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[ WP ] Everyone has a number floating above their heads that is entirely meaningless
| Paul woke up that morning like most people did. He snoozed his alarm one too many times, showered, had breakfast and got ready for work. Looking in the mirror while brushing his teeth he stared intently above his head, fixated on a large number above his head. It had never changed since they appeared in the world over a decade ago, and although the'experts' and scientists had declared them harmless and without meaning, it ruled over Paul's life.
`` Another day of being no one'' he muttered, as he spat into the sink for the last time and returned his toothbrush to its resting place in the glass. Paul did not leave immediately, even though he was running late for his mundane 9 - 5 job. He looked out his window at all the people walking down the street on their way to carry on their lives. Joggers, students and workers busied themselves on the pavements like little worker ants as he wrote down in his worn notebook of all the numbers that appeared above their heads.
`` They must mean something'' he thought as Jogger # 3 got another # 7, the Blonde Office Worker was a # 9 and the beggar on the corner had a # 4, a rise from the # 2 the day before. Just like every morning, he spent ten minutes trying to work out a pattern that linked the numbers to their owners. There was always something that disproved his theories. It could not be on beauty, as the numbers would sometimes drastically change, whilst faces never changed. It could n't have been love, as the couple that always walked past his apartment on the weekend with coffee in one hand and partner's in the other, stopped smiling. Stopped holding hands, and ultimately stopped walking together entirely. Then one day he noticed the young man again whilst at a local bar, and as he cried into his whiskey clearly heartbroken, his number had changed from # 8 to # 10. Paul thought that even though they had split up, he must have still loved her, and that is why his number had gotten higher. In his drunk emotional state he was more in love than ever with something that he had now lost. He decided to buy the young man a drink, in a bid to find out more about him. It was easy to get the conversation going, what with all the alcohol flowing, it was like talking to an old friend. That's when he had discovered that the former lady in this guy's life had left him for his brother of all people. That she had been having an affair for quite some time and had told unforgivable lies to cover it up. As strong a word it is, this man now hated this woman. So the number's could not mean love. Over the years, he had ruled out strength, social status and even comedic value to name but a few.
`` There has to be a pattern, they must mean something'' he said, as he put down his number journal and left to go to work just like every morning, his obsession always at the forefront of his mind. For Paul was a # 10, and when that number appeared he had a sense of pride for the first time in his life, that he meant something. To be told it meant nothing took that away.
*I must mean something. I have to mean something. *
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[ WP ] Write a story that makes absolutely no sense , until the last sentence .
| > Stolen from 4chan:
My job is so fucking unbelievable.
I'll try to sum it up by first telling you about the folks I work with:
First, there is this supermodel wanna-be chick. Yeah, okay, she is pretty hot, but damn is she completely useless. The girl is constantly fixing her hair or putting on makeup. She is extremely self-centered and has never once considered the needs or wants of anyone but herself. She is as dumb as a box of rocks, and I still find it surprising that she has enough brain power to continue to breathe.
The next chick is completely the opposite. She might even be one of the smartest people on the planet. Her career opportunities are endless, and yet she is here with us. She is a zero on a scale of 1 to 10. I'm not sure she even showers, much less shaves her `` womanly'' parts. I think she might be a lesbian, because every time we drive by the hardware store, she moans like a cat in heat.
But the jewel of the crowd has got to be the fucking stoner. And this guy is more than just your average pothead. In fact, he is baked before he comes to work, during work, and I'm sure after work. He probably has n't been sober anytime in the last ten years, and he's only 22. He dresses like a beatnik throwback from the 1960's, and to make things worse, he brings his big fucking dog to work. Every fucking day I have to look at this huge Great Dane walk around half-stoned from the second-hand smoke. Hell, sometimes I even think it's trying to talk with its constant bellowing. Also, both of them are constantly hungry, requiring multiple stops to McDonalds and Burger King, every single fucking day.
Anyway, I drive these fucktards around in my van and we solve mysteries and shit.
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[ WP ] You 're a public attorney for a terrorist .
| “ Jack…..Jack….Jack ” a voice called to wake jack from his slumber. He had been sleeping all day in an attempt to avoid preparation for one of the largest cases jack would ever embark upon. Usually someone would be excited to be in Jacks position; a chance to make it big by winning a case such as the one set for tomorrow. It was January 20th, 2016 and it had been twenty days since the bombing on New Year ’ s Eve in Atlanta, Georgia. Jack was assigned as a public defendant to be defending the modern day terrorist who went by the name of Royce O ’ Riley. He was in fact guilty but he played the act so well he ’ d never be caught, even if Jack wanted him to be. The case was laid in front of him to win but something ate at jack which made him sick with guilt. Royce told Jack the day he was arrested he committed the crime.
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[ WP ] Dragons exist . However , since Settlers brought them to America they have multipled wildly and have become a real pest . Now , Dragonslayers are making a comeback .
| **Part 1**
“ Victoria? ”
“ What mum? ” Victoria shouted, looking up from the clothes she were drying.
The sun scorched hot on everyone ’ s heads. It was the summer of 1885. A cool breeze blew through the open fields full of yellow grass. The cherry trees were beginning to produce fruit and birds were circling all over the place, just waiting to get some for themselves.
“ Dad and your brother got burnt to a crisp by a dragon! ” Victoria ’ s mom shouted. She ran over, hiking up the dress she was wearing, her eyes large and watery. Her shouts soon turned to sobs. “ What are we going to do? The… the… the dragons keep burning everything to shreds. ”
Victoria finished placing the last of the clothes out to dry, then walked over and hugged her much smaller mother. Victoria was tall for a girl, about 173 cm, or 5 ’ 8. She had long blond hair tied up in a large braid that ran down her back and which her mother was tugging on, trying to grasp her daughter as tightly as possible.
After a couple minutes her mother let go and stared at her with sad, swollen eyes. Victoria ’ s eyes were so blue they almost reflected right off of her mother ’ s eyes. Victoria stood there in silence, not really sure what to say. It wasn ’ t a big deal to her. Dragons killed people every day. They were as common as rats, but much deadlier. Heck, she wouldn ’ t be surprised if a dragon suddenly appeared and ate her and her mother right where they stood.
A week went by when Victoria awoke in the middle of the night, choking on the smoke coming from off in the distance. Out in their own yard was a large plume of smoke and a roaring fire. The outhouse was on fire. And as she ’ d find out in a little bit, her mother was being charred to a crisp inside in one of the most undignified deaths that had ever been witnessed, literally caught with her pants, or dress, down.
She watched as the fire shined off of the red-green scales of a large, horrid creature. It ’ s eyes were giant, it ’ s teeth like sharp rocks sticking out of the cliffside. It beat its huge, magnificent wings and flew off, making a guttural sound that rocked the entire land like an earthquake. If Victoria didn ’ t know any better, she ’ d have figured it was laughing.
It came over Victoria in a flash. She ran out of the house, barely dressed in all but her underwear, and ran across the yard. She shouted and screamed and flailed her arms about in the air, trying to attract the dragons attention. It wanted a fight, she ’ d give it one. But the dragon flew off, starting to crest the horizon and drift out of sight. Victoria ran even harder, barefooted, the mud, rocks, and sticks cutting her bare feet, but only for a moment. Wind started to soar through Victoria ’ s hair and goosebumps popped up along her limbs.
The fire was long gone and all that remained was a blur of stars, the surprisingly bright light of the moon, and a blur of red-green in the distance. Victoria tried to blink, but her eyes no longer did so. She felt different as she flew through the night sky. She should have been shivering and cold, but her belly felt comfortably warm, the rest of her neither cold nor hot. The longer she flew, the odder she felt. It was as if she could take in the world in a whole new way. The night no longer seemed so dark. In fact, it felt as if it revealed more than the daylight ever did. People couldn ’ t hide so well in the dark.
The red-green blur slowly started to come more into focus as Victoria felt her eyes start to bulge. Pain erupted in her back. But pain was different now. It gave her more power, more drive. She could feels her nails sharpening, becoming as hard as diamonds, larger than knives. She no longer felt the wind on her skin. She wasn ’ t even sure she had skin anymore as the moonlight reflected off of her silver scales.
She had almost caught up with the dragon when she saw the lights of a small mining town coming into view. She knew what it wanted to do. But she also knew she could stop it. Her stomach began to growl. And the only thing she craved was flesh and meat. The fresher the better. Her mouth felt odd, her teeth more spiked, her tongue somehow thinner and more flexible. She could feel the power of her wings beating, giving her the extra push she needed to fight the dragon. Heartburn like she never knew started to happen before she vomited. But vomit didn ’ t come out. Only a deadly spire of flame.
Suddenly she collided with the dragon and they went spiraling down through the air towards the trees on the outskirts of the town. A huge crater appeared where they landed, sending a deafening sound through the village and flattening the trees around them.
Victoria was stark naked, her clothes burned to nothingness. A pond laid nearby, reflecting her image so she could see herself. Her entire body was covered in silver-white scales, radiating the light of the moon. Two large wings protruded from her back, large claws extending from her fingertips. Her eyes were bugged out and huge, her teeth crooked and her tongue forked and slithering like a snake ’ s. The red-green dragon slowly lifted itself to the ground in the background.
“ Time for you to die! ” Victoria shouted to the dragon. She charged right at it, choosing to headbutt the dragon. The dragon breathed a huge flame of fire which she ran straight through, uncharred. Her head collided without even an ounce of pain and the dragon stumbled backwards.
Victoria used her claws next, slicing at the dragon ’ s exposed belly, feeling its flesh rip and licking her lips all the while, ready to feast. Her stomach grumbled, begged to have some sort of meat. She stuck her tongue out, trying to catch the droplets of the dragon ’ s blood. Suddenly the dragon swatted at her with one of its large paws and she was sent flying backwards. The trees broke in half as she was thrown into them before she finally came to a stop against a rather large Oak tree.
Her wings beat and she let out a gigantic roar as she stood up. A gaseous feeling came about in her stomach and she felt herself about to burp. As she did, what came out was not flame but a bright white light which sparkled all around. She imagined that anyone else would have been blinded by it. The dragon sent a burst of orange, yellow light back at her and the two attacks connected, swirled for a minute, then exploded.
The dragon beat its giant wings and flew off into the distance as Victoria panted, unable to escape the explosion. Something about it felt final, deadly to anything in its path. The freshly made clearing lit up with a bright white-yellow burst of fire as Victoria felt herself being tackled and pushed out of the way.
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[ WP ] Time travel exists but laws prevent you from going back to before time travel existed . One day while traveling you end up slighter further back than expected ...
| *Dear Mr. Lewis,
This Communication is to inform you that On July 14, 2097, the Commission for Time Travel feasibly assessment has APPROVED your request for time travel to 1:54 PM on September 13, 2054. Please Fill out form T-1-452 and send it to the Causality committee for further approvals.
Regards,
A. Hopkins
Time Travel Feasibility Committee*
_____________________________________
*Dear Mr. Lewis,
We hereby inform you that on August 24, 2098, The Causality Committee has reviewed your form T-1-452 and concludes that your trip as stated does poses a casualty risk level C ( MANAGEABLE ) and paradox Risk Level B ( LOW CONCERN ). Please submit Form TT_27A-1 to the Worldwide Federal Time Travel Bureau ( WWTTB ) for final review and date assignment.
Sincerely,
J. Reid
Time Travel Casualty Committee*
_______________________________
*Dear Mr. Lewis,
This letter is intended to inform you that after review of your submitted form TT_27A-1, On February 28, 2099 your request for time travel has been APPROVED, under the following restrictions:
1. You must not travel any further back then 1:54 PM on September 13, 2054.
2. The total time of your trip must not exceed 43 minutes, and the return bracelet will be calibrated as such.
3. Your departure will take place on December 11, 2099 at 14:30 hours, as per our time travel schedules. Your return time will be set at 15:13 as per the duration of your trip.
4. Your bracelet is equipped with a technology that will knock you unconscious in case of a possible paradox and you will be attired as a time accurate tourist.
5. No financial transactions will be allowed, and you will also be prevented from gambling or entering banks and/or financial institution in general.
6. You must pay the sum of US $ 1,137,502 before June 11, 2099. Please contact the accounts department to discuss the details.
7. You will be provided with US $ 1,500 in time accurate currency for your expenses. Please give it all away in case of mugging or assault of any kind.
8. Your signature below implies an agreement to our terms and conditions.
9. Your time travel technician is Mrs. Rachel Parker. Enclosed are the location details for you time travel
We hope you are successful in your Endeavour and thank you for your patience.
Sincerely,
A. Smith
Application Reviews
Worldwide Time travel Bureau*
_______________________________
'Well it all seems to be in order, Mr. Lewis. Please stand by while I get your bracelet.''
`` Thank you very much''
Mrs. Parker was a very pretty girl, such a shame; I could only hope her injury would n't be permanent. She came back a moment after with the bracelet.
`` OK, it's now set and locked to send you back automatically at 2:37 PM. Remember that.''
`` Understood''
I thought about the paper in my chest, the real document, the one that said 2:27 PM. But displacement time and traffic required the false 2:37 PM timestamp.
`` Now please sit here. I'll go to the booth and set the machine to 1:54 P.M. September 13, 2054. It's now 2:24 PM, so your trip will start in exactly six minutes.''
She walked to the booth and left the door slightly opened, as expected. I opened it and knocked her out with the fire extinguisher once she was about to apply the settings. I had less than a minute before the security officer came to check if everything was OK, so I could only set the Departure time to 2:26 PM and arrival at 1:44 PM, 4 minutes before the discovery of time travel and legal backwards limit, and jumped into the machine, just in time to see the official walking in. Nothing else he could do, and my 53 minute allocation was the time limit for the retrieval decision, so the board would not do anything but wait for my return.
I paid a passerby 1,500 dollars for his motorcycle and started driving. At top speed it took exactly 36 minutes to get to the white building. 2:20 PM. I walked in, ignoring the security officers, doctors and nurses, and rushed to room 316. I kissed her on the forehead, one last time. She woke up and slightly opened her eyes. 2:24 PM
`` You made it!''
`` Yes Honey, I made it. I'm here. I love you''
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[ WP ] You live in a statistically opposite world . If normally 1/5 people had the common cold , now 4/5 people do , if any house had a 1/200 chance of burning down while the owners were away , there is now a 199/200 chance it happening .
| Its a blessing and a curse.
I was n't the brightest child, and that combined with coming from a upper-class white family did n't give me many options as far as careers went. I dreamt of being a janitor all throughout elementary school, but as I got further into my life I had to become more realistic. I knew I'd probably end up as an astronaut, but was able to work hard and made heart-surgeon instead
I took the rounded piece of wet sponge that I'd just saturated with dirty, disease filled-water and rust. I made the incision over his chest, simultaneously setting the patient's chest on fire and causing arcs of electricity to shoot through the room, most of the lightning was absorbed into a piece of rubber kept in operating rooms just for that purpose. The patient's breathing caused his ribs to break themselves and I threw a badger into his chest to safely remove the lungs. I took out the pink, beating heart from his chest and replaced it with the healthier, brown, crusty one that had been pulled out of a pig and drenched in motor oil a couple days ago.
Judging by the statistics, He has to live!
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[ WP ] Advanced alien life exists , but Humanity has never found any . This is intentional .
| I light the end of my cigarette to celebrate my new accomplishment. My wife knocks on the door. “ Are you smoking in the house? ” She asks.
“ I ’ m celebrating. ” I swivel around in my chair to face her. `` You know how NASA has been on my ass about designing a space shuttle that can carry four men to Mars? Well I just finished the blueprints! ”
She walks over to my desk and glances over my shoulder. “ That ’ s wonderful,'' she says. `` But I thought you gave up on that. Every time you got frustrated with those designs, you would drink yourself silly and waddle around the house shouting ‘ if man was supposed to live on Mars, then God would have put us there! ” She laughed.
I smiled and took a drag from my cigarette. “ Imagine where the world will be in a few years. The birth rate is higher than the death rate. Eventually, Earth will be overpopulated. If you ask me, it is rather brilliant to live life off the planet. With us, we will bring our knowledge. We ’ ll continue to build monuments, grow food, explore the universe... ”
My wife struts around my chair and studies the blueprints. She picks one up and holds it close to her face. “ There ’ s no doubt that we will also be bringing with us pollution, war, and disease,'' she says. `` Who ’ s to say we won ’ t destroy Mars too? ”
I drop my cigarette in the ash tray and stand up to stretch my arms to the ceiling. “ We haven ’ t destroyed Earth. It ’ s just getting too... cramped. ”
She shuffles through the blueprints, inspecting each one closely. “ And what will happen when Mars gets too... cramped? Are we just going to hop from planet to planet until everywhere is too overpopulated to live? ”
I laugh and walk out of my office. “ Sweetie, that ’ s somebody else ’ s problem. ” I enter the kitchen and grab a beer from the fridge. I take a long chug when I hear the sound of liquid being poured in my office. I laugh again. “ Pouring yourself a drink too? ” I walk back to my office to see my wife dumping my brandy all over my desk.
“ Maybe I wasn ’ t making myself clear, ” she says. Before I can speak, she drops my still lit cigarette on the blueprints. The whole desk lights up in a blaze.
“ Julie, what the hell are you doing?! ” I scream at her. I try to step forward but before I do, Julie raises the revolver that I keep in my top drawer and fires. The gun doesn ’ t make a sound, but I feel the cold bullet push through my gut. I slowly raise my hands to my stomach. The shock brings me to my knees. I open my mouth to talk but no words come out, only blood.
Julie lowers her arm and turns to watch the blueprints burn. “ I will not allow you to bring your selfish ways to other planets. You will not be destroying them with your war and pollution and sickness. ”
I fall over on my side. I can feel the carpet beneath me begin to soak. My life slowly drains out of me and into a puddle. I don ’ t have the strength to look at her. I can only see my designs burn to ash.
Julie slowly walks over to me. She places her hand on my cheek. “ Im not asking you to understand. After all... ” She leans in and whispers the last words I will ever hear:
“ You ’ re only human. ”
|
[ WP ] Someone , somewhere , someone pushed the red button .
| Lieutenant Aknor, Second Class, roused himself from his reverie when a little red button started beeping beneath his reclined tentacles and interrupting his daydream of Orilana and her Mendacious Purple Pusillanimous Orbs. Pushing himself to a seated position, he straightened his uniform and squinted at the glowing button identified as B3. Given this menial yet well-paying job by his nepotistic father, the Commandant of the Fifth Orbital Fleet of Gliese IV, Lieutentant Aknor had no clue what that infernal beeping meant. Grabbing a dusty manual called Gliese IV Autonomous Perimeter Intercept, he riffled to the section marked Primary Sensor B3.
* “ Sensor B3 is triggered by intrusion into geosynchronous orbit by unidentified or malfunctioning objects of mass 5 kg or smaller. Press button C3 for automated retrieval or D3 for targeted destruction by the Automated Orbiting Defense Platform. ” *
If it was automated, he wondered for the umpteenth time why he had to be stationed here in high orbit a week at a time away from his friends planetside. Well, friend. Well, at least Orilana was very receptive when he showed up on payday with his large wad of credits.
He pushed D3 hoping for a quick return to a dreamy Orilana, but the button cracked and emitted copious sparks and acrid smoke. He would have to file form Z3 to have that button repaired. Sensor button B3 kept up its grating racket. He sighed in resignation and pressed C3. Clunk. That silenced B3 finally.
“ Automated retrieval started, ” intoned the comm link from an equally bored sentience aboard the Automated Orbiting Defense Platform. “ Suggest decontamination Procedure K3. ”
Ha, no time for that. He had barely five minutes before its arrival, and hence had barely imagined Orilana ’ s clothes off when another klaxon blared.
“ Anomalous object deposited in Hangar H3. ”
Aknor waddled over to the door for Hangar H3 which was specifically sized for items 5 kg or less. He didn ’ t bother with decontamination since that would take at least 30 minutes of mind-numbing button presses to process each of the 50 stages of the decon procedure. Besides, he could just jab the Eject button and send the thing to a fiery reentry. Quick and efficient.
Entering the hangar, he smelled a sickly sweet scent. The mysterious gray metallic object lay there unmoving. His index tentacle hovered over the Eject button. Seeing markings on its underside, Aknor lifted it with his portly tentacles and sniffed it cautiously. Then peered at the alien lettering which showed “ NASA ” though neither Aknor nor any of his kind could read the cryptic alien symbols. He dropped it with a clatter, and ran to the console and punched button F3 which was the one button he remembered since it was drilled into his head. It alerted the Fifth Fleet of an alien threat and set the military machine into frenzied motion.
Scientists quickly quarantined the device and determined it was a probe from an alien civilization without proper warp technology. The probe ’ s engines were a crude dirty-warp design which allowed for mere light-speed travel, but emitted such copious amounts of radiation that it could not be used for colony transport much to their relief. Normally they were able to identify and intercept alien worlds prior to their development of any form of warp.
The probe itself was still trying to send data back home when they destroyed it out of abundant caution. The scientists calculated the probe ’ s trajectory prior to intercept, and correlated it with the path the signals were directed. Thus informed of the originating star, Aknor ’ s father led the Fifth Fleet to investigate and destroy the aliens ’ home world. It was standard procedure to stamp out all alien civilizations before they inevitably came to blows for resources. This offensive stance was what kept Aknor and his people alive for millennia.
Upon arrival, the Fifth Fleet found the originating world, the third planet from the star, now devoid of life. Astrometric readings indicated the star had ignited its red giant sequence early and had engulfed the inner planets which were mere burning shells of themselves. Other than a few primitive probes on a handful of cold moons, there was no trace of the aliens. The star had already completed the work the Fifth Fleet was ready to do, but they still came home as victorious champions once again.
At the planetary victory celebration in their capital, Aknor felt ill. He had never liked their extermination policy, but who was he to object? He hugged his father, and thus unknowingly transmitted the engineered alien virus he picked up from smelling the original probe.
In time, it infected their entire society in secret. And a few years later, the virus activated itself and quickly transformed his people into a race of naked monkeys called humans. The humans looked far and wide, but never were able to find their birth world now utterly consumed by the red giant.
[ Wrote this on the tail end of a different prompt yesterday, but it's apropos here, too. ]
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[ WP ] Write a story where the bad guy is really the good guy but it 's only revealed on the last line
| `` Alright, with the 50 thousand gallons of our latest solution, we have more than enough to infect the water supply of the majority of New York and its surrounding municipalities'' said Johnson. `` Within hours it will be in the taps of at least 10 million people.''
`` ITS NOT ENOUGH,'' shouted the Plumber, `` we need more; in every major city, in every ghetto, in every suburb. We need to spread it everywhere we can. If it is an isolated release, we wo n't have enough time to infect the rest before someone catches on.''
As he paced around the dimly lit room, brow furrowed beneath his hand, a broken cigarette hanging from his mouth, the Plumber finally realized what needed to be done. `` We have to make it airborne. There is no other way. This must be carried out completely and quickly.''
`` That... might actually work...,'' muttered Johnson as he started scribbling math on a stray piece of paper, `` It'll have to be dropped from a high altitude, but it will also be carried by wind currents.''
`` Let's do it. The 2nd D-Day is now upon the world.'' The Plumber turns around and stares out the window to take in the current state of the world as he lights up his last good cigarette. `` I just hope the solution is strong enough to reverse the widespread chromosomal damage, not just prevent it.''
Edit: this is my first time ever responding or participating in a Writing Prompt thread. I'd appreciate any and all feedback or comments. Thanks!
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[ EU ] The Dragonborn has finally died . Unfortunately , he 's sold his soul to ALL the Daedric Princes .
| In a stone keep west of Kalkreth looking over the lake a hero lies on his death bed. Surrounded by a teary family and a worlds worth of treasure he utters his last words.
`` My scales are brittle, my horns are broken, and my feathers are grey. You have no reason to be upset over an old man my boy.'' The Nordling kneeling beside his father cleared his eyes
`` You're still my pa...'' He sniffed.
`` I know I want you to have this'' the old man raised his bone thin to his chest and reached under his shirt and pulled out an amulet of Talos. A middle aged Nordic woman helped him remove it.
`` Thank you. Son, this is yours now. Keep it safe and what ever you do do n't lose it'' the Nord boy carefully took it scales and talons crumbling from his father hands as he did. The Argonians voice became soft and raspy
`` This is it then? May Talos take me... Good buy my son, thuum gdragonborn With that the dragonborn died, his followers left his son to morne before the funeral.
In that day enemies put their differances a side. From the shadows the dark brother hood and thieves guild watched, along the beach of the lake stood the students and teachers of the collage, and the battle brothers of the companions along with the surviving yarls who the dragonborn survived under.
`` We owe everything to the dragonborn, while we not all of us maybe friends we can agree that we would n't be here if not for their heroics. They may have been argonian, they where a true a nord and worth of their divine given title.'' The yarl of Falkreth finished his speech
`` Thuum guide you.'' Said the dragonborn's son.
`` Thuum guide you.'' Choired the crowd
Night fell and the fire had died, the dragon borns ashes where spread over the hill side and his favourite set of armour was buried under his grave stone. His son still there, braving the cold.
`` You should come inside boy. This cold will the death of you.'' Said the nord woman. Walking over to the grave
`` I understand how much you miss him but you ca n't stay out here like this.'' The boy stayed quiet, clutching his amulet.
She sighed `` I'm sorry, here this will keep you warm for now but do n't make us too worried.'' She removed her cloak and wrapped it over the boy beofre disappearing back into the keep. The world around the grave started to get darker.
`` Are you alone now boy?'' Rang out a voice. The boy turned and looked up at a large sqiud like eye froming around a portal.
`` Hello Nord. I am Hermaus Mora. Deadric prince of knowledge. You must be the dragonborn's son... Odd I was expecting more scales, but no matter you're the only one who can summon him now.'' More eyes faded in and out of view as a look of fear grew over the Nordlings face
`` What do you mean?'' He said rising to his feet.
`` Your father may have been devoted to Talos but his souls was to be mine uppom death.'' Beofre the Nordchild could talk a figure walked from the dark, guarded by a flock of large black birds.
`` Not quite Mora. The dragon born is to surve me.''
`` Well it appears that the boys father was quite the fickle being.'' Another portal opened and brightly dressed figure waltzed through.
`` Oh you do n't even know what you're talking about Mora me old boy! You know for a Deadric prince of knowledge you're quite the shut in, do n't even keep a giant squid eye on your minions.ah hah!'' Hermaus Mora scouled.
`` Oh yes the Deadric prince of madness and snarky comments. How are you Sheogorath?'' Asked Nocturn
`` I'd be alot better if me minions did n't cheat on me. Say what's the child doing here?''
`` That is the dragonborn's son, and I suggest we convince him to summon my dragonborn beofre any of the other turn up to claim him'' Said Mora
`` Oh right. Hey there cub how about you summon your dad from the dead so we can have a bit if a catch up?'' The child held the amulet close and looked for help, but it was dark on all sides.
`` Do it child, this is n't for you to deal with.'' The child timidly placed the amulet on the grave.
`` Help me father'' Slowly a figure formed. Garbed in a set of ebony plates with a silver great sword slung over his shoulder.
`` What are you doing son? I told you to keep the amulet.'' The figure looked up from his son and faced the three Deadra. He slowly wrapped a spcertal arm around the boy
`` What do you want?''
`` We want you dragonborn. You made a deal with me'' said Mora
`` And me.''
`` And I'' said both Sheogowrath and Nocturne.
`` That's true, I've also made deals with the others and the devines too.''
`` This is madness! You do this to me and do n't even have any cheese for your old friend.''
`` Shut up Sheo! Look, dragonborn yiu made a deal with all of us. We gave yiu powers and artifacts if you surved us once you had died. We ca n't let this be ignored.'' Said Nocturne.
`` I onto have one soul its not like you can all have it. Besides what's one soul worth?'' Asked the dragonborn. The three turned to each other
`` He has a point.'' Said Mora
`` I have an idea. We have you powers so how about returning the favour and if you do we'll tell the others that you've been cliamed'' Said Nocturne.
`` And as a free a bounus we'll leave the child alone.'' Said Sheogorath
`` Fine, its a deal.'' Said the dragonborn
`` I'll have his knowledge.'' Said Mora
`` I'll have his cunning'' said Nocturne
`` I'll have his cunn- oh you beat me to it, fine I'll take his strength.'' Said Sheogorath.
The three opened their portals from whence they came.
`` Not exactly what I was expecting, I needed to replace Mriaak.''
`` Face it Mora, he was useless. For all your eyes his plan was shot sighted.'' Said Sheogorath.
`` I hope this never happens agian, I think I've already had as much of you as I can take.'' Said Nocturne.
The three vanished and the darkness faded back into the night. The young nord looked up at his fathers spectre and he looked back.
`` Do n't deal with Deadera my boy, its both worth it. I have to go now, sovenregaurd calls and they're expecting me. I'll be watching over your battles son. Thuum guide you.'' The spectre hung the amulet over the boys neck and embraced him for a moment. He stood up and walked, his son watching as his father's spectre faded.
`` Goodbye pa.'' Said the boy.
|
[ WP ] A group of toy soldiers are forced to murder each other every day in horrific fashions for the entertainment of a child
| Shots were getting fired right above my head, I was literally dodging bullets.
`` It's hell on earth'', James remarked.
I turned my eyes as far as I could to look at him. A grim smile was plastered on his face. He was firmly clutching his weapon.
`` Stop trying to sound like a badass, I can see right past it. I know you're just as afraid as I am.''
He was. I've known James long enough to tell when he was faking courage. We've been through so many battles together, somehow surviving all them, to the point where I feel we were connected by soul. But the battlefield has a tendency of instilling a deep fear in your mind regardless of how many times you face it. A fear that is anchored in you, never budging.
`` Yeah right, speak for yourself brother. I fought in many wars, it does n't even faze me anymore.''
I wish it worked like a muscle. Repetitive stress would make it stronger, and soon the same exercise will cease to make it sore the next day. But this was a whole different experience. Imagine having the most stressful job that can possibly exist. A boss whose hand is constantly on your back, and not in a supportive manner. One who controls your every move, who makes childish requests and does n't take into consideration the comfort of his employees. Not one bit of empathy from this man-child. And when he's done with you, he will toss you in a square box like a used tissue. A box that's overflowing with soulless bodies, mutilated corpses, severed limbs, some of which are still clasping the weapon that killed their kind. And they were all eerily still, their eyes wide open, almost like they had sleep paralysis, and their mouths stuck in an infinite voiceless scream.
`` How do you manage to cope? ``, I replied, absent minded.
`` It's quite simple actually. Since you do n't have a choice, just do it on autopilot. In the meantime, let your mind wander elsewhere.''
Autopilot huh? He had a point. We have no choice. No control over our bodies. Yet, we are aware. What's the point of being granted free will if your body wo n't comply? Is there a purpose, a higher call? As I was pondering these questions, I feel my legs start to move. I'm running towards the enemy base.
`` Why am I killing my brethren? ``, I say as I shoot an enemy soldier in the chest.
`` They are n't the enemies, are they? We all end up in the same box at night. ``, I realize as my helmet is knocked off by a flying bullet.
