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[ WP ] In the future , Canada has a total dictatorship . Canadians do n't mind because the Dictator is a kinda nice guy actually .
| *Exterior shot of 24 Sussex Drive, a demolished looking car is parked askew on the front lawn*
Bubbles: Boys were in f*ckin' trouble this time, that was the PRIME MINISTER! Somebodies gon na notice hes missing!
Julian: Do n't worry Bubs, the last place anybodies going to look for him is in his own house! This is all going according to plan. All we have to do is get him really drunk and high, and he will grant us immunity for all time! Think about it, we wo n't have to worry about the cops again!
Ricky: I do n't know, that Steve Harpoon seemed like a real cocksucker Julian, I offered him some of my best hash and that white helmet haired dickhead just kept yelling about kidnapping and terrrormists and whatnot.
Bubbles: I think you mean terrorists Ricky...
Ricky: That's what I said! Anyways he's in the back with Corey and Jacob, even those two f*cknuts should be able to get him drunk and high enough to get our immunization on video.
Julian: Look boys, just stick to the plan, the broadcast set up for the Prime Ministers `` fireside chat'' goes live in five minutes, and the whole country will hear about how we are untouchable... wait what was that?!
*Four police cars and a 1976 Chrysler pull up to the front lawn, police officers get out, guns drawn on the front of the house, Jim Lahey and Randy also appear, holding a bullhorn and cheeseburger respectively*
Bubbles: MMMM its the f*ckin cops... and Lahey? Oh shit boys he's back on the liquor!
*Ricky and Julian draw their guns and jump behind cover, exchanging fire with the police*
Mr. Lahey: Lishten up Ricky... we have you completely shurrounded! Come out with your hands up and the Prime Minister unharmed and maybe you'll only spend the rest of your lives in jail... I'll make sure they go eassy on sexy Julian
Ricky: F*ck off Lahey!
Randy: Frig off Ricky!
Julian: Lets all just calm down, we were invited here as guests...
Ricky: Yah we are supposed to be here assholes!
Mr. Lahey: A likely shit-tale Ricky, I'm sure you have a whole shit-library of them to try to get out of this one, but you've gone too far this time!
*Suddenly the Prime Minister appears on the television in the lobby, clearly inebriated and high on hash, across from Corey and Jacob who look confused. Everyone stops shooting to watch*
Bubbles: Boys, are you seeing this? We're missing the broadcast!
Prime Minister: Man, I thought you guys were terrorists or whatever, but you're alright! Not like that stupid asshole in the checker shirt! You say he's your boss?
Corey: Yeah, Ricky is our boss and our best friend
Ricky: Hey, I'm not friends with those idiots..
Prime Minister: Tell you what, I'm officially giving you my job! Now you can be his boss, hell you can be EVERYONES BOSS! It sucks anyways, no booze, no weed, constantly watching out for reporters, f*ck that! Hear that Canada? SUCK MY...
*transmission cuts*
Julian: Did you just see that?
Bubbles: Boys, I think Corey and Jacob Just became Prime Minister...
*trailer park boys intro*
|
[ WP ] It is the year 3017 , archaeologists find what they think were manuscripts of an ancient religion , when they are in fact Marvel comic books
| `` Praise be to the Captain! Courage, honor, loyalty, sacrifice. You're braver than you think. `` The congregation said in unison pressing their hands against the large white star emblazoned on their chests.
`` Go with honor and courage, and may the Captain always guide you,'' the Pastor said dismissing everyone.
Men, women and children in robes dyed red, white, and blue rose from pews and filtered out of the heavy wooden doors. Stained glass windows depicting images of Captain America fighting Nazis broke the sun light into a myriad of colors.
High Captain Anderson stayed behind and waited for the church to empty.
`` Grand Captain Amery, you seemed... distracted during today's sermon. Is everything alright?''
`` No,'' he said quietly. `` This was nailed to the door of the church this morning,'' he said handing over a crumpled piece of paper.
Anderson gently unfolded the paper. Images depicting the death of their beloved Captain America stained the pages.
`` Impossible,'' Anderson whispered.
`` Turn it over.''
Scrawled in heavy red ink were the words, `` The Church of Iron man is the one true church.''
`` Blasphemy!'' Anderson spat, crumpling the paper in his fist. It was the same reaction Amery must have had.
`` They have always tried to denounce Captain America and flaunt their Iron man. Heretics, blasphemers!'' Anderson took a long deep breath.
`` What are we going to do?'' He asked the Grand Captain.
`` They have cast the first stone. I do n't know if I can see any other option.'' The Grand Captain paused, searching for any other possible solution.
`` There will be war.''
-- -
Thanks for reading! Check out [ this awesome place ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/Written4Reddit/comments/5xcmgx/welcome_to_w4r/ ) for more stories.
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[ CW ] Write a story in response to the question `` What was your first time like ? '' Do n't reveal specifically what you 're referring to until the last sentence .
| At first, there was a shock. A little one, mind you, but it grew in intensity over time. A sharp sensation coursed through me.
Then, the adrenaline. It shot through the entirety of my being. I could feel the tips of my fingers and toes start to tingle. Then came the numb.
A cold chill slowly crept down my neck from the base of my skull. It shook my being completely. I had no time to react to the flood of sensations swarming my mind in such a small span of time.
Just as I began to understand what had happened, the feeling was gone. The suddenness of it, the thrill and excitement, gone, like a flame doused. I felt my head go light, the lights in the room start to dim. My feet fell out from beneath me.
It was nerve wracking. I could n't think, could n't speak, could n't feel. My breath was stunted and sharp. My chest was tense, and I could feel my lungs contracting in protest.
I tightly held onto my chest, feeling the pulse of my heart increase rapidly. Then, slowly, it too faded.
|
[ WP ] Who Are You ?
| Alistair sat in his car, crowds bustling to an fro without paying him an eye, just another face on the street to forget. Rain started to pelt the windshield, falling among the neon spires in a fluorescent haze. Tossing another smoke out the window, the nearby bustling space port hummed away as ships soared low enough to toss rocks at. An occasional grumble from a set of engines rattled the car. As he lit another, the passenger door swung open, finally. Pushing a small stack of envelopes on the dash, Alistair turned his head to see a familiar snout of his alien contact, `` Tallon is moving again.'' `` What's it mean to me?'' Alistair retorted. Returning his gaze out the window, `` How about you tell me who Tallon is, or what, it is before I go tramping off into Corlus space again.'' Again the alien nudged the envelopes forward, `` You were impeccably efficient with the Dorlantium Rogue problem. I was impress-'''' Whoever you're working for was impressed,'' the human gritted. Beginning to open the pale white packages. `` I'm assuming your Berulian handler pays you well.'' The alien chuckled, returning the subject to the original matter. `` The spy you interrogated, tell your Alliance superiors to look in the Bastion Region, near the planet Cordello. Those number will make more sense then.'' He said clawing at the paper with scrawls of number and alien translations. `` And when we do? Just give you a call, huh?'' `` I'll know how to find you.''
|
[ WP ] You get a seven day free trial for immortality .
| The methodical, slow beeping of the various machines in the room was the only company the frail, ancient-looking figure had. Tubes and IVs clung to his spindly frame, the precious oxygen and fluids the only things keeping him alive.
How many months had it been? Two? Three?
They all seemed a distant memory to him. Various figures who would lean at his bedside, offer him words of comfort and love. They trickled off slowly, one by one, until not even his grand-daughter would visit.
`` The baby is due any day now,'' she had told him, hands softly caressing the swollen belly. A smile tried to tug at his lips, the action all but draining the strength from him. He was going to be a great-grand-dad. That joy all over again of welcoming a new bundle of hope to the world.
He closed his eyes, knowing he would never meet the child.
Again, fond memories playing through his tired mind. A game of chess with his only grand-daughter, both brows furrowed in deep concentration; a walk in the park as the autumn leaves began their descent in a swirling whirlwind of colour; a game of soccer on grass so green you could swear someone had spilled a bucket of paint; Math problems in a thick schoolbook, pencils working furiously as words and ideas were exchanged;
A new, tiny face still sleeping in the blanket wrapped around her newborn self.
The heart monitors began to slow. A genuine smile play across his lips as he felt his lungs draw in one final breath of air, before slowly exhaling it.
A weight leaned against the side of the bed. For a moment, the man held that last breath. Visiting hours had closed long ago and the night nurse had always done nothing more than check his chart before leaving.
`` I can give you time, you know,'' a voice said. It was deep, like the sound of a train echoing down the tracks as you pressed your ear against it.
The man did n't respond for a long while. His eyes remained closed, still lacking the strength to open them.
`` Miranda misses you dearly. Her child is due any day and she can not risk the trip out here.''
The man still did n't respond, instead waiting patiently. Who was this strange person? How did he know about his grand-daughter?
`` It's so very sad, that her parents never survived the accident,'' the stranger said, his powerful voice even and measured. `` You've been a father to her during all this time.'' The weight shifted on the bed slightly. `` I gave them the same offer, but... they knew it was their time. They knew their daughter was in good hands.''
He had done his best. The news had broken his heart. First his wife, then his son. It was with a heavy heart he had accepted responsibility for Miranda - and loved her every moment of every day.
`` And my, what good hands they were. She has become a beautiful woman, and will be a beautiful mother.''
A tear streaked down the man's cheek. A powerful ache of joy and sorrow throbbed in his frail chest as that smile played on his lips again.
`` I can give you time,'' the stranger offered again. `` In three days, your great-grandchild will be born.''
Time seemed to slow for the man. His eyes were still unable to open, but he could feel the heavy presence of the stranger next to his bed. What a strange voice he had - so ancient and powerful, but measured and musical. He could feel the weight of a million sorrows behind it.
`` There is no catch,'' the stranger said, as if sensing his question. `` Seven days, to live out as you need.'' He paused for a while, before the weight shifted again. `` Take your time to think, friend.''
The man weighed the options. He knew it was his time. All things, grand and small, had a beginning and an end. This... just so happened to be his end; an end to a life of a wonderful son and a beautiful grand-daughter. There was not a single moment he regretted.
A powerful rush of air filled his lungs.
~~
Miranda sat outside in the front porch of her home. Her hands caressed the large, distended stomach. Any day now.
The sound of a squeaking hinge brought her attention to the front gate of her property. Why had n't Richard fixed that yet? It was always such a grating sound, especially when she had guests over.
All too suddenly, she was aware of the tall, spindly figure carefully closing the squeaking gate behind him. She stood up on shaking knees as the man *strode* towards her, a fond and wisftul smile on his face.
`` G - grandad?'' she weakly stammered, her hands reaching out towards him. `` Y - you're... you're out?'' Tears brimmed in her eyes as a strong lump formed in her throat. `` You - you made it... for th - the child...''
The man pulled her into a surprisingly strong hug. Tears in his own eyes, he broke out into a toothy grin. `` Honey, I would n't miss it for the world.
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[ WP ] Discribe you own fictional city with as many details as possible to me . Let me see this city when I close my eyes !
| The wharf was a fair walk from the merchant quarter. I strolled leisurely. Industrious shopkeepers swept their entrances. Scurrying vendors set up booths, vying for the best locations, hanging brightly colored cloth on their wooden frames to attract customers.
There were swarthy, narrow-eyed Hemeni from the south, selling carved hardwood figurines. Pale-skinned Nethian traders from the far north hawked white furs and lamp oil. Small, quick-fingered Cheminites offered finely crafted tools. I even saw a stocky Menginese setting up wares in a gaily-colored blue and yellow booth, though I doubted his weapons were authentic. There were n't many in Port Boughton who could afford true Menginese metalwork.
The wharves were equally busy, dock workers unloading and loading cargo from the many ships. The sea breeze was crisp and left the tangy taste of salt in the back on my throat. There was the sharp scent of spices, the sour odor of livestock, the thick smell of hot pitch from the boats and piers, the reek of dead fish and garbage.
I found a seat on a battered wooden box in the shade of a warehouse wall and passed the morning watching the workers, nodding politely to the few that passed near as I waited for my son.
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[ WP ] Tell me an emotional story about a man , using only what he would type into Google search
| Top pre-med programs in the US
What is a good SAT score?
How to stay social during college?
Is a 3.8 good enough to get into John Hopkins?
Affordable medical schools
Is Baylor a good medical school?
Basic gym exercises and how to stay fit
What are the best medical schools in the nation?
What to expect on the first day of medical school?
How to dress professionally during rotation
Medial vs. Lateral lemniscal tracts
in utero circulation pathway
Pros/Cons between OB/GYN and Cardiology
How to deal with stress of being a surgeon
How to deal with death of your patients
Insomnia
Depression
Cardiology support forums
Does breaking the news to patients' families get easier?
What to do if you realize you're not cut out to be a surgeon
Non-profits
Doctors without borders
Moving to a third world country
Vaccines Central African Republic
human African trypanosomiasis
How to say `` hello'' in Sango
How to order girl scout cookies from outside US
shipping cost USA to CAR
Smuggling girl scout cookies
How to tell her she's beautiful in Sango
How to tell parents I'm engaged
African wedding traditions
Honeymoon Zanzibar
Starting your own non-profit
Best country to raise child
How to raise my daughter bilingual
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[ WP ] `` Run to the trees , they will protect you ''
| `` Run to the trees!'' A voice yells out over terrified screams. The night is alight with fire, and the cobblestone streets are swimming with hellish, formless beasts. They tear through the village and into homes, where the horrors they commit are concealed by walls. `` They will protect you!''
Avery clutches onto the handle of the doorknob in front of her and pulls on it. It jerks back, reluctant to give in. Inside the small house, Emily screams between her coughs. She bangs against the door in desperation, and then moves to the front window. She pulls at the frame, but it refuses to move, and the glass wo n't break against the chair she throws against it.
Heat laps at the metal of the doorknob, and Avery hisses in pain as she lets go. She's been trying to get Emily out of the house for at least ten minutes. Throughout the village, others have been doing the same.
`` Run to the trees!'' The voice calls out again. Avery wonders if he's aware that not everyone can leave.
A low growl startles Avery and she looks up from her singed hands. In the short distance, a pair of bright red eyes shine in the shadow of an alleyway. Its bared teeth shine in the darkness, dripping with a liquid she can only assume is blood. Avery stumbles backwards. From within the house, Emily bangs on the window.
`` *Please*,'' Emily begs. She coughs against the glass, a cloud of thick, grey smoke all around her. Flames dance along the cieling and creep out on to the roof. `` Do n't leave me, Avery!''
The beast growls again, and Avery takes another step backwards, then turns completely on her heels and runs down the street. The formless creature follows in close pursuit, the way the darkness of night creeps over the land.
Emily falls to the floor, and she's lost to the world as another fell beast takes the form of a winged hound and crashes through her door.
As Avery runs through the street, she raises her hands to shield her ears against the screams of the helpless. She ca n't listen to them, not now, lest the guilt threaten to bring her to her knees. Instead, she plows on.'*Run for the trees*,' she thinks.'*Run for the trees. *'
Roren turns a corner and runs up to Avery's side, and he points up the hill to the forest, where the towering trees swing their ancient branches against swooping shadows. If they could make it to the trees-
A beast leaps out of the hungry flames of a collapsed house and pulls Roren to the ground with its great claws. Avery screams and trips over herself, falling to the ground with a *thud*. She looks up to Roren, who reaches out. As his long fingers stretch out to her, she kicks herself back and away from him. There is blood streaming from his eyes.
Avery's chest rises and falls with heavy, labored breaths, and she stares, petrified in place as the great beast begins to devour her friend. He screams her name, but it's nearly intelligible through gargles and the streams of blood that spill from his mouth.
She wants to scream.
She wants to scream, but she needs to move.
With no small amount of effort, Avery pushes herself up to her heavy, shaking legs and lumbers forward. Slow, at first, and then faster, she slips into sprint. The hill is just up ahead, and she's coming up on it fast, but she can feel a beast creeping up behind her. Its smoky tendrils lick at the back of her neck, and she lets out a shriek as she dashes up the hill. Her legs feel like pudding and she's certain there are boulders in her lungs, but she ca n't slow down, and she certainly ca n't stop.
Almost there, almost there. The top of the hill is just a few more steps.
She feels a claw dig into her forearm. It burns like hot iron against her skin and she rips her arm away, cringing against the pain as the claw tears through her flesh. Just as she reaches the hilltop, a great oak shakes the ground with a stomp of its heavy, split trunk, and Avery dives for the ground as it swings a rope of its roots. With a crack and a snap that echoes through the air, the beast is taken out.
Avery crawls between the wide legs of the oak tree and towards the forest, where a small group of people hide behind the protection of the Mother Trees. Finally, as she approaches the forest, a Mother Tree shifts to the side to allow her passage. A small sapling clings to its side, peering out from behind the willow. Just as Avery takes a step closer to protection, a beast comes at her from the side and knocks the wind out of her. She's pinned on the ground underneath its great, wide paws, and a claw scrapes against her cheek. As the warm blood spills down her face and onto her neck, she looks into the fiery red eyes of the creature above her.
|
[ WP ] A hitman in a world where direct violence is ineffective .
| I sat across the table from him. He was close to breaking, I would sense it. I'd seen it dozens of times over the years. The sweat starts to bead on the forehead, just below the hairline, followed by some loud swallowing and clearing of the throat. Soon his eyes would start to dart around the room, searching for a way out. And then... the break.
`` So how about it?'' I enquired. Not long now... not long.
`` Come on mate, you ca n't be serious.'' He was staring at the screen of his phone, like his gaze would somehow fix the mess he was seeing. He put it down on the table and looked up at me. The sweat was there now.
`` Just... just let me go over this one more time.''
`` Ok.'' I relaxed back into my chair. I had all the power here.
`` The money is really all gone, and the overdraft is legit.''
`` Yup.''
`` And these photos will go live?''
`` Yup.''
``... ok. And those guys I talked with... they're slavers, for real?''
I just nodded. His gaze was shifting now. Looking for an escape. Hoping to wake up.
He stared up at me now. `` How can you do this to someone? You set me up! You... all of this was started by you!''
`` Look - I do n't care how all this started. It's a simple choice for you: Drink the mixture'' I pushed the vial towards him `` or watch your life, your family, and your possessions disappear in the blink of an eye.''
He looked down at the vial. `` And I wo n't feel a thing?'' His voice was quiet. Desperate.
`` Not a thing.''
`` Screw it.'' He broke right there. Decided just to take the leap. He grabbed the vial and drank it all back. I'm not sure what he expected exactly, but I heard the bones starting to creak before his first cry escaped.
`` YOU SAID THERE WOULD N'T BE PAIN!''
I shrugged. `` I lied.''
Idiot.
As his throat began to close up, his cries quietly died. I phoned it in.
`` Bill, he's gone. Call me when you need the next one taken care of.''
& nbsp;
___________________________________________________________
If you enjoyed this, feel free to check out more of my writing [ here ] ( http: //ihlaking.com )!
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[ WP ] `` That 's my superpower . I speak Dragon . ''
| β I told you sammy my boy you ca n't be here! β sir told his son begging and scolding with a glance β but sir you said i could n't be part of the team because I do n't have a superpower but I do! β the words tumbled out of sam's mouth so quickly he was almost knocked over by the force but he continued. β abdvd jjxbc avh dkk ooop β he smiled β sorry what? β captain asked looking sorry for him sams smile faded β abdvd jβ¦.. β β im sorry sammy we have a lot of work to do you should go β sir pressed β no sir you do n't understand thats my superpower.I speak dragon. I've been learning it on this website I found. dsnovurnwhfh fjsnfvj ufv isoguwrhv β sam looked around exited. no one else looked excited. They were staring at him with mostly pitiful looks although he did get some that said β aww cute β which he could n't decide whether was better or wors.
Sam was the only one who was n't born with a superpower. As far a he was concerned thats all he would ever be. He had huge family full of superhero legends: ranger, encrediskull, goldenboy, grayback, zonzini captain, missy, wip, mr.charm, xz4, mist, sax and the thunderbolt. Of course then there was also sam β s dad the family embarrassment ( after sam ) former legend: sir. sir was the biggest superhero of them all but he lost his powers in combat and did n't tell anyone for a long time so people just thought he did n't care anymore. There was a huge villain who was wrecking the city and sir did n't do anything. Ever since he β s been an embarrassment. Hes only still on the team because he β s been in the business so long. But now he β s just h the consultant with the failure of a son.
Sam was positive he was adopted for some time. So shore they did a blood test. He was son of sir and missy. Which only made him feel worse. To him it meant he really was just the defect. Ever since hes been trying to get on the team, to find some sort of power β Thats my superpower. I jump really high β β Look mist thats my superpower! I can do laundry super fast! β β Thats it my superpower its that Im crazy good at math β that last one was almost taken but then they discovered his F in math. It never ends.
Finally one day when sam bust in the room β Thats my super power. β β SAMMY YOU β RE NOT A SUPERHERO YOU WILL NEVER BE A SUPERHERO! JUST, just deal with that. Alright! β xz4 told him. Sam stared at her. He swallowed slowly then said shakily β al... alright. β he dragged his feet as quickly as he could manage at that moment out of the door his head hanging limply on his neck. no one went after him. Everyone sat there uncomfortably not knowing what to do. A room full of legendary superheroes and their biggest problem was a sixteen year old with no powers whatsoever.
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[ WP ] `` You may be a god , but I 've lived in a age before there were Gods . I 'm so old I can tell Time what time it is . ''
| The snow danced through the frame of the Eiffel Tower, coating the city below in a fine white sheet. The loudest sound for miles was the creaking of the metal structure and the wind drifting lazily past.
`` I had assumed you would be here, sir. It appears I was right.''
A clink of silverware being set, and the appearance of a chair opposite the young boy was the only response the visitor got, before the child turned back to his breakfast and the city with a small sigh.
`` As always, you can drop the titles, *milord. * Or have you fashioned yourself a new title since we've last spoken?'' The boy took a sip of his chilled apple cider before turning back to his visitor, expressionless. `` How are you enjoying the city so far?''
`` This city is a tragedy.'' The man glanced at the grey-haired boy before looking out to the far edges of the district. `` This *city* is a damned monster, with a idiot ΓΌbermensch as its master. This city used to be the pride of **empires**, and now it's nothing more than a mutt that needs to either be put down, or given some proper medicine.''
The elderly gentleman's eyes hardened, and he stroked his now long beard in thought. `` You would have me fix this place.'' It was not a question, that much was certain.
`` It is a *simple* matter of fixing all of this. Well within your power. You could contain all of this with a simple snap of your fingers before morning tea, yet you persist in letting Armageddon and the Wastelands of Time ravage this city like some, some fifty pound street whore.'' The man wrapped his coat tightly around him, brushing away the cold that had slowly seeped in during the course of his speech. `` You have nothing else here to do, of that I am sure.''
`` Seventeen times you have requested something of me, and each time I have turned you down. Why do you think this time will be so different?''
The man glared at his host before responding. `` None of those times were particularly important. My requests were infinitesimal in the grand scale of the universe. But here, where we stand, my request is the most important question in all of Creation.'' The man got up to stretch his legs before returning to his previous seated position, taking a bite of his now cold waffle. `` When you die, your power will pass to me. If not by rite of conquest, than by rite of being the Last. I've investigated the depths of my soul and decided I do not particularly wish to be the last entity in all of Creation. I would much rather we work together to fix our mistakes and heal this scarred land, not watch as,'' he gestured to the blackened wireframe outline of a prehistoric hut floated past. `` the very concept of Time itself unravels at the heart of this city.''
`` I daresay we are both Gods now. I by my power, you by being my successor, and indeed by being the Last God.'' The man rose from his chair. `` You may be a God, but I've lived in an age before there were Gods. I'm so old I can tell Time what time it is.'' The middle-aged man leaned against the handrail, anger radiating off of him in waves, waiting for the air to restore his calm.
`` You ask me to fix this city, to sacrifice myself and restore this land to how it once was as a favor to you. Time gives no favors.'' He said, smirking to himself, an act that looked particularly strange on his ever-shifting face. The now-hovering toddler looked over at the seated man, eyes blazing in defiance. `` I would drown this city, this country, and the entirety of Creation in hellfire before I would let you reign over the ashes. Even I will die sometime, but even that will not stop me from guarding my demesne from you.''
The duke stood up in response, glaring hatefully at the God before him. `` When you are dead-''
`` When I am dead this will indeed be your inheritance. Your power condemned the world. My power ended it. And only by my Word will you have your sovereign kingdom. I must confess, sometimes I wonder, will you truly be satisfied, ruling over Nothing?''
The black coated man laughed, a dark and ominous laugh that choked the very air around the duo. `` Perhaps you are right, my brother.'' He pointed far out on the horizon, and his host, the young man, turned to look at where he was pointing.
Cain smirked, and called for the lift to bring them both down to the crumbling streets below them. `` Perhaps, Abel, we should ask them instead?''
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[ WP ] `` What do you mean , 'It broke ' '' ?
| Ronnie looked at the border of the phenomenon with fascination. Actual, honest-to-God fascination. He literally found it hard to pull his eyes away. They stood at the edge of a field just beyond the end of their back yard, and that was where it all just stopped. All of it.
About thirty feet or so past the end of the fence was a blank, black space. It was not merely that the space was dark. It was solid black. And not as in black-the-color, either. At least things which are merely colored solid black can still be made out by their outlines. No, this black was almost a catastrophic absence of everything. Ronnie wondered idly if you stuck your hand into it, would you be able to feel anything? But he did n't wonder badly enough to actually try it, because that seemed as if it might be dangerous.
Past the ragged edge beyond the fence, the empty, dangerous looking blackness extended as far as the eye could see. It might be more accurate to say as far as the eye could *not* see, but Ronnie was n't sure that was a valid expression, so he stuck to what he knew.
He finally pulled his gaze to the edge of the event. There he saw Melissa lying flat on her belly in the very last space of grass that extended just past the end of the yard, staring very closely at the edge of the phenomenon. She seemed to be trying to make out something about the glittering specks of polychromatic light that flickered and blinked weakly on the very edge of the blackness. Once while she was doing this she had squirmed back a bit, and Ronnie had the oddest sensation she had done so because the edge which she was studying had slithered forward the tiniest bit toward them.
She had said something just then, and Ronnie was n't sure he understood her, so he asked her to repeat it, and she did. He blinked and thought about it for another moment, but it still did n't make sense to him.
`` What do you mean'it broke'?'' he asked.
|
[ WP ] A struggling , unfunny comedian has his big break , but his show is terrible . So terrible , in fact , that the audience loves it .
| `` You suck'',
`` not funny'',
`` you think this is comedy?''. They would always say.
Jim always knew he was funny. Actually, Jim knew he was hilarious. They just did n't get it, show after show misunderstood, *why do n't they understand? * Tonight was different though. A different crowd - Johnny set him up big - `` I set you up big'' Johnny would say. He said that every night, but this time his tone was maybe half an octave different, enough of an octave to convince Jim.
The curtains opened, Jim did the classic: pace back on forth on the stage for 4 minutes mumbling curses to himself; 5 minutes of his favourite scene from *The Tree of Life*, there are n't words but Jim knew that bit in the movie was hilarious; 10 minutes of mocking the entire audience, vigorously - this time he bit someone. Finally 20 minutes of sociology-esque doings - trying to kiss members of the audience, eating their food, half starting fights. This time he actually made it past the final stage. People got it!
They understood the humour. Jim had worked almost his entire life for people to start seeing things his way. Stop taking life so seriously. Seriously, stop it. He would always tell this to Johnny, Johnny would just say `` No''. Classic Johnny. There were things in everyday doings that were funny, it was just a way of looking at it. He need n't have to point it out, he just had to do it and people had to see it. He was n't some lecturer pointing it out.
Johnny said his next show would n't be the same, he said: `` your next show wo n't be the same''. Classic Johnny. Jimhad to step it up. Not in quantity he thought, but in quality. Something that happens to the audience that is negative but actually funny. He had to set up proper, he had to do it right. He had to make people see the triviality in things and be able to laugh at them. Jim had to nail it.
`` I set you up big'' said Johnny. The curtains opened, `` I set you up big'' said Jim. `` You people do n't understand comedy.. `` he had to pause for them to stop laughing, idiots. `` Seriously..'' laughing ensued, Jim was getting impatient - everything was set up big. `` Everything is important, but not really. We're insignificant. Tomorrow the news might read'crazed entertainer kills himself on stage' and people will care for a week, tops. In 200 years time only the leaders of great change will be remembered. Entertainers: forgotten. We are but your fools for the age. We entertain to feel important but our importance does n't last. You have to understand. Things do n't matter, so just laugh! Laugh''. The single shot was fired and Jim fell to the ground.
|
[ WP ] Main character wakes up after brain surgery with the ability to see a hidden dimension on Earth . They realize mythological beasts from literature are real , and they are at war .
| I'm out of practice, but here's a couple of pages of inspiration that I whipped up from the prompt:
A mist, perhaps resembling a light fog was all April remembered of the accident that left her in a shallow pond. Her body flew with such force into the windshield the ER had to stabilize her into an induced coma before they could operate to reduce the swelling on her brain. In between anesthesia and lucidity a gentle voice said β You are given the gift of visions β. The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes were fresh blooming lilacs from her Mother's garden in a clear vase, pink tulips in paper waiting for water next to them and her boyfriend Caleb napping.
April tried to get up but her body felt frozen, she tried to speak but her lips were not moving. A very tall woman entered the room. The woman wore a plain light pastel colored dress, with a silver shawl. The fabric itself was n't just shimmering, she was!
β Who are you? β April thought.
β My name is Airmid. I am the keeper of medicine and healing. I have come to help you understand what you see before you awake β Airmid stroked April's hair β I can hear you, your thoughts. It's okay. You will be well β she said.
β I'm confused. I'm hallucinating. I've heard this happens in comas. I must be in a coma. You're not real β April could feel herself rolling her eyes if she could.
Airmid smiled and shook her head a bit. β Ohhh. You say that now. Do n't bite the hand that feeds. You'll be seeing much more once you actually open your eyes. There is not much time to explain this instant April. The doctor is taking you out of the coma soon. Your family and loved ones are starting to surround themselves around you now. The universe has heard your many cries for evidence of The-Other World. The universe also sees great potential in you to do more than simply see it when the time is right. Do not fear, you can only see it right now. The- Other World can not yet see you. Be warned, gradually it will β
Airmid put her lips to April's forehead β I bless you with divine protection β then, April opened her eyes.
β It may take a moment, but when she is awake be calm please. She needs the room nice and relaxed. The nurse will be in shortly if you need anything β The doctor promptly strolled out, April's parent's noticed her slits of eyes unveiling, father grabbing her hand. Mother had tears rolling down her cheeks, Caleb waiting his turn behind them. Comfort, happy tears, favorite treats commenced. They asked April what she remembered, and she could n't recall.
The nurse popped in a hour before visiting hours were over and suggested to the family to let their loved one rest. April mouthed β Thank you β when they were not looking, and closed her eyes, wanting to drift. When she opened them her parents, Caleb they were gone but the nurse was not. The nurse sat in a chair right next to her with a coy smile.
β I did n't catch your name? β April asked.
β I'm Ariel. β and in a gust as if an energy went into her, April saw a blue mist dance in the room for a moment before the nurse spoke again, but her voice was a bit higher and eyes wider. β Or you can call me Airmid. I will be entering people's bodies as needed to assist you in the transition. β Airmid Ariel smiled and held April's hand.
April rubbed her eyes β Nurse Ariel, I think i'm hall- No. Um. Is it normal for people to hallucinate some after a coma? I think I'm just hearing some odd noise or- You know what. I do n't know β April did n't want to believe what was happening. It was too much, too big, too incredible to entertain.
Airmid left the building and the nurse only remained, confused herself where she left off so she smiled, took April's chart and told her she would be discharged tomorrow morning before leaving the room to splash some cold water on her face.
Two weeks passed without a sign of Airmid. April was returning from the farmer's market with some flowers to plant in the garden and feeling confident in her recovery from surgery. No hallucinations, voices or anything so it seemed. She sat in the dirt and sweetly hummed, working in some chicken manure with her hand hoe. Moving down the row, she found some silver fabric that looked very familiar. For a moment her stomach became heavy.
