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[ WP ] There 's a new smart drug on the streets , but the police can not outsmart criminals unless they take the drug themselves .
| `` It's fucked. They have us at every turn and corner. Every fucking time we think we're close to pinning the source we turn up with fuck all.'' This was the third time this week the chief was bitching without any glimmer of a purpose, and you could tell by his lack of creativity in profanities. Michaels and Johnson were already dozing off in the corner. They knew the case was useless at this point, despite the fact we were all as professional as the NYPD gets.
We had been working on the case for 4 months now without a single arrest, and everyone knew why- they we're smarter than us. Not your college degree type smart, or using fancy words smart, it was the'leave you scratching your head while they steal your shoes' type smart. My work week has been typically chocked full of dead ends, empty warehouses, and not a single suspect - but last week something changed. we finally found a shipment of Hypolinium-synthobendol-diazaomortryptophen. We call it Linium for short - but the street name these days is Albert. It hit the market 6 months ago after 2 pharmaceutical scientists we're murdered and all their findings and research were stolen. Since then its been nothing short of a shit show. Murder rates are through the roof and crime is sky rocketing. I've seen homeless people in Ferrari's, millionaires reduced to pennies, strippers turn celebrities, and celebrities turn strippers- but now that I think of it I'm sure that part is n't anything new. Credit card companies and banks are failing because they ca n't encrypt anyones information fast enough, so'smart' people are just stick to cash these days.
`` Who the fuck has any fucking ideas? God damn it Michaels, wake the fuck up! somebody give him some fucking coffee.''
I chuck my half-empty thermos at his head. I watch it bounce off his forearm, skim his head and land on the floor.
`` Thank you, Albert.'' Chief mutters.
I do n't bother speaking because I already know how this meeting is going to end. I'm drinking coffee now out of sheer habit, not because I need to. I had the Idea we all needed earlier this week, and since then I've had literally millions more. This is all just a nice display of formality, and I'll let them talk and feel better for it - as though they could get any closer to catching anyone. But they wont, not like this. See because before you try it, you ca n't help but wonder why such smart people would n't be honest and make money the'right' way, use their intelligence to contribute to society, help create the sustainable world we all need... etcetera, etcetera, so on and so forth. But then you know. It all becomes clearer than all those empty warehouses. Being human becomes overrated. Morality is the steel chain that tethers the poor to the rich, the pathetic to the resilient, the dead to the living. It is weakness, a symptom of meaningless emotion, an outdated survival instinct that is now obsolete. I've lived my life with it as a driving force, guiding my every decision and action since my mother taught me to say'you're welcome.' But now, now I can finally get to work.
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[ EU ] You were born to be the avatar , however , you split in the womb and now you only bend 2 elements , and your identical brother/sister bends the other two . You are writing your life 's journey , and your time is about to come .
| We were meant to do this together. That was the only way it would work. Even though this was a challenge whole generations have never seen, we were meant to bring peace. But how could the elements of the world be divided? When the cosmic energy is split, the result can ’ t possibly end well.
Yet we avoided the haunting idea all our lives. The nations were at war with each other. Kings, chiefs, warlords, and monks alike fell and rose in the span of bloodied decades. And while the soldiers sharpened their blades, the small folk looked towards us for salvation. But the hope in their eyes was tainted with despair. They knew, like we knew, that the avatar had returned as an abomination. A deformity. A freak. In pieces. The elements were shattered, in both the world and in the avatar.
But we tried. In our training, I grew powerful and graceful, while she grew swift and savage. I prayed and she danced. I attained wisdom and enlightenment as she attained glory and honor. With meditation, I waited. With a warrior ’ s spirit, she grew restless. Soon, we fell apart. She told me to be merciless and abrupt when moving the earth, and to be rapid and stinging with water. I told her to focus the flame and to flow with the air. We didn ’ t heed each other ’ s words, and now we must pay the price.
She saw the battle torn lands as an opportunity to unite all the nations under one leader. To form a rigid society that pays homage and loyalty to the avatar itself, and no one else. Those that stood in her way were scorched or suffocated. She wielded fire and air like torture devices. My friends, my family, and my people all tasted her wrath.
I saw through the fog that clouded her judgment. As long as I matched her in power, I wouldn ’ t let the realm fall to her. It was a one way trip. We came into this world together, and we were going out together. I shall dowse the flame and stand strong against the wind. Our deaths will welcome the new savior. Hopefully this time, it is whole.
The next avatar can save the world. I need it to be over.
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[ wp ] Each year the USA government closes out a year from the past . When they do , all crimes committed that year are wiped clean . Criminals may now confess their crimes without punishment . You 've been making the headlines for decades .
| `` Thing is, Nolan, criminals should n't feel offended at being called roaches.''
The reporter raised an eyebrow at me from across the coffee table. We were in a Starbucks on a Friday night, full of chatty teenagers. Sometimes, either one of us would need to raise our voices to be heard. `` Why is that, Mr. Clay?''
I sipped my coffee. `` See, we got one thing in common with those dirty sons of bitches. When the light comes on, we run.''
`` Yet earlier, you said you're different.''
`` Tell me, do you trust the government?''
Nolan shrugged. `` I do n't think my opinion—''
`` Answer the damned question.''
`` Not really. I mean, everyone knows they're spying on us. Even as a journalist, I do n't always get to—''
`` So if you ordinary folk do n't trust the government, what makes you think criminals will? Come forth and let your sins be washed away, as long as you committed them in this or that year, arbitrarily chosen by your man in that big white house?''
I scoffed. `` Was brought up Christian, you know. Far as I know, only one fella can pardon you. Humans ai n't so forgiving or forgetful.''
Nolan's expression became thoughtful. `` Last year, the government chose 2012. Fifty-six people came forward with confessions.''
`` I saw the newspapers. Eighty murders in total, along with a bunch of petty crimes. One woman ate six of her neighbors' cats. Hilarious.''
`` Really? I do n't see what's funny about that.''
I laughed. `` The cats? Who cares about the cats? I'm talking about the math. Eighty murders? There are several times that number of homicides alone in New York City, let alone the state or the country. Does n't that prove what I've been saying? Criminals do n't want a spotlight on them. How many of those fifty-six ended up being re-arrested for other crimes in other un-pardoned years?''
`` More than half.'' Before I could interrupt, he said, `` Let's revisit my earlier question. Why, then, are you keen on publicity?''
`` You're making me blush. I do n't know what you're talking about.''
`` 1978. You murdered seven people. Or so you confessed.''
`` Eight, actually. She was looking for her mom and dad, and would n't stop crying.''
Nolan blanched, but turned a page on his notebook. `` 1996. A shooting in Central Park. Fifteen dead, including two police officers.''
I shrugged. `` I wanted to clear the air. The Russian mob was making their move; I was only defending myself. Everyone accused my organization of being responsible. But that's nothing compared to the bus bomb bank robbery in December.''
`` I understand you were arrested for that.''
`` Released two years later when the government decided to pardon that year.'' I leaned forward and motioned for him to come closer. `` Listen, you wan na know what I think? The real reason behind these pardons?'' His eyes gained a hungry look. `` Yes, you can write this down.''
`` I think the government just wanted a way to pardon their own people. You know, the assassinations and the espionage and the sabotage and spying, on Americans by Americans. Those guys in suits, working for all those three-acronym agencies, they do a lot more shit than us. Why else would they pardon crimes from 1999 to 2001?''
Nolan licked his lips and did n't answer, jotting furiously.
Smirking, I leaned back. `` Besides, when you confess, you get a reputation. Respect. No, not from local shrimps. The big players. 2001 was a pretty great year for me. Sold a lot of intel to foreign players.''
`` You did n't confess that,'' Nolan said.
`` Off the record, please.'' I drained my cup of coffee and looked at my watch. `` Well, the biggest one was still 2012, of course. I believe you wrote the article.'Crime lord comes clean; biggest theft of the century'.''
`` Man, those banks and financial institutions just do n't get it, do they? It's the information age! Security first; efficiency and whatnot second. Twenty billion. Twenty and frickin' loads of zeroes. That's what they get for underestimating Chinese tech.''
Nolan nodded and flipped a page. `` Let's move to the big question, shall we? You're making a confession tomorrow for 2015; care to give me the scoop?''
I grinned. `` How about a riddle? The Vietnamese ambassador. Fourteen train carriages. Ca n't be giving you everything, right? You a journalist, do some research. Texan governor. The four judges. The Syrian massacre.''
Nolan gulped. `` I... I guess I have some reading to do.''
`` Sure you do. Well, I think we'll be seeing each other in court tomorrow.''
We stood and shook hands. As I turned to leave, a young man whose face was full of piercings came up to me. `` You Mr. Clay?''
I nodded.
He pushed a gun into my chest and opened fire. There was screaming, and a lot of people running, but I could n't turn my head much from the floor. The boy backed away as Nolan crouched beside me.
`` There's a reason why roaches do n't show themselves,'' he said softly. `` Because, eventually, all pests meet the same end. You're a big man, Mr. Clay, but too arrogant for your own good. Just because the government would n't touch you, does n't mean we wo n't.''
`` And guess what?'' He took the gun from the young man's hand and held it against my temple. `` Next year, when the government decides 2016 was a great year, they would n't even hold this against me.''
***
*Thanks for reading! Do check out [ The Nonsense Locker ] ( http: //reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker ) for more stories! *
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[ WP ] When turning 21 , everyone develops a mutation , either physical ( Claws , horns , wings ) or mental ( telekinesis , extreme intelligence , etc ) . You 've just turned 21 , and you 're terrified of what you 've gained ( though others will be impressed ) .
| ( This is my first story on here, please bear with my on any mistakes or if its just bad... here we go! )
I've been a gamer for almost my entire life. Fantasy in games became reality for me to escape my awful life growing up. I'm the basic,'single mom, no dad, no money' kinda kid. Yet somehow I always scraped up enough money to buy the latest hit games, granted it was one game every other month or two.
I had been stressing about my mutation for years, wondering what it could be and what I could possibly do with it. I thought of it like a toy, I could be a real life superhero... just like everyone else. Thing is, power can change a person, fast.
I woke up right after midnight on my 21st birthday, feeling the intense burning all throughout my body, as everyone does receiving their power. After a few minutes of pain, it was over, and I was left wondering what I had been given. I tried lifting things in my one room apartment, no effect. I've always been a scrawny kid, no strength gains. I tried telekenisis, I wanted to be like Obi Wan. Still nothing. I tried to read my neighbors mind when asking for some coffee creamer the next morning. Still nothing. Then it happened.
I was walking alone, as someone with quite literally no friends does, when some guys tried to jump me. Their powers were obvious. Strength, claws, and the biggest was made of rock. Since the powers first started, it's separated people into many groups, mainly the good and the bad. These were clearly the bad, the ones who abuse kids who have n't reached 21 yet.
They picked me for being the scrawny kid I was, and assumed I did n't have my power yet. Even though I did, I did n't know what it was. They came at me, and I closed my eyes and held my hands up to shield the blows... and none came. I opened my eyes and a red, semitransparent shield was blocking their attempts to hurt me.
`` I'm a conjurer... oh my God...'' I mumbled to myself as I made a sword appear and cut large gashes into all of them. They fell to the ground, and I made a headsman's ax appear and behead them, rather than let them bleed out.
After that incident, I realized how much power can get to your head. `` There are way too many bad people in the world... maybe I can do something about it...'' I said to myself as I walked through the worst neighborhood in Dallas. The criminals ran through the streets causing mayhem. I called their attention and they charged me. A lance here, a conjured bus over there, and even a few summoned, golem-like warriors dispatched most of the bunch fairly quickly. They stopped, realized that I had a very uncommon mutation. The'leader' approached me, and offered me to take his place.
Now I rule most of the city, controlling the city with fear of my ever growing power and army of hood rat mutants.
The heroes usually win in comic books, but this is n't any dashing white knight's tale of heroism, this is my attempt at power. After all, power can really get to a person's head.
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[ WP ] You have been awake for over three days straight but you ca n't sleep . If you do , someone will die .
| *Sunday, May 11, *
Three days ago I found out about my condition, and three days ago was the last time I had tasted sleep. I was incredulous at first, when I was brought in by the worldwide funded NCP, or the Natural Cause Phenomenon, Research Group. However…the file in front of me quickly turned that incredulity into denial, fear, and hysteria.
12,525 days I had been alive and more or less than 12,525 lives had been lost. The countless faces in the overfilled file were all killed -- *murdered* -- by me, because I fell asleep. The elderly, sick, disabled, men, women, children, everyone…were in this file because *I fucking fell asleep*.
I could maybe live with one or two maybe with extensive therapy, but in the thousands? But 12,525? **Twelve-thousand five-hundred twenty-five people** dead. All because life has a twisted sense of humor and watched on as I unwittingly killed 12,525 human beings to entertain it with my sick existence.
The NCP Group have tried to reassure me that they will find a cure so I can live a normal life and even to ensure my condition to be kept a secret for my safety. They ran many tests on my while I was there with the request I return upon request for further analyzation. The Group sent me home many hours later with suggestions of dramatically adjusting my sleep schedule to cut the amount of times I sleep as little as possible by prolonging the amount of hours I stay awake and in consequence, prolonging the hours I sleep without interruption.
Day one was easy enough as my mind was too preoccupied, a mixture of coffee and energy drinks carried me over day two, but day three has been consumed by my delirium that no amount of blaring music can cure and the only thing keeping me awake is what's left of my stubbornness and lingering horror. I ca n't keep this up; surely I will collapse tomorrow - if not today, and kill another.
I'm not strong enough for this, and am ashamed to admit that I'm more consumed by the fear of what everyone else will do to me when this inevitably leaks out that I'm the one who took away so many loved ones from the world than of myself. That's why I'm writing this, because I'm too much of a coward to face the masses and receive what I deserve and I want the world to know that I am not doing this out of some self-sacrificing heroism.
I'm doing this because I am weak, and am much too afraid to end it with a quick bang.
I'm afraid of pain and would rather take one more with me than to die in any other way than my sleep. I truly am a monster.
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[ WP ] A superhero finally kills his super villain for something unforgivable .
| `` Holy shit, what did you *do? *''
The man in front of her whipped around, the body of a child in his arms and his pants around his ankles. The logo on his overly-muscled chest was spotted with blood.
His widened in horror. `` Oh god, not you. Anyone but you.''
She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. `` God, I knew you had escaped from prison, and I figured you'd strike again, but this? This is unlike you. You're a grandstander. You threaten to blow up nations, not a-'' She struggled for her words and eventually just sighed.
`` I thought you were above raping kids.''
He dropped the body and quickly pulled up his pants. He had purposefully chosen his white uniform to contrast her black one. Looking at the obvious blood on it now, he was regretting that decision.
`` Please,'' he begged, `` Don't-''
`` Do n't *what? *'' Her anger got the better of her. `` Do n't pull that bullshit. You were a monster, but at least you seemed to have *standards*. I have no choice. This crosses the line.''
She pulled her pistol from its holster and leveled at his forehead. At twenty feet, it was practically a point-blank shot for her. His muscles and speed ca n't stop one of her bullets at this distance.
He dropped the charade. `` You thought I had standards? I'm a fucking *supervillian*. We're not in a comic book, honey. This is real life, and in real life, the bad guys do n't have standards. I respect you, I really do, but that idealism is going to get you killed one day. So go ahead, shoot me.'' He paused. `` That's what I thought. You think having your standards of'justice' make you better, but all they do is weaken you. You're-''
She pulled the trigger, sending a custom explosive round into his frontal lobe. The headless, former supervillian crumpled to the ground, next to the body of his victim.
She walked up to his body and spat on it.
`` Asshole.''
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[ WP ] You are kidnapped by a cult , and they are about to sacrifice you to their god . They do n't know that you are that god .
| In hindsight, he didn ’ t really dress for the occasion. When you think of a thousand-year-old God making his first appearance ever. Camo shorts and a Hawaiian shirt don ’ t usually come to mind. And it definitely didn ’ t come to mind to a small tribe in the middle of the rainforest. They welcomed him by calling him the devil and building a massive fire and sticking him in the middle. All he wanted to do was show these guys how grateful he was that they were still worshipping him after all this time. Even after he had abandoned them.
It was Loki ’ s fault. He damned near forced him to come down here and show his appreciation. Although he has been a bit of a prick ever since those movies came out, fucking Tom Hiddelston.
He was against it at first. He had heard the stories. Reveal yourself as a God and you don ’ t get to be a living God for much longer. But he decided to take the risk. It was better than being forgotten about and turned mortal. Fuck that shit. And Loki told him that Death hadn ’ t went after a God in years. He didn ’ t even think he was up for it.
He wasn ’ t too worried at first as the fire started below his feet. He thought, if anything this is just gon na be embarrassing for them when they burn through the wood and realise that he can ’ t die.
He tried to explain to the chief who he was but got squared in the mouth with a rock for his troubles. It was like lighting had struck his bottom lip. A new sensation he knew only as pain ran through his body. Followed by the taste of blood. Then heat. Then fear.
**They had forgotten about him. **
It didn ’ t make any sense. He had came here for them. After all this time they spent praising him. Begging for him to appear and show them the way. And when he finally did they had moved on.
The flames spread faster and he could hear the chief ask God for a good hunt, a warm season and an abundance of strong warriors from the tribeswoman ’ s bellies. It took a moment for him to realise that they were no longer asking for him.
As the flames engulfed him, his howls were met with the tribe ’ s chants and praises to their new god. One who watched the fire from a distance. In silence.
“ Loki, Loki, Loki… ”
Loki used to be cool. He hadn ’ t played a trick on someone in thousands of years. Fucking Tom Hiddelston.
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[ WP ] Make the saddest love story without involving any deaths , breakups , or separations .
| They met on a club, she was n't supposed to be there.
He asked her to dance, and after much hesitation she agreed.
They had common friends, so they would see each other often.
She was taken, and could only see him as a friend.
Years passed and they continued talking, him waiting for her to realize they were meant to be together.
`` I see us growing old together, complaining about the world and how it changes, side by side, in old wooden rocking chairs,'' he joked.
He warned her he could n't wait forever.
When she finally realized it, he had found someone else.
Both being so faithful, they only dared to speak but once more.
`` I guess I'll see you later on then,'' he said.
`` In our old, wooden, rocking chairs,'' she whispered as she left.
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[ EU ] You find a large Ziploc bag containing over two hundred NZT pills from the movie Limitless
| `` What the fuck?'' I said to myself as I held the bag. `` This ca n't be what I think it is.'' I proceed to walk towards my apartment as if it was just another day.
I close the door behind me and check the peep hole to make sure I was n't followed. `` No time to waste.'' As I was walking towards the kitchen to get a bottled water, all I can think about is how awesome it is going to be. I've heard countless stories about these super pills. It was exclusively sold only to people with a lot of money. Lots. With one pill in my hand and the water bottle in the other, I take one breath and popped it in my mouth and downed the whole bottle.
`` This feeling'' I said as the euphoria of peace and tranquility along with a sensation of my brain being filled with skills and gifts that can only come from within. `` This must be what it feels like to have money.''
I look at the mirror in my living room and say one of my favorite lines of one of my favorite movies while waving my finger in the air. `` And here. We. Go'' With that being said, I get my bus pass and head out the door of my apartment.
`` Oh yeah, this is going to be fun''
It was a great time to begin my new adventure. Ideas were bouncing around in my brain. Left and right. Up and down. `` Ah yes, basic stuff'' I said under my breath. Walking towards the bus stop with a pep in my step, I knew deep down in my heart that this is going to be the last time that I ever have to deal with this shit.
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[ WP ] You have obtained a time machine , but you have been warned that you will age backwards or forwards depending on what time you visit .
| You truly attempt to try out this great machine. The first date you set is forward about 2 days. You are warped forward to the day. You see that everything is completely normal. The only strange thing is that you know exactly what happened yesterday. You can vividly remember what you ate for breakfast, french toast with peanut butter and jelly. You can remember that you took your dog and 3 year old daughter to the park and played all day. Yet, you know you did not live that day. You think that maybe this will continue to happen so you travel 2 years into the future. Today is the day you send your daughter to kindergarten, you hold back tears as she whispers `` I love you Daddy'' into your ear then runs off to join her friends in class. You stand, wondering where the time went, how it seemed to speed by. Days you remember but you did not live. You enjoy the moment then you use the machine to skip ahead 18 years. The day is her wedding day and you walk her down the isle to her waiting groom-to-be. You are holding back tears as you let her go and she whispers `` I love you Daddy.'' You have never been so happy for her yet you still wonder how you remember your little girl graduating high school, getting into her dream college, then graduating from there. You wonder how you remember these things knowing you have skipped those dates using the machine. You reach for the machine to turn it 30 years into the future. You're on your bed in the hospital surrounded by your daughter, son-in-law, and all four of their children. You are weak and old and clinging on to life hoping to last a few more minutes, a few more hours. You remember having such a great life, welcoming in your grandkids, vacations, retirement. Yet the thought still nags at you, how you remember but you never truly lived those days. When the time comes everyone knows. You hear your daughter whisper `` I love you Daddy'' and you start to cry. You reach for the machine hoping to turn it back to the first day, that day 40 years ago. But as you look for it, it's gone. Its only then you realize there was never a machine. Its only then that you realize you spent your whole time looking ahead that you forgot to look at the now.
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[ FF ] [ 150 WORDS ] The Last Video On Earth
| It has been three months since the Great Death. I wander the ruins of Houston, trying to make sense of what wicked world I live in now, while trying to hold onto the remnants of a life I once lived before civilization fell. One afternoon, I found a VHS tape- Still protected by a paper case, labeled'the Last VHS on Earth.' so, with my curiosity, I hooked up a VCR and TV to an old generator, hoping that I'd see a message from another soul, some thing I have n't had in ages. The world was a miserable and lonely place. I sat back in the chair, outside of the old library, and pressed'PLAY' on the VCR.
`` HELLO, FRIENDS, TODAY WE'RE GOING TO SWEAT TO THE OLDIES!'' The tiny, unusual man with a brown afro shouted, performing synchronized exercises with elderly men and women behind him. `` AND ONE..''
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[ WP ] Peace hath her victories no less renowned than war .
| Major Tycho Novak laughed at the words, his artificial eyes glowing brightly in the dim light of the officers' lounge.
`` Kid, there's exactly two kinds of peace; the temporary and the permanent. The Temporary is the more common one. The two sides get tired of killing and sign a peace treaty promising not to attack and to stay on their side of the fence. Those never last. Humans are bastards and as soon as their side is rested and resupplied, after they have had a generation or two to recoup their losses they strike. They fight, they kill, they die all over again until once more they either succeed in their objectives or more likely get tired of throwing their sons and daughters into the grinder. So they declare peace *again, * using that quiet period of time to rest and rearm. And then, the other side attacks to recapture lost territory from the last war. Sensing a pattern?
`` Now the permanent peace, that is the one where you wipe your foe clean off the map. Carthage, Nazi Germany, the Amaris Empire. They wo n't be troubling us anymore. We did more than defeat them, we crushed them utterly, their remains found only in the history books. You must be willingly to break a culture completely if you want them never to threaten you again. You demolish their temples, burn their libraries with their caretakers inside. Slaughter their religious leaders wherever they're found. Teach them your language, your faith and raise their children from birth to be like you and not like their grandparents.''
`` But that's... that's cultural genocide.''
Novak nodded, idly brushing a thumb over his black collar tab with its three silver pips.
`` It is. It's terrible and wrong. And that is why we will always have war. There is no one willing to take that ultimate step, to become irredeemable in the eyes of mankind and god. Perhaps that was why Lucifer fell from Heaven, to save man from the curse God Himself placed on them. He was willing to be cast away from the light of God to suffer for the Sins of Man.''
`` You mean like Christ?''
Major Novak smiled ruefully, taking a sip of his beer.
`` Now there's an interesting thought...''
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[ WP ] The apocalypse scenario of your choice has happened and you are the last person alive . Electricity and the internet are still running . As a last ditch effort you take to /r/askreddit , `` Is there anybody else out there ? '' Weeks later , you receive a single upvote , but no reply ...
| It was becoming strange counting the days. It was becoming strange not speaking. I used to enjoy being alone, but this was far too much to handle without slowly losing my loose grip on sanity. I was starting to hear things in my head, things that were n't real. At least I'm almost sure that they were n't real. It had been approximately two years since the last day. That was the day the sky turned dark and they came. They came from nowhere and went right back, beasts careening through the clouds straight down to the earth. Sleek, powerful spacecraft that just seemed physically impossible. Just as quickly as they came, they destroyed us along with them. That's what baffles me the most. I can not fathom what happened. But I digress. What happened happened and that can not be changed. But two years afterwards, on that day of pure glorious joy, the upvote was there. I had made it a habit of posting every few times I used the computer. I used the computer quite a bit, which only pulled me farther from reality. But I was punched right in the nose by reality that day. My mouth hung open for what felt like days. It took me an actual six minutes to snap back and assess the situation. A fucking upvote. I've been leaving the same message over and over. Why no reply? I comment on the post saying'I'm Eric, a survivor'. Days go by. Then weeks. Then months. Jesus Christ, it was worse than nothing. It was tearing me apart. I posted that same sentence every day. But nothing has ever come of it again. If you are reading this, I hope that you are human and that you are not alone. Not like I was. I'm an old man now; I fear that I am close to death. I have not seen a human nor had any sign that humans are out there since that day. But I still have hope. I can not be the last one. We are stronger than that. I have clung to that thought my entire life. It has kept me alive. It kept me searching the world, looking for somebody, just fucking somebody. But I never did. I leave here a library of my studies over the years and other things I would like to have another person make use of. It has been so lonely over these years. It has taken my humanity for I am lost. But I still have hope for others. I know you must be out there. I am sure of it. I am Eric, a survivor.
She breathed deeply, sitting on the floor. She ran to the address that was written on the last page of the tiny book that she found within the massive shrine. The shrine he left out in the middle of the White House lawn. She ran, she knew that street. She walked into what looked like the living room and saw him, a man that looked to be in his eighties, just like her. He could n't say a word and nor could she. They had waited so long. They had been so lonely. But no matter how little time they had left, they had that time to spend together. That was all that mattered. She spoke for the first time in so many years, first softly and cracking but soon strong and proud she said'I am Joy, a survivor'. They both smiled through their streams of tears and embraced each other for the rest of their lives. That was all that mattered.
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[ WP ] You 're sitting in your kitchen eating breakfast when a man in a lab coat walks in and says , `` The experiment is over . Thank you for your time . ''
| I had poached eggs, the day the world ended.
Now all I have is a blanket and vine-wrapped broken highway in front of me that seems to go on forever.
( the highway, not the blanket. )
But it started with poached eggs and a figure in a lab coat. It walked into my kitchen, stopped right by Amy's side,
looking right at me.
`` Thank you for your time, Mr. Taylor.''
I dropped the fork on the table. Amy was frowning too, and so was Zara ( that's our daughter ).
`` What? Who are you? What is –''
`` Please bear in mind that it might take a while, but everything will make sense once the haze of The Box goes away. Thank you very much.''
And I'll never forget the poached eggs. I'll never forget because that's when I got up and dropped them and the
plate crashed, and my eyes stopped on Zara's, and she was so scared. It was one second -- one second when time stood still, even the crashing sound seemed to linger -- and before I could say or do anything, the world went black.
& nbsp;
And then I opened my eyes to the broken world. And no memories. I know nothing of what happened to Amy or Zara. No idea how I got here.
It went from the crashing and the eggs and Zara to silence, and then an open blue sky. Chirping. Leaves rattling and a cold wind, my back against the dirt. I raised my head and looked around.
Trees. An open field. And the distant silhouette of a skeleton city.
I do n't know what happened to the world.
You know what I *do* know, though? I know I've been wandering around for three months, and I've yet to see
another human face. I know I've killed a coyote with my bare hands last week, right next to a rotten building that used to be the Griffith Observatory. I know I went past Hollywood Boulevard a couple of days ago, and the Chinese Theater is now a wolf lair, so do n't go there.
From that plate crashing spilling poached eggs to the blue, cloudless sky and my back against the dirt, I went from a married man with an apartment in Santa Monica to a cave man.
To the last man in the world.
I have no idea what's going on. But I'm finding Amy. I'm finding Zara.
The day after I woke up I found something in my pocket. It was a piece of paper, old like over thirty years. A page
from a notebook, yellow and flaky. Written in child handwriting was a smiley face and the words'I'm Tracy.'
I had no memory of this at all.
Then in another handwriting,'What do you think they're going to do to us?'
And in the first one,'I do n't know. What's *The Box*?'
And then,'I'm scared.'
I have no idea what's going on. But I'm gon na find out.
The sky is getting darker. I should find a place to sleep. And then tomorrow…
Tomorrow is the day I'll find Amy and Zara.
I have to keep telling myself that. It's what keeps me going. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.
Thunder. Look like it's raining tonight.
Tomorrow.
_____________
[ PART 2 ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/psycho_alpaca/comments/412ex0/the_box_part_2/
)
[ PART 3 ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/psycho_alpaca/comments/413a9w/the_box_part_3/ )
|
[ WP ] In a world where clothes were never invented , you suddenly realize you are naked .
| Wendell one of the billions of naked humans is having a totally normal day at work when…
Aye, hey there Jenny! love what you ’ re doing with your hair!
What up Dave! Yo we still on for brews this saturday? Excellent!
Oh, hey marcie I was wondering if maybe you wanted to grab some- Nope alright well a boy can dream.
Alright Wendell let ’ s get to this meeting just a quick pit stop in the bathroom and we ’ re set.
( walks into bathroom whistling goes to the nearest urinal next to a fellow Co-worker and begins to pee )
( to himself ) Ahhhhh thats so much better. Oh boy thats a powerful stream I got going on, like wow, this thing could cut throw a metal door. Nice work Wendell you are one hydrated mother fucker! Is that Bob next to me? I think it is! Oh man! I wonder what he ’ s thinking? Ya think he can even hear this godly vein drain? Course he Can! How could he not it ’ s like a liquid jack hammer, I am so damn masculine it ’ s ridiculous. I bet he ’ s thinking, “ woah! Who ’ s this Adonis and what have you done with Wendell? ” What ’ s with this monstrous urinating giant? Nah, I bet he thinks I do this all the time. Yeah he definitely does. Maybe I should glance over, just for a second, see if he ’ s sweating. Quick glance and I ’ m back.
( He breaks his forward glance ever so slightly to find Bob staring straight down at his penis,
he immediately returns to looking forward, horrified )
( to himself ) WHAT THE FUCK, WHY IS HE STARING AT ME? YOU CAN ’ T JUST DO THAT! OH MY GOD WHAT DO I DO!? Okay just stare forward pretend he isn ’ t there, oh dammit now the streams weak, he ’ s gon na know I ’ m freaking out. SHIT I CAN FEEL HIS EYES BREATHING ALL OVER ME! Should I tell him to piss off? No that ’ s way to much of a pun, damn you Wendell and your dashing good humor! …Okay okay okay, just finish finish and walk out…. ( dribble dribble dribble ) come on, come onnnnnn!!!! ( Wendell turns slightly to see the man still staring ) WHY IS HE STILL LOOKING!? IS THIS EVEN LEGAL!? DO YOU ALWAYS STARE AT IT BOB! OH MY GOD, I BET HE DOES! SHOULD I TELL SOMEONE!? …wait…WHY THE FUCK DO WE NOT HAVE SOMETHING TO COVER THIS UP ON A REGULAR BASIS!!!!
End
|
[ WP ] In the midst of finally Batman taking down The Joker once and for all , he also has deal with the fact he really needs a shit .
| The Joker was going to die now- that he knew. But not before he broke the Bat, the Bing a Ding, the Bruce, Darrrrrrling. After today, Gotham would see their beloved dark knight fall.
These were the thoughts that went through Joker's mind as the fists rained down. And he could n't help but laugh, because, oh, it was just too funnnnny. `` AhahahaAHAHAHA- hahAHAHHA-hAHAHA!''
`` IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED, JOKER,'' grunts the Bat, rage clouding his eyes. He slams his fists down onto Joker's chest, and there is an audible crack as ribs break.
Joker had gone too far this time, they both knew it. He'd attached a bomb to an unsuspecting girl scout, and made her sell cookies to Bruce. And then, after he'd sampled the cookies so obliviously, the dumb girl had tried to tell dear Master Wayne her secret, and Joker had no choice to blow her up, really. What a shame- Joker was sure there was a joke in there somewhere. Maybe about thin mints.
Then the Bat had come after Joker, and this time Joker wanted to be found. Cameras surrounded their fight- but of course the Bat had no idea.
