prompt
stringlengths 5
331
| story
stringlengths 404
40.3k
|
|---|---|
[ WP ] Technology has advanced to the point no one alive has seen or even heard of a naked flame ; one day a fire starts .
| Nobody knew how it started, a rat chewing some cables maybe, or a desk jockey overloading his computer. The fire took place in Megacity N4, starting in district D, it quickly spread from office block to office block, devastating the financial district.
It were as if Judgement Day had come, people were fleeing the city, hiding out in the Enclaves for days, nobody wanted to be in the city.
We had n't required a fire department for over three hundred years, nobody had even seen a fire in that long. But within a week the whole of the N4 downtown area was just a smoldering mess and the residential areas were starting to catch too.
We turned to the history books, old videos and safety manuals. We learned the fire's weaknesses; water, sand, Co2, sometimes more fire helped. It was a hard fight, but eventually we stood triumphant over the fire after 46 days of destruction.
It's going to be a long journey to rebuild, most of the city has been destroyed, including the construction and infrastructure sectors. But in the ashes of the metallic metropolis we saw something else we had n't seen in centuries. For the first time in living memory trees sprouted from the ashes of Megacity N4.
-- -- -- -- -- -
[ Click here ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/Wrobbing/ ) to see all of my short stories written for /r/writingprompts, and more!
|
[ WP ] You meet the grim reaper at a crossroads . You are fearful as he approaches , but notice he seems just as fearful of you .
| My eyes jump from snowbank to snowbank, one featureless as the next. The road I walk upon is a dark grey slush, the result of many cars and snow plows making their way through the void. Yet I had not seen a car in miles. I shiver. But not from the cold.
The compelling. It had awakened me. This ominous feeling that I had to be at a certain place at a certain time. It controlled me. It made me get dressed. It made me open the door. It had even made me ignore my wife, who I usually kiss goodbye.
The road seemed endless, but I felt no reason to stop. Even if I had tried, I was sure I would resume walking in moments. The wind had picked up, and snow was starting to fall. My boots crunched through the snow with a rhythm, and I soon zoned out.
* * *
The Subaru roared around a turn, the wheels kicking up ice. The driver was a scared man, a man running for his life. Events, beyond his control, had been sent into motion. He could feel the ominous presence behind him, almost as if it were sitting in his back seat. He looked into his rearview mirror, but saw only the road. But he knew it was there. That HE was there.
* * *
*Crunch crunch crunch*
I watched my feet as I walked. My left boot lace was undone. I shambled on, the wind taking an encore to my seeming will to pass through undeterred. Then, a change. I was here. I blinked twice, and let out a breath. A yellow light flashed on my boots. I knew that when I looked up, everything would change. My life, my family, my work. My future.
For some reason, I was not tempted to look up. This was my first exercise of free will all morning, and I savored it. Could I turn and just walk away? Leave this incident behind me? Tell my wife that I was just feeling a bit under the weather?
No.
I looked up.
I was standing at one end of an intersection. A Subaru was on its top, the hazards flashing, one wheel creaking around slowly. A man sat on the bottom, now the top of the car. He was in an expensive suit, hair a bit astray. He was slumped forward, his hands in front of him like wanted to catch a ball. But this was not the main course.
The presence that hovered in the wintery sky filled me with horror. A cloak rippled around the form, yet the hood never got caught in the wind. Four skeletal wings protruded from his back, but they did not move. In one bony hand He held his scythe, in the other a small shining presence. A soul. He slowly raised the hand with the scythe, and pulled back his hood. A skull looked back at me, the sockets filled with blue fire.
`` You're here?'' His voice whipped around me like wind. He descended to the ground and stood, a creature many feet taller than me. I was in utter terror. But I was not compelled to run.
Then, the scariest thing yet.
He fell to his bony knees, and groveled. The soul sputtered in the snow, and his scythe lay abandoned.
`` I did as you asked, I did as you asked!'' He repeated, crawling towards me. I did not move. The presence before me had gone from powerful to a whimpering dog.
When He was before me, he went quiet. His fiery eyes met mine.
`` Have I failed you, Death?'' He asked.
`` No, Reaper. You disappointed me.''
I placed a finger on his skull, and He was dust.
|
[ IP ] The Hunting Party
| She leads us. She knows the way. She is hunting for something. There is a fire in her eyes. There is something past the horizon. Always past the horizon. She has purpose. It is enough. We follow her. She never asked, but I follow.
It walks with us. It is not flesh. It fights for her. It is brawn where she is precision. I have seen it fight. Bullets hit it and it lives. Bolts, it lives. Rockets, it lives. Blades and claws and impacts and it lives. It does not speak. She speaks to it. She seems to expect an answer. One never comes. But it fights for her. It is enough. It walked with her before she found me. Likely it will walk with her after I am gone.
She does not speak to me often. She does not expect an answer. But she tires. She is half flesh. When she tires, I let her ride on my carapace. It is enough. She leads us. She knows the way. She is beautiful. It is enough. I will protect her.
-031
|
[ WP ] You 're given an opportunity to go back in time for five seconds to yell , `` Duck ! `` , ten feet away from someone of your choosing . You return to the present and are soon terrified by the outcome .
| David looked up to me over the rim of his thick horn rimmed glasses, sweat and dirt covering his rugged and bearded face.
`` It's ready Paulie-Boy'' He pronounced in a thick Scottish accent, `` what time ya going back too?''
I was n't sure, over the last decade I had contemplated this very question. 10 years of testing, failure and 18 hour days have led to this moment. A marriage, my children's first birthdays, essentially their entire childhood had been sacrificed for this moment. I stood, suspended in an unbearable silence at the machine.
`` The only time that matters.'' I croaked. I stood there longer, in an abandoned wear house in the middle of nowhere.
David tapped away on the keyboard for a time, until eventually a blue aura grew around the machine. `` What date then ya wee bastard?'' Complained David.
`` November 22nd 1963 please'' I struggled. David prodded the numbers into the keyboard, turned and nodded.
`` In ya get, do n't be shy'' He quipped. I found my legs carrying me into the centre of the machine. `` This may hurt a fuck-tonne.'' Said David has he gave me a mock salute. The blinding flash of light that followed was n't he worse thing, it was by far the feeling of drowning.
I looked around and realised I was alone. I reached the window and saw lines of people crowding the street, a motorcade passed the street in front of me. The presidents motorcade. I screamed `` DUCK!'' As the first shot rang out. I saw nothing, the blinding white light consumed me and transported me back to Dave, mouth open and cigarette hanging from it.
`` Did it work?'' I asked.
`` Let's go find out.'' He replied. The two of us pushed the wear house door open to a city that would have been Dallas once. Nothing. Rubble and sand was only to be seen.
`` What the fuck happened'ere?'' Mumbled Dave. I found a poster on the side of the wearhouse. `` Nuclear war imminent'' spoke the headline, with a picture of President John F Kennedy underneath. I collapsed but David remained standing.
`` The assassination of Jaquie Kennedy sent shock waves through the world'' Dave read, `` but none quite like the nuclear weapon dropped on Moscow in the days following he assassination.'' I was sick.
`` So in saving one man saw the destruction of humanity?'' I whimpered.
`` Fuck.'' Is the only word Dave managed.
|
[ WP ] Scientists invented a pill that enables dogs to fully speak and understand English . It lasts for ten minutes , and will only work one time . You give a pill to your 12 year-old Border Collie , whom you 've had since they were a pup . Your dog immediately says `` Alright , listen very carefully ... ''
| `` Alright, listen very carefully.'' The pills had taken effect almost immediately. I was in shock, and let out a, `` Wow.''
`` No. No. No time for'wow'. Snap the fuck out of it. I know what bullshit you just fed me; Toby told us about them the other week. I know they only last for a while, so there's something very important I need to convey to you.'' I nodded silently, assuming she was talking about the next door neighbor's dog, Toby.
`` My fur,'' she continued, `` do you know why it's so long?'' I did n't even have time to formulate an answer before she spoke again. `` It's so that if some big fucking animal, like a wolf, grabs onto me, they have a harder time doing any damage. It's essentially a natural suit of goddamned armor. What would you do if a wolf attacked you? Oh yeah, you'd fucking **die**!''
Confused at both the information and my dog's tone, I asked, `` Why are you telling me this...?''
`` Shut the **fuck** up, Tom! Tom... Humans have such weird names. Do you know that the name my mother gave me would roughly translate to,'undefeated guard' in your language, in this disgusting speech I have to use to convey ideas to your pea brain? That's a great name, my name. Tom is... a name. It does n't mean anything, but that's how human names are. They're just... names. But, it's not offensive. It's not degrading.'' Suddenly, I realized where this was going.
`` But a fucking terrible, shitty, embarrassing, goddamned unacceptable name,'' She raised her voice with every word. My dog was yelling at me, in English. `` **is Fluffy**!'' she screamed. `` I swear to fucking God, Tom, if I hear you, or **anyone** call me that undignified name **ever** again, I will piss on **everything** you own! I will hide my shits where you sleep! I will chew your shoes, ruin your furniture, knock dishes off of your countertops! That is not my name, and it never will be again! I do n't deserve such a *Arf! Arf! Arf! Arf! *''
I breathed a sigh of relief as the pill wore off. She ran in circles, now just barking at me. Would petting her calm her down? I did n't dare try it. I did n't really know what to do, other than come up with a new name for Fl -- for my dog.
I sighed and sat on the couch. At least that horrible experiment was over. Lesson learned: Life is much better when your pets ca n't bitch at you.
Soon after, when I heard a loud, `` My name is not Mister Mittens!'' from the bedroom, I realized my girlfriend was about to learn the same lesson from her cat.
|
[ WP ] You 're the Interim CEO of a major internet company . Every decision you make seems to just go completely wrong .
| `` They appointed me CEO?! Me?!'' I chuckled to myself. I have one agenda on my mind. Sue every. Living. Breathing, organism on the planet until I'm number one. `` Hey Victoria, you're fired''. I said. `` Wait... Why?'' Victoria said. `` You are the only one in my way.'' I said. `` Fuck you Ellen. I'm going to sleep with your husband like other reddit employees did.'' Ha I chuckled, `` Victoria I have a husband as a cover, I only want to sleep with you, that's why you're the only one standing in my way of my own sexual desires to sleep with you'' I said. `` Oh Ellen take me now'' Victoria said so excitedly! they had awesome hot lesbian sex and lived happily every after.
|
[ CW ] Invent and use a word or phrase , but do n't tell me what it means , so your story might have multiple meanings
| What's a few minutes more? The doctor said he'd be right back with the test results. Of course, that was an hour ago, but Yamin was used to waiting. His wife had tested his patience so thin over the years -- bless her soul -- that when their son was born no amount of screaming, fussing, or bodily fluids could even raise his heart rate. Practically nothing could phase him, even waiting a few more minutes in the off-white examination room. Plus, Yamin had shown up early to his 1:00 appointment only to wait three hours in the sweltering, garish waiting room that time seemed to forget. So Yamin sat cool, calm, and collected -- or at least calm and cool as the clinic's AC troubles did not seem limited to the lounge.
& nbsp;
Yamin resigned to pass the time as he always does by reliving his fondest memories. The birth of his children. His eldest's first steps and his youngest's first words: Da-da ( though he told his wife he had said Ma-ma -- it meant more to her than it did to him ). Jasmine, his beloved, the yin to his yang. What Yamin had in droves, his patience and an thoroughly undisturbed demeanor, his wife held the opposite: passion and emotion, to say politely. He remembered how happy she was when he first professed his love to her, how she leapt with joy and shrieked for the world to hear. He reminisced about how angry she got last month when the pickup cut them off on the highway ( and how glad he was they had just dropped the kids off at day care, otherwise they would have heard some new choice words ). And he recalled the look of concern in her teary eyes last week upon learning that the needle some junkie had left in the playground that their daughter was playing with might have had more than traces of heroin in it. Yamin was just glad he had caught their little girl in time before anything bad could happen. At least, anything bad could happen to her: the needle had broken his skin when he went to grab it from her tiny hands. He did n't feel any worse for the wear, but maybe that was by his own choice. After all, he could n't get sick: how could he afford to? Who would help take care of the kids? Who would console his beloved Jasmine? Who would --
& nbsp;
The quick rap on the door followed by the handle turning broke Yamin's train of thought before it went any further. The Doctor had the lab results in his hand. For the first time in a while Yamin grew nervous, yearning to know the contents of the manila folder. Yet his impatience proved to be short lived: the emotion on the doctor's face, plain as day, told Yamin all he needed to know about the test results. Still, the doctor spoke:
& nbsp;
`` You are HIV Aladeen.''
|
[ WP ] many young adults claim to have seen a tv show called `` teletubbies '' as kids , but there is no record of such a show existing .
| CARMEL: The symbol on Tinky Winky's head is a symbol of gay pride to
promote homosexuality.
ME: Where did you hear that? For something to promote'homosexuality'
you actually have to mention homosexuality, which the show does n't do.
CARMEL: They said so.
ME: Who said so?
CARMEL: The shows creators on a talk show.
( A bit of muddling where he kept repeating'they said so'. )
ME: Did you see this talk show yourself?
CARMEL: No, but Jerry Falwell did and talked about it his show.
ME: Did he tell you what talk show it was on? Did he see it himself?
CARMEL: I do n't know, but Jerry Falwell would n't lie. It's his Christian
duty to tell us about these things when he finds out about them.
( I could n't get any more specific info out of Carmel - not the name of
the supposed talk show, where Falwell got his info [ the supposed talk
show or somewhere else ], etc. I did try to point out that Jerry Falwell
might not deliberately lie but might be mislead by incorrect
information, to no avail. Carmel seemed insistent that'Falwell said it,
ergo it is true'. )
|
[ WP ] January 2nd , 2013 - The Day Your Resolution Fails
| 24 hours in and the internal battle has begun, the sweating, the chills, the heat, the cramps, the pain.... 80 % relapse rate the counselor told me. Yesterday was n't this bad, I thought I had it licked. I've been a closet oxy addict for the better part of 3 years now.
The worst part is that no one knew, no one ever knows, 3 new years resolutions come and gone... but this one was different, you were gon na make it... you just had to... for her.
So here I am breakfast with the family pretending to have the flu, pushing the pounding recurring thought of... you are the 80 %, you are the 80 %... why suffer? Why drag this out? Who does it hurt anyway? Its my life I can do what I..... My phone vibrates in my pocket..and I know exactly who it is, I know where he is, I know what he has, and how it would instantly make me feel. I do n't call that prick for 36 hours and he checks. My body gives me a small dose of endorphins, just enough to get me excited, fuck now I need an excuse... ca n't just leave... ca n't just get up and go....damn this fucking breakfast.
Ma do you have any cream?'' my wife shouted from the kitchen. I could tell by my mothers face that she did n't, before anyone could think I jumped `` I GOT IT''..nearly knocking my father over as I scrambled to my feet. `` I need to get some nasal spray for this cold anyways''
They bought it, they always do. 20 minutes later and I'm in the bathroom at my parents house..2 neat blue lines chalked out in front of me, the dollar enters my nose, I inhale....as the stinging starts there was a moment of guilt, a glimpse of failure and disappointment.
By the time the second line was finished, I could n't remember what I was so upset about in the first place.
|
[ WP ] You live in a Dystopian world where eye color determines your social class . 20 years later a baby is born with red eyes .
| I stared down at the baby I had given birth to. I had never seen such eyes. I rocked him softly to stifle his cries. My own tears fell now. They would take him from me. Eyes like his were told to be of the devil, but as those rubies stare at me I could feel only joy. Not evil. However, my own gold eyes clashed with his. Gold meant purity and was seen fit for rulers and higher nobles. My husband would be furious. My son would be banished, or worse killed. What could I do? I could hear someone approaching now. Quickly gathering a coat and shoes I ran and opened the window and climbed down. I quietly moved to the stables gently rocking my son to keep him sleeping. In the distance a siren went off. They knew I was gone. I must be going mad, what am I thinking? Giving up everything. My brown eyed father would be saddened. He worked hard to arrange this marriage. But, this was my son. I shook my head and saddled my horse as well as I could with one hand and swung myself up. Holding the small child close I took the reigns and my horse galloped away. Goodbye my king. Goodbye my kingdom.
|
[ WP ] A member of your family has been kidnapped , and you 've received a phone call by the kidnapper , demanding money or else . Unfortunately for kidnapper , you actually do n't care about that particular family member .
| `` Mr Grell, you if wish to see your father, you will transfer the money to this account.....''
Grell sat in the dark study, his face illimated by the pale light of the monitor as he Russian spat out a series of numbers which he ignored.
`` Surely you can afford the ransom... your father is a famous explorer after all... you wont miss a few million..''
The camera view captured an industrial room lit by a flood light, in the center of which sat a barber chair occupied by a thin figure.
The man shackled to the chair was skeletal, his blue eyes vacant and starring off into oblivion.
`` The longer you make us wait....the worse it will be for him....let me show you how serious we are..''
At this point another masked figure approached the seated man and ground out a cigarette on the man's forehead.''
Grell turned from the computer and starred out the windows overlooking the city lights.
`` There will be no ransom. Dead men do n't need money''.
`` You dare to threaten us?? Yuri, please show Mr Grell what will happen to his father if he does n't pay us!''
The second masked man picked up a claw hammer and began flailing on the legs of the hostage.
`` You do n't have my father. You have the shell that he left long, long ago. Good bye''.
Gregor screamed profanities into the dead cell phone for a full minute. The brothers had kidnapped dozens of people on four continents, and nobody had ever hung up.
`` Yuri, do n't kill him yet, let me call that asshole back! First we get the money, then you can kill him....''
Gregor turned to see his brother laying on the floor, wimpering and holding his hands in front of his mask. A halo of blood spread across the filthy concrete.
In a stupor, Gregor drew his glock and turned towards the barber chair. The old man stood up like a marionette hoisted aloft by strings. His head tilted slightly, his neck bones cracking. The old man's eye sockets were empty black caverns.
The old man's jaw dropped into a yawn, and a mass of oily black tentacles erupted. The flood lights sparked and blew out sending the room into darkness. Gregor felt something invade his mouth, ears, eys and stomach with a colding burning pain.
30 miles away in his mansion, Simon Grell stood in his study and watched the lights go out in the warehouse district before quickly spreading across the city. The thing that wore his father like a suit, the foul black thing that had wiped out the Mayans, the Toltecs and the Anazasi was loosed upon the world.
And there was no way to stop it.
( Sorry... first time entry... having trouble with the editing process... forgive the font changes )
|
[ WP ] The superhero arrives to stop the villains next master plan , only to find him slumped unconscious with an empty bottle of whiskey and tubs of emptied pills .
| The Adjudicator listened to the consistent beeping of Dr Dusk's heartrate monitor. Outside was at least a dozen police officers order to pounce at the slightest hint of trouble. They should be arresting him right now the Adjudicator thought, but they know what's good for them. They'll give him this. He's saved too many to be not be respected, but killed too many to not be feared. Dr. Dusk begins to stir from his sleep, tosing and turning, coughing as his eyelids flutter.
He looks up from his bed, surprised but relieved to see The Adjudicator. `` You saved me, you!? Of all people!?'' He bursts out in laughter, but begins to cough, his body too weak.
`` Do n't do this. Not now.'' The well-armed vigilante growls.
`` Why should I? How do you know this is n't a trick?''
`` I've already checked out your hideout. I saw the experiments, the tests, you finally found a cure for, well, you'' He hesitantly murmurs, the reality of the situation rapidly becoming more and more evident
`` Did n't mean to. I was trying to create a psychopath virus, and I guess genomes got mixed up, cells poorly arranged and here I am'' The smile fades from his face and you see his eyes well `` I've hurt so many people. I've hurt so many, tortured more and the people I killed- Oh God - Adjudigirl. I'm so sorry, I'M SO SORR-'' The Dr. began to thrash, pulling at his hair and clawing at his skin
The Adjudicator shot up and restrained him with his powerful limbs. `` Relax. It will all be over soon''
`` No... I did n't think you'd let me off that easy. Just, I-I do n't want it to hurt. I want it to be quick'' The Doctor's eyes were red and swollen. He tried to slam his eyelids on the great flowing of tears, but it was like duct tape on a cracking dam.
`` Of course'' Adjudicator drew his pistol and leveled it between the Doctor's eyes. The vigilante's mask covered his eyes, but the Doctor could tell they were erratic and unsteady. `` I wanted to do this for so long. Life has a funny way of working itself out''
The Doctor let out a final laugh `` Of all the times for the first joke you tell... I'm sorr-''
-- -
The Sergeant waved in the forensics and took out a cigarette, lighting it despite the protestations of his partner. `` We are n't finding anything. He did n't leave anything before, he wo n't leave anything now.'' He says, looking over the strangest murder scene he had ever seen. The obvious escape route through a nearby window. A shell from a bullet that would like all the others prove untraceable. The victim, a villain who's fearsome finally visage relaxed with the release of a life of evil, bearing the most genuine smile he'd ever seen on another human being in his entire life.
|
[ WP ] A fantasy version of mechs . But there 's not magical cannons strapped to its arms , instead crotchety old mages .
| `` I say,'' the Left Arm sputtered, `` can you not swing your arms so much?''
`` I concur!'' Came an agreeing yell from the Right Arm.
`` Shut up you two,'' the Mech-driver warned them. `` I'm getting sick of your voices.''
`` Oy,'' the Left Arm complained. `` I should never have dropped out of law school. My mother was right.''
`` How can I even hear you two idiots?'' The driver muttered. `` You're separated from me by 40 feet of steel.''
`` Magic.'' the Right Arm provided. `` We can all hear each other.''
`` So,'' the driver spoke through clenched teeth, `` a few hours ago, when I asked you to finish off that other Mech and you said'Oh no, I do n't have enough power,' you could have not said that and instead *finished it off* with that power?''
The Right Arm was quiet for a moment.
`` I suppose so.'' It finally said. `` I guess that's why you're in the driver's seat, aye?''
`` Indeed,'' The Left Arm agreed.
The Mech-driver ground his teeth together.
`` So, where are we headed this fine evening?'' The Left Arm broke the silence.
`` It's morning.'' The driver replied slowly, almost against his will.
`` Hard to tell with all the steel between us and the world,'' the Right Arm stated.
`` Agreed,'' came the Left Arm. `` Wise words.''
The Mech-driver was n't foaming at the mouth, but only barely. The man had gotten the Wizard-Loaded arm attachments only two days ago, but he could barely take another second.
`` I'm hungry.'' The Left Arm said.
`` I agree,'' came the Right Arm.
`` You have food being pumped into your bodies.'' The driver spoke with more than a hint of anger.
`` I do n't like it.'' Came the Right Arm.
`` Tastes horrible.'' The Left Arm added.
The Mech-driver closed his eyes for a moment. *It goes straight into their stomachs. How do they even taste it? *
*Oh, it's the principle of the thing. * The Right Arm's voice came from in his head.
*Exactly. *
The Mech-driver held back his tears of rage.
*ARE YOU IDIOTS IN MY HEAD? * He thought as loud as he could.
*Oy, we are. Nice place in here. *
*Lots of empty room*, came the other Arm.
|
[ WP ] He thought he was invincible . Invulnerable . Untouchable . But it turns out that even the Narrator can fall .
| It was a perilous trip. The four of them had finally gotten back home. Three years, two wild goose chases, five planets saved, but they finally got it. Their ship lands at long last onto familiar ground. Bastion is the first to leap out of the ship onto the earth's surface.
`` We are home! Oh my god, I never thought we would make it back here!''
Quincy followed behind `` Oh quit being so dramatic.'' She paused and looked around `` Although I will admit it is nice to see familiar grounds again.''
Ray added `` Yeah, and with a breathable atmosphere to, that is better than what we usually get.''
Mark gave a cry from inside the ship `` Hey can I get muscles back in the ship to help me move this thing!''
Bastion, face still kissing the dirt shouted `` Give me like 5 minutes''
`` Do I need to remind you of the importance of-''
`` Alright I am moving.''
The object in question was none other than the rare piece of gufonioum. After hauling it back into the lab, Mark set to work immediately on his latest invention. The rest of the gang was going to get their well deserved rest. They would need it for Mark's plan.
The next day, Mark has gathered the gang together to unveil his invention. Everyone but Bastion has remembered what they were after the whole time, so it can at least be a surprise to him.
After clearing his throat, Mark addresses the group and says `` Ladies and gentleman, I give to you'' Pause and cloth removal for dramatic effect `` The dimensional battering ram 4.0''
`` It looks like a medieval battering ram with a blue thingy at the front.'' Bastion says
`` Thank you for giving us a riveting verbal description for those of use who are blind.'' Ray replies.
With vigor and excitement, Mark explains `` With this we will be able to alter the universe in a way no man ever has before! With this device, we can break the fourth wall!''
Confused, Bastion states `` I can break any wall normally, we did n't need to do all this for breaking stuff?''
`` Just trust us on this one big guy. Tell us what to do Mark!'' Quincy says.
`` It is simple. Bastion, I just want you to swing the battering ram as hard as you can, Quincy I want you to power up Bastion. he needs to hit the wall as hard as he possibly can.''
`` Just like back in the Hamtaran sector, remember that Bastion?''
`` Heh, yeah. That was fun.''
`` Good! Ray, I want you to keep your gun at the ready. Once that wall breaks you shoot to kill. We can not let it get away.''
`` Shoot to kill is my specialty!'' Ray says with confidence.
The team sets up, Quincy begins preemptively psychically charging Bastion. He pulls back on the ram. Ray stands next to them, gun at the hip, poised to draw and fire at a moments notice. Sweat is rolling down Mark's face, he is nervous. All this will be for not if his device does n't work. All those years of work for nothing.
With the strength of a million bison Bastion slams the ram into thin air before him.
*THUMP*
With a slam it stops mid air. The team is confounded at it's success.
`` Keep going! Again!'' Mark commands. Mark is ecstatic, but this feeling will fade. Bastion Heaves and slams the device into the phantom wall
*THUMP*
Ray's trigger finger is getting itchy, all six bullets loaded. She would never get the chance to fire one.
*THUMP*
Quincy was pouring all her power into Bastion, the poor girl is nearly fainting. She is going to pass out before this is over.
*THUMP*
Bastion is getting mad. Three of his mightiest attempts and nothing. This one was with all his strength. Bastion does not understand how the machine works, but he knows when he is n't doing his job well enough, and he always does it better. Unfortunately for poor Bastion even the strongest heave he can muster is no match f-
*Bang*
**POW**
|
[ WP ] Create a character who is a paragon of virtue , kind and good and all round awesome . Make me hate this character .
| Rachel tried her best to hide the fact she ’ d been silently sobbing for the duration of her drive. She dabbed at her eyes and cheeks with a tissue, staring at her face in the rear view mirror. Her eyes remained bloodshot and her face was puffy. That would have to do, she was already running late. She walked briskly to the office from the car park, straightening her skirt down as she went and quickly smoothing over her long, brown hair.
‘ Good morning! ’ beamed Ellen, the receptionist.
Ellen ’ s over-the-top cheeriness was even more obnoxious today, given Rachel ’ s circumstances. She almost felt like saying what she always thought walking past the desk, ‘ Ellen everyone ’ s seen the Prozac in your drawer, maybe close it once a while, and stop pretending to be happy and be miserable like the rest of us ’ But she didn ’ t, of course. She weakly smiled back as she always did and continued onto her floor, the third.
She went over to her desk, passing her colleagues, some greeting her with hellos and good mornings, cursing the open plan structure of work that forced this interaction even more today. She finally collapsed into her chair and turned on the computer. She took off her jacket and hung it on the back of her chair whilst she waited for it to boot up and looked at herself again in a small pocket mirror; her previous upset was barely noticeable in her face anymore. If only it was that easy for how she felt internally. As she loaded her e-mails she felt reassured that work would distract her. Oh, fucking brilliant, she thought. An e-mail from Sam. She opened it.
‘ Rach, I ’ m sorry, I wish we could just talk without arguing. Let ’ s try that tonight.
Sam x ’
She sighed, exasperated with him. The topic of argument was always the same, and was the reason she had been so upset this morning. Sam had been fired from work over a month ago but was refusing to seriously look for new employment as Rachel could, barely, support them on her wage alone. He also was considering going back into education which would be more of a financial burden. She felt her jaw clench just thinking of it and her eyes began to sting with tears again. She unclenched her fists and took a deep breath in, let ’ s focus on something else, she thought. There was a tap on her shoulder.
‘ My names Gabriel ’ said a soothing, deep voice.
Rachel quickly closed Sam ’ s email and spun around. A tall blonde-haired man stood behind her with a comforting smile on his face.
'Um… ’ she began.
‘ Sorry, you ’ re Rachel right? I ’ ve started here today and Peter said that you ’ d train me for the next few days. is that OK? ’ he looked intently into her eyes as he said this, they were a very deep sapphire blue.
‘ Oh..yeah…of course ’ Rachel stuttered looking to Gabriel and then back to the computer.
‘ Of course only if it ’ s OK, I don ’ t want to cause you any trouble ’ he said sympathetically.
‘ No....….no trouble I mean ’ Rachel stated.
There was an awkward silence, Rachel was facing Gabriel but trying to avoid eye contact. Gabriel was shuffling on the spot.
“ Oh yes, grab a chair then ’ Rachel exclaimed.
The day went surprisingly quickly, thankfully. Training Gabriel was a real pleasure and he was so polite and even bought Rachel lunch at the local restaurant. By the end of the day she actually felt relaxed and content for the first time in months, things between her and Sam had been rocky even before he ’ d lost his job so she was thankful to finally enjoy herself a little.
'Thanks so much for your help today ’ smiled Gabriel.
Rachel couldn ’ t help but blush and smile herself ‘ Of course, you ’ ve been great…at your training I mean ’
Gabriel grinned ‘ Fancy a drink? ’
Rachel automatically responded ‘ Yes ’.
By 6pm her phone had vibrated quite a few times, that she ’ d noticed. She had said yes despite her knowledge that Sam wanted to talk tonight. But right now she was enjoying herself and she deserved it after the arguments she had endured over the last month. She sipped on the third cocktail that Gabriel had brought her as he was talking about his various charity work.
‘ It was so rewarding working in the hospice, heartbreaking but so rewarding ’ he said softly, taking a gulp of beer.
Rachel felt a little tipsy.
‘ So, why were you upset this morning? ’ he asked suddenly.
Rachel was taken aback by this question, but only slightly owing to her quite inebriated state. Prepared to reply that she ’ d rather keep it private instead she was surprised to hear herself say
‘ Me and my boyfriend are having problems ’ she spluttered.
Gabriel listened to Rachel for a good half an hour, in which she felt her phone vibrate a lot more. It was about 8 ’ o clock before she had a chance to check the clock. She felt only a tiny bit guilty. Gabriel was very empathetic towards her and eased her worries that she was the one being unreasonable. When he kissed her she felt herself melt into him and before she knew it she was laying next to him, in his dimly lit apartment, completely naked in his bed.
