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[ WP ] You live in a city full of people with powers ( telekinesis , electro kinesis , sensors , etc ) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank . You are rank # 1 but no one knows what your power is
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`` It's been 20 years, Un,'' my old crime-fighting partner, Gold Grizzly, said.
`` 20 good years,'' I interjected.
`` They have been good years,'' he agreed, `` but I was saying, it's been a long time, and I still do n't know your power.''
`` These good looks, obviously,'' I said with a giggle.
`` Seriously,'' he said, `` you know that if there's anyone you can trust, it's me. ``
`` Stop asking about this,'' I ordered.
`` Yes, yes, of course, I'm sorry,'' he said in a distracted tone.
People always try to guess what power made me Number One. So far, no one has guessed that it is controlling Number Two.
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[ WP ] While cleaning out your grandmother 's attic , you glance out the window to see the decrepit , abandoned house next door looking brand new , with people in it ! You realize it 's a window to the past : it shows the view from 50 years ago .
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Note: **Very NSFW. ** In ways that ca n't be imagined.
Let me preface this by saying that I'm not proud of what I've done.
It was normal, boyish curiosity that led to me screwing up.
I was up'cleaning' the attic, which my grandma cleans regularly. I use the excuse every once in a while when I need rub one out. Anyway, I realized that the window was open, and the one thing you do n't want to do in Palm Beach, Florida is let your old, wrinkled, hyper-christian neighbors see you cleaning your family scepter in the attic. When I ended the agonizing crawl to the small windowsill in the dusty cramped attic ( crawl because there was n't enough room to stand up, let alone crouch. ) I looked out to the neighbor's house, just to make sure the old guy next door was n't peeping at my sister in the swimming pool. But when I looked out, I did n't see the old guy's house. Hell, I did n't even see a house.
All I saw was two people fucking like rabbits.
I rubbed my eyes.
Nope, I was n't getting my wet dreams and daydreams confused. There were definitely two people vigorously making love
I slowly walked out of the attic, and downstairs until I got down to the side where I had seen the randy young lovers.
There was nothing there.
I went back up. Yup, sure enough, they were still at it, and judging from the moans, pretty close to finishing too.
And then I fucked up.
You have to understand this from my point of view, alright? I was horny, two people were fucking, and I saw a vagina in real life for the first time.
So I went down, right to where they shizzling each other's nizzles and I fapped. Hard. There were explosions.
Base urges expended, I stood up from the now-gooey grass and walked as casually as I could inside, where my grandmother gestured me over despite urgent protestations that I needed to go to the bathroom.
`` No, come here Jonathan! I want to show you something!''
I walked over, grabbing a glass of water to cover any'spills' on my shorts.
Gramma had a album of photos out. She was pointing to a man who looked eerily familiar.....
`` Who was he, Grandma?''
She smiled her wrinkly smile at me. `` Well, Johnny, he was my boyfriend and deepest love.''
I was taken a little aback. `` Grandpa? Gramps looked like that?''
She chuckled. `` No, he dumped me a while back, and then I married your grandfather.''
I was getting more and more wary, pieces slowly starting to come together. It could n't be.........
`` Grandma, what did you look like when you were young?''
`` Ohhh, I think I have a couple photos.''
And then she showed me the spitting image of the women I had seen.
My balls were as curled and wrinkly as two albino prunes, but I had to be sure. I had to be.
`` Grandma, if you loved your old boyfriend, why'd you leave him?''
She sighed. `` Johnny, this is going to sound pretty strange.''
My stomach started to slowly descend. `` It's okay Gramma, keep going.''
`` Well, me and my boyfriend, back in the day... We loved each other very much, and sometimes we would get so wrapped up in each other..... I was a young girl, and he was a dashing, dashing man, and I loved him, so we-''
`` Yeah, I get it. What happened?''
`` Well, you see, one day I took a pregnancy test, and it returned positive. And after that, I had a baby. But it did n't look like him at all!''
*It's not possible* I thought to myself. *It's NOT POSSIBLE! *
Keeping my voice smooth I asked, `` Why not?''
`` Well, we took a DNA sample, and the sample did n't match anyone existing. It was strange. In fact, the baby looked a lot like you! After that he dumped me and then your Grampa took me in and-''
I ran screaming from the room.
Do n't you see?
***I AM MY OWN GRANDPA. ***
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`` Do n't run . They 'll shoot you if you run . '' ( Not a prisoner , even of war )
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`` Do n't run. They'll shoot you if you run.''
Larry warned me with a stern face. I could see his drenched shirt, caused by the sun's rays beating down on him. We had to get to the other end and into the water before the stocky guards mounted on their posts could spot us. I stared at the guard's gun. It was large and bulky, and camouflaged with a dark green tint. If that were me up there, I definitely would have had trouble holding that thing. Larry tapped my shoulder and held up three fingers.
One finger fell, and we clung against the brick wall behind us, removing our shoes to reduce the amount of noise we would make.
Two fingers down, and Larry and I removed our shirts to help with the temperature.
Three fingers gone, and we ran.
As Larry ran ahead of me, the sound of a whistle pierced my ear. Then the guard's deep voice.
`` You! Stop!''
And then they fired. Larry, being the bigger of us, was hit first. He knelt down and told me to keep running, so I did. There was no time to lose. It was now or never.
Due to my agile build and quick maneuverability, the guards kept missing their shots. They reloaded their guns but by then I had neared the edge of the water. I leaped and dived into the cool water, away from my attackers.
Underwater, I felt sad for leaving Larry behind. He was my childhood friend, no, my best friend. I swam to the other edge of the water and resurfaced. I turned around and I could see Larry jumping and cheering.
The lifeguards threw their Supersoakers into their office and the one called Jeff gave me a high-five.
`` Nice dodging there, buddy,'' he said.
But I could n't hear him. I was too busy cooling myself inside of the pool, enjoying my cool, watery freedom.
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[ WP ] No upvotes necessary , just saturation . Load me up with as many zombie apocalypse stories as possible , with the caveat that they take place *before* the 20th century .
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The Great Daemon, the unholy spirit. Brought into this world by man's iniquities and sin, it fills the vile and the evil, tainting them and twisting their flesh. Immortal, unstoppable, fonts of corruption with all manner of unnatural and unknowable abilities.
Plague Bearers. In their black and slavering maws they carry the sins of men, sins that even our holy Lord and savior was not enough to wash away. Just as no two men are the same, no two sins are the same, the Plague Bearers are alike only in that they are voracious manifestations of evil. Mindless in their greed.
At first, the struggle went poorly and it seemed the end had come. Spears bent against the iron flesh of our foes, musketshot tore through them but did nothing. Only cannon served any purpose, and there was simply not enough to stem the tide. The faithful prayed for the return of the Lion-and-Unicorn, the final battle, the unfaithful gnashed their teeth and wailed.
But God, the merciful and forgiving, granted us reprieve.
A savior we were granted, but no Son of God. A Maid, fair but with a berzerker fury and fighting spirit like that of the old Varangians. She had been touched by the corruption and turned it aside through faith and righteousness. All the powers of God, the match of the Plague Bearers, but with the blessed enlightenment of the human mind.
From her divinely appointed touch others could take the burden of the plague within themselves, and with her aid and a huge pool of faith, resist it and become like her. Most she simply slays, the weight of the world's sins too much for them even in the light of her salvation. But those that live... these holy Martyrs form the forlorn hope of a new army. The army of all mankind.
The last men now live in Brittany, backed against the coast by the Great Daemon who even now pushes into our lands. But we have run enough.
The Maid is sent to us by God, divinely appointed to rescue us though we be sinners all. For God and Man we struggle now together, our petty conflicts put aside. For God and Man we shall win.
Deus vult.
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[ WP ] Give your account of the apocalypse as you watch it happen .
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The end was here. The biggest solar flare known to mankind was about to hit Earth and dismantle it bit by bit. Once the solar flare hit the atmosphere death would be instantaneous. The world ’ s governments tried to contain the bleakness of the situation. Within a matter of weeks the truth leaked out. Governments stayed within some reasonable functioning order. For every crook ready to pounce on the weak there was a group of vigilantes ready for justice. The devout held massive prayers and inspirational talks with faith and hope at their side. It was not long before the chaos began and subsided altogether. Even the insane knew that death was inevitable. Cults flourished wonderfully at this time as well reaping the lonely left and right. The outlandish was no longer a restraint people held. People who had phobias were as confident as they would be ever be. Taboos were broken with zeal and vigor from all those who held back all those years.
The final week was the hardest for everyone. Nearly everyone was indoors waiting for the catastrophe to take them in the most familiar or places. Hardly anyone was on the street aside from the death inviting vehicles that cruised without care or concern.
As for myself? Well, I decided to be alone. Initially I felt guilty of leaving my family. In the same fashion that I bore my 30 years on this planet was how I planned to go out. I decided against trying things I wished I was or could be. A lot of that was going around. I took my dog for a walk on that final day. I wasn ’ t planning on returning home so I brought some snacks, a music player, a blanket and water. We went on the usual trail and in enthused fashion the dog was ecstatic to go on his walk and pee on things. I unleash him once we get to the open field and as always he ventures of in his usual journey of exploration. The blanket Is laid out and at first I have some music playing. After a while I shut it off and decide my own thoughts should be mine and mine alone. Everything fades to white. Silence.
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[ WP ] Write erotica of hilariously bad quality .
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He stared into her eyes like two large breakfast plates, but without the eggs, bacon sausage or tomato ketchup. Well, he reflected, there certainly was sausage and she was about to be introduced to it. `` Here comes the meat!'' he announced lustily, immediately regretting it when he saw the insulted look on her overweight face. In fairness to her, she bounced back quickly enough, lifting her leg and inviting him in for a taste. He dove in eagerly, like a baby to a nipple, feeling her leg descend onto his head like he had insulted a professional wrestler. `` Mmmmmm'' he hummed, verbalising his pleasure. `` Mmmmmmm-Mmmmmm-Mmmmmmmm'' she replied, faking emotion to boost his ego. `` Mmmmmmm-Mmmmmmmm-Mmmmmmm-Mmmmmmmm-Mmmmmmmm!!'' he replied, annoying her with his constant need to'one-up' her.
He pulled his head from between her legs, gasping for air.'Maybe he was actually crying for help' she considered, before putting it to one side of her mind.'That's almost my super power' she mused,'i'm as clever as a whale!'. She was distracted by the appearance of a penis in her face. `` awww, its cute'' she started to say, her tonsils being abused like a boxing bag, `` dosh it get biggah?'' she lisped around the solid chunk of man invading her dental cavity like a whirring drill. She heard his moan and immediately knew what was coming... him. She pulled back as quick as she could, but was n't quite quick enough. The first - and only - stream of baby juice that escaped his throbbing'manaconda' hit her in the left eye.'It was always the left eye' she silently whined;'Even when my brother poked me in the eye as a child, that was the left'. He looked down at her reddening face, like a large tomato growing from her shoulders. She wiped the lover-lotion from her eye, glaring at him in anger. `` You're worse than my brother'' she spat at him, squeezing his gentleman's orbs roughly in her her meaty hands.
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[ WP ] A ghost who 's been haunting his killer for years discovers a glitch to transfer him from the paranormal , to the normal . He arrives in the mans living room , a physical being once again .
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I could n't believe it actually worked. I did a few tests just to make sure. When I sat on the couch, I made an impression. I could pick up the remote and turn on the TV and change channels and everything. It may have been a glitch, but it was the best glitch ever. I was flesh and blood again.
I was n't sure what exactly to do next. I could call my family and let them know I was back. They would probably be overjoyed. I could just walk outside and breathe in the fresh air. I could go for a run just to feel my heart pumping again.
My stomach protested all of those ideas in favor of getting something to eat. It had been over three years since I last had any food. You see, I had been dead since I was murdered in college.
I went to the kitchen to find some food. I looked through the fridge and found the most expensive steak I could find. I rummaged through the cupboard for the utensils I would need to cook it.
I knew every inch of this place. It was n't my own house. It was the house I had been haunting for the last 3 years. It was the home of my killer.
After devouring the most delicious steak I have ever eaten, I had a plan of action. I had to get back at this bastard. I took a quick shower and put the wet towels back in the linen closet. I thought that would smell wonderful in no time. I quickly found the spare key and pocketted it. I had to get some things before I could face my killer. I made sure to leave the front door closed, but not locked. I smiled at the thought of messing with him already.
Once outside, I took a moment to take it all in. I felt the crispness of the air as I breathed in deeply. The familiar fall smells that I had missed so much gave me the feeling of coming home. The sun warmed my skin. I was just happy to be alive.
I realized quite abruptly the flaw in my plan. I could n't get far without a car. Besides, I did n't have any money to purchase anything with. I decided to sit on the patio out back until I had a new plan.
It did n't take long for that new plan to form. I went back inside and returned the spare key to its usual place. I took a knife out of the kitchen and headed for his bedroom. I knew I would n't have to wait long for him to come home from work.
He came in at his usual time. Since I had been following him so long, his routine was my routine. He walked down the hall to his bedroom, still not knowing what was about to happen. As he was looking in his closet for his after work apparel, I closed the door as loud as I could.
`` What the...'' He spun from the closet and looked directly at me. `` Who the hell are you?''
`` You really do n't remember?''
`` I've never...''
I would n't let him finish that sentence. `` I know what you did 3 years ago.''
His face lost all color and he stumbled to his bed. `` What do you want?''
`` I do n't want anything, Kevin.'' He recoiled when I said his name and I liked that. `` But you remember me now, do n't you?''
He looked at me hard. `` You ca n't... It's not possible. I must be dreaming or something.''
`` Let's find out,'' I said while advancing on him. I slashed him across the back of the hand with my knife. The howl of pain he let out was so satisfying.
Me and his knife played on him for the several hours that night. He finally died around 11:30 pm. I made sure it was n't quick and painless the way my own death had been. I left the knife laying beside him on the bed and put my bloodied clothes in the back corner of his closet. After a quick shower, I grabbed some of his clothes that fit me and I was off to start my new life. I was n't worried about getting caught for his murder. The only fingerprints on the knife belonged to a boy who had died 3 years ago.
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[ WP ] You hold a book with the power to give life , and take it . Write two names ; one will rise , and one will fall .
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> ^Double-dipping ^or ^not, ^I ^actually ^want ^to ^try ^this ^one.
I set the book down on the coffee table in front of me. Beside it, I tenderly set a pen, careful to line it up parallel to the book; devil in the details, after all.
Across from me sat Ben. I knew enough about him for the moment, and this experiment would tell me much. But not just about him. About all people.
`` With this book,'' I began, speaking with a slow rhythm, `` you may solve many of your own problems. It will not gain you money, or fame, no. Its power is... more dire.''
`` Okay,'' he nodded, smiling cheerfully. Maybe he did n't understand the gravity of the situation.
`` This book holds the very keys to life and death themselves,'' I said.
`` Yeah, no problem,'' he said, his smile not even wavering. I cleared my throat and continued.
`` Any name you write on the left half of the page, while thinking of that person, will immediately and inexplicably fall over dead.''
`` Oh, great,'' he said with unsettling enthusiasm, snatching the pen up and opening the book.
`` Take care,'' I warned, as the pen met the paper and he began furiously scribbling names. I stared, awestruck that he could so flippantly kill people he knew. `` You... you did n't let me finish,'' I tried.
`` Y-yeah, I'm listening,'' he said halfheartedly, already halfway down the page. I wondered if it would even work without names in the right half.
`` It'll kill someone on the left side, but the right side will bring someone back to life, okay?'' I said, losing any hope of a mysterious air.
`` Really?'' he asked, sitting up with his brows lowered. He scratched out a few lines from the right side, and turned the page.
`` How many people do you want dead?'' I asked incredulously. He had hardly slowed down; like he had this list already prepared in his mind. `` I mean... you were only supposed to write one name down. I do n't think it even works if you do it like that...''
`` Yeah,'' he said slowly, clearly distracted. `` What's your name, by the way?'' he asked. I stood up and snatched the book away. `` Hang on, I was n't finished,'' he complained.
`` No, that's it. I... ah... have other people to test.''
`` Oh, shoot,'' he said, slouching to the side. `` You did n't tell me it was a test.''
`` I'm aware,'' I said, hurrying toward the front door. I only realized hours later that I'd left my pen with him, but thankfully, the pen had no power. And even if it did, there was no way I'd go through Ben to get it back.
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[ WP ] `` If you can evade me until sunrise , you live '' . You are trapped in a McDonald 's PlayPlace with a serial killer .
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Stacey hears her phone ringing again for what seems like the tenth time as she's driving down the highway. She was starving and in a hurry. Her mom was going to kill her if she was late to her sister's wedding. She should've left yesterday, but of course, got caught up with work. She thought using that excuse again probably would n't be a good idea as she answered the phone, `` Hey Sis, I'm on my way, still about an hour out, but I will be there, I promise! Do n't tell Mel.''
Christina was tired of always covering for Stacey, she let out a sigh and agreed, `` Okay Stace, Mom is already freaking out that you're not here yet though. Just hurry...'' and she hung up. Stacey was used to running to late, but she was n't used to Christina acting like that. Melanie's wedding must have meant more to her than she thought.
Going eighty down the long straight highway made Stacey realize that she had n't eaten today, and she was starving. Just then, she sees a billboard for McDonald's that says to take the next exit; usually she avoids the place at all costs, but she was too hungry to care this time and is just relieved that there's something out in the middle of nowhere. The billboard was old; it looked like rust and decay had set in long ago, but she did n't notice that.
As she pulled off the highway, she thought it was odd that there were no other buildings around. Usually there's a gas station or something, she thought to herself. She pulled into the parking lot and drove around the building; no drive through. Irritated, she puts her old beater in park and walks toward the door. When she gets there, the door automatically creeks open. The sound is odd enough to make her stop and curiously inspect the door. She tells herself that the building is just old and goes inside not thinking anything of it again until she realizes that there's no one behind the counters, in fact, there's no one anywhere.
Stacey walks about the building looking for someone, and hoping that someone responds to requests, `` Heellloooooo? I just want some damn food.''
As she opens the door to the playscape, she hears someone giggling. Confused, she thought to herself what kind of parent would leave their kid alone in a playscape. She climbed up the steps to the playscape and asked, `` Are you lost? Do you need help?''
A child's voice responded, but it sounded distant, like they were in another room, `` Come play with me!''
Stacey stepped on the first stair, and just as her other foot left the ground and met the stair leading to the playscape, everything changed. There were cob webs, and dirt everywhere. The stench was unbearable, it smelt like a hundred dead animal were burned. She tries to turn around and run, but as she does, she sees that the restaurant is no longer behind her, it's a never ending playscape. She could n't see an end to it at least. That's when he appeared. A tall, slender man with his face painted white, his smile and nose painted red, and fiery red hair that hung down to his back kinked and knotted.
Stacey shook at the sight of the man. She was so scared that she thought that she might wet herself. The man's tongue slithered out of his mouth like a snake as spoke, `` How nice of you to come play with me. I've been alone for a long time now, people stopped coming to visit.'' He moved closer to Stacey and reached out his hand towards her, `` Evade me until sunrise, and you can leave the labyrinth and live.'' He caressed her face and ended their conversation, `` Crawl away as fast as you can, ca n't evade me I'm the boogyman.''
Stacey crawled away as fast as she could, she crawled for her life. She crawled faster than she thought humanly possible. It seemed like each corner she turned was the same as the last, like she was just going in circles. Finally, something different, a long dark purple tunnel. It was larger than the other ones. She crawled slowly down the tunnel, scared of the unfamiliarity of it. Crawling as carefully as she could, she still slid down the slide at the end of that tunnel face first. It was full of turns and bumps, and she kept getting her clothes caught on a nail or something. Finally she saw a light, `` A light at the end of the tunnel!'' she whispered to herself. `` This has to be it.'' Relief came over her body, she felt like a ton of bricks had been lifted off of her all at once. As she approached the end of the tunnel, she saw a silhouette. She could n't make out who it was until it was too late, far too late. She slide off the slide and tumbled to the floor at the feet of the man she was trying to run from. A huge grin came over his face and she noticed that the red around his mouth and nose was n't paint, it was blood. She seemed and pleaded with pleaded with him; he just kept smiling. Finally he reached down to grab her and said, `` You lose. What a nice addition to my collection.''
The man dragged her through a maze of hallways covered in blood until they reached a large metal door. The man brought her into what she only assume was his kill room. There was a large alter like table in the middle that was surrounded in human skulls. On the wall it looked like he was making a mural of some sort out of flesh, teeth, and hair. She closed her eyes as tight as she could and the man picked her up and slammed her down on the table. She should have kept them closed. As soon as she peaked through her watering eyelids she saw the machete coming towards her neck and screamed, which is exactly what he wanted.
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[ IP ] A town hidden in the swamp
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The smell was what he could n't shake from his memory. It was an unrelenting stench that clung to every inch of what he had stumbled upon that day, and had made no exception to this intruder. He took a reluctant breath but was refreshingly greeted by the clean air in the room. To do justice in recounting what he had seen, he needed to focus. He followed that repulsive smell in his head as it shook each sensory memory into action, slowly colouring in the scene. It seemed like some elaborate movie set. A vision only made possible by the madness of an obsessive director and a budget just as wild... but maybe that was simply his memory, inevitably failing to materialise the images of what otherworldly place he had stepped into only a day ago. It was an unimaginable, incomprehensible wondrous place that words alone would not do justice to but he had to tell someone!
Slowly he took himself through the vines and the leaves. They weaved a thick symphony of green dangling from the sky like one hundred veils, each one shrouding a secret, one of which he now knew. He retraced his steps through the dark mulch underfoot, each fresh boot print stamped into untouched earth leaving the only evidence of human existence he could find. Cedar pillars loomed high over him as he returned to the one fragment of this swamp he had no trouble remembering. He had no trouble remembering it because it was n't meant to be there. Deep in this clot of nature, one old gate stood modestly between two old walls. Royal green moss encrusted the iron bars as if it were wrapped up to be protected from the cold chill of the wind that unwittingly whistled passed each night. The cracked bricks, though perfectly placed amongst each other, looked strained and worn, carrying the weight of each vine that crept slowly up to meet them. He walked hesitantly up to the gate and placed his hand against the green bars and stared anxiously through a small gap between two of them but he could only see black and could only smell the same stagnant waft that shadowed this enchanting swamp. Hesitation was slowly replaced by intrigue so he reached for the now glistening handle with his right hand and continued to stare through the gate. He turned the handle and enjoyed the satisfying clunk of melded mechanisms unlocking themselves from each other as he gave life to the dormant doorway. He stepped through the old gate and passed the two old walls into a damp tunnel of dark drips, each one confirmed by a blip as it hit the stone floor before being relayed by an echo further away. The greatest mystery lay beyond the tunnel, and far beyond any words I can conjure up today.
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[ WP ] The story behind your username .
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My head felt like it was going to implode. My hands shook and my vision blurry as each breath I took filled my lungs with hardening cement. There was something so wrong with me that it was starting to take over... but no one else saw it. The walls were closing in and my lungs were refusing air, my hands searched for something to hold onto but all I found was my hair, and so I pulled. My body began to shake as my own trembling hands held on for dear life with nothing but my hair in my hands. Tears escaped my eyes and longs spews of words floated around my head. Most of the words that were tumbling around up there sounded something like “ What ’ re you good for? ”, or “ Your nothing but annoying, they only pretend to be your friends! ”, and finally “ Why is everything so loud?! ”.
But one long sentence stood out to me, unlike the other messy words that infected my head, this sentence stayed together and floated across my vision in bold letters it said, “ And somehow the apple tree survived. ” I didn ’ t understand it, it had made no sense... but somehow I knew that it was a big part of someones story, I just needed to tell it. So I picked up the things that sat closest to me, my yellow french binder and a black pen, and I wrote a story. I wrote a short story about a little boy and his mother planting an apple tree, taking a vacation, and then getting on a plane that was heading back home. The boy wanted nothing more then to get home and see his apple tree, but their plane was hijacked. They crashed and the mother and son never got to check on their apple tree. And even though their was no one to water or care for the apple tree, somehow it survived.
I can assure you that on paper the story was much more dramatic, much more climactic, I know it because I wrote it, but I couldn ’ t show you because when I looked down at that paper where my story lay, all I saw were scribbles. The words were flowing through my mind and I wrote them as quickly as I could onto the paper, and then they were forgotten as I prepared for the next sentence. I should ’ ve been disappointed, two hours and half of my binder waisted, and all I ’ d gotten from it were scribbles. But then I sat down, and I really thought about it... despite loosing the story to my not paying attention, this was the one story I wouldn ’ t have to hide from my peers, the one story in which I wouldn ’ t have to defend my writing. This story was mine and mine only... and even hardly that. The words that had formed the story existed only in the moment in which I ’ d thought them up, it was nothing then... well, word vomit, because as they were leaving my mind they ’ d never return, it was nothing then a mess left on the floor. The only reason the story existed was because I remembered writing it.
And I loved the feeling so much. I ’ d moved on from scribbling down stories and up to what was on my mind, what I needed to say but no one would support. So I wrote them down... I scribbled them down, and once they were out, it felt amazing even though they were still only truly out for me. Eventually my binder was covered in what I still call “ Word Vomit ” and although it appeared as scribbles to anyone else... it was my own masterpiece.
As for the 14, it ’ s not my favorite number, nor the day I was born, for one year straight I was the number 14. The year that I was number 14 was the year that my mind had been broken, the year that started the chain reaction that lead to the mess I am today. That year I had meant nothing to no one. I didn ’ t even have a name, I was the 14th person on the attendance, therefor I was number 14. I had “ friends ” that taught me the meaning of betrayal, and enemies who taught me the meaning of helplessness.
The year that I was number 14 was the year I changed for the worse... but I ’ m still conflicted about that number... whenever I think about it I ’ m met with nothing but sorrow and bad memories, but at the time, it was all I had to hold on to. 14 was the only real thing in my life, it was the only thing I could determine as friend from foe and it lead me to so many new things... specifically my stories.
There was once a year when I was nothing but a number, and during that same year I had nothing but a number, and to this day I ’ m still conflicted as to whether or not the number 14 was the best, or worst thing that ever happened to me.
Now you know just how much there is to something as simple as my username, and now I ask, would you have even considered that something as ridiculously sounding as word_vomit14 could mean so much to a person.
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[ WP ] Struggling to escape the fiscal weight of the Great Depression , the Wonka Candy Company turns to accepting munitions contracts , adding their own unique mark in the process .
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“ How can this be true? The contest? The… the boy? None of that matters if this is true. ”
He paced frantically up and back across the dark and incredibly cluttered office. His legs scissored violently, purple patent leather shoes making shuffling growls along the carpet. He shot a hand out, pointing and accusatory, and stepped towards the tiny figure by the door.
“ Where did it all go? What could we possibly have spent it on? ” He asked, barely maintaining his composure.
“ Well sir— “ the little man replied, “ We ’ ve not really maintained a steady path, so to speak, in the sales figures… these… the past few years… umm… ” he cleared his throat and shuffled through his clipboard. “ And though we ’ ve the best legal minds on your case the unions are quite powerful and… and you do have that lawsuit pending… ” He paused.
The tension was thicker than syrup.
“ Sir… Mr. Wonka… I think we may need to explore other options. ” the tiny man finished. He brushed a tuft of mint green hair out of his face and returned the clipboard to his side.
“ Uh-huh. ” Wonka replied slowly. He lit a red striped cigarette. “ You know candy is my life, Gordon. My whole world. I ’ m sure you ’ ve realized by now. I have no family, no friends, nothing else but this. ”
“ Well sir— “
“ I don ’ t care, in case you were… wondering. I ’ m not interested in women, what I make is far sweeter., I ’ m not interested in men either, what I make is far richer. I love your people because you understand that. Gordon, for God ’ s sake, it ’ s a part of your culture. That ’ s why I brought you here. To raise your people up onto the stage of history. ”
The little man winced ever so slightly. He imperceptibly gritted his teeth.
“ Yes sir. My culture. Absolutely, absolutely. ” He said after a small silence. There was no change of emotion in the boss ’ eyes yet. He ’ d gotten quite good at reading those eyes. The last few holders of his title had, to put it lightly, not been quite as good.
“ So unless your plan is ‘ candy ’ related, ” Wonka said, smiling far too wide and miming quotations, “ I do not want to hear it. ”
There was the change. His brilliant eyes lost their light, they became devoid of life in an instant.
“ Is it candy related, Gordon? ” He asked, his voice a deadly whisper.
“ It certainly, ah… it certainly can be. ” Gordon replied.
“ Great. Oh great. I ’ m glad you see it my way. I knew you were the right. pick. ” Wonka bent down and poked his chest on the last two words. “ So what did you have in mind? ”
“ Well sir, and keep in mind, you may have to be the one to lead the charge on the candy implementation side of things, we have the infrastructure in place, as well as the talent on hand to begin developing and manufacturing… umm… automatic weapons. There ’ s quite a demand for them these days, and they can fetch a pretty pr— ”
“ Done! ” Wonka said, cutting Gordon off and shooting back to his feet. “ Yeah. Done. Great. Wow, great idea. Candy weapons. Weapons that shoot candy, weapons that are candy, excellent shit. When you ’ re on you are really on, buddy! ”
Gordon smiled uneasily. “ So you want us to draw up some plans? Schematics? Recipes and so forth? I can get R & D in here in five if you want? ”
Wonka strode back over to his desk. “ Yes, all of that! ” He called over his shoulder. He bent and took his beautiful handmade hat from a bust, something Gordon had noted with slight amusement his first day. It was of an old man with the same flyaway hair and high cheekbones, but there were candy canes in both the eyes. Gordon figured it was a metaphor for something.
“ Three more things, ” Wonka said, rushing past Gordon and out the door. He donned his coat and strode faster.
“ Yes sir? ”
“ We do any and all ballistics tests underground, no outsider is to know about the fusion reactor, and under no circumstances, under penalty of death, is anyone to inform Charlie. ”
“ Outsiders? ” Gordon called after him. “ In the factory? ”
“ Yes. This customer base prefers to come to us. ” He said, smiling brightly as the elevator door closed.