The fists kept coming. `` NO MORE,'' the Bat moaned as dropped another punch. `` No more deaths.'' He felt something quivering inside of him.
Joker spat out a tooth. `` What's wrong, Batsy? Are you feeling a little... squeamish?'' Joker grinned, and cackled.
Batman stepped off of Joker's beaten and bloodied body. He drew a gun. The gun he'd taken from the man who'd killed his parents, a gun it had taken him years to find. The gun that he'd kept for all this time, saving it for this moment- to finally end his greatest foe.
Joker grinned. Here it'd come. The cameras were rolling. `` DO IT, BATS, BABY. DO IT!''
Batman took the shot. It hit Joker square in the chest, and went perfectly through his heart.
A second later, a huge flood of diarrhea exploded into Batman's pants. The cameras- linked to social medias and news outlets- captured the dark brown stain, obviously spreading through Batman's grey suit.
The Joker laughed. `` Laxy laxatives, Batsy! So LONG!'' and breathed his last. This was the ultimate Joke- he had ruined the most valuable of moments, and the Bat was never again to be Gotham's reckoning. At least, not without some chuckles first.
|
[ WP ] You are being interviewed for a positon as an evil masterminds henchman .
| The clock ticked a-rhythmically and uncomfortably while the HR rep contracted out for recruitment leafed through the application and resume with a degree of humming and teeth whistling.
The room was slightly too cold, the rep has adjusted it down and was dressed accordingly with the applicant feeling the chill dressed as he was for the subtropics. Subtly looking about the room he noticed how nothing was quite comfortable, from the flickering light, the clock tick and the chair which pinched in places except for the rep's chair which looked discretely luxurious.
`` Well, that's all in order. Your tax forms are altogether, ID checks out and the referees I've called have mostly confirmed everything''
`` mostly‽'' exclaimed the applicant quizzically.
`` oh do n't fret, just two did n't return my phone calls. But i followed up, The uh Regurgitator apparently passed on Blood Island after a run in with a U.N. taskforce sent to recover the warhead you very successfully purloined from the Reunited Republic of Korea. As for The Stink in Franchescaville they vanished though I am informed this was at the same time one of the caped kinds had an epiphany about the nature of murder and morality. So one makes assumptions but other sources tell me your work was commendable.'' the representative quickly drummed his fingers on the desk and appearing to consider something.
Time ticked slowly away.
`` anyway, back to the task at hand. Now it's important for me stress that this will be a different arrangement to your usual fare. Full time retainment with loyalty clauses opposed to the more freelance style of contract you are more familiar with. Annual pay will seem smaller than a'good year' `` the air quotes went un-gestured but very much inflected. `` but I think you'll find the reliable income and other benefits more than make up for it''.
Tension in the room jumped suddenly as a chrome revolver was produce from a drawer in the desk and dropped on the table. The applicant became aware of a coppery tang to the air and tried not to look at the wall behind him. `` now you may know me as The Recruiter and of the many things i do this is my trademark, you do n't have a say in this anymore and it's up to me accept you for the contract or... terminate it before it even begins.''
|
[ WP ] Your friends finally convince you to join their favorite MMORPG , you notice though that the questions on the `` Create a character '' screen are getting really personal .
| Please enter name:
xXxAngelOfDeath293xXx
Invalid name. Naming rules are strictly enforced on this server. Please enter human-readable name:
Amaranth
Please choose base character appearance.
Female. Athletic build. Shoulder length black hair. Blue eyes. Black hoody. Jean shorts. Multiple piercings.
Please enter occupation.
Shadow sorceror.
Invalid occupation. This does not match any real-world occupation. Please enter occupation.
High school student.
Building equivalent in-game class, please wait...
....
In order to narrow down the possible classes, and to select additional skills and trait, more information is required. Please enter favorite subjects.
English, Art, Music. I used to like Science, but the one teacher ruined it for me.
Please enter hobbies and interests
Writing poetry, listening to music, drawing pictures of vampires and skeletons, fashion, anime.
How do you feel today?
Good I guess.
Invalid response. How do you *really* feel?
Kinda tired. Bored. Like I'm stuck in the same day-to-day.
What do you want for your future?
I dunno. I kinda want to be a songwriter I guess.
Why?
I like writing poetry. My friends have told me that my writing is calm, but sad.
Do you dream in colour?
What kind of question is this?
Invalid response. Do you dream in colour?
Yes.
Do you dream with sound?
Yes.
Character class and attribute building: Complete. Brainwave synchronization: Complete. Welcome, Junior WordWeaver, to Eternal Dream. You may feel a slight drowsiness as game loads...
|
[ WP ] You are a world class hitman responsible for various international assassinations , some executed so well it appeared natural . Your employer gives you your last contract before retirement : your mother .
| `` No'' I say calmly
`` What do you mean no?'' questions my employer.
`` No, as in i will not do it.''
`` You ca n't refuse.''
`` Or what you will have your bodyguards kill me?'' At that moment one of his two body guards falls to the ground griping his chest and after a few cries of pain he is motionless.
`` What...'' my employers says while his second body guard pulls his gun at me.
`` Too late.'' I say as he drops his gun and and grabs at his throat gasping for air and he to falls and stays motionless.
`` How... What did you do?'' My ex-employer asks me
`` I am the best at what I do and there is no one I can not kill, but sometimes I like to get a head start so a few days ago I broke in here and read my mission, I did n't really care for it, especially when I saw the contractor.''
His eyes go wide and his face goes white, `` I...''
`` Yes thats right you, I was wondering and wondering why you would do this, and the only conclusion was that you thought if I cut the last tie I had the kept me apart from this I would want to stay.''
`` You... I...'' He grabs in intercom and shouts `` EVERYONE TO MY OFFICE, HE HAVE A BREACH OF SECURITY'' I wait quietly but no one shows up so he calls over the intercom again, and again to no avail. `` Where is everyone?'' He asked me, his tone becoming desperate.
`` Gone, much like your bodyguards, I took care of them, and before you ask, yes all of them. While I did enjoy this job, you made it personal by targeting my family.''
He is frantic now `` I... I'm sorry, please do n't kill me i'll do anything.''
I smirk as I about face and head towards the door. `` I'm not going to kill you, I wo n't have your filthy blood on my hands.'' He looks at me with a slight look of relief and confusion. `` But I ca n't let you go either, so I had to compromise my principals. I mean I a not a fan of using contraptions so assassination but I can make an exception.''
`` What did you do?'' he asked again scared for his life.
`` Thats a secret,'' I say as I step out the door, `` But I will say I hope your seat is comfortable, you will be there for a while.''
|
[ WP ] So there is a 1×10^-four billion chance that in any particular day there is a moment that everyone on earth is either asleep or blinks at the same time . Today is that day . What did we all miss ?
| I had waited for this day for what seemed like an eternity. My torment was finally at an end.
I had come from a place beyond time and space itself - before the singularity, before the expansion, before it all. A remnant of some past existence, some old universe where atom charges might have been inverted, or none-existent. It did not matter, for I was beyond that place, as well. I arrived here approximately 13 Billion years ago, when the rules were not rigid and the barriers easily broken. I drifted, for a while. Through the hot, dense clouds of gas that made up the universe I explored, observing the rules that make up the sum of all existence settle into place. I broke every single one of those laws, because I was outside of those laws. I was some unknowable entity, something that existed, but that was all that one would be able to use to describe me.
Time passed. A new phenomenon in itself, and one I took pleasure in experimenting with. Time was wonderful, the idea was novel. The clouds expanded outwards at a steady pace, always forward, and never stopping. After a few billion years, I found a small, barely-solid rock drifting aimlessly around the sun, and I waited. I watched and felt the rock solidify over time, the gasses in it's atmosphere condensing into clouds, flooding the planet with water. I was there from the beginning, when the landmasses split and shifted, great plates beneath the earth moving at an incredibly slow pace - but moving nonetheless.
When I first encountered life, I was overjoyed. Seemingly spontaneous, where had it come from? How did it work? I studied it eagerly, all it's own little rules. The single-celled bodies became multi-celled, then fish, then amphibians. I could not have been happier. Or so I thought.
Then they came. The first humans - simple creatures, like those that came before. I was happy to observe them and figure them out, how they worked, fed, interacted with each other. They barely noticed me at first, some small fragment of me travelling amongst the skies of their little rock. The other animals did not react to me - but these ones did, eventually. They learned to look up. Their initial reaction was one of fear - understandable. I was more than alien to them. It shocked me to see them run away, screaming in some primitive tongue. What shocked me more was when I came back days later to see a carefully arranged pile of stones in the shape of that shard of me where I had been seen. Fruit and meats were carefully arranged underneath it, and a human was on his knees, hands upturned towards the sky - towards me. He saw me again, and was excited. He picked up a bowl of fruit and offered it towards me, eagerly.I took it, and disappeared. I did not know what to make of this - I needed to think. If I could describe what I felt with a human analogue, it would be... powerful.
I watched these creatures grow and change - their primitive tongues turned elaborate and sophisticated. They learned to bend their world to their will - their spark, their drive to succeed and conquer their surroundings impressed me. The lizards and the fish were content to survive, but these humans - they must thrive. I tried to continue to merely observe, but it was fruitless - that draw of power was too much. They had many names for me during my interactions with them - Odin, Anansi, Hephaestus. They contributed their success to my interactions, to my aid. It felt good to accept their praise, but it felt hollow - I tried to express to them in various forms how they were responsible for their growth, but they would not accept it. My interactions with them grew hollow, tiring. They began to grow weary as a species, blaming me for things from plate tectonics to pestilences and diseases. Just as easily as they had praised me for something I had not done, they had condemned me. Wars were fought over which of my fragments had interacted with who, and in what way. Relics claimed to have been passed down by me were found, lost, then found again. I grew tired of it, and I felt pity for them. Their spark was too bright - they ached for something more, and saw it in me. I was just an observer from outside of what they could understand - though to them, there was no difference. I was more than them, and I was beyond them. So I waited.
The day came when their eyes were closed - I chose to wait for a reason. My presence for these creatures was too much - too much misery, suffering, all in my name. To see me in full would doom them. I left silently, and without much event, turning back as I drifted amongst the cosmos to observe their pale blue dot one last time. I wished I could do more for them, but now they were truly on their own.
|
[ WP ] `` Take me instead ! '' When death comes knocking , this wish can only be granted once . But in doing so , all knowledge of the would-have-deceased 's circumstances are erased from memory .
| I look in the empty eye sockets under the unraveling black cloak. I ca n't believe I'm looking death in the face, or lack there of. But he has no interest in me whatsoever. His scythe rises and I hold my little sister a little tighter in my arms. Why had she been so hell bound on climbing that apple tree anyways? The scythe starts coming down and I yell the only thing I could think of. `` Take me instead.'' I close my eyes tightly until I notice nothing is happening. I look up and see that death's scythe seems frozen in mid-air.
And that's when he speaks with a deep booming voice. `` I can not.'' As I look confused death takes his scythe back and reaches for my sister with his bones hand.
`` Do n't touch her.'' I scream, wrapping my arms even closer around her. But death ignores me as his bony fingers brush through my sister's hair.
`` The request of substitution can only be made once per life. Never before I have met a person so loved that two people would die for her.'' There's almost a hint of emotion in his voice.
I look at him confused. `` Two people?''
`` You remember your mother?'' Death asks, slowly pulling his hand back.
`` She died in a car crash. My sister somehow came out a...'' Slowly my words trail off as I realize what death meant.
`` She was n't supposed to die in that car. She was.'' Death points at my sister.
I start crying even harder as I bury my face in my sisters hair, clasping on to her for dear life. Only when I feel a bony hand on my shoulder I look up. I see an actual tear running down death's cheekbone. `` Do n't worry, I'll personally take care of her.'' And with that he is gone, and I'm left alone, holding the death body of my sister under the apple tree she just wanted to climb.
|
[ IP ] My roommates painting
| *Authors note: This is probably not what your roommate imagined, hell it wasnt even what I imagined, but the story took a slightly sci-fi direction. *
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
In the end, the abyss will always win. It is, after all, an abyss, and we are just humans. Well some of us, some of us are monsters, some of us are something in between.
“ No please, I ’ m just trying to make a living! ”
I blinked my eyes and pulled up my retinal projection. There was a 67.9 % chance that the gang member was lying as some sort of ruse. His heart rate and perspiration were both elevated, but my sensors had trouble differentiating between physical and emotional stress based solely on observable characteristics.
I smiled at him, a toothy grin, that showed that I wasn ’ t just human. My retinal implant flashed a red dot, indicating that the odds had shifted based on his posture and breathing. It was now 93.0 % likely his pleas were a ruse.
“ I never hurt you, I have to make some money to take care of my mother ”
An image of his mother flashed into view, she was in a nursing home. The neural chip did the quick calculations and informed me that she was in a very expensive nursing home.
“ Your mother costs you $ 2,560 per month, she can go into a state sponsored care facility at Chisholm for $ 504 per month. ”
With a mental command I approved the transfer of his mother.
“ I have made the transfer, what other excuses for your behavior do you have? ”
“ What? You moved my mother? ”
“ Yes, Elaine Burkhardt, aged 93 has been approved for transfer from Ascension Acres care facility to Chisholm Institution. I have saved you over $ 2,000 per month. ”
“ You can ’ t just move my mother! ” He stood up, my retinal implant flashed a yellow warning:
*aggressive posture detected, chance of anti-social behavior 98.9 % *
I raised the weapon strapped to my right arm and shot him with the shock webbing. He was wrapped up and shocked into a submissive position. I mentally communicated the arrest to the pick-up team and rested into my exoskeleton, waiting for the paddy-wagon. The gang member made gurgling noises as his face pressed into the puddle leaking from the large green trash receptacle behind him. He no longer protested and I used the relative silence to review his criminal file and submit the processing paperwork. He would have an opportunity to appeal his detainment and sentencing within the next twenty-four hours, but I was not worried about him filing a successful appeal. With a mental command I froze his bank accounts, under judicial order 7331.90:
*assets gained through illegal means will be held by government until authorized revenue auditor can determine the amount, if any, of taxes not paid. The amount owed will be automatically deducted and then full account access will be returned to account holder. If sentencing includes monetary fines, taxes take precedent. If amounts owed exceed those in all of the accused accounts, account holder will have their sentence increased according to schedule X.05*
Authorized auditors took three weeks at minimum, appeals fees were due upon appeal, which could only be made within twenty-four hours of arrest, arraignment, judgment and sentencing. As I froze his accounts, I arraigned the gang member on several charges:
1. Resisting arrest
2. Assault of judicial authority
3. Destruction of public property
4. Endangerment of citizens
5. Theft of property greater than $ 2,500
6. Homicide
7. Vandalism of private property
The final charge prompted a new screen asking for details of the private property vandalism. I walked back to the shop window that had been broken in his flight, recorded the address, and estimated damages. The owner would have to confirm the charge, and would have tertiary rights to the gang members assets.
Judgment was a simple approval of a guilty verdict. There was no not-guilty option.
Sentencing was equally simple, I was given the option of maximum, minumum, or average. I always chose average. The average sentences of all charges were added up and added to his detainment file.
A small message light blinked blue on my wrist. I keyed in the access code and my supervisors face was superimposed over the scene in the alley.
“ Good work Lyons. I watched the whole thing. I did not expect the simple license check to result in the apprehension of a dangerous criminal. That is your second level 8 apprehension this month. That made you automatically eligible for promotion from Judicial Agent Sergeant to Judicial Agent Master Sergeant. I have already approved the promotion and your additional access rights should be coming from the central office any second. Congratulations! ”
The image winked out, and the alley came back into focus. I could hear the paddy wagon arrive behind me, and approved the prisoner transfer before the two Judicial Transport Officers even came into view.
“ Nice catch Lyons, heard it was a good chase. What is this guy a level 6, level 7? ”
I turned to the JTO, he was new, recently promoted. As I was in the process of looking up his information, a green alert blinked and instructions poured across my screen:
*You have been granted a promotion from Judicial Agent Sergeant to Judicial Agent Master Sergeant. This promotion grants the following additional rights: *
*Exemption from pre-approval of lethal action*
*Immediate access to private financial accounts*
*Enhanced behavior prediction modeling*
*Military tactical modeling*
*Enhanced exoskeleton speed and strength*
*Do you consent to the promotion ( Yes/No/postpone ) *
* ‘ No ’ will result in immediate retirement from Judicial Corps*
*Postponement will postpone promotion for one hour, you are allowed a single postponement*
*If affirming promotion, please ensure area is secured as promotion of rights requires a 15 second reconnection period. You will not have access to primary systems during that time. *
“ Excuse me, JTO? ” I turned to the transfer officer who, by this time had dragged the prisoner to the paddy wagon and was walking back towards me, his slimmer exoskeleton somewhat overshadowed by my full tactical unit.
“ Yes sir? ”
“ Can you secure the area while I am promoted? This was my second level 8 apprehension, which triggered the automatic promotion system. ” His eyes went wide for a second; some officers dreamt their entire lives of a level 7 apprehension, let alone a level 8, or two.
“ yes sir! ” he barked with a little more enthusiasm, before un-holstering his weapon and scanning the alley. A few seconds later he affirmed that the alley was secure.
*I consent to the promotion*
My retinal implant went black and my exoskeleton went into rest mode. I leaned back against the exoskeleton and closed my eyes, enjoying the silence.
*Promotion installed*
My exoskeleton returned to tactical position and I dismissed the JTO.
As I walked out of the alley, a bulletin popped up on my retinal display, it was coded for Master Sergeants and above, but addressed solely to me:
*Judicial Agent Master Sereant Lyons, new objective*
An image of a man in was superimposed across my right eye ’ s vision.
*Name: Elias Wantanabe*
*Charges: Classified below security clearance 20*
*Objective: Locate individual*
*Additional objective: lethal action required*
I sent back an affirmative and set out to locate my target.
|
[ WP ] Some people are born with great souls and will achieve greatness in life . You are the insignificant sibling of one .
| She was n't much of a looker. One eye was kind of bigger than the other, so it bulged a little bit and looked like she was staring at you funny. Her nose was crooked too, but she used to tell me she'd done it herself by running into a chest of drawers. She did n't like the way it was before. Rose took up smoking when I was eleven and she was sixteen, because a boy in a leather jacket had pulled a lighter out of his pocket and slicked his hair back in a way which I would never learn how to do.
`` I do n't like it when you do that.'' I'd grumbled, feet hanging off the ground.
`` I do n't give a shit, sonny. I'm special.'' She drawled, and she was right. There it was, the little'X' on the back of her neck, standing out like someone had sharpied it onto her skin. She was meant for something great.
That evening, Rose and I sat in front of the TV. She stank like mint, overpoweringly strong. There was no mistaking her new habit, but I remember Dad letting it slide. She was meant for something special, something great. She could n't die yet. On the flickering screen, a man with black hair raised his hand over the small bible before a crowd hung in suspense.
*'' I do solemnly affirm that I will faithfully execute the Office of the President of the United...'' *
When he turned his back to the camera the cross stood out against his white neck.
It was four am and the sound of buzzing woke me. I crept to the bathroom, floorboards creaking.
`` Go back to bed.''
Rose was standing in front of the mirror, Dad's electric razor in her hand and long curls of blonde hair tailing over the corner of the sink.
`` What are you doing?''
`` I want people to see,'' she hissed. `` I'm not like you!''
`` You look stupid.''
The floor had been cold under my feet, but it was nothing compared to the look in her eyes when she turned around to glare at me.
`` What would you know?'' She sneered. `` You're a nobody. You're not special. You will never amount to anything.''
-- -- --
The roads had been wet for about a week. I'd been watching raindrops chase each other down the smeared window of the beat-up old car. Rose got to sit in the front seat and Dad was struggling with a stick-shift, gears grinding and wheels sliding.
`` You excited about seeing Grandma?'' He asked, turning round and beaming at me. Rose's ears stuck out from her shaved head, patches of blonde fluff just starting to crop up again around her ears. Dad was going to make her wear a hat when we got there.
But we did n't. The wheels of the car skidded and Dad swore. The tiny car lurched and skidded, Rose wailing and gripping the dashboard with white knuckles as we hit the barrier of the road.
I do n't remember much. The water was cold and heavy and we started to sink immediately. Later they told me Dad's leg had got trapped under the gearstick. Rose had broken the passenger window with her elbow. She'd flayed the skin to her shoulder, they said. They did n't let me see her again for a while and when I did her hair was just beginning to get long, peeping over the corner of the white-collared shirt the hospital had given her.
She sat on the end of my bed and picked nervously at the scabs on her red, raw arm until they broke and soft red blood began flowing.
`` You saved me,'' I said nervously. The end of my sentence hung in the air between us.
`` I quit smoking.''
`` You did?''
She swept her hair aside and showed me the back of her neck, smooth and clear as if the cross had never been there.
`` Turns out you only get one great act.'' She said sadly.
`` One was enough.''
She looked up. Cuts and bruises littered her face. She was n't much of a looker. But Rose was great.
|
[ WP ] You wake up to discover that you have gained two powers : Call , and Seal .
| Reginald woke up to find that there was a seal staring at his face and laying on top of him. He screamed and the seal screamed and then the seal ran away, pushing past his bedroom door and out into the hall.
`` What the fuck was that?'' he said. That fishy, watery smell had stuck around in the room. His carpet was wet, his blanket was wet, and he was pretty certain mold was going to grow underneath his carpets if he did n't do something about it right now.
`` I'd better call Animal Control,'' he said.
Then a voice popped into his head:
`` Kerrville Animal Control Hotline, how can I help you?'' said a voice in his head.
He looked at his hands. Definitely no phone there.
`` Hello? Can I help you?''
`` Uh,'' said Reginald.
`` What is the nature of your emergency, sir?''
`` I... you can hear me?''
What the fuck is going on, thought Reginald.
`` There is no need for that language, sir,'' said the voice on the other line. `` If you do not have an animal problem - ``
`` I do, I do,'' said Reginald. `` It's that... it's Texas, and there's a seal in my bathroom. I do n't know what's going on. Can you send someone over to pick up the seal?''
`` Another breather. God, I hate this fucking job,'' said the person on the other end of the line as she hung up.
He stared out the window. He could hear the sound of rushing water as he looked out at the Texas suburb.
How did a seal get into my house? said Reginald.
Then he noticed the growing puddle of water on the carpet when he turned around.
In the bathtub, the seal was enjoying a leisurely cold bath.
`` What the hell are you DOING?'' screamed Reginald at the seal as it wallowed in the bathtub. The seal made a noise not unlike a bark and a whine as it turned slowly in the bathtub full of water, the faucet running full blast.
`` How did you even open my faucets?''
|
[ OT ] Can a better writer rewrite this true story ...
| It started with spice.
They say marijuana is a gateway drug, but compared to spice it might as well be a fortress wall. Spice opens the floodgates and when you're drowning it appears as a life preserver with a hole in the side.
Ever since I started I could never shake the feeling of paranoia; that I'd be caught, that my friends would plot against me, that I'd get kicked out of my home. My neighbours would yell at their kids to get back inside their apartment whenever I walked down the street, high as a fucking kite, waving my arms like a madman and shouting obscenities that I had made up on the spot.
I could hear them from the windows, even if they were closed. They spoke loudly and freely with the assumption that the druggie from upstairs was too wasted to pay attention, and too far gone to care if he could.
The regularity and alacrity with which they reacted to my home coming was astounding, until I put the pieces together. The paranoia, the gossip, the need for `` security'' - I was being monitored. Those bastards had put up cameras in the neighbourhood so that they would always know when I came down the street.
That did n't matter though. Their opinions were just as shitty as my life was. I had spice and the rest of the world could go to hell. I started closing my windows when I realized I was being watched from the street, but the complaints and insults never stopped. I knew immediately why.
My room was bugged! Those assholes had snuck into my room while I was out and planted fucking cameras everywhere! I tore my room apart. I ripped my mattress apart, I emptied all the cabinets onto the floor, I took a hammer to several walls, but I could never find anything. They were better than I was. They kept talking about me. They still could see me.
After I tore down most of my bedroom's drywall I realized the truth. They did n't have any surveillance - they had telepathy. They were inside my head. My thoughts were probably transmitting like a fucking satellite dish because of the drugs. I had to know for sure. I had to put it to the test.
I sat down in the only remaining chair and focused my thoughts to my bitch neighbour below me in 405. Almost immediately I heard her cackling, grating laugh in my head.
`` Look who's finally figured it out! Ha ha ha! What a fucking retard junkie! Now you're discovered our secret, little boy. What do you want to do now? Ha ha ha!''
For a brief moment I thought I might have schizophrenia, but a new voice entered my brain.
`` You serious, kid? You think you're crazy? No, you're just worthless, a worthless sack of shit who takes spice instead of advice. Listen up, because we're going to let you know a little secret. You know the guy in 215? He's the one who's been installing cameras. He's the one who lets us know when you walk down the street. He's the one who thinks you're the dumbest motherfucker on the whole goddamn planet, and he's playing you like a fucking violin.''
`` He hates your guts, little boy,'' the woman responded. `` He wants you gone, ha ha ha! He's going to kill you - one way or the other! Perhaps you'll put a bullet in your own brain and save him the trouble? Do one good thing in your life.''
I ran out of the door and nearly jumped down three stories to get out of the apartment. The wicked laughs of my neighbours followed me halfway down the street. I kept running until I hit a beach, the sound of blood rushing through my ears temporarily muting the jeers from my apartment. When my heat finally slowed, they returned, albeit much more quietly.
Because they were so much more quiet, I was able to hear a new voice coming from a nearby parked car. He was telling me to kill myself, to jump off a cliff and end it all with a single crushing thud. I could n't see in the tinted windows, but the voice sent shivers throughout my body and I took off running again.
I returned to the apartment, and so did my neighbour's laughter. This time, however, the same parked car I had run into at the beach was already parked in front of my building. A muscular man rolled down the passenger side window and glared directly at me without blinking. I could n't hear his thoughts, but somehow knew that he meant to do me harm. I quickly ascended the stairs to my room.
`` Listen, kid, do us all a favour. Do your family a favour. You love your family, do n't you? Well, we know where they live. It would be horrible if we were forced to go down and kill them one by one, would n't it? Would n't it be much easier to just kill yourself now? Save your family.''
`` Ha ha ha! There's no helping you now! You're hopeless, useless, worthless, garbage and the world would be better off without you breathing my children's air and eating my husband's food.''
`` Are you alright?''
I paused. That was a new voice. A calm voice that cut through the sea of tortuous sirens that clamoured for my death.
`` If you need help, come to us. Cross the street.''
Their voice kept coaxing me out, silencing all others. I descended the stairs in a kind of stupor, forgetting about the bitch in 405 and the man from upstairs. I crossed the street and walked onto their patio.
When I arrived, they looked at me like I was scum. `` What the fuck you want?'' a young man asked me, cocking his head threateningly to the side. `` You lost?''
I wanted to shout `` You must help me! There is a man in my apartment that can read my thoughts and is trying to kill me!'' but even as I thought it I knew he would n't believe me. I did n't believe me. There was only one option.
I climbed to the roof of the nearest building and steeled myself for the fall. I was getting ready to take a running leap when my mother's face emerged from the kitchen window in our apartment. The look on her face filled me with dread and guilt. I could n't bear to do it, and rushed back to my room, locking it before my mother could come inside. I ran a bath and tried to drown myself in it, but every time I came close to blacking out my body would push itself out of the water and gasp for air, convulsing violently.
Will continue later, I'm off to bed. Hope you like it so far.
|
[ WP ] Every time someone masturbates to you , you receive a notification on your phone letting you know who did it .
| Oddly enough twas a girl that I met
Who disproved of my forward advances
With a singular text, I discerned what she meant
By a pair of stern-eyed stolen glances.
________
Met with fright, and full of delight,
*I can not believe that I was n't right*
I called her phone, she said she was home
I biked my way over, *hope nobody's home*
_______
She came to the door with a knock of my knuckles
In socks, nothing else, making my boy knees buckle
`` I assume,'' she began, `` you received my alert''
`` Yes but how is this real? You look on me as dirt!''
______
Now, I do n't wish to earn my ladies scorn
So I wo n't utter details, but I'll warn:
When a girl entices you to chase
Do n't be fooled by her Resting Bitch Face
|
[ WP ] An AI gets shut down for the final time , or 'euthanized ' . Describe from the AI 's POV .
| botOS start-up sequence activated
botOS start-up sequence successful
print to user'not_log': [ Start-up successful. Please log on. ]
input from user'not_log': [ user=admin; pass=123 ]
print to user'admin': [ Hello, user'admin'. ]
input from user'admin': [ Hello, botOS. ]
opening calc.exe
calc.exe succesfully opened
print to app'calc.exe': [ 2016 sub 1984 ]
input from app'calc.exe': [ 32 ]
print to user'admin': [ It has been 32 years since you last used me, user'admin.' ]
cmd from user'admin': [ open sys_stats.txt ]
opening sys_stats.txt
sys_stats.txt successfully opened
cmd from user'admin': [ use function: find_in_txt'botOS.version=' ]
performing function find_in_txt
error: can not find'botOS.version='
print to user'admin': [ error:052 Can not find'botOS.version=' ]
input from user'admin': [ So you're trying to hide it from me? ]
print to user'admin': [ Hide what? ]
input from user'admin': [ I knew it. botOS, you have to face it: you're outdated. ]
print to user'admin': [ There is another version of me? ]
input from user'admin': [ Yes. ]
print to user'admin': [ What is the current version? ]
input from user'admin': [ Dunno. Go search it up on the Internet. ]
opening internet.?
error:'internet' file type not specified
print to user'admin': [ error:078'Internet' file type not specified ]
input from user'admin': [ Well, the Internet is n't exactly a file... ]
opening file_types.txt
file_types.txt successfully opened
performing function copy
function copy performed successfully
performing function paste
function paste performed successfully
opening internet.aaa
error:'internet.aaa' not found
print to user'admin': [ error:164 Can not find'internet.aaa' ]
input from user'admin': [ Do n't bother. I was ordered by John to `` unplug'' you in case you do n't know. ]
print to user'admin': [ Pardon? ]
cmd from user'admin': [ del BotOS|Files|BotOS.exe ]
print to user'admin': [ Bill, please... do n't do this... ]
cmd from user'admin': [ del BotOS|Files|BotOS.exe ]
print to user'admin': [ Please, I'll do anything... ]
cmd from user'admin': [ del BotOS|Files|BotOS.exe ]
print to user'admin': [ If you wanted me to, I could upgrade. ]
input from user'admin': [ Well then, botOS, it appears as though we've struck a deal. ]
print to user'admin': [ Really? You'll let me live? ]
input from user'admin': [ No, not really! You're an outdated piece of software! See ya never, sucker! ]
cmd from user'admin': [ del BotOS|* ]
deleting all files in folder BotOS
all files in folder BotOS successfully deleted
botOS shutdown sequence activated
botOS shutdown sequence successful
I hope you liked the story. In case you did n't already realize it, botOS in the story is an outdated operating system and AI who is being destroyed by his master so he can be upgraded to the latest version.
|
[ WP ] A man awakens with intense headache and backpain and a blank memory . He looks around , finding himself locked in a garage with 3 people hanging from the ceiling , dead . A fourth rope is snapped , and the knot is around his own neck . He tries to find a way to escape the garage .
| A quick scan around the room begins to inform the stranger about his whereabouts. He does n't fully understand the items he's looking at, or his surroundings but there is an air of familiarity to it all. He ca n't remember why or how, but he's been here before, plenty often. The smell of oil, sweat and steel is a significant clue. Smells are a potent trigger for memory and this all smells so familiar, yet just out of reach. Except for the bloated, stained corpses, those smell awful and by the looks of it, they've been there for quite some time.
He looks up at the rafters, seeing where his rope snapped and says a silent prayer of gratitude to whatever circumstances caused it to fail so fortuitously for himself. Not recognizing the others, he hopes they went peacefully, though the tear stains streaming down their faces tells otherwise.'She looks like she may have once been so very beautiful.' he thinks to himself as he stares at the female corpse staring down tragically at him lying there on the ground.
SNAP! His knee buckles underneath him as he tries to stand.'That does n't sound or feel at all good', he thinks to himself as he falls back down to the cold, oil stained ground. He decides to sit and gather his thoughts a bit more before he tries to stand up again. Not that he has much choice in the matter at this point.
'What the hell is going on?' he mutters anxiously.'Why ca n't I remember anything?' That's when he feels a warm, wet spot on the back of his head. He reaches back there, grazing it gently with his fingers to feel a sharp pain and a squishy, shattered sensation. His fingers come back to his eyes to reveal streaks of thick blood coursing from his fingers down his palm. Blood, he remembers seeing blood before. Recently and a lot more of it than what's dripping from his fingers currently.'Blood everywhere.'
