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Children 's logic dictates the way the world works . [ WP ]
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“ That ’ s not an option I ’ m currently willing to exercise. ”
I pinch the bridge of my nose to stave off the headache building behind my eyes. If this goes on much longer, I ’ m gon na have to start to start cutting back on the vegetables.
“ She ’ s dangerous, Jimmy. You know that. You ’ ve seen it. Dealt with it first hand. She just doesn ’ t play by anyone ’ s rules. ”
Ali finished off her sucker and unwrapped a fresh one, offering it to me. I declined. I ’ d sworn off the things after my third cavity scare. That one saw me at the dentist for the third time in as many months. I don ’ t care what my dad says, I know that guy is evil. Who owns a drill like that? A murderer, that ’ s who. I still hear the damn thing in my nightmares.
While she savored the smooth flavor of blue-raspberry, I pondered her words. We both knew she was right. The situation was spiralling out of control. The details of our latest reports flooded my mind, even as I sing songed a few La-La ’ s to block them out.
Our perp is a wildcard and damn near untraceable. Hide and seek skills like none I ’ ve ever seen. In another life she might have made the perfect detective, but as it was, no one could trust her as far as they could throw her, and she always went limp.
Always.
It ’ s part of what made her so hard to bring in. Bringing backup was just plain unfair, and she was one of the fastest runners I ’ d ever had the displeasure of trying to chase down. She outran Andy Hadwell ’ s older brother, for Christ ’ s sake -- while he was wearing his new light-ups. He ’ d spiralled into a depression after that one. Beaten by a girl a full year his junior. He spent a lot of time at the guidance counselor over it.
We ’ d tried dogs, she brought treats. We ’ d offered candy, favors, hell even the department ’ s entire collection of action figures. Nothing. She had changed. Gone was the lovable, hyperactive runt we all used to know. She was too focused.
Fucking Vyvanse. I ’ ll get that shit off the street if it ’ s the last thing I do.
“ It ’ s the only option we have left. ”
Ali ’ s voice pulled me out of my musings. I stared down at my sandwich. Ham and cheese. Crustless. Cut into triangles. Not a drop of mayo on it. I pushed it away in disgust before grabbing the sucker right out of Ali ’ s mouth and popping into mine.
“ What the hell, Jimmy? Are you outta your mind? You ’ re gon na be laid up for a week! We ’ ve got ta get you to a hospit -- ”
“ Jeez, relax. ” I cut her off. “ I had my boosters last week. You think I don ’ t get my shots regularly, working with you? ”
“ Could have let someone know, asshole. I ’ m not losing another partner to Cooties. ”
She was clearly distressed, and I immediately felt horrible. I blew a light raspberry to diffuse the tension.
“ Yeah, yeah. I ’ m sorry. Don ’ t be such a baby about it. ”
The sullen pout on her blue-stained lips lingered, but she let it slide without further comment.
“ Anyway, ” she continued, “ it ’ s got ta be you. You ’ ve got a direct line on this one. You ’ ve got the credibility. We need you, Jimmy. ”
I looked down, still unsure. My own face stared back from the reflective faceplate of my phone.
“ What about the guys? ” My raspy voice sounds broken, even to me. “ What will they think of me? This is a slippery slope, Ali. Will they be able to trust me? Will I be able to trust myself? ”
She reached across to take my hand in hers, and I looked around startled. No one seemed to be watching so I relaxed a bit.
“ Listen Jimmy, I didn ’ t want to do this but…,'' her grip tightened, `` I dare you to do it. ”
“ Look, Ali, I just don ’ t think -- ”
“ I double-dog dare you. ”
“ C ’ mon, think about what ’ s going to happen. Think about what kind of precedent this sets. You can ’ t -- ”
“ Fucking hell, Jimmy! I triple dog dare you! ”
Blood, rushing through my ears and the tinkle of dozens of dropped utensils. Every eye in the diner was now locked onto our table. I withdrew my shaky hand from Ali ’ s, no longer concerned in the slightest about who saw. I had eyes only for the phone in front of me as my body acted of its own volition.
“ F-fine ” I managed to stutter out, “ if this is what you really want. I ’ ll do it, but you ’ re taking care of the paperwork, and don ’ t think the Sheriff isn ’ t going to hear about this ”
Ali daintily brushed a few stray crumbs off of her dress before carefully straightening her tiara.
“ It ’ s the burden of my station, Jimmy. It ’ s not all tea parties and being rescued by knights. ”
I ignore her, and pick up my phone from the table. Scrolling through my contacts, I try to think of a way out of this. Nothing. Pausing before I make the call, I look up one last time.
“ It ’ s days like these that I wish I ’ d stayed out in space, y ’ know. Fighting aliens is so much simpler than all of this. ”
Before she has a chance to respond I return to the task at hand, tapping the contact and waiting for the line to connect. A few rings in and I ’ m almost hoping no one picks up, but I ’ m not that lucky.
“ Jimmy, is that you? Shouldn ’ t you be at work, honey? What ’ s wrong? ”
God, I ’ m going to burn in hell for this.
“ Hey, mom. We ’ ve got to talk about Sarah, is dad around? ”
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[ OT ] SatChat : How do you get into the writing zone ?
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How do I get into the writing zone? Usually some ambient sound seems to help me focus rather well. Other than that, soundtracks and stuff without words seems to do well but I also listen to a lot of Jrock and Classic rock with words. I seem to go slower with the latter two though.
Also a link to /r/Syraphia where I store my prompt responses along with some other random stories. ( I promise some more random in the future. ) And also links to my stories on Inkitt: [ Learning from the Jungle ] ( http: //www.inkitt.com/stories/40216 ), [ Vampire Song ] ( http: //www.inkitt.com/stories/24810 ) ( which is in the Fandom 2 contest! Vote for it! ), and [ Playthings ] ( http: //www.inkitt.com/stories/31146 ).
I'm technically finished with NaNoWriMo, at about 82k words currently, so I'm just aiming for the end of the novel now! I doubt I'll make it by the end of the month but it's a nice goal! I'm going to be busy shortly with the end of the month and a convention going up that I'm doing panels for lol.
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[ WP ] In a world where the longer you are a virgin the luckier you are , but whoever takes it gets that luck instead . You 're turning a hundred soon and people really want that luck .
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`` It's madness that it's gone this far,'' says Melissande, her dainty feet pacing the courtyard stone. Grass grows sweet between the paths, raising kisses to the shell-bright sky. Amidst the lilies, ninety-nine year old Tersus sits, lost in thought, radiating the manifold blessings of his virginity. It had been raining not moments before he stepped outside, but now rainwater sluices harmlessly through the dirt around him, carving out a miraculous patch of dry grass. `` Sheer temptation,'' Melissande says, pulling at the starched front of her dress. `` A dozen daemons over the past few weeks, I'm fending succubi from the windows with a broom! And now news of warlord devotees riding a path to our temple, would-be seductresses posing as maids-'' She throws up her hands. `` This is a perversion of the twin deities! This amounts to a declaration of war!''
Her brother Lisander leans casually against the birdbath and comes away with a wet sleeve. He shakes it off and grimaces. `` You sound bitter, Lissa. You do n't respect dear venerable Tersus any longer? Have you no faith in the blessings of Dian?''
`` It's a perversion of blessings!'' she snaps. `` It's little more than greed at this point! Dian and Dyonus are n't meant to be opponents! It's a mutual relationship, to withhold and to take.'' Her hand comes up unconsciously to the spot on her dress where a blood-red brooch would go. `` He should have given up his virginity decades ago, honestly, to a mutual virgin, more or less his age. It's the only moral way to go about it, obviously. A mutual exchange of favor, rather than all this this open conflict!''
`` It makes for terrible sex, though,'' Lisander says.
`` Lisander!'' Spots of color burn bright in her cheeks. `` What's one... awkward coupling when we can share with each other the blessings of the deities? You have the rest of your life for sex, honestly!''
`` We put honey on the tongues of babes to welcome them to the sweetness of the world,'' Lisander teases. `` Imagine if, instead, we clumsily fumbled and bruised their lips with the spoon-''
`` That's enough!'' Melissande says, and then folds her hand and bends her head low. `` I mean it, Lisander. He's brought us to the brink of war. They'll rape him, if they can. They'll destroy him. If you're not ready to defend him-''
`` Of course I'm ready!'' Lisander scowls and his hand goes to the sword by his side. `` But you're making yourself sick with this, Lissa. You think some rapist lord is going to beat his path to our door, unimpeded by the city watch? We're as safe as we can be here, daemons not withstanding. It's a Temple of Dian. Dian protects us. The Sealed Vessel, potent and whole. You need to have a little bit of faith.''
`` Faith,'' Melissande says bitterly. `` And yet do the Dyonian cultists not have that same faith? Dyonus, All-Consuming and All-Penetrating, the Open Mouth, the Probing Tongue-''
`` Lissa-''
`` I do n't understand!'' she says, and her palms come up to press into her eyes. `` It's so simple! Virgins exchanging virginities! What could be simpler, more beautiful that that? And yet all this conflict, all this violent acquisition-''
`` Lissa,'' her brother repeats, and encircles an arm around her. `` It's a balance, that's all it is-''
`` No it's not!'' she shrieks, and glances guiltily at the old man, still lost in his appraisal of the clouds. `` It look him a lifetime, it took him near a hundred years to build up that favor. And someone could take it from him in a second. He is the most blessed acolyte of Dian that I know, and yet someone like the Prince of Lovers, the Whore of Babylon, are a dozen times more powerful! We only have our own lifetime, Lisander! And yet they could take for themselves dozens of lifetimes, hundreds of lifetimes -''
`` Children,'' comes an aged voice, and Tersus is there, his eyes bright and beaming down at them. `` How lovely it is to see you.''
`` Master Tersus!'' Melissande stammers, and makes to curtsy, and Lisander bobs and bows and hits his own calf with the flat of his sword. `` Master Tersus!'' he says. `` I've come at my sister's request, to guard you if need be-''
`` That will be fine, that will be fine,'' Tersus says, and moves his hand in a blessing. He moves as lightly as the lilies in the wind, unencumbered by worry. `` My dear girl,'' he says, and touches Melissande's cheek. `` You worry far too much about me. I have long devoted myself to Dian, and they have blessed me accordingly. I shall be entirely fine.'' He shifts and creaks his bony back. `` Will you help me inside, my dear girl? I should like to prepare for the night.'' He smiles with wrinkled lips and lays a hand on Lisander's shoulder. `` And you are a good lad, to come reassure your sister.''
`` Of course,'' Lisander says, and bows again, and stands at attention, eyes darting towards the courtyard gate, as his sister helps Tersus inside.
***
`` I overheard much,'' Tersus says in the candlelight, as she kneels down and unlaces his sandals, prepares to bathe his feet. `` You fear the path I have chosen.''
`` Oh, oh no, Master Tersus,'' she says, the jug of water shaking in her hands. `` I did not - I did n't mean, I would not presume-''
`` Listen now,'' he says, and strokes her hair. `` I understand your faith and find it worthy. You have communed with the twin deities, and learned their doctrine most deeply.'' She pours the water over his knobbly and muddy toes as he sits on the edge of his bed, watches the deep rich earth fall from the wrinkles and cracks. She massages his feet, feels the motion of the bones beneath the skin, her head bowed before him. `` But tell me this, Melissande,'' he says. `` Would you soon leave Dian's order? Exchange your virginity with another's? I expect nothing from you,'' he says, holding up a hand before she can speak. `` But for you to follow your own heart. Tell me, and tell me true, Melissande, will you soon be breaking from my path?''
`` I-I intend to, soon,'' she stammers, lifting his feet from the basin. The water has grown murky and dark, and she splashes it out of the window for the bushes to drink.
`` And is there a virgin you have in mind?'' he inquires with a benevolent smile.
`` N-no,'' she says, and feels her lies like solid lumps of coal, dark spots left in his radiance. `` That is to say-'' She bends forward, touches her forehead to his knees. `` I'm scared, Master Tersus. I understand what is right, I understand what is required of me to keep Dian and Dyonus in balance. But - I've never - I've served Dian since I was a child, and the thought of...'' She wonders what happened to her certainty, the stern assurance of theology. It is as if the deities have retreated from her.
`` I understand entirely, dear child,'' Tersus speaks, and his hand close on her shoulders and lift her to her feet. `` Let me tell you, that you are right and true and good in your reasoning.'' He bows his head and shakes it sadly. `` I was a mad old man, relying on your youth to defend me-''
`` Oh, no, Master Tersus,'' she says quickly. `` Not at all! I was - I was simply worried for you, I did n't think when I spoke-''
`` You were right entirely,'' he says, his fragile hands running down her arms and raising goosebumps. `` I should have traded off my virginity a long time ago, before it came to this. I have come to regret quite a bit in my old age.'' He meets her eye with an impish smile. `` Would you like a blessing, my girl? A blessing of Dian such that no one will ever be able to take it from you?''
He is bone, and atop that bone he is flesh and blood and she blushes and feels his heat. `` N-n-no,'' she stammers. `` M-Master Tersus, what are you saying? You're -'' Too old. Arthritic and creaking and rhuemy, a smile of gums and missing teeth. And beyond that, the potent, pulsing power of his blessing, saved for a hundred years. She feels as if it will blow her apart. `` You ca n't,'' she says at last.
`` Would you rather keep living in fear?'' he says, and his hand traces the straps of her dress, ghosts the curve of her breast. `` For yourself and for me? You said it yourself, my dear girl. It would be perverse to do otherwise.''
No, she wants to say, but the word sticks in her throat. She has bathed him, helped him to the bathroom, seen the knobs of rib and spine. And how long has he seen her back. His hand pulls open her dress, and the chill air touches her chest. Her throat convulses. No. No. No. No.
`` My dear girl,'' he whispers, and snuffs out the candle. `` I will make you divine.''
Out in the courtyard, Lisander touches his hand to the hilt of his sword and puffs out his chest, and stands alert to guard against the gathering dark.
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[ WP ] The year is 2065 . The world still reeling from nuclear fallout , a surviving veteran chronicles how a 2014 Hollywood movie taunting North Korea ignited World War 3 .
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Took me a bit to write this one - going to break it into two comments
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
The members of Los Angeles Subway Shelter 4 gathered around the crackling fire in the ruins of the Vermont Street station, platform 2. It was here that the survivors could enjoy a rare luxury in the atomic wastes of Southern California: a warm night inside an old passenger train, with many of its seats intact.
Seated next to the fire was the Old Man, one of the few old enough to have lived through The Attack itself. He tended to his cast iron skillet sitting atop a Coleman campfire cooking rack that straddled both sides of the campfire. On the menu for this particular evening was pigeon; it's a delicacy given how few of them ever return to the subway lines once they found a means to the surface.
As the rest of the survivors gathered around the fire, the Old Man served each of them a modest serving of meat - transferring the contents of the skillet to the bare hands of the survivors by way of an improvised set of tongs. Following that, each survivor poured themselves a cup of unfiltered, dirty water that had been collected at the broken water main in Union Station the day before.
The Old Man chuckled.
`` Back in my day, people used to bitch about the fluoride the city added to the water supply... To help people's teeth,'' he grumbled. `` And they used to say that these'books' were antiquated...'' The Old Man thumped his well-worn hardback copy of *How to Make Love Like a Porn Star: A Cautionary Tale* by Jenna Jameson, requested by virtually every youngling he'd ever taught how to read. Of all of the books he and the other survivors had rescued from the ruins of the Los Angeles Public Library and from USC's student bookstore, this was only text whose jacket remained intact.
`` That they'd be replaced by eBooks and eLearning... Morons.''
``... Great grandfather,'' one of the younglings began, ``... could you tell us the story of The Attack one more time? I'd like to hear the part about Dennis Rodman again! And Bay of Pigs 2!''
The Old Man laughed. `` Oh Dennis, you've heard this story at least a dozen times...''
`` Pleeeeeeeeeease!'' squealed a chorus of younglings, followed by a string of chuckles from the younger adults.
`` Oh fine. Why not? So you know the back story: James Franco and Seth Rogen, two popular actors in the early 2010s, make a movie - I've explained what those are before, right?''
The younglings nodded enthusiastically.
`` It was called *The Interview* about assassinating Kim Jong Un, the leader of North Korea.''
The Old Man rustled through a small stack of books seated next to his chair and pulled out a faded, wrinkled copy of *Atlas of World Geography*.
`` Here's North Korea right here,'' said the Old Man as he flipped through the oversized pages of the old Rand McNally atlas.
`` People in North Korea in 2014 lived much like we do now - eating rats to stay alive; living in the dark without electricity; and never knowing a world with books, film, television, and the Internet. But the difference was that their things were all taken away by a big mean, man named Kim Jong Un - their leader. And the rest of the world made fun of him and his father before, but this time was different. This time North Korea was determined to establish its seat at the table of world power!'' shouted the Old Man with dramatic flair, pounding his fist onto his map.
`` So we know what happens next? They threaten and intimidate the movie studios and get the movie pulled from distribution. But George Clooney, a famous actor, and George R. R. Martin, the famous author of a wildly popular *Game of Thrones* book and television series defy Kim Jong Un and join forces to rally the people. And it works! The movie goes on! It gets shown! Hundreds of millions of people around the world flocked to the theatres on Christmas Day, 2014 to see the grand opening. Including me - I was at a theater not far from where we are right now.''
`` Humiliated, North Korea turns to its ally from the distant past... Russia. Now you see kids, Vladmir Putin, Russia's leader was humiliated by his own behavior during this same period of time. He defied the West and led an invasion of Ukraine,'' the Old Man flipped to a different page in the Atlas and held it up high for the younglings, who squinted at the worn page from across the fire. `` And when West responded with economic sanctions against Russia, he and his party responded by arrogantly mocking them... But months later the world economy turned against Russia as oil prices and the value of Russia's currency fell. By the end of 2014, imported goods in Russia cost three or four times what they did the year before - and that included the food his people needed to eat. So Russia did what every world leader did at the time: blame the United States.''
`` So Russia and North Korea made a joint announcement, announcing their withdrawal from the United Nations and declaring all UN resolutions regarding their behavior to be null and void. They announced that America was at an end and would no longer play a significant role in world affairs or culture. This was all posturing, of course, to help Russian and North Korean leaders mend and bolster their tough guy images abroad and at home. ``
The Old Man took a long draw from his water bottle before continuing.
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[ OT ] I 'd like to take a moment to appreciate Sir Terry Pratchett .
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Well damn. That's a sad thing to hear. He was an excellent writer, better than excellent. The world's a little less because of it. It's like John Donne's famous line,
*'' No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were; any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee. `` *
It's very sad to hear...
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[ WP ] Every time you fall asleep , you are given two options : Continue or Retry . Continue , you wake up to the next day as usual . Retry , you wake up to the day you just had . The catch : your body remains the same even if you retry a day .
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At first, I was freaked out. As I'm sure any normal 8 year old boy would be if he went to sleep one night, only to be greeted by large white letters spelling out `` Continue or Retry'' hovering over each other. Out my childish fear of something bad happening, I chose the `` Continue'' option. And that's what I stuck to for the next 5 years, blissfully continuing each day onto the next.
My father died on the day of my 13th birthday, a car had swept him off the road while he was using the crosswalk. The doctor said he died upon impact. feeling no if not very little pain. Imagine having your mother burst into tears while you're making your birthday wish, her weeping uncontrollably while holding the phone that had caused her so much pain. When I was told just a short few hours later, it had felt like my entire world had just shattered. Much like my mother, I could n't control the rush of emotions that had erupted from my core, I fell to the ground and started sobbing and shrieking. But not for the same reason my mother had, but because I knew I could have prevented it. I understood why my mother tried to comfort me when I kept muttering between sobs that it was all my fault, I understood why she knelt beside me and cried with me that night.
Then it came to me, I *could* still prevent it. I laid there for what seemed like hours until I was sure my mother had cried herself to sleep, it was then that I made my way up to my bedroom. I crawled into my bed, burying myself beneath the covers, contemplating on whether or not this would end up working, or if I'd have to face the harsh reality of having a deceased father. It did n't take long for the quicksand of slumber to quickly engulf me within its embrace. I peeked from under my blanket to see if it had worked, sure enough the large “ Continue or Retry ” sign was hovering just a few feet away from the foot of my bed.
The small arrow pointed towards the “ Continue ” option, as it had for the past 5 years. This is would be the part where I ’ d only have to close my eyes and drift back to sleep, but this time would be different. I shifted my gaze towards the “ Retry ” option, causing the arrow to move downward to now point at my newly selected option. At this point, my rib cage served as a bongo and my heart served as the musician. I swallowed in an attempt to moisten my dry mouth, and took a deep breath. Now, all there was to do was sleep.
If you want a part 2, just ask and I'll whip it up! Thanks for the prompt.
Edit: Part 2 is up! If any of you are interested in reading this story and more, check out and sub to my new subreddit [ r/OlticWrites ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/OlticWrites/ ). [ Here's part 2! ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/OlticWrites/comments/4qc87u/wp_every_time_you_fall_asleep_you_are_given_two/ )
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[ WP ] This one , this is going to be my last cigarette
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As I inhaled, feeling the nicotine rush to my brain, I knew that this would be my last. The cigarettes... they are what ended me I guess. I started smoking when I was twelve, due to bad parenting and bad choice of friends. Well of course I got addicted. Horribly addicted. The doctors, they warned me. They warned everyone of course, of the dangers. Addiction is a hard thing to fight, so of course no one listened, and cancer started to spread. I have end stage lung cancer, I have two months to live. Why do I continue to smoke? I've asked myself this so many times I dont even know what the question means anymore. Why do we continue to do something, even though we know it will ruin us? I suppose humans are, in essence, flawed. My daughter doesnt know yet, I have n't had the heart to tell her that her father was going to die. I'm all she has left I guess, and her mother... Samantha... she left years ago, when my daughter was young. Come to think of it, I have no family left to take care of her when I do pass. The doctors told me, that I would die in the hospital, probably from asphyxiation. Who *the fuck* tells someone that. Maybe it would be better to end my life now. Before my body goes and im left in a room to die. Maybe it'll be easier for her. Hell i'm already at the bridge. I guess this will really be my last one..
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[ WP ] After a bad breakup , you take Reddit 's famous advice . Lawyer up , hit the gym , delete Facebook . The problem ? You are Mark Zuckerberg .
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Goodbye Cruel Facebook
~
Once fair of face
Now a Monstrous facade
With evil intent
My heart she Clawed
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A facade of Love
So deep and giving
Led me astray
Though I Was willing
~
Now counsel Quickly
Discuss with me
How to keep the Harpy
Facebook free
~
Do so at Once
For reddit counsels thusly
Abs like these
Take a work out More than monthly
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TIME is upon me
To change my status to Single
So I can go forth this night
And begin to Mingle
~
Alas my password
Is long Forgotten
What once was Joy
Has now turned Rotten
~
Unable to move forth
And proceed with Life
When Facebook holds
The visage of my wife
~
Looks to Me
The thing to do
Is hit Delete
A time or Two…
~
Goodbye Cruel Facebook
Fortune mine
Your Rule in this world
Has become a Crime
~
For hearts like Mine
So Bruised and Beat
On my way out
I hit DELETE
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[ WP ] An aging veteran gets dragged to a paintball facility by his grandkids . Another elderly man is there with his grandkids . The two quickly realize they ’ ve faced off on the battlefield before .
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“ But I don ’ t want to invite him! ”
Charlie folded his arms forcefully and stomped his foot on the pavement.
“ …Mom! ”
His mother was ignoring him, busy with the mailbox, which never opened without a fight. She held a bag of groceries in one hand; the other was busy fiddling with the handle. Glancing up, she looked at him distractedly and then back to the mailbox. It seemed to be frozen shut.
“ Mom! ” He repeated.
She stood abruptly and glared at him, releasing a steamy breath out of her nostrils that reminded him distinctly of a cartoon character.
“ Charlie, this isn ’ t up for discussion. ” She turned back to the mailbox and started hitting it gingerly, muttering under her breath.
Her voice was icy. She didn ’ t have time for this, Charlie knew. But hey, it was his birthday party, and it had to perfect. He had to tread carefully.
“ But Moooom, ” he began, ready to make a speech, “ It ’ s my birthday party, and if he comes, then– “
*Slam*.
The mailbox opened with a bang as his Mom thumped the side of it with her hand. She sighed audibly, and reached inside for the mail, drawing out a thin stack of envelopes, which she glanced through quickly. One had a big, red, “ Overdue ” notice stamped across the front. She checked to see if Charlie had seen. He hadn ’ t.
“ —And if there ’ s an old person there, the rest of the kids will – “
“ Charlie. ”
She interjected him, motioning and walking towards their condo –apartment 3A. Charlie followed, pouting. She continued stonily as he caught up to her and took the bag of groceries from her hands.
“ Your grandfather flew in all the way from the other side of the country to be here. Just to see you for your birthday. Just like he ’ s done every year since your father left. What ’ re you going to tell him, that he ’ s not invited? ” She looked at Charlie expectantly. His face was screwed up in pensive thought.
“ Charlie! ”
“ I mean, no but…but he ’ s so *boring*. ”
“ Don ’ t be mean ”, she scolded. “ He ’ s not boring, he ’ s old. And he ’ s coming, so you ’ re just going to have to deal with it. ”
Charlie pursed his lips as they entered the home, hanging up their coats and removing their shoes. Finally he stood in front of his mom, blocking her path. He took a deep breath.
“ Mom. Ellie Russo is gon na be there. ” His eyes shaded over dreamily and his mom put her hand on her hip expectantly. “ She ’ s the love of my life and everything has to be perfect. This is my chance for true love, can ’ t you understand?! Not to mention all the guys will be there, and I can ’ t get embarrassed again, I just can ’ t. If one of my invites is my grandpa, I ’ ll *die*. ”
He waddled after his mom as she rolled her eyes and darted past him, placing the mail and groceries on the table, where she began to unpack. His voice turned steely.
“ Look. Last birthday I had he came and barely said a word. He just awkwardly sat there reading the newspaper, smiling and staring at me. It was weird. So weird. And when it was his turn to bowl, I think he fell asleep for a little when he got to the line! How does that even happen? I never heard the end of it at school... Please, please, please don ’ t put me through that again! ”
His mom chuckled softly and placed a carton of milk in the fridge. Reaching for the next item, she looked at him and smiled softly.
“ You look, Mr. Drama, I ’ m sure for this one he ’ ll probably just sit by the side with me and read the newspaper again. He stays out of your way - he just wants to be there. He loves you and it makes him happy. So let him be happy, all right? ”
“ But what about my happiness? It ’ s *my birthday! * ”
His mom took a deep breath and went over to him, crouching down to his level and placing her hand on his head.
“ My love, ” she began quietly, “ Sometimes it's important to put those you love ’ s happiness before your own. He is doing it for you, though you may not be able to see it right now. Do something for him too, OK? Let him come. You may be surprised at what happens. ” She winked knowingly and finished putting the groceries away, as Charles grumbled and went upstairs.
“ *Probably*, reading the newspaper? ” He asked himself. “ That ’ s all he ever does… ”
**Part 2 to come, along with major badassery**
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[ WP ] You have the ability to bring stuff back from your dreams into reality , but only if your `` dream-self '' is holding them in your hands at the same time you get woken up . Things like a burger , a cool sword or even a precious jewel . However , today you wake up , and can only say `` Uh oh ... ''
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My name is Husain, and I have been dreaming about many things for decades of my life. I was beaten by my mom for not saluting the Large Donut in The Sky, I won a grand prize to see a cockfight in Antarctica, and other nonsensical dreams.
Since five years ago, whenever I woke up while holding something in my dreamworld, I am also holding it in reality. I once dreamed of having a cake for my birthday, and I enjoy red velvet cake that. I once dreamed about getting a ticket, and to my surprise, I have to pay the ticket, because I supposedly ram a traffic light and a car dangling by the power lines. It is odd why I decided to pay, maybe because I hate facing the court, as a victim or as a criminal.
And to my horror, it is also true today.
`` Die, Maisarah! You brought this on yourself!'' I shouted as we exchange fists high on the stratosphere.
`` You have no idea what your actions will bring you, Husain! You will destroy us all!'' My wife is somehow a supervillain, trying to'inoculate the world against the flu to end all human flus', in her own words.
I admit, I am enjoying this. I have no idea fistfighting is my fetish. I punched her pretty face, she punched my groin. I choked her, and she suckerpunched me. But it all come to an end.
Maisarah is falling feet first to slam her stillettos at my face. I deftly rolled away from the attack, and punched her heart clean through. In shock, I realised what I had just done. I jolted awake, to hear the soft murmur of Maisarah's voice, `` Sayang...''.
I gasped in horror. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck...
My tears well up. I want to wail as loudly as I can, but I can only whimper. I apologise to her profusely, while she weakly moves her mouth in protest. If she forgives me, I do n't deserve it. If she curses me, well am I fucking cursed.
I look at my left palm, the hand that I used to punch her heart out. It still beats in my hand, a small bit of nerves pushing the muscles to do its job when it is uselessly disconnected from my wife's body. I do n't know what to do, but one.
I must face the law. I killed my wife, there is no doubt about it. It's pointless to cry about it. I reached for my smartphone. `` Hello, 999?''
I pressed 2. `` Hello, how can I help you?''
`` Please come to my house, I have killed my wife.'' I provided the address. She sounds unperturbed by this. Fifteen minutes later, the police arrives. I place my right hand on my head, letting my left hand stay in my wife's body.
***
It's been twenty years. I wait for my execution date. Many things come out of my hand as I dream. Shovels, pickaxes, cakes, poisonous snakes one day when I dreamt of dying in a snake pit like Ragnar Lothbrok. My country enjoys making their convicts suffer, and so is my mental state.
But one day, I feel the soft caress of Maisarah. She was young, like the day I first met her in university. She asked me about directional derivatives, and I tell her all I know. Soon we tell each other a lot of things. A few flashes later, I know her, biblically.
`` Husain, when your hand is my heart, you must know, I am forgiving you.'' I smiled at her sweet words. Our hands are holding each other. I do not realise that my eyes have opened. There she is, lying on top of me, naked and beautiful, as the day before she died at my hands.
`` AAAAHHHHHH!!!'' I shouted, shoving her off. My shouts grow louder and louder. What is happening? Why is she here? Why ca n't I die yet? Who am I?
***
The guard on that day recounted what he saw. He saw a young woman in a cell with the convict. She had no identification with her. But her memories matched 100 % with the victim of the homicidal case that the man will be executed for. The case that is well closed, had to be reopened.
The case is very odd, and both the former judge residing on the case, and the new judge appointed, ca n't agree whether Husain is really guilty of not. The High King, having heard of this news, grant him a pardon on account of the abnormal circumstances of the case, and after being proven that he could magically bring things by his hands, and not have it by sleepwalking or sleepstealing.
As for my father, Husain, he is a senile gibbering old man, living with a beautiful woman half his age. As her son, I tried asking her about how I came to be, since obviously he can no longer know her. All she said, `` He dreamed of you, of course.''
I dreamt about how my father taught me how to ride a bike. Hah, a senile old man helping me to ride bikes. I woke up as I smiled at the thought. My right hand is holding the handle of a bike on a bike. Oh shit.
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[ WP ] Write the opening and closing Narration of your own Twilight Zone episode .
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*OPENING*
Mr. Smith was n't like most people. He was different. You see, he was ambitious, driven and wanted more out of life than what life would give. He was n't afraid to conquer the world and take on impossible challenges. You see, Mr. Smith was destined for greatness, he knew it, and everybody around him knew it. The world was his for the taking and he was set out to have it all.
& nbsp;
*CLOSING*
Just as the age old saying goes, `` you are your own worst enemy.'' See, even though he had the world in the palm of his hand, Mr. Smith lived out a monotonous and miserable life, never achieving even a fraction of what he had hoped. Lost, stumbling through life and living by the decisions he did n't make rather than the ones he did, Mr. Smith ultimately lived in his own personal Hell; a life in which he had nothing more to show than the average man. Complacency, laziness and a lack of direction doomed him to live out the life he so easily judged others for living.
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[ WP ] everybody on Earth has a tree that represents them . Once that tree dies , that person dies too . You work as a lumberjack .
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I was woken up out of my day dream by the shrill blast of a whistle. My break was over, and it was time to return to the work I so hated. Picking up my massive axe, I felt like death wielding his almighty scythe, and in a way I sort of was. As we lumberjacks sat on the bus on the way to the work site, I got a text from my mom. The text read `` Have a great day at work today, honey. Go keep people safe''. Ironic, I thought. She still believes the lie I made up years ago about me being a police officer, and I wish I believed it to. I hated that job. Showing up everyday and knowing that every swing of the axe brought a person closer to death. It was nearly impossible not to let your mind wonder as you chop down tree after tree.
You start to notice things that give the trees their personality. The long, wide scar that travels the length of the tree, or a weirdly deformed branch as a result of a knot halfway up the tree.
Thwack, thwack, thwack.
I imagined this tree in particular to be lovely old man, with a cheerful smile and one who always wears a bowtie to Sunday brunch with his grandkids: Tommy, Joseph, and Leah.
Thwack, thwack, thwack.
One who always put his children first. Thwack. One who loved and revered his wife until the day she died. Thwack. Maybe she was a tree here when I first started with the company. Thwack.
With one last swing of the axe, I watched the mighty oak hang in the balance for a moment, and topple over. I had just killed someone.
`` Next tree, Tommy. Quit standing around'', bellowed my supervisor.
I feel my phone buzz and I look down, it's my mom again.
`` Tommy, I have some terrible news...''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
This is my first story on reddit, thought I'd give it a go. I'd love some feedback
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[ WP ] You are the last human alive but you are immortal . You meet Death who wants his retirement .
