
A soft, pathetic whimper left my mouth.
*'' You pulled up her shirt, placed your hand under her bra and felt her breasts, did n't you? `` *
I remained silent, with more tears falling down my scrunched up face.
*'' But that was n't enough, was it Andrew? Five year old Andy was experiencing his first semi, was n't he? And you had seen those videos your older brother Oliver had been watching, and you wanted to try it yourself, did n't you? `` *
I remained silent.
*'' How did her panties feel? You told me before you have a fetish for lace. Were they made of lace, Andrew? `` *
I stood up and threw my fist into the wall, leaving a hole where my hand had just been.
*'' I bet it was so embarrassing when your father came outside and caught you fucking a dead girl'' *
`` Shut the FUCK up, doc! You were n't there, you do n't know what the fuck happened.''
*'' I do n't need to have been there Andrew. I'm just your subconcious, punishing you for all the bad shit that you've done. `` *
***
`` FUCK OFF!!! FUCK OFF FUCK OFF, FFUUCCK OFF!!''
The nurse came running towards me.
`` Mr Stevens, please calm down. You're upsetting everyone.''
I looked at her, and imagined what I could do to her if she was dead and buried in my backyard.
`` Fuck you!''
|
[ WP ] When the Catholic church created the list of deadly sins they were based on demonic hybrids of humans . There were originally eight sins however nobody in the church could remember the eighth sin because it was among them . It 's name was Dolus .
| Dolus. Deceit. A demon beyond measure, and it has infiltrated our most Holy Church. This demon I must fight back to the gates of Hell.
Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Pierre de Riquewihr. I am a member of the now-disbanded Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon, more commonly known as the Knights Templar. I was long ago granted extended life by the grace of God, during which I no longer age. I have watched as the demon, Dolus, rose enemies against our Church, trying to break us apart. When the infernal beast rose Saracen armies and led them across Northern Africa and the Middle East, a savage imperialist march of greed and extremism. Unfazed, the forces of Rome raised us and other knightly orders to fight this menace to the innocent. We had eventually succeeded at stoping their bloodthirsty rampage, negotiating a treaty to which they were bound. Even still, they continued attacking, but we could fend off their smaller invasions now. I watched as it drew closer, influencing Italian bankers to trap Crusaders of the Fifth Crusade in the chains of debt, inducing them to cut a swath through Christian cities. I alone abstained, trading my horse and it's armor as collateral and made haste in my journey towards Rome to warn the Papacy of the infernal deed that had transpired. The excommunication of the knights was swift. It was too late that I realized that Dolus had infiltrated our beloved Church, when Pope Clement V, an instrument of Dolus, disbanded the Knights Templar and slaughtered what Knights he could find. I watched as Dolus created enemies from within and without, from the Hussites before it's infiltration of us to the infernal armies of the Saracen. I was accepted into the Teutonic Order, kept a secret, not only because of my being a Templar Knight but of my lifespan as well. I fought back Dolus as the centuries passed, my triumph slow but inevitable. By the grace of God, I would drive this demon back to the depths of Hell. Dolus and I fought for a long time, for centuries canceling each other out. And still to this day, over a thousand years since my birth, I fight Dolus. He is within our Church, attempting to corrupt it, but he is failing, as he always has been. He is but one and we are many. One day, I promise, to all of you faithful, that I will defeat this demon once and for all. One day....
|
[ Wp ] Many species such a Orcs , Humans , and Dwarves adapted well to industrialization , however no one expected Dragons to thrive in this new world .
| With a flap of my wings, I land in the new city. A lot less pretty, trash was everywhere, strange pigments were on the walls to shape names and animals, humans, and such.. I walk down the sidewalk, the claws
at the end of my wings ever so slightly dragging against the cement wall of a skyscraper. Orcs and humans walking by stare at me like I was from a whole different book genre.. I feel disgusting. I squeeze through the door once I know. *this is it. I'm getting my first job. * the short and ugly Orc at the lobby table stares at me, while filing her claws with a flimsy piece of plastic. I roar as quietly as I can, which is n't that quiet with my low and raspy voice `` u-Um.. Im here for a job review''. She just stares. She whips out her phone and clicks Instagram. I get uncomfortable as she clicks record on me. This is n't okay. She bursts out laughing and says `` LOOKAT THIS GIRL!'' And did a strange hand motion, it looked like a karate chop. She says still laughing, `` OKAY OKAY SIGN HERE! AHAAA!'' She knows I do n't have a thumb. She's still recording. She's laughing her little extra sized pants off. I awkwardly bend my head sideways then grab the men in my jaws. I flinch as the pen bursts, and ink covers my snout and fangs. She laughs harder. I still hear the faint beep of the recording. A human taps my tail and says `` hurry up you oversized crocodile!'' My sensative tail lets a rod of pain shoot up my back. I roar in pain, and in uncontrollable reflex, I raise on my haunches. I burst the low ceiling, and into the upper floor. I pass out. When I wake up, I'm outside of the large city. Chained to a castle wall. Here it goes again. Just like the old times.
|
[ WP ] a Man is willing to give up his family ; but why ?
| `` Why John why?!'' Melissa asked. Every day for the past 6 days it had been that question or a variant thereof. Today was the final day.
`` You know why Melissa, this is way is has to be. There is n't any choice. If we do n't do this, you know what happens.''
`` I do n't understand why is has to be you, let someone else go, get them to make an exception, you've got a family for God's sake!!''
`` You know they wo n't allow that baby. I do n't like it, in fact I fucking HATE it, but there's nothing I can do. If I do n't go...'' He did n't finish it. He did n't have to. They both know knew what was at stake. It was something much larger than the four of them.
`` What do I tell David and Jessica, John, how do I even begin to explain this to them. They're eight and six, how will they ever possibly understand this. How can they comprehend it?!''
`` Tell them the truth. Tell them their father left so he could not only save the world, but hopefully further it. One day, hopefully, we'll be able to return. If we can, think of all the things we can do, think of all the things the future will hold. Think of the world they'll get to live in!''
The Secret Service agent stationed near them gave John the signal. It was time.
`` Melissa I love you. I've always loved you and watching you be a mother to our kids as been the joy in my life. I'll always be in your heart. Love our kids twice as much and always tell them daddy will be looking down from the stars at them''
`` I love you John, I love you so much!'' Tears streamed down her face and the Secret Service agent led him to the podium. Nine other agents did the same. Ten men lined up against a curtain, an empty podium awaited. Cameras lined up everywhere, flashing constantly. Broadcasting this event to billions around the world.
The President appeared, and took his place at the podium.
`` Ladies and gentleman. Fourteen days ago, mankind received the answer to a question that people have pondered since the dawn of man. Are we alone in the universe? A race of beings, who call themselves the Sect, and hail from some as of yet discovered system in the stars made itself known to us and threatened our planet with annihilation. After meeting with our world leaders we were able to reach an agreement with these beings that would save our planet. Sadly the agreement will cost us ten of the finest minds that our planet has to offer. In exchange for our continued existence these individuals must agree to leave with the Sect. We have been told they will receive all the knowledge the Sect possess and that when they have helped the Sect they can use that knowledge to return to Earth and advance mankind. Today is the day they leave, on a voyage to a world far beyond our own. Please join me in wishing them bon voyage on their journey. Please join me in saluting our new heroes. Ladies and gentlemen here, and billions watching around the world, I give you the Ten!''
|
[ WP ] Your microwave has always beeped irregularly , one day you decide to try to translate it into morse .
| Robert always wondered about that old thing. It was n't his, it was his grandmothers. She died broke, all she had to pass down to Rob was this old microwave. He reckoned that old thing must've come across the Atlantic on the fucking Mayflower, with how bulky it is, its permanent yellow stains, how uneven it cooked food, and most of all, the beeps it makes.
The beeps were really something, but he never really took note of it until he started taking morse class. It was an elective, and he had nothing better to take, so he figured fuck it, why not? It did n't take him long to realize that shitty microwave that sits in his dorm was beeping in morse.
He sort of chucked to himself when he realized. It must've been a little fun thing the creator of the microwave put in for people who knew morse to appreciate. An Easter Egg, almost. It was very basic code, took seconds. But what it was saying, what it was saying was truly baffling.
The morse very roughly translated to `` I'm gon na need about tree fiddy''. That's when Robert realized that all along, the microwave was actually about 500 feet tall and from the Paleolithic Era. That god damn Loch Ness monster got him again! He told the monster, he ai n't gon na give him no tree fiddy!
|
[ WP ] a band of adventurers set out to stop an insane wizard who is trying to create an army of undead warriors but inadvertently unleash the zombie apocalypse on the world , the hero 's are trying to make their way back to warn the king and one of their party has been bitten .
| `` Mika?'' May stuttered, not wanting to believe that one of her best friends and strongest team members had been bitten by a zombie. `` Mika, Mikaela, are you okay? Please, please tell me that you're okay!''
May jolted up from her bed with a cold sweat. It had already been a week since Mika, or really Mikaela, was bitten. `` D*mn that wizard. Why did he have to try to create an'undead army?' Why could n't he have just decided to create an army of living beings like any other normal person.'' She mumbled, turning over on her bed to face the wall. `` May, are you okay?'' Another team member, Lucy, asked her. May wanted to ignore her, but knowing her personality, she knew that there was no way she'd be able to. `` Yeah, I'm fine.'' May lied. It was quite obvious that after Mika's death, May was the one who cried most. She would n't eat and had a hard time sleeping, worrying the rest of her team known as, the `` Fire Cats.'' `` May, get some sleep. You'll need it for tomorrow. I hear that the closer we get to the palace, the more dangerous it becomes.'' Lucy notified her. May simply muttered a quick `` fine,'' before trying to sleep again.
Morning came a lot quicker than May expected it to. `` May! Get up! We have to go to the capital city today!'' The most annoying member on her team, Yukketeru, yelled. May glared daggers at him for waking her up from the one night that was n't sleepless. `` May, are you okay?'' He asked, noticing her glare. She sighed and sat up, knowing that she would be woken up at one point or another, anyway. `` Yeah, I'm fine. Now, who else is ready to kick some zombie butt!''
While walking to the capital city, Castle Town, to aware the shut in king that an apocalypse had broken out, the group stumbled across another horde of zombies. Just as she was getting ready to strike, May realized one specific human, or rather zombie, in the crowd. Backing away, May stared in horror. `` No, no, no! This, this ca n't be happening!''
`` May, what's wrong?''
`` That's what's wrong!'' May shouted, dramatically pointing at one of the zombies that happened to resemble Mikaela. `` It's freaking Mika, guys! It's, it's actually Mika! It's actually Mika.'' The rest of the group members shot May an apologetic glance, knowing what thoughts would be going through her mind. `` Guys, I think that I should just, you know, turn back.''
`` May, you are not leaving this team.''
`` And why is that?''
`` You're stronger than you think you are, a lot stronger.''
`` I do n't care! I'm going back!'' May shouted, gaining everyone, and everything's, attention. `` Ah, crap.'' She muttered, the grasp on her sword's hilt strengthening as more zombies approached the `` Fire Cats.'' `` Now look at what you've done! We're screwed now, all because of you!'' The hot headed team member, Kuroha, scolded causing May to glare. `` Well I'm sorry I'm not perfect and actually care that we might have to actually kill Mika!''
`` I do care, but I'm not going to yell and cause our possible demise because of him.''
`` Shut up, Kuroha!''
`` Oh wait, I think I've figured something out. You, you liked Mikaela as more than I friend! Guys, May liked Mika as more than a friend!'' Kuroha exclaimed, leaving May in a blushing mess. `` Screw you, Kuroha.'' Was the last thing May was able to say before looking to her side. There she saw her undead best friend, about to murder her. She held a look of horror, not because she was about to be bitten, but because Mikaela had collapsed on the ground, officially dead. Once she had comprehended what just happened, a loud scream was heard throughout Castle Town.
As they entered Castle Town's palace to aware the king off what was happening outside, the group noticed a major switch in May's mood. `` Hello, King Oz. We're here to notify you about what has been going on outside!'' Lucy exclaimed, only to receive a glare from Oz. `` Okay. Then what's going on outside?'' `` Nothing much. Just a freaking zombie apocalypse from a wizard who thinks he can do just about any d*mn thing he wants to.'' May responded, joining in on the conversation. Oz stared at May, wondering why she was reacting like she was. `` The person she loved was bitten, and murdered in front of her eyes. I feel bad for her, really.'' Kuroha simply stated, receiving a teary glare from May before she suddenly collapsed.
Unfortunately, the group had failed to realize Yukketeru's bite mark, and all suffered an untimely demise by the hands of a friend.
( Enjoy the ending. I'm totally a decent human being for ending the story like that. R.I.P `` Fire Cats.'' )
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[ WP ] Instead of continents and oceans , landmasses are massive plateaus , that drop off suddenly into dry , sandy and inhabitable wastelands . An expedition is about to cross the largest waste known .
| From the personal log of Eliot Moore.
Day 3.
It took us 3 days to descend to the wastelands from the Great Atlantic Cliff. The original plan said it would take us two days. I did n't see anyone smile any more on day 3. We lost 3 men that day. Apparently the `` unbreakable'' ropes are not unbreakable.
At least we are here now. Sort of. We still need to track the shallow slope towards the real Wastelands. I am more exhausted than I ever have been in my life.
Day 6.
The heat was unbearable at the bottom of the great cliff. Now it is beyond that. We reached the Wastelands. Communication with the top has been erratic. As expected. Somehow it is more real now. I rationally expected communications to halt to a grind the further we went in based on known probe data but experiencing it is simply unnerving. It would be easier if we would know why.
Day 7.
We stopped moving during the day. Too hot. We had a soldier faint earlier. No biggie right? Except that he never got up again. His buddies dug a shallow grave.
Major Miller ordered his men to strip of all unnecessary gear. Which makes you wonder really, because all the gear was deemed necessary by 7 years of planning and countless committees. Did n't see any of his men protest or give any hint at questioning the order. I guess they know more than I do. I am just a biologist.
Day 8.
My primary tablet fried in the day heat. Using my backup. At least nobody died today. Two thumbs up for that.
Miller sure is alpha as fuck though. He ordered half the science equipment to be dumped. That sure set off the scientists. Nothing more displeasing to a scientist than to state that their precious equipment is not worth taking along. Egos were severly bruised. Miller just shrugged his shoulders at the passionate protests. Peter, the geologist, could n't stop himself. He shouted hard in Miller's face, spraying him with saliva. Somehow Miller did n't really appreciate that and planted his fist into Peter's face. Peter stopped his protesting then. His face was probably more important to him that a multi-meter.
I guess it was kind of a OK move from Miller since Peter is indeed a dick in general. The whole fist punching event made me smile. That asshole lobbied hard for my space allocation on the expedition, and guess what, dear Peter got 34 % of my space transferred for his shitty useless equipment. Fuck him and his assistant. My postdoc had to stay home.
Day 9.
My smile is gone. Someone went missing during daytime rest. A soldier. His equipment was untouched. No blood. No traces. Nice. Communications have been down completely for 2 days. Is this what panic looks like? Everybody does their normal thing, but no conviction in it.
Day 11. No further incidents. The team psychologist thinks the missing soldier got a sun stroke and wandered off by himself. Sure, and why ca n't we see him on this flat terrain? Or his tracks. What a hack. Even his name is phony. George. Who names their kid George? Hacks.
Day 15. The mood has improved. We made camp for now. I finally had some time to do science. Not much to see though but ants. I have n't found any sign of other life forms. No plants. No other animals than this one ant species already known to science, thanks to telescopic observations and mechanical probes at the edge of the Wastelands. No Nobel prize here.
Day 16. Oh yes! A scientific breakthrough. I solved the mystery of the food source of the Giant Red Wasteland Ant. I found a small heap of ants. I poked it with my shoe. It was n't just a heap of ants, it was a bird's carcass covered in ants. Apparently these ants are scavengers of our biome.
Not sure how I am going to write this up though in my log. There was no way I could make any entry involving kicking something sound profound and scientific.
Maybe I should get the official probe stick from my bag. It was designed by a special committee. No sticks lying around in the wasteland. No trees. You need to bring your own poker.
Day 17.
Peter convinced Miller to move on. No treasures in the ground here apparently. Did n't even have time to visit the ant site. Someone should punch him in the face again. Same for George. He is full of shit.
Day 20.
We are deep into the wasteland. Something fried the engines of our lightweight hauler. It was designed by another committee. The engineers are n't smiling.
Day 21. Still stuck. I was summoned to the site of the hauler. The engineers were still not smiling. They showed me the electrical engines. Full of the Giant Red Wasteland Ants. Workers. Not soldiers. The engines were more fried than fried chicken.
They asked me of this was a known behavior. I pointed out that we know nothing about them and that is why we are here. When they remained quiet after my insightful remark I jokingly told them to whip out the spares. The engineers did n't say anything but `` thanks for you help'' and dismissed me.
I did n't say anything. I knew what this meant. There was a problem with the spares.
Day 22.
Peter's assistent is missing. George keeps smiling his fake smile. `` Sunstroke got to him''. What a hack.
Day 23.
The engineers got one of the four engines working. We are on the move again, albeit slowly. And we have to avoid hills. Not that there are any out here.
Day 24.
Major Miller seemed to have grown a distaste for George. I can not blame him. He is foul. Another soldier had disappeared. You guessed it right. A sunstroke according to George. That man is a broken record.
I approached Miller and asked if I could examine the site where Brad, father of two, originally from Ohio, but now residing in California, had been sleeping before he went walkies. I think I saw some kind of spark in his eyes then. Maybe he was happy to hear some other opinion than George's. Who can blame him.
This time I took my official probe stick designed by a committee. I guess it was n't completely useless. I had some sensible sensors attached to it, and combined with the processing power and apps on my tablet it could actually do some really nerdy stuff.
Below Brad's last resting place there was an ant nest. A biggie. The software estimated it went down 30 m. The estimated biomass of this colony was scientifically speaking mind-blowing. Brad would fit right in and it would n't even register. It seems we had a culprit.
I liked Miller more and more. He did n't protest my findings unlike George. Miller told him to shut the fuck up. Miller. My man!'
Miller was not a stupid man at all. He quickly assessed the situation and issued new orders. There would be designated sleeping teams. Three men each. One would stay awake while the rest slept, each taking a shift. Also I was to use my probing stick, designed by a committee, at each sleeping area to make sure nobody was sleeping on an ant nest.
Day 25.
Nobody died today. All kinds of people had been giving me a respectful wink or nod all day. Except George. He gave me the stink eye with his beady eyes. Fuck him.
Day 30.
FFS. Three men gone. One whole sleeping team. All smiles are gone again.
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[ WP ] You 're stranded on an island .
| I remember the plane. The aerial tour was the grand prize at that luau, but first sight of the plane put an end to any grandeur. It may as well have been held together with duct tape. The rusty red wings drooped against the for-show braces. The pilot ’ s breath smelled of a few too many whiskey sours and his jokes about parachutes should have been enough to keep me away. I did turn to walk away, but I could see her face against the back window of the Jeep. I didn ’ t want to let her down.
One moment, the pilot was pointing out a rocky cove below the craft, the next I was waking up face down in wet sand. There was some falling in there, too, I ’ m sure. I ’ ve seen too many movies to not know where I was. Stranded on some island in the south Pacific. I had to find a way to call for help. I had to find if the pilot survived. I had to located food and water. I had to find shelter.
All of the movies on Netflix couldn ’ t prepare me for what I saw when I mustered the strength to lift my head. There was a house, two stories with a garage that opened out straight into the ocean. The French doors were ajar, letting a crack of electric light join the intense sun. Naturally, my first instinct was that I wasn ’ t on some remote island after all. But that theory lasted only until I got to my feet. There was nothing but a sliver of sand and ocean to the left of the house. Same thing on the right. The island had no trees or grass, just this transplanted suburban home.
Perhaps it was the crashing waves at my back that pushed me in, but I did not hesitate to enter the house despite its impossibility. I was immediately greeted by a staircase with a hallway running to its right. Further to the right was a den, bare of any furnishings. To the left, a dining room sat with an unset table and no chairs. I ignored the stairs and continued down the hallway. Another carpeted room, devoid of furniture, sat nestled under the stair case. The hardwood floors became laminate as the hall ended to mark the start of the kitchen.
The kitchen had another table, light brown wood, with a matching chair. Resting on the table was a manila folder with “ Read Me ” in large bold print. I flipped the cover to reveal a small stack of documents. At the top was a letter.
`Dear Paul`
It was for me. My lungs defied my wishes to breathe.
`What are we doing? Who are we trying to fool? `
“ Where are we? ” the pilot asked, standing behind me.
“ I don ’ t know, ” I responded. “ Some island. Some house. Could be anywhere? ”
“ No, I meant where are *we*? ”
I distantly echoed, “ We? ”
“ Keep reading. ”
The pilot walked over to some cabinets on the wall.
`We used to be different. We used to care. We used to mean`
`something to each other. But now? We ’ re oceans apart. I ’ m`
`sorry to tell you like this, but it ’ s time we move on. It ’ s time`
`to wake up. I will always care for you, but I can ’ t bear to try`
`loving you anymore.`
`-Dara`
Dara. That face in the Jeep. My eyes were fixed on the words when the glass of liquor was thrust in front of me. I grabbed it in one hand, keeping the letter clutched firmly in the other.
“ Here, ” the pilot urged. “ This will clear your head. ”
Clear my head. That ’ s what she said about the ticket. She was the one who won them. She was the one who insisted I go instead.
“ It will clear your head, ” she claimed.
“ Any idea where this is? ” the pilot asked.
“ It was our home. ”
“ Kind of empty, don ’ t you think? ”
“ We never moved in. I mean, it was *going* to be our home. One day. ”
“ What do you mean by ‘ one day? ’ ” he asked between drinks. He seemed completely oblivious to my state.
I ignored the question and started wandering the rooms. At each, I pictured how our things, the pictures, the linens, the books would all fit in. I pictured the life I thought we would have had. I let the crumpled letter fall to the floor. The ever-prying pilot wasted no time in picking it up and reading it aloud.
“ What ’ s this at the botton? ”
“ Her name, ” I called back with as much hate as I could manage.
“ No, I meant the PS. ”
I snatched the paper from his hands, ripping the top half.
`PS. It ’ s time to wake up`
“ That waking up thing. You got any idea? ”
He finished his drink and stared in the glass at the bare bottom. I just shook my head and kept walking. The master bath had no windows, so I had to fumble around for a light switch. As the bulbs roused to life, I was greeted by my own image. The mirror stole my attention. I was crying. But there was something else. The pilot, his salty breath still my nostrils, was missing. I knew he was there, though, as my hair was blowing against the rush of air. I turned to face him, but he was so far away, just a red dot against the clear blue sky.
Back on the mirror, I was trying to tell myself something.
“ It ’ s time to wake up. ”
He was right. It was time. I nodded. As I did, his figure vanished. The mirror drew me in with overwhelming force. I tightened my grip on the letter, the one I wrote, my response. My hair whipped furiously as my speed increased. The emptiness in the pane filled with a greenish blue. In the center stood a group of jagged rocks. I was on my way home.
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[ WP ] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words , 2nd sentence has 19 , 3rd has 18 etc . Story ends with a single word .
| Of all the things that could have gone wrong today, I was expecting something simple like losing my keys again. I have a baby on the way and a new client at work; these are the worries on my mind. But as I stare aghast at the terrible message on my phone nothing could matter less to me. What do the mundane comings and goings of my life matter in the face of such horror?
I can not think, I can not move, I can do nothing but stare with my jaw slack. The weight of seven billion human lives bears down on me like a collapsing building. Over the ringing in my ears I can hear the wails of my neighbour. I wonder absently if it is like this the world over, and whimper.
It occurs to me that I do n't know where my wife is. I come alive, grateful for this small way I can act. I start the call with no doubt that she knows. It is not for her sake, but for mine.
With no answer I turn to her boss. He keeps apologising, he could n't have known. They sent her to New York.
She sent a message yesterday. It had heart emoji. Now she's gone. To dust. Nuked.
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[ WP ] Convey a mood by describing a landscape .
| Around five miles from town, dust covers the horizon. It boils, clouds bubbling and roiling into the sky, creeping forward. Every so often, a bright flash of light appears, static electricity forming when tiny particles spark. A head of tan, bejeweled with streaks of lightning.
It's coming.
Windows are sealed, doors are locked tight. Rags are stuffed under any cracks in the wooden walls, and from within, people hold themselves close. Mothers try to comfort children, while men watch through dirty glass as the sun vanishes behind the fog.
The storm is coming. All they can do is watch the tan horizon, and wait.
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[ WP ] You are able to see the number of days a person has left to live above their heads . For the first time in your life , you see someone with a negative number .
| Crowds are the worst.
Frank squints through the flurry of hovering digits as he shoulders his way through the masses of shoppers. The cacophony of vociferous patrons, distressed employees, and typical Black Friday commotion crescendos around him. He pauses to watch two shoppers vie over the last remaining television monitor ( only $ 600! ). One is a blonde woman whose pigtails have been jostled into disarray; above her hovers the number 10951. The other is n't as fortunate; the number 582 glows above her greying hair.
Frank sighs. He's sure there's something … vaguely poignant about fighting over a product priced at a greater value than your remaining days of life. Socio-rhetorical commentary on modern consumerism, perhaps. He has little time to contemplate, however, as another shopper impatiently shoves him forward, and Frank resumes his pace.
While he walks, Frank studies the various faces passing by: a woman in an elegant, blue hijab; a portly, bearded man; a fatigued mother clutching her two children by the hands.... It helps to distract him from the imminent reminder looming over their heads. Every so often his gaze falls on a single-digit number, and his breath catches for an instant. Even after all this time, his chest pangs in pity for these absolute strangers. Sometimes the inevitability is understandable - wrinkled skin, ancient eyes - but not always. A little girl who could n't possibly be older than 8 crosses his path, giggling and skipping after her father, but Frank averts his eyes. The number 3 trails after her, rigid and menacing.
It is n't long before Frank locates the shelves after shelves of toilet paper: ultra strong, ultra soft, sensitive, lavender-scented, mega-roll, double-ply …. His eyebrows furrow in disbelief and confusion. Is it really a sale if the pack of 18 single-rolls is the same price as the pack of 9 double-rolls? Is this ultra-plush pack of 12 mega rolls equivalent to the pack of 15 single-ply rolls ( enhanced with Vitamin E )? He ca n't remember what he'd bought previously. Everything seems too expensive for something so temporary. He's itching for a calculator, and the clamor of shoppers in the background is n't helping. Why did he pick today of all days to buy toilet paper? Idiot, idiot, idiot.
With a sigh, Frank kneels down and wraps his arms around the closest package he can find. His fingers dig shallow depressions into the soft material as he grunts, heaves the package upward … and slams into a body beside him.
The body collapses to the ground, and a breathy voice cries, `` Oof.''
`` Shit, sorry.'' Frank shifts the package to his left hand and extends his right. Firm fingers grip Frank's, and he pulls upward.
`` No problem; should've been paying more attention to where I was going,'' she says with a rueful smile. She brushes off her yellow skirt and sweeps the black hair out of her face.
Frank's gaze drifts upward, and his heart stops. The package falls from his arms, bouncing lightly onto the ground.