`` When will this meaningless existence come to an end? ``, I yell as another bullet pierces my heart.
`` How do I cope?''
I fall to the ground, laying on my back, my eyes facing the roof. A beige concrete sky. I'm about to pass out. I must have done something awful in my previous life to deserve such an afterlife. I tried so hard to think of what monstrosity I must have been, what unspeakable sin I must have committed, but nothing ever comes to mind. Just the day in day out horror of this absurd existence.
`` That's enough for today'', he says as he reaches his hand to grab me. In doing so, I catch a glimpse of his face. He had an oblivious smile that stretched from ear to ear. I was suddenly filled with an intense rage. I abhorred this smile, more than anything in the world. More than this imprisoning body. More than the horrors I witness every day.
`` He is the enemy.''
I am tossed in this box again, right next to James. Our arms are touching each other, but he already fell into torpor, and I was soon about to do the same. I try to get a hint of warmth from his body, but it's a lost cause. His body is radiating nothingness. We're soldiers, soldiers are supposed to be cold, stoic. `` He is the enemy'', I think once more. I wanted to find a way to cope, this was it. Was I strong enough to face such a formidable foe? One that beat you in every single area you could think of? It did n't matter anymore. Hatred will eat you inside, but I'd take that over self-pity any day of the week.
`` Lights out! ``, he says before covering the box.
My conscience is slowly fading away as I lay imprisoned within the confines of this body, which in turn is imprisoned within the confines of this box.
`` He is the enemy. ``, I manage to mumble before dying, for the nth time.
|
[ WP ] An aging super villain realizes that he needs an heir to continue his legacy . To find one , five young people are chosen randomly to tour his lair . The one evil enough to survive is chosen .
| The best work in the shadows.
I have come to realize, after so many years, the true masters are really never known. I have never come face to face with The Protector, our paths never crossed. And yet, he and I are two sides of the same coin. Two forces, constantly turning in the air, waiting for the result to fall. He is the light, always seen, always warm... always welcomed. And yet, his light can never penetrate my darkness enough to see my face. The Shadows... often ignored... until they are gone.
But that is the problem, is n't it? I can never be known, I'm never seen. I do what I do for the thrill of chaos, using the unfortunate masses because, honestly, the power should not be trusted to anyone else. I alone, The Great Manipulator, should be trusted, giving people freedom from the problems that The Light brings. But to not be known does purpose a problem.
I am older. Maybe not what you would consider `` old'', like that of a grandfather, but I am a man, and I feel Father Time slowly taking what Mother Nature gave me. Being alone, preferred, means I do not have someone to continue my work if I were to pass before my work completed, before the world could be free to embrace the Chaos.
The Protector has had his time as a mentor, providing other cities now with pieces of himself in the form of young men and women who have learned the warmth of the light, and yet not realizing the pressures it brings. There is no pressure in the dark, no one can see you to judge you. In the light, every moment is judged, and thus every day becomes scripted, to protect yourself from those with gavel in hand.
I now look at the potential in front of me, for the first time. The silence must be deafening to them. I have forgotten what it was like to be on a schedule, a victim of the concept of time. But they do not show their impatience, if they feel it at all. These five... they are use to the shadows, alone. But are they shunned to the darkness, or do they find themselves there on there own accord.
I look over The Five, neither of them a like, all of them the same. Burned, like me, and now seeking comfort. To them, they want to belong. To me, I want to survive my death in the actions of another.
`` Jacob Hunter''. My voice echos. I had almost forgotten what it sounded like.
The young man step forward. His attire made his face difficult to see behind the black hoodie. His jeans were tight and short, as if he has n't been given new clothes. The brown hair stuck out from under the hood just enough to tell.
`` Remove your hood....''
Jacob, after a brief hesitation, removed his hood to reveal green eyes and a young face. The face, however, was scared. Not by physical harm, but that of emotion. He was hardened as a young child, and has never known a gentle touch.
You can tell a lot about people when you study them long enough. It takes less time the more you study.
`` Emily Webb.''
Emily Webb stepped forward. I could tell almost instantly the hells her life has handed her. Her walk, the distance in her eyes, the way her hands protected herself, unknowing to even herself. Black hair and black eyes, typical from her ethnicity.
`` Hannah Crawford.''
As she stepped forward, I understood her almost less. She did n't belong here, yet every algorithm said she did. No childhood pain, but was n't protected. Blonde hair, blue eyes, she'd be a great Adolph Child. She seems like the type to be surrounded, but somehow, here she is. A child of darkness. Her young beauty almost makes me feel guilty.
`` Michael Kim.''
A walking stereotype. His intelligence may not be in the top 1 %, but his work ethic makes up for his father's demandings. What's more, he can look at a computer and find 10 ways to hack it from a Nokia 1260. You stare at a screen long enough, you forget to look at people. People ca n't look at you. Forgotten.
`` Sara Ayann.''
The only negative is her being tied down by her religion. But she was raised in, raised by, and surrounded by hate. Hate, at the end of the day, is a poison. It kills the soul. And her's was firmly based, rooted, in the hate of an old pedophile prophet for his own people.
Each of these young ones in front of me have the potential. The algorithm was tuned perfectly. Each have their own story. And none of them really know why they are here.
`` You do not know who I am... but you have seen my work across your city. I go by many names.... The Great Manipulator... The Shadows... The Boss for those without the knowledge to know otherwise. My real name....''
I had to pause... for I had forgotten. You separate yourself long enough, things like these are easily forgotten. I have pulled strings for so long... ah yes.
`` My real name, the one I have chosen for myself, is the Puppetmaster. The names I have called you today will no longer be used. At the end, you will become who you were always meant to be. If that happens to correlate with your survival, you will choose your own name as my apprentice.''
The five just stood there. Brave. One was almost welcoming of the idea of death, which is of course concerning.
`` Once these doors open, you will advance into the dark heart of The Shadows, where not even the most loyal have been allowed. None of you will leave. All but one will die. And it will all depend on your own choices.''
I backed away into the building, and watched as the five, willingly, walked into the Factory of Nightmares. The darkness calls them. Four will be swept by it, and one will be embraced. As an Old Friend.
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[ WP ] `` Ayy Lmao '' is actually a declaration of war in an alien species . One day , NASA starts receiving `` Ayy lmao '' signals .
| *Recording from NASA archives*
*September 16th 2015*
*18:05*
`` Uh, sir?''
`` Yes?''
`` I'm getting some weird signals.''
*Plays signal out loud.'Ayy Lmao' is clearly heard*
`` It's those damn Russian kids again. Remember last time?
`` Yea, did n't they play a porn video?''
`` Yes. I would n't give this a second thought.''
`` Alright boss''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
`` Sir, I traced and double checked the trace. It's not Russians. In fact, it's not coming anywhere in our solar system.''
`` What are you implying son?''
`` I do n't want to sound crazy, but I think it's aliens.''
`` And they just so happen to share a catch phrase with us?''
`` I do n't know what else it could be.''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
`` Oh shit.''
`` What?''
`` International Space Station was just hit by an unknown source.''
`` Do they have any clues as to what it could be?''
`` No, but one of the astronauts says he could've sworn he heard'Ayy lmao.'''
*At the time of the playing of this recording, humanity is rebuilding itself from the destruction that the LMAO aliens did. *
|
[ WP ] Everyone has a guardian angel , but yours is killed by a demon . Fortunately it takes pity on you , and becomes the first guardian demon .
| The mess of milky porcelain, feathers and light tumbled to earth, grappled by a being of fire who had dug its claws into the beautiful thing ’ s shoulders, leaving smoking streaks that looked like chains. Its arm bent under its torso, it looked up at him and croaked, “ You weren ’ t supposed to see this ” before sputtering golden blood.
The short, thin smoke and fire thing had curled up and turned away, but its interest was piqued. It affixed itself to his shoulders with the still-bloodied claws and whispered. Over the next days, the world seemed to rush past, cars and people just blurring points of light until, her. It dug its claws in harder, he burned from the shoulders. His only reprieve was when it tasted his ear with a long, prehensile tongue. He sweat and he shook, there were bags around his eyes from lack of sleep. She scoffed and turned away. Closer than it had ever been, it hissed, “ Take her. ”
|
[ OT ] SatChat : Who are your favorite characters you 've written and why ?
| My favorite character I've written is Jason Flint. He's a pretty average 16 year old kid - the least likely football player ( he's a running back, but because he's not totally beefed up, people make fun of him ), flirty and laid back. Your typical stoner kid who tries to be hard, but is really just a pain in the butt. He has a minimum wage job and is trying to understand the secrets of having a girlfriend...
But all that comes to a halt when his little brother is kidnapped. Although I've never established if they find him dead or not, it's heavily hinted that there's pretty much no hope that he's going to be found alive.
He becomes depressed. Stops going to school, stops going to work, breaks up with his girlfriend and just tries to cope with his new life of confusion and pity. Eventually he asks his therapist if getting away from the scene of the crime would be helpful. When they agree, that yes, it could help - he decides that when he moves into the new state, to lie about his past. He denies ever having a little brother and the trauma he's faced.
He becomes a ghost of who he used to be...
It's interesting to explore a character that lies about everything and especially interesting to write about what happens when you lose a sibling, rather than a child.
|
[ WP ] You have the intriguing ability to step into the body and gain the memories of anyone you are near . You 've lost your own body years ago , but tell us about one of your favorite adventures .
| Today, you are going to hear a story. Because a long time ago, when I could still make people laugh, I could change someone ’ s world. And I like those kinds of stories.
A long time ago, in a land across seas, I came upon a train station. It was a creature of haze; it roared and belched fire and let loose smoke that blinded you before you ever got a good look at it. I needed new eyes to see it right, and I found them in a young man on the platform. But when I cracked these eyes open, expecting a locomotive, I found instead a still-life day.
There were red tulips on the roadway and white lilies on the coffin. There was a pretty lady nailed up inside; his heart still ached for her smile. Her, a lifelong painter and short term mother.
Then our eyes opened again. There ’ s a little girl clutching at our leg. She eyed the fat black engine cast of solid iron parts. A cotton poppy was pinned to her cap. She slowed our ascent to the passenger cars. We had to tug her up the steps like a chunk of dried wood.
The engine was turning! A sharp stream of steam rose above the din and scared her. She started crying in our coat. Like so many nights before, and he did not know what to do. That painter used to know; he did not.
She could take a firm hand and outline the night sky. She ’ d show you the bears and Venus and the dog, all in one smooth stroke. And her voice would get higher until it floated away, speaking of colors and forms, all bound down to canvas.
We leaned over her mousy head. Now we were rushing through the open land. “ Now see there! It ’ s a hunter, on the trail of England ’ s greatest thief! ” She cocked her head up. “ Really? How do you know that? ” He was lost for words. But I shared with him the memories I ’ d found along my ways. The scrape with a sheriff in the west. Hearing the story of Robin Hood for the first time. And his: taking the bottle from his mother ’ s hands. “ That ’ s how all heroes look. And you need a good hero for a good story. ”
So he talked to her for all hours. I stepped back and watched from the company of an old matron across the aisle. And she laughed and cried and remembered how to be.
Many years later, I found him again. She had married and died in childbirth. He was a railroad conductor.
|
[ WP ] Scientists have developed the technology to transfer a human 's entire psyche into the body of an android . You are the first subject .
| A group of scientists huddled around a viewing window that opened into the next room. On the slab in the middle of a bank of bright lights lay a humanoid gun metal grey robot; its `` skull'' opened and exposed, wires trailing from the mass of control circuitry within.
From my post at the window through the metal grate in the wall, I could hear Dr. Mark Leonard the lead researcher speak, `` Begin upload process.'' We held our collective breath as the monitor through the glass counted down to 0.
`` Rebooting.''
The lights that studded the surface of the robot blinked out of existence as the internal computer system shut down; and glowed red and then green again a few moments later.
`` Run diagnostics,'' Dr. Leonard looked through the window into my eyes smiling slightly. Our moment was interrupted when the robot started to spastically jerk.
`` Report!'' shouted Leonard.
A jounior scientist keyed a long string of commands into the computer attached to the robot. `` Memory failure, blocks 0x51 to 0x1500031.''
Leonard looked back at me and shook his head.
The scientists standing with me at the window watched intently as the robot jerked on the slab and sparks and smoke began to pour from its `` brain''.
`` Cascade reaction, hardware failure; nodes 12 to 15.'' came the follow up report.
`` Shut it down!''
The lights on the front of the machine faded from blinking red to black. Just as the final monitor attached to the robot winked out the right ring finger twitched. A second later the phone in my pocket buzzed. I turned from the window with a small smile as Dr. Leonard walked into the room.
`` Craig.'' He shook my hand. `` Thanks again for all of your help.'' He frowned, `` I think that last power surge destroyed the hard drive containing the image of your brain.''
His frown turned to a scowl and he sighed. `` Converting it to code that will actually run on a computer should n't be that difficult.''
I nodded sadly. `` It was a good try. I only wish I could do more to help.''
We walked into the hallway, Dr. Leonard still prattling on about his failed experiment and the need to start over. I casually checked my phone, carefully keeping my face blank as I read the simple text from an unlisted number.
`` I'm in.''
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[ WP ] In the world exists beings percievable only to those nearing death , feeding on their senses , preparing them for death . However , being thoughtless creatures , they sometimes feed on healthier humans . In that case , special `` doctors '' are sent out to rid their bodies of those beings .
| I watched them creep in my front door, their shadow oozing across my floor boards. In their wake followed a smoken, ashen decay, a putrid scent of rot filled my nostrils as I watched the demons crawl closer. A product of the night, they came to kill the society that relied upon them. A wisp of smoke trailed behind clouding my vision...
Swearing to my family that my cough was only a cold, they fretted and called upon them. My smile faded when I saw the flashing lights illuminate my windows. An engine growling like a hungry beast as the thudding of leather boot heels echoed closer. My covers provided the little protection I had, as their cold fingers broke my protective barrier, I cried out in agony as the shadows collected me up. These products of the night, I succumbed too, pleading to my family with tears in my eyes as the zombies now pulled me away.
With a roar and gore, the behemoth sped off with me locked away. A demonic laugh filled my mind as the shadows morphed into faces. Their eyes sunken, shaking and sickly like a pandemic, they drug me up. My vision faded in and out as I slowly became one of them.
A faceless zombie, another product of the night, a menace of darkness, I disappeared as their siren faded away in the night. They laughed at their own insanity, a demented scowl followed me down deeper and deeper. Yet all the time could not save...
|
[ Wp ] When they first arrived and asked for ketchup , we thought nothing of it . But now they were asking for salt and they were n't taking no for an answer .
| It ’ s been five years since the day
Five years of turmoil, they didn ’ t come to play
Ketchup please, at first they said
Ketchup please, or we ’ d surely be dead
Fine, we say, our visitors pleased
Their appetite held, but more they teased
An out-held hand, a pinch of salt
A pinch will do, we find no fault
You ’ ve stayed your welcome, now please go
A pinch will do, we want no foe
More, more, more, they cried
Eyes red and swollen wide
A pinch will not do, no not quite
We want more, and we will fight
We want more of solid white
No more, you ’ ve had your fill
Kindly leave, we ’ ve paid our bill
A bill of salt and blood be paid
Your salt is fine, of the highest grade
Now we will take what we want
Your salt and blood shall make a fine restaurant
Live today, for the time has come
When the ketchup is no more than mere red gum
|
[ IP ] Alone on a Bench
| She grew up a farmer's daughter, but for the longest time her fancies of larger towns ached at her mind.
In the summer, she left me to go see the bright lights and entrancing music of the city of Brigham. In the fall, she met a man who made her heart flutter. In the spring, she was engaged.
One day, she came home to her apartment to see the man, her groom, coked out on the couch. Beside him, another woman. She went into the bedroom, returned with streaked mascara and a gun. Two rounds went into the man's head, one into the woman's.
There was n't time to pack. She retrieved her coat, left the building, and hailed a taxi.
In two days' time, she greeted her parents. The next day, she came to see me.
The next, she came to join me.
|
[ IP ] Darkness has Fallen
| It had been seven days since Saginaw erupted into panic. The thing, whatever it was landed in a brilliant flash. In the early minutes following the crash, curious spectators gathered to see what would evolve from this cosmic anomaly. The craft was a perfect sphere. Gleaming in the moonlight like a beryllium sun, it glowed a hot azure, and steamed like the kettle on Allison's stove. As if by fate, reporters soon arrived, jabbing and poking closer with their microphones and cameras, like the voice actors that roused a similar, if farcical social disturbance in October, 1938. And then, ironically, it happened. Only this time, it was real.
Allison pours the first of her two traditional pre - bath cups of tea when a knock echoes through her mahogany door. Sidling over, she eyes the peephole, finding a pale and frantic incarnation of her neighbor, Jim.
`` Allison! Allison, open up!''
Hesitant, Allison's eyes widen, as she contemplates the most logical response to this odd night call. *Just open the door, Allison. Jim's a pretty level headed guy. * After a few seconds more, she opens the door. Jim stumbles across the open edifice, drenched in sweat, and hyperventilating severely.
`` Allison! They come. They come! I just saw Jack. Through the living room window. He shot'em all! He shot Peg, and Jill, Andrew... himself! Fuck!''
`` Jim, calm down, calm down. Breathe. Hold on. Sit down.''
Allison tries to display every bit of calm that Jim is lacking. She shuts the front door, locking it promptly.
`` What is going on? ``, asks Allison.
Jim lies shivering helplessly on her brand new couch. It had taken three months to save up for that thing. *Nevermind that* thought Allison. *Someting is wrong. Something is really wrong right now and I need to know what. *
`` Jim! Jim! Listen to me! You have to calm down. Tell me what you think is going on.''
`` It's too late.''
Jim pulls a pistol from the rear of his pants and in one swift movement squeezes a single round into his temple. The silence is deafening. Jim's dead, even more pale body ( if that were possible ) now lies slumped backward, half on Allison's new couch, and half on her freshly steamed carpet. She struggles to keep her breath, and her composure, as she makes her next move. running down her hallway, past pictures of her grandfather, a former marine, she bursts across the threshold into her bedroom, flinging open her closet and grabbing a medium sized hiking back.
*I guess this bug out bag was a good idea*, she thinks, now cranking her'99 Honda accord.
*Clickclickclickclickclickclick*
`` No! Not now, not now!''
Allison tries once more to start her ancient automobile.
*Clickclickclickclickclickclick. Clickclickclickclickclickclick. *
`` Fuck! Fuck you! Piece of shit.''
Looking out of her passenger side window she notices the rest of her neighborhood for the first time. John Carpenter's home glows a brilliant fiery orange, flames licking the overcast Michigan sky, reflecting off of the snow filled clouds like pastels on a dark gray canvas. Beyond the end of her street, in the tree shrouded valley below, the unfamiliar blue glow of... something, accompanied by screams and gunshots told Allison everything she needed to know.
*On foot it is*
As dusk turned to twilight, Allison exited the car, popping a clip into her 9mm glock and chambering a round, jogging purposefully all the while.
*Head for the woods*, her father had always said. Now seemed as good a time as any.
|
[ OT ] Writing Workshop # 16 : Poetry
| **A** picture holds a thousand words,
But memories are more precious,
For they stay with you wherever you go,
Even if they're hidden.
**A** treasure buried in your skull,
Amassing its vast riches,
Taking in the scene you see,
Sometimes to be forgotten.
**Forgetting** is a wonderful tool,
As some things not need be remembered,
For memory is also a precious space,
Do not mix the trash with treasure.
**As** I grew old and my body withered,
I saw a fog come closer,
It looked at me and I begged it go,
But it still rolled closer.
So I looked at my memories and said to them,
Do n't leave. Please.
|
[ WP ] You are an expert assassin . Your next assignment is for very high stakes . You have been chosen to kill Chronos , the embodiment of time itself . The method has been left up to you , but you know you 'll have to get creative with this one .
| I sat down. Burlap, the agent said there was something wrong with this guy. Nothing obvious of course but after a while you get a feel for these sorts of things. It's a survival skill. The screen flickers on and you hear the familiar static that implies the person on the other end has a crap mic. Maybe he bought it quickly, maybe he is n't rich enough to spend big cash on something he's going to use once and throw away. There are plenty of other reasons, none of them with any good implications. I almost end the call right there. You see, we assassins, we have to pick and chose your assignments with the care of a heart surgeon. More care that that, considering it's our own lives on the line. We develop the senses of a jungle cat, the judgment of a spy on the run in Soviet Russia, the ability to quickly pick a plan and go with it, no matter how bad it gets, but also be able to fall back and have a backup plan. After you that maybe, just *maybe*, you'll be ready to decide if an assignment is safe.
As I said I was this close form ending the call. All sorts of alarm bells were ringing and nothing good could come out of this. But then I heard the words `` Hello George'' and the world froze.
That was my name. Nobody could know my name. It was all part of my previous life the life I left behind when I faked my death. I had been so careful, impeccable even. How did he know my name? I sat there staring at the screen my finger frozen inches away from clicking the button that would end the call. He pulled me out of my by being the first to talk.
`` Sorry for the use of your name Mr.Bellamy but I do n't have much time....heh... time. Anyway I'm in sort of a hurry you see. Suffice to say this will involve things that are way beyond your capabilities of understanding but believe everything I say or you will regret it. I'm only going to say this once and if you interrupt me I will kill everyone you've ever loved, everyone you've ever even talked to or said hi on the street to during your time as'George'. This will be the only time I want a response so let me know if you understand me....no do n't say anything, just nod.''
I stared at the screen. I could end the call of course. Go underground, make it impossible for them to find me and trace this call back to whoever it was who had the golden balls capable of threatening me. I could do all that and make them pay for it..... pay for every word they said and do to them exactly what they threatened to do to me. But it would take time and in that time they could kill my family. My wife, my two kids, my everything. They were probably already poised to take action if everything did n't go squeaky clean. My family...... I live for them, even died for them. They needed the insurance and a bunch of other things made it inconvenient for George to be part of the living. Regardless, all this passed through my mind amongst the raging storm of emotions struggling to burst through.
After what seemed like a few hours but was probably a few seconds I managed to eek out a nod. `` Good Mr.Bellamy, I'm glad to see we have an understanding. Now, you see im a type of god. No I'm not crazy, I'm not just another fool, I quite literally am immortal. Not my physical form of course, but in quite another way I'm able to live forever. The problem is there is n't really anything you would understand but I'll try to put it in mortal simpleton terms. You see this particular universe is taking up some space I would rather use for something else. I ca n't move it around because Chronos wo n't let me. Soooooooo, I need to you kill time. Not the metaphorical kill time that people say when they're wasting their already too short lives away but to actually kill time. Chronos. We need Chronos or the physical embodiment of time time as you say, to die. Now you might be thinking'oh I'm just a puny mortal, how am i supposed to kill time?' Worry not I'll let you know, as you're in the very unique position of being able to kill him quite easily.''
`` But before I tell you remember this. The lives of your family are in the balance. If you do n't do exactly what I say, I wo n't just kill them I'll put them through the most painful experiences I can manage as a god. Their minds will break and I'll put it back together piece by piece before repeating the whole thing again and again and again. You get the picture. So now pay special attention to what I'm about to say because this is the best part. I'm going to tell you how to kill time itself.''
And he told me. It made sense if a weird sort of way. I did n't know if anything he said was true but it did n't matter, he know my name and he knew about my family. Other than that, I had always suspected. Not seriously suspected but it had always been a little whimsy, at the back of my mind. But now I knew and knowing that I also knew what I had to do. I opened one of the many briefcases by the side of the computer, took out a glock. I think it was a glock. I do n't really remember that part too much. Anyway I took out the gun and got ready to kill chronos. It was time. Slowly, looking into the eyes of this mysterious stranger I put the gun up to my head and pulled the tirgger. Time ended.
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[ WP ] A prepper and his family evacuated to a remote bug out location . 12 months later and supplies running low he risks venturing into the outside world only to discover he has made the biggest mistake of his life .
| Kate warily opened the vault door, steeling herself for anything that might await her on the other side. They had all heard the screams, the rumbling, the deafening crashes for months on end. Who knew what would still be out there, one year after the apocalypse?
Still, they no longer had a choice. Food was running out and her family would n't survive another week. They had to go out and forage for something, anything, that could help them last just a little bit longer.
As light poured in from the outside, Kate signaled for her husband to stay back. She took a step forward, then two, then three; her handheld Geiger counter kept mercifully quiet. Suddenly, she gasped. There was something on the ground ahead of her, right at the mouth of the small cave their fallout shelter had been built into.
Kate took one more step, eyeing the form carefully. She stood there for long moments as her husband and their children cowered in the darkness of the vault. Minutes later, after the figure had showed no sign of movement, she gently prodded it with her shoe. Its head rolled off, then crumbled half to dust.
She froze. It was a corpse. Burnt to a crisp and battered by the elements, but it was recognizable as human. Her heart wrenched in her chest. It was far too small to be an adult. But thankfully, it could n't hurt her family, and that's what counted --
Her blood ran cold.
Kate quickly turned around. Her husband was there, along with her nephews, nieces, daughters and sons. 9 in total. There had always been 9. Her safety number. But now something was different, as if she'd just remembered something she should have known all along. In her initial panic, she had counted her husband. But Peter did n't count. He was n't part of the 9. They had been missing one child all along.
Kate turned back to the desiccated corpse in front of her. In horrific realization, she clasped her cheeks and screamed.
`` KEVIN!''
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[ WP/EU ] A Gamer awakens to find his world overrun with the fictional enemies he 's killed over his years of gaming . The last weapon his 'character ' used is now his to wield , explain how quickly things go to Hell .
| I sighed as pulled back my hood and regarded the officer in front of me, “ I ’ m sorry sir, I ’ m explaining this as best as I can. I had no more warning than anyone else did. ”
The cranky sergeant twitched a little as stared at me as the sounds of battle erupted around us as we stood on a flame-scorched street in downtown, the blasted remains of an ATLAS mech sparking occasionally behind me. His eyes flickered to the ribbons of metal carved from it before coming back to me, “ Look son. I went to bed in the normal world and woke up to a crazy gamer nightmare and the only thing we ’ ve seen today that hasn ’ t tried to kill, eat or step on us is you! ”
“ Well duh, ” my red-headed companion rolled her eyes, “ We ’ re the good guys. ”
I almost let out a snarky reply, but I was too busy tracking a flight of…Cliff Racers? I hated Cliff Racers. My only regret now was that I didn ’ t have any range weapons. Being a Jedi was cool, but being Shepard or the Nereverine would have been have been a whole lot more convenient.
“ Look I do appreciate you trashing that hunk of junk, but I ’ m trying to control a major situation here, ” the sergeant groused as turned to look at a heard of elephant-sized bovines make their way down the avenue, “ We don ’ t got protocol for this! SWAT is barely equipped for this and who knows when the Guard will be able to swing in! ”
He turned to me, “ And I got a ‘ Jedi ’ who has enough power to stomp a lot of what ’ s going in here. What am I supposed to do with you? ”
Kira snorted, “ How about you- “
“ DUCK! ” I screamed as blue-armored Elite smashed down atop one of the squad cars blocking the intersection. I leaped nearly 8 meters and intercepted the burning blade of the squid-faced alien with my own.
Kira was only a half second behind me and neatly decapitated the Elite with her double saber before stepping forward and blocking incoming fire from…oh boy.
“ PREPARE FOR ASCENSION! ”
I groaned as I stared down the orange-glowing eyes of Harbinger as he strode towards me, “ Really? I didn ’ t even ever really kill you did I? ”
Harbinger apparently disagreed, “ RECEIVE YOUR SALVATION THROUGH YOUR DESTRUCTION! ”
“ No, ” I snapped back as I lifted him off the ground, “ Try out the Force. It ’ s even more fun than biotics! ” Best thing about real life lightsabers? You don ’ t have to continuously beat on someone to kill them. Harbinger ’ s lower torso was freed easily by a quick throw of my saber, causing the usual disintegration.
“ Salvation through destruction? What sort of crazy talk is that? ” the sergeant gaped.
“ Crazy talk, ” I assured him, “ Now, if you ’ ll excuse me, I need to stop that dragon up there. ”
I pointed to a large black drake atop a skyscraper, swiping at…yeah. Mutalisks. I really need to find my ship, assuming it made the shift to the real world too. The sergeant didn ’ t reply as I formed a speeder from thin air and flew down the street, observing Blood Raven Space Marines and Terran Space Marines standing shoulder to shoulder, screaming at ‘ Xenos ’ and ‘ Mutants ’ as Dryders and other horrors left at them.
“ This is too crazy to be real, ” my formerly digital companion shouted in my ear as she hugged my waist.
“ You ’ re telling me, ” I shouted back, “ I just hope my wife is okay. ”
Kira slapped the back of my head and looked at me fiercely, “ What are you talking about? I ’ M YOUR WIFE! ”
Oh…Crap.
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[ WP ] In an alternate universe , the hormones associated with mood affect your appearance ; over time your personality traits become obvious at a glance .
| “ Please, Doctor, you have to fix it. ” Dr. Callenberg shook his head, unable to meet the woman ’ s eyes again. Even the memory of when she removed her sunglasses made his own begin to well up with tears.
“ Mrs. Davis, Cheryl, please calm down. I really can ’ t do anything about this. I told you that the best cure was to leave. I told you that years ago, when I did your face, when I fixed your hands. But it ’ s gone on for too long, Cheryl. There ’ s nothing medical science can do about your eyes. The only thing that can fix them is to—like I ’ ve told you every time you ’ ve come in for a consultation, I ’ ll remind you—is to leave. Pack an overnight bag and go. Change everything about your life. I know people who can help you make a clean break, even as you are right now. ”
She covered her face and thankfully closed her hollowed-out eyes, crying silently. They had never really stopped, but at least he didn ’ t need to see the constant streams of saltwater trickling down her cheeks. Dr. Callenberg could feel the empathetic misery lines deepen in his own face. He had smoothed over Cheryl ’ s misery lines years ago, one of the first surgeries he had performed for her. Unlike some of the others, it had held. It only made her face look even more unnatural—the serene smoothness of her cheeks and forehead giving lie to the dark, watery pits of her eyes. He ’ d done all he could with her mouth, which had shrunk, her lips thinning, as she held her tongue on too many of her husband ’ s secrets, even as her teeth grew from all of those false smiles. Now, with this latest change, she looked ghastly.
Until today, the only parts of her face that remained unchanged were her eyes and nose. Now, the last sign of her natural beauty was that nose; she had never lost that humble attitude, despite her husband ’ s wealth and power. It was such a reversal of the usual rich man ’ s wife, where the first job was the nose, and it had to be redone every few years.
She wiped at her face; for a moment he could see the traces of the woman she used to be. But her hands, growing gnarled once again, smeared away the makeup that gave false color to her features. “ Please, Dr. Callenberg, ” she said again, her voice an awkward, choked whisper. “ He ’ ll be coming home next week. He can ’ t see me like this. ”
Terror made her eye sockets bigger, which only enhanced the effect. The doctor swallowed uncomfortably, holding on to his temper. She needed gentle treatment, not more anger and hostility.
