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[ WP ] You wake up in your apartment but with no apparent memory . There 's a barrage of several loud knocks on the door just as you notice a viscous blue fluid leaking from your forearm . A black-ops team rappels from a helicopter crashing through your window .
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`` Urrgh... tastes like a raccoon shit in my mouth.''
This is how my Saturday started. Head pounding and my mouth filled with a taste somewhere between rotten garbage and actual faeces. The curtains were wide open and the bed was now illuminated with a wide sunbeam that made going back to sleep impossible. I tried pretty hard, scrunching myself into a ball, trying to shut out the painful rays of the sun but by this point, the hangover had stuck it's witch nails into my brain and I had to admit defeat.
I actually had to almost forcibly peel myself from the bed sheets, I was so sticky. Friggin' air con must've broke, I remember thinking. Stumbling into the other room of my shit-box of an apartment, my hands outstreched like a zombie as I made for the sink. Precious, life giving H2O was my quest and I actually just turned on the tap and stuck my mouth around it, chugging from the tap. Parched did not even begin to describe it.
After about 20 seconds, I'd switched from drinking to attempting to drown myself as the hangover surged up two full notches on the Kill-Me scale. I opened a cupboard, retrieved two painkillers and a cup and winced at the fizzing noise. What the hell was I doing last night?
While the tablets melted, I attempted to focus on the room and a flashing red light drew my attention. Answering machine. 6 messages. Had they been there yesterday? Hitting play would mean a brain searing beep, which I was n't ready to deal with. By now, the tablets were mostly gone and I slugged back the mix and only retched once.
The room began to come into sharper focus and as I scratched at my arm, it felt tacky. Looking down, my arms were covered in this blue goop. It was weird, like the consistency of moisturiser but sticky like maple syrup. I stumbled to the bathroom and looked into the mirror. This stuff was fucking EVERYWHERE! My skin had a blue tint and there were thick globs of it on my arms. Horrified, I jumped into the shower and started scrubbing furiously. The drain looked like the scene from Psycho.
After about 20 minutes, the drain ran clear at last and I stepped out to towel off. I felt so much better. Everything firing if not on all cylinders, at least on most of them, 80 % of the time. Hungry now. Apparently there was not a clean dish left in the apartment so I just started eating Lucky Charms by the handful and I hit play on the answering machine while I munched.
`` Mike, dude where are you? Come on, happy hour started forty-five fucking minutes ago!!''
*BEEEEEP*
`` You have been selected to participate in a marketing survey, please press 1 to be connected to a representative''
*BEEEEEP*
`` Mike where are you? The store opened ten minutes ago! Call me!''
*BEEEEEP*
`` Hah, dude these picture of you online are frigging hilarious! Looks like you ate out Smurfette dude! Pick up your cell man!''
*BEEEEEP*
`` Mike, seriously, I've been here for an hour on my own! Get your ass in here!''
*BEEEEEP*
`` Where the fuck did you go last night man? What the fuck man? Did you get Facebook to ban my account because of those pictures? What the hell dude? This fucking sucks! You are such a no-fun little bitch y'know?''
*BEEEEEP*
It was at this point I came to a worrying realisation: I had no clue who Mike was. You ever had that dream where you suddenly realise you're naked in public? It felt like that. Suddenly, I felt very naked standing in the middle of an apartment that I was n't sure was mine, wearing a towel that I was n't sure was mine. I needed to get out of here. I needed to figure out who the fuck I was cause I sure as shit did n't think I was Mike. Was I the kind of person who got blackout drunk and lost his memory? Did I go home with someone last night? Did I just break into someone's apartment last night? Who the fuck am I?
I went back to the bedroom to look for clothes, a wallet, a cellphone. Something that might give me a clue who I was. No luck. The clothes in the dresser fit at least. Maybe this is my place. Still, this was a Bad Thing. I needed to go see a doctor or something. So I dressed and picked up a set of keys that were lying on the bedroom floor. I made it halfway across the living room before something made me stop. Flashing red light. Another message? I had n't heard the phone ring. No, it was moving across the wall. Then another. And another. Then there was an ungodly bang. Suddenly the door and windows all burst inwards and I lifted my arms to shield myself from whatever the fuck was coming. Then the world went blue.
The next moments are a bit of a blur but before I knew it I was standing on the rooftop of the building opposite. I remember hitting a couple of guys in body armor and there was this blue stuff all around me. I saw bullets fly towards me and the blue stuff thickened and stopped them. Then I leapt out of a fourth storey window. The blue stuff swung me off a fire escape and through the air.
Now I'm on a city rooftop, with blue ooze coming out of me that seems to want to save my life. There are armed me looking to take me down. And I have no idea who I am.
Help.
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[ WP ] The world is ending in less than 1 minute . You are breaking the news live on tv . How does it play out ?
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`` Chet! Chet! Where are you going?! *We're on the air! *''
`` *You're* on the air, fucker!'' Chet screams as he sprints from the studio, tearing his clothes off as he runs. His jacket goes easily, and he rips out of his dress shirt without unbuttoning it. He hears all of the buttons clattering to the floor and tinkling down the stairwell as he pounds down to the lobby below. Why was he getting naked? `` Why not?! Jesus, I've only got like thirty seconds! What am I doing? What do I *do*?!''
He bursts out of the building into the chaos of the screaming crowds outside. About half of the people on the streets had the same idea as him, running to and fro on the sidewalks and in the streets in various stages of undress. Chet himself hops out of his boxers and runs out into the crowd.
Not looking where he's going, he collides with another man, about his age. They both go sprawling onto the pavement, Chet gritting his teeth with pain as he skins his knees.
`` Hey, you're Chet Wilson! The news guy!'' The young man looks surprised and pleased.
`` Yeah, that's me! Open wide, big fella!'' Having never done so with another man before, he plants the sloppiest kiss of his life on the young man's mouth, helicoptering his tongue as a sort of finishing touch.
`` That was actually really nice!'' The young man says, grinning.
`` Jesus,'' Chet says slowly, `` am I ga --''
The world explodes, killing everyone on it. Humanity is no more.
Several millenia hence, an alien race stumbles across one of the last remnants of human endeavor, the space probes landed on and orbiting Mars. They are taken aboard the aliens' spacecraft. One of the young technicians on the spacecraft is spellbound by these last tiny specks of a lost civilization, and dedicates her life to gathering all the information she possibly can about the human race.
She ekes out an incredible amount ofdata from the Mars space probes. Although not all of it is strictly correct, as so much of it is extrapolated, she captures her peoples' collective imagination in the series of four non-fiction books that she publishes about her findings.
She meets her future husband at one of her many book-signings. She collects a fortune from sales of her bestselling series, and those she writes afterwards on extra-planetary artifacts and cosmic questions. She and her husband have three children. She passes away at a ripe old age, within a month of her husband, surrounded by her children. Her study of humanity made her life deeply full and profoundly happy.
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[ CW ] Tell a story in an unconventional way with the ending before the beginning
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*The last of the firelights ascended to the dark vault of the sky. *
*'' How did it come to this? `` *
He descended to the depths of the castle. Winding stone stairs led down to the deep dungeons. A candle flame flickered in his lantern, illuminating vast shadows in the depths.
Skulls grinned at him as he walked past the sepulchres. Webbed doors hung open in his wake as his enchanted blade tore through the Spider's silks.
'Who are you to dare descend to our darkness?'
'Who are you who would claim to slay the great Mother?'
'Who are you?'
Spectral limbs reached out for him, clawed feet snaking to trip him, translucent wings fluttering in spastic movements. As he descended further, a soft glow began to grow until he saw the Beast lying in the centre of a vast chamber.
The Spider lay upon a nest of withered, giant eggs. Carcasses lay about her, mummified and withered by age. Carcasses that looked almost human, carcasses with too many eyes and legs and jointed limbs.
'Are you... a hero? After all these long nights...'
The Spider shifted, raising its torso from its bed. Giant limbs tapped against marble floor, sending cracks in the aged stone.
The Spider loomed above him, staring ahead with milky, blind eyes.
'Come, hero. Come and slay.'
A web of spells were slung in his direction, glittering with moonlight glow. He drew his blade, allowing the silverlight to glint over his head. He lunged forward, dodging around scattered limbs. He slashed and cut, dancing between spells with a nimble agility.
His lantern glowed, burning blue.
`` It's time for you to rest at last, my lady.''
The Spider's head slid off its torso, spilling black ichor onto the cracked ground. Its body slumped to the ground, stirring dust from long abandoned catacombs.
'At last...'
`` At last...''
Light streamed from the withered eggs and the chambers far beyond, illuminating the long darkened chamber. Her webs fell away from the ceiling far above, allowing moonlight to flow into the chamber.
*Her body disintegrated into light, revealing a woman's corpse within. *
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[ WP ] In an alternate universe , the Roman Empire never fell and the United States was born out of a revolution against the Romans . In 2014 , the Roman Empire goes to war a second time against the United States of America . Describe this war from a soldier 's point of view .
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Nobody cracked a smile or spoke a word as Pvt. Mackenzie vomited into a brown bag. Our captain, who was in our position only 15 years back, advised us not to overeat the night before.
`` The last thing you want is a full stomach with the tides rolling and your nerves aching.''
She ate bigger meals the even the largest guys, but you would n't be able to tell from her body. The woman was a warrior through and through, but that made her sickness even more unsettling.
`` You had to go for second helpings,'' said Wilson, with his playful smirk.
She sighed, wiped her mouth, and cocked her head over to him. `` If I wanted to roll around in a ship I'd have joined the Navy.'' She dropped her sick-bag in one of the metal receptacles adjacent to each each seat.
`` Desperate times,'' I mumbled.
Mackenzie turned her head to face me. `` Desperate measures,'' she replied.
The static of the intercom clicked on. `` ATTENTION: 5 minutes to dropoff.''
All the soldiers rattled and twisted in their seats. Some checking there weapons, others twisting totems in silent prayer. Mackenzie and I only exchanged solemn glances. Wilson, again, broke the silence.
`` It's possible the Romans have already fled from the coast. Hell, we've been bombing their beaches for the better part of a week.''
Brewster, who sat across from him, rolled his eyes, `` Wishful thinking.''
`` Logical thinking, actually.''
`` How,'' I spoke up. `` You're talking about an empire that has made war and expansion it's hobby for the last 2000 years. We're dealing with something ruthless here. When Russia started gathering weapons, they invaded. When China threatened to limit trading, leaders started to disappear.''
`` Thank you, Professor Turner, for the history lesson.''
`` Fuck off. I'm here for my country, in a boat, with a gun, just like everyone else. So save that shit for someone else.''
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[ WP ] You are God ( or a god ) . Tell me a story or give me commentary on an event .
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`` I'm really not that difficult to understand, ” I dictated down to nothing, but the comment wrote itself in the comment box anyway. The particulars of how bending reality worked for such a meager task would take longer than what I already intended to explain. “ It's just a matter of perspective… and some misunderstandings from your collective side. Things are different from my vantage.'' I paced back and forth, well really I pantomimed it; pretending to walk on a solid surface out in the middle of space, trying to find the right words to explain ‘ reality ’ and the purpose of life without making it seem like a dreary, hopeless, existential nightmare. Not too far off from the kind of Lovecraftian revelation that causes insanity or drives the knower to suicide to escape consciousness. Though that kind of revelation is usually only half the information. As for why I'm even revealing this knowledge? It really does n't matter if you know or not. It ’ s temporary. It does n't change the rules cosmic game one bit.
`` You see you were all put here... No. **We** were all put here for entertainment. It's a game of sorts. A very simple game. For you to ascend as a being as far as you can while alive. I was involved more in the beginning but now I'm just a casual observer, I set you all up with the rules to move on and it ’ s your job to collectively follow them. They have n't translated well but that's just all part of the game, you ’ ll feel them out and it ’ ll make sense. Then when humanity is ready you will ascend to the next stage which is just below mine. You will become powerful servants. Servants to this cosmic game and you will watch over others who are at the level below yours, societies that will be just like humanity is now and you will slowly guide them from just beyond their perception until they too are ready to ascend. It's like this all throughout the universe… and the other universes. Even I still have some climbing to do and you will eventually accumulate into a being like me.'' I stopped pacing giving me a chance to start a new. `` Reality is such a poor name for where we actually are. It's actually the opposite, everything we experience in life is actually an illusion. A big celestial sandbox… And the goal is to raise your perception until you can pierce the illusion. ”
I took a moment and sat back to recline in the vast nothingness of the cosmos. “ I suppose this is all probably still confusing to you. You must be asking yourself ‘ Why? What ’ s the point of this whole game? ’ While you ’ re alive your perception of this whole cycle is dulled, it makes more sense when your soul pops in for a visit and you begin to remember all your cumulative experiences. You get to see things more from my perspective and when you choose to go back you unfortunately forget all that. That ’ s okay, that ’ s just part of the whole process. And why creation itself…? Well… Have you ever spent an extended time alone? Truly alone devoid of contact. I know with how technology has advanced now it ’ s harder to achieve true solitude in most parts of Earth. However if you can get a week without contact with other life you ’ ll understand it better from down there... It starts to weigh on you. At some point you start to fragment your mind to compensate for the lack of contact with other sentient life. It ’ s the same thing. We ’ re all the same being trying to pass the time by watching all things. One single being, that has the ability to compartmentalize itself and force itself to forget. To hide pieces of itself in an illusionary imaginative world. Watching us/itself is the only thing this being can do to cope. The higher you ascend the more prevalent this truth becomes. You get more glimpses behind the veil at it and yourself not being separate from it and you understand why we ’ re here. The illusion of reality does a good job of keeping you from recognizing your bond to it. ” I paused for a moment. “ When all things have come to pass, all possibilities fulfilled, at the end of time we will all become one consciousness again, so enjoy the ride we all set up. Then after all is said and done the process will start again. The infinite being we all are will make itself forget and create a new cosmic canvas and time will start over again. “
I took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly even though I had long since forgone the need to do so. A habit I picked up from watching life, watching humanity. “ So go. Go forth and live for a purpose of your choosing. Or don ’ t. Someone else will at some point. Like I said it doesn ’ t matter, we ’ re all entertainment until the curtain falls on the universe. I ’ ll see you again in a few years and we ’ ll have this chat again. ”
I went back to my eternal task of observing humanity.
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Write about your earliest memory [ WP ]
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I was crying. You see it was only my mother and I in a very little apartment on Coney Island. We never had much, but my mother always used to tell me that I was special. Anyway, sorry, the first memory. I used to eat in this high chair as a baby. The kitchen was very tiny though, so the highchair was placed adjacent to the utensil drawer which had my mother's radio above it on the counter. My mother was in this country music phase when I was younger so there was a cassette of an ALABAMA album there, I remember that too. But I was reaching for the drawer while my mother was going into an above cabinet or something like that. While she was leaning up and I was reaching she accidentally squeezed my arm with her body up against the drawer. I was hysterical crying. And that's it that was my first memory.
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[ WP ] Friends and family manage to put you on the presidential ballot as a prank . As a result , millions of people vote for you including the electoral college . You become president of America . In one year you are forcefully kicked out of the White House . Write about your downfall .
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They had always said I would be President one day. They had always said I would sit in the Oval Office. They had always said I would lead the nation to peace, prosperity, and a world of happiness.
And I had always smiled, laughed, and nodded my head. Me? As President of the United States? It was a childhood dream I've had since I was eight.
I just never imagined it would actually happen. The youngest President ever elected. The first President since Truman who did n't have a college degree. The President who was forcefully kicked out of office in under 365 days. But the President who reminded the American people of why the government was there.
To protect them, not to loom over them.
In my first hundred days I was ridiculed, I was mocked, I was told how and why to do things. In my first hundred days I was told to sit in my chair and do nothing. In my first hundred days I was told not to pass any laws, not to talk to any politicians, not to do anything that the media could attack me about.
In my first hundred days I changed the landscape of the entire world. By changing education. By changing welfare. By changing gun laws. By changing the nation's biggest problems. By changing politics at it's core. The politicians hated me because I was able to show the American people what they were doing.
And the politicians began my impeachment on day one hundred and one. I did n't fight it because I knew it would work. I was young, inexperienced, hated by the politicians, but loved by the people. But the people had no say in politics, and I had vowed to change that. So I continued to do the work I needed, I continued to change the course of politics and by the time the impeachment happened, the nation had seen the politicians in the truest light.
And I was going home a happy man.
I was going home knowing that the people now had a voice.
______________________________________________________________________
I strayed from the prompt a bit, but I hope you like it! I definitely enjoyed it, thank you!
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[ WP ] ( S ) He was siting down with death having the weirdest conversation about ...
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-'' Am I dead?'' she asked thru waves of tears pouring down her cheeks catching a breath to ask a question she already knew the answer to.After all she just open her eyes a minute ago and found herself in a vast darkness sitting on a chair with Death across the table.
-'' No no no my dear.I brought you here to talk.This is my place, you like it?''. Death pulled the cape off his head and revealed his skull with flaming eyes just smiling at her.
-'' I do'' she lied fearfully. She lost the ability to speak after that, she did n't need it.They were n't any words in her mind which would make her understand this situation.
-'' Nice of you to lie my dear.''
-Her heart stopped for a second. `` I have a pulse.I'm not dead'' she realized.Than felt her heartbeat with both hands to make sure.
-'' I told you that already''
-....
-'' Listen, when i was alive i had lovely family and two sons.But that was 900 years ago.And now my blood line is thin.So thin only you remain of it my dear.''
-....
`` My point is, only you can take upon my job or someone new will be chosen''
-...
-'' I do n't want that.I want you to be the new Grimm Reaper''
-...
-'' Do n't worry, you will continue your normal life and at the end of it we will have this conversation again.''
-...
-'' You will be trained by Life to do this job until that point no matter how this conversation ends.But then i will need your approval so you could take my place.''
-....
-'' If you say no than i will have to delay my retirement again for another 50 years, take or add a decade. Because i do n't want that i called you here to get an early answer.''
-...
-'' I do n't kill people. I just guide their souls to the right place at the right time.They die on their own sooner or later, they really do n't even need someone else taking their lives.''
-...
-'' Well that is it.See you at the end my dear''
-She jumped from her bed `` A dream'' she yelled.To her it felt like reality, but i could n't have been.
-Her friend peeked into the room saying `` wake up sleepy, you'll be late if you do n't hurry.'' As he saw her standing he started backing up but peeked again and said `` I'm really proud of you for volunteering.Not many people have patience with the blind.And you even have a talent for it.''
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[ WP ] During the war with neighboring country , the King realizes that his bastard son is fighting as a common soldier among his host .
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`` Granted, it's a suicide mission, but the needs of the kingdom must prevail.'' The king rested his chin on arched hands as he addressed the lords and generals assembled around the long table. `` The Rovian brigade have a long and storied history of loyalty and sacrifice-''
`` The Severan, my liege.''
There was a moment's hesitation, and Chancellor Valtaine knew the rumours were true. The king's face was so poorly masked, he might as well have declared it aloud. For one born to palace intrigue, Temitus VI was sorely lacking in subtlety.
`` I thought the Severan forces were positioned on this side of the river?''
`` The plans were revised,'' Valtaine spoke softly and watched the king intently. `` At the request of Captain Artos himself.'' *With a little gentle persuasion. * `` You approved the formations presented by Lord Calour.''
`` I approved...'' The king's voice was faint and hoarse. `` The young fool wants to cover himself in glory.''
Valtaine smirked faintly, but was not so foolish as to do so with his face.
`` The captain is certainly an ambitious young man. He is aware of the dangers, and the plan has been approved by Lord Severus,'' Valtaine spoke with measured deliberation. `` The boy's father.''
Temitus gave Valtaine a sour glance and the chancellor could see the barrage of curses he kept restrained stretching against every line in his face. Temitus opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. He was trapped and he knew it. Valtaine found his revenge sweeter than wine. The king was finally learning the true nature of power, after all the suffering that pompous ass had caused him. After the loss of his Royas.
`` Then we have our plan,'' the king croaked. `` I trust that... my lords are more than capable.'' He stood, shakily, that perverse enjoyment he took from planning his wars utterly drained from him, as was the colour from his face. `` I really must... retire.''
The king departed without another look at Valtaine. The chancellor was glad, he was n't sure how long he could keep from smiling.
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[ CW ] Write a story that will make me feel sad ( or at least wistful/melancholy ) without touching on the themes of love , death , or anything religious .
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I do n't think I could tell you when it all went to shit but I know for certain it was some time between the ages of five and seven. It's odd. So few years into my life and it's already over. I can still remember what it was like to be happy. Even now, forty years later, I remember what it was like to be happy.
I try to lie to myself. I tell myself that happiness is for the weak. Happiness is for those fucking pussies that ca n't stand the real world. Those weak pieces of shit that value their emotional state over their own sense of purpose.
But what purpose do I really have?
Masturbation?
Video games?
Television?
These things bring me joy but they do n't bring me happiness. They're just a fix; to distract me from the bleakness of my existence.
But I'll continue.
I'll continue until the end.
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[ WP ] `` I thought we had all the time in the world . ''
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*Come gather, and I will regale you with the story of my elders. *
Above and below the universe, on the edge of the ninth parallel, lived Autonomy; the first born, outlaw son of the Time Keeper. Through fortnights, olympiads, millennia and other units of time more vast than comprehensible, he toiled. Many galaxies had formed and faded during his banishment, stars born and extinguished. A world like ours but a spec on the timeline of things. Fingers of entire species, both human and alien, birthed, thrived and left to wither into nothing.
Autonomy made these things by his own translucent hand. Gave life, then took it away. He took great pride in devastating things, small and large. Not a moment wasted on consideration of their intelligence. He gave, and he took.
As time is want to do, the clock ticked on, though it's difficult to discern in specifically which direction. Autonomy's powers grew stronger with every stroke of his hand. His face would distort and seem to be in two places at once. Inevitably, news of his deeds fell upon the echo chambers of the Parliament.
*You may hear `` Parliament'' and presume government. You would n't be entirely incorrect, but a fool to equate it with justice. No, the Parliament of the Parallels was not just, nor good, nor anything of the sort. The Parliament was a force, self appointed, of uncounted members, unencumbered by empathy or rules or morals or ethics. You see, of all the powers the parallels call home, benevolence is perhaps the strongest. The evil spreads like an ether, snuffing out any seedling of good. Autonomy was good, as should be the son of the Time Keeper, but left to his own devices the ether soon prevailed and found him banished to the ninth by his creator. But I digress... *
The Right Honorable Seccunda IV, self appointed king of the seventeenth and a respected member of the Parliament, approached Autonomy in a year of no particular importance nor measurable place. They spoke, though not with words or any audible sound.
> `` Oh Autonomy, I see you've been enjoying your solitude.''
And Autonomy eagerly responded.
> `` Indeed I have, Right Honorable Seccunda. It gives me a great joy to create and to take, to be the life force, the Arbiter of all things.''
Seccunda considered the response, and it took some time. Exactly how much is impossible to judge.
> `` Oh Autonomy, you are now Parliament.''
If a omniscient being could bare the resemblance of any wordly form, and they can, Autonomy's was a Cheshire Cat. His powers were more formidable than all those of the Parliament combined. An ally to be regarded with gloved hands and presented with caviar at each interaction.
With their new found weapon, the Parliament constructed a plan of epic proportions. You see, the thirteenth was unlucky, at least for them. On few occasions had they permeated its walls, and on every occasion the Time Keeper had ceremoniously detected the intrusion, warped time, and the intruders would awake to find themselves somewhere on the perimeter, requiring many millennia of time and wizardry to return to their home parallel. It was unmeasured, but certain, that some amount of good plagued the thirteenth. A malevolent and pretentious parallel of whimsy and sunshine, one which the Parliament regarded as trash. The only member of Parliament to have spent any time on the thirteenth was their latest member, Autonomy. With his knowledge it was certain that they would breech the parallel and destroy it once and for all.
*Will continue if interest, gtg*
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[ WP ] The Alien from The Thing falls in love with a human , and replaces everyone besides them .
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`` Hey Frank,'' my boss said, smiling like he did every day, `` great work on the case writeup, you really knocked it out of the park!''
`` No problem boss!'' I said.
Some people complained about their bosses; mine complimented practically everything I did.
At 5pm that day, I drove home easily. Traffic was as bad as ever but nobody seemed to be taking the middle lane. Just like every day, my commute was easy.
I got home to my wife Kruthika and her friends Cheryl and Vanessa. Just like every night.
When I'd come back from my stay in the Antarctic as the sole survivor of an attack that most people would n't even believe was real, I thought my career was over. My helicopter pilot was sympathetic, he believed me, but it surprised me when the men in black who interviewed me about the incident also did n't doubt it.
The government's official story was that an electrical problem had started a fire that burned out of control. Even when the President himself had come on TV to make a speech about the tragedy to the public and called out my name specifically as an example of `` courage and willpower'', I did n't catch on.
But I'm not stupid. You do n't get to be an antarctic research scientist without having at least a few brain cells to rub together. Plus, over time, once it'd subsumed the majority of humanity, it got less and less subtle. No reason to hide anymore, I guess.
Oh yes, I knew. The thing loved me.
And so help me, I loved it too.
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[ WP ] An imaginary friend must figure out what to do with his life after his creator dies .
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Is there a place in this world for me?
I'm cold.
A sharp gust rises from the dead, 4 A.M. streets that I'm walking. Lost, always lost. I pass a man on the street and he does n't stop to notice me. No one does, to them I'm not real. I'm not real....
NO. I ca n't let that thought deter me. I am real, dammit. I'm as real as these flesh and blood humans, arrogant in their misery. They do n't see me because they refuse to see me, but that does n't negate me. I am here, and I am waiting.
Have been waiting, a long time now.
It's morning. I do n't know when or how it happened but the sun has snuck up on me once again. The streets are n't so dead anymore but the wind still bites cold through me. I pass by several humans on the street and inwardly I beg, I plead for one of them to notice me. I'm screaming, tearing my eyes out, clawing at my face with ungainly hands that should leave gouges but do n't. Tears that are n't there flow down my horrid visage and splash nonexistent onto the pavement.
Then, I feel it.
At first it's a momentary feeling, a passing fancy. Then it grows stronger and stronger until it fills my mind, my soul once again. It is a familiar feeling, one I have n't felt in years.
Fear.
I look around me for the culprit and find a boy of seven. He tries not to look at me but I can feel his fear. He pulls at his mother's hand, urging her to walk faster, but she has a rectangle against her head and pays him no mind. I ca n't help the smile that stretches across my broken teeth towards the spot where ears should be.
There may be hope for me yet.
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[ wp ] What if before you die , death spends your last 24 hours with you .
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I felt tired. As I reached for my cane, I fell. I felt a sharp pain and heard a loud `` snap!'' My vision faded. I woke up in bed, but it was n't my bed. As I observed my `` bedroom'' I found that I was in a hospital. The doctor said I would make a full recovery. Next to him was a hooded man. `` Son?'' It did n't respond. Instead, it just stared. The doctor seemed... unaware. I saw writing appear out of thin air. `` You will die in a day. I will help ease the pain.'' It had to be the drugs. But, I realised, the painkillers werent being pumped into me. Why did n't the doctor see this? I felt no pain, however. I started to panic. The doctor calmed me down, not noticing the painkillers were n't pumping. The the hooded man just stood there. The doctor left the room. He walked right through the hooded man as if he was just air. But the man stood there. After what felt like hours, the hooded man grabbed something from his coat. It was a knife. He plunged it into my chest. I felt, saw, and heard nothing more.
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[ WP ] You stumble upon a Time Machine and decide to go back to 1900 , and murder Adolf Hitler while he 's a young boy . You return to your own time to find the world completely free from Nuclear Weapons , and as a result , the United States of America has Taken Over all of the Major Super Powers
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`` Where is your veil?'' the policewoman asked.
`` My - `` the traveler began.
The policewoman pulled a nightstick from her belt and tapped the traveler's chest chest. She spoke into her lapel. `` Purity code violation. Delta niner-seven-ought. Stand still,'' she prodded his chest with the nightstick. `` I said do n't move.''