`` Woah, you okay there? Here, lem me get that for you.''
As she kneels, the number -782 hovers above her head.
~
Half an hour later, they find themselves sitting across from each other in uncomfortable silence at a local coffee shop. Business is slower than usual; the regular patrons are likely too enamored with the Black Friday sales to be wasting their time at a measly coffee shop. The girl - who introduced herself as Felicity - is casually sipping a caramel latte. A package of toilet paper ( a 6-pack of 2-ply rolls, on Felicity's recommendation ) sits at Frank's side.
Felicity breaks the silence. `` So you're telling me … you can see how long a person has to live?'' she asks with a hint of skepticism.
Frank nods weakly. His eyes are fixed on the glowing -782. He blinks incredulously, but the value remains unaltered. He's vaguely aware of a waiter approaching their booth.
`` Can I get you anything else to drink?'' he asks with a tired smile. Felicity politely declines, and the waiter leaves.
`` I dunno, I do n't buy it,'' Felicity says, turning back to Frank with a raised eyebrow. `` Prove it … how much time does he have left?'' she asks, gesturing toward the waiter.
Frank glances in the indicated direction. `` 3890 days,'' he answers flatly.
Felicity purses her lips. `` That's … a little over 10 years, right?''
`` 10 years and about 240 days,'' he replies almost automatically. Felicity stares at him blankly, and he shifts in his seat. `` You get used to calculating these things after a while.''
`` That's... the most depressing super power in existence,'' she says slowly. `` How long have you had it?''
He shrugs. `` As long as I can remember. Even when I was a little kid. It did n't take me long to figure out what was going on.''
Felicity suddenly gasps. `` You could be a *superhero*!''
Now it's Frank's turn to stare.
`` I'm serious. You could look for the 1s and 2s, you could warn them, you could … you could save them!''
`` Believe me,'' Frank says quietly, `` I've tried.'' Memories flash before his eyes: Mom, Grandpa …. He relives the crushing helplessness of every moment - the staggering futility of death. Frank doubts he'll ever come to terms with the fact.
He suddenly clears his throat, realizing they've been sitting in silence.
Meanwhile, Felicity's expression softens. `` You're right - just wishful thinking,'' she says lightly, but her eyes say, *Do n't blame yourself. There was nothing you could do. *
Frank is n't quite sure whether to feel relieved or disconcerted.
`` Then again,'' she continues, `` I'm sitting here, right? What was my number again... -781?''
`` -782,'' he amends.
`` So … clearly there's a loophole, a way to cheat the system!'' Her voice crescendos. `` If we can figure out what happened to me, maybe - just maybe …!'' Her eyes are sparkling with excitement, and she's nearly bobbing in her seat.
Frank sighs in defeat. `` I guess it's worth checking out,'' he says as indifferently as possible. But secretly, a flicker of hope had ignited inside him. A small flicker … but a flicker, nonetheless.
Felicity claps her hands together with pleasure. `` So tell me … how long ago was 782 days?''
`` October 5, 2014,'' Frank says without hesitation. `` But there's no way you remember what happened that day.''
`` Nope,'' Felicity admits. Then she stands, violently knocking over her ( thankfully sealed ) coffee. `` But I know where we can find out.''
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[ OT ] Writing Workshop # 35 : Breaking Your Barriers # 9 : Revisiting Fight Scenes
| Jonah threw the first punch, but he had no idea what he was in for.
It became instantly clear when the suited man caught Jonah ’ s fist, twisted and threw him over his shoulder. The man walked away while Jonah lay there, dazed. Despite the show of surprising strength, Jonah got up and came at the man again, this time trying to rush him from behind. The man turned around and shoved, and Jonah was back on the floor.
“ I ’ ve been augmented, ” he said, looking down at Jonah. “ There ’ s no point. You ’ re only hurting yourself. ”
Jonah tried to kick out at the man, but he agilely stepped back out of the way. Somewhere, behind his fury, Jonah knew he looked idiotic. He also knew he had to land a blow, whatever it took.
Two of the bouncers had arrived, and they lifted Jonah off the ground to escort him out of the bar. He struggled, but they were far too strong for him.
“ Come fight, you coward, ” he shouted as they dragged him away. “ I don ’ t care if you ’ re augmented, I ’ ll smash your face in. I ’ ll smash your mother ’ s face in. I ’ ll smash your grandmother. I ’ ll find your children and kick in their teeth. Come fight! Are you afraid? Come fight me you bastard! ”
Then he was out on the street. It was cold, but he was still burning in rage. Steam was coming off him in the freezing night air. He paced furiously back and forth in front of the door, while the bouncers scowled at him.
“ Shove off, or we ’ ll call the police, ” said the bigger of the two.
Jonah laughed. “ I am the police! ” He whipped his badge out of his coat pocket. The bouncers eyed it dubiously. Then suddenly Jonah ’ s adversary was striding through the door towards him, and the badge was stuffed back. Only one thing was on his mind now.
“ I ’ m not afraid of you, ” said the man calmly. “ And if I have to prove it by kicking the shit out of you, I will. ”
This time the man punched first, and Jonah barely ducked in time. He attempted to return the hit, but the man swatted the blow away with ease, punching Jonah hard in the face. Blood splashed into Jonah ’ s sight, but he wasn ’ t stopping. He lunged, and received another ringing clout, then another, then another, and then – he was down. He tried to get up, but not even adrenaline could help him now. His eyesight was hazy, and his head was throbbing with agony.
“ I ’ m faster than you, I ’ m stronger than you, I ’ m smarter than you, ” said the man. “ Give up. ”
Jonah laughed bitterly, spluttering blood. “ You Martians. You ’ re all money and geneering. Think the Earth is your playground. ”
“ I ’ m afraid you ’ re probably right, ” he replied. “ But there ’ s no point taking it out on a stranger. ”
“ You ’ re no stranger, ” Jonah said. “ I know who you are. You ’ re the rich asshole who started it all. ”
The man looked at him in surprise. “ You think I ’ m Tanner Johnsgard? ” Then he started to laugh. “ You think the Tanner Johnsgard would be slumming in an Earth bar? ”
“ You are Tanner! It ’ s been years, but I remember. You can stay young; everyone knows that Martians don ’ t age. I saw you when I was a child, and I never forget a face. ”
“ I guess you ’ re a little right, ” said the suited man. “ I ’ m not Tanner Johnsgard, though I am one of his clones. There are hundreds of us, but I ’ m a third generation. Funny you should pick me out to fight. ”
The anger went out of Jonah, and he became a broken old man. “ He killed my mother. Right in front of me. Or had her killed rather. I swear I would kill the bastard with my two bare hands if I ever saw him. ”
“ What a sad story, ” the clone remarked apathetically, turning and walking back into the bar.
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[ WP ] You buy a microcassette recorder at an estate sale , complete with what you think are blank tapes . They 're not blank .
| I carefully emptied the contents of the box onto the floor around me, surrounding myself in nostalgia. There were some good finds in here: a couple of radio alarm clocks, a fax machine, a ( sadly broken ) original etch a sketch, and a solid collection of Master System games. Really though, I'd bought this collection for just one thing. Rooting around near the bottom I plucked out a near perfect condition cassette recorder. Panasonic, expensive back in it's day.
`` If you were n't so obsessed with the past, maybe we'd still have a future!'' Ugh, what a drama queen. Did she realise how cliche that sounded? Her words bounced around my head nonetheless, unwelcome amongst the childhood sentiments that had already risen up. *Obsession. * Her fucking cats were an obsession, this was a hobby. If she'd spent less time doting on Anna Marie and Clancy Fluffleback she might know the difference.
I inspected the blank tapes, all C46's. Four tapes, 8 sides, so... about 3 hours of recording time. Not bad. More than enough to have some fun with.
It seemed like a lifetime since I'd spent my days recording news reports, complete with ad breaks in between. In some ways I guess it was. Unfortunately, reality kicked in somewhere around 99 and my nasal voice proved unsuitable for broadcast of any kind. I had ended up studying journalism instead, which was sort of the same thing. Sort of.
I slotted in the first tape as I cast my mind back to my youth. Dougie Phelps? No, definitely not. Erm, Daniel Fields? Closer, but still no. Donald Franks, that was it! Man of the people, hero of the airwaves.
I hit record and to my relief the little red light beamed back at me. I took a breath and prepared to slip back inside Donnie's shoes.
`` Good afternoon folks, remember to tune in weeknights at 7 sharp for the'News In Frank' with me, your host, Donald Frank.''
I hit stop and wound the tape back. That felt weird, really weird. I'd almost forgotten how much I'd wanted to be this guy when I was younger. As an adult, I wanted to be him even more.
The tape machine clunked to a halt and I hovered my finger over the play button. Part of me wanted to spend the evening stalwartly informing the residents of Chicago, Illinois, about the days tragic events and political intrigue, but I knew subjecting myself to my own voice for any length of time may not be a smart move.
Whatever. I hit play regardless and the little recorder began to regurgitate my soundbite back to me. Bearable. Certainly not pleasant, but not as horrendous as I was expecting. Something about the low quality of a cassette tape took the edge off.
As Donald Frank went quiet, natural disasters and multi car pileups vied for my attention. I wanted to relaunch my career with a bang. Perhaps the Mayor had been caught taking bribes from the unions, or better yet, had been caught bribing the unions himself. Death and destruction was exciting, but it took real guts to expose wide scale corruption.
``... nger can we make it? I do n't see what we can ev...'' My heart sprang into my mouth, who was in the house!?
`` We get it, we're trapped. Shush a second so I can record this just in case. In case, well, you know.'' Shit, 2 of them in the house, but where?
`` Fine, be but be quick. They must be on the third floor by now.''
As the penny finally dropped I slammed stop on the cassette player, as if allowing it to continue would somehow pose a great threat. In the silence I could hear my heart slamming against my chest. I cussed out the the cassette recorder as embarrassment set in and a familiar surge of heat rushed into my cheeks. Nobody was here to see this, thank God. The guys at work would have had a field day with this, bastards that they were.
Taking a moment to breathe in the comfort of my own living room I regained composure. It had just been the surprise of it all. I was fine. Nothing on a recording could hurt me, I'd just let my scaredycat instincts get the better of me, again. With fear and anger slipping away, curiosity rose to the forefront.
What was the deal with this tape? They were all supposed to be blanks, the guy assured me they were blanks. More importantly, was that real? A radio recording perhaps? The quality was oddly high for a bootleg recording though, and the show seemed far more authentic than any of the plodding audio dramas I could recall. With my body still suffering the ill affects of adrenaline, I placed a shakey finger back on the button and let the voices resume.
Writers note: I accidentally wrote the leadup to the prompt instead of the prompt, sorry. I liked the prompt though so maybe I'll come back to this.
|
[ WP ] You come home after the worst date of your life . Sitting in your living room is Cupid , getting really drunk and wanting you to know you 're the hardest person to find a mate for in history and the reason he might get fired .
| `` Cupid, that's my good scotch.''
`` Well, I fucking earned it.''
`` Yeah? You've been crashing on my couch for three years. I'm still single.''
`` I know that you're still single.''
Cupid takes a long pull from Ray's bottle of Glenfiddich, as though it were a potion that helps Cupid develop xray vision, `` You're such a piece of shit, you know that?''
Ray, though generally unresponsive for virtually anything, reacts with tenacious abjection, `` Says the little fairy, drinking my scotch from the bottle without a glass. You had a single job; find me a date. It's been three years and you got the balls to call me a piece of shit?''
`` I know, man. I've been trying to get you laid the whole time. I've worked your dating profile almost 20 times since I've been here. Give me some credit. The sheer involvement required for helping someone like you get a date needs a fucking miracle,'' Cupid drinks from the bottle one more time, a celebration that he's admitting some degree of failure.
Not shocked, though more incredulous, Ray looks at Cupid and asks sharply, `` Someone like You? What's that even mean? How am I incompatible?'' Ray grabs the scotch from Cupid and joins in from the bottle. There's almost a third left and they are still cooperating tenuously.
With his face buried in his hands, Cupid's speech begins slurring while he becomes less formulaic with his words, `` You're not even a sexy Type A Personality, you're like a nazi with none of the fashion sense. I'm pretty sure you were born dead or something, maybe even oxygen deprived. Sure, you're fit and you keep you house clean. You've got no dog, no accomplishments, little money, and you ride a bicycle. You're going everywhere on a bicycle.'' Cupid receives the bottle from Ray, has a short drink and starts again, `` The bicycle will not even be a bad things, if you are built like Arnold Schwarzenegger. You are a community college student, studying psychology. You've got issues with your mother and any space you occupy you command a false sense of moral authority and maybe some accurate sense of reason, though I am confident you are not believing any of it.''
`` Is that all?''
`` Fuck no, your shit smells awful. Wipe your ass.''
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[ WP ] Explain color to a colorblind person .
| Color is... well... you're a musician right? I mean you're not gon na sell out a concert hall, but you've played and you've listened to other people play right? When two people play the same piece of music it sounds different right, even if they both play it perfectly from a technical stand point the music sounds different when it's played by someone else. That's what color is. It's like the musical flavor your ears notice, but for your eyes. For example, two cars of the same make and model, built the same way, look totally different if they are painted different colors. You get it?
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[ WP ] You are in a coma in hospital , but still coherent , and your doctor decides to pull the plug on you .
| Please be gentle! This is my first time ever trying one of these!
My sister, Janie, had been sitting in the chair beside my hospital bed for a few hours now. I felt her presence through the occasional flicking of her magazine pages. I heard the way she licked her finger, grabbed the page between her index finger and thumb, and swiftly turned it. That about her, had never changed. The way she slurped when she drank her diet coke, and messily ate her food, I can still smell the chicken stir fry she ate two weeks ago. Today, she was here for longer than usual, I wondered why. I wish I could just reach out, and grab that bony hand of hers.
Footsteps, and then the sound of the clipboard escaping the metal encasing at the foot of the bed.
“ Hello, Miss Clark, I ’ m Dr Nguyen, we met yesterday ”. The sound of pages flipping, although these ones sounded much more important than Janie ’ s magazine.
“ I ’ m sorry, but once again, like yesterday, he is showing no signs of improvement. I suggest we discuss our options…the ones we spoke about last week. ”
“ Oh God, it ’ s come to that? ”
NO. NO! I ’ m here! I exist solely in this grimy bed, this room, this hospital, but I exist! Why isn ’ t my heart rate going up? Why don ’ t they understand? Please!
“ I think it ’ s time ” … “ Are there any family members or friends that you ’ d like to call? ”.
“ We have nobody ”.
I heard the doctor ’ s footsteps trail beside me, and then behind my bed. Janie places her magazine on the table, takes her right hand and caresses my cheek, she ’ s breathing heavily, but I didn ’ t feel any tears. She kisses my forehead, the last kiss I ’ d ever feel. She held my hand the whole time. I didn ’ t know what to expect. Would I relive my best memories? Would it feel like death forcefully dragging my soul out of my body? I was angry too, I hadn ’ t been this angry since that bastard ran that red light six weeks ago. Suddenly. Peace. Everything left. I didn ’ t see my childhood dog, Olive, or relive my first concert, I didn ’ t even see my adoptive mother, although I wish I had. I don ’ t know how to explain it, but I felt nothing, I saw nothing. Now I am nothing. I am asleep.
…
Janie bursts into a state of sorrow, she falls to the floor and weeps into her hands.
“ I ’ m sorry ” she cries, “ I just didn ’ t want him to hear me cry ”.
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[ WP ] You 're a thief who breaks into homes , but try your best to stay undetected . You lubricate the hinges to prevent squeaky noises , you sweep the floor to get rid of footsteps , etc . Eventually , you fix more than you take , and rumors spread about a mysterious , helpful fairy in town .
| My father is an engineer. My grandfather was a carpenter. The whole line of men in my family history have been from similar occupations that require precision, calculation, and in general a solid belief that a job worth doing is worth doing right. I, however am a thief.
I was n't always in this line of business. In fact, I once held the prestigious title of Team Leader for sales and installation for a local cable company. I worked my way up by installing telecom packages in some of the nicest neighborhoods. These were the neighborhoods where people would comment on your work using one of a variety of consumer reviews apps and websites. Receiving positive reviews was a matter of pride for me, and I went out of my way to ensure the work was done properly, on-time, and with a smile on my face.
Working in the wealthiest houses presents a person with access people's most private spaces, providing a glimpse of how they live, and most important to this tale, what they own.
I never considered myself a dishonest person, but somehow I fell into a habit of taking small things from the houses in which I worked. It started out with trinkets, jewelry, silverware, and other small items that would n't soon be noticed. However, My taste for the thrill of the pick led me to fantasize about sneaking in after hours for a more clandestine operation, rather than what seemed more like the work of a pickpocket. I dreamed up elaborate strategies to become the type of catburglar seen so often in the movies of yesteryear, with black suit, mask, gloves, rope, and all the stereotypical gear. I shopped, I trained, and I cased my first house for months.
424 Fawn Lake Circle was the target. It was mid-spring, and the shrubs would provide ideal cover for my approach. I parked two blocks away next to the golf course. The rough and surrounding trees followed the street along one side, providing cover for my journey from car to house. In my muted colors, I was perfectly concealed from human eyes, and people in this neighborhood tended to keep their dogs inside at night.
I made it to the side yard in about five minutes and crawled along the edge of a row of gardenias that covered first four feet on one side of the house. I only know they were gardenias from the sweet, gentle aroma that was always reminds me of my high school sweetheart. The perfume she wore had such a delicate scent that lingered after she left the room.
I had crawled just fifty feet or so when I felt a mist hitting the back of my neck. A hissing sound became apparent as I crawled closer to what I soon learned was a leaking water spigot. This is a huge pet peeve of mine. I could n't just move along and forget about this. The water loss was n't signficant, but my dad always called that marginal thinking. I was taught to think of the bigger picture, of the impacts of small things on a grande scale. Luckily, this is a common problem that's easy to remedy with a quick tightning of the screw on top of the valve handle. As a former boy scout, and aspiring world-class cat burglar, I had a multitool ready for the task at hand. I promptly tightened the screw down, but suffered a serious soaking in the process. I could n't continue with tonights raid, it was a wash.
I slinked back to my car feeling dejected and a little bit chilly, promising myself a return the following night to make good on my dastardly plans.
Tuesday night provided the atmosphere for the perfect crime. New moon, winds out of the east at 20 knots, still cool enough to avoid breaking a sweat. I made my way along the greenbelt, the same as the previous night crawling up to and along the shrubs against the house. I made it to the window where I planned my entry, and stood up to locate the magnetic switch for the alarm system. The moment I touched the window, the silence was broken by the sound of the irrigation system turning on. The sputter and spray of the emitters filled the air with sound and mist. One of the half-circle emitter next to me was apparently clogged, and was unable to pop up completley from its home in the ground, thereby creating a gurgling, sputter rather than a proper spray pattern. This would never do. Call it an obsessive compulsion, call it crazy, but I could n't just leave it like that. Yet again my trusty leatherman was ready for the task. I unscrewed the top of the emitter, which resulted in a reduction in pressure which allowed me to fiddle with the cap and screw and eventually return the components back to their proper position. The emitter was functioning properly, I was soaked, and once again the heist was a wash.
The following days might have seemed predictable if it were n't so strange. Every damned house. I swear the wealthy are either lazy or just do n't care about simple and routine maintenance. I had n't even managed to enter a home, let alone steal anything. The list would be comical if it were n't standing in the way of my new career. Squeaky gates, garage door off the tracks, flickering light bulbs, broken mantle on the gas lamp, loose window shutters, those stupid solar landscape lights, garden hoses, more lawn sprinklers, the list went on. I hit every house in the neighborhood, and at each one there was a deferred maintenance issue to address. I was at a loss for what to do. Either I needed to overcome my compulsion to fix that which was broken, or give up on my project for good.
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[ WP ] Elizabeth clutched her teddy bear . `` Please God , not tonight '' . Her prayers were always short .
| Elizabeth could not sleep tonight, because she knew it was her last.
She lay there on the comfortable, yet disturbing nursing home bed.
There were wires and needles coming from everywhere on her body. To the left, a monitor showing her ever decreasing heart-rate. To the right, a small table holding a glass of water, flowers in a vase, and a picture of her beloved sister, Evelyn.
Elizabeth was born with down-syndrome. She was different her entire life. The only person who actually cared for her was her sister, Evelyn. Evelyn was older and always protected her from the bullies and even their abusive parents.
Social security took Evelyn and Elizabeth away from their parents when Elizabeth was 10. Elizabeth did n't care. She only cared about her older sister. Evelyn was the only person who mattered.
The orphanage decided to home-school Elizabeth. Elizabeth would, every morning walk with Evelyn to the front door. And she would watch Evelyn board the school bus. Elizabeth always wanted to go to school with Evelyn, but the orphanage would not allow it.
After studies, Elizabeth would wait by the window, reading a book. Elizabeth would wait for Evelyn to come back.
Finally, Evelyn turned 21. Evelyn bought her own home. Elizabeth would live with her sister. However, age was against the sisters. Soon enough, Elizabeth was 76 and Evelyn, 78, could not care for her. Elizabeth was quickly placed in a nursing home. And, she was visited twice a week by her older sister.
Even though, she was basically, abandoned, she still loved Evelyn. Elizabeth felt colder, and looked to the picture of the two sisters.
*Elizabeth clutched her teddy bear. `` Please God, not tonight''. Her prayers were always short. *
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[ WP ] A miner finds a mysterious dial while digging labeled `` Magnetic North Pole Strength '' . It is currently set to 1 . He decides to turn it up to 10 .
| Lyle still held his woollen mitten between his teeth. The iron dial sat in the palm of his hand, cold biting into his fingers. He'd spun it as soon as he'd found it: almost an accident. It had started at the number one and now sat at number ten: the highest number carved in Roman numerals into the little dial. Lyle turned it over and considered it. There was a small hole just above the five -- like it had been strung on a string or a chain once. It could have fallen off any old-fashioned oven, if it were n't for the four little words scratched along the top.
*Magnetic North Pole Strength. *
The ground shivered beneath Lyle's feet and he straightened up. As soon as he lifted his head, the beam of the torch attached to his helmet moved away from the dial and up into the murky blackness of the coal shaft he stood in. It seemed to absorb the blue light, making it nigh-on impossible to see anything besides the floating coal dust that got everywhere. For a moment there was silence: Lyle could hear only his breathing in the quietness of the shaft.
A dull grinding started: a shockwave of sound that that thunder-rumbled beneath his feet. At the peak of the wave, something shifted beneath Lyle and he was jerked off his feet. The grinding continued: like a ceramic pestle and mortar working away at each other with forceful determination. The wall shaft of his right began to shift slowly clockwise: the wooden struts which supported the mantle under which he had been working buckling under the movement. To his horror, the wall on his left turned in the opposite direction.
Inexorably, the coal shaft began to tear itself apart. Lyle scrambled for purchase as the ground roiled beneath him. Somewhere else in the mine there was shouting as others heard it. A klaxon sounded. *Cave in. * Lyle thought. The warning alarm was inaudible as a great clap echoed through the shaft. The ground split as a chasm and Lyle grasped the wall like a lifeline.
The shaft had become a chute. Lyle, clinging to a protruding vein of stone, looked down.
He immediately regretted his decision.
The beam of his helmet was once more lost in the inky darkness of the chasm that stretched below him. The dial had grown hot in his pocket. Far below him, he saw light: the bright orange of certain heat and flame. Then came the voice: akin to the grinding that had started, it was deep and aching, echoing in Lyle's ears.
*Who has awaken me from my slumber? *
Lyle's grip on the wall failed.
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[ WP ] You are an alien on Earth for 10 years to study human life , at the end of these 10 years you write to your superiors on why or why not your alien race should contact humans .
| These are the texts found from searcher Randin, his race tasked with the discrete monitoring of potential Velarian ( Milky Way ) races.
Randin: I have been here for a total of 400 of the `` Earth'' years. I have witnessed this culture evolve from users of simple ships made from organic growth to harnessing the power of the atom.
Council: Why have you requested to be reassigned from X12:5.3? Your assignment does not end for another 52 settings ( 347 years, 1 setting is the equivalent of one year on the moon planet the council callex home )
Randin: I do not feel that this world will be habitable in that timespan. The people of this planet are reckless with thier power.
Council: What of their potential inclusion into the Council?
Randin: I do not believe they would be a valid choice at this time, the various problems here along with several diseases that would have to be erraticated before proper assimilation make this planet a high risk.
Council: We will need many settings to deliberate the future of this planet. Randin, you are to stay on location and report any further findings. As of now, the people of this planet need to be unaware of us and our reach.
Randin: I must object, there have been several instances where nuclear weapons were used against thier own people! Nuclear weapons! The same kind that rendered Gashial IV uninhabitable! If they wish to unleash this madness, we should at least show them the folly in their ways. Show them what happens when nuclear devices are used unchecked....the chaos that follows
Council: Your objections are noted, we will not intervene at this time. Continue to monitor local events, we will advise in 10 settings. This will be our last transmission for 5 settings. Wealth and prosperity to you.
Grand Commisioner El' Quel
Received many settings later, by a remote satellite looking into a tiny solar system now devoid of life.
Randin: You could have stopped it, I told you but now it's too late. The population of this planet has decided to deploy nuclear arms against itself. Now the planet can not support life. I
Urgency could have helped the situation....but the council leaks apathy. I have been a loyal servant for over 400 years.....but I am about to die form exposure to a radioactive element. When you arrive to liberate this planet from itself, prepare for a planet that will be unusable for all council races. As I told you, they need help
These conclude the texts from Rendin, who succumbed to his wounds on Earth after many years watching, learning. After 567 settings, another watcher will be assigned and debriefed.
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[ WP ] In the galaxy , humans are renowned for their affinity at problem solving . This leads to humans growing frustrated at aliens getting stuck with simple problems .
| `` I do n't think you understand the situation,'' Xarblag said. `` The plank *does n't fit* through the door frame. We tried it. It's too wide.''
I rubbed my eyes. `` Yeah. No, I see - no. No, it does n't fit through the door frame because you're trying to put it through the way it *obviously* does n't fit.'' I rotated the plank through ninety degrees.
Xarblag looked at the new situation and smiled. I say'smiled'. He raised two of his antennae and lowered the middle one. It's the same basic thing. `` Ah, yeah, I get it. Sneaky. That's sneaky. I do n't know I'd call it'obvious', you know? Because it's... yeah. That's a sneaky little solution to the problem. That's why we get the humans in here, you know. You guys are sneaky.''
`` Dude,'' I said. `` I'm not sneaky. It's... that's...'sneaky' is the wrong word, you know. I know we - I mean, humans - can sometimes take advantage of you guys from time to time, but we're not all like that, OK? There's trust, too. You can trust me.''
Xarblag touched my arm with his foretentacle. `` I know, man,'' he said.
I smiled. `` So you remember you won the contest about who buys me lunch, right?''
`` I do,'' he said proudly. `` I guessed the number between 1 and 3. You sucker.''
I looked embarrased. `` You got skills,'' I said. `` Same technique for the next plank, OK, buddy?''
`` You got it, boss!'' He said.