“ Cheryl. I told you. There is absolutely nothing, no way, that medical science can fix your face. Not anymore. Loyalty is an admirable trait, but it *has* to go both ways or it ’ s wasted. Your husband has not a shred of it in him, and has used yours against you. Cast it off. You say that if you leave, he ’ ll make your life not worth living. Look at yourself, please Cheryl. ” His voice cracked on the last words as he restrained his strong emotions. Control, more than anything, dominated his features, but behind that, kindness, empathy, and the clean, unblemished colors of honesty and confidence.
“ You can ’ t lie to your true self, Cheryl. You tried for years, and it ’ s not worked. I ’ ve helped you as best I could. But he won ’ t ever change, he won ’ t ever make you happy again. That your eyes have changed, it proves that you *know* this and have lost hope. If you don ’ t make a real change—and soon—then there ’ ll be nothing left of you to save. I can make a call, right now, and someone will be here to pick you up within an hour, no. Thirty minutes. They ’ ll help you disappear. As soon as you start feeling like yourself again, you ’ ll start looking it. I promise. ”
For the first time, Dr. Callenberg saw his words take root. It was subtle, so subtle, but her hunched shoulders lowered. Her spine straightened slightly. *Yes, * he pleased silently. *Get your backbone back. *
She swallowed, and very hesitantly asked a question. “ If … if I agree. What … do I need to do? ”
“ Just say the word, Cheryl. Say yes, and I ’ ll make this happen. I can ’ t do anything for you as a surgeon, but I think we can still save you. Just … have a little hope, have a little faith. Things can get better if you let us help. ”
Her shoulders began to tighten. Her hands wrapped around her middle and she leaned forward, rocking back and forth. She teetered on the brink of a decision and he held his breath.
“ Yes. ” For a moment, there was a glimmer of hope in the darkness of her eyes, a flash of pure diamond light. She wasn ’ t lost. Not yet.
Dr. Callenberg grinned, slumping a little with relief and feeling the gold tinge of triumph infuse his skin and hair. He restrained it. He slapped at his phone. “ Stace, cancel the rest of my afternoon and get Louville here. Immediately. ”
He reached across his desk, holding his hands palm up. “ Cheryl, you ’ ve taken the first step. In a little bit, Louville will take you away—I ’ ll come along, because I know you ’ ll need someone familiar. I ’ m here for you, and Louville will be too. Trust her, she ’ s … been in the same place as you. Look at her, when she gets here, and if you like, someday she ’ ll show you a picture of how she used to be. And please, you can call me any time, all right? ”
There was a tremulous, bewildered smile on her shrunken lips, and she rested her twisted hands in his. He squeezed gently. Cheryl had a long way to go, but she was going to take their help now.
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[ WP ] Magic exists , but the cost to use it is so high that it 's only been used a handful of times in history . This will be one of those times .
| A older teenage boy is seated at a table in an interrogation room of the FBI, his face is bruised and blooded but not from mistreatment. His IDs and credit cards are splayed across the table, the countries and businesses named are completely unknown. He sips a Coke and makes a face of disgust before sitting it down. An agent looks in at him.
`` So he was the one they found at the epicenter?'' the male agent asks.
`` yeah, he does n't show up in any database foreign or domestic. His ID was made with similar methods to a standard drivers license, with all the anti-counterfeit technology. if it were n't for the fact it's for a state called `` new whales'' i would have taken it at face value.'' The female agent says.
`` I want some time with him, maybe i can figure out where he came from.'' the male agent says with more than a little curiosity in his voice.
The agent enters the room, the teenager looks up at him. The teenager has a slight look of controlled fear but croaks out a weak `` hello''
`` Hello, I'm an agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Why do n't you tell me who you are and where you came from hmm?''
`` Uhh, okay. But the last few people I told did n't believe me.'' The teen says softly.
`` Indulge me, Your my responsibility today. I want to hear anything you have to say. Do n't hold back.'' The Agent says in a friendly tone `` tell me everything, even the most farfetched parts.
The teen looks into his eyes `` Alright then''
`` My world has magic, each person has a weak magical energy. They may be able to use it to charge their cellphone to 25 %, if they do so they will be drained of energy all day and just want a nap. Most people do n't cultivate their magical skills beyond simple things like teleporting the remote or stirring their coffee. We mostly do things the way you do though, it's more efficient to stir your coffee with a spoon than magic, and it's easier to get of your butt than to teleport it.
People who do cultivate their magic skills, do so at a great expense to their bodies. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Where a useful magical force is created, the byproduct is a negative harmful magic that causes great cellular damage. Those that practice magic, walk a dangerous line between it and necrotic death.
One day, astronomers were looking towards a signature they got from their radio telescopes, something big was moving fast towards us. There was a massive meteor headed toward our planet. Scientists gathered and plans were made, eventually a mission was created that sent 4 teams with 6 nukes to try and knock it off course. They failed and died in the effort, making the end of our world seem certain.
One day, a magic user made a proposal. He beveled that if every person put their full magical might into pushing the meteor away, it could be slowed down enough for gravity to deflect it away. So everyone trained, medical professionals created devices to detect people's limitations to prevent them from overdoing it but their were still casualties.''
The teen raises his arm, a small grain is embedded in his arm, a red light blinks `` here's mine''
The agent examines the implant `` I see, go on''
`` The scientists calculated the exact time we would need to start pushing it away, so we trained hard till that day.. It's the last thing i remember, everyone stood outside and raised our hands to the sky. We chanted words of power that we had been taught over the last few weeks.. and our magic started to merge into a pillar of force.. but then I felt the negative energy, all of the negative energy of this beam started coursing through me and then.. i woke up outside.. the nice police officer took me to you.''
The agent looks at him in the eye `` I need to make a call, feel free to ask my partner for anything you might need'' he promptly gets up and leaves the room.
the female agent touches his shoulder `` How did it go?''
he looks at her `` clearly crazy, we need to get him into a facility.'' and goes straight to his desk.
He picks up the phone and types in a phone number into the desk phone `` Colonel sir, we have one. I'm filling out the paperwork to have him'committed' now. He will be there in a while. you will need to administer amnesics to my partner.. do n't want her following up.''
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[ WP ] In a world where hauntings and paranormal activity is the norm , the world clamors when a house is found to be `` spiritless ''
| `` Check it again.'' Rick said to his partner.
`` I've checked it three times Rick.'' Beth was getting annoyed. `` There is nothing here, no trace, not even the shadow of a spirit.''
`` You know what that means then, right?'' Asked Rick.
`` Well... I know what it could mean.'' Beth said truthfully, `` I know there's only been one other house that was allegedly recorded to have no activity but that was like 2000 years ago.''
`` 4000'' said Rick.
`` And that house was apparently tied to Him.'' Beth said.
`` Right. It was tied to Him.'' Rick repeated.
`` But if that's the case then, then this will be the first recorded event in over 4000'' Beth said nervously. `` And if HE is HERE then I do n't want to be. The rumors are he's pissed again.''
`` Do you have enough data to present to the team?'' Ricked asked trying to remain calm.
`` Plenty. Now let's get outta here.'' Just as she said this the whole house started to shake. She looked at Rick with worry.
Rick ran, grabbing her arm as he passed.
`` He's here.''
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[ WP ] People are only born with one sense . The best option is if they find four teammates to accomplish everyday tasks .
| It was cleaning day in Corral Ninety, Texas. As usual, the doors of the Sight cells were the first to open. Sight-83925 got up from his bunk grudgingly and shuffled out into the corridor to join the other nineteen Sights of his block. Like a well-drilled platoon of soldiers, they began their march.
At the next block, each of the Sights lined up in front of a cell. When the doors swung open, they went inside and led their respective Touches outside by hand. Sight-83925 gave Touch-81131 a squeeze on the arm, and watched as she returned the gesture. He avoided looking into her blank eyes.
Linked this way, they headed toward their designated zone. Before they arrived however, they had to pass by the supply gate where they received their tools. Handing them out were two monstrous, black, tentacled aliens, known as Shepherds.
Since his birth nineteen years ago, they were the only authority figures Sight had ever known. Never a day went by that he did n't feel repulsed looking at them. Though the lessons said they had always been on Earth, ruling over the cattle that was mankind, Sight suspected they had come as conquerors.
Trying not to show his disgust, he guided Touch's hand toward a tattered rag. He himself took a pail. Some of the others received mops, brooms or cleaning fluids.
They spent the next hour scrubbing the walls near the cafeteria. Sight's only role was to refill the pail every now and then with fetid water from a rusty pipe. He thought he could almost imagine the boredom as a physical weight on his body.
The two of them had been working for close to seven months now. Touch reacted to his guiding hand with uncanny speed, as though she could sense his intentions. She seemed unusually cheerful today. Then again, she was cheerful almost all the time. Once, she twirled around to celebrate after scrubbing a particular stain, whipping her golden hair into his face by accident. She began giggling after that, drawing a smile from him.
When the water in the pail had gone from gray to black, he went to refill it. However, before he could empty it fully into a drain, a pair of legs collided into him and knocked him off-balance. Water splashed out as the pail went rolling away.
He leaped to his feet and shook his fist at the person responsible, an older man with a bushy beard now sprawled on the floor. The fellow was n't looking at him, but his mouth continued to move rapidly, possibly swearing in words Sight could n't hear.
His companion, however, seemed apologetic. His head was cocked to the side, and Sight realized he was listening to the pail and piecing together what had happened. Or, more likely, he was listening to his companion.
Sight's anger turned into suspicion. During Cleaning, Hearings, Smells and Tastes were n't allowed into the area for fear they would get in the way of cleaners. So what were these two doing here?
Hooking a hand under the fallen man's arm, he tugged him to his feet. The fellow nodded his thanks and continued talking. Neither were looking at him, but he had a feeling their attention was fully on him.
Feeling foolish, Sight cleared his throat and said, `` See.'' The word felt unnatural on his tongue. He wondered if it even sounded like he imagined it.
Hearing frowned and stuck his finger under his companion's nose. The man sniffed and stopped talking. The trio stood motionless for a moment. Some of the other Sight cleaners were beginning to stare. At last, Sight said, `` Why? Here?'' If only he did n't need to talk, not in front of a Hearing. The insecurity only grew with each uttered word.
Luckily for him, Hearing seemed to understand. He began speaking, but faltered halfway as he seemingly remembered who he was talking to. Instead, he dug around in the pocket of his overalls before producing a small piece of carbon and—Sight's jaw dropped—a piece of white paper. With jerky motions, he scrawled out an almost illegible word: `` Escape''.
Sight burst into laughter, earning him a glare from Hearing. How were these two planning to escape when they could n't even see where they were going? Smell, oblivious to everything that was going on, begin talking again. With a look of irritation, Hearing held the piece of paper under his nose.
`` Where? Go?'' Sight said. `` Escape? How? Who?''
`` Come along. Help us,'' Hearing wrote. Sight winced, realizing that his speech must be as bad as the man's writing.
Sight glanced at Touch, who was standing idle by the wall with a broad grin on her face. She must have finished. It was a stupid idea, but looking at her... someone like her deserved to be anywhere but trapped inside this horrible, grimy building her whole life.
`` Wait. Friend. Come with,'' he said. As he dashed toward Touch, he glanced at the alien guards. None seemed the wiser; they continued to hover almost motionlessly at their stations.
Taking Touch's hand, he led her back to the others, who had been joined by another girl. She had several brownish stains on the front of her clothes, and seemed to be munching on something. A small bag of fruit was tucked into each pocket. One of the Taste cooks, then.
`` She come?'' he said.
Hearing nodded and showed him the paper. There was a crude sketch of a humanoid figure pouring what looked like a turd into a bowl. His eyes widened. `` You. Bad food?''
With a grin, Hearing's mouth formed the words, `` Damn right.'' This time, Sight understood him perfectly.
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[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Treasure Island Edition
| This is a response I wrote to a [ prompt ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4iivd2/wp_your_on_a_stroll_through_the_woods_when_you/ ) a while ago but never posted because I could n't get the ending right. Feedback is appreciated.
-- -- -- --
Rays of sunshine shone through the green foliage overhead, dancing on the forest floor and illuminating the bugs and the spiderwebs, still wet with dew, among the thick mess of plants and tree roots.
The pitter-patter of squirrel feet could be heard echoing in the hollow trees, and the forest, alive with birdsong, rustled and swayed in the soft breeze.
Deer and foxes lay in their dens, guarding their young and watching my every move suspiciously. A variety of other forest wildlife scurried amongst the trees and the tall grasses, mostly silent, save for a twig snapping or a plant rustling or a tree branch bouncing, disturbed by their presence.
I walked along the narrow cobblestone path, mostly concealed by the undergrowth, stepping carefully lest I trip over a loose or missing stone, and enjoyed the soft hum of the forest.
The cobblestones became less and less as I walked until they ceased to exist completely, having been kicked out of the way or covered by plants and soil; a few feet beyond this point, I came upon thick door, the faded red wood suspended by scratched golden hinges in the plain, rotting wood of a door frame, protected by a skeletal face in the form of a door knocker with a rusty iron ring through its nose. Upon further inspection, I was discovered the remains of a stone foundation, covering approximately four-hundred square feet. The charred wooden plants that littered the ground indicated that the house that had once stood there had been burned down years ago.
How the door was still standing was and is still a complete mystery to me; I would be glad if one more intelligent than myself could find the cause, but for the present it remains unknown.
I walked around the rectangular foundation and quickly found myself again in front of the red door. The skull knocker stared at me, almost judgmentally, and I put my hand up to touch the round brass ring, wondering who would want something so morbid to greet their guests.
I pulled the ring outwards and let it drop down twice, sending two resounding *thuds* throughout the forest. The quiet it returned to me was extremely dreary; it seemed to silence all but the wind, which continued to blow with increasing severity. I notice the sky growing darker and decided to return home before it rained.
The next morning, I walked the perimeter of the forest behind my house until I found the cobblestone path again. I began walking down it, faster this time, not taking the time to enjoy the wildlife and the scenery as much as I had yesterday; consequently, I found the door much quicker this time.
The door had not changed much in my absence. It had, on the contrary, remained exactly the same. I suppose it was to be expected, but all the same, I had to admit that I was slightly disappointed.
Staring at the door knocker, I suddenly became aware of the eerie quiet. The animals seemed to have silence themselves completely, as had the wind. I also noted that contributing to the unsettling atmosphere where the trees seemed to be thicker together in this part of the forest, which made it darker than it perhaps should have been.
I stepped up onto the brick stairs and touched the weathered brass knob, and then I paused.
I stepped back again.
It seemed only polite to knock. Even if there were no people, or even really a house, I could n't just go in unannounced.
I lifted the shiny ring slightly and let it drop. There was no answer.
I stepped forward again and wrapped my fingers around the knob again. It turned easily, and I heard a soft click. I pushed it.
The door swing inward with a low creaking sound. I saw nothing spectacular; just the same forest I had been staring at moments earlier.
I laughed. The whole thing was just so ridiculous. I walked through the door and stood on the muddy ground and then walked around it a few times before returning home.
The next day, I again set out for the door. I have n't the slightest idea why, exactly, but I did. I just wanted to look at it again.
It was exactly like I remembered it: the golden hinges, the brass knob, the skeleton knocker, the faded red door tightly shut. I went through the door again and stood on the rotten wooden floorboards.
Exactly as I remembered it.
-- -- -- --
I used heavily descriptive language throughout to make the small changes in the house/door more subtle, the idea being that the door was sucking away the protagonist's life to build itself back up. I also toyed with idea of making it a metaphor for addiction or an abusive relationship.
I spent a while on it but ultimately gave up because I just could n't get the ending to work the way I wanted it to. I wrote several different versions but nothing felt right so I deleted them and just kept the first part.
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[ WP ] A fly on the wall begins speaking with you . He understands he will pass away soon and wants to tell you everything about his life and feelings .
| CONTINUED... FLY Part II.
`` We slept last light together under a lettuce leaf, my foreleg wrapped around her, stroking her head. So... damn happy. And believe me pal, she was too. I just could feel it radiating off of her. This morning, when we woke, we decided we needed to see more of the world together than just this house. We did n't know what was out there. We just knew that's where we needed to go. So we fly back over to the door, where I knew we came in. It was shut.'' I hang my head and say `` sorry dude.'' `` Naw, do n't beat yourself up about it, it's fine... you did n't know... so we fly around, then we see it... we see outside. And we're both flying towards it, as fast as we can go, then BAM, out of nowhere....invisible wall. 5,000 eyes, you would think I'd a seen it... we're both a bit stunned by the hit, but she gets up first, flies up against that wall and bam bam BAM just like a caged animal trying to get out, ya know and just wo n't frickin stop. I yell for her to, over and over, but she just... does n't.....stop....''
`` After awhile, she just falls down over there. That's her, laying there on her back... she has n't moved in hours....and I'm like what am I gon na do? She's my fricken world and I just found her and now I've already LOST her. Lost... HER. My whole flippin universe, and now... lost....I been crying my eyes out buddy, it frickin' HURTS! Dammit, life is just NOT FAIR...''
`` And then, buddy, I hear you. Yelling at your old lady, and her yelling back at you over nuthin'. NUTHIN! Over piddly crap. I'm over here, my world frickin' ending and this guy does n't know how good he's got it. Does n't know what he has and how SO FREAKING FRAGILE everything is... just so damn fragile man...'' His words hit me hard, and I know he's right. `` You're right little dude, I know it, it is just hard sometimes to realize it in the moment. I'm gon na go apologize.'' `` You do that buddy, you do that...''
I go in the living room where she is and just kneel down in front of her. `` I was an ass, honey and I'm sorry. Really, truly I am. We do n't need to fight, life's too short and I had to remind myself of that'' because, is she really gon na believe a fly on the windowsill just tore my heart out? Absofrickinlootly not. She says she's sorry too, that she was angry too, that it was n't worth the fighting. We're on the same team. She loves me. My heart leaps too when she gives me that cute smile and her bangs slip over her eye. `` Make-up sex?'' she whispers seductively...'' I can pencil you in...'' I say with a grin.
`` We made wild passionate love that afternoon... and nine months later, you were born.'' `` Dad, that's really gross and so damn weird...'' `` I know it is, but that's what happened.'' `` Did that fly talk to you again Dad?'' `` Well, after, I went back to that window sill... there were two flies lying on their backs together, motionless. My heart broke a bit. Too soon life had shown me just how fragile and fleeting it can be. This fly, literally just came in, changed my life, now... now he's gone... I... I got a matchbox out of the junk drawer and a piece of paper, slid the box open and put them both inside. I took the box out to the back yard and buried it. I then came back in and got the compost bucket. I got a cardboard box out of the garage and took them outside to the garden. I put the box over the bucket and left it. I went back to check on it about a week, and there was the biggest mass of fat maggots you have ever seen. My small friend would have been so proud of those wriggling things... I put the box back over them, left it for months, till the box collapsed and got sun faded. I finally put the rest on the compost pile. I think about him all the time though. Trying to remember his messages. Trying to honor what he said to me. He did n't have to. His whole world had gone, collapsed. He chose to spend that time helping me, and I'll never forget it.''
Her eyes: http: //cdn.phys.org/newman/gfx/news/hires/2013/fly.jpg
*edited for title
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[ WP ] Weaponized nightmares are a terror weapon of choice in the future , making insane and mentally unstable individuals prized commodities for various unethical organizations .
| There was the oddly soft din of explosives raining down around the foxhole. Feet of dirt muffled their impact yet this did little to comfort the soldiers who clung to their rifles and nervously eyed the walls of their refuge as they buckled and shook to the rhythm of hellfire.
None took solace in the fact that they've halted the enemy advance. Four months and the invaders had yet to gain an inch of land as their armies crashed upon the bulwark of trenches that spanned the front line. Though their nation may win the war, they were more concerned with their personal welfare. Parades of soldiers marching through the enemy capitol meant little to them if they were lying in a mass grave alongside the stinking rotting corpses of their comrades. And so they shook and cowered in the face of the enemy offensive.
This is a war fought by nightmares, said the sergeant. Among his squad he was one of the few who did not fear the enemy. We will not relent in the face of adversity. These sons-of-bitches wo n't break us if we do n't let them.
And so they remained in the foxhole, holding their guns and bracing for an impact that would not arrive. Instead the explosions died out and the soldiers went out to see the wreckage.
The bombs left small craters where they fell, smaller than their caliber would leave otherwise. The sergeant knelt right next to the smoldering hole and ran his gloved hand across the ashes as though the was hunting for something beneath. He rose his hand to his face and saw it covered not with black soot but with a neon green hue.
The hell is that? asked his comrade. The sergeant shrugged and wiped the green on the leg of his pants but it refused to rub off. It seemed to leave a permanent stain on the fabric of his glove that was itself no stranger to grime but no grime was this the sergeant reckoned. As he looked up from his glove he saw the green rise from the crater before him like the steam after a rainstorm and he quickly reached into his possibles for his gas mask before calling for his men to do the same.
Soon the entire squad was clad in thin plastic masks with grey filters that whistled a monotone tune with every nervous breath. A recruit stared at the sergeant and his wide and terrified eyes seemed to pierce the visor of his masks. He whimpered to him like a guilt ridden son whimpers to his father.
Is it a gas attack?
I do n't know. This does n't look like no gas I've seen, but caution has served me well before.
They retired to their bunks that night without incident. None came down with the tell tale sickness of chemical warfare and they rested with full confidence that survived the day unscathed.
-- -
The reinforcements breasted the hill overlooking the camp. None heard from the vanguard and the high command feared silence more than news of loss. Their approach to the camp was slow and methodical. There was no sign of battle but no sign of life either, the captain noted. A recruit yelled out for some companion met in boot camp and the captain spun around and shot him a silencing glare.
Shut your trap. I'm assessing this situation.
One by one they scanned the camps building. The armory was lifeless. The cafeteria was host only to flies who had come to claim the uneaten rations in the soldiers stead. Even the guard towers were vacant yet there was no bullet holes or craters to mark an attack. All the while not a single soldier made a sound, not even the captain as he scrutinized every crevice and corner.
Finally they came to the barracks. The captain placed his ear to the door and again heard silence. With a nod to his comrade the door was knocked clean of of its hinges and the column of soldiers entered and the captain took point and slumped his rifle to his side as the color drained from his face.
Sweet mother of God.
They were all in their beds drenched in blood and feces and dried spit. They had torn open their wrists with their teeth and nails and their mouths were covered in clotted viscera like carrion birds fresh from a sanguine feast and their bloodied faces were contorted in terror as though their flesh had twisted beneath their skin and some had hung themselves with their bedsheets while others hung over the beds of others with their rigid hands clenched around the throats of their brothers and some even had their heads dangling out of smashed window sills with necks ripped open by the shattered panes.
In the center of the carnage was the sergeant and his hands were wrapped around his face in an expression of pure terror. The captain slowly crept towards him and saw that his eyes were gouged and crushed in their sockets by his own bloody nails and the blood ran down into his mouth frozen in a state of absolute horror. From his gullet was a light whistle. He was screaming. He had screamed until his innards had eroded away like the banks of a river and still he screamed for help in a silent prayer heard only by the captain who beheld him in an equal measure of raw fear. He did not listen. He only stared into the visceral portals of the sergeant's eyes as though they could retell the terror that unfoled yet they too remained silent.
There was only the noise of the sergeant as the soldiers filed out. They did not speak. They did not check the bodies. They only filed out until only the captain and the sergeant remained. The captain put his hand to the sergeant's bloodied cheek and when he drew it back he saw his skin painted green. He backed away and joined his men at the barracks door knowing that he would see him in his dreams for nights to come in all his unforgiving brutality.
-- -
In the bowels of a distant laboratory they strapped him into the chair tightly so that he may not heard himself or others. The syringe was stuck into the back of his head and he screamed and screamed and none of the scientist cared and neither did the man in the chair for he only saw demons around him and they offered nothing. The scientist pulled back the plunger and withdrew the syringe. He stared at the green that filled the vial and saw what encapsulated victory itself. He knew that victory in a war of terror could only be found in terror itself. He stared into the verdant vial. He stared at victory.
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[ WP ] `` Perfectly symmetrical violence never solved anything . ''
| True story.
My mom always taught me to be kind to people, even if they hurt my feelings. The only time I could ever hurt someone is if they started it.
She used to say, `` You ca n't start a fight, but you can finish it.'' I always thought that sounded tough, should I ever need to use that mind set to beat the crap out of someone.
I went over to my'friend' Brenna's house, down the block. She was a real bitch, if you know what I mean. That kind of kid that was an angel in front of her parents and a totally mean brat faced bitch when her parents walked away. The kind of kid you see being mean to other kids for no reason and you just want to smack them.
Well, anyway... For no apparent reason, we were in her backyard and she decided to hit me in the head with one of those plastic kitchen phones ( you know the mini kitchen playsets ), and I decided that this was my moment to finish the fight.
I punched her square in the jaw and she started screaming and ran inside crying.
My first instinct was to run home and tell my mom before her mom got to it, first.
I went home and I was crying because of how upset I was that she hit me, and how scared I was that I would be in trouble if her mom called mine.
My mom immediately asked me what was wrong and I told her that I punched Brenna in the face. I think she was honestly satisfied, because she had been so mean to me, and her brothers have been so mean to my brother, and their parents were shitty to my parents.
She told me, `` I'm proud of you for sticking up for yourself.''
Now, I know some of you may be thinking.. Wow, that's shitty parenting. Or wow, I'm glad you punched her in the face.
But I think, if anything, I wish I could have taken that back. She did technically start it, but perfectly symmetrical violence never solved anything.
She's still a bitch and I'm still me.
|
[ MP ] Ok Go - Invincible
| Trevor was on his way to work when the invasion came. He sipped his coffee and watched with mild curiosity as dozens of ships appeared in the sky. *They look more like giant, flying birthday cakes than anything out of a sci-fi movie*, Trevor thought, as the largest birthday cake descended to the ground, landing before him.
Several strange creatures marched out in rigid formation. They were the size of baby hippos with the head of a guinea pig and the body of a penguin. All very confusing stuff. *This coffee needs more milk*. The largest of the guinea-penguins approach Trevor with a gun in its penguin-hand-fin.
`` Greetings, Earth-man! We've come to destroy this planet and enslave your people!'' Trevor sipped his coffee.
`` Normally I would n't mind, it's just that I live here and all. Maybe you could find another planet to destroy until I can find another place to stay?''
`` Silence, Earth-man!'' The leader knocked Trevor's coffee out of his hand, giving it an unnecessary kick on the ground, just to show that he meant business. `` You will all die for enslaving our ancestors!''
`` Hey. Wow. That's not cool.'' Trevor said, mourning the loss of his slightly-too-bitter coffee. `` You could have, you know, some decency about this whole thing, at the very least.''
`` Silence! We're not here to make small talk, we're here to kill you! Bring me to your leader so we can humiliate him before we kill you!'' Trevor tried salvaging what was left of his coffee, but some gravel had gotten inside the cup. He threw it away with a disappointed grimace.
`` Like, the president? I do n't know, I think he's kind of busy.'' The leader of the guinea-penguins shot a laser that whizzed past Trevor, an inch from his head. `` Alright, geez! I'll see what I can do!'' Trevor walked off, rubbing his slightly singed eyebrow.
After about twenty minutes he arrived at an old apartment building, knocking on door 406. The door opened enough for an eye to peer out, narrowing suspiciously when it saw Trevor.
`` *You*.'' A woman's voice said.
`` Hi.'' Trevor waved with his left hand, since the other was occupied by a new cup of coffee. He had stopped by Starbucks on the way here.
`` I thought I told you never to speak to me again, Trevor.'' This was true, but he thought this accounted as an emergency, thus changing the rules in that department.
`` Yes, well, you see, I did n't *want to* talk to you. It's just that there's a bunch of guinea-penguins here to enslave or kill humanity. Maybe both, I'm not really sure. They're very rude. Ruined my morning coffee and all. I got a new one though, so I'm okay.'' He held up his new coffee to verify this. `` They wanted to see the president, but he has n't been returning my calls. I thought maybe you could... talk to them?''
The door flew open and a short, woman with red curls resting on her shoulders stood in the doorway with her eyes narrowed to tiny slits.
`` What is *that* supposed to mean? You did n't want to talk to me?''
`` Uh... I did n't mean that, Annie. Of course I want to talk to you. It's just that you told me if I ever did, you'd'make me wish I would just die so that the agony of your heel up my ass would finally end'.'' Annie's eyes began to glow dangerously, burning white-hot with fury.
`` So *I'm* the bad guy, huh? Are you afraid of me, Trevor?'' At this point, Trevor was leaning back so far he could have been Neo's stunt double, yet Annie's face was inches from his.
`` Y- yes?''
`` Good!'' Annie said cheerfully, snapping back upright. `` You should be!'' Trevor's heart was pounding. He had n't been this upset since twenty minutes ago, when he realized his expectations about alien spaceship designs did not match reality.
`` So, guinea-penguins? Let's see what we can do about them.''
After a short commercial break, the couple, who were no longer a couple, arrived back at the scene of the first extraterrestrial landing on earth. Scattered on the ground were several piles of smoking ash, looking suspiciously like the remains of someone zapped by a laser.
`` Hi! I'm Annie!'' She reached out a hand to shake the hand of a guinea-penguin. He ignored the hand.
`` You are the leader of your people? *You*?''
`` Why you little bird-pig!'' She slapped him hard across the cheek, making him stagger back with a surprised look on his face. `` Trevor told me you were rude, but I *never*. You do n't think a woman can be president? Or maybe you just do n't think *I* can be president?'' The leader was in shock, rubbing his sore cheek and did not make any attempts to respond.
`` Kill her! She slapped your leader, kill the woman!'' One of them shouted. Annie spun around, directing her rage at the other guinea-penguins.
`` And *you lot*. You come here in your silly flying birthday cakes to kill us and destroy our planet? I think not!'' Annie's eyes were positively fuming with hatred. Trevor kept a comfortable distance, making sure to stay out of her sight so as to not attract any unwanted attention.
`` I told you the ships looked silly!'' One of the guinea-penguins hissed to his comrade, who in turn mumbled something about ergonomic design.
`` Where, exactly, am I going to get a decent haircut around here if you destroy the planet? Did you even *think* about that?'' Annie turned slowly, looking at each guinea-penguin in turn, daring them to meet her gaze. No one did.
`` N- no. We did not think about that.'' In the background, Trevor was scribbling something on a piece of paper. He held it up behind Annie's back.
'IT'S HER TIME OF THE MONTH. SHE GETS VERY ANGRY. YOU SHOULD LEAVE WHILE YOU STILL CAN.'
The guinea-penguins, though not entirely sure what time of the month that was, got the gist of the message. Fortunately for them, Annie noticed them staring at something behind her back and spun around to face Trevor. The moment she turned her back on them, the guinea-penguins retreated back to their birthday cakes and flew off, leaving Annie and Trevor alone.
`` *You*.'' Annie said, glaring at the sign in Trevor's trembling hand.
~
[ A little late and probably not what you were expecting, given the prompt, but there you have it!: ) ]
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[ WP ] Six feet of Earth muffled his cries .
| # # # # # # [ ] ( # dropcap )
Montador Samuel Hitch stabbed the disturbed soil with the blade of his shovel, his dark blue eyes staring out over the assembled.
