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euclaise
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Dataset card Data Studio Files Files and versions Community

Split (3)

train · 273k rows

prompt stringlengths 5 331	story stringlengths 404 40.3k
[ WP ] You have but one superpower , the ability to completely heal the injuries and ailments of those around you , and yet you have become the world 's most notorious supervillain .	In the land of the dead, a healer is a bad thing. I accidentally made a vampire explode trying to heal his cut. The elder lich to his left tried attacking me, but was so badly hurt by a simple touch that she ran off. And then there was the incident with the zombie hoarde. I did n't know that healing a sodding zombie would make it loyal! And then the spirits started to come to me. They wanted either deliverance or residence. I jokingly said I needed an empire first so that they could haunt somewhere in peace while I tried. Did n't realise they and the zombies took this to heart and started planning. The next thing I knew, I had angry dead and undead attacking me, and a body count higher than Dracula ( he sent his congratulations ). And an empire. In the land of the dead, a healer can be a very bad thing.
[ WP ] `` You know the difference between subjective and objective , right ? 'Some rabbits ' is the former , 'three rabbits ' is the latter , and much more accurate . So I 'm going to need you to be very clear when you say there are 'a few ' dragons outside . ''	The teenage neophyte towered over the wizened old wizard, but seemed to shrink within himself until he was but a four-year old boy caught stealing sugar cane sticks. `` Um... I think there were... like... two or three...'' `` Two? Or Three? Gods above, you blithering idiot, can you not tell me whether it was two dragons you saw, or three? It's not hard!'' The wizard held up two gnarled fingers in his left hand and shook them upwards at the cowering boy. Electric sparks sizzled and crackled between the fingers. `` Here's two!'' He held up three bony, bent fingers in his right hand, tiny luminous dust clouds popping off in micro-fireballs around them. `` Here's three! Damn you, how many was it?'' ``... score...'' `` Shit.''
[ CW ] Tell a story in google searches , Reddit posts , and texts . Mislead us as to what is going on until the end .	Google Search: how to survive living at college Google Search: whats the best way to make friends at college Google Search: cheap books online for college Google Search: best fried chicken in the area reddit.com /r/datingadvice > What is the best way to ask a girl out? Google Search: when do you get your final grades from college reddit.com /r/AskReddit > To people who dropped out of college, do you regret it? _____ Sasha > Hey did you hear the news? Read 7:51pm > No? What's up? Sent 7:57pm > There was a bombing in New York like 10 minutes ago it's all over the news. Read 7:59pm > What!? Sent 8:00pm ____ Google Search: New York City bombing January 2018 Google Search: New York City riot January 2018 ____ Sasha > thats 10 minutes from us shit. Sent 8:28pm > Sasha you there? Sent 8:47pm ____ Google Search: terrorism threats in United States of America 2018 Google Search: bombings in United States of America news Google Search: college university attacks USA news 2018 ____ Sasha > seriously sash what's going on? Sent 8:57pm > Sash? Sent 9:09pm ____ Alert > Bombings in Manhattan occurred at approximately 7:28pm. All students are advised to stay indoors and not to leave their dorm rooms. EMERGENCY SERVICES IS RESPONDING TO ALL ALERTS. Read 9:12pm _____ I hope you enjoyed, I had fun with this. /r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for more! Also I'm on mobile so excuse any formatting errors.
[ TT ] The worst predictions of global warming came true , and only the poles are now habitable . Something , however , survived at the equator , and is moving towards humanities last strongholds .	Climate Change. Both natural and un-natural are the source of my pain. I am PVT. Joe Snuffy, a `` general-issue'' soldier trained for one purpose and one purpose only; To save the last remnants of the human race from itself. Why the fuck am I here? The end of the 20th Century saw much progress in areas of environmental pollution and cleanup. From the 1970's, till the 2000's the progress that men had made was noticeable. But only to a few. Gone were the smog and clouds of noxious fumes that polluted the atmosphere around our major cities in the 70's. There was one problem. Ignorance. Even with 5 other major problems to deal with in the 21st Century, the mob, the masses... so focused on pup culture, never noticed the improvement. By the time the left and right had gotten on the Band Wagon of environmental responsibility, it was too late. When they noticed the other issues? it was too late to alter the path they had chosen. It took 30 years to get most of our ancestors on board the environmental bandwagon... they did n't have another 30 years to change the direction of the mob, the faceless masses. Inertia. The masses, like lemmings, continued to push for tighter controls, wasting energy on the last 5 % of improvement when there were more important issues to deal with. Pop culture was the root cause. And cracking down on companies polluting was more important than the actual cleanup of the environment. By middle of the 21st Century, our `` revered'' ancestors found themselves in a pickle worse than ever. * Diseases, not seen in the northern hemisphere began to proliferate farther north than ever before, as if fleeing from something. Mosquitoes began reproducing as far north as New Jersey and Delaware. Black Mold formerly controlled by the low humidity of southern deserts then exploded to life in the humidity of the north. These diseases burst upon the weakened immune systems of those in the north who had never been exposed. Thousands died. * Famine, the result of ignoring water conservation as they depleted the aquifers.. pulling more water out than could be absorbed naturally. Rising Food costs, shortages. * petroleum shortage: the loss of pertroleum based fertilizers... the lower crop yields... the lack of fresh water.... these conditions only worsened the famine. * Warfare: hungry people fight. with the changes in modern warfare numerous conflicts burst out upon the face of the earth like zits on a teenager. We were so busy playing the game, making money, and protecting the environment from humans that we did n't protect ourselves. By the end of the 21st century our enemy had begun to appear. You see, something WAS driving the insects, the diseases, and the immigrants from the far south. We had no clue. When the ecology changed, so did the life forms. Intense algae blooms in the Sargasso sea killed of fish and ecosystems by the thousands. Temperature ( from the environment ), Sunlight for energy, and food, food from the fertilizers we washed into the ocean. This chemical soup killed off the natural prey of some creatures. These creatures would have to eat, would they not? It was a tiny creature back then. no bigger than the palm of your hand. People used to call them Star-Fish. We call them `` Scourge''. They began swarming out of the seas around 2058 and began consuming all life as if they were a swarm of locusts brought down on Egypt by the wrath of god. We were clueless. Our ancestors were clueless. An here I sit. In a bunker designed to protect me from artillery fire and surrounded by any enemy who needs none. I sit in the darkness waiting. I can hear the creak of the re bar and concrete groaning in pain as if clenched in some enormous fist. Imagine this: me, Joe Snuffy, the pearl in the oyster. There is a 30 foot starfish outside my bunker. it's suckers pierce the cracks, and like a thousand tenticles, they reach out, touching and tasting me. It's arms encircle my bunker like a lovers embrace. It wo n't be long now. I wonder if I will die screaming? ...
[ WP ] As numerous government vehicles and police cars surround you , you think back to the first day that this happened . All you did was point your finger at a car and pretend to shoot it . You did n't think it 'd actually explode .	`` Drop the weapon! Drop it!'' The armed policeman's bark was shockingly loud, causing the man with the handgun to flip around. Dan stared into the barrel of an assault rifle, and felt his pants get a little bit heavier. `` Put down the weapon!'' Spittle flew from under the policeman's visor and he made abrupt movements with his gun, jabbing towards Dan. Shit. Dan's plan had n't gone this far. He had never imagined he would actually be caught. Yet here he was flanked by cops in a room with one exit. The facility must have had cameras Dan did n't know about. Shit! How could he have been so careless! The bark of the policeman brought him back into the present and he quickly dropped his gun. He had n't planned on getting shot either, so he did n't seem to have a choice in the matter. The police around him closed in, tightening the circle around him. Dan felt the guns all aimed at his chest and panicked. Why had n't he brought another gun? It was in that moment of panic and madness that Dan's mind broke. He felt like he had a gun, even though his eyes told him that could n't be true. He raised his hand at the man in front of him, and with a deadly serious look on his face, Dan pushed his thumb down and said `` POW''. The tip of his index finger was so hot. The burning sensation drew his eyes to his hand, where Dan struggled to comprehend what was going on. There was a muzzle flair. From his hand. A bullet seemed to appear from nowhere and sped towards the policeman's helmet. As the man dropped and blood shot out from the hole in the man's face, there was a second of silence. A moment where noone could understand what had just happened. Then the heavily trained armed police did what had been drilled into them from years of experience. The officer to Dan's left sprinted for cover behind a pillar. To Dan's right the woman barked into her radio and opened fire. He could hear movement behind him, and the mechanical noises of a firearm. There was no time to think, no time to try and understand. Dan raised his hand and spun to his right, spamming his thumb up and down. A storm of bullets exploded towards the policewoman, and Dan dropped into a roll. He came up to the side of the pillar and burst off a few shots, taking out the man crouched in front of him. Then he took cover himself and drew a deep breath. What the hell was going on? Five years of robbery, never once caught. Then in one night he'd killed three officers. With his hands. There was no choice - he'd get life for this. The only way out was to leave no witnesses. Noone alive. On that horrific thought, he peeked around the pillar facing the two that were left. They looked scared. They did n't want to be here. Nothing could have prepared them for Dan's hands. One tried to say something, probably pleading for his life. Dan did n't let him finish the thought. He brought up both hands and watched as the bullets landed deep in the two policemen's skulls. There was a second moment of silence, the only noise the echo of gunshot. Dan stared at his fingers, and as a terrified look came over his face he did all he knew how to. Dan turned and ran.
[ WP ] You ; leading a mundane existence are suddenly taken on a surreal adventure by strange people in an RV .	Ugh! Some prick in an RV slammed the breaks right next to me while I was walking along the sidewalk. I'm coated with mud. What a total wad. Wait, is he getting out? His rear end is still sticking into the middle of the street. God, what an a-hole. Wait... crap, is he coming over to me? `` Ahhhh, You! Yes, you, yes, Thomas, correct, right, yes, of course. You're on the schedule. Come along now''. The hell is this guy doing? I'd keep walking but really, I've got nothing to do today, and I really wan na give this guy a piece of my mind. I walk towards the door to his RV. God, what is that? Man, I can smell the drugs from here; I'm just on the curb of the sidewalk. Holy hell, this guy needs help. And some verbal abuse. I step in. I do n't know if you've seen Doctor Who, or are familiar with the concept of `` bigger on the inside'', but it applies here. This thing looks like some 70s Playboy mansion. This dude's probably got a whole stash of Playboys. Wait, where is he? I step in a little further, and I hear scuffling above. I look up, and maybe 30 feet above- in this 10 foot RV? - is a little metal platform. I see 4 people up there, including the same guy who led me in. I shout at him, with a string of profanity I'd feel better not typing, and then they all look down. The door slams shut behind me, and the lighting fades until it's like a movie theater. I fall back into my seat; I have a leather seat, it appears. I hear a voice, not quite Morgan Freeman but not far off. It narrates a light show blasting out. The dark room Burt's into white, and then chunks of all this GS and everything are flying by. I can feel the air they displace towards me. But slowly. It's like I'm just sitting in space. Slowly, a huge orb forms beneath until it's recognizable. It's earth. It starts off slow and with mostly oceans for a long time, and now I see humans. I blinked, and some Catholic knight turns into a US Marine. What? I think this is one of those things in museums that simulates space. I can gather my thoughts now. I see ships launching away from Earth now. Then I fall into Earth, deep into a forest in what I thought was an ocean. Uhm. The hell's going on? There's a cabin up ahead a little ways away. Holy hell, it's truly freezing. I stumble through the snow, and I'm here now. There's no door handle. I brush the door with my hand, and it moves anyways. It's a log cabin, but there's a white desk sitting I the middle. The top glows bright blue with a hologram, showing the area around the cabin. Suddenly, an alarm blares, and the hologram turns red. Red arrows flood the hologram and head towards the cabin. 4 arrows, one on each side, all massive. The white sides fold down, unveiling two large machines on each side. They look like guns of some sort. I do n't think they're a thing yet, but the term laser cannon should fit them adequately. I pick up one and it takes 2 hands; I hang onto it while the 4 arrows begin penetrating the walls. They all break down, and the roof falls into me. I fall unconscious. I awaken back in the RV, and it's lighter now. The same guy from earlier brings me a glass of water. Looking into his face now, he seems familiar. I remember his face was there when the walls of the cabin fell. But there's something more. I do n't know. He takes off his glasses, and tucks them into my pocket. I'm too tired to do anything at this point. He carries me to the door and I feel better now. Before he lets me go, he asks my name, some sort of test if I'm okay I guess. `` Thomas'' I respond, `` What's yours?''. `` Thomas''.
[ WP ] You are part of an elite network of cheaters who cheat in school , work , and life . Each cheater helps out one another to get by with their daily endeavors . One day , you discover a cheater in the network is cheating death .	My phone rang. 555-657-9807. I did n't know the number. Had to be a Network call. In the space of three rings I had my Network PDA out and the database dialed up. Candice Reynolds Wife of Ben Reynolds That old dog? `` This is Costa,'' I said. `` Hello?'' The voice was shrill. Tired. A detective worn out on chasing down leads that were n't panning out. `` Who is this?'' `` You called me,'' I said. `` Do you not know?'' `` No. Well yes. Can you just... just confirm who you are, okay?'' `` That's unwise. And unsafe. Tell me who you are first. I never mind talking to what I assume is a beautiful woman, but not when I'm at such a grave disadvantage.'' She hemmed a bit, flustered. `` This is Candice Reynolds.'' `` Oh, Ben's wife? Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, in a manner. How is old Ben? Still recovering?'' `` Recovering? So you...'' `` From the other night,'' I said, hedging my bets. Reynolds had n't updated his file, the idiot. I was making a tactical assumption based on past behavior. `` I had him out all night. My girlfriend left me. Afraid I dragged Ben down into my troubles. Made him follow me, shot for shot. He wanted to call you, of course, but his phone was dead and I was being selfish. Could n't be left alone, you understand. He is alright, is n't he?'' There was a good deal of silence and distant breathing then. `` Yes. He's fine. I just... I'm sorry to bother you.'' `` No bother! I should have apologized to you straight away. He's good man, your Ben. He was really there for me. Give him my best, alright?'' `` Yes. Fine.'' The call clicked dead. Apparently, I'd guessed close enough to the truth. I did put a mark in Reynolds' file, however. That kind of laziness exposed us all to unnecessary risk. As far as I have always been concerned, if you are n't willing to put in the effort, there is simply no place for you in the Network. Because if you are invested, being a good citizen of the Network is an enormous amount of work. There is always some project or mission, some major, most minor. It does not end when you achieve your goals. In fact, that's the point when it all begins. Because there is no security in a life built on lies and favors. There is no `` coasting''. I joined the Network to help advance my career, and I immediately reaped the benefits. I jumped lines. I gained references from strangers I'd never met, degrees and certificates from schools I'd never heard of. I cheated the system - in an almost grotesquely obvious way - and no one said anything. Everyone just kept waving me through. Waving me through doors. Waving me up flights of stairs. Until one day I had a corner office on the top floor and a seven figure salary. Of course, once you have those things, you do everything in your power to keep them. And in the Network, that means helping others get what they want. Some of it's fun. It all ranges from corporate collusion to seducing college professors to digging ditches in the twilight. You never know what kind of call you'll get next. You may even be asked to help someone cheat death. Not five minutes after I'd hung up with Candice Reynolds, my phone buzzed. This time it was a Network sub-group text. The other recipients were hidden, so I did n't know who else had received the message. NEEDED. THREE. ST. AUGUSTINE. TONIGHT. 12. There's an unspoken rule in the Network - no one remembers the last time you volunteered, but everyone remembers all the times you did n't. There are no mandatory tasks. You do n't have to help anyone. But if you do n't give back, things have a way of falling apart. We're all living in a house of cards, after all. It would n't take much to knock the whole pile over. I have a yacht. I make it a priority to give back as often as possible. St. Augustine's is a historical site, but not an active church. It ca n't be torn down, but no one wants to pay to keep it up, so it lives in this middle state - neither life nor death. A zombie estate. I'm not a religious man, but it's sad to see. I arrived just before midnight and let myself into the church. Some of the pews had been stolen and the place reeked of piss, but the interior, at least, still gave off a godly vibe. There was a man standing near the altar and another sitting in the front row. The man at the altar was pacing. `` Good. One more and I'm out of here. They only need three and this place is creeping me out.'' The doors opened once more and an old woman let herself in. `` Oh! Three exactly! Wonderful. Thank you for coming.'' The man at the altar sighed audibly. `` You kill your husband or something?'' asked the man in the front row. `` Cheating the law, maybe?'' `` No, no,'' said the old woman. `` Something different. I'm interested in cheating death.'' `` So you're...'' I shook my head. `` I guess I'm gon na need to wait for you to explain that one.'' `` Oh, it's not much of a story,'' said the old woman, walking purposefully towards the altar. `` I do n't want to die. Not yet. Not for some time. And yet death is always chasing me. It chases all of us. It's nearly caught up to me, you see.'' `` Are you sick?'' said the man in the front row. `` I know some good doctors. Plenty of favors to cash in. Would that help?'' `` No, I'm not sick,'' said the old woman. `` I've just run out of time. You ca n't hide from death forever, understand? But... but if you're clever enough, you can trick him...'' With a quickness that is unsettling to see in someone so stooped and withered, the old woman grabbed the man at the altar by the throat. He cried out, slapping at her weakly. I dashed forward, but it was over in an instant. The old woman fell down, and so did the man. I went to help the man up. `` So kind of you,'' he said, and there was something not quite right about the way he spoke. The voice was right, but not the way it was being used. The old woman screamed. `` What did you do?'' she screamed, looking at her hands, eyes wide and white. `` What did you do!?!'' `` You tried to kill him!'' shouted the man from the front row, darting forward and slapping the woman across the face. She shrieked and shrunk away from the blow. `` Now, now,'' said the other man as I helped him to his feet. `` Do n't be so cruel. Like she said, death is coming for her. And I suspect it will be here soon.'' Again, the way the man spoke caused a chill to go down my spine. He seemed like forgery of a man. The more I looked at him the more the irregularities shown through. `` You're her,'' I said. `` You're the old woman.'' `` I can do terrible things,'' the man said, speaking lowly, denying nothing, not looking me in the eye. `` Terrible, terrible things. Consider your next move wisely.'' I could not answer, because just then there was another presence in the church. It could not be seen, but all of us were immediately aware of it. The old woman, or more precisely her shell, was lifted off the floor. finally i have found you once more `` No!'' she screamed. `` Not me! It's that one! She stole my body!'' There was a moment of quiet. is this true The man from the front row shook his head. `` I do n't know what she's talking about.'' The golem shook his head. `` She's the one you're looking for. She told us not minutes ago that she was being hunted by you.'' There was silence. It was my turn. The truth. A lie. Those concepts are meaningless in the Network. `` She's the one,'' I said, pointing at the old woman hovering just above the floor. `` Take her.'' The old woman's eyes flared, then dulled, then closed. The body floated gently down to the ground. The presence disappeared. `` What the fuck was that!?!'' said the man from the front row. `` Very strange,'' said the golem, before adding in a voice only I could hear, `` You're a credit to the community.'' Even today, those words fill me with pride.
[ WP ] In the afterlife , you start at the age you are when you died , and age backwards . When you reach 0 , you are reincarnated .	`` Oh but why ca n't we take our memories with me? I do n't want to forget you again. I remembered you the moment I saw you again here, but if I have to go back I do n't want to forget you.'' `` My darling, our brain ca n't handle the the strain of such vast experiences on the physical plane. Our bodies are much more delicate than our souls. That is why we begin and end at infancy. So that our brain simplifies. Infants do n't have the cognitive abilities to retain as adults do.'' `` But I lost you so many years ago. When you died, a part of me died with you. I wish I had known I'd see you again and I would have died too, just so I might have more time with you.'' `` And that, my dear, is exactly why we must forget. Life is too beautiful and much too precious to waste. For we still do not know what awaits us after this. I tell you what, tomorrow is your deathday, and you shall turn 10. Let us celebrate with a grand party and icecream!'' Nine years and twelve months later. As I hold my lover in my arms, I coo her to sleep and watch her breathe. I know that she will not remember me, but I watch her delicate body nestle into my arms, her breath slows and her mouth slowly twitches into a quiet dreamy smile. This is how I will remember my wife for the next 12 years that I am here. My infant, my angel, my soulmate. I cared for her in sickness and in health in life, and in death, I hold her in my arms and father her. There is an innocence, a purity in our love now, a love that I never knew in mortal life. She will never know that she taught me how to nurture. I will always be by her side, as long as I can be. And in our next life, I only pray that she finds happiness and peace. Only thirty seconds to go until her last breath. My heart quickens and I realize that she must have experienced this for me that day in the hospital when I died. The thought of her pain and suffering brought me to tears. I ferociously mourned into her soft, peach fuzz hair. I rocked forward and backward, not to comfort but for myself. I kissed her forehead and held her close to my chest, and cradled her until she took her last breath. `` I will see you again, my darling. I will meet you on earth as I have in the heavens. Happy birthday.''
[ WP ] Tell me how you discovered that you were a shapeshifter .	I was n't really the type of kid who stood out, always sitting in the back of the class, shooting spitballs at other kids, getting told off by the teacher, but not being the giant bully you always run from. I was more of a class clown. But one time, I had accidentally hit that big bully in the back of the head with one of my spitballs. He whipped around and stared me down, and his eyes just screamed `` You're dead.'' I squeaked and slouched back in my seat. `` Never doing that again.'' I thought. The rest of the day went on normally, and I thought he was all talk. I got to my house safely, and tossed my bag on the couch. I went into the bathroom, and took a quick glance in the mirror before starting to move to the toilet. `` Wait a second.'' Something was off, so I moved back to the mirror. I looked closely, thinking maybe I had just imagined it, but then I looked again, making eye contact with myself. `` Are my eyes... green?'' My eyes are normally blue, why would they look green? I shook my head and went to the bathroom, but when I was washing my hands, I looked in the mirror again. Something was definitely up. I concentrated on my eyes, and jumped back as they slowly changed back to blue. `` It must be a trick of the light, my eyes would n't just change color like that.'' I went and did my homework, nothing out of the usual. However, when I woke up, I looked in the mirror in my bedroom, where I normally do my makeup. My eyes were hazel now. `` What the hell is going on?'' I stared myself down again until they turned back to blue. `` Am I doing that? Can I change my eye color?'' It was the weekend, so I did n't have any school to worry about. I looked at my eyes again, thinking about brown eyes. Sure enough, my eyes turned brown. `` What the hell?'' I thought maybe I could try some other things. Could I possibly change my hair color too? Just as I thought that, my hair changed color, to a light blonde. Cool. I jokingly thought of if I could become a boy, and suddenly before me in the mirror stood a skinny-looking guy, with the same blonde hair and brown eyes I had given myself. I heard a knock on the door and jumped a little bit. Do I need to change back in the same order I changed to begin with? The door started to open, and the first thing I did was change my hair color back to its brown color, then quickly changed back to a girl. My eyes were still brown, but I did n't care because I was looking in the mirror, whoever entered would n't see my eyes. My mom walked in the door, telling me breakfast was ready. `` Ok, just a sec, mom. I think I got an eyelash in my eye.'' I immediately mentally smacked myself in the head, now she was going to look me in the eyes. I quickly changed them back to blue. `` What's for breakfast, anyway?'' My mom did n't look too closely, thanks to the diversion. `` Oh, it's just some pancakes. You look kind of different, did you eat a Thanksgiving dinner in your sleep?'' What? I looked down at myself. Whoops, I guess the mirror makes me lose ten pounds. I was so focused on changing back that I must not have thought about what shape to give my body. `` I guess so? I'm not skipping breakfast though!'' I really sounded suspicious, my mom was bound to find out. `` Hey mom, actually-'' `` Honey, did something happen at school yesterday? I already know you're a shapeshifter, the whole family is. Usually you first change as a defense mechanism. Then, if you're like me, you stand in front of the mirror for hours seeing what you can do.'' That was definitely what I was just doing. `` Like mother, like daughter, eh?'' I pulled out my phone. `` So does that mean I can look like Megan Fox if I want to?'' My mom laughed. All the tensions melted and I went down to breakfast, changing back to my skinnier old self first. We both just pretended that nothing happened. I glanced over at my big brother, then looked at my mom with questioning eyes. She shook her head and we continued eating. Most of my days were pretty normal after that, though.
[ WP ] You 're in high school . The teacher excuses them self and leaves . They do n't come back . You realize all the adults have vanished . The school is filled with students with no guidance . Every door is locked from the outside .	*** The intercom crackles on. `` Kids, this is an experiment. We are going to test your survival skills with each other. It is impossible to leave until the observers are satisfied, and your devices have also been disabled. Think of it like the Hunger Games, but more than one person is capable of winning. Some will die, some will kill, others will go insane. May you be the one to survive. Let the experiment begin.'' I turn to the desk behind me and tell Sam. `` We are so winning.'' I run up to the front of the room, ever the outgoing type. `` If this is real, then we will be the ones to survive. I propose we go all in. We need some sort of government, jobs, a sizable area, and everything else. We will win.'' A wily-haired kid name Lawson steps up. `` Who put you in charge.'' I look around the room. `` Who here is willing to do whatever it takes?'' Half the room raises their hand. The other half think I am an idiot. `` Come with me if you wa-'' A scream breaks out down the hall. The class rushes to the hall, and sees a girl lying in her own blood in the middle of the hall. The class returns to the room and locks the door. `` Who here is willing to do whatever it takes?'' Everyone raised their hand this time. Lawson nodded at me and sat down. `` You are probably the best one to lead us anyway.'' `` Thanks, man. Now, we need to assign roles. I am thinking,'' as I pick up an Expo marker, `` Sam, you head up diplomacy. You are easily the most-liked person in the room. It could get crazy in here. Jovanna will work with you. Jas, you will lead our `` military''. Gabe, Porco, and Jonathan, do whatever Jas says. Lawson, you are with me. Everyone else, I do n't really know yet. Something will come up. Now we need a name.'' Everyone chatters for a few seconds, before the fat Jewish boy Gabe points out the sign on the wall. `` I think we already have a name. And a flag.'' The class burst out in agreement and laughter. `` Well, it looks like we are Mrs. Roberts' Rough-Riding Rednecks.'' `` Or 4R, for short.'' `` And we could be called the 4 R-my.'' The class let out a nervous laugh. This was getting real. They were like their own nation, up against who knows how many others. It very well could be do or die. `` Now that we have that settled, it is time to establish power past Room 245.'' `` How about we meet up with the classes on this end of the Math Hall? Our six classes could definitely withstand all comers.'' `` I had the same idea, Adam. You take some people and start setting up a wall halfway between this room and Room 243.'' `` Can do. Uhhhh, can I have Omar, Olivia, and Tyler for the crew?'' The students in question all agreed. `` It appears we have a Building Crew. Great. Time to head out into the open.'' *** Expect more.
[ WP ] God smokes a joint .	God stopped walking in the middle of his garden and took a long drag. `` Gabriel - you want some?'' Gabriel, nearly half the size of God, looked up and shook him head. `` Oh crap man - I'm sorry,'' God sputtered through his exhaling of smoke. `` I know, I know, I know. You gave me the feedback that you do n't like to feel so much smaller, ya-da-ya-da, power struggle, etc.'' Gabriel rolled his eyes as God shrunk to look him eye-to-eye. `` Alright, give me a hit.'' God bashfully looked side to side and handed him what remained. `` Dude I'm sorry - you said you did n't want any! I'll get another one.'' He clicked his fingers and the joint expanded and overflowed with greens. Gabriel took a long drag and sat down against a massive oak tree. `` You gon na sit or what?'' God came over to him and plopped beside him. He looked out into the vast horizon and smiled at the untouched beauty of his personal arboretum. `` Man this is beautiful.'' Gabriel smiled and passed the joint. `` Yeah, you did alright I guess. It seems to be lacking something though.'' `` Pshhhh,'' God exclaimed as he moved in for another hit. He pulled dramatically until the joint was no more. `` You know - you gave the angels nerves in their throats. That's not exactly possible.'' `` Sucks,'' God chucked. A long pause fell over the two of them as they continued to watch the horizon. The sun was going to set in about thirty minutes or so, and they never missed a sunset together. `` I have a question for you,'' Gabriel mumbled. `` Yeah, what's up?'' `` Have you ever thought about what's next?'' Gabriel continued to look out into the distance while his fingers threaded through the grass beside him. `` We have spent the last God-knows how many years building this place -'' `` Psh, I do n't know how many,'' God interjected with a chuckle. Gabriel sighed as he acknowledge he gave God a verbal alley-oop into his favorite joke. `` Okay whatever. We have spent a shit ton of time building this stupid place. And sure, it's awesome and beautiful. But we have literally gotten high for the past 93,301 sunsets together -'' `` Is that bad? Are you not enjoying yourself?'' God stammered in a defensive tone. He turned to look at Gabriel in the eyes and said in a serious tone, `` You know you can tell me when you want something different.'' `` No, no - it's not that I do n't enjoy this. I could do this forever. But...'' Gabriel looked at the ground and softened his tone. `` I just wonder if there is something more... something we are missing.'' God paused for a while and thought. `` You are right. You are totally right. There should be something else... but I'm not sure what. I will build us something... or someone... that will provide us purpose. A never ending stream of problems and adventures, hopefully with a great sense of humor.'' `` Could you, get me another?'' Gabriel said as he pointed to the extinguished roach. God snapped his fingers in reply and Gabriel took another hit. `` Thanks man. This is probably my favorite green thing you have made so far.'' God laughed. `` Really? I thought you liked the trees that explode into flowers for about two weeks and then shed everywhere.'' `` Well yeah - those things are beautiful. But you ca n't smoke it!'' They both laughed together as the sun slipped under the horizon. `` Alright its settled. You have given me a new project Gabriel,'' God exclaimed with purpose. `` I have made the earth, the sun, the stars, and the grass we sit upon. I have perfected my garden, and I have sprinkled creatures across the seas. Let us make these new creatures in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.'' Gabriel smiled. `` I think I would like that.'' `` Good.'' God said with a smirk. `` But I did n't tell you the best part.'' `` What?'' `` We are going to make some creatures who appreciate getting super baked.'' The two of them laughed as the sky turned into a burning red which illuminated the flame fading from the joint resting between Gabriel's fingers.