I made my way down to the next floor. I'd like to say that the renovations were going well - in their own way - but flipping a house with these guys was beyond a struggle. `` What's up, guys?'' I asked.
Fnorp and Blarg looked up guiltily.
`` What's going on?'' I asked. `` Were you guys arguing?''
They nodded ( left ear-flange down, right ear-flange up ).
`` What about?'' I asked. `` Maybe I can help.''
Fnorp sucked air into his flaps and nodded towards Blarg. `` *He* is trying to screw this screw in with a screwdriver that does n't fit.''
Blarg slapped him. `` *He* is trying to screw the screw in with a screwdriver that does n't fit!''
I looked at the screw. `` Dudes,'' I said. `` That's a nail.''
There was a moment.
`` Ooooooh,'' they both went.
`` Yeah, no -'' Blarg said.
`` No, yeah -'' Fnorp said.
I smiled and patted them both. `` Got it?''
`` Yeah,'' Fnorp said, as I left the room. `` Pass me the pan.''
`` Hammer!'' I shouted over my shoulder as I went down to the ground floor.
I passed a bunch of other guys on the way down. `` Sploint! Looking good! Wrong end of the nailgun.'' and `` Hey, there Plonitch. That my dry cleaning? No, you beat me fair and square.'' and `` Alright, Jargon? Do n't touch that. Just... do n't.''
I stepped out into the fresh air. *Fuck* this was going to take a long time. It was a wonder these guys developed language...
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A world famous magician randomly selects a small child in the audience to come on stage to assist in an illusion . Little does the magician know , the child is capable of real magic . [ WP ]
| The old man sat alone in the darkened alley, hidden behind the dumpster filled with cardboard boxes and trash bags full of empty beer bottles. Not that he had to work hard to hide himself. Even out on the sidewalk, people still walked past like he was invisible. Just one more filthy thing to stepped over in this city.
He had built himself a small fire to keep warm in a rusted car rim he had found. He didn ’ t have much wood to burn; he had gathered a few sticks from the withered downtown trees. But the dumpster provided plenty of other materials as fuel for his fire. He leaned back against the wall with his hood up and his eyes closed, trying to stay warm while he listened to the city breathe around him.
Then came a sound that didn ’ t quite belong. A can rolling from where it had previously sat undisturbed. He opened one eye slowly, and peered towards the sound. While he was invisible to the people on the sidewalk, to the denizens of the alley it was another matter altogether.
From the shadows, he saw a small boy shivering, and glancing toward the warmth of the fire. The old man sat himself upright slowly, so as not to spook the child. He removed his hood so the child could see him, and beckoned the child over to the fire, saying, “ Come on. I don ’ t bite. It ’ s warm over here, and you look about frozen. ”
From the shadows, the child crept slowly closer; his face filled with trepidation. Finally in front of the fire, he began to visibly relax. His shivering stopped, and he looked at the old man with curiosity.
“ Looks like you ‘ ve got a question on your mind ”, said the old man. “ Well, out with it, if you ’ re going to ask. ”
The child sat there, unsure of what to do next. Yes, he had questions, but he had learned that asking them was not always the right thing to do.
“ The silent type, eh? ” said the old man. “ Well I guess that leaves starting the conversation to me, then. ” He moved a little from where he was leaned up against the wall so as to get a better look at the child. “ My name ’ s Chuck. What ’ s yours? ”
“ I don ’ t remember what my parents called me anymore. I ’ m just me. ”
The old man looked at the child in disbelief. “ How long have you been out here on your own? Where did you live? How old are you? ” Rage began to grow inside the old man, that someone could do this to a child. That he himself was out here alone was due to his own fault; he had made his bed and now he slept in it. But a child?
“ I don ’ t know how long I ’ ve been out here, and I don ’ t remember where I ’ m from. I just remember people were always afraid of me since I was little. ” The child paused for a moment, and looked closely at the old man. “ But you used to be someone important, didn ’ t you. ”
Chuck sat back, shocked. His career had ended long before this child as likely born, but somehow this child knew.
“ I used to be Charles Cortez, and I was once a great magician. I performed for sold out shows in Vegas, Chicago, New York, and many other places. Then I made some very poor decisions in who I thought I could trust with my money. Turns out I was very wrong. ”
Both of them fell silent for a bit, remembering what they had each once had, and now had lost.
The old man thought to himself, ‘ *enough of this self-indulgent bullshit* ’, and he leaned closer to the child.
“ Well, kid, I ’ ll tell you what. If you ’ ve got an interest to see a magic trick, I ’ ll show you one. But I ’ ll need a volunteer from the audience. ”
The child thought about it for a minute, while studying the old man carefully. “ Can I be your volunteer? ”
The old man smiled, and nodded. “ I hoped it would be you. ” With a flourish of his arm, he said, “ Now, if you would be so kind as to step up here on our stage. ”
The child stood up and walked around the fire to stand next to Chuck.
“ Now, here ’ s what we ’ re going to do. ” Chuck reached inside of his dirty coat, and slowly pulled out a red handkerchief. He held it up by two corners, and showed the boy both sides to show it was empty. He took a pinch of the middle of the handkerchief, and pulled it through his closed thumb and forefinger to make it into a point.
“ Now, would my most excellent volunteer care to say a few magic words to the kerchief? ”
The child looked at the kerchief in Chuck ’ s hand, leaned in, and very quietly said “ Abracadabra. ”
Chuck pulled the handkerchief the rest of the way through his fingers, and opened it in front of the child. Inside were four different colored crayons.
“ Ta-da! ”, said Chuck. “ Would you like to keep the crayons, kid? ”
The child smiled and nodded, and reached out for the crayons. But he also grabbed the handkerchief as well. “ May I try a trick too? ”
“ Certainly ” said Chuck. “ May I be your assistant now? ”
“ Yes, please. If you ’ d like to be, that is. ”
The child went through the same routine as Chuck had moments before, showing one side then the other. He pulled the handkerchief through his thumb and forefinger as he had been shown. He asked, “ Would my most excellent volunteer like to say a few magic words to the kerchief? ’
Chuck leaned over closer to the child and quietly said, “ Abracadabra. ”
The child opened the handkerchief, and inside sat four gold doubloons. Chucks eyes went wide in amazement. “ Would you like to keep the coins, Chuck? ” asked the child.
“ How…? ” said the old man, eyes wide in disbelief.
The child looked at him with some slight fear in his eyes. “ I ’ m a magician, too. I can make things, and I can unmake things. Everyone was always afraid of me, so they gave me away when I was little. The new people were mean, so I ran away and came here. ” The child looked away, and said, “ No one bothers me here. At least, not anymore. ”
The old man wasn ’ t quite sure what the last part of that sentence meant, but he had a feeling it wasn ’ t good. Still, the kid had survived a way of life that few adults could, and no child should ever have to. He noticed the child looking at him again.
“ You ’ re not afraid of me ”, said the child. It wasn ’ t a question, but a statement, one that seemed to leave the child confused.
“ Should I be? ” asked the old man.
“ I hope not ”, said the child. “ I ’ m not afraid of you. I can make you things, if you ’ d like. Maybe we could put on a real magic show one day. ”
Thoughts of his former life on stage swam through the old man ’ s head. ‘ *This kid deserves a better life than the one we ’ ve got* ’, thought the old man.
“ Kid, I think we can do a magic show one day, and it ’ ll be the best magic show any one has ever seen. You stick with me, kid. From here on out we don ’ t go anywhere without each other. ”
“ But you have to make me a promise. Just one promise. And I ’ ll make you one too. I promise to never be afraid of you or what you can do, if you ’ ll promise me to never tell anyone else about your magic. Loads of people would love to use for what you could do for them. I want to help us both do for each other. We ’ re a team, now. Deal? ” Chuck extended his hand to the child for a shake to seal the deal.
The child thought for a moment, then stuck out his small hand.
“ Deal. ”
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[ WP ] You 're a down-on-his-luck gumshoe with a noir inner monologue . Recently , you 've noticed that your monologue is getting a bit TOO good at predicting what 's going to happen next ...
| My being shines with the glow of a man with a good mind and a good heart. As I walk down the darkened, crime riddled street with a new kind of thinking, feeling like this route may be the one where I get a promotion, I notice a guy. Not just any guy, but a wise guy. The type who do whatever it takes to get into a gang. And it seems that's what this snake eyed, dog lipped shmuck was planning to do. I only have my instincts to go off of, so of course I could be wrong. Could just be a young recently down-on-his-luck joe with a tendency to lean towards the Daniel's than the Joe.
But that ai n't a risk I'm willing to take, considering his overcoat and his two sizes too small hat act as barriers to make me turn a blind eye to whatever kind of mischief he's hiding under them. I ai n't no average kinda cop. I'm one who has the law follow him, not the other way around. Might be why I got made a patrol man in the first place. But will it stop me? Not at all.
`` Hey pal, lem me chin wag with ya for a bit huh?'' I say as he gets nearer in my grasp, a look of youthful vibrance in his face that's hard to come by in this city anymore. Something tells his baby face ai n't a face that gives off the sweetness an actual baby would. That's probably because I just saw him pull a piece of heat from his left pocket though after asking me a question.
`` Sure thing officer. What's rsttling around in your brain right now besides my heat?!'' He shouts, tossing his coat back and raising my potential Grim Reaper at me.
I got ta act fast. Time slows down, everything goes black and white, the world is not the world anymore. This is my life or my death, this sidewalk. I pull my piece, only to get struck in the shoulder, but not before firing off a few shots. Burning rage and wounds cover my body as I fight to stay alive as a hail of metal death enters my body. I collapse, my body slamming against the concrete as if God himself had thrown me down. And as I close my eyes, the sun gets brighter yet colder. And it all becomes warm again at the blink of an eye.
`` Sure thing Officer, what's rattling around in your brain right no-'' He gets cut off, his words being replaced by an ear shattering shriek, one you'd hear in a scary drive-in movie when the girl finally gets her just desserts after making one bad decision too many.
He falls, his coat sprawling around him and his hat flying off his head, revealing his whole ugly mug and the pain he's in. I panic, thinking that there's a killer on these streets. Not in my streets. As I look around though, I hear a sentence. Not just any sentence. A sentence you never wan na hear as you stand over someone bleeding to death on a Manhattan sidewalk.
`` Fuckin cop shot me! For no reason!'' The words echo in my head, leaving me dazed and weak at the knees. I then look down, almost fainting at the sight. My six piece. Clutched in my hands underneath trembling white knuckles, making it look like I've been taking one too many shots of the ol' sauce.
I then look towards the dying shmuck's hands, expecting to see a pea shooter, but onely seeing thin air. Speaking of thin air, I ca n't seem to get enough. My chest is ready to collapse in on itself faster than a third world country's government.
But then I look to his waist. His pocket. And there it is.
The piece. Suddenly my eyes begin to replay what went down. And I have a realization. One that would make any other man question his sanity. The guy did n't move his gun all the way out. Never finished his sentence. Never even lifted his head. But I know what happened. I saw it happen, I know I did. But, of course, I knew it was my instinct, my instinct does n't kick in without reason.
`` You were gon na blast me away were't ya you punk?'' I scream, not even caring that half the borough can hear me.
`` What are you talking abou- oooowwwwww- out? You pig. I'mma make sure your whole family gets the treatment you should have gotten.'' He coughs out, before letting out a deep groan, then a boom. From behind, which corresponds with a mist of bright red blood shooting from a quarter sized hole in his head. Contrasting with the black and white filter thay seems to have overlayed the world perfectly, flying through the air beautifully as the world once again seems to just... stop existing.
`` Guess you could say he was dead to rights huh jack?'' A voice says behind me, before more booms, which cause my back to burn like hell and make me see the brightness and feel the coldness of the sun before I hit the ground.
Until it becomes warm again and I'm standing over a screaming baby face punk who was gon na kill me. Then, as if on cue, I turn around to see two fat guineas walking like a married couole towards me, essentially hand in hand.
`` Guess you could sa-'' I do n't let them get off any wise marks before raising my gun, bursting their heads like fucking water balloons. They buckle under their own weight and slam to the ground, their fat jiggling like a blob of Jell-O as they roll around like a few seals before finally becoming limp. Gone.
As I turn back to my man though, I get a sharp pain in my chest. One that can inly be compared to that of a broken heart afyer years of commitment and happiness. But instead of that, it's a blade, being plunged into my heart as the young punks face seems ti be draining of color, which confuses me since it's usually supposed to be the other way around. But as I fall to the ground, it feels like a million years to reach it as I fall slower than molasses moves, before being blinded by another flash and feeling of cold and sudden warmth.
Boom.
A grunt from behind, the feeling of warmth spraying across my back. I do n't even need to look. I know what happened, just based on the cars now speeding past which pick up more speed as the people inside scream in pure, unadulterated horror. But I'm not worried. I know I was right. Instinct like that do n't kick in unless something bad is gon na happen. Which just proved my case of how I had them...
Dead.
To.
Rights.
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[ WP ] The world discovers God is real . He will answer one question for humanity before he returns to Heaven . A team of the world best and brightest come together to form this question .
| Jamie Brannigan stood before the Almighty. He had been elected by the coalition of politicians, scientists, philosophers, theologians, and other intellectuals to ask the question they had agreed upon. Jamie nervously wrung his hands while trying to focus on God, which was incredibly difficult. God appeared old and wizened, yet simultaneously young and full of vigor. One second He looked like the ideal male figure; the next, She looked like a beautiful woman; and the moment after, like neither male nor woman, some inhuman idealization of the human form. Jamie felt every second of the universe tick by, felt a void of timelessness, and felt time freeze solid as he gazed upon the Creator. The fullness of creation and the emptiness of *nihilo* danced in the eyes of God.
`` Ask me your question, my son, my brother.'' The voices and languages of every human, animal, and plant that had ever lived and ever would live joined together to form the Voice of the Lord of Hosts. Jamie took one deep breath and mustered up the courage to ask mankind's question to its omnibenevolent Master.
`` Why do kids love the cinnamon sweet taste of Cinnamon Toast Crunch?''
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[ WP ] Write a tragic fantasy story without a main character .
| The Massacre of the Dwarves was a fable that went on through time. Some people say that it's a child story made up to scare them into beds, others say the Dwarves were just a clan of Orks, or Humani, or Elves...
But there are some that still know the truth. Thousands of years ago, when the sun rose from the north, sunk in the south and the time when Orks still slashed at eachother's throats, the time when dragons still hatched in the wild... The Flathammer Clan ruled in the Mountain. A massive pile of rock that pierced the clouds, it was said that every year the initiation rites for becoming a man was to stack more piles of rocks at the peak and make sure that the summit grew a little taller each year.
And the Flathammer Clan was powerful, and controlled over the Humani Farmlands with not an iron fist but diplomacy. The Humani were content with rule under the dwarves. They gave the short, stout fellows their food and water, the Flathammers created tools in the smiths that were finer than anything a Humani could create. Hoes and scythes that would never dull, shovels that would never bend at their points, axes that cut through tree logs in single swipes. It was a golden age for the Flathammers and the Humani...
And the Orks attacked. And the Flathammers rode into Orkish Canyons on their warbears and their steam tanks, crushing the camps, enslaving the women and the children, and the Orks became weak, their warriors fleeing and becoming rogues and bandits, picked off by nature and infection.
And then the Elves attacked, on their graceful panthers and their swirling blades that cut through dwarven armor like butter... So the Flathammers created thick plating and rode their machines into battle, lifted their portable cannons and blasted through the dancing elves who thought they were agile enough to survive the onslaught of metal pellets. They cut down the attacking army from their mountain keep and rode out in their machines and their warbears, setting alight the Great Forest and burning the Life Tree, using it's cinders and logs and branches as fuel for their smiths. They salted the ground beneath them and let the rest of the elves survive.
The elves soon failed to farm on the destroyed lands and were quickly enslaved by the Flathammers. But with all these slaves, the Humani were losing their qualities of life. Their weapons were stolen by the Orks, their farmlands and animals were taken by the Elves. They complained to the Flathammers but the dwarves only laughed at the simple-minded farmers that fed them through their wars.
So the Humani attacked. They took their fine tools from the elves, killed the ones who fought back and rallied the rest against the Dwarves. Worshipped the Orkish Blood Gods in return for the Ork's help in killing the Dwarves. And then they marched on the great mountain keep.
It was a bloody affair, for every Dwarf dead, a hundred Humani, Ork or Elf died. The Elves wanted to give up when they could n't take the gates, but the Humani persisted. They still outnumbered them with their heavy losses, and they were abandoning their metal machines and their warbears were dripping blood into the ground. The Humani and the Orks and the Elves picked up the weapons of the Dwarves, their portable cannons, their metal horses, and pushed deeper and deeper.
By the second sunrise they walked back out of the mountain keep with the Dwarven's head on a spike. And every Dwarf was killed for their crimes, the Humani splitting up the land between the rest of the races. The Goblins, the Gnomes, the Fae and the Farseers were created, supposed crossbreeds from the four races. And the Dwarves were forgotten, the ancient Mountain collapsing and forming a range of Mountains known as the Pillars. And the mountain keep was buried deep into the ground...
There is no main character in history, apart from Death.
-- -
Check out more prompts and stuff at [ /r/krayfuse ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/krayfuse/ )
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[ WP ] Reincarnation has been proven , but you are reborn in the country that you died in . This prompts massive travelling for the elderly . You are someone about to die and desperately trying against all odds to get to the country that you want to be born in before you die .
| Cassandra was 16 when I met her. I was 15, and though I was younger, she took me under her wing. I do n't know what she saw in me, some gangly punk kid from the wrong side of the tracks, sitting alone every day behind the school. But she saw something, and made me a part of her life, and i do n't know why, but she changed my life.
That was her, though. Through and through, that was Cassandra. Even then she wanted to save the world. It was n't enough for her to one day be famous, or make money, or, i do n't know, be in a rock band or something. She wanted to help people. Make people happy. Make people better. In a lot of ways she was naive. In a lot of ways her dreams were entirely unrealistic. In a lot of ways that was why i loved her so much.
She made me better, no lie. Her friendship - her love - shepherded me through high school, and by the end I'd made it into college, a prospect that had n't even been on my radar when i started. She graduated a year ahead of me, of course, and that last year in high school without her was hell. But we talked often, and when I got into UCLA with her it was all worth it. Those four years were the best in my life, i think.
For thirty years, now, I've been wondering if i should have gone with her. As much as i loved her and wanted to be with her, the Peace Corps just seemed so out my area of interest. I'd just gotten into Hastings and she agreed that my way of helping the world did n't have to be hers. We were going to wait for each other. I mean, not just wait. When her plane crashed down in the mountains above Damascus, she was wearing my ring.
I know it's a warzone, there, sir. I know it's a mess. I know you have travel restrictions against Americans traveling there. But i just received word that the cancer has metastasized, sir, so you see, i have nothing to lose. And she's there, sir. I do n't know who - all records of who she might have become are long destroyed. But if i know my Cass she'll be making a difference. And if it takes me a lifetime - or more - i'll find her.
And i wo n't leave her side again.
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[ WP ] Dwight Schrute attempts to sell paper to Ron Swanson
| _ ( Phone rings eight times. ) _
Ron: Ron Swanson here. What do you want from me?
Dwight: Hello Mr. Swanson, this is Dwight Schrute, Assistant Regional Manager at Dunder Mifflin, the paper company. I noticed you have n't renewed your paper supply contract with us, so according to my calculations you will run out in 13.8 weeks.
Ron: Fine. We do n't really need all that paper anyway.
Dwight: You ca n't be serious! Where else will you write your Safe Waste Handling Operational Procedures rulebook?
Ron: I beg your pardon?
Dwight: Or your contingency plan for the diphtheria epidemic?
Ron: There is no diphtheria epidemic. Good bye.
Dwight: WAIT! Did I tell you about our current promotion? If you renew your contract before the end of the week, we will send you a free Dunder Mifflin branded adjustable wrench.
Ron: Now we're talking. Give me the details.
Dwight: Well, we can simply renew with your current specifications, although I suggest you update to our new range of water-free paper. It costs 15 % extra, but we can give you a good deal and bring that back to 10 %.
Ron: I was talking about the wrench.
__edit: __
_ ( Scene switch. Ron is now talking to the camera. ) _
Ron: Every man needs an adjustable wrench. Not me, though, because I already own five of them, but you never know.
_ ( Scene switch. Dwight is now talking to the camera. ) _
Dwight: I really need to ask Jim what the benefits of water-free paper are.
|
[ WP ] `` My fellow Americans ... '' The newly elected President begins . `` I am gay , and have been my whole life . '' Give me your best account of the country 's reaction .
| `` My fellow Americans...'' the newly elected President begins. `` I am gay, and have been my whole life.''
This was an unusual opening for an inaugural address, but nobody expected anything ordinary from President Trump.
`` In fact, I am the best gay that ever lived. You think Liberace was a good gay guy? Liberace is crap! My hair is 100 times better than Liberace's ever was! You think Elton John is flamboyant? Hah! My private jets have gold-plated toilet seats! ``, Trump smirked.
`` Do n't get me wrong, Elton's a good guy. He's a close, personal friend and he'd agree that I am the best gay alive.''
`` I am gon na be the best gay President we've ever had. You wo n't believe it.''
The Donald paused and gave a wide grin. `` And as my first executive act, Kim Davis, YOU'RE FIRED'' he roared.
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[ IP ] Rain
| How did I end up in this position. A week ago, I was just an member of anonymous, a greyhat hacker living in rural Iowa. That is, until I stumbled on a piss poor hacking attempt by North Korea. They were clumsy, leaving traces all over the system. You're probably wondering how I found out. I just like digging though certain networks for liveleak too much.
Three days ago, I started getting harassing calls and was being followed blatantly on the street. I dodged them and managed to jump on a train that was leaving for the East.
But, now they found me again. The only thing they did n't realize is that I slipped into a gunshop I did some work for. The owner had a big thing for live explosives, it being basically nowhere important. There was a box of live grenades in the back room.
Before I jumped the train, I snagged one. Now, I'm standing in the rain somewhere with two Koreans who have guns on me. I pull my surprise out and yank the pin. I feel like throwing down a hat and dancing around it. Never thought I would be in a Mexican Standoff.
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[ WP ] Aliens make contact with earth and the worst possible ambassador is chosen to negotiate with them .
| He walked to the congress room, opened the door in a rush, to see everybody staring at him. As he walked in, he hurried to the middle of the room. A man in a suit handed him the phone: for you, Mister S. He held the phone against his head, and said no word. The aliens on the other side started talking. `` Hello, is this the ambassador of the planet earth?'' Mister S., under no stress at all, replied: `` No, this is Patrick.'' and laid down the hook. As everybody stares at him, confused and in utter disgust, he walks out the room, and calmly closes the door.
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[ WP ] In their society everyone is born sexless and when anyone reaches 18 they must choose which sexual organs to grow . A 17 year old is reaching their 18th birthday .
| Choice. It was a long, hard decision for most genderless, but I was different than
most. I had heard both sides of the debate, and I do n't even remember when I
had actually made the choice, It might have even been subconscious. But I knew
what I wanted, I wanted to be a woman. Sure, the men made most of the major
decisions in the world, ran muliti-million corporations and were the head of
households but I had seen the signs. The secret whispers that crawled into women's ears from the men in their lives, the longing looks of desire. `` Behind every strong man, is an even stronger woman'' a friend who had made the transition told me. We were the ones with the actual power. We made your sons, We cooked your meals. While we gave you the essence of control, made you feel strong and powerful, we sat back and pulled at the strings. No man in his right mind would completely disagree with the main woman in his life, be it his mother, his girlfriend, His wife, or his daughter.
To be an object of desire, for drones of men to fawn over us for simply having the correct anatomy. The look in a person's eye and to know that you are their muse, the fantasies that trot through their mind's are complete bliss to them. Just another facet of life that we could use to our advantage. Some people think that I might have over thought this, but I firmly believe that women rule the world, we just let the men think that they have all the power.
Just one more day of being genderless. My heart was racing. I could n't wait till I had made the plunge, I wanted this more than anything. Power, Desire, AND THE ORGASMS. I've heard wondrous stories about those orgasms. Just thinking about it made me quiver with anticipation.
Finally, I was 18. Today was the day of my shift, the official day that I became a woman. Nobody told me that on my first day, the first HOUR I would be getting my period. The cramps were extremely unpleasant to say the least. And it was n't just fucking blood that came out of me, chunks of lining and just all sorts of nasty shit happened. God forbid I sneezed, or it would be like fucking Carrie or the opening scene from Parasite Eve in my panties. `` At least it will only last a week.'' I kept telling my self. It was all worth it though, because within the first few moments of stepping outside It started. I was getting looks. Catcalls. The attention felt good, considering before I was just a genderless, they did n't pay me any attention, because I was just like them. Like a god damn barbie doll between my legs. But now I had breasts. Nice ones too, soft, supple, yet firm. I took my chance and strutted my stuff all the way down to the mall and bought me some of the nicest clothes I could afford. Deep cut V-necks, skin tight pants, lacy panties and bras. It was a great feeling, really quite liberating. I finally felt like I was me.
I think I am going to enjoy being a woman.
( This is my first post, so any constructive criticism would be great. )
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[ WP ] The more gifted someone is , the shorter their life .
| What sweet irony, that the brightest flames go out the quickest, while the dim glows of others seem to last an eternity. If someone is unlucky enough to be born with talent, they will never live long enough to master it, while if someone is born average or maybe even an incompetent idiot, they will have all the time in the world to master the art, just none of the skill or drive required. The oldest man alive is 1000 years old, he's deaf, mute, blind, he ca n't smell or taste, he's paralyzed and some believe, due to his advanced age yet young looks, that if he could talk it would all be gibberish. This man is the pinnacle of society, he is the heights people reach for, the young man at 100 or 200 is loved more than the old man at 20. My son already has white hair and wrinkles at 9, while my daughter is still a baby at 25. I do n't know which child I pity more, he could give so much to the world, but will never be able to, while she will be happy her entire life, but will never know the joys of intelligent conversation or reading or anything that requires to much thought. I count myself as one of the luckiest people on the planet, gifted with a mind quite a ways above average, but mangled and missing many limbs. I will probably live to 150 or so, while my wife, with her beautiful mind and untouched body, was just barely able to make it to 41. Some believe that this is fair, that it's only right that should one be born with more gifts, that they should n't have as long to use them. But I think they do n't realize the burden that knowledge is, that if the `` gifted'' people lived much longer they would take their own life. Most of all though, I think deep down, they envy the knowledge and skill they lack, they would trade centuries of their life for a chance to be special, for something to make their long existence not only unique from other peoples lives, but to make it a life worth living.
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[ WP ] You and your police squad roll up to the target residence , silent as shadows . But he 's there , waiting , smoking a cigarette in a goddamn bathrobe . ''
| `` Hell of a night.''
Steve looks over at you, the glow of the moon bouncing off the dashboard to illuminate him. He snorts through his bottle-brush mustache and draws his pistol, ejecting the magazine to check the rounds before slamming it back in and racking the slide. The Beretta slides a 9mm cartridge into the chamber with a click. Flick. Safety on.
`` Let's go.''
