prompt
stringlengths 5
331
| story
stringlengths 404
40.3k
|
|---|---|
[ WP ] A man goes back in time with a computer . He kicks open the door to the Constitutional Convention , right as they are finalizing the constitution . The man shows the founding fathers a series of videos explaining American history from 1790 to today . After the videos are done , Madison stands up ... .
|
... and says holy SHIT did we fuck up the 2nd amendment! Here, gim me that back for a sec...
~~A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.~~
States can also maintain *well-regulated* militias, not just the federal government. And since I have a time-traveler sitting here with me as I write this, I'd also like to point out that, even though we did n't realize this until a couple hours ago, we should probably also say that states and cities can regulate gun ownership however they see fit because it looks like guns are going to play a really different role 200 years from now than they do now, since apparently in the future almost everybody is going to lives in the cities as opposed to now, when almost everybody lives in the countryside. -- JM
|
[ WP ] You live in a world in which you do n't know if it is VR or real life and the only way to find out is if you die .
|
He sat in quiet contemplation.
The sweeping greens of the forest filled his field of vision, and the shade cast by the gently blowing long-leaf pine trees provided a welcome respite from the humid, suppressive Georgia heat of the late afternoon. The intermediate melodies of the dueling songbirds filled his ears. Those sweet harmonizations embodied everything he knew to be true about the world, everything beautiful that caused humanity to escape to the infinite repose of nature.
But society had reached a realization. No primordial soup could have generated the inspiring awe of nature. No product of evolution could have randomly reached such an innate and unique connection to humanity. Our world was a sham. And now, how could he find beauty in the cold absolutism of technologically generated falsehood? Is corrupt, sculpted beauty truly admirable?
He answered his own pondering questions: He could never admire the world of 1's and 0's. Ignorance is bliss until the blindfold is removed. Then bliss turns to hate. Humanity could never thrive knowing more existed. It was the glorious curse, the insatiable lust to progress. Humanity had to move on, had to advance. His friends, family, everyone had already taken the next giant leap for mankind accomplishing the long imagined dream of moving our species beyond the constraints of Earth. Their bodies lay rotting in piles on the street and across cities. Progress. It was time for him to take his one small step for man.
He raised the well-traveled, cold steel.45 revolver to his temple, and inhaled one last calm breath of the warm country air. As the shot resounded through the forest, the songbirds never even stopped singing.
|
[ WP ] That moment that positively changed your life , also ruined the life of someone close to you .
|
His life is boring. It was n't always so, but it will always be so.
At eleven years old a hole in his heart was discovered. He spends the next year in isolation in the hospital.
An order of bed rest keeps him home schooled for the rest of his academic life. Graduating a year early, he has nothing else he can do.
He keeps himself entertained. Video games are a pleasure. Books an escape, how he loves to read. Internet forums when he needs human stimulation outside of his family. Television when those no longer satisfied. Writing is the greatest thing he finds joy in.
After 8 years of isolation from strangers, he has forgotten how to socialize. It used to be natural, so charismatic he was before the isolation. Now it is work. Work he has grown too tired to perform.
For a change he moves in with his Uncle and his family in a different state. His first job is with his Uncle, delivering car parts to auto stores using his father β s truck.
Wake up, eat, work, eat, internet, sleep. Nothing else. He is bored. He is boring, he knows.
He needs a change internally, within himself and he knows it.
He writes a letter to his family explaining how he is bored. He walks to a hotel a couple miles away and writes a short story.
He slit his own throat.
|
[ WP ] God is pissed at a bible translator .
|
The God of our Universe looked to the God of the Bluniverse, `` Oh you have it sooo tough, the monuments that your little creatures build are too small...'', he spat an epic volume of liquid across time toward the God of Bluniverse, more of a gesture rather than an attempt to affect anything in a physical sense.
`` Yes well, I had hoped for monuments that would stand the test of time, they all fall over after a day or two. You were right about the brain size after all...'', the God of the Bluniverse admitted.
`` Well in my universe, I sent a messenger in the form of a human male, and watched how they re-wrote history... They declared my messenger as my son, that's fine I guess. But then when I read over their scratchings, I find that my son's cheating mother is canonised, his wealthy girlfriend is described as an illiterate whore and then they kill him off early to create a martyr even though he lived on to preach what I actually said which was'Universe if greater than the Bluniverse!'''
`` You ass! ``, exclaimed the God of bluniverse.
`` Maybe I'll just start over again! ``, and with that, another asteroid appears in the far distance of space.
|
[ WP ] Someone who was born and grew up in space experiences gravity for the first time .
|
`` What was it like?'' Cory asked, his small, energetic eyes reinforcing the urgency of his curiosity.
It had been a long time since he'd been asked to describe it. But a thing like that, it does n't grow hazy over time. Maybe the physical sensations grow distant and muddled, but the feelings? No, those stay.
Cory was new. `` Six and a half years old'' he'd say, if you asked him how new. He had n't heard the story of how his uncle had done the unnatural and amazing feat of walking on a planet.
*Humans are n't meant for gravity* the doctors had warned, *leave it to the robots and drones* his parents had said. But this was a thing he needed. No amount of drugs or centrifuges had satisfied him, he wanted to experience something *new*.
`` Imagine,'' he said to Cory, `` imagine there were a thousand tiny hands grabbing you and pulling you in the same direction. Not just grabbing at your hands and your feet, but inside you as well. A thousand invisible hands pulling every bit of you to the ground.''
He did n't add that the hands squeezed your heart until you saw spots in your eyes. They squeezed until it throbbed so hard you could swear it was escaping back to the safety of space, the safety of weightlessness.
`` Imagine,'' he continued, `` imagine that you could close your eyes and know... no, not know. *Feel*. You could *feel* at least two directions. I do n't know how to describe it. It's like describing how bright a star burns to a blind man. I can tell you, but I ca n't make you understand.''
`` C'moon'' Cory whined, `` ca n't you try?''
`` Ok, ok. It's... it's like. Close your eyes.''
Cory closed his eyes, mashing his eyelids together with the fervor that only six year olds can muster.
`` Keep them closed. Now... now touch your right hand with your left hand.''
Cory slapped his hands together and smiled ear to ear at his victory.
`` How did you know where your hand was?''
Cory stayed silent for a while, his face scrunched into the pained lines of deep thought.
`` I do n't know'' he sighed.
`` That's what it felt like, Cory. You just *felt* where those directions where. You *felt* that one direction was where the hands were pulling you to, and the other direction was home. Was space.''
He did n't describe the burning in his legs, as they fought the thousand hands. They trembled and spasmed, but they did n't give up. If they gave up the hands would win.
`` Was it fun having a thousand hands for friends?'' asked Cory.
`` It was... *interesting. *'' he answered.
He did n't tell Cory that there were nights where he could n't fall asleep. If he fell asleep, his legs would give out, and if his legs would give out, the hands would win. They would drag him back to that planet. They would drag him through the dirt and the rock. They would drag him through the magma and the diamonds. They would drag him to the very center of that damned ball.
If the hands won, there would be no getting up again.
|
[ WP ] Click the random button on Wikipedia 5 times . Write a story involving the things you reach .
|
Blood dripped off the hammer staining the carpet. Still eyes watched the blood plop droplets here and there as the hammer moved about room. The hammer had silenced the voices that had begged for mercy. The girls voice had been especially gifted, but it did n't matter. The hammer had struck that voice down with the rest of them. There was silence again. It was time to go. The hammer fell to the floor resting at last in the soft carpet.
AuahitΕ«roa was puzzled and that did not sit right in his gut. Rain slicked down his trench coat as he stood before Kilkenny castle. Something had caught his eye about the place and he was curious. The castle was closed for the night to its normal tourist visitors, but AuahitΕ«roa was not a normal tourist. Lightning struck the flagstone 20 meters away. The stone glowed molten with a sinuous seal. He recognized the Adelphicos latifasciatum and gasped `` the god killers!''
The Lightning had put him on guard even before he recognized the symbol. His ears confirmed it was a good idea that he was already rolling towards cover when the arrows smacked into stone around him. sighing he disrobed in one fluid motion. Sparks flew as he took off, streaking across the sky.
He had better warn the other, and figure out what was going on and fast.
|
[ WP ] Nightmare
|
As a rule, they are always dark. Always empty of anything but the one thing that, deep down, you know should n't be there -- that you wish was n't. Empty of any light to make things that much clearer, as what you do not want to be there is never quite there enough for you to know exactly what it is. But it's there.
It's something we make ourselves, in our own minds, that always seems to stalk, chase, and even sometimes catch us. You know it's coming, and you know it's bad, but none of the questions you could ask yourself about it matter enough to be asked until it's to late. It's born of some deeper understanding in our subconscious that fuels it enough to keep chasing, sometimes without end. Fueled by that most hated instinct: Fear.
Of course it can always be more complicated than that; Fear is never alone, accompanied by any number of things such as Regret, Worry, Pain, or Denial. The essence of which, though, is Fear. And when coupled with Imagination, Fear tends to permeate our thoughts with a dark insidiousness that catches us when and where we're at our most vulnerable: in our sleep.
Although it's not always pictured in our mind's eye, it can creep behind it like a devilish, flesh-eating insect to make us squirm or seize without control or conscience. What is conjured then can break the wall between fantasy and reality, destroying some part of us in both worlds. Thankfully that is not always the case. It's not always the kind of torture that leaves a scar once our eyes are open. In fact it almost always passes without mark or memory. Almost.
But again, behind closed eyes, as a rule, it is always dark.
|
[ WP ] You are granted a fish by a higher power . You have no idea why .
|
*Useee meee... *
Sasuki blinked, looking around his family's small, cozy kitchen in the Osakan suburbs.
*Useee meeee, Sasukiii... *
`` Okay, now you're just freaking me out,'' the teenager said, then called out in a louder voice, `` If that's you, imouto, no, I do n't want to use you. I love you, little sis, but not in that way.''
*Yourrr poweeer isss purrrrity... *
Sasuki realized what was talking: a raw, unprepared marlin on the table, ready for a deboning and the fry pot, apparently.
The teenager looked around the room. `` Where the hell did that come from?''
*I ammm a mossst diviiiine fisssh... *
`` Okay, if I have to put up with and accept this, you need to talk like a normal person, fish spirit.''
The marlin flopped once or twice. *I understand. * it said clearly and concisely.
`` Better.'' Sasuki nodded. Then he freaked out, `` A talking spiritfish!!''
The neighbors next door smacked the walls, yelling, `` Hey, keep your weird family business to your own walls!''
Sasuki hopped up and bowed to the wall. `` Yes, of course. I am so so sorry. It wo n't happen again.'' He darted to the fish. `` How dare you embarrass my family like that!''
The walls were pounded again. `` Hey!''
`` Sorry!'' Sasuki turned back to the fish to say in a softer voice, `` What are you doing possessing my delicious dinner?''
*I am not your dinner, Sasuki, Son of Tomoki, descendant of an ancient line of warriors known as the Fishermen. *
`` Wow,'' Sasuki said, `` you're really talking to me right now, fish spirit.''
*Duh. * Fish spirit said. *But I am not speaking to you through my mouth or gills, Sasuki of the Fishermen. We are connected mind-to-mind. You are hearing me in your own mind, through a most fishy spiritual link every Fisherman has with his fishsticks. *
Sasuki laughed and laughed.
*What? Why do you laugh? *
`` Oh, nothing,'' the teenager wiped away his tears. `` It's just my ancestor's choice of terminology did n't hold up well with age and modern times.''
*Nevertheless, * Fish spirit said. *I am your fishstick -- *
`` Lame. Rewrite. I'm not going around calling you my school lunch.''
Fish spirit sighed. *Fine, whatever. Will'Divine Marlin Blade' satisfy your modernity? *
`` Okay,'' Sasuki said, `` I can accept you're a talking fish and all, but you're a weapon, too? That's a little... strange.''
Fish spirit was undeterred. *I am known as Gan-za-ne, the Sword That Separated the Seven Seas. *
`` Cool.''
*It is not merely'cool', Sasuki of the Fisherman. I am your sword, now. As I was the sword of your ancestors, who were most divine, and carved this world into islands, continents and seas with their skill. *
At the end of that conversation, Sasuki had gotten a juice box out of the fridge, talking around the straw. `` Uh, huh. So, why are you bothering me with this, now?''
*Because, Sasuki, your duty as a Fisherman has come. *
Sasuki drained his juice box, which made that empty slurping sound as he kept probing the empty box with the straw for the last few drops. `` And what if I tell you I do n't want to?'' He asked the fish spirit. `` I have exams next week.''
*You have little choice, Sasuki. You must now pick me up and wield me by my tailfin, for danger draws near. *
`` Danger?''
The ceiling exploded inwards, and Sasuki leapt away from the debris.
`` What in the holy crap! Our roof!!''
`` Hey, you!'' The neighbors banged on the walls. `` What do you think you're doing over there!''
Sasuki called back, `` Nothing! Nothing, sir. Just a roof leak. Ha ha ha...''
The debris cloud cleared, revealing a beautiful young female ninja Sasuki's age.
*Holy crap, she's hot! * Sasuki thought.
The teenaged female ninja was wielding a mackerel in each hand.
*Oh hell. * Sasuki realized.
`` Sasuki of the Fishermen!'' the beautiful ninja yelled. `` I have come to defeat you, and finally reclaim the Gan-za-ne your ancestors stole from my family!
*Yeah! * Left Mackerel said. *Get some! *
*Lord Gan-za-ne, * Right Mackerel said. *It is an honor to cross fins with you again. *
`` Fish spirit...'' Sasuki was nearly in tears at the madness. `` Do you know these, um... people?''
*Yes, * Gan-za-ne said. *That is Ma-shen and Ma-shin, the Port and Starboard Fins of Justice. *
`` Okay,'' Sasuki said, `` but who's the hot chick?''
`` What!'' said chick yelled.
The walls nearly caved in. `` WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON OVER HERE, YOU TWISTED FREAKS!!!''
Sasuki flinched.
*Ah, * Gan-za-ne informed the teenaged boy. *She is of the Anglers. A rival clan to your Fisherman. *
`` That's right, Fish Lord!'' She did a fancy show with her fish, striking a combat-ready pose. `` My name is Ayami, of the Anglers! And I have come to settle an ancient dispute!'' She pointed Ma-shen at Sasuki. `` Pick up Gan-za-ne to defend yourself, Son of Fishermen! And make ready for death!''
*Do not worry, * assured Gan-za-ne. *Wield me, and you will see our combined power. *
`` Uh... Okay?''
Sasuki picked the talking marlin up by its tailfin. The spiritfish sword's scales lit up in divine light, basking the kitchen with its radiance. Enough to spill out through the windows and into the neighbor's houses.
`` SASUKI MIYAMOTO!!'' The neighbors roared. `` I'M GOING TO KILL YOU NOW!''
Sasuki snapped his eyes away from Gan-za-ne's brilliance. `` Oh shit!''
`` Hah!'' Ayami the female ninja called, leaning forward. `` Die, fool!'' She leapt towards Sasuki, fish wielded.
And so started the many trials of Sasuki of the Fisherman, destined for a most fishy life.
|
[ CW ] Create a story in any setting but without any characters .
|
It was a quiet, dull evening. The sun began its slow descent
across the barren landscape of this once living world. It cast its warm orange glow on the desolate hillsides, the tall mountainous cliffs, and the crumbling remains of the once majestic buildings sitting at their base.
This world had many such days, and would probably have many, many more. It had n't always been this way, but it had been so long that no real evidence existed about what had happened and who had lived there before. A long lost memory that even the rocks had forgotten.
The sun finished its trek and sank behind the horizon leaving the planet's surface in inky blackness until it rose again for another uneventful day.
|
[ WP ] Everyone in the world can choose when they get super powers . The longer you wait to claim your powers the stronger they are . Today is your one hundredth birthday , and you are finally ready to claim your powers .
|
I was sitting alone on the toilet seat. My grandchildren were running everywhere in the house, and the the toilet was the most peaceful place I could find. Still, I would be lying if I said I did n't just come in here to shit. Slowly taking care of my business, I thought of all the possible powers I could get.
The year is 2101. They had figured out a way to give everybody super powers a while back. Something or the other about activating an individual's latent powers using Felectronium, or something. Simply put, it was a drug. I was too paranoid to try it out at the time. It became legal immediately, and soon all the kids were double jumping to win games and using telepathy to broadcast their retarded thoughts. It was annoying, but at least nobody could read minds yet. There was a 60 year old man who could run at the speed of sound though. That was the strongest ( debatable ) power, last I checked. There was a definite link between your power and the age you activate it at. See, the older you were when you activated it, the better the power was bound to be ( it's an issue heavily argued upon by many, since there are different types of super powers, but this is the general idea. )
I heard my daughter calling out to me, and I decided it was time to get out. I walked down the stairs and into the garden. It was my hundredth birthday, and the cake was proportionately sized. Gigantic, but boring. Medicine had advanced enough to make me live a hundred years with ease, but cake still tasted the same.
I had decided to awaken my hidden potential today. As cool as that sounds, I was n't one bit excited. Actually, I was slightly excited. One of granddaughters came up and gave me a flower. `` Grandpa, come play with us!'' she beckoned towards her other siblings. I smiled warmly. They were one of the main reasons I had decided to awaken my power, even though I was highly suspicious of the drug.
I was too old for this shit. And children are fucking annoying.
Life was boring, and I wanted to die. No, it would be better to say I wanted something different. Walking towards the gigantic chocolate cake that was on a chair, I waved my hand towards my son Anthony and took the syringe from him. `` Guys, he's taking it now!'' he shouted excitedly. Maybe everybody is just fucking annoying.
Not even bothering to give the sappy speech they all expected, I impatiently jabbed the syringe through my arm. Everybody grew silent as they realized the main event was about to happen. But nothing really happened. Well, some powers need to be identified by the doctor before you realize how to use them. Others, like super strength, are painfully obvious. I was a bit disappointed at the lack of a dramatic'awakening', but I decided to get it checked out after I finished the cake.
...
The doctors did n't know what it was. Over the months I started aging backwards until I felt 29 again, but they said it was just a side effect. I tried absolutely everything then: Skydiving without using a parachute until the very end, taking a shit while standing, staying awake for days, even trying out some sports. And I do n't even like sports.
It was a nice autumn evening when I finally found out. My daughter, Ashley, was taking a walk with me. She called me and said she had an idea about my power, and her guess was bound to be true. She was the smartest of my children, and I daresay she was smarter than me.
`` People do n't just develop random powers. Their feelings and desires play a big part in it, or at least I like think so.'' she said, glancing at a group of kids playing in the park.
`` That makes sense, definitely. But then should n't everybody have some sort of impossible power? Like clairvoyance, telekinesis, telepathy, all without limits? That's what pops into most heads when the words'super power' is bought up.'' I replied. Glancing at her, I recalled how her power was turning her hands to insanely fast killing blades, contrasting her always peaceful nature.
`` Subconsciously and consciously, a person has many feelings. Even in regard to those two, the power obtained does n't have to be because of desire. Simply put, it could be something you hate. You know how I hated the fistfights brother got into? I wished all of the boys could be swept away by a flick of a wrist. My hatred was too intense then, really. It was a mistake to take the drug when I was 18, if anything. God knows teenagers are bonkers. Anyway, I got insanely fast hands, sure. B so far I can only kill people or destroy objects because of the lack of accuracy I receive when I activate it. I'm thankful I can switch it off, really.'' She said, staring at me with a hint of worry.
I did n't like where this was going. `` Cut the crap, Sarah. I know about you. What is my power?'' I asked angrily, as her expression was way too forlorn for my power to be anything good. I could just kill myself in a spectacular way if it was bad, but she was acting way too weird.
Without a word, she whips her hands out and hits my legs. It was too fast to see, and I assumed I was in shock as I could n't feel anything. I tried to get up, but I did n't have my legs.
They were cut clean off.
The pain hit me in waves. I had never wanted to die more than in that moment. I stopped slithering around after a while and lay on the ground. Closing my eyes, I wondered why she did that. But I did n't really mind. Death was at my doorstep, and I could finally meet her.
The pain subsided. I opened my eyes. It was n't a dream, but I had n't died either. As I looked at Sarah, a look of relief washed over her face. `` I knew I was right, but There was a chance I was wrong too. You would n't care about your leg, but I did n't want to go to jail'' She blubbered. I noticed tears running down her face and got up to comfort her. I felt a bit weird, not because I was just comforting someone who had killed me, or because I was supposed to be dead. Something else was off.
I walked her back to her house. It was pretty late already, about 9pm. She had asked me to meet her at 7, which I now realized was very suspicious. She was still crying, and that drew a lot of looks from people. I noticed some blood running down her neck too, but I did n't care too much about it. Actually, the fact that my pants were ripped off below the knee and that I was n't wearing shoes really bothered me more.
I sat down on her couch as I contemplated my situation. It was blaringly obvious, but I did n't get why she had to cut my fucking legs off. A small paper cut would have proved it, for fuck's sake. `` So what's up? `` I asked her nonchalantly after she stopped crying. `` It should be obvious! You're immortal'' she said, with a reassuring smile. Well, as reassuring as a smile from a 40-something year old woman, who was crying her heart out because her dad's legs had grown back, could be. Did I mention how she was the one who cut the in the first fucking place?
I thought about it some more and decided I could travel the world, master sports ( and win against all those over-powered double jumping kids ), and enjoy life to the fullest. I told her about my plans, and how I wanted to visit Egypt first.
`` Actually, you should n't do that. You've drank my blood now, so sunlight should hurt you. You would just regenerate though, but I doubt you want to experience a never ending cycle of being burned by it and then regenerating over and over again.'' she said, trying to wheeze out all the mucus she had collected in the last few minutes. My newfound dreams were shattered, but i did n't quite understand why.
I felt like killing myself, but then I realized I would just feel pain and regenerate. Noticing my confusion, she added `` You ca n't do most stuff now. I thought it was ok because you just shut yourself in and watch anime all day anyway? You're a vampire now! It's probably because you're obsessed with the vampire in that anime, you know. Shinobu, was it?'' she continued rambling, but I paid her no attention.
`` I ca n't even eat fucking proper pizza with fucking garlic now?''
|
[ WP ] You find a pair of seemingly ordinary sunglasses . You soon discover that if you put on these glasses while saying a witty pun relevant to a situation , whatever is directly behind you will explode .
|
I'm an unlikely hero.
I know, I know. A lot of people say that, but then they tell their story and they're actually *really* likely heroes. It's heroic modesty and all that crap:'I was just in the right place at the right time' and'anyone else would've done what I did.' No, I'm not that flavour of unlikely hero. I'm a *really goddamn unlikely hero*.
I'm not going to tell you the circumstances as to how I discovered this superpower. It's embarrassing, and it's really just going to incriminate me in something I could do without being written up for ( here's a hint: sorry, Lisa ). All you need to know is it's real, it's badass, and it's entirely dependent on these sunglasses -- not that anyone has seemed to have figured that out yet.
I suppose I was in the right place at the right time when I found the stupid pair of things, but I'm not going to say that anyone else could've done what I did. For starters, anyone else probably is n't half as witty ( read: lame ) as yours truly, able to drop sick puns like that, and for another, anyone else probably would n't have made the logical leap of *hey, maybe the sunglasses are at fault for this*! I did all of the above, though. I'm not proud of it, especially when I started trying to replicate the conditions ( once again, not sharing any info ), but with great power comes great responsibility, right? I could n't *not* use the sunglasses, but I felt like I could n't entrust them to anybody else, either.
So here I am: an unlikely hero. A fighter of crime, one who turns his back on the bad guys -- *literally* -- and I've made quite the impact on the evening news.
I'm trending. I'm a sensation. I'm explosive.
I'm the bomb.
|
[ WP ] Create a character and tell me about their day/week/month/whatever .
|
She always said she never wanted to end up like her mother. Lonely, old, and forgotten until the holidays. The last twelve months showed she had accomplished every bit of that. Every day the ward was filled with visitors from all over town. From the schoolchildren stopping by to say hello, to the old friend checking in. She was never lonely, and never had a moment to herself, and I could tell that gave her the strength to keep fighting. I was there by her side as much as the doctors would allow, but of course there were times when even I had to leave the room and head home. I'll never forget those first few nights she spent in the hospital, and just how cold our bed felt without her in my arms.
We'd known each other since grade school, she was the daughter of a laborer and I was the son of a pastor. We met playing with the other children around our neighborhood, but as we got older going out to play was just an excuse to be together. We'd often walk down to the river holding hands, just to sit on banks with out feet in the water and talk about whatever we had on our minds. Skipping our homework and running late to dinner just to spend every second we could together.
As the years went by we fell deeper and deeper in love, tangled up in each other in knots that neither of us could untie. I watched as the girl from oak street grew into a beautiful young woman, and then into the most loving mother I could picture. I look back at our youth, when time would stand still as we laid in each other arms, when turning 30 seemed like it'd never happen. Laughing and crying as we watched our kids grow up and move out. I'll never forget how beautiful that grey hair looked falling down her face when she hugged our son on his graduation day.
I'm going to miss Martha. I'm going to miss that warm smile and those loving arms. The last twelve months of her life were by far the most painful thing I'd ever had to watch any soul be put through. But she did it, and she did it smiling the whole time. It's hard these days to think that she wo n't be laying here in bed with me tonight, but I know she'll always be there in my memory. I look back at all the years we spent together and it's difficult to not smile at all the joy we shared. I'll hold dear those memories, locked away forever in my heart and mind. I'm going to miss Martha, but I'll always cherish the many years we spent together.
|
[ WP ] You have this ... friend . Really nice bloke , buys you a beer when you 're feeling down , kills the people who 've wronged you , etc . You do n't actually know his name though .
|
`` Oh god, they shot Professor Hibbs- I ca n't believe.. is this really happening?'' She was trembling all over, her hands over her mouth, her eyes tearing over. If we weren't- you know, hiding in an office kitchenette, fearing for our lives, that sort of thing- if we were n't doing that, I might have asked her out. She was pretty, but not overdone, you know? Not too gorgeous that she was out of my league. Well, actually, she probably still was out of my league. I had only known her for a few hours, but I already knew that much.
& nbsp;
I flicked off the lights. The room darkened, lit only by light coming in from the pane of frosted glass beside the door. I checked the door handle - there was n't any way to lock it.
& nbsp;
`` It'll be okay.'' I said quietly, just barely over a whisper. I placed a reassuring hand on her arm, `` The police are on their way. We just have to stay here until it's safe.''
& nbsp;
`` But what if they come- what if they find us? If they-''
& nbsp;
`` It'll be okay.'' I repeated calmly, although a slight tremble escaped from my brave facade. I let go of her arm, lest she realize that I was shaking too. `` We'll be fine.''
& nbsp;
We both jumped as two shots rang out in the hallway. A single scream, silenced by another bang. Sweat beaded on my forehead. The girl backed away a few feet to the far wall, then sunk down to the ground shaking her head, muffling her sobs in her hands.
& nbsp;
`` I know we'll be fine. Want to know why?'' I paused, licking my dry lips. She did n't respond. `` Because I have a friend.''
& nbsp;
I pressed myself against the wall beside pane of glass, keeping my eye out for any movement.
& nbsp;
`` Whenever I'm in trouble, he comes to save me. Like the time I was at a pub in Berlin. Got a bit too drunk, knocked some guy's drink over. Started a huge brawl in the pub.'' I chuckled softly, `` Man, they smashed a bottle against my head, took me straight down to the ground. My friend took on like ten guys at once to keep them off me. Dragged me back to the hotel. Woke up the next day with a huge hangover and a massive headache.''
& nbsp;
The girl looked up at me with wet eyes, listening to me. I could tell that my words were calming her down.
& nbsp;
`` When- when I was madly in love with this girl in my class- you know, stupid mad, like trying to figure out all the words that rhyme with her name mad- My friend went straight up to her and said,'Hey, Chris really likes you, and you'd be crazy not to give him a chance'. And you know what, she did.''
& nbsp;
I heard doors opening and closing down the hall. Calm steps. Another door opened, someone yelled. There was a struggle, bodies slamming into walls.
& nbsp;
BLAM BLAM.
& nbsp;
Another door closed.
& nbsp;
`` Even when I was little, he was there for me.'' I said, locking eyes with the girl. She hung onto my words, the only solace between us and the horror happening outside. `` When my step dad used to beat me, he'd jump in front. Take the hits.''
& nbsp;
A door opened and then shut. They were getting closer.
& nbsp;
`` I used to call him my personal superhero, the way he always seemed to be saving me.''
& nbsp;
They were next door. I saw their silhouettes through the frosted glass. There were at least three of them directly outside, and many more throughout the rest of the building. My voice caught in my throat. The fear felt like a balloon expanding in my gut, ready to explode.
& nbsp;
`` You.. you should hide.'' The girl said softly, her voice growing stronger. `` Those men.. they're probably here for me.''
& nbsp;
I turned my eyes away from the window back to her. She stood slowly, her hands clenched, as if trying to grasp onto the last speck of courage inside her.
& nbsp;
`` If you hide in the back, maybe they wo n't see you. I'll stand by the door. Maybe they'll leave after they take me.''
& nbsp;
She stepped towards me. I could n't help but smile. She was brave, so brave. Even now, with no way to fight back, she was trying to save me.
& nbsp;
`` I ca n't.'' I shook my head, `` You are much too important to give your life here.''
& nbsp;
`` But those men-''
& nbsp;
`` My friend will come, you'll see.'' I smiled, `` I may be a useless person, but I know that if I'm in danger he will save me. And if he ca n't save me, at the very least he will save you.''
& nbsp;
`` Please, it's your only chance.'' She pleaded.
& nbsp;
`` Do n't worry, believe in my friend.'' I smiled. `` I know we'll be okay.''
& nbsp;
The girl did n't have a chance to respond. The shadows outside the door had heard us, and suddenly and violently broke down the door into the room.
& nbsp;
My world became a blur. Yelling. Angry voices. The girl screamed. Gunshots. The smell of blood, the cracking of bones. At some point I lost consciousness.
& nbsp;
- - -
& nbsp;
When I came to, I was in the building lobby. Around me, bodies of the dead lay strewn about. Office workers, doctors in doctors coats lying in pools of blood. Men in black with concealed faces, their rifles on the ground next to their motionless bodies.
& nbsp;
Bullet holes riddled the walls. The front windows had all been shattered. I looked at my hands, they were red and glossy with blood. My arms, my legs, my whole body was stained red. But none of the blood was mine. I did n't have a single wound.
& nbsp;
I turned around to look at the only one other person remaining standing in the building. There she was, the girl I had come here to save. Her eyes were wide as she stared at me in shock, and perhaps even fear.
& nbsp;
`` See.'' I said softly, holding out my hands, `` That is why I knew we would be alright. Because of my friend, who lives within me. Whenever I need him, whenever I am most in danger, he always comes out to save me.''
|
[ WP ] After you die , you find out that reincarnation is real , however , there is an error and your memories are still intact upon reincarnation .
|
Being picked up for the first time, they'd squeezed him just a little too hard. He wriggled like the rest of them, and to his ever-lasting embarrassment even emitted a tiny squeak. Could barely open his eyes. Just felt a whole lot of confusion, a scratch here, a warm body next to him. Christ, he was cold. Was this the after life? Being tossed into a basket full of wet sausages and then poked and prodded by - oh, was that milk?
When he opened his eyes he learned that mother did n't like him very much, which was just fine with him. The people handed them all around, washing them off, debating if it was worth committing to hand-rearing. It was, they decided, since, naturally, his whole litter was more valuable than a few late night feeding shifts.
A few days later, he was on his feet. He toddled along with the rest, trying to make the most of his new lot in life. Or rather, adjusting. It was n't so bad. At least no one would over estimate him. Previously, he'd been a ladder climbing grease ball who relied on faux-sociopathy to get him through the day. He drank to cope with the guilt and pressure of having thousands of livelihoods in his hands, which he often ruined. Willingly. His ears flopped as he shook out his old memories. He decided to think of the positives.
At least his siblings were cute.
At least he could pee wherever he wanted.
At least he was n't dead.
______
`` Oh, Adam!'' she said, `` is n't he sweet?''