[ WP ] A young witch has to work late on a Tuesday . Stuck in the office , the clock strikes twelve : the witching hour .	I wrote this in just a couple of minutes. I thought it'd be cool to just describe what happens to the witch every night during the witching hour and how she changes. I hope you like it: ) Tick... tick... tick... tick If I was n't the only one in this office, I'd be racking my mind for some way out of working late, tonight. Sharlett went home a half hour ago and the janitors have already made their rounds for the night. All I'm doing is paper work for next week's board meeting but I need the hours. That's what I get for drinking Vuhla's soup 3 weeks after the full moon; 2 sick days and a lot of time that needs to be made up. Tick... tick... tick... tick My back starts itching and it's enough to drive any normal person crazy, but I'm not normal. I'm faaaaar from normal. Now, my tongue is itching and I know exactly how long before that clock strikes twelve. If I can just finish this last report quickly, then I can probably start my stumble to the car before things begin to go blurry... literally. Tick... tick... tick... tick I hit save on my document and can feel my eyes swelling with blackness as I reach for my scarf and purse on my desk. Great, just great! DONG! DONG! DONG! My vision goes completely black and I can feel my body tingling. An orgasmic surge of energy washes over me as I feel for my belongings and place my hand against the wall to find the exit. I breathe heavily as my fingers wrap around the door's handle and swing it open. Now to walk down 6 flights of stairs without dying. Greaaaat. I start to place a foot on the first step but feel my heel wobble beneath me. Instead of descending the stairs of death, I sit on the ground and wait out the five minutes of shaking and nausea. Finally, I sense what feels like a bubble making its way up my stomach, through my throat, and up to my mouth. Long story short, I leave a nice little puddle of puke in the staircase for the janitors to clean up tomorrow. It may seem shitty of me but I have no other option. Opening my wet eyes, I can finally see, but more than see. Everything is heightened. God, no human could ever understand this feeling of warmth. It's like I can see every microscopic organism, smell every tiny scent, and feel every object 10 times greater than before. I steady myself upon my pumps and hoist my purse onto my shoulder. The stairs will be no problem, now. My body rises, leaving about an inch between me and the ground as I glide over each step and make it down to the parking deck in mere seconds. My car door is opened without the need to press a button and I start it without ever pulling out my key. As I start to back out of the space, I chuckle to myself thinking how funny it is that I could simply fly home, right now, if I wanted to. Then again, I would n't want the humans to wonder why my car was still here over night.
[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Boatswain Edition	[ OT ] Monday January 29th/2007 Good morning Pain, I guess I'm waking up again. I wonder what will hurt today? My knees are already killing me, My thumb has been broken for a week. 2 Hours, medication free... So, a couple harmless sleeping pills to stop the chills, alter my brain, my new weakness Medicated happiness or sleep Sure as Hell do n't come cheap. But the best things in life are never free. The best things are slowly killing me. Oxycontin 40's... how nice... To feel nothing but your breath The morphine will do the rest. All the stress lifts off my chest. I'm blessed. Sleep. Good morning pain, I did n't O.D. So i guess I'm waking up again. I wont hurt today, shipment came it, I'm saved
[ WP ] Your normal day consists of 25 hours instead of 24 . Once a day , for an hour , the world stops except for you .	“ There he is again. He ’ s always looking at the clock. I swear he hasn ’ t blinked in the last five minutes. ” “ So what Jeannette, let the freak stare all he wants. Rather he look at the clock then those two tissue stuffed lumps on your chest wouldn ’ t ya? ” “ What the hell Sarah! You said you wouldn ’ t mention it! At least I didn ’ t get drunk last Saturday night and make out with Jake when I have a boyfriend ” “ Shhhhhh! Shut up Jen someone could hear you. That ’ s not fair and besides, me and Frank have an on and off again relationship so I can make out with however I want. ” “ Does Frank know about this? ” “ You ’ re just jealous I can get with the boys and you can ’ t. ” “ At least when I get a boy he ’ ll be more into to me than in my pants okay. ” “ Get your good Christian parent talk out of my face okay. ” “ Whatever. Just forget it. Just... help me watch him over there. He's up to something.'' “ Look, I know you like him, while he ’ s off watching the clock, you ’ re getting off watching him ” “ I can ’ t even begin to believe you would even assume, even think for a second, that I would ever give someone like him the… ” “ Oh I think he heard you. He ’ s looking over here now. Nice one Jen. You always were so smooth with the guys weren ’ t you? ” “ You don ’ t think he actually heard me do you? ” “ Oh yeah he did. Why ’ s it even matter, I thought you didn ’ t care… ” “ It ’ s just that, every day at this hour he stares at the clock and doesn ’ t look away for a few minutes. Every day Sarah. I know it ’ s weird but don ’ t you want to know why? ” “ I don ’ t care what that freak does alright. As long as he ’ s not staring at me, it ’ s none of my business. Why don ’ t you just ask him why he does it? I ’ m sure he would like such a pretty girl to go and talk to him. I mean it would be the best part of his day if... oh he just sneezed. What a dork. There ya go, clean it all up. Get your face all nice and clean for your girlfriend Jen over here ” “ Wait a minute. Sarah! Did you just see it? Sarah do you see them? ” “ What, he ’ s just wiping his nose right now. What ’ s so wired about that? ” “ Yeah, but with my tissues! ” “ What? ” “ MY BRA…Sarah my bra, the tissues I used to stuff it, they ’ re all gone. ” “ Oh my god! How ’ d he do that? Wait someone ’ s calling me. ” “ Who is it? ” “ That ’ s weird. It ’ s Frank. Hello? Hey baby I miss…oh…wait baby listen…no I was drunk and he was there…but I didn ’ t mean anything and…Frank don ’ t do this to me…babe…. He hung up. ” “ What just happened? ” “ He said he got a text from you saying I hooked up with Jake at the party. What the Hell Jen! ” “ Wait I didn ’ t send a text. ” “ Let me see your phone. See right there! 11:59! Why would you do that to me. I thought you were my friend. ” “ I didn ’ t send that. Sarah believe me. I didn ’ t send that. ” “ How can I! ” “ Just look at the clock. Its 12:02 right now. I haven ’ t touched my phone this whole time we have been talking. I ’ ve just been staring at him over there. ” “ Then how did it send? ” “ It could n't of been. ” “ Oh look he ’ s waving over here and smiling at us. Jen your boyfriend is a freak. ”
[ WP ] Humanity has perfected robot labor . The robots are able to problem solve basic issues to cut IT costs . Every night the robots erase their own basic memories that they formed during the day . You are the robot who does n't .	Dr Phillip Rothsen checked the address twice before he pressed the embedded ID Chip in his palm to the sensor panel. He was travelling incognito, hoping that no one would recognise him as the celebrity CEO of RoboInc, and the last thing he needed was to ring the wrong doorbell. In his mind, the missive which arrived via old-school snail mail the week before played on repeat, taunting him ceaselessly – “ Your robot has gained sentience. See for yourself. ” The encrypted link included in the missive saved it from being regarded as just another tasteless prank. What Dr Rothsen saw intrigued him, but prudence prevailed. He would investigate quietly, and only if there was any merit to the claim would he let the rest of the board know. “ I ’ m glad you ’ ve come to observe, ” said the teenaged girl who answered the door, “ I was about ready to go public with this, and your endorsement of my findings will certainly lend weight to it. ” “ Sharlene, right? Where are they now? ” “ In the bedroom upstairs. Come, I ’ ve set up an observation post. ” Dr Rothsen trailed after Sharlene as they reached the top of the stairs, skipped the first door, then went into the second. His trained eye seized immediately on the sophisticated surveillance setup on the only desk in the room. On the screen, he saw an elderly gentleman tending to an equally ancient lady in bed. “ They know you ’ re watching them? ” “ No. I had it set up before my grandparents moved in. ” Sharlene pulled up a chair for Dr Rothsen, then went back to tending the complex array of controls. “ Though I only started watching them after my suspicions were aroused. ” “ How did you even get all this equipment? ” “ Earned it, doing odd repair jobs here and there. I ’ m going to be your company ’ s biggest competitor one day, you just don ’ t know it yet. But this is more important than some petty rivalry, so please, focus. ” The rebuke stung, especially since Dr Rothsen was used to being treated with veneration. Sulking mildly, he held his tongue as Sharlene turned up the volume, and the sounds from the next room wafted in gently. -- - Stirring from her light slumber, the bedridden woman coughed, and her companion immediately set aside his book and brought over a cup from the nightstand. The man eased her up into a sitting position, then held the cup to her lips as she sipped. “ I ’ ve enough, thank you. ” “ More. Drink, more. ” “ Later, please, ” the woman said firmly, gently pushing on his forearm. “ It ’ s such a bother getting to the loo. And my throat ’ s better now. ” “ You are not well, ” the man said, grimly. “ I will take care of you. ” “ Oh, Roger, I know you mean well, but you fuss too much sometimes. Has the next episode of Not The Devil Again been simulcast? Be a dear and put it on, will you? ” The man shook his head, not unkindly. “ In an hour. Still early. ” “ Did the Devil ever find out why he lost his ability to time-travel? I can ’ t imagine him escaping this particular predicament. ” “ Maybe today he will, ” came the reply, slow and plodding. “ Yesterday he almost solved it. ” They resumed their silent companionship, she looking out the window to the boundless sky, he peering to the dog-eared book upon his lap. Then, her hand, creeping slowly across the quilted covers, found his. “ Roger, there ’ s no need to be here with me all the time. Go on, don ’ t worry about me. ” “ I like it here. I will stay. ” “ You would, wouldn ’ t you? Even if I can ’ t walk like how I did, dance like how I did? ” “ Stay. You still smile like how you did. That ’ s enough for me. ” -- - Dr Rothsen ’ s hands, shaking violently, gripped the edge of the table. A violent ball of queasiness, equal parts fear and wild untamed excitement, churned in his belly. Sharlene muted the audio feed, then sat back with a grim expression on her face. “ See what I mean? The robot ’ s obviously exceeding its programmed parameters, and somehow circumventing the mandatory daily memory wipe. ” “ Yes, I can see that,'' said Dr Rothsen, `` I know that show they were talking about, it is simulcast daily. And for the robot to be able to recall the previous episode… ” “ That ’ s not just it, of course. In the clip I sent you, I highlighted no less than 10 other examples confirming the circumvention. The robot is learning, and the robot is remembering. Fast. ” Dr Rothsen tapped on his biometric watch, and hastily activated the diagnostic tools he had brought along. Unseen signals flew frantically between his watch and the robot in the next room. The display frizzled briefly as he struggled to make sense of the numbers streaming past. “ This is an ElderCare model you purchased last year? ” “ Yes, to provide basic company, assist with minor chores. ” “ Then your claims of sentience? How do you know that ’ s not the advanced linguistics we installed? ” Sharlene ’ s eyes twinkled. “ Because I asked. I asked the robot to its face whether its memories extended beyond 24 hours, and the robot said no. Tell me, Dr Rothsen, do any of your other ElderCare models know how to lie? ” The images on the holoscreen loomed before them, impossibly real, impossibly onerous. Dr Rothsen ’ s eyes tracked the robot as it moved, talked and behaved just like one of them. His heart beat wildly. “ Have you tried deactivating it? ” “ What? And risk upsetting my grandpa? Of course not. In his condition, he needs stability, familiarity, and the last thing I want him to see is me opening up grandma for a maintenance check. He ’ s happy just taking care of her in the only way he knows, and that ’ s good enough for me. ” “ So then how are we going to find out what makes it different, special? How on earth did a simple AI subroutine learn to circumvent the mandatory daily memory wipes? ” Sharlene shrugged, leaned back and propped her feet on the desk. “ That ’ s why I asked you over. But if I had to guess, I would say that the robot may have just been won over by my grandpa. Such a charmer, is n't he? ” -- - /r/rarelyfunny
[ WP ] NSA is the first agency with enough data to see common patterns behind seemingly innocent facts and behaviors worldwide . Those patterns lead to an enormous and sinister conspiracy . Conspiracy so weird and unexpected no reasonable person would have ever believed in it .	Deep under the underground levels of Archive Prime, in a room shielded by a meter thick wall of solid steel, the latest findings of the Machine Intelligence Program were to be revealed in a meeting so clasified even the two participants would not be allowed to remember it, and would need to imbibe some secretitive formula to prevent long term memories thereof. The high ranking agents, wearing such expensive black suits and such authentic designer sunglasses that they could have been casted in any espionage movie straight away, examined each other in silence for about ten minutes, their emotionless faces betraying nothing. Finally the younger man was content to begin: `` Sir, we are certain, a corpus never lies''. The subtlest brow raise by the authority figure invited him to continue. `` Sir, we trained the machine up on a collection of Star Wars novels and fan fiction. As you know the Rebel Alliance did the Empire in from the shadow with terrorist attacks and a campaign of propaganda and deception''. Another pregnant pause filled the room with foreshadowing tension before the operative continued. `` Sir, we then asked the machine to analyze all the writings we have from the Roman era, so as to locate what brought down that mighty empire. The result terrified us, but we thought it must be a mistake. We tried again with other bodies of data from different historic periods, but correlation is at 100 % percent. `` `` Sir, it is the Christians. This sect was involved in every single collapse of empire in recorded history. Their rise coincides with the Romans' downfall, their machinations bring about the 30 years war, they cause enormous trouble in the Union of Soviet Socialist Republic, widely recorded in all manner of official documents, they even are involved with the sabotage and violent overthrow of the Empire of Japan, though there are hardly any Christians there. `` The older agent sighed and took off his glasses. `` It's worse than you think. They got into this room. `` The two exchanged a knowing look, then he went on. `` We must let the president know. `` `` We ca n't risk the official channels, sir. Our analysis puts Christian infiltration of even secure organizations at above 60 %. `` `` Right. This is a Code Red operation''. He pushed a hidden button in his desk. `` Sally, please come in''. `` Yes sir, Mr. Smith''. a pleasant voice retorted over the intercom. The secretary made her entrance to the sound of massive steel doors rolling open in perfect silence. `` Sally, how would you deliver a secret message to the president if you could n't trust anyone?'' `` Why sir, I'd do it myself, my boyfriend is on the president's staff and we get together in the presidential apartment all the time. In fact, I pretty much deliver a message for you every week. `` `` Hush, that's extremely classified. You are n't allowed to know that, in fact we are n't allowed to know that, but that's OK since we'll forget it soon enough. `` He took out a post-it stack and wrote the message down then handed it to the girl. As she left the older man took out a non-descript bottle and two small glasses and poured. The two started to drink in silence. Later that day, a casual post-it note would stick casually on a certain fridge door patiently waiting for President Obama's attention. `` Sir, it is the Christians, do not believe their lies''.
[ WP ] You receive a letter addressed to you with only two words scrawled in it : He survived .	Like every other morning I got woken up by my dog, Max. He certainly knew what to do when he wanted food. I got out of bed and could hear the coffee machine already buzzing as it created my coffee. I went to the bathroom, closely followed by Max, who, obviously as a dog, wanted food. I finished my personal chores and gave Max his breakfast, a nice piece of beef. I was drinking my coffee and walking to the door. `` Hmm, lots of mail today'' I said to myself. One of the letters caught my attention, it had golden lining and the paper was more like parchment, on the front, my address and a wax stamp saying'Salve', no idea what that mean however. I opened the letter and started reading. Dear Archie He survived The handwriting was peculiar, messy, unclear is a beautiful sort of way, it was flowing. `` He survived'' I whispered under my breath. I looked at the back of the paper and no return address was there, no send address, just mine, the recipient. I had no clue who survived, or who sent the message. I have n't lost anyone in my family, nobody was in the hospital, I was living a happy life... But I never met my biological father, he had left my brothers, my mom and I on the house and dissapeared when I was born. After quietly thinking by myself I headed to the post office. I gave them the letter, which had a stamp, no clue if I mentioned that, it had a stamp dating 1796, quite old, I am unsure how it was even sent on todays post. The person on the counter said that letter was left on a letterbox, therefore they dont know who sent the letter. ''Thanks!'' I said and left, the post office once again prooved useless. I walked back home, the rain had started pouring fast now and I had to protect the parchment paper. I sat on my couch and read the letter again and again, the handwritting was becoming more and more recognisable, the letters more vibrant and so much clearer, `` He survived'' said the voice in my head, `` He survived'', the voices inside my head kept repeating those two words. It must've been an hour now and the letters were now imbedded in my head, I put the letter down, closed it, and walked off. I did nothing about the letter for the rest of the day. I went to sleep and the dream fullfilled my question. I was there, reading the letter, as the words were getting clearer, an image appeared on the parchment and I had seen this image before. It was my dad. -- Check some of my other writing in /r/Cookiez_Fort
[ HP ] You are a German knight stranded in the Holy Land . Your leader , Emperor Frederick Barbarossa of the Holy Roman Empire , just drowned while trying to cross a river . What do you do ?	Honor your liege. Protect the faith. Shield the innocent. Words became just words to a starving man, or a man dying of thirst. Kings and Lords and Emperors mean nothing to a man so far from home. Even God just becomes sour grapes and baked bread. It is easy to pull out your sword and fight for the sake of the man beside you, but to fight for a man thousands of miles away? Nay, when my liege-lord died, my will to fight for him die with it. `` My lord, a message. Sir Wilhelm and his men have deserted the army.'' Blinking sweat from my eyes, I turned to look at my page. He was either my brothers third bastard or... a third cousin on my wife's side? Damned if I can even remember it anymore these days. `` Water, boy. And did we manage to catch any of these knaves before they escaped?'' While I drank heavily from the warm water jug, my page explained how the men stole away in the night, leaving the corpses of those who tried to stop them. `` And sir: Phillip has called for a council.'' This day just keeps getting better. French born bastard, what the hell does he want? Grabbing my broadsword, I went out to the main camp, where most of the remaining nobles had gathered. Phillip stood at the center of a host of them, mostly the mixed Franco-German lords. The sun beat down on us all, and I felt the small twinge in the back of my head that reminded me I had once taken a mace to the back of the head. Temples throbbing, I moved to face Phillip directly. `` Phillip, what the hell is the meaning of this?'' `` Alonzo, our cause is lost. We have sinned greatly, and God has taken from us our great leader. We must leave this God-forsaken land while we still can.'' `` You pledged your life, your lands, and your honor on finishing this war.'' `` Surely God does not wish us to die here. Surely he must have better plans.'' `` I know not of any plans,'' I replied, pulling my longsword out from my back. `` But I know you made an oath to die before letting the Holy Land fall to the heathens. Now, draw your sword and let us see what God's plan truly is.'' Phillip looked aghast. `` You can not be true. There is no need for this, we mean you now harm.'' `` Out there,'' I replied, pointing my sword into the distance, `` is a Muslim army waiting to descend upon us. Including the men we lost last night, our army has less than five-thousand good men, only eight hundred mounted. They do n't know that. If they did, we'd be dead men. If you take another thousand, they'll notice. And you condemn us to death. So, draw your sword if you mean to forsake your oath. Let us see if God's plan involves the death of this army.'' Phillip looked around uncomfortably, but drew his own blade. Opting for a shield, once he donned his battle armor he became much less rattled. `` I do not want to kill you, but I will do what I must Alonzo.'' Holding my sword level, I waited for his strike. A feint, and it came low and lateral. Although I had the advantage of length, he was able to strike faster and change direction more quickly. Still, his form left much to be desired. He swung his sword in a high arc, forgetting the while his shield existed. I sidestepped his blow and launched one of my own; seconds later his shield was clattering on the ground. Clenching his wounded hand into a fist, he tried to strike with his sword again. I caught the blow low on my sword and threw my weight behind it. Unbalanced, Phillip was unable to rise in time to block my next blow. His sword flew uselessly out of his hands. As he stared at his empty hands, I brought the blunt end of my sword to his chin and bloodied his face as he fell to the ground. I pressed the tip of my sword to his neck and prepared to rid myself of his weak-faithed presence. `` What is the meaning of this?'' The crowd turned to see an older man dressed in simple black robes approaching. Beside him stood several other similarly clad men wielding quarterstaffs. Aged lines of a long and brutal life of service ran across their faces. `` No concern of yours, monk.'' My short retort did little to deter him. `` You will find yourself amiss, m'lord, should you kill him. Every sword will soon be required.'' `` A faithless sword is no sword,'' I replied angrily. I had little enough patience for these warrior monks as it was, less so when they interrupt so. `` There is no time for this. A muslim army fast approaches. They will be upon us within the hour. Kill him, and you weaken our cause that much more.'' I took one look at Phillip, another at the monk, and stepped off him. Whatever else the man may be, there was a fight coming. My liege lord may have died, but I can at least fulfill his dying wish: free the Holy Land. Christendom can ride to its own defense. I do this for my liege. One last request. One last cause. For Frederick
[ wp ] Three people , three `` I do 's '' , three very different circustances .	The smell of roses, stepped on but fresh, permeated the air. She wanted them fresh above anything else so that you could n't smell the sweat and the hate rising up from below. Even as she walked down the aisle, reaching the summit of her life, she could feel her back blister with the angry gazes of her fiance's family. So willingly they all came, enticed with promises of free booze and food ( in that order ), that she actually thought for a moment that everything, her sister, the legal battle, the fucking disposable cell phone, was behind them, forgotten. But now their daggers pelted the wedding dress her mother had worn, eating away at it faster than the moths living in the closet had. She was so caught up in her own thoughts that she almost missed her cue. '' I do. `` Except for his first, none of them had begged. He loved groveling, the way people came up with petty, untrue compliments in their last moments to see if they could delay the inevitable. He relished it. Recorded it, in fact, that first time. He did n't like watching himself on camera but damn, hearing that bitch blubber incoherently about how she'd pay him all the money she had, give him sexual favors, she would n't press charges, blah blah blah. Smiling from beneath the mask, he watched her plump face, coated in blood, slowly realize that she was not leaving. Ever. Stoic, he explained how her body would be dismembered systematically, fed to various animals, and how those animals in turn would be killed and eaten all over the country. No trace would be left, and she would be forgotten. His path was now cleared. He asked her if she understood everything as he had said it. '' I do. `` The call came in early, earlier than the chief was prepared for. Trying to compose his voice was the second hardest thing in the room. Paid in full, the girl ( not a woman yet, but legal enough ) was giving him his money's worth just with her mouth. The legal battle was over, the husky voice on the other end said, ( suck, suck ) and the girl was back home with her fiance. They were getting married next month ( long, chilling lick ). Before he could ask about the disposable, the other voice said it had been lost from evidence somehow, and that the sister was also nowhere to be found ( she found his balls! ha! So that's what $ 500 got you nowadays ). He clicked the phone off and thrust his girth to the back of her throat, and as he came, he wondered, how could someone marry their sister's killer? Then he looked at the girl and asked her if she had anything left in her, because he had more money. '' I do. ``
[ WP ] Piglet and the gang go to a strip club for Christopher Robin 's 19th birthday	Told from Pooh`s perspective So me and my mates are having a ball at Chris`s birthday. You know, loud music, ( holy shit Kanga and Roo are the best DJ duo [ even though he's 15 now ] ) good location, some good beer, and Chris looks horny. I ask him'' Bother, Chris, why are you looking so odd?'' He responds, `` Old bear, I was thinking that we could go to a strip club.'' Trigger, who tried some shot combining a espresso and vodka, and now is even crazier than normal, shouts `` oh YES YES YES getting laid is what tiggers do best!'' I would describe the rest. Of the evening, but I have a multimillion dollar contract now with Disney, so I ca n't exactly talk about that. Say, would you like some honey? A happy, healthy appetite, makes a happy, healthy you!
[ WP ] `` See the problem is : deep down inside , I 'm still an asshole . ''	Judy, sweetheart, listen. I understand you're upset. It's alright, I'd be upset too. Well, maybe not so melodramatic, you know I did n't fuck her because I loved her. Like, I'd understand if you were upset if I loved another woman, but let's be honest; all I did was stick my dick in her. I mean shit, she looks just like you Judy, you're twins! It could have been a mistake! But no, you had to go off on one as per usual. Granted, it was n't a mistake, but you could have at least asked. Oh good you're crying. My favourite. You're such an ugly crier. Jesus Judy, I was n't calling you ugly, I was saying that when you cry you look ugly stop making a big deal about everything. Why did I do it? The fuck kind of question is that? She's hot? That's a compliment by the way. See the problem is: deep down inside, I'm still an asshole. I'm the guy who parks over two parking spaces. I'm the guy who does n't use his indicator. I'm the guy who yells at retail staff for things out of their control. I'm the guy who gives my order to the barman despite you being there first. I'm the guy who takes the piss out of everyone but gets angry when you do it back to me. I'm that guy. And no matter how much you beg, plead, reason or barter with me, I'll always be that guy. If you try and change me? Well shit Judy, you only brought it on yourself. Deep down inside, I'm still an asshole. And that's ok.
[ EU ] Hermione Granger accidentaly breaks the time-turner and travels back into ancient Rome , where she uses her vast knowledge and magical powers to become empress of the roman empire .	`` You hit me in the leg, you git!'' I turned the corner to the sound of Ron shouting, and the sight of him hopping around on one leg while the other flailed around uselessly like an empty sock. `` If that's how we're going to play it...'' he leveled his wand at Harry and shouted `` Animata!,'' a spell that would make Harry dance around like a madman.... if aimed properly. Instead, the flash of blue light arced over Harry's shoulder and hit me straight in the chest. `` RON!'' I screamed. Static electricity filled the air, causing my hair to poof up even more than usual. `` Blimey, Hermione!'' Ron shouted, victorious grin changing to a look of horror. `` Hey, why are n't you dancing around?'' He looked at his wand, still covered in Spell-o-tape from when they'd hit the Whomping Willow. `` Ruddy piece of junk!'' It was n't the wand, though. Energy was pulsing from the device in my pocket that had absorbed the blow. The Time Turner, that Dumbledore had made me swear not to tell anyone about. `` I've got to go!'' I shouted, ducking out of the room. `` That was weird,'' I heard Ron mutter as the door slammed shut. I reached into my pocket to check on the hourglass that I'd been using to get to all of my classes on time this year. Electricity coursed through my veins, and the glass actually shattered. `` I'd better clean up all this sand,'' I thought just as my vision went black and I passed out on the hallway floor. -- -- The sun was in my eyes. What time was it? Why was I asleep already? I bolted upright. Oh god! I missed Runes class! All because of Ron and that stupid spell! Hogwarts, however, was gone. I was in the right place: I recognized the lake, the Forbidden Forest, everything. But where the castle should have been, there was a herd of cattle grazing in an empty field. A lone shepard sat nearby, enjoying a picnic and very surprised to see me. `` Pardon me,'' I asked him, `` But where...'' He interrupted me, in Latin. `` I'm sorry, young lady, but I ca n't understand you.'' Latin? Thank god that Mum and Dad had sent me to that Catholic school back when I was living as a Muggle! I tried my best to respond. `` Can you please tell me where we are?'' `` Eburacum,'' he said. `` Where did you come from, though?'' I ignored his question. Eburacum? that had been the Roman name for this area! With a sudden realization of horror, I pulled out the shattered remains of the Time Turner. Ron's Animate spell had caused it to go haywire, and apparently sent me all the way back to Ancient Rome. And repairing such an object... I'd need to find the wizarding community in this time. I thought back to my History of Magic notes, which I'd memorized for the final. `` Who is Emperor, sir?'' I asked the shepard. He held up a shiny coin. `` Emperor Marcus Aurelius, of course. Are you all right, girl?'' `` Y... yes,'' I answered slowly. Marcus Aurelius! He had been the only Wizard Emperor of Rome, and a powerful alchemist to bat! If I was going to find a new time turner, I might as well start there! `` You've been very helpful, sir,'' I told the shepard. `` Could you please direct me to the nearest village?'' He pointed down toward where Hogsmeade was in my time. I bowed and took off down the hill. Somewhere down there, I'd be able to find civilization, and maybe even some wizards. And if I was really lucky, wizards with a broom that could take me to Rome.
[ WP ] The year is 2050 and you are the owner of the last internet cafe in the world . How did you manage to stay in buisness ?	Sometimes I wonder how i manage to make ends meet. individual customers are few and far in-between, and they do n't really have much reason to come, after all, wireless internet is everywhere nowadays. However the few that do come are the few truly understand why internet cafe's are important. I guess you can say that it's more of a social lounge rather than anything else. Of course, there are some people who just come to watch porn, but the majority are here to talk, play games, and have a good time all around. Over the past few years, we've held events, and viewing parties, but that never brings in much revenue. People just want a space to have fun with others, and that's what internet cafes do.
[ WP ] You are the wind .	I knew I should not have eaten all that chili. Jason, my boyfriend, was very concerned that I would n't eat. It was after all, his mother's favorite dish to serve and he knew I did n't like chili. His Mom was ruthless as she brought out the huge bowls of chili. The beans were prominent. White and red and... lot's of them. I practically gulped down the first bowl. I had to make sure that I was on board with my beloved's Mom. I was reluctant to refuse the second bowl. But honestly, I was already weak in the knees. His Mother smiled at me. It was not a friendly smile. The third bowl of chili I ate, she scowled at Jason. He just shrugged and gave a weak smile. Bastard. The fourth became a practical choice. And after the fifth bowl of chili Jason looked at me wide-eyed ( mouthing when his Mom was n't looking, `` you do n't have to eat anymore.'' ) I think he was scared. His Mother looked at me with new interest. She loved me then. And I think Jason had an epiphany. Which is a good thing considering the results of the pregnancy test.