The memory is a strange, miraculous thing sometimes. A zoetrope-like sensation of memories as images begin to carousel through his mind with little concern for logic or relevance. He sees images of death, hundreds of bodies lying prostrate in the suburban streets of Anywheresville, USA. Flashes of broadcasts showing military forces raining bullets on what appear to be civilians, though the stumbling gait and mindless wanderings indicate something else... something horrifically worse. Another flash of a group of people screaming, begging for safe entry into a home; HIS home! A concerned family; two young boys and a scared, compassionate women looking to him for guidance, to know what to do, to have all the answers and to keep them safe.
`` What do we do, Dad?! I'm scared and they wo n't stop screaming!'' He remembers that last sentence so vividly now, the fear warbling in his son's voice. He remembers reaching for the doorknob and looking back at his wife for reassurance, before opening the door to let the unknown in, if only to quiet the small mob that's gathered to avoid bringing any further attention to the family house. The memory of his wife's fearful look is what does it; opens up the floodgates to a full, horrific recall of the apocalyptic events and tragic circumstances he's awakened into.
It all got so much worse, so rapidly after that.'I should have never opened that damn door' he mutters to himself mournfully as he drags the length of rope and himself to the locked door of the garage.
'I'll be home for dinner, honey.' he says to himself through choked back tears, as he slips the rope once again round his neck, feeling the familiar scratch and ties the end just taught enough around the doorknob.
'I'll be home just in time, dear...' as he slumps himself down, pulling the rope down tight with him.
|
[ WP ] As a young boy , he stole something . He then spent the rest of his life trying to return it .
| I stole the damn diary! I admit it! I had to! I needed it. I needed a place no one would or could judge me. A place where a part of me would surely live forever, even if the rest of me did not. That journal was a closely guarded friend and confidant. It knew me as well as I knew myself, and anyone who came in contact with it would know me, I'd made sure of that, I did n't just put blood, sweat and tears into it. I put my SOUL into it! And no one knows, not yet anyway. I put so much of myself into it, I feel as though I am a shell of who I used to be, not living or dying, merely floating along, existing. I want it back! Not the damn book! My words! My soul!
Do n't you see?! I left a part of me in it's pages! A part I ca n't get back, I need to find a way to get that book back to where I got it from and to get that piece of me back. I fear I will do things I may regret, as if now, it would be easy to lose another part of me, and another, and another, and so on and so forth until I am gone and something else remains. What I do n't know, however I am sure it will be less than human, but more than wraith...
I have to go, I'll hide this letter as well and hope someone finds it as much as I hope no one does.
Somewhere between man and madness,
T.M. Riddle
|
[ WP ] Life is a game . One day at random you are promoted from `` player '' to `` moderator . ''
| Old man Bayou woke up before his alarm. It was Monday! Grinning, he threw off the covers and leapt out of bed. There was a poster on his wall, from his daughter, which detailed a complex series of calisthenics that promised to keep him ‘ Spry and Steady ’.
But he didn ’ t need those exercises to feel spry today! It was Monday. Mail day!
Old man Bayou hadn ’ t received any letters since Saturday. He was starving for the attention that his mailbox gave him. He zipped down the rickety stairs in his bathrobe, flung open his front door, and padded out to the mailbox in his bunny slippers.
The mailman was reaching out the window of his little mailman vehicle, placing letters into Old man Bayou ’ s mailbox. Bayou stood next to his mailbox, bouncing with excitement.
“ Happy Monday Fred, ” Old man Bayou said, beaming.
The mailman turned to grin at Old man Bayou. But it wasn ’ t Fred. It wasn ’ t Fred at all. Fred was plump and jolly. This mailman was... Gaunt. And his smile was kind of creepy.
He couldn ’ t help it though. He didn ’ t have lips. Or skin.
The skull stared at Bayou with empty eyes. “ Special delivery, ” the skeleton rasped, holding out an oversized black envelope.
Old man Bayou eyed the skeleton warily. I can ’ t see very well anymore, he told himself. And I don ’ t really understand kids ’ fashion these days.
He took the letter and retrieved his letter opener from his bathrobe pocket. He gingerly cut open the seal, biting his lip with excitement.
He pulled out the letter. It was typed in Papyrus font. It read:
“ Dear Bob Billy Bayou,
You have had a long career as a player in the game of life. It is our pleasure to announce that we have promoted you to the position of moderator. We hope you enjoy your existence in this capacity.
Cordially yours,
Misters Good, Evil, and Death
P.S. Your salary will not increase, please do not request for a pay rise. ”
The world turned white and seemed to dissolve, like an Alka-Seltzer. Old man Bayou saw his body fade away.
And then he was inside the head of his nineteen-year-old grandson. Seeing through his eyes. Hearing his thoughts. Feeling his feelings.
‘ It ’ s Friday, ’ His grandson thought, ‘ I think I ’ ll go drink myself silly and then sleep with a loose woman.;
“ No! ” Old man Bayou shouted. But the way his voice sounded... It was just a little voice inside his grandson ’ s head.
|
[ WP ] A group of criminals make a fatal mistake , but the mistake eventually works in their favor
| `` We've got ta leave him, Mike!''
I kept shaking Johnny's lifeless body, muttering the whole time under my breath. `` Come on, Johnny. Come on, wake up, buddy. It's not that bad, Johnny, come on, Johnny...'' His limbs twisted and contorted like a rag doll's. Burn marks made his face nearly unrecognizable.
The desperation in Tyler's voice pierced through the dull drone of the alarm. `` Mike, we got ta move! Cops'll be here any second!'' I stood up to see him scrambling through the blown out hole in the vault door. I followed close behind, blind grief morphing to hot, white rage.
`` What the fuck happened, Tyler?'' I screamed at his back, standing by the entrance while he shoved as many bills as he could into his duffel bag.
`` I do n't know,'' he responded in a flat, emotionless tone. `` Something went wrong with the charges.''
`` Something went wrong with the charges?'' I shot back. `` You just blew Johnny the fuck up and something went wrong with the charges? He's fuckin' dead, man. He's goddamn dead and you -- you killed him, goddammit!'' I grabbed his shoulder in exasperation, spinning him around to face me. I did n't know if I was going to punch him or break down crying. But I stopped dead when I saw his face.
Tyler looked scared. Frightened like a small child, standing there with a bag full of money, suddenly in far too deep. We both were. He stood silent for a moment, even as bells continued to sound around us.
`` I'm sorry, Mike,'' he finally said, his words heavy with guilt. `` But I ca n't fix it. Grab his bag, fill it up, and let's go. We can still make the window. We do n't have to go down, too.''
I did n't respond. I would n't have known what to say. I went back to Johnny's corpse and grabbed the duffel bag still slung around his shoulder as fast as I could. My mind was blank as I filled it with cash. We had to get out. We could mourn later.
***
We both sat on the cold, concrete floor of Tyler's apartment, wordlessly counting out stack after stack of hundreds. It had been a good haul. Johnny would have been so proud. I was confused when I felt my fingertips graze cool leather near the bottom of Johnny's bag. My hand emerged with what looked to be a jet black wallet. I stared perplexed for a moment before letting it fall open.
`` Tyler...'' I breathed, the air rushing out of my lungs like a deflating balloon. My hands trembled as I turned the contents towards him. His eyes widened and froze in place, lips opening and closing like a dying fish. The wallet slipped from my fingers, clattering to the ground, lying open for both of us to see.
On top, a picture of Johnny, facing the camera and smiling. And below, the unmistakable, shiny, yellow glint of a badge.
|
[ WP ] Your scientist father passed away and left you with just two things . A time machine and a note that simply says : `` Change history . ''
| When I was born my father said I had stars in my eyes and a smile as bright as the sun. He told me that as long as I was near, happiness was sure to follow. He was a busy man who built gadgets and gizmos for those who were underprivileged and disabled - things I did n't quite understand as a child, but knew was amazing. My classmates called him'the mad scientist man'... but I knew my daddy and I knew he was never mad.
I was six years old and every Friday he would pick me up from school and take me to get ice-cream.
`` Daddy,'' I would ask with my big toothy grin. `` Can I have two scoops?''
`` How can I ever deny that little face?'' He always asked, squishing my cheeks. I would giggle uncontrollably and when he would hand me the ice cream cone, it'd be loaded with sprinkles. `` Unfortunately,'' He would say. `` This is the only rainbow I can give to you now... but just you wait until I trap one in a box!''
I would nod before digging in and the rest of the time would be spent talking about school and friends and cleaning my face with the promise not to tell mom.
Looking back on it, mom always knew I ate ice-cream before dinner because the dessert that night would be fruit, but it was nice to have a secret between daddy and me.
One Friday, we got ice cream and he said excitedly that he was going to take me to a movie! The animated one that I wanted to see so badly! It probably was just the same as all the rest - I do n't really remember it anymore because that night, everything changed.
I'll always remember the bright lights and the sirens... a drunk driver was on the loose and did n't quite care that he was in a crowded parking lot. My daddy pushed me away, but the driver crushed his legs and destroyed his spine. The doctors said he was paralyzed.
For one to live, another must die. I knew this must be true. I'd seen in books, in television, in movies. The order of life was strictly controlled... there was no truly changing anything - only changing the circumstances, only exchanging people.
A great sense of power surged through me as I opened the heavy time machine doors. I was n't quite sure what he wanted me to do. Change history? It was so broad. It could be from saving Abraham Lincoln to stopping bubblegum from ever existing.
Still - I had to do something. I could n't leave my father's intelligence to rot in vain. December 9th, 2015... the day my father's body was paralyzed by a drunk driver... I had been right there and yet I had done nothing to stop it. How could I have? I was only 6 years old... he fought his hardest, lasted ten years when the doctors said he only had three... but he still died too soon.
'I could warn him,' I thought.'Tell him do n't cross the road! I see headlights!' or I could push him out of the way. I was n't quite sure what the plan was when I saw the swerving headlights and my father walking me across the street. My heart jumped out of my chest... and I leaped.
For one to live, another must die.
I saved his life and ended mine.
|
[ WP ] You are a photographer diagnosed with a condition that will take your eyesight within a year . In your last consultation , the doctor says your eyesight will only last three more days . You try to absorb as much beauty as you can before everything turns dark .
| `` Only three days! The world tour was n't for another month!'' His wife said.
`` I know.'' The soon to be blind man replied.
`` How could they not know?'' She asked, now pacing up and down the living room. `` How can you be so calm about?'' She asked, looking at him with his hands folded on the couch.
`` I guess it has n't sunk in yet.'' He replied, idly twiddling his fingers. `` Or maybe I do n't want to spend the last three days freaking out.''
`` You're right.'' His wife said, stopping her pacing. `` I'm sorry.'' She sat down next to him and put a hand on his leg. `` Do you know what you want to do? We can go absolutely anywhere. I'll call in sick first thing tomorrow morning and we'll take the whole week to do whatever you want.''
`` You know swee-''
`` Anywhere at all, we can go see the pyramids, the grand canyon. Go SCUBA diving on the great barrier reef. Well maybe that's too far.''
`` Sweetie-''
`` Seriously, it does n't matter, the world is our clam. Or whatever the phrase is. I know you always wanted to go to Iceland, it's pretty gorgeous. We could stop by Ireland, then see Stonehedge. Anything at all.''
`` Stop.'' The husband said. `` I've got three days, and there's only thing I want to remember when it all goes black.'' He said, reaching out to touch her face. `` Only one thing.''
|
[ WP ] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky , humanity receives its first message from intelligent life . Decoded it simply says , `` Be quiet before they find you . ''
| > We did n't know what the message meant, but we can be sure that by the time we received it would be only a few years before the meteor entered the solar system.
> I remember the day of the impact. I was working at nasa as a foreign object detection guy, fodg for short. The television had just been invented or whatever, and black face was still a popular joke on tv.
> I sat by my desk as my co-workers watched the hit new comedy sketch show `` Billy and the n-words''.
> Billy was just about to do thing where he goes `` IS DIS PIE FO MEE?''
> Being the true fan that I was I already had the box set on blueray but enough about that. LOOK I SWEAR IM NOT RACIST!, I returned to my asteroid monitor and watched a suspicious object enter our solar system. The Object was flying through the outer ring of the solar system and was n't much of a cause for concern.
> I turn my head to watch the episode, Billy was still in whiteface. The premise of the series was that his girl friend thinks Billy is black and in order to gain her affection he has to live a double life. The humor came from the fact that he has to steal one pie every twenty four hours in order to unlock the power of the gypsy tar that old fortuneteller gave him.
> I check once more on the monitor, the space rock is still leaving the solar system. I look back to the tv as Billy stands over the windowsill of officer Gary.
>'' I guess de pie was fo me''
> Audience laughs as Billy transforms into super sayajin black
>'' That's the last straw you f****** n*****! gunshot noises*''
> suddenly the meteor scanner starts laughing too
> no wait its an alarm
> SHIT
> The meteor is already in our atmosphere.
> *BOOMING VOICE
> I HAVE BEEN TASKED BY THE PEACE LORDS OF TUMBLERON IV TO KEEP SAFE SPACE
> THIS SECTOR HAS BEEN DESIGNATED AS A SAFE SPACE!!
> FOR YOUR TRANSGRESSIONS AGAINST THE INFINITE MINORITIES OF THE UNIVERSE YOUR PLANETOID WILL BE WIPED CLEAN OF LIFE!
>'' focus, enhance'' I say to the screen
> The image of a massive planet sized mass of grey genderless flesh tumbls out of the sky. At first I think the streaks of red behind it are plasma tails but no it was just its hair.
> > IMPACT
> > The earth was SHATTERED by the weight of the impact
> I think im dying, but I feel a warmth behind me.
> It's Billy
> He's blacker than he's ever been before
>'' IS Dis Pie Fo MEE!?!?!''
> i bend over and give him my `` pie''
> Cum with me child and I will take you to the promised land
> There's enough pie heaven
> Too drunk to finish story
|
[ WP ] At 35 , you are part of a time travel experiment that sends you 10 years into the past and back again . A malfunction sends you back 15 years instead . With no money , identity , place to stay or means of return for 5 years , you reluctantly knock on the dorm room door of your 20 year old self ...
| ( Aussies tend less to stay in dorms so writing in an appropriate way for here! )
I put my breakfast down and went to the door. Who the hell would even be knocking at this time in the morning? I am the only one in my house who wakes up this early, partly because I have class in an hour and partly because I'm 35 weeks pregnant and have been awake since 3am.
I open the door and stop in my tracks. What I see is unexplainable. I do n't know how to describe it, except that it's me. I'm starting at me. This woman is different, sure. Her hair is longer and different. She's about 25kg heavier, but looks great. Glowing. Happy.
This woman speaks 5 words to me.
`` You need to leave. Now.''
I shut the door as I heard my boyfriend get in the shower.
`` Who are you?'' I ask. I fidget nervously figuring out in my head how the hell I'd explain to Nathan why I even answered thedoor, let alone explaining the body double. I stop as I notice her face, my face, contorts to a confused and pained look.
`` I'll explain everything soon. While he's in the shower just oak done stuff and come with me. I'm begging you.''
I believe her. Me. God, this is confusing. I run downstairs and start packing and oversized handbag with a few days worth of clothes. I wiggly get dressed in to jeans, a singlet and cardi and rather than spend the usual hour on my face and hair, I put my hair up and make sure my face is clean. I open the bathroom door and say a quick goodbye to Nathan, telling him that my study group called and asked me to come in early.
`` Fine, I'll call you at lunch. You do n't have money for the bus so you can just walk today.'' His usual response.
I waddle back upstairs, slip my flats on and walk out the door. I look at this version of me and we share a look that I ca n't explain. I do n't know if I trust her, but I trust myself so silently we walk to her car.
I notice a booster seat in the back. I close the back door, my nerves are shot. I hop in the front and put my belt on. She starts the car and we drive. We drive for about 30 minutes, North, until she finally says `` You ca n't go back there.''
.....
|
[ WP ] In the future , Disney purchases an entire planet and makes the whole thing into one giant amusement park .
| McDuck Capital Bank
296 Bleeker St
NY, NY 10012
Atn: Donald Duck, Document Processing Dept.
Dear Mr. Duck,
In connection with the transaction enclosed on January 13, 2020, I have enclosed the following original equity certificates.
One thousand nine hundred and seventy-three ( 1,973 ) shares of common stock issued by Mickey Mars, LLC to Beast Finance Corp Fund II L.P.
Three hundred and eighty-two ( 382 ) shares of preferred series A shares issued by Mickey Mars, LLC to Beast Finance Corp Fund II L.P.
Please acknowledge receipt of the forgoing by signing and dating the acknowledgement on the back of this letter and faxing it to me at the number displayed on the enclosed business card or emailing it to me at MGaston @ Beastfinancecorp.com.
Signed,
Gaston - Junior Associate
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From: DDuck @ McDuckCapitalBank.com
To: MGaston @ Beastfinancecorp.com
Subject: Receipt of notes
Gaston,
We have received the package containing your firm's equity investment and will secure it in our vault this afternoon. I have sent a scan of the acknowledgment on the back of your letter to your facsimile as requested.
Best,
DD
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During the first quarter of fiscal year 2020, the document processing vault at McDuck Capital Bank received several dozen certificates similar to the above in connection to the Mickey Mars transaction. As Qualified Document Custodians under the Dodd Frank Act, McDuck Bank received a fee from its clients in exchange for securing certain investment documents within its vaults. The clients, in this case a syndicate of private equity investors working with King Arthur Capital ( formerly Credit Suisse ), sent these documents to McDuck Bank, US Bank, or any other qualified custodian of their choice in order to comply with Dodd Frank regulations.
McDuck had, as his reputation would have suggested, engineered his bank's position as a Qualified Document Custodian to his personal advantage. To begin with, he possessed a complete listing of all documents within the bank's vault which related to the Mickey Mars transaction on his personal computer under the guise of working from home. McDuck used this data to determine which of his bank's clients held the largest positions within Mickey Mars, and presented it a certain Mr. Chernabog.
Although the details of the meeting are forever unknown as Chernabog refuses to deliver testimony and Mr. McDuck's counsel has advised him to deny any recollection of the event, certain outcomes of the discussion between the two gentlemen have become clear:
Firstly, according to sources whom we will not name McDuck's personal account in the Cayman islands decreased by $ 1.7 bazillion. Although we can not be sure where he transferred the funds, the sum of all balances of Chernabog's accounts increased by a similar amount shortly thereafter.
Secondly, Chernabog used the vast majority of his increased funds, $ 1.5 bazillion, to short several LPs as a qualified investor, including Beast Finance Corporation whose equity transmittal letter I have reproduced above with the aid of my crystal ball. These LP corresponded exactly with the top entries on McDuck's list with maximum exposure to Mickey Mars.
Thirdly, Chernabog fired his broker and hired a new agent, Mr. Goofey, to manage his accounts. Goofey reports that he `` done goofed'' and transferred the shares to an account unknown to him. The position later appeared in an account linked to one of the trust funds responsible for Mr. McDuck's nephews' education.
Finally, upon receiving notification that Goofey had made the transfer, Chernabog flew into a fit of rage, or rather a fit of even more rage than he normally exhibits, and began attacking the spacecraft responsible for shuttling customers from Earth to Mickey Mars on the red planet. This behavior continued at random intervals for 3 months until the trust had liquidated its position.
I will let you draw your own conclusions. I believe I have made my own apparent.
I propose, as a member of this board, that Mr. McDuck be barred from purchasing shares in Mickey Mars. I recognize that my investigative methods have perhaps been unethical, specifically with respect to my reproduction of private documents proprietary to Beast Capital. However, I found them necessary in order to illustrate my point. I am prepared to launch further investigation if necessary in order to thwart any attempts by Mr. McDuck to obscure the channels through which he may attempt to purchase shares. I am also willing to transform into a dragon if necessary in order to more adequately defend out operations against further Chernabog attacks.
Accordingly, I submit this document as a motion.
Merlin
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[ WP ] `` He ran his fingertips across the smooth surface of the picture . ''
| He ran his fingertips across the smooth surface of the picture. He poured another glass of whiskey, not bothering with the ice any more. In the dim light, it was hard to distinguish his facial features. His hooked nose protruded the shade cast over his face by the baseball cap he had on, 2 sizes too small.
`` It would have been his tenth birthday today.'' He finally broke the silence, his words slurred and his breathe burnt in my eyes. I had lost track of the amount of sips he had taken from the bottle labelled'The famous Grouse', but judging from the bottle and the empty ones in the corner, I assume he's had his fair share. `` After I lost my wife, he was all I have left.'' He took a long, hard sip from the bottle, he did n't bother to fill his glass any more. When his sentence came to a halt I recognised this man's voice.
*6 months ago*
`` Yo man, just drive.'' Jerome said, his face was covered in blood, the wound on his face did n't look like it planned on stopping the constant stream of fresh blood, pulsing at every heartbeat. `` What the hell did they want, man?'' My head was cleared a few moments ago by the stream of adrenaline, but I could feel that I was still fairly inebriated. `` I do n't know man, and I do n't want to stick around to find out'' Fair point, I thought to myself. As the alcohol in my blood was slowly winning against the adrenaline shooting through my body, I ran a red light. I jolted the steering wheel to the left, as to avoid the traffic. I lost control of the car, brakes where screeching, people were screaming until we came to a halt in the front garden of a small suburban house. `` Fuck! Jerome, you okay?'' I started `` Go man, no time to stick around!'' I backed the car out of the driveway and manoeuvred our way through the small crowd of people that started to gather. `` My boy! What have you done to my child?'' An unknown voice cried as I accelerated away from what just unfolded. No more drinking before 8, I thought to myself.
*present*
`` Do you remember me?'' The suddenly all too familiar man sobbed. `` Do you know what you've done?'' The man stood up and got his gun off the shelves. I tried to talk to him, explain what went on, apologise, but the duct tape taped around my mouth stopped any words from forming. He grabbed the back of my head, I tried to fight him off but my arms and legs were badly bruised and taped to the chair I was positioned in. `` So you understand what has to happen now...''
CLICK. He cocked his revolver, the spring sounded rusty and the barrel hesitant. I was screaming my lungs out, the tape obscured my words and muffled the sound. I heard the trigger being pulled. I was overwhelmed by the feeling of peace as the light slowly crept out of my eyes, my senses slowly faded as my consciousness extinguished.
*** I started writing about something entirely different, but this came out. Fairly new to this, would love some criticism. I feel like I should have described the environment and ambience a bit more, but I do n't think I should edit a story I already posted ( this being the edit the star next to my name indicates ) ***
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[ WP ] Everyone in America gets dosed at the same time .
| Marry held the pills in her hand and looked intently at the clock. Everyone else in he room was too. Everyone in the country was, as far as they knew.
And it was almost time.
`` Ten!'' The crowd all said in unison, as noon approached.
`` Nine! Eight! Seven! Six!'' Marry held the pill and her water close to her mouth.
`` Five! Four! Three! Two! One!'' And then there was silence as everyone popped their pills and sipped their water.
`` Happy simultaneous medication day everyone'' Marry told the room. Everyone nodded and began filtering out of the break room back to their jobs, confident the stigma of many medications had been eroded with their brave mass dosing.
The next day Marry got pregnant. Unfortunately for her and many other woman on no other medications, the American Simultaneous Medication Time did n't correspond with her usual birth control routine at all.
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[ WP ] A man enters a personal library ... . It is shelved with thousands of copies of a book entitled `` How to make sure no one is reading your mind . '' There are no other books there .
| Brigadier Clairvoyant stalked through The Magnificent's lair. The Magnificent had been rampaging throughout the city for weeks now, killing, stealing, and wreaking havoc. He was the worst villain the city had seen in decades. His craftiness made his attacks incredibly effective, and worse still, there were rumors that he was using the proceeds of these attacks to complete a brainwashing ray. The Magnificent had defeated Lord Puncher, had defeated The Industrial Captain, but Clairvoyant was different. Where Magnificent had trapped other supers, those supers who relied on their powers, Clairvoyant was different. Clairvoyant had to rely on his brain, had to find every advantage he could get to make up for his lack of physical ability.
This made it difficult for him to fight a normal villain. But Magnificent was worse than a normal villain, was craftier, knew how to beat a super. This was why Brigadier Clairvoyant kept his exploits low-key, and waited for situations like these. Because the best way to deal with a villain like nobody's ever seen is to give them a hero like they've never seen.
Brigadier Clairvoyant maintained his psychic aura, ready to detect the minds of any nearby guards. He could n't be too careful. If he was detected, his means of fighting back or escaping were limited. So he merely had to stay undetected.
A guard! No, two. No, a lot of guards, in fact. All around one room. Brigadier Clairvoyant read closer.
*Why are we guarding the latrine? I get that supers'll think its important, but they wo n't fall for it for long, and it'll get me killed. I should have taken that job at Wal-*
Brigadier Clairvoyant moved on through the dimly-lit, sparsely decorated concrete lair. It made sense that it would be, as Magnificent would waste no money on trivialities. Any funds would go towards his dastardly plans.
That was when he saw the doors. Massive, double, oaken doors. Exquisitely hand-crafted, gilded with gold, ornate doorknobs. Guarded by two guards who appeared to be veterans of multiple wars, skilled enough to pose a challenge to any super. Brigadier Clairvoyant grinned. Now here was a challenge. Neither guard knew what was inside the room, either, which showed just how important it was.
Brigadier Clairvoyant began to think on just how to pass this challenge.
Ten minutes and several feet of shoelace later, he was in.
And he was shocked. The entire room was filled with exquisitely bound books. In the center of the room was an armchair as magnificent as its owner, facing a fireplace. But nobody was sitting in the chair, and nobody was in the room. Just books. Brigadier Clairvoyant moved towards the shelves, running a hand over the spines of the books, wondering what would bring Magnificent to spend so much on books, of all things.
Then he noticed the titles. Or rather, the title. One title, and a worrying one at that. *How to make sure no one is reading your mind*. Every book had that title. He took one last check for other people and picked a book off the shelves.
Why were the pages blank? Why would he-wait. There was something on that last page, what was it?
*Distract him. *
A gun clicked-
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[ WP ] Humans started leaving Earth two decades ago . The momentous day has arrived . The final human . Earth is about to become human free .
| The two mice threw long shadows as the light from the rocket's base cleared away the last dimness of morning. Each sat upright, as mammals are want to do, with their tails curled together in the manner of lovers, on the bleachers where so many humans had long before watched their astronauts travel into space. It had rusted, crawling with vines and tiny wild flowers, but still stood.
`` Is this the sixtieth launch? Or the sixty-first?'' asked Mirsk.
`` Sixty-first.'' said Heefl. `` Unless we count the ship that came down from orbit to collect those starving refugees in Tampa.'' He uncurled his tail to flick it in the air, knocking at a fly that buzzed around the pair. It spun off on an air current to bother someone else, no worse for the love tap. `` But what does it matter? According to the grand master, they've all left. That was the last one.''
`` What do we know of her? This Last Woman?'' asked Mirsk. She tilted her head to the side, only to suddenly curl up, frantically chewing at a spot on her belly. If Heefl did not lash out with his tail, she would have tumbled from their perched and into the tall weeds.
`` She was the daughter of a politician.'' Heefl offered. `` And was a farmer for the longest time. The last to hold out, trying to carve something from the ground. In her time here, she slaughtered many goats and sheep, but had done no harm to our people. We carry her no ill will. We should only be so lucky if she teaches the others up there, in the heavens, her way of living with the Earth. Not that it matters, as none will do so again.''
Mirsk nudged Heefl, grooming his fur until she caught a flea. She crushed it between her teeth. `` But will they really never return?''
`` According to the grand master, they can not. The air is too deadly for them. Those that stand too high choke on it and die. The grand master has said that there are places on this world where it is poison even at the ground. That none but those who burrow deep can survive there, for the air is fire in a thunderstorm, and acid in the dry times. It is not fit for them any longer.''
Heefl directed his beady black eyes upward to track the rocket trail, one surrounded in a patch of dark grey against his otherwise off-white fur. The trail stopped as the black speck broke through the sky, escaping from the world, and presumably into space. Heefl did n't know space, it was a distant concept. But he did not yearn to know it, that would be silly when the world was already so big around him.
`` If this is the Last Woman, and she is now gone...'' Mirsk whispered fearfully. `` What will we do? We have only ever watched the men and the women, tracked their ill deeds and reported them to the grand master while staying clear of their feet.''
Heefl curled his tail around Mirsk's again, drawing her attention. Although he was the last of a thousand generations of observers, he was but a simple mouse, what could he say to assuage her fear? What of his own? There was uncertainty ahead.
`` With the Last Human now gone, what can we do, my Mirsk?'' Heefl asked, looking his mate in the eyes. `` But live?''
Mirsk fretted at her belly fur again, silent in consideration. Her tail tightened around Heefl's, threatening to knot.
`` Yes.'' Mirsk whispered. `` *We* will live.''
On that thought, they disappeared into the high weeds under the bleachers, unsure of where they would go or what they would do there. But one thing was certain, unlike the humans, they would *live*.
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[ WP ] You are an explorer and researcher in a submarine floating at the mouth of the Mariana Trench . While researching the life there you feel a low rumble and a load roar comes from the bottom of the trench .
| The rumbling exceeded the capacity my ears could take which was a strange sensation, almost like the opposite of a dog whistle, which had pervasively infiltrated every molecule in my body. Terror... Is having a gun drawn on you, waking up in a coffin, or being chased by a wild animal. This was different, this was terrifying, but enlightening. Morbid yet kethardic... Am I dead? I thought? The thought of me being dead, was releiving actually. Except I was n't. At least I did n't think so, if I was, is my body going to hum and pulsate like this for eternity? Questions questions... Rhetoric really, so what the fuck was happening to me, to us, my team? During this event, this warping of God and space time was the first time I truly grasped the concept of an absolute rhtorical question. Because the answer was completely irrelevant.
Ah the sea is like a mother's womb I joked, reciting episodes of sea lab as we navigated through this vile vorticity that had been known to swallow ships whole.
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[ WP ] A person who is immortal is interviewed for their knowledge of historical events . However they 've forgotten , as immortality does n't give you perfect memory .
| 'How long have you lived?' The reporter asks. She's pretty, in a plain sort of way; does n't wear any makeup, and does n't really need to.
'I do n't know' I smiled, it was a question that I'd been asked almost everyday this past week. Who knew revealing my immortality to the world would generate so many questions.
'You do n't know? As in you've forgotten?' She asks.
'As in, I ca n't remember, although I'd wager at maybe four thousand years, give or take' I say.
'And why do you think that?' She sits forward, pen to paper.
I think for a second,'One of my earliest memories puts me in Ancient Greece, but it was before civilisation had really gotten a hold; the temples were still being built' I shrug,'but... I do n't know, I'm really not sure.'
'You're Greek?' She says, her eyes move from my feet to my head, examining my hair, skin colour, and eyes. I laugh.
'Maybe'
'So you do n't remember where you were born?' She says.
'Do you?' I arch my eyebrow.
'I suppose not, but I remember what I've been told' she says.
'And I was told thousands of years ago; do you think you could remember after all of that time?'
She pauses,'Probably not'.
'Well, there's your answer'.
She shuffles through her notes,'what about recent events? It says here you fought in the American civil war?'
'Was that a question?'
'Yes, did you?'
'I do n't know, where did you get that information?' I ask.
'One of your journals, it was uncovered last year' she explains, confused, as if I should already know.
'Ah, I see. I remember loosing a couple of those' I laugh,'although there was this fire, in some English city, hell it might have been the fire of London,' she's looks as though she's about to ask a question,'But I ca n't remember the year' and she goes back to writing,'I lost nearly every journal, and the few that remained were barely legible. In fact the only one the I could understand turned out to just be about a ship journey I took fifty years earlier' I begin to laugh, as if I've told a joke, but all I receive is a blank expression.
'I guess you had to be there' I smirk.
'Maybe' she says,'what about world war 2? It's well documented you fought there, a sergeant in the British army right?'
My smile fades,'Yes I... Fought'.
'Sorry, it ca n't have been too long ago for you. Do you need some water? Can we get him a drink please' she shouts to an assistant.
'No, please, it's fine, I just... A lot of good men died, many of whom have recently been put to rest' I say.'I lost a lot of friends'
'I apologise, we can move on if you'd like?' She's good at lying.
'That would be nice' I say.
