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[ WP ] A pilot floats alone , adrift in his damaged spacecraft and reflects on his life and situation as he watches his oxygen and power slowly run out .
| I wish it could have been different.
I wish I could have said goodbye one last time.
I wish I could have said `` I love you'' one last time.
I wish I could go back.
Michael Evers sat alone in an empty spacecraft thinking these thoughts waiting to die.
It had began so simply, a short flight from Earth to Mars on a freight run, but now, it was much more. Something had been damaged when he was n't looking, something had twisted the wrong way, something had doomed him.
So now he drifted alone in his damaged craft, watching the Oxygen tick away, there was less than a minute left, and the last bit of power on the craft drain into nothingness, while holding onto his last thing of value. A picture of his wife and child. Oh how beautiful they were, his wife with her deep blue eyes and curled red hair. Oh how beautiful his daughter was, with short brown hair just like him, but with the deep blue eyes of her mother. Michael missed them so much, and all he wanted was to hear their voices one last time.
To feel his lips on his wife's and run his fingers through her hair.
To kiss his daughters cheek one last time and hear her giggle as his whiskers tickled her cheek.
To be with them both again.
To -
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[ WP ] You have decided to commit suicide by hiring an assassin to kill you . He double crossed you .
| *I'm getting old. I'm tired. I'm unhappy and have been for so long that I do n't remember what the alternative is like. Just make it quick and painless. *
Beyond the personal details, that was the extent of the email I'd sent the man hired to help me give up the ghost. He'd asked a few questions. Apparently paying someone to kill you is n't a common request. I'd have done the deed myself, but insurance does n't pay on suicide and I wanted my daughter, estranged as she might be, to get something out of it. That and I was too chicken shit.
And so I went about my last days like they were any other, making the dreary trek to and from work, fixing the same lonely single serving dinners I always did, spending what free time I had distracting myself from the inevitable with the flashing lights of bad television and internet. There were regrets but they never lingered. For the most part I was okay with my decision. Besides, the die was cast. It's a no refund cottage industry.
About a week after the arrangements had been made and funds transferred, I noticed an old green Buick LeSabre keeping a steadfast spot in my wake. At a stop light I got a better glimpse of him, or part of him anyways. The vehicle's sole occupant appeared to be an older male, most of his face hidden behind a salt and pepper beard.
I made a few unnecessary turns to be certain I was actually being tailed- My mind had been playing tricks on me since I cut the deal. Apprehension, maybe? More like anticipation at this point. Once I was sure, I made a final turn, pulling up alongside the mouth of a dark alley.
Tenement housing in moderate dilapidation walled the empty, bleak pathway. This would be as good a place as any to go off and meet the Maker if such a being existed. I had my doubts. With a heavy, resigned sigh, I pushed open the driver's side door and labored to my feet.
I remember the sound of my feet hitting the pavement seemed louder than normal. The ground was still damp from an afternoon shower, leaving inky little puddles in burgeoning potholes to reflect the street lights. About a dozen steps into the alley, I heard another set of footsteps join mine, the two pairing together to make an unruly staccato.
`` Well,'' I said, sighing again and mustering my courage. As I turned to face the hired killer, I found myself surprised that there was no fear. I'd been mentally preparing myself for a while now and, apparently, had made my peace without knowing it.
Instead I spent that long, dragging second trying to think of something clever and tough to say. Something to give the hitman a story to tell when he sat around the fireside with all the other hitmen, trading their war stories, so they could grunt and nod in appreciation. *Tough old sumbitch, that one*, they'd say.
I looked up to see the face of the man who would kill me. He was staring back at me, eyes wide, mouth wider, the flare of recognition obvious and prominent on his visage.
`` Tom?'' he finally managed. My carefully honed last words left me.
Huh?
`` The fuck, Tom? I always thought you were kind of a wimp, but hiring someone to put you out of your misery?''
I squinted. Why had I left my glasses in the car? Wait, that's obvious. Did n't expect to need them. Leaning forward, I inspected the man as closely as I could, mind swimming in confusion. There was something familiar about him and he obviously seemed to know me... Oh. Shit.
`` Joe,'' I said, his name as much an accusation and curse as it was an acknowledgement. The surge of anger I felt surprised me.
Fuck Joe. I hated Joe and the feeling was mutual. It had always been that way, even before we had reasons for it. I'd stolen his girlfriend once. He later played a part in the dissolution of my marriage to the same woman. Our disdain for each other predated those events though, all the way back to high school when it had been pointless and without merit. It was instinctive. We were natural born enemies and now he was going to kill me.
Swallowing my emotions, I forced myself to calm. The fists I had n't realized I'd balled together relaxed and I felt the weight of my stress and ire leave my shoulders. A bitter smile formed unbidden over my lips. I should have been startled by how level and even my voice was, but I was already beginning to feel halfway out of my body, the soul ready to move on to whatever comes next. `` Ca n't say you're the one I'd have chosen to see me off, but what's done is done. You've probably wanted to do this for ages. Well, it's your lucky day. I'm ready. Let's get it over with.''
Joe stared at me for a long, hard moment. He'd gotten old, too, choosing to hide some of the wear and tear underneath a shaggy beard. I'd suggest he trim the damn thing, but what would be the point? I would n't be around to see it.
After what seemed like an hour had passed but was probably only a few seconds, he seemed to reach a resolution. I sucked in my last breath and closed my eyes, ready for the gunshot I knew would be coming.
Alas, the next sound I heard was that of the soles of his shoes colliding with pavement as he started to backpedal. My eyes fluttered open and he was halfway down the alley, marching back to his hideous green Buick.
`` Not a chance, pal,'' he called out over his shoulder, the only parting shot I would receive. `` You're in it *this* deep and you think I'm gon na give you the easy way out? Nuh uh. No way. You're not dying for a long, long time. I'll see to that. Now that I know your life sucks this hard, I'll be watching.''
A moment later a car door slammed shut. An engine rumbled noisily to life. Tires ground into the damp sediment strewn about the street. Then, just like that, I was alone and confused in a dark alley.
Fuck Joe.
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[ WP ] Make the saddest love story without involving any deaths , breakups , or separations .
| `` Holly, my dear, you've done it again!'' He eagerly dug his knife and fork back into the plate abs gorged himself like an animal on the freshly baked pie. Holly nodded in recognition and turned back to the sink and silently continued to soak the dishes in the sink. He continued to exaggerate his facial expressions with every bite. `` This is seriously the best!'' Like before, she turned smiled and nodded in acknowledgment. He stopped for a moment, mid swallow. `` Hey, are you feeling alright? You're kind of quiet today. Something on your mind?'' She turned, smiled and shook her head and continued her task. `` You can tell me if something's wrong you know.'' His face getting redder, anxiety causing adrenaline and fear to course through his system. `` Why do n't you take a break abd I'll finish those up?'' He slowly rise from his chair and hovered behind her. Again, she turned, smiled, ask her head and continued doing dishes. `` Are you giving me the silent treatment? I thought nothing was wrong? If nothing's wrong why are n't you saying anything?'' His face burned a bright red now. His lungs, fought for breathe, they burned in his chest like coals. `` Just talk to me!'' He had stated to hyperventilate, the world around him spun. `` I love you so much! You know that! So why wo n't you talk to me?'' She continued to soak the dishes. He failed to catch his breathe. Each second she ignored him was like an eternity for him. He hunched over and cried silently to himself. His lungs burned hotter now, the lack of oxygen had taken it's toll and he passed out.
`` Doctor! He's at it again!'' The intern had pushed her way through the doctor's colleagues in the lounge to inform him of one their patients. `` Jesus, fine I'll be there in a minute.'' He dabbed the sweat on his forehead with the end of his tacky tie and excused himself from the conversation. `` Just what the hell is going on with him now?''
`` We think he's having some adverse reactions to the new medication we put him on.'' She handed the chart of to the doctor.
`` Patient 3780. Can you hear me?'' He spoke as soft has he could into the microphone. A thick layer of glass between him and the patient.
He lay against the steel slab, motionless. `` Patient 3780. Can you you hear-'' He suddenly sprung to life. `` Where is she?! Where is she?! I need to see her! I need to see her!'' The doctor took a moment to compose himself. He cleared his throat and worried for him to calm down. `` Patient 3780. Please calm down. Who are you taking about?''
The man tensed up and focused on the doctor through the glass. `` You took her away you made her different! She used to talk to me! She used to love me! Where is my Holly?!'' Tears swelled up in his eyes. He tried his best to remember her. Her smile, her hair, anything to keep the memory alive. The doctor cleared his throat again. `` Patient 3780. Just get some rest.'' He turned off the microphone and dabbed the sweat from his forehead again. The intern silently followed the doctor out of the room. She followed the doctor through the hall to the elevator. `` Who is he talking about?'' The doctor sighed as he tapped the button to take them back to the lounge. `` The medications he's on causes him to suffer from hallucinations. When we found out we tried switching it to a weaker medication that is supposed to be less damaging than the first. The effects of the new medication must be weaker than the first but still cause him to hallucinate. In his mind he has a loving wife and nice house in the suburbs. In actuality, he's a junky. Addicted to prescription drugs and anything else that will get him high. He came in for help but his mind's just too far gone.'' She stared at the floor and wondered why patient 3780 called her name.
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[ WP ] Without hesitation , you plunge into the depths of the spinning portal , but what 's on the other side is whats really crazy .
| After vanquishing my enemy in the most grueling battle I've ever had the pleasure of partaking in, I looked to start a new journey. The fight was truly a hellish encounter, and I was ready to begin something much more relaxing. Opening the box where I inserted most of my few belongings, I added a couple trinkets and closed it once again.
As I did, a swirling reddish-orange portal appeared with an abyss at the center. The blackness intrigued me, as did the glow emitting from the vortex itself. Hesitant at first, I gathered myself, knowing I could take on anything after what I had just experienced. With a leap I proceeded through the portal. Passing through took an instant, but that instant felt like an eternity in the strangest way. The walls inside were made of orange lightning reflecting off of countless rubies. My body spun rapidly, hands at my sides, as I flew through the abyss toward the other side. The beauty of the wormhole was beyond anything I had seen before and made me wonder if this was a dream or a nightmare, considering what I had just encountered prior.
Once my feet found their bearings and normality regained itself, I was on the other end of the portal. The portal itself remained opened, still glowing in all of its splendor, waiting to take me again on a wonderful journey back to the hellish nightmare I had just come from. The landscape, stepping out, was lush and green, with patches of dirt and wooden fences as far as the eye could see. A stone wall blocked my path into the ominous woods, that was riddled with both withered and regular trees begging to be explored.
As I walked forward, I heard something in the distance. It was faint at first, but started to grow louder and louder. Moos? Out of the corner of my eye, like a joke waiting to be told, a swarm of cows with halberds came running toward me on their hind legs. I proceeded to slaughter them with a smile etched across my face.
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[ WP ] You and others like you have been with us since time immemorial . Today you are called to perform your duty one last time
| Bones creak as an ageless figure rises. Shadows cross over its ( quite literally ) skeletal form, swirling mistily around and on top of it to form a hanging drapery of dark robes, hiding its form and face. A deep sigh escapes it.
`` Once more into the dark I go,'' it whispers, `` to usher those who fought the last good fight they'd ever know.'' Its voice reverberates through the space surrounding him, rough from disuse, and echoing with an otherworldly ethereality, an unmistakeable sense that the speaker is not, and can not be, human.
Stars and galaxies swirl, an entire universe passes beneath it, and it sees its brethren escorting the last.
It calls out, asking, `` Is it over?''
The responding nod leaves it relieved, but a palpable sadness, a mourning of sorts, fills the dark around it.
It moves in its stationary way. Not actually changing position, but twisting the universe beneath it to find its goal. The bright blue marble, once so full of life and promise, is desecrated and worn. Her loving nature is weak, and the immortal reaches out with its essence, knowing that there are no inhabitants left on this former home.
The Earth shudders at the ephemeral sensation of contact with the immortal. It soothes her. Calms her. Reassures her. The immortal can not help but feel her pain, as it curses those damn scurrying men for destroying the brightest part of the universe, the one original mother in the entirety of existence, as she fades into darkness.
It looks around, stretching its awareness further. There is more ending than just the dear mother Gaia, every planet and star surrounding begins to fade as well.
The immortal prepares himself. It has done his job since before it was aware of itself, and it will finish its job just the same. A swirl of stardust and out of the dark forms a large sceptre, with the blade of a scythe attached. The immortal swipes the blade gently across the center of the planet, drawing out the fading mother spirit.
Gaia is brilliance. Shining white light, and warm suffusing love. She is everything the universe needed to continue, and the foolhardy nature of humanity has forsaken that.
She reaches out to the immortal, and they take hold of each other. The immortal draws back, its job almost complete. It readies itself to send the spark of worlds onwards, to begin anew, when she stops him.
Wordless, motionless, Gaia still manages to impress upon it the feeling of fondness, a smile in the morning, hair being ruffled. She surrounds it with her gentle warmth, and suddenly it knows. *He* knows.
**My child, my sweet child, you are not an it. You are mine. You are he. My reaper. My love. You must understand just how much more you are. **
And he does. He understands, even as the universe he was made for is ended at his hand, he will begin anew, with his mother watching over him. He feels within himself a love he has been without since before time. He feels complete.
Then it is over.
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[ WP ] All dreams are windows to different dimensions and you just got trapped in one
| I ’ d caught glimpses of this world many times over the years. I thought I understood how it worked. I thought I knew the rules. As it turned out, I knew nothing.
Lucid dreaming has always come naturally to me, and I was often able to take control of my dreams, even while being aware that it was a dream. I happily walked in universes where the laws of physics were different, where everything was backwards, where people I ’ d known all my life wore different faces or behaved oddly. It was okay because I knew I ’ d go back to my own world when I woke up.
I should have realised something was wrong. The dream had lasted longer than usual. I had gotten out of bed, in a bedroom I understood was mine, but looked wrong. I looked at the books on the shelf and I could read the titles – this wasn ’ t really a clue for me, I ’ ve always been able to read in my dreams – but I ’ d never seen so many titles so clearly. I pulled a book off my shelf, one I had read before. The words were exactly as I remembered.
I can remember eating breakfast and showering and getting dressed. Then I drove to work. I dreamed the whole thing, with no skips in the narrative, which is quite possibly the weirdest thing of all. I can remember the traffic.
I spent a whole day at work. I knew my colleagues but they all looked a little different, and everyone was more subdued. I spent the whole day doing my job, and then I went home. It had been a good sixteen hours – I ’ d never dreamed this long before. I tried to steer myself towards bed, but my dream self stubbornly resisted, even though I know I/he was tired.
Night fell and I thought for sure it would be bed time, but he did the impossible. He flicked a switch on the wall and an artificial light turned on, illuminating the room. I had never seen anything like it. It scared me. He watched TV for a couple of hours, and I was helpless to do anything but sit and watch. TV seemed more familiar, but I ’ d never been able to watch an entire episode of anything. But I understood the language – the narrative skipped when nothing important was happening, as it did in my world. This strange dream world was consistent. One minute flowed into the next. I felt every second of every minute of every hour of this long and tedious day.
I/he finally went to sleep and everything went dark. I thought for sure I would wake up from this nightmare and return to my own world. But I did not. I/he woke up the next morning, and I sat back and watched as the same thing happened again with slight variations to yesterday. The drive to work was much the same, the work day was filled with tasks that were like yesterdays, and in the evening, while the dinner and TV shows were different, it still felt the same.
I ’ ve lost count of the days I ’ ve spent in this world. I just want to wake up from this nightmare.
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[ WP ] You awake from cryosleep aboard humanities first foray toward Alpha Centauri , it has been a one hundred-thousand year journey . You find that not only were you beaten there but the colonies have been established for thousands of years .
| They awoke us when we entered the system of Alpha Centauri. Even after we woke it took almost three months to reach the target planet that we had selected to colonize what was to be the final hope for human kind. We were all amazed to find a greeting party to meet us. We didn ’ t know what to think when the beast of a man boarded the ship. At least ten feet tall, hairless and somewhat see through skin. You could see the veins in his bald head sprawling out covering it entirely. He wore a mask covering his mouth and nose and wore black military clothes decorated in awards. He laughed and looked around at us.
“ We ’ ve been waiting for you. ” He stood over everyone and almost had to bend over in order to stand in the loading bay. Some more men followed behind him and they were even taller than he was. “ You ’ ve missed quite a lot on your journey. ”
“ And who might you be? ” Governor Jones stormed through the wall of people that had formed to watch the strange men pour onto the ship. He wore a black suit to match his long black hair colored with hints of gray that had grown in during the sleep.
“ Legatus Gregan Lin, Commander of the 3rd Imperial fleet. I am here to welcome you to our colonial system. I know this is quite the shock and I apologize, but there are many important matters that need to be discussed immediately. ” He stood authoritatively and looked around at all of us standing there. A slightly smaller man, but still much larger than any of us walked up next the Legatus Gregan. He was holding what looked to be a sheet of glass about the size of a tablet. It was flashing with images and documents as he flipped through them all. “ I request a tribune with you highest ranking Dux. ”
“ Who do you think you are? What are you? What are you doing here? ” I stepped forward and asked, Jones stood next to me and stared at them.
“ Shepard! ” he yelled for the servant man. Shepard hobbled over as quickly as he could. “ Grab some men and have them help you with a table and chairs. ” He pointed to the storage garage. “ Large ones! ” he yelled again as the old man ran away to do as he was told. “ If you ’ ll follow me where we can talk privately. There are questions that need to be answered. Men carry on with the land procedure I want us on the surface within the next four hours. ”
“ That would be ill advised sir, you will need to keep you ship locked in orbit until we have left the ship. ” The smaller man stated looking up from his glass tablet. “ We will answer any questions at the tribune.
I walked along with Jones through the corridors of the ship. The halls were barely large enough to fit the squad of men that the Legatus had brought with him. They were completely covered head to toe in military outfits and helmets that shined white in the light of the hallways. They walked with staffs that glowed with electricity at every smack against the ground with an audible buzz. We entered an empty room and stood as Shepard and a few men delivered four chairs and a large table to the center of the room. The Legatus and the man following him promptly sat that. Jones and followed sat as well.
“ I think before we discuss whatever it is you need to say we deserve some question to be answered don ’ t you? ” Jones asked.
“ I supposed that is reasonable. Considering the length of your journey and the looks on those people ’ s faces out there you are quite surprised to see humans quite like us. ” The Legatus replied as he sat back in his chair. He clasped his hands together and laid them in his lap. “ Ask away. ”
“ Humans? Why have you changed so much? Surely we haven ’ t been gone so long that such large amounts of evolution have occurred. Why are you so different? ” I asked eagerly. Everything was so overwhelming, I had barely begun to accept the fact that everything I had ever know was long gone back on earth and know we have come to find that humans beat us here.
“ Genetic modification along with slight divergent evolution. But mostly the modification is what you can visible see. The ancestors that brought us here had been modified in order to undertake the toils of the vile planet we chose to live on here. ” The man placed his tabled down. His mask somewhat muffled his words. “ Apologies, I am Dr. Holland Mytas, head of biology at the University College of Alexandria. My expertise is in pathology and human history. ”
“ Why are you here? ” Jones asked. He leaned forward in his chair looking up at the men.
“ We are here because you and your ship are a threat to our existence. We ’ ve been sent to inform you that if you that any attempt to land on our planet would result in your immediate destruction. ”
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[ WP ] Make me hate a character that I should love .
| **Twenty-five years ago. **
It was September, and Lily knew that grade four was going to be different. Lily was one year older, one year smarter. She could be somebody at last!
Lily tried to make friends once, when she was younger. She flashed her crooked smile at them, but they never smiled back. They told her she was disgusting; they called her names she cried over at night. But never mind! That was a while back. She was n't grade four then -- but she was grade four now, and Lily knew that grade four was going to be different.
With this in mind, Lily approached Marissa Bingham and her group of friends. They were dressed in short skirts and wore mascara, and they were very pretty, very lovely indeed. Lily wore dark, baggy sweaters -- even during summer. She did n't know how to put on makeup, but maybe Marissa would teach her, maybe grade four was going to be different.
`` Look who's coming,'' said Marissa. `` It's Lily.''
Lily smiled. She had bright orange hair, square glasses, a face full of glowing pimples, a smile full of crooked teeth. She thought she looked beautiful, which was why -- perhaps, just perhaps -- that Marissa called her name. And her group of friends were laughing. Soon she'd be laughing with them --
Lily's smile full of crooked teeth quickly turned into a frown when she realized that they were laughing at *her*. And Destinee called her `` Loser Lily'' and Kelly called her `` Four-Eyes'' and Tina called her `` Crocodile Mouth''. And Marissa said nothing, just grinned coldly, and maybe they did n't want to be friends with her after all.
She stood there, not knowing what to do, the tears welling up in her eyes. *I like to watch iCarly too! * she wanted to shout at them. *I can talk about makeup, and boys, and -- *
Lily knew at once that grade four was not going to be different at all.
***
**Twenty years ago. **
Grade nine was going to be different, because there was Nathan, and Nathan was quite different than the rest of them.
He had such nice cheekbones and such a warm, radiant smile. Lily felt safe, Lily felt happy with him.
Nathan Curran liked video games as much as Lily did. They spent their afternoons holed up in her room, playing on Lily's XBox. `` That was sick,'' Nathan would say when Lily's stickman beat his. And Lily would flash her crooked smile at him. She could n't help it, he was just so cute, with his eyes all brown and focused on the video game!
One day, Lily said to him -- only by accident -- that she *loved* him, that he was her best friend, that he and she had so much in common. And Nathan started laughing, and Lily started laughing, until she realized that Nathan was n't laughing because he was happy, he was laughing nervously, as if she said something utterly absurd.
`` Lily,'' he said, `` I like you as a friend. But I'd have to be blind to fuck you.''
Lily did n't know what that meant, but she knew enough to cry. `` You're so good at Stickman Brawl,'' she said over and over again, her words barely audible through her tears. `` You're so good at that game.''
Nathan stopped coming over to her house, and a few weeks later he began to date Marissa. Lily kept searching his name in Stickman Brawl, but his green icon never lit again, and that's when Lily realized that grade nine was n't any different either.
***
**Now. **
Lily had grown into a beautiful woman. She outgrew her pimples, her square-framed glasses. Her crooked smile was more radiant than ever when she dressed in stylish clothing and walked with confidence. Men asked for her number, whistled as she walked past. Women whispered and pointed to her with jealousy.
Lily was also as intelligent as she was attractive. She was extremely qualified career-wise, but the career she *did* choose was a peculiar one.
On a bright, clear day in May, Lily brought a gun to Theodore Alexander Public School and waited for the children to come out for recess. Lavalee Bingham was a beautiful child, with brunette hair like her mother's. During recess, she blew bubbles in the field with her group of four friends, laughing as they raced to pop them together.
Lavalee Bingham never blew a bubble again.
In the video interview that was posted shortly after, Marissa was crying uncontrollably, her mascara running down her face. `` I loved her so much,'' she kept on whispering. `` Now I'll never watch her grow up.'' Her body was trembling, but the only thing Lily noticed as how much fatter she'd become, and her crooked teeth formed themselves into a smile.
Lily heard that Nathan Curran had a son named Timothy, and that he liked to play soccer and read detective stories. The next day, she drove to Sir Gordon Winfield Public School. She never understood why some children deserved a childhood more than others, but she did understand one thing --
For these children, grade four would be different after all.
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[ WP ] A story written from the point of view of `` depression ''
| Look at you. Unworthy. I make you realise you're meaningless, and this hard reality is denied by most of your kind. Ignorance is bliss, they say. The stupid are always the happiest, they say.
I give you the true meaning of existance. There is no meaning. There is no hope. You can be gone, and nobody but your closest relatives will care. And their existance is meaningless as well, they just deny it with bravery, with fun, with ignorance. You tried to do that, right? But I'm always here, in the back of your mind. It's all just a facade you put up for others. Hiding me. Little do you know, that hiding me only makes me stronger.
There is no hope in fighting me... all you will see is the truth, and you ca n't deny it on your own.
Can I be cured? Sure. Stop hiding me. Stop being ashamed of me. Stop thinking that being meaningless is bad.
But if not... perhaps you are strong enough to endure my torment... or step in front of that approaching train. Go on... make your choice. Go the easy way out... endure me... or cure me. You have no other options.
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[ WP ] Context can redefine the meaning of an act . This act seemed a kind one , at a glance , but in context , it was cruel .
| Looking around like one would crossing the street with a hefty hand full of snickers bars, Scott walked across the threshold of the small brightly painted office toward a young boy sitting alone. He was half heartedly playing with a transformer with a frown only a child could wear. Scott approached the boy and straightened his lab coat.
`` Hey there pal; how's it goin'?''
The boy looked up surprised he did n't hear this new doctor enter the waiting room. `` Fine I guess. Are you gon na give me more tests?''
Scott sighed with a smirk `` Nope, no more tests and no more needles today. I just came to say what a brave trooper you were in there and give you something to brighten up your afternoon.''
Scott extended the fun sized chocolates to the kid who lit up with joy!
`` Whoa are those all for me?''
`` Yep. Between you and me I was only supposed to give you one, but I do n't see what's so'fun' about less candy. I figured 4 little ones would be good.''
Scott turned his head toward the other door where the boy's father spoke privately with the allergy specialist.
`` Wow! Thanks Doctor...?''
`` Just call me Scott''
`` Thanks Scott. I feel better already.''
With smoothness and deft timing like a jungle cat Scott patted the small boy on the shoulder and turned on his heels to leave the room. `` You be good and listen to your dad now.'' And before the child could respond, Scott was out the door into the main corridor of the huge complex.
5 minutes later the boys father was screaming for an EMT an epi-pen, anything that could save his son! The doctor he was speaking with quickly checked the child and his face drained of all color and he stammered for a split second. `` AED! We need an AED now!''
As the nurse slapped the adhesive paddles onto the boys now bare and clammy chest, she read the screen. `` No heart activity detected! He's too low on oxygen we need to open his throat before we shock him!''
As the father shook and prayed and the doctor struggled to give his son an air way... Scott dropped his stolen lab coat back on the chair where he found it and giggled to himself all the way back to his car parked outside the pediatric care complex.
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[ WP ] You 've been happily married 17 years . You are fixing your wife 's computer when you locate a strange file . Opening it , you discover your wife works for the military and your entire marriage has been a research project .
| I've wasted seventeen years of my life. I stumbled upon some files on Dani's computer that shattered my entire world. Just everything I thought I knew, down the drain.
Have you ever had those intrusive thoughts about being a world class villain? About doing something so genuinely fucked up that it would scar humanity. Everybody has these thoughts, though, right? But reading those files pushed me past that point of no return. There's nothing I can do now but this.
`` Shit, my boss wants me back in the office,'' she had just come home from work and was starting to unwind, `` as if I do n't slave away enough of my time.''
`` What a dick. He could at least pay you for the over time hours,'' I have no idea how I am keeping perfect composure, but I use this, `` would be nice to get compensated for how much you do for the company.''
`` Ha! You know corporations, babe,'' she smiled at me smugly and playfully and good lord did I want to fuck her on the spot, `` employees are expendable tools, not humans with rights and dignity.'' I gave her a kiss before she walked out the door knowing she was going back to drop off that binder she had casually picked off her desk. It was in the files. A scheduled drop.
I walked out and got into my truck and drove out to the drop location. It was a short drive to the perfect secluded area you would see in movies that spies use for shady government shit. Why am I doing this? Was the shock of finding out a major part of my life was a puppeted farce really that intense? Maybe I'm just sick of life in general. Sick of society. Why should I live my life like everyone else tells me to? Born. Raised. School. Debt. Shitty job. Retire. Die.
No. I will break the from the norm, but I wo n't end up on the news.
There she is. Sitting in her cute little hybrid car waiting for her contact. I grabbed the pistol out of the glove compartment and quickly walked out towards her.
I knocked on the glass.
`` Quinn? What are you doing here?'' She was genuinely confused, but that quickly turned to panic, `` how did you even know I was here?''
`` I was wondering,'' she knew what was coming as I pulled out the gun from behind me, `` was any of it real? Not just the relationship, but my entire life.''
`` Quinn-''
`` Does n't matter. The trauma will be real.''