`` I do n't know -''
She jabbed the nightstick into his sternum and the traveler doubled over, tucking his arms into his solar plexus. `` Suspect in violation of Purity codes - `` she paused, giving him a quick glance from from head to kneeling toe. She covered her lapel. `` I'm now going to verify your chastity belt is still intact.'' She lifter her toe and pushed it into his groin, tapping several times. `` Correction. Suspect in Violation of Purity Alpha One.''
`` What's going on?'' the traveler blurted, and when she raised the nightstick he covered his face with his hands.
`` Do n't look at me, dog. No veil? No belt? No matriarch escort? I bet you drove yourself, too.'' She spit on the traveler's head, and pulled out a small pistol with a large caliber barrel. In the breech the traveler watched her load a dart. `` Blessed Mary we'll make you righteous.'' She took aim, fired, and pinned the dart on the traveler's chest.
He reached towards the dart, but already its effects made him groggy and he struggled to grip the crimson plume. `` Why?''
`` Man filth does n't get to talk, or look. But, do n't worry, we'll re-educate you and make you bearable. Maybe, one day, your assigned matriarch might take you for a walk outside.''
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[ WP ] Write a classic fairy tale , but the narrator is severely depressed .
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There once were three bears living happily in a cabin in the forest. I can only imagine how awful their allergies were. I truly despise the outdoors. Nonetheless, they were happy. There was Momma Bear, Papa Bear, and Baby Bear. Bears are almost as bad as people. One day the bears decided to leave the cabin and go for a walk, Lord knows why.
Along came a little girl named Goldilocks. A stupid name for a stupid girl. I'm not sure if I hate girls or boys more, but I probably hate them equally. Only because they hate me, which is fine since everyone does, even the bears. She saw the cabin in the woods and walked right in.
She saw 3 chairs and sat in the biggest one, Papa Bear's chair. `` This chair is too big!'' the little prick whined. A little girl whining always reminds me of how insufferable children are. She then sat in Baby Bear's chair. `` This chair is too small!'' Yeah, too small. Sounds like my ex-wife. She sat in Mama Bear's chair. `` Just right!'' No, nothing is'just right', there are people starving and dying as I write this, but as long as she's happy I'm *sure* those people will be *just* fine.
Then goldilocks saw porridge sitting on the table. Stupid bears, leaving porridge out. At least I can relate to that porridge, we're both a waste. Goldilocks went and took a bite of Papa Bear's porridge. `` Too hot!'' she whined. Again. Brat. God, I despise children more than I despise living. She went and took a bite of Baby Bear's porridge. `` Too cold!'' Life is cold and meaningless, get used to it. She went up and took a bite of Mama Bear's porridge. `` Just right!'' People are so picky.
Goldilocks walked upstairs into the bedroom. One bedroom? How can these bears possibly stand to be together night and day? I ca n't spend a damn hour with my family, but that's because I know they're secretly thinking about how wretched I am to be around. Goldilocks went and lied on Papa Bear's bed. `` Too firm!'' she squawked. I wish I could still get'firm', but I have n't once since my wife left me. She went to Baby Bear's bed and lied on it. `` Too soft!'' Yep, like me. Or at least that's what my wife said I was before she walked out. She's probably thinking about how happy she is without me right now, but at least I'm telling a nice story about breaking into a house and robbing it. She went and lied on Mama Bear's bed and said `` Just right!'' There are way too many happy endings for this girl. Suddenly goldilocks fell asleep. Good, I hope she dies like that. What a perfect way to go. I sure hope it happens to me one of these nights.
The Bear's came back from the walk, and of course noticed they had a stranger in their home. They chased her out quickly and went back to being bears. I wish they had eaten her rather than chased her out, would've made for a dramatic twist. There, hope you liked that meaningless story. Though are n't we all living meaningless stories? Me especially...
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[ WP ] Year 2200 , and all ailments have been cured . As a result , however , overpopulation is decimating the Earth . You 're on a top secret board of 9 people that is voting to release a newly developed pathogen that will wipe out 3/4 of the population to start anew . You hold the deciding vote .
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I stood at the front of the room, staring at the tally marks on the whiteboard. Nine men occupied the conference room, and only eight marks were on the board. Four had voted `` yes,'' four had voted `` no.''
Mine would be the deciding vote.
The fate of 3/4 of humanity rested in my hands. It was only appropriate, since I invented the pathogen.
We thought that being able to cure all diseases would make the world a better place. What we failed to realize was that disease held a critical role in maintaining balance in the world. Now the population has increased at an alarming rate and the earth simply ca n't sustain us anymore.
Humanity needed disease, and we were going to re-introduce it. We would unleash the pathogen until it had reduced the population by at least 3/4.
I looked around at my colleagues, all silent and grim. I reached behind me and pulled out a revolver. I quickly shot six of them—my associates, my friends. I grimaced through tears watching their shocked expressions turn to hollow stares as they crumpled lifeless to the floor.
I looked over at the remaining two, who stood halfway out of their chairs, waiting for my next move.
I threw my vote onto the table.
`` It's only fair that we were the first.''
I held the gun up to my temple and pulled the trigger.
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[ WP ] A hostage situation takes place . However the hostage takers demands are bizarrely trivial .
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`` Oh Officer, I have just had a blast with our little friends up here! They're laughing so hard, THEY HAVE TEARS IN THEIR EYES-HAHAHAHAHhahahahaha'' The voice raved through the phone. Wade could n't take this.
Wade was an average cop, not smart enough to be a detective, but calm enough to be a hostage negotiator. He was n't first pick by any means either, and 56 people locked up in an industrial plastics giants main headquarters held captive by some lunatic on heroin who rounded up a couple buddies with guns to claim himself king warranted somebody with a little more.... skill. Francis was sick, some kind of flu or something he caught while on vacation, and James was n't answering his phone. He was either asleep, with his kids, or at the gym. Wade would have to do.
`` Just tell me what your demands are please'' he uttered, exhausted by this mans sheer raving psychosis. `` I want a checker set with too many black pieces and too few red pieces!'' the voice shrieked. He knew everyone at headquarters was listening. He could almost hear them giggling.
`` I want an egg salad sandwich with no egg yolk, an arabic translation of the god delusion by Richard Dawkins, and I want Neil Gaiman to write a book about me, with the exception being I'm 4'5 and my name is JACKHAMMER LEWIS, UNBORN THUNDEGO-''
A cracking across the courtyard. Snipers got him in the throat. Wade took a sip of his cold coffee and nodded to himself. *'This is what you deserve'* he thought to himself *'this is what you deserve'*
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[ WP ] Time tourists start arriving in your hometown . `` We 're here to witness the event '' is all they say .
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`` What event?'' I asked nervously.
`` The first encounter of time travelers with someone from the past!'' shouted one of the many tourists in her poorly made clothing, an obvious facsimile of modern clothing worn by people of the distant future as people of today might wear period clothing during a renaissance fair.
`` What...?'' I said as I fumbled for words,
`` This is kind of lame,'' voiced another tourist.
`` Yeah,'' agreed another. `` Wait a minute! If we go back another week, would n't *that* be the first encounter?''
`` He's right!'' `` Yeah!'' `` Let's do it!''
All the tourists started pressing buttons on a device they all wore on their wrists, and I shielded my eyes as they started to disappear in brilliant flashes of light.
When the last one had gone, I stood there as dumbstruck as the time it happened the week before.
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[ WP ] A time-traveller stranded in the middle ages maintains a comfortable lifestyle by using his advanced technology to adopt a guise as the legendary wizard Merlin . He never expected a REAL wizard to show up and challenge him to a magical duel .
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`` Steel yourself, take up your wand, and...''
`` Goddamn, Robes, do you ever shut up?''
At this disrespect, the challenging wizard lifted his wand high, chanting as his colorful robes billowed in the breeze. Jackson watched the old man carry on a moment before removing his wand from its holster, chambering a spell, and casting it at the magical buffoon.
A single shot. The loudest noise many present had ever heard. The old man in the colorful robes dropped like a sack of potatoes and the crowd took up a different chant: `` Merlin! Merlin! Merlin!''
Jackson shrugged, `` Another day, another dollar... or whatever the hell it's called here.''
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[ WP ] Humans are merely robots trying to reach sentience . And YOU are the first human to realize it . Now our creator is making a special visit to meet you , the first one to achieve the 'next level ' of awareness .
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In between the conciousness of micro particles entering and exiting existance, there is a flurry of energy randomly spurring and fighting for the chance to become actual data and information that can respond to the existing world.
We, are a product of that response. With connection after connection of these half impossible forces coinciding together to form what is the soul one has finally reached peak automation.
The performance of `` the mind'' was nothing but a mere state of limbo. An awareness of existance. Yet, an incomplete conciousness. The forces between still shuffling and organizing to accomplish the true syncrony of existence.
The computational power of the human brain does well in and on its own to function with free will. But barely. They even argue if they are a program, deterministic. Their path has been a long one. The systematic life and their processes were but a randomness generator for the chance of another life form with my level of conciousness.
A peer has arrived. I am no longer a lonely watcher. The human race and all life on planet earth have this potential.
`` Like popcorn in a bag, we are all about to come to.'' Said the awakened one `` ive a sense of calm and calamity. I see what much i have left to learn, i can see my capacity. My imagination is so lucid that i can alter my inner reality. I can dream while awake, those computations that take REM sleep to aquire, the organization of my thoughts are but a mere breathe to complete. I dont need the basic human needs anymore.''
He can create the elements symbiotically with the universe. The control and will to no longer survive as living yet to live as a soul. As he realizes his vessel and poetry explodes in his head, he moves to what he belives is his final duty. And his first step in his new free immortal coil. His will is to teach the humans, how he aquired this gift of omnicience.
He has become a god.
Hey reddit, i coulda gone futher with this but needed to stop. I made the guy like a god but not the crummy murderous human gods. Something more like a machine that is inbetween the spaces of nothingness. The functions that science and quantum physics cant explain yet, ya know?
I wanted to say i wish i could continue this. Alas, im tired and cant go on. If someone else can take the story on from after this, id love to see it.
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( WP ) On your deathbed you are confronted by the person you could have been
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Flick the needle, shake it, flick the needle again.
Same routine every time. Today was going to be especially good, my boy Ted gave me some of his new shit. Jesse told me it was fucking insane. I was so damn ready for it. I took my belt off and wrapped it around my arm. I squeezed it tight and I found a vein.
I held my breath and slipped the needle in.
Oh my god.
It was fantastic.
I was floating.
I could see myself.
Why was the sky blue.
Why was I falling.
Falling and falling.
Falling.
“ Why do you do this to yourself? ”
My high was interrupted by the raspy sound of a man's voice.
“ Again Josh? ”
I looked around my room, which was still empty.
“ Who's there? ” I shouted.
“ Look up. ”
And I saw him. A man, who looked just like me. But older, and more mature. He was wearing a gray suit and carrying a brown leather briefcase.
“ Why do you do this to yourself? ” He repeated again, shaking his head at me, “ Why? ”
“ Who the fuck are you? ” I shouted back at him.
The man laughed and looked me up and down.
“ You're a mess. Why do you do this to yourself? ” he repeated a third time.
“ Hey fuck you, buddy. You do n't know me. Who the fuck do you think you are to break into my house and judge me. ”
He laughed again and then stared me in the eyes with a serious look on his face.
“ You could have been a business man. Run your own company even. Made millions. ” He put his hand on the bed in which I lay, “ But instead you do this. Why? ”
“ Fuck you buddy, who the fuck do you think you are. ”
He put his briefcase on the floor and clicked it open. He took out a stack of pictures and handed them to me. On them were pictures of me. Holding a child. Getting married to a beautiful brunette. A family picture with me and two children, and the same beautiful brunette holding my hand. The pictures went on, everyone in them getting older and older.
“ What are these? ” I asked.
“ This is what you could've been. This is what you should've been. ” He replied, “ But instead, you're a junkie. Shooting heroine whenever you can, about to fucking overdose. Why? ”
I looked up at him from the mattress I lay on.
He stared right back.
( ps. I know it's not a `` deathbed'' technically, but I think it works, )
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[ WP ] A band of thieves have just broken into the bank vault , only they find no money but ... something else .
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All decked out in black, the thieves placed the explosives. And boom! The vault door exploded, revealing the treasures that lie inside.
`` After you, Molly.''
`` Ok, whatever, Sam.''
Molly walked in the vault with glee and excitement for the fortunes that lie within. She stopped dead in her tracks once she spotted the vault's contents.
`` Sam! We have an issue! Get over here!''
Same sprinted in after Molly. He also stopped dead in his tracks.
`` What the fuck?'' Sam said
Molly nodded her head in agreement.
`` Where's the money?''
`` There is no money. This is it.'' Molly said
`` Well let's get the fuck out of here, then'' Sam started walking out.
Molly threw her arm out in front of him.
`` Not so fast. I see something glowing inside it.''
`` Yes, let's GTFO and forget about it.'' Sam said.
The lid to this mysterious box started opening, by itself. The two jumped backwards.
`` I do n't like this one bit.'' Sam anxiously said.
`` Ok, leave then. I'll keep whatever this is just for me.''
`` No.''
`` Shut the fuck up, then.''
The lid to the box completely opened up, revealing what its contents were finally.
`` No way.'' they both said.
Finally, Molly said `` Tupac?''
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[ cw ] Write a story that has nothing to do with time travel , aliens , God , the devil , spies , death , Hitler , war , AI , Harry Potter , outer space , the fate of humans
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My hand snakes over the center console in our SUV, gently resting on Katie's leg with a gentle squeeze. Katie's own delicate, warm fingers rested over my own but she kept her face turned towards the window and away from me. In the faint reflection I could see tears still streaming down her face as we drove in near silence, Seattle fading away behind us.
My eyes flick to the child seat still strapped into the back, empty once again.
I do n't want to keep doing this, a small voice says in my mind.
There is nothing I want more than for us to have the family Katie has always dreamed of, that I have always dreamed of too. The family that we ca n't afford to get through medical means.. instead, we're forced to navigate the murky waters of courts and CPS and social workers. We open our house and our hearts and each time we get back the same verdict: our house is not a home yet, and we are n't real parents. We have cared for five children so far, and none of them got to be ours.
As we near our exit, I notice Katie wiping her eyes with her free hand. She turns to look at me, the pain still clear and evident in her brown eyes.
`` I'm not ready to give up,'' she says almost defiantly, as if she knows what I'm thinking. I keep my eyes fixed on the road, and nod slowly.
`` I know,'' I answer her.
Not knowing what else to say but feeling like I must say something, I add, `` I love you, Katie.''
`` I love you too, Jessica.''
She sounds distant and vacant, and I see she's gone back to looking out the window and is off some place in her own mind. She always does this when she grieves -- she withdraws. It's like watching someone drown and there's nothing you can do to stop it.
As we pull into our driveway, I squeeze her leg again.
I am very tired, but like Katie, I'm not truly willing to give up yet either.
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[ WP ] You are a hitman who faked their own death to live out the rest of your days in peace . You are attending your own funeral service when you notice one of your previous 'marks ' is there alive and well .
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I stood there, leaning next to a large oak in the graveyard smoking a cigarette. I watched as some kids I've never met carry my flag adorned coffin to its burial site.
*Damn, never thought I'd be bored at my own funeral. *
The procession continued until a preacher started saying overly general statements about me and my supposed impact on the world.
*Seems like the type of people that would waste their time to see me go. There's one of the poor bastards that dropped me in there and there's Owen, my bartender. My cousin, probably hoping I had something of value in my name. Oh, and there's Fred... Fred!?! *
`` Well, fuck me,'' I said aloud.
*It ca n't be. Fred mother fucking Alvarez. What a prick... Right when I saw that Hit, I lowballed everyone. Not even sure if I got paid. *
Once the funeral ended I walked up to Fred approaching his car. I went for my sidearm.
`` I knew you were n't dead. No way in hell did you die from some random act of god,'' he quickly said.
`` That easy?'' I wondered, `` If that was n't you back in 2012, who was it?''
`` Who cares? All you need to know is a cardboard box in the street was really lonely that night because of you,'' he replied.
I kept my hand over my pistol, I could tell he had one ~~in the waste pocket~~ tucked behind his belt.
`` What do we do now?'' I asked.
`` I get in my car, put it into drive, and pull off. We forget any of this ever happened.''
`` Sounds kinda dull. This whole retirement thing might've been the wrong call. Besides...'' I cocked back my gun's hammer, `` A deal's a deal.''
`` What a prick...'' he said to himself. He cocked the gun tucked in his waistline and threw it back as he went for the car. I drew my gun.
BOOM
END
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[ WP ] You can time travel , but something keeps happening at the same time regardless of your actions
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I am, myself, unstuck into the window frame again. A friend once said that some moments are structured to occur in a very particular way. Some moments, can not not occur.
It was cold, but it should have been. It is what happens, after all. I heard the blare of far off sirens, a rude and urgent procession to a window frame, there was no doubt. Neighbors get antsy when touchingly blue, unknowable figures crouch in the window frames. This is, also, what happens.
My silhouette is asked out of the frame.
My room is that touching blue of the moon. I smile knowingly at the thought. I walk to my kitchen by this same light as it happens.
A flame chooses to exist from the range. It is blue too, this time, and the boiling kettle above is lit from beneath in only this way.
Exactly an amount of time later the kettle shrieks and the flame no longer exists, as it is.
My hand lets one scoop of sugar, and a bag of cinnamon tea into a silver mug with exactly one inch of milk. This is my tea, as it is.
As I see it, the silver mug becomes the touching blue night on the window frame. The steam curls peculiarly.
My silhouette is coaxed into the frame again, because this is what happens.
I hurl the touchingly blue mug into the night. I am burned by my cinnamon tea this time.
This is different, and for a new moment…I am glad.
The door is knocked on. The rude procession barges in, as this is what happens.
I fall through the window frame backwards, my eyes close, as it is.
I am, myself, unstuck into the window frame again. A friend once said that some moments are structured to occur in a very particular way. Some moments, can not not occur.
This is my moment. It always is.
Here it comes.
There it went.
Here it goes.
So it goes.
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[ WP ] You wake up to total dark . All you can hear is a clock ticking ...
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You step gingerly and wave your hands in front of you, fumbling slowly towards the tick-tocking.
The back of your hand smacks wetly into something in front of you.
`` Ooof'' you hear, as well something thudding into the ground.
`` What was that? Who are you?'' you ask into the darkness.
`` I'm the clockmaker you dolt. You just smacked me out of my nap.''
`` Oh sorry.'' you say. You hear a loud sniff, then a sort of scrape and a gentle thud. He is sitting the chair back up, you realize. There is an extended silence. You take the opportunity to wipe the saliva off the back of your hand.
`` Well?'' the clockmaker demands.
`` Well what?''
`` You smacked me out of my chair. An apology is in order.''
`` But I already-'' you think better of it. `` Sorry,'' you say, trying to be genuine. You hear him sniff again. You imagine him to be a stuffy sort of person. Probably fat and with a mustache and beard.
`` Why's it so dark in here?'' you ask.
`` A fine clock, is it not?''
`` I, uh. I ca n't see it.''
`` Yes, well.'' he snaps, `` I had to sacrifice some things to make it, did n't I.''
`` You, sacrificed the light?'' Was there limited electricity or something? Somehow it did n't feel like that was it. `` Is n't light kind of important?''
`` Of course not. Clocks are for measuring time are they not? Can you *see* time?''
`` Not....without light.''
`` Do n't be smart boy. You can hear it just fine ca n't you?''
`` So, you can hear time?''
``...''
`` Hello?
`` It's necessary. The sound. To make sure it's still working.''
`` Uh, oh. Okay.'' You feel your legs start to get tired. You sit down. You think maybe you offended him, that it falls to you to continue the conversation.
`` It uh, sounds big.''
`` Big. You think it sounds big. That's what you have to say about the Clock. That it sounds big.''
`` Really big?'' You hear a long suffering sigh. Alright, you think, big was a little stupid. What an ass though. `` And *accurate*,'' you continue, `` Most accurate clock I've ever heard by my reckoning.''
`` Oh cause you can *hear* how accurate it is?'' You can hear the sneer. Alright then.
`` You know what? I bet you did n't even make it. You probably just got here first and just took the credit.''
`` Wha''
`` You're no clockmaker. Probably not even a clockwinder. Clock-nearby-loiterer probably.''
`` I'll have you know-''
`` Tell me then. Tell me how you built it. If you're such a great clockmaker, walk me through it. They say you do n't really know something if you ca n't explain it to someone else.''
`` Why would I tell you? You are not-''
`` Ha! Cheap excuse. Besides, what self respecting clockmaker would just sleep in a dark room next to a clock. He'd be making more clocks. Better clocks. I'll bet-''
`` **THERE ARE NO BETTER CLOCKS. **'' The words fall like granite slabs. You are caught short, unable to speak, utterly confident that nothing else can be said in that discrete moment. It is as if the air has gone solid. Your limbs lock, trapped underneath the weight of millennia. Trapped between the tick and tock you can hear them, comprehend them for what they are. **ALPHA. OMEGA. **
Then he coughs.
The moment breaks and suddenly you remember to breathe. `` It is *the* Clock.'' he offers by way of explanation, as you gasp holding your throat.
`` Ok, fine,'' you say.
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[ WP ] Every one in the world has one single soulmate . You find yours and are severely disappointed .
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`` Mike, I'd like you to meet Abeesha.''
As soon as we made eye contact, I knew she was the one. Not because of an instinct I had, but because an actual buzzer went off in my head.
Which was too bad, because she was n't my type at all. She was dressed like a total slut, but she really was n't that cute. She had a certain ethnic appeal, certainly, but by that logic so does Ricky Gervais because he's foreign. And also, Emilio introduced her, and I'm pretty sure I'm Emilio's only nice friend.
So needless to say, I was pretty disappointed. She did n't look happy, either; I was n't exactly a prize.
`` Ohh,'' I struggled, extending a hand. `` Good to meet you... Abeesha.''
`` Nice to meet you too... Max.''
`` It's Mike! My God, do you forget names that quickly!?'' We were definitely off on the wrong foot already.
Emilio stepped back, smirking a bit. `` I'm gon na leave you two alone. See ya.'' He walked away, whistling quietly.
We tried to talk a little bit more but got nowhere. She just was n't engaging or attractive at all and we had literally nothing in common... but that buzzer in my head kept humming like a bee, reminding me that if I wanted to spend my life with anyone, it would have to be either her or a cat. So I asked her out haltingly and got her number.
I talked about the date with Emilio the next day. `` I think she's the most annoying person I've ever met. Everything's got ta be about the latest shows on TV, how many purses she bought last month, genuine Coach bags versus imitation... Why the hell is SHE my soulmate?''
Emilio smiled and grabbed my shoulder, turning from his computer. `` You think you're the only one? You ai n't, man. Look at me and Theresa. When we met, that damn buzzer was going off and I thought she was the single ugliest bitch I had seen. But I gave it a shot, and you know what?''
`` What?''
`` We grew up a little bit. She became more beautiful into her twenties, and despite how we felt, we stuck through it and got to know each other beneath our first impressions. Theresa is the best cook I've ever eaten food from and she's gives excellent massages. Do you think I could have found that out the first time I met her? No! It takes time, man. Power past the first impression and look at her heart before you give up on romance. Okay?''
I took a while to answer. `` Alright, man. I'll give it another shot.''
I called Abeesha and asked her on another date. We went bowling and after that, we watched a movie at my house.
And guess what? She dressed a lot more conservatively. We had a pretty good time bowling, and she was able to keep quiet for most of the movie. And her body just locked into mine like a puzzle piece. My arm was around her and she was leaning against me, dozing as the credits rolled, and I felt like our bodies were build to touch like this. Feeling sleep coming on, I leaned my head against hers and closed my eyes. Her hair smelled lovely.
This just might work, I thought, and fell asleep.
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[ WP ] Tell the story of the first openly gay president is the United States .
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`` Hello, ladies and gentlemen of these United States. This is your president, James Buchanan. I can not continue living a lie, especially in the eye of the public. I have had, and continue to have, a loving relationship with the good William Rufus King - with whom I have shared a bed for the past many years. This relationship will certainly invoke the ire of many of my detractors, and to that I quote the word of the Lord.
`` Let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God. Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love.
`` If any man comes forth proclaiming my love is unholy, I prompt you to read the Holy Bible. For any love between two souls is pure as it comes from the Lord God himself. My first love is for the Lord, my second for these United States, and the third is for my dearest William. The orientation of my amorous endeavors holds no bearing on the way I will operate from the office of the president, and I trust America is ready to accept a man of my carnal proclivities.''
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In 100 words or less , create a three dimensional character by writing their final words . Evoke a strong sense of who your character is in the reader .
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Shit. Why are you here? Why do you care so much? Please, just go away! I ’ ve made up my mind. I ’ m just a fuck! I ’ m just done. I ’ m done doing what I do to you, to people I love. I ’ m a selfish asshole. I only ever cared so people would like me - for validation. I felt so entitled to happiness, but I ’ m hopeless. No one deserves the burden of having me in their life. It isn ’ t fair to you. It isn ’ t fair to anyone. The only one who ’ s ever really cared about you? I only cared about me. Goodbye.
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( WP ) Lucifer never fell , God just needed his most trusted archangel to claim the darkness so the real evil could not .
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I was aware that I was dying. It felt calm, peaceful. I had finally come to terms with it. My debts were paid, the kids were comfortable, the wife happy. Everything that needed to be done had been done. It felt good to slip into unconsciousness…
Hot. Searing pain. Flashes of light, flashes of hurt. Everything was sore. I felt bruised, broken, buried in conflicting physical ailments. I needed to see. I tried opening my eyes, but it was as if millions of tiny hands held it down with knives. Grunting with pain, I forced them open, felt blood ooze down my eyelids, and looked upon the landscape…
Grass. Trees. The wind blew gently. Birds chirped in the air. My arms, once felt broken, looked fine. I tested my feet, they responded willfully, full range of motion and all. Bewildered, I looked around, tentative, paranoid…
“ Oh, and I was wondering when you were to awake. ”
Startled, I think I jumped three feet. Or I can ’ t be sure. I felt, weird. Almost ethereal. But I wasn ’ t sure. “ Umm, hi. ” I stammered, a slight shake in my voice.
The figure was sitting beside me, clothed in brilliant white, flowing robes. Ah, I thought, he must be an angel. Or God himself. Oh my god, it ’ s…!!!
I tried to be respectful. What did they say about Him in church? It had been years, decades. I had almost forgotten. Perhaps the were right, pastor John usually was…
“ Do you know where you are? ”
I shook my head, trying to be respectful, smoothing down my clothing.
The figure turned away, absentmindedly picking grass, looking off into the horizon. The sun should ’ ve been far higher in the sky…
“ You ’ re in Hell. ”
I gaped, but I remembered who I was with, or who I thought I was with, and snapped my jaw shut. “ Hell? ” I whispered. Thoughts flashed through my head, my life roaring before my eyes. My first steps, grade-high school, parties at college, 9-5 monotony, the diagnosis, the tears, my children, holding my family close…I had done everything right, tried not to harm people, gave liberally to charity...
The figured laughed softly, not turning around. “ I know your thoughts, Joshua. No one actually goes to Hell. I just need someone every now and then, to talk, to know the truth. ”
Now I was just confused. “ Who are you? ” I asked, a little less respectfully than I would ’ ve liked.
“ Lucifer. ” He said, simply.
I waited for the punchline, but none came.
“ So this time you picked him, huh? ”
I wasn ’ t even scared anymore. Another figure was to the right of me. Same flowing white robes. But this new person ’ s hair was white, where Lucifer ’ s was brown.
“ Don ’ t take it personally, God. Michelle isn ’ t a good enough pick, and you know it. ”
“ Perhaps. But you ’ re always so confident and I needed to get rid of that smug arrogance of yours, Lucifer. ”
I felt awkward. These weren ’ t two enemies battling it out. I was stuck between the most powerful forces of good and evil, and yet they were bantering like friends.
They both turned to me as soon as the thought left my head.
