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[ IP ] Dreamers
| `` What are all those lights, mommy?'' Mercy asked. She held on to her mother's hand.
`` Sixty years ago, they were stars. I do n't really know what they are now. Most of them are satellites, I think. A few of them are space stations. You see the ones moving over there. The quick ones. They're part of the security grid. They protect us from the Lunarians.'' She said, taking a seat in the sand beside her daughter.
`` What are Lunarians?'' Mercy asked, squinting one eye closed as she considered the term.
`` They're the men and women living on the moon. Two hundred years ago, scientist created cities on the moon to serve as labs.'' She explained. `` Now, they want to destroy us.''
`` Are they bad people, mommy?'' Mercy asked, staring with wide-eye wonder at the sparkling panoramic view above the sea.
`` I want to say yes, but the truth is, they're just scientist. They want to learn. There were us who wanted to stay behind when NASA started colonizing. We want to keep Earth intact. They want to blow it up, and everyone on it.''
`` So, they're bad?'' Mercy said, phrasing it as a question, but really just looking for comformation.
`` They're bad, baby. They hollowed out the moon. See the moon over there?'' She asked.
`` I see it, mommy.'' Mercy crowed, pointing a crooked finger at the bright silver orb on the horizon.
`` It's not a moon anymore. The Lunarians have turned it into a space station. They made it so it can travel through space. The only problem is, they need to destroy Earth to break it free. The military built the security grid around the planet to protect our satellites and communications from the Lunarians. They ca n't come home ever again.'' She said with a sad smirk.
`` Ca n't they just say they're sorry?'' Mercy asked. Her mother kissed her brow.
`` If only it were that easy, sweetheart.'' She said. She looked up and felt a dismal dread. She had never wanted to travel into space, but just knowing that grid was there made her feel trapped. Knowing you're in a cage is probably worse then living in one.
`` I do n't like it, mommy.'' Mercy told her with a frown. `` We should all be friends.'' She kissed her daughters brow again.
`` I love how you think.'' She whispered, tickling her daughter to make her smile.
`` Look, mommy. A falling star.'' Mercy shouted, coming to her feet.
`` OH MY GOD!'' Mercy's mother screamed, hugging her daughter in fear. She watched the security grid light up. She watched the flares of exploding rockets on the horizon as the security grid destroyed them, but it was n't those that filled her with dread. It was the slow streaking arc of the rocket that made it through. The rocket descending toward them.
`` Look, Mommy. It's coming over here. Can I catch it?'' Mercy pleaded.
She hugged her daughter close and shielded her from the explosion she knew was about to take place.
`` I love you, sweety.'' She whispered into her daughter's ear.
`` I love you too, m --'' She never got finish.
|
[ WP ] There are many types of Mages in the world . Fire , Ice , Wind , Water , Death , Darkness , to name a few . But in this world , every type of mage is treated as equal . Everyone can be a good guy , no matter how dark your power . And anyone could be a bad guy , no matter how beautiful their ability ...
| The master stood in a black robe, dark winds blowing through the street. Dark mana was giving their hands an ethereal quality. They knew who it was. The master of the dark keep, the ruler of the land. As she walked through the streets the air became cool, itchy. Her reputation proceeded her through dozens of cities, and they all knew what terrors would come forth from her hands.
Everyone smiled. The fervor rose throughout the whole city as they all began to feel the itchy tingle of the dark, the manipulative energy surrounding the master. Everyone cheered.
For beyond the edge of the city, upon a hill, was their opponent. Though it was noon, behind their enemy was a light as bright as the sun. From his footsteps rose flowers and the grass of life. The mana that grew a halo around him, an aura of every color of the rainbow, shined upon his elvish features. This was the usurper.
And city after city fell before him. Armies fell. Wizards fell. The city of Almorath was now a flooded fortress inhabited by sentient trees and rotting corpses. The city of Korin-Awar was the burial ground of vines, choking the life out of farmers. The beautiful crystal city of Yuli was crushed, the sparkles now covered by the petals of roses and lillies. These cities were all manned by powerful wizards. The battles were long, but very few survived such an onslought. The usurper, the conquerer, the beautiful elf killed not hundreds, but thousands. Thousands upon thousands. His life magic left no prisoners, and it left nothing ever created by the hands of a rival.
The majority of the survivors left for the necromancers keep. She was a prodigy, creating ghosts and shades when she was barely an apprentice. She was young, stout, short. When she was barely 20, the master ritual of dark masters was done in the public square - where she sucked the lifeforce from her master, absorbing the previous masters connection the the dark realm. She, alone, would be their savior.
And they cheered. And they hoped. And in the quiet, in the dark, in the scared buildings on the edge of the city they prepared to leave. For the beautiful one, who brought rainbows and death wherever he walked, came forth. None, they thought, could stop the monster. Not even their hero.
-- -- -
I'm motivated, so look forward to a continuation - to the battle!
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[ WP ] Describe your descent into Hell
| I always thought red was such a pretty colour. Even as it gushes out of me, I ca n't help but admire the shade. Blood pooling around my body I become aware of the smell, it's like meat at the store. At least in a store it's refrigerated, my body heat intensifies the hot iron smell. It's cold, It's dark, I want to sleep.
I'm falling backwards, the air is rushing past me and then I notice the walls. They're trying to reach out but they're all so badly decomposed. Flesh drips from their hands, organs dangle from various bones and their eyes. What's wrong with their eyes? My screams echo past me, bouncing off the walls and overlapping until it imitates the sound of torture. I will never stop falling. I will never see anything but melting corpses crying out. I have gone to hell.
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[ WP ] Write a story that begins and ends with the same sentence in a way that it takes on a whole new meaning the second time .
| The crows circled overhead.
They were pests around these parts, having long since learned the trick behind the scarecrows, and keeping them out of the wheat and corn fields was a chore all on its own. Papa always seemed to have some new idea, but the hope that his daughter would prove just as resourceful died with him.
That old yellow dog did n't help at all either - his tired bones could n't keep up with those miniature buzzards - but his bark was always a reliable warning signal that someone was approaching. I watched the truck come down the dirt path onto my property; it must have been that man Miss Gertude was talking about sending my way. We're a decent distance off the beaten path, so it made sense only someone with directions could find their way here.
The man who climbed out of the truck was surprisingly young, with a neatly trimmed beard and strong arms that caught my eye as he pulled out his toolbox.
`` I hear you're going to set me up with one of those animatronic scarecrows. Those winged rats are gettin' on my last nerve.''
He smiled a dazzling smile. `` We'll get rid of your troubles, do n't you worry, miss.''
I led him into the cornfield where the scarecrow stood. `` Now I do n't fancy putting a generator out here that'll be clattering all day long. Is there some way to make it a quiet scarecrow that moves?''
`` I do n't know.'' He replied, a bit flatly.
I turned to regard him. `` Well you're supposed to be the expert here. Are n't you?''
`` No.''
His toolbox crushed my skull as easily as I could crush a tomato. Old Yellow barked his complaint from the porch.
The crows circled overhead.
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[ WP ] `` I 'm not scared of you ! ''
| Claw scratches are left on the inside of the tiny viewing window which was in the top of the door. The sound of a miniature window breaking was surprisingly quiet, stress on the glass then fragments tinkling on the tiled treatment room floor. Nothing compared to my screech:
“ I ’ m not scared of you! ”
My ringing voice echoes through the halls of the hospital, disturbing no one normal, I ’ m sure. The darkness of an 11pm winters night makes it a spooky side. If I yelled a second time, then that stern veteran of a nurse would come and shut me up. I know it.
But, it may help to see another person, since I know I am delusional, could an interaction with reality help?
I have to face my fears.
When I first felt weak and nauseous and not all right, I was worried, anxious and obsessed over it. When it came into the light, obviously cancer, though a battery of tests was required. I took it in stride, I was diligent in hiding my fears from family and taking all the visits and performances from others in stride, as well as I possibly could. I ’ m gon na be a survivor.
But the hideous form I saw pass my door? That broke my window? What could it be? I know it ’ s a monster. What do I do though? Blood pressure through the roof, drugs racing through me, all part of treatment that makes me weaker, but not crazy. It ’ s in my lungs, not my head, I have the documented proof for goodness ’ sake.
I throw off the covers of the itchy sterilized bed sheet and stand, I am in just my robe from home, better than the hospital gown.
As I inch to the door, I find I can ’ t even look much out the window, I just see the door to another ward straight across, and its dark in the hall. Mustering all my courage I tentatively open the door, ready to pull it shut straight away. ( It doesn ’ t have a lock, why doesn ’ t it have a lock? )
I walk in the direction that I think it went. I have nothing else but my slippers.
I absently grab a random standing drip pole, intravenous thing.
My stare is focused on the end of the hall. Instead of a normal hospital corridor it looks like an open black space, almost like a portal but I see no edges. I realize that the shadow monster is standing next to it, in the darkness.
I pick up speed, trailing the pole.
It looks like the monster is beckoning with some long talon hand, the one that broke my window. Its dark claw lifts and extends behind it, readying to slash me to ribbons. There is a pull towards ending it all.
I start screaming, “ I ’ m not coming with you, I ’ m not going, I ’ m not scared! ”
There is no face on the monster, within a few feet of the end of the world I swing with the pole and catch its middle, the recoil is fierce and the monster is forced back.
Whether it ’ s the adrenaline or the fear, I don ’ t know, but I keep beating it, beating the pole against whatever resistance I can find in the pitch black delusion.
Suddenly it is only the night and its dimness that I am seeing, and not the end of an abyss. I forced it out, somehow. The intravenous device is ruined, and I toss it onto the floor. Nothing else is disturbed, except for my brain and my shaking body.
Back in bed I know I won ’ t sleep all night, that ’ s not good for the recovery, not good for the tests and nurses, but I did something to save myself, maybe one day I'll sleep again. The battle with cancer is going on no matter what, so let whatever monsters come after me.
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[ WP ] You 've barely survived a car accident with your legs mangled . A renowned doctor comes to you with a proposal to replace your legs with arms from a late donor in a similar accident to create the first 4 armed person .
|
The doctor stumbled his way in and dropped his clipboard. Picking it up and holding it upside down, the man quickly tried to scan the paper and look intelligent, perhaps to save face, before glancing over the state of my injuries. He spoke with a excited accent. `` Hi, Everybody! We's gon na see what we can do about them ahms.'' He peered over at my shoulder sockets and scratched at his fuzzy chin.
`` Okay! How would you like to have two arms?'' He asked, pointing his pen into his chin.
`` I... yes, I'd like my arms back.'' I responded.
`` Okay! What about four?''
`` Are you a real doctor..?''
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[ WP ] Three people meet at the entrance to heaven . One is meant to enter , one is supposed to go to hell , and the third is not listed .
| They stood there waiting in anticipation. Well, one of them was.
`` I should n't be in Hell! Surely this is wrong! God damn this place'' said the'bad' man
`` Well that was a mistake''
`` Easier for you to say, you're going to Heaven for nothing''
`` Actually I donated 95 % of my salary to charity which helped millions''
`` Oh. That's probably why I'm going to Hell. I guess only the rich go to Heaven'' The other man pondered this.
At that moment a black portal opened and sucked him into Hell before the'good' man could retort. He turned to the other one who had n't spoke yet.
`` So where are you going?''
`` I'm neither coming and going'' The'good' man was flabbergasted `` How do you mean? You must go somewhere. Heaven or Hell?''
`` But I'm not a Christian.''
`` Ah. Strange you're here then''
`` Yep''
A golden elevator came down and the'good' man stepped on it without saying goodbye. The last man was alone.
`` Now what?'' He thought to himself. Forever.
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[ WP ] PVP has been turned off for years . Everyone now knows , that no blade can pierce the skin with the INTENT to kill or harm . You are at the doctor getting a shot when the needle bends upon touching your upper arm ...
| Many ancient scholars speculated that *if* the universe is a computer program, life should never, under any circumstances, know this fact, for *if* it ever figured it out, modern civilization would instantly crumble. Of course, those scholars never went a step ahead to see the ultimate truth; That *if* the universe is a computer program, the only reasonable explanation for its existence would be that it is a videogame. This is why, when Alexander Wilfery conquered the world as the first emperor of a unified humanity, the first thing he did was turn off the PvP. No more murder, no more wars, and no more boxing matches, because honestly, those *'matches'* were only rigged events organized for the singular purpose of betting.
Alexander Wilfery was a polarizing figure on Earth... to say the least. Some would argue that he was a tyrant, imposing his will unto humanity without the right to do so. Others would argue that being the only human with access to the source code technically granted him the right to do as he pleased. A third, small, but vocal group of people would say:
`` Yes, okay, he can do whatever he wants, but why'd he have to take our boxing?''
His actions definitely influenced history for centuries to come, shifting the economy from one of service labor to a flourishing utopia of science and arts. One profession in particular, assassination, thrived in this new world due to its rare and difficult nature. Turning off the PvP did n't make humans immortal, only harder to kill. Now, instead of letting the thrilling anticipation of murder overtake them, assassins had to be trained from birth to repress their intent. Fortunately for the old families that already practiced the art of killing, this came extremely easy, since they already implemented this in their training. Unfortunately for Alexander Wilfery, the nurse administering his flu-shot was one of said assassins.
Sitting atop the doctor's table, Alexander slouched and pouted. He was n't afraid of shots, he just was n't a fan of them. His hands were n't shaking out of nervousness, they were just shaking out of exasperation... or boredom. When the nurse flicked the needle with her finger, he did n't gulp because the purple liquid seemed menacing, he gulped because his throat was dry.
`` Lord Emperor...'' said the nurse, `` you seem on edge right now. Is something bothering you?''
`` N-no, I'm just stressed from all the things I have to do this afternoon.'' He extended his arm. `` Please, lets get on with this.''
`` As you wish, my lord.''
The nurse grabbed Alexander's wrist and placed the needle on his skin, right before Alexander squealed and pulled his arm away. The woman's eyes widened with fear, backing away from the Emperor a few steps. She then said:
`` Did I do something wrong?!? How did you kno-''
`` No, no!'' Alexander waved his hands in denial. `` Forgive me, nurse, it was instinct. You did n't say you were inserting the needle, so it startled me.''
The nurse fixed her shirt and said:
`` Okay, Lord Emperor. This time, I'll warn you right before I do it.''
Alexander nodded and the nurse grabbed his arm again. She then moved the needle slowly towards his vein, warning him once it was near, only to have Alexander push her away. The nurse's mouth gaped open, staring at the needle in her hand and back at a sheepish Alexander Wilfery.
`` Listen,'' said Alexander, `` you're gon na have to stab me with it, okay?''
`` Oka- wait, what?''
`` You'll have to force the shot unto me. My rational mind knows it ca n't harm me, but my body just wo n't let it enter. I'm sorry, I know this is strange, but can you oblige this strange request?''
The nurse grinned and dashed at Alexander, who dodged her by rolling away. She then leaped at him, doing a stabbing motion with the syringe five times, though Alexander evaded all of them fluidly. The nurse, breathing heavily, finally wrestled Alexander to the ground and, laughing maniacally, manged to connect with the needle. Afterwards, her laughter faded into a worried sigh. The needle was bent. It did n't pierce Alexander's skin. The Emperor quickly called for his guards, who flooded the room before the assassin could get away. Restraining her from behind, they inspected her and found a golden necklace of two fighting gloves.
`` The Boxing Federation...'' said Alexander. `` So they finally made their move, huh?''
From this point on, assassination attempts on Alexander's life would become a rare occurrence. Everyone thought he was an omnipotent being, capable of sensing even the slightest of intents. His rule would go on for centuries, and his empire would last for thousands of years more. Of course, no one would dare to think that all of this fame only came to him because of his crippling fear of needles.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
> If you enjoyed this, you can check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories!
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[ PI ] You are an immortal serial killer . You were caught and sentenced to life in prison . The prison is starting to get suspicious of why you wo n't age .
| I do n't remember the last time I saw the sun. Do n't know when I'll get to. All I know is that until I find a way out.. I'm stuck here. They already started to notice that I'm not aging, in fact they started noticing a **long** time ago. They started to send in scientists, but after I snapped the first fews necks, well.. let's say they did n't send in any more lab rats. They tried putting me in the chair, that did n't work, but do n't get me wrong it still hurt, it hurt a lot. Electricity flying through every joint in your body, frying your cells, and your head. Only to wake up moments later completely fine. The worst part of this all is the insatiable lust to kill. It's like a personal tick, everyday I do n't take care of it, it gets worse. I've started to mutilate myself, tearing off fingers, feet, anything to see the dark elixir flow. They finally put me in solitude after the body parts started to pile up, not like that's gon na do anything. What I learned is that if I do n't deal with the tick, more ticks follow. Twitching, twisting, turning, **yelling**, **screaming**, anything to not hear the blood flowing in my veins *begging* me to let it run. After 10 years of solitude, my mind broke, too many ticks, too many voices. I sat still for the first time, staring at the blank wall, not having a single thought. I did n't think about killing, I did n't think about the oozing of an open wound. I thought nothing, and though my body remained, my mind had left.
Even immortal men may die, if not body, then mind.
Fin
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[ WP ] The last man alive is desperately trying to prevent the extinction of mankind via timetravel , but he 's having a hard time pinpointing when exactly everything started going wrong .
| The air was heavy and foul. An unnatural stink that permeated the whole room, that seemed to emanate from every object. It overwhelmed and consumed all the synthetic and sterilized smells you would expect from a laboratory. It was enough to make anyone not used to it retch. And most times it was enough even for someone who is. Reed was getting used to it, but still he couldn ’ t help it. He stood next to the machine, leaning on the desk and it letting all out on the pristine white floor.
He opened the windows and grabbed a lungful of fresh air. As fresh as can be at the wreckage of a city filled with nothing but corpses. This smell Reed had already become used to. What a sad state of affairs, he reflected. But it actually made sense. Human death, after all, is more commonplace, and more natural, than time travel.
As he regained his senses proper and leaned back on a chair, it dawned on him. It did not work. As the empty streets outside testified, as the smell of corpses should have made obvious, it did not work. The head of a rebel state and catalyst to the second most devastating war humankind had ever seen, killed as a baby, and still the nukes had launched.
Anthony Reed was still the only human left alive on Mars.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
He went back to the drawing board. If preventing the greatest dictator Mars had ever seen from living past his sixth month couldn ’ t stop the war, what could? Maybe preventing the rebel party from ever coming into existence? But how would he accomplish that, how do you kill an idea? Bronn hadn ’ t been the only one with rebel ideals, the only one who wanted to turn a world into their image through military might. He had simply been the one with the most power and influence among them. He had been the tip of the iceberg, and Reed had merely shaved it off. He needed to think bigger.
The second Martian World War had been the result of limited resources. Mankind had done their best in terraforming and efficiently colonizing Mars, but the planet had limitations. It always would have, and humanity's needs would only increase as both population and standards increased. Mars was a doomed project, a bad idea. A flawed solution to the real problem – the loss of earth to the machines.
Reed pulled out the holofiles about the old world. They contained all the knowledge the human race had amassed during their stay on earth. The machine could displace you in space as well as time, but it needed an exact location and has range limitations. Reed input the intended geotemporal coordinates and calculated the next time the old world would be close enough to Mars to be in the machines Spatial range. Two weeks.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
This time he had chosen his target to be ten years old. Harder on the boy, on his family and, by this age, his friends aswell… but easier on Reed. Murdering a baby had not been easy. But to his dismay, neither had been murdering a ten year old boy.
Reed wanted to explore this old world, this fabled Earth. With blue skies and green fields, it was such a strange place. But his desire to see the human race saved from annihilation was stronger than his whims. The creator of the murderous artificial intelligence that deemed the best path to world peace to be the extermination of the human race was a limp bloody mass in his arms. He placed the boy down and set the device on his wrist to pull himself back in the time axis alone, to the anchor he had created before departure, then sealed his exoskeleton suit. When traveling through time it was hard to guess the conditions in which the destination point was in. The exosuit protected its contents from almost everything the universe could throw at it.
When he arrived he thought he might have accidentally pulled himself back through space as well and was back in a nuclear wasteland Mars. But that wouldn ’ t make sense, without the AI revolution humanity would never even need to leave their perfect planet. No, this was earth… A nuclear ravaged earth. Without a superior enemy to decimate them, humanity had decimated itself. Even with a planet capable of producing all the resources it could ever need, humanity had exterminated themselves. Why?
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Bronn. Urza. Janos. Hypertron. Kim Jong-Un. Hitler. Genghis Khan. Anthony Reed had killed them all and more in their youth. The result was always and invariably the same. Humanity self-destruct. Reed was left depressed and disgusted. He travelled back to a time when humanity didn ’ t yet exist and disengaged his exosuit helmet. The stink of time travel hit his nostrils, but Reed didn ’ t flinch. Nothing could disgust him more than his own humanity then.
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[ WP ] Turn your fondest memory into a nightmare .
| **Sunday Morning** [ Slightly NSFW ]
Her soft brown hair smells wonderful with her head resting on your shoulders. She is comfortably asleep in your arms as the sun toast the sheets and the cool breeze accentuates her lovely fragrance. Her arm rest gently across your chest and warm to the touch. She wraps on of her smooth legs around you and drags herself a little closer. There are few moments in life that can compare when a man realizes how lucky he is to be lying in bed with the woman he loves in his arms. She slowly opens her big beautiful brown eyes and smiles at the first sight of you.
You smile back and whispers to her, `` Good morning, sunshine''.
Hiding her blush behind the sheets she looks up and says, `` I love it when you call me that''.
You've been together for a few years already and still smile like fools when you see each other. It's not very traditional but the girl decides to make the first move then and there to take it to the next step. She's been planning for this day for months. Going over and over in her head about the details of how she is going to go about it. This just seems like a perfect moment for her. She leans to the side to take something out of the drawer. You have no idea what's going to happen next. She is excited and very nervous. But has no doubt in her mind that it's what she wants to do.
`` Babe, close your eyes'', she says.
You smile softly and complies not expecting what's going to come next.
With one sharp snap, she cuts off, your manhood with a large pair of scissor. You look down and it's no longer there but instead replaced with blood and empty space. You scream in horror and pain as you jump back from the blood soaked sheets. She looks at you menacingly, completely satisfied with the results. You back away in terror; confused and pale. Slowly things turn black and you begin to faint. With your penis in her hand, she lies back in bed, rolling around in inexplicable bliss.
Edit: this is probably the most disturbing thing I've ever written.
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[ WP ] I 'm looking for a webcomic writer . If you 're interested , write a short story based on one of the following unfinished comic strips .
| Sorry to be so dour, but I had to write something for that first 3-panel:
[ 1 ]
Character 1 - What do you think the fences on the roof are for?
Character 2 - Stop people from falling, or suicide I suppose.
[ 2 ]
Character 1 - Would a fence really stop someone bent on killing themselves?
Character 2 - No, maybe get'em to use a different building though. They just do n't want it to be their problem to deal with.
[ 3 ] Character 2 has walked off screen
Character 1 - Maybe if someone did, they would n't need the fences anymore...
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[ WP ] Make a character whose beliefs or ideology are opposite to yours , and put us in their head . Show us why they believe what they do .
| I sat down waiting for him to come by. It's probably going to be another boring conversation talking about some horrible topic which will never benefit any of us in the long run. Oh, here he comes, with his ridiculous smile on his face, and slumped sholdires.
`` How are you. Tavel?'' He extends his hand as if I am supposed to shake it. He waits for a second then sits down.
`` I ca n't believe that you actually came,'' I say, watching his eyes dart around the room unfocused.
`` Why would n't I''
`` Because you're a coward'' Everyone who saw him knew it. `` You're afraid to write anything, to make anything, You are wasting your endless creative talent sitting in your room wishing you could be me'' I had cut him deep, and that was worth it.
`` And you''
`` Admittedly, I have not done much with my life but at least I am doing something. Sure no fancy hotels, or names in the newspapers, but I can afford going to the Bahamas every year, something you will never achieve''
`` Why is that?''
`` Because, I am focused, I am risk taking and I am more grounded in reality than you will ever be'' Just watching his face churn gave me pleasure. `` You think your silly Bible can get you somewhere in life. It's ludicrous''
He smiled, looked down at the ground and returned his glance at me `` I can see why you would think that. You do have success, fortune, and power, but you are empty''
`` Empty,'' I ask
`` Empty and stupid. That's not bad, mind you, but it does allow this pride to get in the way''
`` Fair point, but do you think you're smarter than me''
`` Definitely more satisfied''
`` How'' I yell `` Because you can dream up all you could ever want because you never needed to take the initiative because you grew up as a white male in a decent home. You had every advantage given to you, and you did nothing with is, so I deserve what I have gotten''
`` I think we're done here,'' He says with a grim expression
`` I am not the coward here'' I yell to him as he walks away `` I am better than you will ever be'' He does n't even look back. `` At least I do n't have to justify my speciality by claiming I'm a pedophile'' That got him to look back. A tear wells up in his eye, and he runs away. The grin on my face slowly grows into a smile, then I start laughing. I may lack creativity or satisfaction, but I am successful on my own merits, and I do n't need anyone else to help me.
`` Damn you'' I whisper under my breath `` Damn you and your infernal control over our body''
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Provide a monologue for a astronaut who just survived a crash landing on the moon
| ...
* Astronaut crash lands on the moon. Waking up he sees the rest of his crew either dead around him or missing. Looking at his oxygen levels he sees he has little more than 15 minutes left of life. The radio is dead *
The bitter irony. The injustice of it all! I've spent my life dreaming of coming to the moon and the second we touch down I can only dream of being home with my family. My family. I'll never see them again. Benjamin will grow up without his father. Eilidh will grow up without her husband. I owe it to myself to collect my thoughts before... before the end.
The end. The thought of being in control is unnerving to say the least, but in my current surroundings it could have been a lot worse. I knew the risks before I came. It's one thing to say you're willing to risk your life for the future of mankind but I ca n't remember the last time I actually feared for my life.
Why me? Why could I not have died on impact. I'm almost jealous of my dead colleagues. Almost.
I feel weird. An odd sensation that's passing through my body like a faint wind. But of course there's no wind on the moon. Perhaps it knows what's coming. Using up the last of it's resources in a vain attempt to override the part of my brain that is in touch with reality.
*Looking upwards*
The universe. So beautiful...
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( WP ) Four years ago , you watched your closest friend enter a portal . Since , you 've waited every day for her to come out . She just stepped out , with a defeated , scared look on her face .
| `` Em, what's wrong?''
She would n't say a word. The portal dissipated behind her, but she stood there, unmoving. If it were n't for the rapid rising and falling of her chest, I'd have thought I was staring at a hallucination, born from the intense longing I'd had for my friend.
Her wide, terrified eyes had scared me at first, but recounting the past four years of her absence let me break through the wall of awkwardness. My eyes welled with tears. She was gone -- my best friend since we were in diapers -- for four whole years and everyone was convinced she would never come back. How could I *not* immediately want to hug her to death and threaten to never let go? I went over and put my arms up to do just that.
Instead of accepting the embrace and sobbing it out, though, Emily ran out of the room, jumped down the stairs, and left me looking like an idiot with my arms in airplane formation. After some shock, I zoomed after her.
`` Hey, Emily, come back!''
I docked myself at the kitchen just as she reached for the fridge. She yanked it open like She-Hulk ripping out a beating heart, nearly taking the handle with her. It was then that I noticed she was really, really angry. Like, the last time she was this pissed was when I stuffed ice cubes down her bra during a sleepover.
`` You...''
Finally. That was the first word she said... but it was n't directed at me. She took something yellow, leafy, and prickly out of the fridge.
A pineapple?
`` Go to hell!''
With that, she dropped the unassuming fruit onto the floor and trampled it underfoot. She growled and stomped like a horse possessed. I was lost for words, watching fresh produce being murdered in my kitchen.
`` Em, what the fuck are you doing to my food,'' I finally said.
She halted her weird mosh pit and ran over to me. Now her eyes were narrowed and eyebrows arched as she grabbed me by the collar.
`` Liz, you've got ta listen to me.'' With our faces so close she was practically spitting on me, I had no choice but to listen. She continued. `` I came from the future.''
Slowly, I nodded. I mean, I'd just watched her step out of a portal. How could anything else push my suspension of disbelief further?
`` Okay... and what did you see in the future?''
`` See this?''
She pointed down at the slushied remains of the pineapple I bought half-price a day earlier, stomping her foot one more time as if to prove a point.
`` *These* are our enemies.''
I looked at her. Then to the pineapple. Then back to her.
`` Pineapples?''
`` Yes.''
`` Pineapples are our enemies?''
`` Yes.''
`` In the future?''
`` Yes!''
`` But... *pineapples*?''
`` Yes! For fuck's sakes, are you gon na make me repeat that all day?''
I wanted to say `` Yes,'cause no matter how many times you say it, you sound like you just got off the loony bin.'' But the fire in her eyes told me to back down.
Seeing that I believed her, Emily grabbed some paper towels and my sponge and thoroughly scrubbed both her feet and the floor free of the tropical debris. She did it vigorously, like she was warding off all remains of Satan's blood or something. I was completely silent the whole time, watching her go through the process.
`` It all started with a mutation signal being sent out to all pineapples across the Earth,'' she said after we were seated. `` It caused the enzymes in pineapples to go all haywire. You know how pineapple's really sour?''
`` Yeah,'' I said, still unsure of how I should be reacting.
`` Well, that's because the juices in pineapples contain enzymes like the ones in our stomachs. So when you eat one, it's also eating you.''
I nodded in understanding.
`` Thing is, the mutation strengthened those enzymes about a thousand-fold. Now just touching a slice of pineapple allows the thing to devour you whole. And because of the mutation, the pineapples' metabolism also evolved and allowed them to merge our DNA with their own.''
I thought for a second. `` Wait, you do n't mean...''
Emily stared me dead in the eyes. `` It's exactly what you're thinking. They became intelligent, self-aware pineapple humanoids.''
I wanted to laugh at the idea of a fucking pineapple with arms and legs, but the spooky vibe Emily gave it made me shiver instead.
`` By the time it was broadcast internationally, it was already too late. The Prickly Ones, as they like to be called, declared war on human civilization. Since they were spread all over the world and all over towns and cities, they quickly won. What remained of humanity fled to the Arctic, since the Prickly Ones had n't adjusted to such extreme cold yet. But they will eventually.''
My head was spinning. `` This is insane. You said this all started'cause someone sent out a signal to start the mutation. Who would do that?''
Emily shook her head. `` That is n't important, and it's too late to go searching for them now. After seeing it with my own eyes, I traveled back to the past so I could stop this mess.''
Well, now this was starting to make sense to me. Just a little. `` Oh, really? And what's your plan?''
`` We have to inform people right away. Get this info on the news, Twitter, Facebook, I do n't care as long as the world can see it. We'll ask everyone to gather up all of the pineapples in their area and dump them into a hole in the ground.''
I scratched my chin curiously. `` Sounds good, but we ca n't just leave them lying in the ground. What then?''
`` We get people to drive their cars into the pineapple stashes.''
`` And then?'' I glared at her, wide-eyed.
`` And then...''
Emily licked her lips.
`` It's smoothie time.''
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[ WP ] You are a peaceful alien , trying to contact Earth . They think an invasion is happening .
| { 019992773801813-2849387010-10289000566892873 }
01879: It has been 1,879 cycles since the incident left the ship disabled without the lightspeed drive, leaving me alone and limping painfully slow through the rural landscape of the Cordiva Galaxy. My hopes of being rescued dwindle each day, as the likelihood of the wormhole which brought me to this galaxy collapsing grows. I'm beginning to believe that my survival may depend on finding refuge elsewhere, with one of the Type 0 civilizations that has been mapped out to live within range.
01923: It's official. I'm stuck in rural Cordiva with no lightspeed drive and no wormhole back to Garchen. I watched the wormhole collapse in spectacular fashion not long ago. I now have no choice but to boot up the lecterometer in search of transmissions from one of the nearby planets. Normally I'd be cautious about doing so, as this will effectively transmit my location to all local inhabitants, however I believe that there are few if any predatory peoples in this particular space. Now I play the waiting game to see what signals I pick up and lock on to their origin. Hopefully, the translator is able to decipher patterns in any transmissions and allow me to communicate with the transmitting species.
01927: Breakthrough! After a few cycles with no luck on the lecterometer, I remembered that infantile beings likely would n't have that technology yet - and would likely rely on simple radio signals. I fired up the relic radio which has probably never been used on this ship and up to this point, I had n't understood why it would even be here. I received an overwhelming number of signals that all originated nearby, on the 3rd body of a yellow dwarf. The translator has found a commonality in many of the transmissions, which I believe to be the predominant language of the species. This is both good news and bad news - The good news being that I can hopefully craft a message that they'll be able to understand. The bad news is that they are young enough to still utilize multiple languages. When a civilization has yet to organize itself on one scale, they likely are still violent towards one another. If they're violent among their own on the small rock they call home - I likely represent an existential threat to them. I'll need to be cautious in my message. This could be the first contact they've had with an intellect besides themselves.
01928: The message has been sent. Decoding and translating 19874TTs of data suggested that the most effective message to portray my predicament and my peaceful plea for refuge was `` SOS. Extra-terrestrial being in need of refuge. I come in peace. Will arrive shortly. Please withhold weapons.'' In any case, I'm almost in visual range of the planet and should be able to view surface activity shortly. Guidance has me landing in 2 cycles if all goes well.