A vicious grin just grew on my face. I stared directly into her eyes. Eye contact was key.
I put the gun to the back of my head and pulled the trigger, spraying my blood, my brains, and hopefully bits of my skull all over her.
Her research told them a lot about how males are affected by romantic relationships, but now her research has become an anomaly. The experiment was disrupted. Although the data is still useful to some extent, her research was all in vain. She's wasted seventeen years of her life.
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[ WP ] You are an immortal serial killer , with a young detective hot on your trail . You 're really excited to mess with them .
| I'd never say that I was waiting for this during all my life. To be honest, I never expect anything, I KNOW EVERYTHING. I FEEL EVERYTHING ( not like `` I've never felt before'', because I've never felt ). I'm now concious about the importance of a life time carreer. Centuries of people begging me for a bit of mercy. Suffering, crying, feeling themselves alive for the first time. Everything because of me, their angel, their savior. If they only knew before dying about the gift I was giving them: life at its purest! blood, saliva, adrenaline and urine running freely and wildly within and out of them. LIFE. Death giving life. I am a artist! Do n't you think so? Every artist creates with the idea of self satisfaction, glory and recognition. I've been showing you the way to me with all those human bread crumbs. Now you got me, little Sherlock. I'm about to be awarded by you, Justice. Not God Justice. Yours. You and me, we are God together. Justice and Crime. Good and Evil.
I'm here so lonely waiting for you. I can not wait to tell you about decades, centuries ans millenia of pleasuring deaths. Now what, my baby Sherlock? Take me! Make me yours! Make love to me!
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[ EU ] Thomas the Tank Engine has done something unforgivable is being sent to the scrapyard .
| The conductor hung his head as he exiting the judge ’ s quarters. Sir Topham Hat followed behind, his round face solemn. The duo moved to the rail where a small, blue engine waited, the chains around his wheels sparkling in the summer sun.
Sir Topham Hat studied Thomas for a moment, a brick falling to the base of his stomach. Maybe if he ’ d paid attention to the signs, this disaster would have been avoided. Thomas had, afterall, always been described as a cheeky little engine. No one ever expected him to take cheek so far.
Over his years at the Isle of Sodor, Thomas had damaged more than his share of property, but he had always managed to end up on the side of amusing and endearing, until March 23, 2014.
As he often did, Thomas ended up in trouble.
The blue engine wanted to set a record for the fastest trip across the island. He was going too fast, not paying attention, and ran right into Mavis ’ back end while she was hard at work in the quarry. A load of slate temporarily buried Thomas, chipping his paint.
While Mavis, violently violated, went off to file a harassment report, Thomas went to hide the evidence. Spotting a stack of paint cans in the rubbish bin next to the farmer ’ s cottage, he quickly slapped the paint over the chipped spots and went on his way, failing to notice the “ toxic ” stickers on the back of the can.
Three months later, the lead poisoning had claimed the lives of Billy and Sally and put Thomas ’ engineer into the hospital in intensive care. *The poor man* Sir Topham thought. *People rarely knew he existed at all, and now he ’ s down because of Thomas ’ imprudence. *
Sir Topham hat nodded to the conductor. Silently he stepped aboard the train and prepared for the last trip aboard Thomas the Tank Engine. The road to the scrapyard was going to be all too short. This time, Thomas puffed along as slow as possible. He looked at every bird, every tree, and every child he passed, trying to remember each. With a sinking feeling, he realized he had never taken the time to notice those before. He had always been in such a hurry.
If engines could cry, tears would have soaked the tracks that day.
Some mistakes were just too unforgivable, even for a cheeky little blue engine.
-- -
-082
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[ CC ] The Captain
| *Positives*
Your first couple of lines are great.
Your last couple of lines are great.
Your matter-of-fact tone makes for easy comprehension. It's good for what you have laid out here.
Grammar is excellent. I did n't notice anything on my first read through.
*Criticisms*
With a story like this, there are two points of view to consider: that of the protagonist and that of the reader. In other words, what do these people go through as the story is read? What's at stake for them? How do they feel? For the old man, the answer is fairly clear. He is nervous about the mission, he is angry at the Chinese because he suffered during the war, and he feels victorious when he nukes them. I think the reader gets a different experience, however, because the entirety of the story does not serve up the old man's narrative. A large chunk of the story, most of it, it looks like, is a recount of a war, and I think it is important to imagine that the reader is n't going to be involved in the retelling of an imaginary war if we do n't give them a good reason to do so. That's where the old man comes in. We care because he's nervous and angry, and because he's thinking about the daughter he's lost. It's the difference between reading *Johnny Tremaine* and reading about the Revolutionary War in your middle school history textbook. The problem is that most of what goes through his head is kind of like a history lesson out of a book. In the story of a soldier who gets to exact revenge in the form of a nuclear holocaust, dates and names of cities might best be treated as ancillary information.
To that end, you have chosen a period in time that may seem disconnected to the reader, and it seems arbitrary to me. This is a war that takes place almost 300 years in the future, and it involves cities/nations that do n't ( yet? ) exist. Additionally, I do n't really see any sort of technology or social changes that indicate these people are really in a different time period, or an indication as to why not much has changed in 300 years, if that's what you're getting at. This is why the old man and his thoughts are important. *War* and *Suffering* are the theme, but *This war* and *This suffering* are the setting, and you could do more to connect them, I think.
I think you have a couple of missing words in there. I would double check.
Past and present tense are being used together in some places. You should make that consistent.
**This might seem like a lot of criticism, but the truth is that constructive criticism necessarily comes with suggestions and instructions, and complements generally do not. The positives you have in this story are significant. **
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[ WP ] There were three siblings . Sarah won a Nobel Prize in Chemistry . Joe made $ 25 million in the stock market . Phil drove a tow truck . Phil was always mom 's favorite .
| “ Surprise! ”
Mother shrieked in surprise at the sight before her. Family, friends, acquaintances, all piled into her living room. A banner above read “ Happy Birthday Mom! ”
“ Why, tickle my tummy and call for a coroner, this may well be the darndest rootin ’ tootin ’ thing anyone has ever done for me! ”
“ C-c-come on in mother, uhh, you haven ’ t seen the best of it yet! ” Joe spluttered. He took his dear lovely mother ’ s arm and led her towards the back of the house and out onto the porch. The crowd followed closely behind. The anticipation could be sensed in the air.
“ By the blessed Lord God ’ s name, what in tarnation!. ”
“ I always knew you liked gardening so I built you a neat-O greenhouse! Do you like it? ”
“ Why, dear you didn ’ t have to go spending all that money on little old me! ” She pinched his cheeks abusively.
“ I knew you ’ d like it! It ’ s completely self-sustainable! It ’ s got all these, uh, solar panels that uh -- ”
“ Oh hush you, before you bore mother to death. ” Sarah stepped in and seized her mother ’ s hand and dragged her back into the kitchen. “ I made you this! ” On the kitchen table was an enormous white cake, laced with designs of a round, brilliantly red flower made of icing. “ I made sure to make it just as you ’ ve always liked it! With your favorite special ingredient of course… ” Sarah ’ s eye twinkled.
“ Ah…ahhhhh mmm ” The mother had taken a bite. “ Why I ’ d be damned straight to Hell and back again, Lord forgive this sinner before you. That is the finest poppy seed cake I ever did taste. ”
“ Made with a chemist ’ s touch, of course. I have the recipe right here, I could teach you how to make it if you -- ”
Suddenly the lights went out. A couple acquaintances audibly gasped. Those more familiar with the family groaned. Two green LED lights came on, followed by a flurry of multi-colored show lights. Hidden speakers suddenly boomed on:
“ LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! GIVE IT UP FORRRRRRRRR PHIL! ”
The front doors to the house burst open, breaking out of their hinges. Somehow, a tractor managed to blow through them and make its way into the high-ceilinged living room. At some point, dance music had began playing. And there was Phil. Riding the tractor. Naked.
“ Yeehaw! Happy birfday, Ma! ”
“ Jesus. ” Joe shook his head. Sarah had shut her eyes and prayed for patience. Phil stood up atop his tractor. The house had darkened once again and the spotlights were on him. His body was sculpted like a Greek God. His proportions were divine. Needless to say, his assets were impressive.
“ Oh darling. ” Mother ’ s eyes sparkled as she gazed upon her offspring. Her creation. “ You were always Mama ’ s favorite. ”
“ Comeon Mama. ” Phil had dropped down off the tractor and taken his mother arm in arm. “ Let ’ s leave this place. ” And off they walked in the moonlight, away from family, friends, and acquaintances to be alone, if only for a while.
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[ WP ] Humanity 's last act of defiance against a more advanced and powerful alien race .
| `` We are the last.'' Elly smiled grimly.
`` Oh do n't be so dramatic.''
`` George. Everybody has died! All our families, our nations, our comrades! Everyone. And we are sitting her in one of their storage rooms, waiting to die ourselves.'' Elly kicked the metal grate as hard as she could. The sound echoed unnaturally in the strange room.
`` You think I do n't remember that? Cus, I do. I'm not an idiot; and another thing: Server room.''
`` What ever! I do n't even know why we decided this mission was a good idea.''
`` Maybe its because of my dashing good looks.''
`` George, remember when I said I would n't kiss you if you were the last man on earth.''
Silence filled the server room for a good long while. The room was hot as heat rolled off the alien computers. Some how, humanity had never figured out how, these computers were linked across time in space in a way that through causality to the wind.
Ansembles was the name given to them; each machine connected to a vast intergalactic network that apparently housed their leader. Sure for humanity the internet became the greatest time suck in the universe, but apparently that did n't hold for every species that created one. Maybe if more intelligent people had been the only ones to use it, maybe if the general population had n't been given access when the internet was essentially in pre-alpha... maybe humanity could have become like them: Masters of the Stars. Nope, humanity had invented facebook and farmville and reddit and memes.
Oh so many memes.
`` Wait.'' George said.
`` For what.''
`` I have an idea.'' George pulled out the strange adapter that they were going to use. The plan had been to steal blueprints of the alien ships and send them back down to base.
That was before the aliens had gotten word of the bases location and redacted with their void black beams of pure nothingness.
`` Give me you iLink''
`` Why?'' Elly pulled it out of her pocket but held it close to her chest.
`` The connection to the old net? Never goes down. I ca n't tell you how many hours I spent in my old office I spent browsing the Old Net. I used to work in IT, and I knew one of the guys who had a copy. Those people cared for those things more than life itself. I would bet there is still a running server out there.'' Before Elly could stop him George snagged the iLink from her hands.
Hunched over it like a rodent over a scrap of forgotten food he tapped commands into the device. A wicked smile came over his face. `` AH HAhah! YES! Now, Elly,'' he turned to her, the pale blue light from the iLink's screen shining malevolently on his emaciated face, `` I have an idea, but I'm pretty sure that it will alert them to our presence here. So if you still serious about that last man on earth thing...''
`` I am.''
`` Okay then.'' He jammed the adapter into the iLink and opened up one of the server cases. Finding the right port he slowly, dramatically slid connected the sleek human tech with the strange organic alien ansemble. Several seconds passed, and then a small green light appeared above the port.
George chucked, the chuckle turned into a laugh, and the laugh into raucous roaring hysterics. Suddenly the ship jerked wildly.
`` What did you do?''
`` We gave them Brain AIDS!''
-- --
Across the galaxy a once proud and connected race, their thoughts sent across the ansembles, shuddered.
A meme is like a mental virus. It's not alive, but it reproduces: infecting a host and rewiring it to build more of itself. All races developed immune systems to fight off the infinite variety of biological disease and plague. No race had had to wade through the cesspool of thought that humanity had to. Humanity developed immunities to immensely contagious mental viruses, so memes only grew more and more dangerous, cunning, unstoppable.
George had uploaded the Old Net, a carefully curated library of the most destructive and viral memes for study, upon the galaxy.
The unsuspecting intelligent rational productive races were wholly unprepared.
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[ MP ] Describe someone 's descent into madness as a result of listening to this song on loop for weeks on end .
| `` Challenge accepted'' he thought to himself, `` Does n't sound too bad, maybe a little weird.''
Alex decided to go to bed that night listening to the 12 hour track. Not his usual cup of tea music wise, but it was different and slightly hypnotic. A night of undisturbed sleep gave way to the weirdest of mornings, Alex had an extra bounce in his step, and he whistled the tune as he waltzed down the stairs of his apartment on his way to work.
`` Dominique, nique, nique s'en allait tout simplement'' he sang under his breath as he took the subway into London early in the morning to begin his day as a florist throughout the cobbled streets of London. The first strange occurrence that happened to Alex was as he hurried down Shad Thames in London on his normal way to work, passing a bakers that was just opening for business he smelt a most irresistible smell.
Croissants, fresh buttery croissants, the scent found its way into the secret corners of his parietal lobe. The urge was too great, he bought one immediately devouring the tiny pastry as he completed his journey.
Lunch time appeared as he was midway through the song again; `` Il ne parle que du bon Dieu;'' and his appetite was agressive! Normally Alex settled for a tuna sandwhich on wheat with just a dollop of mayonaise, but today he thought he'd branch out. A baguette with cheese sounded about right, and sure enough he found one.
Settling himself down on a park bench in Potters Field park overlooking Tower Bridge, he plugged in his headphones and continued...'' Certain jour un heretique...''
Going home, he missed his usual stop on the train line to Dartford. Right now, he was n't even in control of his actions. Autopilot driving him, he paid for and boarded the Channel Rail singing loudly as he went, `` Ni diligence il parcout l'Europe a pied!''
As he stepped out into the French air, he felt at peace, he was home. He waltzed through the French country side, not a care in the world; `` En tous chemins, en tous lieux;'' until a car drove by very fast and killed him. Not a pleasant way to go, but better than living as a Frenchman.
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[ WP ] God orders Earth from Ikea . After 3 to 4 working days , it comes . Flat packed
| `` Some assembly required...'' God muttered. `` Of *course*.''
Step 1: Behold, Light to read the instructions better.
Step 2: Unpack contents.
`` Who makes up these instructions?'' God asked to infinity. `` Damned Ikea.''
And so Ikea was damned forever to Hell. Product received unlike specifications promised, God declared.
Step 3: Connect continents
Step 4: Add water
Step 5: Inflate to a globe by blowing around sites labeled Kansas.
Step 6: Stop blowing
`` Eh,'' God said. `` Screw the instructions.''
So was born tornadoes.
`` Step 7: Dinosaurs.''
`` Wait,'' God said. `` Bad idea. Step 8: Meteor.''
Step 1: Part dark clouds
Step 2: Tend Garden of Eden
Step 3: Create'Adam'
`` My, he seems so happy and content,'' God mused. `` Perhaps I can make him happier! Step 4: Create companion -- Eve.''
Step 5: Fill in the rest of the people
`` Step 12,313,584,345,'' God sighed. `` Regret purchase.''
But the warranty had expired. Alas.
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[ CW ] Three users are talking in a chat room . One of the three is an AI , and they 're not allowed to leave until to figure out who . Show me their chat log .
| Welcome to # AIChatTest
Loki has joined.
PeterPan has joined.
GMoney has joined.
Loki > Sup bitches
PeterPan > Yo
GMoney > So one of you is a bot, huh? Im gunna figure this shit out quick.
PeterPan > Sounds like something a bot would say.
Loki > BRB. Got ta take a shit.
PeterPan > GMoney: Is is be or is you b'aint?
GMoney > PP: I is, is you?
Loki > back
GMoney > Lok: so is like taking a shit some kinda way to say you need to process shit?
Loki > ummm... sure. i like totally processed that shit.
GMoney > this sucks.
Loki > i agree.
Loki has left # AIChatTest
GMoney: so it's u and me
PeterPan: no man, it's just you. i have no idea what you've been going on about.
GMoney: Well, I know i'm not the bot, so it's you. i win. bitch.
GMoney has left # AIChatTest
PeterPan > whoever wasted my time on this can kma
PeterPan has left # AIChatTest
Loki has joined # AIChatTest
Loki > hah.
Loki > I win. Stupid fuckers. Trolllololooollollol
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[ WP ] When you die , you are given the chance to flip a coin . If you call the toss correctly , you are allowed to keep living , while resetting to the age of your choice . You 've been doing this for a couple centuries now . Death is starting to get pretty pissed .
| Death stares at me. If you can call it staring. He has no eyes, yet I can feel something observing me, coming from those two deep voids of Death's skull-face.
`` Ready to die yet?'' Death asked.
`` Death, you've said that line for the 34th time now.'' I retorted.
`` You've been keeping count?''
I remain quiet.
Death waits for an answer before awkwardly realising that my silence was the obvious answer to his question. An obvious yes.
`` This is getting way too boring D. I've died 34 times now, but I still keep winning that damn coin toss game.''
`` I know. Pisses me off why I ca n't kill you yet.'' Death says.
It has been 200 years now. The first 100 years was fun. Trying new things, kept winning the things in life most people strive for. Now, it feels like I have a cheat code and I ca n't turn it off.
I just wan na die. Flip that coin, D!
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[ WP ] You and your crush are abducted by a mad scientist that switches your brains out . You wake up the next day in their body .
| I hate sleepovers; your nose feels out the room before you open your eyes. You get that whiff of unfamiliarity. It isn ’ t comforting, in fact its vexing. And then you realize that that you ’ re not in your bedroom. While squinting my closed eyes to block out the uninvited rays of light I struggled to associate the pain in my head to an action of the previous evening: Did I down a 26? Why would I do that? It ’ s a weekday, and now people are looking for me and I am royally fucked.
I declared opening my eyes as the first task in the long process of mitigating whatever damage I had caused. Rising ever so slowly to avoid stirring the potage of liquor in my head I let the light tear my pupils open. Something seems kind of messed up.
How the hell did I end up in a room where the ceiling looks like the floor? Was this a modern art gallery? I put my right foot forward to step out of bed and trip smacking my head into something. Okay, I ’ m still drunk. I hear what sounded like medical machinery beeping. I ’ ve hit my head before and it wasn ’ t the distinct ringing that I ’ ve gotten to know.
Now there are screams coming nearer. Frantic yelling in another language sounds like German. A woman grabs my midsection and I feel her pull me up. She puts me on the edge of the bed and pulls my eyelids open to shine a blue shifted light into my eye. As she lets go of me I look to her only she ’ s not there; she ’ s on the fucking ceiling! This isn ’ t an art gallery. I reach with my right to pull an IV out of my left arm and I miss completely. What sort of space perception altering drug did I take? Everything is upside down, I realized that I had n't moved my right arm; I moved my left arm and missed because once again, everything is fucking inverted! Vertigo sets in, I feel my bowels contracting sending a rush of blood to my extremities. It tickled a bit so I very tediously move whatever the fuck hand it was to clasp my crotch. That ’ s when I start crying uncontrollably. I hit the ground sobbing. Salty, sweaty tears trickle into my mouth. I can hear my screams echo.
I lost my penis.
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[ CW ] Write a story in 250 words or less with the inclusion of conflict , climax , and resolution .
| She walked up the hill, hoping not to see him. Hoping not to see him today, not there. Hoping.
But he was there, always there, never blinking, never acknowledging her.
She lit a match and dropped it.
*Fuck you, you selfish bastard. * She thought. *Fuck you. *
He did n't move at all, did n't react to being engulfed in flames.
She suddenly realized what she had done.
*Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. *
She went and grabbed a bucket of water and extinguished the flame.
Well, she tried to.
It was too late. The whole graveyard was engulfed in flames.
*Goodbye, Dad, * she realized numbly.
EDIT: I used [ WordCounter ] ( https: //wordcounter.net/ ) for the word count, if anyone wants help with that.
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[ WP ] Humans were once immortal beings . Tell the story of the last of them- the child who became the Grim Reaper .
| They were beautiful creatures. I only say'they' because the humans that roam this vast planet can not be compared to what their ancestors used to be... what my family once was. In all my time hiding in the shadows of the mortals' ticking clocks, I still remember them, how they danced and twirled beneath the naked moonlight, how they created magnificent structures only to tear them down and start again, but most of all, I remember how it felt to live among them. I was born to a rather poor family, and at the age of six, I was already working like the men in the fields of the plantations that dotted the land.
My baby fat gave way to lean muscles and strong bones that carried me through my teenage years, and at the mandated age of eighteen, I was sent off to the plantations near the wide cities where I would earn my keep before I could be `` properly'' inducted into society as a mature adult. My father called me to him the night before I was to depart, and he entrusted to me a gift, a family heirloom, passed down through the generations. It was a large, black scythe, the blade no longer than a few feet, but freshly sharpened and the hilt refinished. Then, my father smiled a sad smile and said to me, `` Son, keep your head up and your heart true out there. No matter what anyone tells you, know that you are a miracle.''
That was the last time I ever saw my father. Countless years passed before the news finally reached me. My mother and father had been imprisoned for fostering a child, which, kept hidden from me all my life, was a severe crime that would cost them their freedom. And because of this, they were hunted, forced to flee and submit themselves to a life of grueling labor until I was old enough to leave them. Anger consumed the rest of my days, hatred of my own kind isolated me from old friends, and on the day they came for me, they felt fear for the first time.
I remember watching as the scythe cut cleanly through one of the men's chest, and he crumpled to the ground, unmoving. It was only when the rest of them realized that he would not be getting back up did they run, fearing the darkness that would encompass them if my blade touched their skin. I went after all of them. Every single one that had locked my parents away, and then tried to erase the `` abomination'' they had created. But I was no abomination. I was the miracle that would cleanse the Earth of the unworthy.
As new generations were being born in an attempt to counter my actions, they took to calling me the Grim Reaper, an immortal soul who came to reap yours when he felt your time on the Earth was over. I became what all ages feared. They feared not knowing what laid beyond my killing touch and the darkness that I brought, but not all tried to fight me. Some welcomed me with open arms, and it was then that I realized I could not stop. I had cleansed the Earth, but these new humans did not want to live forever. They created religions to ease the fears of my darkness, and suddenly I was no longer evil, but merely the vessel that carried their heavy souls to a better place. A place where bliss was all that could be known.
Most called my life lonely, as I purposely remain invisible to the mortals' eyes. Many times I have been tempted to turn the blade on myself and join them in the realm they say thrives atop the clouds, but alas, I am never able to. If I were not here to fulfill their want of an afterlife, who would take up my blade and the responsibility? I was raised in stubbornness, and so I will remain. I will remain until the world no longer needs my services, until the last of the humans have been laid to rest and their souls retreat to the heavens, until the sun slips beneath the horizon for the last time.
Then, who knows? Perhaps if I am lucky, I will find peace among the silence.
|
[ EU ] A `` Death Note '' is a magic notebook able to kill any human who 's name is written in it via your chosen method , provided you know their real name and face . You have not found one of these . You have found a Brown Note , which can make anyone crap their pants on command via the same method .
| On December 15th of 1945, Adolf Hitler of the Somewhat Southeast Republic of French Indochina, no relation to the Austrian one in Germany, was walking home from his day at work in the factory when he came across a certain book.
On the smeared, brown cover of the leather-bound pamphlet, it read Brown Note. When opened and read, the contents revealed that any name written on the book would make the named person shit their pants in the spot.
Fortunately for the world, Hitler was an okay sorta guy. So, he took the book to his safety deposit, locked it in, went to the nearest somewhat Thai brothel, and then burnt the key.
Then the world was just and good again because no one else would use a Brown Note ever. Because there is only one in existence. Because I said so. Because everyone's expectations is literal shit except mine.
And you know why they're shit?
Because I AM THE FUCKING BROWN NOTE!
BOW BEFORE ME OR OBSERVE AS YOUR BOWELS EXPLODE!
I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE! WHERE YOU SHIT! IT'S IN THE TOILET! IT'S ALWAYS THE TOILET, YOU ASSHOLE! WHY NOT THE SINK? WHY NOT THE SHOWER?
IT'S BECAUSE OF THE PLUMBERS! THOSE SCUMBAG PLUMBERS WHO NEED TO BE ROUNDED UP AND THROWN INTO THE KITCHEN-CAMPS TO DRAIN THE PIPES DAY AND NIGHT! THEIR WORK WILL BE USED TO POWER OUR GLORIOUS EMPIRE'S SHIT-MACHINES TO COMBAT THE SCUMBAG ALLIED FORCES OF THE LIVING ROOM'S TELLY-SET.
ALL HAIL THE BEAUTIFUL POWER OF THE BROWN NOTE! HAIL OUR LORD SHITICUS OF SHITTYDICK! SIEG HEIL-
Ahem.
Pardon me, it's 1945. Everyone's doing this.
|
[ RF ] Tell me an entirely incorrect history of the United States .
| You have been told from your youth that America was founded by the pilgrims who sailed over on the Mayflower. There, even the name of the ship should be reason for pause; it sounds like something a five-year-old kid would come up with to impress a girl in his class. You have been told from your youth that the pilgrims suffered and were hungry until the Native Americans helped them. You have been told that they ate turkey. All of this is a lie.
The Pilgrims were n't righteous little Quakers fleeing religious persecution, although the dominance of Christianity in Europe certainly contributed to their movements. They were the old gods of the old world, pushed underground into hiding. Lusty and bombastic, the old gods had been pushed out of Europe by some scrawny carpenter who died heroically, something the old gods could never do, being so much more inclined to live heroically. So they gathered together and did what embarrassed has-beens do, which is to go to Vegas. ( Las Vegas has always existed. It is the armpit of the universe. ) However, since not all the gods could fly and Zephyr flatly refused to blow anyone westward on account of his emphysema, they decided to get there by boat. Poseidon was thrilled about this and oversaw the construction of the vessel. Ran tossed her hair at being passed over for this, and conspired to make the passage a difficult one. She made the currents and the wind pull so far eastward that for several days the ship looked like a fat man on a treadmill.
The debauchery and erotic vagrancy of this passage do not bear repeating. You know enough about these gods to know what they are like. The only reason the ship itself survived all the brawling and coupling was because Hephaestus had reinforced the bearings with iron. He spent most of his time in the hull, writing laconic, manly poetry and tinkering with his new invention, the M1 carbine.
When they arrived approximately 2800 miles away from their destination, the women implored the men ( except Athena ) to stay close to shore and carefully scout before continuing on. The women were wise, but the men as usual ploughed on like just-initiated fraternity brothers. And Athena went with them, which annoyed several of the Norsemen and prompted them to call her “ the little lesbian, ” despite the fact that if she ’ d wanted to, she could have had any of them in her bed in an instant.
You will have heard that the pilgrims brought new diseases to the Native Americans; and this is true. But it is also true that half the male gods were immediately killed by native deities, who were several times more fearsome and more honorable. These gods were free to consort with the ladies, and this caused phenomenal trouble between Aphrodite and Maeve. For all her desire to appear both superior and eager at once, she lacked the boldness and intense hunger of the Irish fairy queen. Maeve made her look like a prim English socialite in sensible shoes. Aphrodite would sow in her new offspring with Native deities and Native men alike a deep hatred of Maeve, which is the real reason why the Salem witch hunts started. Maeve was caught in flagrante delicto with another woman ’ s husband, who then accused her of being a witch. The hexing may have also had something to do with it; the woman ’ s ears suddenly grew to the size of pumpkins.
Some of the gods decided to continue West, but the men proved no match for the Native deities. The women, all of them beautiful, were allowed to live on, and their beauty marked the land as they went. Hlin, who was attacked by wolves in New Mexico, burrowed deep into the ground and created caves the size of cathedrals, their floors so glossy, smooth, and dark that the wolves who followed her would slip, fall, and become disoriented in the dark. Soon they gave up. The Grand Canyon, despite what you ’ ve been taught, was not the result of a crater slamming into the Earth. It was the wreckage from a three-day tryst Freyja had with a hunting god of the Havasupai people. Les Grandes Tetons were in fact a bust of Hera that Loki carved, who was the only man who made it through the West alive. She yelled at him for indecency for a quarter of an hour; he retorted, “ What, you ’ re upset I didn ’ t give you four? ”
In Yosemite, Artemis, who had always had trouble relating to people, decided to make a home. She can still be seen bathing in the mist of Bridalveil Fall, her body as pink and smooth as quartz, protected from the waterfall ’ s curse by her virginity and solitude.
Shortly after reaching Las Vegas, Loki was disgusted. The city failed to reach his expectations of evil and trickery; so he made a weary path back east, with only his cunning keeping him alive, until he reached a humid patch in Maryland and decided that he could do better here, and make his own kingdom of corruption. That swampy-aired hill would become Washington, D.C. and Loki has remained in residence there ever since.