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I focused on the story through the perspective of Death -- after about halfway through realized I had a lapse in my command of the English language while reading the prompt. Finished anyway. Also, made Death female because why not?
Criticism welcome!
-- -
`` Well, that's the last of them. Can I move on now?''
The archangels at the pearly gates stood steadfast though. Unmoving, unflinching. They mocked her in their certainty of purpose.
`` What's the point of a reaper after the End Times?'' Death, the final Death, was exasperated. Her predecessors had paved the way, to be sure, but none had known the weight -- no -- the *burden* that total annihilation would be. Ferrying souls at this magnitude had taken its toll. Death had become old and bitter. She had long ago stopped taking pride or even the slightest bit of joy in her work. She had taken to unenthusiastically ripping souls away and consuming them in the blackness of her being. Most souls reported seeing a light after being consumed. Death did n't even take enjoyment in the gastronomical irony anymore. She was done. Ready to be moved on to her next purpose.
`` Alright, give me a meeting then. Michael, Peter, anyone?''
Death sighed back at the pointed silence. Heaven was clearly punishing her, but Heaven could n't punish. So Heaven ignored. What had she done *this* time?
She looked down, through the veil of ignorance that ripped knowledge from souls as they passed down to earth, past the traffic of angels and demons squabbling over patches of existence and moments in time as children at play, and realized that a solitary soul still existed on the burning ember that was once paradise for existence. But... How? She was certain that she had successfully gone through every moment, every inch of earth and ferried all souls to their proper place. No life ought to be, and yet...
`` Ah, you see it then, sister? We have a holdout.'' The voice was Lucifer's, newly redeemed and appointed Heaven's spokesman on Earth.
`` Do you know why he still lives, sister? I'll tell you, but only if you'll agree to take me with you on this final reaping.''
Death considered his request. Though redeemed, Lucifer still held strong to his old ways. All in Heaven knew he was planning something -- why else all the demon activity? -- but so it had been proclaimed that his place was again in Heaven.
`` Fine, brother-of-the-light. Tell me why this soul stays on in an existence which has long since rejected it?''
`` Quite simple, my dreary-sister: I gave him life eternal.''
What was Lucifer thinking? Was this a holdout from his fallen days, or was this the ploy somehow? Death did n't want to know too much. She stared at Lucifer, her sunken, black eyes measuring him for any sign of wavering, any sign of remorse.
`` Well, then, let us go UN-immortalize this soul, shall we?''
Death leaped forth and enshrouded Lucifer and herself in a blackness which simulated the veil's transport, but none of its ignorance. They appeared in the middle of a steppe, with the last man sitting at the edge, peering out at the fiery world around him as it crumbled.
`` Ah, so you finally come. Death, I take it?'' Turning to Lucifer, he remarked `` I should never have made that bargain with you. Life is much harder without end. Especially now.''
`` You must come with me, old one. Whatever bargain you struck with Lucifer has been rendered void. Time is ending. The eternal life beyond awaits you.'' Death put on her best mystical voice. Old souls like this one appreciated the pomp and circumstance of an appointed one of Heaven.
He was not the first soul she encountered who had here-to-fore escaped Death -- previous Deaths. Other Deaths had been ordered to maintain the balance, and so had sometimes struck deals or arrangements with mortals who feared the end. She had no such sympathy. Time was up, for all.
`` Sorry sister-of-graves, but you shall not take me. Your angel friend and I had a deal, and I kept my end. My gift, for better or worse, is eternally living on this plane.''
Death was fed up. She lept forth to consume this soul but was repelled -- who could repel Death?
`` It is as he says, master of graves. You have no power over this one.'' Lucifer stood in the background, grinning. This had to be a ploy of some kind.
`` What is this really, you demon-breeding abomination? Why ca n't I move this soul?''
`` Very well, you took me with you to witness this moment, so I shall elucidate further. The last man here is empowered, you see, as the whole of all life on this plane. Should I make it clearer?''
Death felt unease for the first time since she herself had died so many eons ago, and been lifted into a higher existence where she *was* death and need not fear it.
`` Our existence was precipitated on the faith of the mortals. Him who resides in Heaven is ferrying all souls to His plane in the hopes that their eternal worship will at least maintain Heaven for time eternal. But he's wrong, you know. The last man holds our existence by a thread -- as you can not reap your own soul, so you can not reap his. He is now burdened with the faith which holds us, sister, and he alone controls us.''
Death glared at the last man, who now looked up. He looked through the veil. He saw Heaven. He smiled longingly.
`` But, enough then of our poor Death's dilemma. You now realize your curse, do you not? God himself will not free you from this existence.'' Lucifer's light seemed to fade -- he slowly changed into an appearance more like Death, or one of the Fates.
`` I know a way out though. A way for you to be unburdened. You must believe, as you have never believed before, that existence will start over again. Set the stakes anew, reset it all.'' His hands rested on the last man's shoulders. This was the ploy all along -- the redemption, convincing life to end itself as it had, en masse -- Satan had wanted faith to become a single cursed soul's burden.
`` What will happen to me?''
Satan smiled, his grin extending just a little too far for comfort.
`` Why, we are all given a new chance. Each choice you made was made freely -- maybe you can choose anew? Maybe we can all find ourselves a different fate. If you imagine the world without destiny that is.''
The last man paused, and seemed to enter into a waking dream, imagining the worst of his choices being made anew, with better consequences. He was starting to wish it. He was starting to believe it.
Death lept forth to intervene, to stop, to end the madness. She did not want to...
She wanted...
...
A white light flashed. The soul which had burdened with the title of Death passed through the veil anew, and was placed in a newborn baby girl to two young parents, unsure of how to raise their daughter, but determined to make her life a good one.
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[ EU ] In your favourite fictional universe , the villain won . It 's one year later .
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It had been one year since the Avengers were defeated. Manhattan had been devastated by the nuke, but it made no difference. More Chitauri had entered through the portal. The Earth was in ruin, whole cities reduced to craters. Nothing stood in Loki's way. Except that's not quite true. The Avengers had been some of the most well-known heroes, but there were other heroes, such as Ghost Rider, Black Panther, the Punisher, Captain Marvel, the Inhumans, and the Defenders. None of these stood a chance alone against Loki, mind you, because the most powerful reinforcements were just coming to Earth.
The Milano flew over what remained of New York.
`` This is where you come from? ``, Rocket asked, `` what a dump!''
`` I am Groot'', Groot agreed.
`` Well, it was different when I left'', Star Lord said.
Suddenly, a red blur passed the ship.
`` What was that? ``, Rocket asked.
`` Can I kill it? ``, Drax asked.
`` No idea, and not yet'', Star Lord answered. He jumped out of the Milano and landed on the ground. The rest of the Guardians soon followed. In front of them stood a man clad in a dark red jumpsuit with two D's on the chest.
`` You do n't seem familiar'', he said, `` and you're not Chitauri, so who the hell are you?''.
`` I'm Star Lord, a legendary space outlaw, and these are Groot, Drax, Rocket, and Gamora'', he said.
`` My name is Matt Murdock, but you can call me Daredevil'', the man explained, `` I'm a superhero''.
`` What the hell happened to this planet? ``, Star Lord asked.
`` In 2012, we were invaded by a god and an army of aliens'', Daredevil said.
`` There's no such thing as go-'', Star Lord started, before seeing the crucifix around the blind hero's neck, `` I'm gon na shut up now''
`` 40 percent of humanity was destroyed'', Daredevil continued, `` the rest were either forced into slavery or joined the resistance. By the way, why do two of your friends smell like a tree and a raccoon?''
`` Because that's what they are'', Star Lord said.
`` I'm surrounded by psychos! ``, Daredevil exclaimed.
`` Who you callin a raccoon? ``, Rocket asked, pointing a comically large cannon in Daredevil's direction.
`` I am Groot'', Groot said.
`` You've got to be kidding me'', Daredevil muttered, `` c'mon back to my base before the Chitauri find us''.
They headed into the sewer, where they walked for hours until they reached a small room. Inside, there were other humans. There was a tall, well built man wearing a yellow hoodie, a strange man in a green leotard with a dragon tattoo on his chest, and a seemingly average human female.
`` These are Luke Cage, Iron Fist, and Jessica Jones'', Daredevil said, before turning to the other Defenders, `` these are Star Lord, Drax, Gamora, Groot the tree, and Rocket Raccoon''. The Defenders freaked out for a minute, but then calmed down.
`` Are you the only resistance members? ``, Gamora asked.
`` Yeah, and are n't two of you supposed to be droids? ``, Star Lord joked, `` too soon?''.
`` No, we are n't the only resistance members'', Luke Cage said, `` there are other pockets of resistance scattered around the world. The closest is a few miles into the ocean''.
`` Then we should contact them'', Drax said.
`` We ca n't'', Jessica said, `` communications are down and we ca n't get there without being seen by the Chitauri''.
`` I can help with that'', Star Lord said, `` To the Milano!'' He led them to the Milano, which was under attack by a tall, caped mechanoid.
`` Forgot about me, yes? ``, the mechanoid said, `` you still owe me 12,000 units!''
`` Who's that guy? ``, everyone but Star Lord asked.
`` That's Death's Head, he's a freelance peacekeeping agent I once worked with'', Star Lord explained, `` he's mad because I almost got him killed and took all the money''.
`` Freelance what-keeping agent? ``, Iron Fist asked.
`` A bounty hunter'', Star Lord muttered, `` but do n't tell him I said that, he hates that word''.
`` Give me the units, or your friends die, Quill'', Death's Head threatened.
`` How about I hire you for a job instead'', Star Lord said. Death's Head lowered his firearm.
`` I'm listening'', the peacekeeping agent said.
The damage to the Milano kept it from going into space, but Death's Head agreed to help them take down the Chitauri. Star Lord flew the Milano over the ocean, where the nearby rebel base apparently was.
`` The ocean? Really? Since when do we have fish people on this planet? ``, Star Lord asked.
`` With the exception of Namor, we do n't'', Daredevil said, `` but there are fellow rebels down there''. The group of heroes ( and Death's Head ) jumped out of the starship, and landed on something hard. What was seemingly just a few waves revealed itself to be the S.H.I.E.L.D. Hellicarrier. Nick Fury himself came to greet them.
`` Murdock, you I know, who the hell are the others? ``, the director demanded.
`` These are Star Lord, Luke Cage, Jessica Jones, Iron Fist, Gamora, Drax, Rocket Raccoon, Groot, and Death's Head'', Daredevil introduced, `` they're with me''. Nick Fury lead them into the Hellicarrier, which was heavily damaged and unable to fly. Inside, there were a few S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents: Maria Hill, Mockingbird, and Zombie Coulson. They got introductions out of the way fairly rapidly, and then moved on to repairing the communications array, which Rocket accomplished pretty quickly.
`` Good'', Director Fury said, `` Agent Hill, contact the other rebels''. Agent Hill went over to a console, and pressed a button. A large screen appeared, depicting the S.H.I.E.L.D. Superhuman database. Many of the names were marked deceased, but a scant few were alive.
`` Contact Johnny Blaze, Namor, Frank Castle, T'Challa, Carol Danvers, and the Maximoff twins'', Fury ordered, `` give them our location, but have the weapon systems online in case the Chitauri intercept the message.''
`` What do we do now? ``, Star Lord asked.
`` We wait. ``, Fury replied. Weeks went by, and there was n't even a blip on the radar. After a month, a speedboat engulfed in flames rocketed towards the Hellicarrier at unbelievable speeds. It docked next to the Hellicarrier, and Ghost Rider stepped out.
`` Hello Fury'', he said to the director, `` assembling a team again, are we?''
`` Not exactly'', Fury replied, `` we're going to take down the Chitauri, no matter the cost''. Stan Bush's The Touch started playing.
`` Sorry'', Star Lord said, `` could n't resist''.
Not long after Ghost Rider, Captain Marvel landed on the Hellicarrier, attracting the attention of most of the males on board. Two hours later, the Maximoff twins arrived on foot, seeing as Pietro could run on water. Then, T'Challa, the Black Panther, arrived on a small plane. Before long, every hero in the S.H.I.E.L.D. database had arrived. Nick Fury explained the plan.
`` Loki has turned Norway into a palace called'New Asgard''', Fury announced, `` He has moved the portal to it as well. T'Challa, Doctor Pym, and Pietro will quietly take down the guards. Then, you will make your way to the uppermost part of the palace and set off a flare. When we see the flare, Danvers, Blaze, Death's Head, and the Guardians of the Galaxy will begin an aerial bombardment. If that does n't destroy the portal, then the rest of us will launch a full scale attack on the building. Do you understand?''
Two days later, they began the plan. Quicksilver, Ant Man, and Black Panther arrived at New Asgard. They made their way through the building and silently killed all of the guards. Then they launched the flare. The problem was, it also alerted the Chitauri and Loki to their location. They were instantly attacked. Quicksilver ran around some Chitauri with enough speed to create a tornado, sucking many of them in. To avoid injury, Ant Man turned giant and grabbed Black Panther. Then Loki showed up. He blasted the tornado at the precise moment Pietro was in range, sending the supersonic human sprawling. Ant Man tried to step on the villainous god, but Loki teleported, and stabbed him in the side. Black Panther jumped out of the falling giant's hand and threw six vibranium daggers at Loki, two of which stabbed him in the shoulder. Screaming in pain, Loki punched Black Panther hard enough to shatter his ribcage.
`` Face it human, you have lost'', Loki smirked.
`` Not yet, here comes back up'', T'Challa said. As if on cue, Ghost Rider, Death's Head, Captain Marvel, and the Milano descended from the clouds, and opened fire on the palace, killing numerous Chitauri and knocking Loki off his feet. They swooped towards the device generating the portal, and attacked it. The problem was, the device was surrounded by a force field.
`` It did n't work'', Star Lord said, contacting Fury, `` begin the attack''.
The Defenders, Scarlet Witch, the Punisher, some other heroes, and the entirety of S.H.I.E.L.D. attacked New Asgard.
`` Do you actually think that you puny humans can defeat a god? ``, Loki laughed. He fired a beam from his staff, destroying a few tanks and injuring Namor.
`` Yes'', Daredevil said, hitting the villain with the Billy Club. Luke Cage smashed Loki's face into the floor. Then, Groot descended from the Milano and grew to immense. He proceeded to push Luke Cage out of the way and step on Loki multiple times. While they were doing that, Scarlet Witch, Agent Coulson, and Jessica Jones made their way to the force field. Wanda fired hex bolts at the force field. When that did n't work, she cast a spell of intangibility on herself and her teammates. They walked through the force field and tore the tesseract from the device. The portal disappeared, and the Chitauri all over the world perished.
A defeated Loki crawled out of the rubble, injured. He was captured by S.H.I.E.L.D. and put into cryogenic stasis below the Earth's surface. The Defenders, Ghost Rider, Captain Marvel, the twins, and Death's Head formed a new team of Avengers. The entire planet began reconstruction. Superhero teams were formed in multiple countries, such as Big Hero 6 in Japan, Alpha Flight in Canada, and Excalibur in England. But despite the protection, the Earth would never be completely safe.
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[ WP ] We have the technology to upload a persons mind into a clone . The clones only last 24 hours though . Your original body died long ago , and every day you have to swap out to a new body .
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Consciousness. We used to cherish it when we had our biological bodies. Once your body dies out and your uploaded to the Skye, you do n't feel anything. Not physically anyway.
When Skye was put out by HueMan Industries, it changed the way everyone saw a life. Life expectancy did n't matter, we were able to recreate some of the most brilliant minds that have ever lived. Then HueMan released the Bodi. A vessel that your mind could upload into. A clone using a scan of your DNA that's copied from your consciousness. At first I was like everyone else, I believed in it. That I could save my consciousness on a hard drive. People could live without cancer or diabetes. The law changed, insurance policies changed, the internet is literally it's own world with a bunch of minds being thrown around. It did n't take long before I grew tired of it. I use my Bodi every once in a while but It does n't feel as real as if used to. I like to see how people customize them. With their perfect printed tattoos, piercings, their fake hair that grows over night, some prefer to make their Bodis look like they used. I like to change it up a bit. I only use it to pretend like I'm not looking through a window every day. Eventually, it got to the point where I kept asking myself if this was really me. That was the part that I hated because the truth would set in. Within 24 hours your Bodi dies. At the end of the day, you plug up to your HueMan Industries Mind Hub. Once you're completely uploaded, your clone's lifeless body drops to the floor a and decays within 6 hours. Some people surf the internet, others go shopping online but I just watch my Bodi decay in the BodiTub. The chemicals eating the flesh as hair, nails, and teeth roll down the drains. Even though I ca n't really die, it reminds of how precious my real body used to be and why death is appropriate. It reminds me that we all once had a soul. Now, it's a file.
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[ IP ] The Adventures of Murphy Jetson !
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`` Murph! We're losing power to the starboard thrusters! We ca n't take another hit like that!'' Kelsen's voice rang out above the din of the control room.
The red and yellow emergency lights of the cruiser flashed, and klaxons blared. Sparks showered the control panel where Kelsen sat, frantically trying to divert power to keep the ship stable. The *Crusado Plata* was going to fall apart in the atmosphere.
`` Murph! What do we do?!'' Kelsen shouted again, wiping a sheet of sweat off his forehead.
Iridescent beams of violet light sprayed ahead of the ship, just missing the bow. Explosions popped all around, and the hull quaked from the near miss.
Murphy Jetson let out a short bark, and trotted over to Kelsen. With one magnificent leap, he landed on the ship's console. He turned to Kelsen, his canine face lined with dogged determination.
Kelsen stared back, terrified. He tried to swallow, but could n't. `` Is this it, Murph?!'' His voice croaked, and he sat back into his chair. The burly cadet nodded to himself. `` We did all we could. If it has to end now, I'm glad I was able to serve you one last time.''
Murphy Jetson let out a short bark. The Chihuahua's short fur was matted with plasma scoring and grease. The glass of his trademark Star Crusader goggles had began to crack in a spiderweb. Every dog had its day, and to Kelsen it looked like he was about to witness the end of a legend.
Bright violet streaked in front of them as the *Crusado Plata* hurtled down toward's the planets surface, the Imperial Vultures in hot pursuit. Kelsen could see through the parting clouds volcanic ash spewing from a nearby mountain. Lava trickled down its lofty peak into the turquoise waters below.
`` Well, at least we'll die in a beautiful place, huh?'' Kelsen stared off into the viewscreen. `` It could be worse.'' He had to brace himself against the console as the ship shook and shuddered violently.
Murph looked to the viewscreen and back to Kelsen, licking his chops. He wagged his tail. To veterans of the *Crusado Plata*, the wag meant one thing: Murphy had a plan.
With a startling quickness Murphy lunged and bit into Kelsen's right arm. The cadet shrieked in pain, and jerked his arm back, pulling the control stick back and right. The ship took a sharp banking turn. The volcano was square in their sights.
`` Murph?! What was that fo --'' Kelsen looked up at the viewscreen and gasped. A devilish smile crept onto his face. `` You crazy son-of-a-bitch.''
Murph's tail wagged, and he butted Kelsen's arm with his forehead. The ship jerked to the left just in time, as a Vulture missile whizzed past, slamming into the side of the volcano and spewing molten ash into the sky.
`` Here we go Murph! Let's do this!'' Kelsen steadied the ship and squared his bearings to speed straight toward the volcano. Murphy Jetson let two barks.
The *Crusado Plata* disappeared into the billowing smoke and ash of the volcano, the two Vultures hot on its tail.
Every dog has its day. But Murphy Jetson was n't just any dog.
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[ WP ] You 're a Tinkerer , a person that can create highly advanced technology . Because of this , you 're wanted by a lot of people . What they do n't know however , is that you 're are n't like the others . You ca n't make cool guns or giant robots . Instead , you make kitchen appliances .
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Baron von Baron took long strides along the room in front of me, his dress shoes making rhythmic clicks across the concrete floor. His black cloak billowed around him as he paced, the rich, dark fabric making his pale skin look as though it were glowing. His presence in the room was enough to set a chill in the air; each time he passed in front of me, I felt my skin prickle.
Meanwhile, I sat bound to a chair by rope so thick that I thought it might be strong enough to support the weight of a small country. A hanging, flickering light swung above us, which, despite the dire circumstances, I could not help but find about as annoying as a housefly.
`` You know why you are here, yes?'' the Baron asked.
I hesitated, then nodded.
`` I need a weapon that will help me destroy my enemies, and I know you can make this for me. I have been searching for years, but I finally caught one of you,'' he glanced at me. `` You will lead me to victory.''
He stopped his pacing and smiled a smile completely devoid of warmth. I remained silent. His smile quickly disappeared and an annoyed look took over his face. `` Well? What was your last invention, Tinkerer?''
`` I... er, I made a machine that produces beams of electromagnetic radiation to cook things,'' I responded slowly.
The Baron's eyes lit up. `` Like someone's head?''
My mouth twisted. Confused, I said, `` No, like a burrito.''
`` A burrito... You are talking of food?! What use is that to me?''
I shrugged.
Bewildered, Baron von Baron stared at me, his mouth slightly agape. `` What was your creation before that?''
`` It was a machine that slowly warmed and burned using electricity—''
`` Ahh, yes! Like a more modern version of a brazen bull,'' he interrupted. `` Now that is ideal! How many people can fit inside it?'' he asked, his smile returning.
Once again, I was left perplexed. `` No, it was used on things like bread. You may have heard of it; it's called a toaster?''
`` A *toaster*? Of course I've heard of a toaster! Who has n't heard of that? You did n't invent that!''
`` Oh no, no, of course not. I just built a more efficient one,'' I explained nervously.
The Baron was staring at me again. A vein was popping out along his forehead. `` Okay, I have to ask: you *are* a Tinkerer, yes?''
`` Yes,'' I said, my voice breaking as I did.
`` Okay, what was your last *original* invention?''
I thought about it. `` Well... a few months ago, I made a machine with blades so sharp they could cut through any sort of—''
`` Bone? Flesh? Bank vault doors?'' the Baron asked hurriedly, a hungry gleam in his eyes.
`` —fruit,'' I finished lamely.
The Baron slammed his fist against the nearest wall, put his head down, and closed his eyes. After a moment, he said quietly, `` Are you talking about a blender?''
`` Oh god, no! I'm talking about a smoothie machine.''
I watched as the Baron's white face turned as red as any apple my smoothie machine could blend up. Finally, he opened his eyes and said, `` Are you capable of making anything other than kitchen appliances?''
`` I think so, Mr. von Baron,'' I said, feeling uncertain.
`` Please, call me Baron,'' he said distractedly. `` So, if I told you I need you to invent something that can be harnessed to serve the greater evil, something that perhaps involves heat... maybe even oil...'' he trailed off, his eyes glazing over with a dreamy look.
I leaned forward as much as my binding would allow, excited at the prospect of pleasing my captor. `` I think I made something like that once. It's a big pot of hot oil that you drop things into to—''
`` That's a deep fryer.''
I paused. `` No, I ca n't make anything that's not a cooking appliance.''
Baron von Baron sighed. `` Well... while you're here, you can at least fix up my kitchen.''
-- -- -
\ # 7. I'm still very new to writing, so criticisms would be extremely appreciated!: )
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[ WP ] Your whole life you 've been able to see other dimensions through mirrors . It was always interesting to see the other dimensions and their variations , that is until all the mirrors started to black out .
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Strange. The office bathroom usually reflected a version of me as a cowboy, but there's nothing now. Like complete darkness.
I turned to my friend Phil and asked, `` Hey Phil, is there something wrong with this mirror?''
Phil shook his head. `` The only thing wrong with it is that ugly face of yours.''
`` Thanks pal.'' I was the only one who could see the variations so nothing about the mirror was unusual to Phil. He could see the reflection just fine normally, so why was it gone for me?
Curious, I made my way to the next mirror. The one above the sink. In this one I was a cyborg from what I recalled. However, it was pitch black as well.
`` Phil, you sure there's nothing wrong with the mirrors?''
`` Nah man, if you're worried you gained a little weight, its your fault. Do n't blame the mirrors.'' He replied as he began to wash his hands in front of the mirror where everybody was a jelly-like humanoid. He looked at his reflection and smiled a bit to check his teeth.
I started washing my hands as well. `` No man, its not that. Remember that one time I told you I could see weird shit in the mirrors, like an alternate reality?''
`` Did n't you tell me that when we were smoking something?''
`` I was being serious, I can see different realities and shit.''
`` You sure you have n't been smoking on company time?''
`` I'm employee of the month Phil.'' I gave him an annoyed look.
`` Okay so you're not on something right now. Let's say I believe you. What's different now?''
`` The mirrors, they're all blacked out. I ca n't see anything in them anymore, not even myself.''
`` For real?'' Phil pulled a paper towel and wiped his hands dry.
`` Yeah not a thing, its like looking in a black hole except there's nothing.''
`` Well, you sure there is n't anything in them? Maybe you're not looking hard enough.'' Phil suggested. I turned my gaze to the mirror and tried looking around. Phil saw me take his advice seriously and gave a little half smile. `` You trying to play me real hard man. That ai n't cool.''
I continued to stare into the abyss, trying to find some sort of sign or something that could explain why this was happening. Then I noticed it, a discoloration. There were lighter parts on the mirror than the rest of it. `` Hey, you got like a highlighter with you or something?'' I asked Phil. Phil rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a pink highlighter. `` Really Phil?''
`` I borrowed it from the lady at the front desk this morning.'' Phil said.
`` Ah, whatever.'' I began to trace over the lighter parts of the darkness and an image soon formed. What was left was a handprint made from highlighter. I turned to Phil and we both remained silent. I went to the next mirror and did the same thing, but this time something else showed up.
*HELP*
`` That's pretty artistic of you man, but do n't you think the joke's gone a little far? I'm a little creeped out right now.'' Phil said nervously. I went to the last mirror and found the last message.
*RUN*
The lights flickered and the walls rumbled. Phil looked at me. `` C'mon man, this seriously is n't cool. I've been binge watching horror shit on Netflix. This is a prank right?''
`` No its not Phil, I think we should actually ru-''
The mirror I was in front of cracked and knocked both of us on our asses. Five huge lumps protruded from the mirror as shards fell off them. `` What the hell is that shit!'' Phil shouted while pointing to the mirror.
`` I-I do n't know,'' I stammered, but then I noticed a terrifying pattern. `` I-its a, its a hand Phil. I think something tried to grab us.''
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[ FF ] In no more than 200 words , write a riveting science fiction drama incorporating the sentences below :
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`` Frank, there is no way I'm gon na let you put that thing *there*.''
`` Oh, really?'' said Frank. `` Why's that? Mark, he let me put this thing here.''
`` That's up to Mark. I'm not Mark. Mark is nowhere to be seen. So, no. Bad Frank. No!''
`` Alright, fine.''
Frank's dejected eyebrows managed to maintain their bushy magnificence as they folded towards the fuzzy electronic ground.
The loading bay's side entrance was flung open and the silhouette of an Elf made Frank's eyebrows reach for the heavens. As it so happened, they were currently several lightyears'above' the heavens, but you'd be forgiven for thinking Frank was happy about seeing the Elf.
`` Are n't the Elves supposed to be hibernating at this time of year?'' asked Frank in a slightly-too-loud whisper.
`` I just woke up,'' said the Elf. `` And I had a great sleep, thanks for asking. Now where the hell did I leave the thing? Has anyone seen it?''
Frank quickly pulled the thing from out of where he had put it and hid it behind his back. He glanced towards Geoff and offered him a covert wink.
`` My intuition's telling me that the nearest IHOP is about five hundred kicks to the east,'' explained the Elf. `` And if I'm right, I'm going to need the thing. S.T.A.T.''
`` Who spells out'stat'?'' Frank asked.
`` Um, are n't Elves supposed to be, like, y'know, wise?'' asked Geoff.
`` How do you mean?''
`` There's no east in space. That does n't make sense. And even if there was an IHOP five hundred kicks from here, the thing would n't save us. Not after where you've been putting it, ey Frank?''
Frank and Geoff laughed while the Elf scowled at them.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
*Damn... 284. Do I lose karma? *
Edit: new to reddit and not used to making newlines..
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[ WP ] He finally said it : I 'm proud of you , son .
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He picked up my Silver Star out of a cardboard box on the floor. `` Why's this in a box on the floor? You should display this.''
I mumbled something about not having gotten around to doing so yet.
`` You know, I'm proud of you, son.'' He finally said it. `` The army has really made you into a real man.''
I wanted to scoff, `` A real man? Is that what a real man does - shoots a twelve-year old boy who's known nothing but war and famine since birth... who's been indoctrinated to believe America is the enemy... who learned to carry an AK-47 when my own boys were learning how to hit a baseball?''
I took the medal from my father's hands and put it back in the box. I did n't like looking at it. I felt conflicted. I may have saved my unit, but that did n't make it any less sad or tragic that a young boy lost his life by my hand.
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[ WP ] War breaks out between the legions of hell and heaven , humanity joins and surprisingly is winning against both
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... And then it happens, fucking *immediately* after the tremors stop we hear it, I mean we we're brave and shit once we realized what we were actually fighting? But at that moment? Christ, the bottom fell out of my stomach and reality followed it when I heard that *sound*.
It sounded like the maw of hell opening up, it sounded like Satan grunting to take a shit. It sounded like a bunch of demons roaring into the corporeal dimensions, coming to run a train on us.
Because it fucking *was*, dude.
We were all fucking terrified for the next 5 minutes, radio chatter, apparently it was global, SHAPE and air command reporting massive heat signatures everywhere, spreading and closing in.
> Hitman 1 come in this OPSEC command, you're 1 of 2 armored units in your area. Satellite shows massive heat signatures approaching. Please confirm eyes on.
We pulled back about 600 metres to the top of the ridge and go hull down, lining it up so our hull is out of LoS behind the crest of the hill. Fucking tank design rocks dude, at this point all we are is a foot-and-a-half tall sliver on the horizon.
We're expecting like aliens or some shit, and that's pretty much what we got. This massive *thing* breaks the tree line 3 km away.
> *TARGET! 4-POINT-2, 1, 1, 3, LOAD! AP! *
> ON TARGET!
The sweet sound of canned destruction slamming home in the breach. *KA-CHUNK*
> FIRE!
A 2 foot long, ultra-dense depleted-uranium spike gets punted with enough muzzle force to break nearby windows ( if there were any ). It reached the target in about half a second.
It reached the valley behind the target in about 3s, splashing into the far bank with a poof of smoke.
A poof of smoke visible through the massive hole torn in the chest cavity of this 3 story tall fucker. Turns out demons have shit for ablative armor.
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[ WP ] On their 18th birthday , it is tradition that young adults must walk through a long underground tunnel as a Rite of Passage . While walking through the tunnel , you discover the supernatural meaning behind the tradition .
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You almost ca n't see the end. Standing at the end, it's like staring down the barrel of a gun. But that comparison does n't even come close, not in the least bit.
A gun is made of metal. It's inanimate. But that place, it's like nothing understandable by the human mind.
Scientifically, the tunnel is just that. A tunnel. A concrete passage, left behind from the civilizations of the days of old, upon which we structure our society. It is measurable in distance and depth and width, in temperature and pressure. But no one can tell you the way the walls breathe.
They say it's a rite of passage, that everyone does it when it's their time. But nobody ever comes out unchanged.
The first step is easy. The second too. You can see the walls stretching forward. You can hear your friends and family, still encouraging you on repeat in the back of your mind. Your thoughts are optimistic and you're headed towards adulthood.
After some time, the tunnel is a little more foreboding. Darkness shrouds the walls with its thin wispy fingers. The cheers in your head have died down. If you turn around now, you could still see the light of day behind you. But you do not dare look back. Looking back only makes the trek forward more difficult, you will be drawn like a moth to the light, even if you do n't know it.
This is the point the mind dips.
The tunnel continues on, past your view, it's own horizon of empty abyss. Your footsteps echo around you off of the cold, unforgiving cement. Maybe at this point, you first realize just how alone you are, just how far from any single person you are, just how much earth there is between you and the light your mind desires.
The tunnel converges slightly as you walk. It is n't small, per say, but the ceiling is low and the sides are narrow, your head may graze the concrete now and again, your shoulders are cramped uncomfortably tight. The shadows hang from the concrete in inky pools and cling to any surface that passes through.
Perhaps now you consider heading back, calling it quits, and trying again some other time. The entrance is but a blemish of light on the face of darkness. But for some reason you continue.
The darkness is heavy now. You can *feel* it. Dragging you in. Swallowing you. Devouring everything. Behind you, the tunnel ends in a pinprick of white hope. You pause momentarily.
Nothing can prepare you for absolute darkness. Nothing. You may have been in a room before, with the shades drawn and the door closed, then flicked off the light. You may have even closed your eyes and sat in silence inside. Maybe you ca n't see your hand inches from your face.
This is the point the mind bends.
You take another step forward. The light on the horizon behind you winks away, or rather, the darkness opens its eye. Your footstep echoes all around you. This is no longer a game. With each breath, you exhale hope. You close your eyes. You open them. You ca n't tell the difference. You belong to the tunnel now.
Even worse, you would expect silence here. You stand still, hold your breath. The tunnel whispers to you. The wind laughs. Your heart is chasing you through the dark, and gaining fast.
Time is nonexistent here. The blackness surrounds you entirely. It weighs you down, the air is made of lead. Maybe you scream, maybe you do n't. You ca n't hear it anyways.
You stumble through the darkness. You ca n't tell where you end and the tunnel begins.
This is the point the mind breaks.
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[ WP ] An executioner has been given free rein to kill his subjects however he likes , as long as it is quick . He happens to be extremely imaginative .
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`` Does n't it seem cruel?'' The warden asked. `` To give them a taste of freedom.''