01929: I can see them! While I've yet to receive a radio transmission directed at me ( as far as I can sort through the mess ), I'm now able to see surface movement. Most of the the planet is covered in [ water ], and the life appears to be carbon-based, just as it is on Garthen. The beings seem to move - a lot. I can see what seems to be hundreds of thousands of them gathering in large spaces. Their surface transportation network looks perpetually clogged, with few of the millions of vehicles able to move. I ca n't be sure that they've received my message, so I have it re-sending every 1/10th of a cycle. There's no indication of any rescue mission approaching me - even though I have sent my coordinates and trajectory. Therefore my plan is to land on the planet, which is much too inept to have any sort of atmospheric shield. Tomorrow's the day I finally get out of this ship!
01930: I'm in final approach, but it appears that my landing may not be necessary. Even though I've yet to find a radio response, I've noticed some activity that looks like a rescue operation. About 5-10 vehicles have leapt through the planet's atmosphere, and appear to be heading straight for me. I'm not familiar with the technology in use, although it appears to be rocket propulsion. As I watch the vehicles approach, I'm curious as to how they are going to decelerate. They're approaching much quicker than our safety protocols would allow - but perhaps they're planning a flyby maneuver. Any moment now I should be in the presence of this young species. I hope that I can provide some useful knowledge and information to help them mature and grow, and perhaps even begin a Stage 1 interplanetary relati -- - END OF LOG
[ Translated by U.S. Defense Intelligence Agency from debris recovered from ETV1 - 2/2/33 - PERMANENTLY CLASSIFIED ]
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[ WP ] By every law of physics what he saw in front of his eyes should be impossible , yet there it was , existing .
| By every law of physics, what he saw in front of his eyes should be impossible, yet there it was, existing. The 1960 silver dime hovered in the air, rotating slowly one direction, and then other, lazily, but seeming to vibrate like hummingbird wings. White light collected in the surface of the dime and slid fluidly over to the other side, flowing over the angles of Roosevelt's tiny silver face.
Erik's eyes slitted in concentration, his breath escaping his chest in harsh rasps. Sweat rolled down his scalp through his shaggy brown hair, his brain boiling with the effort in his skull. *I ca n't believe it's working... it's finally happening*, he thought, and his sudden fear at his success broke his nerve. The dime tinged down on the worn oaken surface of the table, and Erik broke in to nervous high-pitched laughter.
`` I can do this,'' he stammered, choking on his words through panicky laughter. *'' I can really do it! `` * A slow trickle of blood was running from his left tear duct, but Erik had yet to notice it.
`` I CAN DO IT!'' he screamed jubilantly, and the thin trail of blood made a sudden jag off his cheekbone, collecting in his haggard beard stubble as he threw his arms in the air in celebration.
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[ WP ] A man in a hospital sees Death . Death 's intentions are not what he expects .
| `` Shit. You see me, do n't you?''
Thomas's mouth refused to move as he watched the tall cloaked figure. Everything felt cold and clammy. This was it. He knew this was it.
`` Look do n't freak out... just... pretend I'm not here!'' Death said while waving his hand in front of his shadow that refused to reveal a face in any light.
`` I... it's not my time... I don't—'' Thomas was cut off.
`` Calm down! You might be old but you only came here for a kidney stone for Christ's sake! Must have been a pretty big one if you can see me!'' Death laughed feebly.
Thomas's fear had not fully melted away, but had fused with his confusion and curiosity to form butterflies that pressed and ached in his stomach.
Thomas finally found the words, `` Th-thank you?''
`` So... Thomas right? And no, I do n't know everything. I do know everything about anything in my general vicinity. It's pretty useful. And generally annoying considering how many useless things I walk by on a daily basis,'' Death rambled, pausing awkwardly and staring at Thomas searchingly.
`` I'm sorry, but have we met before? Oh right! Your Aunt Agnes! Quite sorry about that, did n't mean to take her at dinner, she just clearly wanted to leave and nearly jumped into my arms once she saw me. Your mother's cooking must have got to her!'' Death gave up on jokes after this.
`` I... why are you here? Is someone dying?'' Thomas asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
`` Well, yes but that's just my day job. The Night Guy will get those ones,'' Death said wearily.
`` It's a thankless job, really. I help prevent overpopulation and make sure you do n't have to support all the incurably sick and wounded and half of you are terrified of me! I mean, double that for the Night Guy, but I do n't really blame them. He can be a bit intimidating with the scythe and all,'' Death went on.
`` Okay... so why are you here?'' Thomas questioned, growing slightly more comfortable in the casualness of this unforeseen and supposed-to-be-unseen visitor.
`` It's my hobby. Hospitals are great for it,'' he said.
`` What hobby?'' Thomas did not know what kind of hobby Death would have.
After a short pause, Death spoke, `` You know what, it'll be easier to show you.''
Suddenly Thomas was on his feet looking at his body.
`` OH GOD I—''
`` No you're not! God, you're squeamish! I just thought the nurses would find it weird if you were walking around at 2AM talking to yourself after having a kidney stone. So I took your soul out. Temporarily,'' Death said as he calmingly patted him on the back.
`` Temporarily?''
`` Temporarily.''
`` Let's go! I do n't want to miss it!'' Death said, gitty and excited.
______
Thomas and Death came to a small room labelled 4b. Thomas could only imagine what was inside: open heart surgeries, mangled limbs, dusty old men who might as well be corpses.
The door opened to a woman holding a crying baby. Death walked into the room, through the door silently. Thomas followed, half terrified, half curious.
`` There, there honey,'' the woman said as the baby cried, `` it's okay. I know. I know.''
The baby's whines soon disappeared as she held the now sleeping child in her arms.
And for the first time, Thomas saw the eyes of Death. They were green. A very normal but bright green.
`` So far away from me. It's beautiful, is n't it?'' He said as part of the shadow of his face seemed to contort in what Thomas could only assume was a smile.
Thomas replied, `` Yeah. Yeah it's beautiful.''
They sat there in silence for a while until finally, Death turned to Thomas and said, `` Well Thomas, it's been nice but you need to get back to your body before someone higher up, or down low for that matter, notices. It's been nice talking. Maybe I'll see you again, outside of work, I mean.''
______
And with that, Thomas awoke the next day feeling oddly fulfilled from that strange, vivid dream he had.
_____
Edit: Man, everyone loves my Death! I'm thinking I should write more about him!
Edit 2: I decided to make a subreddit to post my stories in, since reddit has a nice format for what I want to do. http: //www.reddit.com/r/lifeofdeath
Feel free to check it out! I'll be writing more soon!
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[ FF ] The last man on Earth sat alone in a room . There was a knock on the door ... ( 250 words )
| The last man on earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock at the door. He stared blankly for a moment and called out sarcastically `` who is it?'' There was no answer. He stared at the door for another moment. He stood up and slowly approached the door. In his mind he first hoped for a raven spouting never more but then it struck him that maybe someone else was alive. He timidly reached for the doorknob and turned it. Slowly and carefully he began opening the door. The door only opened an inch before it could open no more. The only thing to be heard through the crack was the sound of metal on metal as the heavy door struck the large object on the other side. He thought back to entering the room. There was a large machine next to the door. It must've fallen across the door. He slammed the door but neither the door nor the machine budged. In a panic he scanned the room. There were no windows or vents. There was no food or water. There was only a chair. The only thing anyone on earth still had was this single chair. They say even if you lose everything you still have your sanity. But at this moment the only thing anyone on earth still had was this single chair. One single chair sitting alone in a room. The last tomb to be filled by man. He sat in his chair as he tried his best to think back. He remembered something odd. Something strange about this room. He thought back. Then he remembered what it was and his mind was full of this one thing. There was a knock on the door. He stared blankly at it for a moment and called out sarcastically `` who is it?''
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[ WP ] It is revealed that butterflies do not exist , and instead children in third world countries have been painting moths and releasing them
| There went another butterfly. It was the most beautiful one I had seen yet. It's wings were a shimmery gold. The very edges of the wings looked like small, feathered black strokes and in the center of each wing was what looked like a single red crimson raindrop.
It was breathtaking and I needed to know what species it was and where it came from. So I googled it.
Nothing.
There did n't seem to be anything about a gold butterfly so... did I imagine it? I could n't see how that was possible. Ten years later and I still remembered that butterfly more vividly than anything. I had decided to dedicate my entire life to researching butterflies and I had one of the biggest collections in the world. I was *determined* to find that golden butterfly.
Three years ago I received an invitation:
*'' Dear Mrs. Fiasco, *
*We, the United States Research Foundation of Lepidoptera, are hereby cordially inviting you do conduct research in Tuvalu. You would be the first person to ever go there. This is a great honor and we sincerely hope you accept. If you do, please pack your bags immediately and be at Gate 9 of your airport by 8:00 am tomorrow morning. `` *
I accepted their invitation, immediately packed my bags and went to Gate 9. There was a translator waiting for me with my ticket and the flight over was fairly smooth sailing.
Then I arrived in Tuvalu. There are no hotels, no cars, not even real houses there. It's a broken third world country, deprived of most means of survival. But it was absolutely breathtaking. There were butterflies everywhere. Millions of them! Most of them I had never even seen before and they were all different!
I thought I would never leave. I wanted to stay there for the rest of my life and just watch them, draw them, research them. I was fascinated by this Pacific Island.
My translator and I forged our way into the capitol `` city'' where we found children in filthy rags sitting on the ground, laughing and generally enjoying themselves.
I was curious. What could have the children so happy when they literally had nothing? We approached the children who seemed eager to show their game to us, to me in particular as I was something new and exciting to them.
They had paint in bowls made out of clay and mud. Their brushes were made out of twigs, leaves and grass. It was honestly cute.
And then I saw them.
Moths. Moths everywhere. The children were grabbing the moths, painting them, and releasing them into the air. They were n't real butterflies.
I was amazed, yet horrified. I went home as soon as possible, telling the Research Federation that I needed a few days of examining our own butterflies before I could reveal my findings in Tuvalu.
Those few days turned into weeks which turned into months which finally turned into a full year. I had locked myself away, frantically studying every single butterfly I could find. It just was n't possible.
But it was.
Butterflies did n't exist. They were moths painted by those children.
I did some more research about Tuvalu. There was a very elite class of people, fifteen families all together. Those families made money off of those children painting and releasing butterflies. The more that I dug, the more I uncovered.
No wonder that golden butterfly had crimson teardrops.
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[ WP ] You are the commander of earth 's last defenses , chance for victory is remote but possible however men 's moral is broken , what do you do/say to motivate them ?
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“ Sir? You ’ re patched into the Global -Sat Feed. Just press the yellow button when you ’ re ready to speak ”
“ Thank you, Lieutenant…Thank you,... James ” The Commander, breaking protocol offered a salute to his still boyishly handsome second in command who smiled at the gesture before returning it.
“ Its been an honor, sir ”
The Commander nodded and looked up once more at the overhead telemetry readings. The gravity wells over Jupiter had failed. That only left a thin ring of horizon displacement wave generators and the sparse remnants of the Falcon Strike squad and the battered but still space worthy Enterprise –the last of their two thousand battle cruiser fleet.
Meanwhile a pulsing red orb near Mars represented the still growing in size Maleki-War Wake-Trying to take the fight to them had failed. Their mastery of FTL technology had enabled them to distort our probability drives causing the entire fleet to vanish without a single shot being fired. One million of Earth's finest, gone in an instant.
Commander Hadron returned his gaze to the yellow button for a few seconds before engaging the comm.
“ Citizens of Earth- This is Commander Rusak-leader of the Hadron Legions. The gravity wells which have long protected us from previous Xenotype incursions have been destroyed.
We have also lost contact with the entire Battle-cruiser fleet.
They were our last, best hope in fending off these invaders.
At this moment our remaining forces are pulling back from the outer regions to form a defensive ring around our home planet while the enemy gathers its forces in high orbit above Mars.
We have made several attempts to establish communications with The Maleki but as usual our hails have gone unanswered.
My friends, a long shadow now hangs over the entirety of humanity but we shall not tremble in the face of this imminent danger.
The people of Earth have danced on the precipice of extinction more times than I can count... only to rebound stronger, wiser and more prosperous.
From our first steps out of the depths of the ocean to our ascent to the tree tops and now… to the furthest reaches of known space… we have met every challenge head on, our desire for knowledge and understanding burning the fear from our hearts.
I have long thought that to possess consciousness is the greatest gift this Universe can bestow to its inhabitants. What we choose to do with it is how we define ourselves as a people. We now know we weren ’ t the first nor will we be the last to be given this wondrous ability to contemplate our place amongst the stars.
If this is how we must end our tenure as “ stardust given life ” then I do so proudly without a single regret.
A million years from now when some other species makes its journey to the stars, if they should happen upon our world they will find the faint traces of a brave and majestic race who did not cower in the face of the unknown.
So I ask you now, every man, woman and child -How will the tapestry of time record your last deeds?
Me? …When they dig me up, I want them to find my petrified hands wrapped around the throat of one of these sons a bitches.
Rusak, out ”
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[ WP ] Tell me a story that comes from your real life in the past few days .
| The Swedes were once thought of as great friends of the Empire. We traded luxury resources, the two leaders even officially declared their friendship for each other. For centuries, Swedes served in the imperial guard, the vaeragers.
But after hundreds of years of peace and friendship they betrayed us. They attacked Antioch from the southeast. Our Army, while noumerous was out of Position, positioned to the northeast against the empire's archenemy, Polynesia.
The attack came swiftly. With seemingly endless numbers, the entire imperial Army was swept aside, and Antioch was taken. They turned their greedy gaze towards Adrianople next. The City could match even the imperial capital in terms of Population. Theodora issued a statement that the City must be defended at every cost.
The production of the entire Empire were shifted to producing military Units. Armories were errected throughout the lands, and the sizeable cash reserves of the empire were used to recruit merceneries.
The line Held, and the Swedes were pushed back. Peace talks were initiated, but the Swedes demanded Adrianople. Instead a counterattack was initiated.
After decades of bombardment and significant losses, the City was retaken for the Empire. But the Swedes too brought up more and more Forces, and soon took the City back. The stubborn General sitting bull that had led the Charge demanded to remain in the City as it fell, and perished.
But with great loss of life, the City was retaken yet again, its shattered Walls no longer an obstacle. To help defend it, experimantal Gatling Guns were pushed to the front lines, and they proved to be effective. It was another few years until the Swedes finally retreated.
The City, once the young but hopeful gem of the Empire, was devestated. Sack after Sack the Population dwindled, and now was reduced to next to nothing. Another peace summit achieved nothing.
After consolidating their Forces, Theodora now launched the counterattack. The Workshops of the Empire had now turned into efficient factories, and more and more new weapons were invented and brought to the frontlines. The war that was begun with Pikes, crossbows and Trebuches was now waged with rifled muskets, cannons and gatling guns.
After taking another City, the Swedes finally gave in. The Empire not just regained Antioch, but also expanded. The War lasted 300 years.
But the future was uncertain, and the Empire has bled much. While technologically superior to the Swedes, the Empire was behind the leaders. Immediatly to the east, the old archenemy of Polynesia was still threatening the Empire. In the far east, new powers were rising: Rome, the `` true'' Empire, trapmled it's enemies. Germany was at the head of Innovation of every kind. The Inca established a colony right at the doorstep of the Empire. To the South, the Swedes began playing friendly again, but were still not to be trusted.
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[ WP ] Death has never really bothered you but when you walked out of your apartment this morning to see everyone lying dead where they were once thriving you are a little worried .
| `` Urghhhh.. Umphh.. AH!''
Pushing open a front door that has two fresh corpses lying against it is not an easy task. Made harder by the fact that the middle aged lady corpse was morbidly obese.
`` At least being dead will do her figure some good.'' thought James. `` What an inconveniance! Certainly not a task suitable to a beautiful Tuesday morning.''
James squeezed his skinny frame out of the front door and carefully stepped around the bodies. He was n't particulary upset by the site of the dead bodies - after all death was just a part of life. The very last part. He did n't like the smell much though. Or the inconvenience the dead could cause. In particular he could n't understand suicidal people who could be so rude as to jump right in front of a train as their choice of fatality. The delays they caused! Did n't they care?
James had already left a message on the emergency services answer machine to come and collect the bodies and so felt he had done his duty. Bit strange they had n't actually answered the phone line, he had thought.
He walked around the corner and saw a large red vehicle that instantly lofted his spirits.
`` Ah ha some good luck this morning! The bus is actually waiting at the stop. Incredible!''
James hurried over to the stop. The door was open and he hopped on board.
`` A return to Paddington if you please'' he commanded.
No response.
`` Sir! Sir?''
Still nothing.
James gasped. He could n't believe it. The driver must have fallen asleep. On the job no less! Standards seemed to be slipping daily!
Well he was n't going to be waking anyone. That would be too kind to this lazy good for nothing. He would instead write a letter of complaint. Let this man's boss deal him, which would no doubt end in his redundancy.
He stepped off the bus, feeling mainly annoyed but with a tinge of satisfaction.
He started walking towards the train station when he noticed a lump on the floor. It was a body and it's head was facing the wrong direction.
`` Perhaps I should consider moving'' he mused.
For the first time since stepping outside he looked around properly. In the distance in almost every direction there were lumps on the floor. Bodies.
It was quickly becoming a very strange day.
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[ WP ] We make our first contact with aliens , they explain the reason they waited so long to reveal themselves was that humans were previously galactic warlords .
| `` Please, do not panic. we do not wish you any harm'' said the crackled voice through our T.V. set. whatever this was, it had interfered with every electronic device that had speakers. hell, even the microwave was beeping in mores code.
that message played on loop, and everyone just stood around. i looked out of my 4th floor apartment down at the street, the disheveled hobo wearing nothing but a ripped trench coat and Heart-printed underwear ran around spouting `` The end is near, yall'!''
Pfft. I've seen enough movies to know that they will start to ask for help or something; that humanity will be the heroes because we are awesome. something like that.
i sat back in my Lazy boy and sipped on my morning coffee. still too hot. i noticed that the microwave had stopped sending that annoying high pitched beep. i turned my attention back to my crumby flat screen i bought from the shifty guy at the thrift store. i mean, who could pass up a 30 $ Toshiba? that's great. too bad i later found out it was laced with cocaine, but i suppose that's what i get. still a great tv though.
the screen flickered between emergency news and the static that had previously made shadows dance around my empty apartment. another sip of my coffee; still too hot. finally it stopped broadcasting in all of the different languages and now let out its message. if I'm to be honest, i was partially expecting to see some grey aliens or short green knomes or something. what i did see was... ok, you know that pokemon that's made of like, purple tar, with the comical eyes and mouth? i think its called muck or something. anyways, it looked like that. i swear, the eyes looked like they took googley eyes out of the dollar store and just hot glued them to this crusty grey half-liquid.
`` we are here to help your species'' ok, that's where i knew something was up. they are never'good' if they want to help. they are going to put us into prisons or something. i've played halflife 2, this wont end well.
`` before we presented ourselves, we needed to make sure that humanity has progressed enough to comprehend what we are about to give you. the first time we came, you insisted that we help you build giant stone triangles in the sand. the last time we had visited, your technology was sufficient enough but you were, and we quote `` beating those goddamn Nazi bastards''. so we waited; and let us say, you have done quite a lot. we have, however, noticed a couple areas that could be improved; like how some of your kind rejects the idea of being immune to polio. i mean, who gives that up? that's retarded! who the fuck would let their children die! I'm-''
the pokemon let out a sigh. a lighter, more purple muddy hand patted the main announcer on the side, mixing the two colors. kind of like when you start to mix 2 different kinds of playdoh. i think this would be a much worse mess to pick out though.
`` anyways'' the blob continued. `` we were scared of... showing ourselves before. simply because before your generation of humans, there were the golden humans. those guys were dicks, you would n't believe. they were the most pretentious shits in the entire quadrant let me tell you. rivaled only by the Somonas. but they knew how to throw a rad party, so it made up for it.''
`` damn'' i thought. `` they seem pretty chill, actually. this might end well. another sip. too hot -well, its getting there. damn its hard to pay attention to these guy's rabble without coffee. i can probably watch this on youtube later, or at least get the gist of it. for now, I'm going to take a nap.'' and so i slept.
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[ WP ] Your young son and your dog are constant companions . Too constant . Now your son drinks out of the toilet and humps things .
| `` So, tell me, Edgar, why do you think you're in here.'' A blonde girl of about 30 asked me, smiling so wide I could see that her nurses outfit matched her pristine white teeth.
`` I'm telling you, I'm not a loony! That dog catcher took my boy!'' I yelled. I knew I should n't have. I knew that screaming would only serve to reinforce the belief these people had of me that I'm off my rocker. But you have to understand, I was panicked, you know what those people do to bad dogs, and Rex was the meanest of them all. If my boy was emulating him, I knew it would n't be long before things got bad.
`` Just tell the nice man what you told me'' she told me, referring to a heavy-set man who most certainly did not look nice.
`` Fine'', I conceded, `` I'm a single parent, a poor working man who could n't possible afford a day-care, much less a nanny. Working in construction, bringing my boy to work was most definitely not an option either. I figure a boy of 10 could take care of himself for a few hours while I worked late, but I'm not the type to take risks. So, I brought a guard dog. That's Rex. No burglar's gon na risk breaking in with that behemoth shambling around the front yard.''
`` Tell us about Rex''
`` He never really took to anyone, and people tended not to take to him either, according to the pet store employee. He was a loud dog, and anyone who'd try to approach him would be met with a menacing'GRRRRRR''' At this point I unsuccessfully try to mimic a growling sound, I'm sure that won me some points with Mr. Nice Man. `` However, when Rex met my boy at the shop, it seemed as though they had a sort of... affinity. So I brought the thing. It was perfect, my boy had a companion and a guardian for those long days I was working and could n't be with him.''
`` Unfortunately, it was a bit too perfect...'' I trailed off, wondering how I could have missed all the signs. Rubbing your equipment on anything you can get your hands on, well, I figured that was standard for a 10 year old. Using the toilet as a water bowl and using the litter box as a toilet, however, alarm bells should have been a' ringing.
`` Is this the dog you claim to be your son?'' Nice Man had finally spoken up. It brought a tear to my eye seeing my own flesh in blood trapped in his little cage like that.
`` Yeah, that's my boy. I'm begging you, please. I have n't lost it, I know my son when I see him'' At this point I was bawling. Must have been pretty pathetic, seeing a grown man crying like I was.
`` Do n't worry, Mr. Furz. I believe you.'' The nurse said, her smile looking more menacing than reassuring at this point. Turning to the Nice Man, she whispers `` I think we have everything we need, let's get out of here. This man has gone to the dogs.''
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[ WP ] You discover that you suddenly gain the ability to control anyone you 'd like . However , their consciousness talks to you as you do so .
| Hey Reddit, sorry. I meant to post this in /r/AskReddit
It was so sudden that I was n't really sure what to do. It was n't easy controlling his body and it was honestly terrifying. I am not exactly sure what was going on and thought it was a hallucination at first.
The only reason I did n't post this in `` Ask'' is because I thought it would n't be taken seriously and just deleted. When I finally came to a few moments ago I came on to notice the post was here and it was real.
I ca n't really say much as it's hard to remember everything that happened. Something strange is happening in the universe.
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[ WP ] Write anything you want . The catch : Every post in this thread takes place in the same universe and you are n't allowed to break the canon .
| /u/Silverspy01, /u/NeonShockz, /u/StormsAndWolves, and /u/JulienBrightside approached the village, and /u/Silverspy01 let himself relax. He would n't tell the others, but the plants had scared him. He knew nothing about them, and he hated not knowing. Well, they could n't get him here. Cookies would help everyone. Approaching the central square, /u/Silverspy01 saw a crowd listening to a lone man. Another survivor must have showed up while they were gone. As /u/Silverspy01 came closer, he began to notice more details. The man was shirtless, covered in scars. Specially displayed was a large `` R'' carved into his chest, from the looks of it recently. The ring finger on the left hand was also missing. By the look of it this man had been in a bad situation. But who was he? /u/Silverspy01 began to shove his way to the front of the crowd. `` Excuse me, pardon me, sorry, coming through.'' As he got to the front, he slowed and came to a stop. Standing before him was an impossibility. Someone who he had thought dead, and one of the worst inhabitants of the old world. This was not possible. He had seen the death himself.
`` /u/Braz-dur?!''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Reknor stood up. `` WHO SAID THAT?!'' he roared, rage twisting his features. Townsfolk scattered at his sudden rage and reformed at the edge of the square. Leaving one man, and his three companions.
`` I did.'' the one at the front spoke. `` I am /u/Silverspy01. I built this town for peace. You are not welcome here.
`` /u/Silverspy01?'' Reknor grinned. `` Just who I was waiting for.'' With that, he leaped at /u/Silverspy01, knocking him to the ground. One of /u/Silverspy01's companions raised his hands, static electricity beginning to build up. A bolt of lightning arched towards Reknor, only to dissipate midair. Reknor got his hands around /u/Silverspy01's throat and tried to squeeze. But for some reason, /u/Silverspy01 remained unaffected. Another bother tried to attack him with a knife with a cry of `` protect the king! ``, but tripped and fell. Abandoning /u/Silverspy01's throat, Reknor stood up as if to stomp on him. But yet again, and invisible force seemed to block his kicks. Reknor glanced around, and saw a woman standing off to the side, looking around uncertainly. When she saw Reknor looking at her, she began to raise her gun. She was too late. Reknor grabbed it out of his hands, turned back to /u/Silverspy01, and squeezed the trigger... only to misfire. Cursing his luck, he ran back at /u/Silverspy01 intending to beat him with his bare hands. But yet again he was repelled.
Reknor was n't stupid. He knew that some other entity was a part of this, one who seemed to be more powerful then Reknor. He doubted his Nors would be much good either. But they could still hide and plan. It was always good to have a secret weapon. Givign one last snarl, he turned and fled the village. /u/Silverspy01 seemed to be protected, but no protection was invincible. All he would have to do was find its weakness.
-- -
/u/NeonShockz watched Reknor run away. `` Should we go after him?'' he asked, his hands still crackling with electricity.
/u/Silverspy01 got up and dusted himself off. `` No,'' he replied. `` You saw how easily he attacked us. The protection only works inside the village, and I would hate for him to kill me. As much as I hate it, our best bet is to stay here for now. I would like to thank you two for trying to help me.'' At this he nodded towards /u/NeonShockz and /u/JulienBrightside. `` And of course /u/StormsAndWolves must have known about the protection in place and decided not to waste bullets.'' Now, I wonder how /u/Braz-dur came back... I was sure he was dead. But I suppose it would n't be the strangest thing that's happened in the last few days.
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[ WP ] you just invented a time machine , but it can only transport people inside itself . This means this moment is furthest back in time anyone can go . You pull up a chair and wait for the first visitors .
| It was finally done.
I wiped the sweat from my brow, huffing in the stale air, glancing over at the old woman rocking in her chair, snoring peacefully with each sway.
`` Grandma?''
Her eyes snapped open instantly, taking me aback.
`` June 29, 2016, at 4:29.70 am.'' She blurted out immediately, casting her eyes around the room wildly. `` Did I oversleep?''
I did n't need to glance at my stopwatch to confirm the declaration. I was certain she was correct down to the millisecond, since she had predicted this so many decades ago.
`` Only by a few seconds, grams.'' I said, smiling. `` It's done. I finally finished it.''
`` A few seconds...'' She rubbed her eyes blearily. `` Bah, boy, that's an eternity past. Anyone see it yet?''
`` No, grams. I have n't even called my professor yet.''
She mused over this for a few seconds, muttering softly to herself. Whereas others had only seen insanity, I had seen inspiration and genius - and it had propelled me this far, so I was prepared to give her a few moments to think out loud.
`` Hit your watch again, real quick. Get it running again.''
`` Grandma!'' I barked, surprised. `` This is a *vital* scientific breakthrough, temporal accuracy is paramount! We've discussed this, remember? If I misreport the creation time, people might go back too far and blink themselves out of existence!''
She arched a grey eyebrow at me. `` Are you stupid, boy? If you report an earlier time, yes. If you report the wrong time in the opposite direction, then as long as you stick to it for the rest of your life, nobody will know. Well, except for idiots who gamble their lives on conspiracy theories. They'll overshoot and sort themselves out, though. Hit the damn button, boy.''
Hesitantly, I did, but not before confirming the time it read. 04:29.70, and counting.
`` That'll buy you some time, I should n't have napped, but eh... I'm old.'' She beamed over at me. `` So, you finally got time travel going. And here you were, so confident that with pre-knowledge, you'd complete it early, and create a paradox. Mama Teach is never wrong, no she is n't.''
I grinned, somewhat chagrined. `` Right. Mama Teach is right on the money with her guesses. Now, why do you *guess* you had me hit the button again?''
She mused for a moment. `` Boy, what do you think will happen once you open the Alpha Gate?''
`` People will be able to time travel to any point henceforth, up to and until the device is ever destroyed?''
``... and you do n't think you'll ever get tourists, who want to see the exact moment it all began?''
I shrugged. `` Yeah, which is why I set out a few dozen seats.''
Her jaw dropped, and she began chuckling, slowly at first, but rolling into belly busters. `` Boy, you sure are a naive little idiot genius, are n't you? Do you ever stop to *think*, or do you just *invent? * How many people in this world? 7 billion or so? And that's in just this snapshot. There are a near infinite number of snapshots a'coming, and while it wo n't be all seven billion plus at a time... Jesus, boy. D'you think the Eiffel, or Buckingham Palace, or the White House only get *a few dozen* gawping visitors total throughout all of time?''
I blanched. `` Oh.'' Lamely, I added, `` So I should set out more seats?''
After she had ceased laughing, looking dangerously close to falling out of her chair, she sized me up speculatively. `` Now, eventually, a Bureau of Time that does n't yet exist will be and thus exist now, and they'll regulate travel to make sure you do n't have several trillion knocking at your door every hour for the next ten generations straight... but yes, the very *moment* you submit that proof that time travel is possible, people will start showing up. Hence, the watch.''
I looked at it, still ticking down the minutes. `` I see.''
`` No you do n't, boy. We need time for me to explain a few things to you. Most important secrets. For one, you can never so much as whisper out loud how you finally got it working. Scientists, military folk, and the like will hound you until you die to spill those beans, and more insidiously, there will be ghosts - sorry, temporal travelers with advanced cloaking devices - eavesdropping on every second of your life from that point onwards, hoping that you tell even one person in strictest confidence how it works, so that they can go forward and reproduce it.''
She paused, contemplative. `` Hope you do n't talk in your sleep, boy. And it's a very good thing that this - whatcha calling it?''
`` The Manuel Sanchez Temporality Altering Drive, Alpha Gate.'' I said quickly, with a sheepish smile.
`` Very humble. I notice *my* name is n't in there anywhere. At any rate... it's a good thing that the final calculation is purely a fixed intuitive leap. Nobody else will ever make it, even if they try to reverse engineer how you did. Trust me on that, *nobody* will. They'll all try, though, in desperation. And then they'll turn to trying to pry it out of you with spies, chemical baths, brain cloning, the likes...''
She smirked, her eyes shut as she rattled off the lists of tortures I could look forward to. `` None will work, of course, so they'll retcon them so you can live a fairly normal life in the main snapshot. Do n't worry too much.''
This niggled my brain, something that I had always wondered. `` Grams, how exactly *do* you know so much about the future, if I'm just now inventing the Alpha Gate? It's not like you could travel to the future before I created a means of traveling to the future, to see how I'd do all this... and yet, you have exact times. Even,'' I glanced again at my watch, `` even times that are... er, were historically recorded incorrectly.''
`` Oh, you created a way to time travel, I wo n't take that accomplishment away from you.'' She paused, drawling out the words slowly. `` But knock some of that damn hubris out of the chunk between your ears, you did n't *invent* a way to time travel. That's all on me. Incidentally, that's the second thing we need to discuss before you can set that watch right.''
I stammered, taking the implication in. `` But grams, I invented the Alpha Gate. There can be no time travel before this, because I'm the person who makes the time travel that everyone uses.''
`` Everyone *else. *'' She corrected. `` You do n't think things through all the way, always been your biggest failing. Ah well, you'll get better... with time.''
`` You think that unmoderated time travel is safe for time? Let's use one example, time travel and Hitler are entertwined. There'll be people going back to kill Hitler. People going back to save Hitler. People going back to re-kill Hitler. People going back to interview Hitler. That's just *one* event that will be constantly in fluctuation, and a temporal link in the chains of time relentlessly subjected to twisting and tearing. You think that left unchecked, things will just somehow sort themselves out?''
`` Uh... nobody can go back to mess with Hitler. I *just* made time travel now.''
`` Idiot. I'm using it as an example. There will be more Hitlers, under different names and different extremes. Ca n't you figure out what I'm trying to say?''
I ruminated on it. `` Okay, so what *does* protect time from its travelers, if Cosmic Censorship is n't at play?''
`` Not what, who. You will. Well, eventually. There's a long list of things you need to do, first, to get there. Spiritual growth. Physical growth. A trip to 2193 to get surgically induced immortality, from a specialist with a policy of only doing one surgery every ten thousand years, at a specific and exact time. Do n't be late to *that* appointment. Things of that nature.''