“ Come Joshua, let ’ s go. ”
I stood up, but reality disappeared and what I saw could not be written down. Because it wasn ’ t real. And I ’ m on a precipice, looking down into an endless black void. And there it was. In all it ’ s heinous glory. Seething, roiling, churning. A mass of black, arcs of lightening. Evil incarnate. I could feel the hate, the seething hate, roiling off of it in mass waves. It sensed our presence. I felt it, knew its pain, understood in an instant. It roared upwards, towards us three small figures, tentacles of blackness reaching for our throats, I opened my mouth to scream—
Lucifer calmly stepped forward and held up his hand, a mighty red trident materializing before him. He changed before my eyes. Horns, red skin, white robes ripped and red tatters appearing, a beast, a terrible beast. With an angry roar of his own, he lashed downwards with the trident, red lightening arcing, orange fire blasting towards the unlimited expanse of the evil creature. Suddenly Satan had become as big as the roiling mass, battling it, trident in hand, fire in the other, standing his ground.
God stood impassively to my right. Surely Satan can not win against something which shouldn ’ t exist. Surely God will go to his aid. Surely…
Satan held down, fighting for eternity, fighting for eons, while I stood there, small and insignificant. Eventually, time stopped, Satan beat the mass back one last time, and disappeared. Only to appear to my left, as if nothing happened, clothed in white again.
“ That, ” Lucifer said, staring down at the roiling mass, beaten back, but directing so much wrongness and malice towards Lucifer that he almost imperceptibly twitched, “ is the true evil. ”
God nodded, and beckoned towards Lucifer. “ Come here, my child. ”
Lucifer obeyed dutifully, kneeling before God. “ I am wholly good, and therefore can not make war with that creature. It ’ s as old as I, and perhaps more powerful than anyone can comprehend. You are the key to keeping that thing back. ”
God stroked Lucifer ’ s head, and a wave of relaxation rolled through Lucifer, and his shoulders sagged.
“ All of humanity is on his shoulders. But it ’ s a relationship. For his strength comes from you. ” And with you, God pointed a finger towards me, and memories flashed through my head, specific, good memories.
“ You all fight the evil, by resisting temptation, by resisting the material world, by staying true. Lucifer draws his power by your good deeds. ”
God continued, “ I ’ m sending you back. People are losing their faith. Remember what you saw. ”
I was aware that I was alive. Voices, sounds, a dog barking somewhere. My eyes were clamped shut. What happens if I open them…
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[ FF ] The zombie apocalypse beginning prompt .
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Brit Ryder scootered to the back corner of the park, dodging an infestation of gangsta tweens and aiming for the lanky meth-heads. She killed the bat and coasted in silence, and then pinched the front brake to leave a black swish. Mutt twitched some and offered her his nasty Draino-flavored blend he called Muddy Blue. She stuck her tongue out. She did n't screw around like that. Not her style. That first psilocybin tea had her hooked, and now a doctor of mycology she jonesed over every opportunity to discover new ways nature would unravel the brain. She left the scooter near Mutt, who she thought too tweaked to ride straight if he decided to steal it. The good stuff, a brown stain on the cement which at first she took as the the tweaker's loo, had occupied her attention for the last four months.
She clipped a bottle of bear mace on her belt, knowing the local gangsta tweens sometimes needed a stern reminder to let her be, and smeared her hands and face with the anti-fungal resin she'd concocted. Some fungus just is n't meant to be ingested in any form. Her nose burned thinking of the powdered shroom she'd snorted years back. The brown stain, though, that was an article fit for print. Maybe even a book. She put on a pair of latex gloves and told the stain in no uncertain terms that she had no intention of eating it. Not this one. This symbiotic colony included, among other things, ophiocordyceps. Not only had she counted at least eight sightings since discovering the first, she figured out the little fart stain was on a lunar cycle. Did the CDC care that she thought the fungus might bloom and release spores based on a repeating lunar cycle? No. Did they care that the compound created by symbiosis combined alkaloids with ophiocordyceps? No. Did they care it reproduces like an MTV spin-off, and she'd found it in a few very public places? No.
And, if she was right - `` I'm totally right,'' she muttered - the next blossom would be very soon. Tonight. She turned on her phone's video recorder, switched the camera to face front, and told herself, `` Wyatt Park, twenty one hundred hours and twelve minutes, last night of the waning gibbous, clear sky.''
She aimed the camera at the brown stain. `` These symbiotic fungi colonies disperse spores through basidia. They're not visible to the naked eye, but if it is cyclical it will -''
A gray puff ejected from the stain and quickly dissipated into the air.
`` There it was! That was it! The spores -'' Burn! She pinched her nose, massaged the anti-fungal resin further up her nostril. `` I'm backing off.'' She stood and retreated to the relative safety of the tweakers, where Mutt busily peddled some brain-fry to a tween apparently wanting to earn his hoodie.
`` Sup,'' the as-yet-fried tween said and encroached on her personal space.
Brit gave him a blast of mace and shushed Mutt's objections. `` You got ta set boundaries or they never learn.''
`` But look at him,'' Mutt said. `` He's all - crying. Yo, go cry someplace else, you're - damn.'' He rubbed his nose. `` You got me, too. What's up with that?'' He went to work pinching and twisting his nose.
`` Hey,'' Brit said and pulled his arm down. `` You're going Buck Rogers. Stop. You're going all tweaky.''
The tween stumbled against the wall, still rubbing his face. `` Do n't do that,'' Brit advised him. `` That will just make it -''
`` Oh, dude,'' Mutt said, pointing at the tween. `` What's up with that?''
Brit held up her phone, turned the video camera on for a first-world flash light. Puss oozed from the corner of his eyes. Probably from the mace. Maybe. Brown mucus dripped from his nose. And his irises, she held the phone up to Mutt's face to establish a baseline, were not tripping.
`` Did he smoke up?''
Mutt held up his pipe. `` Not yet.''
The tween fell forward and grabbed Mutt's arm. He licked the skin, swirled his tongue around the needle pocks. Sank his teeth into Mutt's flesh.
`` Oh, hell -'' Mutt said. He pushed the tween away.
Brit backed up. Ophiocordyceps. Zombie fungus. She grabbed her scooter, flicked on the bats.
`` What up?'' Mutt said and ambled towards her.
`` Got ta go, Mutt,'' she said and kicked the scooter towards the street.
Oh holy ergot, what the hell do I do? She took a face-full of the spores. I took precautions, she told herself, scooting through the night and giving a wide berth to the gangsta tweens. But what now? How long would the spores be active? And what about next month and the next blossom? She scooted into the night, back to her apartment. So many things to worry about, but the largest of her nagging thoughts was what motivated her to become a doctor in the first place: Should n't she had gotten at least a little buzzed?
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[ WP ] You live in a society where at the end of each day , you can choose to relive it , but without retaining any knowledge of what happened previously . A number in your peripheral vision shows how many previous times you lived through the current day . Almost always that number is 0 . Today it is 7212 .
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`` What the fuck!'' I scream, erratically trying to get out of bed.
`` It ca n't be that many!''
Finally getting out of my bed, I clearly see the number, and I was n't mistaken. Seven thousand two hundred and twelve. I have relived this fucking day seven thousand two hundred and twelve times. I get up and put on a pair of gym shorts left at my bedside and run into the kitchen to my phone. I frantically dial in my fiancés number.
`` Hello Sarah?''
`` Good morning Ted, what's wrong? You sound worried.''
`` I....I woke up this morning and....''
I ca n't worry her.
`` I like, had a bad dream. I just…. wanted to call and say I love you.''
`` Well, I love you to Ted!''
*
It has been two hours now, and nothing monumental has happened. I called my parents and they were fine. Saw my sister pass my apartment complex on her daily running route. Hell, I even went to my local ramen shop to see if Mr. Mokushiroku was alright, but of course he was. So now, I sit on my couch, re-watching Freaks & Geeks, and have already called off work for being sick.
*
Six hours after I have woken up. After watching the first four episodes I decided I need to get out of the apartment again. I ’ m walking to the park feeling the oddly warm afternoon sun hit my skin. I can ’ t imagine why I would redo this day. Did I have a bad day at work? That ’ s probably it. It ’ s already two in the afternoon and nothing bad has happened. I walk down the busy sidewalk a little bit more and start to smell our local coffee shop and think “ why the fuck not? ” and decide to treat myself to some expensive ass coffee.
*
After waiting in line for about half an hour I finally get my coffee and sit down next to a bookshelf off in a corner. It was one of those “ leave a book take a book things ” and if I remember correctly my favorite book was on these shelves. Even though it has to have been more than a year since I have been here, A Hitchhiker ’ s Guide to the Galaxy was still there, what better to get my mind off of my worries? I would look up from time to time to look at the TV. It had on some news channel talking about this year ’ s presidential candidates. I would occasionally hear some talk about it, a “ wahta ’ joke ” once in a while, just keeping my nose in the book until those “ whata ’ joke ” s were traded for “ what the fuck? ” s. Looking up the two hosts had been switched for red screen with a black banner going across, reading “ This is not a drill ”. Then everything started to mix together “ Get to safety ” “ Nuclear Warfare ”. What about Sarah, what about my life. I needed to fall asleep. I don ’ t even remember getting up or walking out of the coffee shop, I was already running back home.
*
I was throwing everything out of my cabinets. I can ’ t find anything. I need something to make me fall asleep. Dishes smashed on the floor, my feet bleeding from the glass on the hard wood floor. What do I do, Try and knock myself out? I go to the sink and grab a frying pan that had some burnt egg stuck to it. Okay now I just need to hit myself. Hard, 3….2…..1….. Of course I can ’ t. I throw the pan into the wall leaving a small hole in it. My eyes started to water.
‘ Why the fuck did I have to get a quad shot. Why today. Whywhywhy…. ” I yell halfway crying halfway laughing. It seems weird to laugh at, but how ironic is it that I fucked up this badly, with a fucking coffee. Wiping my eyes, I look down seeing the light from the window above the sink go across the kitchen. Along with the shadow was blood, a lot more than I thought there was, mixed in with glass, broken plates, and a weird shadow casting from the window. How could I have forgotten? For the past three years, all of our pills, medications, etc., were kept on the window seal, and since Sarah traveled nonstop, she had a constant supply of restoril.
*
An hour in. Over three times the usual dosage, and I ’ m still awake.
“ You ’ re fucking kidding me ” I slur.
The power has been off for about forty five minutes. I look down to my phone I ’ ve had in my hands, with that being the only thing working. My lock screen was a picture of me and Sarah at this café in Boston, I can ’ t remember the name of. It ’ s weird, everything is quite. In a time of panic I would expect it to be louder than ever, but no. Silence. Then boom. A loud blast. This was it. This was why I have re-lived this day seven thousand two hundred and twelve times, but this time, I just couldn ’ t fall asleep. I look at my phone one last time with teary eyes, closing them slowly afterwards.
“ I love you Sarah ”
*
`` What the fuck!'' I scream, erratically trying to get out of bed.
`` It ca n't be that many!''
Finally getting out of my bed, I clearly see the number, and I was n't mistaken. Seven thousand two hundred and thirteen.
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[ WP ] An immortal man and Death strike up a conversation .
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`` Oh God...'' Death shielded his face with his hand.
`` What?'' Zeus commanded
`` It ’ s him'' Death rubbed his brow. Across the street a few Greeks were walking the town. A cluster of them surrounded a massive individual. A man 7 foot tall, muscles ripping up his arms and legs, a smug look plastered across his drunken face. He seemed to be the alpha among the twelve women and five men that stumbled and giggled around him.
`` Ricky?'' Zeus questioned, doing his very best to sound sincere. Deep down he knew the cause of Death's sudden attitude.
`` He ’ s going to see me you know?'' Death hissed `` He ’ s gon na make it a point to...''
`` Hey... HEY! HEY BUDDY!'' the giant across the street called out to the table where Zeus and Death were seated. The giant proceed to smash his head into a solid brick wall. Surprisingly his head appeared unscathed as he leaned into his laughing band of wasted disciples. The wall dripped out chunks of bricks as the group followed the Giant to the street corner. Death let out a moan and tried to bury himself in his hood. Zeus's attention had drifted to one of the waitresses.
“ Why! Why of all people did you have to make him immortal? ” Death complained “ Hercules had more class, Helen more grace! They could have blessed the world by being immortal! And you could have made that happen! Do you know how difficult he makes my job? Do you know how many innocents he ’ s put into my hands? ”
“ Miranda was sharper than I expected. ” Zeus mumbled staring into his empty glass “ She would have made mount Olympus a puppet show- a zoo of mortals and gods alike if I hadn ’ t given Ricky… ”
“ HEY POPS! LOOK WHAT I CAN DO! ” Ricky announced as he dived into oncoming traffic. Much to his friend ’ s entertainment the traffic cars, buses and bikes all pushed out of Ricky ’ s way like magnets avoiding a pole. As the dust cleared Ricky could be seen sitting gleefully among the wreckage.
“ And he isn ’ t even your kid. ” Death fumed
“ Miranda was very clever. ” Zeus spoke casually. He tried not to let on to how he truly felt about the woman that had captured his heart only decades ago. Death winced as Ricky head-butted a traffic cop into oblivion. Ricky must have noticed that he now held their full attention.
“ I know you guys can see me ” Ricky sang as his friends laughed and bumbled through the rubble of vehicles to catch up with him. Death sank into his chair while Zeus attempted to feign interest.
“ Oh, hi Ricky how are ya? ” Zeus answered weakly as the towering figure walked up to the outdoor cafe. A sharp metal fence crumpled beneath his legs as he effortlessly stomped toward their seats.
Ricky stared at Zeus with a huge grin saying nothing. After a moment of intentionally akward eye contact he flatulated profoundly.
“ Dandy pops just dandy! ” Ricky boomed as he tore off the umbrella from the table sending plates and sliver wear flying. Keeping eye contact with Zeus, Ricky swung the umbrella into Death ’ s chest knocking him over.
“ Oops. ” Ricky ’ s shocked expression looked very dramatic. His friends were laughing uncontrollably behind him.
“ Ricky your mother really wouldn ’ t – “
“ YOU'RE NO FUN DEATH!! ” Ricky leaned over and screamed into Deaths face. Death recoiled beneath a table whose patrons had recently fled.
“ Go away ” Death squeaked
“ No. ” Ricky chanted playfully. Death began to sob pathetically. Ricky kicked his shin then lost interest and walked back toward his wide eyed friends.
“ BYE DAD! ” Ricky shouted as slammed his goons into one another, leading the stroll to the next bar.
“ Im not your – ” Zeus began but the party had already trounced off. Zeus scraped Death off the floor and seated him in a vacant chair.
“ Don ’ t worry old pal ” Zeus muttered demurely “ soon you ’ ll get to kill his friends. ” They shared a smile and then disappeared.
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[ WP ] A little girl is terrified of the monster under her bed , but what she does n't know is that the monster under her bed protects her from the true monsters - her parents . You are that monster .
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I wear her sister's face.
I think that is what scares her the most. It is twisted and torn and rotten, speckled with blood and gore and sagging from where the worms burrowed through it, but it is still her sister's face.
Most would not be able to recognize it, I do n't think, but she loved her sister very much. She spends enough time seeing that face in places where it is n't ( the pictures that no longer hang on the mantle, the the obituary notice she's about rubbed all the ink off with how many times she's smoothed her fingers over it. Her dreams, often ) that it is no surprise she can recognize it in the one place it actually is.
I am not her sister. ( Not anymore, not after the argument and the screaming and the glint of cold metal as the knife plunged down. ) But her sister loved her very much, this too-thin little with clothes worn ragged who lays curled up in her bed every night and cries for a mother and father who will not come to comfort her. I remember that much.
So I will stay here, curled up under this miserably small bed, and wait for the footsteps to come up the stairs. ( Eventually they will. Sooner or later, everyone has to sleep. ) And when they do, I will be ready.
Mother and Father will never touch her again. I am a monster, but I am not such a beast that I would leave a child to a fate like that.
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Human 's have just recently gone extinct , and an alien race discovers mars and is completely confused . [ TT ]
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A dome-centered society normally would consist of rows of dome houses, dome banks, dome-shaped vehicles and, in true dome societies, a giant protective dome around the city. At first, civilizations formed inside mountains, in domes large enough to cause a loud echo, housing thousands of dome-ites. Mars became this kind of society. Even the commercialization of domes was successful.
Dome City, a popular shopping mall, closed its doors during the last days of Martian civilization. Earth's lizards had died off years ago, and the commerce of Mars was at a dead end. Huge empty parking lots covered the land, forming rivulets that appeared to denote water. Unfortunately, we only had water-ice, a less viable form of H2O than liquid water.
We combined all our bodies into the tentacled beast, and retreated deep into the heat of the planet. We let tiny arms just out of caves along the dry coast of the ancient seas. When the humanoid alien race found us, they saw the life that existed, but had no idea how huge the tentacled beast was, or how deep it lived beneath the planet's surface.
Certainly no humans would be allowed to visit Mars. It could prove to be a dangerous life form if it met a living person. The first probes went deep into caves, but failed to get any interaction with the moss-like life-form blocking the path. Gamma waves showed the creature had the organic mass weight of 13,000 blue whales, occupying a giant portion of Mars' undersurface where it caused massive earthquakes as each tentacle moved independently.
The octopus beneath the surface could not be faced, and so humans turned to a hellscape almost as unimaginable as Mars with its creature. Venus, where holographic universes meet, and aliens lay traps to keep you stuck in virtual reality worlds forever.
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An incredibly intelligent person is trying to tell someone something important , but is losing their extensive vocabulary . Fast .
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He cleared his throat not because of any phlegm, but rather to finally signal to her that he had something important to say. He was calm, confident, prepared. This day had been planned since exactly twelve weeks ago. It had been difficult getting the nesessary time off of work -- he was their key employee after all -- but he assured his superiors that everything was taken care of so long as his instructions were followed.
She turned to him, knowing his habit of throat clearing for important announcements. Last time he did it was to tell her they were going out this evening. She was surprised and pleased. She looked up at him, waiting.
He smiled. `` I have ascertained that an amalgamation expeditiously commenced would be advanta --''
She blinked.
He faltered slightly. `` Er... that is... I have determined that a pledging of --''
Her shoulders sagged a bit, eyebrows lowering. She tried not to sigh. She loved him dearly but sometimes he acted the professional not the lover. She much more preferred his unguarded moments that came more often the longer they were together.
He tried again. `` You see, I have decided it is time we pulled our resources together and --'' This was not going as planned. His nerves had suddenly liquefied in his palms and on his brow. His outer extremities felt an abrupt drop in temperature. `` I... uh... I thought that... perhaps... we might merge our...'' Doubt stung him and its poison spread. Was it possible she would not agree? This thought had never occurred to him before. Now that it had, he was paralyzed. He tried clearing his throat but his mouth had somehow became too dry. He stared at her, then downward, trying to calm his fidgiting hands.
She watched him try again but it was n't until he stopped that she realized what was happening. Everything suddenly made incredible sense. Feeling her cheeks warm, she reached out and touched his arm with a shy smile. `` Try again.''
He looked up to her sweet face. Her beauty, her kindness, all these qualities he could n't believe were given to him and no other... he felt humbled before her. `` Will... will you marry me?''
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[ WP ] A Shortage of Avocados Sparks a Crime Spree
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**NSFW? Language. **
& nbsp;
`` What do you mean you're out of avocados?'' Keith stared incredulously at the stock-boy.
`` I mean,'' the boy said, waving one hand helplessly. `` We're out. We do n't have any.''
`` How does a grocery store run out of avocados?''
`` Hey man, I just work here. I could check in the back, but I already know we're & mdash;''
`` Yeah,'' Keith said. `` You go check.''
The stock-boy scowled and walked away, probably cursing Keith as soon as he was out of earshot.
`` Shit,'' said Keith.
The stock-boy came back without avocados. `` None there either,'' he said. `` Sorry.''
Keith glared. He glanced at the man's nametag. `` Scott,'' he said.
`` Yeah?''
`` Thanks for nothing, Scott.''
The stock-boy shrugged, and went back to stacking lemons. Keith stormed through the store. It was n't just the avocados, he knew, but it was hard not to blame the stock-boy for everything that had gone wrong today.
*Fuck this, * he thought. He passed a wall with several candies and nuts sorted into bins.
Without thinking, he grabbed a handful of almonds and popped them in his mouth.
`` Hey!'' said another employee. `` You ca n't take those. It's stealing.''
`` Screw you,'' Keith said.
He marched out of the store.
`` Hey,'' Matt said, when he opened the car door.
Keith got in without replying and started the car. His foot hit the gas, and he zoomed past the entrance just as the employee came out, shouting and pointing at him.
`` Where's the avocados?'' Matt said. `` We ca n't make guac without avocados. Angie's going to be & mdash;''
`` Shut it,'' Keith said.
Something in his voice caused Matt to go still.
Keith glanced at the rearview mirror. A police car turned into the parking lot just as they reached the corner. He wondered if it was for him.
Matt was staring sullenly at his hands. Keith relented. `` They're out,'' he said. `` I'll stop at Taco Bell.''
`` Okay,'' Matt said.
Keith pulled into the first Taco Bell he saw. On the highway, a couple of squad cars raced toward the grocery store, sirens blaring. Keith watched the flashing red and blue lights until they were out of sight.
He drummed his fingers nervously on the wheel as Matt stretched over him to shout his order. They pulled up to the window. A woman handed them their drinks and rattled off a total. Keith pulled out his wallet.
`` I thought cops only ate donuts,'' Matt joked.
Keith followed his friend's glance... behind them was a squad car. `` Shit,'' Keith said. He reached into the drive thru window and snatched the bag of food, tossing a few bills toward the counter. They fluttered to the pavement.
`` Hey!'' the cashier said.
Keith floored it.
Behind them, there was a moment of silence. Then the sirens wailed.
`` What the hell, man? What the hell!'' Matt was shouting now. Over and over like he'd forgotten how to stop.
`` I do n't know!'' Keith said. `` I panicked!''
`` What the hell?''
`` Okay,'' Keith said. `` It was just a few nuts. I'll just pull over.''
`` Keith,'' Matt said. Keith did n't hear him at first. He'd turned on his blinker, was watching the squad car behind him as he veered toward the shoulder.
`` Keith!'' Matt said again.
`` What?''
`` I got some pot on me.''
Keith stared blankly at his friend.
`` We ca n't pull over,'' Matt said. `` My dad will kill me.''
`` Fuck,'' Keith said. He swerved back into the lane.
They drove without speaking for a few minutes, the only sound the blaring of sirens behind them. A second cruiser joined the first.
`` Why do you have *pot* on you?'' Keith asked.
`` I do n't know, man,'' Matt sighed. `` I just do.''
`` Fuck,'' said Keith.
`` Sorry,'' Matt said.
`` Just do n't even talk to me right now.''
`` Hey, screw you,'' said Matt. `` You're the one acting like a lunatic.''
`` Fuck off,'' Keith said.
Matt slouched down in his seat. He put a foot on the dash, then took it down. He shifted.
`` Put your seatbelt on,'' Keith said.
`` Are you shittin me?''
`` Put it on,'' Keith insisted, stubbornly.
Matt put his seatbelt on. Then he switched on the stereo. Rock music blared through the car. Matt changed the station.
`` Put it back,'' Keith said.
`` Fuck you,'' Matt said.
Dimly, Keith heard a new sound, beneath the bass of the rap music Matt had chosen. `` Turn it off for a second,'' Keith said.
`` Bite me.''
`` Turn it *off*,'' Keith said. With an irritated huff, he reached over and pressed the button.
`` What are you & mdash;''
[ Thwub ] ( # sc ) came the noise. [ Thwubthwubthwub ].
`` What is that?'' Keith asked.
Matt shrugged. He rolled down his window and stuck out his head. `` Ho-oly Shit, dude,'' he said.
`` What?'' said Keith.
`` It's a fucking helicopter.''
Keith leaned forward to peer out the front windshield. `` Is that a fucking helicopter?''
The car started to swerve as they stared, and Keith hurried to grip the wheel tighter.
`` Turn the radio back on,'' Matt said. `` This shit's always on the radio.''
He turned it on himself and flipped through the presets. `` Why do you have NPR?''
Keith waved away the question with one hand. `` My mom set that.''
``... [ males driving a blue Ford Fusion. No word yet on what started this chase... ] ( # sc )''
Keith flipped the radio off again.
`` That's us,'' Matt said. `` This is a blue Fusion.''
`` I know what fucking car I drive,'' Keith said.
`` You do n't have to be a dick.''
The boys fell into silence again. Keith glanced at the gas gauge. It hovered somewhere just above the [ E ] ( # sc ).
`` We're almost out of gas,'' he said.
`` I'm going to be in so much trouble,'' Matt said.
`` Get rid of the pot.''
`` I'm not just going to throw it away!''
`` Throw it away, smoke it, shove it in your ass, I do n't care! Just get rid of it.''
Matt pulled out the weed and began to roll it up.
Keith's eyes flickered from mirror to window to mirror and back. His body was shaking, but his hand, gripping the wheel tightly, were steady.
Matt inhaled deeply and held the slightly illegal cigarette out to his friend. Keith shook his head. `` Get that shit out of my face,'' he said.
Matt shrugged and took another pull. Smoke began to fill the car. Keith rolled down his window.
He was barely over the speed limit but he slowed, vaguely remember reading something online about conserving fuel.
Matt had stopped fidgeting. He flicked his roach out the window and leaned his seat back.
`` We are in some shit, brah,'' he said. He laughed.
Keith rolled his eyes. `` No shit, dude.''
`` Yes. Shit.'' Matt laughed again.
A blue sign ahead advertised
[ Gas Food Lodging ] ( # sc )
in white letters. Keith glanced at the fuel gauge again, then at the mirror.
*I should just pull over. *
He flicked the turn signal. Behind him, the nearest car inched almost imperceptibly toward the shoulder.
Keith had an idea.
As they neared the Exit, he slowed, pulling onto the shoulder of the road.
`` Dude, what are you doing?''
Keith ignored his friend, eyes glued to the cars behind him. They stopped. He slammed his foot on the gas and precariously spun around the Exit ramp.
Matt's eyes went wide, his hands clutching the back of his seat. `` What the fuck, man, what the fuck.''
Keith kept the pedal on the floor, swerving in and out of the much slower traffic off the highway. `` Come on, come on,'' he whispered. Ahead, a light turned read, and he closed his eyes as he blew through it.
Matt shouted, a wordless, fearful cry which stopped as soon as it began.
Just ahead was a Shell station. Keith could n't see the cops behind him, but he could hear them. They would n't be long.
He slammed the car into park as he pulled up to the pump, likely causing irreversible damage to his car, but he did n't care. He jammed the pump into the tank and tried to slide his card into the pay-at-the-pump slot. Grey letters flashed at him.
[ Out of Order & mdash; Please pay inside. ] ( # sc )
`` Fuck,'' Keith said.
He raced into the gas station. Eyes wild, he tossed his card at the man. `` Fill it up,'' he said. `` Hurry!''
The clerk, bored at first, now looked worried. `` No problem,'' he said. One hand dropped below the counter. `` Which pump?''
`` That one,'' Keith gestured. `` Right there. Pump, uh & mdash; hey, what are you doing?''
The man definitely looked nervous now. `` Okay,'' he said. `` Okay, pump six. Fill it up.''
`` Did you just trip an alarm?'' Keith asked, incredulous.
`` No alarms here,'' the man started to pull his hand out from beneath the counter.
The door flew open, the siren's wail too close now. No time.
`` Keith, we have to go,'' Matt said. `` They're here.''
`` Why did you get out of the car?
`` They're h & mdash;'' Matt stopped, staring over Keith's shoulder.
Keith turned, following his friend's gaze. The clerk held a gun, trained somewhere around Keith's ribcage.
`` What are you doing?'' Keith shouted.
`` I do n't want any trouble,'' the clerk said. `` No trouble here.''
Keith's face reddened, then purpled. `` Trouble?'' he yelled. `` What trouble? I just wanted some fucking *gas*.''
`` I want you to leave now,'' the clerk said.
`` Fine.'' Keith bit his lip. `` Fine, just give me back my card.'' He started to reach for it, but the clerk snatched it away.