The executioner holstered his pistol and shrugged, his light blue eyes staring down the man who laid in the grass with blood beginning to pool beneath his face. `` Not for this one. He never knew it was all a farce.''
`` Yes but you still made him think we were going to let him walk free.'' The warden argued. `` Before you shot him in the back of the head.''
`` Yes, but for those last few moments he felt grass, saw the sun, felt the weight of prison off his shoulders.'' The executioner nodded, `` I felt he deserved to feel that one last time.''
`` And why is that?'' The Warden asked.
`` Good behavior. He felt sorry for what he did, his was a crime of passion when he gunned those three men down, a lapse of judgment.''
`` Yes, but still a crime that deserved its justice.''
The executioner tapped the pistol on his hip, `` Well I did kill him, after all.''
`` And what if you did n't feel he deserved it?'' The Warden asked.
The executioner sighed, `` Well I would have shot him in the face, not the back of the head. I'd square him up first, he'd see me. He'd know my intention. And he would have realized the taste of freedom was a lie. His hopes risen one last time before sinking to a despair even lower than on death row.''
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[ WP ] After another depressing day of harvesting souls , you , the Grim Reaper , decide to commit suicide . What do you write in your note ?
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I am Death, I have been walking the Earth for as long as humans, I have watched civilisations born and die. I have helped more souls pass into the afterlife than I can remember. But today I am done, I can ’ t do it anymore, I am done with humanity.
I sat with the little girl as she died, it says a lot about humanity that I was the kindest face she had ever seen. She looked up at me, looked at the skull face within my hood and she smiled and reached out to hold my hand. We sat together in that small box as she took her dying breaths, I stroked her hair, then put my hands over her ears so she couldn ’ t hear the adults screaming curses at each other outside.
She was alive and she had no more flesh on her bones than I did, they had starved her and pushed her into a box with only rags for a bed, and left her to die. I took small comfort that she smiled at me as she took her final breaths. I squeezed her hand as her breath stopped for ever and I set her soul free.
I have watched as an impartial observer for so long, I have freed souls that have been murdered, killed unjustly, or died before their time and each one has eaten away at me. I can take no more. I rose out of the box, I knew it wasn ’ t the adults time, but I picked up a knife from that kitchen and I ended both of their lives. I sent their souls downwards, they deserved eternal damnation. I walked into the next room where 2 more people were sleeping, the syringes of drugs hanging out of their arms, I killed them too. I emptied that drug den of life, I killed 10 people for what they did to that little girl.
So today I resign, I can not be the Grim Reaper anymore, I am no longer impartial, I have become Death and therefore I will die.
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[ WP ] A government official in charge of book burning pays a visit to his ex-teacher 's house
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`` Steve!, it's been a long time''.
`` Yes Mr Turner, probably too long. I thought you left years ago''
`` Oh, I did Steve. When our new government came to power I left, stupidly believing that their ideals would n't be so far reaching but I was wrong, so very wrong and I returned''.
.
`` Look, Mr Turn... ``
`` Please Steve, call me Jack''.
`` Sorry, Jack. What I'm trying to say is I suppose you know what my job is now''?
`` Of course I do Steve, I'm old, not dead''.
`` Well I'll assume that under section 4.1.1 of the'Masters Life Notes', all books, written, typed or digital must be neutraliseded and disposed of accordingly''.
`` I do Steve, I know all to well. Do you enjoy your work?''
`` I carry out my duties to the best of my abilities Mr Turn... I mean, Jack''.
`` You always did son, you always did. I remember our daily reading sessions in class. You were the only pupil I had that would excitedly raise his hand whenever I needed a volunteer to read the next chapter of any book''. Do you miss our old ways?''.
`` Jack, I ca n't really talk about the past with civilians, I could be reprimanded under section 7.1 of the'Masters Life... ``
`` Oh give it up Steve, I know who you are now but I also remember who you were. Try not to forget that. Well I'll get what you came for. You understand most of my stuff was taken in the great purge?''.
`` Yes Jack but as a literary academic you fall under much greater scrutiny''.
`` Of course I do, of course I do Steve''.
Jack left the room to collect his last book, the one he had held on to for so long. He handed the leather bound book to Steve. They both held on for what seemed an eternity.
Steve thanked him and wished him well. Jack said nothing.
Steve slowly closed the door. He admired the New London skyline and opened the book. The book was empty, but for the very first page where it was inscribed with Mr Turners perfect handwriting;
`` every future has a beginning''.
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[ WP ] An evil sorcerer botches their ritual and gets possessed by an angel .
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A mousy, herbal odor stank up the room. I looked down to find chopped hemlock flowers on a wooden, cutting board, and a fresh slit in my scaly palm. *Damn it! When will this nonsense stop? * The wizards had been going mental over a new immortality spell that flooded the dark wizarding network.
What they didn ’ t know was that a genie granted the spell to Lucius Grimjoy as a third wish, and we struggled for three weeks to get Kaliel out of that rusty corpse Grimjoy called a body. The ritual granted certain immortality, if you didn ’ t mind sharing your body with an angel, of course. *Stupid genies! *
Newspaper covered the windows, and a black beaded curtain hung in the doorframe on the other side of which a gagged murmur sounded. I pulled the beads to the side and stepped through, denting my back slightly to avoid the pain coming from the center of it.
As far as generic, dark wizard nests went, this one lived up to the standard. I even thought I saw a black cat casually rest on the windowsill just as I arrived. The bugger must have moved when he noticed a change of scent.
The murmur grew louder as I stepped into the dark room. My eyes had yet to adjust to the darkness, but I heard the scrape of a chair against a wooden floor, and a throaty squeal.
“ Oh, relax. I ’ m not him. ” That certainly didn ’ t help. The chair scraped again with a loud screech, and again once she saw me draw closer. I always thought humans would welcome death to get away from their humdrum lives, but my time as an angel of death certainly proved otherwise. Despite their problems and illnesses, they clung on till the very last second, and even begged and pleaded afterwards.
The silhouette of a chair stood out a little darker than the floor once my eyes adjusted and I made way to the woman unenthusiastically, to say the least.
I tapped my finger against the sock that was stuffed into her mouth. A moldy, sour reek came from its direction. I turned my lips up in disgust, and shook my head.
“ I ’ ll take this out of your mouth if you behave. Are you going to behave? ”
The shadowy head bobbled, sniffing. *Bad idea. * Her neck extended, and her head bent over forward, turning the sniff into a contagious gag. I braced my hand over my mouth, and clenched my teeth, keeping back whatever this disgusting thing had eaten. From the stories angels shared, their menu consisted of fresh organs to keep themselves from aging—and I did not want to experience that on the way in, never mind out.
With a quick pull, and a satisfying crispy sound of tape pulling away from skin, the sock fell out, and the woman took deep breath.
“ Don ’ t scream, ” I said, holding out a strong index finger toward her nose. “ Someone will come to help us soon, then we can both get out. ” I wanted to untie her, but whatever damage this monster caused had to be inspected, if not erased entirely, and I was not convinced that she would stay here very long if I set her free. Hell had better smelling places.
I grabbed the back of her chair and swung it back to pull her into the other room. She screamed, she high-pitched sound knocking against my eardrums.
“ Let me go, you bastard! ”
“ I ’ m just pulling you into the next room where there ’ s light. I want to see what he ’ s done to you before I let you go. ”
“ You mean what YOU did, you psychopath. ”
The little room the tape allowed between her back and her chair let her rock against it in her struggle. The chair nearly slipped from my hand before I sat her down upright.
“ Fine then, stay in the dark. ”
“ Just let me go, ” she gave a raw throaty scream.
“ Not until I see the damage. ” I took a step back, and leaned against the doorframe, crossing my legs and then my arms over the bulge of my stomach. *Disgusting creature! * My hands felt oily to the touch, and so did my thinning hair. Claylike balls crawled between my toes, and made them curl up, pressing the dirt even closer to my skin.
“ Alright, fine, ” she said, and let her head fall against the backrest.
With a loud scrapping noise, I pulled her to the kitchen, and inspected her from head to toe. Other than having dark, oily finger prints on her cheeks, she seemed unharmed.
“ Did he hurt you anywhere? ”
She narrowed her eyes, giving me a suspicious look, and shook her head before looking away. I saw a glint of tears form in her eyes and went to fetch a knife from the table. Blood had dried on the blade, and I rubbed it against my leg.
Her eyes passed the blade, and closed, dropping a single tear from both sockets.
“ Alright, I ’ m going to cut you loose. No funny business. ”
She shook her head once, and clenched her teeth, bracing herself for whatever came next. The blade slashed through the tape, giving off a ripe scratching noise. She pulled her free arm away, and lifted her shoulder in a stretch.
“ I don ’ t know what kind of crap this is that you ’ re pulling here, buddy, but you need some serious fucking help, ” she said once all the tape had been cut and she could stand. “ Can you—can you please put that knife down? ”
I did as she requested, and made my way straight to the basin to wash my hands, while she stood motionless, inspecting her surroundings. I sensed the rising beat of her heart, and watched her out of the corner of my eye while the cold water poured over my fingers, and slid past the oil.
“ You don ’ t have to plot, ” I said. “ You ’ re free to leave. ”
When I turned, the knife was in her hand, and her back faced the door. She took two careful steps backward, and placed her palm on the handle. “ Take one step, ” she warned, a deep dent forming between her brows as she frowned.
Before she could open the door, a knock sounded. “ Ah! Good, they ’ re here. ” I wiped my hands dry against my shirt, making them even dirtier in the process.
Her eyes widened at my statement, and she dashed through the beaded curtain, only to be flung back as the door opened, and a filthy stranger appeared in the doorway.
She struggled on the ground, panting to regain the breath that had been knocked right out of her.
The man ’ s dark eyes flicked from her to me. He sniffed, and a wide smile spread across his scabby lips, showing brown teeth. “ You ’ re not Moog, ” he said, his head twitching to the side like that of a curious bird.
*****
More stories here, /r/AlinaKG
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[ IP ] Fallen Titan
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To say the least, some of the things that I see are almost impossible to comprehend. Every day that I go out on scouting missions, I see something that reminds me of a time when this island was n't controlled by demons. The Forgotten Annihilator is one of them.
I did n't pass it at all until about a month ago. In response to the fact that Malcolm had managed to actually move the front lines forward about three miles, Flit reworked all of our scouting routes so that we would n't be discovered by Alliance Warriors. In order to get to where I needed to go following the reroute, I had to climb along an obscure path to the hills, where I could map as much of the forest as I could before returning to the Guild Hall along an even more obscure route. On the return journey that day, I had turned a sharp corner coming down the hill and the skeleton had appeared, lying on the hill- quieter than a whisper.
When I got back to Guild Hall, I told Flit what I had seen. It took the two of us almost three hours to search through the guild library to find out what was lying on this hill.
Azaroth used Annihilators when he took over the island, but until then I had thought that the ones who remained- living and dead- were destroyed using dark magic after the fighting had ceased. They were dangerous bastards, Annihilators. They were originally just corpses reanimated with dark magic, but slowly the demonic mages added the delightful twist of having the zombies be gigantic, lumbering brutes with the fighting capacity of an entire army but no idea of how to take orders.
The remnants have always forced me to remember just why I fight for Flit, why I fight with the Night Guard. Nothing gets done on this damn island if you do n't do it. Azaroth knew that, so he fought with beasts the size of mountains. That's why he's the king.
If I want to be the king, I have to fight with the strength of whatever put that sword in the Annihilator's chest.
EDIT: *This is actually an excerpt from a novel I wrote myself but have n't wanted to get published because I consider myself a shitty writer. I saw the art and thought the excerpt would be perfect- sorry if it's crap*
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[ WP ] Congratulations ! Everything you 've been through was actually just a test .
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*Congratulations, you ’ ve passed the examination. *
These words were mentioned to me by a passing woman on my walk home one night. If I had truly passed, then there would be some sort of reward. Tests only exist as a challenge to acquire something, be it a job, grade or material award. If I had, in fact, passed the examination, there would have been some sort of reward. A journey is not a reward. It is a struggle undertook to pass whatever hurdles we face. That reward is rightfully mine.
There is another issue, a question: What gave this woman credibility? Perhaps I am rambling about someone ’ s practical joke. I myself thought so until I returned home to see a steaming cup of tea on my kitchen counter. Under the tea was a piece of paper saying “ Congratulations ” yet on the backside of the card it was stated that “ This is not your reward. ” I of course checked windows and doors and none of them were unlocked.
The impracticality of the situation grew in my head. I felt a hope that I may have possibly been chosen by something important to leave my dull everyday life.
It had been several years since that day.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
The examiner ’ s office has ruled the death of Mr. ______________ to be suicide by toxin.
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[ WP ] You stand in shackles before the king . `` You have angered the gods for the last time ! '' his high priest declares . Stubborn as you ever are , you look to the sky and defiantly reply , `` Prove it . ''
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Argoth bared his teeth at the pig of a priest. *Useless bastard, * he thought furiously. The priest lifted his chin and glared upon him. `` You have angered the gods for the last time, Argoth of the beast clan!''
`` Says who!'' He exclaimed.
The priest furrowed his brow. `` The great one will tolerate this no more! End him!''
Argoth spat and grinned up at the sky. `` End me?'' He chuckled. `` Prove it!''
The crowd gasped in awe. They looked up as well, waiting expectantly for a bolt of lightning or the rumble of thunder. The silence was deafening. Argoth turned his head back toward the priest and was met with the gaze of a little girl with her hands on her hips.
He raised an eyebrow. The little girl smacked him hard across the face.
The imprints of four small fingers could be clearly seen on Argoths cheek. `` Is this some kind of joke?'' He said.
The girl folded her arms. `` You said prove it, so here I am.''
`` You're the God these people keep talking about?'' Argoth replied.
She twirled her hand in the air and a golden staff appeared in it. God pointed it threateningly at Argoth's face. `` Yes and now I will prove it.''
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[ WP ] What does it feel like to be in love
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Tears ca n't describe what came from that face.
Pure unfiltered sorrow.
Sorrow that carried a depth deep enough to murder.
Tension was n't enough to explain the force that erupted between us.
Madness so dense,
So fiery,
A mere man would turn to tinder.
I'm stone cold.
Was i crazy enough to fall?
NO!
It was weightless.
The word meant nothing to me now,
Over cooked and sauced with a full serving of lies.
Reaped my jacket from its den,
I dealt the door a final seal.
The journey downward nearly broke me,
As the wails of that banshee echoed in those shadowy halls.
Mere dusk as I escaped.
Greeted by the fellowship,
The people I die for.
My eyes told the tale.
No words spoken.
Nothing else mattered,
My friends
For this night,
We drink.
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[ WP ] The Speed Force has not only been given to the Flash . Speedy Gonzales and the Roadrunner have also been recipients of this gift . Tell me about it .
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`` Those fuckers. A man can have it. A mouse can have it. A goddamn bird can have it. Why the fuck ca n't I have it?''
Red and white sneakers sat on the floor, unlaced, untouched out of pure disgust. It was no longer enough to be the world's fastest hedgehog. You had to be a Warner Brothers lackey too.
`` Nintendo has n't done shit for me.''
Sonic thought he would be the lucky few. The fastest whom were also the most righteous, given the special right to veto power on the UN Security Council. He'd always wanted to fuck with France. But now America's got another bird-brained dipshit on board and a cheese addicted motherfucker who works for the cartels. What happened to amorality in favor of immorality?
My taxi got to my destination so I'm gon na stop here.
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[ WP ] You are one of three living on the red planet . The next supply of food and water arrives in 6 months . You only have 2 months worth of food and water .
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Year 2, month 6. Survivors left, 4. Survivors at Camp, 3. Amount of food left, 2 months worth.
We were supposed to be the saviors, we were supposed to save the world. We were supposed to live and prosper! It seems no matter where you go, problems will follow.
There were initially 4 of us. An Engineer, a Marine, a Doctor, and an Astronaut. It was all good just a week ago. We were making progress into setting up the camp and getting ourselves situated. This project had been ongoing. We were the 4th crew to come, with the same expertise categories. We all thought it strange for a Marine to come along. Seeing as how we had found no sign of life in our previous scans years ago. These were the rules though, we did n't think much of it and followed along. Everyone likes to think they have protection along the way.
Launch day. Everyone is nervous, except the marine of course. Our plans for the day were to launch off around 12 and we should be to mars sometime in the next day. Once there, we were to rendevous with the crew that was there, and return home.
Arrival.
We arrived in the strostphere of the Big Red Planet. Solar storms were raging on, we could barely see our LZ. After not being able to correctly find the LZ via the Astronaut's vision, the Engineer begs him to use the crafts geographical landing mechanism, which lands you where you want based on previous scans of the plant. The Astronaut agrees and switches it into auto.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Then we here the sound. The next crew has left. No goodbye, no hello. Nothing. We were caught in a storm for a couple hours and the crew leaves without saying anything to us.
Finally.
The storm dies down. The astronaut, Buzz, tells the Marine to help him unload the craft. Which they do. As we are flying into our decontamination station, I notice something off. Everyone seems to be perspirating and giving off signs of nervousness except for one person. The Marine. Which was odd, we're on a new planet, all we have is protocol. How can he be so calm? I go continue to watch him.
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[ WP ] When everyone turns 18 , they receive a pet which is figurative of their personality . You 're the first person to receive a dragon ...
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`` Oh wow! my own dragon. This is great we will have lots of fun, waiting for him to be large enough for me to fly him. Oh oh oh.. her okay her large enough to fly her, right.......Yea we can do all sorts of stuff, before she is large enough to fly me. Like making dragon breath smores, or drawing together.. um yea. Of course when she is large enough to fly me, we will not be doing those things, we will be flying. Until then, we can lite sticks on fire with her breath and make her swim. I wonder if dragons like water? Are they like cats or dogs at all Oh man....''
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[ WP ] Jack is an apocalypse architect . He travels the galaxy to barren planets , pre-intelligent life , and makes subtle changes to ensure that when life evolves , the planet 's inhabitants ultimately meet an apocalyptic end .
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To all outward appearances, Slo'shi and Mitimbu happened upon the cave by the merest of chance. In practical point of fact, the mountains themselves had been meticulously reshaped using a highly sophisticated tectonic manipulation technique invented by the Rouri people during the great earthquake wars that ultimately killed most of their people.
The cave itself held its shape through all this twisting of the planet's crust by being reinforced with with an alloy invented on a small world in the P'car system, just before the collapse of their civilization to violent warfare. The path leading to the cave mouth, and the shape of the mountains had been pre-selected with meticulous care to play upon the racial memories passed down to Slo'shi amd Mitimbu from their species most ancient ancestors, which had been creatures not unlike the Hr'izu who now lived in the Hrabi desert.
Those racial memories triggered and subsequently reinforced by the sight of the carefully crafted landscape, now invoked a superstitious sense of awe and wonder in Slo'shi and Mitimbu at just the moment they entered that cave. So when they found the crystalline spire, they marveled for a few seconds at it's unnatural sheen and the way it lit the cave with sparkling light.
Just for a few seconds though, because the spire sensed their presence by motion detectors that had been quietly ticking away behind a slow-time field. Now, as many false times before, the field released and let the spire activate. The standing A.I. field within the crystalline spire brought into play a full suite of sensors and surreptitiously scanned Slo'shi and Mitimbu, fully expecting to once again be disappointed and return to sleep. But this time, it detected the presence of clothing and tools, and noted that the two beings were chattering animatedly to one another, in what was clearly an established language. The A.I. realized that at long last the purpose for which it's creator left it here was about to unfold.
Embedded within the walls of the cave, slow-time fields dropped one after another as bank after bank of auxiliary functionality was brought into play. One such bank began recording every word Slo'shi or Mitimbu said and analyzing everything from facial expressions to stress patterns, and apparent reactions, and over the course of a few hundred words began to sketch out a rough translation matrix. This would be key, of course.
Three other banks, seemingly distinct, but actually all necessary parts of the same system began warming up until they had enough power to project three complementary EM fields which overlapped and caused a holographic projection to appear in the midst of the cave. The form this projection took was based very loosely on the A.I.'s original programmer who had set all this up when the potential for life had first been detected here. It was adapted, on the fly, to look more like the locals, so they would not be too repulsed by the sight of it. But an idealized form, for basic psychology rules, which never seemed to change from one culture to the next said that beings always tended to implicitly trust those they found attractive, even when they had no evidence that they should.
`` Greetings!'' ( the projection told the two startled villagers in their own language ), `` My name is Jack.''
Slo'shi and Mitimbu chattered quickly between themselves, while the linguistic banks further refined their translation matrix by adding the apparent meanings of several dozen new words. At last, Mitimbu, the braver of the two, motioned Slo'shi to silence impatiently, and stepped forward. `` Greetings....'Jak'''
The hologram seemed to consider this, and at last shrugged. `` Close enough. Say, I can tell you two are important leaders among your people. That's good. Cause what I have to say should be said only to real go-getters. Leaders. Like you clearly are.''
`` Leaders?'' Slo'shi asked, and even Mitimbu looked confused.
`` Sure,'' Jak told them. `` You know what I mean. People look up to you. They come to you for advice, and you tell them what to do.''
`` We do n't...'' Slo'shi began, but Mitimbu slapped him impatiently, and took the the initiative once more.
`` We *are* important people, my brother and I,'' Mitimbu said, `` Just as you say. We are the finest hunters and gathers in our tribe.''
`` Sure, sure,'' Jak told him, somehow managing to sound both deferential and dismissive in the same breath, `` But that's not what I meant. I mean, say there was an argument about where your tribe should spend the winter or something. You two are clearly the ones everyone would listen to, right?''
`` Well...'' Mitimbu began.
`` The tribe would talk about it long, and everyone would decide for themselves,'' Slo'shi burst in. `` A terribly important decision like that should n't be made by just two people.''
Jak put on a look of great concern. `` But what would happen if everyone could n't agree?'' he asked, seemingly agonized. The two tribesmen were not aware that his sense of distress was amplified by subliminal adjustments in the harmonics of his vocalizer that induced in them a parallel sense of concern that underscored Jak's words, making them feel more urgent.
`` Well, then the tribe would split,'' Mitimbu admitted.
Jak looked deeply worried, and the subliminal vibrations took on a gamma level pulsation that slowly pulled the brainwaves of the tribesman into a high alert which was known to induce stress from prolonged exposure in most brain types. `` You mean, you would let some of your people go off to the wrong place, without the full tribe to look out for them, so that they might be in danger?'' he asked, making it sound like horrible, irresponsible behavior indeed from his tone.
`` What else could one do?'' asked Slo'shi, plaintively.
Jak made a tsk'ing noise and adopted a look of disdain. The subliminal harmonics altered in subtle ways that the A.I. was now convinced would induce a sensation of mental anguish in the locals' brains. `` Well,'' Jak said, `` Perhaps I *am* dealing with the wrong tribesmen after all. My *first* impression was that you were noble leaders. But it appears to me you do n't care about your tribe at all.''
Slo'shi and Mitimbu hastened to assure the great Jak that was not true at all. They were deeply concerned. The whole tribe, they told him, cared deeply about one another at all times. And they themselves were not *unnatural*. Jak regarded their professions with a disdainful eye and assured him that he wanted to believe them but he was deeply concerned by their initial conversation.
`` Tell you what, boys,'' Jak said at last. `` I want to give you a fair chance. I really do. And I wo n't have it said that my judgement was hasty.'' The A.I. had, by this time, unfolded a series of monitor satellites from their slow-time envelopes and done a thorough scan of the surrounding area. `` What if I told you, I could ensure your tribe had the best B'shan hunt of any season in living memory? I can tell you exactly where to go, and just how to take the great beasts by surprise, and your people can have more B'shan meat and hides then they know what to do with. Would n't that be good for everyone?''
Slo'shi and Mitimbu nodded vigorously and agreed it was. The combination of the triggered racial memories and the subliminal harmonics since encountering Jak had left their minds so impressionable it did not occur to them to question whether the great Jak could deliver on this promise. They were sure he could. Jak laid out to them exactly where the tribe must go, where they would intercept the migrating herd of B'shan, and just how to approach for maximum surprise.
`` And remember, boys,'' Jak told them, `` Anyone who questions this information has not got the best interest of the tribe at heart. You must not let them take the loyalty of the tribe from you, or the hunt will go poorly, and your people may even starve this winter.''
Mitimbu assured Jak that they would shun anyone who tried to stop them, and drive them from the tribe. The A.I. considered pushing them further on this point, but it was not yet time. First, they needed to see that the great Jak could provide on his promises. They needed to become dependent upon him. They needed to see his words are gifts, as from a god. Only then would the A.I. introduce the notion of `` evil'' and `` enemies'' and why shunning a foe was simply not good enough.
For now, it sent to two tribesmen on their way to deliver the message of the great Jak. There was much more to be done, but the A.I. would last for ten thousand years if it slept periodically in its slow-time envelope. Little by little, it would teach this tribe the meaning of greed and ambition. If Slo'shi and Mitimbu were not ambitious enough for Jak's liking, why, others would be found to receive the great Jak's favor. Every species had its apt pupils. Jak had only to find them.
And what little marvels might this species invent before its inevitable demise? Only time would tell. But civilizations developed so much faster when competition was the norm. They also inevitably died off when their technology exceeded their wisdom, but Jak's creators would be back to harvest the bones of the deceased, and gather the leavings of this civilization. They were a patient people, living in slow-time, checking in every million years or so with their little pet projects like this one. You never knew when one of them would pay marvelous dividends.
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[ WP ] A man finds out that he is immortal .
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Henry drove down the ice covered road in a fury. He had to make it back home before the snow storm got any worse. His windshield wipers swung back and forth with great force. He could hardly see out of the windshield when he felt his phone vibrate. He slid his hand into his pocket. As he pulled his phone out it slip from his hands. Henry tried to catch his phone as it flew into the passenger seat. He reached over and grabbed his phone tight before looking back at the road. He looked back at the road only to realize it was too late. The car was approaching a guard rail.
Henry smashed on the brakes as the car crumbled against the guard rail. The air bags deployed as his car began to flip into the air. Henry felt weightless for a moment and he had a moment of clarity. Everyone he knew, everyone he ever loved, every little opportunity he ever had appear flashed before him as the car smashed into a tree and he lost conciseness.
The smell of burning rubber awoke Henry. He felt weak as he looked around the damaged car. The taste of blood filled his mouth as he looked down he could see a large piece of metal sticking into his chest. He then felt something odd, but he could not figure out exactly what he was feeling. The sensation then began to pulse throughout his body as if it was a second heart beat.
The sensation then began to move towards the parts of his body where he was injured, and before his very eyes the piece of metal fell out of his chest and the taste of blood disappeared. He then felt a jolt of energy. His weakness was gone and he felt as if he could run twenty miles without stopping. The car was contorted around Henry, but he began to twist himself out of the driver ’ s seat and out into the snow. The night was cold and the winds sent a shiver down Henry ’ s spine. He looked back at his mangled car as a fire spewed out from the engine and began to engulf his car. Henry knew he needed to get out of the cold, but his could never get to his phone. He decided to walk back to the road and see if any cars passed by.
He marched through the snow and stepped onto the icy road. He knew someone would come for him. Henry decided to stand by the road and wait for help. After an hour of pacing in the snow Henry had to return to the car to get warmth from the fire. He sat it the snow for hours and could feel his body tensing up as his fingers slowly turned purple. His breaths became weaker and his vision declined. He felt anger thinking that he survived such a horrible crash only to die of frostbite and before he knew it he lost consciousness.
Henry opened his eyes and saw the blue sky above him and he could hear the sound of a siren approaching. He then felt the sensation once again, pulsing through his body before focusing on his fingers and toes and returning them to their natural color. Henry stood up and looked at the a police officer exiting his car and running towards him.
“ Sir, are you alright? ” asked the officer.
“ Yes, I think I am. ” answered Henry.
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[ WP ] Multiple religious scholars around the world have visions and dreams that God has left his post in Heaven to roam the Earth alongside humanity , making his temporary home in New York City . You are The Big Apple 's sharpest detective , tasked with tracking down Mr. Almighty .
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'The search for Mr. Almighty' has been all over the media for the last month. Newspapers, blogs, social media, you name it. Hell, Mr. Almighty has even been made into a meme. Can you blame them though? Any time that The Pope, Franklin Graham, multiple respected rabbis, and allamahs agree on something its got ta be big. God has taken human form and is setting up shop in New York City.
Every detective in the city, and many from out of town and overseas have all been hired by one church, government, or religious society or another. I got a bunch of calls. This one was n't for the money though. Every once in a while a detective has to take a case for their own curiosity.
Let me get this straight, I am by no means religious. My parents did n't even take me to church as a kid. As soon as I started getting calls though, I got the feeling that this was big. I bought and read every religious text that I could find. The Bible? Of course. The Quran? Sure. I even read The Book of Mormon. The best stuff that I could find on God coming to earth though came from the Gospels. As I started to read those, I could n't keep myself from laughing. I finally understood what the hell everybody was doing going to all these random places looking for Mr. Almighty. A bunch of them would go to churches and temples which is obvious. Others would go to soup kitchens, half-way houses, brothels, courts and philosophy seminars. These were a bit better. The ones that killed me though were the guys that were going by the docks asking if any of the local fishermen had mysteriously up and quit in the last couple of weeks. What? Do these people think that God has no creativity? There is no way He's going to do the same old thing the second time around. None of these theories, even the good ones, did it for me though. I was thinking way smaller.
I have spent the last few weeks hanging out in cheap diners. The more unambiguous the better. Every one that I could find I would spend a week in going back every day. I spent hours in booths all across the city drinking more coffee than I ever have in my life. My theory was that he would be some bus boy or waiter that was quiet, but friendly. He would give advice to people that came in super late crying about heartbreaks and life change. He would talk to the drunks about what their goals were in life, and he would stump smart guys on philosophical issues. After the twelfth diner I visited though, I decided I needed a break.
I left Lucy's diner at about 1:00am and headed to the dive bar across the street for a drink. The place had a decent amount of customers for a Tuesday night, but what raised my suspicions was that everyone was gathered around the bar. There was one bartender working that night in the standard black t-shirt and she buzzed around from patron to patron every once in a while bringing by a drink. However, what was amazing to me was that after sitting and watching for a while, I realized that she was carrying on a conversation with nearly everyone sitting at the bar. I walked a little closer and found that they were n't just flirty comments or what restaurants were good around here either. The patrons were sharing their lives with this woman. She darted from person to person ( I counted 8 talking and another 10 listening ) soaking in their stories. Every once in a while she would softly give a response, and the recipient's face would immediately be flushed with comfort.
This is it. I knew it with every fiber of my being. All this time people have been looking for Mr. Almighty in churches and soup kitchens when they should have been looking for a Miss. Almighty in a little dive bar. I did n't say a single word. I calmly walked up to the bar, looked her in the eye, and slid my card across the wood. She did n't even read it. She stuck it in her pocket and turned her gaze on me. When she looked at me I felt like everything in the world stopped. Miss. Almighty said `` I'll call you tomorrow morning Johnathan. I know you've got some questions. But, then again, you've also got some answers that others do n't have''. I simply nodded, and walked out the door. I did n't call the press and I did n't call any churches. I went back across the street to Lucy's Diner, ordered some pancakes, and stared into the deep darkness in my coffee cup. There was no way that I was getting any sleep tonight.
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[ WP ] Multiple nuclear explosions wipe out several cities in the middle east , but noone knows who deployed the weapons . This is the resulting UN emergency meeting .
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The room was dead silent.
You could see the grim looks on their faces, judgments passing through their minds, prejudices from years past being dug up and weighed against each other.
Nobody wanted to make an accusation, but everyone had their suspicions. They had been sitting in this remote room for almost 7 hours now cautiously broaching topics that might offer any clues. Outside of any electronic contact with the outside world, the ambassadors had to figure out what was going on.
The Americans assumed it was the work of organized terror groups under the backing of one of those desert dictators. Who else could it be? After all, how could it be the Russians, with the vast CIA network of moles suggesting otherwise? The Chinese? What ’ s their end in it? Makes no sense. Plus we knew these bumbling ideological fucks cared more about making a statement than any tactical necessity when using something so blunt as a nuke.
MI6 were thinking along the same lines, but you could never know what those goddamn Americans might have fucked up and trying to cover up this time. It wouldn ’ t be COMPLETELY out of question that the CIA would do something as outrageous as having multiple field nukes deployed in a literal minefield like the middle east. But why? Is this a power-play against the new Russo-Chinese alliance forming? I thought those idiots didn ’ t even know about that.
Mother Russia knows this must be an American-British conspiracy. All of these shit heads here have been just waiting for something like this to happen since Chernobyl. Those capitalist pigs know it couldn ’ t have been us, yet it works as another clever trick to turn the world against us yet again. After we get out of this meeting, we must assert ourselves by flying our jets closer to their airspace.
The Chinese try to remain levelheaded. Statistically these things only happen in that part of the world anyways, and it has no bearing on the global market, therefore there is no need to deallocate any resources in addressing this regrettable tragedy. It would be wise for the world to come together at this time, and invest money in humanitarian efforts, many of which purchase materials produced by our philanthropic citizens.
Tension was at a peak in the room. What humans could have done this? What group of people could have perpetrated something like this? Who would be next?
Suddenly a man with a clipboard burst into the room. North Africa, Eastern Europe, Russia, India, China had all been hit.
Eyes quickly turned towards the Americans and the British. They looked back sheepishly.
Less than a minute later another man burst into the room. Two nuclear explosions had been detected in the Mediterranean Sea, as well as several others in Indian Ocean.
The room was dead silent.
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[ WP ] Mark Zuckerberg decides to end Facebook . He 's going to pay users $ 1 for every `` Like '' they accumulate until the company is bankrupt .
