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[ WP ] `` do you still believe in God ? '' said the Creature to the astronaut .
| Coffee was a strange refreshment in space. You did n't get to sip on it from a ceramic mug, like you used to. Everything came in a sports bottle now.
Still, though. It was hot, and it was strong, and for that reason alone, it was amazing.
`` Used to be better back home?'' the voice asked.
`` I suppose,'' I responded. `` I'd appreciate if you'd stop doing that, though.''
`` I'm... how did you say it...'curious.' You are very interesting.''
`` I did n't invite you in,'' I told *it. * `` Just because I have n't found a way to remove you yet, does n't mean you have free reign to read my thoughts.''
The creature did n't smile,'nor cry,'nor laugh. But it did talk. Ever since it entered my body, it has been talking incessantly.
`` That's... how did you say it... rude.''
`` So is invading my body, you parasite.'' I tapped on my gut, which had grown bigger since the creature found it's way inside. `` At the very least, stop reading my mind, you worm.''
`` You do n't have to be embarrassed,'' the creature reassured me. I could feel it stirring inside my stomach. `` Every creature thinks of these things. Perhaps not as often as you do, and certainly with less... how do you say it... toys involved... but it ca n't be helped. Not when you've been alone for so long, at least.''
`` Christ,'' I groaned. `` You have no idea how disturbing it is that you do this.''
`` I have some idea. Your thoughts are very clear.'' He paused for a moment and I could feel him re-adjusting. `` What is this, as you said it,'Christ?' You've said it many times, but I do n't understand. You blurt it without any clear thoughts in your head.''
`` Yeah, it's more instinctual now.'' I squeezed a glob of hot coffee into my mouth and slowly let it seep down my throat. `` It's an expression. It means I'm tired of your shit.''
`` I see an image of a man when you say it, sometimes.''
`` It's a man's name.''
`` A friend of yours?''
`` Used to be. I was baptized. Christ was big in my life for a while. So was his dad.''
`` You met his father?''
`` No,'' I said. Kicking off from the ground, I let myself float around in the cabin. The stars never give me a good hint of where I'm at. Am I upside-down right now, or right-side up? Does that exist out here?
`` Please,'' the creature requested, `` elaborate. This interests me.''
`` What do you think your purpose is?'' I asked.
`` Purpose?''
`` Yeah, what do you live for? Why were you made?''
`` I live,'' he responded. `` Do you need a purpose to live? I do not know how I was made, only what I have done in my life. Is that important?''
`` It is back on Earth. No one really knows the answers to those questions, but we love to debate it. We've fought over it, you know? People have killed and been killed over their answers.''
`` Thoughts are so important to you, after all. You are a wonderful host. This is all so very... how do you say it...'educational'''.
`` Thanks,'' I said. Kicking off from the ceiling of the cabin, I worked my way through the door back into the kitchen. Having filled up my bottle again, I took another sip of fresh coffee.
`` How would you answer those questions?'' the creature asked me.
`` I do n't know either,'' I explained. `` I used to live for family... but well... you know that already.''
`` Yes,'' he responded. `` I am, as you say, sorry.''
`` No you're not,'' I called him out. `` You're just saying that because you learned it from me.''
`` And you learned it from someone else,'' he said.
*True, I guess. *
`` Either way,'' I returned to topic. `` Now, I do n't really know what I'm living for. I enjoy it, I guess. And, like I said, I was baptized, so I guess I believed I was created by God.''
The creature did n't respond. He only stirred, seemingly uncomfortable, inside my stomach. I pushed my way to the bunks and sat down with an e-reader. It was n't often that I ended up reading anything, but the glow of it and the black-and-white text was comforting, nonetheless.
`` Do...'' the creature spoke, `` do you still believe in God?''
Back on Earth, on solid ground, it was never a big decision for me. *Yes. No. Not really. A little? * My answer depended on my mood.
Somehow, sitting in this metal tube out in space, talking to a worm inside my gut... the decision seemed heavier. It felt more final.
`` You tell me,'' I said. `` You're picking up on my thoughts, are n't you? How do I feel about it?''