The two of you open the door on your cruiser. You never noticed the creak in the door hinge until tonight. The crunch of the grass is deafening as you notice that there's no sound. Not a rustle of wind. No crickets. Nothing but your own shallow breath.
Steve creeps ahead, gun at the ready, as you draw your own. As you approach the target, the silence becomes unbearable, as if all the air were gone. You hear blood rushing in your ears.
The Old Man stands in front of the trailer. The moonlight does n't illuminate him, as if he were a shadow himself. His bent cigarette glows in his eyes. You notice them watching you. You draw closer.
Finally the tension breaks.
`` Hands in the air, NOW!'' Steve commands.
The Old Man just takes one last drag. He points a crooked finger in Steve's direction.
Flick. Steve switches off the safety on his firearm.
`` I said, hands i-''
His voice is cut short. A beam of brilliant red light emerges from The Old Man's finger. You hear Steve hit the ground and smell ozone, acrid in the burnt air. Instinctively, you squeeze off every round in your pistol at the old man. They seem to pass right through him as he turns and shuffles away boredly. The muzzle flash reveals The Old Man in the inky darkness, his terry cloth bathrobe and slippers almost comical in their disrepair.
Your gun empty, you run to Steve's side, pulling him into your arms. The smell reminds you of a barbecue and you nearly vomit. You realize that you've only pulled Steve's upper body into your lap. His legs lie some 3 feet away.
You try to radio dispatch but no response. Steve coughs weakly, blood pooling on his lips.
`` Hell of a night...''
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[ WP ] Every 5 years after you reach 10 , a random adjective is applied to your name , which not only changes your name forever but applies the meaning of that adjective to you .
| On my fifthteenth birthday I got my first adjective `` Charismatic Dave'' I instantly became the most popular kind in school. Girls loved me, the guys envied me and all the popular kids wanted to be my friend. Other people got adjectives like tall or skinny and in the case of poor Tim `` pale''.
It was n't till my twentieth birthday that things went downhill. My second adjective `` Charismatic Manipulative Dave''. People would do whatever I wanted and I started to abuse it. While I was king of College and dating the hottest girl in psych, Tim had just gotten his new adjective `` Pale Vengeful Tim''. I paid him no mind and he became the butt of many of my jokes but I could always manipulate him into leaving me alone. How I wish I could undo what I did then.
At 25 I got my last adjective `` Charismatic Manipulative Weak Dave'' in an instant I lost my ability to manipulate or charm people and Tim received his new adjective. `` Pale Vengeful Powerful Tim''. In a night I'd lost everything and Tim had become the strongest person alive and he was coming.
I never got a new adjective.
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[ WP ] A young girl has two monsters in her life : her step-father , and the one under her bed . She manages to befriend the latter to deal with the former .
| I screamed as I awoke from my nightmare. Looked at the clock seeing that it was about 3 in the morning...
`` Oh shit..'' I braced myself as I heard his steps coming down the stairs.
He opens the door with such force it shakes the cabinet above my desk and the snow globe my grandmother gave me fell and shattered.
`` What the hell is wrong with you, you little punk ass bitch?!?''
He's been drinking.
`` Fucking waking me up at 3 in the morning? Do you go to work? Who provides fucking money for this family? I do! And all you do is bitch and whine and wake everybody up you insignificant piece of shit.''
He slowly advances towards my bed while continuing to scream.
I closed my eyes getting ready for the cold, clenched hands.. I waited for 30 seconds.
He had stop yelling.
I slowly open my eyes to find 4 fingers on my step-dads shoulders.
As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, they started to appear green, and sausage like.
`` What the fuck?'' But before he could turn around, he was bent over..
`` It'll be over ogre soon.''
That was the last time he ever laid his hands on me.
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[ WP ] Once a year the world hosts an annual superpower lottery , where one lucky person gets a superpower of their choice . This year the winner was dumber than a bag of rocks .
| The crowd hushed as a short, stocky man walked onto the stage.
`` I'm 671724425.''
The announcer smiled and extended his hand to shake. `` Congratulations, what's your name?''
`` Uh,'' the man reached out and shook. `` I do n't know yet?''
`` You do n't know?'' The announcer paused for a second. `` Oh, not your super-hero name, son, your given name.''
`` Oh, I'm Kip.''
`` Kip, congratulations! What super hero power would you like?''
Kip scratched his chin for a second. `` Can I tell you in private?''
The announcer smiled again and nodded. He'd had many people want to reveal it to the world by actually doing it. He leaned in and waited for Kip to speak.
`` I,'' Kip whispered away from the microphone, `` want to be able to move the clouds.''
`` What?''
`` I want to move the clouds and shape them and stuff.''
The announcer leaned back a bit, puzzled look on his face. `` Why? What possible reason-''
`` Hey, I get to pick anything!''
The announcer sighed and nodded. He pulled out a walkie talkie and radioed in the power. After a quick confirmation over the power in question, the vial was ready.
`` Here it is folks!'' The announcer had the vial in his hands, walking it to Kip over the crowd's cheers.
He pulled out the syringe and loaded it up. Carefully, he injected the vial in Kip's arm. He went through 8 months of nursing school just to be the one who could inject the thing, but he never did it himself until this year. `` Done.''
The crowd's cheers got louder as Kip stood up.
Chants went out. *Use the power. Use the Power*
Kip closed his eyes and the crowd went silent. He opened them and looked up, laughing like a child.
Questions could be heard from the crowd, like'what'd he do?'.
The announcer looked up and sighed.
A cloud shaped like a bunny was hopping in place.
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Earth has gained a new season , unlike anything currently known . [ WP ]
| `` Jenny get over here right NOW!''
Jenny shuffled slowly through the house as she heard another NOW signaling that this was serious. As she neared the living room everything started to rumble. Jenny burst through the patio door. She noticed that there stood on all their patios were the neighbors mouths agape and noses pointed to the sky. No one made a noise, no one was screaming, no one was crying, nothing but a faint hum that canceled out every other sound. Jim motioned to Jenny as to say come over here and pointed to the sky behind their house.
`` Jesus'' Jenny fell to her knees.
It was as if the moon decided to kiss the earth. With the moon in the background there was this planet-sized object shrouded in darkness vibrating so violently it looked fake. After what felt like an eternity all of a sudden it stopped and before Jenny could look around she heard what sounded like someone ripping a chip bag open and blacked out.
`` Jenny, Jenny wake up please'' Sobbed a familiar voice
Jenny came to not because of Jim's voice but the excruciating pain on both her shoulder blades.
`` What happened'' Jenny muttered in confusion.
As her vision began to clear she looked at Jim and screamed.
`` JIM! You're bleeding and why are there so many birds in the sky?''
Terrified she looked at Jim's face turned from worried that his wife was dead to a wide brimming grin. Confused she took another look in the sky. What replaced the celestial body was now a hallowed out circle of the same size but the lines were wavy. A wavy circle split up into 4 colors starting from the top going clockwise: Green, Orange, White, and Blue. Nothing's making sense anymore. Jenny now wondering if this was a bad dream, pinched herself in disbelief. She looked around at the now empty patios expecting to see her neighbors but no one was there. Scattered across their lawns were some of them unconscious, like she was a few seconds ago, with what appeared to be like blankets strewn around them. It made sense considering it was April 1st and was a bit chilly thought Jenny trying to make some sense out of what was going on.
`` Jim what happene...''
Jenny heard what resembled the sound of a flipping cape in Jim's direction. She turned once again to Jim but he was n't there anymore. She looked up. Now ascending in the direction of the birds was unmistakably Jim in his blue jeans and green polo motioning her to follow him. Jenny now realized what had happened as she noticed her hands were in her lap and not spread out across the lawn.
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[ WP ] Five Brothers & Sisters evolve into immortals . They now rule the world and have divided it into five territories . The world has had 100 years of peace until now ... ..
| Lawrence, Gianna, Nathaniel, Darius, Ruth. These ordinary individuals -- rodents -- are now gods. How *dare* they tread? My domain is infinite, inconceivable, intricate beyond measure! They have unravelled all of my hard work in a short century! Gianna and Darius were once my loyal servants, dedicating their work, their very lives to my wisdom! But the others... they *challenged* me! Once the technology was unlocked, they learned too much. `` You shall have no other gods before me.'' This is my doing... free will and all that. This was not part of the plan.
Thank me for contingencies.
Oh, look, there goes Nate, the one in North America. Go ahead, build up your resources, fill your cup as it were. That will be your downfall. Darius, `` sweet'' little Darius, the little imp! Dealing in the dark, like I would n't see you. You *know* that is a sin! Your little friend is going to pay as well. It seems that my plan is indeed coming to fruition. Granted, I supplanted a couple of ideas in you to be a little imp in the first place...
Ruth! Here comes the youngest, dashing through downtown Shanghai. The leader of the truly free world, where no one goes hungry at the end of the day, but no one is bound by too much red tape. If Ruth had instead chosen Africa, her kingdom would have been a tyranny, rife with assassination attempts, temptations of evil, and strife. I am glad that she is the one who rules here, for she is the strongest among them. I shall guide her hand in overcoming the trials her brothers and sister throw her way.
`` Now's not the time for fear.'' But fear is Lawrence's way. Africa is a land of fear, as well as a land of death. Lawrence is a good fit to rule here, but given his nature, he will want to spread that fear. Always the rivals, now enemies. I despise such ways, but sometimes they are necessary ways for my plan. Gianna could be the moderator, but she has bias in being loyal to me. I wish I had n't given her Europe. I could just start over... Never to have made them immortal in the first place, but I need one of them. I need a new Harold.
|
[ TT ] Just to annoy President Obama , the House declares that the state of the union must be presented in Iambic Pentameter .
| Obama
I've got some words for Congress and ISIL,
At last my time in office is soon ending,
It's time to let some fat stack rhymes sizzle
And say just what I think of your grandstanding.
Impeach me if you think you'd do better
Defending the nation from terrorists
That feed on politics of fear and terror
The fucking citizens votes into office.
You stupid shits have ruined this country
Just trying to get a Republican president
You shit the bed and blamed the other party
Appeasing just the craziest constituents.
Now watch Obama peace out back to Kenya
And leave you stupid bitches with each other.
|
[ WP ] In your world , psychics are graded by how much they can affect reality , with higher numbers being more influential . Level 9s , the weakest , can bend spoons a bit . Level 1s can stop time . You are the caretaker of the only level 0 in history .
| He lit another cigarette as the world around him crumbled into nothing.
Again..
It's not that he actually felt like smoking, but it had become part of their little ritual. The thought of similar rituals with very different women in very different times came to him as always and still managed to make him wince a little.
Walt raised one bushy eyebrow and looked around suspiciously.
'*Hey darlin, what's up with all the flair today? Trying to impress me? *' He almost managed to make it sound light-hearted.
Reality seemed to fall down like little coloured blocks, cubed pixels. Slow at first, and then in great surging cascades.
He tracked one cube and saw it bounce, once, twice, and then just vanish.
'*Well, it is pretty, I got to hand it to you, even if a little dramatic. *' He took another long drag and watched her from the corner of his eye.
Even before he'd finished his cigarette all that was left was the familiar absolute and empty whiteness.
And them, of course.
After all this time, he still did n't really understand why she'd kept him around. It did n't help that she had n't said a word since it all started.
She'd been smaller then, a child really. Wild-eyed and naked, shackled to the floor of a dirty padded room, like some kind of vicious animal.
See, they had found out the trick pretty early, do n't negotiate with anything below a four. Do n't discuss, or plead or beg. Do n't raise them to be good or wise.
Do n't ask for favours or try to moralize them. They were always smarter than you. They would out-think you in a heartbeat. And some would inevitably come to the
rational conclusion, that everyone else really did n't matter so much, in the whole scheme of things.
So you kill it, if you can.
And if you ca n't, you beat it. You starve it. You freeze it. You engage every primal instinct it has, all that lizardy goodness below the cortical wizardry
and you condition it. Make it beg for food, for heat, for light. Make it find and fight others like it.
At least, that's what his supervisor had told him, the day he applied for the job. And perhaps a million times after.
Sometimes though, they'd just go silent, unresponsive. It was like they retreated into themselves, fled from the world. Like she had.
It was n't considered a bad outcome.
Honestly, it had never really sat well with him. But when the survival of the world is at stake, ethical concerns really are the first to go.
One Friday morning, while washing her down, scrubbing some of the grime from her skin. He had noticed a small white circle had appeared on the floor where the girl was sitting.
'*You were a little slow back then, were n't you love? Still figuring all this out. Like learning to ride a bike I s'pose. *'
He'd pointed it out to his supervisor, and they'd cautiously tracked the circle's growth as it inched outwards over the following weeks.
They'd realized the problem when one of the experts had come over from Facility 1 to investigate. The balding, serious looking fellow had gone in to try and talk to her.
When he stepped onto the white circle, his foot had disappeared. Actually, most of his leg up to the knee. There had been a look of utter surprise and fear as he'd tumbled forward.
Walt had been standing next to the girl. Both feet squarely on the circle, and overall right as rain. He'd tried to catch baldy. But as soon as the man's body fell into the circle, he had vanished completely.
The girl had not moved a hair.
Instinctively, Walt looked up and took a moment to appreciate the woman she'd become now. Mostly, she was still just wide-eyed and naked though.
She looked at him, expectantly. They'd tried so many times now.
'*So ok, I see why this one did n't really work for you either. The human sacrifice was a bit much I guess. *' He rubbed his stubby chin. God knows how many years, and still no beard. That annoyed him particularly these days.
He had to dig deep.
Once all the big-shots had realized the predicament they were in they, the exponential growth of the circle, the fact that anyone trying to enter it would just disappear, anyone but Walt that is, they'd done something foolish.
They decided that he would need to save them. Save everyone.
So in the few days they had left, they tried to teach him just about everything.
Walt had never considered himself a smart man, and as it turned out, rightly so.
He scratched his head and let out a long sigh.
'*How about the usual, no stealing, definitely no cheating, and no murdering this time - unless they really have no choice and it's for the greater good. Definitely no sacrificing though. And maybe praying on Mondays? *'
She just blinked.
The whiteness around him exploded into colour, and with a bang Reality had started again. From here it would take some time though.
He sat down and wondered if God had had a Walt around. He did n't really like that idea very much.
|
[ RF ] You 're sitting on the curb with your friend , making up stories about the people that pass by .
| It's a September day, the sun shines lazily on two friends sitting on a sidewalk. They sit close together, like good friends do. The smaller one on the left looks like he would bring you flowers when you feel sad and tease you when you're happy. The slightly bigger friend does n't look like much when you first see him, but his friend knows what he has in him. He is a gentle person and always unsure about other people's feelings. He just ca n't tell what they think.
So, on this beautiful day, while enjoying the sun, the smaller friend pokes the bigger friend's shoulder, whispers something into his ear, and then points at a busy-looking man passing by. The busy-looking man throws them an annoyed look, saying `` You kids should be in school'', both with his eyes and his mouth. In response, the smaller friend picks up a little stone and throws it at the man, but misses. On purpose, he gesticulates towards his friend.
A woman with a baby in stroller crosses the street, one hand holding a phone to her ear. The baby sucks contently on a pacifier, evidently tired from a long but satisfying trip to the nearby zoo. They wave at the baby when it rolls by, it returns the favor and smiles at the two friends. That is because babies are very good at telling good and bad people apart. Most of them at least, especially if they are tired and their eyes are too exhausted to see much.
The two friends spend their whole day sitting on the warm ground, laughing and enjoying each other's company. When the sun is setting, a woman's voice carries over, calling home the smaller friend. He gets up, lightly punches his friend on his shoulder and runs home. The other friend keeps sitting while the world around him becomes darker. He hears a car's brakes screech loudly in the distance, there are many noises around him and in his head that he ca n't understand without his friend by his side. The people that walk by rush to get home to their loved ones. He tries to continue their game of guessing their life stories, but it is no longer fun by himself. He gets up, scratches his beard, and takes a sip from his beer. It is a beautiful day. Just like it was 20 years ago.
|
[ WP ] You are a professional killer tasked with assassinating your secret crush
| Teeth gleamed, cameras flashed. The carpet was red and the mood was light. Anxiety rolled in my chest. I would have to wait until he was sitting down in the dark. I did n't want to wait, I actually did n't want, terribly, to do it at all. Why this man? He seemed good. Well, he was attractive to a crazy degree so it could cloud my judgement. I did n't think so, however. He was real, genuine. Eyes lowered, raising to answer questions, darting this way and there. Skittish, but just a regular, honest guy. Except for all the lying in acting, that is.
I knew he would be up front. He was the golden boy for now, albeit a reluctant one. He shook the hands around him, kissed a flushed cheek or two and settled in his seat. I stared at the back of his head, thinking hard. Momemt of reflection, maybe. I nodded my head, assuring myself of my future actions.
As the music swelled, I sat down in the seat my alias had afforded me, moving the train of my over-priced gown out of my exit. I watched as he applauded his coworkers successes, as he accepted his own prize, and during the long speech about starving or disease or some other shit, I saw his head loll to one side. Relaxed and half-asleep, I hoped. Here we go.
I stood up slowly. No need to rush now. I had ten minutes, about. I went out of the aisle, straight back and around the side of the room. To his side. I was alone in the half-hidden, darkened walkway. I pulled the train of my gown off, made just for this occasion, and yanked at my blonde wig. I caressed the metal strapped to the outside of my thigh, reassuring myself. Crouching, I made my way along the wall, closing in on his chair.
His profile, even in the dim light, was unmistakeable. The full lips, wiry long beard, and his unique tattoos all told who he was. His beautiful... I had to shake my head clear, I was romanticizing reality and that was insanity.
His head was back, and I took one more long glance at the line of his throat, how fragile, and saw the flutter of his pulse. Sighing, I stepped forward and pressed the silencer to his temple, timing my move with the applause. A pop, small and unnoticeable sounded in my direction, and his head rolled away from me. Beautiful. Now dead, but lovely.
The newspapers were falling all over themselves the next day, mournful and shocked. The prose gracing the front pages of the most sought after rags was sickingly sweet and serving. The rich and famous were appalled and rattled in their cages. Ah, well. Poor Tom.
|
[ WP ] Inexplicably , the `` Internet '' never caught on , outside of small research applications . Tell a story about anything in the year 2015 in this Internet-less world .
| `` Higgins!''
John Higgins was hunched over his computer, looking up the latest information on crustacean migration patterns when his boss's voice rang out across the office floor.
*What the heck do you want you tyrannical desk thumper? *
`` Yes sir?''
`` Higgins! I've got an intern that I need you to mentor.''
*Great*
Sadly, John got up from his desk, abandoning his journey through the fascinating world of crabs, lobsters, crayfish, shrimp, and all the other wondering and strange things that roamed the watery worlds.
John had a passion that few others shared, and he hated being deprived of it.
He marched over to his boss with downcast eyes.
*I just want to get back to my research, but there's no time! There's never time! *
What he had was old data. He had been meaning to plug in his Encyclopaedia chip into the knowledge bank for weeks now to get the latest info, but just had not gotten around to it. It took a whole afternoon to get to the knowledge bank anyways, and on his days off, John was just so tired.
*If only there was a way to get the information from here. Some sort of long-distance connection to the knowledge bank. *
He stood before his boss with his thoughts still trailing behind him.
*'' Internet! `` *
John's eyes opened wide.
*What!? * he thought, sensing a brainwave.
`` What am I paying you for, Higgins!'' he boss said, `` I said that I need you to show around our new intern, Ette!''
`` Oh, your name is Ette?''
A young woman in a business suit with a clipboard and pen behind the ear nodded eagerly.
John stared in to space for a second, trying to think.
*Intern Ette. Real-time crustacean tracings! Intern Ette… Intern-Ette… Intern-*
`` HIGGIIINNNNS!!!''
`` Yes sir. Let's go, Ette. I'll show you the copy room first.''
|
[ WP ] An everyday activity gets narrated in a dramatic manner .
| The mistress' skin was so smooth and marbled that it would not look out of place decorating an emperor's palace. We exchanged not a single word before I took her home to indulge in a night of hedonistic indulgence.
I caressed her tantalizingly cool body but it felt dirty to put my tongue near her, no matter how succulent she appeared. ( What would my wife think?! ) Maybe later, I thought to myself. She spent most of that night bent submissively over the kitchen table without ushering a single protest no matter which crevice I sullied. However, she neither expressed pleasure nor did she return the favor.
Little did she know that she was about to be forced into my sick twisted fantasy. I flipped her effortlessly over and began massaging oil onto her back. Then, without giving her a chance to protest, I slammed her face down onto an iron-cast skillet. If she screamed I would not have heard it over the crackling of oil on flesh. She thrashed around and managed to splash some searing hot oil into my left eye. `` Fuck you bitch!'' I roared as my eyeball sizzled away. My victim did not hear as she was already lifeless, her flesh blackened. I stomped over to the drawer and seized a knife to dismember her. As I brandished my blade with savage vengeance over the seared corpse, I heard the door click open. Oh no! My wife!
There was no time to hide the evidence of my unbridled cruelty and so I reluctantly approached the door, knife in hand.
`` Hi Wifey!''
My wife scrunched her nose at the putrid smell emanating from behind me and said:
`` Hey you idiot. Do n't tell me you burnt the steak again.''
|
[ WP ] Halloween is just around the corner , so let 's get in the spirit . Create a monster and set it loose !
| *If a man loses his leg, he is given an artificial one and reminded of how inferior it is to his old, god-given limb. Do you think machines would envy our flesh if they were to know how much more fluid we are, how much more compact and graceful muscle is compared to what they are given? *
Al had come home from his desk job a little after midnight. It was a foggy night and cold enough to send a chill down his spine as he got out of his car and shuffled to the door and while his numb fingers fumbled with his keys. He barely remembered to press the garage door opener as he crossed the threshold into the warmth of his small rural home, and awkwardly leaned backwards to slap it before rushing back in as a gust of wind blew a load of leaves in under the descending vinyl plates.
He was the perfect stranger.
Al never thought to look behind him as the garage door closed, he heard the leaves blowing in, but not connect the noise to the concept that they had blown in due to a vacuum created by a larger object swiftly entering his garage and then abruptly settling under the parked automobile. The intruder easily made its way into the attic after Al had abandoned the space of his garage. Al's schedule had been determined through observation of when he entered and exited the garage every day. Al did not lock the door behind him after he entered his house, as he was home and assumed two things:
**A**: There was nobody else anywhere within the walls of the home, and thus interior doors did not need to be locked, as any intrusion would be occurring from the outside of the house.
**B**: His senses were trustworthy enough to detect anything that had gone awry.
These were incorrect, and Al did not hear the door open because the intimate nature of his door was understood by the intruder in ways that Al's mind could never be able to appreciate. Al did not hear the intruder enter the bedroom or the bathroom, and by then there was so little left to do but scream for a few moments before he was silenced.
The next day was Wednesday. It was Als day off and he left early in the morning and he returned late that afternoon. Upon arriving home Al repeatedly washed his hands, groomed himself, applied ointments to the scar that went down his spine, disposed of the bag of his own internal organs and rested his sensing apparatuses for six hours before he got up and went to work the next day.
His silent and uneventful bathroom trips went unnoticed by his coworkers, as did his lunch break that consisted of him driving to a restaurant and sitting in the parking lot for half an hour before driving back. Al had never been an interesting man, he had always been a perfect stranger.
|
[ TT ] Your father , his father , your great-grandfather - all were sailors or fishermen . Today you must explain to your father why his life-long assumption - that you too will work the sea , is wrong .
| I look to the window. I see the waves crashing upon the rocks of the shore. Had it not been for our boats the wold I know would not have extended beyond the shores our small island in the Aegean Sea. The sea was is our life it is our livelihood. The men fortunate enough have boats. They fish or ship cargo. Those without boats work in the cannery. I blessed to be born into a family of sailors. My father and grandfather were fishermen. My uncle is a millionaire. He owns a shipping company. I was brought in my fathers arms to sea while still nursing at my mothers breast. I could not yet speak or walk yet I had sea legs and the mouth of a sailor. I have been expected to follow in the footsteps of my ancestors. The fate of men of my family for time immemorable. I would forsake the confines of land and make my life at sea. My footsteps would generate waves rippling through the oceans.
The two pillars that sustain this community are the bounty of the sea and faith in the lord. While the men are out at sea beholden to its whim, subject to its currents, squalls, and storms the women and children are left to pray. Sunday spent in church. Prayers offered for the men at sea. My father and uncle among them. The names of those who had perished in the pursuit of providing for their family read out loud. Candles lit for the salvation of their souls. Collections taken for their widows and children. Hearing the name of my father called amongst the roles of the drown was my greatest fear. So I prayed and studied the teachings of the Church. Though I knew he was a sinful man. Prone to bouts of drunkenness. An adulterer with a woman in every port. A gambler. A liar. He is my father. He has provide well for my mother, sister and I. He has shown me the ways of the sea. He has taught me to trim a sail. To read the sky. To find the most bountiful fishing grounds. He has trained me to follow in the family tradition.
I have been greatly conflicted as of late. I am well versed in the sea going life. It is familiar. It is what is expected of me. I fear becoming yet one more of those names read by the priest each Sunday. In hearing those name and praying for their souls. Seeing the tears of their widows and destitution of their children has burdened my conscientious. Though the support the community pours out to them lifts my spirits. It is our faith that binds us and sustains us. It is in that faith I have found my calling.
I will follow in the foot steps of my ancestors. I will be a fisher. Though, like Peter, I will be a fisher of men.
|
[ WP ] You arrive in hell , and find that the devil has a different agenda than people think .
| Bobby Samuels woke up to find himself standing on the side of a road. Before him was a cracked but flat road that stretched as far as he could see in either direction. When he looked forward again a car had materialized. It was an old Buick, rust on the rocker panels and was a dusty red color. It looked like dried blood.
`` Where the hell am I?'' He wondered, unknowingly saying it aloud. He climbed the rocky shoulder, sand dumping into his shoes. Now he stood next to the car, looking into the desert. There were small shrubs, a few lonely cacti, but no sounds of living things.
He saw the car was unlocked and keys hung from the ignition. A funny if morbid keychain was attached to it; a skeleton resting in a coffin. He opened the drivers door, the hinge screaming in protest. The leather seats were cracked but comfortable. He touched the keys and the car roared to life. He closed the door then did something out of pure habit; put on his seat belt.
`` Fuck it.'' He said, spooking himself because he said this out loud too. He put the Buick in drive and started down the road. He was still disoriented, not knowing how he got here. The last thing he remembered was going to pick up Jen, it was her brothers anniversary of his suicide. He felt it was a bit odd to keep opening that wound every year, especially since it's been over 3, no, now 4 years since he hung himself. Jen found him. She was a wreck for nearly 10 months. It was hard on their relationship, but they were stronger because of it.
Now he was driving an old Buick in a desert. What happened? He pondered this as he drove, the landscape changing none as he moved. Flat hard pan with low shrubs and the occasional cactus. After about an hour, he could n't really tell as the car did n't have a clock, he turned on the radio.
`` HEY HEEEEYYYY! You're tuned in to 97.9 KHEL, this is your eternal host Belial here for a special announcement.'' The DJ said.