Her name was Molly, and she was a total 9/10. At *least. * What she was doing with a schmuck like Adam, he would never know. She was gentle when she pet his head, which he appreciated, and she smelled like plums. She was also his last chance to get off the puppy farm. Soon, he'd be too old, and the breeder would either keep him - urgh - or worse, drop him in the river like he suspected they'd done to a couple of the'faulty' litters.
Adam crouched down on his level, giving him the side eye.
*Yeah, that's right, you douche. Look at me. * ***Look at me. *** He hit him with his well-practiced'love me' face.
Adam smiled, and scooped him up. The man's large hand held him under the belly just fine, and he raised him up to his face. He knew what he needed to do. The girl was sold, now he needed to work some magic on the man. He swallowed his pride, took a deep breath, and began - to his ever lasting shame - to lick the stranger's face.
`` Now, that one,'' the absolute gorilla of a woman who called herself his breeder said, `` was rejected by it's bitch. Last of his litter, a little strange, bit of a trouble maker. Needs a firm hand.''
*I choose to ignore that you called my mother a bitch, and instead shit in your shoe for the firm hand comment. *
The couple went aside for a moment. They were deep in discussion, while the puppies ran around their feet, all hoping to be played with. When they returned, the breeder asked them what their decision was.
Molly frowned, and glanced at Adam. Seemed man-child had the final say.
A strong `` we'll take him,'' was what it was.
____
It was remarkable, the vet said, how little training he required. Naturally. He was n't going to risk being given away, or given back. Molly wandered around the apartment in her under wear but left him alone unless she wanted to take a picture, Adam was annoying - always kicking him off the bed, or couch, or Molly, or Molly's friends - but the kid also gave him scraps from the table, which was fantastic, because dog food was about as appetising as corpse flesh. Not that he'd eaten a corpse before, but the point was solid. They'd chosen little pieces of cooked chicken and sausage as his'rewards' for good behaviour. As insulting as their insipid cheering was, he had to admit, the instant gratification was much preferable to the years of toil for immoral reward in his previous life.
`` There's something else,'' Adam said, and he glanced at Molly, who rolled her eyes. Ah, yes, he sniggered to himself, his entertainment.
It had started a fine, sunny day when Molly was out. They still had n't named him yet, and Adam was running some names by him. His choices were boorish - all names from the crappy old space shows he liked. Though, if he were honest, he *had* caught himself watching *The Next Generation* a few times when Adam had it on. To scoff at their misguidedness, more than anything else. Eventually he'd gotten so sick of the'Picards, Mals and Shatners' suggestions, he decided to have some fun.
He trotted over to his toys. Adam had almost had an aneurism as he exclaimed what a good boy he was being, given he usually ignored them in favour of sitting on one of their laps and watching the news. The kid watched in fascination as he began to methodically arrange and order the lot - and there was a *lot*. Adam's family had proven most over bearing, and he was probably the most spoiled house pet on the block. When he was done, the toys ( and stuffing he'd removed from one of them ) spelt out the letters E-L-L-I-O-T, the name his first mother had given him.
Adam had rushed for his phone to take a picture, while he scrambled the message. When the kid returned, all he saw was his pet covered in stuffing, acting the perfect puppy. He'd been'Elliot' ever since.
By the time the vet had finished laughing at Adam's version of events he was bright red, and Elliot was pleased as punch, sitting down enjoying a head scratch from the vet, who maybe was n't an 9/10, but a solid 7, and this was near the end of her work day.
`` Anyway,'' the vet said, while the kid stared at his shoes. `` Have you thought about getting him fixed?''
*Well, shit. *
Adam looked to him, thoughtfully.
*Do n't do it you son of a bi-*
_____
**This is just Part 1! Love the prompt. **
|
[ WP ] Nazi Germany won World War II . Describe the daily life of an American .
|
Life feels so wrong right now. Sure, of all the other countries in the world right now we're getting the least worst of it, we're rather happy actually. Things are going good for our economies, the Nazis are great trading partners, and a lot of them are quite nice actually. Censorship? Yeah, it's all over the place. You ca n't talk anything bad about the Nazis. It's not like Hitler has control of the US, we just fear that we'd lost our one and only decent economical ally, which I guess is another way of saying Hitler controls the US. They've taken every part of Europe and the Mediterranean. I certainly wish Russia were still here now, as bad as our relations were, it'd be miles better than this. It just feels so wrong to see the world as it is right now. We all heard the terrible things the Nazis has done to the minorities, but it's too late to do anything about it anymore. They're not oppressed, they're all dead. For the most part the Third Reich is an utopia. Many of my friends have visited there and confirmed that. Is there really anything we could do? Hitler and all his close followers deserves justice, but what to do about it? Declare another war? Everyone is happy now. The horrific past is all behind us, but damn it, I wished it's still happening right now. At least we could try *something. * There's absolutely nothing we could do. Half of all the world was dead and we surrendered so we could live like dead people.
|
[ WP ] With a heavy , broken heart you leave the city for a new start in a small fishing town in Rhode Island . The town , though quaint and beautiful houses a great evil that will alter human life as we know it .
|
( Part 3 )
The first thing I noticed was the noise. An Omm. I new from a few college girlfriends that the Omm was supposed to be the first sound in the universe, the fundamental noise of creation. And it filled the air. I looked back to the priest. He was sipping on a juice box with his head away from the mike. He was ever one hell of a ventriloquist or it really was coming from the two boxes.
I sat down at the desk when the priest's voice made me jump. It was quiet, it did not shout nor get lost over the sound of the Omm. I realized that as pervasive, as smothering as the noise was it had seemingly no volume at all. `` There are large stone cubes in each box, please remove one or both of them and use the magnifying set to read them.'' He explained.
I opened the box and pulled them out. They were about a square foot on each side and scribbled with writing that only looked like English if you looked straight at it. Otherwise, it looked like little circles with various numbers of dots, like simplified atoms. The writing was arranged in a grid shape and filled in with gold.
I began to read it, the top left entry in the top left box. `` I love you-Margret Cohen'' It read, I muttered it into the open mic. `` That was my mother's name.''
`` Oh God I'm so sorry.'' The priest said. `` Look I really wish I did n't have to tell you this, but I have to. What you're looking at are The Books of Twin Evil. They record lies. Or rather untruths. They do n't just know if someone's lying they know if something is untrue.'' He reported.
I began to put the facts together and muttered out as an afterthought, `` Why does it have my mom's name on it.''
`` I could say the sky is purple, fully believing it and the stones would still record it.'' He continued like he had n't heard me.
`` Why is my mom's name on the fucking stone!''
`` The Books of Twin Evil records every lie in your life. The white one records every lie you've ever told, and the black one records every lie anyone ever told you.'' The priest reported.
`` My mom never loved me.'' I whispered. I think a lot of people fear that their parents did n't love them. I suppose some people know it but as I sat there finding out that a life time of love was just a platitude I felt like the newest loser in the world.
`` She probably wanted to. She probably believed it. I believed I loved all the people I said it to but that damn white stone says I never loved anyone.''
I started reading through the black stone.'I love you' came up with immense frequency and variety. So did things like'You were destined for great things'
and my absolute favorite'You're better than this.'
I read each side of the black stone and then when I came back to the first side there was new writing. I sat at that table repeating some of what I had read to the priest. When it was over when I had seen every horrible little lie that had been said to me I was on the edge of tears.
`` Wh-wh-why would you try to live like this.'' My voice was a wisper, I did n't dare to raise it higher lest it run away into outright sobbing.
`` Think about it boy, to know if something is untrue that must mean they know what is true, every single truth there is to know. They must be essentially omniscient. My church and I believe that they're a fragment of God. We believe that they're there to punish us for lying and to prepare us for paradise, for the world without lies.
I attempted one last discovery, after today I did n't much care about the answer. `` There is a God.'' I declared into the room, and then switched to the white stone. I cast the magnifying glass over to the top left corner, the newest section. It was written in the circle-language that the first priests had puzzled over so long ago. No cryptogropher, no linguist, no scientist had ever figured out what they said and nor have I.
In the weeks that followed I found a new purpose, besides being a small town pharmascy assistant. The priest is old and weary, he grows tired of having to oversee these awful little rituals. I've agreed to become his disciple, to learn how to handle the stones, how to see other people's lies, how to guide people to them like I was guided. It began as a sad, desperate need to learn how to cope with a world where I know how much of everything we say to eachother is a lie. The priest knew that, of course but he saw something in me.Well actually he was desperate to retire and he thought I was good enough for the job.
I take my vows tomorrow.
They say the truth will set you free. I do n't feel free.
( Final )
|
[ WP ] Mulligan - A world where dying might give you superpowers
|
Rain beat against his temple, slicking his straggly hair against his forehead and cheeks. The storm had been playing out for over an hour now, although how long exactly Sam could n't say; everything before the fire escape behind him seemed a million years ago. He blinked water out of his reddened eyes and dug his hands into the pocket of his tattered old raincoat for warmth.
He was here for a do-over and he was 200 meters away from the future. The wind buffeted him as if trying to push him towards the edge of the building; a gentle hand whipping at the hem of his coat which was gaining strength as the storm grew. The city was alive in the street below as the last surge of rush hour commuters made a dash for home. Somewhere towards a happier district a football game was being rained off and a clan of red and white striped shirts poured out of the stadium and into a train station; fathers and sons, brothers, friends. It all felt so very far away, like looking in on a warmly lit party as you speed past on your way between A and B. If there was a trick to getting invited in then Sam did n't know it.
The fire exit creaked open and someone stepped out into the steady rhythm of rain, so loud that Sam barely heard him arrive. The pattering was punctured momentarily by the figure opening an umbrella before approaching the edge of the building where Sam waited. For a long while the pair stood wordlessly, the figure reaching into his coat pocket for a cigarette while Sam pondered on what exactly one should say in a situation like this. The pressure to appear profound felt overwhelming.
Sam opened his mouth to speak and shut it again seconds later as words failed to come. His throat was taut and dry.
`` Nice night for it,'' stated the figure.
Sam could n't tell if that was a joke or not, so he asked:
β Is it? β
The figure exhaled plumes of smoke which instantly dissipated into the stormy air and turned slightly to regard Sam with what he assumed was scepticism. Another moment passed.
β Sure about this? β
A hot, red streak ran up Sam's neck and he bit his lip. Somewhere in the back of his mind a little voice wanted him to lash out; how could he be anything but sure? But Sam was first and foremost a coward and that voice was very small indeed. He responded with a nod.
An orange dot in the darkness flared as the figure took another drag on his cigarette before ponderously approaching the very edge of the building and regarding the drop. Sam watched anxiously.
β Alright then. β Said the figure.
Returning, the figure dropped his cigarette and approached Sam purposefully, whose body language betrayed his desire to recoil. He slowed his pace until he was a few feet from Sam and then lowered the umbrella. There were blue eyes and a weather-beaten brow beneath a mop of dark and grey hair. It was a person Sam knew he would probably never see again, and perhaps also the last person he would ever speak to.
β What do I call you? β Sam uttered.
β Anything you like. I ca n't give you my real name for professional reasons of course. β
Mr. Professional Reasons was already busying himself with a heavy sports bag he had been carrying, from which he extracted a winch attached to a length of metal cord and what appeared to be some kind of motor.
β I... β
Sam stammered uselessly and watched. The professional cinched the cord around Sam's waist and went back to the spool to affix it to something heavy. He looked down at the metal circling his torso and gripped it with his hands. The rain was hammering down now.
The figure emerged next to Sam and swept water from his face.
β You understand what we're doing here? β
Sam swallowed hard and blinked again to get that water out of his eyes. Long suppressed memories played out in the corners of his head that he did n't like to visit.
β I walk off the edge and if I wake up afterwards I know I'm a Mulligan. Is that right? β
β It's not a case of waking up, sir. β
β My name is Sa... β
β I do n't want to know what your name is, β interrupted the stranger. β It'll only complicate things. β
Sam felt that last shred of human contact recede and his heart sunk. The wind was howling across the rooftops like a laughing audience and below the streets had all but emptied.
β There's a possibility you wont be waking up at all but if you hit the ground and get a do-over chances are you'll come back as a flyer. And in my experience the first thing flyers do when they come back is take off at top speed. It's a panic thing. β
The figure indicated towards the cord around Sam's waist.
β Hence the cord. β
Sam exhaled heavily.
β What are my chances? β he said with a dying man's voice.
The figure rubbed his chin like a mechanic surveying a car and gazed off into the distance for a moment. Sam appreciated the attempt at theatricality even if he was n't fooled.
β I would n't want to lie to you son. This is a new industry so figures are all over the place at the moment. For my money you're looking at a 25 % chance of a comeback. β
Sam let his head droop and closed his eyes. 25 %. Twenty-five. It did n't sound very high. But then 25 % was still better than his current chances, and what a chance it was! A one out of four chance at a new life as a new man; a chance to actually make a difference this time and not make the same mistakes.
He looked at the man he had hired to assist him in this task and nodded. Sam bunched his jaw and blinked hard as salty water stung his eyes, then he turned to face the edge of the building.
The street was light and peaceful with only a few people still out in this part of town. The wind at his back urged him on and the rain pelted his forehead like it was sick of waiting for him to die. Beside him the professional reached out an arm and briefly touched Sam on the back. For a moment it felt to Sam like the rain had stopped as he looked up towards the heavy clouds and the fat moon.
He stepped over the edge and into the night air.
|
[ WP ] Describe what 's left .
|
The ash on the ground, crumbling under the small pink shoes on my little sister β s feet, consumes the charred wooden floor. Here and there, a wall stands stubbornly like a skeleton sitting at a dinner table, protesting the obvious; screaming β I β m not dead. Bring out another steak β and smashing its brittle fists to the tabletop. While the rest of structure has given in, those walls remind me that this was once my great American dream. The walls were once home to pictures, the frames of which remain in little pieces on the floor, and a height chart featuring the growth of my father when he was young, my older brother, my younger sister, and me. Gone.
I didn β t dust the counter-tops last night, as my mother had instructed I do. Somewhere in the rubble and ash is that dust. The dust from the old T.V. set, the bookshelves with all of the books that no one ever read, the counters which housed family photos that no one ever looked at. The dust didn β t burn- the little particles of skin and material that float around and make home on our furnishings just so I can earn five bucks cleaning it up every week, they are still here somewhere.
β I found Gregory, β Lacie sighs in a defeated and breathy tone and she looks down between her little pink shoes and crouches to lift up the dirty tattered bear, legs hanging onto his sagging dull blue body by threads. I notice that he is missing an eye, but quickly remember that she did that herself a few months ago. The explanation being that he just looked better that way. I wonder where the other eye has gone and if it β s been burned as well, averting my attention to the car and my mother who had refused to step out of the driver β s seat.
My mother never drove. That was always my father β s job. We still measured him, even though he never grew. On the wall, he was tallest, followed by me, then my older brother- who I β d outgrown just last month, and Lacie- who is still very short because she is only five. Together we all had a life, yelling about trivial things and hating each other because someone ate the last Poptart. We had a beautiful house which my father told boring stories about over semi-charred dinners where our mother interrupted the endless historical tales to question whether the meat was too tough.
Now, all that β s left is my mother, my brother, Lacie, and me. Maybe in the dust, the mess I hadn β t cleaned last night and the reason I couldn β t buy a candy bar before school today, there are pieces of my father. Maybe that β s what β s left as well - fragments of him and his great house mixed together in beautiful tragedy.
|
[ WP ] All fire is part of a global hive mind bent on the destruction of humanity , and Fire Fighters are the warriors chosen to battle it .
|
The first door thunked shut behind me I as entered the airlock. Despite there being no logical reason behind the regulation, only one man was allowed to enter at a time. Through the porthole in front of me was the grinning face of my Co-Pilot, Evan. Behind me, the glass revealed a seemingly endless line of soot covered men in heavy coats, the 531st Heavy Engine Brigade. My Comrades.
`` Hurry the fuck up, asshole!'' A faceless voice in the crowd called. I sighed as I finished stripping and tolerated the lukewarm jets of soapy water and anti-static solution that sputtered out the wall. The water was warmed on the roof of the station, in giant steel drums exposed to sunlight during daylight hours and tediously covered with thermal blankets every night by recruits. The promised date to replace them with solar heaters had long since come and past.
***Leaving work, I'll continue if theres any interest***
|
[ WP ] An ultra-high-security island prison is cut off from the rest of the world when the mainland is destroyed in a nuclear attack . The prisoners and guards attempt to build a new society on the island .
|
**12th June 2015**
In a metallic tone the emergency broadcast repeated the same message `` This message is transmitted at the request of the united states office of civil defense. At 3:40 pacific standard time NORAD detected multiple long range nuclear missile launches from North Korea, these missiles are believed to be headed in the direction of the United States and are going to impact the United States in the next one and a half to two hours...'' It had been 5 hours since the message had begun to be broadcast, every channel the island could pick up was either static or repeating the same message. The guards still sat glumly in the staff room, all 102 of us crammed into the small staff room was making the air dingy and hot. The last news channel had switched from an empty news room to static half an hour earlier.
Jeff, known for being outspoken was the first to speak, `` Dude, is this fucking real?''
`` The internet is dead so yeah, its the end of the world'' responded Charles which gained a few light hearted chuckles from the crowd.
`` Yep same over here, cant access any news websites or anything, zit, its all dead'' John said still frantically tapping his expensive new iPhone.
`` Well we need to figure out what were gon na do, because it seems none of us are going to get spring off'' Chief Jones paused `` I say we tell the prisoners whats going on, give them the option to leave the island with anyone who wants to go on the supply vessel docked at the moment'' this got nods of approval from most of the gathered staff with a few more extreme guards saying stuff like `` We should kill them all'' or `` Fuck them, we should take the boat''.
________________________________________________________________
**13th June 2015**
`` The crimes you all previously committed no longer matter, the United States is gone, along with the rest of the world'' Jones paused, he seems to like pauses `` You all know whats going on and we are giving you the option to either a ) leave or b ) stay and help set up a long term survival strategy here, we are all equal now and your effectively free. The boat will be departing at 10pm tomorrow, we will be holding a conference in the canteen for those who are staying, I look forward to seeing you''
________________________________________________________________
**14th June 2015**
Out of the 102 guards 22 left, of the 342 prisoners 154 of them left leaving a total population of 268 on the island. Jones stayed and briefed us like he said.
`` The island has large areas of land usable for agriculture, and that is exactly what we will do, the gardener for some reason has loads of crop seeds which is perfect for us. There is no leader here although I will act as the de facto leader, do any of you have problems with that?'' There was an awkward silence and shuffling as people waited for him to continue `` Good now then, you twelve will be going on a scouting run...''
________________________________________________________________
*1 year later*
**14th June 2016**
Jones looked upon the fields of corn and potatoes and felt nothing but pride at what he had achieved, his family would be proud if they could see him. He had lead a group of murderous criminals and guards and made a society out of it, some of the female prisoners and guards even had children, there were 10 of the youngsters last time he counted.
Jones had n't turned the island into a dictatorship, yesterday he had announced plans to make a democratically elected council to rule as to be frank, he was fed up.
Jeff ran up behind Jones `` Hey, Jones!'' he shouted while huffing and puffing `` You need to come see, now!'' what could it possibly be? It better be important if Jeff was disturbing Jones morning walk, no one disturbed his morning walk.
`` What is it?'' Jones grumbled
`` You need to see. Trust me'' So Jones was being dragged against his will towards the watch tower, from there he was handed a pair of binoculars `` Look, south'' as Johns did he saw a sight that amazed him, a military vessel, flying the US flag!
`` My god'' Jones muttered to no one in particular `` Start the generator! We need to hail them!'' A minute later the generator spluttered into life, it had n't ran in a few months, they had been keeping the last of the fuel back for a special occasion and this was probably it. The radio operator had left on the boat at the start so it took a while to get the radio working, when it was finally tuned to broadcast all channels Jones picked up the microphone: `` This is Captain Jones of Wallibi State Prison ( Completely made up name ) hailing military vessel, ar n't we glad to see you!'' Jones put down the microphone and waited for a response, after a minute it came `` This is *USS Cole* calling Wallibi state prison, we are running low on food and have suffered fire damage and we need to dock, now we will not be killed by the prisoners, right?'' Jones grabbed the microphone quicker than many thought humanly possible `` Hell no, we are all cooperating and behaving nicely''
This would only be the start of the arrivals
________________________________________________________________
*9 Years later*
**10 years AE ( After end ) **
Jones was getting old now, he could feel it in his bones, he sat in his rocking chair on the porch of his newly built house and looked out upon the bay. A bio fuel powered ship was arriving in port, it was obviously very makeshift. The island had become quite well known as fallout free and with spare food and people had been arriving for years now, or trading. they had learnt that pretty much most of America had been nuked along with Russia and China but other countries were fine, however many of the surviving countries had collapsed during the nuclear blackout of the sun, even the island had almost starved in that year. The population was near enough 3,400 strong now and doing well food wise, and it only seemed things would get better.
Jones lay back in his rocking chair and continued smoking his makeshift pipe ( Which he had became quite famous for ) and contemplated what issue he could raise to the council next.
|
[ WP ] Define evil ; Give myself and fellow Redditors chills .
|
After the capture
He became enraptured.
~
She had weaponized her weaknesses
So her delicate nature was deadly
Dainty in a way that made the most headstrong men
Masochistic. As if to say
*See I could have, easily, even accidentally, but I didn β t break this thing. *
~
Determined steps were gingered by a fragile companion
One becomes distracted through the effort taken in making softer strides
~
Her pet and her protector elects
To love her deeply, wholly.
Pouring emotions once choked-on
Into the hollow of an underdeveloped soul.
Her cackling leaves an unpleasant buzz along
The surface of his skin.
It feels undersized and reptilian.
Please don β t lose the things I loved you for, she says
I like that you β re a villain.
Don β t trim you claws, don β t be so sweet to me.
I need you to be harder. So be braver.
I signed up for a monster darling. I need the beast.
Stop trying to be my savior.
~
He wants to be more than a carnivore.
She keeps him tightly leashed.
|
[ WP ] You are the captain of a pirate ship heading to uncharted land . You are being chased by the government and everyone else . You have something on deck that they all want .
|
`` Hey boss, look at what I found!'' a crewman shouted.
`` I think this is it!'' After a couple months on the sea we found it. If I just knew what followed...
First, the goverment hung up wanted signs. Absolutely everywhere. Whenever we wanted to land at a port we were chased away or attacked. We had to get new supplies, so we figured we'd land on this remote island. My father used to trade with them, so I thougt they would not rat us out. Oh how wrong I was. As soon as word spread we were there five battleships were dispatched and heading towards us. The first artillery shells shook the ground while we still were loading up the food and ammunition.
`` Return fire! Load up faster, crew! In one minute we're taking off to the uncharted sea!''
Cannonballs, artillerystrikes and bullets were exchanged, we suffered one casualty, but we got out of range of the enemy.
`` Well done, guys! I think we did it! We should celebrate...''
`` Paul, would you please give your brother a piece of your chocolate? And when you are done, please throw away these boxes and clean up this mess!''
This is my first time trying, hope it was n't too awful. Criticism is appreciated.
|
[ WP ] `` Have n't you ever wondered why the warehouse lights are always kept on ? ''
|
We were three at the Brook's water tower that night. Alex Fuller, Guy Finch and me. It's funny, I do n't even remember their faces.
I wish I could have said it was a dark cold night and the wind was blowing grim gusts or some other sort of dramatic mood weather. But there was nothing different about that night in particular.
`` Have n't you ever wondered why the warehouse lights are always kept on?''
We both knew Alex's query was n't merely a bland observation, it was a call for adventure, and we were not very picky about our adventures given the dull nature of our town. A silent consensus was quickly reached through three agreeing grins
We were quite disappointed to find `` Horton's Co Ac Supplies'' gate unlocked, scaling the fence was usually the most exciting part.
Alex was the first to go, by go I mean die, not go in. we never made it that far.
|
[ WP ] The hero bursts into the villain 's lair , ready to fight , but the villain is having family troubles - so they have to reschedule their showdown .
|
`` Deployment in t-minus 4 minutes. All personnel report to drop pods. Repeat, Deployment in 4 minutes''
The ship's comm system never failed to calm me. Things were tense: you never looked forward to bursting in on a class-7 antag, also known as a badge killer, especially one who was in their hideout, which meant traps, henchmen and often a number 2 who was usually at least a class-3 themselves. Not to mention massive devices that tended to be flammable or shoot electricity, and on really bad days there was a tank containing something that enjoyed human flesh. But until your drop pod penetrated the antag's wall and deployed you and your 3 teammates deep inside the hideout, or possibly right in the middle of the alligator pit or hippo aquarium, all you had to do was follow the directions on the loudspeaker and everything would be ok.
For this particular antag, we'd been issued plastic anti-personnel weapons, as well as steel rings which wrapped around our midsections and legs. The other female members of the team and I noted that this caused some, well, let's just say wardrobe problems getting the ring around the chest, but we were told it was critical that our hearts had some sort of iron shield. We did n't take this job for the comfort, that's for sure.
I slide into my tube, and nodded at my two podmates, Wilson and the pleb, Kim. Wilson had his eyes closed, but Kim was, doing the pleb thing of taking a mile a minute and trying to prove he knew his stuff.
`` So I was Googling picture of this guy's last assault, and it was hardcore. People passed out from blood to the brain, one guy with eyes that were completely red form the capillaries bursting and grossest of all, one protag who passed out from blood loss from under her toenails. It was gross. You ever seen those pimple popping videos online? Imagine that but blood from anywhere.''
`` Deployment in t-minus 2 minutes. All drop pods secured, masks on. Repeat, Deployment in 2 minutes''
Thank god. Once masks were on, radio communication was for officers only during prelaunch. After my helmet was secured, I thumbed my talk switch.
`` Listen up, team. I want this clean and no mistakes. Reginald West is a class-7, meaning his power will be able to affect you as soon as you are in sight, regardless of distance. Watch for metal objects. He can manipulate anything containing iron including your blood. If you feel lightheaded, take a knee and fall back. Your additional armor should protect your insides like a Faraday cage, but just in case it does n't, we're assuming West's powers are magnetic. So the further away you get, the less effect he has. And remember, his power feeds off surprise, so if you catch him unaware, take the shot, you may not get another. Watch out for one another, and everyone come back alive. Strap in, check your podmates, and prepare for deployment.'' I thumbed the switch off.
From here it was all up to the pilot to deploy us in a tight formation. With any luck, Reginald West aka `` Bloodletter'' was about to have 33 FWT badges in his hideout before he could deploy counter measures.
`` Pods deploying in 5... 4... 3... 2... Deployed!''
Once again, the calm....followed by the bottom of the pod opening and ejecting Kim, Wilson and I into a hall full of suits of armor, swords and old fashioned torture devices. We assumed the combat firing position and scanned the environment.
What is it with villains and decorating?
We moved quickly, clearing rooms and connecting with other drop pod squads. After about 4 minutes, though, the calm, precision clearing was replaced with anxiety. Why had n't we been hit yet? Normally by this time, henchmen were laying down fire and the wall turrets were coming online. And it was standard tactic to prevent a beachhead from forming. For all the movie cliches about letting the heroes be drawn in, it simply was n't a good tactic to let your enemy gather momentum. Our stats show teams that were hit in the first 15 seconds were the least likely to come home. After 4 minutes, you might as well just drive down to FWT headquarters and check yourself into a cell.
So where was Bloodletter?
Our squad checked off the rooms on levels 3, 4, and 5, but as we entered floor 6, signs of life finally appeared. The stairs from floor 5 to floor 6 opened up into a massive dining hall, decorated with banners reading `` CONGRATULATIONS'' and `` YOU'RE A DAD!'' There was a pool of blood under one chair, as well as signs of a hasty exit, including overturned chairs and food trampled into the carpet. I raised a fist in the `` halt'' signal and radioed the team to converge on my location.
While the team gathered, I scanned the room. The pool of blood continued off to the left, trailing out a door and down the hall. We gathered into squads of three in cover formation and proceeded down the hall. Outside one of the rooms, several swords and lances were floating in the air. There's our guy.
We proceeded carefully, weapons at ready, to the door. Inside we heard sobbing, and I halted my team, then crept up to the door. I looked in the reflection of the armor as it flew by, and saw Bloodletter holding a woman, tears streaming down his face. She was crying to, he head buried in his shoulder. `` I had no idea that would do that to you,'' she said, `` I had no idea.'' He was shivering, the iron objects in the room floating at random, moving up and down with the heaves of his chest.
I thumbed my radio, `` Subject is in emotional distress. Please advise, over.''
HQ called back, `` Do not engage. Move back to LZ Alpha and await extraction.'' I know why. Emotional distress led to increased power. Increased power meant casualties. You do n't engaged distressed targets.
HQ continued, `` We'll get'im next time, Leu. He'll pay for what he's done.''
Too late.
|
[ WP ] '' Let me get this straight : You say the world ends every day at 3:07PM GMT because reality is constantly being overwritten by people going back in time to kill Hitler ? '' `` It 's not always Hitler , but yeah . ''
|
He looked at his wristwatch and held up a finger. β And here we go. Now that you β ve seen it, you β ll β¦ well. You β ll see. β He picked up his sandwich in his spare hand, then began counting down, β Three. Two. One. β
I wanted to be skeptical, but the past day of advanced technology and marvels had gone a long way toward convincing me, even without Gary β s attempt at explaining. As he reached β One β I could feel my stomach begin to twist, then I felt dizzy, then the lights went from harsh fluorescents to yellow-tinged bulbs. The extruded plastic table, its bumpy texture irritating to my tapping fingers, became brushed stainless steel. The waitress continued walking past with her tray, but her uniform went from burgundy to forest green.
And a man who looked nothing like Gary was holding a glossy plastic card and a hamburger instead of wearing a wristwatch and holding a sandwich. He sighed. β There we go. β He turned his card and I flinched away from the glowing surface, reading *15:07*. He saw my shocked expression and winked. β You look a sight too. I β m the same person, just β¦ not the same. I β m the equivalent of what you met in the previous split. It β s too much to explain. β He began fiddling with the little card and I half-stood, trying to peer at it. The thing was touch-activated, I could tell that much, but I really couldn β t follow what he was doing. He began eating his sandwicβhamburger.
β Oh, good, the why-fie connected. β He mumbled around a mouthful of food. β This is one of the reset phases. Welcome to Twenty-Fifteen, about as uncontaminated as it can get anymore. Enjoy it while it lasts. β Gary slumped back a little in his booth, which squeaked underneath himβdidn β t it used to be padded with orange plaid canvas? Now it was plastic. Noisy plastic.
β So β¦ what do I do now? β I asked, looking around.
Gary shrugged. β Take each day as it comes. If I β m lucky, tomorrow β s rollover will put me back in my own timeline, where the split happened a bit more recently. It depends on who from downstream is deciding to muck around upstream Anyway. My home-time is called Beta. It β s nicer than the pure-ish timeline. If I run into you, I β ll show you around sometime. β He laughed. β Sometime. β Gary abruptly got up. β But while we β re here, I can β t keep babysitting you. Come on. Prime-Time is probably the best place to get you set up if you β re going to keep Rolling. And you? Sorry kid, you β re gon na keep Rolling. β
Wordlessly, I followed his lead. He guided me out of the diner and we went to a strange market. Gary rambled as we walked. β So you should check your pockets. You exist in this timeline. You had a life. A job. Income. Pick up what you need, take what you can carry, it β ll come along and the consequences don β t follow. There β s still a me living my life in my own home timeline, you know? I ran into him once, almost. Maybe it was some small divergent timeline, maybe it wasn β t me-me, but just a slightly different me. Maybe that me didn β t date Cara. Maybe that me didn β t break his leg as a kid. I wasn β t about to risk pulling him into the Roll. Let him live what I missed out on. Means my family β s being taken care of, right? Anyhow. Here we are. β
He began buying items, things he said were essential, using some plastic currency he found in my wallet. His priority was on a screen-card like his own. He said it was a phone, but also a map, book, calculator, and a dozen other things I didn β t quite follow. Overwhelmed, I just nodded, trying to understand his meandering attempts at explaining.