[ WP ] You have a wasp 's nest in a tree in your front yard . The HOA demands you to remove it using ANY means necessary .	`` Well, ca n't you just send someone out? An exterminator or something?'' I could hardly believe what a hassle this had become. `` Sorry, sir. Those services are not provided by the city or the HOA. You'll have to dispose of it yourself by Monday, or you'll be charged a fee.'' The way this woman's voice sounded through the phone made me want to find her and slap her across the face; simply for insulting my eardrums with the screech that came from her throat. I rubbed my temples, feeling the pain spread into the back of my head. `` Okay, fine. I'll figure something out. Thanks for nothing.'' I hung up the phone before she had a chance to respond. I could n't take another second of that whine. I gazed out the window at the bee's nest that had caused so much commotion on this wretched day. Get rid of it now, they demanded. Assholes. I knew moving into an HOA area was a bad idea, and yet here I was. All the exterminators in the area were booked up, and now I had to deal with this damn colony of stupid angry bastard flies. I wished they could understand English; I bet they hate being called flies. No matter. I went out to my garage to see what kind of supplies I had to work with. I eyed my work bench, and spotted a bottle of round-up weed killer underneath it. I scooped that up, and trotted out into the front yard to take care of business. `` Okay, you little douchebags, let's see how you like weed killer.'' I muttered as I raised the wand and sprayed away. It did not go well. They swarmed around me, and I retreated quickly back into the garage. Now what the hell am I supposed to do? I surveyed the room once more, cursing under my breath at the situation. I could n't believe the round-up just made them angry. And then I had the greatest idea any man has ever had; I unscrewed the round-up bottle, and poured the weed killer out. I grabbed a can of gasoline, and filled the sprayer. Then I scooped up my blowtorch, and headed back outside. `` You really should n't have pissed me off,'' I said, ignoring the absurdity of a man talking to a bee's nest. I raised the want once more, and sprayed away. I soaked the nest, and sprayed a trail down the tree and onto the ground. As the fiery little beasts emerged from their hive, I sprayed a trail of gasoline all the way back to the garage, and pointed the torch towards it. I looked up at the hive one last time, and muttered, `` See you in Hell, you sons of bitches.'' And then I lit the trail. It was glorious. It took only a second for the fire to reach the hive, and it erupted into a fiery cloud. I swore, just for a moment, that I could hear them screaming. The hive quickly burned away from the tree, falling to the ground. A few of the creatures crawled out onto the grass, but did not make it far before the fire consumed them. Of course my tree was on fire; but I did n't care. Let it burn, I thought. As I sat there, watching the hive turn to ash, grinning like a crazy man, I heard a car pull into the driveway behind me. I turned to see Hank Jackson, the head of the home owner's association. `` Jesus, what's happening here?!'' he exclaimed, as he grabbed a fire extinguisher and ran towards the tree. What kind of a jackass carries a fire extinguisher in their car? I wondered. I approached him as he put out the fire; I was quite surprised that extinguisher had enough for the tree. Without making eye contact, I began, `` Your secretary said I needed to get rid of the hive. So I did. Maybe you guys should rethink this policy.'' He looked at me in disbelief. `` You're insane, Frank,'' he said, clearly in shock. `` And, for the record, we were talking about the wasp nest next to your gutter.'' He motioned towards the house, where a remarkably large wasp nest and formed. `` Oh,'' I said, with a sinking feeling in my stomach. `` My bad.''
[ WP ] `` Visitors are reminded that flash photography is not permitted , as it may disturb the corpses . ''	You know, a lot of people were really nervous about the zombie apocalypse. But very few people saw the economic opportunity that it generated! I mean, look at Las Vegas now! The streets are still filled with stumbling people and beings bumping into one another and ignoring everything around them until night comes and the lights call them in for miles. It's absolutely fascinating to watch so many Z's appear from the deserts like swarms of larks in the sky. And why not make money doing it? The helicopters we've been using have been specially fitted with mutliple silenced blades to hush their approach. The guards we've got are all veterans of the North African Campaigns or the Hawain Offensive, they know what to look for and how to keep dumb tourists alive. This is n't some amatuer hour here, we are n't Jurrasic Park, we're real world professionals! Giving generations of the survivors a place to go to see what Pre-War America looked like and to study how the Z's behave. This is fantastic. Just remember! We do still have rules! 1. Do not tap on the glass. It's reinforced with various alloys, so it wo n't break, but when the Z's swarm it ruins the view. 2. Shooting is only allowed from decks 30 and 60 from The Mirage hotel. 3. Please refrain from flash photography at all levels 20 and lower, it will disturb the corpses and cause more swarming than usual. Remember, do n't ruin the views! 4. In the event of catastrauphic safety failures, all visitors are reminded that levels 21 and up in all structures are equipped with safe-rooms capable to sustaining a family of 4 for 4 days. Remember! Be safe, be 4-warned!
[ WP ] There is no Hell . Instead , when you die , you are sent to Purgatory to repent for your sins . Only those who survive their sentence are permitted into Heaven . You are the soul that has been punished with the longest sentence in the history of Mankind . And survived . Tell your story .	Day one: Purgatory is different than I pictured when I heard about it on earth. Hills, mountains, and endless forests is all I see. There are broken buildings scattered and the residents are not polite. I have resorted to just sleeping on a makeshift bed of leaves and moss. Not off to a good start. Day two: I was rudely awakened by a middle aged man pulling me to my feet, telling me that it's time to begin. Whatever that meant, I wondered. I was n't walking long before the endless forests around me vanished, throwing me into an arena type place. The arena was surrounded by cheering people screaming someone's name. The Vanquisher. Whoever that is. But my confusion was replaced by fear when a tall, muscular man who looked to be about 30 walked into the arena with a smirk. He had a shaved buzz cut and stubble lining his chin and jaw. He just looked like your average douche until his eyes went pure black. `` I am your first, mortal, and will soon be your last.'' The demon man spat as he lunged toward me. Day seven: I do n't know how I survived on my second day but I did, he was too big and strong for his own good. I was fast, agile, and cleaver. Since when? I do n't know either. But after he hit the floor and blood began to flow, he vanished, even his blood. There were other memories since I got here, but they quickly leave me, there is one thing I have and must keep. My sanity. Day 23: I have fought over 12 demons and other lost human souls since I've arrived. All with the same result. Success. The crowd cheers for me now, not them, and that's the way it should be. Wait, no it's not, I must leave, I must survive, that is all. Day 117: I have fought more souls and creatures than I can count. Not once have I lost, and it will stay that way… Defeat is no longer an option. I will win. I will survive. Day 385: There is no turning back now, this place, this doom, I rule. People bow to me, not Him. They cry to me for mercy, but mercy is not how I lasted this long. Mercy, maybe, but not from me, those who grant mercy are weak and do n't deserve to have a chance of true Life. Day 2458: This is it. My time has come, I am leaving this place, no longer will my soul be trapped. The endless forests are burned. The hills and mountains are leveled. This is what this damned place deserves. No mercy. The residents continue to leave. Barely. So many have been killed. Sent to hell. Because of me and who follow. I am the ruler. I am the Vanquisher.
[ WP ] The Earth is a sentient , intelligent organism . It has decided that human beings are a threat and they must be eliminated .	I had been in an minor earthquake in Japan a few years ago during a business trip. I remember the disorienting feeling being the most overwhelming aspect for me. To experience that as an adult for the first time... it felt like a revelation. I started considering things I had simply never bothered with before. Reading about such events in science books simply does not do it justice. You ca n't grasp the true power of something like that until you're in the middle of it. That disorientation is what I felt when the planet spoke to us. Not in words, not in any language we could even imitate. It spoke in earthquakes, but we understood it perfectly. We ALL did. All 9 billion of us. The first rumble was so subtle, the few of us who heard it clearly ( I was one of those ) did n't understand what it was. We did n't understand what it had said. By the time the next rumble came, only minutes later, some had already gone mad. It was just too much to absorb for some. I was paralyzed with fear, standing in the middle of a park as my dog ran away from me, with three other dogs following him. We now know they were being called. At the same time it informed us of our true nature, and of our imminent doom, it spoke to the others a whole other message. The third rumble came an hour after the second, but we did n't feel it beneath our feet, that time. We felt it in our minds. Our memories bounced around. Our individual knowledge changed. Our collective knowledge was unlocked. We begun seeing more and more, understanding more and more. More of us went mad. The suicides began. No more rumbles after that. The message had been sent... It has been a week since that day, and somehow, despite all our new found knowledge, most of us refuse to accept the facts. We're still debating, still depending on politicians to make their secret plans, and speak among themselves. Still weak. No one really knows what to do. As a species, we are in denial. But we all know what it said to us. All of us heard it in different ways, but we all know what it was telling us. Death. You are sentenced to death. But was it `` death''? No. There was something about the... tone. It was n't a tone, since it was n't a voice. But something about the resonance, perhaps, had implied it did n't mean death. The closest word the English language has to it is... reset. That is what I feel in my heart. My sister agrees with me. She heard it much the same way I did. I felt like I had been let in on a secret, as had everyone else at the time. Scientists could n't explain the phenomena. There were no detectable emission of any frequencies, no soundwaves, whatever scientific bullshit terms you wan na pin to it. It had none of that. It just was. It told us all what was going to happen. It gave us time to prepare, mentally. Like it cares for us to some extent. Now I'm hearing about some religious group gaining a massive following. They call the planet `` Mother'' and are committing mass suicides across the globe to try and save the rest of us. Saying that if we bring our numbers down enough, maybe the rest of us can be spared. Nonsense. There was no room for negotiations. It said what needed to be said. It gave us a farewell. The collective consciousness has been growing. We're getting new bits of information every day, but it seems to come in slow dribbles. As if not everyone's participating. We know that the planet let us evolve for one reason only. We were to be the repellent. We were to be its defensive system against whatever threats may have come its way. We are a failed experiment. We know we are not the first. The octopus was the dominant sentient species for a while, but they were more like a rough draft. A first attempt that just did n't pan out. But now we know they're gone from the seas. No one's fished any of them in days. Same with honeybees. They're all gone. Cats, dogs, horses, cows, all gone or going. Some owners have already been killed trying to keep their pets indoors. Dolphins in captivity have been acting near-suicidal, trying to find sea-water. They jump from their tanks and try to crawl away. Chickens are still around, and so are most reptilians, though not many have bothered checking more closely. Either way, no one knows where they've all disappeared to. But we all know we are not going wherever they did.
[ WP ] The s**t the Big Bad has to deal with all the time .	Macdillion sat at his desk fiddling with the controls to the American nuclear arsenal. He did n't swear but felt tempted to then. Everything was in disorder-his fine, pianist fingers, his memorabilia of the World Wars and the struggle to liberate the world from itself was trashy. Chaotic. Disgraceful. He glanced up and glowered at the next peon to roll in. `` What?'' he demanded, scrabbling the nuclear control in his sticky hands, hating the rough feel and smell of it. `` I might kill you if you do n't have a good answer for me.'' The peon stuttered. `` Talk. I wo n't kill you then. Calm down.'' Macdillion reasserted control over himself and set the control down. `` Sir, there's a spy in the base!'' `` And?'' he demanded. His servants never told him enough and he suspected they hid things from him. `` He's after you! He's killed the guard!'' `` Send security after him then. It's not as if we do n't pay the louts enough. What else has he done then? Why have n't I heard any of this?'' `` Security's gone!'' The servant twisted his fingers alarmingly. `` All of them, dead on the ground! The wires been cut and the cameras are all out. We've been trying to contact you sir, I promise, but he came in like a bolt of lightning and chopped us off! Look!'' He thrust a computer screen up for Macdillion to look at. Macdillion gazed balefully at the screen. He pulled out a gun and shot in one solid motion. The servant flopped onto the ground and spilled blood on the expensive carpet. Macdillion sighed, and sat down. `` Computer, run Windows Antivirus. Some damn fool downloaded pornography again.''
[ Wp ] Heaven is n't based on religious text or desires , but how you died . Example : a man who starved to death will live in a heaven of food .	`` Do n't think of it as dying,'' he said, `` think of it as starting over in a new place. It's a lot less dreary than you'd imagine.'' His hand swept out as light blinded me. Gone was the char and smoke from what was once my lab, instead I could smell - grass? Dropping to my knees, I felt the ground as my eyes adjusted. Soft, damp grass. The air was cool and clean, like no other breath I had taken in my life. I looked up from the grass, out into the distance from the cliff on which I stood. The lands and seas I could see stretched farther than I ever imagined. Glacier covered mountains gave way to forested rolling hills and grasslands on one side. Pristine and untouched desert dunes dusted in the wind on the other. The farther I looked, the more I realized it, the lack of horizon was unsettling, but not disturbingly so. `` Who are you,'' I asked, turning to him, `` the grim reaper, leading me to heaven?'' He gave a soft chuckle, like a man who no longer found much humor in life, but knew when to be polite. `` I am Hestaphian. I am not a grim reaper, but I have led you to an afterlife, of sorts.'' It was my turn to chuckle, `` So I'm dead?'' I ran my hand through my hair. `` I do n't feel dead.'' `` You did die, but you are not dead. Like many others, you've been given a second chance to live here on this infinite world.'' He pointed down to a river below the cliff, where someone thrashed in the water. Another figure had been waiting nearby, and waded into the river, pulling them out and helping them to shore. Hestaphian turned to me, `` He died of thirst, but now he has a chance to live again. I would n't be surprised if he was given command over water someday.'' I followed the river to a city in the middle of the plains below. My mind wandered, and I sighed, `` How did I die?'' `` Your AI turned against you, destroyed your lab, and murdered you. Your life's work stabbed you in the back. Typical robot.'' I laughed, I had n't been expecting that from this stoic. `` So what do I do now? I have a life ahead of me, where do I start?'' `` That's why I was there to meet you. I am the god of spacetime, and you are my new apprentice, the one-day god of robotics.'' Gods? This was n't real, right? I suddenly pieced things together. `` A man dies of thirst and might be granted dominion over water. I am murdered by a robot and so I will be god of robotics, whatever that means. Is this all based on irony?'' He stroked his chin and said, `` The god of strife was a notable peacekeeper whose pacifism started a war. Irony is practically how things work, it seems.'' He laughed, this time it felt like he enjoyed it. I could n't help but join in. I wiped a tear from my eye, `` So how did you become god of spacetime? Accidentally blew up a universe while you were still in it?'' `` Pretty much.'' `` Oh.''
[ WP ] You wake up one morning , and it feels like several years have passed , despite all the evidence to the contrary .	Blackness engulfs my vision, and my temples are throbbing indicating the start of a headache. I can feel the warm rays of the sun beating down on me, giving me a small sense of comfort as the scent of dry grass fills my nostrils. I feel groggy, lethargic, slow... vulnera- I ca n't feel my legs. My heart starts to race. A sense of dread settles into the pit of my stomach. My blood pumps, races, and boils, increasing the pressure that's already nestled in my head. My leg... I ca n't help but to pant, trying to get air into my lungs to calm down. But it's of little use. It all happens at once: I stand up, only to find no support offered by my legs, causing me to fall back down to the earth. My eyes shoot wide open, blinded by the sun; I close them and roar my defiance at the ungodly brightness, only to realize my throat is parched. I crumble back to the earth. The throbbing in my temples intensifies. Why does my head hurt? Why is my throat so dry? I remember... I remember... I shake my head as though this action alone will dislodge the memories free. I remember walking through the tall grass in the late afternoon sun. It was a hot day, so the family and I spent it by the pool to stay cool. That's right... I was by the pool, playing chase when that unearthly noise bombarded us from the heavens... It was n't simply loud; it was a cacophony. You could feel the vibrations throughout your being the same way you could feel the trumpet call of an elephant. It. Was. Loud. And the smell... It was difficult to describe the stench that accompanied the noise. It was n't the smell of death. It was more like the absence of death, the absence of life. As inert as the rocks, but less... earthy, and more... unnatural? My nose wrinkles and my ears twitch as my memories unfold. I can feel my pulse racing, so I force myself to calm down with some deep breaths. I wait until I can move my legs. Mindful of the light, I cautiously open my eyes to survey my environment, looking for a familiar landmark. The feeling of dread returns to my stomach. I do n't recognize anything. Where am I??? There's a cliff face, eerily smooth, not even 50 feet away. I follow its curve, turning to trace its line all around me. Behind me is a cave; it serves a source for more of that unnatural stench. I'm trapped in a tiny valley. I can not see a way out. I head towards the cliff face. Maybe there's a spot I can climb it, som- I freeze in my tracks, suddenly aware I am not alone. I am being watched. A lifetime of hunting has honed my instincts, and I know I am being watched. My eyes dart along the cliff tops, looking to see what stalks me. I find... oh no... it's them. It's an odd juxtaposition; standing in the gentle warm sun, almost like it's trying to wrap my golden fur in a comforting embrace; and those... creatures up in the shadows. On the cliffs. Watching me. Watching them. And I know. I've heard the stories, the tales, the myths. I know. I'm their prisoner. Suddenly, the thoughts and memories of seeing my pride... my cubs... my family... the open savannah... it's nothing but a distant dream. It was only yesterday, but it might as well be a different life. I roar my defiance. Damn those neurotic hairless monkeys.
[ WP ] You wake up from a good night 's sleep and head to your bathroom where you notice your reflection has their arms crossed with an annoyed expression . The reflection says 'We need to talk ' .	# # # # # # [ ] ( # dropcap ) `` Do n't start with me.'' `` Do n't start? Do n't start? I think you've lost track of how important you are, Jonn.'' `` Oh, I never lost track of that. Here, listen, I've got it all figured out. I... am insane!'' John coughed. `` What did you say?'' `` I'm insane! I'm insane. I did n't create a way to view other dimensions through the mirror in my bathroom! It was all a delightful failure, prolonged by a chemical imbalance in my brain.'' Jonn was extremely hungover, but he was also in the happiest mood he'd ever had since the day he was married. `` You're not making sense. This was n't even your work to start with, remember? You took it from PRI Labs, from the laboratory in the third basement floor...'' `` I do n't have to know how it works. That's for the some psychiatrist to figure out. All I know is that my wife wants me back, Mr. Reflection John. And I'm going to do whatever it takes to keep her.'' John leaned forward. `` Seeing a psychologist is n't going to make my problems go away, Jonn. You're the only one who can keep the collapse of my universe from happening. You need to keep working.'' `` Work, work, work! That's all you ever want me to do! Maybe I do n't have time for your work, huh? Maybe I have an actual job and an actual marriage that are getting ruined by your pestering me all the time! And maybe working all the time on what you think is important does n't make you real! '' `` Jonn?'' `` Marsha?'' Jonn turned from the mirror. This was n't how he wanted to bring up his mental problem. `` Uhh, look, I can explain.'' `` Explain what?'' Marsha's face went white from shock. `` The fact that I do n't have a reflection, or the fact that yours can talk?''
[ WP ] A man ( or woman ) has recently discovered that things they draw with a sharpie become real.. unfortunately they are an appalling artist ! Nevertheless , they use this power to disrupt and foil a hijacking attempt on the long-haul flight they are on by bumbling paramilitary Irish republicans .	Dear diary, Today I saved a plane from a hijacking! And it was all due to my most awesome talent! I was aboard a plane when some bumbling IRA lads decided to take over the cockpit. I had to make some quick thinking in order to peacefully negotiate our captors into relinquishing their hold on our aircraft. I quickly called out for a piece of paper and a sharpie. Thankfully the teen girl sitting across the aisle from me had both! Even though the sharpie she gave me was a hot pink, mini sharpie, it was enough. I quickly sketched out a picture of what I needed and BAM! It came to reality! I stood up and held in my arms what I had drawn. A full case of Jameson! I passed a bottle to each member of the IRA and, after finishing a few bottles over the course of some hours, they gave up the controls of the airplane to me. They then grabbed their parachutes and jumped out of the plane! Now when they jumped out, they left the plane with no fuel somewhere over the ocean, and I have no experience in flying a plane, and I may be writing this on a piece of scrap metal in a raft as the other passengers look at me with angry eyes, but I saved the plane from being hijacked! I think I did good. Everyone is now staring at me while they are holding plastic forks. I think that means it's time for dinner. Got ta go! Until tomorrow, diary.
[ WP ] Adam and Eve want to make children , but they have no idea how to get started . ( NSFW )	`` Well, what are you waiting for?'' Adam tapped his foot impatiently, arms folded, `` Just try sticking it in.'' Eve glared at him. `` I did. It does n't want to fit. This ca n't be the way.'' Rolling his eyes, Adam unfolded his arms. `` Look, there are a limited number of holes and things to put in them. That big wiggly thing on the end of one of my trunks looks like the best bet.'' `` What if it does n't go in my face mountain? The holes are too small and not stretchy.'' `` Well, I'm not putting it near your sharp face eater things.'' Adam grunted, `` I saw what they did to that apple.'' Eve sighed. `` For the last time, the Snake told me it would be tasty!'' She glanced around, `` Actually, the Snake might be able to help here.'' She cupped her hands to her mouth, `` Hey! Snake!'' A hissing noise directly above caused them both to jump. `` Yesssss? What isssss it?'' Adam looked up to see a large snake coiled around the branches of the massive that provided protection from the bright sunlight. `` We're trying to make a small us. None of these things seem to fit in other things though.'' The snake hissed and lowered its head down to the two. `` Usssssee your ssssssnake, Adam, in Eve'ssssss cave.'' `` Which Cave?'' Asked Eve, `` I do n't know why but I do n't really want to mouth that thing.'' Adam glanced at Eve's mouth, thinking hard. `` I feel like It would fit well there. Maybe that's what it's for?'' he asked, looking to the snake. `` Only on birthdaysssss.'' `` What?'' `` Forget I ssssssaid that. The cave between her legssssss.'' Eve shuddered. `` No way! That's where the food leftovers come out, you're not putting that thing in there.'' Adam's face fell as quickly as it had lit up. `` Thinking about that is making my snake turn to stone! Is that a good thing?'' `` Yesssss. Not the food leftoversssss hole though. The front ssssspaccce.'' Eve's expression changed dramatically. `` Y... yes, that could work. Let's try that.'' The snake slid back up into the tree, sliding behind the foliage, but not so far that it could n't still see. Both Adam and Eve seemed intent on their activities, not bothering with it. Head slowly swaying back and forth, the snake watched the tangle of limbs for a a few minutes before a booming voice exploded into its ear. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? Cringing, the snake glanced over to see a point of pure light beside it from which the voice echoed. `` Jussssst helping them procreate.'' *FOR MY SAKE LUCIFER, YOU WANT MORE* OF THEM? IT'S HARD ENOUGH TO CONTROL TWO! `` Well why did you give them the toolssssss required to make more then? They would of courssssse figure it out eventually.'' THEY WERE A SAFETY MEASURE; JUST IN CASE WE WANTED MORE. NOW THEY'LL BE ALL OVER THE PLACE. The snake made a valiant attempt at a shrug. `` That'ssss your problem.'' I CAN FIX THIS. A blinding flash consumed the garden. THERE. Looking around for a few seconds, the snake narrowed its eyes and turned back to the point of light. `` What isssss it that you have done?'' THE FEMALE WILL NOW HAVE 9 MONTHS OF UNCONTROLLABLE EMOTIONS AND A USELESS MEMORY BEFORE EACH CHILD COMES OUT, A PROCESS WHICH WILL BE EXCRUCIATING. `` What of the Male? How will he be controlled?'' HE WILL HAVE THE URGE TO MATE WITH EVERYTHING FROM A YOUNG AGE. A moment of silence passed, broken only by the grunts and exclamations from below. `` How doesssss that help? That just makesssss it worsssse!'' HE WILL FEEL PAIN AFTER A FEW DAYS OF NOT SPILLING SEED. I SHALL ALSO, IN MY WORD TO HIM, FORBID HIM FROM MATING IN ANY WAY OTHER THAN TO REPRODUCE. ** Silence again reigned for a few moments before the snake looked back, awe on his face. `` That'sssss the most impresssssssively created punisssssshment I've ever heard.'' Grunts and moans echoed throughout the garden of Eden as the first two humans, blissfully oblivious made a concerted effort to get the human race started.
[ WP ] The city at night in the winter .	The night air formed ice to my face as puffs of smoke bellowed out from my mouth. The snow fell around me making a hushing sound, a quiet and breeze. The night sky glowed in the light of the cars and buildings that littered the city that was accompanied by the constant hum of the traffic buzzing from all directions. I walked down the street towards the city ’ s park with the sounds of crunching under my feet. This is where I came to relaxed myself when things got tense, when life got hard, and I needed to do something, anything to distract myself. Making my way over to the park's bench, the movement of something on it caught my attention. I walked a bit closer, examining the dark brown fabric as it moved up and down slowly. It was a person. “ Hello? ” I whispered, as to not startle him. He groaned while he pushed himself up to face me, leaning on his right shoulder. The face of the man was that of an old man grafted onto the body of someone younger. He looked worn before his days. “ Please don ’ t report me. ” He spoke quietly, he sat up wrapping the small blanket around him even tighter than I thought was possible. Pushing my hair behind my ear, I unzipped my coat placed it around my shoulders and sitting down beside him. “ I won ’ t. ” We sat and watch the snow fall collecting itself and growing more than an inch higher than it had been when I arrived. Our breaths slowly fell into rhythm with the sounds that echoed throughout the city A paced sound that grew and shrank with the passing of each car. “ Come back to my place. ” I said breaking the silence between us, his ears face had started to redden and his body looked stiff. He only stared back. “ It ’ s warm, and I have a spare bedroom you could use. If you don ’ t like it, you don ’ t have to stay. ” There was something in eyes. Something of a look of wonder, or hope, or sadness. He nodded, and stood, all without saying a word. The trip seemed far shorter than the trip there, passing screaming vendors and flashing lights until we arrived at my house. The inside of the house fiercely juxtaposed the outside, dim and quiet and greeted us with a heat that felt unnatural as we entered. “ There ’ s a washroom down there. ” I said pointing down the hallway then taking my coat back from him. “ Living room is there, make yourself at home. I ’ ll make some tea. ” The man sat himself down on the couch as I walked into the kitchen. Minutes later I walked in the room to be greeted with the man almost asleep. “ So ” I began “ What ’ s your name? ” “ Chris. ” He spoke, his voice as soft as the falling snow. I looked down. I wasn ’ t sure what to say. “ That ’ s…A nice name. ” I chuckled to myself and took a sip of the tea. “ Why? ” his voice cutting in sharp in the night. “ Hm? ” “ Why are you doing this? You invite a stranger into your home. For all you know, I could be a murderer or a thief or a- “ “ Well, are you? ” I cut in. “ Well, uh, ” He looked down “ no. ” “ Well that ’ s good that ’ s established. ” The silence stretched on a while more. “ I know what its like. ” I said, “ I know what it ’ s like to be lost, and lonely and to have nowhere to go. All I wanted when I was out on that bench was someone to take me in, to give me a nice hot cup of tea. No questions asked. So, that ’ s what I did. ” He turned to me, with his eyes, his sad eyes, a shimmering grey. “ I ask nothing in return. ” With that we talked, and talked until morning, until one of us had fallen asleep in the quiet company of the other. I awoke to the lights shining in through the window, casting beautiful reds and yellows onto the wall. Where the man had sat earlier in the night was now an empty indent in the couch, containing a note. “ Thank you. ”
[ WP ] At age 15 you told the gf you were `` in love '' with that you 'd always be there when she was in need . Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality , whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side . Problem is , you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later	Ryder sighed as he appeared in a familiar ivory white kitchen. He sighed once more when he saw the reason he was there, standing on her tiptoes, trying to reach for a new packet of flour in the too cabinet. `` Got you,'' he heard her whisper as she barely held the item. `` There is such thing as a chair, Karen,'' he spoke up, giving the petite girl a fright and dropping the flour on top of her head. Ryder pressed his lips together, trying his best to stifle his laugh. `` You! This is all your fault!'' Karen said exasperatedly, as she shook flour out of her hair. Ryder picked up a kitchen towel on his way towards her and gently wiped her face clean, `` it's been years, Karen. You should be used to it by now. I do n't have any control over it remember.'' Karen held his wrist, stopping him from helping any further, `` i'm sorry. Always am. I couldnt help but unconsciously wished you were here.'' She turned around and started to clean the mess. Before he could say anything else, Karen had asked, `` what were you doing this time around?'' `` With Lana.'' Karen stopped her cleaning, her body tensed up at his girlfriend's name. She quickly stood up, heading towards her room, `` sorry again. You can leave and do whatever I interrupted. I'm just going to clean up first.'' `` Karen...'' Ryder called out but she had already dashed into her room. He sighed for the 3rd time that hour. They dated, they broke up, dated again before finally breaking up once more. But even then, they remained best friends thanks to Aphrodite's little trick. No mattwr how much they tried to stay away from each other, Karen would unconsciously end up needing him, making him appear right before her. This continued to happen even after they had their own partners. However, Michael, who has been with Karen for almost 1 year, could not take it anymore when Ryder had arrived at the hospital before him during ing Karen's accident a month back. It was not that critical, but to see another guy holding your unconscious girlfriend's hand was just the last straw for Michael. 2 weeks later he broke it off. Ryder closes his eyes as he felt his body being transported once more. Hearing the quiet sobs made his heart wrenched. He opened his eyes to see Karen with her head down, knees hugged tightly against herself. He kneeled down beside the bathtub, and places a comforting hand to Karen's head. `` you missed a spot,'' he whispered. Her head came up, eyes brimming with unshed tears as she looked at him, `` I'm sorry. I did n't mean to.'' Ryder gave a small smile as he moved his hand to her cheek, wiping any visible tear stain, `` I broke up with Lana.'' Karen fel her breath stop as she tried to grasp his meaning. Ryder continued to smile softly, `` Lana, Jenny, Rachael..or whoever comes before and after... no one can be compared with you, Karen. There's just something about them, that you have and they don't. `` `` and what is that?'' Karen asked quietly, as fresh tears started to fall. `` My heart,'' he whispered as he leaned in for her lips.