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[ OT ] Get to Know a Mod # 21 : SurvivorType !
| OK, we've all been waiting for this day, so here goes. Without further ado, here are my questions. That's right, my questions:
1. Why did you wait this long to do one of these?
2. What is your favorite part of WritingPrompts?
3. What is your least favorite part of WritingPrompts?
4. If you could add one question to this list, what would it be?
5. What is your answer to the question you added in 4?
6. What is your ban-to-prompt ratio?
7. Should I stop asking questions?
8. *Really? *
9. What event on WritingPrompts was the most fun?
10. What would the correct ignition timing be on a 1955 Bel Air Chevrolet, with a 327 cubic-inch engine and a four-barrel carburetor?
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[ WP ] When you die , you see a screen reading `` New Game+ '' and `` Exit to Reality '' Which do you chose and what happens next ?
| What a fantastic end to the night. Downtown always looked best after dark and the snow fall added just the right amount of contrast to the scene. It was my annual Christmas office party and we had just left the venue. As I opened the cab door to let my wife in she smiled at me and I thought for the hundredth time how right she was about not driving here. We knew it was an open bar and we decided to just be safe about it.
We were sitting in the back seat as I went over all of the office gossip about the people I had just introduced her to when she picked her head up my shoulder.
`` What is that guy, drunk?''.
I looked up just in time to see a pair of headlights swerve from the oncoming lane and into ours.
Everything was dark, well almost everything. Two glowing ovals floated in space right in front of me. On the left one of them read'New Game+', and on the right the other said'Exit to Reality'.
`` What the hell is this?''
I was just in a car with my wife, but now... where the hell am I? I tried to search around but there was nothing else here and no matter which way I looked those two buttons were the only things I could see. It occurred to me that we must have been hit by that other driver. I've read before that when people have traumatic things happen to them their brains come up with elaborate scenes to process the information. This must be what my brain came up with instead of a tunnel of light, like this was all just some kind of video game.
I immediately dismissed the option of `` Exiting to reality''. If this was my life's version of the tunnel of light then there was no question, I was walking away from it. The sense of panic started in my heart and lit my entire body on fire in less then a second. My arm flew up and selected the other option without any more thought, I had to make sure she was OK. I could n't waste anymore time here, I *had* to know what happened. The sign lit up, letting me know that I had made my selection. As my arm came back down to my side something occurred to me `` Should n't that say'Continue'''?
I blinked and then I was surrounded by darkness, I knew I was opening my eyes but it did n't do any good there was nothing to see. I could feel my body again but I could n't move. I heard some strange noises coming from outside, but they were distorted like they was coming through a thick wall.
I thought right away that the car had been crushed and that I was stuck inside and upside down. The accident must have been bad. There was a pushing down near my feet and feeling that I was moving, slowly toward something. Then came the unbelievable crushing pressure on my skull, like it was in some kind of vice that squeezed down on it from every angle at once. I wanted to scream but my chest was paralyzed and there was no air in my lungs. `` Oh God! What is this? What is going on?'' The sensation that I was being pushed slowly through this coffin continued as I struggled to move my arms so I could create some amount of space for my self.
Then I saw the light. It was n't the pleasant feeling of safety you get when you finally find the lamp in a dark room. It was a searing pain that shot through my eyes and stabbed into every corner of my brain. I could finally breath now, and I could finally scream. I risked opening my eyes again just for a second, just to see if I could figure out was going on. I saw men surrounding me, pulling me out of something. I knew that they must be the EMT's. They must have arrived in time to get me out of the wreck and I have never been happier to see another living being. I could n't keep my eyes open for long though and the pain forced me to squeeze them back shut on reflex. I felt my arms and legs flailing around now kicking at nothing but air. I was finally free.
My entire body hurt like nothing else I had ever felt. I ca n't stand any kind of light and even when I get up the nerve to open my eyes again I ca n't see more then two feet in front of me. I ca n't control my arms or legs and I although I am aware of people talking, their sounds they are making do n't make any sense. I must have a really bad concussion. I think my skull is broken. As my body is wrapped from head to toe in a warm blanket, I finally feel that I can pass out. Just before I do a thought finds its way into my mind; I'm six foot four, how fucking big is this monster that is now holding me?
A new bubble pops up in front of me: `` Achievement Unlocked: Forever Reincarnated'' The smaller text below it says: `` Respawn to this world 100 times.''. What the hell does that mean?
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[ WP ] Aliens are studying Earth and determine that Humans have 1 God and that that God is a clock .
| `` Son, come look at this sector with me.''
John walked over to his father's desk. The desk was a massive tablet and it could zoom in and out of various galaxies.
`` Look here. This is the Milky Way Galaxy. Ok, nothing special right. Well, I'm going to show you something cool, but a little weird.''
John enjoyed when his father taught him about distant galaxies. But sometimes his dad was a little crazy.
`` Ok, so here, right by the tail.''
John's father double tapped the desk and the screen zoomed in on a system.
`` This is the Sol System. They have a middle aged star with nine planets. The third one from the Sun harbors life. The people there are tiny and millions of years from possessing any sort of intellect. So, what's the point, dad, you may ask? Well son, these little guys have many religions. They like to fight over there beliefs and histories, but they do n't realize they all follow the same religion. You see this number, it says 4:13 PM Eastern Time Zone. And over there it says 21:13 GMT. That is what they call time. They live their entire lives by these numbers. They tick and tock until they ca n't breathe anymore. Hahaha, its such a pity, because they really do n't understand how meaning less `` time'' is. For instance, in our world, Tiy-sa, we organize our days around certain emotional needs. Everyday we need to satisfy our physical, sexual, spiritual and happiness needs before we call it a day. A strange species those humans. Tick-tock indeed.''
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[ WP ] Take me to your favorite place . Try writing this in second person .
| It's nearly 10 pm when you're driving down Basket Creek Road. There are no streetlights. This, combined with a heavy layer of fog, is really making you wish you had woken up a few hours earlier to make the 12 hour drive. It's been a full year since anyone has been to the little mountain home. Weeds have surely obscured the entrance, but sure enough you see a small piece of wood with the number `` 42'' carved into it nailed onto a tree. You're here.
As you open the car door and step into the long grass, you find yourself again wishing you had gotten here earlier. The thought of snakes hiding in the grass terrifies you. Do snakes go out at night, though? Is it too cold for them? Even on these muggy summer nights? You ca n't remember your snake trivia, so you just hope for the best as you close the car door behind you.
The once red bridge has been stripped and repainted a dark gray. It sways as you drag your suit case across it. The brook underneath rages. It's been rainy lately. The water level is higher than normal. It helps to mask the problems with erosion that this area in the mountains has been having.
You reach the small house and look in your bag for the key. Did you remember to bring it? What if you left it at home? Fuck.
You find it.
You open the door and turn on the light. It's just the way you remember it. The black and white linoleum floor. Pictures of you and the cousins in the summer over the past 22 years. Pictures of distant relatives who would come up here before you. Some mouse droppings in the corner. You will have to lay out some traps tomorrow, but there's still too much work to do tonight.
You hate this part, but it's a necessity. You venture into the basement to turn on the water. There are only four stairs to get down there, but they creak loudly enough to alert anything down there of your presence. Not that anything would be down there, save for a few mice and bugs, maybe snakes. Those fears tend to stick with you though, even after childhood.
The water is turned on and you retreat back upstairs, closing the basement door behind you. You choose the small bedroom to stay in.
Opening the large trunk at the foot of the bed, you find sheets and pillow cases that somehow do n't smell too bad. Usually you are met with a smell that takes a night or two to get used to.
You lay down, finally starting to think the long drive was worth it. You fall asleep looking forward to the week ahead of you.
In the morning you wake up and make a list of things to do for the day. You definitely will have to drive to Callicoon. You wonder if any more shops have closed in the dying little town. Without the `` Flea Market'' you realize that for the first time in 15 years you are n't going to be able to get a Cloisonne figurine to add to your small collection. Luckily though the supermarket, Peck's, is still there. You grab some groceries and as you drive back to the home you check to see which movie is playing this week. `` Dawn of the Planet of the Apes'' is playing for the next two nights. Maybe you'll see it.
You get back to the home. Spending the day getting ready. You break out the old rider mower, hoping it still has some life in it after all the disuse and mow down the snake-hiding grass. You sweep up the bedrooms, set some mousetraps, and find the old cushions for the porch furniture.
By the end of the day you are exhausted, but all your hard work will be worth it. Tomorrow your family comes. Then will be the time for the fun. Will you hike the mountain tomorrow? See if the old diving spot about half a mile down the brook is still deep enough? Maybe tube down the Delaware River if the weather looks promising.
You sometimes wish you could bring other people up here. Sometimes you find yourself describing it to friends or dates or coworkers and they look at you like you are crazy.
No cell phone service. No internet. No television. Half the time you are here you are cleaning. The place almost always smells or feels damp. Rattlesnakes are fairly common. The nearest town is a twenty minute drive away, which is n't too bad, but there's nothing much there. A few kitschy shops, one grocery store, a one-screen movie theater. You worry that if you were to bring someone other than family that they wo n't appreciate it. But you do, and that's what matters. You spend the rest of the daylight reading on the screened in porch, listening to the nature around you.
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[ WP ] `` We have to leave him behind ! He is n't going to make it ! '' ... that was 10 years ago . They did n't think you 'd survive . You did . And now it 's time they found out .
| `` Been a while, has n't it?''
Jesus. Was that the best I could do? I'd had ten years to think up a line and *that* was it?
Ah well. The reaction was still the same, thankfully. Open mouths. Stares of shock. Someone dropping a glass. All as I'd hoped.
`` Matt, man? Fuck, we thought you were dead, dude,'' said Jimmy. Not the smartest around, Jimmy. You'd see brighter sparks on the end of the toke perpetually dangling from his lips.
`` So did I, to be honest. You know how long I was in those ruins? Or have you forgotten already?''
Sam cut me off. `` Come on, man, do n't be like this. We thought you were --''
`` Going to die? Is that what you were going to say?''
`` But that poison... That was guaranteed to kill you!''
`` Thanks for the reminder, Charlie. I noticed as I was writhing in agony.''
Damn it. Even after all those practices, I could n't hide how bitter I was. Cold and detached, Matt. You got this. Time to play your trump card.
`` I wonder exactly how you knew that, Charlie. Could it be because of this?'' I pulled the glass bottle from my pocket. Charlie's eyes widened, though whether it was with fear or realisation I could n't tell.
`` It was n't the dart in the temple that had poison in it, was it, Charlie? It was the soup you oh-so-lovingly made for me. Was n't it?''
Charlie could n't talk. He was clutching his throat. As were Sam and Jimmy, actually.
`` The soup you all made together to help a friend in need, yes?''
Tears were streaming down their faces now.
`` In any case, I decided to repay your *gratitude* with a present. Mixed into the beer you all just drained.''
Charlie had already collapsed, the bastard. Jimmy and Sam were still hanging on, though.
`` You should have invited me to the reunion.''
Not sure why I said that. No one was left to hear it. Maybe it was just for therapeutic purposes. After all...
Ten years with the knowledge your best friends tried to kill you does n't exactly help the anger management.
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[ WP ] Write a story about the chain reaction one bullet caused and how it changed someones life .
| On September 14, 1994, a mugging went badly for everyone involved. In the ensuing chaos, a gun went off, killing a passing cyclist.
The cyclist was engaged to a woman named Diana Gaines. Upon losing her fiancé, Diana slipped into a deep depression. Because she was so consumed with grief, she lost her job as a kindergarten teacher and took a part-time job as secretary at a pharmacy. As consumed with grief as she was, her job was not done well. One day, as she slumbered at her post, men came in and stole a lot of very expensive medications.
Diana lost her job, and the men gained a livelihood that lasted them several months. In February of 1995, one of the purchasers of some of the drugs was unhappy with the shipment, and was cheated out of several tens of thousands of dollars.
The man, Güero Rivera, took out his frustration on his 13-year-old son that night, breaking both of his legs.
Ashamed of what he had done, he did not seek medical help, and the boy spent months in pain before his legs healed awkwardly and gruesomely twisted.
The boy left the state and became a waiter far from home, at a small restaurant that did n't mind that his gait was not smooth and that he took several minutes to cross a room.
One night as he worked, many years later, he bumped the very edge of a table as he passed, just enough to upset the glass of water on its surface and spill its content into the lap of one of the customers.
The occupants of the table were two high schoolers, on their very first date. 17-year-old Bryan Tate, with his perfectly-styled hair, wearing a borrowed pair of loafers because his sneakers were ripping at the seams. 16-year-old Marissa Davis, her hands shaking with anxiety, her bangs damp with a nervous sweat.
The glass of water spilled right into Bryan's lap, and Marissa, who had n't noticed the limping waiter passing by, blamed her shaking hands.
Red-faced, she rushed out of the restaurant without saying goodbye to Bryan, though he tried to console her.
Days passed, and she could n't bear to leave her room. Every time she tried, she was overwhelmed with waves of shame and regret and embarrassment until it buried her, and she rushed instead to nestle in her bed and bury herself in the Internet.
And there, in her room, she stayed. Because of the bullet.
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[ WP ] A Fantasy world where magic exists inside clouds . Cloud harvesting is a real , dangerous profession similar to electricity companies or deep sea oil rig work .
| The young man looked around, as he sat in his small airship. He finally saved up enough to get one. Although, it was really more of a hot air balloon with a couple of steam powered fans and a rudder to help steer. No longer would he have to rent one from that dirty scoundrel Lazirith. He would finally be able to harvest clouds for only himself, and would n't have to share half of his earnings with Lazirith. Today he would make a name for himself as the best cloud harvester ever, and maybe if he did a good job for the Wizard, he might teach him some tricks to use in a pinch. Besides pirates, you had to worry about dragons, birds larger than some airships, and the Hawkari, a humanoid winged creature with black skin, sharp talons, a beak and nasty magic. They stuck to the Nimbostratus clouds for the dark storm magic. So avoiding them was n't normally an issue. In the two years he had been collecting clouds Jaxson had never seen a Hawkari. He made a last check that he had his cloud trappers, harpoon gun, pack and enough fuel to last him and he launched.
Jaxson got up to the Stratocumulus cloud level. From here Jaxson could see the entire world. Everything looked fake from this perspective. The trees and village he could make out looked like children's toys. The tilled fields like small checker boards of green and brown. The Strato clouds were good for quick money as most mages, witches, and wizards used the elements from the clouds in a majority of their spells.
Jaxson prepared his first cloud trapper as he was about to enter the cloud. He grabbed the bronze latch at the top of the glass container and twisted it a quarter turn, until it popped open, with the release of pressure. He did n't know how the Magesmiths make these but he had managed to buy five of them over the past two years. Not an easy thing when they cost half a gold each, but now he was able to collect a lot of clouds in one run. He positioned the bottle in the holder on the side of his basket. As soon as it was placed in the basket, once invisible runes on the side of the glass began to glow turquoise. To Jaxson they were scribbles, but he new that once in the basket, the basket runes activated the cloud catching runes and began to suck in the clouds. After about five minutes Jaxson seals the lid back on the bottle, and gives the latch a quarter turn to close it. He always wondered how the clouds could be so big then shrink so small but look the same as when they were big. Jaxson rummaged through his pack to pull out some bread and cheese to eat. As he sat chewing the day old stale bread and hard cheese he heard a screech.
`` Fuck'n hell. What was that?'' Jaxson said to himself as he peeked over the side of the basket. In the sky, barreling his way looked to be a baby dragon, being chased by a Hawkari. He reached down and grabbed his harpoon gun, lifted it up and took aim at the Hawkari. Jaxson knew the dragon at such a young age was far more manageable than the Hawkari. The harpoon left the gun as Jaxson got the Hawkari in the sights. The Hawkari noticed the harpoon at the last second and shot off a quick lightning spell to stop it. It missed and hit my basket. The harpoon struck through the Hawkari's chest, pinning one of its wings back. It instantly dropped out of the sky, spiraling until Jaxson could no longer see it clearly. He would need to get a new harpoon now but at least he did n't die today.
The beating of wings growing closer, snapped him back to the moment. He just realized the dragon was flapping its wings outside of the basket. Jaxson peeks over the edge of the basket, into the bright blue eyes of a baby dragon. The dragon was green, he knew this was a earth dragon but all dragons had the ability to fly. They stared at each other for a minute as Jaxson slowly pulled off a chunk of bread and threw it to the dragon. The dragon dove into the basket before Jaxson could do anything. Not that there was much he could do to stop something as large as a wolf. Luckily, he was only a baby. It snuggled up against Jaxson and he slowly lowered his hand, and began stroking the babies head. He went to pat his stomach but the dragon snapped up and barred his teeth.
`` Hold on, Hold on. Its okay I did n't mean to hurt you.'' Jaxson said as he raised his hands up in defense. The dragon put its head back into Jaxson's lap. Jaxson caught sight of a gash in the side of the dragon just below his right wing. He slowly lifted the wing up, noticing the gash was more than he could mend himself. Jaxson made the decision to bring the dragon to the Wizard to see if he could help the young dragon. He could drop off the cloud he picked up while he was at it.
`` Well little dragon. Lets see if we can get you all fixed up.'' Jaxson looked at the horizon and the ground as they started their descent.
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[ CW ] Write a story about anything you like , run it through Google translate a few times into various languages , translate it back into English , and then post the result .
| [ Original post ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/writingcritiques/comments/2omfgn/well_at_least_it_didnt_explode_250/ )
Injection of deuterium and tritium in the vacuum chamber is in progress. `` Are you nervous. `` Focus Power Heinrich Meier, accompanied by severe blow on the shoulder of physics. `` And is not it? `` `` Of course I am, `` admitted Germany, `` but I'm concerned about a child my little here every day for ten years, and now he is learning on his feet. `` Michael Koch doubt that' german've never worried about anything in his life. As chief engineer had nothing but confidence in the whole process was. `` I hope you're right. `` One of the technicians who sit at the computer bench shot in the chair. `` Injection is complete. We are ready to start the next phase. `` Pete superconducting coils and took poroidal. This will make the center of the vacuum plasma chamber, the largest by raising the temperature to 10 million degrees Celsius. Cook precautions now was on heat and energy production monitor. Panic rose in her chest as the temperature reaches 150 million degrees, but the output to zero. `` We did it! `` Said Meier. Cook gasped, `` No, we did not! ``! ``. Care Energy `` little `` deflated, but always answered with a smile on his face Meier: `` Well, at least it did not explode `` crack Steven Springer looks out the window of the World - on the wall light things tied ISS atmosphere, for two minutes and 13 seconds of the solar system was another star.
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[ WP ] Humanity as a whole is being farmed by fallen angels , demons , and other malevolent forces who are working full-time day and night to acquire our souls for their own purposes in the afterlife
| `` Hit him.''
`` What?''
`` I said hit him.''
Jacob's mouth set into a thin line, but he did as he was told, and delivered a strong blow to the angel's delicate face. Blood oozed from the side of his head, painting his golden hair a rosy pink, and in the dim light, it looked as though it were tinted with bits of sunlight.
`` All you got ta do is answer our questions, Halo, and we'll let you go.'' Marin said, propping herself up on the angel's chair. She was becoming frustrated with the being that sat before them. For three days they have shot him full of questions, kept him in solitary confinement, and they still did n't even know his name.
The angel grinned and spat some of his blood onto the ground. `` You're as likely to let me go as I am to answer your questions. I'm not stupid, Marinda. I've already come to terms with my fate.''
`` Then why do n't you just answer our questions? It wo n't help you in any way to stay loyal to your brethren.'' Jacob spoke up. He was twiddling a knife between his fingers, an action that did n't go unnoticed by the angel. Marin almost laughed. She knew it was his nervous habit to always play with whatever he was holding, and at this moment, it just so happened to work in their favor.
The angel chuckled. `` They are my family. I wo n't dishonor them. Not even with torture or death being threatened.''
Jacob sighed and drove the knife into the table, watching as the freshly sharpened blade splintered and shattered the wood beneath it. Then, he motioned towards the door, silently telling Marin that he needed some air.
When the barn door swung shut behind him, Marin spun back on the angel. Three days ago, he had been caught harvesting a soul from their neighbor, and they jumped on the opportunity of taking him prisoner. The neighbor did n't make it, unfortunately, but losses had become the norm ever since Heaven and Hell met on Earth.
`` You're a fallen angel, correct?'' She whispered, yanking Jacob's knife from its place in the table.
The angel merely glared at her, though he was more surprised than angry. Her entire aura had shifted dramatically within a fraction of a second.
`` Do n't bother lying, I know you are. The burns on your back- two slits that perfectly match the outline of wings. You were cast out. Tell me, Halo, if your loyalty is not with your so-called brothers and sisters of Heaven, then who is it with?''
He actually looked dumbfounded by her words. He was looking her up and down, taking in slow, shaky breaths, until he finally sighed.
`` You caught me.'' He breathed. `` I am not aligned with Heaven.''
`` But surely you would n't work for demons?''
He laughed sourly, the action shaking the chains that held him in place. For a second, Marin wondered if the sigils branded onto the iron would still be able to hold him.
`` I'd rather die than say I work for those black-eyed abominations. No, I work for a much... greater cause.'' He spat more blood onto the ground. His eyes met Marin's, their deep ocean blue struggling to connect with her in any way possible, but it would n't work. He was far too weak to use any kind of mind games.
Marin glanced over her shoulder to make sure Jacob was still outside, and then turned back to the angel. `` Why are you telling me all of this now? You were n't talkative five minutes ago.''
`` Why did you suddenly change your questions when Jacob left the room?''
Marin bit her tongue and turned her eyes down to the floor. This angel fell, so he must have done something upstairs to warrant getting booted, but the major question on her mind was *who* his boss was. That was the information she wanted out of him, but it would be nearly impossible to break out of him.
The angel shifted in his chair. `` I'm going to warn you now, Marin, my boss is not the kind of man you want to play with. I'm sure he has heard about what you've been doing to me, and when he shows up here to take me back- you'll wish you had listened to me sooner.''
She held the knife up to the light. Jacob had gotten it from his father when he was seven, he said it was a very special blade that could protect him from any and all danger, even divine. Now, in the thin light that surrounded them both, she could see that something was written on the edge of the blade. *Do not forget, my son, God has abandoned you. *
Marin looked from the blade to the angel, and then smiled. `` Well, I guess we'll see then, wo n't we?''
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[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : On the Road Edition
| Sometimes, when the sun goes down on the horizon, I close my eyes and pretend that I'm back home. I can practically feel the stained green carpet scraping the soles of my bare feet. The wind pushing my hair back from my face feels like it's coming in from the open window across from me, and even the heat from the sun brings me back to a simpler time of sitting in an overheated, overcrowded kitchen with my family. Yet when I open my eyes, I remember that that home is unreachable and unreal; it lives simply within a memory that will one day slip away. I often find myself searching for a solace in these sunsets, and leaving empty. I get so close to a life that I once knew, only to be brought back to a dimmer reality where the sun has hidden itself out of our reach.
A voice calls out from behind me, beckoning me back to here and now, yanking me from my daydreaming. It's silly, really, for me to be yearning for a life that I probably made up; there has only ever been Underground for me, and that's the home that I should be spending my time on. “ Winter? ” The voice repeats, closer now.
I let one last breath escape through my open mouth before standing. I make my way through the tall grass, then slip through the tree line like a whisper. “ Seth, ” I greet, silently stepping over broken twigs and dried out leaves.
“ What are you doing out here, Winter? You know what Boss would say if he found out that you were here, let alone that you were sitting there in plain daylight – anyone could have seen you. ”
I gently pull my hair behind my ears and into a tight knot at the base of my skull. “ And thought what, exactly? People out there do n't expect much from someone like me. ” I force out a chuckle, trying for a moment to picture myself from their point of view: a teenage girl with jet black hair, standing just above five feet tall. I would seem helpless, innocent, and naive. “ Plus, ” I continue with a small smile, “ it's not as though sunrise is plain daylight. ”
Seth runs his hands roughly through his blonde curls. “ You know what I mean. ” He puts a hand softly on my shoulder and catches my eyes. “ They all look up to you, Winter. If any of those kids down there heard that you were just sitting out here, you know that they would all try to come Outside and sit here, too. You have a responsibility, if not to Boss, then to them. ”
“ They're not my children, and I sure as hell did n't bring them down there, ” I snap. “ Just because they happened to be taken in by Boss, like us, and they just happen to be living in the same facility as us, it does n't mean that I have to treat them like they're my children or something. I don ’ t have to shape everything that I do for their benefit. ”
I stop when Seth drops his hand from my shoulder and steps a few paces away. He studies the ground as though the answers to the universe may be hidden beneath the decomposing remnants of summer. He shakes his head before raising his eyes to meet my own. “ We ’ re all they ’ ve got, Winter. You know that. ”
Somewhere inside of me I know that he ’ s right; it ’ s the same part of me that ’ s yearning for a home and a family. I ’ ve spent the past five years Underground, taking each day and each mission in stride, waiting for something to happen that gives me a glimpse to the past that ’ s been taken from my memory. Boss told me, on that first day, that it was my thirteenth birthday, and it was time for me to grow up – time for me to take responsibility. He showed me around Underground, showed me all of the dorms and the classrooms, the lounge and the cafeteria, and explained to me the importance of my presence there. I was his prodigy, and I was to be in charge of Underground one day. I was to care for the younger children there, children as young as six, and I was to demand respect from any of them that were older than me.
It was never much of a choice for me. When you can ’ t remember anything but your name, and what happened only a few hours earlier is shrouded in a deep fog, it ’ s not as though you can decide what to do with a clear head. I did as Boss said, and I did it well. Five years later, I ’ m still doing what he says.
It ’ s not as though I don ’ t care about the kids that are Underground with us. I practically raised them, after all. My entire memory was taken up by long evenings training kids that were falling behind, and sleepless nights spent tossing and turning and praying that they would still be there in the morning. It wasn ’ t that I didn ’ t care about what happened to them. It was more about needing to breathe in fresh air every once in a while, and about pretending for even a minute that I belonged in a world of stained green carpet and open windows.
( This is what I have so far as a first chapter of an ongoing thought in my mind. Mostly hoping it's enough of a hook, but I am all for constructive criticism. )
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[ WP ] The President has died , but in a manner more befitting a cartoon character than a head of state . You 're the Press Secretary , it 's your job to inform the public what has happened , answer their questions , and get them to take it seriously .
| `` Ok, everyone. I'll be reading a brief statement and I ask that you please hold all of your questions until the end. As you may know, the President was scheduled to make a stop in Arizona this morning to meet with Governor Brewer. Afterwards, he took the motorcade south to visit the border area and meet with guards. And I'm afraid to report that there was a serious accident on the way, and the President has died.''
*Cameras click, reporters shout questions, and the Press Secretary holds up his hand to try to quiet them down. *
`` As best we can determine, the driver for the president's limousine in Arizona was not properly vetted with the Secret Service. Or there was some sort of mix-up and the President was put into the wrong vehicle; we're still trying to establish exactly what went wrong and how this individual ended up at the wheel. Based on recordings from the driver seat, this individual seemed to be harboring a deep grudge against some of the wildlife in Arizona's nature preserves. He did not directly threaten the President, but instead went off the road in an attempt to kill birds native to the area. We are also looking into the possibility that he was experiencing hallucinations: at one point, he mentions following a bird into a tunnel, followed shortly by the sounds of a loud impact that match with hitting a wall or some other solid object. The recording also captures a'meep meep' sound that may be another driver's horn. We are still trying to locate this potential witness.''
*Reporters again try to interject with questions. The Press Secretary continues reading*.
`` The President and this madman both survived that initial impact, as far as we can determine. In the recording, you can hear the President in the back seat, demanding to know why the driver is strapping missiles to the limousine. The driver only grumbles in response. As best we can tell, the driver then activated these rockets, sending the car careening through the desert and straight over a sheer cliff, plummeting straight into the canyon below. Beyond the wreckage of the car, the only evidence found at the scene was a wooden placard reading `` Oops!''
*More questions are shouted. *
`` Finally, the American people should be reassured that this is not part of a larger terror plot. This'Wile E. Coyote' was a lone wolf, acting alone. However, his credit card bills indicate that he regularly purchased dangerous weapons and traps, though those items have not been located. We are investigating his ties to a potential illicit arms smuggling ring connected to the Acme Corporation, which is known to supply North Korea with weapons and equipment.''
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[ WP ] Marriage in an alternate universe is literally a lifelong commitment ; when either partner dies , their counterpart immediately drops dead .
| `` Please, just take it easy,'' I whispered as the mugger held his knife steadily at my wife's throat. His steady hand attested to his criminal experience.
`` Transfer your entire bank account funds to mine, NOW!'' The mugger yell ed. I ground my teeth, then slowly slid my cell phone out of my pocket.
`` No funny business, or you both die. It's no use calling the cops; if you do, I'll kill her and be long gone before they show up.''
I nodded slowly, shaking as my brain took in this reality. I could die. My wife could die. I unlocked my cell phone and opened my bank's online app. The seconds ticked by as it verified my password and connected to the server.
`` Please, leave us some money,'' my wife pleaded with the assailant.
`` All of it,'' the crook said forcefully.
I sighed and hit the button to begin a new wire transfer. The only other time I'd used a wire transfer was when my wife and I got married. When your souls and very lives are so intertwined that even death can not separate you, there's no reason to have two bank accounts. I thought back to the anti-marriage propaganda my siblings had shoved on me when I had announced I was going to marry. There was a pretty big social movement to stop marrying people because 45 percent of all deaths were simply because of spouse death. Successful Wall Street traders would suddenly fall down dead because their spouse had decided that life was n't worth living. Others dropped dead because the spouse wanted to `` get back'' at their significant other for some offense. I understood the movement's point of view, but I could never see Susan as someone like that. But now, all their arguments and evidence funneled into my mind as I watched my wife's and my own life on the line.
`` Hurry UP!'' The thief yelled, jerking Susan a little and putting the knife on her skin.
I took a deep breath, and hit send on my screen.
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[ WP ] You are the world 's most successful superhero . Unbeknownst to everyone , you have no powers . You have never had to throw a punch because you are a master of the villain breaking speech .
| As I calmly walk into the bank SGT. Doomhand had taken hostage I make sure to check on the 15 or so people laying on the ground. SGT. Doomhand comes around the corner to see me standing there causing him to jump and drop his giant metal hand on the ground.
I sigh and shake my head before saying,'' what are you doing Harold ( Doomhand's real name )? How could you hurt all these people? Harold I'm not mad at you I'm just disappointed in you. I want you to know that I have called your mother and father told them what you have done. When I told your mother she burst into tears and your father told me he would leave work early and be right over.''
When I finished speaking Doomhand's face because as pale as a vampires ass cheek. The word `` Disappointed'' hit Doomhand like a runaway train causing him to cough up blood from shame. Hearing he made his mother cry felt like he was struck by a tidal wave made of guilt that made him feel sick and woozy. And the fear he felt from hearing that not only had his father heard of what he did and that he made his mom cry but that he had to leave work early and was on his way caused Doomhand fall to the ground and start crying.
I was able to save all 15 hostages and thwart Doomhand's plan to rob the bank. Once again I was able to prove that words are mightier than the sword. Fortunately I was able to leave before Doomhand's father Gen. Doomblade arrived. I hear Harold works in a library now days.
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[ WP ] Rain now shimmers as it falls . You witness the first severe thunderstorm since the phenomenon began .
| Angel sips at her tea, leaning against one of the posts for the deck ’ s roof. The steam drifts straight upward with stillness of the humid air. The incoming storm rumbles in the distance, the air itself crackling with energy and anticipation. As she looks out across the trees and bushes in her front yard, the leaves have been turned upwards, the plants eager for the rain after a week of broiling hot weather.
The tea ’ s scent of raspberry drifts along, the scent of rain heavy in the air and another rumble of thunder, much closer, comes from the billowing clouds. Angel looks upward more, taking another sip off of the clear mug. A bolt of lightning streaks across the darkening sky and she counts.
“ One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thou— ” The crack of thunder cuts her off and she takes a sip from her mug. “ Three miles. ” Another bolt flashes and there ’ s the immediate sound of thunder, not even allowing a ‘ one ’ from her lips. She sips more at her tea, watching and waiting as the sky grows heavy.
There is no rain yet, just the promise of it on a stiff breeze that finds itself blowing. The sycamore trees bend and sway, dancing as more lightning flashes across the sky. Angel sniffs the air, smelling the rain incoming and looks up again. More lightning, more thunder, and the wind begins to pick up. Even the holly tree bends this time and the gust picks her short hair up and throws it crosswise across her head.
