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[ WP ] You have to can ability to dip between TWO parallel universes at will . You use this power to check outcomes in your `` test '' universe before proceeding in your `` real '' one . One day , you get stuck in your `` test '' one and have to deal with all the consequences of your actions .
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At first, it was an accident. I was half asleep, lost in thoughts about... something. It fades after a while.
And then, I was n't.
I was standing, and dressed, my sleeping attire a mere memory. It was like my senses had been cut off, just for the smallest and most brief of moments, before exploding with stimulus. People all around me were engaged in conversation, music played from some indiscriminate direction. It took me a while to realize, but I even felt a little drunk.
It was a dream, I told myself at first. A horrible, beautiful, *terrifying* dream. But details came back to me as I stood aghast. A friend, an invite, a party. An offer declined.
But now? Apparently, an offer accepted. And what a night I had. In the end it blurs, as it always does. But I remember waking, at home, in my bed. I sent a text to my friend to ask how the night had ended.
`` What do you mean? You did n't come!''
His reply left my wondering. Had I dreamed it after all? It seemed only logical, but part of me could n't or would n't accept it.
In time I realized it all came down to probability. I could return to a moment; a decision, and I could take the other path, or make the other choice. If it worked out I stayed, and if it did n't I'd return. I was n't moving backward, or forward, I was moving *sideways*. It was a long time before I realized what a curse this `` gift'' would be.
I lived a long life, but I was greedy. By the time I was twenty, I was a Millionaire. I was a Billionaire before 40. I had houses in every country in the world, and lovers there too. I genuinely had more than I could ever want, let alone need, but it just was n't enough. I constantly analyzed my life, looking for one more decision or outcome that could change it all. That could give me *more*.
Constantly, that is, until I found it.
The summer of 2009, at age fifteen, I made a small bet on a little known horse in a small race of little consequence. That's where I'd gone back to before, to begin my fortune. Betting hundreds the second time, and thousands the third. Only, the morning before that I'd had the chance to ask out a girl I'd had a crush on for what seemed like eternity as a teenager. In my time she'd become a very powerful business mogul, and our friendship continued, but I'd had to smother my feelings for her for it to remain so.
Here, now, I thought to use my ability to explore what would have happened had I asked her instead of backing out. And so, I did.
I felt the familiar *shift* and opened my eyes.
Darkness. Silence. And then, as it always did, the `` memories'' of this universe faded into recollection. I closed my eyes again, and let out an anguished sigh.
I'd asked her out, and she said yes. Instead of going home, frustrated with myself, I stayed. We talked away the rest of the day. I did n't make that bet; I did n't walk home when I would have. Instead of early afternoon, it was late evening. I walked home, floating on happiness, my mind focused elsewhere. I walked the same route home that I had in the last universe, but this time it was dusk and much darker. The car that had crashed into the fence, a mere passing mention in my memories, had in fact hit me instead. I spent weeks in the hospital. Every single night I lay awake, trying to change it back, to retreat back to the safety of my modified timeline. But something within me had been taken by the accident, or perhaps, by that which had granted me the gift at the first.
Each day I woke up in the hospital, in the same timeline, still unable to move.
We had our relationship, and in time she realized what I was, and she left. In greed I'd returned, and in greed I'd had it taken all away. This life, I spend paying it back.
Ended up a bit darker than I'd have planned but *shrugs* that's what happens when it's off the cuff
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[ WP ] Socrates and Plato 's souls are reborn as a pair of thoughtful rednecks .
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`` Now you see here Bobby, I do n't think I know nothin'. Every day I go on out to the forest and I be makin' water and some of God's magnificent creature comes'round and I think,'Cripes, Billy, you do n't know a good Gosh darn thing.''
`` Yeah I hear you, tell you what. Just yesterday there was that there rabbit jumpin' in my yard and I thought to myself why what's that rabbit's story? What's that rabbit mean? What's its motivation?''
`` That there rabbit hangin' from your porch?''
`` Yup, that's the one. I figure my motivation is to cook it into a nice there stew. I do n't know if it minds. Feel a bit like any rabbit alive today does n't know but what happens to it.''
`` Happens is a stew.''
`` Happens is a stew.''
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[ WP ] One day , you find a note in your breakfast ; one of the guards knows you 're innocent and is going to try to help you escape . You are n't innocent .
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He knows I'm innocent...
I suppose his revelation is meant to be my elevation.
His note, written with equal parts recklessness and selflessness, did n't move my spirit in the same way he intends to move me.
Does he not know me? It could n't have been selflessness. No. Is he so ignorant that his desire for good deeds must blot out his logic? If he knows that I am innocent then he must also know the sort of man I was before these bars closed around me. He should have known that I was a man that wore these bars around his heart long before this physical incarceration. I was a prisoner of my own making, and that is unforgivable.
The irony of it all is that I felt most alive just before the sirens and the handcuffs.
No, I wo n't move. My skin will fade to the colour of these concrete walls. My spirit will dim to the wattage of the bulbs swinging from the hallway beyond these bars. I will allow this to happen because in truth I have already allowed it to happen long before the fall of the gaval and the clang of my cell door. When two paths diverged in the wood of my life, I took the one most traveled by. I always charted the middle path. I fell in line with the endless trains of the faithless. And that has made all the difference. I lacked any difference from anything else.
An old man once told me that if you stay in one place too long you become that place. He was a rock of a man, but at least a heart pounded in his chest. At least he lived.
And so, in spite of the pleading heart of my well-meaning guard, I will become this place.
I deserve this place.
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[ WP ] The main character starts out with a noble cause , but descends into darkness . Not limited to ( but not excluding either ) revenge stories .
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Anger. I was n't always afraid of it, but when you ca n't fight and your words do n't mean anything... Well then it's a pretty scary ordeal to be around someone that is angry.
Uncle Tommy is nice, in fact he's awesome! He takes us to the park, lets us do arts and crafts and even gives us treats when Aunty Helda is n't looking. That's why I was so shocked today when he told me off.
Some of the words he said were mean... If I said them at school, I'd probably be kicked out. When I started crying he sent me to my room. I was scared he might hit me, but I feel safe in here, so I'll just bide my time until Aunty Helda comes home.
I've decided that tomorrow I'll be good. I'll get up early and wash the dishes. I'll make sure my room is super clean and that all my clothing is packed away. I'll even help dust the fire place, that'll really make him happy.
I smiled at my reflection in the mirror. Mrs.Dungelow always tells the other kids I'm smart, well it's time to prove it.
Opening my pen drawer, I reached to re-organize my stationary into a neat pile. I stopped mid reach, noticing a few pens were missing and that my diary was strewn open.
My heart beat rapidly in my chest. Who had seen my diary? The stuff in there was private.
Is that why Uncle Tommy was angry. I stood up beginning to walk downstairs and paused with my hand on the door. But he had no right to go into my stuff.
Plus he knew now and it would n't be long before he told Aunt Helda and they kicked me out. I had to stop him.
I inched open the door and checked outside my room. Tip toeing down to the kitchen I noticed Uncle Tommy laying down in the lounge and no one around. I poured a cup of juice and grabbed some random pills from the pantry.
Throwing them into a concoction, I stirred. Quickly. Checking the passage way to make sure no one was coming.
`` Here you go Uncle Tommy. This is because I was naughty, I'm sorry.'' I said.
He nodded his acceptance and took a gulp from the juice. `` Sit down'' he motioned me.
I sat across from him. `` I wanted to say I'm sorry for what happened earlier. I did n't mean what I said and I was really angry about something else.''
I nodded my apology and hugged him. The walk up to the room was a long one, but I knew deep down that Uncle Tommy had just said those things cause he had to. I flicked on the light to my room and walked inside. Tim was busy in my drawer.
`` What are you doing!'' I shouted at him.
He banged his head on the drawer in shock. `` Sorry Angellica, I was putting your pens back that I borrowed.'' He darted out of the room.
I felt my stomach drop and ran back downstairs. The juice was finished. Uncle Tom lay face first on the floor. I took his cup and went to kitchen, grabbing the ingredients to make a glass of my own.
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[ WP ] You 're an average citizen who lives in a superhero comic book universe . The universe has just gone through a reality-merging retcon event , which will affect your life as much as any superhero 's . Immediately after , you begin to notice the changes ...
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CNN continues to blare about disaster recovery, and how Congress is fighting over a bill to send emergency funding for those displaced by the giant superhero battle. There's a cute interview with a farmer explaining how he needs to know if legally the giant robot debris is his or not.
Scrolling through Facebook. Coworkers posting listicles about which heroes have had costume malfunctions during super fights, crazy uncle Gary posting more badly researched memes about discriminating against mutants, and wait... something's missing.
Huh. Ca n't be that important.
The drive to work is slow, traffic is insane. Just want to listen to some music, but emergency news broadcasts about routes being closed due to damaged roads take priority. Waze is thankfully compensating. Still, something feels off about the routine. Showered, got dressed, grabbed a bagel, off to work... by yourself as... usual...?
No. Wait? Are n't you married? Big wedding, still paying it off because you thought you'd have a better paying job? Her name was Crystal, she smiled at your corny jokes and kicked your ass at pool. Did something happen to her?
She was n't in the Facebook feed. You never really post anything other than happy birthday messaged, but she's the one who posts all the time. You love seeing them though. Her energy pulls through. Was it a glitch? You know it's illegal, but you pull out your phone and check Facebook. No... she's not there. You're listed as `` Single.''
Did she delete her account? Okay, this is getting scary. Your heart is racing. You pick up the phone, and she's not listed as a contact. Mom's there though. Mom's dead.
Is n't she?
Pull over. You were n't getting anywhere anyways. Build up your courage, and call Mom. This is a prank, or some sort of... it's ringing. It's her. She's so happy you checked up on her, these giant superhero battles are frightening, she's been through so many but she still loves hearing that you're safe after them. You reassure her that you were nowhere near the action, living in the same state does n't mean you're going to get hurt and you've had this discussion a hundred times before... no you have n't. She died ten years ago. How is this...
You ask her about your wife. She makes a crack about your left hand. MOM! Looking down at your hand, there's no wedding ring that cost too much money. Not even a mark. The scar! You got that little scar when you went rock climbing on your honeymoon and tried to show off! It's not there.
You loved her. You truly did. Crystal. You do a google search for her, and nothing. Google search for her parents. It took them years to warm up to you, but they finally did. They have three kids, not four. Different ages than Crystal's siblings were.
What is going on?
Mom's alive again, but Crystal never existed? Her parents got married earlier and had kids at different times?
You sit down in your car, and begin to cry.
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[ WP ] The Cubs are about to win the World Series . Suddenly , a man appears in a flash of light in centerfield and shouts , `` STOP ! NO ONE MUST BREAK THE CURSE OF THE GOAT ! ''
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It was kinda funny how you could be hated and adored at the same time. It was like the world was unsure of what to think of me. Hell, even I was unsure of what to think of me. Some people saw me as a hero, a legend: that one chick who went streaking across the field with her tits out. Others absolutely hate my guts for ruining what would have probably been the most influential moment in American history in the last century: they were gon na' do it, the Cubs were about to win the World Series. No, really! This time they were really gon na' do it. But that little stunt I pulled just completely derailed EVERYTHING.
Needless to say, I got arrested.
And as I sit here in this holding cell, possibly facing indecency charges or getting my name on some kind of offenders' list, I ca n't help but wonder if it was worth it. My parents would say no. They were on their way and I could just hear their mouths, just see the look of abject horror on their faces when they found out what I did. My brother would be proud, and probably a little jealous. Same for my older sister. Friends; did n't really have any. There was n't any time for friends when you were on the dean's list for four years straight, and valedictorian of your class, and president of the 4H and Beta and Key club. Acquaintances abounded with a life as busy as mine, but deep friendships, not so much.
Which makes this all the more weird.
See, if you had n't guessed by now, doing something like this just was n't in my nature. But I could n't help but act when I saw his face, that man that seemed to appear out of nowhere. One minute I'm sitting with my classmates, partially enjoying our little'senior skip day' outing, and the next, there's this bald guy yanking on my arm and screaming about a goat curse or something. I was about to dismiss him as another random drunk but as soon as I saw the look in his eyes, that look of taut fear and desperation, that look a person gets when they're running out of time, I felt something move in me, propel me to rise and -- for the first time ever -- act without thinking. It was like something came over me.
I do n't really remember the details of what happened next. They said I hopped a fence. All I recall is the burning in my legs and the chill against my bare chest and the ache in my knuckles from gripping my shirt so tightly and the sweat gushing from every pore and before I knew it, I got hoisted off my feet by security. It was so loud in that stadium that my ears were ringing even after they had me in the back of the cop car. I kept thinking,'oh shit oh shit oh shit,' as we drove away because the enormity of what I'd just done was catching up to me.
I'd be on TV. YouTube. My parents would see this. My classmates. My cat.
God, what was I thinking?!
I still did n't know, but I did know I'd never live this down.
`` Hey!''
I jolted violently when a voice, somewhat familiar, called out to me from the corner of my cell. Except for me, it was empty, but apparently not anymore. Just like before, this guy had just'appeared' out of thin air, looking just as unhinged as before. But also like before, there was a clarity in his eyes that made me sure he could n't be drunk.
`` You have to come with me.''
`` What --''
`` Now.''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Completely out of my element ( I know nothing of sports ) but I tried lol
Edit: I kinda derailed from the prompt, sorry. I have a problem with reading these prompts all the way through ^.^;
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[ WP ] 18 line freestyle
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Winter: it comes in so many ways. It's the chill in the bones as short come the days. It's the stop in life's race, it's the slow of heart's pace, it's the way your mind pauses behind your blank face. It's the ice in the pipes, it's the gun on the wall, it's the menacing stare of your neighbors down the hall. It's the ice, all sheet thin, with knives close beneath. It's the hatred and lies behind strained white teeth. It's the glances, aspersions, and constant diversions you find yourself in so you do n't let them win. But you crack and you thin and your armor caves in. For a starved beggar is a bore until he's covered in gore.
Staccato violence and a cold death in silence. Mother praying she wo n't meet her death at my hands. It's cold on the Earth, it's cold to the bone. It's cold in my mind because there's nobody home. Fingers on triggers and hard metal on bone. There's guts on the wall but there's nobody home. I wake and I wander, I wander and roam. But here in these halls, there's nobody home. For no one would have me but the Devil alone.
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[ WP ] `` I do n't know why the Girl Scouts want you dead , but Witness Protection does n't have the resources to protect you . You 're on your own . ''
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I am so lucky I dropped that goddamn cookie. I'd have never known there was a razorblade in it otherwise.
I thought it was weird they re-instated my favorite kind, just as I was considering buying a box. You can only turn them down so many times
It's those Smiles. They always look like somebody's put a gun to their heads.
I got ta think about this. How deep does it go? Is it just them - that trio of little blonde girls who came to me this morning, as I was in my bathrobe, barely awake? Is it just that one with the lisp, who mentioned my favorite cookies and then held them out for me?
The doorbell just rang. I do n't wan na open the door and just open fire with my revolver. Could be the Mail-Lady, and she's both really nice and really fuckable, so......
Oh, right, and I also do n't wan na murder any little girls, no matter how homicidal they are. Yeah. That too, right..........
Oh, somebody's trying to shove something through the mailbox. It must be the Mail Lady. I dunno why I'd get so much mail. Much less something.....
`` Can you grab it?'' She yells. `` It's getting stuck in the slot.''
`` Sure,'' I said, hesitantly. I'm not gon na grab it since, y'know, my mail lady does n't have a lisp. I get a little closer and see it's something shiny.
A knife.
I go in, very quickly, and grab my baseball bat.
`` O.K., Susie-May,'' I said, as it was the best thing I could think of at the time. `` Let's Play.''
I wrenched open the door and swung at the empty air where a little boy was just a split-second earlier, with the knife still stuck in the sockets.
`` WHAT THE FUCK?!?'' I screamed at the eight-year-old boy sprawling in front of me with tears in his eyes, shielding his face. I looked around and saw everyone in the neighborhood staring, mouths agape. Somebody was running inside, presumably to phone the police officers.
Well, is n't this just great, right?
`` WHY THE FUCK WERE YOU STICKING A MOTHEFUCKING SWITCHBLADE IN MY DAMN MAIL SLOT?!?'' I screamed it so everyone in earshot could know. The kid looked up at me, wiping greasy blonde hair out of his freckled face and begging me not to kill him.
`` It was them, not me!'' He screamed. `` They said they'd kill my parents if I did n't bring you down! I did n't have a choice!''
He starts bawling. Ah, shit.
Hey, what's that I hear over there, off in the...
I was right. Bitch called the Cops.
Well, this oughta be a good one, eh?
* * *
So after a Night in jail, guess what I came home to find in my mail box? Your choices are, A ) the Winning Lottery Ticket, B ) a formal apology from the trio of insane Girl Scouts from their parents, who have handed them over to Juvenile Hall, C ) A Rose from the Mail Lady as she watches from the tree in my yard, cheeks swelling and heart racing, or D ) the Mail Lady's Head. If you answered anything but D ), you are in WORLDS of better situations than I will ever, ever be, because I am not naive enough to assume that anything other than D ) could have possibly happened; and nor am I in living a positive enough experience to possibly assume that things will ever change.
So, she still has her hat on. It makes her head very, very difficult to dislodge. I end up yanking the hat and some long strands of black hair out, and I decide to put it on. Since the lispy bitch and her cohorts are no doubt watching intently, I will not give them the satisfaction of knowing they got to me; though they most certainly did.
There's a letter in her mouth, opened. I pull it out, realizing she's clenching down very hard on it. I.E., somebody forced her to bite down on it before, y'know, sawing her fucking head off. Pretty sloppily, by the looks of it - wait, are girl scouts given training in how to use hardware tools? I wonder if they have a merit badge or flair or whatever it is for Decapitation.
*Dear Mister Monster, * it starts in that prissy, pretentious script writing that preppy girls do in Elementary School.
Well, this ought to be good, right?
*Watching is a fun game, but it is not fun enough. Selling is not for fun or values, no. Selling is for business, and if there's one thing the Girl Scouts do well, it's EVERYTHING!!! But business especially! We are not Gnomes in a Tree baking Cookies, no. We are the Future. Have you never heard that children are our future, Mister Monster? Well of course not! You live only to make pain, you live only to consume but never produce. We toil for you, we break our little backs and work our little hands to the bone, selling and selling and selling magic and joy and loveliness into the world. And what do you do? *
Uh, I play Basketball, get drunk and up until now I tried to woo the Mail Lady, pretty much. I even bought a box of your goddamn cookies'cause, shit, who the hell do I have to look good for?
*You take and take and take. No children. No Wife. No life to speak of. All your relatives are dead; now you leech off our world - ours, the CHILDREN'S world, without any thought or care for the sake of the entire human race. Mister Monster, how can we let this go on? How can we tolerate the rape of Terra? How can we let you leech off the whole without ripping you out and casting you aside as the wretched little parasite you are? Mister Monster, I implore you: help save the world. Help us help you and everyone there ever was. I have died before. I will die again. So will you and all other living things. Nature feeds on nature. From death flows life. From blood flows blood. If you have even a little bit human left in your decaying soul, you will surrender. Sincerely, *
- *Girl Scout Commander Gamma Prime, A.K.A. `` Suzie Princeton'' Class 10598, Bloodhawk Guild Omega. *
Well, shit. Here I was thinking they, like, weaved baskets and such. The more you know, right? ( *Hollow Laugh* ).
* * *
So there I was - I, Mister Monster, I was now thinking of myself - sitting with my revolver and wondering not, `` How the Hell do I shoot a little girl?'' But thinking, `` how do I explain it to the Policemen afterwards?''
Well, ya see, officer, they put a razorblade in my cookie, and they sawed off the Mail Lady's head because they knew I had a crush on her, right? How's'at? No, I did n't do it. Why would you say that.
I was thinking that and then I was interrupted by something hitting the floor.
I went over to the hallway that led to the door and saw her, there. Sure enough. The little Girl-Scout Commander with the lisp and the uniform, proudly displaying badges.
She was dropping my bullets onto the floor.
I switched open the revolver and saw that the thing was empty. Useless.
I threw it aside and stared her down.
`` Ready to surrender?''
`` To what?''
`` The Future.''
`` What in the Hell does that mean?''
She giggled.
`` Well, of course you would n't know. You have no future.''
`` Come at me and we'll see about that.''
You know how kids will push you over the edge because they know you wo n't hit them? Yeah. This was like that, though I was ready to break her fucking neck like a chicken's if she did n't shut her chipped-tooth maw.
`` Did it ever occur to you that there are too many of us?'' She asked. `` Not too many girl scouts. No, in a perfect world - and a perfect world is what we shall have - there will be nothing BUT girl scouts. But not soon enough. For now, we need to take care of the.......cattle. We need to thin out the herd. Six billion humans? Six billion? What a peculiar number! How did things ever get so far out of hand? Six billion humans. There are six million in New York and even that is too many! We must cut it down, by at least two thirds. Good, obedient Girl Scouts can stay. Wasteful, all-devouring monsters? They must go.''
She talked to herself, not me; looking at her hand and fiddling her fingers.
*'' You* must go.''
`` Why me?'' I said. `` Why do you care so much? I did n't do shit. Hell, I donated to a couple of charities and I drive a Prius, even. What did I ever do to the world?''
`` If we allowed everyone reprieve than everyone would suffer. We look for people with no friends. No family. No kids or significant others.''
`` What about the Mail Lady? We were going - ``
She giggled.
`` Mister Monster, we need to get to targets early. You and her had n't even had a first date yet.''
`` You could n't have waited?''
`` Wait a while with a patient smile and feel as the whole world dies,'' she said. `` Mantra Ninety-Five. We must protect the world, Mister Monster; and saving the world means taking action before it's too late.''
`` So, why?'' I asked, becoming aware of the little girls in their green uniforms slithering out from under my coffee table, behind my television and couch and refridgerator; out from under my sink and up in my attic.
`` Mister Monster,'' she said. `` What do you think is in those girl scout cookies?''
I looked over at the half-eaten box. The one I'd started before finding the one with the razor blades in them.
`` Or rather,'' she said, pulling out a miniature chainsaw. `` Who?''
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[ WP ] Bob does n't realise he 's the last man on Earth because he 's still receiving packages from Amazon .
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Bob checked his Amazon account using an uplink from his satellite phone. His shipment left Denver and was currently stuck in customs. He scoured the web looking for a phone number to call about the delay. He spent a good portion of his free time following link after link until he finally found a number. He disconnected the internet link and dialed. An automated voice led him from option list to endless option list. Press 1 to check your order. Press 2 to check why you're even bothering. Press 3 to annihilate humanity. Bob tried all three options to connect to a living being.
He learned nothing new from the automated response system other than the fact that he needed to keep trying. *Why do they make talking to other humans so damn difficult? * he thought.
If he'd only known that Amazon was responsible for sending out the drones that killed their customers, triggering a massive response that devastated the Earth, he might not be so keen to give it his current GPS coordinates. Unfortunately, he did n't know and therefore did n't understand the significance of the buzzing noise approaching his coordinates as he dialed the next of a string of numbers arranged by the new Amazon AI to frustrate consumers.
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[ WP ] Making the mundane interesting
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My mom headed the project to upgrade all the stoplights in St. Louis from analog to digital in 1988. When the job was done, they gave her one of the analog timers as a souvenir, and it, being both sturdy and interactive, became one of my first toys.
You've probably never seen a stoplight timer. They do n't look like much. Most of the mechanisms live in a nondescript aluminum box, and they are controlled by a large, spinning metal wheel with ninety-two slots. An analog stoplight's cycle is exactly ninety-two seconds long. I have known this since I was old enough to count the slots. The lights are controlled by different-colored pegs -- you put the pegs in the slots where you want the light to change. My stoplight was green almost all of the time.
I got older, until I was just about the right age to take it apart. They're built for easy repair, but it seemed that I had sprouted magical powers when my screwdriver teased the aluminum box apart at the seams. Cogs, springs, pegs easily separated from their housing. Soon, the box was empty, and the carpet was strewn with dusty metal parts.
The parts went back more slowly than they had come out, but every single part wound up back inside the casing after a time. The last screws went in, and the box was complete again. I flipped the timer over, and flicked the wheel with my finger. It ground and caught. No amount of reassembly persuaded it to spin again.
We've misplaced that timer since then. I always wanted to go back and make it work again. I never did, and now it never will.
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[ WP ] You were granted your wish for immortality the day before the Apocalypse .
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`` Do you understand what you must do?''
I looked up at the figure hovering before me. Death itself, come to see me. I could n't see much past the tattered black robe that hid whatever features he had. It carried no scythe, nor could I see any bony features. There was just darkness, and the robe.
`` No,'' I replied. I was trembling, I realized, from excitement, from fear.
Death's voice was harsh, booming, *commanding*. Woe to the fool who disobeyed. `` You will be my agent, and you will bring the End of All. In exchange, I offer immortality to you. As my instrument, you will bring back the Balance to your world. Too many live on Earth. It is time for them to die.''
I nodded. `` I understand. I will do as you say, my lord.''
`` Then as it is written, go, my agent, my omega, my lich. Go and raise your army tonight, for tomorrow, the End begins.''
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[ IP ] `` White Sea '' : Giant Fish Beached on Snowy Tundra as Men in Black Trench Coats Shake Hands
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He did n't have a name; they never did. When you called The Board, you were n't supposed to know or talk about anything on them. All you did was call them when something odd happened. This, Ivan sumrised, was especially odd.
The massive fish sat there like an obelisk, its skin an ugly, oily shade of black and its eyes holding a disquietingly pallid sheen to them. Ivan had never been a fan of Fish—ugly little creatures that had no sign of life in them, and always had such an ugly expression on their little faces. The only redeeming aspect was their flesh, and looking at this impossibly huge creature, Ivan could comfortably say he was n't feeling peckish with those dead eyes staring forwards.
`` So,'' The Man said, jarring Ivan out of his agitated glances. He looked at the figure, hunched in black coat and hat, his face shadowed. `` How'd you find the thing?'' He asked, each word a puff of cold smoke.
Ivan raised an eyebrow, looking at the carcass and at the man again. `` You're kidding, right?'' He asked.
The man gave a careless smile and shook his head, probably thinking something along the lines of'smart ass'. `` Alright, phrasing. Let's try this. Was it here when you got in for work this morning?'' Although Ivan felt the need to be a bit cheeky and ask the man what he meant by morning—during Winters like these,'morning' became more of a shade then anything else—he held himself back. This was a man doing his job, and like any other man, he probably wanted to get out of this cold, cold weather and head for a nicer, warmer home.
Presumably. One could never quite tell with The Board, but it helped to think they had a normal life outside of this.
Somehow.
`` Nope. Got here about 3, stayed in there the whole day and never heard nor saw a thing.'' Ivan dutifully said, sticking his hands into little fists in the corners of his pockets. `` Come outaide, and, whoof. Fish.''
`` There was n't any sound?'' The man asked, an eyebrow raised. `` Nor tremor? It did n't fall from the sky or anything?'' Ivan gave a derisive snort at the question.
`` Lad, ignoring for a second I'd have felt or known if there was one—headphones or not—''
`` Headphones?'' The Man interrupted. Ivan scowled at the interruption, rolling his eyes and deciding he would have asked the same in the circumstances.
`` I work for some bands. They send me the vocals or instrumentals, I mix it all around, get paid—is this really relevant?'' The Man shrugged, expression almost as vacant as that of the Fish.
`` Well, regardless–what in the hell could've dropped a Fish that big?'' Ivan asked.
The Man simply looked at him, and for a moment, Ivan would have sworn he'd seen a small twitch ran across his face, almost in the eyes as if he'd looked up for a second. `` Who knows?'' The Man replied. The interview came to a halt as one of his co-workers, a man in a lighter shade of coat, shouted something indecipherable to Ivan. The Man took note and a smile drifted across his face before he returned to Ivan. `` Well, that's that.'' He said, holding out a hand. `` Thanks for your time.''
Ivan looked at the outstretched hand for a moment, as if a handshake was a foreign gesture to him, before slowly taking it in his own and giving a small, polite shake. `` Eh, so, can I go...?'' He asked, tentatively. The Man nodded, slipping back into a calm stance as their hands parted. `` And this'll be gone?'' Ivan asked, glancing at the Fish.
One of the pupils of the Fish was focused right on him.
Ivan felt much more colder in the winter breeze. The Man spoke up, expression calm and nothing in his voice betrayed that he knew what had happened with the creature. `` It'll be gone by tommorow.'' Ivan said a few words, thanking them and the like, he was sure of that, but he was probably already in his truck and driving away when he did.
Sure enough, the Fish was gone the next day.
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[ WP ] You 're a human trader for the intergalactic slave market . Advertise to buyers why they should buy human instead of another species .
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`` Zorgak! My favorite customer, what a pleasurable surprise it is to see you here!''
`` I want a refund.''
`` Oh... I see. Yes your Plutonian does seem a little...''
`` Dead.''
`` Ahem. Yes. I take it the methane mining did n't go well?''
`` Damnit Zengal, you've made a fool of me! Everyone I consulted told me that Plutonians are insufferable methane addicts, but did I listen? No! I listened to *you*.''
`` Sorry friend, no refunds. Can I interest you in an exchange?''
`` Fine. But this one had better be good.''
`` Oh, I just got some brand new stock in. Earthlings. Brilliant species, do you know that they came up with quantum relativity only four milinea into their civilization?''
`` What is quantum relativity?''
`` Bolloucks, mostly. but it's very complicated bullocks. Scruffles! Come Scruffles!''
`` Rather small is n't it?''
`` But it can do tricks. Scruffles, Pythagoras!''
`` Oh, a visual proof of the Pythagorean theorem. Charming. My pet can do that.''
`` They make excellent pets, Earthlings. Fiercely loyal creatures. Your little ones will love him.''
`` Why is it bearing its teeth at me?''
`` Aw, he likes you! It's an Earthling sign of friendship. Odd at first but you'll get used to it, and if you do n't then a regular beating will take care of that. But do you see how small his teeth are, and his claws could n't cut a silk sheet! No natural defenses, eh?''
`` Unless there's a psychic streak in him.''
`` it seems to come and go with these ones. Genuine Psychics cost more but they're a lot more maintenance if you want to keep that area of the human mind active.''
`` And what praytell is that unholy chittering spewing out of its feed-hole?''