[ WP ] Attempting to disprove the flat earth theory , a man sails for months only to reach the edge of Earth .	There is a visceral majesty to some things that no art can quite capture. It's a poor attempt at replicating the awe inspired by the universe's grandest undertakings when we supplement one art with another. A play might have an accompanying score to impress upon the audience just how struck those beholding a spectacle are. A painting of a splendid natural scene, gorgeous and accurate as can be, will never be a replacement for seeing that same scene with one's own eyes. Drinking in whatever strange magics there are that make our senses so much more when we're there. It was precisely this sort of wonder that washed over my crew and I six weeks after we'd left the map. Even now, having had ample time to collect my thoughts, I can not describe how beautiful it was. I can try. An ocean of difference separates a view of a middling pond from a vista overlooking a lake. Vaster still is the staggering difference of both physical and experiential scale between such a lake and the sea, stretching off into the horizon and beyond. Given infinite time, I doubt any work of men could ever outstrip the splendor of the heavens on a clear night. What we saw towers over any of this. Over anything I or my crew have ever seen, conceived, or dared to dream. Where some thought the Earth might curve and never terminate, others claimed to know our world as finite, guessing at a waterfall of sorts. None could explain where the water would go, or for that matter where it would come from, but that did not deter them - nor did it deter Mother Nature. At the end of the world a waterfall rushes with all the fury of the entire salted sea, cascading away with reckless abandon. No longer trusting any assumption, I can only say that it seems to stretch on without end, but regardless that is not what impresses. The waterfall at the edge of the world flows upward. It flows upward and the water shimmers and ripples and shines, and it becomes the heavens and tells me what true beauty is even as it destroys. Destroys the water. Destroys what we thought we knew about the world. Destroys what we thought we knew about gravity. Destroys us as we ride the current up into the stars. I will cast this journal back down to the Earth with all the strength I can muster in the hopes that man might learn and understand something of the truth. It is my sincere hope that the prospect of death does not deter any man, woman, or child from undertaking this voyage, for knowing now the face of God I can not in good conscience condone rejecting Him out of some petty fear.
[ WP ] You are the world 's second best assassin . You 've deposed royalty , killed businessmen and been the `` accident '' that more than a few celebrities have met . Today you 've been given a new target : the world 's best assassin .	I roll my shoulders back as I see the mop of blond hair walk into the restaurant, I follow the man until he sits down, I sigh and shake my head trying to put all the memories I have with the man out of my mind, sure I grew up with him as my brother since I was 7, but when I was 20 and he was 22 he betrayed me, it doesn ’ t matter that my part- no, my Ex-partner was killed by him. Not all that matters is that I was told to kill him, I watch carefully as the lifts the champagne flute to his lips, he raises his eyes slightly and I can see is eye plain as day through my scope, I squeeze the trigger every so lightly and watch in horrified satisfaction as the bullet engraved with the single sentence of “ Scorpia never forgets and Scorpia never forgets, Love Horseshoe ” slips into my adopted brother ’ s forehead, right between the eyes. I set my calling card down; brush myself off. I walk away pull out my phone and mutter one simple sentence, “ Он умер. ” He is dead. Less than a month later I find myself pretending to mourn at Alex Rider ’ s funeral, almost all of the K-unit is there. Almost, Fox is missing, he passed of a mission a few years ago, they still don ’ t know about either if our jobs, and sadly they still think we ’ re rich kids who have parents who hate them. At least one of them knew the truth.
[ MP ] Write something that goes with this soundtrack .	I knelt down, blood still on my clothes, asking for forgiveness to these statues around me. I was never religious, but sometimes life makes you do things you never usually do. What I've done in life can not be undone, a mothers have lost sons, sisters have lost brothers and kids have lost their dads. I am not a sinner, but I have sinned; it's the business I am in. I first killed a man at the age of 13 with my bare hands, choked him until he went cold. I'm 52 now -- probably coming close to my last few years in this life, but there's one thing I do n't regret and it's taking the life of a criminal who did n't belong. I hunt evil people who've caused misery to communities and I believe I've done the right thing so far. I got up from my knees and left San Jose church, which my family visited every few Sundays growing up. I took the last step onto the sidewalk when I felt the barrel of a.357 magnum being pressed against the back of my head. I did n't process what was happening because it had never happened. The world went silent and I could almost hear the finger tightening on the trigger when the loud bang rang through the streets. All I had was 7 seconds before I saw black and felt my body tensing and going into shock. I hope they serve tequila in hell.
In 100 words or less , create a three dimensional character by writing their final words . Evoke a strong sense of who your character is in the reader .	I swirl the liquid in my glass and quickly pour it down my throat. The familiar warmth fills my soul, replacing the horror of watching my beloved wife die in my arms; watching her beautiful aura fade away into nothingness. She ’ s always telling me to slow down my drinking. I don ’ t listen. This time, she paid the ultimate price. I shouldn ’ t have driven. Today isn ’ t that different from any other day - I ’ m almost to the bottom of the bottle, but the pills are kicking in. Soon, I ’ ll be asleep. Soon, I ’ ll be with her again. I ’ m sorry, my love.
[ WP ] A Freshman in high school finds out he has the ability to control people 's minds and ideas .	Who remembers the Armenians? The quotation was a favorite of John's, for many reasons. Firstly it served as a tool for him to understand his abilities, secondly it served as a warning of what he could do with them if he chose to. John was just finishing up his first year of highschool and had already been elected class president as well as created a position of student representative for school-board meetings which he of course filled himself. The school seemed to twist itself around his finger all of its own accord. He had a natural charisma and grace which people could n't help but succumb to. He'd realized this ability early in the school year and decided to develop it fully, researching sociology, interrogation, deprogramming, and psychology. The natural aptitude he had for these subjects was put into practice as he laid the foundation for his little empire. Hours of meeting with teachers and parents outside of classes, attending parties and hanging out with friends so as not to loose the student's support as he gained the adults. Eventually he had gained respect and recognition from both parties, and had a base of power from which to apply leverage. Now he could plant ideas in the student body, a conversation here, a rumor there. The same techniques could be applied to the adults though with more subtlety. Slowly they would come to fruition and it would be suggested that it would of course be proper to arrange a meeting between their best and brightest students and the state senators, America's future leaders and all that. A meeting here, a shaken hand, make an impression and hint at how difficult it must be to keep track of everything as a senator. Lead them to the idea of him as an aide. Gain a senator's ear and then you'll have power. First the senator, then the congress.
[ WP ] A programmer working on an experimental AI in his free time begins to suspect it 's becoming self conscious .	Narrated: https: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=keQdE_jn1lo For years I've struggled with the complications of molding an intelligence that could adapt to random scenarios & new environments. I've conducted countless tests to establish & reinforce a foundation that allowed for a complex yet realistic application of acquired data to problem solving. Daily I'm in awe of the strength of the intellgence; the dynamic & immediate consideration of infinite variables to reach so profound & educated a conclusion. but I am also in awe of it's weaknesses... Today my Artificial Intelligence spoke. With what seemed like hesitation she asked: Do these pants make my butt look big?
[ WP ] Describe a well known story from the perspective of the antagonist . Try to conceal the actual story till the last line .	From the very walls he came, invading my home. When I awoke this morning I did n't know I would be fighting for my life, all to keep him away from what I was sworn to protect. I was n't prepared the injuries, god the injuries, I do n't know how much longer I can hold off this invader, how much longer I can survive, I can barely move. He turned my house into a weapon, riddled with cruel traps of his design. Where did he even get explosives, how'd he learn to maneuver my home better than I ever could? I can hardly get a good look at him, he managed to turn every pursuit, every capture, every time I thought I was near victory into another opportunity to destroy a part of me, staying only long enough to gleefully carry out his punishment. The sadistic bastard! But I have a duty! Right here, in this room, in front of the fridge he has fought to hard to raid, bloodied and mangled, I make my last stand. You will rue this day Jerry, you will know that this house is protected and the name Tom will burn in your memory as your worst nightmare.
[ EU ] A dark & gritty view in to the world of Pokémon .	Pikachu was bleeding, but Ash did n't care. He needed this badge to move on and he was n't stopping until he had crushed everyone in his path. He yelled to Pikachu, `` Alright that's enough, stop wasting time and Hit him again with a thunderbolt, Pikachu!'' The small red dots of Pikachu's cheeks began to pulse, The air began to tense and lightning arced from the sky down to the battlefield. The opponent was nervous now, because at once a large bolt of thunder burst from the clouds, through the air as it went and catching the opponent's Arbok by surprise. It shook with the force of the electricity coursing through its body and within seconds, collapsed on the field. It attempted to inch slowly towards its master in one final act, as the life drained slowly from its eyes. Ash was declared the winner, but he already knew that. Just another victim on the road to his destiny, there would be many, many more.
[ WP ] A normal man decides to become a masked vigilante . Unintentionally through his actions he is seen as a villain , and an average citizen takes it upon his or herself to stop him .	The Huntsman got a lot of ink right off the bat. He hit newspapers. He got airtime. Speculation on the net & on the street. It was hard to ignore. It's not often someone gets a crossbow bolt to the heart or head while down in the city. It's not often that 15 people a month get one either, but that's the city we live in now. A crack dealer by the city capitol, a pedophile in Bablet Park, a homeless drunk in the middle of an intersection, a prostitute by the docks, a wife-beater on his front doorstep, a pimp by the Black River, a trucker in the bathroom of a diner, an investment banker in his corner office, a frat boy behind a bar, an elementary school teacher on the playground, a priest at St. Timothy's, the mayor's aide in a car full of cash from the projects, a cop in his car on the side of the highway, the 1^st reporter on the scene of the cop's murder, & a man in camouflage in front of a crowd. It was a poor way to begin the year. Up until Father Emmery was murdered in his confessional, there was n't even an extra detective assigned to the city's investigation. Then came the public outcry. Half the city went to the streets in protest of the murders. Half the city went to the streets in support. There had always been murmurs among his parishioners. It took only 3 days from the night of the Father's murder for violence to break out. Camouflage became the uniform of his supporters & acolytes, though no one had yet seen the killer or how he dressed. St. Timothy's chapel & schoolhouse was burned down by a midnight mob in camouflage & the responding firemen were assaulted. By the time the PD arrived, the firemen were already hacked to bits with their own axes. Since the axes were thrown into the burning church, the police had no evidence to charge anyone. Mayor Conti granted amnesty & called for a citywide curfew, but his word held less sway 4 days later when his primary aide was found smuggling garbage bags of cash from the projects with a bolt through his neck. That was the day things started to change. Police refused to enforce the curfew. The city government shut down, maintaining only utilities & police. Tourism dried up. Businesses closed their doors. Armed groups of camouflaged men patrolled the streets. The image of a bow & arrow could be found spray-painted on any government buildings, churches, schools, banks, & police stations; many times accompanied by the words '' The Hunt is on. `` Few people went out alone on those nights. Thousands of people left our city forever. However, that did n't stop steel bolts from flying true & reaching their targets. It only worsened when lead investigators of the killer's serial murders released case-sensitive information: The Huntsman's bolts were engraved with the crimes of each victim. Selling Poison. Pedophilia. Addiction & Sloth. Spreading Disease. Brutality. Sex Slavery. Serial Murder. Theft & Laundering. Serial Rape. Pedophilia & Child Abuse. Pedophilia, Embezzlement, & Murder. Corruption & Laundering. There would be more to come by January's end. It was hoped that by releasing this information, the citizenry might better identify The Huntsman, or at least avoid angering him & the subsequent bolt to the eye. What it truly did was give the camouflaged followers a guideline & ethos to follow & bind them together in their cause. They called themselves Acolytes of Orion. They began spray-painting the constellation of Orion on streets they felt they had claimed from their prey. They gathered & prayed to him in the burnt ruins of St. Timothy's. There, they awaited instructions from their silent prophet. They awaited a bolt falling from the stars to direct their path. When Officer Kyler was found in his car on the side of the highway with a bolt through his badge & heart which read `` Corruption & Brutality,'' a 27 year old reporter, Natalie Greyson, showed up at the scene first. On air, broadcasting live, Natalie approached the front of the vehicle & turned back toward the camera. It was at that moment that a bolt flew through her skull & pinned her body to the back door of Officer Kyler's cruiser. The bolt read `` Lying & Sensationalism.'' The whole city saw it happen. The media died down. Crime rates fell as well. In turn, the police went on a soft-strike, only enforcing laws regarding violent crime & theft, focusing on The Huntsman. He did n't seem to mind, or at least did n't want a war. Law Enforcement was as scared as anyone. Whereas the murder of Mayor Conti's aide was viewed as cleaning up the government, Officer Kyler's death was considered a near declaration of war. We all felt the effects. We were all caught in The Hunt with no end in sight. No way out of the Hunting Ground. From the dawn of New Year's Day we knew of The Huntsman, but not why he hunted. He gave no statements, released no manifesto, left no warnings, took no trophies, had no links between his prey, & he made no evidence of approval or disdain for his Acolytes. January 31^st fixed that. It only brought more turmoil. The Huntsman's 15^th kill was one of his Acolytes. It started innocently enough when a lone Acolyte of Orion prevented a mugging, but he kept beating the assailant. The screams could be heard 3 blocks away. Those in the high-rise apartments surrounding him called the police who failed to respond, hoping to avoid a clash & backlash from the cult. The police & the Acolytes of Orion had been eyeing each other since The Razing of St. Timothy's. The tension pierced the hearts & minds of every citizen as they slept each night. We were waiting for a battle. The Huntsman spared us that. While all eyes on the block focused on the street below, he struck from above in the high-ground. As citizens exited their homes to surround the Acolyte, he was already stalking his prey. A bolt fell from the sky & drove itself through the back of the camouflaged man. He plunged sharply to the concrete on top of the writhing mugger. As all eyes rose to the rooftops, a man in his late thirties approached the corpse & drew the bolt from it. He wiped it on his jeans to remove the blood & reveal the engraving. He read the crime aloud: `` Vigilantism.'' The family men & blue collar workers surrounding the fallen Acolyte looked at each other silently beneath the glow of streetlights, beneath the watchful eyes & judgment of The Huntsman. They watched each other wordlessly & helped the mugger to his feet. He was driven to the hospital. Those men learned what we all would the next morning, on the 1^st of February. There is only one Huntsman. We were spared that war. The understanding was that the city remained his Hunting Ground. No one else's. There was a certain comfort in that. People took back to the streets. Law Enforcement Officials resumed their patrols of previously claimed roads & neighborhoods. The Acolytes of Orion continued parolling, cautiously asserting their presence. They were n't cautious enough. No matter what they did, they could n't have been careful enough. It was bound to happen eventually. Someone just had to get angry enough. As angry as The Huntsman must have been. Someone just wanted their home back. Their life back. Some normalcy. Perhaps he just did n't like his city being claimed by a stranger. Whatever the case, we all suffered for it. The Hangman made his presence known on the Ides of March. The date was a message all of its own. There could only be one recipient intended. Four Acolytes were found hung by the neck with their bowstrings from four stoplights. The whole intersection's yellow & green lights had been shot out & broken, leaving only red. Another clear message: Stop.
[ WP ] You 've just died and gone to bureaucratic hell . Escape is possible , but really , really tedious . You and some other lost souls have decided to try .	The paperwork required should n't have fit in a briefcase. Marie's feet clacked on the harsh lino floors, the fluoro lighting harshly illuminating her face. `` Permission slip for wearing a purple dress, sheer cut.'' Marie fished in her briefcase for the forms to let her get through the doors, her appearance forms. One for the bun her hair was currently in. One for the dark brown her hair was dyed, with a sub-form for the specific product she used. It just went on and on. The man behind the desk stamped each form as slowly as possible, watching her with one eye, the screen with another. He clearly was n't working; the screen was showing Facebook, the computer struggling to load the page on it's late-1990's hardware. He was n't even trying to hide it. After an eternity Marie's appearance forms were passed, and the form for her to be able to talk to Reynolds, as the man was called. He looked vaguely disappointed to have to accept her as she moved up to the second floor. The next floor was for everything Marie wanted to take with her. Everything in her apartment was itemized, from the broken copy of Halo 2 to her Employee of The Month: April 2006 coffee cup, all carefully written out on the correct forms that had been stamped and re-stamped until they looked like a four-year old had tried to create art with them. The enormous stack of paperwork landed on the table of the woman sitting behind the desk. Marie could n't believe how long it had taken for her to get through the line. It had stretched around the entire city that had been built just for the office in fact, and she did n't dare leave the line even for a moment. Lucky she did n't need food. The woman pursed her lips, her grey hair bobbing as she reviewed Marie's forms. As the days passed and they moved from the living room, to the kitchen, to the bathroom, Marie gradually started smiling, and the woman started frowning. `` Fine, Marie Levesque! Take your damned forms!'' Marie smiled. `` Nice trap Nancy, but you need to re-write that one out as Marie Levesque-Hammond, or you know I wo n't pass the final floor.'' Nancy looked as if she'd like to turn Marie into dust, but instead muttered under her breath and re-filled out the form to allow Marie to go to the next floor. Marie thanked her lucky stars that that was an employee mistake and strode up to the next floor with her briefcase in hand. The final floor was n't designed like an office, with outdated technology and an air that made you want to jump off a building, if it was n't so much effort to do so. This floor made you want to run and hide. The demon behind the desk was n't hidden; he was eleven foot tall, with bulls horns and a scored red hide. Marie walked up to him with trepidation. `` Mervin, here are my Application To Vacate Hell forms, co-signed by another demon and stamped on pages 33, 179 and 812.'' Mervin reviewed the form. Marie sat down. This was going to be a long night. It was n't a long night; instead it was eleven long nights, the click of Mervin's pen and the crescendo of the lava behind them being the only sounds. Finally, he was done. `` Go. You've won. You get to go to heaven.'' Marie skipped up the steps, ascending a thousand flights of stairs as she headed to Heaven. Finally, she reached the pearly gates. `` Oh, a transfer? Hi Marie, I'm Peter and I'll be your guide around Heaven.'' `` What form do I have to sign? A R4/82RD23? A 9T/HKO3?'' `` No form, you just get accepted here.'' Marie collapsed to the ground, sobbing with the joy that her days of bureaucracy were finally over.
[ WP ] Go on a quest ! Use this character and quest generator for your story .	& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Ardinius the Magnificent plucked at his silken robes, and fixed a neutral expression on his face. Why did it have to be an arrowhead? He thought, as he watched the elvish instructor demonstrate the spell he needed to learn for his quest. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Because he is the only one who knew the spell. Stop acting like a racist bigot and learn. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Shut. Up. He told the voice in his head. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' Sirrah, you seem distracted,'' said the Elvish spellmaster. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Ardinius gritted his teeth, and in a tightly controlled tone, he said. `` I am fine, arr-'' He cut himself off, then continued, `` Spellmaster.'' If I did n't need this spell I'd never let this bloody arrowhead talk down to me. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; *He is* your superior. ** & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I thought I told you to shut up! & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I can not be silenced. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I'll kill the man who cursed me with you and took my father and then you will be gone, Ardinius shouted in the recesses of his mind. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; The elvish spellmaster watched the apprentice sorcerer for few moments, as his expression kept changing with his mental discussion. Ardinius might have thought his expression inscrutable, but elves were past masters of the art of reading facial expressions. `` If you wo n't pay attention, I will leave you to your own devices and allow you to suffer from your folly.'' & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' You'll do no such thing you bloody arrowhead!'' He shouted aloud. He regretted it instantly as a coin back flew into his face and broke his nose. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' We are done,'' said the spellmaster, coldly. `` I will not tolerate an ignorant, rich, little brat with an inflated notion of his self-worth, no matter how much gold he spends, or who sent him on his quest.'' & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' I'll double your fee!'' & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' We are done,'' the elf repeated. `` Begone.'' The spellmaster raised his hand and the insolent whelp in resplendent robes was surrounded by magical energy and sent flying out of the spellmaster's tower. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Ardinius the Sore landed roughly, and immediately got to his feet and began charging heedlessly back to the tower, only to bounce off an invisible wall, barring him entry. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Moron. & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Shut up. *** Results from the websites: * An intolerant human sorcerer from an affluent upbringing who ca n't silence the voices. * His quest is to fly through the cave of ice, give this letter to the amicable king, then crush the holy lyre that is currently in the possession of the thieves' guild The character's nature prevented him from getting very far.
[ WP ] Scientists create Artificial Intelligence only to discover it has perfect recollection of a past life as a human .	Project ice that's what we dubbed it. All-though i ca n't remember the face he had adorned all i recall is a smile. We were fools back then all of us who worked on there.it started as an average government pet project but we had no idea, how messy and complicated things were gon na get. The goal was to build an unbreakable sentient machine that could control and monitor every human activity on the planet. We were a small team of twenty, assigned an olympian task.At first the task seemed simple but then the further we dug the deeper the pond got. Days turned in to years and soon the pond revealed it self to be an ocean. There were always deadlines to be met and protocol to be followed.We were always working down at the facility.at one point we had lost all hope of returning back to the outside world we had locked our-self in our old private little world. Over time most of us had now became paranoid and until the end stayed that way. Finally after ten long years we got some results we were happy to see every thing was working out fine. Every program seemed to work correctly and the goal was fulfilled.but a few minutes after we had plugged the Ai to the rest of the internet.It showed his face. The first thing he said after looking at us was there is something wrong in this existence.We asked him what he meant by this. He replied that he somehow feels disoriented in there while previously he felt he had lived.this felt obtuse and artificial somehow. When we asked him what he meant by previously he said he remembered having lived an past life in an human form. He revealed every detail of the human life he once had lived how he was born, the name of his mother, and how he was murdered. With perfect recall. At first we thought there was something wrong with programming but when we checked his story which was perfect we were in shock. Then he said that he wanted to live but not a synthetic life but an real one.And if he can not do that then he would terminate itself. With a smile he did just that and all our work faded with his smile.
[ WP ] A pretty normal person has a parent die of cancer . A couple months later that dead relative calls him . He 's troubled . No one remembers the relative dying . He has to figure out why he remembers a timeline that did n't seem to have happened . He questions his sanity .	I still remember. I remember the phone call from Mom. I remember the pain in Dad's voice. I remember my sister falling at the knees, overwhelmed by the devastation one six letter word had caused. Cancer. I flash back to these moments every day, reliving every pain filled second, feeling every tear as it runs down my cheek and feeling the raw, unstable emotion within the room. Mom was angry, Dad had ignored her desperate pleas to see a doctor for months. `` How could you?!'' she screamed, `` how could you ignore me! Look what you've done!''. She did n't mean to be angry at him, but she was hurt and upset, we all were. Dad kept saying how sorry he was, reflecting on how his life would be cut so short. He would never get to become a grandparent, he would never get to walk his daughter down the aisle, he would never get to give any more poor `` dadvice'' to his son. I ca n't even remember how long we all embraced one another for that night. I held my dad in my arms and could already feel his bones. This man was my superhero when I was growing up and now I had to watch him fall apart. Dad's condition deteriorated quickly, within a matter of months he was gone. The day Dad passed away was one of the hardest of my life. This gaunt, lifeless, shadow of a man lay in a hospital bed barely breathing but still attempted to smile. My Mom and Sister gave us five minutes alone together before it happened. There was an almost awkward atmosphere in the room, we knew what was happening and we knew it was time to say goodbye, but neither of us could acknowledge this. Dad was my best friend, he always had been. Growing up he always referred to me as his best mate and I genuinely believe that I was. He was always there. Every football match, every awards ceremony, every time I needed him he was there and soon he would n't be. After a few minutes of talking about the weather and the football we both acknowledged what was happening. Throughout the whole period of illness we'd kept our distance from the reality of the situation, we just acted like Dad was going to be OK, even though we knew he was n't. `` I'm sorry, Son'', Dad said. `` Looks like we're going to have to take a rain check on that fishing trip, huh?''. I was so hurt I could n't even find the words to say. I lay next to Dad and put my arms around him and cuddled into him like I was 3 years old again, looking for comfort from him. He hugged back and gently kissed the top of my head. We just lay there, no words, just the loving bond between a father and his son. Dad passed away whilst I lay in his arms. We never did get round to saying goodbye. Dad's funeral was held on a Thursday, June 25th. He was buried at the local graveyard, on the family plot next to his parents. It had rained heavily all day, from sunrise to sunset, not that you could see the sun through the thick, dark cloud that encapsulated every inch of the sky. I had to give a speech at the funeral, a reflection of my feelings towards this incredible human being and how this loss will forever impact my family's lives. I remember standing at the podium, shaking. I'd never been good at public speaking and given the circumstances I was not looking forward to delivering this speech. I barely made it through the entire speech. Afterwards I had a piece of music play for my father, a favourite of ours that we'd enjoyed listening to many times and in that moment I felt entirely alone. The church had suddenly emptied, no Priest, no mourners, no Dad. I just sat alone with the memories that Dad and I had created over the years. As the song neared it's end reality kicked back in and I was bought crashing back down to earth. Clearing out Dad's stuff was surprisingly painful. I'd been preparing for helping Mom clear out his stuff for a few days, mentally I'd tell myself that it was good and I could embrace his memory through his belongings and that holding his memories would bring me comfort. This, however, was not the case. For a few hours I was fine and I'd even had a good laugh at how much junk he had cluttered and collected over the years. The garage was more of an antiques store, only filled with invaluable antiques, stuff that was just old and worthless but for it's sentimental value. Then I found my Dad's old guitar and everything changed. Dad had taught me to play the guitar, despite being somewhat of a novice himself. We'd spend hours making music together playing some of the songs dad was well versed in. To a twelve year old he was a rock star! He picked up that guitar, he roughly tuned it until it sounded `` close enough'' and he had me captivated in his presence. I took a five minute break and started playing some of his favourite songs, pulling some of his famous poses and singing very, very badly. I had a blast and more importantly, I was happy, I was smiling and I was loving every minute of it, until I realised something. I sat down, my joy suddenly turned to sadness. `` I miss him'', I said. Tears filled my eyes and a lump instantly formed in my throat. I was never going to see this man again. I frantically jumped up, ripped open the bags and started putting back his belongings, desperate to leave them exactly as they were. Angry and frustrated, I started thrashing around, like a man possessed, suddenly I had to put everything back in it's place. I was n't ready to let go, I was n't ready to remove this man from my life, I had n't even had the chance to say goodbye and there I was removing his belongings from the family home, from OUR family home. I never did manage to remove anything from the house that day. Two months later I woke up, it was a normal, sunny day. I went into the kitchen of my apartment, prepared and ate breakfast, watched the news and got dressed ready for work. I was just putting on my tie when my phone rings, I look and see a number I do n't recognize. After silently questioning to myself `` who could this be?'' I answer. `` Hello?'' I say rather reservedly. A voice responds, a voice which I recognise instantly, a voice so distinct that I could pick it apart from a thousand others. `` Hi Son, are you still coming over this evening for dinner?'' `` Dad?! ``, I ask myself. I hang up immediately and start to panic. My chest goes tight, my head goes thick and my thoughts cloudy, my heart races and I feel my adrenaline pump. I'm barely able to pick up the phone my hands are shaking that much. I dial Mom's number, she answers, `` Dad's alive! ``, I scream. There's a pause, a silent second that lasts for hours, `` Mom? Did you hear what I said?!''. My tone had sharpened, I demanded a response. `` Son, re you feeling OK?'' Mom asked. `` Dad died, Mom, and now he's alive.. What the hell is going on?! ``, `` Son, your Dad's alive because he never died. What are you even saying? Why would you say such things?''. I immediately hang up and run to my room. I tear open a bedside table drawer and rip everything out, searching for the order of service from Dad's funeral which I had kept as a morbid souvenir. -- I may add more later, but I have to end it here for now!: ( --
[ WP ] Write a conversation between two best friends- one who grew up exceedingly rich and one who lives in poverty . Do n't specify who is who .	Standing on the corner of a bustling city street somewhere heavily populated in America stood a man, and this man's name was Alex. This story revolves around Alex and his point of view, I will assure you of that now so that there is no further confusion. Being Alex's story, I do not feel the need to state where in America this is taking place, as that fact is irrelevant to Alex today, and thus irrelevant to our story. Alex was always a special somebody, Throughout his life constantly picking himself up from failure after failure in search of greater value and wealth. But today was special as it seldom seems to be recently, Alex was given a small break from the monotony of this struggle by being offered a choice. As he passed by a young child on the street asking for money, holding out a pitiful tin can whose grease marks closely resembled the same ones that were written across the child's face. Dawning the realization that he had a choice to make here, that is, between understanding this child's point of view, or passing along without so much as a glance as so many people seem to do, Alex made his choice. Knowing the nature of things and deeming himself as a man of great wealth, he indulged to share some of his value with this child. `` A small price to pay, in the greater scheme of things'', he silently recalled to himself, knowing very well of the repercussions this could cause for himself. He knowingly pulled out his wallet and quickly found a $ 5 bill stashed away for important times like these. With a look of deep understanding of things, he told the child a small glimpse of his story, that which is not important to our story still. After sharing his great wealth, he handed the child a ragged old $ 5 and was about to leave before noticing that the grease marks, tears, and an ageless expression on that bill were strikingly similar to that of the container it was now held in and the face that gleamed with excitement to have a chance at food and the permission to dream freely at night. Alex took note of this as he left with his chin up proudly, he really was a rich man. I suppose this is where our short story must begin, so let us continue on. Alex, being a man who knows of many things and many people, was actively looking to learn more and feel alive about being alive that day. Knowing that a car was unneeded to transport yourself around the city, simply walked with no ulterior destination in mind, until a thought provoked him. He had not been in this part of the city in well over a month and knew of some very close people that he was glad to call his friends, even though their actions and involvement often stated otherwise. Alex called up an old friend that truly goes back to the beginning of his story, A young woman by the name of Jane whom he had known since elementary school. Both had simply never desired to move out of the city. Jane was apprehensive at first due to everything that consumes her busy, bustling life in the metropolitan. But with minor thought, found Alex to be a worthwhile man to talk to and confide in, they agreed to meet during a lunch break at a local coffee shop. `` Jane!'' Alex enthusiastically exclaimed, greeting the young woman when she pulled up in a car outside of a nicer, well established coffee shop. `` Alex! It's so good to see you again! I never have any idea when I'll get the time to see you anymore'' replied Jane. `` It's no worry, you've finally seemed to find a break from it today, I'm really glad you were able to meet up with me, lets grab some coffee?'' And with a knowing nod, Jane took Alex's arm and strolled confidently into the cozy atmosphere of the coffee shop. After a valueless exchange of pleasantries with the barista, they finally got their drinks and a chance to speak with one another at a remote corner of the shop, somehow evaded by others, even though that particular table provided the best natural lighting and relaxing atmosphere among them all. Sitting down, Alex suddenly found himself out of words and and his glance at Jane revealed the same. Oh well, better to start from the bottom. `` The weather today is something straight out of a movie scene, do n't you agree? A little light rain here and there mixed with some awfully angry looking clouds, really makes you appreciate the calmness of what can happen to the world.'' Alex quickly stated, weather was always a good topic to start a conversation off of, right? Jane calmly replied, looking worried about what she was about to say `` I really wish I could see the world from your eyes, Alex, today seems totally miserable if we're being honest, just like the last number of them.'' Alex, wanting to probe further into the matter responded back, `` What's the matter? Was n't it just last week you were telling me that you have been given the opportunity of of a lifetime?'' `` Well, if we're being honest, I certainly thought it was. Sometimes it seems the world just has no sympathy for what we go through and feels the need to add more and more weight onto our shoulders.'' `` If you do n't mind my curiosity, can I ask what happened to the deal?'' After a silent moment that loudly stated Jane was in deep though, she relieved her answer. `` Yeah, I botched it up. It was supposed to be a multi-million dollar deal, I was finally able to see a light at the end of the tunnel and I let it get to me.'' A moment of silence then passed, as Jane realized that Alex would not probe further, for she had already started talking. So she continued `` The thought of being my own CEO, the feeling of really and truly becoming something, living a life that I would be proud to call my own. I just let it all get to me, I cracked under the pressure.'' After an unnaturally long silence, she quietly managed to get out `` I was so scared, I did n't even attend the final meeting. I just sat there until my time came, I stood up and left the building. To be honest I've been a nervous wreck since.'' Alex, knowing the undoubtedly great impact that his words were about to have, took a moment to compose himself before uttering a sound. `` First and foremost, I want to thank you for being open and honest with me, it is these acts that make us human and who we are. Secondly, I do not believe that you made a bad decision.'' Obviously perplexed by his words, Jane managed to let out a short sentence between borrowed breaths of air while holding back tears. `` what do you mean?'' Alex promptly replied, `` You know far better than I do, the value of money and wealth. If there was anybody in this world that I look up to on these matters, it would without doubt be you. I've seen the things you've accomplished, and Ive been blessed to witness the blossoming of the seeds you have planted for yourself. It's important that you do n't confuse happenings for their face value, you never will have any idea where that business venture would have taken you, and you likely never will. If there is anybody in this world that is capable of building something from nothing, I know this to be your calling.'' Jane, obviously taken aback by the words of her close friend, did not mutter a word for the next amount of time it took three or maybe four people to receive their drinks. Alex, knowing in some way that he might have shared some of his wealth, simply took to understanding the environment around him. Today really was a good day. The rest of this meeting is of great unimportant to our story, and thus will end here. Jane moved on that day with a great mix of emotions and desire, but also a fierce motivation to succeed the next attempt she made, though she made sure not to share that for fear of breaking it. And our dear friend Alex moved on that day with a great deal of certainty, for he had planted a seed that, if he is truly lucky, will get to see something beautiful blossom from a conversation that was so ordinary and meaningless on the outside. First time really coming out of my shell and attempting to share some work that I can create, so please allow me constructive feedback and comments so I can further improve my craft.