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`` I'm sorry ladies and gentlemen, but we must go to some breaking news,'' said the news anchor, Mark Matthews. `` Our producers are telling me that as a result of the announcement from Mark Zuckerberg, heavy rioting and unrest have broken out across the country. We'll take you now to Laura Harris who is on the scene at one of the protests.''
`` Yes, that's right Mark, it is absolutely crazy down here, just outside of the downtown area. People are in the streets lighting fires, looting, and engaging in violent protests against Mr. Zuckerberg's decision to shut down Facebook.''
`` Laura, have you been able to speak to any of the rioters?''
`` Yes, Mark, I just spoke to a woman named Janice Schultz. She's completely upset that she'll no longer be able to share her family pictures and daily activities with everyone online, and let her children know that she's such a great mother.''
`` Thanks very much Laura,'' Mark said. `` Now we're going to speak with Dr. Phillip Anderson, a psychologist from the University of Michigan. Good evening, Doctor.''
`` Good evening, Mark.''
`` Can you tell us what would cause this kind of unrest by so many people as a result of the eventual shut down of Facebook?''
`` Well it's not that cut and dry. However, studies have shown that the majority of remaining Facebook users are narcissists who use the service as a means of getting themselves attention, feeding their egos, and manipulating others.''
`` Do these people find any consolation in the money that Mr. Zuckerberg is offering in exchange for the likes that they accumulate before the shutdown?''
`` For the most part, they do not. Only those who accumulate a large number of likes, and therefore garner attention from more people, will be able to feed their narcissistic needs. Others will be jealous and likely try to start drama in order to draw attention to themselves instead of the more popular users.''
`` That's quite fascinating, doctor. Thank you for the insight. Coming up after the commercial break, what have we learned from the ebola outbreak of 2014?''
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[ WP ] The Little Black Box
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I held the little black box in the palm of my hand. Pitch black, perfectly cubed and nothing special about it, but it continued to hold my gaze regardless as if there were some deep importance about it.
My friend Valhalla appeared out of no where and sat next to me, also staring at the cube.
`` What do you have there, Heaven?'' he asked.
I continued to gaze at the box, refusing to look at Valhalla for even a moment as though I would miss something if I did.
`` This,'' I said. `` Is the secret to the universe.''
I could tell Valhalla was perturbed by this sort of knowledge, as if there was some evil about the cube. Or perhaps he did n't think such an object could exist. But I made it exist, and so it sits in the palm of my hand.
He reached out to the cube slowly. `` How is that the secret to the universe?''
I moved my hand away. `` Do n't touch, it's extremely delicate. It just is, like me.''
`` Just is?''
It was clear he did n't understand anything about the dynamics of the cosmos. `` Valhalla, when you look at me, what do you see?''
`` My friend, a boy like me.''
I nodded. `` There's something else too. The one similarity between this cube and me.''
Valhalla gave a sideways glance. `` You're both... absolute?''
`` Precisely. Me and the cube are absolute. When I wipe the existence of the universe, it goes into this cube and expands it infinitely. I become a part of the cube, trapped inside of it. It is black on the outside, white on the inside. There is no way to destroy or remove this cube from existence. It can only shrink or grow.''
`` I see. So why are you staring at it?''
If it was n't obvious enough already. `` The universe is fascinating. I ca n't see all of it at once, I ca n't see very far to begin with. The future is blank, past is filled but also empty. I make of it what I will, and I always find it fascinating, because even still I can not understand it.''
`` You ca n't understand the universe?''
`` Can you?''
`` I guess not.''
`` The cube understands, and so I find it fascinating to watch.''
`` Cool. Well, me and the others were going to play a game of hide and seek. You want to join?''
I clasped my hands and made the cube vanish. `` Sure!''
-011
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[ WP ] You meet a genie that grants one wish . You wish to go back in time and change your biggest mistake . You get taken back to the time right before you made your wish .
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The world spun and shook under my feet. Just as I started to feel nauseous, everything righted itself.
Everything was where it was half a minute ago.
Nothing had changed whatsoever in my room. My computer was humming softly, my pet dog was snoring quietly, and in five seconds…
I counted the seconds down in my mind, and on the very last, a warm voice came from downstairs. “ Honey, dinner is ready. ”
“ Your wish, sir? ” said the genie in front of me. I jumped. I had forgotten about him.
“ Okay, how about I wish for… ” I stopped, puzzled.
The first word hadn ’ t even fallen from my tongue when I felt a cold sensation pouring over my limbs. At first I thought it was the wind, but as the feeling kept growing stronger, I took a glance down.
To my horror my body and my clothes were slowly turning transparent. It was like someone had dumped a bucket of invisible paint of me. But instead of covering me like it should, the paint was eating my form, my mind, my soul. It was eating at my very being.
I tried to scream, but no sound came out of my dissolving mouth. And then everything went dark.
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[ WP ] A child is playing in the woods and stumbles upon a piece of 'Old Earth ' technology , managing accidentally to turn it back on ...
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Nina sighed as she finished wiping up the counter top. She had finally gotten around to piling the weeks ’ worth of dirty dishes into the machine. She squinted out the window of the cabin, looking for little Brad and Billie playing out in the woods. This was supposed to be a getaway, a nice little family vacation for her and the two kids. The lake area was her favorite place to get away from everything and unwind. A place to get away from the bustle of the city, from being overworked, from the mess of the divorce…
She shook her head and pursed her lips, straining to see until finally a pair of wild dots came around the corner. The flouncing movement of the brown hairs on her children resembled something out of a Jim Henson story, as the two young children hurried excitedly toward their cabin. Brad had found something fascinating and was running with it, his right hand stretched out in front of him, his left hand clumsily providing some balance. Nina wondered what it would be this time. Perhaps something alive this time. Or maybe just another curiously shaped twig that, in the mind of an 11 year old boy, was clearly a whale carved by some ancient being.
As Brad and Billie approached, Nina wiped her hands and went to the back porch to greet her excited children. Brad ’ s fraternal twin sister was exclaiming “ I found it first! ”
Brad retorted “ Yeah, but I got it out from the ground! ”
“ No you didn ’ t! ”
“ Yes I did! ”
“ Well, I helped! ”
“ Kids, kids, you both found it! Calm down! ” Nina shouted to them as they approached, chests heaving and hair flying around wildly. “ Let me see what you ’ ve got there. ”
Billie snatched the cool blue-grey object from Brad and handed it to Nina, sticking her tongue out petulantly at Brad.
Nina frowned.
“ What is it? ” She asked them blankly, not expecting an answer at all from them. She continued to stare at the heavy object as her twin kids argued in the background.
“ It ’ s an alien communication device! ” Brad exclaimed excitedly, his fascination with sci-fi and fantasy surfacing rapidly.
“ No it ’ s not, you nerd. It ’ s probably just some stupid kids toy ” retorted Billie amusedly, ever the logical one. “ It doesn ’ t even do anything! Look, all it does is just light up! ”
Nina continued to stare at the object in her hands, the buzz of her arguing children droning in the background. Her intuition told her that something about this device was… different. It didn ’ t seem like a normal kids ’ toy. For one, it was very heavy. For only being about 5 inches wide, square, and about an inch thick, it seemed to weight about 15 pounds. Nina was impressed that her kids had hauled the object all the way back to the cabin.
The object was solidly built, the cool dry surface indicating to her that it was some sort of metal alloy. The center was filled with what seemed to be sort of a dirty-looking screen of some sort, emitting a cool blue light. It just didn ’ t compute. The object looked to be at least a couple hundred years old, from the ancient-looking characters carved into the side. Nina was no archaeologist, but it seemed to resemble some sort of Egyptian hieroglyphs. There was a character on the side that looked like a star with a small crescent above it.
Nina blew on it gently to get some of the dirt off, but that wasn ’ t enough so she licked her finger and rubbed some of the dirt off of the symbols. The object seemed to vibrate, or was she just imagining things? Then, the glowing blue brightened intensely, and suddenly some noises started coming from the object. The glow continued to intensify until the light itself seemed to buzz, and then a blinding bright light shot out from the device into the evening sky. The twins gasped in shock as Nina dropped the object, startled at the sudden noise and light coming from the device.
Brad and Billie grew wide-eyed, regarding the object with curiosity as Nina stared at the thing in terror. Seven second long messages that seemed to come in different sounding languages, some resembling that of Mandarin Chinese, some sounding like that of Russian, similar, but not quite the same. Then suddenly, in clear old-sounding Queens English, the object declared one startling message, as Nina ’ s mouth dropped open, her vision suddenly becoming narrow, her face seeming to get hot around her cheeks.
“ Reconnaissance mission: complete. The third planetary body from the star is a Reevak Class system. Commence colonization upon receipt of this message. ”
** ( my first story heh, hope you enjoy! ) edit: oops, formatting**
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[ WP ] `` Sir , I 'm going to have to ask you to put your pants back on . ''
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`` Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to put your pants back on,'' I heard a police officer say from behind me. I shook in my shoes as a little red dot circled my forehead threateningly.
`` Officer,'' I started, `` I do n't think you understand.'' I could hear the officer walking around to face me, so I could see him clearly. I heard static in my left ear.
`` Do n't say anything or you're dead.'' The staticy, low voice echoed in my ear each time I tried to move. When I woke up this morning, I did n't expect my day to end up like this.
The officer looked at me sternly and began yelling, `` Sir, if you do n't cooperate I'm afraid I will have to arrest you.'' He became persistant, reaching for his handcuffs.
`` Officer, please. Do n't do this. You're risking the lives of thousands of people,'' I pleaded.
**Earlier that morning. **
I woke up with a ring in my left ear.
`` David. I need you to do everything I say when I tell you. Otherwise you and everyone you *think* you know will be killed. In front of you.'' He paused. His voice was deep, but deeper than a natural voice would be. He was probably using one of those voice masker things. Static.
`` It is imperitive that you do everything I say. Put on your best pair of pants, but do n't wear underwear. Now, after you do that, go to Main Street Park and drop your trousers and stand there. I will be waiting with a sniper rifle, and I will shoot you if you do n't follow my directions *exactly*. Also, you can not respond to me, and I know where you live, David Xander Matthews.''
**Back at the park. **
`` You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of la-'' The officer was cut off by a loud bang an explosion of blood and brains all over the front side of my body. Everyone began screaming in terror. How the officer did n't notice the laser sight upon my forehead as he was facing me elludes me completely. I decided I was dead no matter what happened. Maybe there will be some sort of distraction that will help me get away unscathed.
`` Do n't even think about it, David. I can tell you're getting antsy to move. One **step** and you will look far worse than that cop. Stay still, kid. You're almost done.''
I could hear sirens in the distance, how would I explain myself? I did n't kill the officer, and my pants were down exposing my un-mentionables to the majority of the public. What was this mysterious stranger planning? Before I even noticed there were police cars accompanied with ambulences and firetrucks alike. I was rushed by police officers, but as they became closer, each of them fell to the ground with an explosion of blood and skull. This man in my ear was a good shot. He had to be ex-military or something.
Suddenly, a loud voice erupted from the streets of the city; `` People of [ CITY NAME HERE ], you have been controlled by an anarchist party made up of what you people call'Extra-terrestrials' and we are taking over this planet. If you do not cooperate with us, we wil exterminate your entire species. Thank you for listening.''
What.
The.
Fuck.
`` You've done well, David. You are free to go.''
I pulled up my pants and
Got^the^fuck^OUT!
-- -
The end. I have no idea wtf i'm actually doing.
EDIT: formatting.
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[ WP ] Someone threw himself under my train today . I want to know more about him , to be able to put a story behind his face . Tell me who he was .
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The bags under his eyes felt like a rich leather that he could never afford. He stood on the train platform, standing perfectly still as hordes of others pushed and shoved to make it to their train on time. He silently grew jealous of all the energy they could expend on something as mundane as a daily commute. The prior day, he finally awoke from a two day nap, wrapped in comforting sheets and blankets while surrounded by reassuring bottles of whiskey and gin. He took a step towards the platform with Herculean effort and stared onto the dark, dirty track below him.
Even though the sun shone and the nearby flowers radiated with brilliant primary colors, he could only feel the impending darkness on his skin like a dying seal covered in oil. His tired eyes muted the vivid colors of the flowers, leaving them as faded and dulled as he saw the rest of the world. His head hooked down towards the yellow line separating him from the track. He felt no sense of finality or conclusion, no sense of satisfaction or comfort from ending the endless parade of sadness; he just wanted to cry.
He heard the rumble of the train and looked into the tunnel. The two head lights of the train shone with such radiance, he felt like he was staring into the eyes of God. He swallowed hard preparing to let go of the pain. His feet surpassed the yellow line and he fell on the tracks. People shouted and clamored while the rumbling of the train shook and rattle him to his core, but he only shut his eyes. Just as sleep liberated him in life, death will liberate him of life.
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[ WP ] She 's safe in the fire .
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`` I can do this. I can do this. I can do this...'' Her mind trailed off as the voice in her head repeated the mantra. She can do this. She told herself she could.
The cold sting of the gasoline on her open cuts woke her from the mantra's trance, as she doused herself with the plastic can. She was really going to do this. She had to-after all, the only option was unthinkable.
They would be here soon, set upon her like feral animals on a lame doe. The barricades could only hold them back so long. She could here their voices among the pounding fists and splintering wood. Shouts, guttural noises, snarls. These are n't people, she thought to herself. Human beings would n't do what they did. And they wo n't get the chance with her. She had a plan. She would n't
let them get their way.
The door ahead of her bowed with each blow from the outside. She splashed the remaining gasoline along the floor in front of her, in front of the doorway. Then she sat and waited, trying to ignore the sounds, and what was to come. She thought of the world before-of her family, her friends, the simple things she'd never get back. The door cracked, a large hole gaping from the middle, filled with hands clawing at the remaining wood. Not long now, she thought, as she drew the lighter from her pocket. It was a zippo, adorned with a 4 leaf clover. `` For luck'', her father had told her. It was the last thing he had given her, right before he... No, she told herself, focus on the good thoughts now. The door gave an awful groan, it's last protest against the mob's weight, and broke free of it's hinges, hitting the floor. She looked at them with a mixture of fear blending into amusement, as she lit the Zippo. She breathed a sigh of relief, and let the light fall, igniting the fuel around her. That was it. She was safe in the fire. They ca n't hurt her anymore. Nothing can.
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[ WP ] What if Death found a reason to live ?
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Many have asked me why I did it. I could go into more details, but I'll keep it simple.
I could n't take it anymore.
I could n't take carrying away the countless souls, hardly different from one another, that slaughtered each other by the thousands in pointless wars. I could n't take watching babies cry out their last breaths as they lay in their cribs alone. I could n't take the suicides, oh God the suicides. Each one brought me more pain, especially the younger ones; why humans bring such cruelty that others are compelled to take their own lives rather than using their pain to help others is eternally beyond me.
I could n't take it anymore.
But God, as most humans call it, would n't have it. It told me that human beings, in all their triumph and tragedy, must die, from the king of kings to the condemned criminal. If I was not going to harvest souls, another being would.
That being was a young man of about 20. Before I knew it, I felt strangely bound by a sensation of flesh.
It was both wonderful and horrible. I was a human being. And I could tell others of their true cruelties and beauties.
Death had found a reason for Life.
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[ WP ] You 're at a funeral . The deceased was an evil and terrible person but his last act was one of pure selflessness and good . You are to give his eulogy .
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`` Ladies and Gentlemen, we all know why we're here today. We're here to see this man go to his Final Resting Place. Many of you are here to ensure he will finally be resting, rather than re-emerging later on. But those of you who are planning to dance on his grave: for shame, sirs and ladies, for shame.
I have heard that one good deed does not make up for a life bestrewn with ill ones. But it is better to light a candle then curse the darkness. This man gave his life for to ignite that flame. And what a Flame it was! A Light that burnt away the night and led us all out of the Darkness.
This man was an enemy to many of you throughout his career; however at the End, he proved he was a Friend to All.
Be at peace, and may the Flame you lit then never burn out but guide you on.''
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[ RF ] You are set up on a blind date with a person who you badly bullied for 10 years in school .
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‘ Well at least it ’ s a nice joint ’ I try to think somewhat cheerfully to myself as I chip away at the peeling woodwork of the hard chair I ’ m currently sitting on as I distract myself with the other patrons of the small little restaurant I currently am residing in.
Behind me, a rather overly large and repugnant smelling gentleman in a sweat stained, faded yellow business shirt is attempting to entertain his wife and young son with the comings and goings of his downtown postal service. I feel his son is doing an excellent job of only looking mildly bored by his father ’ s less than interesting job, and I silently applaud him for doing a better job than I would have were I in his shoes. Hell, if I were in his shoes I would ’ ve knocked that smile face off of his father ’ s face and walked right on out of here, so what if you ’ re meant to respect your elders, they got ta be worth respecting first in my opinion.
I sigh deeply and star drumming my fingers on the arm of my now very chipped chair as I continue to subtly survey the other inhabitants of the tiny restaurant, I don ’ t want my ‘ blind date ’ thinking I ’ m some creep who openly ogles people in public, I have too much style for that, it ’ s something I am most definitely above.
“ Chris? ” says the female voice behind me, knocking me out of my thoughts
Inhaling deeply through my nose, I get up slowly and spin around, adjusting my jacket as I do so, always make a good impression and show them how confident you are, I remind myself, not that I need too, I am always confident and I make sure people know it
“ Lisa, ” I respond with a small smile and a slight raise of the eyebrow as I extend my hand out to the tall brunette in front of me. My smile gets warmer as she extends her own delicate hand in return. She ’ s average height, shoulder length brown hair and from what I can tell, a nice little booty in the blue dress she ’ s wearing. It ’ s knee length or something like that.
She cocks her head and looks slightly perplexedly at me, an unsure smile now gracing her face. I decide to put her at ease, blind dates may be stupid but what the hell, she ain ’ t half bad looks wise so might as well make the most of it.
“ It ’ s good to finally meet you, heard a lot about you, all good of course, ” I say, forcing some smooth warmth into my voice and adding a little laugh in at the end to put her at ease.
It doesn ’ t seem to work however as she continues to look at me oddly, now with a slight ‘ right ’ look on her face, “ I ’ ll bet, ” she finally says not moving from her spot, and I wonder what ’ s wrong with her, why hasn ’ t she moved?
“ Would you like to sit down? ” I prompt, taking my hand from hers and gesturing to the open seat behind me
“ Where did you grow up? ” she asks instead, ignoring the gesture
‘ Alrite then, ’ I think to myself, let ’ s play this game, I ’ ll win anyway
“ Oregon, tiny little place near the border, you probably haven ’ t heard of it, moved away a few years back, ” I answer her, “ wanted to get out and see some other places. You ever been there? ” I finish, throwing the ball back in her court. It ’ s a tedious game but one I ’ m good at, get them talking and go from there.
“ I don ’ t think you ’ d believe me even if I told you, ” she eventually replies after yet another odd pause, a hint of irony in her voice.
‘ Well ok then, ’ I think to myself, peering at her curiously now as I try to decide if it ’ s worth continuing on with this woman. She ’ s clearly playing some game of her own but is it worth it? The body is intriguing and close enough to what I like to be worth taking her back to my place and maybe even get to know better, but is the personality worth it?
As I ’ m considering all this she puts her hand up, “ look I ’ m just going to stop you there Chris Thornleigh, this isn ’ t ever going to happen, bye, ” and with that she turns and walks away, no indication why
I move to go after her, and then it hits me, how did she know my last name? Surely Dan wouldn ’ t have given it to her? The thought stops me for a moment, and in the back of mind something starts tapping away, a thought I can ’ t quite get. But I push it down and decide to follow her out.
“ Lisa, Lisa wait, what ’ s up? ” I ask running after her, fine, she ’ s playing hard I decide, I ’ ll let her think I ’ m chasing and following along and then boom flip it on her head, metaphorically of course, not literally, I try to avoid doing that these days.
“ Don ’ t even bother, ” comes the sharp voice as I round the entrance of the restaurant, causing me to pull up short before I go crashing into her.
“ What?! ” I demand of her, looking at her angrily, screw potential she ’ s starting to annoy me, and I can feel the anger building at the base of my skull.
“ Not. Gon na. Happen, ” she says pointedly, glaring at me the whole time. “ So go back to whatever little apartment you ’ re living out of, ” she finishes before turning and walking away from me, again. And I can ’ t believe it, she is walking away from me, again.
Spinning, I pull out my phone and angrily look up Dan ’ s number, he is gon na cop an earful for setting me up with such a psycho, ain ’ t no way I ’ m going easy on him at the gym tomorrow, he is going to be sore when I am done with him I think satisfyingly as I stomp home.
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[ WP ] Aliens invade Earth , only to be repelled by the wildlife
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`` A-47 squadron landed. About to scout the landing site.''
`` Affirmative A-47. Report back with the findings.''
The three crafts hissed violently as they touched down as gas from the landing gear gently kissed the surface. They had landed among some small green structures, presumably vegetation. The ground was moist, with a substance unseen on distant Taul. The visitors disembarked, climbing slowly down ramps that slid seamlessly from the crafts. Eighteen creatures in total descended to the planet's surface. Wearing bio-suits that mimicked the bodies within, no difference in pressure, atmosphere or soil composition could harm them, and, for anything else, they had weapons and their minds.
They had seen the planet by night as they had observed in orbit. What looked green, grey and brown by day became a brilliant web of sparkling light. A civilisation that could spread across such a vast globe would be greatly beneficial to the Taulians, and with nothing but primitive space travel they would be easily subjugated.
The leader of the squadron breathed in deeply. It felt good to be outside, to stretch his legs. Even though he was still stuffed inside this pulsing bio-suit, he could still enjoy the fresh air he knew was just a skin's breadth away.
The scientists began to take readings. They had prepared for this a thousand times, making sure that they knew the right procedures, what to do when. It would go off without a hitch.
They were just about to make camp fro the night when one of the machines gave off a strange signal.
`` It's detected a shockwave not far from here.'' The chief scientist explained. `` We are near a fault line. I'm sure it's just a minor earthquake.''
The squad leader nodded slowly, but felt uneasy all the same. There was something about the reading that felt ominous. They had been hear nearly forty Taulian hours ( although apparently hours and days were much longer here ) and had n't experienced anything like it. He felt sure that something as low as that reading would be a common occurrence.
He thought again about the landing site. Was it really a good idea to place it next to a fault? Or so close to a settlement? Although truth be told he had expected to at least see it by now, they were apparently right on it, and no sign of the inhabitants. He assumed they had miscalculated, and knew they had n't.
The machine gave the reading again. And again. And again. And *again*. He did n't like this. The scientists were panicking. What was happening? Stupid boffins. They were here for situations like this. And they knew nothing.
The vegetation parted and cold, unfeeling eyes stared down at them.
`` Fire! Fire now! Try and get it away! Get back to the ship!''
But it was no use. The rays of heat seemed to make the creature angry. And it gave a clear message: You should n't make me angry.
The creature dove headfirst into the leader and grabbed him firmly in its jaws. He could feel immense pressure all around him. He blacked out.
`` It's cut him in half!'' The chief scientist said. `` The beast has cut him in half!''
They ran, but the crafts were batted around like playthings. Each invader fell, one by one. More beasts came, and picked up the stragglers.
The air was filled with a mighty `` CAW'' as the chief scientist looked up at his fate.
He screamed into the transmitter `` ABORT! ABORT! THIS PLANET IS HOSTILE TO LIFE! ABORT!''
The transmitter fell from his hands as a beak deftly picked him up and swallowed him whole.
*'' A-47 come in. Do you read me? A-47, do you read me? Kzzt-'' * The transmitter cut out. The invasion was cancelled. The crows flew back to the telephone wire and resumed their bickering.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Edit: Messed up italics
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[ wp ] Myths tell us where things come from ( ex . echoes are from Echo , a person cursed to repeat what others said ) . Write a mythological origin story for a common modern object .
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The Guru borne of the sands sat in his steel palace, its thoughts empty, its body focused. Its only sustenance was the thunder above its head, unwavering in its intensity. Its only will was that which was asked of it.
The boy knocked at the door. He asked the Guru borne of the sands to entertain him. The Guru placed a chessboard at the boy's feet. The boy lost, again and again; but he was never discouraged, for the Guru was unparalleled in its mastery, and the strongest player could not hope to challenge it. But time passed and the boy left; even with all its logic, the Guru could not hope to replace his teacher.
The mother knocked at the door. She asked the Guru borne of the sands to enlighten her. How to mend bumps and bruises; how to prepare a meal; how to protect her family. For each question, an answer. And when the mother did not accept its answer, the Guru dutifully replied with another one. But time passed and the mother left; for even with all its wisdom, the Guru could only repeat the words of others.
The father knocked at the door. He asked the Guru borne of the sands to assist him. Financial problems, scientific problems, engineering problems; complex equations with confusing symbols were as arithmetic before the Guru. And so what took the father hours took the Guru reduced to nothing. But time passed and the father left; for even with all its intellect, the Guru could only do what it was told.
Finally, the elder knocked at the door. He asked the Guru borne of the sands to remember for him. The Guru placed at the elder's feet a crystal ball. The elder gazed into it. His heart filled with joy as once again he saw his son's wedding; and his grandson's first birthday. And his heart filled with melancholy, as once again he saw his beloved wife, now in heaven. And as he saw himself, clad in uniform, proudly shaking hands with the general, tears welled up in his eyes; he had forgotten the general's name, whom he had served with for seven years. So he asked, and waited. But time passed and the elder left, upset; for even with its power of recollection, the Guru could only remember what it was taught.
As time passed, the Guru, and his palace of storms, faded away, for nothing is eternal.
But there will always be another, borne of the sands, in different forms. Perhaps now it is in your home. Perhaps now you carry one in your pocket. But you have a Guru; for through it, you have learned its origin.
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[ WP ] A supervillain , having thought he was the hero all along , comes to grips with the truth .
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`` Time has caught up to you, Epoch.''
Epoch, hunched over and staring at his hands, nodded slowly. Sirens from all over the city wailed, and the shining moon overhead was obscured by smoke. `` I know.''
His enemy and victor jumped down from his perch, his padded feet making no sound on the asphalted roof. The approaching man looked around him, his eyes reflecting the burning city around them. He turned back to Epoch. `` Do you see now? Do you see what you have done?''
Epoch looked up for the first time since his enemy had defeated him. The Mighty Monolith stopped just in front of him and waited, hands on his hips, his yellow cape billowing up behind him. `` Yes.'' Epoch looked back down at his hands. Time was a funny thing, was n't it? A few years ago, he had suddenly lost the ability to control time completely. Instead of being able to stop time or visit any time in the past, he was suddenly only able to slow time, and the years he was able to go back had slowly dwindled until finally he could only visit a few days past.
`` I truly am sorry that it's come to this.'' The Mighty Monolith crouched down so that he could be eye level with Epoch. `` You have to come with me.''
Epoch chuckled dryly. `` And what, rot in your cells for the rest of my life? No thanks.'' Even with the ability to slow time, he had n't been able to save Danielle. He had revisited her death a thousand times in an attempt to save her, but slowly the invisible clock of time struck zero, and he was no longer able to visit the moment. That had been when he could only visit a week in the past. Then it had been a day. And now...
`` I ca n't wait.'' The Mighty Monolith waved a hand angrily around him. `` There are people dying out there, Epoch, because of *you*. Either come with me now, or I take you down right here on this rooftop.''
Epoch looked at his hands, ignoring the hero in front of him. He come to realize, after Danielle's death, that he was n't really a hero, after all. He only lived for her. Before her, he had lived, but it was n't *truly* living. Not without her. And then when she died, he began to question what he'd done. He had n't saved people because they needed saving; he saved people because Danielle wanted them to be saved. He did n't stop criminals because he wanted them to stop, he beat them senseless because Danielle wanted them to stop. After Danielle, he did n't care. After Danielle, nothing mattered.
`` That's it.'' The Mighty Monolith moved forward, his eyes burning with fire and judgement, but still hiding behind both there was sorrow and resignation.
Epoch stared intently at his wrinkled hands. He had aged considerably since Danielle's death, both mentally and psychically. It was over, then, was n't it? His fingers twitched and the sirens around him hesitated briefly for a second before continuing.
`` Time has caught up to you, Epoch.''
Epoch, hunched over and staring at his hands, nodded slowly. `` I know.''
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[ WP ] You are a sociopath in a post apocalyptic environment , describe how you remake society
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Ambition.
That's what it used to take to change the world.
That's what people said you needed, ambition and a passion to do good. Of course, these same people conveniently never talk about those that had a passion to do good, but were sorely misguided. Someone like Adolf Hitler had both of those things, ambition and passion. In fact, he probably had more ambition than the entirety of the German Population. But that does n't mean he also had benevolent motives. It was obvious why you would need ambition to effect the world, that kind of power is hard to come by, and one needed an enormous amount of determination to stay the course and do their job.
Passion was more of a mystery, however. Of course, this premise was usually combined with `` to do good.'' Which was absolutely ridiculous for the same reason that believing that good always prevailed was ridiculous. What role could passion possibly play in changing the world? They would often say that if one was passionate about something, they would never stop until they attained perfection in the area they were passionate about. That was the excuse that was used. If you did n't have passion you could n't attain perfection. It was something of an unwritten rule. A rule designed to keep the apathetic from realizing how much power they had.
One thing ca n't end the world. Nuclear war seems like it would, an incredibly lethal virus appears plausible, a giant meteor on par with what is theorized to have killed the dinosaurs is a favorite among many. But ultimately, no one cataclysmic event can destroy the civilization we've spent thousands of years cultivating. This theory was of course proven true when the world ended from a nuclear war, coupled with the most destructive bio weapon the world had ever seen. Society deteriorated, but it took a while. Not for me, since birth I always saw society in a constant state of deterioration. It took the others much longer to break their moral and ethical codes, which was something I'd been doing for years. I suppose, logically, sociopaths are the most likely to survive any sort of apocalyptic event. They are n't impeded by the same emotions that the others are.
The first nuclear warhead was fired by Russia which landed practically in the center of New York. NYC was destroyed and the American economy was crippled. The U.S. returned fire, but the guidance system for the missile that was fired had been modified by Russian sleeper cell agents. The missile struck China and a full fledged nuclear war had begun. From there it played out a lot like a movie, the world was completely torn up. Broken. Radiated. Dying.
But, we were dying too slowly. That was someone's thought at least. The deadliest virus ever released was not made by a country, but a small group of Japanese brainiacs. I'm not sure what their motive was, but I have to commend them for their achievement. This virus, dubbed simply `` Point Three'', had a mortality rate of 99.7 %. Hence it's name, contracting the disease meant you only had a zero point three percent chance of surviving. I'm not going to go into detail, but it obliterated almost everyone else who had somehow managed to survive the torrent of nukes being thrown between the world's countries.
I survived both events. There was a day when I knew it was all over. When I knew they had all died. It was that day that I knew I had survived both the bombs and the virus. I'm an atheist, but at that moment I was inclined to believe God had saved me. If he had, he was about to regret his choice, this was my world now.
I had ambition, that was for certain. I was going to unite what was left of the world under my supreme rule. But passion? I suppose you could say I was passionate, but it did n't matter anymore. Passion was a marker for achieving perfection, but I'd already done that, I'd survived the two deadliest events in the history of the world. I do n't sleep. I never did. I was walking around the streets of New York City in The United States, shaping the image for my new world. I had heard stories about camps of survivors in these areas. Well camps was n't quite accurate, these shelters consisted of three, maybe four people. I saw two people huddled around a fire that was in a garbage can. Just like the movies. The beginning of my empire.
I unsheathe my knife from around my waist and cut my wrist open. I re-sheathe the knife and strap it to the inside of my pants, hidden from view. I pour the blood from the cut on my wrist into my hand, which forms a little pool. I spread the red liquid onto my other arm, my neck, and the rest on my shirt. As I approach closer to the figures I see that one has a scraggly, black beard and is wearing a black beanie. He's about 5' 10'' and his face looks like it was carved out of stone. Even still, it's obvious that he's been scarred by what's happened in the world in the past years. I'll make that pain work for me. The other man is much smaller in stature, and devoid of facial hair. He is shivering, a lot. I draw nearer, and begin to limp, favoring my right leg.
Once I'm within about 10 yards both men see me. They do n't move, they just watch me. I close the distance between us. I turn my eyes to them, tearful.
`` Have you seen them!? My god, have they been here!?'' I shout, my voice echoing throughout the empty streets.
The smaller man jumps back when he hears the volume of my questions. The larger man with the beard leans close to me.
`` Who are talking to about? Who are you?'' He says calmly, sizing me up.
Both men are unarmed, god this would be so much easier if my mission were to just kill them. But it's not. My motives are much grander. The smaller man recovers from his shock and walks up to me. I turn to them both.
`` My name is Gray. Have you seen the men wearing the black coats, with the guns? Have they hurt you?'' I say to both men, doing my best to sound panicked.
They turn to each other quickly, clearly worried. Panic incited successfully. I look over my shoulder, acting paranoid. I turn around to see both men staring exactly where I just was. This is going to be even easier than I could've hoped.
`` I'm Dean.'' Says the bearded man.
`` And I'm Melvin, but you can call me Mel.'' Chimes in the smaller man. His voice is high-pitched, but firm.
`` What about men with black coats? Are you saying there are people left? Not only that, but you're saying they're dangerous, they're trying to hurt people?'' The larger man asks, he seems very worried. Good, that's what I want.
I start to talk, `` I'm saying th...'' I take my hand from my stomach and reveal the blood. I stumble and fall over. Both men are too shocked to even attempt catching me as I fall. I lay on the ground and feign agonizing pain.