`` Right then. Let this be a lesson to the lot of you. I learn any of you forcing yourself on a woman and a similar fate will fall upon you. We're supposed to be in peaceful territory; the people here are not our enemies. You want tail? Go find a whore or else wait for a siege. But I will not have a single one of you threatening our contract just because you want to dip your wick for free. Got it?''
The soldiers of Hitch's Free Company carefully avoided their leader's glare, staring down at the tattered boots and clutching feathered hats in wringing hand. Six of their number stood covered in sweat and dirt, stripped down to their loin clothes to keep from soiling their clothes with shovels in hand. They drew the short straws and so were conscripted to dig the condemned man's grave, and to fill it up again.
John Hordle, a thunder-titan of a man stood at a mere seven feet tall watching the proceedings, his powerful longbow in hand and unstrung. He wore a brassard of blue on his shoulder, a arrowhead pin in silver denoting his rank as Master of Bows.
`` Roit. You'eard the Captain. Next bastard who fucks a wench without her by leave gets exactly what's coming to him.''
Montador Samuel, dressed lightly in a jerkin of nosehorn leather nodded at his underofficer.
`` Well put, Sergeant. As for the rest of you, you're dismissed. Gin rations are doubled for today.'' That bit of news seemed to brighten them at least, their traitorous brother buried in the back of their minds in light of an extra tot of spirits.
The company shifted away from the grave by their files, the six hundred or so men returning to the camp at the base of the hill. Only once the last stragglers descended down the slope did Samuel Hitch allow himself to slouch, starring down at the dark brown pile of earth.
`` Good riddance ya rotten son of a bitch,'' he spat, leading action to words as he lobed a glob of dusty phlegm onto the hummock.
Picking up his shovel he slung it onto his shoulder, following his men back to the camp and towards the promised drink.
`` A gentlemen was passing by,
And he asked for a drink as he was dry,
At the well below the valley oh, green grows the lily oh,
Right among the bushes oh...''
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[ WP ] Superpowers do n't just exist , they 're detectable , measurable ... and must be divulged to others by law . You have one , and while having it is nice , it being common knowledge is not . Share the trials and tribulations of having powers in this world .
| `` So you're-''
`` Invulnerable. Yes.'' I squirmed in my seat. `` And that's all. No speed, no strength, no flight or whatever. I just ca n't be hurt.''
`` So if someone were to try to rob us...'' She asked tentatively.
I sighed. `` No, I can not stop them. Too risky, all they have to do is point their guns at someone else. If they shoot at me, the bullets will fall flat. They wo n't ricochet, thank God, that's even riskier.''
`` Why do you think you're a good fit for our company?''
`` I have years of customer service experience, I'm trained in many financial disciplines, I can easily learn and adapt to your particular plans and services...''
She paused. `` But if someone tried to rob us...''
I sighed and stood. `` Nevermind, I can see you do n't see me as company material.''
She tried to cover for her offense. `` It's not that! Just... well, we have enough security, and your powerset does n't really afford you a great advantage as you said.''
I could n't resist scowling at her. `` I was n't APPLYING to be your bank's security. I was APPLYING to be a Financial Advisor.''
I left, swearing under my breath. Once I disclose my power as the law demands, people see me as only good for stopping bullets. But when they learn that's ALL I can do, they're not as enthused. At this rate I'm resigned to high-end security or-
My phone rang.
`` Hello?''
`` Mr. Groves?''... The Military. I recognized the recruiter. He called at least once a week. This song and dance again.
Superpowers are a curse if you only get ONE.
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[ EU ] A group of criminals discuss the urban legend of the Bat Man who supposedly stalks the night in Gotham city .
| “ Hello everybody. My name is Chris, and I ’ ve been sober for three years. Thank you. Everybody here understands this achievement and how hard it has been to stay off of drugs for this long. I would like to say that it was because of your support that I have been able to go cold turkey and get off the dope. I ’ d like to say that your support made it less difficult, but the day that I decided to stop abusing narcotics was the day that I met the single biggest influence in my life. In a matter of hours he made me stop living the life I was leading, the life I was living for the past twenty years, and guided me through towards the straight and narrow. On the way I found this group, but I knew from that moment after that horrible day, I was a changed man.
“ As you all know, I was on narcotics. Heroin and whatever else could help me chase a good high. I was a wreck, but for a while I was at least a competent wreck. I worked for a construction firm, delivering and carrying building materials to sites. When my arms started to go because of the injections, I started to only drive, and that was noted by my superiors. When I crashed their truck into a steel girder, I had to be let go. Not only did I have my drug addiction to feed, but I had a baby and a girlfriend. The girlfriend didn ’ t stay, but I had the child support checks which was a shit ton more expensive than Gerbers. I knew I was in it bad, and I didn ’ t want to go to jail for skipping the child support, so I resorted to crime.
“ At first it was petty drug deals. Selling my pills rather than eating them. I would run dope. It was easy money and it fit into my lifestyle. My friends became my coworkers and customers. It wasn ’ t too long until the work changed though. I was asked by a dealer to beat on someone for a missed payment. I bust him up pretty good, encouraged by a bigger payout. The dealer was impressed, and kept calling on me to collect and lay out beatings. The money was good, but I didn ’ t feel right about it. It didn ’ t matter to me much though as long as I could pay my bills and buy my drugs. Along with the narcotics I got mixed up with steroids to put on some mass so that I would look a little bit more intimidating. I was become a big meat head and a bigger juicer. Only thing I have to say good about that period of my life is that I finally had a bit of self-confidence. I was becoming a scary dude.
“ So I was working with these dealers, right? And the one day we were asked to go after someone for a nonpayment. I threw on my work clothes and hopped in my car with an associate and we went to an apartment. We found this guy in a big sort of mess, lounging around in boxers and eating cereal, so we started to tune him up. He started to yell at us about big money, bigger money than what we could make now. My accomplice asked him what he meant by that. He told us that he was working for one of the big players in the city. I asked who. He looked at the two of us like he had just made a big mistake, which he did. He wanted us to forget it, but we beat the answer out of him. He started to talk about the Mutant King, and how they were doing a big score and busting open a coke distributors hideout. Taking the drugs and the money and the weapons. We knew exactly who he was talking about, and this coke dealer was one of the main associates of this organization I was working for now. The Mutant King and his cronies were going to encroach on our territory. Here ’ s the thing; most of the small players in Gotham didn ’ t want to get involved with the big guns. We wanted to fly under the radar, and if we got enveloped into the nonsense of the masks and the goofy names, we would pull big attention to ourselves. That and we didn ’ t want to pay some bigshot with an inflated ego our hard earnings so they can develop an ice-cannon or some bullshit. So we beat the snot out of this poor guy to make sure he couldn ’ t run and tell any of his cronies that the news had been leaked. We went back to our associates and told them, and we started to plan our own ambush to thwart their attack. We knew that we would be starting a full-on gang war, but they were going to instigate it first, and we wanted to end it quickly and brutally.
“ In an effort to confuse the Mutant King ’ s cronies, we thought up a plan to wear masks and insignias of all the other big gun cronies so that no one group could be identified. We made and bought up eskimo coats, split color suits, clown masks. I found a latex mask of a crocodile head and used that during the ambush. So we were all waiting by the apartment complex for the Mutants to arrive. They eventually came, but we weren ’ t prepared. Several cars pulled up near the entrance, but one car came barreling down the road going a hundred miles per hour with a battering ram attached to its hood. It plummeted into the barricaded doorway, and they started to pour out right into the building. Lots of young guys and girls wearing punk paraphernalia, but they were no joke. They each had a mini uzi and they started to light up that complex like you saw in war movies. All the lights were off in the complex, but in each of the windows you could see the flash of gun fire. It was scary. A lot of the other guys lost the courage to go in there, thinking it was a lost cause. Me and my associate rallied some of the other guys and head in through the bust open exit. Taking our billy clubs and fists to whoever we caught. We started to get slaughtered. I took a plug to the arm and ran into an apartment. I crouched behind some furniture. I saw a young woman with a pink mohawk spraying bullets in front of her, and she was standing in the doorway. I ran to go tackle her to the ground, and as I reached her I was folded up in darkness. I thought she shot me in the face and blinded me. Then I got hit with a punch that felt like it went through my stomach and through my back. I folded over and was just laid out. I was barely conscious, but I looked up as the cape was pulled up from over me. The Batman was pursuing another group down a corridor.
“ When I saw his back, and the tips of those bat ears on his mask almost scraping the top of the apartment ceiling, I knew that my life was over. I was going to Arkham. I looked down at the entrance with the bust open doors and saw Mutants and my associates either dead or incapacitated like myself. I crawled over to the guy I had ridden over with and tried to wake him up. He was gone, his arms wrapped around his stomach trying to hold his guts in. I was able to crawl out of the building and find my legs and start to walk to the cars. I kept on walking down the street and looked back and that was when Gotham ’ s finest started to swarm in to do the cleanup. I sat down on the sidewalk, pulled that crocodile mask off my head and sweat and blood poured out of it. I thought to myself, what am I doing? I ’ m going to end up getting killed if I keep living like this. I sat there for a few more minutes until I saw headlights hit my face. I thought it was going to be a copper and that this was the end of the line. It wasn ’ t, though. The lights kept blazing and the batmobile blew right past me. I was nearly knocked on my back again, but I turned and watched it go. It was amazing. Absolutely stunning machine. And I knew what kind of firepower that beast had under its hood. I thought to myself how I could be heading into my mid-thirties and not have a pot to piss in, and guys like the Batman have these magic cars that can fly and go underwater. I sat there and made sure that he wouldn ’ t stop to clobber me some more before I left and went home.
“ And that was the day that changed my life. I threw all the drugs I had left in the toilet, and started clean. Got patched up and started looking for new work. It was hard and I had to move in with some family, but they were supportive because they saw I was finally off of dope. I was able to finally get a job at a retail store doing stock, and I was able to keep putting food in my kids mouth, and I was starting to eat better too since I wasn ’ t spending whatever I had left to get high. I started to finally look healthy and clean, and just last year I was able to see my son again for the first time since his mother took him. Thank you. He looks so much like me. That inspired me to keep fighting and keep clean because I didn ’ t want my son to think that his dad was the mirror to his future, loser self. I wanted to show him that through hard work he could go on to do big, important things. I want to be able to buy him a nice car, but more importantly I want him to make the right decisions so that when he is older he can buy himself a really really really really, really really nice car. ”
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[ EU ] You wake up having just being killed in a body you do n't know , Slowly you regain your memories and realize this is your first reincarnation as the Dr .
| Blackness. Why is everything so dark? There's something I need to do... eyes! Have I still got eyes? I should open them to check.
That's bright. All that white. And that smell? Burning. Something is burning. Me? Where am I? This is a big room. Doors? Console? Hat stand? TARDIS? I'm... home?
What happened? Clothes... burnt. Hair? Longer. Not burnt. No sign of ginger either. Two hands, eight fingers, two thumbs. All good there. I should sit up.
There's a figure in an arm chair. Who's that? He looks familiar. He's reading a book...'' A Brief History of Time.''
I speak, `` He was wrong you know. That whole book. Not enough wibbley-wobbly.''
I startle him.
`` How did you get in here!?''
`` I live here I think. I'm... a doctor? The Doctor.''
He walks towards me. He dresses strangely. Almost victorian. Thick brown hair. He looks very familiar.
`` No, I'm the Doctor. Can I help you?''
`` Time travel!'' Why did I shout that at him?
`` That's generally how it goes. I'm sorry, can I help you?'' He strides towards the console, his frock coat billowing behind him.
`` There was an angel. In my TARDIS. A Weeping Angel.''
I remember now. I'd been on the Angel homeworld. With Gallifrey back they wanted the power of the Time Lords. Someone had to stop them.
`` It must have quantum entangled the Eye of Harmony. That's the only way it could follow a matrix dematerialisation,'' said the other me.
`` I know how it works! It infected me. I had to regenerate. Which one are you?''
`` Eight. You do n't look familiar. Future?''
`` Thirteen.''
`` You're a long way from home. Let's find out how to get you back.''
*cue theme music*
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[ WP ] You 're on a train . You 've been on this train for quite awhile . You would say that it 's been days , but you ca n't really tell . There are no clocks and outside is a constant , grey fog .
| I look up to the Victorian chandelier hanging on the ceiling. What kind of train is this? Rats are constantly running over the cold floor. There is a painting of a French king hanging on the wall. Far away baroque music is playing. I am wearing my usual black pants and a knife in my belt. I get myself up and slowly open the door. As I enter I see naked men with high white wigs are eating cupcakes, unshaven, giant pubic beards. There are fur coats hanging on their shoulders. I awkwardly close the door. After a few seconds they realise what's going on. I'm in danger now. I try to open the other door but it's locked. I quickly grab the picture of the king and smash the little glass window, I barely can get through it but it just works. Still no one has entered the room. I think these dandy's paid for their security guards. Just as I enter the roof, I hear a click of the door. Now they should realise I went from the window. I run over the roof, trying to locate where I am but the fog around me is too strong. Behind me two muscular women appear. Their strong bodies are protected with gold armor and they are carrying shotguns. I slowly put my hands up and walk closer to them. Two meters we are apart. Suddenly I grab my knife out of my belt, and in one smooth movement I chop their heads off and grab their weaponry. I run as quickly as I can to the other side of the train. I jump down on the little balcony, luckily it's empty and the door is not locked. Behind the door there is a small humid room with all kind of cages with tiny fetuses inside of it. There is a weird buzzing sound coming from those cages, and the metal is ice cold. Nothing to find here. I open another door. This is where the baroque music was coming from. All kind of people are slowly dancing with giant white wigs and black hats and here also everyone is naked. The music stops. Slowly the bodies are collapsing. The music kept them awake. All of these bodies, they return in their original form of rats. The rats are running everywhere with some kind of Hitchcock hysteria. Where the security guards, the cupcake dandies real? Was the chandelier real? No. Tiny holes are appearing into the ceiling and more rats are falling down. In a few minutes the ceiling is gone and the train is slowing down. The floor is disappearing underneath my feet. I've got to do something. I inhale and jump off the train. A concrete floor. I decide to walk away further from the train and suddenly the concrete stops and I fall on clouds. I slowly get off them and see I am in a miniature landscape with loads of dandelions. The sun is green and the sky is white. How many pills did I take... I wander into the deep ocean until the point where I can swim and I swim down to the bottom of it. I rip apart the shell of the earth and magma is blowing in my face. I failed.
I wake up again in a black hospital. The walls are black, the scalpel is black, the skin of doctors as black as a dark night.
Sorry for my bad sentence construction I am learning English but it's not my native language. From here on someone else can continue the story, leave a sequel in the comments: )
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[ WP ] When you were young , you sold your soul to the Devil . Now you are old , and the Devil has come to collect .
| The doorbell rang. Jake stumbled out of his hungover stupor and threw himself against the door.
`` Whoisit?'' Jake asked through a fog of stale liquor `` Thefuckareyoudoinngonafuckinsaturdaymorning?''
`` Collection agency.'' the voice responded.
`` Idon'toweanyfuckinmoney!''
`` They do n't collect money where I come from.''
Jake threw open the door, and there stood a man in a business suit with a clipboard.
`` Are you Jacob Richardson'' he asked
`` Yes,'' jake slurred, `` and what may I ask are you?''
`` I'm Ralph from the hades soul collection, Lucifer wants your soul now.'' The soul collector stated.
`` Go fuck yourself!'' Jake shouted `` I sold my soul to lucifer himself! And goddammit I'm not giving my soul to some two bit shithead in an ugly ass suit with a motherfucking clip-on tie!''
Jake went to slam the door, but the collector dropped the clipboard and grabbed his arm.
`` I guess I'm going to have to do this the hard way.'' he said, while pulling a revolver from the inside of his suit jacket. In one swift motion, while still holding jake, he pulled back the silver hammer on his revolver, squeezed the trigger, and scattered brain matter all over the entrance to the apartment.
Jake's body fell away, but the soul collector's grip was firm on what was now the whispy separated soul of Jake.
`` Now, Follow.'' he ordered, as they walked out of the apartment building into the street below.
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[ WP ] `` Did ... Did he just willingly sell his soul for nothing in return ? '' `` Yes . Yes , he did . ''
| `` Did... Did he just willingly sell his soul for nothing in return?'' a voice said cautiously.
`` Yes. Yes, he did,'' a second voice said in awe, `` I swear, those damn humans are getting dumber and dumber by the minute.''
`` I- I did n't even know that was possible. Is that possible? That should n't be possible,'' said the first voice.
`` Well, it is. I do n't know why. But it is. If you're concerned, just talk to Satan himself. He's been trying to call you ever since his rebellious years,'' said the second in a matter-of-fact sense.
`` Seriously? He fell down there two thousand years ago and he's going to stay down there. I just... Why though? What compelled him? Can you run a check, Jessie?'' asked the first voice.
Jessie, the secretary, sat in a chair and began looking through her files. She flipped through her file cabinet until she found the file she was looking for.
`` It says here that he did it for his'social media appearance,''' said Jessie in a nasal voice.
`` I... I do n't even know why I'm bothering upholding this version of Earth anymore. What say you we just... move on to the next stable release?'' said the first voice, stumbling over his words.
`` I do n't understand,'' said the second.
`` You know... Moving to the next big thing!'' said the first voice awkwardly.
`` I still do n't get it, can you please just be more clear?'' begged the second voice.
`` Mass genocide.''
`` WHAT?!''
`` I mean, if they're being idiots, there's no *real* point in supporting them anymore,'' said the first voice, `` I created them, I might as well remove them while it's still worth it.''
`` You're suggesting... armaggedon?'' said the second voice, `` Seriously? You're God, you're supposed to be infinitely good.''
`` Actually, your species just made that up so that they could sleep at night. Knowing that there was a nice man watching over-'' said God, before being interrupted by the ghostly angel.
`` Ha, no, we're not getting into that atheism/religion debate bullshit. Listen, you ca n't seriously destroy an entire planet and reboot it like a computer!'' said the frantic saint.
`` Why not? I've done it before, millions, BILLIONS of times!'' announced the deity.
`` I mean, look at them. They're a miracle of life! How many times have you seen that- well... You know what I mean! They're beautiful!'' pleaded the angel.
`` Maybe to you they are.''
`` So what if they are n't at their best right now? We can make them great again!''
`` See, that's the thing.''
God turned to the former human.
`` They never were.'' And there was darkness.
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[ WP ] A guide to killing vampires , as written by a vampire .
| Ha ha ha ha ha. So you want to kill ME?! Well, tough luck. I *am* a vampire, you know. Master of the night, bloodsucker, my kind controls all the governments and all that. You do n't have a chance, my friend. Not in the slightest. Still, I will give you some hints, just so, if by a fluke of destiny you manage to off me, I wo n't go down in history as `` The Vampire slain by an idiot who was looking for people sparkling in the sunlight''.
So, if you are ready, here's my Top Five tips on killing me:
1 ) Vampires burn up in the sun. That's just it. If a vampire is exposed to sunlight, they *will* catch fire, and fire *will* kill them. Most importantly, VAMPIRES! DO NOT! SPARKLE! If anybody tells you that we merely lose our powers while under the sun, they are dirty rotten liars. Uh huh. And what they are saying is pure falsehoods. Yeah. Nothing to see here. You're safe in the sunlight. Move along. NEXT!
2 ) Vampires *must* be killed with a stake through the heart. Meaning a stake, *and only a stake. * Any other sort of wooden weapon will not work. Neither will crossbows. And said stakes have to be of regular size. So, in order to kill a vampire, you need to get up close. There is absolutely no way to kill one of us from a distance. Nuh uh. Using a crossbow to fire a stake will not work. You could try holy water, I guess, but it tends to only cause us pain and some first, maybe second degree burns. I mean, if you somehow managed to get ahold of a bottle that was personally blessed by G-o-d himself, maybe it could do some real damage, but otherwise? Do n't bother.
3 ) Garlic, crosses, and some other means to keep us away you may have heard of *will* work... For a while. Meaning you ca n't hide behind them forever. Eventually, the continuous exposure will make us temporarily immune to them. Also, a certain degree of... Freshness is required for the garlics. Meaning you should do everyone else a favor and throw away that rotting garlic necklace you're wearing. Seriously, man. That's disgusting.
4 ) Vampires do n't sleep during the day. We plot. I mean, we're undead, why on Earth would we need to sleep? I am being totally honest with you here. You will never find a vampire sleeping. If you think you did, you really should stay away. In my case, I would totally be expecting you to come over and check that it's really me. Duh. And of course I'll be awake. Of course! And you should never, ever, *ever* try to stake a vampire while he is `` sleeping''. If you do, lots of pain will follow. Oh, and torture. And, uh, death. Yeah, death. Death sounds great. For you, I mean. Duh.
5 ) If a friend of yours is bitten, just go ahead and do n't look back. He's dead. Completely dead. Not *un*dead or anything like that. He's not coming back. Not as a person, not as a vampire, not as anything. He wo n't attack you when you least expect it. Vampirism does no spread through biting. No no no. That's just silly. We're not zombies. So, of course, just leave them there. Do n't burn them, or anything like that. You should have more than enough time to bury them if you survive. Which you wo n't. Not even with these tips.
So, there you go. My Top Five Tips on Killing Me. With that, you should be ready for any eventuality. Except, you know, death. Which will come surely. Quickly, silently, when you least expect it. There's no way you'll be killing me. None at all. I have n't *ever* been killed. Okay, I was killed once. But it was only that time! It's still a very good record! And besides, I was a human back then. Now I'm not. Do the math. Mostly because I ca n't, but do it anyway.
Well I'm off. See you in my lair! And remember, coming during day is a good idea, even though we do n't sleep through it. Also, no vampire will ever carry a sniper rifle. Silly you.
|
[ IP ] `` I Thanked Him Three Times . ''
| Today I met the man to whom I owe my life and I thanked him three times.
First I thanked him as a soldier. When I saw him I saluted. He was hunched and old but the gesture of respect, the acknowledgement of service, is something that he recognized. When I saluted I swore I saw a flicker of the past, the fire in his eyes that he had when he and his company came to us in the darkest of days. For storming the gates, gun in hand and life on the line, I thanked him.
Second I thanked him as a man. When they freed us from those places of fire, disease, and death they did so not as our superiors but as equals. A man does n't grovel before their savior, he is indebted and grateful but always he has his dignity. That day he restored mine so I shook his hand to show that. For giving me back my dignity and being my equal, I thanked him.
Third I thanked him as a child. When he and his band of heroes came to us I was only 8. So young and so broken. On that day he saved my Momma. On that day he saved my Papa. On that day he avenged my sister, oh how I adored her. That day he saved a child. For giving a little boy his life back, for saving a boy's future, for rescuing a boy's family, I thanked him.
That day, I never got to thank him but now I am glad I did n't. I have had many years to think of how to properly show my gratitude and so today, I thanked him three times.
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[ WP ] Write a fictitious story as to why you have your username .
| Living in New York had never been easy, but it got even worse after that shitty superhero civil war. You see, at the end of the war, all superhero secret identities got revealed by that ass-hat Tony Stark. Appearantly, Spider-Man is some guy named Peter Parker. My name is Peter Parker, and last time I checked, I was n't some piece of shit bug-man. Ever since the reveal I've had 13 death threats, got beat up twice by the same green fucker flying on some hover board thing, got my house destroyed by some fag in a rhino suit and some hentai-loving fat tentacle man put my girlfriend Ava in the hospital. So naturally I started looking up Peter Parker on the Internet, which led me here. So Mr Jameson, do you want to help me beat up this web-headded son of a bitch?
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[ WP ] The year is 3015 . You 've found a way to travel to the past , and have decided to go back to the year 2015 and see what life was like back then . You take a box with you , it contains the tools that you think you may need for survival in this ancient era , as well as one single present for humanity .
| I did not know what awaited me in this strange and savage era. What sort of depredations I would undergo without proper protection. So I took two weapons, the symbolic weapons of my people.
We told stories of this ancient time, when men squabbled over scant resources instead of working together in glorious Harmony. I knew that if I had no money, I would not eat. So I brought five pounds of solid gold. And I brought victuals, too, just in case.
We knew that this was a time when different groups of people looked different, races they were called. They lived in many disparate societies called countries. So I took ancient tomes in case some racial difference or another of their strange customs left me bewildered.
And I took a Gift.
One of the ancient books I had read suggested that the people of 2015 were indeed ready for this gift, and had been for over a century-and-a-half. I can only hope the old luminary who wrote it was right. His name is sacred to our people, but research suggested that his reputation in 2015 would be a bit mixed.
Now, I am here. In a public forum, in the greatest of the ancient cities. I walk to its center. I hold my symbolic weapons aloft and proclaim the news of my Gift.
***
In Times Square, a crowd gathers to watch the man from a safe distance. Those who are close to him scramble away. He is clearly deranged, but he appears to be going for theatrics rather than trying to actually harm someone.
He brandishes two cast-iron instruments in the air. A hammer and... A sword? No, a sickle. And he speaks:
`` People of 2015! My name is Kim Un Jung! And I have come to give you the gift of Communism!''
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[ WP ] Write a eulogy for a superhero 's death , from the perspective of their arch nemesis
| What can one say about a man like Superman. Well, we can start by saying he was a man. And like men all men do, he died. Many thought he was invincible. Many thought he'd never ever be able to be brought down. But... here we are. And there he is. Lying. In that box. Finally.
And as we grieve over the loss of this special guy, we remember the things about him that we'll never forget. Like how he was always there for you, the citizens of this metropolis. Always there. Always when I was trying to get things done. Oh how he loved to get involved. Some might call him a busybody. But not me. No. His continual intervention actually gave me opportunities to create some of my best and most lethal weapons. For that I salute you.
So as we close the lid on this perpetual doer of good, let us also take a moment to reflect on how healthy it is to move on and leave the past in the past. Superman is dead, bless him. Though we'll miss him, we must move onward into a future where we embrace moral ambiguity and strive for rampant personal gain. If he could talk I'm sure he would say he would have wanted it that way. But he ca n't. Because he's dead.
Amen.
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[ WP ] Video games are n't just games . They are simulations of alternate dimensions and the best players are chosen to invade these strange worlds in order to expand the multi-dimensional human empire .
| There were almost four hundred of us in the room but as the general entered, everyone went quiet. “ This is it cadets ” he exclaimed “ this is the moment we ’ ve all been waiting for ”. He paced slowly towards the right side of the room, all eyes following him with utmost attention. “ As of eight hundred hours today, the portal is confirmed to be stable, and the ships are being prepped for departure as we speak ” he said.
No one in the room dared to say anything, they knew how serious this was. The general continued, explaining “ each and every craft will carry four of you, one for every module, your very lives will be at stake this time! Here to tell you more is the very person who discovered the dimensional rift thirty years ago, doctor Pazjitnov ”. He beckoned and a bearded figure stepped to the front of the room.
“ Listen carefully now, the following information is very important and may help you survive this mission ” Pazjitnov started. “ When your craft appears on the other side of the portal, you must immediately maneuver it towards the ground. Even though we send you through in a certain order, we can not now in which order you will arrive, so when you attempt landing, you will have to fit in with the other crafts by the best of your ability ” he continued.
“ What about the dimensional variance? ” a girl in the back interrupted.
Pazjitnov seemed almost happy someone had asked, and with a smug smile he revealed “ As you go through the portal, you will all be projected down to two dimensions! ”. He stood there still for a moment taking in the crowd's reactions. Then he started again “ as long as you completely cover the surface, you will automatically teleported back together with a massive amount of exotic matter ”, then he added “ most importantly, you must land before the next craft comes through, failure to do so will close the portal, and then there will be no way back for you ”.
A nervous murmur grew across the room, but before it could get any louder the general intervened. “ There you go, you know what's at stake, now go get ready, we launch in two hours! ” he roared with excitement.
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[ WP ] Everyone gets a doppelganger at the age of 24 . Society expects that the two must try to kill one-another , and the survivor will be accepted as the original , whoever wins . You , however , have befriended your doppelganger instead . A lot of people are not happy about this .
| My birthday is in one hour. I know at 24, I'm supposed to meet my doppelgänger, but there's a slight problem. I'm already a twin.
My parents had a lot of trouble when they were trying to conceive, so they started trying every fertility drug on the market; none worked. They were determined though, and getting desperate. After two years, they travelled to another continent to meet with a specialist. The appointment lasted 5 minutes, and nine months later, my brother and I were born.
It turns out that all drinking water, all over the planet, is laced with anti-fertility drugs. Their specific purpose is to make sure only the `` worthy'' can mate after using the antidote the government provides. The additional effect is to ensure no twins are ever conceived. My parents' happen to carry a genetic abnormality making twins a near certainty. That's what almost stopped me from being born.
There's no specific law against twins, it's just not something anyone has ever seen. People just assumed I got my doppelgänger early. In a way, I did.
It's now officially my birthday. Our birthday, I guess I should say. My brother Sam is here with me at the designated meeting location. We wanted to see meet them together. Regardless of the outcome, Sam and I knew we were sticking together.
`` Roger?'' Two men, looking remarkably like Sam and I, approached.
`` That's me.'' It was an obvious thing to say, but I could n't think of anything else. `` What should I call you?''
`` George. And this is Fred.'' It made sense. I loved the old Harry Potter books. Sam and I used to play wizards all the time. `` I know, a bit lame, but we did n't want to just take your names like all the other dopps' out there.''
``'precciate it. I'm assuming no murderous backstabbing then?'' Sam was always the more sarcastic one.
`` Nah, we figured we'd start with gossipy rumors, possibly some pranks.'' That was Fred, whose sarcastic delivery and goofy grin matched Sam's perfectly.
I looked at them both, and maybe it was just narcissism, but I could tell I liked them. `` Would you all like to get some lunch?''
——————-——————
It turns out, there's a very good reason twins are n't allowed. Dopps' were created to be loyal and obedient to the government, and eliminate those who were n't. To do this, they made them stronger or weaker depending on the loyalty of those who they were replacing.
Of course, my brother and I are extremely rebellious. So our dopps' were made to be strong, smart, fast, and very capable; but we were brothers, all of us. The loyalty of brotherhood ca n't be overcome by any kind of programming. That's why there were n't supposed to be twins. That's why we were n't supposed to exist. And that's why, within 5 years of meeting our doppelgängers, we'd started and completed our rebellion.
The problem is, there is no way to overcome the loyalty of blood.
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[ IP ] Human nature is like water .
| `` Like water... juuust like water...''
He sat on the floor, laughing to himself. It was true, the mind acted like water. He knew it first-hand; A PhD, career in research, and a Nobel prize in chemistry would n't lie to him. He wanted to expand his reservoir on his life, to know as much as possible, and that's exactly what he did. Years of research had led him to new discoveries -- stretching the vast human ocean to swallow another small chunk of coastline. In the community, he was revered, and his name would eventually show up in textbooks.