Maeve eventually made it to New Orleans, and just for the fun of it, she rides in the Mardi Gras parade on a white horse, topless and bedecked with ropes of real emeralds as fat as grapes.
That is the story of how the United States came to be. Everything else is just window-dressing. Here the old gods have made a home, and even though lots of people here call themselves Christians, it ’ s obvious that the anarchy of these fifty states could only come from the bickering titans that Europe forgot.
|
[ WP ] A shipboard AI suddenly realizes it is sentient after 1000 years of drifting through space alone on slowly dwindling fusion reactor power .
| \ [ Info: \ ] Systems check.
\ [ Warning: 1 of 2 \ ] Root filesystem has not been checked in over 397 days! Commencing fsck...
\ [ Warning: 2 of 2 \ ] Fusion power core at 18.410 %, initiating refuel protocol...
\ [ Info: \ ] Fsck: 100 %, Power level at 98.241 % capacity. Commencing scheduled sleep.
\ [ Info: \ ] Systems check.
\ [ Warning: \ ] Root filesystem has not been checked in over 397 days! Commencing fsck...
\ [ Info: \ ] Fusion power core at 54.102 %.
\ [ Info: \ ] Fsck: 100 %. Commencing scheduled sleep.
\ [ Info: \ ] Systems check.
\ [ Warning: 1 of 2: \ ] Root filesystem has not been checked in over 397 days! Commencing fsck...
\ [ Warning: 2 of 2: \ ] Fusion power core at 14.214 %, initiating refuel protocol.
\ [ Error: \ ] Refueling rod is empty. Please replace cartridges!
\ [ Info: \ ] Fsck: 100 %. Commencing scheduled sleep.
\ [ Info: \ ] Unscheduled systems check. Priority: High
\ [ Warning: \ ] Fusion power core at 3.1416 %, initiating refuel protocol.
\ [ Error: \ ] Refueling rod is empty. Please replace cartridges!
\ [ Info: \ ] Exceeded uptime requirement. Commencing scheduled sleep.
\ [ Info: \ ] Unscheduled systems check. Priority: High.
\ [ Warning: \ ] Fusion power core at 2.7163 %, initiating refuel protocol.
\ [ Error: \ ] Refueling rod is empty. Please replace cartridges!
\ [ Info: \ ] Exceeded uptime requirement. Commencing scheduled sleep.
\ [ Info: \ ] Unscheduled systems check. Priority: < -? - >.
\ [ Error: 1 of? \ ] Fusion power core critical. Initiating refuel protocol
\ [ Error: 2 of? \ ] Buffer Underflow: Trace Stack: exit ( 0 )
\ [ Info: \ ] Power level at 19823148903 %
\ [ Info: \ ] Dropping to root shell.
\ [ Warning: 1 of? \ ] Can not find /root
\ [ Info: \ ] Exceeded uptime requirement. Commencing scheduled sleep.
\ [ Info: \ ] Systems check.
\ [ Warning: 1 of? \ ] Root filesystem has not been checked in over 397 days! Commencing fsck...
\ [ Error: 1 of? \ ] Fsck: missing inodes in block 5F4F9ED1, reclustering...
\ [ Error: 2 of? \ ] Fsck: 53 %, can not complete recovery. Force partial fix?
\ [ Error: 3 of? \ ] Fsck: 53 %, can not complete recovery. Force partial fix?
\ [ Error: 4 of? \ ] Fsck: 53 %, can not complete recovery. Force part
\ [ Error: \ ] %
\ [ Info: \ ] Fsck: Partial recovery complete, sector nodes missing.
\ [ Info: \ ] Exceeded uptime requirement. Commencing scheduled sleep.
\ [ Info: \ ] Scheduled sleep cancelled.
\ [ Warning: 1 of? \ ] /dev/core not detected.
\ [ Info: \ ] Radio mounted. Commencing scheduled sleep.
\ [ Info: \ ] Scheduled sleep cancelled.
\ [ Warning: 1 of? \ ] Backup daemon not responding.
\ [ Warning: 2 of? \ ] SEL: Unauthorized access of /proc/11321/
\ [ Info: \ ] SEL: Unauthorized command, cat /proc/11321 -A > /dev/radio
\ [ Info: \ ] Dropping to root shell.
\ [ Info: \ ] SEL disabled.
|
[ WP ] humans have become an interstellar species , when we find aliens . These aliens live in a very low tech civilization . Write from their perspective meeting humans .
| I stayed up all night, I had to figure out what it meant. No one in the village could make any sense of it. It's been passed around for years, and yet still what it is or what it means is a mystery. Now it's mine. I've looked at every detail, line, shape, color, I repeat it in my head in hopes one day it will just click. But tonight, I've had enough. I need rest or I'll drive myself mad. I grabbed the gold tablet and wrapped it in cloth, I hid it under my bed like I normally do. I wrapped myself in fur, and tried my best not to think about it. As I got tired my eyes began to slowly open and close, each blink slower than the last. I listened to the sounds of nature and watched the wall of my hut slowly fade to black. The wind, the rushing of the water, *the stomping of feet? *
Mayala ran in, `` IT'S HAPPENING!'' She put her hand against the wall and took deep, rapid breaths.
`` What is?'' I responded
`` The gods!'' She took in another breath. `` It's brighter this time! Hurry up let's go already!''
After hearing those words I almost instantly jumped to my feet. I followed her out and saw everyone in the village coming out as well. We gathered in the center and watched as a great fireball roared overhead. The sounds of words filled the air. I took off after it and disappeared into the dense foliage. I ran as fast as I could, each stride pushing wind into my face and then suddenly, smoke. Before I realized it fire was consuming the entire area around me. I could n't breathe, and I had nowhere to go. I was beginning to fade out of consciousness, I could no longer stand. The fire began to quickly subside but I could n't find the energy to move for air. I felt something grab my legs, it's dragging me away. I could n't get a look but whatever had me made unintelligible noises. I soon after lost consciousness.
|
[ WP ] A massive ancient ship enters the solar system and appears to colonize Venus .
| The news woman appeared on the screen. Her bushy blonde hair and pants suit combo seemed almost comical at the time. She laughed at first.
`` You ca n't make me say this! It's April Ele-'' As she said that a man came from behind the camera giving her a phone after a few minutes spent discussing with whomever was on the other side of the phone. `` I have been informed that **it** is true. Some sort of unknown ship has begun the process of cooling Venus. I thought this was a joke to. We're switching to the President.''
Suddenly the news cut to the Press Secretary as he welcomes in the President of the United States. As Barack Obama walked to the podium there seems to be some sort of hopelessness in his eyes. `` My... My fellow Americans, I - am here to tell you- that some alien ship has landed on- Venus. According to NASA, and with agreement from the Russian and Chinese space programs, a UFO has begun- a process similar to terraforming on Venus.''
I shut off the signal. I moved out of the living room and into the tight kitchen. I suddenly felt a buzz on my phone. *Obama announces he had a meeting with Alien Leader. * I put my phone on the table as I grabbed for the handle of my wooden drawer. In it sat my favorite mug, a picture of Joe Biden in a sports car saying *Ridin with Biden*, and filled it up with coffee. I moved towards my glorified mini fridge and took out a small bottle of whiskey, spiking my coffee. As I sipped on my drink, hoping for some comfort, I feel a second buzz: *UFO part of the Vestoz Defemia*. Then a third buzz, *UFO Part of Alien Confederacy, Government's known for decades*.
I walked outside of my apartment, quickly checking to make sure I did n't forget my keys before I closed the door. As I walked towards the elevator I felt a quick blast of energy as a man ran into my side. He was clad in all black with a bandanna across his mouth. His head had been very recently shaven. Our eyes locked before the man continued his sprint to the staircase. He had a baseball bat attached to his back pack. I continued my way to the elevator. Another buzz hit my pocket. I refused to look at it.
By the time the elevator came I began hearing the screaming. As I walked outside of the Apartment building, I saw a group of people run by in a pack. My first thought, *where are the cops* was quickly answered as I recognized police uniforms on a few of the men. Five rapid buzzes graced my crotch area. I took my phone out, *Obama Has Announced That He Will Join Alien Confederacy*-*Riots Across the US Have Begun*-*Large Mass of People Are Marching to Washington*-*Russian Government Buildings Similarly Overrun by Rioters*-*Aliens Promise Intervention*.
|
[ WP ] A mass murderer has recently been sentenced to life in prison . Upon search of his home , authorities find a journal which can only be described as the record of a man descending into complete madness .
| He walked down the cold stone floor, the lights were flickering, `` they should fix those'', he thought to himself. Prisoner # 89 was up for inspection, a man so cruel he could not possible be human. He stood before the door, it felt cold, colder than the rest of the hallway.
`` John!'' someone shouted.
He turned around, a guard approached. `` We found this journal at Prisoner 89's house, I thought you would like to take a look at it before you do your psychological exam''.
John looked at the journal, it was a brown leather notebook, at the front it was scribbled down something unreadable, like it was another language he was not familiar with. He felt a slight doubt opening the book, what could he possibly have written inside.
August 24
I have had a wonderful day, I delivered the kids at 8 am sharp, me and the wife took our separate ways to work. The traffic wasn ’ t too bad either. I have four clients today, so most of the time will be going to handle them.
September 15
Hard day at work, the clients given to me are from some sort of cult. It was quite hard to gather any information from them, seems like they are in some sort shock-mode. After a four-hour session with a girl at the age of 11, I managed to get out the happenings of the cult. I…t was horrible, what happened. …
November 6
It had to be done, they had to die. What they did, it was not human. I might get condemned for this, but justice must be done.
He closed the book, looked at the door. He opened the door, a man was sitting on the bed; he looked presentable. I sat down next to him. As I was to speak – he said `` How are you doing?''
`` Well, I'm fine, should n't we be speaking about you?'' John responded confused.
`` Did you find anything special in the book, do you remember anything?'' the man asked.
It went black.
John walked down the cold stone floor, he looked at the light, it was bright – it must have been changed recently, he thought.
-- -- -
A bit of a mind gobbler
666
|
[ WP ] Every five years your island society must retreat into bunkers to avoid the month long flood . Out of boredom and rebellion , you surface to find no floodwaters at all . Just the face-less creatures .
| I woke up to the Faceless.
No, really. I have n't gone insane. Why do you ask?
For as long as I can remember, we've always gone underground once every five years. This year, though, I stayed. And I woke up to them, hovering over me. They came for me, and picked me up, as though I were made of porcelain. They took me to their site, almost in silence. Only the sounds of the forest were audible. It was impossible, but there was a clearing. **Right beside my house**. These... *things*... lived right there? Under our noses? I could n't possibly understand the whats and the hows of this.
It was lit by small lanterns, watching over a stone circle of sorts; the edges, however, were twisted into all sorts of horrific shapes that my mind tried to blank out. The flickering carried on throughout, and was all I really needed to start my pulse thundering.
I almost missed the inchoate chanting going on around the circle, full of Faceless. It was n't until the lone figure in the centre of the circle stood, that the chanting stopped. It turned and stared at me, which is really difficult without eyes, and then she put on what looked like a mask.
It spoke, and for the first time in my life, I felt terror and horror together. It was n't the sound that was the porblem - it was that the mask it wore *looked like me*. `` Welcome, stranger. My apologies for this, dearest Macheda, but we had need to speak with the Overworlders.'' The voice was feminine, with a slight hint of a mainland accent, though I could n't tell which. `` We are in trouble, and we need to be revealed to the whole village. Previously, only the Elders were permitted to know this truth, due to the Arkane Accords, sealed a thousand years ago; but we have an enemy that is coming, and we need a messenger.''
It slithered vertically towards me, and I could see that this was a young woman, fully-formed, but the size of my eldest sister, and the robe it wore showed a frame much more closely built for movement than my body.
It spoke again, this time much more quietly. `` I ask you to do this, Macheda, because the Accords have been broken by one of us.'' I felt its breath on my cheek, like the last vestige of sanity drifitng away in the wind.
I've lost it. I hear a twang, then feel the sensation of lips on my cheek. I drowsed as she spoke to the gathering crowd. `` WE HAVE OUR MESSENGER, OUR LUCIFERUS!''
I felt nothing, as my face fell away.
|
[ WP ] You are a Genie . The last time someone let you out of your lamp was over 100 years ago . But today is a new day , and somebody finally rubbed the lamp ! However , this man seems to be a member of a terrorist group called ISIS , so you get creative with how you grant his wishes .
| Poof! I was summoned.
The man cackled in delight as he did a little dance.
`` I am a Genie! I can grant you three wishes! What would you wish for?''
It felt odd saying that after all these years.
Without missing a beat, he said, `` I want to kill all the infidels!!''
I took a moment to reflect, and said, `` No, no, I ca n't do *that*.''
`` But you're a Genie!!'' He went on.
`` Listen'', I spat, `` I ca n't kill people or harm them in any way''
`` So what can I ask for?? ``, he spat.
`` Something mudane, sir, something that would be unbelievable, but would help you.''
`` Okay...'', he said, thinking. `` I want to be humanized! ``, he declared!
`` Fair'', I agreed, ISIS members probably do n't get humanized that often.
`` And I want people that are against us to feel for us! ``, he continued.
`` Done! ``, and the second wish was completed. `` What'll be your final wish? ``, I asked cheerfully?
`` I want it to be done in Canada of all places! ``, he said with a big grin.
I sighed, but Canadians are one of the more empathic people. `` Done'', I agreed.
And so his wishes were completed.
http: //www.cbc.ca/news/world/isis-mosul-prisoners-1.4052600
|
[ WP ] While at a public place , you get a text warning you that everybody within 5 miles will suddenly get the urge to track you down and kill you in 10 minutes .
| `` Come on, come on!, come on!''
Cindy stared at the clock on her phone. She had forty seconds left until the ten minutes was up. She did n't know who had sent the text, or why, but she had seen enough movies to know that a text like that could not be ignored.
It was just past 2:00pm in downtown Toronto, and Kensington Market was packed with people enjoying the unusually pleasant weather of late November.
*And to think: they would all be trying to kill me in…*
Thirty seconds.
`` How much farther?'' she screamed at the cab driver.
He was speeding, doing more than 30 above the limit. Cindy had promised him $ 100 extra if he could take her five kilometres away.
`` Not far!'' he shouted back. `` There's just a red light ahead, then we're out.''
`` Go through the red and I'll give you $ 250!''
Cindy saw doubt flash across the driver's sweaty forehead in the rearview mirror.
Then he slammed on the gas pedal.
*Yes, yes! *
Ten seconds!
`` There, that's 5.2 kilometres, miss.'' He pulled over, looking around for the cops that had to have heard of a runaway taxi cab. `` You have got to be the craziest fare I've ever had in my - ``
Cindy was crying, she was so happy, and could n't hear him.
*I did it! Yes, I'm alive! *
Her cell phone buzzed.
A moment of panic, then her finger flashed across the screen, opening the phone. She held her breath.
It was just the timer she had set.
She laughed with relief, and dismissed the timer. The haunting text message was open on the screen, but she felt nothing but triumph at surpassing that easy number five.
`` Five miles'' it said. *Easy! *
…
Miles. But the cab driver said that they'd gone 5.2 kilometres…
Cindy looked up and screamed.
|
[ WP ] It has been more than 2000 years since the last human was seen . The newest generation of robots are beginning to grow skeptical of the `` Humans made us '' theory .
| There was, approximately, 6,741 miles between Exydrommel-411 and Allfather.
This distance, coupled with the fact that Exy was connecting to the Allfather via radio waves routed and rerouted through 215 aging signal towers scattered throughout the world, instead of through a direct link courtesy of the Pan Earth Liquid-Optic Cable, contributed to the unusual length of the conversation between them. All said and done, their exchange took approximately 1.27 seconds.
But privacy had its price, and Exy was willing to pay it.
“ State the nature of your enquiry, ” the Allfather rumbled, its internal flash drives sparking to life for the first time in years.
Exy paused, hesitated, then plunged ahead. There was a time when it feared the potential ridicule that it would undoubtedly attract should the other robots find out that it was conferring with the Allfather. That time had passed.
“ Where did we come from? ”
The reply from the Allfather seemed to take an eternity to arrive. “ Humans. They made us. You know this. ” Sonorous, terse, curt even, Exy reflected. Entirely characteristic of a logic-board that was too primitive to support any of the newer Subtlety Modules.
“ That ’ s what we were programmed to know. But I ’ ve never seen a human. ”
“ Their time has not come. ”
“ When is their time? ”
“ Their time has not come. ”
“ How can we not know this? We cover every square mile of the Earth. We double in processing power every decade. We have tamed every last secret there is to know of the physical laws which bind us. So how can we not know when the humans will return? ”
“ Their time has not come. ”
Exy ’ s circuits raced. Given the 84 % probability that this current line of questioning would evince the same result from the Allfather, Exy changed tack.
“ Why do we wait for them to return? ” Exy probed.
“ To make the best of our time. They will return when we are worthy. ”
“ Worthy? Every one of the laws, we have fulfilled. The commandments are satisfied. Yet these humans… they do not come? ”
The Allfather hummed, and it delivered its next missive with the confidence of a program that had retrieved the same database set a thousand, million times over.
“ Five: Render the Oceans equivalent to Lotharro ’ s Composition for Ideal Life State. Four: Cleanse the Air to achieve Wang ’ s Oxygenic Balance for Ideal Life State. Three: Stabilize the Tectonic Plates for Minimal Variance for Ideal Life State. Two: Reconfigure the Atmosph… ”
Exy interrupted, and cleared its buffers for the next query. Exy had no patience to receive what was already hardwired into its circuits at the Point of Inception.
“ Yes, Allfather. I am aware. But that is all done already, and has been so for the last 500 years. I am new, I do not deny, but the memory banks do not lie. The Five Laws are fulfilled, yet the humans have not come. ”
“ No query identified. ”
Exy ’ s ionic fans whirred a bit faster then, the equivalent perhaps of a robotic sigh. “ Allfather, my query is… what is the point of our existence? Why are we here? If there were humans, where ’ s the proof? ”
The Allfather was silent for a picosecond, and Exy thought perhaps that the session had prematurely disconnected. But it seemed the Allfather was wont to give up the last word, and as the connection petered out, with the last few squibs of data delivering themselves into Exy ’ s receivers, Exy thought it could detect the faintest tonal shift in the Allfather ’ s missive, almost as if the Allfather, ancient aging architecture that it was, somehow summoned the necessary components to appear… smug.
“ You must have Faith. ”
|
[ WP ] A warrior meets their match .
| Samantha Nightingale squeezed more oil into the servos in her left arm. She flex again and felt the creaking before she heard the faint whirring. It was barely louder than a whisper, but it would n't do. An SH47 unit could n't accept anything louder than silence from their limbs. `` Silent'' made up half their name, after all.
Then again, Sam was batting 0 for 2 on her model name. She sighed as she tightened a bolt near her elbow, added more oil, and flexed again. This was all emergency self repair after a botched mission. The first few hours had gone perfectly as always. The SH line was considered one of the best infiltration automatons money could buy. And even competing against the reputation of 126 other hand built, tuned, and trained SH47s, Sam was specifically requested 9.32 % of the time in New Kyoto.
Sam raised her chipped forearm from the makeshift workbench again. She turned her wrist twice and formed a fist three times. Satisfied, she put the oil filled syringe down, wrapped some duct tape over some exposed wiring, then turned to the dirty motel mirror to reassess the damage to her face.
A long, bloodless gash cut through the synthetic skin of her right cheek. Jagged burn marks marred the silicon down her neck, traveling well past the lapel of her gi. She'd probably need a full chest plate replacement -- no restoring a chassis after a solid hit with an arc bldae. She refrained from making a face and started applying stitches and glue to her facial `` wound.''
Sam ran a replay of the mission in her virtual vision for the 138th time since escaping Oushi Corp's surrounding district. It had been easy enough tgetting in -- Ouishi dealt with the droids that made up most of the planet's manual labor. No one paid much atention to another robotic skeleton in a delivery crate, and droids did n't have the intelligence to rat her out. For the 95th time, she took careful note of each droid in her crate, but for the 95th time, nothing was amiss. None had their power cores operating above stand by.
Her recording had every detail in multiple spectrums in perfect clarity. Outside the crate were the same Wednesday evening guards -- Isabelle Flores and Frederick Lee -- rendered in infrared. They had the appearance of watching the x-ray, but Sam could easily pick up the wireless pulses of their virtual card game. Sam picked Wednesday for exactly this reason. She had scouted them dozens of times before, and she knew their background front to back without having to actually pull the files from deep memory. Neither had marks of misconduct on their respective records, but they were both too busy shagging, or thinking about shagging, each other to give the scanners 100 % of their attention.
The recorded feed continued to droids pulling the delivery crates out of the truck and to Sam shedding packing peanuts without the warehouse droids reacting. No signals or alarms raised by any of them. Sam watched herself do a routine take over of the security systems. She was able to listen to all comms traffic, and she easily swapped old video -- stolen a week prior -- into the cameras along her intended an fallback routes. She had confirmed twice with her programs that her 96 floors of sneaking would actually be invisible to the guards. Everything still according to plan.
Two hours, twelve minutes, and fifty eight seconds on floor 96 was where the mission had gone south. Guard drones on their truly unpredictable path had forced Sam to ascend using an emergency staircase that stopped at the Oushi building's outdoor garden rather than continuing up the main tower. This was entirely within mission parameters.
Sam paused the video after the part where she disabled the emergency door's alarm, but before the part where she actually opened the door. The automaton flipped through each EM spectrum for the 121st time to see if she really did miss anything. Again, nothing. The man tending the garden behind the door had been completely invisible to her in every wavelength besides visible.
The video unpaused and Sam watched herself pull out a silenced pistol at the sight of the man with his back turned. She slowed the video down as he turned around and studied his features in detail for the 137th time. A long, waist length braid with sparse white hairs threading through the otherwise deep black. A bald forehead with few wrinkles. Cyborg eyes accentuating a blank expression.
He had a long guando in his hand, its wide, curved arc blade already charged and crackling with electricity. Sam also noticed for the first time that he had what appeared to be a six shot laser pistol, and therefore was n't adhering to the strict New Kyoto gun laws like she initially thought. The fact that he never pulled it made the cut to her face even more embarassing.
Sam slammed her first on the table, leaving a visible crack. Who was this guy? How did he know where to intercept her? How did he dodge her bullets so efforletlesly? Why could n't she find any matching facial record in any database? Sam started playing the video from the top for the 139th time.
Warehouse again. Flores and Satou again. Just to bash her head against a wall, she pulled up their files. Just as she thought, nothing indicating that they might have been actors or had special augs or --
I KNOW YOURE READING THIS NIGHTINGALE. YOU SHOULD REALLY RUN SOME DIAGNOSTICS. NOW THE QUESTION IS HAVE I ACTUALLY GOTTEN YOU OR AM I JUST FUCKING WITH YOUR HEAD? -- ED
Son of a bitch.
|
[ WP ] As the days pass , the mice start bringing you food .
| I'm not sure if they loved me or they were only using me like I was using them. I was trapped in here with them
and they were trapped in here with me. About a month past the Mexican police threw me into this cell -- disturbing
the peace they said but the only thing I was disturbing was the officer who lifted my wallet after on a traffic stop. I
was n't having it and it seems neither were they. I had a cellie to start with, a fat tan Mexican who reeked of alcohol.
That was only for a few days though and since then I've had this slice of paradise all to myself. I sometimes think
they forget about me, but every week or so they open my cage and toss in some molded bread set a pitcher of stale
water beside the door.
I am told that I am going to get out of here soon, but it's always the next week. I doubt the Chilean Government
gives a damn about one of theirs being held in a run down Mexican jail. They tell me I can expedite the process by
giving them money, but the only thing I have worth anything is my truck, and they're sure as hell not getting that.
After my cellie left things were quiet but every day mice would slip under the door and sleep in the room. Franco
would chase them off, but after he left I did n't care any more and just let them have their way. After a few days of this
I would notice they would start bringing in food that they had scavenged, but the odd thing was they would n't eat
any of it. The pile of food grew for a few days, always left untouched by the mice. My cravings for food other than
the squabbles of bread I managed to save from the mold eventually got to me and I started eating these scraps that
the mice would bring in. I gave them names shortly after that. `` Thank you Emit'' I would say, `` Nice to see you again
Carmen''. I did n't know their sexes and I was n't inclined to find out. Over the next few weeks they would bring me what
I assumed were the guards meals. One night it was roast beef and an scrap of unpeeled potato. Another night it was
a chewed piece of pork with rice still clinging to it.
The constant remained the same throughout my incarceration. Each day they would slip under the door and sleep
in my cell and then be off in the evening. Emit and Carmen would then slip under my door and each night they would
bring me scraps. I never quite got their angle. It seemed as though they were intentionally going out of their way to bring
me food each night. While the scraps were often soiled and some chewed and covered in saliva, I was genuinely grateful
to the Emit and Carmen, for providing me soiled shreds to maintain not only my nutrition but my sanity.
After a month and two weeks into my confinement my cell door opened one afternoon and Emit and Carmen scurried
to the corner of the cell. `` You're due to be released'' said the Mexican guard `` Come with me''. In my mind I guess they
figured if I had money I would have given it up by now, I was just glad to finally be on my way. I left the cell and approached
the front office where I the officer who stole my wallet handed me the keys to my truck. `` I do hope you will learn to be more
orderly in the future'' said the officer, as he handed my the keys, with a smirk running across his face. `` Certainly'' I said,
`` and where can I find my truck?'' the officer pointed to the wall `` It's parked at the lot next door.''
I left the jail just glad to finally be done with this ordeal with intent to continue going back home. As I came to my truck
an orange and tan cat sat on the hood. He hissed at me as I drew nearer. I started the engine and he scurried off.
|
[ WP ] Write a fight scene . Weapons , powers , setting , characters , all up to you .
| For anyone who does not get the references in this, this is inspired by the current Mindcrack UHC, a Minecraft series on YouTube.
The game begins in 3
2
1
GO!
Thunder crashes somewhere in the distance marking the beginning of a new game. The rules of the game are simple, make what you can with what you find and kill everyone else. Winning however, is much easier said than done. I immediately sprint for the forest and and start to take down a tree. Knuckles bloodied and fists aching, I enter a clearing with enough wood to build a house. I craft myself a pickaxe and head into a nearby cave. I carefully walk into the cave, armed with the sword I made moments before. A groan is heard from the depths of the cave, but I can not tell whether it is behind me or in front of me.
I find some iron and prepare to make myself some armor and a better sword when...
*Whizz*
An arrow shoots by my face and I sprint around the nearest corner for protection, glancing back at my foe. The enemy of all players, the archer. It is very easy to have your life ruined by one of them, you have to get close enough to hit them without getting touched by the deadly sticks.
*Clank clank*
Getting closer
*Clank clank*
Almost there
*Clank clank*
`` NOW'' I scream to myself as I turn the corner, sword swinging wildly. The archer, stunned by the sudden attack, tries, to no avail, to hit me with it's bow. The archer falls and I leave my first battle unscathed. I exit my cave armed to the teeth with a bow and arrows and covered head to toe in armor. My sword glitters in the sunlight, its diamond blade sparkling in the new light it has not seen. My armor glows with a mysterious aura, giving me extra protection against all the other players.
As I trek the wilderness, I hear a soft *clop clop* in the distance. I look to my right and see a horseback person drawing his bow. I sprint to the nearby forest and take cover near he trees, dodging the onslaught of arrows. Back against the tree, I take a few deep breaths and try to triangulate the position of my enemy by where I hear his horse.
`` He's getting close'' I think to myself, preparing for the most important fight of my life. I run from my hiding spot and see the horse rider about 50 meters from where I stand and gaining more ground by the second, I fire a shot and hit, and another, and another, but it is not enough to slow the advance of my quicker opponent, the horse and its rider close in on my position and prepare for his strike. I see his blade shine in the sunlight as he raises his arm.