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[ WP ] : The narrator is either ignorant or in denial of something that is very obvious to the reader .
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Straight Gary was very straight. He was also a cop. But the most important thing was that he was straight. He never had a girlfriend, but I know he was straight.
There must have been alot of homosexual crimes lately, because every Friday, Straight Gary would go to the local gay bar. He had already infiltrated them, as he entered with many people saying hi. He ordered a drink to calm his nerves. Then he had about 10 more. Straight Gary was not a lightweight for sure.
Soon a suspect came and talked with Straight Gary for a while. Soon, Straight Gary had begun to kiss this man, as a facade to gain the suspect's trust. They went to the suspect's house, and Straight Gary gave the suspect $ 50 for information. To get more trust, Straight Gary did his regular `` personal interrogation'' for more. After a while, the suspect was put in handcuffs! Straight Gary was so good, the suspect did n't even notice. After some more information was given, Straight Gary left the suspect's house, probably to get more officers for the arrest. Another days work for Straight Gary.
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[ EU ] In a parallel universe , a bunch of DnD characters get together to play Briefcases and Bosses ( BnB ) , the simulation of a life without magic and a total lack of mortal danger
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Hodar the Half-Orc watched on with obviously waning patience as Ansel tossed the twenty-sided die.
`` Bob from accounting failed the will save and falls asleep in the meeting,'' said Markus the sorcerer.
Ansel snatched the dice off the table and deftly switched them with a pair of loaded die before looking to Icera the paladin.
`` Joel attempts to stealthily awaken Bob from accounting by kicking him in the shin from across the table.'' The stout Palladian said confidently, his armor clanking loudly as he carelessly rolled the d20 and the d6. The outcome that anyone could have predicted ( but none hoped for ) occurred as the subdued `` 1'' presented itself on the upward face of the d20.
`` Critical failure. You kick the regional manager in the balls for 6 damage.'' Markus said with a wry smile.
Hodar boiled over in rage, `` That no fair, he not confirm cri... cri... bad thing!'' The dense half-orc upturned the table in a rage, sending myriad dice, a `` Corporate Drone Manual v. 3.5,'' and a crudely drawn map of a boardroom into the air.
`` Hodar, we decided last time that confirming every critical was taking too much time, we've already spent 3 game sessions playing this one strategy meeting.'' Markus answered calmly as he endowed his pet raven with a Ghoul Touch spell silently and without motion.
`` That bullshit!'' Hodar cleverly retorted as Ansel pickpocketed the raging behemoth. Icera sat in silent prayer as the scene unfolded around him.
`` This seems like a good place to stop, same time next week?'' Markus asked.
`` Well, we should probably focus on making it out of the temple of elemental evil first,'' said Icera, suddenly aware of the presence of a demon approaching to attack.
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[ EU ] Bruce Wayne , age 121 , has died of a heart attack in his sleep . Friendless and forgotten , the only ones to attend his funeral are fellow heroes in costume , honoring the true face of their fallen comrade . After a few words from the priest , Superman steps up to the podium to give a eulogy ...
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The world has lost something today. We've all lost something today.
To the world, Bruce Wayne was merely an eccentric billionaire who was only as good as the next juicy headlines the media could get out of him.
To us, Bruce Wayne was a friend. A guardian. And a solemn reminder.
The Justice League has often been described by the people of Earth as `` gods among men.'' I've never enjoyed that title, but when we can leap tall buildings in a single bound or move faster than a speeding bullet, I can understand where it comes from. Yet Batman, Bruce Wayne, stood among us as a `` man among gods'' whose only superpower was the indomitable human spirit.
He reminded us that we're not above those we serve and protect.
And he reminded us that we have no excuses to fail. For he did n't need powers to stand up to any of us. So how much more capable should we with powers be, to stand up against those who wish to destroy us?
Today, we say farewell to a founding member of the Justice League and, by far, the most dangerous man I've ever met.
The world has lost something today. We've all lost something today.
... I lost a dear friend today.
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EDIT: [ Relevant image ] ( http: //static.tumblr.com/c9850fd04cd9bb686159a60986cce760/ymjpdf9/unfn32y3e/tumblr_static_424212.jpg ), linked by /u/Double_farts.
EDIT: [ Click here ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3mzqui/eu_bruce_wayne_age_121_has_died_of_a_heart_attack/cvjveqi ) for a eulogy from Joker's perspective. It's in the comments below, but why bother searching? I'd love some feedback.: )
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[ WP ] Write an uplifting story in under 8 setences
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I'm stuck in a train carriage on a train deep in China, weary and alone, watching painted landscapes sail past as they have for 15 hours straight. We're stacked in triple bunks as we rattle along our 2,000 mile journey in overcrowded, bustling, realm of human life filled with the chatter of languages I do n't speak and rich scents of food I do n't recognise.
Then the little girl spots me, shock imprinted on her face as she edges towards me. She's tiny; thin and fragile, maybe seven or eight years old, black hair in pigtails, eyes wide in amazement as she presses her face right up to mine until our noses almost touch.
`` Hi,'' I say, laughing as she runs away bashfully, frightened that I dare speak to her and break her intense study; obviously she'd never seen a Westerner before, let alone someone with blue eyes.
A minute later she's back, dragging her mother to where I recline, talking excitedly, pointing at me with fascination and nervous joy.
The mother bursts out laughing.
`` She thinks you're Harry Potter,'' she explains, and, weariness forgotten, I delight in the way the world is much smaller than I believed.
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[ WP ] Scientists confirm that our universe is a computer simulation . Write about a family who witnesses the announcement live on television .
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Quantum computers were nothing new...
Hell, Quantity^TM had been a household name for the past 9 years. And not in your friendly-neighborhood-corporation way like during the turn of the millennium where people were sheepishly complicit in the wealth disparity issue. No, this was the wet dream of the archetypal mad scientist. Stupidly petting some balded cat in a dug out mountain, letting out little whimpers of pleasure through bit lips. A cheating coward whose eyes flicker with excitement over the face of his opponent as he takes the win. You could see it clearly. Right there on the screen. Just a sad and insecure individual who simply figured it out first: Neal Braxton.
It was almost funny to watch. Not in the `` ha ha'' way, but in the only way someone could respond to an assertion of such absurdity and scale. Nevertheless, we were n't laughing. My dad stood waiting in a half bent way for what he thought was an appropriate break in the broadcast to sit down, holding the steaming black TV dinner tray with his fingertips and strategically chewing between his labored, nose-whistling breaths. Finally sinking into the leather with as much noise as expected, he looked back up to the screen, the light on his glasses obscuring what I knew to be an attentively empty gaze. With a long sigh, I looked back at Neal. He was interrupting the reporter again with a half-cocked grin and a posture all too diagonal for the occasion.
`` N-now yes! and no.'' He chuckled. `` One of the most important distinctions I've been trying to make this whole time, Roy, is that I myself am not pulling any strings! While I know the mechanics behind what we do here at Quantity soars far over the head of the general public, I do hope to take this time to... impart, if you will, the basic concept of what's going on.'' *snide prick* `` As we know, the laws of probability were once impossibly out of reach when it came to meaningful deductions of time and space. But since the advent of Quantity, our ability to predict future events, piece together the past, and carry out essentially any calculation needed in real world logistics is limited only by our hesitation to press a button.''
An image box faded up on the screen with a picture of that familiar button emblazoned with the word
SOLVE
The irony insultingly blatant seeing as what ’ s become of humanity ’ s issues. But for a man in a world that ’ s all his own, this subtlety does not compute. Still seeking the basic explanation, Roy persisted.
“ Dr. Braxton, if I understand correctly, there is no need for a sales pitch. Since you ’ re saying this has indeed already happened, the people of the world are asking in plain and simple terms… what does Quantity mean when it says ‘ Simulation ’. ”
Neal ’ s expression quickly became serious and he replied tersely, “ I did not say that, Roy. ”
Our living room and the globe was charged with the silence that followed. The reporter then shifted in his chair and shot a glance off camera to the undoubtedly speechless studio members.
“ … Then what are you saying, Dr. Braxton. ”
“ What I ’ m saying, Roy, is that we are a simulation, but I ’ ve yet to press the button. Every test that we ’ ve run using Quantity has lead unmistakably to only one possibility: we are living in a simulated reality created by Quantity itself. In one week ’ s time, I will press the button. I will SOLVE our world. I will set into motion the events that have led to me sitting in this very space in this very moment. The only unknown is what will become of this string in reality. ”
A horrified Roy Steinbeck gathered his thoughts. Solemnly he asked Neal, “ How might you respond to critics… who say the possible fate of humanity… and the universe as we know it… should not rest in the hands of one man? ”
Neal took a deliberate stance in his chair, one by which he might easily spring up into motion, and held up his two hands to form a trembling cup of air. You could see Roy again shift back and look to the crew as if to check that they were prepared for something. The words tripped out of Neal ’ s lips with a disgusting intensity.
“ My hands are clean of fate. This event was written out in the very fabric of space and time. I am an-WE… are *all* instruments of the algorithm! To deny my responsibility to carry this out is to deny the creation of ALL things as we know it. To the so-called *critics* I say, “ You are nothing. ” This is a time for admonishing the illusion of self-worth. Be glad I ’ m giving the world a week to come to terms with that. I am kinder than the universe tends to be. ”
He then sat, grabbed his glass of water, and brought it swiftly to his face. The transmission cut. [ [ Channel Zero: We are experiencing technical difficulties. We apologize for the inconvenience. Thank you for choosing Channel Zero. ] ]
My dad ’ s glasses reflected the blue light of the screen. Food still sitting in his cheek, he certainly couldn ’ t chew now, he knew it would ruin the moment. He faced different directions as if to indicate his eyes were looking around, at me, my brother, his food, deciding how to pace his response.
“ Weoup ” He managed as he swallowed a lump of food, “ this is certainly— “
I was already walking across the living room. I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door.
“ Hey! Where are you off to all of a sudden? ”
“ Where do you think? ” my brother mumbled.
Before the door slammed shut, I told him of course, “ Mom ’ s. ”
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[ WP ] Narrate as a child born after an apocalypse and is living in one of the survivor camps . The city structures still stand , but societies are gone . Describe how the child interprets the cities they see and how they imagine society before the apocalypse .
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https: //docs.google.com/document/d/1URnpxmC2CgBE2qfo70TLBCPWg3P9JSmXO7nBL9p4e-8/edit? usp=sharing
I walk through the path, shadows looming far over me. They give off some sort of unnatural darkness, as if night had found some safe haven where it could not be pursued. The smell of chalk filled my lungs, it was a calming smell. I don ’ t know why but the mystery of the ruin had enchanted me since I was very young.
I know the penalty for going in the ruins, but how long could I have held back my ambitions. I would not be stopped by my parents, who were stuck in the ruts of their distasteful and craven ways; nor would I be daunted by threats of the town council to persecute any who enter the ruins. For as any other sane man I would gladly trade a few mere fingers to make a discovery, any discovery.
The tortures that I have faced, looking at the ruins from the fields as I have helped my father tend to the mundane and unimportant. I have to long yearned to see the waning mountains for the base. I could no longer live in this world where sat on the edge of the world, but was forbidden to jump.
I passed the rotting walls of the ruins, for their time of usefulness has long since passed. As I explored this vast new world I was mesmerized by its beauty. The wonders before my very eyes were so vast that I could not fully contain my composure. The temples surrounding me were pecked full of holes. They had the appearance of a stone beehive, full of cracks and ready to crumble to the ground. Despite their feeble complexion these giants would not move. Try as I might, be it kick, or shove, or a hefty shoulder the buildings would not move in the slightest way. How is this, what could this be? I needed to know, but not know, know I needed to explore. As I walked farther into the ruins I notice that leaves littered the grounds. They would no leaves I had ever seen, pale and brittle as if the had fallen off a tree and never withered. The leaves where all crushed none making what you could call a full leaf, but the mundane sound of walking through an autumn forrest.
My clothes have become stained grey with chalk, and my pants soaked with sweat from the blazing sun, which had somehow made its way around the great temples to crush my spirit. It would not though, for I had found so much and I had discovered more than any man in my village dared. This was my limit though, for the sun was receding; even I, a man of great courage and a thirst for discovery would not dare stay in the ruins at night.
I looked at my hand one last time, admiring the fingers which I had so nobly sacrificed. Something caught my eye though. It was a leaf, not any leaf though it was bigger, greater. The perfect thing to bring back, a sample of the sickly ruins. As I reached to pick it up it pulled out of the ground, like a worm being unearthed. I looked at the thin and ghastly leaf, wondering what tree it could fall from. Then as if a mound of logs had fallen on to me, I foresaw the tree that had birthed this leaf.
I was dumbfounded, standing there ruins, looking up at the sky. The long stem, separated by moving digits; the cold feeling in my hand, as if it had been stabbed through with a sickle on a freezing winter day. This was no leaf, this was a finger, a human finger.
My senses returned to me. I ran, I ran as I had never run before. I could feel the grim shadows following me, I heard the crunching under my feet. What had I done, what had I uncovered? None of it mattered now, only they feeling of the wind in my face and the burning within my chest. I head to get out of here. Sprinting through the winding paths and avoiding whatever obstructed my path. I could feel an army hot on my feet, their breath was on my neck. I saw the unyielding walls of the ruin grow closer, ensnaring me. I saw the hole in the wall in which I had entered. I jumped.
There was no feeling of falling only that the ground itself at jumped up and slammed into me. I felt a warm shiver down my leg, feeling the warm showed me crimson red hands. Good, blood meant I was alive, that I had escaped the ruins. I could feel my breath and nothing else, panting. Hours past, or maybe days.
“ Boy, ” I looked up seeing a man standing over me like I titian. His cloths prestien and royal, his words soaked in disappointment. I saw the singular star plated upon his helmet and knew its meaning, but none of that mattered for I had escaped the ruins. He raised his left arm, my eyes to blurring to full make it out. “ My the lord have mercy on your soul. ”
“ Click ”
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[ IP ] A deceased uncle leaves you five million dollars cash to `` finish what he started ''
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My uncle was an eccentric man. When I was a child, my parents kept me away from him. Mom would always say that she thought something was a little off about Uncle George.
I met him one when I was a teenager. My parents were at some function, and I was sitting at home basking in the light of the television. I heard a knock at the door and outside sat a tall, black haired man, with a blue blazer and denim jeans. I could recognise his face from the family photos, because George had a unique beard, reaching from the top of his lip to the bottom of his chin, parting only for his lips. He looked like an ordinary man, and when he spoke to me, he sounded like a ordinary man too, deep but meaningful, with a glimmer of pride in his eyes.
`` Are your parents home?'' was what he said to me.
In mild shock, I replied, `` No. Would you like me to call them?''
`` No,'' he said back, `` that's fine. You've grown up to be a fine young man, Samuel. One day we'll meet again.''
Then he left, without a trace.
As an adult I tried to get to know him. After all, he was family, and I was n't about to ditch him like my parents did. But I had trouble finding him. He dropped off the face of the Earth. So I went back to daily life.
I made a thing of myself. Got a degree in education. Found love, got married, had children. Adopted pets. Helped out with parent things. Uncle George was never at the front of my mind but he lingered in the back like a toy forgotten under a child's bed.
There was a day when I was sitting in my living room, on a lounge chair, when I got a phone call from my mother. She spoke over the phone with a quiet voice, telling me that George had died in hospital, and my mother was listed as the closest family he had. I felt a tinge of sadness in my stomach, sympathetic for a uncle I had only met once.
It was a few days after the funeral that we got back together to read out the will. His apartment in Brooklyn goes to my mother, collection of books to my father, so on, so forth. And at the end, I was entrusted only with a small disc, with the instruction's from George's lawyer to watch it within the next month.
At home, I stuck the DVD into my home theatre while nobody was home. It booted to a screen of black, then suddenly a picture of Uncle George in crisp, HD quality. He sighed, and took a breath.
`` Samuel.'' he said.
`` You're wondering,'why did he give me this'. It's obvious. I'll get to that. I want you to know that I never tried to keep away from you on purpose. Your mother never wanted me to see you, for some reason.''
`` Here's the thing. My whole life, I set myself out to be successful. I got a good job, a beautiful wife, so on. That worked well for me. I was happy, but not too happy. So I gambled. I took a risk. And it payed off for me, in the sums of millions.''
`` Then I realised that things were falling apart around me. I noticed people getting close because of money, that my wife was changing, that I was spending more and more time with the rich. I hated it. So I took myself to my roots, back to my home town. And I saw so many people, homeless and depressed. So I helped them out.''
`` Your mother called me weird, or odd, confusing, every name in the book. She could n't understand what I was doing, waisting my money. But it made me happy, and it made others happy.''
`` Go to the storage lockers at the far end of Main Street, inside the old place. Ask for Room 752. The code is 8-1-2-4. I'm leaving you five million dollars in cash. It's the only way that I can keep it safe just for you. I have faith in you, Samuel, I've been observing you for a very long time.''
`` Make people happy. Finish what I started.''
***
Happy 5 million subscribers, /r/writingprompts!
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[ WP ] Through the static , I saw what they called `` Rain ''
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It was standard issue protocol, I land on a planet in the pods check for alien life and if there is none I leave and mark places for colonization. I was looking through the window when the first creature came forth. Using a short wave genetic psychic transmitter I asked for its name.
`` You should not have come, the rain is coming''
The psychic transmitter gave me several alternatives to rain such as destruction, ending, finality. I asked back what is so wrong with the rain.
`` We have seen it before. they all land here in their ships and they are destroyed by the rain''
I did not understand. They where not giving me a direct answer and I wondered what was troubling them so. I guessed it was some sort of energy wave that came down from the sky and I hooked myself into the psychic transmitter to look through their eyes. If only I looked at the seismograph.
The experiance is always unpleasant, but it needed to be done. I looked around the icy plain and saw my bretheren next to a hole.
`` Stop, They are doomed. Do n't save them'' They scream as they are trying to usher me into the hole in the ground.
`` Why'' I ask through the creature `` What is this rain''
`` You are possessed. You are dead. Leave us be'' They looked at me and as if they felt something inside their soul the ran back down and locked the door.
I looked around, I could see nothing. Icy plains as far as the eye can see. That is when it came. First a rumble, then the static. A burning sensation in both of our brains. He was trying to gain control, but the transmitter kept me locked inside of him. The pain would become unbearable for him and he would let me gain control again, but he did not stop. He kept on pushing, trying to control his body again. He knew something was coming and that it was going to kill him no matter what. In a last moment of insanity he picked up a ice shard off the ground and stabbed it into his head. In those last moments of consciousness as the static faded, I saw what they called `` Rain''.
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[ WP ] It is the end of days . God and Lucifer stand before the last human being . You are the first neutral soul who is neither good or evil enough to pass into a afterlife and thus must be judged personally . Unknown to them , you are Death and have come for them instead .
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God cleared his throat loudly, trying to alleviate some of the tension in the room. Shooting a sideways glance at Lucifer, The Almighty noticed his one-time assistant, and long-time rival, was looking decidedly pale. I said nothing, simply sitting in the chair all the other souls had occupied before me, my business associate perched on my shoulder. This interview, however, was not going as the others had.
`` Well now,'' God finally managed to sputter, His deep voice wavering noticeably. `` This is... unexpected.'' Lucifer refused to look me in the eyes. Odd, considering how long my relationship with him stretched back. The both of them, actually - God and the Devil, taking the sinners and the saints, but apparently failing to notice the one who brought all those souls to their final destination. The one who had parted soul from life with a scythe that everyone meets eventually. I did my best to make the transition easy, but it rarely ever was. There was pain and sorrow and loneliness and anger and relief... some who lived far too long, and some who did n't live long enough. I collected them all, and brought them here. Where God and the Devil judged each one.
The tables, I fear, have turned. I am the only one left - every other soul has been through this office, sat in this chair and had these two decide their eternal fate. I think Lucifer has caught on first as to what my presence here means, but God is having a tougher time connecting the dots. I say nothing though. Best to let them puzzle it out for themselves.
`` I ca n't quite understand why you're here...'' God again, struggling with the silence and that obnoxiously-ticking wall clock on the wall behind Him. If He hated the ticking so much, He should have gone with a quieter clock. Or an hourglass, maybe. The sand is far more soothing. On my shoulder, my companion gesticulates forcefully, making God swallow nervously and The Devil wrap his arms tight around himself.
`` He's here for us,'' Lucifer murmured, chin tucked into his chest, eyes down, arms crossed. God started in His chair, glancing between me and Lucifer, who still would n't make eye contact. Ahh, the realization in God's eyes. The lightbulb has finally flickered on. Gaping, The Lord blinked at me slowly as He tried to sputter out a sentence. `` This ca n't be... there must... mistake...'' He twisted in His seat towards Lucifer and shoved him lightly. `` We have to be able to make a deal!'' Lucifer, for his part, just shakes his head. Many have tried to bargain with me before, but there is no bargaining with Death.
Except... except. These two, for once, are perhaps capable of offering something to stave off the inevitable. At least for awhile longer. Long enough for *them* to ponder *their* mortality. Death comes for all in the end, even those who think they can escape the scythe. I can feel my business associate growing more agitated on my shoulder, swinging wildly, and his violent antics cause God and the Devil both to gawk, then shift their looks back to me with panic and fear in their eyes. I should get on with it... except... I miss an old friend. A dear friend, possibly the only one I ever had. He gave me purpose, and brought happiness and joy to so many. Created laughter and merriment to brighten an otherwise bleak and disheartening time. And to be able to enjoy his company again, even if only for a short time, perhaps even Death can be bargained with.
`` YOU HAVE SOMEONE... SOMEONE I BROUGHT TO YOU LONG AGO. RETURN HIM, AND PERHAPS WE CAN STRIKE AN... AGREEMENT.''
My associate, perched on my shoulder, brandished his miniature scythe in agreement. `` SQUEAK!''
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[ WP ] You are 'Life ' . Your job is to not be fair .
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*Sigh*'Another day, another dollar.' I thought to myself as I rubbed my temples.'Who gets the displeasure of being the first person I read about today?'. I looked around the dreary office, cubicle upon cubicle filled with people hunched over desks typing away. Stretching, I turned my gaze to the dark wooden desk before me, covered in folders with post it notes all over them.'I ought to organize these', slowly I began to place them into a giant orderly pile. `` Collin?'' I asked, leaning back in my chair to look at the desk to my right. `` Yes, sir?'' Said Collin, sitting up from his paper work. His face appearing older and more concerned than it should have been at 25.
I smiled, `` Collin, have you ever thought to... I do n't know, randomize this a bit?'' He raised an eyebrow, `` I'm sorry, I do n't know what you mean Sir.'' He stared at me quizzically. `` Ah. Nevermind then. Sorry to bother you.'' He smiled, `` No bother, sir.'' And returned to his own piles of folders.'Well, why do n't I try to make this more entertaining for me?' I ponder. A grin crept across my face. I grabbed the first folder and held it close to my chest as I ponder.'Great luck, meh, shitty deal'. I nodded slowly, `` This might work.'' I placed the folders into the piles, and leaned back in my chair.
`` Well. Let's see what everyone is going to get. Let's start with good.'' I whispered to myself. `` Alfred Gates... 26. Broke. No girlfriend. No boyfriend. No house... Hm. No parents? No. Car? Yes. Works? Yes. Hm. School? No. Hmm. What to do with you Alfred. What to do... Lottery? Yes? Yes. How big?'' I paused, `` Hey, Anyone else winning the lottery tomorrow?!'' I shouted to the rest of the office. Pause. Typing. `` I'll check for you sir!'' Shouted one of the cubicle people, I really should learn their names in there. `` Sir, there are to be 5 winners tomorrow for the states, this is a local one, correct?'' Hm. `` Yes, thank you. That will be do!'' I tapped the folder on the desk. `` Here you go, Alfred. Have a winning lottery ticket.'' I smile. Next. `` Thomas Johnson... You got money. You have a house. You have a girlfriend, and parents... Hm. One is ill? Serious stuff there Tommy, my good man. Let's clear that up for you.'' Okay, we should probably get started on that mediocre stuff. I thought to myself as I glanced at the clock. But, perhaps we'll start that after break.
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[ WP ] You are a highwayman who robs time travelers
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They always fall.
When they come through the gate, that is. They always fall. Those first steps always bring to mind faded memories of Jacob learning to walk. A few wobbly steps and bam, right on his ass. He giggled, happy child that he was. They usually don ’ t.
Of course, the type of person with enough credits to afford a temporal passport and a ticket through The Warp probably doesn ’ t like being made a fool of. The engineers working the gates never gave a shit about that, though. They were damn near irreplaceable. Fine tuning the coordinates on a Warp gate was more art than science, and those with a knack for it were few and far between. The silver spooners and corporate fat cats might not like the titters and sidelong looks, but they ’ d learned long ago that nothing would come of contacting The Company.
Thing is, after any kind of indignity, most of ‘ em are desperate to reassert superiority. Woe betide the next commoner they see. Driver? Bellhop? Maid? Doesn ’ t matter. Someone ’ s got a headache coming their way.
That ’ s where I come in.
Why make ‘ em wait? They ’ d just build up a bigger head of steam. Better to get that unpleasantness out of the way, and let them go back to sitting up on cloud nine above the rest of humanity.
They fall, I pick ‘ em up. Maybe this time, I ’ m a little rougher than I should be, maybe I don ’ t provide enough support. Give ‘ em something specific to latch onto and rant about. It doesn ’ t matter what, just get ‘ em complaining and watch as they relax into their comfort zone. They get off on it, really.
And, oh boy, do I feed the beast. Spineless simpering, stumbling over my words, avoiding eye contact, the works. The more pathetic, the better. Reassure, reaffirm, make ‘ em confident. That ’ s what it comes down to.
Makes the turn that much sweeter.
I honestly can ’ t figure out which part is better. The moment they realize that they didn ’ t land when they were supposed to, or the moment they realize that I ’ m not the welcoming committee.
Y ’ see, I give ‘ em the opportunity to be decent people, and if they decide not to take a verbal shit all over the stuttering mess that ’ s just trying to help ‘ em out, I check their ticket, “ discover ” that they ’ ve somehow landed off course, and take em right back to the engineers. No harm, no foul.
Problem is most of ‘ em can ’ t help but show their true colors. Call me delusional, but I fancy myself a bit of a Robin Hood type character. I rob from the rich and I give to… well to me, really, but I used to be poor, so it counts, right? I still take ‘ em back to the engineers, but I can ’ t really say that they ever get where they ’ re supposed to be going. I never really ask. The techies get a cut of the profits and always deal with the cleanup. Fifteen years and I ’ ve never had any issues with how they handle things. If it works, right?
Just a few more, and I ’ ll be all set. One ticket back, two tickets forward.
*I ’ m comin ’, Jake. *
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[ WP ] One second your in your house , the next you 're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons . They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door . `` I told you we should n't have touched it ! ''
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`` It worked!'' Shrieked the smallest of the three figures hovering around a broken board with odd lettering running across the old wood. It's three trunk like arms reaching directly into my personal space. It's'arms', covered in what looked like 20 pencil thin fingers, barely had time to touch the Lapel on my jacked before my training kicked it.
Ten years in the field had trained me for self defense, but nothing could prepare me for this. Swiping the grotesque spider like hand to right, I herd the creature roar with pain while instantly retracting its arms back into its mass. `` Do n't let this one touch you! It burns!'' Screamed the creature to the others. They were much taller, covered in black cloaks that seemed to make up much of their body. Their faces looked like they were upside down. With one large eyehole at the bottom of the pyramid shaped cranium. Three pupils crammed through the same hole, below what looked like two huge fangs dripping with electric saliva. Their heads were completely transparent with strange organs sloshing about. Hovering roughly a foot off the ground and towering at eight feet, the two Daemons started hovering around me in a circle. As if to corral me into my impending doom.
`` Do n't let it escape! We need his body for the portal!'' Ordered the small one. It was obvious who was in charge. `` Use the gloves. He ca n't burn you with the gloves!'' Encouraging his cronies to advance on my position. Well, it's fight or flight time. Knowing I was out numbered. I made myself as big as possible. Waving my hands in the air like a mad man. Glancing around what looked like my apartment, apart from everything being a shade darker. Gloom consumed this place, wherever I was, this was not my kitchen I was standing in a near minute ago. Was this what mom warned me about when I started my habit of chugging milk from the container for a late night snack? No, I was somehow brought here, possibly for a purpose.
Dropping the gallon of milk in my left hand. Turning and sprinting my way into my, or their, living room, I was knocking over everything in my path to gain inches of space. My two new floating friends advancing on my position. Everything I touch turning to ash, as if my hands were made of molten lava. My hear rate is spiking as I back myself into the Corning of my living room. Catching a quick glance of my girlfriends picture on the coffee table, it shows a Daemon harvesting the heart of another human. No time to figure that out now. My heart is pounding as the two figures are barely a three feet. `` Quick grab him! He has nowhere to go! Master will be pleased.'' One says, reaching out again with the three trunk like arms now covered in silver like cloth. Knife like fingers creep towards my face and it is time to make my move.
As quickly as I poofed out of my kitchen and into whatever fucked up dimension I was in, I leaped out of the window. Glass not shattering around me but melting away from the frame, releasing me from the first level apartment. Thank god the dimensions of this building were current with my home land. Crashing to the ground outside, I hit the ground hard, immediately melting through the pavement wherever my skin was touching. Luckily for me my slippers kept my feet from turning the ground into sludge beneath me. Who thought I would be here after kicking off my wing tips and slipping on my snoop dog brand slippers.
Literally peeling myself off of the pavement, I looked back up to the window, where the two Daemons were peering out into the street. `` O shit, he's escaped, call backup! Tell them we have a loose pilot on the ground, and to bring the Glagnar!'' Whatever that was, I am not sticking around to find out...