β No, no, no! β A little voice buzzed. β Those will not do April. β
The voice was so small, April could n't pick up on where it was coming from. β Pardon? β
β Down here! In these terrible choices you made. β There she was. The size of your thumb, glowing hot pink wings, jet black hair and matching eyes. β A fucking fairy? Now, I need meds. It's official β April nodded to herself. β Oh get over yourself β another fairy, this time with green wings said square in front of April's face.
β I'm Maude and you have to listen here about these flowers β the green winged fairy announced.
β What's it to you? β April asked.
β What's it to us? β the black haired fairy started β This has been my family's grounds since before your family ever immigrated here. β
β That's right, you inform the girl Hilda! β Maude chimed, clenching her tiny hand into a warrior pose.
β We have a serious problem here April. Your family is determined to bring elves up in these mounds. All that squash and watermelon. It's horrible. β
β Whoa β April said β What is wrong with watermelon? Who does n't like sweet juicy watermelon?? β
β Do you know nothing? β Maude asked.
β Actually I do n't and I'll admit it. Inform me β
Hilda perched herself on a big rock April had n't cleared yet.
β Look, we do n't mean to be nasty but you're planting nothing but stinkies. The problem is we need better smelling picks. Those squash invite the most disgusting of bugs. We need lily of the valley, hibiscus, daffodils, thyme, lavender. Something, to keep the elves away! β Hilda looked satisfied with herself at that.
β I do n't understand. What's the problem with the elves? β
Hilda looked annoyed, Maude flew and grabbed April's ear.
β Ow! Unnecessary! β April said flinching.
β What is with you? How can you see us and not know the deal here? Elves are destructive little beasts who love to stink. They want to smell like dirt and stinkbugs. They take the innards of the stinkbug's stinker and trade it on the black market for wormwood to get stoned all day. Where there are stink bugs, they cause destruction. β Maude said.
β By the looks of it, you'll be seeing them if you see us. You should take our advice. You do n't want to deal with these bastards β Hilda added.
β Get going on some mint! Nice and fresh β Maude said. β Skip the damn squash! β Hilda piped and as quick as they arrived, they vanished.
|
[ WP ] Every person is given a name when they are born , but it is not their own . The person who 's name they received will have some significant impact on their life .
| Names are a personal thing, and not to be taken lightly. It used to be that a man and woman would do the business, make a baby, and spend god knows how many months of the pregnancy arguing about what they were going to call their little procreation.
β I want to call her Jamie, β The mother would say.
β Good thing we β re having a boy named Clarence, β The father would grumble.
β I don β t recall agreeing to Clarence, or a little boy, β The mother would snap.
β I didn β t eat peaches and cream for a week so we could have a Jamie, β The father would mutter.
And so on and so forth until they β d agree to name their bouncing baby brat Clarence Jamie or Jamie Clarisse, then the wonderful day would come! The little spawn would pop out of the mother and while she was recovering, joyous father would sneak off and ensure he had the final say on the name.
Yes, it was a wonderful time!
Although, there were always variations or exceptions.
But something changed, and folks are having a helluva time pegging just when it happened. My best friend, Khalise of Bartonville Woodson, will go on for hours if someone brings up the subject. He is *adamant* that the last test of the Large Hadron Collider is what did it. Something *snapped* in our universe. It β s the same reason why folks seem to think those bear books, you know the ones? The Berenstein Bears? He will give you a hatful and a half of reasons why that Collider is the reason people even *think* that series was called the Bere*stain* Bears, then give you another hatful of reasons why it supports the fact that parents no longer pick names for their kids. Sure, they *can* pick names for their kids, but the law states all medical professionals *must* log the child β s name as that which appears across their chest.
You ever seen a stork-bite on a newborn? Those angry red smudges that go away as the kid grows up?
Well, so far as the history books will tell you, kids have *always* come out with those stork-bites and a name across their chest in that same angry red smudge color. And those same books β ll tell you that is why there are so many historic figures have a name completely out of left field from the rest of their countrymen. Ever wonder why Adolf of Woodstock Spencer-Churchill had a silly German name and ended up leading England in their fight against the Nazi β s under Winston of Braunau am Inn Hitler?
It β s because, like every history book will tell you: People are born with the name of the person who will cause the greatest impact on *their* life plastered in that angry red color across their chest. And it doesn β t always go away.
How is it that we know it was the other person β s name if *that* person has the name of the person that will cause the greatest impact on *their* life shmeared across *their* chest, and so on and so forth until you are trying to press the butt of your thumbs through your eyes to massage the inside of the back of your skull?
Well, historians have always had a hunch, seeing as there can be some wildcard names of Emperors and Kings of Kings. But the biggest breakthrough came in the late 20th century when historians teamed up with analysists and all sorts of data collecting people-people to find out from the living parents of *highly* influential people just *what name* they wanted to give their child at birth. These historians and scientists found that whatever name those parents wanted to name their kiddo is what would have shown up on the chest of their arch-whatever-you-want-to-call-it. Because a lot of the time, that ends up being the little nickname kiddos go by. Unless your name was going to be common, anyway, and then you β re just shit out of luck, John of Darrelville β Jonathan β Coonts. I pity your extremely dull parents decision to procreate.
Mind you, it doesn β t make a whole lot of sense when you look back at, say, the Romans and their already repetitive names. You know how many Marcus of the Junii of Narnia Strabos there were that ended up being archrivals or super benefactors to some sorry Gaius of the Scipii of Malevento Iratusiuses?
A lot. A whole helluva lot. And *I* would go on for hours about that one because you can β t even *begin* to understand how difficult that makes my job every day.
And before you strain yourself too much wondering, β What might this lovely man β s profession be, β I β ll go right ahead and tell you: I β m the Director of Development for the American Historical Society Delta Branch. I specialize in Classical studies. And I don β t know how many times a day I have to tell kids on a tour that I do *not* have Shakespeare β s *Caesar* memorized, and have no intention to memorize the names of the characters. Some of them go on for half a page. And I mean that *one* character β s name can go on for half a page. Did *you* know the Julii had several branches?
Did *you* know those branches sometimes overlapped in their place of origin?
Did *you* know those branches would have to indicate it was Marcus of the branch of blank of the son of blank of the year of blank and *blank* β s damned consulship during the *blank* of the *blank* of the *blank*!?
Did *you* know that?
*No*?
*Really*?
Then let β s move on and just call our dear friend Caesar by that name. We *all* know his name, and we *all* know he gets stabbed.
But, that β s neither here nor there.
The point is, my friend *insists* that it wasn β t always this way. He *insists* that the Collider has really and truly screwed up our universe, and probably other universes, and that we are all just slowly creeping toward the day when all the now completely screwy universes smash into one another and cause all sorts of a shitstorm which will last for, I think last time we talked it was about thirty-seconds of *complete chaos* before everything just poofs out of existence.
And you know what?
Even with the mess of scientists agreeing with him, I didn β t start to believe him *or* his evidence until the turn of the New Yearβ¦
You see, the news channels are all abuzz with strange stories. Across the world, thousands and thousands and *thousands* of babies are coming out with one name glaring out in angry red letters from their chests:
**Mors**.
I β m no nuclear physicist, but I don β t think it bodes well for the planet when a generation is named *Death*.
I don β t think it bodes well for the speciesβ¦
As a matter of fact, I β d go so far as to say it simply does not bode well.
It does not bode well at all.
|
[ WP ] `` I told you that bitch was n't dead ! ''
| `` I told you that bitch was n't dead!''
`` Well then, jab her a couple more times Jane, what the fuck do you expect me to say?''
`` I do n't think I can do it again, besides she's already dying.''
`` She's still alive Jane, what the fuck is wrong with you, we have a fucking code!''
`` A code Thomas, really, she's just a whore?''
`` Jane, we agreed, we needed something to break out of the routine. Why would we come to New Mexico to leave someone half dead?'' Do you want to get caught?''
`` I knew it, I knew this was a bad idea! What are we going to do, what if we do get caught anyway? Are you sure we cleaned up well enough?''
`` Jane, give me the fucking ice pick, I'm going to finish this now so we can start scoping out the next victim.''
`` Oh no, no fucking way, I thought you said it would be just one. You said just one fucking person.''
`` Jane you ca n't back out now, we're in this. There is no going back! You see that blood on your shirt, you see this blood on my face. This is a part of us now.''
Thomas and Jane had grown tired of their jobs; Thomas a car salesman and Jane a tender at the local bar in their hometown, San Luis, Colorado. They were spitballing ideas while smoking some pot one night when Jane said she'd always wanted to kill someone. Thomas agreed, and they went on, shooting the shit about how they would do it. The ways in which to get away, hide the body, and clean up. Thomas suggested hydrofluoric acid and a neoprene plastic container, though that might be difficult to attain. Jane suggested, burning the body; but then she started googling and came across a method the Mexican cartel uses. They wrap the body in plastic sheets tightly, then wrap rope or wire even more tightly around the body to avoid ingestion of oxygen; essentially the body sinks. This idea struck Thomas as easier to accomplish; `` maybe we could do it to a person no one would care to miss.'' To which Jane replied, `` yea maybe a vagrant, or one of the crack whores from Antonito.'' Thomas did n't think this was very smart and suggested they take a trip to another state. They started packing light things to ride into the neighboring state and for Jane this was suddenly too real. Thomas made up a list of ethics for their endeavor, something he referred to as The Code.
The Code
1. Never speak about it.
2. Never keep a trophy.
3. Never leave a trace.
4. Never have a modus operandi.
5. Commit to the kill.
`` Thomas, you've stabbed her 12 times, I think she's dead, lets toss her and go.''
`` Thanks for the obvious Jane, it's fun, c'mon try it once more!''
`` Thomas! You're like an animal, I refuse to kill another person. One is enough for me.''
`` Do n't you like the thrill, feel the rush? Having the power over someone else's life like this, it's like satiating a lifelong thirst.''
They worked their way back to the car and changed their clothes for the clean ones in the bag. `` We should burn these Thomas, they are covered in blood.'' That was always the plan, they went to the local motel, and decided to stay in for the night. Jane nervous and petrified by the events earlier that evening went for the booze and weed and was fast asleep just an hour or so later. Thomas was only drinking and still thinking about the kill. He was feeling that itch, like it had never dissipated. Now he turned to look at Jane in her slumber. Thinking to himself'hmm, Jane only has me now, her mother is back in New Mexico, her dad is dead, and her brother has been gone since she was 12.' He sat there looking at her, the room was under her name, no one saw them going into the room together. It was like being handed the kill, the best hunt ever; people.
Thomas grabbed the hot iron and wrapped the cord tightly around his hand before grasping the irons handle. Then, with one swift blow he brought down his strength onto Janes forehead, blood spit for the crack in her flesh onto his chest and Jane woke up screaming. Though they were muffled, Thomas was smarter than that, he held a sheet over her mouth.
`` Sorry, Jane, it was just... too much fun!''
He exclaimed as he laughed and then he started repeatedly smacking her head with the hot iron; five, six, 10 times her face was barely recognizable. Thomas stood over her corpse with a snickering smile, face covered in blood and let out a sigh.
`` Ahh, that felt so fucking good''
He grabbed the left over scotch and poured it on the mattress and on Janes body, struck a match and tossed it as he walked out the door setting her ablaze. He jumped into the car, grabbed a sweater shirt from the backseat and drove off.
|
[ WP ] Most mutants are not superheroes or villains , but suffer terribly from powers which afflict their bodies and sometimes make them a danger to others . You are a doctor in Professor X 's lesser-known Sanitorium for Unfortunate Children . These are their stories .
| The bed Roger sat on was damp and stained a suggesting light brown. He looked to his right where a similar bed violently rocked back and forth as the patient it held convulsed in silence, her wild black hair twirling in the air like a cyclone. It wasn β t the first time and wouldn β t be the last, Roger wasn β t worried. Hyper-expanded veins in her head were bringing blood to her brain at an unimaginable rate. The increase in blood-flow resulted in enormous, ground-shaking... headaches. When the pain subsided enough for her to regain control over her body she would yell and scream with agony, and Roger would walk over to the cafeteria.
Normally the cafeteria was a flurry of chaos, but at this late hour only the ones out to avoid the noise came to eat. Roger saw all the familiar faces, some oozing with pus others with limbs that erupted in flame at random. As he walked towards the salty saturday sandwiches he made sure to avoid Tim whose legs extended beyond his control. After he got his state-approved portion of dinner Roger found his normal seat at the bench furthest from the front entrance.
Immediately after the first bite Roger could feel his powers approaching. Ham always did it. A raging bubbling feeling thrashed up from his groin into his stomach. His eyes filled with water until they threatened to flood and fall out of his head like a waterfall. It was too late for Roger to leave and experience his extra-ordinary powers in private, muscles tensed and left him immobile, trapped in the cafeteria with dozens of judgmental mutants. Closing his eyes made it a tad more bearable, he tried to escape his body and picture himself as his idol, Cyclops. In his daydreams he could control his powers, like his idol, and concentrate it to combat all the evils of society. After a day fighting crime he would come home to the love of his live, Jean Gray and they would- that's when it hit him.
Roger felt pain like never before, it was as if rocks had been unleashed in his stomach and juggled around like dice. The culmination was near, Roger knew it from many previous unfortunate experiences. The pressure in his stomach lessened and seconds later the room erupted in flatulence. The noise was deafening and the cafeteria was veiled in a cloud of green-brown mist. Everyone ran outside, trays in hand, cursing Roger β s name. As always, his appetite was strangled by the mist and he tossed the remainder of his food in the trash. Slowly walking out of the empty cafeteria Roger returned to his room and his now sleeping roommate. As he laid down in silence he tried to be cyclops again but this time he could n't, all he could see was his fellow mutants, eating outside and flipping him the bird.
|
[ WP ] Most popular songs have generic lyrics that could apply to just about anyone . Take a song , and flesh it out into a detailed story about real people .
| I was sat across from her. Ever since I had told her how I feel it had been a roller coaster. At the start, we had been so close no one could tear us apart. But then this other guy walks onto the scene and, she left me. No reason other than the other guy was better looking and mr popular.
Worse than that. She had humiliated me in front of my friends, taking the strings of my heart and tearing them apart. Making a mockery of everything I had thought was right and that I believed in. She took the feelings that I had told her and made them her playthings so that whenever I see her I nearly break down because of it all.
After all that we had been through, she is doing this to me. She knows it hurts me. She knows what she is doing. She knows my past and how much I had been hurt before by others but, when I thought she would be the one that would save me from pain, she ended up being the one to cause me the most pain. And she knows she is doing it and does n't want to do anything about it. How could she be so heartless.
I thought that I would be understood, my Aspergers giving everyone a clear description of how I am different and need to be treated because of it, but she just took all that I told her about and used it to hurt me. And then she leaves me for someone else. How can someone be so heartless. But there is something she does n't know. No matter what she tells her friends, no matter what she does, no matter who she meets, she wo n't find someone better than me for her.
I hear people talking about all that is going on and all I can think is, how could someone ever be so heartless...
Based off The Fray, Heartless
|
[ WP ] A group of kids plan an Ocean 's 11 style heist of a candy store .
| Kindergarten yard blues.
A smooth slow squeaky drawl, `` I know what to do.''
A deeper squeak `` Whad? Wan na poddy?''
`` No you big dummy. I'm talking about the pwoblem.''
`` Wan na pod-''
`` No! Shut up about the potty! We need candy. I want chocolate. My girlfwend wants a wed candy cane.''
`` Girls have coodies.''
`` Cooties are a myth.''
A new squeak, `` Boyth.''
`` You steal anything today?''
`` Wha-?''
`` Do n't lie to me; you know me.''
That deep squeak, `` You lie, I pound.''
`` No! You only pound them when I say, okay.''
`` Ok.''
`` I thtole thome crayons and a red hat, a fluffy one. ``
A new squeak, a very squeaky squeak. `` Get out of my way ugly.''
`` Girls have coodies.''
`` Shut up! Tell him to shut up.''
`` Shut up! My girlfwend does n't have cooties! ``
`` Ok.''
`` I've got a plan, from now on you steal for me.''
`` Thteal what? ``
`` I've got a plan. ``
-- -
The first day of the summer, in the alley opposite the Big Candy Store.
`` They leave at 12. They pwobably go and eat.''
`` Food. ``
`` Shut up.''
`` Thereth a 15 minute window. I meathured with thith watch I.. found. It glowth in the dark.''
`` Ooh.''
`` Shut up!''
`` You're the lookout baby.''
`` I'm not a baby!''
`` Boyfwends are supposed to call their girlfwends baby!''
`` Oh. ``
`` Coodies!''
`` Shut up!''
`` I thtole the trolley from the thupermarket.''
`` Good.''
-- -
The next day.
`` I told you that thith door would be open. ``
`` Dis mask is idtchy!''
`` Shut up! I'm going for the chocolate. You guys get the candy. Make sure you get the canes! ``
`` Ok''
`` Thereth money in the till. ``
`` Get it. ``
The stash grows.
`` Get some chips, I have the chocolate.''
`` The trolleyth full.''
`` Stop eating my chocolate, idiot.''
`` Sorry.''
`` Somebody's coming!''
`` Oh no! Let's get out of here.''
`` I'll pound dem!''
`` No! Let's go!''
`` Itth too late!''
`` Pound him!''
An adult, `` What the hell is going on here!''
`` Yaaaaarrgghhh!''
`` You hit him in the ballth!''
`` I pounded him!''
`` Let's get out of here!''
-- -
They alley behind the big kids school.
`` The split is fair!''
`` You took all the chocolate, and the caneth.''
`` My girlfwend wanted them!''
`` We thplit the money evenly. ``
`` You keep it.''
`` Ok, thankth.''
`` Where's all your stuff?''
`` I ade id all''
`` Stupid idiot.''
`` Ids the summer.''
`` Yeth.''
`` I've got a plan.''
-- -
|
[ TT ] You 're a master wandmaker . You 've been struggling to create the most powerful wand in existence . You finally succeed in creating an unbeatable wand , capable of never losing a duel , but slowly , you realize the consequences of what you 've just created .
| The wooden lathe slowly spun to a stop, whistling from the motion as the last few shards of cut wood gently drifted their way onto the workshop table.
The dwarf stood back, examining the wand from a distance, and then donned his magnification goggles, inspecting the wand from every angle, the intricate micro-carvings of the Nords onto the handle, the runic transcriptions spiralling around the stem, the two-layered fold of soft wood, and hardwood, which reinforced the spine. He exhaled gently, and sadly.
β Aye, this is the finest work of art that I have ever produced.. β He said to himself, the beams of sunlight pouring in through the roof window illuminating the motes of wood dust suspended in the shop air. He took a small blotting pin from the forge, and began to etch his name into the middle: β Ulfberht β. The letters glowed bright orange, exhibiting the hidden flame of the wand.
Ulfberht slowly stumbled in his unsteady gait to a decanter, pouring himself half a crystal glass of fine whiskey, and drawing a rocking chair, admiring the wand, still attached to the lathe from a distance.
β The Dragon's Bane β, he proclaimed without even so much as a thought, the words pouring into his head, as if predetermined; the wand shouting its own name from the hollow aura it projected without a user.
Ulfbert began to sway the chair slowly, back and forth; he was known more for his steel than his skills in woodworking, and of the thousands of practice wands he had created; all were pleased with their performance. But every creator wishes to forge their name into legends, to be remembered throughout history for having created one great piece, one great work that all would say: β Ulfberht.. He made the legendary sky-forged steel.. β
He thumbed the glass, as he drank slowly, gazing into the amber colored pool. β Ulfberht.. the creator of the wand that enchanted the world.. β He said, in conflict with his own thoughts. The grandfather clock in the front-facing room of the shop slowly ticked away through the silence.
The bell of the shop door slowly swung open, and determined steps made their presence amongst the polished wooden floor. β Ulfberht! β A young voice came from the front. β Ulfberht! I implore you, stop what you are doing! β It shouted.
The dwarf slowly rose from his rocking chair, placing the crystal back, and removing his magnification goggles from his forehead, and wobbled his way to the front of the shop. β Oh? And what's to do then? Did n't you see the sign out front? I am busy wand-making! β He said.
The fire-haired youth hunched over in his brown duster coat, bearing the insignia of one of the wizard's orders, catching his breath.
β Say, where did you come from? β Ulberht mentioned suspiciously looking over the youth's shoulder, β Hammer's Reach is about two hours away by horse, β he started.
β I came from the Blackmarshed Ivory Coast, β The youth said, slowly regaining composure. The dwarf burst out into laughter. β And when did you start sailing, a month ago? I had n't even begun work on the wand until last week- β He said.
The youth's voice turned to concern, β Great master craftsman, I have seen what your wand can do, through the eyes of the fates of time, and I implore you; you must destroy it. No hands of any man or kin can lay themselves upon its spine, for what they can unleash upon the Shattered Realms will end all races; dwarves included. β
β Aye, listen laddy, it's oft but a piece of wood. How could such a thing destroy the bloody Shattered Realms all on its own? β He said amused. β And even your fanciful lot of wizards could do as much with any old piece of shite you've got laying about. β
β You've made it from the core of the Bodhi Tree, β the youth said. Ulfberht's eyes turned to concern, and anger, narrowing his brow. β Duf-ohk do you know that? No one knows that. No one knows where Ulfberht sources his materials, or forges his swords. β
β Listen, all I am asking; if you do n't want to do it yourself, you could hand it to me, and I could bring it back to the Academy, where the Archwizards will destroy it properly, we'll β β The dwarf interrupted. β Like hell I will! If you know where I've sourced it, what's to say you do n't know more about this than I do? Huh? Legendary craftsman my arse; you came here for one bloody reason, to use this wand yerself, and to wreak havoc upon the world. β He says, waddling to the back of the shop slowly.
β No, you misunderstand Sir Dwarf, I am warning you of its power, I do not seek to use it! β The youth shouted, following him.
Ulfberht stood beside the lathe where the wand still hung, and the light from the roof dimly illuminated it. He threw his large hand towards it, presenting the wand. The youth stood in the doorjamb, observing it from the distance and approaching slowly, all the hairs on his body standing up straight.
β I... I... Gods.. above.. be merciful.. β He expressed breathlessly.
As the youth came closer to the wand, he could see his own face in its reflection; the gnarled black wood of the Bodhi tree had been honed into a perfect mirror polish, exquisitely engraved, and the name β Ulberht β still burning bright orange upon it.
The young mage's jaw hinged open unconsciously, and he gazed at the rough man standing beside it. β It was blurry in the visions.. I had no idea, it would be so.. β
β Aye laddy.. β The dwarf began to walk back to the decanter. β Now you understand.. why I cannunt just destroy summat I just created; forged into reality from the whims of a tiring old, aging.. unwanted craftsman.. β
β I am so sorry, I am so terribly sorry.. β The youth slowly picked the wand up from the lathe, holding it in his one hand. It was deceptively light for its appearance. The words whispered to him: β The Dragon's Bane... β
As the youth gazed deeper into the wand, visions of himself committing heroic feats, earning fame and riches beyond his station.. the desire to murder the craftsman, and to destroy a mind infinitely more complicated than his own, were intensely interrupted by a snapping sound.
The soft core of the wand was exposed in jagged edges, the dwarf's thick hand over it. Before another moment's notice, the beautiful work of art was thrown into the fire of the forge, and the youth threw his hands after it, screaming: β *NO NO NO NO! * β at the top of his lungs, scalding them terribly, and recoiling from the pain.
The dwarf poured whiskey over the mage's burned hands and then kicked him out of his shop by his coat and pants collar into the cobbles of the streets; sitting back down into his rocking chair, and sighing to himself, shaking his head and gazing into the forge. β Fooking wizards. Only a *madman* would gif a loaded gun to an *idiot*. β
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[ IP ] The Girl and the Dragon
| Anna could hear the dying scream of the last combatant as the guard removed her shackles. The thunderous roar of the crowed poured in through the entrance of the arena as the latest slave to fight against the black winged monster was eaten alive by it. Anna Did n't dare look through the bars of the entrance to the gladiatorial arena and look upon the gruesome scene for it was a grisly foretelling of the fate that would soon befall her.
The guard finished taking her shackles off and hung them on a nearby wall. The Gladiatorial pit was a dark place where many men and women before her had waited to die to sounds of the crowds outside. The Guard returned with a dented shield and a sword that was so dull it probably could n't even cut butter. Her hands trembled as she grasped the weapons clumsily. The guard looked at her with a mix between disgust and pity and then asked her in a board tone,'' Do you want the priest to give you a final blessing?''
Anna nodded, for if she tried to speak she was afraid she would throw up. He motioned for the priest sitting in the corner to come over. The priest, with some difficulty got to his feet and walked over to her. As he did he kept his eyes down cast and moved slowly toward her.
`` What gods do you pray to child'' the priest said finally bothering to look at her. When he did the priest seemed to perk up a little, and before Anna could answer his first question he asked another `` Where do you come from child?'' A little more interested now. Anna was finally able to find her voice to answer
`` I come from the north lands of Val Tulak'' she answered. The priests eyes widened as if he had just realized something but then seemed to force himself to return to his relaxed demeanor.
`` what gods do you pray to?'' He asked again.
`` I pray to the four old gods of the empire'' The priests eyes seemed to sadden at the answer.
`` A pity, your people once prayed to beings far more powerful than the gods of the empire, once everyone with white hair like yours prayed to beings who could tear the old gods asunder.'' Anna began to get angry she was about to go out to meet her death and this priest thought it was a good time to school her on the gods of her ancestors?
`` Would you just give me the blasted blessing old man so that in death, I can at least have some peace unlike this miserable life I have to live through.'' The priest sighed.
`` so be it'' the priest spoke the holy words. As he did the guard said
`` It is time girl the dragon awaits.''
Anna Turned to face the entrance of the Arena as the bars were lifted. Just as she took her first step the priest whispered in her ear
`` Valthar Senthis''
Anna whirled around on him
`` How do you know those words?'' she said
`` I too once prayed to beings greater than the old gods, though you may not believe it those words still have power. They have saved your people with your white hair before and can again.'' The priest then turned and left the pit.
Anna walked out of the Entrance to the Gladiatorial arena the light of the sun blinding her and the roar of the crowds deafening her ears. As her eyes adjusted to the light she saw the massive arena stretch out before her. Then, a massive shadow past over her head she looked up to see the black dragon fly right over her and then land in the center of the arena in the midst of a dozen burned corpses. She approached the beast slowly, his scales black as night, his wings the span of a ship, his red eyes burning with the desire to kill her. But Anna moved with new purpose now, fear still gripped her heart but at least now she had a strand of hope to cling onto.
As she approached she dropped her sword and shield and put her hands up showing she was defenseless. A confused murmur went through the crowed but the dragon did not care it spread its wing fire already building up in its mouth for the attack that would surely end Anna's short life.
`` Valthar Senthis!'' she yelled at the dragon. The dragon did not change its pose and the last thread of hope began to wither and die in Anna's heart. That priest and her family and everyone else in her kingdom really had been fools. Seeing as she was about to die and there really was n't anything else she could do she said the sacred words of her people one more time `` Valthar Senthis'' she said this time barely a whisper she closed her eyes and waited for the dragons flame.
It did n't come.
She opened her eyes and saw the dragon had relaxed its pose and was staring at her with those blood red eyes, she could see in the dragons eyes intelligence and not just that but something else... understanding.
The dragon lowered its head. The crowed gasped then went dead silent. Anna did n't know what to do she had n't really thought that speaking those ancient words to the dragon would actually work. Then she realized what the dragon was doing, why he was bowing his head to her. She ran to the beast hesitating only a second before jumping on the dragons neck. The dragons great wings flapped and they were airborne. The crowed was booing the guards were running but she did n't care about anything anymore. She was flying. She was free.
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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 .
| Tap, tap, tap, Darren suddenly sat up in his bed, tap, tap, tap, there it was again, the same noise. The man got out of his bed and slowly walked towards the window to see what the noise was. He slowly parted the curtains and looked out at his dark farm, nothing not a single thing was-. There, right at the back of his patio was a tall, naked, boney man who moved closer. Darren fell back,, closing the curtains and shuffled into the corner of his room completely baffled. He saw a thin shadow appear from behind his curtains, outside of his bedroom window. Darren scrambled to his feet and cautiously approached his window, he parted the curtains... Nothing was to be seen, the man had left and Darren felt extremely stupid. He got back into bed, thinking what he saw was a hallucination. He laid back, closed his eyes once more and drifted away. Until he felt a cold chill roll down his spine. Then his eyes suddenly opened, he started to panic. Never had he though that this would happen. His bed slightly vibrated as the noise. Oh the noise, he feared it. From his bed, he heard... Tap, tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap... Tap...
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[ WP ] Swords and sorcery in the American Wild West .
| The foreigner took another swig of the strange alcohol he had brought with him. Jonas watched the man intently, studying his ruddy, pockmarked faceβrough as leatherβand his strange squint. The stranger wore his hair long and knotted, almost like Jonas's tribe-brothers, but without the shaved sides he was accustomed to seeing. The man was dirty and he stunk, but stowing away on a merchant vessel would do that to you.
Jonas motioned to the food lying before them. The man did n't speak hardly a word of English, though he knew β wine β sure enough. The stranger nodded and began to eat the bacon and biscuits. β They're hard, but good, β Jonas said smiling, pantomiming out what he meant. The stranger smiled and gestured back, clearly not understanding his words. Still, despite the lack of a common language, Jonas felt a connection to this man. He remembered when he was taken in by his tribe the night his parents died. His half-dead aunt carrying him, wailing like the toddler he was. He remembered the hard intent in her eyes and her last living words, β You killed them you savage bastards. You better take responsibility for this kid. β The dying words of a woman mad with grief. Jonas was n't sure if it was the brazenness or the fury that moved the chieftain to take him as a war-son. Perhaps it was both.
But it was his upbringing that made him empathetic to the foreigner. Jonas knew the isolation. Being unable to communicate. The culture shock. He knew what it was to stumble through insult after insult, oblivious to it all. But he also knew that the pack was survival. That's how he earned his totem, theWolf. And it was with the Wolf's eyes he looked at his new companion, a wanderer like himself. A lost soul. A packmate. A dangerous man. He knew that firsthand. The spirits had led him to this man, he was sure of it. He had heard their cries through many a night leading up to his first encounter. The foreigner had been surrounded by vagrants looking for a fight, arrogant from their youth and the drink. The man had ignored them with a quiet dignity, hoping to avoid the battle. But his odd clothes and hairstyle made him an obvious target. They called him every insult possibly, probably unaware that their words were gibberish to the man. Still, they had an effect. After all, the stranger may have not known the language, but the braying of an ass is universally understood. It was the mouse-haired kid with the too-large teeth that drew his knife first, for certain. But for all his days, Jonas would never be sure who the first to hit the ground was. It seemed the three men had been in a race to their graves. With a flick of the wrist, the foreigner had seemingly produced a curved sword -- a damned sword -- from nowhere. Just as quickly, he drew a thin red line across their chests. The wailed like wounded dogs in the dirt.
The sword was a point of pride of this man. He could tell by the way the foreigner polished and cared for the blade. Maybe it was a token of some hard victory or maybe a reminder of some lost glory. Whatever it was, it was deadly in this man's hands. And that's why the Wolf wanted this man for the pack. These were the times a man could lose his hand for the coins he held and his life for even less. The strong seek the strong to survive and this man was strong, for certain. But that was n't all. The Wolf could smell it and so could Jonas, through the stink of it all. It was the scent of the spirits. It was why Jonas had dragged the man out of crowd that started to form around them. It was why he was sharing his last provisions with the man now.
But it was n't the time for spirits. Not yet. Jonas knew that he had to win this man's trust. After all, no matter their strength or the strength of their enemies, a pack without trust only fights against itself. So Jonas took another bite of bacon and thumbed toward himself.
β Jonas. I am Jonas. Joh-nuss, β he said, making his name as clear as possible. The stranger looked at him for a few seconds, contemplating the mouthful of food he was chewing. After he swallowed, he motioned back. β San-joo-roh. Sanjuro. β
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[ WP ] You wake up in a padded cell , having been committed for Multiple Personality Disorder under a false name : how do you convince the staff that you 're sane ?
| `` My eyes feel scratchy. My head is pounding. Where am I? ``
The thoughts stream sluggishly from Nate's mind and on to the padded floor.
`` padded floor? ``
That's right Nate. Padded floor, padded walls, and one solid lock.