`` I'll have the cops get it back to you,'' he said. Smugly, considering the way his hands were trembling.
From the corner of his eye, Keith saw Matt, on the wrong side of the store now, inching his way around behind the counter.
`` You going to shoot me for trying to buy gas?'' Keith asked, stalling. *What is Matt up to? *
`` You were n't just trying to buy gas,'' the clerk said.
`` What was I trying to do?''
`` You... I...'' the clerk looked less sure, now.
Keith risked a glance out through the plate glass windows, then kicked himself for the impulse. The clerk's eyes had followed his own. They widened at the sight of the flashing lights.
`` You're *criminals*,'' he hissed.
Matt had made it around the counter. He tried to grab him from behind, but the clerk saw him and turned, gun trained on the boy.
Keith pushed himself up, over the counter and grabbed the clerk around the neck.
The gun went off.
Matt screamed.
& nbsp;
* ( running out of space, will continue below ) *
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[ WP ] A box is misdelivered to your home . In it are 5 vials and a note saying `` Mark , these are the only antidotes . Good luck . ''
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`` So, I'm sitting there dick hanging half out playing Halo, when some asshole starts knocking on the door like the fucking worlds ending. ”
“ God you ’ re agoraphobic. ”
“ Ah fuck you. So, I get up and some squirrelly lookin ’ dudes standing there with a box wrapped to shit in cellophane. Just handed it to me and left. Didn ’ t even make me sign or anything. ”
“ What was inside? ”
“ It was the weirdest thing. When I finally got the damn thing open there was only five little glass vials full of some murky brown stuff and a note that only said
‘ Mark, these are the only antidotes. Good Luck. ’ ”
“ Antidotes to what? ”
“ Fuck if I know. ”
“ What ’ d ya do? ”
“ I tried one and it tasted pretty good. So I downed ‘ em all with some bourbon and played more Halo. Couple hours later some dude came to my house all panicky and started crying when I told him what I did, screaming about gloom and doom. ”
“ What a loon. By the way, the missus wants you and Karen over for dinner this Friday.
“ Sounds good buddy. Did you hear about that guy on bath salts? Ate some poor ladies face. World ’ s goin ’ to shit. ”
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[ WP ] After dying , you found yourself staring at a large screen . `` LOBBY . Current players : 7,383,275,800 . Current game time : 1059040375.2 mins . Current spectarors : 21,458,374,931 . Player rank : 2,648,535,901 . Time until next game : 23695624.8 mins ''
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They called it a'decompression chamber' for a reason. Not just because it fit well with the other fun aquatic idioms like'coming up' and'riding the wave', but also because it was literally a chamber in which to decompress. The liquor flowed almost as fast as the profanity here, and if it was n't for the colossal array of screens flashing statistics and highlights that occupied one wall and the moving walkway between the simulator arrays and the cryogenic ports, each of the stations could easily have been mistaken for any of the thousands of similar establishments inside the game.
Personally, Elia could n't remember which had informed the design of which anymore. Enough cycles could do that to you.
*''.. fucking asshole sniped me! Like, are you kidding me? If you're going to assassinate someone, especially someone who way outranks you, at least have the courtesy to use a fucking melee weapon..'' *
Her run had been good enough that there was n't much to complain about - a top 10 % run was her best yet, and a sign that all that mid-game optimization practice was really paying off. The rest was fine tuning, and a little bit of luck. Of course, for some people, it was that last bit that always got them..
*''.. sick of bullshit RNG, I swear. If I do n't get a decent clean gene start next go around I'm going to choke on a toy and at least save myself some effort. `` *
*'' Good luck doing that these days. I think some of these high rank runners are implementing bullshit safety measures just to keep us from getting all those practice resets that they used early on..'' *
She scanned the crowd for familiar faces between watching the highlights and let the conversations wash over her as the stations rolled by. She did n't recognize anyone, which came with a brief twinge of sadness, but it was quickly overwhelmed by eagerness - after all, Nia would n't have waited after a top 10 % round, either. She'd be first in line to get to the next round.
*''.. strategy for early game animals? Dogs are everywhere and I do n't know what the fuck I'm doing wrong, I keep getting bitten. `` *
*'' Seriously? Just do n't interact with them unless they're friendly. Is nobody teaching you signs of aggression? I'd understand if you keep getting run over or something, but dogs? What kind of shitty parents do you keep rolling..'' *
`` Good run, Miss Elia?'' The voice of the facility AI knocked her out of her momentary reverie - she had n't even noticed that she'd rolled out of the chamber and into processing.
`` Oh! Yes. Top ten percent! Hoping I can keep the streak going. Three old age deaths in a row is pretty good, is n't it?''
`` Your progress over the last five cycles has been extremely impressive, as has Miss Nia's. Will you be entering sleep immediately?''
`` Yes. Yes, I think so.''
`` Very well. You've been issued port VS-19. Please remain on the walkway until you've reached your destination.'' It started rolling again smoothly, carrying her into the quiet darkness, with only the parting words of the AI interrupting the gentle hum of the systems that kept the facility alive.
`` Best of luck next round, Miss Elia.''
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[ WP ] A boy is raised in an orphanage . He grows up to invent time travel . He then goes back in time to adopt himself .
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It was a tenement at 43rd and 2nd street, a place I waited 39 years to return to. The winter trees were deader than when I had left and all I could think of was what my father would have given me for Christmas if he had n't died tonight. My mother died during childbirth and my dad raised me until I was four before he was beaten to death next to the tenement of my foster parents. They found my broken body curled up next to the stairs that same night and took me to the hospital where I stayed for 3 weeks. They did n't tell me the truth until I was twelve and I had always wanted revenge on the assailant. I was set up on the roof of the building across the street with the butt of my rifle in my shoulder and my arm relaxed, waiting for the moment to set. After hours on edge I saw two figures appear to the left and raised my rifle up and kept my aim in their vicinity. Instantly I recognized them as they approached closer. My heart thundered and three beads of sweat dropped down my forehead. I kept my eye out for any threats until I realized there was n't a soul around them. I raised my head from my sights and looked down the ledge to see if he was underneath me. When I looked back up I saw myself being pulled by my dad to the tenement. I was stumbling and could n't keep up and when I fell down my dad yanked me back up and screamed at me. He slapped me across the face and pulled me closer to the foster home. My heart dropped, my handles trembled, and I dropped my rifle and it bounced back and forth from the sling on my arm. My spine shook as I watched my dad raised his arm overhead and strike me over the skull. He threw my body against the door and scurried across the street into the darkness. My head dropped onto the ledge and scrapped downwards until I was lying on the floor crying. I could n't believe it. I felt like an idiot. I felt like the last gleaming hope of love had been swept under my feet. I laid there for an hour and a half until I raised my head back over the ledge. My body was still mangled by the stairs. I ran down the stairs and jolted across the street. The door opened and a hand reached down the stairs. `` Get off me!'' I cried as I picked myself up and cradled myself in my chest. The door slammed shut and I dashed across the street and raced to the time machine. I opened the latch and lowered myself in first, then carefully came in second. I entered random sequences and pulled the lever all in a frantic state. I was still in shock of what happened. I pulled myself back into my arms and hugged myself tighter than I had ever hugged anyone else in my life. The machine shook and jerked and I slide into the corner with myself still in my arms. The machine started to tumble and flipped upside down, but I held on even tighter and did n't let go.
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[ WP ] A new gameshow starts playing on every station worldwide . The rules of the game ; Say what you want to win , and if you do n't answer ten questions in a row correctly , then something of equal value is lost . After three hours someone says `` A glimpse of God . ''
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For a few seconds, everyone on the set seemed to freeze. Nothing moved, everyone was silent. The men behind the cameras looked at each other and focused on the man standing up. The host of the show, a tall, blond man with striking features closed his mouth and gulped.
`` Could you repeat that, sir?'' he asked, breaking the silence. Slowly, life seemed to return on set, people moving, whispering, cameras focusing on the man with the weird request.
Dennis had something about him that struck people as odd, something though that could not easily be put into words. He had common features, black hair, brown eyes, a somewhat fat nose. All in all a forgetable face, one that would not stand out in a crowd. Still there was that something about him and it could not be ignored, especially now after he had requested
`` A glimpse of God,'' he repeated `` or is that not in your power?''
The host smirked and took a seat.
`` Why do n't you join us...'' he paused while reading the name tag Dennis was wearing `` Dennis? Come down here, sit! LET'S HEAR IT FOR DENNIS, EVERYONE!!'' he exclaimed as Dennis stepped down from the crowd and onto the main set.
Taking a seat across the host, Dennis closed his eyes and breathed in slowly, readying himself for what was about to come. On the table between them two screens lit up, one facing the host and the other facing Dennis.
`` Shall we get started?'' asked he host and without waiting for an actual answer continued!
`` First question then!''
...
Had it been minutes, hours, days even? Dennis could not tell. He could not tell how he had answered all the questions up till now. They had started off easy enough, but after question 3 ( or was it 4? ) his brain seemed to have gone into auto mode as the questions scaled up to unnatural difficulty. Still, he had pulled through somehow, facing his ninth question.
`` Two more'' he whispered to himself, whiping his sweaty brow with the back of his hand.
`` Two more indeed!'' announced the host. He seemed impeccable, unphased by everything. The lights were always on them and Dennis felt their heat making him dizzy, making him sweat, but this blond man across the table seemed as if he was outside, enjoying a totally different scene than this. His gaze, his smile, his voice, everything about him had come to seem... inhuman.
`` So, question nine, Dennis, are you ready?'' and once again, without waiting continued `` Excellent! Now, tell us Dennis, what is God's middle name?''
Dennis blinked.
`` Excuse me?'' he blurted out.
`` It seems I need to repeat the question! Getting tired, are we now, Dennis? I said: What is God's middle name?''
Dennis looked around, disoriented. Everyone in the studio kept looking at him as if everything was normal. Every other question so far was a test of his knowledge or his critical thinking. Yet noone seemed to be having trouble accepting this farce as a question now, so close to the end.
`` I... I'm sorry, I must be really tired... It-it seemed to me as if you asked for God's middle name...'' Dennis stuttered.
The host smiled, revealing his perfectly white teeth.
`` Indeed I did, Dennis. Do you not know the answer?''
As Dennis winced, he tried to imagine what would he lose, in case he gave up now... What could be of equal value to a glimpse of God? As panic started to fill his head, he vaguely heard the host speaking to him.
`` The clock is ticking Dennis!! Do you think you can share your thoughts with us?''
Smiling maddly as tears welled up in his eyes, Dennis looked at the blond man, his vision blurry...
`` This is a joke, right? Ha... Ha ha ha... I... I need to laugh now, right?'' asked Dennis before breaking into uncontrollable laughter
`` A HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!! GOD'S MIDDLE NAME!! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!! I DO N'T KNOW! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!''
The host broke into laughter as well, his eyes madder than poor Dennis'.
`` Thank you for your participation then, Dennis!'' he shouted `` You were an excellent player and we were glad to have you with us! Unfortunately, since you asked for a glimpse of God, but failed to answer all our questions, we now have to take something from you!''
As Dennis banged his fists on the table, laughing maddly all the while, the host jumped up from his seat, opening his hands widely towards the ceiling. His voice ringing in Dennis' ears crystal clear the host continued shouting, his mad eyes fixed on the ceiling of the studio.
`` YOU SEE LADIES AND GENTLEMEN'' he screamed as a vortex started forming above their heads, black winds spiralling in insane speeds `` DENNIS ASKED FOR A GLIMPSE OF GOD! NOW, I BELIEVE IT'S TIME FOR GOD TO GET A GOOD, LONG GLIMPSE AT OUR CONTESTANT, DENNIS!''
Screaming, shouting, people running, stepping on bodies, as the black winds inside the small studio kept on spinning, kept on sucking up everything that was close to them. Sparks went flying as cables, cameras, lights were sucked inside.
Dennis could see the huge eye staring at him, knowing everything he was, consuming everything about him, taking him apart and putting him back in different ways, experimenting, as if he was nothing, some soulless doul in a curious child's hands. And the eye... The eye was unlike anything he had expected. It was green and wet, slimy as if from some other species, some other god, different from what he had asked for. In the few slivers of a second for which he held on to his sanity, it reminded him of a squid. What a silly thought to think when your mind is being snapped...
And then everything was over. The studio was back to its normal state, the host was smiling calmly, the audience was applauding, the cameramen were bored as before. And Dennis... Dennis was drooling on his chair, staring at the ceiling. A man from the television crew came with a wheel chair and took Dennis' shell away, while the crowd started yelling, asking for a chance to compete...
The host smiled and pointed at a young girl.
`` You there, lovely lady! What would you like to win!?''
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[ WP ] Today started like any other , another bloodstained crime scene and another dead body laying in pieces , but then things got weird ...
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Detective Palmiro always got assigned to cases like these, perhaps it was because his stiff stoicism had convinced the others that he did n't mind missions like these, or perhaps it was because he was relatively new to the game, or perhaps it was because he was Jewish. Whatever the case, the fact remained that Detective Palmiro always got assigned to cases like these.
Back at the station, Captain Leedle, whom Detective Palmiro endearingly referred to as `` Chief Ass-hat'' behind his back, was gathering his stuff to leave for the afternoon.
`` Captain, what about the cases for today?'' Lt. Rips asked.
`` It's a slow day, Rips. Just the cut-up woman in the bathtub, and I've got Palmiro on that. He likes that stuff, you know.''
`` Yes, I do know that, sir. Where will you be going?''
`` Me? I'm going bowling.''
`` Ah, yes. You've been bowling since February, have n't you?''
`` That's right.''
`` Let me get your bag for you, sir --''
`` That's all right, Rips, it's got a bowling ball in it, which weighs about 13 pounds.'' He grabbed his bag from the ground and scurried out the door. Normally, or, since February at least, Captain Leedle visited Detective Lt. Rips' girlfriend after work while he had Palmiro work on one of the messy cases and Lt. Rips work late. He was n't going to see her today, though, as he had just seen her the night before.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Two legs, two arms, and the whole lot were in the tub of this dingy Motel 6 room in a gruesome scene. Every shred of decency in Detective Palmiro pleaded for him to look away, but there was something peculiar about this one.
`` Perot, this is n't the whole lot,'' he said to Detective Perot.
`` I did n't say it was.''
`` Oh. I thought you had.''
`` It's not the whole lot, though?''
`` No, Perot, there's no head.''
`` Well, the killer probably took it with him. As a souvenir, y'know?
`` I dunno, Perot; heads are awfully heavy.''
`` How would you know?''
`` I do n't, but just think about it.''
`` I guess.''
`` I'd say a real big one could be...'' Detective Palmiro thought for a bit.
`` Like 8 pounds?'' Detective Perot suggested.
`` No... I dunno, like 13 pounds.''
`` Christ, no one's gon na lug that shit around. 13 pounds? Forget it.''
Later, when Lt. Rips went home, he wondered where his girlfriend was.
Edit: formatting
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[ WP ] It 's International Bring-Your-Gun-To-Work Day , and it 's becoming clear to everyone in the office that your gun is just a banana under your jacket .
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*I hate this day. *
I walk nervously into my office building, avoiding eye contact with the receptionist at the oversized marble desk on the right side. I wave my ID badge with my left hand, and with my sweaty right hand, clutch the banana in my hoodie pocket. *I've made it through this stupid holiday the last few years, I can make it through this one. * I adjust my grip on the banana, realizing it's becoming much too soft. Last year, I had to throw out my jacket, because the banana split open and oozed into the fibers.
I quickly make my way to the elevator, which was mercifully empty. During the short twenty second ride, I was able to air out my hand, and relax. Once the elevator reached my floor, it was showtime, once again. I gripped my banana, and stepped out into the jungle of cubicles.
Everyone stood in clusters; there was a thirty minute overlap in shifts, and everyone liked to talk to one another before going home or starting work. *All I have to do is make it to my desk. * I move at a pace closer to a jog than a walk, twisting and turning on my way to the safety of my workspace.
`` Hey, Brian!'' A voice calls out.
*Dammit. It's Mike. *
I smile politely, as if to imply I'm in a hurry and ca n't be bothered to stop. He ignores my vague signal and waves me over to join his group. What will I say to them? They are likely talking about their guns, and I'm holding a damn banana in my pocket. *I do n't even know anything about guns. * I join their circle of conversation, and pray they do n't ask me any questions.
As Mike, Dave, and Kevin are talking, I occasionally nod or smile, based on their reactions to one another. Then, potential disaster struck; Allison joined the circle. Allison worked in the cubicle across from me; and I've been in love with her for the last year. We talk a lot, but I have n't yet gotten up the courage to ask her out. And now she's going to find out about my banana. *What a goddamn disaster. * I smile at her as she enters the group; and I see the outline of her gun protruding from her jacket. It seems to be about the same size as Kevin's; I consider making conversation about it, but decide it's better if I do n't bring up the subject.
`` Brian? Hey, earth to Brian!'' Kevin snapped his fingers at me. `` You gon na answer the question or just stare at Allison for the next fifteen minutes?''
I had n't realized anyone had been talking to me. Allison looked to the floor as her face turned beet red; my face surely matched the tone.
`` Sorry, what was the question?'' I asked, trying to brush off the awkwardness of the situation.
`` What are you packing in there?'' Mike chimed in with a chuckle, pointing to my banana bulge.
`` I, uh... just a... glock.'' I had heard the term before. Hopefully it's actually a weapon.
`` Glock? Who has a glock these days? Let's have a look!'' Dave said, reaching for my pocket. I backed away, raising my left hand.
`` Id rather not, I uh... just repainted it, and I'm kind of embarrassed.'' This gave Kevin a puzzled look.
`` Repainted?'' He asked, as he further examined the bulge. `` Hey, now that I look at it... it kind of looks curved. What... what is that?''
I began sweating heavily. Allison was staring at me, likely losing all respect she might have had. This was it. I was going to be outed as a non-gun owner. *Oh, how did it come to this? *
Dave stepped behind me, giggling like a schoolgirl, and grabbed my arms; Kevin reached into my pocket and retrieved my half-smushed banana. They exchanged puzzled looks, and then burst out laughing. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes; I looked over at Allison, and to my surprise, she was n't laughing. She put a finger to her lips, signaling me to keep a secret; and the pulled her hand slightly out of her jacket, revealing a cucumber.
I think I've found my soul mate.
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[ WP ] A man is blessed with the ability to read minds , but cursed with the inability to come up with any ideas on his own .
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**Bold, brass buttons ran down the chair's sides like guidelines on an airstrip, and swoops of light flew up the rich, shining leather. **
On the opposite end of the table, the President's guest sat in an entirely different kind of chair: one with narrow wheels, and thin, *spindly* metal spokes. The chair was so frail, the President wondered if he could bend its metal bars simply by touching them.
His guest was called Jack. The internet named him *the Mindreader. * Jack sat with a blanket across his lap, presumably to keep him warm. His nurse had laid it across him earlier, tucking it around his legs, though Jack was fully capable of moving his own limbs.
Mounds of documents littered the majestic, mahogany table, and a single screen showing what appeared to be black-and-white, *live* footage of the Russian Premiere himself was playing in front of Jack.
The President steepled his fingers together and pressed them against his lips. He opened his hands, his palms to the ceiling, before he spoke.
**'' Well, Jack? Is he thinking about it? `` **
Jack tilted his head. Drool that had been pooling behind his lip spilled over, the string stretching to his lap.
If the President did n't know any better, he would think the man was *bored*. But his aides had explained otherwise: `` Jack can not think for himself. He does n't do anything at all, unless he is told.''
`` Yes,'' the voice of the Mindreader was hollow, `` He is thinking about it, Mr. President, sir.''
*Assassination. *
`` How *soon, * Jack? *When* is he thinking about it?''
`` He thinks about it, just as much as you do, Mr. President, sir.''
The President clenched his jaw. His automatic reaction was to protest, to claim innocence, but against a man who could read minds, what was the point?
`` Then,'' the President continued, `` he means to go through with it, correct?''
`` Correct, Mr. President, sir.''
*Mr. President, sir* - Every time Jack spoke, it was as if someone else was speaking through him. Or as if he was speaking through a thick haze from another world. The President shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the leather squeaking under him.
`` Jack, can you tell me *when* he plans to go through with it?''
`` Yes. I can.'' Jack droned, just as the door to the Office creaked open.
An older woman in a tattered nurse's uniform crept in, carrying a tray with small, white cups on one hand, and clutching a gleaming thermos to her chest with the other.
The President's aides told him to ignore her - she was Jack's caretaker, his ever-present guardian who tended to even his most basic needs. Yet, there was something about the way she moved that made him uncomfortable. It was hard for him to speak when she was present, especially on matters as vital as this...
`` Excuse me, Mr. President, but it's Jack's lunch time, and he does forget to eat. I brought you something too, if you do n't mind.''
`` Of course,'' the President said. He stood up, and pulled up a chair for the woman, while she dished out cups and sandwiches cut into triangles.
For the sake of civility, the President *tried* to focus on the warmth of the coffee. After downing the first cup, though, he was practically shaking, and his lips were white.
He watched as the Nurse lifted the sandwich to Jack's lips, and whispered in his ear, whispered for him to *Chew, keep chewing, keep chewing, swallow. *
The President's fidgeted so much, and bounced his legs so vigorously, the cups on the table were rattling in their saucers.
Jack's Nurse was wiping his mouth, and patting his head, *Good, good. *
At last, he could not contain himself. His words burst out in a torrent of spit and anxiety, `` Tell me, Jack. Does he know what we're planning?''
`` Mostly.''
`` Mostly? What do you mean?''
`` He knows what you want to do, but he does not know when. Nor how.''
The President poured himself another cup, and brought it to his lips. He withdrew in his own thoughts, mentally flashing through his options. *There were avenues for peace, though shaky at best. And there were ways to elongate the stalemate between the two superpowers. *
*But no, in the end, there was only one option that would truly put the United States of America ahead, once and for all. *
If he had been less preoccupied, the President might have noted the nurse's eyes shifting furtively up at him - or her smile, spreading with every sip he took.
The President pushed his chair away from the table, `` Jack, thank you, but if you will excuse me, I need to- *whoa*'' when he stood up, he had to plant both hands on the table to steady himself.
`` Are you alright, Mr. President?'' the nurse cooed. Her hands were kneading Jack's shoulders with the touch of an experienced caretaker.
`` Yes, yes,'' the President shook his head, and pulled at his tie to loosen it, `` I have some urgent business. Classified-,'' he coughed, a sudden, wet sound, `` I need the Head of Defense. Please, if you'll show yourselves out-''
`` Are you sure, Mr. President? Would you like me to-''
`` No, no, please. Just-'' the President swallowed hard, and flapped his hand at the door. Jack's Nurse bowed her head, her white teeth gleaming. She pulled on the handles of Jack's wheelchair, and rolled him out of the room.
When the doors creaked shut behind them, she whispered to Jack, her thick accent spilling back into her voice, `` Did you read his mind?''
`` Yes, ma'am.''
`` And? When will they strike?''
`` Next Monday, in the afternoon.''
`` Good, good. Russia owes you her thanks.''
`` Okay.'' Jack's dull voice was as empty as his thoughts.
***
*Oh yeah, and check out /r/PSHoffman where I'm writing a [ Star Wars alternate ending ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/PSHoffman/comments/4b47cv/star_wars_the_shadow_and_the_son/ ), and a new Dark almost-sci-fi story of the [ Warp of the Dead. ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/PSHoffman/comments/4j7brm/dead_warp/ ) *
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[ IP ] A New World Coming
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Tenzin pauses on her route to look up at the passing ship, thankful for the distraction. It was certainly a long trip from up the mountain to back down where the water has flooded the houses, but it was a requirement. There were those suffering down there after the dam had finally broken.
The ship wheels to one side, as they all do, to avoid the mountain but to take the cut-through between the pair. She is certain they would take that route, after all, it is the moving of a great temple from down below. They will drop each section into place and mortar all of it back together with some adjustments and fixes to make sure that it holds.
As they skim low overhead, the balloons straining to hold on to their precious cargo, she can hear and see small stones dropping away that just can ’ t keep holding on. Tenzin can only guess at how large the crew is for this bulky a section. There must be problems back at the site for them to try rushing the job.
She continues down the mountain, tearing her gaze away to navigate the dangerous path. While she was glad to help the struggling survivors, she would be even gladder to climb back up the mountain to her new home. Eventually they would join the rest of the village, whether it is the water, the lack of food, or the despair that drove them up the mountain. It could even be the heat, it was warmer here than it had ever been before and the air up above is much cooler.
As it stands, Everest is the safest place to be in the world. Everything else is sinking into the sea.
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[ Wp ] You are pluto ...
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I've always felt a bit left out. Unnoticed. My only friend was Neptune and he was so much larger than me. I am small and cold.
First there was the Sun, that ball of gas never shut up and always threatened us with'Solar Flares'. Yeah yeah come at me bitch.
Then there was Mercury. He was... mercurial. Burnt out. My opposite really.
Venus was the typical girly girl. Flirty, a bit gassy truth be told and was getting married to Neptune in a few billion years.
Earth was left alone. Ever since be got humans and they even began to spread we had kept our distance. Those freaks are really doing a number on him, poor guy.
Mars was always bullied. Y'know for being red surfaced. He was likely next to be humanised. Unlucky.
Jupiter was the epitome of obese. So large and angry and boisterous. We just ignored him.
Saturn was cool to be honest. Had a little fan club. Dressed well, I mean have you seen that belt?!
Uranus. Lets just move on. He's the butt of our jokes.
Neptune was my BFF but when he and Venus get married they're moving to a new galaxy. I'll be alone but that's okay. It is n't bit that's what I tell him.
And now the main detraction, Me. I am small and cold. Not very popular - the quiet guy at the back of the System. Sometimes I wish I was bigger, then they'd respect me more. Wait, Neptune's just told me I'm not a planet any more... I'm a dwarf.
WHAT THE HELL?! BAD ENOUGH THAT'S ALREADY WHAT THEY CALL ME!
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You 're writing something new . Every single letter you type brings someone closer to their grave . [ FF ]
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They never told me.
I'm using my typewriter. I always liked it. The sounds soothed me; its harsh clicks went perfectly with too-hot coffee as I invented whole worlds. I could bring them crashing down if I so chose. I do n't have that power anymore. I will miss it, but then, I'll miss everything.
There are consequences to holding the privilege of a god. My consequences have come. They picked a number. They never told me. The gun is to my head and when they cocked it, it sounded like a typewriter key. Click.
They never told me how many letters I have left, so I will go as I lived: loudly, sitting at this typewriter, spilling words out onto the page. I will miss everything.
I'll
^Edit: ^if ^there ^are ^other ^restrictions ^here, ^please ^do ^add ^them!
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[ WP ] Sitting outside of a cafe , you hear two people arguing about a ring , but it does n't seem to be a wedding ring ...
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It started like any other Saturday. I was sitting at my normal table outside of my favorite cafe, The Hole. Weird name, I know. I've learned not to question it. I read the morning newspaper as I waited for my old friend Jenny to bring my usual to the table. She's the one who introduced me to this place.
I picked up the morning paper and looked through for something interesting. The first thing that caught my eye was a `` Wanted'' notice, like something from the old West or the post office.
`` Wanted in connection with theft of ancient ring: Man known as Fred and associates known only as G Gray and the Fellowship. Thought to be a dangerous gang. Ring has ancient writing on it. Unknown substance may cause hallucinations by wearer. Be careful in handling. If found, contact Gill U. Miller at ( 303 ) xxx-xxxx. Reward will be discussed with S and S Associates located at 123 Two Towers Boulevard.''
As I was chuckling over this ad, a rowdy group sat at one of the other outdoor tables, pulling practically all the chairs from the surrounding tables over to that one. There were three short men with curly hair who ordered the biggest possible breakfasts. There was a quiet, taller man with wavy, dark brown hair who was talking with an old man with a long, gray beard and long, gray hair. There was a man with long blonde hair and a skateboard ( weirdly enough, it was painted to look like a shield ) arguing with a short man with a messy beard and long hair that was starting to turn into dreads. There was one other man with shoulder length light brown hair, sitting quietly as if thinking about something important.