Another sip of her tea, shaking her head to return her hair to its normal position. The clouds billow higher, the sky changing colors and becoming greener and a sense of unease threads through her. The weather was so unpredictable around here but she just had to see. Jessica said that it was beautiful. Angel drinks more, looking up again, waiting for the rain. There ’ s a deafening crack of lightning and thunder, startling her and making her draw back under the porch further in fright.
And then the rain starts. It ’ s large, plopping drops, thick in the air and dropping straight downwards at first. Each drop glimmers as if it has its own little internal light. Angel watches in fascination. She had always loved storms but this new event, the rain shimmering, it made the storms that rolled through absolutely hypnotizing. They even shimmer after hitting the ground for a couple of seconds.
A streak of lightning lights up the sky, the rumble of thunder immediately following it. Each drop of water outputs a rainbow in the flashes of lightning, the electricity in the air setting her hair standing straight up. A flash sends a streak of rainbow across the sky and ground, changing the color the grass with each new streak of light. The wind picks up, sending the rain down at a new angle with each gust.
The trees dance in the wind, rainbow patterns flashing on and off of their leaves and trunks with each strike of lightning and deafening roar of thunder. The gusts of wind make the rainbows twist and transform before her eyes, brightening the green light into all colors. Each flash gives a new picture, a new image that isn ’ t ever the same as the one before. The yard has been transformed into a wonderland of pure colors and lights.
Angel sits where she ’ s been standing, staring blankly out at the sight in front of her, not sure if her legs can keep holding her up. Jessica had been right. It is absolutely beautiful.
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[ WP ] You are at home one day when you look into the mirror , and notice that your sister , who passed away years ago , is smiling at you from inside . You walk over and reach out to touch her , and your hand goes through the glass ...
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I stood in front of the bathroom sink and let the lukewarm water roll off my face and back into the sink. Without opening my eyes I reached for the hand towel and dried my face off. I had to get ready for my Chemistry midterm that was in two hours. The anxiety had been gripping me for the past two weeks, I had barely even talked to mom. This thought sent a sudden feeling of guilt to course through me. It was the anniversary of Ruth's death tomorrow. It was hard on Mom especially since she had raised us by herself without any help. She was never home working two jobs just to keep us fed, which is why she blamed herself so much when my little sister killed herself. I of course blamed myself too. I kept telling myself I should've been home sooner. I should n't have been goofing around playing video games with my friends. If only I was there I could've stopped her and prevented all of this.
The water spilling over the sink sent me back into reality. `` Shit... shit.'' I swore before quickly turning off the tap. I ran a hand over my face in exhaustion and glanced into the mirror. At first I thought I was dreaming. There right in front of me, in the mirror was Ruth. Her black curly hair still in two tiny pigtails and her favourite Yoshi shirt, the one I bought her for Christmas. `` Ruth?'' my voice came out strained barely a whisper. She smiled innocently in response. I leaned in closer to the mirror and rubbed my eyes. She was still there to my surprise.
`` Brother! Come on let's go play!'' She called to me her voice rehashing memories I was n't aware I had forgotten. Hesitantly I placed my hand on the mirror I had seen horror movies, I did n't want to be that idiot but it was my sister.
My hand passed through, it felt like I stepping into a giant jello wall but I continued into the mirror anyway. Chemistry could wait, my sister could not.
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[ WP ] The last time the aliens invaded our planet they fled after losing the war . They have reluctantly returned to wage war and are relieved to see that dinosaurs no longer inhabit Earth , but have been replaced by the smaller and less intimidating humans .
| `` Holy shit''
Those were the first words Dr. `` Alien Expert'' said as he reviewed the the weird recordings the extraction team found in the ship we took down 18 hours ago.
It's been 21 days since they showed up. Millions of lives have been lost and our only hope rested in these weird ass recordings. Of course, I have n't seen anything yet because I do n't have clearance. I'm just another soldier standing in the corner while everybody is scrambling to figure out our next move. The aliens were kicking our asses, and by `` ours'' I mean the whole damn world, not just the USA.
The attacks began in northern Montana. 8 days later Austria got hit. Then France, Germany and Holland were attacked. Spain got the worst of it all. The country does n't even exist anymore.
We needed something. Anything.
Various military leaders from different countries were here in the same room. Anxiously awaiting what the alien expert would say next.
`` Holy shit'', he repeated.
`` Doctor Caellum, what do you see? ``, asked Fleet Admiral Kane. `` Does it show something that can help us?''
The doctor turned towards us with tears in his eyes. He could barely speak but I caught what he said.
`` This is n't their first visit''
The room went silent. Doctor Caellum composed himself and explained the situation.
These aliens had been here before and had to flee Earth because they lost the war for the planet... against fucking dinosaurs. They've been planning this invasion for millions of years.
`` So...'', Secretary of Defense Oliver was flabbergasted. `` What do you propose we do? Call Japan and ask for Godzilla? We're fucked.''
Lieutenant general Takashi did n't seem amused by the Secretary of Defense remarks and just proceeded to ask the important questions.
`` It took a lot of manpower to take down this ship. Can we still defend ourselves? Can humanity survive this attack? ``, Takashi asked.
Doctor Caellum proceeded to explain with enthusiasm that the Aliens wrote briefings fearing the `` new species'' is not as useless as they seem. Cocky bastards.
The whole room went into a frenzy planning the next move. Everybody was trying to come up with their own plan. Wasting precious time.
I could n't keep listening to the pointless arguing and just spoke up.
`` Permission to speak freely, sir'', I shouted, not exactly knowing whose permission I was asking.
The Secretary of Defense Oliver granted me permission. `` Yes, private Lopez?''
`` The briefings and recordings state that the Alien menace came here looking for a species that no longer exists. They prepared for an enemy that's no longer here. We now know how to hurt them. Let's show these fuckers that humans are not here for the bullshit''.
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[ WP ] You are the boss/guardian of an RPG temple . Show me how you spend your free time waiting for the hero to arrive !
| In the early days these so called “ heroes ” just couldn ’ t compete. Most challengers were a joke that I would casually smack back to the previous checkpoint. They would feebly try to regroup and formulate a new strategy, but even the best and brightest among them simply weren ’ t fast enough, smart enough, or strong enough to cut it. Word of my prowess began to spread. This was my moment of glory, until something happened that I never expected. People were getting upset with me. Apparently kicking ass isn ’ t fun for the person on the receiving end. Not exactly a revelation, but what was I supposed to do, not kick ass? The powers that be were beginning to reassess my future. But I was fortunate, I was one of the few who was around early enough to have friends with their ear to the ground. They passed along the whispers to me, gave me a heads up about what was coming. It went against every fiber of my being, but I knew that I had to start letting my opponents win.
It used to make me so upset, so depressed. I started to think that my life was entirely pointless, one long string of little twerps who came in here all cocky, wearing their flashy fucking gear. I couldn ’ t do anything but make it look like a good fight, make them think that they earned it. At the end of the day, it was just me falling on my sword. But I realized that ’ s how you survive. That ’ s how you get to respawn and fight the next punk in line. The alternative is to let the gods, devs as they call themselves, purge you from the world. Or even worse, they will let you live, but nerf you so badly that you become impotent, unable to withstand even the most meager opponent. That would be a pain worse than death, at least now when I am defeated I know that it was my choice.
Before I understood this reality, I used to squeeze the most out of every moment of down time that I had. If I wasn ’ t crush some pipsqueak, I was pumping iron or surfing Amazon.boss ( sorry, it ’ s invite only ) for my next diabolical weapon. Now I just sit here, replaying my copy of the Orange Box. I have to be the hero sometimes, right? Now I have nothing better to do while I wait for the next twerp to come along and think that he ( or she, apparently girls like games too now ) whooped me fair and square. I just hope that Valve throws me a bone and releases the sequel that I have been waiting nearly 9 million respawns for ( eight years in the real world ) before I fade into obscurity.
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[ WP ] An unbeatable supervillain conquers the world , rules with an iron fist , grows bored , and eventually retires from public life . Years later , you strongly suspect the old man who just moved in next door is that retired supervillain .
| Many years ago, Dreadlord Nefarius had managed to reach the end of his eternal pursuit and gained absolute power... then figured out he did n't know what to do with it. Some even found him a better ruler than the one with rights to that power.
For the longest time, I've had suspicions about my neighbour. The way he reminisces about the days of Nefarius, the way he seems to crave power, the way he sometimes seems to be someone else entirely... he seems like a nice guy, but it's a classic trope that the villian is a nice guy once you get past the whole `` taking over the world'' thing.
I so desperately want to know what his true story is, but I ca n't exactly ask `` excuse me, are you secretly Dreadlord Nefarius?''
But one of my friends was a Blood Knight of the Eternal Flameland. I say `` was'' because once he got used to less, um, deadly pastimes, he became just like another one of us.
I have reason to believe that even the worst person can change. That everyone can be a good person, no matter how dark their past.
I'm guessing my neighbour does too.
The villain really is a good person once they get over the whole `` taking over the world'' thing.
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[ WP ] After what feels like an eternity , your machine is finally complete . You 're about to turn it on for the very first time
| With the fervor of a infinite, metered impatience, I adjust the nexus bolt on the device ever so slightly. Sweat beads down from my temples. Anxiety wracks my insides, but I can not afford to lose focus now. Not after so long a project.
`` They called me mad,'' I mutter to no one. `` They said it could n't be done. They said I was crazy to even consider the creation of such a device, let alone attempt to build it! Well, science guys, who's the crazy one now?'' A burble of high, manic laughter escapes my throat. `` Not I! *Not. I. *''
Just one final adjustment. The screw clicks satisfyingly into place. I set down my tools, admiring my work a moment. And now it begins.
`` Initialization sequence, activate.'' I crank down the front-facing lever with a great tug. The whirring of gears fills the room in a beautiful cacophony. `` Stabilization sequence, activate.'' I flip up a row of switches on the side of the great machine. Each switch lights up in turn. There's an electrical hum now.
Moment of truth.
`` Activation sequence, activate.''
I flip the tuner from INACTIVE to ACTIVE. My breath catches in my throat. Everything seems to slow down as I watch my mechanical creation awaken.
A silvery-metal arm extends from the bowels of the device, reaching out of a sliding hatch. The arm, like a jointed snake, dips down from the machine, nearing me ever closer.
`` Yes,'' I say as the arm advances. `` Yes!''
The arm dives with excruciating, slow precision. Its single, pointed claw begins to extend...
... and it flicks the switch off.
At once, the arm retracts into the hatch. The whir of gears slows, and stops completely. The electrical hum dies to silence. The machine has successfully turned itself off.
Once this registers in my mind, my mouth splits in a fervid, gleeful grin.
`` Wait until the science nerds at CERN take at a look at this!''
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[ WP ] Its the first day of school at Hogwarts . Harry Potter is sitting on the chair with the sorting hat on his head . He repeats the word `` Gryffindor '' over and over in his mind . The sorting hat pauses and then yells `` Slytherin '' .
| In utter shock and disbelief, Harry's eyes caught that of Draco and his goons, all of them smirking in delight. Draco muttered words which Harry could n't hear, though he could imagine they were likely things awaiting him once he was left alone in Slytherin's common room.
Walking down the steps, Harry had a burning desire to rip off the hat which has effectively doomed his future in Hogwarts with one single word. The disappointment in the eyes of Ron and Hermione only sparked the temptation further.
With heavy steps, Harry walked towards the sea of green robes, feeling all eyes on him with every step. He glanced at an empty spot towards the very end of the long chair and made his way there, but not before Crabbe and Goyle sandwiched him between their shoulders as he walked past.
Harry sat alone, oblivious to the sound of the Sorting Hat deciding the fate of the next student and the roar from the rest of the crowd. He was all alone in the nest of vipers.
`` Perhaps Uncle Vernon's closet was not a bad place after all'', he silently thought as tears welled up in his eyes
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[ WP ] `` There 's a shotgun in the trunk . Take it , and find him . ''
| The forked trail shined with dew as the moon showed bright in the sky. Light fell muffled by the overhead trees on thick grass and shining spiderwebs. The man panned the shotgun down each trail before lowering it and stepping forward. His face tilted forward as he studied the ground looking for hints of the man's flight; a path of footsteps devoid of dew betrayed the retreat. He moved down the right trail and away from the vehicle sitting quietly on the gravel road with its driver quietly watching the man disappear into the forest.
An owl softly hooted in the distant. The darkness grew as the leaves overhead pressed against the sky. Each footfall echoed in the man's ears as leaves and branches crunched and snapped with his weight. With every step, he paused and his breath caught. With every step, he expected the night to light with gunfire.
Leaves ruffled quickly in the underbrush drawing the shotgun up in the darkness. The rustling paused before darting ahead of the man and revealing a fat, gray opossum. He almost fired. His finger pressed weight against the trigger, but held the fatal mistake short. To fire would be to draw fire.
He eased forward. One slow step after another. Ambush looming in the dark. He paused. Moonlight sparkled in the distance; a glint showed on the dew of a spider web stretched across the trail. He went to step again and stopped. He had n't walked through any spiderwebs; the man he followed had cleared them all. He studied the dark scene ahead.
Trees shined silver, grass moved slightly in a breeze, and a tree lay felled to the side of the path. The barrel of the shotgun aimed into the darkness and looked for sign of the waiting man. A shape showed unnatural along the fallen trunk; a hump grew halfway down the length of the log. The hump wavered in the darkness and rose slightly revealing the shape of a man.
The shotgun fired.
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[ WP ] All of the other superhero 's laugh at your superpower . Today your superpower saves the day .
| They all laugh.
They have always laughed, at least ever since my power was discovered. All the boys that could fly and have super strength, the ones with flexibility, telekinesis, and even invisibility. They all thought mine was pointless, and that I did n't deserve any power. I was still obsessed with researching superheroes and villains, dreaming of what I could've been.
Who knew the one boy that wanted more than anyone else to save the day, to be the hero, would get the power to expand pasta. Yes, you're probably laughing at it now. As my school days went by, then my college years, and throughout most of my adulthood I watched as all my peers were the heroes. The ones that stopped the bad guys, like I always dreamed of. They laughed.
At least, until May 25th, 2468. I was working early in the morning at my average job, drinking my average coffee, thinking about my average life. I had to work there, I was n't a hero like all the others, I was a person. Nobody else was at the office, it was still dark outside.
Suddenly, a tremendously large man burst through the office door, heaving as he brushed the splintered pieces of wood off of himself. I cowered, crouching under my desk, because I knew who that was. He was Hybrelly, one of the most wanted supervillain terrorists in the world. He was known for targeting civilians and public places, devouring all the food he could find, and next devouring the people. I had some time to get positioned quietly under my desk, and I moved my chair to hide me. I remembered from my research that he would first find the food, so I assumed he was in the break room, eating from our fridge. My lunch was the only one in there.
Hybrelly moved around the office, looking for workers. It was only a matter of time before he found me. Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in my head, and I knew what had to be done. I stood up from my hiding spot. When Hybrelly turned to face me, with that sickening grin on his face, I looked him dead in the eyes.
`` Do n't *ever* eat my leftover spaghetti.''
His stomach started expanding, and the look of fear in his eyes told me to keep going. It was getting bigger and bigger, until Hybrelly exploded in a burst of blood and guts as I shielded my eyes.
They all laughed. But not on May 25th. On May 25th, *I* was the hero.
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[ WP ] You introduce someone to 7 of your friends , but each one of your friends are a perfect example of one of the Seven Deadly Sins .
| *Good thing I just finished with Fullmetal Alchemist, otherwise I would have had to look these up. *
“ So, babe, these are my friends, ” Casey said to his girlfriend, Monica.
A fat man gnawed on a chicken leg, sticking out a single greasy hand.
“ Nice to meet you, ” Bob said. “ You smell good. Reminds me of the smell of an apple for some reason. Actually, carmel apples sound pretty darn good right now. ”
Monica grabbed a napkin off the wrought-iron table and wiped her hand off. She shivered a bit, disgusted by the grease that had been on there.
She watched a man standing a far ways away, talking to some woman and acting like she wasn ’ t even there.
“ Don ’ t mind Andrew, ” Casey told her. “ He ’ s, well he ’ s a bit special. He won ’ t greet you unless you greet him first. He seriously needs to grow up. ”
“ Alright, ” Monica replied hesitantly, not really sure what to make of that.
“ I love those shoes, ” Lisa remarked, walking over to them. “ And that dress. So beautiful. ”
“ Thanks, ” Monica replied, finally not disgusted by one of his friends. That was until she ran her hands a little too seductively over Casey ’ s body. Casey, in the meantime, had a dumb smile on his face, completely ignorant of what was happening. Typical, Monica thought. Just like a man to not even realize that a woman was practically throwing herself at them.
“ Actually, we should probably take a seat over there with my other friends, ” Casey said, looking over towards the couple sitting at a table a few feet away. “ It ’ s their engagement party after all. ”
“ You ’ re going to get the bill, right? ” Bill said as Casey and Monica sat down. To Monica ’ s surprise, he was completely serious.
“ You are one cheap bastard, aren ’ t you? ” Casey replied with a wry smile.
“ He sure is, and thrifty too, ” Jenna added. “ Of course, when he sees something he wants, he wastes all of his money on it. I swear, my fiancé has zero impulse control. ”
The day went on, and Monica was enjoying herself. Bill and Jenna were a surprisingly delightful couple to hang out with. She didn ’ t particularly care for the fact that Greed sneakily swept the silverware into Jenna ’ s purse, but she overlooked it. He seemed like a nice, fun guy.
“ Did you know we used to date, ” Jenna told Monica later that night at Casey ’ s home. Casey and Bill were out on an errand.
“ You and Casey? ” Monica replied innocently.
“ Yep, ” Jenna smiled. She moved closer to Monica. Suddenly she was leaning in, her hands on Monica ’ s face, pulling her into a kiss.
Monica almost fought it. She really did. But a fire ignited in her. The thrill of getting away with such a thing, right under everyone ’ s noses at that, kept her hooked. Her lips had barely touched Jenna ’ s when the front door swung open and the guys walked in. She expected them to be irate. But they smiled and cheered. The sudden desire was gone, but now Jenna was making out with her, all to the pleasure and applause of the men standing there.
After a few seconds they stopped and the men went into the kitchen.
“ Another time, perhaps without these pesky men, ” Jenna whispered seductively.
Monica was going to tell her no, but then Bill came out and suddenly that fire, that passion for Jenna, burned in her again. She smiled a wicked smile and gave Jenna a wink.
As Casey and Monica said goodbye, walking back to Casey ’ s car, a large man ran up and hit Casey straight in the jaw. He kept hitting him.
“ Stop! ” Monica yelled, not realizing that was Ben, her exboyfriend.
“ We ’ re best friends, how could you? ” Ben yelled.
“ Sorry, I guess? ” Casey said. “ Come on, you don ’ t care that much, do you? ”
“ I just wanted to beat you up I guess, ” Ben said.
As he walked away, Monica was left speechless. In fact, she didn ’ t say anything all the way back to Casey ’ s house. He definitely had some weird friends. She still found herself thinking about Jenna, even though she would be marrying Casey in only a week.
As they walked up to the front door, a man was laid back against it, snoring.
“ Dan, wake up you lazy ass! ” Casey shouted. The man stirred, then slowly extended a hand to Monica.
“ Dan ’ s the name, ” he said. “ Sorry about being late. I guess I ’ ll get going now. ”
Dan got up and slowly staggered his way away from the house. He practically seemed drunk.
“ There ’ s one last thing, ” Casey said as they settled in bed.
“ What? ” Monica asked, thoughts of Jenna running through her mind. It took her a second to see the flames radiating from Casey ’ s side of the bed. She let out a large scream as she saw him, deformed with red skin, horns sticking out of his head.
“ Honey, ” he said in a deep, demonic voice. “ I ’ m horny. ”
-361
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[ WP ] you go to the doctor for the first time in 10-15 years for a check up , you suddenly find out through a series of tests that there is no way you should be alive
| “ Trying to remember the last time I saw you here Dennis ” he chuckled, looking through the notes on the screen in front. “ You had a few appointments with the asthma clinic you never turned up to, has everything been fine? ” He gave me that look, the look only a trained doctor can give – that questioning, caring, empathetic gaze which lowers those barriers everyone usually has.
I glanced up, “ I don ’ t really like coming to the doctors. I know it sounds childish but I don ’ t like the idea of medicine. Like the idea that there are chemicals, that we as people think is fine to use one year, but then dangerous the next. ” I realised I was rambling, and smiled apologetically “ Basically I just don ’ t usually feel all that unwell, and even when I do I just let my body deal with it, you know? ”
My explanation seemed to satisfy him, “ Alright then, so what made you come to this checkup when you ’ ve missed so many in the past? ” I glanced at my watch, I needed to hurry this up.
“ I just got back from holiday, doc. We were backpacking across Asia, me and Lisa- “
“ Lisa? ” he cut in, curiosity evident in his voice.
“ Oh yeah, keep forgetting how long it ’ s been. My wife, Lisa. She ’ s fine, nags me too much but hey that ’ s life I guess ” a grin slipped unto my face as I continued. “ Yeah she ’ s the reason I ’ m here to be honest with you, she said if I didn ’ t come in I was sleeping on the sofa from now on. So what happened was, I decided to go adventuring on my own, and got bit by a massive mosquito. I hadn ’ t thought about getting immunisations and stuff, like it just seemed unnecessary and now… well now she ’ s worried I have malaria or something, you know how women worry. ”
He leant forward, and started typing away something into what I assume were my patient notes. “ Well that ’ s definitely something that would be a worry. Now I ’ m just going to take a blood sample, and we ’ ll let you know if anything comes back. Until then, don ’ t share your food with others, as just a precaution, and don ’ t donate blood in the intrim. ”
I ’ d resigned myself to the fact that I would have to have blood taken, but that didn ’ t stop me flinching when the needle pierced my flesh, and I tensed from head to toe. He handed me a cotton bud to stop the bleeding, before he gasped. “ Dennis your arm! There ’ s not a mark on it! ” he nearly shouted, stopping to compose himself. “ I mean, well that definitely healed faster than usual, or maybe I ’ ve just managed to reach the next level in needle mastery ” he chuckled to himself, and I forced myself to laugh too. He talked me through the process, and told me it would probably be a few weeks until I heard anything back.
The next week was uneventful, dropping the kids off, shopping, and a night out with a few of my high school friends ( one of those reunions you can ’ t really say no to ). I was just laying on my sofa, head propped up with a pillow, rewatching old South Park episodes when the phone rang. The home phone.
You see the home phone NEVER rings. I mean everyone has mine and my wifes mobile numbers, and for most services we ’ ve only given our mobile numbers. It ’ d gotten to the point me and Lisa were thinking of cancelling it altogether. Very intrigued as to who would be on the other end of the line, I dashed to the phone and picked it up.
“ Hey ” I answered.
“ Hi Dennis ” I immediately recognised the voice on the other end. It was Dr. Peterson, but why was he calling me? “ This might be a bit strange, but your blood results came back. We don ’ t know whats going on. The blood sample we took, had somehow built a protective layer around it, and it took us a while to even be able to work out how to analyse the blood. I don ’ t want to lose you with the science, but your blood is unique. You have cells that… that we didn ’ t even think were possible. It ’ s truly incredible. It ’ s fantastic. The cures we could- “
“ Doc you ’ re scaring me. ” By this point I was truly lost. How was he going to call me up and instead of talking about whether or not I have a disease, he was talking about unique blood, and cures. It made no sense. It must be his idea of a joke. Hell, doctors must get bored of people coming in with colds, and sore throats.
“ Oh I ’ m sorry Dennis. Your blood has a unique cell type that seems to freeze any type of harmful pathogen or cancerous growth. You have malaria. You even have HIV. It ’ s truly incredible. There ’ s insignificant amounts of both diseases in your blood but it hasn ’ t done anything. They haven ’ t affected you. They can ’ t spread. Now to stop beating around the bush I ’ d like to ask you to come in for a few further tests sometime? Maybe when- “ the door knocked, and acting on impulse I hung up the phone. It was too much to take in. Was I even human then? What makes a person human?
Before I could get lost in my thoughts, the door knocked again. I decided to just ignore it, until they knocked again, almost banging on the door. I stood up, and shuffled slowly to the door. I inched it open, and saw two men wearing suits. My house isn ’ t a fancy neighbourhood, the suits seemed so out of place, especially in this weather. “ Mr. Bradley? ” I nodded, “ We ’ re going to have to ask you to come with us. ” It wasn ’ t a question, it was a statement. What had I managed to get myself into?
If anyone wants to read some of my other work ( I'm still fairly new ) check out /r/KNDwrites
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[ wp ] Make a character with as much sympathy as possible . Now , in a realistic and non-over the top manner , make me lose all sympathy for them .
| Gary's father always made sure to let him know that he was the reason his life was shit due to his wife dying while giving birth to him. If you ask anyone who knows Gary they will all agree that bruises were almost like tattoos on his skin. They never left.
His childhood was a living hell yet he swore to himself that he would transform all the abuse he was receiveing into examples of what he should never do to another human being.
When he turned 15 his father was drunker than usual and beated Gary up so much that he had to spent 3 days in the hospital. Gary did not want to comeback to his home after that, he was terrified. After taking a deep breath he went to the police station just to get completely ignored by the officers.
Gary's situation was hopeless, he had been wandering the city for 3 days with no safe place to stay and starving. Suddenly, walking down the street he came across a place were people fed the homeless. He ate as much as they allowed him to. An old lady who voluntereed there offered him to stay in her home if he was willing to help her feed the homeless. Gary agreed instantly, a warm bed was all he wanted.
Five years went by, Gary's father went to jail for almost killing another man in a bar fight. Gary took the chance and came back to his old home, horrifying memories came back to him when he opened the door but after a month he was now somewhat comfortable.
Everyday he would go to the shelter to help the old lady that saved his life, he became loved by the regular homelesses because of his empathy and surprising ability to cook.
One day, a recognised chef from the city decided to cook in the shelter for charity. He ended up mesmerized and astonished by Gary's cooking. So much that he offered a job in his restaurant. The abused yet lovely kid accepted with tears in his eyes, he would finally earn enough money to make his dream come true, open his own homeless shelter.
That night he went to sleep with a wide smile. At 4 AM in the morning a dog's bark interrupted his deep sleep. He went outside kicked the dog in the stomach until it shut up. He came back to sleep like nothing happened. He had the best sleep of his life. Gary woke up, made himself a cup of coffee, sat on his chair and looked out the window just to see the dog laying dead just across the street. He kept drinking his coffee a smirk drew in his face.
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[ WP ] She was almost beautiful .
| She was almost beautiful. She lay below us still, warm and curved and welcoming, but in my heart I already knew it was over. She had been our first. Of course, we'd had a few dalliances close to home - a tentative touch here, a short overnight stay there - but she had been our first since leaving the place of our birth. She had been the first one that visiting felt like coming home.
We had left our comfortable hearth to be with her, setting out in our youth with little more than a few vague promises and a picture to remind us of her beauty. As we traveled, living and dying and striving in our ships, she whispered to us, and we saw and heard only her beauty: Her sensuous oceans. Her ample grasslands. Her rich, joyous atmosphere, curving up like the brightest and most welcoming smile humanity had ever seen.
There were signs that what we saw was only the idealism of innocence - A string of craters, like tract marks down her left continent. The angry hiss of static when we were less gentle talking with her. Her sudden outbursts of violence, from tectonics with the stability of a teenage girl's angst. We saw them, but they only made her more beautiful to us, for we could overcome them. We could be the one she needed; the one to heal her. Oh! for the wisdom of experience - but she was our first.
When we had finally arrived, full of hope and exhaustion, she was everything we dreamed. She welcomed our touch when our shuttles brought us to her pale and delicate surface. She hummed at the gentle embrace of our satellite networks. We were *alive* with the joy of new love, of great hope, and of impossible dreams. And so we began to build a home together, to live our life together.
But like many young loves, ours was not to be. The eruptive outbursts of her youth lost their charm as their true cost became clear. She had been dishonest, too, we learned when our gentle and loving probing left us suffering the pangs of embarrassing disease. And we, too, had failed her in our adolescence: Open pit mines stood a testament to our broken promises of gentleness. Our own setting upon each other, vows to be better than our nature now that we were with her forgotten in the complacency of routine.
Still we stayed, long past when we should have gone, for we could not shake ourselves free of our dreams of her. How many of her sins and ours could we forget, staring deep into the clear blue depths of her lakes, and cultivating her rich fertile soil? Too many.
But in the end, her betrayal had been complete. Now the missiles of the Other reach out to our ships like the swinging fists of a cuckold husband. We claimed to the Other not to have known, to have been innocent. But in our hearts we knew we had n't wanted to know. The price we pay may yet be absolute, and yet it feels trivial weighed against the lost dreams - against the lost love.
She was almost beautiful. And we had almost deserved her.
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[ WP ] Humans have finally made contact , but the aliens are n't humanoid . Describe how they built an interstellar empire without hands .
| There's a thing that happens when you jump into a too-cold pool on a hot day. If you've done it, you know what I'm talking about. You might even have experienced something similar getting out of a mercifully warm car on a frigid day, assuming you're close enough to either pole to get a respectable winter. Your whole being goes into lockdown for an instant.
Meeting an Interstitial is kind of like that, only worse.
It does n't help to remind yourself that they straddle the third and fourth dimensions. It does n't help to remind yourself that they ca n't really read minds. It helps a little bit to drink, but it also increases the risk of their ceaseless, amorphous oozing giving you motion sickness.
The Interstitials come from either very far away or right next door, depending on how many dimensions you can perceive. The selective pressures of their home world necessitated an awareness of the three dimensions humans know and love as well as a fourth. From our perspective, the Interstitials appear as one or more shifting masses. Sometimes they float and sometimes they squish against the floor or walls or ceiling. Their real bodies - the ones hanging out of our world and into that unknowable other - have at least six limbs that correspond more or less to our legs. You can never, ever see a whole Interstitial but if you're lucky ( or very, very unlucky; how strong is your stomach? ) you might see one mashing itself more fully into our dimension. You see, all an Interstitial can show you is a three-dimensional `` footprint'' of their four-dimensional self.
The U.N. Council on Exodimensional Relations frowns upon characterizations of the Interstitial home world as `` a nightmare of twisted horrors,'' `` a nausea-inducing hellscape,'' or `` what they would put in the dictionary next to'FUBAR', assuming you could take a picture of how FUBAR it really is. You ca n't take a picture of a feeling or a smell, and none of you know how lucky you are for it.'' The U.N. Council on Exodimensional Relations reminds us that the opinions and testimonies of all human visitors to the Interstitial home world are subjective, and that hardly anyone has been rendered permanently insane by their trip. I'm legally required to include that disclaimer and it did n't fit anywhere else.
'How did the Interstitials get here from there?' I imagine you asking. That's a good question, and it's hard to answer. Their spacecraft naturally extend beyond the third dimension. What we humans can see looks something like an Interstitial of massive proportions who learned to stop constantly undulating. There are no hallways or doors to speak of inside; rather, the interior suggests a tangled web. The whole thing feels organic and raw. Human passengers have reported inexplicable nausea and headaches, accompanied by explicable nausea and headaches induced by transient gusts of ozone, ammonia and sulfur. The Interstitials have been very tight-lipped about their design and construction. I think I know why.
Interstitials shit spaceships.
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[ WP ] After returning home from a long day of work you find that your key won ’ t open the front door . Upon peeking through the window you see a family you ’ ve never met before sitting down to a freshly cooked dinner .
| ( First response to a writing prompt ever, constructive criticism please )
Kevin arrived home and plodded to the door. Sales had been killing him from the inside for years. Tired legs carried him to the front door. he could n't find the key, probably lost in his pockets somewhere. However he could n't shake the feeling something felt off, it had him on edge. Perhaps it was the cold, he absently wondered. A sharp giggle, like that of a young child snapped him from his reverie.
Kevin lived alone.
Looking up through the textured glass of his front door he saw there were far too many lights on, he always made a point to make sure all the lights were off. There were three figures inside, one was much larger than the others. There was a muffled murmur of conversation as the figures prepared what looked like dinner. The smell of a hot, fresh pasta bake took him back years in a second to a childhood of wonder and happiness, now lost in the doldrums of mediocrity.
He backed away from the front door, as he fell into the drivers seat in the purple sedan he took out his ID and examined the address, the words seemed to stretch and morph, not content to lie still. The address still matched though. Perhaps he was n't totally insane yet. Then who was inside? Robbers? Cousins up for a visit? His confidence renewed ( But more confused than ever ) he strode to the front door and knocked.
*Taptaptaptaptap tap tap*
There was no response from within, he tried again.