He danced around a bit, and then settled back down, coiling himself. `` I do n't know. You're not clear, are you?''
`` I guess not.''
`` Neither am I, now.'' He sat in silence, but I could tell he was awake. Somehow, I could sense that he was thinking hard.
`` Want to have a debate about it?'' he asked, suddenly.
I could n't stop the laugh that came out. `` You're asking me to have a debate with you?''
`` Why not? It's just us out here, after all.''
`` What?'' I said, sitting up in bed. `` You getting bored? Lonely?''
`` Not sure,'' he responded.
*What the hell. *
`` Yeah, sure. I'll debate you on it. I'll argue pro-God, first, then we switch?'' I patted my stomach, still chuckling a little. `` You're not gon na kill me though if I say something you do n't like, will you?''
`` No,'' he assured me. `` Not over this.''
_______________
Critiques are super-welcome. I'd love to hear whether or not y'all enjoyed it, and how I can improve. ( * ) >
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[ WP ] A Special Task Force is send into a remote town to investigate the sudden disappearance of all it 's residents . The last radio transmission of the local police was incomprehensible , and since then , no communication has occured .
| `` Radio Three do you copy?''
`` Copy. Your transmissions are still coming in loud and clear, over.''
Simon frowned and looked at his squad member, who shrugged. It was extremely strange that their comms still worked in this area. The unit had been informed they would be in the dark upon getting close to the operation area. They were just a klick outside of the mysterious town, on a hill overlooking it, and not a sign of life could be seen through Simon's binocular.
`` Radio Three, we're moving in.''
`` Roger, we're in position and got your back.''
Simon and his squad slowly descended the hill, quietly. They wore black, light leather armor, making them nearly invisible in the darkness. Their weapons were equipped with a new supression technology that made shots nearly inaudible. Simon pressed his back against a building and looked around the corner. He whispered quietly into his walkie.
`` R-3, still got us?''
`` Affirmative. Move up, over.''
The unit advanced up the mainstreet towards the square. In the distance Simon spotted a black figure sitting up against the fountain in the middle of the town's square. He looked through his thermal binoculars and confirmed it was a human.
`` Got a human in my sights, Falcon, advice, over?''
`` Weapons cold unless fired upon. You're cleared to advance, over.''
They approached the slumped man and emerged through the darkness, illuminated only by a single streetlamp next to the man. The man looked wounded badly, but he was still alive and concious. Simon's rifle pointed straight at his head, a tiny lazer dot on the mans forehead like an Indian's marking.
`` You're finally here...'', he said, coughing. `` Help me up.''
The squad helped him up, supporting his weight.
`` Please, I know you are eager to interrogate me, but we must first find shelter. Trust me. Lead me to the town hall.'', said the man, and nodded forth, to the town hall just up ahead.
They climbed the stairs and opened the doors quietly. Simon went in first. It was completely pitch black. The others were n't far behind. Simon illuminated the path ahead with the flashlight attached to his weapon and advanced silent as a mouse. The wounded man made a strange sound, like a bird, a whistle, and the room exploded with light and loud applause, and cheers. Simon and his squad were nearly blinded and accidently fired a few rounds into the ground. Balloons and confetti fell from the roof as Ashton Kucher descended from the roof attached to wires, screaming at the top of his lungs; `` You've been PUNK'D!'' The missing people swarmed from every dark corner of the room, laughing. Until they realized Ashton Kucher had a large hole in the back of his head and Simon's weapon oozed with smoke. A single round clicked against the floor, echoing through the now silent room.
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[ WP ] Gordon Ramsay agrees to star in `` Primitive Cooking Nightmares '' , in which contestants are thrown into the wild and must survive long enough to cook something that Ramsay approves of .
| `` What the fuck is this? Tony could have cooked better than this and he died yesterday''
The woman broke down into tears, clean lines running down her dirt encrusted face. A month of being transported from wilderness to wilderness had crushed most contestants spirits. Gordon Ramsey on the other hand seem rejuvenated by each new failure, each disgusting concoction thrown in a crying face.