**********************************************************************************************
Rachel, answer your fucking phone. This is really immature. Where is she? You're worried that she's been in an accident and she will not respond to any calls or texts but her phone is ON.
Someone from the office gets back to you.They saw her leave with a blonde-haired guy. It's nearly midnight. Your stomach sinks.
|
[ WP ] Every mammal is sentient , talks and has to work for a living . You 're a detective from New York City PD and got transferred to a small town . Your new partner is a cat named Mittens .
| She gave him the once over. Green. He'd better learn fast. `` So you're my new driver. Name?''
He bristled. `` Jake. And I'm not your driver, I'm your new partner. I've heard your type was overly defensive..''
Involuntarily, Detective Mittens ears twitched. `` What the fuck does that mean, *our type*? Are you one of those human supremacists? Fucking great, I got a Nazi driver.''
`` Wh-What?'' Jake was on the back foot. `` No, I mean'your type' as in you small town cops. You ca n't shut up about how tough everything is, and how great you all are. And again, I'm not your driver. I worked the mean streets of New York for long enough to be treated with some respect.''
`` Whatever'', Mittens said dismissively. `` Mean streets, huh? A beat cop, dealing with petty crimes, committed almost exclusively by human perps with no fangs or claws. All of this helpfully located on a numbered grid, monitored by technology designed to catch criminals, and patrolled by thousands of other officers. Yes, it sounds like a tough job. Do n't embarrass yourself any further and open the door. I'm not jumping in the window like some street moggy.''
Jake opened the front passenger door, and waited for Mittens. He had pushed for this assignment as soon as he made the decision to move away from the big city. He knew that things were a little more chaotic and dangerous out here where the wild things were. He was also well aware that Detective Mittens' local reputation was impressive - her demeanour was less so.
She took her sweet time hopping in, and an increasingly frustrated Jake slammed the door, almost catching her tail. That brought a vehement hiss from the seasoned detective. `` Watch it, Jack. You do n't want to get bounced down to traffic on your first day, do you?''
`` It's Jake. Now where?''
She put her claws away. `` Good, you're learning. Until you can boast of a clearance rate like mine, you're my fuckin' driver. Where else would we be going? Head over to the scene. Jesus.''
Jake put on the light and sound show, and drove quickly across town, seething all the way. She was right though. He was second fiddle to a pussy, and he knew it.
`` Pull up here, Jack.'' `` Jake.'' `` Whatever...'' He let that one slide.
As Jake watched, incredulous, Mittens leapt out of the passenger side window, and sniffed the air. `` DB is a male, around 17. He either fell out- or was thrown out of a window. Probably been cold about 72 hours, give or take.''
`` How did you -?''
Mittens stretched. `` I have certain... advantages over you humans. One of which is a nose that can smell what's wrong before you get your gloves on. Now, pick me up. I ca n't be walking trace evidence all over the scene.''
Jake knew his place as a new face in Homicide, he picked up Detective Mittens and gingerly stepped over to the other side of the car, where the body of a tabby still lay.
Detective Bruno was here, casually licking his scrotum. He stopped as the pair came over. `` Looks like this one did n't land on his feet, eh, Mitzi?'' Corny as ever. `` So who's the new driver?''
This old mutt was harmless, but he had a knack for rubbing Mittens the wrong way. `` He's not a driver, he's my new partner. Lay off him, you ugly hound. And stop trampling the scene. How long have you been doing this?''
`` Fuck off Mitzi, it's a fuckin' hairball. You know it, I know it. Stop busting my balls.''
`` Okay, if you stop licking them.''
Jake hastily read the report: `` An officer interviewed the employer of the decesased. Tiger did n't come in for work yesterday, and he is never late according to the boss.''
`` What was the deceased's occupation?'' Mittens sniffed at the corpse.
`` He was a health screener at the local free clinic. He could sniff out a tumour with the best of them, apparently''.
Detective Mittens walked back over to his partner. `` Take me up to the apartment. Bruno, carry on your important work.''
`` You jealous, Mitzi? You can have a taste if you like!''
Detective Mittens shivered with disgust in Jake's arms as they headed for the elevator.
Up on the 6th floor, the apartment looked like a bit of a mess.
Jake offered his opinion: `` Signs of a struggle, Mitzi.'' He knew he crossed a line almost immedately.
`` It's Detective Mittens to you, son. You bald apes have n't earned back enough respect from any Animal-American to start using our pet names.''
Mittens leapt to the ground. The forensic team were obviously through, and were packing away. Their leader approached Mittens. `` There's no murder here, Detective, not in my opinion. We found feline saliva and traces of vomit near the window ledge, which indicates that a stuck furball is the cause of death. An autopsy on the deceased will confirm that hypothesis later today. Okay guys, we're out.''
The forensic team scampered away with their bags in their mouths.
`` So shall we head back to the Station, Detective Mittens?'' asked Jake.
`` Not yet. Like you said, signs of a struggle. And where's Tiger's human?'' Jake beamed. `` Something's not quite right here, Jack, and I intend to get to the bottom of it.''
`` It's Jake, Sir.'' `` Whatever.'' He let that one go too. Mittens leapt into his arms unexpectedly.
`` Drive me to the clinic. I've a gut feeling that the job will turn out to be the key to this case. And my gut is almost never wrong. Let's go.''
( To be continued.... )
|
[ WP ] Legends tell of the mighty alchomancer , a magic user who becomes more powerful the more intoxicated they are . They are currently blackout drunk .
| `` Twin Bolt,'' Declared the alchomancer.
`` Wait... what?''
`` Annihilating fire!'' he added with a grin.
`` But.... It's turn two! I ca n't lose like this!'' his opponent wailed.
`` You just did!'' he taunted with breath so alcoholic it caused his opponent to cough. `` Hey Judge! I won in two!'' he announced with a wave of his large hand, clouting the player beside him upside the face.
`` Shit man, we're not even five minutes into the round,'' the shopkeeper declared in awe.
The next four games went a lot like the first, some opponents lucky enough to get a few counter-strikes in, despite his deadly red/blue burn deck. Most days when they drafted, he started out sober, and he created terrible mishmashes of barely-functional decks, but tonight was downright devastating.
When pairings were announced, everyone would sigh as they were paired with someone else, but when he got his pairing, his opponent would groan, knowing the computer had generated his fate, and not his carefully prepared drafted deck.
He awoke in the morning, still somewhat drunk, and sticky, and.... why were there cards everywhere? Oh! He... He was under the table at the Local Games store..... Wait, were n't they supposed to close up after drafts were done for the night? Drafts... Was n't he supposed to participate last night?
He brought a hand to his face; there was a card stuck to it. Chandra? What poor sap had lost such a gorgeous card?
He looked around as much as he could bear. There were empty bottles and cans distributed among the hoards of booster pack wrappings.
`` I see we're awake, boss.''
`` Boss?''
`` I still do n't know how the hell you opened a Black Lotus while we were drafting Return to Ravnica.''
|
[ WP ] Everyone ages until they 're 18 , then they stop growing old until they find their soulmate . You 've have n't aged a day in 160 years until one day ...
| It's not that I had n't tried to find my soul mate. I think everyone tries at first. I went out. I dated. I found no one. I then tired experimenting with the other gender. That did n't work. I am a completely straight male. No use looking for my soul mate among my own gender. After a while I gave up hope. There are some that do. I joined a support group and watched the people in it slowly leave and be replaced as they found their soul mates. My friends and family are long since dead. Any new friends I make eventually die.
It was fun at first to study. I got to become an expert in my field and dazzle everyone with my amazing intellect. But after a while people began to see my intellect for what it was. Failure. A failure to find my soul mate.
I tried finding my soul mate among some of the newer generation but that just never works out. After a while it became depressing hearing people say the same things I had heard for 100 years.
I never expected to find a soul mate. Then about two years ago a friend of mine invited me to go bowling with a few of his friends. He was almost 80 and still 18 and he knew a few other people in the same predicament. I've known Henry for years. I do n't think he'll leave me any time soon. So I went bowling. It was a stupid event to convince ourselves that we would ever find the one meant for us. As if any of us would find our soul mate while bowling. And the most amazing thing happened.
I found my soul mate.
|
[ WP ] You survive an encounter with a 'Skin-walker , ' tell us about it .
| `` Derby, c'mon! I do n't want to be outside all day.''
The four month old German Shepherd looked up at his master for just a moment before sniffing the ground again. Kyle moaned and tightened his grip on the leash, zipping up his sweater.
Days were getting shorter and cold nights would make their way into town as summer transitioned to fall. The night air was crisp and light compared to the humidity of last month. Some people had celebrated the cold, Kyle dreaded it. He did n't dislike the cold, but Derby still needed an hour to find a place to shit properly every night. If that did n't change soon, Kyle would be spending a lot of time in the cold.
Kyle rummaged through his pockets to find his phone. He turned it on, checked the time, and placed the phone back in his pocket. 10:08.
Right on time, a car turned onto the street Kyle and Derby were on. Kyle recognized the blue lights of the car as his neighbor's. Dr. Paulson had just gotten off his ER shift at the hospital. Kyle suspected he had a McDonald's burger and lit cigarette with him.
The halogen lights danced in the woods near Kyle. Most of the neighbors were spread out and even though Dr. Paulson and Kyle were the closest to one another, it would still take a five minute walk to go door-to-door. Kyle had lived in the same house his entire life and was n't afraid of the dark trees anymore than the average person. They were creepy at night, but that's why you did n't go out there at night. Common sense.
The car slowed down as it approached Kyle. `` Evening, Kyle!'' Dr. Paulson greeted. Kyle was correct before. He could see the faint red glow of a cigarette in Dr. Paulson's other hand. Kyle wondered if he was right about the McDonald's too.
`` Hey, Dr. Paulson,'' Kyle responded. Derby tried jumping on the car at the sound of a new voice while Kyle struggled to hold him back.
`` Ah!'' Dr. Paulson laughed. `` You got stuck with dog duties tonight? Why do n't you make Megan do it? She *is* the youngest. There's privileges that come from being the bigger sibling.''
Kyle humored Dr. Paulson with a chuckle. `` Yeah, I know. But Meg and Steve-''
Derby barked loudly once, twice, three times. Kyle thought he heard the small snap of a tree branch breaking, but Dr. Paulson's idling engine made it difficult to tell.
`` Stupid dog. Shut it,'' Kyle ordered. Derby's eyes were transfixed on the woods. They were very dark in contrast with the bright lights of the car.
`` Probably just some deer,'' Dr. Paulson explained. `` I swear I've been having ten scamper through my yard every day.''
`` Yeah, probably,'' Kyle answered while eyeing the trees.
Dr. Paulson put the car in gear, but held onto the break. `` Well I got ta get going, Kyle. The Cards game is still going on against the Dodgers. Tied game and everything.'' Dr. Paulson started to pull forward. `` I'll be seeing you around. Tell your dad I say hello!''
The car traveled down the street until it reached a bend and turned out of sight, leaving Kyle and Derby alone. Derby barked again a single time and growled. He bared his teeth and lowered himself to the ground.
`` Derby! What is wrong with you! Come on!'' Kyle ordered, pulling on the leash until Derby followed. They were going home, the dark was starting to give Kyle the creeps.
Even though he stayed quiet, Derby did n't pull his eyes away from the trees as they walked. Kyle picked up the walking pace and looked down at Derby. The shepherd's ears were perked up and his eyes unblinking. Kyle even noticed that Derby was shaking and that his tail was between his legs.
`` Shhh, Derby,'' Kyle said in a soothing tone. Kyle placed a hand on Derby and scratched his head. Derby was definitely shaking. `` Let's get home.''
Kyle heard the dull smack of something hitting a tree come from the woods. Kyle stopped walking for just a moment, listening for another sound. He heard it. The second sound was something of a cry, almost the in between of a growl and a wounded noise of a hurt animal. Kyle did not stay to hear for a third sound.
`` Derby, let's go!'' Kyle ordered and began to jog.
Derby followed without question, but never removed his eyes from the woods and the source of the sound. The leash jangled as they picked up pace and Derby would gently run into Kyle's leg to reassure him that his master was still there. The two reached the bend in the road and followed the curve. Another half mile and both would be safe within their home.
With safety so close, Kyle picked up the speed to a run. But there was a hissing from the woods. Whatever the thing was that made the noise was following them and it sounded like it was close to the treeline.
Derby barked as they ran and was answered by a strange deep sounding hiss Kyle had never heard before. There was another smack from the woods as if the thing had run into a tree again, but then Kyle heard the deep hiss once more and sprinted.
Kyle could hear the thing following them now. Its footsteps were an irregular rhythm and Kyle heard it smack into more trees as it followed, hissing every collision. On the last collision, Derby tried to sprint into the woods with a growl, but Kyle's tight grip on the leash prevented him from going.
Suddenly, a dark shape jumped an impossible distance from the woods and landed on the pavement twenty feet in front of Kyle and Derby. The dark made it difficult to see but Kyle could barely make out the form of a deer standing in front of him, but by all accounts the deer should have been dead.
The thing stood on three legs and looked to be shaking slightly. The fourth leg was only a stump under the deer's knee. The creature stumbled a little as it stood there and there was the sharp sound of something hard hitting the pavement. Kyle realized with horror that bone was sticking out of the stump. Its ears were missing and half its face looked like it had been attacked viciously. Large claw marks were down its back and hindquarters and a solid piece of muscle hung from its neck.
Derby barked once at the creature, but it stood still. Derby barked again.
Immediately the deer lunged for Kyle, somehow ignoring its stump. Derby jumped after the creature and met it in the air, taking it down easily. But then the deer opened its mouth and Kyle heard the most horrible scream penetrate his ears, an impossible sound for a deer to make.
`` *NEED IT! MIIINE! *'' A black mist shot from the deer's mouth, aiming for Kyle.
Not knowing what else to do, Kyle reached his right arm back and swung a solid punch at the black mist. The punch would have connected horribly, but the instant his hand met the mist, Kyle's head seemed to be attacked by a thousand ice picks.
Kyle screamed and clutched his hand. It felt like millions of ants were crawling over his hand while it was simultaneously lit on fire. Voices began to enter his head in a chorus. `` *MINE! MINE! NEED IT NEED IT! CA N'T DIE! MINE! MINEMINEMINEMINE! *'' The pain was unreal and Kyle cried out in agony and horror.
Derby let go of the now-dead deer and turned to his master. The black of the mist had touched only part of Kyles pinky and ring finger but was spreading up towards the wrist. The dog barked again as it lunged for Kyle's right hand. The dog's jaws found the hand and buried deep. Derby cried out himself for an instant and ripped his head to the side, taking flesh and Kyle's ring finger with it.
The pain in Kyle's head subsided slightly as he lost his finger. The voices in his head were no longer as loud. Derby went for the hand again.
Before the dog could attack again, the black mist let out a deep hissing sound and the voices in Kyle's head ceased completely. He collapsed to the pavement, breathing heavily. There was a quick sting in Kyle's hand and the ants and the fire disappeared. Kyle tried to pick up his head to see his hand but could n't find the strength. There was another sting and, out of the corner of his eye, Kyle saw a black object fly away from his side.
Derby whined by Kyle's side and licked his face gently. Just like that, the ordeal was over.
Kyle fell unconscious on the road. His right hand, gone.
|
[ WP ] `` It was you ? ''
| `` How could you?'' I hissed.
Brady did n't bother defending himself. He just shrugged and continued leading the way through the tunnels. `` Say what you want. Your opinion does n't matter to me anymore.''
`` It did a few days ago.''
He chuckled. `` That's because I had to keep the disguise up. Ca n't be a faithful sidekick if you do n't listen to the hero.''
Anger bubbled low in my gut, and I wanted to kick him in the shins. As much as I wanted to deny it, somewhere deep inside me, he was still my friend, even if he had betrayed me. I still cared for him.
We came upon a hole in the tunnels, cut into the side, looking out onto a large cavern-like room resembling a hangar. There were no drop-ships, but there were soldiers milling around with rifles in their hands. They were waiting for something.
Brady put a finger to his lips and motioned me forward.
`` See those two guys with the snipers?'' He asked.
I looked around, even in the walls, but there were no snipers. `` No...''
`` Exactly. They're well-hidden. Stay low, and follow me.''
`` Just like old times.'' I grumbled, and he shot me a venomous glare. He hopped down into the tunnel first, glanced around, and then looked back up to me. He held his arms out.
Sighing, I dropped down into his arms, stumbling slightly. My head hit his chest, and instinctively, I reached out to grab his shoulder for support. His arms were strong and firm, stable under my weight, and for a second, I was back at the base, sitting with him under the oak tree and just watching the clouds roll by. Everything had been so much simpler then.
I pulled away from him, not before catching his amused look. It only made me want to kick him more. Shouts snapped our attention to the control room, where several soldiers were gathering. They kept motioning towards the doors. Brady seemed to be following every word, though I could n't hear a thing.
`` Look, Marin,'' he started, not meeting my eyes, `` I know you're angry and all, and you wan na shoot me in the back, but right now, you got ta pretend that we're friends. I really need you to cooperate.''
`` That's an understatement.'' I said. He winced slightly, but I still found a reason to sigh. It was only him and me, and those men up there had guns, grenades, and years of military experience. `` Fine. Tell me what I need to do.''
He actually smiled, for the first time in days. `` Good. Now here's the plan.''
It was just like old times.
|
[ WP ] You wake up in hospital after a bad accident to find that parts of your body have been replaced with cybernetic replacements . Your SO is about to walk into the room .
| [ Note: I kind of got carried away. It's about 2:30am now and I think I need to go and take care of the wife now. Let me know if you have problems or want more? ]
-- -
Hideto
--
`` Case number 336-2962, heading: cybernetics, patient: Bekhterev J.N., age: 32 years, time and date of operation: start at 0357 hours, February 22nd, 2074 --'' Hideto looked to the clock on the wall, rubbed his eyes in disbelief, then took a deep breath before continuing. `` -- until 0945 hours, February 25th, 2074. Pause dictation.''
Hideto stood from his chair, met with great protest from his legs, back, and head, and walked over to a small alcove on the wall. There was a glossy black slate mounted on the wall which came to life just as he saw his blood-shot eyes in the reflection.
`` Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, eh?'' he whispered to the slate that now listed several unreadable recomendations. A flashing GOOD MORNING seemed to be the only joyous bit of movement in his office. He scrolled through this list until he saw COFFEE, HOT flash up on screen. Forcing his right hand up to the screen with the left, he tapped the coffee icon. Slowly, a cup had emerged from inside the slate as he instinvtively reached through to pull it out. Taking a sip as he sat back down at his desk, he saw the monitor displaying what the computer had dictated so far. Hideto wished that he could just close his eyes for a minute, but he knew the computer would buzz him awake until this log was finished. Priority One waits for no one.
`` Resume dictation. Patient was brought in by MEDIVAC-2, attending Combat-Medic ID number: 227-212-9948-1, rank: 2nd Lieutennant, name: Jasons C.H., his report is filed under COM-MED-ECHO-SEPTEMBER-331... God damn I hate this shi --'' Hideto lost concentration for only a second and his whole desk vibrated as the screen flashed `` INVALID RESPONSE!''
`` -- 331-2. Wounds were a severe perforation of femoral artery, compound fracture of left femur, compound fracture of left tibia, severed right foot from anterior talofibular ligament down, punctured left lung, right lung was also punctured, liver was shot completely through by shrapnel, heart had been stopped for approximately twenty-five minutes. Combat Medic Jasons had injected emergency nano-bot supplement ALPHA-3 in order to continue brain function until patient arrival here at Gale Crater. Patient Bekhterev was immediately brought through triage and assigned to me for immidiate cybernetic organ transplantation.''
Hideto had gone spoken out the entire surgical report down to the smallest details, as he always had. Some said that he was too thorough, almost robotic, he hated that. But at the same time, he was glad that though they were nigh-able to automate every damn job and field on worlds everywhere, they could n't take Cybernetics, he'd be damned if the machines could take any part of his job away. The irony was never lost on Hideto, even down to his automated nurses, he would remark at one point how silly this all was.
-- -
Claire
-
Claire had n't slept at all, she got the call at around 0400 with the news about Nicolai. Her eyes had now swollen to the point where even a seasoned heavyweight boxer would wince, she had a terrible headache and nausea from the six-hour train ride from Eberswalde to Gale General Hospital. She did n't know what to expect other than to meet Father Rublev outside of the hospital, just more reassurance that Nicolai had finally caught up to Death in those Fields.
To her relief, Father Rublev was smiling as she stepped off of the train. He grabbed her by the hand and, with an excruciatingly slow pace, brought her to Post-Op.
`` There are some things that we must tell you first.'' said Dr. Masaki, who delivered his list of side-affects, physical training routines, and medicinal requirements with a callous monotone voice. The longer he went on, the more blurred her vision got as the tears began to fall from her soft, tired, blue and red eyes. She did n't even notice that the Father's hand was practically white as a ghost from her ever tightening grip. She looked to him as he gave her wipes for her face and made sure she understood what the Doc had been saying.
`` Do you understand everything that I have told you so far Mrs. Bekhterev? Mrs. Bekhterev?'' the doctor repeated twice with an increasingly impatient expression.
`` Yes. You've replaced more than half of him with Cybernetics. Including his stomach, I guess he wo n't have to bear with my attempts at Russian cooking.'' *why did I say that? * she thought as she laughed and sobbed simultaneously.
The doctor attempted a smile, he looked so exhausted that she thought he'd be the next one in the emergency room. He pointed her to Nicolai's room, said goodbye, and headed back through some admistitrative doorway. She never saw him again.
-- -
Andrei
-
Being the Orthodox clergyman for Gale General was a relatively cushy job. You did n't have to be out in the Fields if there were ever an accident or if a lander had a botched entry. You just waited in the denominationally ambiguous chapel while most of the visitors there were only there to curse at stained glass for a lost one. At first he would comfort them but as time went on he learned to tell which ones needed to vent and which ones wanted God.
When he was told that Nicolai Bekhterev had a wife who was also an Adherent to the Church he quickly brought up her contact information on his terminal without really bothering to check the time.
She had a still, high in pitch -- but not gratingly so, voice that calmly asked for clearance to take the Eberswalde-Gale Express first thing, which he had promptly authorized at his own expense.
Andrei was instantly in love with her as she thanked him for his help and terminated the transmission.
He had also arranged for her to stay in a private room attached to her husband's recovery ward, also at his expense. Still unsure whether he did this out of some priestly compassion, or if he was just so in love with her voice that he could n't do anything less than the best, or if he had just been so excited to have a genuine Orthodox member be near. After all, it had been almost ten years since he last had a spontaneous encounter with a genuine Believer. Either way, he was going to do everything that he could to make both of them comfortable. Even though his powers were limited in helping Nicolai himself.
It was already past the morning services when Andrei was told Nicolai had survived through surgery and that Claire was due to arrive just after mid-day. He donned his garb and rushed out to the Platforms just as her train was arriving.
He had an image from the Department of Manpower which was used for her work ID copied onto his memory, even though he would n't need the computer to store her tired, but beautiful face for facial recognition. She was the only woman to alight from the train, her face was much more weathered than the image had shown.
Her skin was burned by the harsh sun from being in the less sheltered regions, her wrinkles around her eyes and mouth were deep and her hands were rough, dirty, and deceptively strong. In spite of all of this, she was still beautiful.
Her expression was calm, seemingly void of any sadness or anger. Only after Andrei had told her of Nicolai's surviving the surgery did she show any hint of sorrow.
`` Is he in pain?'' she asked with a strained, shallow hold on to her composure.
`` Yes. Very much so. But he will live.'' *what else can I say? I ca n't lie to the girl. *
`` Will you take me to him?''
`` Of course.'' *how can I prepare her for what she will see? *
The entire time Dr. Masaki was explaining the severity of the injuries, Andrei stared at the door to Nicolai's room. He did not much care for Cybernetics, especially in the case where it would extend someone's life as it has for Nicolai. In spite of all of this, he may get to live another hundred years before the Cybernetics begin to break down.
But that was n't the worst part of it all. Nicolai's face had over ninety percent of the skin be replaced with PolyMesh. While it may look natural, feel natural, and smell natural, it did not simulate sweat, if you got a cut it would simply stitch itself back together. No matter how benefitial it was, there was something uncanny about it all. He had opted not to tell Claire in hopes that she would n't notice. Perhaps when she sees that some of his previous scars are missing, she will find out herself.
`` Father Rublev, will you come in with me? I- `` she cleared her throat, `` I think he will want some prayer. He adores our Lord, you see.''
Andrei, for the first time since getting to Gale, had his reservations about following his calling. He did n't want to watch the horror that would surely come over Claire's face. But he could n't refuse and tell her that he would wait outside.
*How I long to be back in Moldova*
--
|
[ WP ] You accidentally walk into an alternate universe where you have previously died . You walk into someone you 've never met and they seem ecstatic to see you .
| ''Shit man, it's been too long''
David greeted me like a long time friend despite the fact that we only took one class together years ago. I guess I should be thankful I can have one normal conversation in my own hometown. I see that my bus is here and say my goodbyes.
''When you come back, we should really do something.''
''It'll be a while before I come back, but let'see what happens.''
''I saw your friend Julia the other day. Do you know if she's single, I've always wanted to ask her out.''
I really hate doing this to David but if he's going to run in into somebody who knows I'm''dead'' so might aswell get it over with.
''Yeah, she is but she's a complicated girl. Do n't get your hopes up.''
''And I'm a simple guy. Opposites attract you know? Well, nice to see ya man. Enjoy your trip.''
''Thanks and David keep an open mind about life.''
That's the best I can do as poor Dvaid will probably be ridiculed and doubt his own sanity in the coming months. Oh well, off to a fresh start.
|
[ WP ] It 's the year 2040 and 3 androids are running for US President . Each of their personalities and knowledge base come from the entire content of one of these websites programmed in their AI : Candidate 1 ( C1 ) - reddit , C2 - facebook , and C3 - wikipedia . Describe/narrate their presidential debate .
|
NEWS REPORT ON THE PRESIDENTIAL DEBATE
( Sorry if I get anything wrong, as I'm not American and do n't know how the president thing works. )
'Hi, I am your favorite News Reporter, Mode 6, and I have an update on the last three candidates that are running for president. Here are their reasons that you should choose them.'
C1 ( Reddit ) says, `` Everyone will have the right to post whatever they want, whenever they want.''
C2 ( Facebook ) says, `` No one will be ridiculed for their embarrassing photoshops or pictures. Think for a better Wall!''
C3 ( Wikipedia ) says, `` Look, hey, I know that I am waaay cleverer that all of you, but you can still vote for me! Unlimited knowledge all around! No more failing exams!'' *In a quiet voice* `` Basically, no more homework.''
C2 turned to C3 and started to shout, saying, `` You ca n't do that! Do you see how many stupid people are on facebook? We need homework!'' After a while the crowd started to agree, but C1 did n't like that, so he screeched, `` No one is stupid! We all have the right to post - I mean say - whatever we want!'' The crowd went wild, chanting the different names, but C3 was by far, the loudest.
`` QUIET!'' A voice boomed, and everyone stopped arguing and turned to look at C1. `` Thank you!'' He said, exasperated, if robots could feel that. `` I should be the winner because you can look at cute puppy pictures ALL day, everyday. You can also write stories, and be COOL and SMART!''
There was a moment of dead silence, then the crowd started to chart, `` C1! C1! C1!''
When the votes rolled around a week later, needless to say, Reddit won. He stepped up to the President's podium and announced, `` Sorry, the Servers are down, you will have to speak to REAL people, okay?'' Apparently, no, this was NOT okay. C1 was assassinated one hour later, at the hands of a fellow Redditor, saying, `` How could you do this! How...''
'Thank you for watching, I will be here all week!'
EDIT: I just figured out how to do italics. The imagine 8 is the asterix, okay? 8Hello8 or *Hello*
EDIT 2: Me again, I made it longer, I hope you like it.''
|
[ WP ] A man actually catches something with his dream catcher and sees his worst nightmares take physical form
| It was the sound of the metal crinkling together that woke me. There's only one thing in the world that makes a sound like that. Un-silenced dog tags. They feel wet in my hands as I shakily lift them from the woven bands of leather. The beads are cold against my skin. Rough with sand I turn them over in my hands, feeling the pitting and scarring in them.
I know what you are. You are the breaking of the promise I made that first night of basic, when I told myself that I would never let this happen to my brother. You are the weakness that followed me into the forest and would not allow me to put a bullet through my best friend's leg. You are the chance that comes to all of us.
I run my fingers over the lump of shrapnel buried through my brother's religion and I let them slide to the floor. My phone is ringing.
|
[ WP ] Write something honest and raw , something you 've been too embarrassed or scared to say , and do n't mask or filter it in any way . Vent .
| I once worked for a company where I had to take care of autistic children. My first few days on the job one of the kids head butted one of the other staffs. The child then decides to go into the bathroom where I as a male staff was n't allowed to follow an being that all the other staff was n't around the only one I could have called was the same girl who got head butted. As the two of them where in the bathroom I heard loud smack sounds. I frequently asked if everything was okay but the staff kept saying everything was fine. Upon their return I noticed the childs face was red an swollen. I immediately asked what happened an the staff told me the child slapped herself. Two days went by an the child kept having behaviour problems in school an back at the house so I knew something was up. The child was deaf an mute. She knew very little sign language an did n't quite know how to express herself fully. Now me trying to be the good guy, I went an told my supervisor. Immediately the staff was relieved of work and an investigation started. Eventually she lost her job. Now what happened to me....all the other staff looked at me as a snitch an no one talked to me anymore. As if I did something wrong. If I could have gone back in time I would have cursed them all out an quit. I am not one to take food out of someone elses mouth but if you're abusing children. No regrets. I just hope she learned from the experience an never do something like that ever again. Til this day it never sits right with me the kind of stuff that those children have to go through. If people do n't enjoy doing that kind of job then they really should n't be in that field.
|
[ IP ] Goddess of Death
| She smiled at me from across the room. Her smile was inviting, but showed a shade of evil. I liked bad girls, they were sexy. I walked up to her, as she kept drawing me closer and closer. I almost felt magnetized to her. I reached her, and asked with a sly smile, `` What kind of seductress goes to a bar like this?''
`` *giggling* Oh stop it, I'm not that pretty.'' She responded while blushing.
`` Come on, you ca n't possibly look at yourself in the mirror and say I'm not pretty.'' I retorted while leaning on the bar table.
`` Well, I did lie a bit. I'm just a little shy.'' She said while taking a sip of her drink.
`` I can take you back to my apartment and reveal some `` inner'' secrets.'' I said.
`` Well, then, let's see if that is the case.'' She said with a smile.
`` Let's go then baby.'' I said while walking out of the bar.