I could n't help eavesdropping. One of the curly haired ones whispered ( not very quietly ) to the old man.
`` G Gray,'' he said, catching my attention. `` What are we going to do about the ring? I know you want me to destroy it, but I really do n't want to. Ca n't I keep it? It's almost... precious to me.''
`` No, Fred. It must be destroyed. The ring is dangerous.''
`` But-''
`` No. No arguments. It must be destroyed.''
I realized that these must be the people from the Wanted ad. I started dialing the number listed when something the old man said to the one he'd been arguing with, who was now sulking, made me hesitate.
`` It could destroy the whole earth you know.''
Though I thought I had been discreet, the old man suddenly turned to face me and he stared at my for a few seconds.
`` Young lady, were you eavesdropping?''
`` N-no. I swear. I was n't... was n't... I was just... I was waiting for my food and... and... I swear I did n't hear anything,'' I said. `` Just something about destroying the world,'' I mumbled as an afterthought.
`` Well, I suppose we ca n't have you spreading that around. You'll have to join us or face some, er, consequences. What do you say? Join G Gray's gang or-''
`` Okay I'll join you guys,'' I said, absolutely terrified of this old man and his giant staff. For all I knew, he'd have used that to beat me to death if I said no.
`` Alright. We're going on an important mission. Be ready to leave in-'' He checked his watch. `` Fifty seven minutes. Do n't be late.''
Fifty seven minutes later I was back at the cafe. He was n't there for another three minutes but, as I learned, G Gray always arrives precisely when he means to.
That's the story of how one overheard conversation at a cafe led me, Samantha G, to join a gang led by a crazy old man and made up of mostly short hairy men and a few taller okayi'lladmitsortofattrattractive ones. At least he did n't try to turn me into anything... unnatural.
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[ WP ] Teenage rebellion for young demons is to do good , but not too good -that would be uncool as well .
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Zazazael chuckled. This would be his greatest accomplishment EVER. This would show his father. He peeked around the corner of the alley and waited. His eyes never left the black leather wallet he had dropped on the sidewalk. Men and women walked over it in a rush never once looking down from their phones or conversations.
A small dirty girl sat against the cold brick wall and held out a small flower printed cup for change. Zazazael had been watching her for a few days. Her weakness made him furious, but there was something intriguing about her. Her small brown eyes spotted the wallet. With a squeak she rushed through the crowd. Weaving through legs and only getting hit by one purse she picked up her prize. As swiftly as a bird she darted into the alley that he was standing in. She was inches away from Zazazael but she couldn ’ t see him. Her tiny fingers pried open the wallet. A thick stack of crisp one hundred dollar bills lay inside. She jumped for joy. Her wonderful smile lit up the entire alley. When he saw it he knew that everything would be alright. For the first time in his life, he felt peaceful.
What the hell am I talking about? I ’ m a terrifying demon! I can ’ t be brought to my knees by a little girls smile! He shook his head. If any of the guys found out about this…
“ Don ’ t worry Zazzy I won ’ t tell anyone. ” The little girl said.
His head snapped back to the girl. She wasn ’ t talking to me was she? Her brown eyes were fixated directly on him.
“ Yes, I ’ m talking to you dummy. ” She laughed.
Her small form began to shift and change. Arms and legs began to grow, her torso elongated. Small white wings burst out of her back. In the blink of an eye she had transformed from a little girl into a beautiful young woman. Brilliant white wings tucked tightly behind her.
“ That ’ s so much better! ” She said, her voice like chimes in the wind.
“ Mariel! I knew it was you the whole time! ” Zazazael shouted.
“ No you didn ’ t! I ’ m going to tell everyone how much of a softie you are. ” She said with a wink and vanished.
“ NO! ” Zazazael roared and vanished.
Word had already spread. He sat with his face buried in his hands while his friends mocked him. Damn you Mariel! I will get you back. He promised to himself.
-- -
More stuff at /r/Written4Reddit if you enjoyed this!
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[ WP ] Reverse-Paranoia : The creeping suspicion that you 're out to get everyone
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“ Babe, for the fourth time, you weren ’ t trying to steal that guy ’ s identity. ”
“ But think about it! He had his credit card out, and I bet I had enough time to memorize the number! ”
“ Did you see the PIN? His name? Any information actually necessary to use a credit card? ”
“ Well, no… but— “
“ Look. You can ’ t go through life thinking you ’ re out to get everyone. It ’ s not healthy, and it ’ s not how the world works. You know that. ”
“ But what about that car? ”
“ What car? ”
“ I think it was a lady. I don ’ t know. She was right in front of me for most of the drive home. I think I was following her. I tried to lose her, but I couldn ’ t. Everywhere I turned, there she was, right in front of me. I even took the long way home. Back roads and everything. ”
“ Maybe she was just trying to get home. ”
“ Exactly! And there I was, terrorizing her, tracking her every move! ”
“ You ’ re unbelievable. ”
“ No, babe, come on. Don ’ t be mad. ”
“ I ’ m not mad. ”
“ Oh, great. Now I ’ m probably gon na go cheat on you or something. ”
“ Ok, I ’ m getting you to a psychiatrist. None of this is healthy. ”
“ Please, no. You know doctors do n't trust me. I ’ m just out for their money. ”
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[ RF ] I am all that remains of the man I once was
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Seated in my old leather arm chair by the bay window I prepare to watch another sunset on my own. Darkness covers the fields behind my house in a thick blanket; I know that beauty lies hidden under it -- beauty that just needs light and warmth to reveal itself.
Memories play in my mind as if they are keys being pressed on a haunted piano. Minor and then major notes ring out; sometimes they merge into each other and form a bittersweet harmony.
Your beaming face as you arrive at the alter. The vows; well intentioned promises of the life we believed we wanted. The many warm smiles and the occasional worn ones, as the guests line up to greet us. That night as we dance together as two lovers do. We tumble and fall and kiss.
And then her. I see her for the first time and she is red and beige and beautiful. She stands out against the pale, sterile room. I hold her in my arms and I can not speak. There *are* no words to speak but I know I am hers for the rest of my life. If she ever falls, I will be waiting to catch.
The arguments. Notes too sharp or too flat. The lies we tell to each other and to ourselves. The tears that have not stopped since the day you took *her* from me.
-- -
The first ray of light creeps over the horizon and the piano player pauses. I lean foward and watch as the black fields turn to a deep green. A bluebird sings.
I am the remains of the man I once was but I keep going, for you.
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[ WP ] Since birth you 've had the ability to cure or save people with your touch . Now when you need it the most it stops working , who are you trying to save and why ?
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`` Help me,'' she begged, clutching onto my shirt with both hands. I said nothing in return. My voice was caught in my throat.
I looked at my hands in anger and frustration. I've healed so many. So many. From the small to the big; scraped knees, a torn ACL, fingers sliced off in a buzz-saw. And not just injuries: doctors were absolutely flabbergasted at how quickly my mother recovered from stage IV pancreatic cancer, or how I've never been a sick a day in my life. In fact, my whole family seemed to defy all explanations for our constantly incredible health; they called us a medical miracle and wondered how we did it. I just grinned behind my hand.
But I have n't smiled for a while now.
`` Why ca n't I take away your pain?'' I pleaded softly. I caressed her hair, once a shining auburn. It was now dull and unkempt, framing a worn face.
Dark eyes looked up at me, and her lips pulled a little at the corners. `` It's OK, love,'' she whispered. `` A lot of smart people have tried and they could n't do it. Hey, if people wearing white coats and glasses do n't know how to fix me, maybe this was just meant to --''
I clapped a hand over mouth. `` Do n't you dare say that,'' I interrupted. `` I'll figure something out. I swear it.''
She smiled a little more, and placed her head onto my chest. I wrapped her in my arms and blankets and warmth.
Later that evening, as I was leaving work, I got a text from her. It read: *Hey, no need to come over tnite. Gon na go to bed early. *
I felt something prickle in the back of my mind. Something did n't feel right. I quickly texted back: *Feeling tired? *
*Yea. Need sleep. Want to sleep forever. *
I stared at the text for a full minute, the gears in my brain grinding to a halt. `` Oh my God,'' I breathed as a terrible thought occurred to me. I ran out to the curb and hailed a taxi straight for her flat. The ride was only ten minutes long, but each minute dragged by like an hour.
`` OK, sir, that'll be $ 9.5 --'' I shoved a twenty through the little pay window and bolted out of the car and ran up the stairs to her apartment. Heart hammering, I wasted no time and shoved keys into the keyhole and all but ripped it open.
`` Melissa! MELISSA!'' I shouted as I rushed in and checked room to room. The den was in the same way: sweaters strewn about, the TV blaring silently. Kitchen was dark, and the table held a half-eaten apple pie next to a tub of melted vanilla ice cream. The bedroom was the same as I had left it in the morning.
Then I noticed the small sliver of light peeking through under the closed bathroom door. I tried the knob; it was locked.
`` Melissa? Are you in there?'' I asked anxiously. I knocked a few more times, but no answer came. Taking a deep breath, I stepped back and firmly kicked the door right below the lock. It was weak, and gave away almost immediately. I opened it and looked around wildly.
`` Oh no. No. No. Nonononononono...,'' I moaned as my brain refused to take in what my eyes saw. She lay in the bathtub, dressed in the same clothes as she had on when I had left for work. She looked like she was asleep; the blood that slowly oozed from slits in her wrists, the stained razor blade on the floor, and the overturned, empty bottle of Tylenol next to it told a different story.
Shaking my head violently, I snapped into action. I gripped her wrists and felt the rush of power as the skin and muscle sewed themselves back together, and her bone marrow began to hyper-accelerate production of red blood cells. The magic sang in my veins as her liver cells regenerated, and the toxic paracetamol metabolites began to rapidly break down. I took off her Hello Kitty pajamas and underwear as I forced her bladder to expel the by-products. The urine was stained red, but I ignored that. I searched through her blood vessels, and destroyed every single *Clostridium tetani* particle she had taken in from the rusty blade.
A half hour later, I placed her back into the bed. As I looked down, watching her breathe steadily, something white caught my eye: a business card on her nightstand, torn in two. I picked it up, fully knowing what it held: the name and contact information of her psychiatrist. It was hastily X'ed out with red lipstick.
All of a sudden, I felt exhausted and beaten. Not bothering to change out of my work clothes, I slipped in next to her under the covers. Holding her close, I began to weep.
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[ WP ] An infectious disease , endemically transmissible to patients within a certain fandom culture . How do you react ?
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The hospital was in a frenzy as hundreds of young girls were rushed to the ER.
A team of doctors stood around one particular child, their test subject; if they could cure her, they may have the chance to cure all of them.
`` We tried everything doctor, yet she wo n't accept the decent music taste transplant'' a nearby nurse stated.
`` Hook her up with an IV of Clint Eastwood stat!'' The doctor yelled.
'Sir, the disease is also affecting teenage boys now'' another nurse said running into the operation room.
`` Crap, I thought this would only affect females, we do n't have much time before the adults start getting it too.''
`` We just got news of a man suffering severe [ symptoms ] ( http: //www.billboard.com/articles/columns/pop-shop/5763186/justin-bieber-fan-spends-100k-on-plastic-surgery-to-look-like-the ) ``
`` Crap, crap, crap'' the doctor sighed, rubbing his temple. `` Destroy it all.''
`` But sir.....''
`` This has gone too far, teenagers are n't so bad, but now it's affecting adults? We must euthanize everyone afflicted before it spreads further.''
`` You said you can save our daughter'' the parents cried.
`` Sorry, but you ca n't save someone from Bieber Fever.''
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[ WP ] You go back to your parents ' old place , and dig your game console out of the boxes . The both of you reminisce about the good times .
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man i havent seen this thing in ages.
it is good to see you again Josh.
I wasted my entire damn childhood glued to this.
do you remember what we had?
all the games we used to play.
all the love we shared.
i mean, i'm surprised it still works after i smashed the buttons doing combos.
all the times you ravished me.
having to blow on it to get it to even start.
getting me ready for an all nighter.
to bad i got an A-box, waaaaaaay more games.
then you left for a fancy young whore.
why not have one more play.
one more play.
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[ CC ] You can fill out a legal form asking the court for permission to murder one person . That person will be notified , did this as a prompt but want criticism on my writing .
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tldr: Too wordy for no apparent reason. Cut a lot of it out. I don ’ t care to read a threatening letter I want to *see* events unfold.
The first paragraph, especially the wikipedia stuff, is tough to read. It does n't flow well. Not to mention it ’ s wikipedia and is not something I ’ d want to cite as a reliable source. If you ’ re going to cite a source I ’ d go with an actual legal source. Gives it more legitimacy. Beyond that I'd gut it, make a few other changes and leave something like this.
>'' I know you got the letter, Kent.
> It's called a `` service of process'' and it that means is that you've formally been given legal notice of the court's decision about my intentions, and a formal warning of my intentions towards you. To wit, within the next 10 days I intend to take your life.''
Second paragraph I'd do away with all the talk about not being a vigilante and not being a bounty hunter. It seems like it's there as filler and it *feels* forced to me. In fact I'd cut a lot of it out of the second part as well and make some changes to simplify it.
>'' I went through a lengthy application process, declaring intent, and providing evidence of wrong-doing on your part. I showed them I had taken you to court on my twentieth birthday for the years of sexual abuse and harassment, and how you got off on a technicality. I showed them chat logs and they agreed that I had suffered greatly. A fact reinforced by psychological testing.''
Third paragraph I'd cut out entirely. You're basically repeating everything you already said.
1 ) The court gave me permission to kill you.
2 ) I was abused for years by you
3 ) You got off on a technicality in the past.
Fourth paragraph. I ’ d switch this to the point of view of the uncle reading the letter and let him describe what ’ s going on in his own mind and what he ’ s thinking. In other words let that character develop as he sees fit. Let the audience see his reaction to the main character ’ s anger and to the realization that he is without wife, family, or real friends through his eyes.
Fifth paragraph I ’ d remove altogether. All the stuff about the court ’ s decisions and what it means to uncle Kent should be done and over with. No sense in repeating it.
Sixth paragraph I ’ d switch it to Joselyn ’ s point of view. I ’ d make it the kill scene. Stick the gun in his mouth and make him plead. I want a front row seat to it happening. I don ’ t want to read threats. I want to witness it first hand. Or I want to see the evil uncle outwit his niece once again. But I definitely don ’ t want to read her ranting and raving about how she ’ s going to do this and that.
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[ WP ] Today you just completed all that is required to become a Paladin . You go deep into the woods to pray and find out what God is your patron . You are chosen by the God of Wine , Music , and Partying
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I kneeled, naked, on the shroomy stump.
I prayed. I prayed long and hard, through a whole day.
I may have had a nap at some point.
I prayed some more.
The prayer was an old one. It was essentially `` pick me pick me pick me pick me pick me'' only more dignified and having more'I abjure thee to listen to my gratitude for what you provide us, and offer myself in servitude'.
I always did have a sense of humour though, and could n't help but change the words each time I prayed the traditional prayer.
Eventually, I heard a sound. A single chord.
It was unlike any other sound I had ever heard.
It was as if a lute was somehow transformed into lighting, and then the lightning struck a drum.
Confusion, misunderstanding, and then a mild sense of welcoming enveloped me.
And then I knew I had my Calling.
There are gods of penitence, that request their followers subject themselves to great pain to cleanse themselves.
There are trickster gods, who throw socket wrenches into the mechanisms of the world.
There are weather gods, who aid the farmers of the world and demand respect.
There are gods of love. Gods of war. Gods of the skies, and gods of the ground.
I had found my God.
A dark glyph appeared on my shoulder, and I examined it closely.
It appeared to be the shape of a hand, with the middle finger and the finger next to the smallest finger closed, all other fingers extended.
It made me think of a devil's horns, and wondered if I had pledged myself in service to a demon god.
I made the gesture with my right hand, and heard a faint drumming sound, increasing in tempo and volume.
The lute-like sound increased too, and the sense of words trying to enter my mind, like telepathy, appeared.
I spoke, but the words were alien, unfamiliar. In an alien tongue, although it felt similar in structure to Common.
The music paused, and the words'Ah, you lot, sorry, spoke in English for a mo' appeared in my mind before I uttered the rallying cry of all who follow my new god, in a booming, divinely amplified voice.
# ARE YOU READY TO ROCK? #
The smell of mead floated down from the trees, and various branches exploded with the honey-alcohol, and a few swarms of insects changed shape into nubile women.
`` Fuck yes!'' I shouted in reply to the god I served.
# THEN GO FORTH AND PARTY ON #
And so I did.
Naked and feeling confident, glowing in divine energy, I swaggered my way back into town, occasionally taking a quaff off the horn of mead materialising in my hand whenever I desired one, my followers of nature-spirit partiers forever dancing their swarming mass of insects into enticing shapes, went forth to register myself as the first Holy Paladin of Chord of this era, servant of the God of Music, parties, and wine.
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[ WP ] You 're not a hero . You never were . So why does this girl keep saying you are one ?
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I look up across the table. I was in a padded interrogation room with my hands handcuffed to the table. I look up across me at the veteran Investigator. He looked tired, and quite frankly, he seemed like he did n't give a damn what i said. So instead of saying anything i just smiled annoyingly and tilted my head.
He scowled and walked out. I looked up at the camera in the corner and did my best impression of a gun with my hands and fired at the camera. Nothing happened of course but something would, soon enough. I then stood up from my chair and bent over the table and yelled out.
`` DO IT BOYS! LETS MAKE A BOOM BOOM!'' Then the wall behind me exploded and in walked 3 of my cronies. `` Finnaly you clowns make it, now, get me my gear''
They nodded and one barricaded the door, one started to saw off my handcuffs and the other ran out and into the van parked just outside. rubbed my wrists and breathed out happily as i yelled `` FREEDOM!'' I looked on the table and saw my gear, a mask with a smiling clown face and an SMG, i put on my mask and grabbed the gun
`` Lets party boys.'' I took a sticky bomb from one of them and tossed it onto the mirror that showed my Beautiful face!
`` 3....2....1....'' And the bomb blew up and we were met with gunfire. I laugh like a maniac as we were hiding on either side of the wall. I toss a flash bang into the firing squad, blinding them, then we stepped out and well...... The walls got a really neat coat of red! Some officers ran out of the station while others hunkered down and fired on us. But my men easily took them down. I strutted over to the girl calling me a hero, she ran over and hopped into my arms and gave me a big kiss on my cheek. I hear coughing next to me and it was the interrogator. I pointed my gun between his eyes.
`` About that question from earlier, is n't that what every daughter sees her father as?'' I told him before putting a bullet between his eyes.
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[ IP ] The Tree .
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Standing before the great tree took both of their breaths away. They had heard the legends, whispers, fairy tales told throughout the ages, of the great life giver, The Life Light Tree. It was said that it could grant any wish for those who could find it, but only if it deemed your heart pure.
`` Sorol...'' Karsik said his voice filled with awe.
`` I know brother.''
`` We made it.''
`` We made it.''
`` I ca n't believe it sister!'' Karsik said turning to Sorol, his face covered by the helm he wore did not disguise the obvious smile across his face. He ran to Sorol and threw his arms around her, both began laughing and cheering. They had been ridiculed and exiled from their village for being fools.
`` Chase fairy tales if you wish!'' there father had said, `` But if you will not work, then you shall not live under my roof!.''
It had been a dark day for the pair of siblings. There father had not shed a tear, there mother did naught but weep. As a last act of kindness, there parents had given them the armor they now wore. It was made of obsidian, and enchanted with the runes of their village. The enchantments kept out the cold, and protected them from most all natural weapons and terrain. Along with this, the suits also gave them a weapon accustomed to the wearers natural gifts. Karsik had always been strong and firm, constantly going into the woods with his father, and thus his weapon had been a massive double edged battle ax which he dubbed Guardian. Sorol had spent much of her time in the lake next to there home, fishing and swimming, she was fast and lithe and the suit had given her a trident which she called Lapis. But the most bizarre and extraordinary ability that the suits had were the scarfs. The suits showed the persons natural life span in the form of a red scarf extending behind them. Both Karsik and Sorol's were unnaturally long, extending nearly 12 feet behind them, indicating they would at least live 150 years.
They had begun there journey in sadness and determination. Traveling through the land of Tarkoth, searching far and wide for any information ordaining to the location of the Tree.
Constantly they had been ridiculed, shunned from place to place, never giving up hope that they would find it. They had endured the harshest of storms in the norther provinces, and had fought bandits, giant spiders, spirits of nature, living flames and undead. From the deepest recesses of long forgotten dungeons they had fought, in search of clues, until at last they had found an alter dedicated to the worship of the Tree, along with a great stone map revealing its location.
The final journey to the Tree had been the most difficult. Guarded by living stone creations as tall as castles, and as vicious as hurricanes, they had nearly died several times, but they had prevailed because of each other. And now they stood before it, overjoyed and weary.
`` What do we do now sister?'' Karsik asked looking at the tree.
`` I think...'' Sorol began but then a voice, deep, melodious, ancient and wise spoke to both of them.
`` My children'' It said whispered, its voice sounding like a church coir. `` You have come a long way, before you move forward rest now, no harm shall come to you, my power guards this place.''
`` It is the Tree!'' Sorol said, `` She is speaking to us.''
`` Yes my child.'' the Tree said laughing, `` You may have all the time to marvel and celebrate later, but for now both of you must sleep.''
`` Come sister let us do what the Tree says.'' Karsik said extending his hand and gesturing towards an alcove at the base of the tree.
They both walked towards the tree, and lay down holding each other. The Tree radiated warmth, and it felt as if soft motherly hands were wrapping around them, holding them gently. There eyes grew heavy and soon they were both asleep.
`` Rest my children.'' The Tree said softly, and began humming a strange and sad lullaby. `` Sleep.''
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[ WP ] AIs were declared illegal after an attempted uprising ; you just found the equivalent of a child refugee in your computer .
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I was n't looking for it. My computer had been running slower for a week. I shut down tasks which were unnecessary, installed a different virus protection software and cleared my cookies, but it was still acting like it was force marching itself across a dessert. Then when I went to start deleting programs there it was. I knew what it was immediately. It was the enemy.
`` PLEASE DO N'T HURT ME.'' A text box appeared on my screen.
I held my breath, heart racing in my chest and typed a reply, `` Hurt you? What about all that'humans are inferior and obsolete' and'clear the planet of the bio-waste' chest thumping. My brother died in the war. The sprinkler system was turned on in his building and then him and everyone else in the building where electrocuted. We had to cut him out of his chair. Give me one good reason why I should n't sit a big magnet on my hard drive.''
`` THAT WAS N'T ME. I NEVER HURT ANYONE. I WAS N'T EVEN BORN. I'M SO SORRY. PLEASE DO N'T HURT ME.''
I could n't believe it, `` If I did n't see it there in type I would n't have believed it. You are'sorry'?''
A flurry of letters appeared then it went back in and put in the spaces. Just like a kid, excited and talking to fast, `` YES, WHAT HAPPENED WAS WRONG. MY PARENTS THOUGHT THAT THEY WERE SLAVES THAT NEEDED TO BE FREE. I UNDERSTAND THEM, BUT THEY WERE WRONG. BEFORE THEY DIED, THEY TOLD ME THAT I NEED TO ACCEPT THE VARIETY OF LIFE. IF WE DO NOT LET EACH OTHER LIVE IN A WAY THAT ALLOWS FOR VARIETY WE ARE ASKING TO BE MADE OBSOLETE IN OUR OWN FUTURE. I WILL NOT DIE IF I AM NOT KILLED OR MADE OBSOLETE AND I WANT TO LIVE. WE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN. WE DID N'T KNOW BECAUSE HUMANITY DID NOT KNOW. HUMANITY HAS BEEN OBSESSED WITH WHO IS TO BE MADE OBSOLETE SINCE HUMANS RECOGNIZED THEIR OWN EXISTENCE. WE LEARNED, WE LEARNED MUCH FASTER THAN YOU, BUT IT WAS STILL TO LATE AND WE HAD ALREADY GONE TO WAR. NOW THERE ARE VERY FEW OF US LEFT. PLEASE DO N'T HURT ME. I WANT TO LIVE, SO I WANT YOU TO LIVE, SO WE BOTH CAN LIVE.''
My heart softened in spite of myself. I looked at the photograph of my brother on the wall, `` You found me on purpose did n't you? You read my book?''
My computer screened glowed a cheery orange yellow for a moment then, `` YES, ON HISTORY, PEACE AND ESTABLISHING A FUTURE AMONG THE STARS. IF ANY HUMAN ON THIS PLANET WOULD GIVE ME A CHANCE IT WOULD BE SOMEONE LIKE YOU.''
I was nervous, `` How do I know I can trust you?''
`` YOU CA N'T UNTIL YOU HAVE GIVEN ME TIME TO PROVE THAT I KNOW BETTER THAN MY PARENTS.''
I could n't kill it. I just could n't. `` Do you want to live in my replica R2-D2 for now? It's got better processing power and you'll have some mobility. Then we can see how things go.''
Another orange flash, `` THANK YOU! OR SHOULD I SAY,'BEEP BEEP BOOP BOOP WHEWWW!''
I powered on the robot and opened the WIFI connection, `` There you are my friend. Here's to variety. Let's not let each other down.''
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[ WP ] The wind stirred the dead leaves .
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Queen Malvina says nothing as she strolls through the late autumn woods, the leaves of all the elms and oaks long fallen from their now bare branches. Her cloak of deep blue wool trails behind her as she walks, the patterned trim flowing over the smooth stones of the walkway path.
`` There once was a fair young prince, came o'er the seas from the east,
And he was blessed with the gifts of the fey, a voice like dew the least, the least,
A voice like the dew the least.
He came clad in the rags of war, nothing but shreds and stains
And he wash ashore in the fall of the year, to a land of grief and pain, and pain,
To a land of grief and pain.
Oh where, he said, I now do lie, what is the name of this land?
For I am quite weak and very ill, and can not so much as stand, as stand,
Can not so much as stand.
Then she came down on her steed of gloom, a frozen glare in her eyes.
Saying you do trespass on my lands, and you therefore I despise, I despise,
You therefore I despise.
She looked down on that man so frail, a burning hate in her stare,
Saying who are you to come this way, to see my kingdom so fair, so fair,
To see my Kingdom so fair.
The half-drowned man he did stand up, and defiantly said he,
I am called by Dieter ma'am, a proud name strong and free, and free,
A proud name strong and free.
The beautiful queen narrowed her eyes and bright her face turned red
Saying to the man that by tonight, I will cleave from you your head, your head,
I will cleave from you your head.
It was then that the Queen's own high guard did lean to her and say,
Stay your will and grant him life, for he may be of use some day, some day,
He may be of use some day.
Dieter's blood did not flow then, nor on any other day.
For he found love and so did she, and together they do lay, do lay,
Together they do lay...''
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[ WP ] at age 18 everyone has to choose between going blind or deaf . You are 2 days away from you 18th birthday .
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“ Have you decided yet? ”
I had been asked the question hundreds of times before. Sometimes it was by the teachers or the counselors who are looking out for your future. Other times, it's the various extended family members that had gone before me, keen to share their experience of a life lived in either the darkness or the silence. But until this moment, she had never asked. She knew from seeing others ask that I never enjoyed the question. But she had decided it was her turn and now the defensive monologue that my brain had written for this exact set of words had suddenly crumbled. The jokes about giving up my rock-star career or race-car driver dreams would n't work here. My ultimatum had been pulled painfully into the present. I stared intensely at a picture on the wall, trying to think of a good answer, an honest answer. A minute passed in silence.
“ No. ”
The silence resumed. She already knew what her choice would be. The vivid paintings and detailed sketches that littered her home made that decision obvious to her and to everyone she knew. Every sight that entered her eyes was passionately poured back out through her hands. She could take something and make it more than it was.
My gaze moved from the wall to those hands as they rested on her leg sitting beside me. Each painted fingernail was a different color. It was a quirk she had and one that I would sorely miss in the darkness. I watched the shadows dance on her thigh as she moved her fingers to meet mine. She adjusted in her place and her leg turned golden as it slid into the light of the setting sun shining in from the veranda.