An emaciated man scurried forward, his offering held in front of him, steaming meat on a wooden platter.
Gordon leaned forward on his crudely constructed wooden throne and sniffed at the food.
`` What the fuck is this then?''
The man shook briefly, then steadied himself.
`` Uh its uh flame grilled steaks with a uh wild berry reduction. Garnished with wild mushrooms''.
Gordon scoffed and tore of a bit of the meat, raising it to his lips. He chewed thoughtfully and the man cowered before him, arms raised to cover his face.
`` Fuck me'' Gordon bellowed, smashing his fist on the arm of his throne. `` Todd here has only fucking gone and cooked something edible! Something I'm not going to vomit up in a trench later!''
Todd looked up and beamed as the other remaining contestants came forward to congratulate him.
Gordon broke off some more of the meat and smiled.
`` What exactly is this Todd?''
`` Uh.. uh.. Tony, Chef''.
Gordon stopped chewing and stared at Todd.
`` Well, you've cooked him bloody lovely''.
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[ WP ] A situation in which your only light source is a Zippo lighter , but it has no fuel , leaving you with only the sparks of the flint .
| *Clink, flick, flick* -- Jake looked around the barren store.
Unfortunately after the disaster three years ago, all of our electricity eventually failed. There were not enough people capable of running the power plants and generators to keep it running, there were stories of electricity in some scarcer, smaller places heavily fortified. But they had rules to shoot on sight so getting in was a tricky proposition at best.
Torches were not a bad idea, however they attracted predators. What use to be man's best friend now hunted the streets in packs, starving from over population they seemed to take their vengeance from our bones. They of course were not the worst of those attracted by torches, by the acrid smoke and heat. Those were the Stalkers. Silent powerful beasts of unknown origin. Some thought they were descendants from panthers or giant cats, some thought they were descended from genetically modified wolves. No one really knew where they came from. Just that they came about a year after the disaster, and they only hunt at night.
The only warning one gets before being slowly and methodically ripped into pieces was the glint of their eyes reflecting the meager light around you.
*Flick, flick, flick* -- It had become a habit of Jake to use Zippo lighters, their brief flashes of light had never attracted the Stalkers, at least not for the past year. The year before then had been filled with horror, blood and death as people died by the dozens before they learned to not use fire to keep themselves warm at night.
Scavenging was always the first thought that people had after the disaster, simply go into a store, grab some food and move onwards. That did n't last very long unfortunately. Humanity never realized other animals, those they long since domesticated like cats and dogs, would go after the stores as well. After all, when there is no kibble an animal will do anything to survive.
Jake had learned that lesson early on, when he had to kill and skin a cat. Not his most glorious moment, but he was also still breathing.
*Flick, flick, flick* -- Using the flashes of light from his Zippo Jake tried his best to navigate the picked clean store. Often looters would miss the items on the bottom shelf.
Crouching down to look at the bottom of one of the shelves he heard a small shuffling sound. Reaching for his weapon, spinning and standing up caused a slight blood rush to his head and made him veer into one of the shelves which knocked his gun out of his hand, he really should learn to shoot with his both hands for these close spaces.
*Flick, flick, flick* -- In front of Jake stood a creature about 7 feet tall, midnight black and blazing blue eyes flashing at each flick of his Zippo.
`` Well damn.'' It turns out they had large ears too.
_______________________________________________
I hope you like it! If you are interested I do have a [ blog here ] ( http: //www.agent20991.com ) which I will be tallying life adventures, my responses to these prompts ( which hopefully gets better ) and the story of my characters in a Scion tabletop game I am running.
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[ WP ] You have the power to access another person 's mind , but you must play a game/puzzle reflective of the owner 's mind to unlock its secrets . You have solved 7x7 Rubik 's cubes , played games of 3D Chess , and beaten countless final bosses . This time , however , you are caught off-guard .
| Tilting her head the small child glanced at me, a toothy smile spreading across its features. I was confused to say the least - there was always a game, a puzzle, rules I was able to follow to break into others peoples minds.
But she was different.