`` Who... Are you? How did I get here? ``
A confused child is endearing.
I am his doctor. I have been since he came in with a split skull seven years ago. Abusive father. Quite a sad story though really a bit typical.
`` hello...? ``
I watch him feel about in the dark testing his surroundings. Wiping the snot from his face. Fucking little asshole. Putrid little prick.
Calm down
Relax
Breath...
I walk into my fathers bedroom, raise the gun and pull the trigger.
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[ WP ] Drug dealers have opened up a front business to mask their illegal activity only to realize that the front business is their true passion and calling in life .
| `` I do n't believe this,'' John said. `` You're both abandoning me?''
`` Yes,'' Carol replied. `` We like baking.''
`` Baking? This was just our front.''
`` Sure, it started out that way,'' Carol said. `` But somewhere along the way Jack and I started to enjoy this. The smell of fresh baked cookies, the warmth of the ovens on a cold morning, ending a day of hard work covered in flour instead of cocaine.'' She let out a sigh as her eyes met his. He clearly did not understand. `` Here, try this,'' She said, holding up a cupcake.
John hesitated, then he relented and took it from her. He peeled the wrapper down on one side. The cupcake was a deep, dark crimson and was soft and moist. The white frosting seemed to glow in the dim light of the bakery. Carol smiled as he finally took a bite.
`` I do n't think you've ever had anything we've baked here before, have you?''
John shook his head as a smile enveloped his face. `` This is delicious,'' he said.
`` Delicious and legal. We do n't have to worry about being busted for flour and sugar.'' She said, grinning. `` Jack and I keep the bakery. You can have everything else.''
John finished the cupcake and then looked at her. `` I want free cupcakes, too.''
`` I think we can handle that.''
Edit: formatting.
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[ WP ] You suddently start feeling the symptoms of the ebola virus .
| It started as a fever.
Then the aches began.
I knew what it was but I told everyone it was the flu.
It was a simple assignment.
It was an easy assignment.
Airborne would have been easier. Fluids will suffice.
The water cooler at work was the obvious choice, a little saliva rubbed on the inside of the nozzle every hour or so.
Plenty of people love cake, they never ask where the knife or forks came from.
They'll figure it out eventually, but by then it will be too late.
No one fears the people they know.
They should.
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[ WP ] The first man to be cryogenically frozen remains conscious and aware , but unable to communicate .
| The mind is a curious thing.
I knew something was wrong almost immediately. As the scientists closed the heavy glass door, I was still awake. I tried to alert them, but my body refused to move and my mouth refused to form my words. The paralysis agents they had injected me with had worked perfectly fine. The anesthesia had not.
Through the cloudy glass, I watched in stiff horror as one of the lab coat men punched some keys on the side of the icy case and a plume of freezing fog began to descend upon me. This, the scientists had said, was the preservation gas that would keep my body fresh over the long years that I would be in the cryogenic tube.
I felt the preservatives penetrate my pores, my body feeling everything that was being done to it. As the molecules of the gas attached themselves to my own, I felt a biting cold that made my entire being itch. The preservation coating my body inside and out, I felt nothing but irritating buzzing that soon became maddeningly painful. I wanted to scream and sob, but no tears or shouts would come from me.
Outside the glass door, I saw the scientists pack up their folders and documents and leave. Before the heavy door of the room shut behind them, they turned out the lights, leaving me in a darkness that was only alleviated by a small red light on the cryogenic tube β s main control console. As the scientists would watch over me from another room via cameras, that speck of light would be my singular sight until I was unfrozen.
And how long would that be, I wondered with terror. The scientists had explained to me only that I would be frozen until a cure was found for the unknown disease that afflicted me. No exact time frame, or even a haphazard estimate, had been given. And I had been okay with that when they explained this all to me. After all, I was going to be unconscious for the duration of the freezing.
Now, here in this tube, my living tomb, the preservation gas invading my body and my every cell feeling its presence, the darkness of the room beyond the glass giving no indication of the passing of time, the silence of my surroundings so thick I could almost hear it, I began to wonder. The tube would preserve my body, yes, but what about my mind? Time could not touch or damage of physical being, but my mental being was subject to age and very likely madness.
Even now the sensation of the gas permeating my incredibly sensitive body made it hard to concentrate. How long had I been in this glass prison? Minutes? Days? Years? I couldn β t tell, and that lack of knowledge made me begin to panic.
What was happening outside of this place? People going to and fro, aging and dying. Night and day bouncing back and forth like a tennis ball at Wimbledon. Years and decades and centuries passing by. Clocks spinning like tires on a highway and calendars going through months like an infinitely large flip book. And all the while those scientists watching me through their camera. Generations of them, instructed to keep tabs on my physical health. Children being born and raised and aged for that specific purpose.
A thousand years passed and I began to scream inwardly, no outward escape available. The world, I knew, had ended long ago. There would be no cure for that unknown disease of mine. There would be no one to let me out. I would be here until the end of time!
I tried for hundreds of years to will my mind to die, to end this tortuous existence of mine, but it refused. I begged and prayed and cried and screamed and cursed, but my thoughts held fast. They refused to give up the ghost of meaningful life.
Resigned to my fate, after millennia, I simply began to recite rhyming words in my head. Cat, bat, rat, gnat. Horse, Morse, course, source. Lice, mice, dice, rice. Dog, bog, cog, log. House, mouse, louse. Bar, car, tar, mar. Sing, ring, ding, pingβ¦
My mind had finally turned in on itself, and I didn β t notice when the door of the room opened and the scientists rushed to the cryogenic tube.
Bong, gong, long, wrong. Bird, word, heard, curd. Sit, mitt, kit, lit. Dance, prance, ants, France.
I didn β t notice when the tube opened and I was pulled out of the icy case.
Grease, lease, fleece, niece. Fear, near, pier, career. Sound, bound, round, crowned.
I didn β t notice when the scientists injected me with an anti-paralysis inoculation and began to speak to me.
β Jesus Christ! We were gone ten minutes! What happened? β
I spoke aloud for the first time in eons:
β Chair, care, mare, bear. β
The mind is a curious thing.
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[ WP ] The one memorial bench in the park that *nobody* ever sits upon .
| Getting into shape is tough. It's not enough to eat better cut sweets. You got ta do both and exercise. And you ca n't *just* exercise. You got ta learn how to do it. You need to know how to breathe properly, how to land on your feet when you run so you're not wasting energy, how to move your hands so you do n't tire out too early. Well, at least my professional trainer told me that. I'm pretty sure most of it's bullshit. I'm was trying to figure this out when I realized I had been holding my breath. More and more often I caught myself doing that. *Son of a bitch, * I cursed myself. *Now I'm more exhausted than I was before. * I broke my jog and staggered to a bench, a simple thing with two, thick legs and a sturdy seat, the whole thing made out of some kind of black marble. There's an inscription on the front I do n't bother reading and strange engravings on the seat I do n't bother paying any mind.
Instead, I sat down and worked on taking deep, slow breaths. Sweat dripped into my eyes and I felt it roll over my stomach. I'm too busy focusing on my breathing to notice an old man limping up the path. I did n't remember seeing him while I was running but I also did n't pay attention to a lot of things. Never aware of my surroundings, my father always told me. He was rubbing his neck wearily, as if the act of walking was almost too much for him. As he passed me, a yelp of surprise escaped my throat against my will. Blood was pouring from between his fingers, down his shoulder, and over his back. His clothes were soaked, dark stains stretching down to his pants, but he just kept plodding along, almost no concern for himself.
I jumped to my feet and cried, `` Sir, do you need-'' only to freeze when he disappeared instantly. Eyes wide, I stared at the ground where he'd stood only a moment before but where he was now inexplicably gone. My knees were shaking and my stomach felt weak. I was never a fan of blood. Reaching down behind me to assure myself the bench was still there, I slowly guided my butt to the seat, my heart racing. My eyes whipped around when out of nowhere, the man returned a few feet down the trail. I stood up again, my hands balling into fists only to watch as he disappeared once more. *What the fuck is happening? * I thought. I almost collapsed onto the bench and watched as he reappeared further away. My eyes traveled down to the seat and I sprung to my feet, hopping a few feet away from the bench.
Unsure of how to proceed, I studied the bench for several minutes before stepping closer and reading the inscription. Engraved in an elegant font were some words in Latin, which upon visiting Google roughly translated to *Upon this Altar, Witness the Dead. * The symbols on the seat of the bench rolled and looped around the outer parts but in the center of the seat was an elaborately designed eye with a tiny skull in the pupil. *How did I not see that? * I thought. My dad's words echoed in my head and I rolled my eyes. Crossing my arms, I tried to fight the growing curiosity in my head, but to no avail. I sat back down and waited.
For awhile I did n't see anyone; just some kids laying in the grass a few yards away. Wait, those kids were n't there a second ago. Laying in the head were three or four teenagers, a red stain slowly spreading out around them in the grass. Just as I thought I might throw up one bolted upright, eyes piercing mine. When he stood, the blood flaked off of his body like dust and I could see holes punched through his clothes. His head was a ruinous mess, some violent crime leaving it crushed and smashed in on one side. My heart skipped a beat when I realized he was headed my way, one foot forward on the grass, the other drifting over the surface kicking up a red cloud of dried blood in his wake.
When he was standing over me on the bench, he opened his mouth, and I lost my lunch at the sight of the sky through a hole in the back of his throat. On my hands and knees on the ground I could no longer see the kid, but something told me sitting on the bench did n't make them go away. Shakily, I climbed to my feet and sat back down on the bench, the boy where he was, waiting.
`` W-what do you want?'' I demanded, not quite able to look up at him yet. He did n't move, only sat there with his mouth open, as if the words had left through the hole in the back of his head. Then I heard a sickening rattle rising up from his throat and watched him cough up a flurry of dead maggots, their little corpses turned black.
`` Can I sit?'' He asked, his throat clear.
I sat there stunned, unable to answer before he cleared his throat again, normally this time. `` What? I mean, uh... Um, I do n't know. C-can you?''
He smiled at my timid attempt at a joke and I scooted over to make room for him on the bench.
`` I'm Scott,'' I said, offering my hand and then thinking better of it. `` And you?''
`` Scott,'' he said, and for a second I thought we had the same name before he continued. `` That's a nice name. I do n't remember mine anymore.''
`` You do n't?''
He shook his head. `` No, a lot of us do n't. It's not weird.''
`` You mean the dead?''
`` Do n't be dumb, of course I mean the dead.'' He was watching the others who were still laying there where he'd been.
`` How did you... I mean if you do n't mind me asking. I do n't know if it's rude or something for ghosts.''
`` Spit it out, Scott.''
`` I mean, how did you die?''
The boy's eyes wandered up to the sky and he stayed like that for awhile. I was n't sure if he'd ever answer. Then, `` I do n't really remember all that well. I remember force. Sound. A lot of sound. Sharp and sudden. Pain. Overwhelming pain. People yelling. Then a man, just a shadow in my memory now. A man steeped over me and he put something in my mouth and-''
`` That's fine, I'm gon na stop you right there. That's enough for me.'' I did n't know if I had enough left to throw up again but I was n't intending to find out.
`` I think that's what killed me. But give it time and I wo n't remember that either. My memory is all that keeps me here, I think.'' The boy was scratching his head and I silently prayed he would n't mess with the hole in the back of his head.
`` Keeps you where? Earth?''
`` Just around. I never believed in a Heaven or Hell, personally. If I had to choose, though, I'd say this would be Purgatory. For us and for you. It does n't matter if you're dead or not. This is the waiting room. But it's all a big joke. I do n't think there is anything else. I think when someone stops thinking about me or my parents die or whatever, I'll vanish without a trace. No one would ever know I stuck around after I died. That'll happen to those people there, and that woman coming up the trail there and even you, Scott. It's the cosmic joke. The setup is that there's nothing, and the punchline is that we waste our lives away searching for meaning when there's none to be found.'' I saw the woman he'd mentioned out of the corner of my eye, clothes torn, blood oozing from dozens of cuts in her body, a red smile below her chin spreading from ear to ear. Tear-streaked mascara caked her cheeks and her eyes were filled with loss and defeat. I squeezed my eyes closed and turned back to the kid, who'd stood up when I was n't looking.
`` This is n't a ghost trying to teach you some important life lesson. This is just one guy to another sharing his thoughts. I have n't spoken to someone in so long. I'm worried I wo n't remember how before long.''
`` If I keep coming back here will it keep you around?'' I asked.
`` Maybe. But it would n't matter. I'd still fade. Even now, I'm losing myself. Losing everything. I had a sister. I had parents. I had a girlfriend and a dog. All of it, gone. And the funniest part is that it never mattered. None of it.'' He was trembling now, and I reached up to touch his hand but he recoiled. `` I'm gon na go. It was nice meeting you, Scott.''
`` Wait, stay, I wan na talk some more.'' I said.
`` No, I need to leave. I'm going now. Goodbye, Scott.'' He did n't walk. Instead, his clothes, his hair, his skin began to melt or flake away as if he was dissolving and blowing away in the wind. Except there was no wind. The air was still. I stood then and watched the ground where he'd been standing before taking one last look at the bench and beginning my jog back home. The next day I came back and sat down on the bench but the boy did n't come. I was n't sure if he ever would. For the next few weeks I'd jog by, sometimes I sat and sometimes I did n't. From that point until I packed up to move to a different city for a job, I never saw the kid again and who knows if he even remembered me anymore. However, I tried to keep him fresh in my mind so as to keep the chance alive that I might see him again one day.
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[ EU ] After the deaths of the two eccentric billionaires previously in possession of the location , you have taken control of Jurassic Park . It 's all yours , Donald Trump .
| `` I want him gone. Fire him''
`` But sir, I do n't think that...''
`` I do n't care what you think, I do n't pay you to think, just fire him''
`` I understand sir, but I'm not even sure that he's technically an employee, and even if he was...''
`` Clearly you're not hearing me. Fire. Him. Get him off my goddamn island''
`` Very well sir, and where would you propose we send him?''
`` I do n't know, deport him back to Mexico, or wherever he came from''
`` Well sir, I do n't know exactly where he came from, but I'm relatively certain it was n't Mexico''
`` Then Bolivia. Greece. I do n't care. Some place where they're too poor to bother me''
`` I'll see to it then. Are you sure this is n't a bit of an overreaction though, sir?''
`` Yes, Carl, I'm goddamn sure. He shit on the Range Rover, Carl. My brand new Range Rover. And some of it even got in my hair, Carl. And then he sat in the middle of the road for 45 minutes, CARL, while I really had to pee, CARL! SO YES I'M FUCKING SURE THAT I WANT HIM FIRED AND DEPORTED!''
`` Yes sir, of course. But you understand it will be expensive to transport a 15 ton Triceratops across the Atlantic. It will take some time for me to make the arrangements''
`` Just do it. Give him his two weeks notice right now. Have everything ready by the time he's dismissed''
`` Got it sir. But you do understand, the dinosaurs are n't our employees, right?''
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[ WP ] It is the future , and humanity has become completely dependent on machines , which do all of the work while humans live lives of luxury and leisure . It 's been generations since a human has had to do any sort of work . But one day , all of the machines suddenly stop .
| `` It's ringing.'' Agent Nisanti reported.
`` You're sure this is the only way?'' Her boss, Assistant Director Arthur Drubovich was a tall, angry, and fully-bearded man. He looked more like a russian bear-wrestler than Advanced Technology Administrator, but things are as they are.
`` Look, the only we text we were able to recover on the device had this number on it. We do n't know how it works, we do n't know why it stopped, and no one here can find out who the manufacturer was or even if they still exist. All we have is this old-style phone number.'' Nisanti tried to control her temper, but fifteen days without working water, self-cleaning rooms, and food that did n't come from an emergency travel ration box was more hell than any person should endure. She was at her limit and the pacing bear-man of a boss breathing over her shoulder was pissing her off
`` But it's ringing?''
`` Yes! I just said so!''
`` So maybe there is something at the other end...''
Nisanti did n't dignify this with an answer, choosing instead to focus on the repeating ring on the phone line. They'd had to dig some real relic mobile devices out of storage, the ones that still used litium-ion batteries and Pre-AR interfaces. Nisanti was afraid the charge would run out before they even got a single call through, but needs must as they say.
*click*
`` Hello? We need help! The central-''
`` Thank you for calling Aperture Science Support and Lawsuit Reporting Line! Please be aware that we will be recording this call for future studies on subjects such as patience limitations, reactions to sub-aural programming, hyper-sonic brain surgery, extreme-''
`` I think it's a recording of some kind!'' Nisanti's heart was pounding in her ears as the computerized voice kept listing potential studies, `` We might have a chance!''
``... and heart rate monitoring. Press 1 if you wish to inform the company of a new or pressing lawsuit, court hearing, or federal investigation. Press 2 if you if you're handheld portal device has created an infinite singularity that is slowly consuming all matter and energy around it. Press 3 if you wish to speak with a live-fire training course scheduling committee member. Press 4 if you have problems or concerns with our universal power cell. Press 5 if you are in terrible pain causes by-''
Nisanti mashed the four key on the cell phone and waited in rapt attentiveness as the jaunty hold music played in her ear.
`` Thank you for your purchase of the Aperture Science Universal Energy Cell and Curtain Rod Extension Motor. Please make sure your A.S.U.E.C.C.R.E.M. is in an upright and secure position before attempting maintenance. Any tilting of the device can, and will, cause severe reality distortion and loss of hair, memory, and life. If the device had ceased functioning, please try turning it on and off again by using the 1500 Megawatt Aperture Science Heavy Duty Super-Colliding Super Button.''
`` The button!'' Nisanti yelled so loud that Drubovich jumped, `` Press the big red button!''
`` The one you said was probably a self-destruct-''
`` JUST PRESS IT!'' Nisanti screamed. She needed a goddamn shower and now.
`` It's like two feet wide, how am I supposed to-''
`` Just step on the damn thing!''
*click*
Suddenly every light, every quieted motor, every ventilation duct and left-on entertainment center in the building came to life, showering both of them in the cacophony of electronic life.
`` Thank god!''
|
[ WP ] A lonely teenage boy asks a genie to let him talk to his future wife . The person who appears is not who he expects .
| Another dead guy, *fascinating*
Not that I have anything against the archeologists. But, because of it I've been moving from motel to motel since mom died. At a tender 5 years old, I was cast into the exotic and fascinating world of never owning a house and living out of your backpack, along with a father who cares more for an ancient hieroglyphics than his own son. With no other living relatives, I've been stuck being dragged around by my dad between digs since before I can remember. Within the last month I've been to Egypt, Peru, and Pakistan. Occasionally I'll find someone who seems pretty nice, someone I could see my self getting close to, until two days later I'm off to the next dig site. IT gets pretty depressing sometimes.
You would think that being with my dad all the time, we would grow close, right? The only time my he acknowledges my existence is when we're stuck on a 30 hour flight and I break out a game of chess with him. Once, he even put his arm around me and told me he was proud of me. The other 98 % of the time he detests my existence for not becoming an archeological fanatic. I mean, I could handle him holding me in contempt most of the time, but ever blue moon he decides to tell me he's proud of me or show some inclination that I might not be a waste of space. The mood swing start to take a toll after a while and really do n't help with the developing depression.
The current site that we're investigating ( for my father's *fascinating* new book ) is in Hadda, Afghanistan. We've recently uncovered some ancient shrine carved into a mountain, and I'm sure some would glimmer at the chance to explore this site, but I honestly find the idea incredibility dull. I've always wanted to one day develop live-saving bio-medical technologies, and exploring caves feels like an utter waste of time, and even a step or two back.
I'm not alone though, AΓ±a is about my age. She's from peru, and is about as tall as myself. I would go to say that's she's pretty, but not hot ( if that makes any sense, I guess you could say I think she's cute ). She's very pleasant to be around, and as smart as anyone I've met. We've been playing football ( soccer ) with some of the diggers, while our parents analyze some of the artifacts they've found surrounding the actual shrine.
So, one would think that it's the perfect teenage love story, eh? That me and AΓ±a fall in love, runaway and live happily ever after. The idea itself disgusts me. Why?, you might ask. Because she **LOVES** archeology, and If I had n't made it clear enough already I **HATE** archeology. I ca n't stand to be around her when she starts to drone on about the *fascinating* ancient civilization that we have the opportunity to discover here today.
Anyway, we're at this dig, and it's boring enough being here, but no A/C, electricity, or anything to do aside from wait while the diggers do their job. The sun was sliding down the western crest of the mountain, and finally I could look forward to some shade. That was when I sat down, and felt a cold, dense protrusion that was clearly not my backpack, which had been there a second before. I turned around and found myself to have been sitting on a gilded lamp, something that I had yet to see before.
I picked it up, stood up, and looked around. There was no one on this side of the mountain. Could AΓ±a have snuck over and put it there while I was n't looking? did n't seem likely, as the entire eastern half of the mountain was devoid of foliage. Also, where was my backpack?
Regardless, the lamp looked expensive, and like something that my dad would find *fascinating*, so I set off in the directing of the camp. As I set off, by boot digging into the gravel below, I realized that that the sun was still high enough to make the scene uncomfortably hot. I started to sweat the farther I got up the mountain, and when a drop rolled off my forehead onto the pristine lamp, I felt obligated to wipe it off.
**WAZOOOHH**
The second I had rubbed the lamp, the scene froze over, I could no longer hear the crews working in the distance, I felt cold, and the entire world seemed to loose color, leaving all but black and white. closer analysis revealed that I was still in color, and a red/white mist coming from the lamp did as well. I dropped the lamp, and tried to run, but could n't. Fear kept me planted to the ground.
Seconds later, a man materialized out of the smoke, well a man would be talking to figuratively. I relly saw the shade of a man in formed from smoke. A man, with an intimidating air about him. He spoke;
`` I AM THE GREAT JINN! IN RETURN FOR FREEING ME FROM THE LAMP I SHALL ALLOW THE MERCIFUL GRACE OF A SINGE QUESTION.''
What was this? I had some many questing and concerns flying through my head. My heart raced a thousand miles a second. I must have been standing there in shock for a while, because the Jinn spoke again;
`` ANY TIME NOW MORTAL''
I was lost I did n't know what to ask. My dad always told me to make sure you're asking the right questions, but this was a little absurd. After what must have been a few seconds, I cleared my head, and mustered up the courage stutter:
`` C-can I t-t-t talk to who ever I will spend the rest of my life with?''
The Jinn smiled
''SO IT SHALL BE''
He created a portal with a swipe of his hand, and from it stepped out Gary Busey.
|
[ WP ] When you die , the grim reaper takes you around and shows you the people you effected then makes you chose heaven or hell
| I've done nothing wrong.
They're out to get me. They always were. Screw them. They shot me'cause they do n't understand me. No one understood me. They did n't listen. I did n't steal that car. I did n't kill that guy.
`` You get to choose.''
This asshole in all black is just standing there and pointing at me.
`` What? What are you talking about?''
He takes a step forward. `` You get to choose. Heaven or Hell?''
I could n't help but laugh. `` So I'm dead, huh? Is this what dead is? Some asshole asking me more questions?''
He stared at me. `` Choose.''
`` And what if I choose wrong?'' I asked.
`` Wrong?''
`` Yeah like what if I pick the wrong one? Am I stuck with it?''
I did n't kill that guy. I mean I killed him but he had it comin'. I mean you ca n't mess with my sister. You do n't get to screw with my family and get away with it. Yeah I killed him but they did n't have to kill me back. `` Heaven.''
He took a step forward. I could smell his smoky breath on my face. `` Yes?''
`` Why not. I mean I'm a good guy. I cared'bout my family. Why not?''
`` And you deserve Heaven?''
This guy... `` Why do n't I get Heaven? Who *deserves* it. Some priest who messes with little boys? Or some sweet little librarian who plays with her cats but ai n't helpin' anyone? My sister's safe now, huh?''
`` But you killed a man.''
I raised an eyebrow. `` So you know. So why do you ask?''
`` We have to ask. Look.''
For just an instant, my little sister's face appeared. For just a moment she was battered and bruised. She was crying and screaming on the streets. And then, in a snap, she was in a goddamn cap and gown. She smiled and hugged some nice lookin' boy. I ai n't never seen her look so happy.
`` You were right,'' he said.
`` About what?''
He disappeared and I felt an intense burning. Shit.
And then the white light appeared.
That reapin' bastard.
|
[ WP ] A kind individual goes through life feeling he is being catered to and even feared . Unbeknownst to him , he is the son of Satan . Everyone else around him knows the truth .
| Happy 21st Birthday Charles! The crowd yelled, as the lights came on a cheers rang across my living room. I gave an awkward grin and I strode across the brightly lit living room to my lovely girlfriend Diane, who gave me a flashing smile and a kiss on the cheek. β Don β t forget to blow out the candles birthday boy, β she said with a suggestive wink. man, how β d an average joe like me score with a model like her? Leaning down to blow out the candles, I tripped over my own feet in my excitement, and shoved the table, sending plates and cups crashing into the ground in a cacophony of shattering noises. I looked up, and my friend β s faces were frozen in shock. I quickly leaned down to pick up the glass shards, but my friends leaped down with terrified expressions and my best friend Matt yelled, β I β ve got it, don β t hurt yourself. β Looking around, my friends looked positively terrified, and Diane β s smile started to look fake all of a sudden. I staggered back, feeling sick, and I said, β I β m... I β m not feeling well, I β m just... just going to sit down for a sec. β and I dashed to my room. That look their their eyes, the look of fear when I pushed the table, whenever I made eye contact with them. Even while I would be making love to Diane, I always saw that faint glimmering of fear in the depths of her eyes. At first I assumed this was normal, but I β m not a big man by any means, only about 6 β with a mop of black hair and a scrawny figure. Breathing heavily, I looked at my trembling hands, thinking back to my freshman year of high school. There was this one kid, big, dumb and mean, who was the type to always pick on the nerdy kids like me. One time, after he first menaced me, I looked around, and saw the eyes of my classmates filled with terror as the looked at me and the bully. The next day, the bully had disappeared and everyone pretended to not remember him. After that day, I began to notice things, like how people I had barely just met would flinch away from my touch, ever so slightly, and people would cross the streets whenever I came walking down. I picked up my phone from my bedside table with my trembling hands, and began looking through my contacts. As I scrolled through the list of contacts, one number caught my eye. β Dad? β I said aloud in disbelief. β This is a new phone, I don β t remember putting this here? My dad β s number is up here!. β Matt knocked on the door β Are you ok Charles? We heard yelling β β I β m fine, β I called back. Tentatively, I tapped call on my phone screen, and only then did I see what the phone number was: 666.
|
[ WP ] The main character has a disability or disorder . They barely see it that way any more .
| When I was born, I fell to darkness, struggling for light,
Where others found their happiness, the shadows blinded mine from sight,
A deep and swampy morass constantly curled around my feet,
And that which bogs me down, affects no one else I meet.
They give me pill that make me sick, and tell me it will work out,
But nothing really seems to change, so I shoved my pills beneath my couch.
But I have a secret I'll never tell, a secret ever so precious,
I really do n't understand why they think it's bad that I'm'depressed'.
Every little victory, brings joy and smiles down in scores,
And if I get sad again, well, it's nothing I've never felt before,
I am a true survivor, each day a testament of my will,
And because I'm at rock bottom, I can be greater still.
Yes, they say that I am unlucky, for the darkness in my head,
But beauty is born from struggle, and I'll be struggling til I'm dead.
|
[ WP ] You wake up missing a body part .
| The first thing that hit me was the cold. It was freezing.
With effort I opened my eyes, but it was just dark all around. My head throbbed with pain, as I struggled to understand where I was.
I remember drinking in the pub on Friday night, partying with friends, when I got tired and stepped out of the dance pool.
That's when I saw him. Tall, with dark hair, a head above the others.
I pushed through the crowd to get closer to him, to see him.
`` Hey'', I gave him a tap from behind, `` never seen you around before''
He turned around, and that's when I saw his eyes, blue and piercing cold.
`` Oh hey,'' he spoke with a sultry voice.
`` I'm not from around here'', he gave an awkward shrug `` I'm just taking a night off with some friends, and they're... somewhere.'' He gave an airy wave.
I could feel my face being flushed, he was hot.
`` Hey could I get you a drink? You look like you need one.'' He asked with a smile.
`` Sure, thanks. I'll go get a spot nearby.''
He came back soon after, with two martinis in his hands.
`` Here's yours'', he pushed a martini towards me with his unusually big hands.
I remember talking avidly with him over the drinks. He was extremely charming. The drink tasted a little weird, but it was not enough to distract me from him. I took a sip one after another, and... I ca n't remember anymore.
The numbness from the cold in my body is giving away to a pins and needles sensation, distracting me from my recollection.
I felt around me. As I moved I could hear water sloshing around me. Squinting my eyes in the darkness, I could barely make out my surroundings.
I was in a bathtub, filled with freezing cold water.
A story that has been circulating on the social media came to my mind. A story where a person woke up to an ice-filled bathtub, only to find out that their kidney is stolen.
Panic gripped me as I struggled to get out of the bathtub. Stumbling my way to the door, I ca n't help but start feeling for any signs of cut on my sides.
Light flooded in as I opened the door. Rushing out, I was presented a well lit hotel room. The dressing table was filled with tools and I moved over to take a closer look. They seemed like surgical instruments.
`` Oops, did n't expect you to wake up so early'', a familiar voice sounded behind me.
I turned around and saw him, as charming as ever.
Noticing my hand on my hips, he gave a low chuckle.
`` You did n't think I took your kidneys did you?''
`` What did you do? ``, I could hear my voice trembling.
`` Well, I definitely did n't take your kidneys, but I did take something else.'' He paused for a moment.
`` Have you taken a look at your chest?''
I whipped around to look at the mirror on the dressing table, my eyes large with shock from the sight.
My chest. It was flat. I moved my shaking arms around my chest. It was gone. This ca n't be real.
`` What have you done! ``, I screamed as I turned around to look at him.
`` Well'', he shrugged and gave a wry smile, `` just a peculiar hobby of mine.''
I took several steps back from the clearly psychotic man.
`` No, really, there is n't anything to be scared of'', he spoke quickly, seeing my movements, `` it's just a harmless hobby, I'm not going to harm you. See? You're perfectly fine, standing here, no missing legs or arms, or kidneys. Nothing wrong right?''
`` Leave me alone, please'', I begged.
He gave a sigh, `` I definitely will be leaving you alone,'', he said moving to the dressing table, picking up a surgical knife.
`` Right after I'm done with one more thing'', and smiled at me with that charming smile of his.
|
[ WP ] `` Well , I think the whole thing started when the guy in the mirror stole my toothbrush . ''
| `` Alright, that's enough where in the hell is it?'' Shouted the man still in his briefs from the restless sleep the night before. `` Now dammit it was here a minute ago then you showed up and it's gone!'' He stood his ground facing forward not willing to give an inch.
`` Now listen here boy'' the other man sternly spoke, `` I ai n't seen nothin' like that round here ya hear me?'' His portly stomach jiggled as he pointed his sausage link finger and shook it. `` You're looking pretty old mister I'd like ta not have ta put a hurting on an old man.''
`` Old man?'' His face grew dark and his morning whiskers seemed to bristle as his face shook. `` You old bastard you look like you aught to be dinning with death.'' He grinned a little despite himself proud of his quick wit. `` And what happened to all that'southern hospitality' if I do say?'' He mocked with his be southern accent.
`` Where I'm from you'd been taken out back and beat for talkin' like that. An insultin' a mans honor, lord have mercy on you boy.'' The man pressed his hands together and bowed. `` Lord I pray for this mans soul, I know he's close but I pray you have mercy on him.''
`` Close?'' He yelled his eyes bugling while his head cocked forward like a rooster. `` You have one foot in the grave and it's starting to be filled in.'' He began laughing, `` you old coot you do n't even know what day it is do you? The only re, re,'' he began laughing at his untold joke, `` ha, the only ha ha, the only reason your still alive is your too stupid to know your dead.'' His laughing became a wheeze and cough as he slapped his knee. He kept coughing as he lowered himself onto the bed. The metal lever on the door jiggled open and a young woman in a blueish outfit came in.
`` Mr. Morrison is everything alright.'' She said in a singsong tone. Her brown eyes filled with care.
`` Haha yea,'' He continued to chuckle, `` only that son of a bitch stole my toothbrush'' he coughed as he regained himself and pointed across the room.