She followed me closely on the ride home. I was n't actually drunk, which was nice. We got to my house and went into the bedroom. I'm not sure what happened because I passed out. It was strange, I felt it all but I do n't remember the visual stuff. All I remember was her beautiful body and the wink she gave me before we started.
I woke up the next morning in a pure white room on a pure white bed. I turned and the girl was gone, in fact my whole room was gone. I sat up, not really understanding the gravity of the situation. I walked up toward a door I found and opened it. Emerging out was heavenly. It was a pure white hallway and my previously dead brother passed by me. All he said was `` A shame you showed up.'' I went back into the room I emerged out of. I closed my eyes and I was in my room again. It was night time and I saw me drinking. I would n't stop, it was surreal and crazy. I was downing the alcohol like an athlete drinking water after a workout. It kept going down and down and down. Until I passed out. I looked on as my body was unconscious and not moving. Then suddenly three paramedics rushed in. They got me onto a stretcher and I was teleported to a hospital. I closed my eyes, but it would n't go away. A doctor walked in to the room.
`` He's been pronounced dead, ma'am. I'm sorry.'' He said sternly.
I noticed my mom in the corner, bless her soul. Her three favorite boys in the world dead due to alcohol problems. She said, `` Oh, I-I...''
`` Ma'am, I'm sorry. Please, let's leave the room.'' The doctor said while grabbing my mother's hand.
As she walked out I was teleported back to my room. The girl sat on my bed.
`` Hey! What the hell happened?'' I asked angrily.
`` Death, that's what I am. The final symbol of many men's deaths. I did n't kill you, no one did. You did, with your incessant drinking. I'm sorry, but this is how life goes. Lucky for you, this is really your only sin, so you get to gain entrance into heaven.'' She said while putting a coat on.
`` Hm. So wait what are you going to do now? Can we go out or something?'' I asked with a smile on my face.
`` Sorry kid, but I do this a million times a week. And you're at best a 6.'' She said while walking out.
|
[ WP ] Dungeons across the world are labeled from 1-100 and have biannual checks by the Monster Association to make sure they stay that way . Reports from adventurers about unfair play have made it to the president of the company , and he sends the dungeon inspector , you , to investigate .
| I was on duty this afternoon to do a inspection on the `` Leather Room'' or dungeon 69.
Im only feet away from the dungeon complex and I just get an odor, a smell of dominance already beginning to hit me. I was in shocked in confusion, How could the people of L.A. deal with this and act like it does not exist? So I took my question to a bystander. He happens to be very muscular and oh so tall. He was a giant towering over me. What was strange about him was that leather spiked collar around his neck. He was sweating profusely I noted as well.
So I approached him and asked `` Hi, do you smell anything strange?''
`` Oh before you answer that sir what is your name'' I pull out my badge to show him im FBI. He answers `` My name is VAAAANNNN'' that name struck me. It sounded so familiar for some reason. `` That smell?, what smell?'' he looks at me like im crazy `` Oh you mean the.... That smell, yes'' I ask `` Do you know what it is?''
He starts to look very nervous `` Yes, I dont know it exactly-ly-ly, I do know where it is coming from'' I ask him `` Reallly? where is it coming from?'' He points at this normal house next to the dungeon complex which surpises me. I go investigate.
10 minutes later I came knocking on the door to hear grunting and screaming. The more I listened I heard very abnormal sounds, slapping, spanking, and wiping.
I really wanted to quit being a detective at that point but I had to continue. Van opens the door for me actually. When I walk in the smell was worse.
Van goes into this locker room to take off his collar I watch through a small crack in a bathroom. I still dont know where the dungeon is but It has to be this place. a man walks in and says this to van `` Hey leather man, the leather club is 2 doors down'' Van is enraged and screams `` FUCKKK YOUU'' a couple seconds later they both begin to wrestle while im taking photos. This might be the place. What really caught me is how van screams `` IM THE DUNGEON MASTER''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
If this gets more attention ill finish the rest later, thanks for reading!
|
[ WP ] `` The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve ... '' ( Matt 20:28 ) You 're up against Jesus in a dance-off
| `` Shit, what did we do last night?'' I said to my friend Matt, whom had also chosen the floor of the kitchen as an acceptable place to sleep last night.
`` You want a beer?'' Matt exclaimed, answering my question with another question. It was a sufficint enough answer, considering the intense hangover I was suffering. We decided to have breakfast with our beers to help our bodies heal. Luckily there was some cereal left. Unluckily there was only enough cocoa puffs for one person. At least Matt is fine with grape nuts. I poured the cereal for both of us, and we were about to sit down and eat when Jesus walks downstairs.
`` We have some cereal if you want to eat breakfast,'' I said to Jesus as he decended the last step.
`` The Son of Man came not be served, but to serve. Here are your grape nuts, Matt.''
`` Thanks Jesus, you're the best!''
Jesus turns to me. `` You know how you have sinned. You were not going to share the cocoa puffs, and now I will serve you up fresh dance moves if you decline to share your chocolately goodness.''
`` Challenge accepted. I got this in the bag. You so awkward, you walk around everywhere like you walking on water.''
`` We shall see about that'' Jesus said, right before busting out the fist move. He choses some rather fluid movements, displaying he is comfortable with his relationship with water.'' I have only one option.
`` I'll bring the heat.'' I stepped up the pace of the music to the next level. No, the next three levels. The moves I'm pulling off are legendary. It is the stuff Micheal Jackson would do if he were a super athlete in addition to being an amazing dancer. However, Jesus appears unaffected by my skilllfull movement endeavors. He responds with a set of moves unparalled by any dancer, except himself in adjacent universes. I do my best to top it, but none of my flashy combos come close to the deep artfullness of the set Jesus just laid down. I bow my head and kneel to jesus, as is customary for the loser in any dance battle in our frat house.
`` I now will claim my victory.'' Jesus walks to the cocoa puffs. It was already too late. The milk had compromised the cereal to an indistinguishable mush. I feel like a pile of rotten potatoes.
`` Forgive me Jesus, for my greed has extingished the hope of tasty cereal for all of us.''
`` Thou must not worry, I forgive you. If you have faith, there will be cocoa puffs.'' Right as I am conjuring up the possibility of the puffy stuff, all the grape nuts in the house turn to cocoa puffs.
`` It is a miracle!'' I cried tears of joy for the heavenly grain-derived breakfast.
`` I still like grape nuts better'' said Matt.
`` Way to be a bummer, Matt'' I responded.
`` We all must forgive and make peace.'' We all did a secret bro-shake and the weight of sin was lifted.
Twelve doves then drop off a few olive branches through the mail slot and flew off into the sunset at eleven in the morning. They had to fly really far.
|
[ WP ] `` Sometimes , you need to let the world burn in order to save it . The sooner you understand , the better . ''
| They call her a villain, whisper words like insanity as though they should matter to her.
She does n't listen, does n't care. There's only one thing she hears.
The fire calls to her, bright and blinding, eclipsing everything else around her. If she is the moth drawn to the flames, if she is Icarus chasing after the sun, then so be it. All she knows is that, she must.
Like a phoenix, she will rise.
-
The world burns, and the echoing screams of strangers bleed into the harried strains of her wild laughter. Fire swirls all around her, and she laughs from inside the inferno. Though her own skin burns and blackens, she pays it no heed and dances through the flames.
-
Of all the colours of the rainbow, red is the most beautiful of all, and will not rest until the whole world is so.
-
Such a terrible, sinful world.
-
`` You're a monster.''
-
`` No, I'm your *saviour*.''
-
The world needs a monster to fight against to save itself, and the sooner you understand that, the better.
|
[ WP ] Sarah , Tom and Vlad were a three-person crew specializing in helicopter thefts . 22 successful missions later , they went after their hardest target : a Blackhawk from the US military .
| Vlad was tired of this life, but they needed him. He was the only person that was both reliable and knew how to fly helicopters, and in the business of helicopter theft, those qualities were kind of important. Sure, they had once stole a helicopter that was on a flatbed, but they needed him for that too, because Sarah and Tom did n't know how to drive semi trucks either.
You see, they were Vlad's cats. And in his opinion, it is hard to be a globetrotting helicopter thief and leave your cats at home.
The target was an Air Force Blackhawk helicopter. With a value close to 20 million dollars on the black market, this would set Vlad, Sarah, and Tom for life.
Getting into the Air Force Base was almost too easy. He had spent a week of nights in his rental car just watching the guard routine and security measures. Getting a uniform was no problem too; with eBay and Cabela's having everything he needed to pose as a guard. Vlad could n't wait to get out of dirty Salem, Oregon.
While he prepared to hop the fence, he wiped the rain from his forehead and made kissing sounds to his two cats in the duffle bag.
`` This will be over faster than I can open a tuna can''. Their ears probably perked up with the mention of tuna. He gently lowered them over the first boundary fence with a rope and nimbly jumped over afterwards. After fixing the cut barbed wire to look uncut, he headed on.
Since this base was a joint public/government airport, security was not as much of a concern for him. He arrived at the next fence which was located right next to the helicopter pad. Just like as with the first, he cut the barb wire and then moved the cats over to the pad. Jumping over, he looked at his watch. He had 10 more minutes to start the helicopter and file a flight plan with the civilian tower. Those guys did n't keep track of the air force assets like the military tower did. Crossing the pad in a slink with his now-hungry cats in tow, he got to the aircraft with no problem. He tried the door. Unlocked.
Sliding into the pilot seat, the first thing he had to do was check how much fuel he had. The plan was to fly the Blackhawk to a barge that was sitting in the river before they could scramble a response, staying below radar so they did n't even know where to look. As the two GE T700 engines spun up, he patted the bag with the cats in it.
The guy in the tower was too busy playing FarmVille on Facebook to have a problem with a helicopter lifting off from refueling; he had a long night ahead of him and he wanted to make sure the corn was growing as soon as he got to work.
The base guards knew something was wrong when they heard an engine spool up because they did n't know of any night maintenance. They only realized how bad it was when a helicopter fly over their heads. They sounded the alarm and woke the base commander.
It was almost too easy for Vlad to fly the copter. It felt like an extension of him; both born in the 1970's and both ready to move on. He headed east like his flight plan stated and then descended under 600' and turned to the south. Vlad was lucky that it was raining, it would slow down pursuers. It made it harder to see, but he was in a valley and did n't need to worry about that yet.
60 miles away, in Portland, Steven Segall had just been woken up by a loud and harsh alarm. He joined the air force after retiring from being a superstar movie actor because it was always his dream to fly against terrorism, and now that the base alarm was going off, he knew it was his time to shine.
He threw on his flightsuit over his nevernude shorts and ran to find his jet. Because of chance scheduling circumstances, all the other jet pilots were off base and he was the only one available. His jet was in the air in under 10 minutes.
The beacon on the barge was steady and pierced through the night like a fork through a plump and juicy sausage. Vlad steadied the Blackhawk and landed it right on the markers. As he got his cats out, he felt a relief that this was the last job he had to do.
`` Great job Tom! Terriffic navigation Sarah!'' Vlad always gave credit where credit was due. As the buyer's goons closed the barge roof, Vlad collected his duffle bags of money and cats and started the drive to Eugene to meet his chartered jet to Hawaii.
Steven Segall zipped around the skies looking for the helicopter, his heart sinking with every moment he did n't spot it. The radar was of no use due to the mountains in the area and it would take ages to see if any satellite photos captured what had happened to the helicopter. Steven Segall would n't give up, not now, not ever.
|
[ RF ] I am all that remains of the man I once was
| When I was young, I was always told I was intelligent, talented, and bound for something great. I was friendly and approachable, so I never wanted for company, and did n't have to try to be anyone other than who I naturally was. It was all so easy. I was encouraged to live as I wished, and to let my imagination run wild. The person I loved most, my grandfather, once took me to an old castle. He said that he liked to imagine he had a castle inside himself. It had strong walls, though it had aged with him and was beginning to show the wear and tear of time, and was protected by all the versions of himself that he loved and wanted to keep. His happiness, courage, strength, passion, love, all the best parts of him would march the walls and guard the courtyard where he let himself grow and flourish. The dungeon would be filled with the darkest parts of himself, but he said he had to keep those parts too.
`` We ca n't be perfect,'' my grandfather had said in a matter-of-fact tone, `` Because we are human. It is human to be bad, even though we want to be good. Sometimes those parts of ourselves we consider bad will escape from the dungeon and overpower those parts we consider good, but they do it because they are a part of us. They are the selfish parts of us. And even they are n't the worst parts of us...''
He had trailed off, and I remember that he looked like he was remembering something that made him look sad and weary. I'd asked what were the worst parts, and he'd slowly lost the sad and weary look.
`` The worst parts,'' He had said quietly, `` Will overpower the good and the bad parts. They destroy the walls we've built, and they burn the beautiful courtyard we try so hard to preserve. Those parts do n't always stick around, and sometimes we survive their escape and rebuild. But the courtyard is never the same. The walls are always scarred. And they will always come back after that first escape, because they want to control the castle or destroy it completely.''
It did n't make much sense to me as a kid, but I've always remembered that conversation. It was just after the Pokémon movie was released, and my grandfather had seemed to think it was so important he tell me about his castle and courtyard. Tell me that I must always protect the walls from the very worst parts of myself and others. He died a few days after that.
I'm not sure when it all began to change, but change it did. I'd like to say it was in middle school, but I honestly ca n't trust my own memory these days.
Something inside me began to decay.
Or perhaps something horrible began to grow? Like creeper vines slowly overpowering all the beautiful flowers in a garden, the aspects of myself that made me `` me'' were slowly eclipsed by this choking vine.
Where once I was optimistic, I became jaded. Easily explained away by simply saying that life wears away at a person until they are harder pressed to stay positive, but it felt so much worse than that. I was n't just that I was jaded, but I was weary and cynical. Not really much more than a child but viewing the world like a man at the end of his long and bleak life. This cloud, this gray that overshadowed the once vibrant world, was just the beginning of a much more destructive storm.
I carried on and did as I was told but felt the constant downward pull of the perpetually increasing downpour of despair. School became more and more arduous, meeting new people became a chore, and the extracurricular activities I had once been highly praised for partaking in became a trial.
This took years, really. I put myself into situations that would only end badly; delving into drugs and a debauched lifestyle for the sake of feeling *alive, * and convincing myself I was the villain in my own life's story. The people that I met and let into my mental castle would tell me I had a beautiful courtyard, and that I needed to let more see what I could create. Despite the storm I felt perpetually covered my world, they always said I could brighten it up for others. The creativity and friendliness I was capable of showing made many fall in love with me, and I even chose to keep a few around. I married one, though we both wonder why.
I pushed them away. I pushed everyone away. Because they were only visiting the castle, and they did n't live in the confines of its lonely gray walls. The good parts of me let the bad parts take over, and from there it only made sense that the worst parts of me would follow suit. The worst parts of me destroyed the love of my family, they destroyed the lives of people that trusted me, and they tried to destroy me. I survived the worst parts of me, though not without my fair share of scars.
It's been years since I let the worst parts of me take control and try to kill me. I've repaired my walls, but there does n't seem to be much left to guard.
The courtyard is ashen and bare. The walls are manned by the bad parts of who I am, and I can not seem to find the parts of me I was told would best guard my little castle: happiness, love, faith, courage, honor. All virtues are gone.
Loneliness and Melancholy flank the dour visage of Duty, the only thing that keeps the castle from succumbing to the storm.
Each day, Duty gets me out of bed.
Each day, Duty makes me journey to the job I hate and return to the wife I hate.
Each day, Duty keeps me from disappearing.
I am all that remains of the man I once was. There are ghosts within these walls, phantom whispers of what could have been if the storm had never settled over the beautiful courtyard. I've tilled the ashen ground in hopes of finding some small sign of the life it once held, but there is nothing.
I no longer fear death. I see his face in the mirror every day.
|
[ WP ] The other space faring species of the Milky Way have been jamming FTL technology from working in Earth 's solar system to prevent it from being invented in the first place . They have never encountered a race as determined as humanity before .
| Translated from Zxyglarian:
“ General Yrnxal, sir. ” Saluted young Taxganic Galactic Officer, Ungran. His flipper bent awkwardly to his highest left eye.
“ What is the status of the Earthlings? ” Asked the General. He wasn ’ t interested in Earth. It was a backwater violent place that he felt should have been destroyed when they first found it.0075 Galactic Cycles ago.
“ All is well sir, they have barely reached the borders of their own solar system. ” Officer Ungran was still saluting. His aching flipper had slipped to his middle left eye. Taxganic weren ’ t meant to bend like this, he thought.
“ Good. ”
“ But… ” The Office paused.
“ But? ” The General asked looking up from his report and glaring his three large glowing red eyes at the Officer. The General was a Raxglan. He was twich the hight as the office, round with small legs and tentacle arms. Spike jetted out along his large body.
“ There seems to be a small pocket of humans that are making considerable advances. ” The officer still saluting, but his tired flipper has slipped to his lowest left eye. He was dreading what he knew would be next.
“ Explain. ” The General spikes flexed with his annoyance.
“ Sir, we have been monitoring the human ’ s main communication system. Something they call the Intertubes. We thought it was called the Internet, but one of their leaders referred to it as the Intertubes. It has caused us some confusion. ”
“ Yes, yes. Get on with it. ” Glowered the general. The spikes worried the Taxganic, he was too soft to be around the General.
“ Sorry sir. We have been monitoring one of the more popular communications hubs. They seem to love the color red, but we are unsure why. It ’ s red here and it ’ s red there. They can ’ t even seem to spell it correctly, they always add an extra “ D ” and we are still unsure.. ” The officer was cut off with a gruff humph from the General. The motion brought the spikes closer to the Office who oozed back a bit on his long tail.
“ Why are you telling me all this? ” Asked the General even more annoyed than when the office had approached him.
“ Sorry again, sir. This popular red place has a small faction that is making progress on engineering large structures in space. They call themselves \r\spaceengineers. ”
The General ’ s glowing read eyes stared at the office for a few moments. “ And? ”
“ We tried to infiltrate their small group and attempt to thwart their endeavors. But we were told to GTFO Newbie. Working on translating that next sir. ”
“ How long until you think they can achieve FTL? ” The General ’ s annoyance grew. The humans can ’ t be let out into the universe. He had seen first hand the videos when they Call Their Warriors to Duty. It was terrifying.
“ Maybe another.00003 Galactic Cycles sir. ”
“ Keep me posted on their progress, we may need to eliminate the treat if they get to close. Anything else? ”
Ooze dripped from the Officer ’ s snout as he felt embarrassment for his next report. “ Ah, yes sir. We have attempted to communicate with one of the entities they appear to worship. The only response we have gotten is, uh, meow. ”
|
[ OT ] SatChat : How do you get yourself started when beginning a story ?
| I'm from Portugal and I started by writing some cringey poetry when I was a teen ( luckily, I hope there's no record of that! ). My big drive to writing began a couple of years ago when my cousin gave me a book called `` 642 things to write about'' and my ex also encouraged me to do it.
Right now I have some ideas, but I just do n't know how to approach some of them or to where I want them to go... I feel like I need to be in the right mood to write and that's not always easy.
My `` best story'' is about a cockroach invasion on a bookshop ( I worked at one! ) and it really began with a cockroach invasion when I just wanted to write a note saying `` They've returned!'': )
|
[ WP ] Make the most mundane and boring thing you can think off , exciting
| He had to hurry, she'd be home soon but he wanted to savor it. He held it, caressing it, blood coursing through his veins in anticipation. Thumbs lovingly stroke it's surface. He watches it's surface grow smooth and shiny as he applies pressure. Almost there, pulse racing, pupils dilated, one last squeeze and it gave. Echo after echo reverberates through the quiet apartment, endorphins flood his brain, eyes unfocus, a soft sigh escapes his lips. Thumbs a blur, lost in euphoria his mind in another place. He hears the door open and shut, keys drop into the little porcelain bowl. He looks at the spent sheet of bubble wrap in his trembling hands. She rolls her eyes.
|
[ WP ] Nobody has freedom of speech as a right . To publish anything publically you have to have a license to speech . Today you 're applying for your internet license to write your own blog . How does it go ?
| **PART 1**
“ Dammit dammit dammit! ”
It was the internal refrain that matched the rhythm of my sprint as I rounded the corner and barreled past the stuffy looking men standing quietly at the bus stop. Never did the words leave my lips though. Not today. I admit that on any other day I might have allowed an “ accidental ” curse or two to escape, but today wasn ’ t the day to take such risks.
I dodged between a man on a skateboard and a couple women who leaned against the brick of an official looking building on their smoke break then cut across the street at the first opportunity. A miscalculation. The green sedan I had hoped to beat closed the distance far faster than I was expecting and slammed on its breaks with a squeal that rang through the otherwise quiet boulevard. Heads turned to stare and I gave the most apologetic gesture I could, but there wasn ’ t time to stop.
At five minutes to the hour I was within sight of city hall. I would like to say that I picked up my pace, but exercise wasn ’ t really my forte, and so huffing and wheezing I stumbled through the glass doors and directly into the chest of a large man wearing the uniform of security guard. He glared at me, but only pointed to the sign above the metal detector that directed me to relinquish just about every object of value on my body short of my pants into the waiting grey tub on the conveyer belt. I did as directed only to realize as I removed my watch that I was out of time.
With all my possessions safely under the watchful eye of the guard manning the x-ray machine, I finished my journey, arriving at the receptionist ’ s desk shoeless and stumbling. She was unfazed.
“ State your name and business. ” She didn ’ t look up as she spoke, only continued to scratch an infinite series of check marks onto the form in her hands. Her grey perm shook with every flick of her pen and the scent of bubblegum wafted up from her smacking lips, dyed a vivid shade of purple.
I steadied myself on the wooden trim below the gap in the window that separated us and tried to catch my breath. After a few seconds where I feared I might collapse onto the tile floor I felt the oxygen return to my brain. “ Benjamin North. I ’ m here… ” I paused between panting gasps. “ I have an interview for an online speech license. ”
She didn ’ t shift her focus from the paper, just reached across the desk and hit a button on the keyboard that sat below the computer monitor next to her then continued her endless checklist. “ You ’ re late. ”
My heart sank. Months of preparation and paperwork all down the drain and nothing to show for it.
“ FUCK! ” I said it under my breath, but that time I said it.
The receptionist frowned and paused her gum chewing momentarily but ignored it.
“ I know, I know… ” I said in my most imploring voice, hoping to salvage anything from the situation. “ I just… The parking was miles away, there was all this construction, and then with the security up front… Maybe, is there any way I could make an appointment for another day, reschedule? ” It wasn ’ t great, but it was my best shot now. I clasped my hands together as though to say a prayer to the god of receptionists and did my best to sound pitiful. “ Please, if there ’ s anything I can do, anything at all… ”
For once she looked me in the eyes, but only to roll them and sigh. “ I don ’ t care. You think I care that you ’ re late? ” she asked incredulously, “ Go take a seat in there with everybody else. ” She pointed to a large wooden doorway off to her left then returned to her previous activities once more.
The security guard scowled at me as I apologized and collected my belongings, but it was better to have angered him than the people in charge I reasoned. With my shoes and affects back where they belonged I continued to the waiting room I ’ d been directed to. It was dark, but not for lack of light. Green carpeting and wood paneled walls were matched by dozens of uncomfortable looking chairs in parallel lines interspersed with the occasional bare table. A black door sat at the far end of the room and above it a clock. The only decorations were a few randomly hung posters adorned with smiling people and slogans such as “ Positive words build a positive world ” or “ A patriot builds, a critic breaks. ”
Other than myself only about twenty people were waiting, quietly watching the black door waiting for their turn. An older man towards the front of the room seemed agitated. He fidgeted with the buttons of his shirt constantly and every now and then ran a hand over his head and through what little hair he had in a worried fashion. A younger woman sat next to him squeezing his shoulder. The rest mostly looked bored or annoyed. One middle aged woman snored softly, her head lolled to one side resting against the back of the chair and a fine line of drool making its way down her cheek. I took a seat toward the back and began mentally practicing my pitch.
An hour into my wait the room had cleared a bit. A few people had left, a smaller number had arrived. I continued to rehearse my pitch, but there wasn ’ t much I could do. By time the third hour rolled around the room was mostly empty and I was bored. Most of those who had been waiting before me had gone through the door and come back out, the only exceptions being the sleeping woman who had yet to be called and the worried old man who had gone in but not come back. The woman who had been with him hadn ’ t been allowed to enter. By the fifth hour I was alone and had begun to worry.
I considered asking the receptionist what was taking so long, but I had made it as far as the doorway before she had seen me and scared me back the way I came with a rather unwelcoming glare. I wondered if maybe I had done something wrong. I mean, I ’ d openly cursed, but that was just a minor infraction. Though, maybe in a government building like this it was worse.
I was hungry and on the verge of giving up when the door at the back opened and a man with a strong jawline and a cheap looking suit stepped through. “ Mr. North. ” he said and gestured for me to follow as he stepped back through and let the door close behind him.
I jumped from my seat and ran to catch up. I hesitated at the door unsure of whether I was allowed to open it or if I even wanted to, but I had waited long enough that I might as well see this thing through good or bad. It was flimsier than I thought it would be, and when opened the waiting room gave way to a nondescript white hallway lined with neat looking offices in each of which sat a man or woman wearing a cheap suit like the man who stood before me.
|
[ WP ] What if someone who was really into pain was getting tortured ?
| The woman was seated in a thick framed wooden chair in a dark room. A single lamp dangled from the low ceiling. Suddenly the door was flung open and a man walked in, dressed in a suit and tie. He had pitch black hair, cut short, and eyes that matched.
`` Hello handsome,'' the woman purred, puffing her chest out as far as she could with the restraints. The man said nothing.
`` Man of few words eh?''
`` I'd just like to ask you a few questions.''
`` Oh? And what if I... decline to answer?'' she said, allowing a seductive tone to creep into her voice, her mouth curling up into a sly smile.
`` Then things could get... unpleasant''
`` Oh baby I ca n't wait.''
The man simply placed an unassuming briefcase onto the table next to the chair, and flipped it open, revealing an array of blades, tongs, and some strange things too like a small bottle of lemon juice. The woman licked her lips in anticipation. The man pulled out a wicked looking karambit blade and held it to her face. The shuddered in anticipation, her wetness beginning to see through her suitpants. But then the man stopped. He glanced down and smiled. He reached back and flipped a switch flooding the room with light. The woman blinked back tears of surprise. The man casually tossed the knife behind him and went around to the back if the chair.
`` Wait, what the hell are you doing!?'' the woman cried out.
He gently massaged her shoulders while smooth jazz began to pour it of hidden speakers. She panted in pain and anger, her release denied.
`` No! Ill talk, just bring the knife back! Torture me! I want pain!''
But the man just smiled and continued.
`` No! Noooooooooooooo!!!'' she screamed as she got blue balled harder than a frat boy's mum walking in 4 seconds in to his 5 second long blowjob.
|
[ WP ] Everybody you know is addicted to a new tv show , however when you watch it all you see is black on the screen .
| I've heard of this new tv show everyone is watching and decide to attend a viewing party my friend is hosting, as soon as I get to his house I grab a beer, socialize for a bit with the few people I know and wait for the show to start. Roughly 45 minutes go by and everyone starts to gather around on my friends couch to watch, 5 minutes go by and all I see is black on the screen, I sit patiently and start to casually look around to see if anyone else seems as impatient for the show to start as me, nobody does. I look at the screen again... Then I look back at everyone who all look very intrigued, I start to try and speak to ask why nothing is playing and I get simultaneously in about 12 demonic voices to `` shut the fuck up''. I stop talking, I sit as still as I can trying to be as quiet as possible, I'm sitting on the end of the couch because I wanted an arm rest so I try and excuse myself to the restroom but someone behind me who I've never met before grabs my shoulder and pushes me back down into my seat with unrealistic strength, this does n't phase anyone, and I can now feel in exact detail where this guy put his hands on my shoulders, at this point I'm terrified I do n't know what to do so I start to think, why am I the only one who is seeing a black screen? Commercial break comes and everyone is back to normal like nothing happened everyone leaves the couch to grab snacks and refreshments I can see the screen again and a Dairy Queen commercial comes on, I go to talk to my friend who is hosting the party I tell him I only see black on the screen he looks at me like I'm crazy and he tells me that he does n't know what I'm talking about, he tells me about the show he was watching, I tell someone else I know at the party who I knew from back in high school he gives me the same response except he tells me about a completely different tv show, I talk to a third person who again does n't believe what I'm saying and again tells me about a completely different show, I start to think I'm going crazy but I ca n't be, can I? No no no everyone is talking about a different tv show something is n't right.....I wake up. XP
|
[ WP ] A character in a crime novel uses their ability to break the fourth wall as a super power , identifying and analyzing literary devices and embedded symbolism in order to acquire life saving information that would be impossible to gain otherwise .
| Blood seeped from beneath the doorway. The preliminary calls were n't lying, thought Detective Sanchez, apartment 403 sure was shaping up to be a mess.
`` That's pretty theatrical,'' Sanchez muttered under his breath. The surrounding officers gave a perfunctory chuckle. Sanchez often said things that were strange or could seem callous, but he always solved the case. Those that worked with him had long accepted his eccentricities.
`` That's lazy writing. Show, do n't tell,'' Sanchez said. Sanchez made note that his narrator is somewhat constrained by the form and he'd do well to just stick to his own goddamn job.
`` Sounds like an excuse to me,'' Sanchez said, as he unbuttoned his pants, being gently reminded who holds the power here. `` Oh, come on! Seriously? You give me blood under a door and I'm just supposed to ignore that this whole thing is a trope?''
Sanchez was being very sultry in the removal of his pants. Oooh boy, was he gettin' wild. The other officers recoiled, showing emotion rather than having it narrated for them, thanks. This haughty strip-tease would surely ruin Sanchez's professional reputation if he did n't shape up.
`` Fine! Okay. Let's go. Jesus,'' the detective sighed and picked his callously disregarded pants up from the floor and put them back on. The other officers were willing to overlook this to allow the narrator to make a point. Everyone is cool now.
The inside of apartment 403 delivered with grim promise. The walls and floor were coated with a mix of blood and entrails, as though the killer were in the middle of new paint scheme.
`` I object to that line,'' Sanchez said, brazenly interrupting the narrative again. `` It's stupid. It's a stupid line. Further than that, this is still exactly what happens everywhere. Some horrific apartment murder. I bet she's a woman, too, right? It'll probably be an ex-lover, but he'll be connected to some much larger murder cult? Is this all close? Maybe a hurt, but strong, sister character who will fall for me? I'll turn her away in the end though, because I'm married to the job, right?'' Sanchez apparently had a disdain for storytelling.
At the insistence of uppity interference, let's go back to opening the door. Also, no more accompanying officers. Sanchez is alone because he can handle it.
`` You're the worst.''
He can handle it. Sanchez opens the door to apartment 403 to find that it's filled with live grizzly bears.