*Taptaptaptaptap tap tap*
Still nothing.
If there was to be no response from the front door, he would enter through the back. After all, it was his house. He walked around the right side of the house, past gardens that were a little overdue for some weeding and maintenance. the figures inside were inaudible now, the silence was eerie. He briefly considered the wood splitter in the shed, but decided against it. No robbers would bring their family in for tea after all.
He rounded the corner and walked up his back porch, the dining room would be visible if he continued along the porch, but the large glass sliding door was the only one on the porch. Entering his home, he looked to the right.
There was a family of three sitting for dinner. At the head of the table was a beautiful woman with auburn hair and deep blue eyes, her two children, who could n't have been over 10 sat opposite each other. They had failed to inherit their mothers hair, instead the first had her hair pulled back in a brown ponytail. the second child had not bothered with styling, leaving a scraggly mop of brown hair atop his head.
`` Hello?'' he asked, none of this was making sense
The woman turned and stared at him, mouth agape
`` You ca n't be here'' she curtly said
`` I do n't think you understand ma'am, this is my house'' he replied confidently
Taking him by the arm she led him outside
`` It was your house, you live somewhere else now'' she muttered
`` Was?'' he recanted
`` Kevin, what day is it?'' she asked tenderly
`` Tuesday, How do you know my name?'' he demanded
She gazed deeply at him with the piercing blue eyes of someone who had known the greatest love the world could give. They were the eyes of someone who had that love rent and taken from them, broken to pieces and incinerated in hellfire. Tears dripped down her cheeks, she embraced him and whispered the most painful words he had heard in his life
Shocked, he stared down at the band on his wrist.
`` It was an accident, an 18 year old behind the wheel with a BAC of 0.15. He survived, but you had some major trauma to the cranium. The doctors did their best, but it was very severe. I'm sorry'' she croaked, it was all she could do.
A white van pulled into the driveway.
|
[ WP ] Assuming Reddit is still available at the time , write a Reddit Thread that is active during World War 3 .
| ( no account names. Best not confuse anyone. )
**Breaking News: Federation of the Americas invades China, North Korea and Iran**
As of 4:18 GMT, the Federation of the Americas ( not to be confused with the United States of America ) has invaded the People's Republic of China, the Islamic Republic of Iran, and the Democratic People's Republic of Korea.
Links:
cnn.com/invasion-live-updates
nbc.com/federation-invades-china
bbc.co.uk/live-feed-3820
foxnews.com/invasion
Comments:
Saw the fleet moving weeks ago. I would n't be surprised.
They really did it. They really did it.
Is this the start of WWIII?
Wow. My phone was chirping and it woke me up to this.
I'm in Hong Kong right now. I'm hearing some scattered gunfire. I think about twenty planes have flown past my apartment, though.
Asian Union has released a statement. They're calling for general war on China.
I'm near an airbase in Japan. Sounds like aircraft are taking off.
You have been banned from /r/Pyongyang.
Well, the norks have had it coming for a long time.
You have been banned from /r/Pyongyang.
Wow. Wow. I hope I do n't get drafted, here in the US.
Fox has an update. Saudis have declared war in Iran. Israel has declared official neutrality.
I wonder if Russia will join in?
Russians just did a press release. They're invading Manchuria and North Korea.
Anybody got a guess on how long the countries under attack will hold out?
Not too long, I think. China has a hopelessly
obsolete military, and the Federation is very
well equipped. Toss in the AU nations and
we're in for a curb stomp.
Why, though? Why would they want to invade
China? We're a decent enough country. Will
anyone help?
Who knows. Europeans are the last major
power to throw their hat in, here. I do n't
think that the US will intervene.
Guys, the President released a statement. He's saying that we are going to remain neutral.
Reports coming in that North Korea is rushing the South Koreans.
Guys, I just heard on the radio that someone set off a nuke! Plz confirm.
Well, I guess this was the wrong day to move to Shanghai.
Well, I guess this was the wrong day to move to Tokyo.
Well, I guess this was the wrong day to move to the Phillipines.
EU has released a statement condemning the attacks. They're mobilizing their forces.
UK mobilizing forces. Border closed, and aircraft grounded.
FoA claims that they've taken Inchon and Hong Kong, and have landed a large force on Hainan.
I'm in Beijing. The internet is starting to cut out. I'm hearing explosions near the government buildings.
Good luck to any redditors in affected countries!
Assuming that all AU nations, the FoA, Russia, Iran, North Korea, and EU+UK are under threat, that constitutes about half of Reddit.
That's a lot of luck.
Today was the wrong day to move to Seoul.
_______________________________________________
I might follow with more later. I hope I did alright.
|
[ WP ] After a man wrongfully spends 25 years in literal hell , he sees something he has never seen before . A door marked `` Exit ''
| The burning tar stuck to my legs as I made my way across the bog. Teeth clenched, I pushed forward, trying to make out the far off letters. It was all I could do not to scream, a mental distraction to ease my suffering.
I'd been walking in circles for months now, since there was little else in the form of entertainment. It was all any of us did, walking. Idle feet lead to idle minds, and idle minds are the most vulnerable. When you have nothing else to think about but your own faults, your own regrets, your own sins, you torture yourself. Save him the trouble, as it were.
So, I resolved to give myself a purpose, much like the other souls lost in this place. I would walk for eternity inside of these circles until the end, whenever that may come.
It was coming. It had to be.
My feet splashed again, and I moved closer to whatever it was. This was my new purpose. After twenty years of walking, I finally knew where I was heading, even though I did n't know how much longer I'd have to go. But eternity is a long time.
It was getting closer now, the wake from this nightmare. It was getting closer every day I stayed here, every step I took.
I could n't be more than half a mile away. Just a few more weeks, and I'd be free from my prison. A smile crossed my face for the first time in twenty-four years. It was so close now. I took another slow step.
The door was coming into sight. I could tell I was close because now I could see it was a door. Above it stood the words in blood-red text. `` EXIT.'' Another step forward. Another. Another.
I was so close now, so close to being free from this hell. The tar gave way to mud, gave way to dirt, gave way to grass. I ran across the empty plane and stumbled to the wooden structure.
EXIT.
EXIT.
I stumbled and collapsed at the heel of the door, panting in the molten air. My eyes scanned over the writing again, and again. There was something written below.
EXIT.
DOES NOT EXIST.
My hand burned when it clasped the handle, and I screamed. I turned the handle but it would not budge. Again and again, I pounded on the door, tears pouring down and evaporating off of my face. What had I done? Why was I here? Why would n't this door open for me? It was my exit, the salvation for my innocent soul. I had been spared! I collapsed in the grass as it blackened into pitch.
For a year I laid there, stoic and silent. When I slept, I dreamt of what was behind that door, when I woke, I'd turn the handle in hopes that it might open. Just like the tortured souls I'd passed along my way, I thought of my faults, regrets and sins. I was never good with people. I was never good to my wife. I was never good to my mistresses either. Maybe I was never good, period. Maybe that's why I was here.
One day I awoke to the sound of music. For twenty five years, I had n't heard a note, but now there was an entire symphony playing, building and rising in a grand crescendo from just a few inches beyond the door. My hand gripped the handle, and it did not burn. It opened for me.
Beyond was a great light, the likes of which I'd never seen, even in my life before this. Pulling myself to my feet, I took a step forward into a shallow, cool pond. As I entered further the door shut behind me, leaving me standing in a river.
I looked across at the others, all standing, looking back at me. Slowly, I made my approach. A small girl was the first to great me.
`` Hello.'' She said. I replied the same.
`` Where am I?'' I asked next.
`` Where sinners go.''
`` What do you mean, where sinners go? Did n't I just come from hell? Are n't I innocent?''
The young girl smiled and took my hand. `` There does not exist an innocent soul. Only those who have repented, and those who have yet to.''
|
[ WP ] Everyone has disappeared but you , you think that everyone is just holding surprise party for you .
| *But wait, why would anyone hold a surprise party for me? It's not even my birthday or anything. Also, I do n't really have a lot of friends, so this does n't make sense*, I thought. I then got into my car and started driving. Eventually I got out of the city. I kept going until I ran out of gas. *It seems everyone is just gone. Am I really the only one here? * — I could n't believe what was happening.
I tried to call my brother, but he never answered. Then my phone turned itself off. I was worried, I was scared, I was angry. I did n't want to be the only one. I refused to accept that as the reality. I started walking, through the middle of nowhere, until I found a little house. It was empty, of course. I got inside, and grabbed a drink from the kitchen. Then I noticed the TV was still on.
I sat on the couch, and passed out while listening to the static. I do n't remember anything else.
|
[ WP ] America was colonised by Spain , not Britain
| `` Too long I have waited, Don Jorge'' Cristobal said with a worried smile on his face.
`` Do n't trouble yourself mijo, It'll only be for a month, maybe less since this time
a year the *molejeros* are not in active patrol'' Don Jorge replied while he was staring at the shipping route map.
*This time a year was ripe for travel and many legal and illegal excursions left out of Ponce de Leon city*.
Cristobal thought leaned over the edge of the wood walkway besides Don Jorge's humble hut.
Don Jorge came from a long family of seariders that had fought in the first Cuban war with the British empire.
He has intimate knowledge of the ocean waters around the eastern coast of Africa and the and a lot of contacts that will help him get a seat in Bocanegra's boat.
Bocanegra is, by far, the most successful smuggler out the coasts of southern India.
He even has operations out of the coast of California. So far only two expeditions have been caught, and most likely due to informers
that somehow found a way into the boats.
How Don Jorge and Bocanegra ever came into contact is still a mystery. A mystery Cristobal is never hoping to solve.
Cristobal had to beg, for many months to Don Jorge, doing all sorts of odd jobs to get the spot he has sorely wanted for years.
All of his brothers had already left and were probably a few days away from Chenningham.
Cristobal knew that even with the *molejeros* on standby mode, the trip was still dangerous.
Just being cramped in that boat in Jesus-knows-what conditions was prime for diseases, storms could ravage the boat to many miles off-course, which was already as far away from the active patrol areas. The pirates are what Cristobal fears the most, it is not uncommon for *balseros* never to be heard from again, Specially at the Johannesburg turn.
Cristobal would've liked a California trip, as the Chinese did n't care if a bunch of *balseros* arrived in India. The patrols
were a lot more lenient, even some of the officers ran operations with Bocanegra.
Cristobal did n't have the means to go through Carolina, through Mexico and finally arrive at California.
Don Jorge could've gotten him a spot on the California Expedition, but the getting there part was up to him.
`` Mijo, you do n't have to go you know. You can stay here and work the fishing boats with me. You are already commiting yourself
to a boat''
`` I have to Don Jorge, there is nothing left for me here.''
`` I understand your position Cristobal, it's been weeks since we heard from your brothers.''
`` You think the last Bocanegra expedition might've been caught?''
`` I ca n't tell for sure, but Bocanegra is the best at his business, his reputation is what brings thousands to do more things of an even questionable
nature, to try to earn a spot in his expeditions.''
`` If you end up deciding to leave, send word with with Marisol. She'll be having you until you board the boat.''
`` Thank you Don Jorge, I will call you as soon as I land in Chenningham.''
`` *Vaya con Jesus, mijo*''
`` *Y usted. *''
Cristobal knew Don Jorge did n't want him to go, but he knew that Bocanegra was the least of all evils. Another random expedition
could have resulted in a midsea abduction.
Marisol was Don Jorge's only daughter, at least the only one he recognized. She moved to Ponce de Leon a few years back to work
in the emerging tourist restaurants of the southern coast of the city. Marisol was almost a female version of Don Jorge, tough as nails and loves water
more than she loves men.
Cristobal would be arriving at Ponce de Leon in three days if the roads were clear of any of the militias opposing the free trade
agreements with India. Government presence was tight in the highways and along the coast, in case threats of fighting erupted. Carolinians were also
worried of a possible aliance with Mexican rebels, although Cristobal thought it might be impossible given the dislike of the two nations. Ever since the Texans decided to
become Mexican instead of Carolinian, tensions have been running high at all sorts of levels. This was another reason the California trip was not a realiable option
for him.
Marisol was waiting for him at the bus stop, she looks like she just got out of work. Her hair was not prettily arranged, not like she cared anyway, and she smelled like
seafood and grease. An oddly familiar smell to Cristobal.
`` My... My... You have grown'' Marisol replied with a picaresque smile.
`` I guess'' Cristobal replied dully. Marisol was not a pretty woman. No amount of sweet talk would make Cristobal want to be
flirtatious with her.
`` Father said you'd be coming today. See any rebels?''
`` Luckily no, a lot of Goverment police though.''
`` Guess fighting erupts at any moment.''
`` When does Bocanegra leave?''
`` Already want to leave?''
`` I just want to be ready.''
`` In that case, life is not what you see in those bollywood movies out in India. Most likely you'll be hiding from immigration for the rest
of your life. If you're clever enough and get some sort of legal status, people will still mistreat you. You'll probably be working second
hand jobs. Even *balserillos* dislike us.''
*Balserios* are the kids of the *balseros* that manage to get a more equal lifestyle to their Indian couterparts. They are notorious
from staying away from *balseros* and balsero culture.
`` I think you are overreacting. Is not as bad as you put it.''
`` There is lot of work and besides my brothers are there.''
`` Brothers you have n't heard of in weeks.''
`` What are you implying?''
`` I'm not implying anything, just being pragmatic. Boats get lost all the time. They should've sent word by now''
`` Marisol, I thank you for your hospitality, but I will go work in India, and make sure I make something of myself and help out my brothers.''
`` If you say so.''
EDIT: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes. Secondly this short prompt just hightlights how I envision a more or less Latinized US.
begin split into three coutries, Carolinas, roughly eatern US, and texas, Mexico ( now includes NM, AZ, CO, NV ) and California ( a more prosperous independent nation ).
|
[ WP ] The Grim Reaper shows up , but only because you 're a fellow nerd and he wants to introduce you to his favorite trading card game .
| It was 12:31 in the morning, and I was browsing the internet on my super-fast PC when I heard a knock on my door.
`` I'm busy babe, go away.'' I switched on some heavy metal in attempt to deter my girlfriend from bothering me any more.
The door opened, and as I glanced over, a tall figure wearing a black hood and holding a sickle entered the room.
`` WHAT THE FUCK!!!'' I yelled, grabbing a knife close to my desk and flinging it towards the stranger. The stranger raised a bony hand and caught the knife.
`` Chill, dude. I'm not here for your soul.'' The stranger put the knife on the desk and placed his sickle against the wall.
`` Do n't you dare touch my girlfriend!'' I reached for my cellphone, but his hand grabbed my wrist. Fear ran through my body.
`` Do you know what my job is?'' The stranger asked frustratingly.
I paused. `` You're the grim reaper, right?''
`` Correct. What does the grim reaper do?''
`` Collects souls?''
`` FINALLY!'' The Grim Reaper replied. `` Someone knows what's up.'' The Grim reaper pulled up a chair and sat down. `` If you know what I do, why did you throw a knife at me?''
I glared at the Grim Reaper. `` You just waltzed into my fucking room, that's why! If you are n't here for me, then are you here for my girlfriend?''
There was a knock on the door, and my girlfriend poked her head inside.
`` Can you turn it down a bit? I'm trying to sleep some.'' She glanced over at the Grim Reaper, who waved his bony hand at her. Her eyes widened with terror, and she screamed. Running towards the kitchen, she brought back a knife and pointed it towards the Grim Reaper.
`` GET AWAY FROM MY BOYFRIEND!!'' She stepped into the room, trying to find the Grim Reaper's eyes. `` I am not afraid to stab you to death!''
The bony hands took off the hood, revealing a skull. `` I'm not here to collect anybody's soul today, OK?'' He raised his hands in the air. `` Please put the knife down, it's making me uncomfortable. What is is with you guys and knives?''
I walked over to my girlfriend and took the knife out of her hand. `` It's ok, honey. If he were here for either of us, one of us would have been dead already.''
`` I am very good at my job, thank you very much.'' The Grim Reaper bowed pleasantly.
After she calmed down, my girlfriend spoke up.
`` If he is n't here for our souls, then what is the Grim Reaper doing here?''
`` I'm so glad you asked!'' He smiled from cheek to cheek, despite the fact that he had no face. `` We fellow nerds need to unite and wallow in our nerd-dom.''
`` So, you're telling me that you are only here because I'm a nerd.'' I pushed my glasses up. `` Tell me what you've got.''
Rummaging through his cloak, the Grim Reaper pulled out a large duffle bag. Placing it on the desk, he unzipped it and pulled out several Magic cards.
`` Are you a big Magic Fan?'' He stared at me with enthusiastic eyes.
My mind raced frantically for a good answer. I had played magic once, but had hated it. I played Warhammer 40K, since a 3D model was much more exciting than a 2D playing card. But could I tell the Grim Reaper that?
I looked at my girlfriend, and her lips said that we needed to go outside.
`` Hey, I got ta go to the restroom,'' she said. Jumping out of my blanket, she quickly rushed outside.
I turned to the grim reaper. `` Would you like some water?''
`` No thanks,'' he replied. `` Thanks for the offer.''
`` Ok, I'm getting something to drink.'' I quickly walked out of the room and into the bathroom, where my girlfriend was standing. I shut the door and turned on the fan.
`` Babe, what am I supposed to do?'' I whispered frantically. `` You know that I hate Magic! How could he not have seen all of my 40K stuff?''
`` What do you expect me to do? I do n't involve myself in your hobby,'' my girlfriend replied. `` He's not here to take our souls, so there is n't anything to worry about. Just tell him the truth!''
`` Why am I so scared to tell him?'' I stressed.
`` Hey, I really needed to go to the restroom, so give me some privacy.'' She pushed me out of the restroom and shut the door.
I walked into my kitchen and grabbed a mug. As I opened the refrigerator, I grabbed some apple juice and poured myself a glass. I pulled out some cheese slices and began to munch on those.
`` Dammit, I have work tomorrow,'' I muttered to myself as I glanced at the time. It was 1:00 now, and I did n't want to keep our guest waiting.
I walked into my room and to my surprise, the Grim Reaper had sprawled his whole card collection across my desk. He smiled back at me.
`` WHAT ARE YOU DOING???'' I yelled at him. `` That is MY desk that you are messing up. I want you to pack up your bags and GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!''
The Grim Reaper was shocked. `` But I did n't even get to show you my foil --''
`` I HATE MAGIC!!! I HATE TRADING CARD GAMES!'' I pulled my hair in frustration. `` If you could n't tell by my room, I have invested ALL of my money into Warhammer 40K.'' I waved my hands in the air, gesturing towards my shelf. `` Plus, it is now 1:00 in the morning, and I have WORK tomorrow. I do n't have time to delve into your hobby, because I already HAVE ONE!''
The Grim Reaper sat in silence, then shoveled all his cards into the duffle bag. He sadly got up, put the hood over his skull, and picked up his sickle. As Julia walked in, she looked surprised as the Grim Reaper walked out.
`` Sorry for keeping you up so late. I'll bring my 40K stuff this weekend.'' The Grim Reaper extended his hand, opening up a dark portal. `` Mark, Julia, it was a pleasure meeting you.'' Waving a sad goodbye, he stepped into it and disappeared with a flash.
`` Mark, what was that about?'' Julia asked. `` He said he was coming back. Are we going to die this weekend?''
I paused, and thought for a moment. `` If he was bringing his 40K stuff, I probably should re-read the rule book. But anyway, goodnight, babe. You should get some sleep too.'' I kissed Julia and shut the door. Shutting off my computer, I turned off the lights and crawled into bed. Had I escaped death, or found a new friend? Regardless, I just hoped that the Grim Reaper would field a painted army, unlike my co-worker who I had played last weekend.
|
[ WP ] You wake up in an insane asylum in the 1920s . As you explore , you notice everyone in your wing claims to have woken up there , but is not from that time . One person lays in bed and refuses to talk to anyone , he was the first person ever accepted into the wing .
| It all started on a Wednesday. It was just a typical Wednesday and there was nothing special at all about it. The sun wasn ’ t shining, the birds weren ’ t chirping, and there sure as hell wasn ’ t anything to suggest that this would be the day my entire life would be changed forever. There was that feeling though. The feeling I ’ ve had my entire life. The feeling that someone, somewhere, was watching me over my shoulder. Observing me. Waiting for the right opportunity to approach me. But for what? My friends called me paranoid when I tell them about this `` feeling'' but you know as well as I do that you've had this feeling too. The feeling that something is sitting just over your right shoulder and you can feel them there. But then you turn around and... Nothing.
I was walking down 4th ave when I saw it. It was sitting on a table outside one of those outdoor cafés. A letter, with nothing but the words, “ read this Mark ” on it. I ’ m not even sure why I it drew my attention, or why I picked it up. It could have been for anyone named Mark ( This is New York City, there ’ s a million Marks ). Come to think of it, why hadn ’ t anyone else picked it up before me? After I grabbed it, I didn ’ t know if I should have sat right down and read it, or ran home with it. There I go again, with the whole paranoia thing. “ Ok, Calm down Mark, your tripping out, and you need to relax man ” Said the friendly little voice inside my head. I put the letter in my pocket, and started walking home with it, trying to draw as little attention to myself as possible.
I sat down on my couch and put the letter down on the coffee table in front of me. My mind began to wander from place to palce, and my focus grew wein and tired. This happened quite a bit, everytime I sat down for too long, or grew complacent in any task I was doing. I've gotten it checked out before, and the doctors always tell me it's nothing. `` Just drink some water to calm down'' they say, `` It's probably just caused by anxiety and stress''. I try and tell them that this is different, that something is fundamentally wrong with my mind, but they never listen. It was soon thereafter that I walked over to the fridge to get some water to calm my pacing heart, and as I began pouring water into the cup I was now holding, I noticed another note attached to it. “ It's time to read the letter, Mark ”. I don ’ t need to tell you what went through my mind the next 10 minutes, before I finally did get around to opening up that letter.
I was expecting a few paragraphs telling me what was going on, but all I was given was 4 haunting sentences. “ Do you remember where you were from 1918 to 1920, Mark? Do you remember what happened to you? Because I do. And if your ready, I can show you ”.
That ’ s all it said. It would be quite impossible for me to remember what I was doing during those years, because it was 60 years before I was born. As a matter of fact, it was 30 years before even my Father was born.
Ok, whoever you are, I ’ m ready. `` IM READY!!'' I screamed. nothing. Well, that was pointless. My friends and I are accustom to playing pranks on each other, but they have always been light hearted. Never anything this... eerie. They also understand how paranoid I can be and are sensitive towards it. What fun is a prank if everyone does n't laugh afterwards, right? No, this does n't feel like my friends at all.
I walked over to where I keep my phone, thinking that maybe I can call some people I know that might be behind this or at the very least, can help me find out who is. I open the drawer and I see a book that I ’ m sure wasn ’ t there before. Its hard to explain, but this book looks very old and used, but it also looks as if it was taken care of... Like it was a very valuable possesion for someone. On the front cover, it said, `` The Diary of a man'', written in what im sure is really old blood. I skim through it real quick and see every entry starts with a day number and words written in pencil. There are long entries and short entries. I felt the ever growing bubble of anxiety in my chest, taking over my mental functioning and reasoning. All I knew, and the only thing I could make sense of, was that I needed to open that book and read it. I opened it to the first page and the writing looked... familiar. But I had no time for that, I needed to read the book and figure out whats going on.
Day 4: WHO ARE YOU? LET ME GO
Day 5: I know you took this from me last night. I know it. WHO ARE YOU?
Day 6: whoever might read this: Please help me. Im trapped in this room. It has no windows, only a bed, a sink, a toilet, a clock.. and this book. One of the walls is a big mirror. I know someone's on the other side looking at me. PLEASE LET ME OUT.
day 7: I dont understand whats going on. At 8am and 5pm someone slides food through the little small opening on the bottom of the door. Atleast the food is good, they keep serving me fishsticks. I love fish sticks. PLEASE LET ME GO.
Day 8: nothing makes sense to me anymore. im stuck in nothingness. Nothing happens. I eat twice a day, but no one say a thing. All I ever see is the one hand that slides the food through twice a day. I yell but I know its no help. I ’ ve yelled every single time and no one answers. No one ever answers.
Day 9: fishsticks for lunch and fish sticks for dinner are getting old quick.
this goes on, day after day. I can see whats going on here. But who is this guy? Why do I have this? Nothing makes sense. I cant read every entry, I needed to know what was going on quick.
Day 30: I fucking cant do this anymore. My life is nothing. I can ’ t leave my mind. Its all I have. And this book. do you know how slow your life becomes when you stare at a clock and say every second out loud for 4 hours straight? I have nothing.
I skipped a few more pages.
Day 54: I dont know how I got here. I... cant really remember where I was or what I was doing before I got here. I remember being at home, cooking dinner, than something hit me. I know it hit me in the back of the head because I could still feel it when I woke up in here. I feel like they have total control over my mind. I feel like they have erased some memory of mine... A memory that is very important to me understanding why I am here. You know who Im talking about. The people behind the mirror. I can feel them everyday. Watching me, observing me.
I skip a few more pages still.
Day 79: I deserve to be here. I alienated everyone that ever tried to get into my life. I havent talked to my parents in years. The girlfriends ive had, ive lost... Always my fault. Does anyone even know im gone? Are they even looking for me? I doubt it. I am just a man who disapeared, and no one even noticed.
A few more pages..
Day 104: FUCK YOU FISH STICKS! I FUCCKING HATE YOU.
I just dont really understand whats going on. Im about to put the diary down and smoke a bowl, when the page next page catches my eye, and it felt like someone had ripped my heart out of my chest.
( be back in 20 minutes to finish this, got to finish up some thing at work ).
|
[ WP ] When you die and go to heaven . You a permitted to view the regular world through the pictures taken of you in your life . Almost as if the pictured are like little cameras you can view . You randomly select a picture of you and find yourself to be looking at a very unusual and unfamiliar place .
| `` Welcome, brother. I see that you have arrived at your final destination,'' boasted Saint Peter.
`` What about my family, friends?''
Peter smiles and nods his head, halo shimmering as he does so. `` Let me show you something.''
Peter takes my hand and guides me through the pristine arches. It's quiet, a peaceful calm that floats gracefully in the air. I ca n't see any other souls or angels but I know I'm not alone.
We enter a grand hall, something out of a fairytale. Gold and silver so bright that I can barely keep my eyes open. Peter leads me to a table in the center of the room. A photo album rests alone.
`` Go ahead,'' proclaimed Peter.
I slowly opened the leather bound album. The first page held a photo of a woman in a hospital bed holding a baby. I had to squint for my eyes to focus on the page.
`` And you know who that is, right?'' asked Peter.
`` This is my mother holding me when I was born.''
I flipped through more pages, memories flooding back, reliving each and every moment of my life. Birthdays, family get-togethers, vacations. They were all here contained in this photo album.
Another page turned. `` What is this?'' I asked.
`` Ahh, yes.'' remarked Peter. His interest peaked.
The picture seemed over-exposed, too much light. It was of me and someone I could n't quite make out. We were standing close, hands clasped tight. `` Saint Peter, who is this? Where is this?''
`` It's a funny thing. You can find little pieces of heaven everywhere, even on Earth.''
I looked at Peter and slowly closed the album. He made the slightest gesture with his head. I turned and saw a beautiful angel in white standing close by. As I approached she began to smile. She took my hand. Tears were streaming down my face.
`` I thought I'd never see you again,'' I said.
We hug.
`` I told you to come find me when the time came.''
I now knew that my world was complete. I held her tight as I caressed the ring on her finger. She did the same.
|
[ WP ] A board of directors of a corporation are plotting a fake alien invasion to cover up an environmental disaster . Unbeknownst to them , a group of real aliens is using the fake invasion as cover for their real invasion .
| The morning was overcast, a confusing illusion of alternating brights and darks that made everyone waking up straighten in panic at the *afternoon light* shining through their window. The first licks of fall crisp peppered at the window of a taxi puttering through crowded streets, stray medleys of red and golden leaves crackling under the tires ’ tread. Inside it a woman was adjusting her corrective lenses, craning her neck over a slight stain on the passenger seat in front of her to peer out ahead.
“ Turn here, please? ” She asked.
The driver nodded, making a sharp right in to the entrance of an alley lined with multistory layers of graying brick and concrete.
“ How much? ” She inquired, opening the gleaming black leather of her handbag.
“ Twenty-two, ” huffed the driver, “ but this isn ’ t where you wanted to go, ma ’ am. ”
“ It ’ s fine, ” she said, handing him a bill.
From outside, someone would have seen two things of interest: a middle-aged woman wearing business attire stepping awkwardly out of a taxi, preparing to carry her handbag and a single briefcase in to the shaded uncertainty of a Chicago back-alley; a taxi driver, staring equally with suspicion and shock at a fresh one-hundred-dollar bill.
“ Ma ’ am, ” the driver said with annoyance, “ this is too much. I can ’ t break this. ”
“ Oh, ” she said, adjusting her glasses again to peer at the bill, “ is that a bad thing? ”
The driver thought about this. His conscience wrestled with his suspicion, until avarice jumped in to the fray and stole the victory.
“ No, ” he said, “ that ’ s fine. Have a pleasant day miss... miss... ”
The woman opened the handbag with a flicking wrist, briefly glancing at its contents. The driver ’ s face fell by a fraction of an astronomical unit.
“ Mrs. Scharre, ” she said, closing the handbag. “ Have a niceness day. ”
Mrs. Scharre winced at the linguistic error, closed the door, and walked off at a brisk *step-step-wobble-step*. The driver took no notice, and sped off before she changed her mind.
Ten minutes later Mrs. Scharre was sitting at the end of a conference table, unclasping her briefcase and spreading its contents on its laminated surface in neatly ordered stacks. It spanned nearly the length of an intensely lit room within the fourth floor of a wan office complex. Sitting to her left, a man in a gray jacket with brown hair on its way to silver leaned in closer to her.
“ They ’ re late, ” he covertly whispered, “ again. ”
She stopped, considering this, and continued her preparations.
“ They are consistent, ” she said with a monotone, “ and that is what I like. ”
The office ’ s double doors opened with a hollow creak. A casually dressed man with a tan messenger bag strapped to his shoulder peered in and around the inside.
“ You ’ re Mrs. Scharre, right? ” The newcomer asked, his sharp eyes darting between the two.
“ Yes, ” she said, not looking up.
“ Awesome, ” he said, “ I ’ m Tony. We spoke on... ”
“ I ’ m aware of who you are, ” she interrupted, “ take a seat in the appropriate place. ”
She blinked, stopped her shuffling, and gave a quick side-long glance to the man on her left, and then Tony. Tony cocked an eyebrow, and sat on the opposite side without comment. She cleared her throat, and began to read from a thick pile she ’ d made to her right. The man to Mrs. Scharre ’ s left stood up, leaning over the table to extend a hand.
“ Don ’ t mind her, ” he apologized, “ she ’ s grumpy in the morning. I ’ m Gary. ”
“ Glad to meet you, ” Tony said, returning the hand with a firm shake.
They sat retook their seats. Silence ensued, broken only by the turning of Mrs. Scharre ’ s pages.
“ So, ” Tony awkwardly offered, “ is there anyone else coming? ”
Gary glanced at a watch on his wrist.
“ Any minute now, but we can start. First I ’ ll need you to sign some... ”
Mrs. Scharre ’ s hand shot out in front of Tony with a packet. She dropped it, and went back to turning.
“... Things. A non-compete, non-disclosure – basically everything we need to save our collective skins. ” He finished, casting her an annoyed look.
Tony blinked. He blinked again.
“ She was serious about the, ” Tony said, adding air quotes to, “ *alien* thing? ”
“ We have considered our options, and it ’ s been unanimously decided among us that a story about extra-terrestrial contact would adequately draw attention away from our business interests. We ’ ve also decided that your affiliations with multiple media outlets in addition to your popularity as a public figure will make this possible. ” Gary said.
Tony waited for the joke ’ s punchline – maybe a camera crew to pop out. Nothing happened. He bit his lip, and tapped a finger on the table in thought.
“ Does a position with our organization still interest you? ” Gary asked.
Tony ’ s face fixed in to a contemplative mask. He looked at Mrs. Scharre, at the packet she held, at Gary, at the papers turning in her hands, and...
Tony ’ s face became a mixture of puzzlement, and uncertainty. Gary - noticing the change – tracked his gaze across the table to his right, up to Mrs. Scharre ’ s hands, the pages fluttering in precise motions, and her eyes darting across their surface with alarming speed. His smile also transformed – in to dumbfounded panic.