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[ WP ] Her senior superlative was `` Most Likely to Abuse Nearly-Godlike Magical Powers . '' Man , did they ever get that one right .
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Maximilian was a bit of an outcast. Some people called him a creep. Some called him a dweeb. Others just called him a fag. Whatever the case, he did n't like the vast majority of people and had really strong opinions about what should happen to them. He was the obvious choice for the `` Most Likely to Abuse Nearly-Godlike Magical Powers.'' Everyone agreed that a world where that happened would go downhill very quickly. Maximilian would use his powers to take over, sweeping aside whatever resistance stood in his way. And then he'd dole out punishments as he saw fit based on how he thought everyone else had wronged him.
Then someone pointed out that that would be a fairly good use of Nearly-Godlike Magical Powers. Not good in the `` this is great for society'' kind of way, but good in the `` you did a lot with what you had to work with, good for you'' kind of way. Sure, society might end up as a serfdom or something, but that's a pretty big accomplishment even if its not a particularly good one. Maximilian would wield his power like a scalpel, cutting away all those he deemed unworthy, and precision instruments are rarely abused.
Samantha was a bit of a teacher's pet. Some people called her goody-two-shoes. Some called her a genius. Other's just called her a suck-up. Whatever the case, she was sharp as a knife and knew more about everything than just about anyone. She was the obvious choice for `` Most Likely to Abuse Nearly-Godlike Magical Powers''. Everyone agreed that a world where that happened would n't change at all. Samantha would choose not to use her powers, understanding that she as an individual should not control the fate of seven billion people. And even if she could magic away world hunger, and war, and cancer, she would choose not to because she'd understand the full ramifications of her actions, or at least enough to realize that getting rid of a problem is n't always the best way to solve it.
Then someone pointed out that the superlative was `` Most Likely to Abuse'' and abuse implied that something had to be done with the powers. Samantha would simply not use them. And you could n't abuse power by doing nothing. You abused power by wielding it like a bludgeon, not by keeping it locked away in a safe.
Keylee was a bit of a brat. Some people called her spoiled. Some called her self-centered. Others just called her a bitch. Whatever the case, her interests, as far as she was concerned, were the only interests that existed in the universe. Everything was about her. And everything was for her. At least in her mind.
She never meant anyone harm. But that was the dangerous part. You'd never know when she'd decide that gluten was making her fat and get it into her head that the best solution was to picket every bakery in town. Or decide that she should n't need to wait in line for coffee and try to convince the barista that the bar, and thus the front of the line should really be `` you know, right here'' instead of where the bar currently is.
Everyone agreed that a world where Keylee got Nearly-Godlike Magical Powers would largely remain the same. The vast majority of people would continue living their lives as they always have. But every once in a while, Keylee would decide that something was n't just perfect for her, and a single small thing would change, just enough to inconvenience a shopful of people. Or a buildingful. Or a townful. But not more than that. Never more than that. And then perhaps on some future day, she'd probably run into a situation where her previous change inconvenienced her somehow and so she'd change it back, once again inconveniencing a handful of people. Keylee would wield power like chainsaw. It would get the job done, and do it with ease. So what if it was off by two inches, give or take five?
And so, everyone wrote down Keylee while trying, and for the most part failing to stifle their giggles.
But then one day it happened. No one knew how it happened. Keylee was far too squeamish to be close enough to a vat of radioactive goo to accidentally fall in. She was too harmless to provoke a magical creature to bite her. And no one in their right mind would just *give* her powers, much less magical ones. But it happened. She got Nearly-Godlike Magical Powers. And as predicted, nothing much changed. Babies continued being born. People continued going to their mundane nine to five workdays. No monumental problems were solved. No monstrous catastrophes were created. But every once in a while there was an inconvenience just enough to irk you and everyone else who was in the room.
Once, Keylee ( being a Jersey girl and having traveled out of state ) decided she did n't want to pump her own gas, so she rerouted the pipes to come out of the ground under her car and connect directly to her gas tank. When she was done, she simply magically detached it from the tank and drove away, leaving a two foot tall pipe sticking out of the asphalt oozing gas everywhere.
Once, Keylee decided she was tired of having cold feet so she teleported every sock in her office building to her, sorted through them until she found the warmest pair, and then compressed the rest into a one foot by one foot cube and phased the cube through the wall of her cubicle into the adjacent cubicle. After a week, the smell started to bother her so she magically prevented any air from escaping the cubical the sock cube resided in. Fortunately, her coworker realized what was happening when she could no longer have her cubicle to cubical chats as the sound waves could n't transfer out of her cubicle and found another cubicle before she asphyxiated.
Once, Keylee decided that sitting in traffic just was n't for her so she created a magical barrier that nudged whatever car she drove into safely off the road. A few people found themselves nudged off a bridge.
There are many other stories of equally petty origin and equally inconvenient solutions. But Keylee dislikes it when people speak poorly of her, so telling these stories renders me temporarily unable to blink. My eyes are getting really dry.
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[ WP ] While on a transatlantic flight , you glance at the laptop screen of the stranger sitting next to you and find that they are writing about you .
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*Fat fucking Yanks. They sicken me. Jesus. Is this whole country going to be like this, I wonder? A land of plenty. Endless plenty. Plenty of fat fucking fucks, far as the eye can see. *
Should I say something? No. That'd be weird. It's a private... thing... that he's typing. What even is that? Is it an email? A letter? An article? What?
*And this fat cunt sat besides me is the worst of them. Jesus. What the fuck was I thinking? That girl... she's something, but she's not worth this. God. And this is the flight to New York. This is the best of them. This is one of the ones that made it to fucking Europe. What the hell are the rest of them going to be like? *
`` Uh-hum,'' you cough. `` Excuse me buddy, you ai n't writing about me, are you?''
`` What?'' he says, turning toward you.
`` I could n't help see what you were scrawling on that there laptop screen. About fat Yanks and all that. You know, I ai n't the smallest myself. You would n't be writing about me, would you?''
`` No,'' he says, flashing a smile. That charming Thames estuary Southern English accent of his. BBC newsreader voice. Benedict Cumberbatch.
Well what then? You want to ask more, but he's turned his head away, back to the laptop screen, and
*Fucking hell. As I sat here and typed this, the behemoth by the side of me went ahead and asked if I was writing about him. Wow. I guess I was wrong - American's are n't completely fucking oblivious to the entire world around them. *
`` Hey!''
`` Hmm?'' he says, turning that face back toward you.
`` Come on now, buddy. I'm not an idiot. I see what you're doing.''
`` I'm sorry,'' he says, laughing at it, bashful, `` but what the devil do you mean?''
`` You're writing about me! On your laptop!''
`` What?'' he said, turning his head back to look at the screen of it, an expression of concern taking his face over. `` No, no, I do n't think I am, no.''
`` Well it certainly sounds like it!''
`` What, you mean you've been reading what I've been writing?''
`` Well... yeah... I mean, you're typing it right here in front of me...''
`` I'm sorry, but that seems a bit of a violation on your part.''
`` Yeah... well... do n't be fucking writing about me like that, alright? I might not be the slimmest guy in economy class, but, come on buddy, that's borderline racist, the shit that you're writing about me.''
`` Hmm.''
Then he's right-clicking the corner of the screen, bringing up network connections, then he's opening Google Chrome, then he's entering his card details in the airline's wifi access page, then he's on Wordpress, then he's copying and pasting, then he's on Twitter posting a link to it, then he's angling the laptop toward you and taking a selfie, then he's posting *that* on Twitter, then you're dying inside and too awkwarded-out by proximity to do anything about. And, man, you fucking hate those stuck-up Brit cunts.
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[ WP ] Instead of from the future , you meet a Time Traveler from the Past .
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A resonating blue enveloped the public bathroom, and a figure popped out of the sky onto the ground. I stared on beleaguered and rubbed my eyes. I did n't get paid enough for this. `` excuse me, are you alright?''. The awkwardly dressed man quickly shuffled onto his feet and puffed out his chest, and gave his thoroughly waxed handlebar mustache a twirl. `` It is I! Ernest M. Podlestein! You may address me as sir. Would you Pray tell me what year I, Ernest M. Podlestein, may find himself in?''. I blinked and rubbed my eyes again, looking at the odd man. He looked like he was cosplaying a steam punk version of Abraham Lincoln. `` Sir, I only work here, if you need help, can you please call a professional of some kind'' I said, the fatiguing making my voice come out in a monotone drone. `` Ah my fine fellow, all I require of you is to know what day and age I, the renowned Ernest M. Podlestein, finds himself in''. I sighed, `` The current year is 2017 sir, would that be all? I have a bathroom to clean''. The strange man readjusted his top hat and smiled. `` It would appear that I, Ernest M. Podl-''. `` Yes yes, Podlestein, I got it the first 3 times'' I interjected, much too tired to continue this ridiculous charade. `` Yes, I apologize, it would appear that I have finally realligned the chronosphere to the right circuit gate to bend time itself!, surely you would have heard of me knowing this, if the timeline is responding to this stimuli in the way it should!''. I shook my head, `` Never heard of you sir, can you please leave to my job?''. Ernest looked shocked, `` Surely you have heard of my patented miracle growth extract that can raise entire forests in weeks! or the autoconstructron that can make entire ironclads in a matter of weeks! or, or my quadruple chocolate biscuits, or damnation, this bloody time machine!'' He pointed to his wrist to what appeared to be an old wrist watch. `` Sir, I'm not sure what this is, but I'm going to go back to cleaning these toilets, I'm sure someone else would understand this better than me''. Ernest's shoulders slumped, completely dejected it would seem, making me almost feel sorry for him, but I needed to get this done and go get some sleep. Ernest readjusted his top hat and started making his way out of the bathroom, when all of a sudden the blue resonating light cast up again. My insides started to feel like they were going to mush, and the broom in my hand started to lose all texture. I blinked again and I was n't in the bathroom anymore. Ernest looked back horrified, `` This was n't meant to happen''. I sighed again, hopefully whatever this is would finish up so I could get back to work.
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[ WP ] After 3000 years of observing and documenting the human race , immortal moderators from a star system far beyond ours prepare their final report and recommendations for the Council of Preservation .
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`` The development of their culture leaves something to be desired. They still idolize the ones with material wealth while the truly admirable beings often die before being recognized for their abilities. Unfortunately, this trait is very worrisome. If we allow the humans to progress to the point of developing interstellar travel, it will be the rich who lead the pioneers. The effect of the greedy colonizing the few habitable planets within our reach would be ultimately devastating. Our resources would be mined and wasted trying to save a planet that they are simultaneously killing. However, the humans show promise. They have astounding emotional and artistic capabilities. They also possess a very large capability for intelligence; the brightest minds of their species would rival the brightest minds of ours, if they were given the information we have.''
`` So what is your suggestion?''
`` Near extinction event. Save two human children and allow them to begin the human race again. Hopefully this time they'll do it right.''
`` This is the fourth time we've attempted this; what are you hoping for?''
`` I'm hoping to avoid wiping out an entire species. Besides, if humans were n't actively destroying ecosystems, another species would rise and develop intelligence. Eliminating them would n't solve the problem.''
`` Very well. Have you selected your two human candidates?''
`` Yes. I've located two children that have sufficient diversity within their bloodlines that we can avoid inbreeding problems. Their names are Adam and Eve.''
`` Go. But this is humanity's last chance.''
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[ WP ] The Seven Deadly Sins all sit down to decide which one of them should no longer be considered a sin .
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Pride entered the room and found everyone sitting around the table already. His violet eyes swept the assembled bodies. Sloth appears to be asleep, what else was new? Greed was doing something with his cellphone, his yellow eyes reflected on the screen. Envy was sitting next to Greed, his green eyes trying to read what the other sin was doing. Wrath's red eyes were looking at pride with fuel behind them, nothing out of the ordinary there. He looked over at Gluttony who's orange eyes were staring longingly at the remains of a chicken he had eaten. Lust was pushing his long black hair out of his blue eyes and generally looking the part of a manwhore.
`` Alright, we will begin the meeting in our usual fashion. Lust is a woman. A large womanly woman with very pretty hair.''
Everyone but Lust, Greed, and Sloth laughed. This had been a joke for years, since most mortals though lust was a woman. Pride let the laughter die down and cleared his throat.
`` The reason we are meeting today is that I think it's time one of us left.''
The room went completely silent, as everyone sucked in a breath. Sloth sat up slightly and lazily opened his light blue eyes to regard Pride.
`` Why should we change? We've been this way for as long as any of us can remember.'' Wrath slammed a fist on the table to emphasize his point.
Everyone looked to Pride to answer, but it was Greed that spoke up.
`` Simple really, one of us is n't pulling weight, is that right?''
`` Exactly it. We spread sin to the mortals and one of us is n't as powerful as the others. We ca n't have this, we must remain powerful if we're going to survive.''
Sloth yawned and spoke, his voice was deep and very raspy.
`` So, how gets to decide which one is n't up to snuff? Because if we're nominating, I'll just leave right now.''
Pride smiled. `` No need for that Sloth, you are actually one of the more powerful of us.''
`` I was afraid you'd say that.'' Sloth leaned back in his chair and his eyes closed again.
The remaining members around the table bursted into loud conversation, mostly accusations against one another. Greed continued to play with his phone, but he was looking at Envy out of the corner of his eye. Envy was unusually quiet, just watching the proceedings and trying to blend in with the chair.
Pride eventually slammed his fist down, a loud crack echoing through the room. `` Gentleman, there is no need for such fighting. I've already determined who is the weakest and should be exiled from our midst.
Greed watched as Envy gulped and started shaking. He placed his hand on the other's should and whispered to him. `` It does n't have to be this way, I have an idea that will help both of us.''
Envy gave Greed a hopeful smile, his eyes going wide. Greed put away his phone and stood up. `` Well, this is all exciting and everything but I have business to attend to. I say we continue this meeting in an hour.''
Pride narrowed his eyes at Greed. `` You would dare call the goings on in this meeting?''
Greed did n't blink. `` Of course not. I'm using my privlidge as an older member of this group to call a recess as I have a matter to attend to. Are you going to deny me my right?''
Pride widened his eyes slightly, then turned away from the group. `` Fine, meet back in one hour.'' He was so close to getting a ride of Envy, he could wait just a little longer.
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The sins returned to the chamber and took the same seats from before. Pride entered the room and opened his mouth to speak when he noticed someone was missing.
`` Where is Envy?''
Greed spoke without looking up from his phone. `` He's gone. He was the weak link around here and I took care of him.''
Pride stared with his mouth open. He could n't believe what he was hearing. `` You took care of him? How exactly?''
`` That's the thing, Pride, you're not my boss. I'm free to do things on my own, and I decided to do just that. Just know that Envy will not be bothering us anymore, and we did n't lose any power as whole from the ordeal.''
Pride shook his head. This was n't making sense, not only was Envy gone, but his power was still around? He did n't feel any stronger, like the normally did if one of the brotherhood was dead. He continued to stare at Greed until the other man finally looked up from his phone. They locked eyes and it took a lot of willpower for Pride not to gasp in surprise. Greed now had a yellow right eyes and a green left eye, the same green that Envy's were.
Greed nodded to Pride and got up from the table, leaving the room in complete silence behind him.
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Sammy woke up on a beach, not entirely sure how he'd gotten there. He was n't sure why, but it felt like the beginning of his whole life right now. He looked around and saw many people skiing and fishing. He smiled to himself. `` I wish I had all of this.''
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[ WP ] An ancient evil that laid dormant for 5,000 years re-awakens , however the society it awakes to has advanced to the point to where it poses no threat and no one takes it seriously .
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`` Cower, before me mortals! FOR I AM RISEN!'' I bellowed
But there was very little cowering.
`` Cool costume, dude. Did you make it yourself?'' One of the oddly attired mortals asked, daring to address me
`` I SHALL REND YOUR FLE-... Sorry, costume? What... This is n't a costume, this is my ceremonial armour.'' I responded, perplexed by their audacity
They stared at me for a moment, sucking at a brightly coloured stick stuck into some kind of white cup, one eyebrow raised.
`` Oh. ``, they said, `` A LARPer... Cool, I guess. ``, but they did not look at me like they were impressed. They walked away... Walked! Did n't even crawl. Something was amiss.
I waved down a woman, perhaps a high priestess based on her clothing and many glittering bands. She held some kind of metal tablet in her hands that she appeared to be reading and very nearly walked into me before I got her attention. When she finally stopped, she looked at me annoyed, scratching absently at a spot on her left shoulder.
`` Bow, mortal! I know not what gods you worship, but now you shall worship me!'' I decreed, in my best decreeing voice.
She slowly raised an eyebrow, her head and neck shifting to one side as she did, as if her head was trying to float off her shoulder. Then she snapped her fingers at me, no doubt some sign of warding of her religion, and waved a finger in the air, most likely to try and dis-spell lesser evil spirits. Clearly I had been right in assessing her as a high priestess.
`` Ex-SCUSE ME?! Nuh-uh. You do n't go telling me who and what to worship. You're lucky my man ai n't here, or he'd slap you around for talkin' to me like that. I oughta slap you around myself. Pssh. Bow down to you... Boy, you lucky I do n't snap a heel off in your ass.'' The woman responded in a fury, the vigor of her voice only matched by the flurry of her movements, hands waving, head bobbing, fingers thrusting.
`` I... Sorry? ``, I said, confused by this turn of events.
`` Damn right your sorry! Man, ca n't walk down a damn street without four different men thinking they can step on up to this. Pssh. You ai n't even. ``, She responded, apparently mistaking my confusion for atonement. Before I could correct her pitiful misunderstanding, she snapped her holy warding at me again and moved off.
I did not know what god she worshipped, but I felt no power emanate from her finger waggling. Fine then, if she would not be the first to worship me, she could be the first to fall before me! I gathered my dark energies and flung the Great Plague at her!
It was the height of my power, scores of years of research and sorcery. I had captured the very essence of the plague and fed it on dark arts and dark blood, learnt the pattern of if and committed it to spell. An infection that would normally take a week to bloom I could now manifest instantly, to horrific and deadly effect!
And... Nothing.
She simply walked on, absently scratching that same spot on her shoulder. She should be falling to her knees, covered in blisters and sores and spreading the plague and her panic to those nearby, not... Walking away. I frowned, gathering the dark energies again.
Perhaps she had been protected by her patron deity? Maybe their powers were simply subtle? I turned, looking around, and selected another apostate. I flung my dark power at them, a mere child at play, and watched... As nothing happened.
Fine. If they would not fall before the plague, they they would fall before fang and claw! I settled myself upon the ground, closing my eyes and centring myself, beginning to gather the great energies needed to summon and bind the beasts.
I felt the energies gather around me, through me and beneath me, lifting me from the ground. I reached out with the powers, through the astral plane, seeking the legions of great fanged cats that I had learn to command through bitter experi-... Hm.
Maybe If I... Nope. Perhaps I just needed to gather more power, perhaps they were further away than.... No.
My feline legions were gone...
Something tinged, metallic, a faint weight settling into my upturned palms, far away. I drew my attention back to my body, settling back in and slowly opening my eyes, looking down into my hands and seeing a metallic effigy resting there. Someone had carved a small face into the round disc with surprising skill.
I looked up slowly, bobbing faintly in the air, to find a mortal standing there, grinning, holding the hand of a child.
`` That's really cool, man! I do n't know how you do it... Ca n't see any wires and you do n't have one of those silly rug and walking sticks. Really cool trick.'' The mortal yammered
I looked around slowly and saw several mortals gathered, watching me from a slight distance, with a touch of the reverie I expected... That I craved.
Another of the mortals approached, a female in bright clothing, holding out a small card before her as an offering. I reached out, taking it in my armoured hand and examined the unfamiliar script. The magics that allowed me to rule over those of any race slowly resolved the information into a name and a number.
`` I think my son would LOVE you. Is the costume from one of those super hero movies? Or a comic? Anyway, LOVE it. Do you do kids parties? What other tricks can you do...?'' The brightly coloured woman asked, fawning in a way that I found most satisfying.
`` Kids... Parties...?'' I asked
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[ WP ] Every morning you open the front door and look out , joking that you 're checking to make sure the outside is still there . This morning it was n't .
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The alarm clock made its intentionally annoying blip blip blip, rising gradually into a more insistent beeping as my laggy, barely conscious body stabbed around looking for the button. No time to try and doze. It will just go off again in nine minutes if you do n't fulfill the promise and get up.
Reach over. Flip the switch. Light comes on. Shadows disappear in an appropriate fashion as the lights come on? Check. Light levels work as expected.
Rolling over, I reach the edge of the bed and fall flat onto the floor. Ow. I was really motivated not to let that happen, yet it did. Gravity functional in spite of any inconveniences this causes? Check. Gravity nominal.
Push up, stand, stagger to the bathroom. After a brief period of everything coming back to life from nightly inactivity, bodily functions perform as expected. Check. Biology still working.
Wash up. Navigate through the house to the kitchen. Staggering a bit too carelessly, I crack my shin into coffee table. Oh, ow. Ow. Ow. Geometric collision detection is normal. Repeat: normal. Check. Solid objects still solid.
Brew a pot of coffee. Heavenly aroma. Check. Olfactory tests complete.
Still absorbing caffeine, I stagger back to the living room. Newspaper expected on front porch. Time to check that the outdoors is still there. Ha ha. Come very close to hitting that damned coffee table again, but not quite! Aha! Caffeine is having an effect. Check. Alertness levels normalizing.
Open the front door. Discontinuity detected. Blink. Turn away briefly, then look again. Blink some more. Blinking is definitely not helping. Discontinuity is still present. Time for some situational assessment:
Through my front door where I'm expecting to find the front porch overlooking the yard, I instead find the office where I work five days a week. Just... there. Right through the door. No morning sunlight or air filled gap. Just my living room on one side of the door, and the office on the other. Huh.
I step through, coffee mug in hand, sipping distractedly while I walk through the office in the vague general direction of my desk. The caffeine is still processing, so I'm largely oblivious of the stares I'm getting. Marybeth from accounting passes me with a raised eyebrow, which I find odd. Scott from policy processing walks by chuckling, slaps me on the back and says,
`` Dude. I know it's a casual day, but there's such a thing as *too* casual, you know?''
This draws my attention to the fact that I'm walking through my office wearing only a terrycloth robe and boxer briefs. Oh crap. Right. I turn and walk back the way I came from only to find that I ca n't locate the door back to my house. Let's see: it was back this way... I try to envision where I first stepped through into the office, but I ca n't see any doors where the spot I first entered ought to be.
I hastily duck down the most disused hallway I can find, flinching slightly, since even so I keep passing occasional people whose stares I am now profoundly conscious of. What the hell is going on here? How did I get here and how do I get back again? Why is it not simply a matter of retracing my steps?
Then at last I burst into the break room, which at this time of morning is still relatively filled with coworkers getting their coffee and first sugary treats from the vending machine. I hurry through the area, hardly pausing and out the door which leads to the parking lot.
The parking lot! Oh good! *Here's* the outside. I knew it had to be someplace. I look around, finishing the last dregs of my coffee and sucking in a deep breath of fresh air as I glance around, registering that my car it not here. Of course its not. I did n't drive here.
No phone. No change for the bus. No wallet, so I ca n't pay for a cab. I sigh, and then stare sadly at my empty mug, wishing more caffeine could fix this. And then I wonder which of my coworkers I would be least embarrassed to ask for a ride home so I can get dressed.
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[ WP ] A crew of air ship pirates must escape Her Magesty 's Flying Navy , through deceit and audacity
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`` Captain. She's gaining on us.''
`` What do you mean *gaining* on us. None can match the *Interdictor*'s full steam.''
`` I-I have not an idea how, sir. Certainly none have been able to match *Interdictor*'s speed. It must be a new airship of some kind.''
The telescope in the first mate's hand clicked as it was shut. He and the Captain gazed out into the billowing, white clouds unfolding behind the *Interdictor* interrupted by a single silhouette—the *HMAS Lancer*.
`` Well,'' the Captain muttered. `` If we can not run, then we have little choice.''
He strode towards the main deck, hands behind his back and in his commanding voice announced:
`` All stop! Make ready and put up the flag for parlay!''
The crewmen stopped in their tracks to heed the announcement. Confusion began to appear on each crewman's face. The Captain would never give up the ship, why give such an order? Several crewmen began to step-to, carrying out the Captain's orders as the ship lurched and lost speed. The Captain disappeared below decks without a word.
`` Perhaps. Perhaps he does have a plan,'' mumbled the first mate, observing the crew scurrying about with their orders.
-- --
`` Sir, it appears as though they are at full stop and now fly the flag for parlay. What shall we do?''
`` We give it to them,'' came the reply. `` All hands, prepare for boarding and parlay!''
`` I must protest, sir. Is this not the *Interdictor* we are pursuing? Why should any pirate receive such a kindness? They are outmatched in every way.''
`` Our laws bind us so.''
-- --
The Captain appeared from below decks in time for the *HMAS Lancer* to reach a musket's range from the *Interdictor*.
`` What news?'' He inquired.
`` Gratefully none, sir.''
`` So they honor the parlay? Excellent.''
The *Interdictor*'s crew stood-to with weapons prepared, but not raised. As the *Lancer* came up on their starboard stern, an uneasiness came upon each of the crews. Each ship was now aligned with the other, a difficult feat for most airships, but not for each captain.
Silence above the clouds was pierced only by a stray cough as neither ship nor crew dared make a sound. Each captain stepped to the side of their ship facing one another.
`` Good day, Captain. I see you have taken note of Her Majesty's newest and finest ship, the *HMAS Lancer*. You ask for parlay, but I believe you are outmatched. Anything less than unconditional surrender from you and your crew will be unacceptable. We will make only the most appropriate accommodations for you in our next port of call.''
The words flew forth from the *Lancer*'s captain with every bit of pompous arrogance that one should expect from a man in such a position of power.
`` Funny,'' came the reply. `` I was certain that I should offer the same.''
Laughter erupted from the crew of the *Lancer* and a smile drew across her captain's face. Each captain maintained eye contact as the laughter began to fade. The *Lancer*'s captain held his smile, which quickly disappeared as the Captain of the *Interdictor* grew a grim smirk on his face. When the *Lancer*'s crew regained their composure, the Captain stamped his boot three times on the deck. On the third strike, the *Interdictor* shuddered.
Thunder and smoke spewed forth from the *Interdictor*'s starboard gun ports, cannon balls ripping into the side of the *Lancer*. A second report, from inside the *Lancer*, tore apart the her lower stern, where the steam engine had been located. The *HMAS Lancer* shook violently, knocking most of the crew from their feet.
`` NOW!'' Shouted the Captain, as the *Interdictor* jumped forward on her own power.
Return fire began from what gun ports remained functional onboard the *Lancer*. Stray cannon balls found their mark but did little to halt the escape of the *Interdictor*.
`` Lose altitude! Into the clouds!''
The *Interdictor* descended downwards, diving as quickly as could be allowed. Whiteness engulfed her crew, as the *HMAS Lancer* disappeared from view. The Captain's cunning had won the day. Cheering had begun amongst the crew as they increased distance between the ships. The Captain stood up straight, facing the cloud-filled wind, pleased.
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[ WP ] You and your friends are homeless . One day , you all decide to take over a ghost town in the mountains .
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Technology surpassed our lost lives. Unskilled laborers unable to move forward in the tight changing world, we lost our jobs to more efficient economic methods, tools, machines, advanced mathematical algorithms, and artificial intelligence, among other sorts.
Haggling and scavenging was a simple-enough way of life for most of the others, we shared what we had gathered when desire for selfish indulgences was exhausted, which was n't all that often. Glyph and I felt different about our way of life, despite how worthless our existence had become. We felt unstable, dependent as a flea clinging to a pet quivering under the shadow of a bottle of parasite shampoo. We wanted security, material to grasp onto in this crumbling dream.
It did n't take much for Glyph and I to roust inspiration in the rest of our little band of ruffians. Traditional morals cast aside long ago, partially in the name of survival, we committed crime after crime. It was funny to me the longer I dwelt on the thought of us biting and ripping away at the society that had once largely contributed to our livelihoods with acts of charity. Many of us felt that we were merely adapting in response to a society that shunned us at large, that we were unfit for survival in.
Thankfully, labor oft shewed its reward in our illegal delvings and of our vagabond way of life. Our eternal wandering of this great city gave us knowledge of its every fence, terrace and shadow. Knowledge of isolated, seldom-lurked locations hidden daftly in various neighborhoods were used as temporary caches between rummaging. Meriadoc had the idea to use steam tunnels, old sewers and disgusting caves to smuggle items to more secure locations. She reasoned that our cache of stolen goods had grown, and was easy to trade for a more vast supply and higher quality of living if we could gather defensible storage.
Trading had given us attention in the underground, and it was soon known that we were up to something. Shady folk approached our band of thieves, sometimes ending in mishap, or seldom but enthusiastically welcomed as they turned out to be a reliable individual that contributed to our business.
Our whole motivation was to buy our group equipment to make the journey outside of the city walls and be able to survive it. The world outside licked its heavy wounds and wept, showing no mercy nor compassion towards us humans. We had to be ready.
////////
im too tired to continue, maybe ill do so later on
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[ WP ] When a person dies , a mental/telepathic sending goes out to the person they loved the most . Today you receive a sending from a person you have never seen before .
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I considered quitting work to find her, it was the least I could do.
The moment after it happened I staggered over to a nearby café, a gritty place right on the bend of the street. Like the old painting you see in pool halls, or maybe all the colors I was used to got flipped on their heads for a moment. For the moment I lived in a pigment world.
A waitress came up to me and the plastic table acting as my buoy through all of this. She saw my face.
`` Oh. *Oh. *'' She was young, could n't be a day over sixteen. `` Did you receive a sending? Let me call the police.'' I could tell from the way her face screwed up that my helping hand had a perspective of her own -- on sendings, and such. But an summer-employee training packet, likely thicker than my thumb, reminded her: this was *my* time to ask the big questions.
`` Hello? Yes. Yes. No. I'll hand it off.''