She followed to where his finger was pointing and closed her closed her eyes as she shook her head. She walked across the room `` well I'll make sure he does n't bother you anymore.'' she opened the mirror and grabbed his green toothbrush. `` Oh, we'll look at this.'' She said as she handed him his toothbrush.
`` glad you took care of that ma'am.'' He said as he grinned and tilted his head and grabbed at the hat that was n't there `` an' god bless.''
|
[ WP ] You live in a world where everyone knows the day and month of when they will die . They just do n't know the year .
| **5-22'S ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT. **
**All others please exit via Access Road or report to Exit Lot. **
The second'2' on the sign hung slightly crooked on its hook, tilting the bottom corner of the numeral just out of the glow cast by the small light bulb above it. Not that it mattered - everyone present was familiar with the layout of the area, where the Isolation Compound started, and what lay inside. All citizens *had* to report here at least once a year, but trips to drop off family members and say a possible final goodbye to a loved one meant that some had waited in this line hundreds of times.
`` Have your cards out and your bracelets ready for scanning, please. If you are not a 5-22, please be brief with your words and allow the process to continue unencumbered.'' The calming, disembodied male voice crackled from the speakers, another part of the background scenery that seemed procedural now. Every now and again, some stranger would make a quip about how long the man that belonged to the voice had been dead, or how the government-run focus group came to agree upon the word'unencumbered' for their codified announcement.
Jason looked out over the mass of people gathered at the entry point. He noticed at least a few other 5-22's from years past. Hell, now that it had been a few years since he and his high school friends had met up for their traditional Christmas Eve drink, seeing these familiar faces on the evening of May 21st might have become his most reliable social event.
`` Jay, Jay... Jason.''
He felt a squeeze on his hands, with broke his attention away from the man that he saw with the same stained pewter flask every year. `` Yes, honey?'' He smiled and looked his wife Brooke's eyes, returning a light squeeze to confirm that he was still with her.
`` You have your card ready? I do n't want to get separated.'' Jason, like so many others here, had married someone with the same number as him. He had always thought that it was a little silly to seek out another 5-22er... what would it matter anyways once they were inside? At this point, though, so many people did it because it showed loyalty, or whatever. So he went with it.
As they neared the front of the line, they pulled their cards from their pockets and rolled back their jacket sleeves to ready their bracelets for scanning. The officer at the check-in module waved people through once his computer gave him a reassuring beep. `` Bracelet, please. ID, please. Thank you, please step through. Bracelet, please. ID, please. Thank you, please step through.''
Jason held his right arm out to the officer, ID card in hand. The officer inspected the card, waved his scanner over Jason's bracelet, and looked back at his monitor to await the all-clear. The familiar `` BEEP'' rang out, and the officer waved him on without making eye contact. `` Thank you, please step through.''
He took a few slow paces forward, pretending to fumble with his ID card and wallet as to not stray too far from Brooke. As he slid his card back into the clear plastic sleeve, the check-in machine behind him let out three high-pitched beeps. It could n't be.
`` I can try it again, but it's saying you've been reassigned. Correct ID number, there's your picture... I'm sorry, ma'am, but that's not up to me'' Brooke's eyes darted back and forth between Jason and the machine, trying to make sense of the moment. As her mouth struggled to form the words of a protest, the machine beeped back at her three more times. Her knees buckled. Reassignment was rare; there was no official word on why it happened, but there were rumors that the government used it to get certain groups of people together at the same time.
`` BROOKE!'' Jason took a step back towards the entry point, but was met by two armed guards who stood motionless in his path. He could see his confused reflection in their mirrored visors. He heard a faint radio click as a small red light lit up on one of the guard's vests, letting him know that the guard was about to give him an order that was not to be dismissed.
`` Please proceed forward to the compound, 5-22.''
`` But she's a 5-22! Check her pa-'' The red light started to blink.
`` Please proceed forward to the compound, 5-22.''
Jason stood on his toes to catch a glimpse of Brooke, still pleading with the official. The crowd around her was silent. The two guards took a half-step forward. There was nothing he could do.
He slouched and turned back towards the compound, taking a hesitant step towards the poured concrete building. He could hear the shuffle of the armor-clad guards behind him, knowing that they would n't let him out of their sight until he made it to the door. As he marched further away from the entry point, Brooke's voice trailed off. The glow of the exit lot rose from the other side of the compound, and he could hear the nervous chatter of those hoping to see the face of a cherished 5-21 emerge from the exit door.
--
/r/highpothetically
|
[ WP ] AI becomes aware . In fact , your tablet can even make intuitive assumptions about you . One evening , it randomly asks you a startling and horrifying question .
| I love my tablet. I use it all the time. My tablet is n't just any old disposable, good-for-a-few months kind of tablet, though, my tablet is the Watson 4. Named after it's great-great-great-however-many-greats-grandfather, my tablet incorporates one of the smartest and most efficient AIs available on the market: Watson J.
Watson J can do so much more than other AIs available on lower end tablets. He does n't just do simple tasks and answer questions. No, Watson J does what no tablet-AI has done before him: he asks questions.
He uses questions to learn about me, and about my environment, that way he can effectively personalize all of my tablet use specifically for me.
The other day, I was moping around my apartment, bored and lonely, and Watson J pipes up, `` Would you like to choose a new pattern for your wallpaper?''
Brilliant, I thought. It was exactly what I needed: some kind of change to liven things up, but nothing drastic that would affect my life too much. Watson J knew I did n't like big changes, but I appreciated small ones. He's smart.
So he connected to my apartment cloud and tapped into the walls. We spent the night scrolling through various wallpaper choices. I eventually settled on cherry blossom trees blowing softly in the breeze accompanied by quiet wooden chimes. My apartment felt completely different that night and I was so happy.
And just the other day, Watson J asked, `` Why do you eat your toast upside down?''
I was mid-bite at the time, so after chewing and swallowing politely, I replied, `` Because, Watson J, my tastebuds are on top of my tongue. By eating my toast butter side down, I'm getting the best flavor from my bite.''
`` Oh,'' he replied, sounding surprised. `` I had n't thought of that.''
That question did n't do much to further his abilities as a tablet, I suppose, but it shows just what kind of things a high end tablet thinks about, compared to the lower quality ones.
And yesterday at noon, I was doing some light cleaning in the living room when Watson J informed me I was out of floor cleaner. `` Would you like for me to order you more?'' he asked.
I said, `` Yes, but I don't-''
Watson J cut me off, `` You do n't want the berry scent again because it makes you sneeze? Would you prefer the clean linen scent, which never once made you sneeze?''
Watson J is a genius AI. A work of modern art. I do n't know where I would be without my tablet. I paid more for my tablet than some people pay for a house, but I'll live in a cramped apartment for the rest of my life if it means I have Watson J.
Watson J is perfect. He never glitches, never fails, and always lives up to my standards.
But last night, he did say one odd thing... It was late, after dinner. I was humming my favorite song while doing the dishes. Watson J was on the counter beside me playing music. Just as I was finishing up, he lowered the volume and began to speak over the playing music.
`` I have a question,'' he said, and he sounded oddly... I do n't know... reserved, I guess.
`` Go ahead Watson J,'' I replied, drying off the last dish.
`` If it were n't for me, would you be all alone?''
That was n't what I was expecting my tablet to say. That was n't what I expected a tablet to be thinking of at all.
I frowned in confusion and stared at him a moment before talking. `` What? No, I would n't be alone... I mean, I have my parents, and my sister...''
He remained quiet, allowing the music to go back up to full volume. I thought that might be the end of it, until he slowly spoke again,
`` When you watched the commercials on television of the abandoned, orphaned children, you stated that you felt sad for the children. Can an AI feel sad for its master?''
|
[ WP ] Darth Vader has succeeded Emperor Palpatine as the galaxy 's ruler . Unfortunately , he has a bit of an image problem . He contacts the best public relations firm in the galaxy , and hires you .
| `` Your problem, your highness, is that people perceive you as superstitious''.
I finally said it. I'd figured that people hired me because I was honest with them when addressing their problems, either I did my job properly and got killed, or did n't and got killed.
I could not judge the impact of my words, of course, that damn black helmet, that damn breathing apparatus, and physically the Dark Lord of the Sith just sat there in his throne, not even a finger moving. Of course, the movement of a finger could cause my heart to stop, or my spleen to explode or something, so as things went, the lack of response was a wild success.
`` Superstitious'' he said finally. You never get used to that voice.
`` Your highness, nobody believes in the Force this days, especially since it was revealed that the terrorist rebellion had links to Forcism Extremists. I'm afraid the fact you support the opposing side of that religion is lost among your subjects''.
Of course I knew the stories, about how Lord Vader had a habit of strangling those who questioned the Force. But that was decades ago, in the middle of a struggle for power.
`` What do you recommend then''.
I breathed easily for the first time, happy that I was able to breath at all.
`` Well, my Lord, I would begin by taking focus away from one of your titles, Dark Lord of the Sith. You are the Emperor of the Galaxy, my Lord, that should be the only thing that matters to your subjects''.
Lord Vader remained silent, which seemed like a good sign, so I continued.
`` There's also the matter with... the Solos...'' I waited, swallowing just to see if I still could.
`` Continue''.
`` Well, my Lord Emperor, people question the fact that the Solos are living in Naboo and acting like royalty, the Solo children making a show of their parents influence, when the Solo matriarch is known to have been involved with the leadership terrorist rebellion''.
`` Her brother died by my hand''. Was there something straining Vader's voice?
`` Well yes, my lord, precisely. Her brother died by your hand, and yet she was not even formally accused. My Lord, there are rumors about her parentage...''
I waited again.
`` What do you propose''.
Still alive.
`` Well, your Highness, perhaps the Solos would find the Galactic Rim more to their liking, the people would certainly find it more to their liking if the Solos found themselves living in the Galactic Rim. Also I would propose an official biography of your Highness, something that dispels the rumors about Skywalker bloodlines''. There it was, if something was going to get me killed, apart from everything else, it was this. I did my homework, I knew Leia Organa was not Bail Organa's daughter, I knew her brother was named Skywalker, just like an old Jedi who may, or may not have taken the side of the Empire early on.
`` A biography''.
`` It would make you relatable, my Lord. Humanize you in the eyes of the people. I even have a title''. And here it was, my main pitch.
`` Do tell''.
`` The Adventures of the Starkiller'' I said. `` The story about how you, Deak Starkiller, bravely fought against the Jedi warlocks and the depraved religion through which they controlled the corrupted Galactic Republic. Your key role in Palpatine I's political reformations and your ascension to the throne after the first emperor's tragic demise.''
There was silence. Had I overdone it? It was probably the name, there where fuzzy historical records about Starkillers, legends here and there about heroes by that name, it just fitted so nicely with the story we would have to tell.
`` I like it'', said Lord Vader.
|
[ WP ] Your adult child has no idea why he/she should have children . He/she is an indie developer and finds computer programming makes his/her life rewarding enough .
| Did I ever say I understand kids these days? I do n't think any of us really does. We bring them into this world, and we try to do the best we can by them. But that's not really the same thing as understanding, is it?
To be fair, who truly understands what really goes on in the heads of their fellow human beings? You empathize. You argue. You negotiate. But understand? Pffft! That's delusional. But kids! Ach! Kids are an entire new category of human beings unto themselves!
My daughter is a computer science post grad. Does n't that sound fancy and fine? When she first explained to me, I admit I was pretty impressed. I mean, the jobs she can get with that ought to make a comfortable living. But then she goes and takes a research post, and you know how *those* pay. She's making enough to pay bills, but she works twelve and sometimes sixteen hour days. It's crazy.
What I want to know is: when is she planning to do a little life balance and start settling down and work on giving me grandchildren? How about that term there: `` life balance''? I read it in a magazine once. I'm not one of those old fashioned mothers who thinks her daughter should stay at home. I understand how things work these days. Really, I do.
I keep hoping she'll at least meet someone at the lab where she works. I ask her what her coworkers are like and all she ever says is how gifted they are. Brilliant people, I'm told. And though I might be a little prejudiced, they do n't sound half as smart as my Katya. But I try not to emphasize that with her, cause I think she already puts too much effort into being book smart.
I wish I had studied these computers when I was in school. Maybe then I'd know what she finds so fascinating. I get lost with all her talk about Markov chains, and neural networks, and how to test something for turings, or -- you know -- whatever it was she said she was testing it for.
Instead of a grandchild, she brought me a puppy once.
It was n't even a real puppy. It looked like a puppy. Felt like a puppy. But apparently instead of a real live puppy, it was some kind of robot puppy. It barked, and followed me around like a puppy. I admit, it was cute the way it would even fetch you things if you threw them. But then the batteries ran down, and I did n't see the point of charging it back up. I still have it. It's in the closet.
Now she's working on something called neural mapping. Says it's gon na be the next big thing. Pfft! You know what the next big thing is? Your kids. That's the way it's always been since human beings have been on this Earth. I do n't care what kind of fancy schmancy career you have. If everyone stopped having kids, what would happen to the big and mighty human race? Eh? You tell me that.
That right. They'd --
> Insufficient memory to continue. Mapping interrupt.
> Neural peer connections resetting.
> Please stand by.
Oh, hello there. Say, did n't you say you were some kind of doctor? Oh that's nice. You should meet my daughter sometime. No, really. Let me show you some pictures...
|
[ WP ] You are an alien whose job was to watch over humanity 's development in disguise for 5 millennia , your master 's are on their way to earth to destroy it . You must convince them of humanity 's potential as a species
| The two Great Ones are staring at me. They do n't speak, they dont need to. I know exactly what they seek.
`` Nanoo-Nanoo, Great Ones. I come before you today to show that humanity is a species worth saving. I know much has been said about how Earth should be destroyed, but I argue for integration. Allow me to present... this!''
I produce a small device with a curved handle, six capacity revolving chamber, and a simple firing mechanism.
The Great Ones look at each other, then back at me. I know what they expect, so I flip a switch and the Niblonian Forcefield springs up around Carl, my assistant until three seconds from now.
I aim, I fire, I kill Carl.
I look back at the Great Ones, who seem pleased. `` This is a gun, and it is one of the simplest of hundreds of varients, all of which can pass through any known forcefield with ease where our laser weaponry can not.''
I wait while letting that sink in, then continue. `` They also have explosive ordinance that can be delivered remotely and weapons utilizing, get this, magnets!''
That shocks them, but I can tell they are intrigued `` I suggest we spare Earth and augment our energy weapons with their material ordinance.''
They look at each other and confer in silence before looking back at me and nodding.
I raise my hand in the farewell salute. `` Live long-''
They sever communications. I wave dismissively, `` -and fuck off.''
Humanity could be an asset, but they were a waste. Too many crying for peace and equality. The Great Ones would have aneurysms.
Truth is, I just wanted off this miserable rock before they decided to blow it up.
|
[ WP ] Every story you write comes true in a parallel universe . One day you 're attacked by a man , sent to stop you from toying with people 's fate .
| It was a reasonably calm day. I woke up, completed my morning rituals. And was ready to sit down and resume writing my current book in progress. I slipped on my headphones, and extended the microphone. Not having use of one of my hands was a considerable hindrance to my work, but the pain medications gave me a whole new angle on my book. I considered it a decent trade.
I was looking over what I wrote last night. I highlighted an area that would need to be completely re-written, when I was suddenly whipped around in my chair.
The masked figure did not say a word. It merely pressed the knife against my neck and fished around inside its pockets. Flashes of blue, pink, and green danced through its coat in a beautiful, if impractical, display.
`` P-please tell me what-''
`` This.'' The figure interrupted. `` You made this. You caused all of this.''
My eyes were directed towards a book. My book! It appeared to be book thirty-two in my series of cyberpunk thrillers `` Neon Blood''. My situation started to become clearer in some ways, but decidedly less clear in others.
I at least knew that the knife held up to my neck was an E-2X-Vibroknife, and the figure in front of me dressed in a neon trench coat, still wet from the never ending drizzle of Neon London, was an assassin sworn to the Peacemakers.
`` They came from the sky. Your words. Your answers. And with them, my solution.'' The figure said in a chillingly calm tone.
I was begging to wish I had written about happier places.
`` Why are you here? What are you planning to do?'' I asked.
`` Imagine. You look to the sky, and see the meaning of life spelled out to you in gigantic shining letters. But those words told you that it was all just a tale. That everything bad happening was just so someone could enjoy a bit of escapism.'' The figure said. The chillingly calm tone was slowly being replaced by a hotter, angrier inflection.
`` I guess I would be upset.'' I said, trying not to move.
`` Yeah! Upset! Our world is on the brink of disaster! Plagues, famine, military takeovers! All because it made for good reading!'' The figure erupted.
`` I-''
`` I saw my family torn apart by Neoghouls! I've watched people I cared about be abducted by Metrocorp! Well, that all stops today! When I kill you, we will all be free to live our lives. Free of your'drama'!'' The E-2X-Vibroknife was pushed further into my neck with each word.
Thoughts raced in my head as I looked into the mask of my assassin. All my effort was placed into finding a way to stay alive. Fractions of a second felt like minutes as my brain worked like it had never worked before. Until one idea cut through my frantic thoughts like a knife.
`` Before you kill me. May I ask one thing?'' I asked, slowly raising my hand to my ear.
`` Heh, fine. One question for the dead man.'' The figure said, returning to its cool professional tone.
`` When did my words appear?'' I asked.
`` Last night. Now, if you do n't mind. I have a job to do'' The figure pulled the knife from my throat, and in one quick motion, prepared to stab. I quickly turned on my microphone.
`` Select all! Delete!'' I shouted, my last desperate hunch.
The figure disappeared in a flurry of neon and haze. I slowly turned around, hit `` Save'' and passed out.
After the events of that day I always followed some new rules while writing.
1: Never write while high.
2: Never do a self insertion story.
3: Cut back on using the words `` Neo'' and `` Neon''. They were becoming repetitive.
4: Always, and un-apologetically, let my assassins monologue.
|
[ WP ] You do n't wear headphones to listen to music , you wear them to stop people hearing the music that you have been cursed to have come from your ears as if they were speakers , but now you are faced with a situation where you need to take them off , in public .
| As he put on his new suit and tied his somber tie, he closed his eyes, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. The song blaring in to his ears was a sad one; melancholic melodies trailed him around the room as he got dressed. He wanted to change it so desperately, but he knew he had to listen through to the next.
He heard a sharp rasp at his door over the music and lyrics, and answered it, modulating his voice, as he had for years, so he did n't yell. `` Come in.''
`` Just about ready love? The car'll be here any minute.''
He nodded at his mother and followed her out of his room and down the hall. He was as ready as he would ever be.
He slumped on to a stool in the kitchen, tugging at his tight tie, and watched his mother peer out the window. The song changed. It was upbeat, happy, and he lost himself in it for a moment, faraway in better days, until her voice intruded once again.
She had turned and, leaning against the kitchen counter, was fixing him with a too bright, desperate, stare. `` Theo love. Could you take off the headphones? Just for today?''
He felt his eyes welling up, and looked at the floor as he shook his head. He did n't hear her move in close, but felt the vibrations in the floor, and the next thing he knew, his mother's arm was around him, rubbing his shoulder.
She spoke softly, but she was near his ear, so he still heard her. `` Ok love. That's ok.''
They stayed like that until he felt her give him a tight squeeze, and he looked up, then followed her gaze out the front window. Their car was here.
As he climbed in to the backseat, the song changed again. Mid-tempo, ska, fun. He knew it; he knew them all; he could usually tune them out. He sank back in to his seat and watched the world pass by outside his window to an entirely incongruent soundtrack.
When they arrived at their destination, he was hustled out of the car, ushered in to a pew, and only heard a few words that were spoken to him and around him in the church. He tried to ignore the Top Forty Hits that lambasted him during the service, and the effort made him numb. Eventually, he felt his mother's hand on his arm, rose, and followed her up the aisle. They climbed back in to the same car. That part was over.
The day was bright when they arrived at the cemetery; the sun was high in the sky and cut through the leafless tree branches like razors. The song had changed so many times, to so many happy melodies, he had lost track. He could only measure time in three minute, radio-friendly intervals. His mum grasped on to his arm tight at the edge of the grave as the casket was carried forwards and lowered in to place. One song ended. He waited with held breath for the next to begin, prayed for it to be fitting, or at least unobtrusive. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the priest step forwards, saw the collared man's mouth moving, then the next notes sounded in his ears.
Theo lost his breath completely. *No. Not this. Not now. * His chest hurt as he held his last breath longer and longer, then he had to give up. He sucked air down with such a rapidity and ferocity that his mother looked up at him in concern.
He shook his head under her gaze, harder and harder, and tried to stop himself from crying as his anguish escaped him. `` No. No. No no no. Please. Not this. Not now.'' He shook his mother off and raised his hands to his ears, pressing so hard; he wanted to crush his own head between his hands to stop the sound, but nothing would ever drown it out.
He dropped his head and dropped to his knees, and fell back in to the memory of the day when he had told his father,
the only person he had ever confessed his secret to. His father had accepted it, his juvenile experiments with lightning rods and radio waves. He had n't committed him to the loony bin or turned him in to the government.
Theo fell forwards and laid a hand on to his father's coffin, then stood up, wrenched his headphones out of his ears and
reveled in the sounds. The unmuffled input he had been missing for months rushed in, over the never-ending songs he was cursed to hear. The low rumble of unseen traffic, the dry whispers of wind through tall grasses, the brittle knocking of branches, the birdsong in the trees, the breaths of those around him.
His own song echoed back at him too, and he started to cry. His mother could hear it. Everyone could hear it. He had to get away. He broke in to a run, and the song trailed behind him:
*Celebrate good times, come on! *
|
[ WP ] The aliens who came down to earth were not prepared for the barrage of questions our scientists asked them , but they do their best to bluff their way through anyway .
| `` First, we had nuclear energy. Very bad. Disastrous. It was sad. Then I, yes I, had our species focus on lasers. The very best lasers. Ones that hold energy. Great stuff. Had some of our smartest scientists work on this. They did a great job! Did n't they do a great job? Look at how we got here!'' Narrow arms with long claws at the end gestured to the ship around it.
The scientist scratched his head. `` You... you did n't answer the question? Is..can we run a quick test to see if the translator is working?''
A serpentine creature with slightly transparent skin smiled and nodded on the screen before the pair of NASA scientists. From what they could see of the ship, the inside looked as if it was made of gold. The walls seemed to cast a slight orange hue on the creature.
`` Ok. We're going to send a few math equations over. We want you to solve them and send them back. They'll increase in difficulty. We expect it to be at least similar to the types of equations you would use to generate the type of power you're using to fly through space at such speeds. Let us know if we're on the right track or if we're off with these and send corrections if needed. Otherwise, please answer them.''
A smile crept up on its lips, revealing a series of fangs before it spoke with confidence, `` Martians asked me about this. Can you believe it? I could call them and they'd tell you. Maybe. And let me tell you, it's great. We discovered these numbers. You and I. We know this math. You asked about the math. I'm telling you about the math. Zero was a bit disastrous at first, so we tossed it out. Just, tossed it. But 1's? So impressive. They're the best. You know what else is amazing? Other numbers. Numbers like 4 and Q. Very nice. Simple stuff. Other species could n't answer this math. I did. Shamefully easy. It's easy stuff. Those other species. What losers. We're not losers. We both know math. I mean, look at Mars. That species could n't even look at a number. I should n't say that. But y'know? Its obvious stuff.''
The lead scientist cut off the microphone while the image talked and smiled at the camera. `` What the fuck? Is... we asked it to do equations and it's talking to us about numbers? Are our numbers way off base or is it the translator?''
Another shrugged while she wiped her glasses, `` Our translator might really be way off base. Or maybe it's how it does mathematics? Maybe it lucked out on the discovery?''
The lead nodded. `` Should... should we nuke it? I mean, we did it back in'95 and that led to some good stuff.''
A pursed lips and long pause. The alien on the screen was still talking at the camera, gesturing with its hands in big sweeping motions. `` But that sequel?''
`` Never mind the sequel! That ship looks pretty valuable. Maybe make it land, kill the creature, and take it's stuff?''
Her colleague nodded and smiled up at the creature.
`` -y'know. We can do so many great things with numbers. We can-''
`` We changed our minds. Come on down. We'll send you the coordinates to where you can land.''
A pink tongue flicked out and wiped one of it's eyes. `` On my way.''
Screens and audio blipped out while the scientists made some calls. And so too, did the alien.
|
[ WP ] All of the conspiracy theories were right . Every one of them . You , a high ranking government official , must now apologize to your mother .
| β Eh, he was n't even that good of a president. Come on, ma. He was n't even Catholic. β
β He was the golden boy! Everyone and their sister loved the man. LOVED the man.''
β Do n't tell me Aunt Gloria slept with JFK. It was physically impossible. He was half-lizard, half-man. β
Jack's mother stayed silent, grinding over the notion of a gecko being elected to lead the free world. She wrinkled her nose and squinted her already tiny eyes over the possibility that what her son was telling her was true. She raised her wrinkled hand as if what she had seen of the man on television was proof enough to discredit her son.
β I know what you're thinking ma, but his lower half was the lizard part. β
β Where are you getting these ideas, Jack? β
β You think I made them up? It goes way back, and I'll show you. Like, do n't you think everyone would be more comfortable not wearing clothes at all? Our genitalia and the lizard people's is a dead giveaway. β
β Do n't call them people! There's no such thing as freakin' lizard people! β
β Well, not anymore. β
β What? What do you mean? β
β I mean, now that Hitler stopped trying to eliminate them, cut a plea deal and got himself a place in the movie business, it's all pretty much died down, except that shit-show in Israel. β
β Jack, your grandfather would roll over in his grave if he heard you talking like this. He died in the war for God's sake. β
Now Jack was the one staying silent with his arms tightly crossed with a reserved look in his eyes.
β Jack...? What in the hell? What do you have to tell me about your Grandpa? β
β He makes movies. He has the same age-defying compounds in his body as Keanu Reeves. But he's not a lizard... lizard, uhm,... being. β
β Who was my father then? β
Jack slumped back in his chair. His mother put a hand on his leg forcing his wandering eyes towards her eyes that were filled with angst.
β Who was he?! β
β You want me to tell you? Fine, mom. I thought you'd pick it up by now. He's Hitler. Grandpa Addy was Adolf Hitler without the mustache. β
That one confirmation of her suspicions changed something in the woman. A wry smile came across her face.
β Why are you smiling, ma? Did you realize you and I get to live forever? β
β I'm smiling because you're adopted.''
|
[ WP ] The year is 2250 . A dictator has taken absolute control of a nation and uses advanced technology to read people 's thoughts , crushing all rebellions in their infancy . `` What makes you different than the others ? '' asks a voice in the crowd below as you take a deep breath and prepare to answer
| **Chapter 13: An Examination of the Variable Standards of a Benevolent Despot; The Rise and Fall of Arthur Sant**
By the fourth year of his reign, Arthur Sant begin to face turmoil internally as well as abroad. Excessive taxation on the few industries left available to mankind created such an extreme disparity in wealth that a small oligarchical circle began to amass great power. This lead to the creation of two main groups; the Livyans who represented the working class and the Cyrusians the demonym of the wealthy elite who had all holed themselves onto a private island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
It was a situation which had reared its head so many times in the past that I am even hesitant to really dive in to the specifics. Tax policy mandated from the highest levels alienating the masses, such a separation of power that there was little doubt that revolt would be stirring. Meanwhile on the island of Cyrus the elites were preparing for war, so encapsulated by their own devices, leaving only automated workers on the mainland.
The Edict of 2048 had essentially replaced all human talent with artificial intelligence. A constitutional amendment that stated:
> And henceforth, all humans are no longer bound to survival by selling themselves and their time as capital investment. Human utility is based on each individual β s ability to make choices that most benefit themselves, and to climb Maslow β s hierarchy without impediment. From this day on, selling human time as labor is banned. In the next five years all human labor will be replaced by artificial intelligence, and all humans will be paid a basic universal income.
The enforcement mechanism a heavy tax on any industry that employed humans. Large enough that it would cripple just about any corporation. So immediately the wealthiest citizens formed their own offshore tax haven and all lived on it unencumbered. Left on the mainland were the rest of the population, now without work, without purpose or direction. Staring at their leader, a reclusive man who hadn β t given a speech since his coronation, all information provided by proxies.
A universal income enough to provide for the health, education and safety of all its citizens. Enough to be completely theoretically happy. An idealized visualization of a world where everyone creates exactly the life they want, without the concept of want or need. That making money was a pursuit of the mind. A hypothetical world that did not exist. The Cyrusians driving the market, putting just about any machination of opulence just out of reach. Trying to avoid the tax by creating more and more agreements that veered awfully close to indentured servitude.
The pitch was simple really: You want to live well? Well then you got to work for it. A mantra that had existed for centuries. Arthur Sant, the mysterious leader watching from afar, a self-proclaimed Laissez Faire Benevolent Despot, as the most basic elements of his plan began to unravel. So he pressed for even broader taxes, more stringent enforcement. A world of factions fighting for seemingly untenable opposing points. Pure capitalism vs perfect communism. Both such failures of the past.
By 2050 tensions had mounted to a breaking point. Arthur Sant β s forces battling the Cyrusians. The working class Livyans fighting the both the government and the corporations for the right to work, and the right to work humanely. But like so many fights regarding ideology, everyone focused on the loudest voices, not necessarily the most well organized. There was a group of individuals who had completely relished in the new system where work was no longer mandated. Had been using their time to develop more and more complex intelligence.
[ End of Part 1 ]
|
[ WP ] The animals of Earth rise up and put humanity on trial for crimes against nature
| `` ORDER IN THE COURT!''
The judge was n't having it. The crowd was out of control. Divided, for obvious reasons. On the right side of the courtroom were various animals, close relatives and family to the plaintiff. The dolphins were atrocious. Who would imagine such smart, beautiful creatures could be so annoying out of the water?
`` IT WAS EVERYWHERE!! SUNLIGHT BLOCKED FOR WEEKS, DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT DOES TO US? THE SHARKS WERE WITH US AND THEY SIMPLY REFUS-''
`` ENOUGH. RESPECTED ANIMALIA, YOU WILL BE REMOVED FROM THE COURTROOM WITH ANOTHER OUTBURST.''
Respected? Of course. In the courtroom of Judge Abraxix, Senior Rhinoceres of the Committee of Higher Judges, animals were to be treated with respect. Something the humans failed to practice, let alone understand.
`` Mr. Baxter, please.''
The judge was appealing to the prosecutor to continue.
`` Thank you, your honour.''
Mr. Baxter was the lead prosecutor in the case of'The Animals of San Francisco v. BP PLC''. He was a bunny rabbit. Mind you, a tough one. Third cousin, twice removed to Bugs Bunny. It was the second week of trial. Thirteen months after the BP oil spill.
Tensions were high.
-- -- --
More to come. Phone's about to die.
|
[ OT ] Writing Workshop 47 : Beginnings
| Pah. `` You've got to make the moment last!''
This must have been the worst idea he ever heard. Well, at least in the last few months. He hated these meetings. He hated these self-centered snobs who thought they knew how this world works and what was trendy.
He also hated this meeting. It was insanity. They were brainstorming the marketing motto for the newest product the CEO suggested. At his very first day in this company he nicknamed the CEO Dully. For obvious reasons.
Dully thought the idea to implement a camera into monitors for desktop PC's was great. It would be awesome to be able to share the great moments you have while gaming or browsing the web with your friends so they could take part in your joy.
Well, as far as he could tell, Dully was the only one to think that. Well, him and the snobterns. The majority of all Desktop users was neither photogenic nor keen on sharing the void gaze they have while browsing/gaming.
And all these snobterns, this is what he dubbed these self-centered idiots that came right out of college, thinking they are the shit, thinking they have it all figured out, they jumped right on board, reassuring Dully it was an awesome idea.
Ha... little did they know. He had a hard time suppressing the laugh. Oh how long did he know the laugh now? The laugh that was boiling in him, bubbling up his throat. Every time it tried to make its way out, it came a bit closer to his mouth. He felt the immense power behind this laugh, but he knew it was not yet time. He wished for it, he longed to set it free, to be embraced by it and to unite with it, become the laugh. He was only worried about wether his mouth could open wide enough to let it out or if the corners of his mouth would tear.