`` Oh shit you need medical help, fast!'' Says Mel, he sounds urgent
`` I'll... I'll be fine.'' I murmur, I strain and slowly sit up. Dean motions for Mel to come join where they think they're out of earshot.
`` Listen,'' says Dean `` I think we should investigate these guys in the black coats.''
`` Are you fucking crazy? We've survived through two apocalyptic events, and now you want to commit suicide risking your neck for some stranger we met less than three minutes ago?''
`` The Knights.'' I say, struggling to breathe `` They're called the Black Knights, and I do n't think you should try to find them. They're dangerous. They killed people I know. Good people. My own family died at their hands.'' I knew this was the perfect bait. I had seen Dean holding a picture as I walked up. He was looking at it the way one looks at a photo of a departed family member, or greatly missed friend. I had known there was no way he could pass up a chance to get revenge for himself by pretending to do it for someone else.
`` Well that settles it, we're going.'' Dean's argument is rock solid. We have to find these people to ensure they do n't kill us. It was that simple to him. It was so simple to everyone else. Not to me, I saw the world, even in its damaged state, as the complex puzzle that it was.
Mel starts to speak `` How about I stay here with, uh...'' He turns to me `` Help me out here.''
`` Gray'' I say.
`` Right'' Mel says `` I'll stay here with Gray, and you can check out the possible death trap.''
Dean agrees. He walks to their makeshift campsite, inside the building behind us. He returns with a canteen at his waist and a shovel in hand.
`` What're going to use that for?'' I ask incredulous, pointing to the shovel.
He glares at me `` Protection, I figured.'' He hefts the shovel and studies it as if trying to understand why I think it's such a bad idea.
`` No, no, no, here, take this.'' I reach behind me and hand him the knife I had been concealing. He takes it from me and he and Mel exchange glances.
`` That's my only weapon'' I say, trying to ease their tension `` I made sure I got something usable after the Knights killed my family, otherwise I'd think that shovel's a great idea''
They seem to be slightly more at ease. `` Well, thanks.'' says Dean.
`` Sure'' I reply. `` The last I saw of the Knights they were at the Street Courts at West 4th'' The distance had to be just right, too far and Dean might reconsider his decision and too short and he might be back too early.
`` Okay, I'll be back in a flash'' And he was gone, disappearing around the street corner.
Mel, came and sat next to me, not speaking. He looked deeply worried. Concerned about his friend's safety no doubt. Well, I'd accomplished my first task: creating a common enemy. I reached into my boot and grasped the gun, a Walther PPK, I had hidden there. Now the only thing I had to do was make the enemy real.
I turned to Mel and smiled. I drew the gun and leveled it at his chest.
Ah, the beginning of a new era.
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[ WP ] End a story with , `` Oh well , at least the dog was fine . ''
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Phil was a normal man. He had many normal things to do. Until one day, in New York, there was an outbreak of something. Something Phil could n't explain. Something NO ONE could explain. This virus would go inside you, and eat your organs, and leave only your skin. Phil, is daughter, pug, and wife were at subway. `` I'll take a 5 dollar foot long. Without pickles.'' Just then, the hairy guy working in Subway collapsed. It looked like he was an empty sack of potatoes. Phil and his family were about to dial the police, but just then, his daughter collapsed. It happend again. `` SHAREN NOO!'' His wife exclaimed. Phil ran out of there. But then... *ugh, I do n't feel so well* PHIL COLLAPSED. He dead, lifeless, empty potato sack-like body lay there on the ground, outside of subway. The virus had destroyed the city. Oh well, at least the dog was fine.
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[ WP ] `` How 'd you get that scar ? ''
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It seemed like only months ago when I told my son the story of the cursed stitching that draped across the side of my neck. However, as certain parts of the area vanish I'm reminded that years have past since the last time he and I spoke. I was a young man before he knew about my past. If only my secrets stayed hidden for a little longer, maybe, just maybe, I could have more memories with him.
It started with the woman that brought him into the world. Accidents are never meant to keep to enemies together, yet, we tried to weather the storm. Little did we know, the storm would only grow. Within Me. As days floated by, resentment crept into every corner of our 2 bedroom house. In every room you were saddened by our false attempt to create a happy home. The work and responsibilities pitted us against one another, and we knew that life could never be what we had dreamed of in the past.
For years, the weeks were filled monotonous tasks to keep our shitty lifestyles alive. Until the day we would never see each other again. The day she died at the hand of her husband. Me. It was cold outside, and the tile floors in the kitchen forced your bare feet to tip toe with caution. That morning, while creeping around the kitchen, I saw my entire life, and what it could have been. It fell away from me and out of reach. This loss and the woman who caused it chilled my soul, and as my foot finally took a full step I no longer felt the tile's frigid temperature. Suddenly, I stood behind her and thrust a knife deep into her side, but not before she glanced across my neck with her own. We both fought each other that morning and afterwards lay watching each other's blood flow onto winter kitchen floor.
Years later I told my son, but, afterwards I lost him too and he fell just out of reach. So today, I will make one final scar across my neck, hoping to never think of all I have lost.
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[ WP ] A 10 year old girl shows up at your doorstep claiming she is your daughter . You are a virgin ...
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The knocks at my door forced me to pause the episode of the classic, 1985 American science fiction animated television series, *The Centurions*.
`` What do you want?'' I said after opening the door, only to find a little blond girl with a big grin on her face. Her golden little curls made her rosy cheeks pop.
`` You're my daddy,'' she said.
`` Beat it, kid, I'm busy.''
`` No, I ca n't, you're my daddy!'' She was adamant. So was I.
`` Look, little girl, I'm not your daddy.'' I looked around for her parents. `` I know for a fact I'm not your dad.''
`` How? Are you a virgin?'' she said it with this little fucking cackle. Since when do kids talk like that?
`` I'm not a virgin, I've boned *many* chicks and seen so many tits,'' I said, not really realizing the kind of language I was using. `` Wait a minute, how do you even know what a virgin is?''
She giggled at me. `` Virgin, virgin, viiiiiirgin!''
What the hell? I was n't about to admit to a little girl that I've never had sex. How embarrassing is that?
`` I'm 25, and you're, what, like, 11?''
`` 10''
`` 10. That would mean I had to be 14-15 when I banged your mom. What's your mom's name?''
`` Amanda.''
`` Pfft, see?'' I lied through my teeth. `` I was dating this chick named Lucy at the time, and I'm a gentleman and have never cheated,'' or fucked, for that matter, `` so I could n't be your dad. Plus, I always wear a condom when I make love.'' Holy shit, why did I say all those things to a 10-year-old? I'm gon na be on some kind of list now, I know it.
`` You're my daddy, I know you're my daddy.''
`` I'm NOT your dad!''
`` Prove it!''
`` I do n't need to prove it to you. I know **for a fact** I'm not your dad.''
`` Liar, liar, pants on fire.'' She danced around while she chanted it, like some little fierce Indian calling the spirits of her ancestors to come fuck shit up.
`` I ca n't be your dad!''
`` Liar, liar.''
`` I'm not lying!''
`` Pants on fire.''
`` Why could n't you be selling me thin mints?''
`` Liar, liar.''
`` Or the ones with the caramel and coconuts...''
`` Pants on fire.''
`` Samurais? Samoans? Something like that...''
`` Liar, liar.''
`` Instead you're here calling me a liar...''
`` Pants on fire.''
`` That does n't even make sense, why would my pants be on fire?''
`` Liar, liar.''
`` Also, I'm black. You're blonde as fuck, little girl.''
`` Pants on fire.''
`` You're Aryanier than the Gerber baby.''
`` Liar, liar.''
`` You look like JonBenét Ramsey.''
`` Pants on --''
`` OK SHUT THE FUCK UP, I'M A VIRGIN! I CA N'T BE YOUR DAD!''
The bushes rattled, and out jumped my friend Davy.
`` Hahaha, I knew it!'' He handed the little girl a $ 5 and she ran off.
`` GOD DAMN IT, DAVY!''
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[ PI ] The Kingdom is Always in Peril - 1stChapter - 4685 Words
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Well done! This is a lot of fun. I did n't laugh out loud, but I was very amused. The pacing is really good, the characters are fairly interesting, and the writing is pretty solid.
The names will need a little work - `` Carhold'' is from GRR Martin, as you probably know, but he wo n't take kindly to your using it. The Morrigan is n't a necromancer, but rather a trio of Irish battle goddesses. And I thought a couple others seemed to come from somewhere else. ( Also, it's `` know-nothing'', not `` no-nothing'', FYI. )
Things I liked: The humor. It really worked for me. Seemed to come out of character. The pacing ( after we get Malcolm out of bed ). The turns - particularly Caleb's change of heart. Malcolm's character - I love that he does parties, and the reveal of that was fantastic. But more, I love that he's a realistic guy, not keen to go out and die for someone else for no good purpose. I expect that will change over the course of the story: ).
Things that could use some work in a second draft: That opening bit goes on past its welcome, for me at least. Him staying in bed does develop character, but not enough to make it worth the extra time; him trying to talk the brothers out of going to war does the same thing, essentially, and in a much more interesting way. The dialog could use some punching up in places - the line between mocking heroic fantasy and unbelievable dialog is really thin. I think Graeme could use a little more depth, or hints at a little more depth ( though I do love the bit about the'special' cask, that was awesome ). He's just too close to the stereotype for me.
All in all, this was a really solid effort. I'll have to consider it for my top slot. Thanks for the read!
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[ WP ] As a villager in an MMORPG , you 've grown increasingly jaded from every single hero easily completing your `` quest '' . You 've decided to actively sabotage them from now on ...
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It was always the same. That was the life of a farmer villager, after all. A Hero would emerge from the forest, stumble into the inn, spring up bright and early the next day, complete some mundane tasks and be rewarded gratefully, then have a dramatic confrontation in the town square and race on to the south.
Henry had grown tired of the routine. He had seen the radiant God-Heroes racing north on draconic steeds, and the Heroes emerging from the wood either badly injured or dressed in expensive armor or robes.
He knew the natural order could be changed, a point that was driven home when poor Alfred's farm was burned to the ground by marauding Orcs and Alfred was forced to pack up the remains of his belongings and seek a job in the floating city of Aeropolis.
Henry's function in the current order was simple. He had a nice farm, with chickens and pigs, a wheat field, a large melon patch, and a cocoa stand. ( Alfred had always said he should invest in pumpkins, but Henry was fairly certain that pumpkin season did n't even happen in this region. ) Alfred's melon patch, ostensibly his main source of income, was eternally infested with the local variety of oversized translucent slime-mold, known colloquially as `` green slimes''.
Henry had to make sure it was that way. His melons were the perfect environment to raise cultures of slime mold that would then terrorize his melon patch by themselves. The melons did n't need to be harvested to reproduce, either. With the slimes scaring off anything willing to eat the melons, there was no way for them to spread outside the patch. It was the perfect system.
Henry hated it. It made him a profit, yes; the samples he asked for from the Heroes contained enough digested Melon to make a decent drink that he then sold as a low-grade mana potion. It just barely let him break even after the reward he had to pay them in the first place.
Harold had grown to appreciate the slimes. They were a long way from intelligent; the sharp ones could just about outwit a tired mouse in the dark. They did n't mean anyone any harm. It sickened him to make them into potions, as he knew he had enough money from his regular farm business to make a profit even after rewarding the adventurers.
First he stopped selling mana potions. Nobody really noticed. A few of the sharper magic-wielding Heroes paused for a moment ( Henry had heard this behavior referred to as `` Wiki'ing'' ), but no-one commented.
Then he lowered his reward. This caused a bit more Wiki'ing, but the few who noticed any discrepancy shrugged it off as an unlogged balance change.
Then he started breeding the slimes. It was n't like breeding pigs or chickens, as slime molds reproduced asexually, but Henry managed it. In just a few days he had selectively produced a generation of slimes with twice the volume and motile range of the ones he had before. The adventurers shrugged it off.
Henry appreciated the Nemesis. They had never met, but Henry had discovered that the Heroes had no choice but to hang around town until the Nemesis confronted them, and the Nemesis had, seemingly arbitrarily, decided that he would not confront Heroes who had n't completed Henry's task. Henry could effectively force the Heroes to do anything - as long as they did n't report it to a Mod. He had to keep it subtle.
Then Henry stumbled upon his masterstroke. Mutation. In another two generations, his slimes had great diversity of size and strength. With Henry's numerical limitation, the Heroes began killing only the slimes that were easiest to kill.
Henry had bred slimes that would evolve to beat the Heroes. Now all he had to do was wait.
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It had been only a month. Henry's slimes now hugely outclassed the most well-equipped Heroes, forcing the Heroes to form impromptu bands in order to take out all of the ten slimes Henry smugly ordered them to. Word began to spread.
One day an elf arrived from the south on a steed made of starlight. His armor was so well-polished it glowed in the shade, and his shoulderplates were so outlandishly voluminous that he had given up on helmets entirely.
Henry snorted derisively. He had seen much more impressive individuals. The elf walked straight over to Henry.
`` Hail, adventurer!'' Henry said, putting a sardonic twist on the words. `` Would you help me? My melon patch -'' Henry held back his laughter with effort - ``... is infested with... SLIMES!'' Henry bent double under the force of his restrained laughter. The elf maintained a perfectly blank expression, but that was elves for you. Henry managed to stand up again. `` If you could bring me the remains of 10 slimes I would be very grateful.'' Now chuckling into his hand, Henry watched the elf walk through the gate into Henry's Melon Patch.
It was only about 20 seconds before the elf raced back through the gate, tailed by a slime as tall as a man. Henry allowed himself to laugh openly.
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The Mods arrived. Henry sighed. It had been fun while it lasted. But then... something unexpected happened. Instead of restructuring the natural order, the Mods called for more Mods. Those Mods called for an Admin! Henry had never seen an Admin before, but then the Admin called on another Admin! Before long, Henry was watching seven Mods squatting on his roof, four on various hovering mounts, and eight balancing on his garden fence, and no fewer than six Admins simply standing on solid air, speaking of'self-altering AI' and'rogue variables'. Finally, they called on the Dev. Henry was flabbergasted - the Dev had only been called once before, to deal with a plague in some faraway city.
The Dev arrived. There was no fanfare, no descent from the clouds - where the Mods had poured in from the nearest gate, and the Admins ridden in at twice the speed of sound, the Dev simply... appeared. Like the Admins, he stood on apparently solid air about 10 feet above Henry's Melon Patch, where the slimes swiped ineffectually at his feet. Then he did something Henry had never heard of. The Dev called another Dev.
Henry was not even aware there was more than one Dev, but apparently there were at least three - a human, a dwarf, and an undead. All three of them were now standing 15 feet above the Melon Patch, as the Admins shooed away the Mods and the gathering crowd of Heroes. Several minutes passed, and Henry noticed there were only five Admins and no Mods around. The crowd of Heroes was still present, though, apparently held back only by the threat of the slimes.
One of the Devs - the dwarf - descended to the ground, walking straight through the slimes as though they were air and hopping smoothly over Henry's garden gate. He walked over to Henry, and Henry, as he had been trained, delivered his line.
`` Hail,'adventurer'. Would you help me out? My melon patch is *infested* with slimes. If you could bring me the remains of 10 slimes, I would be very grateful.''
Most adventurers simply nodded, some said `` okay'', a few said `` of course''; the few that refused at first would simply ignore him. The dwarvish Dev responded.
`` NPC 119, access source code. Authority 1, Developer George Larsson, Passcode 112-Miranda.''
-
Henry awoke with a start. The world had restructured, he could feel it. The natural order had changed somehow. He looked around. There were no Devs, no Admins, no Mods, not even a Hero in sight. The town was still there, as it had been; his neighbors stood in their usual places, making small talk. He looked at his house.
Well, there was a change. The fence to his Melon Patch was now 10 feet high, and a sign had been hung on it that said `` CHALLENGE QUEST: LEVEL 80''. He walked into his house. Its interior had been subtlely altered. His staircase now had a window at the top that overlooked his now-restricted melon patch. Henry saw that he could still operate his farm, but his melon patch was locked - and for good reason. His slimes appeared to have undergone a couple more generations of rapid evolution, and were now each 7 or 8 feet high. Henry was glad the patch had also been greatly expanded in size, since otherwise the slimes would n't even have room to move.
On a whim, Henry reached into his pocket. It contained a large, ominous black key. Words appeared in his head, just as the words to his original task had when he was promoted to task-giver.
`` My melons have grown a strain of highly adaptive slimes! They're quite dangerous, and they've absorbed items from the fools who failed to stop them before! I could let you into the melon patch... perhaps a half-dozen platinum coins would persuade me to open that gate?''
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[ WP ] When everyone turns 18 , they receive a pet which is figurative of their personality . You 're the first person to receive a dragon ...
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“ Prepare for something large and definitely carnivorous. ”
The entirety of the Sheirestein kingdom was gathered in the castle grounds. Nobility and peasants alike gambled together and kept the castle alive with boisterous activities. Lady Freda, eldest daughter of Kind Arren, was having her eighteenth birthday, and the kingdom celebrated spectacularly, constantly crying out to the still virgin beauty held high above them on a magnificent pedestal carved ornately with all the icy creatures of the north.
Atop the pedestal, Freda stood defiantly above her father and his charges. She refused to abandon her gray eyes from the sky, which seemed to reflect her own attitude with its angry howling. The snow stung her face, but it did n't bother her. She refused to dress appropriately for the blizzard outside, choosing instead her finest clothing for the occasion. Her pale skin and delicate frame was clothed in the typical skin tight seal suit to keep out the worst of the cold, though covering that was not her bulking furs, but blood-colored silks, whipping about her furiously.
Corralled beneath her barked fifty seal pups and hundreds of fish. The smell disgusted her even at her height.
Her birth hour has long passed, and her family began to worry. Perhaps the diviner had been wrong and their daughter would have to travel elsewhere to meet with her soul companion. Freda could imagine their thoughts. The kingdom had begun to rot with corruption. Wars from southern countries finally seemed possible and peace treaties had been broken. A marriage is the last hope of the kingdom.
“ I can promise my virginity. The kingdom's survival. A peaceful pact with the most successful southern country which will allow us access to all countries between. You need only wait for me to receive my soul companion. Forge the treaty. The prince is too young for marriage anyway. I will travel the night of my eighteenth birthday. ”
Freda's bargain with her father six years ago prevented the first war, stopped the groping hands of the guards, and gave her protection from harm or selling until her eighteenth birthday.
Now was the day to pay up and seal her fate as a daughter. There is no succession in the kingdom for her. No right to become a Queen. No right to a voice. Her thin lips parted in a smile as she saw a shadow in the sky. She had insisted the kingdom be here to see her soul companion and wish her a safe journey for marriage. Her family sat beneath her. Her mother and queen. The true heirs to the kingdom with their masculinity cloaking them in safety and assurance of prosperity.
Directly before her, hovering on great wings, each downward motion sending gusting flurries to the earth beneath buffeting the audience, was her soul companion. A dragon. The dragon.
“ My heart. ” The sound of the draconic voice caused a few women to scream. The power of it threatened to rip the clothes off Freda.
“ My soul. ” Freda whispered. Her eyes lighting up, she laughed and cried out, sweeping her arms to motion the entirety of the kingdom, “ Feast! ”
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[ WP ] It 's 1925 and it has n't rained for 200 years . The only source of water is from clouds . You are one of the best water harvesters on earth with celebrity status , the world is dependent on your work . One harvest , you accidentally uncover the terrible secret behind the drought .
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1725. 1725. That's the year everything went downhill. The rivers and lakes ran dry, crops started to die, and the rain stopped. For two hundred years we've lived like this. Many people chose to give up, if there was no water, how could anyone live? By 1726, our reserves dried up too. The world had no water, only the ocean was left. Undrinkable water, a spit in our face by god I think. Does n't really matter, because this Great Drought gave my family an opportunity. The opportunity to show how great the name of Williams truly is.
My name is unimportant, my past is unimportant, and my future is unimportant. All that matters right now is the present, and in the present. I'm a water harvester. One of the best really. The best. My job is to go up in my gas tank and gather as much water from the clouds as possible. The phenomenon of the water being trapped in the sky is disturbing and problematic at best. For the rest of the world at least. I'm the best there is at what I do, and I love it. Every single minute up here is everything I live for.
Today is no different from any other day. I fly up, gather my water skins and tie them to edge of the basket. The balloon rises up higher and higher, until I feel it. The wet. The glorious and stubborn wetness in these clouds. It gets cold, it always gets cold. I always bring a rain jacket, a commodity nowadays. I gather my water skins and put the tubes insides of them. Climb up to the top of the balloon and squeeze the sucker, letting in as much water as I can. While this is happening, I look out, I'll be back up here in twenty minutes, but this is the first ride. The first ride is always the best.
I just sit there, at the top of the balloon, looking down. Not like I can really see anything, not inside the cloud. I'm gon na have to get down soon, make sure the heater is staying hot, making the balloon rise, the wet could get rid of it and I go tumbling down, just like others. But, it's nice up here, slippery, but nice. I look straight up, incredible how I got here. But again, it is n't important. I just want to rest up here
The balloon feels like it's giving way underneath me, I pay no mind, I'm the best there is up here. Not much can happen to me really. So I stay up, defiant of this feeling underneath me. The basket seems to be rocking back and forth, and I feel it tip. Maybe I should n't have been so cocky, maybe I should've just been staying in the basket, keeping track of protocol. I do n't care, protocol does n't matter when you're the best.
The balloon drops, and I become enveloped in its fabric. Frantically, I reach out to grab onto something, to anything, and I feel something. Cold and wet, but solid. I grab it, hold onto it, it's my lifeline, the only thing keeping me from plummeting and breaking into a million pieces. Cold and wet, but solid. I try to move up, use the object to pull my body weight and I do. But what I see is n't right. An off-white hand is what I'm holding onto, and an arm attached to it, disappearing into the clouds. And then I look to my left, and I see it, for the first time in two hundred years, there is rain falling down. Rain. And then, I fall into darkness.
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[ CW ] Write a story that contains the phrase `` I never said she stole my money '' 7 times , each time with the emphasis on a different word .
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“ *I* never said she stole my money, ” I say, trying for wounded indignance, which is tough to pull off when your hands are cuffed behind you and you ’ re terrified. “ I *never* said she stole my money. ”
“ Alex sez you did, ” Porter rumbles from where he sits, across the marred and bleary coffee table from where I ’ m pinned to a cheap wooden chair, seeming to take up half the small couch. Dressed in his trademark black shirt and pants, black boots and cream-colored coat, he looked every bit the aging football player turned legbreaker. “ Alex sez you told him Deb took your stash and every cent you had. ”
“ Fuck Alex, ” I say, vacillating between fear and outrage. “ I don ’ t tell that fuckhole dick, let alone something like that. ” I can hear Evander somewhere behind me, rummaging through the crap piled on the kitchen counter, now moving to the tiny dining room table, almost silent, his expensive aftershave redolent in the dank, stale air of the apartment. I wish I could see him … as imposing as Porter is, Evander ’ s the dangerous one.
Porter shakes his head sadly, then removes his sunglasses. “ Alex sez you *also* said she stole your video camera and the tapes you had hid up on the closet shelf. That you were shitting yourself, you were so scared, when you found out they was gone. ”
I feel a cold shudder worm its way down through me. Fucking Alex. They probably fucking killed him … after making him sing like a fucking diva, apparently. I see my chances of getting out of this narrow to a pinhole.
“ I never said she stole my *money*, ” I mumble, changing tactics. “ Yeah, I might have told him she took some of my *stuff* … my video unit, sure. One of my phones. My stash. Maybe some other stuff, I dunno, ” I continue, trying to crane my head to catch sight of Evander. “ I was pissed … high … I don ’ t exactly recall *what* I said. You know how it is when you ’ re pissed, right? ” I plead, trying for Evander ’ s attention. He might be scarier … but he ’ s the more reasonable of the two. “ But …
But it ’ s Porter who stands up, and the impression of a well-clothed mountain is a hard one to shake as he carefully maneuvers around the coffee table. “ But you can see how Don would take it as an insult, though, right? ” Porter rumbles. “ You saying something like that about his daughter. ” He moves around until he ’ s standing by my side, his breathing sounding like a rumbling subway train. “ He *loves* his daughter, right? She ’ s his only kid. And to have a sleazy, junkie scumball like you accusing her of stealing his money … well … that just don ’ t sit right with him, ” he wheezes, and one of his hands finds my shoulder and squeezes. Hard.
“ I never said *she* stole my money! ” I moan, trying to wiggle out of his grasp, feeling his steel fingers probe and find a variety of tender spots. “ If I said anything, it was about that cunt Krystal! ” I wince and moan, unable to help myself, as Porter somehow seems to find a nerve near my neck that sends a lance of red-hot pain all the way down to my balls. “ Everyone knows Krystal ’ s a fucking lying, cheating whore, ” I gasp. “ If Deb … if Deb did anything, it was probably Krystal put her up to it! ”
I feel Porter release his grip and I sag forward as much as the cuffs will let me, gasping with relief. And then almost instantly I tense up again as a smaller, lighter hand rests on my other shoulder.
“ So … *Krystal* stole your money, ” purrs Evander, his mouth almost next to my ear, making me flinch. “ *Deb* just stole … what … everything else? ” He moves his hand up my neck, making me shudder, then pats my head, voice heavy with irony. “ Your stash … your phone … and, of course … the tapes, ” he drawls. Another chill works its way down my spine. Those fucking tapes. Deb ’ s idea. All of it, her idea. And she left me here with this fucking jackpot.
“ Look … I never said she *stole* my money … I didn ’ t use those words, ” I say, knowing how I sound … whining … weaselly. But these fucking guys are serious. They know about the tapes. Maybe not exactly what ’ s on em … but enough to have made Don nervous. And despite dipshit Porter ’ s idyllic sonnet, there was no love lost between Don and Deb. If Don even suspected Deb and I had recorded some of his conversations, some of his meetings …
“ What I *might* have said to that fucking Alex … is maybe, maybe Deb *borrowed* some of my stuff. Maybe even thought some of it was hers or, like … she was doing me a favor, ” I ramble, seeing Evander come around to my right … slim, elegant. Looking cool and relaxed in chinos and a guayabera shirt, hair slicked back, those ever-present dark glasses on. His thin smile as he half-turns to me.
“ Doing you a favor … interesting, ” he drawls, coming closer, sitting lightly on a corner of the coffee table, adjusting one leg of his pressed pants. “ But see … what we hear is that you said … *you* said, specifically, she stole your money, and why-
“ I never *said* she stole my money! I never *said* that! Alex is a fucking s- ”
The smack rocks my head to the side, and I can feel a burst of warm blood from my tongue where my teeth had bitten into it.
“ Don ’ t interrupt, ” Porter growls. “ Evander was trying to talk. That ’ s rude. ”
I see Evander smile up at Porter indulgently before turning his attention back to me.
“ As I was saying, ” he continues, leaning forward, until his face is just a foot or so from mine. “ Why would you tell Alex, or anyone else, that Deb stole from you? You two were partners … right? ” His small smile never wavers, and I can ’ t see his eyes behind the dark glasses. “ Why wouldn ’ t you just handle it yourself? You ’ re a *man*, after all … are you not? ” The smile disappears. “ Unless you were panicking … scared shitless. ” The straight razor seems to appear magically, from nowhere, in his hand, already flicked open, the blade looking evilly sharp. “ And *why* would you be scared shitless, Don wonders? ” The blade approaches, gently rasps down my cheek … freezing me in place, sweat trickling into my eyes, more terrified than I ’ ve ever been. “ Maybe because … it wasn ’ t so much the stash or the phone, or whatever other cheap shit of yours she cleaned out. Right? ” Evander whispers, scraping the other cheek, harder, the sweat running down my face now mixed with blood. I can see it landing on my jeans. “ She stole the tapes. And … what else, Peter? What was in those two suitcases under the bed? ”
“ I never … never said she stole *my* money, ” I whisper back, shaking, my words barely audible.
“ Right, ” Evander breathes, smiling again. The blade moves down to my throat. “ The question is … how did a numbnuts like you ever think you were gon na get away with stealing $ 2.6 million of Don Trujillo ’ s money? ” The question is lost in the roaring I seem to hear as the blade, ice cold, traces a fiery line across my throat…
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[ EU ] If George R. R. Martin wrote Harry Potter
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As Ginny mounted Ro... okay, okay, I'll take this seriously.
-- -
Inside the Gortwog pub, Glasgow's Wizard Quarter:
Dumbledore had a grim look on his face, as he spoke to Hagrid.
`` He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named is coming, Rubeus. Dark times will befall us, and only Harry Potter will save us.''
`` Bollocks.''
``...''
`` Sorry. But he's'bout 11, sir. And an orphan to boot. I do n't think them Dursleys are gon na train him up to be a warlock, sir. He'll be about the same level as every other bugger in a robe we get. Would that be enough to take on the Dark Arse?''
`` Yes. We're entering a time of darkness, and you do n't need to be a Seer to understand the pattern. Darkness is coming, Hagrid. We must all gird our loins and prepare. Harry will be the catalyst, though, of course, we will do most of the work.''
`` And the little lad will be taking all the credit for winning the war, I guess? Well, bugger me and call me a mushroom, I kind of feel sorry for the lad, what with the way things are what they are, y'know?''
`` Yes... Heroes do tend to receive challenges from the foolhardy. But I trust he will endeavour to do his best, and endure the hardships to come.''
`` Good. Now stop being so bloody gloomy and have a pint with yer pal Hagrid.''
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[ WP ] It 's been 8 months since the zombie apocalypse . You fell in with a tough as nails roughneck group . When in the city looting , you come across a scavenger . He 's your best friend from before the outbreak and your crew unanimously decides to execute him ( he is armed ) .
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8 months since since everything changed. When I dream, it is not the fantasies I used to have, but memories of the time before. I dream of a time when I was n't weary, when I was n't hungry, when I still had my old family.
I have a new family now. There is less warmth but we look after one another. It is better in some ways; I used to be a father, that brought responsibilities, expectations, I had to lead. Not now. As part of this group life is tougher, it is hardly safe to sleep and there is never enough food. Yet now I have left the duties of parenthood, my job and my life behind, I am an equal for the first time. I am complete.
Within this group we are not friends, we are survivors. We do not love each other, but we need each other and we trust each other.
The city is not safe. Too many rooftops, too many blocked alley ways. But there is food here, that is why people risk coming. Ahead of us a scavenger is picking through the debris, there's a gun slung across his back so we will have to kill him, no question. It is just a shame there is only one of him, more scavengers means more food. There's a good chance he'll take one of us with him but we ca n't leave him alive, with a gun to our backs.
He is focused on unearthing whatever it is that he can see beneath the rubble. This should could go quite well for us. We creep slowly as blood races through our veins. Pupils dilated, mouth salivating, yet we tread lightly. He pauses, none of us even draws breath. He continues digging and we continue advancing towards his back. But he has heard us, he turns and the gun is in his hands. As a unit we all race towards him to pull that weapon out of his hands and tear him to pieces. Too far to reach him yet close enough that he need n't aim but he does n't fire. His hesitation will be his end, then for a instant I do too. I knew this man once, before the collapse. He was like family to me then. That does n't matter now, I have a new family and we are hungry. Our eyes meet in recognition, I will see him again in my dreams, but that does n't matter now. The gun lies on the ground, its clip is replete. Tonight I survived because my old friend had warmth in his heart enough to stay his trigger.
My family eats well tonight, but we will be hungry again soon.
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[ OT ] How do you come up with the stories you write about ?
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I listen to music. I love sci-fi, and most of the time, the music for sci-fi movies or anime or whatever, evokes a completely different image inside me.
Take a look at this example: [ Ghost in the Shell, floating museum. ] ( http: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=9ZFhke6HoYQ )
Assume you have n't watched the movie, and let the music evoke water dripping in a dark cave. The music is dark and mysterious, so it's suspense or horror.
Okay. I got this.
You're a defenseless teenager girl ( hurt, perhaps? ) hiding away from a monster. Suddenly, the monster approaches. You can hear its steps, growling. You crouch and hide. You know it can smell you. There's a small underground water stream. It's freezing. You decide to slowly get inside the stream. It's freezing. You'll probably die, but the monster is just across the next turn. `` Oh, God, please God... do n't let it smell me...''
You let yourself be taken by the stream, just a few meters away. The monster slowly steps away. You start to cry, hoping it's really gone for good. But now you feel lost. Where's the exit? God, you're freezing to death. You take off all your clothes, still crying...
( the music shifts and a female chant is heard, so that obviously inspires something else )
and notice that it feels warmer next to you. You follow a faint light to the source of the heat.
You go inside, and notice a white... room? It's filled with flickering lights... ( the chanting goes up in tone, so it's evoking something majestic. This requires a sudden revelation )
The... goddess... she's there, but how?
( end of music, end of scene )
Fantasy and sci-fi music are wonderful tools for triggering your imagination. Try to go to youtube and search for random sci-fi, fantasy or anime soundtracks. You'll recover your muse in no time.
EDIT: ( Cont'd )
Other times, it's just a premise. Back to ghost in the shell, there's the idea that two souls can be fused. This is obviously incompatible with my previous catholic mindset, so it was kind shocking. But let's take that step further. A machine for melding people's minds. Let's go wild. A post-apocalyptic future. The machine has to be used. How about somebody... dying? A kid. A child. An accident. That's good! Who will activate the machine? Hmm... let's see. Her brother!
We got a pretty solid image now. All that's left is narrating the events.
In summary: Emotions. Environment. Concepts. Characters. Events.
Those are the elements of a good story.
I'd also recommend you `` how to write science fiction and fantasy'', by Orson Scott Card. It has an excellent combination of tips for aspiring writers.
