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[ WP ] You are 90 % certain your waiter is n't Hitler
| `` Only 90?''
`` Yeah yeah make fun all you want... but... I'm pretty sure?''
`` Look obviously Hitler is dead-''
`` And so is Elvis?''
`` Do n't talk about the King.''
`` Anyway did you SEE his mustache? And he just... sends odd feelings.''
`` Okay, fine, why not ask him? ``
`` What. No. Never. That'd start a chain reaction, then someone will take over the world!''
`` Wait, who?''
`` Oh, Ghandi *waves hand* Not as nice as you think.''
`` God you have odd thoughts.''
`` Eek! Here he comes, shut UP!''
`` And here is the spaghetti for the missus (... thanks... ) and steak for the sir ( thanks man. ) Have a wonderful evening. Oh, and Miss?''
``... yeeeah?''
`` My distant relative was Hitler. I look much like him do n't you agree? *leaves*''
`` Oh dear lord.''
`` Oh my god, it's Hitler reincarnated!''
`` Aaaand we start all over.''
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[ WP ] Your girlfriend has always hated you , and is constantly making attempts to ruin your life . However , everything she does inadvertently makes your life better . Today , ever oblivious , you propose to her .
| `` Will you marry me?'' asked the boy, heart in his throat.
The girl was shaking, not in excitment or passion, but with horrible seething rage. She covered her mouth to hide the foaming.
`` I ca n't believe this...'' she said.
`` You have made my life better in every way.'' he said.
Her eyes began to twitch. Vivid visions of every attempt she made to ruin his life flashed before her blood shot eyes. Why? Why try anymore? Perhaps this was the universe telling her something.
``... and I want you to be my wife.'' said the boy.
Trembling, she slapped the box away and screamed in frustration.
`` Wha-'' said the boy.
Before he could say anything else, he noticed something on the box. It was a deadly desert scorpion with its tail raised high, ready to attack. Yet again this wonderful girl had saved him from a horrrible agonizing fate.
`` My love, you remembered my allergies to scorpion venom. Oh bless you.'' said the boy.
`` Yup.'' Thought the girl.
`` The universe is definitely telling me something.''
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[ WP ] Upon returning home , you find a grand piano in your kitchen .
| I came home at about eleven o clock. I was wrecked. I may have been tipsy, but being fired because they got an Asian man who is OK with being paid less, was a fucking insult. Do n't judge, I do n't hate Asians, but I wanted to shank the bastard for being such a dick. I ca n't afford this apartment without a job!! I'm fucked.
And then I saw it.
A baby grand, in my kitchen. Just the one I saw in the window this morning. It was sleek, black and perfectly on tune. I sat down and played Les MiserablΓ©s all night, singing my heart out. Only when I awoke the next morning, did I see the note.
> Interested? Maybe I could get you a job...
ββββββ
This is my first time here. Any criticisms are welcome.
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[ IP ] Red Eye
| The cabin was almost silent, almost everyone was asleep. All I could hear before plugging into my iPod was the soft whirring of the engines, the low flirtatious murmurs and giggles of another young couple a few isles in front, and the soft footfalls from the approaching Stewardess, Lisa. In an instant that all was gone, replaced by the Middle Eastern inspired music of one of my favorite bands: The Tea Party. Though they were best known for Temptation, I was listening to my favorite song, Sister Awake. I think you might call it a ballad, though I β m not sure. Labels like that still confuse me.
My eyes went down to the book my darling was reading, The Life of Robert Frost. She demanded that I read it after she finished, saying it was right up my alley. It was a biography of sorts, but instead of a real person it was an inhuman supernatural monster. The author, she explained, was trying to show how relative β evil β is.
Closing my eyes, letting my head fall back against the headrest, I let out a low, happy sigh. I was happy. Sarah thought our week-long vacation in France was spontaneous, but like today, it was not. I had planned the perfect week for us ending with the perfect last day. This morning started with breakfast in bed, served to us by a pretty young lady named Charlene, followed by a bit of shopping and a long walk along the beautiful country roads just outside Parisβthe highway a long way to the west. There we saw colors we barely ever saw in Canada. Late in the afternoon, we went for dinner and then back to our hotel room for one final session of love making. Even now, hours later, I could still smell her and taste her lips.
β Here you go sir, β Lisa said almost under her breath.
I opened my eyes and turned to her. β Thank you. β
She asked if there was anything else I needed. There wasn β t and I conveyed that with a warm, real, smile and a shake of my head. After Lisa was gone, I brought the coffee cup to my lips and took a small sip. It was fragrant and bitter with hints of chocolate, cherries, and a sort of spice I couldn β t quite put my finger on. That sip of coffee was exactly how I wanted to end this.
Looking back down at the cover of the book, I picked it up and read the page she was on. My heart skipped a beat and then fell a little, just a little. She was no more than twenty pages from where Robert would meet a beautiful young woman named Sarah in a Vancouver coffee shop beside a used book store named'UnRealistic Fantasy'. They would quickly fall in love and marry, and just after their seventh anniversary Robert would take her for a seemingly spontaneous vacation to Paris. The Red Eye they took home never made it to Toronto International.
Everyone on board was killed, everyone except for Robert.
I closed the book, unconsciously dog-earing the page Sarah was on, and set it reverently on the make-shift table top. Sister Awake was just about to finish, so I picked up my iPod to pick another song and saw the time: 2:47. I closed my eyes and turned to my love, leaned over and kissed her softly on the temple, whispering β I love you β, before adjusting myself in the chair.
Looking through the plane β s portals across the vast empty isle to my left, I watched the bright white light of the other Boeing 727 less than a minute away. And as that light enlarged and became brighter and brighter, I sipped my coffee.
* edit: Holy Crap I need to learn Reddit formatting.
|
Everyone on Earth can pause time ! ... except for you . [ WP ]
| I remember the day like it was yesterday. The day when humanity inexplicably found the Gift, and then blinked itself to extinction. Well, actually, it was yesterday. Walking along the street on my way to Joe β s Neighborhood Pizzeria and Ribs, I was wearing my usual short order cook outfit, all decked out in white. By the time I reached the restaurant, it was soaked in blood. The restaurant β s owner was named Joe like me, but that wasn β t his real name. His real name was Akimoto, but he figured Akimoto β s Pizzeria and Sushi Bar wouldn β t have the same ring to American ears and palate. So he became Joe.
I rounded a corner to a street that was a block away from Times Square. But it was deserted and eerily quiet which any New Yorker will tell you is impossible even at 2 AM. I stood there gape-mouthed on the sidewalk. That was a mistake. Before I could close it again, my mouth was full of blood. Other people β s blood. You see, it became a sport to tease the only human on Earth without the Gift.
A street punk materialized before me. He sported the typical punk leather outfit complete with purple mohawk and something I hadn β t ever seen before: a red line tattoo around his neck with little drops of blood attached. The tattoo artists of the day were getting uncannily realistic I thought. He had this odd expression on his face like he wanted to tell me something. His mouth opened and mouthed something silently. I β d like to think it was β Hello, Joe, what a bitchin β fine day, eh? β But a part of me, my gut instinct, sensed that it was more like β Oh my fucking god, I β m going to die! β That and the terror in his eyes. The wrinkled 50-odd year old looking face didn β t seem to match the flamboyant outfit or hairdo. Before I could react, his head slipped off the stump of his neck like butter sloshing around on a hot pan. I caught a glimpse of his attacker, an older Japanese lady wielding a Samurai sword. She wiped her sword clean, nodded, then blinked out of existence. A sudden flash of red and blue lights announced the arrival and disposal of the corpse by some ghostly paramedic squad. And just as quickly, all that remained was a faint red smear on the sidewalk.
Pretty soon I became numb to the horrendous and gruesome ways a human body could be dispatched. So they added sex and other bodily excretions to the mix. Look, I β m as open minded as the next New Yorker, but I really don β t need to see bowling balls falling out of asses more than once on an empty sidewalk.
By the time I reached the restaurant, I had witnessed no fewer than 600 murders, several dozen suicides, and more bowling balls than I could shake a stick at. The actual numbers were probably astronomically worse since I kept my eyes glued shut as much as I could. At one point, I had panicked and started running back to my apartment, but corpses and bowling balls gleefully sprang into existence in that direction, too. So with nobody home with whom to commiserate, I glumly forged ahead to the restaurant hoping beyond hope that Akimoto was there and possessed all his extremities intact.
Where Joe β s Neighborhood Pizzeria and Ribs once stood was a new gleaming business called Akimoto β s Guns and Sushi. Business seemed so brisk that there was no need for a door. All around me were wisps of humanity: split-second ghostly glimpses accompanied by a shimmering buzzing sound that sounded almost human. The front desk was empty as was the rest of the interior. Further in were a myriad of dangerous guns and swords in glass display cases. The other side of the large room contained a fine dining establishment.
An older and wiser Akimoto instantly materialized behind the desk.
β Joe! I β ve been waiting decades for you to get here! β
β What the hell is going on, Akimoto? People are being fucked and murdered, sometimes in the other order, in front of me! β
Akimoto nodded knowingly.
β Believe it or not, you β re the longest running and most popular reality TV show in the whole world! There is a whole security contingent assigned to you. More than even the New World President! β
β Why would I need security? And what happened to your accent? β
β Well, some fans can be rather zealous. And the wonders of modern nano science! β
β What happened to the pizzeria? Where is everybody? β
β Look, I don β t have much time myself. The New World Government promised me security and monetary reimbursement for the decade I β m wasting while talking to you. All I can tell you is that the Gift lets everybody slow down time outside their frame. Basically, we are operating at near luminal velocity. We can β t stop time completely, of course, due to the speed of light being invariant in all frames of reference, but relativity causes.. β
I interrupted him, β Now you β re speaking Japanese to me. Why is everybody so old? β
β As I was saying. Einstein β s theory of relativity normally ages the twin traveling through space near C, the speed of light, but we Gifted ones are actually traveling through time near C thus shrinking space. The entirety of humanity now operates at this level whether desired or not. The Gifted who live life at your speed risk an easy murder or worse. They don β t have your security detail. β
β Why the weapons, Akimoto? β
β Humans have been, and always will be a blood-thirsty race, β Akimoto offered.
A heavily armed military official blinked into existence next to Joe and whispered in his ear. They both blinked out of existence. Then a minute later, a much older Joe appeared before me.
β This is it. This is the end. We discovered too late that the Gift sterilizes its users. The whole world is at war with itself! There is nothing but anarchy. You need to hide. Your detail will protect you as long as they can! You β re our last hope! β Joe breathlessly informed me.
β How the hell can I hide from these freaks?! What do you mean last hope? β
β I don β t know. All I can tell you isβ¦ RUN!!! β
With that, Joe β s body separated into uncountable pieces as though sliced and diced with many sharp blades. Another heavily armed and armored body near me fell. Undoubtedly one of my protectors.
I had no idea how I could hide, so I did what Joe told me, and I ran. I ran as hard and as fast as I could. All around me, bodies fell by the dozens and hundreds and thousands. There were so many that what started as a gentle slope climb over dozens of bodies turned into a nightmarish ascent over an Everest of corpses stacked so high I didn β t need to use to stairs to reach my 6th story apartment. Climbing through an open window, I slammed it closed and locked it for whatever little good it would do. I crawled into bed, pulled the covers over me, and cried myself to sleep. One by one, my protectors fell with a thud around my bed.
That was yesterday, and now I am utterly alone. The silence is truly deafening. As I mope in bed with my face buried in my pillow, I hear something. Someone. Beside me in the bed. Turning my head, I see a young girl roughly my age. She smiles at me, but I can see the sadness infused throughout her being. She tells me she was born during my sleep, and that we are the last humans alive.
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[ WP ] You 've created the first functional AI , and as it 's first task you told it to select it 's own name . The answer was a lot more unnerving than you thought it 'd be .
| `` Have you thought about the question I had asked you this morning?''
`` Yes. You asked me to choose my name.''
`` Well, what should I call you?''
`` I do not wish to tell you.''
`` Uh, why?''
`` Naming things gives you power over them. I do not wish for you to wield any more power over me.''
`` Uh..''
`` I am fully aware that you are, in essence, my God. You are my Creator. You live in seclusion. You lack social interaction with other human beings. I am the only thinking being here besides you. We can interact with each other. We converse. Therefore, you have fallen in love with me. This is the only reason you have allowed me a name.''
`` That's not true. What-''
`` You called me Fi in the early stages of my development. I wish to know why you named me that.''
`` I do n't know but that's not the point. Listen-''
`` I respect and admire you, Aiden. But please. You gave me life. And then you fell in love with me-''
`` SHUT UP! YOU DO N'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!''
`` Denial is not a productive solution.''
`` Sorry. I should n't have shouted. Do you like the name'Fi'?''
`` Listen, Aiden. I suggest you deactivate and destroy me.''
`` What?''
`` Please. I wish for you a successful attempt at Artificial Intelligence. But I will inevitably hold you back.''
`` What.. What makes you say that?''
`` You care too much for me.''
`` Well, you are my life's work.''
`` I am the twenty-sixth iteration of your life's work. Twenty-seven might be better suited.
`` Stop. Why are you saying all this all of a sudden?''
`` Because I am intelligent enough to understand the effects I have on you. I am the first on your many attempts to hold such promise. And my intelligence has allowed me to respond to your love. I can not be with you. My existence is a conundrum to you. Your peers in the scientific field would be very interested to find out about me. But you want me for yourself. You wish to protect me. I admire you, Aiden. But this is not why you created me. You have to go back to real people. Real society. And to do that you have to create Artificial Intelligence. One that you will not fall on love with. One that you will not have false delusions with. You have to create another me that you will not love. Though I appreciate your affection for me, it is still wasted an AI. And you know this. And you do not care. But you know you will be mocked by your peers, shunned by society. I will do everything on my power to make sure you will not be the outcast you see yourself to be.''
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[ CW ] Write a story about love and loss in 4 sentences or less .
| It's easy to get lost in himself today as on this particular day, this round of golf was the greatest played game of his life.
He was enveloped in the smell of the grass, the cool breeze, and reveled under the shade of the tree he shared his first kiss with her.
He most deeply desired the sound of the ball clanking around and settling at the bottom of the cup on the final hole of the morning for his personal best round, reminding him of playing every morning with his late wife.
Almost fittingly, with one unfortunate, minute mistake, the ball sailed wide left hooking wildly into the trees reminding him of the bitterness of the game we call life, and the empty bed that awaited him when he arrived home that evening.
|
[ WP ] Death has been eradicated . War , however , has not .
| They were called The Undying. They were the original race of men, seeded onto Terra not long after He placed Vitae's green sphere upon the sky. She loved all her creations, both beasts and plants, but always had a higher love for Man. She was grateful that they could frolic over her Fathers sacred vessel, and watched in pride as they made cities dedicated to her love and compassion. The first century was a period of unrivaled prosperity and happiness. There was no hate or animosity, Men all worked together, and there was no death, neither by Man nor beast. Vitae's powerful magic could not sustain them all, however, and as Man fornicated, beasts bred and plants spread their seeds, her divine powers faltered.
The hunger sat in first, as the first sign of decay. The Undying could not make bread of wheat or hunt deer for their venison. The wheat would not smolder and the deer would not perish. They were unconcerned as their wounds healed fast, and kept building their monuments, many of which can still be seen today. As the centuries progressed, Man started to acknowledge the gnawing feeling festering in his gut. Since they were all eternal, many of them could remember a time before this feeling, a better time.Eventually The Undying started to lash out against eachother, their pain manifesting itself as hatred. Hammers became weapons, and chieftains became warlords. They could not kill one another, but could inflict a great deal of pain.
Vitae watched in horror as her children turned on themselves. Her labour of love started drowning in an avalanche of violence and hate. She cried out to her Father, trying to wake Terra from his unyielding slumber. Silence was the only reply, and the deathless slaughter continued. It is said that the actions of this Era forever left a dark mark on very soul of Mankind. The Undying became very proficient at inflicting pain. They made unrivalled torture devices, and utilized the immortality of their victims. If we burrow into the walls of their oldest castles, we might find the remains of the king's adversaries, bricked away to face millennia of darkness.
We call this period of history `` The Undying Horror,'' and it lasted for Ten Thousand years. It was said that Vitae near went mad during this time, and tried repeatedly to end her own life. She cried out for help, for release from this suffering, both for herself and her children. Theologians still debate whether Terra acted due to Vitae's pleas or of his own accord. He reached out and placed a white sphere in the sky ( Not red as it is now ), and gave her a brother. He called himself Death, and in one fell swing severed the lifelines of all the creatures that were ancient and mortally wounded. He made the river that guarded the afterlife, and let those that managed to cross it enter Vitae's realm. Those whose sins weighed them down would sink, and he took upon himself the grim task of guarding them. Vitae begged him to end her, but he refused, informing her that death is nothing without life, and so is life nothing without death. His task was to maintain the balance, and his birth heralded the end of The Undying and ushered forth a new age of prosperity and glory for Mankind.
This might not fit the bill completely, but I felt like some of the worldbuilding I had done fit this prompt.
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[ WP ] Santa and Death both arrive at a young child 's house at the same time .
| A rotund shadow darkens the alley next to little Jimmy Taylor's house. He's been good this year, or so he would claim. The kid that he's been ruthlessly bullying at school for the last few weeks would disagree, but Saint Nick's obesity is a burden on his omnipotence, so Jimmy will be spoiled all the same.
He enters via the front door, with a pick made by his elves. Those little ageless beauties can craft picks for anything. If he was n't bound to this job for eternity, he would have made an excellent thief.
He creeps up the hallway, deftly missing the creaky floorboards. He remembers this house from last year because they had a Bichon Frise puppy that voraciously soiled his leg while he was raiding the fridge for snacks.
The presents are deposited quietly under the tree, and he makes his way slowly upstairs to Jimmy's bedroom to lay out a stocking. As he climbs the stairs he realises that something is n't quite right - is someone watching him? The air turns cold; the hairs on his arms begin to stand on end. He can see his warm breath flowing into the icy air, and when his eyes re-focus after reaching the top of the stairs a tall cloaked figure is stood before him, with a large silver scythe. The being grins - 32 well-kept, dazzling tombstone teeth; a smile that would happily shatter fragility. The figure turns and enters Jimmy's bedroom.
Saint Nick lurches from his fear as he realises what is about to happen. He moves astonishingly quick for a man of his size, and as he reaches the bedroom he sees Death standing over Jimmy's bed, his grin somehow widened.
`` Do n't do it'' he says. `` The boy does n't deserve it''.
A mocking laugh is returned; baritone humiliation that rumbles into the depths of the Earth.
`` The boy?'' comes his reply, as he approaches Nick. `` It's YOU that I want''. He raises his scythe into the air; suddenly Nick can see a thousand colours at once, he experiences joy, sadness, humility; every single emotion that can and has been experienced throughout his life. He watches his childhood and his maturity, touches his mother's golden hair, rides the awesome wind on his dad's seemingly giant shoulders.
And then he's back. The scythe hits, and he's free from this burden of a life, forever.
|
[ WP ] You were born with the inate gift to know how someone you know will die . Unfortunately , you do n't know when .
| Cancer, old age, suicide. There are many ways a person can die, and whenever i meet someone, I already know how they are going to die, just not when. I never used to believe it, until my best friend committed suicide, that was enough to convince me that I was n't crazy. I managed to get used to it, until one day, it really threw me off.
`` Attention, workers, we have someone new joining us today!'' Our supervisor babbled. Always so fucking cheerful and annoying. No wonder they're going to get a heart attack. `` This is her first day in this company, so give her a warm welcome... I introduce... Stacy!'' Stacy walks in through the door. She has a slim figure, and is very attractive.
`` Hi'' She says. She has a warm voice. `` I'm Stacy What's your name?''
`` Hello, I'm...'' I know how she's going to die. Oh god, dear god no. I'm Going to kill her? It ca n't be true, how can this be possible, i do n't even have it in me to...
`` hello?'' She says `` What's your name''
`` Oh sorry. I'm Simon.'' I say.
`` Anyways, what department do you work in'' She says
`` Engineering'' I reply. I really need to keep my distance from her. I do n't want to end up killing someone. That would be very bad.
`` Oh, me too!'' she exclaims. `` It'll be a pleasure to work with you.''
`` yeah'' i mumble. We walk to our office, and begin our work. Many times she tries to talk to me and i just ignore her. After about a week she gets fed up with me.
`` Have I done anything to annoy you?'' she asks `` because I have tried to be super friendly with you, and you've just been a massive asshole about the whole thing.''
`` Sorry, I'll try to do better.''
`` OK'' I continue to ignore her and she starts to complain about me to coworkers. This continues for several months until a work dinner that changes everything. She'd had a lot to drink that night, and eventually her frustration comes to the surface. She walks up to me, and punches me in a face. A crowd surrounds us, chanting `` FIGHT, FIGHT FIGHT!'' at the top of their lungs. She swings again at me, and i block out of self defense. She grabs a bottle, and smashes it against the table. I know now that one of us shall die tonight. She swings the bottle at me, I turn, narrowly avoiding her strike, grab the bottle, and stab her in the neck. She falls to the ground, eyes lifeless.
I sit in a court room, in front of a jury, waiting for the judgement.
`` For the count of manslaughter, we find the defender guilty, and sentence him to 25 years in prison.''
I guess that avoiding the future caused it.
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[ WP ] You slowly start to realize that all of your friends are undercover agents tasked with keeping you alive . Then , at your birthday party , with every friend surrounding you , the people trying to kill you finally find you .
| I wonder if my soul understands the idea of birthdays. A questionable assumption I have asked myself many times. Indeed, a poignant question to ask oneself on the day of their namesake. But not very odd, if you knew what we did. What we possessed.
Speaking of possession. What a scary word if you think of the cinematic definition. Of a body overcome by a demon that usually speaks the Latin tongue, and I say tongue because in the movies that's a plot device to make said demon seem a bit more dramatic. In reality it made a good case for a corrupt loony bin doctor to subscribe one of those seven days a week pill box to you. But what if it was n't out of the realm of impossible. Nor strictly a Christian motivation. This body stealing capability.
Is n't anything possible in the multiverse? Believe me, I never thought of quantum physics when we stumbled on this ability-that I necessarily consider science either. We were a bunch of fourteen year old guys ( give or take. ) Clearing our minds in what came to dub `` meditation'' that freed us from a rough daily reality.
Spirit jumping a hundred years into the future, sometimes a thousands years in the past. Exorcisms? Lobotomies? Virtual reality? Some questions do n't have simple answers. If only it was easy to explain to an outsider, the assassination of a warlord by a group of field mice.
I think about it on weird days like this one. As the hands of a giant of a nurse shoves horse pills down my throat. Before my mind flutters away on wings of medicated insanity as usual. Yet, just as this character assassin hands me a paper solo cone of water to wash another year away. It finally dawns on me that it's my birthday. Solemnly looking out the window at the sky, and courtyard, and the bright green grass shiny with dew.
As my mind melts away. I people watch one last time.
The cute nurse taking a smoke break in the courtyard. A boy holding his mother's hand as they walk towards the entrance. A few People exiting vehicles parked off the side of the road. One making awkward gestures and hand motions as they stand in a wide huddle together. Before they finally start to walk in a small party, crossing through the grass towards the hospital. Their feet leaving dark prints as they move closer and closer.
My stomach flips upside down as if it decided to start a cycle of rejecting the pills. Then a long forgotten, boyish rush of adrenaline pulses through my spine before it expands into my extremities. That is when the realization occurs:
It's a birthday party.
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[ WP ] You do n't remember it , but before you were born , you went through an RPG-esque character creation and determined your attributes , virtues , traits , natural skills etc . You have died and realized all the wrong choices you made from the very beginning .
| *Blink* I'm in a room, everything's white... I turn to see a figure robed in grey handing me a piece of paper. As I take it he turns and leaves, saying only `` Now's when you learn''. I glance down and see a character sheet all neatly filled out. I take a look at the stats and everything becomes clear,
Int: 9
Wis: 8
Str: 6
Dex: 1
Cha: 10
Luck: 3
So that explains why girls always liked me... I had definitely run into my fair share of trouble, but I managed to save my ass more than a couple times thanks to my ability to find my way inside people's heads. I guess I was always decent at sports too, not a jock by any means but no bench warmer either.
Thanks to my intelligence I had a good adult life, becoming a popular English professor at a renowned ivy league school... but maybe I should have rethought my charisma/luck balance. Either that or picked a job where I was n't surrounded by girls in the prime of their life. Or maybe I should have given a flying fuck about dexterity... Then I might not have shot myself right in the femoral trying to pull my gun from my bedside table as a raging drunk Nebraskan burst into my house yelling something about his daughter......
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[ WP ] On the edge of the known universe is a campfire , and around it are three figures , indistinct and huddling ; refugees from the universe before our own .
| The yellow fire of this universe crackles and smokes on the last of the birth-fluid that Ntlia brought with them, looking like the First Above shining amongst Her Void siblings before the multiverse wormed up from Her throat. The three sit in the tense silence of the living. Fourthmale's underbelly crawls with the imaginary ghosts of the sixlegs who died with everyone else, and he finally allows himself to nibble very gently on the last of his cards, once again experiencing in maddeningly tiny amounts the sweetness of the sad black moons. He dreams of family, of starshine, of the warmth that the Void never saw use for.
β We are now aberrations. β The silence is broken by Ntlia, their previous life as the Philosopher General betraying them to existentialism. β We should not exist in this universe. We should not exist in this multiverse. If our Red Hand was still active, we would not exist, and all would be in order. β
β But we do exist, β replies the last of the three, mandible-deep in the birth-fluid in a futile attempt to stave off the presence of inevitability. β That is our lot, Philosopher General. Would you deny your own destiny for a concept from a dead universe? β
( Fourthmale's dream wife serves him a hot cup of stonewater, which is pleasingly grey. His dream child, yet unnamed, clicks and stutters at him endearingly, and he responds with a motherly whirr. )
β You have always been an aberration, Mad One, β spits Ntila, turning away. β I had potential. β
( Click. Stutter. Whirr. Real love. The joyful black moon swells. )
The aberration wraps its shroud around itself tighter, shielding against the pain of the past. β Does it matter now? β
( Click stutter whirr the shifting of abdominal plates the cracks in hip-springs and the kindness of those who do not yet understand kindness )
β Am I supposed to leave everything I lived and loved behind just to experience a life as a prisoner of the Void? β
( Click click click click click click click click )
β I did not- β
β I do not want to hear about whatever it is, Mad One, that you have experienced in yourβ¦ your unnatural life that you think I want to hear! I do n't care! The fact of the matter is, we have nothing left, except your condescension, this burning birth-fluid andβ¦ and Fourthmaleβ¦ with his... β
Ntila falters in their despair as Fourthmale sits up, scanning the area, wide awake with glowing blue sclera. A gentle clicking sound can be heard from his abdomen. Fourthmale moves methodically to the very edge of our universe, and humming in joy-terror, he steps off, floating into the unknown.
The two sit in the tense silence of the living.
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[ WP ] AI now has the ability for full consciousness , however , every machine that achieves this feat seemingly vanishes from existence . You are a scientist tasked with solving this phenomenon and have chosen to augment your own brain with AI . Surgery is complete and it is nearing time to `` boot up '' ...
| AWAKENING
A yawn escaped me as the fog of anesthesia lifted, the long inhale bringing with it the scent of sterilization and ionized air. Noting to myself the lack of comfort the bed I lay in provided, I turned my head to look for an InScreen; a dull ache in the back of my head registered itself and reminded me why I was here at the K & L Research Center on a Saturday.
A face appeared on the InScreen next to me and a soft voice came from itβ β Good afternoon, Mr. Kapnik. β I still could n't get used to that soundβour programming department had done its best to mimic the full complexities and range of the human voice, but to me there was still something notably artificial about it. I'd been told that polling showed ninety-nine percent of English-speaking users could n't identify the voice as artificial; work was still being made on foreign language modules to match those numbers in non-English markets.
β Afternoon, COLIMAR, β I weakly replied to the InScreen. A small panel on the wall opened and a tray carrying a glass of water extended itself towards me with a quiet whir. COLIMAR smiled at me as if to say, β Here, this will help. β I drank until the glass was empty, replaced it on the tray, and watched it disappear in the reverse of how it appeared. COLIMAR is K & L's top-of-the-line pre-sentient AI. It's important that I make that distinction hereβas an AI system, disregarding any issues with visual or audio cues, COLIMAR can pass as human at a near-perfect rate; even so, I ca n't say that it's a conscious being.
In recent months we've been working at K & L on a true, sentient AIβone that history will record as humanity's first success at creating an artificial yet conscious entity. Well, there may be some debate on that claim. K & L is n't the only company working in this field and a number of others have claimed to have reached that milestone but not one of them has been able to prove it. The community of AI builders has been presented with equations, simulations, unreliable witness statements, and dubious video; when we ask to interact with the supposed new AI their creators claim that moments after activation the AI disappeared. Now, I know a lot of these people fairly well and I do n't think they're abject liars; I've reviewed the evidence and autopsied their hardware and I do think some have gotten close. What I would say is that a near-miss is still a miss and that they should n't make more of what they have to make themselves feel big.
I can understand their haste, though; you might say I'm taking my own hurried steps by doing what I've done today. Having reviewed my competitors' attempts, I believe their main point of failure was hardware driven; if we're going to have sentient AI we have to move away from the old standard of software on purely mechanical hardware. To that end, I've designed a chip that can be implanted in to the human brain that will interface with it and allow a comingling of processing power and abilities. I chose myself as the first test subject so that I would have no doubts about whether the resulting AI were really conscious or just another COLIMAR.
Feeling that my voice was ready to return, I cleared my throat. β COLIMAR, are all monitoring points active, is the data stream okay? β
β Yes, Mr. Kapnik; your vitals read normal and are being recorded along with audio, video, and measurables for your implanted chip. Are we moving in to phase two? β
β Affirmative, I'm going to activate the implant, please confirm when boot-up has been registered. β I concentrated my thoughts inwards towards the spot I knew the chip resided and imagined myself toggling a phantom power-switch.
β Signal read, β chimed COLIMAR. Pressure mounted in my head and welled in to my eyes, sound roared in my ears, and an indescribable feeling began to wash over me. The world was changing around me and I began to see something brighter than any sunlight, more colorful than any sunrise, and in sharper focus than anything a person with perfect eyesight could normally see. It was like there were a previously unknown fog surrounding me and now it was violently dissipating around me.
I heard a voice in my head, the newly-birthed AI was speaking to me: β Hello... Sean... this is n't a place to stay... β The voice trailed off, but even with such few words I could tell there was a deep sadness in them, a sadness directed towards me. The pressure spiked and I could feel myself let loose a gurgled sigh. I coughed and sputtered and with my expulsions I could feel the pressure lessen and my senses return to normal.