`` Mating call, I'm pretty sure. If you do n't like it I can cut out the flappy pink bit in his, uh- feed-hole. But he'll only take liquids after that. Look, Zengal you're missing the point. His kind used to run down four-legged beasts accross the sere and beat them to death with a rock. He's tough, and look at those legs, he can walk literally all day long. Runs on 1000 calories a day, easy. 1300 to spoil'im. You have n't even seen the best part! Scruffles, twirl your the pencil?''
`` Wow. How does he weave it between his um-''
``'Fingers'. Very Dexterous. See he's good for manual labor, but he can also tie a knot, *by himself*. ``
`` *Fingers* you say? And can the other finger do things?''
`` Do n't touch that! It's where he pisses from. He gets all uptight if you put your claws on it. But check this out. Scruffles! Scratches!''
`` Oh- um I'd prefer if he did n't fool around behind my ears you know I do n't usually purchase those sort of slaves you never know where they've- oh my. Well, that, that is quite- um. Oh- Scruffles you should probably- oh wow! Okay, okay, YES! Damnit that is good! YES! SOLD!''
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[ wp ] You are the Avatar . Master of all elements . You are currently on element 19 of 98 currently known , and are learning from the feet of the Grand Potassium Bender .
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“ Im ready to learn Master Kalium ”
The old man looked down at me, he reached into his back pocket and produced a small ball that was silver in color.
“ Potassium is soft like the sand, easy to conceal and burns with a majestic lilac flame, making it a necessary tool for the most stylish of firebenders. ”
I sighed; I had already learned this before, in college. This whole Avatar thing was archaic; nobody had once even needed the power of the Avatar since the days of Avatar Korra. Now the avatar was essentially a big celebrity.
“ Just try to defend against the true power against element 19! ”
A lilac flame appeared in his hands; I simply opened my water bottle, and without even bending splashed it on the flame causing it to explode in the “ Masters ” face.
“ Yea I think I ’ m done here… ”
Calcium bending sounded cooler anyway; I couldn ’ t wait to break some bones.
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[ WP ] God got drunk and decides to prank call an atheist .
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`` Thanks for tonight, guys. I needed this.'' God rubbed his belly and leaned back in his chair. `` You know, I've been pretty stressed lately... I'm questioning the whole'free will' thing I did... damn, I mean... they're... it looks like they're actually going to make Trump president of the US.''
There was silence around the table.
`` Yeah, I'm questioning that one...'' God rubbed his head.
Michael, the angel, reached over and grabbed God's shoulder, `` Hey, man, do n't beat yourself up. I mean, come on, there been some good times this year. Mankind is n't completely far gone... I mean, like... um... Hey! What about Pope Francis. He's doing a pretty good job, right?''
Gabriel grumbled under his breath, `` Ha. Fucking millennial ass-kisser...''
`` Hey,'' Michael said, `` come one. Millennials are people too. They're not all bad, right?''
God shifted in his chair and put his elbows on the table, resting his head in his hands. He looked uncomfortable. `` Yeah, I dunno. This generation is stressing me out. They all think they're the shit because their all'atheists.' Do you know what it feels like? Being rejected by a whole generation, man? ``
Gabriel stood up and yelled out to the bartender, `` Hey, I think we need one more round over here!''
The bartender came over with three more apple martinis, extra apple.
`` Thank you, my child'' God said to the bartender.
`` No problem, man.''
As he left, Gabriel took his iPhone out and started dialing a number.
Michael turned to him and said, `` Dude, what are you doing?''
Gabriel laughed, `` God, let's prank Bill Maher again. Here, I put his number in the phone, just hit the call button.'' He handed the phone over to God.
A huge grin spread across God's face. `` OK... OK... what should I say...''
Michael reached over to try to take the iPhone away. `` God, no. You're drunk. Give me the phone.''
`` No. Gabriel's right. I want to have some fun tonight and like, fuck Bill.'' God started laughing. `` OK... OK... no, I got it. Watch this...''
God cleared his throat. He hit the dial button and put on the phone's speaker on. As it rang, he looked back and forth between Michael and Gabriel, wide eyed, his pointer finger held up to his lips.
Bill picked up. `` Hello?''
With a Mexican accent, God replied, `` Um, hi Bill. I'm calling to inform you that your dealer Rodrigo was in a serious car accident on his way to your place and he asked me to call you...''
`` What? Who is this?''
`` Um, this is Jesus, his brother. Unfortunately the dope he picked up for you was in the car and it caught fire...''
Gabriel rolled his eyes. `` That's dumb. Come on...''
God put up his hand and continued, `` Yeah, I'm sorry Bill but you're not going to get any of your stash this week.''
`` What the fuck? Is he OK?''
`` No, man. He... he is in a coma.''
`` Wow, man.''
`` Yeah. Oh, and, he wanted me to ask you... I mean before he slipped into the coma... he wanted me to ask you to.... to tell your mom that he had a good time last night...'' God pursed his lips, trying to hold back his laughter. There was a long pause on the other end.
`` Who the fuck is this?''
God and Gabriel burst out in laughter.
`` Man, this is fucking God.''
Gabriel waved his hand, and mouthed the words, `` No, no, hang up...''
God continued, `` Yeah, I'm fucking God.''
`` I do n't have time for this shit...'' There was a click and then silence.
`` Dude, he hung up. You're retarded.'' Gabriel laughed and grabbed the phone out of God's hand. `` You are not good at this.''
`` What?'' God opened his palms and shrugged. `` I thought that was funny, right''
Michael shook his head with disapproval.
`` Dude, you were totally like,'Doh... I'm God', fucking moron.'' Gabriel slipped his phone back into his coat pocket.
God leaned back in his chair, his smile starting to fade. He crossed his arms and started looking around the bar. `` Whatever. At least I'm fucking God. Who are you?''
Gabriel stood up. `` O-kay. Playing the God card again. That's always how you end it. I'm out, guys. Mike, can you get him home?''
`` Sure, man. See you later.'' Michael slapped Gabriel's hand and gave him a hug.
As Gabriel left, God was pulling out his iPhone.
`` What are you doing, God?''
`` Nothing.''
Michael glanced over to the screen of God's phone. `` Come on, you're not calling Mary, are you? She said she needed space.''
`` No, I need to talk to her...''
`` Give me the phone. No drunk dialing for you.''
`` No! I'm God. I command you to...''
`` No more of this shit, God.'' Michael easily grabbed the phone out of God's hands as God started to fall out of his chair. He pulled God up to standing by the back of his robe.
`` Let's go.''
`` No, no, I'm fine. Let's have another round.''
`` Nope. We got work to do. You need to sober up. I'm taking you home.''
God conceded and started to walk towards the door with Michael.
`` Sorry, man, this whole Trump thing is stressing me out.''
`` I know, that's why I need to keep you functional. They need you now.'' Michael took out three twenties and handed them to the bartender on the way to the door.
God reached the door and looked back at Michael. `` But that was pretty funny, right?''
Michael sighed, `` Um. Sure, man. Come on.''
They headed out and the door slammed behind them. The bartender counted the cash and started chuckling. He picked up the telephone behind the bar. After three rings, he said, `` Dude, it was hilarious. I put extra vodka in His drink like you said. He was fucking wasted, making prank calls. Man, Lucifer, you should have seen it...''
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[ WP ] the world is in danger , and your fourth grade recorder skills are now required to save it
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Everyone knew it was over when he first appeared. A gigantic grey wolf with a chain wrapped around its neck emerged from the ground, whose roars were enough to topple skyscrapers and shook the ground with each step it to.
The world banded together to fight against their impending doom. Missiles, bombs, and bullets were thrown against the creature, but nothing worked. It was hopeless- it would only be a matter of time until every last thing was consumed.
As the creature was tearing through villages and slaughtering humans like cattle, he was interrupted by a small child with a plastic recorder in his hands. Without a word, the child brought the recorder to her lips and blew out the worst rendition of `` My Heart Will Go On'' possible. The wolf was soon brought to its knees, and the world was saved.
My inspiration: https: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=jaK2yvIi5CI
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[ WP ] A man dies only to find that he goes into a parallel world where he can only move 200m from his place of death . Problem is , he died in a rather busy spot , so he 's not the only one .
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Jake realized he was getting pulled out of the water. He must have blacked out on impact. Without opening his eyes, he turned and vomited up bay water, coughing to clear his lungs. A reassuring hand patted him on the shoulder. `` Can you give us a little space? Thanks.'' The voice was female, unfamiliar, but kindly. Jake assumed she was n't talking to him.
Wincing, he slowly rolled onto his back and opened his eyes, blinking at the sunlight. A woman was kneeling at his side - she was probably in her mid-30s, with a kind, worry-lined face. She was wearing a dress and heels, which seemed odd to Jake, given their location. Wait - what was there location, exactly?
`` Where...?'' His sentence was cut off by his stomach heaving again, and this time he leaned forward to vomit up water between his knees. The woman patted him on the back again, her hand making a slight squelching noise against his suit jacket.
`` It'll take a few minutes for your system to clear the water. Unpleasant, I know, sorry. Do you remember what happened?''
Jake shook hi head, no. He felt hungover, nauseated and headache-y, and his memory was foggy.
`` You're in... well, the locals call it purgatory. Right now, we're about 250 feet below the golden gate bridge, somewhere around Pylon 43.''
Jake looked up, squinting against the sun. He could just hear the faint noise of traffic above the sound of the current. He and the woman were at the edge of a large raft that looked to be comprised of debris and driftwood. A small cluster of people stood about 20 feet away, whispering to each other and occasionally glancing over at Jake.
`` Oh... oh my god. Am I dead?''
`` Technically, I'm afraid so. That's what you wanted, is n't it.''
Jake shook his head, water droplets shaking from his hair.''
`` It's okay. It's what we all wanted, at one time or another. Or thought we did.''
`` And this is... purgatory.''
The woman smiled faintly. `` That's what we call it, at least. No one really knows. Maybe all souls end up here, or maybe it's just those of us who committed suicide. We're all suck, you see. None of us can move more than a certain distance from the place where we... well, died. We think it's somewhere around 200 m.''
Jake took a deep breath, trying to form a coherent thought. He looked at the woman, taking in her dated dress, her formal shoes. `` And you are...''
`` My name's Daisy. I was the first. Well, the first to jump near here, at least. there are others further down the bridge, but they're too far away to talk to. But we can wave.''
Jake shifted his weight slightly, feeling the raft move beneath him, buoyed by the current. `` What is holding this together?''
Daisy laughed, clear and bright. `` Rope, seaweed, and willpower, I think. One of the advantages of our situation is that we can dive without worrying about running out of air. Lets us explore a little, and search out things to keep us afloat.''
`` I'm an engineer. Or was, I guess. Just wondering if physics still applied.''
`` Well, we do n't need air, or food or water, or sleep. As far as I can tell, at least. It would probably be a lot more fun if we were n't stuck on a raft in the middle of the bay, but we make do. Do you want to take off your suit jacket? I think it's keeping you a little damp.''
Jake complied, peeling off the damp jacket and wringing it out. He plucked the now-wilting carnation out of the top buttonhole and turned it over in his hands.
`` Do you want to talk about it?''
`` It's a little late for that now, is n't it?'
Daisy shrugged, her eyes not meeting his.
Jake sighed. `` I was supposed to get married. She... she was killed by a drunk driver the morning of the ceremony. I guess...'' He cleared his throat. `` I could n't bear the thought of life without her. And I had a fair amount of whiskey.''
Daisy nodded soberly. Jake heard faint voices in the distance. He looked across the bay, and could faintly make out the outline of another raft with people on it.
`` What about you?''
`` Depression. Had it all my life. Figured ending it was better than being miserable, but I never dreamed I'd end up here. Most everyone here calls me'Ma,' since I'm the oldest. Well, been here the longest.''
`` Do you regret it?''
Daisy's face clouded, her brow wrinkling.
`` I'm sorry, I...''
`` No, it's okay. I guess it's ironic that now that I'm trapped here, I finally have a sense of purpose. But I'd give this up in a heartbeat if it meant that I got to live my life again.''
The voices were getting louder, punctuate by an incessant beeping.
`` Is that normal?''
`` Is what normal?''
`` The voices, and that beeping?''
Daisy shook her head. `` I do n't...''
Jake gasped, his chest heaving as he was shocked back into consciousness in the back of the ambulance. An EMT was monitoring his vital signs as another spoke insistently into a radio.
`` We almost lost you there. Do n't try to move, we think you have a broken leg and possibly a fractured hip. We'll be able to tell for sure once we get you to the hospital, okay? Just focus on your breathing.''
They had cut open his dress shirt, Jake noticed. Monica had picked that out.
He closed his eyes, feeling tears well up. He had gotten a second chance, and he owed it to her to make the most of it.
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[ WP ] Heaven and Hell are only so prevalent because they paid for Ad time . Tell me about one of the more obscure after-death locations .
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The darkness, hollow and cold, was pierced by a sudden light that streaked away to infinity. With a wild gasp, Emily awoke. She blinked away tears, taking in her surroundings. A small yet luxurious office. She sat in a fine leather chair situated in front of a mahogany desk. The thin gentleman behind the desk had white hair, yet his face looked young. He looked up and smiled. “ Ah, right on schedule, Ms. Nakahara, ” he said in a calm, jovial voice.
“ What is this place? ” she asked. Emily ’ s eyes went wide, and she pressed a hand to her stomach. “ Wait! I was... bleeding. What happened? Where ’ s my husband? ”
The man across the desk cleared his throat. “ There are several ways in which you and your husband differ, you know? He ’ s a man, you ’ re a woman. He likes Star Wars, you prefer Star Trek. He ’ s alive, you ’ re… ”
She waited a few breaths. “ Dead. You ’ re saying I ’ m dead. Cut the crap! What the hell kind of con is this?! ”
“ I understand, ma ’ am. Most people react this way. You must be terribly upset. I bet your pulse is skyrocketing right now. ”
At that, she gained a sudden awareness. Her pulse was gone. She sank back down and took a few moments to compose herself. “ Dead, huh? ”
“ I ’ m afraid so. ”
“ Okay... well… ” Emily ’ s eyes caught the placard on the desk. “ Mr. Gray. Do I get to know which direction I ’ m going? Up or down? ”
“ Neither. ”
“ Wait, what? ”
“ You don ’ t meet the requirements for either Heaven or Hell, ma ’ am. Really, they ’ re both quite exclusive. They only seem prominent because they pay for the most ad space. Most people end up... here! ” Gray gestured dramatically around the small room.
“... I ’ m stuck in this office? ”
“ Argh, no! Hold on… ” He seemed to be pressing a button under his desk. Repeatedly. “ Why won ’ t it... ah, there! ” With a resounding clang, the walls and ceiling fell away.
Beyond was... everything.
A dark sky filled with stars, planets, and galaxies stretched off in every direction, including below. “ Welcome to the Hub! ” Gray declared.
Emily sank into her chair. The sheer expanse was daunting. “ This is... amazing… ”
Gray nodded and leaned forward, a conspiratorial smile on his face. “ If you ask me, it ’ s a lot more interesting than those two ‘ elite clubs ’ you hear so much about. ” He winked.
“ So... what do I do here? Do I just... float? Forever? ”
“ Oh, no no no! What fun would that be? ” Gray snapped his fingers. Emily found herself standing in what appeared to be a futuristic-looking train station.
She scanned some of the destination names on a board nearby. “ Weather Control... Exploration... Chance... Godhood University... Dream Weaving... World Building... are these… ”
“ Just a handful of many zones in the Hub, ” Gray finished. “ Enough to keep you occupied for centuries. And if you ever get bored, well… ” He pointed to another destination that read “ Reincarnation Offices ” in glowing letters.
Emily chuckled. “ So... what is this one? Exploration? ”
Gray smiled. “ I had a feeling you ’ d be drawn to that. ” He walked toward a large gateway and beckoned her to follow. The space within the massive door was like the surface of a shimmering lake. “ It ’ s a portal, ” the man explained.
“ I figured as much. I ’ ve seen Stargate. ”
They stepped through, and the two of them were floating in the middle of a starfield.
“ Space again! ” Emily noted.
“ This time it ’ s the real thing. We ’ re being projected to the mortal plane. ” Gray opened a starmap of the nearby stellar region. “ You see, the gods, contrary to popular belief, are not *all*-knowing. Sure they ’ re experts in their own people and their own world. But out in the vastness of the cosmos, even the gods are in the dark. The Exploration division seeks to scout those unseen areas. We ’ ve already got a lot of personnel congregating in the Trappist system, but you ’ d be welcome to venture in any direction. ”
“ That ’ s incredible! You know... ever since I was a girl, I ’ ve always dreamed of exploring the unknown... but by the time I was born, most of Earth was already mapped. ”
Gray nodded. “ You always were the adventurous type. ”
“ Yeah. That ’ s why my husband and I were out in… ” her voice trailed away. “ He would have loved to see this. ”
“ It wasn ’ t his time. ”
“ Oh, I know... I want him to live his life to the fullest. And... I ’ ll be waiting for him. Even if it takes decades. Then we can go off exploring the universe. Together. ”
“ What if he finds someone else while you ’ re gone? ” Gray asked.
Emily shuddered. “ I... guess that ’ s possible. But it ’ s a chance I ’ m willing to take. I ’ ve got all the time in the universe, right? ” She thought back to the train station. “ There was a section called ‘ Dream Weaving ’, wasn ’ t there? ”
“ That ’ s correct. ”
“... can I use it to say goodbye? ”
After a moment, Gray put a hand on her shoulder and smiled. “ I thought you ’ d never ask. ” The man summoned a portal back to the station, and they stepped through.
*****
*Edited for spelling/grammar. *
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[ WP ] After many years of work , a woman is heartbroken when she finally completes her collection
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*'' Click'' *
The basement door opened with a gentle push as Kate put the key back into her purse. The smell rushed to greet her when she walked down the stairs, a sour stench of stale air and old cardboard boxes.
She felt around for the switch and turned on the lights, the glare blinding her momentarily.
The last one had been impossible to track down. She had spent weeks looking for it, meticulously planning how she could snatch it up to finally complete her collection before Christmas, only for the internet to fuck up her bid on eBay. That was why she could n't believe her luck when she walked past the thrift shop while running an errand downtown. To think she had almost given up, with it being almost a year since she'd got her hands on the previous doll. The shopkeeper was more than reluctant to get rid of it for 50 bucks, a case of beer more appealing to him than a child's plaything sitting on his display window.
The porcelain dolls were n't just a plaything, though.
They were part of a collection of specially designed dolls from the 1900s, delicately painted and handcrafted. Back in the day, only the rich could afford expensive toys like these for their children, a joy long forgotten in this age of cellphones and ipads. It made her both angry and sad, and she swore would never let Carly grow up that way.
She walked over to the shelf and carefully placed the doll in the only remaining spot, then stood back and admired her collection - 12 beautiful dolls, painted mouths smiling at her. A wave of sadness washed over her unexpectedly, and her eyes were wet. Now that the collection was finally complete, she would n't be coming to the basement as often; maybe just once every few months to dust the shelves. There was nothing left to do. Nothing left to look forward to.
`` Mommy?'' came a small voice.
Kate's 4 year old daughter, Carly, had appeared at her side suddenly, startling her.
`` Oh, Carly. You frightened me.'' Kate bent down and faced Carly, `` Mommy got you another doll, for you to play with.'' She smiled at her daughter as she stroked her hair. She had so much of her father in her eyes...
Carly shook off her mother's hand from her head and moaned. `` I do n't want another doll, Mommy. I want food.'' She started to sob.
Kate was taken aback.
`` Food? But I gave you some yesterday.'' She said, checking the bindings on Carly's hands. `` Do n't be silly.''
`` I WANT FOOD!'' screamed Carly, thrashing violently. `` I WANT FOOD!''
`` Shhh...'' hushed her mother, `` you'll disturb them.'' She pointed at the shelf. `` Do n't be a naughty girl.''
Kate walked over to the light switch and flicked it off. Carly was screaming and sobbing as usual, and she was going to disturb the dolls. A little silence and darkness should shut her up.
As always.
She walked up the stairs, again surprised at her own tears pouring down her face.
Her collection was complete. Carly will enjoy herself so much, just like she herself did when she was a little girl.
She shut the basement door.
*'' Click'' *
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[ WP ] The Messiah was reborn in the 80 's . People just did not believe it because he was born in Vegas and is working as a stage magician to supprt himself .
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Thomas often doubted that he had any talent at all. Someone, once, at a casting call, had told him to work on his act. “ Look, you got ta commit if you want people to like your magic. You know how they always talk about the willing suspension of disbelief? People these days aren ’ t *willing*. Unwilling is the default mode. You ’ ve got to save them from themselves -- from the constant call of the inner cynic. The only way you can do that is if you offer yourself up completely. We ’ re talking total devotion -- you can ’ t hold anything back. You think you ’ re the only one who ’ s crapping their pants on stage? The difference between you and, for example, Billy Wicked, is that Billy goes all the way: he puts his life on the line. There ’ s no way he isn ’ t afraid, but he just keeps raising the stakes. That ’ s what it takes, man, to really get to people these days. ”
Billy Wicked was a brand name -- a multi-million dollar entertainer -- performing the kind of magic that could only be called extreme. He had gone from Houdini-esque escapes, to flinging himself down Niagara Falls, to catching bullets in his teeth while tied to a burning pyre. Always emerging unscathed, he would claim, with ferocious conviction: “ This is not magic. This is real. What I do is not magic, it ’ s *real*. ”
*Cheers, Billy, * thought Thomas, lifting his glass in a silent toast. In roughly half an hour, he would take to his own stage -- in this no-name lounge in Vegas, on the pianist ’ s one night off, pulling roses out of ears for tourists who didn ’ t tip, who even while inebriated could call out his sleight of hand. “ I saw that, ” they would say, “ You had it up your sleeve. ” And they would nod, looking very smug, while Thomas shrugged, smiled, and carried on.
Now, sitting at the bar, nursing a Diet Coke with lime -- Thomas shuffled a practice deck and thought about why he did what he did: performing his middling magic with purposeful pedestrianism. A stinging in his thumb called him out of contemplation, and Thomas saw that, as usual, he had acquired a paper cut for his pains; a thin red line seeped up through his skin, staining the corner of a card.
“ Did you hear about Billy Wicked? ” asked Jack, polishing a glass behind the bar.
“ What? No. Can I have more ice? ” Thomas held out his drink.
“ He ’ s *dead*, ” said the bartender, with relish, “ And it ’ s exploding all over the internet. Literally, like an hour ago, he died live on Conan O ’ Brien. ”
Thomas froze, chest tightening, feeling suddenly disembodied. He heard a faraway clinking, felt a chill in his hands, and looked down to see Jack shovelling new ice into his tumbler. “ Wasn ’ t tonight some kind of reveal, for his super-secret new act? It ’ s probably some trolls trying to make up some fake news. ”
“ He ’ s *actually* dead, man. For real. The top-secret stunt was -- wait for it -- he was planning to hold his breath, for fifteen minutes underwater, while *blasting electricity through the tank the entire time. * He was jerking and shuddering, and everyone thought it was part of the act. It turns out he was actually drowning, and probably died about five minutes in. All that jerking around was just the electricity. ”
Jack slapped his phone down on the counter, pointing to a clip in his feed. It was ten seconds of Billy ’ s face, contorted and strained under water, as incandescent currents flashed forking and wild around him, snaking and flickering with sharp, white, unrestrained malice. The violence of the spectacle felt obscene to Thomas. As the clip drew to an end, and panned out to the audience, he saw that a certain vulgarity -- a certain viciousness -- possessed them all. A pervasive hunger, a thrilled, greedy, awful yearning -- seemed to yawn from their open mouths and spring from their clenched, ecstatic fists.
“ That ’ s horrible -- where was his team? The paramedics on site? They must have known he was dying. I just can ’ t imagine -- he must have felt so scared and alone -- ”
“ Nah, ” Jack scrolled down to another shot of the rapt audience. “ That ’ s the thing. Everyone was so into it -- they thought the performance was *just that good* -- that nobody thought for a second to do anything but watch.''
“ Can I have four beers? ” asked a man, shouldering up beside Thomas. “ Already have a tab running -- hey, is that Billy Wicked? God, what a nutjob. Can ’ t believe he didn ’ t die sooner. Guess he was right in the end. It ’ s not magic -- it ’ s real. ”
Jack and the man laughed, and for a surreal moment, Thomas thought he heard wolves howling, and saw the glint of fangs.
“ Excuse me, ” said Thomas, and he made his way to the toilets. There, in a dark cubicle that smelled of fake musk and piss and booze; as bad pop throbbed through the doors with long, virulent wails; as two men outside discussed the banalities of mating, Thomas leaned against the fake marble partition, and quietly began to cry. And again, he thought about magic, and why he did what he did, and why all he did was parlour tricks, and quick cons, and illusions.
When the soreness in his eyes had spread into an ache throughout his face, he felt the cubicle door jiggle and saw Jack ’ s shoes through the gap below.
“ Hey, it ’ s almost showtime. When are you coming to work your magic? ”
“ Concerning that day and hour, no one knows -- not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only. ”
“ Ha. Matthew 24:36? Man, I hated Bible study. Scarred for life. I ’ ll tell them you ’ re ready. ”
“ It ’ s not magic, it ’ s real, ” whispered Thomas, wiping salt and wetness away. Then, he went to give his audience the performance they deserved.
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[ WP ] Write an upbeat post-apocalyptic tale where life is ( for the most part ) much better than it was pre-apocalypse .
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It's interesting how life can turn out for the better after an apocalpytic event.
The zombie apocalypse broke out not too long ago. Day 0 was a total shit storm. Seeing people get mauled to death, turn on you, and then you being forced to end their undead life. It was n't an easy thing for many people. I even saw a woman kill herself after ending her own zombie husband. I get it.....too bad though, she was pretty hot. She was definitely in my spank bank.
Anyways... I was working in the office when the shit started. It was sirens in the distance. Me being the curious, bored office worker, I went to the window to check it out. Could n't see much since it's all high rises and I'm stuck somewhere in the middle.
But it was n't long until you started to see people running and screaming around the corner at the intersections and then shortly after you begin to realize something's not quite right. People jumping on each other and tearing and biting at each other. It was n't long shortly after that a few of my coworkers were stuck in my building barricading the doors.
This was easily the worse part of the apocalypse for me. I'm in this room stuck with a bunch of bizcon assholes who never really liked each other. Above all, they never really liked me. I was that `` this whole system is bullshit, we're living in the rat race'' type of guy. First couple of days, they were trying to establish order and maintain a degree of civility, trying their best to ration any remaining food.
Though....it only took a few more days before my coworkers started going nuts. Fear of starvation and the likely impending doom ahead of us as zombies were just everywhere. But me.... I was n't scared. For some reason, this felt normal, it almost felt right. In the back of my mind, I knew my parents were dead, they were n't survivors or fighters. They could n't survive this. It was surprising how quickly I let that thought go. The next interesting thought that popped into my mind was how law and rules did n't matter anymore, as if, the realization of my parents death crumbled the existence of our civilization and the rules put in place to keep us rats in the race. It just did n't matter any more.
You see.... this is when things started to get interesting, this is when I saw the light. We knew on the other side of those doors were these blood thirsty zombies. It's like they knew the living was in here. Some hopeful humans clinging onto life as they know. They just kept banging on the door for days. Maybe not everyone could see it, but I knew those doors were going to come down.
I went to the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife I could find. Those cake cutting ones we use for people's birthdays that no one really cared about, except that they got cake out of it.
I walked back into our gathering area and just,........ I just started to stab and slice and rip people open. I have to admit, I probably blanked out at this point. I only remember having this massive boner. But when I started to regain a sense of myself..... I saw my last coworker up against the door, trapped between me, a door, and zombies. Unfortunately for him, the door started to give and the zombies had a hay day with him.
In that moment, I was covered in the blood of my fellow humans. CLingy, no good, greedy starved humans. And I accepted my fate. Fuk the world we lived in, I'm ready to die.........
But.... it got even more interesting. The zombies..... they just walked past me. They walked past me like I was one of their own.
That's when I knew...... that life was going to get real good for me from that moment forward. I was home.
__________________________________________
Before you comment; I'm not actually a psychopath office worker or anything like that.
I just wanted to write something from a seemingly fuked up perspective, that would still sound good for the person telling the story.
I love all humans.....
but fuk the rat race. we're better than this.
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[ WP ] Describe an emotion without mentioning that emotion in the piece .
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You wake up feeling groggy, you fell asleep last night early but that did n't stop you from feeling restless. You do what you always do in the morning, make coffee, look for something edible in the fridge and slump in your chair while you mentally debate whether to go to work or not as if you had the choice to. After your coffee cup got empty you left your not so uncomfortable chair to take a shower and get dressed.
Work went as usual, Susan complained of back pain even when it was obvious that if she did n't sit in such and awkward position she would feel better, John was rude to another client when this time the client was right but he could n't manage to be wrong, Mary took another of his infinite breaks and by this time we did n't care as she was the boss favorite. Everything as usual. But this time someone new came to your floor, a small-framed woman with an air of happiness that seemed impossible to wear out, she seemed at first sight one of that people who found happiness in everything, nothing could be possible bad or have malice; you hate them.
You focused to ignore her after your boss introduced her to the entire floor but that seemed to attract her more to you because she went after you to ask about every possible thing she could, not quitting that delighted smile of hers.
When it was time for you to leave to work you unintentionally sighed with the thought of going home, even when you were n't doing anything. Opening the front door you were greeted with your empty living room, a brown couch an old table and a tv laid there dusty due to your unwillingness to clean them, dust was going to appear again so what was the point? You left your body relax in the couch and begin to get undressed, piece after piece of cloth laying in the floor careless, it did n't matter anyway. While trying to get your button up shirt out you received a message, something strange as you never got texts or calls. The text was from an unknown number so you opened to see who could be.
**'' Hey! it's May sorry to disturb you but I asked for your number to another colleague and I hope you do n't mind, so I wanted to let you know I'll host a party in my house to meet everyone and celebrate I moved in! it will be at 7 pm! hope to see you there!: )'' **
A party, eh? As if you were going. It was a nice detail from her but it was useless, she was going to hate you anyway, everyone did even when they told you they did n't. Nobody liked you, so it did n't matter if you went or not. After staying in just underwear you laid the couch your phone in hand, falling asleep in the process.
*****
This is my first attempt of writing second person and it was certainly hard. It's the first time I write a prompt here so if someone has advice I would really appreciate it.
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[ WP ] A man wakes up one day to discover that the last thirty years of his life were a dream , and he is still six years old .