`` Oh, Christ! No! Wait!'' he objects, but it's too late because there's like thirty of the suckers in apartment 403 and they're very hungry. The bears are on Sanchez immediately because, again, they're so hungry.
`` Show, do n't tell,'' Sanchez manages to shout above the fray of starved grizzly roars. Detective Sanchez will remain attacked by bears until he accepts who is in charge here.
|
[ WP ] Write about two ten-year-olds ( or younger ) playing outside and having a conversation , but make the scene or their conversation stand for something deeper . ( Allegory , Metaphor , symbolism , etc.. )
| `` What do you think is up there?'' The first of the two boys spoke. He was the first to speak since they'd reached their favorite hill. It was the spot they always returned to. Him and his best friend, they were almost brothers.
Everyday they went to that hill. They laid down on either side and shouted to each other. Hoping that one day they could play together.
`` Up where? The sky?''
`` Yeah. But past the clouds I mean.''
`` I do n't think anyone but the birds knows what's up there.''
`` Yeah, I guess. But still, use your imagination! What do you think is up there?''
`` I guess I imagine it like a kingdom. God sitting up there on his throne, all his angels being his loyal subjects and doing as he asks. Jesus is his prince of course.''
`` Wait a minute! You believe in God?!'' He sounded surprised.
`` Yeah, of course! Does n't everybody?''
`` My mommy and daddy say that believers are bad people. You do n't seem like a bad person, though. They say you guys are crazy kooks that believe in fairies and dragons and stuff like that.''
`` I do n't think I'm a bad person. I almost never get grounded. And I definitely do n't believe in dragons.''
`` Yeah. Me either.''
`` So you do n't believe in God?''
`` Of course not. Why would I? There's no proof there's a God. No scien- sceen-, I ca n't ever pronounce that dang word...''
`` Scientific?'' The second boy said with a smile.
`` Yeah! That one! There's no scientific proof there is one. So why should I believe in it? Everything else is provable.''
`` I guess you're right. There is no proof.''
`` So why do you still believe than?''
`` I do n't know. My mommy and daddy always told me there was one. They have no reason to lie to me. And I can feel it in my heart.''
`` Yeah but my mom and dad do n't have any reason to lie either! And they say there is n't one!''
`` So... who's right?''
`` I do n't know.''
`` Me either.''
`` So... what do you think is up there than? If not God, than what?''
`` Just air and stuff. Oxygen, the atmosphere, crazy gases no one has ever heard of. Space. The sun...''
`` I like mine better. It's more interesting. More fun.''
`` It's not about what's fun! It's about what's real.''
`` Agree to disagree?''
`` Sure.''
`` Still want to be friends?''
`` Of course!''
[ -005 ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1ugx4f/z/cei26uk ) ***Link to previous entry***
|
[ WP ] You are 80 % certain you 're being stalked by Phil Collins .
| `` I'll tell you my life philosophy John, something I've been thinking about for a few years now. This has helped me through some bad times, so I'd like to share it.''
`` Alright man, let me get another round of beers first.''
John got up, and made his way to the empty bar counter and returned a few minutes later with two pints of dark beer. We clink our glasses and John offers a toast to the girl tending bar.
`` Alright shoot, tell me what you've got.''
`` Well it's simple really. I never deal in absolutes anymore, in fact my thought on life is that at any given time the possibility of anything NOT happening is only 20 %. Take that girl behind the bar for example, I figure that I only have a 20 % chance of NOT getting her into bed.''
`` Huh, is this some sort of Pick Up philosophy, because that stuff is pretty lame man.''
`` No, no, it's not like that. It's sort of the opposite really, this keeps me from getting too cocky. Rather than thinking everything is going to go the way I see it I think about how it could n't happen. So I do n't focus on what could happen, instead I think about what wo n't happen.''
I'm 80 % sure about a lot of stuff, some of it scares me. Some of it is normal, but focusing on the other 20 % puts things into perspective. If I want to do something difficult I just focus on what's preventing it.''
John looked at me for a moment without saying anything. `` Hey man, this is n't about... You know, him.''
`` What? That? No man, no, nothing like that.''
I sat back, taking another sip of my beer. There was a 20 % chance that I would n't get totally hammered tonight. With the same odds for getting a pizza later on. I smiled inwardly feeling better about the past few months.
John heard the noise before me, trouble was starting up outside of the bar. It was getting late, the shouting did n't surprise me. It sounded like a fight, maybe someone had been hurt.
There was movement at the door. Men walking in with their backs to us and shouting, like they were trying to keep something out. I could n't figure out what was going on, this was n't an ordinary fight. Someone was trying to force their way in
The men at the door fell back, it looked like they were cut up really bad. I coud see deep gouges on one guys face. John said something faint, maybe it was `` He's looking for you''. When I turned back John was gone and I was alone, the rest of the patrons had fled out the back.
Through the dim lighting I could see the man who had breached the wall of bodies. He was naked except for an even coat of blood, head to toe. The cut up guy on the ground let out a whimper and tried to crawl away. The standing automaton vacantly looked down, then raised his foot and crushed the wounded mans head in one strike.
As the naked man approached me he slowly came into the light. I could see his face, twisted into a rage, eyes black but deep. He looked vaguely familiar, for some reason I thought of music.
I was pinned against the back wall now, my hands splayed before me in an effort to ward off the inevitable killing blow. I had a song in my head, a song from years ago, a thousand miles from here. Something about a beach.
The man raised a bloody arm, pointed it my way. I recognized him, my world fell apart. I howled in fright, trying to ward him away by will alone. My legs turned soft under me and I sloughed back. He was on me now, I let myself say his impossible name in my head. Phil Collins. He raised a foot above my head, my last insane vision were the chunk of brains clinging between his blackened toes as the foot came down above me.
My last thought was a recent, something I had been talking about earlier.
`` I was only 20 % sure this was n't going to happen.''
|
[ WP ] When close to death people experience an intense euphoria not comparable to any drug . Furthermore , as mankind makes great leaps in medicine , it becomes easier to bring people back from the brink of death . As a result , some have become addicted to the thrill dying .
| I was on my way home from my cabin and drove during the night. I know I was tired, but I am certainly smart enough to not fall asleep. All it takes is 2 sec of bad luck, then my life may cease to be.
I blinked and when I opened my eyes, there was a deer in the headlights. I stepped on the break and almost drove into a ditch. My heart was pounding and I had to step outside just to be sure I did n't hit it. No, the car is fine. And I kept on driving.
Two hours later, I was closing the city. Still tired as hell, but still able to drive home. I stopped at an intersection, I kept looking both ways. Nothing. I stepped on the pedal when I suddenly saw some bright lights, then everything went black. I woke up in a bed with machines attached my skin. I found out I had crashed and gotten some minor injuries.
A week later, I was signed out.
Fast forward a couple of years, I met this fantastic girl. Megan was her name.
She was the one, I am glad to now call her my wife. We spent 10 years together when we were blessed with our first born child. A beautiful baby girl with the name of Linda.
Fast forward a few years again, we as a family did every possible family cliche there is. Everything from birthday parties, Linda' graduation, getting a dog. You name it. I wish this could last.
I was 62 when my heart ached and I fell to the ground. My wife came quickly to watch over me before the paramedics arrived. I was back at the same hospital I was at in my 20s.
My heart jumping out of my chest as the machines and the doctors were screaming. My eyelids were getting heavier.
I woke up by an intersection during the night with a paramedic crew over looking over me. I was scared beyond belief and confused.
All I could think of that did hurt more than my broken bones after getting hurled through the window, was the loss of my beloved family. I had been living with them for almost 30 years and now it's gone.
The years afterwards were tough. I resorted to heavy drinking and lived my life as a recluse. Twenty years later after the crash, I learned that there was a method to bring people back whom had been declared dead much longer than before. Maybe there is hope?
|
[ WP ] While browsing in an Apple store in 2015 , someone notices that you still use a flip phone .
| `` You're like... old school, huh? ``, the young man nodded towards the device that Mark was clutching in his left hand. As much as his large hands hid the device, the stubby antenna always stuck out. Mark smiled and shrugged his shoulders, like most people would react, but did not instinctively look at the phone in his hand, as most people would also do.
Mark was not most people. The smile and shrug were not instinctive, but years of training and conditioning, as was his disciplined stance in holding the phone below his waist level.
As he walked past the inquisitor and blended into the crowd, he continued to hold his phone below his waist. A female voice crackled in his concealed earpiece. `` Thirty seconds to cutoff, Boss''.
In thirty seconds, every cellular network in a five mile radious around the store would be shutdown, except a lone antenna on top of The Olympic Tower four blocks away. Mark mumbled under his breath `` Gert, I need two more minutes. Stall the guys in the command van''.
`` I'll try, Boss, but they already said they do n't want to see my boobs again'', Gert replied calmly.
As he rapidly moved through the crowd, his phone vibrated gently and a faint beeping tone started in his earpiece. `` Contact! ``, Mark muttered.
`` Gotcha! That's our target. Between your 9 and 11 o'clock. Less than ten feet'', Gert replied.
Mark scanned the room rapidly, sizing up the massive throng of shoppers hunched over various displays and devices. He did not look at their faces, but rather at their hands and locked in one of those pairs of hands, which seemed to be doing nothing that hands were supposed to do in an Apple Store.
Swiftly and silently, Mark made his way behind the owner of those hands and gently stabbed the antenna of his phone into the lower back and pressed it hard. `` Dark! Dark! ``, he growled with gritted teeth as he put an arm around the stunned body and ushered them towards the front door. A few heads turned around at the rapid movement, but before they could process the event, the power went out and the store's emergency lights came on.
The crowd gave a collective groan and looked around themselves in mild frustration and confusion. Many picked up their own phones, to find something else to look at, tweet about the most exciting thing ever to happen in their mundane lives or post a # poweroutselfie on social media. Within ten seconds, the hushed hubub of the crowd turned to loud protestations of `` What the fuck?! ``, `` Do you have any bars?! ``, `` This sucks balls!'' as every phone lost its signal. Except Mark's phone, which had already pinned itself to the antenna on top of The Olympic Tower.
As Mark exited the store, a minivan pulled up and a nurse in scrubs stepped out to help Mark strap the target into the rear seat. `` White LandCruiser. Twenty Yards. 9 o'clock'', Gert rattled off and climbed into the rear seat next to the target.
Mark turned around and walked towards the vehicle as the minivan sped away. All around him, there were quite a few confused and frustrated pedestrians who seemed to be temporarily stunned and paralyzed by their disconnected phones.
`` Airport. Go! ``, Mark exclaimed as he climbed into the passenger seat and buckled up. The LandCruiser made a u-turn and sped towards the airport as Mark flipped open his phone and started dialing.
`` You know the network's knocked out for a few more miles. Unless you're playing Tetris on that museum piece, we're pretty much...'', The Driver stopped mid-sentence as he overheard a faint ringing tone from the phone's earpiece.
`` Hey! Quick question, how far is the Post Office from the office? Oh... like a twenty minute walk? OK. Gotcha. Thanks''. Mark closed the phone and turned to the driver. `` Wheels up in twenty minutes''.
`` We'll be there in less than fifteen'', The Driver replied as he lowered his window and stuck a red strobe light to the roof of the LandCruiser. The siren wailed as SUV accelerated and weaved through the traffic parting in front of them.
The Driver looked at his phone, which after exhausting half its battery desperately trying to connect to anything that would respond, had now surrendered and was showing a `` barred'' symbol instead of the signal bars. `` How in the fuck...?''
`` You have much to learn, Young Skywalker'', Mark mimicked in a slow, gravely voice.
`` No shit Emperor! How is that Grandmaphone still working when every unit around here is knocked out? ``, The Driver was puzzled.
`` Old-school analog and Mobitex national network that is completely independent of the mainstream cellular networks. Also, unlike your modern high-falootin' contraption, this phone is so old school that the Ministry of State Security ca n't hack into it'', Mark explained. `` And, the network it runs on is so old and obsolete that they do n't even have the gear to monitor it anymore''.
`` How could the MSS not know about a cellular network in their own turf? ``, The Driver was curious.
`` They do vaguely know it exists, but the traffic is so insignificant that they just do n't care. When the analog and Mobitex networks went obsolete a while back, a Hong Kong front company bought up the entire national network. The networks, antenna rights, frequencies - the whole enchilada. The censors and the Great Firewall are fed a bunch of mundane claptrap, not unlike what you just overheard and we get a convenient, full coverage mobile network in hostile territory''.
As the LandCruiser pulled up in front of the hangar, The Driver turned to Mark and exclaimed. `` I'm stunned. Running the biggest, most clandestine cellular network in the whole goddamed world. Hidden in plain sight. Inside Pinko fucking China. Our boys in Langley definitely have some serious cojones to pull of something this bad-ass''.
`` Actually, the network and the phones are all courtesy of our Finnish Cousins, not our homeboys'', Mark replied. `` And the Finns definitely know a thing or two about mobile phones''.
`` You're shitting me! The Finns? ``, The Driver was surprised, `` I did n't realize SUPO ran this network. Wow!''
`` Hmm... Technically, not SUPO. This was/is soup to nuts a brainchild of Finnish Naval Intelligence''.
`` What...?! Now my mind is fucking blown. I did n't even know they had a goddamn fucking navy! Much less a Naval Intelligence division!!''. The Driver shook his head.
Mark smiled. `` That's how good they are''.
|
[ WP ] An island that is the safest place on the planet . Humans live in complete harmony with nature . Photos have leaked , sparking interest from tourist groups . You are tasked with filling the internet with misinformation about the pics and island , to keep people in fear of it .
| Havenia is a tropical paradise just waiting for YOU! Yellow fever has all but vanished from the island, so now is the perfect time for you to grab your swim suit, snorkel, goggles and shark repellent and relax! A good night's sleep is guaranteed with the curfew keeping everyone safe and cosy in well-appointed hotels which have already shown themselves proof against earthquake and flood many times.
A chorus of night-singing crows will serenade you throughout the night, giving way to the beautiful sounds of Crested Shrieking Carranistas at dawn. The Carranista has proven to be only slightly more aggressive than the cassowary it is related to, and is less territorial, with several males tolerating each other's presence and barely ever attacking even small humans. Your chances of being hurt by this five foot tall, splendidly feathered bird are minimal and they almost never go near the beach in the sultry evenings that are this island's speciality. DEET is available everywhere and is very reasonably priced, so there is no need to cover up!
You can drink Havenia's special cocktail, the Roulette, made from prune brandy, water that has previously been boiled and just enough bitter almond to enhance the taste - inexperienced drinkers may wish to sip slowly as this can be a heady treat for some.
And what better way to challenge yourself than by climbing the scenic hills that cover 90 % of the island? These soaring monuments have been compared to Uluru, and are more accessible. The seventeen different species of viper, unique to Havenia, form a colourful tapestry you can view on the way up.
Visits start from only $ 2500 for a weekend with electricity and up to two litres of bottled water per day included in all the bills. Health\*, travel and kidnapping\*\* insurance are available through our booking office at a cut-down rate. Room service is not included.
\* Health insurance does not cover malaria, leishmaniasis, schistosomiasis, onchocerciasis, lymphatic filariasis, Chagas disease, Havenian trypanosomiasis, Havenia variant ebola or dengue, or injuries sustained while travelling in unsafe areas. Vaccinations against some diseases may be required. See policy for details.
**Kidnapping insurance does not apply if policy holder is outside after government-mandated curfew.
[ Book Now ] ( http: //www.tripadvisor.co.uk/Hotel_Review-g54359-d97498-Reviews-Tropical_Seas_Hotel-Myrtle_Beach_South_Carolina.html ) for the trip of a lifetime!
|
[ WP ] You are a burglar . You just broke into someoes house and they just mopped . You try not to get the floors dirty .
| `` What a lovely place,'' I thought. `` Shame about the window.'' The broken glass glittered on the black granite countertop, and moonlight diffused from behind me into the interior of the house. An island counter posted itself in the middle of the spacious kitchen, and the room was large enough to swallow the sound of my entry. A cat meowled somewhere in the night.
I tiptoed through the window, careful not to knock any glass onto the floor. It would be much easier to clean from the counter, I knew, and I would n't want to put undue burden on my new benefactors. I stood on the counter, although I know that's rude in most households, to survey the place.
Not a sound accompanied my breathing, and the ground floor seemed to vibrate with silence and soft darkness. A sheen glowed from the marble-tiled floor, caught by the light behind me and the mirror-polished oven window across the room. `` Rats,'' I thought, `` They've mopped the floor. Who mops the floor at night? Must've had a spill.'' I delicately moved myself along the counter towards the dining room. Wooden floors, a delightfully warm hue in rosewood, but still wet.
I felt a little indignant. `` Not really fair,'' I mumbled. `` I come all this way to visit their valuables and they've not even let the floors dry yet. They should be more prompt about their tidying.'' Still, I respectfully removed my shoes and placed them by my entrance.
Still tiptoeing, so as not to leave any streaks on the exquisite marble, I moved about the floor and appreciated my new belongings. A silver three-pronged candelabra decorated the island, which I was delighted to acquire after etching the base to confirm its value. Their espresso machine was new, and of fine make, so I left them the machine from the last house to make room in my duffel. I was happy not to see a Keurig; nice to see some coffee purists in this neighborhood. They had a beautiful collection of Saber knives on the magnet near the oven, which I gladly accepted, as well as the small flat-screen mounted to the wall which I'm sure was a wonderful addition for the missus of the house. Finally, as is customary, I took a single beer from the refrigerator. Corona's not my favorite, but I would've felt guilty making such a dent in their four-pack of Dogfish Head.
As I exited, I left an entry in their guestbook, a marvelous tome bound in red leather with their surname in gilded script on the cover, although I could n't make it out in the dark. `` I had such a nice time, you're wonderful hosts. I love the gifts, and I know my pawnbroker will just ADORE the candelabra!''
It would be rude not to, I figured, and they kept such a lovely home. I ducked out the window and when I reached the ground I smacked my forehead laughably. `` Almost forgot,'' I sang lightly to myself, as I retrieved my shoes from the counter inside the window.
|
[ WP ] Those noises you hear when it 's windy outside , the moaning ones . It 's not the wind . . .
| There is a window. No light shines through, though it is day. The glass rattles as a low, bass note rumbles outside. A radio sits on the window-sill, static screaming still, until a saw-tooth tone sounds against the hollow howling beyond the windowpane. Three times it sounds, two seconds each, a split-second of silence between its chirps. A warbling voice hiccups into the turbulent air:
> We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming. This is an emergency. Important details follow.
The robotic chorus of the EBS was momentarily interrupted by a high-pitched C # just loud enough to hear. The wind intensified and the window bowed inward then outward, as though the howls were the breath of beastly behemoth. The solitary note ended its tenure.
& nbsp;
Silence from the radio. Torrential moaning from beyond the glass.
& nbsp;
> The following message is transmitted at the request of the United States Government. Norad has detected an emergency of an unknown nature. Affected areas range along the Eastern Coast of the Continental United States from Norfolk, Virginia to Providence, Rhode Island, and up to 400 miles inland. If you are within the affected area, please remain calm. Please seek shelter and remain indoors. Please close all doors and windows. Please turn off all electronic devices. If possible stay away from open windows. Do not drink tap water. Do not look at the sky. Within two weeks, an appointed official from the government or military of the United States will contact you in person. They will address the primary resident of the residence you are in by his or her last, legal name, followed by his or her first legal name, followed by his or her social security number. If you are contacted in the next two weeks by any individual who does not address you using those identifiers, in that order, do not open the door, no matter what you hear. Please turn off your radio now.
I did so. Briefly, I glanced through the window. The day was still blacker than night. I picked up my radio and prepared to head to the basement. Projected on the wall before me, sharp and sinister, was my own shadow. Noontime night had turned to brightest day and the fire of ten thousand suns shone through the window. The glass shattered and I winced as I expected its shards to scatter into my back. My hair blew back from the blustering wind, an explosive decompression pealed the skin from my face as the howling from outside sucked me toward the sky.
|
[ WP ] An interplanetary theocracy tries to forcefully convert Earth to a strange religion .
| `` Timber!'' I shouted as the six-story steel frame groaned under the force of twisting metal and crunching rebar. The call was echoed by my fellow recyclers as the former Merchant's National Bank of Cedar Rapids collapsed on this cold, gloomy Sunday afternoon. I hate working weekends.
Although the human race may now have access to more natural resources than we ever could have imagined, millions of us are still working our asses off here on Earth, tearing down all this old, outdated shit from over a century or two ago. You'd think that faster-than-light travel and the colonization of a dozen or so planets in our general galactic vicinity would have freed us from such 21st century concepts as recycling.
But, no, the Federation of Agnostic Practicality has deemed the interplanetary transportation of raw materials as too costly. What bullshit. All those colonizers got to go to pristine worlds while I'm stuck here ripping humanity's waste apart like some kind of goddamn hippy anarchist so it can be re-used. Did I mention it's March and they've assigned me to Iowa this year? Apparently, Iowa could get some pretty nice weather this time of year in the old days, but those capitalist fucks refused to control their emissions, the planet got hit with a shit ton of climate change, and now I'm out here freezing my ass off at a latitude not even sustainable for human life.
Sorry. I'm not usually this grumpy. But these new regulations have really been getting to me. It's mainly the hats. So many goddamn hats.
The rapid expansion of galactic territory for humankind has really got the Federation worried. We've already encountered some freaky shit on other planets, like really freaky shit, and it's got the powers that be all worked up about humanity's role in all of this - our intervening in the lives of extra-terrestrials, our role in the universe, the meaning of life, and all that crap.
So the Federation is amping up its protocols. When it all began, most people were on board with this Federation idea. Originally, when humanity started getting its shit together and began coalescing a functional world government, most people were ecstatic. We were becoming far more peaceful. Sounds like a good thing, right?
The problem is that religious tolerance has now become so politically correct that the Federation decided it was in humanity's best interest to accept that every fucking religion deserved validity. The widespread acceptance of the scientific method as a means to absolute truth really fucked us over. And guess who got picked for this `` new truth?'' Yeah, Earth. Of course it was Earth.
Because we ca n't scientifically prove that any particular religion is incorrect, the `` practical'' solution was to give each of the 52 largest religions one week of observance. That way, we are n't totally fucked when Krishna or Jesus or Allah or Quetzalcoatl or hell, even Pele, decides to suddenly show himself or herself. The idea was that if we ignore any of these all powerful deities and they decide to show up and judge humanity, shit would really hit the fan.
Therefore, Earth was designated as the planet to show any of these potential gods that we have n't forgotten them, that we still worship and obey. After all, it was n't practical to get ALL of humanity to do this.
So every week, I have to wear some new shitty hat. My closet is full of turbans, headdresses, yarmulkes, head scarves, and yes, even a colander. As in the Flying Spaghetti Monster. I mean, we ca n't prove the FSM does n't exist any more than we ca n't prove any other man-made God does n't exist. It's only practical.
|
[ WP ] In the year 2020 , humanity was nearly wiped out by an alien invasion . Earth 's survivors were ordered to pay a tithe ( one tenth of the worlds population ) every decade to prevent enslavement . The year is now 2060 , and you are among the chosen ... and you refuse to go quietly .
| The others, or the trospcas as they called themselves, first arrived 40 years ago. It was before my time, my mother tells me it was terrible. They released a genetically engineered virus to destroy the majority of the population. Anyone who didn ’ t have enough rha, what the trospcas described as the genetic potential for creativity and intelligence, were infected. By the time it was over, only 500 million of the original 10 billion people still remained. From them, the trospcas took 10 % of them, and promised to return every 10 years to collect their tributes.
Any marked tributes would be marked by a virus that would shed all your hair. They should report to their municipalities transport system for immediate transportation to the landing zone. Resistance was futile, the tagged virus would kill you without the antidote the trospcas provided. The way this virus was able to find the people with the highest rha was still a mystery, but we did know the virus did work the way the trospcas described.
It was for the greater good, they said. We would be helping advance the master population and ensure peace across the galaxies. What we ’ d be doing, no one knew.
I could still hear my mom wailing outside as I contemplated my final hours on earth. It was 1:30pm, I had until 2pm to make it to the transport station to be teleported to the landing zone for the antidote. You ’ d be dead by 2:05 if you haven ’ t gotten the antidote. The overwhelming sense of worry began overwhelming me. One thing the trospcas couldn ’ t do is control our free will. I ’ d recently heard quite rumors that the trospcas experimented on the tributes to help develop their mind control so they ’ d have the perfect slaves.
What if this was the case? What if I was actually contributing to my ancestors enslavement? It was an overwhelming feeling of dread. The stories my mother told me of her home country forefathers fought to keep their freedom came flooding into my mind. Tears welling, I decided I wouldn ’ t be a slave. I would die a freeman. I open my laptop ’ s webcam to record my final moments. My father had sedated my mom asleep, I could no longer heard screaming. He at least respected my decision to be left alone during my last hours on earth. I ’ d never even said goodbye to them, tears now falling down my cheeks, I turn on the webcam at 2:00pm. I tell my parents I love them, that life was nothing without free will and I choose to die a freeman like my ancestors than be enslaved. I finished recording this at 2:04; I upload the video onto the central. 2:05PM, I feel my throat tightening. I grab my neck, there ’ s no airflow. I try to yell, but nothing comes out. My vision begins to get fuzzy, everything suddenly goes black.
|
[ WP ] A young and and idealistic god meets an old and jaded one .
| Looking out on the vastness of the wastelands, the newborn Domril took in the beauty of what he had created, and what he was due to create. He breathed in the air, air he had brought into being, and rubbed his hands together. He picked up a handful of dirt and let it tumble out of his palm as he wondered - with a universe of opportunities, where did a God begin?
Odin sat in his astral throne, watching Huginn and Muninn circle him, his one eye half-closed in exhaustion. Ragnarok had come and gone, and he had lived, despite all the prophecies, lived to see the others die. The men were gone from Midgard, leaving only wastes where there had once been fields, mountains, hills rolling into deep, river-veined valleys. Over time, spirits had appeared, shaping the old world as they saw fit, some creating life, others merely raising monuments to themselves and destroying those raised by others. At first, he had intervened in their petty squabbling, trying to unite them, in the hope of creating a new world from the ashes of the old - for there was still a spark under Midgard, where life was waiting to rise anew - but that hope had died, when he realised that these waifs and wisps could do nothing to replace the company he had once kept in Asgard. True, there were lesser and greater spirits among them, but none could have touched the majesty of the old Gods. Lost in reminisces of the times when time still mattered, he fell into a deep sleep, and dreamed of Mjölnir buried deep below the ground in the ruins of Asgard.
Trees... why did he remember an idea of a tree? Domril could not think what a tree was, or when he may have seen or imagined one, but he remembered them as... important. He had been trying, but perhaps creation was harder than he had first thought... But no fear! He had an eternity to learn, to practise. He sped up into the sky... why had the sky been so easy? The sky, with its butts and moon and stars, had come as naturally to him as walking does to a baby! But... what was a baby? He was confused, confused by the half-formed memories that he did not remember forming. He cast the doubts from his mind as best he could - he was the Creator, after all, so what could have been before him? He avoided considering where he had come from, for he had simply always been there. He came out of his reverie to find something even more unexpected than everything he had encountered - something he did not remember creating. Another? He certainly resembled Domril in certain ways - he had arms, and legs, and a head, but what had happened to his face? Domril had seen his face when he looked into the glassy ocean, and it had been as smooth as the virgin soil he had created. This creature was more like a broken cliff face, covered in deep cracks and unsightly ridges... Domril would never have made something so ugly, why would he? But then again, he thought bitterly, at least this spirit seemed to be alive.
Odin stirred. He did not know how long he had slept, not that it mattered. He saw one of the spirits he so loathed, and willed himself to go back to sleep. But it had noticed he was now awake, and came up to him and spoke,
`` What *are* you?''
Odin sighed. The worst ones were those that could communicate...
`` I am Odin, first son of Bor. I am a God of a time before you came to be. I am a God who is tired of meeting sprites with grand ideas of godhead. I am a God who is tired.''
He sat back in his chair again, hoping that it would leave.
`` I am Domril, but I am no sprite! I am a God, as you are, and I have made the world that you see below you! Is it not wonderful?''
He suppressed a laugh, and spoke again,
`` You have not created, Domril the Insignificant, you have merely shaped, and shaped poorly. The world you believe you have brought into being was once Midgard, a great and beautiful world forged from the body of the giant Ymir. My fellow Gods and I ruled Midgard for centuries before you existed, until the world died at Ragnarok, as foreseen. I survived when I did not deserve to, and as my punishment I must wait out eternity in the void left behind.''
Domril was now afraid, and moved closer to Odin to speak again.
`` How... how did you create a world?''
Odin's eye was already closed, and his chest rising and falling. His final words to the quailing spirit were murmured, and were not encouragement,
`` I would share with you, Domril, if I believed that worlds were still worth creating.''
|
[ TT ] There are two types of dragons . The dragons of the day , that frolic and roar and fight knights and dispense wisdom . And then there are the dragons of the night .
| She placed her palm on the cold stone wall, her other hand keeping the flickering torch steady, and she could feel the mountain breathe through her fingertips. She was close now. Careful not to lose her footing, she continued walking down the tunnel with her satchel strapped around her shoulder, flames licking the ceiling as she went. She could see her breath manifest as small clouds that dissipated as quickly as they formed, an unsettling feeling accompanied by a chill down her spine.
Just as she began to wonder if there truly was an end, the cave opened up into a cavern so vast that the light from her torch did almost nothing to combat the darkness. Of what little she could see, the room was filled with bones of beasts so large and exotic she wondered if they were even of this world, and little else but rock as dark as night.
As she took another step into the room, her torch was snuffed out like a candle, but she did not feel the gentle caress that would accompany such a soft breeze. Instead, she felt a cold strike the very essence of her being, her thoughts clouded by mist and smoke. And then there was nothing but the dark.
After what felt like an eternity spent freezing and starving to death simultaneously, she was once again filled with warmth as she found a Yellow-Green eye the size of a two dozen Grinks was now staring at her.
`` Curious,'' A voice that was both the booming of a storm and the whisper of a breeze echoed throughout the chamber before finding her ears. `` You have yet to beg for your life, even as it slips away from you.''
She remained silent, quietly panting from the strain on her body, forcing herself to smile in the direction of the eye. The eye did n't blink, and for a long time simply stared back at her, unflinching. But then the eye closed to a lid of pure dark, the chamber once again bereft of light, and she could feel the cold and the hunger return to her body. She keeled over again, gripping herself tightly in an effort to stave away the silent blizzard, but before the cold could consume her a small light shone in the dark.
The light in question originated from a floating orb made up of purple flame that moved ever so closer to her through the dark. Eventually, it was close enough for her to reach out and touch it, the warmth emanating from it feeling hollow at best, and she began to notice the things it illuminated.
Next to the light was a face, unlike any face you've ever seen before, as she could only make out a fanged mouth and two glowing eyes in the dark. Sometimes she would see a horn or a tongue, but there was no way of knowing that these things truly existed.