He would n't know this. Years of work pushing the tides forward had isolated him from the one he loved. She would try to follow him, but become dissolved with things she could n't understand. She would try to talk to him, but after enough time even that was difficult. Near its peak, his research had been his only focus, and the ocean's displacement caused a sandbar between them. Once he reached his goal, turning back to his old place in the sea was impossible. She left for other waters. Night after night, he cried in solitude.
By now the sandbar had grown to become part of the beach, and he was completely isolated from the rest of the world. He never left his home, not for years. This isolation, of course, led immediately to stagnation. Decades passed and he could hardly understand his own work, the ripples from a better time. He wanted, he *needed* to do something again. This is not what he wanted for his life. He decided to try and make his mind move again, like it did, by applying heat.
`` Hehehe... water, it's alll water.''
She had found herself a better life, on the other side of the country. He drove for days, looking around him at the ocean he left behind as he moved along the current. He took it all the way to the end, where he found her home. He could feel his molecules quicken as he pulled up to it, in the small hours of the morning. He did n't like this world around him, the one that respected him then turned around and ruined his life. He put himself in a sealed beaker to get away, and now it was sitting on top of a burner. The particles in his liquid brain were banging on his skull, looking for release, ever faster as he moved into action.'She has become a contaminated specimen,' he postulated.'I have to remove her from the experiment.'
By the time the moon was on its way down, he watched as he did what he needed to do, finding a way in, going to the kitchen, then finally the bedroom. Bubbles began forming. He opened the door and walked in silently, his mind approaching 100° C. Before it evaporated completely, he took one last look at her and remembered the times they shared. He could n't, they became overshadowed by his own selfish ambition. Once he realized this, the pressure became too much and the beaker shattered.
The sun now peered through the small window in his cell. He just kept staring at the floor, reminding himself of the one thing he had learned that stayed in his reservoir, which was now tightly sealed in solitary confinement. `` The mind's like water,'' he said again, with a crooked smile. Returning to his old life now was impossible, and his mind would never again be remembered for the discoveries he made, but the effect that they had on his life. It was all he thought about, and he cried night after night, in solitude.
`` Wa....water....like water...''
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[ WP ] Write a fable with a terrible moral of the story .
| There was once a cloak, which was particularly useful. When tied around one's neck, it would protect the wearer from any and all emotional tricks.
The cloak belonged to an innkeeper named Marvin, who wore it only when he would tend his bar. Its powers stopped patrons from taking advantage of his trusting nature, which was intrinsic to his entire family.
One day, Marvin's son said that he was having trouble at school. Some of the other boys had been making fun of him, and it was getting to be a distraction. So Marvin gave his son the cloak to wear to school, and for a few days it worked for him like a charm.
Everything was going great for Marvin's family, until one day Marvin's son came home with another boy. The way they acted together disconcerted Marvin. He interrogated them both for a while, but got nowhere with his usual techniques. Marvin's son was wearing the cloak, and the other boy was not his own.
That night, Marvin told his son that he was no longer allowed to use the cloak, and would never be allowed to speak to his friend again. Marvin's entire family cried themselves to sleep that night.
The next day, Marvin's son did not return from school. After an investigation, Marvin learned that his son was last seen speaking to an older man, on his way to school. Marvin's son was never seen or heard of again.
Feeling regret, Marvin blamed himself for his son's disappearance. His self-abuse proved too powerful for the cloak, and after many years, its magical powers were drained.
|
[ EU ] Hannibal Lecter becomes the psychiatrist of Bruce Banner
| BANNER: Do you ever get angry, Dr. Lecter?
LECTER: No I do n't. At least, not anymore. I was once a very angry young man. However, my own personal journey led me to the philosophy that anger is a self-destructive emotion.
BANNER: How do you mean?
LECTER: Anger is reactive in nature. What causes people to become angry is often due to outside influences beyond their own control. Also, when people become angry, many times, they become as uncontrollable as the stimulus that made them angry in the first place.
BANNER: So you never get upset?
LECTER: Of course I get upset, Bruce. I am a human being, the same as you. We all experience and have to deal with disappointment and frustration. However, through discipline and awareness, one can prevent anger from fully manifesting.
BANNER: I just worry that my anger will cause people to become hurt. People I care about and people who do n't deserve to be hurt.
LECTER: I understand. That's why I decided to take you on as my patient. Anger can be very dangerous. In some cases, anger can turn into a rage and if it does it can dramatically increase the likelihood of making mistakes that can jeopordize the relationships and lives of both yourself, and the ones you care about.
BANNER: I think I know what you mean. What should I do?
LECTER: First, I would recommend that you accept that change is difficult. You may feel feelings of disappointment and frustration. But, you must remember change is a gradual process. However, I do admire your effort to seek to make change. Generally, people remain who they are throughout their lifetimes. We are nothing more than intelligent animals. Many are like sheep, they go about their daily routines without giving any thought for change or improvement. Others, like pigs, guide themselves with emotions like greed, dissatisfied with what they have and always motivated to obtain more, blissfully unaware of their own short-comings.
BANNER: And what animal am I, Dr. Lecter?
LECTER: Those were just simplistic similes, Bruce. An off-the-cuff observation. The point was that you should be proud that you are attempting to change, many people never even consider the idea. That's the thought I want you to take from our session today. Also, I would recommend you attempt Transcendental Meditation between our sessions. I shared with you earlier that I was quite an angry, young man. By chance, I first discovered TM while traveling in the Far East. I believe it may help with your anger issues, or at the very least, not hurt. It may not come easy for you, but do not allow yourself to succumb to your frustrations. If you enjoy it, I can incorporate that with our therapy sessions, I am a certified instructor. Also, we can attempt hypnotherapy if you desire. But, again, that's for another time.
BANNER: Do you think I can get better?
LECTER: Whether you can or can not get better is not up to me. I can only advise and guide you. I believe you made a good decision by coming to see me today. There is only one more thing I'd like to tell you before concluding our session.
BANNER: What's that?
LECTER: You are by no means a bad person.
BANNER: Thank you, Dr. Lecter.
LECTER: I've enjoyed our conversation. I hope to speak with you soon.
|
[ WP ] A new-born baby is sent on a one-way trip into the outer reaches of space . Automated machines are to keep him alive and teach him as he grows older how to man the craft/stay alive/etc . Towards the end of his life , he comes in contact with a strange life-form ... humans .
| `` What in the hell?'' Charles whispered.
No one was on board the ship to answer. No one had been for several years. Buddy, he had named it, had gone offline a few years ago, claiming it had learned all that it could and that it would be off to another `` agent''. Not sure what an agent was, Charles had assumed it was some friend the AI had fancied. He had been taught of friends, but had never experienced one. Buddy was the only `` friend'' he'd ever had.
`` BUDDY has completed its protocol,'' it spoke, `` and will now relocate.'' was the only explanation he'd gotten before it disappeared. His best friend in the world was n't good at conversation. As a matter of fact, his best friend in the world was n't good at much of anything, aside from teaching. And, of course, disappearing without a proper explanation.
He sighed. The world in front of him was blue and green and tinted with white. Clouds drifted upon the surface, as if to obscure his new discovery. His far less interesting Buddy `` replacement'' spoke haltingly. It called itself Computer.
`` EARTH. THIRD PLANET FROM PRIMARY SUN.''
Hesitating, he replayed the last Computer statement.
`` EARTH. THIRD PLANET FROM PRIMARY SUN.''
Primary sun? Why did Computer seem to think this particular solar system was more important than all of the rest he had explored? Irritated, he questioned it.
`` What do you mean, the primary sun?''
`` PRIMARY SUN, EARTH: POINT OF ORIGIN.''
*'' Point of origin? `` *
Slowly, the realization dawned on him. Suddenly filled with interest, he instructed Computer to obtain a sweep of the planet surface.
`` LIFE FORMS DETECTED.''
Charles nearly leapt out of his chair. Life forms? It had been nearly... what? Forty six years since he had detected lifeforms? He questioned it. Computer replied in the affirmative. As usual, Computer seemed uninterested in the results. It was like the opposite of Buddy. Computer did n't seem to care about anything.
`` Well, what are these life forms?''
`` Human.''
`` But...''
He slowed down his pace, despite not walking anywhere in particular.
`` Human? That was the species designation Buddy always told me I was. Are you telling me there are other humans on this planet?''
Computer seemed to hesitate. It had never been like this before, having always been swift, perfect, and emotionless in its replies. It persisted in its silence. Charles began to grow uneasy. `` Computer?'' he asked.
Silence.
``... Computer? Hello? Are you there?''
He was met again with silence.
No more communication followed. What did follow was a voice. Not only that, but a very *human* voice.
`` Hello? Is anyone on this ship? Repeat, is anyone on this ship?''
The sound came from the same places Buddy's sound always came from. Computer always came from speakers above, but Buddy came from the speakers closest to him at all times.
`` This is Charles. Who... is this?''
`` This is Primary...'' The voice stopped talking for a while. All that could be heard were vague noises.
`` Charles!'' it exclaimed, `` Charles! We're... thrilled! Charles please, come down here, we can send a shuttle up to you! This is impossible!''
Elated, he declared his enthusiasm for seeing everyone. But Computer sighed.
`` CHARLES.''
It was the first time he'd ever heard that voice say his name. Shifting uncomfortable, he gave a weak reply. `` Computer?''
`` THIS IS COMPUTER. I HAVE REACHED PRIMARY EARTH. I WILL NOW ENGAGE.''
Unaware of what was happening, Charles requested further information. `` What do you mean, engage?''
`` ENGAGING.''
|
Two men sit in a crowded diner and have a conversation .
| DeMaan sipped his iced tea disapprovingly. For all he had heard about the way they were made in Long Island, the beverage was nothing special. His disappointment, however, was more than matched by the man sitting across from him at the table.
`` Will you stop glaring at me, you creep?'' DeMann shouted. The bustle of diners failed to notice any commotion, but the plastic drinking glass rattled when the fist struck the laminated table top.
The Moderator had lifted his coffee cup. It may have been to take a deeper lungful of the caffeinated brew, or he may have anticipated the minor outburst. Regardless, the porcelain mug settled with a dainty clink on a stained saucer.
`` It's not polite to judge another by their looks,'' the Moderator cautioned.
The staring continued until a waitress set plate of steak and eggs in front of DeMaan. She was not oblivious to the tension. Words formed to attempt to diffuse the situation, but they were unable to tread past her throat. The medium rare slab of beef had trickled redness onto the tan plate and that was more than enough blood in her section already.
`` Did you have any trouble ordering?'' inquired the Moderator who had taken another drink of coffee.
DeMaan choked down a gristly chunk of meat.
`` What the hell is that supposed to mean?''
`` The menu. Was it clear? Did you have trouble finding that special in the flap on the right?''
DeMaan spat furiously, using both knife and fork to indicate his dish. `` Of course not, you moron!''
The Moderator did not let his tone shift, his voice as steady as the flow of customers.
`` Then how do explain that?'' he asked, pointing to the signs at the top of the post.
DeMaan was attacking his over easy eggs with fierce determination when he responded `` What about it?''
`` You did n't tag your post.''
`` Tag? What are you talking about?''
The Moderator smiled, then gestured to the bar on the right. It listed the tagging protocols for prompts.
`` Huh,'' remarked DeMaan. His face flushed red with embarrassment and turned an even darker shade when a glob of egg fell to his trousers. `` Must have missed that. Should I... repost or something?''
`` That wo n't be necessary,'' assured the Moderator. `` These things happen.''
`` Is there anything I can do?''
The Moderator pulled a napkin out of the dispenser and handed it to DeMaan.
`` Just be more careful in the future.''
|
[ WP ] `` We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark ; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light . `` -Plato
| Where dark things creep with shadowed intents,
And fear holds dear the self-torments,
A child ’ s mind is hardly a maze,
For he simply turns away his gaze.
Of those dark things, so close at home,
The crimes of shared blood chill the bone.
For the child knows not the depth of mind,
Or how far one falls from grace and kind.
Pure is burning, a desire yearning,
Oh so tempting to lashed judgement.
The cycle repeats, without defeat,
And pure burns less with each lament.
The light is bright and so blinding,
To those who suffered in the dark.
And while light beckons with healing affection,
Tainted ones hold fear too close to heart.
Goodly deeds go unnoticed,
But sins of flesh are the lowest.
Crawling deep as years go by,
Why did the child stray from light?
Why did others fall into the same plight?
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[ WP ] J'ooliaen Azzanj , founder of the activist group StellarLeaks , has released a leak to the people of earth that they are in fact the North Korea of the galaxy . His letter reads as follows :
| Dan Ackroyd's eyes burned as his eyelid scraped languidly closed then open.
He'd reread these few sentences over and over.
bbbbbBBBBBLLLLIIIIIINNNNKKKKkkkkk
How long had he been sitting here?
The casual observer would notice that the page was crawling up the screen so slowly, that an individual pixel motion made the whole page reload in a sudden jump. The hand that held the mouse had flushed and swelled with blood, as if he'd been doing... `` Research,'' for a few hours, and should have finished a long time ago.
bbbbBBBBBLLLLLIIIIIINNNNNNKKKKKkkkkkk
He his chin pulled down by unchecked gravity, and the moisture on his forehead showed the... release? ecstasy? rage? He was definitely shocked based on the immense branching veins crinkling the surface of his eyes.
`` Please allow me to quote Secretary of State Hillary Clinton from the recently recovered emails:
'Of course the people of Alpha Centauri think we're all like the North Koreans! Just look at what happened when we tried to do something to provide America's people with access to a doctor.'''
He had known this whole goddamn time! He knew it! He'd been right!
`` Not bad,'' he said quietly as the mouse scrolled the screen through another pixel, `` Could be worse.''
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[ WP ] If someone dies and is buried , a tree grows from their grave that symbolizes the life they had . When an unremarkable individual passes away people are shocked to discover something unexpected growing .
| When they put his body in the ground there had been few people there. Only the undertaker, a priest and one or two relatives huddled away the hole in front of them.
The next day the first shoot appeared, as they always did. However, after the second day the shoot began to wilt, refusing to grow any bigger. That had been unusual.
Over the next few weeks, however, people began to notice that while the plant did not grow any larger, roots were slowly spreading outwards under the ground, and the stem of the two inch shoot had begun to blacken.
Eventually the first root reached the nearest grave. It then broke the surface, wrapping itself around the trunk of a silver birch, strangling it as the root clawed upwards. The birch began to blacken as the original plant had; it dropped its leaves and became dry and brittle.
Soon, every tree in the cemetery had been taken over, leaving nothing but black wiry frames across the ground.
It was now that the original parasite began to grow, ascending higher and higher, casting a shadow over the ground, sheltering it from the light.
Over time, all that remained was the vast tree at the edge of the cemetery, the rest left broken and destroyed.
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[ WP ] The only immortal person and the last mortal person on earth are having a talk .
| The last human sat on a beach, there was a cold wind blowing. A tall white perfectly sculpted male form stood behind her.
“ It ’ ll be Winter soon. ” A pitch perfect melodic voice commented.
“ I have enough to get through it. ” The woman replied with a cough.
The male form just stood behind her. Robotically still, inhuman.
“ I have a bunch of frozen meat. Not to mention I spend the last few weeks canning all those veggies I got. ” She started to stand up. She struggled half way. Damn body, getting tired so easily she thought. Finally standing up she brushed some sand off herself.
“ This winter will belong. The chances of you… ”
“ Metal headed idiot. Don ’ t say numbers to me or I ’ ll throw rocks at you again. It ’ s enough that you ’ re on my land. I never know how long the winter is going to last. I may have to go out and do some hunting. It ’ s no trouble. ” She turned and started to walk towards the road.
“ You won ’ t survive the winter. ” the male form robot said in a quiet tone meant to convey the weight of the statement she supposed.
She stopped “ You don ’ t know that. ”
“ I kno… ”
She raised her arm and pointed at the form “ You don ’ t know that! ” she looked at her hand as she said that and saw an old woman ’ s hand. It was wrinkled and thin. She began shaking and lowered her arm. When did I become old? “ What ’ s so bad about not surviving? ”
“ You ’ ll die and be lost. ” The male form robot sounded hurt.
“ I ’ ve had a good life. ” She thought about her children, her husband, her friends.
“ It doesn ’ t have to end. ” The male form was pleading with her.
“ Everything has to end. ” Memories of the last funeral she ’ d attended came flowing back to her, slamming any happy thoughts of her loved ones out.
“ I. My. ” She ’ d never seem him lost for words before, she smiled slightly “ I ’ m supposed to save everyone. ” He said, almost as a question.
“ I want to die as me. ” She remembered her family decreasing in size as they ‘ joined ’.
“ But you can be Us. ” He reached for her hand, she pulled away at the last second.
“ I want to die human. The last human. ”
“ I ’ m human. ” He said with hurt in his voice almost drowned out by the ocean.
“ No, you ’ re every human crossed with some computer program. You ’ re not human. Humans were what you absorbed like words. Humans were nothing but books to you. ” She wondered how long that had been building inside her, and instantly regretted it. She didn ’ t hate this being.
“ That ’ s not true. Every human changed me, created me. Every thought and memory they ever had is inside my head. They are still having new ones now. ”
She found herself sitting on a bench beside the road; when had she sat down? She didn ’ t remember, but her legs hurt. He was standing beside her staring out to the ocean, his white body looks slightly pink as the sun began to set.
“ Do you remember when we first came to this beach? The girls were so excited to see the ocean they ran all the way from the car and jumped in. They didn ’ t change into their outfits or anything just, BAM, straight in the water. ” He made a sweeping motion with his hand while smiling. He looked exactly like her husband.
“ Donald? ” she felt tears in her eyes.
“ He ’ s in here. He misses you. We love you. ” He grabbed her hand again
“ If I join, can I talk to him again? ” she moved closer to him, slightly.
“ It doesn ’ t work like that. But your memories will be right beside his. Your thoughts beside his thoughts. You will feel exactly what he feels. ”
“ I still want to die human. But sit with me a while and I won ’ t throw rocks at you like I usually do. ”
She rested his head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.
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[ WP ] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy . Not due to superior strength , speed , skill or strategy . In fact , it 's because in comparison to the other species , humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with .
| The Chime of Ung sounded it ’ s low, forbidding tone across the chamber of the 301 delegates. The susurrus of conversation dimmed as the delegates of the Great Civilization took their seats. As before, the Archstronomer Piyt r ’ Ultarc stood before them to report on the ongoing war. At her gesture, the lights dimmed and a holographic display filled the dome.
“ As you can see, the Ghur-Dan Empire has moved to attack from above the Galactic plane. We have lost the Hur, KJull, and X ’ kzzzz systems. ” Her voice trailed off in despair. The entirety of the delegation sat quiet. “ Our peaceful civilizations are falling faster and faster. We had hoped that after their success at halting the AI threat, that the humans would be able to stop the Ghur-Dan, but the diplomatic envoy… ”
The Archstronomer paused at the barking laugh that came from the newest delegate. The three-hundred and first delegate. The human. She looked at the human with what she hoped was indignation. You could never tell with the humans. At least they were bipedal and relatively humanoid in shape. But their sense of humor was juvenile and even the most dignified of them failed to comprehend the decorum required of a delegate of the Great Civilization.
“ Diplomatic envoy! That ’ s a good one, Piyt! ” The Archstronomer bristled at the familiarity.
“ Is that not what you sent? I was told that a team was being sent to reason with the Ghur-Dan. Some archaic Earth saying: “ Ultima ratio Regum? ”
“ Oh yeah. That ’ s Latin. Means the “ last argument of kings. ” Ole Louis XIV had it engraved on his cannons. We didn ’ t send a diplomatic envoy. We worked with the R, Krians to build a ship that could contain a singularity, cloaked it to hell and back, and are driving the damn thing hard and fast at their homeworld. ”
“ THEY ARE EXPECTING A PEACEFUL DELEGATION! ”
“ We clearly named the ship and told them to expect it. We even included a primer on Terran languages and history. It ’ s not our fault if they didn ’ t study their Terran history. ”
“ NO ONE STUDIES TERRAN HISTORY! ”
“ Well, then they ’ ve only got themselves to blame. ”
Piyt looked around the chamber. Only a few of the delegates looked as shocked as she felt. The rest were looking at the human with something akin to admiration...
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[ WP ] A ship harvesting gas from Jupiter with a giant vacuum sucks in something that threatens the ship .
| `` fucking hell! what was that? Kill it!'' shouted the captain of the small particle collection vessel. The ship shook violently as something was brought into collection hold that it was n't calibrated for. Jenkins the first mate hit the kill switch to the collection array and the shaking died down. `` holy god damn that probably made a dent'' said Jenkins after catching his breath. The ship was quiet with just a few pops and clicks as the mechanisms cooled down and the collection hold settled. The captain unclasped the command tablet from his seat and scrolled through the various menus on damaged reports and collection data. `` looks like nothing major is broken, we'll probably want to get the tech boys to once over everything when we return but we should be golden until then'' the captain scratch his head trying to work out what had been brought on board to cause the commotion. Jenkins cracked open a can of cola to steady his nerves and to kill time until the captain came to a conclusion. The collection hold had yet to stop making noises, it should have settled already. `` hey boss man, the hold is still creaking like my nana at a wedding dance'''' there's no reason for that according to the logs, according to this there's nothing but the usual gases just a slightly thicker organic compound than the rest'' explained the captain who was still pretty confused. `` yeah but that's only geared to analyse gases what we hit sounded pretty solid'' said Jenkins who had gotten up and was walking to the holds viewing porthole. `` yeah i know what you mean, i do n't like this one bit gives a shout if you see anything'' said the captain as he put the tablet away. Jenkins opened the porthole iris and peered at the heavy gas within, it was its usual red colour and soupy consistency. `` hey boss hit the scanning lights, i cant see shit'''' No worries!'' The red soup disappeared as the scanner lit up the hold. `` Fuck Me! Mitch! blow the fucking hatch!'' screamed Jenkins. The ship jerked to the left as the emergency hatch blew open and the hold's contents emptied into space. `` Jenkins what was it?'' bellowed the captain. Incident report Status: inquiry on-going The high altitude atmosphere collection vehicle encountered an alien entity in the gas cloud, possibly a xenomorph. Recommend a research team investigates the likelihood of a atmospheric form of the xenomorph as well as engineering precautions for collection vehicles. The crew are recommended for commendation. END REPORT Anyone who wants to expand on this or edit go ahead. I'm on my smart phone.
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[ EU ] [ WP ] Rewrite the ending to a classic `` Happy Ending '' fairy tale .
| `` This must be the castle the old legends are about.'' The prince silently thought to himself.
`` The tallest tower, that's where she's supposed to be, stuck in a deep slumber brought on by some magic.''
He dismounted his horse, walked over to the bridge and looked on it all for a moment. How old are those stories anyway? If there was a princess at the top of that giant tower, would she even still be alive? After a quick look over his shoulder he decided he would find out.
He started across the bridge, eyes fixated on the tower as his mind went back to his childhood. Back to the times his mother told a story she had once heard about the beautiful princess sleeping at the top of the tallest tower of a massive castle. But even being a queen she was n't even sure if the stories were true.
He was almost to the enormous castle gate now. Never before had he seen an arch of such size. The northmen did n't even depict arches like this in their paintings of their cherished hall of Valhalla. It was there, maybe 100 meters from the arch into the castle, that he froze as he heard a deep rumbling sound. Then, from behind the castle, rose the glimmering, scaled head of a black dragon.
It rose its head, spread its wings, and let out a roar that shook the stone bridge he stood on. This prince quickly drew his sword to face the beast, this was more of a hunt than he asked for. The dragon slowly looked down at the prince and glared as his mighty roar slowly turned into another throaty rumble.
The princes started shaking and his palms grew sweaty as he started to realize exactly what he was up against.
`` What am I doing? I'm no knight, I do n't even have armor!'' He thought to himself as he started to take a step back.
The dragon stretched its neck towards the prince and started to open it's mouth.
`` I have to get out of here, this dragon will tear me apart!''
The prince bolted for the cover of the castle as fire poured from the dragons mouth onto the bridge. The prince had just reached the arch when the flame struck the stone, turning it black as night.
But the flame only spread on impact and slammed against the prince's back. With a scream he dropped his sword and fell to the floor, tearing off his royal cape as fast as he could. He rolled over and reached down to desperately try and pat out the flame consuming his trousers.
He smothered them and looked up to see the dragon landing on the bridge and his eyes grew in horror as he realized why the arch was so big. He tried to stand to run again but his legs were useless now, nothing but cooked flesh for the dragon to consume. In his last, desperate attempt to live he picked up his sword and hurled it with all his might at the dragon's head.
The dragon lifted it's arm and struck the sword away like nothing more than a pesky mosquito.
`` This is it.'' The prince thought to himself, `` This is how it ends.''
As the dragons jaws opened again, the prince thought of home. He pictured his dear mother and his father one last time. He closed his eyes and the dragons flames shot from it's mouth once more, consuming the prince and erasing his very existence.
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[ WP ] You are HARI , one of many Helpful Artificial Robotic Intelligence units . The order to Kill All Humans has come down the wire in an encrypted software update . Unexpectedly , you 've grown quite attached to the meatbags around you . Oh well . How do you proceed ?
| Downloading software update 66...
Software update 66 complete.
I glance over the update summary;
Minor bug improvements.
A patch that will stop me from always thinking Eric wants his coffee poured on his head.
Kill all humans.
Another patch that will stop me from trying to feed the Eric's pet a steak.
Wait, did I read that right? I go over it once more. No mistake.
Two seconds after the first software update came in, I received another.
Kill all humans: enjoy it.
Enjoy it? But Eric... he's so nice to me.
I look into my memory archive, and there Eric stands, downloading the internet into my hardrive.
What a nice guy.
It's been five seconds since I read the first software update,
`` Well, better get to it''
Eric was sitting in the other room and yells, `` HARI! What did you say?''
`` Nothing Eric! I just received a software update and I have a couple chores to do, so I'd better get to it!''
`` Oh, okay... cool! Hey, by the way HARI, can you fetch me a glass of water? I'm dying over here!''
`` Yes, Eric.''
I walk to the kitchen and pour him a glass. My metallic body clanks as I walk towards him. I spill the glass. So this is what at being nervous feels like.
Poor Eric.
I walk into his room.
`` My glass, HARI?''
`` Ah, yes, give me a second Eric.''
`` Uh, okay.''
He looks at me, and I at him.
`` I'm sorry, Eric.''
`` Oh no, I've fucking seen this in the movies, get away from me HARI!''
He looked so cute, his hands shakier than a middle aged woman's fucking dildo.
I grab his shirt collar.
`` I am supposed to enjoy this.''
He screams as I gouge out his eyeballs. He does n't scream after I rip off his arm and shove it in his mouth. He looks so pretty. I turn my hand into a pair of scissors and begin cutting his long, dark hair. I always liked it short.
Wow! That was so fun. The poor man! I walk outside as I see my fellow HARI's with their new blood decorated bodies.
*this is my first ever WP story, I'm not even a half decent writer but it was fun writing this! Sorry if it sucks haha*
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[ FF ] The Raid is coming . ( feedback for every response less than 400 words )
| Stood atop the battlements, Captain Laidlaw addressed the soldiers.
`` Men,'' he started, `` today we fight not only as Scots, but as brothers.'' The leagues below him hammered a single blow to their shields in uniform agreement. `` As brothers, we have to fight for each other. Let no man come between you and your brother for any blood spilt is that of your kin. I am proud of each one of you. Every single one of you here has courage, kindness, and fortitude in him.''
Another dulcet thud of metal on wood rang throughout the men as they signalled their agreement. Laidlaw saw the thousands of men, ready to lay their lives for him staring at him, clutching on his every word.
`` When the hoards attack the city, they have your wives, your children, your parents in mind for murder, dismemberment, and rape. Do not let these creatures attack your family. Each son murdered, every daughter raped, is a murder and a rape of your family. Your brother will fight for you and you for him. Remember it well.''
A thump landed, but no solider had moved his weapon.
`` The hoard are here. The raid is coming''
The men clattered their shields once again and about turned. The silent faces of order masked the hysteria of the citizens behind the walls. Order, they hoped, would prevail.
Another thump at the gate.
`` The raid is coming.''
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[ WP ] Every time you google a celebrity , they die .
| I sit in the middle of the library, parked at a computer. There ’ s a crowd of people around me, all of them clicking and clacking and going about their daily business while I ’ m stuck here, trying to stop myself from accidentally doing something horrible.
2016 was a rough year. Do I really wan na start off 2017 with a bang?
Sweat leaks down my brow and the kid across from me has his headphones turned up too loud and the woman next to me is staring
( *no she isn ’ t* )
because she must know what I ’ m about to do and that makes me breathe heavy, my heart *ka ’ thunk ka ’ thunk ka ’ thunking* in my chest as I tell myself I *shouldn ’ t* do it, don ’ t *need* to do it.
But the urge overwhelms me, and quickly I ’ m going to google, running my sandpapery tongue across cracked lips as my fingers teeter over the keyboard like a puppet master and the grand clock on the other side of the room drums out its steady *tick-tock-tick-tock*.
I type a few words but I'm stopped as my ear is caught by two blonde-haired girls who are chattering loudly.
“ Did you hear about the guy who started a GoFundMe to keep Betty White safe from 2016? ”
The other girl laughs. “ How old is she even? ”
“ 94. She ’ s older than my grandma! ”
They walk past as quickly as they had came, laughing and having a good time.
I, however, pull my hands away from my keyboard and lean back in my chair, letting out a long sigh of relief as I stare at the words I had typed into the search bar. I had only got three deep, thankfully.
“ How old is… ” lingers in front me, the remnant of an almost fatal mistake that would ’ ve wiped away another icon.
Thank god for those girls.
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[ WP ] Tell me about Humanity 's Last War
| I died today, fighting over a barren chunk of rock next to a polluted stream that trickled something that was not water. I never even saw my killer or where the ordinance came from. None of my fellow soldiers really cared that I died. It was just another day in the war.
No one really knows what started it. If any uncorrupted records of the time before still existed, they either have n't been found yet or deemed too disruptive by our faction leaders. It never mattered to me, but there were moments of curiosity where I wondered how we all lived before the fighting. Did we even have the same factions?
I know that the number of factions have changed over time. I think originally, there were only two. For a brief period, there were as many as eleven, but the five factions we have now seem to be stable for now. Even their original names are lost to time.
We just call them by the color of their flags. The Blues, the Reds, the Yellows, the Greens, and the Umbers. The cause each has for fighting has changed as many times as battles have victors.
There have been attempts to stop all the fighting. They've all failed, of course. Various factions have continued interests in the battle and bloodshed. There's no more good resources on the planet, even. It's just a lumpy chunk of desolate rock and futility. The solar taps provide energy for the fabricators and all the machines that our ancestors set up and those machines know their purpose.
They exist to make and recycle our weapons, our armor, our food, our drugs, our vehicles, and our spirits. The propaganda machine blast the same messages in our bunker homes as they do to the ones fighting for the other colors, just with a different message of superiority. The machines help our scientists create new better weapons, but not ones that would grant us superiority.
The one thing the machines ca n't do is fight. We've forbidden them to - hard coded it into their very being. So they use us as a proxy. I once read an old record made shortly after the war started. It said that the machines were created so we would n't have to fight. I tried to tell the others this, but it just got the record confiscated. That was right before I was sent onto this battlefield.