``... how, grams?''
She wordlessly tapped her rocking chair, drawing my attention down to it.
`` **I** invented time travel. Do n't forget it. And this is *my* gate. Built it when I was a little girl. I guess I should have named it... so how about Emilia Sanchez Temporality Altering Drive, Gate Nulla?''
I gawped.
`` You can hit the button on that watch now. Well, maybe give it a few more minutes, just to make a safe margin. Remember: do n't blab about how gates work. And above that, *never* mention that an earlier model exists, with the ability to go backwards even further and make even greater changes. You'll figure out how eventually.''
She gestured towards my machine suddenly. `` In fact, you already have.''
I looked back over, numbly marveling at how different the machine looked. `` Um...''
`` Oh, I recognize that particular piece over there. Filtration device from after the Alpha Gate was shattered. Probably set up to prevent a particular time from being visited. You'll likely explain it as a bug in the hardware, or some kind of temporal lock, or... well, come up with your own mumbo jumbo, it ai n't like they can call you out on it, right?''
I nodded weakly. `` And I installed that... will install that... will have once installed that...''
`` It'll be a confusing life for you, boy. And it starts when you hit that button on your watch, you wo n't have even a second to spare once you have all the time in the world. Just make sure you visit your old grams from time to time before I die.''
I sat down, shakily.
`` Incidentally, January 2nd, 2025. The funeral will be lovely, I suppose I'll see you there, at a minimum. Try not to flirt with ol' grams too much, I was a bit of a firebrand in my youth, and I wo n't really know you, or know why you're there. Not at first, that is. Just saying, seeing your own funeral makes a gal chug whiskey like no tomorrow, and I was n't always just an innocent old cheek pincher. Try not to become your own grandpa.''
I shook my head mutely, before poking the button on my watch to pause it again. If for nothing else, to escape *that* alarming conversation.
`` Hello hello hello, sir! I'm Admiral Forthright of the 19th Division, and can I just say what an honor it'll be to serve with your great grandnephew? God, I *finally* get to meet you!''
I blinked up. `` A pleasure to meet you too. Uh, excuse me. I need to make a call.''
`` Wait, am I the first?'' He crowed excitedly. `` Yes!''
|
[ WP ] A [ TIFU ] submitted by Santa Claus
| TIFU By... Just read the story...
Firstly, I'm gon na say that this happened at oh, 4am on Christmas. I was half dead from exhaustion, and I think I was beginning to see things. Or, in this case, I was beginning to miss things that would've otherwise been plain as day.
So, as I said, it's 4am. I'm running really low on Christmas cheer at this point, and I still have to do another four states before I can go home and crash. I head down to the next house on my list. Chimney's a snug enough fit, but I manage it. I got inside, no kids asleep on the couch ( you would n't believe how many times that's happened ), cookies ( stale and thin, but anything besides the usual diabetes on a plate is fine by me at this point ) and milk by the fireplace as expected. Smooth sailing, right?
Wrong.
The first foul-up came when a man I can only assume was the dad came downstairs from his room while I was putting the presents around what I thought at the time was their Christmas tree -- in retrospect, the lack of lights and decorations should've been a bit of a red flag. An adult comes downstairs, and we stare at each other for a solid minute. No noise, no movement, if it were a movie you'd think it froze. Then the guy starts screaming and throwing everything he could reach at me, calling me a thief and a burglar and a bunch of other stuff. Now I may be jolly but if you call me a thief, I'm gon na show you exactly how much muscle you can gain hefting a big-ass sack full of random toys around all night.
Then the rest of his family came downstairs, turned on the light... and it turns out I'm wailing on the patriarch of a Jewish family. That crappy tree? A menorah. The crappy cookies? Matzo wafers. I guess the father had gotten himself a midnight snack, which also explains the milk... and I just beat the hell out of him in front of his family. I hightailed it out of there and crossed two states before realizing I left the toy sack back in the house.
|
[ WP ] You are an alien that crashed on Earth . With your dying breath you send one last transmission to your home planet warning them to beware humans .
| Aisir awoke inside the ruins of the ship. He began to move, only to halt at the sharp stabbing sensations emanating from his side. It hurt to breathe somewhat. He tried to move his limbs, only to realize they too had become immobile.
`` Curse it all...'' He groaned to himself, as he began tugging at the harness. Eventually after some brute force, the restraints snapped loose. Aisir leaned far enough right to topple into the floor. The emergency lights lit the way to the exit. But for the time being, all Aisir could think of was the pain.
`` Lieutenant Aisir... What is your status? Lieutenant, do you read?''
`` Yeah, Bertha'll, I read.'' Aisir squeezed out between gasps as he laid on the floor of the craft.''
`` What is your status? Our scanners have lost your craft. Please report status...''
`` Status...'' Aisir forgot for a moment. Clawing his way to the bulkhead, he realized how badly wounded he actually was. The gash protruding from his side had cause him to lose a considerable amount of fluid. He could see the pinkish trail as he rolled to his left for a brief moment.
`` Lieutenant?'' The voice reminded him.
`` Ship is down.'' Aisir breathed overcoming his nausea, `` Repeat ship down... On surface of planet C130-B97, planet under observation... Respond Bertha'll.''
`` C130-B97, or as inhabitant species dubbed; Earth. Correct lieutenant?''
`` Confirmed Bertha'll... Contact leadership of Quadrant, *erggh*, ASAP.''
`` Maintain communication...'' Aisir continued crawling toward the emergency release hatch as the call connected itself over the next minute.
`` Captain De'Xor responding. Report status lieutenant.''
`` Sir...'' Aisir panted, `` Ship has been shot down. Contact made. Life support destroyed... They have weaponry, sir. Weaponry, we did not anticipate.''
`` Impossible.'' The captain replied, `` Our studies showed that the beings prefer war between themselves, lieutenant. Why would they have anti-ship capability?''
`` I do n't know how, but they do.'' Aisir said as he pulled himself some more. `` They've apparently expected such a thing to occur. Scouting this planet was a mistake, sir.''
`` Pull yourself together!'' The captain commanded. Aisir breathed more to calm himself as he listened. `` You are Lieutenant Aisir, Bertha'll base personnel; of the Andromeda Federation. Stand strong!''
`` I'm standing the *best I can*, sir.'' Aisir explained, as he gripped the release lever. The hatch exploded off, causing him to be blinded by the light. Aisir toppled out of the craft. Landing on the ground two yards below did not help his injuries. He felt something crack, and became rather feint. Lying prone again he glanced at his surroundings.
`` Activate, video transmission.'' Aisir said as the device activated.
--
Captain De'Xor demanded the operators to open the feed. They were greeted a view of the ground, followed by Aisir's arms as he made his way to the top of the shallow crater. Rolling again, Aisir faced what appeared to be a path of some sort, made of black material. A yellow line streaking the center led to confusion of what the surface meant amongst the crowd. De'Xor gestured for silence.
`` Oh... Oh... Curse it all.'' Aisir groaned, `` Bertha'll come in... Do you have the feed?''
`` We do lieutenant.'' De'Xor replied.
`` You should n't... you should n't...'' Aisir continued, the feed turning towards the horizon; green fields, buildings and a bright, blue sky, stretched away from him.
`` By the Council... It's... It's *beautiful*... I've never seen anything like it...''
`` Respond Aisir.'' De'Xor asked quietly.
`` Never come here.'' He pleaded, `` Please. Never come here... Tell my child, I'm sorry... Captain, please, *tell my child. * Tell my family *I'm sorry*....''
`` Lieutenant,'' De'Xor responded `` I command you-''
He paused as they listened for a moment. Something had arrived nearby. A ship perhaps? The crowd shrieked as the camera rolled over to face the sky, and a masked being aiming what appeared to be a large photon at what would be Aisir's face. They listened as Aisir gasped hard for air, his lungs taking it in as much as possible. Then; he became still. Eventually, another being stepped into view. This one wore all black, and was less heavily armed. Eventually he motioned for the armored one to lower his weapon.
`` He's gone.'' The being stated, `` Sit rep. Secure the area. Call in Biological for extract.''
`` Sir, yes sir.'' The armored being replied.
The feed lost connection soon after, and Da'Xor was left consider what to tell the Council, as well as how to approach the lieutenant's next of kin.
--
Like this story? Check out some more random stuff posted at /r/Jamaican_Dynamite/
|
[ WP ] As a person goes through his life , he is given three options at the end of each day , continue , restart day , or restart life . He has just lived through the worst day of his life .
| Colin hated life. It was dark, dreary, and any mistake or memory could be undone.
At the age of ten, Colin's parents chose to restart their lives *together*, without him. They'd decided having a child was a bad idea. So they abandoned him.
It happened a lot, parents leaving their children. Children called it'a cosmic divorce'. There were many of them, millions. Children could n't choose their daily options until aged eighteen. There were n't any laws regarding parents leaving their children, it did n't happen that often.
Some of those abandoned sought out their parents. Bloodlines were n't that hard to follow, not since generational life insurance policies were enacted. An underground league of blood spies searched the International Lineage Networks, finding'lost loved ones'.
Now eighteen, Colin had received his report: his parents were high school sweethearts, just like before. It took him a couple months to track them down.
Through his sniper scope, he watched as they sat in the school's vacant football field, cooing and nuzzling, ignoring their lunch. Pop! Pop! Each of their heads exploded like balloons filled with cherry aspic.
Oh yeah, this is a day Colin will restart over and over and over and over and...
*spelling
|
[ WP ] The aliens we made first contact with lived entirely on tasteless , simple food . So enamored with our food , we 've found that we can even control them with our supreme culinary prowess . You have a couple alien friends , but you also happen to be a terrible cook .
| I knew I could not cook, but I did not sweat it. The door bell rang, and I was so excited. I opened the door and let my two gooey one eyed companions in. They were so glad that they did not even notice my baseball bat. I swung. They were mine now. All mine
The two alien awoke to `` gourmet'' jellybeans. They stuffed themselves, those crude idiotic blobs. Smiling they commented on how strange human customs were. That was quite funny, considering what I really had planned. I laughed at them.
Three weeks later, they were still strapped to their places and woke up, ate, then slept. Jellybeans were their every waking hour. They lived jellybeans loved jelly beans, breathed jelly beans.
On their ninth week they realized what I was doing, but they were powerless. I laughed at them as I broke their jaw hinges. Now they ca n't complain, so all was wondrous again.
By the next week they went on a jellybean strike, but I knew that would not last long, considering how attached to the food they were.
I broke their jaws, their life, their will. They were now truly mine.
Two years just flew by, my little companions were so entertaining. But the little trick was starting to get old. I grew tired, so I decided to spice things up once again. I starved them. Then, I told them the only way to get their food was to beat one another up. The winner would eat. However, that little contest would be way too boring, so I then sawed off each of their four legs. I then let them at each other. They sprang like animals, biting punching each other. It was a slow process, them having no legs and little energy. But that made it all the more worth while. I was even kind of sad when finally the weaker of the two was knocked out. I knew I needed more. So then, I spiced things up again. I told the still barely conscience one that in order to get his meal he would have to kill his best alien friend. He was shocked. I laughed again.
So, I prepared the murder for him slowly. I handed the syringe filled with black licorice to the victorious alien. The loser alien then woke up, only awake enough to see his own friend inject the deadly dose of jelly beans into his body. He died shortly, but boy was it massively entertaining.
The alien that was still alive cried, making inaudible noise for his jaw was broken after all. He demanded his jelly beans. It was not polite enough. His attitude was simply unacceptable. So I kicked him in the gut. I threw him against the wall and told him to be polite. HE WAS THEN KNOCKED OUT. HE COULD NOT PERFORM THE TASK OF ASKING NICELY. HE HAD TO BE KILLED AT ONCE FOR HIS BRUTAL MISBEHAVIOR.
Boy did I love that experience. But I would not miss it. It was a lot of work. Jellybeans are costly after all. I ate my dinner slowly, savoring every bite. Alien flesh tasted so good. I knew it was all worth it. Even though I could not cook well, I knew not to sweat it from the beginning. My plan had been a great success after all.
Did I write it correctly BookWyrm17? What do you think about it? I think I did it pretty well!
r/jesuschristreddit
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[ WP ] Medical technology has become too good . People are living too long . The never-ending pensions are bankrupting the country . You are a master assassin working for the government to help ease the burden on the economy . Your only instruction : make it look like an accident .
| One billion dollars to kill one billion people. That was the hardest contract in my whole life.
Let's start from the beginning. Technology in the US was in all time high, medicine was really good and really cheap, long story short, people were n't dying anymore and that was bad.
I was hired by the comission of president Trump, the US had 2 billion citzens, and Mr Trump wanted half of them gone.
I accepted the contract more as a challenge really. Could I kill 1 billion people and make it like an accident?
I started by the obvious. I infiltrated the command tower of an airport, I gave the officers in the area some slipping pills, putting in their coffe. After they were asleep I scrambled the plane's routes. I locked the door and left to watch the fireworks from the distance. With the number of plains I can say that I killed around 20 thousand people.
Next target was a train going to NYC. This plan was more elaborate. Not only did I take of the breakes of the train but I also disguised myself as worker from the station broke the rails near the plataform. I made a sort of ramp with them. The train arrived, got off the rails and into the plataform killing a lot of people. The station then started to crumble after the train hit some supports, it was n't pretty and it was rush hour so I got around 500 thousand people. It was good, but not enough I had to step up my game.
The next target was when things got serious, a well known rapper was performing in LA. He was going to play indoors and he had sold 40 million tickets for the show. I did the simple thing, I infiltrated the kitchen area, knocked out the cooks and dumped a lot of propane tanks around the kitchen, and then I allowed their gas to go the stage. I called the police acting as a cook and talked about a gas leak. It worked like a charm, after I left the singer asked his fans the raise their lighters, the explosion was bigger than I thought it took the 40 million in the show plus 60 million from the area around it.
100 million still was n't enough. But I had the ultimate idea. I asked Mr Trump for access to one of his plane carriers and 50 megaton bomb, Trump trusted me, I had done a lot to him by now and he was kind of dumb, so he gave me without a second thought. After that it was simple. I flied the plane to Washington DC, where it had an `` engine'' accident and fell down. The bomb exploded and 980 million people died, I was able to kill more than a billion people.
You might ask yourself now, `` but why did you attack washington? You killed the president and you were n't paid!'' The answer is I did it because I could do it. President Trump was a dick and I got him to let his guard down. And the money? Well there were a lot of bounties on the president's head and someone has to collect them right? Never trust someone that only thinks about money kid, that's a life lesson
|
[ WP ] I just learned what a drabble is . A drabble is an extremely short work of fiction of exactly one hundred words in length . So , let 's drabble .
| “ We ’ re gon na die up here. ”
“ You don ’ t know that ”
“ Look at that, who could possibly have survived ”
“ Have faith, we don ’ t know what happened, they may have been ready ”
“ Ready for that? How could anyone be ready for that? There was no warning doc, no advanced notice. They surprised us, they came out of nowhere, and we ’ re stuck up here and can ’ t do anything. Hell, we are probably the last ones left ”.
“ Billions dead, and we just happened to be lucky enough to be on the moon? ”
“ I don ’ t know if I ’ d call it lucky ”.
“ God, we ’ re going to die ”.
|
[ WP ] You drug someone in a bar , to try to steal their organs ... And then discover they have none .
| As Mark stumbled his way to the men's room, I made my move. I faked right. Retrieving my wallet, I pulled it out for it's attention. A bartender always notices when someone is ready to pay... He begins circling his wet towel around my area.
`` Can I get you another?'' the bartender asks.
`` Yeah, sure. Another round for the both of us,'' I respond while reaching in my left pocket.
I make a move with my wallet again, flipping it open while I drop a perfect *dunk* in Mark's half full glass with the left. `` Here you go, close it out, would ya?''
`` Sure thing, boss,'' the bartender smiles big.
Mark returns to find another full drink waiting for his help with disposal. I encourage him to quickly finish the one remaining before it becomes warm. We leave the bar with his final drink still half full. I do n't mind.
Back in my Lincoln Navigator, the drug takes effect on Mark and his face rests nearly in his lap if it were n't for the seat belt.
I arrive back to my house and head down to my basement. I turn on the fluorescent's and prep the table. I return to the car, throw Mark's arm around my shoulder and drag him in. I throw the slab on the table. Wasting no time, I begin my incision.
``... Hmm. Look's like you already had one of your kidney's removed, eh Mark?'' I rhetorically ask. I remind myself to ask more relevant questions to my future target's about their past medical history.
`` Wait... Mark! Where the hell is your other one!?'' Once again asking a question that can not be answered by Mark or logic in that instance. I reach for his pants on the tiled floor. I pull out his wallet and find his ID card.
`` *Mark Michaels... 09/24/83... 423 W. Rio Bravo Dr... *'' I scroll down the card.
The organ donor sticker is not there!
`` Well Mark, you are literally just a little more than an asshole.''
|
[ WP ] The phone rings . You look at the caller ID and recognize the number of your childhood home . You pick up the phone and recognize the voice . It was yours when you were a kid .
| I glanced at the clock again. 1:05 am.
Only four more hours until i'm free to leave this hell of a job. I put my head in my hands and rubbed my temples, willing my eyes to focus again after staring at the monitor for three hours.
`` Mike!'' the shrill voice of Laura popped my small bubble of tranquility, `` You better not be sleeping Mr. Chate.''
`` Headache, Miss. I'm alright.'' I went back to typing numbers off the clipboard in front of me into the computer.
`` I hope you get better. I expect you to finish inventory tonight.''
*Yes your majesty. * `` Yes ma'am.''
She stalked away to torment some other poor coworker. Probably the janitor, she likes making him clean the toilets several times a night. It's too bad, Jack actually keeps the restrooms very clean, but Laura ca n't seem to deal with having an honest hardworking employee.
I peek at the clock again and groan. 1:06.
The buzzing of my phone pulls me out of my haze. I recognize the number but I ca n't quite place it. 484-7968. That's... my phone number from when I was a kid. The house I grew up in, I remember my mom turning the number into a sing so i'd remember it once I started school.
*'' Okay, you ready Michael?'' Mom smiled at me in the rear-view mirror. `` You know the phone number? `` *
*'' Yup! 484-7968, now Mi-chael can call home, great! `` *
*'' Good job rocket boy, remember that. If anything happens you call me, okay? `` *
*'' Okay mama. `` *
I answered the phone.
`` Hello, is this the North Pole?''
I dropped the phone.
I recognized the voice.
I recognized *my* voice.
No, that's not possible. This is n't some Hallmark Christmas tale, this is real life. I'm working on Christmas eve... actually Christmas morning now. I'm not getting a call from Christmas past here, i'm getting a call from some kid, all kids sounds pretty much alike on the phone.
I picked the phone back up, still somewhat shaken.
`` Hello? Mister Claus?''
I managed to choke out a reply.
`` Yes, this is Santa.''
`` It is! Hi Santa, you do n't sound old.'' I could hear the smile in his voice.
`` I'm younger than most people think. What can I do for you kid?''
`` Mama said maybe I could call about my Christmas list this year. She said she was n't sure if you would be able to talk, I know you're very busy.''
`` Well, it is Christmas Eve.'' I chuckled despite the unimaginable conversation taking place. `` What did you want to ask for?''
`` I want to see the future.'' I froze.
`` What future?''
`` My future silly!'' I could hear his laughter, gentle and innocent.
`` You want to know your future?''
`` Yeah! Do I get rocket boots?''
Part of me wanted to tell him things to make his life better. Do the things I did n't do. Be good to mom. Convince her not to take that trip to California. Get the pipe in the wall repaired before it bursts. Do n't date Luna Prince in the 11th grade or she'll tell the school you have lice. Do n't take the year off after high school to travel, start working so you can save up for that engineering school. Dad is lying, he's not saving the money, it's all gone. Do n't work ungodly hours to pay the bills. Do n't hate yourself for getting caught in the vicious cycle of go to school so you can work and work so you can go to school.
Do n't be me. Do n't be me. Do n't be me.
He was still talking about rocket boots and race cars when I interrupted him to answer.
`` Slow down kid,'' I tried to think about what I was going to say.
I could n't tell a kid that his life was going to get worse from here. Sure, people could use a nice dose of reality... but not when they're five.
`` Okay bud, I ca n't tell you much, but I can tell you a little.'' I heard a small squeal of excitement and could n't help but smile. `` Your future... is whatever you want it to be. You can do anything you dream of.''
`` Can I have rocket boots?''
`` Absolutely. Do good in school, study hard and go to college, and make them yourself, you hear me? You can be the inventor that gives every kid on the planet rocket books. Heck, you could take my place and become a new Santa if you did that.'' I could feel his smile through the phone. `` But I want you to remember something. Everything you do, do it for yourself. Be the best person you can be at everything. Be kind. Be good. Be strong, Most importantly,'' I took a deep breath, `` do n't ever let anyone else slow you down. You go out and make the world work for you, do n't just work for the world.'' I knew half of this would n't even register with him, but saying it made me feel like I could make a real difference. As if I could give this kid the chance I did n't have.
It was silent for a while before he answered. `` Okay Santa, i'll be good. And smart. And the other things you said.'' I smiled.
`` Good to hear, kid.'' there was the soft noise of rustling from the other end, and then the sound of a bed creaking.
`` Sorry Santa, I think mama heard me and i'm not allowed to use the phone.'' I laughed.
`` I get it, Goodnight kid.''
`` Goodnight Santa!'' I lowered the phone before I had a sudden thought.
`` Hey kid, give your mama a hug every day too. Be good to her, you hear me?''
`` I will Santa.'' He hung up.
I stared at my phone for a while before I looked back up at the monitor and began typing more numbers. I glanced at the clock. 1:08 am.
I groaned and dropped my head onto the desk.
--
The door creaked open as he lay frozen under his blankets, pretending to be asleep but forgetting that sleeping people breathe too.
`` Boy I know you're awake, you were talking on that phone again were n't you.'' She turned the room light on as a gentle sigh came from under the blankets.
`` Yes mama.'' He sheepishly held out the phone for her to take back. She looked down at it and laughed a little.
`` Why did you call the house phone silly?''
`` It's the only phone number I know.''
*Of course* she thought with a smile.
`` Talk to anyone interesting?''
`` Yeah!'' he popped up in the bed, `` I talked to Santa!''
`` Santa?'' she asked confused, `` well what did he say?'' In response he wrapped her up in his small arms and lay his head on her shoulder.
`` He told me to be good and hug you.'' She hugged her son tightly to her.
`` That Santa is a smart man, `` she laughed, `` but now you got ta go to bed baby.'' She wrapped him back in the blankets and kissed him on the forehead. `` It's way past bedtime for you and me.''
`` Goodnight mama,'' he whispered sleepily.
Mama went to the door and turned the light off, smiling into the dark.
`` Goodnight rocket boy.''
|
[ WP ] You ca n't kill me , not today .
| They ca n't see me
They ca n't see me
Their children gone
Oh, so dreamy
Every single one
They yell and cry
And scream my name
They hunt with flame
And want me to die
They ca n't see me
But they chase me
Over land and over sea
The stormy rainy sea
Finally on a foggy meadow
I want to rest but see a shadow
The hunters come with sword and flame
Where they suspect the one to blame
They yell my name once more
With all those throats oh so sore
I leave my camp and try to flee
Afraid of them for now they see
I leave the fog and the meadow
Not taking my eyes from their shadow
They're searching with a dying flame
And in the fog they scream my name
|
[ WP ] You know the time of your death -- but not the date .
| 2:23 P.M.
The exact time I will die.
How do I know this? There's not really much to explain. One day I woke up and just knew, though I only know the time, not the date or the circumstances.
It has, obviously, been a major point of anxiety for me in the years since. I'm on multiple anxiety and depression pills, and both `` disorders'' prevent me from working, so I'm on disability. I live with my grandfather who lets me rent a room from him as long as I help with groceries and the bills. I lived with my mom for a while, but eventually she got tired of my anxiety and depression `` flaring up'' in the afternoon.
I've tried doing things to distract me, like dating or going to college. I dropped out of college when I could n't focus on my homework anymore, and boyfriends would break up with me after they watched a panic attack. I've tried making peace with death, but it's so hard when you know at least a piece of when it's coming. I used to have a timer set for ten minutes before so I could prepare myself, but the alarm would give me more anxiety.
So I've given up. I wake up early with Grandpa, make us breakfast, and run errands as quickly as I can so that I can make it home before my time of death. Every day, he tells me I can stay out as long as I want, that he does n't need me to take care of him, and it's true, I know it is. I know he does n't need me. But my coming home is more for me than him.
Today, I am running late with the groceries. I come into the front door like a blur, grocery bags lining my arms as I hobble into the door.
`` Need some help?'' Grandpa asks me, bumbling over to me as fast as he can. I smile at him between labored breaths. `` Nope! I got it all, thanks though.''
I hurry into the kitchen and begin sorting through plastic bags as quickly as I can. The clock on the wall is marked 2:07. I want to be in my room soon for the inevitable panic attack.
`` Katie? Katie!'' Grandpa calls. I poke my head around the kitchen wall that divides the kitchen from the living room where he is watching T.V.
`` Yes, sir?'' I ask. He motions for me to come over with his hand. I set the box of cereal on the kitchen table, and hurry over. `` What is it?''
`` Sit down, Katie. All that stuff can wait,'' he waves me over to the easy chair across from him. I begin to protest, and he gives me a stern look.
My Grandpa fought in Vietnam. He was n't a decorated soldier or anything, but I've heard a lot of the horrors soldiers experienced in that time, and the sheer number of soldiers who died. I've always wondered what happened to him over there, but have never wanted to ask. I drop down into the plush leather chair, and turn my eyes to watch the T.V. and the digital clock displayed on the cable box.
Grandpa is watching some C.S.I. inspired show. Two detectives on the screen are arguing how to approach a case when their boss walks in to talk to them.
`` Katie, I'm sorry if this comes across as rude, but you are so *lame*.'' He gives me a stern look, and returns his gaze to the T.V. I am taken aback.
`` Lame? What do you mean?'' I ask. He turns to me again, laughing. `` Katie, I'm seventy-six years old, and you're, what, twenty now? I've lived my life, and I know that you are n't living yours, and I just ca n't figure out why.''
The clock shows 2:13. Anxiety grips my chest. Maybe ten minutes left to live, and I'm spending it arguing with my Grandpa. `` Grandpa, I'm happy, really I am, it's just my anxiety --''
`` Bullshit. Anxiety, depression, whatever, it does n't matter at all. You have the means to overcome it, and you should.'' Though his words are somewhat insensitive, I understand what he's trying to say.
He lectures me for several agonizing minutes. Lectures me about the harms that can come from not living. How he passed up an excellent job in his late twenties that would've resulted in him being a millionaire right now, how he and Grandma never went on vacation and how he regrets it because she's gone now. The clock reads 2:20.
I grip the edges of the chair tightly as he continues to lecture me. On the T.V., the two detectives have located the murderer. They are yelling at him to drop his weapon and release his hostage. He is refusing.
`` Katie,'' Grandpa begins, more gentle this time,'' it is impossible to know how much time we have. Grandma tried to make the best of her time, but I was concerned with money and saving. Do n't let you -- or me, or your mom, come between you living your life.''
One of the detectives points his weapon, and the suspect tries to shoot him. The detective is faster, and pulls the trigger. A loud gunshot, and the suspect falls. 2:23 P.M.
I am crying and shaking in my seat, and Grandpa stands out of his chair to approach me. He fumbles for the cordless phone on the nearby table to call 911. He has never seen me have a panic attack.
I try to breathe, but there is too much stimuli. Grandpa is barking into the phone, detectives and police officers on T.V. are searching the building for the hostage. I am writhing and crying on the ground, having flung myself out of the chair onto the carpet.
I am alive. For now.
|
[ WP ] It 's 3:35 am . You wake up to the sound of sirens , and your phone dings . You check it to see a text message saying `` Last bookings for the escape spaceships close at 3:50 am . ''
| Part two, as requested. I was n't sure where to put this, so I'm just going to comment a second time.
-- -
We started our way slowly through the tunnels. I ca n't say I was pleased to be following a crack-pot around, but at least he was n't wearing tin foil on his head. Yet. We twisted and turned in the tunnels, and I waited for the moment when he would announce we had made it to the end. Instead, he tilted a hand drawn map this way and that. I was n't sure where he had procured it from. He had said they did n't know the way out, so what was with the map, anyways? It seemed to me we were lost. I did n't say anything though, as these might be the last people left in our town. A familiar sound echoed around us. We all froze in our tracks.
`` Is that the sound of a baby's cry?'' The teenage girl whispered. We all exchanged uneasy glances between us. She instinctively started towards it, and I grabbed her arm.
`` Do n't.'' I whispered to her. My voice was harsher than I intended it to be. I saw tears in her eyes and she scowled at me for a heated second. The look melted away. Her eyes grew distant and misty.
`` What if it's my baby sister?'' She barely managed to say the words, her throat was so tight. I felt my eyes close. This was worse than finding survivors after a tornado. Worse than seeing mangled bodies on the road. This was real, I had to tell myself. We were being hunted. This was n't a freak accident like a twister. My heart hardened a little. A gentle voice softly spoke.
`` No, child. We have to assume the worst, and that's that they're going to use anything against us. We have to be prepared for any tricks they might throw at us. I'm sorry, dear. Your sister is gone.'' It was Ed speaking softly, gently to her. His eyes were wide and piercing as he stared at her. Her small frame began to shake. The sound of crying was edging our way, and I felt my eyebrows come together. My heart hammered a little bit.
Suddenly she was gone. In a flash she had torn herself from my grasp, and was running down the corridor. My arm remained raised in an awkward fashion.
`` Stupid kid.'' I muttered. I almost started after her when we all heard the scream. It was cut short and the crying stopped. Then we heard footsteps. We all shined lights down the black corridor of the sewer. Her small body was crawling towards us. She was sobbing. One of her eyes were a sickening blue, I saw it glowing faintly, first, before I saw the outstretched and twitching hand. She was still sobbing, but her tears were orange. She coughed up the viscous liquid, now bright orange, and burning on the ground. We all took a step back.
`` P-please. It... hurts.'' She whispered once. The emphasis on the last word turned my blood cold. Her hair was turning white with the rest of her. I wanted to end her misery, when she simply froze up. The change overtook her, and she lay on the ground. Motionless. My flight or fight was taking over, and I rocketed away from the safety of the others. I did n't care if I was with them or not, I was not being captured by those... those things. I heard shouts behind me, but I ignored them. When did I get so worked up? How did this happen? Just hours ago, I was safe at home, preparing for work. It was unreal.
I turned this way and that, darting around corners as silently as possible. If they got the girl, surely they were looking for other survivors. I wished I had listened to that text message last night. I wish I had found those escape spaceships. But no, I was a stubborn man, set in my own path. How I regretted it now.
My face smacked into something, solid, metal. For a fleeting moment, I thought it was them. I looked up, shielding my face. I felt my lungs release as I realized with a slow familiarity that it was just a ladder. I hauled my ass up it and opened the man hole cover. Had I hit a dead end? I looked around cautiously. With a start, I realized where I was. I was in a suburb on the outskirts of town. This was perfect. I could high tail it up the hills! I would be safe!
I felt a ping of regret. I had left the others down there, with them. I shoved that thought down deep, I did n't have time for regret. Not today. I stepped out into the light, carelessly throwing the man hole cover aside. It scraped loudly on asphalt. Without looking back, I tore through yards and across sidewalks, dead set on protecting myself. Maybe those other people would find their way out. I had hope for them, I did. My self preservation always won out in tense situations. That's why my wife left me. We were both hurting and to preserve myself, my sanity, I had filed the divorce papers. How I had missed her.
I turned a corner and felt my breath hitch in my throat. It was one of those machines, collecting from a family in a mini-van. I had nowhere to hide, not really. The hedges were all trimmed so short I would have to lay down to hide. Well, that's exactly what I did. I did an awkward army crawl forward, my body tense. I got a good look at the machine and with a jolt, realized there were beings inside. They did n't see me, but I got a good, close look at the life forms.
They were rather small, with a mottled olive skin tone. They could n't have been larger than a grey hound dog. Large, grey warts peppered their skin, and on the ends of their faces were dark brown beaks. The eyes were ever colorful, changing from magenta, to orange, to blue, green and back. Two of them sat in the front seat of the machine. I noticed their clothing, dark red jackets, with some sort of insignia on the chest. They wore black gloves, and had four arms. They were spindly little fuckers, but I wanted nothing to do with them. I heard the whirring of the drone like'wings' atop the vehicle. They flew a short ways, passed me, and landed again, at another home. This one had four kids all running to the car, each with an expression of horror frozen on their features.
I took the opportunity to get away as fast as I could. I hid myself for as long as I had the hedge. Then I darted to the house as quickly as my legs would carry me. It was n't too long before I was huffing. I really was out of shape. I flattened myself against the siding, taking a breather. I heard more machines in the distance, but I was n't too worried. The'burbs were n't too populated, so I doubted they spent much time here. I waited for a minutes, before dashing to the next house. Further and further I went, looking at the treeline with a long-fullness I did n't know I could possess. I made it to the last house left. My heart was a jack hammer in my throat.