`` I'd like to welcome our new guests that should be arriving soon! They are, Colton, Ashly, Devon, Johan, Joshua,...'' The DJ spoke for a good five minutes just saying names. `` And our newest member Bobby! Welcome to HELL! Now, here's a little something for you all.''
AC/DCs Highway to Hell started.
Bobby was in shock. There's more than one Bobby out there. The DJ could n't have been talking about *him*. What was even more shocking is there were no other vehicles on the road, behind or ahead of him. Just endless desert and a strip of blacktop.
AC/DC was finishing up when the next song blared. It was weird, a strange wind sound. Then a voice said'Father! Why have you forsaken me!' Then a gravely voice roared the words'once upon the cross' and the rest of the band started. It was terrible to Bobby. He did n't even know music like this existed.
He tried to change the station but got nothing but the same racket across the board. After it was over, the DJ came back on.
`` That was Deicide with Once Upon the Cross, man I love that song. Oh and hey Bobby, stop trying to change the station, man! This is it from here on out!''
Another song kicked in then, Black Sabbaths children of the grave.
Bobby was in true shock now. Belial called him out by name. And he knew he tried to change the station. Then the penny dropped. He slammed on brakes suddenly, the Buick shuddering to a stop, leaving long black strips of rubber.
He was dead. He was in Hell.
`` Hey Bobby'' an extremely hoarse voice said. He looked to his right and Jens brother sat in the car. He smirked and waved.
`` How's my sister?''
Bobby did n't know if he could stop screaming. He screamed and screamed but Jimmy never disappeared. He tried to get out of the car, but Jimmy became alarmed,
`` Do n't open the fucking door man! That's what they want you to do'' he reached and grabbed Bobby's wrist. `` You have to keep driving. And stop fucking screaming!''
`` You're dead, man! You're fucking dead! How are you here? You're dead!''
`` Yeah, I realize. Look man it's a long drive and I was sent as an... ambassador of sorts. I'm to catch you up with what's going on. Now,'' he pointed out the windshield `` drive.''
Bobby was frozen, his eye as big as plates. He had stuffed himself against the door, getting a far from Jimmy as possible. Jimmy calmly looked out at the desert. Ok, Jimmy is dead, and the radio said'welcome to hell.' Am I really dead?
`` Yes'' both Jimmy and Belial the DJ said at once.
Bobby screamed again.
Now Jimmy was looking agitated and said to him rather bluntly,
`` Look dickhead, you're going to be plenty screaming once we get there but right now, shut the fuck up and keep driving.'' His voice was even more ragged the more agitated he got.
Bobby put the car in drive and crept along at a measly 15mph. Jimmy did n't protest, but was noticeably more civil now they were moving.
`` So,'' he began `` yes you are dead, yes this is Hell, and yes we are heading toward Golgotha. That's the capital of Hell, and where the newest are taken in for processing. Everyone went through Gol, so you'll do fine. If Yeshua can, so can you.''
`` You mean Jesus is in Hell? I thought he awoke after 3 days and ascended to Heaven.''
Jimmy laughed as he said, `` Yeah, Yahweh wants the humans to believe that because then his has more power over them. If humans knew the truth, his power would be next to nothing.''
The next song to come on was Madonnas Lucky Star.
`` Oh I love this track.'' Said Jimmy as he turned it up.
`` So what is the truth?'' Bobby asked. They were at highway speeds now, Bobby calmed enough by the music and a friendly face.
`` Truth is, Jesus did awaken after being sealed in that tomb, but it was n't as divine and beautiful as they want you to think. He practiced magic during his life, which is how he performed these so-called miracles. After 3 days of death by the hands of those who punished him, his masterwork was complete. He awoke as a lich.''
`` Come on,'' Bobby chuckled `` a lich? As in undead magic user that some how cheated death?'' He laughed harder now that the question was out there.
Jimmy on the other hand, was absolutely serious.
`` I'm serious, man. He hid is life force in a phylactery, and used the 3 days of true death to gather what power he needed. In his case it was the souls of the first born killed by the creeping death unleashed by Moses.''
Bobby was really laughing now. `` Ok I'll bite. The time frames are way off. Jesus died many years before Moses and the plagues.''
`` Again, that's what Yahweh wants us to believe. See he is n't the only god in the universe. There are multitudes of them. Each vying for the worship of their subjects. Some gods and their followers war amongst themselves. Others are benevolent and kind to their devout. Yahweh is kinda in the middle of the road. He can be vengeful then loving. Send death for the first born then bless his followers with fortune. Ah, there it is.'' He pointed to the furthest point on the horizon. It was the top of a spire, creeping over the edge of the horizon. Just the top was visible.
`` We should be there in about 4 hours.''
`` 4 hours? If were that far away and can see a tower, how fucking tall is that thing?'' Bobby asked with bewilderment.
`` Extremely.''
|
[ WP ] `` She said she loved him . '' Insert the word `` only '' anywhere in this sentence . It must be the final sentence of your story .
| It was late and he was tired. Stumbling into the kitchen, he braced himself on the counter top. He opened the refrigerator and crouched down to grab a beer. The cool air pouring out gave him a brief moment of clarity. Maybe I should n't he thought. Then he remembered what had happened. He said no. He told her no. God damn fool. He grabbed the last beer in the fridge and stumbled back to the counter. As he searched for a bottle opener, his mind could n't stop racing. You fool, you fool he thought. They had something real. Before he could find the opener, his knees buckled. As he fell so did the bottle. Smashing on the ground, he watch his liquid courage spread across the floor. The mess could wait. He lied down and wept in the puddle of beer and glass. Why was he so afraid of commitment? He blamed the one before her. The one who tore his heart out and stomped on it. That excuse would n't last forever though. It had been more than enough time for his heart to mend. Was he no longer capable of happiness? The puddle that surrounded his head gradually became a mixture of tears and booze. The sad truth was he felt the same way.
She only said she loved him.
|
[ WP ] A duel with your arch-nemesis . You 're both so immensely powerful it does not even make sense .
| Do you know why space appears black? The absence of light perhaps? Almost, but not quite.
The darkness that surrounds your galaxy is actually my shadow as I stand in defence of this universe of ours. Stood opposite me is he who wishes for the end of existence as we know it, clad in golden armour that shines brighter than anything comprehensible.
Giant, colossus, momentous. Words that could describe us. But in honesty, there has n't yet been a definition that quite captures our scale or our conflict.
By force of thought, I will a thousand arms on to my being. They form in synchronisation, emerging from my back and ribs. Bound in black plate, crackling blue with an electric glow they each wield a thousand blades. Longswords, scimitars, katanas, zweihanders. I make my move and assault.
Faster than light itself I charge head-on. Hundreds of blades corrugate in front of me, forming a shield, while another many hundred lash and whip at his golden armour.
His reaction matches my movements. He grows metal tendrils from his spine that wrap around my assaulting blades, constricting and breaking many in half.
The resulting debris causes a great many alterations within the universe. Sharpened edges tear super massive black-holes within space, while sparks from the clashing of metals form solar systems and galaxies.
Our struggle continues, as giant claws erupt from his chest, attempting to pry open the swords guarding my abdomen. He is strong. Just as he is about to shatter open my defence, I flourish my blades in to a parry. Slicing in half many of his claws and releasing myself from his golden, cybernetic tentacles.
We knocked each other away and clumsily tumbled back. The resulting fall creates solar tornadoes that will now blast through space eternally, destroying solar systems in their wake.
I revert to six arms now, wishing away what's left of my previous Nine-hundred and Ninety-four in favour of these larger, titanic limbs. As I lift myself up I see that he's throwing galaxies towards me: Hoag's object, Pinwheel Galaxy, Whirlpool, Boad's Galaxy. They hurtle towards me like sharpened shurikens. My many eyes witness the birth of these galaxies. Each a Tredecillion stars popping in to existence, with a Quindecillion planets and a Centillion lives. On some planets, civilisations are built and razed and built again over what you might perceive to be a millennia.
I should n't have thought about those lives. In that split second, I could have defended myself, but I was distracted. Pinwheel and Hoag's Object burst on my chest, piercing my armour. Whirlpool slices through two of my left arms.
I manage to catch Boad's Galaxy in one of my right hands as I stand up. I follow its trajectory and spin around three-hundred and sixty degrees and toss it back at him. He did n't move quickly enough. The galaxy whizzes towards his leg, cleaving through his thigh and ripping out through the other side.
We're paralysed for as long as we will it, and then our skirmish will begin again.
|
[ WP ] Tell me a story of the evolution of a sentient species .
| Many had theorised the origin of life on our planet, and many more, how we came to be sentient. Some had called upon a higher being - others, suggested magical goop. But here we speak of the evolution of our glorious species - Alveare Sericum.
The first organism was a small microscopic creature. It fed on the Silane in the air to create organic compounds for its body, and it got energy via photosynthesis. Later organisms were a distinctive purple hue, due to containing large amounts of a chemical that absorbed many colours of light, but reflected purple and ultraviolet.
This organism adapted to the lakes it lived in, due to multiple environmental difficulties. For example, it originally could not survive the constant explosions in the atmosphere like we could, but it adapted itself to have a harder cell membrane and cell wall. This evolved into the silicone shell we all know today. However, the creature now needed elements such as carbon to keep such a durable shell from degrading. This meant one thing - combat.
The only source of carbon in those primeval pools were vents that released carbon dioxide at very slow rates. Originally, many of the creatures adapted in different ways to make use of these vents, and thus the silicone shells. Some became stationary for their entire lives, photosynthesizing and taking in the carbon dioxide and silane. There constant life near these vents meant that they developed much harder silicone shells than the predatory creatures that lived around at that time.
Predatory instinct are the other way creatures acquired carbon. These creatures hunted and ate other creatures in order to get carbon to make the silicone shells. However, by doing this, creatures that evolved to gain excess energy from this process did better, as this meant they could hunt more. The bi-product of this meant they no longer had to photosynthesize, and could instead camouflage themselves against the ocean's colours, against the ultraviolet seeking eyes of the prey. These genes were so successful, that the creatures were able to evolve to stop being asexual organisms. They gradually became more sleek predators, to target the vent organisms that moved around from vent to vent.
However, the fact that our species was able to become sentient all depends on the fact that we were n't targeted. Predators targeted each other, and moving creatures, as they almost certainly had more energy. Moving creatures that were not predatory had no need for extra energy, as photosynthesis did very much well enough. This allowed stationary vent dwellers to dedicate less energy to defence than other moving species. They also began to absorb microorganisms from the oceans, as this was a cheap way to get both carbon and energy. But they still photosynthesized.
As other creatures moved onto the land and the air, exposed to more dangerous silane explosions and thus needing more defences, stationary vent dwellers could begin a monopoly on carbon, with strong defences, cheap to make because of the huge amounts of energy and material. More energy could be devoted to intelligence, and one species of coral, began to evolve a neural network.
As coral, we needed not much in the way of instinct. Feeding was done via microorganisms filtering into us, and photosynthesis. Automatic, not instinct. We had no predators, so there was no need for defensive instinct apart from `` Hide in shell. Wait.''. This meant that we could devote more energy to higher processes. Eventually, we were able to break free from the evolutionary staples of `` Eat, Divide, Die''.
We developed individual consciousnesses, each with loves, desires, wants, needs - but we still held on to each other. Small neural links meant we knew who needed nutrients, who was about to die, and so on. We could divert energy to the sick and needy, and to those of great accomplishment. There was no need for war, or fighting, as anyone who had the genetics to try such an uncalled for act would simply be obliterated by a simple system of `` Hide in shell, deny nutrients''. Evolution was too slow to allow them to thrive outside the colony. Eventually, it became obvious that those born with manipulators could be very valuable.
At first, these `` Syytlls'', as they are called, were given a very important task, a milestone in Sericanity's already admirable achievements - constructing a outer skeleton. It took many years of development, but eventually we were able to become completely protected. Poetry was thought and remembered by the hive, art was imagined and noted down - if an individual did not like the phenomenal works of Y. X. Gryylbs, then they simply forgot. Grudges never had to be kept - only instinct, of which we distrusted so fairly, of what to do.
Syytlls were now the entire population. Bits ogf colony purposely broke themselves off in order to create on land. Unwanted creatures were disposed of. The atmosphere was absorbed completely, all that delicious silane being used to create new poets, artist, writers, directors... Soon our planet was covered. We had become masters. Individuals and hive, united and yet different. We had become the ultimate organism.
Then, we looked up. And that's where we are today.
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[ WP ] A drug for eternal life has been developed . There 's only one catch ...
| The miracle of our generation, and perhaps all that lived before, wasn ’ t even created by humankind. In the middle of the 21st century, a single device holding eternity within its hollow walls was placed before us; a device that held the future for our species, but also carried the end.
They came from the abyss of space, riding on a plasma wave of flame and light as they scorched through the outer solar system towards our home. We saw them for some time before arrival, and prepared as best we could for the first war of our world; a war that would most definitely kill many of our kind. They arrived in a ship of such a vast size that it filled the night sky as a second moon, and contact was established instantly. First contact was always portrayed violently in our simulations, but when they came to rest in our orbit that war never came. What arrived instead was an offer of eternity, and a single choice for our species to make. I shall get to that after a brief introduction of our new equals in this universe.
The species was nothing like we ’ ve ever imagined our first sentient contact to be; not humanoid, but quite animalistic. The beings had very similar form to a panther, or canine, although standing nearly five feet tall on all fours; a frightfully intimidating sight. A long snake-like tail with a twin-pointed tip, like two dagger blades joined at the crux, flicked around with amazing speed and agility; the animal appeared as machine, bread only for war and death. Almost completely inorganic in outward appearance, they assured us of their biological beginnings and thoughts. Their color was a deep metallic blue, with skin built of overlapping panels and plating similar perhaps to an armadillo, yet jagged and pointed. Bright red glowing eyes met our gaze, but after our first contact these shields retracted revealing an eye that was nothing less than organic and human-like. With an unmatched intelligence, we were told that they can process information at speeds beyond that of light, information exists in a permanent un-called state to them – it simply is. They call themselves Valacharen.
Now back to the choice placed before us, and of a consequence that would remove humanity from existence. The device carried by these beings, as I said, carried eternity within it. It was not created by them, yet they had the blessing offered to them just as they now offer it to us. It was created by those that they serve, named only “ *Vala* ”, and that service is to assimilate all sentient organic life into *Vala*. It is a blessing of immortality. The device carries an unimaginably complex form of nanites; nanites that when introduced into an organic body alter the makeup of cells and convert the exposed being into a highly mechanized being, one that has no end to life. The intelligence of *Vala* would be instantly assimilated into any new being accepting this blessing. They, and all that serve them, share a consciousness. They are all separate entities, yet share all intelligence between every sensor. This blessing comes with a cost though, and denying the blessing with another. To accept *Vala*, our species has to serve the ultimate objective to assimilate all sentient organic life into them. Humankind and their history will forever cease to be from this choice forward. Nothing of our past will remain. Any denying the blessing will remain on Earth, only to be vaporized when the Valacharen head back out beyond our system to continue with the ultimate objective. As the choice states, nothing of our past can remain.
edit: Punctuation. Grammar.
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[ WP ] A man has the power to transfer bad luck , pessimism , despair , and other forms of negativity from person to person , but never to destroy it . He struggles to use this power to make the world a better place overall .
| His name was well known, but humanity most commonly referred to him by his title: The Gatherer.
They called him the Gatherer for his ability to gather and remove negative emotions. Hatred, sadness, even psychological pain could be transferred from one's mind and into the Gatherer's hands. For decades, the Gatherer had traveled the world, slowly removing each and every man's burdens.
There was skepticism at first. Resistance, cries of charlatanry and fraud. But as he laid hands upon the bitter, they turned sweet. As wrathful men met his touch, so too did they lay down their arms. In mere months, the Gatherer's fame spread. Soon, no gate stood locked before him. Men would kneel as he passed. And, after some years, everyone he met would smile.
Some men sought to follow the Gatherer, to worship him in person. Women, too, sought to please him. Gifts flowed from every corner of the world. But the Gatherer refused all companions and accepted no kindness.
After many, many years, the Gatherer found himself exhausted. He had, by his count, blessed each and every person in the world. He had saved countless lives and improved countless more. With negative feelings removed from each parent, children too could live without mental suffering. By all means, the Gatherer had made a utopia.
But as the Gatherer looked out from the White Cliffs of Dover towards the vast sea before him, he felt no joy. The weight of the world sat upon his chest, and he wept in silence, as he had done many times before.
`` Lord,'' he cried. `` I have done all I can do!''
There was no reply, save the sound of the sea.
`` I have cleansed the world of fury, of despair, of madness!'' the Gatherer continued. `` I alone carry the world's woes! I alone weep! I alone despair!''
He collapsed onto the ground, sobbing. `` When, Lord? When will my task end?''
Nothing. The Gatherer wept violently. He knew he had not asked the Lord for such a gift. Nor, then, could he ask Him to be freed from its burdens. The sea waves crashed violently against the cliffs, and the Gatherer peered over the edge, as he had done many times before. The height of the cliffs was substantial. The Gatherer struggled with his most intrusive thoughts as clouds began rumbling overhead.
All men had been saved. All but one. He thought of the people he had helped. He thought of their happiness. Their smiles. It would be right, he thought. To empty the vessel into the sea. To end the journey.
It was time. He edged towards the cliff, his fragile body shaking. The view of the sea was beautiful.
But as he leaned over the cliff, he felt hands suddenly grasping at his shoulders and torso. He turned in bewilderment and saw dozens of people clamoring to pull him from the cliff.
`` Let me go!'' the Gatherer cried in frustration. `` This is the best way!''
`` No!'' replied those around him. `` It is not your burden to bear!''
Hands began to touch the Gatherer's forehead, and he gasped as he felt the transfers reversing.
`` To save all men, one sacrifice is nothing!'' the Gatherer replied frantically as he squirmed in desperation.
`` No man should bear the weight of the world alone!'' the crowd responded, pulling the Gatherer away from the cliff.
`` Fools! You unravel a life's labor! Let an old man die, and live with the gifts you have been given!''
`` We are! It was your blessing which led us to you! You cleared our minds of suffering -- and so revealed the righteous path! To share the burdens of life, to endure together, to walk the long road as one!''
The Gatherer fell silent as the men sat him gently upon the ground. The tight knot in his chest lessened a little more as each additional hand touched his forehead.
`` I do n't want others to suffer.'' the Gatherer whispered to the ground.
One of the men knelt and placed a blanket upon the Gatherer's shoulders. `` Had we known that you alone would bear our burdens, we would have chosen to suffer with you.''
The Gatherer did not respond. The man beckoned him to stand.
`` We will begin the second half of your journey, Gatherer.'' he said. `` Soon, you will be free.''
The Gatherer did not look at the man, but instead looked up at the clouded sky. It had been decades since he had last thought of himself. Decades since he had felt alive.
After a long moment, the Gatherer smiled weakly.
`` I hope that you are right.''
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[ wp ] Write about the event that brings a woman face to face with the answer to the question `` what does it mean to be human ? ''
| Sitting on the couch with her snuggle on to keep warm, the woman listened to a movie with visual descriptors to tell her what was happening. She closed her eyes to rest them as she continued to listen to the movie, Independence Day with Will Smith.
The aliens just struck the earth with its explosive ray beams, destroying the city. Screams ripped across the room in terror, trying to escape its killing blasts.
A window crashed into her room, startling her up from the couch.
`` Who's there?!'' she said, listening for the movements. Silence.
She took her snuggle blanket off to ready herself for defense if necessary. Still hearing nothing, she remained where she was, not trusting that the trouble had gone away.
`` Who's—'' she started again, and heard someone tumble into the room. Then she heard another, and more came into the house. Shocked by the number of people and the amount of noise, she froze, trying to figure out what to do next in this face of trouble.
`` Keep quiet,'' one man said, his voice sounded rough, like he had been smoking several packs a day.
Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth to scream for help when someone tackled her to the ground.
`` No! Stop!'' she yelled, squirming, trying to find a way to kick him off, but soon was overwhelmed by several hands laying on her, restricting. Before she could scream again, a sock was stuffed into her mouth and a duct tape covered her lips, Gagging on the smell of used sock, she teared up.
'I'm going to die,' she thought. Chloroform on a piece of tissue was stuffed under her nose, knocking her out.
Her body was sore, as though it had been beaten to a bloody pulp. Testing her arms, she felt her skin caked with something crusty. The scent of her nose told her it was blood, and something else.
Taking a deep breath, she gasped as a searing pain shot up from her lungs.
`` She's awake, boys,'' the same voice said, and chuckled. `` We sure had fun with you.''
Stammering, she tried to speak but could not find the strength. Her legs felt torn, and the apex of her legs—was on fire.
`` We're done with you,'' he said, walking away. `` Do whatever you wan na do with her. I do n't care. Just make sure the fuzz does n't use her as evidence leading back to us.''
The door clicked close, ringing out through the room.
`` So, pretty thing, can you see anything?'' one asked as he breathed on her, his breath tinged with marijuana and whiskey. Bad whiskey at that.
She spat spittle into his direction and found its target. He spluttered, falling away from her and landing on his back.
`` Bitch! Right in my mouth!''
She smirked.
A crack sounded through her, and she screamed, feeling her leg break under a metal bat. She felt blood spilling from the break. Her breaths in short gasps, she tried to slow down her breaths. She could not—and her head was getting dizzy. Her skin felt clammy and cold.
'Why… are humans so… so cruel…' she thought.'Aliens in that movie have nothing on these guys…'
Another crack, and she grunted, no longer having any strength left to scream. Her right arm had broken. If only she could see! To see these terrible human beings. Forget finding out what aliens look like, she wanted to see what a human looked like in their depravity.
`` He'd you like that, huh, bitch?'' the same guy who breathed on her said.
She quivered on the ground, feeling colder by the minute.
`` That's what I thought,'' he said, sounding like he was smirking.
`` Leh—leh—'' she tried to speak, her lungs still feeling as though punctured.
`` What're you trying to say, Lil' flower?''
`` Le' me die,'' she whispered.'I do n't want to be a human anymore, if this is what humans do in the darkest of their souls. Having forgotten what love was under their torments, she now made the declaration.
`` Humans… hah'no… boun's when i''omes the…'' she struggled.
`` What, humans have no bounds when it comes to what?'' he repeated, mocking her.
`` Depravity and evil,'' she finished. She relaxed, gasping for breath. `` I no lon'er wan' be human.'Eh'ill me now.''
He chuckled, `` I do n't think so. The fun's just getting started!''
She sobbed, and whimpered as she felt another hand lay on her. Shaking, she tried to close her mind to what was happening to her body.
'Aliens… please blow this up… that's the best thing about you… you do n't torment us. Please take this place apart!' she begged in her mind, wishing the movie was real so she could escape the torment.
Shivering, she locked into her mind as the men had their way with her. Dulled to the sensations, she thought about her life. How she was born blind, have never seen a human face before.
One thing she knew for sure,'Being a human sucks.'
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[ WP ] You are a trained sniper/assassin , your target is giving a speech and you have already took up position inside of the building , your crosshair is on her face as she begins her speech and
| ... something is wrong. The magnification of her face through the scope gives it away. Just barely visible beneath the hair in front of her ear, a mole, a birthmark. Something that should n't be there, not on the real target. *This is n't her. Fuck. * Someone found out. How hard had it been to find this doppelgänger? The crowd could n't tell. None of the reporters, the cameramen - *their* lenses would n't reveal this falsehood. *Ca n't shoot someone who is n't the target. * You recite your tried-and-true rule to yourself. Nothing like this has ever happened before, but then again, never have the stakes been so high.
*Who the fuck is the rat? * The pace of your anxious thoughts quickens, and every possible member of the crew flashes before you. The last few meet-ups, nothing seemed amiss. They'd caught informants before, hell they *always* knew if there was one, even if they did n't know who it was. This last thought echoes harder than the others and you jolt to your senses. Setting down the rifle and sidling up as close as possible to the window, you peer out at the throng and gaze at the buildings across the street. Nothing. The `` target'' has begun her speech. *You know why you are here today. * The crowd lulls, your perception of the words dulled through the windowpane. *No ma'am, not anymore. Not anymore. *
This is the lie you tell yourself as your racing thoughts shudder to a halt, your final destination the realization of who the *real* target of this hit is. One hand on the butt of the rifle, you slouch and turn around to face the doorway, your back against the window. A dull click. Your vision begins to fade as your head lolls to the right, sometime during the collapse over onto the floor. As you lose consciousness, the words of your one-time accomplice take on the same muted quality as those of the speech reach your ears, even though they come from just across the room in the doorframe. *Sorry mate. Costs of doing business. *
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[ WP ] The dreamcatcher tattoo she got turned her into a reservoir of trapped nightmares .
| The sound of voices from the next apartment rose from a gentle hiss to a heated argument in moments. Sarah glanced over at the wall separating her from the next apartment with a wry look. Then she sat up, put on her slippers and then donned a rose colored housecoat. She padded to the kitchen and started some coffee brewing. It ought to be ready by the time it was needed. She went to the front door of her apartment and without removing the chain she cracked the door and peeked out with one eyeball, waiting.
The door to Mari's apartment burst open and a rumpled looking blond man emerged looking angry and embarrassed. His shirt was unbuttoned down the front and he looked like he had dressed hastily. Mari came after him a moment later, saying, `` It happens from time to time. It's really no big deal…''
`` Every single *night*?!'' the man complained. `` That's not from time to time. And you knew!''
`` Quiet, you ass, you'll wake up the whole damned building!'' Mari stage whispered frantically as she followed him toward the lobby.
`` You could have *told* me, you know!'' he said, at least somewhat more quietly. Sarah could only see Mari's back, but she pictured her lips quirking in a mix of disgust and frustration.
`` I *did* tell you!'' Mari insisted. Her tone was a little sour, but also slightly guilty. It was a weak assertion at best.
`` On the third night?'' the blond man asked her. `` And only because I wondered aloud what was happening? Yeah, thanks for that. God, I could have ended up in therapy or something.''
`` It's not as bad as you're making it sound,'' Mari said, sounding less sympathetic now and more defensive.
`` Continuous nightmares every time I go to sleep is n't as bad as I'm making it sound?'' he asked incredulously, standing briefly in the doorframe halfway between the hall and the lobby. He had paused his headlong flight for the door, but only momentarily. `` Tell that to just about anyone with PTSD, Honey.''
`` Evan! Listen to me! All you have to do is…'' she called out, no doubt louder than she had intended. But Evan had already stepped out the door, and was walking away with his hands in the air in a gesture that made it clear he was done talking. Even through the closed glass doors Sarah could plainly hear the slam of his car door and the roar of his Mustang starting with its crappy muffler that would never pass inspection. She saw Mari lean back against the the wall, cross her arms and watch him go. Only then did Sarah open the door more fully and go out to her friend.
`` Another one, huh?'' she asked, and Mari jumped slightly at the sound of her voice. `` Sorry. I… uh, heard.''
`` Yeah,'' Mari said with another sigh. `` It's my fault, as usual. I just ca n't get used to sleeping on the left side of the bed.'' She made an exasperated gesture with her arm and out of reflex Sarah flinched to avoid contact with the dreamcatcher tattoo on the back of Mari's hand. Then she silently chastised herself for such a reflex action.