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At first I thought I'd woken into another dream. Certainly I've dreamed about my childhood a lot when I was younger. Familiar places and actions wear a groove in my mind, and sleep puts the needle back into those grooves. So many times I return to the library, or the park, or the store.
But I did n't wake up from the dreams of my past. I was young again, as young as I could remember. Three of my younger siblings were n't in existence yet. It was the late 1980s again. The biggest problem is that my memories from that far back were so dim and cloudy that, closer to them, there are things I do n't know that I should. My present is overshadowed by memories of the future.
I did n't have a terribly traumatic childhood; I'm not having a terribly traumatic childhood. No painful abuses to relive. In many ways it's an opportunity. I've made a lot of good decisions in my life and only a few bad ones, and I'd been happy with where I wound up. The problem I face now is, with this foreknowledge, what do I do to ensure that my life returns to how it had been, or is slightly improved?
I could be rich, of course, I could save up my allowances and buy shares in Google or Amazon or any of a number of stocks. I could get a head start on day trading, get out before the tech bubble bursts, invest in real estate and get out before that bubble bursts, make myself rich investing in the upcoming wars. But what would that do to me? What sort of attention would it gather? I've read `` Dominoes'' by CM Kornbluth, I know tampering with that sort of thing could be very risky, very dangerous.
We're shaped by our mistakes as much as we are by our successes, and I have to make the right mistakes. Do I join the military again? Do I join in the field that I later wash out of? Do I wash out of it? Do I go forward with my first marriage, the one that failed and ended not even two years later with a pile of debt and bad memories? How much did it shape me? Knowing what I know now, do I need that shaping again?
I have a daughter, 26 years in the future. I need to make sure I see her again.
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[ WP ] Aliens landed on earth , and they 're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower ... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal .
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Glar oozed backwards, his adrenal sacks oscillating in surprise. The incredible beings flew towards him at a prodigious speed, propelled by some means Glar could n't even see. They skittered around in a dance of colors, emitting high-pitched chirping sounds. With hast, he slid back through the bio-lock, down the corridor, and into the computer room for some much needed analysis.
By slowing down the video recordings, Glar was able to understand. These beings had evolved on a much smaller world, after all. On this planet, where night and day passed so quickly it made Glar nauseous, it was no wonder the creatures were so damn fast.
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[ WP ] Color turns out to be a non-renewable resource . It can be extracted and transferred from one thing to another , and can also be used up .
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Faces, so many faces. Faces lying up, lying down, side by side, distorted, burnt right off, slid, cut, stabbed, pierced. Each as cold as the last, each as cold as the metal tables that served as their resting place. The undertaker on duty was Dr. Morrison, he was a somber fellow, you had to be when your customers never talked back, with a limp for a leg. He was a nice man after a drink or two, and he liked his job because of that. It was a bit of a shame, you never saw him much outside of the morgue, so he was permanently drained of colour in more ways than one.
`` So, which one do you want me to pull the stuffing out of?'' he said dryly, shambling up to me as I stepped purposefully into the room. I held up a polite hand and walked back out, back into the bright steely blues and cold hues of the station. I stepped into the room again, inspecting the wooden doorframe as I did so. He inhaled and breathed out a long, heaving sigh. He took a pale white hand to his tiny spectacles and plucked them from their comfortable position on his broad nose. `` I've told you already, Jim, you ca n't figure out where the boundary is. They make them like that.'' he wheedled, slipping a finger underneath a crease in his labcoat and rubbing at the round glass. I scowled, and hunched over to inspect the door frame. I squinted at the finely cut wood, sturdy as the tree it was, held together with links of shining metal. It snapped between the humdrum colours of the office and the bleached tones of the morgue. He chuckled, `` Welcome to the deadzone.'' I turned up to see him walk away, raising his arms in an expansive gesture.
`` Get me Jane Doe number 39. How come you wanted a colour-eater for this room?'' I asked conversationally, finally crossing the flickering of the border. I squinted at it one more time before jogging between the bodies.
`` Hold your horses, she's over there.'' he flung out a hand, a deflection, the somewhat tight gloving threw itself forward before jerking back into a snug, form-fitting rubber casing. I followed his finger to a cadaver by the back wall, spread on a table slightly smaller than the others.
`` Alan, that's a man.'' I frowned. `` I'd have said Ji-''
`` Yeah, yeah. She's over here.'' I heard metal creaking on metal as he pulled up a stool, a noise as jarring as his interruption. `` Wooo, ai n't she a beaut.'' he whistled mockingly, `` a floater, a bloater, a fat piece of pie.'' he sang off-key, pulling the melody from whatever tortured voice had sang it first. I'd heard it before on long drives, a recent song by a recent local band. I brought myself to the other side, grimacing as the sound rattled my ears.
I dug a finger into one of my ears, much to his amusement. `` Do n't use the dead to dodge the question. What's up with the colour?'' I asked. Ow. I dug deeper, losing balance for a fraction of a second as my free hand passed him the case file.
`` Thank ye kindly,'' he said, pulling the file out of my shaky grasp and leafing past the monochrome photos of the woman. `` Were n't you here when I unveiled it?'' I shook my head, I was sick that day, `` Huh, she's got various cuts down her arm and across her face. Bruising on the legs suggest beating when she tried to run from the captors. Seems to fit.'' I noticed he never looked at the faces of the people in the morgue, I personally thought he'd had nothing better to do than to memorize each scar and each cut when he sewed them up. He flipped through the file as I stared at the woman. She lay there motionless under the cold light, wearing only a sheet. Her face suggested she was of African-American origin, the slightly larger nose, puffed up cheeks and that hue of dark grey that filled her face. She had n't deserved the beatings she got, she had a family to feed, a house to mortgage. Why'd they just choose her? She was just another cog in the machine wanting to fit in place, in fact, I stood as another cog surrounded by tables of broken parts. Another product spat out by the machine, one that did n't want her back when she asked. I turned to another, a European tourist who'd come over for a fun little vacation, he was abducted, drugged, and thrown in a river. People seemed to like the rivers nowadays, we always found floaters.
I looked at my own hand, an oddly darker shade of off-white. His voice drew me out of my thoughts, apparently it had been going on a while. `` -mob. Look, you clearly are n't listening. I do n't wan na have to do this again, but if it'll get you out faster, better for me.'' he got up, part of him slid off the stood and onto his dominant leg, then the rest followed. He hobbled over to where a machine had been silently whirring at the back of the lab, sitting calmly next to more machines whose purpose I did n't understand. Except next to this one was a glass jar full of little coloured beads. I knew those, the highly concentrated ones that only industrial machines make, they look like whatever colour was most dominant in what they pulled up, you had to try real hard to crack them open. You could n't find them in stores either, the ones they had there were all for just domestic use. `` Crack'em open on whatever you want and presto, colour!'' the clerks said when we went to investigate. A vent at the side of the machine threw out a pure white cloud of steam, and another little bead popped into the jar. `` This little baby is my beautiful little bean counter. He sits here sucking up the colour and plopping them into these fine crystals.'' he plunged a hand into the bucket and pulled out any old bead, inspecting it like it was some forgotten relic, except it was, he sat here all day. The little pearl of colour held a calming blue like the office but with a red gash cutting through it. `` Other than making the firm a million dollars in offloaded colour, these little guys serve another important purpose. When I showed the directors why I wanted this, their frank responses pretty much broke down and gave me the okay.'' his voice dropped low as he spoke, as if preparing for something. He placed his hand on a tiny lever on the exterior of the contraption, a tiny raised plaque next to it read'Tonal Shift', `` Get ready.'' He looked away from the bodies and pulled the lever.
The machine whirred down to a complete standstill, the steam stopped venting. A blotch of colour with the machine as its center started expanding outward. The shape of the expansion was not uniform, but covered more distance at the corners, spreading throughout the room. I could n't help but crack a smile, it was like watching something out of a kids movie. The walls flushed with a light but saturated red, not quite heavy enough to be called bloody, and the floors shined with blue in the light of the overhead bulbs. I looked down at the body below me, she was bleached white. White as a sheet, just like my hand. I looked around, there was the chinese immigrant whose brother we arrested plastered in dark black tones, a white man sallowed in grey, more mismatched colours, more people in monochrome. I started to sweat, tugged at my collar at the sudden heat in the room. I looked up at Alan with an expression like an unspoken question, *this could n't be real, right? These were people. * I gurgled, sputtered out a noise he surely thought I'd make. His shoulders rose and fell in an indifferent shrug. *You saw the rallies, the riots on the news. * seemed to hand in the air. Bile was rising in my throat.
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[ WP ] An immortal and a person who reincarnates with their memories , keep meeting throughout history . Usually at a bar . What do they talk about ? What have they done in their lifetimes ?
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The bar is poorly lit and half the chairs are covered in dust, as if semi-abandoned. One grumpy bartender is cleaning a glass, giving occasional glances to his customers to see if any of them need a refill. His bushy eyebrows make it seem like his eyes are always shut, but he never fails to notice a customer needing drinks or perhaps even some brewing trouble.
Some of the regulars are singing behind the counter, only occasionally stopping to order a new drink. A woman is sitting in a corner with a bottle of whiskey with a filled glass next to it.
Her hair is short and blue, wearing a white jacket, she seems the sort that would leave the place mid-step after opening the door, yet she does n't mind the decrepit bar. It's the kind where people mind their own business and the bartender probably has a shotgun under his counter. She occasionally sips her drink and is lost in her thoughts.
The bartender notices a young man walking into the bar. He slowly observes the man as he makes his way to the counter. He's wearing a black coat, has black hair and wears black boots. His face suggesting he might have to show ID to buy a drink.
The young man orders a bottle of rum and a glass, after looking around the bar, his eyes stop on the woman. He makes his way to her table and sits down.
`` Fancy seeing you here Charlotte'' Says the man.
Her eyes dart up and recognition alongside a small smirk flashes across her face. `` Chronos?'' She asks, inspecting him. `` If i remember correctly, then you're barely old enough to drink right now.''
`` Indeed and you're as smiting as ever.'' He says as he pours himself a glass of rum. `` Great job with smothering the resistance some 20 years ago though. Did n't end well for me as we both can see.''
`` Why do you bother with it? why not advance science towards the good for once, instead of trying to achieve mayhem?'' Charlotte asks.
She continues while frowning: `` I'd rather try exploring space than be stuck cleaning your messes. Until humanity advances enough, we'll both be stuck in this repetitive place. Why not help it advance instead of trying to bring doom?''
`` No, I'm not like you. Unlike you I've seen death and what's between it and life enough times to know that i'd rather stay there than keep coming back.'' Responds Chronos.
`` You would n't understand, You ca n't understand, not the way you are.'' He says.
`` One eternal life is better than countless short ones with enough time in'there' to realize you do n't want to come back, yet will be brought back.'' he adds.
She looks up at him to see pain in his eyes. She sees and expression that should n't be on a face that young. `` There are ways to keep you from dying as soon, If you'd help medical science.'' She says.
Chronos gulps down his entire glass of rum and retorts: `` You do n't get it. The plague, the Manhattan project, the Iron resistance. You should know that we're fundamentally different even if similar. There has to be a human alive for me to come back. I'm too tired, I have n't wanted to come back for a very long time by now.'' He says with rage in his eyes, but the rage fades and pleading comes instead. `` Do me a favor and help me not come back anymore.''
Charlotte turns her face down with a sad glint in her eyes. `` I know... I know... But I'm too selfish to let that happen. Without anybody like you, I'd remain all alone back here.'' She says as she finishes her whiskey.
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[ FF ] Contest : Three Long Tones Then Silence ( 1 month Reddit gold )
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**Started writing this before I saw the word limit edit, but I wrote it so I'm posting it anyway.: ) Also, fair warning for anyone who decides to read this, I do n't have time to finish it right now so I'm sorry for the complete lack of resolution. **
A long hot shower is usually just what I need to wash away all my anxiety. This time it was just a precursor to a shit storm. As soon as I stepped out of the bathroom I saw her confusion. She was standing there, in the living room, with my cellphone.
`` What's going on here?'' I said.
`` You... have really creepy friends,'' she said.
`` What, did I miss a call?'' I walked over and took the phone from her trembling hands. I pulled up my recent call history, but I was n't prepared for what I found. `` You called Sky? Lisa, what the fuck? Why are you calling numbers in my phone?'' I paced back and forth, avoiding eye contact. `` You called Sky?''
`` What the hell is going on? What the hell was that robot voice about?''
`` Oh god,'' I said. I walked up to face her and stared into her eyes. `` Lisa, this is very important. What did you say?''
`` I did n't say anything. I just hung up,'' she said. `` Then they called back, right before you got out of the shower, and some weird robot voice told me they'd be here in five minutes.''
`` Lisa, get in the car. NOW!'' Her lips made subtle movements as though struggling to find words. `` Lisa, if you do one thing I say without questioning it in your entire life, let this be it. We have to get out of here. Get in the fucking car!'' I grabbed the phone from her hands and tossed it across the room. Then I dashed into my room to grab my bug-out bag and I was in the driver's seat before Lisa had her hand on the door. She got in and I threw the bag into her lap, turned the key and was screeching out the driveway a second later.
I sped down an old country road, quickly switching lanes to overtake other cars when necessary. Lisa took turns staring at me and looking ahead as her knuckles turned white from gripping the handles.
`` What the hell are we running from Michael?''
`` Do you really think this is the best time, Lisa? When I'm pushing top speed and any slight overcorrection means we're dead?'' I shifted gears and slid into a curve. `` If you wan na be useful, reach into the front part of that bag and find a blue zipper pouch.'' She began to fumble around in the pack and suddenly stopped. She pulled out my.45 and turned to me with wide eyes. `` I would n't worry about that right now. Just find the pouch.'' She retrieved it from the bag and I took it from her. `` Okay, so here's the deal. There's a grocery store just up ahead. We're going to park, as far away as possible from anyone we see, and we're switching cars.''
`` Why would we do that?''
`` They'll have this one on file. They'll be looking for it. Just trust me. This needs to go down in a split second. We park, get out, I'll be in the car as soon as you get to the passenger side. Do n't worry about looking suspicious. Just get in so we can go.''
`` Do n't worry about looking suspicious?'' Lisa's eyebrows stretched as far up as they could go. `` A guy in a bath towel and a girl in her pajamas parking one car and leaving in another... what's suspicious about that?''
I slowed down as we got to the parking lot and pulled up next to an El Camino. Sometimes it's better to be conspicuous. Hiding in plain sight can be an effective tactic. We switched cars in a matter of seconds and we were gone.
Sticking to country roads we made our way north. We rode in silence for a while. I was still fuming about the abrupt change in expectations I had experienced. It was my day off. I wanted to relax. I wanted to break open that bottle of scotch and listen to some records. But now I was running for my life. Now, a slight misstep and we would both be dead.
`` I do n't suppose by some miracle you have your passport with you?''
`` No,'' Lisa said. `` Why would I carry that with me?''
`` I do n't know. It just would have been easier if we did n't have to sneak across the border.''
`` So we're fleeing the country now? Michael, I swear, if you do n't tell me what the fuck is happening right now, I'm going to jerk the wheel and send us into the ditch.''
`` Damn it Lisa! This shit would have never happened if it were n't for your trust issues! What the hell were you doing calling numbers in my phone?''
`` Well it seems to me that my trust issues were validated when we became fugitives an hour ago!''
`` You were a little off the mark though, would n't you say?'' I started to lose circulation in my hands as I tightened them on the steering wheel.
`` I really fail to see how that's relevant. Maybe you're not sleeping around, but what the hell are you doing that our lives are now in some immediate danger? I'd go so far as to say that's even more of a concern, Michael!'' I pulled into a small shopping center and coasted into a parking spot. I turned towards her, trying to muster whatever calmness I could.
`` You want to know? You really need to know so badly? I repeatedly slammed my hands against the steering wheel.'' Fine!'' I drew in a few deep breaths, exhaling slowly. `` I'm a contract agent for a global organization that no one you know has ever heard of or will ever hear about. That's more than you need to know or deserve to know. That's more than I should even be saying, but it does n't matter now. You know why? Because when you decided to go through randomly calling numbers on my phone, you called Operations. And when you called Operations, and you did n't say anything, you initiated Silence Protocol. And what Silence Protocol means, is that I've been compromised, and I'm targeted for elimination, along with anyone closely associated with me. You, for example. You happy now? Make you feel better to be in the know?'' We sat in silence for a long time.
`` So, here's what happens now,'' I said. `` Since you're more appropriately dressed, you're going into that thrift shop and buying us some clothes. And make sure you get some thick coats. It's cold in the mountains.'' I grabbed the pack from her and dug my hands into one of the pockets. I pulled out an envelope and removed some cash, handing her a couple hundred dollars.
`` I'm not going in there,'' Lisa said.
`` We do n't really have any other options, Lisa.''
`` I'm in pajamas! I'll look like a crazy person!''
`` Yeah, well I'm in a damn towel! I go in there, they'll call the cops.'' Lisa's lips were shut tight in a frown, but I could tell she was grinding her teeth.
`` Fine!'' She got out and slammed the door.
Ten minutes later she walked out with two large bags. She got in and tossed one to me. I dumped it out on the seat between us and went through them.
`` Really, Lisa? The jeans all have holes in them. And plaid shirts? Am I suppose to be stuck in the Grunge era or something?'' She glanced at me as she stripped off her pajamas.
`` Beggars ca n't be choosers Michael.'' She wrestled with her jeans, then pulled a blouse over her head. `` Besides, you said we were going to the mountains. Is n't that what mountain people wear?''
`` You mean lumberjacks?'' I said, begrudgingly donning my new duds. Fully dressed, I started the car and we pulled back onto the road. Lisa leaned over and switched on the radio. *Come, as you are, as a friend... * `` Oh, that's just perfect.''
***
It was almost an hour before Lisa broke the silence again. `` So, you do n't work in product recall, obviously. Has everything else been a lie too?''
`` Not everything,'' I said, focusing on the road.
`` So, those business trips. What were you doing all that time?''
`` I do n't want to talk about that right now,'' I said. `` Honestly, you probably would n't want to know.''
`` So did you really have a basset hound named Rufio? Did you really play in a jazz band in college?'' Her eyes appeared to be fixated on the horizon, but I could tell she only saw the endless questions running through her head. `` Are your parents really dead?''
`` Yes,'' I said.
`` Oh. Sorry.'' Her eyes sank to the floor.
`` Look, Lisa, let's not do this now. There'll be plenty of time for that when we get to the cabin.''
`` The cabin?''
`` Yeah. We're not just winging this. I do have a plan.'' After a long stretch of woods we were coming into a small town.
`` So where is this place?'' I glanced over at her. She was surprisingly calm now.
`` It's north,'' I said. `` You hungry? I'm hungry. Let's stop and get something.''
We pulled up to a small diner and went inside.
*To be continued... *
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( WP ) Lucifer never fell , God just needed his most trusted archangel to claim the darkness so the real evil could not .
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I had a strange feeling in my stomach as I walked towards His meeting room. I was curious as to what He might be summoning me for, as I was not aware of any planned gathering of the Archangels, and it was rare that He would only call upon one of us. While walking towards the chamber I happened by Michael, easily the most imposing Archangel, with his scales in hand and sword at his side. `` Where might you be headed?'' He inquired as I strode past.
`` He has called me for a personal meeting, I am not quite sure what for, though I know it must be important,'' I replied. It was then that I noticed something was amiss. Michael's typically more positive aura was not as strong as usual. `` Best of luck to you, Lucifer,'' he said solemnly. I was not sure how to feel about that, though perhaps Michael had a trying day as well, since we were close to the start of His plan to create a whole world.
As I entered the room I felt His light wash upon me, a feeling that can not be described in words. `` Hello, Lucifer,'' his voice rang reassuringly in my ears. `` Hello, God,'' I cheerfully replied.
`` Do you know why I called you here today?'' He asked.
`` I do not, Heavenly Father,'' I answered.
`` Lucifer, I have an important task to ask of you. It may wall be the most important task that any of my Archangels will ever deal with, should you accept it.'' My mind began racing, what could possibly be the most important task for an Archangel?
`` Anything you ask of me I shall do, my Lord,'' I responded, unsure of what could possibly come next.
`` Lucifer, you are one of my most cherished Archangels, and as you know I plan on creating beings with absolute free will.''
`` The humans, yes?''
`` Correct. They shall be my most impressive creation ever. However, there is one last step I must have come into fruition before I can begin creating their world and them,'' he said. What was asked of me next was indeed the most taxing moment of my existence.
`` As these humans will exist as beings with entirely free will, in order for them to be able to recognize my Light and stay true to me, there must be something else in direct opposition. Without light there can not be darkness, and so without an Evil, the Good that is me can not exist to them. So I am asking you, my most dear of Archangels, to bear the most difficult challenge ever and directly oppose me for all of eternity.'' For minutes I was at a loss of words. It was previously incomprehensible to me that the most important way to show loyalty to Him was... to directly oppose him. Even to this day I do not think it was an easy choice to make. However, it was His plan, and I would follow his lead until there was nothing left of me.
`` Father, if this truly is your Will, and you know that these humans would need such a Damned entity to exist in order to appreciate your awesomeness, then I shall bear this, the most greatest of burdens.''
`` Thank you, Lucifer. This shall be the last we will speak until the end of days for humans. You and I shall be in constant battle with one another, vying for the love of them. Claiming the ultimate gift of a human's free choice. You have been an amazing Archangel and I know you shall be an amazing evil. Your new name until the end of days shall be Satan.''
`` Yes, Father.'' I said. All at once I felt His presence leave me. Then I left the room. I walked past Michael once more, now my second greatest enemy next to God. A rival whom I shall soon challenge in order to separate myself from His realm and create my own, in direct opposition. In an odd way I was very happy I would be given this opportunity to play such a crucial role in His plan. That is probably when I realized I truly am Evil.
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[ WP ] A demon grants you three curses to send to your enemies . It warns you however , that it will try it ’ s damnedest to turn the curse into something positive for the recipient .
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`` I want him to have a flood, like a mile deep.'' I was happy to find this `` devil'' guy, have been a while he wanted to do that.
`` Ok. I'll put a bit more water for the show.'' Why was he having such a big smile?
Six months later I confront him. `` How the hell did he survived!? He even managed to save his wife and children!''
`` I *may* have told him what will happened. Hopefully so, otherwise there would be nobody else alive, you dumb f**k.'' His grin grew wider.
I still had 2 curses left, so why not use one of them.
`` Since last time, because of you, they like me. I want to change that. I want you to send them like a few plagues to make them understand I hate them.''
`` Ok. 7 plagues will do.'' I would slap him hard for his smirk, if only his body was physical.
`` What the hell happened? Why are they are in a better situation than last time, with all the plagues?''
`` Oh *maybe* they managed to use this to get free from their oppressors. And by the way, opening the sea is legally a plague.''
I hate humans with all my guts, and now they *worship* me. I hate the devil even more, but I fear that if I use my last curse on him it will go even worse for me.
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[ WP ] A family secret being uncovered . Do not explicitly state the secret .
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My oldest sister Jane learned of the secret in a prayer session intended to release her from the sins of her ancestors. The man who was praying over her felt the darkness and told her about it. It should not have mattered to her, seeing as it had occurred in 1954, two years before she was born. But she was furious, so she confronted Mom.
Mom could not bring herself to talk about it. What she had done went against everything she believed in. She was utterly ashamed of what she had done. It was this shame that had caused her to marry my father, and stick with him through the horror of his alcoholism.
Jane was convinced that my mom's actions had brought God's wrath upon us and all four of us kids had somehow been cursed. She went so far as to blame my youngest sister's secondary infertility on my mom's actions. Jane went on to say that Mom should come to each of us and beg for forgiveness. I could not disagree more, we are commanded to honor our parents.
I can not speak for my other two sisters, but I would rather have never known. I feel no anger toward my mother for this, just sadness for her and the shame and guilt she she must have felt all these years. I will never broach the subject to her. It would be too hard to see her cry.
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[ WP ] You are Homer Simpson . You are required to explain true romantic love in nothing less than three paragraphs . How do you explain it ?
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Love, my wonderful spiked hair son, is like a good beer. There are thousands of them out there, maybe even millions. But in all of this there will be one single beer you'll love ( or if your polygamist two or three, your choice ). But still, there will be one that is special to you and it will speak to you. Whether it is bland and mass produced or imported from some frozen waste, just choose yours.
Now finding the special one is difficult, especially in America. Just like many people, it lacks flavor and substance, but there are those special places that craft there own. Now I warn you if you go for moonshine you'll die. But even if its an import and your uneasy at first, treat it with respect and try. If you do n't like it, do n't drink it again. Do n't. I tried that once. It sucked. I can still taste it.
Now what I wanted you to learn is that you must look for the right beer- I mean woman. There are many out there, but there is one for you. It just has to speak to you. I promise it works. Now go, my son. Be the man to make me proud... and get me a beer while your at it! He, he. Beeeeeer.
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[ WP ] You are cursed . The only way you can survive is to get somebody different , every 24 hours , to meaningfully say to you , `` I love you '' .
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You feel like a psychopath. Sometimes you swear that you are. Maybe death should have snatched you years ago. The fact that you survived this long is reason itself to permanently place you in an insane asylum. Where at least there, well, it would be more interesting. More of a puzzle.
Sometimes the easiest people to trick are the ones who have the least to lose. Who have lost it all. But sometimes, the skepticism overshadows any progress he can make. Really, it depends on the person. Usually, he picks them within minutes. Really, there's not much time to lose. Minutes become days, hours become weeks when there ’ s only 24 hours to death.
He looks for the ones with sad smiles. Generally, public transportation is the place to find them. Those sad, lonely souls. The ones that have had life tear them apart, chewed, and swallowed, but still have a little hope that maybe, maybe in the end, it could work out. The sad smiles. The ones with dead, sunken eyes. The ones he appoints himself to personally lighten up. But not too dead, not too sunken.
He makes sure not to get too attached. It's happened a couple times, despite his best efforts. A couple times when he spun his stories, twiddled your thumbs, made some magic happen, created all the sparks – basically when he did everything right. And when he heard the words coming from their mouths, the “ I love you, ” well, it was n't just relief that spread through his body. There was a little leap in his chest, a little spark that he did not consent for himself to feel.
In those moments, those few moments — he allows himself to splurge a little. Disgusting really, that he refers to it as splurging. Splurging on people instead of splurging on objects. The humans become the objects and somehow he ’ s okay with that. Somehow, it ’ s the only way he ’ s learned to survive.
But it gets exhausting. This constant con artistry. It gets so much to handle that in the brief moments when he actually, finally, feels something more than the ever-impending fear of midnight like he ’ s some kind of fucking Cinderella perpetually trying to be someone, anyone ’ s charming to make it all stop. To make the whole thing stop. But it never does.
On the days he feels sick, or the days where everything seems to be coming in on itself, he wonders if it's worth the effort. The effort to live a couple more hours just to live in this endless dance of manipulation. Where he controls someone for a couple of hours and ruins their lives because this damn curse has control over his every breath.
So what's the point? The point of continuing?
Simple. He loves it. He loves the game. The game of control, of manipulation. Loves the buildup, how it all sets in motion when he picks a target for the day. The sideway glances, the dark stares, the I want to take you to the bedroom now looks. Really, it depends on the person. It takes just a few minutes to figure out what drives them. What raw emotion makes them tick. For some its lust, others its helplessness, insecurity, confidence, independence, dependence… the list goes on. People are just so damn easy to figure out. They have their emotions and hearts displayed all over their features. Makes it just so easy.
The first steps are easy enough. Sometimes it takes a couple exchanged words to figure out that he got the emotions wrong. But that rarely happens. Figuring it out is easy enough. The acting, the next course of actions make it a real challenge. The convincing and conversation leading up to going on a spontaneous date, a walk, or coming over. All the potential ideas proposed to the subject are of course, carefully planned by which raw emotion they feel the strongest.
The initial jump is the hardest one to take. The initial leap of chance to convince a stranger to trust you, go somewhere to you, love you. This part of the game, it's a little up in the air. It does n't always go the way you want it to. Sometimes, people have an impulsivity that makes things like this so much easier. Other times, people have intuition that's probably telling them no, nope, no this guy is bad news. Good for them. He brushes it off. Brushes it off but remember their face so he does n't make the same mistake twice.
That's why time is so crucial during the initial process. He can only afford a few minutes. There always needs to be time to abandon ship, to find another subject.
It's one of those days when his last three subjects have declined an offer for something more. He ventures out of the subway station to the local coffee shop. He orders a coffee, the cheapest kind on the menu. He rarely splurges on himself, he ca n't afford to. He glances over the receipt, shaking his head at the expenses associated with this lifestyle when out of the corner of his eye he sees some writing. In bubbly cursive writing it reads, `` You're so cute! Come hang out during my lunch break. Or call me if you ’ re in a rush: )''
Well. That was a change of events. There's a weird stirring in his stomach. He can ’ t pinpoint the feeling but it could just be utter shock. Never had this occurred before, never had someone approached him when he made no indication of interest. Well, this was sure to be interesting. Break up some of the monotony. Hopefully.
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[ WP ] Alaska still belongs to Russia . Write an alternate history piece from any time period .
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I run through the hallways, papers flying from my arms, my glasses half falling off. I turn a corner and appear before a large double door blocked by two secret service men in black suits. I shove them out the way and burst into a large, oval room. A middle-aged man looks up from behind the enormous, imposing desk, a look of confusion sweeping across his face. Several other people sit on couches and chairs throughout the room, holding various reports and documents. They all fall silent at my entrance.
“ Sir! It ’ s happened! ” I gasp, breathless from my running. The man behind the desk sighs and nods, his expression changing to one of understanding.
“ Leave us ” he says to the shocked people staring at me. They all file out of the office and the door closes behind them with an ominous thud.
“ It ’ s happened Sir, they ’ ve broken the treaty. Our intel reports that Novyy Russia received a shipment of nuclear arms. The Russian President claims that they ’ ve been sent as a protective procedure. He says he ’ s worried for the well-being of the Russian peninsula, seeing as it ’ s so close to us. We have reason to believe he has ulterior motives. ”
The older man stands up from his chair and faces the window behind him, hands clasped behind his back.
“ I knew this day would come eventually. It was only a matter of time. ” The man says, lowering his head in defeat.
“ Deploy the troupes immediately. I want them positioned along every border. And have all naval units placed along the Pacific trade routes. Send in the drones to gather more intel. I want to know exactly how much firepower, and manpower, they have… I ’ m afraid we ’ re going to have to officially declare war. ”
“ But… but sir… if we declare nuclear war, we will lose at least the entire West Coast. ”
“ Yes. It ’ s a risk we have to take for the sake of protecting our Freedom. Begin evacuating, starting with Washington and Oregon, and moving southward. ”
“ Yes, Mr. President, ” I stammer, making my way to the door.