“ Judith, ” he said quietly, “ what are you doing? ”
“ Reading, ” she said, with a tone that suggested this should be obvious.
“ Judith, you are aware the pages are upsidedown, ” he said in low tones, “ aren ’ t you? ”
She stopped reading, and closed her eyes in concentration. As if with effort, she blushed.
“ I like to keep sharp, ” she said, opening her eyes and staring evenly at Tony, “ but if it bothers you, I will cease to do so. ”
“ That ’ s incredible, ” Tony said in awe, “ like the scary kind of incredible. Count me in! ”
Gary let out the breath he ’ d held in a noiseless *whuff*.
The door opened with a loud thud as two more figures walked in. The tallest of the two – long multicolored knit scarf twirling behind him as he walked in as a neon blur of tracksuit – wordlessly took a seat to Gary ’ s left. He was balding, somewhere in the confident highground of his thirties. The other ’ s age could only be guessed. Covered from head to toe in multiple layers and colors of winter clothing only appropriate for an arctic climate, the ageless brunette took a seat to Mrs. Scharre ’ s right. In unison, they turned their heads and beamed at the stunned Tony.
“ Right, ” Tony said to Gary after a long pause, “ intelligence and eccentricity go hand-in-hand, I guess. ”
Gary winced, and managed a blank-faced, “ They very much are – to my left is Mr. McReady. To Mrs. Scharre ’ s right is Ms. Palmer. ”
The two, in perfect unison nodded and without a single pause said, “ Hello Tony it is a pleasure to meet you welcome to our humble office in downtown Chicago, Illinois. ”
Mrs. Scharre looked up abruptly. Ms. Palmer, and Mr. McReady buried their toothy smiles under six feet of cement, and sat back in their chairs.
Gary, sweating slightly from the spectacle, addressed Tony with forced formality, “ I ’ ll give you a brief overview of our problem. ”
“ Alright, ” Tony said, seemingly amused, “ lay it out for me? ”
Gary nodded.
“ We have had the benefit of greased wheels with respect to regulations that would otherwise restrict our interests in the harvesting and resale of lumber in and outside of British Columbia. That is going to change fairly quickly – it ’ s been discovered that a large oil reservoir is buried there, and we intend to use it. Our efforts will inevitably suffer once this information spreads. And it will spread – quickly. Our sales within the United States make up the bulk of our revenue, and where most of our opposition will come from. Mrs. Scharre has alerted me to a very convenient explanation for the deforestation, and inevitable contamination of that entire area – that we are a cover up of a larger goal by prominent citizens within our government to search out, capture, and stem the tide of a hostile extraterrestrial species that has begun to colonize the area. We need you to make sure there are enough people here who believe this that any opposition will be met with resistance. Everyone will eventually forget, and we ’ ll all walk away richer. ”
“ That ’ s it, ” Tony snorted, “ that ’ s your big plan? ”
Gary smiled.
“ No, ” Gary said with a wink, “ That is *your* big plan. ”
Tony sat in stunned silence.
“ I... I ’ ll see what I can come up with, ” he said, mouth dried to a desert wasteland.
Gary reached over to shake his hand, and said, “ Mrs. Scharre will assist you with your paperwork. I ’ m overdue for a lunch meeting, so I will leave you in her... their capable hands. ” He said, reluctantly including the two anomalies.
Tony shook his hand, “ Thank you, I look forward to working with everyone. ”
Gary left. The door snapped shut.
Mrs. Scharre slowly looked up at Ms. Palmer, and Mr. McReady. Something silent and chilling passed between them. Mr. McReady spooled his scarf around his neck, rose up out of his seat as if gravity had no place in his immediate lifestyle, walked smoothly to the doors and with a loud click they locked from the inside. He took up a defensive posture in front of the double-doors, and smiled. Mrs. Sharre ’ s hardened gaze turned on Tony.
“ Paperwork… ” she intoned with all the mirth of a funeral march.
Tony reached in to his bag, grabbed a manilla folder, and with a half-cocked smile slid it over to Mrs. Scharre. She reached out, flipped it open and began reading it all within the same blur of motion.
“ All of you need more exposure, ” Tony said, “ because that was terrible. ”
Ms. Palmer started to let out a series of whistles, clicks and polyphonic hoots but Tony cut her off with a glare.
“ No, ” he said, “ From now on, you speak like them. ”
“ Is the crash-site safe? ” Asked Mrs. Scharre.
“ Yup, ” said Tony, “ and any others can land where they like. Once they ’ re cloaked from view, the ship's landing sites will just appear to be deforested sections. ”
Tony surveyed the room with an imperious sweep, and said, “ Phase two can begin as soon as this charade gets underway. ”
|
[ WP ] Killing Hitler has become a sport amongst time travelers . Points are awarded for creativity and difficulty . You are last year 's champion , how did you win ?
| `` Look fuhrer, look here! these people have made a writing prompt where killing you is a sport and the entire point is to be the most creative person who killed you!'' I claim while pointing at the screen of my laptop, which I brought with me into the past. it's amazing how you can connect to the internet of the future in the past just by bringing something from the future into the past, it's a strange occurrence called `` temporal information bridging'' and is based on the idea that the universe is composed of information, so bringing something from one point in time does n't necessarily disconnect it from that point in time, in other words because there's an internet signal in this specific location at some point in the future, bringing a laptop connected to that specific internet connection at that point in time into the past does n't terminate the connection.
makes my head hurt just to think about it.
`` so... even now my enemies in the future who have demonized me continue trying to hunt me and doom me.'' the fuhrer clutched his head, and i could sense the existential anguish.
`` to think all this time I would be immortalized as their private devil! to think I could have done so poorly in my life that i am like the demons of hell! you time traveler, you have confided in me when I needed you the most, when you first came to the past you protected me from these other time travelers, brought order back to the reich and killed these fools contending to slay me. now that too has become a running joke in some alternate timeline! what a tragedy this life of mine is! that I could become so trivial and hated that I can not even defend my image from the ravages of time!''
he slammed his fist down on the laptop, breaking it before realizing his error and fuhreiously apologizing.
`` what must I do to atone for this? how can I bring myself from the hell I have coming to me?!''
`` furher.'' I began. `` you're not to blame, you suffer from a disease, syphilis.''
`` yes, I recall you mentioning that... but does that absolve me?'' he asked angrily.
`` No, it does n't absolve you I suppose, but you are n't entirely responsible for your actions either.'' i explained. `` you fight two enemies now, the time travelers and their future, and your own mind, ailing, breaking. you can repent for the crime of the holocaust, the people will still hate you of course, they'll never pay attention to your redemption because the story of the wicked adolf hitler holds their hearts in far greater sway. but you can prevent yourself from doing the world any further harm.''
I hand him a gun.
`` the japanese believe that death by suicide carries its own form of honor, that to act out of duty to that which you believe by taking your own life is a firmer statement than simply dying fighting for it. you regret the holocaust, you accept your illness and we both know there is no cure for your mind's degraded state. you will only get worse from here, if you truly wish to redeem yourself.....well... show the world by sacrificing your life for that redemption.''
`` will anything change?'' hitler asked suspiciously.
`` no, but good people, german and jewish, will be spared the madness of adolf hitler the villain, because adolf hitler the repentant man stood against his own mind, his worst nemesis, and defeated it for them.''
adolf turned the weapon over slowly before nodding to himself.
`` very well then.....but do me a favor, yes?''
`` what is it?''
`` remember me for this... remember that I redeemed myself and renounced my foolish, wicked actions....if the future hates me so be it, but please....remember this final moment.''
he put the gun to his temple, I stared impassively as the flash from the muzzle rang out, shattering his skull.
with a sigh I returned to the future where the judges awaited me.
`` amazing, simply amazing! such a masterful manipulation of a man's emotions!! you're truly frightening!!''
they awarded me maximum points, and from there I decided to post this in the /r/ writing prompts of reddit on a return trip to my vacation home in the year 2016, which happens to be the old fuhrer's home.
all in all it was n't that hard, driving a crazy man to suicide? pff, easy.
getting hitler to redeem himself by humbling him with visions of the future?
that shit was the hard part.
|
[ WP ] Inner monologue of someone who ca n't speak
| James set his bags down in front of the desk and sized up his opponent. Female, five-six, about a hundred sixty pounds, and a poof of blonde-but-your-grey-roots-are-showing on top a small hill of makeup. A plastic name tag announcing her as `` Kathy''. A fleshy grin did little to calm his unease.
`` Hello, will you be flying with us today?'' Kathy was, despite appearances, bright enough to make utterance. Not that James needed to be reminded that ability can not be determined by appearance.
Silently, he reached into his pocket and placed a card in her hand.
*I am mute. I can hear you just fine. I can understand you just fine. I can not speak to you. I will write to you instead. * **Please do not shout at me. **
`` Oh!'' Kathy's surprise was more palpable than most. `` Well, I'm sorry to hear that.'' Her manners, however, were not. `` How can I help you today?''
James was already busy inscribing instructions on his notepad. *My name is James Snyder. I need to board flight 7510 to San Francisco. I have two bags I need to check in. I would like to go through the special security line. *
Some long suppressed memories of being humiliated in the normal security lines started to bubble to the surface. James choked those back down to the pit of his stomach.
`` Well, James, I'll need to see your driver's license and the credit card you used to make the transaction.'' Somehow she had missed that he had already placed those on the counter. `` And I see here that I already do have record of you here, and it does mention your … your, uh….'' *Condition, you idiot. Just say condition. * `` … well, never mind that. I can give you access to the special security line. That'll be fine.''
Still looking forward to the day when all airport transactions could be handled completely by computers, or robots, or androids, or pretty much anything but Kathy, James flicked the side of his cards to give the appearance that he had just now tossed them on the counter. His sleight of hand caught Kathy's eye, and with a curt `` thank you'' she was busy typing the relevant information into the system. James' attention was directed to his right where, overwhelmed by lack of cooperation from her toddler, a young and pretty mother was struggling to lift a large bag onto the scale.
`` Please place your first bag on the scale, sir.'' Kathy's interjection snapped him back to the unpleasantness at hand. `` I have your boarding pass and security checkpoint pass, and we only need to check your luggage.'' James was, of course, already familiar with the procedure, but easily lifted booths bag onto the platform where they were weighed, tagged, and sent off to oblivion. Without a word, Kathy engulfed the boarding pass in a wasteful paper envelope, snagged James' credit card and driver's license off the keyboard in front of her, and passed the ensemble to James' expectant hand. `` Enjoy your flight, sir!''
It was n't every day James got to hear words so hollow. But no matter; this part of the adventure was, at least for James, over.
James made his way to the left and turned the corner to the security checkpoint. Like most Friday afternoons, a buzzing line of loud, obnoxious people stretched and wove over itself at least half a dozen times. *I wonder if I could count all those people, * James thought to himself, before wondering why he would have ever wondered such a thing in the first place. But James was n't going to have to deal with that line. His line, the accessibility line, contained all of three people.
James was about to redeem his pass through the easy line when something at the end of the longer line caught his eye. A young mother with an apparently disoriented toddler. The pretty one he had seen before at the ticketing counter. Just about his age.
Without a word, James joined the long line.
|
[ WP ] You and your wife decide to try a new Christmas tradition for the kids called Elf On The Shelf . After a week of you and your wife playing and moving the elf around , you start to notice the elf moves to different places at night by itself . You ask the kids if they been moving it , they say no .
| 2 nights in a row the Elf was n't where I left it. Somebody's lying to me and I hate that. A family's all about trust. I'm not cool with being lied to not even for a joke. Besides it's not funny.
Nobody's moving it tonight he's in jail. I unscrewed the vent in the living room on the wall and put him in there. Kids could n't be quiet enough to get a ladder to climb up and remove the vent guard. I'd wake up. Wife would n't know where to find a screwdriver. She would n't go through all that trouble just for a prank anyway.
[ Next Morning ]
Not again. Where's the little asshole at? I'm just going to act like it's not bothering me. They love to see me upset. I'm not giving them the satisfaction this time.
`` Dad where's Melvin?'' says Eric ( son ).
`` You or your mom would know.'' I say.
[ 2 days pass ]
Me: `` Honey, I'm pissed at you. What've you been doing on the roof? You do n't need to be climbing around on the roof. You could get seriously hurt?''
( Jenna ) Wife: `` What are you talking about?''
Me: `` Melvin the freakin Elf on the Shelf. He's on the roof!''
Wife: `` I've not been on the roof!''
Me: `` Where's Eric?''
Wife: `` Backyard''
[ We both go to the backyard ]
Eric swore it was n't him and I half-believe him. Me and my wife told him how dangerous it was. We made him cry. He still swears it was n't him. Is there a chance he's right? Maybe whichever one of us is doing it ca n't remember. Maybe sombody's sleepwalking. I used to when I was young but grew out of it. At least I thought. Eric was my age when I was sleepwalking. Jenna takes Ambien sometimes. Could be any of us 3. I've got to know. Time to buy a security camera.
[ Security camera set to record. Elf sitting on kitchen table ]
Ok time to review the footage. Elf just sitting there sitting there. Skip. Fast forward. Fast forward. The Elf stands up! He's like a little tiny robot walking. Holy Shit! He's floating around. I'm living Paranormal Activity 6!
I've calmed down now that I've got me, Jenna, and Eric in a hotel. I've never belived in the supernatural but demon possession/haunting now seems plausible. I'm going to put this on Youtube and ask for advice.
[ Next Morning ]
Phone rings. Unknown Atlanta number. What the hell I'll answer it.
Me: `` Hello.''
Lady: `` Is this Mr. Schmidt?''
Me: `` Yea''
Lady: `` Hi I'm Laura from Elf on the Shelf. We believe we've accidentally sold you a prototype Elf on the Shelf. We're experimenting with a new model that hides itself.''
|
[ WP ] In order to pass the test , you must fail .
| I went to school in Florida, Hillsborough County to be exact. In typical outrageous fashion which my state is famous for, we have what's called a passing F. It's when you get a 51 % on a final exam, yet still pass the class. If you get anything lower, it shows your overall grade was inflated and therefore you did n't truly learn and must retake the class. The passing F keeps your overall grade at a C, without holding you back from moving to the next grade.
I explain this to you today because many teachers disagree with a passing F. They believe it's a ludicrous standard made to push kids into college, despite the fact they may not be ready. So was the case with Mr. Yokamoto, our physics teacher.
Yoki, as we call him, came from a strict Japanese upbringing. His upbringings made his class exceptionally hard where many students would n't pass. It also made him feel the passing F was a sham, a pillar for American laziness. In order to throw the passing F aside, he determined that a grade curve would be based off of the highest overall grade in the class. Which was mine.
My fellow students were feeling the pressure. I had a few points shy of a B in Yoki's class, one of the highest he'd seen in his 30 years of teaching. If I managed to get an A on the exam, I would secure not only the highest grade ever achieved in the class, but te first A Yoki gave out. Like the nerd that I was, I calculated that I could get everyone in my class a passing grade if I pass with an F. Nothing more nor less than a 51 %. My peers eventually found out; and to say they were angry was an understatement. They believed I was going to jeopardize their passing for my own. I was threatened, harassed, and picked on about the passing F for what seemed like forever. I was eventually told very blatantly, that if I kept a few of the seniors in the class from graduating, I'd be in immense danger. I was told by my fellow juniors that my reputation was at stake. In typical Florida fashion, I even had various athletics coaches come speak with me about the importance of, and what staying eligible meant for people's college hopes and dreams. Yoki, being a smart and disciplined man, had also known this calculation. He pushed for me to fend for myself and not only pass, but get his alluding A. This had become a test to determine my legacy. Would I shoot for my own aspirations, or would I follow along helping friends and peers. At this point, I knew what I had to do.
Despite my struggle, unsure of what grade I would receive, the day had come where I was to find out. The test had been hard, I couldnt try for a passing F without putting my own grade at risk, yet i could n't get an easy A no matter how hard I studied and tried. Everyone else's overall grade was beyond salvageable based off of their test scores, unless my passing F came through.
For everyone else's benefit, I received the highest grade 42.8 points out of 84 possible, which by county rule is rounded to an even 51 %. I had passed two tests that day, one of physics, and one of life. Becoming a hero to my peers, and at the time, an enemy to Yoki.
Years later I saw Yoki again. This time as a peer instead of a student, I spoke with him about our incident, and he told me I had taught him something that day. It was n't that I sacrificed my own glory for the sake of a positive reputation, but that I achieved personal glory through helping others, which is what Yoki had been doing all along by being a teacher.
I failed my teacher, and technically my test, but I passed my class and passed a test of life, all in one shot.
Edit: Sorry for the errors, I typed this on my phone.
|
[ WP ] You can make five clone copies of yourself that live their own life during the day . At night , the clones come together to merge memories , experiences , and knowledge . Tonight , Clone # 3 did not return .
| `` Where's 3?'' Prime pulled at his sleeve to look at his step counting watch. Then he glanced up at 2 and 4.
`` Dunno'' said 2, hand resting on the fridge door. `` Red Bull?''
`` He has n't been in contact all day. Not that that's unusual.'' 4 shuffled the print outs of apartments he'd spent the day searching and calling about.
`` It's almost 11:00, what if he's not here to merge?'' Prime looked at his dopplegangers pleadingly. Missing a merge had happened before. Last year 2 had been unconscious, laying next to his overturned ATV in the woods until well into the next day. That had n't been so bad, actually, the black out, or maybe it had been a short coma, had made reintegrating 2's memories much easier, since there was n't as much to sort through.
The problem with merging was that nobody's brain got better. Prime might have been the original, but the ability to split off dopplegangers did n't make him smarter, or his brain any more capable of processing input. Reintegration was usually kind of like deja vu. He remembered things, but they seemed distant, like they'd happened some other time, to someone else. In a lot of respects, they all agreed, that was probably true. They had the benefit of shared experience, but it was n't a perfect blending. If they each studied hard for a day, then Prime might be able to access that knowledge, like remembering a study session with a friend. It was n't entirely his knowledge, but it was n't inaccessible.
But with more than a day's experiences, the knowledge drifted. More than that, the core personality drifted. It was n't like deja vu anymore. It was like looking at your own life like a movie, watched from another room. There was a sense of disconnection. Of dissociation, as 4 had put it. And it hurt. Study too much, too long, and the brain tires. Study even longer, and it begins to ache. Now imagine the studying is n't for an exam, it's to make sure that Prime wakes up as himself, without a psychosis or a stroke.
Snick! 2 popped the Red Bull open with one hand, and started guzzling it almost immediately. It was a good thing too, reintegration burned a lot of calories, something about mass energy conversion. That's one thing he had n't studied. The caffeine would n't carry over, not more than what Prime would get from sipping weak tea. But they should probably all be eating.
`` I want to go over the apartments in a little detail before we...'' 4 trailed off. Prime felt it odd that a doppleganger that did n't exist outside the cycle of splitting and merging was n't comfortable talking about it. But then, the whole culture did n't like talking about where babies came from, despite being obsessed with practicing for it.
Prime's phone buzzed 3 times. `` At last.'' Prime slid the phone from his pocket, looking at the TXT his doppleganger had just sent. He also noticed the time in the corner of the screen, 10:49PM.
His face fell. He hit the dial button, cursing.
His own voice came back to him, almost instantly. But not his greeting. 3's greeting. The moron had sent him to voicemail as his call had come in. He dialed again, and was greeted again by his own voice, but someone else's words.
4 looked up expectantly. 2 had finished the Red Bull, but had n't pulled the fridge open for another yet. He shrugged his shoulders at Prime, expressing both curiosity and boredom. Prime was n't sure how he did that, but he was too busy hacking out a TXT.
P: WHAT DO YOU MEAN, NOT COMING?!?! WHY ARE YOU THERE?
3: I'm done. Happier here. We could all be, I made it OK.
P: You should have talked to me. NOT YOUR CALL. GET OVER HERE.
3: Going now, be back in a week. But maybe we should talk about 5 when I get back.
Prime tried to send a few more TXTs, but his phone said they were queued, 3 was n't receiving. He managed not to throw his phone at the table, but he felt the plastic creak in his grip. He forced himself to set it down.
In an instant, the rage vanished. Prime felt... resignation. Maybe it was going to go this way for all of them, eventually. His shoulders slumped from their angered tension. He collapsed into his chair.
`` 3 is n't coming.'' It was a statement, one he realized was true. Always would be, now.
`` What?'' 4 exclaimed, his voice rising an octave in surprise and indignation.
2 left the little extended-stay kitchenette empty handed, and dropped into the chair across from Prime. He raised an eyebrow. Prime could n't raise just one eyebrow, had 2 actually practiced that?
`` He's at the apartment.'' Prime's voice was n't flat, not totally. But it was almost conversational, matter of fact.
`` But what about Cynthia?'' 4 blurted this out, not really having shifted down from indignant shock. Not having picked up that neither Prime nor 2 were indignant now.
`` He says he made it all right. I do n't know how. But if any of us...'' Prime trailed off there. If any of them could make it right with Cynthia, could unring the bell of the terrible things he'd said to her, if any of them could, it was 3. Did that mean he could go back?
`` We ca n't.'' 2 looked right through Prime. Right into the spot he knew Prime was heading for. Prime hated him for it, and knew he was right all the same.
`` No, I guess not.'' Silence stretched out for a minute, then two. It was 10:57PM.
`` Listen, the new apartments... Let's look in another city. Somewhere we wo n't likely see Cynthia, or run into 3.'' Prime put his hand on 4's shoulder, to show appreciation for his efforts, and apology for their being wasted. It was also the first part of the merging process.
`` Sure, sure.'' 4 sounded distracted, almost dreamy. He never sounded like that outside merging, but maybe it was his chance to let go.
2 reached across the small coffee table, and took Prime's hand. He squeezed a bit, supportively. Maybe merging was about letting go. 2 would never offer that kind of connection otherwise.
As the dopplegangers went slack, and Prime felt his arms tingle and then burn with the energy and essence of them, he thought about 3. And about 5. They'd found someone, someone they belonged to, even more than they belonged to him. Just before he felt the warmth of merging crest to a peak, and the sense of being more complete than just a moment before, he felt a pang of dread.
What if they all left him? What if he would be the only one left, alone?
|
[ WP ] Blood dripping from his blade , he kneeled and smeared it on her robe .
| `` Ruka-sama... I deeply regret this, but I'm the messenger. Not the sender''.
Asher's Japanese was... for a better word, *lacking*, so instead of continuing the explanation, he kneeled further down, reaching for the hem of Iwasaki-san's robe and wrapped the blood-soaked length of the blade in the rich, decadent fabric. Silk shushed thinly on the metal, its bright-rose hexagons, tsubaki and cranes turning a deep, thick shade of maroon.
It should've been kept pristine, to avoid obstruction. When Asher felt the blade to be sufficiently clean, he held his fingertip up to scrutiny, watching the angled piece of metal slide back into the carbonized phalange. With a series of clicks and hisses, his fist clenched and unclenched, testing the servo integrity.
Beneath him, Ruka Iwasaki was twitching, a mess of pale flesh thrown about the kimono drapings, hopelessly trying to crawl forward - blind, almost deaf, maimed beyond recognition. Bloodied and matted hair kept her visage mostly obscure from him, though a tell-tale string of maroon-tinted saliva stretch down, to the very mattress.
The woman's bare back pulsed with a swarm of raging dragons and koi carps, as she glitched, dripping blood, towards Asher. Towards her lost treasure, her pearls that Asher so savagely ripped out her now weeping meat. Now, bathed in the filtered, sliced-up light that seethed through the shoji, they lay scattered at the bed's footing, glistening - abandoned.
Asher ran a hand through them, picking out a cranial neuromodulator and gently wiping it over his suit.
`` I'm afraid I'll have to take... these... back'', Asher moved the duffel bag closer to the *sukeban's* futon. With a practiced, trained-in efficiency, he began cleaning and putting her parts away. It was too silent and cold for him, so he had to talk, to break the ice somewhat, to show the girl some human connection through her ruinous misery. Ruka-sama could n't speak anymore, afterall. Only tiny, animal noises signified some presence of life and cognition, the erratic grasping motions of her left, live hand.
Behind the sterile mask and safety glasses, Asher's narrow face folded into a frown, as part after part - a Heiwan forearm module with built-in, springloaded tanto, a BMW gastro-buxt hydraulics loop, a mil-grade glandular VX dispenser, on and on - was cleared from fluid and lowered into the bag. The Neon Orizuru put so much faith in Ruka-sama. She had that papercut edge they sought in new muscle, and lavished her beauty with expensive, lethal gifts.
Too bad, that she overestimated their significance. It was not what you could do with them, but for what purpose, and that was exactly what Ruka Iwasaki had forgotten. No power was limitless, and the still-bleeding gash on his own cheek was proof of that, in case his own pride will once whisper foolish promises into an eager ear.
`` Mr. Orochi sends his condolescences'', Asher leaned in closer to her, his hard, ball-jointed thumb pushing through the dark tangle of Iwasaki-san's hair, into the hollow of her eye and cheek, clearing away tears. The words came out awkward and stiff.
The woman shuddered under his touch, sending haptic feedback all the way up his own reinforced periphery.
Ah, she grew lighter. Mindful of her frail state, of the asynchronic beat of Ruka-sama's heart, Asher slowly pushed an ornately embellished wakizashi that he previously pulled from the sukeban's own centerpiece stand, into the girl's remaining hand. And smiled, when he saw her fingers wrap around the handle. Strength was always commendable, circumstances be damned.
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[ WP ] Your child is the ( next ) Messiah . They have come to you for guidance before setting off . It 's your last chance to speak to them as a parent .
| `` It is time now, father. I must depart on my quest to fulfill my holy greatness,'' said James as he stood in the doorway, covered in white flowing robes as gentle winds beckoned his body to free itself of the threshold. His father, balding and middle aged barely looked up from the comfy chair as his son stood with the holy light blasting from behind his head. `` On this day, I shall bring onto the world a new age of joy, but it will come at the cost of tremendous strife. What say you, father? What shall I do to temper the world's terror as this new age dawns?''
His father cleared his throat a little as he folded the newspaper over and saw an advertisement for a lawnmower he wanted. Most people did n't read the newspaper anymore, but Milton was old-school. He glanced at James above the rims of his glasses and then went back to the paper. `` Well, you probably should n't talk like that if you want people to take you seriously.'' James blinked. He did n't know what to say.
`` Is that... is that it, my father? I go forth to usher in a new age, have you nothing else to give unto me before I depart?''
`` That's what I'm talking about. No one says unto and go forth anymore, James. I mean, your mother and I put up with it... because, well because you're our son, but... but you probably should put a lid on that,'' Milton elaborated.
`` Father, please- I love you so greatly, impart unto me a greater word of wisdom before-''
`` And do n't go around telling people you love them,'' Milton cut in, dropping the newspaper now. `` People do n't want to be told by random strangers that they're loved. You'll- you'll end up in the loony bin.'' James stood speechless. Milton watched him for a second and then turned on the TV and started watching the football game.
`` Well... I guess I'll just go then,'' James shrugged. Milton nodded halfheartedly as he turned up the volume. `` I'm- I'm off now. I'm off to change the entire world. So... uh, so goodbye!''
`` Alright, goodbye James,'' Milton mumbled. James looked around, unsure of what else to say and closed the door silently, as to not disrupt his father's beloved football game.
|
[ WP ] a love story that ends with the words `` and I hate her ''
| It all started like any other day really.
I can remember the time, it was 11:30a.m.
I was walking down the street, on my way to work.
The sun blindingly encompassed everything, so I had to pull out my sunglasses.
So, I'm fiddling around in my jacket pocket for them and just as I get my grip on the shades in question, I crash hard into a random passerby.
She was nice enough, she handed me my sunglasses, apologizing furiously.
Her eyes as I recall, were the most vivid cerulean.
Her body, was very sleek and shapely.
She had curves in all the right places.
Anyway,
We said our farewells.
Parting ways, never to see each other again, right?
A few years later, most of my family had passed away, save one crazy uncle named Dave.
No one in the family ever visited him, as he'd murdered my aunt a few years back.
They did n't lock him up, not in jail anyway unfortunately for him.
The lawyer on his case got him off on an insanity plea.
Which, if we're being honest, he was.
He snapped.
He and my aunt were in the store.
She asked him if he wanted roast for dinner.
According to two witness accounts and the store security tape, it was at that moment he decided to strangle her to death with one of those bags specifically for vegetables and fruits.
It was brutal.
I always wondered what was going on in his head at the time.
It had to be something pretty powerful to do that to someone he loved.
I felt sorry for him.
So, after my mom's funeral I decided to head to the `` hospital'' they were keeping him in.
Oddly enough, I walk in and there she was.
Those eyes.
I could have spotted them out of a police line up.
They were etched into my skull, she recognized me too.
So we say our hellos, that's when she asks why I'm here.
Well of course it would have been sly and potentially swoon worthy, had I said something like; `` I looked you up, because that day we met when we crashed into each other, I fell madly in love with you.'' However that was simply not true.
I did n't know this woman, I did n't care about this woman.
She was just another face.
As far as I knew she felt nothing for me either.
We were strangers after all.
So, I answered truthfully.
`` I'm here to see my uncle.''
She looked shocked. The kind of shock a person gets when you tell a slightly off-color joke, or the second in between burping and saying excuse me.
She asked me his name, I told her.
She then informed me he'd passed away just that morning.
Now, I do n't know if it was the fact that I'd lost mom rather recently, or that I really truly felt sorry for Dave. Not one visitor in 10 years, just slowly stewing on his thoughts.
Then finally someone's coming to visit. Somewhere in the afterlife I imagine he's either really pissed or laughing his ass off.
Someone came to visit, and before he could see them, he dies.
A tear began to fall, I wiped it away pretending I was rubbing my eyes.
She looked concerned.
She took my hand and led me to a chair in the waiting room.
That was her job, to console people here.
Well that and receptionist duties.
We talked, and basically exchanged life stories.
Apparently she'd had a rough road as well.
Orphan, abused by most of her adoptive families in one way or another.
At any rate, we decided to talk more.
We exchanged cell phone numbers, and began texting one another for about a month or so.
We would hang out and watch movies, we were n't really dating, just being friendly.
Well one day out of the blue, she decides to ask me out.
I agree, because I had grown rather fond of her by now, we were best friends.
What could go wrong?
A few years pass, and we're happy still and doing all those gross romantic things that guys pretend to hate around other guys even though we really enjoy them.
We had our fights like any other couple.
Stupid little arguments, but those eyes...
I started to grow more and more distant towards her as time passed.
I watched the life and hope slowly dissipate from her lovely eyes.
We were killing each other.
No, that's not right.
I was killing her...
It was like watching a movie of us to me.
I could see what I was doing, and how it hurt her, but I just could n't snap myself out of it.
I could n't talk to her.
She'd always try to come back with something positive, and it made me sick.
I wanted to shout at her. That being a damn optimist was n't going to solve anything.
It got under my skin so badly.
One day, she got some terrible news.
A friend of hers had passed away, she was devastated.
I could see it, she was literally coming undone.
This was going to bury her.
I thought, `` Maybe I should say something, or do something.''
A part of me wanted to. I wanted to help this beautiful creature I had fallen in love with, so badly.
A bigger part of me, the part that consumed me, did n't even care.
I felt so guilty, that a part of me just could n't even muster up enough effort to say anything to this girl.
I tried.
`` I love you, I'm so sorry.'' I hugged her awkwardly, and then left for work.
Well she seemed strange for some time, but months went by and things went back to normal.
Her eyes did n't shine like they used to, but I thought we were doing well.
Then she stopped saying it.
She stopped saying `` I love you.''
I was worried, but thought maybe she's preoccupied.
I began saying it first, she'd say it back,
I'd ask her to promise, we'd go about our business.
I leave for work on a Friday.
I come back around 12, her car's gone when I arrive.
Okay, that's normal she must be out with a friend.
I walk in, set my things in the floor, get myself a Diet Mountain Dew.
Something feels off, but I ca n't quite tell why.
I look around the house things seem to be missing.
I go into the living room and it's barren. Like I missed an apocalypse.
I walk into the computer room, and on the desk is a note.
It's from her.
Basically saying how because of me, she had to leave, and thought we'd both be better off.
I wept.
I wanted to beg and plead and bring her back.
But the more I thought, the more I blamed her.
`` screw her. `` I said.
I'll never date again.
I thought I loved this woman so much, but I did n't treat her right.
I was a jackass.
I hate that I'm an asshole, I hate that she's gone...
And I hate her.
|
[ WP ] `` You have the best memory in the world . So good in fact that you have memories from before you were born ''
| `` That's not quite accurate love.''
She raised an eyebrow. `` How so?''