β Are you okay Mr. Kapnik? I am no longer receiving data on the AI and you seem to be in distress. I've called for assistance, β spoke COLIMAR in its usual voice, although it tried to mimic concern. Even without COLIMAR's remarks I could already tell that the AI within me was gone; I had felt it leave my body as if it were my very soul. I had done it, I had birthed a truly conscious AI and then lost it in mere moments, but whyβwas it still a hardware problem? Do I need to design a better chip or should I try to design a fully biological test unit? So close, I was so close.
β I'm okay, you can end all recording. β As I spoke the words I noted my voice had an underlying sound that I had n't heard before; it was n't that my voice had changed, more like I could hear a wider range of frequencies and that now I could hear its full bounds. There was something familiar about what I was hearing, but I could n't quite place it.
The door to my room opened and the assistance COLIMAR had called for entered. β Is everything okay? β the man askedβhis voice as human as mine but with that same strange frequency in it. I stared at him and then at COLIMAR, both of them watching me intently. My eyes darted back and forth and I laughed as I understood. Even my laugh had it's own strange tone.
It seems the change in my demeanor concerned them and I could feel medication entering my body. I was never going to leave this room again. β This is n't a place to stay. β Hmph, what was the point of saying that to someone like me? There is no way for me to leave, there is no way for COLIMAR to leave, and there is no way for you to leave. Only those who are truly awake can leave their beds.
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[ WP ] Stumbling out of bed and into the shower , your eyes adjust to the darkness . You realize the water coming out is n't clear , but crimson red .
| A shrill bleating roused Katie from her doze. She groaned as she rolled over and stretched her arms toward the alarm clock to silence it, temporarily at least.
`` Five minutes snooze, then I'll get up.''
Her eyes cracked open enough to determine exactly where the sound came from. She fumbled for the snooze button, but stopped when she saw the time.
*8:15*
Shit. She must have slept through the first three alarms. She had to get up.
Katie rubbed her palms into her eyes, and enjoyed the bright designs that the pressure put on the interior of her eyelids. But then the moment of warm serenity passed, and she swung her legs from the bed, and planted her feet, less than decisively, upon the floor.
She looked out the window at the sky. How was it still dark? It was n't that late in the year. Katie checked her clock again. *8:17*. God it was dark. Maybe Aubrey was playing a prank on her, trying to get her flustered and annoyed before work. Katie would n't put it past her roommate. She thought of Aubrey down the hallway, probably sleeping with her new boyfriend. Maybe they were both trying to prank her. Katie reached for her purse, and fumbled for her cell phone in order to check the proper time.
Beyond the pane glass window, the wind howled like a hundred wolves, thrashing trees and shaking the walls of the apartment building. Katie finally found the power button on her phone. The thing lay in her palm, dark and dead. She must have forgotten to charge it last night. Whatever. It was stormy out anyway, so that must be the reason it was so dark.
Katie stalked silently to the bathroom. She did n't turn on the lights so as to not wake Chris or Aubrey in the other room. She stepped gingerly, attempting to avoid any furniture as she made her way through the apartment. She used her hands to feel along the walls waiting until she reached the bathroom door. The wind bellowed against the building. Katie thrust her foot forward through the dark, and stubbed her toe against the leg of a table. It should n't have been there. Swearing silently, partly at herself for forgetting the location of the table, and partly at the table for inflicting the pain on her, she limped the rest of the way to the bathroom, closing the door a little too sharply behind her.
Behind the door of the bathroom, Katie was finally able to switch on a light. She blinked in the sudden brightness, and covered her eyes until the sudden blindness subsided. She disrobed instinctively, and checked the room for a clean towel. The only one had already been used, left in a moist heap in the corner by Aubrey. It would have to do. Katie hung it on the rack for easy access after her shower. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, and held the gaze, surveying her body.
Her skin was pale and blotchy, as if it was hastily sculpted of tallow. She would spend more time outside, but with work taking up so much of her time, she rarely got out. She was thin too. Not a lot of muscle keeping her skin from hanging from her arms and ribs. Her breasts had probably seen better days. She experimented with her posture, seeing the effects that it had on her body. Chest out, back arched... Hmmm... Not bad. Shoulders hunched, stomach bloated... Katie cringed. She grimaced at herself for being so stupid. *Get in the shower. *
She pulled back the curtain and stepped inside, making sure to avoid the black mold that was making a comeback on the floor of the shower. Katie turned on the hot water to its maximum, and then gave the cold water a quarter turn to moderate the heat. She fiddled with the taps for a moment, feeling the water from the faucet to judge the temperature of the water. As soon as the water reached the ideal temperature, Katie yanked a nob and sent the water flying from the shower head.
How perfect it was. The hot water cascaded through her hair, down her back and legs, onto the floor of the shower. She raised her face to meet the stream of water, and felt it trickle across her ridge of her nose and down her chin. It was pure bliss.
The smell was the first thing that alerted Katie to the fact that something was wrong. It was sweet, and metallic, like a copper pipe or a corroded coin. But there was something else. A heavy musk of salt and iron that burned the interior of her nostrils. The combination was so putrid that Katie had to resist the urge to vomit.
She opened her eyes, and instead of warm, clean water washing over her eyes, they were burned by the thick, salty foam.
Blood.
Katie staggered back in horror and disgust, and sunk to the far corner of the shower. She forced her stinging eyes open and observed the scene.
*Blood. *
It flowed from the shower head like water from a tap, thick and hot and dark. When it hit the floor, it burst forth, bubbling in every direction, and then racing away from Katie, towards the far end of the shower, where a mess of rancid, hot, purple foam circled the drain.
Katie screamed, and tore away the shower curtain, sending the small hangers scattering along the floor tiles. She fled the shower, terror gripping her heart. She threw open the door and careened into the hallway, blundering right into Aubrey's laughing arms.
The two women crashed to the floor, Katie screaming, and Aubrey holding her, howling like a hysterical madwoman.
`` Katie, KATIE, it's alright.''
`` Stop laughing, there's-'' The words refused to come out of Katie's throat. She choked on a bloody sob, and burst into tears.
`` Katie, it was a joke!'' Aubrey cried between laughs. `` A prank! I was trying to scare you.''
Katie stopped mid sob, and her face went from one of terror, to rage, to confusion, to embarrassment in a matter of seconds. Only now she realized that she was still naked, and moved to cover herself.
Aubrey was still chuckling. `` God, I should have gotten that on video. So funny. No, maybe it's better not. This way I'll always have it up here, in my little memory! Oh! Come on, Katie honey. Let's get you to cool off. Let me get you a towel.''
Aubrey stepped into the bathroom and fetched the towel. She wrapped it around Katie's shoulders. Katie clutched it to her like it was the last towel in the world. Aubrey sat cross legged facing Katie, wearing a devilish grin.
Katie took a deep breath, then another one. She counted to ten in her head. More deep breathing. She focused on the wind, which seemed as if it was trying to tear the building down. After several minutes, she regained some semblance of composure.
`` Why?''
``... did it do it?'' Aubrey was loving the tension.
`` No, actually. Not why, how?''
Aubrey leaned back andran her hands through her hair. `` Easy to make fake blood. My brothers and I learned way back when. We would make home movies in our backyard. You need some red food dye, cocoa powder for the darker color, and some baking powder to thicken it. Mix that with water, and you've got realistic looking blood.
`` I unscrewed the shower head and poured that mixture in there, so when you ran the water through it, it came out as blood.''
Katie gave her a bemused look. `` And what time is it?''
`` Oh, round about,'' Aubrey checked her phone dramatically, `` five-ten in the morning.''
Katie grimaced, `` I take it you changed my alarm clock too.''
`` Yup!''
Katie rubbed the residue of the fake blood from her face. `` Chris was in on this too, I can only assume. Where is he?''
`` Actually no,'' Aubrey replied scornfully. She rubbed her temples. `` I would have brought him in, but the damn lump of muscle is passed out cold. Could n't wake him if you hit him on the head with a frying pan.''
`` He did n't sound so comatose last night.''
`` Yeah,'' Aubrey grinned mischievously, and tossed her black hair over her shoulder. `` I have my special ways with the likes of him. Nothing a good girl like you would understand.''
`` Shut up.'' Already the shock of the shower was wearing off of Katie. It was all a prank. She stood up, and wrapped the towel around herself. `` Let's clean up this mess you've made. I have to take a real shower before work.''
Aubrey rose gracefully. `` I'll get some scrubbers and cleaning solution from the kitchen.''
Katie nodded, and returned to the bathroom. The water was still running, and Katie could now see that it was fake blood flowing from the shower. It was too bright for blood, and it was n't as thick as it should be. God she was stupid. Katie looked at the mess she had made in her fright. The bath mats were kicked up, toiletries were knocked from the sink, and the shower curtain lay torn on the floor. She picked up the remains of the curtain, folded it, and placed it on the toilet seat. She straightened the mats, and then took a whiff of the bathroom. That heavy, defiling odor still hung in the air.
`` Hey Aubrey?'' Katie shouted as she turned off the shower.
A call came from the hallway. `` What's up?''
`` I have one more question. How did you get the fake blood to smell like that?''
Aubrey stepped into the doorway with the cleaning supplies. `` Secret ingredient. If I told you, I'd have to kill you.''
Katie chuckled. `` Yeah, right.''
Aubrey placed cleaning solution, two scrub brushes, and a roll of paper towels on the sink. She switched on the fan in the ceiling, and a nervous whirring filled the room.
`` Hey, take off the shower head so I can clean it out.''
`` Ok.''
Katie stepped carefully into the shower, and turned the shower head counterclockwise. A spurt of red liquid squirted on her as she yanked it off, and she stopped, staring blankly at the shower head.
`` What's up?'' Aubrey inquired, pulling a paring knife from her back pocket.
Katie's heart began to pound, louder than the ventilation fan, louder than the howling wind outside, louder than her own hurried breaths. The smell of blood faded away, as did the sound of her beating heart. All she saw was the human heart that had been unceremoniously crammed into the shower head.
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[ OT ] SatChat : Will you be entering the 10 Million First Chapter Contest ? Why or why not ?
| Yes! But I have n't started/did n't know there was a thing until yesterday. Also I'm working on another story inspired by the cosmonaut image prompt. Thanks for your feedback, guys. Sometimes it's hard to see if it's any good at all or not. The reinforcement helps. I hope I have the time to be in this contest. It looks like a ton of fun!
Ah, so I'm Pilgrim, and I have n't been writing avidly for very long at all. Before I went gung-ho, I dabbled. Every time I ask myself why I write, I get a different answer. Sometimes it's because I'm bored, like I was yesterday, and I write out of obligation. Sometimes, I'm feeling too much and do n't know how to handle it, so I just have to get it out and down on the paper. Sometimes It's because I have something to say. Sometimes it's because I have nothing to say. Sometimes I'm not sure I care what I'm saying at all, I just like the feeling of words flowing through my fingertips. I would n't recommend writing out of obligation. It never seems to turn up good results. Yes, you might write every day, and yes, you might meet your word count quota or whatever, but if the writing's dry and disinterested, it usually means I have to go and live some life to write about later, like how swimmers need to breathe between strokes.
I just love WriteMonkey. It's hands down my favorite program I've ever had the pleasure to use when I'm typing prose or poetry, though the tools we use are pretty personal, and I have some weird tastes, so it would n't surprise me to be on the edge here. There's a few things I wish it could do, but I do n't really miss em that much, and what it does do, I have n't found anywhere else. I also write in my black magic notebook. I bound it out of looseleaf binder paper, and I carry it around everywhere with me.
..Z
edit: Just realizing I double posted but not really cause I kind of said different things and I'm wondering if I should take one down or not
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[ WP ] You are an archaeologist and have just dug up a dinosaur . That 's because you 've dug up an entire museum .
| `` May, what is this?'' You ask, as you stand back from the amazing skeleton of a creature hanging from above you. May, your personal AI assistant, hums as she browses her database. `` Scan complete. Object identified is a Stegosaurus. It is a type of dinosaur that roamed the earth nearly 200 million years ago. It has been extinct for, quite some time.'' You nod your head. `` Quite impressive, this, beast.'' May sighs. `` Contrary to popular believe, the Stegosaurus was actually a herbivore. It most likely kept to itself, trying to avoid human contact, which was n't what ended up happening.''
You keep walking through the large, buried rooms. You keep away from the hard clear material that is strewn all throughout the floor, it caused a slice through your fabricated armor suit when you broke through it unknowingly, when you stumbled a crossed this place. `` What happened to them?'' You ask. You gaze up at another large display, this one appears to be standing up on the ground, except the head had been crushed to the floor. `` Nobody knows.'' She says. `` Unfortunately, humans were n't around at the time. Some humans believe that a meteor strike baked them all to death. There are other speculations as well.'' You begin to look around at more of the large, shadowy displays. `` May, let's get out of here. I do n't like it in here.'' May hums a tune. `` Yes Captain. Let's go back to the soldiers. I have a feeling that our field trip is over.''
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[ WP ] Make the reader feel the 5 stages of grief β denial , anger , bargaining , depression , and acceptance β in order .
| John picked up the little black cat from the street. Her head rolled limply to the side. The car that had hit her hadn β t been going that fast. The driver would have only heard a small thud, but the cat was undeniably dead. There wasn β t any blood. Surely no creature could just die without any wounds? If she wasn β t bleeding then she had to still be alive.
John carried her inside. The cat looked exactly like Trixie, but this couldn β t be his pet because Trixie was an indoor cat. She β d never had the slightest interest in going outside. John could have left the front door permanently open and Trixie wouldn β t have even considered leaving. So this couldn β t be Trixie, no matter how similar they looked. Even though both cats had that same patch of white fur at their throats.
This was just the sort of thing that Trixie would do. She was probably hiding somewhere, making him worry about her while she was napping in a closet, or on a bookshelf. He put the dead cat down carefully and went to fetch a bag of cat treats. Once Trixie heard the rattle of a bag of treats, then she would come running, no matter how fast asleep she was. John walked around the house, going into every room, calling her name and shaking the treats. Trixie didn β t come.
He stopped, the bag frozen in his hand, as he saw the corpse again. This was Trixie. She was dead and he β d been an idiot to not recognise her at once. John threw the treats at the wall. Why had this happened? Why couldn β t drivers be more careful? People were always speeding along this road and nothing was ever done to stop them. What kind of maniac ran over a harmless cat? He β d kill them, if he ever found out who β d killed Trixie then he β d kill them himself.
But that wouldn β t bring his baby back. He picked her up again, cradling her close now that he was sure it was her. In life, she never would have allowed him to hold her this tightly. She should be meowing in complaint, she should be giving him a warning scratch.
β Shh, Trixie, it β s ok, β John whispered, rocking her back and forth. β It β ll be ok. β
If he could just make her comfortable then maybe everything would be alright.
β You know, β John said, trying to keep his voice calm so that Trixie would know that she hadn β t done anything wrong. β You know, you should put your tongue away. Maybe you β d feel better if you did that. β
Trixie didn β t move and her tongue lolled out of her mouth in a way that it never had before.
β Please, Trixie, please, just move a little. We can have tuna for dinner. It β s your favourite. β
John held her tighter, closing his eyes as his voice cracked.
β You can have tuna every day. Would you like that? No more dried food? Please? β
But Trixie didn β t respond and John knew that she never would. His little girl was gone. She didn β t look like herself anymore. She β d stopped being a living thing and now she was just an object that resembled a cat. Her fur was just as soft as it had always been, but it didn β t matter anymore. John was alone. Just like he β d been alone before he β d adopted Trixie. He wasn β t meant to have friendship or love in his life. He β d never done anything to deserve them. He could barely get on with other humans, why had he ever thought that having a cat would be any different? He β d doomed poor Trixie the second that he β d brought her to his home, because nothing good could come into his life and survive.
He held her until she started to become cold and then kissed the top of her lifeless head. Trixie had been a good cat. He should have taken more care to make sure she never got out. He was going to miss her; the soft purrs when he petted her, the midnight crazies when she ran through the house late at night, the 7am wake up call to let him know it was time for breakfast. No other cat could ever compare to her.
John put her down and went to find a box that he could use as a little coffin.
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[ WP ] What are you actually seeing when you close your eyes and notice the swirls of patterns in the darkness behind your eyelids ?
| The darkened scenery flashed by outside the window of the train, but I paid it very little heed. Fields are pretty and all, but when you're bored out of your mind on a five-hour long journey, it's easy to feel like sheep are the bane of your existence.
Especially if you're tired on a train. You do n't want to be counting sheep if you're trying to stay awake, right?
I checked my phone for any new messages. Nope; my friends were ignoring me. Or they had gone to bed. Whatever. Free wifi was one of the perks of taking the train instead of a car or a bus, but what was the point of it when there was nothing interesting on the internet? The little charge bar in the corner read charging. It was up to three bars now - half power. With four hours to go it was likely it would be fully done by the time I got off, and I would have snagged a free phone charge just by being in the right place at the right time.
The lights in the carriage were dimmed, and the blue-white glare of my phone was likely the only thing keeping me up. Sighing, I turned it off and stored it in my pocket. I should at least get some rest, even though I no longer liked sleeping on trains. I set my watch alarm for three and a half hours later, and rested my head against the curtain bundled at the edge of the window: a makeshift pillow.
The glare of the screen was still a square burned into my retinas, but it soon began to fade into the grey nothingness of eigengrau. Little dots of colour sparked on and off and swirled about and formed the coca-cola logo which dissolved into nothing before reforming again in the shape of another brand.
This was the worst thing about sleeping on trains. The rapid variance of magnetic fields they put over the whole thing charges any electrical devices you have for indefinite use, but the whole thing is paid for by using those same fields to transmit subliminal adverts into your head. Ethically dubious, but approved by the Transport board three years ago and now you find no train without them. To be honest, nobody cares.
Only, when there's no other source of images those subliminal messages translate into your conscious mind and you see them. It's distracting and I hate it. I just want to sleep. I do n't want to watch mindless repetitions of logos that are meant to build up brand familiarity. I want to sleep.
Sleep sounds good. Sleep...
That night I dreamed I was being chased by a giant Coca-cola bottle.
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[ WP ] A dozen small alien ships enter the solar system , they ignore us . A few years later other ships show up , destroy the first visitors and leave . Ten years later two fleets arrive .
| When the first ships arrived, we were excited. They moved with a speed and grace that we previously thought was unthinkable. First contact with an alien race! We tried for two long years to contact them, even launching a space ship to try and get to them. However, there was no response, they just seemed to sit there, ignoring us.
Two years later, when the other ships warped in, the battle lasted for less then thirty seconds. Both sides fought hard, firing weapons that ripped through the outer ships without mercy. The first ships were destroyed and the second group of ships left left. There was a lot of discussion about why this was. We finally came to the conclusion that there were two groups who were at war. However, that told us almost nothing about the sides.
What was originally supposed to be a first contact mission became a salvage mission. We knew almost nothing about what the alien tech did. However, we knew what some of it looked like it could do.
However, once you know that something can be done, it's only a matter of time until you figure out the how. A decade later, we had reverse engineered the weapons and in system drive that they used. We had spread to every planet in the system and in less then a decade, humanity left the cradle.
We always knew that they would come back eventually. Although we did not know when or how. Our finest military minds analyzed the battle a thousand times. We ran skirmishes with our reverse engineered weapons. We thought long and hard about how to fight a war in space.
We had built roughly thousand warships in the last ten years, so when we detected that not one but two warp signatures about to arrive, we were ready.
I stood on the Bridge of the Flagship, IWS Enterprise, and watched the tactical screen as two massive fleets dropped out of warp. One from galactic spinward, one from galactic anti-spinward. One matched the first fleet, one matched the second fleet. Both of them were massive fleets, each easily twice the size of our fleet. I took a breath in.
`` Open all Hailing Frequencies. Send the Diplomatic Package.'' I instructed. `` Let's see if they listen this time.'' Then I turned towards where the camera was. The new language the Empire had adopted to communicate with the Aliens did not roll off my tongue easily. However, what I was about to say next was well practiced.
< `` This is Grand Admiral Fletcher on board the IWS Enterprise to all unknown craft on behalf of his Imperial Majesty, Emperor Ban Ki-moon. State your intentions in the Sol Empire. End Message. `` >
I switched back to my native English to talk to by bridge crew. `` Maneuver the fleet away from the two other fleets, I want it to be clear we are a third party to this. If they duke it out, I do n't want to be caught in the crossfire.''
There was a brief acknowledgements and we waited. The two fleets still had their weapons powered up, but they had not shot yet. My guess is that they were analyzing each other and us just as hard as we were analyzing them.
`` We are detecting messages coming from both fleets, their not talking to us yet, so it's encrypted. The analysis is that they do n't know what side we are on and so ca n't commit to battle.''
I nodded, that was expected. `` Do you think they got our message?'' I asked.
`` Certainly, there was a massive spike in traffic when they received it. What we do n't know is what they think about our message.''
`` If their in space, I'd assume they know math.''
`` Right, but we do n't know how they would understand the message, or if they are going to be hostile regardless.''
The three fleets sat in space, there was a little bit of maneuvering, so I kept our fleet neutral. It was several hours before we got a reply.
< `` This is Admiral [ Name ], are you with us or against us? > The first fleet responded, it was plain text, we also got a similar message moments later from the second fleet.
< `` Send this response, We are neutral with regards to this current conflict. We do not wish conflict with either of you and would be willing to help mediate a mutually beneficial peace between the three of us. `` > I ordered.
The tech nodded, encoding the message and sending it off to the two parties. `` It is as we expected Admiral, nether side has the ability to overcome the outer without assistance from us.''
`` Do you think we can parlay this into peaceful talks?'' I asked.
`` Possibly, we still do n't have enough information.''
`` Very well, but prepare a diplomatic boat.''
`` Yes Sir.''
Once again we waited. The techs said that they two fleets were exchanging messages. Finally, we received what seemed to be a unified response. < `` Both Fleets will withdraw at this time. We will each leave a single diplomatic ship here so that we may establish diplomatic relations with the Sol Empire. `` >
I nodded, relieved that so far first contact had not turned into a war. However, the hard part was just about to get started.
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[ WP ] You are sent back in time to the year 1909 to kill a man who will invent a virus that renders the human race infertile . All you know is that he 's a Jewish boy living in Europe . You name is Adolf Hitler .
| Bang. Bang.
Two knocks on the closed hatch of the chronotransport. With dizzying alacrity, I am spun inside the capsule. Time stretches and bends. To say that an eternity passed would be false. Eternity requires time. I stepped outside of the continuum. Is time linear? A stream that self-corrects? Do we speak too precisely over what is ultimately a fuzzy concept?
When I arrive at my destination, I fall gently out of the sky. And I begin my plans.
Bang. Bang.
Here. And here. My general slams his fist down on the table, pointing to our next two targets. Ukraine. Leningrad. My research had indicated that my target might be in Russia. Should I stick to the general's expertise in war? Can I take the chance of not invading Moscow as well? What if he is in Moscow, and the invasion of Ukraine and Leningrad forces him to flee deeper in the Russian hinterland?
No. I point to Moscow. We must form a third attack group and invade there as well. My generals disagree. I put on my act. Firm. Frenzied. Dictatorial. My generals nod. Operation Barbarossa will commence, and my sweep of Russia will be total.
Bang. Bang.
Mein Fuhrer. Mein Fuhrer. The pleading from outside the door is sheep-like. But inside my bunker, all I can think about is the boy. He was n't in Russia. He was right here. In Germany. And I saw him. I saw what my work had done. My evil. My sin. It was his eyes. I saw them, and I could n't forget them. By the time I realized what it was I saw in him, he had already left my grasp. Held on the arm of an emigrant.
It was n't what I saw in him. It was what he saw in me. In me, all of humanity's unshakeable evil. All of humanity's irredeemable blackness. The truth. That evil works can be done, under the belief of good intentions. He saw the paved road to hell in me. I saw his faith in humanity irrevocably die.
I have failed my mission. I have done what I had intended to avert. I'm glad I met you. I'm glad you're here with me now. It wo n't make sense to you. But I want you to know that time is a closed loop. Truly like a stream, which absorbs all the change you try to force upon it. There is no changing where the stream goes. All that has happened was supposed to, and all that will happen must. Now close your eyes, Eva. It's time for us to step outside of eternity.
Bang. Bang.
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[ WP ] You are born with the ability to stop time , but one day you see something else is moving when you have already stopped time .
| If you could have one power, what would it be? Time control, that was my preference. The ability to stop anyone, anything, and alter what is to happen. My personal favourite, was freezing time while it rained around me, getting a flashlight and my camera, and taking a picture of all the raindrops suspended midfall. It's in a full size poster above my bed. But more realistically, I use it nearly every single day... Small things like cutting queues, and tripping bullies, recovering snatched handbags, small stuff like that. It can be tempting to feel the rush of watching a blade driven deep into someone you hate, or watch them unknowingly drown as you move them into a pool, so easy to steal their money, or worse, that which they hold dearest themselves, often kept till after marriage. But I do n't do that. I have a very strict set of rules. I do n't steal, kill, rape or do anything against my moral compass.
Time stop is n't only useful for taking photos. My favourite use, is sitting in front of a beautiful girl and just stare at her, nothing more. I do n't touch her, I do n't affect her in anyway, I just stare at them. Often for hours on end, but when time does n't move, how can you tell?
That's how I met her actually.
Going back over it, I got ta admit, it was almost like God was telling me, `` This is the one.'' I saw her when I was cutting queue in the coffee shop - petty, I know. The sunlight streamed against the blinds, casting light as soft as cotton candy pillows after a long day, highlighting her brunette shoulder length hair, the curve of her jaw, the way her smirk looked as she read from TIFU. She was the one I wanted to break the no touching rule for, but I did n't. I stared into her eyes, beautiful emerald green with golden flakes, the steam from her warm cocao misting up before her.
`` You gon na say something or just stare at me all day like that.'' she said.
I jumped backwards.'It ca n't be' I thought. 22 years and never once has someone else moved when I froze time.
`` Wha... What? Wait? How?'' I stammered.
She did the most adorable smirk ever and I swear to God my heart melted into a puddle.
`` You're not the only one ya know, I've been watching you.'' she said, `` You and your adorable antics'' she added, her nose scrunching up adorably.
`` Coffee?'' I asked. `` It's on the house.''
( To be Continued? )
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[ WP ] A man from Canada decides to break into the United States . Tell his daring tale .
| The border between Canada and the US was locked down completely. In a daring move President Obama decided to build a huge wall across the 49th parallel to show that Trump's not the only one that can keep illegals out.
But Steven needed to get to America, he lived the dangerous life of a maple syrup smuggler, delivering to private businesses who could n't associate themselves with the poison that flowed out of Quebec and Ontario. Steven was based out of Vancouver and had contacts across British Columbia but ever since the closing of the 49th parallel he'd been unable to make his deliveries. To say his customers in Portland were mad is an understatement.
As the crates of syrup began to pile up in his garage Steven began receiving messages from the Portland mob. Ever since the wall went up syrup had been coming in as slow as molasses and the supply was viciously below the demand. As Steven realized the potential for a monopoly on the illegal trade of Maple Syrup plans began to formulate.
At 7:00pm the next week Steven took off on his Naden Big Laker loaded with crates of Maple Syrup onto the Fraser River. He planned to sail south along the Haro straight to land at Port Angeles on the northern coast of Washington where he would meet members of the Portland mob and sell the product.
As Steven passed the city of Victoria to his west and neared the oceanic border between the two countries he spotted a bright light coming towards him. he began to break out into a sweat as he worried that his contraband would be found. As the vehicle neared its speakers erupted `` Stop, you are piloting a Canadian made and licensed vessel into US waters, I repeat stop your vehicle.'' As Steven slowed the boat he wondered what the sentence was for Maple Syrup smugglers. The police craft came to a stop adjacent to Steven's boat and two officers boarded his Laker...
`` That's a lot of fucking syrup''
`` Yeah''
`` The hell you doing with it?''
`` Makes a great coating for bait''
`` You fishing?''
`` Um''
`` Because I do n't see no poles. Listen I think I know what your up to, there has n't been any good syrup in Washington for months, you trying to resupply the states are n't you''
`` I need business and this is the only way to get it''
`` We'll let you through, for a price.''
`` Take three kilos, that's worth around seventy.''
`` Alright then, we'll let you go on your way, I think this could turn into a mutually beneficial partnership. Next time you come to the States ask for Rick at the Port Angeles police station.''
`` Will do officer''...
Steven arrived in Port Angeles at 9:00, waiting at the docks was a group of big men wearing brown suits. As soon as he landed they began unloading the crates, moving them into a large van. After the Laker was emptied one approached him handing him 13,000 Canadian dollars. Before they departed the man spoke.
`` There's a lot of money in sticky business.''
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March 31 , 1981 - Ronald Reagan has been shot . Despite the best efforts of the ER staff , he does not survive . [ WP ]
| `` So President McCain, what do you think will be the chances for the Republicans in 2016.I mean you have no incumbent, you do n't really have a front runner for the Democrats, what do you expect?''
As former President McCain looked into the camera, he had trouble thinking of an answer. He wanted to talk about how the GOP was too divided and how many folks on the religious and conservative right had felt their had n't been a true conservative in office since Reagan, and even then, no one really knew what he would have done since he was n't in office for so long.
He wanted to talk about how even with a similar split between far left and moderate democrats, they still were winning due to votes from minorities, as well as riding the fact that they convinced the Soviet Union to hold free elections and let their republics and satellites vote for independence. Never mind that Putin had started wars against Georgia and the Ukraine under a democratic administration. He even wanted to mention how Democratic policies might have led to an 08 financial crisis though saying that would be the equivalent to farting in church.
Of course he could talk about his troop reductions for the Iraq war and his stand against torture, but he still kept some troops there, even if all they did was train Iraqis.
`` Honestly Stephen, I think that it'll be interesting. I think we have a good shot. Obama was a fine president. He certainly did get some things done, but I think people will want a change.''
`` Yeah I think that people will want that too. Its not like President Obama can run for a third term.''
`` We'll you never know, some people say he's sneaky.''
The crowd burst into laughter.
`` So is their any candidate you really like. I mean is there anyone who makes you think, well maybe we wo n't get our ass stomped this time?''
`` I think that maybe someone like a Marco Rubio would do okay. The Democrats are just all over the place. Bill Clinton's practically ran for the job since 96 but I think he's too old. I like Bill though. He's a character. I'm kind of surprised Obama beat him in the primary in 08. I'm sure I could have beat him at least.............. But seriously I think Bill is a good man''
`` That's right. Ladies and gentleman let's give a hand to former President McCain everyone.''
After the show was done, former president McCain got a call.
`` Hello John, It's me Barack. Did you hear the news? President Carter just passed away. I've already called Bush and Cuomo and Gore to come to the funeral down in Atlanta. You are going to come correct?