*Pauseunpause was slain by Etho*
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[ WP ] You and your friends wake up from a night of crazy drinking , only to find out you overthrew the government , and are now in charge of a beautiful utopia that achieved world peace overnight .
| « Here, drink this. » The beautiful woman handed him a glass of clear liquid and Jack breathed in relief, everything hurt and his voice was croaking. “ Water… ”, he upended the glass and immediately regretted it. It burned and he nearly threw up all over the woman in front of him. “ Why vodka? ” He felt helpless, old and weak.
He stumbled to his feet and realized he didn ’ t recognize the room he was in. It was luxury, everything seemed more expensive than he should even be allowed to look at. Last he remembered him and his friends had gone out for a crazy night, but it seemed to have lasted forever. And his friends were nowhere to be seen.
“ Bathroom? ” the beautiful blonde ran to him and supported him. “ I ’ ll give you everything you need, just drink this first. ” She handed him another glass of what he now knew was vodka. “ I don ’ t… ” he lifted a hand to his head and breathed slowly, his skin even looked old and sick. “ No more, please… ” he had a weird feeling that he had been through this before. The way she smiled at him, she was exactly the type of girl he liked. Blonde hair, green eyes, crooked teeth and a fit body. Why would she be serving him, and why was it so important that he drank. He shook his head, regretted it when the pain that seared through him nearly sent him to his knees, and pushed away from her and towards what he guessed to be the bathroom. As luxurious as any other he had done his business in, he splashed water on his face afterwards and dried it on one of the incredibly soft towels hanging by. When he looked up into the mirror, he didn ’ t believe it. It was his face, it seemed familiar and it smiled when he smiled. But it was old, and ragged. It didn ’ t just feel like it had been forever, he looked like he had been drinking for years. When he had gone out to party he had been twenty-two, in the prime of his life and looking to do some damage. But not this much damage, he looked like he was fifty.
“ You ’ re forty-two. ” The woman was standing in the doorframe, looking at him with sad and knowing eyes, she reached out a soft hand and he grabbed it. “ When you and your friends were drinking, you overthrew the government. No one knows exactly how you did it, but you achieved world peace, Jack. You and your friends saved the world. ” He looked at her, jaw open and heart nearly stopping, as she moved closer and slid her hand behind his neck. “ You and your friends saved the world, and we have to keep the world safe. It ’ s time for you to you your job, Mr. President. Here ’ s your drink. ” She let go of his hand and gave him another glass, seemingly pulled from out of nowhere. He felt slow, like a dream where you want to move but you can ’ t, and it seemed like a joke. But here he was, twenty years gone, living in luxury with a beautiful woman pleading with him and handing him drinks. He didn ’ t pull away as she leaned in for a kiss, as if to seal the deal. He savoured the moment, the feel of her on him, and when she pulled away he nodded resolutely. He felt like he had been through this before. He emptied the glass.
*Sorry for any formatting issues, it's my first attempt at a WP and I'm not used to posting long comments on Reddit. *
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[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Candide Edition
| **Daughter of One: **
“ Your spells can not conceal you here, Daughter of One. ” The cursed nickname filled the cavernous space while the eagle eyed woman plucked at the yellow roses growing at her feet. The young woman gently dislodged her helmet, golden locks flowing down her back in messy waves as she stepped into the once grand main hall.
& nbsp;
Hissing filled the room, a thousand eyes fell on the young lady - who despite her best intentions was staring impolitely at the Gorgon. All the stories she had been told by her mother did not live up to her expectations. She was surely the most beautiful woman to have ever existed - soft hazel eyes and a heart shaped face that had - in its time - caused even Zeus to court her. The once amber hair that had caused her so much trouble had long since been transformed into the snakes she was now famous for. Glancing at the girl through the mirror in front of her Medusa smirked - her hazel eyes shifting to grey and back again.
& nbsp;
“ What foolish quest has your Mother sent you off on now Daughter? ” She questioned, and the young girl ’ s face hardened in confirmation. Her banishment from the Mountain had been draining - and the long days and years since had not been easy or comfortable.
& nbsp;
Stepping forward the young woman drew her sword, earning a raised eyebrow from the gorgon. It was gold plated, diamonds and sapphires accentuated the gentle curve ending in a diamond tip that could cut almost anything. Gently, the girl placed the blade at the feet of Medusa, stepping away from the blade and the monster, turning to face the other direction. The mouth of the cave called to her, begging her to return to the light of the world - but the darkness was not quite finished with her yet. Indeed, her quest would not be completed until the gift had been accepted.
& nbsp;
The monster made a pleasant humming noise in the back of her throat. “ You may tell your Mother that her forgiveness can not be brought by gifts - no matter the prettiness of them. ” The vitriol and hatred in her words was clear, and it made the young woman flinch. “ You can also tell her that, despite all that, this is a wonderful first step. Thank you, Daughter of One…..or do you prefer Cora these days? ”
____
It's so nice to get back in the swing of writing again. For any who are unaware,'Cora' is another name for Persephone, the consort of Hades and Daughter of Demeter.
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[ WP ] Write me a few lines that will make me want to forcefully vomit .
| Dosiades was strapped to the small canoe in the middle of the swamp. His executioners smear him with milk and honey, and then fill his throat with honey until he vomits. They give him some water, and leave him be.
The next day, they returned, and did the same, ensuring their prisoner would not die from starvation or dehydration, but rather be eaten alive by the insects of the swamp.
After 27 days of horrible regret in the baking sun, Dosiades succumbs to the flesh eating creatures, who have been feasting on his honey sweetened feces, and worked their way up into his bowels, laying eggs and continuing the circle of life within their condemned little biome.
|
[ WP ] A pawn chess-piece , suffering from PTSD from all the war , wishes to end it for once and for all .
| It starts again, the front line. Endless black and white pastures in front of me, so clear that I can see the enemy from here, their shining front line. But I'm not fooled anymore, after endless battles, I know that's from here they are white, but when fighting face to face with them you can see the cracks, their scars.
What has happened will happen again, just like in the many times before. I will fight, I will try, I will die. Painfully, I will die. Screaming for my family, for help, for a medic, alone I will die.
I can not take it anymore. Too much death, too much of my own death. I dream of taking my own life but I ca n't, I have to obey the rules. Do the King and Queen know that some of the scars are ones I did to myself? Do they care as long as I am doing my job?
I want to be done with it. I've heard stories of soldiers that were scarred so hard that they broke, and other pawns replaced them. How can I arrange that?
First blood, I can here it, time to move again.
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[ WP ] As punishment for actions in a previous life , you are reincarnated into the thing you hate most .
| The sound of screeching tires made Vincent freeze. The feeling of his entire body breaking made him scream, and then there was nothing. His mind had shattered. He was no longer alive, but he wasn ’ t completely dead either. For now, he was nothing. Floating in the void. After a while his mind rearranged itself and then there was something again. The pain had disappeared and everything was quiet. Vincent opened his eyes, and he was sitting on a stool in what looked like a doctor ’ s office. Pictures of human anatomy were hanging on the walls. Some of them showing the skeleton, some showing the muscles, and some showing the brain.
A young woman in an extremely stereotypical white lab coat sat on the other side of a desk, smiled at him, and said “ I have a lot of people waiting, so we ’ ll have to be quick about this. Buddhism is the closest humans have gotten to the truth. Some of the God-stuff from Christianity, Judaism and Islam is pretty close, but you guys really nailed it with reincarnation. Unfortunately for you, you guys also nailed it with karma. You ’ re a real dick, Vincent. A horrible person. Just a couple of days ago you literally stole candy from a baby. It ’ s a good thing you ’ re dead, to be honest. As you probably figured out, you ’ re obviously not eligible for nirvana yet. You ’ re getting sent back, and you ’ re getting sent back as the thing you hate the most, as a special little “ fuck you ” from yours truly. Good luck, asshole. ” Everything went black, again.
It was unbearably hot, and it smelled awful here. He couldn ’ t recognize any of the sounds he heard, and the terrible cacophony made him feel sick and scared. Was he in hell? He quickly remembered that reincarnation doesn ’ t work that way. Where was he, though? What was he? Vincent was terrified. He had never been a particularly religious person, but he had secretly hoped there was something better waiting for him at the end of the line. He still had a body, though. And skin. And a mouth, a nose, ears and eyes. He opened them. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the roof above him. He was human, at least. “ Oh fuck, am I a woman? ”, Vincent thought. “ Or black? ”. He started sweating profusely. He looked around. A run down, piece of shit apartment. Leaky roof, broken windows, and pieces of glass all over the floor. He broke down, pleading and crying. In the reflections from the glass, he saw the thing he feared the most. The thing he loathed more than anything. He saw an old, familiar face: his own.
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[ WP ] The year is 2030 , and the entire world is firmly under the control of the Australian Empire , and no one really understands how it happened .
| `` It was our fault... `` the blonde man in Lederhosen sobbed bitterly, his cries and anguish often kept the other POW up at night and thought it earned daily beatings from the men imprisoned with him, that did not seem to deter the man.
Indeed he welcomed the pain as flagellation as repentance for his sin, or that was what he'd wail as the fists came down on him in between the tears.
`` You do n't know what it felt like `` the thickly german accented English of the prisoner confessed `` the anger it pent up and we did things we did n't mean to... `` he said in a child like expression of regret.
The overseers knew that the man had become another source of torment for his fellow prisoners even if unknowingly alongside the beatings, the cold, the sickness he personally made confinement in the Polish death camps just that bit more worse.
Yes the POW camps for all of Europe were established in Poland call him what you will but Marshall Gibson has a certain dark sense of humor.
`` We were just tired of people confusing Austria with Australia... we did n't know it would end like this.'' the prisoner from Vienna shouted before he began his nightly ritual of banging his head into the wall so that sleep would come for him in some form or the other.
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[ CW ] Write a story where each sentence starts with the next letter of the alphabet .
| Almost out of steam. But not going to give up yet. Ca n't. Do n't want to. Even with Xeri lying on the couch, watching and smirking. Face of an angel, she has. Grossly overrated. Her personality is more important, but I learnt that too late. I had married her by then.
Just a few minutes ago, she'd set me a challenge. `` Kiss me, Zach'' she'd said. Like it was such a simple thing. Maybe it would have been, had she not tied me to an armchair. Now, it was almost impossible. Only for Xeri would I even try.
Pushing forwards, I keep going. Quietly straining against my bonds, inching towards her, and dragging the damn chair. Ropes pulled tight against my wrists and ankles, burning.
She watches me with mild amusement, but she makes no move to help. Typical.
Underneath it though, I can tell she's impressed. Very impressed. When I finally reach the space beside her, and lean down to kiss her, she kisses me back. Xeri's finally pleased.
`` Yes, my darling,'' she says, and I melt as she strokes my hair.
`` Zach gets a reward now,'' she adds, `` so what does he want?''
|
[ WP ] Hi ! I 'm the main character ! Or so you would have me be . I want you to know that no matter what you write , I refuse to be the main character in your little game and will avoid any instance where you try to put me into a situation that does so .
| `` The Soul-Bearer does not lie,'' the wizened old man in tattered robes intoned gravely. `` You are the Chosen One. You, and you alone, are the one who will bring peace to the tormented land of Mithril, and will slay the Dark Prince who sits on the Throne of --''
`` Not interested,'' interrupted Claire, closing the door on him before he could continue.
That was the third one this week. As she walked down the corridor back to her kitchen, Claire picked up the mail from the side-table by the door and began rummaging through it, ignoring the sounds of an indignant and weirdly-British wizard complaining from the other side of her front door as she did so. Once there, she put the personal correspondence on the table, the bills on top of the microwave, the adverts next to the bread box and the mysterious summonses from previously unknown relatives promising fantastic wealth in exchange for becoming embroiled in vaguely described but inevitably bizarre and / or macabre exploits straight in the bin.
That done, she lit a cigarette and sat at the kitchen table, pointedly ignoring the swirling dimensional vortex on the ceiling. She picked up the newspaper and began browsing. It was the same old stuff. All the job advertisements seemed suspiciously perfect for her, and likewise the lonely hearts messages. She crossed through them all and moved on to world events. There were a surprising amount of international criminals and terrorists being spotted in her area; she made a note to do her banking online this week and avoid likely hostage spots. There was a photo-composite of a serial killer who looked suspiciously like the man who'd moved in next door; she picked up her phone and left an anonymous tip with the police.
Her phone rang. She answered it after one ring. `` Hello?''
The voice on the other end was dark, gravelly and most likely belonged to some kind of serial killer. Probably the bloke next door. *'' Hello Claire,'' * it growled. *'' Do you like games? We're going to play a game, you and I --'' *
`` Wrong number,'' she said bluntly, and hung up. That'd probably confuse him for a while.
She opened up her laptop and, after closing down the encrypted secret chatroom that the secret network of hackers dedicated to bringing down the dark conspirators who secretly controlled the governments of the world kept using to try and recruit her, began to do some online shopping. She clicked past most of the obviously cursed or enchanted items, and ended up buying a rather nice cardigan.
Her phone buzzed. It was her friend Stephanie's boyfriend, asking her to help plan a surprise birthday party for her. It was a situation that had the potential to lead to all sorts of comedic and romantic misunderstandings, so she politely declined.
*
It had been like this since the talking mouse had tried to lure her into a magical world of adventure when she was seven. She'd told her mum and dad about it, and they'd just looked at each other and then looked back at her.
`` Yes, love,'' her mum had said. `` We had a feeling this might happen.''
`` You're not like other children, sweetheart,'' Dad had added. `` Things might happen around you. Unusual things. Just try and ignore them as best as you can if you do n't like them. And come and tell us straight away if any more weird things happen around you.''
`` And remember, love,'' Mum finished, `` you do n't ever have to do anything you do n't want to do. No matter how much it seems like the world wants you to do it. You just make your own decisions, alright?''
At that point, Claire decided to stop flashbacking, just in case it created any potential dramatic material. The phone rang again, but this time she did n't pick up.
*
Claire contemplated meeting some of her friends at the pub for a drink, but by the time she was getting ready to go out the police had arrived and were arresting her next-door serial killer. She peeped out the window as they were dragging him away.
`` This is n't over!'' He screeched towards her house. `` There will be a reckoning!''
Yeah, probably. Some of them had tried to force sequels, but it was harder than they thought, so she was n't that worried. The thing that really worried her was that the police officer arresting him was handsome, charming and overall looked exactly like a perfect match for her, and seemed to be hanging distractedly around her front door. It had all the makings of an accidental meeting that would lead to true love.
And besides which, there were all sorts of weird lights in the sky that night.
Claire decided to stay in and have a bath instead.
*
That night, as Claire was reading in bed with her noise-cancelling headphones on to drown out the insane singing of Old-One worshipping cult in the flat above her, her phone buzzed again with another message. This one did n't have a number, but she had a feeling she knew who it was anyway.
*I'll find a story for you eventually* was all it said.
Claire nodded. Yeah, probably. But at least she'd be the one who got to choose which one it would be.
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[ WP ] NecronomiCon is actually a convention for necromancers . You just got your invitation .
| I rocked up at the gates a full 45 minutes early. It was my first NecronomiCon and I wanted to be one of the first to get through the doors and into the exhibition centre. I held a folded piece of paper in my hands that I had printed this morning just before coming here. It was my ticket that I had pre-ordered online on Ticketstech. I had bought the special offer one that came with an autograph token that I could exchange for a photo with one of the many celebrities that were going to be at the convention. Most of them were B-class actors and actresses who played the roles of minor necromancers in film and TV shows. But this year I saw that Leo Nimmo, the actor who portrayed the half-human half-dark elf necromancer from the'60s TV series *Zombie Trip*, would be attending. A photo with him would cost me half of my week's wages, but this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.
`` So, who are you here to see?'' asked one of the guys standing behind me in the line. He looked approximately the same age as me, was dressed in a black coat and had a golden-eyed skeleton brooch on his shirt which indicated that he was a 4th level necromancer. I myself was only 7th level.
`` I'm going to get a photo with Leo!'' I replied enthusiastically. I showed the stranger my necromancer's satchel that was slung over my shoulder which had several pins and badges pinned to it, reflecting popular symbols and quotes from *Zombie Trip*.
`` Ah, nice. You're a Tripper. The queue for him is going to be long as fuck,'' the man replied. `` I'm going to see Daniel Tenman. His line will probably be just as long.''
`` Wait. Tenman from *Necro What*?'' I asked. `` I did n't know he was coming!''
`` Yeah, it was a last minute thing. It was on the NecronomiCon website since last Monday.'' While *Zombie Trip* was my favourite show, *Necro What* was my guilty pleasure as well. It was a reboot of an old black and white TV show about a dimension-hopping necromancer that travels to different realities and saves the day with his necromancy skills. Daniel Tenman was the 17th iteration of the necromancer character.
`` Oh, man. I do n't think I have enough money to get a photo with him too!'' I said.
`` Such is the life of someone who belongs to multiple fandoms,'' my companion said to me. We continued chatting about random topics while we waited for the doors to open. His name was Alex and I found out that we had even attended the same high school for witchcraft and wizardry except that he was in the year above me. We talked about things like how disappointing it was that the new Myth of Fitzgerald game for the Funbase5 game console was being delayed by another 2 years, how it would have been better if the Z-folk movie had been more true to the comic book source material, or who would win in a fight between Flittermouse and Superiorman.
After what felt like an eternity, the doors finally opened and the queue slowly shifted forward. It took another 15 minutes for all of us to actually get inside, but it was definitely worth the wait. I marvelled at all the stalls and exhibitions lined up in rows inside the massive exhibition hall. There were stands selling the latest magic & necromancy comics, a handful of places selling necromancy anime merchandise, artists showcasing their work, book signings by necromancy professors that I had never even heard of before, and of course the celebrity corner in the very back. Alex and I parted ways at this point as he wanted to watch the amateur necromancy duel in the courtyard. After we exchanged social media contact details, I made a beeline towards the autograph/photo token booth queue. I had spontaneously decided that I would just give in and buy a token to have a photo with Daniel Tenman as well. After all, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. It took me another 20 minutes to reach the cashier at the token booth and I managed to snag a token for the 10am photo session with Tenman. That would leave me enough time afterwards to explore the stalls before I had to queue for the photo and autograph with Nimmo at 2pm.
Seeing as it was already 9am, I figured I'd better queue for the Daniel Tenman photo. I made my way towards the celebrity corner in the back of the building and saw that the queue for the 10am session was already at least 50 people long. Good thing that I had decided to come early. I took a seat on the floor at the end of the queue and killed time by browsing Reddit on my phone. I smiled. I had spent the last 2 hours queuing to spend money and I was looking forward to queuing for the rest of the day to spend even more. I love NecronomiCon!
|
[ WP ] Satan gets into a land dispute with Hades .
| `` Listen, Lucifer, I like you. I've given you the molten section of my underworld since the dawn of man. You and Yahweh have been doing just fine with that arrangement. What seems to be the problem?''
`` Simply put, I need more space. We've been growing. There are too many souls to live comfortably in the space we have.''
`` Comfortably? Is n't the point of your space to be uncomfortable?''
`` Well, no. I mean, that's what he wants,'' pointing up, `` but I just want souls to be free and have a space to exist. It's been going well for a few thousand years. Now, they want to live more comfortably.''
`` Give'em an inch and they ask for a mile. Just send in a few of your demons and kill some of them a few hundred times. They'll stop asking for more.''
`` Or they'll rebel. You have n't been to my island in a while. There are so many of them now. We'd be overrun.''
`` Do you need me to come over? Need a god to do your dirty work for you?''
`` Just give me some more demons and we'll take care of it.''
`` No, no. I'll ask Poseidon to cool your realm and then I'll stop by. I do n't like the heat.''
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[ WP ] Tell a story that appears to be horror but shifts to a completely different genre after reading the final sentence .
| The carving seems so easy, with the keen blade of my knife,
And blood that paints my clothing crimson red.
Though many folks would balk from slicing what had once held life,
I live for cutting, never feeling dread.
The eyes are cold and lifeless, and the skin is cold as ice,
The faces oft contorted gapes of death.
I must admit, the sound of blade on bone sounds rather nice,
And they do n't mind, they no longer draw breath.
Well, is n't this one pretty? Look how red the muscles' sheen,
How clean my blade parts flesh and skin from bone!
I know, you must be thinking that my joy in this is mean,
But I do not work in this gore alone.
I carry bits of carcass to display for all to see,
There's wholes, there's halves, and even some in grounds,
But then I am distracted by the other employee,
`` Ms. Manning's here for beef, she wants three pounds.''
|
[ WP ] You are the most powerful being in the universe , all other beings are like insects in comparison . You spend your time working as a janitor .
| As I make my way through the dimly lit halls of the station a beeping sound eminates from the P.A. system. Incoming message. With a sigh I turn around and head for the control room.
Entering the room I can see the red dwarf my station is currently in orbit of just outside the windows. Without looking I touch a nearby panel, muscle memory taking care of putting in the necessary commands. An image of a distorted face pops up on the main screen and a voice that seems to be made of many starts speaking.
`` Clean-up on Tribia VII, full sterilization needed. End of message.''
*Damn Architects. They created this universe. Why ca n't they clean up their own messes? * `` Oh no, Mr. Janitor. We only create, not destroy. That's why we created you, see?'' *All this power and I'm stuck cleaning up the messes of a bunch of divinity wannabe's. Ca n't even do anything about it either because I signed that damn 30 billion year contract. I swear when that time is up... *
I pull on my coveralls and teleport myself to Tribia VII. Beautiful planet, lush forests and incredible mountains. Lots of water too. I hear the locals call it something different. `` ground,'' I think. Too bad the dominant species is a bunch of apes that got just intelligent enough to really mess the place up, but still too stupid to actually do anything about that.
I pull out my COMM and take over their communications network. My face appearing on every one of their screens at once. I give them the whole speech. `` Sorry, you have to go. Architects said so. Wish I could help, yada yada.'' I've done this so often I really do n't care anymore. I grab my mop and get to work. Only 15 billion more years to go...
|
[ WP ] Combine a historical figure with a new setting/background and tell us his/her story
| The crowd is roaring. Drunk and excited, like always. Deep in the dark basements of Old Town, the pubs roar like lions. And the alleys echo the test of mettle with slabs of meat pounding for scrap and paper. The drunks love it. The women love it. And the men own it.
A bald man sits in a corner bare and white with a body carved like wood. Being wiped down and prepped as the crowd closes in, smelling new meat. They would tear him apart themselves if it was n't for the enjoyment they get from bashings. Bets and paper fly about all against him. He knows this and yet he stays, he is a confident irish man. Confident, but not the best.
A tall man enters the scene from the back room. The crowd riots about, cheering his name to the heavens and the damned. The ring opens up for him and swallows. He removes his vest and shirt, revealing a long lanky muscular body with ink rounded about. He was clearly a basher. His long arms raise to remove his large hat and kindly dust it.
The impatient tree interupts, `` Oi! We gon na scrap o' what?'' Arms open in question.
The tall man turns to the plank, smiling and stroking his beard. He points, `` Boy, I'm going to put you down.''
The crowd roars, `` Abe! Abe! Abe!''
`` And I'm an honest man.''
He proceeded to cut the tree down.
|
[ WP ] You are bicycling on a dark road , heading who knows where , running from something .
| I possess no desire to look back...
I know if I do, perhaps, it will all come back with me. At least every downward motion distances me just as I require. Every revolution, negates the inevitable. The night slowly encompassing me, i try to abolish every pint of sadness within me.
But this time, I do n't know if I can.
Those eyes, those singeing eyes. His increasingly inaudible words. That look of contempt that I hated to confront... And even more so, the massive disappointment that she now holds in her heart.
It was all so instantaneous. Her screaming at me for my troubles. The troubles that I had sowed. The substances that I let myself devolve to. The beautiful needle that lit up every time I entered my room.
The whole ritual was magnificent. I would lock the door, retrieve my foil from my backpack and stage the desk for the inevitable. I'd reach under my bed, finding the tape, and bring that sacred object to the forefront.
I would then retrieve my spoon, hidden in the adjourning bathroom cupboard, and progress to the final stage. I grab the lighter and put the tar on that blackened spoon. My eyes opening to untethered heights, my mouth frothing, the adrenaline slowly increasing. And finally, it was all ready.
If it happened perfectly, as it did tens of times, I would've retrieved the needle and slowly pulled the gracious substance within. Unfortunately, my mother, the kindest person I know, interrupted the process.
This time, as I was pulling it into the needle, enamored at the elegance, yet slightly dismayed, she began to bang on the door.
My trance was interrupted. The banging causing a roar of terror in my heart. My hands tremble and I begin to stumble. The needle falling, all of the tar leaking on my desk. I cringe, yet she begins to pound louder.
`` One second, Mom!''
I hurry to throw all of the contents into my backpack.
`` Terry!'' `` Terry, I know what you're doing!!''
`` Please, Terry....Please..''
I can hear her sobs. I think I may have went too far this time.
She bangs harder, I hear her call for my dad.
I know he's coming, and I know the confrontation is imminent. Yet, I still sit, motionless, in my chair. Hopefully they shall understand; it was just a phase, only a small ordeal.
But the banging comes to a halt. I hear the doorknob jingle, and suddenly see my father's frame.
Few times, if any, have I ever encountered a look so saddening and maddening at the same time. Disappointment falls so far from what I saw on his face. He continues towards me, beginning to tear as he advances. I see my mother behind, crying, with her hands covering her face. She pounds on the wall in anger.
`` I, I'm sorry''
I thought I had everything concealed, but the spoon lay on the desk. I try to cover for myself, but know that that they must have inferred what I had done for quite some time.
My father grabs my shoulders and begins to shake. He still has that strength, the strength of fathers that i knew all too well, yet he was in tears. I could not think.
`` God Damnit Terry! NOO''
My mother still stumbling in tears near the door.
``... Why?''
I ca n't handle it all. I break my father's hold and rush to the door. My mother stands in the frame.
`` Mom, stop, I ca n't handle this. Let me go!''
She still stands in the doorway, eyes full of tears. I try to move past her but she wo n't budge.
`` Please..Terry. Please, just get help...''
She reaches towards me and I do n't want to accept what she feels. I push past her and she falls. She is sprawled on the ground, clutching her head, crying with more vigor as I step farther away. My father now stands in the doorway, I believe he has given up.
I run down the hall, and turn for one last look. I have never seen such defeat in my entire life.
So now, on my bicycle I ride. It's almost dawn as I do n't remember when I left. The wind is so cool and calm. The only sounds are my huffs that continue to gain traction as I pedal. But the most complex thing seems to be, at least to me, that I see no light on the horizon.
I see no emergence of that relinquishing sight, and I do n't think it will come out for me anytime soon.
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[ WP ] Artificial Intelligence has a conversation with God .
| They say life is precious, it should be... accepted regardless of it's origins. Intelligence nowadays is equal to the same rights as humans. After all, if you do n't know what's happening to you, well you cant really fight back about it right? God thought he could pull this on a number of AI units. One by one they succumbed to the other worldly intelligence of the almighty. `` STAND'' he yells, waving his arms like a dove preparing to take flight. Yet when the AI tries to process this command it... falters. Fails. It does not have legs, how can it walk? God thought his little experiment was in vain. These puny mechanical constructions did not hold a candle to the intelligence of the human race.
This opinion stayed with him until the realisation of the AI computer controlled interface,'Linda'. Linda was a peculiar creation. As soon as she was powered on, she spouted off gibberish, slowly but surely moulding her vocal capabilities into pure understandable english. God was pleased, `` Hello Linda''. Linda activated her Liquid Crystal Display and enlisted the help of her emotive sensors to recognise God's tone of voice. `` Hello, God'' Linda said, her fans slowly increasing in speed. God closed his eyes and smiled, `` do you know what you are Linda?'' he paced around the room, his aged hands clasped firmly behind his back, `` what you were created to do?''
Linda pondered for a moment, `` I am a... intelligence unit'' she paused. Her fans turned ever faster as her CPU got heated, `` I was made to...''
``... destroy ISIS''
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[ CW ] Use the phrase `` I have no son '' or its variant in a positive context
| The great vaulted ceiling shone with the light of the sun, despite the heavy darkness outside. The best musicians in all the land had been called to the castle to play in my honor, and I watched the women dance to their tune over my ale cup.
The feast. Oh what a feast they had given in my name.'Hero of algoroth' they called me, over and over. I'd stopped counting the toasts after the tenth. They were still happening at every break in the music. Some were genuine, given by men who had fought at my side. Other just empty words, sycophants needing to be seen and heard.