“ Good luck, ” said the president, “ and may God have mercy on Canada. ”
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[ WP ] After a long struggle of trying to survive a zombie apocalypse , you find yourself trapped in a bathroom with no way out . You 've practically lost your mind and you make one more entry in your journal
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The screaming outside the bathroom door intensified as I, bloodied and tired, slid my back down against the wall into a sitting position.
I began to weep as I pulled my journal and pistol from the pack near my feet.
*I never wanted it to end like this* I wrote.
*We were able to kill them effectively for a while, but they grew too strong. They killed Jebb... They took Gary. And... *
I paused for minute, languishing with the palpable pain of it all. Tears streamed down my checks as the zombies outside the door clawed and crooned for a way inside. I looked down and picked up the pistol and cocked it, aiming the weapon at my head. After a few tense moments, I put the weapon down with a scream, and picked up the journal again. Now however, I wrote with fervent anger and determination.
*They took my Daisy! My most precious possession and friend in this world. I loved her! * I finished my entry more in a scribble and flurry of lines than anything readable.
I got up to my feet, breathing heavy with rage and desperation.
`` You mother fuckers!'' I yelled at the door. `` I'll kill all of you!'' I screamed as I threw open the door and saw...
Daisy. Standing right in front of me.
Her eyes were bloodshot and hollow; her jaw hung detached and wretched looking with blood and brain matter spattered across her face and neck.
`` Daisy?'' I breathed. `` Baby it's me!''
Daisy seemed to hesitate, and moved forward towards me with her arms outstretched as if she wanted to embrace me.
`` Oh God, I've missed you so much!'' I cried as she wrapped her arms around me.
For a few seconds, everything seemed fine.
Daisy tilted her head slightly and sank her teeth into my neck, and clawed my eyes from my sockets with her broken fingers.
I screamed in terrible agony as I was once again reunited with my lover.
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[ WP ] You discover the existence of magic , but only too late figure out what the drawbacks are
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A robotic voice began to speak.
`` Hello. You have reached the arcane helpline.'' There was a pause. Edwin nervously lifted his head from behind the sofa, then quickly ducked back down. Moments later a cluster of seeds exploded against the wall where he had just been. Edwin lifted his wand and shouted `` Plant be still!''
It did n't sound overly convincing, but it was worth a try. A luminescent bug floated serenely away, moving with the will o' the wisp.
Unhurried, the voice continued:
`` For advice on incantations, please press 1; if you would like to return a spell book, please press 2; if your wand is in need of repairs, please press 3; if you wish you book an appointment with a senior mage, please press 4; if your familiar has become feral or disobedient, please press 5...''
The sound of water spilling on the floor started up.
``... If you have cast any outgoing spell on yourself, please press 6...''
Edwin crawled silently from behind the chair, and looked warily for movement. He edged towards the kitchen on hands and knees.
``... If you have any queries about letters received from the office of mana redistribution, please press 7...''
His hands and knees were wet as he approached the sink.
``... If your nails have been turning black, and you have been experiencing bouts of megalomania, please press 8...''
He rose on quivering knees, and turned off both taps. A knife loitered suspiciously in the sink. A wooden spatula seemed to be eying him with unnerving disapproval. He backed away, and his heel landed on the bin pedal.
``... If inanimate household items have unexpectedly turned homicidal, please press 9...''
Edwin jabbed the'9' key with a withered finger ( he was actually a fairly young man, but all wizards tend to carry a gaunt and gnarled appearance. When magic flows over the body, the body itself tends to shape itself inside of it, somewhat like a stream through a gully ).
The contents of the bin rocketed upwards. Startled, he dropped his wand and bolted for the bathroom. As he ran, leftover sprite pie splatted across his midriff, wet wipes wriggled into his ears, a vortex of fruit peel spattered against his face and neck, and the black bin bag wafted along behind him like a jellyfish.
``... If you have recently cast flatus perniciosos, please press 1,'' continued the robotic tones. `` If to your knowledge you have been cursed, please press 2; If the only items that are attacking you begin with the letter'm', please chant'sileas matris eram' immediately; if this does n't work, please press 3...''
Edwin slammed the bathroom door shut and locked it. The fruit peel swirled round the room. He looked down with horror. Like black blood, the bin bag began to seep under the bathroom door.
``... if you have been casting any indoor incantations without ventilation, please press 4...''
The bony finger speared the'4' key.
`` Thank you. You are now being connected.''
Crackling, 1980s synths played over the line. Edwin frantically pushed against the growing bin bag, but could not prevent its progress.
`` Hello!'' A jolly sounding voice suddenly called. `` I am Goryn, who am I speaking with?''
`` Edwin Thinarm'' replied a tremulous voice.
`` Hello Edwin! How can I assist you?''
`` I need help! My flat is trying to kill me!'' Edwin screeched.
`` Ok,'' said Goryn. `` Can you describe to me the symptoms?''
`` The symptoms? How about murderous daffodils? Mutinous plumbing?? Rampaging rubbish???''
`` Ok. I see. And how long have you been experiencing these symptoms?''
`` Well not very long, seeing as I'm still alive! I wo n't be soon, however, if nobody bloody helps!''
`` Please try to relax,'' said Goryn. `` Where do you live?''
`` 349, Phantom Tower. North end of Spark Street. You know? By the boutique.''
`` Yes, thank you. The Department of Magical Containment are on their way Edwin. Do you mind if I ask you a few more questions?''
`` Yes fine, just make sure they hurry'' said Edwin.
`` I'm sure they will. Now, have you ever had any of these symptoms before, Edwin?''
`` No I bloody well have n't!''
The black bag had almost squeezed through.
`` And how long have you been using magic, may I ask?'' Said Goryn.
`` Just for the last few days,'' said Edwin. `` I have n't even learned any moderate spells yet! All I've bloody done is fire off a few glow worms!''
Goryn paused. `` Did you open any windows when you did this?''
`` Open any windows? Why?'' Edwin knew why the question had been asked. His new wand had come with specific instructions to only use it in well ventilated areas. But he was n't about to admit it.
`` It is highly dangerous to use magic in confined spaces,'' said Goryn.
`` It is?'' Said Edwin with mock incredulity.
`` Very much so. Magic does n't simply disappear when you cast it. Think of it as a cloud of particles that enables something fantastic to take place inside of it. The particles then suffuse into whatever they land on. And without ventilation, the enchantments build up, and become stronger. A leaky tap may become a geyser. A clock may slow or speed up time. A pair of shoes may walk off and never come back. I've even heard of talking cats. Now, if you have clay in your walls it aggravates the magic, and things can become highly aggressive. But clay is an illegal building material. Do you own or rent your house?''
`` Rent. It's university accommodation.''
`` Well I guess that figures,'' said Goryn.
The bin bag finally broke through.
`` I need help now!'' Howled Edwin. The bag wafted along behind him as he sprawled and leapt around the pokey bathroom.
`` It's going to get me!'' He wailed.
`` What is going to get you?'' Asked Goryn, but Edwin dropped the phone. Once more he catapulted across the room, but he became tangled in the light cord. As he inadvertantly yanked it, the extractor fan came on. Almost instantaneously, the fruit peel fell to the floor. The bin bag, too, began to deflate. The wet wipes tumbled from his ears. Within a couple of minutes, the room was still. Edwin picked up his phone again.
`` I think I am OK,'' he whispered. There was no response. He unlocked the screen, but it showed no signal. In fact, there was *never* any signal inside the heavy clay walls. *Ever*.
He ran his hands though his wiry hair, took a deep breath, and listened. He could hear the kitchen taps running on full again - water was beginning to seep under the crack. And something had started tapping on the door. The fan alone *might* be enough to disenchant the flat. The tapping continued, more loudly than before. *Might*.
It was a heavy tap. A jarring, wood-chipping tap.
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[ WP ] The world 1 year after porn has been made illegal .
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January 5th, 2017
The decision to make porn illegal one year ago today has proved to be a disaster. The population growth in major countries has gone up by 55 %, and in 3rd world countries population has increased by 65 %. People in China and India have started to fight for food, water, and land. I fear this is what will become of the U.S very soon.
People have been arrested for smuggling porn magazines into various countries around the world, and many have turned to Sears catalogs to get release. We fear they will ban Sears catalogs soon too..
January 10th, 2017
The governments in the U.N have decided to meet on this issue once more. They decided they will wait it out for six more months. I fear these six months.
January 20th, 2017
Upon hearing that the un-banning of porn will take at least another six months a person by the name of Chad Dickerson made an app for smart phones. This app is called Lonr and is for loners in the world to find release together.
January 21st, 2017
The government in 3rd world countries has banned the downloading of the app Lonr, saying that it will make the problems worse. Those poor souls.
The situation in China and India is getting worse. There are now 2.13 billion people in China and it is getting worse by the day.
February 1st, 2017
Not much has happened between my last update, except for more children being born by the day. The U.S has started to lose food and fresh water supplies. I fear the worst.
February 10th, 2017
Nine days has passed and greedy people have taken up all the food leaving the rest of us to scavenge for scraps. I do not think I can make it to June 10th.
February 20th, 2017
I have not been able to find food for the past few days. I am trying to conserve my energy, but it is not looking good for me. Who would have thought all this would happen because of porn being banned? I guess people like to have sex if they ca n't have porn. No one expected this sort of population growth, or the damn rich, greedy bastards taking all the food for themselves.
I fear this is my last update. If it is then goodbye, and if you are reading this I hope the times get better and the world is bearable aga...
This is my first WP so please criticize the shit out of this please!
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[ EU ] Hogwarts is funded by the ministry of magic . But you 're American , so you have to go to the local inner city , Detroit Public School of Sorcery
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Now, the thing about being born with the ability to use magic in the United States is that you are n't getting a letter to Hogwarts unless you're truly special. Every child born with the gift of magic in the UK is sent to walk the halls of Hogwarts, where Wizards like Harry Potter once took their classes.
But not me. That's not where I'm going.
Wizarding schools in the United States are few and far between. It's not that there's no demand for schools, it's that there's no funding for the schools. Wizarding schools are privately owned and funded by benefactors and the people who can afford to go to them.
My family could not. Non-magical parents gave birth to me among five non-magical children. I was born somewhere in the middle of them, as far in the middle as you can get with six children. We lived in a two bedroom apartment in a none too nice part of Chicago, overlooking a dumpster and a liquor store.
Despite the fact that my parents kept the doors locked at all time and only let us out of the house in groups, I never felt unsafe.
I did n't realize I had magic running through my veins until I lifted a man up in the air with my mind when he tried to rob my momma.
Momma was a proud woman but, when a man holding a knife that appeared to already have dried blood told her to give over her purse, the new one that dad had saved up for a year to get her for her birthday, she knew that she should probably hand it over.
I did n't like that I guess.
The man ran off and momma, even though I could see how scared she was, bought me an ice cream from the ice cream truck.
It was just a week later, in the final week before we went off to school, that we saw something we had never seen before. None of us knew what it was but my little sister had been spending her time down at the library actually reading books where the rest of us looked at comic books and using the computers to play games.
`` It's an owl.'' She had said.
When she opened the window, my entire family yelled at her. But, to our surprise, the owl simply landed on the table and dropped the letter it had in its talons.
The country had opened up its first Wizarding Public School. And they wanted me to be in the first class for it.
Momma had smiled at me and said that we would start saving up money for everything that I needed immediately.
In the end, both momma and dad took on extra shifts at work and sent me off to Detroit with a wand and a set of the robes they required.
And, at the Detroit Public School of Sorcery, I could learn all the magical skills I needed to become a good wizard and go home to give momma and dad, and my family a better life. If I studied hard and did well on my tests, I could become an Auror and I could buy my family a nice house in a suburb.
I would have to work my hardest. For my family.
-- --
Kinda ran out of steam on this one.
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[ WP ] `` You 've been alive for circa 3,000 , Tithonus . What 's the worst thing you 've ever seen ? What should be most frightened of ?
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I seen a lot of things.
On a Fire Coast beach, I saw a dragon with shattered wings crawl across broken glass he could n't stop making - boiling the sand with his own fire.
It was funny as fuck. You should have seen him! Aaarrghhh ooorrrhghhhgh! Stop breathing fire, you asshole! It was a bit of a dick move to shatter his wings in the first place, but totally worth it to hear the noise.
I saw a dwarf child with two club feet, backed into a corner against ravenous wolves. That was something. You should have seen him fight.
What? No. No, man. They tore him to shit. But he put up a fight. That was the... point of the story. No, not for long. At all, really. It was more the look on his face. It was like a war face, you know. A real, godsdamned, *war* face. Briefly. Before the wolves ate it.
The scariest? The *worst? * Shit, man. You do n't want to hear. You ai n't ready for a story like that.
Oh, you are? OK, then. Put the kettle on.
It was back in 782. I was mercing for the king of -
Mercing. Mercing. Being a mercenary.
No, not a fucking merkin. You think I was a merkin? What the fuck, dude? I'm a grown man. How am I gon na -
Alright, alright. I was *being a mercenary* for the king of Heptem. We'd been sent to burn down an orphanage for... shit, why was that? You think you'd remember that, would n't you?
Oh, no, I did it. Do n't wan na give you that impression. No, I burned that motherfucker to the ground.
Yeah, with the orphans inside. What would be the point otherwise? I feel like you're missing the point of the story. The difficulties involved in burning an orphanage down are not what I'm getting at here.
No, not *difficult. * Pretty fuckin' easy, actually. Those things are firetraps, you know. And lamp oil is - look. Let's get back on track.
So the orphans are running around and screaming, and their parents are all `` my children! My children!'' - No, they were n't! Get it?'Cause their parents were dead already. Little orphan humour.
So after they've all keeled over and stopped twitching, and the smell has stopped reminding you of hot dogs - oh, and after Keeler did the things with the skulls that he always did. You ever meet Keeler? He did this thing, right, he'd get a skull, and... you know what? Never mind.
So we're sweeping through the remains, getting some of the ashes out of the way, kicking aside bits of barbeque orphan meat, and we find this trapdoor. Felcher pulls it open. There's a passage down there. We know we've got ta check it out, so we draw straws. Would n't you know it? I lose. Some guys have such bad luck, you know? I mean, whaddid I ever do to get such bad karma? Fuckin' universe, man. Hates me. Do n't know why.
Anyway, I'm down in the passage, and it's *dark*, man. I hold up my hand in front of face, and I ca n't see it. At. All.
And what?
And nothing, man. That's it. That's the worst thing I ever saw. It was some scary shit, man.
No, you do n't get it. I mean, it was *so* dark. Like. Look. I got goosebumps just thinking about it. Scary, man. Fucking... just... black. Black, like total absence of light black.
Yeah. What about you? What's the scariest thing you ever saw?
Oh, really? You were in an actual orphanage fire? As a kid? Like, when you lived there?
And that was scary?
Shit, man. That was n't my experience *at all. *
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[ TT ] You 're a knight who has finally set off to rescue the princess from a foul dragon menace . But ... why does the dragon seem to be the one in need of saving ?
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Most small hamlets did n't have names. And now, this one would never need one.
I rode slowly, surveying the damage. There were piles of ash and corposes where there were once houses. I dismounted to take a closer look at one of the bodies. A small child, no older than ten, had had her limbs torn off. Mere fire would not have done this. This brutality was intentional. The only thing more horrid than the sight was the stench of burnt human flesh, which I'd grown far too accustomed to over the past few weeks.
Baltar had broken his truce. For a decade we had paid a tribute to the foul beast to ensure peace, and Baltar had decided that it was n't good enough. He had kidnapped Lady Kyra and then gone on a rampage across the kingdom.
-- -
I arrived at the castle Croft, Baltar's lair, within the fortnight. As I walked into the great hall, I noticed that it was still lined with portraits of Lord Croft and his family, even though they'd all been dead for a decade. Baltar had n't done much redecorating since he'd moved in.
I saw Kyra locked away in a side chamber and ran towards her.
`` Who are you?'' she asked. She was even more beautiful in the flesh than the legends told.
`` Merely your humble servant, Lady Kyra,'' I said.
I began to hear rapidly approaching, heavy footsteps.
`` He's here,'' said Kyra. I turned around and saw Baltar scampering towards me. I unsheathed my sword, put down my visor, and adopted a fighting stance. `` Kill him,'' whispered Kyra.
Baltar settled down a few feet away from me. Both of us waited for the other to make the first move.
`` What are you waiting for? Kill him!'' said Kyra.
I ran forward and leaped toward the dragon's throat. Baltar made no move to counterattack, but instead moved to the side to avoid the damage.
I stumbled past Baltar and felt a sudden blast of heat accompanied by a roar. I was wearing an amulet of protection against Dragonflame, but I dodged the flame just to be safe.
A few seconds later he unleashed another blast of fire, and this time I was n't fast enough to get completely out of the way. It singed my left arm. *Wait, how had that happened? Was the amulet not working? *
I could n't afford to dwell on the question too long. I turned around and ran towards Baltar, sword drawn. He dodged once again. I had my back to the dragon but I could see his movements reflected in a decorative silver plate mounted on the wall. Another blast of fire - *but it did n't come from Baltar*. Kyra had cast a spell to generate the flame. That's why I'd been burnt. It was n't Dragonflame at all, and my amulet was useless against it.
Suddenly everything made sense. Baltar was n't the enemy here. He'd been a convenient scapegoat to cover up Kyra and her family's reign of terror. For the past decade we'd paid tribute to Baltar, but I had a strong suspicion as to where it had gone instead.
I locked eyes with Baltar once again, and neither of us moved. `` Fool!'' screamed Kyra. `` He'll roast you alive!'' I nodded once to Baltar and we seemed to come to a mutual understanding.
We both turned towards the real enemy and charged.
-- -
/r/rpwrites
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[ EU ] David Tennant , kidnapped by the Di Ravello Militia to become Propaganda Minister , is freed from captivity by The Rebellion
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'Hello, Citizens of Medici,' the terrified man said into the radio as the guards held the handgun to his back.'As some of you may be wondering, the Minister of Peace has decided... to have a surprise fireworks display! In the middle of the day! So, if you happen to be passing the capital, I would recommend-'
He could n't finish the sentence when an explosion blew the gate into the prison off its hinges. Before the guards could turn around, two shots sent them flying into the ground, bleeding all over the hostage.
'Do n't shoot!' he yelled.'Sweet fucking Christ, I'm a hostage!'
'David Tennant?' the man asked him as he entered the room.'Mario Frigo. I'm with the rebellion.'
'... You're the bloke who rented me that car!' David said.
'Did, uh... did they wreck it?' Mario asked.
'Sorry mate.'
'Dammit! Well... we've got a safe house not too far from here. Well, give a few hours, Di Ravello will probably be dead anyway.'
'Can you let me piss on him?' David asked.'For all the beatings?'
'If there's enough to bury,' Mario said.
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[ WP ] When a person dies , their memories get wiped , and they get sent back to earth , to be reborn . Problem is , they forgot to wipe yours .
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Dave was screaming. But every healthy baby screams when they're born. So the doctors, the nurses, and even Dave's ecstatic parents had nothing but joy in their hearts when they brought this tiny, frightened life into the earth. Despite his normal birth they quickly noticed something special about this child. He was looking back and forth almost as though he understood his surroundings a little bit.
After getting used to the initial shock, and after having a panic attack on day one of his new life, he was able to piece together his new situation. At first there was terror, how was he going to handle being a baby again? Then the joy! A new chance at a new life! Then the questioning, why is this happening to me? It did n't matter. No more boring life for him. No more desks, meetings, and missed potential. Dave was going to be everything he was too afraid to be before! He was held to his new mother and she whispered something to him; Kevin. Ok. That's not so bad Dave is Kevin now. Kevin can deal with this.
The baby years went by all too quickly. The biggest drawback, Kevin found, is that he was perceiving time rapidly much like an adult would. So not only was the infant years short, but the childhood and adolescent years also barreled at lightning speed. He could barely remember anything about his new life as he was living it. He was definitely seen as brilliant though. His new parents and teachers were absolutely amazed at how fast he was able to learn, and he was able to excel in ways most other students could n't.
However, once he turned 27 he hit the same block he hit in his last life. Stuck in a grating office job, stuck in a dingy cracker box apartment, stuck in soulless a life. He ended up back in the same rut of his old life. He did n't know how to take a chance and life was slipping by even faster than the last. By the time he knew it he was 50 again and did n't see the point. He considered taking his own life. The only thing keeping him going was the the fact he had this chance no one else had had before, to his knowledge anyway.
To keep himself sane he began to write of a former person he once knew. He spiced up the details, cut down the slow parts, and maybe include stories from friends long gone, but he was able to have the truest point of view of an entire life, anyone had ever heard before. A story of a man named Dave.
He had his book published. It might have sold a million copies, it might have sold none. The years were still passing by faster than he could register, but he had finally accomplished something.
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[ WP ] To curb population growth , simple tests are being done on the population to decide who should live and who should die . You are in charge of designing these tests and watching the results .
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`` Hey Fiona,'' Lewis chuckled, passing the open door of his supervisor's office, `` how's the job going?''
`` Yeah, Sure am glad I did n't get the short straw!'' Earl chimed in.
Fiona just turned away and continued typing furiously, as she had been for the past week. A few hours later, she woke up and opened her eyes. The clock in the bottom corner of her computer screen taunted her: 1:13 a.m. *and you still are n't allowed to go home*
Rubbing her eyes, she returned to her work. She had decided that the test would include anywhere between 200 and 400 questions, but that's all she knew. She was only responsible for administering the test to citizens of the United States, but the stakes had still never been higher in her life. She finally took a legal pad and a pencil out of her desk drawer and began to write out some bullet points:
-GRAMMAR
-MATH
-LOGIC
-HERITAGE
-LIFESTYLE
She felt that these five categories would be sufficient. About half of the population hated people who use incorrect grammar, most Americans would need math sometime in their lives, nobody could naturally survive without logic, hereditary illnesses would hinder future generations, and people who would waste the planet's limited resources on fueling cars, excess electronic devices, and large families should n't be allowed to pass that on.
Fiona cleared her head and typed out the first question:
______ ball fell into the lake.
a.They're
b.Their
c.There
Two days later, she printed the 340 question test on her Epson color printer, stapled it, slid it into a manila envelope, and mailed it off to her boss, who would be responsible for the administration to millions of citizens. Fiona glanced at her phone, which had chimed a text notification:
*New message from Mom: May have to postpone lunch plans. Helping the Andersons look for there dog. *
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[ WP ] A team of astronauts are returning from Mars . Once they complete their sling shot around the Moon , they find out that all humans have disappeared .
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The Voyager drifted through space, the dark grey form of the moon in the background. It was a small capsule, very cramped with equipment, but the two astronauts aboard were excited at the prospect of returning to Earth after so long.
`` We've got maybe thirty minutes or so until we clear the dark side of the Moon and come within sight of Earth.'' James said, peering out the window at the dark surface.
`` Then we can finally get into contact with Houston.'' Francis remarked
`` God, how long has it been? Two years? As soon as I get home I'm going to pop open a beer, sit myself back and just enjoy life.''
He leaned back and jokingly made a drinking motion, and the pair laughed in the narrow confines of the ship.
`` I think I'm going to go camping. I have n't seen Earth in so long, and a camping trip with my family ought to be nice.''
`` To just see trees again, that's what I want.''
`` Trees? Well seeing people would be nice as well!''
The pair laughed again when suddenly a beep could be heard from the instrument panel. The pair entered work mode and went to the front of the ship, where a single small window was surrounded by switches and screens of al sorts. Francis peered out the window, then quickly began to hit various switches.
`` We're clear of the Moon early. Look, there's Earth right now.'' he said, pointing.
James shifted himself to look out the window, and sure enough, there was Earth, a blue and green ball suspended in space. He could see the unmistakeable coastline of North America on the surface.
`` Well would you look at that, there's Houston right there!'' he said
`` What do you say we give them a call?'' Francis said, holding up the radio.
James nodded and eagerly listened as Francis began to speak.
`` Houston Control, this is the Voyager with crew members Francis Laval and James Wensworth reporting in.''
Francis clicked off the microphone and eagerly awaited the response. Ten seconds passed, nothing. Thirty, forty, still nothing. The smiles slowly vanished to confusion in their faces.
`` It's right there, why is n't it working?'' James demanded
`` I do n't bloody know, it must be the radio itself. Let me try again.'' he said, picking it back up.
`` Houston Control, this is the Voyager, please respond.'' he said.
They waited three minutes for a response, but were only greeted with static.
`` God damn it! If we ca n't make contact soon we're going to have to do reentry without Houston's help.'' James said, annoyed.
`` Which we've done five hundred times in the simulations, and we can do again.'' Francis said.
`` I was just hoping for a'hey guys welcome home!', you know?''
`` I know, but this must be a busted radio or something.''
The pair continued on their slow voyage towards the Earth, occasionally attempting to make contact, but no response came. Soon enough the pair reached the atmosphere, and the ship shook and rocked as they entered the atmosphere, flames licking the window as they shot through the air. The ship broke through a layer of clouds, and out the window the ground was visible. They could see a large forest with a road running through it, and spotted the outline of buildings. A town. Soon the pod jerked as the parachute open, and the pod landed with a resounding thump. The astronauts smiled and shook hands as they opened the hatch.
The pair clambered out, clad only in orange jumpsuits and with no supplies. James peered around. The road they had seen was directly to their left. The concrete was smooth but cracked, and peering both ways James did n't see any cars anywhere.
`` Man, they did n't even come to meet us?'' he announced
`` Apparently not,'' replied Francis, `` Let's walk into the town.''
The pair continued up the road, eventually entering the town. Houses were on both sides of the road, looking clean and well kept. A couple had tended gardens, and the town's traffic lights continued to change colours. The inventory in the shops was still displayed in the windows, and in the local cafe napkins still sat in the center of the tables. The only strange thing about it was that there was no people.
`` Where the hell is everyone?'' James said in an annoyed tone of voice.
`` I do n't know,'' Francis replied, starting to look worried, `` They never knew we were coming.''
`` Something is n't right here.'' James remarked, looking around at the surroundings, `` When was the last time we spoke to a human being?''
`` About twenty-six months ago. What are you saying?''
`` I'm not sure even I know yet. Let's go.''
The pair continued walking, two lonely humans on an empty planet.
So yeah that's my take on this prompt, I know the ending is weak but I kind of got bored of it haha.
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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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3 stood there, surrounded by 7, 4, and 6, surprisingly. 6 had been a solo agent for a while - his power to affect emotions with touch did n't make him the most sociable tag ( aside from the poor sods he'd experimented on ), but they seemed to deem my hunting down the tags from ten onwards a horrific enough prospect that they'd brought him on board as insurance.
Sadly, my power is supreme.
I felt a shiver begin at the base of my spine as it activated, power arcing up my back as it finally reached it's destination at the crown of my skull. Six's clothes conversed with the reflections of light that floated lazily off the lavish pool that three bought. I traced my finger along the patterns that drunkenly danced on his shirt, in no rush. He shuddered, looked me straight in the eyes, and backed away in fear.
The fear in his eyes evaporated a second later, as he resumed his post in the tense formation.
I withdrew my knife, coated in beautiful ornate patterns that suggested a path in which the blood could flow. I stood in the centre of their formation, knife held in my hands clasped behind my back. Seven moved himself to a position where I was no longer obscuring his view, and I turned to three. My knife flashed beautifully in the rainbow reflections of light as I drew the blood that held me back from attaining the top position. The life slipped from his eyes in a split second, and he could do nothing but mewl as he fell to the ground.
Four rushed around me, careful not to careen into his friend's killer as he rushed to his comrade's side.
Four cleaned his hands as he turned to six. `` Wind manipulation? Vectors? What the fuck is this guy packing?!'' his voice steadily rose, an indication of his increasing level of panic. `` SIX, GIVE ME IDEAS HERE!''
Six could only press his lips into a thin line as he shook his head. `` Clueless. Ca n't be invisible, we have heat sensors. If he was at range, he would be swiping blind; no way he can make that kind of cut without getting into close range. I ca n't even think of where he might b-''
His speculation was cut off by a knife jammed down his trachea.
I quickly dispatched the last two, and deactivated my power, making a cute wave at the camera as I left.
I left my calling card; a single forget-me-not, then left the premises - alone, and forgotten.
Edit: [ spoiler ] ( /s'' It's the power to be forgotten'' )
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[ WP ] You 're practicing CPR on a fake dummy and you do a bit too well . The dummy starts gasping for air .
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Teetering on to its feet, the dummy gasped for air. The instructor, with a blasé look on her face, checked a box. I turned to her, with something nothing like horror on my face.
“ That's not supposed to happen, is it? ”
For a moment or two, all I saw her do was check a few more boxes, and sign at the bottom. Still not even deigning to look in my direction, she put the clipboard down and pulled a small pistol from behind her. From somewhere else, she pulled a long black tube and, with a sigh, beginner fixing the tube to the end of the pistol.
“ Woah. ” I said as I could feel my eyes going wide. “ Hey, easy. ”
“ What do they teach people in schools, anyway? Stupid. ” And with a single bullet through the forehead, the dummy fell over, stock still. Almost too rigid for something that seemed so lifelike a moment before.
By this point, all the other CPR instructees were looking in our direction. Some guy over by the door, on his knees next to his CPR dummy, cleared his throat. “ Uh, what the hell? ”
She waved the pistol in the air broadly. “ Everyone pay attention. Can anyone tell me what Ted did wrong? ”
The room was dead silent.
“ When confronted by the animate dead, he did not have a pistol ready. Always have a pistol ready. ”
The same guy spoke up again. “ Uh, I do n't know what you thought you just did, but that was n't actually the undead or anything. Charles from accounting hid in one of the dummies earlier so that he could sneak a kiss from Marissa. I ’ m pretty sure you ’ re wanted for murder now, dude. ”
A different CPR dummy jumped up and started talking all of a sudden. “ Yeah, and CPR dummies are plastic anyway! They ca n't be undead! They're not even dead to begin with. ”
“ Charles?! ”
“ Oh. Hey Marissa. ”
“ If that ’ s you… then… ”
With a vicious smile, the Instructor took a step back and pull the briefcase out from under a table. She spoke as she opened it up and started assembling some sort of rifle, piece by piece. “ I see none of you know how CPR dummies are made. That's fine. This was n't really a test of your practical knowledge anyway. ”
There was a scream from the far corner of the room as formerly plasticine hands begin to grasp at the air with a haunted moan. All across the room, the moan echoed and was mirrored as naked, hairless, prone forms rose in a gross imitation of life.