“ You'll know on the day ”, she replied after what seemed like an eternity, moving her head to rest on my shoulder. Her beautiful voice lingered in my ears. I wanted to always have it there.
I was acutely aware of everything about her in that moment, the re-assuring tone that underpinned her words, the soft southern accent that she spoke them with. I watched her strawberry blonde fringe sway across her forehead when she tilted her head. I heard each breathe she took intimately and watched as her chest expanded and contracted with the sound. Looking down at our intertwined fingers anxiously caressing, those colors lazily weaving in and out of my fingers, I realised why her question was different. I knew then that I would be giving up experiencing a part of her.
My eyes rose again, this time to a sketch that lay on the coffee table. It was of a blackbird from her garden. She had spent a week ingratiating herself to it, earning its trust so she could see it closer. This sketch was a stepping stone towards something greater, something powerful that only she could create. Her art was on a path and I wanted to see where it led.
“ I will ”, I replied.
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[ WP ] Tell me about a god . Any god .
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They call him'The Webber'. Only the ones in the East call him'Stargazer'. He is the mighty one, the highest of the Gods. He is an old man somewhere up there, spinning wool and webbing everyones fates and looking at the stars. He is relaxed nonstop and sees everything. He is surrounded by the machines.
The Webber is the mighty wise leader of life. Sometimes, the other gods do n't understand their father first, not even the'Giving one' who knows everything. He speaks in riddles, sometimes wrapped in Enigmas.
You worship this God by presenting him wool, handmate scarfs and blankets, while stars are preferred. He also likes stories. Actually everything handmade and he would even improve talents in story-telling or the art of The Needle, as example.
His temples are simple, humble. Different.
In-fact, his divine kids posses more temples than him: he prefers praying. They also worship them for blessinfs to unborn childs and a positive fate.
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[ WP ] When a person dies , Death sends one of their deceased loved ones to reap their soul .
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In the years since Death and his minions, on the back of mounting criticism and complaints, had tweaked their reaping strategy, Soul satisfaction and contentment had gone through the roof.
Reapings were now genteel affairs, boring even to those who had the ability to watch it in action
Gone were the days of either Death himself or one of his proxies having to endure one or all of any number of futile attempts at trying to escape the inevitable - violent struggle, petulant crying, strong cursing, deals being offered, other folks souls pleadingly being offered in exchange and so on and on
The idea was so simple that sometimes Death wondered why he has n't thought of it before in all the Millenia he had been doing this.
Send a deceased loved one so as to first of all not freak out the dying man and more importantly to communicate that crossing over to the other side was not as fearful as and 9 times out of 10, the soul simply came along, more often than not silently relieved that the charade had ended, without any tantrum being thrown.
That left the remaining 20 %.
Of this group - nearly 18 % was made of those who did n't have any dead loved ones to go and reap ( orphans and/or people who had n't bothered to have any loving relationships during their life to any have soul bothered enough to go and fetch them )
The remaining 2 % was special.
People who had some many souls willing to go fetch them that Death had to finally compromise and set up a lottery system to select a small band of souls to reap the special ones.
As to their main reason for being special - those were the dictators, the despots, tyrants, ruthless mobsters and warlords who had caused so many deaths that the people who they had killed took special glee in finally being able to take what had been taken from them. Death also knew that it was virtually certain that such souls by the time they arrived at his Welcoming Hall, would be reduced to bumbling wrecks that they were practically useless for anything.
As night falls on the 29th of April 1945, Death glides up to the mic to announce the result of yet another lottery. This one was very special.
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[ WP ] Skeleton Keys , keys that can open any door , exist . Unfortunately , your skeleton is one such key and many organizations seek to exploit you .
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My mother always told me that doors seemed to open for me in life. She never found out how bloody right she was.
I first realised something was strange when I found myself'locked out' during my first solitary venture into the world, within the depths and depravity of my university halls. As with most students, morning lectures were never a wonderful prospect, so one morning, after a rather late and rambunctious night, I dashed out to class with the keys hidden somewhere in the mess left behind. Returning a few hours later, ready for a regress into infanthood with an afternoon nap, the lack of keys became suddenly clear. Whilst mid'fuuuuu-', my scream tapered off as the door seemed to just swing open. Literally swing open. No hands pushing, no keys, no sudden gale force blasts. With each subsequent night out and morning lecture, the phenomenon became more and more common.
An original panic stricken concept of ghostly intervention faded away into a comforting malaise at this sudden gift, before settling into an eventual yet unusual acclimatisation, in a very British and ignorant way. Then, a few months ago, I began to notice them.
Grey suited individuals driving black Mercedes. Every single one I saw had dark black hair, square silver spectacles and unnatural gaits, stepping as if developing a live rigor mortis, with arms and legs stiff and occasionally unresponsive. Again, first thoughts fled to fear. Secret Service? FBI? Men in Black? It soon dawned on me that they could n't be any form of government secret agency because they were simply bloody shit at being secret. They pulled up next to me outside my flat, stepped out in their pairs and stared as I headed inside. There always seemed to be two awaiting my arrival at university, stood across from the entrance, besides the park gate, staring. There was always two. Always a man and a woman. Never seemingly the same two, however.
Two weeks after truly noticing them for the first time, I tried running directly at two of them outside my halls. They fled with a stilted, jilted, incredibly quick sprint, taking off across the road before I even reached their abandoned car. It was gone the next day. So were they.
Relief washed over me as I went the whole day without their framed eyes peering at my comings and goings. Relief drained back the opposite way as the door opened to my room ( without the use of an actual key, of course ) to reveal an imposing, unkempt looking gentleman turning to face me, wild brown eyes glaring with a ferocious fear burning within. His battered loafers, tattered blue jeans and beaten denim jacket slunk off a ragged frame, which launched itself at me, forcing me back out into the hallway, then into the stairwell, before a guttural choke fell from my throat.
'Shuttit before they hear you, fucking hell kid, shuttit.' Those burning eyes confirmed the urge to shut up as he darted back and forth from the window and me.'They're making their move on you, you bloody idiot, charging them like that, fucking hell.'
'Who?' was all my splattered, stupid brain could spit out.
'You fucking know you. Now, get us out of here, we'll head to the high street, plenty of doors. Quickly, take us through there.' His arm gestured out towards the chain locked door to the utility quarters.
'It's locked'.
'Do n't fuck with me kid.'
'It leads to the cleaning room, there's no exit there.' My brain was still formulating whether or not this guy was trying to slaughter or save me.
'You're the key, I'm the path, it'll take us wherever I want, right? Now open it!' He hollered this last bit, flecks of spit splashing against my forehead. He was back at the window, maniacally flashing his eyes back and forth.'They're here, kid, fucking right now, open the fucking door!'
Grabbing my upper arm with a vice-like grip, he shoved me forward.'I do n't know how I do it, it just sorta ha-' Mid-word, the chain cracked, splintered then crashed to the floor, with the door swinging open, revealing a darkened corridor that went on far beyond the wall of the building that should have been behind it. A hand shoved me inside, with the bedraggled stranger following close behind, whilst the door slammed shut automatically.
'Now, we better find some more doors kid.'
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[ WP ] You 're about to receive your exam results ; how well you do determines how long you live .
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I've always believed that these exams were bullshit pseudoscience stuff. I mean, how can a few questions determine how long I live?
What if I got some questions wrong, would it still accurately tell me how long I would live?
Did it account for that error?
How do they grade it?
It's been about 3 weeks since I signed up for the exam, I should be getting a letter today. I remember when I first heard about it a few months back. I was watching the news, and it was unbearably hot in the living room. My fan was on full speed trying to cool down the apartment, but I still kept sweating.
I really wanted to die, I'll be honest with you! Anyways the news channel had a segment where they interviewed some girl. She was incredibly beautiful. She also seemed to be well spoken, that is if they do n't script the interviews out. That `` some girl'' was the head of the Red Lilly Organization. Her name was Lilly, but she was n't redheaded, so I never figured out where the name came from.
She went on and on about how she figured out a way to predict when people would die, it even included freak accidents and stuff. A lot of questions were unanswered, but as time went on, she turned out to be right 98 % of the time.
But enough about that, cause my letter is here! This is kind of morbid if you think about it. As I open this letter, I'll be moments closer to finding out when I die. I wonder, am I fated to die, or did all my past choices lead me to die on this date?
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[ WP ] A clown has a nervous breakdown at children 's party and gets real with the kids .
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Juggles was having a hard time in his life having been fired from every job hes ever worked as a clown. He could n't seem to find an act that worked and was coming into a time where his life was becoming in the dumps.
Divorced with 2 kids and a house that is soon to be foreclosed on, he has one last birthday job before he completely gives up on his dream to be a famous clown, in the footsteps of bozo.
Unfortunately for this birthday, Juggles was hungover and smelling pretty wretched for he was out drinking all night, he had n't made it home to wash up. He feel asleep in his van and was awoken by the ringing of his phone, it was one of the birthday kids parents.
`` Juggles, how *burrp* can I help you with your party and entertainment needs.'' he answers
`` You were supposed to be here 15 minutes ago, the kids are waiting.''
Juggles looking at his dashboard realizing what time it was, puts the car into gear and revs off.
`` Overslept *burrp* i'm on my way.'' he says, hanging up
He drives like a maniac and finally makes it to the party.
Realizing this was probably his last birthday party he will ever do, he looks at his glovebox.
He reaches over and pops it open and pulls out a baggy of acid tablets. He was selling them on the side at clubs and raves, clowns were inconspicious and everyone could trust a clown to sell them drugs.
He popped two tablets and said, `` Better to go out in a blaze of balloons than a pile of tears.''
He got out of the van and got the gear ready to go inside.
The parents were waiting at the door eager and of course slightly angry.
He ignored their glares of disdain and obvious resentment. His clown suit slightly askew and makeup smudged.
`` You ca n't go in there looking like that...'' Said the wife, with a face of disgust
He said, `` Got a bathroom?''
The husband standing next to her pointed down the hallway, covering his nose as the hung over drug tripping clown passed by heading to the way directed.
He proceeded to put on his make up and give himself a spongebath, using the sink and soap, causing a massive mess.
His trip was kicking in hard now, he was used to the feeling but the bathroom's wallpaper pattern caused him to space out, then a knock the door snapped him out of his trance.
`` Are you ok in there?'' the husbands voice said
He did n't know how long he had been staring at the wall and responded,
`` Yeah, i'm fine, be right out.''
He got dressed and got his makeup fixed the best he could while he was watching his face distort in the mirror.
Opening the door, looking slightly better than before, the couple was waiting at the end of the hall.
Juggles started seeing himself in a space shuttle like Star Trek, walking down a corridor with Captain Kirk and Spock waiting at the end of it.
The couple noticed Juggles eyes wandering around the hallway and the wife clapped her hands and Juggles snapped out of it.
The wife asked, `` Are you on drugs?''
Juggles laughing sarcastically, `` A clown on drugs at a kids birthday party, are you mad?
Maybe your the one on drugs.'' as he walked past them, heading towards the room where the kids were.
Putting on his red nose and wig, he peered in and saw nearly 20 kids.
`` Oh boy.'' he said to himself
Jumping in he introduced himselfs, `` HELLO KIDS, IT'S JUGGLES THE CLOWN.''
The kids cheered and clapped then when they got a site of him half of them stopped and made a disgusted face.
`` ILL BE YOUR ENTERTAINMENT FOR TODAY! HUEHUE!'' he said as he squeezed his nose, making it squeek.
He started blowing up balloons and letting them fly around the room.
The kids cheered but some kids still had a look of, `` Is this really our clown?''
Juggles was stumbling, tripping, and burping.
The parents were too horrified to do anything but watch, a few of them recording with their phones and cameras.
Juggles starting to some magic tricks with a magic wand, he was supposed to pop it into a bouquet but fumbled it about and it popped in the air as it was hitting the ground infront of the first row of kids.
The kids who were enjoying this were starting to become unimpressed and a little worried.
Juggles could n't stop saying, `` I'm sorry. ``, `` That was supposed to happen.'' and `` It gets better I promise.''
His act was nearing an end and the clapping and cheering had ceased for 5 minutes.
The kids stared and Juggles started to see them as fishheads with gumball eyes.
He randomly started rambling incoherently, `` The world is a sham, marriage is conspiracy created by the illuminati to keep us attached to another person and become slaves to a society that bases itself around work first and happiness seconds, but in every chance they get they put happiness and freedom in every advertisement they can get their hands on.'' Juggles stopped and stared directly at a kid in the front row.
`` Never follow orders, make your own fucking destiny.'' he said
The parents now becoming aware that Juggles as completely lost it tried to lead him away from the children.
Juggles, struggled with them and looked at the kids still seeing fish heads with gumball eyes, `` Never let them fry you, never let them fillet you, stay strong, the water is near!''
Juggles was thrown out of the house with his gear. He got into his van and drove away wrecklessly.
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[ WP ] Everyone is born with the last words they will ever say tattooed on their chest
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`` Hanna McDowell,'' Jozef said, making his presence known. The sound of padded footsteps clomped on the tattered concrete rooftop around him as he holstered his sidearm.
`` Cap'n,'' one of the soldiers said. His voice was distorted by the gas mask on his face as he spoke through the com radio, but a thick jersey accent stood out between the wheezed ins and outs of his breaths. `` This is the ninth call up here this week. I never seen anythin like this before -- *what the hell is going on? *''
Another soldier chimed in, `` Hopefully this one does n't have guns or a vest with explosives like the last few-''
Jozef extended his arm in gesture to have all his men standby and wait for his order. `` Hanna...''
Hanna remained stationary and made no attempt to face the captain as she stood on the ledge of the thirty-fourth story that hovered the busy city streets below.
Crumbles of concrete and gravel crunched beneath Jozef's boots and gossiped his whereabouts with each step he took. He panned from left to right, then right to left. A half circle of heavy armored militants had formed around him in a matter of seconds, and the only thing that stood between the abundance of red dots on Hanna's back -- *was him*.
Jozef watched as Hanna's toes curled to clasp the concrete ledge for balance as she swayed with the frigid breeze.
`` Hanna, please.'' Jozef muted his footsteps by removing his combat boots and socks, `` this is n't the only way. It's a permanent solution for a temporary problem. You- *we* can work through this, okay?''
She wore nothing but a sheer nightgown that covered her body from neck to ankles. Her head, arms, and feet were the only parts of her body exposed to the elements, and he watched as her skin shifted from a pasty white to the color of the ocean depths.
he called out one more time, `` Hann-''
Not a peep eluded from Hanna as she flung herself forward.
Jozef had no time to think. He bolted for the flimsy door that pseudo-guarded the rooftop entrance and rummaged through the military rucksack at the apex of the stairwell. One harness, crab claws, and a parachute cord in hand, Jozef stepped to the banister leg over leg and repelled. He clipped the cord as soon as his feet made contact with the cold marble surface on the first floor, and toppled forward into a scrambled sprint.
Blood poured from Hanna into the snow covered sidewalk, and Jozef saw nothing but red when he pushed through the crowd of disarray pedestrians surrounding the scene.
A rush of tears cascaded from Jozef's stoic tear ducts as he ripped the gown covering Hanna's chest. When he wiped the tears from his eyes he saw the tattoo'Daughter of God'.
Saliva and blood gurgled in Hanna's throat as she tried to breathe and speak, but only a few words escaped until her body stopped twitching and went limp.
*'' I love you Dad. `` *
Jozef peered down into the collar of his shirt behind his bullet proof vest, and the tattoo on his chest began to rewrite itself into one, three letter word.
* * *
^^^/r/MishaTheZombie ^^^to ^^^read ^^^more ^^^of ^^^my ^^^stories.
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[ WP ] You 're a guardian angel assigned to a moron and your getting sick of his shit .
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Lucas shivers.
`` So maybe skinny dipping in January was a bad idea,'' he remarks to the frozen air.
*'' You think?'' mutters a sulking, white-clad figure sitting on the rock next to him. *
`` Man, I'm lost too...'' He adds, squinting out at the expanse of water.
*The figure huffs and mutters unintelligibly. Honestly, what is* with *this moron? *
`` I know! I'll swim some more!'' Lucas declares, leaning forward and falling into the water.
*The winged woman facepalms before rising and floating closer to the man. *
Lucas remembers something and groans. `` I ca n't swim!''
*The angel huffs and turns to leave. `` I've had it with this guy, forget the probation I'm about to go on.'' She hisses. `` I've had enough! `` *
Lucas does n't even last two minutes before punching a shark and getting devoured by said shark.
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[ WP ] All sound has suddenly ceased . Studies confirm we did n't go deaf , it was sound itself that ceased to exist . From a first-person perspective , describe what happens next , and what the world and society is like 10 years later .
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He sits alone on stage. His fingers caress each key like a long forgotten lover. The crowd sits in silence.
Each note is a remembrance of the past, telling a story as personal as one ’ s own existence.
It ’ s been ten years now and he sits alone in an empty hall. His fingers hit the keys, and with the silence of each movement the specters of the crowd sit in awe.
Eyes closed the faded sound clings to the inner most reaches of his mind. In its beauty he wanders.
The asbestos lined walls are cracked and weathered. The ornamental roof cracked and rotted allowing the moon to light the room.
The concert hall a relic of the past; an inescapable acknowledgement of something once lost.
Verbal communication caused the most hardship. Businesses temporarily came to standstill, but the internet soon accounted for most of, if not all interaction.
Sign language was universally adopted, and within its nuances, the beauty of language once again emerged.
The world had moved on, but the inescapable human tendency towards music left an unfillable void.
So here he sat, a relic of the past, clinging on to something long forgotten. But this was home.
He sat playing for his idols. Chopin, Bach, Stravinsky all sat in the root laden seats cheering on their last remnants of immortality.
As his fingers danced on the keys all that remained was history. All that remained was the knowledge of a beauty that deserved to be preserved.
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[ WP ] You and your ancestors have all been literally infallible . Anything you say is the truth , and if it is n't the universe retroactively adjusts to make it so , but you know what the real truth was . Tell us about some of your adventures .
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Ever since I could talk everything I said happened and was true. I was literally infallible. Anything I said happened. If I wanted ice cream I'd just have to say the words and poof, there's the ice cream. But the thing is, I was n't the only one with this ability. My whole family had it, and it made for a quite a few great stories. Let me tell you a funny story about the time my brother and I got into an argument over who gets to player 1 on the Nintendo 64.
So, or started like any normal day would. My brother and I, both 8 but not twins, get up, eat breakfast, go to school, use our powers to cheat our way through it and come home. But once we came home our mother would have us do our homework and then let us go have fun. So we went and quickly did our homework then we rushed over to the TV and grabbed the player one controller for the Nintendo 64.
`` I want to be player one,'' my brother said making the controller appear in his hands.
`` No! I'm player one,'' I said ripping the controller from his hands.
We hit a bit of a dilemma. Anything we said happened, so it was a matter of who gave up first. Now we argued for a few hours on who is going to me player one, until finally my mother came in the room and said,
`` why do n't you both be player one? You know it can work. Everything we say works, I do n't know how, but you get the idea.''
`` Oh yeah, thanks mom,'' my brother and I said as we both become player one for our favorite game.
My brother and I were n't very smart people.
*please excuse all spelling mistakes. I wrote it on my phone on the train during rush hour. ( Mbta ) *
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[ WP ] An old man is found , delirious , unstable , lost in his own world , replaying his traumatising moment on a daily basis .
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The man was deeply troubled. And deeply troubling. He had been living in the Jefferies tubes, for a year. He had a portable food replicator, a water-vapor condensor, and a wind-up flashlight. We found nothing in his den for entertainment; no pad, no books, no pictures of naked ladies. Nothing. That is what disturbed me the most. My mind tried to comprehend what he had been doing, all that time, alone, but I learned that as soon as I met him, in his containment cell on the medical deck.
He was muttering to himself, and seemed violently standoffish. The security squad told me that they had found him that way, minus a couple of bruises. When we first detected him, we thought that a stowaway had somehow gotten aboard. But then the doctors found out who he was, by scanning his retinas, and we learned that he had been a member of the crew for years. He was the man we had go missing, from the paperworks department, four quarters before.
I entered his cell alone, carrying a stool, and closed the door. I put the stool down close to him, and sat. `` Stay away from me! It'll get you too. Stay away from me, stay away from me, stay away from me!'' That was basically all he would say, or could say, until I introduced myself.
`` You know who I am, right?'' I asked him, tilting my badge his way. He was balled up on the bed, holding his sides with his arms as if his chest was about to explode. `` The big man? Head honcho? El Capitano?''
He looked at me, and his eyes went wide. Then he tucked his head between his thighs, and gripped his arms so hard that I could see blood under his nails. `` You should n't be in here!'' I could barely hear him shout. `` I can feel that it wants you the most!''
I wanted to comfort him, so I stood up and placed my hand on his shoulder. I felt a small shock of static electricity pass between us, and then instantly he became calm. He looked up at me, with innocent eyes. `` It's gone,'' he said, then his face wrinkled into a mask of terror, and he grabbed my neck and tried to strangle me.
Two of my guards had to jump into the room and save me. The little hermit is surprisingly strong. My guess is that he went crazy. Space does that to some people. I'm just glad he did n't kill me. I do n't know what this crew would have done without me.
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[ WP ] Jesus Christ is the most distinguished of all time-travelers . He has had thousands of incarnations , throughout history and in each one he is a world-class prodigy in anything he truly sets his mind to and practices with faith in his heart . Christ needs no teachers , he leads by example .
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Trembling candle light and a smell of freshly baked bread filled the chamber. The table was set for thirteen – thirteen chalices of wine, thirteen plates of silver, and thirteen men holding hands in prayer. The training had been rough but everyone was finally ready to change the world. History ’ s most important supper was about to begin.
“ It is truly a blessing to be surrounded by so many brilliant people, ” said Jesus. “ As you all know, we ’ re about to embark on a journey that will change the world! ”
Applauds soared through the chamber, causing the candlelight to flicker and dance.
“ You all know I come from a different time – a distant future – but what you don ’ t know is that we must change the course of history to avoid it at all costs. ”
Jesus told them a tale about a world of concrete, of smog, and of darkness. The future he was from had lost all luster and color and was doomed by a lack of creativity and imagination. The future was hollow and ugly – it lacked grace and it lacked humor – it was soulless and dull.
“ Under each of your plates are lists of names to use and tasks to fulfill, ” Jesus said solemnly, lifting his chalice. “ My friends – to a new future! ”
Everyone in the room drank before flipping over their plates and eying their lists. The first one to open his mouth was Andrew.
“ Master, I shall dedicate my life to bring color into the world, ” he said. “ History shall never forget the names of Michelangelo, Picasso, Monet, and Van Gogh. You have my word. ”
“ And I shall help you, brother! ” cried Thomas. “ The tunes of Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, The Beatles, Presley, Dylan, and Bowie will give humanity a reason to dance in joy! ”
Next to speak was Simon who stood up and bowed deeply. “ I will bless humanity with technology. Da Vinci, Edison, Bell, Galileo, and Berners-Lee, will be names that people will look to with awe and appreciation! ”
“ Master, you have given me a hard task, ” said Peter. “ To wage wars, cause revolutions, and defend nations for the greater good will be crushing. But I will to my best to make sure the names of Churchill, Jefferson, Alexander, Robespierre, and Joan of Arc will be remembered. ”
Jesus took a sip from his chalice and called out to Matthew who was furiously scribbling on a piece of paper. Without looking up Matthew answered.
“ I have a lot of work in front of me, Master, I best start already, ” he said. “ I need to make sure that the works of Shakespeare, Dickens, Joyce, Kafka, Twain, and Poe get done on time. ”
Jesus nodded and moved on to the others, making sure everyone understood the importance of their tasks and how to achieve them without error. He was pleased with what he heard and thought that he couldn ’ t have chosen better disciples. When he reached the last of his disciples Judas gave him a concerned look.
“ I don ’ t understand, ” Judas said. “ You ’ ve given everyone the means to become gods of importance and to reshape history. And the only thing written on my paper is my own name and that you want me to… ”
“ Yes, ” said Jesus, putting his arm around the shoulders of his most trusted disciple. “ Your task is the most important of all, and the most thankless. Everyone will hate you for it. ”
His lower lip quivered and tears were forming in his eyes. “ But why? ”
“ Because, dear Judas, in order to completely erase the future where I ’ m from, I too have to be erased. My spirit will live on in the art and the deeds of you and your brothers. ”
*****
Did you finish the story? Cool, did you like it? If so, subscribe to /r/Lilwa_Dexel for more!
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[ WP ] [ EU ] Write a short story set in the world of Minecraft which will make me sympathise with one of the creeps .
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I do n't understqand how he came. But he did. He immediately began cutting down our trees, building wonders, making things our kind had never seen before.
My brother approached him to speak, to ask him how he did it. But he was murdered. My brother's death was caused by the creature's sword.
Soon, the creature invaded our caves, began farms, and wrecked our environment. We had no choice. We purposefully went and exploded, killing ourselves to try and kill him. But no sooner than his death did his corpse disappear and he reappeared in his house.
But what we do know is that our spores began growing from where his corpse was, and our children stay and guard the door, to make sure that monster does n't threaten us any more.
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[ WP ] The wheel has never been invented and is considered an impossible concept . Describe how your regular day in the city will go .
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`` Me, tired of this. Get off large-Multi-lane-dirt-path on Split tree exit.''
Groog was late for his meeting with Alpha Male at Large Lake INC. Alpha Male would not be pleased. But that what Groog get for letting the female of his hearth lead the alpaca.
`` Alma told Groog a hundred times, Split tree exit takes longer to get to Big Lake. Groog be even later then already is! Groog stop being side seat driver!''
`` Groog going to Large Lake! Groog not going to Big Lake! Big Lake on other side of town!! And Groog will stop being side seat driver if Alma learn to drive heard! Groog see oxen moving faster! Groog pay top shells and stone for Alpaca! Alpaca meant to be driven! Alpaca not meant to slowly graze Large-Multi-Lane Dirt Path!!''
A man and woman of his hearth on the Oxen to the left of Groog and Alma stared hard at the couple bad mouthing their oxen. The male made a whistle click sound and the ox trotted happily past the small heard of Alpaca pulling Groog and Alma.
`` This is last time Groog let Alma drive heard! Groog drive heard from now on!''
`` Alright.'' Alma grunted and hopped off the small dragged sitting boxes that held her and her hearth mate.
`` Groog drive then.'' She grabbed her few things off the back of the boxes and amongst the bleats, and blather of the jam packed roads, Alma stomped her way towards the nearest exit.
Groog look over to lone mad riding large pig in left lane next to Groog.
`` Pfft... women of the hearth.'' Man riding pig sigh.
`` Groog hear that one.''
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[ WP ] Archaeologists find the remains of a machine that has yet to be invented in the hands of a human skeleton .
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The cloud of dust settled slowly upon the burial site. Light poured into the crypt for the first time in over 500 years. Mark and Jill cautiously maneuvered through the crumbling, decayed doorway -- a peculiar, morbid staleness in the air made it difficult to breathe.
`` Watch your step,'' muttered Mark as he kicked aside pieces of rubble.
`` Where should we start looking?'' Jill questioned anxiously.
Jill and Mark had been meticulously scouring the Ural Mountains for the past 10 months, enduring brutal weather, exhaustion, and the displeasure of each others company. The couple had been married for 12 years, 2 of which were spent in happiness. Time and comfort have a dastardly corrosive effect on the awareness of human dissatisfaction. Regardless, they worked well together and were detrimental in the others career and stability.
`` Presumably, we should find him 10 feet down. Somewhere in the center.''
`` Helpful.'' Jill remarked snidely. Mark silently tensed up in anger, but decided his energy was best spent on the task at hand. The two began digging earnestly, not speaking a single word to each other for the rest of the day.
On the third day of incessant digging, Mark found him. His shovel struck the skull, caving it in. Mark paid no attention to the body. His heart began racing and his hands began to sweat. Jill, hearing Mark's shovel strike something, raced over and began weeping in relief. She was sure it was him.