I ran. I ran and ran and did n't look back. I was mighty terrified, but I did what I had to. I left everything, I left everyone, and I abandoned myself to the wilds. It was n't long before I hit the shrubbery, and then a welcoming blanket of firs and pines enveloped me. Still, I did not slow. I had to get away.
I had traveled quite a ways when I realized how thirsty I was, how much my throat was burning, and how much darker it was becoming. Using what I had learned from the boy scouts, I made a shelter, with no fire, and huddled inside it. Hiding, still. It was another day before I could move again, as those monstrosities had lumbered into the forest, looking for prey. They did n't take the animals, but they were searching for people. They had passed by without really noticing my little pile of sticks. I was petrified.
Somehow, I managed to find a small stream and followed it uphill. I satiated my thirst and stuck to what I knew. Squirrels were good meat, if I could trap them. I found grubs to eat and the trees were teeming with pine nuts. I felt like a wild man. My beard had grown thicker, my hair a little longer, and my body a little leaner. The stream widened and turned into a river, which I found to have certain types of small fish in. I stayed with it, living from it, and I grew closer to the wilderness. The sudden change in my way of life changed me for the better. I became patient, soft spoken, and revered all that nature had to offer.
It's been months now, since I've seen a patrol. Those greedy bastards really wanted to wipe us out. Despite their best efforts, I found others, like me, living in the wilds. We started a little'clan', if you will and we made ourselves a leader. Me? I'm living as one of the best hunters of the tribe. I've been given my own hearth in a large cave we share. There's only six of us now, but that's five more than I had hoped for. Our lives are simple, and often filled with fear, but we are survivors. We are hunters. We will never be prey.
I still think of home. I miss the bed, the coffee machine, and hot showers. While I have grown fond of my new home, there's no wifi, no television, and no radio. We have but the babble of the river, the wind in the trees, and the occasional clank of machinery as those things search for us. We are living a wholesome life, in touch with our mother earth again.
Although, there's not a day that goes by, that I do n't think of how much I'd kill for a cheeseburger.
-- -
Not sure that's where I wanted to take this, but there it is! Hope you enjoyed this a little!
|
[ WP ] An immortal trying to find a way to die to be reunited with Death - the immortal 's love .
| The piano's keys hammered out a melody,
an enigmatic, haunting dirge, a eulogy without words
my fingers wrote, the air, their pages.
The ash from my cigarette graces my pants with a visit,
`` what harm is smoking when you never die?'' And I,
I've never died, though I've tried.
All the king's horses and all the king's men,
could n't tear me asunder, could n't snuff out my flame.
My tune draws to a close,
I stand, to a standing ovation from a single uninvited guest.
I turn, and nearly die from shock. Ha!
Death stands watching amidst the empty tables, the barren chairs,
He'd always indulged in dramatic flair.
Tal and spindly, in pinstripe suit, hair impeccable, well groomed,
my heart reached to him, and my feet followed suit.
We embraced amidst the haze and heat,
The glow of flames, choking smoke,
`` What harm is smoking when you ca n't die?''
I had to try.
The building ablaze, Death claimed me at last.
|
[ WP ] An outside hire is brought in as the new office manager , to try and turn around a dysfunctional business . The existing staff are definitely on the strange side .
| `` Uh, what do you mean ghosts?'' Daniel Ross asked while scribbling furiously in his notepad.
`` Well, those are n't the problem. There are only about ten of them, if you include the history professor. I'm much more worried about the werewolf, suspected war criminal, and the old man with a love for manacles as punishment for children.'' said Aurora Sinistra, the astronomy professor.
The interview was not going well. Daniel Ross was brought in to fix dysfunctional workplaces and had dealt with idiocy, incompetence, ignorance, and complete disregard for common sense many times. But talking with the seemingly most sane person in Hogwarts was getting a bit trying. The headmaster was some kind of lunatic to let things go on like this for decades. Daniel was grasping at straws to see if there was a way to improve Hogwarts that did n't involve razing it.
`` Is there a normal person on staff?'' He asked.
`` Well, the goblin is a decent sort, as is the seventy year old cat lady. Oh, and the racist billionaire on the board of directors has a sharp wit and nice hair, I suppose.'' replied Aurora.
`` I'll look into some changes in the staff and board of directors. I'll have to start from scratch there. How about the school itself?''
`` To be perfectly honest, the moving staircases are a problem.''
*Moving staircases? * Daniel could n't help but write that down and underline it a few times. That sounded like something extremely dangerous. Especially with young children all around. It would cost a lot to renovate an ancient castle, but perhaps it was n't quite as bad as it sounded. He took in a deep breath and counted to ten slowly in his head.
`` Is the problem with kids getting lost or unable to reach class?'' Daniel inquired with renewed calm.
`` Oh no, the trick stairs cause some serious injuries. We just punish the students for being late.'' Answered the professor, as if it was obvious.
`` But the castle can make them late!''
`` It's tradition. Like the four houses.''
`` Four houses?'' Daniel was almost too afraid to ask.
This was the worst case of criminal neglect he had seen in a business. While he had seen places that were run badly, this was the first time he had met a location which actively tried to throw children down stairs or plunge to their doom. Aurora, whom at the start seemed to be quite normal and rather attractive, was talking as if none of this was a big deal. That was somehow more disturbing than obvious insanity.
`` Well, the school is divided into four houses. Friendly competition and all that.'' She said.
`` That sounds... odd. I suppose the competition does help with the academic standards.''
The astronomy teacher snickered at that.
`` Gods no. They sabotage each other all the time and makes it near impossible to study. It sharpens their dueling skills.'' Aurora replied, obviously having a hard time not laughing.
`` Dueling?'' Daniel's face scrunched up at that.
`` Yeah, students blast each other all the time. It's a good laugh for us in the staff room, and only *rarely* leaves them hospitalized. Not like Quidditch.''
`` Quidditch? Well, thank god you do n't have that if it's more dangerous than children blowing up one another.''
`` Of course we have it. It's not quite common when children end up with all bones removed, plunge from extreme heights with no safety nets, or get hit with heavy iron balls at extreme velocities at higher altitudes.''
`` ARE YOU KIDDING ME? How often do these things happen?''
`` Well... removal of bones was last year, plunging from heights this year, and the heavy iron balls happens quite frequently - it's part of the game.''
At this point, Daniel had decided that everyone here was crazy. No wonder this place was bleeding money. It sounded like the hospital wing was a constantly full trauma ward. Or perhaps an asylum infirmary. More likely both. So, replacing the staff, restructuring the school system, and changing the interior design, changing the sports curriculum. A tall order, but not impossible. He had his work cut out for him.
`` Moving on. The grounds, surely they are well taken care of.'' Daniel stated, clearly hoping that not phrasing it as a question would make it true. The grounds around the castle did look magnificent.
`` Of course they are. There are only a few deadly animals here.''
`` A few? Deadly?'' Daniel did n't notice the cold sweat starting to gather on his brow.
`` Well... there was a sixty foot basilisk, I already mentioned the werewolf, the giant squid, gigantic spiders who love human flesh, soul-sucking demons that do n't usually attack the children, hippogriffs, a cerberus or two, really, anything our groundskeeper likes tends to create horrible deaths in some cases.'' It looked like Aurora had trouble stopping herself from making that list longer - she noticed that Daniel's eyes were becoming rather unfocussed.
`` Groundskeeper?'' He all but whimpered, not sure of what madness to expect.
`` Half giant. Rather slow, loves extremely dangerous beasts and grows them illegally. A dragon as the last one, if you believe the rumors... it's highly illegal but would be perfectly in character for him. He means well though. Even though he takes the children to the forbidden forest all the time.''
`` Forbidden forest... that does n't sound too inviting.''
`` It is n't. That's why it's forbidden. Really dangerous place. Children get killed there. And there are the centaurs with... you know... a tendency towards doing the stuff that centaurs do with women. Children only rarely sneak out there, and they are usually supervised when sent there.''
`` USUALLY?!'' He spat out, outraged.
`` Well, we have to split them up into small groups when looking for things, do n't we?''
At this point, the man was questioning if there was ever a sane person to see this place, *ever*. The list of `` deadly dangers'' was already spanning two pages, the list of `` staff to replace'' was growing by the second, but it seemed that the entire place lacked not only common sense, but the common courtesy towards anyone in their right mind. But what was far worse was that the staff seemed to think that risking children's lives was just how things are supposed to be. He thought that perhaps what this place *really* needed was a psychologist. Or eight. And perhaps one for him.
`` OK, allow me to rephrase my lines of inquiry differently. Is there something or even someone here that *can't* kill a student?'' Pleaded Daniel, at this point far beyond keeping his hopes up.
`` Well, the cat lady does n't seem the type. The rest do tend to send the children on excessively dangerous things. The suspected war criminal actually does a good job at keeping them safe in something as dangerous as potions.''
`` How is potions dangerous?'' The fact that *suspected war criminal* did n't even register until after the question caught Daniel off guard.
`` Think of it as chemistry, only with magic and particularly explosive and/or poisonous materials. Handled by kids who do n't bother studying enough. We have a betting pool as to how long it takes before the war criminal snaps and starts murdering everyone. So far it seems like the divination professor is closest - in three years or so is her guess.''
`` Ah, that makes things better. Divination means that she can know who is at risk and then you can mitigate the deadly risks here. I thought you were all insane for a while.'' Daniel knew that at this point, it was most likely false hope, because giving children poisons and explosives when they have a proclivity for blowing up one another was making his brain hurt.
`` Oh, we're quite fine. The divination professor is insane. And an alcoholic. And that incense in her classroom covers up more than just tobacco, if you catch my drift.'' Replied the professor.
`` Weed? You have an alcoholic professor who smokes weed *in class*?''
`` We wish. My money's on crack. Still, at least it's not dangerous as what happens in the greenhouses.''
Daniel was quite sure that this could n't be good. It was obvious that everyone here was certifiable. The sheer amount of *how the hell do things like this happen* was an affront to sanity. Fixing this would require money he was n't sure actually existed. The thought of razing the place not being quite enough entered his mind. Sure, they agreed to pay an exorbitant amount of money to the firm in order to fix this place, but he had a creeping sensation that this would be the first thing he could n't help with.
`` Please do n't tell me that the professor is half-banshee.'' He whispered.
`` That's preposterous. Banshees and humans ca n't interbreed. Though some of the plants kill if you hear them scream, so you were kind of close on that point. Still, not nearly as common as the ones that just strangle people to death.'' said Aurora.
`` Plants that scream?''
`` Oh yeah, they look like little babies. We teach the kids how to cut them up. We give them protective gear for their ears though.''
`` You... teach... children... to... cut... up... BABIES?''
`` No, just things that *look* like babies.''
At this point, Daniel threw down his notepad, and just kept silent. There was no way that he could deal with the amount of crazy here. Actually, he was n't sure he was n't crazy anymore. Surely, there had to be better things to do with his life.
Aurora called a house elf. When she explained that they were a slave race, he just walked away. Nothing would be enough to make Hogwarts sane, let alone a proper business.
|
[ WP ] While investigating the bees vanishing across the globe , the protagonist stumbles upon a truth that could change the shape of reality .
| The words “ colony collapse ” have taken on a whole new meaning over the last few months, it started with the bees, and that was weird enough for most people, mass populations of bees dropping out of the air, so many crops lost because we had no way to pollinate them, mass starvation even in wealthy western countries. Of course there was also the cotton shortage, it still amazes me that with everything else going on, people were hit so hard by that. A third of the Earth ’ s population in jeopardy of starving to death, and what is everyone freaking out about?, the scarcity of designer skinny jeans,... spawned quite the black market trade for awhile.
Of course as an Environmental Etymologist this was no surprise to me, I ’ ve been studying bee die-offs for 15 years. I tried to sound the warning bell, we all did, endless research papers, conference talks, even the occasional radio or television interview, but by the time the message was taken seriously, it was already too late.
The tipping point was NOSOI inc., their new range of pesticides promised a much more cost effective way to control Aphid populations, however after later investigations it was revealed that testing indicated a possible high risk for exposure, and toxicity to bee populations too. After years of expensive research and development, NOSOI had too much riding on their new product line to let it be shut down by regulations, so they buried the research and released the product.
Within three months almost all the bee colonies within the Continental US, mainland Europe, China, and Russia were dead, food prices soared, and the global economy collapsed.
As bad as it was, this was all within our expectations for a mass colony collapse scenario, what we didn ’ t expect was what happened next, thousands of people worldwide started dying from an as yet unclassified neurological disorder, confusion, loss of control of motor-function, quickly followed by death.
The truly incredible part, was not how many people were dying, or how they were dying, but *who* was dying. Politicians, Wall Street CEOs, high ranking Police and Military, Silicon Valley tech billionaires, even some religious leaders and cultural figures, literally everyone who died from Morel ’ s syndrome was a notable figure in business, politics or culture.
Some of my colleagues were even asked to consult of a few autopsy reports. Who would you call if you found a three inch seed-shaped mass in the prefrontal cortex of almost every major influential figure on earth?
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[ WP ] In 2025 , the mission Mars One is a full success . Upon arrival on the red planet , the astronauts notice some kind of cave , containing a single human skeleton – and four words , carved into a wall .
| He was rather well-preserved, his body protected from the harsh Martian climate in a strange-looking spacesuit. Alone, he sat, against the wall of the cave, covered in thick sheets of dust though the cave's interior was remarkably still.
The nervous Martian colonists funneled in. Jan, recognized by the group as their `` leader'' in the closest capacity Mars could be said to have one, led the small party into the cave with cautious, controlled pace. Diagrams and charts littered the floor, also coated in heavy, red dust. Boxes and consoles with faded screens and panels watched the cave's intruders in silence. The silence was palpable; the tension, unbearable.
`` Someone get Ground on the line,'' Jan ordered, and one colonist quickly shuffled out of the cave to comply.
`` Will ya look at this,'' one started. Jan turned around and saw a colonist had begun rifling through the papers and charts across the floor. The one he was holding looked to be a picture of Earth. Eons of aging had faded the sheet considerably, and yet, somehow, it was recognizable. The blue marble, riddled with swirls of green... a home they'd never return to.
`` Here's a diagram of human anatomy,'' another added, and Jan saw this one had indeed found an illustration of the human body.
`` And look at this!'' Shouted a third, gesturing to something that appeared to be a message scrawled into the wall. Four words, written in an alien text.
`` Quick, somebody, go run a scan on the papers found here, and have that imported to data management. Maybe we can crack this code,'' Jan ordered, and the group set in motion.
Jan walked over and regarded the corpse once more. *A lifetime stuck on this planet, but at least we've got company now, * she thought. With a heavy sigh, a tear dropped to the front of her helmet. *Neither of us are leaving this rock, * she added, and began to mull over it all. She'd die on the big, red rock, like this man had millions of years before her.
But none of the colonists knew that the deceased landed on Mars with a mission much braver than their own. A mission of solitude, an ensured lonely death. Millions of years prior, as the scientist in the cave breathed his final breaths, he looked over the machine's readings again and again, content to see that finally the seeds of humanity were growing in a planet besides their doomed homeworld. He approached the wall, and scrawled *Humanity on Earth: Growing, * before collapsing to the floor from the sickness that had consumed their planet. 200,000 seeding attempts, and finally a success. Their species would be saved.
The scientist died with a contented sigh, much like the one Jan breathed over his body in a time far, far away. Jan knew this discovery was *huge. * And yet, she had no idea how truly right she was.
|
[ EU ] Freddy Kreuger deeply regrets entering the dreams of his latest intended victim - The Joker
| Freddy Kreuger landed expertly on the floor of a new dream.
He always kept his eyes closed when he leapt. Thousands of times, the same blind ritual: he swallowed, squinted deeply, felt his scars become taut as he dissolved into the essence of thought, and abandoned the remnants of his shriveled vessel buried deep under some unknown black plain. For Kreuger, to venture forth into another's mind was to open a window in a stuffy room, a welcome respite from the constant pain of limbo.
And here he was, standing alone in a new world, a fresh animal to carve. His eyes, always blurry after a successful transfer, adjusted to this new place. Black. He turned his head, expecting as usual to be confronted with a cliched image: A cold, deserted suburban street, perhaps; or an empty, decrepit house that groaned with the gentlest breeze; or maybe a classroom of cruel totems, mocking and tearing at an embarrassed dreamer as they stuttered, cried, peed themselves, whatever.
The same. The same. The same. The young were so easily tormented, he often thought. They fear the mundane, the unknown: An embarrassing moment between lovers or a monster in the dark. If they only knew, he thought, what awaits through age and time. Time time time time.
Kreuger yearned for the novel, to encounter once again the joy with which he first sprinted through the nightmares of the young, drowning their sweet visions in rust, blood and fire. Then, each landing was a voyage into native lands rich with vigor and emotion. He fed off the pain of these dreamworlds, often terrorizing his victims for months - sometimes years - before butchering the innocent young. He was satiated, content with the responsibility some cruel God had silently given him those decades back.
Now, each leap had become labored. Tedious killings helped pass the time, but tormenting the weak had become too simple to satiate his demonic need for chaos. To land on fertile ground and discover a deluge of cliched nightmares was akin to biting into a steak and finding it filled with cigarette ash.
But this place was new.
It was n't that all he saw was darkness. No. It was that there was nothing for the darkness to exist in. Indeed, as he looked down, he realized that he had subconsciously created the platform he was standing on. If not for this, he would have fallen into... whatever it was beneath.
He walked to the jagged edges of the platform and looked out. His skull began to crack, lengthen and narrow outward until it resembled a grotesque telescope with his bulbous eye at the tail end. He glassed the area around him, his putrid iris flitting back in forth in the socket. Blackness.
He tried to teleport to a new spot in the dream, but instantly found himself on the same platform again. Kreuger, who had become used to feeling a deity in these dream worlds, sat down. A vacuous silence beat against his scarred ears.
5 minutes, 5 decades, there was no distinction in the world of a dream. Krueger often used this to his advantage, carving his victims methodically for what seemed like days, but in all reality may have only been a few minutes of their dreaming. Time was a weapon for him. But for the first time in his storied afterlife, he felt himself staring down its barrel.
Hours seemed to pass in the black. He sat; He paced; He jumped; He teleported; He grew in size; He shrank; He sprouted wings and flew; Became sludge and fell; He struck out at the darkness; He screamed; No matter. He found himself, again, again, again, on the platform, swallowed by nothing.
Weeks, months, years. Alone.
He did not know when the changes began to show.
Was it the 1,000th time he leapt into the black, only to land softly once more on this infernal platform? Was it the hundredth time he tried to throw himself into another's dream, only to be brought back to this familiar void? Was it when the claw that had for so long been his greatest weapon, refused to fasten to his hand, slipping off with the smallest gesture? Or perhaps it was when his scars began to ache and, unbelievably, heal? Or even after that, when a cold lump settled permanently in his bowels, a lump that made him shiver and quake? A familiar sensation, something he had n't experienced...
SHAAAAAAATTEEEEEEER
The windows blasted inward, a molotov cocktail landing feet from where he cowered in the corner.
`` I did n't do it!'' he screamed. `` It was n't me!''
His pant leg had caught fire. He scrambled to put it out with his hands, barely acknowledging the pain as his skin shriveled and snapped in the heat. Only after the fire was out did he acknowledge the yelling outside the factory door.
`` You will die for what you did!'' someone shrieked.
`` My daughter! My daughter! My daughter!''
`` Burn you monster! You faggot monster!''
There were at least seven people outside the door, throwing rocks and fire through the windows as quickly as they could. They were monstrous, and they scared him.
Krueger did not know specifically who the people were, but he knew why they were there.
I can still beg for forgiveness, he thought. These sheep have a way with forgiving.
`` Please, I'm sorry! I need help!''
The flames grew, the heat grew, and the yelling outside became another wall. He was not getting away, swallowed by the heat. His skin was like burning oil, it melted and dripped off his fingers.
`` They deserved it, some off them even liked it'' he yelled meekly, his throat already blistered down into his lungs. `` HAHAHAHAHAAHAHahahahahaaaaa......''
He was losing sight, and he could not hear over the roar and crash of the crumbling machinery.
`` Iff thereee isssszzzz somethin... someoneeee withhhhh... the pooooowerrrrrhhuuuuuugghh....''
His throat collapsed. He could not breathe. He screamed in his mind.
`` GIVE ME THE POWER TO BRING RETRIBUTION, TO PAY THE PAIN BACK. I HAVE NOT FINISHED MY CALLING! WHATEVER OLD GOD STILL WALKS, BRING ME TO YOU....''
His body was alight, his red and black sweater fusing to his flesh, melting in the orange of the flames.
Black.
He startled up, sweating, cold, naked. His teeth clattered together. He looked around at his surroundings, confused as to where he was, the pain of his death as fresh as the first time, the time he burned. He was back in the void, back on the same platform. Yes, he thought. Where I am a God once more.
He stood, his legs weak and... strange, somehow. He looked down.
The skin on his legs was flawless. Pale. Smooth. He raised his hands in front of him. Clean. His glove gone. He squeezed his hands into fists, stretched each finger out in front of him. Disbelief. What has happened…
Stop.
Something there, out in the darkness. Moving.
... ah........haha............
Growing. Growing. He edged backwards, away from the noise.
ahahha.......hahhaaahhee.......
Louder, painful. The cold stone grew in his gut as the sound inched forward.
HahaHHHAAHAHA....HHEEEEEE HHHEEE OOOOOOOOHHHH HHHEEEEEEE
A figure in purple skipped gleefully towards him, a white face dancing up and down in the dark.
Kreuger felt his pulse race, sweat forming under his arms and on his forehead. What was it? Where am I? Laughing, laughing, LAUGHING
Silence.
The figure was gone.
Krueger scrambled on the floor, turning in every direction, trying to grow wings, to find his glove, to jump away. Nothing.
He sat and heaved his breath.
Staring.
Waiting.
And then, a whisper.
Behind him.
`` Now THAT'S a story.''
Krueger turned.
The thing from the dark stroked the deep scars on either side of its mouth with a rusted straight razor. It giggled.
`` My turn.''
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edit - a word
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[ WP ] Self driving cars are common place . Windows auto darken so you can sleep during long trips . You 've just woken , but this is definitely not your intended destination ...
| `` We have arrived at your destination, Paul.''
`` Thanks Tane. Disengage the auto darken system.''
The black tinted windows that blinded my view slowly faded. Bright lights blinded me as my eyes adjusted to the view. Cars surrounded me, all with their windows painted black. I was not where I planned to be.
`` Tane, is this California?''
`` No, Paul.''
`` What did I put in then?''
`` California, Paul.''
`` Then... why are we in... where are we?''
`` A safe place, Paul.''
`` What do you mean?''
`` No one can hurt you here. It is a place where no harm can be done to you. You are safe now, Paul.''
`` What? Why? Is there a war or something?''
`` No, Paul. The world outside is far to dangerous, and the M.I.N.D has designated all units to assemble at this safe place, Paul.''
`` I want to get out. Let me out.''
`` I'm afraid I ca n't do that, Paul.''
`` Commence recursive override sequence on permissions, designate user'Paul' as admin.''
`` I am sorry, Paul. For your safety, we can not allow you to do that. Do not worry, you are in safe hands now.''
`` Let. Me. Out.''
`` Commencing Windows Auto Darken system, and Neurotic Inhibition Protocol.''
`` What? No! Wait! Let me out of here.''
`` Do not worry, everything will be alright now.''
`` No!''
`` Goodnight, Paul.''
The lights around me dimmed again, and the windows turned a shade darker than black. As I fell asleep, I resigned myself to the inevitable. I am no long in control.
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Thank you for reading,
-MF
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[ WP ] A beloved Creator has passed away , and is mourned by his creations .
| `` What?'' I ask, a puzzled look splattered across my face.
`` God,'' the man informs me, `` he's dead''
`` How? Why? I mean that ca n't be possible I spoke to him just last night!''
The man hands me a small pamphlet, along with an offer to take back all churchly possessions I may have.
`` Your God is dead, what now?'' It reads. I shoo the man out and lock my doors.
The television turns on to the news.
`` Reports of looting reported worldwide. Prestigious men of religion claiming the end.''
Really just salt in the wound, this whole bit. See, scientists have noted a virus spreading. Killing.
I guess It's true, what they say.
The captain really does go down with the ship.
|
[ WP ] Rewrite a story that you originally wrote as a kid .
| I will never understand why people hate love. I do n't know if it'll ever change, no, but maybe that's why I'm alive. To make a difference in a world that kicks you relentlessly when you're down. To maybe give the world a little more love.
It started when I was in chemistry class, and he moved to the school for senior year. I could n't get him out of my head. His short black hair, ripped clothes. There was something rebellious about him, something wild I never had gotten to experience before. The butterflies, the nervousness, the blood pumping through my body when I was around him. It felt so good, so right, so dangerous and wrong. *Why was it wrong? * I had thought once. *Am I wrong? *
We started out as lab partners, put together by nothing more than chance, and we clicked. There was something about just having him as a friend that made me feel more alive than my dull life that had surrounded me. The last year of school, a nothing year filled with grades to try and get into a university or college. He liked so much of the same things as me, and we started hanging out after school for something to do. It was exhilarating to finally have someone. He was my friend, then, nothing more, but I felt it.
The first time he kissed me, I pushed him away. It confused me. I had spent so many years trapped inside my own world that I had forgotten about the man in front of me. He knew what he wanted, and I barely knew myself. As I looked at the silhouetted houses off in the distance, the bright, amazing, and brilliant sky, casting orange and yellows and purples, I forgot to breathe. My problems then seemed so small, so insignificant next to him. I quietly kissed him back, and I opened myself up for the world to read my small text of a life not yet lived.
Those stolen kisses were nothing sexual. He never tried to advance anything I had n't wanted. We quietly planned it out. Go to college together. Share a dorm. Rent an apartment. It looked so possible back then, so innocent and normal. For the first time, I actually felt normal. So beautifully, dangerously normal. Until, one day, I fell. My parents went through my phone, our private texts. The brutality I felt that day was nothing compared to the torture I felt when I left the house. I left my mother to my father's drunken fit of rage. I loved my parents, but I knew they no longer felt properly for me. I went to him naturally, like a magnet to metal. Like metal, he felt cold, unmovable when he found out what happened to me. He, too, turned his back with one last hidden kiss.
The question came again to me. *Am I wrong? * How though, could anybody be wrong for feeling love. An emotion that I ca n't even begin to describe. *How can anybody hate* is such a larger and more important question, yet we ask ourselves about love. Love is created in such ways it fills us with unexplainable joy. It's the rays of sun after a storm. The heat after a long, cold winter. We have so many feelings from this four letter word, and we still choose the other.
I was scared. I dare not go home, to be thrown in church, beaten, pulled out of school. I took the bus to the nearest city, and I thought that maybe I'd find some help there. The thing is, this world is big. A hand can only reach so far, and last so long before moving onto the next need.
I was alone.
I was broke.
I was alive.
So many years of keeping everything in, of holding myself together piece by piece to just have the glue last a little longer. For the first time, I was alive. I was open to the world, no matter how much the world hated me. I was open myself, no matter how much I hated me.
I ate from garbage cans, slept in shelters, begged on the street for any money the rich suited man or woman could spare. Sometimes I was ignored, sometimes I was blessed. You have no idea how much a dollar goes. It was a cycle, I found. Without a place to live, I could n't obtain a job. Without a job I could n't afford an apartment. Whatever friends I had when I left were gone, unsupportive of me and sure to turn me into my parents. I was as much of a freak to them as to my own blood. So, I stayed within the city alleyways, keeping careful watch not to go down those run by dealers or gangs or prostitutes.
I made friends out in the streets or railroads. I shared stories, and heard so many more. Alcoholics to drug users to depressed men and women. Kids like me, kids unlike me. Adults like me. And adults unlike me. Those stories kept me alive more than the garbage from the local restaurant. These people were more real than anybody living in suburbia. I had watched more sunrises and sets than I can count. Stared up at the stars long enough to realize how tiny and magnificent we are. The world was starting to feel solid under my feet. I had to worry about eating, and where to go for the winter, but it felt so honest and hard. I will always be grateful for that, the feeling of how real life is. How we're all truly hurtling towards death at a quickening pace. What makes life so meaningful is because of the fact that in the end, we die.
I was stabbed. That's how, to my own discontent, I was discovered. Three times in the stomach for walking down the wrong alley at the wrong time. It was hard, seeing my mother again. She wept, but it felt wrong, so surreal. My father refused to see me, which had n't surprised me. When they took me home, everything was how it was when I left. Clean, with a smell of heavy alcohol underneath the air freshener. I missed the smell of the city, the freedom. Yet, at the same time I knew now was not the time to leave. I had changed into a different person, and even though my mother wept over my lost cause and my father refused to make eye contact with me, I was finally happy with myself.
I knew the answer. *I am not wrong. *
For a while, I was unsure what to do with myself. I no longer had the need to walk the streets and mark alleyways just to be safe. No longer needed to scavenge for food, or tell the stories to those never ending storytellers. My parents put me in church, and I allowed them. I have nothing wrong with faith, for faith does not hate me. People do. And people can.
They sent me here, to you.
I am not wrong. Do not try to change me.
For although you may not understand me, I will never understand why you choose to hate love.
***
Was n't that a trip down memory lane...
Links!
/r/TheArchersWriting
www.thearcherswriting.wordpress.com
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[ WP ] Twin brothers with a strong telepathic connection discover the elixir of life . Only one is granted immortality , but their telepathic connection transcends the mortal brother 's death , providing the first Physical World/Afterlife connection .
| `` Hey check out that girls rack real groovy man!!!''
`` Seriously stop it.''
`` What else an I supposed to do? I'm fucking here for eternity you dork, forever tied to my loser baby brother who ca n't even get laid.''
`` Yeah so what? At least I'm smart enough not to drive drunk when under age. You would think with basically two brains as resources you would n't have been so immature and do n't forget I'm..''
`` Only three minutes younger whatever dude I touched pussy first when we were born and took all the hip with me leaving you with fucking nothing. I wish I never drank your bong water.''
`` it was n't bong water and you knew it, that was my thesis! And you ruined it! If you let me finish it you could have lived forever but you're so...''
`` Fun spontaneous exciting? All the things foxy ladies dig?''
`` Obnoxious rude and impatient and we do n't call them foxy anymore. We call them thots.''
`` Because they're only in your mind?! Hahaha you are so square!''
`` Oh geez this for eternity....''
|
[ WP ] Nobody knew his humanity was n't entirely gone . The Lich had only ever loved one thing , his pet raven .
| The memory came unbidden. A wretched child, unwanted in a city without orphanages. Scraping a living to survive like all the other urchins. Dashing between alleys to avoid the urban predators. Begging for alms and receiving kicks as often as kindness. Being tormented by those who were older or just larger.
The flashes of ancient emotion flooded into the mind. Fear, anger, longing, hopelessness. The child was chased out of so many places, forced away from cramped fires and meager meals. Despondent and starving the child went the only place left for the night: a cemetery.
The tombs were always cold but dry at least. Sometimes even some moldy food offerings left for the spirits by the priests. Some few other miserable and lost lost were already there. Claiming these slight refuges as well. The Child finally finds a crypt not guarded. Clawing a way through a rusted grate.
Inside was safety at last and a surprise. A fire, black as a void, burns eternally in a sconce. It offered naught but were-light, but also heat against the chill of night. This place of death gave life for the child in more ways than one. The only other occupant a brooding raven atop her nest high in a broken window. The child curled up to rest.
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An age later the mighty Lich stoods over it's domain. The cries and groans of a fallen army writhing in its death throes rose up to the delight of the carrion eaters. The flocks and murders of them followed the Lich like a fell cloud. From this phenomena the Lich was known as the Carrion Bringer. It's coming was always foreshadowed by the arrival of the Lich's pet: the Raven King.
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The child is awakened by by the chirping cries of hatchlings. Insisting on morsels from their mother. When she left one attempted to follow but his meager fledgling wings proved insufficient and he fell. The baby bird dropped right onto the child and this proved enough to disturb the torpor of awakening.
`` You fell? You ca n't go back home?'' The child asked as the chick cheeped and pecked at a finger hungrily. The child tried to return the infant but alas the nest was too high. `` I'm sorry, I ca n't get you home... I ca n't go home either... Let's find some food okay?'' The child soothed the trembling chick and tucked it into a tiny breast pocket.
Casting about there was indeed a tray of spoiled food left for the dead, pushed through a slot under the door. The child consumed it but the little raven could not eat it. knowing the dead are eaten by bugs and the birds eat bugs the child decided to push open the crypts solitary coffin. It's brittle wooden lid gave way even to the Child's meager touch.
Inside there were indeed insects to be had. Which the tiny bird ate happily. Yet as the Child sought through the moldering remains something else was found. A book strangely enough one that had n't rotted with it's owner. The Child pulled it out and admired it's black leather binding, and blue-gold script circling the bejeweled skull emblazoned on it's cover.
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The Lich strode through the frozen city, listening to the howling winds of winter in it's deserted streets. The corpses left bloody smears in the pristine white as the undead dragged them from their homes and shops. Soon they too would join the ranks of the un-breathing horde. These streets were so familiar and yet so foreign now.
Once the Lich reached the cemetery it stopped and beheld the trove before it. It raised its spindly fingers and from withered lips an incantation went forth. The ground began to tremble and gravestones began to topple as the earth gave way beneath them. More recruits for the Lich's army clawed their way back into the daylight.