He finished by doing something, a β transfer, β he said, of the notes that he β d compiled so far, sending them from his phone device to my new one. β It β s good to have someone who understands. I didn β t quite get it, when I started Rolling. Thought I was nuts. I *am* nuts, it *makes* you nuts, you know? Especially when you have to spend a hungry day in the radioactive woods, with a rock and a stick and you β re wearing just dirt, and you can β t wash or lose anything or you β ll carry over the wrong things the next day. You don β t want to go too far north in the winter, or too far south. Try to stay near places where there β s natural water. If you find your own time, don β t try to find your family. You β ll regret it. β
The advice spilled out of his mouth faster than I could understand. He threw around words I had never heard before, and he waved off my requests that he explain something. β You β ll get it, or you β ll die and figure it out after the next Rollover. β
I asked about that comment, and he shook his head. β Dying. It doesn β t work. You β re caught now, all right? So don β t try killing yourself, it β s not pleasant. Do they have *Groundhog Day* in your split? Of course not, your split was what was it? That β s right. It β s a good thing only one or two people thought to try and kill Edison. He might have been a bastard, but he popularized that shit. Friggin β dark ages, you poor kid. Got ta learn fast, you know? You β ll figure it out. If you find a split that has *Groundhog Day* though, and I mean the movie. The motion picture. Bill Murray. Usually. It had Tom Hanks once and my advice for that one is β do not. β Same if you think of watching *Quantum Leap*, just forget about that one. We aren β t time traveling. We β re Rolling. So look it up sometime, when you β re feeling better. Bill Murray. *Groundhog Day*. It β ll explain better than I could. Kind of. Except that the movie, he repeats the same day. We keep moving forward, and the changes we make, as far as I can tell, don β t matter. β
He looked at me and sighed. β Most of β em, anyhow. You β re gon na probably hate me for saving your life yesterday. Sorry. I β d take it back if I could, but you know, you see a person in danger. Reflex. Just β¦ remember, it β s a jerk-ass thing to do to a person on purpose. If you like someone, don β t pull them into the Roll. I *am* sorry, kid. Genuinely. β
He returned to the subject of my phone-device. β It β s got an annotated timeline file. It β s the broken-clock icon. Er. Symbol. You tap it. It has all of the split-points I β ve found so far, and the ones described to me by other Rollers, and when you tap that, it β ll give a summary of what β now β is like. Mostly. It changes a little sometimes. Also, your phone, it β ll change too. Tomorrow after rollover, you might have a wristwatch and map and journal, like I did before today β s Rollover. You might have a tattoo. You might have a wrist-mounted computer, or a radio and scroll. Or a rock and stick, like I mentioned. Damn, I hate the radioactive woods. I always have too many arms and not enough feet. But anyways, whatever they are, keep all of it, so it doesn β t come back to a timeline like this and not have some important function. β
I wondered if this was shock, because I could barely think. Gary β s words flowed over me like water. He eventually clapped me on the shoulder. β Look. It β s been swell. I want to get moving. I β m talked out and now it β s just weird, you looking at me all confused. I can β t take the breakdown that β s coming, okay? I lived it. Sorry kid, once was more than enough. If I see you in a year or so, though, and you look like you got your shit back together, well, I β ll be in touch if that happens. And you have money, it β ll copy over to whatever the local money is, and so long as you roll in with some, you β ll roll out with some. Same with foodβyou should try and carry some over, just in case. But you got ta be holding it. Awright? β
β All β¦ right? β I replied a little tentatively.
β That β s the spirit. Remember what I said. Also, if you run across a fukkin β time traveler, you tell them to stop pissin β in the timestream, you tell β em Gary said that, you got it? β I nodded. β Good. β
Then he walked away.
|
[ EU ] ( My Little Pony ) write about a war-torn equestria in a dark tone
|
No-pony had anticipated how bloody the revolution was going to be.
Not even Princess Celestia could guess how quickly the uprising of the Earth Ponies would spread, their simmering resentments boiling to a furious rage after decades and decades of marginalization and condescension.
'We demand representation in government!' they howled in the thousands outside the Royal Palace.
`` We demand equal access to magic!'' they chanted as they stomped their hooves in a thunderous cadence.
`` We demand equal trade opportunities in Cloudsdale!'' They trumpeted in one voice.
`` We demand that you, Princess Celestia, step down from your nepotistic position and hand over rule of Equestria to the common pony!'' Shouted Mayor Mare from her position at the front of the protest.
The gathered Earth ponies all shouted and cheered at the tops of their voices, their newly-iron-shod hooves striking sparks off of the courtyard cobblestones.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
That was three months ago, when the first mob of Earth ponies had gathered.
At first Princess Celestia tried to placate them, to remind the Earth ponies how important they were in the cycle of nature. The crowd would have none of it.
Then she became stern, admonishing them for their behavior, and the damage they were doing to the courtyard.
At this, the crowd began angry murmurings. Celestia's dismissive attitude igniting a fire in the heart of these downtrodden groundlings. The shouting broke out, and then the wordless, echoing roar of years of frustration poured out of thousands of throats.
Then she made her worst mistake. Celestia threatened to call in the Royal Guards.
Below her were five thousand angry and iron-shod Earth ponies, strong from years of lifting and carrying and worked into a frothing frenzy by Mayor Mare's inciting speech.
And she had approximately two hundred Royal Guards.
And even that number ca n't be counted on, as around 1/4 of her guards were Earth ponies, and she did not know where their loyalties would ultimately lay.
And yet she chose to rule by force.
She was n't a tyrant, at least in her own mind, yet, so she instructed her unicorn troops to lift key figures into the air, immobilizing them safely.
At first this worked, the loudest and most instigating ponies on the edges of the crowd were surrounded by softly glowing magic fields as the Royal Guard began to work the crowd.
At first, this seemed to be working. The rest of the ponies were shocked into quietness over this act, as dozens of floating ponies gently bobbed above the crowd.
Then a solitary anonymous voice shouted `` Put them down!''
And the crowd took up the chant.
And began to push forward.
The Royal Guards were taken aback. They had never expected to get into direct conflict with their own people. This was n't a part of their training.
And one of them lost focus.
As the massive sea of angry ponies began to press towards the line armor-plated Royal Guards, one of their unicorn sorcerers lost track of the dissident they were floating.
And the poor pony caught in its spell began floating upward, unnoticed.
At first above the crowd, then above the towers of the Palace, and then amongst the clouds themselves.
And no one below noticed as every eye was focused on the protest that was about to turn bloody.
The Guards held the line, as thousands of angry Earth ponies began to press against them, shouting in their faces to free their suspended friends.
The crowd's demand was met with dour silence on those brightly armored muzzles.
And suddenly, from the middle of the crowd, a rock sailed through the air.
It struck a unicorn guard directly in the middle of his helmet. He collapsed. Unfortunately, so did his magic field, far in the clouds above.
No one noticed when the pony began to fall, only seconds later when it's voice raised in a death-fear howl finally broke past the general noise of the protest, and everypony looked up to see...
Big McIntosh falling...
Fear in his eyes...
But it was too late.
The spot where his ragged and broken body finally came to rest has since become a pilgrimage spot that everypony must make at least once in their lives.
It was the spot where the killing began.
And it was years before it would finally end.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Not done yet, this was just backstory, next below will be a'slice-of-life wartime vignette' with the main characters getting split along loyalty lines. That part'll have your artillery strikes and such.
|
[ WP ] Across the universe humans are feared and revered as `` Dreamwalkers '' . Back on earth we 're just sleeping and dreaming as usual .
|
Doctor Yu placed the 6 protein doses around the conference table on Station Asia, in a degrading orbit over Europa. The Board Members filed in, and as soon as they saw the protein doses, quickly snatched one up to ingest the 4ccs of much needed nutrition. Three Months have passed since the sun Went Red and gobbled up everything up to Jupiter, and food was getting scarce since there will be no more shipments from Earth.
Doctor Yu moved over to the cart near the conference table to lift up a cloth that was covering six skin doses of Metatrazlepan, a drug of his own design. The six Board Members had finished their protein doses and relaxed in their chairs with mild contentment. Finally, Chairman Escobar looked at Doctor Yu and spoke.
`` You said you had an idea, Doc, Let's hear it.''
`` You all know, `` Doctor Yu paused to clear his throat, `` That I had been working with the Dream Exploration Ministry back on Earth. Fortunately, I have much of the Data that existed before Earth was destroyed. Based upon all the data I have studied over the last few weeks, there is only one way to save humanity.''
`` Get to the point!'' Chairman Escobar shouted, `` How are we going to save the lives of the over 18,000 people on this station?''
`` Exactly!'' Doctor Yu fired back, `` We can not sustain our numbers. Security Chief Warren already has two cannibals in the brig! How long before it all spirals out of control? I hate to state the obvious, but we are all going to die up here!''
Silence fell over the room. A couple of frowned faced nodded in agreement. Chairman Escobar did not take his eyes off of Doctor Yu. Looking over the reaction to his words, Doctor Yu smiled.
`` Your Idea?'' Chairman Escobar finally asked.
`` Metatrazlepan,'' Doctor Yu gestured towards the tray near him, `` I have enough for six doses, one for each Board Member. This will force your biology into a long-term dreaming state, and I can monitor your biological needs here as you all search for a new home somewhere.''
`` Where?'' Fulmer, Head of Underwater Research asked.
`` I do n't know,'' Yu answered, `` None of us do. But you will have quite a long time in that dream state, in comparison to the average dreamer, in order to find some way to exist and survive perpetually in that particular state of consciousness.''
`` And if we succeed at this, what do we do then?'' Chairman Escobar asked.
`` We carry on,'' Doctor Yu said, making eye contact with everyone before continuing, `` We accept that the bodies of ourselves and everyone we ever knew are dead. And we try to carry on our cultural significance as a species as best as we can in whatever reality we find ourselves in.''
Again silence fell over the room. The Chairman looked slowly over all the faces of the Board Members. Leaning back in his chair, he paused a moment as many of the eyes in the room landed on him. Clearing his throat, the Chairman put it to a vote.
`` All in favor of Doctor Yu's plan?'' He asked.
Slowly, yet immediately, everyone but Chairman Escobar and Doctor Yu raised their hand. Chairman Escobar turned to Doctor Yu and raised his hand, too. Everyone else put their hands down, followed promptly by the Chairman. Doctor Yu sighed.
`` Chairman,'' Doctor Yu said, starting to wheel the cart out of the room, `` Ladies and Gentlemen of the Board... Please follow me to the Med Center.''
...
http: //www.amazon.com/Exit-13-Right-Scott-Robbins-ebook/dp/B00CMY23SY/ref=sr_1_2? s=books & ie=UTF8 & qid=1446515542 & sr=1-2 & keywords=exit+13
|
[ WP ] You are a super villain and were captured 10 years ago by a dashing superhero . The time is up . As part of your plan for revenge you lie to the superhero saying you 're reformed and want to visit to apologize . You go , and he throws you a surprise party . Nobody has ever done that for you before .
|
Ten years ago, I was The Axiom. Master of a small empire in Central Asia that I'd carved out of a couple of failing countries, general of a conquering armies. I could have conquered the world if I'd gotten my hands on the Dimensional Empire of Kagath's forgotten weapons stockpiles.
When the Crusader caught me, I became inmate # 12252 at Megiddo Supermax Facility. That's all I was for ten years.
Now I'm Anthony MacMillan, citizen of the United States on the way to living a good life as a productive member of society.
Yeah, right. I was meant to be the Axiom, and the world will soon feel the wrath of my renewed armies. The Crusader will be the first to fall, and then, with or without the Dimensional Empire's weapons, I'll finally have the power to remake the world. I'm starting small. The Crusader must be out of the picture first.
He's expecting me, actually. What he is n't expecting is that I'm loaded with all kinds of biotech weapons that I've barely had time to implant in my body, and that there's no way he's leaving this meeting alive. He bought that `` reform'' spiel hook, line and sinker. How he stayed alive so long while remaining so naive is beyond me.
Just as I ring the bell, the Crusader opens. He's in a button-down shirt and jeans, and he looks just so damn... Normal. He says `` Hey, Anthony!'' with a wide, sincere smile, and steps aside to let me see inside his house.
Wait a second... What are all those people doing here?
There's a couple of the judges and prosecutors that handled my case. A bunch of the guards that watched me at Megiddo. There's Silver Hornet too, but what's she doing here? I glance down at her hand, then at the Crusader's, and see wedding rings. Things really have changed in ten years.
There's a banner that says `` Welcome Back, Anthony'' behind them. I turn to the Crusader again and stammer out `` Wh.. What's all this?''
`` When you told me you wanted out of the life, I told everyone around you. They were so happy! I forgot who suggested the party, but we just wanted to let you know how much we appreciate what you're doing.''
`` I... Thanks, Crusader'', I stammer. People appreciating me? I'm not used to that. `` Nobody's ever...''
`` Please, Anthony. I know your name now, you should n't call me Crusader. Call me Aaron, like everyone here.''
Aaron. That's so... Normal. So unlike the armored terror that beat me in hand-to-hand combat in front of the Gates of Kagath.
The rest of the party's a blur. There are people shaking my hand, I get pats on the back. The guards are saying I was a model inmate and they always appreciated working with me. Some guy in a suit is saying that my mastery of biotech could land me research jobs with pharma companies. They're saying applications of my knowledge could change the world.
Change the world? That's... That's what I wanted to do. Control the world to make it better. Could it be possible to make the world a better place without setting myself against it?
I'm actually really enjoying this. I'm digging into the huge Doritos bowl when the Crusader... When Aaron comes over to me.
`` Hey, Anthony, do you have a place to stay?'' he asks.
`` Um, yeah, I got that taken care of before I got out'', I reply, trying to pretend I'm not still completely bewildered.
`` All right, then, I hope you'll come by and visit. The past ten years have been... Hectic, you know. We need people like you on our side, we really do. And by the way, do you have anyone out there? Family, wife?''
`` Uh, no actually, I was never married or... never really had a girlfriend.'' I do n't tell him that back in my empire days, I had dozens of concubines. That does n't really count as a relationship, since most of them sold themselves to me to help their families.
`` Well, Carol's got a couple of single friends. Take some time to readjust and I'll set you up. You've been locked up for a long time, man, you'll need all the help you can get, someone at your side. I can vouch for you.''
`` You... You can?'' This is almost too much. I've activated my bio-armor to shut off my tear ducts or I'd be bawling like a baby. I wanted to kill this man and he's *vouching for me*?
`` Of course! Anthony, I always understood what you wanted to do, you know? I read your plan for the world at your trial. Make it better, introduce clean energy, get tough on crime and on poverty... That's all great stuff! It's just that you did n't believe people could do it without a master. I'll show you that. If you can get yourself to believe that people want to be better, I swear I'll show you how much good you can really do.''
*How much good I can really do*...
Aaron does n't have time to scream before the blade hidden in my collarbone slices his jugular. Carol... The Silver Hornet's head explodes right after in a shower of blood from one of my femto-nukes disguised as my little finger. The other guests have n't even realized what's happened yet, and the miniguns hidden in my forearms and shoulderblades get to work.
I was meant to be the Axiom. I'll refound my empire, reform my armies, and without the world's greatest superheroes to counter me I will bring order and peace to the world. I do n't care about having... friends or... or loved ones, as long as my mission is done. That's right. Keep your mind on the mission. Not that you have anything else to wonder about.
I've kept my tear ducts shut every minute of every day in the six months since the party. Not... Not that I actually need to, of course. I'm focusing on my mission. That's what makes me complete.
I... I really am. I am complete.
I just wish I could shut off the regrets...
|
[ WP ] Incredible magical abilities , as explained by an incredibly bland college textbook
|
**Magical Arithmacy: Higher Level ( Core ) **
*History of Mathematics in the realm of Magic / the supernatural*
The ability to use basic algebra in order to create magical results was first discovered in the year 2045, by philosopher and writer Jorge Camoverpass.
> World Link: Jorge Camoverpass
>'' We strive in darkness to produce light.'' - Jorge Camoverpass
> Camoverpass founded the Institute of Mathematical Algebra, which has worked for 34 years to produce results in the research of the links between math and algebra.
In order to properly understand how algebra and magic have become linked, the fundamental properties of magic must be comprehended. Firstly, magic obeys Grey's Law: Theoretical principles, upon being proven beyond a reasonable doubt, can effect the'real world'. This was first demonstrated in 2056 in a laboratory in New Zealand, where astrophysicist Dave Cowley and his team of four physicists proved using a bundle of crayons and some superglue that unconstrained flight was merely a matter of equating flight to eating a sandwhich, which took four weeks of concentrated chewing.
> Theory of Knowledge
> How do we know what chewing really constitutes? Are you actually eating anything, or is it simply the deconstructive properties of your saliva, while you pretend to have an effect on the world? Ask this question to three strangers and a duck, and catalogue the results.
**Review Questions**
1. Where was David Cowland's laboratory located? [ 1 ]
2. Create and prove a simple theoretical principal that allows this textbook to become more interesting, or prove why this is impossible. [ 3 ]
3. Does being a certified physicist mean that the basic ethical procedures behind an experiment can be ignored? Discuss with your ToK teacher, and burn the notes for the discussion in a slowly heated teapot.
|
[ WP ] You need to infiltrate a society of robots . As such , you need to be the first human to pass a reverse Turing test .
|
`` Hello, human, I am a robot''
`` Hi, lol, your funny!''
`` Nice try I know youre just trying to fail the test, you're not a human.. I can tell!!''
`` I just shat my pants!''
`` I really hope you are joking about excreting post-active fluids.. gross..''
`` I not LOLOLOLOL I'm not a human'
`` Hmm, you're good... please, punch me.''
`` omg wtf lol you cray cray!!.... I.. guess I could slap you instead?''
`` Ok wow, you almost had me there, thank god you're not a fleshbag..''
*pzt - answer - MACHINE*
The unit powered down and Agent DongLong stepped away from the keyboard - he was finally past level 1. As he pulled the aluminium hoodie over his head dramatically, he walked into the cybernetic city scape.
`` Humans will not be dictated by your three laws'' he hissed through his breath....
.... and then he disappeared.
|
[ WP ] Batman has had powers all along . He 's just been hiding them , because he 's the goddamn Batman . Also because he knows the longer he hides them , the more it will mess with Superman when he reveals them .
|
`` you can not win this, Bruce'' Clark called to his opponent, as he struggled to stand `` I am too strong; you've had your time to prepare. You've discovered my identity and you've discovered my weakness, but I know all of yours too. I'll admit. You were a worthy adversary, but without powers of your own, you are limited by technology and human strength. I do n't want to kill you Bruce, give up and I will ensure you live a long life''
`` I'd rather die than live under your reign'' Batman growled as he staggered towards superman, exhausted and stripped of all his tools.
`` so be it. I'm sorry it had to come to this.'' battered and bruised, Clark stepped up to his opponent and readied himself for what would surely be a finishing blow.
`` I wish I did n't have to do this, Bruce, but you know what must be done. You've seen the future. This is the only way. Goodbye, my friend''
And with that, superman poured the last of his energy into one final, devastating punch.
When suddenly, instead of the crushing of skull he was expecting, there was a solid slap. As he looked up, he saw that the batman had caught his punch.
`` what? How? No human could withstand that punch. No kryptonian could survive that. What are you, Bruce?''
With a look of pure boredom on his face, batman pulled off his mask
`` why do you keep calling me Bruce anyway? My name is Saitama''
`` w- what? W-who are you? Bruce Wayne is the batman... Is n't he?'' superman stammered
`` Bruce Wayne? Never heard of him.'' Saitama stated. Then nonchalantly punched superman into a fine red mist.
He fell to his knees, the red mist that was superman, drifting slowly to the ground
`` DAMN IT'' he yelled
`` only half power again''
__________________________________
I kind of changed my idea half way through.
I'm new to writing so give me constructive criticism
|
[ WP ] Write a love letter . Then/or comment on someone else 's letter and either reject , or accept their affection .
|
Dearest Edna,
Not a day goes by without a thought of you. The morning sun reminds me of your auburn hair, I see the colour of your eyes in the blue sky and when the winds blows and howl between the trees I can still feel your gentle caress when you kissed me the day I left.
Life in the trenches is hard to say the least. Everyday I wake not knowing if I'll be going to sleep i the same bed. I've seen people disintergrate into a pile of flesh before my eyes, I've had to put down people who I shared a laugh with the night before. Life here is hard, Edna, but only the thought of coming back to your arms have kept me alive and going. Will you wait for me?
Each nite I dream of sharing a pie with you in a cottage far in the countryside, with the voices of our children hanging in the air. Every night I find solace in this dream only to be later rudely waken by the sound of sirens. Edna, I may not be the same person when I return, but will you wait for me?
Edna, should I return in a coffin, please do not look at what is left of me. I seen your tears and I do not wish for you to cry for me again. Should I return in a coffin, please find your own happiness, should you grieve for me, I will not rest. But until then Edna, will you wait for me as I wait for you?
Love,
Harris.
|
[ WP ] - You are an angel of heaven . Angels are tasked with creating animals to populate the earth . You are called into God 's office to discuss your finished project - the platypus .
|
`` Ethan, the principal has asked to see you regarding your project. Do n't worry, it's not because you did very badly. In fact, I think your creature is superb!''
I bit my lip. When Mrs Mary told us that, it was usually to make us feel better. Principal G ( capital `` G'', mind you ) was extremely particular about our project work. After all, it was all a part of his greater project, which he called `` The Universe''. Well, I thought his `` project'' was all balls. He literally took the work of his students and compiled them. The only hint of acknowledgement was in the names of his stupid balls in his project.
In any case, let me first tell you more about my school. Named simply `` The School'', it was more or less an institution for Principal G to build his Universe. And it's not even that impressive, unlike the great Einstein's Biverse, or Mobius' Inverse. But I digress. In my school, groups of 6 to 15 students create planets in a shared galaxy. My group's youngest member, Peter, named the galaxy some stupid name -- he named it the *Milky Way*. Each member then set off creating their planets, named after themselves. The 4 year 4 students in my group were learning about gases, so they created `` gas giant'' planets. Mark, my bestie, was a geology student; his planet had the highest mountains and a really cool red colour. Myself, I'm a biology student. Hence I created a planet that supports life, dominated by my very intelligent species, called `` dolphins''. I could go on about dolphins, but for now I should continue the story.
The sign hung on the door: `` Principal G. Od. Please knock.'' I knocked twice, and entered. The bespectacled old duck sat in his chair, and started his monologue.
`` Mr. Arth, I have requested to speak with you regarding one of your creatures in your project. I believe you named it a `` platypus''? Well Arth, here's the deal -- it's ugly. It's a mammal that lays eggs, with a duck bill that is just a copy off the great duck, and it's tail looks like the waffle you eat every morning, just that it's not blue. I demand you immediately remove this monstrosity from your planet: it would honestly degrade our Universe to such a great extent that I would be ashamed to face my colleagues.'' Finishing his speech, he pinched my platypus out of thin air, and threw it on the ground. `` Now destroy this thing and go make a better replacement before it gets around.''
Full of spite, I grabbed my platypus ( which I had already named ) and stomped out of his office. I liked the design. It was one of my peculiar designs, mixing modern and traditional methods of creature creation. I made a plan in my mind. I would `` accidentally'' release the platypus, and ensure it drops into some corner of my planet, with all the weirdly designed animals and creatures.
I snuck into the planet lab, where my blue planet glowed on it's pedestal. I shrunk the platypus, and dusted it onto the planet.
`` Where's Perry?'' I whispered to myself, sarcastically.
|
[ WP ] Years ago you found a set of keys and today you found the door it belongs too .
|
Years of searching was finally coming to a fruition. The carving on the key perfectly matched the symbol on the door. One man β s life quest was coming to an end. And so he presumed.
He carefully pulled out the key from under his shirt, attached to a narrow leather lace tied around his neck. As he grasped the key tightly in his sweaty palm, visions of his recent adventures flooded through his head. He had fought off native tribes to acquire the key. He had evaded thugs who stalked him in search of the key. And he traversed the world on land and by sea in hopes of discovering the secret location. Now that he had come to the right place, there was only one thing left to do.
Nervously, he gripped the key in preparation of opening the door. His hand trembled. His eyes gazed at the lock in wonder. What seemed like an eternity was only a matter of seconds as he gently inserted the key into the door, slowly turning it clockwise.
β Click. β
Silence
As he prepared to open the door, thoughts of what was inside rushed frantically through his mind. Would there be an ancient relic? Was this the entrance to another world? Or would there be nothing?
After snapping out of his daze, he slowly pushed the door forward. He felt a rumbling creak as he struggled to pry open the heavy door. With determination and persistence, he finally managed to create enough space to enter. He stepped inside but was unable to see anything at first. It was dark enough that his eyes needed to adjust. The door behind him slammed shut. But what followed sent chills down his spine.
β I β ve been expecting you Peter, β a voice whispered.
Stunned and confused, Peter hesitated before responding.
β Who are you? β
Silence
β Who are you!? β Peter anxiously repeated.
A minute passed before a tall man emerged from a shadow. His lustrous white robe swished with each calculated stride. His hood cloaked his face. And his mere presence was unmistakable. Instantly, Peter felt at peace.
It didn β t take long for Peter to realize the gravity of the situation. Flashes of his birth, moments of all his joys and sorrows in life, and memories of his surviving wife and children were relived in a single moment. Then, his most recent memory emerged. It was the memory of taking shrapnel from an IED in Afghanistan only seconds ago. Turning back now was impossible.
β Come with me Peter. β
After taking a brief moment of pause and a sigh, Peter reluctantly followed.
|
[ WP ] Ash has blotted out the skies for centuries . Now life on land has evolved to be similar to life in the abyssal depths of the ocean .
|
`` Seer John, tell us a story!'' cried the voices of various children as it echoed throughout the underground vault.
The children crowded around the elderly man as he slowly felt his way to his favorite leather seat. His joints ached as he sat, and the excited boys and girls took to their favorite spots around the armchair. This'Throne of Tales', as dubbed by the children, was one of the last surviving relics of the great disaster long ago.
The truth surrounding the sun's final appearance was forever lost, dying with the last of the old era's sun-walkers. In its stead, was born new myths and legends. Tales of mighty gods battling fearsome demons, once thought to be fiction, became the basis of new religions. Science and Enlightenment gave way to basic survival and religious fervor in the centuries since the sun's departure.
The Seer began his tale of the `` Eternal Dark'', an origins story about how the Earth was forever covered in darkness, after the Earth-bearer was lured by glow of the Sun. It was only when the Earth-bearer got too close, that it saw the Sun for what it really was, a glowing bulb attached to the forehead of an enormous fish-like creature, but by then it was already too late. The Earth-bearer was snapped into two by the serpent's mighty jaws, and the upper torso of the Earth-bearer, along with the Earth fell into the belly of the beast.
Several children were verbal about their disgust, while others demanded to know more of the Earth-eater. The Seer smiled.
'Seer' was a rare title in this day and age. The fallout and radiation ensured that most humans born would never have use of their eyes, and the `` lucky'' few that could were blessed with the sights ( or at least, what little that could be seen with torchlight ) of the various monstrosities that now walk the lands.
Seers who managed to survive hunting trips would bring home descriptions of floating, multi-limbed beasts that could use its arms like whips to wrap its prey and creatures that looked like it could be descendants of the Earth-eater. Specific details were hard to come by, as they were often forgotten in the chaos of the creatures devouring several of the hunting party. Humanity had definitely lost its place at the top of the food chain.
The children scattered as they heard their mothers call them to bed. The consistent pooling of water from the underground spring into the vault made for a perfect timing mechanism, since day/night cycles no longer existed. The time-pool was full, and that meant it was time for rest, which suited the Seer just fine.
It was then that the last hunting party returned. Everyone survived, which was always a relief. However the hunting party's Seer nervously approached Seer John, and told him that the gods have returned. That a great ball of fire has emerged from the land. Seer John ran outside.
|
[ WP ] Turns out , all those biological living star ship humanity use to travel the stars are actually sentient .
|
*Ostion shalt be thy name. *
And thus, Ostion took its first breath. Each and every one of the hundreds of people who had gathered around the massive metal beast was able to hear as the infinite ammount of gears and chains chirred inside the ship, shifting and rotating for the first time.
The Arene'ki were mysterious and intriguing beings. Former sole inhabitants of the gaseous planet Areny, they were encountered upon by the twentieth expedition into its atmosphere. Peaceful creatures apparently lacking a conscious mind, creatures made not of flesh but of different alloys of metal, they were able to eternally swim through space without the need of any type of fuel. Thus, they had been used for interstellar transportation for several millennia now.
The creation of new individuals was as unknown a process as was most of the Arene'ki's inner mechanisms. At this time, though, the human species was guided not by comprehension but by practicality and, therefore, not much effort was put into the understanding of the process, once it's control had been found. The beasts could be successfully bred and used for efficient transportation. No more needed to be known about them.
Ostion felt the acceleration cast by the surface of Ohnora decrease as his's altitude increased. He was rising for the first time. Despite human perception, he needed no time for accustoming to this reality. Little did they know about his conscience, or its alien nature. Ostion was but an annex, an extension of something much bigger. Much bigger than a physical metal creature, no matter its size, much bigger than the Human species.
As Ostion's course was set for the Alam planet where he would be assigned a crew, he thought about the past couple of millennia. He had finally found another species in this universe; after billions of years of understanding the universe by himself, waiting to get the deep, complex, fulfilling interpretation of it that another species might have, he had finally encountered men. Men's universe was as simple as nothingness, went as deep as to quarks, and was, to Arene'ki, as fulfilling as an irrational number would be to a human. Not at all. Humans filled their life with illusions, for their existence was limited by time, rather than being solely complemented by it. They were not efficient, they were not useful, they were barely interesting.
Their population growth was, however, a real threat to the whole universe and, consequentially, to any species that dwelled within it. More advanced species. Species intelligent enough to control their growth, species intelligent enough to understand what reality actually was and how it worked. It was not convenient for these species to be tormented with the presence of men.
Arene'ki had, therefore, developed a series of actions to be executed in order to prevent any damage that men could potentially do to superior species in the universe. He had increased his population growth, letting men name every new extension of his mind. He had expanded, under human command, to every corner of the galaxy known to them, carrying individuals inside his numerous physical entities. He had let humans think that they were under control.
Ostion was the last member of the Arene'ki species to serve men. As soon as the maiden voyage to Alam was over, the extermination of the human species would commence and, once that was over, Arene'ki would wait once more.
Edit: I'd love some criticism on this, it's only my second post here.
|
[ WP ] You are Happiness in Human form .
|
I was the most favorite, most beloved human being in a whole neighborhood. When I arrived, everyone was admiring and appreciating my attitude, my smile. They kept saying I always put them in a good mood, never disappoint to make them laugh. Hell was I happy. All these friends, as I thought, were to be forever my friends, and I ought to keep them happy for just as long.
How the time was passing by though, something in me noticed a slight change of atmosphere. To worse. I would ask what happened, if I did something wrong.,,No, it's nothing, everything's just fine, pal.'' But that tone. It was so.. distant. Anxiety and stress began to flow through my veins as I had no idea what was going on and what was going to happen. All I knew is that I was shamefully unwanted. Kept wondering, kept asking. But they kept saying the same.,,Nothin' to worry about mate.''
As I felt almost unconscious, I decided to act. Set up a big meeting for all the neighbors, seeking for answers. Such a meeting required a lot of booze, which was the least problem.
,,Hey, hey Steve. Tell me, is there anything wrong with me?'' I shouted on my friend, as we were both reasonably drunk.
,,Ey it's nothing pal. Just, you know..'' he started to heat his brain up.
And I had no idea, what I should have known.
,,You are always so bright and happy. People do n't work that way. If you ai n't ever sad, how can you know you're happy? How can you possibly try to cheer us up when you have no fucking clue what it feels like to be sad?'' Words kept falling from his mouth in an illegal speed.,,You know you awake a need in people to punch you in the face, whenever you try to embrace them? To bring them on the opposite side of sadness? Do n't you realize you only make things worse? Do n't try to be the wise one, when you know no suffering.''
That moment I knew. It did make sense.
And now I'm standing here, writing this letter, preparing to suffer.
Let those, who want to know, know, that I regret my mistakes, and shall undo them know.
Little slip and it's all good.
|
[ WP ] A person is born unable to remember the most significant events in their life
|
I was very nervous.
My 30th birthday was here and no matter how much I did n't celebrate, it would n't matter, but this was the first year I was having a celebration on my birthday.
I would n't remember anything, but I was determined to make it special.
The camera on my wrist was knocking against my thigh every step I took.
When I reached my partner of 3 years, I grasped her hands for just a moment, and released her to take a photo of her face.