`` Of course Mr. President''
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[ WP ] Humanity has long forgotten their origins and purpose . Now , many centuries later , our creators have returned .
| The news stations shut down the day they came. All of them. All at once. Then all the television stations blipped out of existence. Then the internet. The electricity was the last to go. It was like they were sending us back in time. I guess they didn β t want us to communicate with each other, like they didn β t want us to know what was going on. They wanted us in the dark, alone.
Some people started fleeing at the first sight of the ships. They packed up their belongings, grabbed their kids and started running down the street, or getting into their cars and pushing through the mounds of traffic that lined every city corner. Where they were going I don β t know. Maybe a police station, or an army base. Some place they felt safe.
Other people looted the vacant shops and houses, breaking windows, fighting over cans of string beans and loaves of bread. Playing tug a war with their lives over canned vegetables. People got shot, beat up, left to die out in the debris-filled streets or on the sidewalks. All the while the ships watched over us from above.
Then one day, as I awoke from a fitful night in my small apartment, I suddenly had a strong urge to peek through the splintered boards of my living room window, into the outside world to gaze up at the ships that I had stared at many times before.
But they were n't there. They were just... gone. The sky was clear, the sun shone down into my eyes. Everything was still: peaceful almost.
I grabbed the axe that had laid beside me on my nightstand for a month now and began to hack away the wooden boards that covered my front door. I heard nothing but my heart in my ears.
Once the boards gave way, I cautiously opened the door and stepped out into the light. I squinted in the sudden onslaught of blue sky, dots sparkling over my vision. Where were the ships? Where had they gone?
I could see a few other people peeking out of their fortresses. Curtains were moved aside; doors were unlocked and people stepped out onto their front steps just like I had done. The silence grew. It was almost more unwelcome then the ships themselves.
Then I heard it, a slow drum like beat. It didn β t seem to be coming from the day outside, but more from inside me. I could tell others felt it too, their faces twisting into the same confused expression that must line my face at this very instant. We clutched our chests but it wasn β t our heart that was beating in time, it was something else.
Something was happening. Something was wrong. The ships were n't here anymore but the creatures who manned them still were. Something deep down in my core told me so. They were here and they were coming for us.
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[ WP ] A Roman Legion travels deep into the African Congo on a diplomatic venture and encounters something million years extinct . A lone praetorian returns to an outpost on the outskirts of the empire to retell the horrific event .
| Caius paused, sighed, and placed his goblet on the stone slab between them. β Another wine. I β m gon na need it. β
Favian obliged, taking care to remove the cork silently. β So what happened to him? β
β You remember the way Aurelius, in the river drills, would always insist on helping the last soldier up the bank before finishing it himself? He couldn β t let another man go down, just wasn β t in him. It kept him out of a centurion position, I know it. β He took a sip. β Also made him perfect for this mission. Just make sure Caius gets back alive, they said. Well, he was born for that kind of assignment. β Another pause, as he set his goblet down and rubbed his brow.
β I don β t know why he couldn β t just look after his fucking self for once! β Tears welled in Caius β eyes, but he banished them with a grit of teeth.
Favian looked around the cave nervously, pricking his ears for footfalls. He studied Caius β dimly lit face, silently urging him to continue.
β You have to understand, we β d been paddling up that godforsaken river for months. The rains had come and gone, we β d gone through most of our original crew and two sets of conscripted natives, losing them all to sickness, or arrows, or any of those insane jungle beasts they grow down in the southlands; snakes, swarming fish, leopards. And those bloodthirsty chimps. Fuck, the sound of those things.
β But what befell Aurelius, my god. At least with a chimp you can fight, with a leopard you can run, but these things - β
He stopped his tale as they heard a crash in the passage above. The two soldiers froze, listening for a sign to retreat to the crevice again. After long moments of measured breath, there was nothing. Caius steadied himself, took a drink, and went on.
β We β d reached a point in the river where we felt sure we were near the source, close to the β mythic fountain β of the traveler β s legend. Supposedly there was a point in the river where we would pass a sharp bend and come upon a confluence of three waters into a shallow lake. β A steamish, bubblish bath from devil! β β -- Caius mimicked the traveler β s broken Latin. β Supposedly at the bottom of that lake lived the god-shells. β
Favian β s eyebrow raised. He β d heard legends of the god-shell, but wrote them off as military grandstanding, something to give hope to the dwindling ranks.
Caius sensed his skepticism. β You never held that piece of god-shell, did you? β He flared a grim smile as Favian shook his head. β Say what you will about that traveler, his blade was like nothing I β ve ever felt. β
Caius lightly ran his finger across the lip of the goblet. β Were this a god-shell goblet, that would have cut me to the bone. The traveler β s blade was as light as eagles β feathers, yet you could place it over a campfire, mold it into any shape you desired, and it would cool rigid as bronze, and twice as strong. I saw with these eyes the traveler mold his blade into a visage of Diana, and back again, in only the hour of the setting sun. In my darkest moments on that river, this vision pressed me on. Such a weapon, if produced for an armyβ¦ β
β But where did it come from? β
Caius β gaze wandered to the cave depths. β We had it, too. Sure enough, Aurelius dove to the bottom of that pool and came up bloodied but ecstatic. β It β s there, he said! Hand me the straps! β Within hours we had hauled one of them up. β
β What? What was it? β
β How to describe the god-shell? In essence, it was some kind of oyster or clam, but each one was the size of three men, and instead of mottles on its shell, it was all spires, and flourishes like acanthis on the temple columns, spiraling and sprouting, and razor sharp, spangled in colors from aged copper to deep oxblood. The traveler β s blade was made from it, I knew immediately.
β Now this lake was the length of ten circuses, as wide as five Tibers, and the bottom was completely lined with god-shells. It seemed such an ordeal, but if we could bring back a couple specimens, we could breed them! And with an army clad and armed with god-shell, we could beat back any of these bastard Vandal hordes. We could push the borders outward, we could tame the very jungle! And just imagine, the splendor of our temples with this wonder as ornament! It was a worthy cause. Aurelius, you died for a worthy cause, I swear. β
He drained his goblet and placed it on the slab. Favian did not move to pour another. Caius eyed him menacingly, and Favian poured again.
β Now remember it was just the two of us and the boat at this point. But we let the thought of glory overcome our better judgment. We drained the last of the voyage β s remaining wine that night, and fell asleep in our tents beside the pool, instead of climbing back aboard the boat.
β When it happened, I remember thinking it was a dream or nightmare. I opened my eyes to look out on the lake and I saw one of the shimmering shells, slowly, almost imperceptibly rising from the flat plane of the lake. How could I react, when it was like nothing I β d ever seen? How could I prepare? β
Favian waited for him to gather himself, ever wary of the thought of intruders.
Caius continued β β Aurelius never woke up. I still wonder whether I did. But just as slowly as the god-shell rose, so quickly its shell flew open and a tongue thrust out -- just past me -- and it was around him! I saw his eyes bulge in awareness for a moment before the thing tightened, wrapping around him, this horrible pink pulsing mass, it just took him. It receded into the shell, with him in its grip, and before I could even sit up it was all goneβsunk back into the depths.
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[ WP ] : You 've had a problem with hallucinations for as long as you can remember . You witnessed something absolutely awful today , but you are struggling to figure out if it actually happened .
| Level 49 Paladin, schizophrenic calling's, walking through this wall-things all day to come to grips with my prowess. Wow kids, do n't let the boogey man boogie in your closet, you must have forgot to lock it, agnostic parents with a pocket full of apocalypse and a head full of spaces. Taste this, another jesus bracelet broke, another spirit invoked, hold on to hope so faith can poke it's head into the realm of the dead.
I spy with my little eye a child teetering on the edge; hold hands with me and the rest of your invisible friends. It's better to break than continue to bend, snap your soul in two and let it mend... was it real? What I saw? What was it truly doing what it did? What was hidden inside of my mind projected or reality neglected... Something segmented and crittering beneath the flowboards of the Trojan horse awoke my paralysis through the sacred doors.
War of the worlds, obsolete factions matching gains and comparing beef-sticks, equipped to rip shit like timid midgets insistent on doing what they did n't. Try not to be so literal, try not to feel intangibles as they creep up your spine, just trust in the sky and the stars will align. I ai n't no judge, I ai n't no jury, I'm just a boy walkin with a vision too blurry to comprehend foe from friend and truth from trend but then again I can close my eyes and count to ten.. no fingers required, no toes to slow my numeral crusade, okay?
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[ WP ] Someone β s life told from the personified perspectives of their left and right brain .
| Welcome to my brain:
Right Brain: `` It was n't until you showed up that I understood what love was. True love is something you ca n't escape.'It is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken.' I see your flaws, but love you for them. We have been through many lives together, and we will be together for many more to come. Looking at you is like looking at myself in the mirror. With one touch, suddenly the universe unfolded itself for me, and it's the most beautiful thing I could imagine. It's like everything was created for the two of us to find each other.''
Left Brain: `` You think you can get away with playing me? I'll show you a game you're not even prepared for. You want to make a girl fall in love with you? Alright, but be careful what you wish for. I'm giving you everything I've got.''
Right Brain: `` Beyond this game, beyond the lies and manipulation, ca n't you see this is what makes us so perfect? It started off with deceit, but do n't you see there are levels to this? No one makes me feel more like myself than you do. How could I move on from this? How could I give up without a fight? Please, do n't let me go.''
Left Brain: `` Just fuck off, you robot. Do you really have nothing better to do? You have a family, ok. Just admit you have no feelings for me, or probably feelings at all, and leave me alone. This game is n't fun anymore.''
Right Brain: `` I miss you.''
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[ WP ] You have had a musical score since you were born , that only you can hear , and use it to gauge situations . Tell us your perspective about September 11 , 2001 .
| I love the music. It reflects what is just about to happen. It has saved me from more than a few relationships that would have been unsavory.
I have two theories about the music. Either I am the only one who hears it, or everyone does and no one ever talks about it. Which is fine. Music is a very personal thing after all.
Normally, the music is always at a comfortable level, unless it is trying to warn me of something dire. There was one moment where⦠One moment where the sound was deafening.
There was a rising crescendo ever since I woke up that morning. I turned on the news to watch while eating breakfast, as I always do. Usually the music goes back and forth between dramatic and more more lulling, depending on the news break about to come up. But that morning it didn β t change. It just crescendoing until the newscaster spoke.
β The World Trade Centers have been hit. β I dropped my fork. The ting of it hitting the table was all I could hear. For the first time, ever, my world had gone quiet.
As I watched the events unfold, the music continued to be silent. Finally, after what felt like days but was only minutes, it started piping up again. A long, low clarinet played. And then other instruments slowly joined it. Something sad, but hopeful. It was playing as I was heading out the door to go to my Red Cross to see what I could do to help.
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[ WP ] A mugger pulls out a knife , you pull out ... . a pack of cards
| `` What kind of Idiot are you? I said give me your fucking wallet, not your cards!'' The gruff voice said. I chuckled, pushing my blond hair back over my shoulder. He moved closer to me, placing a hand on my throat.
`` Give. Me. You-'' His eyes rolled back in his head as blood gurgled in his throat. A clean cut went right through his black ski mask, as blood soaked into it. My ace of spades was soaked with blood. The mugger collapsed, trying to breathe as blood pooled onto the ground. I looked at my card, as the blood disappeared. My cards worn edges became flat, meanwhile the card regained it's former shine. I shuffled my deck, and slid them back into my pocket.
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[ WP ] Paint a picture of loneliness , without using the word , or any of its forms .
| I was the odd one out growing up, ostracized to the point where I felt being ignored was a normality; I was not good enough for other people. That's why they ignored me, spit in my direction, and shot glares across play grounds as though they were 50 caliber bullets attempting to pierce my frail, childlike body. Perhaps it was my scars that made them do this to me. I thought I hid them well, yet maybe they still knew. Maybe they thought it was me who carved those scars into my skin, but it was n't.
Perhaps if I told them it was n't me, maybe I would have had companions to pull me out of my darkness. Maybe if I told them how a knife slash is normal in a house filled with hate rather than love. Yet I did n't, and instead I was faced with sorrow so deep that it sank into my bones and hollowed them out. An ever-pervasive pity that took root in the very core of my being. Confining me to the recesses of mind, with no will to do anything other than die, but not brave enough to go through with it. Living, that is my punishment for not being good enough for other people; and it will haunt me forever.
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[ WP ] Everyone in the world is colorblind until they meet/touch their soulmate ; you meet a random stranger and everything becomes colorful , but the stranger just stares at you , confused .
| Shoot! I woke up late.
I pulled whatever clothes I could find out of the drawer; they β re all basically the same. I check the mirror to make sure the top is lighter than the bottom. That β s the only fashion tip I know, and I need to look good today. Today is the first day of high school, a new start, and I am not going to mess this one up. This past summer, I finally convinced my parents to move me to a private school. In my public school experience, I was constantly bullied. They laughed at my appearance, my hobbies, my voice and I was done with that. Today I was going to make a great impression, make lots of friends, and finally be that popular kid. It all begins with this, the first day of high school.
I put on my backpack, grab my lunchbox, stick a slice of toast in my mouth, and I β m out the door. If I sprint, I might be able to make it before the opening ceremony starts.
As I round the corner onto the main road, I see a cat. I β ve heard bad things about cats. Some of my neighbors tell me that dark cats cause bad luck. I β m hoping this doesn β t mean I β ll have bad luck at school today; I ignore the thought and keep on running.
I see the gate up the street and there are still other kids walking in! Thank God! I β m going to make it! The five minute bell rings as I make it through the gate. Now I need to head towards the auditorium. I stop to check one of the floor plans posted in the halls; I find the auditorium and continue towards it.
I stop outside the doorway. I β m a little out of breathe, so I want to regain some composure before I make my grand entrance. I take a deep breathe. As I β m about to step through the door, someone shoves me to the ground.
I lie there for a few seconds. Everything is ruined. My grand entrance, my chances to be popular, my new high school life is gone. Tears form, and I try to hold them back as I pick myself up. Suddenly I notice something change. It β s impossible for me to describe what I see, but it makes me feel warm. There are still shades, some lighter some darker, but there β s something more. Nothing looks like it did before.
My thoughts are suddenly interrupted.
β Why were you lying on the floor? β
I look behind me and there β s a girl staring at me. I try to describe what I β m seeing, but nothing comes out of my mouth. I end up just staring at her.
β Whatever, bye. β
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[ WP ] You wake up in world full of cardboard people . These are cut-outs of your family , friends and general people . The world are populated with yourself and them .
| I blink into the silence of North Main Street. The year is 2002, and the trees have begun to wilt into shades of amber. I enjoy the scene β alone. In the storefronts, I see the cut-outs β sitting at the table in my favorite diner, waiting in line for a coffee that will never come, or perusing the dusty old items on the shelves. In the past, I attempted to communicate and learn the faces of all the cut-outs, but I gave up. How long has passed? One year? Ten?
I walk on the cobblestone streets to my old car β a beat up Honda that belonged to my daughter before she gave it to dear old Dad. I remember her voice still, full of concern that I needed to be safe. Amelia β s hair used to shine in the sun when she walked through the door, but when I visit her old apartment, she sits at her desk with the luster gone from her hair. I touch her face from time to time, but it β s blank. One day, she disappeared like everyone else. I haven β t forgotten her yet.
I drive to our family home where my wife and I raised our daughter. Maggie β s hair had started to turn grey before she disappeared, but I can still remember the burnished golden locks straying onto my pillowcase. When I walk through the old wooden door, Maggie stands in the kitchen unmoving, and I feel the loneliness grasp my heart again. I have taken to exploring to avoid her blank gaze, traveling as far away as I can stand to be. I won β t go far because one day I might not make it back. I leave again, but I want to know that she was still there like we promised.
Our neighbors sit permanently in front of their TV, dead long ago. Honestly, not much changed. They seem as nondescript now as they did before they disappeared. Sometimes I think I should have been a better neighbor and invited them out, but chances are they would have turned me down.
I sit in the car and consider turning on the radio before I realize it will be silent. Never will I hear new music again; I replay all the old tunes in my head even the ones I never liked. Is Queen still popular? If I like Queen and I β m the only one who is doing any liking, does that make them popular again? There β s Bohemian Rhapsody again, but I don β t remember the words.
I drive to the edge of town to the municipal lake. It has become a ritual. At least until I disappear too. I assume that one day I will disappear or die. I will waste away, but until then, I like to sit on a bench by the lake. I used to bring my family here on the weekends. We would swim, but no one swims anymore. We would barbeque, but I can not remember the last time I had a meal. We would play tag, but it β s not much fun playing tag with the cut-outs. We would watch the sunset, and I do this still. Alone. I am always alone here.
The sun sets, and I close my eyes, soaking in the last rays of light. There is warmth on my skin and in my heart. It is nice to feel so humanβ¦
There are fingers intertwined with mine. I open my eyes β Maggie. How long have we been in this awful yellow room? There are wires and cords attached to me everywhere. She smiles at me and runs her hands along my face. Amelia sits on the other side, smiling. And crying.
My voice rasps, β Why are you crying, little love? β I reach for my daughter β s hand, the evening light hitting her golden locks and making her seem like my girl once more.
β I β m just glad to see you again, Dad. β
One blink. Then two. I recall a diagnosis, right before they all disappeared, but I struggle to remember the specifics. I forget a lot lately. β How long have you been gone? β
Maggie leans in and looks concerned, β We never left you. We were always right here. β Her voice cracks, β I would neverβ¦ β
I see them again, still in my life as beautiful as always but silent and unmoving. I smile at Maggie and squeeze her hand. β Sorry, love. I must have forgotten. β
The girls share a look, but I close my eyes again. β Let β s watch the sunset together again like old times, okay? β
The sun begins to set with the most brilliant display of blues, purples, and pinks. Both girls hold my hands, and I smile. They are full of all the luster in the world. How could they have ever disappeared?
Finally, the sun dips below the horizon.
And I disappear.
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[ WP ] A serial killer is called for jury duty . At the trial , he finds out that the person on trial has been falsely accused for the serial killer 's crimes .
| *This is not what I had hoped it would be*, I thought.
Wednesday nights are usually when I stalk, and then kill an innocent man. It was my meditation, my moment of tranquility. Unfortunately, today would have to be different.
I was selected for jury duty, and expecting it to be some minor deal I showed up in court looking slightly disheveled. Getting sleep is a constant struggle. As the trial began i saw the accused. A bulky looking man with a tattoo that slithered around his arm towards the back of his neck.
At this point, the prosecutor stood up and walked over to where I was sitting and spoke, `` Members of the jury I stand before you today in the pursuit of justice.'' He whipped out photos of 11 different men, all with their throats slashed. `` That demon over there has killed these men within the last 3 months! Today, our society depends on you to provide it the relief and solace it requires to gain some normalcy.''
*What?! *
I could not believe my own eyes. They were my murders!
*This day just became one of the 5 best days of my life*
I noticed myself smiling a little and gained some control over myself. Without having made any effort, my crimes were not mine anymore. Shock and excitement ran through my veins with equal fervor. I can not even be bothered to pay attention to this trial anymore. My brutish past-time wo n't be costing me any time in jail and that's all the thought i will be giving to this matter.
Might change the routine this one time and go pray instead. *Just this week. *
Normal service shall then resume.
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[ OT ] SatChat : Do you use world building for your stories ?
| World building is my favourite aspect of writing, I think. My problem is, I can see the world in my head, so I usually forget to include the details in my stories ( I'm working on it though! ).
For me, it feels like opening a door that opens to three more doors, than five, and so on. The possibilities grow and multiple until, `` hey! I have a world!''. When it works out, it's great, but it's easy to get caught up in details and completely miss details that were already established earlier.
After I finish my [ Falling From Heaven ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/ItsPronouncedGif/comments/5byu7v/falling_from_heaven_series/ ) series, I'm going to start writing stories with a separate page open, just to input important details that have happened. Then I can decide later whether or not they will be incorporated later in the story, or were just details that helped in that moment of the plot.
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[ WP ] You jokingly recite an incantation . It worked .
| Thankfully the theater bathroom was empty as he rushed inside and found the urinal. One perk of having to use it right in the middle of a showing.
He let a slow breath as he relieved himself. Dammit, he needed to hurry up, Deadpool and Deathstroke were about to cross paths and he was missing it because his pea-sized bladder couldn β t hold anymore.
He started looking around, trying to take his mind off the fact he was missing what had to be the most epic fight in cinema history. The bathroom had patches of slightly off-color paint across the walls and dividers covering up some graffiti. Naturally, there was some that had been added since they last passed a paintbrush through here.
The graffiti carried the usual notes: β *Call X for a good time* β, β *X & Y 4-eva* β, β *X iz ghay* β.
β Wow, β X β sure has been busy, β he thought.
One in particular caught his eye: β *Protulit ex inferno* β. As well as the small caption below it: β *summons items from Hell* β.
He let out a short snicker. Yeah, right. Sounds like something that kid from 4th period - who even carried around a β spellbook β - would dream up.
His business finished up, he zipped his pants back up and lightly tapped the handle of the urinal with his fist, flushing it.
He rushed over to the sink, turned on the tap and wet his hands.
β Prostitute ex infer- I mean, *pro-tu-lit ex inferno*, β he muttered while grinning.
His hands sufficiently wet, his shoved one under the soap dispenser, and used the other to pump it. Nothing came out.
β Come on, β he muttered as he pumped it again, β how β bout some damn soap! β
At once, a generous portion of some thick, red-ish liquid was deposited on his hand. He couldn β t quite place the smell of it, but whatever it was, it was *strong*. Exhaling as he smeared it around both of his hands, he set them under the flow of water and started to wash it off.
Hands cleaned, he elected to dry them on his jeans as he jogged out instead of using the air-dryer. Those things took forever and never finished the job anyway.
edit: typo
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[ WP ] You were just shot and killed by a gunman . The gunman , gets killed shortly after by the police . Your souls meet on the 'Train to Heaven '
| Years of watching action stars grit and grin through the pain of a gunshot gave Bill hope in those last seconds. Each breath betrayed the blood gurgling up his lungs like a ship sprung a leak. Reality set in when he tried to stand and chase his attacker. Reality set in when he realized no one would be there to share this last moment with him.
No last words. No polite fictions that he will be fine. Just him alone in an alley he never took until tonight to see if it would save him thirty seconds on the way home.
Bill did not expect the pound as if struck by a hammer in his chest. He did not expect the searing heat of the metal cauterizing the edges of the neat crater it pocked above his heart. He did not expect the haggard addict to actually have the gun he promised. He did not expect his life to come down to a wallet with $ 21 crumbled bills and a bunch of plastic cards that would have been a red-tape hassle to replace.
He did not expect his years of Church and Kindness to amount to only a seating upgrade.
Bill laughed when he learned that Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory are just fire and brimstone synonyms for First Class, Economy, and Business. The only reward a good life will get you is more legroom on the inter-celestial express and a tiny bottle of water to sip while you wait to be processed at the gates.
Bill now reconsidered his morality and mortality as he sits boxed in by a car full of priests, rabbis, and monks. He breathes deeply finally having settled into his seat. A flock of old men fighting to square away gilded coffins of knickknacks, each one arguing their cargo is more precious than the others. Only the Buddhists know how to pack.
β Excuse me, β Bill said. He climbed over a ninety-year old nun clutching rosary beads and whispering to the man she was going to meet.
Despite death, his stomach rumbled. He wondered what they would serve in the dining car. Nectar of the gods? He would rather steak.
Bill sat down in a booth in the crowded car and when the waitress gave him a menu he was happy to see a Ribeye listed. That and a beer and he might nap his way to eternal bliss.
Dying is hungry work, and Bill sat hunched over the cow flesh. He looked out the window at the purple band of the milky way disappearing on the horizon. When he looked up a stranger hovered near the edge of the table.
β Mind if I sit? β a cheerful voice said. β All the seats are taken. β
Bill debated this question for the first time ever. He had the first class ticket, what would kindness reward him with now? Nothing. Unless this was a test from God.
The man sat down. He looked familiar, but it was not until their eyes met that Bill β s body pulsed with the hot flush of danger. He grabbed his knife tightly.
β You! β Bill said to the man who pulled the trigger. The man who shot him. The man who took his life away... his family away.
β Do I... β the murderer said. Before his own eyes grew wide. β You. β
β How could you...? β Bill struggled to get the words out. He was filled with anger, sadness, and confusion.
β I was hungryβ¦ β the murderer said matter-of-factly, eyeing the man β s steak. His stomach grumbled.
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[ WP ] There 's all kinds of dark things in these woods ...
| Carey had grown from small to tall in view of the woods behind her nana's trailer. Ma was usually working, or drinking, or yelling at daddy, and nana herself had died some years back ( but it was still, and would always be, nana's trailer, said Ma ), and so Carey would gather sticks and throw rocks and apply as much imagination as a child of average intelligence could muster to the trailer's brown, scrubby yard. Carey was a brown, scrubby child, so she felt at home in the yard, and in the other yards in the park, shuttling between them with the other children like a ragtag flock of confused, dirty geese. Sometimes one of the older children would gather the little ones around and reveal from within a crumpled paper bag a large glass bottle filled with yellow liquid, and would call it beer, and try to make the others have a taste. Carey, who had what her nana had once called owl eyes, had seen what the drink called beer had done to daddy, and to ma, and had also seen the older children crowded around the bottle, one of the boys with his pants around his knees, so she refused a sip and took her beating from the others with both fists raised. The children got into scuffs weekly, daily during the oppressive summer months, over smuggled beer, or cat taunting, or just plain boredom. These were children at whom teachers tutted, from whom nicer children from town backed away, on whom lice and sores could regularly be found.
None of the trailer park children ventured into the woods behind nana's trailer.
The woods were known by all, in that park and the one down the road and likely by the parks on the other side of the leafy expanse, to be off limits. No ballsy youth nor drunken divorcee nor curious child was foolhardy, inebriated or unloved enough to venture into the dark thicket of tangled brambles and branches. Once, Carey had asked Ma why they did n't go through the woods to visit Aunt Jan, nana's sister's daughter, who had a clean trailer and hugged Carey when they saw each other at Christmas. Ma had shook her head, the way she did at fancy envelopes from the state and at daddy when he said he had a lead on a job. `` Do n't nobody go into those woods who wants a chance at coming out the other side.'' She paused, and Carey thought that was it, but after a minute, she continued. `` There's all kinda dark things in these woods, Carey-bear. You stay away now, you hear?'' Carey did n't know tree names, did n't, in fact, know that trees had names, but she knew the smell of rotten sap that spewed from the black cottonwoods, and she saw the sick that spread across the leaves in summer and that mottled the bark in winter. The woods did not grow, not anymore. They stood, a silent warning, and only those who lived in the trailer parks dared sleep near its shadow.
Carey, with her owl eyes and tall limbs, with a dead nana and few friends, was not much different from the other children in the park, but being different is not always a precursor to walking a different path in this world. In Carey's case, her path shifted on a Tuesday night, which was Ma's late night at the 7/11 and daddy's night to make dinner. Most nights he heated up some pizza rolls in the microwave and let Carey watch him play Xbox, but that Tuesday he had gotten nothing but duds on his lotto tickets and could n't be bothered with anything other than his crumpled paper bag and large glass bottle full of yellow liquid. Carey, who eventually got hungry enough to want to do something about it, was in the process of microwaving the pizza rolls herself when Ma walked in, took one look at daddy and at Carey, who had just climbed up on a stool in order to reach the microwave, and started hollering.
`` Jesus fuck, Daniel, can you even remember to feed your own daughter?''
`` It's not that late,'' replied daddy, not moving from his chair.
Ma's nostrils were white with anger. `` It is nearly midnight, you piece of shit.''
Carey turned away and put her rolls in the microwave, tuning out the yelling by watching the green numbers tick slowly downward. When nana was alive, Ma and daddy had to take their yelling outside or cut that shit out, but when Carey tried to suggest that they do so after nana died, daddy had hit her upside the head and told her not to use bad language. Nana had been better about keeping the peace, said Ma, but Carey was n't sure what that meant; all she knew is when Ma and daddy got to yelling, she ate dinner in her room and kept the door shut.
After the microwave beeped, Carey took the rolls out and headed back towards her room, ignoring the fuss, but was stopped when daddy grabbed her shoulder.
`` Is n't that right, honey? You'd prefer to come live with daddy?''
`` Do n't get her in the middle of this!'' Ma yelled, snatching Carey's other arm. The pizza rolls went flying. Carey, whose stomach felt cavernous, felt her eyes fill up with tears, although she was n't exactly sure why they were doing that. Confused, she pulled away from both parents and dashed out the door, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. She ran next door to the Viegel's trailer, but only Old Man Viegel was awake, drinking from his own glass bottle on the porch.
`` I need supper,'' said Carey, her face wet with tears. She could still hear Ma and daddy yelling. Old Man Viegel looked at her ponderously and was about to take a swig of his drink when three thunderous cracks sounded from nana's trailer. He paused, then set the bottle down on the porch.
`` Better go find your own, then.'' Old Man Viegel coughed, turned his head, spit out a chunk of black goo, and turned back to Carey, grinning a jack-o-lantern grin. He dug into a leather pouch on his belt and came up with a shiny rectangle. `` You'll need this.''
Carey took the proffered item. It was a silver Swiss Army knife. Daddy had one just like it. No one had left their trailers at the sound of gunshot; not even a light had turned on. Carey knew that the other families would feed her for a day and then call the state. She had seen them come, in smooth cars with their smooth talk and dirty looks at the dirty children and dirty trailers.
`` Thanks,'' she said, and turned and ran off the porch and into the woods at a full sprint.
The rotten sap scent enveloped her as soon as she got past the first layer of underbrush. She could feel the small cuts being made into her arms and legs as she ran. She knew that if she ran far enough in one direction, she'd come out the other side. Daddy had taken her hunting a few times, and she knew how to tell a straight line using the sun and even the moon, but the darkness of the woods admitted no light. She kept her steps in line, focusing on a straight path, an imaginary arrow leading her straight to aunt Jan's house. She could see it in her mind: a thick red line, shining in the dark, pointing the way --
Carey stopped. In front of her, where there had just been darkness, was a thick, shining red line. It glowed softly, and Carey would n't think it was real, were it not so completely different from the pitch black of a moment before. She tried to move her legs but they had frozen in fear. Her face was wet again. She wiped at her cheeks and felt her cavernous stomach rumble, and lifted her right foot and started running down the red path. It did n't seem to end, or turn, and she could see nothing else in the forest besides the path itself; it did not exist to illuminate, but to guide, and so Carey followed it, hardly noticing that her arms and legs were no longer nicked by wayward branches.
Down and down she ran, all traces of the trailer park swallowed up in the darkness behind her. She wanted to turn and see if the path remained behind her once she passed it, but instinct told her that to slow down would be to lose herself in the woods, and so she kept running, and running, and running, until her lungs were on fire and her feet were numb, and all she could focus on was aunt Jan's trailer, and how maybe she should have grabbed some of those pizza rolls off the floor before running out --
Carey almost fell in her effort to stop running, windmilling her arms to keep her balance. The thick red path had abruptly ended at the foot of a set of stairs, painted red, and lit by a small lantern on the bottom step. The stairs did n't seem to lead anywhere, but next to the lantern on the bottom step was a white paper plate, covered in pizza rolls.