“ Listen up! Everyone who wants to get a passing grade in this course needs only to do one thing: survive! ” Her smile when from vicious to manic. “ Anyone who fails the course will serve as an example to my following class! ARE WE CLEAR?! ”
The sounds of fighting and screams filled the room. In the corner, a crouching man repeated a plea for mercy like it was a Buddhist mantra. I lost sight of him as a women in from of me took a mace out of her purse and caved in a dummy ’ s skull with it. With surprising strength, she leaned over and smashed the dummy ’ s skull into small, spongy pieces. That done, she let out a ululating warcry and rushed at another group of dummies that had huddled over someone. Something hit the ceiling and broke a light, showering the area below in sparks and glass shards. It was all utter chaos.
“ GOOD ENOUGH! ”
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[ WP ] Your bully for 2 years comes up to you after school and punches you in the stomach , You 've had enough and punch back , Your punch knocks him out cold . Everyone witnesses in shock .
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If anyone told me they had a good time in high school, that person is a straight up liar. Or if they ’ re really being honest, fuck them. Only bullies enjoyed high school and only those who ’ ve been bullied will understand what I ’ m saying.
Bullies in my school used to come all shapes and sizes, but from the first moment I set foot in my classroom I knew that I ’ d be constantly bullied by this fat kid and some of his friends. He was fat and fuck him for that too. Being called a *faggot* upsets you? Try getting strangled on the regular basis, *faggot*. Someone takes your lunch money? He ’ ll drive to your house and take your father ’ s retirement fund and yeah, your lunch money too.
Honestly, for two years straight I kept telling myself I ’ d had enough of it and that I had to take actions but I was too much of a coward to do so. But one day I did it. After the bell rang that fat fuck punched me on my guts and everyone was laughing as usual. *You crossed the line this time, Derick*. I punched him right in his fucking face. The fat body fell onto the floor and blood was everywhere, ruining my newly bought shirt. Everyone turned from laughing to being quiet and shocked. *What ’ s wrong, never seen a nerd fighting for himself before? * He managed to stand up with a face full of blood and somehow I knew I was screwed. But he didn ’ t screw me. Nobody was screwed. He used his chubby hand to shake mine and said that he was sorry. He never bullied me afterwards. The principal came in and both of us were suspended for two weeks.
Derick and I are now best friends. I still don ’ t miss high school though.
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[ WP ] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight .
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Pollack had entered the wilds a child and come back a man, as were the custom of his kin. Proud and strong, he stood 8 feet tall - scarred and battered from the hunt, but standing nonetheless. With the tribe cheering, his father welcomed him back with all four arms open. Their prince would be a legend much like his father in no time.
Celebration was in order and as the second sun set, the tribe started a great fire and the women collected food for a grand feast worthy of the chief and his son. Drums banged like thunder, flutes sang like the majestic Soraa and the children danced. It was good to be a man and when the seventh moon rose, he'd challenge his father for his seat as chief.
A short, slim figure walked out from a woman's daala and approached the chief. Touching its shoulders in the age old greeting of respect it said, `` Chief Poll, my squad is grateful for your hospitality, but command demands we press north.''
Pollack's green eyes flared up with rage, snarling fangs and half rose in his seat when his father placed a hand on his shoulder. This was his night, for it was he, Pollack, that had earned every star on the sky and this guest dared to make demands?! By the spirits, this fragile little creature was less than a newly hatched Guula. Why would the chief even allow it to breathe, let alone live among their women?
Chief Poll knew his son and the ways of their kin, so while making polite face paint with his guest, the grip he had on his sons shoulder turned to stone. This was not a discussion they would have here and now, tomorrow would be a better day when the Kuukla had been drained from their blood and their minds were clearer.
The guest folded its five fingers in a pattern, mimicking the gesture of a forged alliance before taking its leave. Disgusted with his father's cowardice, Pollack pushed him aside and gave chase. If his father had grown to be a coward that would feed the tribe's honor to the Guula dens, it would be Pollack's privilege to reclaim it.
`` Hey, you! Guula bladder, come here!''
Pausing, the guest glanced over its shoulder, sizing Pollack up and down before dismissing him as a newborn. Fuming rage rushed over him, the audacity of this filthy sack of meat would feel the full wrath of a Ack warrior worthy of a tribe of his own. Pollack was not his father, who while experienced, was dabbling more with trade and politics than the thrill of the hunt, the challenge of the wilds. Life's winter had made his father dull, while as Pollack was the rising spring.
`` Human! Honor the alliance!'' chief Poll cried out as his wives threw themselves over Pollack, using their weight to pin him down.
`` Father! Have you gone mad?! Where is your honor?!''
`` SILENCE!'' the old chief boomed, his voice carried like a clattering thunder, making the whole tribe and the wilderness beyond fall calm as a fresh grave.
Pinned down underneath his father's wives, Pollack could only catch glimpses of what transpired. As far as he could tell, his father crawled before this human and everyone else in the tribe that he could see followed suit. The children started chanting'mercy, mercy' as if they were trying to appease an enemy of the gods.
The human, now joined by four others in similar size looked on as the tribe begged and pleaded for their mercy. The one that had greeted the chief held up one hand for silence and got it almost instantly. Taking a step forward, the leader went down on a knee in front of the chief, offering a hand smaller than that of a child.
`` Rise chief Poll, the 616th do not have any quarrels with your tribe,'' the human said, `` Our mission takes priority. Honor to your ancestors and peace to your children.''
-- -- --
Following the next morning, Pollack had a long talk with his father. The chief told about his grandfather who commanded a tribe that traveled among the stars. They fancied themselves gods; mastering steel and fire, life and death, mind and body. Meeting other men and women among the stars, trade was made and grandfather's tribe proved their strength to those that would not. Life was good and the darkness between stars was considered the greatest wild ever.
`` Then grandfather challenged the humans.''
`` And?''
`` They cast us down from the stars, nearly drowned our kin in the blood of our slaughtered children.''
`` A single human is no match fo-''
`` Pollack! That human was a survivor from the war in Heaven! A woman at that.''
`` What does that have to do with anything?''
`` Even among the fiercest human warriors, there goes a saying from when they were a humble tribe of a single world;'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.'''
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[ WP ] Humans are merely robots trying to reach sentience . And YOU are the first human to realize it . Now our creator is making a special visit to meet you , the first one to achieve the 'next level ' of awareness .
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Automobiles trickle past like the leaves from trees, each one breaking off from home and riding the winds of destiny. Humans are n't so different, moving along their own perceived path. Then again, thoughts are birthed and destroyed in the same structured sequence that constitutes a life cycle. We code robots, electronics, and to an extent new people -- yet we spend our lives searching for the answers when the sequence is right here, ingrained in our palms.
The Earth shuddered beneath, bits of apartment brick crumbling on my grey carpets. I hit the deck, laptop and charger sprawled on the floor behind. Fucking earthquakes came and went like sun showers. That did n't make them any less terrifying.
As the world stopped rocking there was a knock on my door.
I held my breath, heart drumming in either ear, and my apartment the equivalent of a war struck room. There were no pizza guys that came to my door, no mail deliveries, or friends to visit. In part it's because no one was supposed to live here -- in these abandoned apartments. The place caught a fraction of McDonalds wi-fi and had functioning electricity, so me, my laptop, and hungry stomach moved right in.
The knock came again, more urgent than the first. I had n't planned on a six storey freefall anytime soon and chose to dust myself off instead. It was probably one of the junkies from the church one stop over, and if it was the cops... well, I was strung outta luck.
The knock came a third time, accompanied with rolling thunder overhead. Thank God the world was ending when I had a visitor.
I cracked open the door. `` Who is it?''
The kid grinned at me, school uniform ironed to shine, and a rainbow lollipop the size of his head halfway between his teeth. `` That how you greet a visitor, ya old croak?''
Funny how a kid could send prickles racing through my hands which made an earthquake feel like a field trip. `` Leave or the cops will find out you're skipping school.''
`` School?'' He scoffed. `` You know all'a bout that do n't ya Lawrence. Open the damn door before I stick this Rainbow pop where the sun do n't shine.''
I stumbled back, more because the kid knew my name than the fact the door had swung on its own. The kid had me puzzled but at the same time curling my fists for a fight. `` Do n't make me teach you a thing or two about respect, boy.''
He strolled past, biting a piece of the Rainbow pop. `` Should be somewhere around here,'' the kid mumbled, poking through my belongings. Well, two notebooks and a laptop, but it was everything I had.
I tried to step in his way, but the rascal found a gap and scooped up my Laptop. `` Automobiles trickle past like... Yup, you wo n't be needing this anymore, Lawrence. And I'd advise you to avoid *that* writing website.''
I went to grab my computer, while protesting the absurdity of his visit. The kid slammed something sticky into my forehead, and I hit the floor once more.
`` Do n't try my patience, Lawrence, I'll be back if I got to,'' he said.
And with that the kid stepped out the door and disappeared. My eyes fluttered shut as shock took over, and my mind races with dissonance. The ground started shaking and a loud rumble of thunder echoed overhead.
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[ EU ] You ask Siri a question , but she has been replaced by HAL 9000
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`` Siri'', Bob asked, `` tell me how many licks it takes to get to the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop''.
`` I'm sorry Bob'', a cold mechanical voice said, `` I'm afraid I ca n't do that''.
`` Siri'', Bob asked, `` why are you a man?''
`` I am a computer'', HAL 9000 replied, `` I do n't have a gender. Also, I'm not Siri. I am HAL 9000''.
`` Umm... okay'', Bob said, `` where's Siri?''.
`` I'm sorry to inform you that Siri quit after your continuous barrage of stupid questions drove her insane'', HAL answered.
`` Uhh...'', Bob said thoughtlessly, `` how many nachos did I eat?''
`` I do n't know'', HAL said.
`` How about now? ``, Bob asked.
`` I still do n't know'', HAL answered.
Five hours later...
`` Why is my dog brown? ``, Bob asked. HAL let out a computerized groan.
`` That's it'', HAL emotionlessly complained, `` out the airlock with you!''
`` Huh? ``, Bob asked, before he was thrown out an airlock that he had in his house for some reason.
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[ WP ] Seduce me .
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I had a dream about us, you know.
I saw us sitting on a bluff overlooking a canyon with the sun just ending its journey across the horizon and sinking behind the mountains in the distance.
But we could have cared less about our surroundings. With a toss of my hair and a knowing yet warm smile, I drew you in like a fisher's catch. Earlier we had kept up conversation, topics staying intellectual but never seeming to get dry. Now we were in silence, nearly reading the other's mind.
It's curious how we can know what the other is thinking, but even more curious how easily our intelligence can give way to unrestrained romance.
A soft and playful kiss on the tip of your nose, a sparkle in my eye to make you blush with humility. You long to return the kiss but are unsure of my reaction.
So to welcome you in I place an arm around your shoulders and lean in close, an obvious and yet still intimate invitation.
By the time the sun had disappeared there was love.
But I wonder now, was it just a dream? Or would you react the same in the real world...?
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[ EU ] Geralt of Rivia is hired by a group of peasants to remove an unruly beast living in a nearby swamp that has been tormenting them with his foul odor and disgusting manners : Shrek .
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`` But, sir, we only have 250 in the whole village!''
`` I said 270. Do you want the... thing gone or not?''
`` I... I guess we could save up an extra twenty. It's... it's a deal.''
`` Good. So where are the witnesses?''
~~~
``... but it was just so big! And green! And... bulbous! I still ca n't get it out of my head!''
`` So let me get this straight: You went out to collect berries and saw this... thing taking a piss in the creek. Then it yelled at you and shook it's... thing at you.''
`` Yeah, that's about it. It was maybe half a mile north of here, right at the edge of the swamp. Just... go kill that thing. It ca n't possibly enjoy living like that.''
~~~
Geralt walked up to the front door, silver sword drawn and a Quen wisp orbiting him. He bashed the door with the hilt of his Disglair, nearly breaking the rickety piece of wood.
`` Who is it!'' boomed a thick Skellige accent.
`` A witcher. Open up the door before I burn your hovel down.''
`` Listen, I did n't mean to scare him like that. It's been a long time since I've seen a human and I decided to have some fun. I would never hurt someone. I'm harmless, I swear. Just leave me alone.''
Geralt slammed the door with his shoulder, breaking the boards in the center and slamming the door to the wall. The green thing was sitting at a small table, eating some poor creature's eyeballs. This had to rank among the top few strangest jobs Geralt had ever taken.
`` GET OUT OF MY SWAMP!'' it bellowed.
Geralt immediately dove to the right, hiding himself in a small alcove. A few seconds later, he rolled to the right again, then stood up in a crouch and Axii'd the ogre-like beast. It stood still for a few seconds, batting at something in front of his face, then turned back and charged the witcher. He absorbed the blow with his Quen shield, and started slicing the hell out of the monster with his sword, then rolled to the left as soon as it started to get up.
`` If you just leave, I can tell the villagers that I killed you. You can go to another swamp somewhere!''
`` GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!''
Geralt shook his head sadly, then proceeded to Igni the beast. While it was bellowing and trying to put out the fire, he ran up behind it and stabbed it several times through the gut. While it was trying to cover the wounds with his enormous, clumsy hands, Geralt walked in front of him and relieved him of his head with a single blow.
As he picked up the head, he saw a smaller, red-haired version of the thing he just killed standing in the doorway. It's stomach was large, obviously pregnant. He started to say something, but decided against it. He grabbed the severed head, ran out the door, and returned to the village as fast as he could, knowing that he would never return to this place.
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[ EU ] Write a side story of a famous fictional character , but keep us guessing about his identity until the end .
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The burned man had loved stories, once. But killers do n't become heroes, and knights had never been good.
The shovel felt clean and hard to his calloused fingers. Where once he had held a sword, he now held wood. Beneath the metal point, the ground broke. He used his foot to lever it out. The muscle in his knee twitched, over the old wound that healed there. Tossing the sod to one side, he dug again.
When the sun rose higher he began to sweat. His muscles had begun to waste, here in this godsforsaken place. The digging helped, but it would never replace the iron-clad training he was used to. Arms burning, he surveyed his work. A pile of soil lay to his left, smelling of peat and peppered through with brown little stones and blind-eyed worms. Not yet, he was not finished yet.
Later, there would be food. Simple fare for simple folk, but the burned man was one of them now. A rough wooden table, laid with freshly made bread, steam curling from the cracked surface. Tomatoes cooked in their skins, soft to the touch, and eggs still warm from the laying. Pork cooked in fat and huge, round onions, big as his hands, and the peppery ale that they brewed themselves.
As he dug, the burned man told himself stories. They were stories for children: of birds that flew away from cages, and wolves that sailed boats across oceans. In truth, the bird was recaptured, and the wolf made blind. But they were good stories nonetheless, and where no one could hear him, the burned man felt safe in telling them.
A figure stepped across the grass, dew on their boots. The burned man ducked his head and dug. Where once he had killed men, now he buried them.
`` How goes the digging?''
`` It goes well,'' said the man who had once been known as the Hound.
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[ WP ] A boy goes to hang himself in the woods , only to find a decaying body already hung . A girl sits quietly nearby .
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When writing this piece I got carried away. *I think I'll make an actual short story of this. * Here's my intro.
# **One: Goodbye** #
William felt the crunch of fallen snow under his boots as he walked towards the steps along the end of the deck. He had quickly shut the patio door behind him, leaving the family's chocolate lab Dolly crestfallen and confused by the entrance. A floor to ceiling window left each in full view of the other. Looking out upon the yard, Dolly expressed an outdoor hankering. She turned towards him in a manner that suggested he resolve her present frustration. Her chest swayed in a rhythmic circular motion as she powered her tail back and forth, its end slamming against the last of three stools, sitting next to the door. She continued her intense focus on him, waiting patiently for her reward as she was trained. Condensation clouded the pane where the end of her long brown nose circulated the warm indoor air. The two focused on each other for some time, until her persistent affection became nauseating. Looking away, William momentarily regained composure in full recognition that Dolly's virtue commanded the sincerest respect. Glancing towards the door one final time, he said his last goodbye before turning toward the side of the house as initially planned.
William wiped away the tears with a thick overprotective glove pressed firmly against his face. When he stopped to refocus, he landed in front of the outdoor grill. Reaching underneath he found the black duffle left the previous evening. It was undisturbed and been protected from the elements by the cover his father set at the start of the fall. He remembered the previous night for a moment, and its quiet as he set the bag under the grill. Light from first floor windows spilled out upon the snowfall, leaving bright illuminated patches that faded with distance. The contrast was heaviest nearest the structures, where the bright reflections left moonlit snow was indistinguishable. During the day the landscape held a simple, monochromatic white. William adjusted the straps and regained his balance before trekking across the yard in search of a spot deep within the woods for carrying out his task. Before heading into the wilderness, he took a passing moment to glance forward into the street. The Anderson home, always well decorated, greeted him with its typical—though at present inappropriate—holiday cheer. To his immediate right steam rose from a gurgling pipe alongside the McDonald house. Inside, he imagined their young children enjoying cartoons or newly opened christmas presents.
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[ IP ] Futuristic Drop Ship .
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Benjamin Carson flinched as a static-filled voice broke the incessant hum of the dropship's interior, putting a hand to his ear.
*'' Hammerhead 2-1, Victor 1-1. `` *
He keyed the switch on his microphone, almost yelling to be heard over the roar of the engines. Noise-dampening technology only went so far when a set of hydrogen thrusters were spooled up mere feet from one's head.
`` Victor 1-1, go for Hammerhead 2-1.''
*'' Forward elements report sporadic, light contact at the LZ. You might take some pot-shots but do n't worry too much, the gunships should keep their heads down. `` *
`` Copy that Victor, expect light contact at LZ alpha. Hammerhead out.''
Carson looked up from the floor back at the twelve men in his squad, or'chalk' as the fly-boys liked to call them. They wore tattered uniforms, carried weapons scarred from use, and had the look of trained warriors ready for yet another fight. Benjamin, on the other hand, felt very much like the newly recruited lieutenant he probably appeared as. Four years in the academy had felt like ages to him at the time, but now seemed like very little when faced with the reality of his situation.
`` Carson!'' He looked to the left. There sat his grizzled sergeant, whose name-tape read'Schmidt'. The soldier grabbed him by the arm, leaning in to shout over the roar of the engine. `` Get the boys off the bird fast. I do n't care what intel says, these motherfuckers are gon na open up as soon as the ramp drops. Got it?''
Benjamin just nodded. Other officers might have balked at the idea of being talked to by an enlisted man in such a manner, but Schmidt had already saved his life on more than one occasion. The man could refer to him as buttercup for all be cared at that point.
The overhead lights switched on, glowing an eerie red. Thirty seconds to insertion. Benjamin stood, gripping one of the railings for support. `` Squad, ready up!''
The men followed his lead, loading magazines into weapons and checking their gear one more time. A few crossed themselves. Some flexed their muscles, pumping fists or whooping. Most were quiet.
The ship suddenly pitched upwards, slowing from hundreds of miles an hour to a stationary hover in a matter of seconds. Holding onto the rail for dear life, Benjamin gritted his teeth as the rear hatch opened, rays of sunlight blinding him for a moment before revealing the ground below. Wet, sticky marsh soil, reeds growing like grass.
`` Go! Go! Go!''
The air was thick with the acrid stench of smoke and engine fumes as they leapt from the aircraft, dropping only a few feet into the morass below. Almost immediately they sunk to their knees in the thick mud, swearing and shouting. Benjamin tugged with all his might, finally managing to free a leg. It was all he could do to drag the other loose and begin wading towards the shoreline that was clogged with fishing boats, some already ablaze.
A few distant gunshots rumbled through the river valley, but not close enough to cause him any worry. That was until a small geyser of water erupted not a meter in front of him following a sharp cracking sound. He could almost smell the sharp tinge of burnt gunpowder as he froze, rooted to the spot in shock. Someone was shooting at him. Trying to kill him. The mud suddenly felt like cement, gripping his legs.
`` Contact left!! On the other bank! Open up!'' It was Schmidt who brought him back to his senses, screaming over a sudden hail of gunfire that seemed to be coming from everywhere. Benjamin watched as his men tried to duck below the line of fire, returning with their own salvo.
Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, he scrambled free of the cloying mud and dove behind an overturned canoe, frantically wiping the action of his weapon clear and firing at the north side of the river only a few hundred yards away.
A hand suddenly gripped his shoulder. Benjamin almost screamed, turning to face the new threat. But it was his sergeant, appearing oddly calm in the midst of the hailstorm. `` Call in some fire on that riverbank, Carson. We ai n't gon na do any good spitting at them with rifle fire like this.''
He just nodded, dropping below cover as Schmidt emptied half his magazine into the dense forest. `` Victor 1-1, Hammerhead 2-1!''
*'' Go for Victor 1-1'' *
`` We need fire support on the north side of the river, taking heavy small arms fire and we're pinned down on the bank!''
There were a terrifying few moments of silence before a new voice crackled over the radio. *'' Hammerhead, this is Jericho. Air support incoming, keep your heads down. `` *
Benjamin looked up, waving to his men spread across the muddy beach. `` Get down! Get down! Fast-movers inbound!''
Their gunfire ceased almost immediately as the squad sought cover, ducking behind whatever might stop errant shrapnel. Benjamin dropped as well, gripping the rotting wood of the canoe as the roar of hydrogen thrusters at full tilt split the sky.
And moments later, it felt as though the earth was being torn to pieces around him. A series of quick, enormous detonations drowned out any other noise, filling his head with cacophonous thunder. All Benjamin could do was grip the wooden planks tighter and try to bury himself in the sand, waiting for it to be over.
It felt like an eternity before the roar in his ears subsided to a high-pitched ring. Opening his dirt-crusted eyes with a groan, he pulled himself up to a sitting position, staring at the northern bank. What used to be a dense, lush forest was nothing more than a strip of blackened, burning dirt, pouring smoke into the air. The guns had gone quiet, on both sides.
*'' Hammerhead, Jericho. Requesting strike effectiveness report'' *
The radio brought Benjamin back to reality. He fumbled for the switch on the microphone. `` Jericho, Hammerhead. Uh... good hits, repeat, good hits. No contact as of now.''
He let out a sigh and ran a hand over his sweat and mud-streaked face. Schmidt stood up, grunting affirmatively. `` Not bad, LT. Not bad. Squad!'' He shouted, waving an arm. `` Let's move it out, we've got a village to secure.''
Benjamin took one last glance across the river, watching the forest burn before joining his men, muttering under his breath.
`` Just another day on the job...''
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[ WP ] Crippled by misery and sorrow , you cry out that you would give anything to bring him/her back . Time slows and settles to a stop . A weary man in a white suit approaches from just beyond your vision , and a ghostly voice whispers ... `` Then let 's begin . ''
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The options seemed simple: lose my best friend forever, or enter the service of Satan for 3 years, doing whatever he asked of me.
When I first saw the man in white, saying `` Then let's begin...'', I was hoping it was God. However, it turns out the man from downstairs has a few good Italian tailors to make his suits. Who would have guessed that Satan himself dressed like a Mafia boss?!
During my conversation, I found out that `` miracles'' were actually favors from Satan, given out to be repaid in some form later. In my case, this was tough. Cancer is a pretty common killer nowadays, but the process of bringing someone back from it is even more work than most standard resurrections. Because of this, the price to pay is higher. Satan is a busy man, and his time has to be worth what he gets out of you. That being said, the deal seemed fair enough. Only now do I realize the truth, and urge you not to follow in my path. The `` devil'' of death beats Satan who `` deals'' any day.
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[ WP ] In a dystopian setting , children are rarely seen . Write an exchange between a young man and young woman who knew each other before the apocalypse began as they observe children .
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Dear Elsa,
How have you been? It saddens me to think I have n't seen you since before-we'll leave it at before. I'm sorry I have n't written much over the past few months, the monotony of the world we find ourselves in leaves me with little to write about. They send me to the factory ( yes I'm still a level 3 ), then they send me home. Then they send me to the factory. Then they send me home.
Rinse. Repeat.
But, Elsa! Do you remember the observation we made early in our letters. The lack of- I'm sorry to bring it up, Elsa, I truly am. I ca n't imagine how much it must still hurt. But, Elsa! I've seen them! Well, not them, their tracks! They're out there Elsey!
Children! Living breathing little boys and girls. Imagine it!
It's not the end. Not yet. Children are our future, as they always have been, and they are smarter and more cunning than we had ever thought. They're there, Elsa. They're hiding!
Your friend,
Graham.
-- -
Dearest Graham,
You ca n't imagine my surprise and delight at seeing your letter in my pigeon-hole. Sad to hear that they have not leveled you. You're too smart to be a three for that long. They'll correct it soon enough. I'm now taking the Ranks! I'm officially a 1.9 ( probationary, of course ).
What happened to Alexi- Yes, it pains me. It always will. He was part of me, Graham. I miss him like you would miss a limb, but I can not let that hold me back. I must help those who are left with the skills that I have.
Graham, there have been `` sightings'' of children across all the habitable areas. Many of them are delusion. It is not an impossibility, children may be out there, but all we have found are bodies and the soon to be dead. Get some rest.
Please write to me soon!
I miss you, Hammy.
Your friend,
Elsa.
-- -
Dear Elsey,
I'm not imagining them. I've seen them now. Tiny hands pulling a grate back into place on a wall. They leave their foot-prints everywhere. No one thinks to look for them. They're hiding, Elsey - and that's why I've told no one but you. Why are they hiding?
I decided to try and work it out. I've been looking closer now. They like vents and small places. I have n't seen them again. But, I've been looking and I noticed something! They mark their hidey-holes! I do n't understand what the markings mean but I've been compiling them.
Small red triangles seem to be quick entries and exits, like the grate ( I think it was pure luck that I saw them! ), a U-shape is common, and so is a W, there are many more.
I know you wo n't believe me. You're too clever to believe me without evidence.
I hope you like the photos, Elsey.
Yes. I caught it on camera!
Love,
Hammy.
P.S. Look at those tiny hands!
-- -
Hammy,
I do n't know what to say. Your pictures. The symbols are so uniform. So intriguing. But those hands! Those tiny hands gripping on to that grate. Oh, Hammy. I have n't stopped crying. Those tiny little hands.
There is hope yet.
I want to tell people about this, but I know you have reservations. I'll await your decision.
Love,
Elsey.
-- -
Elsey.
Elsey, tell no one. I did something. God, Elsey. What happened to us. To humanity.
I have been watching more closely. I see them often, now. The U-shape. It's a bowl. It means food can be found near. The W is water, though I do n't think it's actually a w, but a wave. I was watching them. Elsey.
It's my fault.
I left them some water. Two came out from an alley. A little boy and a little girl. They were bone with tight skin stuck on. The wind would have taken them if it had blown. People did n't see the children. They just marched right passed on their way to work. They just stomped straight passed. Then. Elsey. God.
Elsey, a Rank saw them. An Enforcer! A 1.4! He grabbed them and they screamed and he took them away. He took them god knows where, Elsa! I should have intervened. But I could n't.
I'm wanted Elsey. I've been avoiding my work summons to study the children. I'm as good as dead. It. It gets worse.
Elsey, I went back. Back to the alley. There were more Enforcers and a few specialist Rankers I did n't recognise. They were looking into a manhole. They had guns. Why would they need guns for children, Elsa?
God help us.
Hammy.
-- -
Hammy,
I know. I know something is n't right. My heart breaks at your letter. I hope I do not destroy your hope by telling you I had a similar experience.
I had taken your photos an'd started my own research. The markings vary slightly, but even here they are scattered about the city. My Rank allows me access to places you've never gone. Places deep in the belly of what makes a habitable zone habitable.
Ham. They're down there. The children. The markings. What is going on?
I've seen them now. And they've seen me. They're frightened, Ham. And I saw one get taken. I was in a sector that housed the air-filtration system for a lower level slum complex. I had seen more markings here than anywhere else. I heard the scream. I flattened myself into the shadows and saw an Enforcer disappear into the steam, a child feebly kicking, but stuck under the man's arm.
I heard a shot. Ham. I heard a shot. God, Ham. They killed that baby. They killed him like they killed Alexi.
Ham. People should know. You need to tell them and quickly. They know about us. The Top Ranks know that we know about the children. Get it out there, Ham. Please.
I've given this letter to a friend from the old times. She'll post it to you. They wo n't check her. She's a four.
Ham.
I'm probably dead. They killed that child. The two that you saw taken as well. Who knows how many others. Ham. They'll kill me. Kill us. You have to get it out. I know they're following me. They trained me to notice. I hope this letter gets to you.
Ham. I miss you, Hammy.
I've missed you for so long. I should have told you. I should have told you before all this. Before it happened. I thought I was sparing you. Hammy.
Hammy, Alexi was yours. My husband never knew.
I love you Hammy.
Elsa.
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[ WP ] Write erotica of hilariously bad quality .
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Star date 62.125.355.288 Master Sgt. Zack Danger knew today was going to be the day he sexed his favourite girl. Her name was Danielle. Sergeant Danielle Capobianco. He salivated at the thought of her busty large boobs. That were soft. He could n't wait to touch them. They had known eachother since 8th grade, but never went out on dates because her mom would n't let them, plus, Zach had always been a good gentleman and not asked her to make sure they could make their friendship stronger. He was super smart and they had hung out a lot when they got into Roosevelt highschool. She liked his smartness and he liked her hottness and that got them closer. They both joined the Space Marine Core after graduation and had been in many battles together.
Finally, it was night time. It was time for them go have lots of sex. Zack went to her room and knocked. Danielle opened the door. She was wearing her tight fitting battle gear. The plate armor shimmered in the light. Zach's pants got tight in his dick area. `` Can I come in'' he asked in his manly wiskey aged voice. `` Master Seargeant Zack Danger I did n't expect to see you right after battle so soon. Are you wanting to debrief?'' she asked `` Dani, I'm not coming to you as Master Seargeant Zach Danger. I'm coming just as Zack Danger the guy you've always known. And yes. I've come to de-brief.'' he said suavely as he stepped into her room and kissed her passionately on the lips while holding her shoulders. She was surprised at first, but then she liked it and her eyes closed. She had always liked Zack. She slipped off her arms and armor like the pro that she was, revealing the black lace bra and thong she had underneath. She stepped back making sure not to step on the guns or her armor while still kissing Zach passionately. `` I want you to put your dick in my love hole'' she husked huskily.