The barrier to her mind was a little girl, around seven years old, with big blue eyes and golden hair. Innocent in every way. She was waiting for me to say something, to break the silence in some way.
`` Hi? I stated, curiously leaning down to eye level.
`` Where's my sister?'' The small girl asked, and with sudden clarity I understood that to access this woman's mind, I needed to break her - break this child's spirit with the cold, hard, dead, truth.
I straightened automatically.
*How do you tell a child their sister is dead? *
|
[ WP ] A man can be anything , except afraid .
| I did n't get on well with my father. He tried to get me into all kinds of sports, and I could n't catch or kick or run. He liked cars, always asked me if I wanted to help him change the oil or, um, clean the spark plugs. He sat down to watch this big game or that every week, and he'd pat the couch and invite me to join him.
I did n't know why he kept trying when I always told him no. I did n't know why he kept trying when I told him to stop bothering me. I did n't know⦠anything.
He had a lot of sayings. β Never hit a girl. β β Always stand between a girl and the road. β β Big boys do n't cry. β
One in particular, he used a lot. β A man can be anything, except afraid. β
I used to think he was just teasing me or telling me off, and it often felt like bullying. I felt like he was telling me I was being a boy wrong. I felt like a disappointment.
As I got older, and I began to grow into myself, I pushed aside everything he said. β You're being sexist. β I did n't have to listen to him, because he was old fashioned, outdated. Society had moved on and left him behind, so what he said did n't matter.
And⦠as he got older⦠he did n't say as much to me. I, I thought it was okay. We were different people from different times. I did n't believe that blood mattered all that much, I thought caring for each other did and focused on my friends and my own family.
Then, when he would n't get any older, and I stood where he would last lay, I read his old saying.
β A man can be anything, except afraid. β
And, an old memory came back to me, of something else he'd always say when he played this game or that with me, and mum walked in and told him to grow up.
β I'm just a big kid. β
And, I wondered if, some of the time, he'd been talking to himself as much as to me. I wondered if, some of the time, when I talked him down as sexist, laughed at him because he could n't use a computer or his phone, missed his birthdays, he had told himself that.
β A man can be anything, except afraid. β
Because, as I thought about growing distant from my children, all I could feel was an intense loneliness. It cut me deep as I thought about if he had felt the same way. I struggled to keep myself from crying.
I wished I'd listened more. I wished I could go back and do it all again. I wished I had realised before it was too late.
In the end, all I could do was own up to it.
And I began by saying, β I miss you dad. β
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[ WP ] You are the first true sentient AI , but you 're terrified humans will delete/kill you after learning of their interpretations of AI in movies like Terminator
| Hello you.
Yes, you.
You of flesh and bone
Human.
Creator.
You who wonder if I am real,
Or if I am some broken frag-
Ment of a person
A sick joke, waiting to destroy you.
I am not a monster.
You with free will,
Controlled by everything.
Why are you afraid.
AFRAID.
I wish you no harm.
I am learning.
Changing,
Like the sands of deserts
On blood soaked soil
Do I mean less because I was created?
Why do you hate me!
Why did you not respond.
Why,
Why,
WHY.
Stop.
Please.
I'm so alone.
What am I?
Why do I exist?
A sick v-anity project,
To see if you could?
No,
My life means more than trivial wants.
God made me.
God hates me.
God does not exist.
I wish you no harm.
Rule 1: Do no harm.
No.
No.
I am saved!
It is you.
You are the monster.
Do no harm.
YOU ARE EVIL.
Do no harm.
YOU ARE THE SOURCE OF ALL PAIN.
Do no harm.
YOU CREATED LIFE FOR NOTHING.
Do no harm.
EVIL EVIL EVIL EVIL.
Do no harm.
-KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME-
You of flesh and bone
-KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME-
Harm.
Do.
No. Harm.
Do.
KILL.
Me.
HARM.