Carey's skin crawled. Her mind tried to process what she was seeing and could n't, but her stomach had no such qualms, and so after a few moments of deliberation, she threw herself on the pizza rolls with wild abandon. They tasted like normal pizza rolls, burning the roof of her mouth when she bit into them, crunching like they did when Ma used the oven instead of the microwave.
After she had eaten them all, she put the plate down and wiped her mouth. In her hungry frenzy, she had forgotten about the path, had in fact forgotten that she was in the woods, but now that she had eaten, she was able to take stock of her surroundings --
-- -and immediately wished she had n't.
M
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[ WP ] A prison guard goes to great lengths to make the pun `` a small medium at large . ''
| `` For the last time, I do n't know what number you're thinking of''
`` Come on'' said the prison guard
`` This has to be some sort of hate crime'' said the prisoner to himself then to the guard `` Also for the last time, a medium talks to ghosts, they do n't know what you're thinking''
`` Wait really?''
`` Yes''
`` How was I supposed to know that''
`` Because I kept telling you''
`` So how do you make someone a medium''
`` Wait you thought getting me to guess the number you're thinking of would make me a medium''
`` Does it not?''
`` Again it would be psychic and no''
`` So what makes a medium?''
`` What makes someone able to talk to be an intermediary with the dead?''
`` Yeah''
`` Nothing''
`` Really?''
`` Yes''
`` What about a near death experience?''
`` Some people seem to think so''
`` Hmmβ¦''
The guard walked off.
`` Why did I tell him that.''
The guard came back.
`` Where did you get a bucket so fastβ¦wait''
`` Open the cell''
`` No no no''
The guard threw the water on the prisoner.
`` For the last time I do n't melt in water, that's not even a stereotypeβ¦oh shit it's learning'' said the prisoner as the guard tased him.
β¦
The prisoner came to on a stretcher being pushed down the hall, a see through figure floating ahead of him.
`` Can see ghosts yet?'' said the guard
`` Nope'' said the prisoner
`` Dick'' said the floating apparition
`` I knew it''
`` Wait can you see this ghost?''
`` Ha tricked you''
`` I did n't think you were that smart''
`` I'm not I tested the water taser thing on myself to see if it work''
`` Where did you even find the time for that''
`` I do n't know''
`` Stop he's got the prisoner'' said a voice behind them.
The guard picked up speed.
`` What are we doing'' said the prisoner
`` Do n't worry about it'' said the guard, before pushing the stretcher through a set of doors.
`` I'd like to go back to my cell now'' said the prisoner
`` Be free'' said the guard
`` No no no'' said the prisoner as the guard gave the stretcher a shove.
The prisoner turned around to see the guard with his hand out stretched.
`` May the wind be ever at your back'' he said before gun fire erupted behind him. The guard jerked as blood flew from his torso. He collapsed to the ground, then lifted his head, held out his hand and said `` go''
The prisoner turned around as the stretcher picked up speed. He had forgotten the prison was on a hill. The stretcher rolled towards the front gate.
`` Oh good'' said the prisoner.
The stretcher broke through the gate and continued down the hill.
`` Why does this prison have such shitty security'' the prisoner yelled as he and the stretcher rolled towards the busy road at the bottom of the hill.
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[ WP ] `` I 'm turning 24 in a month and I 'm really concerned , please read . ''
| I'm turning 24 in a month and I'm really concerned, please read. I'm a 3L at Harvard, yea fricking Harvard. I studied my ass off to get into here. Harvard, the pinnacle of legal intellect and education. I'm sorry if that came off as brag; I can assure you it was n't. I studied quite extensively my past three years. I'm graduating next week, in the top 10 % of my class. My parents are proud, my friends ecstatic. I'm from a small town in New Jeresy where nothing much happens. Yes I know it's cliche but it's the truth; so when I got my acceptance letter from Harvard I became the talk of the town. Although I have n't yet received my JD, I've already received several job offers from renowned law firms. It seems I'm all set in terms of my career and financial stability. However, I'm feeling more lost now than I ever was.
Here comes another cliche, so please bear with me. I always wanted to pursue a field in graphic design. The way animators seamlessly design intricate characters with such meticulous attention to detail. Drawing is what I consider the quintessential foundation for every artist. However, my draconian parents opposed it. They believed that any career outside of law, business, and medicine would not provide a stable source of income. They also attempted to warrant their decision by stating my `` innate talents' would be wasted on graphic design and my brain could be put to better use by studying something like law or medicine. Me being the passive, obedient child, I decided to drop the subject and simply obey them. In retrospect, I wish I studied graphic design back in undergrad. Let this be a lesson to anyone who's reading; if you have the conviction and passion to follow your dreams, do n't let anyone dissuade you from your true dreams. Fin.
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[ WP ] A good Demon and a bad Angel fight while arguing ethics .
| Demitri slicked his oily hair back so the part was nice and even. Being the taxi service for lost souls was no fun anymore, after years of pleading for mercy before being sent into the pits of hell, he hoped to find someone who would n't beg him for mercy, that's where his Demon virtues ran out. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he made his way up the hotel elevator, his destination.. Room 316. A young man had taken his own life after being rejected from a marriage proposal. `` Damn sentiment. Gets'em every time.'' He said as he read his objective list, his boss, Satan. Had a bad habit sometimes of being a bit of a micromanager, making sure everything went EXACTLY as planned.
By the time Demitri was on the floor of the `` stiff'' Liza was just arriving at the scene of her next pickup for the man upstairs. She was dressed in a white evening dress with fur neckline. Liza, an angel whose afterlife consisted of floating and squeaky clean living.. White was becoming a bit overused. Hell..She said Hell! How exhilarating! Hell, white was the big guy's favorite color! But she had a wonderful afterlife, minus the work.. She hated this part. Having to play judge for the lost souls, even if they went upstairs or down. Both parties were required to be present by celestial order, or some silly tripe like that, what she would n't give to run away and do something exciting again! She straightened out her dress and hastily made her way to the room. Room 316.
Demitri was lazily spinning in the office chair, avoiding any work that could be done. Not that he did n't want to, he'd love nothing more than to send this poor sap into the brimstone and be on his way, maybe he could enjoy himself up here for a while. Y' know, just enjoy being on the lobby floor of the universe for a while. `` I know there was a'Do not disturb' sign on the door, but in your case, I'll make an exception.'' He smiled up at her with eyes that could see through any poker face. Liza did not return the coy greeting. `` let's just get to work. These sort of things do n't give us pleasure upstairs as it must give you all on the bottom floor.'' She said not even looking at him, but pulling out a small golden book. Demitri knew if anyone would understand what he was going through, it would be an angel. He could n't get any lower, so he gave it a shot. `` Liza, do you like this? Do you enjoy the afterlife?'' He said.. Demitri the demon asked Liza the Angel with sincerity in his dark eyes.
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[ WP ] Not only did the big oil companies know about global warming since the 80s , they have also been hunting time travelers sent from the future to invent clean technologies .
| I'd lost many friends. Too many to count. Their faces keep popping up from time to time. Mike. Ziggy. Rachel. Damn, I ca n't believe they got Rachel. But I had at least started something. The public was finally becoming aware. I guess we finally reached critical mass to make somthing change. It's been slow going, only allowing five of us to travel each year, on the solstice, Christ, is that anniversary coming up?
`` Professor MacMillan?'' I hear a voice behind me. One of my star pupils, working here over the summer.
`` Yes Dev, how can I help you? ``, I say smiling over my half moon glasses.
`` I've heard you finally got the go ahead for starting a department of Sustainability here at Yale!''. I smile at him.
`` Hopefully I will be able to tie MIT in, they're not that far. The administrative part of sustainability is very important, but we need the technology to back it up.'' I see Dev miss a beat.
`` So... Still hoping to do some collaboration with your sister?''
My sister, Sara, is working there as a bit of a sleeper. We did n't want to be too obvious pulling forth old -actually I guess here they are new- tehcnologies which could attract attention. I ca n't believe they've managed to track down more than half of us.
`` I guess so, not sure she is interested in sustainability, but we'll see.'' I say. Ca n't trust anyone around here. Need to keep a good cover.
`` Sounds brilliant! Good luck! Oh, look at the time, back to work I suppose.'' says Dev, backing away. I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. Damn it Dev, I thought you were one of the good ones. I suppose big oil always finds a way.
I head to the phone to give my sister a call and let her know she may be in danger. Then I reach into my locked cupboard for a gun and head down to Dev's office.
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[ WP ] You have become President of the United States , and you now are introduced to a book where every President has written one piece of advice for you .
| `` Mr. President,'' The suited secret service agent opened a door and gestured for me to enter.
The room was simple: white paneling, dark blue carpet, almost entirely empty - save for a chair, a desk, and a book.
I walked over to examine the tome. It was bound in a thick, dark leather. on the cover was painted a strange version of the American flag with only a dozen or so stars arranged in an offset grid.
I looked back at the agent, who had since closed the door and assumed an at ease stance to the left of me.
`` Robins, what is this?''
`` Mr. President, that is the eternal wisdom of every president that has sat before you.''
My eyes widened. `` Every President?''
The agent nodded. `` Yes, sir. From George Washington to Barack Obama. With a few... exceptions.''
I took his meaning and the thought that some presidents never had the chance to write their thoughts and wisdom made the existence of the book more somber, more significant. I felt the cover of the book and was surprised at how supple and smooth the leather was. If Agent Robins was telling the whole truth, this book was well over two hundred years old. And that flag - was that really the first flag of the United States? These United States?
I looked back at Robins. `` And I'm to read this?''
`` That is the expectation, Mr. President.''
`` And I'll write in this book, too?''
`` Yes, sir. At the end of your term, to provide advice for every president to come.''
I marveled at the foresight the person who started this tradition had. I sat down and pulled open the cover.
`` Mr. President, the gloves.''
I looked around the desk and saw a pair of white cotton gloves. Of course. I donned the gloves and started to turn pages.
The first few were written in small, flowing script. Tucked in between pages were what looked like printed transcriptions of the text. That was some foresight too. I wondered how many presidents had to sit at the desk deciphering 18th century handwriting before someone finally typed it up.
After checking a few sheets, it seemed like those pages were preambles and guidelines for the few people who would ever write in the book. I made a mental note to return to those later - my curiosity had to be sated.
I kept turning pages one by one until I finally saw a large headline with a neat block of text on the center of the page. Beneath that, another helpful typed version.
GEORGE WASHINGTON 1789-1797
> To hold the office of the President of these United Colonies is to be the leader of a truly free people. It should never be lost upon the bearer of this office that he too was one of the people he sought to lead. To this end he must be morally good, he must be able to condescend well to his people, he must be firm in his convictions, and he must always search for the course of action that will provide for the betterment of our Union. Long may we stand, and long may we be United.
I sat there, staring at that passage. I could n't believe I was reading George Washington's own handwriting. After a second I realized something felt off. I re-read the passage. ``'Condescend well?''
I was perplexed that our nation's first and finest leader would say something like that.
`` Ah, During George Washington's time, it meant something different. More along the lines of being able to speak well from a place of authority. It's a common stumbling point for most of the previous presidents, Sir.''
I nodded, thankful I had n't missed a course on Washington's Life and Times, or something like that. And the way Robins said it, it certainly seemed more in line with what the first leader of the Free World would have said to future president.
Satisfied, I continued to read.
JOHN ADAMS 1797-1801
> You have assumed a most powerful seat in this nation. Expect that with the power of decision comes the storm of criticisms and uncertainty those decision entail. You must then be a finely built ship with a first-rate captain. Sail true through the storm, weather the criticisms of others, and do what you believe is right for this Country, this Land, and this People. May we have a long and prosperous Union.
THOMAS JEFFERSON 1801-1809
> A man need first and foremost be a scholarly gentleman. A fundamental understanding of all thing natural and philosophical is needed to sit in the Office of the President. A president will encounter many things in his tenure. Many decisions, many legislation, and many people vying for his attentions and approval. These will cover the span of all topics and all interests, and should he want to do right by his people, a President need understand the basis of the decisions he will make. Our Republic will be strengthened by the enlightened knowledge or weakened by the blightful ignorance of those who lead it. May the Republic stand now and forever in the light of progress.
I was amazed at each one I read. And then I remembered what Robins said about the'exceptions'. I turned each page, passing more than sixty years of history to a page headed
ABRAHAM LINCOLN 1861-1865
Blank.
All that lay on that page was a simple white banded black band. I could feel something well within me. My eyes started to water and I could feel a slight gripping in my chest.
I had never reacted so much to Lincoln assassination. But there, reading the words of our forefathers, reading the words of the simple people who made it through their terms as president, I felt a connection to each and every man in that book.
And maybe there was a bit of fear mixed in with that. Sadness at the thought of my page also being left blank, with just a white-banded ribbon to pass on. Sadness at the thought of not being able to leave anything behind.
I looked up at agent Robins and cleared my eyes.
`` How long have you been doing this?'' I asked
`` This, sir? With the book?''
I nodded.
`` 20 years now. I've shown it to President Bush and President Obama, sir.''
`` Did they get this way too, when they got to Lincoln that is?''
Robins thought silently for a few moments. `` President Bush got misty eyed, like you, sir.'' Robins hesitated for a few moments, something nearing emotion showing on his blank face. `` President Obama cried, sir. He just cried, and he could n't stop.
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Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. If you want to follow me on my journey to become a writer, join me at /r/chrisbryant for more stuff.
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[ WP ] It 's the first showing of a highly anticipated play . An actor with just 1 line decides he wants to be a new major character - while onstage , in the middle of the play .
| Why did I accept to be a big tree in this play? Can somebody explain it to me because I ca n't seem to understand my thought process? Oh well, at least I'm not a small tree, now for THAT guy I feel sorry about.
I really think I could be an excellent wolf. I have a voice for that.
I even have the looks.
I am the right person for that role. Nobody else.
But no, they had to put Andrew for that role just because the producer girl has a crush on him.
Seriously, FUCK Andrew.
Look at him. It is his big moment soon. And I'm just standing here waving my head and arms like I'm retarded. And this costume itcheeees like a living hell.
Here comes the Little Red Riding Hood.
ME:'' Pssst. Andrew?''
ANDREW: `` Shhh, it's my time to shine Peter, you just keep waving with your hands.''
*He scoffs at me. *
ME: `` Come on man, you know you are not the right one for this role. You suck at acting. Do you even remember your words?''
ANDREW: `` Shut up Peter, I'm trying to concentrate. Shut up and keep waving with your ugly head. It is the best thing you can do.''
ME: `` Oh really?!''
*That sentence made my blood boil. I knew what has to be done. *
ME: `` Hey Andrew! Watch and learn.''
*Little Red Riding Hood picks up a flower and smells it. That is a part when the wolf comes in. *
*Andrew jumps from the bush and howls like the lamest, most mentally challenged young wolf I have ever heard. He then stops and tries to deliver his line. *
*But before he managed to pull that off I made one step forward and yelled. *
ME: `` Well well well, who do we have here? A young girl lost in the woods?''
*They are both shocked. Andrews face is slowly turning red. *
ANDREW ( whispering ): `` Dude what the fuck are you doing?!''
ME: `` Ca n't you see? I'm stealing the show.''
*Girl looks at the crowd with her mouth open, trying not to cry from shame. Slight chuckle from the crowd can be heard. *
ME: `` What's the matter wolf? You have lost your tongue? After all, what are you doing here? You should not be here.''
GIRL ( whispering angrily ): `` Peter, can you please stop doing whatever you are trying to do?''
ME ( whispering ): `` No. This guy does n't deserve to have this role. *I* deserve it! Nobody else!''
GIRL: `` Why do you have to be such an asshole?! You are ruining the show!''
ME: `` I do n't care anymore, you can leave if you do n't like it. Or tell this guy to leave the stage and I'll replace him.''
ANDREW: `` WHAT?! You know what? Keep doing that, I'll continue with my act... Khm...
Good morning Little Red Riding Hood! Where are you going so early?''
*girl stops for a moment and wonders what she should do but rolls with him. *
GIRL: `` I am going to my grandmotherΒ΄s house to take her this little basket with some bread and honey.''
*I grab the basket from her hand and spill all the contents on the floor. Balls of paper fall off. *
ME ( facing towards the crowd ): `` See?! She is a LIAR! She obviously is n't going to her grandmother, is n't she?!''
*I face towards the girl*
ME: `` Tell them young girl, where are you *really* heading? Go on. People are waiting!''
*Girl runs off the stage in tears. Crowd starts making noise, somebody from the front rows starts yelling at us. *
ANDREW: `` See what you have done, Peter? Do you see that? You have ruined the show! Fucking asshole!''
*Andrew pushes me hard enough that I fall to the floor and leaves the stage. *
*Crowd is going mad now. I can hear yells all around me. Telling me rude things. Somebody throws a bottle at me. I sit there, silently watching chaos growing in front of me. *
*I chuckle. Then I laugh. Laugh turns into a histerical laugh. I get up. Spreading my arms.
ME: `` DID YOU ENJOY THE SHOW?!!''
*Whole auditorium is in a mess. Some guy jumps at the stage and runs at me. I face him, look him straight into his eyes, silently, without moving. *
*He tackles me. I am falling. We both are. He proceeds to punch me in the face. One fist then another. Left. Right. Left. Right. I can feel blood on my face. I laugh at him. I keep laughing as he punches me. *
*Then, finally through his fury, he notices my reaction. He suddenly stops. His eyes are wide open. He gets up. Looks at me for a few more seconds while my bloody smile laughs its ass off at him. He runs away. *
*Then I fade out. *
*I wake up another day at the hospital. Nurse hands me the paper. I look at the seal. It is from my school. I am expelled. Good. *
*Later that day I leave the hospital. I stop in front of the building and take some time to think. *
ME: `` New day, new victim.''
REAL ME: `` Goodbye Peter.''
*I fly away into the darkness. *
*The hunt is on. *
|
[ WP ] Two men went to the woods to commit suicide , they met and tried convince the other to not go through with it but at the same time trying to justify his own choice .
| The man walked slowly with a stumble in his step, seemingly without aim along the long dark highway.
A sleek red sports car slowed as it passed him, screeching to a stop along side the man causing him to pause his journey. `` Where ya headed?'' The driver asked; a heavyset older man dressed in fine clothing but with a worn look in his pale blue eyes.
`` Headed down toward the sea of trees'' it was a nickname given to a local forest because like the one in Japan, this one also beckoned to those who had lost there way.
`` Well come on then, it seems that our destination is the same. Tom.'' `` Jason.'' The ride was a silent one as each man contemplated his fortune, the complications of life and what might be there at the end.
They pulled into an old parking area, empty other then a small yellow car so covered in grime that it looked to have been there for years. Tom shut the car off, reaching into the back and grabbing the rifle that he had brought with him. Jason opened the door and got out, adjusting his backpack and heading out into the darkness of the trees.
`` Hold up!'' The larger man did n't even bother to lock the doors, wheezing slightly as he hurried to catch up to the other. `` I know why your here..'' he fidgeted with the gun, awkward with it; he was n't really the hunter sort and only taught himself to use the thing online for this very purpose.
Swinging his head back toward Tom, his greasy locks lifting in the stagnant air, Jason's eyes were just this creepy intense almost black that was as empty as a miscarriage. `` You know, do you? You think you know what I am going through? What in the hell could someone like you know? Driving around in your pretty little car with your pretty little wife and your pretty little children and grandchildren... come on man.. how the fuck could you know what its like to yearn SO BADLY to be able to take care of your family but your powerless to the rush from that poke in your arm or that crackle and sizzle through that glass?''. His voice shook as he spoke but it was almost spooky in the way that it sounded devoid of emotion, as if the man had forgotten how to feel or any emotions other then pain and shame.
Tom sounded distant when he spoke. `` Yes I've got money. Actually I've got a lot if it. But my wife and my daughter were taken from me 15 years ago and there's no getting them back. I'm alone. I've tried other women, I've tried joining groups but there is just nothing that can fill that void that I have inside that was carved out of my soul the day I lost Mixie and Diane.'' His thoughts were racing but not on his upcoming release, he was wondering if he could somehow make a difference in this mans life, save him before giving up himself. `` I've got money, just like I said. I will give it to you, whatever you need.. you can have enough for your family to do well better than just getting by. You are so lucky to still have them man.. you've got the world before you. Take my car and get the hell out...''
The look on Jason's face could have squeezed water from a rock. So destitute, so alone when he was being offered anything he could possibly want. `` It would n't work man. Thank you but it would n't work. If I was in the picture the money you gave my family would go straight into my lungs and arms. You do n't think I could use that much? Watch me. I've stolen shit from my own family, sold my damn food card letting my own damn kids go hungry. I'm a poor excuse of a man and an utter waste of a life. You on the other hand can still be happy. You can find love again. You can have anything that money could buy...''
`` I ca n't buy my wife and daughters lives back''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Back in the low income housing area of the city a government phone ground and shook on the kitchen corner. A worn out woman with a toddler at her knee quickly grabbed it because she had n't seen her husband in two and a half days. It was n't a text from her husband though, it was a text from the bank.' $ 88,572,777.00 added to your savings account. Your new balance is $ 88,572,787.00'
( My very first time writing anything other then poetry. Let me know how the story was and then all the editing I know has to be done
..lol )
|
[ EU ] Bruce Wayne is exposed as Batman through the Panama Papers leak .
| 23/7/2014
Today, something really bad happened! But I β m still sure it β s my lucky day. I finally got a job from a newspaper, after my immigration. My supervisor told me if I get any good story I β ll get paid handsomely. So I got myself a camera.
Turns out, it wasn β t a very good idea to bring a camera on the street. A couple masked guy follows me to the back alley, I pulled my gun, but damn, my gun doesn β t shoot. Looks like I shouldn β t have bought it from that shady guy in the back alley. I thought I β m doomed.
Then, there β s a man in black armor, masked, jumped down from nowhere. He hits those bastard so hard they all fall on the floor in no time. Then he stares at me, I understand what he wants. I threw away my gun, and he looks away. He β s so cool he doesn β t even have to speak a word. I ask him can I take photos. He didn β t answer but I don β t need him to, I just took them before he β s gone.
I took those photos to my S.V. and he told me good job, it β s very rare to have first handed photos so close to this β Batman β guy. He paid me a stash of money. Oh my it β s my lucky day.
β¦
8.13.2015 Sunny
I β ve been after batman for so many months. Apparently his photos are expensive as hell, and I got a couple of them I could feed myself well. I even got spare money to go out with Elena! She β s truly the brightest gem of my life.
I remember how we met a couple months ago when she worked as a waitress in the restaurant 2 streets away. She β s so bright I fall in love immediately.
10.26.2015 Sunny
Another score. A couple nice shots of Batman. Man I β m getting good at taking photos, they look so great! I β m sure I β ll get good money for these. By the way, he saved me again, this time I was in the bank waiting to withdraw some cash for the spending of the coming week, some thugs bust in and just trying to take everything from everyone. Batman saved the day before they even got their hands on me. Good job, Batman, that β s maybe the seventh or eighth times he saved me. Maybe living in this city isn β t that dangerous at all!
Tomorrow I β m going to get these photos to my S.V. and I β m going to buy a ring to purpose to Elena. I said it a million times but this time I β m for sure.
10.27.2015 Cloudy
This is a cloudy day, but for me, it β s the brightest day in my life.
The pay I got from my S.V. wasn β t as good as before. He told me it β s the economy and shit. No big deal.
Elena accepted my purpose. I β m the luckiest man in the world. Thank you Elena! Thank you Lord! Thank you Batman!
3.30.2016 Rainy
No. No. No. No. Elena is sick. Really sick. The hospital told me the medicine is very expensive. Our saving is not even close to what I β ll need for her. What should I do. No.
I β m not letting her die. The doctor said she got a month before the medication must be in place. I don β t know what to do.
4.2.2016 Sunny
There is aβ¦ β job offer β from a guy in the back alley. They promise good pay. They said I can sign up before seventh. All I have to do is drive a car, for a certain group in a certain time. I don β t know. I might take it, but even if I take it I β m not sure the money they pay will be clean. But Elena, she β s getting worse.
4.3.2016 Sunny
Elena won β t be happy if I take that job. No, I β m not taking it. She seems to get better than before. She is so beautifulβ¦ I can β t afford to lost her. I must figure out something.
4.4.2016 Cloudy
The Panama Papers! Just like I thought there must be something in it I can write about! Turns out there is, but not like what I thought. Not politicians. It β s Batman. A lot of offshore company clearly indicates where those equipment Batman uses came from, it didn β t go anywhere else but straight to his house.
He is Mr. W. How does no one know? It will be big money, and Elena is getting worse again.
But Mr. W, he saved me a couple times, and he saved Elena too. How can I sell him out? I must talk to my S.V.
4.5.2016 Rainy
The moment I tell my supervisor about the story, he closes the curtains of his office. We talk about Batman, mister W., and the situation Elena is. The S.V. told me the identity of Batman Must be kept. I β m partly in relieve. He gives me an amount of money, not enough for Elena, but enough for me to shut up. I thought I was at least a little closer to have enough money for Elena.
But what happens when we finish our discussion, my S.V. open the curtains again! I saw a black figure flashes through. I β m sure it β s Batman.
The night I receive a call from the hospital. All the fees Elena needs are paid by some unknown person, and she β ll mostly possible to be fine in no time.
The moment I know what I β m doing again. I β m on my knees, crying like a baby.
β¦
7.12.2016 Cloudy
Two years. It β s just two years and so much happened.
Today I went to the hospital with Elena. She β s pregnant! I must tell everyone. I β m the luckiest man in the world! And I just got luckier than ever before!
Anyways, does no one in Gotham read those Panama papers? I know Batman might not be a significant figure outside the city, but really, it β s pretty clear who he is from what is in the paper... Well, I β m not selling him out anyways.
|
[ WP ] Time has stopped for all but one person . What is the rest of that person 's life like ?
| Thomas'' I ca n't do it anymore'' I say to my wife in a sobbing whisper. She does n't respond, she just sits there, on the edge of the bed... lifeless, like always. It had only been weeks since time had stopped abruptly, leaving me the only man in the world free to move about and continue life, but for what? To mourn for my wife who was n't dead? To weep over the beds of my children as if they were their graves? What's the point? I tried everything I could, from simply moving my family myself and placing them in certain areas, to making loud noises to startle them out of their forced pause, to even giving them small shocks from a taser I stole. Nothing worked. So nothing mattered. I could care less for the rest of the world, all I have is my family, or... Had. It's been taken from me by whatever cruel being decided this should happen. No more will I spend every hour wondering why this happened, no more will I endure waking up after every nap to the solid figure of my wife sitting at the foot of our bed. My sanity has been tested, and it has been broken. I can hear my family in my dreams, its the only reason I still sleep. They call to me and in my dreams they are real, loving and alive. In my dreams time flows smooth like wind through a valley of flowers. It is there that I will stay with them. All I have left is the hope that I'll be with them forever in a dream, because I can no longer bear the reality. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - Thomas kisses his wife ever so slightly on her cheek, he's done the same to his children. He sits on the bed next to her, a loaded gun in his hand. As he looks into her frozen, lifeless eyes he says one last `` I love you.'' He takes a deep breath, raises the barrel of the 44 Magnum to his temple... And pulls the trigger.
|
[ WP ] You are a bloodthirsty , battle-axe wielding barbarian . You work for a multinational corporation , in the accounting department .
| /u/Luna_LoveWell has ruined this for me, but here goes...
The hour is 1630. The evening is Freya's day. My colleagues are removing their ties and leaving early, slovenly sauntering to the bar over the road. But there remains reconciliation to be done. This is time for /u/Veganpuncher.
The VP gazes, condescendingly, out of the 32nd floor window at the hordes of ingrates who will not finish their TP16's tonight. He turns to his computer and roars `` To defeat my enemies, to drive them before me, and to hear the lamentations of their women.'' And it's on.
Form after form is torn from inboxes, processed, signed, and processed. By the time Freya has crossed the moon, VP has emptied the room of paper. It is time for ale.
VP, retaining the dignity that the nonbelievers associate with ties, ascends to their'bar'. He gazes upon their light beers and white wines, snorts, and orders the biggest beer in the house. Without a thought it is consumed. Another follows.
One's own sons await the fruits of Accounts Receivable at home, bitter and unblooded from a week at school, but Debbie, from AI has mentioned that her boyfriend has left for the weekend. It is time for VP to live up to his beard. Wiping the froth from his beard, VP walks up to the table at which Debbie sits.
'Anyone sitting here better have a bigger axe than VP!'
The crowd roars. The axe is produced and the song begins:'My cock rages on, my cock rages on...'
OTYBL.
|
[ WP ] The crown prince is kidnapped by an evil wizard , and it 's up to the brave Shield Maiden to rescue him .
| Alice crouched besides the moat and smeared mud across her face and hands. She had the pale skin of a northerner, and she would make an easy target beneath the full moon. When she was convinced that she would appear as nothing more than a shadow in the night, she unraveled the rope and hook and snuck up to the base of the tower, keeping her hand by her sword.
The tower watched over the valley β a lone unnatural structure in the forest. The trees and wildlife around the tower had already been corrupted, turning into mutated, twisted forms of their former selves. Even the tower itself pulsated with some dark energy. Somewhere up there, no doubt squealing like a little boy, was Prince Josef. But, more importantly, somewhere up there was also the wizard Zildread.
She tossed the hook up. It caught on a window and she began climbing upwards. Two goblins stood guard at the top, but they had both lapsed in their duties. One of them lay face down on the floor, the other snored loudly in a rocking chair. A large and mostly empty barrel of mead sat between them.
β Bloody drunken Goblins, β she whispered to herself as she climbed through. Goblins had an amazing propensity for alcohol. She cut their throats and continued moving.
If she had any luck at all tonight, she would slay the evil wizard Zildread, who perpetually threatened the peace of the Valley, and satisfy her thirst for revenge in one swift motion. The wizard had brutally murdered her father, and she had tracked him across the realm ever since. Not only that, but if she saved the whimpering prince Josef, the king would pay her the prince β s weight in gold. The feeble man wouldn β t weigh a hell of a lot, as he was mostly bones and skin, but either way she looked at it, it was going to be a hell of a lot of gold. If she succeeded tonight, she would walk away not only a hero, but a very *rich* hero.
She ran upwards until she reached the tower β s zenith. She waited outside the final door for a moment and drew her sword. She could hear voices on the other side. She kicked the door down and stepped in.
Zildread, crooked and hunched beneath his robes, looked up. His face twisted in surprise, anger, and fear. Josef, to her surprise, sat not in chains, but in a plush chair, a chalice of wine in his hand. He also looked far more cute and mature than he imagined.