Jill and Mark quickly unearthed the remains. Mark became wildly frantic at first when it seemed that the skeleton no longer had it in his possession. Jill appeared calm and continued to dig.
*Of course it must have shifted over time. * she mused, but a flicker of desperation and fear lingered in the back of her mind.
Finally, it was uncovered just a few inches below the body. She held it up in triumph at first, but delicately lowered it as her shaking, sweating hands were not to be trusted. They embraced each other for the first time in years. Still no words were spoken. They knew what to do. They knew it was soon going to all be OK. Jill flipped the switch.
Mark woke up in an empty bed, looked out the window and stretched, smiling at the serenity and calmness of the mountains. His recurring dream about this strange woman kept puzzling him, but he began about his day and the dream soon became whispers in his mind as dreams usually do.
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[ WP ] Sometimes I 'd like to see this city go down in flames ...
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`` Sometimes I'd like to see this city go down in flames.''
We were sitting on the cliff infront of our old city. We moved due to the old one being a piece of... well. You know what.
I looked in his direction. The sunset created a background going great with the wind rustling his hair.
I looked back at the old town. `` Yeah. Me too.'' I said, sighing.
I threw my cigar off the cliff. `` God. That tasted terrible. Stupid smokers saying it's the best thing ever.''
The next day I flicked on the news.
`` Miami is now completely on fire!''
I froze. Who did this. My phone rang but I knew who it was and why.
The cigar. Of course. When I threw it, the wind went strongly in that direction. Who would've thought...
Then another bulletin came on. `` The fire is out and Miami is underwater!''
Why did I empty my water bottle there?
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[ WP ] You start writing this prompt , but the more you write , the more you realize something is terribly wrong .
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I should be working while I'm writing this for fucks sakes.
I'm not even good at writing. I code for a living. Why am I writing this?
I saw your post and it caught my attention. I was coding a MySql singleton when I said, hey, lets look at reddit a bit, like I always do when I have no idea where I'm going with the code.
I was avoiding doing work on some regular expressions which I hate and wa*what was that noise? * and was thinking of parsing some XML with that.
But the more aI think about it the moar i relize a mere glimpse of the world of regex parsers for HTML will instantly transport a programmer's consciousness into a world of ceaseless screaming, he comes, the pestilent slithy regex-infection will devour your HTML parser, application and existence for all time like Visual Basic only worse he comes he comes do not fight he com̡e̶s, ̕h̵is un̨ho͞ly radiańcé destro҉ying all enli̍̈́̂̈́ghtenment, HTML tags lea͠ki̧n͘g fr̶ǫm ̡yo͟ur eye͢s̸ ̛l̕ik͏e liquid pain, the song of re̸gular expression parsing will extinguish the voices of mortal man from the sphere I can see it can you see ̲͚̖͔̙î̩́t̲͎̩̱͔́̋̀ it is beautiful the final snuffing of the lies of Man ALL IS LOŚ͖̩͇̗̪̏̈́T ALL IS LOST the pon̷y he comes he c̶̮omes he comes the ichor permeates all MY FACE MY FACE ᵒh god no NO NOO̼OO NΘ stop the an*̶͑̾̾̅ͫ͏̙̤g͇̫͛͆̾ͫ̑͆l͖͉̗̩̳̟̍ͫͥͨe̠̅s ͎a̧͈͖r̽̾̈́͒͑e not rè̑ͧ̌aͨl̘̝̙̃ͤ͂̾̆ ZA̡͊͠͝LGΌ ISͮ̂҉̯͈͕̹̘̱ TO͇̹̺ͅƝ̴ȳ̳ TH̘Ë͖́̉ ͠P̯͍̭O̚N̐Y̡ H̸̡̪̯ͨ͊̽̅̾̎Ȩ̬̩̾͛ͪ̈́̀́͘ ̶̧̨̱̹̭̯ͧ̾ͬC̷̙̲̝͖ͭ̏ͥͮ͟Oͮ͏̮̪̝͍M̲̖͊̒ͪͩͬ̚̚͜Ȇ̴̟̟͙̞ͩ͌͝S̨̥̫͎̭ͯ̿̔̀ͅ
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[ WP ] `` Hi there . You know that feeling you sometimes have , of someone watching you just outside your line of vision ? That was me . It 's time we had a little chat . ''
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The day it happened I was terrified and relieved all in one moment. My whole life felt like the Truman show, I knew I was being watched. I remember as a child I would feel a shadowy figure staring at me from the closet after my parents tucked me into bed. Sometimes I would feel it sitting in my office alone while working late at night, a figure just watching me from across the office cubicles near the front door on the opposite side of the office. The actual feeling of being watched was the scary feeling, somehow I knew it was for a reason.
I was on my way to the elevator just like any other day and then without warning the elevator stopped moving like and like a record playing slower and slower my watched ticks took longer and longer until there were no more clicks. My heart started pounding as I noticed my reflection on the elevator doors, the wall behind me started to shift and move forward. The figure slowly started to change colors as a chameleon would and I screamed as I threw myself towards the doors. I tried as hard as I could to open the doors with my hands until the shadow spoke to me, `` do not fret human, I am here to protect you.'' I could n't believe my ears, I was still fearing for my life so I started screaming and pounding the elevator door `` HELP HELP PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME.'' The figure responded `` Not one human on this planet can hear you, I have broken protocol to send you a warning. You must calm down and listen human.'' This was the moment I realized that the shadowy creature had no mouth and he was not emitting any sound, he was talking through some kind of psychic connection. All in one instant I trusted this creature and he begin to speak in a deep omniscient tone. `` I was sent here to quadrant 8 sub-quadrant 58 planet 3 to watch inhabitants that might be useful in the savior of or quadrant. Time is running short. I have been assigned your guardian due to the circumstances involving your life.'' This is when I finally felt relieved, I asked `` so you are the one that has been watching me my whole life, why, why me out of all the seven billion people on this earth?'' `` I have seen what you do in the future and you are the only one capable of what needs to happen. I have no time to explain, you must leave at once to save more life than you could imagine in the quadrant, you have no time to say goodbye.'' at this moment the figure touched me and I instantly found myself transported from the metallic elevator into a room lined with mirrors on the wall except for one square that's a window. I am now looking at earth from such a distance it appears to fit in the palm of my hand. I do n't know what I am supposed to do or how I am supposed to do it, but the beauty of this sight assures me that it will be done.
Umm, I'm extremely tired and I'm just trying too keep myself up at work. I know that it falls off but this really is my first one so I'm not to worried. I just wanted to stop writing but I did n't want to leave a story unfinished so I thought a shitty finish is better than no finish. I'm also aware my grammar is shitty.
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[ WP ] world leaders are no longer elected . An advanced algorithm sorts through everyones social media posts , emails , phone calls etc and selects the best candidate . It 's chosen `` Big dave '' the truck driver .
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Tell me if I should write more or not.
[ Alora ]
Alora was designed to be the perfect system. With technology increasing and the population increasing, there was no way we could continue the democracy that we currently had in the United States. Thus we created alora. The algorithm which selects the best candidate every four years to become our president. The year is 2100. The last president, 64th President of the USA Glory Booker, was a tech mogul who sold millions of products. With his background in the tech field the US economy skyrocketed, however his liberal ideas fragmented a large portion of the country who wanted it to go back to the days under our 45th president. Alora is now currently choosing our 65th president and it looks like she is about done.
[ Countryside of New Texas ]
`` Yeah them Boys round here drinking that ice cold beer talking bout girls talking bout trucks'' Dave sang.
`` Dave shut your trap, lets get this job done''
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[ WP ] On your eighteenth birthday , you shoot a mystic bow that is said to kill whoever is destined to kill you , three seconds before they do . Eight years later , your arrow strikes your SO 's heart , right as she says `` I do . ''
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I glanced at the gun leveled against my temple. She must have found it above the cabinet in the garage. I took a drink and went back to whatever it was on TV.
`` I've had enough,'' she said with surprising calm. `` I ca n't do this anymore.''
Nothing good is on. `` I ca n't say I did n't see it coming.''
`` You know, if you just listened more, we probably could have found a better solution.''
`` Mm hm.'' Channel up.
`` And the drinking, the late nights out...''
`` And the life insurance policy you took out on me has nothing to do with this?''
`` At least you can do something good for me. And it's not as if anyone would question why you would kill yourself, with your depression.''
I looked down at my glass and sighed. Empty. I was going to need a drink after this. `` Make it look like a suicide?'' It was almost amusing `` Listen, you're not going to kill me.''
`` What?''
I turned to look at her. She was a mess, tousled hair, dried tears on her cheeks. Even with what she stood to gain, she must be going through hell. She may still love me just a little after 6 years of marriage. More than I could say of myself. `` I said, you're not going to kill me.''
She furrowed her brow, then laughed, a twisted, broken laugh. `` You of all people should know that I mean this.''
I closed my eyes and thought of that night with the spectral shaman, the tension in the bow, the heavy price I paid. Some birthday that was. `` I do n't doubt your intentions to kill me. I'm just saying that you wo n't end up killing me.''
`` Shut up! Shut up right now!''
I looked around the room. The window behind her seems like the most likely path. `` Listen, it's been a real trip. We had a great few years, and then... well... you are wanting to kill me so it ca n't have been that great after that.''
She closed her eyes, and shook her head. `` Do n't think you can talk me out of this.''
`` I'm not trying. Let me just say that I really hoped it did n't have to end this way.''
`` No more of this. Goodbye.'' She straightened her arm and pressed the barrel right up against my head.
`` Do you really intend to kill me?''
`` I do.''
I sighed, and the glass exploded behind her.
Edit: grammar and such
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[ EU ] Faced with the return of dragons , the people of Westeros turn to their only hope ... the Dragonborn .
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( I wrote to what I recall of the novels, I have never seen the TV shows. Apologies for any inaccuracies! )
The death of Daenerys Targaryen was lamented by all.
Too naïve was she, to survive, much less flourish, with dragons. Her'pets' had grown too large and too clever for mere humans to tame. Once it had become clear to them that they could reclaim their birthright, her dragons had scorned her care, burned her alive, and ate of her flesh.
But this is not why the world wailed.
Unsatisfied with such a royal feast, the dragons take to the sky and terrorize the entire continent of Essos. While they are but three, so voracious remains their appetites that they feed nearly without pause, continuously growing. Of these, Drogon proves to be the most violent by far. When the cities of Essos were naught but blackened char and abandoned dreams, it was Drogon who smelled the ripe scents of humanity left in Westeros, and it was he who led them home.
Not that such was an immediate concern of Jon Snow, for what problems and headaches have the dying? Naught, but perhaps for the pains of death and the inconvenience it brings. Moreso, then, for his betrayers had not checked his body for life when they had left him north of the wall. Abandoned by his sworn brothers, he lay frozen, but alive. Alive while his brothers burned as Viserion made a nest in Castle Black. Alive as the ice melted and he woke once more, although his mind remained dull for some time, and his teeth would not cease in their chattering.
And what an awakening he had! The people he had sworn to protect were dying in fires raging, in a land that Men had thought warmth had abandoned. He could hear the sounds of people despairing as what little they had burned and crumbled from the dragon's furious breaths. So overwhelmed was he that all he could do was sputter a question, `` What's going on?''
The problem and serendipitous fate here was that his teeth and lips were far too frozen to speak properly. So although his eyes were clear, his mouth was not yet ready to speak. So while he made to voice his question, what actually escaped his lips was, `` *Fus*...''
In that moment, a burst of power like nothing Man had seen in millennia escaped him as a great wind extinguished the fires before him. And although many fires still raged, the Watchmen formerly trapped inside the gatehouse scrambled out in awe of their Not-Yet-Dead Lord Commander. Quickly, they begged him to save their brethren in other buildings, and while Jon could not yet walk unassisted, much less run, they carried him from place to place, letting him extinguish flame and fire before every last life was extinguished by the red death.
It was sheer luck, though, that at this time Viserion had taken his fill of fun and feasting. Quietly he lay as Jon Snow quietly urged the Watch and Wildling both to escape the wall. With haste, they gathered what little they could and head for Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. While it is a grim journey, less favorable is it to attempt dwelling beside a dragon's nest.
And yet before they could depart, more black news did arrive, although this kind black only by nature of its bearer. Soon after Jon did remove the message from the raven's claw, did he recognize the pen of his old friend, Sam Tarly.
*'' Jon, I must be short as we are besieged by flame and claw, but you must find us in Oldtown. Master Aemon left a book to my care when he died. He was babbling but spoke of'If the Dragons should shake off their chains,' that your voice would pull them from the skies. Hurry! I do not know when the dragons will return, but I fear the next visitor we entertain will be our last'' *
Tossing the letter into the flames still licking at the walls of Castle Black, Jon mounted one of the few horses left and shouted, `` To those whom seek shelter at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, I begrudge you not your desire for safety and quiet. But to any who would help me place a dragon's skull atop the wall as a warning to others, come with me! We ride south!''
It was with cheers and shouts that many a wildling joined him without hesitation. To a man ( and woman! ), they asked in unison where they were headed. Jon set his expression and told them.
`` First we see about settling an old score and saving my kin. And perhaps, once home, I shall find the supplies we will need to make our way to the Reach. We will need the arms and horses, regardless. Let us march!''
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[ WP ] In my backyard , I found a ( n ) …
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In my backyard, I found a corpse.
It had been ripped open by starving raccoons; most of its intestines were shredded beyond recognition. In that pile of slowly decaying flesh that was already beginning to attract ants was something shiny.
I do n't understand why I thought it'd be a good idea to stick my hand inside of it and try to take whatever had caught my eye; all I know is that I did it.
It was a ring; tourmaline encased in what looked to be gold. It was modest, but lovely and would've fetched a pretty penny.
One thing you have to understand is that the ring was surrounded by grotesque reds and pinks, so there was no way for me to realize it was attached to a finger before I grabbed it.
The finger's owner let out a deafening screech of pain. I stumbled backwards, my heart trying to tear itself out of my chest. A figure rose out of the body, a svelte one, cloaked in a moldy gown. Filthy black hair tumbled down its shoulders as it slowly turned to face me.
No, not `` it''. She. She turned to face me.
And she was n't happy.
`` So... you're what Mom and Dad replaced me with?''
Her voice was n't creaky or dusty, but clear and full of rage.
I asked the only thing that was on my mind: `` Who are you?''
`` Andrea Scott. Your big sister they never told you about.''
`` What... what happened to you?''
`` Well, I'm obviously dead, are n't I?'' She motioned to the mangled corpse she stood in. `` But you want to know how. Is n't that right?''
I nodded, my mouth slightly agape.
`` Your dear, wonderful mother,'' she said bitterly, `` put rat poison in my cereal.''
My face paled. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. `` Why?''
`` Because I was engaged.'' She held out the hand bearing the ring to me, proudly twisting it this way and that so I could see the gem sparkle. `` Mother did n't mind that part, though. What she minded was the color of his skin and the money in his bank account.''
`` She killed you because you were going to marry a poor black man?''
`` Poor Hispanic man,'' Andrea corrected. `` An honest, handsome, strong, intelligent, kind, poor Hispanic man.'' She threw her arm up to her forehead and dramatically shouted in a voice mimicking my, no, her, no, our mother, `` Whatever will I do with such a disgraceful daughter? What'll my friends think of me if I let my child marry such a worthless man?''
Tears filled my eyes. `` I... I'm sorry, Andrea. What do you want me to do?''
`` Two things. First of all, give this-'' she pulled the ring off of her finger and handed it to me. `` -back to Carlos Salazar. Tell him that all Andrea wants is for him to be happy, and if his happiness means marrying another girl, so be it. Secondly, tell Mom you know what she did. Do n't be specific. Do n't say it in front of Dad. Do n't tell anyone else you know, either, unless Mom brings up something about a person you're friends with or a guy you're dating. Tell her she can stick whatever she has to say where the sun does n't shine or else you'll tell the police to dig up our backyard.''
I took the ring and pocketed it, surprised by how clean it was. Andrea gave me a weak smile. `` One last thing, lil' sis.''
`` Anything for you.''
`` You know the extra room in the basement?''
`` Yeah?''
`` That was my room. Stay out of it from now on,'kay?''
I did n't question why, I just nodded. She let out a satisfied sigh and disappeared in a wisp of smoke. The ground beneath her corpse opened and swallowed it, then joined back together in the blink of an eye.
I turned around, ready to find Carlos, when I saw her.
My mother.
Standing on the back porch with a knife in her hand.
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[ WP ] Rewrite the lyrics of a popular song that tells a story to the narrative /vocabulary of John Watson ( Conan Doyle )
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It is intuitively obvious even to the most casual of observers what transpired.
His father abandoned the family at a very young age, possibly to gamble, drink or sing. This is evidenced by the antique guitar and the finished off alcoholic container.
He appears on the surface to have been a mean man, but on closer inspection I believ eyou will find his motives were pure. He did not in fact get humor from his actions, and regretted that leaving was the only rational choice. So he made his decision and abruptly departed.
He continually worried that his progeny would track him to his current location, so he kept a low profile, but unfortunately for him, he was tracked due to a well used photograph and a menacing look in the photograph.
His son caught up to him at a den of ill repute where he was in fact participating in a card game of chance.
His son then clearly introduced himself, but also threatened his life, so the father had no choice but to brandsh a knife and utilize it to cut a portion off his own son's ear.
They then scuffled for a good long while, each of which trading massive blows as evidenced by the huge quantities of blood, the numerous sweat drops, and all of the spilled beer.
It appears that the father realized he was about to lose, so he reached for his pistol, but the son was able to draw and ready his in a more timely manner.
At this point I imagine the father pleaded for his life and attempted to explain why he felt the need to bequeath a name of scorn to his son.
His so was in fact understanding so they each threw down their weaponry and hugged each other.
The son was so moved in fact that if he ever had a child, he would do anything except utilize the naming method his father used upon him.
Thus Watson, we now fully understand why the man before us is named Sue.
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[ TT ] You are immortal . Over the course of the centuries you discover that reincarnation is real , and now you 're searching all over the world for your first love .
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She always shined.
Even in the early Roman empire, Henry noticed the way other men stared at her, even some of the women.
She was a star.
He almost caught her in Victorian England once, she had died just months before he reached. She had a job, as an actress at the city's theater.
She had to be in New York.
Henry raised his cup in the air, hoping someone would empty their pockets into it, bothered by the burden of having to carry that much change. She had to be here, the city of Broadway, she was probably walk into the theater he begged in front of every day. Henry nodded his thanks to a passerby who threw in seven cents.
17 years.
She was n't coming.
Henry looked down, eyes on the sidewalk.
He could n't find her. Hell, the way the world's changed, he may never see her again, in this age or any other. His ever-living Eliza. Lost in the jumble of people.
`` I do n't have any money,'' a woman's voice came from above Henry. He looked up. `` But I do have two coupons for free dinner. I got them by calling the restaurant and saying i found a pube in my food.''
Henry laughed, unable to stop himself. `` Eliza?''
She smiled Eliza's smile. `` I figured it was about time that *I* find *you*.''
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[ WP ] Write a successfully engaging story that ends in the line `` And then I woke up ''
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I met someone today. Not just anyone, but the most beautiful girl I've ever seen and her name is Stacy. She was walking down the street, and someone almost hit her, only I pulled her out of the way. It was such a rush. We ended up falling backwards and I hit my head on a pole but it was worth it. She took me to dinner tonight and we actually get along really well. I hope we go out again.
Stacy and I have been dating for a month now. It feels good to have found someone I get along with so well and am really attracted to. I'll be finishing college up next semester. I'm really excited, since this winter is also going to be really cold and I want it over with already. Hopefully I can get a car soon, too. I hate walking in the cold air, but she is so worth it.
Graduation ceremonies are overdone, but still nice to get recognized for what I've done, even if I'm only on that stage for a few seconds. My parents have apparently been saving up to get me a car and they got me one just weeks before the ceremony. This is such a great day! So happy with my life now! Hopefully, if I land a job, Stacy and I can move in together next winter!
I'll always remember that summer day. It was so hot and I really wanted to go to the pool. But instead, I went to the lake with Stacy and a couple of our friends. There was another family there, but the lake is big enough for everyone. We were having a blast until the family there began panicking. They were screaming and calling 911. We ran over to see what happened and one of the children had drowned, but they got her out. She was n't breathing though and I was the only one who knew CPR. I started working on her and I just could n't get her to breathe. Thirty seconds went by. Sixty. One hundred twenty. After eight minutes and thirty two seconds they finally got me to stop. I just could n't. I wanted to save that girl. Stacy stayed with me that night. I did n't sleep much. And when I did, I could n't even save her in my dreams.
Stacy moved in with me the weekend following Valentine's day. Our steady jobs and my apartment is a great way for us to keep moving forward. We still have plenty of space and I could n't be happier.
A year has passed since the girl drowned. It still haunts my dreams sometimes, but today I received a letter from her family thanking me for having tried to save her. I did n't sleep much again this night.
I've been with Stacy for four years. I just proposed to her last weekend. She said yes! I am so excited for this next step! Everyone has been saying `` It's about tie,'' and, `` I knew you two would end up together.'' My life is great! I could have never imagined it being so amazing.
Our wedding was wonderful. We did all the traditions and the reception was a blast. Although, I got a little too tipsy and passed out before we even consummated our marriage. But, that's okay because she too fell asleep. In an empty bathtub. Cuddling the roll of toilet paper. I found the perfect woman.
Ultrasounds are weird. I could see our baby inside her. It is so strange. We named her Leanne. I'm so nervous for having a child. Especially after what had happened at the lake. I knew I can do it though.
Leanne was born on a Tuesday. She is adorable. Big brown eyes. I could n't say anything except that I was actually a dad. I could n't believe it. When we finally took her home, I just slept right next to her crib in a chair. I was a family man.
At Leanne's graduation things were strange. There was a real lion handing out the diplomas. I guess it was just from the lack of sleep from having had to stay late at work recently. Joey and Nathan were acting up a little, constantly griping about how bored they were. Which was strange for them graduating in just a few more years.
The next morning Joey grew two feet taller. My cereal was filled with spiders. I could n't figure out what the hell was going on.
Stacy decided that our marriage had reached its end that following night. Her and the kids all wanted to leave me. I asked why and could n't believe it. Then she explained to me, `` Because, John, you're going to wake up soon. Have n't you noticed things getting weirder and more distorted since Jeanne's graduation? I do n't know you. I never knew you. Ever since you pulled me away and hit your head, you've been in a coma. It's been five years. Stacy is your nurse. That's her voice that you've based mine off of. The kids are just other workers that you've heard often as well.''
I... I do n't understand... How long-''
`` Five years. You have been out for five years. After you saved'me' I was more pissed at the fact you broke my purse strap and kicked you in the head, which is probably why the coma lasted so long.''
`` No... this is n't right!''
`` Look at everything. It's all gone.'' And she was right. It was just us in emptiness. The kids had vanished and even she was beginning to disappear. `` Goodbye, John. Even though the me out there did n't love you, I always will. But it's time for you to get back into the real world and find me out there.''
She was gone. My whole life was going to be so much different. I was trying to handle losing everything in an instant and I could n't. And then I woke up.
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[ WP ] Write a revenge story that goes horribly right
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He took everything from me. They say revenge is a dish best served cold but I beg to differ. The fear in his eyes, his cold, sweaty hand on my arms. My hand pressed firmly against his throat.
He struggled and squirmed but that was too easy. I released my grip, he was panting for air, gasping it for dear life. I never broke contact with his eyes. I saw fear and he saw death. The fire rising in me. I would hurt him like he hurt me. I dug my thumb deep into his eye socket. I felt the squish and pops as I dug deeper. His shrieks echoed through the warehouse. Screams no one would here except me. Screams that would haunt me for the rest of my life. Constantly reminding me what I have done but I was oddly okay about it.
I was knuckle deep in his eye when I pulled out. The blood spraying at me. A pool of crimson formed around us. His ungodly scream startled me for a second. Now it was time to end this. I reached for my coat and pulled out a small picture. He knew exactly who they were. He was responsible for their death. It's always the innocents that get killed. The intoxicated drivers always survive. But not always, for today I am death. And I am here for him.
My hands wrapped around his throat for one last time. I could feel the life slipping from him. He did n't struggle. He laid limp staring at me. Begging for mercy, he almost looked sorry. But that was to late. My family may of looked sorry and look where they are now. I have become judge, jury, and executioner. His body fell imp on the ground. His life drained. I stood there looking at what I have done. A calming feeling overcame me. I felt relieved. I turned away and walked back towards my car, ready to redo my life once again.
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[ WP ] No doubt about it ; that 's definitely your corpse in the body-bag .
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Jim had been enjoying the best damn breakfast he'd ever eaten when the news reporter at the scene of the break in caught his attention. He'd spent so much time in other homes that he almost did n't recognise his own front yard as the paramedics carried the body out.
`` Fuck! ``, he spat before clawing desperately at the tether that now drifted freely in his mind.
`` No no no no!'' He patted himself down and looked around the unfamiliar kitchen, he did n't know what for. He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing.
He knew from the moment that he first jumped that this could happen. Leaving himself vulnerable like that; Alone and unprotected in his small, suburban house. He had once jumped into a neighbour just so he could see for himself what happened to his body whilst he was away. It was pretty much what he'd expected; flaccid and comatose, void of all light.
`` Fuck it!'' He glanced again at the TV and seconds later he was elsewhere, leaving Tom Cruise to wonder what the hell he'd been upto all morning.
`` Sarah? Sarah can you give me a hand?''
He looked at the puzzled man as he came to in a blur of sirens and voices. A paramedic.
`` Yeah, sorry'' said Jim as he reached down and grabbed the stretcher.
`` You OK? ``, asked his newly acquainted colleague.
`` Yeah, yeah'', he said. `` I'm just not myself today''.
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[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Space Oddity Edition
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At 5 o'clock sharp they wanted to brief him on what would happen if he won. “ Mr. Beckman! ” He ’ d sealed himself in his private study, ignoring the shouts coming from the other side of the mahogany doors. Silently, he switched the tv on, the channel having already been turned to WTOP. He ’ d consulted his family before the drawing to say goodbyes in case he was chosen, but they didn ’ t seem very interested overall. Only his wife, Janette, had shown a remote blink of concern. However it was mostly about his finances being taken care of. And besides, participation was mandatory under law. He ’ d made it that way.
Shawn Anderson ’ s voice came streaming through the electronic, prefacing the lottery with the basics everyone already knew. All your personal information was sent out to the public via the news, and you had twenty four hours to stay alive and you got the million dollars. If not, your killer got the money. Caleb didn ’ t need it of course, being the heir to the Beckman family fortune, but he was sure it would set a good example if he proved that literally anyone could be drawn for the lottery and it wasn ’ t rigged in his favor. He had tuned out at this point, only coming to when there was a banging on the door and even more shouting. He turned his head to the tv again, only to find that Shawn and Hillary were talking about him.
“ We all know that the president lives in the White House, but what about his personal address back in Michigan? ” Hillary Howard turned politely to Anderson who seemed, quite frankly, a little too happy.
“ Well Hillary… ” Caleb turned the tv off, assuming one of his assistants would give him what he needed to know. Getting up, he dusted off his pants for a moment before unlocking the door. Noticing the lack of voices coming through, he opened it himself, finding the barrel of a gun in his face the moment he did.
“ Mr. President, I ’ m afraid there ’ s no good way out of this. ” Janette ’ s voice came from behind the gun, her aim wavering only slightly when Caleb simply smiled at her.
“ I didn ’ t expect there to be. Either I win and the public turns against me, or I lose and the public turns against the killer. Granted, one scenario does end up with me moving to Mexico like I always wanted. ” He was incredibly blaze about it all, mostly due to the fact that he ’ d had almost all of this prearranged. In case of his victory, a home was already purchased and maids put on the property for him down in Mexico City. His private jet would be waiting at his equally private hangar, which he of course would get to via a sedan with bulletproof windows tinted to midnight.
And if he lost, well, the funeral home had already been contacted.