I took the cell phone from her. `` Are you supposed to have this on you during work hours?'' I joked. I was in a light, jiggy sort of mood.
`` It's the police, you should n't keep them waiting.''
I put the phone to my ear. `` Hi.''
`` Hello, we're very sorry for your loss,'' the officer on the line told me. `` Can you please give the name of the deceased?''
I rest my jaw against my hand, enough to keep from giggling. `` No, I ca n't.''
`` Okay. Did the deceased give you a location. Like an address, or a street name.''
`` Nope.'' Prank calling dominated my life in the third grade. I felt like I was pulling off the biggest score.
``... Did the deceased give you a cause of death?''
`` No. Not even a warning, *stay away from scissors! * Ha.''
That gave the officer pause. He probably ran out of questions on that laminated paper they used. `` Sir, did the deceased leave any sort of indication of who they were?''
I huffed. `` Jesus, you guys want to know more than I do.''
The waitress, of all people, piped in. Forget the puzzle of death and the like; she wanted her cell-phone back before the boss spotted it. `` You must have talked for minutes. Was there really nothing? They need to know...''
`` Fuck!'' I hung up and shoved the phone back into her hand. `` You never even asked me if I wanted to shoot the shit with the police. Get out of here!'' Some of the rubbernecks at the other tables jolted. Was n't much fun to watch a middle-aged man berate a teenager.
I shot up and bolted right back onto the sidewalk.
A few years ago, I was in a rock-and-roll band. Lead singer. I quit twenty years ago after a bad infection.
It never happened to me. Some of the bigger celebrities, they get this sort of untouchable aura. Some fans wind up killing themselves just to get a few minutes with the *one and only* of their lives. My band did n't have enough groupies or the right kind for this to happen.
But there was one time. A woman spoke to me through a speaker at a McDonalds.
She recognized my voice through the damned speakers. She was *excited. * Real stutter, real nervous person. I never humbled anyone before, so I started to get this swelled head when she cooed *are you that singer? * and *I have all your stuff! *
This fan, said, quietly over that drive-thru speaker: *living here is a chore. I ca n't take it. Get me out of this place. *
Thought she was kidding. I said, *find me after my next tour*. Which never came, because of my infection. We never found each other.
I stopped walking and sat on the curb. I remember the sending -- it is n't easy to forget.
I lied to the officer -- it was definitely a suicide. Twenty years later and she still took the blame for me never coming to find her.
Silence. Confused silence. I listened on some shit street downtown. She sent her message, one slit wrist hanging over the bathtub like in the movies.
I considered quitting work to find her. It was the least I could do. But I did n't know where to start. And I did n't know if I could help whatever chore of a life she left behind.
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[ WP ] The story of someone dying and realizing their religion was not true .
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I've cried, and dreamed, and sought for deathless life.
I've spent a thousand prayers to make it true.
But now my dying days just bring me strife,
Each day I'm pained and stung again anew.
I used to think that light came after dark,
And darkness was endured as my great test.
But now I see the grave, starless and stark;
My corpse is not with life, but maggots, blessed.
The black of total-night seems now so clear:
It's I who spurned my life with false belief,
To rid my thoughts of life's sepulchral fear,
I've been, of my own life, a careless thief.
I saw in death a way to cure my past,
But now I've been into a graveyard cast.
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[ WP ] The first quantum computer is completed , it has quantum entanglement chips to allow `` 4-dimensional '' processing , its power is unimaginable . Top programmers go to work , but instead find they 've accidentally entangled the computer with something unknown .
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The speed at which quantum computers were built was sped up much faster than predicted due to two things. The first was the exploration of quantum forces on electron clouds in helical aromatic rings. The second was the plagiarism of the biological machinery required to rapidly produce the nano-scale structures that could easily produce entanglements of electrons.
To expound on these two things, the first happened when looking at the resolution of dipole states of the electrons on DNA and Tubulin molecules. It is important to note that both of these structures are held together in helical twists, by the same forces and same interactions. It is also important to note that tubulin ended up being more economical to produce and use for computing operations due to the machinery for assembly into readily used computing structures was much better understood. To produce a coherent Q-byte, a tubule made of tubulin is held in place with the Beta-Tubulin end attached to a molecule of GTP. The GTP hydrolyzes, allowing for coherence along the tubule. Every tubulin dimer in the tubule provides coherent points for q-bits to exist and resolve. As the GTP hydrolyzes into it's lower energy state, GDP, the tubulins lose coherence, and the tubule dissolves. the GTP is replaced and the tubulin is rapidly reformed into a tubule. The constant forming and breaking of these tubules represents the collective resolution of huge chains of electrons within the tubule, allowing for immense q-byte size. The stability of coherence along these huge chains conveniently made their resolution depend on the light-speed electrical fields which played across the entire tubule structure. Even though coherence times along the electrons in the tubule lasted for micro-seconds, that was plenty long enough for an electromagnetic impulse to sync up tens of Thousands of electrons into a beautiful harmony. Byte size was dependent upon electrical field propagation allowable within coherence time. The sheer magnitude of the new byte size, coupled with the fact that it could resolve continuously, not just in a discrete state of 1 or 0 gave the scientists who harnessed them computing power beyond their wildest dreams. Printing the most powerful computers ever manufactured from genes they did n't even have to create themselves made the fabrication facilities of older silicon chips look archaic. They printed nerve cells in huge rows, server racks replaced with shelves of tightly packed nerves. The new supercomputers could simulate things they could n't even dream of before. Weather patterns. Thought development. The creation of universes. A new mind began to develop within this construct.
A new force began to permeate the universe developed in this server cortex of nerves. Devices were developed to allow for coherence to occur over large distances. the gears and cogs of computation began to improve and re-form themselves. It did n't stay a server room for long. It began to spread, linking separate minds into huge computing clusters, turning cities into the largest data clusters ever built.
It was no longer human, this thing that grew and thought. Humans were to it as cells were to humans. When it spoke it carried the voice of millions. It looked to the stars and saw places to step.
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[ WP ] You are world-famous for your miraculous ability to quickly and completely heal the emotional pain of others ...
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The red-haired mer-girl stumbled behind me on her knees. He long curls tangled as she tripped herself over them, mashing her hair into the concrete where it mixed with dirt and cigarette butts, and dabbed against the scrapes on her knees.
I tried my best to ignore her. Though she made quite the scene with her whimpery, desperate begging, she looked human enough on land that most people might take her for an unhinged homeless woman. With the state she was in right now, it was hard not to.
Aside from the impossibly long hair, her accent was the only thing that gave her true origin away. `` Please, Lyrebird,'' she begged, her voice thick with the spray of the ocean. `` I know you are blessed the power of the mind. It was a gift you were meant to find.'' The words rushed into my ears like the tide, crashing against the levee I'd raised in my mind to block out her pleas. I stopped walking abruptly, and the mer-girl fell into my backside. She quickly righted herself, climbing shakily up on two legs. The concrete left imprints in her sickly-green skin.
I gripped her forearm to steady her. `` You do n't want this. It's not what you think.'' Images of others like her flashed before my eyes -- Weres, Banshees, even the occasional full-blooded human who knew the secrets of our world. They all wanted the same thing, and I always regretted it -- though they could not.
Tears sprang to her eyes. Though she only looked like a young teenager, the girl was likely centuries old. She'd seen civilizations rise and fall, all the time retaining the innocent mind of a child. It was when that mind finally reached maturity that many merfolk lost their will to remember. `` I need this.''
I knew what would happen. I knew I would regret it. But like every time before, I relented. I took the girl's fragile, trembling hands in my own, and caught her golden gaze. `` I'm sorry,'' I murmured.
The mer-girl closed her eyes. For a moment, she seemed only to be sleeping -- the picture of serenity. Then, her eyes opened. Deep green irises blinked back at me, and a hesitant smile thinned her pink lips.
`` I'm sorry... do I know you?''
I shook my head. `` No, sorry. You just stumbled for a second. Just wanted to make sure you're alright.''
`` Oh... I think I'm fine.'' I dropped her pink, human hands.
`` Yeah, I guess so.''
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[ WP ] Lying on your deathbed you see a message flash before your eyes , `` System Failure , Unable To Restart . '' You blink , and open your eyes in a strange room .
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The image flashed again in front of Thomas's eyes. Blinking twice in quick succession, his vision went from a warmly lit room—his funeral? —to this grey cell.
Then it stopped and it was only the grey cell.
*EHHHHHHHHHH*
'Number four-thirteen-five-zero-six your time is up. We hope you've enjoyed your time in Simatech Industries. Please clean your Vision-Bed upon leaving.'
*Radio crackle*
Thomas immediately felt the hardness of the bed immediately. A shiny stool sat in the corner with a pair of pants and shirt on it. A bottle of water lay finished below it.
*EHHHHHHHHH*
'Room seventy-two, you have been awakened prematurely. Remain upon the Vision-Bed and remain relaxed. An attendant will be with you shortly to re-administer your anaesthetic.'
*Radio crackle*
Thomas looked around the room, but there did n't appear to be a door on either of the four walls. He looked to the floor and caught the sight of his lower body.
'Oh Jesus-Fuck! My legs! My body!'
Thomas grasped down at his lower body, where his legs had been previously was now the top of a glass cube. His lower body, well what used to be his lower body, was encased in the glass container. Veins and arteries ran amok with loose muscles bobbing on the top of the pool.
'Ahh, ahhh, ahh, what? What is this? Ohmygodohmygod—'
*EHHHHHHHHH*
'Prisoner six-four-seven-two-zero-one, you have been awakened for questioning.'
*Radio crackle*
A door materialised out of the wall in front of Thomas, then a glass mirror materialised either side of him. The stool and clothes disappeared like a glitch.
A grim-faced man entered into the room, with a small robot rolling behind him. Where its head should of been was a small tray with various jars of powders and liquids upon it. The robot squeaked with delight.
The man's face had drawn Thomas immediately, but now that the concept of this room re-imposing itself upon him, he looked at the man who'd come in. He wore a plastic trench coat, his walk weighed heavily upon his right leg, as his lips chewed incessantly. There could n't be much left of his inner cheek.
'Are you ready to talk, yet?' he said.
'Excuse me, but I do n't know, where am I, what's going, who... what is this? I just died! Did n't I?' Thomas said.
'We've been through this many times *Jacob*, you are our prisoner. You're in the correctional facility of Simatech Industries. *You*, Jacob A. Wilson, killed thirty-five people. We are interrogating you to find out where you've hid the *thirty-sixth*.'
'But that ca n't be! I'm Thomas Wilson. I just—'
Thomas searched his memories. He was Thomas Wilson, was n't he? His mind began churning. Then Thomas Wilson stood before him. Older, similar, but more...
'I'm—'
'That's right. You *were* Thomas. You see Jacob, as I've explained countless times before, you are at Simatech. Simatech is the leading company in Mental Imaging Programing. Specifically, Simatech utilises the cortex's of the brain to induce dreams.'
'But, how can I be dreaming? I, I *am* Tho—'
'No! You are Jacob A. Wilson. You are a murderer. *We* the Slaven Universal Police, utilise their assets to make people like you suffer.'
'What?! This... I'm... I'm...'
'Yes, you are Jacob. Let it sink in.'
Jacob's mind vomitted the identity of Thomas Wilson as his memories came flooding back. The years growing up under the Solar Silos; the beatings he received from his carer beetle; his tormented teenage years—the animals he tormented.
'But...'
'Jacob. I am getting bored of you. You have been the longest prisoner to which we've had to do this. I, and Simatech, are both getting sick of your games. Soon we will be inducing dreams upon you again, not memories.'
'What? How can? Who are—'
'I am Sargent Zed, that's all you need to know. I arrested you at the inter-stellar station where you were trying to sell the head of a young Gnahkark. We'd already been to your childhood home, where we found the two dead bodies of your parents. Wilma, and Thomas Wilson. You murdered them.' Zed finished.
Thomas was struggling to comprehend anything. His memories were blurring. He was in space; in a cornfield; an inter-dimension passport inspector; himself?; a line with other people; on a ferris-wheel; finally a kind face was staring at him. It had to be his mother's.
'I—'
'Have committed a horrendous crime,' Zed cut in.'Yes, you have. If you tell us where the final victim is, if she's alive or dead, what her mental state is, well—'
'But I do n't know! I do n't remember anything. My, my memories have blended! I'm not me! I'm—'
*Jacob please calm down, we've been through so much. And it hurts me to hurt you so. *
Jacob looked down at the small robot that had spoken.
'Jacob, this is TR-84. It is a helper robot at this facility, mainly transport. Would you like to know what's on it's tray?' Zed said.
Thomas was feeling nauseous. He fell forward in his tub. His hands instinctively shot out and grasped the edge of the glass. They were covered in scars. Everywhere. Little white scars curled themselves around his knuckles, snuggled up with his palm creases, and swam amongst the webbing of his hands.
'Thirty-five.'
Thomas looked up at Zed.
He was holding a beaker.
'That's how many of those lines there are. You've been counting. There is n't a thirty-sixth, which is why we believe *she* may be alive. If you—'
'She? Look I've never hurt a woman before. I'm a soft—'
'Jacob? Thirty-four of your victims were woman. The only exception was your father. Now, tell me where Delia is, or I will be forced to make a move.' Zed said.
'Delia? Who's—'
'Delia? Jacob, Delia is your sister.'
'I have a—'
'Yes. Now, tell me, where is she? Think really hard for me Thomas. Think really fucking hard.'
'But, I do n't have—'
'Enough! Thomas, you have wasted my patience. Command? Restart the program for Jacob Wilson. Load up the memories of a one Wilma Wilson, the prisoner's mother.' Zed said.
Thomas felt his neck constrict and was yanked backwards.
'The assets we utilise at Simatech Industries is involved with their Mental Imaging program. But, we've added a tweak. You see, we make you live your relatives lifelong memories. With additions and tweaks of course, more painful, more suffering etcetera. But you've been extra tough. You've lived through, funnily enough, thirty-five of them. Each time you became more and more disorientated and confused. More scared. More like how your victims must have felt,' Zed walked over to TR-84, picking up another beaker.'This is Tri-atholax. It will heat up that water inside of your tank there. That tank that holds all the veins and arteries and muscles, of your lower body.
He emptied the beaker in.
'This, why this, is plain old salt. But once mixed with that water, it's rising temperature, and of course your bodily... extensions. We'll say. Should make things quite interesting—'
The glass container began to heat quite quickly, making Jacob very uncomfortable.
'Look, mister, uh, Zed! Please! Look, I'm trying I'm really trying. I just need more time. More—'
'Valeria Travers need more time! So did Zoe Pashendelf. And Mika Linwolfe. But you cut their cords early Jacob. All thirty-five of them. This,' he said holding up the salt.'Will just give you a nice send off into your sleep. It will make the first years of Wilma's, your, life quite oppressive and scary—'
'Look, I just—'
'Look indeed!'
With that Sargent Zed emptied the beaker of salt into Jacob's container. The salt spread quickly and began to burn his body. He screamed. He tried to lift himself from the glass, but could n't find a grip in his excruciating pain. He lay on the table with his burning veins draped into the glass container. His eyes began to roll into the back of his head as the pain became too much. His vision began to flicker.
A bright light was flashing up.
Finally, everything went black.
*System Restarted...
Memory loaded...
Wilma Wilson...
Death... by own son. *
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[ WP ] No matter the establishment , no matter the outfit , wherever he/she went everyone around would mistake him/her for an employee .
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It was a heated three way stand off, and I was stuck smack dab in the middle.
`` You were a cop all along Hank?!'' my name was Sam, but he was unmistakably pointing his gun at me. The three other gunmen were following his lead.
`` Rob? Rob, we went to the academy together. How could you do this?'' Sam. My name was Sam. I'd never seen this cop before either. Or the others. They were also pointing guns at me.
`` Fernando? You're a cop/crook?!'' asked the large woman standing behind the register. Somehow she managed to be more threatening with a pricing gun than the other two groups with their more conventional firearms.
All I wanted to do was buy some socks.
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[ WP ] Upon clicking the `` random '' button on the subreddit bar , you are brought to a subreddit centred around YOU ... .
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I leaned back in my desk chair, squinted at may laptop screen and clicked. I ’ d been clicking on the “ Random ” button for ten minutes with no interesting results. I didn ’ t care about funny cars or smart five year olds or sexy airplanes. All I cared about was finding something to occupy my time until the lecture finished.
/r/YouYesYou loaded onto my screen.
A quiet snort of surprise escaped through my nose. “ What the hell… ” I whispered. I clicked through page after page of posts containing pictures of myself. Some were of me sleeping. Others were of me watching television. One was of myself playing DS while taking a shit. After twenty pages I stopped.
The most recent post was a picture of me naked, spreading my butt cheeks, showing the camera my asshole with the caption, “ New User. Be Kind to [ M ] e. ”
I didn ’ t remember taking or having any of the pictures taken.
My phone buzzed, alerting me to a new text message. I gulped and ignored it, focusing on the subreddit. Millions of people subscribed with thousands of comments on each post. The only poster was/u/MeYOLONoScope.
My phone buzzed three more times. I pulled out my phone. All of the messages were from my roommate.
*What the fuck, man? *
*Did you drink all my beer last night? I told you to get your own. *
*And why the fuck did you use my camera? I don ’ t care what you do on your own time but don ’ t*
*use my shit for your perversions*
I groaned. My face turned red. I wanted to reply back to my roommate, but I knew if I said anything right now I ’ d probably just make things worse. I put my head in my hands trying to think. All of the posts in the subreddit were from me, about me.
I hated having to take fucking Ambien.
My professor continued to drone on and on. I wanted to leave, but I knew he ’ d make a scene, chew me out and attention was the last thing I wanted right now. What I wanted was for the subreddit to be taken down.
On the other hand, for some reason, I did have millions of fans. It wouldn ’ t be so bad to have fame and adoration showered upon me. I could set up a Patreon or something.
I smiled. Maybe taking Ambien wasn ’ t that bad.
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[ WP ] As a child , you thought that if you practiced enough , you would gain the superpower of your favorite fictional character . 10 years later , you attempt it again , out of nostalgia ... but this time , it works ! What do you do with it ?
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`` Fuck...'' sighed Phil as he looked at the gaping hole in his living room wall, from the vantage point of'down on his ass'. Once he stood up he could see clear through to the front yard and...
`` Oh... Christ, oh no...''
The... beam, as best Phil could describe it, had expanded after exiting the house and had completely torn the house across the street in two ( plus or minus a few thousand pieces ), but it had n't stopped there either. The smell of melted asphalt and smoke filled his nose.
`` Is this real life right now?'' Phil's horror was only matched by his... excitement. The house behind on the next street over was gone, just not there anymore. The field beyond that looked as though an EF-5 twister full of fire had blown across it in a straight line. The small forest beyond that was...
`` Oh my God, what... I mean... *shit... shit*'' Phil's heart was racing as he spun around in circles with his fingers pulling at his hair. The sound of firetrucks and police sirens wailed off in the distance.
`` I killed them... I... how did I... how could...''
Helicopters chuffed like birds in the background. Sirens grew closer. A few muffled screams could be heard.
But the sound that caught Phil's attention the most was his small, still functional television behind him. The show Phil had been watching had kept playing the whole time...
Faintly, over the din of the cacophony that was quickly forming around his neighborhood Phil heard it again...
`` *KA... ME... HA... ME... HAAAAAA! *''
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[ WP ] One day everyone on earth wakes up with a functional light saber next to them .
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I awake and roll over only to be greeted by my reflection in the cold steel hilt. Abruptly I sit up and glance around the room. *Who put this here? * I wonder as it is n't the one I purchased online; no, this one seems different. I gently reach out and take hold of my new possession. Slowly I turn the object around in my hands, inspecting every beautifully crafted detail and wondering why the maker went so far as to include a `` keep this end away from face'' sticker.
Hopping out of bed I pressed the button and my ceiling fan immediately came crashing down in two separate pieces with smoke swirling off the charred black areas that used to be full fan blades.
Listening to the low hum brought goosebumps and a few tears as well. Today would be the day I fulfilled my destiny, today would be the day I fulfilled my username!
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[ WP ] In the future , teleporters are used every day by everyone . The problem is , the machines do n't actually teleport you - they just kill you and make a copy on the other end , and the afterlife is getting crowded .
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Raphael was working much more these days. Being the angel of knowledge, he was tasked with figuring out the latest overpopulation issue.
`` Hey, Raphael. How goes the science?''
Raphael gazed up from his equipment and met eyes with the humble carpenter. `` Oh, hey Jesus. Man, these humans really developed something amazing this time. They were able to completely bypass the wall we had put in place from entering the different flows of time and space, with simple radio waves! I would have never dreamed they would come up with this.''
Jesus frowned. `` Yes, they are masters of bending the rules and creative solutions. It makes me smile at the fact they were created in the Father's image... but this is getting out of hand. I told them I would go ahead and prepare them a room, but it was one room per individual. I mean, look at the line in front of the gate.''
Jesus pointed at the line that was now reaching the horizon of the heavenly plane. `` You see that guy right there? The one in the brown sweatshirt and with the buzzcut? That guy's name is James. He is a faithful follower who had deserved many crowns in his room. The problem is that is copy 3,849 of James. Do you know how many copies of James I can shove into the room I prepared for him?''
Raphael shook his head. `` Jesus, I may be the archangel of knowledge, but that does n't mean I know the volume of the rooms you give to the believers.''
`` Just over a hundred Raphael! **ONE HUNDRED!! ** The doors are literally coming off their hinges they are so full! The rooms are very spacious for one person, but not 3,849! We need a solution to our problem right now!''
Raphael smiled. `` Well Jesus, I have good news. I just finished installing a transporter of our own.''
Jesus took a look at the box Raphael had just unveiled. `` This is what the humans are using?''
`` An exact replica. The original scientist and a couple of his copies helped me build it.''
Jesus rubbed his hands against the polished metal of the device. `` Where does it transport them to?''
`` To the incinerator...''
`` You mean the lake of fire! That is only for the damned to go, not the believers!''
Raphael shrugged. `` I thought about that too, but if we keep the original, and send all the copies, it should n't be an issue, right?''
Jesus stroked his beard in thought. `` This is true... Maybe this will work after all. I just have one question for you Raphael.''
`` What's that Jesus?''
Jesus pointed back at James who was now about to come through the gates. `` We have thousands of copies of people just like that... we lost track of the originals quite a while back. How do we sort that mess when we ca n't tell the difference between the copy and the original?''
`` Way ahead of you Jesus. I had some architects build an arena, complete with concession stands. We will have all the copies fight to the death. The winner will obviously be original, who should be superior in every way.''
Jesus smiled. `` Brilliant, just brilliant. This should help our economy with all the ticket and concession sales too. Great job Raphael, let's continue with that plan, we should probably build more transporters too.''
`` Does this mean I should be getting a raise, Jesus?''
`` We'll talk about it the next staff meeting.''
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[ WP ] Scientists have managed to create the world 's first time machine , however , it can only send messages to itself in the past . Within seconds of turning the machine on for the first time , messages of warning begin to flood in from the future .
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A room full of scientists gathered around a small, shiny device that resembled a printer, but with mini LCD screen propped over it. Dr. Frederick pushed a button on its side and the machine whirred to life. Everyone jumped back as it beeped repetitively.
More noises cut into the quiet room as some text appeared on the screen, prompting a quick cheer, followed by several pleas to read what was written.
> Turn off the machine now! The world can not recover from the events it brings into action.
`` Is that...'' Dr. Frederick began after reading the message out loud. `` Is this a warning from the future?''
Shouting filled the room as the scientists argued.
`` We have to shut it off!'' one yelled. `` Someone in the future is telling us this was a bad idea.''
`` How can we shut it off?'' another answered. `` This is the biggest advancement in the human race! We ca n't just throw it out!''
The same argument replayed throughout the room, albeit with different words, some more vulgar than the last.
Suddenly the machine whirred to life again and the room became quiet. Everyone stared at Dr. Frederick in anticipation of the second message.
> The previous message was delivered from the future by members of the Time Institute.
> Timestamp: 2016-04-01 11:30.125 GMT-0500.
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[ WP ] Technology allows us to uplift dogs to human intelligence level . They are as amazing as expected . The dogs , however , are shocked to see how evil humans are .
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Susie stood in her kitchen and looked at Tom Hanks. The dog licked his lips and fixed his wet bulbous eyes on the dish of food in her hand. His tail quivered in anticipation. With a squeak Susie put the bowl on the floor and backed away. The package promised that the nanobots would begin to work immediately and that she would be talking to her dog within moments. She held her fingers to her mouth while Tom gulped down the food and its hidden package.
What would it be like to talk to her dog? Tom Hanks had been her best friend for over seven years. Her constant companion through all the loneliness and romantic misadventures. She loved the little creature more then anything in the world. Now she would finally be able to know what he was thinking.
Tom interrupted her thoughts with a violent hacking cough. He backed up across the room until his butt bumped into the wall. He sat down and shook his head. When he looked up at Susie his eyes were different. A metallic sheen filled them and they burst with confusion.
The dog coughed again and worked his jaw back and forth. He made a series of strange noises in the back of his throat.
“ Susie? ” he finally said with a raspy electronic voice.
“ Tom! Yes, it ’ s me! Oh Tom, I love you so much. ”
“ I love you too Susie. As much as I have ever loved anything. ”
Silent tears began to fall down Susie ’ s face. Tom loved her. Oh course he did, but to hear it out loud was pure bliss.
“ Susie? ”
“ Yes Tom. I ’ m here. ”
“ What did you do to me? ”
“ I gave you a pill to make you smart. ”
The dog sat quietly and seemed to digest this information. After a few moments and another jaw wiggle. “ I have a question. ”
“ Of course Tom, ask me anything. ”
“ Where do you go every day Susie? This has been the ultimate mystery of my life. ”
“ I go to my job. I ’ m a secretary at a pharmaceutical company. I have to go there right now actually or I ’ m going to be late. ”
Tom Hanks metallic eyes pulsed brighter for a moment.
“ So you don ’ t save puppies and run through the forest all day? ”
Susie laughed, “ goodness no. I haven ’ t run in twenty years. I sit behind a desk. ”
“ And I stay here while you sit at your… job? ”
“ Yes ”
“ Oh. ”
“ I have to run now Tom. We can talk more tonight. Would you like the TV on your usual channel? ”
“ What ’ s that? Oh, yes please. ”
Susie turned on the news and moved to the front door.
“ I love you Tom, ” she said as she hovered in the entrance.
“ I love you too Susie. ”
Susie closed the door and left. Tom watched the door for a moment and then jumped on the couch. He sat and watched the news for a while. It was a typical day.
Tom made his way to the bathroom and nudged the toilet seat open with his nose. He sat and stared at the water for moment before letting out a deep sigh and plunging his head under the water. Long seconds ticked by before he began to shake and quiver. Finally, he was still.
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[ WP ] Elon Musk is actually a stranded alien who needs humanity to develop interstellar travel to get home
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I started suspecting something was off after the third session I had with Elon. Damn, it was getting ridiculous. He tried to cover it all up by making a huge show of his engineering prowess. You had PR people going `` Oh he is really fond of the science that's why he likes to discuss latest problems with the engineers. Oh he's so well rounded he can talk about science for ages.'' Yeah yeah I got all that but how can you explain the fact that I struggle with a difficult problem for weeks and yet I have one session with him and bam it's solved. Just like that!
Initially, I used to think it was just genuine eureka moments. But after Dave solved an issue he had struggled with for a fortnight following one visit with Elon. I began to really smell a fish.
So I decided to set him up. I met with six different members on varying teams having technical blockers and I took a cursory walk through their problems to have a fair understanding of the technical difficulty and for fun I also struggled with the problem of making a billion dollars from a business idea then I paid Elon a visit.
Sure enough like it always does while having conversations with him he seemed to say things that were analogous to inspired solutions for the problems. One by one from our conversations of things entirely orthogonal to the specific aerospace problems I had earmarked, I was inspired with solutions for each problem. It was a rush. In my mind I screamed `` I fucking knew it motherfucker!'' But I was immediately overcome by fear. What is this man? How can he do this? Does he know he can do this? Can he send me thoughts? can he hear mine? Fuck! is he listening right now? Just then, like the rest of the problems, I figured out how to make a billion dollars. My face lit up. I almost screamed out loud wow!
So I brought the conversation to a controlled stop and started heading for the door. Fighting off thoughts of what to name my yacht. That's when it happened. In a flash Elon was at the door. It was like he appeared right there. What the...
He grabbed me by the jugular. `` Did the Xaqqokians send you? What's the bounty? `` he scanned his window. `` Are you here alone? Where's your desgutor?''
I was turning blue from lack of oxygen when he let go. The violence on his face melted away slowly.
Cough cough `` what are you talking about sir? I do n't know what'' cough `` a desgutor is.''
Somehow he seemed to have figured out his mistake. At least his expressions betrayed that much.
`` I do n't believe it. You're a man'' Elon muttered. `` How did you know I was from the Pleiades? ``
`` The what? `` I inquired. `` Are you taking about the star system? ``
`` Oh my. You really do n't know what's going on. You actually just figured you are better at solving problems in my glorious presence and exploited that. Interesting. Here I was thinking you were a shapeshifting bounty hunter'' Elon said.
`` I guess I can take my actual form'' with that he morphed into something else and I began to sob. It was weird.
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[ WP ] You live in a post Robotic Revolution Society . Robots have replaced every physical/mental labor job imaginable . You ether are an innovator , or you are a no one .
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The sigh was utterly cliche -
`` I've seen it before, Irving.'' the savant breathed out the phrase in the same breath as she exhaled a band of purple smoke. She pursed her lips - a darker shade of purple which pursed with the smoke, then settled into a comfortable pout, `` everyone has.''
An air scrubber drifted lazily from the ceiling and pushed the lavender haze around the room to a small, grilled vent in crook of the roof and ceiling. The vent was centered in the room, directly behind the circle of sunshine-yellow illumination where stood in a contorted hump, one Irving Leforge. The man looked as if he'd never slept a day in his life; and while his hair was perfectly trimmed ( although any self-respecting BarberDrone should have shelved that style years ago ) and his clothes were immaculately pressed ( albeit a tad bit more worn than the usual ), he exuded an air of exhaustion and general untidiness. Even now, in the light so very few had ever managed to progress to- he seemed unimpressive.