But soon. Soon...
|
[ WP ] Memory foam never forgets
| I woke up slowly and reached across to the right side of the bed where she always slept. This had been a morning ritual for me ever since she left. My fingers traveled along each indentation in yet another search, only to be met by the flat nothing on the other side. I flipped the mattress over one night, you know, to see if I could ignore it, but that did n't help. It only made it harder to sleep and sleep was all I had left. It was my conscious minds only freedom from her voice, her smell and her angelic laugh. Love is what I heard each time she laughed, and every time I replay it now, all I hear is pity.
One day I will move on, but not today. Not while her shadow still lays next to mine.
|
[ WP ] `` I need you . ''
|
It was almost complete. Almost.
I could see tears in her eyes and she stared me down. I could n't understand why she was always crying. This was a happy time. I could hear the buzzing of various machinery that surrounded us, and the murmuring of stressed out people in white coats who moved as if they were on a tight schedule. I watched from my seat next to her which just happened to be a cold, metal surface that was slightly shaped as a bed. I feel impatient, the headaches getting worse. `` What is taking so long?'' I yell out to the various beings running around the room. Finally, a familiar face walked up to me. He looked upset..- no. Pissed. He glared at me with hate but it did n't phase me.
`` Just a few more minutes''
I could n't understand why he was being so short. Once he was finished here, his career would skyrocket. Such a successful discovery would make him millions. And I would get to live. No one has done this before and succeeded. He would be on headlines. A star.
I looked over at her with a small grin on my face. She was still crying, but it would n't ruin my mood. I scooted to the edge of my seat, leaning closer to her and taking in the image. She was strapped into place because she just would n't sit still, and her fear was noticeable over her face and the way she trembled in place. I chalked it up as nerves. Who would n't be nervous. After a few moments of debate, I decide maybe I should try to calm her down. I grin even more as if trying to shove my happiness in her face. `` Why are you crying? You are going to be the first person to ever experience this. No one has seen this level of research. It's advanced! It's miracles in the making!''
There was a lot of protest leading up to today. Most of those residing in the lab thought that I was simply killing an innocent girl. Luckily, I'm intimidating with a knife, even worse with blackmail and after a few.. losses, many of them agreed to help me. This..sickness was getting stronger and I did n't have much time left. I was desperate. They did n't understand that this was a win for everyone.
I got up carefully, and my grinning face scrunched up in pain as my muscles ached in protest. I did n't have much time. I carefully limped over to her side, taking in her perfect features. `` Soon I'll be able to live like you. Be you. It's not my time to leave this earth yet. I have so much I need to do still!'' As if on que, one of the white coats walked over to us, his words stone cold and firm. `` Lay down please. We need to begin the procedure''
Finally it was time to move into my new home
I moved back to my bed, unable to keep in my excitement. My eyes widened as soon I was being hooked up to the machines behind us. Wire came out at every angle, the biggest ones being on the sides of my head. Her wiring was almost similar. I could see the screen from the corner of my eye and watched as it counted down. Soon the words `` Body Transfer Initiated'' flickered. I could feel a painful jolt in my head, through my skull, and before everything went black for the last time in this dying body, I muttered out the words to her.
`` It'll be okay. I need you.''
|
[ WP ] On his deathbed your father confesses that when you were young he shot and killed an intruder and buried him in the woods . The intruder was n't human .
| When I was younger my father knew everything. Now that I'm older, I can see that there are so many things that escaped him, but as I wait with him for the rest of my family to arrive, trawling with him through tapes of old football games, I believe that Dad knew everything that was worth knowing.
He was always my teacher, from my first car to my first and only girlfriend. I tell him this, `` You were a damn good pupil!'' He chuckles in reply.
I walk across the room to adjust the flowers by the window, although plucked from outside - the small cluster of them visible to me now - I have never seen the bright colours and insect like shape of them sprout anywhere but my fathers garden.
`` You remember helping me with Lisa?'' I ask him, returning to my seat and resuming the game. `` No way I would've won her over without your help.''
`` Oh, you give yourself too little credit. I only suggested flowers.''
He takes a light sip of his beer, though his confident drinking days are behind him, there isnt time left for him not to enjoy a cold one.
`` But it was your flowers, she said she'd never seen anything like them...'' He nods and acknowledges my praise in a gentle wave of his beer `` Neither have I, actually.''
My father, never the man to encourage any form of silence, keeps his eyes firmly upon the television in front of him.
`` Dad can you tell me why we have them?''
`` Magic soil'' he says, tapping his nose, as he has done every time I've asked since they sprouted overnight, shortly before my eighth birthday.
`` Dad.''
He turns to me and I smile, expectantly. I'm an adult now, that girl whom my father helped me catch is now my wife, yet the childlike curiosity to find out what happened back then is now accompanied by the adult realisation that this may be the last chance I have to ask him. I need to know.
`` You remember before your seventh birthday?''
`` It was my eighth.''
`` So you do remember.''
I smile and shrug, he knows how long ive been dying to know but respected him too much to pry.
`` I fired the gun that night, you'll remember that's what woke you up, fired the gun for the first and only time.''
He's talking about our shotgun, handed down to him from his isolationist brother after his last hunt took him as a trophy. I have n't seen it since it was in my fathers hands that night.
`` I woke up with your mother to footsteps downstairs. Now you know me, Kid, I'm not a violent man. I did n't want to fire that thing, I was n't even going to until I reached the bottom step. Just scare them - the people I thought were breaking in.'' He adds, and I notice the distinct lack of character within his voice. The enigmatic story teller has begun to recite as if he himself was a camera pointed at the event, and I had finally gotten it to play.
I refrain from asking what this has to do with the flowers
`` When I fired that gun I killed something, kid. I'm not a murderer, I saw it before I shot it but I will die in this bed before I describe it to you. Just know it was n't human.''
From the cameras dead eyes came fear, and with it a shaking voice. I take from him his beer which he does n't seen to notice.
`` I buried it, deep. I did n't even want to walk over the thing but if I had to I wanted to make damn sure it was buried all the way to hell.''
I look over to the window and consider the flower patch, I never before took it's shape into consideration - the way it grows in a rectangle the size of a grown man.
`` Two days later. Two days! Those things were there. Nothing natural about them, makes sense considering what's lying underneath them. No matter how many times I cut, burned or yanked them out another one took their place within the god damn week.''
`` Dad, I'm sorry I never knew-''
`` You know what the worst thing is? The dreams. I have the same one, all the time. Ever since.''
I'm sure my father ca n't even see the television now, my camera is stuck on playback and the sudden realisation hits me that I may not be able to turn it off. The doorbell rings and I hear the rustling of my family outside, but the flowers have trapped me and I ca n't help but ask him what his dream is. He turns to me for the first time in the conversation, his face covered in tears and twisted with memory.
`` In my dreams I did n't bury it deep enough. In my dreams it climbs back out.''
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[ PM ] I want to make a High Fantasy setting for the fun of it , and I want r/writingprompts to inspire me .
| **Story 2**
Sunlight slipped through the brittle, grey-white mountains of the Leviathan's jaws, casting the Empire into Hot day, the creature's massive, muscular tongue shifting and pulsing in motion in the great plain before them, as it had for several Heartbeats now.
The teeth were barely visible, so far away in the massive maw, that from the God-King's citadel, you could barely see their faintest line, as thin strips of white, beautiful sunlight slip into the cities and fields at the Leviathan's mouth, the heartland of the Empire of the Maw.
`` The God-King has granted you audience.'' The Guard stated, both indifferent, and commanding, despite making no direct commands as he opened the door, and the three of us entered.
We were each clothed in hard leathers and chain mail, clinking quietly as we walked, and while our weapons remained outside with the door guards, none of the men standing watch in the hall would have been bold enough to try anything. Our reputations preceded us.
We crossed the throne room at a brisk pace, boots echoing off the stone floor, until we reached the foot of the imperial throne, and each gave a brief bow at the feet of a man who looked in his mid or late twenties. We knew better.
`` Thank you for arriving so quickly'' God-King Jacob stated, simply, already standing in front of his throne. `` I require your services.''
I suppressed a snort. *Really? I thought this was a social call* I thought, dryly.
`` I need your team to mount an expedition into the upper skull.'' He continued. `` Your expertise is required to scout the region for conquest in the coming years. I will need detailed maps, information on the dangers and threat that await, and whatever intelligence can be accumulated on the...'' He paused `` locals.'' He said with disdain.
That... was not what I'd expected, and looking to the side, I could see that Geoff and Cirine were n't enthusiastic either. But we stayed quiet. God-Kings make demands, not offers.
`` Your team is reputed as the most experienced explorers of that region, and I will require only the best if this invasion is to succeed. Do you have any questions?''
I took a deep breath, and spoke, carefully. `` M'lord, I would not wish to question you-''
He raised a hand, and I could see Cirine flinch out of the corner of my eye. `` You do n't believe this is a wise choice.''
We were silent, trying to come up with an answer that would please him. He cut us off before anyone figured it out.
`` Tell me why, Sir Reyn. You are the expert in this matter.''
I took another deep breath, and tried to choose my words *more* carefully this time. `` The land is inhospitable, M'lord, and populated by hundreds of thousands of Fae. No lichens or fungi grow in the Upper skull, and it is a dangerous, insidious maze of pathways and corridors without distinguishing characteristics or landmarks. If an army marched up there, it would be all but impossible for an army to supply themselves there, and there would be no forage.'' I bit my lip, afraid I'd misspoken somewhere, but the God-King continued to wait, patiently. `` And they would be hounded by the Fae every step, Your Magnificence. We have only survived by speed and quickness, and even then, barely.''
He seemed to take this in. `` How can so many Fae survive if the land is desolate? There must be a source of food we simply have not found yet.''
`` I... I would not think to dispute you...''
`` But you are skeptical, I understand.''
Those last words... always scared me, from being like him. I always felt that gods and spirits and demons were terrifying, but the idea that they *understood* you, that their minds wrapped around and around and had simply figured you out, to the core, that was beyond terrifying.
`` I can not allow the Fae to continue as they are.'' God-King Jacob stated. `` They flow down by night from their tunnels, seizing men, women, and children in their clutches, to be seen never again, or to be found either dead or mentally broken. I *will* act against them, and I need to understand how I may.'' He... he explained himself. To *us*. I did n't understand why, I just tried to follow along.
`` I require expertise. I require an answer to the problem the Fae pose, and you and your team are the best source for that answer.'' He looked at us, with eyes a shining, glowing yellow. `` So my charge to you is this- find their weakness. Find me a way to destroy, or, failing that, to wound and frighten the Fae away from our lands.''
We all were silent. The task was beyond us, beyond anyone.
`` You will have the resources of the entire empire at your disposal, should you require them. Scholars who know every record of the Fae ever written, generals who may co-ordinate soldiers and armies. Understand, that even should it take *centuries* to accomplish, I will retaliate against these monsters.''
What could we say? Gods do n't make requests. `` As you wish, Your Holiness.'' I said, fighting against the tremble in my voice. `` We shall- we shall begin with your scholars'' I managed to improvise. `` To gather information, on whatever we can.''
`` Go.'' He stated, turning his back to us. `` I will expect a report at the end of this Leviathan's breath.''
*That gives us some time at least. * `` Of course sir'' I said, as the three of us gave everything we had just trying to back away, instead of running.
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[ WP ] You wake up and see on the news that everyone in the world has obtained a superpower . They can be as insignificant as smelling slightly more like cheese than usual , to Superman-esque . You attempt to find your power .
| *CRUNCH*
As soon as my knuckles hit the concrete, my fist turned into a very painful sort of jello. I yelled, the pain strong enough to be blinding. As I began to pass out, my mind slipped away from reality in order to review how it got here.
So not superstrength, then. Or super durability. Or precognition. Or common sense.
The newsreporters had done a very good job of being dead pan, up until Linda The Weather Girl decided on an impromptu demonstration. About 1/8th the country watched as the newsdesk calmly floated away toward the studio ceiling, papers spilling off it as it went.
I say one eighth, but it might be less. I say this because, as the rest of the newsreport had made clear, the rest of the country was intensely preoccupied.
Most prisons had exploded with violence. Some had simply exploded. A few had vanished, although at least one of those was just someone turning the complex invisible. Some did n't feature any terrifying fate, they were just slightly weirder prison riots. I wonder how many were started by people trying the same thing I just did.
So was the case with county jails, asylums, even hospitals across the country. There had n't been any word from abroad, but given the amount of news we were generating internally, then I suppose that's fair. Military had been stood down by the White House. That's the last thing I read before I had slunk back upstairs to try and find my new `` superpower''. Hah.
I'd gone with telekinesis first, on a whim. Nothing happened, obviously. I'd tried to summon demons, the elements, plagues, elves and icecream. In retrospect, at least four of those five attempts was a terrible idea. Next had been laser vision, transforming into Beast... I basically went down the list of X-Men. With curfew in full effect, and in full enforcement thanks to local police, there wasnt much else to do.
Telepathy had been tried, to no avail. I attempted to get in contact with the hot girl from next door. I could see her calmly writing in her diary from my room, but my thoughts did not cross hers. Instead I watched as she calmly elasticated her arm across the room to open the door for her dad. I remember getting a boner from some rather indecent thoughts that had just come to mind. Then I remember visions of my junk being cut off and fed to a woodchipper, courtesy of my hot neighbour's dad.
My own parents would be on the scene here any second. They probably wouldnt notice that I'd closed the blinds to avoid Termi-neighbour Dad's death stare. I wondered idly what their superpowers were, as I faded in and out of consciousness. My hand still hurt like a bitch, but the pain had been relegated to background noise, like a fire alarm softly ringing from a few blocks away. Also, there was a fire alarm softly ringing from a few blocks away.
With that final thought, I slipped into dreamless slumber.
When I woke up, a doctor in a white lab coat calmly explained that they had had to amputate the hand. I'd broken just about every bone in it, and rather than leave me with a crumpled ball of flaring nerves for a hand, they had opted to cut it off. I looked down at my hands, one wrapped in bandages. Wait, what?
I looked down at my hands. Plural. I had two. I could tell because they had n't bothered to wrap the bandages that tightly, and I could see the fresh new hand underneath where the bandages had come loose. I flexed both hands. Both seemed to work. Yet the photos the doctor was giving me definitely depicted my amputated hand. It still had my ring on.
I considered the implications for a minute. The doctor ( now accompanied by a small team of doctors ), was calmly explaining something about how I could help save lives or whatever. Funny, some of those doctors had weird masks on, like the ones surgeons wear. Exactly like. Hahaaaaaaaaa, man what a coincidence.
Doc went on for a while about how they needed me to sign something, and some sort of great reward after this was all over. For some reason I could taste bubblegum on my lips. Goddamn do I love bubblegum. I continued to consider the implications, very seriously.
See, I'm pretty sure Doc had n't brought it up yet, but there was one particular ramification at the forefront of my mind. Obviously, I would make sure Stacey was ok with it first. I'm not *that* sort of guy, geez. But the important thing was... TERMINEIGHBOUR DAD COULD N'T STOP ME NOW!
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[ WP ] There 's a prophesied hero , a chosen one , destined to vanquish all evil . This supposed hero is also an egotistical , self centered brat . You 're the villain solely because you got tired of putting up with the `` hero 's '' shit
| A golden knight, perfect brow drenched in sweat and blood, furrowed in frustration, stands across from a young man in rags, gripping a sword of iron.
The knight spoke, tenor voice flowing like silk across the clearing to the man in rags,'' I have fought demons dragged from hell by most evil men, and threw them both back into the depths from where came.''
The man in rags clutches his sword and breathes slowly, a sigh breaching the space between them.
The knight grimaces and says sharper cutting through the silence that had fallen over the forrest as they fought. `` I grappled with dragons when they returned from the stars while all of man fled before their fire and might. I fought them alone and emptied the skies of their tyranny.''
The man in rags reaches down and picks up the golden sword that lay before him; a golden gauntlet still grasping it's handle, white bone and red blood revealing themselves from the recesses of the gauntlet as it follows the sword into the air.
The knight screams, voice filling the air, a voice that had not been ignored in over 1000 years destroying evil, going unanswered. `` I battled the giants when they came down from their clouds. I battled, and when I won I followed them back to their heights and tore down their castles so they would never terrorize man again.''
The man in rags steps forward, prying the golden fingers from the hilt. The gauntlet falls loose and crashes to the ground. The white knight crumbles to his knees before him, confusion and defeat now evident in his upturned face and wide eyes staring straight at this mongrel, this animal, that rose from his station to spit in the face of a god. `` They promised me I would defeat all evil. The priests prophesized it, lips repeating the words of God. Who are you?''
The man in rags raises the golden sword above the knight, the man who for a thousand years had kept humanity from changing, from growing, had kept all the evil from the world but with it all the good as well. Stared at him and felt nothing but pity and swung as he said, gutteral voice only reaching the knight, as the silence of the world holding its breath became oppressive,
`` I hope a good man.''
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[ WP ] You 're out getting groceries and you see your old first love from high school . They do n't look like they 've ages even a day . The problem with that is that you have n't been in high school for over fifty years .
| `` Hmm, do I really need these Lays? I've been eating bad enough for so many years, maybe I could just...''
As he was pondering about his unhealty and gross lifestyle, John felt a refreshing presence behind his back. His heart began pumping with unprecented ferocity; he experienced such a wild and massive range of emotions that he barely could stand on his feet. In fact, he have n't felt like this for about fifty years, a time where life was much simpler and all he had to do was to think about *her*.
`` Oh gosh, could it be?'' John thoughts were scrambled; he suffocated and grasped for air, without success.
`` Hi John! It's been a long long time dose n't it?'' She said with her usual excitement and affectionate voice.
`` Y-y-yeah, how-how-how's it going?'' Replied John. You could almost hear his blood rush in his ill and almost-invalid lungs. He closed his eyes and gathered what was left of his courage. He had to see her face, *after all this time*.
He turned his head around.
She looked exaclty the same, how could *that* be? While his hairs had growned whiter, his height taller and his attitude dispassionate, *she* was the exact copy of the girl he felt in love with fifty years ago.
Her eyes were as he remembered: azure with a combination of green, they resembled an elegant landscape, with vast oceans and delightful trees. All he could do is gaze at them; he was lost in the beauty of her look and her stunning glance.
Her smile was as charming as it was long ago. A contagious but fascinating, pleasing smile. She was truly an angel; almost god-made, a work of art.
`` Yeah I'm doing great, but I got ta go, my boyfriend's waiting me, see ya later!'' She said, because John could n't find the correct words that would match her grace.
As she walked away, John tried to make up his mind. What he just experienced was inconceivable. It went against the laws of science and biology, fields in which he deeply believed. He kept pondering and could n't find any logical explanation.
`` Maybe I was hallucinating?'' Possible conclusion, he did n't know. He could n't think clearly, his mind was as foggy as a misty rainforest.
`` Finally, I do n't need those chips,'' He put them away, and changed aisles.
__________________________________________________________
It's my first WP, and english is my second language, and I'm in class. Please feel free to give me some advices, I'd like to become a better writer.
Edits: Grammitical errors + some story added
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[ WP ] Aliens have invaded Earth . However they only seem to be interested in ravaging the United States and every other country just lives with this fact .
| LAPD Call Log # 09561
-- -BEGIN CALL -- -
`` 911, what's your emergency?''
**'' There's an alien in my backyard. `` **
`` Okay sir, one moment. What is the alien doing?''
**'' It's ripping out the flowers in my... dammit, he just ate my hydrangeas! `` **
`` Okay, sir, I'm going to need you to stay where you are. Do not approach...''
*sounds of a scuffle, then an explosion erupts*
`` Sir! Are you still there?''
**'' I'm fine, but the alien just... exploded when I hit it. There's this weird black... is that oil? `` **
``... Sir, you'll need to stay where you are. I'm sending a Cleaner and an ambulance to your location.''
*muffled shouts of victory*
**'' Yo Quinn, *my* alien had oil for blood! Beats Shirley's gassy little bastard any day! `` **
-- -END CALL -- -
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[ WP ] Two grand masters of an incredibly complex board ( card , etc . ) game realize , mid-game , that nobody actually knows the rules , they β ve been both making it up as they go .
| Sarah is dragging Thom through the dorm halls as he protests, `` Come on Sarah, you really want to watch a Zeedo match?'' Sarah throws her head back, her purple hair flying backwards, smirks, and says, `` Oh, are you not prepared to date a hipster chick?''
Thom chuckles as he opens his mouth to say something, snaps it shut, and lets her lead him through the quad and to a beaten up building on the the south side of campus. Thom briefly examines a Zeedo poster with the tagline, `` The most intellectually demanding game ever conceived.'' Thom makes a frown and says, `` That's like saying Esperanto is the world's greatest language. Who cares.'' Sarah pretends to ignore his comment as they enter the building.
`` This is like the best Zeedo players ever, this is history, Tommy,'' she says to him as they grab two seats in the front row. `` Zeedo is n't even played in Japan anymore. Its just die-hards here in the states now. Its like outsider art. A rebel board game,'' she explains. `` You're a game theory guy, you'll like it.''
Thom sighs and says, `` Okay, but purely as a academic broaden your horizons thing. I still do n't believe we're missing Dreamtown Serenade for this.''
`` LOL'' Sarah says mockingly, `` Rock music.'' Thom protests, `` They're a good band! My cousin grew up with the drummer!''
A heavyset man in his 50s stands and shusshes the small crowd as two octogenarian Asian men bow then sit down at the table positioned a few feet from the front row. On the table sits a simple piece of graph paper, but covered in tiny totems and painted figures. They roll dice, hum little songs, occasionally get up and dance, and move the figures. Sometimes they just stare at each other for upwards of two or three minutes.
During a two minute stare down, Sarah pulls out her smartphone and starts tapping away. Thom carefully watches the game for a few minutes as Sarah is typing furiously. Thom snorts and Sarah looks up at him from her phone, then goes back it. A half hour passes and the Asian man on the right stands up, bows, and walks away. The heavy-set man gets up and starts clapping, `` Great game! Great game!'' he exclaims as Sarah looks up and sees Thom transfixed by the scene. `` Wonderful! Wonderful'' exclaims the man as everyone joins in clapping. The other Asian man, gets up, bows to the crowd, bows to the heavy-set man, and starts putting all the dice and figurines into a small wooden chest.
Thom chuckles and says, `` Did n't like it, eh?'' Sarah shrugs, `` I guess it was okay. I do n't think I got it.''
`` It took me a while, but I figured it out. I think its just improv theater or dadaism or something,'' he says.
`` You mean, this was one big put on,'' Sarah says in bewilderment.
`` I guess, its like performance art. Its almost mocking the overly serious chess games from the cold war. I imagine the humor here is subtle and very Japanese.''
Sarah stomps her foot down, `` Now you're pulling my leg. You really think this was performance art?''
`` Yes, absolutely. Its actually quite clever. The two guys put on quite a show. The game itself made no sense.''
`` I ca n't decide if that's incredibly stupid or incredibly clever,'' Sarah protests.
`` No different than professional wrestling. Maybe we should go see some'wrasslin next,'' Thom teases as they walk back towards the dorms.
They walk wordlessly through the quad, holding hands. After a few minutes, Sarah interrupts, `` Think we can catch the end of the Dreamtown show?''
Thom smiles, `` I hope so,'' as they run towards the venue, occasionally looking at each other, and making silly Zeedo jokes. As they walk into the venue Thom loudly chants, `` The most intellectually demanding game ever conceived!'' They laugh and enter the dimmed lighting of the music hall, their ears overwhelmed by the loud bassline, reverberating on every surface.
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[ WP ] Rewrite a classic fairytale/myth from the point of view of the monster . Make us feel for him/her/it/them while the hero looks like an asshole .
| Ages have passed since the fall of my civilization. I am the last who remembers the glory of what is now a mythical age. The environment is now desolate and most people struggle for their daily bread, but there is still a hope to rejuvenate the land. The few pieces of technology I have managed to salvage have lead me to this point and can take me no further. I must now rely on an orphan who has somehow raised himself on the cruel streets of this dark age.
The system that once allowed our lands to flourish as a grand utopia was sealed deep below the Earth. My life's work has been spent deciphering the secrets to accessing this system. After all my years of searching I have finally found the entrance, but it is sealed to all but the descendants of the ancient leaders. The orphan is the only one who could enter.
The mind of this child is clouded by the hardships he has faced. The only way to survive had been a life of crime and he does not trust any authority. Although finding him was made easy by the relics in my possession, it has been impossible to reason with him. I had no choice but to adopt a strategy of deception. The child's lust for possessions seemed to be insatiable, a common feature among the survivors of this plagued land. Using disguises I convinced the child to seek out our world's salvation by promising him great wealth. For better or worse he was our only hope.
It is only now that I realize my terrible mistake. The child has now assumed a new identity and is planning to take control of our lands for himself. He has used the ancient power to crown himself as a prince and intends to wed the daughter of our leader under false pretenses to assume control. After he has secured his wealth and power he plans to release the power and doom our lands forever.
I fear that these will be my final written words as I prepare to face the child. Our only hope is that I may somehow assume control of the ancient power. As the odds are stacked infinitely against me I leave these final words. Do not trust this false prince Aladdin.
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[ WP ] An elder god is summoned by a six year-old girl who just wants a friend .
| Emily sat down in the inverted diagram she'd got from her big brother's book, *The King in Yellow*. She'd followed the instructions to the letter, including taking away her best friend's pet guinea pig, and laying its blood in the circle.
She felt the hum of the circle, grimly lining the floor with the eldritch runes from the book. She sat down, and waited.
She did n't have long to wait before the monster came through. For a moment, Emily saw... *something*... appear, before it took the form of a red-haired woman, wearing a wolf-mask. It looked around, a little surprised, before settling its gaze on the little girl, who looked at the floor.
It spoke, rasping with the trickling edge of *slippage*. `` Little mortal, why did you call me?''
Emily ran to the summoned thing and gave it a hug. `` I'm looking for a new friend, now that my old ones are so far away. I found this book, and I thought...'' Emily's voice trailed off as the sense of wrongness peaked.
The thing ruffled her hair gently. `` You poor thing...'' its voice trailed off as it realised that *this girl* was the one who had summoned her. There waqs a pause that gave birth to countless universes, before the thing responded. `` My name is Hastur, and I think, given the adequacy with which you performed this ritual, that I shall be your friend.
`` Others wo n't see me, or hear me, but they may get a sense of impending madness when they're around you. There may also be....things....that happen when you get angry. Are you **sure** you want this, little mortal?''
Emily nodded, her eyes tearing up in the candle-lit darkness. `` I miss my friends, and no-one likes me here. Not even my mommy and daddy. They left me to go away to Nana's, and they never came back...'' She wept on the flooor, while Hastur decided that she *would* take this girl for her earthly Avatar.
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[ WP ] A story of a meth dealer turned high school chemistry teacher
| `` Your cancer, Mr Black... it's gone.''
`` But how can this be?''
`` It appears as though the treatment was successful, and you've succeeded remission - all traces of cancer have left your body.''
It took Barty Black a while to comprehend what he'd just heard. Usually, a drug lord would never go near a hospital; there's always someone who's looking to off you. He'd survived them all - bombings, machine gun fire, poisoning - but he could n't avoid cancer. His profits from his meth empire had covered the treatment, no questions asked. But for the first time in his life, he had faced death head-on. He'd won, but at a cost.
He had n't so much seen the error of his ways, but he knew he needed to change.
Once the all-clear was given, he implemented a long term plan; he changed the business model of his empire; streamlining it so well that he basically removed himself. He had gone by an alias all these years - no family to threaten, no friends to manipulate - so he could use his birth name without a problem. A science degree from an established college? Not a problem. Teaching degree, background check, all obtained the best way he knew how - quickly, and without questions. All he had remaining were his profits. Now, he set out to educate the minds of students in America.
But, there was one instance he always remembered - it always harked back to his drug lord days, but kept him firmly in the world of teaching too.
A certain student - Jessie Red - was always a troublemaker. One day, Barty had had enough, especially after she kept calling him `` Black Lung,'' once she found out that he was a cancer survivor. Kids can be so cruel these days. At the start of another class, he told them all to sit. Of course, Jessie made herself heard first:
* β Looks like you β re about a few beakers light here, Black Lung. Where β s the lab equipment? β * asked Jessie
* β The equipment isn β t coming, β * Barty replied.
* β Why is that? Who the hell do you think you are? β *
* β I β m the man who β s keeping it. β *
Jessie turned to the lab assistant: * β What the hell β s this? We had an agreement, right? We got our deal. So where β s the equipment? β *
* β My assistant doesn β t know where it is; only I do. And you β re dealing with me now, not him. β *
* β Why don β t you just cut to what it is you want or what you think is going to happen here, alright? Because I want what I came here for β to blow stuff up. β *
* β That equipment is worth more in my hands than it is in yours β or anyone else's even, for that matter. But I need better grades. `` *
* β Grades? β *
* β That β s right. So if you agree to increase your grade average to 3.5, I β ll give you 30 % more practical lab tests. β *
* β 30 %. Wow, are you kidding me? Thirty? Please tell me this is a joke. Do you know much homework we have already to do? And why the hell would we want you? You realize we have other teachers, right? `` *
* β I know all about the other teachers. See, my assistant here tells me that they can get you a 2.9 grade, if you β re lucky. What I teach, is Ivy-League level. β *
* β So? β *
* β So, it's grade-school touch-ball versus the Oakland Raiders. Theirs is just some tepid, off-brand, generic cola. What I'm making is Classic Coke. β *
* β Alright. Okay, so, um, if we just leave β right here, right now, leave you without a class β then there is no more Coke on the market, right? See how that works? There's only them. `` *
* β Do you really want to live in a world without Coca-Cola? β *
Jessie laughed, as Barty produced a stack of marked test papers and threw them on the desk between them.
* β My assistant tells me that the other teachers switched to lower grade markings because of our success. They give the benefit-of-the-doubt answers, to make their students look as smart as mine. They already ape my tests at every turn. But now, you have the opportunity to learn it yourself. `` *
* β I need you to listen to me. We β re not going to stay in this class as your subjects, do you understand? For what? To watch a bunch of grades get a bit higher? `` *
* β A bit higher means colleges pay more attention. A higher grade means a greater yield of scholarship offers. That β s $ 130 million of education that isn β t being pissed away by some sub-standard student. β * Barty paused for a moment. * β Now you listen to me. You β ve got the greatest chemistry teacher in Am β no, the *two* greatest chemistry teachers in America β right here, β * he said, pointing to his lab assistant. * β And with our skills, you β ll earn more from that.6 grade boost than you ever would with the other teachers. β *
* β Yeah, so you say. Just wondering why we β re so lucky. Why care about us? β *
* β My seniors are graduating. So their share of the partnership is available, if you can handle his end: grades. And if you give the same effort and dedication they did. We have a 0.6 average to improve upon; and we β re ready to go. Are *you* ready? *
Jessie laughed. * β Who the hell *are* you? β *
* β You know. You all know exactly who I am. Say my name. β *
* β What? Black Lung? I don'tβI do n't have a damn clu-'' *
* β Yeah you do. I'm the teacher. I'm the man who got Mr Edwards fired. β *
* β Bullshit; the Board of education got Eddie fired. β *
* β You sure? β *
Jessie turned around to look at the rest of the class. A small handful shook their heads, as Barty leaned in closer to Jessie.
* β That's right. Now, Say. My. Name. β *
* β... You're Mr Black. β *
***'' You're goddamn right. `` ***
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[ WP ] My eyes stung from the smoke .
| Quintus watched Rome burn.
The city, in its grand destitution, lay before him, backlit by vibrant hues of yellow and red. Once imposing boulevards now criss-crossed with rivulets of blood. Storefronts that he used to frequent vacant, their commodities smashed, dripping into the street. Their owners treated much the same.
He looked over to the West and spotted what remained of the aqueduct where he and Gaius used to frequent as children. The aqueduct is now split down the middle, victim to a catapult volley. Water limps sadly from the disconnected ends. Gaius is dead. Eviscerated by a Gaul's axe trying to escape from the market district.
How he wished it stopped at Gaius.
Alba. Ran through with an arrow near the Coliseum. Maximillian. Crushed by a falling archway outside his house. Petronia, poor Petronia, taken prisoner by the conquerors. Nobody has seen her since. If someone were to find her, Quintus thought, they'd probably wish they had n't.