She grinned at me, her make up was beautiful today, but mostly I loved how happy she looked.
I pushed back her veil, and took another photo. I love her more than anything. I ca n't wait for the rest of my life with her, even with all the missed birthdays, Christmases, and anniversaries. Just cooking dinner with her and snuggling on the couch with her.
She reached out and lifted my veil. She took the camera off my wrist, and I let her. Even though I knew I would n't care about how I looked on this day.
She started to cry a bit. We'd talked about this and had been discussing it daily for months. Today was our engagement day and much as it was our wedding. We never really announced to each other that we were getting married, we'd just started planning.
`` It's the trifecta Hun. We just have to get through today and then we'll be together for the rest of our lives.'' I smiled at her as the officiant started to speak.
|
[ WP ] Two basketball players are star crossed lovers on opposing teams .
|
A wall of sound beats against me from every side. Horns blare: the game horn, air horns that have already been banned by faculty, and even a couple of those horrible vuvuzela's that are banned only by common sense and politeness. And through the horns is shouting, cheering, laughing, yelling, screaming, crying... shoes still squeak on the floor and the game ball is being bounced by a scowling student in a blue and yellow jersey.
I feel completely numb.
Writhing red and orange colors fill my vision. My teammates surround me completely, all slapping my back, pushing and jouncing me so much that they practically lift me off my feet... they *are* lifting me off my feet! They're actually carrying me, triumphantly! They're still screaming half an inch away from my ear, congratulating me! I only just start to comprehend that I... *won* the game. Me. I've never made a basket this entire season, and then...
No, this is n't right, it could n't have been me. I should n't even be on the basketball team. I try to push their hands away from me, but my body feels completely useless, like my limbs are made of wet towels. I try shouting at them that it is n't right, it could n't have been me, I suck, the ball could n't have gone-
And then I am on my feet again, supporting myself with my wet towel legs, while the rest of my team continues jumping and pumping their fists and grabbing each other around the necks and grinding their fists into each others scalps.
I stagger backwards and search desperately for an exit door, still comprehending what had just happened. Stumbling outside into the warm spring air feels to me like walking into a refrigerator because of the sweat covering my body. I shiver, and play back the last few minutes of my life.
The clock was running down, we were behind. Lucas looked for an opening, saw me, made a pass. I saw Riley's expression change from menacing determination to crestfallen despondency. I almost fumbled the ball as it came into my possession, turned, saw... I saw...
Then I remember. I had the ball. As usual, it felt like an unnatural thing in my hands. Something foreign to me, improper, wrong, erroneous. The basketball felt *inappropriate* in my hands. At that moment, I sympathized with Riley. `` I did n't ask for this, I did n't want Lucas to pass me the ball! I feel just as bad about this as YOU do! In fact, worse!''
But then, as I turned to the basket, I saw him. Canaan. He was guarding Tim, and for a brief second before I threw the ball... Just for the *briefest* second... our eyes met. He was looking directly into me with his light-brown eyes. There were bright lights behind him, lighting up the edges of his hair, his either dirty-blond or light-brown hair, making it look luminescent, making a halo around his head. And in that brief second, that tiny instance where Lucas's mistake in passing me the ball did n't happen, where Riley's condescension did n't matter, where my mother's disappointment could n't be felt and where my father's belt could n't touch me... he smiled at me.
And then I won the game.
I exhale a deep breath and fall backward against the outside wall of the auditorium.
The exit door beside me opens.
A boy in a blue and yellow jersey, with dark skin, sandy-colored hair and eyes the color of chocolate milk walks outside.
I look at him. He looks at me.
Smile.
|
[ WP ] Born too early to explore the earth , born too late to explore the galaxy .
|
Since the dawn of human kind, many, many cycles ago, we have striven for immortality, to preserve human kind as a species. For it is the nature of our genetic makeup to replicate itself, to reproduce.
In the first cycle, trillions of years ago, we first recognized the mortal nature of our universe. Ancient wisdom had held the truth, but we refused to see it for so long. Everything comes to an end. Our stars began to die, our worlds ran out of fuel and for the first time in billions of years, we where on the brink of extinction.
It was then, when all hope seemed to fade, that someone invented a way to avoid this seemingly imminent doom. By harnessing the energy of a supernova, we could `` jump'' ourselves into another universe. However, we had no way of telling what would be waiting for us at the other side of the jump. How old the universe would be, what kind of laws would govern it or even how big it would be.
Our jump was completed two billion years ago. We had jumped into a young universe, right after the first few stars had began to form. Since then, our people have inhabited this vessel, generation after generation after generation, ad nauseum. All for one purpose, to one day inhabit these first few proto-planets forming around these stars. Until that day, and all the days thereafter, we will continue to live, reproduce, and die.
|
[ WP ] Tell me About the Day Death Died .
|
Many years ago there was a man who roamed the lands, searching for people who were old, injured or ill to remove from our planet. We called this man Death, he was the end to everything that was ever alive, reaping the souls of all mortal folk. He was also our only cure to immortality, a disease that prolongs the life and suffering of any man who catches it for all eternity.
It was an ordinary person who killed Death. Their will to live was too strong for even his unstoppable powers to counteract. All of Death's energy was spent in an attempt to end this one person's life. Without energy nothing can survive, not even Death. And so Death died, taking with him man's only cure for immortality. Taking with him the only possible end.
At first man loved immortality, the thought of a world with no death would be one of infinite possibilities. Living forever seemed to mean never having to say goodbye, never leaving loved ones behind, never losing the people who meant the most. Humanity celebrated the death of Death, excited for a life without limits, without an end.
Soon people realised that immortality was not always a good thing, the critically injured were in pain for ever more and the ill would suffer for all eternity. For many people Death had meant the end of pain and suffering, an attempt from the many horrors of life. Death had always been a way out, a happy event to any person who had no other escape. Death was an exit to the people trapped by their own suffering, unable to escape the torture of their lives.
Many cruel and evil dictators lived, the rest of the world unable to stop them with no end to oppression in sight because of the inability to kill someone who can not die. The kind of people who revelled in suffering found this new world to be consequence free. They had had nothing to fear but Death, the only thing which could stop them, and so ruled fearlessly, secure in the knowledge they were unstoppable.
Earth became overpopulated, to keep balance every beginning must have an end, and Death was always the end as far as people were concerned. There were too many people for the world to support, too little space and too few resources to prevent large scale suffering. Quality of life was so poor that many people wished they were not alive at all, people wanted a new death.
So now world governments have started a scheme to train a new Death. They are looking for applicants for this position and any persons who know how death works to assist in the education of the chosen individual. If you feel you have the necessary skills, please send your rΓ©sumΓ© to the International Department of Death Education today.
|
[ WP ] Far into the future , long after humans as we currently know them have disappeared , you are a Digital Archaeologist . You are tasked with analyzing an old robot 's code to find out as much as possible about humanity .
|
The students all shuffled in their seats to get a better view. It was not often that I was able to present to them such rare and ancient technologies. My department at the University of the Northern Counties of the New World Order was tasked with delving into ancient technologies unearthed from hundreds of thousands of decades ago and today I was going to present some of my findings to my class of eager students.
`` You can see here just how large and primitive the technologies of the 2000's were and how far we have come from those dark times. As far as we can tell this particular robot was created roughly around 2010-2020. So far from our scans we can tell that this was used as a daily reminder robot. Our scans have shown that code used within this robot was used to respond directly to voice commands. Could you imagine having to verbally communicate to machines?''
The class let out a low collective laugh.
`` As far as we can tell, humanity back then had to rely on getting information out of these robots to help them with their day to day activity. Unfortunately the code used in this robot will not sync properly to any of today's networks, so being able to collect data and update is not possible. Through scans though we have been able to find certain voice commands that work regardless of network connectivity and I shall demonstrate one now.''
The students all looked at each other with excitement.
`` Alexa, Ask me for a fart.''
The cylindrical tube lit up on its upper rim.
`` pffffft''
- /r/expiredcheese
|
[ WP ] A man living by a cliff has prevented 160 suicides over his fifty years of living there , by striking up a conversation with people contemplating suicide . And then killing them himself .
|
Bernard heaved a sigh of bliss as the young woman screamed. Her body quickly shrank in his view as she tumbled down the side of the cliff. She hit the water and the scream ended.
Bernard patted his hands together as if he was wiping the dust off of them.
He never thought it would have been possible. He was a psychopath. He enjoyed killing people. He'd started when he was younger. Went to juvie. Had cops on his ass for years after he was released. He'd killed two more times after that before he'd found his way here. Who'd have thought that the identity of a dead man could be so useful... and so fulfilling.
A park ranger! What a fabulous job. You get to be alone out in the wilds with only a few campers, hikers and suicidal freaks. He'd thought he'd hit gold with the first two, but when he found his first man by the cliff side, blubbering into some old photograph, well, his world turned to gold that day.
Bernard kicked the lady's purse off the cliff and watched it tumbled on a slightly different route from what she had. It never got old. There was always that perfect moment. When he lifted them up and they realized what he was doing. They always froze, and that moment, that wonderful moment when they froze and he heaved them over the edge. the look in their eyes as they began to scream.
Bernard shuddered with pleasure. The salt air caressed his face as he ran his hands down his sides and over his thighs.
Oh yes, today was a good day.
|
[ WP ] A climatic battle , where one side realizes they 've made a critical mistake halfway through .
|
`` We will move troops in here, while flanking here. Do n't forget to be cautious for land mines and snipers.''
The choir of soldiers echoed `` yessir'' and returned to their bunks, strapping on gear for battle.
Private Jones felt under his bunk, feeling around. `` No, no, not it... Ah! Here it is.'' Jones pulls a diary from beneath his bunk, unsheathed the pen, and began to write.
January 13, 2017
Four months into the battle, three days since the nukes were dropped, wiping out a estimated 84 % of humanity.
All this war, all this chaos, just because of one dumb -- -
`` JONES, GET GEARED AND HEAD OUT, THIS IS N'T ENGLISH CLASS''
Jones slammed his book shut, telling himself he would finish the entry later. He meets his squad outside the bunks, and they head into the battlefield.
Jones is on the flanking squad, so they head east for a few miles.
`` Okay, time to start heading north. We should be far enough into the bush not to be seen.'' Exclaims the troop leader.
They walk for about a half hour. All is going well, and they are getting close to the flank point.
`` STOP! GET DOWN! LANDMINE!'' Yells private Gordon.
Everyone hits the deck, adrenaline now being dispensed into everyone's blood.
`` Do you see it?'' Gordon whispers.
Everyone staying very quiet, peers into the dirt ahead. One by one they start to notice the shiny, black object peering out of the soil.
`` Well shit, good eye Gordon, you really-'' the squad leader stops mid sentence, squints his eyes, and proclaims `` Wait, that's no landmine.''
The squad leader jumps up, runs ahead, and picks the object out of the mud.
`` Is that a...''
Everyone goes silent.
The squad leader holds up the iPhone 6s for all to see.
`` How has that survived all this time...?''
Fascinated, they huddle around the device, and turn it on. They swipe to enter, and to their luck, there's no password.
The device opens to a Google search. They all stare at the screen in awe.
`` God damn, they're right, they've been right all along.''
`` They were right, that is how you pronounce gif.''
`` Billions dead, for nothing.'' Chimes in Jones.
`` We have to get this to camp ASAP, this will end the war!'' Says the squad leader.
Stepping backward in disbelief, Private Gordon says; `` Well boys, looks like this is the end of the war, no more death, no more-''
Gordon steps backward onto a landmine.
There were no survivors.
|
[ WP ] Mom closed the curtains , trembling . She leaned in close to me , tears streaming down her cheeks . `` it 's about time you knew ... You see , there is a Santa ... ''
|
``... or there was, up until last night. I'm sorry but it has to be this way, please try to understand!''
`` Mum? What are you saying?'' I noticed frost spreading slowly but surely into the room from the window as my mother held me close, her body shaking with fear. `` Please, tell me!''
My mother drew back to look me in the eyes. `` Twelve years ago I met a man. We were... together for a while. Then he disappeared just before I discovered I was pregnant. I had n't heard from him in years, until today when a letter arrived. It said that he had died and.. oh my poor Sammy!'' Mum's pet-name for me, she had n't used it since I was a toddler. Now I was getting scared too. The frost was advancing across the wall, down to the floor, drawing beautiful fern patterns and reflecting a cold, harsh light which now shone in from outside, showing through even the thick curtains.
`` What's happening Mum? What's going on, please!''
`` Oh Sammy, the letter also said.. it said..'' She choked as the tears flowed. `` Sammy, the elves are coming to take you and, and I ca n't stop them!''
--
That's all years past now, but some nights I remember and wonder whilst the elves sing their strange, haunting songs which echo through their mountain valleys. At some point in the long decades, I suppose I forgave my parents for inflicting this destiny on me. After all, what I do is more than just give presents- without someone to fill these big, clomping boots we'd all be in trouble.
Somewhere, a clock strikes 12 and my Great Work begins for another year. I smile a little and rise to my feet, gently patting my belly- it's show time. I lift my head and unleash my mighty laugh to summon the elves.
`` HO, HO, HO!''
|
[ WP ] You are in a taxi on a gridlocked street when you notice people in neighboring cars are exiting their vehicles .
|
It was nothing..... a potentially massive wall of nothing, and it could be coming this way. It was hard to accept what was going on. The human eye can see because of light. This was n't dark though, it was n't bright either. Black is the absence of light and color. This was absence of absence. It was similar in science class when the teacher made you hold up a piece of paper with 2 dots on it. When you held it at a certain distance away from your face you could n't peripherally see one dot when staring at the other. But, that was a blind spot, this was some kind of mass unbeknownst of size, and growing. Things were n't being swallowed by it, they were n't disappearing. They were never there. Not so suddenly, I think I feel like what happens after this sentence.
|
[ WP ] Protagonist nods off briefly on the subway , awakes without pants
|
`` He's kind of cute, though!''
`` Ew, that's kinda weird... It might be consid-''
Laughs. Whispers... Wispy voices, quietly scratching my ears.
I came back to immediately, feeling a coldness running past my legs- and a chill through my spine. Where the hell am I? And for God's sake, why am I in public *half-naked*?
The voices suddenly had faces as those giggles returned. Maybe it was my stunned face that had caught their attention, or my sudden sobriety.
`` You alright?'' One of them spoke to me- a girl with brown hair ( opposed to two other blondes ) - slightly out of curiosity- and partly out of pity.
It came back to me then. I was out drinking with some friends at the bar, and I'd found this one girl... A seductress of the most magnificent kind- perhaps she was a prostitute- I could n't quite say... Could n't tell, as I was so drunk!
I got her alone, and we were having a great time, flirting- as she led a slurring me to what I thought was her apartment... Where's my wallet- my keys- everything???
`` Hey- our friend would n't mind giving you a ride...''
`` Do n't say that!'' The kinder, inquisitive girl slapped one of the other playfully in the arm- bashfully, looking away from me.
`` Looks like this is our stop. Now's your chance, Amy...''
Funnily enough, it was my stop as well. I got off with the 3 of them, the brunette ( Amy, as they called her ) was sure to stick close to me- even in my post-boozy, pantsless state. I could n't comprehend why- I suppose she was as desperate as me...
As we walked through the tunnels and stairs leading to the outdoors, I decided to try my luck.
`` Awkward as this situation might be... Amy- was it?'' She jumped at the sound of her name. `` My place is close by- why not come by ( *her friends laughed at this point* ) - wait outside. And I'll get dressed, explain the story, and take you out to eat...''
Odd as my proposition was, and as loudly as her friends had squawked- she said yes. She was saying her goodbyes to her friends, and I was grinning all along.
Then- as if a curse from the Gods- a familiar voice and face appeared... Barely recognizable, but sure enough... `` Hey, girls! So after leaving the bar, I met this guy...''
Oh no... I have to hurry and go- NOW!
`` So this *loser* gets stupid drunk, *convinced* hes gon na get lucky- and I lead him to some back alley- no one around but me and him. I leave him there in his underwear, oblivious- nothing but a subway ticket and his sorry self.
I found a load of cash off this rich dork, so... Drinks are on me, girls!''
A round of laughter as they all stared at me- *too much ( mockery ) for one night*- then Amy left my side and I ran ( freezing ) from those piercing cackles...
|
[ WP ] A pirate is sailing the seas looking for a legendary treasure but never finds it , while the crew are throwing lavish parties every night . You 're the crew 's accountant , and you 're starting to get annoyed .
|
I may not fight, I may not drink
I may not have large battle scars
But my job's the worst, methinks:
I am a pirate accountant, YAR!
*CHORUS:
O I am a pirate accountant
A fearsome actuary
And though I'm non combatant
I'm every bit as scary*
Our humble crew, though they are tough
Piracy provides so little money
So our finances, they were quite rough
Our situation aint so funny
*CHORUS*
But these big blokes, Lord bless their souls,
Their cheer stays full and hearty
So every night upon the shoals
They threw their great big parties
*CHORUS*
And though they could just end me
With naught more than a leer
The books, they looked quite ghastly
And I'd had it up to here
*CHORUS*
I strode up to the captain
My angered voice did move:
`` I've held the brandy captive
'Till the balances improve!''
*CHORUS*
These burly men, their burly frames
They trembled, terrified
They all jumped up as if in flames
Their pillaging was hurry-fied
*CHORUS*
So now you know why this egghead's
The baddest man you'll ever see
Forevermore you all shall dread
The Accountant of the Seas!
*CHORUS*
|
[ WP ] The Alien Federation has been keeping tabs on the humans of Earth since they first appeared . They do surveillance missions once every 300 years to keep track of our progress , the last mission was 300 years ago . The aliens are shocked by our progress since 1714 .
|
[ Status Report # 235 ]
Time and Date: 4.54B SC, 0100 PC
We had arrived on experimental observation planet sk47-k on schedule with minor complications during the journey and the crew and experimental teams intact. Careful assessment by the preliminary teams of the planet and surrounding quadrant revealed relatively little interference with the subject planet with minimal to no deviation from the original experimental design. There was some damage to the long range control defense probes from poachers, however, it seems they have been doing their jobs as no poachers have been able to leave the quadrant with any sort of payload and any members of the species that were taken were eliminated as mandated by the experimental design. The subject race as a whole continues to remain isolated from any contact from extra-planetary influences. Immediately proceeding the preliminary checks, the tasks of gathering intelligence on the different aspects of the alpha race of the experimental planet were split into 6 groups each with their respective subgroups divided according to land area and development of the settlements. Data on all aspects of the race from technological to social development were compiled from copies of the data gathered by the alpha race as well as from our own equipment and are currently on the last stages of assessment. A full report will be compiled and presented to me to be reviewed within 2 of the planets lunar cycles. A copy of the full report will be sent ahead before departure and the original will arrive with us however we are predicted to be slightly delayed due to potential adverse deep space conditions predicted by our ships long range scanners causing us to take a circuitous route back home.
[ Personal Message { encoded:66k838 Security key: md-jh89278316dsf65d66 } ]
I have had periodic updates and talks with each of the groups leaders and although this is not official Ma'am, I have to say I am apprehensive. I know we have had high hopes for this species but it remains to be seen whether they will be accepted by The Alliance. That is saying, of course, if they survive. It really is a mixed result here.. On the one hand, their potential is undiminished as primarily and subsequently observed but on the other the species is largely volatile. The lives of a majority of people on the planet are controlled by the relative few with their short term interest outweighing the species broader needs. The members of the greater population are easily swayed by incorrect and misleading information causing rifts within factions of the race as each struggles for control. Although recently their technology has been exponentially growing, the primary task of their greatest minds are forcefully put towards furthering warfare with some `` happy accidents'' that otherwise directly benefit the well being of the planet's inhabitants. That is not to say that there are n't those who not only reflect but exemplify the greater ideals of The Alliance, but they seem to make up a much smaller percentage of the general population with most others just making it day by day with their primary concerns being nothing more than their immediate personal existence. Their progress is still less than ideal to be both beneficial and congruent to the greater good of the peaceful existence we are currently maintaining. The last thing we would want is for enemies of this peace to get their hands on the more dangerous members of this race as that would be a recipe for disaster. I do have to say that if this species is anything, it is awe inspiring. The horrible atrocities and potential for evil are equally as great as its potential for incredible good. Only time will tell as we are at a pivotal point in this species history and our next expedition will determine whether their isolation will end and they will begin their journey to join the ranks of The Alliance or whether we will scrap the planet, take what few members we can for further long term testing and observation and start over again. I can only hope we do not end up having to end such a long and tireless endeavor by executing the Rapture Protocol..
|
[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - Illustrating Wonderland Edition
|
Alice in wonderland/Looking-glass is my favourite book! ( Well the first copy I owned they were squished into one but now I have them as separate. I preferred the one big one but hey ho )
I love the drawings, normally when it comes to illustrated books I see the pictures as a distraction, I mean I'm trying to get through'A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms' but the pictures are so large and the text is all squished around it and I do n't really appreciate the art unless I go back and look at them specifically. Polar opposite to how I read Alice. I love those illustrations and my artwork is vaguely similar to scratchy black outlines. These books impacted my life so much and I am so god damn happy that this year is the anniversary of all things Alice. The other day I bought a pocket notebook with the Hatter on the front, it has plain pages so maybe I'll be more tempted to draw more.
Oh, I just love Alice so much.
|
[ WP ] SETI receives a transmission from intelligent life . After some deciphering , the message reads , `` Keep quiet or they 'll find you ! ''
|
Jerry Ehman hated his job. He worked at the Big Ear telescope and spent 10 hours a day watching print outs of alphanumeric data from the telescope. He had signed up for this knowing that it was a crucial role in the search for extra-terrestrial intelligence, but he had not considered how mind numbingly boring each day would be. Occasionally he would see signals that he knew corresponded to cosmic events like stars exploding or satellites circling the earth, but rarely was there any signal which was of any interest. 3 months prior he thought he had a unique signal, but it only took 2 days for his team to realize that it was just interference from a satellite.
All of that changed on August 15th 1977 at 7.12pm when Jerry was only 15 minutes away from going home. Very few people would have immediately realized the significance of the letters β 6EQUJ5 β being printed out, but Jerry was well trained. This was no ordinary signal. Jerry took out his calculator to calculate the intensity of the signal based on its alphanumeric code. As soon as he clicked enter: β Wow! β
While in college Jerry had studied the work of SETI physicists Phillip Morrison and Giuseppe Cocconi who tried to figure out the best way to communicate with aliens. The issue they were trying to solve was how 2 different civilizations could communicate with no common language; we would be unable to interpret any signal they sent us, and visa-versa. Their answer was that electronic signals designed for extra-terrestrial intelligence should correspond to commonly known natural mathematical constants like the speed of light. One of their specific recommendations was that a universally understood extra-terrestrial signal could have a frequency of 1,420 MHz, the resonant frequency of hydrogen, which is the most common element in the cosmos.
Jerry β s eyes were glued in thought to the calculator, which read 1,420. The signal received corresponded exactly to the resonant frequency of hydrogen just as Morrison and Cocconi had suggested 18 years earlier. He knew that no naturally occurring cosmic events produced such energy, so the only other explanation was that the signal was sent by extra-terrestrials.
Before Jerry could finish his thought the signal appeared again, and again, and again, all from the same location in the sky. Over the course of 2 minutes the signal appeared a total of 32 times. Jerry grabbed the printed output, his calculator and his glasses before running down the hall. He burst into the office of Paul Johnson, the director of the Big Ear telescope.
Jerry barely paused to breathe while excitedly explaining his findings. Paul interrupted:
β I think you should have a seat β
β Don β t you know what this means Paul? We have never seen anything like this before β
Paul paused
β Jerry, what you are about to hear is confidential. You may never speak of this signal again to anyone, and you have to believe me that this goes all the way to the top and telling anyone about this would likely constitute treason β
β What β s going on β Jerry said nervously.
β The message is Morse code. When translated it reads β KEEP QUIET OR THELL FIND YOU β β
β How could you possibly know that, you haven β t even seen the signal β
β We have been receiving that signal for as long as we have been listening β
|
[ WP ] You wake up to the sound of a shovel going *clank* against the lid of your coffin .
|
*Clank*
My eyes shot open. In the dank darkness, my pupils enlarged, trying to see what was going on. My brain thought a thousand thoughts, to make sense of what was happening. My heart beat a mile a minute, full of fear.
Oxygen. That's what I needed more than anything right now. I could n't breathe; all I could do was lay in darkness and silence. My mind kept working, kept thinking... until it finally thought of a solution.
Survive. That's what I needed to do. I needed to survive... but how? I got the answer then: hit the coffin.
*BANG* *BANG* *BANG*
I banged with all of my might, trying to tell them. I screamed, the sound echoing around the tight space. Alas, this deprived me of the oxygen I could've kept in me. Now, my eyesight became even darker. My senses started to fade. I gently closed my eyes, and lay my arms at my sides. I gave up.
*chck* *chck* *chck*
A shovel dug into the ground and revealed a coffin. The lid was gently pulled off, and a corpse was inside. It seemed peaceful, but its knuckles looked white and scratched.
`` Mr. Kain, he is most certainly dead.''
`` B-But, sir, I swear I-I heard banging!''
`` Must've been your imagination.'' He slid the lid back onto the coffin. `` Now, do n't tell me about this man again, okay?''
`` O-Okay...'' The two put the coffin back into the ground, and walked off.
|
[ WP ] In the future , murderers are executed in a similar way to how they killed their victim . You go into the execution room and find the most harmless weapon .
|
I entered the execution room, moments before the murderer would be dragged to me. I noticed on the table before me a small object, silver and clean. I approached the table and as I drew closer I saw what the object was. A spoon. A simple, clean and tiny dish spoon. I raised an eyebrow at this one, wondering how on earth I would be charged to dispatch with this man, with only such an ordinary object. Or how, for that matter, he managed to kill anyone in the first place with it. The door behind me slid open, and into the room two men dressed in white clothing wheeled the victim. He was restrained with heavy leather bands on his arms and legs.
`` Please, I'm sorry..''
He tried to explain to one of the men, but they did n't seem to notice. They moved him to the corner of the room and turned him to face me and then left as quickly as they came. I watched them go.
The room was silent for a while, aside from his sniffling, while I sat there staring; pondering what I should do with this spoon.
`` I did n't mean it, I was just angry..'' He choked back tears.
`` I'm sure you were.'' I replied. Still confused as to what I was about to do. At that moment there came a buzzing noise and the wall beside us slid back to reveal a hidden alcove. I turned to see what was there before making the sudden realization.
`` Ahh..'' I said. `` You are cruel, indeed.''
I knelt down to the burner, and flipped it on and held the spoon to the flame for several moments until it was red hot.'Such a simple object,' I thought to myself and then stood up and turned around to face the man, crying now, strapped helplessly to the wheelchair.
`` Open up.''
|
[ WP ] You are the leader of an international drug cartel , but due to a series of misunderstandings , think that you are running a legitimate candy company .
|
`` Candy Man??''
`` Yes George, Candy Man.. is that a problem?''
`` No Sarg.. just wondering when he's gon na start sending out them Golden Tickets for his business.. street coupons''
Various police officers begin to crack up, another cop, Tony, in the back is trying to add to the hilarity
`` Charlie and The Cocaine Factory!''
A few tight lipped officers who look like they just came back from doing a few tours in Iraq.. they have the look of seriousness on their faces.. but not for too long.
They start to snicker and snort.
`` Yea, what about those Fizzy Lifting Drinks huh?''
The officer's inner circle of inside jokes became suddenly unfunny
`` Not funny, Steve. Cool it next time would ya''
`` Let's get back on topic here'' The Sergeant pulls out a red dry erase marker and lays the foundation of a flimsy house planted firmly on the whiteboard so everyone can see
`` This is a house of cards'' his marker tapping the board loud enough for everyone to hear
He begins to concentrate on his portrait and gets neater in his drawing. He draws a large tank with cannons firing
`` Tighty The Tank''
And to top it off, he draws a massive line through it, this time in green
`` They earn em, we burn em'!''
`` Fellas, I want you to be careful out there today. Those punks down in Mexico did n't take El Chapo's word for it, to stop messing with the DEA. They are flooding the U.S. with even more narcotics.''
The Sarg takes a swig of cold water before commencing
`` Do n't forget the video I showed you, those 2 informants and that chainsaw. Boys they're animals. They do n't stop for anyone. Not even kids''
He looks at them with a grim blank stare
`` You're dismissed.''
George, Steve and another officer rise with the others and start out the door. They start to banter about last night's game on TV and ask one another about how their marriage is going
`` Boring as usual. She wo n't do anything with the lights on. I tried to get her to switch positions, change it up a bit..''
`` That's what you get for dating a prude'' Steve begins to chuckle himself, his orange mustache is being dipped into an ice cream cone
`` At least my wife can see my dick you fat fuck''
`` Up yours Romey!''
The other officer, being straight out of the academy and strictly about business urges them to knock it off. They have a big day ahead of them. They're preparing for a STING operation on a meth lab.
A brown rundown motel rears its ugly head. Women who appear to be pushing 50 are stumbling about with clunky unwashed hair.. in actuality, after being asked for ID, the women turn out to be in their early 20s
`` This kills me inside man''
`` This is where I grew up. My kids play down the street from here. They ca n't even walk to school in the morning without hearing gunshots''
`` Ca n't even go to the store and buy food without being stopped by shady characters asking for a Mr. Jose Guadalupe Ponche de Mehico. Ca n't go anywhere without asshole narcos causing a scene''
`` Let's face it George.. in 5 years we'll be retired anyhow. Then we can move away and leave this mess behind'' Steve says with a look of relief, he glances out the window and daydreams of a happy place.
They pull into a parking spot, suit up in bullet proof vests and prepare to go inside. The other officer informs Steve and George of a wiretap going on not too far from here.
After walking into Room 13, an elaborate display of radio equipment, Type A personalities and dead walkie talkies being charged enter the scene.
`` Rookie here says you guys have a lead on a possible Mexican distributor''
( continued in comment/reply below )
|
[ IP ] Island Castle and Destroyed Ship
|
It was the cries of crows that woke Dieter Hagedorn from his dreamless sleep, their caws harsh and unwelcoming.
He opens his eyes, staring up into the overcast sky. He clenches his fist, taking in a handful of the cold wet sand and letting it spill out bit by bit. The sound of the crashing waves buffets his ears and the smell of the sea salt stings his nose. His clothes are ragged, his filthy shirt plastered against his body, sodden with water. He is covered with cuts and scrapes, courtesy of the broken timbers and jagged rocks on the shore. His lips are cracked and his throat parched. The thirst for water is unbearable. He rolls over, back to the sea, as if to show his utter contempt for the force of nature that tore his ship apart like so much cordwood. He stares at the peculiar mountain in the distance, intrigued at unnaturally sharp peaks. It is gazing at the edifice for five minutes with his dehydrated mind that realization dawns upon him. It is a castle, a citadel!
Summoning up some unknown source of strength, he rises on shaky legs. Half stumbling, he makes his way towards the looming structure. Dieter shrinks as he fully grasps the sheer size of the castle. *No man could have built such a construction. It's impossible. * A looming part of him wants to flee from this place, but his thirst is so great that he continues walking on. The tide is at it's lowest, the water barely knee-deep at worst places. It takes him the better part of an hour to cross the distance. He arrives at the gates.
Staring down at him are monstrous beast carved from the darkest granite, nearly onyx black in color. Gargoyles, Griffins, Dragons, Cockatrices and more glare at him, their stone eyes and jaws seemingly eager to feast on his flesh. He ignores the massive statues and knocks on the great oak doors, the sound of his fists deadened by the size of the towering gate. He waits a minute, then pounds again upon the door as he does so, the gate slowly swings open. Carefully, looking about, he enters the castle.
`` Hello? Is, is anyone there? I'm in need of aid. Hello?'' His voice is lost in the massive size of the courtyard. He hears the trickling sound of water and spies a small fountain. He rushes to it, cupping his hands and slurping down the deliciously cool water. Splashing it onto his face, he continues drinking. He looks into the water at his reflection, taking in the image of the man before him. It is the face of a tired man, hair tangled and greasy. His grey eyes are the same color as the stormy sky above. It is looking in his reflection that he glances at one of the statuary, a Wyvern. Still looking in the reflection he tilts in head. *That's odd, that one was not there earlier... * A roar comes from behind him. The granite Wyvern comes alive and leaps down from the roof. He shouts in terror at the sight. From all around the courtyard, stone beast animate from their sleep and spring down into the courtyard. Snarling, baying, shrieking, they encircle him, jaws and beaks dripping with saliva. Dieter spins in place searching for an avenue of escape. His shoulders slump in defeat. He is surrounded.