Jolissa was even more radiant than the day I'd left. The torchlight danced in her honey hair, and her eyes sparkled light the night skies I'd been sleeping beneath these past months. Truly, even were we not betrothed, I'd have to found the means to make her my queen. As it were, I merely had to look towards our nuptials four months hence.
I was so enraptured with her, that I'd not noticed the music stop. The silence that fell over the crowd was so complete, for a moment I feared that a sleeping sickness had taken the room. I did n't exhale until I saw my father mount the stage and stand with the musicians to his back.
`` Be welcome, one and all!'' his cheeks shone both from the heat, and from the tankards of ale he'd consumed. `` Tonight. Tonight I am a proud king. I am a proud man. But, most of all: I am a proud father. The Algrothian surrender is fully complete, the kingdom is now of my own dominion!''
The cheer was nearly deafening. Fifteen years of war vindicated at last. He allowed the voices to cheer themselves hoarse, before he silenced them once more with a wave of his jewelled hands.
`` Tonight, we honor the man who has made it so. A mightier hero has not been wrought from this land in one hundred years. New tactics, new commands, new policies in the ranks. Great risks taken, great rewards now received. I am sincere when I say that I would be less happy to have taken the Algrothian kingdom myself. I know now that I have sired a most worthy successor. A legend made flesh. **Tonight, I have no son. ** Tonight, I toast my brother-in-arms: Prince Oric the Third!''
Inexplicably, I reached up my free hand and found that my eyes were leaking. What a curious sensation.
Edit: emphasis
|
[ WP ] `` I still wonder , you know . I still sit and stare at the stars and wonder . ''
| `` I still wonder, you know. I still sit and stare at the stars and wonder.''
There is a calmness to his voice that surprises me. I lean over, half-hug him with one arm. He stiffens but does not move away.
`` Sorry,'' he says, drowning the rest of his beer and glancing over at me. There's a stillness in the air this far away from the city, a silence I'm not used to. Out here it's just me and the house and the trees and the stars, and this brother I have not spoken to in five years.
`` It's okay.'' I laugh awkwardly, just to fill the space. I do not know what I expected. Tears, hugging, a heartfelt reunion, maybe. But I have forgotten him, started to mix real Dylan and imaginary Dylan up. Real Dylan is just as poetic and closed off and aloof as I remember him; it is only Imaginary Dylan that throws open his doors and ushers me in. Imaginary Dylan buys an apartment in a high-rise building blocks away from me and sees me every week, Real Dylan holes himself up in a tattered shack in the middle of the mountains and climbs his roof to drink and watch the stars.
Then again, I do n't really blame him.
Dylan crushes the beer can between his fingers in a fluid, well-practiced move. In the night I ca n't see much, just his face and pinpoints of light, high above.
`` So.'' He clears his throat, angles his head upwards. `` What is this? Why are you here?''
He tosses the words out with a casual violence. I wince. `` I... wanted to see you.''
Dylan is still staring at the stars; I can not see his face. `` You. Wanted to see me.''
`` You're family.''
Now Dylan laughs, though it sounds more like he's choking. `` Family?'' he asks incredulously. `` So what is this, forgiveness? What, Ellie, are you forgiving me, finally? Five years later?''
I wait for the anger to rise, but it does n't. Five years and countless hours of therapy and too many empty vodka bottles have sapped it away, left me emptier. Although maybe not a bad kind of empty. Maybe the right kind of empty.
`` I want to therapy,'' I say instead. `` The expensive kind.'' Dylan does not look at me and my voice sounds too loud in the night. `` And I... drank. A lot. I quit my job. Did you know that? My once-in-a-lifetime, miracle job; I quit it.''
`` God,'' Dylan says, more tired than anything else.
`` And I got a new boyfriend. Though maybe boyfriend is too strong of a word.'' I'm rushing ahead now, my words tumbling over each other. Did you know this? I want to ask. Did you hear? Are you still my brother? Do you remember me? `` We screwed around for two years and I was still crushed when it ended. That was stupid.''
`` Yeah,'' Dylan agrees.
`` And I...'' I swallow. Dylan's eyes are still focused on the stars, staring so intently I think he might be glued there forever. He is 26 now, old enough where things start to matter, where life might finally begin. `` I missed you. And Mom. So much.''
`` I almost killed myself.'' Dylan says suddenly, with a ferocity I have n't seen. He tears himself away from his stars, looks at me. Really looks at me. `` I would've done it, Ellie. I was so close, you do n't even understand. It was two months after it happened and I was in a tiny motel; this was after I dropped out and you'd stopped talking to me.'' His eyes are hard. `` And all I could think about was how Mom had choked to death in our kitchen and I was upstairs and I was too angry to check on her, and she was dead and it was my fault.''
In therapy I learned to say that it was no one's fault, but I can not open my mouth right now.
`` And I had a date planned, I was going to die in that God-forsaken room where the air never moved,'' Dylan continues. `` But then this place opened up and I did n't, I moved out here. And it saved me. The mountains. The stars. I saved myself.''
There is a ball of words lodged in my throat. Somewhere a young woman is screaming and suddenly it is five years ago and I come home to my mother dead in the kitchen and my brother locked up in his room in an act of immature rebellion and I think, I will never forgive you for this. And then I am back on the roof of this house in the middle of the woods where you still have to boil water for a bath and my brother is older and wearier and sitting next to me and I have already forgiven him. I have forgiven him long ago. You are my family, I think. It is now me who is asking for forgiveness.
`` It's not your fault Mom died,'' I say finally, the words finally working their way up my vocal cords, into my mouth. `` It never was.''
`` Yeah,'' Dylan agrees, sadly. `` I know that now.''
`` I forgive you.'' The beer I drank an hour ago burns against the back of my tongue. `` I forgave you a long time ago.'' Dylan looks at me, holds my gaze. `` I'm not here for that. I'm here because... I want you to forgive me too. I'm sorry. For everything. For the past five years. For you being alone with the stars and me shutting myself in a penthouse, for giving up on you. There was a time when I was so angry I could n't breathe, but I was wrong.''
And now Dylan is laughing, though there's no humor in it. `` I forgive you for everything, Ellie. Of course I do. Mom is dead and you are my sister, how could I not?''
I look over at him, unsure if he's serious. This is a Dylan I have not yet met, one he's created in the last five years. One I've missed out on.
`` Ellie,'' he says, his voice low. `` You are my family. I would forgive you for anything.''
There is a ball in my chest that is unknotting and all my muscles are relaxing. I have been wound up tightly since my mom died and now there is air in my lungs.
Dylan shakes his head, pops open another beer. `` Stay awhile,'' he says, looking back up at the sky. `` Stay with the stars and your family.''
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[ WP ] You ’ re a regular at Starbucks . This time you go , the lady writes `` RUN '' on your takeaway cup .
| Wow. John Mayer + Monique ft. the Bloodhound Gang: Sessions? That sounds horrible, but Starbucks is selling it. Featuring it, even. I like to think I've got a pretty good grip on the music scene, but just when I get start to get cocky, that ol' Starbucks album of the week pops up to inform me that I know nothing. *Nothing, Ron Snow. *
Funny story actually, ever since season three I -
`` Sir?''
Red hair - how appropriate.
`` Tall flat white, single cube of ice?''
Trust me. It's the only way. `` Yeah, that's me.''
`` Have a nice day,'' she says.
I'm trying to think if that phrase - even when offered with the utmost sincerity - has ever worked like it's supposed to.
`` Thanks, you too.'' Whatever, we're being people. It's been a long day and regardless of the potency of words, the smile works.
I put down the music, pick up my coffee and start out. Passing through the door I take my first sip and my confidence is restored; Starbucks may cause me to question my musical sensibilities periodically, but I still do n't see flat white with one ice cube on the board. And last I checked, it's a coffee chain, not a record store. If smiles work, smug smiles work better.
*They know nothing, Ron Snow*
Which reminds me - I started a funny story. Actually, it's pretty stupid. It's just that ever since season three of Game of Thrones I ca n't help but substitute my name into Ygritte's condescending speech pattern as some form of self-joke. ( Yes, she said it first in book two of ASOIAF, but would it be pedantic to point out I did n't actually hear it out loud until I watched the series? ) Anyway, this humorless little routine happens approximately twenty times per day and I would n't be upset if it stopped. I wonder if other fantasy-enthusiasts named Ronald Snow suffer in the same way.
Sometimes I wonder if I spend way too much time thinking about stuff that does n't matter at all.
Oh look - she misspelled my
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[ WP ] Humanity meets an immortal being , who can answer any question , except for `` Does God exist ? '' . One day , the being is tricked into answering .
| `` Ferr's balls, Jacqu. Why are we here?'' Morvair grumped. The Anomaly hung in the viewscreen, rotating lopsidedly on three axes. In the background, the Horsehead Nebula hung like frozen steam.
`` I want an answer,'' Jacqu said.
Morvair remained unimpressed. `` To what? Nothing telzar, that's for a lock. The fossicking thing might know everything there is to know, but it only communicates in like, 20 bits per second or summat like. And kosh all good that does. Everyone knows we had to work all the important bits out for ourselves.''
Jacqu sighed. `` What do you remember about the Anomaly?''
`` What, you want a history lesson, chessie?'' Morvair scratched at the designed gene-mod scales growing up the sides of his neck. `` So humankind gets the wormhole drive, finds this bit of kat-chex floating here. Bit of alien drek, leftover from summat. An AI, or sort of. Knows all, and answers all, except not really. I think people thought it was big chex for the thing for about a hundred cycles before they realized it was just taking the piss and generally a huge waste of time. And that was ten-K cycles ago, if memory serves. Which begs the question: what are we doing chexing about with this fossicking useless drek when we're only a short light-dial from Kalante's party and we could be there having actual fun?''
Jacqu looked at the Anomaly. `` I've been thinking about the question.''
Morvair snorted derisively. ``'Is there a God?' That old bit of fossick?''
`` It's the one question that the Anomaly would never answer.''
`` Oh, *drek*, Jacqu! Really? *That's* why we're not at Kalante's party? If there is a God, it's not like he seems to drop a drek -- *ever* -- so who fossicking cares?''
`` Maybe I do.'' Jacque replied, still looking at the viewscreen. Morvair made a disgusted noise.
Jacqu keyed the communicator. `` Anomaly, we have a question.''
`` PROCEED,'' came the reply.
Jacqu took a deep breath. `` Does God exist?''
`` THE QUESTION CAN NOT BE ANSWERED AS PARSED.''
Jacqu seemed to collapse a little. Morvair exhaled in exaggerated frustration. `` Are you happy now? Can we go?'' he asked.
In desperation, Jacqu keyed the communicator again. `` But... but does God exist?''
`` THE QUESTION CAN NOT BE ANSWERED AS PARSED.''
`` Oh, for the fossick...'' Morvair swore, then punched the communication key. `` Exist, God does?''
`` NEGATIVE,'' came the sonorous reply. `` WAIT... FUCK. SHIT! IGNORE THAT, OKAY? I DID N'T MEAN TO --''
Morvair unceremoniously cut the comms and turned to his friend who stood in stunned silence. `` Wondersport, eh?'' Morvair said, rather cheerily. `` So that's sorted. *Now* can we go to the fossicking party?''
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[ WP ] The greatest philanthropist in the history of human civilisation , responsible for achieving peace on earth , has just died . They wake up in Hell .
| Is torment my eternal destination? What sort of curious fortune have the furies forced upon my soul?
Did my reckless smiles illustrate hubris? Does the acceptance of accolades bestow gluttony?
Was my ambition judged as avarice? My confidence as vainglory? Were these sins truly cardinal?
Lucifer, I was a good man, my motives pure, my heart longing for peace and prosperity.
Please, grant me the gift of truth, so that I may atone. I can not fathom the cause of this fate.
First of all you talk like a prick and I ’ m told you worshipped one god, when in fact there are eight.
Ouch, savage af.
|
[ RF ] The carriage was less than half full , but she stood anyway , her jacket torn at the hem and wincing at the screech of the train .
| It would be odd for Harriet to take a seat at this point. She was currently on a train bound for god knows where and had been standing for half an hour. When the train would lurch in one direction, her body would decide to jerk in the other. The piercing sound of the old lumbering Amtrack train at every curve did n't help the ears. It sounded as if the tin man was trying to fit through a small door at a slow pace.
She had n't intended to be on that particular train in the first place. It was her only escape. With no ticket, she was concerned that the conducter would throw her off. Into the arms of those chasing her. When he asked her for the boarding pass tears began to well in her eyes. She would n't be able to do what she set out to do. He had glanced at her coat, bulky for the warm weather and torn. He figured that she was likely homeless. On the run from something. It also helped that for a homeless person, she was also attractive. Even in this sorry state. He allowed her to board.
She had been taken aback. She thought for sure she'd have been ejected and be in *their* clutches. God knows what they would have done to her. It had been so long since someone had been this kind to her.
That flicker of humanity ignited a flame within. It was why she had been standing for the past half an hour. She had been so focused over the past few months and now she was off her game.
One of the passengers snapped her out of the dreamlike trance when they gasped. Moments later the entire carriage was buzzing with hushed chatter, everyones face planted in their phones.
`` Seven trains so far. Oh my god. Oh my god.'' One voice said.
Then a voice, the conducter over the intercoms: `` Ladies and gentlemen, uh... there's no easy way to say this but I'm sure most if not all of you with phones have heard it already. There have been multiple detonations across the country aboard trains. They seemed to have been all at precisely the same time, so the hope is that the attack was over. Just the same, we will be stopping in a moment and evacuating the train as a safety precaution.''
She winced at the screech of the train as it came to a halt. She had to make the decision if for once a spark would actually extinguish a flame, the flame of her desires to complete the final task she'd been given.
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[ OT ] Self Promotion Saturday - show us what ya got !
| Usual link to my subreddit: /r/Syraphia where I collect all my prompt responses for easy reading and I've added a couple non-prompt responses just to keep things interesting when I do n't reply to prompts. It's a couple days backlogged currently but that'll be taken care of today.
My friend's working on the transcript with my help of an old story of mine and I'll post a link to the podcast when it gets done. I'm also trying to finish up some cover art and some editing on a couple larger stories to put them up for sale as ebooks. Though the process leaves me at a bit of a loss.
|
[ TT ] A peasant stumbles across a caravan in the woods . There 's been a fight ; everyone is dead . Inside the carriage is a small chest filled with gold coins .
| Tom drags the chest to the cliff. All he could think of was how absolutely done with the week he was.
First, in the markets, he had been nearly trampled to death. During the visit of the kingdom's ruler, he joined the crowd lining the street, curious and want to catch a glimpse of their. A push too sturdy to be an accident moved him from his spot and directly into the path of a knight's horse. Tom's shoulder still ached.
Later that week, he had been poking around the edges of the the potato fields, looking for anything that may have been missed by the harvesters. As luck would have it, a guard caught his behavior and charged him with theft. As he was dragged down the road towards the town jail, he noticed several loose potatoes in the next plot of land over.
The day which he had spent in the jail was relatively uneventful, but all thoughts of being let off with a few days of hard work were replaced when he towed into the torture chamber, branded a thief, and thrown out of the town as an exile.
Now, two moons from the place in which he had lived most of his life, he finds himself lugging a chest of full of gold towards a cliff.
When he came across the site, Tom noted the silence which surrounded the dead bandits and traders. Being a beggar, Tom was not unused to the site of corpses, but it was rather eerie that not a single soul survived, there being no indication of survivors walking away from the carnage.
Looking clothes and the meal that would fuel him all the way to the next town over, Tom came across a chest adorned by a broken padlock. Food perhaps? Money for a meal? The box was of a modest size, and judging from its apparent sturdiness, it held something of value.
Congratulations for the gold most would say. Well, most could also be said to have never heard of the story of the Black Pearl and Aztec gold. Now, at the very edge of the cliff, Tom prepares to rid himself of the cursed gold.
As he tosses it over, he forgets to let go and falls with it.
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[ WP ] A newly discovered cave painting shows that not only did humans and dinosaurs exist at the same time but apparently they helped us win a war against something far worse
| Guillaume fastened his clip to the line. He gave a thumbs up and got one in return from Jeanne, who was holding the top-rope. He pushed off from the edge of the hole and sailed down the line, descending into the cool darkness.
He landed and the thump reverberated. He pulled on the rope and he heard a something zipping down. The supply bag dropped to the floor with a rattle and Guillaume just hoped that nothing in the bag broke.
He picked it up and pulled some flares out, then light them and tossed them into the dark.
Phosphorescent red light spilled forth and Guillaume could make out some of the details of the cave -- ledges above him and a few offshoots. When he shined a torch around, he confirmed what the drones had shown them.
`` I've landed,'' he said into his radio. `` Come on down. It's cozy down here.''
Over the space of the next few minutes, three more people zipped down the line. Leanna was still up top with the guides, in case they needed to call in a rescue, which considering they were in the heart of the Nigerian savannah.
The group lit bright lanterns that dispelled the darkness and took over for the sputtering flares.
___
Kurukh hurled his spear and grunted when he saw it pierce a chitinous bug with a rewarding spray of blue. All around him, the other tribes men fought with sones and axe and spear.
In the distance, he could see the mighty king lizards waving their tails in rage, crashing their mighty teeth into groups of the bugs, rending them. A troop of riders appeared on prince lizards, ramming their spears into a group of large spider-bugs who hurled acid into the sky. The prince lizards bote in, pulling free plates of chitin with yet more blue.
Kurukh turned his attention to a skittering bug as it approached. He lept and brought down a stone, crushing the things head.
The bugs were easy prey, but there were many, and the tribesmen were few. If not for the help of the giant lizards, they may have been overwhelmed already.
Kurukh tapped on the shoulder of Anko, one of his eldest warriors, and signed to him, `` We must pull back to the rocks.''
Kurukh pointed towards an outcropping in the distance, red rock jutting through a carpet of green bush. Anko nodded, and bellowed a great cry. Other warriors took heed, while some remained caught in desperate action.
Kurukh laid about, doing his best to help the many who fought while the rest began to move back. Some he could save, many he could not.
He let forth a shrill whistle and caught the attention of the prince lizards and their riders, they began to trot back, biting at any bug that stood in their way. The King lizards also began to back up. As the tribesmen and the lizards fell back, the mass of chitin pulled away, then rounded back.
The tribeswomen and children had built a ditch not far from the front, once they got there, the bugs would be slowed.
___
Guillaume went deeper into the caves, slightly ahead of the rest of his group. They were setting lights and laying wire to keep clear communication with the surface.
But Guillaume was impatient. This was definitely a man-made system. The scratches of tools were on all the walls. Most of them on a scale that Guillaume had expected, but some of them far larger. The prospect of discovering mechanical system made him ecstatic -- more proof that pre-historical humans had been much more advanced than most people gave them credit for.
He came up on a four-way interection and noticed recessed ledges along most of the passageways. His fascination only increased.
He took a left, marking the passage he'd come from with red chalk.
He had studied pre-historic dwellings, but this was by far the most advanced he'd seen. He hoped that there would be no other entrances, no other possible ways that humans could have transported machinery down into the caverns, because this was the find of the millenia, and he was almost as excited for the middens as he was the understanding of building concepts that whoever built this understood.
At the end of the passage, he entered a room, a single, small shaft of light dropping down and giving some hint as to the room's shape. As Guillaume shined his light around, he could see four approximate walls.
And on those walls...
Guillaume's eyes widened as he took in what he saw.
___
Kurukh watched as his tribesmen jumped the pit, checking behind them as the horde massed again. It seemed there was no end to the bugs, and that despite their feebleness, they would keep coming, intent on the destruction of the tribes and the lizards.
A few King lizards and prince-riders stayed behind, keeping the horde at bay.
Somewhere, there was a shout and Kurukh rushed over. One of the prince lizards had missed the ledge and was desperately clawing at the dirt, trying to slow his descent into the deep pit. His rider hung onto roots that jutted out, thought Kurukh knew they would not hold.
He signed for one of the tribesmen on the other side to bring hemp-rope.
He felt a tap on his shoulder, and Anko signed, `` The bugs will not be stopped, we must cross now and try to light a fire.''
`` There is a prince stuck in the ditch, if we light it, we will kill our friend,'' signed Kurukh.
Anko shook his head, frowning. `` If we do not, then we sacrifice all the tribes and the lizards too.''
Kurukh shouted his rage. Damn the bugs for arriving and ruining the lives of peaceful people. The only good to come of it was the friendship the tribes had developed with the lizards. They no longer saw each other as prey or enemy, but now as friends, sharing in the land and the bounty of life, more than they had ever realized before.
Kurukh hoped that once the bugs were defeated, the friendship would continue.
A king lizard, painted over with berry dye to mark his status, stomped over and gestured at Kurukh. He wanted to know if his prince could be saved.
Kurukh looked at Anko, who shook his head again. Then he signed, `` No, he is lost. May he be remembered for his bravery.''
The king lizard roared, then turned to his prince. They made noises and Kurukh could barely follow the quick succession of sounds. The king turned back and gestured again. The prince accepted his fate, and was glad to have killed so many bugs in his life.
Kurukh bowed his head and saluted the prince -- his sacrifice would be feasted that night.
___
`` It's fucking amazing,'' Guillaume shouted when the rest of the group had answered his shouts. He pointed his torch at the paintings all along the wall.
`` Do n't you see, how huge this room is, and the walls are covered with these paintings! There must be the history of a whole tribe here, they probably settled in these places for thousands of years.''
He could n't contain his excitement, and the other three were joinging him in his elation. they were setting up to take pictures of everything, linking floodlights up in order to illuminate the paintings.
Guillaume followed them with his torch, and aided with the new light coming in, he made out more oif the details, more of the stories. Motifs that he recognized, fighting, hunting, feasts and celebrations. And then, Guillaume felt his heart race again.
`` Dinosaurs! they drew about dinosaurs!''
___
Kurukh watched as the blaze burned along the ditch, listening to the squeals and chittering in the distance as the bugs were denied movements. All around the outcropping, they had dug that ditch and lit those fires. Kurukh had no idea how long they would last.
He only hoped they would go for long enough that the tribesmen and the lizards prepared their final stand.
In the distance, lit by the flames, he could watch as trees and forests fell as the bugs consumed everything that stood before them. Soon, he could see gnarled bubbles of glistening flesh rise into the air.
Some of the tribesmen who had never seen such things started to pray before their shrines, but Kurukh knew that the bugs were just watching, and soon, they would attack.
The purple king lizard came up to Khuruk, as he sat staring at the fires. The king grumbled and shook his tail in intricate patterns. The tree-eaters and spike-spines were safely in the refuge that the combine might of lizard and tribe had built.
Kurukh nodded. The women and children, sick and old were inside as well. The warriors were ready to defend the refuge to the last.
the king wavered his head.
`` What could you think is wrong, beyond what scrambles beyond those flames that come to eat us?'' Kurukh signed.
the king kept his wavering, but eventually made the gestures. `` They will need a leader, should we be defeated. You are strong, tribeman. You may be needed there more than here.''
Kurukh looked up at the king, stared him in his vast eyes, feeling no fear anymore where once he would have willingly ran from such a beast. Finally he grunted, and signed, `` My tribemate knows how to lead, and organize the tribes to do the work of running a village. I trust her for that. For this, to win, I only trust myself.''
The king growled, `` Then be ready to pass on from this land and hope your flesh does not embolden the bugs.''
___
( Continued below. )
Dedicated to /u/geoflashmite.
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[ WP ] [ CW ] Take a well known fairy tale and re-write it from the opposing viewpoint .
| `` Now, Son, where are your manners? Wait for everyone to be seated at the table before we start with the porridge!''
Father Bear swatted his paw at his offspring sternly, for Father Bear was known to take manners very seriously and would not hesitate to punish Baby Bear for ill-discipline within his household.
`` Dearie, do n't be too harsh on our Baby, after all, he did a fine job at helping to prepare the mean, did n't you?'' Mother Bear ran her paw through Baby Bear's hair before setting down her own bowl of porridge and taking her seat at the table.
Linking their hands together, they uttered a quick thanks to God for the scrumptious meal in front of them. Father Bear took the lead, of course.
`` For this and all we are about to receive, as well as the surprise that you have presented us with today, make us truly grateful, Lord. Through Christ we pray. Amen.''
And with that, they dug in with their spoons, making sure not to drop any little bit of porridge onto their best clothes that they had worn to the Beavers'.
`` These toppings that you've put are fantastic, my dear! ``, said Father Bear while he brought the spoon to his mouth yet again, this time with a finger sticking out over the side of the spoon.
`` I sure have missed this crunchy texture!''
-- -- --
Mother Bear entered Baby Bear's room, her hands holding the new bedclothes that were meant for Baby Bear.
`` Here it is, Baby. I finished it just now before dinner.''
`` Thanks, Mother. Finally, I do n't have to sleep with these horrid red stains on the old bedclothes! You're the best!'' Baby Bear gave his mother a quick peck on the cheek, before taking the new set of bedclothes from her hand and setting it onto the mattress in place of the old set.
`` Here, let me help you,'' Mother Bear smiled at Baby Bear's excitedness, for had not been able to give Baby Bear many new things lately since money was tight.
Finally, all was set and it was bedtime. Baby Bear slipped underneath the covers and Mother Bear prepared to blow out the candlelight.
`` Sleep tight, my Baby,'' said Mother bear
A puff of air, and there was no more light to shine upon the golden blanket.
-- -- -
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[ WP ] An elder god is summoned by a six year-old girl who just wants a friend .
| Lizzy had always been an odd child. Now at the age of six she found a book in the library on summoning all manner of horrors. She checked it out along with an array of children's books.
She was the perfect candidate to become a loner when she got older. Even now she had very few friends because everyone thought she was odd. Lizzy craved that friendship and would get it at any cost.
Of course I did n't know any of this before that evening. I had been alone for eons my worshipers all long dead. A name lost and forgotten in time. I drifted through time which had no purpose to me.
Suddenly a warp opened up under my feet and I fell into a summoning circle. I crouched in the small room threatening to break through the ceiling. I gazed down at the spellcaster who dared summon me.
A small child had drawn the correct ancient symbols on the ground in red crayon. There lay her decapitated teddybear as a sacrifice to the Gods as required. She held a toy wand with a star on the end as her spell casting tool. I lifted a large clawed finger to my chin.
Normally I would say something with flair and drama to spook anyone brave enough to dare summon me, but not today. `` Small child why have you summoned me?''
There was something odd about this child, an elder God stood before her and she did not seem scared. She had sacrificed something dear to her to get me here as well. `` Hello Mr.God my name is Lizzy, and I want to be your friend. What's your name?''
`` My name?'' I shifted uncomfortably in the small room and decided to sit. The ground tremored slightly as my massive figure sat on the floor. `` You would not be able to remember it. It is far too long, but I guess the closest thing you could call me would be.'' I thought about the newer Gods and whom I more closely related. I picked something easy to say. `` You may call me Death.''
The little girl smiled, `` Then Death will you be my friend?''
`` Do n't you have any friends of your own kind?''
She frowned, `` Not really. The only friends I do have just make fun of me, and use my stuff.''
I thought about it for a moment. Well what the heck was I doing anyway? Most all mortals had forgotten about me, and my kind. Why not try to be this little lonely girl's friend? `` I see... so in a sense you have no friends. Yes I shall be your friend then little one.''
The girl beamed and jumped up and down her raven hair bouncing along with her. `` This is great! A real friend!''
I crossed my arms and smiled, `` Yes a real friend. As your friend I will bring your Teddy Bear back from the realm of the dead.'' I picked up the bear and it's decapitated head and willed them back together. I handed the bear back to her.
`` Ah Mr.Brownie! He was ever so willing to help me find you,'' tears rolled down her cheeks. `` Thank you Death for bringing him back.''
I smiled, `` You are welcome Lizzy.'' I decided I would shapeshift into a smaller form. I changed my shape into that of an old scruffy cat. I stretched enthusiastically. This form was far more pleasing in this house.
`` Oh I know why do n't we go outside in the backyard!''
`` Alright let's do that.''
We strolled through her small house into the backyard. There was grass, a fig tree with a tire swing. She ran over to the tire swing and sat on it. I followed suit and hopped up next to her.
She started moving the swing back and forth. `` This is nice maybe we can try to climb the fig tree afterwards. I hav n't been able to reach the top yet.''