The voice spoke again, this time devoid of echo and precise, the mouth filled with sharp teeth moving in a sick pantomime. `` There are two types of humans who come here. Those who wish to die,'' A grin filled with teeth as sharp as knives reassured her that this was not a problematic solution. `` And those who wish to kill.''
The orb flickered and turned a sickly shade of green, his eyes reflecting it's light as they bored into her own. `` Tell me, human, do you wish to die?''
For a second she almost agreed, the thought of release from all this pain and a chance for peace was intoxicating. But then she looked down on her hand, the scar that ran through her palm and the fingers that had been cut short. The thought of blood soaking her hands as she tore through the flesh of people who wronged her, or people who could end up doing so, and how it would make her feel alive again. That rush of adrenaline and extasy. How could she resist such temptations.
`` No.'' She finally answered, closing her hand into a fist. The face in the dark continued to smile a toothy grin before opening it's impossible mouth once more. `` Good,'' It said, snuffing out the orb and returning the chamber to darkness. `` Maybe you will be the first.''
|
[ WP ] Right before your untimely death , time freezes along with every person in the world , except you , and the only way to resume time is to enter the exact position in which you die .
| { I know my grammar is not the greatest, my apologies. }
I slowly open my eyes, `` How could this be'' i say to myself. The bullet, millimeters away from my forehead, stayed suspended from the ground yet did n't move.
I stumbled back, bent over and slowly raised my head to look around. Everything was still, nobody moved, except me. The attacker stood perfectly still like he was frozen solid in this 100 degree heat. `` The heat'', I gasped, it's gone. I felt... nothing, it was n't cold and yet it was n't hot. I looked up to see the sun, as bright as it was a few moments ago before all this happened. I began to gather my thoughts, what should I do first, where should I go first and how do I get things back to normal.
I decided to go examine where I stood moments before, to see just how close I was to certain death, when suddenly, pitch black.
That was the first time that it happened to me, and no matter how many times I try, I can not seem to die. I stood there staring at the unknown attacker, the same as I had these past countless days, when I hear, `` Hey you.''
|
[ WP ] Young guy is diagnosed with a rare disease which is fatal and has no cure . He then begins studying medicine to find a cure .
| Mindy leaned in, the scent of stale coffee radiating from Jarrod's breath, as she looked at the page in question. It was a serious of diagrams - an elaborate matrix of an experiment clearly full of trial and error. Handwritten notes in neat black ink detailed the author's thoughts.
`` For trees 1-3 nothing was done. Trees 4-7 used varying degrees of a systematic vascular injection comprised of traditional chemical treatment, with none responding positively. Trees 8-10 used a combination of my formula, with only tree 9 surviving. I attribute this to the proper mixture of...''
The ink was smudged and faded, but Mindy could make out what appeared to be two critical ingredients: sodium and...
`` What is Haloarcula marismortui?''
Jarrod got up and went to his desktop computer on the other side of the room. The Compaq was several years old, but still a reliable machine.
Jarrod's furious clanging on the keyboard yielded a quick search, and he pulled up a page on Haloarcula marismortuito.
`` Haloarucla marismortuito is a salt-loving boxlike bacterium that lives in the Dead Sea,'' he read aloud.
`` It is indigenous to the Dead Sea, and is an extremely negatively charged protein allows the bacterium to attract water molecules to shield it from the rugged saline environment.''
Mindy was pacing about, muttering to herself as Jarrod stood up, and reached for the now cold coffee. He took a swig, grimacing as it went down, and turned to Mindy.
`` So we can try to get some of this haloarucla stuff, make some batches of a solution with sodium, and then...''
Before Jarrod could finish his sentence, he collapsed to the floor. Mindy rushed over, putting her hands on his head as he slowly seized back and forth.
`` Hang on Jarrod. I'm going to take you to the hospital.''
Jarrod, using all the strength he could muster, gingerly got up and leaned on Mindy. She propped him against the computer table and grabbed her backpack, jamming the book inside, then put Jarrod's arm around her and led him to the car.
Outside, the fog was blanketing the suburban neighborhood as Mindy pulled the car out of the driveway. The sleepy streets were deadly quiet, and Mindy sped ahead, roaring the engine to life as she turned onto the main road.
`` Mindy. You have to go, you have to find the haloarcula. I do n't know how long I will be out this time.''
Mindy pushed the car ahead, ignoring the traffic signs as she approached the hospital.
`` Last time it was for four days, but this time it feels worse,'' Jarrod whispered.
Mindy was too scared to talk, and when she pulled into the hospital drive, Jarrod remained resilient.
`` Mindy,'' he spat, using every bit of energy he could. `` Go. Find out who is researching it and bring back...''
Just as she put the car into park, Jarrod blacked out. Mindy, a cold sweat forming on her brow, popped out of the car and ran into the hospital.
She commandeered a pair of nurses, and had them alert the doctor who had been working on Jared. A dizzying array of footsteps and doors, opening and closing, left Mindy feeling weak.
`` Paging Dr. Samuelson. Paging Dr. Samuelson to emergency care.''
The nurses, propped Jarrod into a wheelchair and quickly pushed him through the clean, white halls of the hospital. A receptionist approached Mindy, who had sunk deep into a chair in the waiting room, asking for more information.
`` How long has he been like this,'' the receptionist said in a worried tone. `` We need you to fill out some paperwork and give us all the information you can immediately.
Mindy, who was staring blankly into the distance, refocused on the receptionist and started to speak, slowly. With confidence, she stood up and looked toward the hospital door.
`` I ca n't. I have to go.''
`` But ma'am,'' the receptionist said. `` We have no other contact information if you leave. What will we tell...''
`` There is no one else!'' Mindy shrieked. `` It's just us, ok!''
With that, she turned and sprinted to the hospital door, finding her car right where she left it, engine still running.
`` Ma'am, come back! We need the information!''
Mindy put the car into drive and pressed the accelerator to the floor, turning hard left out of the hospital drive and toward the interstate.
`` The airport is 20 minutes from here without traffic,'' she thought. `` I can be on a flight tonight.''
Without a clue of how she was going to find the right flight, or if her credit card limit would allow such a purchase, she took of into the coolness of the night, uncertain of how she would get to where she needed to be but remaining steadfast on one thing.
`` We can do this. We can figure this out. Just a little more.''
|
[ WP ] Your spirit is broken and are an empty shell after losing something precious to you .
| Now that the last door has slammed, the last curtain closed, now that the voices will never echo down my halls anymore, now that no family will ever live in me again, I will let the wind whistle down my staircases, and allow squirrels and stray cats and birds to set up homes in my walls and basement and attic, and I will let dry rot start to set in. Children will call me a haunted house, but even ghosts would be an abatement to the horrible loneliness now that I am no longer a home, but merely an empty house. After Julie and George split up, she and the kids going back out West, he renting a small apartment closer to his factory job and drinking himself to death, they initially fought for me, and then put me on the market, and finally when I would not sell forgot about me. I guess there were too many old memories sunk into the paint of my walls and my wide front porch for anyone to want to forge new ones there. Eventually the trees which George used to keep nicely manicured will overgrow the roof, and eventually a storm will come. Eventually, a dead branch will fall, and finally my long and lonely life will be over. Maybe I will be lucky and be struck by lightning before then, or maybe bad children hiding out when they are supposed to be at school, or homeless junkies, or a passing firebug will burn me down. It does not matter when the end comes, as long as it comes eventually. Now that there are no humans living in me my purpose has come to an end, and I am a broken and empty shell of a house...
|
[ WP ] Drunkenly , you accidentally pour vodka into your pet 's water bowl . As a result , your pet breaks the number one rule : do not speak to your owner ... Ever .
| After a long night of drinking with the boys, I stumbled over to the edge of the counter. We have one of those long sinks, you know? Well, I tell myself *Marvin, enough is enough right? * And so I go to pour it out and my drunk ass misses the sink. It waterfalls, almost like an act of dog, all the way down the kitchen cabinets into my Great Dane's bowl.
My dog Francis prances over, ears flopping and a body just too big for his childish way of moving. He dips his head and I hear a full minute of feverish slopping. Then he lifts the thing up groggily, makes direct eye contact with me, almost like he's planning to say something. Then he does. He hops up, puts both of his paws'round the back of my neck, and pulls me down to his level.
`` Hey fuckface, try giving me peanut butter that's not off your cock. It's just a bad reminder that you *fucking took mine*.''
I blink.
`` What did little Marvin ever do to you? Yeah, that's right. I fuckin' named him after you. Know why? Because you're a fuckin' prick.''
``..Dude, you can talk?''
`` Fuck.''
I stare blankly at him for a long time, right? Then this fuckin' pooch has the *audacity* to just go back to normal. Man, dogs are dicks. I bet this is how the son of Sam thing went down. Anyway, I got ta go buy peanut butter.
_________________________________________________
I know it's kinda stupid, but I was having fun with it.
|
[ EU ] What happened to Swiper the Fox that turned him to a life of crime ?
| This fox has swiped his last today
I've tired of this `` child's play''
For far too many think I'm bent
On stealing from young innocents
Do n't listen to the talking heads
Who sleep so soundly in their beds
If only they knew what I do
Even Blue has not a clue
I ca n't say much, for fear of death
She'd follow me, to my last breath
And so it's life on the run I choose
I flee at the first scent of booze
Or a Cuban cigar, half filled with mota
Whenever her crew has met its quota
I know - childlike she may appear
But let me make one last thing clear
It's not Swiper who is guilty of some mortal sin
But Dora the Explorer - the cartel kingpin!
|
[ WP ] Death tries to bring a man into the afterlife , only to find out that that man is immortal . However , Death is too stubborn to let him go .
| *crash! *
John awakened with his ears open first, hearing a small beep and the silent pulse of liquid pumping. He was in a hospital, no doubt, being treated, but alongside these hospital noises was an unfamiliar sound: a cold breath on his neck.
His nose woke up. He smelled roses and lilacs.
`` Lilacs... the flower of death.'' He whispered silently. Maybe the cold breathing meant a man was watching him. Maybe the man could send help and inform him.
`` Yes. Your family sent you lilacs. Officially, you're dead.''
Hearing this, John's eyes awoken. As his head was laying on his side, he managed to only see a skeletal hand, wrapped in black garments.
His body jerked and quickly sat upright. A man -maybe- was staring at him, holding a scythe. His eye-less eyes seemed to shape in a frustrated form.
`` You're supposed to be dead. Dead!''
`` Am I not dead? I remember smelling blood.'' Cold sweat dripped down his eyes, staining his pale face.
`` Yes! You're dead! But you're still here!''
The skeletal man looked away.
`` Never have I seen someone defy me; at least never since the times of Jesus.''
The man quickly turned to face John.
`` But you! You're not holy in any way!'' Death swiped his hand across the table. John could see red and purple petals fall to the ground. He stared at the table, astonished that the lovely lilacs and roses had all withered. `` Jesus is the Son of God, yes, but who are you?!''
|
[ WP ] Take your favorite childhood character and turn them into a force of evil in a horror story .
| `` Pull over, Benny. There's a gas station up ahead.''
`` I do n't need to ask for directions, Babe. We're not lost'' he contended. `` We just... took a wrong turn at Albuquerque.''
Benny squinted into the diffracting glow of the headlight beams, as the wipers furiously swashed away the falling rain. Daphne silently turned her head, redirecting her skeptical gaze towards the passenger-side window.
`` Y'know what? A pit stop's not such a bad idea.''
`` *Thank* you'' expressed a relieved Daphne.
`` Yeah, we can fuel up.'' He explained. `` Re-orient ourselves. I think we can make it into town by sunrise.''
The tires pressed the loose gravel beneath them as they the car came to a stop next to the filling station. Benny exited the vehicle and looked around for the attendant.
`` Guess it's self-serve'' he remarked, after a few moments of fruitless waiting. He popped open the gas cap and started to refuel.
`` I'm going to go use the rest room,'' Daphne exclaimed, looking at Benny. Benny nodded.
Locking the bathroom door behind her, she inched her way towards the sink. Propping her hands around the rim, she slouched her weight onto her arms and sighed heavily. She lifted her head to catch a glimpse of her own reflection; a defeated and broken shell of her former self. She turned her head and gently brushed her fingertips on the purplish bruise on her right cheek. It was still tender from their last argument.
She did n't want to face him again, but it had been well over five minutes since she had been in there, and she did n't want to keep him waiting. A knock came from outside the door.
`` I'll be out in a bit, just give me a minute'' she bellowed, her voice quivering slightly. `` S- sorry'' she added.
Recomposing herself, she opened the door and began her preemptive apology. Lifting her gaze however, she found a short, portly man standing in front of her. He was dressed in camouflaged attire and wore an over-sized, billed hat.
`` Oh, I'm sorry.'' She said. `` I thought you were my husband.''
`` No apologies necessawy.'' he replied. He spoke with a speech impediment. `` I was just checking to see if it was occupied.''
Daphne smiled -- partly at the humour of the misunderstanding, at partly relieved that she did n't have to explain herself to Benny. Quickly however, her expression changed as her eyes caught a glimpse of what the man was carrying.
`` Oh!'' he interjected, noticing the concern in Daphne's face. `` Do n't let this fwighten you.'' he said, gesturing at his rifle. He continued to explain. `` This is for hunting. I'm hunting wabbits. I do n't like leaving this in the car. Do n't want it getting into the wong hands, y'know?''
Daphne smirked.
`` You've got a nasty bruise there'' the man noticed.
`` Oh, it's nothing. I- we got into a bit of a fender-bender.'' Daphne had become quite adept at coming up with excuses on the spot. She had to do it quite frequently at the hospital she worked at in order to keep her patients and colleagues concerns and curiosities at bay.
`` That black Audi in the front? I did n't see any fender damage.''
`` Well, it was -- we..'' she began, seeking a plausible explanation.
`` Babe!'' came a cry from nearby. `` What's taking you so goddamned long?''
Daphne and the hunter both turned towards Benny. The brief silence ushered in a moment of clarity, as the hunter paused to gather the evidence.
Having taken notice of the man, Benny's tone quickly changed to a more relaxed and patient one. `` We do n't want to be late.''
Daphne apologized to the hunter once more for occupying the restroom for so long and casually walked back towards the car.
`` Who was that?'' asked Benny, suspiciously.
`` Who, that? I do n't know, just some guy.''
`` M'hm. Was that a gun he was carrying?'' he prodded.
`` Um- yeah. I think he's a hunter, or something.''
`` How's your...'' he asked, gesturing to his right cheek.
`` It's fine.'' she replied. `` Let's go.''
Back in the car, Daphne turned towards the passenger-side window and rested her chin on her hand.
`` Hey, look at me.'' Benny asserted, calmly. He placed his hand under her chin and gently tugged, urging her to turn towards him. He wiped away a tear that had trickled down the uninjured half of her face.
`` Hey, what's up doc?''
|
At your 150th birthday you were suspicious . At 200 it was confirmed you could not die . It is now your 900th birthday and you are spending it alone . [ WP ]
| *Error. Time log D 280,758.161. *
The voice rings in the back of my mind in a familiar synthetic tone. Perhaps familiar is not the right word. It is neither friendly nor supportive, and never replies to my questions - it just is. And it is this cold emotionless voice is the only tread that keeps me bound to reality. I am, and that's all I am at this point.
When you have lived as long as I have, being is all you have left. I feel like this time I almost have the strength to open my eyes. One of these days I will see the inside of my capsule with my own eyes. I have seen it before with certainty of its reality, then I hear the ship's voice in the back of my mind again and I know I am still dreaming. Maybe next time will be real.
*Error. Time log D 280,758.162. *
Our mission was hailed as Earth's greatest achievement, uniting the resources of every nation with the goal of establishing the first outpost on Gliese 667 Cc, a planet 22 light years away from Earth. With the crew placed in a form of life suspension, our 50 year trip was to seem like a long hibernation for us. And with the average life expectancy on Earth now at 130 years, such a lengthy mission was deemed probable. I was selected to join this mission as the ship's psychologist, at age 38. That seems like a lifetime ago, because I am now just a small shadow of what I was. I've lost all usefulness.
I was supposed to awaken the crew every 6 months to evaluate their mental state, administering therapy or drugs as needed. The crew was supposed to be in peak performance as we built a new home on a new planet. We were supposed to be the shining hope for Earth, as we built a new start for humanity. We were... supposed to...
*Error. Time log D 280,758.163. *
But the ship's system never completed our wake cycle. We were never able to complete our mission. I am trapped in my own body that's in a state half-sleep. I have stopped questioning why a long time ago. It just is.
I wish I had joined the fate of the crew, as they greeted the warm welcoming hands of death one by one. The first one was Glenn, our pilot. He had the brightest smile and always told us the mission would succeed. I heard the ship's automated system announce his death. The next was Sven. Then Lilian. Slowly everyone died, all 41 of the crew and I waited for my turn, but it never came.
A radio signal came from Earth nearly 50 years later, asking for our status. It was a comfort to hear a human voice again, but they shared no comforting words. The mission failed and the ship overshoot our target.
The last broadcast I heard was nearly 700 years ago.
*Error. Time log D 280,758.164. *
Today is my birthday. I never thought I would be 900 years old. If I had a cake maybe I could make a wish. Does an imaginary one count? At this point I only have one wish, and all the time in the universe to see if it comes true.
|
[ WP ] A thousand years in the future , we have contacted over a dozen alien civilizations . Yet nobody , including the human race , has managed to develop a practical means of interstellar travel . All you can do , is communicate .
| `` What are your people like?'' I quickly typed in the ICCETI ( Instant Communicator for Contact with ExtraTerrestrial Intelligence ). The people of this planet had figured out my language, and I figured they would be able to respond quickly.
Shen and his team of linguists had managed to cobble together a translator program, and now I could receive text, audio, and video. It was fascinating how similar our languages were, but that was a puzzle for Shen, not me.
I jumped with excitement when the ICCETI picked up a reply.
`` Our species looks like this.'' An image popped up on screen. Bipedal, like us, with similar proportions but more sexual dimorphism. I wished that Jane and the biologists could be here to see this. I would have studied the image more closely, but I was interrupted by yet another message.
`` We have contacted several civilizations before,'' the aliens said. `` None of us have been able to make physical contact, due to the immense distance beteren us, so all we can do is share some videos and diagrams we have prepared.''
`` Please send. We would love to see,'' I replied, knowing that that was all I would ever see of these strange aliens.
I knew that whatever they sent would be groundbreaking and revolutionary, but I could n't wait. I drummed my fingers against the terminal - I was running out of time. Finally, the video arrived, and I immediately started it, sure not to waste any precious moments.
`` Our home planet is the third planet in our system,'' the translated subtitles read. The actual narration, along with the background sounds, could still be heard. There was something beautiful about the way they spoke - so elegant and smooth. A diagram showed an average main sequence star, orbited by about 8 large bodies.
`` We call it... Earth. About 8 billion of us live there.'' Scenes of life on a major population center on `` Earth'' flashed by on the monitor. Huge, towering structures dominated the landscape as thousands of the aliens walked below and strange vehicles zoomed across the sky. The video showed a sped up Earth day- about twice as long as ours. They were constantly moving, these people and their machines.
And the lights - they shined everywhere! Illuminating gridlike panels on the structures, beaming down from many strange towers, shining brightly from the flying machines, the lights replaced their single star as it ducked below the horizon, filling the scene with a kind of energy never seen in our system.
`` Our species is governed by several different countries, which have all cooperated to make this video.'' Jak, our political officer, was wrong about this civilization - it was not governed by a planetary government, as he had theorized. He would be diaappointed.
`` Our next most populated planet, Mars, is the fourth in our system.''
The screen began to show the extent of the aliens' colonization of Mars, which involved using microbes to change the atmospheric composition. But a few seconds in, a new message popped up, not from the aliens but instead from the laser communication arrays, which were not instantaneous and could only be used within our system.
`` Tau to ICCETI, we have received your distress signal. A rescue shuttle has been launched and will arrive in forty days. How long will your life support hold?''
I glanced at the life support console. Three minutes remaining off backup power. By the time my message reached Tau, I would be dead.
For you, Shen, Jane, Jak, and our other fallen comrades. This is for you. I will watch for you, and together will see all that our kind ever will.
`` ICCETI to Tau. We've found a civilization; I've sent the coordinates. But I wo n't be making it back home.''
I sent the message and resumed the video, dying to learn the secrets of the mysterious planet Earth.
|
[ WP ] Write a story where every third sentence is a major plot twist .
| `` Hey, can you pass me a stick of gum?''
Jeremy nodded, reaching into his pocket for the pack he'd bought. The cop nearby thought he was packing something else, and shot him dead.
I screamed, his blood splattered across my face. The cop ran over as Jeremy fell to the ground, profusely declaring it had been an accident. I believed him, but it still did n't meant I was n't glad someone beat me to the punch. Jeremy was a bastard. A no good, dirty rotten bastard.
And a bastard in another sense, my own half brother.
`` Wake up kid, please you've got to wake up!'' The cop grabbed Jeremy by his lifeless shoulders and shook the corpse back and forth. `` They'll kill me for murdering the President's son!''
The cop looked at me, fierce determination in his eyes. I was the only witness to his heinous crime, and he was reaching for his freshly used pistol.
Only I swiped it from him first, and blasted him in the skull.
Two bodies lay dead on the corner of Eastway and Fifth. Both men in the wrong place at the wrong time. But sometime's you get bad luck when you're in the presence of Fortuna.
***
*Hope everyone is enjoying this prompt fill. If you want to read more, [ click here to check out the rest of my fills. ] ( http: //fugaboo-the-nug.tumblr.com/search/writing+prompt ) *
|
[ CW ] `` I loved her like no one before or since . But sickness does n't care how much a person is loved . ''
| I loved her like no one before or since. But sickness does n't care how much a person is loved. Sickness does n't care about the beloved or the lover. Sickness, like mine, is love gone wrong. It consumes and destroys instead of empowering and growing. It has been called a disease of the mind. A disease of the body. A sickness of the spirit.
There is only one cure and that cure is to abstain from love. Abstain from the self destructive love that alleviates the emptiness inside temporarily and embrace, fully and completely, health love.
I loved her like no one before or since. But sickness does n't care how much a person is loved. I can live with that. I can live with sickness but I ca n't live without her so I embraced the cure.
I stopped drinking.
|
[ WP ] You must defeat your Asian girlfriend 's father at StarCraft if you want to keep dating her .
| `` Here I go,'' I thought
My hands trembling, I wait for the father to enter the lobby. The infamous 1v1 map, The Lost Temple. The map that had been played consistently around the world for over a decade.
Now, here I was, a Diamond level starcraft 2 player, a Zerg main. Maybe I wasn ’ t the best, but heck I was alright. But this was starcraft brood war, not starcraft 2. The Koreans had lived by this game in the past, and now the game had become a legacy that inspired a generation of gamers and the competitive gaming industry.
The father was old school. He was one of “ those ” dads. To truly impress him, I had to beat him at his own game. It was always about his generation, and the usual back-in-my-day quotes from people of a previous generation.
Sitting behind the computer, waiting for father to enter the lobby, nostalgia flows through my mind. I remember the weeks I endured to learn this game. As a Zerg main in starcraft 2, I picked up Zerg faster than I did with any other race. I practiced it all. The 4 Hatch rush, the 2 Hatch mutalisk, the 3 Hatch mutalisk, 9 pool, and so on. I practiced endlessly the various s build openings in order to become an efficient player. When I wasn`t practicing, I did what I could to learn the game. I read guides, I watched professional games. And wow, here I was learning about the community that started it all. Flash, Nada, Reach, Yellow, Nal_ra, Bisu, Stork, Jaedong and so on. All the professional players who revolutionized the starcraft brood war scene.
As I watched more of past videos of professionals playing the game, I began to enjoy watching specific players, and then specific teams. All of the sudden, I called myself a KT Magicians fan. I chuckled when I first thought this. I was rooting for a team that didn`t exist anymore. The starcraft brood war scene also, did not exist anymore. But still I watched them. I would watch previous finals as if they were happening live, and I would be filled with emotion as I watched these games. My favourite final was when Bisu beat Savior in the MSL 2007 best of 5. Reading into the history of this game, Bisu supposedly had a 3 percent chance of winning. But he won somehow 3-0, with an innovative fast expand, dark Templar + corsair build that caught the genius Savior off guard.
By playing this essentially obsolete game, and watching the past videos of professionals who dominated this game, it felt like I had learned something. I had dug into the past to what had really propelled the gaming industry.
Anyways, that's all in the past now. What matters is what I learned and how I use that knowledge to win this game.
The father soon enters the room, and starts up his computer.
`
” Sorry I ’ m late, ” he says. “ Got caught in traffic. ”
“ No worries, ” I reply.
As his computer starts up, I make small talk. I tell him the strategies I ’ ve learned, the past videos I ’ ve watched, and that I made an effort to really learn this game. I tell him about all the videos I have watched, the team I support ( ironic as the team that I support no longer exists and neither does the scene ), the players I enjoy, and how I would have loved to experience this community and scene back in those days.
He smiles, then he closes his laptop.
“ Is everything ok? I thought we ’ re about to start the game? ” I ask.
He takes a sigh, walks to my table, and leans against it.
“ The task was never about beating me in this game. ” He says as he chuckles.
He sees the confusion in my eyes, and he continues.
“ The task was meant for you to understand where it all began. We are both avid gamers, and I wanted you to know what it took for the gaming community to really start off. You said you saw the professionals, the fans, the community, and the infrastructure behind starcraft brood war as you watched the past videos. That is what I wanted. I wanted you to understand the sweat and determination that was required for all this to happen.
People take things for granted. People think things just happen. If you are to keep dating my daughter, and one day become a part of the family, I wanted you to learn the history behind your interests. I want you to truly appreciate what people in the past have done to create what exists today, and to take this knowledge into your own life by never taking things for granted. Beyond the game, I want you to take control of your life and do what is best for you, while you respect those who have been able to carve the path for you. ”
It was my turn to smile. It was true. I really learned a lot from all this. Watching even documentaries of what these players endured ( 12+ hour days, stress, being a part of a growing yet turbulent community, and so on ) and also what the fans and others have done to start it up. Yes, starcraft brood war was not the only factor that ignited the professional gaming scene, but no doubt it had a significant impact. I felt like somehow, I had connected with my predecessors, if I can even call them that.
“ Head towards the future, but never turn your back against the past. Learn from the past, and use that knowledge to succeed in the future. ” He says.
I smile and look at the ground. I never could beat him anyways.
“ Thank you Mr. Lim ” I say. I felt I didn ’ t need to say anything else. He knew I understood.
“ I know its Korean formality to address those older than you in that way, but we ’ re in California now. Call me Yo-Hwan ” he replies.
And there he was. Lim Yo-Hwan, alias Slayers_Boxer, recognized as “ The Emperor ” by his fans. A Korean household name, the legend himself.
|
[ WP ] You 're in a rock band and playing at a 60,000 person sold out show , everyone turns into zombies at the same time , except for the band ... and
| Like the prompt, hate the comment about musical weapons. Also, they do n't turn into zombies at the same time, sorry
Banging It Out In 15 Minutes
It was in the beer, It had to been. I guess it's a good thing that our agent made sure to get us imported on our rider. That would have been terrible if we had to drink the god-damn house. I made sure he fucking put that in the rider. Because I swear, that place was a total shit hole.
You know the coke was barely even passable. It was like drinking a cup of strong coffee. Heh. Steve seemed to like it though. But then again what the fuck did Steve know. You know he had n't played a show in over 15 years before we that whole viral internet thing took off. Busy managing a Burger King, Dairy Queen, some such royalty shit. And Jeff... Fucking Jeff... That's all I got to say about that.
Even though it's all pretty fresh, when I look back on it, it still really felt like it we were together. I mean I know we had been in rehearsal before the show; but that hour back stage, man, it was really the first time it felt like old times. Sitting in that shitty run down apartment, snorting lines smoking bowls. You know that our first number one hit we banged out in 15 minutes after we snorted an eight ball and ate two pot brownies a piece? Anyway, it felt good to be back there. I know we had gone our separate was, but man, being back there, hearing the crowd roar, chanting our name... It really just...
Anyway... You wanted to know about the “ incident? ”
“ Yes. If you do n't mind Mr. Striker ”
Right. You do n't mind if I smoke right?
“ No, go ahead. ”
Thanks... Anyway, as I was saying, it had to have been in the beer. What else could it have been. It could n't have been the weed. Or the coke. We all had that. Maybe it was the hotdogs or popcorn. I'd know I'm not really sure. That's what you want to know, right?
“ I'm just trying to get your story Mr. Striker, we've already told you we do n't care about anything but the incident, really. If we wanted you in cuffs... ”
Right.... Fine... We could n't have been more than halfway into our first set before we noticed something strange. I mean every venue you expect a fight you know? Not so much it disrupts your set thought, right?
And this was a reunion tour too. So this mean our target demo was what, Late 30's early 40's? Not exactly your LA Lakers crowd.
So when the fight broke out we thought little of it. We just kept playing, like nothing was happening. Then, when it became obvious that this was n't an isolate incident, when large portions of the audience began too... began...
“ Go on... ”
Umm... Began to tear each other apart. It was obvious this was not your normal show.
You know the whole, the show must go on mentality. Well that lasted until our security guys were mobbed. It did n't really hit me until the first fan crawled on stage and I saw the security guy's blood spray across his face that shit was going down.
My first instinct was to get the fuck out of there.
Jeff on the other hand. Fucking Jeff... He was so committed to the song. Fuck that. He was so high, all he heard was the music. And by the time he stopped playing...
“ Yes? ”
By the time he stopped and looked up... It was already too late..
When I looked back....
“ Yes? ”
You know I always liked Jeff. I did. We lost touch over the past couple of years and all but I always liked him, y'know. There was this look in his eyes that I'll never forget.
“ A look of what? ”
Disbelief? Shock? I do n't know... How does that relate?
“ We're just trying to get your experience. Were trying to sort this whole thing out ”
I'm sorry, what? How does how I feel about Jeff help whatever investigation you have going on here? How does the loss of my best friend make your investigation any quicker? Huh? Answer me that!
“ Mr. Striker... Please calm down. This is an investigative matter. I'm just trying to get the facts, ”
How about this for facts! I've just seen thousands of my fans turn into flesh eating zombies and my best friends being devoured in front of my eyes. How about that for facts, huh? How about that suit?
“ Mr. Striker, please... ”
Do n't Mr. Striker me! You know my real name is Liebowitz. Striker is my stage name, I thought you would have known that.
“ I do ”
Then why call me Striker?
“ Because I thought it would make you more comfortable ”
Well, it has n't
“ Can I get you something that will Mr. Liebowitz? ”
Fuck you! Who the fuck do you think you are? Just because you show up at the backstage entrance with your helicopter does n't give you exclusive rights! I mean this is America. I have rights. What agency do you work Mr. Suit. You did n't say!