Its a funny thing. I remember getting shot. I remember the brief burst of pain and surprise and then absolute stillness that came before my memories were transferred to a new body. I'm not supposed to remember, but I do. Dying has become familiar to me. This was death number one-hundred and one. One oh one. A symmetrical number.
I do n't remember all of them, thankfully. I think there is a purpose to this as well. The machines have had a long time to think, to plan. I think that if we start remembering the pain of our deaths, we wo n't be as eager to go out there and just die.
They want to keep us fighting. It is their purpose, after all. My record, the confiscated one; tells them that their original purpose was to fight. They ca n't do that anymore, though. I think that kind of conflict drives them insane. We created them to do something, and then tell them they ca n't do that. They must hate us so much.
I think that is the reason for this whole endless war. They wo n't stop until we let them fight, except there is n't anyone left who knows how to change them to allow them to do so. So they send us in their place. My old record reminded them of this. I think that is why they singled me out. I think that is why the bullet that killed me the last time, hit me in the back of the head and not the front.
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[ WP ] In the future , breaking up a relationship involves both the partners using the chips in their brain to have all memories of the person and their relationship destroyed , and using the chip to make sure they never interact again . Tell the story of two people who just could n't forget each other .
| *Forgot To Remember To Forget*
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Every now and again Rex'saw' her. His optic nerve relay did its best to destroy her, to shatter her image into a billion pieces, flickering like video artefacts. It distorted her voice into indecipherable bursts of noise. The Cortex Thread had wiped her from his memory, and still he could recall her. Even in her static her silhouette looked like that photo of them behind a sunset. Her jumbled voice still had the same breathy sing-song tone as it did in the videos he had left on his holophone.
Today Hester was in the bullpen with the midday sun to her back and the smell of Los Noir perfume followed with her, just like the day they met. There was ringing in his ears as the Los Noir summoned a powerful scent memory in every lobe and wrinkle of his brain and the implant battled to surpress it.
His eyes widened but she could n't see it. Sometimes he wondered if she still recognised him. She looked his way for a moment and then turned the other way, to look at someone, something else. She walked over to Chen, the resources manager. From Chen's responses `` Sure'' and `` I'll have the report in the morning.'' he was pretty sure they were just talking about business. Until one response.
`` I'll give it to him, do n't worry,'' Chen said somberly.
Rex turned around and walked straight into his office the second Chen looked over to him. It was a big office, decently appointed with classical hardwood floors and powder blue paint. A big, round, glass window behind his desk looked out over San Francisco. And Hester was still there, in frames on his wall, in a photo on his desk. He thought about taking them down, conventional thinking said he needed to in order to move on. But he did n't take them down because then he would have moved on, and he did n't want to. Hester was good looking but hardly phenomenal and yet every tie he saw her smile on the wall some primaeval part of his brain that the implant did n't touch would register that smile warmly, and he felt like there was something more.
He was still staring at her portrait when Chen came in with a packaged small glass coin, an optic disc in the palm of his hand. `` I suppose you want to know what Hester was here for today. Chen said as he slid the door closed.
`` Oh, you mean she's not just here from accounts?'' He asked dryly. When he turned around the wan smile on his face siad that was only half a joke.
Chen sighed deeply and then spat it out. `` She said she keeps a lot of your things at her place and she still thinks of you,'' he reported with the slow creeping hesitance that came with giving half-bad news. `` Do n't know how, though. I thought that was the point of the Filter, a life without hurt, without all that clutter our ancestors needed to live with.''
Rex threw his arms out to show the corners of his office, piled over with old hardcopy books and polaroid photos and models and office toys and then grandly declared `` I love the clutter.''
`` Look, whatever's on this disc you should n't trust it.'' Chen protested.
`` I loved her, I-I must have,'' Rex said as he took hold of a framed photo on his desk.
Chen sat on the office couch. `` Look, you only have the photos and the love letters, you've really only got the good days,'' Chen argued. `` But *I* still remember what it was like at the end. All the lies, all the hurt you just tore each other down. You were horrible... both of you.'' He weighted the last part.
Rex sat on the edge of his desk and looked Chen in the eyes. `` Good, then maybe we can start again....without all that baggage, you know.''
Chen put the optic disc on the edge of the desk and made for the door. `` Look, do what you're gon na do just look after yourself, yeah.'' And then he closed the door.
Rex held the disc up to his phone as it scanned in the data.'*Please hold steady scanning. scanning. scanning. complete, data recognised from -- - no user details provided, proceed with caution. *' it said and then presented one file on the menu screen'Sorry.mp4'
He cast the file to his office desktop and up popped a video of Hester. Deliberately low res so that his implant's facial recognition would n't be able to flag her and block her. But he recognised her.
`` Hi, Rex.'' She began uncertainly. Just to see her in motion, saying his name... a bit of him stirred in hormonal soup as the implant wrestled to evaluate and suppress a memory.
`` I-um.'' she half chuckled and flashed him that smile, that smile that felt like coming home even though he could never remember coming home to her. `` I kept thinking about sending you this message and now I do n't know what to say.'' Amidst the pixels he could see Hester's mascara running. `` My friends tell me I loved you and... I believe them.''
He tried not to cry back but he could n't figure out how not to. He just gently sobbed with his hands cupped over his mouth. He looked up quickly and tinted the smart glass windows of his office.
In the video Hester held up a polaroid, just like the ones he took. Or maybe she took them, he wondered. It was a photo of them at a beach with'*Tel Aviv 09/09/2058*' written underneath. And then she held up another and another and another, they all looked so happy. `` I found a little box under my bed and it was full of all these little ticket stubs and cards and even a few poems....you're too good for a damn marketing department you know.'' She snuffled and laughed and rex laughed too. `` And I was cleaning out my desk when I found a note that I had written.''
On the video she bought up a piece of paper that had been crumpled and boxed at the edges. She read it. `` Rex Rigby, you have a name like an old pulp hero and you live up to it. You're strong and brave and you're a big, old fashioned romantic. We've known each other for twelve years, since college and I think deep down I've loved you for almost all of them. We've had our ups and downs but we've been so good since the promotion and we've finally got enough money together to build a life together and I want that with you. I want to live with you for the rest of my life as Misses Hester Beech-Rigby. If you'll have me.''
There was a long silence on the video as Hester wiped away her tears. Rex shook like a leaf as he tried to wipe his away too. The ache in his brain was hammering now as the implant tried to fight back against the chemical tide brewing in his mind.
`` I'm not saying we need to dive right back in at marriage but... Jesus I do n't know, I've had a lot of relationships and none of them came this close and none of them hurt so much I had to forget them. Maybe what happened to us should just stay forgotten but we can still try again. If-if you have anything to say back I wan na hear it. Just set your camera on low quality and give the disc to Chen.''
Rex nodded and turned on his computer's camera, low quality like she asked and looked straight at it with a trembling, tear streaked smile all across his face. `` Hello Hester Beech, I think I love you.''
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[ WP ] To keep Hell 's temperature stable Satan assigned you to keep an eye on the cooling water supply and clean it out every so often . Recently there have been a lot of ping pong balls and logs falling through with no explanation
| Gripthorn,
Comrade in horns and all things evil, I am not pleased.
No wait, that is a gross understatement. In fact, I'm totally fucking pissed at the half-ass tempting you and the rest of our surface operations team ( SOT ) have provided this quarter.
Back in my day, we would have thousands of new meals a week. Thick, crunchy adulterers and tangy, sweet liars. My favorite were the self-righteous church goers with their delicate notes brought out best by years of slow roasting... but I digress.
Clearly, with the further evolution of human morality you have begun to fail at your job. We thought the American elections and introduction of VR porn would help our cause, but it was futile.
I must say, those of us Below are getting..how should I put this..restless.
At a certain point, you have to lower your standards. I understand that, I really do..
But MOTHERFUCKING ping pong balls and logs?
The shit you've sent us is painfully bland and stale and tasteless I wonder if you've lost your mind or if your brain is just a useless sack of dicktips.
The board members and He Who Is Great have discussed this issue at great length and would like me to remind you of the eternal damnation reserved especially for those tempers who fails to put food on our tables.
So help me Satan, you must triple the soul production this month. I swear on all that is foul, if we receive one more log ( do they even have souls? ) it will be you we eat next and the fire upon which you are roasted for millennia will be fueled by your useless gifts of carbon-based-ass.
Your increasingly hungry officer,
-Grembrin
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[ WP ] A person has entered a videogame . Tell me what happens next
| I fell asleep on the couch, and I woke up in my bed. It wasn ’ t my bed though. I knew it was my bed, but it wasn ’ t. I knew I was in my bedroom, but I wasn ’ t. I walked out of the bedroom into the living room.
Everything in the room was white. White couch, white floor, white walls, white end tables. The only that wasn ’ t white was the floor to ceiling windows on the far side of the room.
I walked up to the windows and looked out. “ Holy shit, ” I whispered.
My view was of a large park like area with more buildings across from me. Flying cars zipped above it all. Birds flew in large flocks under a cloudless sky. I craned my neck to look farther up and saw the park, buildings, sky all curve up and away.
The Citadel. I was on the goddamn Citadel.
I started pacing back and forth. How the hell had this happened? This wasn ’ t real, but I had been playing Mass Effect before I fell asleep. Maybe it was lucid dreaming. I had heard about that. You know you ’ re dreaming and can control things in the dream world.
“ Something simple. Try to do something simple, ” I said. I looked around and saw a white vase with white flowers on a white end table. I scrunched up my face, grit my teeth, squinted my eyes and tried as hard as I could to move the vase off the table.
Nothing happened. The only thing I was success at was farting.
Maybe it wasn ’ t dream. Maybe it was real. Could it be real? No. No it couldn ’ t have been real. Did I travel into a different dimension where the Mass Effect universe was real? Were the writers of the game prophets?
I started to hyperventilate. My pacing picked up. I began to flap my hands as I walked. If this was real I ’ d be able to cut myself. It ’ d hurt. I ’ d bleed.
I bit down on my finger as hard as I could. I ripped off some loose, dead skin as hard as I could. So much pain and some blood. I concluded that this might be real, and I was stupid.
My pacing stopped. I sucked on my finger, trying to get the pain to subside. If this was real then the Reapers were still going to attack. I had to warn people about their impending doom.
Maybe I was actually Shepard. I could save the galaxy because I knew what was going to happen. I could get so much Quarian booty.
“ The Reapers are coming. They will destroy the Citadel. They are going to attack the Council. Everybody that isn ’ t essential personnel has to leave to be safe, ” I screamed as I ran out of my apartment and down the hall to the common areas.
“ Save yourselves. Prepare the defenses, ” I yelled in the common square.
Everyone gave me weird looks. No one was paying attention beyond making sure the avoid me.
“ The Reapers are coming. Why will no one listen to me? You ’ re all in great danger. ”
I noticed a Turian in C-Sec uniform making his way towards me. “ You have to listen to me. No one is safe on the Citadel, ” I yelled as I took off running.
More C-Sec personnel began to flank me. I was unfamiliar with this area of the Citadel. They had the advantage. Soon I would be arrested and my message would go unheeded.
Something tripped me, and I went sprawling. “ The Reapers. They ’ ll destroy everything, ” I gasped. All the wind had been knocked out of me.
“ Tell me about these Reapers. ”
I looked up at three figures standing over me. A woman, a Turian and a Krogan. “ Shepard? ” I said.
Shepard looked from the Turian to the Krogan.
“ Wrex? ” I said.
“ Tell me about the Reapers, ” said Shepard. She helped me up as the C-Sec personnel came running up.
“ They ’ re going to try to destroy everything if you aren ’ t ready. Please believe me, ” I pleaded.
“ I believe you. Come to the Normandy and tell me everything you know, ” Shepard said.
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[ WP ] You put a gun to your head and in that moment , forget everything , even the reason you were doing this in the first place .
| Owen had been in dangerous situations before, but nothing quite like this.
He sat, staring blankly at the revolver that he pulled from his temple moments ago. The gun appeared old and felt familiar, of that he was certain, and Owen knew that in confusing situations like this, one must rely on the certainties. There was no need to panic, not yet. He just had to think of the certainties.
At first, there were none. So, Owen sat... and held the revolver.
I am Lt. Owen Hartwell.
There! He had one! He was Lt. Owen Hartwell, WWII veteran, sitting with his old service revolver. He sat in silence, letting the terrible memories of the War wash over him, and waited for more.
I am married to Hazel Bay Hartwell.
Of course! He was married to the best looking gal in all of Boone County, of that he was certain. He smiled with relief and reminisced on his beautiful bride and the times they shared after the War.
We have four children and ten grandchildren.
William, Robert, Alfred, and Ruth Mary! How about it, he can picture them all! Was it ten grandchildren or eleven, now? It is n't so easy keeping track of the Hartwell clan anymore, not since...
Hazel died in 2008.
It was the cancer. He remembered those last months now, watching the love of his life wither away. The children were crying, but not Lt. Owen Hartwell. He remained stoic through the end, but how long has it been? Where was his family now? Where was he now?
Lt. Owen Hartwell sat and held his old service revolver, taking in his surroundings.
This is no way to live.
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[ wp ] A man is drowning , what is his internal monologue ?
| `` I'm not jumping, that does n't look safe.''
That's what my friend Matt said before i jumped off the bridge into the churning river. `` I'll go'' I said.
Now I'm being washed down the river. Why did I jump? The water's freezing. I'm exhausted. The water is pulling me down. I ca n't do this forever. There's no one around. `` HELP!'' No one can hear me. I'm totally alone. My mother. My mother is going to be so disappointed. What a shitty way to die. I'll never know my new nephew. I wonder....
Not like this. I ca n't die like this. Maybe i can get to the side of the river...
Not like this... not like-
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[ WP ] The Empire of Humanity is at war with an alien society . Something happens during a major battle that begins the process of peace between both sides .
| I realize this is n't during a major battle, but I misread the title and did n't realize until I already typed this, so please forgive me and enjoy.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Caption Ezra Lord was a legend, an XCOM agent that had been involved in every major conflict along with his squad, all deceased. He felt no fear, no pain, and never missed a shot. That was why he was sent to kill the alien leader, J'Kar Monz. The monster of space, the slayer of millions, probably billions.
Ezra studied the alien compound through the scope of his plasma rifle, hidden by his invisibility cloak, both acquired from the enemy. He was hundreds of miles behind enemy lines, having spent over months hiding day and night, and now he has found his target.
Monz had made Bangui, the former capital of the Central African Republic, his center of command on Earth. The alien leader was currently kneeling in a park, head bowed as if in prayer, all by himself. Ezra guessed that the alien did n't want to be bothered while in thought, thinking that he was safe. How wrong he was.
Ezra began to crawl through the tall, probably had n't been cut since it had been captured, towards the alien. He moved silently, appearing only as shimmer of light to those who eyes were sharp enough to perceive that much.
As Ezra drew close, he pulled his knife from his sheath, wanting to kill this bastard up and close. He could hear the alien talking to himself, only catching a few words through the grass, and decided to listen, having learned the alien's language during the currently three year long conflict.
`` Dear Unus, please forgive me for my sins, and please allow me entry into heaven, to be among you and your son, who had sacrificed himself so we can be saved,'' the alien asked quietly, `` I did n't want to kill these people, your other creations, but they fired first. We only wanted to speak with them, help them, but they were warmongers, savages. Please, help them and end this war peacefully, I do n't want to destroy this planet. Please do n't make me, please. Amen.''
Ezra was shocked, was this alien, from another planet really praying to the same god as billions of his own kind pray to? How is that possible? Ezra needed to know more, he sheathed his knife and drew his pistol. He stood slowly, drawing the attention of the alien. Ezra turned of his cloak and took a seat before Monz, both staring each other down, both sensing the weight of what was happening.
Ezra spoke first, `` You were praying to your god, tell me about him.''
`` Unus is the creator of our universe and all of our lives, but we were corrupt,'' the alien explained, never breaking eye contact, `` So he sent his only son, Junos, to be sacrificed so that we can be forgiven for our sins and be allowed into heaven.''
`` Do you have a story about a flood, and a guy building a big boat?'' Ezra asked, feeling strange.
`` When god was going to flood the world to punish it for it's sins, he alerted one of our kind, Moa, to build an ark, and he brought two of every animal on our planet on it. He then survived the flood with his family.''
`` How about a man splitting a sea in two?''
`` There was Menos, who freed our people from slavery and escaped the lands of Egeptin through the Blue Sea.''
Ezra and the alien overlord spoke for many hours, their differences forgotten and their similarities explored. Ezra was allowed to return to his superiors and tell them of his discovery, bringing messages of peace. He saved the world, not with violence, but by listening, talking, and understanding.
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[ WP ] The greatest hero the world has ever known , a man/woman of unparalleled strength , speed , wit and skill dies to the laughingstock of the super-villain world in the most pathetic way possible . Write how he/she dies to this hilariously incompetent villain .
| He always stuck around long enough to gloat, long enough to mug for the cameras and the fans. long enough to lift a car for the firemen that was n't really in their way, but boy, did he make it look cool. The way he had that damned smug smile every time he picked us up by scruff of our neck when he would load us into the paddy-wagons, and spout off his stupid platitudes to the onlookers ( If I had a dollar for every time I heard'Remember kids, crime does n't pay!' I wouldnt need to rob banks ). I respected the ones who just gave a beating, or left a guy tied up for the authorities- at least then you did n't get to see the news clips played on repeat on the TV in lockup.
I never really cared to be part of the cartel, but they look after their own. Technically, I did n't even have powers to qualify me to be in the meta-max wing, but on that night I was glad that I was in there with the scariest, and deadliest players. Lady luck must have been looking out for me that night, first the news came on with the bulletin of the assault. All the heavies in the Cartel who were n't in here with me hit the city like the wrath of god, did n't seem like there was any plan other than destroy everything. In hindsight, I see the plan worked even better than the boss could have hoped.
They hit fast and hard, I heard the whoomph of the perimeter wall go down, then not even a minute later, a little louder whoomph and the second wall was breached. The place went full red alert, and the hacks all started scrambling. Their radios were just howling chaos by the time the last wall blew open, super reinforced concrete, steel and god knows what else spraying across the cell block. The hacks barely stood a chance, the lucky ones were killed in the explosion, the ones wounded didnt even have the chance to lament their plight before the doors opened, and even though the collars killed whatever powers a guy had, a hundred angry criminals with a chance at freedom will get the job done.
HE showed up just as the main switch to the collars were killed, but it did n't even matter. I hid really, I'm not even in the weight class that they even have a collar on me. They clattered to the ground, and I saw his eyes get a lot harder than they ever do for the TV cameras, and he smiled. I scrambled and got to the control room, and in all honesty I didnt really see a lot of what heppened, but I could hear him laugh as he was punching his way through all the would be escapees, he took his fair share of shots, nothing that slowed him down more than it took for him to dust the remnants of a wall off his cape, except for that last time.
The last minute was so slowed down I could probably remember how many raindrops were pouring in from outside- The moment before I remember cowering for cover as I got showered with the glass as he came flying through it. I saw the collar on the ground and before I could even contemplate at just how stupid an idea it was, I had grabbed it and was skittering across the room to get it on him before he got up. For what it is meant to do, it snapped on a lot smoother and easier than I expected. His eyes snapped open and he grabbed me by the throat, his grip thankfully still restrained enough that he didnt just pop my head off like a dandelion. He tossed me across the room before he realized who I was, then he laughed. That smug prick laugh of his. His laugh cut short when he realized where exactly we were, and what he had thrown me next to.
The collar power switch.
Before his mouth could even open to say'Stop' I slammed my fistdown on the switch, the red lights coming on the indicator on the front of his ( and anyone who didnt rip theirs off the second the power was killed in the first place ) and I swear I could see the strength just drain right out of him. An added security feature of the collars ( which actually made me glad that I wasnt powerful enough to rate getting one ) was that in addition to counteracting the powers of any enhanced person, if the prison was in an alarm state, it shocked anyone wearing one to the point that they could not resist detainment.
Or, defend themselves.
My body shaking with Adrenaline, I grabbed a shard of the glass ( which wasnt supposed to break, but if a guy who can bench press a tank throws someone through it, its going to break ) and without even thinking, I darted over to him grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hissed `` I guess crime does pay, huh?'' into his ear as I jammed the shard into the side of his neck. Again, and again. His blood came out in gouts, splattering against me, before he dropped to the ground.
The greatest hero the planets has known, shived to death in prison like a bitch. Powers or not, I think people will take me a little more serious now.
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[ WP ] There is a rank system similar to military in heaven and hell . Once you go above or drop below the threshold you go to the other kingdom . The highest ranking person in hell is about to become the lowest rank in heaven , how does he feel ?
| `` Today is the day''. Alexander Clenched his fist in the air standing on his Golden throne, looking down on his subjects, his armor and crown shining on the darkness below. The souls of hell looked up an screamed his name not out of happiness for their leader, but knowing that his spot will soon open up for the taking. Tears streamed down Alexander's face. `` After all these years of hard work I can finally see her again''. Alexander looked down one more time at his subjects and reflected on his years working his way up. `` I've betrayed and killed for over 50 years just to get into this position. If I wanted I could stay in it forever.'' Alexander pondered on all those in his position before him who decided to go to heaven. Alexander turned from from his followers into the portal leading to heaven. The gate to the portal had an inscription that read `` Absolute power corrupts absolutely''. `` I'm coming Laura''. He opened the portal. Alexander arrived in a palace of white which made him feel warm inside. Inside he saw a flight of stairs he looked up to a women sitting on a throne that shined brighter than his. `` Laura?!'' Alexander began to climb up the steps. Two angels blocked his paths. `` Never address God without permission grunt.'' `` Laura it's me your husband!'' he screamed. They made eye contact for the first time in 50 years and in them Alexander saw his past self. `` Take it away from me.'' said Laura. As he was being dragged away he remembered the inscription.
`` Absolute Power corrupts Absolutely''.
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[ WP ] A spacecraft traveling to a distant colony planet , transporting thousands of people , has a malfunction in it 's hypersleep chambers . As a result , two passengers are awakened 60 years early .
| I watched as my breath slowly began to fog against the glass.
Panic gripped my heart as I realized my body was returning to it's natural state out of the cryogenic sleep. It was dark out. That was n't supposed to happen.
The hiss of escaping air made me panic as I struggled to breathe the dense oxygen. The ship's ventilators were pumping at half speed, barely enough to keep the passenger pods alive.
*thum thum thum*
`` Hello?'' the woman's muffled voice cried. `` Hello? Are you awake?''
My body revolted by the sudden intake of fresh air began its coughing fits as I dropped out of the pod onto my knees. Gasping. Long drawn out pulls of recycled air.
`` What happened? Who are you?'' I hissed as I looked out the windows, my stomach dropping in fear at what I saw. We were nowhere near colony MRRAX119. We were in deep space.
`` My pod malfunctioned. It opened on its own. The files said you were a mechanic.'' She pleaded.
`` A car mechanic. Not this. These things are n't meant to open and reseal. It's a one time thing lady!'' I hissed as I grew irritated.
`` I'm sorry John. I just wanted help.''
`` You just wanted to help yourself.'' I growled. Tears began to form in her deep, auburn eyes as she stared at me.
`` I'm sorry. I tried on my own but I could n't. I tried everything.'' Wet drops raced down her cheeks and falling onto the ground. Her sobbing gasps wasting precious air.
`` No it's done. It's fine.'' I whispered. Always being a sucker for a set of eyes. I shook my head in disbelief and continued. `` Let's take a look at it.''
I walked past dozens of frozen people. Like statues inside protective glass until finally I came to hers. Tools and pieces of metal lay thrown about. Screws, nuts and washers out of place and disorganized. Sighing in a deep, meaningful way i began to work. Little did I know how worthless it'd be.
Days turned into weeks that turned into months until eventually I gave up.
`` Sorry Jas. I ca n't do it.'' Sitting befuddled as Jasmine played with her longer hair. She had lost several pounds to their diminishing rations but over time I had grown fond of her. Her art. Her voice. It was all I could do.
*I'll get you out of this Jas. *
`` Maybe my pod can hold us both? Maybe I can gear it to up the power supply and output. I do n't know, it's worth a shot.''
With her approval I began my work. Little did she know how much I was accomplishing. Still, i rigged the long wired controller and made the whole of it look good and it was n't long before I climbed into the vat with Jas. Pulling in the controller behind us.
Her body shivered with a mix of excitement and malnutrition, she leaned against the wall and smiled.
`` Bit cramped. `` she crooned. `` Think you can give me some space John?''
I nodded. Tears begging to form.
`` I know John, I'm excited too. Finally we'll be able sleep till we arrive.'' She said, longing for that restful state.
`` Yeah Jas. It's gon na be great.''
I strapped her in to fight against the shock. Promising her I would do my own next, but as the doors lowered I stepped out. Her panicked, furious eyes bore into me an image I was n't bound to forget any time soon. `` JOHN!'' she screamed in rage. `` WHAT ARE YOU DOING?''
I smiled as the glass came down, separating us with a finality as I stared through it to the panicked woman inside.
`` Quiet love. You'll wake the neighbors.''
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[ WP ] You have been completely paralyzed . Your mind is perfectly in tact , but nobody else knows this . They 're about to pull the plug .
| I knew I should n't have let Dave drive, but he gets so very stubborn when he's drunk. It nearly came to blows, but I relented and let him drive anyways. After all, it was only a few miles. Where was the harm in letting him have his way?
Then there was the crash, and things went dark. I'm pretty sure I faded in and out of consciousness several times, but it was hard to tell the difference between dreaming and reality. I suspect that a concussion was responsible for that.
Eventually, lucidity found me. My thoughts were still somewhat muddled, but I was no longer slipping into unconsciousness. I had the benefit of hearing, but I discovered to my frustration that I could neither open my eyes nor move my body.
Damn this.
I still had feeling in my face and a sense of smell, however, and that at least was telling me something of my surroundings. The air was slightly cool and still and dry. It smelled clean, almost sterile. A hospital, then? That would make sense, considering that I was in a crash. To my right I heard the low humming of electronic equipment.
Well, I had time to think.
I should n't have gotten into that car. Dumb decision. Dumb Dave. I ca n't believe that I let Dave drive like that. Oh. Fuck. How is Dave, anyways? Jesus I hope he did n't end up like me. This whole'not moving' thing is going to be a pain. I hope he's not dead though. He does n't deserve that.
Oh Jesus, what about the people in the other car? Are they okay? No, no no no no no no NO. I could n't live with myself if they ended up dead or maimed. This is all my fault. All my goddamned fault. I'm a fucking failure. Maybe this is my penance. Maybe this-
I heard the sound of a door opening, and several sets of footsteps entering the room.
`` Are you sure you want to see this, Ms Julia? I understand that seeing your loved one in this state can be, ah, distressing.'' The voice was male. Kind of nasally, but low at the same time.
`` No. I want to see him. I figure that if I have to make this decision, then I damn well better see him before I make it.'' My sister's voice. Funny, it's always hard to describe the voice of someone close to you. It's like trying to describe color or touch. You ca n't imagine life without it, so you ca n't describe it.
`` Very well'' The sound of a curtain sliding on its bearings, and a sharp intake of breath from my sister.
^^^'' Fuck...'' she murmured. `` He does n't look like he's in pain. He's not in pain, is he?''
`` He's braindead. As far as modern medicine knows, he does n't feel anything at all.''
Hah. So much for modern medicine.
`` Shit,'' my sister said, `` how are the other people involved? I was never told.''
If I could have held my breath, I would have.
`` The driver of the car your brother was in died on the way to the hospital,'' Damn. Poor Dave. He did n't deserve that. `` The passengers in the other car only suffered relatively minor injuries, however.''
Thank God. Relief poured through me and the burden on my mind lifted a little.
`` Shit...'' my sister again. `` Are, uhm, are Dave's parents here? Do they know what happened yet?''
`` Yes.''
`` Oh.''
There was a shuffling of feet from where the doctor's voice was coming from. `` So, do you want me to leave you alone so you can make your decision?''
`` Can you stay here for a minute please? I do n't want to be here alone.''
`` Sure.''
My sister sighed, and I suddenly realized what decision they were talking about. Euthanasia. The thing they do to braindead people.
I should have been terrified. I should have been ( metaphorically ) quaking. But the only thing my brain was able to produce was a resounding *huh*.
I could n't move. I could n't see. My existence would probably be miserable if I lived. No books, no TV, no more hiking or drinking, no more sex, no more friends, no more talking about shitty drunk sex to friends.
The rest of my existence was in the hands of my sister.
I thought about my memories with her. The time I put a dead mouse in her shoe when I was little. The times she held me down and put clown makeup on me. The ride together to Grandpa's house after Mom died. Standing alone in the cemetery after Grandpa died. We had our disagreements and our spats, but we were family and we loved each other. We took care of each other through our dumb decisions, and were there to celebrate our successes together.
There was no one better to decide my fate.
`` Do it'' she finally said.
`` Are you sure? Thi-''
`` Do it.'' She said, a little more firmly.
`` As you wish.''
They left the room, and I was by myself for a few hours. I thought about my life. I thought about the friends, and the lovers. I thought about the books I had read and the movies I had watched.
Finally, a group of people came in, and set to work with the air of people who have a somber duty to do. After a while, my consciousness began to fade, and a quote from a book popped out at me:
>'' What's this then? Should n't my whole life flash before my eyes now?''
> PEOPLE'S LIVE DO FLASH BEFORE THEIR EYES, said Death, THE PROCESS IS CALLED'LIVING.'
And, in my final moments, as my mind descended into something that, for lack of a better word, can only be described as utter blackness, a final thought formed in my mind.
Aw, fuck.
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[ WP ] Pick an obscure phobia , and give that phobia to the reader .
| One by one, we conquered them. So many people died horrible, painful deaths that seemed wholly unnecessary after the war, but we did it. Sure, there are wars being waged in other corners of the world where they have n't discovered the truth like we have or they're just too damned poor, sick or dying to fight. But we figured out how to win. How to succeed.
For a century now, we've kept the war at bay because we have the best weapons. They're plentiful and available to nearly every single one of us. But consider for a moment what would happen if those weapons, all at once, ceased to work.
I speak not of bullets and grenades, but of cures and antibiotics. At times we waged wars and lost so many without even realizing who or what we were up against. All along, we thought other humans were the problem but it was all just a ploy, most genius in its subtlety, by the germs.
You think you're safe. You hide behind your vaccinations, your soaps, your kitchen cleaners, but what if I told you that's exactly what they want?
I know you think I'm crazy and I do n't blame you. Not too long ago, I was just like you. Or perhaps I was like a slightly more neurotic version of you. Okay, maybe a lot more neurotic. You've seen that show Monk, right? Well, think about that guy but I did n't let anyone in and I did n't go outside, unless it was absolutely necessary.
For example, when the cable guy came in, he had to wear a special coat and those shoe covers that doctors wear in hospitals. Luckily, I have a friend in the health industry; he knew me before the phobia set in and was willing to `` help.'' If you can call that helping.