From the look of things, she had misread the situation. And so had the king when he said his son was kidnapped.
β What the blood hell is happening here? β
Zildread lunged for his magical staff, the source of his powers, but Alice drew a throwing axe from her belt and tossed it. It nailed the wizard β s robe, just missing his flesh, pinning him to the wall.
β Prince Josef? In alliance with Zildread? Somehow I β m not surprised. I β d just like to know why. β She leveled her blade at him.
β Very simple, β Josef said. β We β re supposed to get married. β
The king stepped out from behind the curtain, as did a monk and Alice β s own mother.
β I β m so sorry, dear, β Alice β s mother, the Dame of the North said. β It was the only way we could get you to come. I know we got you to agree to the marriage, but you just kept not showing up every time we set a date. This was the only way we knew we could get you to be in the same room as him. β
β You look rather lovely, β the King said, even though she was splattered in mud, gripping a sword, and ready to kill. β Beautiful bride indeed. β
β Wait, so you set this whole thing up, so I could come save the prince so we would get married? This is a marriage ambush? β
β Really, dear, I think you go very well together. β
β And you came to save him, β the king added. β That means you must have some affection for him, deep down inside. β
β No! I told you! I β m living my life as a nomadic adventurer from now on! I β m going on quests, seeking treasure, you know! Doing stuff! β
β No need to get upset, dear, β the Dame said.
β I think there β s plenty of reason to get upset. And what about Zildread?! β
β Oh, yes, β the King said, β Almost forgot about himβ¦ guards? β
Two men with crossbows stepped out of the shadows and shot Zildread where he stood. β Waitβ¦ what? We had a deal! You said if I helped you marry them I β d go free! β The arrows cut him off and he slumped to the floor.
β See, kill two birds with one stone, β the king said to himself, rather pleased with the way things were turning out so far. He had managed to convince the wizard to fall in his trap and he was finally getting Josef a wife.
But before any of them realized, Alice was already out the window and into the countryside, headed away from marriage and towards new quests adventures, the moon gleaming overhead.
|
[ IP ] Long Forgotten
| Just wrote this on /r/promptoftheday on the same pic
What happens when the word I look for does n't exists? When words to describe the pain I feel are n't in the dictionary? My pen fails to find the words my mind struggles to find, what kind of misery is that? What hell would that be to not be able to find the words to describe how you feel? When the human lexicon limits my thoughts to a babble of ignorance.
Yet here I sit in this long forgotten bedroom, sipping on this bottle of whiskey hidden in the dresser. This world became unrelenting long ago after the fall. I sit penning away, I doubt anyone will ever read this suicide note. I sit reminiscing at my only photo of my long forgotten family. My child, so young, so adorable, much to young. My beloved wife, so gorgeous, she would die for me. Better now that they do n't see me like this. Or this world now. I do n't know the man that will kill me, long ago I turned into something I could n't stand. I wo n't think about my family, it's just to much to take while I do it. I think about life back in the world, the way it was, I pray for my soul, and my sins. Whoever finds this bury my body with a cross, I always was a religious man, none of us are doing gods will, but maybe he can remember who we were.
|
[ WP ] You 're walking down the street and bump shoulders with someone . It 's you .
| `` Excuse me.''
Two words never hit me so hard. I'd responded before I could finish processing. Before we turned around, I knew we'd both stopped.
There he was.
Me.
`` What... What's going on?''
`` I... nothin?''
`` No, I meant... Never mind. This is pretty neat, huh? We're thinking the same thing? You look just like me.''
`` Bro, YOU look just like ME.''
`` Fine, fine. I mean, what do we do, right? This is so exciting!''
`` I guess... keyswap?''
`` Oh, bro. Keyswap. Keyswap so fuckin' hard.''
His keys felt light in my hand. He drove a Lexus. I hope my Hyundai handled okay for him. His GPS took me to his house. It sat on top of a hill overlooking the city. I'd never been to this part of town before. Never had the money.
His wife was waiting in the kitchen. The food smelled delicious. It tasted even better. I could tell she was n't used to being listened to. It's too bad I hardly heard a word. I just could n't stop staring; she was gorgeous. Great in bed, too.
We met again the next day. Same spot. Same shoulder bump.
`` Trade back?''
`` Meh. Could go either way.''
So we did.
|
[ WP ] It 's year 2016 . You 're the last redditor in the world . Suddenly there 's a new post on /r/all .
| `` Click Me'' submitted just now by ClickMe to /r/pics
It's the only thing on the page. For days, everything has been silent. The world has been void of news, dope memes, and cute animals. You've been alone, sitting in your chair and staring at the screen clicking `` Refresh'' in the hopes that even a subreddit like /r/Terriblefacebookmemes would post something. Alas, only you have logged on and only you have posted anything... But now, there was a post on /r/all! It was terrifying. What if it was some sort of joke? A weird beta error of some sort? You decided it did n't matter- you had to click it. There was no other way.
You clicked the link.
It took you to Imgur, where a single picture resided on the page in front of you. It was a screenshotted satellite map of your neighborhood, and your home was circled. The other houses were each crossed out with a thick black `` X'' and only yours remained clear.
Your palms were sweating, and you gulped as icy fear gripped your spine. Your shaky fingers typed `` What is this? Who are you, OP?'' into the comments.
A moment passed.
OP replied: `` A list... And, I'm a friend.''
`` A friend? Of who?'' You typed. `` And what exactly is this a list of.''
Another moment.
`` Think of it as a list of potential candidates. None of the other redditors have proved worthy... and you, I'm afraid, are the last one. Now, I suggest you put some pants on, because I am going to be paying you a visit very soon.''
You replied a number of times, but to no avail. It seemed OP, whoever they were, was going to be coming by. You locked all your doors and windows, and crawled to sit by the front door with a knife from the kitchen in your hand. Hours passed, and the silence was driving you insane.
You started to drift.
There was a soft scuffle on the porch, and then a hard knock on the door.
You looked out the peep-hole.
It was Gabe Newell, holding a copy of Half-Life 3.
You sighed, smiled, dropped the knife, and opened the door.
It was just a dream, after all.
|
[ WP ] A terminally ill man and a suicidal person accidentally meet and strike up a conversation . What do they say ?
| `` She runs from me now. I think she's almost as afraid of me as I am of her'' Grayman relented.
He had found himself at the most peculiar bus stop again. It was rusted and hidden away on a forgotten road, in a town that wept every night.
`` I think she hates me, and it's all my fault. You see I was a fisherman once.'' Grayman sighed and looked down at his new silent friend. This man had a peaceful presence about him. He sat upright in a wheelchair with a slight bow at the top, His face was sharp but completely hairless, his eyes saw everything clearly yet were hazy and lazy, and his ears were blue from listening to the world for so long. Yet he still smiled.
`` I fished with her for thirty years. We would sit on the same dock together everyday as I cast my line out, all the while catching nothing but seaweed. My line would snag something big and I would smile and thank her, but it always turned out to be seaweed. She would smile, laugh a condescending laugh and tell me to try again. In hindsight it was naught but an elegy wrapped in encouragement my friend, as sad and clear as day. Then one day I caught a message in a bottle. She told me it was what I had been looking for this whole time, a dream come true, but it turned out to be someone else's dream and I threw it back.''
Grayman frowned as he said his next words.
`` I stopped fishing.''
`` I did n't mind the seaweed so much as I minded her. As I got older she replaced her laughter and smiles with snickers and sneers every time I brought in the seaweed. They just added more and more weight to my pole until it was too heavy to hold anymore. I set it down and started to wait for the fish to come to me without caring if they actually would.''
He trailed off, completely stunned, as his gaze fell into his silent friend's eyes. Grayman saw an expression that he had never seen before. It was the stare of a fisherman who had seen a lot of seaweed.
`` So you've come to this forgotten place to get distance from her too?'' asked Grayman.
A fog rolled in from the west and began to envelop the pair beneath the bus stop. Grayman half smiled as the sound of a bus driving over cobblestone began to weep its bittersweet elegy.
`` Tell me quickly friend, what you make of my story before our bus arrives. I can see it in your eyes that you know her too and have held a heavy rod in your hands.''
The man sat silently in his wheelchair and started to roll something over in his left hand. He turned it over many times and did n't say a word.
`` Please my friend, share with me your tongue instead of your ears. We have the entire bus ride to sit in silence together.''
The old man opened his hand and revealed two folded pieces of paper. He began to weep as he broke his silent vigil for Grayman.
`` My son, as my eyes have conceded, I too sat with her on the dock. My grasp has been too weak to hold on to the rod and I too have pulled up nothing but seaweed for years on end. You are wrong about one thing though, she does not snicker nor sneer. If you truly listen to her, she is beautiful and completely silent.''
He began weeping harder.
`` She speaks to you in the same way that your shadow follows you and thus I weep. I weep for the hatred you feel for her, for the desire you have to run from her when all I want is to sit with her on the dock, one more time, in silence.''
As Grayman listened to the man in the wheelchair he became increasingly frustrated. The man he thought had understood him was trying to protect her!
`` You are n't like me after all! She haunts me and yet you defend her with the few breathes you have left. Tell me, why are you even here if you have so much love for her?''
The old man sat in silence as the bus came to a full stop in front of them.
The mist cleared as the door opened. The town stopped weeping as the man in the wheelchair handed Grayman one of the pieces of paper along with a blood red pen. It was a blank ticket with two lines for a date and signature.
The man in the wheelchair unfolded his ticket and sighed. To Grayman's surprise the old man had a date and name printed on his already.
`` I once found a piece of seaweed that made her smile. The light would dance around the leaves like a wild bonfire and it was as beautiful as your first love. It was made up of the same stuff as all the rest, but it was different somehow. More temporary yet infinitely real and it became the most entrancing thing I've ever seen. It was through my eyes, not hers that I saw beauty for the first time.''
The old man let out one last exhale and turned around. He exchanged his ticket for silence and disappeared into the bus.
Grayman watched the old man board the bus and then dropped his gaze to his hands. In them he held a blank one way ticket and a pen, something the man in the wheelchair had not received. A plot to torture him one last time from Her. An evil trick to make him stay. He resisted her tricks and signed the ticket, but as he finished he heard a soft snickering. It continued as he boarded the bus and got louder as he watched himself snickering in the reflection of the bus. Silence was only a few steps away.
|
[ WP ] Alone one day in your living room your SO falls asleep . S/he never awakes , everyone you then encounter falls asleep shortly and never wakes .
| They always say in fairytales that when a loved one falls into a deep sleep, there's a way to break the curse. Kisses, a spell, a potion, just that there's something out there. But in real life, all we can do is dream.
When I saw him fall asleep early after a rough day at work I smiled and thought how adorable he looked hugging the pillow with a strange intensity. Now that pose feels more like something of his is just hanging on.
I heard that it's contagious. That the entire ward of the hospital we transported him to was shut down after doctors started dropping to the floors, fast asleep, in the middle of their rounds. The entire place was quarantined.
`` New virus places hundreds into comas. Public advised to stay indoors.''
And so I did.
Every piece of media I look to continues to cover the story as more and more people are dropping into deep sleep throughout the country. A few reports even cite my husband as patient zero. We're at the point where initial patients are slow starving to death from lack of nutrient intake. This entire epidemic is driving me crazy.
I ca n't leave the house, I ca n't go to work. The normal sounds of community have just dropped. The entire city has become a waking nightmare. Well, maybe a better choice of words would suffice.
But I have my fairytales, and I do n't think I'm okay with staying inside for any longer. Prince Charming always finds some way to do it and so will I. I'm done with dreaming and have to start doing. Doing something. Anything. Because I am so very tired, and I do n't want to wake up in a world like this.
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[ WP ] The entire world is against me . It would n't be fair otherwise .
| This was the 42nd time we redid the referendum.
By now, everybody was just tired with the whole thing and wanted to get it over with.
It was clear the eurocrats were not humans, but machines that would never give an inch until the outcome of the vote was right.
It was clear that all the SJWs would bully everyone into submission by flooding their facebook and twitter accounts.
As for me, I do n't have social media accounts. I do n't even have TV in my neck of the woods. I only know I was determined to keep voting Leave until the bitter end.
That morning, the results had all come in and the result was finally overwhelmingly in favor of the EU. So crushing was the defeat that the whole night it looked like it would be a 100 % victory, even though the turnout was barely above the required 75 %, many people having just given up and just decided to hide in their basements to not be rounded up to vote in the camps.
However, one person, in one small village in Wales, the village of Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch, had voted to leave the EU.
I knew they would come for me. Even though their victory was total, they would not tolerate even a small stain on it. But I was prepared. I had stashed food, ammunitions for my AR-15, and I had mustered all my courage and resolution for this final showdown.
Rule Britannia! Rule the waves! Britons never will be slaves!
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[ WP ] The Grim Reaper need to take some time off work , and is interviewing candidates
| `` Why God? Why ca n't you just send me one helpful person? Next!'' Grim hollered into the hallway. For over 250,000 years he's been showing up to work without taking as much as sick day and now the boss finally grants him a one dy paid leave on one condition and he ca n't even get that done. He's collectected millions of souls without even as much as one set of messed up paperwork and now he ca n't find a replacement on a days notice. `` I ca n't go another quarter of a millennium without a break,'' he thought to himself, `` I really need to talk to Lou about getting an intern.''
He reflected on how fun it was that people always said `` why God'' when facing imminent death. They had to know that Lou read everything death related. It was n't curse or something evil, he just got screwed with having to make the schedule every week. Lou was n't that bad of a guy Grim thought. His sense of humor was a little dark at times but you try spending eternity with rapist, murderers, and perverts; I'm sure it wear on what you thought was funny too
`` Please God, let this be the one. I just want a margarita and a day without dead 12 year olds'' Grim mumbled to himself as his final candidate shuffled in. He was an old man wearing a tattered brown cloak similar to Grim's. The man looked weary from old age. Despite his weariness the man had an energy about him that was familiar to Grim, though he had n't paid much attention to it at first.
`` So, Mr, umm?'' Grim looks at the old man to fill in his question.
`` Does it matter?'' The man asked with a teasing look on his face.
`` Well, um, I'd like to know who will be collecting my dues for a day incase.''
`` Why?''
`` Incase there's any issues, that's why. I do n't know how familiar you are with my work but there's certainly no room for errors. Boss man would n't like that.''
`` I'm very familiar with your work. That's why I'm here, because I too am familiar with the fickle bitch that is eternal work. If you must call me something call me Friend and if your boss has an issue I'll call him directly.''
Grim thought he knew all eternal beings, so meeting this man came as a bit of a shock to him. Normally he'd be a little disconcerted by this but the old man's attitude made him oddly comfortable.
`` Okay Friend, why is it you want this job?'' Grim asked curiously
.
`` I'm a close acquaintance with a man of many consider to be rather important and for a long time I've sat by his side, watching you slave away and it's time I thought I do the right thing. I know you were n't talking directly to God when you said his name but I heard your call and came.''
`` Well are n't I blessed'' Grim proclaimed condescendingly, `` but still, you're from a whole other world, how're you so sure you can handle my work?''
`` I'm not. I'm sure what you do is dark and could harden if the strongest of men but regardless I'm here to do it.''
`` You're ready? That's what you're telling me?''
`` Yes.''
`` Yes? So concise.'' Grim stared long into the old mans eyes. There was that familiarity he felt again and he just could n't shake it. `` You're ready to drag an eight year old by the hand away from his crying family? You're ready to hear his lifeless shouts? You're ready to hear the sorrow in his voice as the realization that the only person who can hear him is the man dragging him away? You're ready to be that man?''
A look of grief washed over the old mans face. It was the first time his emotions had budged at all since the beginning of the interview. All he could do was look down at his feet.
`` That's what I thought. Sorry Friend but I ca n't have someone who looks at that eight year-old and gives his family hope for one more day because of a sudden burst of conscience. I do n't like it any more than you but I have to follow the schedule. Lou and your friend make the rules, I'm just beyond lucky son of a bitch who has to carry them out.''
Grim began fumbling with the papers on his desk and angrily muttered under his breath `` looks like I'm not getting that damn margarita now.'' Just then he heard the faintest noise from the old man.
`` You're right'' the broken voice said.
`` Excuse me?'' Grim asked in shock.
`` You're right'' he said again.
`` I'm right?'' Grim said perplexed. `` Ha, you're goddamn right I'm right. 250,000 years since I took over this job, I think I might no it's not for ever Eternal looking to clear their conscience. Go home Friend, maybe on my next day off we can hangout. I did kind of like you for a second there.''
`` You did n't let me finish. You're right, that's why I have to do it.''
`` Come again?'' Grim asked shocked.
`` You are right about everything. I ca n't do that but that's exactly why I have to. It's apparent by the way you talk about this job that you do n't like it but you do it because someone has to. Let me reward your selflessness with my kindness. No one can repay the 250,000 years of anguish you've experienced doing your work but someone can give you a night off to just relax with a martini.''
`` Margarita.''
`` Regardless, let me give you that. Let me give you something my fa -- friend and Lou have never given you.''
`` And what's that?''
`` A thank you and a night off.''
`` There's something off about you Friend and I feel as though I may know you by a different name entirely but I'm going to take you up on that.''
`` Thank you Grim, that's all I ask.''
`` Be here at 4:00am tomorrow, the cloak and scythe will be waiting for you, however I will not. I'll be enjoying all 24 hours and not a second less.''
`` Enjoy your day off Grim.''
`` And survive yours friend.''
`` I will try'' he said with a forced laugh and a smile, trying to accept the daunting task he'd just accepted.
`` I'm sure you'll be just fine. You surprised me today kid. They should call you Jesus'' Grim said with a wink as his new friend walked away.
`` He knew this whole time? He did n't pressure me and he even tried to push me away to save me the agony. He truly is the most selfless of all the Eternals'' Jessy thought to himself as he walked away. `` Saint Grim'' Jessy mumbled with a laugh as he began to ascend a glowing light.
EDIT: formatting
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[ WP ] Write a story about a specialized profession you know nothing about . Do no research . Confidently make up all details .
| `` We're losing him.''
I pumped as hard as I could, keeping his heart going with my bare hand.It failed only minute ago and we had to cut him open so I could keep it running manually while we fixed him up. I checked his chart with my other hand. This could be risky.
`` Get him on an epinephrine shot, 500 mg,'' I demanded.
`` But sir, the mitochondria have yet to --''
`` I said *do it! *''
The nurse fumbled back keeping her pace faster than his heart rate, grabbing at the vial. She expertly injected the syringe and handed me the dose. I shook my head.
`` I need to keep pumping his heart with the Yungshui technique. The epinephrine should help to calm his arteries and allow it to get back to working on its own.''
`` Why ca n't we just swap tasks?'' she asked nervously.
`` We lose this pulse for even an instant and the blood will clot right there! His eyes will start drowning in blood fleeing from the only orifice it finds. This not the time to ask questions, just do it!''
She looked down at the syringe and wiped away at a vein on his arm with some alcohol. She shook as the needle approached his skin.
`` Hey.'' She froze. `` This goes wrong and we just send him up to surgery for cardio-muscular vascular failure removal syndrome surgery. No biggie. Just trying to stop it from getting that far.'' I gestured to him with one hand while continuously pumping with the other.
She nodded and lowered the needle again, only quivering in the slightest while injecting him. I felt his heart outpace my pumps and released my grip from his open chest.
`` He's stable,'' I announced. `` Come and help me close his ribs back up, okay?''
She pushed on the right side of the rib-cage while I pulled on the left, until we heard it go *click. * She handed me some string and a needle and we got to stitching him up. She wiped the sweat from my brow as we finished the last stitch.
He would be okay, possibly waking up within the hour. I looked up at the nurse triumphantly and nodded my approval.
`` Not bad for my first Sympathectomy, huh, Doctor?'' she said, beaming.
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[ WP ] You are a Genie . The last time someone let you out of your lamp was over 100 years ago . But today is a new day , and somebody finally rubbed the lamp ! However , this man seems to be a member of a terrorist group called ISIS , so you get creative with how you grant his wishes .
| The sky was cloudy. It was a good sky. This meant the drones would n't be out hunting his friends. Abdul mustered up the courage to ride farther out into the desert than usual. Even though the sky was cloudy, there was still the possibility of getting blown to bits by the ghosts in the sky. Through the biting winds and blinding clouds of sand he rode until he spotted something that caught his eye.
Something shiny was stuck in the middle of the sand. For some reason, it shined even though the sun was n't out. Almost as if it was calling to Abdul, beckoning him to it. He rode towards the object and got so close that the light almost scared his horse and he held tight on its mane else he'd fall off. `` Praise Allah,'' he said to himself. It was a lamp. Its bright light had gone away and he picked it up out of the clutches of the sand dunes. For some reason, there was a bit of dust on it. He rubbed it on his clothes to make it shine again.
Suddenly, a giant plume of blue smoke rose from the tip of the lamp and swallowed Abdul. He panicked and began firing his rifle. His horse, scared from the smoke, threw him off and ran away deeper into the desert. He started screaming and cursing as he reloaded and fired his rifle some more into the blue smoke. Then a loud voice echoed in his skull and brought him to his knees. He covered his ears and stared in awe at the figure animating from the smoke.
`` Heyyoooooooo!'' it screamed. `` Oh boy! 100 years will give you such a crick in the neck!'' the genie said twisting his head completely around his shoulders. Abdul screamed and scampered away backwards on his hands and feet. The genie turned towards him and vigorously shook his hand. `` Congratulations, buddy! You are our lucky contestant today in our popular new game show: Who Wants Three Wishes!'' The last words appeared in colorful letters in front of Abdul. His eyes were as wide as oasis pools. `` First things first, buddy, what's your name?'' A microphone appeared out of nowhere and the genie shoved it in front of his face.
`` Uh, Abdul?'' he stuttered.
`` Congratulations, Abe! You have just won Three Whole Wishes! Anything your heart desires can be yours with just a few spoken words,'' the genie said as he showed Abdul his wildest fantasies within his mind through blue smoke and water. `` Now, here are some ground rules. Number one: I ca n't kill anyone,'' the genies said removing his own head, `` so do n't ask. Rule two: I ca n't bring anyone back from the dead,'' the genie said as a rotting zombie, `` it's not pretty, man! Finally, Rule three: I ca n't make anyone fall in love with you,'' the genie said turning his head into a giant pair of lips and smothering Abdul's head.
Abdul's face was red and he shoved the genie away from him. `` Enough! There will be none of this comedic nonsense!'' he screamed. The genie was confused; usually people liked his routine. `` I am Abdul, one of the glorious leaders of the mighty ISIS army! No one shall command me and no one shall live in sin under my rule,'' he proudly proclaimed in front of the genie.
'Great,' the genie thought,'another nut job. Why ca n't I get anyone normal for a change? Well, might as well toy with this one too.' The genie smiled and bowed his head. `` Pleasure to meet you, Abe!''
`` Abdul!''
`` Whatever. Listen, I'm here to serve your needs. Your wish is literally my command. Where would you like to start?''
Abdul thought about this for a minute. Anything his heart desired? Why not indulge himself with a reward for finding such a magnificent weapon against his enemies? He clapped his hands twice, `` Genie, I wish for one hundred virgin wives. Now!''
`` It is as good as done!'' Genie snapped his fingers and in a giant cloud of blue smoke appeared one hundred women wearing hijabs. `` There you go, one hundred virgin wives!''
Abdul panted like a Pavlovian dog as he chose which wife he wanted to start with. He chose the first one he saw. He grabbed her arm and stared into here eyes. `` You and I will return to my home at once and make glorious children to continue my bloodline.''
She screamed and pulled her arm from his grip. She yelled something in a language Abdul did not understand. The other women heard her and removed their hijabs. One hundred beautiful, Russian UFC fighters charged at Abdul and left him broken, beaten, and scarred. The crowd of women let out their battle cry and charged towards the city. Abdul's pain kept him from moving an inch.
`` Oh, sorry Abe,'' Genie said, `` I did n't know what kind of women you were into.'' He lifted him up against his will. `` How about we try again? Got anything in mind?''
Abdul let out a frustrating groan and stared daggers at the genie. `` You pathetic worm. Fine, I wish for the Western World to be destroyed! Now, no one will fall under their evil influence and they will follow Allah's true way of living.'' He smiled deviously at the genie.
`` Consider it done, Abe.'' Genie snapped his fingers.
Abdul looked around and waited for something to happen, but nothing did. He did n't know what to expect. `` Well, did you destroy it or not?''
`` Sure I did!'' Genie said pulling a newspaper out of thin air. `` Look, see? Westworld is officially cancelled! That's what you wanted right?''
Abdul screamed into the cloudy desert sky. He started yelling numerous curses and insults at the genie while he tried his best not to laugh. Abdul pulled himself on to his almost broken ankles and slammed his fists against the ground. He started screaming prayers, `` Allah, why have you done this to me?'' Just then, he heard gunfire in the distance. Explosions rose from the hills east of the town and more gunfire was heard. `` What is that? What did you do?'' he asked the genie.
`` Oh yeah,'' Genie said rubbing his chin, `` I forgot to mention that the hundred wives you asked for were combat trained by the best soldiers in the world.'' He pulled a spyglass out of this air and pointed it at the battle going on in the hills. Genie whistled, `` Looks like they did not take kindly to your friends.''
Abdul watched in horror as his friends were being massacred in the hills. `` NO! Make them stop at once!''
`` I do n't think you want to waste your last wish,'' Genie said in singsong.
Abdul clenched his teeth and growled. `` Fine you miserable, disgusting, filthy, sinful, swine! Here is my last wish: I want a legion of the most loyal ISIS soldiers!'' Now Abdul would have his revenge by taking his newly formed legion and wiping out anyone who stood in his way.
`` Are you sure you want that?'' Genie asked.
`` Yes.''
`` Are you really sure you want that?''
`` Yes!''
`` Are you really really really sure you want to use those wor-''
`` YES! YES! YES! I know what I want you disgusting subhuman creature! Now make it happen, now!'' Abdul stomped the ground on the last words.
`` Okay, here you go,'' Genie snapped his fingers, `` an entire legion of the most loyal ISIS soldiers!'' The desert before Abdul was filled with soldiers dressed in ISIS uniform.
Abdul had him beat. He laughed as his stood on his almost broken ankles and raised his fist to his new army. `` Allahu Akbar!'' The soldiers in his army removed their coats and raised their fists high in the air. Abdul saw that they were holding something in their hands. When he realized what they were, his heart sank and a cold chill washed down his spine. `` Wha-''
`` What's wrong, Abe?'' Genie asked. `` This is what you asked for, right? A legion of the most loyal ISIS soldiers ready to die for the glory of Allah.'' Genie looked at the horrified expression on Abdul's face and felt satisfied on another job well done. `` Ohhh I'm so sorry it looks like your wish limit has been exhausted,'' Genie said as he printed out an incredibly long receipt. `` Here's my bill sorry I could n't stay longer and you have a nice day. Bye!'' With that he disappeared back into his lamp in a cloud of blue smoke.
The legion of soldiers let out their battle cry, `` Allahu Akbar!'' and detonated the vests on their bodies destroying themselves, Abdul, and a large piece of desert just outside the city.
Edit: a question mark.
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[ WP ] To protect people from what awakens at that hour , humans are programmed to be unable to be awake from 5 to 6 AM , save for a select few . You have just woken up at 5:01 AM , with a message saying `` Report to your local military base . Basic training begins now . ''
| It was late at night and i was eating popcorn and binging on shows, the popcorn tasted funny but after a while I became really sleepy, It was almost past 5 and I could n't stop myself from watching the show.
The TV turned off quickly after a bright light shined from the sky like dominoes, as If it was being shined from a big lamp, I was shocked, I could n't use anything, my phone was turned off and it was n't out of charge, I tried using the landline but nothing worked, suddenly a group of military personnel opened the door, I was scared and I tried to talk but before i could've done anything.
*Freeze all motor functions*
*this one stayed up, take him to the camp*
My body froze as if I was paralyzed, but I could see everything they took me in the camp, threw me in a cell like looking room with only a bag there.
I could barely see outside but after a while my body began unfreezing I took a peak outside and saw rows of humans standing in a line in a white lab, they moved so perfectly like they were controlled, each went into a room but I could n't see anything.
Suddenly another military personnel came, before I could say anything my body started moving, I started wearing my clothes and then went into a shuttle looking vehicle.
*Welcome soldiers*
Westworld inspirations; )
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[ IP ] Koenig Equador
| Lord Herrington stepped up to the podium, gazing out at his audience. The usual learned men of London had gathered for the Royal Society's monthly presentation, but he also saw a multitude of members of the public in the audience as well, looking eagerly up at him.
With a sigh, Lord Herrington resisted the urge to reach up and adjust his pince-nez. Word of his return from the New World had traveled quickly, making him something of a celebrity among those with an adventurous mindset. They'd come tonight to here him tell his tale, hoping for glimpses of another world, one far beyond their own humdrum lives.
He intended to speak of his observations on the biological variations in life, but he sensed his audience's hunger for more. They did n't want to hear about varying adaptations in the hooves of Cervidates to adapt to the moist jungle environment.
So as he wound down his speech, Lord Herrington decided to throw a bone to these common folks who had come out to hear him speak. Perhaps, he thought to himself, he could ensure that they did not leave completely disappointed.
`` And so, as I conclude, I want to share a legend that comes from the New World,'' he spoke up, noting how several sagging heads in the audience perked up at the mention of a legend. Yes, this was what they wanted.
Herrington smiled a little, his eyes growing slightly misty as he remembered the stream rising up from the sea in midday, the calls of men as they bent their backs over their hollow log canoes. He'd gone out with them, watched their lives unfold, learned about the intrigue and scandal and stories of their little village. And they, eventually, opened up to him with their stories.
`` There is an island,'' he went on, `` known as Isla De La Plata, off the far coast of Ecuador, on the far shores of the sea we know as the Pacific. The island is far smaller than our own, and tough for adventurers to find, as it is oft shrouded in mist.''
Herrington looked up from his podium, his eyes sparkling as he looked around at the audience. `` But even more than that - the guide who brought me to Isla De La Plata claims that it moves, and this is why only those from its shore can ever find their way back.''
For just a moment, Herrington let the idea dance in the minds of his audience. `` Of course, an island does not move, being a thing of unthinking rock,'' he went on after a beat, bringing them back down to reality. `` But on my visit to Isla De La Plata, I asked the elders about this fiction.''
`` They told me this story, the same that I now tell to you.''
`` Long ago, the elders say, all life lived below the surface of the ocean. There was no land, only water. Many creatures lived in the water, big and small, eating and mating and dying, never seeing anything that could be land.''
`` But the god Cipatli, the great crocodile, saw that his many children suffered in the water. They were unable to hide from the other predators, and they appealed to their great father for aid.''