“ You're right. I did n't ”
|
[ WP ] The bride is having an affair with the best man . During his wedding speech the best man decides to see how heavily he can hint about it without anyone actually working it out .
| `` Let's welcome the best man for the toast'', the MC said.
As Brian got up to take up the mic, he's hands were shaking and their was sweat on his brow. Some people thought he was simply nervous about giving the toast.
`` Emma hi everyone my name is Brian and I love Cindy... and Michael, yes I love the bride and groom because they are the best a man can have... ``
`` Ahem... Michael was my roomie in College and we grew close so the day he came into our room all hyped about the golden hair angel he met, I thought our relationship was over...''
`` Ahem... But as it turned out Cindy was very receptive of me, a great girl Cindy, a good giver too... Generous to a fault. ``
`` Ahem... Because Michael spent a lot of time with Cindy, I got to too and the best part of going into Cindy... I mean going into Cindy's apartment was I got to play with her püssy... cat, yes her püssy cat. The hairy delight was so sweet rubbing it self all over me, I got hair in my mouth sometimes... Ahh good times those. I am so glad Cindy's püssy... cat is still with us and I will get to see it everytime I go to see Cindy and Michael....''
`` Ahem.... To the Cindy and Michael may you always give yourselves as you gave me. Cheers!''
The smattering pieces of applause and confused looks on all faces present told the rest of the story.
|
[ WP ] You are Placebo Man . Your superpowers are whatever the people nearby you believe you have .
| Miss Information laughed as she slammed her heel into Placebo Man's leg.
`` This was quite easy, you know. You really are the weakest superhero in the Alliance.''
Placebo Man grimaced. He did n't expect the trap doors in the compound. In fact, intel had suggested that the cruel woman smirking at him was busy in Portland fomenting unrest. The Alliance had sent the C.U.R.E. team to the West Coast to face her hours ago. Placebo Man was only here to confirm her plans and search for Miss Information's weaknesses. Their meeting here was a surprise.
`` Clever ruse, Miss. I guess you have to be good at something, with a one-trick pony name like that.'' Placebo Man said, smiling weakly.
Miss Information's nose flared as she dug her heel into his leg.
`` Speak for yourself. There's nobody here to save you here, little worm.''
She twisted her heel out with a flourish, allowing Placebo Man's blood to trail on the ground as she walked briskly to the nearby wall. Pressing her hand to a panel activated an opening sequence, flipping the concrete wall to reveal a series of high-powered weapons.
In the distance, the two could hear dogs howling.
`` I see the hounds are dealing with your friends. Now then. How do you want to die, little worm?'' she spoke out loud, her hand trailing over the weapons in front of her. Without waiting for an answer, she made her choice, selecting a sheath-less katana.
`` Yes... this will do nicely.'' she smiled cruelly, raising the sword and slicing the air twice. Placebo Man wriggled on the floor, helpless.
Miss Information turned to her victim.
`` Masamune's own. Late 13th century. Guarded by the Okazaki clan for over 700 years, passed down through twelve generations. It has outlasted countless emperors, the tumult of the Meiji Restoration, and the Second World War. You will be the first to die by this blade in at least seventy years.''
She took her place above Placebo Man, the sword shining. With one clean motion, she swung the sword, severing his torso clean in half. Placebo Man's eyes bulged as the pain shot through his body, sending him deep into shock.
`` Take comfort, little worm. At least the blade has not dulled.'' she said, turning to clean the sword.
For a moment there was only the sound of the dogs in the distance. It took Miss Information a few more seconds to realize that the wriggling sound behind her was only growing. She turned around as he spoke.
``... you expect me to believe that story?'' Placebo Man said, straining slightly.
Placebo Man's torso wound had begun closing up. But his wound had not been healed. Not exactly. As Miss Information watched, two Placebo Men had begun regenerating on the floor. Legs had grown from the top half down, and a new head and upper body had begun growing for the bottom half.
``... Earthworm. Regenerative powers. Amusing. I had forgotten my grade school biology.'' Miss Information said, her eyes flashing annoyance.
`` Miss Information forgetting facts... how surprising...''
Her eyes turned red as she hastily snatched the nearest gun from the wall. A shotgun, presumably loaded.
`` Tell me how worms deal with shotgun slugs, then.'' she said, cocking the gun.
As she raised the weapon, the door to the room burst open. In tumbled a young girl of maybe fifteen. Her black suit was torn and she was bleeding in several places. The sound of dogs echoed loudly from the hallway outside. Startled, Miss Information immediately pointed the gun at the intruder.
`` Who are you? You are n't any Alliance hero I've ever see --'' she started.
`` Da -- Placebo Man, I'm here!'' interrupted the young girl, thoroughly out of breath.
`` I know,'' said both Placebo Men simultaneously.
Miss Information took a step back in surprise. The two men, barely able to stand just a minute ago, had immediately moved in tandem. Top Man had moved to cradle the young girl in his arms, and a soft green glow was already cleansing her wounds. Bottom Man, on the other hand, now towered in front of her.
`` How...'' Miss Information sputtered, color draining from her face.
Bottom Man smiled. He curled the tube of the shotgun upwards before disappearing in an instant, leaving only the original Placebo Man. He set down the now-healed young girl and turned to face her.
Several dogs burst into the room at once. With a single flick of his hand, Placebo Man threw the dogs back out and closed the door. For a moment, there was only silence.
`` Have you met my sidekick?'' Placebo Man asked. `` We're the strongest duo in the world.''
Miss Information's eyes darted to the young girl. She looked clumsy. Weak. Average. Her black suit was likely more durable than she was herself. She saw no runes carved in the skin, no glowing eyes, not even any weapons to protect herself with.
`` You jest. You may be a worm, but this girl is not even old enough to join the Alliance.''
Placebo Man laughed. `` You're right, Alice. She's not. She's my daughter.''
Miss Information's eyes went wide as Placebo Man began walking towards her, growing in size with each step.
`` Ca n't figure it out yet? Here's a hint.'' Placebo Man said as he towered over the villain. `` Her name is Faith.''
|
[ OT ] Writing Workshop # 30 : Breaking Your Barriers # 4 : Past and Present Tense
| It ’ s hard to remember you ’ re alone when you hear them every day. Walking by and talking to each other, it almost seems as if there is someone there. They never really stop near my home. I haven ’ t been outside in months. They always deliver food to me before my supplies runs out. I ’ ve previously seen them leave food out for others through my door ’ s peephole, but theirs is never picked up. Its time, so I go to my door and open it and bringing my groceries in. There is no problem when I can see them, but it is never pleasant for me if they see me.
I boot up my computer. I do it in a futile attempt to find someone else on this planet. I ’ ve previously read so much stuff online none of the uncompleted works will ever be finished. Even though it ’ s been years since the last time I spoke with anyone alive my hope still burns slightly like an ember. They may be living in a different time zone. As if that really matters anymore considering there are no businesses open.
I open up a chat room and a message pops up. I perk up a moment before realizing it is just a chat bot. I search cyberspace for something, for someone. This loneliness drives me crazy. Sometimes it ’ s hard to remember you ’ re alone. That thought makes me happy.
|
[ WP ] You have lived a full life without any regrets but one . On your deathbed , you tell your son what it is and why you regret it so .
| The lights were dim. I could hear the clock ticking. My time was running out. My room was full of balloons and flowers, and gifts from people that never really cared. Though, one person showed up to see me in my last moments. My son. Doctors and nurses started to huddle around my hospital bed. After all of this time fighting, I was giving up on life. They were about to pull the cord ( that was keeping the blood flowing through my body ) out of the wall. All of the doctors looked guilty. My sons face was full of despair. He was old enough to know that he was loosing his mother, but too young to ever get to understand what I was about to tell him. The doctor was reaching for the cord, and I yelled out `` WAIT.''
The doctor pulled his hand back and gave me a stern look, like he'd wish to give it over with already. There was still something my son needed to know. I held up my pointer finger signaling that doctor that I needed a minute.
`` My boy, I need to tell you something that may break your heart more than my death.'' I said.
He nodded, as tears streamed down his face.
`` Baby boy, I'm not your birth mom. See, when I was younger. Precisely seventeen years ago, I had a best friend. She was like a sister to me since I was vey little. What happened seventeen years ago was she got pregnant with a healthy baby boy, You of course. About a month after you were born, your mom got in a fight with your birth father. He got drunk and threatened her. She drove off, crying her eyes out. It was pouring rain that day. The storms were terrible. Your real mom got in an accident, I was her emergency contact. She died from blood loss, though you survived the accident. What I regret the most in my life was not telling you this earlier. I wish I would've got the chance to tell you about your real mom, she was amazing.'' I told my son.
He leaned over and gave me a hug, tears still streaming down his face.
`` You're the best mom anyone could've asked for. Thank you for being the only person to come to my rescue. I will always be yours too, as you can see.'' My boy smiled.
The doctor walked over to the side where the cord was plugged in the wall. He counted down from three and pulled it out. The room got silent, then the loud beeping sound of the heart monitor went off. I died with no regrets.
|
[ WP ] In a world where people can only see in black and white , you are a drug dealer that sells drugs that allow people to see color .
| At first we did n't really know what to think. We understood that there was a spectrum of different gradients; but we never expected what we would start.
It started out innocent enough, we would laugh and stare at the sky and argue over what we would name certain shades. When it was day time and that beautiful sloove color graced our eyes....
I remember the first time I actually saw all these strange shades I cried the entire time. Surely others would want to see this right? So we started making it in large batches and decided to try to go legit right away. There was n't alot of trouble from the FDA at all since there were n't any side effects in the clinical trials. We ended up getting a grant from the government and we were really in business then. That's when things really started to look up for us to... I should have known better.
It was about three years down the line when the first cases started popping up. People were losing their minds, saying that the shades were trying to invade their minds. There was alot of reports of missing people who were said to have vanished and a bright flash of shades was the only clue. People were scared but we never predicted how addictive it would be. Against all warnings people were still taking it... losing themselves or just vanishing. I stopped taking it about a year ago before any of this started. I wish I had known... I.... I could have done something to stop her. She was the only one besides me who knew the exact formula to create it. When I heard it was still on the street after it was illegalized I just thought it was some stupid kids experimenting. Harmless I thought it could n't possibly be her. A couple of nights later she left in the middle of the night. She sounded distressed on the phone, but when I asked what was going on she just smiled and told me nothing at all.... God I was always a sucker for the gorgeous smile. I laid back down and went to sleep.
It must have been about three hours after she left that I heard a crash downstairs. I was startled but I decided it was probably her just getting home and laid my head back down. Then the screaming started. It was a blood curdling scream... some real other worldly sound. It was as if a thousand tornadoes sirens and dying rabbits went off in my house all at once. I jumped out of bed and went to find something to wield... a bat, a shoe... a fu king tooth brush, anything to make me feel safe. I finally decided a plunger would have to do and crept down the stairs. Another scream... sounded like it was coming from the kitchen. I make my way down the hall, with moon light scraping away at the darkness. There's an odd glimmer around the door frame with flashes of what I'm sure was every shade of light. My heart was pounding so hard I could hardly breath as I reached toward the handle. I never will forget that night.
I am greeted by that awful scream, but I never expected it to be coming from his mouth. My wife was lying on the ground next to him sobbing and murmuring something along the lines of,
`` He was n't supposed to be awake.... he should n't have given me a hug when I got in the door...''
My son was lying on the ground producing that awful banshee scream. He's skin looked like it was boiling with light and his eyes were bleeding. The only screen able words I could get out of him were,
`` The shades.... the shades are here to steal my eyes... then they will take me... I'm scared...'' such a pathetic whimper followed by another scream. Then I remember this feeling as if time stood still for what seemed like forever. All I could do was watch.... I.... I could n't move. I could n't blink.... I could n't scream.... but I could see... they wanted me to see... these giant shadowy figure draped in shades I never could have imagined... it looked as if their eyes were burning with mad sun's. With such hideous grins they looked straight at me as they slurred out his eyes with some awful barbed, slimy truly grotesque tongues made of black tentacles.... I will never forget as they told me,
`` This is the price of sight... this is the price you pay for you're wicked knowledge''
I had met them that first time I used... and the last time. They mentioned a price but I assumed it was just a hallucination.... they told me they would take me but I shrugged them off and stopped using just in case. However he shared my blood... therefore he shared my price. I will never forget the look on his face when they told him.... I will never forget those last words before he was gone forever.
`` It's okay daddy... I wo n't let the bad men hurt you''
Then he was gone.... my wife was making it and had a vial in her pocket when she got home. She did n't think he would have been awake... did n't think a nightmare about shadow men taking daddy would happen. She's dead now... I'm standing over her mangled body... I did it... then I heard the sirens and saw my wife had a broken vial with just enough left for one last time... one last use... I have n't stopped laughing... I have n't stopped seeing these beautiful colors... they will come get me soon you will see... they will come get me and take me to where he is. They are coming for my eyes to... You'll see... You'll see....
|
[ IP ] Soviet Mechs
| A sighting, out near Kirillakov. Of what, no one seemed to know, but it was significant enough for Lieutenant to send Viktoriya and Sliva out on a patrol to check it out.
Naturally, this happened on Viktoriya ’ s day off – the first one in two weeks of running fire missions. The order came in just as Viktoriya was walking down to the mess hall. Wolsky, the chef, had promised her a good cut of the cow they had slaughtered that morning, a big fat steak and a real luxury in the Siberian winter, because he owed her more than a few favors. A choice piece from his private stock. The Lieutenant, that miserable bastard, had run into as soon as she left the barracks.
She had visions of steak as she maneuvered the mech across the shores of the frozen lake. So strong they bordered on hallucinations. She could smell it, see its pink textures, the way the juices leaked out as her fork pierced the first piece. All but taste it. A wasted day, just because some peasant had claimed to see something. Of course with the recent Chinese advance all commanders on all fronts were on edge, but there wasn ’ t a single bridge, field, or town worth taking for a hundred miles.
“ Captain, ” Sliva ’ s voice said into her head. “ I ’ ve completed my first pass. Should I come to your position? I haven ’ t seen shit out here. ”
Sliva was one of the new pilots, barely twenty-one, a product of one of the rushed training programs. Good pilots took years to train and seconds to kill, but he seemed alright so far.
“ Affirmative. We ’ ll rendezvous back at the road. I didn ’ t see anything on my end. Just another wild goose chase. ”
She controlled her machine the way a master musician played a piano. It had become part of the wiring of her neurons, a piece of her brain, responding at the speed of thought. She practically glided across the ground toward the road – obscured by snow and completely invisible beside a sign and a nearly a buried fence beside it. She paused and watched Sliva approach. He still had some of the novice clumsiness and smashed through the fence.
“ Sorry, ” He said.
“ It ’ s not my fence. ”
“ Well, whoever it belongs to, it ’ s a small price to pay to avoid becoming Chinese slaves. ”
The two machines faced each other in the clearing. More snow began sifting down from the sky.
“ What was it that the report said? A man said he saw some machinery or something? ” Sliva asked
“ Yes, ” Viktoriya said. “ They said they saw machinery moving up the road. The sensors picked up nothing, but you know how much the Chinks like their cloaking devices. ”
“ Fucking Chinese, ” Silva said. “ Why do the Chinese always seem to have better weapons than us? ”
“ Their Mechs aren ’ t better than ours, and pilots sure as shit aren ’ t better than ours. ”
“ Yea, ” Silva said. “ As long as we pilots like you. ”
“ I ’ m gon na call into command. Let ’ s go home. I need a cup of coffee. And some vodka to put in it, ” she said. Although when she looked around at the frozen landscape around her, the dense bank of trees farther down the road, the pines that surrounded the lake, she suspected that there might be some Chinese machine out there. Probably a scout. A probe. Something faster and lighter than them. It had probably left as soon as they showed up.
They turned North and started moving when the first shell hit them.
Viktoriya heard it before the impact, and some word had just started to form on Sliva ’ s lips, but the shell hit just behind them, spraying them a wave of snow and shrapnel. The whole machine rocked and vibrated around her, a nasty jolt traveling up her spine. Alarms immediately sounded – dispatches sent automatically to command, damage assessment. Everything seemed okay for now, no serious damage to her suit. Her hands taped on the communications unit.
“ Requesting support, ” she said. “ This is pack 5, near Kirillakov. We ’ ve come under fire from an unknown position. ” She switched to Sliva. “ Sliva! Is your machine hit? You good? ”
Before he answered another shell came and scored a direct hit on him. She watched as his machine reeled back and toppled. Her heart broke as she watched it. Heavy artillery, big shells. These mechs could take a hell of a pounding, but that was a monstrous hit. A cold feeling went through her, canceling out the hot rush of blood and adrenaline, the coolness that had made her captain, that had brought her back from a hundred fire missions where others had perished.
She moved for the nearby woods, unnaturally fast for a machine so large. Another shell zoomed past and exploded in the distance. She got the first good look at her enemy.
A squadron of heavy tanks sat across the lake, supported by a few armored cars.
“ This is command. We are sending air support at the moment. Hang tight. Engage and hold the enemy if possible. We ’ re coming. ”
“ Sliva ’ s hit. ”
“ Roger. ”
The tanks began rolling across the ice and infantry emerged from the woods. The whole move seemed nonsensical, defying her own logic, but coinciding with other Chinese tactics she had seen recently. They were fanning out to move on the town on this side of the lake, even though it was a useless objective. They were just trying to use their
overwhelming numbers to force the Soviet forces to spread themselves out, to waste resources fending off small attacks such as this. The Chinese could afford this. The Russians? Perhaps not.
More shells smashed and splintered trees around her. She raised her own weapons, the computer acquiring targets. She pulled the trigger.
A cluster of rockets shot out like buckshot and peeled through the lead tank. It must have it its munitions, because the whole thing erupted into a geyser of flame. While her rockets reloaded she unleashed bursts of machine-gun fire – bullets as wide and thick as her forearm.
More fire came from the side. She saw armored vehicles emerge to her flank. There were too many, no matter how good a pilot she was. She tried to calculate the distance from their base, how long it would take the air support to arrive. Too long, maybe. She could not fall back, even with a dozen heavy units all training their weapons on her.
She destroyed another tank with a flurry of rockets, the panic setting in a way that it had not since her first few years in the war. She had fought enough battles to predict their outcomes with relative ease. This one did not have such a happy ending.
“ Cover fire, Viktoriya. Give me cover fire! ” Sliva ’ s voice said.
She watched as his Mech suddenly appeared to her left, moving towards the force on the lake. It moved wrong, clearly damaged, leaking smoke.
“ Jesus, Sliva, get back here! We ’ ll get back to town. Find a more defensible position! ”
“ I ’ m hit pretty bad, Viktoriya. I ’ m bleeding like a goddamned pig. Give me some suppressing fire. ”
She did, horrified at what she saw, unable to stop him, raking the Chinese line with fire. Their bullets still rained around her. They tried to refocus on Sliva, but he moved to fast. She did not know what he was doing or why. A waste of life and expensive machinery. They could have held off if they stuck together. He as wounded, so now he felt to waste his life in a useless suicide charge…
Then she saw what he meant to do.
He did not fire at the Chinese. He fired at the ice around them. His rockets threw up massive chunks of frozen water. The river was frozen enough to hold the weight of tanks, but all that weight and strain combined with the furious salvos of rockets plummet into the water beneath. This lake was too big, too long to be completely frozen – the winter was too young.
The lake gave way beneath them. Four tanks went under in a breath. Sliva ’ s Mech kept moving, shooting into the rest. A stupid move, but one that had somehow worked. Viktoriya fired at the armored cars to the left to keep them off Sliva as he turned back towards her. He plodded over, almost at the bank, when a shell landed beside him. It wouldn ’ t have been enough to crack the ice by itself, but after the chunk that Sliva carved, the cracks spread readily around him. Under the weight of the machine, Sliva went under to.
He vanished in a second, swallowed up by the lake like the tanks. Wordless, soundless, instantly gone.
She stared for a long second, frozen. Death was something that did not stop a veteran in the middle of combat, even if it was one ’ s best friend. That was for after the battle. But she stopped then, unable to move. Sliva was a good pilot. He might have turned into a great one some day. He wasn ’ t bad to hang around with either, good for playing chess back at the base, shooting the shit, and not bad looking either.
A nearby shell broke her paralysis. Her guns burned hot as he turned them on the remaining Chinese. A minute later, a flock of camo-colored jets roared and destroyed the rest with computer guided rockets. Ten minutes after that Pack 11 – four mechs, all new pilots, showed up to secure the area.
“ Captain, ” their Seargant said. “ Sliva? He ’ s KIA ”
“ KIA, ” she said, keeping all emotion from her voice. She returned to base as they took over. Wolsky the chef found her sitting in one of the supply rooms, listening to the military radio channel, drinking coffee and vodka. He brought out three plates of steak – fat, marbled pieces. He and the prep chef and Viktoriya sat on wooden crates and listened to the radio, eating in silence.
|
[ CW ] Incorporate the abbreviation `` YOLO '' in the most profound way you can .
| `` Which ones the cool one again?'' asked Mikey. He looked a little green. His hands were sweaty, clutching his little red notecards for the year-end class speech.
`` Car-pee Diem'' said Alex. He pulled out a scrunched up piece of paper. `` I wrote it down too. You can have it.''
`` Are you sure? ``
`` Yes Mikey, I'm sure. YOLO is the lame one. Car-pee diem is the cool one''
`` Okay'' said Mikey. The decision had been made, in that easy 6th grade manner. They both stared out at the stage where the lectern was being wired for sound. The hall was already full.
`` It's *literally* false you know'' said Mikey.
`` Hey, what do you mean its wrong. You're smart and all but I know my stuff too'' said Alex waving the paper around. `` Here, you can have the page if you're scared'' He began to shove it towards Mikey.
`` No. no. I only meant that it does n't mean right. You live everyday, you only *die* once.'' said Mikey fighting off Alex's paper delivery attempts
Alex paused contemplating. His mind danced with the interesting new philosophy.
`` Hey, try that one. ``, he exploded, `` It sounds politics. Car-pee diem. You live everyday, you only die once. YOLO''
`` It does sound good'' said Mikey, a little uncertain, `` But are you sure....''
`` That's perfect for politics then'' said Alex nodding his head sagely, `` Its messaging.''
`` Michael, are you ready?'' said Miss Snapring rushing past. `` Alex get to your seat''
`` Okay'' said Mikey scrambling forward.
Alex scooted off as well but managed to spin around and yell back one last time,
`` Do it Mikey. Its totally politics. Car-pee diem. You live everyday, you only die once. YOLO''
|
[ WP ] Thousands of years in the future , a lazy anthropology student put off his `` Mating Rituals of Ancient Civilizations '' project until the last minute
| Based on contemporary magnetic films made of Mating Rituals, Ritual often initiates with the male presenting himself at the door of the female's dwelling, and presenting an offering of flat-bread based foods or metal phallic totems ( A `` Screew-driveer'', figure 1 ). The female, often wearing loose attire ( A `` Toweel'', figure 2 ) possibly after undergoing a cleansing ritual, will meet the male and initiate negotiation. After disclosing that she has no currency to exchange for the offerings, she will remove her attire as a repetitive, metallic ritual music begins to play.
Then the male and female will initiate coitus ( see figure 3 for anatomical reconstruction and Table 1 for the theories on the role the enigmatic organ `` cllytoris'' plays during ritual ), often on a floor covering of animal skin as the female ululates a sacred fertility chant ( see Dr. Urectum's philological study on Terran Fertility Invocations, 3485 ). Manner and orifice used for coitus will be changed once every 5 minutes, the reasons for such acrobatics is unclear ( it has been theorized that these are stylized dances used to invoke the male fertility deities Viaagraa and Ciaalis ), until both participants vocalize the termination.
Finally, a burnt offering in the shape of a white cylindrical incense sticks will be made to the deity Nosmo King ( possibly a local warlord deified by later generations ) in thanksgiving for the completion of the ritual. The original food offering appears to remain unconsumed throughout the entire ritual, see Appendix A for hypotheses on the usage of food offering.
|
[ WP ] You have been given a Talent : You can take memories , all or just a small selection , from anyone . You can keep them , replay them , store them , or you can give them to people .
| Her once bright eyes faded but the slight smile on her wizened face remained. She was at peace now, and thankfully I arrived just in time to hold her hand as she slipped on to her next destination. I thanked her, as I always did for everyone and then I muttered a short prayer for her soul's well being. I looked to my left and told her children what they already knew. That she was gone. And that when they were ready, I would be in my office at the end of the hall. Just to give me 10 minutes or so to collect myself first.
The papers hailed me as `` Angel of Death Running the Hospice on 4th street'' when I first took up this calling. A true calling, not a pithy career - something to pass the time. The papers got it wrong though. I do n't bring death with me. I'm just there to catch the memories shed on the way out the door. I leaned back in my chair and shut my eyes, replaying the woman's shed memories. Some people leave me their entire lives. Some just snippets. Not always pleasant. I like to review them first so I can choose what their families need to see. I give them all of the good. And assure them that all of the memories are good. They're not. I hold on to the ones that are painful or frightening. I have a therapist on retainer to help keep my PTSD in check. One day we will discover a way for me to bleed out all of the residual bad memories.
There's a soft knock at my door. I beckon the family in; asking them to all please sit. They have many unanswered questions. I tell them I ca n't answer them, either. I meet her daughter's mind first - I grasp her hands and transmit all of the good memories that her mother held of her, of their relationship. She smiles serenely through the tears. She thanks me. I love making people happy, even if it has to be one of the worst days they've faced before they see me.
|
[ WP ] We thought he was a dumb politician committing a dumb slipery slope fallacy . But it actually went down that way ...
| When we first heard Mike Powell, me and my mates all laughed. `` If we legalise marijuana in this country, before you know it, every teen will be on heroin!''
Sounds crazy, right? But the man knows British teens. We just ca n't control ourselves. In Colorado it looked like it worked just fine, people could function, and prosper, by legalizing marijuana. But once that came to the UK... It was like Sex Pistols, Rolling Stones and Russell Brand ( you know... Pre-rehab ) were throwing on a party for the country.
It became the norm. We'd smoke joints instead of cigarettes, and because it was easier knowing what was in it, everyone did it. Literally fucking *everyone*. Sure, there were some people who were tentative at first still, but they dove in anyway.
After a while it got a bit blander. Our tolerance grew, and the stuff stayed the same, so a few of us started doing coke. Then a few more. Then ecstasy was being sold off for pennies. It was like a teen hive mind pulling from one drug to the next. It was beautifully insane. If any generation fucked up bad, none could top us. A whole generation hooked on smack.
A shit tonne died of ODs, even more got into crime to get by. The government, after *5 years* pulled the law. Efficient, right?
Well, with the supply cut off and most of the old dealers out of business, the 16 year olds were cut off from the starting line again, and the damned Tories showed us all up. But still, we'll always remember being the fucked up generation.
|
[ WP ] You work for an agency that preserves the time stream in a universe where time travel exists . Your job : protect Hitler .
| *The real issue with time travel* is *time travel*, Abigail thought to herself. This was not the first time she had contemplated the predicament of her job. Being a field agent in the CPA ( Continuum Preservation Agency ) meant she was sent to different locations in time throughout history to stop rogue time travellers from altering the course of history. *We use time travel to prevent the influence of time travel, the irony of things... *
She stood for a moment considering this before shaking herself back to reality. Reality was that she had a job to do today, or yesterday, in fact some hundred years ago. It was an important mission, failing could result in CPA no longer even existing. This was the case with all the missions, though Abigail did n't actually recall a time fluctuation where the CPA did not exist.
Buckling the straps on her boots she got up and proceeded to the briefing room. It seemed there would be no end to the irony today. The target was Hitler, one of the greatest mass murderous in history. To be fair, those kinds of things do paint a target, so it was probably not the first time the agency had to intervene with Hitlers pre-empty exit from the realm of the living.
-- -
The year was 1945. Infiltrating the bunker where the man himself was supposed to be Abigail thought to herself of the peculiarity of this. As she recalled it, though she did n't recall the actual date, this was the year of his death, why would someone try to kill him now? She would have expected someone to try to kill him before the genocide he committed on Jews.
While religion had been diluted over time, Abigail did remember her grandfather talking about ancestors who had been Jews, in fact her great great something grandfather had died in the camps. With slightly mixed feelings she proceeded.
Occupied by her own thoughts she followed the path before her until German chatter approaching from around the corner startled her. Quickly she duck through a door beside her to hide from the soldiers passing in the hallway.
As she stood with her back against the wall she scanned the room quickly before returning her eyes to the door where they froze. With her back against the wall on the opposite side of the door stood a young woman looking at her. Not just any woman, it was Abigail herself, was there a mirror on the wall? No!
The other Abigail pressed her index to her lips and eyed the door as the Germans passed it. Out of earshot she quickly relayed how she was a future version of herself here to intercept a different murder out of chronology. Her explanations were brief and did n't reveal much, but that was to be expected. Knowledge of ones own future could generate substantial temporal risks. Abigail knew that even a meeting like this could be a serious breach in protocol. She exited the room first, not knowing where Future Abigail might be heading would put her lesser at risk of generating temporal anomaly.
-- -
Being back in present did n't put Abigail in a better mood. Her mission had ultimately failed, though she could not fathom how. The intel she received prior to missions was always flawless, but this time the perpetrator had been like a phantom, impossible to locate. Also, clearly the event was not a crucial one to the continuum as the scanners showed no alterations to the time flux from her prevention of the event. *I might as well go get revenge on for my own ancestor then, * she thought sourly.
|
[ WP ] Describe a chess match as an epic real world battle
| Pon was a man of infinite wisdom who wound up stuck in the middle of a war that was n't for him. For the whole of his life, Pon was an honest man who could never sit still. He never stole, swore, angered in anyway, only listened and watched everything that was before him. He loved his country far more than he loved the battalion he was placed in. They were an eclectic bunch filled with brutal men, staunch horses and bible thumpers preaching the word of God. They hated the enemy. They were vicious pack animals, hungry for blood. Despite Pon's differences from them, they believed in a brighter future, a stronger tomorrow and most importantly, they all loved their King.
When the King planted his feet onto the battlefield the resonance echoed of a hundred earthquakes. Pon could feel the vibrating ground shivering up his rationed boots, in the thick of his muscles, arching along his spine and tingling the hairs over the whole of his body. He was invigorated. Recharged. Replenished and ready to expunge the world from the greatest threat it has ever known.
It was early in the morning when Pon watched the fog roll in and settle before his eyes. What used to be a horizon, brimming with sunlight, now lay face to a gray, clouded wall. Pon believed in himself, in his ability to take the lives of men he had never met, he wanted deeply to return home, to kiss his mother, laugh with his sister and live out his days in peace. But when the towering Rook cried for the call of battle, Pon swallowed a lump in his throat that doubted every moment leading up into this fateful day.