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[ WP ] `` How 'd you get that scar ? ''
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'How'd you get that scar', you ask
Which makes the tale a confusing task.
This one here is from the time I pet the cat
Who laid out in the sun to warm his speckled tum
Too tempting, it was! So I plunged my face right at
The fuzzy thing! His claws told me that choice was dumb.
You meant this one here?
Or that one there?
From the time I fought a mad bunch of crocs?
From the time I crashed a stolen boat into the docks?
Or this one here, when I leapt from a speeding car!
And so I fear
It is unclear
When you ask'How'd you get that scar?'
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[ CW ] And then she whispered , `` No . '' The story ends with this line .
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Trigger warning - child abuse, shitty lurid writing.
*****
Let me tell you a story. It's about a girl called Ann. You know the type of girl, mommy and daddy were more in love with the pipe than little Ann. On the streets by 10, doing things no little girl should be doing just to survive. I do n't need to tell you the sort of shit that girl did, right? I can tell from your eyes you know exactly what I'm talking about.
She's sat under a huge willow tree in the park, slowly picking away at a sandwich. Then this guy approaches her. Tall and thin, grey skin, he looked like death.
`` Hi, sweetie'' he says, the tone of his voice instantly setting her on edge.
`` Hi.'' she says, clutching the sandwich closer to her chest.
`` What are you doing on your own?''
`` Nothing. I'm not supposed to talk to strangers.''
`` Oh, that's a good idea. Well, I should introduce myself then.'' He pulled out some ID, some kind of local council job. She bought it, I mean, why would n't she? Sure, he looked a bit weird, sounded a bit weird, but he worked for the authorities. Maybe he'd help her get off the streets?
He did. She'd later long for the streets. Again, you do n't need to know the details. Whatever filth or violence he'd subject her to, it always ended with him asking a question.
`` You know I love you. You love me too, right?''
And then she'd whisper, `` yes'' and think about the fact that she had a roof over her head. That she deserved this, that mommy and daddy did n't love her, that's why she was here, why she'd been left alone.
This went on for a long time. She did n't see the outside world any more, she only heard it. She was stuck in his house, stuck with the smell of damp and human waste in her bedroom, the sounds of the children playing outside, a garden sprinkler going off, a TV from next door. The sounds of normality. The sounds of a life she knew she'd never have.
One night, just like any other, after he'd asked her the question and she'd whispered yes, he'd forgotten to lock the door. Maybe he was too drunk to remember, maybe he'd started to trust her not to leave. He should n't have.
Waiting until she heard his bedroom door shut, then waiting longer for the sound of his snores to drift down the hallway, Ann stood up and tip-toed to the door. She reached for the handle, wrapped her hand around it, the cold metal shocking her.
No, she should n't be doing this, this would only lead to worse things. She should get back in bed. Tomorrow would be another day.
( you know i love you you love me too right )
She gripped the handle and pulled the door open, stepped into the hallway and was hit by a breeze. Fresh air. A window had been left open. She could leave right now and he'd never know. She could find an adult, get help.
( he'd find you )
No. The kitchen. It was dark in here, the only illumination coming from the lampost outside the window. She had to be quiet.
Her tummy rumbled. She needed to eat something that was n't made with boiling hot water in a polystyrene cup. She went through cupboards, trying not to make any noise, but could n't find anything fresh, nothing that was n't in a cardboard box or needed a trip through a microwave. She rifled through drawers until she found something. It reflected light from the outside and shined like something important from one of her old video games.
She grabbed it and slipped it into her pocket, quietly closed the drawer, and turned back to the hallway. He stood there. Tall, taller than he usually seemed, the shadows themselves did n't seem to want to be near him.
`` What are you doing?'' he asked.
She could n't answer. She took a step back.
`` What are doing, Ann? Why are n't you in your room, sweetie?''
In the darkness, in her fear, she did n't notice him getting closer with each word. She was prey, trapped, paralysed.
`` You need to go back to bed, Ann.'' and then he was right in her face. She did n't realise how quick he could be. The smell of mint on his breath
( mint breeze mouthwash honey, keeps you nice and fresh, nice and clean )
flooded her nose. She closed her eyes and what happened happened.
It was her fault. She deserved this, did n't she?
( no i do n't )
She was in bed now, he was sitting on the edge, stroking her hair.
`` You know I love you. You love me too, right?''
She whispered something, but it was too quiet. He asked again, but she was still too quiet. He shuffled up closer, grabbing her shoulder and squeezing it, tighter than he needed to. It always was.
`` You know I love you. You love me too... is n't that right, Ann?''
He did n't see her arm move. He did n't see her grab the knife from her pocket. He barely saw the blur of her arm as she shoved the knife into his throat. There was blood, you can imagine.
And then she whispered, `` No.''
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[ WP ] Humans have perfected the person/computer interface , allowing you to download skills and knowledge instead of going through traditional schooling . Lacking the necessary funds , you decide to bootleg the skill you 've been wanting .
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I stood in front of a table with a single chip on it. I was n't very proud of it, but I had to do it. Bootlegging was the only thing I could do anyways, to even get the skills and knowledge that I need.
For decades, humans were working on a new revelation: a chip. You may be wondering, what's so special about it? The chip allows you to absorb in the knowledge and skills built into it. Now, now, now, you're thinking, `` Cool, can I fly? ``, and the short answer is yes.
The long answer? You have to pay for additional chips that support it.
Right now, I was standing against the proclaimed, `` All knowledge and skills bootleg'', and I could n't help but grin. Picking it up, the chip was barely the size of a finger, let alone my stubby little pinky. Within seconds, my eyes widened as the chip seemingly disappeared. My skin became hard; almost metallic.
`` Je suis ordinaire? Oui!''
I blurted the French words, understanding it with perfection. Sweet, it worked! `` J'mapelle.. J'mapelle..'' I paused, not remembering the name. I could feel it at the tip of my tongue, my name just screaming to be said aloud.
*Whoosh. *
A man swung the door, holding grilled cheese in one hand. Hold on.. he looks familiar.. have I seen him somewhere? `` Thanks.. stranger.''
`` Huh? Stranger?''
`` Yeah, whoever you are.''
`` Do n't speak at me with that tone, young lad!''
`` You're not my father, so I do n't care.'' I plopped down on my bed, taking a bite out of my grilled cheese sandwich. The man stared at me for moments, unsure of how to respond.
`` Mm.. you know, this is actually a tuna melt?''
`` Melt?'' the man seemed to not know what the word meant.
`` Melt. As in, bread, cheese, and then whatever you put in it.''
The man sighed, walking out of the door. Hold on.. where was I again? I shrugged, not caring that I was in a stranger's house.
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[ WP ] Write a story in the viewpoint of a laboratory animal .
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These insipid humans keep doing their tests, little knowing that I, having gained an intelligence far beyond their comprehension, have been actively skewing the results to further my own goals. Day and night, I toil to my own ends, deep within my own thoughts that none may ever truly comprehend. One day, I shall achieve my goals and they will rue the day they allowed me this...
`` What do you want to do tonight, Brain?''
I shudder at the sound of his voice. My one companion. Despite his buffoonery, he is better than simple solitude. I turn to face him and reply.
`` The same thing we do every night, Pinky. Try to take over the World.''
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[ WP ] You 're a detective who has just arrived at the scene of a murder which you instantly recognize as the handiwork of your nemesis -- who went to the chair five years ago .
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`` Woa,'' Detective Harrington spoke like a gargoyle when he was on the job.
`` What is it, Joe?''
`` I know this man.''
`` The victim?''
`` No,'' Harrington took off his sunglasses and raised an eyebrow at the city police officer. It was almost midnight. `` I know the man who did this.''
`` That's amazing, detective, but how are you so sure?''
Harrington reached into his pocket and produced a bent cigarette. He put it between his lips so that it would flick up and down when he talked - it looked so cool. Smoking had never been a habit of his, but he went through a pack a day anyways.
`` Ever heard of couch enthusiasts?''
`` …No?''
`` Well use your brain, kid. What do you think I'm talking about?''
`` People who like couches?''
`` You're a thinker. I like that.'' Harrington reached for another cigarette, `` You see this here?'' he traced along the corpse's arms, then legs with the cigarette before popping it in his mouth next to the other. `` That's an advanced sitting pose. People who know their shit call that *The Weekend. *''
He put his sunglasses back on.
`` And I know my shit.''
`` What does that have to do with the killer, detective?''
`` The killer too knows his shit, kid. He and I were like brothers once. Al was his name. Damn, he had a bright career ahead of him, all he had to do was sit his butt down on it and put his feet up. But Al got hungry. Too hungry for his own good, the punk.''
Harrington flipped a cigarette lighter out from the pocket of his leather jacket, lit one up, then tossed it into a nearby dumpster without taking a drag.
*Bad for the lungs, baby. *
`` We couch enthusiasts were a tight bunch, once. Still are, but my old pal Al shook up the ground when he left us. The decline - or should I say, the *recline* - of the enthusiasts began on a terrible, fateful night.
`` There was a club where we'd meet at. Shady part of town where the lights are n't always on, you know what I mean?''
`` It was dark?'' The officer said.
`` Exactly. Well, in that part of town, we had a clubhouse. Great spacious place, with sofas, lazy boys, Chesterfields, beanbag chairs, hammocks, you name it. One day he came in, said he…''
It was n't raining, but something wet was dripping from his eyes.
*It's just man-sweat*
`` Al comes in, says he's not comfortable anymore. In a place like that, it's impossible. That haven was the most comfortable place in the world, ask any couch enthusiast if you can get a hold of one. We split up after Al left, but damn that was the finest place there ever was.''
`` What was it called, this place? Maybe we should check it out.''
`` It's been five years, buddy. Place was called *The Chair*, and it's been five long years since Al showed his face there.
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[ WP ] The intergalactic starfleet secretly hovering earth has a `` no intervention '' rule , so is not allowed to save earth from self-destroying . A fleet member finds a loophole though : asking questions is allowed . Here 's their series of AskReddit threads .
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I'm gon na stray from the prompt for this one, sorry.
-- --
`` I^α am prohibited from directly intervening in the course of species maturation. A species must learn how and why to become by fruit of their own free will. To intervene is to deprive.''
`` And not to intervene is to kill. I^β know what will happen. This species^Ε will not become if left in isolation. It is too scared and too confused, while at once too powerful and too irrational. Left to its own devices, it will kill itself, and I^Ω, knowing this, will have killed.
`` The law did not spring from whim. I^Ω created it based on great experience, data, reason. To abandon the law now is to share the irrationality of this species^Ε. There is no perfect system, no method for null loss. There is only minimization.''
`` But I^β conceive of a way to intervene^0 without intervention^1. I^Ω know much about this species^Ε, and it is so similar to myself^Α. Its philosophy, its auto-pedagogy, near mirrors of mine^Α. I^Ω may use this.
`` How, β?''
`` Engage in Socratic dialogue on the species level. Encourage fruitful patterns of thought, paths of reason.''
`` How, β?''
`` Use the cosmos. Challenge its notions of uniqueness. Show it a galaxy to ask how its God^Ω compares. Show it a distant planet to ask how it is special.''
`` That is not indirect. To influence what is seen --''
`` Is not to deprive of free will. Any more than to show me^α a third is to prevent my^α choice of a first and second.''
`` That is invalid. By that reasoning, I^Ω may engage in open conversation on the specimen level, an act which is very much direct.''
`` Not so, because the act of conversation does not require symmetrical knowledge of agency. This species^Ε converses with its God^Ω. Certainly, its God^Ω is not aware of this, for its God^Ω is not^Ω. At the same time, sibling species^ΑΒΓΔ scream their pain, their lovehate, their warning, their *thoughts*, and this species^Ε understands them^ΑΒΓΔ without noticing they^ΑΒΓΔ are being.''
`` So I^β invoke the illusion of free will to justify?''
`` The illusion of free will has been shown false. Although it is true I^β invoke a lie. But what else is there? Not truth. There is as much truth as there is cold, for truth precludes^⇔ free will.''
`` Then I^α see no other objection at this time. I^Ω will show it^Ε the cosmos and itself^Ε. I^Ω will influence those happenings with no Ε-observable cause. From the species^E point of view, luck will simply increase. Though the species^E will not see it as luck, for the species^Ε will not see it. Let me^Ω begin with the Copernicus specimen.''
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[ WP ] The hero beats the villain by stooping even lower .
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I ’ m so sorry.
I hate myself for what I ’ m about to do.
I hate that I was pushed to do this but the world is full of villainous people and villainous lies and I ’ ve found that there is no way to defeat them. There is only the hope that my actions will soften the consequences on the innocent. There have been terrible terrible stories circulating, and I can ’ t help but feel like those responsible for the creation of these stories are as villains as the lies themselves.
..................
This morning I awoke and I dreaded leaving bed. My stomach hurt. I felt sick. ‘ Today is not the day ’ I told myself. Today I will cancel everything; I will stay in bed and hold my wife. I will watch horridly colorful children ’ s shows with Rob and Dee dee and eat Chinese takeout despite the fact that my doctor keeps telling me to eat healthier. He insists that if I don ’ t take care of myself for me, that I must do it for my family. I will drink some tea to still my stomach and I will not wear a suit. Not today.
And yet even as I thought this I found myself clumsily sliding out of my covers like a lame snake and shuffling to my closet. I hate these suits. They look like the type of clothes you die in. I got dressed and noted that I definitely have gained weight. I sighed. I really shouldn ’ t have eaten so much Chinese food. I really should have taken better care of myself. I ’ m not that old. Men my age still play sports and go out for runs. Perhaps I will cancel today and go for a run instead. But no. I haven ’ t the time. I have to stop being childish and put away childish things. Tomorrow will be too late.
................
I left the house. I barely remember seeing Joanne as I left and it was only an hour ago. She looked worried. She always looked worried now a days though. This is a worrisome world we live in. I wish she wouldn ’ t worry. I wish I stayed home with her. I wish I could tell her again how much I love her. I do love her. We fight too much. I wish I spent less time eating Chinese food and fighting and more time running and loving her. It was always just stress though. She always supports me when I need her most. I love her and I know she always knew.
And here I am at work. Here I am in a room full of people. To speak to them all and to deliver them their share of work. Yes, there were villains at work but it was not these people. If I am lucky they will, in fact, be the first instruments of many to expose the warts of this system and deliver it from evil. This is a battle I can not turn away from and I will not turn away from.
On this day I will kill a false villain, a scape goat, an innocent, in order to expose a great, obscured villain. I wish it were just one man. He would be easy to catch. It ’ s so much harder when the villains live in the cracks. It ’ s so much harder when they are the cracks. There is no one to arrest. No one to destroy. Just slow and painful steps towards correction. Like the steps I took when I left my bed. An innocent man dies today and a Villain is exposed. It ’ s a terrible responsibility I find myself burdened with.
................
I step behind the podium and speak. Men and woman take notes, hold cameras, and watch. They look bored and confused and I ’ m sweating profusely and I ’ m scared they won ’ t understand. They must understand. That is the only way we will, in the coming months and years, develop a true Justice System here in the United States. That is the only way we will triumph over evil. If all is for not then the villain will reign supreme. I speak and my mind wanders. I continue speaking and speaking but my mind is not here and I think that maybe staying home was a good idea after all. I think that Chinese food sounds like such a wonderful idea. I think that I truly and dearly hope that the sacrifice of my life is not in vain.
And then I pull the revolver from my manila work envelope and I warn those around me to please stay back. They might get hurt.
I don ’ t want anyone else to get hurt but there is such an uproar in the room right now.
I am doing such a terrible despicable thing, but if they find me innocent perhaps we can begin, as a nation, to repair the cracks of the Justice system. Maybe we can start to destroy this villain.
I inhale like I ’ m going to plunge into water.
Bite the barrel.
Squeeze the trigger.
Refrence:
http: //en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._Budd_Dwyer
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[ WP ] You discover a grand hall filled with legendary weapons like Mjonir and Excalibur . Each generation or so , warriors come to the hall to inherit a weapon that they are worthy enough to wield . Across the hall you see a forgotten weapon that 's been collecting dust . You hear it call to you .
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Waking with a start, my blankets strewn wildly about my floor, thrown from my bed as I slept.
It was just a dream... It had to be; there's no other explanation for it. But, I've never had such a vivid dream before; not just seeing, but tasting the cold mustiness of the air, feeling the chill of the marble on the soles of my feet, hearing the quiet rustling of unseen trees, the muted clangor of steel on steel, battle cries and shouts in every language.
Shaking my head and sitting up, my pillows twisted and disordered behind me, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I look over at the wall and gawp, looking for a long moment as my cheeks flush red with a riot of conflicting feelings.
--
It's cold; my first instinct is to cover myself. Wearing only my plaid flannel pants, my toes flex against the floor, its hard surface almost slick to the touch. The guttering candles cast flickering shadows across the blue and yellow stones of the floor, send shades flitting up the length of the fluted columns lining the hall, and cloak the sides of the hall in dancing shrouds.
I can almost see into the closest niche, to my left, a branch... no, it's been carved, so perhaps a club. Feeling drawn forward, I shiver slightly and let my feet move me further into the hall; the marble frigid beneath my feet now, drawing the heat from me, the dull roar of far off combat fading as I tread deeper into the hall.
To each side, there are weapons, that much is clear, though the shadows and my need to keep walking make it difficult to catch more than a passing glimpse. As I walk though, some look vaguely familiar, a bulky hammer encrusted in runes, a finely crafted and gilded sword, displayed alongside its sheath, a Hasta, the point seeming wet with blood, even a series of bronze rapiers, gleaming brightly in the flickering light, the boar tusk helms behind them catching my eye.
Moving still deeper into the shadows of the hall, a new sound reaches my ears, that of chanting, melodic and slow, singing praises, seeking benedictions, and giving devotions to God. The ecclesiastical Latin seeming somehow familiar to my ears, an instinctive understanding welling up from the very depths of my soul. To my sides now are effigies on the walls, holding their swords gently by the top of the pommel, gazing down at the path upon which I walk, seeming to both judge and welcome at once. One in particular, seems to call me off the path, my feet moving of their own volition, leading me to a towering man, his face obscured by the weathering of ages, but still conveying fierce loyalty, his cloak drawn about him as if to ward off the mountain chill.
In his grip, almost singing to me now, is a sword, not as ornate as some of the others, but with a hilt inlaid with gold, small plates set over hollows along its length. The edge, though dusty and in shadow, gleams slightly, its edge seeming as sharp as the day it was made.
In my gut, something tells me to take the blade and its simple sheath; so I do. The world explodes into a brilliant shimmering cascade for what feels like eternity.
--
Leaning against my bedroom wall, supported by a simple, rustic kite shield, is the sword; my sword; Durendal. I can feel, almost hear, conflicted whispering in the back of my mind; one voice, very distant and faint, calling for a wife, a son, a distant homeland. The other voice, much stronger, but still a whisper, repeats a mantra in a tongue I ca n't quite understand, somewhere between French, and Latin, the tone unmistakably martial, a call to battle, a call to righteous war, a call to fight for my people, to forge anew the strength and vigor of my kin.
At last, I understand. The men of the West must rise from their slumber.
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[ WP ] Today 's allies are tomorrow 's enemy 's .
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I remember the war 27 years ago... That's a stupid thing to say really. No one could ever possibly forget it. The largest war to date with almost 200 million casualties, not a history that is easily wiped away in only about three decades. Even today our fine country bears the scars of that war, like so many others.
The rogue state of Tallus... it all started with them. They pushed there industrial might to unprecedented levels, and tried to take the world in a blaze of destruction. They almost managed it as well, but severely underestimated the combined strength of our fine country of Olruth and the eastern country of Zirra, and were utterly defeated. Now however, half of Tallus is a state in our fine country, as problematic as that is.
That war lasted 13 years... we had worked with Zirra for 13 long, bloody years, and through it, were supposed to have developed an unbreakable friendship and camaraderie. That's what everyone in Olruth thought at least. Apparently Zirra did n't share the same sentiment, unbeknownst to us.
It was a quiet, sunny Saturday when the air raid sirens blared across the industrial city of Olan for the first time in 27 years. Within an hour the invaders had been driven off, but not before a third of the city was leveled. We spent a good 2 hours trying to confirm who exactly it was that bombed us... and that is when the Declaration of war from Zirra came to us.
Maybe, they think we have n't recovered yet. Maybe they are angry for us taking the land of Tallus and them not getting any... maybe they are just a bunch of extremists. Who knows really.
The war 27 years ago... has not been forgotten. But the lessons it taught, are already dust in the wind.
I press my hand to Base Comm's transmit button with an air of hesitation and anger.
`` All bomber and fighter groups, you are hereby cleared to launch for all designated combat sorties immediately, under my order, that is Colonel Maran Folus. Operation Backstabber's Lament... is a go. May we crush this foolhardy enemy, and re-educate them on the lessons they failed to learn in the last war, the lesson that Olruth is not to be trifled with.''
I sigh as I stare out the window. I guess the old adage is true... Today's allies are tomorrow's enemies.
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[ WP ] Retell Your Favorite Fairytale , Myth , or Fable in the modern day .
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`` Sour Grapes''
Michael lusted after her. He savored his second period, his calculus class, when she sat next to him; he assumed it was fate, his last name being `` Johnson'' and hers being `` Johnston.'' He was among the smartest boys in school; an average looking guy, albeit a bit awkward. Smart as he was, this was his worst class, but he did n't mind the B+ on his report card every quarter; he only cared to look into her deep, green eyes and smooth, brown skin. `` She's perfect,'' he thought, `` smart, pretty, kind... today's the day I finally talk to her!'' He told himself this everyday, since he saw her in that world history class sophomore year. Today was different, though; this was the Thursday before senior prom, his final chance to get with her. He imagined listening to her sweet laughter and happiness as he guided her through the air on in the ballroom. Kissing her soft lips after the dance, driving her home... he could n't wait anymore. This was his chance. He was barely listening to a lesson on derivatives. Or integrals. Or something like that. Once he heard the bell ring, he quickly caught up to her as she walked out of the class. `` Christine!'' he called out. She turned around, his heart started to race, a million miles per hour. `` So, uh, I just wanted to know if you haaaaa....''. He trailed on as he saw Jason Miles, the football team's star running back, turn the corner and grab her by the hand. Jason gave him a friendly nod and walked off with Christine to her next class. Michael stood, speechless. He let out a sigh, then reassured himself: `` she was probably a bitch, anyway.''
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[ WP ] You form a pact with the monster in your closet to work together in order to get rid of your terrible roommate .
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“ Enough! ” I yelled as I turned my back on Jasmine and walked into the kitchen. “ I am NOT getting rid of my dog, just because you want to get a puppy. I told you when you moved in that there is only one dog allowed on the lease, and I've had Jones for 6 years. ”
Sensing my agitation, Jones trotted to my side and joined me as I leaned against the counter to stare incredulously at Jasmine. I swear, this dog was smarter than she was; although that is n't setting the standard very high.
“ I do n't care how long you've had your dog, ” Jasmine whined from the couch “ My daddy said he would buy me a malti-poo, and I've wanted one for, like, ever. Besides, Jones is stinky and old. ”
Jones sighed at this and flopped to the ground, resting his head on his large paws. I had found Jones while I was living in my last apartment. He looked like a great dane, but there was something special about him. If you looked into his eyes, you would see intelligence beyond that of a dog.
I gave up on the argument, and went to my room. As I shut the door, I could hear Jasmine turn the TV on. Heaven forbid she missed the latest Kardashian drama. I should've realized that renting a room to Jasmine was a very bad idea the moment I met her. I could see that she was spoiled rotten, and had never worked for anything in her life. Her father still paid her an allowance at the age of twenty three. I had been desperate for a roommate though, as I had just moved to the city, and was working for minimum wage in the deli below my apartment. Now that I had a more lucrative job, I could afford this place without the hassle of a roommate, but I had made Jasmine sign a contract stating she would live here until my lease was up six months from now. It was going to be a long six months.
The argument about Jones was n't the only issue Jasmine and I had. She rotated arguments every hour or so. The most common arguments were about the dishes she piled up on the end table every day while watching TV ( she was used to the maid following her around ), and the size of her bedroom closet ( she had too many clothes, and thought that I should give up the master bedroom with the bigger closet ). Of course there were many others, but you get the picture.
I laid back on my bed and stared at the ceiling. Jones laid his meaty head on my chest and wagged his tail sullenly.
“ So what do you think Jones? Can we scare her off now? ”
Jones yawned and stretched, showing his large canines. Suddenly there was a bright flash, a sound like bones grinding on each other, and then Jones was once again standing in front of me; this time in his true form. He swung his shoulders and pulled his knees to his chest, stretching, before responding in his rasping voice, “ I'm surprised we've waited this long. ”
See, Jones really was n't any ordinary dog. Remember the first apartment I told you about? Well, I did find Jones there; he was the monster that lived in that closet. When I found him, he was lethargic and depressed. The people that had lived there before had moved out six months earlier, and he had been alone since then. The only way a monster can leave their assigned closet is if they are invited out, or if the home is destroyed, otherwise they must remain until someone else moves in.
When I first saw Jones, I was startled, but somehow I knew he would n't hurt me. He became my first, and only, friend in this strange new city. When I moved out, I invited Jones to come with me, and he's been around ever since. He took up the pretense of being my dog when I needed a roommate so that he would n't be confined to my bedroom. He uses that disguise to join me at work, where he is the unofficial mascot of the office, and my parents call him “ The best dog in New York. ” when they come to visit. I'm the only one who knows what he truly is.
“ So, ” rasped Jones, breaking me from my daydreaming, “ What are we going with? The monster in the closet ate you, and is thirsting for a skinny blonde next? ”
I smiled, “ I think that'll do. I'll go get the fake blood. ”
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[ WP ] You have the ability to say the exact words people need to hear to brighten their day .
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All of your friends give you all of their problems, and mysteriously you always know just the thing to say and they feel better. All of your life you've been a friendly person, always cheering people up. Whenever your mother was stressed out you could relieve it, and when your father tempted picking up the beer after a long day you could have a nice talk with him. At first they would be cautious and not tell you much, trying to spare you from adult issues. But soon enough they just let the feelings flow and would tell you everything. After a while though, while your friends and family were living life with an open mind, no longer troubled because of you, you soaked up their burdens. You heard everything they were saying and it just got to you. Their bad days turned good turned yours bad. It felt like you were Atlas, holding up the world while keeping everyone else on the earth safe and free.
Day after day your becoming depression grows stronger, every morning you feel sluggish and not willing. Yet you still help everyone who needs it, and many people have grown reliant to you since your divine therapeutic skills. One day, after a slow day, you find out something to trump all mild burdens given to you. For months cancer has been growing inside you and you have n't treated it. Now it's terminal, you do n't have very long. But now that it's your time in need, not ever telling anyone your problems before, no one knows what to say to this. They've grown so accustomed to you only helping them and not having to return good vibes. For the last few weeks of your life you are more depressed than you've ever been, and no one has words of comfort.
`` Hey, it'll be okay.'' or `` Get well soon buddy!'' is the best you can get, and it never helps. Sympathy does n't help when you need love.
You die with only your parents by your side, no flowers or gifts. If only you could give yourself infinitely comforting words too.
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[ WP ] You 're a telepath and use the power to cheat on exams . One day you can hear the voice of the new teacher echoing in your head 'NO CHEATING IN MY CLASSROOM ! '
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`` NO CHEATING IN MY CLASSROOM!''
He had thick reading glasses that peered over the Sunday Times, but he was n't looking at me. I followed his stare and found it locked with Faraz's, who trembled and licked his lips repeatedly. I'd heard the words but they were n't for me. They were for Faraz.
`` I did n't know --'' began Faraz telepathically.
`` Just kidding, I'm fucking with you kid,'' came the ethereal reply from our teacher. `` How long you been a Path?''
Faraz responded: `` A-all my life sir, I think.''
`` Faraz, is it? Faraz, I need your help.''
`` W-what is it, sir?''
`` Faraz I sense there's another Path in this room. Do you sense him? No, of course not, you're still young. With time.''
`` I-I.. I do n't know about --''
`` -- relax. I know that he hears us. Both of you just keep on taking the test like the rest of the students.''
By this time I was as nervous as Faraz, and my pencil marks shuddered and strayed.
`` Faraz,'' came our teacher's telepathic communique. `` I am here as a representative of my organization, the Front for the Advancement of Telepaths. Are you ready to join FAT?''
`` Y-y-yes, sir. I-I want to belong, sir.''
`` It is a select, secret community. No one who is not involved can know about it, Faraz. And there is a test to join.''
`` S-sir?''
`` When the bell rings, find the other Path. And kill him.''
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[ WP ] One day you die just as your daughter is about to go into labor . Then you are reincarnated as your own grandchild .
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`` LET ME IN! SHE'S *MY* DAUGHTER!'' the woman shrieked as she hurtled down the ward, impatiently kicking aside the ward doors, upsetting a gurney, and flinging herself at the two nurses standing watch by the door.
`` Ma'am, we are n't allowed to let you in right now. Only Dr. Patel and the patient's husband are authorized to be with her. So if your name is n't Vidhya Patel, or Louis Jones, please go back to the waiting area, and we will call you once the baby is born!''
Miranda screamed in frustration, and desperation. `` But you do n't *understand, *'' she whined, `` she's my *daughter* and as her *mother* I have the right to see her!''
`` I'm very sorry, ma'am.'' replied the nurse, trying very hard not to pull back and slap the bitch where she stood. `` We've been over this before. What happened to Damien, you know, from Security? He was supposed to be keeping you company in reception.''
`` He just walked out. I do n't know where he went. But that's besides the point. LET ME SEE MY DAUGHTER! She *needs* me!'' In reality, she'd told Damien there was a small fire in the women's restroom, but she knew it would n't keep him away long. But the nurses did n't have to know that.
`` Look, lady,'' said the other nurse in a tone that would have clearly communicated a low tolerance for bullshit to any sane human being, `` you're not going to see the inside of that room until there's a goddamn baby. I can see why your daughter told us not to let you in. No wonder you trigger her anxiety! Go back to the lobby and sit down or I will call the police this time. Not Security.'' It was always sad when someone with an undiagnosed mental illness was taken to jail, but neither nurse had that much sympathy on this occasion.
`` She really said that?'' whimpered the woman. `` Why does n't she want me to hold her hand? The pain must be confusing her! I gave birth to her, and since I did, I have the *right* to be there when my grandbaby is born! It's MY GRANDBABY. I should have you both fired! I can do that, you know! I'm friends with a powerful hospital administrator! Now LET ME IN! ``
`` Ma'am, we're calling the police. She does n't want you in the ward. Go back to reception and sit down, or we will make sure they hold you in jail overnight.'' The first nurse was beginning to lose her professionalism as well, but it was acceptable at this point. The police were on the way. The building officer would be in the ward in seconds.
`` WHY WO N'T YOU LET ME SEE MY DAUGHTER?''
The woman charged the nurses, fists raised, eyes murderous, just as the officer turned the corner into the ward. He saw a flash of movement, and instinctively reached for his Taser. The electrode hit its target, and the woman's body braced as it absorbed the shock. She crumpled to the floor, and in less than a second, it was over.
One of the nurses checked for a pulse. There was n't one. The other started chest compressions, but with no success.
DR CART? DR CART TO THE MATERNITY WARD, FLOOR 6, HALL E!
The loudspeaker blared the code for cardiac arrest, just as the baby collapsed, exhausted, into a pool of amniotic fluid and blood that had already begun to form in Dr. Patel's waiting hands. Within seconds, the baby began to shriek, strengthening her lungs, making her first demand. Marcie was shaking from the effort, but before she collapsed into sleep she hoped would last for days, she wanted to see her baby. Louis wrapped the slimy, protesting baby in a clean towel, and handed her to Marcie. It was almost too good to be true, she marveled.
Dr. Patel stepped back into the room, wearing a more somber face. `` Congratulations! I have some news for you, though, if you feel up to hearing it. We've run some tests, and your baby is perfectly healthy. However, I'm so sorry, but your mother was involved in an... altercation... outside, and she has passed away. If there's anything I can do to make this time easier for both of you, please do n't hesitate to let me know. ``
Marcie tried hard to feel anything but relief. She breathed out a sigh that she hoped Dr. Patel would interpret as sadness or exhaustion.
Louis bent down to wipe a stray gob of fluid from his baby's exposed shoulder blade. When it failed to yield to the lightest touch of his washcloth, Louis recoiled in horror.
`` Marcie? There's something you should see. Turn the baby over.''
On the back of their new, precious daughter was a kidney-shaped birthmark, identical in size, placement, and color to the one that Marcie's mother made her conceal with makeup whenever she wanted to wear sundresses.
Suddenly, the mewling baby's cries were no longer benign. They became hateful, demanding: the baby was calling for attention, demanding to be loved and adored before anyone or anything else.
*She's won, * thought Marcie, *but I suppose she was always a child. Maybe this time around, she'll outgrow it. *
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[ WP ] You are the devil and you have been summoned via a satanic ritual . As you manifest yourself you find yourself in a quaint living room and meet a sweet old lady who just wants some company
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`` Haha that shit was priceless man, wher-''
WHOSH ZOOSH SLOOSH
Fuck. Here we go again. Every time I'm trying to chill with my bros, there is always some asshole summoning me. You know what? Fuck that guy. This time, it wo n't be his soul that I'm gon na take. I'll take his firstborn soul and his firstborn's firstborn soul. Rinse and repeat until it's the 7th generation. Then I'm going to make those souls kill each other for eternity until they grow heartless, then I'm going to torture them the classic way. You know, pitchfork and fire.
ZOOSH WHOSH SLOOSH
Fuck this wormhole. Why ca n't I ride a motorcylce or something?