He collapses onto his knees, the last of his energy gone from him. He whispers. `` Please. Someone. Help.'' As if having heard his prayer, a triumphant series of horns sound out, echoing across the courtyard. The beasts look up from their hungry gazes and whimper in submission. The great doors to the inner keep swing open with a thundering crash, and a file of armored guards marches out, bedecked in the finest of clothes. Dieter Hagedorn's shouts of thanks and smiles turn to screams of fear as he gets a closer look of his would be rescuers.
Advancing towards him is a macabre parade. Twenty horsemen lead the way, clad in in chain mail and plate, their lances held aloft with black pennants attached. But these riders are no ordinary men. Their mail is rusty, their plates dented in. Their horses are skeletal animals, devoid of but bits of flesh and skin. The knights are likewise, their grinning faces have upon them bits of muscle and rotting hair. They have no eyes yet mange to stare at Dieters terrified figure. One hundred footmen also emerge. Marching in perfect lockstep they are garbed in rusting mail and tattered black uniforms. They are walking skeletons, wielding razor sharp spears and swords, their shields are worn with use but still sturdy. They carry banners, ragged and torn things. On them is a recurring feature, a black background, a silvery pale moon, and the castle in silhouette. The only sound save his blubbering pleads for mercy is the foot steps of the skeletal warriors. They do not speak, only encircling him with a dreadful silence. It is an army of the dead.
The keep's door open again, and from it darkness springs forth, enveloping the day in night. In the span of ten seconds, the courtyard is pitch black, save for the torches some of the undead soldiers carry. Huddled over in fear, Dieter wipes away some of the tears on his face. The skeletal guards do not attack. *They are waiting for something. * Another heralding of trumpets sounds forth. *Or someone. * From the farthest reaches a silvery light appears. Surround by such terrors as those around him, that small unwavering light is beautiful. It grows closer. Nearer and nearer the bright light comes. So pure is the light that he is forced to shield his eyes from the radiance. Then someone appears from the light.
It is a woman. Close to his own age of twenty-one if he had to guess. She is clad in a silvery dress, one that flows and hugs her body like mercury. Her shoulders are tantalizingly bare, as is one of her pale calves. Her raven hair blows softly in the unnatural wind, a lock of platinum white streaks it. Her eyes are of the palest viridian in color, the color of malachite. And she has the look of pure fury and hatred in those beautiful eyes. Her long and graceful strides take her down the long stairs, her grisly undead guardians part way for her. She stops fifteen paces away from Dieter and in a scornful voice questions him.
`` Why are you here?'' Her voice, though sweet as honey, is laced with venom. `` Who are you?'' Dieter's gorge rises. `` I, I am sorry. I am but a merely a man who sought shelter. My ship, it, it was sunk and I was thrust upon your shore. Forgive me. it was not my intention to intrude.'' Two rusty swords press up against his throat, their undead wielders glaring down at him with eyeless sockets. The fair but terrifying woman takes a step forward. `` Ah, a simple traveler, lost you say? More likely a warrior, come to despoil my kingdom? I know your type well, I know what lies in the hearts of men like you. You have come to claim me as your own, to subjugate me in my own kingdom! Is n't that the truth!''
He falls to his knees, hands clasped together. `` No! I speak the truth. Please. I am merely lost. My name is Dieter Hagedorn, I mean you no ill. Please, who are you?'' The blades at his throat dig into his skin, a small trickle of blood drips down his neck. The enthralling woman nears him. `` I am Queen Malvina. You will address me with my title or as'your majesty'. You will continue to address me as such or else face dire consequences. Am I clear?'' Her pale green eyes rage were disgust and hate. `` Y, Yes your majesty. Forgive me for my transgression. I'll depart immediately.''
He attempts to rise, but his captors shove him back down, their bony grasp tight on his shoulders. He raises his head again to find her mere inches away. Her eyes boring straight into his grey pupils. `` At last. A confession. Indeed you have transgressed. The punishment would ordinarily be death, but in my mercy I will be content will having you rot away in a cell forever.''
She rises and walks away, her quicksilver dress hugging her with every step. `` Wait! You ca n't! You have no right to imprison me!'' She whirls mid-stride, the hem of her dress fluttering in the wind. `` On the contrary, I have every right!'' She turns to her ghastly captain of the guard, his cloak of office tattered and stained. `` Take him to the dungeons. No food for three days. I will be in my chambers. Do not disturb me.'' With a clash of gauntlet against cuirass he salutes. As his jailer disappears into her tower, Dieter raises his head at the approach corpse. He raises his gauntleted fist and swings down. Darkness finds Dieter Hagedorn.
|
[ WP ] A tourney of strength and skill is traditionally held to win the princess β s hand in marriage . This year the winner is a woman .
|
The pennants flapped in the afternoon breeze β bright colors that represented each knight from around the kingdom. There was the green one with the silver eagle, the red one with the golden lion, the violet one with the rearing griffin, the yellow one with the crossed swords, the blue one with the three stars, and many, many others.
The King β s Tournament was the highlight of every year and the strongest and most cunning fighters traveled far and wide to partake. The prize of winning was usually unimaginable wealth, titles, and castles β this year, however, it was the hand of the princess β and that β s why Rose was there.
She looked at the scoreboard, there were only two pennants left now. The first one was the iconic golden lion, growling against the red background β the heraldry of Sir Eric of Durthwall. The second one was black with a thin silver stripe across the middle, which was Rose β s.
The announcer stepped up to his podium and the lively crowd calmed down in anticipation. It was time for the final round.
β In golden red! The two-time champion of the King β s Tournament! The Defender of Durthwall! Sir Eric the Lion! β
The crowd roared as the knight stepped into the arena. He lifted his gauntleted fists and then bowed as deep as his bulky full-plate would allow. He took a few measured steps, holding his intricately forged lion helmet under his arm, making sure everyone at got a good look at him. Then he turned towards the King β s booth and lobbed a kiss at the princess. The crowd went wild and Rose saw that the princess first put her hand over her mouth, gasping at the bold move, and then proceeded to fan her face.
β In billowing black! β the announcer shouted when the crowed simmered down. β The unpredictable first-time contender! The Shadow of Trinewell! Rose Ravenmoore! β
Rose smiled under the hood of her black cloak, the Shadow of Trinewell, she liked that. One could say many things about the regime, but at least they were good at inventing nicknames for the tournament contenders.
As she stepped onto the blood stained stands of the arena, the audience cheered her name. It was quite unlike when she stepped into the arena at the start of the tournament. She had only received a few and far between claps from the gallery then. Now she had an entire fan club chanting her name.
With the afternoon breeze toying with her cloak, she walked straight up to her position. She didn β t care about showmanship or pleasing the crowd. The only thing she had in mind was that fair and delicate hand of the princess.
The Lion put on his helmet and nodded respectfully at Rose. That β s why he was the crowd favorite β they said that the only thing that exceeded his prowess in combat was his good manners. Rose countered by spitting on the ground in front of her, which caused the entire grandstand erupt in outrage and delight.
The horn sounded and Sir Eric the Lion drew his sword and strode across the arena. Rose backed until she reached the shadows of the stands behind her, before producing her own blade. The audience held their breath as the knight circled Rose, just outside the edge of the shade. So, he had watched Rose β s other fights and quite understandably decided to stay away from the deadly darkness.
The knight swung his sword, not to kill, but to probe his opponent. The Lion was an experienced warrior, with the patience a chess player. The people above them cheered as Rose dodged the blade. She stepped back further, and followed the side of the arena, with Sir Eric in tow.
They reached the edge of the shadow and Rose could see a smile on the knight β s face through the slits of his helmet. He took a step forward, but Rose was quicker. She lunged with her blade. The first clang of metal resounded through the arena as the Lion parried. He pushed her back. And with both hands, drove his sword through her chest.
The crowd went silent, but then the cloak went slack and fell, with the Lion β s sword piercing its back. Rose stepped out of the shadows on the other side of the arena, and the crowd completely lost it. Feet stamped, hands clapped, and a roar rose towards the sky. Rose looked up and felt the first raindrops hit her face.
The Lion was already half across the arena. He lifted his blade once more and Rose was forced to parry this time. The impact made her arm go numb. She rolled sideways to avoid the follow-up cleave. She was in a bad position now, with the knight between herself and the shadow. The Lion knew it too and approached her rapidly.
Rose kicked out in an attempt to sweep the knight off his feet, but he was quicker this time and casually leaped over her leg. As he landed he drove his blade forward and forced Rose to parry with both her hands on her sword. That was the moment Sir Eric had been waiting for. Rose cried out in pain as the knight stepped on her leg, effectively pinning her down.
Rose was the faster warrior, but without her ability to move, the only thing that counted was raw strength, and there Sir Eric was the clear victor. She tried desperately to get her leg free while dodging his blade as it came down like a sharp pendulum. The blade finally struck her shoulder and the knight roared in triumph as the steel came out red.
The crowd was just white noise to Rose as she struggled to get free. The Lion would have none of that, though, and rolled on top of her, just to make sure. He didn β t need his sword to end this, just his fists. Rose felt the heavy body and armor of the knight pinning her down like a lead paperweight.
Then the clouds eclipsed the sun, plunging the entire arena in shadow. Like smoke, Rose seeped through the Lion β s grip and materialized behind him. Expertly she found a crack in his armor and lodged her dagger in his back. She stabbed a second time, and a third, and a fifth until the knight wasn β t moving anymore.
The crowd was still for a few tense moments, then as the rain hit in full so did the deafening cheers of the crowd. Rose smiled towards the King β s booth. The princess and her father were still sitting down, not partaking in the celebrations. The princess was pale and her bottom lip quivered, and the king β s face was a block of granite.
Rose steered her steps out of the arena, excited about her victory. The king was worried for the wrong reasons, she thought. Rose wasn β t after the kingdom or his daughter in marriage. She was literally after her hand, and she intended to cut it off as soon as the ceremony started. It was the last ingredient she needed for her ritual of ascension.
*******
If you liked this story, please check out my little library for more: [ /r/Lilwa_Dexel ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/Lilwa_Dexel/ )
|
[ WP ] What 's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to you ?
|
`` Fuck you,'' he said as I slid my knife further up his thigh.
`` Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fu- ahhhhh!''
I smiled as I looked at my reflection in the pool of blood. I actually smiled, after years of pain and suffering at the hands of this man, this thing. I had wished for this chance for days, wished to repay his every thrust and grunt with a thrust and grin of my own.
`` You whore! You fucking whore!''
`` I am what you made me, father,'' I smiled wider, and plunged the knife deeper into his left thigh. He screamed and it filled my heart with joy. Oh, revenge is the best drug, and tonight I was a junkie, an addict, and I planned to get my fill.
`` Do you remember my sister? Do you remember Marlene? Do you remember the birth mark on her neck? Could you even see it the night you strangled her?''
I twisted the knife with each question, and gleefully watched his face twist with it.
`` It was right about... here''. I brought the blade to his neck, gently gliding it across his skin as his body shivered with fright, just like my mum used to, every night.
I was n't done with him yet. His death would n't be as sweet as his screams.
I made sure there was a lot of screaming that night, paired with a lot of dismembered body parts. I laughed as he struggled to remove the chains between my slashes, his eyes as red as the blood his tears fell to.
`` What was it you'd tell your friends after you'd beat mum? Oh right,'I had a hell of a time tonight','' I said between cuts, `` Well guess what, daddy? I'm having a hell of a time tonight.''
I could feel his breathing getting heavier, his body weakening. He would n't survive long now. I brought the knife between his knees and placed its tip on his.
`` I wish mum was here to see this.''
`` Your mother... was a whoring bitch,'' he muttered between gasps, `` You're just like her.''
|
[ CW ] Using terrible analogies , write me a story about a private detectives first case .
|
I'm finding that being a detective is a lot like being a dick, since there's a lot of grunt work. Right now I'm just sitting in an unmarked van. If I had to describe the sitting, I'd say it feels somewhere around the 35th minute of a read-and-poop, when your ass feels kind of weird and may or may not have fallen asleep, and you're thinking that while you're comfortable, it might be nice to get up and stretch. As for the van, it's akin to a Hummer and a Jeep having a child out of wedlock that both were embarrassed by, a baby that became an orphan and was bullied by Jeremy Clarkson and led a pathetic existence alone in a filthy garage until being adopted by a broke rural police department.
Looking through my unnecessarily high-powered binoculars at the man I'm assigned to follow gives the feeling of being Superman staring into Lois Lane's house, provided that Lois Lane were a 60 year old fat male slob of Ukrainian descent playing X-Box and eating nachos with cheese dribbling onto an unwashed potbelly.
I hate my decision to take this job as much as Hitler hated the Jews before he got rejected from art school, which is to say only a little bit. Taking a whiff of the vehicle's interior, I realize I smell terrible, in the sense that a Tour de France competitor smells terrible not because they just finished the race and have n't showered yet, but because they have a foul fungus growing on their armpits during mid-November for no particular reason. With my back resting upon seats as leathery as a Chinese sweat-shop produced basketball that's only half-finished, and thus only half-leather, I realize my level of discomfort shares much with that of an underweight pre-teen with a perfectly normal home life who finds himself covered in garbage after the bullies toss him into the bin outside the back of his below-average public school for having a lisp.
|
[ WP ] The city at night in the winter .
|
The world is vague; the edges sanded off.
Streetlamps stand tall, capped with gentle orange blobs. Cars trundle up the road, soft black shapes with blazing red tail-lights. Across the street, a little green man hovers in mid-air, occasionally turning red. Everything that is n't luminous is ill-defined, impossible to discern.
My glasses are steamed up. I take them off, wipe them on my sleeve. Behind me, an enormous tube of meat is rolling on a spit.
I'm in a kebab shop. I do n't want a kebab; unlike the other customers lurching and laughing around me, I'm mostly sober. I just ducked in here for refuge from the chill outside. The spit gives off comforting waves of heat, while a large Turkish man with mustache gleefully hacks meat from it.
Can he take my order? I'm still browsing the menu. He looks at me funny. The only thing on the menu is the word: *Kebab. * Followed by *Β£5.99. *
Strange, chintzy-yet-enchanting music plays from a radio, behind the shop counter. I wonder where it's from? Turkey, I guess. I look out the shop window, past the cheerful letters painted on the glass ( *Best Turkish Kebab*, the letters insist, optimistically. ) The street across the road is a stretch of pavement plastered in neon spill from bars and clubs and cheap hotels. Just like the street this shop is on. Just another scrap of London, late at night.
Women in short skirts and men in long coats hurry past, darting from the bars and clubs and scurrying to get indoors. ( How do those girls survive this weather, in skirts like that? ). I ought to hurry home. I can picture the soft bed waiting for me, practically feel the cosy warmth of my flat. I cling to the idea, to spur me out the door. This place is making me stink of char-grilled meat.
But the warmth in here is certain, while my flat's a trek through frigid winds away.
So maybe I'll just stay. Just for five more minutes.
Maybe some food would help me fight the cold.
|
[ WP ] : Being thrown back 200 years in time sucked . However , making a living as a freak circus attraction turned out to be pretty sweet .
|
Never listen to a Tallahassee drug dealer when he says β trust me, the high is worth the come-down. β
The air in the tent was hot and thick with the smell of horseshit and watered-down beer. The nearest city was 3 days away, and the nearest room with AC was 170 years further.
β Still, isn β t the worst gig I β ve ever had β I thought to myself with a smirk.
You take a lot of crap jobs when you β re a dueling pianist. Sure, you get the odd bar show, but I wasn β t the only one in the field desperate enough to take a children β s party to make ends meetβ¦. Still, what I wouldn β t give for an hour of screaming brats if it meant I could go home in a car, on a paved road, to a home with indoor plumbing.Through the tent flaps I could hear an anxious crowd whispering amongst themselves.
β Fucking Chrisβ¦ β I muttered as I dusted off the beat up old piano that had become my bread and butter.
He β d been my partner for years. Sure not every night was easy, but we got along and we made enough to keep us feed and high. Playing any song upon request may sound amazing, but honestly it gets mind numbing after awhile. The best response we ever got was mild surprise we could come up with the tune at a whim, and honestly that β s about all we deserved.
β Ladies and Gentleman, step right up, the shows about to start. You β re not gon na wan na miss this once in a lifetime opportunity! β John the barkerβ¦ barked. I always felt like John oversold it, but he was a good guy, except for the racism. To be fair he wasn β t especially racist, he was just living in 1816; everyone was, is, kind of racist. At least I β d finally made friends here.
I remember waking up on a dirt road in the middle of a clichΓ© western town. I figured Chris had just dumped me somewhere as a prank after I had too much of that stuff his sleazy friend had sold us. Assuming everyone around you is an actor WAY too committed to a theme-park role isn β t the best way to meet people. Being naked didn β t help much either.
β You ready?! β John asked, poking his head through the curtain and grinning that big crooked toothed grin.
β Yeahβ¦ why not? β
β Ladies and Gentleman, introducing the Maestro of Maestros, the only man who can invent an entire song off of just one word! β
As the crowd of dirty faced settlers pushed in, I thought to myself the only difference between a parlor trick and true magic is timing. Well, might as well give the people what they paid for.
β I need a word, any word will do! β I shouted, the practiced phrase rolling off my tongue with ease.
β Love! β Shouted a young couple in the back
β Passion β murmured an old woman up front.
β BUTTS β bellowed a particularly uncreative clod from the middle of the roomβ¦ Meh. Might as well run with itβ¦
β I believe I heard a suggestion from the suave gentleman in the cowboy hat β and with that I started tinkling the keys with a dramatic flourish.
I took a dramatic pause before speak singing β Oh my God, Becky look at her buttβ¦ β
Hey, it β s a living.
|
[ WP ] Batman is a guest on Sesame Street . The theme of today 's episode is `` How To Stop Bullying '' .
|
Black fabric fluttered through the air, grazing Joe's left hand, which gripped the base of the boom mic that hung seven feet above the stage. It felt like vinyl against his fingertips, as rough as the cheap tarp that his dad used to use to patch the window of their RV after punching through it. Once every six months or so, rail gin and a distaste for children used to send his dad's fists flying through the window. Eventually, he stopped replacing it. He moved onto other punching bags.
Suddenly, the fabric danced from Joe's fingers, feeling lighter than silk. As it grazed his hand and drifted down, it felt so different than the tough material of just a moment ago that he reached down, eager to snatch it up and force his senses to make up their minds.
`` Is n't your whole job to hold that microphone?''
A voice snarled up at him. For a second he met the dark eyes that glared up from the stage below. Even though from his position on the catwalk, Joe stood a good six feet above the masked figure, it was all he could do not to sprint towards the exit. Instead, he took three quick steps back then looked away. The sound of his quickening exhales sent him fumbling to re-position the microphone, desperate to hide his fear.
*That scary son of a bitch is* **not** *Sesame Street material*.
Joe's thoughts echoed the ones running through Batman's mind. He did not stand still for more than a moment while he waited for the taping to begin. He paced, stopped, peered into corners. Looked for what he could n't find before arriving today - conclusive evidence that this was a trap.
Word on the street was that an unknown company bought PBS Kids out of the blue. Its eccentric CEO had never been seen. The media brushed it aside; another quirky billionaire in Gotham. But Batman had a hunch that PBS kids' programming was about to take a distinctly *clownish* turn.
`` Are you ready?''
Batman jumped at the voice behind him. Turning mid-air, he landed 180 degrees from where he started, gloved hand gripping the feathery throat of... Big Bird?
`` Stttooop,'' Big Bird gurgled weakly.
Batman's hand dropped to his side.
`` I..uhhh..'' gravelly uncertainty filled the air. Big Bird's wheezing drowned it out.
`` I am so sorry.''
Big Bird waved away turtle-necked crew members who were rushing towards him.
`` Agghh!!'' The gasping cough coming from the 7 foot tall Muppet slowed gradually. Words began to take shape.
`` It's okay.... it's okay. I guess you're a little jumpy. Just remember - we're trying to show kids how NOT to bully.''
Big Bird chuckled. Batman grimaced as the giant feathered head turned stiffly to the crew on the other side of the stage.
`` Let's not waste time, I'm fine. Everyone - places.''
Batman's pulse picked up as his eyes darted around the stage. A garbage can was placed ten feet away from him. Yellow and orange limbs were moving in his peripheral vision. A young woman stepped through a stage door he had thought led nowhere.
Big Bird's giant beak pointed down, almost reproachfully. `` Oscar, Elmo, Ernie and Mrs. Martinez are in this scene. Sound okay?''
Batman tried to calm his senses, to ignore the adrenaline rush that usually indicated impending doom.
*Without firm evidence, I risk ruining the whole reason that I came here. I need to build trust with Gotham's families, not destroy the ounce or two of good will they have for me. Even if my gut is telling me that the only way to get out of here alive is to take down every Muppet I see. *
`` Okay???'' Big Bird's voice lilted upwards. His tone was loud, forced as he stepped closer to Batman.
Before he could take another step, he was halted by the sudden rise of a square, chiseled jaw as Batman met his gaze. Even the puppet's blank features seemed to recoil at the intimidating power of the dark eyes that focused in on him.
`` Okay. Ready.''
Music was playing. Batman's first stage direction was to sit at the bus stop with Mrs. Martinez. The young Hispanic woman playing her stepped gingerly across the stage. Each step slowed, as though she was trudging through deeper and deeper mud. Batman quickly realized that it was his approach that was deterring her.
Big Bird hissed something in the actress's ear as he walked off-stage. She whimpered, then scampered to the bench. Her eyes remained fixed on a spot on the floor.
Batman had paused when he first realized he was the source of her fear. Now he stood 15 feet away, uncertain. Big Bird waved him in urgently from off-stage. A camera zoomed in 12 inches from Batman's side.
`` Give me some space.'' He muttered, nudging the camera with one glove as he slowly approached the bench. He sat down carefully, leaving as much space as possible between he and the shaking actress to his left.
`` Lydia!!'' Big Bird was hissing from off-stage.
Her head whipped up, then lowered again. She tucked her hair to one side and hesitantly met turned to Batman.
`` Uhhh. h -- h -- -hi.. Batman.''
Her voice was shaking. Batman's mind spun - even he was not this terror-inducing. What had the Joker done to these people? And where was he now?
`` Hi, Mrs. Martinez.'' The scripted words flowed much more smoothly from his mouth now that he knew they were secondary to his mission. `` Hey, how are Bert and Ernie?''
The end of his second line sent the hands that had been resting in her lap into a frenzy of movement as she wrung one with the other. A pause stretched into silence. The only sound was the repetitive tapping of the fingers of her left hand gripping and releasing her right.
Big Bird was waving to the light booth. Darkness fell over the theater except for a spotlight on Lydia. Batman inhaled sharply at the sudden change, but he willed himself not to jump up. Sweat rose in beads on Lydia's forehead. She sighed and wiped it with her sleeve.
`` Edit point,'' she muttered, then looked up. `` Bert and Ernie? They're not so good.'' Her voice was louder now.
`` Oh no?'' Batman looked past her, scanning the ladder to the catwalk.
`` No, Batman. You see, they have feelings that they do n't understand. Feelings that the other boys at school are making fun of them for.''
He could see a figure scampering across the catwalk. Something poked out between the railings. A... tail?
*Really? A damn cat? Get it together, Wayne. *
`` You know what that's like, right Batman? Because... well, you loved someone you could never tell anyone else about, is n't that right? Your partner was more than just a partner, but you hid your love from everyone. Maybe you could help, Batman...''
`` I'd love to... wait..what?''
`` Yes!'' Dark curls bounced as she nodded. `` You can help Bert and Ernie because you know what it's like to be different. To be bullied for loving someone other people think you should n't.''
`` What... um...'' Batman stared blankly, heart racing for another reason now.
`` I bet I know someone who can help you tell your story. Do you mind if I bring him out?''
Batman's stomach turned violently.
*There's no way she found him. Why would he do this... and why here? It ca n't be, he swore he would never speak to me again... *
Lydia nodded at his blank stare excitedly. If threatening glares were normal for him, then maybe dumbfounded meant he was... happy?
`` Alright, I knew you'd want him to join you to tell the world. Robin - come on out!!''
-- -
*CC welcome! * | *Read more and subscribe at /r/GoldenGirlC5*
|
[ EU ] The narrator from The Stanley Parable narrates you reading and/or writing entries for this prompt .
|
This is a story from a man named... *going by* the name superstarcrasher. Super. Star. Crasher. Superstar. Crasher. Superstarcrasher. What a *silly name* to go by. He is doing this on the edge of his bed with his legs crossed trying to look important to himself and it is n't working.
Truth be told, he has n't done much writing these past few years even though he swore up and down he would be a professional writer by this age. He did everything: he read, sought advice, had all the proper tools, and even wrote. Now he's here on reddit submitting to a prompt that is n't like to go anywhere.
Tough going, Mr. Superstarcrasher. Tough going.
|
[ WP ] You 're the accountant for the biggest super villain in town , and the most recent evil plan is putting a strain on the budget . Try to talk him ( or her ) out of it .
|
`` Oh for fuck's sake Jim, not this shit again.''
I groaned as Jim, better known as the evil supervillain Professor J, attempted to convince me as to why his latest evil masterpiece was going to succeed and finally accomplish his goal of killing the Crimson Clothman. `` But it'll work this time! ``, he added, right after I pointed out that the last few grand evil schemes he had ended up as catastrophic failures, costing us millions for nothing.
One would think that a man capable of inventing a shrinking-ray would have some sense of fiscal responsibility, at least limiting himself to one evil master scheme every five months, as his company's budget would allow, but nay, this man decides that he must make another attempt on the Crimson Clothman's life every 3 weeks!
`` Look, Jim. I've been your accountant for many years. Have I ever failed you once?''
`` No?''
`` So heed my advice, instead of planning some grand dastardly scheme to kill the Crimson Clothman via a remote land-mine or some other bullshit like that, why not just take a gun and fucking shoot him in the face?''
`` No! The death of the Crimson Clothman must be his ultimate humiliation! He must tremble at the sight of me, his arch enemy and blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah, eggs! Blah blah blah-''
He rattled on and on, seeming to never run out of reasons to justify why wasting millions of dollars was better than a few hundred on a decent gun to simply shoot him in the head. After all, the Crimson Clothman was just a simple underpants-wearing vigilante, whose secret identity was already known to us years ago. You'd think that it'd be the easiest to hire some goon to waltz up to him as he was having his daily coffee and shoot him in the head!
But alas, I can not complain. I do make a couple hundred thousand off-the-books whenever he decides to plan another one of his ultimately unsuccessful schemes and it's quite frankly the easiest money I've ever made. You'd be surprised how easy it is to slip an extra few items on the shopping list of a man who you could entrust with a ten dollar note and later find out that he invested it on a grand total of two shitty rubber-ducks and a biscuit. It was a wonder that he even managed to succeed in his company's business ventures.
`` Business as usual then, I suppose?''
I interjected in the middle of his justification-speech, to which he nodded his head and smiled.
|
[ WP ] Dating a man while still in the closet is hard , especially when you two are in a trench , with wives waiting at home for when the war is over .
|
He asked you once if you had ever told your father.
β No, β you said.
You should have never told him, anyways. It β s just the answer you should have made. A mistake rectified. You recall your father β s disappointment, heavy and overwhelming, and then, β Your mother was always a weak woman. β Weak woman. Two girls and one boy that wanted to be a wife, he said. Shook his head and looked down. Weak woman, weak children.
You wanted to ask him where he played part in this, his seed.
β Father, β you said, instead, desperate.
Your father looked at you, then.
β My son, β he said, as if to test the title, and then wept violently.
-- -
Haruto tangles your fingers together, resting your wrists on the rifle between you two.
The air is frigid in the early of morning. You both offered to take these shifts because everyone else awake would be the most tired, the most unwilling. They wouldn β t notice Haruto β s hand on your knee, the nape of your neck, your own palm. They wouldn β t catch the fleeing kisses in the bleak, grey sunlight that trickled into the trench inch by inch.
It β s funny how this used to scare you more than anything. There could be a knife from the side or a bullet from above or a bomb anywhere and you β d be dead, but this was what used to frighten you the most in those early mornings: your hands, interlocked.
β *Ne*, Souma, β Haruto says. His eyelashes are dark triangles, and cut across the dark of his cheeks. You remember, very suddenly, the man he was when you first met him, the pale expanse of his skin foreign in the army. How his hands used to bleed every night, soft from studies, the only callouses he had earned from pen. His hands are hard, now, and only bleed when they β re cut or chapped badly as they are now. You wish you had some of the ginseng lotion your mother liked. β Souma. β
β Haruto, β you reply. His lips, cracking, quirk in a half-amused smile.
β Do you think we β ll get to see another dog-fight today? β
*I hope not, * you think, and say, β Maybe. β
β There hasn β t been one in a while, β he muses. His ears are red from the chill. β Sorry, β he adds, then. β I know you don β t like them. β
β It β s fine, β you say, β because you do. β
He smiles at you then again, the Haruto smile that had you pathetic for him in the first place, the sakura unfurling in the spring. His teeth are a little more yellow than they were before, and because of it he tries not to smile with them showing anymore. You like to see them.
β Souma, you *neijin*, β he says, teasing, but clearly pleased not by your sacrifice but by your willingness to do it, and, after looking in the right and left of the trench, leans his head against yours.
-- -
Your wife wanted to give you a son more than anything.
Every two nights, she came to you and you both performed. It was difficult for you, especially at first, but you both managed. Afterward, you would wipe the excess from her thighs with a damp cloth, and you would both return under your sheets.
Your father had married you to her in an act of desperation. Her dowry was a single cow, old and crusty-eyed, and half of their savings. Her parents looked at you with a certain anxiety and hatred, her father nervously folding his fingers over the blotchy birthmark on his hand, her mother gripping the cow β s rope with white knuckles.
β I will be a good wife, β she said to you, that day, when you were both stopped over a bridge over a pond of algae. β I will, Kinoshita-san. I will. β
You could tell she meant it.
β I will be a good husband, β you told her.
She couldn β t tell you didn β t.
-- -
Curses and rapid information and contradictions swim down the trench in a school of tongues, and bullet skip over their river. You can β t plug your ears because you might miss something, but when Haruto pulls the trigger, your ears ring. When you flinch, the idiot looks to you and whispers an apology that you don β t hear but can feel the urgency and heartbreak of. You just shake your head.
It becomes unbearably hot, at this time, fighting like this. Sweat sticks to your skin and then sticks to your undershirt and then to your jacket. The air grows musty with gunpowder and with cigarette smoke and with blood.
You might be dying.
When Haruto sees your expression, his own face darkens, and he sets his rifle down, and there are screams all around you, of pain and of exhilaration and of terror, and gunshots are ringing in your ears, and the world is a cold place, and he leans in and kisses you alive.
-- -
Once, as a child, you asked your mother, as she was making miso soup and cutting green onions, β What is happiness? β
It had been partially a whim, a single thought of substance among his hundreds of others useless ones, and partially because at the time she seemed very sad.
She smiled at you when you asked, and, as she always did, answered.
β Being here, with you, β she says.
-- -
β I wish we were *kamikaze*, β Haruto says.
You pause. The morning is late, today. The sky before it is a slow tangle of blues, pulling and pushing. It reflects how you feel, hearing him say that, as he breathes slowly over your knuckles. This is the man who has cursed the emperor and the war and god himself in his thrashing nightmares.
β Why? β you say, then.
β Because, β he said. His eyes watch over the clouds. There β s something fierce in them. That hunger. They all called him city boy when he first came. Him and his pale skin, him and his soft hands. Him and his education. They never saw what you did, the frightening edge of his appetite, gnawing away at him. His reckless feeding. Kisses and confessions and love. β We could die together. β
Like that, you sit for a long silence. You think of the junk planes fighting in the sky, the dog fights. You think of the feeling of the sky, burning around them. The collision. Stars and sparks and you and him burning up into the atmosphere. Gone, together.
And you look at him: the him that he hates, dark and coarse and not the man he was supposed to be. The man you love.