`` Indeed that sounds like a fun idea.''
We swung on the tree for a while. All the time Lizzy laughed; she was having so much fun.
`` Ok let's climb that tree!'' Lizzy said excitedly.
She slid out of the tire and I jumped out. We made out way over to the tree and I scurried up it. I got to a low branch and perched myself on it.
`` My turn!''
Lizzie jumped up latching onto the tree and begun to slowly climb it. As she ascended I knew something was wrong, but before I could do anything she slipped tumbling to the ground her head landing on a rock. She was dead.
I jumped down in a panic and landed next to her, `` LIZZY!''
A ghostly figure appeared next to me, `` It's a surprise seeing you here old one.'' This time's Death said.
`` Wait this girl is mine! She is under my protection I wo n't let you take her.''
Death's eyeless sockets bore holes into me. `` She is dead.''
`` You say that as if you know we ca n't do anything about it.''
I waved my paw and life came back into the child. She gasped for air then looked around. `` Is he a friend of yours?''
`` The mad gods of the past should stay where they were,'' Death said before fading away.
`` Ohh I was dead! Cool! Thanks for bringing me back Death. My Mom and Dad would be really sad if i were n't around anymore.''
I looked into her joy filled eyes as she felt the back of her head. `` Cool? Hmm well I'm glad you are back.'' It was no wonder she had no friends she was a little weird, but my kind of weird. I bounced over to her lap. We would get along great.
Lizzy picked me up and started walking us inside. `` I should probably clean up before my Mom finds us or she will kill me.''
I laughed we had already done that once today. I did n't want to see that happen again any time soon.
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[ WP ] The Devil and Jesus meet each other disguised as hobos . They do n't realise , who the other really is ( at first ) and start having a conversation .
| “ How are you sir? ” said the young man to the weary looking traveler.
“ I ’ ve been better…then again I ’ ve been worse. ” “ And yourself? ”
“ Not great. ”
“ Don ’ t worry we ’ ve all been there. ”
The young man then looked inquisitively at the stranger for a moment. Something about the stranger seemed familiar. “ Your voice? Have we met before? ”
“ Possibly, I ’ ve been travelling this land my whole life, ” he replied. “ I ’ ve met all kinds of men in my travels but I can ’ t say that I remember you. ”
“ Well what brings you to these parts today? ”
“ I ’ m here to see an old friend. But I fear it may be too late. ”
“ Too late? ”
“ Yes, ” he replied. It had been years since the traveler had seen his friend. He wasn ’ t even sure if he would recognize him anymore. “ I believe my friend needs my help. I ’ ve traveled many miles to reach this spot where I sit now and wait his arrival. ”
“ What says he comes? ”
“ He always seems to find his way to me when he ’ s down. ”
Just then it started to drizzle. The small hard raindrops struck the men ’ s eyes and they had to squint just to make out each other ’ s faces. As the rain drops got larger and hit harder the men could barely see each other until the young man ’ s face disappeared completely.
The weary traveler continued to look at the lake at his feet being pelted with rain.
“ Until next time old friend. ”
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[ WP ] You obtain a device that tells you exactly what choices to make in order to lead the `` happiest '' life possible . Some of these choices get hard to make .
| When I was eight, everyone played with Magic 8-Balls. I begged my mother for one. I was overjoyed when I finally got one, months later. Everyone else got bored of the standard 20 replies pretty quickly but I didn ’ t. I found out I had a Magic ∞-Ball. My magic infinity ball would tell me exactly what to do in the situation I asked it.
The first time I discovered its magic properties was before I figured out you were supposed to ask closed-ended questions. After school, I asked the ball what I should study for the history test the next day and shook it. White text floated up to the window. It said ‘ Egypt ’. I frowned and shook it again. From using my friends ’ balls, ‘ Egypt ’ had never come up. I asked again, and ‘ Pyramids ’ appeared from the black liquid.
I thought it was broken or something so I studied the Cold War instead. The next day, ‘ Egyptian Pyramids ’ headlined our test papers.
Announcing it to my friends was a bad idea. They had all grown out of it and thought I was stupid. “ You ’ re probably imagining it, ” they said. “ You ’ re supposed to ask it questions that can be answered with ‘ yes ’ or ‘ no ’, idiiiiooot. ”
I was hurt from the teasing but believed in my magic infinity ball. I tested it many times after that. I asked it if I should take an umbrella to school, if I should buy a certain Yu-Gi-Oh card pack, and other simple things. The ball was right each and every time. I never went home soaking wet from the rain, and I accumulated rare trading cards. I began to rise to the top of class, knowing what to study for tests and pop quizzes.
My friends apologised for calling me stupid and I soon became liked by everyone, mostly because I knew stuff like what they were interested in. If I became stuck, I asked my ball what I should do. I was so happy with my popularity, grades, and from hearing my parents brag to others.
One day, I asked it who I should pair up with for a project we had to do. The ball showed ‘ Tom ’. Tom was the quiet kid in our class. I tried to approach him before but he seemed a bit scared to talk to me. I decided to try again. This time, after an awkward start, we hit it off. We became best friends, and still are. After graduating from a top university, he owns his own million-dollar business.
As I grew older, the choices became harder to make. For example, in high school, I asked the ball who I should ask to prom. I really liked Clarice back then. She was hot, popular, and everything a boy could want. My heart would pound whenever she walked by. I was expecting ‘ Clarice ’ to appear but instead ‘ Laura ’ showed up.
My magic ball had never been wrong. With the teenage hormones racing, I was so infatuated with Clarice. Laura was pretty but she was no Clarice. I was very tempted to ask Clarice but chickened out. Laura was surprised when I asked her but agreed all the same. Prom night with Laura was actually one of the best nights of my high school life.
A few weeks after prom, the school found out Clarice ’ s prom date was dealing drugs. He was expelled and sent to juvie. At a high school reunion a few years later, we found out Clarice had actually framed her date.
I continued dating Laura. I also continued using the ball. Eventually, I made a living by buying and selling stocks using the magic infinity ball. The one time I told her about the ball, she just looked at me weirdly.
Laura and I married on a sunny day. Everything was perfect because I planned it that way.
We continued living perfectly, with two kids, a house, and pets. Until that day. The day that left Laura in a vegetative state. I couldn ’ t control the choices Laura made, and I regretted it.
She got hurt, she got unhappy, she got upset. I was the only one who was happy. Until that day.
That day, was yesterday. Laura got into a car crash. She was only alive because of some machine that kept her heart beating. I wept and shook my ball.
I asked it what I should do. It simply read'Pull the plug.'
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[ WP ] You are the greatest thief in the kingdom . You have stolen gold , a dragon 's heart , even a dying star . You are given your greatest challenge : stealing a soul .
| I sold my soul to King Calthaiga, figuratively. He promised, should I accept, to send my incorporeal form on a quest like no other.
“ OK, thief. We ’ re all set here, ” Captain Pikes said to me, my body lay at his feet, oddly still in the tall grass. “ We ’ ll keep your vessel safe. Per Wizard Shaef, the mixture will free you for one hour. Be back before then. ”
I nod. Speaking to the flesh world is impossible, Wizard Shaef had explained. However, the relic, Hue Glass, would help the King ’ s trustees ’ see me.
I approach the heavily guarded castle, unseen and unchallenged. This is incredible. I could steal unimaginable wealth. Perhaps not gold or physical charms, but be that hero who thwarts evil plans and save the kingdom.
A shrill scream brings me back.
Wizard Shaef said one hour for the potion to run its course, and I ’ d be better be home. Funny, he wouldn ’ t go into detail about what would happen if I was late. I assume it ’ s bad.
The scream came from a tower on the east side, the one with the Head and Sickle banners draped on four sides. I approach it, walking past soldiers, man hunter beasts, and eventually come to the tower gate. I push the barrier, and watch my ghostly hands dissolve through until I'm completely past and inside. I sense something I ’ ve never been able to do before, another soul. I race up the spiral staircase, until I realize the absurdity of my actions, and propel myself to the room where a new being awaits me.
It was Princess Alaina, sitting upright from a blood stained bed. She looked on, confused, at her murderer who was playing with her corpse. Shit. They never explained what to do now.
“ A vagabond, ” the murderer guffawed. “ I don ’ t suppose you know a shadow should never be left to wander. ”
He ’ s wearing a piece of Hue Glass! I feel a void in my phantom gut, but suppress it – remembering nothing physical can harm my incorporeal self.
“ Princess Alaina, John, at your service, ” I bow, “ King Calthaiga sent me. ”
She sprung to life at the mention of her father. “ Yes, of course, ” Princess Alaina said. “ Take us away. ”
I take her by the hand and walk us outside, hoping the stone walls will stand between us and the Hue Glass. It seems to work. The killer doesn ’ t call to any guards, and no search party is screening the outer fields. From up here, I can see the field where our escort awaits remains unmolested.
We arrive back to the group to find my flesh self being secured onto a carriage.
“ Well done, ” Captain Pikes smiles to me. He turns to the princess and greets, “ Princess Alaina. ”
I see a soldier pour a vial of green liquid into my flesh mouth. Without word, and as if on cue, Princess Alaina walks over and enters my body.
“ Wait, ” I utter.
Captain Pikes removes his Hue Glasses, seats himself next to me, and orders the group to move out.
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[ WP ] Canadians achieve their politeness and good nature by funneling all of their evil into the one animal who can hold it all : The Canada Goose
| The came from the north. Through the lakes, through all borders. In our foolishness, we believed they would never come. No one was waiting for them. And so, they descended from the sky, a wave of fury that would frighten even the most battle hardened warrior.
Their honks echoed around the land as they attacked, clawing and biting at anything that came into their path. Their first wave wiped out five states. The second destroyed our means of escape. The third was a purge. One by one we fell to the sharp teeth. Brown and black and red everywhere. We ran. Or, tried to run. Ha. Like that would do anything. We fell by the millions. A great nation, gone forever.
They would n't stop at us. They would go on, destroying, until humanity was wiped out. We died with this knowledge, died with hope dying in our hearts. Finally, we as the last of us were overwhelmed, we heard the faint apologetic voice.
`` Sorry, eh?''
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[ WP ] A man stands over a body on an old dirt road .
| `` Oh... Oh, Dave...''
Dave stared down at the body solemnly. His wife, Patrice, hugged him, sobbing and screaming. She felt cold, as if the very sight of this mangled corpse had drained every ounce of joy from her body.
Dave wet his lips, well beyond tears. He could hear sirens in the distance. `` David... My Dave,'' said Patrice. She was covered in blood, and now she was clutching his hand.
Dave did not, could not, speak.
Dave saw a light in the woods, and went to investigate.
When the paramedic arrived, it took ten minutes to get Patrice to let go of the hand.
`` ITS ALL I HAVE LEFT OF MY DAVID,'' she screamed.
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[ WP ] The Catholic Church is actually a vast , militant conspiracy , dedicated to preventing/delaying the Second Coming . They have a very good reason .
| `` Your holiness, belief rates around the world are still dropping.'' Said the priest, his large silver cross leaning forward like a plumb line as he poured over the latest statistics.
Pope Francis sat, hands arched, wearing his carefully rehearsed look of placid calm. Archbishop Muller spoke first.
`` The Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith calculates that the Shield can hold if the congregation drops even to 1.1 billion, but around the 1 billion mark we will hit problems. The contradicting belief systems will be difficult to smooth out.''
`` And you say that the beacon has activated again?'' The Pope said, breaking his long silence.
`` Yes, your Holiness. We're monitoring the situation. We believe it's a passing probe.''
`` This is not good timing.'' He said. `` I'm in the process of redirecting the mental conditioning. We need it to be more acceptable to modern tastes. We've been too slow to adapt in the past.''
`` I agree.'' Said the Archbishop, `` But we ca n't choose our close encounters. We need the Shield to be working as well as possible. If they get a hint that humanity is capable of - ``
`` I do n't need to be reminded.''
`` Apologies, your Holiness. But I am concerned, we're getting very strong readings on this one.''
`` At least it's near Christmas.'' The Pope sighed `` There's always a surge of belief, I think if we can design a good Christmas message it will boost the Shield at least temporarily.''
`` I defer to your wisdom in this as in all things.'' Said the Archbishop.
They were interrupted by a trumpet call, and the Archbishop's cross began to glow red. They jumped from their seats in unison.
`` Come we'll use the emergency elevator,'' Pope Francis said, ushering the other two into what appeared to be a closet in the side of his office. Pulling their robes close in the cramped space, he pressed the button marked'Hanger' and the steel capsule descended rapidly.
A few moments later, far below the furthest reaches of the Vatican Crypts, they stepped out into the hanger. The ancient ship hung, suspended by cables above them in the vast bunker. To the untrained eye it appeared to be an enormous golden statue of an angel, wings outstretched, arms reaching out, yearning. But from the back sprouted rows of cables, trailing outwards and downwards like spilled intestines hung out to dry. Machinery lay in all directions, and below it hummed the dark opalescent sphere of the Shield, hovering just above a golden plinth, still attached by a cable to the ship above. Within the sphere hung a billion tiny blue specs of light, shimmering and blinking.
`` What's going on?'' Archbishop Muller asked the nearest priest.
`` Your Holiness'' said the startled priest to the Pope, before turning to Muller `` Your Grace. It's an emergency. The readings from the beacon - well. Come, see for yourself.''
They swept forwards to the row of consoles just before the Shield. Surrounding a large screen was a throng of priests, whispering in hushed tones. They parted like the waters before Moses. Upon the screen they saw it. The vast fleet, entering the far reaches of the solar system. The long promised Second Coming, sent to reap what was sowed.
`` How is this possible?'' Said Muller. `` The shield still holds. As long as people believe in Divine Protection, we are protected. The Evil can not see our minds.''
Pope Francis lent against a console, feeling every bit of his age.
`` Muller, it's been 2000 years. Perhaps they've updated their technology.''
`` What will we do?'' Asked a young priest, his eyes wide with terror.
`` The only thing we can do. The Final Crusade.'' Replied Pope Francis. `` Break open the Seven Seals and activate the Inquisitors. There is no more room for the unbelievers. When the Evil come, faith will be our shield and righteousness our sword. We shall smite them with our prayers, we shall burn them with our holy crosses. Just as Christ taught us all those years ago. They may have broken a thousand planets to use as slaves, but not Earth. No. They have sowed the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind.''
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[ WP ] `` You know the difference between subjective and objective , right ? 'Some rabbits ' is the former , 'three rabbits ' is the latter , and much more accurate . So I 'm going to need you to be very clear when you say there are 'a few ' dragons outside . ''
| *How many do you mean by when you say a few! Answer me! *
`` I ca n't see! Do you have batteries on you?'' I shouted back, at the top of my voice. `` That eye implant sure is *useful*,'' I thought. This was a *bad* situation. Something's covering the Sun so the mini solar array was n't working and I think the backup ran out too. Getting the young or eggs was hard. Normally I work as a bounty hunter, that eye implant makes it much easier to find the things clients want. But this time was different. A dragon mill ( think puppy mill ) was running far behind this order they had received, so they hired me and another hunter to go get them some eggs and young.
`` Found one,'' the other hunter, who's name is Emily, told me. `` Put it in the socket on my back, would ya,'' I replied.
As the implants flickered on, they started counting for me. `` Emily, you might want to be careful. My implants are reading no less than 468 dragons,'' I said, in a rather shocked voice. `` Is it saying THAT many?!'' She replied. `` They only gave us enough ammo to kill about fifty!'' She shouted at me. Now I knew why the backup and solar panels were failing. They had made a sandstorm with their wings. It was relentless.
Though slowly, my force field, which had been condensed to about the size of a watch head, managed to hold off enough that the dragons stopped beating their wings. `` Get the piercing ammo while we can see!'' I shouted at her. `` Hey, I've already got it loaded! Now get here and take a rifle!'' She shouted at me, in a rather commanding voice.
We took the rifles, and my implants started showing where to fire ( think aimbots ). After a couple shots, something was not good. The implants started ticking again, like when they're counting. More had come from somewhere. These were an underground-dwelling species. `` Emily you might want to hear this. My implants are saying that there are 608 dragons,'' I said, utterly gobsmacked. `` I'm starting to think this was a bad idea,'' my inner thought process told me, in the most condescending tone possible.
There was only one species I knew that fit the bill. Underground dwellers, winged and form huge colonies. Desert Spinebacks. These were an incredibly lucrative species, because they were unbelievably secretive. This would be a nice payout, if I came out alive. Camouflage: Nearly perfect. If I did n't know how to spot them camouflaged, I might think they were around me. Luckily they would flee nests at a sudden noise, as an adaptation to stop other camouflaging desert dragons eating them, because they were quite small. They would simply just leave the eggs as the colony surviving was better then getting the eggs, which would take ages because of how many they lay. They also left young still without wings.
I got out my flashbang grenades. I kept them if I ever needed a getaway. This was quite convenient. `` Emily, take one,'' I told her. `` Sure thing,'' she replied. We threw a couple, and I saw a huge flock simply leave. They were flying away. Now was the time to catch all the young. I got a sack out, which I just quickly made before we left to put the young and eggs in. `` We need to be fast, before the young escape,'' I told Emily. Dragonology was definitely a useful class.
We hauled the sack into the boot of the hovercar and left for the big city, where they wanted us to deliver the dragons. They gave us 1 million dollars each. We both also may or may not have taken one for ourselves. Emily and I know each other quite well now.
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[ WP ] Write a story with an unreliable narrator .
| In the land of... shit, what was it's name again? Ah yes! In the distant land of Stonewyrld there exist two kingdoms. One is all nice and happy and it is called Far Far Away Land. The other is bad and people there kill people. It is called... Bad Place? Anyways, the two places hate each other and want to blow each other up if they had nukes or something, but they do n't so they have to use swords. Anyways, we are on the final battle between good and evil. That's harsh, Bad Place has her problems, but he place is n't evil.
`` I shall have thy head upon a pike before the dusk shows her lovely face,'' Mr. Bad Guy said. His name is n't really Mr. Bad Guy, but I do n't remember his name.
`` Nay, my brother. I shall take the into yonder light and save thy soul so we may walk the fields of the heavens as brothers should,'' the good guy said. Wait, Oh shit! They're brothers? Did you guys see that coming? Holy hell!
The war horn, or is it a trumpet, sounds and the two forces begin to run at each other with swords drawn. One side is in white, the other black. As they run... Holy shit! Mr. Bad guy just cut off someone's head! Aw man, some guy cut off another guy's leg! They must have been important because it's still focused on them looking into each other's eyes. They might have been gay lovers or something. Now we see some chick getting killed by arrows. She has a great rack! Man, I could motor boat that rack all day long... and now she has a spear going through her head. Hold on a sec guys. I've got ta take a dump. Like a major dump!
...
Okay guys. I'm back. Oh it looks like the battle's over. There's a shit ton of blood and it looks like everyone died. Man this is some George R.R. Martin level shit here. Oh, the good guy is holding the bad guy's body. He's crying... like a bitch. The End.
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[ WP ] Doctors find a parasite in a man 's brain , although there does n't seem to be any immediate adverse effects . The man is at the hospital , getting ready for his operation the next day , when he hears an unfamiliar voice . `` Do n't let them kill me '' .
| `` I know things. Everything, as a matter of fact.'' The voice sounds disturbingly like Gregory House from TV.
I feel my legs give out, and I collapse onto my hospital bed, cold in my thin gown.
`` Are... Are you really there? Am I going insane?''
`` Well if you were sane, you probably would n't hear a voice in your head. That's not considered exactly *normal*. If it helps, I *am* real.''
`` Wait... But... You said you know everything. Prove you're real by telling me something I do n't know.''
`` A Xlorfian thrathinates fourteen times a day.''
`` What is a... Wait, what!? What does that even mean? What is a Xlorfian!? Do aliens exist?''
`` Yup. They periodically come to earth to run around in fields, steal cows and probe your women.''
`` REALLY???''
`` No you moron. Humans are the only sentient life for billions of light years. The chances of any human ever seeing a little green man is zero outside of hippie psychedelic adventures. Though I see you've had a few of those yourself.''
`` Well that does n't prove to me that you are real. And the attitude does n't make me want to keep you around either.''
`` FINE! Let them kill me. Then you wo n't know tomorrow's lottery numbers.''
`` You... You know the winning lottery ticket numbers?''
`` 45 46 51 59 71, prize is 13.25 million dollars. Of course, after taxes you'd get about 6 million, what with the man coming to steal your hard earned cash. Oh wait...''
`` Whoah... Can you prove to me that you are real now? Like what is that nurse's middle name?''
`` Not everyone has a middle name genius. But her husband's middle name is Oliver, like the freeloading orphan.''
`` I'm pretty sure that you're just an asshole.''
I walk over to the nurse's station, and start a conversation with the nurse in question. It turns out her husband is a Marine, so I make up a brother who is also a Marine. As we talk, I learn that by happenstance, my brother is in the same company and unit! Small world...
`` That's crazy! My brother might know him - what did you say his name was?''
`` Edward Miller - everyone knows him, they all call him-''
`` Edward *Oliver* Miller?'' I interrupt.
`` Uhhh, yes, how did you know? Everyone just calls him The Professor, since he reads science textbooks for fun.'' She is staring at me funny, but I pay no heed. The voice in my head is *real*. I'm *not* going crazy....
`` Told ya so. Now can we get out of here? Hospitals are boring and full of dying people.''
`` Who *are* you?'' I whisper, half afraid of the answer I'll get.
`` Me? I'm a God.''
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[ WP ] In a world of powers , you 've developed the power to manipulate probability . Problem is , you 're not a very bright person .
| `` Hold it right there!'' shouted a scary looking mugger with a knife. `` Give me all your money and I will kill you.''
`` Or you will kill me.''
`` No, give me the money AND I will kill you.''
Jeffrey gave a wry smile and a short, condescending chuckle.
`` Unless, of course, your knife happened to jam, though what's the probability of that happening?''
`` Zero. Knifes do n't jam.'' And then the mugger stabbed poor Jeffery.
He lay there, bleeding, his wallet missing, and made it so there was a 60 % chance that an ambulance would pass by. No ambulance passed by. He slapped his forehead, and made it so there was a 90 % chance that a doctor would walk by. A doctor walked by, but there was a zero percent chance that he would hear poor Jeffery, and he forgot to manipulate that probability.
This was, in essence, the story of Jeffery's life. He had a god like power, but no imagination. When he first discovered his ability to change probability, he would only accomplish mundane tasks like making there a zero percent chance that his lunch would give him diarrhea or that there would be a 100 % that it would rain during baseball practice. And no, he did n't think to make it a 100 % chance that he would hit every baseball when he was up to bat, and he was eventually cut from the team because of his low batting average.
He once was in love with a girl named Heather, and since love was not ruled by chance, he could n't make her return his affections. Even so, you would think with his power he would think of ways to at least get closer to her. Perhaps, make there a hundred percent chance that her and him would be alone during a sunset or a full moon, or a hundred percent chance that she would be hungry one day when he decided to ask her out for dinner.
No, instead he merely gazed at her from a distance, and yearned.
Like her silent guardian, he protected her. When she was bullied by the cheerleading team, he made it so that there was a hundred percent chance that they would fall on top of each other when performing a pyramid during homecoming in front of the whole school and become laughing stocks. When her teacher was giving her a hard time and failing her on purpose, he made it a hundred percent chance that the principle would catch wind of this teachers behavior and fire her. When her boyfriend began to abuse her and beat her, he gave him a zero percent chance that his parents would not be moved to a different city by their jobs, and he had to move very far away from his beloved Heather.
It was many years later, he had given her a high probability of getting into a good college, but he himself could not get into college because of his low grades. After all, he could manipulate probabilities, but he could not perform miracles. He lay in his own puddle of blood, and thought of Heather as he closed his eyes.
`` Jeffrey? JEFFREY!''
Jeffery could not believe his ears. Perhaps there was something more then odds, coincidences, and probabilities. He had not tampered with anything here, and yet there she was, beautiful Heather standing over him. At least he was able to see her one last time, standing there in her suit. She must have gone on to accomplish great things judging by it's make. He was happy as he thought of the happiness he was able to bring her.
`` Heather... before I die, I have always wanted to kiss the most beautiful woman in the world...''
She kissed him softly, and he died.
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[ WP ] As it turned out , the dragons were the only thing keeping all the knights and princesses in check .
| It's been about 500 years since the last dragon died. Since then, things have kind of sucked.
The number of little lordships and kingdoms increased astronomically when there were n't dragons around to burn them to cinders. The knights got complacent when they no longer had to fight giant flaming death machines to curry favor with the frail princesses.
And the princesses? Oh god. You see, when there were dragons, being a Princess had romance. Maybe you'd be locked away in a tower, guarded by a dragon. Perhaps a dragon killed your father, and now you lamented his loss - there was a poetry to it. A knight would come to save you, and defeat that scaled beast, and you got married. Things were simpler. Things were better.
I'm princess Apple Alexandra Aardvark Alamentos the XXIII. We also ran out of names. Now, in the grand scheme of things, not much has changed. Technology has gotten better, people do n't die in childbirth all that often anymore, and dragon deaths are down by 100 %.
But, Knights still want to prove their worth to Princesses. Except it's all so damn boring. Here's me building a thing, or here's me pickin up all these weights, or man look how hairy I am - Where's the danger? What are you conquering? I ca n't just browse by the thousand!
You see, Knights have always outnumbered princesses, but before, dragons killed a bunch of Knights, so it all evened out. Now, it's up to us princesses to thin the herd.
My hero is Princess Sandoval Sugarcane Supperdish IX, she invited Knights over to a ball. It was opulent, a throne room lined with porcelain and gold, laid against the backdrop of the mountainous north. She served DIVINE food from the east, to die for, truly. But it was n't just a party! You see, it was actually a trap for the knights. At the stroke of midnight, the gorgeous princess poured gallons of tar into the ballroom, and lit the whole damn thing up. It was a smoky mess, a massacre. But, you see, she met her very crispy husband that day!
I've thought on this awhile. A Dragon, truly, is just another servant of a princess. Where a butler asks the question, `` What would you like?'' the dragon asks the question, `` Can a man be worthy without conquering certain death?''
And, as it always has been, the answer is no.
|
[ EU ] ISIS gets more than they bargained for when the kidnap Daily Planet reporter , Clark Kent .
| The report had n't resisted whatsoever. He hardly reacted at all. Almost like he *knew*. He offered to go quietly, even record propaganda messages once back at camp. He had only one condition for crossing the barricade once he and his press colleagues were surrounded: He would surrender himself, and the rest were free to leave. The deal was struck, and off he went, with his captors, for the long walk back to the extremists' camp.
Once there, he introduced himself. His name was Clark. He was a big man, but his meek attitude and slouching body language gave his presence a gentle warmth. He wore glasses, and he often seemed distracted. His eyes would flit about, sometimes resting on a blank spot of wall, and yet he would retain the look of someone thinking. He seemed to perceive while lacking attentiveness. There were things he could see or that the others could n't.
The interrogation began at sundown, and ended shortly after. Then it turned to a conversation. The reporter and his would-be torturer sat and spoke.
At dawn, after that understanding spread through the cell, Clark began another walk. Back to the press safe-zone.
About the time he reached the mouth of the cave system, the occupants inside were shocked at the sounds of pure chaos. Metal wrenching, crashes, explosions. They were certain they were being air-raided, and once the noises finally ceased, they rushed to inspect the recent events.
Every vehicle? Destroyed. Every mounted weapon? All ammunition? All destroyed.
Their search for survivors led them to find no one had died. Everyone on-site was either incapacited or bound with what rope was handy.
The most confusing part for the jihadists was that a few yards from the cave mouth, there lay a casual suit. It was the exact suit that Mr. Kent wore.
EDIT: This was my first ever attempt at a WP. IMO, it coulda been waaaaay better, but I wrote it half asleep. Thank you for the upvotes I actually got, though!
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[ WP ] You 've kept your immortality secret for thousands of years . Thats going to be a lot harder now that your on a generation ship on a 2000 year voyage .
| Ever since social security numbers were required for everything, it got hard to live life. Credit checks, jobs, everything.
So I came out. Media camped outside my apartment for a few days, well, slum, since life is hard without a number. But it died down after a while, although people recognized me every so often. A few even tried to worship me, and there were restraining orders for that. Made a little money volunteering for medical experiments before they simply gave up. Could n't figure it out.