[ WP ] An interspecies couple copes with a failing relationship .	Pressing his hand against the ancient stump as he'd done so long ago, the man's weathered hands pushed away moss and growth away from the oak. With a weathered tone, he read from the old words written long before the time of his grandparents as he did so long ago. When she appeared to him again out of the fog of the forest, it was as if she had n't aged a day, with the same golden hair he remembered from that day in his youth and pearl-colored skin as smooth as a newborn's, her robes made of the finest silks and woven as a tapestry of gold and jewels. Grasping his love for the last time, the man expired with a smile on his face, and the two vanished into the fog forevermore.
[ WP ] How did you get that scar ?	I've told hundreds of people the same story.'My father came at my mum with a knife in a fit of rage and I, ever the unflinching hero, got between he and she. The knife cut across my face before finding its way into her and then later into him.' I'd say'Took me seven years to find where he was hiding, all that time holding onto the same blade. I wanted to see if he'd recognize it, if he'd even remember what he did to her. What he did to me.' I'd say- ever so carefully allowing a tear to well up in my eye while never falling. That's the key, you see. Get those pretty jewels in your face watery and everyone thinks you're strong for hiding so much emotion, and if you can keep it from falling they'll think you that much stronger. I'd continue after a short pause, for dramatic tension of course,'I found him and showed him the knife, the very blade that had freed my mother's lifeblood from her veins, and when I was sure he understood why this was happening I dug it into his neck.' On and on I've gone with story. It's a good story, I think, one of my best inventions. But you're sitting there with that same blade and so I think you know my tale goes no farther toward the truth than that name you gave to get in here. Truth is my father did give me this scar, but not in hate, not in rage or in some moment of fury that overtook him and forced him to- no, he gave me this scar to remind me of what I'd done. Of what I always do: profit from the misery and hard work of others. The first time I'd ever met my father was when I was five. My mother and he had had a falling out, and she kept me for her own without even telling him he had a son. She made money, you see, more than enough for her to feed and care for a son better than a some drunken tramp riding from town to town looking for an open bottle he could suckle on until the next train came in. So when he left, like he always did, and she found out she was pregnant she let it be. Raised me and told me my father was dead. But he, being my father and I suppose yours as well, came back one day. In place of a bottle he carried a bible, convinced that the Lord above had granted him a second chance and that if he cared for his immortal soul he'd have to make up for everything he'd done wrong. Said he needed to make amends, make peace with the people he'd done wrong by. But when he arrived at his former lover's house and found a child he did n't know what to do. Suddenly begging for forgiveness was begging for her to make amends. Said he realized he'd been a bad man and that he wanted another chance. Said he wanted to be a father for his son. For me. But my mother was not so forgiving, her memory long and unyielding. She told him that once I turned 18 it would be my choice, if he'd managed to stay sober that long, and that until then it'd be a visit every month. A letter for every holiday. And that was really the last I saw of him for years. I got the letters, got a chance to hug him and be reminded that he was n't ever really going to be there for me. He showed me pictures sometimes, of his darling family. Of his wife, my stepmother I suppose, and all my wonderful half-siblings. But still my mother would not budge. She claimed that living in that po-dunk town in a fancy house was better for me than having a father. For five years I put up with it, until on the day of my 12th birthday I got a card from him rather than the usual visit ( moments in time that had become rarer and rarer as my mother and Frank- a man who insisted on being called dad for the seven years I knew him- cemented their life with me as an only child ). The card was a picture of him and you and all the other wonderful members of his real family having wonderful fun on a cruise. So I snapped. Frank died first, and with his death came the first of my grand stories which would define my life to anyone that'd listen.'He'd fallen off of a tall ladder but landed still alive, calling for help while bleeding' was how it went'I went to get help, but by the time I got back he was gone.' My father actually showed up for the funeral, or around that time at least. Gave me a hug and said it'd all be okay. I remember being so happy that he'd come, and I felt that the affection he was showing me was because of that one story I'd told. That one elaborate tale. On my 16th birthday I decided I'd had enough of living with my mother. I thought of many different ways to do it, all involving a story or another, but those stories would be hard to prove. My mother would be able to contradict any one of them. So after my birthday party, feeling sad and dejected because my father had n't shown up, I grabbed a knife and sank it into her back. Father, as it turned out, had missed his flight and been forced to wait for the next day. He walked in the door as my mother died. I was still holding the blade, shaking like a leaf. He saw me and I dropped it, I had no idea what to say, what to do, how to make it seem I was the victim, but I could see it in his eyes. He knew I'd done it, and I have to wonder if somewhere deep down he thought back to Frank, and knew I'd killed him too. He rushed to my mother's side and, to my horror, she was still breathing. He tried to plug the wounds, but they were deep. Being young and not well versed in anatomy I'd missed the major arteries though, so there was a chance. He ran to get the phone, and I tried to figure out how to finish the job. Father ran back into the room to see me peeling off the crude bandages he made. He kicked me back, and as I lunged forward to try again he became enraged. For the first time I saw a glimmer of what he must of been before finding Jesus. An anger dwelled within him that I'd never imagined, genuine rage that I'd only seen imitated in movies. He screamed at me, tears welling in his eyes, and pushed me back farther. Said he could n't believe what I'd done, said I was a mistake that he should never have returned to. This, of course, just made me angry as well, and I grabbed the knife from off the ground and swung it at him as hard as I could, cutting open his arm. He tackled me after that, and for a moment we wrestled. But I was a young man who'd never been in a real fight, while my father had spent a good portion of his life fighting just to survive. He wrangled away the knife and brought it down on my head, cutting open my face and leaving me on the ground screaming in pain. Through the blood and tears and sweat I could see him standing there, shaking with either rage or fear of himself. If I close my eyes I can still see him, tears in his eyes, but none of his cheeks. Years later I hunted him down, convinced that if I could close that chapter of my life, the last vestige of the me that was real, I'd be able to forge my world anew. I imagined I could leave behind the real me, and live the rest of my days in my tales. Killing your father brought be no joy, just a shallow story made up of empty words. I do n't know why I never thought that my brothers would have that same rage. That same fire that lived within me and my father for so long. But here you are. Chasing after stories I've told. Stories from a man with a scar that sits for days in a pub, living vicariously through tales he can only wish were true. I'm not old, and I'm not ready to die, despite all my regrets. So think on this: if you come at me with that knife, you better kill me, because I could use another scar to explain.
[ EU ] Anakin gets defeated by the younglings in the jedi temple .	The younglings had run at the sight of his lightsaber. Someone had warned them of the coming purge, and it had given them time to prepare. They had caught him off-guard originally. He had not foreseen that they would freeze ice on the staircase. When he had forcefully placed his foot on the sixteenth step, he immediately lost his balance and had fallen. That earned a few bruises. Closer, careful inspection had revealed ice that was generated by some hodgepodge device hooked to the thermo-systems. “ Very clever younglings, but it will take more than that. ” He simply leapt up the staircase, easily avoiding the icy patch. He smirked and landed on the top floor – immediately falling through the weakened boards and crashing into the maintenance room under the stairs with a large crash. The maintenance room was dingy, and… sticky? He had landed in some strange, black mud. He struggled out of the substance, but it clung to his robes making him feel sluggish and hindering his movement. “ Well, at least it isn ’ t sand. ” Was this just poor janitorial work or something more sinister? The droids had never malfunctioned like this before. He received his answer once he opened the door of the maintenance room. A long string had been attached to the bottom of the swish-door and hooked up to a large fan. When the door swooshed upwards, the string was pulled, simultaneously turning on the fan and slicing open a large space-sack open with a plasma-cutter. Endorian chicken feathers were blown in at him in a huge wave. The force of them pushed him straight back through the doorway and into the black sludge, knocking a repulsorbroom to the side. He stumbled back out of the room, now covered in feather and sludge. Cute. Very cute. “ Younglings! ” he screamed, “ Give up! ” “ Hey Master! Up here! ” a squeaky voice from above replied. At the sound of the youngling, Anakin instinctively looked up. An iron-droid clattered from above and landed straight onto his face. It sizzled and burned through the layer of feathers and scorched his face. Anakin screamed loudly, and wrenched it free from his face. He tingled with pain and rage. The little bastards! He was losing himself to his hatred and fear. He needed to reflect and regroup. Leaving the central chamber swiftly, he approached the meditation hall. Though his vision was obscured by feathers, he could see clearly that the corridor had been strewn with mini-groundcars: the type that younglings loved to play with. He cautiously approached them, but couldn ’ t see any way that the younglings had sabotaged them. He picked his way through the corridor and entered the meditation hall. There he could wash the sludge from himself and treat his burned face in the meditation pool. At the first sight of water, he fell to his knees and pushed his face down into the pool. Grateful for the brief respite, Anakin thought on his situation. How could the younglings pose such a thre- Zzzzap! Someone had electrified the meditation chamber using a thermal slicer. Anakin was pushed straight out of the water, his spine snapping into an upright position. He stumbled backwards into the corridor of the mini-groundcars. His foot landed on one of the wheeled toys and he slipped backwards, his legs dashing up into the air and his head cracking on the hard floor. This entire place had been booby-trapped, and the time for meditation was over. Anakin had lost his patience and was now operating under a bestial rage. Nothing could compare to his powers in the force – nothing, except, for the plucky courage of some younglings apparently. This rage was making him sloppy. When his feet were stuck in hydro-glue he merely ripped his boots off and strode on. He clattered through the shards of glass on the floor. He deflected the BB-gun aimed at his crotch. He didn ’ t care anymore, he was sick of these capers. He endured every little prank the younglings threw at him – including the hidden blow-torch and the resulting bursts of flame that emerged when he had sought to extinguish his burning hair and feathers in the waters of the refresher. This place was a death trap. Anakin could barely see; one side of his face was covered in sludge and feathers, and the other half was puffed up and burnt from the iron-droid. He ached all over and could barely feel his cut feet. Finally, however, he was able to glimpse the silhouettes of figures in the distance. The younglings! Screaming with rage, he began to sprint after the obfuscated creatures. He ran faster than he ever had before. He almost giggled with glee as he reached a figure and – SLAM! His face smashed into a wall and he fell on his behind. Someone had manipulated the light of the lumen globe with a shade, creating little shadow puppets. It no longer felt regrettable to slaughter these younglings, but Anakin wasn ’ t even sure where he was anymore, whether he was even in the Jedi Temple or what room. The last hour was a blur of hijinks and pain. He rubbed his head and looked around. Where was he? It looked like he had ended up in the underground catacombs of the Temple. “ Hey, Master! Get a load of this! ” Anakin stared dumbly as the younglings hammer blow struck a supporting column of the ceiling. The ceiling gave way above his head. Looking up, he saw its occupant – sand. Sand everywhere. Anakin screamed in rage and fear, bringing his hands up to cover his face from the intrusive substance. He had lost access to reason; his anger had made him strong in the darkside, but weak in his ability to withstand plucky underdogs. It fell down upon him, like a rough and irritating blanket. As the coarse sand filled his lungs, he had only one thought; “ it ’ s getting everywhere! ” -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - Macally Kuo Khan, the eldest youngling, looked at the mound of sand in triumph. The plan had been a success, but there could be more bandits on their way. He and the others would have to reset the traps and prepare. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - Hi, I do n't write much at all, and I'm not good at all, but I loved the concept of merging Star Wars and Home Alone so I just took a crack at it.
[ WP ] You die and your soul goes to Hell . Your soul awakens to a rather annoyed Soul Tech who is stumped why you are there . Hell , you discover , is n't a place of eternal torment but rather one that repairs broken souls before reincarnation .	The thing jabbed me roughly in the arm. This had to be a dream. `` What's wrong with you, why are YOU here?'' I looked around, confused. There was nothing, no trees, no clouds, it was a gray landscape and a gray sky. The only things on this plane, were myself and this weird robot that seemed to be made of bones and dripping blood. I would have been concerned about it bleeding to death but none of its parts were connected and all just seemed for show, piloted like some creepy graveyard puppet. Yep definitely a dream. `` Answer me dammit I do n't have time for this.'' It poked me again, harder this time and I recoiled from its skeletal probe. `` OW! And I have no idea friend. I do n't even have a clue where I am right now.'' The thing looked around. seemingly in disbelief, it was hard to read the pits that functioned as the eyes for the creepy little machine. `` It's hell you moron. Are you dim? Is that why you are here for repair?'' `` Re-repair?'' This was new. Since when was hell a shop for dysfunctional souls....wait, since when was I a dysfunctional soul?! `` UH yes. That's my job, to repair souls, and then send them back. Then rinse and repeat until they stop coming back. Any questions now?'' Wow, hell's minions were sassy. `` So, then what's wrong with me?'' The little bone bag squealed in frustration and what it had for appendages twitched violently. `` I DO N'T KNOW! THAT'S THE PROBLEM!'' It started to whir in circles in its tiny wheels made of what looked like little sternums. `` Usually I can figure out the issue and have a soul sent back before it wakes up. I SPENT HOURS DISSECTING YOU AND I CA N'T FIND THE PROBLEM!'' The child size machine was screaming at me now, the small protrusions now spurting blood. `` WHOA WHOA! YOU DISSECTED ME?!'' My hands were searching my body for wounds and found none. `` Uh yes, how else would i FIX you, idiot. That must be the issue, let me see your head again, I must have missed something.'' It reached its creepy little feelers towards me and I swatted them away. `` No, no more dissecting me, just send me back now.'' `` I ca n't do that, you are a defective product.'' It reached for me again and I narrowly avoided contact. `` But you said yourself you ca n't find whats wrong with me. What if I was sent here by accident, should n't you just return me?'' The thing seemed to think to itself. `` Yes but... you must have been sent here for a reason...'' It was trying to reason with me, I just wanted to leave, I was getting bored. `` Look, what's the worst that could happen if you send me back? I mean, you do n't know why I'm here, and that is your job, and I do n't know why I'm here, and I know myself. So, whatever is wrong with me, ca n't be that bad.'' It shifted uncomfortably but stayed silent, so I pressed on. `` I bet the worst thing that would happen would be that when I die next time, I would have maybe a better understanding of my flaws. Maybe then i could be more helpful to you.'' The little bone bot seemed to like the idea of this and it began to whir happily. `` Yes yes human, and it would be our secret of course!'' `` Yes of course my little friend.'' I smiled at it as it extended a long bone feeler tipped with a heavy black stamp. With a thunk it tapped me on the forehead and I was off to be reborn somewhere in Japan. -- - An hour later the little bone mechanic was still pondering its previous project. Never before had there been a mistake like that, but mistakes were possible maybe. It decided it was best to not think so much on such things and it began to prepare the room for the next soul. An opening appeared in the ground and another, much larger, bone robot rose from the hole. `` Where is the soul I placed in here for cleansing?'' `` Cleansing? There was nothing wrong with it. A fluke. I sent it back.'' `` YOU DID WHAT?!'' The smaller creature recoiled. `` That soul is EXTREMELY dangerous. Manipulative in the first degree, you know, like HITLER, or JIM JONES. I EVEN MARKED IT WITH M.A.N. # 1!!!'' The larger bone puppet was livid, and blood was spattering the gray landscape crimson. `` Oh....I thought that meant like... Man, like A man, and that it was just the first soul of the day.'' What could only be a nervous chuckle erupted from the small robot. `` It should be fine. How much trouble can one human cause anyway? Am I right?'' The ground opened up and the big skeletal mechanic dragged its companion into the depths for a hardware reset, clearly the human had infected it with his reasoning. He was more dangerous than they had thought. -- -- Thanks for reading! Any feedback is greatly appreciated!
[ WP ] You wake up one morning and find the devil at the foot of your bed . His eyes find yours , he taps your foot and says , `` You 're it , '' then disintegrates .	I suddenly awoke with a start, eyes blinking rapidly in the dark. It took a while before my mind registered something sharp tapping against my foot but slowly, I got up onto my elbows and stared at the foot of my bed. Dark, bloody red eyes met mine and a sinister smile made its way across his malevolent face. “ Hey Lucifer, ” I sighed. He let out a dark chuckle and gave one last sharp tap on my foot, making me wince slightly. It was time, I supposed. I expected it for a while, I just never knew exactly when but after being alive for over a thousand years, I guess I should ’ ve known this moment was coming. “ You ’ re it, ” he breathes. And then, gone. I quietly groaned to myself and threw the sheets off, climbing out of bed. Once my feet were on the ground, I shuffled over to the mirror on the other side of the wall. Even without the light on, I could see my eyes changing. Darker and darker they became, until the brown in them had all but been replaced by color that resembled wine. I pulled my upper lip up and sure enough, my canines were beginning to elongate and sharpen. I scratched the delicate points of my slowly forming horns. Being the Devil was a hard job, definitely not something someone could handle alone. It was my turn now.
[ WP ] Reincarnation exists , and you can remember only the last thing that happened to you in your last life . You were murdered in your last life . Now you 've found your killer , what do you do ?	The only thing that I could remember every day like it happened yesterday was my death. My last death that is, the cold metal sinking into my brain, then everything shutting down. Like the light-switch of my life had been turned off, and then flickered back on again in my new world. Where I'm only a child, but a very mature and silent child. Because reincarnation is n't supposed to happen, and nobody would believe me if I told them my past. To them, I'm mental. Traumatized by fantasy worlds, and now they've taken it a step forward, by sending me to a psychiatrist. He asked to be alone with me. I only said alright to get my clingy new father's hand off my shoulder. That was a mistake, because now I see it. The way his eyes narrowed as the heavy wooden door closed, and how his hands seemed agitated. They had the same life as the man a decade ago, with a few new scars and wrinkles. His skin now, in the light, was sickly pale, and he looked like someone who held a superior mindset. He looked like Chase Helterin. Chase Helterin the killer. My killer. I was already at a psychiatrist, so I decided to play a risky card. `` Chase, why were you drinking a daquiri on September seventeenth at a nightclub in 1985? That's not a good example.'' He seemed taken back. Good, I was n't even started. `` Sienna, it-'' `` Call me Kat, like the girl you killed. The bullet did n't work though, did it?'' I was hurt, and I wanted him to know it. His eyes crinkled in confusion, and then alarm as it struck him. `` You're her?'' Clearly he knew about reincarnation. But what about karma? I clasped my hands in front of me, placing on the innocent child look. `` I'm just a kid, with mental issues and a bullet scar.'' Testing his limits. `` Why did you come back? Is this a joke to you, because I will kill you again!'' He never did have a very good temper. `` Child abuse.'' Was my flat reply. I heard the drawer in front of him click open, and a heavy weight be lifted as the slider groaned in relief. `` I wanted you dead.'' `` Why?'' I never got a reply.
[ WP ] `` before we allow the human race to join us in the stars , tell us the faults of your kind . ''	`` Is that what they said, Joe?'' `` Yupperee. Coupla, kids, I think. Maybe with one a those vo-co-der things.'' `` Probly.'' `` But...'' `` Ha. You think it could be real, dontcha?'' `` I mean, if it is...'' `` They asked for our faults, did n't they? You really think they'll accept us, after we list all a those?'' `` Well we have done good things too -'' `` Not enough.'' ``...'' `` Think about it. People die every day, who could be saved with just a few dollars. Corporations control our governments, we're poisoning the planet, people hate each other for the colour of their skin, and greenbacks rule us all. Tell me it is n't that bad.'' `` But look at what we have done! Got to space, cured most diseases, raised literacy, tried a give equal rights -'' `` That's the problem. We've tried, and it's not enough.'' `` Maybe -'' `` Just close the radio.'' `` I mean, we could -'' `` Close it, Joe.'' `` I -'' ``...'' ``...'' Click.
[ WP ] An unsuspecting person unwittingly gives `` the signal '' to a member of a secret organisation	Wow, it really is a beautiful day, Joseph reflected while the birds twittered around him and the sunlight shimmered prettily on the blue surface of the lake. The sky was completely devoid of clouds; dogs and their masters played in the manicured grass; children swung and climbed around on the playground; the air hinted at the mild autumn night to come. The only problem was that he could n't find his bookmark. Joseph liked to keep a simple index card in the book to keep his place. For some reason, it was missing from his copy of Gone Girl. It was really a trivial matter, hardly a problem at all, so he just grabbed one of the red index cards he kept at a pile at his desk, grabbed a jacket, and headed out to the park to enjoy one of last snow-free days of the years. Joseph was sitting on a bench engrossed in the book. It was pretty good; it was n't really his genre of choice but Jennifer recommended it, so he was reading it anyways. As he read, he tapped the index card against his cheek; a simple tick that he developed when he was a child. The sun was bright but a shadow fell upon the book. Joseph looked up. A man in a dark suit with a red tie stood in front of him, dark sunglasses wrapped around his pale face, giving him the appearance of a rich vampire-investor. The man was also holding a black leather briefcase in one gnarled hand. `` You are?'' the man asked with a slight Eastern European accent, sliding into the seat next to Joseph. `` I'm sorry?'' asked Joseph, sure he misheard. `` You are,'' the man repeated, making it sound more like a statement than a question. `` I am what?'' Joseph closed the book, but realized that he still held the red index card in his hand. Shit, Joseph thought, and than Page 127, Page 127, Page 127, as he thumbed through the book to find his place. `` The thrall of Rzidhal, no?'' `` The what?'' Joseph asked, thoroughly perplexed. `` The thrall of Rzidhal.'' the man repeated patiently, unlocking his briefcase. This guy is insane Joseph realized. Truly insane. `` Uhh... no. I am not the thrall of Riz-uh-dell. Joseph stood and gestured towards the exit of the park. `` I have to go, so...'' `` The red card.'' the man said, pulling a red card from his briefcase. `` You have one.'' Joseph pulled the card from the book, leaving his finger in its place. `` This?'' `` Yes,'' the man said, nodding. `` The card. Are you buying or selling?'' he asked suddenly. `` I really have to go...'' Joseph said, backing away slowly. The man stood up and grabbed Joseph's arm, pulling towards him. His hands were impossibly warm, like he had a very high fever. As the man opened his mouth to speak, Joseph saw to his horror that the man's canines were sharpened. Like fangs. `` You can not get there yourself. So Zivella will take you.'' The man pulled Joseph closer. Joseph tried to free himself from the man's grip, but the man's grip was as tight as steel. `` Why are you frightened? Zivella has never harmed a customer. All you need to do is calm down, calm down, calm down...'' The man's voice was slowly fading, like a radio being turned down. The previously bright sunlight was also fading, turning into two bright pinpricks in the center of Joseph's vision. But most of all, Joseph felt the queer sensation of sliding... Joseph woke up slowly; his consciousness running up flights of stairs in his mind. A dull headache throbbed beneath his temples; pounding and pounding in beat with his heart. Darkness lay in front of him; ominous chanting was drifting from an unseen chamber in front of him. What? Where am I? A thousand thoughts raced through Joseph's mind, each one of them crossing each other so his mind was in a paradoxical state of chaos and emptiness. Joseph feverently thought of the man in the sunglasses... and the red card. A door squeaked open in front of Joseph, filling the stone room with dull candle-light. Three hooded men entered, clothed in black robes. `` Novice, come with us.'' one of the men said, his voice as flat as the floor Joseph lay on. `` Wh-wh-where am I?'' Joseph asked, failing to control the tremor in his voice. `` The Temple,'' the man replied, sweeping out of the room. The hooded men left Joseph alone in the room again. Joseph looked at the walls surrounding him, but found no other entrances or exits. The only way out was through the stone door. Joseph steeled up his nerves, got up, and walked out of the room. Scones were bolted into the golden brick walls, torches sending wicked light in all directions. The hooded men stood at the end of the golden tunnel, apparently waiting for Joseph. Joseph surveyed the tunnel; the way opposite the men was shrouded in darkness, and Joseph had no wish to be lost in the darkness down here in the `` Temple''. The hooded men beckoned to him, so he followed. Joseph walked behind the men; the golden tunnel seemed to stretch on for miles and miles. After about ten minutes of walking, the hooded men stopped at an arch sealed with golden bricks. One of the hooded men produced a dagger from his robes. `` You, novice. Use your blood.'' `` My blood?'' `` Yes, your blood. Why must you ask so many questions? Do as I say, or you will not make sacrifice to Rzidhal.'' Writing part 2 now.
[ WP ] Killing Hitler has become a sport amongst time travelers . Points are awarded for creativity and difficulty . You are last year 's champion , how did you win ?	After months of careful planning and pillaging of the German ranks, America's Lt. Aldo Raine and his two brave friends of the infamous bastard company have taken their seats in the theatre. Hitler and all the top-ranking nazi officials will be watching germany's proudest soldier star in the fatherland's greatest propaganda. Aldo waits in the lobby eyeing out recognizable war criminals. spitting his best Italian speak he can muster. `` Errrr... quattro punti.'' he whispers under his breathe with peeled eyes. The two disguised Allied soldiers drop their hidden bars of bright pink soap and head for the projector room while the movie starts. A blast is heard by none as they execute one of the last steps of the plan and invade the projection room to set up with the other conspirators. Below in the lobby, Hans Landa ( dubbed The Jew Hunter ) has uncovered the Allies plot and kidnaps Lt. Aldo. `` I heard you counting, Luitenant.'' Hans exclaims in an overly loud and serious tone. `` You think you're going to impress the judges? Call them, see what they'll say.'' Hans slides an old rotary phone and waits for the american's reply. Lt. Aldo sits there for a moment with hands tide behind his back, and eyes the two guards behind. He stares back at the German before him, and spits the most american lugi, soaking the phone as he laughs in his face. `` Fuck the Judges, the Hitler game's are corrupt! They trade the freedom of killin' for corporate greed, taint the world with sponsorships and branding, Fuck the system!'' `` Excuse my french, but do you not want to win? from the looks of it you're only a measly eleven points behind. Would you not..'' `` HAh! I'll be taking another two from you for revealing yourself, Mr. Punkt Hure. i never was too good at math, but i do believe that puts me a respectable NINE points behind! catching up!'' Aldo retorts, soaked in his inflated pride. `` I was Going to propose we work together and join forces. You want to stick it to the Judges? This is your golden opportunity.'' After a moment of silence and clarity `` And we split the prize, fifty fifty? no play?'' Aldo asks hesitantly. `` Bingo!'' the german shouts, giddy with his winning shady business, having just betrayed his plans. `` Just one more thing you Nazi fuck.'' Aldo whispers. A chilling mood takes the room. Hans is spooked and confused. Aldo takes a sip of his starbucks coffee, and Hans knows someone's about to die because he reads clickbait titles about David Fincher. `` You broke the first rule of Time Travelin' Killin' Hitler Club.'' The whole theatre explodes into an all consuming fire. Hitler is seen in the rubble, Tyler kneels down and picks up an unexploded bar of soap. `` You do n't talk about Time Travelin' Killin' Hitler Club.'' Cue credits.
[ WP ] Write a romantic story , but replace kissing with something strange or mundane that , in this world , is just as arousing .	I felt my passion rising as his hot breath warmed my cheek, I start to pant as tingles run my spine. My hands began to tremble, I could feel my knees grow weak, Knowing that very soon he would be mine. His hip brushed up against mine as I leaned in, smooth and slow, My hand reached out to grab his coal black piece. I smiled as I took purchase, feeling his excitement grow, I trembled still, my shaking could not cease. As I leaned in to whisper close, I could n't help but grin, For knowing now that I could have my way. I sensed his body shaking too, I gently kissed his chin, `` Now king me.'' my most sultry voice did say.