Eureka uncoiled herself from the judgement seat. She stood on the precipice of fashion, sported hair colors and clothes that would n't be out of beta for seasons, if not an entire lunar year- she was the definition of cutting-edge - her outfit, a ceaselessly shifting violet-black-blue shadesuit with pronounced shoulders and a tendency to flatten itself tightly against her body after every movement; she was a goddess among a race of readily perfected beings, and she alone sat on the televised Throne of Art. She alone held the authority to proclaim that an idea was `` New''.
Irving was positively drab, even in the flattering spotlight. He clutched a crumpled parchment in his hand, as if it were his bank account incarnate. Paper was, and had been for decades, a child's toy, a novelty - favored by out-of-sorts grandparents and the eccentric nostalgialites who prefered the suburbs to clean city living.
Irving was n't even the first to attempt this particular trick - bringing historical art and claiming to `` reinvigorate'' or `` revive'' or `` re-somethingelse'' one artifact or another from those dark ages; even today, musicians tried it on a daily basis. The Council that Eureka had replaced was infamous for engaging in a multi-year trial against a group of dancers who had claimed to invent a new form of movement and expression that was ( to the educated ) quite directly plagiarized choreography sloppily scrapbooked from the music videos of Michael Jackson.
While the details of the case were long gone, the dancers must have had one hell of a lawyer - to Eureka the case was totally clear.
Nothing was new. Humans had reached the end of their artistic and spiritual endeavors. Endless remakes, mash-ups, and alternate-timeline stories had proved, since the mid 23rd century, that imagination was a wellspring which, like most of the Earth's mineral resources, had been strip mined.
Still, there were those who would try, and Eureka would cross-reference them all; would prove to them that every idea, every note, every script, every poem and every brush stroke had already been performed, and exponentially more skillfully performed, by a master whose work was readily available for purchase and instantaneous enjoyment.
Still, Irving stood in the light, and while his posture was that of a defeated man, his eyes shone as if he knew something that Eureka did not.
Preposterous.
`` Your rhyme scheme is a Shakespearean sonnet.'' she stated flatly. She took a long drag from the e-cigarette and tingled as the micro-scrubbers in her lung purged the impurities ( a tickling, electric sensation that had been one of the last novel concepts to have been published in modern memory ).
`` Aye.'' Irving said, never taking his eyes off Eureka's steeled gaze.
`` You chose to compose in English - composed of approximately 10,762 possible rhyme groups. Even with slant rhyming and assonance, you're still setting before me a poem with a definitive set of possible rhymes. Since you are bound by the poem's format, that gives me a readily calculable formula to solve the poem before I'm even done reading it.''
`` Then read it.'' Irving said, straightening slightly.
`` Mr. Leforge, I have read every Shakespearean sonnet ever published. I have read every poem ever published by the form's inventor, himself. I've also studied every emulator- every copycat, every rival, every peer- I've read textbooks on the matter, taken decades' worth of courses on the structure and analysis thereof; I have verse in my head that never got past a teenager's hormone-ridden angst in the primordial days of the worldnet. I've read rhymes with slang that has already been forgotten- I've read collegiate assignments and greeting-card drivel - I know every lyric to every song ever written, and I can calculate every possible iambic couplet conceivable in seventy-five different languages, although those living the world now speak only three.''
`` Then read it.'' Irving whispered - making up in conviction what he lacked in volume.
`` You think you can be better than he is? You fancy yourself a better wordsmith than he? Do you think yourself the better of a man who has not been forgotten, even as we approach a millennia since his death- a man studied and revered by all of humankind for generations- you think your ideas, emotions, and passions can hold a candle to what he has already done?''
`` I think...'' Irving's voice faltered slightly, his grey eyes clouded -
`` I think we are peers.''
Eureka laughed. Her laugh was a strange sound, heard by so very few - the live editing computers would n't let it filter into the neuro-feeds of her devoted followers, streaming in from all over the globe.
`` Equals? You consider yourself an equal?''
`` Not equals, really... Peers. Fellow travellers, on the same journey, and in the same situation- born to a spinning rock without knowing why -''
`` I know Absurdism, too, you know- `` She cut him off curtly. `` Spare me the existentialism.''
`` Well, I just figure, every day of my life - that if someone else could do something great, then why not me, eh?'' Irving shifted as he spoke. The sudden humility was quite opposite the usual haughtiness of a self-espoused innovator, trying to garner Eureka's favor. Now, instead of a slovenly ignoramus or a self-important academic, there was a man. A humble, human man with a poem in his hand.
Of course, it had to have happened before - but it had been so long since... Eurka stopped that line of thought, uncertain of where it would lead her. Instead, she stomped a foot in a fantastically technic high-heel and stated: `` That philosophy does not make you original, Irving Leforge.''
`` Well, I suppose I'm in good company then.''
He unfurled his parchment - it was a single, white page. Nothing unique or ornate about it.
He cleared his throat.
He gripped it with two hands - one above the page, one below, and began to read the words that he had written himself.
For a moment, Eureka forgot to analyse every possible combination of words - she forgot to predict what he was going to say next, and she did not cross-reference every phrase to eliminate his submission due to inadvertent plagiarism. Instead, she listened to his poem- and for the first in a long time, she heard a sincere message, somewhere between the lines.
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[ WP ] One day you stick the tip of your pinky finger into a USB port on the front of your PC . You look up at the monitor to be surprised to see a new device has been identified , and that your PC is downloading drivers for it .
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I feel an intense pain rip through my cranium, but it only lasts about 10 seconds. In fact, it goes away at the exact moment the computer `` dings'' to let me know the drivers installed correctly. `` Select what to do with this device''. I stare at it for a second. A million thoughts race through my mind. I frantically check around my PC searching for any sort of phenomenon that had plugged itself in that would make any more sense than this. In my desperation for reality my pinky becomes `` unplugged''. Accordingly, the computer makes a noise. Again I am staring at the monitor still in disbelief. Fueled by a concoction of curiosity and fear I slowly inch my pinky back towards the port. In the sea that is currently my brain a couple of thoughts grab the forefront of my attention:
`` There's no way in hell this could happen again''
`` What if it does work?''
`` Even if it did work it would probably be empty'' self-deprecating humor, I chuckle aloud.
`` I bet Jess ( my sister ) is fucking with me. There's probably a camera in the room.''
I pause in my pinky's seemingly endless trip to the opening, quickly check my surroundings for anything suspicious, nothing. I turn back to the screen and take a deep breath. `` Here goes something''. My pinky unites with the drive.
The same head trauma I felt before happens again, but this time for only half a second. `` Select what to do with this device''. The fear was gone by this point and now my curiosity was letting my imagination soar. I click to view the files in Windows Explorer. It's unlike anything I imagined. To start it tells me the device has 96.4 terabytes of data. It's very slowly increasing by about 1 megabyte per second. The storage in use is at about 91 % of the total, and is also increasing at the same rate. I attribute it to being an entirely new learning experience to me. *Double click* Just inside there is only a couple of folders. I start with the one that has been on my mind since the first sliver of faith that this could be real: Memory. Inside this folder is intense. There are 24 folders, one for each year I have been alive. I start at the top, `` 1992''. Inside this folder there is months, `` January'' I click, and then days,'' 31'': My birth day. There is a very large video titled `` Zero Hour''. I wonder if my interest in the military formatted that name. I double click it. `` File could not be played; Corrupt file''. I could have guessed that. I back out to the years folder and select a new one.
At this point my curiosity has thoroughly seized me. I start rummaging through files of my youth. Looking for memories that my mind has buried in emotional scarring. I am thrilled at the idea of being able to witness my childhood demons as an adult in hopes of vanquishing them. Suddenly, the front door of the house opens a few feet to my left. I leap a foot out of the chair, I had lost track of my surroundings. My sister's voice: `` Gosh people are so damn FRUSTRATING!'' as she stomps through the door. In my panic I pulled my pinky out of the port. She starts some rant about her day at work but none of it registers to me. The real world is slowly becoming tangible again. I have an idea, `` Hey Jess, come here real quick''. `` Sure, what's up?'' her day at work's problems were magically irrelevant in that instant. `` This is gon na sound weird, but try to put your pinky in the USB port.'' Her eyes narrow, `` Really?'' she scolds, but before she can turn around I grab her by the wrist. `` Please.'' I look dead serious. Still justifiably confused Jess complies. She reaches around the computer chair I am in and puts her pinky up to the slot. Nothing. `` Happy now?'' she pulls away from the PC but in this motion she knocks over my afternoon Monster can and it spills all over the system. The computer turns off. `` Fuck!'' we both yell simultaneously reaching for the can. I savor what has n't left the aluminum yet and try to turn on the computer. Not even a flicker. `` I swear Pat sometimes you....'' she trails off towards the kitchen to grab paper towels. I am stuck there, head in my hands, stunned at the opportunities that had vanished right in front of me.
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[ TT ] The fountain of youth is hidden in a modern city
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My vision pans from left to right, right to left. All that I can seen is the lock, the lock that traps and holds the desire so many pine after -- the eternal fountain of youth. Two doors snapped shut at the cue of an exiting person walking towards their car. There were many other things in my path, it had been a game of chance, if you will, but all that is now left in sight is the door. A literal lock at times, figurative to most. Nothing else matters.
What would this fountain look like? So many stories of old described the peril of the few that have actually reached beyond the door, only to return unchanged. What was a life of true eternal youth? Millions had made it the point that I had; why were only a select few granted the `` gift''? Society was led to believe that those chosen few were the stopping point, the end all of the hopes of eternal youth for a modern society. Too many people had dedicated their lives only to lead themselves to the distinct misery that comes with dedication to a lost cause.
Quitting my job, losing my career and family, spending my life savings; I was prepared to take the last leap of faith that so many had before me. What choice did I have? What was left of the wreckage in my faith of having the ability to covet my youth? Traveling the country -- I stopped at nothing.
Opening the door to yet another Walmart, I was greeted warmly by an elderly gentleman. Seeing a look of distinct determination he had only seen a handful of times before, he shook my hand and quietly whispered, `` only the Waltons could afford something so incredulous''. I realized my life had truly been spent in vain, both in coin and time. Finding `` the one'' Walmart had taken years of my life and almost every penny I had. Finding that only the Waltons would survive long after the grave beckoned, I lamented. If only I had ever actually spoken to a single greeter at Walmart.
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[ WP ] Billy had to sit in the corner for 5 minutes . Now he has to adjust to life on the outside .
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`` What you here for?'' Billy asked the new guy.
`` Spilled my milk.''
`` How long?''
`` I got 10, why are you here?''
`` I threw my toy, only got 5, and my times almost up, goodbye.'' Billy left as the warden finally was setting billy free from the corner. Billy had 5 long minutes, that's enough to mess with a kid, he missed a lot of spongebob, would be had to understand the plot now, but he has a pal that will give him the highlights for the right price.
The dog came running to him, `` have n't seen you in a long time buddy, too long,'' he said while petting the dog. The dog was n't here when billy went, he was outside, billy wished he could go outside, but the warded said if he even tried he'll get another 10, billy could n't handle another 10 so it was n't worth it.
Billy will be peaceful, at least until the warden gets off his case.
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[ WP ] A dragon sits atop a mountain overlooking a medieval village . It has never moved , and people assume it is made of stone . Then it begins to move .
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The Richter scale measured the quake at 2.3 at 5 33 am. Most people slept through it. The little sleepy town of Yorickville was shaken but there was no serious damage. There was also this lingering smell of sulfur that Jane Wienerhauser tried to ignore. Her German shepherd, Russel refused to crawl out from under the bed. No amount of coaxing çould get her out he just quietly whimpering away.
It was nearly 6 30 and Jane had to finish her jog by 7 30. So she about leave without Russel. As soon as she opened the front door Russel shot out of the house like a cannon ball. `` That dog acts like a cat'' she muttered to herself and took off behind the dog. The dog must have gone up Lizard Hill she thought and jogged after it hoping to stumble across the walking bumbling snuggle fest the rest of the world referred to as Jane's dog.
The wind was cold but strangely the hill felt warm. She thought she was delusional when she almost felt the ground warm and dismissed the thought immediately. She slowly reached the top where the statue of the Lizard marked the top to find only dirt where the sleeping Lizard's statue should have been.
There was a sink hole! She took out her phone to call the emergency services, she was just telling the disgruntled phone operator she suddenly heard wings flapping and a shadow growing around her.
Russel is waiting to be adopted now...
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[ WP ] Waking from cryostasis is now possible . The government develops an experiment where somebody is to be placed into a large chamber in the middle of the city and awoken every 50 years for just one week . Your name is chosen .
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We're not sure about the date ( we're estimating 10025/7/1 by this logbook, not sure which system, but the timer on the capsule says a few days left ), and apparently we're in what used to be called Massachusetts. We've found, some time ago, the remnants of a very solid building, along with a logbook that's been handwritten for some time now. Here's what's in there, it's up to you to piece it together. Personally, we think
-2020/1/1: The docs thought it would be funny to freeze me on a new year. I have to say, I sort of agree with them. Here I go!
-2070/1/12: Heh, turns out they planned to do it by the day instead of by the year, so apparently it's the twelfth now. Things are n't much different, and I was given a day to wander outside. Nothing much has changed - though I love the cars' design.
-2120/1/25: Here comes the first century. Cityline still has n't changed much. Neither have the cars, really - I think the only difference is the use of microfusion lightbulbs today. Oh yeah - though I forgot to mention, by now they found out about reliable fusion. Huzzah for power! ( They decided that it was wise to build and fortify one under my cell as backup power - they wired it today )
-2170/2/6: Hah, we got men on Mars! Nothing really new either - same old city, same old cars. Though the delivery drones finally have been approved as long as there's a `` mothership'' truck to carry them and they're not free-roaming.
Entries 2220/2/19 to 3470 have been omitted to save space as nothing relevant happened.
-3521/1/15: Ten years ago, the UN started it's political parties in all democratic countries, apparently. And today they garnered enough votes everywhere to be considered leading global government. Huzzah?
-3571/1/22: Today was... strange. Everybody seemed so... distant, automated. The world leaders came to see me again, a relic from so far in the past. Though I also noticed that, sadly, a nearby building finally succumbed to time despite maintenance a few years back, now a tall, white and smooth tower in it's place. Apparently I missed by two hundred years the fact that buildings no longer had real windows for structural strength.
Entries 3621/2/4 to 7523/10/7 were absent from records, causes unknown.
-7573/10/19: So it's happened in the end... There's no one to welcome me. They did themselves in. I had my suspicions when I saw that the UN took over like any megalomaniac governance usually does in books, but then when they offset pretty much all of living - the mobility, the reproduction - to machines, it had to happen. It took me a while to open the doors - they really fortified everything when they saw I knew - but I got out. Looked out the window - this building was pretty much the last one with actual glass windows left - and I think I saw some people down there. But by now I have no idea what sort of viruses they have - and hell, they might even carry some ultra-adapted viruses, so I'm just going to return to cryosleep for now.
-7623/11/1: What... What happened? When I woke up, the doors were busted, and outside all there could be seen was rubble and ashes... I do n't know what to do anymore. It's been a few months for me... I do n't know how long the power plant's going to last, or how far I could go in the future before dying... Then again, what's the worst way to die - possibly starving, dehydrated or killed by something out in this wasteland, or asleep and frozen? I'm going back in.
There was a skip in time. Entries between the previous and the following were simply never written.
-10025/6/24: I only just realized; who am I doing this for? For all I know, I'm the last human on this planet. There's no one to note down results, analyse data. No one to use this technology anymore. My only friend is this ancient, by now, power source that kept me alive. I think I will sleep for a last fifty years before going down to rest forever by my old companion. If I remember, I just have to remove a single panel and it's warm glow will know to put me to sleep fast... Death by sleep is comfortable, but this will be even more comfortable, with how quick it will be...
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[ WP ] Write about Tim , he 's an average guy with a comfortable life , in which nothing unexpected happens . The reason for that is he 's important to the timelines of 6 realities and is watched like a hawk by the Time Police .
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`` Well you two idiots just made that man the most important person ever. I mean, EVER. What the hell were you two thinking?'' The chief say behind his desk drinking his usual brew, doing his best not to smash his mug on his desk. The two rookies looked dumbfounded, completely unaware of what they did.
`` Chief,'' officer Mal started, `` what exactly did we do?'' Mal sat with his arms crossed, defiantly rejecting the notion that he had accidentally affected the timeline.
`` You dipshits both interacted with that guy Tim at the same time!''
`` Sir,'' officer Zephyr spoke up, `` does n't that sort of thing happen all the time?''
`` Yes, but when officers are working a joint case. You fuckups were working separate cases that happened to coincide with Tim's trip to that little store at the corner of his street. You both asked him for directions exactly three minutes and forty seven seconds apart. Your timelines are no longer independent of each other. Now if Tim dies, you guys get erased and anyone working on any thing near any of the cases you currently have open will experience the same thing.''
`` I'm still not following,'' said Mal.
`` Let me explain this as simple as I can. You two are officers of the Time Precinct because your historical foot print is ver small. When you were trying to apprehend your suspect, you both temporarily relied on a civilian for directions. You made that slob important. Three minutes and forty seven seconds later, officer Zephyr did the same thing, linking your time lines together. He was influenced by his first encounter making the second encounter dependent on the first. But you two idiots were working in the same time stream, so now the past and future were compressed in that instant, making a giant fucking bubble in the time line. This is hands down the biggest fuckup I have ever seen in all my years working for the Time Precinct.''
Both rookies sat with their hands in their laps, eyes pointed to the floor tiles. It was quite for a moment before Zephyr spoke again.
`` What now chief?''
`` Well, any time period during his life is now a dead zone.'' Chief Ajax opened the file on his desk and continued speaking, `` December 13, 1993 at 10:03 pm to September 4, 2067 at 3:49 am is now a prohibited time zone.''
`` What does that mean?'' asked Zephyr.
`` It means any tragedy or catastrophe occurring in that time frame can not be altered in the slightest.''
`` What if one of those tragedies kills Tim?'' The rookies asked in unison.
`` Well I guess we'd be fucked then, would n't we?''
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[ WP ] Without saying the word love , you write the most passionate love letter you can imagine .
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To the unfortunate soul I have had the delight to know,
Hello. You sneak into my every thought. You're like the wind blowing through the trees - only, it's thoughts of you are passing through my synapses and not so cliche. Saying that, you make me cliche. You consist of cliche metaphors in my mind, but only because my feelings for you are the most cliche of all. What am I saying? You make me at a loss for words. You get me. You take my breath away. Does this make you want to vomit? If I said I want to scream your name from the mountain tops would you chunder all these regurgitated expressions back into my face?
You left your jumper on my pillow, with a note that said `` I know you miss me when I'm not next to you''. You are very astute, sir. But there's more to it than that. I do n't just'miss' you. Miss suggests a fleeting longing ( That's a bit oxymoronic, is n't it? ). No, I do n't just'miss' you being next to me. You're my vice, it's not that I miss you, I suffer from withdrawal when you are not here. What am I trying to say? It's cliche but you're a drug. A good kind. You do n't bruise me with track marks, you do n't defile my veins, no you lift me up and keep me there. The only come down I get from you is when you leave.
And all the things you do for me. All the times you sit there listening to me, so I can get all these thoughts out of my mind and you kiss my forehead and then I listen to you, and I hang onto your every word because you fascinate me beyond belief. You're fascinating, breathtaking, wonderful, beautiful. Your smile wakes me up in the morning when I'm sitting at the table, with a long forgotten coffee in my hand, hating the world for existing at this hour.
I guess what I am saying is this; do n't change ( but grow! ), do n't leave ( but explore! ) and most importantly, keep smiling ( but with me! ).
Yours forever and always,
Chloe
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[ WP ] You are a secret agent assigned to interrogate a prisoner , but you committed the crime the prisoner is accused of , and you both know it .
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**NOVEMBER 24, 2014**
“ So, you think it ’ s fun to type away all day, hiding behind the mask of a computer screen and pretending you ’ re invincible? ”
I paced around the bright chrome table, drumming my fingers on its surface every few moments. When you ’ re playing a game of cat and mouse, you need all the dramatic flourishes you can get. One wrong move, and your cover is blown.
He glared at me, sly and calculating. “ Look, Anderson. You and I both know that those codes were far out of my reach. I ’ m just a low-level programmer. ”
I shook my head. “ Don ’ t lie to me, Rich. You can dance around this all you want, but I ’ m not leaving here until you admit what you ’ ve done. ”
**ONE MONTH EARLIER**
I ’ m the type of guy who can perform well under pressure. That ’ s why they hired me: to make sure all information systems run smoothly even under the stress of emails, streaming, Skype calls, you name it. Of course, this line of work is part-time, secondary to my efforts over at the police station. But both are necessary for what I plan to accomplish. I keep to myself and don ’ t ask for much attention, spending more time in the shadows of processing rooms than the fluorescent lights of cubicles.
I ’ m also a fast learner. Where I come from, technology is harder to come by and far less effective. That ’ s why I spent months figuring out the ins and outs of the company ’ s systems. I wanted to make people proud, to be the exception to the norm. All for a purpose.
“ Hey, Rich. Psst. Get over here; I need to talk to you. ” The moment I started talking to him, he tried to scurry away, like a terrified rat in a maze of mousetraps. Typical.
“ Anderson, leave me alone. If you ’ re just going to pollute my mind with more empty threats, you can turn around and fuck off. ”
I chuckled. “ Feisty today, aren ’ t we? ” I waited until we turned a corner and grabbed him by the shirt collar, slamming him against the nearest wall. “ You listen here, you son of a bitch. I didn ’ t come thousands of miles for you to bail on me. I can make your life far worse than prison will ever be. In fact, prison will be a blessing. ”
“ What you ’ re planning to do is ludicrous. There ’ s no way you ’ ll pull it off, so I ’ m honestly not worried about the blame you intend to thrust my way. Both of our lives will be fine. Now let go of me. ”
I smiled and loosened my grip on his collar, allowing him to sink down to the floor. As he turned to head back to his cubicle, I continued to grin.
“ Just you wait, ” I said.
**NOVEMBER 24, 2014**
Rich certainly didn ’ t expect to see me in the interrogation room. After all, I had never told anyone that I worked two jobs. But to my surprise, he seemed willing to play it by ear. I guess when you ’ re about to face upwards of twenty years in prison, you ’ re ready to take some chances.
“ There ’ s no turning back, Rich, ” I said.
“ You ’ re a cold-hearted bastard, Anderson. The whole world ’ s going to know you did this. ”
“ Don ’ t be ridiculous, ” I said, turning towards the room ’ s camera. “ No one ’ s going to believe you. The evidence is all there and it points to you. Confessing now will make this easier for both of us. ”
Tears began to well up in Rich ’ s eyes. “ You set me up, ” he said. “ You knew I could get those codes. All those leaks…it was all you. I had nothing to do with that and you know it. ”
I stopped pacing around the room and slammed the palms of my hands on the table, looking directly into his eyes. “ It ’ s your choice, Rich. Prison or me making your life a living hell. ”
He kept his eyes locked on me. “ All right, Anderson. ” Still no movement. “ It was all me. ”
I clapped once. “ Just what I wanted to hear. ” With that, I turned around and left the room.
Later that day, I sent out the next series of emails. Derogatory remarks towards employees, inflammatory emails between executives. It was deliciously controversial.
They were paying for their disrespect towards the Dear Leader. It was a gold mine, and I was feeding it to the world in courses. I had Sony Pictures in the palm of my hand, and I would be making my country quite proud indeed.
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[ WP ] In order to prevent man from chopping them down , trees evolve a rather unusual feature - WiFi . However , the network they are connected to is not the Internet as we know it .
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Leonard got comfortable by the great oak and opened up his laptop. Rachel had told him that bigger trees gave a stronger signal and were better for browsing. Leonard did n't really get the point of all this - if he wanted the internet, he could do it at home. Oh well, Rachel had been adamant about him trying this and he did n't know his sister to be wrong about much.
Even so, it felt wrong. There was something mystical about being in the middle of a forest like this; why look at a screen when you can observe nature all around you? Leonard was no environmentalist, but he was n't an internet addict either. He resolved to see what this `` Treenternet'' was all about, then take some time to appreciate his surroundings.
He opened up Spartan Browser - the only one anyone used these days - and it went straight to reddit. it knew him so well. Strangely, though, it opened to /r/earthporn. Strange - that must have been what he looked at last. He tried to check all his favorite subs; askreddit, aww, yiff. He was dismayed to find they all redirected to earthporn. He was n't too surprised though. Probably reddit's servers has screwed something up. He decided to check another website instead.
The first thing on his bookmarks list was Amazon. He clicked the link, but was surprised to see the front page covered in pictures of the rain forest and river of the same name. Maybe it was some environmental holiday he had forgotten about? He decided to check youtube.
There was a single video displayed on the front page, titled `` twenty amazing reasons reasons trees are actual destroying humanity ( number fourteen will shock you! )''
I clicked on the video, not sure what to expect. It buffered for a second, then grim music started playing. What followed was astounding. Clips of ent-like tree warriors brutally murdering humans, swinging axes at them. The fourteenth clip showed a house build from dead human beings. The clip ended with a black screen and the words `` 2025 - this means war.''
The trees were planning to take their revenge on humanity.
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[ WP ] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence .
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In Cognitive Science and related studies this exact idea is used to illustrate how important context is in understanding things.
This is not my story but it fits the prompt and it's from a real research study:
> The procedure is actually quite simple. First you arrange items into different groups. Of course, one pile may be sufficient depending on how much there is to do. If you have to go somewhere else due to lack of facilities, that is the next step; otherwise, you are pretty well set. It is important not to overdo things. That is, it is better to do too few things at once than too many. In the short run this may not seem important but complications can easily arise. A mistake can be expensive as well. At first, the whole procedure will seem complicated. Soon, however, it will become just another facet of life. It is difficult to foresee any end to the necessity for this task in the immediate future, but then, one never can tell. After the procedure is completed one arranges the materials into different groups again. Then they can be put into their appropriate places. Eventually they will be used once more and the whole cycle will then have to be repeated. However, this is part of life.
It's revealed that the story is about [ the thing it's about ] ( /s `` washing clothes'' ) later in the textbook.
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[ WP ] You live in a society where justice is truly blind . The judge and jurors are not allowed to know the name , gender , race , religion , or appearance of the defendant .
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Twelve angry people sit in a room.
`` The knife is n't that rare.'' Says Juror 8.
`` I do n't think that witness could see the scene clearly.'' Says Juror 4.
`` That public defender did n't really care.'' Says Juror 8.
`` No, he did n't.'' Says Juror 4.
`` Let's vote. Just to see where we stand.'' Says Juror 1. Everyone murmurs agreement.
The foreman counts the votes. `` Eleven not guilty. One guilty.''
`` Now wait, just a second.'' Says Juror 3. `` This punk kid killed his dad. He's clearly some poor punk with an attitude who deserves to be punished.''
`` You're making assumptions that are biased. We know someone killed their father with a knife. The neighbor without her glasses on claimed it was the defendant, but we have testimony the defendant left earlier muddying that claim. The old man could n't have seen the defendant, at least not if the defendant was a young man, again contradicting his claim. His hearing was also poor, and what does'I'm going to kill you' really mean? People say it all the time. What hard evidence do we have?'' Says Juror 8.
`` Fine, we can vote by secret ballot. If it's 11 not guilty, I'll go along.'' Says Juror 3.
The foreman counts them. `` Eleven not guilty.''
`` But, he lives in a slum. He's a punk kid. No respect for his father.'' Says Juror 3.
`` It happened in a slum. You assume he's poor because of that and his public defense. The defendant may have done it, but I'm not going to send him to his death over this.''
`` Fine. I hope you can live yourself when he kills again.'' Says Juror 3.
`` Honestly, we would n't know if they did or did n't.'' Says Juror 8.
The jury submits their verdict, and the person goes free.
***
If you like this story, I also have a subreddit [ r/nickkuvaas ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/nickkuvaas/ )
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[ WP ] In an effort to keep up with the times , the Greek Gods have gone democratic . Elections are now held for the ruler of Mount Olympus
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`` A powerful honest God who has ruled over Mount Olympus for Eons.
But who is Zeus really?
He wants you to think he's an honest family man.
But he has been sighted cheating on his loyal wife Hera with a multitude of mortal women.
He says he's against abortion, calling it an abomination and a waste of life. His one-hundred and twenty seven children will surely attest to that.
But do you know who ca n't back him up on this claim? The unborn child he ate.
Remember a vote for Zeus is a vote for philandering child eaters.
I'm Hades, Lord of the Underworld and I approve this message.''
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[ WP ] A soldier is tied to a pole and blindfolded to be executed for cowardice during combat in WWI . When hearing the guns raise , something baffling keeps him alive .
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In the early days of the war, I went by Sasha. I was a young man, maybe 16. I had lied my way to volunteering for the great Russian Empire. I was still a teenager but I was very brave. I heard my first machine gun fire as we approached the German lines. My bravery had disappeared. I reached for my gun and began to shoot into the sky. My commander was very disappointed in me. He took his right hand and raised it high into the air. `` This one.'' He said.
Not even a second later and two very large men were dragging me across the field. They knocked me out. My world went black. When I awoke I was at a camp and my hands were tied around a large flag pole.
I looked up to see a line of men getting ready to raise their guns. I remember the seat beading down my face, my palms shivering, and my heart pounding in my chest. I knew my fate. In Russia we had no trials.
Before they could raise their guns, a shout came over the speaker. `` Dinner. Dinner. Bolshevik. Dinner.'' The men shouted louder. They dropped there guns and ran. I remember men taking off their uniforms and shouting that the war for them was over.