`` It's a shame,'' Sarah told her with a smirk. `` He was *hot*.''
`` I *know*, right,'' Mari told her, grinning back crookedly. She looked down at her own tattoo, and her expression turned remorseful. `` Worst decision of my life,'' she said of it, as she had numerous times since that drunken night when a carnival gypsy had talked her into getting it.
`` Hey, come on,'' Sarah told her. `` I'm making coffee. Decaf, OK? But I thought you might want to talk about it.''
`` Thanks. Yeah. I'll be right over. First I got ta change the sheets.''
Sarah stopped dead for a moment as she processed this remark. `` Wait. You mean?'' Mari nodded. The two women stared at one another for a moment while childish grins struggled to make strange shapes out of their mouths. And then the two of them hugged each other as they laughed uncontrollably for a few minutes. `` It is n't really funny,'' Mari tried to tell Sarah with a fleeting attempt at a stern look. But it was well past midnight, and saying that only made it worse.
It was only when Mrs. Foster's door cracked open and they saw her glaring disapprovingly out at them that the two finally settled down. They apologized hastily as the old woman closed her door on them once more.
Sarah, her eyes glittering with danger of fresh laughter, said, `` You know what? Screw Decaf. I think we need the good stuff. I'm making a fresh pot. OK?'' Mari nodded, agreeing with her completely.
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[ WP ] Make me fall in love with a character , only to end up hating said character with ONE sentence at the end
| I could hear their muffled voices. `` Is Sam going to wake up''? it was my mother. `` Your son has entered a deep coma, and we need to make sure we manage our expectations''. I could hear my mother crying and I wanted to call out that I was okay, that I felt fine but I did n't have the energy. A few hours later I heard my fiance. She came close to me and held my hand. `` I love you Sam, I know we will get through this and then have the best marriage ever, I just know it''. I heard every word and felt profound happiness. I had the best fiance in the entire world and I knew I was n't dying; I was already starting to feel sensation in my arms.
I thought about all the good deeds and changes to my life I would start making when I got through this. I vowed to forgive my dad, alcoholism is a disease and I needed to stop viewing it as a choice. I also realized my job was killing me and over time would ruin my relationship. I worked too hard, and was often too tired to express my love to my fiance. Finally, I knew I would give my fiance the wedding she wanted, large with both of our families and friends, and a honeymoon in Hawaii. I had been so stubborn in downsizing our wedding and I knew my fiance was only pretending to be okay with it. She had dreamed of her wedding day since she was a child.
Two days passed. I could hear my fiance coming back in the room to visit me. `` Sam... I'm pregnant, we are going to have a baby'' She hugged my body and started to cry `` Oh, Sam, I know you will be the best father ever, you just have to wake up''.
A week passed and Sam regained full control over his arms. He reached over to the ventilator that was keeping him alive and turned it off.
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[ WP ] One day everyone notices the words `` Human Update 1.1 progress 1 % '' in the corner of their eye .
| I left him at 10 %. See, not many people know how to manipulate the progress bar. I hacked him easily, downsaved his progress to my softdrive and left his mind back in fifth grade. Men never notice me coming because I'm the most progressive woman in history and can dodge their sophomoric insight and cheap lie detector applications. I did n't kill him. Not the guy from last night. But I might as well have. No self-respecting thirty-year-old even leaves the house if they are at 10 %. It will take him years to get back to efficiency levels, and he will never understand why it all happened. All because he trusted me. Maybe that's why I do it. I'm addicted to the aftermath more than the high of increased progress. I should be done with this, it's too easy to get caught by the regulation committee these days. We'll see if I'm strong enough to stop. Probably not.
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[ IP ] The monsters . They are coming .
| `` Monsters of the Mind's Own Making''
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By Kenneth Cummings
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The man stared out at the mysterious, majestic ocean before him with a cigarette in one hand and a steel-grey flask of whisky in the other. Entering his cone of vision and scattered across the sea to the horizon, terrible ash-creatures of unfathomable horror marched towards him. They were long, slender, sloppy, simplistic things. Their form defied reason or biological categorisation, almost like something out of a bored artist's sketchbook.
Robert took another swig of the half-empty flask and shoved it back into his trenchcoat pocket. He took another long drag from his half-burnt cigarette.
*They wo n't get me. They ca n't get me. They are n't real. *
Their flesh appeared to *move* and their mouths were ill-shaped maws with jagged, chaotic sets of teeth surrounding them. Their arrival was announced by the sudden halting of the rain storm and their screeching siren-like roar reverberating throughout the shore and presumably into the city as well.
But Robert could n't be bothered, or at least he was trying awfully hard not to be. He casually adjusted his hat so as to hide what few grey hairs he had left, as though it would make a difference when he was all alone on an empty beach on a rainy Saturday morning.
The gargantuan creatures that crawled from the ocean floor ceased to shamble and started to sprint. But Robert could not be bothered, because he knew this was his mind testing him, trying to trick him as it had his whole life.
`` You are n't real!'' he shouted. `` None of this shit is real!''
He immediately imbibed the last of the whisky and tossed the fragile flask to the floor, causing it to shatter into two big pieces and many little pieces. He had dealt with these hallucinatory creatures all his life, and though his family and many doctors sought to treat him, he never could be rid of them, not when reality and unreality are so similar.
But never before were the monsters and visions and creatures and hallucinations or delusions ever so fearsome. By now they were closer to the sand and he could see they had grown in scale since he first saw them. They were one hundred times Robert's size or maybe bigger. But he could n't give them the time of day. He could n't give in to the delusion, because that would mean they win.
He opened his fingers and let the last cigarette drop. When it did, he stomped it with total indignation. Then, when the first of the monsters reached him, it scooped him up in its unfeeling hands and tore his body in half with its dull teeth all in the span of a second, not even giving Robert time enough to scream.
This time, the monsters were real.
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[ WP ] You see a teenage girl sitting on a bench in the park . She is crying . You ask her if she is okay . She looks at you and says : `` You can see me ? ''
| `` Yeah?''
She wiped her tears and looked up at me, sniffling. `` How?''
`` Uhh... because... uhh...''
She giggled. `` I'm sorry. It's just that'' she shook her head, `` you're not supposed to be able to see me. No one is. Wait!'' She snapped her fingers and looked at me, wide-eyed. `` Do you know Motarz?''
`` Mozart?''
She shook her head. `` Motarz!'' She frowned at me like I had done something bad. `` You do n't know who that is?''
`` Uhh... Mozart's twin brother?'' I guessed, shrugging and grinning awkwardly. `` Heh..''
She glared, but then her eyes softened. She looked around, like she was worried. `` You need to leave,'' she whispered, not making eye-contact.
`` O-okay, sure, uhm-''
`` Now!'' She hissed.
I stepped back. I turned to go, but her face was making me feel like she was in serious trouble. For some reason, I did n't want her to get hurt.
`` Look, if you need help, I can-''
She stood up and looked me straight in the eye, and poked me in the chest. `` You ca n't help me. You do n't even know how come you can see me. You do n't even know who Motarz is!'' She flapped her arms, tears welling up in her eyes as she looked away and sat back down. `` Just go. Please...''
`` No!'' I blurted out, before I could help myself. `` There has to be something we... you can do. I mean, we can call the cops! Or, your parents, relatives, anyone you know..friends!''
She looked up at me silently. I was trembling with emotion, frustrated that she would n't let me help her and angry towards whatever it was out there that had made her feel so helpless.
I put my foot down. `` I'm not leaving you.''
She looked like she was about to speak, but then several sharp screams pierced the air and an explosion rocked me off my feet.
What the hell was going on?
People ran by me as I crawled to the side, trying not to get trampled by the stampede. The mystery girl jumped off the bench and began running in the direction towards where the explosion had come from.
`` Wait!'' I yelled, running after her, pushing against the bodies that pushed back and carried me further and further away.
Eventually, she disappeared from sight and hands were grabbing me from all sides.
`` Let me go!'' I shouted, fighting back as the cops restrained.
`` It's alright, it's alright!'' They kept saying. `` You're safe, you're out of harms way.''
`` No! There is a girl back there! I need to..go..save her..'' I panted, gritting my teeth in determination as more and more cops came and wrestled me to the ground, clasping my hands in handcuffs.
`` For your own good,'' they told me. `` Do n't worry, kid. We have people heading over there right now.''
Another explosion rippled through the air.
`` NO!'' I screamed. It was too late. Tears streamed from my eyes as I buried my face in the ground.
It was too late.
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[ WP ] In a future where everyone has electronic brain implants to make them smarter , you are the only student at a school without an implant due to a birth defect . You are a perfectly functional human being , but your parents , teachers , and classmates treat you like you 're mentally handicapped .
| I remember the first thing my mama told me when they found out I could n't have the implant.
She said, `` I'm sorry, baby. You'll grow up to be a fine and respected woman anyway, I know it.'' It was probably the only thing she said that was n't right.
I had grown the first part of life regular like everyone else, and I was more than ready to finally think the way that people are *supposed* to -- to understand things with the ease that our technology allowed.
But I was stuck with my handicapped brain forever. It was a smarter handicapped brain than most children my age who had n't gotten the implant, but it would n't make a difference.
I remember my first thought when I found out that I would be dumb forever was of the hippie folk who believed in the *natural* brain, and the people who believed in the conspiracy that the implants would be used for mind control by the government. I think it was just my natural brain trying to be optimistic about the situation.
It's been years now and the hippies or conspiracy theorists would sometimes enter my mind since then. Was there truth to what they said?
It was career day at the school and my classmates were supposed to present a topic about a job their dream job.
`` A few years from now, I'm going to be an astronaut. It may seem silly or mediocre these days, but simple rocket science has equated to tremendous achievements in and out of the world, and I am confident that I am a great contender for this field of work.....''
His voice began to fade away as I grew less interested in his speech. They did n't get it. Everyone is smart. The cure to several different cancers and diseases had been invented. We've discovered so many planets throughout the galaxy and beyond, had so many technological breakthroughs, and there was more progress to come. But they're all smart. They're all the same. No one stands out. No one is brilliant because they're all brilliant. The only form of creativity was the type used to make new inventions.
`` Kasey, your turn to go up.''
I woke from my daydream and walked up to the front of the room quickly. As I stood in front of the class I awkwardly smoothed out my shirt. They were all watching to find out how I would embarrass myself today. Would it be like the time where everyone laughed because I horribly mispronounced the words from the essays we read in French class? Or would I get another condescending remark from my teacher. `` Should n't you know the history of wumbology, Kasey? It's first grade!''
`` Ahem. I've chosen to panoply to you individuals my engrossment on the practice of expression and experience.''
A few giggles. They knew I had looked up half of the words in my speech and replaced them with words in the thesaurus. So I gave up on that approach.
I continued, `` Look at the world around you! You think you have fun when you go to a dance, you think you've had your fair share of thrill by going sky diving, but you know what? I'm not missing out. You are. Did you know that just a few centuries ago, instead of calculating trajectories when to throw the basketball, people practiced and trained, and knew the exact same things you do, but without the equations? Did you know that people found the beauty in so many things because it was so abstract. Traveling and viewing wildlife was an amazing thing because people got to experience and learn about the new culture and animals around them. You travel, and you've already mastered the language and brain games unique to their culture. You already know the animals and how they behave, why their wings are so beautiful and how they work. Did you ever stop to think that the beauty is in the mystery? The seven wonders of the world were wonderful because of their mystery. Their allure. Maybe leaving the story untold is better than discovering the answer. They used to tell stories around a campfire, you know. Stories about creatures in the woods that left chills inside you because you were n't totally sure if those creatures were actually out there. There were movies which may not have been realistic, but they told amazing stories and the effects, though impossible -- nobody could actually survive a fire that crazy, right? -- they left people in amazement or wonder for days. Maybe, just maybe, it could be more beautiful not knowing. Maybe humanity was n't meant to be this smart, because every great achievement has a backfire. Every great empire falls. Every leader, no matter how great, will end up in a grave.''
Nobody clapped. I was just a mentally handicapped girl, anyway. What I said did n't really mean anything.
*edit: formatting*
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[ WP ] `` A watched pot never boils '' , as the old saying goes . Throughout all of history there has always been at least one set of eyes on the ocean . Today , for a split second , everyone looking at the ocean looked away at the exact same time .
| The last voyage of the USS Ulysses shook the world. Journals recovered from the grave kept meticulous accord of the watch-standers, who sat upon the the mastheads even during the last moments as the ship sank to the sea. No rescues were ever made.
The Ulysses was the only ship in the world that still ran with sails; the military had long since abandoned outboard watches, preferring digital readouts from cameras safely inside the cabin. Private mariners, too, had made the switch and the goggles they wore gave echolocations of schools about the watery depths. Trolling the waters was more exciting with VR magic. From their TV screens and augmented vision they watched in horror, as Periscope^^tm vision broadcast to the world the boiling of the sea. Fish floated to the surface, whales breached in unison, and the fog grew heavy as millions of screams were heard'round the world.
The the final entry of the captain's log on the USS Ulysses:
23:29 The ship is sinking. God save us all, our patrol is done.
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[ WP ] Upon dying , you restart your life all over again . There are hints , easter eggs as it were , that tell you exactly how many times you have looped and what has happened before but they have never been discovered . Deja-vu 's are glitches in the loop but are shrugged off . One day you break the loop .
| If you asked me at any point of my life what my lucky number was, I would have said twelve. I did n't know why, but someone asked one day and the answer was on the tip of my tongue and sliding past my teeth before I could really rationalise it. Twelve. I ran with it, however. The twelfth of every month was a good day; I'd buy eggs in cartons of twelve... The list went on. Girlfriends thought I was crazy, but there had only been eleven of them.
I was sure number twelve was the one.
The red ford I drove was a cantankerous piece of shit. It had rust growing like something organic over the hood and I'd had cardboard taped over the passenger side window for about as long as I'd had it. Nine out of ten times it would n't start, and more than once I'd had to be *that guy* who needed pushing off the end of his driveway. The day of the accident it started perfectly.
I trundled out of the maze of my neighbourhood, not really paying attention to anything. It was a mild day out, the cardboard was n't letting much breeze in and a couple of kids were playing with a blue ball in the street. I slowed down as I passed them, watching them out of the remaining working window. They stood back to let me drive through; the older one holding the ball still in one hand and the strap of his younger brother's overalls with the other. They both had matching curly hair, and little trainers.
A black cat streaked across my way and I swerved to the right to avoid it, narrowly avoiding scraping the side off some shining silver beemer. As soon as I straightened out, I got hit with that spine-tingling deja-vu feeling you get sometimes. It was one of those when you know in the back of your mind what's going to happen next, but there's no way you can avoid it.
I looked up and the SUV was upon me. I suppose I had been expecting it.
-- -- -- -- -- --
`` Clear!''
There's a burning smell in the air; like singed hair and overdone toast. My chest feels like it's on fire, like I've swallowed a flaming sword. God, I ca n't breathe. There's something on my face. I try to move my arm to swipe it away and the resulting pain spreads like lava over my shoulders and chest.
`` No,'' I think I'm thrashing. Cold hands are on me, but they're poking and twisting and everything is on fire. `` Please...''
`` Time of resuscitation: thirteen-hundred hours.'' A voice is barking overhead. The sound grinds its way into my heart and sits there.
*Thirteen hundred hours. Thirteen hundred hours. *
I'm alive. I died. I must have died. Why does this feel so wrong?
`` Sir, we're going to sedate you now,'' this is a woman's voice. Hers sounds like mercury; smooth and deadly, compared to the grittiness of the man's. `` We have to take you to a hospital.''
`` I do n't...'' I ca n't afford a hospital. I attempt to sit up, but her hands are on my shoulders, keeping me down.
`` Shh, it's going to be alright. It's Gunner, right?''
`` No... My name is Logan.''
`` We've checked the ID in the car. It belongs to a Gunner James. Is that you?''
`` No, I'm Logan Walker. It's my car... I do n't. Someone hit me!''
`` You're clearly confused. We're going to have to run some checks. Please be calm while I administer this sedative.''
`` I do n't want to take a sedative.''
`` Mr. James --''
`` My name's not Gunner James!''
`` Harry,'' sottovoce, she turns to her companion. `` I think he's a Breaker.''
Footsteps clip on my left. I want to look up, but it hurts to twist my neck.
`` Fucking resuscitation,'' the gritted voice growls. `` Sedate him now. We need him in containment.''
`` No!'' I wiggle on the stretcher placed beneath me, but it's no good. His hands come down to hold my left arm in place, the woman rolls up my sleeve. The needle traces my vein, cold as silver. I'm trying to scream, but the air wo n't rush into my lungs. The needle enters, a pinprick of pain and the white sleep rushes up my veins. I'm gone before I can breathe again.
|
[ WP ] Every century , 10 individuals are seemingly randomly selected and pitted against each other in a battle to the death . The reward is the chance to have any single question answered with 100 % accuracy , no matter how unknowable it may seem .
| I looked at the now bloody sword in my hands, everything had escalated so quickly.
It all just seemed so surreal.
From one moment to another, I was knitting socks and now I've killed the hope of 8 families.
I thought of it all as a silly prank up untill the moment a mysterious organisation came knocking on my door.
They did n't even give me the time to finish the last sock.
I was thrown into a black minivan and before I could even comprehend what was happening, they had pushed me into an arena with only the clothes I had on my back to defend myself with.
There was no countdown.
Everyone just ran around without really knowing what to do. There was an hunger games inspired cornucopia in the middle. They sure had a sick sense of humour. I did the only thing that seemed logical and ran towards the huge pile of weapons.
That's where I got the sword.
It was all kill or be killed from then on.
There were 9 others: one baby, 3 kids/teenagers, about 2 students, 2 adults and 2 grandparents, me included.
`` Just drop the sword granny, we do n't have to make this any harder than it already is'', a cocky tween said, while pointing a crossbow at me.
`` O dear, you're holding the damn weapon the wrong way, you'll hurt yourself this way'' I answered.
The youngster shrugged it off `` what does an old lady know about weapons?'' And he pulled the trigger, causing the misplaced arrow to plunge straight through his foot, pinning him to the ground.
The kid screamed in pain and dropped the bow.
I casually strolled over to him and pulled the arrow out of his foot.
`` You should have worn socks, now your foot will get infected''.
`` WHAT THE F*CK IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU CRAZY OLD HAG?!''.
I smiled and cut his foot off in one swift movement, `` you should respect the elderly''.
The kid just cried and without saying anything else, I ended him.
I looked around, there were three corpses and the baby, strangely enough, still alive.
The little angel stretched her arms out as if she was saying: `` save me'' so I did.
`` Five down, four to go'' I said to myself as I wiped some blood off the sword.
Where was everyone? At that moment a student plummeted down from the trees, only to make a sickening sound as he hit the rocky ground.
`` Three'', was all I said.
I just continued walking.
Around noon, I encountered the old man, his face covered in blood.
`` Hello dear, do you happen to know where the others are?'' I asked
`` I ate them, I had to, they wanted me to''.
Great, the last guy was an absolute psycho.
`` Eight down, one to go'' I said, looking at the sword.
The man just yelled and charged at me.
Without any hesitation I pointed my sword forward and watched the man run into it.
`` You really are stupid, are n't you?''
The man just looked at me with big eyes and proceeded to cough up an insane amount of blood.
`` I would love to stay for a bit, but there is a beautiful sock waiting for me, I do n't know why, but those suckers always disappear on me''.
As I pulled the sword out, a heavenly sound came from above and the skies seemed to split open.
`` Thou has survived the challenge, thou may now ask one question, no matter how impossible and I shall answer truthfully, if not, thou shalt become the new emperor of the skies''
There were so many questions going through my mind, who were these people? why us? why were they all missing one sock?
I looked at the skies and smiled.
`` O emperor of the skies, where are the missing socks?''
Laughter boomed from above.
`` Thou can not be serious, has thou lost thein mind?''
`` No, great emperor, I just seek the answer.''
I waited for what seemed like an eternity.
Looking up to the sky, I saw a big staircase stretch out, that led me up to a beautiful palace.
A scrawny man bowed down beside me.
`` Empress''.
-- this was my first prompt, English is not my first language, but I hope you all liked it.
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[ WP ] After being cryogenically frozen you awaken in a large spaceship with what remains of humanity . They only woke you up to experiment on you , but after hundreds of generations in a low gravity environment , they are hilariously weak compared to you
| Slowly I opened my eyes. It felt like just a moment ago the cold, ice ran through my veins and I felt my entire body fall into a deep frozen slumber. I did n't sleep, I did n't blink, I never woke up from my colder coma, simply... Rested. It felt like the most Amazing and fulfilling sleep of my life.
I was put to sleep, with 12 other research candidates as member's of an elite team to research the effects of Cryogenic Stasis on the Human body. I was selected because of my Athletic talent, being a world class athlete and member of the fledgling UNSC Navy, I was at the peak of my physical Conditioning. We were going to sleep on June 9, 2241 and we were scheduled to be woken up 30 days later.
Groaning I watched as fog pulsated over the lense of my capsule. Being installed abroad the UNSC Phoenix Fire, we were to orbit the Sun at near light speed to maximize the effect. We had calculated that our 30 days, would equal to around 90 Human years, and we would be able to benefit from mankind's immense jump in technology to analyze the affects of this research.
`` Alright doc, you can turn the light off. `` I exclaimed as bright lights shown in on the pod, and I pushed the ejector button I had just been told about when I went in but something was n't quite right. I Jammed it several times and the button did n't budge. In fact... There were no lights on in my tiny frozen cockpit at all. Kicking the door firmly it cracked the glass, and Kicking again it went open, launching the lid outward and it bounced awkwardly against the back wall.
Along with the 3 researchers, there were only 15 people on board, and 12 of us were in pods. Looking back and forth, something seemed off. There was someone there hiding behind one of the other pods, but he was cowering in fear and terror, and all the other pods were empty. My initial thought was I was the last one awake, until I noticed that it was Super cold out of my pod.
`` Doc, come out of there, Whats going on?'' I asked, floating out and raising up into the room slowly. He looked left and right, slowly focusing on my and pointing to himself, almost like he did n't understand me. That's when something clicked, and I realized that he was n't one of the 3 researches watching over us. I was friends with the pilot, and the other 2 researchers were Black. This guy, whoever he was, was very short in stature and appeared... Like an elf?
He slowly pushed off, pointed ears and everything and with some mechanical mechadendrites attached to his body. He was an augment?
Where are we?'' I asked calmly, and he almost reacted in fear except with nothing to push off on he only curled up in a ball.
`` What's going on with you, and who are you, did you stow away? `` I asked, now getting concerned as I pushed off and headed to the cockpit.
An unintelligible garble of words came from his body as I turned around.
`` The fuck did you just say? `` Knowing something was Definately wrong now, I shoved into the cockpit and he quickly raced behind me, shouting and yelling like a banshee. Reaching the cockpit I sealed him out and found one of the researches, dead. Donny had been a friend, for well over 10 years, what happened here? I thought.
I slowly took control of the cockpit, starting up the main reactor again, and everything slowly started to hum back to life. The core computer was also online, and I typed in the administrator passwords and got root access to the system.
`` Let's see.... `` I talked to myself, quickly rummaging through the computer's data system. Freaky elf guy was banging on the door, hitting it with his tiny fists, and was almost like a child. The computer was having a very difficult time calculating the date, and kept jumping back and forth like it was damaged, so that's no use.
Spinning up the engines, I pointed it towards earth, calculated distance was nearly 119Mega-Meters away, and should be a quick hop with the Light speed engine. Performing a fast and furious hop through the galaxy we arrived at the calculated coordinates of Earth as I looked down and rubbed my eyes.
Black.... Everything was Black. The landmasses were in roughly the same position, but the entire landmass was black as night. The oceans shined with a near fluorescent Purpleish/green hue and the rest was blanketed in a horrific blackish cloud.
What had happened, how long has it really been? I decided to let elf guy into the cockpit, grabbing a pistol from a holster I pointed it at him and he nodded, understanding what I meant.
He entered slowly, his body not the size of a large child, maybe 4'9 in total but the facial appearance of a full sized man. He sat in the cockpit next to me and clicked on a tablet attached to his arm for a few moments.
`` I apologize about my earlier speech, I was trying to reassure you however my translator got hit by the door and you damaged it temporarily. `` He said, buckling himself down in the chair.
I started to open my mouth to speak but he threw up a projector screen on the monitor in front and showed a few images.
`` You are my greatest discovery, ancient Mankind. `` He started flipping through a few images. `` I have read all about your experiments and the disaster that befell your craft, and I apologize but this is going to become a bit of a shock but it's not 30 days after what was planned for you. In fact, you were in space a great deal longer than anyone thought. It's been roughly 90,000 Human earth years since you were sent into your sleep. `` He started, giving a few graphs on the screen.
`` How...'' without finishing he began answering my questions.
`` Your craft was damaged, and a transmission Beacon was shot out of your craft, detected nearly 71 years after your launch earth time. It detailed that the craft had hit an unexpected band of interstellar radiation, and flown through a dust cloud. You were thrown off course and your craft went adrift, at near the speed of light. The main crew was unaffected by the shift but your pilot here, he was killed on impact with the monitor. The other 2 researchers stabilized the craft and basically made your ship a lifeboat for you and the rest of your fellow researches but without any way to slow down, no rescue could be mounted. We had to wait for your craft to slow down naturally while you orbited the sun. This was the first approach to the inner solar system your craft has made in nearly 40,000 years and it enabled us to catch up to you. ``
His words were so sincere they almost hurt, or was that the translator doing it for him. Either way, something tragic had happened, and im sure that they wanted to learn more about the events surrounding my survival just as I did.
`` Your other compatriots are also safe, they were taken aboard the vessel we navigated away from. I had remained behind to bring the ship back to our fleet and regain your collective research.'' He stopped, putting in some coordinates.
I can take you to them, here.
I only stared in wonder, hoping there was a shred of truth in his words.
|
[ WP ] In a parallel America , all expressions , metaphors , and figures of speech use synonyms instead of the phrasing we 're used to . Write an ordinary conversation between ordinary people , full of such sayings .
| Behold! The world of the dweller of the United States of America, or as the good citizens of this country like to call it, the `` Unified Kingdoms''. Here, we see two young men engaged in an ordinary conversation. Let us seek greater insight into their unique vernacular.
`` Cheerio, chap, are your testicles swaying well?''
`` Cheerio, Bartholomew, having sex with cherries. I am about to capture some zeds prior to the completely bonkers soiree at Agnes'''
`` Eeeeeexxxcccreement. She's quite the vulpine, just?''
`` You are but legumes if you think you can rucksack her.''
`` Gentlesir, go on a constitutional. Agnes is daft warm and I do believe she grabs the warmth for me, if you know what I am proposing.''
What an intriguing conversation! Who knows about what gritting subject they converse? After a scuttlebutt from our backers, we'll have a UK language expert help demystify this peculiar dialect.
|
[ WP ] Somehow , every single race in the universe at some point creates the game League of Legends . This comes as a surprise at the first intergalactic council .
| This should have been tool to unite all galaxy, but it just sparked new flame between races.
After 4 hours spent in lobby browsing endless list of skins from millions of different cultures around milky way, Lexa finally git into the game.