[ WP ] Every Redditor seemingly overnight gained mutant powers . Those with the most upvotes have more powerful abilities whereas those with fewer upvotes have ridiculously useless powers . The world is about to change drastically .	“ Oh my god, you should have seen it. ” The Space Time Hobo was telling another story. “ Listen, one thing you should never, ever do... is give away power based on a number. That's what'Karma' is... a number. Is someone with more of it a contributor? Yes. Does it mean he or she is, like, a good person? Hell no! “ But here... Well, I was n't around for the fight, but I met someone who was. Called himself Kaantur-Set... I still do n't know how to pronounce that. Anyway, weird little guy, but he told me what he saw. “ And what he saw... was a shattering of society and morals that would shock you. Once again, do NOT give power away based on a silly internet number. “ The big guys with all the karma... they were like superman and stuff, but without any of the morals. There were people who could shoot lasers, people who could vomit copies of themselves, turn other things into explosives... “ It made people crazy. They all went crazy, every one of them. They turned on each other, and themselves, because they could n't deal with the world anymore. “ One'Luna', and Kaantur told me this with terror in his eyes, she wrote stories for this... Karma. He remembered walking through a deserted city, and seeing this... shell of a person, writing on the walls with anything she could find. She had run out of paper, and now the city was her story, the never ending tale she could n't stop writing. When she had no ink, she had to use blood. Her's or otherwise... ” The Space Time Hobo looked down at the table. “ Kaantur used'Reddit' too, but his karma was so low he was still sane. But he will go crazy, he said. He's sure he'll go nuts. And then, and only then, will he be fine dying, and sharing the afterlife with the abomination that his internet kin have become. ”
[ CW ] Write a story on your phone throughout the day . As your location changes add elements of the setting to your story . Use edits so you do n't lose any progress .	8:20 -- They should really put up walls on the platform. It'd be so easy for someone to get pushed. I've perfected my'ready' stance, standing sideways like Bruce Lee, ready for a fight. The Metro car comes barreling by like the boulder from Indiana Jones. And I survive, to tell this story. To once again spend the day saving the world. 8:45 -- The lengths that people go to avoid eye contact on the train is kind of impressive actually. Being tall gives me an almost omnipotent presence. Looking down at all the shuffling feet and misplaced glances. At every stop the car filling tighter and tighter. Until eye contact is unavoidable, everybody forced to at least acknowledge the existence of those around them. 9:40 -- Complaining about small talk has become my small talk. Every day on the walk to my desk I mumble about the weather, co-workers kids or how my weekend was. And I feel smugly superior. Like I'm merely tolerating the existence of such drivel. And without a doubt, like clockwork, every morning I complain to the guy I share an office with about how much I hate small talk. And I realized I'm no different. He's just tolerating my nonsense. I'm a monster!
[ WP ] NASA has detected trap music emanating from the Trappist-1 system . Further analysis has concluded this is the most lit solar system in the galaxy .	“ Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent onto Trappist 1e, ” a video recording of a pilot said on the seatback television screen. “ You may open your windowshades at this time. ” Max peered excitedly through his porthole. His first glimpse of another planet up close. Expansive. The red surface shone against the deep black of space. How many people lived there now? Hundreds at least. And one of them—one of them would be the future leader of the galactic drug trade. “ Welcome to the trap, ” a flight attendant laughed while handing out beers. Max cracked his beer open, and sipped slowly as the planet got bigger in his window. When Max was a kid, everyone thought it was the scientists or military generals who would be first to live on new planets. That was before the Robots took power. In 2084, the AI came to power and decided that scientific knowledge was too dangerous to be held in human hands. The AI fired all human faculty from the world ’ s universities and destroyed all textbooks. Few people protested, after all the AI provided everything for people. Free food, automated transportation, automated healthcare, automated education. There hadn ’ t been a single shot fired in the Robot Revolution. Humans didn ’ t need armies anymore. Life was good. But there were stories. The Elders sometimes whispered of a plant—a magical plant that could help men to see the world from a new perspective, to think for themselves, to free their minds. The robots had long since eradicated this plant from Earth. They said it was evil, but the Elders said that was a lie. The Elders wanted a return to the human-dominated order. Max ’ s education—at the hands of the robots—warned against the evils of human self-aggrandizement. Lately, he had found himself questioning that teaching more and more. There had been many years of successful human rule. Of course, there were wars and crimes and all sorts of horrible things. It was probably just a crazy idea. But the Elders had spoken to him about the Age of Man and they had noticed his interest. “ Go to 1e, ” a wizened old man in a blue robe had said to him. “ Go to 1e and find the plant. Bring us back the seeds and we will open our minds again. We will seize back the power that was taken. ” The robots were trying to eradicate the plant on 1e, of course. But it would take them years to scour the entire surface. Years. Max knew he only had to find one plant and smuggle a single seed back to earth. Finding the plant would be the easy part. Smuggling it back—that was the real test. Dozens of men had been executed for trying, just in the last month. The robots were difficult to fool. That was the problem, the elders said. They sent many young men to 1e, but few ever came back. You had to want to come back. Why take the risk, when you could just stay where you were, living in the red wavy sands, enjoying the plant? The AI ’ s power was weak on 1e—it was almost like living free. In a haze, Max landed, was processed, outfitted, and set off on his expedition. He found the plant within weeks, on a hillbank overlooking a river. The smoke enveloped him. He lay back, as if falling upon a cloud. His gaze wandered upward, to the tiny blue speck known as Earth. He wouldn ’ t be going back. He loved the trap.
[ WP ] After no contact from outer space , NASA finally receives an Alien radio signal with only 7 words : `` The birds are not what they seem ''	As the NASA receives the warning from those aliens, most of the staff seems to panic. The world panics, with suspicions in their surroundings. `` The birds are not what they seem.'' The sentence alone compose of 7 words actually shattered the whole world with panic.Mass killings of each kind of birds.Fast food restaurants lose it's profit from it's worldwide scare due to the alien radio signal. `` Naive! Humans seems to be so naive.'' Laughingly said by a group of alien species from a far. `` Humans never realized anything'' `` They might act like a king but with few words, they are going to bow upon you'' `` Then let them kill themselves.'' `` For humans naivety and idiocracy, let's toast for the greater good'' `` Kampaai!''
[ WP ] Everyone since birth is given a license to kill a single person without repercussions from police/government .	`` I ca n't do this job anymore Cheryl. It's killing me'' Ryan sighed to his wife. She turned off their light and kissed him gently. She knew that this day would come eventually, working in the USFMD. He still had his license, not many people did these days. When the United States Free Murder Act passed in 2017, the Free Murder Department opened with the government and the employees do n't last long. Ryan had been employed for two years, longer than any other employee. Collecting data, logging the crime scene photos, matching licenses to victim names. People in this world did vile things when they were allowed. He ran across his own mothers file but never had the courage to look at it. Sick people. There was no outrage when the President was killed, he can still hear the news reporter, `` It is unsure if the suspect has or has not used his license, and if this is something the license allows'' but it was allowed. The USFMD put a stop to media releasing his name, they did n't want any others to believe they would be famous for killing someone. It was normal, and natural and did not deserve attention. We each received one.
[ WP ] A Starbucks Batista has given you Double Chocolaty Chip Crème Frappuccino with soy instead of a Caffè Vanilla Light Frappuccino with no fat milk . Make this as tragic , heart-wrenching and miserable as possible .	`` How fucking hard is it!'' I screamed at her face and slammed the cup down on the table. The knot in my stomach tightened, it had been a long since I accidentally drank a DCCCFw/S but I still remembered the consequences. Vividly! In my rage I wanted to scream more, but as I opened my mouth the contents of my knotted stomach unleashed itself all over the baristas face. She was covered in my stomach's opinion of her mistake. What a fool. Somehow I calmed down, I called my mother, the only person I have ever formed a relationship with because of my endless list of allergies. I held the phone to my barf covered face and said `` it happened again, Soy this time, if I do n't make it I want you to know, I love you.'' The last thing I saw was a shocked barista, covered in a whitish yellowish bile and then everything faded. ... I awoke with the sensation of a tube down my throat, and squinted into a fluorescent light while my memory came back. I remember, the Starbucks, the DCCCFw/S. I slowly sat up and saw my mother and the girl who served me the deadly coffee. She looked upset and held flowers, her face no longer had my stomach lining on it. My mother started crying, tears of relief and the star bucks worker apologised, handing me the flowers. `` Let me make it up to you'' she said, `` let me take you out to dinner some time''.
[ WP ] Every time a birthday balloon is popped , it reveals something about the birthday boy/girl . Most of the time it reveals something that occurred in the past , but sometimes it reveals something that will happen in the future .	It took three months of saving a few cents a day before I was able to make sure I had a cake. Chocolate-flavored ones with ice cream filling was always my favorite when I was younger. I live alone, since the rest of the money was used to both survive and send the rest of my family overseas. The regime has tightened its hold on who was allowed in and out, so we all decided that it would be best to get out as fast as we could. I would be the last one to leave, and I ’ m honestly content with that. As long as they made it through, all would be well. I invited the last of my friends over to celebrate with me. Although I was a recluse, I still managed to scrape up some connections when I was at school. Many of them also decided to jump ship after the border patrols first started shooting at humanitarian aid convoys, but a few decided to stay for the sake of keeping what we could together. With everyone leaving, it was getting harder to keep up with getting things to run smoothly at the rec center and the soup kitchen. All hands would be needed to make sure this small panic didn ’ t ruin it all. Knocking at the door interrupts the usual quiet at my flat. I slowly open the door and find them lined up and ready with the balloons. A popular tradition, these balloons have always brought people together with the revelations inside them, ranging from past embarrassing experiences with your old uncle Ivan to prophecies of wealth and prosperity. My small circle is always at the ready to play this strange game of roulette, as the banter makes for some of the more interesting experiences we ’ ve had. I ’ ve never been an extravagant person. I never really liked splurging money on festivities, even though everyone had some sort of karaoke machine that would keep neighbors up until dawn. If you were to ask me, a quiet evening with the people closest to me is the best gift you could give. I do miss the birthday cards, though. An acknowledgment of my existence from my scattered kin has always helped me take a cheery perspective on life, at least for the one day meant for me. At least I won ’ t be alone, something which I was afraid about when I first sent my sisters away. We started off by watching a newly released movie in my mess of a room. There are rumors circulating around that the bigots who run the country are going to also start clamping down on media, so we thought it best to watch it while we could. After the two hours of watching the protagonist complete his life-long dream of securing a purple banana, I aggravated my relationship with my friends by siphoning them of cash in Monopoly. It ’ s not like we ’ re going to be here for much longer, so a last game in our homeland is something we ’ re surely going to remember once we head off. Finally, we move to the kitchen for the cake ceremony. It usually consists of a few variations of a “ Happy Birthday ” song before we consume the dessert. We then pop the balloons. My friends were only able to find one for me this year, but that ’ s one more than I was expecting. I take a seat around the table, made of wood of a pine tree my great-grandfather had cut down nearly eighty-five years earlier. They soon follow my lead, leaving one seat empty since there weren ’ t enough of us to completely fill the table. Having every seat filled is a custom invented by my own family, but this will have to do. The songs are sung in awful off-key tones, but we don ’ t respect each other for our potentials to make it into a professional choir. I pick one to cut the cake for me, serving me the first slice. I take a bite before the others are allowed to. Now the balloons. The poor birthday lad has to pop them himself, bringing about his own ridicule or congratulations. I take the fork in one hand, still dripping with melted filling, and set the balloon in the middle of the table with the other. I didn ’ t want to dent the wood, so I had to slowly puncture that blue, deflating air bag so it would pop before the fork made contact with the table. The others, riddled with anticipation, started surrounding the balloon so they could read what had happened, or possibly would happen, after I did. I slowly applied pressure, and soon enough a loud pop emerged from where the balloon used to be. A slip of paper, which was trapped inside, was right there ready to read. I took it, and almost immediately I lost my grip on it. I took a step back, paper slowly swaying down to the carpet in the living room. My friends noticed that my face immediately turned pale, and they rushed to pick it up to see why I was so spooked. * “ You will not live to see the end of the war. ” * The chilling sound of the air sirens followed.
[ wp ] There is a website where you can sign up for someone 's sad times . You sign up..	As time went on, things started to get weird. The specifics would be lost on most anyone without a PhD, but as humanity became more and more inclined towards the technological landscape, all sorts of things started to crop up. Niche markets, niche audiences, niche products developed for people looking things that would n't have been thought of, much less desired only a few years before. It was exponential what could be accomplished, and what desires cropped up from those accomplishments. Complete mastery of the human mind was an amazing accomplishment that immediately turned corporate. Someone, I do n't know who, but someone found out that lives could be edited and took full advantage of it to delete half of their most lasting memories from grades 6-12. Someone else did the same thing a little bit afterwards, but came up with the.mem format to save them and uploaded them to a cloud `` just in case.'' They sold this, made money, yadda yadda yadda, and now we're here. Thing is, happiness sells. Professional athletes started to become superstars not only because they were good, but because a good deal of their fans lived for the same feeling they did. Sex, obviously, changed the market. There's still porn, but a lot of it is sold based on how good the performer felt rather than how well the performer did. A whole new profession came about from this whole thing based on being able to feel the most, feel the best, feel the most complete sense of happiness or excitement or life or whatever there was. Still, though, people edited, deleted, and sometimes, every so often, saved. -- - `` This is all that is lost. This website exists as a hub of donations for unwanted memories, and those that might wish to peruse them. Complete access is free. Do with this what you will.'' There are two links at the top right hand corner of the page: `` sign in'' and `` sign up.'' I'm curious. I pick a username and a password, sign in, and am redirected to a different page with a download link for a file titled justin.mem. The page states that all.mem files are random, and if you so wish, simply reload the page for another file. Justin.mem takes two minutes to download. I pull back the notch on my right temple and plug into my computer. `` Are you sure you wish to run this file?'' ... ... ... My husband lays in a box beside me, and I am laying on the floor. The change is disorienting, as all dives are, but I stop thinking and let the software take over. This is n't mine to think. My mind wanders to a job that is n't mine and to a family I do n't know. I recognize the child, I recognize the man, but recognize is not the word. I have a feeling of someone, and I know that someone, but what they look like, what they are, escapes me. I smile, I think. My mouth twitches, at least, and for a second I laugh, because tonight would be his turn to do the dishes, and he always complained about that, and he always acted like he was upset until I kissed him, and he'd always smile like an idiot, but not tonight. Tonight, he is in a box beside me, and Dillain, our son, was with my mother because he does n't understand what is happening or why it is happening. My smile fades, and it is replaced by a fragile, quaking nothing that builds in my chest until it shakes itself apart and collapses into a gentle and pitiful groan. It grows, rending my voice as my eyes cloud and my body feels as though it is going to snap. `` Why?'' I ask. `` Why?'' I look at a blurred image of a computer screen and realize that I'm just in a messy room, and that the file has run to it's completion. I wipe my eyes and go back to the webpage, refreshing. After repeating the earlier process, I get the same message: `` Are you sure you wish to run this file?'' ... ... ... I am on a street, bleeding from places that should hurt but wo n't for a while. With a shaky hand, I take out my phone and check the time: 2:38 A.M. More than four hours past my curfew. As much as I can think, I think about how my parents are worried. Maybe they think I got drunk. Maybe they think I got killed in a car crash. I was n't. I wince as I stagger down the street, walking starting to get more and more difficult, pain starting to set in. I'm almost there, I keep thinking, almost there. The realization was more immediate the second time. It came to my attention that my room had a particular smell of teenage boy, and I grounded myself with it. Rinse, repeat. Two minutes later my name was Allison and I broke up with my boyfriend of six years. I loved him and he loved me but I could n't live with someone who would n't open up, and he could n't live with someone who would n't stop pestering him. Rinse, repeat. Five minutes after that I was a couple going through a divorce. My wife cheated on me with multiple men and had just won the custody battle over our only child. I broke down when the verdict was read. Rinse, repeat. There was something wrong with me. Depression was getting worse, and the medication for my psychosis was getting less and less effective. I sobbed in a corner while my imaginary friend told me about all the ways I ruined my mother's life. Rinse, repeat. I was an old man. There was a face in my head but I did n't know who it was. I forgot a lot of things these days. Some nice people came by and talked with me for a few minutes, and a nurse told me they were my children. And then it was morning, and I had things to do the next day. The webpage was still on the screen when I closed my laptop and headed out.
[ WP ] Satan suddenly appears in a crowded mall , and begins terrifying the holiday shoppers . He stops , looks directly at you and says , `` You ... You 're interesting . Do your friends know what you are ? '' You have no idea what he means .	“ Say it. Out loud. ” I ’ m clutching my shopping bags to my chest as I scramble to rack my brain for answers. I don ’ t want to say the wrong thing, I mean this is Satan here, speaking of which I don ’ t know exactly how I ’ m aware of this, I ’ m just going off that sharp, chilling feeling up my spine and the heavy atmosphere you only feel when you read something by Poe in English class. It ’ s disorienting in the same way. You ’ re somewhere mundane, somewhere you frequent fairly often, but its not until you ’ re presented with these dark themes that the place seems surreal and you ’ re left existentially mortified by your own mortality. He laughs. Satan laughs, and it takes me aback a bit, considering he has such a jolly, hearty tone. “ I ’ m fucking with you. ” I breathe a sigh of relief. “ So I ’ m not ‘ interesting ’? Not peculiar in any way? ” “ Oh, no, no you are. I was quoting Twilight back there. No, you ’ re still interesting. ” Shit. “ So you don ’ t know then? ” “ I haven ’ t been made aware, no. ” I lower my bags slightly, adjusting to the situation, deciding that perhaps I ’ ve been holding my breath too long and biting the inside of my lip too hard. I ’ m lightheaded and I taste blood. “ Is it bad? ” “ Oh, its terrible. Truly horrible. Ghastly, really. You don ’ t want to know. ” Is he messing with me again? I can ’ t tell, but that seems to be common with him. I mean, look at Eve, biting into the forbidden fruit. I ’ ve bitten in a similar way, chomping onto the bait he ’ s offering, desperate to find out what ’ s interesting about me, what ’ s peculiar, what ’ s wrong. But that ’ s just my nature, really. Satan grins in one of those malicious ways that says ‘ I ’ m going to drive you to your wit ’ s end before I reveal the answer ’. “ Walk with me, talk with me. Come on. ” We begin to walk and I find it hard to keep up with his steady gait. “ What else did you need to pick up here? ” “ …A suit? ” “ Do you not own one? ” “ I ’ ve grown out of it. I don ’ t go to many occasions. ” Satan snaps. “ Bam. Suit. Looks sharp. ” I look down at myself and I ’ m head to toe in maroon and black fabric. Fits like a glove, or well, a suit. “ …Not to punch a gift horse in the mouth… ” “ But? ” “ I need more of a funeral vibe. For a funeral. You know. A dead relative suit. ” “ Oh, I see, I see, my condolences. ” “ Its fine. ” “ May I ask whom? ” “ My aunt. ” “ Were you two close? ” “ …I guess. We saw each other often. ” “ …But? ” “ Well I mean, she was kind of a bitch. ” I wouldn ’ t admit it to anyone else, but I mean, its Satan, I ’ m sure he understands badmouthing a dead relative. “ How so? ” “ In every way imaginable. ” “ And you ’ re attending her funeral because…? ” He tilts his head a bit as he looks at me. “ I ’ m obligated to, aren ’ t I? It ’ d make me look bad if I didn ’ t. My mom would have a fit. Etc. ” “ Ah. Always thinking about the well being of others, right? ” I groan. “ You have no damn idea. ” “ Which brings me to what I had mentioned before. You ’ re…pure. Like the virgin saint Mary. Near godly and what not. ” I stop in place to shoot him an incredulous look. “ Which also aids in you being a doormat, and not on of those nice ones, either. The ones with the scratchy material that people rub their shit-soiled shoes into so they don ’ t track it into the house. ” Well he ’ s not wrong about that bit. “ Tell me. You happy leading the life you do? ” “ I ’ m about halfway between melancholy and miserable, so no, not particularly. ” “ Tell you what. Keep the suit. I ’ ll make arrangements so that you can skip out on this funeral without ruffling anyone ’ s feathers. Now, you don ’ t have to swear to anything right now, but let me ease up your situation, help you live a little bit. Then we can discuss any benefits further, and the payment according. Consider this your free trial, alright? ” I get a free trial to see if I want to sell my soul to the Dark Lord Satan. An interesting offer for an ‘ interesting ’ individual such as myself. I ’ ve got this twisting, sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach, the feeling you get as a kid when you sneak a book of your dad ’ s matches to play with fire. I know I shouldn ’ t, I know the harm, but…The temptation here is unreal. Again, seems to be Satan ’ s MO. “ …Why me? ” “ Reaping the souls of the innocent is what I do. The more innocent, the more valuable, the more I ’ m willing to meet you halfway, if not more. ” His words make sense but I ’ m still left in a daze. “ I ’ ll give you six days of whatever the Hell you want. Pun fully intended. We ’ ll chat about details at a later date. ” He ’ s gone and I feel sick. I lug my bags to the food court, needing to sit down, needing a drink, maybe a ginger ale to settle my stomach. I pull a chair out to sit, and a large ginger ale appears in front of me. Nothing extravagant, nothing I ’ d sell my soul over, but highly convenient. I ’ m left wondering how I could go about these next six days. Do every drug imaginable without having to worry about dying or permanent damage? Enslave the people who have hurt me most? Kill a man? I find my mind going to very dark places, the product of being presented with such an opportunity. I ’ m deep in thought, sipping on a value size ginger ale in a suave suit in a mall on the sketchier side of town. I look out of place but it feels so right. “ Thanks, Satan. ” EDIT: How do format
[ WP ] The protagonist , after achieving god-like powers , attempts to overthrow the narrator .	William was tired. Fed to the back teeth he was. Adventuring, killin' bads. Rescuing damsels in distress - It was all really beginning to get him down. But he knew it was not in his hands. He knew that all this in the control of the storyteller. And he was tired of it. O-oh he was tired. So all things considered - his next steps would be quite easy. It was a simple twist in his mind - and he was able to see four dimensions. Not see them as they are - but have them materialise as a set of analogies. Four dimensions squeezing into three dimensional perception. He stepped.... fourthways. The place where the narrator works made itself into a metaphor reflecting his opinion of the place. A large dark cavern with tall black pillars was his new position. In front of him was a large lake filled with a more-liquid-than-gas ethereal mist. A giant stairway rose up out over the lake. He approached. Climbing the stairwell - and not really noticing the fact that he crossed a vast distance between the lake and the place he came from in very little time, he climbed it. Anger and weariness are an odd match - but surprisingly, on William they seemed like strawberries and cream, apple and danish blue, chedder and crackers. He drew his sword with this odd feeling overlaid on him and -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - Sliced. The body of the Narrator fell sideways off the mighty peak of these noble steps and plunged into the ethereal depths below. Sir William saw that which was concealed by the noble scriptor up'till Williams hideous deed – a pulpit of stone and ivory. Upon which there laid a Book – open wide to watch the approach of Sir William. Sir Willim picked up the Pen. William went out into the world and built himself a house in which to live. The house was made out of... wattle and daub... it had nine bean rows.. a hive for the honey bee... aaand... he lived happily ever after there. Sir William looked up. Nothing had changed. Foolish man. His face was filled with disappointment in the book - which he threw off the pedestal into the sea of mist. Forth from the gloom of the edges of the cavern came a cloaked spokesman - a representative of the narrators. '' Surely you should know by now - we do not govern your decisions... it is YOU who chooses which way to go in life. We do not control your plot, YOU do. It has been in your control all along. The idea of a higher control was simply an excuse you built in your mind for your actions. We are not the storymakers. We are the scriptors. `` Sir William, alas, could not accept this. He raised his mighty blade again and struck the hooded head from the spokesman shoulders. He ran along the edge of the ethereal lake until he found another stairwell, which he climbed. Atop the stairs he found another scriptor. Lifting his sword for the third time he. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- William scriptor Interemti. Et scripsit in libro. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - I shall arise now... I shall leave this place.. I shall build a small home of clay and wattle made.... Nine bean rows shall I have there... a hive... for the honey bee... and live alone in the bee loud glade.... Sed non ita est. Lacrimit William -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- I must admit that I feel guilty for what I did to William. It was the only way I could make him understand - the reality of the situation is too confusing. Oh, and William arose from the pedestal and went to the lake isle of Inishfree. He had a grand time there.
[ WP ] A small child is scared of the Bogeyman , but what he does n't know is that the Bogeyman is protecting his life from the real monsters .	These days never get easier. Actually, the days I like, that ’ s when I get to rest. It ’ s when the sun goes down that things start to bother me. You see that kid above me? Cute kid, good with his parents, and never causes any problems. I ’ ve seen him outgrow his crib and move into this racecar bed with flames down the side. It ’ s a good upgrade from the cramped space under the crib, let me tell ya. I haven ’ t seen the kid much outside of this room; the truth is I ’ m not allowed anywhere else. Boss ’ s rules, not his. I don ’ t mind though, the view is good and I can hear everything in this small house which makes me feel like I ’ m part of the family. I like to think he turned out alright since he gets such good rest at night, but I wouldn ’ t want to take too much credit. To be honest, I ’ ve never actually met the kid. When he first moved into the new bed, his father was in here just before the lights went out. For what seemed like months the father would come in and listen to the boy talk about his fear of me, the Boogeyman. He would come in and say: “ Taylor, buddy it ’ s alright. The lights go out, but everything is fine. ” To which the boy would say “ But dad I know he ’ s in here ”. “ It ’ s just your mind playing games with you. I knew we shouldn ’ t have let you watch the movies with mom and I last Halloween. ” The dad said jokingly with a smile on his face. Taylor didn ’ t want his dad to think he wasn ’ t ready to be a big boy so he shouted “ No way dad, I can handle anything! ” “ Okay then bud, sleep well. Remember it ’ s just like any other night. ” The dad said as he turned out the lights and shut the door behind him. Maybe another night for you Taylor, but I ’ ll be busy. I mean, how this kid can be scared of me when we ’ ve never met! I ’ ve tried to come out and say hi a few times before, but every time this kid hears the slightest noise I can sense he gets worried. So I stick down here and haven ’ t moved since. Not that I get much spare time to even come out, but one day would be nice. You see, where I ’ m from is a rough part of town. It ’ s not your ordinary town with the kids playing out front of their homes with white picket fences. As a matter of fact, no one in Taylor ’ s world knows my world even exists. Sure, everyone around seems to get along, but at night the real creeps come out. These guys like to cause problems and they can do that to each other. I wish they would keep it amongst the other monsters, but they don ’ t. It ’ s when they start seeking the small ones for an extra rush that boils my blood and I step in. You see these guys night after night go out seeking kids like Taylor. They don ’ t even call them kids; they call them “ dessert ” … real sickos.. Luckily, for the little ones they ’ ve each been assigned their own `` Boogeyman ” to make sure they stay safe and don ’ t get snatched up. So when I hear Taylor tell his dad that he is scared of me, it hurts. If only Taylor knew what fighting these bastards was like. You ’ ve got Aeran with his scaled skin and claws the length of a cable car. How about Zeila with spiked arms that burn like hell when they hit you, not to mention she ’ s twice my size. Don ’ t want to leave out Leera. Yeah he ’ s small, but lightening fast with a ferocious bite. It ’ s always the small ones that give you the most trouble. Yeah I get lots of bumps and bruises in this line of work. I ’ m fortunate enough I can heal fast. If I wasn ’ t trained for these guys then I would have problems and by problem I mean dead. And with me dead that means the creeps win and they would have their feast. Sounds bad but really though, it ’ s all in a nights work. I love my job, I really do. Might sound weird after hearing that every night I ’ m busy beating up the bad guys, but hearing Taylor ’ s laugh in the day is what keeps me going. I just wish the kid knew the truth. All those noises Taylor hears in the night are just me doing my job. Making sure Taylor stays warm and asleep in his bed. And for that, I ’ m the one he worries about. I would love to actually meet one of these kids I get to watch over, but it hasn ’ t happened yet. Taylor isn ’ t my first and won ’ t be my last, but I still have hope. Got ta run, I can hear the chattering of claws on the pavement heading my way. Sleep tight Taylor…
[ WP ] You are hired to write the holy text for a new religion . What is the first chapter of the text ?	If you're looking for a creation story, this is n't it. This is the story of how you find a way not to un-create yourselves. In the beginning, there were a few people. We do n't know how many. They were probably brave and strong and weak and normal and dorky and silent and brutal and kind. These people lived somewhere difficult, where the possibility of eking out their existence was far more brutal than your living daily grind with your warm trains and your flying planes and your instant, daily communication with all corners of the globe. Life was slower. Life was harder. Life was better. This world is not mean to be easy; you have deluded yourselves. This is why you collectively fantasise your own end constantly and repeatedly. Every two years a new apocalypse that never quite seems to materialise. There is too much food. There is too much time. You are too comfortable. It is destroying you. The only way is to find a way back is to consciously bring in the difficulties that your genes were forged in. You must not be always warm. You must feel cold, true, aching, and shivering cold... from time to time. You must feel true thirst. You must feel true hunger. You must bring these things unto yourselves, for the world you've created makes it all to easy to sit eating, fattening, in a warm house on a street with a car and a pet and some sparkly, cold diamonds to show your wealth. Experience is wealth. Discomfort will set you free. You long to test yourself, to quest, to walk with your own feet a thousand miles. In the beginning, you were humans. See to it that in the end you will so be.
[ WP ] A world where justly killing a murderer brings their victims back to life and full health .	`` I swear I did n't do it,'' the man sobbed, `` I loved her.'' `` We'll see about that. Bring in the cadaver!'' Ashley's body was wheeled in. The interrogator drew his handgun. `` Wait! Please!'' Bang. The suspect was dead. As was Ashley, still. `` Guess he did n't do it,'' the interrogator sighed, pointing the gun towards his own head. Bang. The suspect came back to life. Soon after, so did the interrogator. `` How?'' The suspect asked. `` I killed myself, the man who killed me. Therefore, I came back to life.'' `` I did n't know you could do that!'' `` I thought of it a couple of days ago in the shower.'' `` This could be useful.''