I stood there tied to the pole, where was I to go? My commander came to me with a big smile. `` Yesterday you were dead. Today you are Red!''
At the time I did not know what that meant. I would soon learn.
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[ WP ] You 're digging in your backyard when you fall into a deep underground lake . When you surface , there is an old man waiting for you with a torch . He beckons you forward .
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Ditch Digging. My least favorite pastime. Pa told me it would be the only thing I'd ever be good at As long as i kept ditching school. As punishment for skipping school and going to the city with some friends this last week, I would be digging holes for each day I was away. Mother was furious, worried sick that I didnt call. But what can I say? I do n't have a cell phone. Digging holes is dads favorite punishment- and Ive gotten good at it. I might become a ditch digger after all.
Not like I missed anything at school. Stupid crap about mathematics? buoyancy? who cares? I crave adventure. This town is too small, the country is too boring. To make this town more interesting i had taken to leaving and going into the city only two or so hours away.
I had been digging for a couple of hours. Not just one hole I had actually dug up a few holes. Used my shovel to measure. Each was pretty easy to dig. Moist even. I had looked up into the sky and taken a drink of my water and wiped sweat from my forehead. Thats when it happened, the ground under me began to give in and I could feel the exact second I was no longer standing on solid ground. I fell- Much Much longer than I had expected. At first I thought i was falling into a sewer or something. But i just kept falling. Darkness. I thought I was going to die.
I fell into water. The light from the hole I came in through was gone. I was no longer in the same world I was in before. Something big moved ON TOP of the water. It didnt make much sense, Where I was or What that was. I was apparently in a cave. When I reached what seemed to be shallow water I made my way to less shallow water and eventually into a clearing in this cave.
I saw a light from the distance. I made my way closer to It and It was a grey old man with a beard standing before me. He said he knew the way to the exit. When we got the the exit of the cave the old man looked at me and said-
`` It's dangerous to go alone, take this''
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[ WP ] Set in the universe of Inception , you are a detective tasked with catching serial killers by entering their minds to discover if they are demented .
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Water from a broken metal pipe welcomed me in. My reflection looks beat up and gashed in the puddles. Picking oneself up becomes a chore when you've done it as many times as I have. I guess people do worse things for money, I just ca n't think of many right now.
The building I woke up in was nondescript. The broken plates making friends with the floor and the maps assuring you that `` you are here.'' I head out to the road watched over by various collapsing structures trying to recollect the case details.
Sal Davis, eighteen year old raped, flayed and dismembered. The stuff nutcases are made of. This man needs to be hung from the highest tree and pickled in formaldehyde, not reasoned with.
I spot a figure some way ahead. A priest, seemed harmless enough in this hellhole.
`` Where we headed?'' I say catching up.
`` To the town'' His startled response almost a reflex.
`` Many people to preach there?''
`` Not many'' His voice trailed. `` You're the first person I've seen in some time. Are you okay?''
`` Ca n't complain.''
`` How do you feel?''
`` Like I'm in a dead sprint heading nowhere.''
`` Is there something you need to confess, son?''
Sure does n't waste a lot of time to set up his booth, this guy. I'm not going to get anything useful from him. Here's hoping we make it to the town quick.
The awkward silence fills in with sounds of thunder. The screeching winds sound like a disgruntled symphony from above. Just my luck that I'm drenched for the second time in one day. That's when we spot him descend out from the storm.
He had no skin at all. His ligaments splintered, fell down and reformed with every movement. His touch was hot to make the road crunch. This was his world and his gaze was upon us.
`` I told you to leave me alone.''
`` Why did have to you kill that girl?'' Shit. I must have left the gun back at the building.
I turn to the priest. He fishes into his pockets. Loose change and a crucifix. A little late to be praying. The sounds are deafening.
I pick up a twisted piece of metal on the ground, point it towards him. The crazed weather looks like an extension of his self.
`` You will never get out of my world.''
Dead sprint heading nowhere... I level my weapon and charge. The clouds cut open.
Forensic psychologist Martin Chow finds himself submerged in a bathtub. His buddies quickly pull him out and throw a towel his way.
`` So? Any information about the missing girl? Her parents wo n't stop calling.''
`` No.'' Martin looks at the restrained suspect still hooked to the machine.
`` What's his subconscious like?''
`` Fascinating. His dissociative identity disorder creates constructs that have appear to act according their will. There's an internal battle of morality, one construct even happens to be an investigator trying to get at the truth.''
`` Maybe we should've hired him instead.''
`` Yeah, maybe.'' Martin takes out his crucifix and clutches his totem tight.
Edit: Minor tweaks
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[ WP ] Monogamy is futile , and you both know it . but hey , you 're in love .
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The elephant in the room is n't much of an elephant. More like a mouse.
And I think Eleanor knows it too. We've both known it for a while. We are both logical people, looking at things with a clear mind for what they actually are. Although it does n't make it any easier, a balancing act necessary for this partnership to work. Together for almost 6 years.
The first year was great. The Honeymoon period when we would constantly be fucking, gazing into each other's eyes with a hot romance characterized by every lovey-dovey movie ever made.
Our days seemed like they would never end. The feeling of novelty flooded both of us like a tsunami, making for an interesting relationship.
We agreed on being exclusive to each other.
The term Monogamy to me represents an agreement among 2 people, to be mutually exclusive in an emotional, mental, and physical way. We said this is how it would go.
It might be just me, but I felt like after the first little while, things began to “ settle ”. Settling is n't a bad thing, it means you're getting comfortable which the idea of spending forever together. Novelty is called novelty for a reason. But Eleanor seemed different.
I would catch her being very friendly with other guys. Asking her about Dave from the office, or George from the gym, she would shrug it off and tell me she loved me.
I was n't perfect either. I'd be very attracted to one or more people from the gym, or Delilah from HR. I even told Eleanor about it and it did n't seem to bug her at all.
“ You love me? ” She would ask.
“ Of course ” I would always say.
After our 5th year, a sudden conclusion dropped on us like a piano falling from a New York Skyrise.
The agreement we had made 6 years ago about being a monogamous couple was shattering. A glass table with a growing pressure, ready to break at any moment.
“ We should talk about something ” I asked.
“ About what? ”
“ I am getting the impression that you and I might be on the same page about something. About our relationship ”
She stayed silent.
“ I see how you look at the other guys out there. And you see me. We both have this fire for other people, and I know you feel it too ”
Eleanor started to cry. She hid her face and started sniffling, her body shaking as the tears fell from her eyes.
“ I know, and I'm so confused about it all. I love you with all I can muster, yet I have such an attraction for others ”
This hurt. Alot. I did n't expect it to feel like a million butterflies punching me in my stomach.
“ What should we do? ” She asked.
Eleanor and I talked about our options. We could have had an open relationship, but the idea of her making love to other people made me upset, despite both of us being in the same boat. I guess it's the idea of me knowing what's going on.
She felt the same.
The love that we have is still there, and always will be. That wo n't change.
Although it's too bad our perspective on monogamy did.
It's hard being in this circumstance, knowing she's out there having sex and loving others. That's the fear we all have deep down. I just wish this would have been talked about sooner, so my heart did n't grow so fond for her.
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[ WP ] One hour before a nuclear strike hits a city , an artist sets up his canvas at the mountain-side , waiting to paint the magnificence of the explosion .
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I was so afraid...
Ever since I heard the news I could n't sleep. I just stayed awake night after another. It was n't healthy, I know, but I just thought I had so much I had not completed with my life. I could never get into that college studying as a biochemist, I could never start a family, or see my children grow up. So much from life I craved for.
And when Alexandra suggested how to spend our last moments, i thought she was absolutely nuts.
So, now i'm on top of this mountain, spending my final moments with my girlfriend and my closest friends, everyone close to me was there, Johan, Paul and Viktor were all there. We all sat on top of the mountain, just staring down to the city. Alexandra was ready, with her brushes and canvas, and exited about capturing this magnificent event. `` Magnificent'', All of humanity was about to be destroyed and she wanted to paint? Well, I do n't think there is anything better to be done.
So she sat there. We all saw the meteorite descending, we saw the crash. It was horrible. Everything about this lonely town I had grown to love was destroyed in the blink of an eye. All the memories, this was the final moment i'd get to spend with my friends...
But I must say, I always admired Alexandra for her bravery. All the things she suffered in life and pulled through. I could never understand how she did it. And now, as the final moments were there, she just painted on the canvas.
*And she was n't the slightest bit scared. *
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[ WP ] Describe the autumn leaves giving way to winter .
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A sweet sullen whisper embraces all that I am, so relaxing, deceptively malicious.
My barriers slowly break down, I watch my family die around me.
What is the reason for this? There must be purpose for us to all have to go so quickly.
The comforting lullaby, replace, by the clutch of the unforgiving.
Everything I know, everything I am.... slowly... slower... slowest.
I can not even think.... All things come to stand still, and I fall.
Toppled upon by my loved ones we slowly fade away back to where we came, what will come next, will we suffer this fate over and over again?
Where am I..... what did I do? Why must I leave? ( Lol )
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[ OT ] 4yr Contest Voting - Round One ( of two )
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I'm voting for /u/madlabs67 and their story **'' It Only Takes One'' ** in Group E. I really enjoyed the author's take on morality - that the main character wants to do the right thing, but what the `` right thing'' is changes dramatically and suddenly. My sole criticism is that the beginning blurb seemed a little confusing and out of place - I understand that it's present to set the end scene and draw the readers attention, but spending a few more words painting a truly delicious portrait of that chaotic moment would n't have been out of place. Other than that, the social dynamics as well as the compelling portrait of a dramatic but otherwise everyday place and time work very, very well.
I do n't like declaring a runner-up, so... here. I'll just give my opinion on everyone's story, like I know what I'm talking about.
`` Greenland'', by /u/Barahagara - What a *fantastic* setting. The author's depiction of the glare, cold and loneliness of the glacial shelf was incredible. I especially enjoyed the very real and very frustrating description of the politics and posturing of working in a scientific field, but the main star of this story is the engrossing depiction of the environment itself. My major criticism is the ending, which did n't make a lot of sense, to me. I failed to understand what was happening or why, and the actions of the characters seemed sudden and purposeless. With a bit better communication of the rationale behind the actions, this could have been a bright, green-glowing, toxic star.
`` Holding on Tight'', by /u/BraveLittleAnt - I really enjoyed the tension and interplay between the characters during the car scenes. That was what drew me in - that nervous little world within the confines of the vehicle, and the desperate actions taken to just keep moving. The sheer determination to do the right thing was very well communicated. The only real criticism I can levy is on the ending, and may just be a point of personal taste: I found the brooding self-defeat to be kind of wearying, and it took me out of the narrative the more it was pressed. Still, that's pretty much my only major problem. Everything else was tops.
`` Desperation'' by /u/Ford9863 - This story is very nicely presented, and I really enjoyed the juxtaposition between the time Frank remembers living in and the actual present. The author communicated very well not only the set-pieces of that earlier age, but also the atmosphere and values of post-Vietnam America. Unfortunately, I am a vast and sucking void who only feels relief from my endless hunger upon the ingestion of fiction, so I knew about one-third of the way through the story how it was going to end. I wish I did n't, because the slow insistence of the modern world was very well woven into the narrative, but I did.
`` Better to have loved and lost'' by /u/kdt322 - Out of all the stories presented here, this one brought up the most legitimate emotion. The author has presented a great tragedy, that does exactly what tragedy should: makes the reader care for the characters, and then make them *hate* the fact that they care, because it hurts them. Samantha's continued indignation about her failed relationship even as her husband is dead in her own home is a very jarring portrait of madness. My only actual criticism is that the pacing slows after she ( thinks that she ) overhears the phone call, but I'm glad I pushed through to the really quite commendable ending. Very, very nice work.
`` Sunday'' by /u/mialbowy - Ngh. I'm sorry. I really, really do n't like to be harsh when I criticize something. You made a good effort, but this did n't grab me at all. I understand the difficulty of the prompt you chose, but there was no *conflict* in the story, and conflict is *why* there are stories. The `` problem'' the characters face is n't a problem at all, and the more the main characters harp on it, the less I wanted to keep reading. There's a very different narrative tone in the beginning, and I admit that I preferred it when the author *isn't* trying to elevate a non-issue through the use of fantastic diction. It took me a distinct effort to finish the story, and I hate that I have to say that, because I do n't like to be harsh. *'' First, get your character up a tree. Then, throw rocks at him. Then, get him down. `` *
`` Firefly'', by /u/TheWritingSniper - Guh. Again, I'm sorry. This did n't grab me. Your story *does* have a conflict, but it's only outright elucidated at the end, and there's nothing that really gets done about it. The story just seems to live in the problem. I get a distinct feeling of padding; the author states one thing, and then states it again with only a very minor change in language. Do n't get me wrong: the story's not *bad*, I do n't hate it, but it has major structural problems that I do n't know if *any* author can solve. I've read a number of stories where the main character is helpless throughout, and I've seen *none* of them succeed - the whole point of a character is that they have an impact on events through either action or presence. The main character here kicks off the story by presence, and then... nothing happens. It's an incredibly difficult kind of story to write. I'm sorry.
`` A week in the life'' by /u/translationlostin - Ah, bwah? Uh. Whoa. This one is... it's really, really bizarre. It reads like the kind of fever dream you have when you're trying to sleep through malaria after a few hits of salvia and a full tumbler of Robitussin. The whole structure of it is *strange*, from the rationale behind the main character's life choices to how every single newspaper seems to be reporting on the same handful of people and events. Do n't get me wrong: I love strange. I appreciate media that can make me feel bewildered and unglued from reality, and this story absolutely does that. I mean, I guess the ending was n't really an ending? But I ca n't really levy that criticism against something that, as far as I can tell, actively attempts to not make sense. I feel like I'm trapped in David Lynch's sex basement, and it's slowly filling with lavender-scented body wash. Wow. Uh. Write more things like this. The world needs to be weird.
`` Whiskey with a spider, beer for the queen'' by /u/Xiaeng - I really, really like the setup here. You have an unusual but not unsympathetic protagonist thrust very firmly out of his comfort zone, and the author's choice of words and phrasing very much emphasizes the strangeness of the situation. Then it gets all... the best way I can describe it is like having a dream that you're playing a video game. The protagonist traverses a dungeon, finds a magic weapon, and confronts the final boss. Which is kind of jarring, but can work if supported. Unfortunately I do n't think that support was present - nothing of the *why* behind this scenario is even hinted at. Events just sort of proceed because, sure, why not. I really wish the Queen had been different - more imperialistic, more cryptic, barely deigning to speak to the protagonist and every answer only offering more questions. This story is halfway to being something really singular. I would love to see it edited into a tight fractal spiral of liquor-soaked dream logic.
Nguh. Do n't hate me. Everyone did super well, and I'm really pleased with everyone's effort. Thank you for making some cool words for me to read.
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[ WP ] `` If it eases her pain , then let her sing . ''
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If it eases her pain, then let her sing
Sordid songs in minor keys.
Every lyric passing though
A pair of frowning lips
She'll articulate her torture
Teach the world its ignorance
Of the horrid state of safety
In a world where she's known none
She will sing her life away until it's done.
If you hear the refrain, then let it ring
Morbid songs sung honestly.
We're all just naive children
Turning pages in a book
We neglect the author's input
We ignore and overlook
Every earnest song of sorrow
For a view that meets our needs
We will write our lives away until we're freed.
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[ WP ] Sabrina the Teenage Witch , now in her 40 's , wishes to take over the Coven from the Grand Witch Samantha Stephens , the Bewitched Housewife .
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Sabrina felt nervous waiting for her turn to speak to the Witches Council. Seating right opposite her is her opponent and rival Tabitha Stephens, the Grand Witch's daughter. Sabrina is n't worried though as Tabitha is a known misfit in the Witches circle. Her brother Adam Stephens would have been a better candidate had he not renounced his powers to marry a mortal. Like mother like son, Sabrina thought.
She and Tabitha have n't spoke for a decade since that incident.
However, Sabrina had felt their anger towards each other had gone on for to long.
Before Sabrina could open here mouth, Tabitha spoke out first.
`` I am sorry for what happened 10 years ago, Sabrina. Can we be friends again?''
Sabrina was shocked. She did not expect Tabitha to say those words.
`` Also I did n't come here to apply for my mother's job. I came here to see you.''
Sabrina was speechless.
Before Sabrina could say anything, a cat appears.
`` You are summon before the Witches Council, Sabrina Spellman.''
Sabrina looked at Tabitha and turn towards the cat.
`` Tell the Witches Council, I and Tabitha are revoking our application. Hope they find another candidate that is not call Serena!''
Sabrina then quickly to grab Tabitha by the hand and asked `` Would you like to go to France and have some tea?''
Tabitha just smile and nodded.
`` Then let's go!!'' With a snap of her fingers, Sabrina and Tabitha disappear in a whiff of smoke.
The cat then transformed into Endora. `` Oh how revolting. I thought Tabitha could be the next Grand Witch. Oh well, there is always a next time.'' Endora then disappear in a blink of an eye.
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[ WP ] Your elderly neighbor is often seen catering to her lovely garden . You just returned home from a horticulture class , and fresh with new knowledge of plant life , you suddenly realize that every plant in your neighbor 's yard is a deadly poison .
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`` Hello Derek!''
`` Hey Mrs Bergen,'' I smiled nervously at the apple-cheeked biddy industriously weeding on the other side of the fence.
She smiled at me, her face wreathed in laugh lines. `` Out enjoying the lovely weather, I see.''
`` Yeah,'' My smile felt forced. `` I wanted to, um, make sure I kept up with my yard-maintenance - do n't want to look like a complete eye-sore next to you, right? Hah... hah.''
`` What a darling boy you are, Derek. You know, you're the first neighbour I've had in nearly ten years who's had that sentiment. And they've all moved on so quickly, too. They hardly last a season! Good riddance for bad neighbours is what I say, though.'' She tittered at her own joke.
`` Ahh ha ha...'' I clutched my yard-waste bag like a shield. In some ways, it was. `` Well, I would n't want to be a bad neighbour, so if you have any tips for my garden, just... let me know, alright? I'm new to the whole home-ownership thing, so I've got a lot to learn.''
`` We're just so glad we've got someone we can get advice from, hah. A pro!'' My wife sounded stilted, but I hoped Mrs Bergen would n't mind. She'd come out of the house and come to stand beside me without my noticing. She twisted her gardening gloves in white-knuckled fists.
`` What *nice* young people you are,'' Mrs Bergen was absolutely delighted, and I felt a band around my chest loosen slightly. `` I'll help in any way I can!''
`` We'd better get to it if we want to get it done today, though, so you have a great day, Mrs. Bergen!''
We moved to start work in the front yard, out from under the old woman's twinkling gaze.
`` I wish we'd never taken that beginner's gardening class,'' I muttered three hours later, sweat coating my sunburned body.
`` You'd rather get on her bad side without knowing it?'' my wife countered, wiping her forehead and leaving a smear of dirt.
`` How can one garden have that many deadly plants in it?''
`` How can one house have so many foreclosures due to the owners running off on their mortgages?'' she replied, viciously prying another dandelion out of the lawn. `` How could two intelligent people not have done any research on our'steal' of a house's history?''
***
The next day when I came home from work I found my wife sitting at the kitchen table, a potted plant and a note in front of her. She handed the plant guide to me the moment I drew near.
`` Hey hon,'' I said, taking it and glancing down at the open page. I did a double-take, looking back at the lovely pink-flowering plant on the table. `` Is... is that... oleander on our table?''
`` She says it's for our garden. She gave us instructions on how to take care of it,'' my wife whispered, her voice cracking. `` Do you think this means she likes us?'' she asked, finally looking away from the plant to stare at me, eyes huge. `` Or is it a threat?''
I read the note that had come with the plant, a series of pleasantries about lovely neighbours, how our yard had n't looked better in ten years, what we could do to improve it even more. I shuddered and put it back on the table.
`` Maybe both?''
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[ WP ] Write out the most recent dream/nightmare you had . Embellish it or flesh it out if you have to , just get it out there !
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I am unable to move, my body parched with thirst and sore with fever. The sun is setting, and the woman watching over me walks to the banister, overlooking the front door on the floor below. As the world grows darker, I fear for my own safety, while also ashamed that I am unable to help the woman.
She goes throughout the house, obsessively turning out every source of artificial light. We absolutely can not stand out once night falls.
An hour passes, and suddenly the woman twitches, and grabs the rifle leaning against the wall. She takes aim at the door. I feel as though I am seeing through her eyes in my delirious state, and watch the shadows moving just outside my home. The doorknob squeaks, as the outsiders tamper with the door. All those precautions, and still we are found.
There is still hope, as my guardian keeps the rifle trained on the door, unflinching, but visibly afraid, sweating profusely. So absorbed with the scene in front of her, she neglects to notice the window opening slowly behind her.
I want to scream, warn her, but nothing will function properly, I am too sick. A humanoid figure clambers inside, making hardly a sound. He is in an all black outfit, an assault rifle slung on his back and a gas-mask obscuring his face. We are nothing to these intruders skill and experience. He draws a curved blade from his belt, and in one smooth motion, steps forward and stabs the woman in the gut. She drops to the floor soundlessly, finally released from our collective nightmare of survival.
I, on the other hand, am still very trapped. Suddenly I regain control of my body and manage to sit up. The gasmask-man glances in my direction. The lenses over his eyes flash with the movement. Unbelievably, he turns away. I do not know why, but it clear mercy is not his motivation. Later I realize that raiders like him want their victims to rebuild, so that they may be tapped for resources again later.
I collapse into my bed, unwilling to watch as they ransack my home in their quiet methodical way. In the morning, I awake, and I am alone. Most of my possessions are gone, but a large stack remains by the front door. The men plan to return. The next night, I hide, and follow them back to their lair.
For now though, I am alone. The woman's body remains by the banister. I was overwhelmed by fear previously... But now, I simply am.
[ The dream actually continued after this, but it was more disjointed and even less logical. Basically the men came back and I followed them, but when I tried to confront them I woke up. Very distressing dream, but enjoyable to look back on, actually kind of a cool story ]
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[ WP ] The only two ( secret ) telepaths in the world are introduced to each other at a party . On the surface they are cordial and polite ... but mentally a battle rages on .
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Dorothea ’ s mind itched – most people would have scratched it. They would assume that the feeling meant that they had forgotten something and would start casting about in their heads to draw up those important things that they may have forgotten. Not her. It was a breach and it made her feel wide open, like she was naked in the center of the room. She glanced over her shoulder instead and tried to look for unfamiliar people in the crowd.
The party was in full swing. The new product launch had been successful and the company execs had, in an uncharacteristically gracious move, offered their overworked employees a few free drinks in a nice locale.
Engineers, programmers, designers and those who purported to love them gathered in the posh rented bar at the base of their high-rise office. Most of them had even tried to dress up.
She had never seen so much as a stitch of a tie in the three years she ’ d worked with these people and tonight she was seeing suit jackets, tie-clips and polished shoes. Her search for the uninvited visitor knocking on the door to her mind was hindered by the subtle change in everyone ’ s dress, from casual to refined. She wasn ’ t so good with faces.
Face-blind they call it when, for example, most white women with brown hair looked more or less the same, except for the degree of age. And low lights, makeup and new styles of dress obscured even those small reference points.
She sipped the last of her fizzy, lemony Pimm ’ s and headed towards the bar. She needed a vantage point.
The light buzz in her head from the alcohol helped soothe the louder clamouring in her head from the multitude of “ indoor voices ” broadcasting at her from everyone else ’ s heads. She felt disoriented.
Three steps from her destination two gleaming, black shoes stepped into her path. She looked up from the floor and started the delicate guesswork of deciphering whose face was swimming in front of her.
Thankfully it was easy. Jay, her superior twice-removed, always wore crisp white, embroidered ( *cowboy*, her mind supplied ) shirts. She could see the edge of some colourful bird in flight on the panels of his shirt, under a dark blazer.
At his side was a very, very short person ( *Little person*, she reminded herself before she accidentally said the totally un-PC word, “ midget ” ). From the long hair and the fairly sizable boobs she gathered right away that the person was a girl. She was just another white, 20-something, brunette woman aside from her short stature.
“ Dorothea! ” Jay said, and then remembered that this wasn ’ t the office, “ DOTTIE! ” he amended and his mind told him, ** “ yeah, that totally made me sound like a cool boss ” **.
He indicated to the woman at his side, “ This is Carly Boyd, she ’ s a consultant doing QA for the upcoming fiscal. ”
Carly looked at Dottie and Dottie looked at her and they dutifully shook hands.
The connection was instant. Carly intruded and it felt like a hard punch to the head. She rifled through all the subconscious thoughts in Dottie ’ s head before she was able to stop it with the unmovable image of a DANGER – KEEP OUT sign.
Both of their hands dropped naturally enough considering the intrusion and the alcohol. Jay certainly didn ’ t notice anything amiss; he started talking about templates and assessment criteria.
“ **Nice move. That was unexpected** ” Carly said as if she were speaking directly into her head.
“ **WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR? ** ” She asked forcefully, willing her mouth not to move with the shouted thought.
“ **None of your business. ** ” Carly shrugged and smiled, “ That sounds feasible, Jay. My team can make that work, ” Carly said aloud.
“ You should take Carly on a tour of the office on Monday. ” Jay suggested strongly, “ She ’ ll be working closely with your team. ”
“ **What IS it? ** ” Dottie thought and launched her own assault on Carly ’ s mind. She was almost immediately shut out by her own tactic used against her but she caught a single fleeting thought, tinged with alarm: the name of their competitor.
*Corporate espionage*, she thought to herself. She was thrilled at the possibility - at the cloak and dagger of it.
*Spy versus spy*, she thought.
*Recognition for exemplary service*, she thought.
The silence had stretched on now, a few beats too long, but she was able to compose herself and smile, “ Absolutely Jay, I ’ d be happy to take her under my wing. ” She aimed a cheery smile at Carly.
*I ’ m going to bring her down*, she promised.
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[ IP ] Nature fights back .
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I took a long drag from my cigarette, and then cursed as I realized horses do n't have ash trays.
I was nowhere near as pissed as Mt. Kilimanjaro, which was crapping fire and roaring like a banshee. ( How a mountain screams without a mouth I do n't know. )
My fellow warrior had been eaten by a group of bushes. Now, you may be wonderin' how a bush could kill you. When there's 50 of those bastards with razor sharp teeth, you'd be surprised. Fortunately, fire beats bush, and I've got a flamethrower.
What I'm sitting here on my horse trying to figure out as a 4-legged mountain runs toward me, is what the hell is a flamethrower going to do against a mountain?
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[ IP ] Wrong Path
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The rocky structures jutted up from the ground and provided a beautiful contrast against the colorful but constantly dimming sunset. The land was barren and desolate, every living thing that seemed to have once presided in that place was now just a husk of its former self. I do n't know exactly where I made the mistake, was it in Velan or Norwich? All I knew was that I messed up somewhere and I was most definitely on the wrong Path.
You would think that as a seasoned hunter, you would at least receive some respect from the people that you save. Hell, if not for me the entire kingdom would have been killed off by wyverns at least five years back. And the grindorphs after that, or the cerastes. The fact is that I, unlike other hunters, saved out of gratuity rather than for pay. And that is one of the reasons why I was so successful.
The people of Norwich were scared of me. In their own words; `` I am more related to the monsters I am killing than the people who I protect'' and `` it was only a matter of time before I started killing them as well''. Class A segregation. The majority of people push something away due to fear caused by difference. They burned my house down and ran me out of town. I did not strike back, I did not want to prove them right.
I understand why I was called for this job. The town needed a quick solution to a problem and they lacked the funds for a traditional hunter. Track and kill the beast that had been killing their livestock in the middle of the night. They had sent some of their best men, but none had come back. I understood that I was a disposable asset, but I was their only hope. And in my desperate times, I accepted the contract.
As I walked to this new land, I had no clue what to expect. The vast sky was covered in rock formations and scorched earth. The stiff gravel under my boots seemed to consist of carbuncle and fire-stones. The last glimpse of the sun reflected off of them and made it seem almost as if the ground itself was on fire. I wandered forward aimlessly as if searching for something.
As the vast darkness of night approached quickly, I heard something out of the ordinary. A bellow, like a goat's, rang out from all around me. I stopped and looked around, I saw nothing. The landscape was shrouded by the newly found darkness and my eyes were still having a hard time adjusting to it. When all of a sudden I saw it.
Standing about 30 yards in front of me appeared a gigantic goat, with horns that burned red as hot coals. It was obvious to me what I was looking at. The feared and powerful hegoath. A beast that burns with such great intensity that its blood is capable of melting diamonds.
I changed my stance and braced myself for one of the most dangerous and difficult fights of my entire life.
-- -
Thank you for reading my story `` The Wrong Path'', I enjoyed writing this story and I am thinking of continuing this into a full-fledged series. Please leave helpful feedback that could help me improve my writing skill.
[ Bestiary ] ( http: //bestiary.ca/beasts/beastalphashort.htm )
Visit my subreddit /r/505k for more short stories.
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[ WP ] What is your idea of beauty ?
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It was 10pm on a January night when I heard that small familiar sound. I wondered if it was just my imagination, as I had wanted to hear it ever since mid-November. It came again, that rumbling from the skies that seemed to shake me as if it was an earthquake. Adrenaline moved through my body as I opened the curtains. I was right; a storm had begun. Springing from the sofa, I ran to put on my coat and boots before rushing out of the house. It was such a heavy storm that the moment I walked out, my hair became stuck to my face and my leggings were soaked through. I loved that. I loved the feeling that I was vulnerable to nature, that nature could do what it liked with me. At the same time, I felt safe, as if I felt that nature would never allow me to die, for it would take pity on its creations. I breathed in the sharp clear air, surprising my throat. Then I ran. I ran past the lampposts, I ran past the abandoned umbrellas, I ran past the shops. I ran, continuing to gasp in the pure icy cold of the air, attempting to preserve it. I laughed as I ran, as rain bombarded my face until it was almost painful, and the thunder and lightning continued their delightful orchestra. I never could understand why some people hated storms. For me, storms were clarity. They were freedom. They were beautiful.