-Gosh, Sirius in nickname, he will pick fucking Zzuri and feed top until someone will accuse him of not being patriotic enough, then he will go afk.
But Lexa knew if it would dodge, he'll get sent to queue with even longer finding times.
-Great, latin is nowhere to be seen, just fucking logographs that get their `` click to understand'' option, but hey, I can read this poem, there are still 20 bans left. `` I'' `` had'' `` relationship'' `` with'' `` your'' `` mother''. Probably meant he banged her, but that is nothing new, glad I have `` go fuck yourself'' written in Saxu script under my ctrl + v, but knowing how Ritos from around the galaxy are oversensitive fuckboys, it will get replaced with something like `` go'' `` have good time'' `` you''. I still have emoji...
FUCK Urgot is banned, fuck you whichever Rito made my main meta. Fuck yall i dodge this shit, no more RP for those guys.
|
[ WP ] Write , or rewrite , a Ghost Story from the perspective of the ghost/monster/creature .
| `` Let'see.... $ 3.22 as promised.'' I counted as i slid the coins out into the dim rays of the pale blue night light.
His hand reached down and picked up the coins one by one off the floor, depositing them on his dresser beside the bed. `` Thank you Mr. Mahjo.''
`` I'll see you next month Timmy.'' I replied and crawled back to my box.
I fluffed my pillow cotton and pulled up my blanket made of dryer lint. I had paid my rent for this month and had another thirty days with a bed over my head. I tried to sleep but the worries about next month's rent ate at my psyche. There just were n't that many jobs around and my expensive education turned out to be worthless in today's economy. Timmy was a good landlord but even he would have to boot me out if i could n't pay up.
I thought about finding work with the rats. But ever since humans started storing their food in giant metal boxes of cold it was so much harder boring holes for the rats to get at them. Maybe i could go work at the local internet service provider. I heard I.T. paid very well these days and the gnomes were always looking for more monsters to cause glitches and lag. I did n't know a thing about computers though.
ah well. `` Get some sleep Mahjo, you can worry about this tomorrow'' i said to myself
|
[ WP ] Write about someone 's experience as they witness the death of someone they just met .
| My life sucks. I have no friends, I'm unemployed, homeless, you name it. Fact of the matter is I've kept this thing going long as I possibly could. But there comes a time in every man's life when you have to sit back, take account of your situation, and get ready to make some hard choices. Even if that means killing yourself.
So here I stand, on a shitty ass bridge over some random body of water turned putrid by runoff. Lovely setting. But somewhat fitting considering how much I fucked this up.
Well, no point standing around. Time to get this over with.
10, 9. 8. 765. No, went too fast. One more time.
10, 9. No, not feeling it. Am I having second thoughts? Why? I have everyone reason to jump off.
Fuck it. Get through this.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2- What the hell? Some guy's running full speed over here. Is he going to try to stop me? Stay the fuck away. I do n't want your symp-
And he just blew by me. What in fuck's name? Holy shit! He jumped!
Oooh. That was loud. Jeez it's ugly down there. I should find a better spot. I do n't deserve much, but I deserve more than that.
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[ WP ] Due to an address mix-up , an elementary school class sends their Pen Pal letters to an elite unit of Space Marines . Today , the Space Marines are sending a response .
| ~ Error code 99X43DVLL9
Error as follows:
Communication standards inadequate for super luminal communication. All bands scrubbed. Attempting to route through parallel reality strands...
Working...
Working...
Working... Viable strand locked and contained. Switching to parallel communication form... Message sent... ~
To: Amy Whinnie
From: Sgt. Darius Manchin
Imperial Terran Empire
[ Location Redacted ]
21/09/2601
Good tidings Amy, your letter has done much to make myself and my comrades smile. It also seems to have breathed new life into them as we all seem to have renewed our fight. For a moment, while reading, it was like there is no war... That humanity is n't on the brink of loss or that life is still so simple. It's been so long since I've seen that that I believe I may have forgotten what I was fighting for. I remember now.
I have to say that I am quite surprised by many things in receiving your letter. First is that it's is written on paper... Something that has n't been produced in centuries. Also that no one is quite sure how it arrived here. The third is that you speak of school like you are in a physical building surrounded by actual children... Even though that's impossible... At least, I thought it was.
Though I know you may not understand everything I am saying I want you to know this: thank you for a glimpse ( however brief ) of what we are fighting for. It has been 500 years since this war started and I feel as though it will never end... But thank you. Be safe, and glory to Terran
To: Sgt. Darius Manchin
From: Amy Whinnie
Atlanta, Ga
21/10/2101
Hi again mister. I'm not sure why you got my letter but my teacher says that it is really weird and it printed out like I set my letter to when it got there so maybe that's what happened. What's a Terran Empire? And what war? I asked daddy and he said that you were just pretending and then he asked me to show him the letter and got really white and got a funny look on his face and started calling people. I do n't know why. He told me to go to my room.
I wanted to talk more but there are loud alarms going off outside and bright flashes in the sky and the teachers are telling me I have to go to a shelter, whatever that is. I'll talk to you again soon and I'll -- -- --
~Error...
No further input found
Connection to strand has been lost...
Attempting to reestablish...
Working...
Working...
Working...
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[ WP ] Without saying the word love , you write the most passionate love letter you can imagine .
| Dear Little Lady,
Men are a curse upon the land that no natural calamity can fix. I, among such a low, unworthy species, share in this poor demeanor. I am sloppy, crude, crass, unreasonable, furious, and without a positive quality. I am a broken creature left to suffer with those who had wronged the universe in some forgotten and impossible way.
This is what I used to believe, before I stumbled into your presence. If men were a plague to be cast down upon the Earth, then it is with all my heart that I believe women were sent to fix such a mistake. Nothing holds the ability to tame man like that of a beautiful woman. I have witnessed men turn from the foulest of rabid beasts, to the most respectable, heaven blessed gift this galaxy could hope to see. Women have a way of taking darkness and spinning it into a thread blessed of purity.
For you, the most fetching of all women, I must admit that I have relinquished all control. My heart has not been my own since we first embraced, nor has my mind been in such a clear state as when I look upon thee. You have become my world, my home, and nothing would destroy me more than to have you lost in the oceans of man's destruction.
I am nothing without you. Please, return to me with the utmost haste.
Yours forever,
Lost Gentleman^013
|
`` This is 911 , we already know . Arm yourself and lock your doors . Good luck and God bless . '' [ TT ]
| So then, they were coming.
The woman thanked the policeman calmly and hung up the phone with her right hand. She ’ d always known this day might come. The government was required to explain the risks when you moved into a border town. She still had the pamphlet.
The war had begun casually, with light skirmishes here and there. They tended to happen late at night when everyone was drunk and under a lot of stress from work, *thank-you-very-much*. They were nothing to get dressed up for.
Then, as these things go, the idea of a conversation was broached. Terms needed to be established. Representatives from both sides were called together.
The ambassadors were both men, tall and thin. One wore wire-rim glasses and the other had a robotic arm. It was a newer model, although in this case all that meant was the arm ’ s plastic elbow was a dark green instead of grey.
The wire-rim glasses were all grey. An older model.
‘ What are we? ’ Asked Glasses, ‘ I need more than a border skirmish. I need a military engagement. ’
‘ I just got out of a revolution, ’ answered the Arm, ‘ I ’ m not sure if I ’ m ready to go to war again. ’
Glasses looked at him patiently. He understood; he ’ d been through a revolution as well. But still, his country was scared. He shifted in his chair, watching the other man ’ s metal fingers click-click-clicking on top of the table between them.
‘ People are… Uncomfortable. They want to know you don ’ t have all the power. ’
‘ ’ I like what we have and I don ’ t want to lose it, but I also like the freedom I have. Perhaps if we kept what we had but I gave you so benefits— ’
Glasses cut him off quickly. ‘ You know that won ’ t work. We are, ah, traditional about those things. ’
They both sat and they both thought and they both didn ’ t say anything.
The Arm spoke again. ‘ We could try a cold war? ’
So that ’ s what they did, and it even worked for a while. Both countries had settled into simple rhythms full of rote maneuvers designed by both sides to show their respective populace that they had the upper hand.
But the fear and the tension never left, and now they were coming.
Arm yourself, that ’ s what the police said. That ’ s probably all she had time for. They would be crossing the river within minutes.
She padded quickly down a tile hallway and opened the door to her bedroom. A left arm whirred and clicked quietly to itself as it charged on the bed. The technology had progressed a lot in the decades since the cold war had started.
This model had a yellow elbow.
The first bionic prostheses had been simple things, mechanical things, *useless* things. But then the devices had gotten good, better, best and the robotic revolution had come.
Originally that had been a pithy name for the quick-moving technology scene, but it would come to refer to a whole host of bloody battles.
At some point, the prosthetics had become more useful than more traditional, biological options. People with two arms ( or legs, or eyes, or ears ) started to get jealous.
‘ Why should someone get rewarded with a better arm just because they were careless with their last one? ’ They said.
Some of those jealous people quickly went off and did something careless to their own limbs, but a few of the more small-minded mutterers were petty: they banned all bionic prostheses. Even for the people who needed them.
When the dust had settled, the prosthetics were outlawed and the population had been halved. A lot of the population had been lost in the glorious revolution, yes, but a lot seemed to be slipping into neighboring countries where they could live a brighter, shinier, more metallic life.
In theory, this meant everyone got what they wanted: bionics were outlawed in the motherland, but immigration was simple. And yet, and yet…
Her arm was slung up and attached to her body. It slid comfortably into place, beeping excitedly.
They were coming. Good, she was armed and dangerous.
|
[ MP ] Coldplay - Viva La Vida
| I was a King. Power. Money. Infulence.
But it's all gone. All of it. And soon enough, so will I be.
-- -
I did everything I could for my people. Food, water, supplies... I wanted them to not suffer. I wanted them to be prosperous. For after all, a King is nothing without a Kingdom, and His Loyal Subjects to do the work that needs doing. If they are not satisfied... the Kingdom falls.
I could n't let that happen.
During my reign, it became clear that resources were being stretched, and it was with some reluctance I had to make a decision. Gamble, if you will, on an agreement with the neighboring Kingdom. Their crops were legendary, and was rumored they simply burned their excess. Why not use it for good than waste?
The mistake was made. I lost the'bet', and I did n't even know it yet.
Oh, at first, Ilfindor decided to supply us, and we gave them in return the value they requested, which was simple enough, some troops to help their policing efforts to prevent raiders from stealing or damaging the crops.
For a time, this was acceptable. But the men sent did n't come back... and then they wanted more men... I sent more... and more...
Soon, I had no men to give.
And then the supplies stopped.
I had no Subjects to work the land, and My People started to suffer... and blamed me for it, naturally. I was their King, and they hated me.
Not long after the rumblings and outright cries of protest started, Ilfindor invaded... with the very men I'd sent away, no less, among the troops.
We were quickly subdued, to say the least. My Kingdom fell. My way of life, over. The people were more than happy to see me in shackles, so grateful my rule was over. Turncoats, but could one really blame them?
Little had I known that admitting supply problems, and then being so naive as to befrend another Kindgom in desire to see my people fed, one that we had had good rapport with, would embolden them to emaciate and then invade, to take the land I held...
Well. I deserve my fate. I see this clearly. My Subjects once thought of me as wise and benevolent, providing and fair. Now, they see me as the incompetent mess I suppose I am. I hope they happier without me than they were with me these past years.
The guillotine awaits. Appeasement for their suffering, I estimate. I am ready. Perhaps they'll be satiated with my head upon a silver plate.
I never wanted to be King anyway.
|
[ wp ] In a. world obsessed with recycling and environmental impact throwing things away is forbidden unless it 's completely worn out and irreparable . You just inherited your Grandads house . He was an extreme hoarder .
| `` Mornin' Bill.'' He nodded as I sipped my cup of coffee.
`` Mornin' Frank.'' I smiled at him as I dug into my pocket for my cigarettes. `` What've ya got for me today?''
`` The City council held a special session last night. They've updated the community rules on yard sales.''
I took another sip. `` Oh? Do tell.''
Frank nodded. `` Yard sales are now to be confined to weekend days only, unless a special permit is granted. Weekend days being defined as Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and on special holiday occasions sometimes Mondays. Yard sales are also prohibited from exceeding 4 days, again unless a special permit is granted. This new rule will take effect in 15 days on the first of next month.''
I nodded again. `` Well, I'll just have to do something about that, wo n't I?''
Frank grumbled. `` Yeah, Bill, I guess you will. I know this is a harsh problem to get stuck with, but setting all this crap out here makes for an eye sore, ya know?'' He spread his right arm to encompass all the junk laid out around the lawn.
`` Better that I should have it all taking up space inside that house? I've said before, that if the city would be willing to make a special exception to The Stein Initiative, it would solve this whole thing.''
He snorted and glared `` And I've said I do n't disagree with you, but I do n't make the rules. Anyway, here's the official notification, so get on top of this.''
Taking the envelope, I nodded. `` Will do buddy. I'll have this sorted as soon as I can.''
*********************
A week and half later when Frank came by to check on my progress, the look on his face was more glarey than ever. `` Bill, not only have you not done anything to clear this crap out, but I'm pretty there's stuff out here that was n't here the last time I came'round.''
Trying my best not to smile, I handed him an envelope `` Actually, I have done something. As of last week, this is no longer a yard sale, it's a performing art installation known as'The Long Offering'. The state art council has approved it.''
Bill pulled out the letter and read over it. `` This... is an approval of an application started two months ago... which means... hmm.''
He glared at me again with renewed ire. `` You are a clever bastard. Really sharp witted. Just be careful that you do n't get so sharp you cut yourself.'' He handed me the letter back and walked back over to his car.
|
[ WP ] Go to Wikipedia , click random article , and write a story inspired by/about where it takes you .
| My lungs were further starved as the thin air above the ebbing grass and her flowing hair took shelter within me. I would remember her hair as the matted gold of dying grass that surrounded the blanket beneath us, but as the sunlight brought with it to my eyes the color of her cheek—at that moment and never again—I saw a shade more similar to the innocent white of the clouds above us. The paleness that crashed against her dark freckles was a new sight to the sun; the rays of light burned my retinas with a more excited flair than their normally objective delivery.
Twenty six, I counted. At least from the side I could see. Flat stones stacked in remembrance of something passed. I had only looked away to follow the purples of her negative existence that snuck into the layers between my blue-green irises and the rusty-gold landscape before me. As she faded back into the space behind me, the cold gray of the rocks almost kept my eyes ’ interest with the dullness so rare in the otherwise abundant beauty enveloping it. But then her voice. Oh, her voice pulled me back beyond the worlds of my familiarity, and when the winds of moving through stillness calmed, I awoke to the simple land of hills, grass, clouds, and her.
http: //en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hugh_Seat
|
[ WP ] A drug has been outlawed decades ago that has a fifty-fifty shot at making you incredibly intelligent , or completely insane . You hold the last pill in existence .
| I paced my room, back and forth, thousands of times staring at the cupboard. I knew it was in there, I could almost feel it's presence beating at my senses, calling to me. I needed help, I needed to improve, to get out of the shitty situation I'd got myself into, if only I could think of another way.
Poverty is hard, escaping it even harder, and even at my best I'd never quite managed to pull myself out of the dirt I was born into.
I could see the sun shifting behind the threadbare curtains, small beams of light blasting through into my tiny room, one filthy toilet illuminated by one beam, my soiled mattress by another. I had to get out. I forced myself towards my door and pushed against it to no avail.
`` Why is it locked?''
A whisper echoed through the room. `` You're trapped.''
There's nothing else for it, I'll have to take it, I need to get out.
I drag my feet, walking towards the cupboard where it sat. `` What if it does n't help? What if it makes me worse?''
I pull open the door, pull out what little I own to close my hands on a dusty bottle. Immediately I know something is wrong, the bottle did n't make a sound as it moved. I turn around and everything is white, padded, my bed is gone, everything is gone. A small sob escapes my lips as I realise what happened.
It did n't help.
Never posted here before and have n't written anything for years, apologies for any tenses slipping etc, wrote this on my break at work so no time to double check it.
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy!
|
[ WP ] A man slowly comes to realize that his imaginary friend is the one that actually exists .
| Typing up big papers for college is an arduous task. However, I'm getting the hang out of it. Make an outline, look for sources, and try not to take too many breaks until it's finished. This is what I do in my dorm after class, just typing away on a keyboard until my hands become a blurred motion. My concentration is broken in the silence by a unwelcoming, low-pitched voice from someone entering my room.
`` Working hard this afternoon, eh?'' My roommate's face peeks out at the computer screen, knocking into my left cheek.
`` Of course. Now, if you do n't mind, I like it quiet when I work.'' I respond with some restraint. It's hard to not get mad at someone who does n't respect personal space.
`` Yes, yes. We all do, do n't we? Peace and quiet amidst the chaos in the mundane, busy lives we all have.'' He takes a sip of a beer can he's holding and gives a happy whistle. `` I'm just hoping for some quick conversation to get my mood up.''
`` Well, what do you have on your mind?'' I say. Giving into his annoying quirks and attitude, I'm hoping it'll be enough to satisfy him and maybe quickly return to my task at hand.
He furrows his brows and looks straight at me. `` I'm just wondering if you think you're actually typing anything.''
`` Well, of course I am. Do n't question my diligence. I'm trying to write a paper.'' I glance sideways at him. `` Unlike you, I take my studies seriously.''
`` Huh. I think you'll a bit confused, pal. Take a look at the screen. What have you been typing so far?''
I shake my head in amusement until I took a look at the computer monitor. It is n't even on, dammit.
`` Damn computer must have shut down on me. How did this happen? Did you pull the plug?'' I turned angrily at my roommate.
`` What are you yelling on about? It was never on in the first place. Here, I'll even turn it on for you so you can finish it. Now, if you do n't mind, I'm going to sleep. I got a paper due tomorrow and I like to have my imagination write it for me in my head while I'm sleeping.''
He collapses on the bed, fully-clothed, and in no time at all, starts snoring.
I roll my eyes and I go back to work. I sigh. This room is supposed to be a single.
|
[ WP ] Cryosleep is invented and is now affordable . People line up to be put to sleep and wake up in 100 million years . The time comes and everyone wakes up to see all the future technologies that humans made , but they forgot that scientists went into cryosleep too . The earth is now very different .
| Eric's quick pace through the hallway was met with with a near collision. Dr. Jean-Michele Navier stepping out of his glass door office. `` Eric... why the rush?'' `` Sorry Dr. Navier, the new orientation class is waiting in the theater and...'' The young facilities director immediately knew better than to finish that sentence as he has previously seen the thin-bearded familiar expression. A low-tone Gong from the French Physicist's elbow bouncing off the glass door began to fade. The hurried director pulled his tie around and near silently continued down the hall.
`` Dr. Navier... glad you're here...'' `` I just posted the list of the next group of candidates'', `` have you reviewed the list yet?'' No one could be as candid with the thin-bearded pedantic leader as the Brit colleague Dr. Allyson Freh. Attractive as intelligent, she was insanely smart. Her parents stopped bothering with IQ tests at the age of 11, there was really no point. At 19, MIT legend has it that more than one professor frequently kicked everyone out of the classroom, just so they could spend time one-on-one. Some said its because of her looks, but it would be impossible to ignore her brilliance.
`` Dr. Navier??...'' `` Yes! I uh.., I noticed your name on the list Dr. Freh'' `` Are you sure this is the best timing?'' `` I'd prefer to observe the Anthropic Models and support Algorithms through at least two more cycles'' `` I do n't like it, I need more time''
Navier retreating back into his office and flipped open his journal. Dr. Freh with a puzzled at the awkward end of the conversation, stood watching Navier pen notes in a crisp new personal journal.
Journal entry September 18, 2024: Dr. Allyson Freh from the research team is insisting again to join the next cycle. If I could only share what an opportunity this is to remain behind as the other scientists rush to enter the final rounds of the Cyro-stasis cycles. I wish I could share with her my future vision. With our combined knowledge and with all obstruction out of our way... can we even imagine
Eric reaches the orientation theater and the door swings open...
|
[ IP ] The Forbidden Pages ...
| I crept down the stairs of the old house, wincing every time the old boards creaked beneath my tread. My uncle was fast asleep, but I knew that he did n't sleep heavily. What if he heard the noise and woke up?
Finally, after what felt like ages of moving with excruciating slowness, I reached the bottom of the stairs. I slipped a hand into the pocket of my pajama bottoms, curled my fingers around the brass key that lay inside.
The door to the library, seven feet tall, loomed in front of me. I looked up at it with trepidation, wondering how much trouble I risked getting myself into. After all, my uncle never failed to remind me, on each visit to his house, that the library was off limits. He kept it locked for a reason, he insisted, even if he never divulged that reason to me.
During the first few summers when I visited him, the question of what lay behind the library door never became much of an issue. The old, mouldering Victorian mansion where my uncle lived had many other secrets to uncover, and I delighted in ferreting them out.
I found the secret passages inside the walls, the ones that my uncle claimed had been used by servants to ferry meals to the lord and lady who once lived here. I discovered how to operate the dumbwaiter from inside the box, a little hand-controlled elevator to carry me up and down between the first and second floor. I even ventured into the attic, peering into dusty boxes left over from many years before - up until a bat swooped down on me, sending me running back to safety, shrieking my head off.
But I'd never ventured into the library. My uncle kept the door to that room securely locked, and I'd never found a passage leading inside.
I might never have thought about it at all, had I not uncovered the key. I found it in the back of the huge apothecary desk in the living room, taped to the backside of the drawer. One of the little drawers had been stuck, so I pulled it as hard as possible, yanking it all the way out. When I went to slide it back into place, I spotted the gleam of the brass key, hidden inside the back of the huge, hulking desk.
The key was made from ornately worked brass, with a large `` L'' engraved on the handle. I knew immediately what door it must open.
I had spent the last twelve hours in tortured uncertainty, debating whether to dare breach the trust my uncle instilled in me. But finally, my ten-year-old sense of curiosity overwhelmed my reluctance, and I crept out of bed and padded down to the library door.
The key fit smoothly into the keyhole, and I heard something click inside the door when I turned it. I withdrew the key and, my heart thumping so loudly in my throat that I could scarcely hear anything else, I reached out and laid my hand on the knob.
It turned. The door, heavy and sticking a little from humidity, finally gave way and opened outward. I slipped inside.
Darkness on the other side of the door overwhelmed me. My pounding heart grew even quicker, and I nearly panicked when my scrabbling fingers failed to find a light switch on the wall. It was too dark! I needed to leave!
I ducked out into the hallway once again, my heart still threatening to explode inside my chest. But the familiar hallway gave me strength, and I swore that I would n't be defeated so easily. My uncle kept a flashlight in a drawer in the kitchen. It was the work of a moment to duck across the hall and retrieve it.
Now armed with my beam of light, I once again entered the library. I panned the flashlight around, taking in the shadowed interior. It looked...
... well, it looked like a typical library. I saw tall shelves rising up to the high, vaulted ceiling, covered in leather-bound volumes. A rail ran along the top of the bookshelves, and I found a ladder connected to it, on wheels so that it could slide along the shelves. A dark fireplace stood against one wall, and several old-looking leather armchairs and end tables stood scattered around the room.
I frowned, feeling a little let down. This was the forbidden library that my uncle did n't want me to see? What was wrong with it?
The flashlight slipped a little in my fingers, dropping to aim its beam at the floor - but my eyes caught a faint glow still lingering above, up on the mantle of the fireplace. I frowned, brought the light back up, but saw nothing there. Had my eyes been playing tricks on me?
Curious, I slid my finger to the switch on the flashlight. After a glance over my shoulder, ensuring that the door still stood ajar so that I could make a quick escape if necessary, I flipped the switch. The beam turned off, drowning me in darkness.
But the darkness was only absolute for an instant. That glow returned, ever so faint but growing brighter as my eyes adjusted, a few inches above the center of the fireplace mantle. And as I watched, it swelled outward as a new shape appeared, gauzy and ephemeral, floating in the air.
The shape of a face...
|
[ WP ] Write something with a twist that I really should 've seen coming
| Andrew opened his eyes. Again. He got up, and shuffled into his work pants, again. He'd had that dream again. He'd dreamt about how it was raining ash, like all his dreams, and he was walking to the bus stop to suffer through another work day. His muscles screamed at him from under his skin, telling him to turn around, go back, make a different choice. Telling him it how it did n't have to be like that.
But he could n't do anything but step towards tedium, trudging through the street to the place that made him wish he was a child again.
And then it came.
In a burst of colour, this ridiculous open topped tour bus with weird crusty do-nothings on the top floor shouting `` Andrew! ``, flower-girls beckoning excitedly, throwing him a rope ladder. And like always, he reached, and the last rung of the ladder grazed him, and slipped right through his fingers. Again.
Snowing again, he noted. Great. That's great. His trudge began through the off-white slush, as he marched towards tedium once again. He got to the bus stop...
And then it came.
A burst of light. Wheels through ash, and his veins could hardly hold his blood as he turned, and saw it.
It was the bus! No, not *that* bus. The bus to work. Andrew got on the bus, handed over high hopes and small change, and went to work for forty years.
Edit: `` Work job'', former me? Really?
|
[ WP ] A government airplane with important documents crashed in Idaho . To increase likelihood of finding the airplane , the media has falsely informed the American public into thinking the airplane had thousands of pounds of illegal drugs .
| It's hard to find anything when its under a fat layer of snow. Remnants of airplanes are no exception.
Jacklyn knows this, from personal experience. She's gotten good at finding things. Finding the remote when the couch swallows it up. Finding her dog after being lost for days on end. Finding out her drug dealer had been shorting her; and with quick indignation and some help from her boyfriend, Toby, finding how easy it was to dispose of a body. But, that's why there were *here*, knee deep in a sea of slush. Looking for the greatest find of all time.
A head pops from the snow, like a freshly grown daisy. Ice has frozen to the tips of Toby's beard.
`` You dip. It's not gon na be under there.''
`` Found something.''
Toby holds up a mittened hand. Long, concealed fingers have clinged to a piece of shrapnel, shiny and bright. It's not enough to convince Jacklyn, but then he pulls out another piece. Then another.
`` We got ta be close, Jackie.''
They travel southward, trudging along, for another quarter mile before they spot it. A gleaming plane, torn to bits, sinking into the snow. Just sitting here. All for her taking. Jacklyn and Toby pick up the pace, tearing through the snowfall just to have a look at the horde of drugs, all for them.
As they get closer, they come to a startling conclusion: The horde of drugs does not exist.
`` Start digging.'' Jacklyn commands Toby, and he pulls out a collapse-able shovel from his pack. `` There's no way that someone else has gotten to this place, I mean, Jesus! We're 5 miles out in the wilderness!''
Jacklyn herself fumbles with her cellphone, to turn on the flashlight. The plane had scattered its insides about, but a few things seemed to remain intact. Astray seating and lights must be stepped over. Near the cockpit, there's an enclosed plastic box frozen to the carpet. Perhaps the drugs were in here?
The impatient girls rips the lid off, and her hopes drop. Not a single ounce of weed. It's just plain vanilla folders, holding useless documents. She bends over to take one, to rip it up. It's only then when Jacklyn notices a large red CLASSIFIED printed across the folders. Opening one, she reads it. When she does n't believe a word, she reads it again.