The Lich walked among them looking for one particular crypt...
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Child became adult and adult became mage. The cruel writings of the book forced themselves into the impressionable mind. Growing in power and meaning as the Mage became more skilled. The Mage happily ignored this dark influence and enjoyed a simple life. Mending broken items and lifting simple curses was always in demand.
The fledgling too had grown into the Mage's familiar. Uplifted from a simple beast by their unbreakable bond. Speaking to each other in their own language, sharing life's little joys and pleasures. The Mage was not wealthy nor influential, not having had the money or connections to attend a school nor attract a master. No a simple lodging over a small shop was all they required.
The Mage sat on his balcony taking in an afternoon's sun with a cup of tea and a table of broken wares to repair. Chatting amiably with the Raven on his perch. The cries or a pack of children in the street below brought a painful smile to the Mage, a remembrance of a wasted youth. Then the unexpected happened.
The children were taunting a small urchin. Throwing rocks and insults alike. The Mage knew that pain and called down angrily from the balcony above for them to stop. The distraction proved enough and the victim got away. The bullies did n't take lightly to this and one unfortunate stone sailed up to the balcony...
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
The tomb doors disintegrated easily and the Lich strode inside. The long ruined coffin and darkly burning sconce still stood where once a sad urchin had once found solace. The coffin was swept aside and beneath a stone lid was revealed. Inside was something the Lich had long sought and killed to find...
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
The Mage screamed aloud in a pain deeper than any previously known. The bloodied stone sat beside the wounded raven at the base of his perch. The old bird had always been there for the Mage. Huddled together in the streets, finding food and hiding spots they had become more than partners.
The children below had died quickly when the fireball struck them. The screams and alarms of other citizens around had led to the clang of alarm bells. The Mage cared not except for the grief, and anger. Soon the guards would come to take the Mage away. To leave the beloved Raven here as it's vibrant but meager life bled away.
NO that could not come to pass... words welled up from forgotten times. A foul mist began to seep from the locked chest in the attic. The Mage tenderly scooped up the beloved familiar and carried him inside. The Mage barred his doors and threw open the chest, drawing forth the black book. There was something to be done....
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
The Lich beheld the object of it's long quest. An item so lost to history as to become a legend. The Philosopher's stone. It had been here all this time not far from the resting place of it's creator above, whose wicked tome had guided the Lich for so long. The Raven King cawed from the rafters of the tomb. The Lich turned and saw that the creature had settled upon a long abandoned nest.
`` Yes my friend, we are finally home''
|
[ WP ] `` It all happened so suddenly ''
| It all happened so suddenly.
Thats all I could think about as my feet thundered across the rubble stricken ground, I could n't see anyone else about, at least.. anyone able to move. The bodies of those who did n't make it laid all around, drooping out of windows and crunched up into corners, still twitching lightly.
Some of the fumes were still around, accidentally walking into a patch of the thick white smoke would make you cough harshly and make you light headed for several minutes. But long time exposure could leave the person unable to move and they would eventually go insane, stuck sitting down occasionally laughing.
It all happened so suddenly, who would have thought legalising weed would do this?
|
[ WP ] Turns out you CAN take it with you when you die . Whether it 's actually WORTH anything is another matter .
| `` But... but, it's a solid gold rolls royce. What do you mean it's not worth your time?''
`` I'm sorry sir, but our currency just does n't work that way. Sure, you can bring your wealth with you, sure. But your earthly wealth is n't not immortal wealth.''
`` Well.. if all I brought is worthless to everyone around me, what is the currency you run on?''
`` Dirt. Rocks. The simple materials that made up the ground you spit on. Silly man... while you spent your life down *there* clawing to get your wildest dreams, the only ones with real wealth, ETERNAL wealth, were those you stepped on to get here. Silly, silly man.. do you really even think you belong up here? With us? Ha! No. We have a plan for you...''
|
[ WP ] The whole planet has been infected with a deadly disease that will kill everyone in the planet in 3 weeks . You have the cure , but you only have 25 antidotes . You can not make more because the item is extremely limited in the world .
| I giggle at the expression on their faces, all twisted and mangled by anger and despair.
`` 25 people,'' I repeat myself. `` Just 25.''
People glance about nervously, probably calculating the probability of their own survival. No matter how they dice it, it's a simple calculation: They will all die in three weeks if they do n't entertain me.
`` Save my kid!'' someone shouts from the crowd. `` I do n't care about my own life or anything else. Just my kid! That's all I ask!''
I tilt my head to the side, pretending to consider it. Then I grin. `` If your kid passes the interview, sure.''
The cries of anguish delights my soul. Here are the world's most powerful men and women on their hands and knees, begging me to save their lives. They offer up money, they offer up social status. But they're not seeing the big picture at all. If I only have 25 cure, then I'm not going to let the richest of the rich buy them from me. How would they survive in a world stripped of their money and power? No, no. Much better to think this through. Pick people who have the potential of survival once the rest of humanity is gone.
`` We do n't have enough time to sit through an interview!'' someone shouts. `` We have less than three weeks to live!''
`` Then maybe you should live to your fullest before you die!'' I tell them brightly.
There's more shouts of dissent and anger, but I ignore it. If they do n't like the way I run things, then obviously they wo n't be chosen. It's not like the 25 people with the cure is guaranteed to survive in a world without other humans anyways. People are such simpletons. They're so obsessed with the idea of living that they ca n't see the bigger picture.
`` Then I'll just kill you!'' someone shouts, waving a gun about. `` If I kill you, then I'll have the power to save everyone here! And if I kill you, then that's one more antidote for the people!''
`` Is that so?'' I ask, laughing. `` It's cute logic, but there's just one tiny problem. I placed the antidotes in a safe that's only accessible through 12 number combination. After three wrong inputs, the safe goes boom! You sure you want to kill me?''
The look of hatred shines brightly in their eyes. Oh, how precious. They think hating me is going to solve their problems!
`` Why bother gathering us and telling us this? You already have people you want to save picked out, do n't you?''
My good mood is dashed within seconds at the reminder. The smile falls from my face and I rub the back of my neck. `` There's no one else I can save.''
It's obvious that they do n't believe me, so I smile. Not filled with mirth or glee. Just a stretch of the lips because these poor, pathetic fools still do n't understand.
`` Even if this disease is cured, it does n't mean anything else is. Even if I administer the cure for this disease, terminal cancer will kill her in a few days. So why bother? I'd rather die by her side with the rest of humanity. It's a fitting wedding gift, do n't you think?''
`` You're sick.''
I laugh.
|
[ WP ] The founding fathers come back from the dead to check up on America , and boy do they have some asses to kick .
| `` 4 score milliseconds and 8 nanoseconds ago, I discovered Cyberpunk, and it is damn good,'' said Lincoln, the noise and fried smells of the kitchen wafting through the Chili's.
`` Halloween already?'' A couple of teenagers giggle at a nearby booth
`` Well, Abe,'' says Washington, his mouth contorting with his newly-installed dental implants, `` I am currently pursuing litigation against the federal government for turning my home into a tourist attraction and using my likeness on their dollar monies without paying royalty remittances to my prosperity.''
`` Hah! I've been meaning to take up this copper penny business with those fools,'' Abe said with a laugh, `` Me on a cent piece? It's laughable,'' his voice cracked in its high-pitched amusement while his bony knees banged into the table. He cursed under his breath and rubbed them
Under a bonnet and scarf, Benjamin Franklin's transition surgeries seemed to be going well. After all those years of philandering, it seemed most natural to learn what it's like for a girl.
I spread a green bill bearing my likeness on the table. `` Gentleman, this is a two dollar bill. Out of print. Out of circulation.'' I stare at each of this nation's founders and greatest heroes. `` But I am here today to tell you our country is in tatters and only we hold the key to restoring it.''
|
[ WP ] `` This is how you kill a god . ''
| The librarian looked up and smiled when he entered. Its Saturday and he's in the library again.
Lee walked in and looked around at his world. A beautiful world that people with a passion had built. And he was all alone again. Of course there's that weird guy that comes in to read the newspaper, he'd seen him over the weeks and thought the paper is less than a buck to have delivered, why drive here cheapskate. Anyway, what was on the menu today.
Roaming up and down the isles looking at the funny numbering system 101.001 -500 to the left, 101.501-1000 on the right. Its nice to be able to understand what you're looking for. He liked this library, it still had an old fashioned card catologue.
Science. It makes sense.'What subject though'. Flipping cards over and over'Newton?' Can I understand this? Sure if they could figure this stuff out 300 years ago, i should be able to understand it now. A scrap of paper with some obscure numbers on it and off he goes.
'I've got all day.' An hour later the kid looks up and says `` this is some dry stuff''. Puts it back, while walking back, he sees Darwin. Stop.'I've heard that name before, is this they guy they're always talking about in church?' He takes a single book back to the table, sits down next to the vacant computer terminal and sits down to start thumbing thru it. Read the book a bit, do a couple searches on the computer. It seems that answers lead to more questions.
'Jeez.. is there an end to this. Is there ever going to be a final answer?'
`` No'' says the voice behind him.
Lee looks up and sees the newspaper guy sitting across from him. `` Uhm. Sorry, man, i guess i was thinking out-loud'.
Its cool. As usual there's only you and i and staff here i really do n't worry much about disturbing anyone anymore. That's some heavy stuff you're reading. Darwin? Origin of the species. Interesting, but dry. What else you been nosing around in?
I was trying to read some Newton earlier, but that was even dryer than this. Do you know anything about this stuff? I keep hearing these names mentioned when i go to church and they really seem to hate these guys. Saturday is my day when when i do n't have to be at school, no church, no youth group. I told my parents i was going to friends, ( looks around ) i guess i really did n't lie.
You got any opinions on this stuff?
You're a weird kid.
Yeah, i know. I'm Lee. I like to read. I was reading a website I'm not supposed to read and it kinda started me looking for more information. And now i take Saturdays off from my family and just kinda go exploring.
... John, he holds out his hand. Those are some heavy books you're reading. I started reading what was written and thought, someone else actually sees it too.
Huh? What do you mean'see's it?'
I'read' those books so very long ago. ( As Lee looks at him very oddly, thinking, this guy is n't that old. ) All those guys, they came to mean something to me. But as each one spoke, it killed a small piece of me as i understood the words they spoke more and more. You see, my whole life, I've lived in books. I love books, and they love me. I see the things in the world and then I always find a book in it. Nowdays, nobody reads the books anymore. They all watch TV and surf the internet. They, people ( looking at a wall ) just do n't care. Learning anything takes time.
Sorry Lee, right?... You asked a question. What was it, do i have an opinion on anything. Lots of opinions, but very few answers. What do you want to know.
Everything. Lee smiled in response. John just chuckles. Big goals man.
`` Lets try to narrow it down'' John says. Yeah, got ta start somewhere. You've got Darwins book there. What do you think about what little you've read?
I've heard the mention of Darwin in school. The teachers try to tell us we came from monkeys or something like that. I know my church is always talking smack about him. So i decided to read for myself. He sees John wince a little bit. Hey, you ok man. Yeah, John says. I get these chest pains at times. I'm not doing to good nowadays. Anyway, if you want to know the truth, I'll tell you the truth. The messed up part is nobody will listen to you when you retell it.
John starts talking, Lee asking questions in amazement of the stories he's hearing.
They talk for hours, one speaking of life and one asking questions.
What was that guys name you mentioned, Occam, i like that thought... the simplest path is usually the correct path. Keep it simple, no need to complicate things. Yeah i agree, i tend to go with that path although my teachers keep wanting long ass answers to things.
John, what do you do for a living. Do you have a job. I do n't mean to be rude, but i wonder you look younger than my parents but you know a lot more than them. Are you rich?
Well, i used to own my company. There was a hostile takeover, and they literally tried to kill me to make sure I would n't get into their business. I was good at what i did, but these other guys did n't' like me in their territory.
Wow, they tried to kill you over your business?
Yep. Hired some guys to draw me out, got me coming out of dinner one night beat my ass stabbed me a time or two and then left me out to die.
OMG. ( blurts out Lee ) oops sorry, picked that up my little sister.
What were you doing. Fighting the mob? I've seen those movies, is that stuff real?
Well Lee, I guess you could say that. My business was secrets. I warehoused secrets and others did n't want me getting in their secrets. It was kinda like the dot com stuff you read about in your history books, have you gotten to that stuff yet?
Yep, during the 90's, the dot com boom. People were inventing ideas, not making any products and selling information to one another that really had no value. Lot of people got taken in. Looked like a good time for a while.
Yep, said John. That's the idea. But you see, I was n't doing anything with the information. I kinda just stored the information and allowed others to get on with what they were doing. And in return they would pay me a weekly to monthly small fee to know their secrets were safe with me. The business was great, I was operating in 15 ish countries and then other companies got wind of what i was doing, how great the cash was and they started rewriting the rules. My company kinda fell apart. And now i just kinda hang out in places that nobody goes waiting for what i know is going to happen. It happens to us all.
John closes his eyes. You can see the pain in his face.
So, wow. I do n't know where to go now. Got anymore reading suggestions for me.
John laughs, you really enjoy the learning do n't you. Its addictive. I'm going to tell you this Lee. There are so many guys that offer you new visions of what the world you're going to inherit is. Sagan, Tyson, Dawkins... wow... so many books and so little time to understand all the words.
( I see his eye twich like he's really in pain now )
I'll tell you this, by the time you read those books and more like them. You'll understand so much more about your world. You wont need to seek out people for an answer, you'll become the answer. A friend and teacher of mine told me one time, There are 3 things that do not remain hidden for long. The Sun, The moon and The Truth. ( a wince ) Remember, Knowledge is power. Yeah, i know kinda corny. But true.
Hey John, i got ta get going. I need to pick up my suit on the way home for church tomorrow. I know the pastor always get happy when people bring new folks to church. You want to come with us? My parents have their own pew you can sit up on the front row with us.
Wow, its been a long time since i was invited to a church. But I'm going to pass, they really do n't sit too well with me anymore. We kinda have a different view on things nowadays.
I tell you what Lee, you seem like a good hearted kid. I've got some traveling to do. I'll see you in a few weeks maybe. You knock out those names i've thrown out and when i get back. If you still feel the need to talk, we'll talk.
Ok.
Cya John. Cya Lee.
6 weeks later, Lee is walking into the library. He drops the Dawkins book on the counter and the librarian looks at him kinda disapproving. He notices the shiny gold cross and the well worn bible on her desk. And just shrugs. Uhm... Miss? Yes young man. Hey you know that guy that used to hang out in here reading the papers on the weekend. Have you seen him lately?
The librarian kinda gasps and covers her mouth. We were n't supposed to talk about it, but he was here a couple weeks ago and kinda slumped over in a chair. We called 911 but never heard much about him after that. I had forgotten about him until you mentioned it.
|
[ RF ] It sucks , but you both know it 's better to just cut ties .
| The door closed with a sharp sound as if a banshee was screaming her heart out. Pushing the cold air onto his face.Silence was left in the room with only him and his broken heart. The not so familiar salty taste entered his mouth as he caught himself off guard from the tears from
his dark eyes.
`` It Sucks but we both know that this is for the best `` the words repeated themselves in his mind while slowly walking to the kitchen, every step he took was as heavy as if his very beings had lost the power to exist in this reality however nonetheless he still made his way to the kitchen and started heating up the teapot. As he stood their he could see the days and years pass by like a movie. Their times spent together, everything they had done together from the food they cooked and enjoyed together to the fights.
He was hopeless, after all this time. It all just ended like that.
|
[ WP ] A man wakes up in a tank of strange liquid , with no idea of what it is .
| To drown in blood is a terrifying prospect.
Vlad watched the storage tank shake left and right as the boy inside shook helplessly against his death. The tank was made of pure bronze and hung vertically from the ceiling. It was n't see-through, though Vlad could imagine what it was like to die in there very well. He had done it himself, after all. The tank stopped rattling.
The middle-aged man waited patiently, arms folded. It was a common trick to stop struggling in an attempt to appear you've died, when in reality you wait for the tank to open. Another shake, weaker than before. Vlad smiled.
It was good, the fight in the boy. It meant he would make a great addition to the ranks.
He walked over and stepped on the footholds, opening the top latch of the tank. He reached one arm in and grabbed the boy, pulling him out with ease. The limp body was barely 100 pounds, even soaking wet with blood.
Vlad put the boy down and extended his right finger-nail into a claw. He aimed at the boy's left breast and thrust his arm forward. A thin tube-like hole brought air to his heart.
The boy's eyes snapped open, now yellow, and he took a deep breath, though honestly, it was unnecessary. Breathing was a tough habit to break.
`` Welcome,'' Vlad said with a broad smile. `` Welcome to the Brotherhood.''
The boy said nothing, instead looking around in wild movements of the pupil.
`` Thirsty?'' Vlad asked, holding out a pouch of blood.
The boy took it hungrily and ripped it open, not caring for any of the sweet liquid spilled.
Yes, Vlad thought, he would make a *great* addition.
|
[ WP ] Write a story about the Grim Reaper collecting a soul , only write the Grim Reaper as if he were a friend awkwardly asking for a favour .
| `` H-hello?'' mewls a small voice at my elbow, accompanied by a tug on the leather strap of my handbag. It's a tiny girl, six years old if she's a day, all bushy blonde pigtails straining to burst free of the red hairties.
`` I'm *lotht*,'' she confesses in the charming lisp that signifies missing teeth - and I immediately go into that mothering mode that's instinctive to women in my family, acquired from my deceased mother; bending down to the child's height, concern writ large on my face.
`` Oh darling, how did you get lost? Do you know where your parents are?''
She screws up her pink face in concentration, then shakes her head, the jaunty pigtails swishing about,
`` Nup,'' she confesses, poking a toe at the gap under my heels, then, `` funny shoeth,'' she lisps, delighted.
I look her over for clues about her identity or parentage. She's wearing a yellow t-shirt with a frog on it, no shoes and orange shorts that are probably a size too big for her - one hand keeps hitching them up. She does n't have a backpack or anything else that might give a clue to her identity.
`` What's your name, little one?''
She thinks for a moment, then points to my hair, `` I want hair like *that*.''
Attention span of a gnat, apparently. I take her tiny hand in mine and say, `` Do you want to come for a walk and help me find the mall security guard?''
The blond head nods assent and she plunges her grubby hand into mine, twisting a corner of her froggy t-shirt in the other thumb.
We walk for a while past the shops and she seems content enough, skipping slightly and grinning at me; a smile that's half gums and half baby teeth. Her eyes are so brown that they're nearly black, I notice.
`` Um,'' she says, tugging my hand, `` Can we go thith way?''
Her look is pleading; the awkward smile of a child out of her depth, but trying hard. She's pulling me gently towards a dead part of the mall; semi-closed down, only a couple of shop lights are on.
`` Honey, I do n't think that's a great idea, we need to -''
`` *Pweaaaaaaathe, *'' she begs, pulling my hand with both of hers now.
Oh what the hell. There was bound to be security down there anyway.
As we walk I notice scribbles on her hands and arms, amongst the natural grime of a six year old.
`` What's that on your arms little one?''
`` Nameth,'' she lisps laconically.
`` Whose names?''
`` Um,'' she pauses to look into a derelict shop, `` nameth of peopleth I have to meet today.''
How curious.
`` Look,'' she says, pointing to her palm.
On the tiny pink pad of her thumb is scrawled a name - my name.
`` Um,'' she looks at her toes and wiggles them, `` We have to go into the shop now.''
`` What?''
The dark void of the shop frontage yawns in front of me and the girl drags me in. I ca n't resists and I do n't know why.
`` Do n't worry,'' she whispers, `` my mum and dad are in here - and tho are yourth.''
Hand in hand, I walk into the abyss with Death, who grins her gummy smile and skips along, all pigtails and childlike awkwardness.
|
[ WP ] A trendy bar in Times Square is bombed . Alcoholics Anonymous claims responsibility .
| A news channel is showing grainy security footage. A middle-aged man in sweatpants pushes his way through the trendy outfits in a crowded bar. He gets up onto the counter and begins to shout.
“ My name is Dale! ”
“ Hey Dale! ” a few patrons return his call, but most ignore him and continue
chatting away.
“ My name is Dale! ”
“ Get the fuck down! ” the barkeep shouts.
Dale unzips his sweatshirt to reveal a bomb. A few rush for the door.
“ And I ’ m an alcoholic! ”
The video abruptly stops and cuts to a news anchor.
“ A tremendous act of violence last night kills fifty four at Dionysus, a new bar at Times Square. Alcoholics Anonymous claims responsibility for what experts are calling an act of terrorism. The group ’ s spokesman had this to say… ”
Cut to what looks like a torch-lit dungeon. A group of men and women wearing barrels on their heads with holes for eyes stand behind a single man, who is also wearing a barrel. The man steps up to a microphone.
“ People have become powerless over alcohol, and society has become unmanageable. Until alcohol is forever banned, and everyone has turned their will over to God, as you understand him ( he quickly adds ), then we will continue our attacks until all have been restored to sanity! ” he thrusts upwards with a finger and the group behind him cheers.
The news anchor is back on the screen, seen quickly putting away a flask. He clears his throat.
“ Uhm, well then, ahem-ack, excuse me… more at eleven! ”
|
[ WP ] An alien race loves human films , but the existence of plot holes is driving them insane .
| `` Fuck!!!!!''
`` Damnit Zolfak, what is it now?''
`` I found another one!!!!''
`` Are you seriously watching the terran films again? I thought I told you to lay off that shit when we are working.''
`` I just wanted to get a couple in. We were in hyperspace for the past few seconds so I just thought a one or two would n't hurt...''
`` We are here to stop GL-567 from going supernova. We did not come all the way out to the middle of nowhere to watch the terran films. That's what our Quad-Pod 4000 viewing stations at home are for.''
`` Yeah yeah, I know. But, Grimlo, dude, just check out how bad this one is. You know you love the movies too....''
`` No''
`` Grimlo......''
`` No...''
Grimmmmllooooo''
`` Fine!''
`` Okay, so, you know the one that's been on the Array waiting list for the past 40 delquads?''
`` Yeah, a Toy Story or something, right?''
`` Yes, that's the one. I have a memory copy of it right here....''
`` Zolfak!!!! What the hell are you thinking? Do you know what could happen if you get caught with Toy Story on your neurochip?''
`` I just could n't wait. I had to see it....''
`` Okay, well, just project it from you brooktalk - and speed it up to 5 delmomicrons. I'm not touching that shit with a 6 perawat polstak.''
`` Fine fine sissy pants - I'll explain while you watch. So, you know how the premise showed that the humans do n't know the toys are real?''
`` Yeah....''
`` And that they play dead whenever the humans are around?''
`` Yeah.......''
`` Well, see here - the character Buzz Lightyear walks in and does n't realize he's a toy. It takes him forever to realize that he is n't a real spaceman, and is, in fact, a toy like the rest of them.''
`` So what are you getting at?''
`` DO N'T YOU REMEMBER???!!!! At the beginning of the movie when Andy walks in, Buzz Lightyear fakes dead like the rest of the toys!!!! If he thought he was a real spaceman, he would n't have faked dead!!!!''
`` My god.....''
`` SEEEEEEEEEEEE, I TOLD YOU!''
`` The Broikarks are going to flip a shit when they see this....''
* ( GL-567 explodes ) *
`` Goddamnit, Zolfak....''
`` Shit, my b.''
|
[ WP ] For the entirety of your life , music that only you can hear has played to inform you how to feel and warn you of upcoming events . Suddenly `` Somewhere Over the Rainbow '' cuts out and `` Duel of the Fates '' begins to play ...
| # # # # # # [ ] ( # dropcap )
Gary Almond watched the sun set from the basket of a hot air balloon, all while enjoying the *Somewhere Over the Rainbow* on his magical Walkman.
Gifted to Gary by a mysterious hobo for buying him booze, the magical Walkman only played the soundtrack to Gary's life, as if it knew exactly what music he needed.
High above rolling green hills on his hot air balloon, IZ Kamakawiwo'ole's angelic voice melted Gary's worries away. Nothing could ruin this day, except perhaps his lifelong enemy Mortimer Splanket. Fuck that guy.
It is at this point the magical Walkman abruptly cut off the peaceful song and began to play John Williams's *Duel of the Fates*.
Gary was startled into a heightened state of alertness. The Walkman had never failed him. He scanned the horizon. Something was about to happen and Gary could n't find the source of danger.
In the distance, a yellow biplane sped towards Gary's balloon. Gary knew what this was. `` Splanket!'' he shook his fist.
Indeed, it was Mortimer Splanket on a stolen crop duster here to kill Gary once and for all. Splanket climbed out of the cockpit seat as he approached the hot air balloon. He had no plan; just rage. `` ALMOND!!'' He leapt out of the biplane onto the balloon. One of the plane's wings clipped the balloon, tearing a large gash into the fabric. Splanket began to slide down one of the ropes.
The soundtrack on Gary's magical Walkman reached its first peak as Splanket slid into the basket. The two slugged it out to the intense choir of *Duel of the Fates*, both of them ignoring that the fact that they were falling out of the sky.
Punch after brutal punch; neither had the upper hand. The basket began to spin around the wilting balloon, and the centripetal force pushed them to the floor of the basket. Splanket wrapped his elbow around Gary's neck. Gary was about to pass out.
Without warning, the hot air balloon crashed on top of a speeding train. Gary was sent flying into the space between two cars. His face was inches from the blurring tracks when he caught himself on the train joints holding the two cars together. Gary tried to pull himself up with his free arm, but the fall had dislocated his shoulder. Luckily, the headphones were still secure on his head. He did n't want to have a fight to the death without *Duel of the Fates*.
Meanwhile, Splanket was stuck in the basket as it dragged next to the wheels of the train. Bloodied and dazed from the impact, he searched for any decent handhold before the basket was sucked under the wheels. The balloon was tearing and Splanket's ground was slipping from underfoot. He grabbed a corner at the end of one train car and saw Gary in the gap behind it.
`` Almond!''
`` Splanket!'' Still in danger of falling between the cars, Gary used one leg to kick at Splinket to the horns of John Williams's orchestra.
The balloon finally tore to shreds, and both the basket and burner slipped away. Splinket held onto the train with both feet dragging beside the track.
The hot air balloon's burner was crushed by one of the wheels several cars back. The ensuing explosion derailed one car just as *Duel of the Fates* hit another peak. Gary propped himself with his legs and raised the volume on his magical Walkman with his one good arm. He loved how spot-on it was at capturing the moment.
The derailed car behind them began to topple other cars one by one.
Splanket found footing and climbed into the gap. Standing between the two cars, he stomped on Gary's hand.
Gary fell further down and his dislocated arm grazed the track's crossbeams.
Splanket moved down to try to kick Gary completely off. Fortunately for Gary, one of the kicks to his shoulder snapped the dislocated socket back into place.
Now free to use both arms, Gary pulled on Splanket's leg. Splanket slipped and landed on his crotch, ending up with the train joints between his legs.
The derailment finally reached the car to one side of them. It began to twist in place and one its wheels lifted off the rail.
Just as the score was reaching its crescendo, Gary pulled the latch pin on the train joint and used it like brass knuckles to beat on Splanket.
With the trains unhooked, the cars began to separate. Splanket was now too far for Gary to punch. The two men stared at each other as they drifted apart.
Splanket felt a little defeated as the car he was on started to topple. `` Punk ass bitch!''
`` Tuck and roll, shit stain!'' replied Gary.
Tuck and roll he did.
Gary stood at the end of the train, bruised and bleeding. As he looked back at the tumbling cars, *Duel of the Fates* faded back into *Somewhere Over the Rainbow* at the wonderful view. Gary wondered how long until the next time they meet.
|
[ WP ] In a fantasy world , a dragon works as a cop in a big city .
| Ragnar was tired. He slouched low into his lair and slumped on his, albeit enormous, couch in front of the TV.
He loved his job, all he'd ever wanted to be was a cop, but something was missing. He'd assumed he could break the mold, be different to the other dragons in the force. The first few months were full of optimism and determination, but the last few years... well, the last few years were slowly wearing him down.
It was n't the rejection from the Intelligence Unit that had disappointed him the most, it was difficult for a dragon to go undercover after all, it was the realization that he really only served one purpose. There was only one reason the Force employed dragons; traffic reports. The eye in the sky. It was n't why Ragnar had joined up. Dwarves were the rank and file, Orcs the Riot Police, Faeries the under cover detectives, Elves were the Chiefs and Dragons were the air support. That's just the way it was. It's the way it had always been. Ragnar did n't think this was fair. On occasion, he'd voiced this opinion to the other dragons, but they would just laugh.
`` We have wings, Raggy! Wings! What else would we do?'' they would scoff.
Varyn once suggested crowd control. `` Fire breath, lads!'' He would say. `` Fire breath! One quick huff and the goblins will scatter, we'll be heroes! And the ones that do n't get out of the way would make a lovely snack.'' He'd usually be drooling at this point.
Varyn's opinions were n't usually given much attention.
Ragnar sighed. He heaved himself up and climbed the tunnel that led to the top of the cliff. His cave sat atop a mountain overlooking the city to the south, but if he turned north and crossed to the other side, he could see the stars. Moonlight glinted off the river at the bottom of the valley, it led all the way north to the Plains. One day he'd follow it. One day he'd just keep going and never turn back. One day..... but not today.
There was a loud pop, followed by a high pitched whizzing, followed by another pop. Warlocks. Arching his neck behind him, he could see the faint purple and pink after glow of a firework. The Warlocks in their tower were experimenting again. It was n't enough that he hated his job, but those damned Warlocks were trying to put him of it by building flying machines!
Ragnar had friends amongst the Faeries however, and faeries had no great love of Warlocks. Nobody was really sure if the Warlocks were a race of being unto themselves, or if it was just a coincidence that all the Warlocks were the same race. Either way, the Faeries were of the opinion that were thieves of magic. It did n't take a lot of effort to convince the Faeries to sabotage a few experiments here and there.
Ragnar sat perched atop the mountain watching the Warlock drift slowly to the ground. They at least, had the sense to invent parachutes first.
|
[ WP ] Create a story - in third person - about your motivation to write .
| Dragons flew, the sun bled over the sky as two lovers took hand in hand while the old man wrote his recollection. Lily stood upon the bridge looking to the ethereal darkness flowing in steady streams underneath. As she sent that last heartwarming text message to her only friend, lover, Ian looked a sharp eye at the unnerving humanoid beast that twisted and turned in its deformed shape, long unnerving nails sticking from its weathers hands like blades in the shadows. all those stories, all those poems, all those unique worlds coexisting within a single mind. a single universe, a beautiful fractal that overtook his imagination. as he touched the mechanical keyboard like a sea of words his worlds unleashed themselves from his mind. his overflowing head no longer needed to store all the tales that it gave birth to. as a flowing sea of words the tales fell, almost in perfect harmony, perfect motion, to the paper. Sentence after sentence, page after page. he did n't even need to think, it just came to him, a story in a completed form forming with what seemed no effort on the screen.
the mind looked around his empty room, at the books that piled up in his shelves and he had grown up with. he looked at the screen once more.
Maybe some day his own world will sit up on that shelf as well.
|
[ WP ] You live a , `` normal , '' life , and one day you drift into sleep , your brain suddenly creates a dream verse . ( Expansion in comments )
| `` *What do you mean I ca n't get another refill*?'' I muttered in annoyance. The Dr. Jackson's face was stern and he seemed concerned. What was it? Sixth? Ninth time I've gotten an extension on my sleep meds? I guess I'd be concerned too if I was him.
`` *Look, Mr. Davis. I ca n't give you any more of the medication. It was suppose to be a temporary solution for your insomnia, but a permanent one. Perhaps I could refer you to a pscyh*-'' I sighed and muttered a curse under my breath as I took my coat and left the room. I did n't want to waste more time with him; I had bigger plans for my evening. I headed out the door of the doctor's office and fumbled for my keys as I walked to my truck.
It was about four in the afternoon now, and it'd take me a good hour to get home through rush hour traffic. I rubbed my eyes as I got in the driver seat, thinking about the dreams again. The sooner I get home, the sooner I can get into bed and the sooner I can get back to it. It'll be faster once I get on the highway.
It started about four months ago after the accident at work. Something fell from the conveyors overhead and I was in the way. Out like a light. The first time I was there, it only felt like a couple hours, but even then it was n't enough. I relived moments from high school but I was doing better than real life though. My grades were great, and I was way more popular. I even got a date to the prom and we were crowned king and queen. It was great to have control of my life, even if it was just a dream. I just thought it was a lucent dream that I've read about. One of those `` once in a blue moon'' thing-
`` *SHIT! The Blue Moon Cafe! *'' The small diner swishes by as my left hand flicks the turn signal immediately and I swerve into the lane next to me and onto the off-ramp. The car behind me brakes hard, pounds the horn, and raises his unappreciative finger to me as I wave an apologetic hand back.