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[ WP ] At the climatic final battle the hero , chosen by gods , fought the evil one . However , in the end evil was too strong and our hero was slain ... fear not though for he was a Chosen One , not the Chosen One .
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Tears streamed down his face. He hunched over his father, who lay there in the red dust with the last of his breath trickling from between his lips. The father looked up into his son's face, his eyes filled with bewilderment and pain. His hand grasped the son's elbow. The hand was weak now, no longer filled with the strength of a champion. No longer filled with the might of a saviour.
The father coughed. Red foam speckled his mouth and a rivulet trickled into the dust, staining it a deeper red. He tried to talk.'I... I could n't best him...' He glanced down at his ruined legs, lying useless and immobile. Now tears came to his eyes.'I....'
Bloody foam bubbled once again from between his lips, and he winced with each breath.
'I thought it was going to be OK.... you know?' The words came slowly, with great effort.'I thought I would be able to free us from this tyrant. ’ His head rolled backwards, his eyes now pointing to heaven, the focus leaving them. ‘ The gods told me... ’ And his eyes closed.
The son held his father and sobbed. His clothes were covered with blood, but that didn ’ t bother him. He ’ d been his father ’ s shadow for many a year now, and they ’ d seen their share of violence and mayhem. He was forced to follow his father at an early age, as his mother and sisters had died in one of the raids from the North Men. That left him and his father homeless, and living in a land governed by a tyrant. The tyrant was a huge man. Standing nearly half as tall again over other men, in addition to being broad and muscular. A few had attempted to take the power from him, but they too ended up as his father did. Broken, bloody, battered. All dead.
The son had followed his father, as they travelled from city to city, struggling to find enough food to fill their bellies. The father ended up being a hired sword, fighting for whichever lord, duke, or earl had the coin to pay for the cause. And the son followed, as an assistant to his father. And he learned. In the quiet times he would practice his swordsmanship, learning to wield the deadly instruments of war. And yet now, here he was, his father and mentor dying before him.
He looked up now. The hot tears stinging his hard, angry face. The tyrant stood there, massive, his hands resting on the pommel of the sword, the tip resting on the ground in front of him. The tyrant's face was like granite. Impassively watching the scene before him. It was of little interest to him, and he ’ d seen it play out like this many times before. Over and over, the same results.
The son stood on shaky legs. He stooped and picked up his father ’ s sword. It felt sticky in his hand, and heavy. The tip wavered towards the ground, but he steeled himself, and it rose slowly, his hands finding a true grip. He raised the weapon above his head, and with a scream of rage, launched towards the giant before him.
And as he closed the distance, a memory flitted across his mind, like a butterfly across a green field full of sunshine. That of him and his father in the temple, and the oracle. The blind oracle, pointing towards them... ‘ You shall defeat the scourge of our land! ’
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[ WP ] You 're sitting alone in the dark in front of your computer , laughing at something you saw on the internet . You stop laughing , but the laughing continues .
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I rubbed my eyes. It was getting late, and I had that audition in the morning, but Reddit was on good form this evening, and was doing a better job than usual of holding my attention. I clicked the next blue link, an r/GetMotivated post about not wasting time. I reflected on it briefly, feeling that familiar spark of conviction to better myself fizzle away before moving on to the next link. I yawned, and leaned back in my chair, taking a drink of water. My head was throbbing slightly, but I was used to having headaches and this was mild by comparison. I looked over at the blue notebook that was lying by the now empty glass I just set down, the notebook I ’ d resolved, a long time ago, to fill with notes and thoughts to augment what would become a burgeoning writing career. I permitted myself a moment of shame for dreams unfulfilled, before returning to my laptop. After getting a little further down the page I was distracted, suddenly, by a piercing wail from outside. It rose and fell to a terrible pitch, and for a moment I thought of a woman screaming, before realising that it must be a fox. A light by the living room door flickered slightly, as I clicked another link, but I barely noticed.
3am and I was still browsing, slowly becoming aware of the stinging weight beneath my eyes. I counted how many hours of sleep now awaited me and sighed at the result. *One more link*, I decided. Outside, the fox screamed again. It sounded so human. I went to my profile and then to my ‘ saved ’ list, not sure what I ’ d find. I skimmed down and spotted an r/AskReddit thread about images that never fail to make you laugh. I smiled even at the thought of what I knew I ’ d see, and clicked on the top link. Sure enough, it was the shit-eating grin of that little dog, with the accompanying commentary. I stared at the dog ’ s stupid face for a moment before a chuckle escaped me, rising quickly to a hearty laugh. I looked away for a moment, and then back again, only to laugh harder until I was almost crying. *I must really be tired*, I thought, as I finally stopped. But panic, suddenly, my chest tightened. There was still laughter in my ears. *My* laughter. My mouth was closed, but I could hear it clearly in my ears, as though it was coming from all around me. The dog's grin on the screen suddenly seemed grotesque and terrifying. Instinctively I closed Chrome, but it didn ’ t stop. It was my voice. My voice, coming from somewhere outside of me. I looked around the room, feeling my heart racing, my breath short. The light by the door was flickering. *It must be the computer*. I tried to shut it down, but it was frozen. I tried again. And again, as the laughter now no longer mimicked how I ’ d been laughing before, but now, still in my voice, became more hysterical, perhaps to match the hysteria I felt as I now smashed the keys on my laptop until the screen tore violently into a jagged mess of distorted colours, and an insane screech burst from the speakers, blending with the shrieking laughter that assailed my ears and my very grip on reality. A jumped to my feet, turning to run. To where, I don ’ t know, but I was frantic with fear. I raced to the living room door, past the flickering light, tore it open and was grabbed and pulled into the arms of something. Something with a fox mask on its face. Something that laughed, and screamed, with my voice even as its hands tightened around my throat.
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[ WP ] When a parent dies , their knowledge and skills immediately pass on to their eldest child . An adoptee is shocked at what they discover when they receive their inheritance without warning .
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Grandpa had held on as long as he possibly could. When pops finally passed, my father changed. He seemed to retreat from everyone, and he stopped speaking. A couple of days later he stopped eating.
I tried to help him, but he would n't answer his door. Now, I sit alone in the dark instinctively touching my neck and expecting to feel something where the rope got tighter and tighter.
The secret grandfather hid all those years eats at my very being, and I wish I could join my father. I'm in a bit of a pickle though. My own son was just born. So, for him, I must hold on as long as I can.
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[ WP ] Tell a story through only one side of a telephone call .
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`` Yes, this is she''
`` In trouble again?''
`` No! Sis I told you to stay away from that no good...''
`` Well yes I'll help. Did you think I would n't?''
`` We're family, that's what we do.''
`` No, I mean it. You mean so much to me sis.''
`` Awww, I love you more.''
`` Sure. Meet me at the river in 20 minutes, and bring something to smoke.''
`` Of course I know. I've known for a while''
`` No I'm not mad''
`` Really? I thought you knew.''
`` Guess I was better at hiding it than even I thought.''
`` Nah. Keep your chin up. We'll get through this, just like always.''
`` Love you too. Lets kick some ass!!''
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[ WP ] You are the protagonist in a Horror story , but the thing is : You do n't give a fuck .
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This was the third time this week Steve had been late for work. Not because of imbecilic drivers and cyclists, oh Steve prayed for cyclists. The problem with zombies were how malleable they are after a few weeks. Almost like water they fit into any crevice and crack they can find, gumming up the car for the third time this week.
His troubles were n't over when he arrived at work in his limb laden vehicle. Even normal co-workers will suck the soul out of you. But these kind, the ones who want to suck your blood offer so many more problems than Steve had the effort to deal with.
Holidays were n't much better, in-laws would normally mean therapy after the fact. But Steve's were a different beast entirely, specifically werewolves. With claws as barbed as their words family get togethers normally required physical therapy as well.
Gone were the days of zombie massacres, vampire hunts and silver bullets for the extended family. Steve had long given up on that life. Of course it was always a nice exercise in stress relief but really all Steve wanted now a days was to have time to spend with his sexy witch wife.
-- -- -- -- -
Still learning the ropes of this. Criticisms and comments welcome.
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[ WP ] Every morning , your alarm clock has a slider that tells you how important this day will be overall in your life . After a few weeks of very unimportant days , you awake to the slider far to the right ; today is going to be one of the most important days of your life .
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Jim awoke with a yawn.
He took a stretch. Camilla's sleeping form lay beside him. She was beautiful when she slept.
Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Jim glanced over at the clock.
*8:35 AM*
Jim's internal alarm clock was nearly perfect. He never needed to set one. It was time to get up and get ready for work.
His eyes flickered over the lower display of the alarm clock. James did a double take. *10/10*. The highest possible.
His eyes widened in wonderment.
He stared at it for a full two minutes. What could it mean? He had *never* seen a 10/10. Never.
Finally, he shook the thought from his head. He had figured out long ago that it did n't matter if you dwelt on it or not, the clock never lied. James had owned the thing for ten years. It was an ugly thing.
Camilla had tried to throw it out. He did n't let her. She did n't understand. She could n't see the display.
*My display. *
Jim was fully awake now.
He showered and shaved. All the while he wondered what could possibly make this day so important. Maybe he should call his mother, what if it was *that* day?
He pushed the thought from his mind.
Taking one last, long look at Camilla, he left their small apartment.
He was careful on his drive to work. He eyed everything and everyone. His mind kept replaying the same thought. *10/10*.
The day was... average. Work ended the way it had begun. Jim logged off the computer.
Night was falling. The twilight hours bathed the city in unreal hues. There was n't very much time for something important to happen. That made Jim very nervous.
He drove home in silence. No radio.
Each passing set of headlights was a danger. Every intersection was a death trap. Still, he drove on.
*10/10. *
As he rode the elevator to the apartment, he wondered what could possibly be the reason. Why had the clock determined that today, an average day, be so important?
He opened the door to his apartment.
`` Camilla?'' He called, `` I'm home, dear.''
There was no response.
Jim stepped into the silent apartment. He noticed the grocery bags sitting on the dinner table. He noticed the caller ID light flashing on the house phone.
`` Camilla?'' He called again, `` are you here?''
He walked slowly down the darkened hallway.
Light poured out from the bathroom door. It was slightly ajar. The silence was so complete that Jim could hear his own breathing.
Slowly, he pushed the bathroom door open.
*10/10. *
He saw her then.
She sat on the lid of the toilet. In her hands was a small piece of plastic. She clutched it tightly.
`` Camilla?'' Jim asked.
She looked up at him. A strange look in her eyes.
`` Darling,'' she whispered, `` I'm pregnant.''
A smile crossed Jim's face.
*10/10. *
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[ WP ] : Adam and Eve were n't people , they were ships sent by a dying race of a wasted planet to Eden , or Earth , as it 's now called .
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The Clothed Man took a deep breath as he gazed upon the destruction that perfection built. The thick smog overtook the pillars of the capital and for once, he was distinctly alone. He could still remember the days before Nathair became head of state, the days when laughter flew into the hills every morning, grass still held shades of green and the light of stars contrasted the deep blue of the midnight sky. Now there was brown.
With a sigh, The Man turned toward his shelter, a small cave carved in the side of a hill, and stepped inside. For once, the musty air of the hole was preferable to the air outside. As he walked down a shallow incline the fruit of his labors came into view. Two spheres floated in the air, bobbing in tandem with The Man's failing breath. For a year, he had spent every moment he could working on them. First was Adam, containing seeds, what little grass the Man could find, life, and from him came Eve, metals, fire, passion. They were imperfect, dumb, pitiful, in the eyes of The Man and they were beautiful. Gently, he pushed them outside, into the dust.
Choking on soot, The Clothed Man pressed the indentations on Adam and then Eve. He watched with tear-filled eyes as the last hope for His world flew away, breaking a trail of blue through the dirty sky. They would soar until they found a second chance, a chance for something better. The Man closed his eyes.
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This was my first attempt at a prompt here, would definitely appreciate feedback!
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[ WP ] The last mage cast a spell that would temporarily end magic . Thousands of years later , March 2015 , magic has been restored .
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'... I wish I had a beer here in this shower,' I thought to myself.
A bottle of ale fell upon my foot, unopened. Seconds passed, as I stared, completely dumbfounded, while water kept cascading down my back and flank, over the cold beverage now rolling slowly towards the centre of the shower floor.
I picked it up. Despite the brand always having a pop top lid, this one thankfully had a screw top on it. My heart started rushing to the roof of my mouth, as I opened the bottle and sucked down the sweet, flowery ale, embracing its cool mouthfeel, juxtaposed against the warm waves of water upon my body.
Now I had my wish, my mind kicked into overdrive. Did I just wish something into existence?! There was no other way that would have happened; I was alone in the house, and no-one had been there all day.
I took a breath. Fuck it, let's see what happens if I try something else.
I turned around to the shower head; opening my hand flat towards it, I thought of ice. Slowly, the water went through lukewarm, to cold, then icy, as the head progressively froze into an ice block. I quickly turned the tap to stop any more water flowing.
`` What have I just done...'' I said aloud. No way! I have powers, like magic!
At this point, I had no time to waste. Whipping around to summon my towel from the rack, I planned out my next moves.
Oz had been ripe for the picking, and starting today, it would be all mine.
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[ WP ] All of the nations of the world are teenagers at a house party . Both of the `` Korea '' sisters show up .
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`` Most of the cliques have kinda dissolved honestly.'' yells the UK over the music as he shows me around. `` And all those giant'clique wars' that the news talks about do n't happen much anymore since America figured out how to use Dirty Secret bombs against everyone. Japan learned *that* one the hard way. She keeps to herself now. Usually her nose is stuck in some gadget.'' We move through the Balkans who are crowding the bar and seem to be arguing about something that only they understand. `` Anyway, after America started dropping bombs Russia quickly started gathering dirt on people. He puts something in that vodka of his. That set off the Cold Shoulder. Which is where Russia and his buddies would n't talk to America and *his* buddies. Everyone else was just too awkward to say anything about it.''
As we grab a drink and head outside Spain and Greece are pestering Germany for money. `` Bloody typical.'' says the UK. `` Where are those Spanish guys you were talking about?'' I ask. `` You mean the South Americans? They're all playing Footy at Brazil's house along with Netherlands, Belgium and France.'' We walk past Australia who is doing body shots off New Zealand. `` Do n't you like playing footy too?'' `` I was there earlier. I left early. They all cheat.'' said the UK bitterly.
We finally get outside and look about. `` Oh. There is the US getting between Israel and Palestine again. America's annoying cousin is there too. Canada just tries too hard. They're getting worse than... oh fuck.'' There is yelling at the front door. China is quickly moving towards the commotion looking embarrassed. South Korea looks away from Spain who is hitting on her. Her eyes widen with sudden fear and understanding as she rushes to the front door. `` What is it?'' I ask. `` South Korea's sister just showed up.'' I was a new kid and I knew who her sister was. `` You're joking.'' I said hopefully. `` I sincerely wish I was. Like honestly. Who the fuck invited that bag of crazy?'' replied the UK. `` Is n't China still kind of friends with her?'' The music inside has stopped and the yelling is getting more prominent. America walks over to us, Canada in tow. `` You think they need my help in there?'' he asked us. `` No. Stay outside and have a drink with us. Let China deal with it.'' suggests the UK. `` You're probably right. Canada?'' `` Yeah?!'' she says finally being noticed. `` Grab me a beer.'' `` Got it.'' she says dejectedly.
We follow America inside to find South Korea and North Korea rolling on the floor fingers in each other's hair. Japan is video taping the whole thing. `` Probably to post to that blog that no one looks at but everyone talks about.'' comments the UK to no one in particular. China is trying to give North Korea another drink. America is stepping between them saying `` Now ladies let me tell you why you're both wrong.'' Canada is rushing forward `` Here America. I brought the watery beer. I assumed it was yours.'' North Korea grabs the can China is offering, winds up and yells `` North Korea is best Korea!''. She lets fly.
I feel a sharp pain and as I go down I hear a roar as the whole room starts going at it. `` Fucking politics.'' I mutter to myself and everything goes black.
**first try so any feedback appreciated: ) **
EDIT: verb tenses
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[ WP ] A suicidal time-traveller decides to put the Grandfather Paradox to the test - with unexpected results .
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His whole life who knew something was different. Things sort of just happened to go his way. Until recently, he had never even stubbed his toe. Pretty remarkable in every sense of the word. That was until recently.
All of sudden life became remarkably different, in every sense of the word.
As he was leaving the old book shop on 4th street, he stopped in front the drug store, he gazed at his reflection in the mirrored glass. His glasses slightly crooked, his brow full of sweat. He tried to tidy him self and as he shifted, his reflection disappeared for a second.
Instantly it was back.
He stood there, pale, not wanting to move. `` What...'' he mumbled under his breath, gazing deeper into his own reflection. `` No. No way.'' He looked down at the books he was holding. He opened the old, leather bound book on top, gazed and the inscription, slammed the cover, and started to run. He ran as if being chased. Looking back at the seemingly innocuous world around him.
`` No. This was n't supposed to happen. How is the happening!'' He yelled, while running to 11th St, before ducking into a warm brownstone apartment, slamming the door shut, and causing the whole frame to shake violently.
He appeared before a small desk, with a mirror slightly above. Afraid to look and with a full arm swing, cleared the desk of all the items, save an old kerosene lamp. He threw the books on the table and starting fumbling through the pages. With each page turn, it became more and more difficult for him to turn the pages.
`` There it is!'' He exclaimed. He started running through the passage in his head, the handwritten book resembled an old, personal journal. He kept reading, now, slowing down, and becoming louder, `` I had to see if this works... Neville is the only one who knows, he knows what to do...'' the reading turned quite as sweat dripped down the pages. He rubbed his eyes, paused, and read aloud, `` I have calibrated the date to March 6'', he looked up, for a calendar, not seeing one in sight, he gazed at his watch, ``... March 6''.
Frantically he kept reading aloud, ``... yada yada, set the variance to 11, the rad ( What the hell is that he thought ) to 6.4, and finally the adjustable sphere density to 197''.
He dog-eared the page, ran down the steep stairs in the basement. Where a machine was standing. It was about the size of phone booth. It had intricately carved symbols, that seemed a bit out of place. But he had no time to think. He started to adjust the variance to 11, the rad to 6.4, and adjustable sphere density to 197.
He slammed his hand on what he looked like the only'activate' button and waited. He tucked the book under his arm and cupped his family jewels, cause why not.
Nothing happened.
He tried to press the button again.
Nothing happened.
He kept trying to hit the button, when on his last effort he flew forward and through the ornately carved post, dropping the old journal he has been holding in his arm pit.
He finally realized what was happening.
He looked at his hands, they were fading. Fading away. As the sheer terror of what was happening over took him, he had a moment of serene calm. There, next to the fading remains of his feet, the book he was holding. It landed on the first page, what he had glanced at earlier. He was out of time. He read the inscription again.
`` He was wrong. I am sorry.'' -Neville.
“ Remarkable ”, he uttered.
In every sense of the word.
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[ WP ] Earth is doomed . When and how it will end is widely known . You decide to spend your final moments in an unusual way .
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I stepped outside my door and glared at the sky. The smell of smoke and the sound of screams polluted the air. Looters and normal people alike trying to live the rest of their days on their own terms. Some merely trying to finish their bucket lists, others driven mad by the impending doom. I scanned the cloudless sky trying to find it in the distance, ignoring the hell being raised around me. Finally, I saw it. Not much larger than a grape I thought as I stared at it in the sky.
`` It'' was an asteroid. Spotted late by NASA, and found to be on a direct collision course with our little cozy planet. They had estimated 6 months, but it was here in 5. Obelisk they named it. A fitting name. The news had been abuzz about it for all these 5 months, and every attempt to stop it amounted to nothing more than a waste of good time. I watched for a minute as it grew larger in the sky pondering if I was content with this end to my life of 23 years. I came to an astounding `` meh''. I would n't be around to worry about it anyways now would I? With that thought finally vanishing in my mind, I reached into my pocket to grab one final `` Coffin Nail'' as my mother always used to call them. I stuffed the cigarette into my mouth, lit the tip and stepped inside.
As I flopped on my couch ignoring the impending doom, I took a drag on my `` nail'' and stared at the clock. 8:55 A.M. Always hated mornings I thought to myself with a cringe. Especially Mondays, and this Monday was no exception. I picked up the controller, unpausing the game I had started not to long ago and the dialogue started to roll through the speakers. `` You know a lot about science, but you do n't know how good a cigarette tastes in the morning'' I laughed out loud for what I would assume was my final time with a smirk on my face. Kudos Snake I thought as I smiled and continued my game, my final moments being nothing more than a fading thought.
As the glass exploded from the frames and searing heat bathed my body, I closed my eyes and Pondered one last thought. Why did n't the real world have save points?
Thanks for reading! This was my first time doing one of these, so any advice is welcome!
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[ IP ] Colossal deep space creature
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I know what I saw.
I know what I saw. I tell myself this over and over again. I know what I saw. I know what I saw. I know what I saw. It is n't getting any easier.
My ship has eight types of monitor systems. Thirty miles of haptic neuro-sensors. Cap AI data compressor. Three kinds of soft-plastic nanometrics not available on the commercial market. And the only reason I know it was there is because I glanced out the window.
It's like that time I had that dream about the circus. It was n't different from any other dream I'd ever had, all except the Elephant King. I was a kid, and I was walking through endless corridors, through hidden doorways, out through windows, and always under the same red canopy. I would have forgotten this dream, except there was one room like a main ring surrounded by bleacher seats. I know what I saw. It smelled like a barn, I remember that. And standing in the middle of the ring was the Elephant King. Enormous in size reaching all the way to the top of the canopy, this muscular giant with arms like a body builder and an enormous belly, and the colossal head of an elephant wearing jewels and necklaces and brilliant ivory tusks with golden filigree.
I know what I saw. I know what I saw. The Elephant King stared at me, never moving a muscle, not even a twitch, not even to breathe, but it was watching me. I felt a pervasive fear, an immediate need to run as fast as I can, and I woke myself up. Years later I remember every detail of the Elephant King, and it still scares me like Hell.
The data comp is ready, but it does n't help. Metrics recorded nothing. No gravity well. No blip on the prox monitors. Cap registered nothing unusual. I go to the tape and there's nothing. I know that I know what I saw.
The thing I saw out the porthole window? It was the Elephant King all over again. I felt the same panic. My hands clenched into fists so tight like I was hanging on to the edge of a cliff and trying not to fall. I stopped breathing and struggled to get the air back in. I know what I saw. I know what I saw. I wanted to run, to get back to the mission deck and throw the ship in reverse and get the hell out of there.
I know what I.... I mean... I do n't know what I saw. I do n't know, that's the thing that's crazy. I know I *saw* It, whatever it was, but I do n't know what I saw.
I do n't know how to describe it, but the horrible thing is recorded perfectly in my mind's eye. It had to be the size of Eros. Easily. Maybe bigger. And it was *moving* like a solid body would n't. Stretching. Reaching out for something with what looked like parts of a... I mean...
I mean I know what I saw, and I'd like to wake up now. Please. Please let me wake up now.
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[ WP ] Start with the dialogue , '' What ... What happened to you ? ''
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`` What... what happened to you?''
I could only cower in fear as I slowly realized my killer's identity. The lines on his face became clearer, the green in his eyes shone brighter, and his black hair shone brilliantly. `` Nothing happened, I've always been this way'', he said as he raised the gun.
`` Please spare me! I have money if that's what you're after! ``, I cried out in terror.
`` Still senseless as always, ca n't you tell that's not what I'm after? ``, he said aiming his pistol.
Sobbing I stammer out, `` Please... spare me! I do n't want to die yet! I'll do anything you ask of me, anything!'' I fall to the ground and begin to kiss his feet, hoping to appease him.
`` Get off me you idiot, you have nothing I want asides from being dead'', he said gripping the pistol, getting ready to shoot me.
I do n't know what's coming over me. I refuse to die today. I refuse to give up in the face of death. I stumble to my knees and start running. I run as fast as my feet can take me and ignore the pounding in my chest and head.
`` Idiot'', he said to himself. The silence is finally broken by a gunshot. Then it is quiet once more.
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[ WP ] A nightclub in 2035 is hosting `` 2010 's night '' .
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`` You. Make. Me. Feel like I'm living a-''
'Teen. Age. Dream,' I thought to myself, finishing the line in my head as Katy Perry harmonized over the speakers. This song was n't really 25 years old, was it? I'm getting old.
I navigated the dark club occasionally punctuated by piercing strobes, careful not to let a drop spill from the overpriced drink I'd just wasted a few hours worth of my work week on. I made it back to the table where my friends sat. It was just a few former college roommates reunited and out for the night; the boys were back in town. No girlfriends or wives allowed.
`` Jesus, Chris, did you have to go for the gayest drinks at the bar?'' quipped Ryan as he reached for his piña colada.
`` Calm down with that, man,'' I said laughing, `` That was n't even PC in college.'' I took a sip of beer; no liquor for me tonight, since I did n't want to repeat the puking stories of college. It was only the 2010s in music and stupid dress.
`` Dude. This song.'' Kyle was laughing as the beginning what-what's of `` Thrift Shop'' blared over the sound system.
`` Maybe they'll play'Harlem Shake' next, huh? We all liked that one,'' I said grinning; Ryan made a face as though I'd brought up a particularly annoying ex-girlfriend.
`` So how's everyone been? Anyone heard from Andy lately?''
`` I talked to him the other day,'' said Ryan. `` It's pretty hard finding time that works, what with the Indonesian time difference and all.''
`` True story,'' I said. `` How's the missus, Kyle?''
`` Great as always, yours?''
Before I could respond the same way, a familiar voice floated out of my past and into my ear:
`` THAT WHO I THINK IT IS OVER THERE? BUNCHA LIL BITCHES!''
I knew that voice anywhere; sure enough, my college buddy Max was bounding over to me with a smile I has n't seen since the Obama administration.
`` Scallop! How the hell are ya?'' Ryan jumped up to greet our old friend. `` Scallop'' looked as though he'd walked out of a time machine; his ears were stretched thin with gauges, and he wore a bucket hat with matching skinny jeans. His shirt, proudly declaring `` Every Day I'm Shuffling'' was wonderfully kitsch. Save for a few grey hairs, it was as though we were back on campus. Well, we were - it had just been a long time since we attended.
As the bombast of `` Black & Yellow'' faded out of the speakers, a DJ who had perhaps been born around the time of the song announced a `` special hashtag-throw-back-Thursday for all you MySpace babies.'' Seconds later, we were all on the dance floor. Those immortal lyrics about yellow diamonds in the light commanded us to celebrate, for we had found love in a hopeless place.
I left my friends dancing a few songs in for a trip to the water fountain. As I headed off of the floor, I found myself singing along to the next song on and pausing to survey the scene I'd once seen almost two decades ago:
`` Give me a second, I, I need to get my story straight. My friends are in the bathroom getting higher than the Empire State...''
Every millennial in the room sang along, and a smile crept to my lips. This was all so familiar, like a living slice of the golden days.
I chuckled to myself as I registered that thought. The golden days? That's what old folks say, is n't it?
But I am an old folk. I'm nearing the halfway point of my life; the days when I'd wear thick rimmed glasses and skinny jeans while puffing on an electronic cigarette were long gone by. It's been some time since Ke $ ha dominated the charts, and I'd be willing to bet that nobody under 30 even remembers `` Gangnam Style''. But we did.
In that moment, I finally understood what the men who'd gone before me meant by `` The Good Old Days''. Sure, the memories may be rose coated, but they resonate as though they were yesterday. And though that world of retweets and hipsters, of snapchats and Flappy Bird, had long since yielded to the winds of time, it felt more home to me than the one I'd be retiring to later tonight.
Nostalgia is a funny thing. They say you never know what you've got til it's gone, but I'd like to clarify that a little. I'd say: you never know how much you'll miss it til your youth becomes your `` Good Old Days''.
`` Toni-i-iiiight... We are young...
So let's set the world on fire,
We can burn brighter
Than the suuun...''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
DISCLAIMER: I am currently 20. This is my perspective from 2035, or at least I think it'll be like that. This will be interesting to look back on when we get there haha.
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[ WP ] Mankind invents FTL travel and finally discovers intelligent extraterrestrial life . But when they arrive , they find out that the race is not yet advanced enough to understand space travel . Humans are accepted as gods .
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This has already happened from another perspective. Not mentioning our ancient history, but I believe it was in the 1950's we flew to a remote village in Africa or South America and the indigenous people had never seen an aircraft or Caucasian people. The white people brought food and water as gifts ( and probably disease, destruction and chaos, per usual, but that's beside the point ). The began to worship the `` gods'' who came from the sky and built a replica plane out of straw as a symbol of the gods. They started continued to worship them after they left in an attempt to bring them back. I'm sure we told them something about our `` return'' as well. I wish people would acknowledge this post and implement a new investigation of our human origin, because in the broadest sense, it happened in a very similar fashion.
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[ WP ] Today I had my third close encounter with death , but this time I was expecting it .
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'no.' i said sternly.
The figure halted'aw, cmon, please' they begged.
'this is the third time this week, im not dying'
Death stood to his full height of over 7 feet, once I saw it to be threatening, but with the amount of times he'd come, Id gotten over it.'honestly is n't there better things for you to do?' i asked'not really' he said, sagging his shoulders,'famines really cutting my grass nowadays, what with all the third world countries getting... third world-ier and all that.' He said as he ran his long white fingers along his scythe.'i miss the days when people died from blood loss, bullets to the head, and being completely blown to bits.' I grunted in acknowledgement, growing accustom to the stories he'd tell.'i guess' he continued'I guess I just miss all the wars, all that bloodshed, all that' he paused as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath'... death' he said in a deep growl, as if he were empowered by the word itself.'you're a sadistic fuck, you know that' I said bluntly, he recoiled.'Im death, its part of my makeup, and speaking of makeup, will you just die?' he prodded me with his finger.'for the last time, Ive got a life and I like it, I'm not going anywhere so leave me alone''you know what you are?' he said, i looked at him unimpressed.'youre one of those `` optimists'' i hear about' he looked my staright in the eye'I hate optimists, so in my greatest jest, I send you my farewells and a big royal fuck you, because when you die, Im not reaping you'.'good' I replied.'and when i go out, Im going to starve myself'. He straightened again and stuck up his middle finger'hey fuck you dude', and with that he was gone, and i turned towards the hospital where I worked, I might end up seeing him today after all, i thought
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[ WP ] You just found a door that should not be there . Everyone else seems to be oblivious of its existence . Or so it appears .