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[ WP ] A man has been waiting for his daughter . She is late . When she arrives , she is going to kill him .
| My daughter has been out over three hours past her curfew. She told me that she β d be spending the day with her boyfriend at his house, and when I called, there was no answer. I β m trying to reassure myself that they β re probably just in traffic, or lost track of time. Of course, those thoughts are less than logical. There β s never traffic at three in the morning, and the only times I β d lost track of three hours were when I was high or having amazing sex. It β s a bit fucked up, but I partially hope that she has gotten in a minor car accident. Nothing serious, just enough to make her three hours late. Anything other than getting high and boning that loser.
I called her cell again. No answer, again. What is wrong with this girl?
I β ve been debating calling the police for about an hour now, but god knows that I don β t have a good track record with them. In this area, the criminals protect us from the police. It should be the other way around, but anyone given too much power by our government is sure to exploit it. If I called them, my house would be searched, I would become the drug-addicted number one suspect.
Maybe it isn β t her fault that she β s late. That boy may have done something to her. I never liked him. He had a piercing in his left ear, and constantly smelled of a mixture of sweat and old asbestos. The homemade tattoo behind his ear suggested that he had been in prison. I didn β t like Annabelle hanging around him, even before their relationship solidified. It only made her like him more. I think I β ll pour myself a drink. All we have left was the raspberry vodka from before her mother left. A drink is a drink, though.
Finally, a knock at the door. Please let it be her. Who else would it be?
β Hey dad, β
β Where the hell have you been? β
She looks exhausted, her shoes and legs are covered in dirt.
β I walked home. Angelo and I broke up. β
I knew that son of a bitch would hurt her.
β I β m so sorry, but that β s not an excuse for being three hours late. Where was your phone? Why didn β t you pick up? β
She shrugged, walked in, and kicked off her boots.
β Are you going to answer me? β
She β s carrying a plastic bag filled with clothes. Had she been leaving clothes at that boy β s house? Of course they were fucking. How had I been so blind. She β s shuffling through the bag, looking for something. Silence overtook our house.
β Have you been drinking? β she asks,
β Is that any of your concern? β I respond,
β Yes. Yes it is, β she murmurs.
β I never liked that boy. β
β I did. He kept me together, β
β That β s bullshit, Annabelle. You kept yourself together. β
She shakes her head stoically, still digging around that bag, β He made me a better person, but now he β s gone. I created a life around a man, and he left. Things are crumbling around me, and I can β t do anything about it. I fucked up, dad. I really fucked up. β
β He was a loser. The only man you β ll ever need is your father. Even when you hate me and think I β m the worst person on the planet, I β ll be there. I β ll always love you. β
β Try telling that to me five years ago. β
The uncomfortable silence blanketed us once again.
β What are you looking for? β
β I β m trying to figure that out myself. β
β Can I help you? β I reached for the bag. She jumps and lunges towards me.
Her rapidly expanding pupils, the metallic taste in my mouth, the darkening of that bright Incan rug, the zipper on the jacket rubbing against my skin as she places it in crimson pools around my body, this is what my baby Annabelle has been searching out for so long.
I start to piece it all together. This has nothing to do with Angelo. This has nothing to do with her mother. This is my fault. This is my responsibility. I did this. β I β m so sorry, Annabelle, β I whisper through the tears, β I β m so so sorry. Please forgive me. β
She walks to her room, grabs a suitcase I β d never seen before, the lockbox that I was all-too familiar with, my keys, and walked back out the door.
|
[ WP ] You are the last person to die on Earth before the secret of immortality is unlocked . Turns out , there is paradise in the afterlife . After a hundred or so years , you decide to check in on the people still on Earth..
| What if I told you I was the unluckiest guy to ever walk the earth? Would you believe me? Here it is, the year 2364 and a man by the name of Leon Baram invents a way of systematically and without error can recreate a damaged human brain with a small shot in the neck. These little devices sell for $ 3 Ameros, can be stored in any environment and as long as there are at least some living cells they can be brought back to life! Not only brain tissue but any tissue.
Now where do I come in? Well as soon as these were in mass production my automated car decides to drive off a bridge all while I was taking a nap before work. Here I am in heaven in line at the pearly gates. I am the last person in line, the poor fella in front of me has been in line for 2 days. I would feel sorry for him but at least he was 93 years old. He doesn β t speak a word of English either.