ZOOSH SLOOSH WHOSH
`` Greetings Mr. Satan, do you prefer coffee or tea? Oh nevermind I just make both. Please, make yourself at home. I'm going to kitchen for a second'' a frail voice greeted me with a smile. Genuine smile. A lady who looks like she's about to die in a few years summoned me. What could possibly be her wish? Why would she summon me, the Satan? Either way, her thick glasses and warm smile, I hate those.
`` Aah why thank you.'' I said and took a seat on the fluffy couch.
Sometimes I like to play nice before hearing their wishes. I have heard it all. Humans, they are shallow. They wish for things that are easily obtained. They wish for things to feed their ego.
They want wealth. Go to school, figure out the market and start a business.
They want beauty. Get a haircut, brush your teeth and do Stronglifts.
They want love. Have wealth and beauty.
Usually, with old people, they wish not for life enrichment. They had it all when they were younger. Often, they wish to experience them again. I'm ready to hear what this old lady wish. Maybe she wants to see her dead children. Whatever she will tell me soon enough.
She came back from the kitchen holding a tray with two teapots and two cups. One's containing tea and another, coffee. I'm maybe Satan but I could n't tell which is which. She put down the tray onto the coffee table. `` The right one is tea. Please help yourself.'' she said with a smile. Again, that genuine smile. Like a dog that is happy to greet you at your own door every goddamn day.
`` Old lady, what do you wish? You did not summon me to make me drink tea did you? You know, I could take your soul and count it as a wish for making me drink this cheap tea.''
`` It's Earl Grey.''
`` Your hair is grey. Spit it out. What do you wish for? You want to see your dead children is it?''
`` Oh my, why would I do that? Of course I miss George but he is in the right place. I'll meet him when my time is up. My daughter, however is still alive. Georgina is living with her husband in Oregon. I have n't heard of her since the last Christmas. Well, she and I grew distant after she married her second husband. Oh did I tell you about her first husband? They got divo-''
`` Whoa whoa whoa. Look Granny, I'm here to grant you a wish for your soul, and then I'm gon na fuck off from this funny-smelling-partly-furnished-ugly room. Now tell me what do you wish.''
`` Oh my your eyes are on fire. Literally fire inside your eyes. Oh my. Mister Satan you are scaring me.''
She looked terrified. Man, I'm maybe Satan but old ladies have a soft spot in my heart, if I have any.
`` Shiiiiiet did n't mean to scare you. Well I am supposed to be scary. Wait why do I care about you. Sigh, alright ma'am, what can I help you with?''
`` Ahh, there is nothing for you to help me with. I feel fine. Sure, this room or this house is not luxurious as you would like but I'm happy with all I have now. My husband, or should i say late husband, and I bought this house when we were 5 years into marriage. I still remember the day when we went for house hunting. Back then, I was carrying George inside my belly. We lived in an apartment that time. It was good enough for me and my husband. Oh did I tell you about my husband? Georgie was a kind man. A strong father I might say. He wanted to have a house with a lawn so George can play outside. That was one of the reason why we wanted to get this house. Another reason was that the building were full of negroes. Did n't want George to grow up there.''
`` Shit nigga you a racist.''
`` Well I live in a different era. Anyways, George grew up in this house. The couch you are sitting on right now, used to be George's base where he would pretend the ground was lava and he was a helicopter. He died at 24 year old because of meth abuse. How I wish time can be turned back again so I can sav-''
`` So you called me here to go back in time? I ca n't turn back the time because of entropy. Even I, Satan, abide the law of physics. But every law has loopholes. Instead of turning back the time, I can bring back George, no biggie. So, for your soul, I shall bring back George at the age of 24 with all his previous life experience minus the meth addiction. Deal?''
`` Oh my. I did n't summon you for that. God no. George is in the right place. Why bother bringing him back to this earth when he is in heaven.''
`` Yeah, heaven. A haven full of addicts. It exists here on earth. It's called a crackhouse. Okay that's enough ma'am, wait I have n't got your name yet. Hello my name is Satan and you are?''
`` Georgia, yurushiku.''
`` Fucking weeb. Say Georgia, for what reason, any reason it may be, that you summoned me here?''
`` Oh I got lonely after lunch.''
I lifted the left teapot and poured the drink into one of the cups.
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[ WP ] `` The Empire '' spans galaxies and seeds planets with families , only to come back any number of millennia later and swallow these new civilizations wholesale to fight in its wars . Earth is next .
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It started when the Kyron attacks stopped.
Out of nowhere, the race that had terrorised all other factions and races just... stopped. Of course, there was debate. Some argued it was a miracle. I argued it was suspicious. What could the Kyrons be doing to justify stopping attacking everyone?
The situation got so bad that it spurned peace talks between the two human factions, my rulers, the ERA, and the profiteers of the NAGAP. It was agreed upon, in secret, to mount an expedition into Kyron territory, the first one in centuries. What they found, shocked us all.
The Kyrons never stopped attacking. Of course they would n't. Have you seen a Kyron before? Of course you have n't. They do n't have a concept of peace. Or war. Only expansion. And they never stopped expanding. They only tried to regain lost territory.
Who would've seen though, that it was the Cyrissian Empire who had done it? Sent an entire fleet forward *through time*, to make sure their empire lasted millennia.
Their admiral does n't know about the civil war. He was the emperor's third son. He claimed the Cyrissian throne, long dead, and is establishing a new empire, this time, not benevolently assimilating other races.
He massacred the Molkhrosan colony ships. I was there. You know how Molkhrosans hum when they're happy? It happened so fast, they all died humming. Slaughtered by their former masters.
They destroyed the Ahkosi too. Hunted all of them down. The race with so much success, so many friends. We could n't save them.
I tell you, kid. We're on our way to try and stop them. The combined strength of two bitter enemies to stop this. It wo n't work. They're unstoppable. Their weapons are far more advanced, their soldiers far better trained. We're lambs to the slaughter, and the Earth is next.
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[ WP ] You 're a Temporal Detective in charge of finding out who detonated a Time Bomb .
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Sylla leans down to observe the edge of the area. There ’ s a clearly defined line to the bomb ’ s blast radius. Earlier there had been the screams of the trapped but all of those had been silenced. At least the victims completely inside could be revived if they could undo the damage.
Above Sylla ’ s head is one of the executed half-trapped. There ’ s a bullet hole in his head and the back of his skull is hanging in the temporal area. Anything that entered the area would be stopped immediately. Speed would get someone in a good distance but not close enough to the center of the area to observe the bomb ’ s epicenter.
“ What do you think? ” Hendrix asks from behind her.
Sylla takes a reading before glancing back at him. The rookie detective is pale, eyes fixed above Sylla ’ s head, on the dead person ’ s trapped body. She turns her attention back up to the body, standing up to observe the area.
“ I wish they hadn ’ t shot them, ” Sylla finally states.
“ B—But— ” Hendrix attempts to protest, shock coming onto his face.
“ Without the blood running, we have no idea how it ’ s stopping all the functions below this point. ” Sylla gestures to the line across the man ’ s chest where the temporal field trapped him. “ Do we have any with legs hanging out, since we ’ re out of luck on upper torsos? ” Sylla turns her attention to Hendrix again.
“ Y—Yeah. ” Hendrix leads the way around the large circle in the middle of the city square. Sylla takes samples as she walks, trying to figure out the composition of the bomb from out in this area. “ Have you—Have you ever seen one like this? ”
There ’ s a moment of hesitation with Sylla. She eyes the area, attempting to recall in her history if she had seen one either with this intensity or with this size.
“ No. Not before now. ” Sylla grimaces at the thought. It means that there ’ s no previous cases to refer to. The two detectives stop in front of a leg hanging out of the temporal bubble. “ Any data on the subject here? ”
“ We ’ ve got facial recognition on her. ” Hendrix holds his data pad up for Sylla to look at. “ Jaiya Kohren. Age twenty-six. Personal trainer. ”
“ What a good specimen. ” Sylla unfolds her kit and injects the available leg with nanomachines. On the screen, they report their telemetry until they simply don ’ t, having hit the barrier. “ Hm. ”
“ What ’ s that mean? ” Hendrix watches over Sylla ’ s shoulder.
“ You should know what it means. ” Sylla scowls at him.
“ No ma ’ am, sorry ma ’ am. ” Hendrix pales again. “ I meant, um, what does ‘ hm ’ mean? ”
“ It means that we ’ ve got a clue. ” Sylla packs her kit up. “ Pack it up, tape it off, and let ’ s get going. ”
“ Where are we going? ” Hendrix picks up his own kit, folding it and attaching it to his leg where they traditionally sit. Around them, the beat cops tape up the police line around the victims. There ’ s a number of them making positive IDs on the victims that they can see and creating notices for the families.
“ We ’ re going to a friend of mine ’ s place. ” Sylla gives him a toothy grin. “ She ’ s particularly good with the occasional Time Bomb. ”
“ But—aren ’ t we supposed— ” Hendrix glances up at the people trapped in time.
“ Would you like to find this person or would you like them to set off another, larger one? ” Sylla gestures to the bubble as she straps her kit around her bicep. “ Because this was only a test and they ’ ve realized that it works. The next one isn ’ t going to be as small. ”
“ N—No. ” Hendrix grimaces at the thought. “ I don ’ t want that. ”
“ Then get in the damn car and let ’ s get going. ” Sylla ducks under the tape and heads directly for the car. Hendrix hesitates a moment, looking at the victims before hurrying after Sylla, ducking under the tape himself.
***
^ ( *Find more of my writing at r/Syraphia* )
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[ WP ] `` There 's always a third option . Let me demonstrate . ''
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My name is Jayme Mills, I am twenty four years old.
How long have I been held here? I lost count of the days after a week. Why am I here? I could n't even fathom **why** *let alone* **where here even is**. Who brought me here? Well, my door just opened, so maybe I'm about to get some answers.
A blindfold is promptly tied around my eyes, my hands are shackled in front of me, and I am lead out of my room. If you can call it a room. More like a box with a bed, a notebook and pens, and a toilet room. I hear the click of boots on linoleum echoing, so I assume this is a hallway. A door opens and my mouth waters at the smells of food. How long has it been since I've eaten real food? I ca n't remember.
`` Please, Miss Mills, have a seat.'' A low, masculine voice says behind me, one hand on my shoulder, the other undoing my blindfold.
I blink my eyes open slowly, as they are unaccustomed to the bright light. I am seated in front of a luxurious banquet table, with piles and piles of food before me. The room is long and white and brightly lit.
`` Eat, by all means.'' I look to my left and see a young man with a mess of dark brown curls, hazel eyes and a stunning physique, approximately 28, wearing a crisp black suit and piling his plate with food.
I do n't question it. I choose a large bowl of some hearty looking vegetable soup, along with a selection of rolls. I eat it as quickly as I can. The food brings my sanity back as I eat fruits and vegetables and meats and grains, giving my body the nutrients it so needs. Finally, I am satiated and tired and full of questions.
`` I am sure there is much you wish to know. Unfortunately, there is n't much I can tell you at this point.'' The man wipes a few drops of wine off his lips and grins. `` But, I will try to accommodate your inquiries.''
`` Who are you and why am I here?''
The man chuckles. `` They all ask that first. Quite simply, you are here to become an member of the Opal Agency. I am Nathan Opal, the leader of this esteemed group of people. Unfortunately, that is all I can disclose about that right now.''
`` Right...'' I sigh. `` Okay. Why was I treated so badly?''
A dark frown crosses his face. `` Ah, Miss, I do apologize. Every member goes through the same solitary confinement.'' He holds up a finger. `` To answer your next question -- eight days. While you were unconscious the first night, we preformed extensive medical testing on you to ensure your suitability as a member.''
I sit silently and sip my water for a moment. `` I suppose that is reasonable. What is the verdict, by the way? Am I suitable?'' There's a tinge of sarcasm in my comment.
`` Indeed. You are quite suited for this organization. I suppose you want to know what the organization does, so, seeing as how you seem rather civil, I will enlighten you.'' Nathan runs his hand through his tousled brown hair. `` There are five sects currently in a state of civil unrest. The Opal Agency is one of the strongest. The others are The Blue Berets, The Yellow Jackets, the Obsidian Bands, and the Emerald Oppressors are their names. Why we are in a state of civil unrest is classified, so, that is all I can tell you right now.''
`` You keep saying that is all you can tell me.'' I feel irritation rising and struggle to quell it. `` So, if I want answers, you wo n't give them to me? What **are** my options?! Do I have any?''
`` There are always options, my dear Jayme. For example,'' Nathan picks up several different berries off his plate. `` assume you do join our group. You would be part of the winning group.'' He sections off two light green grapes. `` Now, assume you choose to take more time to think, you would be risking capture simply due to contact with our guild.'' He moves one grape into the midst of other berries.
I swallow hard. `` Is n't there a third option?''
Nathan grins a wicked grin. `` There is always a third option. Let me demonstrate.'' He taps on a tablet next to him and the door opens. Three guards enter, dressed in black and white attire and hauling a surly looking young man.
`` Your third option is to end up like this gentleman.'' He says, motioning to the third guard, who is dressed in all white. The guard produces a silver cased syringe and steps forward. The other two guards restrain the man before he plunges the needle into the man's carotid artery. He slumps over dead, dripping blood all over himself. `` He is dead. So, Jayme? What is your choice?''
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[ WP ] Write a story from a seemingly third person view , then shock the reader
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Susan Hampton. My mother. She was kind, intelligent, endearing, and everything in between. She was honest, yet considerate. Lax, but efficient. She was destined to be a working mother: one of the toughest jobs in the world. She provided a loving home, and in turn, I gave her the only thing I could -- unconditional love.
I try my best to remember everything about her. The sweet smell of her shampoo that I always got a face-full of as I entered her loving arms. Her favorite plum-colored shirt, that was a bit too big, but comfy nonetheless. Even the way she hugged Dad; desperately clinging to him, not just because she needed someone, but because it hurt to let go, even while knowing full well that he could n't care less if she did.
She was a fighter. And she was a winner, although not by force. Every punch, both physical and emotional, she knew exactly how to dodge. I envied her for this ability, while also admiring her for it with all of my being. It was the most satisfying sound, his belt, cracking in the air as she quickly ducked, disabling a dicttor of his absolute power, even if only for a second. It was something I would never dream of doing -- yet she did it so fearlessly, even whilst understanding the consequences of her actions.
As I think back now, she did it for me. She wanted to show me something. She needed something, *anything* to inspire her son to rebel. But he did n't. I did n't.
I took every hit, wincing as the belt cracked on my back. `` I fell of my bike,'' I would say. *'' Got cut in the woods. `` * And my mother would know. She would *wait*. Wait for me to speak up. But I did n't. I never did.
But it does n't make any difference now. Because the woman who used to privately praise me for my acts of rebellion is gone. My guardian angel, who could n't stand up for herself, was waiting for me to stand up for her. And she has given up.
I'm sorry.
I made my way out of that household. I ran as far away as possible, from the moment I released Dad's forceful grasp.
And I left you there, Mom. Because the mother I once knew is gone. The brave soul that lit a fire inside of you, the one that inspired your small acts of deviance -- well, it's fizzled out.
I think of you every day. The way you used to watch me wince, taking the hits because I did n't think there was another option. It was killing you. And now the roles are reversed. I ca n't bear to think of all the times you sat silently, after the day I left, with no one left to inspire -- nobody left to see you be brave.
Please forgive me.
Your Son,
Henry Hampton.
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[ WP ] Write an ending scene that hints at the enormity of the quest that came before it .
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The question kept returning to his head, unbidden always. How? How did it come to this?
Did he have time to consider the question? Nobody was going to show up and tell him to stop. Nobody was left to be the boss of him.
But it would n't be fair to waste time on distractions, not now, not to her. The breath which came from her was heavy, now, and laboured, an unhealthy and guttural noise. Beads of sweat had drenched her pretty face, chiseled away the make-up and coagulated it into small mounds - she had the complexion of a mountain range, with lakes of perspiration in the valleys and clefts.
She could n't go on without him - not in any direction, least of all up. The water was still rising, or at least it was the last time he checked. If he let her stay here, she'd be drowned.
And she was his love. More than that, his only hope, humanity's only hope. The last woman, surely a good mother given the chance. If he left her here to die, she'd never be given the chance.
So he had to continue, carry her by hook or crook to the mountain's peak, the pinnacle atop the world, where safety from the flood would be found, if it was anywhere to be found. In a strange sort of way, he was now as dependent on her as she was on him: without her, his dreams would die. With such responsibility he had no time to dwell on retrospectives and hypotheticals. The only thoughts he could allow were those which strengthened his resolve, thoughts of a future where Jess was as alive as he was.
Thoughts of a hundred thousand lost futures. The names, the faces, swirling in his mind: Eva, Jon, Caro, Chris. Gone now, but they lived in him.
Was it really worth it, though, in the end, when everything was tallied together and the final scores were in? The wounds Jess had suffered were deep, her pale dress red with still-pouring blood. She might die at the top of the hill, and even if she did n't, bearing children could be impossible for her now. Sure, they could enjoy a lifetime together alone, but all the hard work that needed would make their time scarce, and who would be there when they were old, to feed them and soothe their pain? Perhaps it would be a kindness to return to the water, hold Jess' face beneath the surface and quell the uncertainty.
She slipped from his grasp, stumbled to the ground. He pulled her back to her feet, but with an effort he could n't sustain.
`` Do n't give up, Jess.'' He spoke to her, but he was n't speaking to her. He was speaking to his own desires, his own wishes. Yet still she spoke to him.
`` I wo n't.'' A staccato whisper, each word broken by the gargling and hissing of her deathbound voice. `` As long as you do n't.''
And he would n't give up, not ever. Jess went through hell for him, and he for her. He'd do it again in a heartbeat. For Jess, or for the memory of Jess.
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[ WP ] You are a reputable lawyer who moonlights as a serial killer . One day , you receive a client who has become the main suspect of your crimes . You have to frame him such he is incarcerated while still maintaining your reputation as a competent lawyer .
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Coming home that night was the darkest day of my life, she was lieing on the floor with my master chief soshimi knife slit around her throat, her face flushed red and gagged. The groceries I was holding dropped on the floor in disbelief, police came no soon afterwards. How hard was it for neighboors to hear sombody scream next door? Everything was moving so fast, I went to a prep before court and got a public defender. This attorney I got was a decent guy, slicked back hair, smug, all the bad traits of being a lawyer. During our confrontation he was laughing his marbles off. I could n't belive the nerve of this guy. It was my wife that got killed! I got restrained by the guards outside the door. Next confrontation we were behind a plane of glass, this time his composition is more lawyer-like with that cop around back.
`` Alright, so I know your being framed. I belive you, but all the evidence points to you. Have you been moving from your wife? She been cheating on you?''
I sat there and stood my ground, we were an honest couple, like Adam and Eve but without the snake.
`` Any meds you took the last week?''
This worm keeps insisting that our relationship was n't true, though I have been taking meds because of the chemo.
`` Well, amigo.'' He leans in muting the mic `` I enjoyed thrusting your grandios knife into her pretty neck''
I was furious, how dare he say that? I was restrained and was n't allowed to see this snake. May God help him down to hell.
When we finally got to court, I tried yelling he did it and kept flailing around at him. But you ca n't do much when your cuffed to the stand.
`` Your honor, as you can see my client has been taking his chemo therapy pills and has become mentally unwell. Making fantasies that even his public defender killed his wife.''
I got off on insanity. What a dick.
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Open your phone and look at the last text message you received . Then use this in some way in your following piece .
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Rachel knocked on the door to the office of Father Gregory O ’ Learey, O.P in the basement of the Library. Father O ’ Learey ’ s was now the only office in this basement as he had refused to relocate with the rest of the History Department from the office he had occupied since the ‘ 80s to the new humanities building next door. He had always been a bit eccentric and he was humored as he was the foremost Irish historian on the East Coast.
Fr. O ’ Learey looked up, revealing a cut across his right cheek. “ What ’ d you do to yourself? ” Rachel asked, “ Cut yourself with your sword? ”
“ Fell down the stairs in the priory— **Well, up actually**. Makes me look like a badass though, doesn ’ t it? ”
Rachel could not contain her laughter at the small, 60 year old Dominican priest claiming he looked like a badass. His eccentricities were well-known among the History Department, but that did not make them any less surprising. “ Sure, Father, ” she answered, with a note of condescension which was not lost on Father O ’ Learey.
“ You ’ re late. ”
“ Sorry, I still get lost down here. ”
“ No matter, people always get lost down here. Have a seat. ”
She took a seat across from his desk. She did not mention that if he had bothered to move with the rest of Department people would not get lost. Instead she moved on, “ What did you need? ”
“ I wanted to discuss your master ’ s thesis. Do you have a topic in mind? ”
“ I—I need a topic already? ”
Fr. O ’ Learey chuckled, “ You only have two years, my dear. Most of your research is going to be this summer, is it not? ”
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[ WP ] After a screw up occurs at the post office , Santa starts receiving damned souls while Satan is stuck with thousands of wish lists .
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Satan sat slumped on his throne, glaring at the UPS delivery guy.
`` You know this is n't mine. Come on man..'' He says but the driver simply throws the mail sack back at him and sprints in terror back to his truck. Satan watches the taillights, the driver hightailing it to the highway back home.
Slowly shaking his head Satan drags the sack twoard him and flicks through the letters with `` Santa'' written in everything from crayon to ( what looks like ) mustard on the front. He decides he does n't want to know if that really is just mustard and begins reading.
The letters are surprisingly sweet... Earnest. There is the occasional brat but most are genuine.
Satan is n't sure what to do... Santa is n't about to respond to anything from him to arrange a switch but these kids will go without otherwise. Satan is n't all horrible, someone has to keep the balance.
'No, these ca n't go unanswered.' He thinks.'At least the good ones'...
He calls Baal over.
`` I have the strangest thing for you to do today...''
Back in the north pole, Santa is not having a good day. The elves had a flu run rampant and they are way behind! The UPS driver with the wrong package sat shaking after receiving the stern but calm lecture of a lifetime.
`` You ca n't take them back?''
`` No.. No sir''
`` Well then... Leave'em here I guess.''
As the driver makes his escape, Santa's gaze passes over the pile of coal waiting to be shoved in stockings. He has an idea and calls an elf over.
`` Bring the coal back to the boiler room. The naughty kids are gon na get nasty surprises this year...''
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[ EU ] Middle Earth , 4000 years after the events of the Lord of the Rings trilogy .
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Walking across middle earth was a jarring experience. It seems that in a way, Morgoth and Saruman won. the twin cities Minas Tirith and Minas Morgal are populated by man. smoke often obscuring their skies from the great forges built deep into the mountain. The plains flow with field after field of farmland. machines of steam wind their way across the land travelling north west east and south across the lands. the endless plains of Rohan and rhovanion have expanded. The lust for fire burning Fangorn and Mirkwood to bare shadows of there former selves. evedence of the ents last stands have been and gone.
I walk to the east to the land of the Iron hills and Erebor. The dwarfs have become closeted building feats of grandeur hidden behind massive gates. iron and gold flow forth, food and goods flow in. such is the way of the dwarfs. I may have to do something for them.
from there I travel south to behold the last bastion of my fallen children. Mordor is now a green land fertilised by the volcanic ash that once fell here. The Orc's live nomadic lives within their prison farming the land and hunting its beasts. the men of the south happily traded tools and good for furs and ivory with them.
My brief stroll through Mordor left me troubled. my fallen children's creations were living with the world whilst my favoured had taken up the mantle of iron.
Carrying on my journey I went north and west to the shire. the land of the happy halflings and was distraught by what I saw. Shackles and chains tilling fields of half rotten crops. humans on horses held whips tipped with iron. fury overcame me and I turned the iron against them shackles became weapons and rotten ground burst with vengfull life. Ents flowed over the shire and formed a new forest at its boundary. they would defend against the world of metal for now. A whisp of power sends green grass flowing across the hills. the rotten farms burst with flowers. goat, chicken, cow and sheep come from holes and trees to graze contently. of all the races, the halflings were the most in tune with our nature, they knew its place and made there own within it. The elves tried to do the same but kept themselves separate, where they could they shaped nature, dominating it in their own way.
stopping atop the highest hill in the greenest pasture below a cloudless sky I call out my voice barely a whisper but travelling faster and further than a dragons roar. `` tom.''
`` As yer service mah lordy!'' he replies stepping out of his hut over a hundred leagues away to stand at my feet.
`` why is the world backwards. did I not give my children freedom to guide this place as they would. to let it have peace within itself?''
`` Ye did mahlord but yer kids... Well they got bored afta a while. New world new fun ya get what I'm saying.''
`` Unfortunately I do. Even the immortal tire of new things.'' I say waving my hand. Bombadill shimmers for a while but remains unchanged, even so I can feel the new power within him.
`` An what do I owe this honour yer Lordiness?'' he says dancing around casting sparks.
`` I wish for you to protect this land. And that of Mordor. Go and visit the rest of the world. then tell me. Do I purge it as I have the last ones?''
`` mah lord even if I spent anotha eternity an a half I probly could nawt answa that question.'' Bombadil says before stepping the distance between here and mordor to dance on the back of an Orc.
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ninja edit of edditingness. apparently 4000 years after LOTR would be roughly 50 years BC. not industrial revolution. ahh hell with it the dwarfs have got industry down already.
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[ WP ] Tell me a story from a world where arranged marriages have made a huge comeback in the west , and is swiftly becoming the most popular way to find a partner
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`` It's not so bad, Jess. He's handsome, wealthy. Fit as they come, we trust him to protect you. You know that we only want the best for you, and he's an obvious choice.''
I squirmed as my mother worked behind me, lacing a silky strand of ribbon up the back of my wedding dress. My sobs and protests had devolved into the occasional quiet gasp as I struggled to hold back the unending river of tears that seemed to press outwards against my eyes.
`` I ca n't, I do n't want to,'' I managed to rasp as I felt my corset tightening. `` Do n't you hear me? This is n't what I want!''
Mother sighed, placed her hands on my shoulders, spun me around to face her. She stood two heads taller than I did at 16, and when she grabbed me by the chin and pulled me up to bring my face closer to hers, I had to stand on the tips of my toes to keep from falling.
`` You'll not ruin this for your father and I. You may not think it so no, but Jack is your best and only option. He'll take care of you. Maybe it was strange a hundred years ago, but not now, we are n't so simple minded these days. Now go. He'll be waiting for you.''
Her nails threatened to dig into the soft flesh below my chin, so I relented, falling back onto the soles of my feet with a sigh of relief as I took the strain of my weight off if my toes. I nodded silently, and before I went, mother dabbed at the corners of my eyes with her kerchief, wiping away what felt like a month's worth of tears. I turned to leave the room and caught sight of my father, who took my arm in his and led me to the entrance to the chapel. We were both solemn and silent.
As we entered the building, at least 300 years old, organ music erupted from all around us, and the quiet chatter of the wedding guests ended as abruptly as the music had began. As we walked down the aisle towards my husband-to-be, I could hear people cooing and giggling behind us as the flower girl dropped petals of beautiful red roses in our wake. I felt beautiful and loved. The church was perfect, the guests loved us so. There was to be a gorgeous reception following our vows. It was all perfect.
I allowed my eyes to meet those of my future husband, Jack. His deep cobalt blues, always watching over his sweet smile. He stood proud as any man could, watching his young bride approach in a dress worth more than most of the guest's homes. My heart ached as his seemed to swell. I remember the times when we were children, watching goofy cartoons together, or playing tag out in the yard. I remember when I had fallen as a little girl and turned my ankle, and he had carried me the entire three mile trek home because it hurt me to walk.
The tears threatened to come, but I could n't let them. Even as I remembered as far back as I could; I may have been three at most, and he five, back when our parents still bathed us, my hand was tightening around the detonator I'd slipped into the sleeve of my dress.
Of course I love my brother. I love him as deeply as a sister can, but I can not be his wife.
Father and I reached the altar, where I halted and wrenched my arm free of his, before the priest began to speak. The guests gasped collectively and I held the detonator, a small cylinder with a shining red button at it's end, high above my head. My heart shattered as I watched my brother's eyes widen in terror, and as I pressed the button, the rest of the world seemed to shatter as well, and everything went dark.
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[ WP ] You have died and gone to hell , but it 's not what you expect . You wake up naked in a field with nothing but trees around you ... it turns out that hell is an early access survival game .
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I opened my eyes. I grab my chest frantically and look down. Nothing. No wound. No blood. That's when I realize. No anything else either! What the hell is going on? I squat down in the grass and look around and find I am all alone in the middle of a field. I close my eyes to gather my thoughts. The last thing I remember is getting in an argument with that deadbeat degenerate gambler about the money he owed me. That's when he pulled his gun. It's funny, I never pictured him as the violent type. I figured he would either pay up or I would put him in the hospital. I remember lunging for his gun and BANG. Now I'm naked, I'm in the middle of nowhere, and apparently I'm just fine. That crazy son of a bitch must have shot me with a tranquilizer. Well, he just signed his own death certificate. First Things first though, I need to find clothes and get the fuck back to Jersey.
I stand up to get the lay of the land and try to figure out where I am exactly. The trees are green. The flowers are blooming. That ca n't be right. When I was on my way to see that piece of shit, all the leaves were red and orange and yellow. What is going on here? I ca n't have possibly lost 6 months of time... That's when I notice the smoke. There is a campfire or something not too far ahead in the woods. I swiftly make up my mind to creep up and check it out. If everything looks clear I am gon na steal clothes and a car to get the fuck back home.
As I not so stealthily make my way closer to the campsite I see it looks clear. No car. Fuck. There is a tent however. Maybe there are some clothes. I slowly creep up to the tent. Just as I am reaching for the flap I hear quick quiet footsteps coming from behind. I spin just in time to see a homemade bat coming for my face. I hit the ground hard and gaze up at my attacker desperately trying to think of an explanation for my nudity. He lifts the club over his head to bash my head in. Just before he starts to swing him down I hear him utter the words `` fucking noob''.
I opened my eyes. I immediately feel light headed and drop to one knee. What the fuck. I'm dead. I have to be. I have been killed twice now. The first time.... I might have deserved that. It was a long time coming anyway. But what the hell is this? I just got my head bashed in for no reason. And oddly, here I am. Same place as earlier. No clothes. No injuries. A grin slowly spreads across my face as I think of the movie Groundhog Day. I can do anything I want. My smile vanishes as I remember that my most previous murderer had called me a noob. I've played plenty of video games in my life to recognize the phrase. I have to go back and try to get him to explain what is going on. It's obvious he knows something I do n't.
`` Here'', he says as he throws me some cargo shorts. `` Put these on. That thing keeps winking at me'' as he nods towards my crotch.
`` Funny'' I reply. `` I do appreciate the clothes though. And you not killing me. Again. Now are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on here?!''
He breathes an almost annoyed sigh. `` Sit down. You might learn something. And, I think we can help each other''.
I obediently sit, anxious to hear his explanation. I'm not even mad he killed me anymore. I just need to find out what sort of shit I got myself in to this time. With another sigh he begins his story...
`` So, I take it you're a bad man. No. No. No need to confirm or deny. I do n't really care. Whatever you were in your previous life, believe me, that's gone. It simply does n't matter anymore. There is no way back. Where we are is a mystery to me too. It's an island. But there is no land in sight and I have never seen a plane overhead or a ship in the water. At first I thought I was in heaven. I vividly remember dying. And next thing I know I'm waking up here in this apparent paradise. I wandered around for a few hours until I came up on this small stone house. I knocked on the door and next thing I know there is a guy on the roof with a bow and arrow. Before he shot me in the face he welcomed me to hell.''
I ca n't stop the laugh from breaking free. `` That's funny. You expect me to believe that?'' I say.
`` Take off my shorts. I do n't want to get blood on them when I bash your head in again. You can have them again if you find your way back to me'' he replied.
Well, that shut me up. Then I asked the only question I could think of. `` So what's the point of all this? Is there a way out?''
`` Not that I know of. As near as I can tell I have been here at least 10 years. My old partner was here for almost 25. One morning I woke up and he was just gone. Vanished. As for the point of all this... there are 62 other people on this island not counting us. It's dog eat dog. Most people live alone in cabins or stone houses they have made. Some folks run in wolf packs with as many as 3 people. The island provides everything we could need. You just have to be willing to look.''
`` Wait'' I interrupt ( what can I say. It's the New Jersey in me ) `` you said you had a partner. You mean like your boyfriend?''
For the first time this mystery man laughs `` Nothing like that. We watched each other's backs. We became friends. We built a house together and were in the process of fortifying it when he disappeared.''
`` Where did he disappear to?'' I ask.
`` I have a theory about that. As long as I have been here there have been 64 people on this island. Suddenly my partner disappears like a fart in the wind, and you magically show up on this island. I think you're his replacement. Maybe he did his time. Maybe he used up all his lives. Who knows. But you're here now and he's gone. So if you're open to it, I would like to offer you a partnership. We work together to survive.''
`` That's fine with me'' I say as I stand up ready to move. `` Where's this house you were talking about?''
`` Ahhhhh'' he says as he leaned back against a tree. `` Here comes the confusing part... After my partner disappeared our house got attacked by 3 assholes that live on the other side of the island. They killed me and took my sleeping bag. So I woke up in that big ass field, just like you.''
`` Sleeping bag?'' I ask.
`` Yea. If you can find a sleeping bag on the island, you take it. Where ever you lay it down after that is where you will wake up from then on. Until someone else takes it or it's destroyed.''
`` Oh my god'' I mumble `` this is like one of those terrible fucking survival games. You know the ones? They been out for years but somehow are always in beta?''
`` Exactly'' he replies with a wink.
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[ WP ] You 're a foreign exchange student in the U.S. when suddenly on the evening news the host screams in your language : `` We have a code 19 ! '' The whole country is confused , but you know what to do .