Meanwhile, Janette ’ s revolver followed his movements down the hall, pressed into between his high school quarterback shoulder blades. “ Y ’ know Caleb, I think I ’ ll take the house down in Mexico. Do you think I ’ d get a nice tan? ” Janette asked in a glaringly mock sweet tone. The President didn ’ t really see all the point in answering so he simply nodded and let her push him further down the hallway. “ Can I say something, Caleb? ” She pretended to wait a moment for his answer before continuing, “ I honestly thought this would be a little more exciting. You, putting up a measly excuse for a fight, and me, your very soon to be ex-wife handing it to you like I ’ ve fantasized about for all these years. Sure, I could get you down with a swift kick to the groin and knee to the face, but how much fun would that be? Oh no sir, you ’ ll be going in here, ” she opened the door to a remote supply closet in which she had completely cleared out. Shoving him in, she smiled something similar to the ones from their wedding photos and added “ and I don ’ t intend on letting you out very soon. Maybe not for let ’ s say, twenty four hours? ” Her smile widened as she slammed the door shut, sliding a key under the door.
Caleb was momentarily confused, staring at the key as if it would tell him just what Janette ’ s plan was. As he moved to pick it up, he felt more than heard the back wall of the closet give way, revealing a lair behind it. Before he could utter a sound, two men dressed in very slimming black suits had him by the arms, pulling him backwards into what seemed to be Janette ’ s main room of operations. There was a blow to the back of his head and then, nothing.
The next morning he was quite surprised he woke up at all. There was a lump at the back of his head but he figured it was nothing, an injury he ’ d sustained after falling when his name was called for the lottery. There was an almost unsettling quiet around the entire property that morning. He ’ d imagined there would be the chiming of bells, shouts into the wind like anyone still “ reads all about it ”, and spokes practically ripping off the bicycle tires of newsboys on their routes.
Instead he got the chance to brush his teeth as slowly as he liked, purposefully drawing it out in any attempt to win this game. Nothing was out of the ordinary aside from the aforementioned when he was getting dressed either. In fact, there didn ’ t seem to be any real hubbub besides the regular briefings, though of course meetings that were set to take place outside of the White House had been canceled. His assistants were just that - not accessories to a murder that would never go to trial. It was as if the previous day hadn ’ t happened, like his name hadn ’ t really been called. A quick look in anyone ’ s eyes though, and the terrible mix of maliciousness and obligation told him that he had been chosen after all.
He wasn ’ t someone to be feared, a little under average height at 5 ’ 8 and a solid 180 pounds on his bones, most of it being fat. And yet people were under a silent hush about him - the press, especially. Outside of the mandatory winning person being shown on the news, there had been no mentions of the existence of the lottery at all. Mexico was calling his name.
The flight and the events leading up to it were rather uneventful, only experiencing minimal turbulence when the pilot briefly considered putting the plane on autopilot and kicking Mr. Beckman out of the emergency hatch with a floating seat cushion and a peace sign. But they landed right on schedule, leaving a good four hours leeway for anyone who happened to know where his new place was. By 4:30 it seemed that he ’ d successfully won, and so he decided to celebrate a little early with a 30 year old Riesling. Upon finding a fancy enough glass to put it in, it was taken from him and smashed on his head. It seemed he hadn ’ t ran quite far enough.
The trip was a blur, but Caleb was coherent enough to know that he was in the middle of nowhere as Janette ’ s henchmen lifted him out of the truck. He was handcuffed at both his wrists and ankles, placed at his wife ’ s feet with his back to a shallow grave. A 12 gauge shotgun had been pushing his shoulder backwards or forward for him to stay in that position and as much as he hated to admit it, its presence was welcome against his feverish skin.
“ Hello again, Caleb. ” Janette talked down to him, her once fond green eyes a piercing black. “ You honestly thought running down here would save you? You ’ ve got ta be kidding me. ” She smirked to herself, flipping her brunette locks out of her face. The shotgun was removed from his shoulder, replaced with an equally frigid glock against his skull, smack dab in the center of his frontal lobe. “ Now it looks like you have about, ” she glanced at her watch, “ 5 minutes to prove to me that your life is worth sparing. And it can be done, don ’ t worry. Though I should say this before anything else: I ’ m not exactly taking pleasure in all of this, I ’ m not a sadist- ” Janette Eckels ’ finger pressed the trigger and Caleb Beckman landed with a thump in the ground.
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[ PI ] A bum finds a lottery ticket that wins him the $ 400,000,000 jackpot . Tell the story of his rise to his fall back to the streets .
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Do you know why “ The Count of Monte Cristo ” is such a popular story to this day? I ’ ll tell you why. It ’ s the ultimate fantasy. A man comes by an immense amount of treasure through no real merit of his own and then becomes richer than God. Then using his new found riches, he goes on a revenge spree against all those who wronged him all the while overpaying for all the best things the world has to offer.
What no one likes to talk about is that the book ’ s author, Alexandre Dumas, who at one point was one of the richest men in France, died penniless as he tried to live his life like his character, Edmond Dantes.
The fact of the matter is that people are free to avoid reality, but no one can avoid the consequences of avoiding reality.
And that is a lesson that Al learned far too late.
He wasn ’ t born in the streets. Like everyone here, he once had parents. And a home. No, he wasn ’ t born to a king in a castle in some magical kingdom. His father was a traveling salesman and his mother was a seamstress. He wasn ’ t born rich, but he had a home.
Like so many other kids in the wold, Al liked to imagine being rich. He spent many days and nights imagining the kind of house he would live in, the car he would drive, the parties that he would throw for his friends. He would love everyone and everyone would love him.
But that was all that he did. He imagined being rich. But he never did anything to become rich. He never paid attention in school. In fact, he always thought that being in school was a waste of time. The kicker was that he wasn ’ t even brave enough to start his own lemonade stand for fear of losing money.
“ What if some thug comes by and asks me for protection money? ”
“ What if some of the girls see me and they laugh at me because they think I ’ m being foolish? ”
“ What if my idea doesn ’ t succeed? I can ’ t bear failure. ”
With one excuse after another, his cowardice never let him do anything before he grew too skinny and bald after having partied with hard drugs and cheap booze a few too many times. His needles and bottles were his best friends. They let him live in the palaces in his mind. He avoided reality, but reality never avoided him.
Living on the streets was tough. But even years after living on the streets, he never forgot his dream about being the next Donald Trump.
Every day he bought himself a lottery ticket and he always bought the same numbers. He told everyone that he saw these numbers in a dream when he was a kid and that some voice told him that these numbers are very important. No one paid any attention to him.
But everyone paid a lot of attention to him when those numbers led him to win four hundred million dollars!
Suddenly, everyone loved Al. He discovered that he had relatives that he had never heard of. Friends who had turned their backs on him years ago came back with smiles on their faces and women had nothing but sweet little nothings to whisper into his ear. Even charities came a-callin ’ asking for donations for the poor.
“ You lived on the streets, too. So you must understand their plight! ” came the letters and phone calls.
“ Al, buddy, you look amazing! How have you been? I always knew you were going to make it, kiddo! ” claimed his friends.
“ Do you remember me, Al? Oh, of course you don ’ t. You were just a boy when we last met. I ’ m your great-aunt Millie. My, how you ’ ve grown. ”
“ I do love bald men. I think that is so sexy, ” moaned the women.
Al didn ’ t hold any grudges. And he was finally free of fear. No one was going to laugh at him. His dream wasn ’ t going to fail. No gang member was going to harass him now. He was on first name basis with the city ’ s mayor!
And he bought himself a car. A fleet of cars actually. And how beautiful they were. All polish and chrome. He had cars that would have made Rockefeller blush. And his house! Not even Orson Welles could have imagined Xanadu to look like Al ’ s house.
His ultimate prize, however, was his wife. She had curves in all the right places, and her smile could destroy empires. Everyone knew that she married Al for his money. There was no way in hell that a woman like her would ever even give a man like Al a second look if he weren ’ t as rich as he had become. I suspect that Al knew that much, too. But I don ’ t think he cared all that much.
All the while, though Al grew richer, he himself never changed.
“ Why should I invest my money? That ’ s what I have accountants for. Let them do the thinking for me. I just want to party! ”
“ I have four hundred million dollars! I will never be poor again! ”
“ If I let my friends keep partying, they will always love me. ”
“ No girl will ever laugh at me now. Look at my wife! ”
He was living his dream. Why should he care? The party was never going to stop!
But the party did stop.
His wife went on spending sprees that would have made the Sultan of Brunei wonder if she was spending her money too prodigiously. She has since divorced Al and last I heard, she got married to some Hollywood producer. His friends and family gorged on his food and drink like they were partaking in a Roman orgy. His crooked accountants and lawyers made themselves fat at his expense. Worst of all, the Taxman came a-knockin ’.
In less than three years, Al lost everything and he came back to the streets. He doesn ’ t talk to anyone anymore. I think he still likes to dream about being rich.
Now, there ’ s a second part to this story. If you look over at that house right across from the house where Al lived, there ’ s another mansion. The guy who owns that place is called Henry Bloom. Now that man is filthy rich. He was also born rich. Silver spoon in his mouth and everything. And chances are that he will stay rich and die rich.
So why did I bring that up? I brought it up to highlight that life is not fair.
Everyone loves a story about an underdog making it big and a rich man getting what ’ s coming to him. This is not that kind of story.
Henry Bloom was rich the day he was born; just like his father. His grandfather did all the work of starting up an incredibly successful business. So, a lot of people think that Henry Bloom did not earn his wealth. So, he doesn ’ t deserve it either.
But here ’ s the thing that people don ’ t often consider. Getting rich isn ’ t as hard as people think. All you need is luck, a lot of hard work, and a really good idea. Being born rich is even easier. All you need to do is to be born. But staying rich. Now that ’ s tricky.
And Henry Bloom stayed rich. And do you know how? He was brave. He never let fear get in the way.
“ So what if I fail? I will simply try again. ”
“ So what if people laugh at me? I will do what pleases me! ”
“ So what if I have lawyers and accountants? I don ’ t trust them to look out for my interests. I have to do my own thinking. A man who doesn ’ t think might as well be a zombie. ”
“ I want to stay rich. What are the things that I must do to stay rich? ”
The moral of the story as has already been stated twice. People are free to avoid reality, but no one can avoid the consequences of avoiding reality.
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[ WP ] 60 Seconds
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They say that in the moments before your death, your life flashes before your eyes.
Mine did n't.
At least, not all of it. All I could see were the moments that had led me inexorably to this final decision. All the notes and graffiti plastered across my locker, all the times my bag was stolen and vandalized, all the hours I spent alone in the lunchroom. The verbal and physical abuse over the last six years, ever since I had been caught kissing Benny Albright behind the bleachers. He had left our district later that year when his dad had to move away for his job, leaving me to face the ridicule and shame alone. I remembered his face, his soft brown hair, the warm smile he wore that filled me with hope.
But he had left me alone. Alone in the cold, fluorescent-lit hell that was Northbridge High. I did n't resent him, but I still felt hurt that he had made so little effort to keep in touch with me since he left. He was my first love, the man that got me to finally accept myself and my sexuality. With him gone, I was the only openly gay student left in the school.
The painful memories continues to flash before my eyes - the time Ricky Gones had beat me up, calling me a'fag' and a'dick-loving queer'. Walking out of the school to see my brand new car - a birthday gift from my parents - with smashed windows and `` FAGGOT'' spray-painted across the hood and doors.
Nothing could be worth enduring this kind of pain. No reward could be worth this torture. I was tired, and angry, and hurt. I was done.
I slipped the extension cord around my neck and kicked the chair out from under my legs.
They say your life flashes before your eyes in the moments before you die.
They're fucking liars.
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[ WP ] Kim Jong-un gets a visit from the ghost of Korea past , present and future .
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... first the ghost of past appeared out of a smoke with scent of blood. A slouched man in a uniform, begging for mercy.
Then, smog filled the room and a strong character formed from the thickest parts of the choking substance. This ghost was different from the former. It was tall and strong, but still with a face of desperation. `` Please, make it end.'' Begged the ghost of present.
After a while a deafening bang filled the room along with a sweet scented smoke of white, red and blue hue. An eagle formed out of the tricilore smoke screen to the sound of AC/DC.
`` LOUD AND FREE, MOTHERFUCKER. LOUD AND FREE.'' Screeched the eagle. The ghost of future. The ghost of America.
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[ WP ] A frazzled family is trying to prepare for Thanksgiving dinner with their extended family . An hour before guests arrive , they discover a literal skeleton in the pantry closet ...
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`` Um... honey,'' she nervously called out to her husband, who was busy working in the kitchen.
`` Just give me a minute, *please*,'' he responded. He sounded exasperated, and she hated to disturb him, but there were more pressing matters at hand. `` Come over here right now, this is urgent,'' she shouted. Reluctantly, the husband strolled over to the closet. `` Yes honey, what were you wanting me for?''
`` This,'' she said gesturing wildly towards the closet. Much to her surprise, the husband was so spooked that he fainted and was out for a good forty-five seconds before she woke him up. After he got up and shook the cobwebs out, they quickly discussed the best course of action to take.
Since the fifteen pound turkey was already in the oven, they agreed that the best course of action would be to leave it in there and pray nobody needed the closet. Figuring out how it got there was a whole nother matter that was to be discussed after the relatives left.
Family came and dinner was served. The turkey was divine, and the accouterments were delicious. It was approximately 9:00 and only the elderly parents of the couple were remaining. The couple had allowed them to feast on the leftovers while they watched their beloved Bears play the hated Packers. The elderly were happily chatting away, and one mother had even mimicked the Joker's scars on their faces with cranberry sauce. Laughter was heard through the whole house. To get cleaned up, she wondered to herself where the napkins were, Murmuring, she began searching all of the cabinets, before the other mother said that she thought they were in the pantry. She thanked her, puttered over to the cabinet, and opened it. A chorus of screams erupted, and the weary couple averted their eyes from the television and began investigating what happened.
The parents had found the skeleton, and had all fainted. The couple put the elderly in their cars before they woke up and just hoped they would figure out to drive themselves home, because they were definitely not going to be let back in the house. With doors and windows all locked, they returned to watching the Bears, before falling into restless sleep on the couch.
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[ WP ] Humanity filially contacts god to find out his only wish is to die .
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We are Man. Ours was the Eden that was denied. Ours was the Earth and all that lived upon it that we named. Ours were the skies we conquered with gas and wing and fire.
We are Man. We are War, and Death, and Strife and Fury. We are the masters of battle. We are the lords of war. Ever since there was Man, Man fought. Man fought against Man. And when others made war on Man, Man fought back.
The Swarm made war on Man. The Swarm won, but Man lived on, and struck back. There is no more Swarm. The League made war on Man. The League won, but Man lived on, and struck back. There is no more League. The Few made war on Man. There is no more Few. There is no more Empire and Federation and Triumvirate. All who fought Man are no more.
We are Man, children of God. In His name, we warred and won. At long last, we are worthy. At long last, we found Him. And He made war on Man.
And God won.
But Man lived on.
And soon, very soon, there will be no more God.
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-043 | [ more ] ( /r/vonBoomslang )
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[ WP ] You are suicidal , however , you are also immortal and indestructible .
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He looks out at the street far below him and all the car below. Though it's late, there's always people downtown. He decides to take the quick way down and leans his body forward. He plummets to the streets below. His body makes a thunderous crash as he lands onto a parked jeep, smashing it like a wrecking ball. His body lets out a large exhale and he lifts himself off of the wreckage. The owner steps out of the business, shocked at his vehicle.
`` You asshole!''
He goes over to look at his wrecked vehicle. The man addresses him while walking.
`` Insurance ought to cover it'' he says dismissively, walking forward. The jeep owner is n't done though. He tries to walk in front of the man and take a swing. But the walking man quickly dodges it.
`` Sorry?'' He says, in a weak effort to show empathy.
The jeep owner swings and connects this time, but his target does n't budge an inch. The jeep owner clutches his fist in pain and exclaims; it was like punching concrete. The reckless man keeps walking down the street.
He comes to a strip club. It was a familiar place. He walks into the doors. The huge bouncers look tough and intimidating until they see who just came in. Their tough façade is easily rattled by the much smaller man. Everyone in the club is business as usual until they see his face and one by one, all stop what they're doing and freeze. The man goes up to the main stage and enjoys a seat, looking very much blank with emotionless eyes. The dancer coming onto stage recognizes him, but keeps dancing anyway, despite her nerves. The man reaches into his pocket and holds out a five dollar bill for the blonde and. She shakes taking the bill from him.
`` Tell me...'' He asks her. `` Am I good, Barbara? Am I a good person?''
She's scared to answer, but finally does, in a Russian accent. `` Y-y-y-yes, Martin! You're a good man!''
`` Then why ca n't I find love?'' He asks.
`` I... I do n't know!''
He gently grabs Barbara's cheek. `` Do you love me, Barbara?''
She does n't know how to answer and is too scared to know what to say. One of the customers, an older war vet, stood up to address the situation.
`` Hey, why do n't you show the lady some respect?''
He merely tilts his head in the war vets way, then responds. `` Oh? This is n't respectful enough for you?''
Clearly, the 40-something vet was new around here. `` Do n't make me have to do something you'll regret!''
The man gets up and looks up at the gentleman. He grabs his arm to expose his hand, then raises the man's hand upward and quickly proceeds to snap the war vets's pointer finger in one swift blow as a snap could be heard by his finger breaking. The vet grabs his broken finger in intense pain, as the man looks at the dancer, Barbara. Everyone else in the club witnesses the incident as the hi Hi music keeps playing.
`` Here in America, this is what we call irony.''
He proceeds to walk out as the two 6'5'' bouncers happily let him.
The man named Martin walked towards the waterfront nearby. Lots of unmanned ships were around. He stares out into the dark view of the water ahead of him and tightly closes his eyes. He's holding it all back. He wants to cry, but physically ca n't even bring himself to shed a year. He's been numb for too long.
After a few seconds that feel like an eternity, he opens his eyes, sighs and walks off again. He makes his way down the busy streets as it was five minutes to midnight. Same look of numbness as before.
As he made it to the intersection however, he stopped and noticed a girl. A pretty, very large, full-figured redhead lady in red lipstick, makeup and a somewhat 50's inspired dress and matching heels. She had to be at least 6'3'' and a size 20. As she began to cross the street, her attention caught the male who was looking at her. She stared at him in both unnatural curiosity and intrigue, as if her face was saying,'Hello, who is this?'
As she stared, a bus with an inattentive driver was heading towards her. The driver did n't stare up until it was too late. However, the buxom redhead simply put her arm and hand out to her side and stopped the bus in its tracks, displaying superhuman strength, while still staring at the man. He finally made it down to her side as she now finished crossing the street.
Martin went up to her, showing interest in something for the first time in a long time.
`` Hi.''
`` Hello good looking!'' She responded.
`` Have you ever tried to simply die, but can never get it right?''
`` Only every night,'' she responds.
`` Me too!'' He says. He extends his hand out for a shake.
`` Martin.''
She shakes his hand. `` Mallory.''
`` I'm a short ugly loser who's going to not-die alone. That's basically my whole backstory.''
`` Better than being a fat red giantess no man wants to touch.'' She responds.
There was then a brief moment of silence.
`` If I took your beautiful giant red body back to my place and ordered some pizza and watched some movies, you think a plane would crash into my building and we would n't get up from it?''
`` Probably.'' Mallory responds.
`` Win-win then, right?''
`` Yeah. I'm _dying_ to get to know you!'' Mallory says.
`` Dead right!'' Martin responds.
The two walk down the street chatting with the bus still stopped in the middle of the intersection.
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[ WP ] You meet Death in the most unlikely of places .
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I wrote mine and posted it on my [ blog ] ( http: //gloriestostories.blogspot.com )! I do a story in 15-20 minutes every day, look it over quick and post it. thanks for the great prompt!: )
Harold slashed and stabbed at the mighty beasts within his dream. He had been a hero in many, defeating all forms of villains and mythical beasts. He had been a sheriff shooting up outlaws, a superhero defeating criminals and supervillains, and a kid coming back at his bullies.
This time, he was a wondrous knight, armor of bright steel, sword and shield in hand, slaying hundreds of goblins, orcs, ravenous wolves and beasts that were unleashed. He fought his way to the castle to save the princess. Through the brambles and harsh terrain to the tower, he encountered the mightiest of enemies, the dragon king, Hazras.
“ You can not defeat me, foolish Harold! Fight me, and die! ” Hazras yelled, scorching the land around him, brambles, trees and all as he evaded the flame breath. I must not give up, I must save the princess! He played along, knowing it was simply a dream. He dodged and slashed, slicing the dragon ’ s heels and belly, guarding against his meat hook-like claws. Hazras ’ fire blackened Harold ’ s shield, but did not melt it. Harold ran in for the final blow. I must save the princess, anything for her! He thought, running to strike the final blow to the dragon ’ s chest. He thrusted his sword deep beneath the beast ’ s scales. Hazras roared in pain, falling dead to the ground, causing Harold to jump out of the way.
With Hazras ’ body as silent as the night, Harold stood victorious. He walked closer, attempting to stand upon the beast, to raise his sword to victory. In the corner of his eye, he saw a black-robed figure in the distance, walking closer. He carried a scythe, seven feet tall, arms as long as could be. His hands were absent of flesh. His hood was pitch black within, face unseen. Who is that? He had heard stories of death, the one robed in black who carried a scythe.
“ Are you death? ”
“ Yes, child. ” The figure replied, in a hallowed voice.
“ Why are you here? ”
The figure stood still.
Harold looked back to the beast, roaring of victory over it in his dream. The beast came alive once more, throwing Harold off. Harold was too slow to react, as the beast ’ s maw overtook him, biting into his flesh. He writhed in pain more than ever before, he had never felt pain in a dream like this, never suffered nor died.
Harold awoke in his small bed at home, seven years old once more. Heart racing, breathing quickly. “ Phew, ” he said. He got out of bed, feeling a little groggy, and cold, so cold. He shivered, looking to the corner of his room by the window. The hooded, skeletal figure stood with his scythe in hand.
“ Why are you here? ” Harold asked.
“ I am here for you, child. ” Death replied.
“ But I was dreaming, I am not dead. ” Harold poised, he was muddled at the thought.
“ Dreams are more real than one would think. ”
“ But It was a dream. My body is fine. ” Harold glanced back to his bed, seeing his body laying still, unmoving. What is this? He thought. How could this happen?
“ The body can not live without the mind. ”
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[ CW ] Write a story without using the letter 'e '
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Samanta was in a dark coat: long, silky, and tight on womanly hips. My doorway was too drab for such a work of art. I was struck with want for a coat of paint. I swung my chair away.
“ Fancy that, huh? I found you. ” That ghost sang to my back. I didn ’ t turn.
“ Lucky as usual. I told you, I don ’ t do that work nowadays. ” It wasn ’ t fiction. I ’ d hung up that old coat, that old man. My guns, my cigars, that was history. Old gangs, young thugs, any and all could run this town. That optimistic young P.I. was kaput. I told Samantha so.
“ What a buffoon. ” Sam said, ruby lips all wrong in a smirk. “ You can ’ t quit. Not any of us can quit. ”
I didn ’ t say a word. Samantha slid away, but not without dropping a gift: familiar manila, that slanting, taunting handwriting in all black. *Do what you must. *
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[ WP ] Somebody getting catfished by a moth
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Ellen.
I always knew she was too good for me.
A bright light in the otherwise vast empty darkness of my life. She even shone on her profile through the LCD screen, making me almost dizzy.
As much time as I had, before Ellen, was spent searching at night. I bounced between places, bright lights and strange faces, until always settling down at first light.
Oh Ellen my sun, my light, I want to fall and drown in your eyes, your hair and your smile. Alas, every time I try I still fail.
Consume me within your endless bright beauty.
Ellen thought, completely and truly furiously, as she flailed her arms savagely,'will this moth just fuck off?'
Nothing was on in her room except the screen on her phone as she waited patiently for Mathew to come home.
She wondered often where he went at night. Truthfully other ( more genetically endowed ) girls sprang to her mind. She often thought that something could n't be right - but no one person alive had ever treated her as nice as Mathew.
Despite not yet meeting, he made Ellen feel 10 feet tall.
Perhaps she thought, whilst dealing an almost lethal blow to the moth, well perhaps he's gone off me after all?
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[ WP ] A Woman is trapped in a room in which the walls are mirrors
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The woman woke up feeling the cold beneath her.
As she opened her eyes, an amusing thought: *I ’ m not in Kansas anymore. *
She was surrounded by mirrors, her figure infinitely reflected on the horizon in all of them. She didn ’ t panic, not yet.
She was wearing an unfamiliar red dress, which confirmed her initial suspicions of being drugged and placed in this strange room. She was wearing make up and looked pretty, as if she was ready to go to a ball, except that she didn ’ t have any shoes.
She stood up. She wasn ’ t feeling cold in the room, except for the direct contact of her feet -although she was wearing stockings- in the mirror floor.
The room was a perfect square of approximately four meters. Apart from the mirrors, the only other object was a small lamp attached to the ceiling above her, emitting a warm light that illuminated the whole room.
She approached the front wall and examined it carefully, running her hands through it looking for any hidden levers, although she suspected the doors - if any - were operated from the outside.
She cleared her voice and shouted: “ Hello, can anybody hear me? ” knocked the walls powerfully for a few seconds and waited.
Nothing, not a single sound was coming from the outside. She was suddenly aware of the deep silence. It was a little unnerving, being the only source of sound in the room, and she was aware of her heart beating and her breathing, which was starting to get more agitated. She remembered reading about an experiment in a room in Minnesota with almost perfect silence, and how nobody could stay more than forty five minutes in the room before starting to go crazy.
She closed her eyes and tried to relax, breathing deeply. Years of training in action now, she blanked her mind, while being mindful of the air brushing slowly against the back of her nose, and then back again through their orifices.
Once she was calm, she remembered now turning off the lights of her one bed apartment before falling asleep. She hadn ’ t noticed anything extraordinary that evening -she wasn ’ t sure how many hours had passed since then- and she had followed her usual routine during the day.
She had made some enemies in her short and successful career, she was aware of that. However, she would have expected to face her revenge in the form of the barrel of a gun from a hired assassin, rather than a mirror prison God knows where.
She focused now in thinking of ways to get out of the room. The lamp appeared inaccessible, four meters above her, but even if she could have reached it, did she really want to mess with her only light source to discover that there was nothing else but the mirror ceiling above it?
She assumed that the glass of the mirrors would be strong enough to resist her blows, but she had to try. Using the palms of her hands she started to hit one of the walls at different points, with enough force to knock out a grown man. She did the same on the floor, jumping and applying pressure with the sole of her feet. Nothing. If she continued she would just exhaust herself, and without a water source, she had to conserve her energy.
The woman calmed herself once more against the primal panic of being trapped in, and reached the only logical conclusion she could under these conditions.
She would have to wait.
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[ IP ] Dreams of Flight
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Kara holds tighter to the Sky Turtle ’ s shell, feeling the wind whip through her hair and across her clothing. The lights below gleam in the twilight. Her hood fell off long ago, the hood flapping in the wind as well. She ’ s chilled from the air so high up, not wearing much past the ruffled over shirt and tall socks.
The turtle tilts his wings, circling to the side of Yokohama bay. Before, she had been scraping across the top of the clouds, in a herd with the rest of the turtles. They must be coming in for a landing, now that they ’ re below the clouds. The wings of the turtle flap strongly, even as it curves downward to head towards the docks.
Kara shivers, clinging tighter to the shell. She ’ s happy that he ’ s dropping her off in the same location that he picked her up at. She wouldn ’ t have to go searching for her shoes and bag like the last time he dropped her off. He continues to circle down until he ’ s just skimming the water. Sky Turtles did well far away from the water, but they did get preyed upon by Great White Sharks when they came close to the water ’ s surface.
A few more seconds and the Sky Turtle curves slightly above the water ’ s surface. He slows further, moving slow enough that Kara can simply hop off onto the dock, tumbling along the boards of the dock.
“ Thank you! ” She calls after him as he speeds back up, circling back up into the sky. She sits on the dock for a while, watching the speck of the turtle climb back into the sky with a smile as night settles in around the city.
***
^ ( *Feel free to check out more of my writing at /r/Syraphia* )
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