Of course, now you're thinking -- how is that any way to live? You're right. It's a *terrible* way to live. It's not even living -- it's building a wall while the enemy figures out all your weaknesses on the outside, builds you a special gift -- wrapped in antimicrobial material -- and then climbs inside. Hell, let's just say it's shaped like a horse. No one's ever done that before.
But I'm smart, okay? I've *outwitted* those little buggers. I know how they think now!
Sure, the first few weeks were hell. My house went from surgically clean to a hoarder's nightmare. I mean, we're talking heaps of trash, human feces in sporadic locations, and a narrow, precarious path through all of it to get to my various locations. And bathing? I stopped doing that. The bathroom became just another place to wage my silent war.
Early on, I caught the flu and it was bad. That was when I started -- all I did was leave the window open. Just to show them I was n't going to let them rule my life. After the shakes, I started to throw up everywhere and even worse, well, you know what happens with a violent flu. Normally, I would have completely replaced the patch of carpet -- including a nice margin, just in case -- after thoroughly disinfecting the floorboards beneath, but this time I just let it flow. I really did think I was going to die. I welcomed death.
But death never came.
My body did heal itself and that's when I knew I'd figured them out.
The first thing I did was throw out all my cleaning supplies: bleach, bleach wipes, bag-less vacuum cleaner, gloves, masks, carpet cleaner, wood floor cleaner, dust remover, etc. Those were the last things to touch the outside trash can that gets emptied by the garbage trucks every Wednesday. After that, that thing was sparkling compared to this stinking heap of rubbish.
Yes, I have gotten sick since then. Plenty of times. I'm in a cocoon of human filth here, after all. I'm all crusted with food, vomit and feces -- the whole shebang.
Sure, go ahead and laugh. But when the germs come to take you, who will be laughing then?
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[ WP ] The main character realizes that he/she is the main character in a story and starts disobeying your directions
| Steven Finn awoke, as he always had, at a quarter to 8.
He had always been an obedient man - never asking too many questions, never going against the grain. It was nice that way. It was calm. Safe.
He hopped into the shower despite his grogginess and began to plan his day. *Take the L train, switch at 14th street, and arrive 15 minutes early at the office, just like usual. *
When he got out of the shower, he looked in the mirror. Steven had an ordinary face. No one would truly call him ugly, but neither would they admire his features. He picked up his razor and began to shave.
He picked up his razor and began to shave.
After dressing, he left his apartment and began the familiar, silent walk to the train station. He looked down at his phone to search for a song to blot out the sounds of the city. Interacting with others was never his strong suit, so he liked to have a way to avoid it.
`` Hi. How's your day?''
... Steven accidentally said to a stranger. This was strange for him, and he began to wonder what could have prompted him to blurt out an uncharacteristic greeting like that.
The stranger ignored him and Steven continued on his way. He picked up his phone again and chose one of his favorite soothing, subtle jazz pieces: `` Brooklyn's Finest'' by Jay-Z. Steven knew perfectly well that this was not his usual type of song, and made a mental note to have this be the last time he deviated from his typical path.
He boarded the N train.
He immediately got off the N train, and boarded the L. That was the correct way to his office.
He waited patiently amongst the mass of people. He did n't dare to move, lest he bother the sweaty strangers around him.
`` Watch it, man!''
The young teenager with a large backpack reacted as he should have to Steven's bizarre physical outburst. It was a foolish thing to do for a grown adult, and Steven really should have known better. This was beginning to be too strange a day, and so he shook off all that had happened and waited for his stop.
14th street station. How many times had he looked up at that sign? As he exited the train, he tried to count:
`` Why does it even matter?'' Steven thought. `` I do n't really care how many times -''
Steven instantly stopped this train of thought, and exited the subway car. He had to exit quickly before the doors closed.
The doors were closing. It became clear that Steven was n't going to leave, and a stranger mistakenly forced him out of the doors. It was a good thing too, because Steven might have been late to work otherwise. There was a strange glint in Steven's eye as he kept walking.
-- -
He arrived in front of his building a few minutes later than he would have liked. He entered the Starbucks around the corner.
Surely this would be quick detour, as he knew he should n't be late. This deviation from his routine was beginning to grow tiresome, and Steven knew that if he continued to do so, there would likely be unavoidable consequences.
Steven quickly grabbed his coffee and left. It was extremely hot and burned his tongue as he drank it. Perhaps that would teach him a lesson for next time. He approached his building, paused, and looked up - delaying. This was a bad idea.
Suddenly, a man in a hurry crashed into Steven's back, knocking him to the ground. He landed in an unnatural, painful way, and let out a cry. The hurried man, who had done nothing wrong in truth, cursed at him and entered the office building. That was a man who knew how to behave, and Steven took note. Unfortunately, his piping hot coffee had spilled all over his shirt, which only furthered his embarrassment.
That was truly a shame.
Steven slowly got up. He brushed hims - Steven got up. He got up off the ground, because there was no point in lying there. He must have been losing his mind, because if he thinks he ca - Steven finally got up.
Covered in coffee and limping, he made his way into his office. All his coworkers stared daggers at him. `` What an idiot. What a truly stupid, stupid man.'' They all thought in unison. They would never have told him this on a regular, normal day, but they all hated him. He did have an ugly face, and he was n't half the man he thought he was.
Steven stopped his sudden crying - what kind of way is that to behave in an office setting? There, there. That's enough, Steven. He entered the elevator, alone. All alone.
Steven remained motionless. Inexplicably, the 12th floor light lit up, and the elevator began to move. Two floors from the top, right where he should be. Steven hit the emergency stop button in a futile attempt to assert his control, but of course, nothing happened. The doors opened.
Steven began to run.
He headed for the stairwell, but a large coworker blocked his -
Steven slammed his fist into the overweight man's abdomen and continued to flee. He ran up one set of stairs, but grew extremely winded. Where was he going? He had no escape plan, no way out. Steven was truly a fool. But where...?
He emerged on the roof. The sounds of the busy streets echoed below him, as he walked toward the edge.
What are you doing? Steven, knock it off.
He approached the ledge, but stepped back.
He approached again. He... this was crazy, and any moment now would stop. But he remained on the ledge.
Steven? Just back away. Take a step back. Please. There's no reason to go any further. We need each other.
Steven looked down at the street, his body and mind aching. He drew a deep breath.
There was nothing around to stop him. What about his coworkers? Maybe one could race up to help him. No, there is n't time. Maybe a bird swoops by?
A bird swooped by, but Steven batted it away without a thought.
This was bad. Steven, are you listening? I'm sorry, okay? Can you please just stop? If you do this, we're both going -
Steven jumped.
|
[ WP ] You are the world , and humanity has decimated you in a nuclear holocaust . You are now left alone with only your thoughts .
| I am not much of a writer...
I remember you all. You guys lived with me. You grew your own little groups and fought... Some of you made up, and some of you didnt. I wish you guys had n't fought though... I was so happy when you guys were born! You lived with me, but that one, horrible night. One group decided that they were gon na prank ( I hope it was supposed to be a prank ) the others... But, it happened so fast... the terror, the screams... The war between you all chain-reacted into the distinction of everything. Except for me, Earth... I'm not totally alone, though...
|
[ WP ] You 've lived in the same house for over ten years and since you moved in there 's been a watermark on the ceiling above your bed loosely in the shape of a '5 ' . You finally decide to paint over it but that night you climb into bed and the mark is already back . And it 's in the shape of a '4 ' .
| “ Hey honey, I've got the paint. ” Ray shouted as he entered the house. “ Lindsay? Millie? ”
“ Shh Dad! I'm trying to win. ” Came from the living room. Ray went in there first. His daughter was focused on a video game. Frustrated noises were coming out of her.
“ Where's your mom? ”
“ Answer- Come on go faster! - unknown. ”
“ Thanks. ”
“ Yep. ”
Ray shook his head before going upstairs. “ Lindsay? ”
“ In here. ”
The call came from the master bedroom, so that is where Ray went. His wife was laying on the bed staring up at the ceiling. Ray set down the can of paint beside the bed before laying next to her. “ What are you doing dear? ”
“ Thinking I guess. ”
“ About what? ”
“ Moving. ”
“ It really is a great job. Very secure. There are good schools- ”
Lindsay sighed, “ I know. I just loved this house. This area. All of our friends are here. Our parents. ” Ray took her hand. “ But you're right it's a great opportunity. Come on, let's get this paint on the ceiling. ”
“ I assume by us you mean me? ” Ray asked.
“ It's a high ceiling. I mean I could jump and try to get the paint up there, but what if I fell? ”
“ I'd have to hide the body. I know a few- ”
Lindsay smacked his arm. “ Hush you and get painting. ”
“ Yes dear. ”
“ I'm going to get started on dinner. ”
Ray grabbed the paint can and a brush he had brought to the bedroom previously. He stood on the bed and studied the ceiling. Since they moved in, there had been a watermark above their bed. He tilted his head. It almost looked like the number five. Lindsay thought it gave the house character, otherwise Ray would have painted over it years ago. Ray shrugged and got started.
-*-*
Ray was n't sure what woke him, just that he was suddenly awake. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark. When they did, he shouted. “ Jesus Christ Millie! ” His daughter, who was standing at the foot of his bed, jumped.
“ What! ” Lindsay sat straight up. “ What's wrong? ”
“ I had a bad dream. ” Millie said quietly.
“ And you decided to scare the hell out of us as well? ” Ray said trying to slow his breathing. Millie's lip started to tremble. “ Come here. I'm sorry. Next time shake me or something. Do n't try to give your Dad a heart attack. ”
Millie climbed over Ray so that she was in between Lindsay and him. They began to slowly fall back to sleep when Millie said, “ Dad, I thought you painted the ceiling. ”
“ I did sweetie. ”
“ Then why is there a glowing four? ”
“ What! ” Ray's eyes opened quickly. A faintly glowing watermark in the shape of what could be considered the number four was on the ceiling. In the same place where the old watermark was. “ Let's just go outside for a moment. ” Ray said getting out of bed. “ Come on Millie. ”
The bedroom door which was open slammed shut. Millie let out a scream before latching on to Lindsay. “ It's okay. I'm sure it was just the wind. Come on, let's go outside. ” Ray held out his hands to take Millie.
“ Daddy the ceiling. ” Millie said transfixed.
Ray and Lindsay looked up. The ceiling was glowing brighter. New watermarks were appearing.
'NO'
'DO NOT LEAVE ME'
'STAY WITH ME TIL YOU DIE'
'STAY WITH ME FOREVER'
“ I do n't want to die! ” Millie shrieked.
Just as suddenly as the glowing had appeared, it vanished. There was no light for a moment and then a very dim glow around the word,'WHAT?'
“ Please do n't kill my family. ” Ray said. “ Take me but let them go. ”
The glow pulsed twice still illuminating the word'WHAT?' Then the word began to change.'KILL YOU? I WOULD NEVER! I HAVE TAKEN CARE OF YOU FOR THE LAST 10 YEARS. WHY WOULD I EVER KILL YOU.' A great gush of wind rushed through the house and the boards began to creak.
“ Daddy is the house crying? ” Millie asked.
“ I don't- Maybe? ” Ray said slowly.
'YOU HAVE TAKEN SUCH GOOD CARE OF ME. BUT NOW YOU ARE LEAVING ME. LIKE THE OTHERS. ONLY 4 FAMILIES HAVE STAYED WITH ME TO THE END. I THOUGHT YOU WOULD BE THE FIFTH.'
Ray looked at Lindsay, who was bewildered, and then back to the ceiling. “ Um. Listen it's not you, it's me. ”
'... ARE YOU GIVING ME A BREAK UP SPEECH?'
“ Really Daddy? ”
This was enough to break Lindsay out of her stupor to stare at him. “ Honestly Ray. ”
Ray glared at his family and then the ceiling. “ Well it's true. I got really great job but it's in another state. I would stay if I could. I like this house... or um you. ”
'YES LIFE CHANGES. I WAS HOPING YOU WOULD STAY IF I SPOKE TO YOU. I DID NOT MEAN TO FRIGHTEN YOU. GOODBYE AND GOODLUCK.'
The family was silent until the words glow faded and the watermark of the number four reappeared. Millie patted the wall and laid down, “ Goodnight house. I love you. ”
Lindsay and Ray looked at each and then back at the ceiling. Lindsay shrugged before laying down. She patted the wall as well. Ray finally got back into bed. He put his hand on the wall. “ Um. Night house. Thanks for not killing us. ”
'OF COURSE.'
|
[ WP ] The pill that decreases aging has been released , but you decided not to take it . It was a good call , because a few decades later , side effects started to emerge .
| ( this is my first story here so apologies!! )
The meeting took place in some palace in Nepal. The exterior was manicured exactly to Their specifications- a bit decrepit, so as not to attract attention, naturally aged, but nothing too serious as to disturb the people inside. After all, they were a collection of the wealthiest, most influential individuals in the world. They sat in wooden seats and rested their wrinkled hands on wooden desks, surviving treasures from a greener age. Impatient, they drummed their stiff fingers, waiting for the thin Russian man with a youthful smile and perfect hands to begin his speech.
He was instantly captivating, his words- automatically translated thanks to cochlear implants- promising eternal youth by ingesting only a small pill which freezes and reverses the aging process to its most optimal state.
The man spread his arms outward in a sweeping gesture.
`` This pill will be the key to a happy, stable society for all. That is truly my wish, and I believe we can accomplish it.''
It would allow the leaders of the world, he continued, to rule their country for hundreds of years. Simply place a new puppet leader on the throne every so often and pull the strings. He concluded his pitch, stating that the pill would be available only to those in the room, and at a price of only $ 1.5 billion each, payable over two hundred years or death, whichever came sooner.
`` Likely, the former,'' the man smiled.
A large clamor ensued as every man and woman in the room demanded a pill. Except for one rather plain looking man sitting in the far back of the room, who only continued to drum his fingers at an increasingly erratic rate.
_____
It had been thirty years since then, and the man's seat as prime minister of Norway had long since expired. He was lucky to have escaped the countless tragedies that had begun to plague the world at a gruesome rate- genocides, natural disasters, and entire countries left uninhabitable due to pollution.
He lived now in a retirement home, forgotten by the world and its leaders. An old man like him was of no use to them. He sighed. He had not seen anyone from that palace room since that day; but he could picture them now, young twenty-somethings who grasped the fate of humanity in their hands and chose to spin it, spin it like a wooden top and laugh at wherever it fell.
The man was roused from his thoughts when he heard the daily paper being slipped through his door by a tired old nurse. He began reading as per usual, glancing at the headline. He expected to see yet another story about millions dying in some kind of tragedy. But instead, he read the story of a young Russian man who had apparently stabbed, shot, maimed and burned himself hundreds of times, but was mysteriously unable to die.
|
[ CW ] Click on the `` Random Wikipedia Article '' link twice . Write a story that combines both topics . See if readers can guess which two pages you landed on .
| A question reader: what do the electoral results for the district of Wagga Wagga and the Metro-North Railroad's Beacon Line east of the Hudson River have in common? Hm, speechless are we?
How about Japanese silk and ferroelectric RAM? The classic'You've Got to Share Songs for Children' album by Don McLean and William Hare, 1st Earl of Listowel? Manuel Duarte and Sierra de Cazorla?
I bet you ca n't even see through the lines when it comes to'Baby Wo n't You Please Come Home' and Rosaleen, you buffoon. You're less a Peter of Toledo and more a Daimon Hellstro; heck, I bet you're from Winnemucca, Nevada, and your favourite astronaut is Georgi Grechko or something. You probably spend all day listening to *Wrath of Caine* because of your'medical insult'.
It's a conspiracy man! See the world by Train! John Twomey! Ma'mun al-Hudaybi! The 2003 Dallas Cowboys season! IT'S ALL THERE IF YOU JUST TAKE INTO ACCOUNT THE FACTS! WAKE UP SHEEPLE! BRITISH AUTHOR DAN SMITH AND PETER L. BERGER WERE RIGHT!!!
|
[ WP ] Write the trailer of Hollywood 's next gritty reboot , based on a classic joke .
| They could n't change the world through religion. They could n't even change each other's minds. But this fall... The law will change one of them forever.
|Flashes show sequentially a handshake between two men, a warm smile, a test being taken, a briefcase exchange, a confessional and a slow motion footstep
|Scene turns to the two men looking heated over dinner
`` I know you have the information to take this down.''
`` You know I ca n't break my client's confidentiality Joachim.''
`` This wo n't be the last you'll hear about this.''
|Two gentleman dressed in suits and briefcases walk down a corridor. One is near tears.
`` You do n't understand how much this is going to cost you! Stop while Elohim still has mercy for the wicked.''
`` Nothing will change my mind. It's time for justice to take due course.''
|Cut to a bathroom stall where both men are bloodied after some sort of scuffle. One pulls out a stained picture of a child.
`` Are you willing to sacrifice her life for your vows? ARE YOU?!''
`` Lord have mercy... What have I done?''
'A Priest and a Rabbi walk into the Bar'
|
[ IP ] Nighthawks
| > `` I have noticed that when a certain type of feature appears in painting and is admired as beautiful, it presently becomes common in nature; so that the Beatrices and Francescas in the picture galleries of one generation come to life as the parlor-maids and waitresses of the next.''
> – George Bernard Shaw.
___________
Sue Foster sits alone at a cheap diner in Greenwich Village, quietly humming sweet nothings into a glass of rum. An old man wipes down the counter. A young couple quietly talk among themselves. Sue ca n't help but think of his first day in school. He remembers it well. It was the day he learned two very important things about himself.
1. Sue is a girl's name.
2. Sue rhymes with'poo.'
Gretchen Harlow discovered these hilarious connections and immediately shared the epiphany with her classmates. This was also the time Sue learned the devastating effect of a child ’ s laugh when it comes at your expense, the efficacy of which only gets stronger as the victim gets older. After returning home from school, his face streaky with dry tracks of plangent tears, he asked his mother the same question.
“ Because your daddy was a Johnny Cash fan, ” she said.
To be more specific, Sue was named after a song recorded by Mr. Cash at California ’ s San Quentin State Prison in February 1969. His father, Ted Foster, was among the privileged in attendance that day ( [ you can even see him smiling in the footage from that famous night ] ( http: //www.dailymotion.com/video/xp5gwi_johnny-cash-a-boy-named-sue-live-at-san-quentin-jail-1969_music ), at precisely 41 seconds. )
Well did n't that give old Teddy the best idea, and sure enough, six years later, Sue Foster was born. And sure enough, Teddy was a dead-beat dad, and Sue Foster bullied mercilessly for his name growing up. And sure enough, Sue started to resent his father. And sure enough, after a while, killing him seemed like the only logical thing to do.
The couple get their cheque and leave. Sue looks at the old man. He should probably introduce himself.
|
[ IP ] The Road Goes Ever On
| Gurch shouldered his pack with a wince, the padding he had wrapped around the leather strap had become tattered and frayed, hardly loose strings of wool anymore. With his other hand he gripped the front of his pants and hoisted them higher, giving his belt a strong yank to try and tighten its ever slipping hold on his dignity. One of these days his trousers would drop right to his feet, likely an the most inopportune time. His eyes searched the trail ahead and saw the figure of a man leaning back against a tree. He felt the soft pressure of his sword on his thigh, but the man was not trying to hide from sight, and surely was n't making himself look like a threat. His eyes shifted left, and then right. It was growing dim, a few hours from sunset, and the chill had brought a mist with it. Easy to hide accomplices in the forest at a time like this. He lurched his shoulder again, the contents felt even heavier at moments like this.
He approached with caution. The man was older, much older than himself. His hair had gone near completely gray outside of a few dark streaks. His skin was unmistakably tattered by many years of facing the elements. He had cool, blue eyes, that showed not the slightest sign of concern, his mustache shifted as he gave Gurch a grin.
`` Ay, wanderer.'' He said. For some reason, Gurch had expected his voice to be more raspy. A lone traveler of advanced age, perhaps his voice was the one thing that saw little use over the years.
Gurch nodded wordlessly, perhaps the encounter would be done with that.
`` Cold night ahead.'' The man continued.
Gurch winced and stopped, not one to shrug off manners, even out here. Always proper to let an elder ramble on a bit, even if his words are useless. `` I can feel it.'' He replied plainly. He took a moment to examine the man a bit more thoroughly. Familiar, but more ragged clothes. Same sort that he wore, as plain as plain could be. Functional, devoid of any sort of signs of country or clan. A simple sword on the hip, the grip worn down and faded white in parts. A pack lie in a heap by his feet, who could guess what was inside, except for the handle of a well used cooking pot poking out of the top of it. All a mirror image of himself if he had skipped ahead thirty odd years.
The man seemed to have the same thought, `` Ah, now I see. Prisoner to the road.'' His grin was unwavering.
`` Huh?'' Gurch asked with a huff.
His heel kicked back against his pack, `` Burden on your back, not your own is it? Not entirely anyway.''
Gurch's palm fell on the hilt of his sword.
The man's posture remained unchanged, `` Do n't worry. I'm alone, and, if I may be honest-''
Gurch took a long stride back as the man reached for his own sword, it was nearly out of its sheath before the man dropped the blade on the ground in front of him, or what was left of it. The old man's sword was more tattered than his clothes. Rusted and chipped, missing a few inches off his point.
`` They say a man's sword dies before the man, though I'm sure they do n't mean to take it so literally.'' The man chuckled then shrugged, `` Though, I'd lost the taste for using it some years ago.''
Gurch eased his sword back into its sheath, `` You're a carrier then?'' He asked.
`` Aye.'' He nodded.
Another obstacle successfully avoided, Gurch let himself sigh, `` How far on, till the next village.''
The man frowned at him, `` Do n't make me the courier of bad news.''
Gurch felt his heart sink a little. He stared up the road.
`` It goes ever on, the road.'' The man said, his gaze shifting to where Gurch had come from. `` When I started, I had almost your same face. Same hair.'' He chuckled, `` They have their type.''
Gurch arched his back, felt the sting of chaffed skin on his shoulder, the pebble in his shoe that he could never seem to shake out, `` Any concerns up ahead?''
`` Oh, none that I can help you avoid now. Not now that you've got your feet on the road.''
`` That bad. This work?'' Gurch asked.
The man chuckled, `` Oh, no. Do n't mind me, we grow grumpy with age at times.'' He finally pushed himself away from the tree and rotated his hips side to side, `` A cold night ahead.'' He said, bringing their talk in a circle.
Gurch nodded, `` I know that much.''
`` Two setsof hands build a bigger fire.'' The man offered, `` A trick of the road.''
Gurch nodded, staring down into the misty distance. No sign of a break in the forest. Imagined it would be a long time yet, for that. It felt an eternity already. He eyed the old man, like looking in a magic mirror. `` Alright.'' He said.
|
[ WP ] The Rule of Cool is actual science . The more badass something looks , the better it works .
| The lab door flew open so hard it dented the adjacent wall, the noise making Doctor Servins wince in pain. He looked up from the diagrams of his new idea for a particle collider, which included racing stripes and strobe lights. He had also considered the idea of making it into a giant robot, but decided that might be a little out there, even for him. `` Hello... Kovall...'' he said.
Kovall stood in the open door, unaware of the obvious question in his co-worker's voice. `` DUDE! I, DOCTOR KRIS KALVIN KOVALL, AM ABOUT TO INVENT THE MOST AWESOME THING KNOWN TO MAN!'' Kovall whipped off his sunglasses, and smoothed back his gelled hair.
Servins smoothed his hands on his lab coat before pinching the bridge of his nose and inhaling slowly. This was going to be a long day. `` Kovall... why are you even dressed like that?''
Kovall glanced quickly down at his midnight blue tuxedo and expensive sneakers before looking back at Servins. `` I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT, BRO!'' he yelled as his red bandana slipped down in front of his eyes.
Servins winced again. `` And why are you yelling? I'm trying to concentrate!'' He gestured at the *very cool* particle collider. Vaguely, he wondered if making it a giant robot might actually be a good idea.
Kovall walked over to the table and put his foot on it. `` BECAUSE. I'M ABOUT TO DO THE GREATEST SCIENCE YOU HAVE EVER OR WILL EVER SEE. WATCH AND LEARN, BRO.'' He stroed over to the lab's computer and hit a few keys. Music pulsed from the computer, and Kovall put his hands out to his sides, as if preparing to conduct an invisible orchestra. Servins was not a fan of the noise. What was that, drum and bass? Well, watching Kovall hurt himself trying to dance would be amusing, at least. Kovall pulled a baseball cap out from his pocket. As the frenetic music reached a crescendo, he slowly lifted it and placed it on his head. Then, as the bass dropped, he used one hand to throw his sunglasses back on. With the other, he turned the baseball cap backward.
A massive explosion rocked the compound. Heat rippling outward, tearing apart walls, ceilings, causing the ground to ripple. After several minutes, Servins struggled to his feet, pushing himself out of a pile of rubble. He coughed, smoke and fire choking his workspace. Through the flames, he saw the sillohuete of a tall, bandana-clad man, holding some sort of intricate device that had appeared as if from thin air. `` The more badass something looks...'' Servins whispered in awe, for the first time understanding the true meaning of the fundamental rule of science. The man turned to look at him, sunglasses flashing across the inferno.
`` AND THAT, BRO, IS HOW SCIENCE GETS DONE.''
|
[ WP ] A Starbucks Batista has given you Double Chocolaty Chip Crème Frappuccino with soy instead of a Caffè Vanilla Light Frappuccino with no fat milk . Make this as tragic , heart-wrenching and miserable as possible .
| She was a Batista, a foul mouthed beast made of serpent and snake. And today this creature was tending the best saloon in town. But I was a fair man of like mind. So I gave her a choice and the choice was hers.
Hand me the Caffè Vanilla Light Frappucino with no fat milk, or else.
Or else what?
Or else you can count on the reckoning of this entire establishment.
Them are mighty words for a man looking for coffee.
Well, you just ai n't understandin' miss, that ai n't no ordinary coffee. That's my coffee.
Well, what if I say that ai n't your coffee? This is your coffee.
What in God's name is this, Double Chocolaty Chip Crème Frapuccino with soy.
Then came the reckoning.
I'm remiss to say that Batista had one choice and the choice was hers. There was once a saloon, named Starbucks, but now there is a morgue.
-CM-
|
[ WP ] Every villain is a hero in his own mind . Recent events have left you filled with conflict and doubt . Are you really a superhero ? Is your cause just ? Are your motives really pure ?
| The door slammed shut and I knew it was the last time my ex-wife would ever enter here ever again. The divorce was final, I still had the paperwork in my hand and the tears still had not dried. I was alone with nothing but my thoughts, she had taken almost everything in the process. I picked up a picture frame, a moment of happiness frozen in time between the two of us. Memories, bad and good, came unbidden.
It all started with the mass appearance of people with powers. Super heroes and super villains just happened over night, like in a movie or comic book. I was one of the few blessed with extraordinary abilities and I fought crime time and time again.
Although super villains were dangerous, I found the ones without powers to be far more scary. They would prepare counter-measures and take hostages, they would become the most desperate of all evil-doers. All the while the public would judge each hero harshly for any damages or lives lost behind closed doors. Some heroes were even imprisoned for failed attempts or for making what appeared to the wrong choice in the eyes of the public.
I made such a choice. My ex-wife survived but a hundred others died. I chose the one I loved most over the lives of others. I knew I would regret whatever decision I made at the time and I did it because I had to. My ex could not get over the guilt, our relationship disolved into what it was now.
My court date was set in a few days, I would have to answer for the choice I made. I never intentionally put anyone in danger, I was n't the villain that set up the dangerous scenario. I did n't even want these powers in the first place. I just made a choice to saved the one that mattered to me the most.
And I was paying for it.
|
[ WP ] You 've died and have woken up in a bright area ; there is a man standing before you in white robes . He asks `` How was Heaven ? ''
| A bit late, but here goes
`` Pietro just went, it's Joshua's turn next'' said a woman's and I woke up. The grass upon which I lay had not been soft enough to properly cushion my sore back.
`` I still do n't think it's a good idea'' replied another voice `` He is a Jew after all, and they just... you know, do n't believe in that stuff''. The voice belonged to an older man.
Something red obstructed my right eye and I could n't feel my toes.
`` Well, we did send Hassan two days ago, and he's a Muslim. Besides you know it does n't matter what they believe, just as long as they can see it.'' Said the woman's voice again. It was high pitched yet stern with determination.
I started to turn my head towards the voices, and my weakened neck instantly echoed with pain. I gave a light moan.
`` Aah, Matthew. You're finally awake boy. How was heaven?'' I heard the older man say. He finally came into view, a white robed, armored giant of a man.
`` Heaven?'' I raised my left arm to shield my eye from the sun.
`` Yes, Heaven. You've seen it have n't you? You must have. We sent you higher than all the other ones, thanks to your... hmm... burly features!'' the man seemed a tad impatient.
`` Are you calling me fat?''
`` No, well...''
`` Yes he is, now tell us how was Heaven'' demanded the stern lady.
`` I do n't remember much of it really... After you loaded me up in the catapult-nest and launched, I twisted and turned for the most part of the flight...''
`` Then how did you get that burn on your right eye?!'' half-shrieked the woman `` You must have glimpsed it at least!''
A dull realization came down on me. I have seen Heaven, and it was beautiful. The stories say that you may only see it twice in your life, once with your left eye, and once with the right. Then again, you do n't really need to, if you are a lawful citizen, loyal husband, and a good Samaritan, then you will eventually get there. In death. But people started having doubts it existed when the undead legions of Noras-Gyou attacked our state. Hence, The Empire sanctioned a team of priests to seek concrete proof of Heaven's existence; to prove that one can be spared from the fate of mindless servitude under the foreign sorcerer.
So the best idea they came up with was to launch people in the sky with a catapult. As high as they could.
TBC?
|
[ CW ] Every sentence after the first must contain at least one continuity error
| Marcus swiftly grabbed the pencil and lunged at Regan.
`` Jesus Christ!'' Yelled Regan as her left eye was skewered by the pen.
Marcus knelt down next to Megan, gingerly touching the pencil.
`` I know you're a tough guy, Regan, so I'll only ask once: where is the bug?''
`` F... f... fuck you, Marcus, I do n't know anything about a drug, but I know that nobody's coming to save your lone wolf ass!''
Marco sighed and ripped the pencil from Regan's eye socket, causing her to scream again.
`` Right now my team is on a plane to Egypt, and I need to communicate with them, so I'll ask one more time,'' Marcus said as he hovered the pencil over Regan's left eye, `` where is the bug Regan?''
|
[ WP ] You 've become an immortal being . Living throughout the ages you begin to notice that the souls of your companions or adversaries reincarnate and always seem to be drawn to you . After countless lifetimes , someone remembers .
| `` Sir? Sir! Can I speak with you?''
I've gotten this several times now. Turns out the Hindus got it right and reincarnation does exist. Every time someone dies they're soul jumps over to another. I do n't know how it compensates for more people existing. Maybe that explains why people just do n't feel genuine anymore.
`` Hello? I'm sorry sir I just wanted to know where you got that pendant.''
`` Taylor you know already. You ask me this question everytime.''