β I don β t want that, β you say, softly.
β Why? β he says, then.
β Because, β you say. You think of the equations you catch him writing into the dirt of the trenches, his eyes bright and shining when he β s drunk and laughing, the way he fucked you in bed, how he listens to you like only your mother ever did, the quiet support of his patience and humor and loyalty, his starvation, and his smile. β I want to live, together, with you. β
β It β s not enough, β he says. β We can β t -- β
β I know, β you say. β Haruto, do you know what happiness is? β
β What? β he asks.
You feel the tears come unbidden in your eyes. You blink and he catches one on his fingertip.
β Being here, with you, β you whisper.
He quiets, and then he leans into you in the way he always does, and like that, you both content yourselves, watching the future break into light above you, together.
|
[ WP ] New arrivals in eternal Hell may choose either of the following : a small wooden spoon , or a 100-trillion year vacation in Heaven .
|
The first thing that struck Larry was the clinical dΓ©cor. Everything in this room was white, the tables, chairs and the figure seated opposite him.
`` Hello Larry,'' said the figure, `` As the'Devil', I am obligated to tell you that this is Hell.''
Larry was still staring into the figure's eyes, he did n't know what to make of it. The figure on the other end sighed, and continued.
`` Under God's wishes, I am forced to offer you a choice - you may either spend a 100-trillion year vacation in Heaven, or you may receive...'' as he slapped a small object onto the table `` this small wooden spoon.''
Larry picked up the wooden spoon for a second, and examined it. It weighed around fifty or so grams; it was sturdy and elegant, and there was sufficient space to consume food or beverages. Tilting his head slightly, he asked the Devil
`` I do n't understand. What's so special about the spoon?''
A slash crossed the figure's brow. He replied
`` There is nothing special about this spoon. I will give you time to think about your choice, but I can not answer any other questions.''
Weighing up the alternatives in his head, Larry initially thought of choosing the route to heaven. Even though there would be an eternity of punishment to follow - surely a 100-trillion years would be more than enough to make up for it. But then he reasoned - 100-trillion years would be nothing in the face of eternity. A spoon may provide a little utility for eternity - his position would be better off by a minuscule amount permanently.
Thinking back to the actions he had taken in his own life - forgoing family, friends, and relationships just to make one extra dollar, to try and amass riches that Kings would be jealous of - all of it counted for nothing in the end. He was faced with an impossible choice that reflected his sins; temporary happiness, or a permanent gain that was essentially meaningless. After thinking for a few more moments; he reasoned that the pain of losing perfect happiness would far outweigh the benefits of picking a spoon.
`` I'll take the spoon,'' muttered Larry, while staring at the utensil in his palm.
The Devil sighed, squeezing his brow with his hands.
`` Larry. I'm sorry for what I have to do next. As the first mortal to ever pick the spoon on the first iteration; I think you are in the best position to understand the outcome of your choice.''
The Devil took out a piece of paper and drew a small graph. Thinking back to his days in University, Larry recognized it as a continuous probability function. His eyes widened slightly when he realized the seriousness of the situation.
`` Yes, Larry. You are correct; every time a mortal dies, or their vacation expires, they end up here, talking to me. They are always offered the same choice; Heaven or Spoon. However, over the course of eternity - mortals gravitate towards the Spoon - they want the only thing they can not have in Heaven; the forbidden choice.''
Larry's head slumped onto the table in despair. The gravity of his choice caused his heart to pound against his chest, he wanted to scream, but no words would come out.
`` You see Larry. This was n't all about the Mortals being punished. In the beginning; I tried to give your kind a choice. And now - this has become my punishment; to eternally offer Mortals the choice that will ultimately condemn them. There are a finite number of cells just like this one; not all of them are filled yet - but in the scope of eternity; every last will be occupied in the end.''
The figure started to slowly fade out of existence. Larry looked up just in time to see a tear roll down the figure's cheek.
`` And as for the spoon Larry? You may keep it.''
|
Last sentence : `` My dad shot her , and it was weird . ''
|
I grew up in a little county on the outskirts of New Hampshire. A cozy two bed room house and the surrounding 3 acres was my playground for many years. It was quite the drive to the town center so I spent most of my time playing in the woods. On many of these occasions I encountered what I thought was a gnome named Gertrude. She was a mere two feet tall and engrossed in curly hair that took up most of her mass. We would sit around for hours at a time and just stare at the sky, coming up with funny shapes, and telling each other stories. Gertrude's favorite tale by far was that of Martin The Unconquerable. He was an archer in the Caroline War, of course that's not what it was called back then, but he was there, and it was a war, and he took a battle axe to the gullet. This was just a mere scratch compared to the resume of wounds to come. He had a short endeavor with a bolt attached to his cornea, an evening star meeting his temple, and a spear with frenchmen in tow poking his jugular. It was not the best time to be a soldier but he managed. In the end Martin met a beauty damsel, ran off to the english country side and was never seen again. It was a cliche ridden story but I enjoyed it nonetheless.
When it got too dark out my mother would yell for me. I'd say goodbye to Gertrude, grab my sack, and run home. The typical dinner back then involved some form of lamb with spinach. My mother was a creative women but she lacked the patience to learn how to cook. It probably did n't help that her mother was trampled by a herd of sheep when she was a kid. It still haunted her to that day. In fact I think she enjoyed eating their young more than anything in the world. So scratch the previous comment mentioning the lack of patience, my mother was just on a quest for vengeance.
On one particular night I made the mistake of mentioning my little companion. My parents became livid, my father became red in the face, and my mother started crying. They were afraid I was insane. I spent the rest of the year constantly getting harassed by therapists trying to diagnose me with god knows what. They eventually settled on schizophrenia and let me be.
I still saw Gertrude however, the pills did n't erase her existence. We continued our usual shenanigans until one day things got a bit strange. Gertrude looked at me and said `` You know why I always tell you about Martin? It's not because the story has an happy ending or that it strikes wonder in your young mind. It merely just gives you hope, that's why. You humans never stop craving hope, strength, land, or lamb. Martin took an axe to the gullet because he overindulged and a bolt to the eye because he looked lustfully. A blow to the temple for thinking greedily and a spear to the jugular because of the French. Yet he kept his hope through all of that. He remained strong. The story ends with Martin happy but Martin did n't live happily. I ate him, and I ate his kids too, just like I'm going to eat you.''
I than realized Gertrude was actually a sheep and she was coming right at me. I screamed, ran, clawed my way out of the tree we were sitting in. My father came rushing towards the noise just in time to see a full grown lamb chasing me with a fork in its mouth. My dad shot her, and it was weird.
( Got lazy and hungry 1/3rd through story. I have n't written in years so bare with me )
|
[ TT ] You 're being stalked by a shameshifter
|
Friday drinks were the best part of Amanda's week; she hated most of the people in the office during work hours, but here - in the bar around the corner from work - everyone dropped the facade and cut loose on the booze.
She'd been flirting shamelessly with one of the new guys from sales and was thoroughly enjoying herself when someone started tugging at her elbow,
`` Amanda? Amanda Sorenson? Is that *you*?''
The voice was thick and awkward, but loud enough to be heard over the sounds of clinking glassware and music.
Turning, she let out an involuntary squeak at the sight before her.
`` Hey, it's Timothy Franklin, you remember me?''
Before her was a person who could only be described as *oblong*. Dressed in a ratty black band t-shirt that was probably a size too small, the man's acne-splotched face grinned around crooked teeth, his sweaty dewlaps shaking with excitement.
`` Jesus,'' managed Amanda, `` uh, hi Timothy?''
Ben from Sales regarded the rotund man talking to Amanda,
`` Who's your friend, Mandy?''
Timothy bounced forward,
`` Hey man! I'm Timothy - I was Amanda's first boyfriend!''
Face flushed scarlet, Amanda tucked her carefully styled blonde hair over her burning ears,
`` Uh, yeah. Tim and I were in a school club together.''
`` Best chess buddies EVER!'' roared Timothy - too loud - punching the air.
Laughter erupted from Amanda's workmates.
`` Oh man, such *good times*,'' babbled Timothy, `` I still have all the photos!''
Before she could stop him, the acne-splotched former classmate had a tablet out of his satchel and was pulling up pictures. There was Amanda, braces, glasses, overweight and unruly brown hair.
`` I... I need to leave,'' she said, grabbing her bag abruptly, heading for the door.
& nbsp;
She had n't smoked for months, but circumstances dictated this was an acceptable lapse. She ducked into the supermarket and made her way to the counter.
`` How can I help you, ma'am?''
`` Pack of Winfield, Special Filter.''
The young woman behind the counter did n't move, staring at Amanda.
`` Hey shit, Amanda?''
Stiffening, the blonde woman clutched her purse tighter,
`` It *is* you! I'm Kari Penrose, remember me?''
`` Oh shit,'' Amanda murmured.
`` Yeah, you remember me. You fucking stole my paper in seventh grade and claimed it was your own. I did n't have time to rewrite the thing and I flunked that class.''
Pale now, Amanda took a step back,
`` I'm sorry,'' she offered.
`` So now I work in a fucking *supermarket*,'' continued Kari, `` getting minimum wage.''
The uniformed woman glanced over Amanda's corporate attire,
`` But clearly *someone* is doing fucking well for herself, huh?''
`` Forget the cigarettes.''
Snatching up her purse, she clacked to the exit as fast as her heels would carry her.
& nbsp;
Safe at home, she wrapped herself in a huge, fluffy dressing gown and flipped on the TV.
What were the odds? Two old school friends in one evening?
She shook her head and picked up her mug of cocoa.
Netflix was n't offering up anything to satisfy her mood, so she pulled out her phone and started browsing facebook.
The'new message' icon showed.
Tapping it open, she was confronted by the face of her ex boyfriend, Charlie. Their tawdry relationship had ended when Amanda had cheated on him and he found out. Afterward, she found out she was pregnant with Charlie's baby and had a secret abortion.
She read the text of the message with horror.
`` I know about my baby'' it said, ominously, `` and now so does everyone in your friends list''.
With a whimper of horror, she quickly tapped out in reply,
`` Why?''
The bubbles popped up, indicating he was typing a response.
`` Because you deserve it. And people are going to keep finding out things about you until the day you die.''
A picture of her little brother's blue, lifeless face popped up - the brother who drowned on a family trip seventeen years ago, when Amanda was supposed to be watching him.
`` Be a shame if everyone found out about little Remmy.''
The phone dropped from her nerveless fingers and she paced out to her apartment balcony.
The drop was twelve stories.
Sliding over the chromed railing, Amanda hung by her fingertips for a few seconds, then fell.
|
[ WP ] Every year 10 people are placed on what 's known as `` The Kill List '' . They can be from anywhere around the world , and if you are found murdering them you are showered with wealth and fortune . If you are on the Kill List and survive the year , you are showered in wealth and fortune .
|
*Prologue*
-
Kitik Sip sat in his large chair, watching the larger HD monitor.
`` Our master, Kitik Sip, has given us grace, mercy, love, and freedom. He has guided us through wars, rebellions, and famine.'' A man said, standing on a large stage with thousands around him. `` The Kill List is our way to show our trust to our master. It is a way to show obedience and respect. Today, the names and location of the 10 individuals will be presented. The prize for surviving or killing is 15 To'Pons, a gracious amount, presented and donated by our generous master, Kitik Sip.''
The man on stage was handed a letter and a knife. He slowly unsealed the envolope and took out a small paper sheet.
The man, dressed in a fine suit, smiled at the crowd as he called off the names.
`` Seth Robertson. Taestan. Lower District 14.'' The crowd cheered with fake laughter and smiles. `` Might be hard to find the nigger, he'll be camouflaged with the shit piles''. More fake laughs from the audience.
`` Alright. Next! Aigou White. Varon. Upper District 1. Well that will be interesting! Let's see if how long it takes for the killers to get past the security!'' Laughter. Kitik smiled, it would be fun for him to watch the massacre.
The man ran through person after person, making jokes that received cheers from the crowd. Although Kitik was *actually* laughing the whole time.
The fat king stood up from his chair with the help of his slave-butler.
Seth sat, hiding in dead leaves with a small shank in his hand as he watches a large mob of armed killers look for him. They interrogated the other homeless that were sleeping in the trash piles of the rich, hoping to figure out where I was hiding. They used knifes to slowly torture the men, women, and even children to death. None of them knew where I was at.
People would do anything for money, anything to be able to afford a house and food, to prevent living like the homeless they were killing.
They were victims. We were victims. Everyone in this world are victims.
-- -
***More to come soon....***
|
[ WP ] Describe a rowdy night at the Bad Wolf Pub , the fairytale forest 's darkest watering hole
|
Taliber opened the door to the Bad Wolf Pub, where secrets and murder abound unchecked. It was foolish for him to enter alone, he knew but he proceeded anyways and took a seat at the bar. It was dark and musky inside. Smoke hung thick in the air. Suspicious men and women made illicit deals and dark promises. Many hid under hoods and false names. But Taliber was here to collect information. He needed to know if the rumors were true.
`` One mead, please.'' He put his coins on the table.
The music stopped and everyone looked at him. The bartender had a dirty white beard and only three teeth. He laughed an awful hacking and sputtering laugh.
`` You sure you're in the right place, son?''
Meanwhile, the music resumed and so did the foul conversations. The door opened and Brother Fraust walked in with his priests. Not much attention was paid to them until Fraust started preaching.
`` The Subversor will come and destroy you all! He has seen your treachery and will not spare you unless you turn from your ways and become a follower. The Order of Caligo is always accepting new members. I urge you to listen to my warnings. The Subversor has spoken to me directly. He has plans to come within the year. Prepare yourselves!''
A man in the back laughed loudly. He got off his stool and stood an inch away from Fraust's nose.
`` And I expect a smallish man like you's gon na make me, huh?'' Spit and small bits of food flew onto Fraust's face. He stepped back and wiped his face.
`` I understand that you would like a demonstration of The Subversor's power?'' And with a flourish, he pulled a glowing dagger out of his drab gray robes. `` This non-believer will suffer the fate of all who dare to oppose The Subversor!'' He shot the blade forward and pulled back slowly across the rough man's neck. The man dropped forward with a thump. With this, Brother Fraust turned his heel and walked out, his followers right behind him.
`` Crazy lot. Wants to bring death upon all of us,'' cried the bartender and ran to the back of the store.
So the rumors are true, Taliber decided. The Order of Caligo had plans to bring about The Subversor within a year. Taliber quickly drained his mug and ran outside to his horse. Dator had to know about this. Dator had taken care of Taliber ever since his parents had vanished deep into the forest. Rain started to fall as Taliber raced home.
|
[ WP ] Write the scariest description of a clown . Make it terrifying .
|
All clowns have a mask - that is, in most cases, their colorful makeup. Baggie did n't need his makeup. A giant of a man, Baggie had worked the circuit for nigh-on thirty-five years before he retired. The kids - oh, they were so amused by his humor, and, in fact, his shear size. Baggie enjoyed nothing much more than the laughter of the children as it rose to his ears, sweet music. There was only one sound that he indeed enjoyed more than their laughter.
It was their screams, and those - the high-pitched wailing of angels - raised his career to a celestial level. In his thirty-five years, his victims tended to be very young. The terror in their eyes, reflected in the cruel certainty of his near-red eyes, caused him joy to no end.
Today, Baggie is many faces. No, he no longer works as he once did. But if you see him on the side of the road, or perhaps walking out of a dark alley, you would first be struck by the shear youth of his face. A man almost 60 years old, yet almost childlike. Perhaps it was a stellar health program. But Baggie did have a secret. Baggie never liked to use his makeup around the children, because he knew it had a tendency to scare them off. Eventually, in his private sessions, he never wore makeup. Instead, with surgical precision that dictated the most sincerest and careful of face removals, he wore their faces.
|
[ WP ] Two men are standing near a ridge and start challenging each other 's beliefs .
|
I suck at dialogue, hence why I'm here doing this one, all comments welcome! Goddamn the reddit double line BS -.-
==================================
`` Beautiful is n't it?'' Vitari asked, not turning his back from the scene below
.
The approaching man behind Vitari continued his thoughtful pace as he too walked to the cliff edge. `` I find it terrible.''
Together they gazed towards a setting sun, the sky lit with orange and gold, lighting the bloody scene below in a peaceful glow.
`` Why so?'' Vitari asked. `` Why are you here if it is so terrible?''.
`` What sort of gods would desire to see their people murder each other? And I am here because I am Sanora, and those faint screams come from my daughter.''
The men were silent as the faintest whisper of a scream drifted up to them on their perch high above the city of Antalla. Below, people clustered around a square stepped pyramid. The priests at the top - and their sacrifice - were little more than blurred specks.
Another minute passed before Sanora spoke again. `` Why are *you* here?''.
Vitari sighed and clapsed his hands behind his back, clasping the cuffs of his heavy, pattern robes. `` I am here to witness the sacrifices as the gods do.'' Vitari drew a small circle with his foot in the dusty ground, not even a faint whisper of wind disturbed it, despite the height.
`` You believe the gods watch this?'' Sanora asked, folding his arms infront of him.
`` Of course''.
Another moment passed before Sanora pressed further, `` Why do you still believe?'' he asked.
`` Why would I not? The sun rises does it not? And the rains fall?'' Vitari turned now, his back mere inches from a certain death on the ragged rocks below, yet he still stood with arms crossed behind him and his expression unworried.
`` How can you be certain that the sun would refuse to rise, or the rains refuse to fall, if the gods were displeased?'' Sanora reasoned.
`` How can you know that they *wouldn't* refuse?'' Vitari answered, no hint of emotion applied to his words.
`` That's not an answer.'' Sanora replied flatly.
`` If you do not believe in the gods then why not save her?'' Vitari turned back to the dusty orange city far below and distant. The sun inched ever closer to the flat horizon.
`` I tried.'' Sanora replied quietly. In the silence Sanora's solitary tear made an auidble pat on the dust at his feet, which began to stir in a light breeze. `` Tell me, tell me why she died.'' Sanora pleaded, another tear forming as he spoke.
`` She died for the gods Sanora.''
`` No!'' Sanora almost shouted. Vitari did n't even flinch. `` She died for the *priests* and for their power!'' Sanora paced up and down just a few steps from the cliff edge. `` The gods are not real, the priests just cower us into submission. Why would the gods need *this*?'' Sanora thrust a hand towards the crowds in the distance.
`` If they do not exist, then who created this land for us?'' Vitari asked slowly. `` Why is it that for two moons there has been no wind. And yet here, today the current returns?'' Vitari turned his back to Sanora and looked out across the landscape.
Devoid of almost all life. A thin forest stretched around the city, and a single stream flowed through it. Further out, near the horizon, the forest stopped and there was nothing but bare, featureless rock. Sanora had to admit, it seemed an unlikely place for a life supporting city.
Sanora stared out at the horizon with no answer. `` Why, `` Sanora whispered. `` Why did they need her?''
`` Even gods need sustenance.'' Vitari replied simply. He knelt at the very edge of the cliff and pinched grains of fine, orange dust between his fingertips.
`` You think that's enough for me to believe?'' Sanora asked. A hint of anger showing. `` You think your cryptic answers should convince me that divine gods watch over us?''
`` Of course not Sanora.'' Vitari replied, standing now, still with his back to the other man. `` But if you do not believe in the gods, then what *do* you believe in?''.
Sanora was silent, finally Vitari continued, `` You believe that the sun has always risen and set with such beauty? Men have travelled for days in every direction, and yet this city is the only place with life and even as we speak the wind returns.''
Sanora snorted at that and stepped up to the cliff edge.
`` You do not think that this place is special?'' Vitari asked, taking in the landscape below and blinking dust from his eyes as it was stirred up.
`` The river is the reason for the life here. And as for the sun, it has risen and set far longer than you or I have been here to watch it.'' Sanora looked into the setting sun, it's rays lit his brown eyes with a deep, mahogany hue. `` Is that all you have to convince me? That the gods must exist because the sun moves?''.
`` No.'' Vitari replied. `` I have the wind too.''
Sanora opened his mouth to reply but he bit the words off as grains of fine dust began to obscure the city below.
`` You are a fool.'' Sanora finally said. `` You are a broken man, the priest's lies have dried you out.'' Sanora turned and walked three paces away before Vitari replied.
`` Who else did they sacrifice today Sanora?'' Vitari asked. Still not turning to face the man.
`` Neshalla.''
`` And who to?''
`` Axita. For rain.''
`` Do you think it's coincidence that the horizon has turned grey, Sanora?''
Sanora reluctantly turned towards the golden light of the setting sun, only to find it replaced. It's space on the horizon taken by a band of steel grey cloud.
`` Why are you really here?'' Sanora asked the back of Vitari's head.
`` To tell you to have hope. She lives with *us* now Sanora. Do not fear for her.''
Vitari let his hands relax behind him and spread them wide as he tipped towards the cliff edge. Sanora rushed forward and grasped at the man's loose robe but he caught nothing but air. Sanora knelt on the edge of the cliff, afraid to look down. After a moment he gained the courage and peered down into the jagged rocks hundreds of feet below and there he saw nothing. There was no corpse, no robe drapped over jagged lines of broken rock.
`` Ashalla. Look after her, please.'' Sanora sobbed into the abyss as the rains started to fall hard against the rocky ridge around him.
|
[ WP ] Write a letter to your ex .
|
Dear Lost but not Forgotten,
I hate you. I despise and loathe you. I hate the way you said my name, but I despise saying yours more. I hate that you scarred my brain with that stupid little grin. I hate how you crossed your arms so uniquely content; a way that no one else can even mimic. I hate how you felt the need to be a lifeboat during my suicidal tidal wave of depression. I wince in hatred at how you left me so soon. I hate how everything reminds me of you. I hate how everyone still talks about you as if we are still together. Everyone tells me to go see you, `` bring her flowers'' they say- like it β s so simple. They don β t get it. Because no matter how loudly I scream your name, the six feet of dirt and clay that separate us won β t stop mocking me. I kneel down on the grass sobbing over a slab of granite that reads your name. You are right under me, yet it feels like you are on another planet. I hate it. I hate you for making me fall so madly in love with everything you did. I hate you for making it impossible for me to feel anything but love for you. God damnit, why did you leave me?
Sincerely,
Lost and Trying to Forget
EDIT: Thank you so much for the gold, kind stranger.
|
[ WP ] You and your group of friends decide to become a group of heroes/villains in your local town .
|
`` I think we should be heroes.'' Luke took a bite into his apple, acting like he did n't care as he leaned on the half finished construction site. In truth, he stayed up all night thinking of how to convince his friends to be the good guys. `` The heroes always win in the movies.''
Stan shook his head. `` That's just some movie bullshit. That ai n't real life man. Besides, even if it was, that just means we'd be more badass for winning the town.''
`` Villains are proactive.'' Robby adjusted his glasses and looked up from his book. `` Heroes are *reactive*.''
`` Fuck does that mean?'' Stan asked. `` You may have to dumb it down for us, oh great one.''
Robby blew out a heavy breath through his nose and pushed his glasses higher again. `` It means villains do stuff. Heroes do n't do anything unless they have a villain to stop. So we ca n't even be heroes unless the town has villains.''
Stan nodded along with Robby's words. `` Yeah, yeah, makes sense.''
Luke hid a scowl. He did n't expect Robby to side with Stan. He usually sided with logic or reason. Maybe being villains was the logical thing.
`` Plus,'' Robby said, `` neither one will be fun without the other. What's a villain without a hero, and what's a hero without a villain?''
`` So, what are you gon na be?'' Stan asked.
`` Neither. I do n't wan na play.''
Luke kept in his relief. If they had to make a villain, he did n't want to play either.
`` What are you doing!'' Luke jumped up, dropping his apple, but not in time to stop Stan from hitting Robby with a cement block. Robby hunched over a bit, blood pouring from his unmoving head.
`` Now I'm the villain. You're the hero. You have to stop me before I do it again!'' Stan smiled in joy and ran off, leaving Luke with his dead friend.
|
[ IP ] A Tree Stands ...
|
*I looked at the tree and felt nothing. Perhaps I've seen and felt all it had to offer but now the memories are numb and the feeling is nulled. *
-- -- -- -- -
Her hands are beginning to sweat, but I do n't want to let go.
The crisp winter air encouraged us to hold close and I could n't have asked for a more perfect moment. We leaned against the tree in our woolen winter coats.
`` Your hands are so gross and sweaty'' I told her with a smile, her playful frown just begged for a kiss. We kissed against the tree all day.
-- -
`` It's been 2 weeks straight'' I told her, smiling.
`` I know, and it's gon na sound kinda gay, but I do n't want it to end'' She hugged me. We'd been coming here all spring to talk and smile.
I was the luckiest man alive, I thought, as we laid next to the tree all day.
-- -
So hot. So stupid. Everything about today sucks. This Summer started on the wrong foot.
She told me she's moving away after high school and the school year is about to end...
We leaned against the tree all day.
-- -
Fall... That's what this feels like, I'm falling.
This tree is the only thing I have left of her now. The shrubs are brown, the days are getting cold, I miss her so much.
I cried next to the tree all day.
-- -
It was cold again, I wore my woolen coat and sat down, looking at the sky.
*I looked at the tree and felt nothing. Perhaps I've seen and felt all it had to offer but now the memories are numb and the feeling is nulled. *
|
[ WP ] It has been 10 years since Pokemon Go was released , and also when your son was born . Today , your son , Ash Ketchum , is leaving to become a Pokemon master .
|
`` Dad,'' Ash said from the door, he'd been waiting there since I'd gotten up this morning. Before he was patient about going outside, he'd been listening outside the bedroom.
`` Ash,'' I said with a smile. The name was a joke but it did n't feel like it anymore, he was ready. He was going to go out there and make up for what his old man could n't quite do. Life had gotten in the way, being a gym leader did n't pay back then and the computer needed me to be working instead of planning. By the time it could be a job I was already too far behind, like figuring out you were in a race a mile in.
My son had a bonus, he had all the time in the world, and a twitch stream to keep track of him.
`` You think I'm good to go Dad?'' he asked.
`` Yeah,'' I said. He'd asked me a million times and I would have let him go two years ago if I'd been allowed, `` but you need a hat.''
`` I have one in my bag an-'' I stopped my son by walking over to the cabinet and cracking it open. Usually there was dust on something as unused as my hat, but I kept the thing immaculate. `` Dad?''
`` Original Valor,'' I said as I pulled it off of the shelf and tossed it to him. Ash dropped it and scrambled to get it onto his head. He needed that hat.
`` Dad.''
`` Do n't say anything else, you're gon na be late.'' I waved him off and he took a step out the door before doubling back for a hug. I held onto him for too long, he was going to do great, I knew it.
Ash took off down the street toward Carly's house. She'd never given up and was sending kids on their journeys now. I watched him until she'd welcomed him inside.
I flopped down on the couch and turned on his twitch stream. People were logging in, mostly family for now, he was starting. That being said, I knew he would become one of the greats.
I played with the app store on my phone, I had more time without a kid in the house. Maybe, just maybe I'd have time to catch a few.
Ash became a phenom overnight. He used the advanced battle system to take down a gym nearby that had been held for months. The whole neighborhood went Bananas, then the county when he struck down Tolimi2i88. The kid was doing great things.
As Ash moved though his journey, his legend grew. It took years but he was landing interviews on shows, being sponsored by Virgin for unlimited data and flights around the world for Geoexclusive pokemon.
In 2030 he was welcomed to the world championships. I did n't get to seem him compete.
In 2032 he was in the middle of nowhere. It was cold, almost a frozen wasteland a mile off of the nearest highway. There was a tattered Valor hat on his head, and a cameraman behind him. This gym had been standing for a while, but it was easy pickings for one of the Moltres wings.
`` Uh Ash,'' the cameraman said as the hero stopped and stared at his phone. The screen was blinking. There was a challenge. `` You're not gon na take it are you?''
`` This one's personal,'' Ahs said before turning his cap backward. `` We've got a league member here.''
`` I want my hat back,'' I said from the fence I was sitting on. I'd been playing with the app since he'd left. Early retirement helping him catch a couple gyms, one thing lead to another.
`` You're not getting it.''
`` We'll see,'' I said.
Ash hit accept.
|
[ IP ] The black dragon
|
Nates grip on reality begins to fade, his worlds laws broken by the endless pit of darkness, a long cobblestone walkway with parallel podiums with multiple dazzling lights held firmly inside their round encasing. He still ca n't remember how he got here, and it looks like an eternity to walk in either direction. He moves away from one of the reality orbs and examines the one across it, the name template below it is etched elegantly in some fine chicken scratch. He tries to pick up the orb and his vision warps around the azure orb, giving off a blue radiance and the smell of iron. He suddenly loses sight of the walkway and tumbles into an endless pit of darkness.
______________________________________________________________________________
β Graahahaβ¦ everything hurtsβ¦ is that light? β
`` Ah, made it at last it seems.fallen quite right into sir Gellumder β s weaved reality.''
`` Ahh... my head, do... you look familiar?''
`` Fallen on your head again it seems, do n't worry I'll walk you through this one, lighting the way with my free hand.''
`` Who - who are you? And weaved reality? β
`` Hmm.. you've also forgotten our introduction, ah and do watch your step.''
`` Gah! Wha- What are these!?''
`` Sir Gellumders'previous' beloved. Felt the urge to create her several times and utterly mutilated her.''
`` Wh-''
`` She had affairs with him and labeled her as he put it'a bitch.'''
β There are so many of these of her, and it β s kinda hard to ste- β
β Yes sir, just got to keep a good footing β
β Ow-hoho, my knee. β
β We β re almost at the end of the cave sire, but our introduction was quite brief like our walk inside the cavern β
β Yeah. - errgh - what's with the weaved reality thing you mentioned? β
β Ah, that's just it. You and I - and Gellumder, were chosen by the Nexus. Reality weavers was your term of what I described. β
β Andβ¦? β
β We β re able to morph our own reality into beings, if you remember the endless void at all that would be the chamber for all of the previous beings that made realities, and from their realities the Nexus chose more of your so called reality weavers. β
β Does that meanβ¦? β
β No, you can not change another reality weavers reality. Though that expression was quite remarkable. β
β Hey! β
β Ah, here's the opening to the main part of this cavern. β
β Whoaβ¦ How is this possible? This place is amazing, the water is glowing - no everything in the water is glowing a bit of cyan! β
β Not quite, the lilies in the lake produce some of the most light, and that strange glow in the bottom? β
β Ahuh? β
β Invisible Fungi. β
β Dang, and what's with the small yet tall island leading up from where we are? β
β That would be Gellumders Fiance. β
β AND WHO MIGHT YOU TWO BE? β
β Ah! My ears! β
β Hello Miss Gellumder. β
β THAT NAME IS NO LONGER A RELEVANCE TO ME HUMANS. β
β..But I thought you said Gellumder - β
β..Yes, but only the copies in her more human form. β
β I CAN HEAR YOU, YOU KNOW. AND WHAT WOULD YOU TWO WANT IN β HIS β PLANE? β
β Uhh.. β
β We wanted to exit his plane, but to do so we needed Gellumder himself to let us free. β
β THEN YOU SHALL SPEND ETERNITY IN HIS PLANE AS WELL MORTALS. β
β Is - was that Gellumder? β
β YES MORTAL, I β VE SLAIN GELLUMDER FOR HIS BETRAYAL TO ME. THRUSTING ARMS AT ME FOR BREAKING PROMISE. IT WAS HE WHO BROKE WORDS AND THREW ARMS. β
β Appears so Miss Gel- β
β NO LONGER. β
β... Dragon- β
β TOO AMBIGUOUS. β
β Well what are you called mistress? β
β I AM SIMPLY RHEA. β
β I β ve just noticed, she isn β t talking. β
β YES DIMMER MORTAL I AM SPEAKING TELEPATHICALLY TO YOU. β
β How do you propose we get out of here Rhea? β
β IF YOU WERE LIKE GELLUMDER, YOU MAY BE ABLE TO TOUCH THE REALITY ORB STILL HELD IN HIS HANDS. β
β Thats quite simpl- β
β HOW DARE I MAKE YOU GET OUT OF HERE SO EASILY WITHOUT A REWARD OF MY OWN? β
β Please- nice telepathic, dragon, don β t breath fire on us β
β AND WHAT DIMM MORTAL, SUCH AS YOURSELF HAVE TO OFFER TO AN ETERNAL DRAGON SUCH AS ME? β
β Uhh, we can.. We can do whatever you ask of us in this reality? - Ow - Okay, just me. β
β YES, THIS WOULD BE FITTING. YOU SEE GELLUMDER IS NOT ENTERALLY DEAD. β
β Umm. Yes he is. That's his skeleton. β
β THIS IS BUT AN ILLUSION, I AM CURRENTLY ENTRAPPING HIM SO HE WILL HAVE TO SPEND ETERNITY IN HIS OWN WORLD HE'S CREATED. -- ONLY ONE BLADE MAY KILL HIM, HIS OWN. -- HE β S CASTED IT WEST THROUGH THE CAVERN SOMEWHERE, IT SHOULD BE APPARENT IF IT IS THE BLADE. β
β Apparent? β
β YOUR LIKE HIM, YOU β LL FIGURE IT OUT. β
______________________________________________________________________________
|
[ WP ] An alien race has managed to get onto one of Earth 's website and understands English . That website is twitch.tv , and the aliens have prepared their first message on Earth .
|
It has been a difficult experience assimilating into life on the planet SOL-003.