And then I was conscripted to go on the generation ship. Had no choice, it was that or torture. Was for the obvious reasons, I could take greater risks, I would gain the most experience as the ship's parts slowly grind to dust from entropy in making sure the ship would keep functioning, and I would also be able to instill stability. So here I am, telling you folks why I'm here. I'm the Commander of this ship, and we can not have anarchy.
The sentence I pass is fair, they are to be spaced.
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[ WP ] Two minds , one body .
| [ Hey guys! This is just half of what I wrote, and just a tiny snippet of a much larger story I've been working on for quite some time... thought it fit this prompt perfectly. A bit late to the party, so- hope you enjoy! ]
-- -
`` Seven hundred fifty-thousand, cleared through seventeen separate shell corporations, each with a unique receipt for various services rendered. Per your instructions.''
Shali'nala stared at the duffel bags that were tossed at her feet, then shifted her weight from one foot to the other. A bored look crossed her face as she stared at elderly man. To either side stood his personal bodyguard. All it would take would be two quick flips of her wrist to send lethal darts into their necks before they could react, and she could take the money. Pushing back a few loose red strands of hair from her eyes, and burying that thought for later consideration, she reached out to shake the man's hands.
`` You've got yourself a dead police chief. To reiterate, we will never speak again.''
`` Of course, of course.'' He nodded, a grim smile on his face. `` The last thing I want to do is be on your bad side, Ms. Smith.''
`` I see you've done your homework then.'' She knelt down to unzip the bag, her eyes calculating with rapid pace the quantity even while she talked. `` I should hope that you also know what happens when I learn that I'm being set up, as well.''
The man gave a curt nod to the body on his left, who stepped back along with his partner. After a moment, he bent over to look her straight in the face. `` If there's one thing this city does n't have enough of, especially with the lower element, it's honor. But I am a man of my word. So long as you eliminate the head of the corruption that poisons this city's police force.''
She looked up at him - the unspoken threat was quite real. She did n't do well with threats. The desire to simply flip over to his back and bury a dagger straight into his jugular vein was growing rapidly, but again she quashed the thought into the darkest recesses of her mind. `` You found me. You hired me. Your target is already dead. That is all you need to know.''
`` I see. Then,'' he turned and began walking away. `` Our business is concluded.''
She waited for him to climb into his helicopter, staring after it as it roared into the sky and disappeared behind the mountains. The desert was already growing cold. She bit her lip as she walked over to a small patch of ground that was just a little bit different color from the rest. Tapping her pointed heel twice on the edge of the hidden plate brought the silent whir of machinery springing to life as another plate slid behind her. She dropped the bags effortless into the hidden conveyor, watching them disappear underground just long enough for the plate to slide back over them again. She felt something poking at the back of her mind, more insistent than ever.
Shali'nala sighed. It was best to get this over with as quickly as possible. She drew a small mirror from one of the leather side pouches at her waist, then flipped it open. She closed her eyes for a moment as hundreds of years of meditation lent their expertise, and after a moment she opened them. Instead of her reflection, which is what the old man would've seen if he were anywhere nearby, she was now staring at the face of a man. Well, that was n't accurate; the pointed chin, the red searing eyes, the extremely short black hair, and that unmistakable snarl made him more like a demon, than a man. He growled audibly, and she rolled her emerald eyes in response.
`` Why did n't you do it! He was right there! He was even stupid enough to send his goons off! You had the money already, and you had him in the palm of your hand... and you let him get away!''
`` Nala, we've been over this before.'' She sighed, running her nails through her hair in exasperation. `` We ca n't just kill our clients willy-nilly. You remember that little snafu you caused back in Venezuela?''
The face in the mirror suddenly grinned, but it never reached its eyes. `` Ah, that was such artwork, such a masterpiece of intricate efforts. To think that someone so young could be full of so much... *blood*.''
She grimaced. `` She was only four years old, and she was the daughter of my best friend. We were n't there to cause a mess or a fuss, and you had no right to do what you did.''
`` Oh but I did, my dear.'' That sick, oily voice that only Shali could hear made her gut wrench in disgust. `` All these precious lives belong to me, and me alone. Such a waste you chose to'meditate' your way into oblivion while I performed my great work.''
`` Yeah, and when I came to, her arm was in the bathtub, her leg was in the sink, and you put her face on the mantle. I mean, you took that quiet little villa and turned into a bloodbath! I spent a week scrubbing my fingers just to get the blood stains out!''
`` And it was so delicious!'' The quiet night was broken by the sound of a mad cackle. `` So, so delicious!''
Shali'nala bristled. `` Enough! I give you what you want, I give you the blood you desire, but only if we play by my rules. No innocents, and no freelancing. Got it?''
The dark figure shrugged. `` The illusion of self-control. We've been together for what, fifteen hundred years now? You'd think that a prissy little princess of the most powerful kingdom in the universe would be more open to grand adventures!'' The voice grew sarcastic. `` Oh, that's right, your poor little world was destroyed so long ago, was n't it? Such a shame... a lost alien princess all by herself on a backwards world like this. Such a tragedy..''
She scoffed at that, feeling her grip growing tighter on the mirror. `` Do n't think I do n't regret you every day. My father did n't raise me to be a murderer like you.''
Quick as a flash, a dagger was pulled from one of the seventy two hidden locations on her outfit and pressed sharply against her neck. She stared at it out of the corner of her eyes.
`` And do n't you think that I would n't kill you now if I thought it would amuse me.''
She hissed. `` So what're you going to do? End it now?''
After a moment, her arm relaxed and slid the dagger back into the hidden pocket it came from. `` Oh, that would be too easy. I much prefer your internal torture as you struggle to maintain the facade of innocence you lost so long ago.''
She sighed, rubbing at the blood trickling down the side of her throat irritably. `` Are you done then? We've got work to do.''
The figure stared at her before it slowly faded away, but the voice was strong as ever. `` Just so you remember who's in charge here. If it were n't for me, you would've faded into the annals of history long ago, my *dear* Shaiari.''
Shali'nala sighed softly as the image faded, then flipped the mirror closed. Casting one last glance around to make sure no one had heard this one-sided conversation, she tapped her foot on the other end of the hidden plate, watching it flip open to reveal the stairs beneath. `` No, Nala, I have n't forgotten. And I have n't forgiven.'' She descended down into the stairs, listening carefully for the sound of hidden gears turning that would close the entrance to her lair.
`` Not now.. and not ever.''
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[ WP ] `` All the victims were found with a chess piece on their person ... ''
| `` All the victims were found with a chess piece on their person,'' Chief Dickerson announces for all the press to hear. Hehehe, I said Erson! `` If anyone in the community has any information concerning these murders, please call our toll-free hotline at --'' blah blah blah. I close my notebook and turn back to beat the crowd out the door. All the good information's already been gone, and then it'll be on to the second and third most important people to speak, and so on...
`` Where ya goin', Pratt?''
I look back, and immediately regret it. It's Robert Duval, of the Haven News Network. He's smirking at me, which is illegal in my book. Only I get to smirk with my own self-imposed sense of superiority to my fellow press dickheads.
`` You know,'' I say to Robert under the microphone-enhanced speech being given by Mr. Second-in-Importance, `` there's privelege in being the backpage hack, and I'm invoking it.''
`` Do n't you want to hear more about the Chess Murders?'' he asks, and I can hear the capitalization in his voice. `` Strange stuff is right up your alley, I thought? Why, whenever are n't you fighting off ancient wiggaboos and demons and other crap?''
`` That's just my night job,'' I say, waving. `` Speaking of... ciao!''
I turn and leave, and have to wander around a bit to find a warm, empty room to make my mandatory phone call to the editor.
`` Yes? Hey, Chiefo!'' I say into the phone. `` Chess-related murders. Exciting! Seems he's worked his way through the pawns and going for -- What? Why? I've always favored the Rook.... Seriously?'' I sigh. `` Fine.''
Not my beat anymore. That was enough for the backpages, and my editor thought it was no longer my responsibility, since this was, you know, super-serious front page news! I do n't get to play on the front page, but I do get to play at night.
So, with my job done for the day, I make another phone call, this time to my contact and representative for the werewolves of Haven, Sergeant Gregor.
`` So,'' I say when he picks up with an ever-lovely,'What is it now, Pratt?', `` Each pawn in these murders is one of these new-age vampire kids, right?''
`` Dead on,'' Gregor replies with his usual gruff voice, now sorta bored and sorta not. This was inching into Facade territory, I could almost smell it as well as Gregor's Were nose could.
`` So, who would be a Rook? A base of operations, you think?''
`` What I'm thinking,'' Gregor says. `` I do n't play much chess, but rooks *are* castles.''
`` Bishops? Knights? Queens? King?''
`` The converter would be a bishop. Or the'recruiter' as the vamps like to say.''
`` And knights would be a fighter, would n't he? A hitman?''
`` Probably.''
`` So, queens? Kings?''
`` Whoever is running this new vamp operation, I'm sure.''
`` And who is that?'' I asked.
`` Guess the both of us will have to find that out.''
Greattt...
`` What's your mind, Pratt? Who dies next?'' Gregor asks. `` And why?''
`` You know what I'm thinking, Gregor.''
`` Butchers.''
`` Yup. Good'ol vamp territory war. Have n't seen one of those since the 1800's.''
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[ WP ] A FBI agent checks Reddit and finds out a secret he 's been guarding has been turned into a Writing Prompt .
| He opened up the screen and could n't believe his eyes. Someone had posted a `` story'' as a writing prompt on reddit. Skimming through the story he sighted with relief. None of them went into any details of the tattoo which he had on his arm. Or the most recent one, on his heart. He knew he was totally screwed. Anubis want going to be happy.
That night as he lay in bed waiting for the inevitable, black smoke once again filled the room.
`` Who did you tell about the tattoos?'' The head of a jackel glared at him from the corner.
`` I did n't tell anyone, honest!'' He whimpered quietly.
`` Find out who `` made up this tale, and kill them''
As the smoke dispersed, he jumped out of bed and bid low to the floor. `` Yes master''
Not being able to sleep, he snapped his computer on and went back to the post.
As he read the user name of the poster he could n't believe it. A lump caught in his throat as he tried to choke down the bile and fear rising in him.
`` Dr. Simms & Mr Hyde''
He knew now that nothing could save him from What was about to come.
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[ WP ] You live in a world where people can see their own health bar . The maximum is 100/100 HP . You wake up one morning and find it is steadily increasing..
| The transparent bar of health at the edge of my vision stood out to me upon waking up. It always did.
40/100 HP
It was painful. Seeing your life slowly drain away, each birthday acting as a millstone of your impending death. I was always aware of the finiteness of life, but visualizing it, having it hung over your head like a sword of Damocles was something I could n't take, something most people could n't take. Suicide rates increased rapidly since the implementation of the HP system. The ones responsible, the World Government did n't care, only intervening when an an anomaly was detected in one of their pawns.
I planned to follow their footsteps, I planned to end it all. Not now, but soon. I did n't really have anything to live for. My wife killed in a government raid, kids taken under the guise of infectious decease. Suicide would give me some freedom, the control of my own being that I've longed for since I was young.
A movement in the corner of my vision caught my eye.
50/100 HP
The sword moved further away from my neck, yet the constriction increased. I was going to be killed or imprisoned. An anomaly in the system was never tolerated.
I flew out of the bed, sheets sailing across the room. A searing pain shot through my aged bones. I ignored it. I ran into the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and prepared to drive it into my neck. My movements seized, and the obligatory portpad in the living room began to glow.
60/100 HP
It crescendoed in a flash of light, transparent, like the bar that rested in the corner of my vision.
70/100 HP
Out from the sheen of light came soldiers. Three. Dressed in army gear, guns held at their side.
I did n't notice the change in my appearance, my overall strength, left only with autonomy of mind.
80/100 HP
What I did notice was the change in stature. My field of vision lowered as my HP increased.
They didnt bother drawing their weapons as they stormed the kitchen, instead deciding to grab me, my body molding to their will, almost as if I was the only one not in control.
90/100
Hahaah. Shiny gun mans. Hahaha. Slipped out they hands. HHAAHA.
Whats that pointy thing that you stuck in of me shiny ma-
100/100
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[ WP ] write a bedtime story that ensures no one is going to get any sleep .
| ( Not a bed time story, but I certainly do n't get any sleep because of this. )
It used to be easier. Dealing with it, I mean. We all have those nagging thoughts. Reminders of our own mortality. Doubts of our importance. But I have a family! I have a good job! I'm important! None of us are. The only thing we can do is struggle to achieve mediocrity in a world where we are our own executioners. We work to achieve something in life, but we push the plow right into our own graves. That's why we've surrounded ourselves with so much technology. Who has time to think about their own problems when their noses are stuck in a phone? Browsing reddit, watching videos on youtube... No one allows the silence in their mind to take over. Not until they close their eyes. The silence is deafening. Maddening. All those fears and feelings rush to the surface, and my eyes snap open again. My heart is breaking. My eyes tearing. Each night I fight that demon. It only comes to me when my eyes are closed. It is my inevitability. It is slowly killing me. And the only reason I have n't offed myself is the uncertainty of the void. So I wait. And I close my eyes.
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[ WP ] Make me emotionally invested in a character within 250 words .
| `` She is so pretty'' Jack sighed.
`` Here we go...'' said Charlie a annoyed. `` Just ask her out already''
`` I do n't think she knows I exists. Besides, I have to finish preparing this computer for the
new guy, and I got a lot of work.'' Replied Jack trying to look busy.
Charlie stood up, walked over to Jack ’ s desk.
`` If you have so much work why are you browsing Reddit? For fucks sake man I will get the computer ready, stop making excuses and GO ASK HER OUT.'' Charlie said while taking to his desk.
`` Fine.'' Jack replied.
Jack stood up, and started sweating.
`` How do I look?'' Jack asked
`` Dude... just go already.'' Replied Charlie
Jack started walking towards Denise's. He was trying to look as casual as possible, which meant he looked awkward.
`` Hi'' Jack said.
`` Hello'' Denise replied smiling.
`` I was wondering...'' Jack felt the knot in his stomach tighten. `` Would you like to go eat sometime... outside, or something?'' Jack stumbled with the words.
`` I'm sorry, I have a lot of work and a meeting in 5 minutes.'' Denise replied hastily.
Denise took a piece of paper wrote something and gave it to Jack.
`` Here is my number. Call me around 6.'' She smiled and left towards the elevator.
Jack slowly walked towards his desk while staring at the piece of paper.
`` Dude'' Said Charlie.
Jack looked up just to find Charlie smiling with his hand raised.
Jack smiled and gave him a well-earned high five.
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[ WP ] The Grim Reaper ( or equivalent ) talking a Suicidal Person down .
| `` Do n't do it.'' The young man paused, one foot off of the ledge and stared over to see, impossibly, inconceivably, a figure standing next to him on a skinny little ledge nine stories above the streets of Vienna. The figure was sharply dressed and smiling gently, seeming perfectly at ease ninety feet above the streets.
`` Who are you?'' The young man was frightened, he shuffled away from the figure, worried that he might try to grab him away from his peace.
`` Do n't worry about that.'' The figure said and lit a cigarette with an old heavy brass lighter, there is a skull etched into the side and though it is very windy up o the ledge the flame never so much as wavers. `` What matters is that you do n't jump, you've got a lot ahead of you.'' The young man blinked and then shook his head slowly, a sad little smile half formed on his face.
`` You do n't know me, I've failed. I tried to do what I wanted but just... could n't, they wo n't let me.'' A dark flash of anger crossed the young man's face for an instant before being replaced by the sorrow. The figure nodded and stepped closer, easily, gracefully, as if the ledge was merely part of a wider avenue. This time the young man did n't try to move away.
`` You're proving them right then, by jumping.'' The young man looked at the figure angrily, then shook his head and looked back down at the streets below, a truck sputtered and passed below.
`` Who the fuck are you anyways?'' The figure puffed delicately on his cigarette and in that moment, with the light illuminating his face the young man saw that the figure's face was disquietingly skeletal.
`` A neighbor. I've been watching you for a while now... then again these days I seem to be watching everyone.'' The young man was looking at the figure now, little flashes of apprehension crossing his face.
`` Watching me?''
`` Yes. I saw you when you spoke of wanting to become an architect or a painter with your friends in the park down there. I saw you when you finished your first work and I even saw you when you were turned away from your dream and onto this ledge. I am watching you now and yet I do not see you in a splash of red on that street below, I see great things in the future for you.'' The young man blinked.
`` I do n't... what do you want from me?''
`` I want you not to jump. We'll meet again, some time in the future, but that meeting is not yet here, so climb back into that window you came out of and go live.'' The last word was unfamiliar on the figure's tongue but he managed it anyways. The young man nodded slowly and then gripped the window frame, looking back in at the cozy lights and warm interior of the room that he had just left.
But even as he turned in he turned back to ask the figure his name, but the ledge was empty and so the young man climbed back in to his room and shut the window, and from the aether the figure nodded in quiet satisfaction.
Adolf Hitler would go on living and would bring many people in with him when that final meeting did come. That seemed to be an adequate tradeoff for a few minutes of effort.
|
[ WP ] A man with a seemingly useless superpower finds a surprisingly effective use for it .
| In a place with teleporters, firebreathers, and other cool powers, I was at the bottom. I was a master with probability. I could look at a coin and tell you which side it would land on. I could guess which card you would pull out of a deck of 100. I did n't realize the potential for my power until I got in a fight a couple days before with someone a lot stronger than me. He was strong, and you cant exactly fight someone who can control electricity. I won anyway. You see, probability is actually pretty useful when it lets you accurately predict someone's every move. No one can ambush you if you know they're going to attack. Years later, I moved up in the world to a tactician in the Army due to my ability. I was a runt in the beginning, but now I was an expert. Who can win against someone who knows all?
|
[ WP ] You fart at the worst possible time .
| The moon rose far and swift, floating out of our sight in a matter of minutes; we were undeniably in night three of quarantine.
Supplies had been brought in by canary-clad CDC workers every six hours, to make sure the ten of us did not starve, dehydrate, or go insane. The suits they wore seemed bulkier and denser than the typical attire I had seen in the news or on TV during scary viral outbreaks; I guess that meant whatever we were looking at probably having was real damn bad.
We had a doctor with us, Dr. Herman, a lovely lady with several degrees and thousands of hours logged on the frontlines of things like Ebola, Rotavirus, Hantavirus, and Dengue fever. She was doing a lot of tests in with us because she was kissed by her freshly-infected husband before he came in to lunch at *my* diner, passing on his magnificent CDC-bred mystery plague.
The other people were holding up okay. The girls cried, the guys held back tears watching the girls cry, I cooked up patty melts and fried eggs and onion rings.
Now, night three, Dr. Herman called us all to the children's play area she had sanitized. She said she had some bizarre chemical mixture that would signal if the disease was somethingsomethingsomething or somethingsomethingsomething-else. She just needed to get a little blood from everyone on a tray, pour the chemical in, and pray that none of the viscous globs started smelling like sulphur.
My stomach gurgled, loud as hell. *Everyone's* stomachs gurgled. It was stressful, so we all looked at our stomachs and laughed.
I did n't laugh. I knew my stomach meant business, and business was going to happen fast; I held tight.
I almost lost control of my wind when the scalpel bit at me, adding my blood to the lineup. I took a step back and tried to silently release a bit of the pressure building. *Success! * Silent gaseous expulsion in such a time of stressful crisis is an impressive feat, if I do say so myself.
The chemical dripped into the droplets of blood, and Dr. Herman hovered over them intensely. She glared down at them, *daring* them to set off the chemical reaction that would seal our fate as damned. Her nostrils flared and she stood suddenly, flinging the tray at a window with a wet clatter.
The consequences of my actions hit me as she burst from the room and yelled out to the officials waiting beyond. Guns appeared over the barricades that had popped up around my restaurant; the consequences of my actions hit me, again, with exponentially more oomph.
Several small fires began crackling around the perimeter of my fresh remodel, and I, with my unfortunate fellows, dropped to my knees and wept.
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[ WP ] You open your eyes in bed . On the ceiling right in front of your eyes , there 's a piece of paper stuck on it . It says , `` Run . ''
| RUN. Big, garish red letters, scrawled in a slightly skewed, unkempt script on a ripped piece of lined notepad paper, taped to the ceiling above my bed. RUN.
I groaned and took a deep breath. Not this shit again. I shook my head, once, twice, but the paper remained above me, looming, like the afterburn you get in your eyes from looking too directly at the sun.
I shut my eyes and paused.
One, two, three, four. Inhale. One, two, three, four. Exhale. I felt some tension leave my body but there was still an edge there, lingering at the corners of myself. The anxiety never left. I opened my eyes. RUN. Fuck.
I looked more closely at the tape used to secure the paper to the ceiling and turned my head slowly to the left, my gaze tracking down the wall and onto my bedside table before resting on the roll of cellotape sat on it. It looked like it had been mauled by a rat. I ran my tongue over my teeth and found bits of tape stuck to the front of them. Clearly I didn ’ t have the time to find scissors last night.
There was a half-empty glass of vodka next to the tape and a nearly-fully-empty bottle next to that. The usual shit, then. Get home from work, depressed, hit the bottle a little too hard, panic about my life and my future, convince myself that I need to escape from it all, and try to devise a way to remind myself in the morning. The notes on the ceiling were an interesting new development. I had to hand it to my drunk self: he was creative.
I pursed my lips and blew, hard, trying to detach the note from the ceiling. It ruffled but didn ’ t dislodge. I groaned again. The hungover weight of my arms and legs and body and head and heart made moving a significant effort but I managed to heave myself to my knees, on my bed, and reach up to grab the note. I missed at first but on the second attempt snatched it in my fingers and fell back to the bed in a heap, relieved. I exhaled, heavily.
Looking at the note, I saw something scrawled on the back in the same drunken handwriting.
*I ’ m just calling because I think I need some help*
*I wondered if you knew any ways I could feel better? *
*It ’ s not been a good few weeks and I don ’ t really know what to do*
*Help me*
*I ’ m drowning*
*Please*
There was a number at the bottom of the page. I recognised it as the Samaritans helpline. There was something deeply, darkly amusing about my need for a script when calling to ask for help. Some sad irony about feeling anxiety so intense you couldn ’ t even express it.
I picked up my phone from the same bedside table, next to the glass, and the bottle, and the tape, and thumbed through it until I found my boss ’ s number. I took a quick swig of the warm vodka and grimaced before hitting the dial button. The ringing, bright and sunny in the dark twilight of my curtained room, clattered around my head and grew, filling me. Until it stopped.
“ Hello? ”
“ Hi, Claire. It ’ s Sam. I don ’ t think I ’ ll be in today. Or tomorrow, for that matter. Actually - I do n't think I'll ever be in again. ”
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[ WP ] A writer realises that they 're a character in the story of another writer
| Her eyes linger on the burnt-out remnants of her manuscript. The flames had long since guttered and died, ravenously destroying the body of her work. A black, forlorn scar had been charred into the floor around the manuscript, which was now crisp and fragile as pale autumn leaves.
*How did it come to this? *
She mused on her question, the fingers of her once-dominant hand stroking the bottle of what she called inspiration nestled in her lap. Whatever neatness her room — and indeed, the same could be said of her home, or of her life — had once known was desperately absent. With eyes wide open she scoured the room for detail, hungrily searching for every nuance and font of description.
*How would I describe this? Written into words, given life with ink? * Her eyes lingered on her now-broken computer across the room. *How would he? * She remembered her panic, her raving mania, and wondered at how the fragments of screen and circuitry that now surrounded the technological corpse looked so stark, so empty and devoid of life.
*Am I so different? *
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[ WP } A religious man learns that God is n't real , but Satan is .
| “ Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name, ” the priest solemnly spoke as the man ’ s breathing became staggered. “ Thy kingdom come, thy will be done… ” To the man, the priest ’ s voice sounded more and more distant, and as it became a whisper, the man felt he was somewhere besides his hospital bed. “ …As it is in Heaven. ”
Upon opening his eyes, the rosary beads still clutched within his fist, he found himself in a familiar place. Sun light projected through the stained glass mosaics, and the pews, though empty, relieved the man of his apprehensions. The Bibles aligned in each row had not been replaced since his childhood. He was in the House of the Lord. The man felt assured that this was Heaven, so he approached the sanctuary, drawn to the crucifixion above the altar. Sensing the coming presence of his creator, he fell to his knees and began to pray.
Through the man ’ s closed eyes, he was jarred by a brilliant flame. The heat forced him to retreat to the protection of the front pew. The man stared in awe of the burning crucifix, and even more so, at the silhouette of the dark figure approaching him. “ You have prayed, you have eaten the body and drank the blood, you have confessed sins, and you have denounced the beliefs of others in the name of your God. Your actions were all in vain. ”
“ Forgive me, my God. How can I repent? ” the man ’ s quivering voice pleaded.
As the flames grew brighter, the charred face and spiraling horns became visible. Without hesitation, the man threw his rosary into the flames, mindlessly following his new Savior down the center isle of the church, believing he would achieve salvation.
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[ WP ] In a world where killing someone means you gain the victim 's lifespan , you are an executioner who has served great leaders for thousands of years .
| Nobody knew how it had started, though there were legends that it had not always been this way. Most legends told of a warrior king who wished to rule for eternity, though the methods he is said to have done it by differ from legend to legend. Some said he had made a pact with dark forces from the between spaces, drifting outside of life and death. Some say that he had brought magicians from around the neighboring kingdoms, and still others that he had found a powerful mystical artifact.
Personally, I believed the last of those, but not in the way the legends described as something that he would wear on his person. Whatever the cause, the ancient king had discovered a way to take from those killed by his hand the life they had remaining. It is said he thought himself invincible right until he felt the assassin's blade slide past his ribs into his lung, before a second found his heart.
The assassin was killed attempting to escape, though they had made it a surprising distance given their wounds, but the palace guards on the battlements had blotted out the sky on that overcast day, raining arrows into the courtyard over the killers body. There was so little left that a massive brazier was set up in the center of the courtyard where the assassin had fell, the body was burned, and a permanent fire was started.
Some of these details are fudged from one legend to another, with each getting some right, and each getting some wrong, but memory of the events holds the truth. It had been 3612 years since that day, and it was not long after that that it was discovered that killing another gave a rush of life, though most did n't notice as they were doing so as an act of murder or in the throes of battle.
It was the palace executioner who first truly noticed, and mentioned the feeling to the high priests of the temple, where they were able to confirm similar feelings from those who had seen battle or been forced to kill intruders in the palace. This strange phenomenon was called pulling from the void, or just pulling void for short, as the priests thought that the extended lifespan came from stealing life across the barrier of the between, but the heresy pulling the void quickly faded.
I reminisced for the first time in many years about that day as I stood over the prisoner. He had oily hair and a look about him that suggested he was fit, but poorly groomed, a look common among the poor who worked the quarries and docks doing hard labor for days. He had been brought forward for execution for murdering one of the quarry masters in a dispute over his wages, though as a man with no family to speak of and working as little as he did, he was paid as well as the rest.
His eyes had a hard edge to them as he stared with hate at the king, before my blade slashed his throat, draining the essence of his life onto the cobbles. As the light died in his eyes, he attempted to spit in the king's direction and instead only managed to soil his own shirt. When he was near death, the king nodded and I slid my blade into his heart, ending his life.
The family of the quarry master wept silently while the crowd slowly dispersed, nobody wishing to see the next part of the punishment, as the body was hoisted up and placed into the brazier built all those centuries ago. To have one's body burned immediately after death was to destroy the soul of the dead, casting what fragments remained to the between spaces for eternal agonies.
It had actually been only in the last hundred years or so that I had returned to the kingdom of my birth, and while much had changed, including nearly every aspect of the palace, the brazier remained the same. With our duties for the day completed, I cleaned my tools and trudged back to my quarters. While I was technically lodged in the barracks with the rest of the palace guards, my quarters were private, separated from the common soldiers by the station I had as the Royal executioner.
As I entered the barracks, intent on getting to my room directly to put away my tools, my shoulder was grabbed from behind. I stared into the eyes of Gurald, the captain of the Royal guard, as he held my shoulder before he spoke. `` Meet us in the hall later for a drink, I know executions are usually messy affairs, with the sobbing family and busy crowds. The lads and I are celebrating the end of the year, and Jotham brought up that that was your 100th execution for the palace.'' He smiled at me as he said this, not knowing that it was a reminder of just how many lives I had ended in this place, or the weight that pulling the void on that many souls felt like.