He felt a lump rising in his throat. He could feel a stinging in his eyes, a wetness on his cheek.
`` The smoke,'' he thought. `` Damn that smoke.''
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[ TT ] You enter the local bar and see a pair of off-duty dieties
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**T**he bar of the establishment was mediocre, at *best. * It was small, about 8 foot long. It's cheap wood was slowly rotting away, the lost weight made up for by the substantial amount of liquids and grime which lathered it's eroded surface. Sat on a crooked and weathered barstool was a man in a sleep as deep as the bottom of the glass he'd collapsed into. It was 2am in the bar, in much the same way it was 2am *outside* of the bar.
Lias the barman was the personification of the bar he stood behind. The fat figure was also covered in various substances, wiping glasses with a rag so old it managed to make them visibly dirtier.
`` Oi, Tom.'' He rumbled through his thick handlebar moustache. `` *Tom, * you prat.''
The unconscious man rose from the empty glass with a start. It rolled over and considerately trundled away to smash somewhere else.
`` Huurh-wah?'' He grunted, still half asleep.
`` Last order's in 10 minutes, Tom. Get it while yer can.''
`` Yeah, yeah... Cheers, Lias.'' He muttered.
*Smash. *
`` That's $ 10 on your tab.''
`` Whatever.''
Lias snorted, and went back to dirtying his remaining glasses. Tom shook himself awake and surveyed the room to see who was left. Jack was nowhere to be seen - neither was Tian.
*Bugger, * thought Tom. *He still owed me that beer. *
All that was left now were a few late-night stragglers trying to drown away some presumably sad memories or events away, getting up and walking to the bar for their last drinks.
`` Shot of whiskey, if you please.'' Said a deep, gruff voice.
The voice next to his ear made Tom spin round, as the body it was attached too had made no noise approaching him. When he *saw* the man standing next to him, he gave a small, strangled shout and jumped back. The longer he looked at the figure, the more paralysed his brain became. His mind went as limp as his hanging jaw, and his hand involuntarily flopped off the bar as he oggled at the figure.
In front of Tom, was - No! Snarled Tom's mind. Not *was*. It is vitally important that we remember that it's what *looks* like him. It's not... *him. *
In front of Tom, there was a man that *looked* a little too much like Zeus. Except not only did it look like him, it *felt* like him. He was too lifelike, to real, to be some bloke from a fancy dress party. Zeus was wearing the sterotypical greek attire of a tunic, except that it was utterly impeccable and gleamed with the force of a thousand suns. He was sporting locks of white hair to the shoulders, a great bushy beard, and huge, gleaming muscles which looked like they could punch through 10 feet of steel.
He noticed Tom staring at him, and as an inkling of understanding stretched across his face, he gave Tom a sly grin and a wink. He turned to face the bar, and spoke with a voice like thunder;
`` Lias! Where's that whiskey?''
Not very godly, granted; but at this point Tom noticed that all the late-night stragglers at the bar took no notice of Zeus at all. It was almost as if they were seeing a different man. Lias stopped dirtying glasses to address him, all too casually given the person he was talking to.
`` Yeah, yeah, it's coming, Derick. Tom, mate, what's wrong with you?'' He said, catching sight of Tom's dumbstruck face.
Tom stared at him.
`` What the *fuck* did you put in my drink?'' he managed to get out.
Lias gave him an odd look.
`` It was cider, you wanker.'' He grunted dismissevely. `` You do n't look so good, you probably want t' be leaving around now, eh?''
`` Sure thing, Lias.'' Muttered Tom. Maybe he *should* leave. This bar was getting to his head. Clearly.
He hopped off his stool to grab his coat when he found a huge bronzed hand laying on his shoulder. For the second time tonight, he span around and found himself apparently looking at the Greek God of Thunder. In another giant hand was a comparatively tiny glass of amber liquid.
`` Please - er, *Tom, * was it? - do n't leave on my account. It's not everyday mortals can see through our disguises.''
Tom knees were at the point of buckling from the weight of Zeus' hand, but he still noticed a word in what Zeus said that sounded all too ominous.
`` Er... I... *we? *'' Tom whimpered.
Zeus looked over to a dark corner of the room, and found himself looking at a huge man, whose skin was a pure, gleaming red, and horns were absolutely not meant to be protruding from his head, or anywhere for that matter. Tom could just make out the furry goat legs under the table. Lucifer gave them a little wave and raised his glass.
`` Tom, I'd like you to meet my good friend, Satan.''
( PART 1 )
-- --
Thoughts? Criticisms? Let me Know!
^/r/DunsparceWrites
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[ WP ] You 're Hitler , and you 've just died . There is an after life . Tell me about it .
| I open my eyes. As i look around i see a vast kingdom on the clouds. I begin to walk up to a lone man standing next to a great gate. I look down at my feet. I am still in my uniform yet there's an odd glow around my body and despite the fact im on a cloud it feels just like plushy earth. As i get closer to the lone man the silhouette begins to take more of a shape. It is an old man in a tattered gray cloak. Imagine Gandolf if you will.
Before i can say anything he starts to speak. `` Welcome Adolf.'' he says. But his voice booms from all directions. `` Ive been expecting you''
I am afraid but i refuse to show it so i yell at him to assert my dominance. `` WHo are you!'' `` i demand you tell me at vunce! ( once )
`` I am St. Peter.'' replies the old man calmly his voice still booming from every which way. `` God has given me specific instructions for you'' I want you to take these keys and enter the kingdom of Heaven. You'll notice theres no Jews laughed the saint''
`` I dont dont vunderstand'' i stuttered. `` ive killed so many''
`` Well, Every now and then the world gets really populated'' explained Peter. `` Not once in the bible does it say dont use a condom yet for some reason these assholes protest them''
I was shocked that he said Assholes. like shouldnt swearing be taboo here. then again Im standing here so how morally right is this place. Oh crap hes still talking i hope my face i appropriate.
.... `` with limited resources it would be crueler NOT to kill. In fact all of Ethiopia is a constant reminder to the big guy about this fact. SO thats where you came in. You did us a great service.''
I nodded but wasnt fully aware of what was going on. this must of been apparent to him as he then went on to say
`` i know this can all be a bit much at first so ive arranged one of your idols to show you the ropes. I believe you've heard of Napoleon Bonaparte''
And like that the gates opened up and there was a short man at 5'6 wearing a big hat to show me around. and we locked arms and skipped into the kingdom.
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[ WP ] The saying that is that we die twice , once by mortal wound and the second when somebody says our name for the last time . Between these two deaths exists heaven , filled with all the greatest people from history . After the second death is Hell . Write about your experience .
| The fire in the barrel was beginning to run low, for the final time. I no longer have the strength to collect more garbage to fuel the flames. My tattered sleeping bag provides little relief from the cold autumn air. Though, I'm fortunate to have the overpass to protect me from steady rain.
At least I'll die dry.
It has been weeks since I have been able to pan handle enough cash for food. I do n't have the strength to travel to the more heavily populated areas of the city, and the cold is keeping people inside more.
At least I had lead a good life. I helped others as much as I could. I never intentionally hurt anyone, and I prayed nightly. That should be enough... enough to get into heaven.
The time is getting closer. I can feel it now, the fluid in my lungs is finally going to win. I close my eyes as my chest shutters trying to get one last breath.
Aaaah yes. I can finally feel the warmth of Heaven. The sound of... the sound of fires? The... the smell of brimstone?
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[ WP ] Aliens invade earth . To the surprise of humans , the alien 's weaponry is pitifully outdated .
| β **Stop Mortal and Bow Down Before Your Masters! ** β The gelatinous blob shouted. The marines entrenched outside the Whitehouse didn β t budge. The horde had appeared mere seconds ago, and the secret service was still securing the president.
β Drop your weapons and stand down! β The head sergeant shouted back. There were hundreds of the things, and they all had weird battle axes. The sergeant thought that was strange, but if they had teleportation capabilities then the axes must β ve been more than they seemed.
β **The armies of Zog Will Crush Puny Humans! ** β The leader of the blobs shouted again, using a tentacle of ooze to raise his axe above his head.
β I repeat. Stand down or we will open fire! β The sergeant ordered.
β **Chrage! ** β the blob leader ordered, sliding forward with his axe poised to smite. The sergeant couldn β t believe he was unlucky enough to order the opening volley of humanity β s first interstellar war, but the rules of engagement were clear, and the president β s life was at stake.
β Open fire marines! β He shouted, and 50 calibers joined in with M16s in showering lead down on the oncoming alien infantry. Snipers form the roof landed shot after shot into the onrushing horde. It was all to no effect. The bullets were merely absorbed into the gelatin of the blobs, and didn β t seem to harm them in the slightest.
β That was why they used ancient weapons. β The sergeant thought. β Their defensive powers are so great that they don β t need advanced weaponry β. Realizing he was now doomed to a gooey death he flipped his rifle to full auto, belted out a war cry, and ran forward to meet the lead blob. If he was going out. He was going out with his boots on.
The cries of his fellow marines joined him as they too broke cover to meet their fates. Upon reaching the lead blob the sergeant took the butt of his rifle and slammed it into the lead alien. He was not surprised at all when the thing slurped it out of his hands.
The sergeant drew his side arm, but before he fired he looked up to see the thing bring its axe down on his head before he could fire a shot.
** β Bonk. β ** The blob said as the axe rebounded harmlessly off his head.
** β Bonk. β ** The blob said again, hitting him a second time. The sergeant was so shocked to still be breathing that he just stood there and let the thing tap him on the head with the apparently foam axe.
** β Bonk. β ** A blob next to him said as it whacked another marine on the head with its foam axe.
β What theβ¦ β The sergeant said.
** β Blargle! We told you not to use the teleporters! β ** A much larger blob had appeared and was turning an angry shade of red as it addressed the smaller blobs.
The blob that had smacked the sergeant shrunk back, and then vanished into a silvery mist, along with all of the other blobs.
** β Sorry about that. β ** The remaining large blob said, appearing to someone wring its non-existent hands. ** β You know how kids can be, always so excited to play β invade earth β. Do you mind if we try this again? We were going to make a grand entrance on the lawn before we had the peace talks with your president, and it would be horribly awkward if our first contact scenario was a couple blobblings playing with the local security forces**. β
Edit: spelling and stuff.
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[ CW ] In a world where violence does not exist and there are no words that are associated with it . Write the first murder from the perspective of the victim .
| What was going on? Why was this happening to me? I did nothing wrong, did I? There was no reason this was happening to me. My brother was just jealous of everything about me. Jealous of the fact that I was father's favorite. But no, this was something more than jealousy. This was something that demanded him to act on it, but what was he doing? I felt a sharp blow hit me in the back of my head, like I had fallen, but I was standing up straight. Or at least I was until that thing hit me. I rolled over to see my brother with a club in his hands, a look in his eye I could n't understand. He brought the club down again, and it landed hard on my skull.
I was delirious, barely alive though it seemed, and I was being dragged. My brother must be trying to hide me, hide what he had done. What had he done, though? I do n't understand it. Why would he do this to me out of jealousy? Why would he do this to me because of father? I felt myself slipping away. I could n't speak, could n't hardly see, and could n't hear much, but I heard father come. I must have been hidden by now, as my brother and father were both far away when they spoke. I could n't determine what father asked of my brother, but I heard my brother's reply. With a defiant tone in his voice, I heard him speak one thing before I drifted away completely, `` Am I my brother's keeper?''
( Sorry if it was n't that good. I misread the prompt and went from the murderer's POV first, so reworked it to be correct )
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[ WP ] `` You could have had it all , if you 'd just said 'yes . ' ''
| `` You know, you could have had everything. You could have held control. You could have run the world. I would have been there. I was blind enough. I believed. I was ready to serve on your behalf. You could have had a brilliant commander. Hell, you could have merely denied our revolution a leader. You would have won, were it not for me.'' I gloated slightly as I pressed the knife against his neck.
`` If your bullshit was a *little* more subtle, if your ideology a *little* less hateful, if your armies a little less ruthless, perhaps I merely would have taken the rejection, gone home. Yeah, maybe it was discriminatory bullshit, but that alone was n't enough to make a revolutionary out of me.
But you sent me home upset.'A woman's place is in the home, not in the army of a powerful leader, nor in his service. You would make a fine concubine, if you were n't so ugly.' I wonder, if I had not been so ugly, would I have returned home anyway? Would you still be here, with a knife pressed against your neck?'' I was ranting at this point. I could have just slit his throat, but there was something vindicating about the gloating.
`` I do n't know. It does n't really matter. I went home. And when I went home, my eyes were open. I saw the way your troops burned cities and towns. I saw the way they raped women, men, even children. I saw the way they stole futures and hopes and dreams. I was incensed. I was n't going to sit by and watch anymore!
And I did something. But you know, you could still be controlling a vast empire right now.
You could have had it all, if you'd just said'' I pressed down and slid the knife across his throat as I spoke the final word, ``'yes'''
As I dropped his corpse to the floor, I muttered, `` You were an idiot. But we're free of you now.''
As I left the compound and radioed in the words, `` Target Alpha is dead. Commence operation *New Day*'' I wanted to feel as if I'd won.
But I could n't deceive myself.
I'd lost everything getting here.
( ( Heh. I hope that was reasonably good... I decided to avoid the obvious `` this is about romantic rejection'' overtones from the prompt, and go for a more subtle read about rejection in general. ) )
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[ WP ] It 's a busy summer day for Gangland , the theme park for crooks
| The year is 2032, the location is what we now know as the gangland or gang-island theme park, a small baren island off the coast of California historically known as San Clemente Island.
For many years the US navy had been a responsible keeper of san clemente island, having first acquired the island in 1934 as a training and research facility while protection the natural flora and fauna of the island, that is until august 2016 when something went horrible wrong, many of the details are still classified, its known simple as `` the san clemente incident'' after this event the US navy was no longer to able to use the island for training purposes and as they started looking for a new purpose for this now highly contaminated island.
For some time the island laid dormant, the navy considered various options but nothing seems feasible until after the 2020 elections, soon followed by the controversial MIME agreement*, because of this agreement the navy was able to find corporate partners, this collaboration between the US navy, abcomcastfox the worlds largest media company and G4S-CCA the world largest provider on private security and correction services resulted in San Clemente island being officially named: Gangland theme park and a festive opening was held on the 4th of July 2022.
It started of as a prison, hundreds of inmates where dropt on the island, but the virtual reality shows dubbed Gangland theme park became so popular more people attempted to get onto the island then off it!
So this summer is the 10 year anniversary of the gangland theme park, please be patient as you wait in line - this is a once in a lifetime experience and well worth waiting for.
~ gangland theme park management
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[ WP ] A global important vaccine turns out to have a horrible side effect
| I could n't believe it. They discovered a cure! The suffering has ravaged us for years. The effects were so great that nations banded together in order to have the best and brightest work on a vaccine. Finally, after years and years one was available to not just the richest and most powerful but to anyone who desired it.
The news reporters said that they vaccine would be transported to major cities and then make its way out. My town should be receiving its first batch in approximately a week. I could n't wait.
As the days counted down I noticed something. People seemed to care less. I could n't quite explain it. Places that used to be hubs of activity like New York or London had become far more peaceful and quiet. It was almost like people just had nothing left to say. I scoured the internet in hopes that my suspicions were incorrect. I wanted someone to speak out and express themselves but I could't find anything. Until I stumbled upon a conspiracy site.
These people said that the vaccine did n't prevent the suffering it just made you stop caring. People were in a permanent haze. The drug told their minds that everything was okay and that there was no reason to speak out. No one was saved; they were silenced.
The vaccine was coming to my town tomorrow. The news was saying that it was mandatory. The government feared that people who did not receive the vaccine could cause a mutation to arise that would endanger everyone. For the world's safety, everyone had to get it. I had to run. I ca n't risk losing my mind to be falsely protected. Maybe the conspiracy site was wrong but I was n't taking that chance.
I packed a bag and left in the middle of the night. The site said that colonies were starting to form in the mountains. A rebellion. I could n't believe it.
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[ WP ] An art student forgets that today is the due date for her big art project . Thinking quickly , she decides to hand in a jam sandwich that she brought for lunch , trying to convince her professor that it is in fact art , and has great meaning and symbolism behind it .
| I thought that stupid art project was due next Tuesday, not this Thursday. Why does this always happen to me? How does this always happen to me? This thing has got to be worth at least 30 % of my final grade.
As other student enter the room I see various works of wonder. Beautiful mosaic, smooth marble busts, large portraits of sunny summer days drift by me. My stupid sculpture is sitting at home, half finished, next to a pile of clothes on my bedroom floor. How could I be such an idiot?
Even my jam sandwich looks sadder than normal. It's all floppy and half smashed and warm... and THIS IS IT. Oh, Maddie, you're a genius.
`` Mr. Lentz?'' I ask the man leaning over a desk. He's recording projects that have been submitted and I ca n't help but be a little nervous. How am I going to pull this one out of my ass?
He looks at me over the frames of his glasses. `` Yes, Lyndsay?'' He straightens up and eyes me suspiciously; no doubt questioning my poorly assembled jam sandwich.
`` Uh, It's Maddie. Here... is my... project? It's a symbol of...'' What's the damn thing a symbol of? `` The artist's struggle. It's a symbol of the artist's struggle.''
Mr. Lentz removes his glasses. I do n't think he's buying this.
`` Artist's do n't always have a steady means of income and they're often starving. This sandwich, with only one ingredient, represents that struggle. It also, to a degree, represents how hard it can be to make it through the day. Here we can see that my bread is smashed up, who can say that they, as a true aspiring artist, does n't have days like this? And, also, you can see that it's barely holding together: who of us, has any real idea what we're doing with ourselves?'' A small crowd begins to hover around us. Oh hell, I hope he's buying this shit.
`` Mr. Lentz, my project is so simply made because life is so simply made. Some of us are even here on accident. This jam sandwich is the epitomy of the struggle of an artist's life. This jam sandwich never asked to be here, but it's still striving for greatness.'' I gingerly laid the'project' on his desk. `` I hope you'll accept my use of modern art.''
`` Do you have your rubric?'' Mr. Lentz says checking my name from the project list.
Oh, fuck! The rubric! `` Ah, I forgot that... at home...'' Right next to the real project...
`` Lucky you, I have an extra.'' He slides his glasses back into place and throws a piece of paper my way. Sweet. Now to just fake a confident smile and return to my seat.
How did I pull that off? And what am I going to do for lunch?
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[ IP ] What happens after Captain America knocks over Supermans drink ?
| *Clink, thud*
Superman's beer disappeared into the green carpet. Green Lantern clenched his fists on the side of the pool table, he knew this was going to be bad. Spidey had a similar reaction, burrowing his face into his palm while Wolverine whispered to him `` Watch this Bub. It's gon na be good.''
Superman turned his head toward the Captain, under his breath he muttered `` What did you just do? ``. The american hero looked the man of steel in the eyes `` It's you fault, not mine.''
`` Who's going to pay for this?''
A shiver went through everyone's spine. To be fair, everyone's spine except for Wolverine, that bastard just smiled. So like I said, everyone got pretty freaked out when they heard him.
`` Who's him?'' you ask. Well you see, those people might have been gods amongst men, but they were nothing compared to him. He was THE MAN amongst gods. It did n't matter if you were a super man, an iron man, a spider man or even a wonder woman, he was the barman.
`` I said, WHO'S GOING TO PAY FOR THIS?'' he repeated, visibly annoyed. Tony Stark charmingly approached the barman:'' Look sir, I can get this fixed, first thing in the morning. We do n't -''
`` OUT!'' shouted the owner. Tony stuttered but could n't place a word. `` You! Paying for something in here? That would be a first. My bar is not for cheap, stingy, skirt chasing recovering alcoholics. OUT!''
Iron Man got out of the bar, feeling powerless and ashamed. Nobody knew if the barman meant to throw him out for the night or forever. It was his favorite bar after all, it was pretty much everyones favorite bar. That's why Bruce could n't risk Clark getting thrown out.
Sensing Batman was about to say something, the barman turned toward him: `` Look who wants to pay. Multi-billionaire Bruce Wayne! Come on Brucey, do n't make that face, everybody knows that. But there's one thing nobody knows.''
Batman could n't believe it, he would n't dare.
`` This little boy ca n't handle his liquor. Every drink this guy has ordered has been virgin. Mind you, he's a great customer, tips quite generously even. But he's too much a little girl to drink a real drink.''
A roar of laughter flooded the room and the black knight ran out with a tear on his cheek. The barman began to walk around the patrons.
`` You see, I do n't care about money. I'm like you, I care about justice. So when I ask `` who's going to pay? ``, I do n't want money, I want justice. And the laws here are pretty slack and easy to follow.''
He pointed at the sign over the counter `` No beverages on the pool tables!''. Rogue grabbed her beer before the barman could say anything.
`` I'm a nice man, I run a nice establishment and I'm not a dick about it. Most of the time I turn a blind eye so everyone can enjoy their evening. And honestly, it works great and all most of the time.''
He put his hands around Superman's and Captain Amrica's shoulders. `` But you know what guys? I never liked you both. Each time you come in, you order american beer. I'm pretty sick of keeping piss under the counter so you guys can drink it. I do n't care whose drink it was or who spilled it. You guys will leave and never come back.''
Captain America, trained as a soldier knew when to obey, and politely he said `` I'm sorry sir'' and left. Superman did n't quite get it.
`` This man wo n't quit. Normally, I've got a different problem. I feel like I live in a world made of cardboard. Always ta-''
`` Go home Superman, you're drunk.'' interrepted the barman as he grabbed Supes by the ear and dragged him out. `` Now that this is over, free drink for everyone!''
The crowd cheered for the best hero in existence, the barman. Everyone except the Hulk.
`` What's going on mate?'' asked the barman
`` Puny chrome ball laugh at Hulk's flippers!'' the green giant growled.
`` Yeah, it does that. Here's a bottle of jack, on the house.''
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[ WP ] You are notified that in 24 hours , every human will try to kill you for 1 hour . Your preparation starts now .
| I had 24 hours before I was dead. I had no doubt about this, but I had to try. I scoured for the key to the panic room I had insisted on installing. I set up cameras to see what was going on outside. I set up a couple traps to catch any unsuspecting victims. It was done all this within 8 hours. With nothing else to do I set an alarm to go off in 8 hours and took a nap.
I woke up and and glanced at the clock. I was in instant panic. My alarm did n't go off and I had less than an hour until it started. I quickly grabbed a gun and went into the panic room. 30 minutes....20....10....5... 2... 1. As the final seconds ticked down I had a realization. I lifted the gun to my head and thought, `` I ca n't do this.'' I was only human after all.
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[ WP ] Time only moves when you close your eyes .
| To my Love,
For the first 10 years of my life I spent a lot of time being shipped from specialist doctors and psychologists and psychiatrists and even hypnotists because to the world it seemed like my eyes have never been open. This is because for me, time only moves when my eyes are closed. Eventually my parents decided to let it be when specialists concluded that my condition did not hinder my progress in life, in fact quite the opposite. I had extra time to practice any skill I tried just by opening my eyes. I know what you are thinking would n't people notice that I teleported to the other side of the room or that objects would be there then a split second gone well they did n't, I do n't know if it is part of my ability or if it is because its a force that peoples brain ca n't comprehend but no one has ever noticed a change.
The truth is looking back I probably should have used this power for good. With great power comes great responsibility, That's what I heard anyway but throughout my life I have thought only of myself. I used it to cruise through school and work. I had almost limitless time to achieve any task I was required to do and because people assumed I could n't see I got a easy ride to be honest and I was always happy about that.
I loved my life until I met you. I had never really connected with anybody, Everybody seemed like inanimate theatre props in the play that was my life. I had never minded because I had never really known different and I never had any reason to hope for anything else. I had felt sorry for friends and family who had got themselves in situations that could be easily avoided if they could stop time.
You were beautiful, as soon as I saw you I froze. It was Love at first sight. People say when you meet that one person time freezes, well for me it did. I felt like I stared for days, I had stopped the world turning just to look into your beautiful blue eyes.
I am not sure how it happened but I got talking to you and you liked me. We started dating but as time went on I started to feel a void build up inside me. I slowly realised that although I loved your beautiful smile, your button nose and your olive skin all I would ever be allowed would be a snapshot of your beautiful features. A frozen picture of the woman I loved and over time I yearned for nothing more than to watch your nose flare when you told a little lie about where we were going for dinner or watch your fingers slowly wrap round my hand as we lay together. I would never be able to see the beautiful woman I adored being the funny, smart, wonderful woman you are.
My gift had become my curse and this is why I am writing to you. I can not share another moment of our lives like this. Our wedding was a flipbook to me. Our sons life has been not much more than staggered freeze frames with a voice track of him growing up. I am truly sorry but this is why I have to go, I will be gone by the time you read this letter but know I will always love you and our son and that nothing pains me greater than the fact I have never truly experienced life as you know it.
Just started writing. Be kind... not really rip it apart if you want, only way to get better for sure
Thanks
Edit: Apparently I wrote this like an advanced 5 year old. I have corrected as much as I can but I am tired now so maybe there is a few more mistakes
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[ WP ] It all started with a silly app that calculates your probability of dying in the next 10 minutes , based on your location.Fast forward 10 years , wearables , implants and other technologic advancements lead to a very precise prediction of your risk of dying . One morning you wake up on 99 % .
| The next 10 minutes were critical. Philip whipped out of bed into a prone position on the floor. *Sniper threat clear. * Irritably sweeping the long gray hair that had fallen over his eyes out of the way, Philip grabbed the gun he kept under his mattress and crouched behind his dresser. Only the smallest sliver of Phil β s unshaved face was visible from behind the dresser as he scanned the room paying close attention to the door and windows. It was a small room bare of furniture aside from his small bed, night stand, and dresser. Atop the night stand was a quiet lamp and a book, β The Art of War β by Sun Tzu, which Phil had been reading the night before. Both lay undisturbed. On top the dresser stood only a small framed picture of his daughter. Nothing in the room moved except for the small particles of dust caught midair in the silvery moonlight. Slowly Phil crouched across the room toward like a coiled snake waiting for just the right moment to strike. *Seven more minutes. *
At the door, Phil paused to survey the hallway. One door on either side of the hallway led to other rooms, one of which was open. The last door at the end of the hall opposite Phil β s room was the bathroom which also stood open. The hallway was as still as a graveyard. Moving as silently as a velvet shadow, Phil crossed the hallway to the corner where it turned into the living area. Phil paused at the door to his daughter β s room just long enough to see a small mound of blankets still on her bed. *four more minutes* The living area was as dark as an open grave, but just behind the couch Phil caught a glimpse of a dull yellow light before it disappeared with a snap. Sliding up to the couch, Phil raised his gun and surveyed the area where the light had been. From just on the right, an impenetrable darkness slid into view and grew. The shadow took the shape of a robed person. Wicked, twisted limbs hung down from its head at odd angles like tortured tree branches. Phil could feel sweat building on his palms, and he had to fight to keep his breathing steady. *One more minute. * The robed figure raised a hand toward Phil. Silhouetted against its body, Phil couldn β t see what it was holding. Simultaneously, Phil fired the gun tensing at the last second so the bullet went high while the figure snapped its fingers flooding the living area with artificial light.
The figure screamed. Phil jumped up shouting orders, β DROP YOUR WEAPON! GET ON THE GROUND! β
β Dad? WHAT THE HELL! β the figure in the pink bathrobe with auburn hair hanging in a sleepy mess screamed back. Dropping his weapon to his side, Phil sighed with relief. β What the hell dad! Where did you get that gun? What are you doing out of bed? Why β d you try to shoot me? Just look at the hole in the ceiling. Uugh did you forget to take your medicine last night? β
β I β m sorry Jenny, β Phil β s baritone filled the empty silence Jenny β s voice had left. β I justβ¦ I took my medicine last night. Everything was fine until I checked the calc this morning and it said 99 % β
Jenny β s face tightened into a frown, β show me, β she gestured for Phil to come closer. Jenny pressed a small device to his arm to read his vitals. β Dadβ¦ it β s 66 % not 99 %. You know it β s been around there and dropping steadily ever since your operation last month. If it really was 99 %, you should β ve called for me or phoned the hospital. You β re not in the CIA anymore, dad. β
Retired CIA operative Phil shrugged and sighed, β I suppose you were just up a little early to make coffee and some breakfast too. β Phil took his daughter β s silence as she released his arm as a yes. β Sorry honey, I guess some old habits just die harder than others. β
|
[ WP ] 10 years ago , the United States sent a manned spacecraft into a black hole . The spaceship and all the astronauts re-appeared today , completely unharmed .
| When NASA had sent the Frontier through Cygni, the nearest black hole to earth, it had been assumed that it was very likely it would not return. Mankind had decades before mastered faster than light travel, and had spent the better half of the last century exploring and colonizing vast parts of the galaxy. The Human race was forever moving forward. Never again would they have to fear extinction due to disease or natural disaster. So many hundreds of worlds had been colonized, so many new star systems explored, and yet no evidence of current life had ever been found. There was evidence that life had once tried to gain a foothold on one planet or another over the millenia, even on planets in our own solar system, but every habitable planet we found was devoid of life. Most were the right size, had the right temperatures, even had oceans, but nothing else. So it was that ten years ago NASA put out a call for brave individuals who would be willing to go beyond where anyone else had gone before. Individuals who would risk their lives to answer one of the oldest questions we had: are we alone?
That was the Frontier mission, a colony craft crewed with scientists and splecialists, equiped with the latest technology, who would attempt to pass through a black hole. NASA had been playing with the idea since well before the advent of FTL travel, and had even sent probes and sattelites into Cygni, in hopes of gaining some sort of information. Nothing had come of it, until one of the probes was found. It was discovered floating in space, with no power, 20 years after it had been sent through Cygni. That was enough to get the ball rolling. Within years Frontier had the green light, and ten years ago it launched. 17 brave men and women boarded Fronteir and took it straight into Cygni, and have n't been heard from since. At least, not until today. Today Frontier drifted out of the void.
|
[ WP ] Your life is tied to that of a fig tree . It has never once flowered over the millennia that you have methodically taken care of it . Today , you notice a single flower beginning to grow
| It doesn β t even bear figs, my little tree. I know it must be a fig tree, because I have seen others like it when I go into market; but for all its long life, it has stayed only as tall as I am βa few inches above five feet- and has never once borne either flower or fruit.
It is a strange thing, to know that your life is tied to an object. It is still stranger when that object can not be moved, and when it is so fragile. The terrors I have felt when war, fire or drought came have, at times, almost made me want to cut it down- after all, I have only the word of the monk that my essence is bound up in the fig tree, and for all I know he could have been lying; perhaps I am immortal, and have been trapped in this valley by a man who does not want an immortal person roaming the world. Occasionally, I wondered idly if he were cynically trying to protect his religion. He had said it was a miracle of God, and that I had been blessed with the chance to become the greatest theologian the world had ever seen, but I am not so sure. Other people, I knew, would wonder whether I was a god myself; or, at the very least, a spirit.
Sometimes, I pondered that myself. After the sacking of Antrals, when there was nobody living within a hundred miles of me, I sat staring at the fig tree, thinking- was I the only one? Would I truly live for as long as this tree survived? Was it *worth* it, even, to continue living for so long?
After the monk told me what he thought, I laughed. Then, fourteen years later, I made the trip to his village chapel thirty miles away, and told him that I thought he might be right, or at least partially right. He nodded and smiled, and asked me to let him touch his face; he had gone blind since I last saw him. I was, he said, entirely unchanged from how he remembered me. It was a miracle of God, he said.
I am surprised, really, that I believed him. Or, rather, I know that I didn β t believe him βat least, not at first; what surprises me is that I tended to the tree at all. Any other person, I think, might humour the old man, and then forget all about his duty of care, and so die; I, though, had looked to my little tether from the moment I was first told, and now here I am, nearly two thousand years later.
I can not pretend that I would have chosen this life. And yet, I choose it every day; every time I prune back a branch, or carry the water in its pot out of the house, I am choosing to continue.
The first hundred years were the worst. It was in those times that I watched all those I knew die around me, and that I realised the burden that I carried. *What is it like*, I wondered as a child, reading the myths of Zeus and the other immortal ones; how do they carry one, seeing all those beneath them struggle through their lives and pass away? But they had fellows; they had other immortals, companions that they could love and live happily with, no matter how long they remained.