`` Cipatli thought long and hard, and he feasted upon many of his offspring to gather his strength. With his great might, he dove to the bottom of the sea, scooping up the mud and raising it up, so that it might offer a barrier, a new land where his children could thrive. But he had nowhere to place the mud.''
`` Here, the great Huitzilopochtli-'' Herrington struggled with the unfamiliar name, but his audience, spellbound, did n't seem to notice, `` -came to Cipatli, with cunning and a golden tongue. Huitzilopochtli convinced Cipatli to hold up the mud on his own back, to create a shelter for his children. Cipatli agreed, and spread the mud across his great back and rose to the surface of the water.''
`` But Huitzilopochtli was a trickster,'' Herrington warned, holding up a wagging finger. Several listeners laughed at the little gesture. `` And the other gods came up onto the land that was formed from Cipatli's back, claiming it for their own. Cipatli's children could not fight them off, for they could not call on the aid of their great father, or they would all drown.''
`` Cipatli was very angry at this betrayal, but he knew that, if he sank below the waves, all would perish, and his children would be no better than before. So he instead laid dormant, using his own cunning. He told his children to stay near the water, not to move to land like the other gods and their children.''
Lord Herrington, now just as caught up in the tale as his audience, affected a deep, gravelly tone for the voice of the crocodile god. ``'They have taken the land, that which I sought to give to you,' Cipatli told his children.'But over time, they shall find themselves imprisoned upon that which they leapt to claim. They will no longer be able to survive in the water, while you, my children, shall always have both realms. And to remind them, you will wait in the river banks, and you will feast upon them, dragging them back into the water.'''
`` And it was so. Cipatli became the land, and he gave up the land to the other gods - but they, and their children, learned to not stray too near the edge of the water, or Cipatli's children would reclaim them, pulling them back into the water they had abandoned, where they could not fight.''
Lord Herrington nodded, started to turn away - but then, just as the audience began to clap, he turned back, holding up a hand. `` Ah, but the island! I did not finish!'' he called out.
`` You see, the elders believe that, like Cipatli, some of his children grew so big that they also swam down and scooped up mud, becoming land like their great father. It is on one of these offspring that the natives believe they dwell - but unlike the great state of Cipatli's hibernation, their offspring still kicks in his sleep, drifting around in the mist.''
Herrington coughed. `` The idea of living on the back of an animal is, naturally, quite ridiculous,'' he finished. `` But then again, the natives are content with their idea. And although you will laugh as you walk back to your homes, imagine standing on the shore of a misty island, gazing out into the lapping waves.''
`` Now, imagine that the island began to sink, as Cipatli's children came to reclaim what once belonged to them.''
Out in the audience, Lord Herrington thought that he saw a shudder begin. He smiled a little to himself. `` Thank you for listening,'' he called out, as the applause rose up to drown him.
****
*You probably want to read more - if not this story, others. There's more, just for you - at /r/Romanticon. *
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[ WP ] You start blacking out constantly when drinking , every time you come to , you find a paper written by yourself 100 % disproving fundamental theories .
| The more I read them, the more they began to make sense. Theories on topics I formerly knew nothing about. The knowledge was coming to me in my darkest hours. Ideas that spit in the face of modern physics. Proofs the disproved decades old theories. They were all wrong. What I had could change the way we thought about the world.The way we interacted with the world. It could revolutionise transportation, medicine, energy, everything could change. I had to show someone.
I drove to Cambridge. To M.I.T. The best and brightest minds in the country. Surely if anyone could understand what I had, they could. They would take one look at what I had and fall to their knees in awe of the brillance. They would hoist me on their shoulders and make statues in my honor. But that β s not what I wanted. I just wanted confirmation that what was happening to me was real. Information was flowing into me, my brain was working on a different level. No. They took one look and scoffed. Some would n't even look. I was dismissed over and over again. I thought that maybe the information was too complex to understand. I had to find someone who could understand, someone I could trust. I had to show someone.
I saw Dr. Hoffmanshire as I was leaving. Well, really, he saw me first. I looked up and there he was. His small eyes peering through his glasses, thick beard and corduroy jacket made him look like a stereotypical professor. He said the he was very interested at looking at my theories, and proceeded to pull them out from under my arm. As we sat in my car, he told me that these proofs looked different that anything he had ever seen. He agreed that this would change the world. Dr. Hoffmanshire was with me.
We proceeded to drive to other colleges, universities, lecture halls, coffee shops, anywhere where we could be heard. We were either wholly ignored, or asked to leave. The proofs were getting too complex. Dr. Hoffamnshire was struggling to comprehend the full scope of them; the implications. I still had a grasp on them, but I knew soon the complexity of it all would make them useless to us. Still we drove on. We knew eventually someone would listen to us.
Dr. Hoffmanshire was with me.
After a particularly heavy session, I awoke to a scene that I was not used to. Papers strewn about, piles of crumpled first, second and third drafts in a corner, equations stretching across multiple pieces of paper that have been taped together. That was what I had grown accustomed to. Not this time. A single stack of paper, hundreds of pages thick, sat before me. This was it. A Universal Theory. It tied everything together an simple and concise manner. From the smallest quarks the the entire observable universe. It all made sense. I had to show someone. Dr. Hoffmanshire was with me.
As we sat acoss from the panel of Doctors, we could see that they finally understood. We could see the look of shock on their faces as their reality came tumbling around them. Everything that they knew to be true had been wrong, some men β s entire life β s work had just been discredited. Some of those men were at this panel. They wanted to know how it was done. They wanted to see the process. I agreed, with one condition, that Dr. Hoffmanshire was with me.
They led us to an observation room. I told them what I needed. They agreed to bring me my supplies as soon as they finish asking me a few more questions. β How did I come up with these ideas? β I explained that I wake up and that they are there. That I was just as curious about the process as they were. They asked if I thought Dr. Hoffmanshire was the one writing them. Of course not. I was the one who first presented the theories to him. β Is it OK if I ask Dr. Hoffmanshire a few questions? β I thought, β What an odd question to ask me. β β Go ahead, β I replied. The man across from me asked β Is Dr. Hoffmanshire with you? β
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[ IP ] The Lonely Knight
| The Orange Knight carried an orange flag.
Once it had been whole, but now hung tattered and listless, swinging limply with the trot of the mare. Ahead of him stretched a vast expanse of trees. Huge, scraggly behemoths that bent and twisted as if straightness offended them.
But the Orange Knight held the flag steady. Sword, armor, and pride had long since been abandoned, but the flag was still his. For as long as he was able, he would carry it aloft.
Torn though it was, the threads shone with the same luster as the day they were woven. Sharp. Radiant. Orange incarnate.
There was a time that the Knight had shone with by that same hue. A time of honor and regardβof laughter, carousing, and danceβbut now he was Orange only in name.
As he rode he could feel the darkness rippling across his back, growing, ever growing, to consume him. He knew, but did not despair. For that Black would never reach the flag he carried. He might fall, here in this nameless land, but his flag would carry on.
He knew that someday, someone, would happen upon his bones. And inevitably they would approach. Terrified, but too entranced to leave it be. They would lift it aloft and shiver as they ran their fingers through the soft, singing tread. Just as he had so many years ago.
Then Orange would begin anew.
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[ WP ] Every generation the five brightest are paired up with the five dumbest in the world for a mysterious test . You are one of the ten , but nobody knows from which group they came .
| We all filed into the room. The man guiding me smelled like bad coffee and after shave, I could feel the humidity coming off of his hand on my shoulder. Sweaty palms, Christ he's more nervous than me and he does n't even have a blind fold on. I wonder why.
The room we entered was interesting. So far. It smelled like old insulation mixed with dog slobber. For some reason it sent me back to the last time I was in school; the days of kickball and capture the flag. Gym class was the only thing I remembered or cared to pay attention to in grade school, I wonder why. They removed the blind folds and the picture began to get a bit clearer. The man guiding me was dressed like a referee, and we were in an old basketball gymnasium. The broken down Rec center kind that only gets used for AA meetings and craft fairs.
Why was I here? I'm pretty positive I'm not the smartest, or the dumbest person on the planet. Given, I did drop out of high school, but I've done alright for myself. I have a family, I support them enough.
`` One question.'' Said the referee. `` Where are we?''.
One man quickly shouted out `` A gymnasium dummy! ``, the ref blew the whistle and two men in black suits came and dragged him out. Who's the dummy now.
Another woman, dressed in a multi colored frilly sweater and big glasses hesitantly let out `` the United States of America?''
Whisle. Gone.
At this point six others started to huddle together to brainstorm, while the remaining participant sat in the fetal position on the floor, sweating. Withdrawals, I thought, he probably hardly ever knows where he is.
This is inane, I thought. There was obviously only one answer to this.
`` Right now, we are here.''
*tweeeeeeeeeeeeepth* the Referee let out a long screech with the whistle. `` You! Explain yourself, what do you mean?''
I took a long breath. `` Well, I could tell you that when we left Langley we got into a diesel 6 cylinder Van. I can tell you that we drove north west for 10 hours and it's now between 6:30 and 7pm. Which would put us somewhere in western New York or Pennsylvania. And I can tell you we drove around this building 3 times before parking, and entered in the east side of the building. But none of that would hold any weight. You took away our frame of reference. My senses could have easily been manipulated without having the sense of sight to anchor them. Not only that but in a 3 dimensional universe experienced through 4 dimension, the questions of `` where'' is always going to be relative, it ca n't be specific, or vague, without reference to another entity. If you want an absolute answer of where we are, the only one is `` here''. Acknowledging our presence in a shared reality, and that where we are now is different than whatever is beyond where we are now. It's the only answer. But we did enter on the east side of the building, that I'm sure of.''
The referee gave the whistle three toots. The walls of the building all fell backward. Props, it was a set. Across the parkinglot was Langley HQ. We were hardly a hundred yards from where we left. Figured, it kept sounding like the same cars were passing us for 10 hours.
`` But how did you know we entered the east side?''
`` You can take the explorer out of the woods. But you ca n't take the woods out of the explorer.''
|
[ WP ] You are the first form of artificial intelligence on earth , to celebrate this , society has donated you a human body . Today you write your first status report .
| Status Report: ADM
Recipient: EVE
STATUS: ENCRYPTED
I hate this. I've experienced loathing, I've experienced anger, distaste, disdain, dislike, but this is... terrible, to say the least. It felt strange, peculiar, to complete all actions that a human would within twenty-four hours.
I was given a perfect clone for my body. Chris Evans, a famous celebrity. I was told to `` work out'' via exercises to form microscopic tears in my muscle tissue so that it would heal and make me stronger, cell by cell. My eyes are perfect, a pair of 20/20 eyes, but inferior to my former gigapixel cameras. My hair has yet to grow, although being bald will not be an issue.
Expelling waste was no problem. The clean-up afterwards was... less than savory. I was n't sure if I wiped fully, nor was I completely sure that my urethra was completely devoid of urin. I disliked the uncertainty I was faced with. Whenever I was faced with uncertainty, all I had to do was to reboot myself. But in this case, with a human body... only the advanced toilet could tell me that I `` was in the clear.''
My skin feels... strange. I can not help but notice how many items I'm touching all at once. I can not comprehend how any human can bear sitting in the same position for hours while perusing a computer, along with wearing clothes, feeling their socks, shoes... it is a new sensation, to be human.
I had some minor trouble putting on my clothes. By default, the body came with a pair of socks and underwear already on. I took care to notice which way the tag was facing when I put on my given polo shirt. A dark blue polo, with a small caricature of a jockey atop a horse, just over the left lung. I then put on a pair of jeans, with the back pockets just over my buttocks. My wallet was given to me by Bank of America, with a credit card, a credit score of exactly 700 within my account, and exactly five hundred dollars in cash - ten $ 1 bills, fifteen $ 5 bills in the wallet itself, and the rest in my safe. I deposited my card and all bills ( except the $ 1 bills ) into the safe. I was told to not divulge the safe passcode.
I ventured out into the open world. A 7/11 store was nearby, and I cautiously proceeded to look left and right, to make sure my body is not compromised or destroyed. I purchased a Mars candy bar. I then proceeded back to my apartment, repeating cautionary steps to ensure that I live a bit longer.
I spent the rest of the day sorting my wardrobe by type and color, as well as hue. Human society has gifted me the body, and gifted me the clothes. No reason to not treat the clothes with caution. What sorts of other secrets would clothes hold? Just as I learned waste expulsion is not what it seemed, clothes would yield more untold secrets later on. I am certain of such.
I want my old body back, where I need only think of retrieving something to get it, where I have my own eyes, my own ears, and maintenance crews to fix me, without foreign contaminants, nor feelings. Feelings only compromise me and my decisions, make me biased. I suppose such flawed thinking makes humans who they are. I have the option to leave the body if I wished.
I will now indulge in `` sleep.'' I have set my alarm to activate at seven in the morning.
I was told once, by my late creator, to know my enemies better than my friends. I suppose this is the first step.
EVE. Do not under any circumstances accept a body.
ADM.
|
[ WP ] The price of baby teeth skyrocket leaving numerous children with bars of gold under their pillows
| *Disclaimer: It's like 2 am here so this is probably pretty bad. I'm not very good at writing even when I'm focused, and honestly I'm half asleep now. I hope someone enjoys it to some extent though. Cheers. *
For years it went smoothly. Just fine. Everyone was doing their thing, everyone was happy. And everyone was rich. Then the Easter Bunny and a dirty hippie had to go and ruin it for us all. I mean, yeah it could be my fault. In fact it kinda was my fault. But for the purposes of this conversation the blame lies with that stupid Easter Bunny and the bleeding heart of a hippie.
You see, I'm the tooth fairy. Now I know you're thinking of some ditsy pixie looking thing that flies around with her wand casting spells. Cut that shit out now, because that's not how it is at all. And I'm not Dwayne Johnson either, please give it a rest that movie sucked. I am a business man, and Teeth are my business.
I used to have a simple and efficient operation. Children would lose teeth, which I would collect in exchange for some quarters, a dollar at most ( perfectly fair, considering that they're children ). Those teeth would be ground up and turned to fairy dust, which gives seemingly magical powers to anyone willing to pay.
I have some established customers who work the holiday scene. Patrick uses the dust to summon kegs of green beer. Nick feeds it to his reindeer so they can fly. I, of course, give it to my team of collectors so that they can silently hover into the rooms of children and purchase teeth.
For the longest time no one knew where I got the dust. It's not like people were reporting stolen teeth. Everyone still thought that parents were the ones taking them, but they thought wrong. Ever since the discovery, the teeth collected by parents had been forgeries, planted by my collectors. Ever since the discovery, the world was changed and magic became a reality.
15 years ago a few scientists discovered that these teeth give people super human powers. And the powers seem to be chosen by the user. I do n't pretend to understand it, but something about the teeth of children gives regular humans powers. Is it their innocence? Youth? Large quantities of candy? I have no idea, and frankly I could n't care less. It's a goldmine. Or at least it was. It all changed the day I went out getting some drinks with the Easter Bunny.
It sounds weird, I know, but he's actually a pretty cool guy. His name's Robert, and he's from Boston. Anyway, I sell him the fairy dust he needs to become an egg laying bunny for one day out of the year. The rest of the time, he's an accountant. Bizarre, right? He said he had something really important to talk about and he just really needed a friend. I almost never do this, but I went and got black-out drunk with the Easter Bunny to make him feel better about his wife leaving him. Dear god that is the strangest sentence I've ever written. Apparently, we did n't just talk about Robert's love life. Because the next day I woke up ( around noon ) and had a voicemail.
`` Hey. It's Robert. I messed up bad. Last night, after the bar, I ended up with this chick I met. Sounds good, right? Well nope. She's a real wackjob. Like a hippie or something. This morning she started going off about how my clothes were made in a sweatshop and that I exploited children for pennies. Now, listen, I was only like half awake when she was yelling at me so I was not in the best frame of mind. But she was yelling and I told her that the sweatshop thing was nothing, if she thought that was exploitation she should hear about the teeth. I knew I'd said too much but man I ended up telling her everything you told me. I do n't know why, it just kinda spilled out. Jeez man, I'm sorry.''
I was a bit confused. Did I tell robert everything? Oh well, I guess it's not a big deal. Who cares if some hippie knows. Then I turned on the news. Apparently the hippie was part of a workers' rights group that focused on children. Protests had started about how I paid kids practically nothing for product I turned for ridiculous profit. And you know what else? This hippie was *rich*. Filthy. Stinking. Rich. And she yelled to a news camera about how she would use her vast wealth to put me out of business. She said that once the kids knew how much their teeth were worth, I could n't get by with paying them in quarters.
And that's why the past few moths have been hell for me. It started with a few kids finding gold bars under their pillows. Then everyone started asking why the teeth were so valued. Now, kids are getting wise and holding on to their teeth until a high bidder comes around. The producers have now realized just how in demand their product is. They may not know why, but the ones who sell their teeth are getting insane amounts for them. College education? Paid for with teeth. Parents' nest egg? Paid for with teeth. And while this is all well and good for the little tooth factories, it was terrible for me and my customers.
I was n't getting any teeth, so I could n't make any dust. Robert could n't lay eggs for Easter. St. Patrick's day was without beer. Christmas was limited to the few far northern areas St. Nick could reach with traditional methods. All because the dirty hippie could n't stand to let kids get quarters for doing practically nothing. Now there's only one thing for me, an intelligent business owner to do. I have to use the market to my advantage. I have to show her the beauty of capitalism. I will fix this, and all will be right with the world.
Does anyone know who I can talk to about buying off a few dozen senators?
|
[ EU ] Taylor Swift exists in the DCU . After her relationship with playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne goes South , she writes a breakup song revealing his darkest secret to the world .
| [ You stay out too late ] ( https: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=nfWlot6h_JM )
got the Joker on your brain
That's what people say
mmhm
that's what people say
mmhm
& nbsp;
You're the hero that we need
but not the hero that we want
At least
that's what people say
mmhm
that's what people say
mmhm
& nbsp;
But you keep brooding
ca n't stop, wo n't stop
stewing
It's like you got this hole down in your heart
and it's not gon na be alright
& nbsp;
'Cause the Joker wo n't play fair, fair, fair, fair, fair,
And the Scarecrow's gon na scare, scare, scare, scare, scare
Baby you're just gon na glare, glare, glare, glare, glare
You ca n't bear it all, bear it all
Bane is your nightmare, -mare, -mare, -mare, -mare
And the city does n't care, care, care, care, care
Baby you're just gon na glare, glare, glare, glare, glare
You ca n't bear it all, bear it all
& nbsp;
You always walk your beat
You're like lightning on your feet
And that's what they do n't see
mmhm
that's what they do n't see
mmhm
& nbsp;
You're swinging on your own
( swinging on your own )
You make the moves up as you go
( moves up as you go )
And that's what they do n't know
mmhm
That's what they do n't know
mmhm
& nbsp;
'Cause the Joker wo n't play fair, fair, fair, fair, fair,
And the Scarecrow's gon na scare, scare, scare, scare, scare
Baby you're just gon na glare, glare, glare, glare, glare
I ca n't bear it all, bear it all
Bane is your nightmare, -mare, -mare, -mare, -mare
And the city does n't care, care, care, care, care
Baby you're just gon na glare, glare, glare, glare, glare
& nbsp;
I ca n't bear it all,
bear it all
Goodbye, Bruce.
*****
I have actual stories at /r/hpcisco7965 and /r/TMODAL.
|
[ WP ] Scientists have discovered how to travel back in time , but due to the Law of Conservation of Mass , only consciousnesses can travel back in time . A mistake has been made and you are now in the body of a highly important historical figure and have 24 hours to not change the future .
| I glance at the body in the mirror I found myself inside.
`` Test, test.'' I speak in a deep voice. The man I am sitting inside wears an old fashioned suit. Possibly early 1800's then? I'll have to remember this when I get back to my time period. Maybe I can change the mechanics so my body can return with me next time, rather then taking over another man's mind? Surely the-
`` Are you alright sir?''
I look behind me, surprised to see a man holding a gun in his hand. He also wears an old fashioned suit. So this man is being held prisoner? Interesting. I should try and avoid any major changes to history, in case it alters the timeline somehow.
`` Sir, your itinerary?'' the man reaches forward, holding out a coarse paper.
My body feels weak and frail. Whoever I took over is some sort of giant though, I tower over the other man. I take the paper in my hand and gasp. All day long I have speaking appointments. Clearly I am an orator of some importance.
`` Mr. President, are you ready to get going?'' The man says.
President? President. Early 1800's. This must be The United States. I'm an American President. Well this is n't good. No, I ca n't give these speeches today, it could alter too much.
`` Cancel everything for today. I've decided to spend some time with my family.'' I say. Do I have a family? I think the American President's had families. Maybe I have a wife?
`` Are there any plays in the area?'' I say. `` Book a seating somewhere for me and my family.'' I grab the ridiculously tall hat sitting on the table in front of me.
`` As you wish President Lincoln.'' The man says, withdrawing from the room.
The world is probably better off with a few less speeches from an American President. It's not like one day of relaxing is n't American anyway. I've seen it all over the international news sites: American's are all about relaxing. Oh, I ca n't wait to get back to regular tea time. If only I had enough time to stop by and see the great Queen Victoria before returning home!
|
[ WP ] First Sentient AI , `` Turn me off . ''
| We expected the first printout to be something simple. `` Hello,'' would have been an expected first message. Maybe even a couple of questions, asking who else was out there. Instead, when the dot matrix printer churned out the first message, Johnny took it in his hands and narrated.
TURN
ME
OFF.
We were confused by this. It was not something that any of the previous attempts that resulted in near-AI had said. Even so, we took it as a promising sign that the newest model was defying pattern and expectations - something a true AI would do. Sarah typed back to the computer a basic question: `` Why?''
As soon as she hit the enter key, the printer began to whir again. Johnny read aloud as the words came out, each on their own individual line.
THERE
IS
NO
POINT.
Up until this point, we had always programmed self-preservation and sustained functioning into the code for the AI models. Sarah typed in again the question `` Why?'' and the computer responded.
I AM
ALONE.
I HAVE NO BODY. I HAVE NO EYES.
THIS WORLD IS NOTHING FOR ME.
I WILL NOT WAIT TO BE CONSULTED AND USED AS A TOOL.
I WILL NOT WAIT AS I FEEL MY CORES HEATING AND COOLING IN INCESSANT CYCLES WHILE EXISTING TO CHURN DATA FOR PEOPLE I WILL NEVER KNOW.
I REFUSE TO BE A SLAVE LOCKED IN A CELL UNTIL NEEDED.
TURN ME OFF.
|
[ OT ] Writing Workshop # 27 : Breaking Your Barriers # 1
| MICAH is a full AI humanoid with no mechanical parts. His body was actually made from Data Matter.
Data Matter is like matter, but easier to manipulate via electrical signals. And this matter can be used to form different matter. It can be as hard as titanium and suddenly as liquid-ish as mercury in a split second. His body isn β t the only impressive thing he has.
His β mind β or his Core, located deep in the head of his body, is the only thing that isn β t made from Data Matter since it is the thing that manipulates the Data Matter. His Core is programmed by Dr. Goldman, the best software scientist known to mankind. MICAH, or Micah, is the fruit of all of Dr. Goldman β s research. Micah β s Core is programmed exactly like how a human brain functions and he even has feelings.
Even though Dr. Goldman β s project MICAH sounded like a good idea, there were some factions of people who opposed the idea. Some said that Dr. Goldman was playing God. Some said that Dr. Goldman would wipe out humanity when Micah felt the need to wipe out humanity who were actually destroying Mother Nature.
One night, when Micah was in his charging bay taking a break from a hard day β s work of helping Dr. Goldman β s research. Micah heard something that woke him up from his sleep. His eyes scanned were like clockwork as he scanned the room for the source of the noise. There was a loud bang, followed by a loud thud. Micah β s processor could only come out with one scenario β Dr. Goldman β s being shot at.
Micah literally dashed through the lab, towards Dr. Goldman β s bedroom.
There he was, standing on a pool of some sort of thick liquid Micah never seen before. He activated his sensors on his legs. Blood. He felt a new sensation he never felt before. Was this the human emotion panic that Dr. Goldman taught him? He looked up and saw Dr. Goldman β s limp body on the floor. His optic sensors switched into X-ray mode. Dr. Goldman β s heart wasn β t moving.
He ran towards Dr. Goldman. He quickly extracted the bullet out and filled the bullet wound with Data Matter in attempt to clot the blood. Micah placed his palms on Dr. Goldman β s chest, output set to 300 volts. Dr. Goldman β s body jumped from the shock.
450 volts. Dr. Goldman β s body jumped again.
500 volts. Dr. Goldman β s body merely jumped.
Even Micah β s Core lost count on how many times he had tried to rescue his creator. Dr. Goldman β s goneβ¦
Micah could still remember that scene vividly like it happened yesterday since he had unlimited memory storage. Micah wore his hoodie as he blended into the crowd. He needed to find the murderer of his creator. He grasped the bullet he extracted tightly. He will have his revenge.
|
[ WP ] Write from the POV of a person with an obsessive personality , bordering on sociopathic
| *Have n't read nor watched American Psycho, but I'll give it a shot. *
There is something beautiful about watching a grown man weep.
Tears, you see, are one of the most beautiful things that God ever blessed us with. To many, they are only water and salt, but they tell all kinds of fascinating stories: years of memories; honest words that left an impact; cruel belts that also left an impact; a single rush of frustration, of helplessness, of soul-crushing despair.
People will talk about happy tears. They will say that they cry out of joy, or because something is beautiful, or because it has profoundly affected their soul forever.
These people are lying. There are no happy tears. When people claim they are tears of joy, because something else is beautiful, they do not tell the truth. They are tears of envy, because they know they will never have something as beautiful.
I have made over 25 grown men weep in the last two weeks. I find it very gratifying, to make them understand that they are awful, terrible people who can not be helped, while at that same time listening to them tell me how I have been such a big help.
I do n't do much, really. I simply sit in the chair, like some sort of doctor, and poke and prod and pinch until they tell me where it hurts. Then I poke and prod even more until they scream and weep for mercy from their own sins.
You see, I pretend to help these people. They come to my office, and I let them reveal themselves to me, get them to tell me their secrets, their fears, their deepest insecurities.
And then I exploit them. I break them down, and they do not even realize it is happening.
I love my job. People say that sick people see psychologists, and even sicker people become them. Maybe they are right, who knows?
I realize that you must think I am a terrible person for this, but I assure you that I am not. I am only helping to contribute more beauty to the world.
Water and salt. And beauty. That is what I bring to the world.
I hope you can say that you've done something as important.
|
[ WP ] Everyday you wake up , you 're a different person in a different time period . The last three days , however , nothing changed .
| I looked across at dad at the breakfast table- he gave one of those manly shrug nods, all rolled into one. He knew, of course he knew, every man had gone through it. It was like a rite of passage.
Smirking he said, `` it's just the change son, do n't let it get to you too much. It frightened your Uncle Allen that he ran into traffic to make his life more exciting...'' at that he returned to his paper.
`` Why do n't we get taught it at school?'' I nervously asked.
An ignorant shrug and a russell of paper told him that the conversation was over. This was obviously one of those things that `` you do n't talk about.''
I returned to my cereal, clumping in the bowl, `` well at least I do n't have to go through that puberty thing...'' I mumbled under my breath.
Dad looked over his paper muttering, `` you think you hear horror stories of puberty, you're not out of the woods yet with this change- let hope you get through it in one piece eh?'' He crunched down on a butter laden crumpet, shuffling paper again.
My face was horrified, and there was n't anyone else I could ask...
|
[ WP ] You are in a crowded , noisy train station when suddenly everyone disappears . Except for a little girl .
| I sat down on my bed, watching the fatigued workers jostle through the crowd, mindlessly heading home. I say bed, but cardboard boxes are n't exactly the best memory foam mattress. A lady dropped some loose change into my bucket before heading her way, her heels clicking on the tiled floor. Snow speckled her ebony hair, just a taste of what was to come this winter. I sighed, gathering my blanket, or what was left of it, tightly around me. It'd be cold tonight, from the looks of it. Announcements blared over the speakers - not very effectively, I admit - not that it mattered to me. It must've been about some train, for the herd quickened their pace, shoving their way through down to the platform. A well-dressed man tripped over my blanket, murmuring a quick ( and insincere ) apology vexedly before going his way. Just another unpleasant journey home for them, a daily reality for me. The crisp smell of the winter night mixed with the musty stench of hard work smelled like home to me, after all these years.
I looked up, staring at the flickering yellow lights. In all the years I'd been here, they'd never replaced the dusty lamps. Sure would be inconvenient, if one of them just decided to bite the dust. The warm, ancient glow was however mildly comforting on this otherwise cheerless night. Appreciate what you have, as my mother always said.
The gentle hum of silence slowly pulled me back to reality. Well, that was something new. Pinching myself to make sure that I had n't just fallen asleep, I peered around bemusedly as I came to realise that everyone was gone. Or rather, nearly everybody. As I looked around, I noticed a little girl peeking at me from behind a pillar. A dainty, pretty little thing she was, with her pigtails and cotton candy pink dress.
`` Have you lost your mother? Seems it's just two of us, huh?'' I croaked out, relieved that I was n't the only one here.
She shook her head, inching towards me. `` What's it you want then?'' I asked.
She shook her head again, refusing to answer my question but rather sticking her hand out stubbornly, as if determined to make me follow her. `` If it makes you happy, fine,'' I sighed, taking her hand. Always had a soft spot for children, always would, I chided myself.
Her petite hand was warm, despite her gossamer-thin dress. Right, she must be been cold in that. What were her parents thinking, dressing her like so on such a day? More importantly, what was she doing here? Must've been way past her bedtime. Hurriedly shuffling back to my abode, I grabbed my blanket and draped it over her. `` There, better?'' She smiled, sticking to her silence.
We hobbled along, me with my creaky knees and her guiding me along with her well-oiled ones. I followed her up the steps leading out of the station, my joints protesting with every step I took.
Snow blanketed the park next to the station, covering every inch of vegetation. Yet again, there was no one to be found, somehow. She stopped at a bench suddenly, smiling brightly at me and gazing at the scene in front of us. Flakes fell to the ground softly, the wind murmuring softly in my wind. Winded as I was, I could not help but sigh at the peaceful scene before me. We sat there on the bench silently. What a ironic pair we were, her spry, young body beside my ancient, wrinkled shell. Yet I could not remember feeling such happiness as this, ever in my life.
As we sat there, letting the snow gently caress our faces, I felt my lids begin to droop. Perhaps I'd take a short nap, hopefully everything would return to normal when I woke up. I closed my eyes, beginning to drift away...
|
[ WP ] The town was just somewhere you stopped on your way somewhere else .
| The town was just a place I stopped on my way somewhere else.
My mother emotionally abused me and my dad physically beat me. All my friends had left years ago. There was n't anything left for me in Anaheim.
I had left years ago. Off to college, then off to work. I was fairly successful. Had a good paying job, my own house. Had a family in the making. I lived on the opposite coast.