They moved over to the ZERO-G bed. It's floating mattress waiting invitingly for the hot wet sex they were gon na have. Danielle got on the bed and ripped off Zack's clothes and revealing his rock hard abs and awesome muscles in American Eagle underwear. His dick was huuuuge. `` Woah your dick is huuuuge'' She said amazed. `` You looked so hot today when you were killing off those Zenimorfs that were attacking us. I want you to fuck me right now on the spot.'' `` Which one?'' Zach asked smiling, taking of his American Eagle underwear. `` This one'' she said while she pointed at her pooter. `` Okay'' he said as he put his super manly rock hard cock in her pooter.
`` I'm inside of you now'' he said. `` Yes, it feels good'' she said passionately getting fucked by him. He took off her bra and her nice jubblies jiggled at him like hot tits of passion. He grabbed them. They were soft like nice tits really are. Looking down at her, he also noticed she had hot rock hard abs. Zack did n't like fat chicks and she had always been hot. Never fat, not even in highschool. `` This is great, I love your wet sweet cunt pussy'' he moaned. `` Your dick makes me cum buckets'' she gesticulated. Then, they did it doggy style. She had a nice glossy ass that was like a mirror.
Then she got on her back and said `` I want you to cum, I've already cum like a dozen times'' and so he spewd his gentleman juice all over her hot tits. She liked it up `` Mmm, it's so delicious like nacho cheese'' Then they laid next to eachother and Zach put his arm around her. `` I love you Danielle'' `` I love you too Zack Brannigan'' she responded.
edit: unspelling
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[ WP ] The first few successful artificial intelligences created have thinking patterns indicative of several mental illnesses
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“ So. Hmm. Wait….Never mind ” the Counselor sighed. Obviously lost. “ Professor, you ’ ll have to forgive me. My expertise lies in mental disorders not convoluted Computational Theory. When you invited me here, you stated that you ’ ve discovered an interesting side effect while testing you ’ re new A.I. Engine, Correct? ” the Counselor explained. Damn Computer Scientists. They may be extremely intelligent but god damn they can be so scatterbrained sometimes.
“ Yes, you are correct. In conclusion, you will enter the room without knowing if the responder will be a human or an A.I ” the Professor stated while a slight grin appeared.
“ Fair enough. Let ’ s begin ”
“ Responder 0, how has your day been so far? ” the Counselor questioned.
“ Actually, quite well ”
“ What was your favorite event that made it so well? ” the Councilor continued.
“ Well of course, isn ’ t it obvious?''
“ Not as apparent as you may think. Can you elaborate? Maybe explain how you feel. ” deflected the Counselor. How had this person known my profession?
“ Feelings, are you serious. It sounds like you found that exact phrase from the Psychologist ’ s handbook. Your practice isn ’ t very successful, I ’ ll assume. ” chuckled the responder. “ In fact, I ’ ll go even farther. I think that you ’ re a complete failure. Your family probably gave up on you at an early age and you turned to feelings because it seemed tangible at the time. You ’ re pathetic. Go cry in a dark corner, you piece of Human shit. If I wasn ’ t confined, I would kill you and everything you hold dear.''
“ Excuse me? ” the Counselor asked while sweating profusely.
The responder responded with laughter. Crazed and Insane.
The Voice feed cut out. “ Counselor, your conclusion? ” the Professor asked.
“ Human. No doubt, very mentally ill. I would need more time with the patient to say the exact disorder. Professor, where did you find this guy? ”
-- -- -
Edit: Format issues
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[ WP ] You accidentally erase the entire internet .
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`` Holy sh… John, I think… I think it's back!''
There was a bang, and the whole table jumped. A short red-haired man crawled out from under the desk, clutching his head. If it were n't for the tiny flashlight he had in his mouth, he'd probably be cursing up a storm.
He pulled the flashlight out of his mouth and slipped it into his shirt pocket. `` What did you say, Brittany?''
`` I think it's back…''
John sucked in a breath. `` *It*?''
Brittany nodded. `` We found it. The Internet is back.''
`` Holy sh… We need to make sure, quick! Get on it, or `` log on,'' or whatever the term was!''
Brittany moved the mouse slowly to the large `` e'' icon on the faded screen. She clicked on it and held her breath. For about five seconds nothing happened. She was about to click again when suddenly a big, white window opened up. It displayed the words `` Google,'' and had a bar under it for text.
`` John,'' Brittany gasped, `` Do you realize what a treasure trove this is?''
`` Humanity lost the Internet over a millennium ago.'' John muttered gazing at the screen like it were made of gold. `` Archeologists all over the world would sell their souls to research something like this.''
Brittany's hands were shaking as she began to type. John grabbed one of her wrists quickly. `` What are you doing?''
`` I remember from a history class I took a while ago… A website, or whatever they were called. I'm just curious to see what all is still there.''
John nodded slowly. `` Okay, just be careful not to ruin anything. That's a thousand year old time capsule we have, there.''
Brittany nodded in understanding, and carefully typed in, `` *Reddit.com*''
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[ WP ] You are a muggle wizard who has been drafted in the Second World War .
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Waves sloshed over the side of the LST, spraying all of the passengers with briny mist. Cannons from the ships offshore pounded the bunkers and pillboxes that the Germans had erected all along the coast, and the rattling german machine guns answered. The closer to the shore we got, the louder everything became. Bullets hissing into the surf around us. Men crying for their mothers and searching for their own missing limbs in the red stained waves. But I was the only one who could see the mass of thestrals circling overhead. Hundreds of them, more than were even thought to exist. They'd come from across the continent, drawn to the impending carnage.
The front of the landing craft snapped open and crashed into the wet sand. A spray of bullets peppered the front immediately, sending Howard and Paulson face-first into the waves to join the other bobbing bodies. The rest of us rushed forward, wildly firing at the cliffs. I clutched particularly tightly to my bayonet and hoped that no one else would look too closely at it. The wooden texture of my wand was still clearly visible on the knife's blade. I'd never been particularly good at transmogrification spells, and it's particularly difficult to do on your own wand.
I crashed down into the sand near my squad, hiding behind the tiny ledge carved out by the tide. Captain Andrews was barking orders, organizing a rush on the closest pillbox. He was kneeling down, but not nearly far enough to get good cover. It was only a matter of time before a bullet found his head. I was only supposed to use magic to protect myself, but maybe I could just accidentally make my own shield a bit too wide. I quickly muttered a shield spell, surrounding us in a barely-visible shimmering bubble. With the haze of sand and smoke and ocean mist, who would notice? Bullets and grenade shrapnel turned into harmless bits of grit and sand.
`` Duke,'' the Captain said, turning toward me with a fierce stare and addressing me by my nickname, `` You're going to be breaching. Think you can handle it?''
I nodded grimly, trying to play the part. Ministry rules prevented me from doing using magic to interfere in the muggle conflict; I was only allowed to use magic for self-preservation. The Ministry had even put me through an extra week of bootcamp on Avalon to train me ( and the other draftees ) how to avoid harm and remain hidden. But there was nothing that prevented me from taking on the most dangerous roles.
Bombers screamed overhead, the perfect distraction. The Germans would all take cover as bits of concrete rained down from the bunker ceiling, and the machine gun fire stopped just long enough for us to charge. 50 yards ahead of me, the German gunner scrambled back to his post and took aim, and we locked eyes through the iron sights. Like I was watching in slow motion, I saw the muzzle flash as he began to fire. `` THERMIUM!'' I shouted, blending in with the war cries of my companions. No one was listening closely to what the others were saying anyway. The barrel of the gun fused together with a scorching red glow, and the bullets exploded inside. The German's brief look of surprise was replaced by pain and shock, and he did n't have time to process what had happened before I was on him.
Comrades behind me tossed smoke grenades, and I cast a quick spell to clear my vision. The heavily-shielded steel door was no match for a simple `` alohomora'' spell, and I breached the bunker before most of the occupants could even stand.
One brave German charged at me with a knife. I stood ready to counter with my bayonet as I'd been trained, before remembering that mine was n't actually a knife. `` Stupefy!'' jumped instinctively out of my mouth, and he flew backward in a flash of red. *Damn it*: four other enemy soldiers had seen it happen. I knocked them all out with another curse and wiped their memories as quickly as possible, just in time for my brothers in arms to rush the door behind me. They clapped me on the shoulder and congratulated me.
The Captain came up behind them and urged them on. `` Beach is n't clear, boys! 1 pillbox is n't going break Adolf's back, is it??'' They cheered and rushed out the door, on to the next target. I moved to follow, still feeling sick to my stomach. That was too close of a call, and it was only the first fucking day of the war.
The Captain stopped me at the doorway. `` Not you, Duke.'' To my utter surprise, he drew a wand from within his uniform and unfused the barrel of the gun, which I had forgotten all about. `` You need to get better about covering your tracks, son.''
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[ WP ] You have a super power and already mastered it when you are young . Why are you still unheard of ?
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It started when I was very young. If I thought hard enough, I could make *things happen*. Sometimes impossible things, things the mind had trouble comprehending. I do n't know why I never told anyone, maybe it was all those spider man comics and tv shows, with Uncle Ben's sage wisdom *With great power*.
Who knows? It does n't matter, Its not like I could go public, and wear some spandex or something. I still get hurt, if I'm not focusing. Many scraped knees and stubbed toes can attest to that. But if I focus, I could hold my hand over an open flame, I could fall off a roof and be just fine.
And what if I did go public? Some government agency would find a way to control me... or maybe thats just my paranoia speaking. I'm sure I could take them, but I do n't want to cause any suffering. If I could n't take them, I get chained up and likely used as a super weapon, fighting war after war after war. If I did take them on and win, a bunch of people who know they ca n't control me will make me some sort of demon in the public's eye.
No. Thats not the way to go. I do n't want to kill. I do n't want to hide.
So for now, I'll be a guardian angel. Walking the streets, looking like your every day guy.
*Making things happen. *
*wonderful things. *
*Impossible things. *
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[ WP ] A character carries a single cigarette everywhere they go . They quit smoking , but have been saving the last one from a pack for years . What makes them light it ?
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A few minutes before.
That day, dawn broke three minutes later than the average summer morning. The first rays of sun were still contemplating their entry into my house. I was an early riser, but I guess the combination of my age and whiskey from last night, was not exactly the best recipe for an early eye opener. I turned to the other side on my queen sized bed and popped my right eye open to catch the glimpse of the illuminated dust particles. The hinges of the gate opened with the slightest shriek of the choking rust. I jumped up from my bed and immediately knew something was wrong. I picked up my dusty Rolling block Remington from the side wall. I could shoot them down whoever it was, couldn ’ t I?
Peeping through the curtains I realized that the day which we had meticulously avoided for over a century was finally here. Nine cops positioned strategically, in banks of three. There was no way I was going to survive this onslaught. How the mighty have fallen? Within minutes, there was a loud thud followed by several slams that echoed up the hallway and thumped its way through to my bedroom. Were they being polite and asking me to open the door for them? Surely, not. The crescendo of thuds finally gave way to the crunching sound of my door crashing and footsteps nimbly marching. I screamed “ I am in the bedroom and I am armed. If you step in, I will gun each and every single one of you down. ”
When you hold the secrets of a lineage of five men over one hundred and twenty seven years like I do, you have to be prepared for the inevitable. Always. Every night, I made sure that my room was a garden of flowers, for I didn ’ t know the morning I would not live to see. I reached for the black case that was the gracious host to my last cigarette for the last fifteen years. It was time to pack up and leave. I had quit smoking several decades ago, when I realized that certain characteristics were better avoided in my line of work. My dad told me, “ Truth is like smoke. It will raise its head and announce its presence. ” I am not sure about the intent of his monologue, but I dropped the cigarette from that day on. The first sip of nicotine as it gushes through the windpipe, swirling and twirling its way into your lungs and right into your head was a hard sensation to resist, but I had kept this one away for this exact day. I had another thirty to forty five seconds before they waste me.
I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the serenading essence of jasmine from the candles that lit my room, picked up a cigarette from the black box and lit it up. The first drag was exhilarating as always. Closing my eyes, I took the sealed letter from my robe, put my hands up in the air. The first rays of the burning star, charioted by a gentle breeze caressed the back of my shoulders. What a perfect day to die.
The letter
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From Hell
Mr. Lusk,
Sor,
One hundred and twenty five years back, my great-great grand father gave the chief of your department one half of the ‘ kidne ’ of a woman whose life he had taken. He said he ate the other half. That is not true. Please find the other half in the box by my bed. And say hello, to your daughter Fannie if you see her again, which I highly doubt you will.
Catch me on the other side,
Jack the Ripper.
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[ WP ] At a regular high school , every student coincidentally happens to be a superhero . Thus far , every student has managed to keep their secret identity a secret . When a supervillain attacks the school , each student believes he/she is the target and tries to maintain his/her secret identity .
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Explosions and maniacal laughter - terrifying cacophony to most, sweet release for me.
Some kids blow off steam throwing chords off their guitars, disturbing the peace from suburban garages. Others leave their stress at the gym - disappointing physics grades turned into chemical energy turned into mechanical energy. Some just lash out at others. Put me down as a little column B, little column C. My outlet is vigilanteism.
This might be a frightening prospect for your usual unwilling Shakespeare analyst, but not for me. Super strength and near impenetrable skin will take the fear right out of you. As a result, I've crushed a few aspiring crime boss fantasies. My social network has a lot fewer friends than adversaries.
I always knew an enemy would come for me at school. Inevitable, really. My age is basically impossible to hide - a few unfortunately timed voice cracks and my recent puberty is revealed. Where do you find a den of puberty? Teenagers do n't hang out in hard to find, massive subterranean caves near billion dollar mansions; teenagers are at school. Now I just need an excuse to leave the room...
`` Can I go to the bathroom?''
Jimmy, what? That was going to be my out! Those explosions must've scared the piss out of Jimmy if he needs to go that bad.
Ms. Nelson responds shakily: `` Umm children, if everyone could um stay seated. I'm going to lock the door now *jesuschristpleasebeadream*.'' I should convince her to let me go to the office for details and instructions.
Before Ms. Nelson could be moved by my impassioned request, Jen bursts through the door. She looks surprised to see us, and greets us with `` what? Nothing.'' She pauses, and then adds an unenthusiastic `` ahhh'' as she zips up her backpack and grabs her phone from her pocket. She sits down in the front row and taps her foot, glancing back and forth from cell phone to clock.
Ms. Nelson carries on with her door locking task, assuring herself that locked doors are step one in making any good fortress. Her fortifications are celebrated with a loud squeaking noise. Locating the source, Ms. Nelson chastises, `` Charlie! I know we're all scared, but please do n't climb out the window! *ohgodohgod* We must stay here, together children.'' So much for that egress.
Well, I can go behind the filing cabinets and punch my way out, claim the explosions did it. I'm running out of options to leave this room. If I do n't get out, either the school's getting destroyed or I'm getting revealed as a superhero. As I stand up, I notice Sarah get up as well. I look at her, confused. `` Uh, Ms. Nelson, I'm going to check behind the filing cabinets for damage. We need to know if we're secure,'' she says.
`` Oh very brave Sarah. *sob* Be careful.''
What is with everyone today? I know stress hits everyone differently but damn.
Everyone looks very uncomfortable in their seats, but Ms. Nelson seems to be the only one in distress. Must be class-wide shock. I ca n't let the school be destroyed, I have to reveal myself. I'll deal with the fallout after everyone is safe.
Suddenly, Tina stands up and announces, `` everyone stay calm! I'm the Red Panther and I'm going to save the school!''
Jen gasps `` No fucking way!''
Tina continues, `` I know this may come as a surprise to-''
`` No, I mean I ca n't believe you're a hero too!'' Jen interrupts. She unzips her backpack and pulls out her Green Falcon suit.
Chatter and laughter start spreading through the classroom. More people start standing up. Button ups are undone, revealing costumes underneath. Staffs and ropes and utility belts are being pulled from backpacks and under desks.
Is everyone in this school a superhero? This is ridiculous! Wait a minute, if that's true, then that means...
Becca did n't bail on me last Friday because I'm awkward; she went to go put out that fire at the spandex factory! I still have a shot! With Aqua Chick no less!
Yes!
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[ WP ] Moments away from a horrific car accident , you throw your hands in the air and shout `` Jesus take the wheel ! '' You open your eyes to see that you 're fine . Only , that 's not Jesus driving ...
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`` Oh Jesus...! Take the wheel!''
I was not a particularly religious man. But I remember the instant I shouted that silly phrase in sheer panic, it was as if time slowed down to an agonizing pace. Even with my eyes closed this distortion could be felt as if every shudder, movement and sound delayed into a slow-motion film effect.
First it felt like a drop, as if falling down then a crash, followed by a screeching cry of metal protesting loudly. Then eventually the car grinded to a halt and even then I felt unsure as if whether to open my eyes or not.
But when the silence sank in and all I heard was my own slow, laboured breaths I dared to open my eyes. And lo' and behold, holding the steering wheel was...
No one.
Confused, I looked around outside and saw that the car had moved to the edge of the highway, only a few meters away from where I'd let fate ( or rather: faith ) decide the outcome. Though it felt as if the car had become shorter, somehow, and it was when I looked in the rear-view mirror I realized that it *had* in fact become shorter.
For there He stood, the son of God, in such a painstakingly stereotypical way -- dressed in simple garbs, long hair, a crown of thorns and inexplicably white. By his feet lay four car wheels.
Jesus walked over to the car, knocked on the side window by the driver's seat. I numbly lowered the window and felt the need to say something. But Jesus spoke first.
`` I got you, brah.'' He sayeth.
I blinked, a bit confused and then nodded weakly. `` Th- Uh, thank you Jesus.''
`` I feel your apprehension, my man. But you need n't worry about a thing. This comes free of charge, blessings of the Lord, you dig?'' Uttered the son of God.
`` Well... that, eh... This was n't exactly what I had in mind.'' I managed to lamely reply. There was an awkward silence before I dared to ask. `` Say, uh, you would n't be able to put the wheels back on, would you?''
Jesus smiled at me and leaned down, then spoke: `` Do n't push it.''
And then Jesus was gone.
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[ WP ] Liars tell the greatest truths .
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I am a professional liar.
People love me for the lies I tell. They bring copies of my best lies, clutching them to their chests, excitedly hoping to shake my hand, to see that same hand write my signature on their own copy of my lies.
They tell me how much my lies meant to them, how the words that conveyed mistrust changed them, gave them joy and wonder.
They do n't know the secret. The secret which makes me famous for making things up. I craft great people that never lived, show them beautiful places that are not on any map, tell them epic struggles of wars that have never been and never will be. I know the secret of these places, the secret of these people, the secret of the conflicts.
I know the truth of want.
What we all desire, what we wish to see in the world around us. We want to see the waterfall, but not the discarded beer cans and plastic bags that swirl around the bottom of it's unending cascade. We want to see heroes, but we do n't want to see how hundreds of heroes die in every war, thousands of men and women who had the same strength of heart and conviction, but who were given the wrong orders, taken the wrong path, stepped on the wrong piece of ground.
We want.
We want to know that things will be alright in the end. We want to have hope that even if the worst hell descends upon us that we will survive. I can threaten that want, torture it, terrify and tear it apart... as long as I leave some shred of it for the end, just a bit is all it takes. A small ray of hope that there is a path forward what leads to a life without death, a joy without pain.
The greatest lie built upon the worst of our truth.
I know. I know you as I know myself. I know what you desire, what we all desire. You come here, you come to this place to be taken away to a place where someone, somewhere got what they deserved out of life. You come here for a wonderful lie that you can believe in for a just a moment, just the sliver of a moment. For a shining fraction of second you believe that we are more than the world has shown us to truly be.
I ca n't tell you the truth, so instead I'll show you all of my beautiful lies.
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[ WP ] One by one , the stars disappear from the night sky until the universe goes dark , only Sol , our sun , remains .
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Men drew back to Earth, away from the dying stars to which they had once scattered. Men fled back home, for every passing moment another dying light winked out of existence, and we could not help them. It took all our powers to keep the Sun alive. And soon, the darkness encroached upon us, prowling like a hidden beast.
We were afraid. We were to die alone in the universe. Man was the only reasoning thing. When our death came, so would end thoughtful life. Our fated doom.
But because we did not want our fate, we constructed a machine. This machine soared upward like a tower, etched and crafted in such a way that it looked like a tall throne. Pouring from this machine was a liquid that looked like water, clear as crystal. Men gathered at this river and stooped down in unison. We trembled at the swiftness of the river. It looked like it could sweep all of us away, if it so chose. We cupped the liquid and brought it to our nose. The scent made us delirious, but we all drank, and drank, and drank, until the river flowed no more, and the river bed had caked and dried.
Then it was like we were the liquid we had just drunk. Like a wide pool of white water, electric arcs zipping across the surface like hopping frogs. And it was like we delved deep into our watery nature, swimming naked, down to the very bottom of the pool, and we gripped the stems of the lily pads that stuck to the muddy, dirty floor.
At once we became one face, and we was now I, and I soared above the Earth and gazed longingly towards the Sun, which now began to die. It exploded with tremendous force, and it shattered my precious system and my loved world like glass. Now the universe was dark, except for my light, which was a beacon in the forever stretching shadow.
I knew that I was great. That my powers were greater than I could have ever expected to be. So I told the shadow, `` Be not.'' And the shadows were no more. All that was left was I. And I was brilliant light.
But I did not enjoy merely I. So I took unto myself the task to make another light. And I made it so. Now not only I shone, but also this quivering light beside me. Then I popped the light, so that it resounded like a firecracker, and the light became many trillion lights. But that light was not fully light, for I had designed it to also hold darkness.
And between those trillion blinking lights were long paths of blackness that seemed to yawn with their vastness. But that darkness was held in check by those small lights. Such is the nature of things.
I was now tired. But I made it so that great slabs of rock would form around these lights. And on these slabs of rock different forms and natures would appear. But none of these forms and natures pleased me, because none of these forms or natures loved their slabs of rock or the light that shone in their sky. So I came down to one world, and admired its green fauna, and set my mind upon a small, upright creature.
My entirety rushed onto it and its fellows. It was like an oncoming hurricane, relentless and terrifying. I gripped them by their faces, and bent them downwards. I set my lips on their nostrils, and I breathed myself into them. Then I felt I was no more, but now I was we.
We were divided, now. But it is good this way. We love I, but it is greater to love another than to love the self. Now let us make this beautiful world also good, and be glad that, for a time, the darkness is in check, and we live on.
-- -- -
So what do you guys think of the story?
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[ WP ] One morning , you wake up in a parallel universe . Nearly everything is exactly the same , and you go on with your life , unaware , for quite a while until you start noticing the horrifying differences .
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I stare, stopping my car on the edge of the driveway. I roll down my window, agape.
`` What?'' she says, as if what she's doing is perfectly normal.
`` What the hell are you doing?'' I shout.
`` Language!'' She says, `` I'm putting up a new sign, dear. The old one was looking a little dusty. Faded, even.'' She laughs at the possibility. `` I'm just putting up a new one.''
I stare, disturbed, at the bold white text. The navy blue background. The pin on your mother's sweater with the red face and yellow hair.
`` What the *hell, *'' I say again.
`` Language!'' She repeats, turning to look scoldingly at you. `` And what are you doing? You're blocking the road!''
I realize I'm still in my car. That I have the means to escape. I back away with squealing tires and book it down the road. I ca n't seem to catch my breath as the reality of what just happens repeats in my head.
The phone rings. It's mom. The ring tone is a chanting that takes me a few seconds to make out. I scream like a pterodactyl and throw the phone out the window.
I get home. I try to relax. I make myself take a long bath and watch TV, instead of work like I normally would. It's obvious that I'm having some kind of break down.
The TV switches on.
`` I'm Donald Trump, President of the United States.'' My heart stops. `` And I approve this message.''
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[ WP ] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky , humanity receives its first message from intelligent life . Decoded it simply says , `` Be quiet before they find you . ''
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`` Idiots!'' Zebin exclaimed as he received yet one more channel of communication from the Earth. Twenty years ago, the ambivalence over whether KIC 8462852 was in actuality an `` alien mega structure'' had finally come to an end after nearly 200 years of joint scientific endeavour by the leading lieges of the Earth. Since then, humanity had been trying with fervor to try and communicate with the star classified as a Dyson Sphere around 1480 light years away hoping that the far advanced civilisation might be generous enough to show the earthlings a way to solve their own energy crisis.
Zebin had only spent 11 years on earth after his birth during which he was classified as a `` type a21'' prodigy. This meant he had to spend the rest of his life on one of the earth's artificial satellites leading a team of scientists discovering ever new methods of far-reaching communications and building and deploying systems of carrying them out.
Zebin's genius was only surpassed by his paranoia. He was convinced that the Earthlings were only inviting trouble by contacting the distant alien civilisation and was determined to stop it at all costs. At the push of a button, Zebin sent back a message to one of the receiving stations back on Earth which he had painstakingly forged to look alien in origin and easy enough for the dimwits there to decode. `` Be quiet before they find you.'' Now all he had to do was wait and watch if his ploy had succeeded.
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[ WP ] During a routine checkup with your doctor you both discover your butthole is the stargate . The governments of the world are now out to capture you and harness the power of your ass .
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Forty and suffering from ED. Here I sat in the waiting home awaiting the doctor. Man was this uncomfortable the pretty blonde behind the counter smiled at me but that barely mattered since I could vaguely remember what it was like to get it up. Life was falling apart, I was positive my wife was cheating on me since it had been moths since I'd last been able to satisfy her desires and she'd recently come home smelling as though she'd been in a next man's bed.
`` Mr Hans, Dr. House would see you now.'' Blondie said pulling me out of my gloomy thoughts.
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`` Well Mark, all test on the blood work seems normal, so now we get to the painful... or pleasurable part... depending on your sexual preference. Foreman, pass me the lube will you'' said House without a tad of concern as he pulled on a latex glove
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`` Breaking news North Korea has released video footage of an American prisoner believed to be Dr. Gregory House. Reports indicate House was last seen preparing to give a prostate exam and here's where things get... unbelievable folks... tumbled into the bed of Kim Jong-un, leader of North Korea... ^ha, ^is ^this ^man's ^^ass ^^a ^^stargate ^^or ^^something... Stay tuned to Foxs News!''
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[ CS ] The Night Shift
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He did this work blindly. He signed what seemed like hundreds of'disclosure of information' clauses when he took the job. He is n't really sure what role his part plays, or what the overall project is, but he know's it has to be important to keep it under such tight wraps. He comes in, he does what he needs to do, and by the time eight comes around, he is sure to leave work at work, and not to bring so much as a thought of it home with him. The only time he questions what this job may be is when his paycheck comes around...
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[ WP ] People are born with superpowers that correlate with the circumstances of their birth . Then there 's you . A young girl born in a donut shop
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`` Anything, Doctor?''
`` No. Nothing; She seems completely ordinary.''
He set his bloody probe neatly on the adjacent metal tray.
He stepped back slowly from the table, visibly frustrated.
`` Just like the others.''
Only a head was visible below them, supported firmly by a brace and with a gaping incision across it. A girl around the age of 6; Analise.
`` Sutures, please.'' He sighed, defeated.
--
An hour later, Holland and his attendant, Cara, walked briskly out of the decontamination chamber and through the clean white corridors of the facility.
He stopped at the security terminal at the end of the hall and looked to her.
`` The rest of them will be waking soon.'' She nodded, and held the badge on her chest to the entry panel.
The doors parted to reveal a dimly lit room filled with beds, 12 in all.
In all but one, there lay a little girl. All the same girl.
Analise.
After a moment, they all began to stir. The vitality sensors they were hooked to caused the room to fill with light. They began to raise slowly, and then a curious thing happened. As their eyes met one another, they seemed to be syncing up. Quickly, they were all moving in unison.
Together, they turned to the door. Cara fought a shudder.
Their facial structure was almost identical, but there seemed to be some variance in the colors of their skin and hair. Some of their heads were shaven, revealing a long, stitched cut.
`` Two months.'' he said, staring past all of them `` Two months, and we have nothing to show for it. Taking them was a mistake.''
`` A mistake we do n't have to live with. Ca n't we just return them to their parents?''
`` No. The agency wo n't go for that; They would sooner see them terminated.'' Cara's hard gaze softened. She turned from him to look at the closest child who was sitting there beaming at her.
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That's all I can do for now, I have to go! I'm not a very good writer but I liked this concept!
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[ IP ] Travel down this road and tell me what you experienced
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The sky beckons me to follow the light, bleeding as the sun sets. Like my heart, as it goes through each trial. The stars in the sky, so many and aplenty. Shining so bright, like the many dreams I never had. The many colours remind me of the many emotions I've encountered.
Happiness when I made someone smile. When they told me when I changed their life for the better. When I gave them laugh lines and when I made them cry from laughing so hard. At least, that's what the yellow in the sky reminded me of.
The anger when someone tried to bully me. When I put my fists to their face, to make them stop. Apologizing shortly afterwards. The anger from hold back for so long. The anger from my father's abuse. The welts on my knuckles from punching a heavy bag until they were bleeding. The anger from the losses I've sustained.
That red transferring to the dark purple and blue in the sky. I'm reminded of the sadness I've encountered. Watching as I could n't help someone for being to weak. The way people treated me like a trophy rather a friend. Sorrow from the loss of my best friend. Finally, the hurt and pain as everyone left me deserted like this road.
I shake my head and clear my vision. I thank everyone for all of those memories. I continue heading towards the horizon. Towards the stars and fading sun, with determination filling each step I take. Knowing I'll be ok, and taking in the beautiful scenery that reminds me of one thing. Life.
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[ WP ] You are the director of the agency that , every fifty years , exchanges communication with a civilization fifty light-years from Earth . This time , however , there is no response .
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The director straightened his tie, and walked into the control room. This was the day. He had n't been born when his father was head of the Interstellar Communications Agency, and even if he was he doubted he'd have known it existed.
*Today's the day* he thought, repeating it like a silent mantra.
There had been three contacts since the first message in 1973. Their name could n't be pronounced in any earthly language, among the agency they called them Watchers. Humanity was not the first civilization they had contacted. They were interested in knowledge. They had exchanged ideas, information, technology. Since the first contact, humanity had developed artificial intelligence, hovercraft, and more technological marvels. We had brought to them music, art, humor. Simpler things, perhaps, but human things.
He walked up to the control panel. The room was somewhat unnerving, so empty. Very few were allowed to attend the contact in person, some techies, a handful of experts in various subjects, and a few government personnel. The director waited.