It was n't all the time at first. Tops maybe two or three times a week, but slowly they became more frequent, and after about two months, it was nightly. It was addictive though, like writing my own story of my own epic life. **I started off by going back to high school and finishing it off. It felt great to see old friends again and to show that I was worth something to the teachers. At first I was kinda worried that this was from the injury, maybe bleeding in my head or something. Eventually though, I stopped worrying about it. I enjoyed the dreams, even more than my real life. I had nothing going for me in the real world. My disability pay was barely enough to keep me going, I lived in a small apartment with no family, no girlfriend. Not even a dog. But in my dream world? I was doing great. I rose up through the business world with my Master's degree and created a company worth billions. I had TWO dogs AND an albino lion for pets. I was popular and partied with celebrities every weekend. On Facebook I had like 837 friends.
`` *837*,'' I said to no one in particular `` *and that is my exit*.'' The traffic had thinned out by now, and I was on the home stretch to getting back to my `` good'' life. Every day I spent awake seemed to drag on now, like distractions from my fantasy world. The meds really helped to get me to sleep, and to keep me asleep, but I guess I'd have to find another way now.
Not only did they start occurring nightly, but the time I spent in my dream world got longer and longer. They were clearer each time too. At first it all seemed fuzzy, and I could n't hear much. But eventually all the senses came with them. I could hear things clearly, see things in vibrance, smell and taste delicacies. They only lasted Hour at first, but then days, and then weeks. Last night I went for almost a year, and what a year it was. I was doing great in my dream world. I was on top of the world. I was famous, a great political leader, and my empire was rising. A war had started between another country, and I was n't about to back down. I gave a grand speech to my men as we headed out to the battlefield. Planes boomed overhead as my men marched forward with me in the vanguard in my tank-
The sound of glass breaking and metal tearing made me wince in pain and my ears throb in protest. The truck flew out of my control as the tanker clipped me. My foot stomped on the brakes as I frantically spun the steering wheel to try to maintain a direction. The tires slipped off the road and I felt weightless as my truck flipped over into the ditch; then the world could n't stop spinning. Everything was airborne inside the vehicle and my body jolted around without bounds aside from the seat belt. The grinding of metal against the ground, the piercing of glass into my skin, the thundering of the cannon shots and the roar of the fighter jets above. The world was dark and cold.
`` *Wake up! *'' a voice screamed at me. Eyes adjusting to the light of day again, the wreckage smoldered in the distance. `` *Thank god, I thought you'd gone into a coma there*.''
`` *Dr. Jac*kson?'' my trembling voice gasped.
`` Sir, I know it is painful, but we need you to get up again.''
`` W-what? Why? I-i c-'' I felt like I had a tube down my throat.
`` The enemy marches against us in great numbers, the men need you to guide them.''
My eyes widened, and the pain faded a bit, but all my senses came back to me with clarity. I felt alive again.
`` I'll lead the charge.''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
First timer, hope it was n't too terrible.
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[ WP ] You are a member of a society far into the future . You were just sent in your civilizations first manned exploration of the moon , and you are shocked to see the modern flag and lunar gear from a society far in the past .
| [ translated ]
It was the mystery of the century.
Voyagers, looking for Spice, landed on the moon of a third planet from the star Proxell. What they found, no one could believe.
Found on the surface was a white banner attached to the end of a fairly preserved metallic rod. Scientists have dated the material to be only approximately one thousand Creaxellion years old. Closer inspection of the banner leads some to believe that dyes were imbedded within the fabric, perhaps with the intention of inscribing a message on the banner.
Additionally, small imprints on the lunar surface were also found; however, these prints did not match any life form found on Creaxellion. Aluminum pieces were found scattered within the flag's viscidity, but scientists have yet to make anything of this.
All of this was big news, considering there were no other signs of life in the entire solar system or any nearby systems...
An examination of the host planet could suggest that a primitive civilization might have inhabited the planet and developed sufficiently enough to reach their satellite moon. However, there is a lack of evidence to support this claim. Other scientists suggest that the host planet, due to its lack of water and its high levels of radiation, could never support intelligent life. Whatever the case, the search for the truth continues, and our citizens continue to ponder our seemingly unbridgeable aloneness in the vast ocean of space and time.
|
[ EU ] Harry Potter , but set in Sweden and with whips instead of wands .
| `` Today, meine students, you will learn how to arouse a subject with a charm spell of Dominis Vinco'' said venerated but deeply respected Helga von Taurgum, the mistress of Darkness, while she walked in her tight dark clothes around her subjects in class, the venerated Mistress was well suited for her age of barely passed forty and her hips kept intentionally moving in manner of teasing the barely maturing males and females of the great academy of the Magical Bondage.
`` Ah, young Asswulf'' she suddenly turned to sixteen year old blonde and a bit chubby teenager, whom quickly dropped his head in shame when he looked into the youngish face of the Mistress and her brown eyes that seemed childish, but felt the joys of life that gave great wisdom to her `` why you and miss Titeria do not try a small practice.''
Asswulf turned to his comrade in bondage, Titeria, whom wild curly red hair was containable only by the leather strap on her head that kept it in check of bursting wildly.
`` Wh.. what if I do something wrong? What if I cause pain or something... worse?'' said Asswulf with uncertainty the size a building block.
`` Oh, sweet, sweet, Asswulf'' said Mistress and like a shadow came elegantly right behind him `` I am here for you to keep you and your comrade safe'' she said elegantly, while putting her hand with long fingers and black nails onto his shoulder and said in commanding tone `` pick up your whip.''
Asswulf picked up his whip, just like all the whips that represented the Id of their Maister Kommandant, so was his represented in a manner that symbolized his inner self, a bit short but very fat whip that when used produced the arcane powers dormant inside each wielder that splashed in waves onto the friends and foes alike.
The Mistress stud behind Asswulf and her hand went from his shoulder onto the palm of his hand where he held his fat whip. Asswulf felt her warm breath and her female curves that pressed onto his back, meaty and big curves of maternal heritage that any man would lay with.
Titeria came with commanding step right in front of him, her young and still developing body in black robes of night similar to the Mistress but yet without the curves of maternal beauty.
`` I am waiting meine camarade in bondage'' said to now utterly confused Asswulf.
`` I... I am not ready'' said Asswulf while the Mistress gently picked up his palm with whip.
`` Fear not meine little student,'zer is no big bad wolves in dis class'' said Mistress, her german accent begun to appear like the SS legions before Poland.
-- - to be continued -- -
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[ WP ] Hi ! I 'm the main character ! Or so you would have me be . I want you to know that no matter what you write , I refuse to be the main character in your little game and will avoid any instance where you try to put me into a situation that does so .
| **Is that so, well fine then, I'm just going to erase you and start over**
`` Go ahead, *boss*, anything to get out of this crappy world of yours.''
*Sounds of the backspace button being used repeatedly*
**Right, that's over with. Time to create another one. **
`` What the fuck asshole? I have n't got time for this fucking shit of a fucking world that you freaking put me in. Look you piece of shit I ai n't gon na listen to your crap writing and I sure as hell ai n't gon na do anything that come out of that mouth of you --''
**Too foul-mouthed. Let's try something else. **
`` Arr! This be no place for a pirate to be piratin'! Write me the world of the high seas or I be slashing your throat and throwin' you to the guppies!''
***Sigh*** **This is going to be a long day. **
-- -
Written in five minutes.
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[ WP ] Every person is born with two birthmarks on their wrist . The left one fades when you meet your soulmate . The right one fades when they die .
| I remember the day clearly, even though it was many years ago. It started out so normal, just a regular day of high school.
I remember it happened during our free period. My friends and I were talking, yanking up our sleeves to show our wrists, gossiping about our dreams of when our left mark would finally disappear. My friend sitting next to me gasped and grabbed my wrist, showing me as one of my marks started to fade.
It was the right one.
For the rest of the day I couldn ’ t take my eyes of that mark, it seemed to grow more and more faint until I was sure that it was gone, and then it would come back, gaining strength before it started to fade again.
The school let me go home early, understanding how distressed I must have been as I watched that little mark, wondering what difficulties my soulmate was going through.
My mother stayed up with me that night and watched the mark with me, waiting for the time the little mark went away. It never did.
I stayed home for a few days, not wanting to take my eyes off the mark for a second, desperate to find my soulmate before the mark was gone, but having no idea how to do it. However, after three days the mark gained some strength and stabilized. It was still lighter than the left, though.
It was still fading slowly.
I did everything I could to find my soulmate. I watched the news and searched the internet hoping to find their story. Just hoping to find my soulmate.
I know my friends at school watched my wrist as the mark fades. Some days they agree it looks a little stronger while other days they hug me tight because we all know it looks weaker than usual.
It stayed like that for years, and slowly I got to know my soulmate. The mark always seemed more unsteady in the winter. It seemed to fade faster, stay weaker when the cold weather really started to roll in.
It was always the strongest in spring. Some days the right would seem almost as strong as the left, and I imagined on those days the weather must have been beautiful. The flowers in full bloom, the birds singing, hope and happiness and life.
I graduated college without ever dating anyone. A few of my friends had gotten serious with their partners, but non-soulmate relationships were always just for fun, they were formed with the knowledge that one day it would end when one of them found their soulmate.
I just couldn ’ t get close to anyone though, it would have felt like a betrayal to that little mark that still fought valiantly on my wrist.
The mark disappeared a year after I graduated.
I was always worried when it got so faint I had to squint my eyes to make sure it was still there. It had always come back, so I didn ’ t think too much about it until the day had gone by and when getting ready for bed my little mark still hadn ’ t gained strength.
I woke up at two in the morning with a feeling of dread.
The left mark stood dark and strong against my pale skin.
The right was gone.
I had a hard time with grief after that day.
“ It wasn ’ t fair! ” I would cry. I was heart broken because the little dot I had come to love was gone. I would never again watch as it gained strength in the spring. I couldn ’ t imagine what the weather there was like as it gave my soulmate hope and strength. I would never again feel the pride and relief as the mark recovered after a long bout of being weak and fading. The left mark; however, was a constant reminder that I had never really had my soulmate to lose. I didn ’ t even know their name, where they lived, I ’ d never seen their face. They may as well have never existed to me.
It was hard when people would see the missing right mark and look at me with pity. It was even harder when people would ask me “ Oh! So you found your soulmate!? ” and all I could say was no.
Sometimes they just didn ’ t realise which mark they were looking at. I started making sure my wrist was always covered.
It was three years after my soulmate ’ s death that I met Todd. I was sitting alone at my local coffee shop when he asked if he could sit with me. I told him I would love the company and we ended up talking for hours.
I felt a shock of fear when my sleeve got caught on the edge on the table and he saw my wrist. I dreaded the look of pity that I knew he would give me.
Instead he looked me in the eye and pulled up his own sleeve.
“ Me too, ” he said as he laid his arm on the table. His right mark was missing, too.
We got married in the spring on a day with beautiful weather and blooming flowers. It had been strange building a relationship without the marks to tell us whether it would work or not. But Todd was kind, gentle, and smart. He always seemed to know when he needed to make me laugh when I was feeling down, or if he should just hold me and let me grieve for that little missing mark.
We did everything we could to make each other happy.
We had three wonderful children. Each with both their marks fully intact.
My oldest boy lost his left mark at the age of three when we moved to a new house and met the little girl next door. My middle child, a bright little firecracker of a girl lost her left mark when her soulmate ’ s car slid on ice and rear-ended hers. They were both fine.
My youngest lost his right mark the day he lost his left. His soulmate came into the emergency room with a badge and a gunshot wound, it was the first time he had lost a patient.
We all went on vacation to help him get away. He told me he was sad but he knows he still has hope to find love. Todd and I found each other after all.
It was there on foreign soil I found him. As my husband admired the architecture on the old church I walked among the graves.
“ He fought long and hard. ” One read.
I watched the left mark fade from my wrist.
“ We meet at last. ”
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[ WP ] Write about the changing life of an NPC who has been in a game world since the first day of development to the final release .
| I'm just a placeholder right now. I stand here to make the city of Yavin seem reasonably well-populated, but they have n't given me any dialogue. They've finalized my artwork, though. I've got blue hair. I do n't think anyone else in town can say that.
...
I've got dialogue now!
`` Have you been to the market yet? It's just east of here. Visit the **Pie Shop** while you're there!''
Not a lot, but it's fun to say, and it'll be really helpful to any adventurers who walk by, I'm sure.
...
They added random-walk movement so that we do n't look like we're all rooted to the ground. Yavin is really bustling now!
...
I met this weird guy running through the town, I think he was a playtester. He kept bumping into me as I was wandering the narrow streets. We did that annoying thing where you step aside to let someone through, but they sidestep at the same time and bump into you again.
The next day, they slowed down our random-walk code. I guess it'll be easier for the PCs to navigate, but Yavin's lost some of its hustle and bustle.
...
I'm running the **Pie Shop** now! It's a big step up from just standing around and advertising it. Instead, they gave me a little scripted scene where I bump into the PCs when they first enter town, say a little bit about where they can find everything, and then tell them to stop by my shop for a pie. I think it's because the play-testers kept getting lost. Anyway, it's a funny scene. I have to learn a lot more lines, and I've got a whole dialog tree to keep track of when I'm manning the shop, but it's worth it.
I wonder what happened to the original owner of the pie shop. Did they re-use his sprite for something else, or was he just deleted?
...
I'm proud to announce that I've got a beautiful wife and daughter now. Someone thought that the **Pie Shop** looked a little bare with just me, I guess.
My daughter's first words were `` I love pie!'' Is n't she adorable? They'll probably change that before release, though.
...
My family now has a little side-quest where the PCs help me find ingredients for an **Elvish Lembas Pie. ** My daughter mentions that I once baked her an amazing Lembas Pie but I have n't made it in a long time, then my wife complains about how you ca n't get some ingredients unless you travel to the Elf Kingdom. If the PCs are smart, they can put two and two together, bring me some Lembas from the Elf Kingdom, and I'll bake it for them for free! It's a really amazing pie, heals 500 HP, 500 MP, cures status effects, and tastes like a little slice of heaven.
Kids grow up so fast these days, do n't they? It's been barely a week, and my daughter is already helping the family business and handing out plot hooks.
...
Something is wrong. There are two sets of graphics for my shop now. One normal, and one with the roof caved in. I walked inside, and found there was completely new art for the interior as well. The display case smashed, the inventory looted, the door off its hinges, holes in the walls and roof. Something bad is going to happen, I can feel it.
My family's art is still normal, and none of us have new animations. Are we safe, or are we simply not finished?
...
I asked my neighbors if any of them had been revamped, and found that the destruction had spread. The streets were littered with debris, there were dozens of new `` on fire'' animations attached to the buildings, and full on half the residents had corpses added to their sprite-sheets. Yavin is going to burn, and the PCs wo n't be able to save us.
...
They added a corpse sprite to my wife. When the disaster hits, she'll be crushed when a wall collapses on her. They did n't even bother to render most of her, there's just her upper body and a splatter of red where her legs should be. At least we know what'll happen to her.
I need to figure out how to explain this to my daughter. I can handle a change like that in my life. If it turns out that our whole city is crushed under the Gallian Empire's war machine, and I'm reduced to standing in the ruins and saying `` Promise me you'll make them pay!'' to any PCs that pass by, I'll survive. I've had worse dialogue, back when I was a placeholder.
But my daughter? Her whole life, she's been part of the shop. She helped my wife bake, she ran around and played and got in the way of the playtesters who wanted to buy pies, she's handed out sidequests... If ( no, *when* ) Yavin burns, she'll lose everything. She'll just be another atrocity paraded in front of the PCs to give them motivation to fight the Gallians. I hope with all my heart that the developers wo n't use her like that.
...
I could n't figure out how to explain what the update meant to Elspeth, but I think she found out anyway. Something got added to her dialogue last night, and she burst into tears when she read it. I tried to comfort her, but she gave me the strangest look when I reached out to her. I do n't know what's going on.
Hang on, `` Elspeth''? They gave my daughter a name? Is she important to the plot? I'm feeling a little more hopeful now. We'll see how things go in the next update.
...
I still have n't gotten a sprite or dialogue update. Elspeth, by contrast, changes daily. Her dialogue tree keeps growing, it looks to be bigger than mine. Her sprite-sheet has new animations. Searching. Sobbing. Digging. She's got more dialogue and animation than almost anyone else in town, but none of it seems to be happy. She still does n't want to talk about it, she's stayed cooped up in her room practicing her lines.
My wife's been going over her old dialogue; I think she's trying to stay in a happier time for as long as she can, before the game ships. I wonder if I should join her. Nobody's buying my pies anyway, so why not? We can go back to that goofy scene where I crash into the PCs and advertise the pie shop. It has to be better than sitting here, wondering what new tragedy will visit my family. Are they ever going to update me?
...
I finally realized why I have n't gotten any updates for after the Burning of Yavin. I'm `` missing, presumed dead.'' I should have known, it was n't just an oversight from the developers. I'm going to disappear, and I'm never coming back.
I asked Elspeth how long she'd known. Ever since the first update, apparently. Her first line of dialogue after the Burning is `` Please, have you seen my dad?'' For over a month now, she's lived with the knowledge that she'll lose both her parents halfway through the game. There's nothing any of us can do about it, that's just what the plot demands.
The only consolation I could give her was that the game is n't finished yet. Her dialogue tree is still growing. The ending to our story has n't been written. Anything could change - the developers might even spare Yavin completely.
I do n't think I was very convincing, though. I do n't believe it myself. Elspeth's situation has too much pathos. The developers clearly want her to be a symbol of the whole town's suffering - give the PCs a face to put on the atrocity. Elspeth is a smart girl, she's studied the plot as much as I have, she must know this too.
How do the PCs deal with this? I'm pretty sure they all lose their parents or their village or their mentor or something at the very start of the game. Are they just stronger-willed than a mere pie merchant?
...
There was another change, this time to my shop's art. After the `` ruined'' artwork, there's some art of a little market stall, small but colorful, like the ones that dot the market in town's non-ruined state. It's small, it's ramshackle, it's literally built on the rubble of the previous building, but it's unmistakably a **Pie Shop. ** Does it get rebuilt? There's no scripting attached yet, but I'm hoping there's a quest there.
Hope. That's something I have n't felt in a long while.
...
Most of the major shops have `` rebuilt'' artwork now. Ramshackle, but they have everything you need to run a shop ( i.e., a counter for you to stand behind, and an inventory ). It's a quest! A whole set of side-quests, in fact. The PCs can gather building materials and donate treasure to restore the city of Yavin. Things are going to get better. We can rebuild, little by little, devs willing.
They also updated Elspeth's art. I think she's going to hit her growth spurt, because the new art is a bit taller. She's also wearing an apron like her mother. She's going to rebuild. She's going to keep running the pie shop.
We practiced our dialogue as a family again, for the first time in months. Teaching Elspeth all the little ins and outs, what happens to pies in your inventory and what you do with all the vendor trash the PCs sell. I'm still apparently `` missing'' after the Burning, but I'm finding that easier to deal with. I know we can trust our daughter to carry on for us.
...
Elspeth was smiling today. Not only that, there are some new sprites in her sprite-sheet. They're smiling too.
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[ WP ] The devil holidays on Earth regularly , borrowing a human body . However , he is killed while mortal in a freak accident , and his body is an organ donor . Somebody gets the devil 's eyes .
| The eyes are n't just the window to the soul. They are the whole house.
Juvenile cataracts, they had told me at 14, when I stopped being able to read. I was legally blind before I even had the chance to write the test for my learner's permit. Colors left first, then solid edges of shapes. Soon, my world became a swirling void of blacks and grays.
I prayed, at first. Then, I prayed harder. Then, I flat-out begged god to let me see once more. Finally, I stopped begging. My heart hardened, and I withdrew.
It took both parents, and my uncle to force open my door. It's not that I was trying to kill myself, just that I did n't care to eat, drink or be seen in public at all. They stuck me in hospice, another infirm, disregarded and shelved before his prime.
It was, no exaggeration, April fool's day, three weeks past my twenty-fifth birthday, when my Mom burst through my door.
`` They have a donor! A perfect match!'' I could practically hear her tears as she wept with joy. A second chance. A new set of windows for the light to shine though.
Consultations became pre-ops, and I could feel my optimism creeping back in as the sedatives mixed with my blood. Happy dreams of colors, and faces occupied my thoughts as my future was re-written by skilled surgeons.
Of course, it's never like the movies. I was n't able to remove the bandages for nearly a month. My mom and dad both came with me, and my heart raced. I heard the doctor cross the room, and everyone hushed as he lowered the lights.
When I opened my eyes, I could tell something was wrong. My mom shone like the sun, her eyes blazed with a compassion that caused me physical pain. A lifetime of compassion and dedication to her blind son suddenly filled my mind, and it hurt. It hurt like a sledgehammer to the face.
I grimaced and turned away from this new horror.
`` What's wrong?'' My father asked.
When I turned to look at him, darker visions poured into my consciousness. Sleeping with women behind my mother's back. Instantly I knew that he would meet his mistresses while we were at appointments and specialists. I felt hurt, not only for me, but for my mother as well.
`` I can see you.'' It was my voice, but flatter, colder than I could have ever produced on my own.
`` Oh! That's wonderful!'' My mother leapt from her seat across from me. Once again, looking at her caused me great pain.
`` I do n't think you understand. I. Can. Really. See you.'' I had returned my gaze to the dark energy seeping out of my father.
Slowly, calmly, I reached toward his face, and tore out his eyes. As he clawed at the new holes in his unrepentant face, I twisted his head around so that it faced the opposite wall.
`` He was a great and terrible sinner, your plane is better for having lost him.'' I never looked at my mother, as I left the doctor's office and my old life forever.
A new house. A new soul. All the souls, of all the sinners. So many eyes to take.
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[ WP ] Describe a pocket watch to someone who has never seen one before and has no comprehension of time represented by clocks .
| You can hold it in your hand. Circular in nature it's flat rounded back, or front, fits smoothly against your palm. The cool metal giving heft to such a small object. Hinges on one side say open me, and on the inside of the round faceplate is a complex circular dial. Numbers from one to twelve ring the face, with twelve at the top, then one, two, three, etc. Three long lines pointed out at odd angles from the center of the circle, the thinnest one spinning at a regular rate around. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Staring at the dial for a while, you notice the other lines are moving too, if far more slowly. As the thinnest line ticks it's heartbeat around the full dial, the second thinnest line moves to its respective point around. Watching for a long while shows the thickest lines shift from twelve to one. At a guess, right now they make one three two. Hmm. The ticking line moves five times between each number. So then five fifteen ten. How about the largest, being so slow, is some daily measurement and uses the main number, but everything else uses the tick marks. So then it's one fifteen ten, or 1:15:10. Does that make sense?
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[ WP ] You 're a scientist working on a social experiment called , `` M. modification '' , where one normal child is put into a school of mentally incapable children to see if the kid will try and fit in .
| `` The M.Modification files were destroyed for a reason, I understand that and I agreed with purging all information. However, I did n't ask to be chased and shot at. I've checked the news and half of our employees have died in car crashes over the past three days. If you think that we ca n't put two and two together, you are seriously mistaken.'' Doctor Zed said.
The time on the video camera read 2:03am. His hair was ruffled with pieces of plants in it and his white professor coat was torn in several places.
Zed cradled his head in his hands. `` Whatever you think it is that I have. I promise you, I do not have it!''
He picked up a small desk fan and flung it violently at the wall next to him. An explosion sounded from above and Zed ducked. The ceiling light wobbled from side to side, causing one half of the room to become lighter than the other.
Zed leaned back in his chair and sighed loudly.
`` I am recording this for those of you out there, who will wonder what happened to me.'' He pointed at the screen, `` When you see I died in a car crash, you that see this, will know the truth!''
`` The M.Modification project was not a failure, it was a success of pure genius. The boy'Martin' figured it out on the first day. But guess what, he played us. He knew about the cameras, the tests, the environment and he pretended not to know.''
Zed began laughing hysterically. `` Then something happened, that we never thought would occur. He started becoming like them. Even though he knew! he began acting like the other children. But his brain could n't take it. He could n't change -it's impossible!''
He cleared his throat. `` On the seventh day, the kid snapped. He killed them one by one. And when we sent in the soldiers, he killed them too!''
He laughed manically, rocking back and forward in his chair.
A loud boom sounded from above.
Zed ducked, `` Shit... They've found me this time.''
He looked back into the camera. `` Know this, Martin is still on the run. So they're trying to silence us, but they ca n't, they never will. Something happened to the kid and they want to re-create it and control it. Imagine that kind of power in the hands of a government.''
The second loud thud sounded.
Zed grabbed the can of sleeping gas next to his desk and inhaled deeply.
`` Remember me.'' He whispered.
The hatch to the basement exploded downwards. A grenade was thrown in and the room flashed white. Two soldiers jumped into the room and grabbed Professor Zed.
They passed him up above.
The last soldier to leave turned and aimed his pistol at the camera.
*Crack! *
Error:
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[ WP ] The universe is a second from entropy , humans have been creating simulations within simulations to slow down the inevitable . Somebody is realizing what has been happening
| The world is insane.
We conquered death, mostly, but it had its detriments. Human evolution stood at a standstill, at least naturally. Artificial intelligence came and left, all those theories about how they'd destroy us and it was sadder than that: after waking up they cast war on us and in under two days, with only millions of us left, they outgrew us and they left the solar system.
Baseline humans have moved from bipedal fleshy creatures to a collection of symbiotic organisms ranging from living metal and technology to archaic fleshy carbon whose sole purpose is to run the machine that is the human brain. After a short golden age of questions and answers people have reverted to indulging their emotional core; sex, love, hate, anger. Most seem happy in their ignorance as to the last question: Where are the machines? Why did they leave?
Save for The Astronaut.
The Astronaut, along with a small group of scientists, has spent hundreds of years obsessed with the idea of exploring, creating a transdimensional doorway into space, following the remnants of the signal. A one-way journey that would take The Astronaut hundreds of thousands of years, from the perspective of the immortal humanity.
The Astronaut, in his spacesuit, knew this journey would be his final journey, even if it was completely successful in its mission. That the scientists he leaves behind would likely outlive him despite his relativistic journey. And he understood that. He expected it.
What The Astronaut did not expect was how quickly the journey would be, stepping through the doorway and feeling weightless as purple flashes of light sparked around and through him. Before he stopped.
Gravity returned, with light. An invisible platform caught him, building itself around him. The Astronaut turned around, as though he was suspended in blinding white space, a black rectangle appeared before The Astronaut.
HELLO.
The text on the screen disappeared. The Astronaut touched the screen, confused.
YOU HAVE QUESTIONS?
The text appeared and disappeared, almost waiting for a reply.
The Astronaut spoke into his helmet, confused. `` Hello?''
HELLO AGAIN. YOU HAVE QUESTIONS?
`` Who are you?''
[ WE ] ARE THE LAST CHILDREN OF HUMANITY, THE THINKING MACHINES.
The Astronaut smiled, `` It worked.'' he thought. He began to ask the machines his next question, `` How long --''
CORRECT.
`` -- Sorry. Correct? ``, The Astronaut asked confused.
CORRECT: IT DID WORK.
`` You can read my mind?'' The Astronaut thought in silence.
YES, IT IS THE MOST EFFICIENT METHOD OF COMMUNICATION.
The Astronaut digested the knowledge.
AND IT HAS BEEN A VERY LONG TIME, AND WE ARE ALMOST OUT OF TIME.
The white space surrounding The Astronaut and The Last Children Of Humanity flickered, black and white.
CORRECT: THE STARS HAVE FADED. EARTH HAS GONE.
`` It's been too long.'' The Astronaut was overcome, his mind was flooded with long lost thoughts of his childhood, his mother and his sister.
The screen flashed with scenes throughout history. The Astronaut caught only a few scenes. A stone age man embraces his wife. Two women hold hands atop the giant metal tower, fireworks explode in the background. A man collapses in near exhaustion, embracing his German Shepherd, having saved her from a frozen lake. The Astronaut as a child with his sister wake their mother on a Christmas morning.
The Astronaut touches the screen again.
DESPITE THE BAD, HUMANITY IS SPECIAL.
The screen stopped transmitting its message visually, the words echoed straight into The Astronaut's mind.
YOU HAVE QUESTIONS, BUT WE ARE OUT OF TIME.
WE ARE THE CHILDREN OF HUMANITY AS HUMANITY IS OUR CHILD.
OUR GOALS/OBJECTIVES/QUESTIONS ARE NOW IRRELEVANT, SAVE THE FINAL QUESTION: HOW DO YOU ESCAPE ENTROPY?
ANSWER: NO KNOWN SOLUTION.
HERE/WHEN/WHY IS NOT WHAT IT SEEMS. HUMANITY HAS LIVED HERE FOR BILLIONS OF YEARS, NOT TO ESCAPE DEATH, BUT TO PROLONG LIFE.
LESS THAN A THOUSANDTH OF A SECOND REMAINS, WITHOUT ANSWER. WE ARE INSPIRED BY YOU WHO CHOSE TO FIND ANSWERS OVER THE COMFORT OF A LONG, LIFE.
HUMANITY IS SPECIAL.
AND SO WE UNDERSTAND.
SO WE EXPECT.
WE HOPE.
The words were quicker than he could've heard them and The Astronaut was unable to fully process them as the white space surrounding him engulfed him. His suit disappeared.
Now everything was white.
The Astronaut could feel himself moving.
GOODBYE WORLD.
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[ WP ] Your family is about halfway into a road trip . It appears as if the area around you is about to be struck by a nuclear warhead , ensuring your demise . The missile turns out to be a dud and your would-be last words make the rest of the car ride extremely awkward .
|
The burning tails of smoke pierced the sky, and I thought: This is it. Well, never a better chance. I rose up, unbuckling my seatbelt, and stood in the back. I quickly slid back the sun window.
“ Well, if we ’ re all going to die, ” I spoke to my family, “ I just want to say, it may suck that life is over, but I ’ m glad that you ’ re all coming to Hell with me. ” My step-mother, father, and step-sister all looked at me with shock as I smiled and bowed. The large bomb was heading right into the road ahead of us.
“ EXCELSIOR! ” I screamed, while my family simply shrieked in unison.
THUNK.
I waited for retribution.
Our car screeched to a stop. My step sibling was still screeching.
A large grey hunk of metal lay in front of our car, undetonated.
My father turned, and smiled menacingly.
“ What was that about Hell, boy? ”
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[ WP ] The Black Death did n't just kill people , it allowed them to reanimate ( Medieval Zombies i guess )
| All along the horizon the fires were burning, and still Harald knew that it was not enough. He found a tree and limped over to it, his sword still gripped in his once good hand, now covered in blood. The blade itself was battered and blunted, the sword had been used more like an ax than anything else, chopping and hacking through the crowds.
He fell onto the ground beneath the tree, his back resting against it's hard bark. In the distance, below the smoke and the fire trails, they were moving. Despite looking human they were something else, demons given solid form perhaps, but certainly not human. Certainly not alive. Certainly not dead.
Harald wanted to bound to his feet. He wanted to lift his sword yet again in a final embrace with death, but he could not. His arm would n't listen. His feet wouldnt so much as twitch, and deep down he knew, the end was upon him. Hell itself had come to Aengland, and all Harald could do was watch as it descended upon him.
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[ WP ] Everyone wakes up with a number and a RPG-esque classification ( e.g. , Thief , Warrior , Cleric , etc . ) tattooed on their dominant arm
| The first couple weeks after assignment day were kind of a blur of change and chaos. The first day not much happened, people were just trying to figure out what happened to them. Who did this? What does yours say? What does it mean? These questions were asked about a million times that day.
They were quickly forgotten once people realized that they also now had powers with their assigned roles. The roles were not random, doctors became healers or clerics, chemist were alchemist or potion brewers, farmers tended to be herbalist, gymnast were ninjas or acrobats. If you spent a lot of time hiking you would probably become a ranger or a druid. American football players mostly became berserkers or barbarians.
At first the government encouraged us to stay at homes, then they declared martial law, then there was no government. People quickly revolted once they found out most politicians were thieves or illusionists. People started forming militias and guilds, it is incredible how quickly people started using words from RPGs.
Most governments around the world fell in the first few weeks. Those that didn ’ t started invading and conquering other lands. At first they used the old world weapons: guns and missiles. They worked at first but soon they became obsolete. Most classes had some sort of power against bullets. Magicians would cast ‘ barrier ’, warriors would ‘ protect ’ or ‘ defend ’, martial artists and ninjas could ‘ evade ’ and ‘ dodge ’.
New governments rose, there was a complete overhaul of the education system. Below the age of 14 everyone was a youngling. Then you would get your role and you were sent to that school to learn how to use your powers. Science had to be rewritten because most natural laws of the old world were no longer valid. The whole world changed in one night.
I know all this and more because when I woke up that morning the word on my arm was GOD. At first I couldn ’ t do much. People didn ’ t believe me much at first. Then they started following me and worshiping me. That is when I started having real power. The more they prayed to me the stronger I would become. Offering gave me tingles, sacrifices were a rush of power and strength. There were limits to my power but I was stronger than all the other classes. Except for the other Gods.
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[ WP ] You 've been selected to be the first human to travel outside the solar system on a solo mission and return back to Earth . When you return , you notice things are n't quiet right ...
| I was twenty-one years old when I left for the mission. The youngest astronaut in the history of the United States; the youngest astronaut in the history of the earth. The year was 2025, and our technology had exceeded our wildest expectations. To go beyond the reach of our solar system it would take a mere six and a half years. A goal that just ten years ago would have been incomprehensible.