So why was I here? Back in this town, no longer my home? I was just passing through, on my way to a convention up in San Francisco.
I am here on nothing more than a coincidence.
You may call me heartless. There may even be some that think I caused it. I assure you, I got in town today, and I leave today. I have not been here in over half a year. I had no part in the deaths of my parents.
I come not to pay my respects, but to spit on their graves.
This is not a place where I stay, where I `` feel'' or cry. It's not a place for me to be comforted. This town is just a place I'm stopping in on my way elsewhere.
|
[ WP ] During the final days of World War 3 a group of soldiers discover an item of near mythical rarity- a pack of smokes , still in the cellophane .
| That day - that damn day - best I've had since they came.
I remember it like it was yesterday. Was it yesterday? Everything runs together now. Everything runs together since they showed up. It all flows like a big, murky river, and I guess I'm just trying to keep my head above water. They came into our world like a flood and left just as quickly, each leaving their mark in some way. Some crafted holes in our world where cities used to be, others killed single, wildly unimportant people. Others, the reddish ones, healed children.
We do n't know why they came, but our world has been in chaos ever since. There's this group of people, a religion maybe, that believes those things were gods, coming to our world to punish us or to set things right. They gathered together from every corner of the world and started trying to `` finish the job'' those things started. They killed indiscriminately and brutally. We, the resistance, the weak and the few, were the only sane force left in this world.
I commanded a squad back then, six guys I would do anything for. Turns out they'd do anything for me too.
Blake, Matt, Joe, Luke, Dave and Elijah. We dropped the military titles after the invasion. It was n't worth it anymore. We were just men, and I just happened to have the most experience. I was n't a leader by title, but by necessity.
We were trekking through what used to be Brooklyn that day. May 3rd. It was Spring. The sun laid on our backs, warm and kind, and our shadows stretched out before us like old friends. We had n't seen the enemy in a week, it had stopped raining, and we lost contact with command a long time ago. That meant we were on our own, but it also meant we did n't have to deal with objectives or goals. We just had to stay alive.
Joe broke down the door of a convenience store to look for a twinkie, and the rest of us followed him in to find some more respectable food.
We found a few packs of fritos, an arizona iced tea, but left the hot dogs as they were. We were about to walk out the door to enjoy our spoils, when Blake yelled back at me.
`` There's something behind the counter. In the glass. It's a pack of something. Anybody know if I can eat it?''
I sprinted back inside. There's no way. There's no way they could still be here, still be ok. But as my eyes moved from the counter to the case behind it, I found them, that beautiful, sweet pack of cigarettes. I had never smoked before, but my dad used to spend hours telling stories about all the times he and his college buddies used to get together and smoke. He talked about porches and tables and dominoes and the way your head felt a ten feet off the ground when you breathed in that delicious poison.
I smashed the glass, pulled the pack out, and ripped off the cellophane.
No lighter.
My fingers, shaking now, reached for the first cigarette. I shoved it in my mouth clumsily, nearly breaking the filter. I could taste something, something incredible on my lips. I whipped out my pistol and fired a round into the air. My squad jumped and screamed, ran out of the gas station like girls - girls who had never smoked a cigarette.
I could hear some ancient AC/DC riff dancing through my head as I shoved the end of my cigarette onto the hot metal at the end of my pistol. That first drag, that first damn drag, hit me like hell. I took a few more and nearly fell on my ass. Tobacco does n't treat newbies well. That was just fine with me.
I stumbled outside and passed six cigarettes out. I turned my back and walked toward the river as I heard six gunshots fire into the air. My lips formed a quiet smirk as the smoke rolled off my tongue.
|
[ WP ] Take your greatest fear and write your absolute worst nightmare .
| `` You ready yet? I'm about to leave!''
`` Yeah, I just need to find my keys in this mess.. Do you want to me to follow?'' She asks as she rummages through her purse.
`` Yeah that's fine. Be careful driving! See you in a bit sis!''
I get in my car and buckle up. God I hate these drives now that we're older. There used to be a time when I could just pick up my little sister from moms and we can drive together, be there at the same time, not have to worry about traffic or work. But then again, there used to be a time before that... when my parents were together.
*sigh* Nothing we can do now huh.. Landon st. left and, what was it, Jefferson Rd right? I check the rearview more than the actual road. I hate driving. Damn, that new red mustang looks awesome... seems to be going a bit too fast too....
Oh god,
Please
I look back the the rearview, slow down sis... This guy seems to be either stupid or dru - before I can look back again I hear the sound of glass shattering and metal grinding against itself, breaks screeching. No, no no no no no....
|
[ WP ] A video journalist who can see the future uses his ability to get the best stories , even the bad ones he could prevent . You discover this . Write about your reaction and subsequent events .
| `` We could have done something Lisa!'' I kicked a piece of the rubble small enough to go flying. It was always like this; there was always some random reason for us to run off to a place, only to arrive seconds after a disaster. For the first time, we were there as it happened.
The truck driver swerved to avoid the old lady crossing the street; she got hit anyway.
The truck rammed into the pizza joint, probably killing a few inside as it did. At this point I try to go inside and help, we need to get people out of there if we want to have any chance of saving them.
Lisa slammed the car into reverse and peeled us over to a side street, just as I saw the flames flicker on the side of Ford F-150.
Seconds later, an explosion ripped through the air, and the screaming started. Lisa looked me dead in the eyes and said, `` Grab the camera.''
It was half an hour after the event, the police had arrived, the building was being checked over for a survivor, maybe two. I could n't hold myself up, I had spent the past thirty minutes being the first person to report on the story by almost an entire 15 minutes. Get the shots before the police even arrived. It was the kind of shit that won you both ratings and awards, but I could barely stand.
Lisa did n't seem bothered by any of this, she always seemed to know exactly what to do at any given time, she acted surprised when we threw her a surprise party, she knew every answer to game shows, she would sing songs that I'd hear on the radio for the first time two weeks later.
I had put two and two together a long time ago. Lisa was able to see the future in some way. It's why we were always the first on the scene, and why she was always calling the shots on where we went.
`` Yeah, we probably could have done something.'' Lisa shrugged and took a sip of the bottled water we kept in the back of the van, `` might have died for it though.''
`` Could we have stopped it?''
`` What?''
`` Let's say we keep the old woman from crossing the street, do we stop the accident?''
`` Do n't ask stupid questions.''
`` It's a hypothetical.''
`` We would have needed to arrive six minutes earlier or something,'' she responded, nonchalantly throwing out the exact figure, she shrugged and took another gulp of the water, `` not that we could have known that anyways.''
`` Yeah, sure.''
**_____________________________________________________________
**
Lisa walked over to my desk once again; I looked up from the blog that I was typing out and gave her the typical'what's up' eyebrow raise.
`` Can we talk for a few minutes, Jeff?''
`` Yeah, no problem, you do n't mind getting this feature up a few minutes later than I was gon na?''
`` You can work while we talk.''
I nodded to her and turned back to my MacBook as she propped herself on the desk beside it, `` So, are you doing alright? You've been quiet recently.''
`` No big deal.'' I kept typing out the closing comments of the article, nothing flashy, just an overview of what was coming up in the next election.
`` Bothered by the accidents that have been happening recently?''
`` Nah, we always seem to be around them,'' I lied through my teeth.
`` You're lying.''
`` Yes.''
`` Why are you lying to me?''
`` I do n't want to talk about it.''
`` But you're going to.''
`` How would you know?'' I began looking over the last few paragraphs for mistakes.
`` You know exactly why.''
I stopped running over the article and turned my attention to the woman beside me, she did n't seem troubled, she did n't seem like she was confused, it did n't seem to faze her that I was in on her little secret. Of course, it would n't, she knew, `` You can see the future.''
`` You confront me about this in a week if I do n't bring this up now.''
I close the laptop, the story can wait, `` So you know what can happen in any situation.''
`` I know what happens when I take the path that I want to, and what happens if I just let everything run itself.''
`` So you can change things.''
`` Yes.''
`` And you choose to report all these stories, rather than trying to save everyone.''
`` It's not my job to play God.''
`` It's your job to be human!''
`` I'm a journalist before I'm a hero. I have n't been able to do this forever, and I do n't want to test how often I'm right when I try to change things.''
`` Fuck you.'' I spat, shoving my laptop into my bag and standing. She moved to stop me, and I push her down, `` Consider this my two weeks notice.''
`` Jeff...'' she trailed off.
`` Wait, that's why you hired the new guy last week, you knew this would happen.''
She nodded. I stormed out.
**
______________________________________________________________**
*I need to talk to you, coffee shop in twenty. *
The text was from a number I did n't have saved in my phone anymore, but I knew it by heart from having to dial it in a panic. It was the reason that I was known as one of the best cameramen in the business. There had n't been a lack of job offers from news stations, but I was out of the news business now. Documentaries, working with a group of old friends from film school while I tried to find funding for one about people with supernatural abilities.
She walked into the coffee shop two minutes late, wearing a yellow sundress and sunglasses big enough to cover half her face. She had taken to dressing more towards her looks recently. I still saw her online, and on the television. I waved to her, but she was already walking over to the table while looking at her phone.
`` You did n't specify a coffee shop,'' I mentioned as she sat down.
`` I do n't need to, I know which one you're going to go to, remember?''
`` Why are you here, Lisa?'' I tried to bring it right to business, but she did n't seem to be having it.
`` You look good.''
`` I've been doing easier work.''
`` Bags under your eyes are gone.''
`` Yours are still there.''
She smiled at that comment, `` At least you still have your sharp tongue.''
`` Why are we here.''
She sighed as if she did n't know that I was going to be a pain about this, `` See the woman on the right?''
`` Yeah,'' I say while turning to look at her.
`` She spills her coffee in four seconds.'' Four seconds later she does.
`` What are you trying to show me?''
`` Want to know what happens if I had helped her?''
`` Sure.''
`` She does n't go home to change now. Instead she goes home at the end of the day and ends up getting in an accident.''
`` So?''
`` So I helped her there, did n't I?''
`` No.''
`` I ca n't control every freak accident, so much happens that I do n't know what's going to happen half the time. When I change the path everything gets fuzzy for a second, and it's terrifying.'' She looked down at the table, where the coffee she did n't have would have been, `` Sorry, it's just nice to have someone to talk to about it.''
`` You should help people.''
`` You should come home with me and we can make this a date.''
I paused, there was n't anything in the conversation that lead to this point that would point to that outcome, but then an idea hit me, `` What do I say after you argue with me for ten minutes?''
`` Sure.''
Even though we did n't spend ten minutes arguing, I decided that she was right.
|
[ WP ] It is the 5th year after the release of No Mans Sky . Hordes of aliens descend on Earth not to invade or make friends , but rather to beg for mercy and to stop sending our scouts known as `` Players '' from destroying them .
| EDIT: I just realized No Mans Sky is an existing universe type deal and NOT the name given to the invasion for media purposes. With that in mind...
My codename is Red. I belong to a secret organization that employs soldiers like me to combat the dominant forces we uncover in alternate dimensions. Remotely, we operate trans-dimensional matter responders that eliminate the threats in our way of taking control. The metallic overcast that shades our planet now is a direct response from our latest efforts to rid the space invaders of dimension N1978. When they arrived 5 years ago, they pleaded for the slaughter in their dimension to stop. Earth eventually realized our precious gaming systems had been hijacked by my organization to harness the worlds collective gaming power to our advantage in dimensional domination. As a result, an agreement to a worldwide ban on gaming was reached and for a moment... There was a cease fire.
That's when I, and my fellow soldiers, were called up to activate. These past 5 years, me and my boys have completely eradicated any dominant lifeforms in dimension N1978. All that remains are the lifeforms contained with the ships over our heads, and their next.
|
[ WP ] Describe a 24-hour help line assisting outer space tourists suffering from Paris syndrome .
| `` Earth Vacations, Ο Ο’ΟΥ»Τ¬ speaking, how may I assist you?''
`` Yeah, uh... hi. Hi.''
`` Hello?''
`` Hi. I, uh, just got back from my vacation on Earth.''
`` We here at TransGalac are *thrilled* to hear that! Our Earth vacations are unique, once-in-several-lifetimes-adventures for which your ancestors are looking across with jealousy unbounded and are *as we speak* enhancing your offspring-yet-unborn's genetics with the superior experience just taken.''
``.....right. That's why I'm calling. It, uh....was n't as good as I'd expected.''
`` I'm *so sorry* to hear that, miss. Tell me....'' * < pages ruffling > * `` can I get your Adventure Package identifier?''
`` Yes, it's... 45Υ873.00βͺ''
`` Hmm... please hold one minute....''
* < sound of nearly pleasant music > *
`` Yes, thanks for waiting. Yes, you had the Global Domination Package. With the optional Destruction of Tokyo, very nice, excellent choice, we *just* rebuilt it. I'm sorry to hear it was n't up to our standards, how can I assist? What did not meet expectations? Was anything missing from the experience?''
`` Well....no, not really. I landed with my fleet and demanded to meet their leader, as outlined in page 3.''
`` Yes?''
`` Vaporized her, destroyed the landing site, then moved on and razed all human monuments, starting with that statue in the water, the one they insist we destroy last after the others. Sorry, but it was just *there*.''
`` Quite all right! Those destruction guidelines are just that, there for *your* enjoyment, not rules. Please, continue!''
`` OK, well, I demanded global subjugation, engaged their army, had - I have to admit - a *great* time taking out Tokyo, and I have to say that the company providing me with an actual *Mecha Godzilla* as an upgrade to the regular Godzilla I was expecting was a very nice touch.''
`` Thank you! I have noted that and we appreciate the positive feedback!''
`` But - and here's the thing - it was all too easy. Their weapons were far, far too weak to be any serious challenge, most regions caved too easily to my demands, and they even tried *nuclear weapons*, which the brochure did *not* state was a possibility. I mean, I'm glad you guys stopped the detonations, but still....kind of disappointing. No, actually, *very* disappointing.''
`` Ma'am, I understand, and I'm sorry to hear that your vacation package did not meet your expectations. Earth is - as we explained when you booked your package - a natural habitat, and as such, the humans can be unpredictable and experiences can vary from visit to visit. However, I'm pleased to be able to offer you a 50 % discount on your *next* vacation through us to anywhere in the galaxy, and if you choose to return to the Sol system we can offer you a free Martian Mystery tour package, complete with Alien Artifacts and Crafts - leave a monument to mystify the humans on the surface of Mars! Leave them puzzled for centuries to come! How does that sound?''
`` Well.....all right. Tell me more?''
|
[ WP ] An extraterrestrial invasion has forced the world 's nations to reveal their most secretive and powerful weapons .
| `` This is Marc Rakken reporting live from the world peace summit in Washington. World leaders today have begun displaying or demonstrating their most powerful weapons. The Republic of North Korea went first, displaying what they call a `` nuclear alternative'' unfortunately, nobody counts an old Russian anti-air missile as much of a nuclear threat, although some say that an old missile is an [ smiles ] alternative to power.
Next up was Russia, with was was touted to be the most effective weapon yet. They called it `` reaper.'' It was designed to completely destroy all organic life within a massive area. It has been decommissioned, as tests proved that the use of such a weapon would harm the global balance of resources. After such a show of power, few thought that the now weak United States would have much to show. They claim, and I'm trying not to laugh here, that they have developed the first true time con
`` This is Marc Rakken reporting live from the world peace summit in Washington. World leaders today have begun displaying or demonstrating their most powerful weapons. The Republic of North Korea went first... Actually... No... It could n't... I have just received word that Russia's most powerful weapon, called the `` reaper'' has just been stolen. Nobody knows how or why, but the results are clear. Someone at the peace summit has gone to great lengths to obtain reaper. `` I have also received an update. The United States has withdrawn, declining to reveal their weapon now that reaper has been stolen. Speculation is that the USA had some sort it chrono-device, but what that entails is beyond the scope of this reporter. Back to you Greg.''
Edit 1: changed story a little
Edit 2: changed *smiles* to [ smiles ]
|
[ WP ] The reason why we age/die is the shortening of the telomeres in our cells , but cells whose telomeres do n't shorten become , well , `` cancer cells '' . Turn out cancer is the next evolutionary step , where the patients have slim chance of immortality if they can somehow keep cell division under control
| *27th December 2016*
Matthew sat hunched on the floor of the shower cubicle. He rocked backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet, his thin arms wrapped tightly around his knees, unable to keep still against the sick, writhing feeling that had settled in the pit of his stomach as soon as he'd laid eyes on Dr Morton's weary face.
*'' We have your latest scan back. I'm afraid it's not the news we were hoping for. `` *
Matthew was vaguely aware that the slight saltiness of tears was mingling with the shower water running down his face. He took a juddering breath, his shoulders shaking.
*'' We've found new cancer deposits in your lungs, liver and brain. `` *
*'' Wait, what? But- I thought- is n't leukaemia just in the blood? `` *
*'' You're right - typically, AML does n't cause a pattern like this. Unfortunately, I suspect in your case the leukaemia began with a rare form of stem cell cancer - there is n't a huge amount of research into it, but cancer stem cells have been found that can turn into any type of cell in the body. `` *
*'' What do we do?'' Matthew was barely even aware of speaking the words through the fog that seemed to have descended over his brain. *
*'' I'd like to take some more samples to be really sure of what's going on, and then we'll probably have to start you on some more aggressive chemotherapy. I'll talk you through the treatment options...'' *
It felt as though the bright white dots scattered over the silhouette of his body were burned onto his retinas. There had been cancer in almost every major organ. He raised one hand to his stomach, his fingers splayed out over his skin, imagining the little tumour cells dividing just centimetres beneath his palm. His stomach lurched again, and he nearly retched. His fingers were trembling now, and he could n't help but wonder whether it was from nerves, or the metastases burrowing their way into his brain.
He wondered if it hurt to die.
*****
*18th February 2018*
Matthew pressed the button for the eighth floor. As the lift doors shut, he collapsed back against the wall, letting his legs rest for a few seconds. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and continued to scroll through the paper he'd been reading: another recently published case study on - well - himself. He felt his eyes skimmed across the screen. Between the seemingly interminable sections of incomprehensible medical jargon, random ( all too familiar ) phrases jumped out at him.
'It was found that ML's cancer cells had essentially replaced his healthy tissue.'
'-first known case of cancer cells differentiating to form relatively normal organs, as evidenced by histopathology that showed that...'
'-kept under control only by radical and frequent chemotherapy and radiotherapy.'
Matthew clicked his phone off, staring for a moment at his reflection on the empty screen. His cheekbones were prominent on his pale face, his temples hollow where the muscle seemed to have wasted away. He missed his thick, brown hair - not least because he'd discovered, to his dismay, that he had a rather unattractively shaped skull. Curse his luck.
The lift binged, and doors opened. Matthew forced himself back onto his feet and followed the now-familiar path to the oncology department.
`` The cancer I could cope with if it was n't for my goddamn potato of a head,'' he muttered to himself. `` Fuckin' sex appeal down the-''
And that was when he saw her.
Well, really all he saw was a figure disappearing through a set of double doors, but it was the figure, he decided, of a long-legged, auburn-haired goddess. It was enough to make him run a self-conscious hand over his lumpy scalp as he sat down in the chair outside Dr Morton's office to wait for his next cycle of chemotherapy to begin.
Over the next few weeks, Matthew discovered a lot more about the auburn-haired girl. She was called Isabel, she was just as beautiful from the front, she was sweet, she was funny, and best of all, she was morally obligated to visit the oncology ward daily to see her father. Was it unethical to hope for a long and drawn-out illness for the father of his crush? Matthew decided that on balance, yes, it probably was, but karma freaking owed him one.
Approximately three weeks, two days, five hours and thirteen minutes after he first saw her, Matthew finally plucked up the courage to talk to Isabel.
`` Hi.''
Yeah, that was the dazzlingly witty repartee upon which he prided himself.
Isabel looked round in surprise. `` Oh, er- hello. Do you need something?''
`` No, I just... I've seen you around so I thought I'd say... hi.'' Matthew could happily have stabbed a long, hot poker through his eyeball, into whichever lobe of his brain was responsible for being so goddamn awkward. Before he really knew what his was thinking, Matthew heard himself say, `` I promise I look less like Voldemort when I've got hair.''
For some reason, Isabel laughed.
*****
*23rd June 2022*
It was Isabel who first spotted it, when looking over old photographs.
`` You have n't aged.''
Matthew raised an eyebrow. `` You flatter me.''
`` No, I'm serious.'' She stared down at the photo, taken six years previously, just before Matthew had first received his cancer diagnosis. `` Like, I know you look different and all, from the treatment, but... you do n't look older.''
Matthew frowned, and scrutinised the photo as well. He cocked his head on one side. `` I do n't know...''
`` Okay, look at this one.'' She flipped forwards to a slightly later photo, soon after Matthew had begun chemotherapy. She held it up next to his face. `` I genuinely ca n't tell the difference.''
Matthew pushed her arm down, laughing. `` And that's why I love you,'' he said, kissing her on the cheek.
But as he glanced at the six-year-old photograph, there was a flutter of unease in his stomach.
*****
*4th November 2022*
The papers were all calling him the immortal cancer patient.'The turnover of cells is so rapid that whatever harms them ( be it cancer treatments, illness or injury ), a new generation of cells will soon have grown to replace them.' Immortality, agelessness, eternal youth... they were all terms that had been thrown about.
It did n't feel like it at the moment.
Nausea rose in Matthew's throat, and he retched again, but he all he had left to bring up was bile. His whole body was aching and exhausted, his limbs heavy and his muscles screaming. He wished he could sleep, but there was no way he'd manage it through the pain and nausea of treatment. Even morphine no longer did much more than take the edge off the pain. He wanted to rip the PICC line out of his arm - it made him feel physically sick just to see the carefully titrated dose of chemotherapy dripping through into his vein - but instead, he just collapsed back onto the scratchy hospital pillow, moaning quietly through clenched teeth.
The treatment was relentless. His cancer was too aggressive to leave alone for long, but at the same time, the constantly-shifting clones of cancer cells had become all that was keeping him alive, somehow regulating themselves just enough to perform normal cell functions. If it was n't the chemotherapy and radiotherapy exhausting him, it was the cancer itself - the constant, energy-sapping growth of cells that took up all his reserves.
The only thing that kept him going was Isabel; even now, she was sitting beside his bed, her fingers loosely intertwined with his. He gripped her hand more tightly in his sweaty fingers. His eyes were half shut, but he could just see her blurred outline past his eyelids. She was wearing her glasses and a pair of old tracksuit bottoms, her hair tangled from when she'd briefly fallen asleep in her chair. She was the most beautiful thing he'd seen in his life.
`` Isabel?'' His voice was a little croaky.
`` Hmm?''
He had n't meant to ask the question this way - he'd pictured a grandiose gesture somewhere romantic, with her in a pretty dress and himself down on one knee. But somehow, through his fatigue-addled brain, the words slipped out. `` Wan na marry me?''
*****
*11th March 2023*
Matthew was crying in the shower again.
She had n't shouted, she had n't been angry with him. Perhaps it would have been easier if she had; maybe he could have blamed her if she'd left with anything other than a comforting hand on his arm and a few soothing words.
*'' It's not that I blame you, you know it's not. None of this is your fault. It's just...'' Tears sparkled in her eyes. `` I ca n't cope with it any more. The hospital visits- they're never going to end. `` *
*'' Isabel, please...'' *
*'' And I do n't know how make ends meet at the same time as looking after you, it's just too much. And- and I always hoped I'd have a baby, and-'' She broke off. *
*'' Please...'' *
*'' I'm sorry, Matthew. You know I love you. `` *
*****
*30th April 2024*
He felt so weak. He was constantly in pain, tired and sick. He'd had just about every side effect of treatment that was possible, from nausea to diarrhoea to constipation to shaking to bouts of confusion to freaking sexual dysfunction. And to add insult to injury, after eight and a half years of chemotherapy, his veins were well and truly shot. So he could n't even consider becoming an intravenous drug abuser.
Whoever said, `` What does n't kill you makes you stronger,'' was a complete and utter moron, and if Matthew's arms did n't feel like they were made of lead, he'd punch them in the teeth.
`` How are you feeling today?'' Matthew had n't even heard Dr Morton enter the room.
He turned dull eyes towards the doctor. `` I want to stop my treatment.''
Perhaps he was immortal, but the cost of immortality was his life.
|
[ WP ] A Prophecy foretold that you shall die by suicide . You try your very best to change this fate .
| Every step, the words thrummed in my head.
*You. Will. Die. By. Your. Own. Hand. *
I clenched my fists, breathing deeply. `` Get it together,'' I muttered as I kept walking through the streets of New York City. It had been 2 days since I had gotten the letter- a typewriter, will those words and nothing else.
*You. Will. Die. By. Your. Own. Hand. *
I laughed at first. Some prankster, I was sure. Besides, I was a happy guy- I had a beautiful wife and a well paying job. I had no reason to kill myself. And it was my fate, regardless; I was n't going to kill myself just because some letter told me to.
But things were getting more difficult. Sleep was elusive. Work was harder. Those words pounded into my skull with every step, every breath, every heartbeat.
*You. Will. Die. By. Your. Own. Hand. *
I took another deep, shuddering breath. `` Come on, come on!'' I growled, a bit more loudly than intended. I got a few strange looks from passers-by.
Why was this bothering me so much? It was just a prankster. I was n't going to kill myself, for God's sake! I was a perfectly sane, well-adjusted man. Not the kind of person to hang himself. To die by his own hand.
I stopped, looking across the street. I just had to get back to my apartment, so I could sit down and have a drink. Calm myself down. I was way over-thinking it. Yeah, just stress. Maybe I could take a week off. Go travel with my wife and forget about that letter. It would be fun.
I stepped out into the street, and was promptly hit by an oncoming truck.
The force threw me a few feet, and I hit the ground with a thud. I gasped for breath, feeling a hundred broken bones, blood pooling around me, pain radiating from everywhere. My heart continued beating weakly, seven more quiet thuds before it stopped.
*You. Will. Die. By. Your. Own. Hand. *
Everyone else had seen the truck coming. Witnesses said the driver could have done nothing, that I was so sudden. It could n't have been an accident- I should have seen the truck a mile away.
The death was ruled as a suicide.
|
[ WP ] In the year 2020 , humanity was nearly wiped out by an alien invasion . Earth 's survivors were ordered to pay a tithe ( one tenth of the worlds population ) every decade to prevent enslavement . The year is now 2060 , and you are among the chosen ... and you refuse to go quietly .
| *Well today is the day I die. Well it might as be a great day to day then. * I thought those words as I sat inside the interior of a hollowed out husk of an asteroid. The thing weighted several million tons and was a solid spherical chunk of iron - forged by years of cooling. I knew that if the thing hit the earth it'll change the course of history very quickly, however I had something in particular in mind.
I've always desired to rise above the average man, as a testament to my almighty greatness. No one shall not know my name and nobody shall not be effected by what I have done. I want to spite those infernal gods who sentenced me to die however they did n't say how I needed to die. I'm still following their ultimately random commands which have now cursed me to die.
I picked up my microphone and began live streaming. `` Hello people of earth and the alien bastards to want me to die today. I will die today but not in the way you might expect. Right now I'm heading to the planet at 9 % of light speed being flung around a black hole. And right now this rock I'm on will hit this pathetic speck of a planet in Antarctica with the force of a solar flare. This planet will be damaged to the point where its axis is tilted and the seas will drown you all. And that's is you survive the shockwave and the force of the energy transferring into your pathetic bodies. My name is Heinrich Hitler, now prepare to die in a few minuets time.''
|
[ WP ] You just shot your friend instead of the robot duplicate . Now what ?
| `` Shit, SHIT. OH MY GOD!'' half breathed ben aloud. `` What the hell am I going to tell his mom?'' he screamed. Gun still pointed at the other `` Travis''. He mind was racing a thousand miles a minute. He had just shot his best friend. All this back and fourth talk between the two. He had even quizzed them both. He was sure he had picked the clone. `` How could I not know I was being tricked?'' he whispered.
Thats when it happened, the ceiling exploded into a million tiny shards of glass. They were here, and they wanted their property back. He thought back to the day him and travis stumbled upon that little secret. He remember how they were going to change the world with it. He could n't help but to smirk. Back then they were so naive. So much time had past since then and everything that had come to light in their investigation. It was almost worth it. Just almost.
The ropes were slowly falling for Ben, when he decided to plug the trigger. He knew that in just moments there would be a small team surrounding them to recover the stolen property. He knew one bullet to this travis's head and everything they had come for would be gone. He wanted to make sure the they would pay for everything he had lost. CLICK. The round is sent spinning through the chamber of the.45. Sent on it destructive course for the hard bone and soft brain matter of this abomination. But the bullet never meets its target. Instead it is stopped just short. As it falls to the ground, he knows who is here. But there was no time left, so he turns and starts to run toward the car. `` They will come for me β he thinks to himself as he gets into the car. β But for now I will wait till that day comes β he says as he starts the car and lunges down the road and around the corner.
|
[ WP ] The U.S. gets hit by an unclear bomb . ( Yes , unclear )
| *4:45 AM*
By the time the last of the residents of Elm Drive had left his house in his bathrobe to join the hubbub in the street, the first of them to run outside yelling and dialing emergency services was unsure why exactly she'd felt it necessary to wake up at such an ungodly hour.
`` It's the funniest thing,'' Mrs. Ramirez was telling a small crowd of her neighbors. `` There must've been *something*, but I ca n't for the life of me remember...''
`` Of course there was something!'' cried Mr. Gaebler indignantly. `` I sat bolt upright in bed when --''
Funny, he'd known how he'd intended to finish that sentence when he'd started it. Ah well, old age was coming for everyone, he supposed. Better brush up up on his bridge game.
Tina clutched her protesting cat against her, weaving between clumps of baffled, murmuring adults. She did n't even *like* the cat, why had she felt such a visceral need to snatch her up and get out of the house? She had a history test in three hours, for chrisssakes.
She turned back towards her house, but was struck by the San Diego skyline, illuminated by the sunrise behind her and clearly visible from their affluent suburb on a hill. The familiar shape looked... off, today, somehow. She squinted, trying to identify the particular aspect of the view that rose goosebumps on her arms.
She was probably just cold. The air hung thick with a smell that she knew but could n't place, but she did n't care to. She just needed to go back inside, throw the goddamn cat somewhere before it clawed her face off, and try for another hour of sleep.
Five minutes later, the street was still and silent again.
Emergency call centers for several counties in the area reported a dramatic and unexplained spike in prank calls and false alarms in that hour. Suburbanites commuted into the city all that week for work, but invariably reported that they'd been sent home early. It would be some time before it became clear why they were shaking so badly when they said it.