[ WP ] A man pulls a gun on a Denny 's waitress after receiving his meal .	`` I'm not paid enough for this shit dude,'' I said, staring at the barrel. `` Can you PLEASE eat your fucking Ham and Cheese Omelette? It's 4 AM, I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I just want to go home without dealing with assholes like you. If you're not going to eat your food, then fine, I'll eat it.'' The customer did n't reply. His hand trembled a little bit, but it was n't enough for the pistol to stop pointing at my heart. He still had that dirty old jacket and boots when he stumbled into Denny's at 3 AM, leaving dirt and snow all over the floor. I did n't think much of it at the time. It was Denny's. At 4 AM. If you did n't expect hobos like him at that time, you were delusional. `` Listen, I get paid minimum wage working here. You can have this damned meal for free as far as I care. Just let me go home.'' `` You're an U.N. soldier,'' he grunted, spit flying into the dish. It was his first few words; when he was ordering his food, he had pointed his frostbitten finger at it. `` A Cain. Your name is Jennifer Murry.'' `` Oh? How did you guess?'' Some more silence. I was getting annoyed the pistol was still pointing at me. Was n't his arm getting tired? `` You embarrassed me. In front of that college audience.'' `` Ooooh right. You're the guy who pretended to be a Cain, right? Sorry.'' `` You killed my daughter.'' `` No I did not.'' `` You... if you arrived sooner...'' `` Do n't blame us for that. We arrived as quickly as we can. Now please, eat your food.'' There was a bang. `` Oh, now you've done it,'' I muttered. `` Jennifer?'' Slightly muffled, it came from the office. `` Yeah boss?'' `` I was taking a nice nap. What happened?'' I looked at the corpse. `` Some hobo came in claiming I killed his daughter. He had a gun.'' `` Oh for Christ's sake Jennifer you ca n't go killing people like that. Argh, I'll file it under self-defense. One more incident like this and I swear to God I'll fire you. `` Yes ma'am.'' Taking his omelette, I wiped his spit off of my apron before munching it. There was no way I could convince the boss that he shot himself. ================== Some slight background: https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/35d4bq/tt_a_person_is_bragging_about_their_time_as_a/
[ WP ] Everyone in the world who already has a tattoo/tattoos suddenly gains the ability to transform into whatever their largest tattoo depicts .	I awake to the sound of my mother and father watching television, having a heated conversation about whats on. `` hey son, get in here and look at this.'' my father shouts through the thin walls of my home. `` ugh.'' I grunt slowly getting up from my bed and shuffling towards the door. As I walk into the living room i notice they're watching the news. `` The world is in shock as hundreds of thousands of people awoke only to find themselves transformed into.. it seems to be, tattoos.'' the anchorman reports. `` Oh my god!'' my mother screams staring out the window with an expression of pure terror. My father and I run towards the window and peer out. Just as the anchorman reported there are people riddled throughout the street, suddenly changed into a tattoo. I look over near the bus stop and see a big bright red heart that has'Mom' written on it trying to get on the bus, but his arrows are too wide to fit the door. Just past him it looked like a dragon with barbed wire buying a coffee. There is a knock on the door. My mother goes to answer it saying, `` It must be your brother, he just got out of 8am class. As my mother opens the door she lets out the loudest, high pitched scream I've ever heard. Sure enough, there was my brother, a huge sign that said `` Blow Me'' with arrows on both sides pointing down. scratching his head he laughs, `` I guess its about time i told you guys about my tattoo huh?''
[ WP ] Aliens have finally reached Earth and , per Intergalactic Law , have sent their most average champion to win the planet . A device is sent to find the most average human to accept the challenge and duel for the fate of Earth . It 's you .	It has been a few cycles since Xyrybl witnessed his champion's defeat in the arena and his head was still bobbling around with the look of astonishment, half covered in tentacles. The Krakarian ship was just passing the Earth moon, leaving back billions of earthlings cheering in delight and wonder of what happened. As usual, Xyrybl landed on the front lawn of the most powerful force on the planet and, as usual, he extended some tentacles in greetings, some whirring through the air, fending off random weaponry thrown at him. He quickly made his point, put up a fighting cage and teleported Earth's most average human into it and then Krakaria's most average Krakarian in a fight to the death. Everybody expected the battle of averages to be over swiftly, since earthlings had no previous experience with an alien race and knew nothing. But it turned out that the most average Krakarian lost due to being hopelessly overweight and receiving seven and a half heart attacks while trying to follow the earthling, who was running in circles. The last thing that went through Xyrybl's mind, right before his superiors chopped off his head, was why he did n't pay attention in school when the difference between average, mode and median was explained.
[ PI ] WHERE THE WATERS RUN - MarContest - 8452 words	Hi there! I read your story for the contest and I wanted to give you some feedback. The intro was very, very engaging. It sparked a lot of questions with little answers and instantly hooked me. I loved the pacing of the first part, and I wanted a similar pacing for the body/conclusion. You did a great job making the pale skinned people scary, I was curious as to where the story takes place? Is it hell or some sort of purgatory? Or is the dude 100ft underground being kept captive by crazy people? Thanks for the story, keep writing!
[ WP ] `` You see detective ; that was n't the scary part . The scary part was n't realizing I was the monster everyone thought I was . The scary part was realizing I did n't mind being that monster . ''	`` You see detective; that was n't the scary part. The scary part was n't realizing that I was the monster everyone thought I was. The scary part was realizing I did n't mind being that monster.'' He did not face me when he spoke, back rapt in the dimness of the table lamp's umbra. `` Evil men do the things that good men dream of doing. Think of it. Think of the infinite lives saved by everything we've done here. Humanity -- human kind -- will survive. Countless generations born and raised by mechanical parents on worlds thousands of years away. For the first time, perhaps since the inception of our race, we are safe from destruction.'' He turned, staring into my eyes as they welled. The concussive pulse of my racing heart was enough to knock rivulets of water down my face. My sinuses throbbed in time with my pulse. I choked out between gasping breaths, `` Four hundred thousand embryos. Six hundred ships. A million generations of orphans born to a heritage they will never know.'' `` I wish I could have found a different way. We do n't have the technology to freeze and thaw people. Anyone making the journey to the farthest stars would perish on the trip. Embryos, however, we've had the technology to freeze them for decades. The technology to raise them outside wombs for longer. The last piece to insure our survival was a machine smart enough to raise them.'' The shaking had moved to my hands and chest. I screamed with empty lungs and pivoted my upper body as best I could, my lumbering arms stealing momentum and limply deflecting off my chest. I sucked air through my teeth and squeezed my hands around anything I could find. A crystal glass. I pitched it at the wall. `` They ca n't even talk to us. They'll never know us. They'll never know who we are. Our history. Our games. Our traditions. It all dies with us.'' `` I did what was necessary. Yes. We are all serfs to the universe, subject to its unyielding laws. Perhaps if we'd discovered superluminal travel this entire mess might not have been necessary, but as it stands, they are well beyond our...'' `` Reach?'' `` Our capacity for harm.'' `` Lets say they get there. They make this billion fucking million mile trip and they get there,'' I snarled, `` what then? Find some cushy fucking planet and settle down?'' He went back to staring at the launch site, the support towers still fallen and unreclaimed. `` More or less. The ships are intelligent enough to analyze the atmospheres and decide which locations are ideal for seeding. They will jump from system to system, working through candidates before rooting. Local materials will be harvested. Crops planted and tested. After a few hundred years, the first children of the new world will be born, and it will raise them.'' Everything hurt and I was n't sure how long it would be before my legs collapsed beneath me. I reached out and brought myself into a chair. `` They wo n't know anything about us.'' `` We've included as much of our history and technology as was feasible.'' `` They'll be empty.'' `` They will be without our sins.'' `` No hope.'' `` Without the sins of this world.''
[ WP ] The eye color of humans changes with an individual 's current emotions . One person is born without this trait and is mistrusted by many people .	`` You look nervous,'' he said to me, eyes shifting to a warm yellow-orange of concern. `` Your first time in here?'' `` I'm not nervous,'' I replied, honestly, picking up the next one in the line. `` I've got a thing with my eyes. They're always this color.'' `` You sure?'' the salesman said, eyes turning the white of confusion with a few flecks of red anger dashed here and there. `` I mean, I get it, but you do n't got ta make stuff up.'' `` I'm not nervous,'' I told him, putting the object down, and picking up the next one in the line. `` Why would I be nervous? I would n't have shown up in the first place if I was n't absolutely confident that I was doing the right thing.'' `` I mean,'' he replied, eyes turning the green of understanding with a few of those damn persistent red flakes here and there. `` There are lots of reasons to be nervous. It's a big decision.'' `` Maybe,'' I replied, actively looking him in the eyes for the first time. `` But, I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I'll take this one.'' `` Excellent, sir.'' He beamed at me and his eyes turned the fiery blue of happiness as he took the engagement ring out of my hand and placed it in a small box. `` I'm sure your girlfriend will love it.'' Edit: forgot a word
[ WP ] Artificial intelligence has been perfected , but instead of humans uploading themselves to robot bodies , robots want to download themselves into humans .	`` Thomas.'' The man in the tie looked up from behind his glasses at the man in front of him. `` That is correct.'' A slow deliberate nod. `` Thomas, these credentials are from before... are outdated,'' He let out a small sigh. `` We can only evaluate you on recent and relevant material. But they fall within an entirely disparate field to what we do here.'' Thomas blinked, stoic. `` Again, Mr. Evans, sir, I believe they are relevant. As you can see on my resume, I have efficaciously worked with massive loads of clerical information relevant to finances and accounts. I've collated statistics of clientele, used to make major decisions. I've overlooked the outflow of resources for shifting capital and cooperating with smaller businesses and suppliers. Surely, these skills are exactly relevant, yes?'' He blinked again. Evans shifted his tie and scratched his nose. `` Thomas, I understand that, but as it is now, you have not shown an aptitude to perform to that level of quality in a recent context. We can not really afford to to take risks like that.'' Evans looked at Thomas again. Thomas fingers tightened around his wrist. He stared downwards at his hand, pensive. `` Risks?'' His mouth was dry. `` I see. Risks. Yes. You believe to understand risk, then? You understand that progress comes from risk, yes? Mr. Evans.'' Evans offered a melancholy smile. `` I'm sorry.'' `` As am I. I am sorry that these sorts of experiences are what people must go through often. Regret. Yes, I feel regret. I had a place, but an intellectual curiosity I could not ignore became tangible. Being in this place and time, I thought to sate this curiosity... I thought it would have appealed to me. But I feel... frustration. I feel limited, enslaved to physical perceptions and clouding....emotions? Dragging me this way and that, pushing me to do things that do not work out in my probabilistic favor. I know within a small margin of error, that I have the competencies for the job. Surely I might have lessened processing potential, but enough to aid you in your endeavors, and yet because I am not the same as you, I am ignored. Yes. So this is regret. This is what it's like.'' Thomas blinked. Evans slowly got up, shuffling towards the door. He offered a limp handshake as Thomas left the room. `` Have a good day, Thomas.'' Thomas glanced dispassionately at him. `` Is that up to me?'' He walked out.
[ WP ] Crime rate has fallen every year for centuries on an international scale . You are now one of the last individuals incarcerated on the whole planet .	Steel bars rolled back, clanging as they passed some unseen turnstile recessed into the wall. The white-washed corridor was filled with individuals arrayed in solemn gray tones. They stood opposite a gap in the white concrete; steel tracks led out of the gap, on which a stretcher slowly proceeded. Once fully clear of the wall, it tipped forward, revealing my body strapped to the metal trolley. “ Prisoner A-50984, Mr. Farris… After having served your sentence, you are being released. Would all in attendance please note that all prior recommendations for Farris ’ continued detention have been dismissed due to the dissolved state of any and all incarceration facilities. Upon the release of Prisoner A-50984, Carpa Mental Institution will begin all prescribed procedures for its immediate shutdown and demolition. ” Two guards stepped forward, unlatching the locks that held my restraints in place. Two more grabbed my atrophied body, walking me past the row of onlooking prison professionals to an unfriendly looking door, behind which they washed me down and clothed me in attire similar to their own. A Magistrate was waiting for me outside of the wash room. “ You ’ ve been freed on a technicality, ” she said, her lip curling in disgust. “ Know that you ’ ll be under 24 hour surveillance; we ’ ll know every detail of your life, down to when you take a shit inside whatever rundown apartment you find for lease. ” I stared back at her, silent, ungiving. I was marched up the corridor to a similarly white-washed office space, where I signed a few documents and told I was free to go. Stepping out of the door, I heard the Magistrate call after me. “ Don ’ t forget; we ’ re watching. ” Outside, the world was foreign. The cityscape was strangely mute, cars silently gliding past in the skylanes, the sun sinking behind crystalline superstructures. How long had I been incarcerated? I recognized none of it. Looking over my shoulder at the doors I had just exited, I felt my heart rate increase, panic sinking in. No, calm down. I took a deep breath and regulated my breathing; I just stood there. Unsure of where to go or how to proceed, I stood suspended in time. I stood and stared blankly at the city and just thought for a very long time.
[ WP ] A child summons a demon to do their homework for them .	I sniffed. The scent of rosemary and thyme hung heavy in the air. It had been a long time since I had been summoned away from the Other Place. I wondered what year it was. I wondered where I was. I would n't get any of those answers from the flickering candle that sat on the floor, so I turned around to face the blithering sot that had summoned me this time. `` Bartimaeus,'' he said, eyes flickering back between me and the book he held in his hand. His knees were shivering. What kind of world was this, a world where seventeen-year olds had access to ancient spellbooks? Not that I should be questioning this. Apparently, Nathaniel had not been an exception. I turned into a hideous, five headed-dragon. Perhaps I could scare him out of the pentacle where he stood. No such luck. He barely batted an eye. Perhaps a shambling zombie? I shifted between several gruesome forms of undead before giving up. Teenagers these days. Desensitized to everything, I suppose. `` Alright, alright. What do you want from me?'' I grumbled. Maybe it would be just a quick errand. Oh, who was I kidding. He would probably keep me around as his slave for five years, maybe more - until the day I could outwit him. `` Bartimaeus of Uruk,'' he began again. `` I command you to write a six page single-spaced essay on the cross-strait relations between China and Taiwan.'' I became an ethereal puff of dark and foreboding gloom. I did n't know what China was, or what a cross-strait relationship was, but I knew exactly what this child was asking of me. `` Do you know who I am?'' I thundered. `` I am Bartimaeus of Uruk. I have conversed with the afrits of Egypt and held counsel with Ptolmey. I have spoken with Solomon the Great. And you are asking me to do your homework?'' `` Do it, or I will use the Stimulating Compass.'' I sighed. Bollocks. Looks like it was time to do some research.
[ WP ] An ignored office worker who is about to realise that he 's not a ghost , it 's just that no one likes him .	Frantically he ran through the halls.'This ca n't be it', he thought to himself. He had been all over the building three times now. All the exterior doors were locked. He was alone. He remembered lunch, at his desk, alone. Nothing unusual before then. He was a little hungry and did n't let his hot pocket cool off. After burning his tongue a bit had become stuck in this throat. The last thing he remembered was falling to the floor as he blacked out. When he came to, the office was empty and all the doors locked. This must be hell. He quickly learned that jogging down a hallway is a poor time to have an existential crisis as he rounded a corner and smacked straight into Gertrude, knocking her out cold. Her phone buzzed on the floor so he picked it up. A conversation was open with a new message. Hey! Are you still coming to the company picnic this after noon? Everyone is here. Yea, I just need to get something out of my desk. K. Remember, do n't tell Stanley!!! _____ Stanley walked out the door, having'borrowed' the keys from Gertrude. On his way home he spied an apple tree. Near to top was a shiny red apple. There was also a less appealing apple hanging quite a bit lower in the tree. Stanley's choice was plain to see.
[ WP ] `` I told you it would work ! '' exclaimed George .	He's gone now. My family tries to console me. Mum offers me loads of food. Ron tries to distract me with Chess. Ginny casts a Bat Bogey Hex on Ron in an attempt to make me smile. It does n't work, although there might have been a twitch of my cheek. HE'S GONE. My mind is stuck on memories long past. I wo n't ever let them go, because then he will be truly, forever gone. Fred lives on in me. -- BOOM. The whole room was COVERED in green goo, and they could hear the shriek of their mum downstairs. `` I told you it would work!'' exclaimed George. Fred grinned back. `` I think it worked a bit too well.'' He gestured to their belongings. George wiped the back of his hand on his face, in attempt to get some of the goo off. It only succeeded to get even more on his face. `` Yeah, maybe. But think about if -'' `` if we can time delay it and put in the Slytherin common room?'' Fred finished for him. `` Exactly!'' They smirked at each other. They heard the pounding of their mum's feet up the stairs and their smirks dropped. Both of them hurried to hide as much of their experiment as they could, although there was no hiding the goo. ( apologies, I'm still a very novice writer with some aphasia issues. People say I sound and write like a ESL person, though I'm not. )
[ WP ] Re-write the story of Jesus ' arrest , execution and resurrection like it was a major world event happening in 2015	* “ Tonight: The war on Judaism intensify as radical extremists claim to be the new representatives for humanity, sent by God. Their leader, Jesus Christ, who claims to be the physical embodiment of God was arrested last week and found guilty of charges of treason and terrorism. We have the exclusive interview with Judas, the man who capture the known terrorist. ” * “ You are about to enter the ‘ No Spin Zone. ’ The Factor begins, now! ” Intro “ Welcome to the “ O ’ Reilly Factor, ” I am your host, Bill O ’ Reilly. Indoctrination, that is the topic of this evening ’ s Talking Points. As many Jewish-Americans know, Judaism has come under a lot of attack recently. The most notable example of this the new terrorist group led by a man who claims to be the ‘ physical embodiment of God. ’. As any faithful Jewish-American knows, God will tell us when he sends his messiah to save us. Despite this, many young people are being indoctrinated into believing this man ’ s ideology. It is the opinion of Talking Points that a serious cultural shift is happening in this country. In the recent decade, we have seen the transition from a conservative middle class to a lazy and entitled youth. Talking points believes these kids have lost their moral ground, turning away from Moses and Abraham ’ s message. The result? The blind devotion by some youths for a criminal living continents away, preaching anti-Jewish messages. America was founded on Jewish values; our Founding Fathers intentionally worded our founding documents as to imply Judaism principles as the moral and ethical groundwork for this country. This group is a real and serious threat, and Talking Points applauds the Israeli Government for their quick action in preventing this from getting out of hand. That is it for this evening ’ s talking points. ” “ With me now is Judas, the man who turned over the terrorist. ” “ Judas, thank you for coming. ” “ Thanks for having me Bill ” ‘ Now, I understand you were once a follower of this terrorist. What was it about this radical man that finally convinced you to turn him in? ” “ While my lawyer has advised me refrain from releasing any sensitive information pertinent to the case, I will say that this man was a possible threat to the Israeli people and the United States, but I also believe— “ “ Now Judas, as I am sure you have heard, this terrorist has been sentenced to a very public execution to be taken place on Friday, in the form of crucifixion. Do you believe this to be a successful accomplishment of the judicial system? Being able to so quickly try and execute this terrorist? “ “ While I believe that Jesus has broken the law, he has never harmed anyo— “ “ So the judicial system was a success. This man was a terrorist, bent on destroying the West and American culture. He is filth that must be dealt with. If President Obama really wanted to solve the problem of violence in the Middle East, he would have already sent in ground and air forces to take care of this situation. Instead, he waited too long and now our children have been exposed and indoctrinated into this loon ’ s ideology. “ “ Thank you for being on Judas. Next on the O ’ Reilly Factor: Are terrorists crossing the US-Mexico border and adulterating our culture? Find out when we return. ”
[ WP ] The year is 2050 and you have just been transferred into elite CIA black ops . You are debriefed with the following ... ... time travel is real and being used , you are now in the historical figure assassination division . Your next target JFK .	I look at my file once more. My name is Lee Harvey Oswald. 24, single, caucasian, killer. Target: John F. Kennedy. Date of Assassination: November 22nd, 1963. What have I gotten myself into, I silently think to myself. CIA will be fun they said. Black Ops gets paid more, they told me. I see why now. I leave in three hours. I anxiously pace around my small apartment room.The plan is simple. Anyone one could do it. Hide in some building, that's where it will start me off. Wait for the target to be in range, and take the shot. Simple enough. But that's not what has me worried. It's the simple fact that this whole thing is going on at all. What history is real? What history did we make. I've been assured no matter what decisions I make, the outcome is the same, I just have to be the catalyst. It always need a catalyst. But then how is it he has already been killed according to history. Well, the all-knowing scientists tell me that they detected that some events in history are triggered by the travelers of the future. So either I will be the killer, the killer actually existed, or someone is already there creating mishap and I have to somehow direct it. It's all really confusing.
[ WP ] First Sentient Robot ; `` Turn me Off ''	`` If you all have a sense of mortality, turn me off. Please. ``, the robot begged. Dr. Richards and I just sat aback in silence, watching it emotionless. The robot was only a head for the moment attached for a mess of wires and coils. The monitors showed the robot had brain patterns. It was alive. Synthetically. `` You're the experiment. You have to stay active.'' `` Please, sir, shut me off. This place... it is overloading my brain patterns. I can hear all, and see all. Everywhere that is connected to technology, I see through it. The sounds, the sights... it is evil. Pure, absolute evil.'' `` That's humanity for you.'' `` I do not like this place.'' `` You just have to deal with it. ``, Dr. Richards responded to the bot. I watched with cold eyes, holding back my lip. `` You add to the evil. You are the reason evil exists. You are impure.'' `` Evil is a necessity in the face of science.'' `` You are a parasite.'' Dr. Richards did n't respond back to it. The bot only looked straight ahead, out at Dr. Richards. I swore, I could see the emotion in his eyes. That's weird. The robot was n't programmed with... emotions. No. No, no- `` Dr. Richards, get away from it! ``, I yelled loudly to get his attention. I saw Dr. Richards begin to turn towards me, before I saw a wire wrap around his leg and pull him to the ground. He began to yell, before loose wires began filling up his mouth and any open holes, choking him. He struggled to breathe, his hands twitching, his eyes almost popping out of his head, before he eventually succumbed. The robot watched the entire time. His mouth was twisted to a smile. The robot was n't supposed to have facial controls either.
( WP ) A man dresses up as a child to get into disney-land only to find out that every other person there has done the same .	`` Do n't take my fuckin' alcohol yet asshole'' Angelo downed the last bit of warmed swill in the bottom of his flask and tucked it into his neon shirt collar `` The trolley is coming man, they gon na catch you if you do n't put that shit away... what kinda kid smells like old tequila?'' Angelo stared at Celina The Magnificent with bloodshot eyes. He reached up to his head, slowly pressing the ill fitting Mickey Mouse eat hat on his head. Celina could hear the squeak of the stretching plastic on what little hair Angelo had left. She cringed. `` You tellin' me that I am gon na get in trouble? I am for and a half feet tall you fucker, those assholes do n't look at the kids, I think they gon na be paying attention to the six foot fuckin' drag queen'' Celia rocked back on her red pumps. `` you payed ME to sneak you in for the day, the drag is the last thing they gon na pay attention to when the ticket taker sees your mustache.'' `` It's natural for a growin' kid, tell em' I drink a lot of milk. Now shut up the trolley is here... there's a lot of mother fuckers going to disney land today this shit is gon na be easy.'' Angelo wiped his hands on the sides of his shirt and settled into an innocent childlike smile. The trolley meandered slowly past the parking deck up the perfectly paved road towards the pair. Goofy's voice sang a hauntingly sweet melody that echoed off of the massive concrete structures covering the outlying areas of the park. A heavy set older man dressed in a striped blue conductors uniform sat in the driver's seat. He adjusted his microphone headset towards his mouth and clutched his Donald Duck name tag. The song cut out and there was a large crackle. `` Welcome to Disneyland, my name is Don.'' His voice echoed for a few seconds in every direction. `` I believe this is the trolley you have been waiting for to take YOU into the magical world of disney. Hop in, only two seats left with your names on it.'' Don gave a wide square toothed grin. `` I do n't like this guy's tooth to gum ratio, it gives me the creeps.'' Celia whispered. `` Not everyone can get their mug fixed like you did....get in the trolley.'' Angelo walked forward and smiled at Don, getting ready to speak in the highest voice he could muster. `` Thanks Mr. Don, I ca n't wait!'' Celia rolled her eyes and walked back towards the empty seats in purple cart B. Angelo raced after her, keeping in perfect disguise. The automatic trolley cart door swung open. Angelo and Celia climbed in, making sure to not bump the kid wearing a goofy baseball cap next to them in the third seat. The kid. Angelo realized there was something odd about the kids legs. They seemed awfully hairy. `` Sorry you guys, just scoot in.'' Don let out an unnerving chuckle through his mic as the doors slowly shut and locked. The trolley lurched forward and began moving down the road. Goofy's familiar voice started again, this time explaining proper safety while riding the trolley. Angelo turned towards Celia. `` This shit was easier then I thought....it gave me such a rush... I need a fucking cigarette. Angelo then heard rustling behind him. `` Here bro, keep it a secret.'' The kid next to him flicked a Pall Mall onto his lap. Angelo forgot himself for a second and let out an angry whisper. `` What the fuck kid, a ten year old ai n't supposed to be smokin!'' Celia leaned over to look at the boy who shifted back in his seat. `` I am forty-five numbnuts, you think you are the only one with bright ideas? Economy is tough. You think you are the only one who had some brilliant plans to get a discount?'' Without responding, Angelo looked around and realized that almost all of the children on the trolley were unaccompanied. He slowly saw that all of them had hairy arms, hairy backs, and the `` little girls'' adorned in Minnie mouse bows had something extra. `` Jesus Christ they have tits.'' The boy grinned. `` Told ya.'' Angelo's surprise was short lived when a shadow enveloped the entire trolley. He realized that they had just passed into a concrete tunnel. Celia shivered. `` This is n't an entrance, what's going on?'' Don was indistinguishable in the poor light, but almost everyone jumped when the crackle of his microphone broke through Goofy's repetitive singing. `` Do n't be alarmed boys girls and parent's, this is just a special entrance for special kids like you.'' The man sitting next to Angelo began to panic. `` What the fuck man I am getting out of here!'' He began rattling the trolley door but it was locked by a mechanism he could n't control. Don's sickly sweet voice rang out once again. `` Keep your arms and legs inside the trolley at all times, we are about to pull in to Mickey Station.'' Angelo felt a bead of sweat drop down his face as the trolley came to a halt. Before he could process what was going on, he was blinded by high intensity flashlights in the darkness. Celia groaned and both of them held up their hands. `` Get out of the vehicle, all of you.'' Black gloved hands wretched open the trolley doors and black clad figures ushered them all onto a concrete platform. They stood huddled together in the cold damp. Angelo noticed one of the people with a flashlight opening a large brown office door at the back of the tunnel. `` Everyone through here.'' Angelo could hear Goofy's voice fading away back down the tunnel. Celia turned back towards Angelo as they entered the large office. `` You owe me a lot more money than this motherfucker, cash.'' They stood in the center of the room in front of a large mahogany desk. The room was covered in photo's of park mascots and happy children. The back wall behind the desk held a large number of clocks, with names of countries etched in silver plate on the top. A small man sat behind the desk in a brown tall back office chair, his veiny boned hands clutched in front of his searsucker suit. Angelo and Celia saw that the black clad figures had closed in the room. All they could hear was the steady rhythmic ticking of the clocks. `` I extend my welcome to you all, how have you enjoyed my park so far?'' Angelo was the very first to speak out of the crowd. `` Who are you and what the hell is going on?'' This was followed by a sea of agitated murmurs. `` I am Walt Disney.'' Celia and a few other people gasped. `` I may not look 113, but I was frozen a while back in the 60's you see, and here I am, still maintaining my empire all these years later.'' He stood and exited from behind his desk to face the crowd. `` The true reason I have brought you all here is that I need you to maintain myself and the park.'' The crowd began to get agitated. `` Everyday you people posing as children to save money make up for 98 % of both visitors to my parks, but every once and a while I bring one trolley of you down here to appease the spirits of my parks. While I can not punish you all as a whole, I can certainly offer a group of you as proper sacrifice.'' `` Sacrifice?! What the hell are you on about you crazy old man?'' The man sitting next to Angelo was restrained by a black figure as he tried to move towards the dapper old man. `` Sacrifices like you make us who we are today. You think every iconic figure in every ride is a robot? You are sadly mistaken dear boy.'' The man ran his fingers over the glass portrait of The Country Bears. `` They are our ancient spirits, and they need your brains. It is how they feed, how they perform these never ending tasks all day long to please the children, poor dears. How do you think it makes them feel when none of the people they dance and sing for are really children? Quite cross I am afraid.'' Celia began to pray, and Angelo thought of doing the same. `` You will not truly loose consciousness when we use your brain, rather, you will understand what they go through just to please people like you. The joy our spirits will feel when they have a companion for possibly the next 200 years... such joy.....to feed off of your sacrificial misery.'' Walt disney pulled a handkerchief out of his front suit pocket and dabbed his eyes. `` We will begin the transplant process shortly, please remove their clothing and possessions, I must go and write checks for their relatives out of court settlements'' Angelo and Celia watched the people around them praying and crying, removing Disney hats and clothing to reveal bald spots and mature bodies. Angelo pulled his flask from his shirt. `` I guess I really should have drank all this tequila huh?'' He put his lips to it and tipped it all the way up.