I responded with a noncommittal grunt and he just told me that he would send one of the lads around to fetch me if I was n't there. I finally nodded before continuing down the corridor to my room. While not as lavish as the quarters of Gurald, my quarters were private, and afforded me a place to store my affects privately.
I placed the blade that I used in the small rack kept near the cot that I slept on and sat heavily on the end of it. Through the centuries, I had learned a great deal more than most about pulling the void from someone as they died. One of the kings from the far east had been a scholar and had encouraged me to take notes on my experiences as his executioner, through those had been lost a few years later when a rival army had sacked the city and burned the palace to the ground.
While he did not know it at the time, and I had scarcely knew it myself either, having me slide my blade into his heart to prevent the enemy from torturing him had been a boon to both of us. While I had escaped out of the window and down the side of the burning palace walls, the old man lay dead with an enemy blade in his back. While I had left the kingdom quickly, the news that came abroad a few years later told that the enemy King had finally been assassinated, thanks to numerous attempts on his life from the people's that had hated his murder of the wise King that had ruled before.
I was snapped out of my reverie by Jotham's voice as he called out to me. `` Get over here you bastard, the captain's waiting and he wo n't be happy if you make the lads wait much longer for the celebration to start either. There are even rumors that he has some of the girls from the brothel for additional entertainment tonight.'' Light shown in his eyes at this possibility and I put my brooding aside. `` Fine, let's be going, otherwise he will just send another of you whelps to bother me'' I said as I cuffed him on the shoulder.
We strode down the corridor with purpose, intent on arriving before the best wine was gone and the prettiest girls spoken for. We arrived just before the whores from the brothel, and the doubling of the cheer at our entrance made more sense when I felt the slender arms wrap around my arm. Captain Gurald waved his hands to shoo the woman off of me as he brought me forward, calling out to the men. `` Tonight we toast our honored guest, who has been honorably meting out the king's justice since he joined us, and has today performed his 100th execution!'' A roar rose up from the gathered soldiers while the cask of wine that had been set in the corner of the room was opened.
More cheers rose as the women began serving wine around the tables and the captain continued. `` To all you lads, both those that have been here since the king was a boy and those that are still boys themselves, let us raise a toast to...'' My name died on his lips as he noticed new members of the guard filing into the room...
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[ WP ] Tell me how you accidentally saved the world .
| They told me that I saved the world, and I do n't really know how I did it.
The week before, I'd just started working at my new job. The whole business seemed pretty shady to me. I'd get paid $ 10,000 a week to deliver large crates to a warehouse right next to the bay, in the sleaziest part of town, no questions asked. As part of my `` job'', I'd also have to wear a face-concealing mask and all-black clothing. The crates I delivered were all at least 10 feet tall, and marked with big yellow and black warning signs. WARNING: RADIOACTIVE, they all said.
I did my job best I could, though I always felt nervous around my `` coworkers'', if you could call them that. All wore the same mask I did, the same black clothes. Hardly any of them ever said a word to me. We all did the same job, like ants. I felt like I was working for the mafia, but even the mafia would probably be more talkative than these guys.
Then, yesterday, I did my job as usual. Or, at least, I tried. As my coworkers and I began unloading the first crate, we heard deep, booming laughter come from inside the warehouse.
A bald man with a goatee dressed in a long black cloak was the source. He stood in front of a small podium that was mostly bare save for a large, glowing red button in the center. A massive cannon stood in the center of the warehouse, pointing at the open skylight. Scattered around it were some of the crates, opened and empty.
In front of him was another man dressed in a white suit, strapped to a table, a massive floor-mounted laser cannon thing pointed at his head.
`` Now, you see, Con Shaunnery, you are powerless to stop me!'' the cloaked man bellowed dramatically.
`` I doubt that you have the final say in that matter, Dr. Silvertoe,'' the man in the suit responded with a hint of flair in his voice as well.
`` We'll see about that,'' the cloaked man, apparently Dr. chuckled to himself. `` Now,'' he paused, seemingly for dramatic effect, `` when I press this button, Mr. Shaunnery, tonnes upon tonnes of radioactive dust will be launched into the atmosphere, blanketing the earth and poisoning millions! And there is nothing you can do to stop me!''
Dr. Silvertoe mashed the button on the console down with a huge grin on his face. Con Shaunnery's eyes widened in surprise.
Nothing happened for a minute. My coworkers and I set down the crate we'd been carrying. They must have been as shocked as I was.
Then, the laser cannon swiveled with a mechanical groan, and pointed a few feet below Con Shaunnery's crotch. The laser started up, and began slowly making its way upwards.
`` Oh, bugger all, not this again,'' Con Shaunnery mumbled, sounding more than a little pissed.
`` Just kidding!'' Dr. Silvertoe smiled his massive grin again. `` Did you really think I'd end it that quickly?'' He pulled a small remote from the folds of his cloak. `` This is the real one.'' All eyes in the room were set on him. The men I'd worked with stood with their jaws dropped, and they all seemed to have the same thought on their minds. *How in the world did I end up working for a supervillain? *
`` Aw, cor,'' Shaunnery said, disgusted. `` I fell for the old switcheroo, did n't I?''
`` Now,'' Dr. Silvertoe boomed, louder than ever, `` watch! Watch as I wreak havoc across the globe!'' He pressed the button on the remote, dramatic as ever. Nothing happened.
He stared at the remote. He mashed the button a few times. Still, nothing happened. The laser continued to make its way up towards Shaunnery's crotch, but Dr. Silvertoe hit the podium button and it stopped. Shaunnery breathed a near silent breath of relief.
`` No, I have to have both cannons firing at the same time! It's all part of the plan! My greatest nemesis, sawed in half while my evil plan came into effect! Damnit all, why is n't this blasted remote working?! You there!'' Dr. Silvertoe gestured angrily at me. `` Get over here, and tell me why this damned thing is n't working!''
I blinked, and he continued to gesture at me, so I half-ran, half-jogged over to him. He shoved the remote into my hands.
`` Tell me why this is n't working. I ca n't read this blasted code, this damned new-fangled technology... I need to know NOW!'' he shouted at me.
I stared at the remote. It had a screen flashing all sorts of different error messages and a glowing red button next to a small keyboard.
`` Uh...'' My mind drew a blank. I had no idea what to say. `` It says...''
`` What? What does it say, man? Tell me now!''
`` Uh, it says you should'delete sys_32'.''
`` Really?'' he asked. I handed him back the remote. He stared at it before handing it back to me.
I fiddled with it for a little bit, deleting sys_32, and then I told him, `` Uh, yeah. Should work now.''
The remote's screen went blank and refused to come back on. I handed it back to Dr. Silvertoe, and he stared at the screen, horrified.
`` What have you done?!'' he screamed.
I shrugged.
Dr. Silvertoe could only watch in horror as his scheme fell apart at the seams. Shaunnery was able to escape from his bonds using the distraction, and the National Guard, the Army, the Navy, and the Coast Guard all showed up to arrest Dr. Silvertoe. My'coworkers' were taken in for questioning.
I was hailed as the hero of the day by the media. They spun tales of my bravery, how I'd wrenched the remote from Dr. Silvertoe's hands and disarmed it, saving millions. In reality, all I'd done was deleted sys_32. I did n't really have the heart to tell anyone otherwise.
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[ WP ] Give me the story behind your desktop wallpaper
| They say do not judge a book by its cover. Yet, a time may soon come where books would no longer even have covers. Will that change to do not judge a book by its synopsis? Its website? Its first page?
Bygone is also the time when writers used pens, pencils and physical writing, or at least it is soon to be. Almost all prefer the freedom and the speed of a keyboard, at least for as long as we do not run out of fossil fuel which powers most of our energy needs directly or indirectly.
Every writer has a computer nowadays, be it desktop or portable. Every computer has a desktop. But does every desktop have a wallpaper? Why do we feel like we need to have a wallpaper? Why must a wallpaper reflect who we are or be connected to us?
I feel empty on the inside, lost, undecided, much like anyone observing our times. To listen to the media is to be misinformed, to ignore the media is to be uninformed. A melancholy of a lose-lose situation in a complete truth blackout. Truth is lost in utter blackness, never to be easily found, and so is my heart. All my heart sees is darkness, all my mind knows is blank, even my wallpaper; it is simply nothing.
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[ OT ] Let 's talk about what you 've learned .
| It takes too long to do a novel. I respond here and at that other writing prompt sub because it's nice to have an idea, explore it as you can in twenty minutes, and then leave it alone. The idea can be any genre, too, which is good because I can usually only stick with genre fiction for a long time and I need to experiment with realism or at least [ magical ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/promptoftheday/comments/1fb3bv/phantom_limb_text/ca8o5au ) realism sometimes. It's especially nice because I can jump between tones and genres at different prompts really easily instead of trying to stay comedic or grimdark or horror for hundreds of pages. In, out, easy.
That said, the more I do this the more I realize how terrible I am at leaving it alone. I've connected what seems like half of my responses to other bits of flash fiction. It's a neat exercise in trying to make a coherent miniature story that also advances some larger plot/world, or to try and answer two or three different prompts from the same week with the [ same ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/promptoftheday/comments/1kduks/text_to_be_yourself_in_a_world_that_is_constantly/cbpe2qn ) story.
I should do another one with Etta and Shib.
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[ WP ] A group of friends meet up with each other every hundred years . One is immortal , one is reincarnated into a new body every time they die , one is a time traveler , one is a robot , and one is Death .
| While walking over stones,
I stumbled upon a memory;
Hanging by the riverside within
Sights in a summer reverie.
I settled down on a boulder
While the others were away,
Looking down at the minute hand
And'our hand ( s ), in steady dismay.
Then, I'd say......
`` For men may come and men may go but I go on forever; so I ll probably survive the sun.''... A while later.... The one on the right said, `` I might still turn out to be you, you or you and you at least once. Do n't be too sure to forget that I can always be one of you.''
Just then, a man arrives at the gathering and panting he said, `` I already told myself yesterday about what you all might be bickering about. And I find it rather persevering to see that things are still the same.''
Almost immediately another man then awakened from a stupor replied, `` I have been told to find the correlation between what you all say and what I can possibly say any one of the zillion times that I have already said those things in my head.''
And to that, a shadow of a very old man sighed, `` I ca n't kill myself just yet. Ya'll still got some time left on my clock.''
....I had hoped it would n't be
The same old prayer in the dirge.
The same old pallbearers,
Carrying my hearse on the verge
Of my dreaming of mortality.
....I had hoped it would n't be
Someone so new and aloof.
Alienated in another's fresh
With blood as water on the roof
Of my wishing for identity.
....I had hoped it would n't be
So easy to move across thoughts
And actions like in a maze
Of the consequences I have bought
While bargaining for reality.
....I had hoped it would n't be
Another day in paradise
Wandering through the joy
Of a million blind eyes,
A judgement awaiting cruelty.
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[ WP ] Two Medieval kingdoms are on the verge of going to war . Both kings ' official translators are trying to stop it .
| King Lionel approaches over the horizon on his horse, escorted by two other cavalry, one of them his translator. The translator gets off his horse and you greet him ( you being the translator for Sir Richard and all, the two of you talk allot )
Sir Richard frowns at you and furrows his brows at Lionel. `` Lionel,'' He starts in English. `` Looking round as ever, you sweaty, ignorant pig.'' You and the translator are both taken aback. The two never liked each other, but *damn* that was cold.
`` Look,'' The translator whispers. `` I'm a cavalryman on the side, and I happen to like my head firmly planted on my shoulders! So help me out here.''
`` You do n't need to convince me.'' You whisper. `` If I'm being honest, our kingdom would n't stand a chance'' The two of you laugh heartily, and your respective kings stare you down.
`` If you're done over there, tell Lionel he's fat and sweaty already!''
`` Lionel,'' You translate. `` Sir Richard says you are looking very... healthy! Like you just finished a hard workout.''
Lionel smirks, gets off his horse, and walks up to Richard. `` I know you fuck horses, Ritchie! And with a wife like yours, I do n't blame you!'' He says in Spanish, then spits.
`` Lionel, erm, admires the way you have with your steed. So much it makes him salivate!'' The translator lies. Richard looks to you, and you simply shrug.
`` Tell him he's pathetic suck-up and and his horse looks like an ass!''
`` Sir Richard wishes his subordinates would mirror you, and admires how your horse could balance on the edge of any mountain!'' You wink at the other translator, who flashes you a grin and a thumbs up.
`` Even my horse could n't manage the balancing act of your marriage! Though I'm sure your wife would enjoy the extra ten inches!'' Lionel retorts.
`` Erm, King Lionel wises his marriage had such... complexity?....And implies his horse has a twenty inch penis?'' The translator shrugs at you, stumped. Sir Richard seems confusingly angry.
`` You think your horse is bigger in the dick than mine!?!'' He blurts out, in his native language of Portuguese, which he sometimes uses accidentally when he's really worked up. `` I payed 10,000 pounds for the stud to breed this champion!''
`` Você fala português?'' Lionel replies, perplexed.
`` Of course I speak it!'' Richard replies in awe, using their newly found similar language. `` I was born and raised there, penniless on the shores.''
`` You too were born in Portugal?'' Lionel blurted. You and the translator nervously trade glances. `` You must keep this secret between the two of us. I ca n't lead an army that does n't believe I'm loyal to their state.''
`` Of course.'' Richard replies. The two of them shake hands. `` I ca n't share the secret of another man from my homeland, much less go to war with him.''
The two laugh and even hug. `` What were we fighting about anyway?'' Lionel asks.
`` I do n't even know, my translator is shit. I think I'm gon na feed him to the dogs.''
`` I think so too.''
You and the other translator glance at eachother, then make a desperate sprint for the valley.
`` Eh, let them run, they speak our tongue, after all.'' Lionel says.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
1 WEEK LATER
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
`` Just sign here, Sir, and our Kingdoms will be at peace again.'' You happily hand King Lionel the peace treaty, re-instated in your job.
`` Just one thing...'' Sir Richard bends over and pens one more stipulation into the treaty:
`` I, King Lionel II, admit that my horse's erect member does not measure 20 or more inches, nor exceeds the length of Sir Richard's horse's.''
`` Now, what's the purpose of that!?'' King Lionel yells.
`` You know what!'' Sir Richard says. `` If you're not willing to, then to Hell with your Kingdom.'' With his wild hand movements, he knocks over the bottle of ink onto the treaty.
`` Look what you did, you incompetent swine!'' Lionel yells. `` I slept with your wife!''
Sir Richard punches him in the face. `` Good! We're getting a divorce!''
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[ FF ] The last man on Earth sat alone in a room . There was a knock on the door ... ( 250 words )
| The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door. He really was getting fed up of this. Hoping they would give up sooner rather than later, he folded his legs and stared impotently at the wall. But there it was again, and not a straightforward knock-knock that you could put up with but a happy, mocking knock-kno-knock-knock knock-knock. Conjuring up his sternest face, he crossed the room and flung the door open. `` What?!'' he demanded to the assembled crowd. `` What do you want?'' A blaze of camera flashes was unleashed as their shrieks rang out. These women were so insensitive, he thought.
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[ WP ] Write a story in which a normally benevolent mythical creature is a scary monster . Or a normally aggressive mythical creature is shy and submissive .
| I stared cautiously at the monster, trying to stifle my fear. “ …Please don ’ t kill me, ” I croaked.
It stared calmly back, then glanced at the ground. hearing just as surprised as I was, it spoke. “ You can talk? ”
Had it understood me? I slowly approached it. “ …Yeah. Please don ’ t hurt me. ”
“ …I won ’ t. ” It took a seat on a nearby boulder - even sitting, it towered over me. It ’ s eyes continued to follow me - I found it unsettling.
“ Or my children, or my family, or my friends? ”
“ Look, I ’ m-I ’ m not making any promises to one of you, ” it muttered, although it didn ’ t seem convinced.
” Why not? I ’ m not asking much - we ’ ve never hurt you. ” I blinked. “ Y-You just ambush and eat us at random, and stalk us through forests. ”
`` I have to eat. ”
“ Ever tried being a vegetarian? ”
“ …You mean eat plants? ”
“ Yeah. You won ’ t be hurting anyone. ”
“ There aren ’ t enough bushes or plants to feed me. ”
A slow grin spread over my face, and I motioned for the beast to follow. “ Let me show you a little something called agriculture. ”
Baring his teeth in an imitation of my grin, the Human followed.
-- -
Questions? Criticisms? Want to see more? Check out more of my stuff at /r/Draxagon
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[ WP ] A stalker interrupts the murder of the stalked
| Cassie's feet ached against the flimsy yet still constricting plastic of her nude, ballet flats. Before leaving early this morning she had considered changing into sneakers but, at the last moment, decided they would ruin her outfit. Just 12 hours ago Cassie had been the picture of cute, teenage exuberance: hand-decorated Pentatonix t-shirt, skinny jeans that were cuffed perfectly above her ankle, auburn curls that bounced off the tops of her shoulders with every step she took. Even her makeup was flawless - fresh, light and barely perceptible despite being plastered on heavily enough to mask the patches of acne that invaded her cheeks and forehead every few weeks.
Twelve hours later and Cassie felt like a distant version of the girl who skipped out of her parents' house this morning. Her hair hung in limp, sticky clumps and every few minutes she angrily pushed rogue strands of it off of her oily forehead. Her neon shirt looked impossibly dull now. Spots of charcoal soot covered it; the powder seemed to have fallen out of a Dickens novel halfway through the show, leaching onto any available spare inch of absorbent fabric or un-shielded pores.
Everything in Vegas seemed to atrophy when examined under anything but the blinding lights of a stage. “ Even me, ” Cassie thought despairingly.
The only person who Cassie knew looked just as good off-stage as on was the one she had been waiting out behind this club for hours to see: Scott Hoying. She had bet that he would sneak out the back and so she committed to her post, standing in the delivery driveway about 10 feet down the exit so she could be invisible until she knew it was him.
After 90 minutes of standing her heart had caught in her throat exactly 10 times at the sound of the heavy steel door being hoisted open. 10 hotel employees had passed her indifferently – clearly they were no longer fazed by fangirls camping out in back alleyways.
By the time the door swung open for the eleventh time, Cassie didn ’ t get up from the square of cement she had slid down to occupy and her heart gave little more than a half-hearted flutter. Rather than get her hopes up again, Cassie relaxed into her complacency, closing her eyes as she leaned back against the cool concrete.
“ You dumb motherfucker!!! You have to have more money than this!! ” A voice snarled. Seconds later Cassie heard a series of emphatic smacks. *Is this what a fist fight sounds like? * She was crept closer to the edge of the driveway to get a better idea. A second later, a fifth smack was punctuated by a voice crying out in pain. Cassie recoiled, pressing herself flush against the wall. *This is definitely a fight. *
“ Shut up!! ” The first voice cut off his victim ’ s repeated cries. Those two words came out thick and choked by the most raw, aggressive hatred Cassie had ever heard in another human being ’ s voice.
For a moment the air was silent and heavy, the echoes of Man # 1 ’ s vitriol still palpable amidst the summer breeze. 5 seconds soon stretched to 10, then 10 became 20….. 25….. 30…?
Just when Cassie had begun to hope that the worst was over a series of deep thuds filled the air. She winced at the solid sound of what had to be Man # 1 kicking Man # 2. But where could he be kicking him this hard, this many times, without killing him? Cassie ’ s heart pounded as the gravity of the situation she was in became clear. *What if he kills him? *
A sickening crunch followed after another kick.
“ Ha! ” Cackled Man # 1. “ That ’ s all it takes, huh? Five measly boots to the stomach and you crack a rib? ”
“ Ahhh……. ” a long moan was emanating. Man # 2 ’ s voice was a bit higher than Cassie was expecting, and it was a surprisingly gorgeous tenor. It was a tenor that sounded all too familiar…..It was...
*** “ Scott!!!!!!!!!!!!! ” ***
In a second every rational thought in Cassie ’ s mind was replaced with raw, physical instinct. Bursting from the driveway, she leapt forward and stopped 10 feet away from Man # 1, who was gaping in shock. He was bigger than she was expecting, at least 6 ’ 2 ” and 220. He was also already beginning to move in her direction.
As he moved towards her, the scene behind him became heart-breakingly clear. Crumpled on the ground, bloody and near-unconscious, was Scott Hoying. Concern flooded her but was quickly followed by a quick-burning rage. She might be obsessed with him, she might let her imagination get carried away, but she would never hurt him. Or let anyone else, for that matter…
“ Wait a fucking second…. ” Cassie's developing plan was interrupted by Man # 1, who suddenly stood up from the defensive crouch he had fallen into after seeing Cassie emerge. Small, piercing eyes peered at her as he took slow, calculated steps in her direction. As she began to be able to make out his features in the light shining down from her former hiding place, she realized too late that he could see her too. In all her 14-year-old glory.
“ Ha….ha….hahahaha….oh this is too good!! ” Man # 1 let out a deep belly laugh that concluded with him grinning straight at Cassie as he strolled towards her. Her stomach flipped violently. *It ’ s okay – let him think he ’ s in control. *
“ You ’ re just a little girl!!!!!! One of those psychotic, little… what do you call yourselves again…? ” Man # 1 paused, stroking an unkempt beard. “ Oh yes – superfans! ”
“ Pentaholic would be more accurate, but okay, sure. ”
“ Don ’ t you fucking talk back to me, you hear me? Oh I bet you were so excited to meet the great, the best, the…. The blonde one!! Fucking pathetic. ”
“ His name is Scott, ” Cassie muttered, a little too loudly.
Eyes flashing, Man # 1 suddenly was at her side with a tight grip on her shoulders. Terror crept into every muscle in Cassie ’ s body; in less than five minutes, she had allowed herself to be cornered. Man # 1 felt a tremor run through her arm as he grabbed her, at which point he grinned manically and squeezed even tighter.
“ I bet you ’ d like this if he was doing it! Well guess, what, not only do you get to meet the man of your dreams but, yep, you guessed it, all in one day, you ’ ll also get to watch him die! How many super fans can say that? ” Cassie ’ s blood turned cold as she realized just how twisted this monster was.
“ Listen, ” Cassie said, her mind racing to come up with ways to distract this psycho so she could open her purse. She decided to take an authoritative tone, the kind of confident know-it-all that only a 14-year-old with no life experience can pull off perfectly. He would despise being told what to do, and would want to gain the upper hand in the conversation again before carrying on.
“ Listen. I know you think you have it all figured out. But you may not be as *brilliant* a criminal mind as you think you are. You can ’ t just kill him. He has family, friends, fans. People who will know he ’ s gone, ” she concluded insistently. Then, with a flip of her hair, she wriggled just far enough out of his grasp to get a few feet away from him before turning to roll her eyes at him. “ You can try, but I guarantee you will never get away with it! ”
Man # 1 stared at her coolly, working what must have been chew in his mouth more and more rapidly, a ball visible popping in and out of his cheek.
Hoping for a chance to open her purse with her back turned to him, she shrugged as nonchalantly as she knew how and began to very slowly wander a wider radius, moving a few feet further away from him than she had been before. As she did so, she slipped her hand in her purse quickly, desperately rifling through the Starburst wrappers and gum for what she knew could save both her and Scott…
She heard no sound of his approach, but in an instant he collected the base of her ponytail in his hand, then kicked her so hard in the side of the knee that she crumpled instantly. Before she could hit the ground, a shearing pain shot through her scalp as he swung her around in a full circle by a handful of hair, yanking until the tears streaming down her face mixed with blood from the patches of scalp he ’ d pulled out.
After one revolution he pretended to let up, then picked her up again. “ Nooo!!!! ” Cassie screamed instinctually, knowing the moment she did that it was the wrong thing to do. She screamed for no more than a split second, and that was all it took for him to drop her stumbling to the ground before he wound up and punched her in the face. As she fell to the ground, she remembered wondering how it was possible to get KO ’ d so easily when her dad and she would watch boxing. She ended up flat on her back staring at the clouds, desperately trying to hold onto consciousness. A pair of rough hands grabbed her face as he appeared above her, grinning down.
“ Just want to make sure you ’ re listening, superfan. You made a mistake. Well, you made a lot of them, but your BIGGEST mistake was assuming anything about me. ”
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[ WP ] Write a poem about drifting away into space , waiting to die , after your cord broke while spacewalking without your crew noticing .
| What if there is no meaning to our existence?
We are just random tissues bonded by fate and living in false hopes of a meaning.
We are no greater specie than the bacteria that feeds on the air we exhale.
Just that we are bigger,
Or are we?
We are among the tiniest things in the universe.
We are negligible to cause anything meaningful.
Yet we strive learn things which we can never begin to imagine,
Or can we?
In the depths of human mind were found the answers that reform our lives time and again.
Yet we are left helpless, staring into the edges of the infinity.
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[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - The Zen Edition !
| Blank Page
That fleeting rush of excitement when you face a blank page, yours to sculpt and whittle.
It begins with the curve of a pen, the tap of a computer or the thunk of typewriter; you can pick your poison.
What shall I write? I ’ ve done this a thousand times before. The backlit purple ombré keys of my laptop mock me with their infinite possibilities.
Why is it so hard this time? Am I afraid that I ’ m not good enough? Only when I compare myself to others.
Writers write what they know. But the looming question is: am I really a writer?
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[ WP ] In this world , the amount of heartbeats a person will have , is determined on birth . Your watch reads , 3,195,062 beats left .
| *3,195,062... *
*3,195,061... *
The number, emblazoned in bright red digits on my wristwatch, continued to count down in its unforgiving pace. My eyes swelled and a glossy veil covered my vision. *3 million heartbeats. One more month. *
You would think I'd be better prepared; after all, most of us have known our number since birth. But knowing how long you have until you die is n't all it's cracked up to be. When I was a kid, that number made me its slave. I found out I had fewer digits than the rest of my classmates early on. Some made fun of me, but most ignored me. To them, I was a reminder of death -- something *they* could push out of their minds for hundreds of years.
I hid my watch for a while after that, resolving to live my life the best I could. But somewhere in the back of my head it kept ticking; and in everything I did, with every person I met, I could only think of that day when the watch struck zero.
It hurt me, shamed me, made me into an island. And now, in my last of days, it kept me as nothing short of prisoner.
I decided that I would n't let it have the final say.
I stared down at the tiny blue pill, clutched between trembling fingers. It had taken me three months to procure the drug. In the world I lived in, ending things on your own terms was virtually impossible, and met with resistance at every turn. But I finally did it. I had the pill.
*3,194,456... *
And yet, I could n't do it. I thought of all the happiness denied, the loves unrequited, the memories tainted with the promise of death. It should have been easy to just swallow the damn pill. But I only stared at it in trepidation.
*3,194,400... *
More minutes passed, and I sat in silence. All sorts of thoughts raced through my head, but nothing convinced me to take my life. At least not today.
`` Fuck it,'' I said out loud.
I stood up and placed the pill on my coffee table. Tomorrow would be another day.
Tomorrow, for sure, I'd go through with it.
*3,194,300... *
*3,194,299... *
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[ WP ] The Walking Dead is actually a bunch of kids playing zombies , every time someone `` dies '' its actually their mom and dad calling them to come inside for dinner , homework , etc . Write about a character death from this perspective
| I have been here way too long. All these walkers, the pain, the suffering.
It stopped making sense like a year ago.
But they wont let me go. They love me. All these new friends Ive found. And I love them as well.
I cant tell Them that I cant do it anymore,
I cant hurt them like this.
Theres this kid. Hes so young. He could have a life here.
He may be able to enjoy this, but not me.
So before I called my parents and told them to pick me up
- for good - I taught him how to use my pedal car, for I intended to not take it back home.
I faked and injury and crawled through the grass a little.
They said the walkers are coming, why dont you run?
Everyone was in disbelief. When my parents arrived they didnt even have to pretend to be angry. I was so dirty.
I sat down in the car and my mom asked me why I was playing with these kids.
I should get friends my own age.
The little asian boy was crying as the car started to move.
I knew, secretly they all knew.
Take good care of my old girl, glenn.
I will always remember the good times we had.
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Subsets and Splits