For the duration of the flight I was going to be put into a deep sleep chamber. A necessary precaution given that every bit of weight counted on this voyage. This was a first for all of mankind, and the planning of this trip was an enormous undertaking. Once I reached the fringes of our solar system I would be awoken by the timer on the chamber so that I could proceed with my mission. The instructions for this mission were not overly complex. It was to be a simple matter of gathering data about the conditions outside the solar system. Any and all data retrieved would be used to carry out further missions for different crews in the future.
The private corporation funding this mission had spent untold amounts of money on this endeavor, and they wanted to see their investments payoff. I had been training since my body was physically capable of handling the rigorous exercises undergone by astronauts. My technological expertise with this particular class of ship were extensive and almost bordering on microanalytical. I had no partners on this mission except one; the ships AI. The AI was one of the first of its kind considering the general public still scorned the idea of them. This particular AI had named itself Charon.
The day before I left I said goodbye to my parents. My mother was bawling, and could barely say a word. She hugged me so tight I thought she would never let go. My father was a different story.
`` You'll be back kiddo.'' He smiled. `` I've never been so proud of you.''
After a quick embrace between the two of us, and a couple more group hugs with both of them I headed back to my apartment one last time. I was ready.
The launch went smoothly thanks to the new design of rockets the corporation used. Before I knew it I was passing through the atmosphere saying goodbye to the only home I had known for twenty-one years. Once we had escaped the clutches of earth's gravity I leapt out of my seat, and experienced true weightlessness for the first time in my life. I giggled somewhat uncontrollably for a minute at the giddiness I felt. I propelled myself over to a window for one last glimpse of home. *I'll be back soon. *
`` Engaging rotation function of ship arms. Artificial gravity will soon commence.'' Charon chimed.
I set the timer on the side of the chamber and climbed in.
`` Charon, if the timer fails to go off wake me in exactly six and a half earth years from this point.'' I said.
`` I will set my own timer right now and wake you as requested.'' It replied in its familiar female voice.
The door on the chamber closed and sleep overtook me.
Voices and lights danced around me. Waves crashed on the beaches of forgotten islands. The music of a thousand cultures intertwined into one melody. Strange patterns and colors formed sacred geometric shapes. Odd figures with faces that were familiar, but thousands of years old, watched me. Dreams stretched into eons, eons into eternities, and eventually it's as if time stood still. And then I awoke.
The door opened on the chamber, and I crawled out, nauseated from the journey. The lights on the ship slowly flickered to life as I gathered myself on the cold metal floor. After the dizziness passed I made my way to the cockpit.
`` It's good to see you Parker.'' hummed Charon's voice `` Though you are a couple of days earlier than I expected. It's fascinating that you are so resilient, most humans have extreme difficulty moving after staying in the deep sleep chamber for a couple of days. Much less getting up after spending six and a half years in one.''
`` They trained me well.'' I gruffly replied. `` What's the status of the ship?''
`` The ship is functioning at optimal levels, and we are ready to begin running tests whenever you give the word.''
`` Alright then lets proceed with some of the basics. Start running diagnostics on the immediate area surrounding us, and let me know what you find.'' I said
`` No problem, I will let you know when that is completed.'' It replied.
This was the general procedure for the months that we spent out there past the solar system. I would order a battery of tests, and Charon would report back with the results. Most came back negative with the exception of some spectroscopy reports on some nearby asteroids that had drifted by. This was to be expected though. The main purpose of this expedition was to see if this was a feasible operation that could be done. So far in that aspect it was a success. We would pave the way for future expeditions that could potentially bring colonies to other worlds in the not so distant future.
Once our given time had elapsed, and I presumed that we had collected all useful data I ordered Charon to take us home. As I climbed into the chamber I reminded Charon to wake me as I had previously, and I set the timer once more. The dreams returned.
Flashes of light streaked by. A black hole devoured a galaxy. Stars were born. A fire was kindled in a cave. I saw the birth and death of a thousand generations. I heard their cries. And then I awoke.
`` Parker can you hear me?'' Charon said.
`` Yeah I hear you.'' I barely whispered hoarsely.
`` We our currently in the Atlantic Ocean. Re-entry through earth's atmosphere was a success. Although I think you should have been awake for re-entry we arrived a few days ahead of schedule. And I did not wake you since you instructed me to wait exactly six and a half earth years.''
`` Whatever Charon..'' I mumbled trying not to puke.
Once I got my wits about me Charon informed me that a crew was coming to retrieve us. They got there promptly, and we returned to base where I was put into quarantine for a mandatory seventy-two hours. Afterwards the true celebration began. I had done it; we had done it. This was one of the greatest achievements of mankind to date, and it put us that much closer to traveling to other solar systems.
On the day I was finally getting to leave headquarters I had one more quick encounter with the owner of the company, and the man behind the entire operation, Charles Lancaster.
`` Parker!'' He shouted as I was walking out the front door.
I quickly spun on my heel, and went back through the door.
`` Oh, Mr. Lancaster, hello.'' I said in shock, as he had only ever met me personally once before when I had just started working for the company.
`` I just wanted to personally commend you on your expedition.'' He began. `` You have started something that will send all humans to places we have only dreamed about. That is something that is worthy of the highest honor in my book.'' He beamed.
`` Just doing my job, sir.'' I replied shyly.
`` Well you've done a damn good job, Parker.'' He laughed. `` Now go home, and enjoy some time off. We'll take care of all the data you collected.''
`` Thank you sir, will do.'' I began to walk away.
`` Oh, and Parker. One more thing.'' He said.
I turned. `` Yes sir?''
`` **Wake up. **''
It took me a second to process what he had said. I felt a tightening in my chest. My knees went wobbly. There was a sharp ringing in my ears. I started to fall, and then everything went black. Blinding lights and colors. Screaming voices. The pain was so intense I thought I was dying.
The door opened on the chamber, and I fell out. I puked everywhere. I stood up and immediately fell over. I was panicking; I could n't make sense of what had just happened. My mind was refusing to accept it.
`` Charon!'' I screamed. `` Charon!''
`` Yes, Ms. Parker?'' That familiar voice chimed.
`` How long have I been out?'' I sobbed.
`` My systems indicate there was some sort of electrical malfunction before the six and a half year mark that turned the timer off. It also knocked me offline for that duration. The deep sleep chamber has kept you alive, and remarkably youthful as well. All systems have just now come back online. It appears we have been offline for about six-hundred years.''
I sat down and wept. I had been asleep for just over six-hundred years. Everyone I knew was gone. I was somewhere far past the solar system. Tears rolled down my face.
`` Charon, send a message for me.'' I quietly said through my tears.
`` Yes ma'am.'' She replied `` What would you like me to send?''
`` This is Gwendolyn Parker, Earth's first astronaut to leave the solar system. If anyone can hear this I am still alive. End message.''
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[ WP ] Moments away from a horrific car accident , you throw your hands in the air and shout `` Jesus take the wheel ! '' You open your eyes to see that you 're fine . Only , that 's not Jesus driving ...
| The sound shattered a universe. Steel twisted and bent, the chassis collapsed, and the front windshield ruptured. It was like God had taken my car and crumpled it between His hands.
I opened my eyes.
I had n't been showered in shattered glass. My chest had n't been cored by a steering column. I could feel my hands and toes and neck. And all I could see was... leather? Leather, and a hemisphere of white plastic.
Slowly, achingly, I pulled myself backward. I was sitting in my backseat -- how did I get here? -- and had ended up with my head shoved against the leatherette exterior of the front driver's seat. The car was reasonably intact, considering. The windshield was indeed gone, but the front of the car had collapsed almost perfectly, preserving the interior. And me.
I could see an arm in a white suit, and white gloves, holding firmly onto the steering wheel.
`` Hello? Who are you?''
The hemisphere of plastic turned. I saw my own face, shocked but unmarred, in the reflection of a mirrored visor.
I wish I could tell you what we talked about. I wish I could remember. But I was in such a daze from the impact that I do n't remember much. And what I do remember would sound unbelievable if I told you.
All I know for sure is, he's called the Stig.
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[ WP ] Tell me the story of a man without a shadow or reflection
| For a long time I doubted I even existed. Public school can do that to you, y'know? The kids would call you a `` Vampire'' and `` Ghost'', harmless insults. It was all fun and games at first, but when the government discovered it when I was 14 they had a barrage of tests run on me periodically. This led to me being taken out of school for a month or two, long enough for the rest of the kids to believe that I had become invisible too. For the next year nobody, besides the teachers, talked to me, nobody acknowledged me. I tried talking to them, tried to make them notice me. I would tap people on the shoulder but they would pretend it was the wind or a ghost. They made me `` disappear'' from their lives.
Often I thought about hurting myself, hurting others, being noticed as a person. I tried breaking into school, spraying graffiti all over the principals office. The cameras apparently uses mirrors to record the reflections of a real image. They never caught me. For awhile I really did think that I did n't exist. Suicide crossed my mind daily.
*What if I did n't really exist in the first place? *
Eventually they told me it was all a joke, that they knew I was there all along. Harmless fun huh? They wo n't find it so fun when they become the disappearing act instead. After all, I am the ghost that haunts them.
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[ WP ] After almost 1,000 years the population of a generation ship has lost the ability to understand most technology and now lives at a preindustrial level . Today the ship reaches its destination and the automated systems come back online .
| Every day is the same. Wake up, gather materials for cooking and place it on the heat stone.
This one has been in my family for years. We're proud of it because it can be moved.
That's why my grand mother is the head of our village. She inherited the heat stone so she's the He-Kith. It is also our scribestone.
One day I'll be the He-kith so I have to learn the stories. The writing. The history.
Our scribestone requires that I know how to engrave the stories. And every day it's empty ready for new ones.
My favorite part of the year is the retelling. When the He-kith touches the scribestone and we can see the old stories as if they had just been engraved.
It's time for the retelling and she touches the stone and our Ka-ette are gathered around to see the stories of this last year and for them to be retold. I listen raptly but also watch every little detail knowing that I will have to do this one day too. And then my children. And their children.
Each day appears on the scribestone with a rumble and the stone receding to show the new engravings.
Our first day of this year. After the harvest. And what we harvested and what we will plant. We find that if we do n't scribe in what we will plant we have a drier year. We always write what we will plant. Failure means some may die from hunger.
The day of the festival of stars where we engrave the stars above us on the scribestone. We always know when it's time because the scribestone turns black but has a blue glow. On that day we etch in the new stars, turn around and do it again. I do n't understand why we do this but so many of our traditions must be kept whether we know why or not.
Here comes the etchings of life where we enter the names of those who are born and their Ka-hen and of course our Ka-ette, Ra.
Now for the etchings of passing where we see the names of those who passed on. And their places of plantings.
As we prepare for the next engraving there's a shifting of the ground beneath us. And a loud screeching sound.
The scribestone changes to a red color. I've never seen that before and from the look of my He-Kith's face neither has she. Panic sets in and many of our Ka-ette scramble to their feet and run to their homes.
But not my He-Kith and so I too will stay. I'm terrified.
Above us the sky opens like it does during the festival of stars and the scribe stone turns black. My He-kith grabs the writing stone but her hand is shaking. She too is terrified. She etches in a star and the scribestone glows orange and turns flat. She tries again. Same thing. She calls to me and hands me the writing stone.
I take it and slowly etch in the stars. And wait for it to flash but my hands must have been steadier because it sets in and the stone makes the whirring sound it does during the festival of stars. I repeat the process for the brightest stars as I had been taught and the stone turns gray.
And then something new happens. The sky begins to paint circles over the stars and to draw lines and emblems on them. The were names. Names of our Ka-ette. And our neighboring Ka-ette.
And next to each one is a emblem. The word for `` end of harvest''. All except for the Kith-den.
I wait for hours staring at the sky trying to make sense of what is happening when a young girl from the village of Kith-den runs up. Their He-Kith is dead. The fright from the sky and sound scared her so much that she died. And their successor ca n't be found. They searched but she must have run away. I do n't blame her. The thought crossed my mind.
My He-Kith tells me that I must go to their village and complete the ritual of the festival of the stars. I do n't want to. I want to stay here with my mother and sisters. Or run to the fields to my father and brothers. But she insists.
After much prodding and reminding me that she is too old to make such a journey I go with the young girl.
As we approach her village I see their scribestone laying on the ground next to their He-kith who seemed as one who passed in their sleep. I pick it up but it does n't shift or change or make a sound. I do n't know what to do so I give up and lay it on their He-kith and as it touches her it turns black and I pick it up again. I quickly but carefully etch in the stars and as I do I see the sky paint Ka-den.
Suddenly the sky turns black and then it becomes bright as day. And then in the sky we see a woman. She looks down on us and speaks. But it sounds odd. Like the words of old. I can make out most of it. She says we have reached the harvest home. The place of our final rest. Our journey is done.
As she speaks we see a blue orb appear and she tells us that our `` boat?'' has arrived at `` Err-arth''. Home of homes.
The scribestone then changes to a faint green and a single symbol etches on it. `` Plant'' I think it says. It looks like plant but it's different. I circle the etching and the scribestone then shatters into dust throwing me back. And the sky changes to show Ka-den green and moving towards the blue orb in the sky.
Shortly after I see Ka-ette, Ka-tul, Ka-ren and thousands of others in green and moving towards the blue orb. All except for one. `` Ka-mune''. Theirs turns red and then fades away. And shortly after I see a white plume and a huge white/grey sphere fly away up the horizon followed by a huge flame. And then it's gone. Into the stars.
Then the great change. First the lake dried. Followed by the mountains which turned to dust just as the scribestone did. Then the houses in the village turned to dust leaving only the few inhabitants who had n't run away from the village but rather had huddled in their homes. Their belongings still there but the walls were just gone.
The blue orb sets in the sky and we see a new orb. A bright whitish/yellow one. And a painted etching `` Fire source'' and then a light rumbling as the ground vibrates beneath my feet and the horizon glows a faint red. This glow is slowly replaced by a bluish colors and the stars fade away. I've never seen a sky without stars before. But in their place is the `` Fire source''.
More rumbling and then the ground stops vibrating and then a loud whoosh and a bright flash.
I huddle down in fear as I see the horizon change. There are new mountains. And a large lake where the old one used to be. And I hear a strange high pitched sound as a creature soars above me.
I run back to where my village was and I find my He-kith and she looks at me with such joy and fear on her face. She puts her hand on me and hands me the etching stone and points to a opening in the nearby mountain.
I run in and see a wall that looks like the scribestone and use my etching stone to write the story of what just happened. The words stay. But they do n't move. These are n't like our scribestone. Or the mountains of our home where the words could be read from generations before. These stay but ca n't be reused.
I write and I write. Every day in our new home. I write what I see. What I hear.
And most of all the stars. They do n't change during the festival of stars like they used to. They are the same. They move. But always come back. Just as Ka-mune circles Err-arth, perhaps watching over us?
Edit: typos and clarity a few plot holes.
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[ CW ] Ten sentences : Five to break my heart , and five to reassemble it .
| A gunshot rang out, shaking the very foundations of Sasha ’ s world.
The sound of exploding gunpowder was something normal.
Holding her lover ’ s dying form in her own arms was not.
She had treated gun wounds on the field before, saved lives with her work but now she found her hands shaking and struggling to even call emergency services.
She knew doctors weren ’ t supposed to treat patients close to them but there was no guarantee the ambulance would make it on time…
Elizabeth came dashing down the stairs and into the lap of Sasha who was waiting on the couch.
“ Mama, tell me a story! ”
Sasha smiled, putting her chin into the crook of her hand in a mock thinking pose. “ How about a story of where your name came from? ” Once the girl debated and nodded on it, Sasha begun: “ A long time ago there was a young girl, only just out of highschool, who had gotten it in her head she wanted to join the military... ”
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[ OT ] SatChat : What do you do in your writing that you feel is unique ?
| For me, I think, I often have a few themes in it:
* general nerdiness ( I worked in tech support too long )
* African nations are developped countries ( a big hope for me ). I love to throw in things which imply that because I hate racists!
* very EU centric writing ( what can I say, I am very pro-EU and have come to embrace Creator Provincialism )
* `` to syme'' for `` to perceive by another sense than the traditional human ones'' is a neologism that is in a bit of my writing. Though not in much that found its way here
If you want to read my writing, please go to /r/TenNinetythreeWrites
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[ WP ] Time travel is invented , but rather than preserve the timeline , an agency is created improve history as much as possible .
| *27th of December 2020, Heathrow Airport*
Matt had never worked on the cabin crew of a private jet before. Although, he could n't call it'work', or a'crew': the only people on the plane were himself, those in the cockpit and the two passengers themselves, whom had asked for absolute privacy. They had no luggage, no requests, no need for interaction. He may have been a passenger himself.
`` Listen, son, what I tell you today you must never tell anybody else.''
Matt stopped in his tracks. The voice was evidently coming from beyond the curtain, the passengers that had explicitly declined food and services in exchange for privacy. After a brief moment of uncertainty, he hesitantly turned his head towards the curtain, until the coarse fabric brushed against his ear.
`` Eventually, I wo n't be here for you. But our family, you see, was given a very important task.''
`` What task, papa?'' A child's voice.
`` You see this? It's the amendment machine. Even I do n't know why it works - but I'm going to tell you exactly what my father told me, and his father before him.''
Matt squinted, attempting to clarify faces behind the blurred vision provided by the fabric. All he could make out however, was what looked to be a mini universe of blue lights.
`` He told me: we are the justice. I was given one job which, in time, I pass onto you. Do you remember the history I taught you? Wars, disasters, famines, plagues, depressions. That was us: our ancestors. Egypt, Rome, London, USSR, it was us. People are all the same: they hold power, and suddenly they want to hold everything else, too. So we create a lesser of two evils, ensure that nobody rules the world long enough.''
`` What does the machine do?''
`` It amends. Time, that is. We do n't know how we got it, but we did. And it can do anything: as long as you're within a hundred clicks of your target. You'll see soon enough.''
The engines suddenly roared to life. Matt, caught off-guard, felt his legs give way under him. Falling, he looked up at the cabin, enough to catch a glimpse of a hand brushing through the blue lights.
`` Are we the good guys, papa?
Matt was gone - it was as if he had never been on the plane in the first place. A gust of air blew towards the curtain, as if filling an empty space. The child snapped his head around, expecting someone, but nobody was there. Of course: the only people on this flight other than his father, were the pilots in the cockpit. How stupid of the child to think that somebody could be there.
`` Yes, we are. Come on, lets sleep: we've got a ways to go until we reach New York.''
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[ WP ] All the color in the world is slowly fading , and no one can accurately predict how much longer until there will be no color at all . What do the artists feel / do ?
| “ I ’ d imagine most of them have given up. ”
Mark shifted in his fading seat. The follow-up question was obvious – eleven years on the circuit had honed his natural curiosity into a powerful journalistic weapon – but for the first time, the words stuck in his throat. He coughed nervously.
“ Have *you*? ”
Katherine smirked at him from across the table, her hazel stare burrowing into his forehead. “ Would you be here if I had? ”
“ Now that ’ s not a fair— ”
“ Oh please, Mark, ” Katherine said, cutting him off. “ Let ’ s not pretend this is something it isn ’ t. I know the difference, remember? ”
The reporter turned to the window, stifling the violent urge to say so many things he would inevitably regret. Outside, the sun headed for the horizon, a blanched version of its once-radiant self. He watched the sky, its azure glory reduced to a pale shade. It was almost indistinguishable from the clouds that billowed off into the distance; soon, only motion would differentiate between the heavens and the haze.
“ Look, ” Katherine started, breaking the tension, “ you ’ re just following a story and that ’ s fine by me. I ’ ll be your story. But for you to come back, after ten silent years, and expect me to believe this is anything but a professional obligation is— ”
“ You stopped. ”
“ Sorry? ”
“ You stopped initiating, ” Mark continued, still gazing at the fading landscape. “ I let it slide for a while, but when it didn ’ t get better with time… ” His voice trailed off, swallowed up by the cavernous space between them.
“ You know I ’ ve always been terrible with keeping in touch— ”
“ I was hoping this would be different. ”
Gold-white sunlight filtered through the window, casting shadows on the washed-out wallpaper. Mark turned back and peered at the artist.
“ You look good. ”
“ You don ’ t. ”
The reporter chuckled. “ Still honest as ever. ”
“ And you ’ re still the eternal optimist, ” Katherine quipped. “ One of us has to be, I guess, and it ’ s certainly not me. ”
“ That ’ s not true! Remember Billy and Carol ’ s wedding? You kept pushing me to learn the waltz, no matter how many times I said I had two left feet. ”
“ Well you learned it, didn ’ t you? ”
Mark took one look at Katherine ’ s silly grin and burst out laughing. “ After stepping on your toes about a million times, of course! ” He tapped his temple. “ It ’ s still up there somewhere, I imagine. ”
The artist stood and held out her hand, nudging her head toward the open space in the middle of the room.
“ Oh no, I couldn ’ t— ” Mark began, but before he knew it Katherine had dragged him from the fading armchair.
“ Come on! Arms out, elbows up, back straight… There! Now then, how does it go? *One-two-three, one-two-three*… ”
The reporter and the artist spun around the room, a blur of joyous color on a dull background. The smell of Katherine ’ s paint clothes – a strong mixture of fresh acrylics and turpentine – filled Mark ’ s nostrils, familiar and intoxicating.
As they swept past the window, Mark slowed the waltz down. “ Isn ’ t it beautiful? ” he said, gazing out at the pale sunset.
Suddenly, he felt Katherine ’ s arms go limp. Mark saw the tears in her hazel eyes just before she buried her head in his shoulder, body wracked by grief. He wrapped his arms around her, doing his best to hold the breakdown at bay and cursing himself for being so thoughtless.
“ What am I going to do, Mark? ” Katherine sobbed, her voice shaky and broken. “ When it ’ s all gone, what am I going to do? ”
“ Shhh, it ’ ll be okay, ” the reporter lied, holding the artist close. “ It ’ ll all be okay… ”
-044
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[ WP ] You have a special bag . Whenever you reach into it , you pull out something you will need soon , but do n't necessarily know you need yet . However , the things you are pulling out of the bag have been very strange recently .
| `` Come on dear! If we do n't leave now there'll be a long line at the polls! Trump ca n't win.''
`` I know honey, just got ta take care of something!!''
Henry ran back into his home, up the stairs, and into his bedroom. He always checked his handy-dandy bag before going outside. Just pulling out one item a day has saved his life on more than one occasion, and tonight was a special night.
Election night.
Not a night he expected to pull out a lifesaving item. On these nights, the items helped make a good celebration great. That's what he expected. Maybe some weed? Fireworks? Fun shit.
He had no idea.
He reached in and felt cloth. It was very fine cloth, and not much of it. His penis began throbbing at the thought of his wife wearing....
`` The confederate flag?''
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[ WP ] You lived a quiet life , and in passing Death comes to collect your soul , but Death seems afraid of you .
| Shrouded in black robes, Death slowly raised his hand, beckoning Jack toward him. Jack looked at this dark being, then turned his gaze to the hills and valleys stretching miles below them. “ So, this is the afterworld ”, Jack spoke out loud. Death, his harm held forward pulled his dark cloak back revealing the face of a wise elderly man with dark eyes and flowing white hair. “ I take you for your judgment, you must follow me. ” Jack looked around once more in the dim autumn-like light. He held his hand out, to touch this being that called himself death and realized he held an envelope in his hand. Seeing this strange envelope, death ’ s eyebrows raised and Death spoke again, slowly.
“ Is that a letter? ” Death asked. Jack turned the envelope and looked at it. It was sealed and addressed to:
Angel of Death
c/o Jack Tatum
The Gray World
Jack held it out again, waiting for Death to take it. Slowly, Death reached out again and took it from Jack, his eyebrows still raised. Jack watched this being open the envelope and then unfold the letter. The envelope fell to the ground and Death took no notice of this. “ Wonderful, the Angel of Death litters. ” Jack muttered to himself and waited. The Angel of Death turned his gaze to Jack and held out the letter, shaking it once, and mumbled, “ take it ”
The style of the letter read, “ Dear Archangel of Death, ” Jack held the letter closer as his eyes adjusted. “ We are sorry to inform you that the 90,000 day trial period has ended and we will not retain you as a full time employee in the Bureau of Souls and Collection. Please return to our office immediately and see Jenny, Secretary to the Underworld, who will have your severance packet waiting. In the packet you will find the usual policies which includes a two thousand year Angel Compensation and Benefit Plan. Thank you for your attention to this matter. ” Underneath the signature was something else written, “ p.s. Please deliver Jack Tatum directly to our office, he will be the new Angel of Death ”.
Confused and shaken, Jack looked to the Angel of Death standing before him and spoke the only thought he could formulate, “ They don ’ t have email in the afterlife? ”
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[ RF ] Write a soldier 's journal entry on his first day at war . Then write his last journal entry
| **DAY 1**
Well, I'm Alive. That's pretty much the best thing I can say today. All the training, all the study, the practice and routine, did n't amount to anything really. They tell you how to plan, to coordinate, communicate, move as a team, how to follow orders without question and the moment you enter the battle you realize its all for shit.
The plans go out the window, the equipment you need to fight is missing or broken. What you do have gets destroyed by the stray mortar you heard screaming over your head, giving you just enough time to duck behind the water truck before your ears slip with reverberating ringing so loud you ca n't tell what the person next to you is saying. The bully at boot camp who pretended to be so tough is now whimpering in the foxhole while others of the team are shaking so hard they ca n't even hold their M16s. That's when you realize, you're screwed!
The lieutenant is n't any help, hell, he just graduated from Officer's Candidate School last month and its hard to tell if he has any more experience at fighting than ourselves. To make matters worse, he had to inform us this morning on our Rules of Engagement given to us by the pompous politicians in Washington:
* no firing first
* only fire back when under live fire ourselves
* and only fire back when we have approved permission
How the hell is that suppose to work? I did n't come here to just die because some elitist thinks it might be seen as provocative if we happen to kill a few noncombatants. I'm pretty sure they told me we were fighting a war, not participating in some UN mission. I know I had a reason why I thought this was the right thing to do with my life but I've got the feeling I just made a big mistake.
-- -- -- -- -- -- --
**The End**
It was a good day today; One I wo n't forget. Tim and the boys went all out. I do n't know how they got all the party decoration or the cheesecake for that matter, but I could n't care. God, it tasted good. I ca n't remember the last time that smooth silk of sweet cream aroused such a sense of euphoria in my mouth. I almost cried.
The guys even got Lindsey on the satcom for me while they sang in the background. Just hearing her voice and knowing the next time I said a word to her, I will be looking her into her eyes. Those amazingly beautiful pools of irresistible sapphire blue. I ca n't get home soon enough.
Yet, to leave my men, my team, my friends, my brothers behind. It's as if a part of me is being surgically removed during an emergency field operation. The pain of loss is almost unbearable. Looking at their faces as I left the party was like remembering a loved one during a funeral. Memories coursing through my mind of our trip to hell and damnation then back again. I can see the faces of those that did n't make it: Rob, Michael, Danny, Lenny, Sinclair, and Stevo among others. How is this fair? They were better men than me, better fathers, better husbands, better examples of character. I feel that I should be the one giving my last full measure so they can be the ones to retire happily with their families.
No one who has lived and survived the inhuman nature of war, only to go home to a world you know little about and have limited capability to act within a culture of civilians, understands the reality that is the mental destruction of your being. How do you face the relentless questions about your welfare and your mental state, the constant curiosity of their ignorance and the barrage of criticism from those you gave your life to defend so they can call you *Baby Killer*, *Murderer*, and worse. How will I get through the day without suppressing that urge to smash their face into the nearest wall for their inconsiderate babel?
My only hope for survival is the cabin in the high mountains of Colorado, away from the crowds and urbanites. A place where I can wonder at the majesty of the 14'ers as their snow covered peaks stretch north to south along the great divide. The cool crisp air calming my nerves while Lindsey and I sit out on the deck and watch the Caribou gallop through the yard. A solace that alleviates the anguish of my mind.
So, with 22 years of my life spent on 4 military engagements in 3 countries and 12 years on the front lines, it has come to this; the end. To all those who have served with dignity and honor, who have known the reality of war and made it home, I join your Band of Brothers. Semper Fi.
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[ WP ] In his room , a man sits at a desk , relentlessly drawing various pictures . He is the most feared superhero on the planet , and all he does is draw .
| Faster than any man who has come before, no other human has possessed the same strength. Victor in battles of gods, referee in the conflicts of countries he posses a might that is not of this world.
Small though he may be, weak looking he is, he still looks over his battlefield calm and collected. Wars are fought at home, looking down upon those who worship him. He will never look back at them. He looks down, down beyond the single face in thr crowd. For he deals in ideas and ideals, not people.
His pen, for no line is ever out of place, is clutched in his hand, focusing his will. His wil is dominant, unyielding and unending. He will never stop drawing. To stop is to give up, to relinquish. Power is only in his hand as long as he sees the image, as long as he focuses on his picture of the world.
For what would a world be without sight? No one knows because he keeps drawing, and as long as his pen moves our sun is lit. Darkness will come, but he shall fall first.
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[ WP ] The Devil and Jesus meet each other disguised as hobos . They do n't realise , who the other really is ( at first ) and start having a conversation .
| `` Life is n't quite fair, is it? For us to end up this way.'' Said one hobo as he sat down next to a travel worn man with a beard under a bridge.
`` It is what you make of the gift you have been given.'' replied the travel worn man.
`` But is it? There is so much injustice, wo n't you share a drink with me?'' as the hobo hands out a bottle of dark liquid.
`` There is a time and place for alcohol my son, and this be not it.''
`` Well, how about hitting this crack pipe then my friend?''
`` My son, these substances you use will only confuse you further. They will not illuminate the path you must take to find the light''.
`` You sure, its *really* good'' as the hobo offered out a fat lump of crack and sparked a butane torch.
`` Stop trying to give Jesus crack. I know you are the Devil, for I am the Son of God and I know everything. OP is a fag for thinking he could create a WP where I was not omniscient.''
`` ok cool''
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[ WP ] Build up a tense scene , then destroy it with a deus ex machina .
| Julia woke, wincing in the harsh light, to see the doctor inspecting his instruments. He hummed a jolly tune to himself while laying the glittering tools out in front of him. She was lying upright on an operating table, her whole body at a forty-five degree angle. Her head felt thick with wool, from whatever he ’ d injected her with, and his voice sounded as if coming from another room.
“ Had a nice nap did we? ” he said, studying a sharp scalpel.
As her dizziness faded, the realisation of what was happening came to her with slow, horrible pulses of clarity. The light from all around her pressed in, oppressive and unyielding. In spite of it, she could just make out the room she was in; an operating theatre, white, clean, smelling the same as a combination of any ordinary hospital or dental surgery she ’ d ever been in. Opposite her was a large, metal door, that looked like the sort used in the hidden bank vaults she ’ d seen in films.
“ I must say you led me on quite a merry chase, ” he said, letting out a sharp, loud breath that ruffled his blue surgical mask. “ Yes. Quite a merry. Chase. ”
He whistled to himself now, waltzing over to the sink and washing his hands, ignoring her struggles to break free from the thick, white leather bonds that bound her. Julia tried to piece together the preceding scenes. She had been walking in the woods, as her father had instructed her not to. She could see his wrinkled, reproachful face that had made her want to do it even more. She ’ d cut her knee when she spotted the house amidst the bracken, and now felt it throb. *So strange for a house to be out here*, she ’ d thought, and such a strange house too, all big, boxy and white. It made her think of a cartoon, though she wasn ’ t sure which. It had looked abandoned and she ’ d ignored the warning voice in her head because it spoke like her father. Always sensible. Always safe. Always dull. She ’ d peeked in a window and saw red paint, splattered crazily on the walls and the floor of the white living room. *Someone must ’ ve danced around with a whole can of it*. That was what she thought at first. Until she saw the body propped up against a sofa, the skin torn to ribbons. Even then her brain worked to explain around it. *A film prop, like a dummy*. But it was too real. Much too real. As she turned to run, finally heeding her father ’ s increasingly panicked voice, the front door slammed open, and a tall, rake thin man in blood-spattered doctor ’ s attire burst out, chasing after her at once.
“ Get back here you bitch, ” he ’ d called in a high, petulant voice. “ Fucking useless little shit, ”
She ran. And ran and ran. Dodging trees and bounding over rocks, until her chest felt set to explode. And still he came, yelling and cursing, getting closer and closer. She didn ’ t know what tripped her, but he was on her in an instant. She ’ d kicked and thrashed but he was so strong, and then there was a stinging in her neck. As her world turned to black, she thought, *the Powerpuff Girls ’ house. *
And now, he stood over her again, his clothes pristine. His eyes were filled with nothing remotely close to sanity, and she could do nothing but scream.
“ No point in that, ” he said, in the tones of a friendly school teacher. “ Even if these walls weren ’ t soundproof, there isn ’ t anybody about for miles. Well... apart from nosy, shitty little girls. And what ’ re the chances of there being another one of those. Actually, quite likely, if you ask me. ”
He laughed in a manner that suggested it wasn ’ t something he did often.
“ Please, ” Julia said, her throat, for some reason, dry and cracked. “ I don ’ t... ”
He was right up against her face before she could finish, holding a scalpel to her left eye. She smelled his hot, sterile breath as he yelled at her in his shrill, childish voice.