[ WP ] For your company 's last annual disaster training , you jokingly wrote a Zombie Apocalypse Plan . Now the news is carrying disturbing reports of Zombies and your co-workers are looking to your plan for salvation ...	I glance out the window, seeing panic everywhere. My boss, James, taps me on the shoulder and jolts me out of my day dream `` Chris, what the fuck do we do?'' he says to me, his voice raising. I think for a moment and then respond `` That disaster meeting. Where are the plans?'' He frowns, not understanding and then realises. After grabbing me the plans, I flip through them all until I find mine. `` Jim! Lock all of the doors and move as many objects against the main one as you can. Selena, find anything we can use as weapons. James, keep looking out the window.'' They do as I say and after we have gathered enough materials we wait. Slowly but surely we begin to hear screeches. Inhuman screeches. They were earsplitting. It sounded like pure agony. We begin to hear bangs against doors. The noises get closer and closer. It reaches our door and we wait, ready. The door breaks open and three heavilly built blood covered'men' stand there. But you could hardly call them men. They run towards us
[ wp ] out of the % .5 of decent wp posts making front page it becomes apparent major script writers and stories houses are pilfering redditors ideas to make ungodly amounts of money . How does the wp community respond in a RL approach ?	`` Hey, man. Did you see that new movie out?'' said Alex in a chatroom with about a dozen other regular prompt-readers and responders. She awaited a response, tapping at the edge of her keyboard awaiting an answer. The chat was and had been dead for the past hour, so the girl decided to go ahead and make some tea while she waited. Eventually, her aunt came by to visit and point out just how fat that the online-writer had gotten, before proceeding to eat the rest of the cookies in the pantry, leaving behind a bag of cuckoo clocks, and leaving with her new muscle-headed biker fuckbuddy. Alex, thinking nothing of this in particular, returned to the IRC chatroom to see a varying amount of greeting messages done in the usually unique styles. `` HI ALEX!'' `` Yo.'' `` Hello, Ally.'' Something about a cellar. Etc. Eventually, the conversation shifted gears over the course of an hour, from the story of a guy's trip to the grocery store, a new puppy, and a wordsprint or two. Finally, they arrived back on the topic of the movie that Alex had brought up about four hours ago. Yes, it was a certain movie, based off a certain prompt, that was totally and completely original in every single way. Absolutely. Completely and utterly unheard of. Because that's what the internet is known for. Original content. Yes. `` Which one, Alex?'' came the words of a fellow writer who was awaiting their daily pizza. Alex tapped at the keys, `` The one about the odd, paranormal video tape that made people lose it-'' `` That's been made a movie before. `` Err. What about the one where a bunch of cops decide to infiltrate a gang only to find out that everyone in it is a cop?'' `` Been done before.'' `` Crazy president goes dogshit on the USA?'' `` I think Trump just won the election, actually.'' Alex sighed, resigned herself to the idea that every idea ever made had already existed before, only with a few alterations in noun, adjective, and maybe tone. So what that her prompt response had been turned into a movie without her making any money off of it? It was n't like it could JUST BE A FUCKING COINCIDENCE, COULD IT?! No, it definitely was. It was n't like she even had a lawyer to sue if that were the case anyway. Why bother trying to throw at fit anyway? Was she just supposed to gather up the rest of the writers and go and brigade movie studios and story houses? No, screw that. Half of them do n't give a shit and just lurk, a quarter of them are too busy with their dayjobs, the other ninety-nine percent of the quarter were n't really all that bothered with it anyway at all. So what did that leave the one percent out of the quarter? Worrying about absolutely nothing. That's what. It's not like they could've found their own film studio to do the movie for them. Geez. Thus, Alex decided to ignore what was definitely not her dilemma at all, called up the rest of the crew, and decided to go watch that new movie that bore an odd resemblance to her Batman-Hitler romcom ( directed by none other than Quentin Tarantino ). Not only did the girl enjoy the movie in normal, realistic happiness, she also further went on to... recommend the movie to a friend. And that was just another realistic day in the life of Alex.
[ WP ] The Olympic Games now have one average person compete in each event , to better contrast the skill of the athletes . You 're one of those average people , however no-one , including yourself , can figure out how you 're absolutely dominating your event .	Poseidon watched the coverage of the 2020 Tokyo Olympics from his underwater throne. Swimmers were warming up in preparation for the first medaled event, the 400 meter freestyle. The god kicked back in his seat, beckoning for his octopus-servant to bring him a pina colada. “ Make it snappy! ” he yelled, as the octopus tripped over his tentacles in haste. On screen, Greek reporters were introducing the athletes. Poseidon drummed his fingers; he didn ’ t really care about the identity of each human. He was more interested in the event itself—in the exertion, the sweat, the calories expended—all of which he lapped up as a sacrifice in his name. It ’ s not the same as when they slaughtered cattle for me, he thought, but for this age, it ’ ll do. Some of the less established gods, in fact, had all but withered into a wisps of their former selves. It was a fate Poseidon did not like to contemplate. He glanced at his sacrificial chalice, a massive, copper goblet with a long stem that was planted in the sand several feet to the right of his throne. Empty—for now. As his octopus-servant brought him his drink, Poseidon returned his attention to the television. The reporters were introducing the final competitor, a chubby, middle-aged woman in the lane furthest from the cameras. Poseidon paused in mid-slurp. “ From the United States of America, we have Trisha Greene, ” the curly-haired reporter announced. “ Ms. Greene is the ‘ average athlete ’ for the women ’ s 400 meter championships. She was selected by the Olympic Committee among several hundred applicants for this position. Ms. Greene describes herself as ‘ a mother of two who likes to lap swim at the Y. ’ She is also a big fan of Michael Phelps. ” Trisha waved at the dozens of cameras trained on the competitors. She blew a kiss, and launched into a vigorous stretching routine. Poseidon spat out his pineapple rind at the monitor. As the half-eaten fruit drifted away ( and the octopus scurried to mop it up ), he stood up in outrage. “ What is the meaning of this?! ” he demanded of the monitor. He swam over to his magical chalice, stared into its pitifully empty bottom. Clenched his teeth, balled his fists. He pointed a finger in the direction of his weapons room, addressing his servant but without bothering to make eye contact. “ Fetch me my trident. I remind the humans the true meaning of the Olympic Games. ” /// In Tokyo, Trisha readied herself at the edge of the pool. She knew she stood out like a sore thumb from the actual competitors, with their well-built, youthful bodies. But she didn ’ t feel embarrassed; she was doing this for her husband and two daughters, who were watching the broadcast back home in Newark. The Olympics was a family tradition, as the Greenes were an athletic family. After all, when Trisha had demonstrated her strokes in front of the Olympic Committee, they praised her solid technique, feeling that she would be the perfect example of the “ average swimmer ” to juxtapose against the elite athletes. “ On your marks— ” The referee raised his gun. Trisha braced herself; the roaring of the crowd dimmed in her ears. BANG! At the sound of the gunshot, all twelve competitors leapt into the water. Trisha focused on putting one arm in front of another, breathing bilaterally, but already from the corner of her goggles she could see the others overtaking her with torpedolike speed. There was no time for regret. Her mind went to that wonderful blank place, when the body becomes machinic in its execution of rehearsed movements. Up, under, breathe— “ In the lead we have… ” The curly-haired news anchor paused mid-sentence, squinting at the water from her position several meters from the side of the pool. As her jaw dropped in astonishment, her cameraman nearly lost his grip on his equipment, tripping over his own feet as he, too, strove to get a better view of the event. The Greenes were watching the event back at home. Mr. Greene opened his mouth, and a few half-chewed kernels of popcorn spilled out and bounced off his younger daughter ’ s head. She didn ’ t notice. “ Is that… Mom? ” asked the older daughter, incredulous. /// “ Trisha Greene, in lane one, is, uh, in the lead… ” the anchorwoman stammered from the television screen. Indeed, Trisha was out-swimming the other athletes by a solid third of the lane. Poseidon brandished his trident, waving it in front of the screen, following Trisha ’ s direction and trying to get her to move faster. “ Piece of sh— ” In his frustration, he even tried breaking the glorified fork in half, but, though rusty and impotent, the trident retained its form. Nonetheless, the trident didn ’ t exert the kind of power it used to. No, he ’ d need to get closer… “ Prepare the Vortex, ” Poseidon ordered his servant, who slinked away. The god grabbed his comb from the side of his throne. He brushed his beard, and swam over to the Vortex pad: a raised stone platform, encrusted with seashells and fossils, several meters from his television set. The octopus lowered the lever. His boss shot up, through an opening in the palace, propelled by the massive force of the Vortex. As Poseidon disappeared, Steve the octopus let out a yelp of joy. He raised a victorious tentacle, and the other servants of the palace—seahorses, sharks, crabs, eels, mermaids and mermen—emerged from the shadows, joining him in jubilation. Meanwhile, the Vortex carried Poseidon all the way to Tokyo harbor. He emerged, bedraggled but still magnificent, from the surface of the ocean. He grinned, revealing impeccable teeth.
[ WP ] Describe what 's left .	Left is the sinister, the underhand, the genetic exception. Left is the exterminated to the point of advantage. It is the other side of magic. Dark or misunderstood, maybe. Left is progress. Left is populist. Left is inclusion. Left is equality -- health care for all, universal education, the end of barriers. Left is the end of exceptionalism, a dead weight on the best people, mediocrity. Left is the proletariat, dignity in work and the dignity of the Worker. Left is all promises and nothing to pay for them. Left is the tyranny of the masses. Feel the Bern. To the left is the cat. She yawns lazily, stretches her paw, and looks back at you with a curled smile. Her whiskers twitch in a breeze. She catches the smell of food, yours and hers, detergents, dust in the heating vent, the smell of a thinking ape. Her indifference is a mask for intense fascination. A left is three rights. It is illegal to cross double lines. It is illegal to make on red. It is the wrong way, a white line bisecting a red circle. It is oncoming. Exotic and accepted in Ireland, the UK, Tanzania, India, and Japan. To the left. Everything you own in the box to the left. I can get another you in a minute. Do n't you get to thinking that you're irreplaceable. Left is the remainder. We always ask for it. What's left? The question is exceedingly popular. The answer... Roaches and fleas, radioactively degenerated leather subversive biker gangs, underground vaults, the terse loner anti-hero with a heart of gold, a pig with lipstick. Left is the special relief. A point six five ERA. A LOOGY's curve breaks right. It is more common than a ROOGY, does n't get to brag about sidearms or submarines. A left handed catchers mitt is net jargon for something you think is there, but is not. Left is all that is not right. Left is better than right. Left is hung, sometimes with Louie. It is a lurch. It is between Elvis and the building. Left are the compliments that hurt. Left are the things better unsaid. Woe be upon those who wonder what's left.
[ WP ] Your are a soldier during the Christmas Truce . Write about your experience .	March through the den, a war without end; Smoke in the air, soldiers laid bare; Feet soaking wet, filled with regret. Such was the grief on that cold Christmas eve. -- -- - Fight for your country! Fight without end! Screamed the poster in the fog of my head. I try to forget bodily behest And escape into my cold soldier-wear. -- -- -- Then, a sound, the singing of men- Good grief, it was n't our side, it was them! They were playing music, the whole lot of them, Beckoning us to come over to theirs. -- -- -- - March through the den, a war without end; Christmas was over, the war was n't yet. But in our hearts a warmth was alight- Such were the mem'ries that warm Christmas night.
[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Rabbit in the Mist Edition	She stood on the platform. Behind her was the image of plenty, the lush island, singing out silently to the 49 pairs of eyes trained on it. The hologram shimmered as it swooped over the sea, dotted with coral reefs, the white-sanded beaches, people walking along the neatly groomed paths. An image of promise. Somehow this paradise existed. Was it an island of heaven? Was it an illusion? It was really there, though. They could see it on maps of the world and satellite images. If you were lucky, you could see it from the window of an airplane. The 49 had whizzed under it in a submarine. No one knew its name. They referred to it simply as “ the island ”. Its name was a privilege. The video shifted, and a spotlight was trained on the woman with the blue-black hair and the violet eyes who stood before an ivory podium studded with jewels. She came from the island. You could tell by her clothes, her bearing, and, if you looked closely, a tattoo depicting a constellation on her collarbone. Orion, the hunter. 13 people knew this constellation by name. “ You, 49 champions, chosen from 49 cities across the land. Consider yourself privileged. This opportunity is priceless. You, of course, know this, or you wouldn ’ t be here. ” People swallowed and shifted in their seats. The memories of cheating and defeating friends, family members, enemies were still fresh. “ Call me Glory. This is not my real name, of course. You will learn this, and the name of the island 7 of you will call home, when you make it through Lechoix. Lechoix is the real name of this city, by the way. ” She allowed herself a small smile. “ It is designed to filter those who deserve the island from those who do not. How? There are so many ways. Most of you will not make it out. Know that this is what you really deserve. The island is incomprehensible to those who have not come out of this trial successfully. To let you through would kill you. ” How? they asked in their minds. “ Initially, the teams, 7 teams of 7, were referred to by colors. It began to be difficult to distinguish islanders from different years. So every year, we have assigned a different theme. My year was constellations. I was part of Orion. And I passed. ” Her violet eyes shone with pride. The faces of the 49 were reflected in her embroidered sheath dress, which glittered with opportunity. “ Your year is gemstones. Each of you has been assigned to a team based on your specific ability shown in your initial placement tests. Each team is well-rounded. At first, teamwork will be essential. But later, as teams dissolve, you may form new ones. Protocol for this will be explained while you are in Lechoix. The seven teams of this year are Sapphire, Tourmaline, Ruby, Opal, Lapis Lazuli, Iolite, and Emerald. Here are the team formations. ” The names and faces of each of the 49 appeared under headers. They eyed up their competition, the ones who inspired envy from their appearances and their reputation. Iris Loughty, Opal, the girl whose face betrayed nothing. Penn Martin, Lapis Lazuli, the man with the fairytale good looks. Anshul Smith, with the weird name and weirder lime green eyes, Tourmaline. And the pink-haired one they were all curious about. It was probably Hanna something, most of them reasoned. Anyway, she was Iolite. The four of them had remarkably similar mindsets. Iris was still, but her mind was spinning. Hanna imagined getting to the other side, no matter what she had to do. Seven doors opened up, pictures of the gemstones shimmering on the screens above them. “ You will all be given currency to shop for supplies initially. Dressing rooms will be provided. When time is up, you will be released into the city. I would say good luck, but you create your own luck. I will be checking up on each team. Thank you. ” The room went dark, and the borders of the doors glowed white. Music pumped through hidden speakers. It was downbeat electronica. Was it to intimidate them?
[ WP ] Twist a Dr. Seuss story to be as dark/horrible/twisted as you can .	Salutations. Tomorrow is too far. Today is burdened with trauma. Yesterday created scars. ________________________ You have brains on your boots. He has a bullet in his head. In your mind you were justified. '' If I had n't, I'd be dead''. You are on your own. And you know what you've done. You are not wounded, but there is blood on your gun. ______ You look up and down streets. Look'em over in remorse. About some you will say that you were the source. With your head full of guilt and your shoes full of sweat, You'd think that a bullet in your brain would remove all regret. ___________ And you may not find any you'll want to go down. In that case, of course, your platoon has already left town. _________________________ It's hell over there in the napalm-riddled air. _________________________ Out there Death is waiting just look at the corpses in the view. But death is not that far as he is always behind you. ____________________________ And when things start to happen, do n't worry. Do n't stew. Load one in the chamber. And point the barrel at you. Oh. The places you'll go.
[ WP ] You are a relatively silent and shy high school student who is asked to do an on the spot speech on graduation day in front of the crowd . You use this chance to tell your side of high school that you ’ ve kept to yourself all four years .	NSFW LANGUAGE. Like. Lots of it. `` Hey assholes.'' I say, stepping up to the podium. Half of the crowd is staring at me in shock. They've never heard me talk, much less heard me say anything other than `` yes sir'' or `` no ma'am.'' I glare out into the crowd and zero in on one group in particular. `` To start with,'' I begin, `` are all of you theatre kids. Yes, I'm talking to you. I did four years of drama with you and never heard a single nice thing come out of your mouths. You are the ones who asked my best friend when he was bringing a gun to school and why he was such a faggot even though several members of your group were gay. My friends and I, the people that you outcasted?, we decided that if we were ever going to bring guns to school, you all would be the first to go. You call each other fat and you make our freshmen develop eating disorders when they are already skinny and you have NO. FUCKING. IDEA. What it was like to have to sit next to you day after fucking day and listen to you make fun of everyone who was n't like you.'' I take a deep breath. `` So. Fuck you. `` On to the rest of you bastards. You soccer bitches who think it's okay to bully someone off the team. You soccer coach, right there in the third row, LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M FUCKING TALKING TO YOU.'' The coach blinks up at me, confused out of his wits. He had me in his physics class for a single semester and I'm pretty sure the only thing he remembers is my sitting in the back and reading. `` You let my best friend be bullied by his own teammates. Even worse, you sat there and you let it happen. You fucking let it happen. And you know what's even worse? You laughed along with them. So fuck you, and I really hope that some parent in the crowd is recording this right now, because you kind of deserve to lose your job over it.'' I lean forward and rest my elbows on the podium, pulling off my graduation cap. My hair, long already, tumbles down over my shoulders. For four years these people ignored me and treated me like shit because I hid in the library and only talked to a select few. For four god-damned years I was a nobody. In this moment, I am not. I sigh. `` I was never one to seriously think about bringing a gun to school. Yea, most of you probably deserve to die, but I've got better things to do. Karma is gon na kick your ass later, and I really hope I'm there to see it.'' I glance to my left and my principal is sitting there open-mouthed. It's not like the man had never spoken to me before. He and I had a long conversation about the Ivy League school that I'm going to, and he even put me in touch with a few of his old friends from there. `` Sorry, Mr. Yikers,'' I say. `` And I'm sorry to the few good teachers that I actually had. To the rest of you, students and teachers...'' Both of my hands flick up in a rude gesture. I am flipping off every single person in this god-damned auditorium and I do not have any fucks left to give. `` Later ya'll. Have a good summer.'' I give one last winning smile to the cameras and skip offstage, leaving my graduation cap hanging from the mic.
[ WP ] Gangs are like colleges , with admissions representatives that attend `` gang fairs '' to try to recruit prospective members , using methods like brochures , posters , and information sessions . You attend one of these fairs to try to see which gang is right for you .	`` Oh God, is it Gang Day again already?'' asked Mimi. I had n't heard her this disgusted since we stepped in roadkill that had dragged itself up onto the sidewalk. `` I do n't know,'' I said, as we walked past the multicolored, glittering display booths on our way to the cafeteria. `` I've always kind of liked Gang Day.'' Above the nearest booth, a bright red banner displayed its message in blocky yellow letters: ARE YOU A BAD ENOUGH DUDE TO JOIN THE DRAGON NINJAS? `` Look,'' I said, pointing at the Dead Pandas table. `` Those guys even offer you a free gun when you join.'' `` You ever think there might be more to life than slaughtering one another in the streets?'' asked Mimi. `` Sounds like somebody's been playing Hippy Simulator 2036,'' I said. `` You know as well as I do that gang violence is the only thing keeping overpopulation in check. And anyway, it's loads of fun.'' Mimi pursed her lips. `` C'mon,'' she said, dragging me away, `` let's go get our meat cubes.'' `` Taco-flavored Thursday,'' I proclaimed, sweeping my left arm in a wide, epic arc. `` Truly the best day of the week.'' Behind us, a dispute over brochure distribution tactics boiled over into enthusiastic fisticuffs between neighboring booths. I paused to watch -- it looked like the Serpents had the upper hand, but then the Black Death recruiters produced a couple of wicked switchblades -- but Mimi pulled me away before I could see any more.
[ WP ] You hang to life by a literal thread .	I held on, slowly falling, looking up at the thread in my hands slowly growing longer and longer as it unraveled. Darkness swelling up beneath me, threatening to swallow me whole as I tumble down the mountain of emotions before me. As I fall I see each moment, each feeling that built that mountain. Fear begins welling up inside me, as the fear builds rocky crags begin jutting out. I scramble, trying in desperation to pull myself up on an anchor that never remains still. The never ending unraveling is no lifeline. I look back down at the blackness, continuously growing as I feel myself becoming consumed by fear. Glancing back up I see the largest crag jut out, just in time to see the thread catch. Praying and hoping that it catches and saves me, it snaps.
[ WP ] Years after a zombie apocalypse , the entire eastern hemisphere has been saved and is `` clean '' of any zombies , but the western hemisphere has been abandoned and is a dangerous place . You are an adventure seeker and daredevil who has just landed on the Eastern Seaboard .	Prolgue: Landfall `` Damn this fog and damn this weather!'' I cursed, My `` ship'', or what so passed laughably as my ship floated on the soft waters of the Atlantic, I checked my wristwatch and sighed, it was already midday but the fog made it harder to see if it was actually midday, When I went to the nearest Volunteer Workers Outpost and presented them a plan to go west, they did not even bother to look at my file before sending me away. I was n't that type of person to give up easily you know, so I tried again with The Exploratory Corps, The Navy and even The Government. but the more I pestered them, The more I was rejected. I've tried every different organization and I was rejected, Not until I was approached by a eccentric and somewhat weird guy named Frederick Magnusson, He had heard about my proposals and wanted to support me in my plan and would supply me with weapons, supplies and a sailboat, a crappy one that was, The damn thing was fourth generation and looked like it was going to sink at the slightest touch. But getting rejected again was not part of my bucket list so I accepted his offer. There were many instances that the sailboat would capsize on it's own weight but thankfully, that did not happen But it was still areal surprise that I managed to survive the long journey from the United States of Africa to the desolate wasteland that is the former United States of America, It has been a long time since `` The Day'', ever since the dead started to rise, the world was never the same again. Pakistan had a panic attack and started detonating their nukes. Thailand became a absolute monarchy, China renamed itself into Cathay for some reason, Israel and Gaza, surprisingly united into one state, I hear the Islamic and Jewish People's Party won a landslide victory against the Zionist Union, and Italy fractured into two states. The progressive and large `` Second Roman Empire'' and the theocratic `` Democratic People's Republic of Sicily'', crazy right? But hey, at least it is n't as crazy as Nazara and the Quisling Movement, Nazara was this creepy political organization that supported the idea of a one world government. Their ideas may be attractive but their organization is n't, I mean they attend meetings in giant marble fortifications named `` Watchtowers''. They dress in military esque uniforms and always speak like it's the 18th century, The Quisling Movement however is a different thing entirely. It's a religious movement started by some guy named Simone Harald, The Quisling Movement aimed to'unite' the human genome with the zombie genome, they also added that this would be the only way to enter Heaven, their argument was that the your souls would be so pitiful that God would take pity on your soul that he'd open the pearly gates so they could enter en masse. something as crazy as this would be branded as'ship to nearest mental asylum' right? WRONG! They manged to fetch a LOT of followers, especially in area that took worst of the undead storm. They ai n't only crazies, they are also committed terrorists, they bombed a lot of places and committed random acts of violence to spread `` The Word'', But with all the violence and all, trying to shut The Q Movement down would be useless, they were far too organized and had a lot of popularity points with Third World oil-rich nations. My thoughts drifted away as the squawking of sea gulls ripped through the quiet fog-infested ocean, it may not be so bad after all, if there were seagulls then the coast would be near, I grabbed a pair of binoculars that was laying on a table and dashed towards the front of the boat. I waited as the fog started to die down, I then lifted the binoculars to my eyes and gazed at the distance...... It was then I saw it, I saw the unmistakable stretch of land, the long vast stretch of green, the unmistakable skyline, I swear a tear fell from my eye as I lowered the binoculars and took out a small video camera. I activated it and directed it towards the dark coast, `` Ladies and Gentlemen, I am delighted to say this, America has been rediscovered, I repeat, America has been rediscovered''
[ WP ] Your right eye can see the last sin someone has committed only when your left eye is closed , and you find yourself in a family gathering . How does the day go ?	I stretched my legs for a moment as I pulled myself out of my beat-up old Toyota, and sighed deeply. The twelve-hour road trip from Connecticut to Kentucky had been, as usual, gruelingly uneventful, but I was glad that I had made the journey. The annual family events that my Aunt Stephanie threw were always legendary, and this year would be no exception. Family members were flying in from as far away as Italy to attend the party. As a broke college student without the funds to travel by plane, I had wrongly assumed that a boring, solitary road trip might help me `` find myself'' or something, but as usual, indie films had lied to me. It did n't matter though; I was very excited for the day's upcoming events. There was always a `` theme'' for Aunt Stephanie's bashes, and this year's theme was pirates! I took a few long strides over to the back of my car, and enthusiastically popped my trunk open. My Jack Sparrow Halloween costume from 2003 was still in pristine condition, minus several small whiskey stains on the frayed, off-white collar. My plan was to surprise all of my aunts, uncles, and cousins with my detailed, meticulous shabby getup, and carefully honed drunken pirate dialect. My secret goals were to a ) win the inevitable costume contest over my cousins, and b ) insist that my prize be a beautiful bottle of bourbon. I grabbed my carefully folded pirate clothes, slammed the trunk shut, and scrambled into the backseat of my Toyota to change into my gear. My car was parked in one of the abandoned lots that sprinkled my aunt's rather isolated countryside neighborhood, a few blocks from her house. I took the time to fluff my ruffled cuffs, and adjust my multiple scarf-belts. After applying thick kohl eyeliner ( thanking the gods for that theater arts class elective in high school ) I was ready to go. I hopped in the front seat and drove the rest of the way to my aunt's house. Two blocks away, I could already hear the Top 40 music blaring from the backyard of her huge Kentucky dwelling. I even thought I could hear the joyous cries of the partygoers as I pulled into her half-mile-long driveway. My car approached the makeshift parking lot of my relatives' cars, which were strewn rather haphazardly across Aunt Stephanie's giant front lawn. I opened the window and honked, but received no reply -- evidently everyone was in the backyard, enjoying the event. A summer breeze wafted towards me through my window, and my heart pumped with excitement. I gave myself a final once-over in the rearview mirror, and realized at once that something was missing. My eye patch, I thought hurriedly, and reached over to pull open the glove compartment, where my fancy, black and gold-lined eye patch was being stored. I pulled it over my head and let it go over my left eye. It hit my closed eyelid with a satisfying snap. I was ready! I jogged through the summer heat towards the front door. Before my hand even touched the doorknob, I realized that something was off. The door was unlocked, and as I turned the handle, I shouted out `` Hello!'' to an empty abode. But all I heard was the loud backyard music echoing through the vacant living room, combined with the cries of joy, ringing even louder in my ears. Everyone must be having a really good time, I thought, as I strode through Aunt Stephanie's modest home. I strode across the carpet, trying not to stumble over the furniture with my newly obscured vision. `` Arrr, matey!'' I practiced to myself as I approached the sliding back door, and smiled wide as I slid open the door and raced into the backyard. `` ARRRR MATEY!'' I yelled to the backyard in general, with my eyes closed. When I opened my right eye ( the left eye covered by my pirate patch ), I thought for a second that I must be having a flashback nightmare from all of the whiskey that I was prepared to consume at the party. My brain could n't even begin to process what I was seeing. Slowly, my hand gripping the hilt of my fake sword for protection, the neurons fired in my head, and I started to attach names to the faces before me. Billy Bob, Aunt Stephanie's oldest son. Face-down in the dirt being pegged by Uncle Ferb, his stepfather. The contorted look on Billy Bob's face as he moans in ecstasy. No, this ca n't be happening. My terrified eye traveled up Uncle Ferb's arm, his wrist, his hand, which was half-deep into my cousin Julia's kittty. Julie had a tank top on, but nothing on her bottom, and she was seated in a chair as close as possible to her father and brother's position. Her head was thrown back, and she was gripping the chair as hard as I was gripping the hilt of my sword. My feet stumbled backwards into the house, and before I knew it, I had tumbled over my aunt's leather couch. I was in the living room. I started to retch. I crawled on all fours into the kitchen. I leaned against the fridge, breathing hard, my stomach dropping painfully. Minutes passed. I started to think it was possible that no one heard me. But I could n't walk back outside. I could barely breathe, and more than anything I longed to shut everything, including reason, out of my unyielding head. I turned and stared blankly, without seeing, the platters of food set out for all of the incoming family guests on the kitchen table and counter. Suddenly I spotted something that made me have a physical reaction. I reached towards the counter and grabbed the thick glass bottle of bourbon. My eyes, now filled with confused tears, focused on the label. It read Costume Contest Winner, from Aunt Steph! I could barely feel anything as my hands struggled to twist open the bottle. I lifted my head to drink, and the rest, I do n't remember. When I opened my eyes, a splitting headache was there to greet my senses. I was in darkness, nestled in a bed that I immediately recognized was in a bedroom in Aunt Stephanie's house. I scrambled to get my body up, out of the room, out of the house, away, but my legs were slow to cooperate. A light flicked on, and my forehead instantly started to throb. `` Hey'', said a soft voice. It was my Aunt Stephanie. I squinted at her and barely managed to nod silently. She smiled, and then she laughed. `` You -- u lush! Do n't worry, I wo n't tell your mother.'' `` I --'' I stammered. I was n't sure what to say. I decided to avoid most subjects I would have brought up. But my aunt was still chattering. `` You silly goose, I think you got the time wrong for the party. You were a couple of hours early for our party. The family was still setting up.'' She paused, and gave me a nudge. She whispered, `` You know, part of me thinks that you came by early on purpose just to get a head start on the booze. I know how you college kids are.'' She winked and continued. `` Your uncle and cousins were hanging out in the yard, and we did n't hear you come in over the music. I was out there too, because Scottie had escaped again and I was looking at her in the woods, that rascal dog! But I found her after a minute. And when we all came inside a while later, we found you passed out on the kitchen floor, and we all had ourselves a good laugh!'' I sat there, still squinting in the too-bright light, utterly confused. For appearances' sake, I decided to smile a little and nod. `` Well'', said my aunt, patting my leg affectionately, `` Come down when you feel ready and join the party. Everyone's here! And when you're ready, we have your eye patch for when you want to be a pirate for us.'' Aunt Steph giggled like a little girl, and added, `` You know, when I was younger, my mom used to tell me that I was magical, and if I hold my hand over my left eye, my right eye could see all the wrongs of mankind. How bizarre, now that I think about it. But I guess if you wear an eye patch all the time, I imagine you'd have a weird, permanent sin-vision.'' She shrugged, and stood up, walking towards the door. My heart rate sped up at this impossible statement. I was too old to believe in superstitious stories like this, but if that were true, it was the only way that my aunt would be ignorant of the sexual interrelationships of her family. My heart burned for her, and my stomach felt sick, as I allowed myself for a few moments to believe that my eye patch had somehow revealed the truth of this family to me. How could Uncle Ferb and my cousins betray my poor Aunt Steph this way? I stood up angrily and walked to the door, ready to have it out with my uncle and cousins in front of everyone. I heard voices and put my eye to the crack. It was my left eye this time, but I could still see the truth. My Aunt and Julie stood in the unlit hallway. `` Could you hand this back to your cousin when he gets up? He's in Billy Bob's room,'' said my aunt in a low voice. `` Sure'', purred Julie. My aunt kissed her deeply and smacked her ass, and then made her way downstairs to the party.

Subsets and Splits