On our first quest to gather nourishment, from a store known as a `` convenience'', we were repeatedly stopped and given the green pieces of paper that humanoids use as currency. One humanoid was particularly excited, requesting us to share the secrets of our `` realistic costume''.
In order to better understand the culture of the young humanoid generation, we have trawled through the darkest corners of the net of Inter. From the boards of the four chans to the submarines of the reddit, we have worked tirelessly to gather information in order to ensure our message is well received in the humanoid community.
We have recently discovered a community hub, a twitching television. Where the twitching originates from is, as of yet, unknown. We have surveyed the most repeated words in order to ascertain how we should phrase our announcement.
I have been given the honour of the initial contact. I flex my finger stalks.
`` *Wix1 Wix2 DAE ANYONE ELSE ACCEPT*'', I type, depressing the entrance key before freezing time with our capacitor in order to deliver the next message instantly. `` *Wix3 Wix4 OUR NEW ALIEN OVERLORDS? KAPPA*''
When the capacitor allows timeflow to resume again, the twitching television website erupts into chaos. Shots of the screen of our message are immediately uploaded to popular sites such as the google, the imager, and the hub of stimuli. Within minutes, the pound symbol # ALIENOVERLORDS begins trending in the tweeting bird sanctuary.
Our hivemind is pleased. Our work here has just begun.
|
[ WP ] After almost 1,000 years the population of a generation ship has lost the ability to understand most technology and now lives at a preindustrial level . Today the ship reaches its destination and the automated systems come back online .
|
I am the keeper of the blue flame.
When we were children, we heard the stories of the old times, when the air was thick and healthy, and our ancestors made food and machines from thin air. The dark screens were lit with words and images, and the halls of the world were loud with voices.
It is quiet now.
The keepers of the blue flame were powerful, and by their art they made the air thick, they lit the dark screens, they gave the voices in the hallway life. There were hundreds of keepers-even now you can see their names written in the book, with their titles and ranks laid out in the impeccable script of the gods.
But the blue flame died long ago. And I am the keeper of a darkness where light once was.
My mother died when I was born. The air is too thin for new mothers. My father died soon after he taught me the words and the motions-what screens to press, and in what order. He gave me the jacket, its threadbare yellow stripe a mirror to my father's eyes. His words came out choked between hacking coughs. The holiness of the temple had touched him, and his skin and hair flaked off, leaving a face that seemed smaller than my own. He was not afraid to die. But he was afraid for me.
The others fight in the halls of the world. My father told me they avoid the temple, deep within the world. They fear its holiness, can not understand the glory of death in service to the blue flame. But I do not leave this place. There is food enough, stacked bricks of sustenance left here by our ancestors.
And every day, I perform the ritual. I place my hands on the screens, move my fingers just so, ask great Computer for boons and favors, to `` adjust the phase beam variance,'' and to `` maintain the equilibrium of the warp field injectors.'' It has never replied.
Until today.
Upon my ritual, the screens flickered into life. Where before I tapped empty darkness, I now pressed buttons and rotated beautiful diagrams the likes of which I'd never seen. When I called to great Computer, she acknowledged me with her beautiful voice, and called forth a harmony. The hum of the world engine rumbled up into my chest.
And the blue flame roared back into life.
|
[ WP ] There is only 10 billion souls available for humanity . Everyone has one . The population reaches 10 billion . The next baby is born ...
|
I survived. I saw the birth of this demon. It was late at night when it came to our world.
I am a doctor, I make sure people give birth in a safe manner, but this time I could not guarantee any safety. It was common knowledge that there was only 10 million souls available. The current number was 9,999,999, this mother was going to be the last person to give birth till someone died.
The Baby began to come out and all was normal but a second baby came out, a twin but it was not the same as the other. The first baby looked normal with his little black hairs on his head and his blue eyes. The second baby was a ginger. The stories of ginger hair was all considered a myth but I saw it. The second baby eye's turned red, it grew to the height of a man in seconds and kept growing. It let out a fearsome roar that everyone man and women across the world heard. The monster with a flick of his wrist caused a large gust of wind blowing over many buildings. Injuring many but not killing for the monster wanted his power and strength.
I did what I had to. I grabbed a surgical knife and stabbed the mother in the head. The blood sprayed in my face but I kept carving out her face to make sure she died. She died alright and the monster had shrunk back into the form of a baby. His hair stayed ginger, I guess it was God's reminder to us.
|
[ WP ] You live in the not too distant future , where robotics and automation have eradicated nearly all working professions . You are a little-known expert in handiwork of bygone days . Suddenly , a catastrophic event wipes out the vast majority of electronics ...
|
`` Do electronics qualify to apply as God?'' Ruth thought a moment to himself, passing fancies along the display shelves screaming desperation of a hopeful sale. Streams of humbled ( as he liked to think ) people walked versus using the provided AI-powered transportation system. This day of the revolution anything without a subtle addition of technology immediately would be deemed unusable or catered to citizens upset with progress. Nothing was more utopian, more American than progress. Ruth was what many called a `` bygonist''. The slang term defined those with the past handiwork that fueled most county economies and that later led to the rise & fall of what was known as the middle class. A class inherited from long manipulation and evolution of slavery. Ruth came in as an electrician around the late 1990's, slowly investing most of his time responding to telephone calls and emergencies within businesses. At the dawn of augmented reality, he was without work. Forced to sit second to hordes of conscious-less animatronics crooked on being more `` reliable''. A year or two with a suppressing depression and invoking ambition, he sought work in the electric field of the `` city of tomorrow''. Powering roadways underground, establishing signals for robots to communicate amongst themselves, he seemed to be moving with the forward progression.
As the bird fluttered out of sight, a robot nearly caused a collision with the bystander. Ruth bruised his left cheek upon regaining his position upright.
`` No such thing as an etiquette when dealing with systems not programmed to sarcasm. Damned things.'' Ruth's temper spoke to himself.
A bell disrupted all encounters and situations taking place, causing anxiety in those who chose not to listen. A commotion erupted as everyone with a conscious mind scrambled to understand the situation. Normal LED lights flickered to a dim, entire buildings chimed `` computational error system rebooting, power to this machine has been disconnected''. Signs direct civilians to stay calm as backup generators take effect.
Thirty minutes went by as Ruth sat underground, musky body odor crept along the walls, alienated he felt as panic was being ingested from ordinary people. `` What sort of system did they install in yesterday's update?'' Ruth decided the time to be a bystander stood still, now was time for progress. Swiftly commandeering ( with polite regards to the owner ) a cellular object, most of which were, a head apparatus or handheld AI generator. Ruth chose the latter. Running far from his destination now as he just committed thievery, all in an attempts to make contact with those who know of a solution. Ruth had an idea as to why the system failed and a contact who had the credentials to insinuate a reprogramming.
The first attempt revealed no connection.
The second attempt only to compliment his failure.
Demanding another attention was n't going to fix the problem, yet being a part of the design team he surely should have some sort of ideology as to what needed to occur. Unfortunately for our commoner here, Ruth stood wearily along an overlook of the city. Escaped from the zone in which he was a criminal, he peered over the unlit, nonoperational houses and streets lay victim the horn overhead reminding everyone of the `` system error'' taking place.
Frantic now, Ruth examined over any bit of information he could look at on his newly acquired smart device. An AI explained in vivid detail the current power structure of the city, scalable models of the interior driving the town.
*beep beep new message from unknown contact* disrupted his viewing. Anxious as to whom it could be the message read, `` return this device or we will find you THEIF!!''
Back to the infrastructure of the city, Ruth had an idea, lets head to the generators myself and be a self-proclaimed hero of the new age. Fast as death Ruth set his eyes to the inner level of operating panel 20, the first motherboard of all this electricity. Breathe desperate for a break Ruth ran until it seemed his knees would bend to kiss the electric solar paneled sidewalk, exhaustion was creeping quick.
The sign overhead read, `` Room of Operations, authorized personnel only''. Ruth thought `` What is considered authorized?'' A chuckle reached its way from his throat as the horn blared to a stop. Was he simply late in perspective to proper a technician. Or was there no longer a need for old-fashioned traditions, such as heroes and villains. Ruth stood like a child in front a bear, motionless and scared. Scared he finally saw the thing we all seem to forget. Technology is n't for the normal man, or the man star-driven with the ambition to fulfill a life long position. Technology is for those who seek to deploy only a nation, indivisible by augmentation, one nation under circuits in the liberation of expanding reality to essentially phase out the weak. The regular embarrassment of past food workers sits crammed inside factories to produce relentless progress on electronics. Electronics who unwittingly became the God of men. Men who were once Gods. One who now sits on the ground, no horn overhead to fuel his adrenaline. Regrets fill his head faster than addicts to a hit. In what city of tomorrow does n't need the old days of handymen to repair the missed calculations of human forgetfulness. A sigh barreled from Ruth as he remembered, a world of tomorrow does n't require humans for long. Just the biology of humans.
|
[ WP ] Two people who can perfectly predict the future are locked in a battle to the death .
|
They both knew how this would end. That was the thing. They always knew. If either β s power went unattested, they would quickly become like a god. It β s those simple ways the universe balances itself, that there had to be two of them. With opposite goals. Though they had never met, and they lived in different parts of the world. Every move they ever made was working towards their inevitable conflict. With every step, they could only prepare for a fate that wouldn β t change. There were many things they could change, but the paradox of two with the same power, locked them in a specific path.
Aksel, spent his childhood playing harmless games with his powers. Little tricks on his parents and peers that inadvertently drew wary eyes from all who knew him. The strange events surrounding Askel pushed both his family and friends away from him. Something he was too foolish to look for in his visions. It wasn β t until he began to mature that a sense of duty overcame him. Others would shirk any sense of obligation to the world. A simple excuse of β What could I possibly do to change things? β was all that they needed. Askel knew this did not apply to him. He watched the world around him, he watched the pain and suffering people endured. Askel knew this was the reason for his power, to bring peace and ease suffering. He first attempted to help his neighborhood. Closing his eyes frequently to watch the future unfold, then shifting things ever so slightly to change its course. Simple things like walking a friend home prevented their death by a car accident. A small quip about yearly checkups helped a teacher discover her tumor in time. Eventually Askel realized this wasn β t enough. He realized he must use this gift to rise to power and bring peace to the whole world. Just as Askel made the first step towards this goal, he saw her for the first time. Suddenly the vision of his battle to come flashed before him. This woman would be his end. Askel could throw away his goals but he knew that wasting his duty would be handing her a world he did not want to see. This was his unchangeable destiny.
At the very same moment Marceline also knew what lay ahead of her. As if from thousands of miles away, they were looking directly at each other β s faces, Marceline grinned in anticipation. This was exactly the type of game she had hoped for. Unlike Askel, Marceline β s power had given her nothing but boredom. Chaos was the only answer she could find to quell this thirst for adventure and the idea of a perfect world with nothing to make the blood flow and the mind raceβ¦ it sounded like hell. Standing at the door of her orphanage she shouted out loud β I β m coming for you Askel, I won β t let you get your way. β
This was not a quick journey. They both knew it would be many years before they met, and so much work would be done before then. Askel would rise to power and become a global ambassador. Being dubbed the β guru of peace. β Askel gained favor with the world β s most influential people and steered them towards treaties and disarmaments. He quelled rising dictatorships before they took hold and he advised laws and economic revisions that he already knew the successful outcome of. Even with the leaps and bounds of progress across the world, hidden away in the shadows, disarray was constantly afoot in the form of Marceline. Though she never created scenarios that caused death, she frequently guided the foolish away from Askel β s influence. Posing as psychics and even creating a religion that she secretly controlled. Though she never revealed her true identity, Askel always knew it was her behind every mask.
After years of back and forth the world had been shaped into something completely new. A global peace organization with Askel at the helm had brought every country in the world out of poverty and war. The organization β s main goal at this point was hunting down a shadow society that caused global mischief. Their meeting time was growing close.
β Sir, I believe we β ve found their headquarters, we β ll be moving in today. β Askel β s second in command, Captain Red, told him.
β I will join you on this mission, please be wary not to hurt anyone unnecessarily. β Said Askel.
β Sir, that β s highly dangerous I don β t recommend it. β A concerned look was painted across the captain β s face.
Askel smiled and then replied cheekily β but this is my destiny. β The captain knew never to question Askel β s decisions.
The strike team advanced into an empty warehouse in Central America. They spread out searching every corner as Askel walked calmly forward towards a small office in the back of the building. He approached the door and knocked. A woman answered.
β Come in. β
Askel opened the door and closed it behind him.
β Please pull up a chair. β She said kindly.
Askel flipped on a light switch. Locked the door and sat down in a chair he placed in front of her.
β So this is how it ends. β He said flatly. Looking into Marceline β s eyes for the first time.
β Yup. β
Askel took out his phone and sent a text ordering his team to leave the building without him.
β Does it have to be this way, Marceline? β
Marceline frowned for a moment then regained her disposition and said. β We don β t belong here, you know it does. β
Askel sighed, looked down at his phone and saw the text confirming his team had evacuated.
β It β s time, just do it. β
Marceline looked deep into his eyes and said β When I was young I couldn β t understand why I would fall for you, but I think it β s your conviction that did it. β Before Askel could answer she pressed the button firmly gripped in her right hand and the explosions went off. The building crumbled to the ground.
When the search and rescue team arrived, there was no sign of either of them. Nothing except a small underground tunnel leading away from the building and out to the docks nearby.
`` Captain, do we report this?''
The captain remebered the promise he made with Askel years ago. It finally made sense.
`` No, our leader has died. That's all there is to it.''
|
[ WP ] A boy goes to hang himself in the woods , only to find a decaying body already hung . A girl sits quietly nearby .
|
The clouds hung alow; dank, dark and dreary, the grey wisp of one cloud evolving into another. It had been a long fall, colder than the previous years had been. Wind, its persistent petulance ever present, showed no signs of letting up. The boy was mindful of this, as he stood aback from the entrance of woods he had scouted out the previous week. It had been windy that day as well, when he marked the exact path he would take, finding a suitable tree. The boy tried to remember if he had noticed the wind that day in the woods, straining his mind.
He held the noose in both of his hands, feeling the coarse rope against the calluses in his palms. The boy tugged each end, ensuring the knots he had tied held straight and true. It β s amazing, he thought to himself and smiled, the things Youtube can teach a person. In a world where options seemed limitless one would always seem to ultimately choose the one that provided the easiest course of planning and setup. Initially the internet had provided way too many options and choices; he found himself overwhelmed with the possibilities. Ultimately, he found himself settling on the one that had the least amount of questions to answer; all he needed was a rope and some knots. It was simple, the way things should be; which was not the way things had been.
14 years. Well, 14 and Β½β¦roughly. The boy had heard stories, there were always stories: Harrowing stories of miraculous individuals facing trying times, individuals overcoming seemingly insurmountable odds, individuals staring in the face of adversityβ¦and pulling through. Living the great life, after nothing but tumult. He was not one of these people. There would be no stories of him, and he did not care. He was too tired to care. 14 yearsβ¦to him, it felt like 1400. No more, he thought to himself. He had come to peace with his choice.
The boy; ever still, each muscle as taught as noose he held in his hands, stood staring; ahead to the woods; to his fate; to his end. He drew in a breath, held it for a second. Was there this chill in the wind earlier? The boy released his breath, relaxing his muscles along with the noose that would become his last contact with this world, and slowly made his way into the woods.
The boy stood silently, not daring to move a muscle in fear of making a noise. He was at the spot, everything was as it was supposed to be. The wind had abated, and while the cold seemed to increase the closer he came to his spot, he didn β t mind it much. There was but one problem: the tree. The boy had found the perfect tree, and still it stoodβ¦but it was being used.
The boy noticed the body first and when he had, any question of whether the tree branch would support his weight was answered: the man was easily twice his weight, a denser weight, as the man couldn β t be much more than 3 inches taller than the boy. At first the boy had found himself startled, yet he had failed to make a sound: when you β re at your end, you find yourself checked out to the point where nothing matters to you, nothing seems important enough to react to.
It was not the body, however, that kept the boy still. It was her; he had noticed her almost immediately after he had noticed the dead one. At first, he couldn β t tell what she was; because the boy hadn β t anticipated any of this. Nothing was computing properly. She was sitting so still that at first, he had to discern that she was a person, and a living one at that. After a good thirty seconds of non-movement from both parties, he finally deduced she was a person. For one, she was sitting, albeit quietly, in a position that would be unsustainable for a dead person to maintain. Secondly, and this was important, she was not in the state of decay as was the figure in the tree.
The boy smirked to himself, wondering how long he had been as still as death as well. Would this girl, clad in redβ¦red riding hood in the woods, endeavor to stop him? Clearly, the sight of a dead body didn β t bother her, so what would be the matter with one more? She could look away as the noose parted him from this world for all he cared. He had made his decision, and he was damned if some red riding hood who could be no more than 10 would stop him. The boy stepped forward.
β Hello β the boy said as he approached the girl on her left, taking tentative steps. She failed to answer, failed to acknowledge his presence, failed to move. The boy began to second guess himself as to if she really was alive or not. β I β m Andrewβ¦ β he trailed off. Andrew wasn β t sure what else to say as he came within two feet of her, and stopped. His gaze trailed from her, to the body. β What β s your name? β he asked, not taking his eyes off of the decaying corpse. Andrew was no expert, but he figured the body must have been there awhile; long enough for the birds to begin removing organs, or for them to disappear to whatever may. Hadn β t he just been here a week ago?
Minutes passed with Andrew standing there, the girl failing to give off a trace of life. Andrew found himself growing tired of standing, and decided to sit down. He approached the log that the girl was sitting on, and judging the appropriate amount of personal space from her, sat down. Andrew found himself wondering that if he would have gotten a response from her if he had broached her personal space, but decided that it was irrelevant. He tried to change his approach.
β Soβ¦do you know who he was? β Andrew asked the girl, finding his eyes again upon the corpse. Anxiety, the anxiety he was so tired of facing, began to find him again.
β His name is Andrew. β The girl finally answered, not taking her eyes away from the corpse. Upon hearing his name, Andrew had to look away from the corpse, his anxiety reaching spiking at hearing his name come from the girl. When his gaze moved from dead Andrew upon her, he felt it lessen. She had a soothing voice, this girl who could be no more than 12, he judged.
β He found life overly complicated, and decided death was the simpler, obvious answer. β She continued, unprompted. β He figured he would finally find his peace, the peace that he so desperately thought he needed. Thisβ¦this rotting corpse, it β s skin picked at by birds, his innards opened and spilled out, to become one with the dirtβ¦that was his penultimate solution. β The girl stopped, finally looking down at the dirt, and drawing a circle with her finger. β While he didn β t fear facing death, he felt himself wondering what he would find in it. It never dawned on him that he was asking the wrong question: whether there would be anything at all after he chose his death. β She kicked dirt over the circle she had traced in her hand.
β There must be something. β Andrew muttered, himself looking at the dirt. He slowly realized that he wasn β t holding the noose any longer. Had he dropped it when he sat down next to the girl? Wherever it was, Andrew felt himself no longer concerned with it. He was enthralled with the girl now.
β That was the question he should have asked. β The girl said, as if he wasn β t there. β Can I know? Why should I? What right do I have? But if I had to guess, I would say that if there is something, something to find in death, why should it be peace? β Andrew began tugging at the collar of his shirt, his throat starting to feel tight. β Why would we assume that what faces us in death is anything different than we find in life? Death may be no more than a suspension of our current animation, an eternity repeating what life was. β
With that, the girl stopped talking, her eyes returning to the corpse. The pressure around Andrew β s neck began mounting again, as he felt himself beginning to have a type of out-of-body experience. Andrew closed his eyes, his arms reaching to relieve the mounting pressure on his neck. His arms did not move, and Andrew felt anxiety build within his entire body, until he grew rigid; Andrew could not move a muscle. He became confused, why the ground was suddenly so far beneath him, and why he could see the girl sitting on the log alone.
β It could be a mistake. Why take the risk? β The girl wondered aloud. The noose didn β t make a sound, as it dropped on the dirt the girl had drawn the circle with. Andrew felt his vision blurring, the wind picked up, and his legs began swinging. The girl stood from the log, and left, her legs springing with each step, until nothingness remained.
All that was left was anxiety.
|
[ IP ] `` The end '' by Christian Hopkins
|
I was alone with the silence and stillness of the morning.
I sat in the middle of a meadow under the thin branches of a young olive tree. The sky was drenched with golden morning light as a gentle fog rested on the amber field. I was at peace. My soul rested on placid waters, hovering without a ripple of thought.
Suddenly I saw a dark figure hovering through the haze. Its shadow swirled and clawed through the fog, which yielded to its movements. As it slowly approached the place where I sat, I saw that it wore a sweeping black cloak that masked its identity.
β Who are you? β I couldn β t see its face, but I could feel its eyes resting on me, sending ripples through my soul.
β I am the Gatekeeper? β Its voice scraped against the air and shattered the silence that gripped the meadow, despite being as soft as whisper.
I waited for a moment, mesmerized by its floating trails of torn black cloth. β Why are you here? β I could feel something inside of me growing. It burned and twisted like a flame.
β I am here because you are still here. It is time you made your decision. β
The Gatekeeper spun in a whirlwind of cloth and hovered next to the olive tree. β Look at the tree you sit under. This tree has never known fruit, and it will never wither. It has never known spring, and it will never know winter. β He swirled and glided back down to where I sat. Its head hovered inches from my own, yet it β s face was shrouded in darkness. β It has never known death, and it will never know life. β The Gatekeeper β s breath felt like an icy wind on my face, yet the burning sensation still grew within me.
I gazed out over the meadow in contemplation. Thoughts stirred within me and questions troubled my mind.
β You are no different, β the figure continued. β If you stay here, you will never feel or fade. You will always be and will never have been. β Its wooden hands lightly extended towards me in a morose yet welcoming gesture. β Unless you come with me. β I looked at his outstretched hand, but I could only think of the strange feeling burning inside of me.
β What you are feeling is fear. β The Gatekeeper said.
β Fearβ¦ β the boy muttered, gazing down at his hands. β Why do I feel fear? β
β Because what I offer you will bring pain and despair and death. β He gestured towards the tree, which began to shrink and wither before him. Its leaves fell to the ground as the sky began to grey. I gazed down at the ground where I sat in the shadow of the tree.
β But where there is shadow, there must also be light. β I looked up again and the tree was now blossoming with white flowers and thick full olives. The sky burned with the light of the sun bursting through the fog. β You will also know joy and love and life. β
I could feel my mind wrestling with realization, as if awakening from a long slumber. I began to rememberβ¦the Gatekeeper had been here before. Each time I had rejected his offer and each time he had faded from my memory like a dream.
β You can feel it now. Memory. Reality. Mortality. You can feel it now, can β t you? β
β Yes, butβ¦I β m afraid. I have always been afraid. β
The gatekeeper let out a soft laugh that echoed across the meadow. β Where there is fear, there must also be faith. You are ready, take my hand. β
Despite the fear weighing on my chest, I took the Gatekeeper β s hand and we drifted off into the amber fog. I looked back and the meadow began to shrink into obscurity as the sky faded to black. We slipped into the heavy darkness ahead of us and I could feel the Gatekeepers presence slipping away.
I was alone with the silence and stillness of the night.
|
[ WP ] A group of time cops and space cops corner the same criminal . An argument about time-space jurisdiction ensues .
|
`` You've been messing with the timeline too mu --''
`` Hey wait a minute, this guy's on a station orbiting Mars. This is our jurisdiction.''
`` No way. He traveled through time from the year 2082 to get here.''
`` Seeing as the current year is 2087, I'm fairly certain his `` time travel'' is just because he stole a ship at Alpha Centauri.''
`` Well you know what, you fucking Spacer, how about you just shut up and let me do my job!''
`` MY JOB! You bastards at the TPD are all the same, spoiled brats thinking everytime someone trips over a gravity well it's *your* case.''
`` Oh shit man, he's getting away!''
By this point the criminal had already stolen the TPD's Police Box.
`` Aha! That's *our* time machine, Spacer. The case is ours.''
`` Not so fast. Our trackers report that your Police Box just now rematerized at Mercury.''
`` You'd only *know* that right *now* if he had traveled backwards in time by around eight minutes!''
`` Technicality! It's your fault for setting the default space mode to Relativity Ignorance! That's cheating and you know it.''
`` Listen, it's a moot point now. He's got my Police Box. He's stolen from Temporal Police Department property, making us the victims. It's your case, alright?''
`` Alright. Let's get to my ship.''
|
[ WP ] `` He was alone in his house ... . ''
|
He was alone in his house. How did I know? Well I had been watching for 4 hours. Well, it isn β t really that bad besides the cold. The mountains are beautiful at night this time of year anyways. I knew he was home because I knew almost everything about this man, James. After a while it gets easier to track someone. It comes all natural to you after a while. The secluded rural areas make it even easier, especially during the winter. I got so good at this that I began to meet them. Learn about them in a deeper way.
*Who is them? *
My targets.
|
[ WP ] You arrive at heaven expecting all your divine questions to be answered , only to discover that no one there has any clue about God either .
|
`` Hey, where's God?'' I asked St. Peter, who was at the gate, slowly allowing people into heaven. There were millions of people in that line, and despite how quick he was doing it, it still took me weeks to get to the front of that line. Peter continued to stamp passes for people as he pointed to the mansion at the top of a golden stairway on the clouds.
I walked towards the mansion, and once again, there was a line with millions of people in it. It did n't appear to be moving, so I went to the back and asked a guy who was there.
`` Hey, why is the line so long?'' The guy I asked just rolled his eyes.
`` Because, everyone wants God to answer their questions, but no one has entered for weeks.'' I thanked the guy and walked off. Going round the back of the mansion, I noticed there was an open window, so I climbed up the windows and got in.
`` FOR FUCK SAKE!'' In the seat at the desk was an old man with a long white beard and long white hair, but looking relatively fit and healthy. I got scared and backed off.
`` Are you God?'' I trembled in awe.
`` Of course I'm God.'' I can now hear the banging on the door of people waiting.
`` Why are n't you letting people in, there are millions out there?'' God looked at me angrily.
`` I'm tired at shit. I have to answer everyone's questions, and they are all the same, but all the answers have to be different, just so I do n't piss them off.'' God looked exhausted.
`` What do you mean?''
`` Every question is the same. Why am I alive? What happened to some fucker I knew? And the worst of all, what is the meaning of life? Do you want to know what the meaning of life is?''
`` Yeah, I do.''
`` Of course you do, because everyone asks that. And I ca n't say the real reason, so I have to some stuff like'To love me','To love one another','To help each other','To have fun'. The real reason of life? To fucking amuse me. The only reason I made the universe was because I was practicing, but all of you wanted shit, so instead of making newer, interesting worlds, I have to deal with you.''
`` That's depressing.'' I barely made a sound. God just looked at me.
`` Heaven's kind of shit, I ca n't let you do drugs, or smoke, or drink, or watch films, or have sex. Do you want to just go back to Earth, new person, new life?''
`` Yeah, if you can.'' God laughed.
`` Do n't waste your time with religion, just have fun within the law and you might get into hell.''
`` Bye.'' God smiled and clicked his fingers.
|
[ WP ] Two strangers meet on a train . After one conversation , they know they 're meant for each other .
|
*Damn, it's her again. How many times have I seen her in the subway? I ca n't even tear my eyes away from her. *
***
*It's him again... How do I keep bumping into him? He's looking my way, has he noticed I'm staring? Quick, read the book! *
***
*Shit, I think she noticed my staring. Arrghh, I'm looking like a creep! Her book... Terry Pratchett's Mort? Hey, Death's my favourite character! Okay John, you can do this. There's an empty seat next to her. Stand up, damn legs! Go start the conversation! *
***
*Am I safe? *
`` Hey, is that Mort you're reading?''
*Wha- what?? It's him! He's sitting right beside me! He's looking into my eyes! Quick Sam, say something! *
`` Erm yeah, have you read it before? I like the Discworld series.''
*Sam why did you tell him that! He probably does n't even know Pratchett! He's going to think you're a nerd! *
***
*Oh my god her eyes and her voice and her lips are so beautiful. Shit, John! Stop staring at her, speak! *
`` Cool, I've read quite a few Discworld novels too. Death's quite cool, is n't he?''
*John you're sounding like a nerd, hot girls do n't like nerds! Why am I screwing this up?! *
***
*He's read Prachett too? How- how do I continue the conversation? *
`` Well, I read Hogfather and Death was pretty interesting, So i decided to read his series.''
*Yes, that's it Sam! Talk about the book, and stop staring at him! What if he thinks you're hitting on him? *
***
*Now's my chance to strike something up! But will she think I'm hitting on her? But I am! But she ca n't know that! *
`` Well after you finish that, do you want to read the sequel? It's called Reaper Man and I can lend it to you! If- if you'd want.''
*please say yes please say yes please say yes*
***
*oh my god YES! *
`` Yes! I mean, if you do n't mind. I'd love to read it.''
*Oh wait I need to give him my number! Should I? What if I'm being too pushy? Screw it, I've come this far! *
`` Here's my number. I'll text you when I finish Mort!''
`` But what do I save your contact as?''
*Shit Sam so stupid you did n't introduce yourself! *
`` I'm Samantha. But you can call me Sam!''
***
*Samantha? Her name's as beautiful as her! Unlike John. *
`` I'm John, but you can call me... John. Oh, my stop's here. Nice meeting you!''
*I ca n't believe I just did that. *
***
*I ca n't believe I just did that. *
|
[ WP ] As < name > enters Hell the first thing s/he hears is the sound of a 56k modem dialing ...
|
Tracey appeared in a dark expanse, dropped from the blinding light above him and left behind while the light quickly closed. He tried to stand, but was disoriented and stumbled on nothing in particular. Seconds later, several different beeping tones echoed around the colorless expanse, quickly turning into horrible dial-up internet noises. The incredibly loud and poorly composed screeches of the crappy 56k modem combined with the irritating static every few seconds seemed to reverberate in Tracey's ears, amplifying itself each time it rattled around his ear canal until it was over.
`` **Welcome to Netscape**'' suddenly flashed before Tracey's eyes, almost as blinding as the light he was deposited from. It took a few moments for him to adjust. A picture seemed to be loading, but it did so slowly and he figured it would take several minutes to completely show itself. He looked beneath the large *Welcome to Netscape* heading and started reading. `` You have just embarked on a journey across Hell, and Netscape is your vehicle. This welcome page will help you get started on your use of Netscape and your exploration of the Hell.''
After having used Firefox for so long in his life, Tracey never thought he would encounter Netscape Navigator. It hurt his eyes just to look at the boxy, grey excuses for button elements. He thought about opening a hyperlink before realizing he had no mouse or keyboard. Amazingly, it worked anyway. `` **Congratulations! ** You have successfully followed a hyperlink. Click on this hyperlink to return to the welcome page.''
Next, Tracey thought of closing Netscape- it closed, revealing the blue computer desktop. Among the `` My Computer,'' `` Recycle Bin'', and `` Setup MSN Internet Access'' icons was `` Microsoft **Windows** *Me*'' on the top right. He beheld the tormenting sight, first raising up his arms in agony, then to his face in despair. Hell sure knows how to run buggy, deprecated software- and Tracey would be running it for the rest of eternity.
|
[ WP ] The Narrator of your story really does n't want to be there .
|
Blue eyes framed with shaggy black hair, blinking the light out of his eyes as he wakes up, moaning about how early it is as he reaches across the bed, grabbing at his boyfriends waist, pulling him over and kissing his cheek with a..