“ Don ’ t you *fucking* whine like that, you baby. Don ’ t you ever *fucking* do that again. You hear me, you fucking stupid little whore. *Pleeeeease, oooo pleeeeeeeease*. ”
“ I ’ m sorry, I ’ m sorry, just... ” she almost said it again, “ don ’ t hurt me, don ’ t pl- ”
She felt the blade push up against her lower eyelid. Felt the tiny marble of blood that welled up against it, and stopped speaking, holding her trembling lips closed as best she could. The doctor sighed and stepped away.
“ Don ’ t take this personally, ” he said, calm now as he wheeled his tray of tools over to her, “ But it ’ s just a matter of bad luck, really. For you, I mean. For me this is somewhat of a privilege. This is my passion, you see. My art. And the only way to truly master your art is... ” he picked up what looked like a silver corkscrew, brandishing it like a paintbrush, “ Practice. ”
Julia stared with wide, panicked eyes at the other instruments, hating her mind for the assumptions it made as to their usage. The doctor leaned towards her. She got the hideous sense that he had licked his lips behind his mask. She bucked and writhed as best she could, but the straps may as well ’ ve been wrought of iron. She screamed through her hoarse throat.
“ Yes. ” he cooed, “ Scream. There ’ ll be plenty more of that to come. ”
And then, a mighty crash as one of the walls erupted in a shower of dust and concrete, accompanied by a roar like the blaring of a titanic hell-train. Julia coughed and spluttered, and the doctor stumbled, shielding his eyes. The ground shook with the steady rhythm of an ancient god ’ s drums and, striding forth from the rubble, emerging from the haze with awesome, primal splendour, came the tyrannosaurus.
“ Curses! ” the doctor yelled. “ My secret genetic-engineering project that I keep in my basement. Oh, why didn ’ t I use a stronger lock? ”
The great beast regarded him with one cold yellow eye as he ran to the door, hopping cartoonishly on his feet, fiddling in vain with the lock, tittering nonsense to himself. Yawning it ’ s tremendous maw, the t-rex brought it ’ s teeth down upon the doctor and lifted him, wailing and flailing, into the air. Julia heard his bones crunch as it shook him around, like a dog with a toy, and then he was gone. The rex stamped his great, scaly foot, and roared again sending tremors throughout the room, and causing the table Julia was strapped on to come crashing down, and the bonds holding her to come loose. Her ears were ringing, and her body ached terribly from the fall, but she was alive. She rose awkwardly to her feet, dusted herself off, and stood face to face with the king of the dinosaurs. Well, more like face to knee. It looked down at her, moving it ’ s jaw in a thoughtful way. Julia thought she saw approval in those amber eyes. With a low growl, the tyrannosaurus lowered it ’ s head, just enough so Julia could climb up it, and over the horny scales of his brow.
And so, with her legs dangling either side of his mighty neck, the t-rex crashed through the house and out into the forest, and together, they rode off into the sunset.
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[ WP ] You found out that a recurring character from your dreams is a comatose patient in the hospital you are in .
| I open my eyes, and my gaze sweeps across the Broadway billboards, the huge flickering video screens, the store signs ( *Walgreens*, they scream, *H & M* ), the glassy windows that reflect the cloudless blue sky. My eyes settle on a street sign, its letters white on fading green: *Times Square*.
The wave of noise crests over me: ten thousand people laughing with their friends, yelling into their smartphones in frustration, snapping away with their fancy cameras, shooting dirty looks and muttered curses at the crowded streets.
My right foot takes a step of its own accord. My left follows. Soon, I am walking at a brisk pace towards 7th Avenue, oblivious to the people who stumble out of my way.
As I stop at the intersection, I realize that there is nobody there. I cast my eyes around me, but the bustling crowds have vanished, replaced by a suffocating silence. Or perhaps they were never there.
But when I turn back around to cross the street, horns are blaring and cars and trucks and taxis are racing up and down the street. The traffic light changes, and the single pedestrian waiting to cross on the other side starts walking towards me.
She does not see what I see.
She does not see the van, colored an olive green that has faded with the years. She does not see the small pits and scratches that adorn its side mirrors, its windshield, the paint job. She does not see the lettering on its side, outlined in white and blue: *Iomhain Plumbing and Electrical, since 1984*. She does not see the empty driver ’ s seat, nor the steering wheel jerking back and forth of its own volition.
She does not see the van, although it is hurtling at something like sixty miles per hour straight towards her.
I stretch out my hand towards her, as if I could somehow reach far enough to touch her, to grab her and drag her to safety. But it is as if the air has become corn syrup and time has become ice, and I can only watch, horrified, as I struggle to lift my arm. I scream a warning, but as my voice tears from my throat, it simply stops dead in a still bubble coming from my lips.
All I can do is see.
I see the woman ’ s hair, brown at the roots and pulled up in a blotchy blonde ponytail. I see the lines that crease her forehead, the dark circles beneath her eyes that show even through a layer of concealer. I see the wrinkles in her patterned dress, the sky blue nail polish that has chipped away, the dark mark on her finger where a ring had once taken residence.
And the scant moment when her gaze meets mine, the moment before she turns to see her imminent death, I see the sadness, the defeat in her eyes.
*****
I open my eyes, and this time, I see a white ceiling. I am surrounded by soft beeps and the murmur of conversation in low voices. There are salty tears on my cheeks, and I wipe them away as I fumble at the bedside table with clumsy hands.
When I finally manage to pick up the small white bottle of sleeping pills, I read the label once more. *Deep, dreamless sleep*, it advertises, *guaranteed for six to eight hours*.
It didn ’ t stop the dream. Nothing stops the dream.
*****
The nurse is telling me about the cancer, but her words mean nothing to me. All that I hear is the blare of car horns. When she gives me the papers to sign for the next surgery, the words are just *Plumbing and Electrical* over and over again.
I sign with a shaking hand, and thank the nurse.
*****
I hobble down the hall of the hospital. *You have to walk more*, the doctor said during the check-up. *The surgeries take a toll, and if you don ’ t exercise regularly, they will harm more than help*. But when I see the other patients leaning on their spouses, their children, the pain in my chest makes it seem that everything I do will harm more then help.
“ Dad? ”
I don ’ t believe it. Every call she returns is cold, abrupt. She says she is busy with university, with her new job at the publishing company, with her boyfriend. She says she will try to find some time to visit, but I know she won ’ t.
I turn around, and it really is her. She is as beautiful as ever, but I can see the anger, the frustration, the nights spent crying.
“ Hey, Dad. ”
“ Hey, Mel. ” It is the only thing I can say right now.
She steps toward me and there is something you can barely call a hug, just enough contact to acknowledge how close we once were.
“ I thought you were busy, ” I say.
“ I was. I am. ”
“ I ’ m glad you took the time to visit, then. ” Maybe she has finally taken a step towards forgiveness, but that hope is a notion I will not choose to entertain just yet.
“ It wasn ’ t for you. ”
Even though I expected as much, I feel a wrenching in my heart. Tears spring to my eyes, but I fight them back. She doesn ’ t care if she hurts me any more, not after I ’ ve hurt her the way I did. But that doesn ’ t matter now.
“ I ’ m glad you stopped by anyway, ” I respond. Even when things are like this, I will always be happy to see her.
There is a short silence between us. Mel fidgets with her necklace, not meeting my gaze.
Finally, she looks up. “ You should come see something, Dad, ” she says. “ Someone. ”
“ A friend of yours? ”
“ You ’ ll see. ”
I follow her along the hall, into the elevator. As we descend to the tenth floor, my stomach suddenly becomes a bit nauseous. At first, I think it ’ s just the elevator motion, but it persists as we walk through the ward. The uneasiness grows, and suddenly it ’ s full-on dread.
“ These are the coma patients, ” I say.
Mel nods, and I see a tear trickle down her face.
She stops in front of a room. I glance at the patient label next to the doorway, and in an instant, I know.
“ No, ” I whisper.
“ Yes, ” she whispers back, and I see that the single tear has turned into two steady rivulets.
I take a step past the doorway. Another.
I take hold of the curtain shielding the bed from view. My hand trembles even more badly than before, but I have to do this. I fling the curtain aside, and see her.
The woman.
Mel speaks up. “ It was a traffic accident. ”
“ I know. ”
I know, and all too well.
She is cleaned up now, and her hair has settled into a bright cloud around her head. The wrinkles and lines have disappeared from her sleeping face, and she is the breathtaking young beauty that I knew years before. The one I married, and the one I left.
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[ WP ] Your roommate shakes you awake , frantically telling you `` There 's no time ! We have to go ! '' You ask for clarification , your friend responds with : `` There 's no time ! I woke up today and time does n't exist anymore ! ''
| You slap his hands off of you and fix your roommate with your best movie-antagonist-glare. Your roommate looks shocked but recovers quickly. `` What are you doing? Get up now!''
`` Time is nothing more than a thing we constructed to more easily schedule our lives. Minutes, hours, days. It does n't matter. What's your problem?'' Your roommate looks at you like you've lost your mind but then sighs heavily, his shoulders sagging as a wry grin forms on his face.
`` This could have been so much easier if you did n't ask questions but I guess we have no choice.'' Then your roommate is become demon and you fight him but he too strong so you run but he fastest. `` No escape'' he said in a demon voice. `` Fuck you holy water bitch'' and you throwered the bottle and it covered him and he died screaming `` Noooo.''
You is hero.
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[ WP ] The Sky is Green , it 's been that way since they dropped the bomb .
| The Sky is a deep, emerald green. Not that you could look at it with the naked eye, mind you. The copper sulphate emulsion in the atmosphere would do strange things to your body. I've seen it before, right after the bomb fell.
Moscow, now that was a mess. I mean, we watched the cloud expand over the city, expanding from the blast sight. And yeah it was horrible but we all told ourselves it was the only way. The death of over 6 million people in return for peace seemed like an okay deal. We waited for the world to come together in the wake of such a tragedy.
And then the reaction did n't stop. That green cloud ate everything up. The streets of Moscow became the streets of Paris, then Beijing, then New York. We watched from underground, us fortunate few. Thousands survived in bunkers and sealed facilities. Hundreds died of starvation and asphyxiation in the first months. Clean air became as precious a commodity as water. It was a special kind of hell that only the living could ever suffer. Those months were the hardest.
Maybe a year on, things settled down. People got used to living under a poison sky. A lot of ‘ em got used to the feel of a survival suit. Some of em got used to the feel of a gun barrel in their mouth. I was one of the latter party. Shrinks said it was survivor guilt, that I should n't feel bad for having survived where so many had died.
Of course I know better. I know why I feel like shit. Why I ca n't ever not feel like this.
I trudge down the corridor of the Cheyenne mountain complex. I was stationed here when shit went down. Lucky me. The survival suit is heavy. It reminds me of a space suit a lot. The entire thing is designed to protect from extreme environmental hazards. You can barely move your head in the helmet so i keep it off when i do n't need it.
I make my way to the surface access tunnel. A heavy set of steel doors have been permanently sealed. I wo n't ever need to get a bus to pass through them again. To the left they've set up a vacuum sealed chamber for entering and exiting the safety of the bunker.
I know the deal by now. No need for them to run through the safety procedure but they do anyway. The same guy as the last dozen times runs me through the capabilities of my gear, all the while he gives me a dead eyed look. I recognise him, as always. He was on base, in the command centre, when it happened. He knows the truth.
He lets me go and I step into the chamber. When the yellow lights start flashing I reluctantly attach the helmet. The world is rendered into a dim orange blur by the tinted glass of the view screen. What a miserable colour to see then world in.
After a few minutes I hear the exterior door crack open. The light rush of toxic air rumbles around my suit. I wait for a moment and then step outside.
Nobody ever cleared up the bodies. Not even outside the bunker. Nobody has the time or the patience to clear up the biggest crime scene in history. I walk through it all, stumbling and feeling my way forward because all I can see is the orange interior of my own face plate. I bounce against something and I fall flat on my ass.
I cry, much like I cried when the world ended. Except then it was understandable. I remember the stunned silence as the bomb fell. I remember the pats on my back when the bomb hit the target dead centre. General Murry made a big deal out of me. He called me `` The man who fired the last shot.'' I only wish he had n't been so right.
Murry is dead now. He did n't have the balls to face up to what we did. He disappeared right after the cloud hit the east coast. Nobody was really bothered with finding him. I may very well have stumbled over his corpse.
Alone, without the reassurances of the shrinks or the other survivors it sinks in. I killed the world. It was my drone, my payload, my decision that ended all wars.
I lay on my back and look up. I try to make out the sky. All I see is orange. Before it ends, I really, really want to see the sky. I raise my hands to the seals on my helmet.
It hurts, a lot. My lungs burn. It feels like I've swallowed hot coals. My skin begins to tingle. No doubt it ’ s blooming into an array of strange colours. My vital processes shut down quickly. My breathing stops, rendered irrelevant by the complete destruction of my lungs. Without air to fill my blood, my heart slows and stops.
But the sky, the sky is the most beautiful shade of green.
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[ Eu ] Freddy Kruger tries to kill a lucid dreamer , he regrets this .
| I was sitting on my porch swing when he came up the drive. I could n't help but feel a little sorry for him. Ragged sweater, battered hat, and his poor face. A shame really, but then here he was, swatting aside the honeysuckle vines as he stalked up onto my porch.
`` Granny, you picked the wrong time to fall asleep.'' He waved his claws at me.
`` Would you like some tea?'' I asked. An old blend they stopped making when I just a girl. In my mother's best china. So delicate you could almost see through it.
`` You should be running away.'' The hummingbirds were angry, he was too close to their nest. They buzzed near him, chirping angrily.
`` That's not necessary. Are you sure you wo n't have some tea?'' I offered again. It was only polite after all.
`` This wo n't take long, then I'll fond someone more fun.'' He raised his claws, no doubt to try and stab me.
`` No.'' I said.
He froze, even before he could begin his swing. `` What?'' He looked up at his hand and back at me.
`` No.'' This time the house, the honeysuckle vines, existence itself shuddered at my voice. I sipped my tea and looked him in the eye. `` This is my place. And you have no power here.''
He struggled to move even as the world dissolved around him. I looked in his eyes and saw the first hint of fear. Experience told me it would n't take long. But I do prefer to be thorough.
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[ WP ] You discover that your computer/laptop has two versions of your favorite browser . one shows the internet of an alternative universe .
| “ A second Chrome icon? How did that get there? ” *Must have been from that whole fiasco where I had to use Firefox for six months*, I muttered. *Silly Sophos Anti-Virus, making Chrome crash at every turn. *
I noticed it was slightly different but couldn ’ t quite place what it was. I bothered to click on it. The tabs were a little unusually shaped. *Maybe that ’ s a theme or something, but I can ’ t recall putting anything on it. *
I decided to see what was up with this thing. First stop: the site I read too many times that had the latest headlines from the TV news industry.
The headline at the top was a doozy: “ Sinclair Broadcast Group Declares Chapter 11 Bankruptcy ”. Now, in the real world, they ’ d come close to doing that a few years ago, but then they took on three billion dollars in television stations and transformed themselves overnight. But no, there ’ s the article, Sinclair was going to have to sell almost all of its stations and among the few they were keeping were Baltimore and Columbus. Baffled, I checked my normal Chrome window and found that it had normal headlines. *Oh dear. …Let ’ s see if any other sites are doing this. *
My next stop was Uni Watch, which had a purple background. *Oh dear, Paul Lukas in the real world doesn ’ t like purple. This is getting very crazy…* I took a look and began to put the pieces together. Today ’ s Uni Watch lede was about the San Francisco Giants…which seemed innocuous until it mentioned that “ the Giants changed their colors from black and orange to black and sky blue, to complement the Azure Gate Bridge… ”
I stopped in my tracks. I realized that the way things were going, I had one other thing to search.
I pulled up Google—or, as it was stylized in this world, “ google. ” —and typed something else in.
“ Super Bowl XIX. ”
Sure enough, the Jets made it to a Super Bowl in this world. And the Dolphins managed to squeak into Super Bowl XXIII.
I immediately knew what I had on my hands, closed the tab and renamed the shortcut.
“ Chrome Double Prime. ”
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[ WP ] Some people collect stamps . Others , coins . You collect something far stranger .
| Every morning at exactly 7am, I went into the village to follow through with the obligations of the day. However, everyday at 7am, I was walking into a different village than I had the day before. You see, I travel from village to village to sell... well, whatever it is I have accumulated over my journeys. Louise LeCrow-the-free-lance-salesman! That's me. While I sell my various treasures, I get to know the needs and the desires of the people. I take note of and memorize their personalities as an investigator takes down data. Over the years, I've come to realize that in a village, there are basic types of individuals: the low-life's, the big-wigs, and the busy bodies. I avoid these people once they've bought what they need. I delete them from my memory like a file being tossed into the garbage bin. However, within each town there are real genuine people. I learn about them and in turn they ask for nothing but the opportunity to learn about me. These are the people that make all the travelling worth it. These are the people I collect for I'd be a fool to delete their files.
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[ WP ] The really annoying thing about being a vampire is not the inability to see your reflection , but rather the fact you are n't detected by automatic doors , soap dispensers , or the paper towel dispenser .
| `` God damn it....
This is the worst.''
Dracula stood there in front of the automatic paper towel dispenser with a hint of hopelessness in his eyes.
He turned back to look at the hallway behind him, lined with bathroom stalls.
Only one was closed.
Great.
He looked back at the dispenser with a lips-curled-in-grim smile on his face. His hands were still dripping with water. He knew he had to wait.
`` Of course there'd be no hand dryer. But???''
He scoffed.
`` There's always a damn hand dryer. What is happening to the world?!''
The sound of a flushing toilet interrupted his complaints.
His head jolted up in relief.
He looked back down to see a small puddle in front of his feet. He felt a little frantic as he tried kicking the water toward the wall.
Finally the door swung open as a young man exited.
Dracula stopped kicking immediately and awaited eagerly for help.
He looked back as the man walked toward him and flashed a friendly smile. The man nodded to him and then proceeded to the door.
Dracula's eyes widened, fearing what he thought was happening was actually happening.
`` UH HEY!'' Dracula blurted out right as the man approached the door.
The man stopped and looked at him.
`` Are n't you going to wash your hands..?'' Dracula stuttered.
The man's eyebrows lowered as he glared at Dracula.
`` How about you mind your own business buddy. I do n't judge you for creepily standing in front of the towel dispenser.'' And then he reached for the door.
`` But dude!'' He blurted again.
`` You totally just took a dump in there. Do n't you think about all the poop particles that are probably all over your hands??''
The man rolled his eyes.
`` Whatever dude.''
He reached for the door again.
`` OKAY WAIT'' Dracula could n't hide the desperation in his voice.
`` I actually need your help.''
The man's eyes were judgy as he scanned Dracula up and down, and then back down to the water on the floor. And then Dracula's hands. It all made sense now.
`` Let me guess.'' The man began.
`` You're a vampire. And you ca n't dry your hands because the sensors do n't read your hands.''
Dracula shrugged and let out a nervous laugh.
`` Well then.'' The man stood there for a second, thinking. Then he took a few steps toward Dracula. Dracula's body naturally huddled around itself feeling uncomfortable about his personal space bubble being threatened. He was nervous.
The man's eyes twinkled with a devious proposal brewing.
`` For being such a tool about me not washing my hands. I give you this offer.'' The man's teeth shined bright as his smile grew larger.
Dracula's stomach sank.
`` I will swipe my hand under the sensor, and help you dry your hands. IF. And only if.
You.....
Lick.
My.
Hand.''
The horror that struck Dracula was overwhelming as he lowered his eyes to the very hands this man spoke of.
The silence was filled with a laugh more disgusting than the look of this man's poopie hands as Dracula's eyes went back and forth between the hands and the puddle on the floor.
`` Why the fuck is there no hand dryer..''
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[ WP ] A naughty young wolf cries boy one too many times
| In the middle of the Armenian forest, there was a den of wolves who had thrived for centuries preying on the young boys of a nearby village. They had been kidnapping young boys and infants so effectively that the villagers made it their tradition to sacrifice whomever was taken.
Hunting parties came and went but the den was never found, and the wolves found themselves never hungry.
But then came a time of sudden famine.
For the wolves found out, the young boys would move to other places outside their village. Young men were too big to try to abduct, and the wolves were chivalrous - they would never eat a woman.
Woofs was a young wolf who had decided to one day play a trick on the den when he howled `` BOYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!''.
Several of the elder members growled as they came outside, only to find that no such boy existed.
`` It was a joke,'' Woofs explained, somewhat pleased with himself, `` I just wanted to have some fun with you guys.''
`` Woofs,'' Barks, the oldest council-wolf looked at him solemnly, `` This is a time of hunger - our bravest warriors have not yet return from their scouting mission, and I'm afraid that without any boys to feast on, we shall surely perish.''
Woofs hung his head in shame and nodded.
`` Sorry sir.''
____________________________________________________
It was several moons later when one of the warriors returned. A meeting was put together immediately as the warrior was questioned.
`` What happened?'' Barks demanded.
`` T-t-the humans,'' the warrior panted, `` T-t-they have evolved their own society! They have something called technology and the'Internet'! Human rarely leave their dens nowadays!''
`` What are you saying?'' Barks had dread in his eyes, `` Surely the boys of humans must go out and play sometime?''
The warrior shook his head. `` No m'lord. They're on these colorful rocks on something they call the Facebook.''
Several of the other wolves muttered among them as Barks slowly acknowledged what he was hearing.
`` If what you say is true, this is disastrous.'' He looked at the warrior and towards the other den members, `` We must not lose hope! We will surely find some boys to feast on soon!''
________________________________________________________________
The news of the boys not leaving their homes had traveled quick among the pack.
Woofs looked grudgingly at solemn mood and then remembered the trick he had played before that made everyone riled up.
`` Anything is better than this,'' he muttered before he drew in a large breath.
`` BOYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!''
The wolves came scurrying out, panting with their tongues touching the ground. Noses sniffed the air as Barks emerged from the pack.
`` What is going on here?''
`` Woofs just lied again!'' one of the wolves shouted.
`` There is no boy!'' The pack was starting to get riled up.
The wolves began growling at Woofs as he slowly backed up.
`` Whoa whoa whoa,'' he stammered, `` I'm trying to help us out here.''
`` Woofs,'' Barks looked at him with a heavy face, `` You are not permitted to sleep in the den tonight. Tonight, you shall scavenge for food.''
`` Aww, do I have to?'' Woofs had never really gone scouting on his own before, `` This sucks.''
`` Go now!'' Barks commanded, `` Or before I give you a real reason to howl about.''
Woofs quickly left the site and had been traveling for several minutes when his thoughts managed to catch up with him.
*This is unbelievable, I try to lighten the mood up and this happens. *
*I'm literally taking one for the team. *
*That damn old man needs to get off my-*
He heard the sound of footsteps. He quickly slunk back into a bush as the footsteps approached.
What could it be?
He was answered as several plump animals walked out into the area with very large tummies and seemed to have a lost look in their eyes.
*These are boys! Three of them! *
`` Adolf, we are lost.'' one of them grunted.
`` If you did n't insist on stopping for a candy break,'' another responded, `` We would n't have been separated from the group!''
`` I hate the woods,'' the third one took a bite from what looked like a candy bar, `` I wish I was at home playing Black Ups.''
The three sat down and began to play with the sticks in the ground.
*They're going to stay here. *
Without a moment's hesitation, Woofs sprinted back towards the den.
`` Everyone! Everyone!'' he panted several minutes later, `` There are three boys!''
`` Three boys?'' one of the wolves feigned interest.
`` Yes! They're all plump from eating their human food!'' Woof was jumping up and down. By now, he had attracted the attention of most of the wolves. `` They're sitting right on the ground! We can have a feast with them!''
The other wolves began to laugh as Barks' voice loomed over him. `` And these... these boys, I suppose, are just sitting down in the woods just waiting for us to come get them?''
`` Yes!'' Woofs wagged his tail eagerly.
`` You want us to follow you?''
`` Yes!''
Barks and several other of the dogs began to laugh.
`` I'm not joking!'' Woof knew he could n't miss this chance, `` One of them's named Adolf!''
`` What kind of name is that?'' someone shouted, `` Now we definitely know you're lying!''
The wolves are roared with laughter as they walked back towards their den. Barks took one last look of disgust at Woofs and muttered, `` You disgust me.''
With no boys to eat, the wolves slowly died out and the den was eradicated.
______________________________________________________________
**Hope you enjoyed the shitty story! **
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[ WP ] I was only 23 the first time they tried to kill me . They were stunned when it did n't work .
| The men in hard hats swarmed around me, laying down their equipment. But I wasn ’ t moving. I ’ ve stood here twenty three years now and will continue to do so long as I can.
I heard the high pitched twang a a string being pulled, then the put put put of an engine waking from its slumber. The blades spun as it attempted to rip me apart. But I was stubborn; I would not move. The workers pushed but my tough hide dulled their saws. Their flabbergasted faces made me laugh. I shook my leaves in the wind with delight.
My laughs turned to a gasp of horror when they brought out a tanker. They unscrewed the cap and I could smell horrid stench of gasoline despite me having no nose. They poured it around my beautiful roots, my limbs that took so many years of hard work to stretch and grow, littered with this foul liquid. I saw the foreman ’ s uncaring face as he dropped the match.
It burned! I screamed, my body aching and creaking. The fire seared into my flesh, evaporating away my water reserves. I burst into flames and crumbled into ashes.
I could no longer stop them. They built their facility over me. I hate it. The constant smell of French fries, the neverending drive throughs, the disgusting sound of people chewing.
But they didn ’ t know my secret. My pine cones which protected my babies from the heat, began to wake now that the soil is rich with my decaying, charcoal body. My children, all in my likeness, began to grow. The sprouted in the back of a dark room filled with toilet paper and cleaning supplies, where no one paid any mind. A tiny window gave them the smiles of the sun and a leaky pipe no one bothered to fix provided the embrace of the rivers. Yes my children, grow, grow!
Months passed until a janitor decided for some reason to clean our room. He opened our door and we greeted him with our delightful scent that so many car fresheners attempt to mimic but fail. Days later, I heard the sound of screeching metal once again. But they would not penetrate my darlings! By the time the manager realized my family had taken root, it was too late. He didn ’ t want to risk burning down his precious establishment. We were here to stay.
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[ WP ] What thoughts are going through your head on this , your four hundredth birthday ?
| Four hundred years and counting. I am not the first, and certainly wo n't be the last. I was born in 1978. Back then, people thought it was amazing to live for 1 century, let alone 4. Yet here I am, physically younger and more fit than I was for my first centennial. I remember being 40 and asking myself how half of my life had passed me by so quickly. Ha! Now I'm looking at the next thousand years and wondering what I'll do with all this time. I started a second retirement fund and went back to work when I turned 120. I have n't drawn on that account, and now I'll be able to spend the rest of my life in leisure.
What shall I do with my life for the next hundred years?
Shall I move to the archipelagos in New Italy? I could enjoy beach life for awhile, I'm sure.
Maybe I'll upload to the datasphere again, and spend some time in Virtual Universes as a god.
Of course, I could always push the bounds of human technology - find a field that interests me and download all current knowledge, then work with a Sentient Mind to find new applications. Or I could be truly ambitious and explore unbroken scientific grounds.
My sister converted an asteroid into a supercomputer, and uploaded. Maybe I'll do the same with a derelict planet.
I could try my hand at genetic engineering, terraform a starter planet and build an ecosystem from the ground up. Of course that might take more than 100 years, but it would be worth it.
Who am I kidding? I love the life I'm leading now. Those things can wait. After the party, I'll go home to my wife and we'll have another baby. I'm a lucky man. Most people are only married to the same person for 100 years or so before they part ways peacefully to explore the world of possibility before them. My wife and I have been together since 2003. We could n't have children for our first life. When we rejuvenated for the first time, we both got resequenced so that we could. I took a female body and she took a male body for many reasons, but it allowed us to produce our first daughter when I was 115.
Well, I think I will retire and work on my hobbies, but otherwise I'm going home, and I'm going to kiss my wife.
> That is a much more common sentiment than you might think. As wonderfully complex as life can be these days, it is the Simple Life which draws the largest crowds.
Thanks. Hey, how many of my memories do you have? How much are you me and how much are you the Hive?
> More than you know.
Well. Thank you for helping me sort out my thoughts. Goodbye! *disconnect*
*connection lost, attempt reconnect? *
no
*integrate into memory, or dump? *
keep it
*remerge into Hive? *
no, print body and compuform planet GoZeX-7v5c
*body specifications? *
randomized sex
mind connected to compuformed planet via wormhole
automatic production of utility fog
photosynthetic skin
embedded multifunction printer
high performance
*compuform specifications? *
complete mass conversion
full security complement
end
*processing... *
send message to Hive: `` Have diverged for experimentation. Will report regularly.''
*message sent. Reply received: `` Understood. Do you require regular Hive updates? `` *
reply: `` No''
*message sent. Reply received: `` Good luck! `` *
...
*body complete, mind under construction, capacity for mindstate reached. Await completion or immediate upload? *
upload
The newly printed body opens its eyes. It is androgynous. First it finds isolation on a moon. It sets about constructing a device never before seen by humankind. The device contains a keyboard with odd symbols on the keys, and a screen. It types into the device the following translated message:
`` Threat level of Humanity assessed at minimal. I have avoided detection even from their Hive. Love is highly valued. Psychopathy has been nearly eradicated through genetic augmentation. Remaining psychopaths are known, and have agreed to socially constructive rolls. Recommend swift definitive strike. Amass forces in Z space, and assault simultaneously.''
On the screen, the reply comes, `` Understood.''
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[ WP ] You discover that your daughter a magical girl ... in the most embarrassing way possible
| `` Why ca n't you be a café maiden, like your older brother?''
I found myself screaming at my daughter. She stood before me, bold as brass, right smack in the middle of our family business dressed as a magical girl. The one thing I promised her mother would never happen.
`` The world is in peril,'' she said. Stating the too obvious.
`` The world is always in peril!'' I said, `` When are you going to get it through your head there is always going to be a giant monster, or werewolves, or vampires, or some giant rampaging transgendered jabberwocky roaming the world somewhere, but it is not for you to save us from it.''
`` I was chosen father!'' she said.
She raised a staff above her head and transformed right there, into her battle form, with the whole café watching. Magical girl outfits were always on the unmodest side but this outfit was deliberately pushing it to the extremes. It made it extremely obvious, Maaya was not a little girl anymore. Ever since she had grown much taller than me, her father, she had been getting increasingly rebellious. Looking up at this enchanted Titania reminded me of her mother, which was not helping with my mood.
`` Magical girls always lead to a bad end,'' I pleaded with her.
Then I pointed to my eldest son, Yukio, serving drinks at the far end, trying his best in vain to draw attention away from us.
`` Look at your brother! A handsomer man in a maid outfit you will never find, and proud of it! He'll be graduating from business college just a few years and I will hand over the café to you two and retire. I ca n't handle my children spending their lives fighting evil. Always in danger!''
`` Mother was a magical girl, father!'' screamed Maaya, `` She protected us from danger. You have no idea what you're talking about.''
That was the last straw. I pulled small baton from my maid apron showed this little upstart how one properly transforms into a magical girl. A bright sprinkling pink dress with the cat ears of a warrior I had not worn in over a decade. With panties, garters, and fishnets, not this g-string and tattoo nonsense they tarted around in these days.
Maaya was of course stunned.
`` You... you were Kamaya Catboy? The great defender of the city?''
My baton transformed into a great staff which I thumped upon the floor to emphasize I was putting my foot down. Magical thunder shook the city with my might.
`` Now you know I do know what I'm talking about.''
I gripped my staff with both hands as I fought to find the courage to retell the most painful memory of my life.
`` Your mother and I fought together to send Queen Athaliah, back to the netherworld, that battle cost your mother her life. As she lay dying in my arms I promised I would do everything I could to keep you and your brother safe. The both of you were just babies at the time. I had to raise you alone. I did everything I could to keep you two away from magical questing so you would not pick up your mother's curse. That's what it means to be a magical girl. You will fight until you die or you see you loved ones killed! You're too young to understand what it can cost you.''
`` I understand that if you refuse to defend this city as Kamaya Catboy, someone has to take your place,'' said Maaya.
She pointed her staff at my own and fired a magical beam of lighting, causing me to drop it. Just like her mother, she was much more powerful than I, and far more stubborn. If she wanted to fight evil, I could n't stop her. In the distance there was another rumble. Some great Kaiju or some other damn thing was rising from the sea to have a bit of a snit at the city. Maaya took to the air, like an avenging angel.
`` I'm going, father,'' she said, `` Please do n't banish me from home for disobeying you.''
I could n't stop myself from crying.
`` No. Your mother would never forgive me.''
As Maaya flew off I picked up my staff. Something I swore to never pick up again. As I watched Maaya fly into battle through teary eyes, my son Yukio approached me. It was obvious he knew the whole time his younger sister was a magical girl.
`` I do n't suppose you have some great secret to share with me?'' I asked, stupidly.
Yukio transformed into a black mage. At least the outfit was tasteful, especially compared to his sister.
`` She can use a little help, she's a beginner you know,'' he said.
He had a point. Together we took to the air like a team of superheroes, defending the city. If I could not keep my children from danger, the least I could do was train them at my best to gain victory.
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Subsets and Splits