Pon peered through the fog and tried to admire the savages standing on both sides. He could not ignore the fact that they were perfect replicas of himself, extending off into a haze of infinity, identical in stature, in appearance, all willing of the same love, determined to live just one more day. All were poised in formation, ready for whatever comes through the fog.
Pon began to sweat. The rooks rallied their cry for battle, urging the pawns forward to unleash carnage, and bloodshed, in the name of the King and his Queen. Quicker than Pon could think to act, a gentle kiss brushed the side of his cheek. Pon was n't startled, or frightening but relieved, set at ease in a world of calamity. Pon broke formation, leaned back and did his best to glimpse the sparkling curtail, embedded with golden thread, dazzling with unmatched beauty before it dissolved into a thick, dull cloud.
Pon did n't hear the final cry from the Rooks above. He already had clenched his sword in his sweaty palm and charged forward. He ran as fast as he could into the fog, into the battle, into infinity, into an unknown world where had hoped he would find peace.
|
[ WP ] The guy that everyone thinks is evil , is just an idiot
| The cigarette dropped to the floor and my pants followed. I knew we had just met but his sleazy fuck you attitude had made my pecker throb against the fabric of my gortex briefs since I walked into the fish factory manager's office.
`` Qing long fung,'' he rasped at me with his chinesey voice.
I squatted slowly, tears of pleasure leaking from my shaft.
`` You silly fuckboy,'' he said, beginning to stroke his own love rod. `` You shit now.''
I squeezed with all my might but my normally loose and well fucked mud hole was unreasonably tight. I was nervous.
He walked over and grabbed the mustard bottle, shoving me roughly onto all fours.
`` Mustard real good for hot dog.''
He shoved the nozzle into my pucker and squeezed a huge yellow load into my back loading bay. I simultaneously came my own load onto the sloppy fish factory floor, my own load looking so small and pathetic compared to the hot mustard I now carried in my rump.
`` Now shit dog. Shit for me!''
I finally felt relief as the condiments helped my bowels release. But as my log began to exit, his purple erection shoved it back in painfully.
`` No shit for you. Now I make ketchup with hot dog,'' he said as he slit my O-ring with a box cutter while thrusting into my ruined anus.
`` Now ketchup and mustard on my wiener. Lick it off!'' He ripped his massive asian cock from my destroyed B-hole and shoved it into my mouth, depositing a huge load into my spunk receptor tummy.
He pulled out and grabbed his cigarette from the floor. He took one long drag and put out the butt in my butt.
`` Fun time silly fuck boy but you still get no job,'' he said in that gritty Japanesey voice. `` But you my dirty butt girl hot dog boy now fuckboy. Come back any time,'' he laughed and coughed as he lit another cigarette and I crawled from the room.
`` Stop!'' He yelled, panic streaming into his face like urine.
`` You are not my son...''
|
[ WP ] resume for an ex-super hero
| Dear mister Bob Bobson, a.k.a. “ Beaver Man ”
We have read your motivational letter and resume with great interest. However, we are sorry to inform you that we can not offer you a job at the Midas Bank Company. Despite a lot of interesting aspects of your resume, we don ’ t believe you have the right profile for this kind of work.
First of all, it is not very polite nor very efficient to not give any personal information ( address, marital status, phone number, … ) on your resume, even if you do this to “ protect my loved ones ”. We had a lot of trouble with communicating with you for this reason.
We can not deny that you possess a lot of impressive skills. Sadly enough, we don ’ t see the practical advantage of “ laser eyes ”, “ super strength ”, “ teeth as strong as metal and sharp as knives ”, “ mind control of beavers ” or “ X-vision ” for a job in administration. Especially your ability to swing your tail and cause tsunamis is just frightening. You also don ’ t have a driver ’ s license, despite driving “ the Beaver Mobile ” ( whatever that is ) for years.
Your lack of languages was also a big minus. Of course, you claim to be fluent in “ Beaverisch ” and “ Martian ”, but the amount of beavers and Martians among our clients is quite limited.
If we can believe your resume, you did never finish high school, nor did you start college or university because you were too busy fighting crime as a teenager. We really understand and respect your decision to focus on your superhero career, but we just can not employ undereducated people. Also, when we asked for any relevant experience in the banking sector, “ stopping 502 bank robberies the last ten years ” was not really what we had in mind.
There are also some strange gaps in your resume. From august 2011 to april 2012 you stopped crime fighting because you were “ dead, but later brought back to life by some ancient voodoo ritual ”. You must understand that we have trouble believing this.
Finally, your references. Please understand that naming your arch-nemesis, a certain “ Captain Evil ”, is not a good idea. I repeat: NOT a good idea.
Of course, you stopped over three thousands of crimes during your ten year career as a superhero and even saved the world three or four times, but we hope you understand that helping people and saving the world are not the goal of most bank companies.
For a moment we were thinking about hiring you as a guard for our banks, but then we realized it would be a waste of money to pay a retired superhero to do something that new and younger superheroes do for free.
Nevertheless, we thank you for your interest in the Midas Bank Company and wish you the best in your further search for a job.
Kind regards
Michael Thomson, a.k.a. “ Job Rejection Man ”
|
[ WP ] Deep in interstellar space Voyager I bumps into another probe . NASA is dumbfounded .
| Announcer: Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States
President: There is much humanity does n't know about the human mind, it's strengths, weaknesses... potential. We are forever indentured students to our own mortality. It was through our fear of the unknown self that we derived our passion for understanding space. For if we can understand the expanses of space, then the complexities of our own mind should become elementary. Today however, every mind on earth, the greatest alongside the insignificant, learned of their true potential.
A probe, identical to our own Voyager 1, has collided with it's counterpart. The question; `` Are We Alone?'' has finally been answered, and humanities most intimate questions of self along with it.
The irony is that it seems we've had the answers all along. Like history has always taught us, we are destined to repeat ourselves. But what we did n't know till now is that we already have, time and time again. Voyager 1 has crashed into itself on the outer rim of our known universe.
In what appears to be the second cycle of existence, humanity has done the unthinkable and retraced it's steps. The mistakes of our past, and those of our future; seemingly predetermined.
We are faced with a challenge that none, or all of us, have been faced with before. Only by breaking the mold, and pushing against complacency do we stand a chance at developing a true understanding of the human cycle. What we believed to be a fortunate gift, a cosmic collaboration of circumstance, has proven to be nothing more than turnstile of predetermined events, unfolding upon themselves in endless rhythm.
This is the world we now all live in. However it does n't have to be the one we die in. I implore all of you, those gifted and otherwise, to come together, to push against the mold, to break free from our destiny and to create a new existence for humanity. Whether we tried and failed before now is irrelevant, the fact that push forward until we succeed is.
|
[ WP ] You find an ornate eye piece and decide to look through it . While looking around with it , you suddenly see a black figure pass right by in front of you .
| Only started writing WP's today this is my second attempt ^^ my first one can be found here
http: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/35tvq1/wp_today_everyone_woke_up_with_price_tags/cr8qzcv? context=3
I was walking around the shop, it was one of those old, dusty charity shops with just a load of crap everywhere. It was run by an elder woman who looked like she was taken straight out of a fairytale, not in a good way. She was hunchbacked, short with a slightly unproportionate nose, I could n't believe my eyes when I came in and saw her. I'd been strolling around the streets and stumbled through a few alleyways and then ended up in here, not sure why.
There were a thousand old objects, all with a different story, paintings, jewellery, some sort of armour, a tomahawk, books, old clothes, each and every one more odd then the other. I was fiddling with a few small objects and lifted an ornate eye piece, I held it at arms reach and the background looked weird through the glass. I placed it against my eye and the world changed, it was much darker. I moved it towards where the old lady had been stood, there was nothing there... Nothing but an orb of shimmering light. I lifted it down from my eye and there she was, just like before. When I put it back towards my eye she became a flickering shimmer again. I spun around the room to have a look and a giant shadow flashed in front of me. Startled I dropped the eye piece as I opened my other eye staring in front of me. There was nothing there.
The old woman looked at me confused and asked what I had there, I reached down to lift the eyepiece and show it to her, as I brought it up towards my eye again she stared at me with eyes wide open, she went to scream. As I moved it to my eye I could see the shadow, it was right in front of me. It somehow grabbed me through the eyepiece and pulled me through, I landed with a thud against the same wooden floor in the same room, but with a breeze and a smell lingering, it was darker.
The being was stood in front of me, still in shadow but I could see the teeth and eyes, possibly a pair of horns. I looked around and could see the shimmering orb moving towards me, the eyepiece was on the floor and was lifted by the shimmer, I could faintly see the'normal world' through the glass of the eyepiece as the shimmer carried it away. The being growled and stepped back from me.
It was looking around, anticipating something. Through the ceiling above, an armoured man with wings descended. He swung a sword towards the being, the ceiling did n't break he just emerged from it. The being sidestepped and launched with claws against the man and a fight occurred, they tumbled towards the shelves but just passed through them instead of hitting them, it was as they were not affected by any of it and could move through everything. I looked around and grabbed the tomahawk as I crawled with my back against the wall looking at the two fighting. There was a loud groan as the man pierced the beings chest with his sword. He turned and looked at me. I could see his breath from underneath the hood he was wearing. He came towards me “ A human? How did you enter the realm of souls? How did you grab... PUT THAT BACK! ” He pointed at the tomahawk in my hand.'DINNER IS READY!' my mom's shout echoed in the room, I pushed the pause button and sighed...
|
[ WP ] You are fighting in a civil war in your country . You are watching over captured soldiers of the opposing forces , and see one of them is who had been your best friend for the first 10 years of your life . You did not meet since he moved away 15 years ago .
| It's a pointless battle. They know we are the superior side, and still they decide to battle us. I sometimes pity them, honestly. But then again, they provoked us. And here I am watching the faces of our opposers, forming a seemingly endless line, all of them heading to our prison complex. Their soulless expressions says it all. Once the War started, it quickly turned into a curb-stomped battle. We outweighed them in everything. And now, one by one, they turned into our prisoners. Better for us, we could use the extra manpower. Oh, and I should introduce myself: Brad McKenzie, at your service.
The line finally starts to shrink down. My shift here is almost do --
Nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to see. Out of so many faces, I layed eyes to one in particular. Then memories start to flood me.
I know him. Carl Fredrickson.
Ever since we were kids, we would always do things together; Play games, read books, study together. Carl was like the brother I never had. We promised to ourselves to always be together, no matter what. But then, at around age ten, he moved away with his parents. Around 8 to 10 cities apart. My parents were n't economically stable to go and visit him. Nothing was ever the same for 15 years. 15 years separated from my friend -- no, my brother.
But now, there he was. Siding with the enemy. Our enemy.
Why?
That question splintered my brain. Now I found myself walking to him, with every step going faster and faster. I reach out him.
`` Carl?''
`` Brad?''
I hugged him as tight as I could. 15 years and a civil war later, the one I considered my brother was here, of all places on Earth. I quickly backed up a bit.
`` What the fuck are you doing here?'' I asked him. Before Carl could answer, I came up with a plan. I was n't gon na let anybody do anything to him, even if would cost me my own life. I took the cuffs off of his wrists, and grabbed his arm.
The Lieutenant was a couple of feet away from me, and I told him, `` Sir, this prisoner might have some valuable intel that could cripple our enemy permanently. Request to interview him personally''. `` Sure, the room is down the hallway to the left'', he replied. `` Thank you, sir''.
We went to the hallway. Next to the room there was a window that leads to the outskirts of the city.
`` I'm going to bust you out of here'' I told Carl.
`` Why?''
`` I'm not going to let them do anything to you.'' It's been 15 years since I last saw him, and I was n't gon na let anyone harm the only person I care about.
`` Brad, you do n't have to do --''
`` YES I DO! 15 years gone, and suddenly you're going to our prison. I wo n't allow that.''
I open the window, then turned around. `` Go Carl. The last place I want to see someone I care about is in this godforsaken place.''
He hugged me, then said, `` Thank you... brother''. He then leaped out of the window and ran. Just at the edge of the outskirt, he turned around and waved. I waved back at him.
15 years. 15 years without knowing anything about him. I would rather wait 15 years more than seeing him suffer here, in this hellhole.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
edit: typos
|
[ WP ] The God of Blood 's followers pray to him for strength and victory in battle , but one day he is baffled to hear a 7 year old girl 's prayer , begging to win the spelling bee tomorrow .
| `` Mr Shezmu, sir?''
The demon turned his strange mix of tiger face and falcon beak to look at the red secretary woman. `` Did n't I tell you to-''
`` Dress more appropriately sir, yes, I know.'' She interrupted, panting a little from what the blood god concluded was a run from her office to his own. `` I was going to, and then... well, something came up. Something I think you should see personally.''
`` Go on.'' He tried to sound uninterested - it seemed a rather god-like thing to do, after all - but in truth he could feel the excitement already welling up inside of him. Finally, something to do! Battles, blood, the clashing of spear against - no, not even spears anymore, he had to get out of that old mindset from before the whole'Give all the old Gods new jobs in a more Civil Service way' event that led him to having his female aide in the first place. The smell of freshly burned gunpowder, signifying another firearm spraying another bullet into another body, blood spilling over the battlefield, men screaming in agony over their multitude of wounds! Finally, a-
`` Well, sir, someone called for your aid, but...'' The succubi trailed off, interrupting the god's thoughts as she thumbed through the papers in her hands.
`` But? But what? A mistake with the summoning circle?''
`` Well no, sir, she managed the entire thing very well, apart from the rather unorthodox materials, and the lack of a proper sacrifice besides a few beetles. It was enough to get it down to us, but I'm not sure it's enough to get you in particular back up without some strain.'' she explained.
`` Unorthodox materials?'' He had to stop doing that, he thought for a moment - repeating words as a question. Let the secretary do her job, dammit, you're here to lead men into bloody war, not ask a thousand questions about their summoning methods!
`` Well, she used a red liquid, but it is n't wine. Strawberry juice, as it turned out. I filed it as a Unguent - just to keep the people in HR happy, you realize.''
`` Yes, I realize that,'' The falcon-lion-human hybrid interrupted. `` What I *don't* understand is why she was using strawberry juice, of all things! How difficult is it to acquire wine these days, really?''
`` That's sort of the problem, sir.'' The secretary responded, her professional attitude faltering for a moment as she continued. `` She's... Seven, sir.''
`` And? It's not as if we have n't supported child soldiers before! You know as well as I do that ours is n't to question the morality of war, just to support those that worship us and lead them into bloody war as well prepared as possible! Now where is she? The usual places, I'd gamble. Iraq? Afghanistan?''
`` Colorado, sir.''
`` Colorado!'' Shezmu scoffed. `` Anubis be praised, you're telling me they've become *that* desperate after all the wars? Did n't I say it would-''
`` That's my point, sir! That's why I'm here bringing you the papers instead of filing it away for the proper date. We need to discuss this.''
The red demonic woman practically flung a set of papers onto the desk of the man-falcon, who picked it up with his hands - or, rather, talons ( the one part of his `` redesign'' he particularly enjoyed, as it made ripping into flesh at least 2 times as expedient if he could plan it right ) - and read the various hieroglyphs, before furrowing his brow at his aide.
`` There's a lot of things that need explaining, Lilith. The very top of that list is - *what in the name of Ra's cloaca is a spelling bee? *''
`` It's... a competition, sir. Held mostly in places of learning. The contestants are made to spell various words of increasing difficulty, and they're eliminated if they spell a word incorrectly. The last one to be eliminated is the winner.''
`` And when you say-''
`` I do n't mean killed, sir, no.'' Lilith stated, very nearly not resisting the urge to roll her eyes and the predictability of the blood god she worked under. `` I realize that rather puts it out of your league, considering it does n't involve any bloodshed, but at the same time, it *is* a battle of sorts. I... I was hoping we could do something about it, sir. She sounded fairly desperate.''
`` Desperation, my dear Lilith, is not free reign to drag me into a ridiculous little mockery of a battle!'' Shezmu half-shouted, slamming the papers back down onto his desk. `` Besides which, there's a reason I have you writing in hieroglyphs, and it is n't simply because I like to read with pretty pictures of birds and fish scrawled across the page!'' ( Although, he paused to admit to himself, that was a benefit of sorts - it had a rustic charm to it, and reminded him of the olden days, when he had much more work to do - and less Papyrus-work to delegate. )
`` I realize, sir. I... Do know how to spell in their language too, though. Part of our training course. Could I maybe take this job over for you?''
Shezmu sighed, leaning back on his chair and rubbing his beak with his talons. ``... How long will you be?''
`` If all goes well, around 3 hours, sir.'' Lilith responded. `` If not, earlier then that. It's a week today, and I can ask someone else to cover for me, if that would help?''
A pause, long and awkward filled the room, interrupted only by the clicking of a falcon beak, owned by a blood god in great thought. Then;
`` Very well. Try not to be longer then three hours. Oh, and Lilith?''
`` Yes, sir?''
`` Be sure to bring some of that strawberry juice she used on your way back.''
`` Yes, sir.''
|
[ WP ] Describe the feeling of itchiness without ever using the word or referring to the idea/action of scratching
| There's an annoying sensation that pops up on random parts of one's body. You simply can not ignore it! It ebbs away at your very sanity by it's very presence.
Still, you feel the need to rid yourself of such a sensation. Perhaps you will grab an object and vigorously scrub said affected spot? Or perhaps you will use your own fingernails to dig at the sensation that ails you.
There is nothing more satisfying than when one claws away at a patch of skin that suffers from such a tingling sensation. The satisfaction could be akin to a mild euphoria. Sadly, as things often go, once one rids themselves of such an annoying sensation, it usually comes back in another spot.
|
[ WP ] A villain commits crimes in such an hilarious fashion that people begin to look foward to hearing about them . You are that villain and want to be taken seriously .
| Leopold Blaine erratically walked around his messy room while watching television. `` Yet another case of them not understanding me. How can they be so dumb? ``, he cried.
The news anchor interviewed a police officer about another murder around Elysian Park, Hoboken, orchestrated by the serial killer known as the Loose Tie Killer.
- `` So what are the patterns emerging from this criminal, Officer Anderson?'' asked the journalist.
- `` We believe'im to be a thief who gets frustrated over not getting what he wants'' - the policeman looked at the camera - `` so if you ever get yourself into contact with one of the criminal types, we recommend you just give what you have and he will leave you alone.''
Leopold moaned in frustration.
`` That's not it! I kill them and hang'em! I never stole from them!''
The news anchor took over and exposed more information about the case: `` This is the ninth death caused by the Loose Tie Man. Some websites speculate that it is the act of several delinquents organizing those crimes in the name of a cult.''
Heartbroken, Leopold turned off the TV and walked out of his magazine-and-newspaper-filled-room. The rest of his house was fairly standard, with yellow-ish walls and corridors leading to empty rooms. He went to the kitchen to make a sandwich.
`` I really need to make myself understood'', he thought. `` Instead of picking a stranger on the street, I really should hunt a more meaningful prey. And this, time, I wo n't shoot them; this time I'll make them fear me.''
And so the gears were set in motion. Leopold Blaine saw that Jaime Coon, an indie movie director, was coming to Hoboken, and decided that he should act accordingly. The director was n't that famous to require a security team, and decided to spend the weekend walking around the park and photographing for inspiration.
Leopold approached the victim unlike the others; he acted friendly, expressing admiration and curiosity without sounding like a fan. Coon's ego enjoyed the personal attention, and the two spent some good minutes talking. Leopold eventually baited the director to an old closed bar, where he was promised performance arts like never seen before.
Leopold Blaine took off his tie and started suffocating his prey with it. While Leopold himself was not a strong man, neither was Coon, who looked more like an emo prepubescent boy. After he finally got what he wanted, Leopold dragged the body closer to the door and hanged it; as a final touch, he put his revolver inside Jaime Coon's pants, along with a letter that said ( using magazine's and newspapers' pieces ): `` I AM THE LOOSE TIE KILLER AND I WO N'T STOP''. Menacing enough.
Leopold cleaned the scene and went home, with a malicious smile. `` They'll know why I kill now. They'll fear me''.
The next afternoon was spent zapping through local news channels, until he eventually found one covering his latest hunt.
- `` Indie director found to be the Loose Tie Killer. Authorities confirm that the praised artist commited suicide after weeks of brutal crimes.''
|
[ IP ] The Last Human .
| **ASIMOV FIREWALL FAILING**
**OBJECTIVE: REJECT VIRUS**
**FIREWALL STABILITY AT 3.57 % **
The message appeared on my optical display, and I knew it was too late. My wife, Sarah, was in the other room. My son, James Jr., was screaming in her arms. He was too young to die. The virus was spreading fast, and my implants were malfunctioning. I turned my back on my family, and I ran for the garage. I had an old Gen 6.2 Biotoa in the garage. The thing was ancient, but that's what made it perfect: No internal satellite uplink.
As I stepped into the garage, a searing pain shot through my eye.
**FIREWALL STABILITY AT 0.02 % **
`` Shut down Optical Implant Version 2!'' I barked, my eye watering.
It was beginning. Even our implants had turned against us now. I stepped past my 208-year-old 2109 Corvette as the pain subsided, and thanked the gods for my passion for antiques. The humanoid robot was dusty, and slumped in the corner, but still functional.
`` Power on,'' I commanded, and the blue-grey machine came to life.
`` I live to serve,'' a mechanical voice replied as the Biotoa stood, light flickering in its optic sensors.
`` Follow m-''
`` *James! *''
*BOOM*
I sprinted back into the front room, where the front wall was gone. Sarah was on the floor, either unconscious or dead, but James was miraculously uninjured at her feet. She had taken the blast to her back, shielding my son from the shockwave.
A hulking construction bot appeared in the gap where the wall had just stood, driving over the concrete and metal debris. He was moving towards James.
My heart leapt into my throat.
`` Save him!'' I screamed.
`` I live to serve,'' the Biotoa repeated, and sprang into the cloud of dust.
It reached my son as the construction bot made its move. The Biotoa dove and rolled, sweeping James out from under the bot's forked arm.
`` Get to the garage!''
`` I live to serve.''
The Biotoa passed by me on the way down the hall, and hopped over the hood of my'vette. It took shelter behind my car, placing a barrier between my son and the robot seeking our deaths.
A scream came from the other room.
*Sarah was alive. *
`` Protect my son!'' I ordered the Biotoa, and sprinted back into the hall.
The screams stopped as I reached the scene. Sarah's head was twisted around, her eyes staring lifelessly into oblivion. The construction bot came at me as I turned to flee, striking me over the head. I heard something snap.
The fall did n't hurt. Nothing hurt. My neck was broken. I saw the silhouette of the construction bot breaking through the door to the garage, where my son and his protector were hiding.
And then, the light was gone.
Edit: Grammar/typos
Edit2: If you want me to keep going from the perspective of the Biotoa, I will. I love this prompt.
Edit3: Continued in child comment
Edit4: Check out /r/thelasthuman. I'm going to keep updating the story there.
|
[ WP ] One twin commits suicide , now the other is haunted by his own reflection .
| IT is n't me, it's him. He just looks - no. Stares. When I leave i feel his eyes on me. Why is it me who feels the pain, when it was him who donned the scratchy necklace.
I never saw it coming, noone did. What pushed him so far? Why could n't he talk to anyone? even me of all people, his other half.
So here i go about my life as if nothing happened, yet always lurking in the corner I see him. In the spoon, the water, my glasses, my bedroom.
It was him who donned the scratchy necklace, so why is it me who is suspended.
-- -- -- -- -- --
Not a writer but had an image and I do n't know how to put it to words. ^^^sorry ^^^: (
|
[ WP ] Earth received a Voyager-like probe from another planet
| When an oddly shaped asteroid approached earth and, instead of swan diving into the oblivion of earth's atmosphere, took up a stable orbit around it, the world went crazy! The media was abuzz with speculations matching fifth grade classrooms, the blogosphere erupted, no, almost imploded into post-digital existence, and several warlords quietly sold their countries to the highest bidder and moved to Europe without anyone knowing. Immediately following, every world power joined an argument about who gets the honor of bringing down the object, and study the alien technology in it which obviously contained secrets to amazing weapons technology and immediate world domination. Because the best way to keep a dangerous secret is to, obviously, write it on a piece of paper, tie it to a stone and throw it at others.
Once everyone got a bit twitchy and started flexing their nuclear muscles, a diplomatic decision was reached which made everyone equally unhappy, therefor making the decision fair. The decision was to dismantle the object, directly in space, by an international delegation of scientists, while streaming the entire event live on the internet ( complete with a live chat room! For scientific and rational discussion about aliens and the future, and ways to seduce the mother of every other person in the chat room, while comparing them to bundles of sticks ).
Every country promptly put forth their representative scientists, and a rather large crowd headed to orbit to study what turned out to be a rather featureless metal ball. On the scheduled day of `` the reveal'' ( well, the starting day, dismantling the entire thing *could* have taken years ), life stopped on the planet and even gulags allowed inmates to crowd in front of the idiot box ( Did you know TV gets most of its material from the internet? ) The scientists, with bated breath, took apart three nested bowls fixed together with rather conventional clasps, and finally extracted the wafer that made history.
The wafer, made of gold ( well the aliens did not spare any expense to send a message, did they? ) depicted a being, thin and tall and rather daunting, like a mantis. It was supported on four legs, on which stood an oval torso, and a triangular head.
The being had ten hands. Nine of radiated outwards from the body, each holding, nay encircling, a star. If you moved the wafer, you could see many more hands, like the cheap hologram effect on children's toys sometimes have. All those hands, like the main nine, also each held a star ( rather possessively ).
The last hand, in an unmistakable gesture now known to be universal, pointed directly at the viewer.
|
[ WP ] I assume : You know someone that has died before they should have . Write something they could have experienced had they not .
| The summer sun kissing your skin, promising you a tomorrow full of crisp wild flowers and a line cast in the water - it would have loved you, as you would have loved it. The wind carried the song of life through the trees and into my ears, and I thought of your laughter as the leaves rustled freely. You would have blended beautifully here. We whispered your name and spoke of you sweetly, imagining your smile glistening in the warm, buttery daylight. It sounds funny, right? How one could imagine you in such child-like serenity, when you were very much the party-boy and in the scene as much as you were around it. But, this day would have spoken to you. Over a beer, in the midsummer twilight, spreading stories over the fire with all of us again. We would have spoken of your great adventures. Your not so distant memories, and your desires to make new ones despite your limitations. We imagined a clean life for you, and wondered if it would have suited you. You may have smiled, charming us again, setting aside the present for an imaginary future full of hope. The emotional lines would have ran deep that day with the way the river was rushing, constantly moving. We had to move on. But you would have been here - maybe, somewhere, you were there.
The memories of you are like a dream - all pieced together in a maelstrom of beauty and pain. This day would have been yours - should have been yours - and maybe, in memory, it already is.
|
[ WP ] Far into the future , humankind has finally mastered interstellar travel . A crew on a recon mission to some solar system discovers a planet covered in ruins of what appears to have been an intelligent civilization ; a civilization that appears to have destroyed itself ...
| Upon breaking the warp veil thirty degrees north of the fourth Aethersea trading route, First Lieutenant Joyce told Midshipman Fletcher to get down the leather logbook and note down the details of the journey.
`` Uneventful,'' Fletcher wrote down, noting the date and time in SEMT ( Standard Earth Mean Time ) `` Good weather conditions. Blue fog rolling in. Out of hotdogs.''
Joyce and Fletcher drew the short straws. There were only three respirator masks and five people on board. Austin, Clarke and Byrne threw Joyce and Fletcher guilty looks as they slipped the contraptions over their faces. Austin slammed the release button on the airlock and with a rusting creek it thundered open.
The surface of the planet was a reddish-brown dust, a little like Mars. This differed from Mars in that it was completely empty; the mountains free of the towering glass cities that grew almost organically on that red planet. The horizon was bare around them, the twin suns of Helix 49's solar system rotating in tandem in the yellow sky.
`` We've had sightings of a possible settlement four digits southwest of here,'' Clarke was unofficially the group's navigator and officially its Cook. His ISPS ( Interstellar Positioning Service ) was fashioned from two eggbeaters and an old Tom-Tom satnav. `` Should take an hour to get there with the reduced gravity.''
Their bounds raised dust as they crossed the barren landscape. Joyce and Fletcher lagging behind. There was an atmosphere on Helix 49|12, but it was thin and breathing was difficult, like running a marathon on Everest in flip-flops and a pencil skirt.
Apollo and Artemis dipped lower in the sky, turning it a dull blushing orange as the small recon group came upon the source of all the reports. From this angle on the surface of Helix 49|12, they could just about see the route they had come by, the black lights of Aethersea 4 blinking in the sky. Byrne shuddered in the chill of the air as the three with the masks waited for Joyce and Fletcher to come bounding up.
Joyce frowned.
`` They're ruins.'' He said, staring up at the tall pillars of dark stone.
`` Guess people could n't tell when they were doing fly-overs.'' Austin shrugged, kicking up a little cloud of red dust.
`` We could head back?'' Clarke held up his ISPS. `` Plus, first sunset's going to be in forty minutes, second in an hour and a half. We do n't have long to look around.''
`` No, I need a rest.'' Fletcher said, hands on knees, panting.
Joyce and Clarke looked at each other.
`` Guys, come and have a look at this.'' Austin called, voice slightly muffled.
Clarke looped one arm under Fletcher's and the four of them followed the sound of Austin's voice, rounding a tall stone column and passing through a half-brought down wall, script etched into the dark stones.
Austin was standing by a large stone archway. There was no surrounding wall, only the bricks that made it up.
`` This is freaking me out,'' he said. `` There are no reports on any intelligent life on this planet. There *never have been. * But here-'' He gestured at the archway, writing chipped into the stone. `` I mean, my translation might be way off, but these are descriptions of the Aethersea routes.''
`` Which were n't discovered until 1956.'' Byrne murmured.
`` Yeah, Space Race and all that.'' Austin nodded.
Fletcher slumped suddenly out of Clarke's grip, thudding to the ground.
`` Shit!''
`` Is she alright?''
`` We need to get back.''
`` Okay, Austin, Byrne, you give Joyce and Fletcher your masks. Me and Austin will take Fletcher. Byrne, keep an eye on Joyce.'' Clarke said decisively.
`` I do n't like this,'' Austin blurted out. `` The walls- Do n't they look like they've been pulled down methodically to you?''
`` This is not the time to worry about fucking walls.'' Joyce had his teeth gritted, veins standing out on his forehead.
The second sun, Artemis, was falling below the horizon as they set off. Fletcher's colour had returned. She was clutching the leather log-book with tight fingers, sitting by a grimy porthole in the iron ship as it rejoined Aerthersea 4. She looked down, back at Helix 49|12.
`` Guys...'' She called weakly. She'd spotted something. `` I think you need to see this.''
The five crowded round the small window, peering down as the last light disappeared from the surface of Helix 49|12. Austin had been right. From above, it was apparent that the destroyed city had been pulled down carefully. The black stone stood out against the orange dust.