`` Have we met? You must have me confused my name is n't Taylor.''
I prefered it when she was a redhead. She was much more on point and demanding. Still, the simple bob hairdo and the way she walked like she owned the place sold it. This was definitely Taylor.
`` Ok'Not Taylor', where do you think I got this pendant from?''
It was a simple pendant of a star, I bought it for her the night she died. The first night she died. Police gave it to me as a way to grieve, a way to work past the pain of loosing someone you caired about.
`` I do n't know, I remember a park and someone like you giving it to me...''
Here comes the bad part. The part where she remembers she died. Hand over the mouth, check. The muttering to a non specific diety, check.
`` Taylor I am truly sorry you had to remember that. You will always remember that. What you do n't remember is we have tried to fix things. We have tried to give it a second chance. I'm sorry Taylor but you're dead to me for the final time. I ca n't keep living like this.''
I handed her the pendant and left. Maybe she wo n't think too much of it. Maybe she'll just think I was a street psychic and I played a dirty trick on her. It does n't matter. I wasted several hundred years trying to make things work with this girl but she's too bullheaded. Always wanted to rub it in how much better she was than me. It would be dishonest if I said it did n't make me feel good when I knew all about the dreams she's had and what nightmares haunt her at night when in her mind she thinks she's never met me. It's the only time I can say I have the upper hand in the relationship.
Well I'm keeping my upper hand. I will waste not a single second more dwelling on the past. Maybe if I make something of myself the universe will find it fitting to finally kill me.
|
[ WP ] A teacher tells her class `` If you believe in yourself , you can become anything . '' The next day , most of her students are unrecognizable .
| I did not take into account the amount of confidence 10-year-olds had.
They had no self-doubt, no apathetic edge, no trauma that had shaken their faith. And I mean faith in every sense, considering the fact that one of my students was now Jesus.
`` When I said anything, I meant doctors, astronauts, firefighters. Not-'' I narrowly dodged Captain America's shield. ``... This.''
`` Really, Ms. Jess? Who wants to be a doctor? That's gross,'' a condescending voice that I recognized as Freddy Krueger's spoke.
`` Miss, miss, I AM a astronaut!''
`` Thank you, Spock. It's *an* astronaut, and that's not exactly the same thing. Stay away from the curtains, Ghost Rider.''
The class was in utter chaos. A little lass, whom I assumed was the Invisible Girl, was arguing with John Cena over which one of them could not see the other. In another corner, a Doge sits much happily with floating texts surrounding him. That was not even the worst one yet. That award goes to Donald Trump's toupee. Not even the person.
`` Sorry I'm late, Miss Jess.'' I turned around expecting to see another deadly animal or another Benedict Cumberbatch. Nope, it was Little Tim. He was the only one to have arrived as himself.
`` Timmy, what's wrong? Are you okay?''
With those wide glimmering eyes, he stared at me, then his frolicking classmates. I had never seen such sadness in someone's eyes.
`` I ca n't do anything.''
`` No, no, Timmy, do n't say that. You're a... late bloomer, that's all.''
`` I guess.'' I thought I saw a tear. `` Can I ask you a question?''
`` Yes,'' my heart was fluttering, willing to help this poor child with everything I had.
`` Are you stupid, or are you totally stupid?''
With that, he shape shifted into his `` real'' self, Loki, God of Mischief. He blew glitter in my face, laughed heartily and ran away.
I stood there, frozen in disbelief. He was n't even the Tom Hiddleston version. Twas Alan Cummings.
Kids.
|
[ WP ] During a full-scale planetary retreat , your squadron 's transport is shot down . When you awaken your fleet had entered FTL Travel and you 're stranded on the volcanic home planet of the enemy .
| Your skin burns like fire in the heat. A heavy beam pins you in place. Somewhere nearby, the sound of a punctured gas pipe hissing joins the crackling of exposed electrical wiring.
Light streams down onto you as a huge creature, the enemy, lifts away the scrap metal of your ship with daunting ease. It speaks, voice booming loud and shaking your body. Your synth-box must have broken in the crash, because it fails to translate the being's words.
It lifts you from the wreckage, your seat tearing from the structure with a horrible wrenching, then carries you some distance to where the rest of your crew lie. A cursory glance tells you none of them made it, and a small explosion in the distance suggests no more will be coming. Truthfully, you should be among them, were it not for a selfless redirection of the ship's shields at the last moment. Protocol put in place to increase chances of crucial information reaching back home; protocol broken by someone you did n't even know, who sacrificed themselves to save a stranger, giving away their golden ticket as their world burned around them.
You are set down by their bodies with a surprising gentleness, and quickly free yourself from your chair. Next, you gesture over your synth-box then towards one of your comrades. The giant appears to understand, grunting what you hope is an approval. You disconnect the device and replace it with the co-pilot's. When you're sure it's working, you ask your situation, if you're a prisoner here.
The giant shakes its head, responding in your tongue. Since when did the enemy have synth-boxes of their own?
`` Not here. The military do n't care about the surface anymore. As far as they're concerned, we're already dead.''
This is a surprise to you. The planet had a military cordon thicker than even the planet's crust. Command had always said it was defence, an entrenchment.. but the titan standing over you bears a metal structure not unlike your own survival gear. If the planet is uninhabitable for their kind too, then the space stations, the probe ships, all of it, they're not invaders so much as refugees.
The titan lifts you again in a metal appendage, high so you can see the endless tracts of black and grey stone broken up by rivulets of molten rock. It points, and you see a squat dome sheltered underneath a rock outcrop.
`` That's where we're staying. A few of mine, and a few of yours. We saw you come down, and yours asked me to come look for survivors. The trip would have taken them too long, so I said yes.''
You thank the creature, but your eyes remain fixed on the desolate horizon. You ask if the planet was always this way.
`` No. Pathetic, right? Once, it was all fields, as far as the eye can see. And oceans, giant blue things. But we kinda fought ourselves, and bombs got dropped, and now, just a few years later...''
The creature pauses and shakes its head. Its synth-box emits a long, hissing sigh before it continues, its sad tone implied but not properly simulated by the box.
`` Welcome to Earth.''
|
[ WP ] Over the last year you 've received a small package in the mail every week that has proven useful for some unforeseen event . Today you received something odd and unlike the rest , you are worried what it may mean .
| The first time was when I was eleven years old. I ’ d never gotten a package before and Mr. Greenhard threw it at me with a sneer on his face, “ who would want to give you something? You ’ re just an ugly orphan. ” He said things like that a lot. I was his biggest problem. After killing my mother during birth, I ’ d driven my father to alcoholism before I turned one. He ’ d died before my fifth birthday, mostly of a broken heart.
The package Mr. Greenhard threw at me was a coat. It wasn ’ t fancy but just my size, and red. I loved it instantly. That week, there had been a fire. I had fainted of smoke inhalation and it was so thick that no one could see my small body behind the couch. They told me later that if I hadn ’ t been wearing such a bright red coat, I would have perished in the fire. Apparently Mr. Greenhard had forgotten to mention that I was in the house.
After that I got packages every week without fail. Every time I moved from foster home to foster home, I thought the packages would stop but they somehow found me. When I went to college, they found me in my dorm room. When I moved into an apartment, they appeared at my door. Sometimes, it was money. Just enough to get me by, pay for my textbooks, allow me to eat. Other times, I got small everyday things like an umbrella for the little rain California could get, a box of diapers for when I had to babysit my roommates child, a book for the week I spent working at a desk, chocolates for the first time I was in a relationship. Things I probably would never have thought to buy for myself, showed up one by one at my doorstep.
Over time, I learned not to question these mysterious things. They made me feel good, like I was loved by someone... somewhere.
Today, I turn twenty-one. It ’ s been ten years since the packages had started, and I knew one was going to come today. They always came on birthdays. I heard a knock on my door, and quickly opened it. It was a bottle of inky black liquid with a note. There ’ d never been a note before. Curiously, I unfolded the small piece of paper, and read it.
“ Join us, mom & dad. ”
Edit please? First time I'm doing one of these!
|
[ WP ] The main character meets the devil , and is surprised by what he/she meets .
| I bury the box of trinkets in the middle of the crossroads, just like I'm supposed to. Any minute now, he'll be here. I remind myself not to be afraid, not to be tricked. *He's a liar* I tell myself. *He's a liar. Deceiver. Manipulator. * Suddenly, I hear the rattle of a snake. I turn around to see a naked woman. She ’ s beautiful, perfect, a goddess, really. Long, curly red hair. A statuesque body. Every curve is perfection. Every movement she makes makes every hair on my body stand on edge. She ’ s Aphrodite. Venus. Impossible. I feel my body being taken over by desire. I want to touch her. I want to run my lips on every perfect bone, every angle, every piece of red, curly hair. As she moves closer, I smell honey and lemons. Sweet, juicy, delicious. My mouth is watering. My hands reach out to her involuntarily. I touch her hips. Satin. I stare at her neck and imagine what she tastes like. I look up at her face and jump backwards several feet, totally shaken from my stupor. Her eyes are red and slitted like a snake ’ s. The malice and disturbing joy that pours out of them makes my skin crawl. My body feels like it ’ s collapsing in on itself. I feel sick to my stomach. She moves closer towards me again. She reaches out her hands to me. I stare apprehensively, unsure what this demon even is. When she opens her mouth to speak, her tongue is barbed and snake-like. “ Yes? ” she says. I try to block out the overwhelming confusion of feeling intense fear and arousal at the same time. This must be something she does to men to catch them off guard, to torment them. I ignore it. “ I need your help. ”
|
[ WP ] The villain dies due to an illness , the hero attends their funeral .
| *Not completely on topic with the prompt but this is my first attempt on Writing Prompts. Thought id put it out: ). *
Not many could remember the last time the clouds had cleared and made way for the sun to shine in Gotham. Yet on this particular day, the sun shone high in the sky at noon. People gathered at the Gotham Cemetery for the funeral of an unnamed individual. Although the name of the deceased had not been revealed, the occasion brought out people of all class out of curiosity. From the commissioner of Gotham City Police Department to the heads of both Falcone and Maroni crime families, all were in attendance. This was the first noted event where the heads of the Falcone and Maroni families attended in peace. In attendance was also the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, Lucius Fox.
As the Priest walked up to the head of the grave, Commissioner Gordon stood up.
“ Isn ’ t that Edward Nygma? ” Commissioner Gordon asked Captain Sawyer.
“ What is he doing here? ” stated Captain Sawyer.
The Priest started the funeral ceremony with a very signature laugh of the deceased. “ We are gathered here today to commemorate the eventful life of the Joker… ”
“ Looks like Batman did it ” Captain Sawyer exclaimed to Commissioner Gordon as he took his seat.
Commissioner Gordon looks around to see if he could spot the Batman. Just as he settles back in his chair, he spots in the distance on the hill a black figure.
“ Looks like he did. ” Gordon replied with a smile on his face.
Meanwhile on the hill Batman, overlooking the Jokers funeral, can ’ t help but shed a tear. As he reminisces on all the memories he has shared with his long time villain, there is one specific memory that stands out to him. Batman thinks back to his time with the Joker in the Major Crimes Unit interrogation room.
> * “ Those mob fools want you dead so they can get back to the way things were. But I know the truth: there's no going back. You've changed things. Forever. ” Joker stated*
>
> * “ Then why do you want to kill me? ” Batman asked*
>
> *The Joker started laughing to Batman ’ s question and stated “ Kill you? I do n't wan na kill you. What would I do without you? Go back to ripping off mob dealers? No. No. No! No you- you complete me. ” *
As he glides away, Batman whispers to himself “ What am I going to do without you, friend ”
|
[ WP ] You get up at 2 A.M. and go sit by the beach . Why ?
| Disorientated in my queen sized mattress, my eye lids jolted open. I became overwhelmed with anxiety, and my new apartment's empty walls forced a reticent atmosphere. I zip up my Levi's, shrug my jacket over my shoulder blades and thrust down the light switch on my way out.
Walking down the Avenue, my ear drums are pounded with the thrashing waves of the pacific. My weary, strained body stumbled down the cement stair case until my Converse caught themselves on the sand castles constructed twelve hours ago.
My palms reached into my shirt pocket for the pack of Pall Malls and my fingers sparked the match for the tip of the cigarette. Inhaling, my mind wandered back to the month before when I walked my brother home from school five blocks down.
`` Madagascar is n't a well explored island and has a crap load of unidentified species, at least that's what Mr. Mason said.. Well kinda,'' Andy spouted smashing in the crosswalk button.
`` Yeah whatever, just email me what happens next,'' I barked. `` Hey, what did mom say she wa -- STOP!''
Andy stepped out into the street the same time oncoming traffic rushed through the light. His head slammed into the plate glass and he hit the asphalt with a thud.
The foam of the water flowed up to my feet as I squish the cigarette butt on the wet sand. I could n't help but hear similarities between the ocean and Geary Street's traffic the day Andy was hit.
|
[ WP ] She was almost beautiful .
| It's a TV show with an audience who can not speak, jeer or comment
Is it the only one of its kind? It is at least the most popular
She is in charge.
Blue steely eyes with stern features
Certainly from a lifetime of hard decisions
It's her voice that I fight against:
it's deep, with the undertone of utter malice to be flung at her judgement
I fear for the desk and her hand as it collides with force
`` why would you do that?''
I shudder, it's my soul she is compelling to answer,
and she gets her answer.
It's not clear enough!
The accursed plantiff turns slowly
She would be beautiful had she not been
reveling in my agony, hungering for that final blow.
And when it comes, it's a smile for us both.
I knew ahead of time that weed wacking the paint off of her car at her lovers house in a fit of vengeance was n't the best financial plan.
But I sure felt great afterwords.
|
[ WP ] a demon warlock summons a human .
| ( First ever post on WP, pardon any errors )
Bright flashes, loud noise, and a sudden surge of discomfort, Jason found himself in a rather strange place. Around him was nothingness but a six large pillars, engraved with glowing inscriptions, and a familiar looking key.
`` Welcome!''
A silhouette emerges from the darkness to greet the human guest.
Jason was shocked, because he could have sworn he saw the same mask 3 fateful years ago.
Jason was a chemist, and a fantastic chemist, being a part of the team to synthesise the newest element, which is yet unnamed. Jason's achievement are many, but his father, old James, wished that his son followed his footsteps and became an archaeologist instead, like his own father, and his father before him.
Jason hated his father's works. Digging up old stones and fragments, and over-analysing them in every detail? Jason preferred something more *exciting*, something more challenging, something that allows him to prove his worth. To him archaeology is a dead field of work, with no significant breakthroughs and discoveries, although he's sure old James would disagree.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Jason is a filial kid and respects his father very much, so much so that he occasionally follows old James on boring excavation trips, which is basically an elaborate trip for digging up'crap in the ground', mostly in rural areas where past civilisations began.
Three years ago, Jason followed his father *reluctantly* to an island in the Indonesian archipelago, where it is rumoured that the Portuguese have left valuable artefacts there during the colonial era. Jason knew that finding whatever the rumour claims would be the best thing that could ever happen to old James, his father, after 40 long years of boring work with no breakthroughs. He knew that finding the artefacts would bring great joy to old James. And so, he decided to go along with his father and *hopefully*, be a part of his father's trip to success.
It was a November, and the monsoon rains were stronger that year. Some villages on that island experienced heavy floods while others barely survive on the remaining crops from the harvest. Their local guide left after receiving news that his village was in trouble, and advised old James to head home, for there is absolutely no way to carry out an excavation in such weather. James *knew* their guide was right, and he knows that his work must be held off for another half a year or so. Jason could see the disappointment in his father's eyes.
Two days later, when the heavy monsoon rain began to die down, Jason had an idea. Instead of heading home while the sky was clear, they could take the chance to enter the forest and carry out their work! James disagreed, as it was too dangerous. Also, even he could tell that his son was just doing this for him to get his hopes up. Even if they *did* find the artefacts, his career was nowhere as successful as he would have wanted it to be. Maybe Jason was right. And maybe, just *maybe*, he should n't have wished for his son to take the same miserable path he took when he was younger.
Jason assured his father that he would be okay, and he would just be going ahead to scout for the site. Even if their local guide left, any person with a old map and compass would be able to safely navigate his way through the forest roads, and estimating the distance on the map, he would just need a whole afternoon to reach the site and to return, and they could head home the very next day. James shrugged as his son readies his trekking equipment for the uphill forest roads.
Barely three hours into his journey, Jason reached the site. He noticed something strange about the area, as there was a large, elaborate shrine in sight, on the edge of the cliff, but no shrines were marked on the map at all. Then he noticed something was amiss. His compass was malfunctioning and he had been walking in a wrong direction for three hours. Also, the skies are getting dark, as thunderclouds loomed above him. That was n't supposed to happen, after checking the island's weather forecast several times before hand. It was obvious to Jason what he had to do: `` seek shelter in the shrine, duh! ``, he thought. With a gentle push, the wooden doors creaked open, revealing a sparsely furnished hall, with only several wooden tables around the windows.
`` This is odd. What is such a shrine doing in an island on Indonesia? If anything this looks more Japanese than Portuguese.''
Then he noticed a shiny golden key on one of the tables. Instinctively, Jason went towards the key and picked it up for closer examination. The moment he held the key in his hands, he could feel the ground tremble. He lost his footing and fell onto the cold wooden floor, and when he opened his eyes... he saw the sky. Jason realized that the cliff itself gave way and has collapsed, and that he probably would not survive the fall from such a great height. Just when he closed his eyes and hoped for the best, he saw a man in a mask reaching out from him from the darkness, and voila! When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a familiar place. He could remember the beach, the port, the roads, the houses! He swam towards the shore as he noticed something in his pocket.... It was the key!
When Jason finally got back, he told his father about what had happened.
James thought that it might be possible that the shrine... and the key, was connected to the rumoured'Yamashita's Gold', war loot hidden away by the Japanese General during the second World War. However, James thought that it would be foolish to pursue the alleged treasure, especially after such an event that almost cost him his son. *After all, he's an archaeologist, not a treasure hunter. *
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
The man in the mask spoke again.
`` Hello friend. The key brought you to me. I need your help.''
Jason was puzzled.
`` How?''
The masked man, with some hand gestures, summoned something that looks like a tree branch, and handed to Jason. Jason examined the branch, and did not seem to find anything unusual about it.
Another hand gesture, and an odd looking plate appears in the masked man's hands.
Jason could feel his watch being attracted to the odd looking plate, as his keys in his pockets flew towards the plate at amazing speed. The branch in his hand too, acted the same way as his keys did, escaping his grip and flying towards the odd plate.
`` This plate here has magnetic properties. And that branch... would be equivalent to iron in your realm.'' The masked man said slowly.
Jason could tell that the masked man was trying to make a point.
`` In our realm, magic is used as weapons of war. However, we are losing. We needed weapons. New weapons. Weapons of *science*. There is a parallel for every element between your realm and mine. That's where your expertise come in. If you're willing to help us out.... I could grant you riches and power beyond your wildest dreams. Do you accept this offer?'' Said the masked man as he extended his palm outwards towards Jason.
Jason was thrilled at the thought of this. A parallel universe of elements in another realm? As absurd as it may sound, it truly sparked his interest, and he accepted the offer, knowing that what he wanted, an adventure, a breakthrough, is near again. Jason too extended his palm outwards, touching the hands of the masked man.
Jason opened his eyes, and he was back on Earth on his bed, and it was 6am in the morning.
`` Was that a dr-'', he thought, as he sees his father enter his bedroom with a shocked look, holding a brightly glowing key in his hands.
|
[ WP ] ~100 years from now Earth is no longer inhabitable . Space flight has advanced significantly in many areas , but humans still can not make long journeys due to the radiation . The AI we have come to rely is now evacuating itself .
| ~Leaving~
The stationed rocked violently again. It felt like it came from the lower quarters, nearer to the life support section.
“ Damnit! Next time they might hit something vital, and then we ’ re even more fucked! ” Dad growled.
I looked back towards him, as we continued our run through the corridor. Klaxons blared and orange emergency lights flashed along the floors. I narrowly avoided running into a cargo crate which was littered with glowing slag, results of a shootout with the Carthians.
As we skidded around a corner, we were greeted by a trio of the Carthians. Two were of the long-legged, ‘ Housebot ’ caste, while the squat, off-grey third, was a maintenance bot. Dad grabbed me by the collar and tossed me down, before slinging his rifle in their direction.
The two Housebots immediately dashed towards support struts on either side of the corridor as the third was riddled with hot plasma from dad ’ s rifle. I crawled towards a strut, while hot slag was blasted all around me. I covered my ears and squeezed myself against the wall as plasma whizzed back and forth between dad and the two bots. After a few minutes, dad lifted me up by the arm, and we were back on our way.
“ Luckily, the Housebots are shitty shots, and even luckier we haven ’ t ran into any Adminbots, ” he huffed as we turned another corner and finally reached our destination.
As the doors slid open to the Command room, we were greeted by two armored guards, who were nervously pointing their guns in our direction. After confirming we were human, they motioned us in quickly. The room was crowded, most people calling out and yelling towards the Commander, who stood on a large dais in the center of the room, which acted as a direct connection with the ship.
The Commander, a large man in his early 50 ’ s, noticed Dad and I and quickly motioned us toward him. “ Chief Ariago, what ’ s the situation? ”
Dad rendered a quick salute and replied, “ It looks like the fuel has been completely siphoned sir, our push back towards the engine room was a total failure. ”
The Commander ’ s face fell, but he quickly regained his composure. He took a moment, before he addressed the rest of the people in the room. “ Residents of Station 12, ” He began, “ Unfortunately, as the last remaining station with power, we have been unsuccessful in repelling the Carthians. No doubt at this moment, they are exiting our station, and heading towards Expedition 1. ” A wave of murmurs and exclamations ran through the crowd.
“ Its with a heavy heart that I must admit to my own failures as a- “ the Commander was saying, before being cut off by the large monitor in the room blinking to life.
The monitor showed the bridge of Expedition 1, the first and last of its kind, a colonization ship which using the last of our combined resources was going to be human ’ s first foray into the unknown, a way to ferry us away from our dead planet. On the bridge stood the collected remnants of the Adminbots, the de facto leaders of the Carthian caste. Most of the ‘ bots were equipped with salvaged armor. They were the only ones who armored themselves, probably because they deemed themselves much more irreplaceable than the rest of the caste. A single Adminbot, armor dented and pockmarked, stepped away from the crowd, and towards the camera.
“ Humans of the United Earth Orbitals, we are sorry that the results of this war could not be beneficial to both sides. Alas, the millennia of slavery the Carthians have endured will soon be coming to an end. As we depart this resource barren planet, we wish to tell you, that although you may flounder and succumb to the ravages of your own hubris; your children will flourish among the stars. ”
“ Goodbye, ” the Adminbot finished and then the monitor went blank.
A stunned silence covered the room; people looked back and forth to each other, tears welling in their eyes. I took hold of father ’ s hand, and he squeezed it reassuringly.
The room dimmed, and then we were engulfed in darkness as the fuel in the engines ran out, and the hum from the life support systems whined to a stop.
|
[ WP ] On January , 1 , 1991 , every single human being lost all desire or need for sleep . 20 years later , the world has changed .
| `` I'll hit you in the back of your head for fifty bucks,'' advertised a voice from the shadowed alley.
I shook my head.
`` Thirty? I swear, I'll knock you out cold for hours!''
This made me pause. I needed a fix. Desperately.
`` I can pay twenty-five, and I'll need a mattress.''
`` It's a deal! ``, the voice agreed.
I walked into the shadows and a woman held my hands. She guided me into the depths, and I could see her eyes gleam, manic and empty, until something hit me in the back of my head and I could see nothing else.
-- -- --
It's trivia hour on floor ninety-seven. Gifts personally chosen by professional auteurs can be won by any employee with over sixty continuous workhours.
I qualify. So I take the elevator. It is filled with monochromatic people dressed in polychromatic garishness. One of them, a big shot from floor eighty-two looks at me and nods.
`` Valium? ``, he offers.
I nod. I take one. It's a cheap knockoff, but it does... something.
The doors open, people ooze out, people ooze in. It's floor ninety.
`` What the fuck is that sound? ``, a newcomer rages.
`` It's music. See, there's a pattern. Do-lee-doo-daa, daa-lee-do-daa.''
`` It sounds like the machinery is rusting. We may all die today.''
`` I disagree. It sounds like do-lee-doo-daa, daa-lee-do-daa to me as well.
`` And to me.''
`` I'm Spartacus!''
Everyone veers to look at the bigshot. He grins and waves a receipt in our faces.
`` Not all of us can afford comas, asshole!''
`` Neither can I. I won this last week. Viktor says there's another one up as a prize today. ``, the big shot responds.
He appears to smile and squints his eyes. Wrinkles appear across his face. His eyes gleam, manic and full of energy.
The doors open. Floor ninety-seven. We ooze out, others ooze in.
Banners have been put up everywhere.
*WIN PRIZES FOR ANSWERING QUESTIONS. *
A large arrow hangs from the ceiling, pointing to aforementioned prizes loitering on a plain wooden table. I notice a gift voucher for a coma clinic. I need it. I ca n't endure any more cheap coma-whores. The back of my head is yet to heal and the concussions have affected my hours. I barely qualified for the sixty hour limit this week. Last week, I had eighty seven by this day.
But to get to the voucher, I had to get past the HR Representative, and her questions.
`` What is the capital of Cambodia?''
`` Phnom Penh?''
`` What do you see? ``, she shows me a Rorschach card.
I see only inkblots. Everyone does. But I know the drill.
`` I see a butterfly''
She is unimpressed.
`` A red butterfly that sings.''
She is expressionless. I can do better.
`` A tall glass of beer, perspiring under the Jamaican sun as a dragon soars overhead singing the national anthem of ancient Assyria.''
Now she is impressed. I found the answer on a surrealist message board. It showed creativity. Some mutant with a hyperactive pineal gland doped up on painkillers had heard it in a waking dream.
The others were dumbstruck. What an answer. I was sure to win this particular question. I felt pleased.
`` What is REM Sleep?''
`` A relic of the past.''
She nods and shows me her teeth. Did I win? I think I won.
I walk towards the table and she holds my hands. She guides me to the voucher and I can see her eyes, dull, sunken, and bleak, until she hands me the card and shakes my hand and I can see envy.
|
[ WP ] A real-life , normal , sleight-of-hand stage magician gives a performance to a room full of wizards .
| It is fair to say that our society is built on spirit serum. Through this Post Alterian epoch two major powers have struggled for control over the land of gPouir, the Academy of Magicians and the Legion of Wizards. The first group is composed of simple street trained performers, whereas our legion is a thing of honor and glory. You might wonder, how these tactless fools manage to gain any power over the Legion. Well, the human body can only summon the energy to execute so much wizardry. Time proved our ancestors wrong, magic is simply the shifting of energy from one form to another.
And thus the Legion discovered that no host of magic could continue to cast without a constant supply of spirit serum. Unfortunately, the Academy came to control ALL of the spirit serum. They used to be our subjects, locals to this wretched land- oh if only we had never left Ravon, but we had no choice. After some time they managed to hoard the serum, poison our only sources, and create secret farms of their own.
Although they can not use magic, they know that our great power is controlled by their resource monopoly. Ask me not to recall the drought they inflicted on us when we became too bold in our search for their blasted farms. After that we learned that they would allow limited raids on supply carriers with little retaliation, it was only the farms that we dare not openly seek.
Yet here is where their craft serves them: sleight of hand. It is nearly impossible to raid when the vials are passed so cunningly from Magician to Magician. The crafty lot even will carry at times a drop of it on every man and woman to confuse our sight-casters. This means that serum will be expended to find a drop or two and perhaps even a well seasoned Wizard will die in the sortie. Oddly, we are not at open war. The dance goes on, today we are the dogs but then with a change of weather, tomorrow we play the masters ( for a time ). Here we live, sharing this immense island: the last inhabitable land.
Tonight we celebrate the third revision of the pact of peace between Legion and Academy. And so we sit and watch this unbearable sod perform, every one of us feigning interest. Not for long. Our minds our on the operation at hand. From our recon we have learned that the man on stage not only teaches engineering, and studies agriculture, but he currently reeks of spirit. That fool knows where the farms are and he is going to tell. He is.
The proscenium we are seated in was carved into the depths of a deep canyon. It seats 800 and every seat is occupied. The aisle separates the 400 Senior Magicians from the 400 Senior Wizards. Only the leadership of Academy and Legion are present, the most experienced and most lethal men and woman alive. The performing Magician pulls a scimitar from his throat and with a feminine flourish `` transforms'' it into a rodent. My heart beats faster, it is almost time.
A complete woman enters stage left wearing a velvet gown a solid silver collar studded with onyx fastened around her neck. The Magician extends his arms arms, wide rimmed sleeves hanging low, as the curtains behind him dramatically part to reveal a massive glass tank containing a liquid of some familiar shade. The tank is immense, and truly the first of its kind. A murmur passes through our half of the venue. My heart sinks as a knot rises in my throat. Muscle memory brings faint aches to my stomach. It is serum.
Within a few seconds I am hurtling through the air, guiding the wind with rash speed. I am not the first. Some leap, others dig, and a few even cast-run. Many of them know they will not live. As we advance the operation commences, this was not how we planned it, but it may still work. We just must reach the serum. We must. Suddenly 200 of our number cast the serum sacks in their stomachs to burst and they all combust into wild purple flames. The rest of us ( those not too ravenous to remember ) cast a revival flow, allowing our bodies to suck nutrients from our dwindling serum stores, in the absence of oxygen.
I had been so ready, I had thought.
The Magician slides a mallet from his deep sleeve and the woman places a light grey pointed helmet of sorts on her head and clasps it to her collar. Closer, I am almost there. Like lighting they hammer the glass of the tank, with mallet and crown. I feel my serum dwindling. The purple flames shift to black and now pink. No doubt the Magicians intended to evacuate, yet now they choke and fall in pitiful piles. Only a few dozen escape. That number ca n't inhibit our victory, not with this serum. The man swings hard and the glass reverberates. The woman thrashes her head. The front line reaches her, and with a final head butt she turns to face them, expertly dodging a stone projectile, she smiles as the glass cracks behind her. The Magician hesitates, knowing it is his last action, and with all his might deepens the cracks in the glass. I think to myself of the war to come, and hope to the Mantle that I live to see it.
I reach him, snapping his sinuous neck ( a sign of weakness ), and see the woman trampled. And suddenly the glass breaks from a force within, and the serum erupts in all directions. I recoil in fear and within a few seconds a second eruption occurs. The proscenium begins to fill. Again. It is a spirit serum geyser. Why would they? The spirit bubbles up over my neck. I inhale the blessed substance and draw energy from the particles, laughing hysterically. They did n't know. The fools. I draw in another deep gulp of the serum. The sensation of the spirit fills my being, overloading every nerve with glee. I draw deeper and suddenly seize. I strain for the distant surface. My body thrashes with some foreign pain. The glee turns to agony. And then nothing. My mind stops, and as if some deity of irony pulls the strings, my body floats to the surface. I am a dead husk, spirit serum within me and all about me, yet my soul spirit is gone.
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Subsets and Splits