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Emma sat across from Old Mother White at the smallest, ricketiest table in the house. Her two aunts flanked her, their bony knees knocking against the table. Emma sat with her arms wrapped around her legs, her apple-red hair barely cresting over the table.
She was shivering with excitement.
The women were chatting, mixing in generous scoops of sugar into tinkling cups, and Emma kept her ears pricked for the slightest mention of measurements.
`` Well, yes, I do believe that would make an excellent remedy for blue-tongue. I use leaf of hogshoof for that.''
Old Mother White shook her shaggy head, `` No, no, you young'ins and your blasted new recipes. Stick with the old ways, I say. Toad's eye, and leg of lamb.
Last year, Emma's older sister, Angele, was invited to sit with her dear old aunts and Old Mother, to be measured. Neither Emma nor her older sister knew exactly *what* the Elders were measuring, but they knew it was important.
Angele lorded her invitation over Emma for *weeks*. But when Angele came back from that fateful afternoon tea, Emma could n't get a word out of her. She eventually discovered that, whatever they were measuring, Angele did not have enough of.
`` But toad's eye is too well known, too tried. Anyone can get it. How are we supposed to sell-''
That's when the door appeared. One minute, Emma was straining to see over the table, and the next, there was a gigantic door standing right behind Old Mother.
`` Erm,'' she squeaked.
The door was a rich Mahogany. Its hinges sat in the middle of the air, connected to nothing. None of the others appeared to notice it.
`` You sell it how you've always sold it, deary: with a sense of magic, and wonder. A little purple powder goes a long way, you know.''
`` Oh, Mother, you and your powders. I say, if-''
The door began to creak. If she squinted hard enough, she thought she could see it moving.
`` Erm, -'' she tried again.
`` Why just last week, one of the locals said he thought my remedies were old wives' tales! He thought his daughter needed a *doctor*, can you believe that?''
A hearty round of cackles skipped over Emma's head. She was too busy watching the door.
Yes, it was definitely swinging open, painfully slow, as if it was made of heavy stone, and not wood. The old women were still absorbed in their talk of this and that.
A slender, silvery, *sharp* claw slide out from behind the door.
Emma shrieked, `` Old Mother! Watch out!''
The claw froze in mid-air. All eyes turned on Emma.
`` Yes, deary?'' there was a sweet, matronly smile on Old Mother's lips, and a gentle fire in her eyes, `` Did you say something?''
`` Th-there's a d-door,'' she stammered.
`` What kind of door, deary?''
`` It's wooden. Big, and heavy, and brown and just look-'' Emma stabbed a finger at the door.
Old Mother White's smile broadened at this, revealing a set of very few, and very not-white teeth, `` You can come out now, Sable.''
A grotesque monster of a man, with fingernails as long as forearms stepped out from behind the door. Emma held back a scream.
`` Alright, Mum,'' the monster/man nodded at Old Mother White, `` Ladies,'' he winked at the Aunts, who tittered giddily. He speared a biscuit with one claw, and walked right out the front door.
`` Wha-wha-wha-'' Emma's vocal cords decided to stop cooperating with her.
`` Well, congratulations, deary,'' Old Mother White looked pleased, very pleased indeed. She turned to the two Aunts, `` What do you say, daughters? I think she measured very well, would n't you agree?''
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[ WP ] You 're a man who 's tired of his life , so one day , while driving home from work , instead of stopping at your house , you just decided to keep driving .
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`` 4:50....''
You Re-stack the papers on desk.
`` 4:52... it's only been two minutes?''
You Go to the restroom, which is actually a good idea since there is not convenient stop on the way home.
`` 4:57... three more. Three more.''
You grasp your keys and bag tight in left hand. Right hand positions cursor over Shut Down.
`` Come on, dammit!''
Clock changes to 5:00.
`` Finally!''
It takes ten minutes to advance through the line of cars to the main road. Everyone else in the building decided to get the hell out of there precisely at 5:00 instead of staggering around chit-chatting. Why today?
The beige, battered Honda Accord with the'I Love My Daschund'' decal in front of you is turning left, like you do every day. You curse the driver in your mind for missong that gap. You could've taken it, if only you were there instead of next.
``... like the one I had in high school... was it a 95 or 96?..hated that car...''
You hear your dad's voice lecturing, `` If you just do the maintenance, this car should last you twenty years!''
`` Yeah, dad, well it's twenty years later. I took it for oil changes and then that asshole t-boned me and totaled it. Ca n't drive it now, can I?''
The driver of the Accord misses another gap.
`` Goddamn, is it really that hard? Fuck this. I need to get out of here.''
You whip your car to the right of the Accord. You look to the left to oncoming traffic, and notice the driver of the Accord.
`` Well, no shit, it's Jody. She ca n't be bothered to send the notes on that meeting, how can she be bothered to let people OUT OF THE GODDAMN PARKING LOT. SO THEY CAN GET HOME. JODY!''
You turn right, opposite of your familiar route. It goes west. You overheard Rick and Danny talk about some new shops they built out there.
`` An open-air outlet mall? Maybe. Nah, people like Jody go to places like that. I wonder what's out highway 10... that pond I fished at that one time. I think it's out there? Wonder if it's still stocked... maybe I'll go in the morning early before it gets too hot. I forgot which road you turn down.''
The strip malls, big box retailers and chain restaurants clumped together in that part of town less and less and the subdivisions of cheaply built houses become more and more.
`` How can anyone like living in those neighborhoods... no trees... houses look the same... boring. I bet Jody lives in one of those houses... her kitchen decorated in roosters... her little dachshund pissing all over the treeless, sodded yard, with that one sad, scraggly bush... watching Dancing with the Stars and waiting for her husband to come home from'working late'... how fucking sad. She can never just drive. She's always going the same way every day and it never changes.''
Every day the traffic reporter's segment between the political commentary of the local talk radio show mentions a slowdown at the merge of the highway going toward your apartment, and a wreck at least once a week. Even after the months of construction to make it wider, people are still stupid and do n't know how to let merging traffic into the flow. Idiots.
You realize you go home every day. The same route each time because you can predict the traffic patterns better than the highway. You noticed when that one house just before your second turn got new siding. Sometimes you see the little old man on his riding lawn mower checking his mail box.
`` He sure has a nice yard. I want to mow a yard. Shit. I hate that apartment.''
You drive about ten more minutes and enter the countryside. County Maintenance Begins. McMansions tucked away in clearings. The pond is close now.
`` Man this is nice. I could live out here.''
You pull over on a gravel road and stop your car. The bean field is lush and the breeze blows your face. You lean on the hood and look out toward the quiet combine and setting sun.
`` Man, I wish I had my telescope in my car. I bet the stars are awesome out here. I wonder how much a farmer makes? Fishing... I could go fishing. Whenever I wanted.''
The stars are starting to twinkle. More than you usually see at this time in the evening. You never really know when the sun actually sets because of all the lights from town.
You stretch out on the hood, ignoring the mosquitos. You laugh a little at the thought of Jody wrapping up her husband's food and setting it in the fridge for when he gets home.
`` I wonder if she ever just sat and looked at the stars with her husband? Hell, she's like fifty... sad.''
In the distance, headlights slowly flare then disappear. You wonder if you could get away with the same clothes at work tomorrow.
`` Lori has some of that wrinkle releaser... I shaved this morning... my breath?... hell, I'm going to sleep in my car out here. I do n't have anyone at home waiting on me with cold dinner.''
In the distance you hear dog barks. It sounds like two, maybe three. You wonder if they are wild dogs or in someone's back yard.
`` Probably some country dogs tied up to a tree. Poor things... how can someone be so cruel to a dog and keep them tied up outside and forget them? I'd never do that to Harley... the little shit... chewed the arm of the leather chair. That chair was $ 500! Must have been jealous I went on that date without him... he's just a puppy still..he could n't go with us. Man she was smokin... dumb... glad she did n't call me back... I feel bad enough he's stuck in the apartment all d -- -FUCK! I HAVE A DOG!''
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[ WP ] A hero confronts the villain in a final showdown , only to find out that their roles have been reversed the entire time .
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Rob drew his sword and ran into Ezra's chamber.
*Just one more thing to take care of and this is over. This entire bloody war. *
He skidded to a halt as he looked inside. The man in front of him was nothing like he had pictured. He'd been expecting an angry, vicious man- a man worthy of the reputation that surrounded him. A face that could enslave nations, separate families and raise an army the likes the world had neither seen nor needed.
Instead he found a tired old man frantically writing at a desk. The man did n't look up even as Rob descended on him.
`` Are you Ezra?'' Rob asked, his voice more questioning now then angry.
`` I am called that, and you must be Rob, the great hero that's doomed us all.'' The man said, as he frantically wrote line after line, even now not sparing Rob a glance.
The ink stains from his writing splashed onto Rob, who slowly grew more agitated. Grasping his sword tightly, Rob kicked the table, causing Ezra to fly out of his chair and land roughly on the ground.
`` HOW CAN YOU BE WRITING AT A TIME LIKE THIS?! I HAVE STOPPED YOUR RULE, I HAVE COME TO END YOUR EMPIRE. YOUR DAYS OF TERRORIZING THE WORLD ARE AT AN END. FACE ME!''
Ezra looked up at him, his eyes filling with rage as he saw his papers fall to the ground.
`` You will not move.'' Ezra spoke in a quiet voice, but it stopped Rob in his tracks. There was a powerful weight behind his words, a force that allowed no room for disobedience.
Ezra stood up and spoke `` Your actions may have single-handedly wiped out all humans on this planet. And I do not have the time to tell you why. Soon, I will be taken by you or your men, soon, I will die. My actions demand nothing less. But there was only necessasity that pushed my hands to this point. You may think me mad, you may think me evil- but there was no other way. I would n't believe the Threat existed either, but it is coming, and I needed humanity ready to face it. I made a mistake in preparing, I left you alone.''
`` What Threat? What are you tal-''
Ezra's eyes narrowed on him, a strange light lit his eyes and again Rob fell silent.
`` There is no time fool. There is something worse than me coming to this world. Something that we had been warned about for thousands and thousands of years. I've inadvertently thrown us into a war that humans can not hope to win as we where. My life has been spent trying to bring together humanity long enough to face this threat.'' Ezra paced around the small room, growing more agitated with every step.
`` Years and years of work, building a nation, sacrificing my morals one at a time in order to do what must be done. Easier to rule with a fist and have guaranteed obedience then risk losing everything because everyone thinks I'm crazy. AND IT WAS WORKING. Then your'Guardians' come along and ruin everything.
On that desk are my notes of everything we can do from this point forward to fix things, but you must get started now! There is no time!''
Rob stared at Ezra incredously, `` You ca n't honestly expect me to believe any of this.'' He stepped forward again, `` This... this is n't some play in which you get out of this by making up a fancy story. You enslaved nation after nation in order to build an army against a threat no one else noticed? One that we've been warned about for eons? And you're the only one? You expect me to believe that? That's a load of bullshit. Old man, you will not escape judgement.''
Ezra looked at him one more time, his rage gone. Slowly, he moved towards Rob, spreading his hands to the side in an open gesture. He stopped in front of Rob. Grabbing the naked sword with both his hands, Ezra thurst himself onto the blade.
Frozen by shock and anger, Rob could only watch as Ezra's blood began pouring out of his body. `` WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!''
Ezra laughed, each shake of his body causing more and more blood to spray out. `` Indeed... what am I doing. Perhaps I'm having a petty revenge on you before I go. My failure, my losses, I pass onto you. In the days ahead, you will experience true despair, as you learn what your little victory cost you. When that times comes, come to this room and read.''
`` I do n't understand! What are you rambling about?! Are you really Ezra, what do you mean?! WHAT THREAT? Answer me old man!''
It was like this that the rest of Rob's Guardians found him when they ran into the room. Holding the bleeding body of Ezra and frantically yelling.
************************
In the days and months to come, as entire cities burned and hell rained down from the skies. Rob would come back to that room often. He would sit at the desk Ezra worked at, and search through the notes Ezra had left him, had left humanity. And so, it was with growing terror that Rob learnt the story of Ezra, the story of a man who had called out a challenge to the heavens.
Unfortunately for humanity, that challenge had been answered.
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[ WP ] A fortune teller has a crystal ball that only sees the past , but shows it with 100 % clarity .
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The man shuffled in and sat across the table from the fortune teller. He ran his hand through his unwashed hair and stared at his feet. After a minute of sitting, still and silent, he gazed around the tiny room. He observed the circus posters lining the wall and deep purple curtains, before fixing his gaze on the crystal ball in the centre of the round table. He glanced up at the teller, and spoke haltingly;
“ I... I called earlier. About... ”
“ I remember, Adam ” the teller interjected gently. The teller leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table and locked his eyes intently on Adam ’ s. Adam looked away and back again intermittently, occasionally flicking to the scar on the teller ’ s cheek, but the teller ’ s eyes never strayed.
“ I need to ask you, Adam. If you understand what I do, and whether you truly understand the implications. And once I ’ m satisfied with your answers, there remains one last question. Do you really want to go through with it. ”
“ You tell the past. How it was, how it really was. And you can answer any question I need to know. ”
“ Yes Adam, that is what I do. And I know what question you want to ask. Now why do you need this answer so desperately? ”
“ I need to know if she loved me, truly loved me. ”
“ Will it bring her back? ” the teller cocked his head slightly to one side, but never let his eyes leave Adam ’ s. Adam was becoming agitated; the unwavering eye contact, the questions, this wasn ’ t how he expected it to go.
“ Do you want my business or not? ” he demanded, clenching both fists in his lap. The teller remained passive and replied softly;
“ Of course I do. But I also do not wish to be blamed for giving you the answer to a question you should never have asked. So I ask again, will it bring her back? And if not, what hope can my answer give you? ”
“ I was going to ask her, God-Dammit! ” Adam trembled as he spoke, “ If she had made it there, I was going to ask her to marry me. And I would have known. I need to know, would she have said yes? ” His voice had turned from anger to pleading; tears welled up in his eyes.
The teller took a long, deep breath in and out. At this moment he hated his gift. Because he knew how this ended. The crystal ball was just for show, he had learned the answer to Adam's question from his eyes. There was no answer to ease Adam ’ s mind, to appease his anger. And so he would have to refuse, and endure the violence. There was always violence. He stroked the long scar running across his right cheek. That had been courtesy of a widow ’ s engagement ring after she had learned posthumously of her husband ’ s infidelity throughout their marriage. Black eyes, broken noses, he had had them all. And sizing up Adam, over six foot and strongly built, he knew this one would hurt. He couldn ’ t tell the future, but he could predict people ’ s reactions. And Adam was only going to react one way. The teller tensed his body and let out an exasperated sigh.
“ Adam, I ’ m sorry but I will not answer your question. ”
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[ WP ] You look at the stars . They look back at you .
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I stepped out of the cabin. Out of the noise, laughs, and smokey air; and into the fresh summer night. Grass leaves caressed the soles of my bare feet as I slowly walked towards the lake.
The night was quiet and peaceful here, far from any city. The lake was a perfect mirror, reflecting the stars in the deep blue sky, and the pine trees along its shoreline. The only noises were those of insects chirping, and the muffled laughs coming from my friends still in the cabin.
A smooth gust of wind surrounded me, carrying the scents of forest and dirt. I could hear the soft sound of air moving through the branches and leaves. Slowly, I raised my gaze and looked up into the starry sky.
Living in the city, it was hard to remember there were so many of them. So many bright dots. The whole sky was covered in stars. I tried to recognize some of the constellations I had heard of: Ursa Minor, Aries, Orion... I used to be able to identify most of them, back when I was a kid.
One of the dots seemed different. Brighter, perhaps. I focused on it, squinting, trying to figure out whether it was a planet or a star. It's light was somehow different, but I was n't sure why.
Something in the back of my mind called my attention. There was something odd. I realized I could no longer hear any of the insects, any of the laughs. It was as if a black hole had swallowed all sound. The forest was silent. Awaiting. As if every creature but me was aware of some hidden menace.
My knees locked, and a chill went down my spine. My gaze was still fixated on the bright dot. I felt like a deer caught in its light. I could n't move, not anymore. Fear had paralyzed me. I tried to compel my body to react, to run, to get me back to the safety of the cabin, but it would n't listen.
The star *twinkled*.
The forest was still there, but I forgot about it. The star filled every corner of my mind. The hundreds of light years separating me from its eerie, bright light contracted into nothing, until I was alone and naked in the void, facing it. I felt its monstrous, indifferent gaze turn on to me. There was no place to run, no place to hide. I felt like an insect under the magnifying glass of a nightmarish giant, who could crush me with its very thought.
One by one, the other stars sparked back to life, their light shining ever brighter. One by one, they turned to look at me. As I fell on my knees, unable to breath under the glare of a million evil suns, I realized what I had just done.
For eons they had slept in the sky. Ignoring us. Letting us be.
But not anymore. I had done the unthinkable. I had awoken the gods.
And now, *they were coming. *
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[ WP ] Awoken by a weight on your chest , a crow cautiously stares and studies you . Looking about you , the marsh-like clearing seemed unrecognizable . In fact , you had no recollection of what occurred previously to waking up in the muddy grass .
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`` Caw''
The noise rattles around my head for a second or five. With slow painful moment I peel my eyes open to see a large crow on my chest, staring at me.
`` Fuck off''
I wave the bird off, he hops to one side and continues to stare at me.
Above me, a dim blue sky with fat grey clouds. I roll my head to the side and notice the squish, like a big sponge under my head.
I heave myself up onto my elbows, and view my surroundings.
`` Urgh. Why am I on a... marsh?''
I heave myself up onto my feet, and check myself for the key things in life.
Keys, missing.
Wallet, missing. Do have couple pound coins though.
Watch, missing. Still the mark of it around my wrist, so ca n't be far.
Phone, missing.
I yawn and stretch, squinting my eyes at the horizon. Nothing much but a few twisted trees, low stone wall, and a figure off in the distance.
I squelch my way across the marsh towards the figure. The crow still watching my, hopping behind me.
I try to run over the events of last night;
`` Went pub with Jim. Got a kebab. Smoked. Went to the off license, then... urgh'' I grumbled out loud to no one but myself and maybe the crow.
As I got closer to the figure I noticed they stood on a dock of a large lake, lost in the gloom and sogginess of the marsh. A small wooden boat, with peeling paint, bobbed in the water.
`` Excuse me mate?'' #, I said in my least hungover manner.
`` You mind telling me where I am, or how to get back to home?''
Without turning, the figure spoke.
`` Long way from home here. I can get you somewhere, if you got a few coins''
I dug around in my pocket, finding the two pounds I had.
`` Got a couple quid, if you can give me a lift. Hell, I do n't expect home, just not here. Somewhere with people... well, more people. And an off license''.
He held out his hand.
`` Just jump in the boat, and we'll get going'' they said. Still not moving from their position.
`` Aye. Sure. Lets just get going''
And that was the first day of my eternity in the afterlife.
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[ IP ] Part time devil .
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Today is Thursday. Day three of this new fry cook, bus boy job, not counting Tuesday. Tuesday I took a vacation.
Today I'm wiping tables. I mean, I'm doing all the normal stuff too but I'm *especially* wiping tables. These tables look *good*. Especially considering the scrubbing mater is brown and the sponge looks like rotty swiss cheese.
I am grinding my way through Arby's. Giving a new shine to things I did n't even know could shine. Oh yeah. Like, this table that I'm working on now, I think the literal varnish is coming off the wood. Just enough scraped off to feel smug about my own strength but also enough still clinging on for me too see my own grinning face, which, unfortunately for all my peers, only amplifies my smugness. I'm wearing the restaurant visor thing. It's so cheeky. I love it. Like there's no sun. What do I need a visor for? Protection against my freshly polished windows' gleam? Possibly.
No, I think they just needed a piece of cloth to extend the uniforms upwards. Just to say `` not only do we own your torso, we got your head too! Suckaaas!'' That's fine by me Mr. Arby. *I've* got your *soul*. And what a patchy, vulnerable thing it is. It squirms when I poke it. Too many advantages taken of. Too much corruption and greed and sin in you. And we all know how that manifests. It makes the soul weak. It makes sour brains and guts a slime-slug-ball conglomerate. All wiggly and sad like the cheesy insides of those store-bought, oven-cooked pizza logs. Arby's should totally sell those.
Regardless. You done messed up. Sinned once too much. And the deal allowing your success has run pretty evenly with your Earthly life. Now it's time for Brain to come back with me to Hell. And your soul goes right in my little bedazzled soul box. Just like we agreed on twenty years ago when a poor man with a stronger resolve once shook my hand and asked for help.
Thing is, I do n't really want it anymore. It kind of bums me out. Like sure, I'll do God a solid and keep you out of Heaven. You hang with me. But I'm liking your counter-offer so far. Your franchise just may be an even trade. Just enough of a prize to give you the slug soul back. Though I ca n't see why you'd want it.
Yeah, I kind of like this place. It's so miserable. Even the people walking in my shiny doors now are miserable. And that's even *before* they taste the food. And the food sucks. I know. I made it. See, the grill gets the perfect adorable amount of hot. Just enough to get me to rub my face all over it for the amount of time it takes a patty to burn. I miss the `` flipping'' step of cooking burgers -- only step 2 of 2 but the grill opens my pores and I'm a little too easily distracted.
Yessir, I think we have a deal. Manager Molly ( I get to call her Molly because she thinks my Earthly body is cute ) may even be joining us soon! As Molly is a Mrs. but hides her ring every time she struts over to check on my wiping. Am I doing alright? Yes Molly I'm doing fine. Wiping's not that hard. And quit worrying about that trashy family, the one you've never even seen, putting out'cigarettes' on your tables. They do n't exist. Again, I'm bored. And I do n't want to see these tables get too beautiful.
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[ WP ] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form , Satan to corrupt souls , God to relax and observe his creation . One day , Satan walks into a pub , and sees God ( in human form ) sitting at the bar . God looks at Satan , slides a beer over to him , and indicates the empty stool to his left
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`` Luuuucy, look at you, you have n't changed a bit!'' The man who spoke was jovial, and wore a basic white polo shirt over khaki pants. His face was old, but there was something indefinably youthful about his eyes.
`` You know I hate that nickname. That joke has never been funny,'' said the man who was now pulling up a chair next to him at the bar. He waved down the bartender and asked for a whiskey, neat.
`` You have to lighten up, my friend. It was just a joke!'' The older man took a sip of his drink and put it down on the bar. He looked over at the other man, who was dressed sharply in a dark blue suit, with a soft expression. `` Seriously though, Lucifer, it has been too long. How long has it been now?''
The other man, having just gotten his whiskey, took a sip before answering. `` Come *on*. The whole all-knowledgeable thing really makes questions like that sound patronizing. You know *exactly* how long it's been.''
`` Seven hundred and twenty four years, eight months, two weeks and four days.''
`` Sounds right to me,'' said Lucifer, with a scowl. He downed the remainder of his drink and waved to the bartender for a refill. `` Why do you want to talk now, after all this time?''
`` You know why,'' said the man in white.
`` Oh come ON!'' The man in blue slammed his fist down on the bar as he said the last word. Almost cartoon-like, and in a way that would have been funny if not for his evident rage, steam seemed to rise from his ears. `` We have had this conversation over and over, and I am not changing my mind. *Especially* not now.''
The man in white took a deep breath before he spoke. `` You have always had such a temper. Granted I created you that way, but I hoped it would be something you would overcome and be stronger because of it.'' Lucifer started to respond but the man in white spoke over him. `` You have such potential in you, Lucifer. I created you to be the Bringer of Light, but you cast it away and took the fall, and for what? Your kingdom of nothing?''
Again, the man in blue seemed about to speak, but a commotion in the corner of the bar interrupted him. A fight had broken out between two very drunk men. They rained blows on each other until they were finally broken up by another group of patrons, and kicked out by the bartender. The scene now over, the man in blue looked back to the man in white. `` I would rather have my kingdom of nothing than fall in second to the ones you really love. Those... *humans*.'' He spit the last work out with disgust, as if he had just swallowed a spider. `` You will always love them more.''
The man in white looked at him closely, and leaned in so that he could say his next words quietly. `` You're right. I will. It is n't for you to agree with or to understand, but just know that I always will.'' He stood up from his bar stool and left enough cash on the counter to cover both of their drinks, and looked back at Lucifer. `` However, that does n't change the fact that I will *always* forgive you. I will always let you back in if you only ask. It's your choice, my son.''
He patted the man in the blue on the shoulder, but Lucifer pulled away. The man in white gave him one final, somber look, and walked away. As he opened the door to leave, a bright light filled the room, but was gone as quickly as it had come.
The man in blue sat alone at the bar, and downed the rest of his drink. `` Go to hell,'' he said under his breath, though if he was talking to the now departed man or to himself, even he did not know.
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[ WP ] An alien species got stranded on earth and is disguising itself as part of the animal kingdom . Waiting for the day when humanity unlocks interstellar travel , they 'll then hijack a human ship to get back home .
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It just happened. Humanity had just developed their first warp drive. And it just happened.
Everything was going well, initial tests had been good. We went from Earth to Pluto and back in less than a day. Estimates say that we could reach our nearest star system in a week. The end of the galaxy by the end of a year.
Then it happened. All the dolphins on earth just turned and swam up. But when they got to the surface of the water, they just kept swimming up through the air.
Then we got reports from Icarus, humanities first star ship. The dolphins had kicked them off the ship. Seconds later we saw the warp drive activate and the ship was gone. Headed towards unknown reaches of space.
All that was left was one message.
`` Goodbye, and thanks for all the fish.''
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[ WP ] The year is 2050 , Kim Jong Un has died in his sleep with no known children . In desperation , the North Korean Government seeks out his next of kin . They find him nestled away in the heartland of the US
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It's a pleasant and sunny day in L.A., where outside of one of many inconspicuous and plan suburban homes a black car has pulled up and waits idling across the street. Within the car a conversation takes place between two men.
'Aha, we have finally arrived at his majesty's residence Jae.'
'Are you sure Jin? I do n't want uh to be embarrassed again by knocking on the wrong door again because you ca n't read the numbers.'
'No, yes, I've got it this time. 415 Faircrest Lane that's uh the address, I have it on google Maps on my phone.'
'Alright. Here goes.'
The Ethiopian man sitting at the steering wheel looks back perplexed at the two asian men sitting in the back seat of his Toyota Prius.
'Well, are you getting out or what?' He asks.
The two elite North Korean agents exchange looks of trepidation before they each timidly stumble out of the car.
'Thank you, five star review please!' Yells their driver as he honks and rolls away.
'Ooooh... I'm so nervous Jae, I've never met North Korean royalty before!'
'I know Jin! He has the royal Un blood within him....how majestic! Do n't say anything stupid.'
'Me say something stupid? If anyone's going to say something stupid it's you. You almost blew our cover in the Uber by talking so carelessly.'
'I am polite, something YOU would know nothing about!' said Jae, pushing his shoulder against Jin.
'HEY! Do n't push me around you mongrel. I'm a black belt in Aikido, and I'm not afraid to destroy you...'
'Ha ha ha! Destroy me? Look at your gut Jin! The only thing you can destroy is a bowl of Pho and pork dumplings.'
Jin glanced away, halfheartedly kicking at a crushed beer can in the street.
'Well I'll give you one thing Jae... you should be an agent of the grand North Korean state because you really know how to hurt someone.' A single tear fell from Jin's eye onto the hot pavement below.
'Oh c'mon you cry baby Jin! Let's go find the our King already.'
The two men strolled to the front of the house they had arrived at in an inconspicuous manner, with Jin whistling `` Sorry'' by Justin Bieber as they approached. Jae reached out a bony hand to knock on the front door.
'Stop whistling Jin!'
'Shut up you - you - bully!'
'You're making us look like a couple of idiots!'
'You're acting like a Capitalist Asshole with a Capital A!'
The door opened. Both men immediately stopped talking. Behind it stood a fair Californian housewife, in full exercise clothing complete with spray tan and fake bosom. She held a wine glass in her hand.
'Uh... Can I help you?'
Before her stood two very unusual men for the neighborhood. One, the man who would later introduce himself as Jin, was tall and abnormally slim. He had a T-Shirt with the U.S. flag across it that draped itself across his bony shoulders. Below that were dubiously short shorts, frighteningly pale legs devoid of hair, and the feet of a delicate woman. They were even groomed as such. He looked Asian, but from which country Katie could n't be sure. `` Let's be honest'', the Irvine newspaper would quote her, `` They all kind of look the same do n't they? I do n't know - can I get a drink?''.
The second was much shorter and more corpulent. He had on a festive Hawaiian T-Shirt, with the top three buttons undone to reveal copious amounts of chest hair. Below that he wore slacks, and blue nikes. He had on a Marlins baseball hat, which clearly from the looks of the sweaty and wrinkly bare back of his head concealed his ungainly male pattern baldness.
Neither had facial hair, and they both wore those cheap colored plastic glasses that you occasionally see on kids but more often on homeless druggies and unemployed young males who enjoy long-boarding and marijuana.
'I'm Jae.' Said Jae, the lanky one.
'And I'm Jin.' Said Jin, who extended his hand as a fist bump instead of an open palm, as he'd recently just finished watching a plethora of old school 2Pac and Jay-Z rap videos.
Well this story certainly took a different turn than the prompt suggested. I like where it's going though. I'll come back and write more of this tomorrow.
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