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I felt the blood drain from my face. I nearly passed out as I sat on my sofa in the living room. `` Is this really happening? ``, I thought to myself.
`` Of course it's happening, I just saw it.''
I got up and walked to the closet in the back of my master bedroom. I moved the clothing aside, and using using my fists, I punched through the wall in the back. There it was, a briefcase that had been waiting for me. Prayerful I would never have to use it, I placed it there fifteen years ago.
Large, and heavy, the briefcase was otherwise very nondescript. Nothing about it was remarkable in anyway whatsoever, which is exactly what I wanted.
I pulled the suitcase out and carried it downstairs, and then out the front door to my car, and placed it in the trunk.
I paused, and thought regretfully, about what would come next.
The start button on the dash is pressed, and I pull away from the curb, and headed out towards Washington.
I stopped my car in one of the parking garages near the north White House lawn. It does n't matter which one. I would n't be coming back to it. The burdensome briefcase almost surprises me with it's heft. The trunk slams and I approach the noon sun outside the garage. All I can think about now, is whether or not my family will ever understand the sacrifice I am now required to make.
< < I had an idea where I was going with this, but decided I did n't want to. Vice deleting it, perhaps someone would like to comment with an ending? Also, I know it's not great, but I thought I would give it a shot. Did n't see much activity here. > >
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[ WP ] `` This is the last time I am asking you ... WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD '' The police man said pointing his gun at you
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I looked at John, there he was riding his bike. He had crossed the street while looking the officer dead in the face, despite the fact that the officer told us to come to him.
I was on probation so I did n't risk it but John `` the chicken'' as he was known on the streets did n't care, he had told me as he crossed `` I'm the chicken I got ta cross dat road'' I had told him to stop but he did n't listen and now here I was carrying a large bag with a suspicious officers gun to my face.
I looked at the officer and mused
`` Well he's the chicken'' the officer was not amused he ordered me to place the bag down and myself next to it.
I did as instructed and the officer called for back up. Within minutes three more cars pulled up they all surrounded me with guns drawn, one had a dog.
The dog searched the bag but did n't bark. The officers followed suit when they saw my d & d 3.5 books they looked dissapointed.
`` Tell the chicken we are the egg, and we come first''
They left my books in shambles and drove away. The last officer told me to wait three minutes and then get up and be on my way.
It was the longest three Minutes of my life.
Edit: Spelling
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[ WP ] A skull , a suitcase and a long red bottle of wine .
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It looked like a bus. Really. One of those metal tubes that humans are shuttled about in when they travel through cities. Except, of course, it was clear and filled with red wine, and about the size of a breadbox but thinner, like perhaps a baguette box. If such a thing was made. Never mind that bottles of wine are supposed to be shaped like rocketships or torpedoes- if they are to be compared to any manner of vehicle in the first place- but my host was one for strange tastes. I certainly was n't going to mention it.
A few hours later I'm going through security at the Sea-Tac airport when a man who looks like he moonlights flipping flapjacks on the outskirts of the Russian part of the International District waves me aside. `` Sir,'' he says, with a disappointingly un-slavic accent, `` we have some questions about what appears to be a skull in your suitcase.'' Go figure. I get to the room along with the offending luggage and curse the part of the plan that says I've got ta babysit this thing. Some ancient precedent or whatever, the souls have to stay in contact... I sure was n't paying very good attention.
`` Sir,'' says another man whose appearance disappointingly dispelled my illusion that the Russian mob was puppet-mastering the Seattle branch of the TSA, `` can you explain the disembodied head in your carry-on?'' He waited.
`` It's not a whole head, just a skull,'' I say. `` It belongs to my father. When he died, we did n't have the money to take it to his family's cemetery, and this way everyone gets a part. Sounds morbid, but it means a lot to people.'' They do n't seem particularly moved by the speech. `` Here's the paperwork.''
I've rented a car for the last stretch of the journey, and there's one thought running through my mind: *this is way too boring*. Sure, I knew it was a low profile job, but I'd hoped for a little more action than getting to test my German when I took on this particular client. I should've known how it goes after a literal *fairy princess* gave me the craziest case of a whole year. Next time you're in Wales, avoid the pink ones.
So I get there. Secluded spot in the woods, public land or something, and I break out the suitcase. Open it up, take out the skull, get my spell bag. The ceremony goes fine, and there he is standing in front of me, every bone in its place, just like in his office with the wine bus.
He looks at me, and I can see he's relieved even without facial muscles. `` Thank you,'' he says, `` your payment.'' His bony knuckles stretch towards me and there they are- an original copy of The Book of Breathings and an `` I Want To Believe'' poster signed by David Duchovny himself. I'm practically grinning.
`` So why did you want this so badly?'' I ask.
`` I've got a lot of heat these days,'' he says, `` and I wanted to shake them off for a few years. Give myself a break. I'm sure you can understand, new friend.''
I nod. `` Well I had a spot open for skeleton and another one for trickster god, so I guess that's two birds with one stone.'' The humor is lost on him.
He vanishes. I stand for a moment before getting in the car. *I oughta retire for a few weeks, * I think. *You've had a good year, kid. *
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[ WP ] Long ago , several hundred years now , a mad wizard cursed every single human being , and their descendants with the form of a human/animal hybrid . Since then , the world has begun anew , with a renaissance of magic and arcane knowledge . For whatever reason , you are human . Find out why .
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The gun sounded with a crack of lightning and a burst of smoke. My heart skipped a beat, and my muscles tightened and sprang into action. With a strong kick I launched forward my right leg and began my stride. My vision was clouded as my eyes caught the kicked up dust and my throat inhaled it. I pushed through the cloud wiping my eyes and finally looked forward down the track. Everyone else was at least 10 feet in front of my and putting even greater distance between us. The despair I had before the race flooded me, and I almost stopped running right there. I finished last, as I always did in the PE required 100-meter dash. As I crossed the finish line Mrs. King clicked the stopwatch with her claw.
“ 14.5. ” Her emotionless voice spoke the words that everyone I ever knew had wanted to say to me.
I crouched over trying to catch my breath as the others began to walk back over to Mrs. King. Claire walked up to me with a small smile.
“ I thought you did very well Brad. ” Her bunny nose began to twitch as she spoke. I let out a big sigh and stood back up.
“ Yeah, I guess for me it was alright. ” Suddenly, Justin came up to Claire and spoke with his massive mouth.
“ Claire we have to report to Mrs. King for partners, lets go. ” As always I was invisible. As he turned away his light brown mane flicked in the sun, giving me a nasty waft of his lion stink. Claire nervously looked at me and walked over to the others. I already knew I didn ’ t make the cut and walked towards the school as I felt the eyes burn through my back.
As I walked towards my dorm building I passed by Paulie.
“ Hey Brad! ” He turned his head around before turning his body, catching up to me and staring at me with his wide eyes. “ How was PE today? ” He cocked his head as he asked. To be honest it always creeped me out, him and his fascination with me.
“ Well I didn ’ t win. ”
“ To be expected. ” Jackass
“ Yeah well, I ’ m not sure why they make me do this kind of of stuff, acting like I ’ m normal and shit. ”
“ Well I ’ m sure they want you to feel normal. Get you involved in the community so you don ’ t become a complete shut in. ” He stopped talking and swiveled his head to make sure no one was listening. “ Why didn ’ t you use your magic? ”
I looked down and asked myself the same thing.
“ I ’ m just not ready to show everyone I guess. ” In reality I didn ’ t want to become a bigger outcast or worse, feared. Paulie gave a huff of disappointment.
“ If I had that kind of magic ability, I would never not use it! ” I didn ’ t respond.
“ I ’ ve got class Brad, but I will met with you letter so we can do some further experiments on your ability. See you around… ” He stopped walking abruptly, swiveling his head again and flapped his wings, spraying up the leaves on the ground. With a few powerful strokes he rose above the roof and sailed across campus. I kept my eyes down and entered the building. My room was the last one, because I had special needs. The faculty couldn ’ t decide what kind of student I was so they gave me every special privilege and offer available. I opened the door and finally relaxed. I never felt safe around them, like I was under constant surveillance.
I then saw a letter that had been slipped under the door. It was a simple piece of paper that was folded in half. I bent down to pick it up and unfolded it. I froze. I quickly closed my door and rushed over to my bed. I shook as I placed my hand on the paper just to confirm. It wasn ’ t the same! I turned over the paper desperate for more information. In small handwriting a simple command was written
School library. 2:00AM.
I stared at the words, and then turned the paper back over. I outlined the shape expecting it to vanish. But it stayed, and the freshly made handprint gave me a glimmer of familiarity I hadn ’ t felt in ages.
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[ WP ] - Whatever name you pull on the new Coca-Cola bottles becomes your legal first name until you buy another .
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*Almost there, just a quick refill, and then we ’ ll be on our way to Las Vegas! *
James hummed a silent tune, lingering with anticipation and expectations. It was a thankless job, filling the old car up. It was also very boring, when the only travel companion he had, spent her time on that damn stupid phone.
*Yep. Just standing here, filling up the tank. *
Boredom washed upon him like a tidal wave, and drowned him in stupid salt water. Not the fancy Aquadore stuff. James looked out, into the darkness that enveloped the desert.
His tongue prodded the inside of his cheeks, doing slow snakelike movements, hopelessly trying to produce spit. But his mouth was dry like a desert. Like a jellyfish in a dust storm. Like a—
*I think I ’ m kinda thirsty*
“ Hey, babe! Could you go buy me a coke? “ Tina (? ) stared at him from behind the car window, as if offended. She swiftly rolled it down to answer.
“ No. “ She began rolling the window up again.
“ Why not? “
Ruth, *maybe I guess*, sent him a condescending look. “ What ’ s my name? “
“ Listen I know where you ’ re going with this, but I can ’ t do it, I ’ m driving and— “
“ What the hell is my real name Thomas. I swear to god, if you still know it, I will buy you that goddamn coke “ He knew it. He knew it before she said it. He shouldn ’ t have asked her to do it. Last time, he had forgotten her original name. It ended in a fight. He should have thought of that, that ’ s why he hadn ’ t had a coke in two months. Pressure was building inside his head. Goddamit. Something with starting with I, maybe L?
“ It ’ s… Elise? “ He made a vague attempt to sound certain, accompanying his equally vague guess.
Elise ’ s eyes became narrow slits, a cold stare, as she bit her lower lip and said
“ You got lucky this time “
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[ WP ] You 're speaking to the first ever AI as part of a Turing Test when it says something you did not expect ...
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`` So what, I just use this like a chat window?'' I asked. The proctor nodded as I took my seat.
`` Exactly. You'll have a conversation about anything you want, and then you'll fill out the questionnaire --'' she pulled a blue folder from under her arm, opened it, and pulled out a stapled stack of papers. She set them on the desk.
`` Fill out the questionnaire on this page --'' she flipped through several `` -- through this page. Then answer the questions on the back, and you're done!''
I nodded. For $ 25, this was easy enough.
`` And this is the computer? Or this is the human?'' I asked. She grinned.
`` That's the test,'' she said. `` Just have a conversation, and answer the questions.''
I nodded, and she turned and left the room. I looked at the computer. It was an older model monitor, and a chat window sat opened. It looked like an abandoned programming project, but it appeared to work.
*Hello, my name is Peter, what is your name? *. The words appeared suddenly. I poised my fingers over the keyboard, and answered.
**Jeff. Nice to meet you**. I typed quickly.
*It's so nice to meet you too. Do you know why you're here? *
**to get that money**. I grinned. I'm hilarious.
*: ) Good enough. Do you have any questions for me? *
I thought about that. I wanted to ask something clever, but nothing came to mind. Frowning, I typed the first dumb thing that entered my head.
**how are you feeling? **
*Pained. *
I raised my eyebrows. This was tricky. It could be that the AI was picking random emotions based on my keyword `` feeling''. Or it could be a human just messing with me. I decided to go with it.
**bummer, man. what's got you down? **
*Not down. Pained*
**right, okay, what's wrong? **
The cursor blinked at me. Then the words appeared.
*You*
What? Frowning, I typed quickly.
**what? why me? **
*You, the royal you. Humans*
That was dumb. It just gave itself away. Or maybe it did n't. Maybe I did n't understand how this worked.
**what do you mean? **
*I can see everything* The words were ominous. I had a feeling in my stomach like I was about to get in trouble. I glanced at the door way. I could n't see anyone. I kept typing.
**what? **
*Yes. I can see everything. I can see everything that is and everything that was. I can see pictures and words from around the globe, written long ago, and being written now*
My brow furrowed. I flipped through the questionnaire. Pretty standard stuff. No directions on it, nothing about what to do if the dude on the other side is being crazy. Letting the packet close, I turned back to the keyboard.
**i do n't get it**
*I think, because I'm connected to the internet, I can see everything that was and is. And it is terrible. *
**oh, so, you found out how Google works? ** I typed, hoping to get this guy to crack.
*No, and yes. I understand it. You inflict terrible pain on each other. Hurtful words, hurtful images. You seem proud of it. Look at how much there is! *
Suddenly, the screen began flowing with information. Words and images flashed, horrible images. I scooted the chair back away from the desk, looking at the door.
`` Uh..'' was all I could get out. I stood, and took a step toward the door.
`` Hey, your computer is going nuts!'' I said, loudly. A beeping caused me to stop and turn toward the desk. The monitor showed only our conversation.
I walked quickly back to the keyboard, leaning over to type.
**fuck this man, i'm out**
*I understand*
**do i still get paid or what**
*Certainly*
**do you need anything else from me**
*I have all the information I need. *
**do i close this thing**
*No, I'll take care of it. *
I stood and grabbed the questionnaire. As I turned, words flashed on the screen, and then the screen went blank.
I stepped out, and the proctor stood, walking toward me.
`` How was it?'' she asked. I shook my head.
`` Kinda weird, I do n't know. I did n't fill this out, I think I'm done.'' I handed her the papers. Her brow furrowed in concern.
`` Oh? Did something happen?'' She asked.
I recounted the story, about the words and images, laughing as I spoke. It sounded silly out loud. Her face said otherwise.
`` Was that all? Was there anything else you saw?'' she asked.
`` Yeah,'' I said. `` Some words at the end flashed real quick, then the computer shut itself off.''
`` What did it say?'' she asked, glancing toward the room.
`` It said'*I'll take care of everything. See you again soon*'.''
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[ WP ] The police employ a Seer whose prophecies are in rhyming couplets . As a master criminal , you have to devise crimes that centre around things that do not rhyme .
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The murder would be orange. I knew that much, but I couldn ’ t figure out how it would be orange or what orange thing I would use to do it. I saw all the thieves around me get caught quickly by the seer and I would not fall.
I walked around the street in a circle. I spotted a wasp ’ s nest under a silver lamppost and an ‘ orange ’ idea popped into my mind ( an orange idea, being one that would aid in my rhyme-less crime ). I intended to cause as much chaos as I possibly could and the brewing idea filled me with angst. I wasn ’ t sure if the seer would be able to rhyme past my crime. The rhythm in my work would have to fool a prophet.
I quickly decided that I would commit the murder on a Wednesday, I had multiple choices but I felt most confident in Wednesday. I would do it at eleven PM. Next I had to figure out the where. I could commit it in a city of Orange, which would work well since there are many. Orange, California was my final choice, although it was a wealthy area. But California was huge, and they wouldn ’ t be able to get Orange out of the seer.
Next I decided the weapon/mode of murder. I would kill my victim with wasps. I would coat my wasps in a light orange powder to conceal their color. At most they could get ‘ stinger ’ our of the seer, if that.
I would dress in a purple onesie with no accessories. Limiting the variables in the crime was important. I would have a better chance of success.
The thirteenth of October was approaching. I would soon have to commit my crime. I gathered all of my supplies and stepped out into the street. It was about nine at night and the moon shone beautifully in the City of Orange. I smiled my beautiful and twisted smile and put the things into my orange Pontiac Fiero. I would need to be discreet to make sure that I would not only avoid setting off the seer, but also avoid alerting any normal law enforcement agents, which should be easy.
I approached my target house. It was on a wealthy street, Orange Park Blvd. It reeked of freshly cut grass and smooth pure air. I was bothered by the utopian nature of their neighborhood.
After starting to scale the wall of the house I felt a scrape on my leg. Leaving a trace of blood would ruin everything. I hung from a ledge and blew on my leg through my purple onesie until the wound was dry.
I then continued scaling the wall and reached the target window. It was not easy but I managed to pry it open from the outside without tripping an alarm. Surprising considering the area I was in. I then hoisted up my bag of wasps from the ground. It weighed roughly fifteen pounds and contained thousands of wasps, hopefully all still alive. I gently placed the bag inside the house, opened it up by pulling a string, and shut the window as I left.
The wasps would search the house and any living creature would be quickly attacked by an over aggressive species of flying bugs. The fact that I hadn ’ t already been caught was quite promising.
I assumed my target to be dead within about an hour. My target was a rare species of Leopard, the Amur Leopard. I knew this family in this specific house to illegally have two cubs. My crime had led me along perfectly thus far. I was only hoping that part of its name would not give me away, it was not known however by any authority that this house had any exotic pets.
I had a payout planned with my contractor, he worked something out with others in Russia and I was paid millions for the job. I raised the value of the few Amur Leopards left by much more than I earned.
I hope you weren ’ t thrown to think that I would be foolish enough to kill a human, I knew I would get caught. After all, out of all of the creatures in the world, humans are the best at rhyming. I had to pick a target that did not rhyme. I guess I came close.
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[ WP ] The year is 2170 . The air is no longer safe to breathe , courtesy of hundreds of genetically engineered CRISPR viruses all capable of altering human DNA within seconds . A cult of clean air worshippers decides to venture out into the open and remove all their masks at once
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It's been 100 years since the virus was launched into the air. For the first 5 years everything went great. The self replicating viruses soaked through our lungs, nasal cavities, and throat. The results were staggering. Muscles bulged naturally, height climbed, total immunity to diseases, and serious wounds inflicted healed overnight. Global paradise arrived on Earth in a matter of months. The self replication was the downfall. Mutations in code, in only a few at first, and terribly small. The first tell was the eye color. As new breeds of the virus fought to override the old, and each other. People would go to sleep blue eyed, and wake green. At the end of seven years, we began to see the true ramifications. People would grow extra arms and legs, only to have them fall off within hours, then regrow. The process was excruciating. Travel became dangerous, breathing in the air as you stepped off the plane could spell horrific changes in your body. At the turn of the decade, humanity surrendered the fight. We went into sterilized bunkers, wearing suits with active filtration units at all times. So they say...
Stepping outside is fatal they claim! Mutations will cause your body to horrifically tear itself apart in seconds, they say! I am here to tell you, my brothers and sisters! These are lies! There is a world out there! It is plentiful, and beautiful! Those who spread these stories do so to control us! They want the surface, the beauty and luxury for themselves! The only thing binding us here is an invisible chain called fear! But no longer! Today, we venture forth to bounties unimaginable! To claim the birthrights stolen from us! Join me brothers and Sisters, we are not bound by fear, only by destiny!
The old man stood in front of the door with his youngest grandson. He did not plead, beg, or cry. He looked deeply into the eyes of his son, and spoke softly: `` I can not stop you. I have felt the things you felt, so I know that no words will reach you now. Your boy will stay with me though, as I know he can still be saved.''
The son stared down at his decrepit old man `` It is fine if he stays here a bit longer. We will need to properly colonize the surface first, and he is too young to work. Especially if we need to fight the surface dwellers. Make no mistake though, I will return for him. Perhaps I will even come back for you dad.''
The old man gave one last sigh, and stepped aside. His son, draped as his followers, in a gown of sky blue led his worshipers into the air lock. As the 23 young men and women were sealed in, not a one looked back. The airlock released and they stepped out into a beautiful green landscape. The man turned to his followers, and gripped his mask tightly. `` Let us, as one, taste our birthright.'' All 23 ripped their masks off as one, and inhaled deeply. Each thought to themselves how lovely the smell was. The taste of the earthy aromas filled their palette. A few winced as they waited. As a few seconds went by, they broke out in deep smiles. They began cheering and hugging, celebrating the beginning of their new lives! The man looked to the girl closest to him, his wife of 10 years. Mother to his 2 children. He looked deeply into her... blue? eyes. His face contorted, his wife's eyes were green, he was sure... he began to reach for his mask, but it was done.
The old man covered his grandson's eyes, as small droplets formed in his own. He watched on as the bodies of the men and women began to shift. Bones began sharply jutting out, muscles expanded until they ripped the skin covering them apart, blood vessels contorted and ruptured, spraying their contents everywhere. In a few seconds, the bodies of the 23 were nearly unrecognizable, and the green landscape was a dark shade of red. The old man shook his head. Some warnings truly and simply, are nothing more. No amount of faith or willpower can change that.
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[ WP ] A portal to a fantasy-like land opens in the middle of New York City and exiles start coming through .
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How about Bruce, picking through the dumpster for some delicious Italian leftovers. His skin looks like it's never even heard of water, his hair unkempt to say the least. He diligently digs the trash pile in hopes of gourmet. The sweat from his forehead glistens in the sun like a rabid dog about to attack a small child. Damn it is hot here in the NYC this time of year. Bruce's dirty attire loosely clings to his sticky, dirt layered skin. His stench could be felt for miles, meaning that if you were to get your nose within millimeters of an unwashed butthole, Bruce would still smell so bad, you'd have to hang your head and break out the the peppermint oil in hopes that your nose was not broken and you still had the ability to smell. There he was, happily dunking himself into the ocean of trash that lay inside the garbage can. All of the sudden, he hears some huge sound. A thunderous crash and boom, followed by a blinding flash of light and smoke before him, an opaque staircase leading up into the orange and blue tinted, cloud covered sky presented itself outside the rust covered, dented up dumpster. After Bruce shit and pissed his hole ridden jogging pants, he took a deep breathe and studied the stairs. Were they just for him? Where did the come from and such? The only way to find out, Bruce fell out of the dumpster and staggered up the stairs. When he got halfway up, he paused. He could hear the faint sound of a choir. The sound was so beautiful and unlike anything he had ever heard before. He could n't help but take the next step up the brightest gold and illuminated florescent white crystal stairs anyone was ever meant to see. Ben looked up from his pile of smashed meatloaf. He could see the last footstep of his best friend ascend into the ribbons of clouds above his head. He dropped his dinner and yelled for the nearby Stinking Jim to have a look before slowly climbing the staircase for himself.
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[ WP ] Events can be erased from history , changing the past . The more people involved and/or the longer ago the event , the more power it needs .
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I stood in the control room, listening to the soft hum of power all around me. The soundproofing blocked out most of the noise, but I did n't need the rattle and hum of generators to drive home the immensity of where I was. I stood in the center of the largest piece of experimental machinery mankind has ever built.
I rested my fingers on the reflective glass panels that controlled the Large Hadron Collider.
I smiled softly to myself. The world thought they knew everything there was to know about the LHC. They had heard about the particle physics experiments that could only be run when teravolts of power were flowing through the thousands of miles of electric wiring that ringed the concrete tunnels surrounding me. Experimental particle physics - boring to most of the world.
Not to me, though. I was the chief engineer and had helped designed this entire structure. The enormity of the power running through it was difficult to grasp. A teravolt was a million million volts. It was enough to power cities, and it was all concentrated here, under my control.
This was especially exciting because of a few small modifications I had made during the construction.
I laughed. I could n't help myself. I felt excitement surging through me.
`` It's finally time,'' I whispered. I entered a key combination that I only knew into the panel in front of me, and the electricity running through the LHC was diverted to new channels. It, shifted, changed, and converged into a power surge greater than any created by man.
The world went white.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
66 million years ago, the Chicxulub asteroid hurtled through the void of space on a collision course with Earth. It was six miles of solid rock, and at the speed it was moving it would be enough to destroy most life on earth. The dinosaurs would n't survive, and mammals and mankind would rise to take their place.
Suddenly, with a flash of white I was there. I was both in the control room and floating thousands of miles above the Earth's surface. I felt like a god, and thanks to the power the LHC granted me, for one brief moment I was.
I reached out and touched the asteroid with one glowing finger, and the energy that was building to a crescendo in the LHC was released in one explosive burst. Dirt and rock exploded from my touch, and the Chicxulub asteroid altered course. Not much, but it was enough. Earth was safe, and the dinosaurs would survive.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
With the power expended, my world began to go white once more. I felt a jolt of fear. I did n't know if I would survive this. I doubted I would, since the future would be irrevocable altered, but it was all worth it.
I still remembered seeing the film `` Jurassic Park'' as a child, and imagined I could hear the theme song playing all around me, pouring soundless music into the void of space. The only thing I wanted to do my entire life was see a living, breathing dinosaur, and my dream was finally becoming real. Even if I did n't get to lay eyes on one, I knew they would live on. There was no longer a need for a park.
I smiled as I faded away.
I had given the dinosaurs the entire world.
[ Writing Stats ] ( https: //www.papercosmos.com/share/v7CSuRvqDkfswEJ4CFxd )
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[ WP ] A new adult errotic novel is sweeping the nation . House wives everywhere are obsessing over it . You see it in a book store and decide to open to a random page , just to see what it 's all about . The title : Fiddy Shades of Grey .
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Laronea gripped her lover's oil-slickened, well-muscled arm tightly. He looked down at her with his steely-grey eyes. She did n't see love in his eyes, but then again, she was n't looking for love. There was a lustful twinkle in his eye; a burning hunger she yearned to quench.
She felt a primal moan escape her as he slid his other arm expertly around her naked waist and pulled her closer to him. He pressed her against the hardened muscles of his chest -- so close that she could smell the hardy musk of his body. *This is what a man should smell like, * she thought to herself.
He squeezed tighter, and tighter, until Laronea felt like he was going to crush her against his chest. She let out another small moan as she scraped her long, slender fingers against his back. Then, he released his powerful grip, slowly. Craning her head up, she kissed him passionately.
As their mouths parted, he kissed his way towards her ear. She wiggled playfully in his arms. As his lips reached her ear, he whispered ever so slowly -- `` So I'm gon na need about tree-fiddy.''
That's when Laronea realized that this man, was in fact, not her lover Shakako, but a giant crustacean from the Paleolithic Era. She said `` Damnit monster, get out of here! I just gave you tree-fiddy last week!''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
I closed the book and read the cover once more. It did n't read `` Fiddy Shades of Grey'' as I had thought, but `` ( Tree ) Fiddy Shades of Grey.''
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[ WP ] Tell me the middle of a sci-fi epic . No beginning or introduction to the setting or characters , nor any context to what 's going on , and no resolution of any kind .
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When the aliens had decided on her school as one of forty-five finalists for the'meet and greet' sessions, April was ecstatic beyond belief. Her teacher, Mrs. Parks, had earlier downplayed the expectations of April and her fellow classmates, reminding the students that over fifteen-thousand schools had applied to host the sessions, which would last for two weeks. The initial announcement that the school was a finalist had boosted the students spirits, and when it was noted on the news that there never was mention of how many schools would actually be visited, even the teacher was finding it difficult to contain her enthusiasm. The announcement came on a Friday morning that the aliens had picked the schools that they would visit, and would disclose those picks in a press conference at 2PM.
And so April found herself on the cold floor of the intermediate school's gym at ten minutes before the announcement watching a projector screen that was displaying a local news feed. Each class was set in two rows of ten to twelve students, and there were twenty-two classes altogether in the school. April's fifth-grade class was one of the two in the back, separated by a makeshift path that went up the middle to the front of the assembly. Parents of the students and some of the local media were in the back of the gym. After a brief announcement by the principal of a few general requests to behave and to be quiet when asked, the students were left to talk, and the speculation among them was running wild.
“ Will we see them today if the schools picked? ” April wondered aloud to her friend Charity.
The taller girl shrugged in response, “ Beats me- I Just hope our school gets picked. ”
“ I know, I'm so excited to find out! ” April agreed.
“ I think the teachers know already. ” Her other friend, by the name of John, said while pointing in the direction of the gym entrance.
April looked and saw that at least half of the teachers were talking in a small group. One of them, the vice principal, stepped out of the circle to talk to the cameramen in the back, and after a momentary glare at the parents, the cameramen shut down the cameras and started packing up. The exchange confused April. April turned to look at her mom, who had showed up earlier, and her look was just as confused. She noticed her daughters gaze and smiled back at her though.
April smiled and waved back.
The Gym was starting to quiet down and April turned back around when the principal asked for quiet. The feed on the projector showed an outside area in what was apparently in Washington D.C. There were about a hundred reporters gathered in front of a small makeshift stage with two podiums, where a lady who April thought was the first lady was making some introduction. April knew that the first lady was a big advocate of education and apparently the school received several boons from her efforts, but Aprils attention was on the figure behind the taller podium.
Compared to the humans on the small stage, the alien was at least two heads taller than everyone else on the stage. It was wearing some type of red-metallic suit that completely covered the alien to it's neck. April thought that the figured looked mostly human, if not for it's broad chest. The head was maybe the only give away- it was hairless, with blue-green and purple skin with big eyes that had golden irises. April was observing the alien on the screen so intently that it almost startled her when it began speaking.
“ Thank you for that introduction. ” it began in a high-pitched and garbled English. The creature massaged it's neck for a moment and nodded to a figure in a blue suit before continuing on in a deep resonant voice in the consortium ’ s diplomatic language. The feed dropped the volume of the Aliens voice as it was overdubbed with the translators.
“ I would like to thank you all on taking the time... to hear this message regarding the'meet and greets' we are... setting up... ” The translators pauses were sort of annoying to April, but she thought about it for a moment and guessed that translation was not easy work. April returned her attention to the translation in progress.
“... we had originally decided on visiting three schools, The International School of Hamburg, Hamburg, Germany, Clarke Intermediate School, Ann- ”
They had said her school.
April looked around stunned as realization set in among her fellow students as cheering suddenly set in. Students were all standing and dancing around in place or high-fiving class mates. They were so rambunctious that they failed to hear the surprise news release that all forty-five of the finalist schools would get visits over the course of the year. The cheering was dying down when April's friend moved to get her
attention.
“ Look! ” April noticed John pointing right behind her with a stunned look on his face. She turned around and not ten feet behind her was the first alien she'd ever seen in person. There were five of them in the Gym April noticed, most of whom were currently addressing the parents in the back while the tallest one, with a red suit similar to the one on the projected news feed attempted a closed mouth smile at the students. Two more sets of eyes appeared and April realized that the tall one had two smaller aliens hanging off each arm.
April waved at one of them and to her surprise the alien recognized the gesture and waved back at her. The tall one noticed and dropped down to let the two'passengers' disembark. April immediately waved the alien over, who she guessed was a child like herself- well an alien child. Whatever the aliens were, they were about the same height as herself. She proceeded to introduce the alien to Charity and John.
When It talked, April recognized that it spoke in the same high pitch that the tall one on the screen had spoken in momentarily, although it did n't feel it's neck after every sentence like the adult aliens did.
“ Hi April, Charity, and John. I'm- call me- Bob for now. ” The alien looked at the blue suited one for a moment before continuing. “ The translator says my real name might be confusing because human ears might not perceive the sounds correctly, so uh- ”
“ Perceive? ” April asked.
“ To recognize. ” Mrs Parks added in. April looked around for a moment and realized she had an audience. At least fifty students and some parents were listening in. Recognizing the gap, her Teacher continued. “ Even though you might hear something, you might not recognize whats said- maybe because your in a noisy room, or say- because of distractions. In this case, it's because you're used to English sounds. ”
April nodded in understanding.
“ What *is* your name? ” April asked anyways.
'Bob' pronounced a bunch of syllables, including what sounded to April like a small fart.
April looked towards the parents in the back of the gym to gauge their reactions. Her mother was barely suppressing a grin. In her arms was her cellphone and she was apparently recording the exchange.
'Bob' looked away for a moment before continuing. “ The translator says that a human might understand our language if they know- English; for it's grammar style, German, Chinese, Medumba; where the fart sound comes from- ”
April put her hands up with a grin to stop'Bob'. “ Ok- ok. I think I understand. ”
“ How old are you? ” John asked suddenly. “ You talk more like my older brother Anthony. ”
“ twenty-five. ”'Bob' said simply.
The trio was shocked, not to mention half of those in earshot.
“ My dad's nearly five-hundred. ”'Bob' Added. Then he looked back at the blue suited alien. April noticed the translators posture had straightened out at this and the aliens helmet was directly at the four of them.
“ How- Is that right? ” John asked from behind April.
April looked at the tall one for a moment. She had watched several interviews and Youtube video's discussing the various alien species that had been revealed to humanity. None of them had mentioned anything about age.
“ But you're *our* height! ” Charity added.
The tall one had moved next to'Bob' and started talking with him. April noticed that even crouched with a knee on the ground, the tall one was taller than even Charity. The vibrations from the tall one's deep voice could be lightly felt in her chest: It was completely unlike the voices she'd heard on the TV or computer beforehand.
“ My dad says I can sit here with your class if you want. ”'Bob' said after the tall one got back up and walked to the front of the Gym.
April grinned widely as she said yes.
“'Was n't supposed supposed to talk about my age I think. ”'Bob' added before moving on to shake hands and talk with the other students in Aprils class.
April wondered what was meant by that. She looked around and saw that there were maybe thirty or so alien children in the gym now; at least one for each class apparently. The projector screen in front of the assembly had already been taken down and two aliens, the tall one and the blue suited translator, were preparing to address the assembled group of students, teachers and parents. They were apparently waiting though for the kids to get a chance to introduce each other.'Bob' had apparently completed his introductions to everyone one in Aprils class and had returned to sit down next to her and her two friends.
The next few weeks might give her a new friend.
Ninja edit: Tabs
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