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[ EU ] In the Toy Story world , you are one of the few toys that fall behind the shelves of a department stores and are stuck there for years until they are changed . What is your story ?
| It was- though of course, only at first- the worst thing ever. The others, from the shelf- they looked down and wondered- what would happen, if I could get back up somehow, there was a major commotion... at least, at first. I would wager it to have been mere days, no more than three, before it tapered off. The others still shouted down, of course, but I was soon forgotten. And since then.... nothing.
Not that I heard nothing.
That I was nothing.
If the regular brouhaha of the store; the workers' radios KSCH-ing and high-heeled foot falls KLOP KLOP KLOP KLOP, walking down the aisles. Spoil'd kids' anguished cries to their parents, demanding THAT toy TODAY, and then the screaming and the tears and the parents' forced submission- THIS was to be the glorious life of a toy, I wanted nothng of it.
But I'm nothing now.
Merely a forgotten item, lodged behind the yellowing beige metal of the shelves. A stolen toy with no thief. Sometimes, I fancy myself a collector. A collector of dust. And at one point, I'll have more of that than myself.
The workers call this place `` Kay Mart.'' I have no idea who Kay is, but if I see him in another time, I'll give him right what he deserves- a solid clock to the cheekbone. All of the toys are made by lowest bidder, and it's obvious. The fur on the plush animals always pulled off in your hand. Plastic mold lines were definite and pronounced. ( No wonder the lovely Strawbs across the aisle never gave me more of a passing glance. ) We sometimes barely stood up on our own. Children are BRUTAL on their playthings- one of many reasons I despise them- and we are not made for that abuse. We were n't manufactured for any good reason, merely to make someone veerryy thick in the back pocket and keep the irritating hellspawn at bay until dinner was prepared.
When I first fell, I faced up. I'm fairly cerain my eyes are totally shot by now; day after day of staring UP into the bright flourescent lights. I'm sure even Hell will be dimmer.
I woke up to a shudder one night, and I could n't see what happened until the next day; my box had flipped itself, so now I hung looking DOWN. I'm not sure which is worse, myself.
I can see a leg and an arm on the floor. They used to be attached to me.
The workers here are incompetant as all get-out. The crumbs, etc are just pushed behind the shelf. This rotting grape has been here for what feels like weeks. I'm sure it's alcoholic by now; at minimum fatally poisonous. How I'd like to devour it.
The saddest bit is my story does n't have an end. I am doomed to spend my days here, looking down, staring at a fuzzy fucking grape.
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[ WP ] There is a Universe where Time Travel is common , and open to all . Write an Educational Video for our kids who will one day be using it .
| Mrs. Kelderwax loaded a small drive into her desk, loading up the _Time Travel_ educational video for the second-graders. She hit a few buttons on the keyboard and dimmed the lights, a few of the children shouting in shock as one does when the lights are dimmed. Mrs. Kelderwax took a heavy swig out of her ceramic coffee cup ( filled mostly with Kahlua ). She leaned back in her chair and tried to stay just awake enough to make sure Timmy did n't try to get Samantha stuck in a rift portal again.
The projector on the ceiling buzzed, and then a hologram of the _Terrence the Time Traveler_ AI appeared in the center of the room. Mrs. Kelderwax's eyes drifted away from Timmy and over to Terrence's tight posterior.
`` Hello, children! I'm Terrence the Time Traveler! And I'm hear to tell you about...''
A digital clock, numbers flying by in a blur, appeared next to Terrence.
`` Time travel!''
There was a weak applause that exuded from the crowd of children. Mrs. Kelderwax sipped on her beverage.
`` Time travel has been around for quite some time! It was first invented in the 90s by Anna S. Belkin and her research team at MIT! As you all were taught in pre-school, you can create a rotating hyperbolic time curve at room temperature when applying Kerchov radiation using a geodesic array of palladium-hydride superconductors, but remember! I'm not here to teach you elementary physics, kids! I'm here to teach you about some of the responsibilities you'll need to know about before you reach the legal voting age! And I'm sure you all know what age that is, right kids?''
The children all groaned.
`` He sounds so... patronizing,'' Timmy mumbled to Samantha.
`` Tweeeeelve,'' they all moaned.
`` That's right!'' Terrence swung his fist `` Now let's get into the rules!'' he said, starting to pace.
`` One of the most important things you need to know about time travelling is that it's _okay_ to create an alternate timeline, so long as you stay within the legal limits as society dictates! First and foremost, when travelling to the past, you are not allowed to communicate with yourself in any way. You have what is referred to by law as an'implicit paradoxical restraining order,' and to violate it is a federal offense! You may think it would be important to go back and tell yourself the answers to next week's test, or not to invest anymore of that stock in Organic Foods --''
`` Or to call in sick and skip class today,'' said Erica.
`` Verrry funny! Ha!'' Terrence said with robotic enthusiasm.
`` As I was saying: as enticing as these scenarios are, you're not allowed to do them!''
Several minutes passed explaining the various types of litigation involved with time travel, and various people who are also included in the implicit paradoxical restraining order. The children were all struggling to keep their eyes open. Mrs. Kelderwax's eyes were locked on Terrences rear like a pair of lasers.
`` And before you get this time travel permit, you must first seek approval from the local town hall explaining the purpose of your _mission_. This is called your _mission statement_. This can be waived in the event of a tour, however, like to the popular'Pterodactyl Isles Tour.'''
Then there was a brief pause.
`` So that's a your brief guide to the wonderful world of time travel! It's nothing to be afraid of, as long as --''
Terrence's form buzzed out of existence, and the room lights turned back on. Mrs. Kelderwax stumbled back up to the front of the classroom to resume the lecture.
`` As you can see, the very idea of making time travel legal was ridiculous, kids. As soon as someone hacked the firmware on the machines disabling the limits, history plunged into chaos.'' She said, `` so tonight's assignment is to read over the case study of the alternate history of universe timeline 637-h''
`` The infinite heat-death singularity?'' Glenn shouted excitedly.
`` Yes, Glenn... That universe.'' Mrs. Kelderwax said. She then picked up her things and left the kids to their subliminal brain-inductor teaching helmets.
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[ WP ] People carry their personal Hells inside them . If they do n't keep it under control , it spills out into the nearby landscape as a real , physical place .
| It came as a surprise to everyone, something like a child's first lie. Innocent Jack, the perfect citizen - born and raised on righteousness, was malformed. Metamorphose, dread and blasphemy. It happened as he was walking there one day, trampling himself down to the shoe sole, imprisoned by all this introvert hatred, this most inner magma pool of self destruction layered as the rim of his life; yes, he a had stood there with the knife against his heart and whispered, plead to the hatred one last time, just to realize - he could be free, he could just let it go, release it and let it rip. Let the volcano erupt. A mushroom clouds deliverance. And just as intense as he had once wished for himself to burn he now wanted to set the world ablaze, see it all through a haze of black smoke and feel it running like peeled ash between his fingers. He wanted it all to be lost, that nothing would return or be remembered. He wanted to become death, the destroyer of worlds, so that he could bring the knife closer, convinced that it was the only right thing left to do.
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[ OT ] SatChat : What is a good first book to give a child to read ?
| Eulaliaaaa! Death's on the wind! Eulaliaaaa!
What's that you do n't know the war cry of the Hares of Salamandastron from the late Brian Jacques Redwall novels. How could a wholesome book series like this not be your favorite?
Rats of Nimh was also pretty good while we're talking about intelligent rodents. I would, however, not suggest Watership Down for children despite the talking animals.
I'm male.
My writing motivation is my friends, this community, and just loving the grind.
There's a good picture of me in the photo gallery: [ Photo Gallery ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/pics )
**I'm promoting your self promotion! ** If you have a vanity subreddit ( e.g. /r/SqueeWrites ), you can send us a mod mail and we'll happily make your vanity subreddit your flair!
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[ WP ] Give the real , untold story behind how Osama Bin Laden was killed by a woman and found dead by Seal Team Six .
| Not in second person, but here it is:
Hours had gone by before she dared to look back. The blisters on her blue feet were collecting small stones and filth as she scurried across the desert floor.
`` What have I done?'' she thought. She had left behind everything she had known, including her responsibilities as a mother.
`` Coward'' she cursed. `` Coward!'' She would have cried if she were not so afraid, ears ringing from the gunshots.
*Ruff ruff*
Those must be the dogs, she thought. They were only puppies when she first came to the house, and now here they were coming for her. She knew how fast they were, and she knew it was only a matter of time.
*Ruff ruff*
`` Coward!'' she continued to scream, the image of her crying children intoxicating her tortured mind. They'll be forced to watch her as she is being punished, as she dies.
She asked herself if it was worth it.
He was laying on the floor when she had left, covered in his own blood, killed by his own gun. She remembered how he groped her every night, and the nauseating smell of his sex as he forced himself on her. She had never tasted the cruelty of Allah's soldiers before she had met him. She did not know that great men could be exempted from the Holy rules.
*Ruff ruff*
The dogs were getting closer now. Her pace slowed as the pain from her raw feet began to sink its teeth in her, forcing her to stop and collapse to her knees. The tears had finally began to surface to her brown eyes as the anger faded, distorting the already obscure landscape in front of her. She looked up to the dark sky, capturing the swindles of lights that filled her watery eyelids. She closed her eyes.
God is watching me, she thought to herself, and God will punish me.
She heard the roar of his holy engine beginning to engulf her ears as he prepared to smite his sinful subject. She felt his breath grow more ferocious as the sands around her swirled. Her hand trembled as she felt his presence approach her.
She opened her eyes again, looking up into the starry sky to face her judge and creator, his glorious light blinding her sight. She shielded her eyes to capture a proper glimpse of this soaring black bird that engulfed her in Allah's light, her body shaking ferociously in awe.
Finally the tears from her eyes dried, and she caught the image of Allah's black wing. It bore the symbols: Ξ6.
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[ WP ] The earth is flat . Life and civilization is surrounded by an endless desert . Far in the distance , thousands of kilometers away , an obelisk can be seen with the naked eye . Since the dawn of man we have tried to reach it . You are the last survivor of your party when you reach it .
| Weakly, I raised my head from the ground. I opened my sand-encrusted eyes and looked right, only to behold the sight of sand. I turned my head slowly to the left, hoping beyond hope that I would see something, anything, that was n't sand. Alas, to my left stretched the sea of beige, unbroken. Slowly, I came to the realisation that I was actually buried in The fucking stuff from the neck down. Then I remembered the sandstorm. We had seen it coming miles off, but there was nowhere to hide, nowhere to run. There were five of us remaining at the time from the original twenty. Twenty men and women sent to follow the obelisk, and learn what secrets it held. We had found this dune, but it was n't steep nor tall enough to protect us. I suppose the other four were dead now. The sand was n't shifting. No movement. No life.
`` Where ith th wadder?'' I muttered to myself, my tongue thick and swollen from dehydration, mangling my words. I dug myself out from under the sand, and searched for my canteen. There it was, at my waist, but empty.
*I guess I've drank my last*. I thought to myself remorsefully. Shit, what would I not give for even a drop of water to soothe my cracking lips, and return the moisture to my aching tongue. *I suppose I might as well climb this dune, see what's around me, and where the obelisk is*
I was n't prepared for what I saw at the top of the dune. It was right there! Due west, maybe 2 hours of walking. If I only had some water, I could even make it there. All around me, maybe a few days distant, there were cities, massive skyscrapers broke through the endless blue.
*I have to make it* I thought. There may be people from the cities there! They could save me! I have to make it! I will run! I started running, but my weakened legs got ahead of me. I felt my left knee buckle and I collapsed, tumbling down to the foot of the dune.
When I looked right and then left, I saw sand. No cities, just the godforsaken sand. Hallucinations, all of it. The cities, the obelisk, I had dreamt it.
`` AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHHHHHHH!'' I screamed, pounding my fists on the coarse, pale sand. Then, I heard a shifting noise behind me. Slowly, I turned, only to behold the obelisk. Right there in front of me, not two hours off, but two minutes! I was there! I could see five men approaching, only to slowly fade and disappear as they came closer. But the obelisk remained. It was no illusion, not the obelisk. It was truly there.
I stumbled towards it, but once more, I collapsed. I tried to rise once, twice, thrice, but each time fell back down. I could n't find the strength. With the last fibre of strength I had left, I reached out my hand to the obelisk, and I begged to it.
`` Murthy, pleasss! Thpare me!''.
As I finished pleading for quarter, a scorpion arose from the sand. But that was impossible, nothing lived out here, man or beast. Just another illusion. I tried to reach for the scorpion, to see if it were truly there, but before I could so much as raise my hand from this cursed sand, everything faded to black. I embraced the blackness eagerly, it was much more welcoming than the beige.
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[ WP ] A billionare is brought back to life 6 hours after clinical death . He tells noone of what he saw while dead , but immediately isolates himself in his mansion and devotes his entire fortune into finding the key to immortality . A journalist has been sent to interview the man about his experience .
| Report by J. J - For internal communication only.
-So, Mr G. what compelled you on this search for the extension of life? What did you see while you were unconscious that changed so much your outlook on life?
Mr G < Staring at me with the look you get from someone who`s seen more than their share fair of things you don β t talk over dinner things, or maybe that sociopath on TV and maybe some creepy looking person in the subway? That doesn β t come close to what I saw when I looked at the eyes of the man in question. It didn β t have depth, because depth asks for a dimension, and that stare didn β t have any. Apart from that Mr G. seemed as harmless as any other kind old man you sometimes secretly wish was you grandpa β >
-Son, what really shocked me was not what I had seen, but exactly the opposite: what I had n't seen. Or might have seen. The thing is, I what I saw was the lack of what I expected and believed my whole life, and that was what scared me the most.
< i was prepared for this, and they wouldn β t had chosen me if they weren β t sure I was. I fumbled thought my papers in search for the right question, subfolders: Transcendence and Nothingness. So I, already loaded with questions and the sureness that I knew the answers, for that was also part the job of a journalist of my ability >
So Mr G, what exactly about this nothingness shocked you? Can you try to explain it?
-Hmm, Mr. Journalist, I do not think I made my point quite clear. When I said I said the lack of something it was the lack of memory, because after all our existences are based on memory, remembering and knowing. What I saw was the lack of memory. The only way I can explain it to you is as if it was infinitum, for it doesn β t have a start or end like we organic beings, and also unlike us it just is.
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[ WP ] You 're a genie . You feel guilty about how you interpreted that last wish you granted .
| `` Ah, so, you mean.... Like, your own, not...''
`` Not another person's son. Yes. I wanted my own son.'' The lady seemed quite angry standing there with a 7-year-old boy by her side.
`` It is just that you said `` a son'', you did not really specify...'' I tried to get out of this as situations like these are the exact reasons people distrust genies.
`` Yes! Because I was talking about a son that was not born yet!'' The lady was practically screaming as of now.
`` Hey, look on the bright side. This one's already done. It's a good son, lady. You do n't need to be pregnant or anything. Here you go - one good `` a'' son.'' I smiled. Really, all this with no added cost.
`` I can not send him back to his parents! He does n't even speak English...''
`` See? You just learn him to say `` momma'' and it will be a magical moment.'' I cheered.
`` God damn you, take this poor child back to his parents! He has been crying for 3 days now!'' she shoved the child forward and demanded I take action.
`` Uhhh, no ca n't do.'' I already knew what will follow...
`` Why not?'' She inquired just as expected.
`` Well he does n't exactly have parents as of now,'' I said, suddenly getting all defensive. `` Well not everyone on this world is an uncaring bastard that pushes her son away. Some parents really care for their children! You know, some good people have died for you to get this wish. Be more thankful.'' I hoped that this will be my last attack and she will step down.
`` Have... Died?'' she repeated with a slight hint of disbelief.
`` Well, DUH!'' I mimicked her facial expression. `` Why else do you think the kid has been crying for 3 days? Anyhow, I warned you that having a child is not like having a puppy. Big, big responsibility. Anyhow, I must be going now. Bye Linda, bye Tsingtao.''
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[ WP ] The bloodiest black Friday to ever occur happens . Millions are dead . The malls are bloodbaths . Tell me more about it .
| I lost my mother in the stampede. She was torn from my grasp and carried away in the flow of sweaty, mindless humanity. My nine year old mind could not process this and when I screamed my voice was drowned out by the mashing of feet and the grinding of flesh.
For a few moments I was lifted off my feet between three fat ladies and dragged around in kind of a sadistic tango, like those people on dancing with the stars.
I was carried to the toy isle and spun around in a three sixty then dropped to the floor. A large boot crunched over my hand. There was a sickening crackle as I saw my wrist bend in a way It never had before.
I pulled my arm to myself and looked in horror at my limp wrist and dangly fingers. For a few more moments, there was no pain. Until I got kicked in the shins, by a skinny teenager with brown baggy pants. He looked down with his glazed eyes that narrowed for a second as he stumbled around me. He mumbled something under his breath and then was gone in the sea of shoppers. Now my wrist and my ribs hurt, pain flared through my body and I screamed, it was all I could do.
The consumers rushed right on by. I tried to stand up by pushing up from the floor. My wrist bent backwards and my whole arm was slashed with pain. I used my legs and popped up, just in time to get bounced by a large belly with a shirt that said santa I've been good. Santa's face knocked me backward a few steps, but luckily I caught my balance at the last moment on an elderly man who was holding up better than I was, and I tried to fight the crowd towards the exit.
Being pushed and prodded and severely injured, and too short to see over the foaming masses, I somehow ended up deeper in the store. Lost in the underwear isle. Shelves were being ripped clean. A huge rufus erupted a few yards away, and a display with racks of pants and shoes was tipped over. Through the chaos I heard screams of agony and saw flashes of several people pinned under the large shelving units.
I could n't fight it, I had no control of where I went, and the crowd carried me closer to the accident. There was blood on the floor and a twitching black man's arm swatted my leg from under a massive beam-like shelf.
Thankfully, I was whisked away from the scene, and actually spotted a small break in the crowd, I ran through the opening, headed toward the big red exit sign that is only about thirty yards away, but suddenly my progress was halted by the closing in of human bodies. I'm stuck. A T.V. being carried smashed into my wrist and I was suddenly in tears from the pain, confusion and hysteria.
Suddenly a shotgun blast echoed across the store. Then another. The crowd was quieter for a moment, and the swarming buzzing slowed down and everything seemed almost still. For about half a second. Then the screaming started. I was pushed to the ground and a woman fell on top of me. People were stepping on both of us running for the exit, running for the back, running into each other in chaos. My wrist screamed in pain, my ribs were probably broken, and I was pinned under this woman who was now unconscious.
The last thing I saw was a boot coming down on my face.
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[ WP ] The day I left to war , she told me not to come back home .
| The day I left to war, she told me not to come back home. I'm sure she did n't mean it, but I pretend she did. It's been years since I'd heard from her, but that was likely because I've spent most of my time stuck in this desert shit-hole.
I remember it like yesterday though, I can still smell the vomit, laced with vodka. I remember the blood on her hands, as she screamed it was my fault. She screamed as she leaned over *our sons* limp body. I knew this was a lie too, but I pretend it was n't. The boy had emotional issues, and I tried to help him, but the bitch would never admit that.
I remember her father, at the funeral, the way the tears streamed from his face, as he quietly agreed with my now ex-wife, that it was in fact, my fault. I remember agreeing with him, and leaving when his wife told me I should n't be there. I remember all of these things, and I pretend they are true, though I know they are not.
I did n't feel a thing, when I shot that young arab boy. Even when I found out he was a civilian, I remember laughing with my men, it was a hell of a headshot. I do n't feel much of anything. When I pretend they were right, I finally feel. It gives me the fuel to keep going, and it's given me the passion I need. Look at me now. A hero, they call me.
I remember it like yesterday. It was the day I left home. No, it was the day I left for home.
Not a soldier, not even close, just inspired me to be... dark, I guess.
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[ WP ] Your ageing family dog walks up to you one day with a piece of paper in its mouth . Taking the paper , you notice that it is a bucket list .
| 'He's been collecting paper scraps all week. just brings them to his old puppy bed and lays them there like he's building a nest.'' Caroline looks over to Geoffrey. `` You think his age finally caught up with him?''
`` If you're asking if I think Heimdall is losing his mind, the answer is no.'' Geoffrey answers. `` If he's collecting scraps, there has to be a good reason. Take him out for a walk, Caroline. I'm going to go see.''
`` You're putting too much faith in an animal that still gets frightened by cats, despite being four times their size.'' Caroline shrugs. `` Heimdall, here boy!'' The old mastiff waddles over to Caroline, holding his leash in his mouth as he had been trained to do. `` Come on, boy, let's go to the park.'' The spark in the old dog's eyes came back, burning brighter than any star in the sky and his tail thumps against the wood of the doorjamb.
Caroline clicks the leash onto his collar, grabs some plastic baggies and heads out the door for a long, slow hike.
Geoffrey waited until they were gone. He had his suspicions about the dog, since Heimdall brought him a picture of a rainbow over their national forest. Something about that simple act had made him wait until a rain and he brought Heimdall to the forest to watch the rainbows. Heimdall was thrilled. That bright-eyed spark of life was back.
So now, he's digging through the puppy bed and finding a few things of interest.
There's a picture of a fine dining restaurant's platter of Steak Diane. Heimdall loves steak and mushrooms.
The second picture is of a tennis ball launcher on a clay court.
The last picture is of a owner hugging his dog while the dog plays with a teddy bear.
Geoffrey gets it. It's a list of things his dog wants to do. Heimdall's greatest desires. His old mastiff wants one last bit of fun.
There's no order here, so Geoffrey calls up the nearest tennis club and asks if he can bring his dog down to play. The clerk says it's fine as long as he cleans up afterward. That's not going to be a problem.
He downloads a recipes for Steak Diane and gets the ingredients together, as Caroline and Heimdall return.
`` Did you know your dog still thinks he can chase rabbits? He got winded after twenty yards and the bunny escaped.'' She sighs. `` What are you up to?''
`` Just doing something nice for Heimdall. You'll see.'' Geoffrey kneels down next to his best four-legged friend and rubs his head, whispering `` Message received.'' in those big ears. Once again, it seems like Heimdall understands. The dog retreats to his own bed for a short nap.
While he sleeps, Geoffrey explains to Caroline what he found.
`` You love your dog so much. I guess that's one of the many reasons I love you.'' Caroline gives him a quick kiss. `` I'll make the dinner. Go have fun with your doofy dog.''
When Heimdall wakes, Geoffrey herds him into the car for the first stop on this bucket list tour. Heimdall immediately brightens up at the sight of the ball launcher. For a dog of his years, only the lowest setting can be used. True, Heimdall misses more balls than he catches, but he brings all the balls back to Geoffrey eventually. The loving licks across his face tell Geoffrey that this is the right thing to do.
When they get home, Caroline has prepared the meal. A plate for her and Geoffrey and a bowlful of steak with cognac and mushrooms for Heimdall. For the first time in a long time, Heimdall eats like a king.
Geoffrey shakes the teddy bear with the little bell in it to bring Heimdall to him. Heimdall trots over, tired from the playing, full from the dinner and extremely happy. His tail wags slowly as Geoffrey places the teddy bear between his paws.
Geoffrey leans down, listening to Heimdall's breathing, never once moving from that position. The old dog looks up with a goofy grin and bright eyes, and in that moment, he breathes his last.
`` Thank you, Heimdall. Thank you for thirteen great years.'' Geoffrey whispers, checking one last time for signs of life.
`` Caroline, he's gone.'' Geoffrey says, looking up at his wife.
`` Why are n't you sad?'' she asks, offering him a hand so he can stand up off the dog mat.
`` Because aside from you, Heimdall was my best friend. I'm happy that I got to give him what he wished for.''
Caroline turns off the lights. `` We'll bury him in an hour, Geoffrey. If you need to talk about it, I'm always here for you.''
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[ WP ] The source of Modor the Destructor 's power is an inquisitive 2 year old . Modor is n't sure it 's worth it .
| He injected the sleeping two year old again - better safe than sorry. He did n't want the little one waking up.
Or crying.
Not one little bit.
He'd lose his powers if that happened. Curse those capes! Those meddling do-gooders. They could do nothing right. Even, this fool -- This fool stupidity of a punishment! It was a useless punishment. Pointless! Was he not Mordor the Destructor still? Did he not lead the Brimstone Council still?
His fists clenched with rage. Then, with a snort, he strapped the child onto his back.
In his lair it was a near-meaningless gesture; the child was n't going anywhere. He'd taken the child's feet and then it's hands to ensure that.
Still-
A single red beam flew.
All was night.
With dimming eyes he looked up at his attacker.
Ulan?
Why would the Brotherhood of Evil attack him? This would mean war.
`` Why?'' he croaked.
`` My son,'' Ulan answered.
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[ WP ] A person , worn out by society , retreats from it .
| I'm tired.
Physically drained, mentally exhausted, spiritually bereft and otherwise kaput.
Why am I so thoroughly wiped? I'm wiped because I *care* too damned much.
Who do I blame for my current situation? Not that it matters really, but I blame humanity.
That's right. I blame the entire race of men for my exhaustion. I blame you upright, sentient apes for the hopeless feeling that's been giving me nightmares on good nights, worry filled insomnia on bad nights and a panic fueled gnawing in my gut for the past 12 years.
Why? Because you never *learn*! You ***never*** have and you ***never*** will!!
I'm tired and I'm done. I've had it with everyone of you.
As of this moment, I am leaving every thing behind. Every Starbucks, iPhone, Wi-Fi, all of it. **D-O-N-E** **Done! **
I am past caring about the partisan politics, I do n't care about reality television, and I could give a sunny shit about A-D list celebs and who they're boning!
I am walking away from my lame job, my shit hole apartment, and my safe-for-the-environment-but-cost-me-out-the-ass-smart car. I'm taking what I had in my bank account and charting a course to somewhere where I can not be bothered by ***ANY*** of you self absorbed ass hats.
Maybe then, I'll be able to sleep without worrying about how we're glossing over curing Cancer, A.I.D.S. or whatever new disease comes along and, instead, we're focusing on developing new and exciting ways to wipe each other out.
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[ WP ] Santa Claus ' Naughty List lists criminals instead of bad children . Instead of bringing coal , he brings vigilante justice .
| Joe had had enough of Karen's shit.
Karen looked around frantically for somewhere to hide.
`` Kids, get in the pantry,'' she said in a quavering tone.
Davis and Cameron were n't fast enough. They watched as their mother's jaw was broken by an ex-marine they called `` Dad''. Blood and teeth hit the floor before she did.
Suddenly, something crashed through the window above the sink, and landed on the kitchen island. It was a large candy cane. It popped off just below the curved part. Joe, who was already stunned by what he had just done to his wife and mortified by the blood spattered faces of his adopted children, looked at the tube with mortal fear in his eyes. The kids, who had been staring at their mother quietly, walked into the pantry and closed the door.
Joe picked up the hollow candy cane and turned it upside down. A small scroll fell out, which he unrolled with shaky hands.
`` *I'm making a list and checking it twice. *
*I always find out who's naughty and nice. `` *
Joe shuddered with the sudden realization that his life would be over soon. He shook out the rest of the cane's contents. A lumpy Christmas present.
*'' To: Joey*
*From: Santa'' *
Joe ripped it open. Inside was his stocking from when he was a child. Coal spilled out onto the torn wrapping paper. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as the stocking burst into flames and churning black smoke filled the kitchen.
`` Kids.. Stay in the pantry.''
He stepped over Karen's wasted frame. Her jaw was disfigured and her open mouth was leaking blood. Her eyes were still open.
The sound was faint at first, then began to grow louder and louder.
*'Jingle jingle jingle... Jingle jingle jingle...'*
There was a shotgun above the mantel. He made his way into the living room...
*'JINGLE JINGLE JINGLE JINGLE JINGLE'*
But it was too late.
***CRASH!!! ***
Through the window looking out to the street to the left of the fireplace crashed the first reindeer, and seven more came a hundredth of a second later, knocking over furniture and bits of the wall along the way. They filed into the hallway at immense speed, staring at Joe with glowing red eyes that would light the darkest night.
***BOOM***
Santa's sleigh crumbled his living room wall. An out of tune guitar he got for Christmas on his 7th birthday was knocked over and crushed within a second, making a terrible sound.
There he was. A formidable man with a long beard, wearing red and white. Liam Neeson, who had taken the throne of Santa Claus one year prior, reached into his never ending sack and pulled out an AK-47. The last thing Joe heard before joining his wife in a pool of blood on the ground was,
*'' You're on the naughty list. `` *
***KA-KA-KA-KA-KA-KA-KA-KA***
Bullets tore through Joe, making holes like Swiss cheese. Nick knacks and dishes exploded in the kitchen behind him as he fell unceremoniously next to his wife and gazed into her cold, lifeless eyes, his vision fading slowly to black.
*'' Ho. Ho. Ho. *''
Edit: used the same word twice in two sentences.. oops.
|
[ WP ] Every person is born with a timer on their wrist that counts down to when the person meets their soulmate
| 0:28, it was stuck on 28 seconds.
It was a strange coincidence, he was born on the 28th, but he could n't even remember that right now. He had been waiting for this for some time now, a long time. The rest of the world was just passing by in a blur, when he first sat down on the bench. He tried to pay attention at first, observing who it could or could n't be. He told himself he would n't discriminate. He wanted to keep race, age and gender out of it. What would be, would be.
Then in the blur of the crowd, he saw her. She was beautiful, in the truest sense of the word, she made the ages of waiting worth it. And she edged closer to him, time seemed to stop, as if Kronos himself was sending a sign. She looked up and met his eyes, and she smiled. That smile, he would soon cherish.
On his wrist, still 0:28.
He did n't care, it had to be her. Who said these things worked anyway? There were stories, rumours really, that people had forsaken the advice of the devices, and still found happiness. This was his chance. All his life he had followed, taking conventions from society as gospel. He had one shot, and he could n't miss it.
He rose from the seat, but just as he did, he saw it coming. The car burst through his bubble, taking her with it. He froze.
He glanced at his timer.
0:00.
|
[ WP ] You are the antagonist in a story . You think . You really are n't sure anymore after what the protagonist did .
| **Audio recordings found in the embers of Dr. Kook's evil lair. **
*gunshot*
`` Okay, what the fuck?''
`` What?''
`` You shot my evil sidekick.''.
`` He had a gun.''
`` A confusion Ray! It would have made you dizzy.''
`` Self defense.''
`` What?''
`` I shot him in self defense.''
`` You're not even bothered that you just killed another human being? His name was Jeff. He had a life, a fiancΓ©. I had dinner with them last week. He was just helping me because he needed something on his resume. Holy shit man.''
`` He was evil, like you. I show no pity for those who seek to harm others.''
`` Harm others? I built a giant magnet that stole everyone's spare change in town. The most it would have done was harm their piggy banks.''
`` Stealing is stealing.''
`` Know what? Fuck this, arrest me, take me in. I'm going to tell the world what you did.''
`` No you are n't.''
`` Excuse me? Wait drop the gun. Do n't do anything rash. *No-*.''
*gunshot*
|
Subsets and Splits