`` Tobs. Come here?''
Toby reads it, as well. `` No shit,'' He says.
`` Yeah, shit. I think we have something bigger than drugs here.''
|
[ WP ] On the day you turn 18 everyone is given the first words that their soulmate will speak to them . When you receive yours it says simply `` Welcome to Starbucks . Can I take your order ? ''
| `` I really do n't know what your problem is. This is probably the best thing that could have happened to you'', Tom chirped happily and sipped his Frappucino.
I eyed him sceptically. `` And what in God's name would make you think that?''
He put down his drink. `` Just look at what this tells statement tells you! Now you know that she works at Starbucks.''
`` Great, really helpful. Cause there are only what, ten thousand of them in the world?'' That came out a little more biting than I had planned. Luckily, ever-so-cheerful Tom did n't care. He just continued his speech. `` You see, that's the good thing! You do n't even have to search all of them! Only the ones in English-speaking countries. That narrows it down. Also notice how she does n't say `` Hello'' or anything. She's not having a good day. Chances are she works in a big city and is under constant stress.''
`` And what if she works somewhere out in the middle of nowhere and just happens to have a bad day because her dog died?''
`` Unlikely. I'd start checking the big cities.'' He took another gulp of his Frappucino.
I frowned. `` That is going to take a long time.''
Tomm rolled his eyes. `` Do n't you complain about that. You know what my first words are?'' He had lost his cheerful tone.
I was n't quite sure how to react to the sudden change in his voice. `` What are they?''
`` Watch out, Jerk! What are you, ten?''
`` Ouch...''
`` Yea...''
For a moment we both just sipped our drinks.
Finally the awkward silence became too uncomfortable. `` So... I just walk into every Starbucks and order a drink?''
`` Do n't even have to order a drink. Just ask for directions or something. And most importantly, say something unusual.''
`` Why unusual?''
`` So she recognises you as her soulmate! She will know your words. If you just say `` One Cappuccino please'' you might meet her without realising it.''
`` But... What if I say the wrong thing?''
He winked. `` That's the cool thing, you ca n't''
`` I see... This really is n't as bad as I thought.'' Finally I was able to smile. My cup was almost empty. I downed the last mouthful of my lukewarm coffee. `` I'll get another one. Can I bring you anything?''
Tom shook his head.
`` Alright then.'' I looked over to the counter. I spotted a barista I had n't seen before and got up. Behind me, I heard Tom whisper. `` Remember, unusual!''
I walked up to the counter. Finally, it was my turn. I could feel my heart thumping hectically in my chest. She looked at me with not particularly friendly eyes. `` Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?''
|
[ WP ] Alone one day in your living room your SO falls asleep . S/he never awakes , everyone you then encounter falls asleep shortly and never wakes .
| It's been two days.
I knew my girlfriend was stressed from her over demanding job. The amount of real life she sees everyday is astonishing. CPS is not a field you get into without a love for the cause, not the causation.
The first night was annoying, but understandable. She promised it would be a quick nap, her first Friday off in two months without mandatory overtime the next day was a cause for celebration. She feel asleep on my lap while we were watching the news.
I slowly finished my six-pack, every twenty min or so I would try and wake her. She would breathe out a heavy sigh each time, I began to read that as a `` Get away from me!'' I passed out in my bed and slept late. It was my first vacation day since we went to the Bahamas two months ago.
When she was still asleep, I prepared a light breakfast. The smell of a frying strip of bacon would win her over, I thought. My voice raised slowly when she did n't stir.
`` baby...''
`` Babe.''
`` SWEETHEART!''
I heard that sigh and a snore, cursed under my breath, and finished cooking the eggs.
When the EMT fell asleep on my couch the rage inside me had boiled over. I kicked that motherfucker so many times in the head that he would surely die. But after each kick, I would just hear that sigh. It became a challenge after the ninth kick to the temple I knew I would snuff it out soon. After each devastating blow it just taunted me more.
`` EhHaaaa''
It's been nine days.
Working on part two....
|
[ WP ] Everyone has a personal demon that follows them everywhere and urges them to do evil deeds . You are so evil that your demon begs you to be good .
| **Somewhat NSFW**
I washed my hands underneath the stream of cold water.
`` Cold, not warm, for blood~'' I hummed as I dried my hands, `` Cold, not warm, for blood~''
*Why are you doing this? *
I frowned as I walked back to my room.
`` You know perfectly well why,'' I muttered, `` It's because I love her.''
I opened the door and saw Cindy stare at me with hungry eyes. She was naked and reeked of sweat and other bodily fluids. Her neck-chain still fastened tightly to the wall
`` P-please,'' she moaned, `` N-no more.''
Her posture grimaced in pain as I let out a chuckle.
*You're sick. *
`` No, I'm not.'' I whispered to nobody in particular.
*You chained her and made her your sex slave. *
`` I'm feeding her and keeping her alive.''
*She's better off dead. *
`` STOP IT!'' I yelled as I grabbed at my head, `` FUCK!''
Cindy was silent for a minute as I calmed myself down.
`` W-who was that at the door?''
`` Oh, the door?'' I had nearly forgotten about the blood, `` It was a nosy detective. He was looking at places he was n't supposed to so I got rid of him.''
Cindy's eyes opened in horror.
`` You're a monster.''
I quickly stripped down and giggled.
`` My demon thinks so too.''
**God, I'm a dark person. I need to go frolic in a field somewhere. **
|
[ WP ] Write about a person
| This is a man named Richard, full name: Richard Richard.
Richard Richard is not a very interesting man, in fact he is especially interestingly uninteresting.
He does his job at a cubicle in an office building in the most dank corner of the city. He does not do his job especially well; he also does not do his job especially terribly. He has developed his mediocrity well here. Most of the time he is browsing internet pages such as Reddit, or Facebook. The other time he is playing games on his Excel sheet and makes it look like work. The rest of the time is spent catching up on work.
Richard Richard's work is not very difficult. All he has to do is put papers here, and put papers there, say hello to the boss, and count the hours till the end of the day. Once again, he excels in mediocrity.
But what is this? Richard Richard has gotten up. He is staring at the window. How unlike Richard Richard. He is looking at the view from his high precipice, I wonder what his plain mind is thinking.
It seems that Richard Richard knows how to open the window, and it seems that he knows how to go through an open window. Oh! It seems that he is very unable to miss the ground while free flying.
It appears to me that Richard Richard may have had a bit more than meets the eye. Oh dear.
|
[ WP ] Your roommate refused to do the dishes while you were away for a month . The pile of dirty plates looks up at you and says 'Mama ! '
| It was raining. Well that was being gracious, it was more like the sky opened up and decided to piss on me. My mood matched the weather, which was gloomy and ragged. I was not yet used to the rain after coming home from my month long vacation in Africa. They went through a month long drought which proved to me even more how helpless those people were. As I stood fumbling my keys I could smell something stank. `` The garbage man must be late'' I said to my self as I found the right key. As I walked in nothing seemed out of place, Netflix was still playing house of cards a favorite show of my roommate. The smell was worse though, I could not figure out why. I smirked as I recalled what it reminded me of. It reminded me of the hive mind that was reddit. I followed the smell to the kitchen, where I saw the biggest pile of dishes no mortal man could fathom. `` Linda must not have done the dishes'' I thought to my self. As I was going to go find that worthless cunt it spoke to me. Like in beauty and the fucking beast they talked. `` Mama'' they said. I thought man eating lions were the worst a man could face. `` Mama mama mama'' they kept saying. It was clear something had to be done. I ran out of the kitchen to Linda's door. I cracked it open preparing to jump her ass over what was in the kitchen, but as I did I saw her naked on the bed with her favorite vibrator masturbating. `` God I would love to join in'' I thought to my self. Then I thought of the dishes. `` No time to satisfy my lust right now'' I said softly. I opened the door completely and rush up to linda. I grabbed her arm, vibrator still half in her and took her to the dishes. They repeated the same word `` mama''. She was shocked. `` How did this happen'' I asked her. `` I do n't know Mr wizard'' she said picking up the vibrator that fell out. I was mad. This was to much for me. `` Im moving out, this time you have proved just how much of a lazy bitch you are''. She slapped me weeping. I left and contacted our landlord. That night I was gone. Just another drifter. I heard linda was evicted. Which is what I wanted all along. Before leaving I cursed the dishes, and did n't remember until I dragged her out. Next time she will think twice about being lazy around a wizard. Oh and the dishes? I heard they shipped them off to area 51 to be examined. This is my story.
|
[ WP ] Your child and you go to a toy store so he can spend his allowance , he purchases one of those cheesy 8 ball fortune teller things . Later on you jokingly ask it a personal question and it responds with something that is n't on the dice inside the 8 ball .
| `` Come on Ben, pick a toy, we need to get going.''
`` Dada, ish un?'' He held a magic eight ball over his head and simultaneously pointed at it.
`` Oh, yeah, a magic eight ball, great...''
After we arrived home and Ben played with the magic eight ball for a couple hours, even though he could n't yet read, it was now bedtime. As I was putting him to bed, I could n't help but feel that little nostalgia pang and decided to ask the little magic eight ball a question, just for kicks and giggles.
`` Does Sarah Jones still have a crush on me?''
And I shook it like a little kid again.
`` No, she hates you.''
What... that's not a normal answer. So I shook it again.
`` Everyone hates you.''
I shook it over and over again.
`` No, he hates you.''
`` You will surely die.''
`` You're ugly.''
And many more in similar fashion.
After getting a split-second nasty feeling in my stomach that this was some demon voodoo, magic eight ball sent to haunt my child, I realized some asshole at the factory probably thought it would be a great joke to play on some kid. So I threw it away. I guess I have to buy him another tomorrow. Just one more thing I have to review before I let my child touch it.
|
A Heist Gone Wrong
| The water was shallow; the monsoon season had passed.
It was surprising that this amount of blood was not enough to stain all of the water red. Further down, the red was barely discernible anymore. Dissolved, diluted, absorbed.
His mask lay hanging around his neck, fastened in place by cheap nylon strings. It was a fitting reflection of his lifeless face which hung limply on his neck now. He did n't really have a choice to be that- a beaver. He did n't want to go, he did n't want to choose but we needed the last guy; we needed the beaver. His brother donned his mask on for him, adjusting it over his face as he said `` now the girls will go for you.'' I could n't remember if he was laughing beneath the acrylic mask.
I remembered though, his eyes widening in shock as he got shot. I could see them even now because he was looking right at me, half his body dangling outside the car. What a shame. The brothers were my favorite.
The others were gone. Those who made it out would have been gone by now, if they had any sense in them. I would have gone on my way as well, dumped him somewhere quiet enough so that when he was finally discovered he would have been dead. That was the problem, he was n't dead.
He was not even old enough to know life, and yet he was now on the fast track to death. As he looked at me in fear, asking for his brother, the last decent bit in me felt the obligation to stay.
I did n't bother telling him `` it's ok''. For the past few hours, I had been rambling on about nothing and everything in particular, hoping that my voice would somehow suffice as his only companion into the darkness.
He did n't chuckle, but the few times I looked over, I saw that he tried to smile. He tried, but the silence in between the cars going by overhead made the gurgling of his blood too audible.
It took awhile, and he did n't even try anymore. Not when I told him about the time his brother puked into a prom queen's mouth, nor the time we almost got our asses kicked by this old redneck.
He was saving his last bits to tell me something. I sat up and shifted him, laid his head in my lap.
`` Jung... this sucks.''
I nodded.
`` Take it.''
A car zoomed by above us.
`` Take it, please.''
He shoved something in my hand. It was as if this simple act itself drained him of all his last bits of life, and he rested his eyes forever thereafter.
I opened my palm and found a crumpled piece of paper. A message read and re-read till there were too many folds for a small piece of paper like this.
The ink had been washed out by these few hours of submersion.
What a shame.
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[ WP ] A story about time travel ; `` We ca n't take her with us . ''
| `` What do you mean we ca n't take her with us?!'' I yelled
`` I told you, she's infected with the bubonic plague and I'm not bringing her back. Who knows what kind of damage that would do in our current society.'' Replied Tommy
We had gone back to the 1700s to see what life used to be like, back when things were simpler. We had brought only a few people who wished to see what it was like. There was myself, Amanda, and Tommy. Everyone else preferred to stay back. The time machine we had was one of the simpler models and did n't give warnings. We had arrived at the peak heights of the bubonic plague. While Tommy and myself were discussing what are next plan of action was, Amanda had wandered off. When we found her she was laying on the ground with a bleeding bite mark on her hand.
`` I'm sure we have the medicene to treat her.'' I said
`` We do n't Markus! The black plague died out and we had no reason to have a cure around for it!'' Tommy replied
We decided it was time to bring Amanda back to our time since it seemed too dangerous for her. Before we used the time machine we each had to be scanned to make sure we did n't bring back any diseases. Tommy and I both passed but the buzzer had gone off on Amanda. Tommy's face had lost it's color and he looked like he would be sick.
`` But she's your daughter! Does that not mean anything!'' I screamed
`` Do you think I do n't know that!'' Tommy yelled back through tears
Tommy composed himself and walked over to Amanda who had been watching us argue the whole time. She did n't understand what was happening or why we would have to leave her. It was a choice between leaving her or having her killed when we got back home.
`` Amanda, sweetie. I need you to stand here for a few minutes ok?'' Tommy said with tears in his eye
`` Ok Daddy!'' Amanda said with a smile on her face
Tommy grabbed my hand and begun to walk away from Amanda. Tears had begun to stream down his face. We stood on the teleporter and prepared to transport. Tommy looked up and said `` Goodbye.'' right before we teleported. The whole time we had discovered she had the disease all I could think of was one thing. How is he going to explain this to his wife?
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[ IP ] Lifeline
| There was nothing mission control could do. He knew that. But he had hoped that they could do something, anything. They would pull a rabbit out of their magic hat.
There was a spare rocket ready just for situations like these.
The orbiter had secret thrusters to take off and land as it pleased.
Anything.
The speakers burst into static, signalling another message from Earth.
`` I am sorry Al. There is absolutely nothing we can do.''
Al had known that. Mission control had known that. Since day One. But there was a little hope, they had told him and he had clung to it, against all reason.
Hope was a powerful thing.
But it was a feeling. Like bliss, like sorrow. Feelings were overwhelmingly powerful but fickle. One moment there was hope, the next, despair. He had clung onto his hope like a child throwing a tantrum. He had refused to let it go.
With each passing day, reason slowly took over. It lulled him into seeing the truth.
Hope had given way to rage, at himself, at mission control. That too, did not last for long.
With each passing day, he felt his humanity being stripped away.
With each passing day, he bared more of his soul. He did not care who listened or who did not. He would speak into the mic for hours on end. He knew that there would be people listening in Houston. He did not care.
He would die. He knew that. What remained was to come to terms with it.
That single purpose consumed him. He searched for inner peace. He wanted to embrace death with a smile.
Each passing day, he grew weaker, yet his will grew stronger. He fed off it.
A lesser man would have long succumbed. To despair and death.
He spoke constantly into the mic. Sometimes philosophical, sometimes raving mad. He spoke nonetheless.
It had slowly become a part of his being. He no longer did it consciously. He no longer had to put effort into it.
He knew will would only take him so far. He knew his time grew short. Yet the goal seemed so elusive, so distant.
He spoke of his fears, his hopes. But most importantly, he spoke of death. Would there be an afterlife? Would there be a god? He spoke of these for a long time. He did not know the answers to any of these questions. Yet he spoke his mind. He spoke his doubts, his fears.
He spoke his soul.
Day 377
No one understood how he could have survived so long. Would mission control have done something differently if they had known he would have survived this long? Would there still have been hope of survival if they had started preparing a new craft since Day 1?
Unanswered questions.
But none of these mattered to The Voice from the Stars. That was what they called him on Earth.
It was weak now, The Voice from the Stars, barely a whisper every now and then.
He was no closer now than he had been when he had set out soul searching.
`` So far….'' he would say sometimes, out of the blue.
Al lay on the rocky surface, too tired to even sit up. He knew he could no longer hold on. He knew that he would not find the answer.
Day 392
He could no longer think coherently. He could no longer make sense of what he thought. He was so terribly tired. He felt no anger or frustration. Only disappointment and sadness.
What a glorious thing it would have been had he found peace. But he had made his peace with the fact that he would not find the answer.
He sighed, a sigh long due, as he looked at the sky. Really looked for the first time since he had been stranded here.
Had it always been so beautiful? Had it always been so welcoming?
Why had he never noticed it before this?
Questions, unanswered, inexplicable.
It did not matter though. Nothing else mattered. The sky and the stars. He was amongst them. He was there and so were the tiny sparks of light.
He existed. He lived, for the moment. And that was all that mattered. Death would come. But it was not now.
He smiled, for the first time in 392 days.
`` I wish you could see this'' he said.
Those were the last words The Voice from the Stars had spoken.
There had never been another phrase that had changed the world as it did.
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[ WP ] The really annoying thing about being a vampire is not the inability to see your reflection , but rather the fact you are n't detected by automatic doors , soap dispensers , or the paper towel dispenser .
| Fuck.
I should have known. As a matter of fact, if it was n't for the seriousness of the situation, I'd be having a good chuckle right now. In my 3000 some odd years walking this Earth I had, as they say, came, saw and, most importantly, conquered. I had been faced with insurmountable odds; I had looked down the barrels of many guns, heard the roar of waves coming to consume me and faced towards an army with spikes drawn, and through it all I had prevailed. Against quite literally all the odds, I had survived. Only to be potentially destroyed after 3000 years at the hands of an automatic door.
I quickly checked my watch and saw I had at least half an hour before I could consider taking desperate measures. The watch I had just checked was n't mine, in fact, the suit, coat and most of the clothing I currently had on was n't mine. The vast majority of the clothing had come from a recently deceased mobster, who had been a most excellent meal, and who was also currently buried in a dumpster in the form of ash. I know what I must do to survive is a ghastly and grievous thing to do to people; the killing, drinking and disposing of people in order to survive but, I have learned that there are a great amount of people who most certainly would n't be missed by the rest of society, and that I could drink from without feeling the slightest bit of guilt. In the early days, I honestly do n't know how I managed to do it; the breaking in, the need to kill them quickly before I lost the nerve to do it, the incessant apologies and begging for forgiveness that usually followed, the tears. I was a monster, a predator, a murderer. Until the fateful night that changed me; walking through an alley in Ancient Rome, hearing the cry of the woman, seeing her robber and the sudden, glorious realization of not only another way, but of a purpose, a mission, a reason to go on living, which for the longest time in my life, I had lacked. His blood tasted rotten in comparison to the sweet feasts of my previous victims, revealing the scum he was, but it was, and remains to be, the best drink I had ever had.
Ever since then, I have made it not only my mission in life, but my modus operandi for survival. No innocent men, women or children. Only the blood of the corrupt, the wicked and the truly evil will pass my lips. Only those that deserve to die will die for my sake, so that I may live to kill more of those like them. And when, and only when the body of the last evil man or woman on Earth is drained of blood, then my mission will be complete. Unfortunately, given the fact I've been doing this for 2900 years, with my list of targets growing every day, I suspect my mission will never truly be complete. Which suits me fine, because despite the hard work, low pay and long hours, I've come to immensely enjoy my job. The life of a vigilante is a lonely one, but that also suits me fine. I've had a few companions over the years, some of the finest men and women I've ever had the pleasure and honor of fighting alongside, but ultimately, due to the dangers of the trade and `` physical'' limitations humans tend to have, none of my partnerships have been very long lived. I work in the shadows, in silence, in anonymity, and what I lack in receiving gratitude from others for my noble effort, I make up for in the fact that I know that, despite my intended purpose for existence, I'm instead making the world a better place, one villain at a time.
But of course, none of this would matter or be able to continue unless I could get inside. My primary Achilles Heel is the fact that moving around in daylight without drawing attention to myself and my, interesting, choice of clothing is next to impossible. Apparently, people do n't wear a winter jacket, snow pants and ski helmet complete with goggles in the middle of July here in Chicago, and although my trench coat did look quite lovely, it would n't provide adequate protection from my worst enemy, the sun. Which also suited me fine. Besides, I tend to operate better during the night after having slept during the day. I also think it possesses a neat atmosphere for my work; the lone figure moving through the darkened streets, trench coat fluttering behind him, eyes glowing menacingly in the darkness, the only light to be seen. I roll my eyes every time I think of this cliche, but my god does it feel good to be the stereotype of a badass. I glance up at the sound of approaching footsteps, and see a man walking towards me and my insurmountable gate. Right on time too, I was just beginning to consider breaking the glass to get into the underground station, a break in I would have rather not dealt with. I was n't concerned about being caught; despite the two security cameras pointed at the door, if anyone were to watch the tapes, all they would see would be the sudden shattering of glass, and the inexplicable displacement of the shards, almost as if by a poltergeist. No, I just did n't want to make trouble for the poor men and women who worked here, lord knows they already had enough to deal with. The man approaching the door looked as if he had slept for maybe two hours at most, a terrible fate especially considering the fact that he was awake at this ungodly hour. He was wearing a black fleece jacket and jeans, which seemed to be the standard issue outfit for men in cities such as Chicago. As he walked towards me, our eyes met, and we exchanged curt nods, almost undetectable, one professional acknowledging another. I glanced back down at the piece of plastic in my hand, something humans call a cell phone. I had learned that staring down at one of these devices inexplicably diverted all the suspicion that usually come from one standing in a place where people do n't usually stand around, like the situation I had, up until a few moments ago, found myself in. I had taken this off the recently deceased mobster as well, and in the process, found my next target, a government man that was supplying the mobster and his gang with weapons. It was he that I intended to drink from next, but for now, all I wanted to do was sleep. I exited out of an app with an alien on the cover and fell in line behind the man headed for the underground station. As he approached the automatic door, it slid open to let him pass, almost as if by magic, and I quickly followed him through, before the door could close and seal my fate, or at least make my survival a burden to others. As I descended the steps into the underground, away from the light of the rising sun, I briefly contemplated where my I would be residing for the day. I decided on a maintenance closet in a small hallway off the one heading towards the platform. There, I opened the ceiling, climbed up and into it, and placed the tile in it's slot behind me. Then, I opened my satchel and spread out my blanket on the ground and laid down for some much deserved sleep, I had quickly learned that sleeping upside down, along with most stereotypes that define my kind, were just as stupid as I had believed them to be. As I slowly felt the gentle pull of sleep grow stronger, I performed the ritual I had every night since that first night in Rome, I prayed for whoever might be out there to give me strength to continue my mission, and thanked my tormentors and captors from 3000 years ago, for inadvertently or not, giving me the chance to do something I had always dreamed of doing; changing the world.
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[ MP ] It 's the spring of 1969 . I 'm a high school dropout . You 're Charles Manson . Convince me to join the family .
| The sun is starting to set... it's warm on my face, and I am getting sleepy. I lie back on the cushions of the VW bus I am riding in. These people were so kind to pick me up. My feet were getting tired from all the walking and I was tired of being passed by and looked at like I was a freak while hitching a ride to L.A.
Smiling, Charlie glances at me in the rearview mirror and tells me to go to sleep if I want. I close my eyes and drift off to sleep, safe and warm, while Tex plays the guitar and Susan sings.
My last thoughts are the words Charlie said to me when he pulled over to pick me up. `` Want to be famous forever?''
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[ WP ] While walking , you notice everyone recoiling from a young woman . you speak to her to find out why . through her surprise , she explains she is death and everyone else sees a person based on how they feel about the concept of death . You 've never seen a more beautiful or inviting person .
| I see her, and time slows to a crawl. She's gliding through a crowd, effortlessly parting it. They're all glancing fearfully at her, through the sides of their eyes as if looking at her head-on would blind them. But I know her. That's my Arabella. I scream, and ca n't stop screaming. `` Arabella! ARABELLA!'' And I ca n't help but lunge through the crowd, elbowing at the people hurrying away. And finally she notices me, turns towards me with a blank stare.
I've finally reached her, grasping her to me in a hug that can not possibly convey all the wretchedness I've felt since I lost her, all the relief I feel now that she's back. But she looks at me with those piercing brown eyes, lips parting as if in slow motion to softly whisper ``... who? Who are you?''
`` Arabella? What's wrong? Why do n't you know who I am?'' And with that she smiles sadly, saying `` Ah... so you're one of those.'' I ca n't process this reaction as I'm taking in her face, all the tiny features I know so well. The little freckle on her cheek, the scar above her eye that she told me she got when she ran into a mailbox as a child. It's been almost a year since she left for intensive treatment at a hospital three states away, but she's back. She's back.
But she's holding my face in her hands now, wiping away the tears streaming from my eyes and with a with a melancholy expression I ca n't understand, kisses me gently on the forehead. `` I'm sorry - I'm not her. You're seeing this body right now because she is who you want to see in the end, but that time is not now and that person is not here now.'' I do n't know what she's saying. She's looking at me with the same face I've always known, the same soft hands I've always reached for. But she's cold, so cold. And then I understand - she's gone.
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[ WP ] I dunno , I mean , the soldier IS kinda like a big brother to me , so ... ''
| Wist Nay'tu peered down at her cup of half finished caf, her amber eyes filled with sadness.
`` So Tomess, you mean you never knew your parents?''''
A rueful smile crossed Tomess Ghast's lips as he shook his head, pouring a generous slug of whiskey into his cup as he did so.
`` My birth parents no, I never met my father. And my mother? I'd like to say I have faint memories of her, of hair like mine and a song remember in distant dreams but nothing comes to mind. But it's not like I was without family. By right of my father's blood I was a member of the Cirvus Sept, akin to one of your Bothan clans. Us Ord Ivrish have two layers of loyalty. The first is by blood to our family, our sept and from there our world. Very much like Bothan culture. The second is by the companies and formations we are a part of when we fight others' wars.
`` The Ivrish have always had to band together against the greater galaxy. We've been used as blaster fodder in so many beings' wars. Hundreds of thousand of us thrown in the meat grinder of who knows how many wars. We first came into prominence during the Pius Dea Crusades when we helped destroy Baragwin homeworld. When the Mandalorians invaded the Randon system during their wars four millenia ago, it was Ivrish mercenaries that halted them with our own bodies. But war's just about the only profession we can do.
`` Farming's a harsh existence on our world and families tend to be large. If you're not the first born son or else receive a coveted job in the cities or shipyards there's not much going for you. The pay's better and opportunities greater out there in the galaxy. Blasters are cheap, swords even more so. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy though; the only thing the galaxy sees us as are soldiers and so only hire us as such but then the only opportunities for an Ivrishman are a soldier's lot, thereby reinforcing the stereotype. We're a martial race or so I've been told, a world of warriors only good for one thing. Never mind our engineers and farmers and legendary poets. In the eyes of the galaxy we're warriors first and everything else second. We're not poets, we're warrior-poets. We are just engineers but military engineers. I'm not bitter about how the galaxy sees us, but I'd like them to at least acknowledge us as something more. Something better than bodies for their wars and conflicts. They call us savage and scum but I do n't see them lining up to get shot at and shelled on. We have respect for our skills at arms, I want their respect as beings with our own dreams and desires. But that will never happen, not in this galaxy.''
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