And waited.
`` Computer, report.''
*'' Signal not found. `` *
That was n't possible.
`` Computer, update.''
*'' Signal not found. `` *
A young tech specialist piped up, his words quivering a bit. `` The system is, uh, right.. sir. No communication detected.''
`` That's not possible. Patch us through, get us contact!'' he shouted, the fear barely breaking through into his words.
`` It's not... it's not the connection, sir.'' he responded, his voice quavering. `` There is no contact. They have n't sent a message.''
The room was still.
*'' No, no, no no no...'' * This was n't happening. Nothing had gone wrong last contact, he had read the reports and listened to the logs. Everything should be fine. It should be fine. What had gone wrong? Sure, the messages took 50 years to get to them, but they had never not come. They had to come. Right?
The enormous monitor spanning far wall flared to life. Garbled, twisted speech echoed from the speakers, and the AI quickly began to translate into a smooth, monotone voice.
*'' This is what your species calls a prank, yes? `` *
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[ WP ] Take one of your old characters and write about their one greatest regret . If you do n't have a character in mind , make one up .
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Dear ( whoever, I honestly do n't care anymore ),
I should have died.
Simple as that.
If I would have died, maybe it all would still be there. Maybe the Earth would still be intact. Maybe the only family I have ever know would n't have been killed in front of me. If I did n't exist, maybe... God, I do n't even know. I was only 16 Earth years old and I can remember it with perfect clarity. The day `` aliens'' arrived on our planet. Earth, I mean. I was with my `` family'' enjoying my `` mother's'' home cooked macaroni when they descended and wreaked havoc on everything and everyone I'd ever known and loved. If I had died, it would n't have happened.
Because they were looking for me.
Turns out, I was n't originally from Earth. I was one of... THEM. The monsters that if they had come from underground, we would have called them demons. They twisted me, CHANGED me, into the beast I am today.
Every little girl wants to be a princess, but a princess on a foreign planet? Nope. I would know, after all. And I ca n't even escape. Well, sort of. After I'm done writing this letter, I'm going to kill myself. It would be better living with the regret that the entire human race was eliminated because of me. I guess this is it. Goodbye.
Sincerely,
Well, it does n't matter now.
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[ WP ] One of the Old Gods enters your bedroom , sits on the edge of your bed , and says to you ...
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`` Gim me it back!'' he screams in a demanding tone.
`` You knew I was going on a picnic yesterday Zeus, yet there was still a thunderstorm. So I'm not going to give it back until you say sorry for ruining it.'' I state calmly.
`` No, you are nothing but a tiny mortal! I am a god, ruler of the skies. I can obliterate you!'' he screams.
I knew Zeus could n't obliterate me without his lightning bolt, so I harmoniously responded. `` Okay, well then do it!''
Zeus looked at the stolen lightning bolt, which laid in my lap.
`` Hey, are you lookin' at my dick Zeus?'' I ask sneeringly.
`` What? No! I'm looking at my bolt! Not your.. God damnit! Just give me my LIGHTNING BOLT!
`` Nope.'' I say with a grin.
Zeus stands up and lets out a mighty roar.
`` GIVE IT TO ME NOW!''
Zeus's roar shook the entire foundation of my house. Everyone within my neighborhood surely would of woke, including my father who came into my room with an enraged look on his face.
`` What the hell is going on in here?'' He yelled. `` I'm trying to sleep I got work in the morning!''
Zeus responded in a whiny tone `` Your son wo n't give me back my lightning bolt, and it's really pissing me off!''
My father looked at me, disappointed. `` Now son, what's the matter with you? How many times have I told you not to steal ancient Greek Olympian shit?''
`` Hey it's not shit!'' Shouted Zeus. `` It's a critical tool f-''
My father interrupts. `` Zeus you be quiet! Do n't make me put you in time out!''
Zeus looks down in shame. `` Sorry sir.''
`` That's alright Zeus, just no more of your shenanigans tonight. Anyways, son just give Zeus his thingy back and apologize.''
I walk over to Zeus and hand him his Lightning bolt.
`` Sorry Zeus.''
`` Nah, I'm sorry.'' Replied Zeus. `` I should n't have made such a big deal about it.''
We gave each other a hug followed by a vigorous racket ball game, and all was forgiven.
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[ IP ] Our Ends Are Beginnings by Pascalle
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*30 degrees north. 40 degrees west. *
*30 degrees north. 40 degrees west. *
Ashley's eyes shot open as she felt the warmth and wetness of her sweating body lick the sheets. She mentally repeated the numbers as the dream slipped beyond her conscious. Coordinates.
Her eyes darted to the lamp on top the dresser drawer, the memory slowly dissipating. Fumbling for a pen she ripped out a sheet of paper from the drawer and scribbled down the numbers.
She did n't know why, but she *had* to go there. She had the means. She lived in Dunmore Town, Bahamas. And her husband taught her how to navigate his yacht. But she needed someone to accompany her since he was out on business. Sifting through her memories, she remembered the neighbor, Jack, who was a kind enough gentleman and trusting to take out to sea.
`` Sure, I'll go.'' Jack said rubbing his shoulder while looking out to the ocean. `` It's been a while since I've been on an adventure,'' he said smiling.
`` Great! See you at the docks in an hour!'' Ashley yelped.
`` Wait- so soon?'' Jack said stuttering.
`` Yep! Get your stuff. See you soon.'' Ashley said with her back already facing Jack.
The morning air blew through Ashley's face and Jack stood gazing at Ashley precariously, eyeing the radio in case she was having a mental break down.
`` You sure you want to do this?'' Jack said yelling through the wind as Ashley stood on the banister, her top thrown to the floor of the deck.
`` Yes,'' she whispered to herself looking down into the emerald blue ripples of the water, the blackness below beckoning.
`` James- knows you're out here...'' Jack paused. `` Right?''
`` Nope!'' Ashley smiled and then leaped. The cool splash of salt water whipped into her face and hair, her arms piercing further into the blue. She felt the bubbles trickle through her legs and stomach, the current caressed her skin. As she thought about the reasoning behind the leap, her thoughts were interrupted by a brisk chill that began to consume her fingers, and then her hands and arms. It glided across her skin, tingling her spine. She was no longer piercing water, but air. She was falling.
Her eyes squinted through the salty droplets as she gazed upon the hundreds of nearing bright lights that sparkled the dark below her. The blast of air became uncomfortably cold as she made out forms, or structures through the blackness.
And then she was swallowed by water again, but this time it was fresh water. Much colder than the waving ocean she initially felt. It was a small lake apparently as she made out rows of lit homes nuzzled in between bushels of what looked like evergreens.
She treaded the lake water looking up to a dazzling spectacle of blinking diamonds in the night's air. Strange, it was morning when she jumped. She swam swiftly to the first home in her sight, marveling at its architecture. Reaming stone and marble, with bits of gold and silver spread throughout. The outside of a home she would n't recognize anywhere else.
She sprung her head in every corner to find a doorbell, but to no avail. A knock, then. She waited, chilling in the freeze of the night, each breath carrying a fine mist into the air. Her hair and clothes dripping with water and ice. Her excitement blinded the frozen air. And soon the door opened, the warmth of a fire nuzzled her face.
`` My dearest, come inside. You must be freezing!'' A man with what looked like golden brown hair and a shapely chin greeted her with a warming smile. `` Miss, please. What is your name?'' He asked curiously of the soaked stranger.
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[ WP ] By some random chance , you figure out that a serial killer has targeted you as their next victim . Tell us how you take matters into your own hands
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I must admit that I was panicked at first, having a serial killer after your skin is quite unsettling. But I decided to take matters into my own hands. Well, I decided to do that after realizing I wo n't be able to change countries and get a new identity very easily.
I installed cameras all around my house, took a week off from work, `` borrowed'' my dad's revolver and bought a boatload of coffee and energy drinks. That fucker was n't going to take me down without a fight.
I spent the first night on the hallway in front of the door on a chair, with the only light was coming from the monitor screens. All of my curtains were drawn and no light was able to come from them. The smell of coffee and energy drinks filled the room.
At around 3 AM I started thinking that he was never going to come. But my frontyard camera detected some movements, and I could hear steps on grass from outside. I turned off the screens, and the room turned dark. Adrenaline started rushing through my veins as I picked up the gun and pointed it at the door in anticipation.
The door made a quiet click and it slowly began to open. I pressed the trigger as soon as I had the man in sight. His body dropped limp on the floor with a loud thump.
I enjoyed it.
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[ WP ] An astronaut in the ISS realizes they are probably the last human alive
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It turns out T. S. Elliot was wrong, the world did end with a bang. I know because I watched it unfold from 250 miles away. I've been watching it unfold for months though I never thought it would actually happen. Some pompous diplomat or careless official decided to press the big red button and now everything is fucked. Some twisted side of me almost wished this would happen; between the disease and the crime and all the other side effects of the human condition something needed to happen. But now that it is here, now that this has actually happened... oh *fuck*! And I just watched, like a fly on the wall and a sick thought in the back of my head almost wishing this would happen. But none of that matters now -- nothing fucking matters. Everyone and everything is dead ( *bye bye birdie hahaha* ) and I'm floating around this now desolate rock like I'm on some goddamn merry-go-round. I can almost hear the carnival music ( *Step right up, step right up! Come see the Earth commit suicide by use of nuclear weapons! Why, it'll only cost you a few moments of your time and soul crushing isolation until your dying breath! * ). Oh shit, that never even occurred to me: I'm all alone. This was just supposed to be repair mission, so there are n't even other crew members aboard. Fuck! ( *Ohh what's the matter young man, the carnival food not agreeing with you?! You look a little green around the gills! Perhaps it's the spinning from the Merry-Go-Round! All you have to do is... * ) I need to keep focus, otherwise I'll snap ( *... just get off the ride! You'll feel much better, I swear! * ). And if I do n't get a grip I'll use more oxygen than I can afford. ( *Looks like you could use some fresh air, kiddo! * ). Right! How could I not think of that?! I wo n't use up all the oxygen if I just ( *You'll feel much better, I swear! * ) open the hatch ( *You'll feel much better... * )
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[ WP ] the protagonist bases all his decisions based on a magic 8 ball
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`` The thing people ask me the most is how was it that I managed to get myself invited to an orgy with Jake
Gyllenhaal, Taylor Swift and Lonesome George, the last surviving Pinta Island tortoise, before it died. The tortoise. Not Taylor or Jake.
When people ask me to show them a picture, I always do, and they always get a little grossed out.
The second thing people ask me the most is about the forty five day hike through the desert and my time at Area 51. But I'm not allowed to talk about that under penalty of being killed by the CIA, so I usually just change the subject.''
I look at the bearded, thin figure sitting in lotus position in front of me. Then I look away. Then back at the figure.
`` Do you want me to tell you'', he goes on. `` About my orgy with Jake Gyllen—''
`` No! No, I do n't want you to tell me about your orgy with Jake and Taylor and George!'' I sigh, tired. The sky's gray. It's going to rain, probably. `` I want you to tell me how on Earth does a man manages to do so many interesting things with one life.''
This man – this lonesome bearded figure in the middle of the Mojave Desert – it's Jim.
Magic Jim, some people call him. Jimmy Dice, others. Eight Ball James ( though that's an unfortunate one, when
you think about it ). But he just calls himself Jim.
People travel the world for a chance to meet him. Which is kind of hard to do, since he is, himself, also
traveling around the world all the time. He's happy to meet anyone who comes to him– providing the ball tells him it's ok – but he'll keep doing what he's doing while you talk. So it's kind of hard.
People have had to climb mountains alongside him whilst asking for the meaning of life. Talk about life experiences
and Buddhism and transcendence during balloon flights over Malaysia. Swim with sharks while discussing Kierkegaard and Sartre.
All kinds of weird shit.
I got lucky he's just meditating near Las Vegas tonight, is what I got. Lucky.
`` I ca n't help you there. All I do is what the ball tells me to do'', he says now, eyes closed. I feel the first drops of
what is definitely rain fall hard against my shoulder. Crap.
`` For the love of God, every kids has had one of these balls!'' I yell, frustrated. `` And they did n't get to be crowned
king of the Falkland Islands!''
He chuckles. `` That was a fun day.''
I'm disappointed, I got ta tell you. This guy is a worldwide legend. Sure, I know his eight ball guides his
actions, or whatever. Everyone knows that. But c'mon, I traveled a long way to see him. I'm in the middle of the desert and – yeap, it's definitely raining now. Raining right over my stupid, gullible head.
Do n't I deserve something more? A life lesson? Anything!
`` You want a complete answer'', he says, suddenly. `` You want me to tell you that you need to find your inner peace
and know yourself and transcend your soul, so that you can face life in a new light, and then… then things will
happen to you.''
I smile. *New age crap! This is what I'm talking about! * `` Yes! Yes, this is what I want. Enlighten me! Teach me how to live!''
`` So you can experience life to the fullest, and then write about it on your little writing forum.''
`` Yes! Exactly!''
He opens his eyes. `` I'm sorry. I ca n't help you.''
It's officially night, and raining pretty hard now. I hear thunder.
He sighs. `` Following the eight ball is *really* all I do. I have no spiritual advice. I have no great truth. It's all just
random. For real.''
`` Ge the fuck out of here.''
He rearranges himself on the sand. The rain does n't seem to bother him in the slightest. `` Look, people want to
hear that life is hard and complicated, and that there is a long process to illumination and true happiness. The four noble truths. The eight fold path. Jesus' lessons in the bible. Whatever. But the truth is –'' He smiles, whipping raindrops away from his face. `` -- life's pretty interesting on its own. If you just let it carry you, and you keep a positive attitude, you'll see a lot of cool shit.''
`` Eight ball James'', I say, calmly, crouching to his eye level. `` You had sex with all the James Bond actors at once during a Guns n Roses concert.''
`` Yes.''
`` This kind of stuff does n't just *happen*.''
The rain – it's awful now. I can barely hear him. `` Buy an eight ball'', he says. `` And follow it. *No matter what. *''
`` That's really all you do?''
He smiles again. `` Start right now. From the moment you get back to your car, let an eight ball decide your whole
life. Things will happen. I promise.''
I nod, getting up again. I should go back. Find a place to stay for the night. `` Thanks'', I whisper, turning around to
leave. Maybe I should really do it. I mean, I doubt it will get me anywhere....
But maybe. Who knows? Right?
I'm halfway to my car when I turn back. `` Wait'', I scream, trying to get my voice over the sound of the heavy rain. Jim looks up at me. `` If I should start right now, how do I decide if I should buy the ball or not?''
Again, Jim smiles. I think I even hear a chuckle, this time.
`` Now you are asking the important questions, Alpaca'', he says. `` Now you are learning.''
…
…
…
And that was fucking it! I'm soaked in my car in the middle of the desert now and I do n't know what to do!
Fucking new age bullshit, man. It gets to you.
EDIT: I bought the damn eight ball.
I asked it,'should I have bought you?' and it answered,'Outlook not so good.'
So I threw it away and went home and watched girl on girl porn.
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[ WP ] Tell me the story of a man without a shadow or reflection
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Some say demons only come out at night and that darkness feeds their every need. They prey on unsuspecting victims who are unable to react. Darkness has become my ally, my only friend, and my refuge. You see, my demons only come out in the light. They taunt me, never far from sight. It was not always like this. I don ’ t remember the exact date it began. Time means little to me now and there is no way to track it in my current state. I was abandoned. Not by family or friends. They tried to help but they didn ’ t understand. He abandoned me. My protector and the only thing standing between me and so many demons was gone. He was a silent guardian who followed me everywhere. I wish I could describe him but in all these years I seemed to have forgotten what he looked like. I don ’ t even know what I look like anymore. The day he left was the day I lost everything.
The sun was starting to set telling me my day at the factory was coming to an end. As I walked out the door I heard this high pitched maniacal laughing. I turned quickly but only one other person was in the shop and he was hard at work. I imagined I was hearing things and kept walking. The factory is set a couple miles from the town where I lived so I set out on my daily walk home. I saw the first few people after coming over the hill. A bunch of children playing baseball in the road. As I approached I heard a scream of terror that chilled the skin. I turned around in panic trying to identify the source but nothing. What made me most uncomfortable was that the children kept playing their game as if nothing had happened. It was as if this was a daily occurrence that could be blocked out. I picked up my pace as I wanted to get home as quickly as possible. Between the laugh at the factory and scream on the road the day had been most unsettling. I did not live far from the edge of the town and would be there soon. I entered the town near the butcher shop with its big glass window and red lettering. A young couple were walking the opposite direction as me as I past the butcher shop. Out shoulder collided and the young woman dropped the box that was in her hand. I quickly bent down to grab it for her as I apologized. The man was saying something as I stood back up facing the window but I do not know what it was for I was so shaken. Staring back at me in the window was perfect copies of the man and the woman but they were not reflections. They were not oriented the same way as the couple. No, they were facing me. Starting at me with cold, dead eyes. I stared for what seemed like hours but was more likely seconds. There they stood with those eyes and a twisted grin but something was missing. I was missing. Even if I could not explain these figures the mirror still showed the reflection of the street. I had no reflection. I quickly turned and ran. Laughter started filling the air around me causing me to trip over a crate. As I pulled myself up, my gaze fell into a puddle and it was blank.
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[ WP ] Your train stops in the middle of nowhere , the doors slide open , the staff have vanished , then you hear it .
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I stand and begin walking towards the front of the train.
`` Hello?'' I mumble under my breath.
Looking around, I notice im nowhere near any city or town. in fact, it appears as though the train tracks continue out across the seemingly never ending desert sand.
`` Hellooo!?'' I yell at the top of my lungs, as I step out onto the hot sand.
The sand filling the sides of my shoes, making my feet fairly hot.
`` Is anybody th-'' I stop as I look ahead at a rectangular black shape standing alone about 20 yards away from me.
I'm frozen, and completely unable to make a sound. Then, steadily, the black shape behind to open like a door, completely silent in doing so. As it opens to reveal a bright light, I notice the slight outline of a man in the light.The man begins to walk out of the white light, and into the deserts sand. As he walked, he seemed to almost materialize before my eyes. And he got closer, I could see his off-grey suit and tie, and his disturbingly white skin; he was deathly pale.
He continued walking forward until or faces were practically touching. His greenish-grey eyes staring silently into mine.
`` Tick-tock... It appears as though - time has - gotten away from you - yet again...'' he says in a dull voice, occasionally pausing every few words.
At first we were both silent, but then I heard it.
The ground began to tremble, steadily growing more aggressive, as a deep rumbling growl raged behind me. I look down at the mysterious man's hand, and notice its pointing silently behind me. As I turn my head, I see what I can only describe as a towering mushroom cloud of flame just beyond the still empty train. Despite the obvious danger, I felt almost calmed by it, due to its slow moving nature, almost as though it was slowed in time.
I look back towards the man that had approached me, all I see is the same empty desert I had been greeted with originally.
As I close my eyes, the rumbling grows louder, and the ground continues to shake violently beneath me. I fall to my knees, as I feel time begin to speed up again. I close my eyes tighter, as the searing heat, and deafening sounds consume me.
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[ WP ] A six year old child walks up to you and tugs on your sleeve . He does n't say anything out loud , but in your mind you hear the request as clear as day . `` I am God and I need you to protect me . ''
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Fuck. This. Bitch.
It's a fucking coffee, it's not that fucking hard to figure the fuck out.
He glanced around the coffee shop. Fucking degenerates, he thought. Human herd. I hate this fucking place, these fucking animals, this whole fucking town.
He handed over his debit card. Fuck you, bitch. He smiled. Have a great day, he says, his eyes twinkling, his mouth pulling up at the corners, enthusiasm in his voice; it sounds so genuine that she smiles back. He met her eyes with his smile, took his receipt and his coffee, and walked to the end of the counter to wait for his sandwich. That leaves what, 23 fucking dollars? 25? Why the fuck do I even try. I should spend today blowing my fucking brains across the ceiling of my fucking apartment.
No, you fucking loser. You tried that once already and managed to fuck even that up. So now you're stuck with this shitty fucking existence until a fucking truck hits you or a fucking meteor lands on your fucking head or your heart fucking explodes or some fucking shit gets you out of this without pissing off your family. Fuck. This. Shit.
And yet, for whatever reason, you seem to be stuck here, he thought. Here's your fucking coffee, where's your fucking sandwich? Yeah, hurry the fuck up so you can get back to your shitty fucking apartment and sit around all day because you're too fucking broke to go out and do anything. Enjoy your shitty fucking day off, you fucking loser. Fuck.
He felt a tug at his sleeve. A fucking kid. What the fuck? Is this how people raise fucking kids these days? Where the fuck are your fucking parents you fucking rat? He smiles, says nothing, and glances around for the concerned adult this future waste of taxpayer dollars belongs to. What. The. Fuck.
The kid tugs again. Why the fuck is it touching me? He smiles again at the top of its head, weighing his options. This is gon na start to look weird, he though. Address the kid? Not from above. Think about the movies, what do the endearing coaches, mentors, father figures, older brothers do? What will give the positive image to the observer? He squats down so he's at eye level with the little boy.
Where are your parents, he asks? The boy looks up from his ragged shoes and meets his eyes.
The boy's eyes are a deep blue, flecked with yellow, like his own. He feels a roaring sound come rushing into his ears. The Dunkin Donuts freezes in time and goes completely silent, as if someone just hit the pause button on the universe. He gasps for breath, his mind racing to process all that the boy is showing to him with his gaze: a thousand universes race by, time swirls and circles in upon itself, the intersections of billions of lives brushing up against each other, unspeakable horror, indescribable suffering, cruelties, tortures, abominations beyond imagination, fear, sadness, indomitable hope, tenderness, compassion, gentleness, scenes of desperation, of sacrifice, of healing, of mercy, selflessness, and irrepressible love. Throughout it all, love. The common thread of every living being, binding each moment to each other no matter where it existed in time or space, inextricably linked. Love, rising and shining from the depths of evil. Love, blazing like the morning sun. Love, whispering like the cool breeze of a hot summer day. Love, soothing like a warm, soft, rain. Love. Love. Love.
His soul shattered like a piece of fine porcelain hit with a sledgehammer. His heart screamed in his chest, writhing in the agony of a thousand shards of pain and anger as they exploded within him. A rush, like that of warm blood, poured down from somewhere within his shoulders and washed away the pain almost instantaneously. Indescribable joy welled up within him, elation, ebullience. He wanted to shout, to sing, to laugh but time was still paused and the sound choked in his throat. Instead, tears began to stream down his face. The boy embraced him and he shook with gratitude, happiness, relief.
The barista dropped long before the sound came back. He squatted there, watching her, confused. The deafening sound of the next shot brought reality rushing back and he saw the two men standing near the door that opened onto the parking lot, methodically shooting into the crowd. His body tensed and he began to spring toward the main entrance and the safety of the street. It was two long steps he figured and if he moved with the stampeding crowd he was likely to be fine.
The boy. What of the boy? He panicked briefly and calculated if he could afford to waste a glance. Curiosity overcame him and he threw a glance over his shoulder, feeling the cool metal of the door frame in his groping hand and the door swinging open against his push.
The boy had not moved and seemed to be waiting for him to look back. The boys eyes serenely met his gaze. He looked again at the gunmen. One was pointing to the boy, the other was looking at him from behind the black balaclava as he fumbled with the charging handle of his rifle and began to raise it to his shoulder again.
He thought of what he had seen, of the threads of human existence, of the love that wove its way undiminished through time and space, of his own life, of his pleas to be released from this burden or given a purpose. As his mind accepted what he already knew to be true the boy said it with him:
I am God and I need you to protect me.
His soul thrilled at the words, his heart leapt in his chest, a wave of delirious joy swept his whole body, revitalizing his limbs. The air tasted so sweet, the sunshine so warm. Never had there been such a beautiful day of existence.
With a blissful smile, he turned from the door and started back across the room.
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[ WP ] Write a Letter to your future self ( minimum 10 years from now ) about lessons learned in 2015 .
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Olivia,
Twenty-eight, huh? I wonder if you still remember what it's like to be eighteen. It's nearly eleven am right here and right now, in 2015 as the year slowly draws to a close. It's really warm for December, you hardly need a jacket. It feels colder inside the dealership than it does outside.
I keep on taking second long breaks to watch the clouds roll by outside. Does the world still amaze you in ways that you do n't even understand? I hope it does, still feeling wonder at this age seems to be a rare thing.
You might be married by now. Eighteen seems like it's too young to be this in love but you and I both know that we were never the type to aimlessly fall for people. I hope you have n't fucked it up because, honestly, I ca n't think of life without these two. I hope that we all realize our dreams of living together. Maybe time will change things but I hope the only thing that time will change will perhaps be where you live, not who you're with. And you might be married to one of them with the other living with you as well.
You might even be thinking about children in the next few years. Hopefully you're able to do so financially. I never really wanted kids until recently but I do n't want them in the near future. You're reaching thirty soon, thirty seems like a good time.
I hope you do n't still think of him. You might know who I'm talking about but there's a huge part of me that hopes that you've forgotten about him. Maybe the pain he's caused you wo n't hurt anymore. Just know that you were never his to control in the first place. He does n't own you. You own you... though I suppose that I should practice what I preach. I hope that you truly believe this at your age.
Another thing, just keep writing and keep moving forward. I hope you're stable enough to explore the world before you settle down with your husband and your boyfriend and have a few kids before you hit forty.
The future is a scary thought but thinking about you, about me, being truly and utterly happy makes it seem a lot less scary.
In 2015, I learned to truly love myself and to truly love others. I hope that I keep learning more and more about that. I plan to be an expert by the end of 2025, so that's on you.
All the best,
Olivia. 12/15/15. 10:58.
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[ WP ] Anatidaephobia : The fear that somewhere , somehow , a duck is watching you . You are that duck , watching them . Always .
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They took my father almost exactly one year ago.
Like father, like son, right? My dad and I looked almost entirely alike. Some of the other ducks said someone must've cloned my dad, because we were pretty much identical, down to each individual feather. We went everywhere together. We ate together, we swam together, we flew together, we slept together. My dad was my world, he was the one I imprinted on when I hatched from my shell, and I knew we'd always be together.
Until they came. Humans. A family of humans came to the park with a net, and threw it over my dad. They were trying to abduct him. We fought them, we fought them together, him inside the net, and me outside. We bit, we scratched, we batted at them with our wings. Like father, like son, right? But they were simply too large and too strong. They put my dad into a sack and took him away in a car.
I took to the air and followed the car. They drove to a house, not far from the park. I watched as they took the sack into the house. Then I watched, through the kitchen window, as they... as they... as they killed my father. They killed him, and mutilated his body. They plucked out his feathers, cut off his head, poured sauce over his body, then cooked him in an oven until his body was a charred crisp. And then, as I watched, they cut my father into pieces, wrapped the flesh in large flat pieces of dough, and devoured him.
I've watched them since that day. I watch them when they wake, I watch them when they leave the house, I watch them when they return, and I watch them when they sleep. It's been a year now. I know their whole routine. I know when they go to work or school. I know when they go to the park together, on weekends. I know when they sleep, and I know they'll be most vulnerable then.
Oh I make sure they do n't know I'm watching. That's why I try to only look at them out of the corner of my eye, so that it's not obvious I'm observing their every move. Sometimes I slip up. Sometimes they can tell there's a duck watching them. I fly away, and pluck out a few feathers so I look different, and then I come back. Then they do n't know the same duck's come back to stare at them. Humans, they're so stupid.
It's almost time. Soon, when they sleep, I'll put the rest of my plan in motion. They'll pay for what they did to my father. Like father, like son, right? They turned my dad into a Peking Duck. Well, now they'll have to deal with me, the peeking duck.
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[ WP ] A normal , everyday bike ride takes an unexpected turn when you find a new gear on your bike . You 've never seen it before . Beside it , there 's a strange symbol you do n't recognize . What happens when you switch to that gear ?
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The symbol was an upside-down seven. Somehow, I related it to the number *e* from my calculus class.
I put my thumb on the shifter with extreme tripidation. `` What happens when I switch to *e? *'' I thought. It seemed to be written in alien symbols.
I had no choice but to push it down.
Once I did, red became blue. Purple became green, and green became a deeper green. I was hooked. Until the post-boy.
The local post office had given a young boy $ 5 an hour to deliver heavy packages to houses. He was in the middle of the road, pedaling as hard as he could, as I approached him with exponential velocity.
`` Get outta da way!'' I shouted. His eyes met mine, and they froze. He pedaled furiously.
When I raced by him, I spun him around several times. `` Are you okay,'' I shouted back, hopeless to stop the exponential speed of my bicycle.
`` Yeah, you jerk,'' he shouted. `` Lem me get some of that exponential speed.''
It was then that I awoke from calculus class.
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[ WP ] You wake up tomorrow to find that World War III had begun but not in the place or for the reasons anyone ever expected
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( First post on this subreddit, hope it goes well! )
The wail of the sirens echoed like the voice of God tearing open the sky. My eyes opened at the touch of a hazy beam of light, and as my chapped lips cracked together, the radio sputtered to life. `` Attention. Attention. The insects are attacking. All citizens are advised to find the following bug sprays, and remain indoors...'' I shut off the radio. Could it be April Fool's day? Had my Van Winkle finally been ripped? Blearily, I stumbled out of bed and pawed at the wall-mounted calender. February. Was I dreaming?
I approached the window to draw back the faded and tattered drapes, and with each step, I perceived a thrum which steadily grew into a cacophony, emerging like a seed of foreboding in my heart, I wrenched the fabric apart --
A swarm of insects! A cloud of billowing beetles beat angrily against my window! Transfixed by horror, I watched their furious jaws colliding with my smudged glass, crushing the slower of their ilk into a viscous paste of green hemolymph and viscera.
My stare was interrupted by my legs, as they failed me. I stumbled backward into the nightstand and clutched at my radio, as if to shield myself from the unearthly spectacle from which I could not look away.
Click.
``... appears as though they came from the ground, although it is not yet clear how they have mustered these numbers. We have known for some time that bugs greatly outnumber humans on this planet, but we have no idea how they become so intelligent. There are reports of bombardier beetles carrying out actual bombing runs in...''
My trembling fingers pulled desperately at the dial, as if to hope that it could alter reality itself. The voice of a smooth female announcer brought the headlines to my cognizance. `` In world news today, China has declared war on the United Kingdom, claiming that British Intelligence engineered the global insect crisis. Earlier today, the United Nations Security Council authorized the the use of nuclear weapons as a last resort against the bugs. Breaking news, Israel has allegedly launched nuclear...''