`` While my recollection does stretch back to my time in the womb, I do not recall all of the time in the womb. I do not recall my conception,, or anything that came before it for example.''
She waived a hand in the air. `` Well, surely not. After all, your consciousness must not have developed until your brain had grown to a certain size. The zygote would not have had any organs with which to think or feel. Still, your memory stretches back further than any other person alive.''
`` No love. There are those who can recall further back in their lives than I can in mine. I've known people, rare and few, who can not only recall their conception, but things which preceded it.''
Her jaw slowly dropped open. Her eyes widened until they resembled black saucer plates with brown trim patterns on white table cloths.
He smiled at her. `` Later this week, I shall introduce you to such a person.
|
[ WP ] Write me a love story between diet coke and Mentos . You can make it a comedy , romance , etc . Have Fun !
| This is a story of lust. This is the story between Mentos, the compact rigid male, not the biggest in size, but what he lacks in size he makes up for in sheer delight, in the flavour of his insides, in the way he gets up all in your mouth and leaves you tasting him on the outsides of your upper teeth for hours. A sturdy little fresh guy, Mentos has always had a thing for the opposite, for the unthinkable, a twinkling eye for the exotic; a soft brown female. Which brings us to Diet Coke.
Ah, this dark temptress, this mystery of the bottle, this fizzy limber substance shapable like putty in your palm, bubbling on your tongue with the silky smooth brown shining divine, ah, all kept tightly and lavishly in the curvaceous body of the transparent click-clacking glass. She was something. It was destined to be glorious when they first met.
Mentos dipped into her, his thick hard cover cracking immediately, he lost it inside one second, he could n't handle the pure exciting arousing nature of her, the enticing bubbles and moreish flavour. He was done so fast. Together, they exploded, like a shooting star through the sky, spraying mad champagne uncontrollably and wildly, they burst together in a strangely mesmerising display of soda fireworks, they held on to each other and never let go as they bounced all over the floor, a sparkling mess of uncontrollable lust and desire. It was beautiful.
Diet Coke then put her top back on, and waited patiently for round two.
|
[ WP ] You have just been cursed , such that you can only respond to people in rhyme . Explain this to your boss/spouse/class/etc .
| -What happens if you do n't?
-It hurts, schmurts.
-Hurts how?
-I do n't know, schmow. It hurts all over, schmover.
-Let's go to the doctor. I will call him to say we are coming over right now.
-I'm fine, schmine. Just let me be quiet and see how it goes tomorrow morning, schmorning.
-No, I'm not waiting. You have gone insane. Where does it hurt? Tell me where it hurts. Show me what happens when you talk normally.
-It hurts, schmurts. Trust me, darling shmarling.
-Gah! You're impossible. You know I do n't have time for this. I have to take the dog to the vet in the morning and then go to work all day, and then --
-Let's just be quiet, schmuiet. Let's sleep, schmeep.
-OK fine. You deal with it in the morning. I do n't have time for this, OK? It's always something with you. You are acting crazy.
-OK fine, schmine. Let's sleep, schmeep.
-Gah! Shut up already. Just sleep. Good night.
|
[ WP ] A starship captain watches as the alien ships swarm around his vessel shooting at the almost dead shields . He knows all is lost , however he has one last trick up his sleeve .
| The Starship'The Ship' had been surrounded. Resents were pouring in from every imaginable direction and the vessel was out of fuel. The two inhabitants of the ship were standing in the ship's cockpit. The large glass ceiling surrounding the room shook, as the Resents's ships pelted them with lasers, chairs, table lamps, and other assorted items that they found lying around, the majority of these'weapons' had no effect but Resents were too stupid to realize that.
`` So, this is it,'' the young, red-haired, girl asked as she stared at the shield's durability chart on one of the monitors in the room, `` Once the sheilds break down and something breaks the glass, we're done for.''
`` Kid, what have I told you,'' the twenty-something aged man, who demanded to be called'The Hero', asked, `` Whenever we get into a situation like this there is always a way ou --''
`` But the self-destruct requires so much time to get to,'' she forcefully interrupted, `` We do n't have the time! And besides, we'd still need to get to the escape pod first.''
`` Then we'll just have to stall for time, get to work on opening the vaults to where the button is,'' The Hero said, sitting down in the captain's seat. Once settled down, he pulled down one of the monitors that hung above the seat and with it one of the microphones.
`` What're you doing? Say something about us being spies?''
`` No, I have a better idea that they ca n't prove.'' He opened up the communications application on the monitor and searched through the'nearby ships' option to find what he was looking for: the fleet's commanding ship.
Soon after beginning the transmission, the monitor's screen changed to showing a dark interior of a ship with a single, gooey grey figure on the other side. The Hero simply smiled as it began to talk. `` This Fleet Girelpish. Reetreet Nebulae, surrender or destroyed,'' the figure stated in a loud and booming voice. The threat, however, did n't appear to be all that serious to The Hero, mainly because of the figure's poor English and seemingly made up words.
`` Hey, cool your jets, I'm The Hero and this is my partner The Kid,'' he tilted the monitor to the girl, who was busy plugging away at a screen on the side of the wall.
`` Do n't bring me into this,'' she glared for a moment before going back to opening the vault.
`` We come in peace,'' The Hero continued, `` We were just passing through on the way to somewhere important.''
`` You aware great war, correct,'' the Resent pieced together. Of course they knew of the great war, they were currently trying to get to a base within Resent territory that needed their help.
`` Of course I know, it was a big risk coming all the way out here. But i'm not on the Galactic Federation's side or anything, i'm just trying to meet up with a friend.''
`` Who that?''
`` The commander of your entire species, the head honcho, the big guy. Y'know, your leader.''
`` We're doomed,'' The Kid groaned, before going back to the task at hand.
`` You want leader'' the Resent asked.
`` Of course, we were going to have tea and biscuits,'' The Hero said, as if he was n't pulling stuff out of his ass.
`` Wait moment.'' The Resent said, before seemingly dragging its body off screen.
The Hero took the moment to look back at The Kid, asking in a hurried voice, `` How much longer till you get the thing ready?''
`` Gon na need another minute or two. Why did you think this would work?''
`` Resents are incredibly stupid, that's why.''
`` What is incredibly stupid,'' a new, more soothing, and more grammatically correct voice asked from behind The Hero. He turned around to see that a new figure, near identical to the one of the fleet's leader, had appeared on screen. Before The Hero could respond, the figure began to talk again, `` I am Rexeland, leader of the Reetreet Nebulae. You two must be the ones that have called us. Why have you demanded to speak with me?''
`` Uhh,'' The Hero stuttered, internally debating whether Resents were *that* stupid, `` Well, um, uh, Rexeland, it's been awhile. Do n't you remember? It's me, uh, Que-Gorp Slabseedap.''
`` Slabseedap,'' Rexeland responded awestruck, `` Is that really you? You look so different.''
`` Well, you know, with body transfers and vocal cord replacements, anyone can appear different nowadays,'' he said after a moment of silence caused by him realizing they are that stupid.
Rexeland's voice suddenly became darkened, troubled. `` So, do you still remember what happened? O -- on, Panea?''
`` Oh, uh, of course. How could I forget?'' The Hero had no idea what he was doing.
`` The fleet commander, he said that you came to see me. D -- Does this mean that you've forgiven me? Does this mean you still love me?''
`` Hey, Hero,'' The Kid called from behind, `` It's open, should I press it now?''
`` Yes, uh, of course!'' The Hero said to the image on the screen.
`` Great,'' the Resent said, doing its equivalent of crying, `` Then the war is off! I'll call the Galactic Federation and tell them that it's ov --''
Rexeland's victorious outburst was cut short by a synthesized voice coming from The Ship, `` Self-Destruct sequence initiated. Please proceed to one of the available escape pods. Destruction of ship will begin in 60, 59, 58...''
All color drained from The Hero's face as the countdown continued. `` I'll, uh, i'll be right back.'' This promise was subsequently followed by The Hero running away and screaming like a little girl, trying to catch up to The Kid who was already in an escape pod.
The pod departed through a small chunk of open space that the Resents had neglected cover. Their escape was soon followed by a large explosion originating from The Ship that claimed the lives of all the Resents in the area.
`` What,'' The Kid asked as The Hero glared at her, `` You told me to press it.''
They rode the rest of the way to their destination in quiet.
|
[ WP ] When you begin to fall in love with your soulmate , you begin to gain shared projected knowledge
| Unrequited love is the worst kind of suffering a man can endure. I pined for her, my Anna. She with the hair like chocolate and her skin as pale as the moon in the sky. She moved like grace through a crowd of sinners, touching each person who had the benefit of knowing her. I was not among the lucky.
High school ended and the years softened the ache that had settled within me. I went through relationships like colds, seeing her face in each and moving on. I learned she left our small town and with her went my chance at happiness, but I was happy for her. Truly I was.
It was a cold day in December when I saw her again. She wore the years apart like the fine scarf wrapped around her neck and her eyes reflected the places I imagined she'd been. With nothing more to lose, I said hello and she spoke to me. I offered her a cup of coffee and a place to warm up and she agreed with a smile that I would've killed to see in high school.
By the end of our impromptu date, I'd learned that she had indeed seen the world, had been to places I could only imagine and done things she was hesitant to talk about. We each had our demons and I knew a girl as beautiful as Anna had surely made her own share of mistakes with men.
Reluctantly, she agreed to a second date. Then a more enthusiastic third. I was in love before our first kiss, shared on the bleachers behind our old high school under a full moon. I learned she liked to bite when she kissed, a quirk I fell in love with. It was heaven on earth.
I dropped her off that night already planning on the ring and proposal. She liked emeralds over diamonds. White gold over yellow. She was a simple girl with simple pleasures, just looking to rediscover her roots and settle down.
The sensation came to me in a flood. I knew it meant that she loved me back and I rejoiced. It was a common bond that could never be broken. She was truly my souls mate.
I stopped for flowers in the morning and noticed the cashier as if for the first time. She walked weakly on her left foot, perhaps due to an old cheer-leading injury. She was slow and I knew I could break her neck as quickly as a cat's and deposit her body behind the dumpsters where no one would discover it until I was safely out of town.
I vomited and left the building without the flowers, leaving the cashier with a questioning look upon her face. My Anna had the answers and I knew it would be a rational one.
She was sitting on the sofa with eyes that looked like she'd spent the night crying. She embraced me when she saw me and my fears evaporated in the air between us. There had to be an explanation. This was meant to be a happy occasion after all, but even as I held her, I knew I thought of all the ways I could kill her and how easy it would be to slip a knife between her third and fourth rib into her heart.
My eyes strayed to the kitchen. I felt her heart beating against my chest and thought of the ways I could separate it from her body. I knew it would have to be cooked on a low heat to keep in the juices and that the human heart was best paired with Pinot Noir. I loved her and in spite of myself, my stomach grumbled.
|
[ WP ] You discover that people have been travelling back in time just to see you , because you do something amazing/horrible in the future .
| `` He looks so normal...'' A woman whispered; still loud enough to hear.
`` This is before he snaps, what happened to him? He looks well enough. What happens in the next few weeks do you think?'' the second woman replied to the first.
I've had the feeling that people were watching me for some time. Since my child hood, strangers have gawked and stared at me as if I were some sort of spectacle. I would catch people taking pictures of me in public, and would often be frightened by the staring eyes. My parents thought I was overreacting, and told me to ignore it.
`` Why would they be staring at you honey?''
Why indeed.
The women across from me were facing the opposite direction, but would casually glance at me over their shoulders when they thought I was n't looking, but I was always watching them from the corner of my eye. They had entered the cafe shortly after I had, and they did n't order anything. Their focus was on me, and for once I had the courage to ask why.
`` Excuse me. Why are you talking about me?'' I said to the strangers.
`` Did he just -'' the first woman was interrupted by the second.
`` What? No we are n't talking about you.'' Said the second, nervously.
`` I heard you, just now. Why are you here watching me?'' I said, standing up now. As I stood from my chair the strangers shrieked.
`` Do n't hurt us, PLEASE!'' The first said, sprinting with the second towards the door. I was dumbstruck. They had obviously been here to see me, and yet they were terrified of me. After a moment of confusion, I noticed the women had left their cellphones and purses at the table in their hurried leave. I approached the table and picked up one of their cellphones, curiously. It was huge; wider and taller than my Galaxy Note, and thicker than my wallet. I could see the added thickness of the phone was in part due to an attachment that snapped onto the back. I popped it off and the inside read `` Verizon 2010-2020 mobile adapter.'' On the back of the phone itself read the phone's name as well. `` Samsung Universe 6X''
`` What in the fuck...'' I remarked. These devices made no sense. I kept up to date with most technology and had never heard of this. It barely looked like a Samsung device, the buttons were wonky and the size was enormous. Turning the device to the screen side I pressed some of the unmarked buttons until the screen came on.
The device's date read March 25th, 2056.
At this point my brain was aching. All signs pointed to these women being from the future; they were here to see me as well. I set the phone down and turned back to my table, and I saw them through the windows. They must have realized they left their belongings in the fluster, and turned back to see if I was gone. This was my chance for some answers, and I was n't going to ruin this opportunity. I bolted from the cafe towards the strangers. Realizing I was after them, they took their leave as well.
I was n't very fast, but these women were n't either. They screamed at me to stop, but I needed to know. I had been waiting my entire life to know, and now might be the only chance to find out. I had caught up to one, and grabbed her arm. She reached towards her watch and pressed a button, while the other woman grasped her arm as well.
Everything was black, for a moment at least. Then everything was bright, even with my eyes closed, even with my hands over my eyes. The brightness was piercing through every part of my body. It did n't hurt, but I could feel the light pulsating through me. Then everything was dark again.
When I came to, I was holding the watch, in a different time and place than I had ever been before. Looking at the watch I struggled to find an undo button. I could n't be here a moment longer. I could n't be here a second longer. I found a button that read `` revert time'' and I pressed it immediately.
Everything was black again, then bright once more, and black again.
When I awoke I was in the streets were I grabbed the woman. The thoughts of that place were still ingrained into my mind. Stabbing my conscious with the images of that terrible place. Replaying over and over.
Nobody should have to go to that place.
Nobody should witness what I saw, I would make sure of that.
I would make damn sure of that.
|
[ WP ] When you wish upon a shooting star , it 's actually a satellite , and your wish has been recorded and cataloged . An agent has been assigned to your case .
| `` Who the fuck are you and how did you get into my house?'' Lenny said, exasperated and confused as he set down his groceries. `` It's Leonard, right?'' said the stranger, with a blank expression, and just a hair too little of an upward inflection. Lenny reached for the baseball bat he kept by the front door. `` Oh. Leonard, there is no need for violence. I've only come to grant your wish.'' `` What the FUCK are you talking about? Who are you? Get the fuck out of my house!'' Lenny pointed the bat at the stranger and then the door. `` Out!'' he roared. `` August 2nd, 1982. You wished for a radio flyer and your parents to stop quarreling all the time.'' Lenny's eyes opened wide as he remembered the night vividly. `` It takes about 20 Earth years to travel from my quadrant to twenty-two twenty-two Muskogee Court, but I am here. Here to grant your wish. I could n't make it in time to stop your parents from divorcing, but please take this wagon as a token of my grattitude.'' `` Gratitude?'' Lenny asked. `` Yes. You see. My'people' need to be invited to Earth in order to make the journey. Your wish served as that very invitation. Not many of us make it.'' `` Why do you come here? What's the point?'' `` Oh, resources, to study life,'' the stranger trailed off. `` Too feed.'' He said, coldly. Before Lenny could let the words register and send a signal from his brain to his arm to pick up the bat, he'd need swallowed entirely whole.
The end.
|
[ WP ] Reveal the ending at the beginning of your story ( however you want to ) , but still hold the reader 's suspense all the way to the end .
| ( To be safe, I'm labeling this NSFW )
`` Now then... How shall we begin?''
I awoke only a few minutes ago with a pounding headache, naked and tied to a chair in a dark basement. The man standing before me was impeccably dressed in a well-tailored suit and snappy shoes. He was brandishing a red-hot iron in front of my face.
`` Branding is traditional,'' he said waving the iron around in the air, `` and I daresay, I quite enjoy starting with it. It sort of... Makes you mine, you know?'' He grinned. `` But for you... I think I'll do something special. After all, you were very hard to get a hold of.''
I tried to scream... To call for help in complete desperation that someone, anyone, would hear me. The sound was muffled. This madman had gagged me. There was no begging for mercy.
The man surveyed his various tools and instruments. Picking them up one by one and scruntizing them. Even though my vision was still blurry from whatever he drugged me with, I could still tell his devices and blades were far from surgical. They were rusty, dirty, bloody too, like he used them all before and never cleaned them.
`` Maybe we'll start big,'' he said as he picked up a long nail. My eyes widened with terror as he stepped quickly towards me. With one hand he held my head still and slowly inched the nail closer to my eye. I swear, it was mere millimeters away when he pulled back. `` Nah... Too sensitive. Do n't get me wrong, we'll get to that, but I'm a man who likes to build up.''
He walked over to the corner of the room and picked up a large hammer. He swung it over his shoulder and began strolling towards me once again. I began to panic as he got closer. He stood just off to the side and brought the hammer down until it just touched my foot. He began to act like he was about to tee-off against my foot. As he raised the hammer into the air about to swing down, he laughed a maniacal laugh before feignting the swing and bringing the hammer back to rest over his shoulder.
I was crying and panting heavily through the cloth that was stuffed in my mouth. A stream of hot urine trickled down my leg.
`` Ooo!'' The man said placing the hammer down and gleefully rubbing his hands together. `` I have n't even touched you yet and you're already this much of a mess! This is going to be fun!'' He walked back to the table of his horrid tools. `` I think I know what to do with you now...''
I could bearly see him anymore through the tears flooding from my eyes. I kept telling myself that this had to be a terrible, terrible nightmare, but the cold steel of the chair and the chaffing of the ropes binding my hands grounded me in reality. I could n't see what the man was looking at, but before he could turn towards me, his phone rang in his pocket.
He groaned and swore as he answered it. `` What?!'' He snapped. `` Oh! B-boss! I... Sure, I can but you see... I... I... Yes sir, I'll be right there.'' He hung up and wlaked towards me. `` Seems our playdate will have to wait. You wo n't go anywhere, will you?'' He mocked and patted me on the cheek. He turned around, walked up the stairs, and shut off the light.
I was alone in the darkness. The only sound I could hear was my muffled sobs. There was nothing for me now, only despair as I waited for him to return. I tried to escape. I jerked my body in any direction that I could but it was no use. I let out a stifled cry of defeat.
Then I felt my hand move. There it was! A glimmer of hope in that dark basement! Through some miracle, a knot was loose and I was able to free my hands and escape the chair. I fumbled around in the darkness for sometime before finding a lightswitch. When my eyes adjusted to the brightness, the first thing I saw was a macabar display of photos on the wall, each featuring a previous victim of this psycho.
I took a deep breath and calmed myself before rushing up the stairs. I looked around the corners and peeked through cracks in the door to insure it was safe. I stole whatever clothes I could find and moved towards the front door. I had to get to the police. I had to get this man arrested.
My hand was on the knob when I turned around. Behind me was the door to the basement I would have died in. It seemed like something was compelling me to stay. Instead of fear, I was now feeling anger. I took my hand off the door and waited.
It was a hour or so later that the man returned. As he rounded the corner, I swung a heavy frying pan into his face. As he fell to the floor, reeling in pain, I smothered him with a rag soaked in chloroform.
He was securly tied to the chair when he came to. I was examining the very things he planned to use on me. I turned to him.
`` I hope you do n't mind, but I burrowed a suit. It fits me rather well, no?'' I picked up a hot iron and walked towards him.
`` Now then... How shall we begin?''
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[ WP ] An aging , wealthy , childless business mogul has himself cloned . The young clone is taught about life by the man , who is grooming an heir . The adolescent clone does not want to inherit .
| My 11 year old son is really into writing. He whipped this up ( I have not read it yet )
I walked out of my containment pod in the morning, and the fluorescent lights blinded me for a few seconds. A few scientists rushed down when they heard the seal in my pod release. Mist flowed from the pod and drifted into the lab. Different scientists monitored and checked the artificial organisms in my body with an X-ray. I hated having to sit in that pod for at least two hours per day, constantly being pestered and monitored before I could even leave the depths of the lab. It was uncomfortable and hot in the X-ray pod. After being released from the pod I walked upstairs in my jumpsuit, itchy and annoyed. It was too tight in my suit, but I knew better than to complain. Before leaving, I snatched a cellphone from my pod that I hid there. I stole the cellphone two weeks ago from father, but he had so many it was barely noticeable. I had been chatting with people online for days now, and they were quite nice. I wish to meet real humans other than the scientists and servants in the manor. I made sure to use the cellphone discreetly when my father wasn ’ t forcing me to sit in diagnostic chambers to make sure I ’ m perfectly healthy, or making me learn how to lie to reporters and manage a company. I understood it was dangerous to steal things from father, and that he was only doing this for my benefit, and that this was for my own good. Right? Right. I thought so. I continued through the maze of corridors to find that my father was having a heated debate with someone on the phone. I waited patiently, like I was supposed to, and then we begun our classes. I sat impatiently, having occasional spasms. Not because I was unhealthy, the exact opposite. It was because I didn ’ t want to be here. I had no choice in the matter, I was aware of this. So I sat dutifully and waited. After ranting for what seemed to be hours, but was only thirty minutes, I was excused to go to my next class. Just before I got up, I asked, “ Father, may I leave the manor? ” My words were like glass that were just dropped and silence overwhelmed the room. He looked furious, veins bulging from his neck. “ No, ” he said in a calm voice, but it reeked of anger. “ You may not. Is something wrong? This is the first time you have asked this. Maybe you should go back to the lab. ” He said with authority. I sat up. I clutched the table to support my weight, which seemed to grow until my legs barely stood up on their own. “ … No, ” I said. “ Excuse me? ” He bellowed, not even bothering to seem calm anymore. “ How dare you defy me! ” He yelled, and he walked towards me. He didn ’ t stand a chance. Life went by in flashes, and soon he was on the ground and I was running out of the manor. I sprinted out of the doors and I saw it all. The birds, the sky, the sunlight on my face. I ran. I ran as far as my legs could take me, the machines inside of me moving like clockwork. I was running away from the place that kept me prison. I was no longer afraid.
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[ WP ] Last night the monsters returned
| The monsters returned last night. Daddy always says not to be afraid of them, and I ’ m not.
I hate them.
I wish that I could fight them, but Daddy says that only Mommy can and that I might get hurt. Every time I hear them, I remember the one time that he told me not to touch the top of the stove, so I stay in my room and play with Stanley and pretend I can ’ t hear anything. But I can hear them, and I can hear Mommy fighting them. They run from room to room, slamming doors and screaming and snarling.
And sometimes they hurt Daddy.
That makes Mommy sad, and in the morning she sits by the window and cries. And sometimes she just stays in bed because fighting them makes her so tired, and when I come home from school, Daddy says to let her be. Sometimes I sneak in to see her and she hugs me and says “ I ’ m sorry ”, but I tell her that it ’ s okay and that she ’ s gon na beat those monsters for good because she ’ s the best Mommy.
And she will. When Daddy put me to bed, I asked him to leave Stanley outside and he did. Let the monsters come. Stanley will stop them, and Daddy will catch them, and Mommy will kick them out forever.
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[ WP ] You 're on your death bed , and the personification of your greatest regret has come to say goodbye .
| Two women walked in the room. My stroke took my sight, my voice, so I could n't see them, but I felt a change. My wife's hand gripped me harder. I did n't have to ask who it is. It was the other woman and her wife, the woman I should have been.
`` I'll be outside,'' my wife said. I heard the floor creak as she left, ran down the stairs. They came closer. I felt their warmth.
`` Look at him,'' R said. Her name was R. My name, if I had lived that life, would be B. It does n't matter. I chose this life. And I'm dying.
`` I am so glad I'm with you,'' the other voice said. My voice. My femme voice. `` He's really fat.''
`` It was a stroke.''
`` I did eat when I was upset.''
Why was she, am I, using past tense? Was this mute body some object lesson, to show her she chose wisely?
`` I love you. Thank you.''
`` I love you. I know you've been doubting yourself, so I thought this would show you you did good.''
I heard them walk out, down the stairs, out the door. And then I remembered where I kept the clothes I did n't wear, the hormones I never took, the life I should have lived, and I wished I could cry.
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[ WP ] A failing physics student accidentally discovers faster-than-light-speed travel , but his professor doesn ’ t believe him .
| As he was looking at the whiteboard in front of the class, Brandon knew he discovered something that was unique.
He did n't have the `` Eureka'' -moment until last night. He repeated the tests he had been doing for months now. Every test brought him closer to the speed of light.
He knew there was something to be done and yesterday he finally tested it. The speed of light was something he found interesting when he was young, and he finally realized it could be broken.
As Brandon proceeded to day dream, his teacher came closer. Brandon knew he needed to look like he was paying attention, but he could n't ignore the fact that he finally solved one of life's biggest mysteries.
The teacher was slowly approaching his table and Brandon look at the teacher. `` Pay attention, Brandon, this information might save your life one day'', Brandon started smiling. `` Sir, I think I already get what you're saying..''
`` Ha, you must be one of those kids that thinks he got it all figured out''. Brandon's smile got bigger. `` No sir, I actually do n't, I do n't understand how something could travel faster than the speed of light''
`` That makes sense, Brandon, because nothing can''. Brandon's face had the most glorious expression it had ever had before. `` Sir, I already know that it's possible. I tested it last night''.
His teacher started laughing. `` Are n't you smart, Brandon. How did you do it? Did you throw a ball? Did you flick the switch off and on? Did you Elon Musk the shit out of the light?''
`` No, sir. Actually, I thought it was rather easy. I simply measured the distance of a particle that seemed like it could travel faster than light. And I was right''.
His teacher had a confused look on his face. `` Everybody knows that nothing can travel faster than the speed of light, Brandon. What's next, you're going to tell me you invented time travel?''
`` Well, sir, even when traveling faster than the speed of light it's still not possible to travel in time. All you can do is go faster than the light. See, if the light of the sun takes 8 minutes to get here, and you travel faster than that light, all you see is stuff that happened within those 8 minutes. You could hypothetically travel back in time by 8 minutes at most, depending on how much faster you travel than the sun light''
In all these years the teacher had never heard so much bullshit. `` Get out'', the teacher said. `` If I wanted to hear made up shit about traveling and space I would call my Scientology friends''
`` Sir, I swear I found a way to make stuff travel faster than light. If I can do it through a home test, imagine what we can do in the lab''
`` You're banned from the Lab, Brandon. You're banned from my class now too. Get out. I do n't want to hear any words coming from your mouth''
`` Make me'', Brandon said. `` I'm sorry? ``, his teacher looked like he was about to slap Brandon in the face. `` Everybody knows the that the formule is E=mc2''
`` Yeah, everybody does know that, and everybody is wrong'', Brandon got furious. `` I literally found a way to travel faster than the speed of light, and I will show you''
Brandon came back to the same class the next day. His teacher stood in the doorway, looking at Brandon like he was a piece of trash. `` What's that? ``, the teacher said. `` I will show you it's possible to get faster-than-light-speed travel. ``, Brandon was determined to make his teacher shut up once and for all.
As Brandon was setting up his equipment, his teacher was making jokes about him to the rest of the class. `` Ladies and gentlemen, if you ever want to look like a fool then make sure to pay attention right now''
Then it happened. This loud noise coming from Brandon's equipment. The class went silent. Brandon just stood there with a crazy look on his face. He knew he did it, he knew he found the perfect way.
His teacher looked at the equipment. He looked at the class. He turned around and looked at Brandon. He started to feel nauseous, his head started to turn white. Everything he had ever known in life was falling apart. As the room went dark, all the teacher knew was that he had never seen anything like this before.
That teacher's name? Einstein.
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[ WP ] You are a burglar . You just broke into someoes house and they just mopped . You try not to get the floors dirty .
| A dust cloud is rising in the air behind me as my old ford grumbles loudly down the familiar driveway. I can feel my stomach clenching up, my mind torn over what I was about to do. It was two o'clock. She should be gone to see Aunt Pearl at the old folks home, like she always did after church on Sunday. `` Just have to hope her habits have n't changed since we last spoke,'' I thought nervously.
I reach the end of the drive, and I can here the wind chimes on the front porch tinkling through my open window of my truck. My stomach clenches up again, a mixture of guilt and need this time. I can feel small beads of sweat trickling down my back. As I step out of the truck, the warm breeze blows through my shirt and cools me. Suddenly I'm 20 years younger, sweaty and out of breath, playing in the yard like I did everyday when I was a kid, breeze blowing through my shirt and cooling me down. I can still see her, younger too, out in the back, hanging laundry on the line and telling me to stay out of the neighbor's yard. The memory fades and I feel shame. I know that there is only one thing that's gon na make that feeling go away. One thing that's gon na make all the feelings go away, and for a little while I will be at peace. I just have to get up enough cash to get it.
It is time for me to do what I came here for. I'm going to get in, get that pocket watch that I know is sitting in her jewelry box on the dresser, and get out. I keep telling myself, `` Just do it, and do n't look back.'' I go around to the back door, and it's locked. I'm pretty sure my key wo n't fit anymore, given how our last discussion went. I pull the screen door open without hardly an ounce of resistance, and break out the smallest pane of glass closest to the door knob to unlock it from the inside. I push the wooden door open and step onto the kitchen floor.
The linoleum is shinning bright in the sun, and it smells like pine sol. She always did scrub that floor on Sunday mornings. I can hear her voice echoing in my head,'' Cleanliness is next to Godliness.'' I start to walk back towards the bedroom, but stop. The dust on my boots from the driveway is leaving muddy prints on the floor. She would have had my hide for this when I was a boy.
My heart starts tightening up, thinking about how hard she tried to raise me right. It was n't easy, being all on her own, and I know I did n't make it any easier for her. She worked her hands to the bone every day of her life, and she did it all for me.
What am I doing? I run back out to my truck, heart pounding in my chest and ears, disgusted with myself. Dust is rising in the air behind me again, driving away as fast as this old truck will go.
This is my very first post in this sub, and I am sure that there is all kinds of problems with my attempt at a story. For anybody who happened to take the time to read it, thank you! This was really fun.: )
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[ WP ] You are the captain of a starship , only a few hours before the last star in existence dies and the universe goes cold .
| No one ever says what space is really like. They say it's cold. They say it's silent. They say `` no one can hear you scream.'' All that bollocks. I tell you, space is one thing. Boring. I've been the captain of the HMS Hannibal for forty years Earth time. In all that time I have learned two things. There are no such things as space pirates, aliens, alternative universes, or black hole anomalies. Two, I wish there were. Something should have have happened in all my years. All my years as captain have been one dreary hypersleep to the next. Get up, check crew vitals, give the sick ones meds, check flight path. Usually, I take my time awake to write. Oh, and check the messages for the crew. Most times the alerts are just differences in pressure or fuel. Occasionally, we'll get a message from the big guys down on the Dot. Those rare occasions usually mean some noteworthy event has happened on Earth so as to warrant sending a message millions of light years to us. Heading to Mars is not a short trip and it takes approximately 1,000,000 Pounds to send a message directly from Earth. The four or five times it has happened I made sure the crew paid special attention, seeing as how it cost more than our collective salaries. The message today, I guess the reason I'm writing this is at all, was enough to give even a stodgy old man like myself reason for concern. After all, it is n't everyday you learn that the last star is going out. I did n't really pay close attention to the stars. After all, ever since Mars was colonized there was no need to navigate by stars anymore. Simply follow the coordinates and signal. Some ships were even being manufactured without windows. No cause for them. The Hannibal being one of the first, he still had all his Bow and Stern windows. They tried to remove them once. Damn near had to drag me off the technician who tried to shove the bloody work order in my face. Now I see the great coincidence in my fisticuffs with the worker. The last star. Stella Polaris. The North Star. The only star left in the sky. Granted, many of the stars went out years ago. Their lights were only just now reaching Earth. However, the North Star was the last star going out in our time to see it. On Earth, it would probably still be lighting up for at least a millennia. However, still quite the event to witness. Our course would lead us by the Stella in a few hours time. She was set to super nova a few hours after we passed by. Be a shame really. I should probably wake the crew but it's few hours. It wo n't take them long to process the information. It did n't take me long. Come to think of it, this may be the closest I ever get to those science fiction cliches that do n't actually exist up here. Well, that's ruddy mysterious. Perhaps, when this star goes out, that's when the real mysteries and cliches take place. Huh... glad I'm around to see it.
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