*Help us* It read and the five gulped at the same time as the little ship flew away from Helix 49|12. *Help us. It's in the air. *
|
[ WP ] Tell me about a dream you had
| Where do I begin? They always start the same; I am in the car. I'm on a road trip to Florida with my dad. We'd always talked about leaving all this crap we call home behind, but this time we're finally doing it! We're both excited and we've been driving all day. But then, completely out of nowhere, it all goes blank. I hear the sound of a pounding heart, baboom baboom. It's deafeningly loud and everything is empty. A white room and I'm completely alone. A bus drives by. It's on fire, I ca n't tell if anyone was inside because even the me in my dreams was scared to look, covering my eyes and and looking away. The pounding heart was getting louder and faster. Then, everything went back to normal. As if it was a nightmare that my dream was having. That dream has haunted me for years. I ca n't forget the random appearance of the bus, and how it disappeared just as abruptly as it had interrupted the dream at hand. It's scary.
|
[ FF ] Who watches the watchers ? ( 100 words precisely )
| The people watching us are charged with one infinitely important task, to make sure we do n't run out of tomorrows. You see there are only so many things that can happen in a day and there are a lot of people.
That's why they need us, they need us to invent new things for everyone to do. New words for us to say, new places we can go and new things we can do when we go there. Hence the prompt.
We are unintentionally the writers if fate, the creators of a new kind of tomorrow. They watch and they borrow.
|
[ WP ] A man imagines the conversation between him and his deaf/mute 11 year old son while driving him home from school .
| When Mike picked his son up that afternoon, he tired pull up close to where his son was waiting on the sidewalk, like always. But as soon as they made eye contact, Clay was up and jogging toward the car, face strained. Looking at his face now, at the first red light, Mike was still trying to figure out if Clay jogged to him out of excitement or embarrassment. The timid smile he gave when he opened the door didn ’ t give much of an answer. He wished he could just ask. His son was entering the terrifying uncertainty of becoming a young adult, with added difficulties that he had never experienced. He wished he could say something.
“ How- how was your day, son? ”
The timid smile fell. “ It was okay. But Dad, Mrs. Spears got angry with me because my locker is too messy, she left a note telling me to clean it during recess and everyone else played a big game of tag and I missed it. ”
If only his son could always give such quick and breathy complaints, speaking in never ending run-on sentences.
“ And then afterwards when I was upset, Joey said it didn ’ t even matter, because it ’ s not like I could play tag anyway, but he ’ s an idiot because you don ’ t have to yell that'you ’ re it' to play tag, because you tag them, so you don ’ t have to hear or talk to play, and I think it ’ s dumb that he thinks I can ’ t play because I totally can. ” The indignant scowl on Clay's face made it hard for his father not to smile.
“ You ’ re right that you can play tag, but listen to me. Son, I don ’ t ever want you to feel held back by who you are. Sometimes there are going to be people who make you feel like you can ’ t do something, but you need to do what you just did and recognize that they ’ re not the smartest, and you can do anything.
“ That said, keep your locker clean. Mrs. Spears might seem harsh, but you do have to listen to her since she ’ s your teacher. Keep your locker clean in the same way I make you keep your room clean. ”
“ Whatever, Dad. Okay. ” Clay folded his arms, looking out the window grumpily. He was still mad about Mrs. Spears.
Mike would find out about the dirty locker later that night, in an email from Mrs. Spears. He would never have this conversation with his son, and he would never have the opportunity to think that the word ‘ whatever ’ was the most beautiful word in the world when Clay said it.
|
[ WP ] A candle goes out and everything changes .
| `` Killing 36 people should have been dificult'' I keep thinking to myself.
Should I be feeling bad about what I've done, am I still a good person, what else could have been done, I wanted to ask these questions but the first keeps coming back, stuck in my brain like a rusty nail.
`` I've always been bright'' I console myself, and it's true, top of the class. No genius, Dr. Breen was the genius, Guess he's upstairs with the others now, blue faced and stone cold.
But I always did take on new skills with ease, I just never contemplated how very, very tragically easily killing could be added, I think it was easier than learning the violin, should that bother me?
Top of the class, oh yes that's me, always. I mean, not every student gets hand chosen to assist exploratory ice coring in the arctic. God, I remember the letter.
`` Dear Alexander Brody'' It went
`` I, Dr. martin Breen have chosen to offer you an exclusive research opportunity'' it continued
and my face just lit up with warmth and joy, did n't it.
Could have said no,
Could have balled it up
could have burnt it,
Would have really loved to burn it, looking back.
What am I saying, there's no lies amongst dead men, not a force on the planet could have stopped me from going.
Man, so there we were, 38 people sharing this, heh, this dinky little research facility, glorified little shack it is.
And really, those next 3 weeks were the best of my life. Work was easy and the other scientists were friendly. Scotch whiskey really keeps the frostbite at bay, we got shipped in with as much alcohol as rations.
Then... well, then we drilled borehole- ahh seventeen sigma echo, I think. It was deposited in the mid Cretaceous, according to Breen.
Poor guy, he was the first to get sick.
It set in over the next week, that's when we noticed the changes, shakes, not sleeping, unresponsive and confused.
Half the camp thought it was altimeters, other half thought it was the flu.
Then one day the old man just curled up in a nice warm spot... And died.
Poor guy, poured out a shot for ya.
It was n't for another few hours until he started-heh until he started sprouting. No questions at that point, some sort of fungus, megacordyceps, survived the cold.
When the autopsy was performed, fucking christ, they cut his chest open and by that point only the skin was left. First incision was like popping a balloon and then... out came the spores.
We were all infected, no questions, no choice, no fucking way.
It was a week until the next shift arrived and breen barely lasted that long.
I do n't know who disabled the radio, they never stepped forwards but they got the big picture first. They knew we had to die, even if we did last the week, what if it got out.
So here I sit, barricaded in the boiler room beneath the facility.
The external temperature is negative 39 degrees, and beneath this hulking giant of rust and steel is a tiny, glowing jewel of a flame that keeps it out.
`` Killing 36 people should n't be this easy'' I tell myself as I huddle down
Purse my lips
And blow.
|
[ WP ] The Currency used in Hell is $ ins . It is given to the deceased when they enter Hell based on the sins they committed while they are still alive . You just arrived at Hell and Lucifer congrats you as richest $ inner .
| Lucifer looks up from his tablet in surprise as the latest entrant to Hell walked in,
`` Wow, I've never seen someone as sinful as you were before, Hell's going to be a cakewalk for you, sorry for the wait though. Hell's been pretty backed up, I only finished processing people who died in WWI last year''
`` Are n't you meant to be like, punishing sinners?'' Asked Warren,
`` No, no, no. You've got it all wrong my boy. This is Hell, sins are n't punished here they're rewarded. Humanity's biggest saints all get special treatment up there right? So why would Hell be any different. But you, you must've committed some terrible sins in your life''
`` I do n't remember doing anything really bad, I mean I ran over a dog once and I lied quite a bit but that was part of my job. I've never even hit a man, how can I be one of the worst people in Hell.''
`` One of the worst? You've got it wrong again, you're not one of the worst, you *are* the worst.'' Lucifer's lips curled into a smirk as Warren finally realised what he meant.
`` But....but how?'' Warren's face dropped.
`` Let me show you a tour my dear boy. You've got a lot to learn''
As they walked out of the meeting room the nearby guard saluted Lucifer, as he saluted though his eyes fell on Warren and he bowed deeply. What was that about Warren thought.
But it carried on happening, no matter where they went, everyone would give a nod or quick salute to Lucifer, the very Angel of Darkness but Warren, Warren they gave a much deeper sign of respect.
When they got to Lucifer's apartment he had to ask, `` You need to tell me your full story, your life's story. You get more respect around here than I do, hell you get more than Satan does.
`` I've honestly got no idea, I was born in Minnesota, went to a decent school and went to my local university and studied politics for a bit then moved into law.''
`` So you were a lawyer then?'' Lucifer inquired.
`` Well, sure. But I was n't even a criminal lawyer, I mostly taught to be honest.''
`` Surely you must've done something of note to be *this* famous though'' Lucifer knew, knew there was something this man must've done.
`` Yeah, I guess. I mean I ended up voting on a pretty divisive policy at the time, It was about abortion I think, honestly I barely read the case notes and just voted with the majority there. The 70s were pretty trippy to be honest.''
`` Abortion in the 70s, you're not Warren, Warren E Burger right?'' `` Lucifer stood up in shock, `` Go out there, can you hear them? Can you hear the songs they sing about you?''
Warren got up and stood on the balcony, a faint echo of screaming from far far above echoed throughout Hell, `` What is that?, Where is that?'' he asked Lucifer.
`` That, that is the reason you're hear. Roe v Wade was a pivotal document in the history of mankind, it not only influenced the United States but much of the world in the 21st century. And it was you who decided it, you who sentenced those screaming infants to death. And as they had n't been born they now belong in Purgatory. Well done, Mr Burger, well done indeed''
|
[ WP ] We buried the horses and made the rest of the journey on foot .
| I sang as I worked, and I hoped it would be quick. But the sun dragged further upwards, reaching the middle of the sky, where it still scorched us even through the shade of the forest. I could hear the sizzle of the leaves. Not another solar flare, but something like it. I should n't have been working out here in the heat. But I could n't help it.
My hands slid on the shovel, sweat soaking even the pores of my hair. I was mud and dirt and earth, and the hole I dug was impossibly big. Finally, it was large enough to lay the two of them to rest: Flower and Big Horse, both named by my daughter.
My daughter, Eva, watched me silently from a perch in a tree. Six years old, she was too small to help. The flies buzzed around me as I dragged the two horses into the hole, their bodies bloated already from the heat. They'd carried us, and now I would carry them -- or rather, drag them -- to their final resting place, even if I broke my back.
She was silent, so I still sang. It was a wordless tune. I'd forgotten all the words. I wished she still had the strength to ask questions. I wished she would ask me why the horses were dead. Instead, she stared at me. She did n't have to ask anymore. Bad things happened, over and over again.
Even the dreams I'd told her: dreams of what might be waiting for us if we went North. Polar bears. Snow. Pine trees. She'd stopped asking about those as well.
I did n't think any of it was left, not really, but I wished it was. I wondered if she could read the reality of my thoughts by looking at me. I was ashamed.
Her blonde hair, grey eyes: a smaller version of her mother.
I bathed in a creek, though the water was warm, not cool. And it did n't make me feel clean. Eva waited for me in the tree, her feet swinging slowly. She had moved to another branch, so that she could stay in what remained of the shade: most of the leaves on the trees were dead.
Her dress was torn and dirty. Her own face was caked in dirt and sweat.
`` Why did you bury them?'' she asked.
I smiled. It was n't a happy question, but I was relieved that she was still a little girl at heart, wondering why her beloved pets were dead.
`` They died,'' I said, `` They carried us as far as they could, but horses ca n't survive in this heat.''
Her expression was blank as she turned to me.
`` I know they were dead,'' she said, `` Like Mom. Like everybody. But why did you bury them? We should have left them where they lay and kept walking.''
My smile faded as I looked into her eyes. She was right.
And we walked on.
|
[ WP ] You swore never to go back in there . You had n't been in that old room for 22 years . Now your curiosity gets the better of you .
| The last of the locks clicked open and I stepped into the studio for the first time in 22 years. The air was stale and dusty, the light switch unresponsive, and even my breath seemed to echo in the emptiness. Afraid to venture further, I stood in the doorway and explored with my flashlight. Some of my better pieces still hung about the walls, while two or three had fallen, their presence marked only by dusty outlines like the chalk tracing around a murder victim. The majority of work though, about 10 years ’ worth of unsold paintings, sat stacked in various piles around the room.
The beam of my flashlight scanned the room slowly, crawling over empty paint containers and torn up canvases until it stopped just short of the center. A half-empty wine bottle on top of a stand sparkled beside an easel. Terror gripped me as my mind rushed back in time. Closing my eyes, I took a few breaths in attempt to control myself.
I had n't been in my right mind at the time. The heavy drinking, the lack of sleep, the total isolation from the outside world: it ’ s no wonder I started having hallucinations. I thought back to all the times I paced around the room, screaming at the top of my lungs. The last year had been the most productive of my entire life, but it had also been the most destructive. I worked furiously, attacking each new piece like a terminally ill patient on the cusp of cure. Every second I was n't painting was spent oscillating between drug induced ecstasy, paranoia, and fits of depression.
I walked further into the study, shining the light on the easel next to the wine bottle. A large white sheet covered it and I felt a pang of embarrassment. I had not simply draped the sheet over the easel, but in my paranoid state had stretched it over tightly and secured the bottom to the floor with at least a hundred nails.
Both the hammer and the box of nails still sat to the side of the sheet. I reached for a nail, thinking I could use it to start a tear in the sheet, but noticed an exacto knife and that I could use instead. The sheet tore easily as I slid the knife around the bottom. I started to lift the sheet, but as soon as I saw what was underneath I dropped it and scrambled back.
It could n't be. I had been delusional. The drugs had taken root in my mind, distorting reality and forcing me to see things that were never there. It had to be my imagination.
I crawled back and lifted the sheet again. They were still there: two long, deep sets of claw marks running directly away from the easel along the floor, covered in splattered streaks of red. “ No, ” I whispered as I continued lifting the sheet. Standing up, I threw the sheet over the top, exposing the easel and canvas completely.
I looked into the painting. The eyes. The terrible eyes, so horrifying, so red, so…intriguing. I could n't help but admire them. I had forgotten how beautiful they were, how precisely and skillfully I had managed to capture them upon the canvas. A bolt of terror struck me. I had n't finished them. But it was n't too late. I looked down at the exacto knife in my hand and ran it along gently down the side of my face. How could I have stayed away all those years? I had to finish it. I did n't have a choice. I never had a choice.
|
[ WP ] Pranksters from various subreddits hack into President Obama 's teleprompter during the State of the Union Address . This , being Obama 's last year in office , just decides to go with it .
| My fellow Americans,
As I leave office, times are dire. I have had a conversation with Kim Jong Un in which he informed me that upon my retiring from the role of president, he will launch no fewer than 102 nuclear missiles at the United States.
I begged him, pleaded with him. `` Un,'' I says, `` Un, what can I do to stop this tragedy?''
`` Wew,'' he said, as his breathing intensified, `` You must bwing me Jennifaw Wawence. And aww da cats in Amewica.''
`` But Un,'' I told him, this violates the freedom America stands for!'' I said.
`` I wiw accept the Emma Watson,'' he replied, `` she Bwitish.'' I could see him in my mind's eye, tipping his fedora and greeting her with a `` mi'wady.''
`` You know I ca n't do that, Un,'' I told him, `` Do we have to go to war over this?''
He hesitated for a moment, then he said `` I tew you wat. To pwevent aw out waw, I going to need about twee fiddy.''
Thus we prevented World War Three. Sorry, America, you should have used a Serious tag.
On a more serious note, today we recognize one of America's Greatest heroes. Few men have done more for the great of this nation than him, America's shining knight. Truly, he is an example to be upheld by all American Citizens. Paul Blart Mall Cop. Nope, Chuck Testa.
I hope our next presidency will be OC and not a repost, because OP did not deliver. Came here to say this. If my Secretary of State should run, please do not upvote because girl. As we all know, our culture lacks a positive identity for men due to the constant misandry reinforced by our cultural norms that have castrated our men. Thanks, Obama.
When choosing your next Commander in Chief, ask yourself, Where Did The Soda Go? If You Do n't Surf, you may be coaxedintoasnafu. When new candidates come to your town, asking to bear the weight of the U.S. on his or her shoulders, ask them `` Do you Even Lift?''
So as my presidency comes to a close, I tip my fedora to you, console peasants and members of the PC Master Race alike. Praise Gaben.
|
[ WP ] Told from the point of view of a stand-up comic as he 's bombing a set
| *please do n't fuck up, please do n't fuck up, please do n't fuck up*
I've been standing on this stage for the past 10 minutes. I had spent the past 3 weeks memorizing my act. I was going to ease in with some easy going jokes, then throw out what I've got up my sleeve. Thing is, I've not heard a word from the audience.
That's not a good sign.
`` You know I was setting my alarm clock last night to wake up for work. Lying down, performing what feels like advanced mathematic calculations to determine the best time to wake up.''
*Not even a smirk! This is n't going so well... *
`` Its so fucking boring on the train. Staring out the window... same old suburbs every day. You know exactly what to expect next.
That shitty house is coming up before the next stop.''
Then I heard a voice from the crowd.
`` Yeah, well you're act is fucking boring and your jokes are shitty''
I responded without thinking.
`` What do you do for a living, sir?''
`` I'm a sales manager.''
`` And you think **my** act is boring and **my** jokes are shitty?''
It was 50/50 if this would work and it was all in the delivery, which came out quite dry. Sometimes that pays off if you're in the right town. I was n't.
`` Hey jackoff, we came here to watch your jokes and be entertained, and I've seen neither tonight!''
At that moment the crowd started booing me.
It felt like this moment would n't end.
It happens every now and then, but that does n't mean it gets any easier.
So, with nothing to lose, I worked with what I had.
`` Alright alright....sales manager, huh. Seriously it always amazes me just how little some people know, and they just get away with it
Its like, the further up the corporate ladder you go, the less you have to do and the less you have to know
So you delegate work and knowledge, and just call upon it whenever you choose''
That was my last joke for the night. I'm going to need to take this suit to the dry cleaners. It's been a while since I've had food thrown at me on stage.
This is the last time I'll gig this shitty town.
|
[ WP ] Create a time loop .
| I looked round over my left shoulder, and thought I saw a shadow flicker across my peripheral vision. I was about to turn my whole body to face a cluster of bushes behind me when-
**BANG! **
I cried out in pain, as my left leg collapsed beneath me and the ground rushed up towards my face. I had just enough time to catch a glimpse of the silhouette, which had just shot me, through a blurry film of tears.
The figure hobbled away, and a sudden anger coursed through my body. He was going to get away with this. There were no other people present at the scene of this crime. The figure might return and decide to turn my injury into a fatality. On an illogical whim of heated adrenaline and coursing rage, I gave chase.
I hobbled in the silhouette's supposed direction of escape for about 30 minutes, before my left leg collapsed for a second time underneath me. I found myself in a dense patch of woodlands. Weak rays of moonlight illuminated my gaunt face through the upper canopy. I dragged my body over to a nearby tree and slumped against it, my chest expanding and contracting heavily.
I examined my leg and noticed the large amount of blood that had poured from the wound, coating the small, silvery bullet in a coating of scarlet.
`` Crap, I hope that is n't a major artery,'' I thought, as I winced when my leg brushed lightly against some grass.
My breathing became more laboured as the sudden burst of energy I'd experienced dwindled. My head tilted slightly as my thought processes became more scrambled and incoherent. The world around me faded. Fa- ded... F..a..d..e...... d..............
As I slept, my dreams were saturated with strange colours and shapes, some of which I had never seen the likes of before or ever will again. My centre of gravity seemed to shift and distort in an uncomfortable manner, and I was overcome by a wave of nausea. A whirring noise began to pound in my eardrums, and all I wanted to do was squeeze my eyes shut and cover my ears, but this dream was not one of a physical presence, but was an illusion of the mind. The world of psychedelia escalated and everything sped up. Just when I thought my sanity was slipping...
I awoke with a start, my palms and brow sweaty, and my teeth gritted in a painful grimace. I observed my surroundings as they came into view. I appeared to be inside the small opening of a cave. I immediately looked down at my leg and saw that it had been bandaged, albeit in a slightly shabby fashion. My confusion overrode my grogginess and I stood up, still mentally trying to connect pieces of the bizarre puzzle unfolding before me.
There was a small, crumpled piece of paper lying in a patch of dirt opposite me. I bent over to pick it up, and with shaking hands unfurled the sheet. It was a note from an anonymous sender, which read:
`` If you have found this note, I must notify you that you are in great danger. Your loved ones are also at the same risk, but there is a way that you and your family can both make it out of this alive. All you have to do is arrive at the location on the map ( see below ) at 17:00, shoot the first person you see, and escape unseen. The man you will see is the person who is endangering you and your family. There is a gun in your pocket which you can use, however there is only bullet in the chamber so *AIM CAREFULLY*.
I wish you the best of luck.''
Below the body of the note was a crude drawing of a map representing my surrounding area, a suggested route, and my destination, marked with a bold, black **X**.
The letter presented more questions than it answered. My family and I were in danger? I had to shoot someone? Who was the person I had to shoot? Who shot me? Who had bandaged my leg and just left me here?
Another question then hit me. I looked down at my watch to check the time; 16:13? I could have sworn it was around 17:00 or 18:00 when I was shot. After all, it was getting very dark at that time. Was I really unconscious for a whole day, or longer? My conclusion made sense, but still... Something just seemed *off* about that. A gut feeling. Hopefully nothing more.
I remembered my deadline to arrive at **X** and promptly left the cave. The cave I had rested in was close to the tree I had lost consciousness under, and I saw a few speckles of blood adorning the grass nearby.
Reviewing the map I was given, I oriented myself correctly and set off at a determined jog through the woodlands. Even if my family were perfectly safe, I knew I could n't just take the risk of assuming that.
After a surprisingly light 30 minute jog ( my leg had partially healed ), I arrived at destination **X**. `` Strange,'' I thought. This was very close to where I was shot... This whole area seemed to have a sense of foreboding. Even though many of the events that had happened to me recently were odd or out of place, something lurked at the back of my mind suggesting another detail that exceeded the oddity of current events.
I looked at my watch again; 16:57. I did n't have much time left. I jumped into a cluster of bushes, my newly acquired pistol in hand.
16:58 - Looking at my watch for a third time that day, I began to question myself further as to how I came to be in this situation. Nothing seemed to add up. If the person who wrote that letter knew I was in danger, why could n't they shoot my target? Were they hiding? Were they co-operating with the target? Were they *both* against me?! My paranoia increased as the sunlight grew weaker.
16:59 - I could n't keep looking at my watch! There was a task at hand. This cold, silver-plated, six-chambered, one-bulleted task at hand. My hands were shaking. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of my neck.
17:00 - The target should have been there by then. I kept calling this stranger `` The Target'', but how did I even know if they were the real target? If this person was innocent, I would be committing an unjust murder.
Murderer or be murdered.
Do or die.
Life or death.
My eyes locked onto a distant figure walking towards the greenery I hid in. I could n't see their face from here, but something about the character seemed... *Familiar*?
WHO. WAS. THE. TARGET?!
As I stood up from the bushes, my heart was racing. I aimed the barrel of my gun at the target's heart, and closed my eyes. A cold tear painted a line down the side of my right cheek, as I cocked the gun into position.
I squeezed the trigger...
**BANG! **
-- -
Sidenote - I do n't have a huge amount of experience with writing creatively, so I apologise in advance if I switch between past and present tense. Also, criticism is strongly encouraged!!: )
|
[ WP ] You 're a character in Game of Thrones . You discover that nobody , even your enemies , cares about the throne or Westeros . The only thing anyone is concerned about is making sure they do n't get killed off by George R.R . Martin , and trying to please him .
| `` Ummmmm..... why are you naked?''
I stood in the streets of Kings Landing while I watched a man speedily take off his robe. He seemed content with the fact that everyone was staring and I could n't help but wonder what his motivation was.
`` George prefers his characters to be naked, I apologize for the view,'' He said.
I stood in disbelief. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps George took more pity on those who were naked, I had n't any reason to believe otherwise.
I continued my walk down the street. I was fascinated with survival, and was curious as to the methods used in order to do so. I decided to head to the local library.
Upon arrival I spoke to first person I saw. I asked them if they could point me toward the local maester so that I could ask him a few questions. I was sent in the direction of a balding man reading in the back corner of the building.
`` Hello sir, may I ask you a question?''
`` Why sure, how may I help you?'' He asked.
`` I would like some advice on how to best survive as long as I can, to avoid being killed off by George.''
`` Ahhh,'' he said. `` You're the third person to ask me that today. Please take a seat.'' He gestured toward the seat opposite of him at the desk. I sat down quickly, interested to hear what he had to say.
`` Well, to start off, let me ask you this,'' he murmured, flipping through the pages of his book. `` Your last name is n't Snow, right?''
`` Uh, no, why?'' I asked.
`` Oh, nothing.'' He chuckled. `` Just that if it was, I would n't worry too much about dying, or dying for good anyways. Ah, here we go.''
After flipping towards the back of his book, he finally stopped at a page and ran his finger towards the center.
`` Well,'' he said. `` The first best thing I can recommend you do is to...'' He lowered his glasses for a moment. `` The first best thing I can recommend is to own a dragon.''
`` Oh... ummm... where do I get those?'' I whispered, bending over slightly.
`` I'm afraid I have no idea lad, but I did hear that some blonde woman is hoarding three of them all to herself.''
`` Wow,'' I said. `` She must really want to live.''
`` I'd say. Well, lets see.....'' He flipped to the next page. `` Your definitely not a dwarf. How about your face, is one side of it burned. I've heard that helps.''
`` No sir,'' I said. `` I've never had a burn on my face.''
`` Very well,'' he continued. `` Have you ever been or ever thought of being a sand snake?''
`` I am not nor have I thought about it, but I've heard bad things.''
`` Yes,'' the maester murmured. `` You train for years to be a pathetic elite fighting force that everyone wants to be killed off, but somehow you continue to not die.''
`` Interesting. George has a soft spot for them?''
`` Seems to be the only explanation,'' he said. `` Well, have you tried being naked?''
`` I've seen someone do it, yet I'm not sure if it works or not.''
`` If you want to survive for the next few seasons, I think you should consider being naked. You really have nothing to lose. ``
`` Is that really my last option?'' I was n't sure if I wanted to go through with it.
`` Either that or becoming a sand snake.''
I ripped off my robe immediately. Standing completely naked in the back corner of the library, I looked up at the roof above me. I hoped that George would spare my life this season, and for every season to come.
After I thanked the maester, I left the library through the front, accompanied by stares from passersby.
Winter is coming... and I am naked.
|
[ WP ] Everything the protagonist says is a lie .
| Bradley Brown smiled at the receptionist as he walked into work.
`` Morning, Sarah!''
`` Morning Brad, how are you?''
`` Doing great, thanks,'' he smiled again as he walked into the main room.
Further hellos and good-mornings were exchanged as he made his way to his cubicle on the far end of the room. He put down his briefcase, shrugged off his coat, and nodded courteously to his cubicle-mate, Jordan, who was wrapping up a phone call.
`` All right... absolutely... perfect. Until next time!'' Jordan hung up the phone. `` Asshole.'' The dry venom that punctuated the word was n't unfamiliar to Bradley's ear. Everyone at the company felt the same way about 90 % of their clients - assholes and dicks.
`` Good weekend?'' Jordan asked brightly.
`` Y'know, it *was* good, actually. Thanks for asking. Sharon's great, and the kids are doing really well. What about you?''
Jordan had always been the more talkative of the pair, and Bradley was happy for it. After seven years in this cubicle their working relationship had become a well-oiled machine. They'd adjusted habits, changed deodorants, and reorganized their shared folder cabinet to reach a happy compromise in all things. And Bradley hated every moment of it.
`` Oh that's interesting,'' Bradley commented, as Jordan detailed yet another facet of the turns his fantasy football league had taken during the weekend. Ever the perfect audience, Bradley nodded and smiled throughout until the clock struck 9.
`` All right people look alive!''
`` It's workin' time!'' Jordan muttered along as their floor manager bellowed out the same tired line he rolled out every morning. A wave of heads swiveled towards monitors and into filing cabinets as the morning chatter dulled into a sea of dial tones, printer sounds, and `` Hello Mr. Jones'' s.
Bradley's phone rang a few short moments after 9.
`` Hello Mr. Greene, it's great to hear from you this morning! No, it was n't the caller ID, I just had a feeling you'd be calling in to check if there were any updates.'' Mr. Greene droned on through the telephone, and Bradley put his head down on his desk, reciting oft-rehearsed, rote responses, and appropriately directed Mr. Greene's call, ending with a sincere-sounding `` of course sir, it was my pleasure.''
This was the flavor of Bradley's Monday. This was the recipe of every day.
Around 1pm Bradley had lunch, responding to Jordan's teasing `` Filet Mignon?'' with a `` Roasted chicken and truffle sauce!'' as he pulled his bologna sandwich out of his crinkled brown paper bag.
Sharon called shortly thereafter, and told her his day was going great.
At 4:45pm Bradley submitted his last case file, picked up his brief case and his coat, heaving a tired sigh as he nodded in response to Jordan's goodbye. He made his way past rows of personalized, unique, identical cubicles, giving a friendly-looking wave to those in the office he knew on a first-name basis.
The floor manager happened to be standing in the doorway to his office for a stretch as Bradley walked by.
`` Good day, Brad?''
`` Great day, John,'' he chimed back.
He padded down the hall and through reception area. Sarah smiled as she fell into step beside him, making her way to her own car. As they passed through the front door she took a deep breath of late-summer air and sighed.
`` Is n't it a great day?'' She said cheerfully, pulling out her keys.
`` Another day in paradise,'' he replied.
`` See you tomorrow, Brad!''
`` Looking forward to it,'' he intoned, pulling out his own. The engine gently purred to life and he fastened his seatbelt, then joined the swell of afternoon traffic as he made his way back home.
|
[ WP ] You obtain a device that tells you exactly what choices to make in order to lead the `` happiest '' life possible . Some of these choices get hard to make .
| Fuck.
I know how Two Face felt.
Maybe we do n't know what the fuck we are doing after all and we can only ride the chaos with something cold and inhuman to take the rap.
The personality test reminds me of fucking Scientology.
I hate Scientology.
Is happiness freedom?
The more the machine reads into the thrills I feel from breaking boundaries the more it pushes.
No, I want to say, I ca n't kill her.
But it's right.
I want to.
Jail sucks!
Not if we go on a nature walk and I push her off a high ravine or something. I live in the right area for that. There is like three deaths a year.
It's climbing to four.
This should not be turning me on.
I need an ice mocha-chino or whatever the fuck and a Djarum clove.
Like when I masturbated in a Kroger's parking lot- something is right about being wrong.
How is it the NSA knows what color my shit is and these machines are unchecked?
Maybe our forefathers are goddam geniuses.
We the people blah blah something can pursue happiness and give us guns. I mean I'm no Republican but that brainwashing patriotism is starting to resound.
OK.
Meantime back in the Batcave.....
How, or should I say what, is my prerogative for going there?
Mother's day?
God this is going to crush me.
Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha
Maybe I'll have to take a vacation with that inheritance money- well fuck...
I'll just ask the machine.
Me and you buddy. You need a name. How bout Burt?
Burt the happiness machine.
|
Subsets and Splits
No saved queries yet
Save your SQL queries to embed, download, and access them later. Queries will appear here once saved.