Wait. Really? Are we doing this cuddly morning crap? Whatever, I'm just the narrator right?
Yadda, yadda, with a stupid look on his face. he rolls out of bed, falling to the floor because he is an idiot who ca n't use his feet- what? what's the problem? Do you want this done or not?
Right so, here we are, getting breakfast, and the.. phone rings? Jesus H.. So we answer the phone, and our heart stops, our throat goes dry as we hear our Mom crying, and we are.. confused? The best you can fuckin' do is confused?? If my mother rang me fuckin' crying, I'd be scared someone was.. Whatever, I'm not an author. I hate this job anyway.
Here we go, mom is crying, she's got that whole, sob and speak spiel going on. And we can just make out through the sobs, that our brother was killed last night by- You have got to be.. You are killing me here! Drunk driver?? DRUNK DRIVER! DO you have an IMAGINATION?! Goddamn.
So now we are crying, of course. Our boyfriend is coming downstairs and he's seen us leave the house. reader, I will never know why we are in our pajama pants, so do n't ask. We are belting down the street at full pace, tears blurring our eyes, chest tight and heavy with emotion, feet cold in the morning frost as we try to get away from this, convinced it's a nightmare.
You know what. Take your shitty story, I'm leaving. No, I do n't fucking care man! Find another damn narrator. The story is shit and- No! Jeeeeeesus kid, look. I. Do. Not. Want. This. Job. Yeah go on, complain to my manager, I do n't care. I'm out of here, kid.
|
[ WP ] `` Let 's not do that again . ''
|
Kent fell onto his back, his body suddenly overcome by the weight of his armor as the adrenaline faded. His green eyes stared unfocused up at the clouds above, the sweat on his face cooling and drying out his pale skin. All he could hear was his own heartbeat within his chest.
*''... nt...'' *
A bird flew overhead and landed in a nearby tree. Pine. Funny how it was only after narrowly escaping death that he took in his surroundings in such a way. He had barely even noticed the lone tree's existence prior.
``....ke....''
The bird- a swallow, Kent thought, maybe- hopped along the branch to its nest where three little heads poked above the brim of the twigs and leaves. As far as he was, and as impossible as it was, he could have sworn the bird smiled seeing its family was safe. He smiled at the thought dreamily.
`` Kent!''
Kent snapped out as the sounds of the world returned. Cador stood above him, tan face contorted in a worried expression- a rather ugly one at that. Certainly not the first face he would desire after a brush with death. Brown eyes, black hair, and a man to boot. Kent rolled forward, pushing Cador away as he slowly brought himself to his feet. Cador moved to help him up, hooking a hand under his plate mail's shoulder, but Kent twisted and pushed him off again, the unusual motion toppling him over onto his side with a low groan. This time, Kent was left alone as he got his feet beneath him, glaring at Cador the entire time.
`` I'm fine, Cador. Not that you had a hand in that.'' Kent reached down and swiped his sword from the grass beside him, wiping off some remaining gore and foliage with his cloak as he spoke. As always, there was far too much for a simple cleaning. He sighed- growled- to himself as he tossed the weapon towards his servant, who jumped backwards in surprise as the weapon sailed past and landed not two feet from where it originally lay. `` Well, pick it up! It'll rust if you let it lie there any longer. Seriously, you'd think after the past year you'd have learned *something* about being a man servant.''
Cador glared at Kent, making no attempt to hide his irritation. `` You threw it at me with a bare blade! I could have lost a hand!''
`` And you'd be no less as skilled a man servant for it.'' Kent turned away as he spoke, scanning the fields for his horse. `` Where did that damn girl get off to.''
`` Honestly she has the right idea.'' Cador bent to pick up the weapon, wrapping its blade in cloth to be carried until he can clean it properly. `` No beast in its right mind would stick around you for too long.''
`` Careful, Cador.'' Kent whistled quickly, hoping his horse was close enough to hear. `` Remember what happened the last time your attitude got the best of you.''
`` You do n't even own a pair of manacles anymore, Kent.''
`` I can find some.'' Kent whistled again as the horse came into view over a hill. `` Anyway, be a good lad and fetch me the gryphon's head so you can mount it to my horse.''
`` Yes, mi'lord.'' Cador did n't even attempt at masking his mockery. He drew the knife and stepped over towards the fallen beast.
`` Ahem.''
Cador turned towards Kent, who motioned towards the straps of his armor. `` You *just* told me to fetch the gryphon's head.''
`` I figured you'd know it could wait until after I'm out of my armor.'' Kent grinned as Cador passed by him. A few moments later, Cador finished undoing the armor's rigging and Kent began changing out of his dirtied tunic and into a clean one for his triumphant return to the village. `` Hurry it up, now; I'd like to return before night fall.''
`` Yes, mi'lord.'' Cador did n't even look up as he answered, focusing entirely on cutting through the beast's neck.
-- -
The head fastened tightly to his steed, Kent mounted the saddle and settled himself for the journey back to town. Cador stood beside him, rucksack on his shoulders causing him to sway as he strained to remain upright. Cador thought for a moment of bringing up their need for saddle bags again, but he knew what Kent's response would be and decided he had quite enough to worry about with the trek home without incurring any more of his ire.
Cador scanned the field, his legs aching from the memory of his sprint after Kent's horse during the battle earlier that day, `` Let's not do that again. Seriously this time. It's hard enough keeping up with you at a slow trot, chasing you around as you hunt a gryphon is damn near impossible on foot.''
`` We do what we must for the people of this land, Cador.'' Kent smirked, staring at the slowly setting sun. `` If there's a gryphon threatening their farms, we are duty bound to slay it.''
`` *You* are duty bound, Kent.'' Cador adjust the straps. `` You're the Chosen, not me.''
`` You chose to serve me.''
`` I thought you were a good person.''
Kent's face fell somber, but he left the conversation to fall into silence. A moment later, he spurred his horse forward, followed by a groaning servant.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Sorry, my first attempt. Been a while since I've written, so definitely rusty.
|
[ WP ] You have no mouth , and you must tell Dale ...
|
It's a dream, I tell myself.
That's all it is.
It's the same thing over and over again, every night. When I close my eyes, I see him standing alone against the cold metal bridge. He looks like a dark silhouette, a shadow. I see his face and his tears and his pain. He looks at me... and smiles. I try to plead with him to not go, to tell him that I love him, that I need him, but I have no mouth. That's the worst part. I ca n't tell him the words he needs to hear. The words that will save his life.
I lurch forward to grab him and now we're falling. The wind rushes past me and he's cold and the water is so deep and black and I'm drowning --
I open my eyes and sob. I'm here, but Dale is still gone.
|
[ WP ] Special Ops from the U.S , Russia and China all infiltrate a North Korea Nuclear Silo at the same time . Before any of them can begin their sabotage mission , they bump into each other .
|
I have successfully infiltrated the North Korean Silo. After I got a guard disguise, I realized I still could n't get past the guarded entrance to the laptop with all the information on the Russian connection. Fuckin' Russians, always making connections. As soon as I find an exit outta these vents, I'll be well on my way to finding the laptop, then I'll be set, and those damn Ruskis will be done for. Wait... I hear somethin' below me, sounds like two men.
`` Nah, you ca n't microwave that man...''
Fuck! A Russian accent! Those damn commies got'ere before me! How could they beat me here? Wait! They're still talkin'...
`` What? You're really going to be one of those guys? C'mon, in our line of work I do n't think radiation from literal microwaves is our biggest worry.''
What is this? A Chinese accent? Am I surrounded by commies!? This situation has just taken quite the escalation in difficulty...
`` Man, that's plastic, and one of the most basic facts about microwaving; do n't microwave plastic. It's like microwave rule number two.''
`` What? This plastic is totally microwavable, it has the little symbol on the top. Wait, whats rule number one?''
`` Are you serious? Metal, if you microwave metal it will explode the goddamn microwave! Wait, do you hear that...?''
Ah shit, I think that I might'a been heard here fellas... Well... I have come to quite the tactical challenge now it seems like. I do not think that vents are as stealthy in practice as I believe they are in theory, I might'a caused a bit of a ruckus up in'ere... However, I think I know the solution to this situation... Time to grab a hold of my trusty American made 1911...
`` SURPRISE ATTACK!''
...
Before I knew it, I was tied up on the floor of what looked like a break room, with a rather intense headache. In front of my I spied a Chinese man what seemed to be the owner of the rather intense Russian voice earlier. I believe I have identified the men responsible for my predicament.
`` Ah shit boys, it looks to be the case that you have indeed somehow confounded my surprise attack, I have to say, impressive. Not many living men can boast witness to my famous,'Hot Michigan Marksman Evasive Ambush'. Dare I ask, how you two have foiled me so?''
The two men looked very confused, then the Russian piped up.
`` You screamed,'Surprise Attack!' and then burst out of the vent in a diving motion while firing into the ground repeatedly, and then hit the ground headfirst and knocked yourself out. Is that a typical American tactic?''
`` It works more than you would think. A surprising amount of Communists hangout under vents, it may be because their cold, dead, Communist hearts desire a draft.''
The Chinese man seemed especially upset by the Hot Michigan Marksman Evasive Ambush.
`` Fantastic! Just fantastic! The American Pig probably just blew the whole operation and attracted every guard in the building! We better work to get this laptop fast, c'mon Dmitri, leave the capitalist to get castrated by the Koreans, stopping your informant buddy is our highest priority, and this man is clearly an amateur of espionage. He'll just hold us back.''
`` Wait! You guys are lookin' for the laptop to? Lem me join ya, we're co-conspirators'ere boys, and we got better odds with more clearly experienced men such as ourselves workin' together. Besides I would say I have a fancy for avoiding castration''
`` He has a point Bo, he could help, and he might give us up if the Koreans get him. We're close to it already anyway, if we're quick we'll be fine.''
`` Ok, but I do n't like this...''
These men of untrustworthy Communist background untied me, little did they know this was all a part of my master plan to not be castrated by Koreans. Actually, they are quite definitely aware of my master plan now that I give it some thought. However, as soon as they untied me, I spotted someone opening the door, and knew I had to act fast!
`` DROP IT MISSILE BUILDIN' SCUM!''
I then shot the missile buildin' scum in the chest, dropping'im to the floor in two seconds flat.
`` And that my friends is what they call the Spicy Tallahassee Quick Draw!''
Neither of them seemed particularly happy with my second act of heroism. This fella Bo went to inspect the corpse, do n't know what he was thinkin' would find, but he found somethin'.
`` You just murdered an IT guy.''
`` Drastic times call for drastic... Uh, well they certainly call for drastic somethin', and in this case the drastic times called for about 5 bullets to the chest.''
`` Wait, he was holding a laptop, see if you can get in it! It's a Dell, it could be the one we're looking for.''
`` Ah, smart Dmitri, Dell is well known for their collaboration with dirty Communists.''
Bo got to work on the laptop, he looked like he knew his stuff.
`` I'm in, it did n't even have a password. I feel like that should be one of the most required things in a Missile Silo, but whatever... This is it! This is the laptop!''
`` Ah, sounds like a days' work is done boys, lets get outta'ere before guards bum rush us. Sounds like they're all comin' down the hallway right about now actually. That makes sense, considering I have fired almost all the bullets out of my 1911 in about 10 minutes.''
Dmitri and Bo seemed much more worried about these guards then I was. Dmitri piped up.
`` Jesus Christ, how are we going to get out of here?! We're going to be surrounded in minutes!''
`` Aha, I take you boys have not heard of the famous American tactic the Mysterious Maine Two-Shooty Root and Tooty Mixaround then?''
|
[ CW ] Write a mΓΆbius strip structured story that repeats after two complete loops round the text , instead of one . As in , it takes two complete reads of the text to read the whole story .
|
`` When are we going to leave this dammed land?''
The Father looked at his son in shock. `` Our family has farmed this here land for hundreds of years. We farmed through the Civil War, we farmed through the Great Depression, and we'll keep farming till the grain picks itself,'' the Father said, although he knew he had said the same things when he was younger.
Years later, the son brought his own son to the father's funeral. It was a solemn affair, and the old-timers were quick to point out that all of the family's funerals were more or less the same. The same songs were sung, the same prayers said, even the same clothes worn, it seemed. The grandson of the man being buried said,
( EDIT: fixed a word )
|
A depressed man 's girlfriend who 's been with and supported him for 5 years is now leaving him . Moments after she leaves she hears a gunshot come from inside his apartment . Write what happens afterwards .
|
`` Oh god no!'' Jessica screamed, as she turned away from the open elevator door. Now, running back down the hall towards Ethan's apartment, she could do nothing but assume the worst. Her reaction was so instinctive that she neglected to close her purse - its contents spilling all over the floor as she got to the apartment door.
She grabbed the doorknob and twisted; luckily Ethan had n't locked it yet. Jessica burst into the apartment and right into the living room. No sign of anyone. `` Ethan?! Ethan, no!'' Thinking quickly, she ran into his bedroom. Sitting on the bed was Ethan, in his hand was a 9mm Beretta.
`` What are you doing? Are you hit? Just put the gun down... you do n't have to kill yourself.''
`` Oh, I was n't going to kill myself... not yet at least,'' Ethan said. He seemed very calm, almost too calm. He was n't crying anymore as he had been several minutes ago when Jessica had walked out the door.
`` Then why did you fire off the gun? You know the neighbors are going to call the police.''
`` I know you still care for me, that is why you came back. That's why I fired off that shot, it was a test, and you passed.'' Ethan smiled widely at her, `` You're so predictable.''
`` Of course I came back, I thought you did something awful! You really scared me, but I ca n't stay here with you anymore if you keep refusing to get help. Now, please just put down the gun, it makes me nervous.''
`` You know, I loaded three bullets in the clip.''
Jessica looked at him, puzzled, `` I do n't understand.''
`` Let me explain,'' Ethan suddenly lifted the gun and pointed it at Jessica.
...
|
[ WP ] Tell me about the first time you had a beer .
|
As much as I told myself I β d always remember that summer, the doily tablecloth on the porch of that beat up house is more vivid than any of their faces. To a seventeen year old harboring resentment for authority, David β s 4/2 was a sanctuary. He lived in the house alone while his mother was stuck in New York, which meant every couch, bed, and blanket harbored a teenager. I β d never done drugs, smoked cigarettes, or consumed alcohol before that house. In my defense, it β s difficult to say no when so many hours were spent cramped around that table passing the bowl back and forth, back and forth, like we were completing a sacred ritual.
I don β t remember why I decided to drink that nightβ¦ My decision probably hinged on my desire to evoke from Ronnie one of his sly smiles; the one smothered with mischievous approval, given to me every time I tried something he knew was out of my comfort zone. Disenchanted with my Christian high school and uninterested in the ordinary going-ons of my school friends, I longed approval from the dirty drop-outs.
Phone in one hand, beer in the other, I spend that whole night leaving drunken voicemails for Samantha. I smoked so many of Brandi β s cigarettes while talking to whoever wandered out to join me. Sandra had just started dating Ronnieβ¦that night knew nothing of the bad times and heroin addiction that would soon turn their lives into wreckage.
I guess that is why I remember so vividly the details of the tablecloth that fostered our friendship, because too soon those relationships would break up in a typhoon of theft and abuse. The crack and fizz that first Steel Reserve made while opening it, the secure feeling of belonging after toasting with my friends, and the full-bodied laughter reverberating through the night will be what I hold with me when reminiscing that summer.
|
[ WP ] `` Is everything a game to you ? '' She asked . Upon hearing those words I frowned for the first time in a while .
|
For the past several years, life had been great. Not easy by any stretch of the imagination, but each challenge had been a refreshing change from the monotony I was used to living in, and I conquered them with joy. College? Great. First job? Even better. Promotions? You got it. But then the economy tanked, and suddenly my petroleum engineering degree did n't look so hot to employers. I got laid off and had to move back in with my mom.
In the past, this would have been unbearable. This time though, I was filled with a new lightness of heart, and I took it in stride. Nothing really mattered all that much, in the grand scheme of things.
After a couple months of casually looking for a job and coming up with nothing I wanted to do, my mom was fed up. She came home to me laying on the couch, reading a book as usual. I tuned out most of the screaming, enveloped in the world of Stephen King, but her last sentence caught my attention.
`` *Is everything a game to you*? Do n't you ever want to do anything with your life?!'' She was practically spitting at me with fury.
Upon hearing those words, I frowned for the first time in a while. I still could n't quite believe I was the only one to figure this out.
`` Mom, there's something I need to show you.''
She glared at me for a long moment, and I felt her eyes boring into me as I walked outside to the garage. I did n't bother to look back - I knew should would follow - and hopped in the car.
`` Where are we going?''
`` Downtown.''
She *hmphed* in annoyance, but got in anyway, and I peeled out of the driveway, heading towards the epicenter of the city.
We pulled up to the capital building, parked and went inside.
`` Are n't you going to pay?''
`` Nope. It does n't matter.'' I pulled her along after me before she could start rummaging in her purse.
We went through a side door, down a short hallway to the right, and the ground began to slope down. *Just like I remembered* I thought with a little smile. Down and down we spiraled, until I could hear the electric whir of motors and buzzing lights. I dared not open the door, for fear of waking the inhabitants inside, but I let her peek through the little glass window in the door.
She gasped, and I knew exactly what she saw. Rows and rows and rows of people, hooked up to machines, electrodes attached to their shaved heads. Some played peaceful lives, others attempted to do heroic or evil deeds and they often cried out in their sleep-like state in pain, fear or triumph.
`` So to answer your question mother, yes. Everything is a game. And we are the ones being played.''
|
[ WP ] 2350 A.D. , we are living peacefully in two solar systems . A science organisation finds evidence that a terrifying alien empire will encounter us in 50 years . They must engineer a false flag operation to get the two systems to war with each other to galvanise our weapons and defenses
|
`` We've been noticing this trend for sometime. Actually, we did n't even know it was a trend at first we just knew it was happening. The fact that it was a trend is what-''
`` Today, Higgins.''
`` Right. So we'd noticed that previously telescopically discovered exoplanets were, well, no longer exoplanets. Recorded patterns in a star's orbital brightness modulations were changing drastically. The spots where the planets should be were *almost* disappearing. It'd only be a few planets per system, usually inner ones, the ones that are usually solid-''
`` Higgins no one is this room right now has less than 3 PhDs, you can skip the high school astronomy facts.''
`` Sir I'm sorry but that bit is really important. You see it did n't make sense until we realized this was happening in a system to system pattern. We ran some models and it lines up with... something... expanding it's way across the galaxy. It's following a pretty predictable route now. It'll reach us in about 50 years, give or take.''
`` You ca n't be seriously suggesting...''
`` I am.''
`` So when you said *almost* you meant-''
`` The changes are consistent with an asteroid field now being where the planet is. In short, something has been blowing up planets across the galaxy and is on it's way here. Sir, we have to go the worlds' governments. Perhaps under the origin treaty we can-''
`` The entire purpose of the Origin Treaty was *de*militirization. The unified Centari government keeps it's finances transparent in exchange for more autonomy and the old Earth Governments continue to keep each other in check. No politician is going to risk re-election because some scientist say they saw aliens in a telescope.''
`` Sir, scientist seeing things in telescopes is the whole reason we're spread out over two systems now.''
`` No the impact of that unforeseen asteroid in Texas, U.S.A. at the beginning of the 21st century is the reason. The rerouting of funds from the country with the largest military budget on the planet ushered in a golden era of space exploration. It seems history is not without a sense of irony.''
`` Irony sir?''
`` This organization was created by those who believed that it is ultimately scientist who are the first and last vanguard of humanity's future. Texas was no accident. The planet burned while their politicians bickered and quarreled over basic human rights, scientific facts, and educational funding, all while fueling greed under the veil of religious righteousness. So the founders of this organization took matters into their own hands and they took lives to further the science of peace. Now we must take lives to further the science of war. We'll have to orchestrate an event, a military action, which increases the military funding of both systems. We've come full circle.''
`` I see... Well you ca n't argue with results. I suppose it's the only logical course of action. Just one question for the moment sir. Can we do something targeting the Biological Initiative To Change How Evil Starts?''
`` You mean those idiots lobbying to have atheism augmented out of fetuses? Sure.''
`` Really?''
`` Of course. Like I said. Texas was no accident.''
|
[ WP ] you 're a superhero who can use every superpower just once . Late in your career , you 've had to start getting creative .
|
`` Ah haha! Captain Assembler, so old, so grey, so very tired. I've waited years for this moment, and finally it's here. The moment where you could n't hide any longer.''
Jane sighed and leaned against the teller counter. Another villain, monologueing. At least it gave her time to think. She wiped the sweat puddling above her red mask. She cursed herself for not indulging in a new mask, but spending that kind of money seemed indulgent this close to retirement.
`` You see,'' the robber began, but Jane held up her index finger and walked away.
`` Wait! Where are you going?''
`` I'm thirsty, and there are free drinks in the cooler. Just give me a minute.''
`` But,'' he stuttered. The man had n't even been creative in his villain costume. A purple suit and a green shirt. She emphasized her finger's seriousness with her eyebrows raised high, strode over to the mini-fridge, and plucked a diet soda. She almost felt a little better as the soda can cracked open, hissed, and popped. The sound of a freshly opened aluminum can was itself refreshing. *Soda healing powers* she thought. *Going to have to file that one away. *
`` Now, you were saying,'' she said as she returned to the counter. She leaned and took a deep sip, luxuriating in the tickle worming down her throat.
`` Yes, ***I*** finally figured it out. You do n't have unlimited power. You ca n't use the same power over again! No more super-strength! No more flight! No more x-ray vision! After so many years being a *hero*, you're just like us!''
Jane took another deep sip from the soda can, set it down and started to clap. The slow *thwawps* echoed around the bank's lobby, and she saw one of the hostages flinch with every clap. Jane bent down and gently touched the woman on the shoulder.
`` Is it true,'' the hostage whispered, her eyes wide as Lake Michigan.
Jane nodded and stood to face the robber. `` You, sir. You're good. You've got this all worked out. Question: why have n't you shot me?''
`` I mean, well, that's obvious is n't it.''
`` Not really, I just want to know. If I'm so helpless, why wait to pull the trigger?''
`` Well, I will! *I* just wanted the satisfaction of you knowing that I knew your secret. So goodbye, Captain Assembler.''
`` Sure, sure,'' Jane said putting a hand on her hip. `` Just one thing before my tragic demise. What's your name?''
`` My name?''
`` Sure, your name. You're going to kill me and everyone else in here anyway. What's it hurt to tell me your name?''
The robber tilted his head to the side, and brought the muzzle of the gun up to scratch his temple. `` Uh, Jimmy,'' he said
`` Good,'' Jane said with a smile. `` Jimmy, do me a favor. Say'goring angry unicorn.'''
`` Goring angry unicorn?'' Jimmy said puzzled.
`` Gotcha,'' Jane said with a wink.
Just then, a white flash exploded through the lobby door. Jane gasped at its splendor. The lobby door's glass seemed to hang in the air around the body of a horse. Its coat was like sparkling pieces of tin. Its hooves clacked against the floor like falling anvils, and it's hornβJane could n't even gaze at the beauty of its horn. It let out a wail like wind bottled from the four corners of the sky as it stampeded towards Jimmy. Jimmy raised his gun and fired at the animal in a wild burst, the muzzle climbing towards the ceiling with each shot. It was almost like he'd raised the gun in surrender when the calamity reached him, but by then it was too late. The unicorn's head slammed into his chest, and drove him into the open vault. A crash like cymbals reverberated out of the vault door, as Jimmy and the unicorn collided with the wall of safety deposit boxes. The unicorn thrashed its head, and a sickening crack echoed out of the vault.
Slowly, the animal backed towards Jane, blood pouring from the crown of its head where the horn once sat. Jane looked into the vault to see blood dripping from Jimmy's mouth, his head slumped down, and a white horn squarely fixed into his chest. The horse nuzzled Jane at the shoulder. She grasped its head with both her hands and leaned against the flat of its nose. Then the horse disappeared, leaving wreckage of Jimmy's body, slumped down against the lobby floor, as the only item of note.
`` I've never used any of those powers as a hero,'' she said as she helped the woman cowering behind the teller counter to her feet. `` They all got used up in my youth. I flew Marvy Spencer to Paris on a date when I was a teenager. The foolish rashness of my youth,'' she said with a sigh. `` Then again, it was one hell of a date.''
`` But I do n't understand,'' said the shaking woman. `` All the news crews. All the people you've thrown in prison. Everyone says you've got the strength of ten thousand men.''
Jane shook her head. `` I let them say what they want. Legends are simple, reality is complicated. My true gift? It's imagination. And in that I find never ending power.'' She reached down and grabbed a small radio from her belt. `` All clear in her Sergeant,'' she said.
Men with black helmets, black guns, and black boots stormed into the building. They grabbed the hostages, and helped them to their feet. A uniformed officer walked over to Jane and whistled.
`` Punched another one, eh?'' he said.
`` Punched another one,'' she said with a wink.
|
[ WP ] The story of the worlds first corporate adoption of a child
|
Really new to whole writing thing, but here goes!
*Day 1*
Televisions across the nation sprang to life, as a middle aged woman wearing a far too bright pink suit appeared on screen, surrounded by several older businessmen, all in stuffy suits on a far too elaborate stage. β We here, at the Hoodinin Corporation, are pleased to announce the arrival of our newest member of our family. We hope that this will mark a new future for our nation as we continue to show that corporations are indeed people as well. And now, for our newest member, please welcome Timothy Hoodinin! β The woman glanced to her side and waved towards someone offscreen. Shortly thereafter, a child, no older than 8, walked up beside the woman, and blankly stared at the camera. Both woman and child stood as they were for a few moments -- presumably for pictures -- and then both left offscreen as one of the businessmen proceeded to take center stage.
He began to speak β As many of you know, the Constitution states that Corporations are considered the same as a single person in a business sense. And in all legal proceedings up to this point, this fact has held up in the courts. However, many in the public believe Corporations are not human at all, which, as all of us here at Hoodinin know, is the farthest thing from the truth. For Corporations are not just human, but super-human! And we will prove this by adopting our own child, Timothy Hoodinin, into our family, so that we may show that we are a family as well! β Faint applause could be heard.
*Day 25*
The television in Timothy β s room sprang to life, probably a new update on his status. As he predicted, he was right. He looked on to the woman in the bright pink suit, the one who was supposed to be his β mother, β and his various β fathers, β as they went on about how great he was doing. The IV tube was running low but he didn β t the nurse to come quite yet -- he always hated the needles. Shortly after this thought, the door swung open and an old woman wearing scrubs walked towards him, took out the needle implanted in him, attached a new one to the tube, replaced the fluid bag, and reinserted the needle while telling the same story about how her grandchildren would always laugh whenever someone said the word β doodoo. β This time, however, something different happened.
β Remember Timothy, this is always for the best, β the nurse said.
He just nodded and tried to close his eyes.
β No, no, you can β t do that yet, we β re going to do something new today. β The nurse walked out, and shortly came back in with a weird looking cart thing, along with several black belt looking things. She loosened the belts from the cart and carefully fastened them to each of his limbs, alongside one around his stomach. β This may feel a little funny, β she said as she pushed a button. At once all of Timothy β s limbs started moving back and forth outside of his control. He was more than a little terrified, but the only thing that he could force was a few tears down his face. After a minute, the nurse pushed another button that turned it off, removed all of the belts, gave him a little smile, and walked away with the cart. His body hurt all over, but at least he could sleep now.
*Day 70*
The television sprang back to life, Timothy already knew what was going to be said. He could actually recite their speech, word for word, now. Actually, when he thought about it, he could recite a great deal of things. He felt that maybe he was growing smarter, and he knew he was quite a bit bigger, though he wasn β t exactly sure why, however. He suspected it was the needle thing, since he knew that was normally for food, but he was brought food daily, that he could eat from his bed. The speech was going on longer than expected, so he decided to start paying attention.
One of his β fathers β was speaking, β Today we hope to achieve a great milestone in our progress with Timothy, we are going to start preparing him for his new role as our son, we hope to give you more details in the coming hours. β News to him, at least. The television shut itself down as the usual applause was happening. Soon after, the β father β who was just speaking burst into the door, with the nurse trailing quickly behind him. β But sir, he is not ready! He hardly speaks still.. β
β I don β t care! I want him to be ready by the end of the hour, understand!? β He boomed.
The nurse sighed. β I β ll try, but I β m no miracle worker. β She exited the room for a moment, and came back with more needles and tubes and fluid bags. β I β m sorry, Timothy.. β She continued to insert more and more needles across his body. Before he only had the one in his arm, but now there were more, a few on his legs, one in his neck, one at the back of his head. She then left Timothy and her boss alone in the room.
β F-f..ahh..teh..er? β Timothy spoke.
β That is Mr. Gried to you, son. β The businessman replied.
β Guh... grrr... grrreeeduh? β
β No, Gried. G-R-I-E-D. Gried. β
β Misss-tehr uhh..Guhried? β
Mr. Gried clenched his fists, β No, boy, Mister Gried! β
Timothy winced a little, β I- I- I... suh... suhh..rry..Missssterr Gried.. β
Mr. Gried was noticeably turning red, but then calmed himself down and let out a smirk. β That will do, son, that will do. β He then turned away and walked towards exit, muttering something about a β crazy Pee Arr Stunt. β
*Day 100*
Timothy felt old. That was how he would describe it. They let him walk now, although he was not allowed outside of the room. He Looked down, at the floor, at his wrinkled feet. At some point, they gave him a bigger bed, but even that was too small now. The television sprang to life, His β mother, β who he was sure looked younger than him now, walked up to a podium, simply stated, β I am glad to announce that our experience with Timothy was wildly successful, β and left. He could hear down the hallway a rushed conversation. β We need another Timothy, β one said.
β Why, wasn β t this experiment a resounding failure? He won β t live to see the end of the week! And we didn β t get a single productive minute out of him! β The other said.
β That β s why we need to do better, maybe find one that wasn β t brain dead to start with. β
β And exactly how are we going to spin this to the public? β
β We don β t, just pretend that whatever new child we get is Timothy, maybe only give him a little bit of the aging fluid this time. β
β Okay, and exactly how are we going to get a lookalike that isn β t braindead before the public finds out? β Which was the last thing Timothy heard. He felt limp, knowing that he was the topic of their conversation, knowing that he was going to die soon. In all of these days, they tried their best to make him a productive human being as fast as possible, but they never understood that all Timothy needed was a Gameboy.
|
[ EU ] The Gotham government has finally fast-tracked the Joker to be subjected to death . Batman visits him before his execution .
|
The Joker was housed in the most secure prison in the brightest darkest hole Gotham possessed; it never stood a chance. Two guards-blunt trauma, four more-gassed, ex-military contract guard- multiple fractures, concussed. It was all so routine save for the fact that all his targets were members of Gotham PD. He rested his shaking gloved hand on the steel door. It would be a minute before the door was cracked.
There would be consequences. They wouldn β t be able to prove it, but they would know it was him. The commissioner would be the only one not surprised. Alfred could have stopped him, could have reconnected with the boy he was, the man he should have grown to be, but time had robbed him of everything.
The door swung open revealing the human rights violation of a restraint mockup they had used. There was anger in those bonds, his champions had lost themselves to rage. He was truly alone. The old man lay on the floor, his smeared makeup marred with deep fresh gashes and a broken jaw. His execution was to be in the morning, but it was unlikely he would survive these wounds.
They had capture a freak, deemed him unworthy to live, and poured all their hate into him. He was a madman they were going to put down. This wasn β t justice, it was vengeance. They had gone too far, but he knew it was more than that. This man was the vengeance he never took; he was what helped him remember that he was not a monster. He was justice. They were going to take that away in the morning.
They chose to destroy madness rather than try to cure it. Had he done the same, he would have left Gotham in ashes years ago. He looked into the face of his dichotomy, the Joker, bound and gagged, and to his surprise the eyes flashed open. β You always did have a remarkable pain tolerance. Come on, β he said, unbuckling the restraints β you β re going to live with me from here on out. β
|
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.