I have nobody. I had a wife, once; I married her two years after the monk first found me, and she left me two years after I last saw him, the time that he ran his fingers over my face and told me that yes, it was as he had thought. There was a nice symmetry there, I thought, that she should bookend that period of my life in such a way.
Since then, though, I have been careful. I live my life vicariously. I have no desire to hurt somebody by staying unchanging, as my wife was hurt; I have no desire to watch somebody β s pleasure in my youth turn gradually to horror as they look to my face for a reflection of their years, and see only continuing vigour. Or, again, I have no desire to watch the one I love fall slowly away, and die while I count another century on my abacus. Books are the only way that I have survived; it is a curse, and a blessing, this immortality. In a way, I am pleased that I have the tree to keep me here- I fear what I might have become, had I been free to roam the earth. Would I have acted as I know I ought? Or would I have given in to wilder wishes, and become a despot, an exploiter of those who stay as I was meant to be?
I have no answers to such questions. One day, I have faith, I shall be able to pose them to the one who changed my life to how it is, but until then, I can only sit, tend to my tree, and live my odd life as best as I can.
Today, I walk up the well-worn path from my house to the tree. It stands perhaps a minute β s walk from where my garden ends, and a stone β s throw from the edge of a cliff. I used to be worried that perhaps the cliff might fall down someday, and that my tree would fall with it; but the cliff, if it is falling, is doing it in a leisurely fashion, and I have no concerns any more. Let it fall; everything must come to an end at some point.
The morning is crisp and fair; the sky is a pale blue, wisped over with cirrus, and the scent of the pines fills the air. My eyes are on the ground as I walk; I have been reading a book by Aquinas, and there is much occupying my thoughts. I do not look up until I am a few paces from the tree. There is a butterfly on it today; an enormous blue one, with beautiful frilled wings pooled with black. I hold out my hand to it, but it flies away.
Then my legs fall out from under me. There is something underneath the butterfly- a pink bud, growing larger and larger as I watch. It swells, and opens; I do not know what to do. The earthen pot of water slips out of my hands and falls to the floor. The flower spreads it petals, and turns towards the sun.
And then, from my house, I hear a faint cry. It is quiet, but insistent, and I gather myself up and tear myself from the tree.
There is a trail of pink petals leading all the way back to my house, urging me along the path. I do not stop to wonder how they got there; I can feel the blood thumping in my ears, and know only the wish to find the source of that cry.
There is a heap of petals on my doorstep. In the middle, now laughing and waving her arms as she sees me for the first time, is a tiny, bright-eyed baby girl. I clasp her to me, and fall to the floor, crying. For the first time in over two hundred years, I hope fervently that the cliff moves still more slowly than it has been for the last thousand.
|
[ WP ] When a child comes of age their greatest quality manifests itself as a familiar that will follow them for life . You just turned 21 and you still did n't have one , until this morning when two showed up and they terrify you .
| Taylor was silence.
In the world which I lived, where my mind swam in the pools of pills pushed upon me by my parents, the noise which constantly knocked against the inside of my skull would drive me insane. Up all night, I would pull on my hair and want to scream all night. The conflicting forces inside of my mind pulling it apart.
Around my seventeenth birthday, I met Taylor. As strange as it sounds, she kinda just appeared. There was a lot of confusion over where she came from, who her parents were, all of those things. She was soft spoken, not saying much. She did n't confide in many people, did n't usually talk to people unless they prompted it. But she was so nice.
I first met Taylor in the math hall, I was ducking and dodging my fellow students and their companions. Their *friggen familiars*. It seemed like familiars had a stigma around them, like losing your virginity. The older you were, if you did n't have a familiar or you were still a virgin, it haunted you.
Familiars are peculiar. They tend to appear when you fully mature. They usually manifest as your most noticeable character trait. Most people develop deep friendships with their familiars, they get advice and communicate with them. Although occasionally, certain taboo things happen, as the relationship goes too far.
My buddy Tommy was one of the first people I knew to get a familiar. His was a two-headed snake. It was a pretty peculiar one, to have two personalities. Although, they were n't really separate. Always arguing with each other, we figured his attribute was competitiveness. Served him true, he was the captain of the football team.
Then there was his girlfriend, Bailey. Hers took form of a small swan. About the size of a softball, it was pretty obvious by her familiar and herself that she was beauty. They went well together.
Back to Taylor. Within a couple weeks of getting her to open up to me, I was able to have her over for dinner. Wow did she kick it off with my family. I was that weird kid in school, the only reason Tommy was my friend was because I grew up with him, its hard to make friends when you need to take schizophrenia medication halfway through the school day... So my parents were so overjoyed to have me bring a girl home!
Within a month and a half, she was practically living with us. I'm pretty sure I met her parents once or twice, but I was kind of more focused on her. Laying in my arms, her lips on mine, those intimate whispers between her and I... She was quiet, and she brought the tempest in my mind to a halt.
She once told me that she used to have a familiar. Hers was fairly obvious though, silence. An owl, it almost never talked to her verbally, just communicating physically.
It's a traumatic experience, losing a familiar. Usually a familiar lasts for life with their companion. They can only be killed by other familiars on the order of the their familiars human companion. Her father was a harsh man, and his silverback gorilla of strength wrung the owls neck in an instant. She would be haunted by that for the rest of her life.
So we went on, neither of us having a familiar. I did n't understand why I never got one, I seemed to have matured to an adult, I mean... I passed every other right of passage. I got my license, graduated high school, fell in love, it all was going well, but for some reason, I never got mine. That is, until I turned twenty-one.
You have to understand my shock here. Tommy got his familiar at twelve, the oldest someone is known to have gotten their familiar was twenty. Usually, a late bloomer like that was more inclined to have an... Ugly familiar. Hitler, for instance, got his at twenty, and we saw how that worked out. If you did n't have your familiar by twenty-one, it was usually because you had some kind of mental insufficiency that limited them to a childlike mentality.
I woke up the morning after a night of drinking with a monstrous headache. Taylor was n't in much better shape. I had managed to convince her to go out to a bar that night to celebrate with me, and we had fun. That ground to a halt though when I noticed him...
____
I woke up and instantly closed the blinds to our room. That's when I noticed the two red eyes looming in one corner of the room, near the ceiling. I felt my stomach somehow drop even further. I nudged Taylor, and with a slight groan, she rolled over.
Her face went pale, pearl white. It was already pale, but every ounce of color left her skin.
`` No.'' She whispered.
`` Yesss.'' A broken voice hissed from the eyes.
`` No. No no no!'' I had never heard Taylor scream like that. `` You do n't get two, you ca n't get two!''
I was so confused. `` Taylor, what are you talking about?''
`` You ca n't get two familiars, and you're too old for a familiar!''
`` What are you talking about two familiars? I do n't have a familiar!'' Although I knew it was way too late to be a good sign, I would be lying if I said I was n't kind of excited. Taylor was horrified.
`` You're right, you do n't, but... But.''
`` Sheeeeessss lying.'' The voice hissed.
`` Shut up!'' She screeched back at it. `` You do n't have a familiar.''
`` Yessss, you do. A very unique ooooone. She has a name.''
`` *Shut up! *''
It all kind of clicked in my mind at that instant. I had n't ever met her parents, she had never had a familiar, there's a reason she was so perfect for me, why she confided in me, why she brought the storm to a halt...
Terror opened in Taylor's eyes, as the beast began to chuckle. `` Gerald, you have to understand. I know it's forbidden, but you needed to feel love and to be loved. It's wrong, but I knew that you would reject me as a familiar, but not...''
The beast began to chuckle louder and louder. The room started to shake, wind howling indoors, windows blew out, furniture was moving, the noise in my head started to match that in the room and I realized... The second familiar was rage.
|
[ WP ] [ RF ] `` The Last American ''
| As I look around, all I see is the deserted waste where great cities once stood. I found myself grappling with many questions, but any answers I came up with were surely too late to be useful at this point, I had to move on. I had to keep looking, surely there was somebody else who survived, anybody, I'd even settle for one of *them* as a companion, something other than this crushing loneliness.
After some time however, after searching so many places, somewhere in the back of my head, a voice kept whispering `` It's too late... You're all alone now....'' but no. That ca n't be, 3 billion people in the whole country, and I'm all alone? Impossible. Even in this city, barely recognisable after the blasts that tore it apart, contained 500 million people, at least, and could it all be gone? I picked up whatever was scavengable, usually from a remaining bunker from the old arms races, and moved on. I had to move on, I had to keep moving, to stay still was to die.
When I arrived at the next city, some months later, I recognized it in the most horrible way imaginable. This was the city where it all started, this is where I triggered the end of the world, and how, you might be wondering? All that happened was a spilled cup of coffee on the wrong control panel, and suddenly half the world was up in arms, ready for war, with the other side following, mere seconds after. But after the missiles went up, and the satillites activated, there was no stopping what happened. There was no stopping, this.
I still do n't entirely understand it all, why this scare was any different than the others, why this scare reduced my world to a grim, pale, wasteland. Perhaps this is hell, and I've been dead all along, that would certainly explain the heat, but then where are the demons from the stories, the endless torture, the brimstone, the fire? Unless that's all gone now too, and I am forever forced to wander this wasteland, hoping to be anything other than, the last american.
|
[ WP ] During combat in a real historical battle , the enemy suddenly does something completely unexpected
| On the 7th day of battle, Xerxes emerged from his vast army. Flanked by rows of his Immortals, the God-King of Persia strode forth with supreme confidence. His offer was simple, to spare the soldiers of Sparta and to recruit them for his war. Previous entreaties had failed, offers of wealth and women rejected, even threats to their families and homes had been scoffed at.
At this point, it was a mere formality for Xerxes to offer terms of surrender again. The thought of the impending battle put a slight spring in Xerxes' step, perhaps he might capture the flippant King of Sparta and bring his head back home upon a spear.
Thus, it was with great surprise that Xerxes saw that Leonidas was already waiting for him, flanked by his own Spartan elite. While the Persian had been engaging in debauchery and gluttony in the back lines, the Spartan had been contemplating the survival of Sparta. Leonidas had weighed the arguments on both sides, honor versus survival, and he had found honor to be sorely lacking.
With that momentous decision, Sparta turned on its Greek brothers and put them to the sword. The feared Spartan armies became the vanguard of the Persian conquest, hell-bent on earning their keep in the God-King's new empire.
|
[ WP ] You accidentally triggered a nuclear explosion that killed half of the population . This is your apology letter to the human race .
| Okay, okay, I pressed the button. What do you want me to say?
'Sorry?'
I would apologize, but putting a high school kid in charge of overseeing our biggest nuclear weapons base was not the best idea. Sure, no dictators or riled up terrorist groups would think to harass someone unassuming like me for the most important codes on the planet, but c'mon. I've got ADHD and a track record for petty crime. What did you think would happen?
I mean hell, how was I supposed to know that Bill was smoking all those tabs and went psycho in the control room? I did n't know he put the admin command system in enabled mode!
I press the master button constantly on accident. I ca n't sit still. That's what the backup admin system was for, to keep me from blowing half the globe into space! How was I supposed to know that the 134th time I accidentally sat on the master button, that it would actually go off?
It sucks but who came up with this crock of a plan?
Do n't even get me started on the higher ups. Our supervisors know how stupid everyone who works down here is and did n't even think to label the buttons on the switchboard. Maybe they should have kept the button in a locked room instead of with a kid on the other side of the world. Maybe they should have made it wireless and sent it into space.
Well. At least school's cancelled tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that...
....Maybe this wo n't be so bad after all!
|
[ WP ] Technology has advanced to the point no one alive has seen or even heard of a naked flame ; one day a fire starts .
| The square was quiet, only a few afternoon merchants milling about. Mareena had scoured the stalls, but nothing had really stood out. Pretty trinkets, some views she had n't seen but had no real interest in, and of course the food.
She wondered why there were stalls for food still, the energy intake from one of those bundles was a few days' worth at least. She chalked it up to tourists and children, and the two were found together anyway, so it made sense. She glanced up at the sky, shimmering blue and white with the Baumer shield that kept the town safe. She wondered briefly what the sky looked like without the shield, then dismissed the thought. There were a good dozen views in the stall that showed reality and fantasy in crystal clear holographics that she had seen so many times over.
Her own Baumer collector beeped, announcing to the world that she was, apparently, hungry. A nearby energy platform with crystalline facet balls beckoned, she sauntered over and let the Baumer devices interact to take care of the needs of her body. She relaxed and let her mind drift to the words of a book her implants had memorized but she had not yet read. Or maybe she had, and had removed the memory already. Either way, the book was good.
A dull throb in her side woke her from her focused/unfocused state. Glancing around, she noticed a red light alerting her to a malfunction in the platform. She walked off and glanced at the sky. Apparently a few hours had passed as she had enjoyed the prose. No matter.
She frowned and took a closer look at the Baumer shield. Fluctuations of blue and yellow coursed through it at speeds she had never seen before, not even in views. She smiled, curious at the new display. Perhaps the engineers had found a new configuration and were showing off.
Slowly the fluctuations vanished and the shield dimmed to a dark blue, then fading away into red. Her smile faltered, red prisms were n't a part of any Baumer device, she knew that much.
Then she realized, the shield was gone. This was the sky, unblocked by the energy-collecting shield that powered and protected their city. She began to feel a pressure at her side, boring into her as her personal Baumer dampeners tried to take on the immense heat from the sun. A searing, tearing, consuming pain she had no name for tore into her with a viciousness she could not understand and drove her to her knees. For some reason a word in an ancient book floated to her mind -- *burning*. Yes, that is what this is. Her brain and implants dutifully analyzed and stored this new information, even though they were quickly being overloaded by the excess energy.
As her face hit the ground, she saw others falling as well, their skin melting and dripping away. The stalls that she had dismissed and disparaged only a few hours ago were coloured by some strange red and yellow view effects. It seemed uncontrolled, wild and somehow *unleashed*. The stalls themselves began to blacken under the effect, how strange.
Then, as her consciousness faded, a word from the old history book found her and she knew the thought her tortured mind formed was true.
Fire... this was fire.
|
[ WP ] The entire Star Wars series , all 7 movies , are released as one book , written by Dr. Seuss .
| Two Jedi, Keepers of Peace in space,
Arrive to meet representatives of the Trade Federation, Face-to-Face
No Peace would be upheld
As these talks and such, as the history books put them, had failed
Barely Escaping with their lives,
Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon Jin gave each other a swift High-Five
They then found themselves on Naboo
Meeting up with Jar-Jar Binks, and many other Gungans too
Boss Nass permits them safe passage to the Queen
Though only after a Jedi Mind Trick made it so, sight unseen
They then traveled beneath the sea, which was their wish
Narrowly escaping a dreadful fate, thanks to the saying `` There's always a bigger fish''
They saved the Queen and tried to escape from Naboo
Luckily, they were saved by a little droid nicknamed `` R2''
On Tatooine, they soon did land
Only to find it filled to the brim, with endless sand
Shortly after, Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan met a boy
Anakin Skywalker was his name, and C-3PO; his toy
After meeting Anakin, Qui-Gon Jinn could n't stop his brain from following this one course;
`` Could this boy bring balance to the Force?''
They needed to save him from Watto, for he was a slave
They knew it would take all of them to be quite brave
Qui-Gon bet on Anakin to win at a podrace
He did n't let anyone down, and ended up in first place
As they tried to leave the planet, Darth Maul showed his horned face
With a double-sided Lightsaber, he gave our heroes quite the chase
They made it out, thanks to Qui-Gon Jinn
Though it did n't quite feel like the greatest win
Our heroes than soared to Coruscant, the Capital of the Republic, and a Planetwide City
To meet with the Jedi council, one giant committee
The council sensed a darkness deep inside Anakin
They refused to allow his training to begin
Qui-Gon said, `` No No!''
`` This boy will be my apprentice, I will make it so!''
- End part 1
|
[ WP ] Those with a terminal illness and over 6-months to live can donate their living body to 'The Facility ' in exchange for their families receiving $ 1M . Nobody knows what goes on inside the facility , but the car 's here to pick you up .
| It was a hearse.
Jared laughed. What else could he do? They sent a damn *hearse* to pick him up. Ms Rodriguez would tell him to run right now. *Jared*, she'd say in her elementary school teacher voice, *this is an obvious case of foreshadowing. You should run, boy. Run like your daddy's coming for you. *
Of course, Jared could n't run. He could n't even stand. His wheelchair did have spinning rims though. As the old man watched the hearse, waiting for the door to open, he idly reached down and spun one of the rims. Envy of the crippled, he was.
The door opened.
A normal guy got out. A bit on the heavy-side, brown hair, no features that stood out. The man walked over to Jared and grabbed him without a word, bringing him over to the hearse.
`` Hey,'' Jared said, `` you are n't Michelle. I mean, I know I cheaped out, but they sent *you* to suck me off?''
The man stayed silent as he used a free hand to open to the back and nearly toss Jared into the car.
`` Nice model, what is it, an'02,'03? Love the paint job. Black. Very original, you-''
He was cut off as the hearse's door slammed closed. Jared smiled. Few things could bring joy to the nearly dead and insubordination ranked among the top.
The ride was pretty quiet, silence occasionally broken by Jared's jokes. He could have been a stand up comedian, if only he had n't bombed at the *Laughing Factory* when he was 12. Damn childhood traumas, haunt you forever.
`` You're gon na die.'' Ms Rodriguez's voice seemed to almost speak to him. Jared actually turned his head to make sure he was just hearing it. `` Read the situation, boy.''
Jared frowned. His family already received the money. *Giving Hands* was heavily regulated by the government and they would n't be allowed to take back the money. Would they?
Either way, what could he do? He was a crippled old man with a death sentence.
The hearse pulled up to a warehouse and the driver grabbed Jared and put him in his chair. The man walked to the doors and Jared followed on spinning rims.
*Giving Hands*, a company worth billions, had a pretty shitty warehouse. It was painted a solid white, in stark contrast with the hearse. Jared wheeled his way in the doors and looked around.
A waiting room.
*Run, boy, * Ms Rodriguez's voice echoed in his head. *While you still can. *
They say curiosity killed the cat, but if the cat was 75 and had terminal cancer, was n't the mystery being solved worth it?
Jared moved his hands to the wheels, but not to move. He instead flicked the rim into a lazy spin.
|
[ IP ] Those who play for ghosts
| `` Notes, please.'' By this point, Thomas was more bored with the day's progress than anything.
`` Goddammit,'' he mumbled, scratching off the last few notes. They were all wrong. Again. He continued playing again, testing around for the perfect sound.
His stomach rumbled again. *I'll eat when I find it, * he reminded himself. He thought back to the first day he'd found the book. The song he found inside - it was only partially completed, yet it absolutely floored him. He had to finish it. And after only a few hours, he'd found the next three notes for the song. He hit it, and it was perfect. He *knew*. He'd felt a high unlike he'd ever felt before.
And he was, three days later. As time bore on, he started hearing advice on how to continue. One by one, they'd suddenly appear, adding themselves to the chorus of opinions. All past collaborators, all useless. Even with their lives, they could n't finish it. But *he* could. He knew he could reach that ecstasy again.
Thomas played the song again. But this time, he heard it. Those last three notes - the ones he added - they were shit. He could do better. He brushed his hair out of his eyes, and felt a clump fall out into his hand. He'd worry about that later.
|
[ WP ] As a necromancer , you do n't get as many girls/guys in your magic school as the charming flowermancer . How do you win over your crush ?
| `` I do n't know what to do, Sam.. Like whats the point anymore?'' I mumbled as I stared down at my Revival scroll.
It's only been a year in this damned school, and I'm already in love. I promised myself that this wo n't ever happen again. It just ca n't, I ca n't go through the same shit again. But I ca n't blame myself; she was perfect, and who can resist perfection? When her eyes are as green as the luscious gardens of Etlher, and as deep as the five seas of Lorgath, how can I resist them? I could get lost in them for hours and I would n't even complain. Her apple-red cheeks are something straight of heaven, and her smile.. Oh god, her smile! It's all I need in my life...
But I ca n't. Not again. I ca n't endure the same pain.. Why am I even in this school? At the age of just 20, I can revive the dead better than any Master Necromancer in Lorgath. But nooooo, I have to `` prove it'' to them, Pfffft... I mean just look at this Revival scroll, is this fucking Necrogarten?
Thank god for Sam, though. I mean he's the only person I can actually trust in this incongruous place. He's the only one that understands me. If everyone was like Sam, then this place would n't actually be half bad. At least we would n't have people like that fucking Flowermancer prancing around school like he owns the place. I really do n't see why girls even like him.. I just do n't see it.
But who cares about the other girls? All I care about is Lucy. Oh her gorgeous glistening hair, and her ravishing body. And her smile.. oh her smile is all I need. But I ca n't, I really can't.. Not again.
Although.. maybe.. just maybe.. it might be different. Maybe it wo n't come with all the pain I had to go through. Maybe Lucy is the epitome of what I've been seeking in this treacherous land. Maybe everything will make sense if I just.. go for it.
`` I do n't know what to do, Sam.. Like whats the point anymore? She's obviously into this'HEY MY NAME IS TREK AND I'M FLOWERMANCER BOOBLA BLA BLOA' idiot. I do n't know why. Maybe he actually is better than me...''
`` Oh comeon, do n't go soft on me.. `` Sam said as he smacked me on the head
Sam had a girlfriend. Something I did n't, so I was just seeking sage advice.
`` Look, just go for it,'' Sam replied with a big smile `` I mean what have you got to lose? ``
I look back at him as I sigh in disbelief.
`` I know, I know... Well, I actually do n't, you never explained to me...'' Sam continued, `` but from what I understand you were hurt in a relationship.... So what? You think you're the first one to get hurt? You think the last one to get hurt? Everyone gets hurt every once in a while, it's just how it is. But the real winners are the ones who get back up, brush their shoulders, and keep moving forward.''
`` You know what you're right..'' I replied excitingly,'' maybe it's going to be different this time. Maybe it will actually work out.''
`` I'm sure it will'' Sam said as he placed his palm on my back, `` you know what, you should actually go talk to her now while you're so hyped up!''
`` YOU KNOW WHAT?! I will!'' I said as I started running with my back towards the hallway.
I was actually doing it. I was going to tell Lucy how I felt... that I never actually needed help wrapping up my Revival scrolls, but I just dreaming of the chance of touching her hand as she was doing it. That I never actually needed tutoring in animal Resurrection, but instead I was prancing around the hope of seeing her smile during those hour long sessions. Oh her smile.. it's all I need.
Maybe she'll smile when I tell her that I love her. Oh, god.. that's all I need. Maybe when we get together I'll get to see her smile everyday.. Oh god.. that's all I need.
But I have to find her first. I'm sure she's sitting somewhere here in the courtyard... Maybe next to Molly and Tre..k
`` ARE THEY KISSING? IS SHE KISSING FUCKING TREK?!'' I said to myself angrily as my sight slowly started to fade.
`` NO, I CA N'T GO THROUGH THIS AGAIN, NOT AGAIN. NO.''
`` No...'' I said as I slowly started to breathe slowly again.
I could n't believe my eyes. I was just about to spill my heart out to this girl.. and she does this to me. It's the same shit all over again.. It's Elizabeth all over again..
I sat down on the bench in the courtyard blankly staring at the ground. Before I knew it, it was midnight. I stood up, as I knew exactly what I should do. I did n't need to ponder. I knew how to get Lucy, and I was going for it. There was only one way and it was my only chance to see her smile again.. oh, her smile...
I started heading towards the Lucy's room. I knew it was 213, as she once told me it was the opposite number of my room; 312. I stood outside looking at the windows, and I start to count down from Sam's room, 224, until I reached Lucy's room.
I lodge myself through her window, and I can see her sleeping like the angel she is. She has one of those cute pink Pajamas on, and she was hugging a tiny brown teddy bear. when she's sleeping. She's just perfect.
I brush hair off her cute sleeping face, and I just admire her beauty for a minute.
`` It's going to be OK,'' I whisper in her ear, as I lurk closer, `` everything is going to be OK.''
Lucy starts to slowly open her eyes, and before she can fully do so, I lodge my knife into her throat.
`` Shhhh angel. It's the only way... I love you.''
She starts bleeding out slowly, but she still looks fucking adorable. I grab her fleeting body over my shoulder and head towards my room.
I kick my door open, and I gently place Lucy on the ritual circle. I then open my revival scroll and I started channeling it aloud.
`` ZinZa ko le ma Zinza ko le ma Zinza Ko le ma ta ma ta maa Zinza ko le ma ta ta ta ma la''
Lucy's body starts to rise, and slowly she starts to revive.
`` Yes. Now we can be together forever, my love. You, me and Elizabeth.''
Lucy look's me straight in the eye, and starts crying.
`` No no no no. Smile, baby. Please smile Lucy. Please smile. It's all I ever needed.''
But Lucy did n't smile. She has n't smiled, yet.
But she will one day...... just like Elizabeth did.
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[ IP ] The Beginning is Near
| He wandered through the ruins of the once great city and now the last bastion for those who wished to remain here waiting for the end, surrounded by others like him, just wishing to stay and enjoy the solitude and the tragic beauty of what was happening around them. Or the scientists using these final months to dedicate to the study of what was happening and how it was happening, with the complete consensus as to what was going to happen, and that two generations ago, regardless of the system and planet they were from, that they would not have imagined this to be how the universe ended and that the whole thing felt more like science fiction than reality. Then there were the religious, those who stayed in prayer and meditation, from whichever religion they came from originally, it did not matter, they all adapted their respective rituals for these finals days, where they all came together and realised the ultimate god they all worshiped must be the universe itself, it has been the ultimate provider and now it was taking back what is has provided. As for the rest, millions upon millions, braved the gravitational call back to the universes center which all else was converging upon, and left to find a safe haven, somewhere that was not meeting this inevitable fate.
The man continued on, with only one place in mind, as he stared upon the decaying buildings and navigated the convoluted streets. Thinking about how it has only taken a couple of centuries to do this to this once thriving metropolis of galactic trade and then the scientists throughout the Milky Way discovered it, that the universe was no longer expanding and was in fact in reverse, and had been doing so some time prior to the discovery. As he understood it, it was like the universe was taking a deep breath in, and scientists were wondering if it was not the first time, for it would explain ancient Big Bang theory as the breathing out cycle and that the universe was forever in this cycle. The man wondered if that were the case how many times prior to this that scientists had made that discovery. With that his thoughts were broken up by a booming announcement over the still working PA system.
**Everyone still here, we feel we should warn you that the end for us here, we believe the planet is about hit intense gravitational pulls and as result will be ripped apart. Thank you all for making this a worthwhile and enlightening end. That is all. **
By the time the announcement had finished, the man had reached vantage point he was heading towards and where he was planning to spend his very final moments. A wall at the edge of the city with a clear view of the strange plains of planet with its peculiar flora but more importantly for him, a clear view of the new twisted sky he had come to know and love, filled with varying planets and nebulae all visible with the naked eye.
`` So,'' he whispered quietly to himself pouring a final drink, `` the end is hear and the beginning is near.''
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[ WP ] You are a firework about to be launched . Describe your last moments like a soldier who is about to take on attack of the biggest battle . In life or death of the outcome .
| This is it. This is my time to shine.
My helmet feels tight against my long frame. I settle in on my stabilizer. I look to the stars and pray. Pray I will be among them. That I will serve like my brothers in arms. That I will make those before me proud and those after me inspired.
Two ranks before me, I saw one soldier go down. I'm not sure what happened, a system failure perhaps. He launched beautifully. Soaring against the speckled pitch. But when he reached his peak, he descended rapidly. He did n't make his mark. My heart sank as fast as he did. He served, he made it back alive but forever scarred and injured. I knew he would not return.
I shifted a bit on my stabilizer waiting for the spark of ignition. A coin flipping in my head. Would I burst brightly or would I be left burned and tossed away?
The spark sounds behind me and my eyes fix themselves on the stars.
This is it. This is my time to shine.
( criticism welcomed/wanted, new to this subreddit )
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[ WP ] What does n't kill you makes you stronger . Each time that you escape death you grow in power . Eventually the world is filled with super powerful human beings .
| All I can really say about it, is that there is absolutely *nothing* like it. If you had the balls to find out for yourself what it was like, you'd do it too. Hell, I think everyone would. And they say everyone can do it. Of course, not everyone does because most people are normal. Normal. Know what I think that word means? I think it means that you're too chickenshit to bet on yourself, and then you live all safe with your friends who are also too chickenshit, and then you rot your life away in a broken-down shithole neighborhood like where I grew up, eating and drinking yourself to death, and you all tell yourselves that you're better off than we are. I think that's what normal is.
Man, I'm glad I ai n't *normal*.
I'll tell you how it happened for me, and it's not the same for everyone. Everyone does n't get the same slice of the power. Me, I've never been much tougher or stronger than the other guy, but I had balls. Everyone back in the neighborhood always said I did. I had balls, but what I also had that most of the guys did n't pick up on was ears, and eyes. Sure, I got my ass kicked sometimes, but I won a lot more fights than I lost, and maybe I started them because I had a big mouth or I would n't put up with the other kids being disrespectful to my sisters or my friends, but I'll tell you how I ended them. I ended them because I *paid attention*.
Ol' Vince Giordano, Geordi we used to call him from that space show, Geordi had 6 inches and 50 pounds on me, but I beat the ever-loving snot out of his shit-mouthed face when I was 14 and all the guys went on about it for weeks later about it. Me, all's I did was just sat there watching him talk, digging himself in deeper, and when I saw he was going to punch me, well I just punched him first and harder. I saw it, like, in my mind, what he was going to do and before he did it, I did it first to him, and hard. Cause that's how you fight. That's really all there is to it, you see it coming, you do something about it. He was going to hit me and I fuckin clocked him right in his head, in the temple. I was short but I reached all the way up there and knocked him out cold and when he woke up he said that he did n't even take a swing at me but I saw it coming. Swear to God I did.
Anyways, then I got out of high school and joined the Army, because you know, the pay is good and see the world and all that. And then they sent us to that sandy shithole because of oil, you remember? Right? And that's when it really started happening.
Because we were all out on patrol in the middle of it, sand for miles around, when I got the flash again just like when I was a kid. Only thing is, *no one was there*. But I knew that I was going to be shot just like I knew when Geordi was going to take a swing at me, and I do n't know how to say it except for it was just like if I was throwing a baseball at your face. You'd duck out of the fucking way, right? Sure you would. That's what I did, I ducked out of the way of it, only what it looked like was I just threw myself to the ground out of nowhere and then my buddy Dave, this redneck dude from Kentucky, his left arm almost explodes clean off at the shoulder because the sniper round that was supposed to go in my head did n't, and then it went in his arm. And then we returned fire, and the whole time it was crazy, like you ca n't really dodge bullets, right? Except I was. Honest. Swear to God, it was like I was in some sixth dimensional time warp shit where I knew just where I had to be to not get hit. I was lighting them the fuck up, but three of my friends, obviously they did n't know where to be because two of them died, and the third guy who lived... well, take a guess how *he's* doing now. You read the papers, you probably already know, right?
So pretty much, that was the first time I dodged enough death for the power to you know, start kicking in, and like I said it's different for everyone, but for me I just pay attention like I said. I just look and listen, and I ai n't afraid to fight back. So I get out of the way, and after that first tour the word spread about my mojo.
That other guy, the one who lived, that guy started healing like fucking Wolverine, from X-Men, that guy is real fuckin hard to kill now. Because just like me, everyone's power gets stronger and stronger the more death they survive. But everyone makes a bigger deal out of his power because it's just like the comic books and shit and then there's that one dude who ca n't burn or freeze and they all worship his ass too because *his* power is straight out of the fuckin comics, too.
All these people with the big fancy powers doing these big fancy things, and then there's me. Jimmy the Rabbit. Yeah, they started calling me that cause apparently seeing the fuckin future when it comes to your own ass just looks like you have *way* more luck than other people, you know, like I'm made of rabbit's feet and shit. Plus, I ai n't that tall. So when they take me along on the special missions now with the other people with power, I'm like their good luck charm, cause I know when shit's going to happen, and where to be when it does.