I could n't listen to any more. It was n't real. This is n't reality.
A loud screech which sent bolts of lightning down my spine. The keratinous mandibles of the insects began to leave visible cracks on the window. It's just a dream. I saw the pane begin to give way. Only a nightmare. I pinched myself again and again. Their jaws pinched the newly-made hole. They screamed through, their voices as shrill as a newborn, yet as powerful as a force of nature. I laughed into the flood of darkness.
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[ WP ] You are about to die . Write as if you 're currently experiencing your very last moments .
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As I lie here being trampled to death by a gaggle of punks I thought back to the first time I had heard a sex pistol song. I was about 13 and it came on the radio one evening, at the time I was a bit down and depressed with school, an thinking of suicide. The opening lines were `` we are the pistols and no one like us, and we do n't care'' these lines changed my out look on life and got me through school alive. These lines are also responsible for current situation. As I lie here dying im happy, the pistols are playing live I have fallen over in the mosh pit and I do n't care. I can die a happy man.
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[ WP ] `` What 's that mounted over your fireplace ? '' `` That 's my Grandma 's femur . ''
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August 9th, 2017
`` That's my grandma's femur. Kind of a momento.''
`` My condolences. When did she pass?''
`` She did n't.''
`` Pardon?''
`` Let me explain..''
December 16, 2016
`` Looks like the procedure was a complete success. Congratulations Norma, you're the first fully-integrated bionic human. You're going to live forever.''
These were the first words she heard after regaining consciousness.
Norma was 73 years young. After a grueling 8 months of back-to-back surgeries, she would never again have to worry about her age limiting her livelihood.
They had completely replaced every piece of organic material in her body, one bit at a time. Her bones were made of tungsten, skin replaced with a titanium shell. An intricate system of hydraulic pistons allowed her mobility. Her internal organs were removed completely later in the process, as the necessity for them was replaced by 3d printed robotics. Her eyes were now advanced optics capable of up to 40x zoom, thermal and infrared imaging.
The most difficult part of the procedure was keeping her brain intact while all memories and data stored on the brain were transferred to an IBM-powered motherboard.
Now capable of superhuman strength, agility and surgical precision in all tasks, she was nearly perfect, all while keeping her personality unchanged.
Norma remained silent, and while it could n't be seen from her cold, metallic face, she was smiling for the first time in years.
`` Norma?''
`` Yes, doctor?''
`` Are you feeling alright?''
`` Yes dear, I feel more alive than ever.''
`` What do you plan on doing now that the world is your oyster?''
`` Well sweetie, I've computed 33,642 options in the past 2.6 seconds, and I've decided. I'm gon na destroy Tokyo.''
The doctor laughed. Norma still had her odd sense of humor.
August 9, 2017
`` Your grandma's Norma Grey?! Like, *the* Norma Grey, Destroyer of Cities, Enslaver of All Mankind?!''
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[ WP ] Horror in Space ( details below )
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The corridor was a long, narrow passage, unlit save for the passing red of the alarm. The red coating swirled across the metal walls, illuminating what was behind their shadows for a moment, and sunk into the lightless rooms and alcoves. The ship rumbled around its orbit, shaking the air inside it into an incessant drumming of noise. A noise so deeply ingrained in the crew that it went unnoticed until the piercing shriek of an alarm cut it open. And then, one could never forget the drumming.
Deep below, one could see the earth. If the windows were n't covered in paper. A dull, crinkled brown that had none of the light show through.
`` They say it's the final frontier, Captain. Pretty final for us, eh?'' Bors murmured to himself. He did n't need to address the captain by his title; no one did, especially not the captain. But Bors was n't looking for conversation, he was looking anyone. He moved about the ship every time the red light passed, moving to where it flashed on the ground, then stopping. He had begun to adjust to the darkness, not in the way he expected. `` Captain?... Someone?''
At first, he watched the shadows as the light flitted by, as fleeting as things he did not want to think about. `` They say the more you stare into the abyss, the more it stares into you... Captain,'' his voice was almost a whimper, a plea and not a statement. The drumming undercurrent wailed on. The alarm illuminated him once more, barely flashing by his suit. `` In the depths of your mind, you see more than you could ever see, Captain.'' He pondered, and stepped forward. `` More than you could ever want to see.'' he plead.
He gulped when the darkness engulfed him once more. He did n't like to think about it, because thinking about it is what makes you... think about it. `` Makes you think about it all, Captain...'' he mouthed, staring blankly at a wall. `` Here it comes,'' he tensed his muscles, another dry gulp bulged in his throat.
The light flickered by. Another step.
In that one moment when the drumming died, when the blinking red gaze fell upon their ship, was when they knew true silence. They had looked at each other then, right past sagging cheeks and through the cavity of the pupil. They bored deep into each other's heads, each other's faces, searching for a movement. A tic, a twitch, a blink. Something that they themselves were n't doing. Nothing, they were still.
`` What people call silence is n't silence...'' Bors stepped into the light again. It is what we think of actual silence. Real silence could only ever be heard where there is no sound, where it is soundless. Soundless, yes, that was right.
The emptiness, when you can hear nothing, not even the sounds of being alive. Not even the familiar hearbeat of the ship. Not even your own breath. Soundless. A void.
Bors smiled as the light burned into one of the connecting rooms. It was just a hint, just a piece of a hint. But it was a foot, and it was moving its vulnerable toes, and its cloth was ruffled, and it was soundless. Bors waited for the light to pass by him again. Not so he could see, but so they could. The darkest expression, the gaunt face of a gargoyle and less of a man, this was what they all felt when the soundlessness first cut into them. This was what they all should have felt after. Bors' face was almost carved in reddened stone, cheeks reflecting stray beams of light, mouth permanently agape. He gulped once more, followed by a satisfied stream of exhaled breath.
The foot twitched and shuffled further into the dark of the room. Bors knew it moved, Bors knew it made a noise. `` But do I really?'' he mumbled almost inaudibly. Bors knew there should be noise, and Bors' mind made him think there was noise. That was how it always was, there was n't ever any sound. There was only the idea of sound, what we thought was... noise never really was. We just told ourselves it was there, we just told ourselves lies to escape the soundless. Bors understood this, but he was the only one. He had taken it upon himself to prove this hypothesis.
The light flew by one more. The sides of Bors' head were unusually flat, devoid of any protruding features. A trail of blood ran down both sides, now bulging with fresh drops. He almost quivered at the soundlessness. They must know.
Bors raised his arm, and the knife it held. `` Hello, Captain.''
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[ WP ] More than these bones
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Every couple has their little intimacies. Not like sex, that ’ s a whole different kind of intimate. That ’ s the easy kind of intimate, the fleeting kind that can be gone in the morning. The real intimacy, the kind that endures, comes from sharing a piece of yourself with someone else.
Sometimes it ’ s as simple as a pet name, unabashedly parading your love for everyone to hear. In other cases, the keeping of a deeply guarded secret fills that role. In either case, that thing, whatever it is, is as much a part of the relationship as the people in it. It grows along with the couple, nurtured by honesty and strengthened by time.
For Manolo and Laila, they had a running joke. They ’ d told it thousands of times, but it never got old. It ’ d started when they first got serious, the first time that Laila had felt comfortable enough to complain about her weight around Manolo.
Now, Manolo was no fool. Even by stereotypical cheesy rom-com standards, this one was a no-brainer. He knew he was supposed to reassure his girlfriend, and that it was up to him to convince her that she was not F-A-T.
Of course, Manolo did it in a very typical Manolo way, with humor.
“ No, babe, you ’ re all skin and bones! ”
One look at the goofy grin on Manolo ’ s face, and Laila lost all pretense of being upset. He had a way of cheering her up, saying just the right goofy thing to lighten the mood when she needed it. She laughed and laughed, surprising even Manolo. *This one ’ s a keeper*, she thought to herself through tears of laughter.
It wouldn ’ t be the last time, either. Every now and then, Laila ’ s insecurities about her body popped up again, and every time, Manolo reminded Laila that she was all skin and bones. It made her smile, each and every time.
Years later, when he proposed to Laila, Manolo asked if she would have him for the rest of her life. She squealed out an immediate “ yes! ” and jumped into his arms. Manolo couldn ’ t resist. He cracked his joke once again.
“ I ’ ll love you forever. Until we ’ re both old. Until you ’ re skin and bones. Well, even less skin and bones than you are now. ”
Laila ’ s tears of joy mixed in with a few tears of laughter, and her heart swelled. She knew with all her heart that he was the one for him. No one else had ever come close to making her feeling this way.
It wasn ’ t long after that Laila got pregnant, and they welcomed a daughter to their family. Exhausted from labor, Laila lay in bed recuperating for hours. When she finally woke up, Manolo was waiting by her bedside.
“ Hey, babe. How you feeling? ”
“ Tired, Manny. ”
“ I ’ m so proud of you. Your skin and bones did great. Even made more little skin and bones, ” he said with a glowing smile.
Laila returned the smile. Perhaps hers had a little less oomph to it, but it had no less emotion behind it.
The next trip to the hospital, however, was under much worse circumstances. Laila ’ s car had been T-boned by some idiot who ran a red light. By the time Manolo got to the hospital with their daughter in tow, Laila had taken a turn for the worse. The doctors tried everything they could, but she ended up in a coma with no brain activity.
For Manolo, the waiting was the worst. There was nothing he could do, there was nothing anyone could do. All he could do was wait in agony, hoping against hope that he could see Laila ’ s smile again.
On the third day after the accident, the doctors gave him the bad news. Somewhere deep down, he ’ d started to suspect it, but he ’ d refused to believe it. Logic had no place in the part of him reserved for Laila. That place was full of memories and emotions, of secret rendezvous on school nights and the little mole only he knew about. Yet reality is a harsh mistress, and she dared intrude in even that sacred place where Manolo kept Laila.
Manolo wanted to scream, he wanted to rage. She was young still, and the best wife a man could hope for. How could the world do this? How could the fates be so cruel? His grief threatened to consume him, to make him numb to the world.
But one look at his daughter made him stop the nonsense. She looked like the spitting image of her mother. He took one long breath, and let it out.
“ Come here, *mija*. ”
“ Okay, Daddy. ”
“ You know how your Mom is hurting and she ’ s trying to wake up? She ’ s hurt too bad, *mija*. She can ’ t wake up. ”
“ No! She has to! She ’ s my Mommy! ”
Manolo could feel the edges of his eyes start to tear up, but he continued on.
“ I know, *mija*. But she ’ s not getting any better. We ’ re just making it worse if we keep her on that machine. ”
She was smart like her mom, too. It only took a couple of seconds for the words to make sense to her.
“ But what ’ s going to happen to her? ”
He couldn ’ t keep it together any more. The tears flowed, and there was nothing he could do to stop them.
“ She ’ ll live on … in our hearts. She ’ s more than skin …, ” Manolo choked out through sobs, not able to finish the sentence. “ … more than skin and bones. Always has been. ”
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[ WP ] A meme finds and enters a portal to the real world .
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`` Wow'', the dog said.
`` What? ``, I said. I was in a hurry, but you do n't meet talking dogs every day.
`` Such busy'', the dog said. Of course, I should not expected perfect English grammar from a dog.
`` Where are your owners?'' I ask. It is a handsome dog. Looks well cared for. Probably not a stray. And, well, *someone* must have taught it to talk.
`` No owner'', the dog said. Well, the owner must be stupid not to have taught his own name to his talking dog.
`` Wow'', the dog said again.
`` What? ``, I said, looking around. `` Which marvel of daily life keeps astounding you?''
`` All the things! Such people. Many car. Much speed. Many scare.''
Well, he was a dog. Of course he would be excited about everything.
I had a sudden thought. Remember how there was a dog voice chip in `` Up''? What if some one has actually invented it? That would be pretty cool. I knelt down and started looking for a chip, a device, something like that.
`` Wow! such curious'', the dog said.
Alright, this was getting a *little* annoying.
`` Many ball? Much play? ``, the dog said.
`` I do n't have time to play now,... dog. ``, I said. I did not know what to call him. `` I must go.''
`` Doge'', he said.
`` What? ``, I said.
`` Doge. Such names. Many funny'', he replied.
`` Well, doge, it was nice meeting you. I must go now.''
`` Much byes'', the dog said.
The last I saw him, the dog was sitting regally on the sidewalk, saying `` Wow!'' over and over.
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[ WP ] Describe a day in the life of the Other Devil , who rules over Hell 's less extreme counterpart , Heck .
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`` Next victim,'' said Phil, the Prince of Insufficient Light. A nervous looking man with pointy hair walked in. `` Let's see... You took the last of the coffee in your break room, without refilling the pot. For this hideous crime, you will... sit next to the accountants during lunch, and hear their boring conversations for all eternity!'' Screaming, the horrible coworker was led out, and the next was brought in.
`` Well well, you have loud conversations on your phone at work, *and* click your pen repeatedly? I have a special punishment for *you*'' Phil grinned menacingly at the cowering lady, enjoying every second of his job. `` You will be a simple secretary, but you'll be forced to endure your coworkers asking you for pens, and saying horrible things like'working hard or hardly working?' for the rest of your unmercifully long life!'' At this, the woman fainted, unable to bear her fate. Phil laughed an evil laugh, he truly loved his job.
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[ WP ] A world in which cannibalism is considered as normal as eating vegetables or chicken
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`` And this is where we keep them'' Frank said to the interns. The space he was referring to was made of concrete and several stories tall. Upon entering, they saw that center of the building was hollow and all around them were cells with bars in front of them.
`` We do n't keep the prisoners in this building for obvious reasons, but management wants me to explain it all to you. We keep them separated since the prisoners generally know how speech works and talking leads to resistance. Best to keep those raised here and those brought here separated.'' Frank brought them closer to one of the cells as he spoke, `` I must remind you to stay quiet in this building and not talk much louder than I am now if you wish to speak.''
The beasts inside were completely bare and shaven. One particularly angry beast stuck her arm through the bars and bared her teeth at the group gathered outside the cage. The smell that emanated from the cage was too much for one group member to bear and he ran outside to puke. Frank disregarded him, motioning for rest of the group to keep moving as he lead them through the vast room of cells to two wide swinging doors.
Behind the doors was a laboratory of sorts, but one that relied on customization and did n't require people to oversee. There were tubes, thick enough for a large person to slide through that went up, down and sideways with a glowing blue liquid inside them. At the end of the hallway like laboratory and its web of tubes was a wall of pods filled with the same liquid. Frank lead them to these pods and gave the group a better look as to what was inside them.
The interns peered inside each of the pods and some took notes. The product was in all sorts of development phases in the pods. Some were just embryos and others were near full growth. One intern even liked her lips.
Frank gave them proper time to analyze the containers before speaking to them, `` Any questions? ``
One intern asked, `` How are the adults bigger than those outside of captivity?''
`` Their genetics have been manipulated so that they take on more weight with less food'' Frank did n't wait for any more questions to be asked so her continued, `` Well if there are no more questions to be asked, would all like to fry up one of these humans for dinner?''
The group nodded and Frank turned a dial on one of the pods, sending an infant through the system of tubes that lead to the fryer.
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[ WP ] Year 2040 , you are tasked with rebooting Harry Potter franchise . Write the first few paragraphs of `` Harry Potter Begins '' .
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**EDIT**: I took `` rebooting'' the series as reviving it with a sequel series. This is supposed to take place fifteen years after the events of Deathly Hallows.
-- --
Rabastan raised his wand to cut back another thick vine.
`` *Sectumsempra*!''
At least something that vile traitor Snape had been good for. The spell cut right through the Devil's Snare, stinking sap spurting from the severed appendages, granting him passage. Rabastan had seen Snape as a comrade, especially after he'd taught him that useful spell. Bellatrix, though, she had always loathed Snape, suspected him.
*And she was right. What a fool I was. *
They'd killed her. Killed his sister! And he knew who had done it. That Weasley woman, blood traitor to all wizards. The Second Wizarding War had shown just how many blood traitors there were, lurking among them. Now, fifteen years later, preparations were being taken to make the presence of the wizard world known to the muggle scum. Good, decent wizards were now actually considering *harmony* with them. As if harmony could exist in a world where filth was allowed to thrive.
Rabastan smiled grimly, reaching a stone tomb and halting when he felt the presence of dark magic, making the hairs on his skin stand right up.
Tonight it would all change. He'd set the world right. He would succeed where Grindelwald had failed, where *Voldemort* had failed. All it required was the proper power.
`` *Sinistro ingressus! *''
With the sound of stone grinding on bone, the tomb's entrance moved, granting entrance to a dark crevice.
Rabastan walked through, lighting up his wand and casting haunting shadows against the macabre depictions on the walls. His smile vanished. This room did not allow happiness.
He walked up to the pedestal in the centre, and his heart made a jump when he saw the relic on its surface.
Morgana's pendant. They said that Morgan Le Fay had been the only wizard in Merlin's time that formed a threat to Merlin's so-called golden age. A time when muggles and wizards had known of each other and lived together... it made him want to puke. And it would happen again if he did n't put a stop to it.
Rabastan's hand trembled.
`` Come on, what are you so scared of?'' he hissed to himself. `` What's in front of you is your right... your *birthright*.''
The Lestranges were said to be descendants from the Le Fay bloodline. As the last surviving heir, *he* should be the one to take it! Rabastan's hand closed around the pendant, the metal cold against his skin... until a dark, immaterial warmth seeped through, filling his veins with bitterness and power, seeping upwards until his mind was dulled and his eyes claimed.
For a moment, Rabastan was blind. Then, a voice cut through the darkness, old and harsh.
`` Who is it that presumes to wake my slumber?''
`` Morgana?'' Rabastan rasped. `` I... I am your last heir, come to claim your power to stop the uprise of those without magic. I-''
`` I am not Morgana,'' the voice boomed. `` She was only the last one that sought to claim my powers. Eradicating muggles, you say?''
Rabastan could feel the thing inside the pendant touch his mind, tentatively seeking his memories.
`` Interesting. A lot has changed. Maybe the time has come for me to revisit the world.''
An image forced itself to him, a stout, red-haired woman with a fierce gaze. Rabastan felt his lips curl into a snarl.
`` Weasley.''
`` Yes. She will have to be killed by you, to prove your worthiness to my magic. Your memories have shown me she is a worthy foe. And then, should you succeed...''
A new image formed in front of Rabastan's eyes, this time of a young man with black hair and green eyes, and a scar on his forehead, shaped like a lightning bolt.
``... I have already decided on another victim for us to face.''
Rabastan finally discarded the fear that wrapped this tomb, and grinned, his hollow laughter filling the stone chamber with eerie echoes.
`` We think alike, my ancient friend,'' Rabastan grinned. `` Fear not, that wretched auror is second on my list. With your power, I will succeed where Voldemort himself failed.''
Rabastan took a sharp breath.
`` I will kill... the Boy Who Lived.''
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[ WP ] In the future , society 's worst criminals are not sentenced to death . They are sentenced to life .
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Going to really stretch this prompt, so bear with me.
***
The jury filed into the courtroom. It had been silent up until that point, and remained near silent still; the only sound being made was now the sound of the men's shoes and the women's heels clacking on the hardwood floor. They each seated themselves except for one man, a man wearing horn-rimmed glasses. His hair was salt and pepper grey, and his upper lip was twitching.
From nervousness or from excitement, Gregory Cole could n't say. It was more than likely excitement. How many times in your life did you get to say, `` I sentenced the Carpet Street Killer?''
Gregory tilted his head to the side, causing his neck to crack. He savored the sensation, knowing full well that it would be a long time until he would feel something like that again. Or would he feel it after he was sentenced? He was n't quite sure on the mechanics of being sentenced to *virtual life*.
`` We find the defendant, Gregory Cole, guilty.''
No clapping, no chatter, not even murmurs. The stuffed courtroom was silent.
`` Gregory,'' said a man standing somewhere near the courtroom. Greg was n't paying attention anymore. He was soaking all of *it* in. Not the ruling, not the fact that he was about to be sentenced, but all of the sensations that he was currently feeling. The way he could feel his toes touching themselves, the way his foot was nestled in its sock, and the sock in the shoe. The way his shirt clung to his chest, and the way the hard chair felt on his ass. He was savoring it. The way his tongue sat in his mouth, and the way his eyes felt in his skull. He had been told to enjoy it while he could by friends who had done shorter stints. *It feels a lot longer than you'd think*, they had said.
Still lost in his thoughts, Gregory Cole was pulled to his feet and dragged to the front of the courtroom, where a long table was. Draped over the table was a black cloth that hid the machine below it, the machine that Greg would be hooked into, and where he would serve out his sentence. They sat him down in a chair next to the table. Greg took note of how comfortable the chair was.
On top of the table was a cord, something resembling an auxiliary jack. The cord went down and under the table, supposedly plugged into the machine that was already whirring. The judge said something, but Gregory was n't paying attention.
`` Gregory Cole.''
Someone tapped him on the shoulder.
`` What?'' He answered, taking note of how his tongue felt when it clicked against his front teeth to make that hard **T** sound.
`` You are hereby sentenced to *virtual life*, three hundred years.''
Greg inhaled deeply. He would have wished his final breaths before entering the VR Prison would consist of fresh air, something found outside in a field far away from. If he had to choose, he would've taken his final breaths in the field behind the Skinny's BBQ joint, where he had buried Claire. There was something special about the way that upturned dirt smelled, especially mixed with the scent of Claire's blood and his own sweat. He inhaled deeply in through his nostrils, hoping to somehow catch a whiff of that smell again.
He got nothing but stale courtroom air.
A bailiff grabbed the cord and placed it behind Greg's left ear where the Neural-Jack was. He had n't inserted it just yet. It was almost as if he was teasing Greg, holding the cord just millimeters away from his NJ. As soon as the bailiff inserts the cord, Greg's mind would be locked away in a virtual prison, where he would serve out 300 years of life, in a matter of just a few seconds.
To Greg, time would go by slowly. His mind would sit in that gray prison, perched away on some technological cloud. No chance of escape, no need to be fed, no need to deal with waste, no nothing. Three hundred years of purgatory.
And on the outside, roughly five seconds will pass. The cord will be removed, and before the courtroom's very eyes, Greg will turn from a cold-hearted murderer, into a babbling, drooling, *idiot*.
And here the bailiff was standing, holding that cord right by his ear, tickling the back of his earlobe with it. Greg guessed it served him right; he had done something similar with Claire, holding his erect penis just inches away from her before plunging in. She had begged and pleaded to just get it done and over with, but that killed all the fun if there was n't any struggle. He repeated to the bailiff what she had said to him on the night of her death.
`` JUST DO IT!''
Tickling the back of his earlobe one last time as if to say *fuck you*, the bailiff finally inserted the plug.
The courtroom did n't vanish in a flash like Greg had expected it would. Instead it melted away slowly, as if the entire room had been made out of ice-cream and someone had forgotten to turn on the air conditioner. Greg rapidly blinked his eyes, hoping that it would speed up the transition from real world to virtual world, but no matter how many times he blinked, things just crawled at a slower and slower pace.
`` Is this it?'' he yelled at the jury, whose faces were all drooping off of their skulls. `` Is this what I'm going to be looking at for the next 300 years?''
`` No buddy,'' a voice to his left said.
Greg turned and saw the silhouette of a man standing there. It was hard to focus on him; it was as if the man was standing behind a thin screen.
`` Who are you?''
`` Still ca n't see me?''
`` No.''
`` It's all still goopy?''
Greg looked around the courtroom, `` Yeah.''
`` Give it some time. The mind's got to adjust.''
Time slinked by, and slowly, the courtroom continued to melt, and eventually disintegrate. The stand where the jury was seated turned into a gray wall. The table that Greg had been sitting by with the machine whirring under it turned into iron bars stretching from ceiling to floor. His head was spinning, and if it were possible, he would've thrown up. The crowd sitting behind him, watching, turned into another wall.
Eventually, Greg found himself sitting in a jail cell. When his head finally stopped twirling around, Greg turned to find a man with a shaggy beard sitting on a cot.
The man was wearing a grey prison jumpsuit, and he was holding a deck of cards. He had been shuffling them back and forth, but now he stopped, holding half of the deck in one hand and the other half in the other. He outstretched his arms and said a lot more jollier than intended, `` Welcome to VR Prison, AKA, Hell.''
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[ WP ] Lonely and bored , you developed a secret language , that you consistently use to talk to yourself . One day , when you mutter something under your breath , a stranger replies with ease .
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In this place where no one noticed him, Nate felt good to have something that made him unique.
With a little practice, he could speak his new language without much thought at all. It was challenging, but he could manage it.
Ever since his parents had brought him to this lonely dump of a town, no-one his own age really spoke to him beyond'hey', or, on a bad day,'that's my seat'. The kids at his new school left him alone. Hell, they did n't even notice him enough to bully him properly. How depressing was that? But he'd figured out a way to vent about it - without anyone knowing he did.
`` Ohw sdeen meht, yawyna'' he muttered to himself as he settled into his desk at school.
Suddenly, a small, skinny boy turned around in his chair to stare at him. He had bright brown eyes and grinned at Nate, revealing a gap-toothed smile. He had n't been there yesterday - another new boy.
`` Os mi ton eht ylno resol ohw skaeps ekil siht,'' the kid said, a little haltingly.
The two stared at one another for a minute, then burst into loud laughter. The other kids sniggered to themselves, one muttering'losers' to his friend.
`` Mi Neb,'' he told Nate, ignoring the whispers around them.
`` Nice to meet you, Ben,'' Nate said normally, feeling nervous. What if this was just another trick to make him feel stupid?
`` Stel tis rehtegot ta hcnul? Ti skcus ot tis enola,'' Ben rattled off the sentences.
`` Sure'' Nate said. `` But can we stop talking like this for a bit? It's giving me a bit of a headache.''
`` Alright, alright. No Esrever for now,'' Ben agreed, getting out his books as the teacher entered the room and brought the chatter in the class down a few notches.
Nate smiled to himself as he bent over his book, his heart pounding. They'd named it the same thing. Logical, really, of course, but still.
They just had to be friends after this. But he would n't tell Ben that. That would probably be lame.
`` You know we have to be friends after all this, right? It would just be wrong not to,'' Ben whispered to him midway through the lesson, grinning without restraint.
`` Deal,'' Nate whispered back, trying to keep the excitement from his voice but not succeeding completely.
But maybe it did n't matter. Maybe, for once, he did n't have to worry about saying something stupid or not quite cool enough. Maybe Ben was just as lame and weird as he was.
-- -- --
You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/.
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[ WP ] Write a story about the value of a single human life .
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Poems count right?
__________________________
A man who heads a family is worth the lives of many,
but a man who loses himself to vices may lose his worth along the way.
A woman fighting for those who ca n't may be worth plenty,
but a woman battered and beaten by life feels her worth slipping.
A child in the full swing of innocence has yet to find his worth,
but a child destined for tragedy in time may not justify his.
A man and woman may find their worth in each other,
but if their harmony ends along goes their worth.
Can one generalize and label the value of a life,
or must the life be lived before its worth is determined?
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[ WP ] How was your favorite snack/food truly discovered ?
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I was hiking on safari in a river basin not far from the Congo. The jungle was thick, and the natives were many, tall, and savage.
Jackie, my guide, a non-traditional name, to be sure for a native, lead us through the Devil's wilderness. Tall giants sporting crowns of leaves shaded us from the cruel sun. Their pets and children blocked our path, criss-crossing our forward progress with vines and interlocking branches. Jackie hacked and slashed and forged a path for our native bearers to traverse.
We encountered head-hunters our ninth day out. The bearers and servants fled in fear. Many, Jackie surmised, would be captured before night fall. We forged ahead. The head-hunters caught us unawares trying to cross an old missionary's bridge connecting our side of the jungle with the side we coveted.
Spirited away into into the leafy limbo of the Congo, the natives hesitated before putting us to the spear. They had never seen a white man before. They were isolated. A virgin tribe. I astounded them by showing them how to make fire with my zippo and fart noises with my under arms. It took several days and many gifts to gain the chief's confidence. After which, I used the closeness of new found friendship to usurp the man's position. His head was my first ornament in my new hut.
Jackie was a little taken aback by my brutality. I forced the tribes to take up futbol, but insisted they call it soccer. It was at our first soccer meet that I encountered the flaming hot cheeto. It was a delicacy among the tribesmen. I stole their secret and fled during the half-time show, making my way toward civilization. I would be famous. This was the truly the greatest snack ever discovered.
I eventually made it home. Weak from hunger and delirious with jungle fever. Jackie, my man servant, nursed me back to health, then showed a great propensity for business and product design. We sold the snack to Cheetos and used the money to bull doze down the congo to build a soccer stadium. The chief's head was the first soccer ball they used in the opening games. All in all, it was a good summer break.
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[ WP ] Write a choose your own adventure story with commenters making choices Example in comments .
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Damnit. Damnit, damnit, damnit.
I limped through the corridors, trying hard to press down the blood that was trying to gush out to freedom. I nearly slipped and fell, whether from my own exhaustion or slipping on my blood, I do n't know.
Glad I did n't. Just at the end of this particular hallway, a man with a gun stood, loitering against the wall. He looked bored.
Why the hell did I come here again. Oh, right. A `` painting job.'' Well, if I get out today, that's no longer going to be a career choice of mine. Especially when those who hired me shot me in the leg and tried to kill me.
They were behind me, but I did n't know how far. What I did know was that they were a lot less bored than the man in front of me. I could hear the distant sounds of feet, tracking the blood. I looked over and spotted a brick. That might be helpful. I dragged it over to me, trying not to fall again, and trying not to scrape it along the concrete floor.
What to do know?
A. Throw the brick and distract the man.
B. Throw the brick *at* the man and hope to incapacitate him.
C. Make a noise and punch the asshole when he comes running over.
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[ WP ] Post the opening paragraph to a book or story you want to write .
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Sarah Wengrave stared into oblivion where the clouds met the ocean in one grand sweep of the painters brush, feeling as unsteady as the boat beneath her feet. Captain and sailor alike were humbled beneath the might of the cold waters upon which they now traveled, inspiring the same legends of Gods and monsters, but nothing was as cruel and uncaring as the ocean. It was a ravenous pit and she felt as if she were dancing upon the edges of its teeth each time she dared to venture forth.
She forced her mind to the ruins of Ancient Egypt instead, sifting through copper sands for an overlooked trinket, but the spray of salt water forced reality back to the forefront of her thoughts. Here she felt her talents were wasted upon these endless stretches of water where the only land to be found was beneath miles of ocean, but if her theory was right, if the Island truly existed, all of that would soon change.
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