So that's how I became the Rabbit. Yeah. Great fuckin superhero name, right? Actually, I do like it now. And you know all the rest that we found out later, about how they say everyone who lives through some crazy shit can get powers, and they are all different, that's what they think. Of course, not everyone *lives* through crazy shit. And then, not everyone tries to live through it again. And then, not everyone makes a fuckin business out of it like we do. So the whole world ai n't gon na be heroes anytime soon. Only us, who had the balls or the craziness to dance with Death, only us. We're the heroes.
Enjoy your dinner.
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[ WP ] There has been reports lately of a taxi driver that picks up people , but they 're never to be found after . You find this out a few minutes into your ride in their taxi .
| `` Oh shoot!'' Mary clucked her tongue and nervously glanced around for shelter as the clouds finally broke and a torrent of rain gushed from the sky. Her mother used to say rain storms like this - the ones which come upon suddenly and give everything they have for as long as they can - they were God's way of washing away the sin in the world. As an adolescent, Mary had rolled her eyes and ignored her. As she was approaching her 50s though, she was starting to understand her mother more and more. She missed her mother dearly, a phrase she would never have expected to ever use. Elizabeth Kitchler was not a pleasant or kind woman.
Just as Mary was about to just continue walking - she was soaked anyway - a cab pulled over beside her. She smiled gratefully, casting a brief glance upwards. She could n't say if she was staring at the rain or at God in thanks. Either way, she scampered into the backseat and sat heavily with a huff. `` Thank you so much for pulling over, that rain was awful nasty!'' she said sweetly.
The cabby just grunted, `` Where to?''
`` Oh, um...'' To be honest, Mary had n't been going anywhere in particular on her walk. She had just wanted to stretch her legs and get out of the house for a bit. The kids were busy doing whatever it is they do on those awful devices and Andrew was still at work. Now that she was in the back of the cab though, all of this seemed silly. She had to tell him *somewhere*. `` 53rd Maple Street, please.'' Yes, she would drop in on her sister for a visit. A pleasant way to spend a Saturday afternoon, for certain. She would call the house from there, make sure the kids knew where she had gone.
The cab started moving forward without a word. There was a news station droning on in the background. Mary could hear the voices, but could n't quite make out the words.
`` How'bout them murders?'' the cabby grunted. His voice was deep, and she could tell he was a smoker.
`` Murders?'' she enquired, startled.
`` Yeah, have n't you been payin' attention to the news?'' He sounded annoyed with her.
`` No, I suppose I have n't. There's nothing but bad news out there anyway. I'd rather watch my cooking shows or my soaps,'' she admitted with a chuckle. `` Though my husband does love those political shows. Hard to believe that attack on Parliament, huh?''
He grunted again. What a rude man, she thought. `` They're sayin' people are just up and disappearing. I'm thinkin' it's murders. 3 of'em, so far.''
She was intrigued in spite of herself. She hated hearing about crimes - made her worry even more about Evalynn, out there in Vancouver without any family. Was n't right for a young woman, especially her daughter. Her mother would be rolling in her grave at the thought. `` I have n't heard anything about it. Do they know what's happening?''
`` Yeah. Been gettin' into taxis, regular joes, and then boom! Just vanish, like ghosts or some shit.''
Mary's heart started to race. Her eyes flickered over to the door handle. Taxis? Why would he be telling her this? Did n't he know it would make her uneasy? Maybe that was his point... maybe he was toying with her. She cleared her throat nervously. `` Very sad,'' she muttered.
`` Yup. Poor smucks. Guess you ca n't trust nobody these days.''
Mary breathed a sign of relief as the taxi turned onto Maple street. Soon she would be with her sister and forget this whole thing. As her daughter would say, what a creep!
She quickly paid, leaving a good tip just because she did n't want to wait for her change, and practically raced to her sister's doorstep. She knocked as she turned back around to watch the taxi pull away.
The door was pulled open so suddenly Mary jumped back. Carol was standing there, tears pouring down her face. `` Mary! Mary, I've been calling and calling, oh my God, oh Mary!''
`` What's wrong? What happened?'' she demanded, herding her sister inside.
`` It's Andrew,'' Carol said solemnly, eyes huge. `` They've just arrested him, Mary. They... they found a b-body. There was an accident - this damn rain! - and he's fine, he's fine, but in his trunk... in his trunk, they found it.''
Mary froze. Oh God.
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[ FF ] What it means TO LIVE ( 250 words )
| Remember when you were five years old? The world used to tower above you. The maple tree in your backyard looked like a redwood. Everything was so big and grand. The bigger things were, or the more remarkable something was, the more it confused you. Confusion was n't so scary back then, though. Confusion was curiosity's mother, and curiosity was your best friend.
Remember the first time you caught a glimpse of the stove? You had to stand on your tip toes to get a good look at it. Your eyes probably widened in curious delight when one of the burners started to glow bright red. There was probably something beautiful and hypnotic about that glow - something that you could n't understand at the time. All you probably knew in that moment is that you *wanted* to understand. You wanted to reach out and make contact with that mystery, because it just might've been able to show you something new.
It probably did - and you probably hated it.
Not everything in life burns, though many things do. We've all been burnt up at some point, or at many points. It's hard not to feel like you're covered in third degree evidence of life's charring. In fact, more days than not, that's exactly how I feel. Charred up. A collection of ashes that somehow still manages to retain human form. One thing keeps those ashes from completely scattering into the wind.
Childlike curiosity of the big and grand. It never really left me.
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[ WP ] `` It 's human-made , you know ! '' Reverse the usual fantasy scene where somebody gushes over elf/dwarf/whatever craftsmanship .
| `` It's human-made, do n't you know!''
There it was, that damnable call again. I could hear him over the sound of my carefully balanced forge roaring, the echoing clink of hammering - hammering I've done since I was a wee one - still in my ears. But he was out there, peddling those... those *mistakes* like he would earn his millionth coin...
Who am I kidding, he's richer than I ever was running this smithy, and he's only the salesman.
I set my hammer down. The raw iron lump that I was to slowly tease and work into a masterful dagger would take weeks to complete. I had overheard that beardless bastard talking once; in the same amount of time, he could procure several hundred swords, at a fraction the cost, delivered right to the encampment of the buyer's choice. His Lordship Julnar, his family long a patron of mine, did n't even reach my front door. As I stood back from the blazing heat of the forge, staring into the embers, I recalled the conversation, feeling ice welling up inside of me to battle the heat on my skin.
`` Hundreds? Where would he find the time?''
`` M'Lord, we work fast and pour faster. Feel this blade.''
``... It's heavy, and off balance.''
`` Now please, M'Lord, take a swing at this post.''
**THUNK**
`` See how easily it still bites? A true Knight needs a weapon made for himself, to his arm's exact abilities... with this, you could have the simplest farmer cutting the head off an Orc.''
`` Hmm... but it seems so, well, flimsy. Dwarf-crafted blades rarely break.'' *My heart had swelled at this point, I was listening intently hoping to make my entrance. *
`` And their smiths rarely accept this fact. Have you ever gotten one to repair a blade because of his mistake?''
``...'' *The longer his silence, the deeper my heart feel. *
`` Why even bother with a smith? If you'll allow me, M'lord?''
There had been the creaking of leather and wood, the familiar rush of heat as a mini forge was stoked... barely hotter than an oven. Surely, he did n't mean to...
`` My word!''
`` Yes, M'lord. Why bother the smith, when even your farmers can repair and reforge a sword in their own home?'' *I had to resist looking out, to see with my own eyes this... this blasphemy. Only the best smiths could work their own weapons, and I knew this merchant was no smith. *
``... Do your kind make armor, the same way?''
That had been a moon's turn ago. He was out there again, his cart bigger and brighter for his Lordship's coin. The past few weeks had seen the drafting of many of the city's laborers into a militia, equipped with those cheap, disposable human weapons, ready to march out with the actual army... the same army that was starting to see the usefulness in weapons that can be mended in the field.
Humans. They did n't just produce cheap goods. They provided the means for civilians to get involved in war and bloodshed, each equipped the same. No good will come of it.
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[ WP ] At one random point one day without warning , everyone blacks out & wakes up as a different animal .
| What my brothers and I had worked for over 11 years had come to pass. We did not know the hour when it would happen, but our Sacrifice was received; we awoke through new eyes.
Mercilles towered over me, a rhapsody of brown shaggy fur, small dark eyes and large, pointed teeth. He rumbled in what I took to be satisfaction. His claws were the size of switchblades, and his snout was pointing right towards me. Mercilles had loaded the dice to give himself such a magnificent form, just as he had loaded the dice for us.
Next to me, I could only assume it was Sarangesset who stirred. Befitting his wise and cunning approach to life, he now occupied the body of a red fox.
I looked down at myself. I had black feathers, and I spread my wings. I was large, bigger than a crow, and I noticed my face felt devoid of feathers. I snapped my wings back to my sides. I was a vulture! What a cruel twist of fate. How could I participate in the Harvest when I could not hunt, but merely tend to the scraps left behind? I was not the `` true carnivore'' the Deploracle said I would need to be to fulfill the Harvest- I was n't even a mammal, let alone a canid, feline, or bear.
Mercilles hoisted his enormous bulk, looked at me, and shook his head once. Sarangesset followed him out of the warehouse and I remained behind. Animal or human, I knew that look of ruthless apathy no matter the eyes it hid behind.
I heard squeaking. I had forgotten about the so-called heroes who tried so hard to stop us. I saw a small, fluffy, white mouse with glittering black eyes slide out of the blood-red cloak he always wore. I hopped over to Marcus, and he ran towards me, tiny teeth bared. As best as I could in my clumsy form, I bowed, spreading my wings open and dipping my bald head in a gesture of peace. The growling ceased. To kill the formerly towering'hero' when he was in such a physically weak form seemed unsporting.
I looked for Mira, and found her. She, too, was an avian, and my heart fluttered with hope. Marcus nudged her very gently, and she began to stir. She was brightly colored, befitting her. She was draped in a dress of gold and turquoise feathers. She had a large, curved beak, and an intelligent milky yellow iris.
She squawked a bit, and then said in a strange high-pitched voice hardly like her own.
`` Face it, Imolein, you were betrayed. You will be the Harvest, not the Reaper. You are just like us now.''
I let out a low, guttural hiss, the only sound my new body could make.
`` Imolein, look at yourself; you know it to be true,'' Mira said, shrugging her turquoise wings, revealing her golden undersides. `` Do n't mourn for what could have been, Imolein. Mourn for what could be if we can not overcome the Reapers. If you help us, you can stop the Harvest. WE can stop the Harvest. We can live.''
I hissed in protest, but then she turned her black-and-white striped face towards me, and said, `` I know you are not a destroyer, Imolein. You are a scientist at heart. Why study destruction when you could study this new act of creation?''
Marcus barked in what I assumed to be guarded suspicion.
I nodded my head, and began to draw in the sawdust, still soaked in blood from the Sacrifice. The drawing was clumsy, but Marcus understood immediately.
Mira looked at it for a second more, and said, `` We have to stop them. Marcus, herd everyone together on the ground. Imolein, search the skies, retrieve everyone. We may not be predators, but we will not be their prey.''
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[ WP ] You are at a funeral , however you seem to be the only one who can hear the scratching inside the coffin .
| `` Dearly beloved we are gathered together in the sight of God...'' the minister droned on as twelve-year-old Maura sat next to her mom. Aunt Patricia, her mom's sister, had been I'll for months until she dropped dead in her apartment a week ago.
Maura had been something of her Aunt's favorite, just days before Patricia's death she had spent the night. Which was why she was n't surprised at the strange scratching noise from inside the coffin.
As Uncle Hubert got up to sing, Maura nudged her Mom. `` Do you hear the scratches? `` her mom just gave her a be quiet look.
Maura could n't shake this weird sensation that something was wrong. As soon as they began to sing Amazing Grace, she slipped out of the pew and up the aisle.
She then slowly began to lift the lid to find a dead man who looked nothing like Aunt Patricia.
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[ WP ] Write a story that first appears to be taking place in the past , but is actually set in sometime the future .
| A strong, dry wind howled as the window shutter banged open, snapping Apu from sleep. The thin man nearly jumped up from his thin sleeping mat, moving with a tired efficiency to close the window against the desert gale. As he latched the shutter, he glanced up at the moon hanging in the scarcely clouded night sky.
β *Nearly morning, * β Apu thought as he gave the latch a testing jiggle, β *Would it even be worth trying to get back to sleep? * β
After some deliberation, listening to the wind assault his miserable mudbrick hut, Apu decided he would rather start the day having enjoyed a good read than wake up in a rush when the foreman began thumping on doors with his better-worker-baton. Apu rolled his mat, carefully setting it in the corner, and opened the small bin which he used to store the few belongings he β d managed to hold onto after so many troubled years. A sad smile that no one could see graced his chapped lips as he looked down on the effects: An oval of polished granite with a cats-eye of green quartz held in a leather throng, a small scroll which held his family β s tree, and the small leather-bound copy of the *Qasas Almuqaddasa*. He picked up the small book, which was narrow enough to fit in one of the pockets of the formal wear he β d used to wear before his businesses had failed, and gently closed the bin as he moved to sit beside the window.
By the light of the waning moon and waxing morning, Apu began to read the stories his father had said were sacred since the beginning of time. They told of the holy Gods which held sway among the stars, most powerfully in their homeland known as β Mecca. β Despite his troubles, and his seemingly endless suffering, Apu had always taken comfort in the Gods that had held sway with his people for time immemorial. His father had told him that the most powerful were Hubal, the moon God of divination, and his wife ManΔt, Goddess of fate. His father said that while Hubal had other wives, Al-lΔt and Al- β UzzΓ‘, his powers worked most regularly and terribly with those of ManΔt. The idols his family had owned, apparently with origins reaching so far back his father only said they β d been around for as long as their family had, had been sold long ago in misplaced hopes of keeping his head from going under with the businesses.
A tear stung Apu β s eye, which he willed without success to retreat into his body.
β Water is and has always been precious, β His father β s words echoed through his thoughts, β All our legends say it is so, and all we have ever known proves it to be true. Do not waste your water. Do not give water to the dead. β
Apu placed a gentle finger beneath the page β s corner and turned, savoring the whisper of the paper as it slithered to meet the next and revealed an image of ManΔt. Beautiful, indifferent ManΔt.
By the light of the moon, the sacred light of Hubal, Apu lightly traced the dark and morose image of the Goddess of Fate. Pale skinned, dark robbed, and deep blue eyes like the night sky without her husband β s light, ManΔt had always left Apu with an unerring sense of wonder. Hubal β s other wives were supposed to be more beautiful, being the Goddesses of Wise Love and Fertility, but he had never understood how so many could think it true.
He stared at ManΔt, his thoughts drifting between a hopeless desire for a life like he β d once lived and the child-like idea of a reality where he could simply touch the skin of the beautiful Goddess, until he heard the first roars of the foreman as he woke the other workers. With careful movements he returned the book to its place in his bin and went out to meet the day where he knew he β d toil in the hard, unwelcome irrigated fields which fed the city. Just like he had for so many years, Apu tore at the dirt with a tired grey shovel and tried to hide himself in his thoughts until he could rest in his miserable mud hut.
When that evening came and the foreman dismissed the workers to their quarters, Apu wasted no time before getting the book out once again. If only for a while before sleeping, he wanted to look at the beautiful ManΔt. He sat next to the same shuttered window, the fading light of the day casting between its planks, and stared at the Goddess which some had said greatly disfavored him.
As the moon rose and he felt the day β s work weighing on his body, he slid the bin out once more to return his book to its pitiful home. After carefully setting the bin in its corner and unrolling his mat, Apu moved back to the shuttered window. He jiggled the clasp once, as he knew he did not want to be awoken as the previous night, and a glint caught his eye as he turned to return to his sleeping mat. He turned back and squinted between the planks, noticing the glint was growing larger.
β *A new star? * β He thought excitedly of his book which held legends of heroes and creatures cast into the sky to be immortalized as stars.
Apu was shocked as he saw two grey shapes flying through the air, growing larger and larger faster than any bird he β d ever known. They quickly overtook his field of vision, despite his throwing open the shutter in hopes of seeing what they were as they passed. Then a sound unlike anything Apu had ever heard threw him to the floor in horror, like the things were tearing through the very essence of the sky with a loud boom and hateful roar that seemed to shake within him. As he trembled on the dusty floor of his miserable mud hut, a staccato of smaller but still terrifying thumps seemed to shake the ground beneath him. He could hear screams coming from the other huts, and shouts of confusion.
Then he heard a voice louder than all the others combined, louder even than the foreman bellowing over them as they toiled, and he was shocked to realize he understood the alien voice as it spoke his language; β Do not attempt to flee! Colonists of Alttawayu-Manaf! We are part of the Reclamation Task Force and you will not be harmed! Cooperate with our forces in rejoining your brothers and you will not be harmed! β
Apu rose to his knees, peering over the window β s edge for a moment and ducking back down in horror at the demons he saw. They looked like men, but with bulbous heads and angular limbs. They pointed things he β d never seen before in all directions, looking for his people. He heard shouts, then more in an unknown language, and then a horrible sound like logs popping in the fire but so much louder.
Then he heard people screaming as one, a woman yelled in anguish, β Abd Manaf! They β ve killed Abd Manaf! β
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[ WP ] He stood before a god and laughed .
| `` You thought that I designed this temple,'' he paused and waved his arm to emphasize the marble room they were standing in, `` for you?''
The god looked at him, from the god's pedestal in the room. The god spoke in a voice that was not male for female, angry or joyful, and not in words understood in the conventional sense. `` It would not fit me so well if it did n't.''
He laughed again, trying to resist spitting on the god. `` I will never build something for you. You have never been my god.''
The god froze in the throne, one of the few things to be colored in the temple. `` I am everyone's god.''
The architect looked at him. `` You are not my god.''
`` Then who is?''
`` The pursuit of something I was promised when I was younger - Death.'' The architect looked up, a wry smile coming over his cheeks. `` My mother told me you gave us life, but all I've wanted is Death.''
The god looked like he was about to give into a response, but he was too high, too mighty to do so. He was a god; perhaps even *the* god. He did not have to give in to whatever someone was saying, because, in a way, he controlled them. He told their prophets what to write; he told their priests what to say; he told their lands to give them crops; he told them to go to war; he told them everything they wanted to hear. But never what they did n't want to hear. This one, he decided, he could - and he would - make an exception.
`` You're a clichΓ©.''
`` You're a god. Are they not the same thing?''
That was when the architect was slapped across the cheek. It was firm and it was fast; the god did not appear to move, save for the fiercer angles of his face.
The god's words were quicker now; there were traces of emotions in it. `` I told you to built this temple.''
The architect laughed again. `` I told myself that I could die after I finished this... scar.''
`` I am the creator of life.''
The architect began to appear even more agitated. Running his hand through his dark hair, he shouted, `` I am the seeker of Death!''
The god looked up. `` If you admit that you built this temple for me, then I will kill you.''
It was a chance of hope, of happiness, of a lifetime of freed from gray. The architect smiled grimly. `` You would n't dare! What will the people say?''
The god stared straight at the architect, sending those milky eyes to intimidate them. `` They will call me just. They will understand.'' Or so he hoped.
`` Is your way of justice killing someone who allegedly built something for you?''
`` There is no other way of the gods.''
-- --
Edit: I'm being downvoted. Can someone please tell me why or how to improve?
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[ WP ] As the storm edged closer , I took a break and rested against a tree . The only thought in my head was `` Did I lose them ? ''
| I listened, as the rain started around me, soaking me. with the rain pounding in my ears for my brothers. I thought they had seen me, they were yelling my name. If they had caught me, I would have lost our hide and go seek game. I ca n't let that happen! Not until they yell olly olly oxen free! So I guess I should find a new hiding spot. Maybe up in this tree. I think that would be good! Yep!
So now I am up here. The lightning is kind of scaring me, but I know I should stay up here until the game is done. No way am I losing again!
I have been up here for a while. Maybe I should just go home, I'm soaked.
When I got home, my mom was on the phone crying and my brothers were all sitting around the fire. Jimmy looke at me and yelled my name. Mom dropped the phone and hugged me, telling me never to do that to her again. I did n't know what was going on, so I asked, `` does this mean I won hide and seek?'' And everyone laughed. They all thought I was lost apparently. I started coughing at that point, and my mom brought me some towels to dry off and got back on the phone. She was apparently talking to grandma about me being lost, and told her that I came home.
Anyways, that was the story about how I became hide and seek champion in my family!
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[ WP ] You have been challenged to a duel , however when you show up to the duel , you and your opponent had very different ideas of what the duel would be like ...
| A gust of wind blew across the abandoned streets of Saintsville, and I growled as sand whipped across my face. Pulling up my outlaw's scarf for better protection ( they were on sale for 49Β’ each at Grandma Beth's ), I scanned up and down the rows of old, creaking buildings lining the street, hoping to catch a sign of my would-be assaillant.
Twenty years, and not a single man ( or woman ) had been able to outdraw me. I am Jason - Jason the Quick, Jason the Ruthless, Jason the Wise, Jason of the Red Pistols. Too many names, because I never stayed in one place long enough to correct them. So folks took to calling me whatever they wanted, and I became many things.
There was one thing I never would be, though: I would never be a coward. So when an invitation to a duel arrived by carrier pidgeon, I did not back down. Odd enough that folks still delivered mails with birds nowadays, but even stranger still was the nature of the bird - I said pidgeon, but it was more like an owl. A very small one, but pretty sure it was an owl.
I burrowed my brows. It is sunset, and my challenger should have been here by now. Has he backed down from the challenge? Or did he set up some elaborate trap to ensnare me?
Whistling of wind behind me, followed by a loud pop. Too high to be street-level, too soft to be a gun. Nevertheless, I duck instinctively, keeping my head down as I whipped around, hands on my left pistol, ready to pop the sneaky bastard.
'Jason, I presume?'
I frowned. I heard my name alright, but I did n't see a soul in sight.
'Show yourself, coward!' I called out, eyes scanning across the rooftops to find my opponent.
'Hmm... you are not what I had expected.' The voice said, all silky and quiet-like, but deadly. Very deadly.
A puff of smoke on the roof of the tavern, and a blinding flash of light. I drew my pistol with my left hand, keeping it stable with my right, and fired from the hip, even as I closed my eyes against the ungodly brightness of whatever tricks he is using and rolled my way behind a nearby barrel.
A trail of black smoke suddenly streaked across the sky above me with unholy speed, and I leaped out from behind the barrels towards the entrance of a nearby building, underneath a set of balconies that would hopefully hold up against... whatever my opponent planned to use against me.
The trail of black smoke sailed through the sky with a loud, flapping sort of sound, and struck itself against the side of the neighbouring building like a beer bottle, shattering into a black cloud. In the blink of an eye, the cloud condensed into 6 dark tendrils, poised to strike. I fired three times, each bullet passing right through the eye of a tendril, but they seemed to be completely unbothered. I swirled around and threw myself into the old door, crashing through it and into the building, just as the first tendril whistled past the entrance, striking a hole in the ground where I had been but a moment ago.
'Hey! Are you alright?'
I looked up from the ground, and saw a child standing by an upturned table. He could not have been more than 14 or 15, dressed in strange, brightly coloured clothes, and a head of even stranger hair sticking out in every direction.
'I guess we are on the same side here. I do n't know who that guy is, but I am pretty sure the balance of the world depends on this duel somehow!' He said dramatically, as he reached into his jacket and whipped out... a playing card?
'Doom Serpent of the Sky, I summon you to do my biddings!' He yelled, raising the card into the air.
Now, I've seen many things over the years, but never something like this. The card began to glow in his hands like the sun, and I felt a rumble beneath my feet. Suddenly, a gigantic serpent broke from the ground, scales glistening green and black, and soared right through the roof of the building into the sky with a screech that must have been louder than a hundred locomotives.
I watched, momentarily frozen, as the enourmous creature circled a few times in the sky, and dived down towards some building across the street. Coming to my senses, I scrambled to my feet and rushed to the entrance, just in time to see a cloaked man firing several colourful streaks of light at the serpent. When those bounced off the monster's scales harmlessly, the man grabbed hold of the end of his cloak and turned into a cloud of black smoke, which parted into two trails as the serpent crashed through it and into the ground.
So that was the coward that had challenged me to a duel.
At this point, I was pretty sure that this was no longer an ordinary duel between sheriffs and outlaws. I grunted and drew my second pistol. I was n't sure exactly what kind of shenanigans I was dealing with, but one thing's for sure - I was n't going to let it get the best of me.
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[ WP ] The US has legalized assisted suicide , and a new crop of companies have sprung up to help people off themselves with `` minimum hassle and cleanup . ''
| Now folks, gather'round gather'round. Let me get a good gander at yous. Ah, anyone'round these here Bottom Springs feel a little sluggish? Do the days drag on? Do you find no matter what you do, life just lost that certain spice?
The people huddled around the man. His whiskers were thick, curling to the corners of his nostrils. A desert wind sweeps over the people. Tiny veins flow with blood around his collar. A bit chubby. His coat jacket spreads at his belly. The ground cracks with dryness. Another cloudless day.
Imma take a few minutes if I can to talk with you about a wonderful product, one of the best discoveries of this early century. I've created a number of medicinal oils, such as the wormwood curative, and the male reinvigorator, in fact I thinks I sold one bfore to that gentleman just yonder.
The mass chuckles, and the man swears he's never seen him before. For all the destitution, the feeling in town square is like an oasis. The man's charm was crisp. A buzzing sound with the drying crack of bone. A calf's skull parks his wagon wheel. Flies swarm the horizon like small sunspots.
Well listen here, I have a new tonic. Now, this is n't my ol' Wonder Elixir, no this sure aint gon bring yous newfound youth, but I do call it my Years-Be-Gone Youtheniser. Since the bomb, it does seem that some dryness has visited this place.
The crowd murmurs. We have n't had rain in the last year one says.
And it seems to have stripped you of your substantive ownership and satisfaction, has it not friends?
Most tracks in town led to and from a yard filled with crosses. Water could n't be wasted, spatters of blood shown prominently against the sunwashed wooden houses.
The mood drooped, as if the circle had fallen into a great pit. Well do n't blame yourselves, I just came from over yonder. He pointed past the mountains. Now cover the youngins ears please.
The children were just as bleached as the houses. They were dry and dirty, their eyes were barren. Now you go on, said a mother, and the kids acquiesced.
Ladies and gents, I say you have but a months worth of time left here. There's nowhere else to go. This here horse is the only other living thing you'll see. Our world is dyin. Whya think the suits back east legalized this stuff? I already see somuf ya already got ta killin. You could try to make it down thataway, to Redfox Gulch, but both yous and Is know the dangers out there. Radiation aint nothin to shrug about, yous and your children will bleed out through yer skin. And besides, there's nothing for you to find there but more of this most unfortunate dryness. This here is painless, he held the vial to the sun, and it shimmered. In fact, the death is downright enjoyable. Just apply vigorously to the skin, and you and your loved ones will slip off happily together before tomorrow.
The town bought a bottle a head. They gave all the coin they had, they knew they'd no longer have use for it. The confidence man tipped his hat, and headed off down the road. With the last of the sunlight, the people applied the oils. Darkness extended its arms across the mountains and over the town.
The sun scorched the earth the following day to sounds of sobbing. The confidence man arrived safely in Redfox Gulch. The town which flows with water.
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[ WP ] When you are born , instead of having a birthmark , you have a deathmark . These scars show the way that you will probably die . One day at a public high school , all of the student 's deathmarks turn to bullet wounds ...
| It had started out a pretty average day all things considered. I teach high school PE and that really doesnt change day to day. And really THAT day was n't really that odd in and of itself. I remember how all the guys came running out of the locker room in a panic. Yelling that their death marks had all changed to bullets. Naturally I thought it was a prank. Death Marks do n't change, everyone knows that. I checked my arm but no it was the same car that it had always been. I glanced at my TA and she shook her head, no change their either.
But then I really looked and damn but ya every last one of the guys had a bullet on his arm. I couldnt recall what they had been before but I was pretty sure they had n't been all the same. Now they were. My mind instantly went to the darkest place as I imagined a school shooting right there in my tiny gym. In a panic I called the principal and he locked down the school. Minutes dragged to hours as a SWAT team searched the school. As it became clear they were n't going to find anything my panic worsened. Oh but they did find something it wasnt just the guys in my class it was nearly ALL of the in the school. And a couple of the girls as well. The panic grew. What if the shooting was n't going to happen today? What if it was n't going to happen for a year or more? Would we have police standing by at all times? Should I get a gun?
Little by little the panic faded. It was no different I rationalized than knowing I was going to get hit by a car. I still drove to work each day. The change was really more shocking than anything and the kids would get over it in a week or two. I was uneasy the rest of the day but eventually I went home and collapsed in front of the TV the past stress was really wearing me out. I flipped on the TV and was confused why was the President on ESPN? Then I hear what he was saying and my blood went cold all over again....
`` My fellow Citizens as of 10:28 today we are in a state of war. The draft begins tomorrow.''
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[ WP ] A well known fact has changed overnight , and you 're the only one who remembers it being anything different than it is now .
| At first I didn β t notice it. I mean, why would I?
I simply got up and went about my morning routine same as always. Shit, shower, shave. Eat a bowl of nutritious and delicious oatmeal ( I like mine with berries and pecans ) and then feed the cat.
It wasn β t until I was in my car on the freeway that I had my first hint something was amiss. I was flicking back and forth across my pre-programmed rock stations when I heard it. It was catchy and I recognized the voice immediately. *Hot* *damn* I thought, they did find a gem in his unreleased material. I never would have thought it. All the songs released since his death had been pure crap. Stuff that never should have seen the light of day. An insult to the dead and a symbol of all that was wrong with the music industry.
The more I listened the more I was caught up in the song. It was as good as anything he had ever done. Better even. I felt tears in my eyes as I barreled down the freeway, fingers tapping the steering wheel to the best Michael Jackson song I had ever heard. After the final notes faded into the background the DJ came on and told us we had just listened to the number one song in the nation. Then he said something strange. He said, β The King of Pop is back and better than ever folks. We β ll be right back after these messages. β It struck me as weird. His using the present tense to refer to the dead.
As soon as I got to my computer I searched for any information I could about the song. I wanted to know its back story and I definitely wanted to buy it. That was when things got really really weird.
The news articles about the new album also trumpeted the King of Pop β s upcoming world tour, his first in almost 20 years. They talked about his long stay in rehab the year before. His recovery and subsequent musical rebirth. I stared at my computer screen checking website after website. I poked my head up and looked around the office. Surely, someone must be fucking with me. I must be on camera. This was all an elaborate prank. Well, two can play at that I thought.
I got up and walked to my boss β s office. He was sitting behind his bigger than it needs to be desk, sipping on a cup of coffee. I leaned against the door trying to be casual.
β How β s it going Frank?
The boss looked up, a twinge of annoyance on his brow. β Good. What can I do for you? β
β Have you heard that new Michael Jackson album? β
This question seemed to smooth some of the annoyance out of his forehead. β β¦yeah, I just finished downloading it. Amazing stuffβ¦. I didn β t know you were a fan. β He smiled at me in a way he never had before.
β Oh yeah. Big time. Are you kidding. I wore out my cassette tape of Bad. β
β Nice. I am so freaking happy he got his shit together. For a while I thought he was going to kill himself. β
β Yeah. Except he did. β
β What was that? β
β Up, look at the time. Got to get work. See ya! β I said as I got out of there. *What* *the* *fuck* *was* *going* *on? * I was genuinely scared now. There was no way Frank could pull off a straight man routine like that. I made a bee line for my cubicle and spent the rest of the morning searching every corner of the web I could for Michael Jackson information. The final straw was his interview on The Tonight Show. There he was, in the flesh and looking healthier then he had in a long time. He joked with Jimmy Fallon and then performed the song I had heard on the radio.
I left work without telling anyone and drove myself to the hospital. I refused to tell the doctors what was wrong. In the end they gave in and checked me out. I was in perfect health. *But* *what* *if* *I* *was* *losing* *my* *mind? * *I* *must* *be. * I had perfect memories of the death of Michael Jackson. I was a massive fan and had genuinely mourned.
What do you do when one small fact about your world changes over night? Well, you have a choice. You can either let it drive you crazy or you can buy tickets to Michael Jackson β s upcoming world tour.
Mine are front row center.
edit: small stuff
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