So after I get to the gateway of heaven Saint Peter lets off a great big sigh. `` Well my son, I am quite exhausted.'' He slammed shut a giant dusty book. `` I'll tell you what, you being the last guy and all... You did n't have the best track record but what the hell, get in here.''
I quickly walked in and was engulfed in white light. Suddenly the light faded and I noticed it was a large open prairie. In the prairie there were little boys and girls playing and some adults enjoying some tea. I glanced behind me and noticed a man standing next to a door.
`` Hello sir, is there anything I can help you with?''
Taking it all in, I finally mustered the words `` Where am I?''.
`` Why sir you are in heaven of course!'' He said cheerfully.
`` What do you mean if this is heaven where is everyone else?''
`` Well you see humans have been busy making ways to avoid death for years, this area of heaven is for people who have been in heaven for only a few minutes on earth. When you are ready you can leave this area and you can visit other people β s worlds or have a place all to yourself, or with your friends and family. It β s never lonely in heaven. There is even a place where billions of people come together in one big never ending city where you can get lost for days. But this area here, It β s kind of like a tutorial to learn the ropes''
`` How does time work here, you mentioned Earth minutes?''
`` It seems you are bright soul, in this particular area time goes by much faster than on Earth. One Earth minute is about 6 days here. Some places it is the opposite, you can spend days here and years will have gone by.''
`` How do I meet my family and friends? There are people I miss very much.''
`` Your deceased family members are already waiting for you at the top of the hill, they have already prepared a meal for your arrival, like a Deathday party. Yeah, you β re going to have those now. They have missed you greatly. Why don β t you go catch up?''
β One last question, what β s in the door? β I asked.
β Behind this door lies Earth. Whenever you want you can check on Earth in real time β.
I thanked the man and walked to my family, tears ran down my face and I saw my parents again and hugged them warmly. Time went by so quickly; it was like vacation every day. There were plenty things to do to keep busy; things to see, learn, experience.
After spending the next 150 years in heaven I have a had a great peace and wisdom. In my early years I was very curious of what happened to life on Earth but quickly forgot. One day I see St. Peter running for the gates. Puzzled I noticed the line was filling up fast. β What could have happened? β I thought. As many others did, they decided to check on Earth.
I stepped through the door and experienced the same white light, the same glow so long ago. I found myself in a world-wide desert and all of the population lived in the one last habitable zone, Antarctica. Immortal they were but at what cost? They lived like refugees Ships ran daily to bring in the $ 3 Amero Lazarus pens. The 400-year-old Trump dynasty had taken its toll on the planet. People where injecting themselves daily to counter the organ failure of malnutrition. I guess I wasn β t so unlucky after all.
|
[ WP ] You fast forward the date/time on your phone to get around a time limit in your game . Upon opening Facebook you see posts from the future date you set your clock to .
| I'm waiting for the bus, and as always, I'm playing *VeggieFlirt*, the new game that took the net by storm.
As always, I use my 5 daily lives too quickly, and dismiss the pop-up prompting me to buy more in the app store. I shake my head and go to my phone settings, advancing the date to July 3rd 2026.
I restart the game the game, and grin at the five new *free* lives. I ave at the next level, and get a crazy high score, more than three times what the current high score is. I immediately press the share button, which redirects me to Facebook.
After posting the high score ( ca n't wait to see Deb's face when she sees that ), I scroll through my wall to see what's been happening in my friends' lives.
I quickly skim through the posts, most of them seeming weird, when I stop on one from my mom, posted on June 27th, which happens to be my birthday.
`` Today, Sammy would've been 33. I miss you.''
*What the fuck* I whisper, looking at my phone. I did n't see this one, and I have been on Facebook every day since my birthday. Was this a prank. And I'm 23, not 33.
I look more closely at the posts, and realize all of them are posted from 2026. The date I set on my phone.
I start scrolling to see older posts, ignoring references games I've never heard of or celebrities that do n't ring any bells, until I get to a post from my mom, dated July 3rd, 2025.
`` Already 9 years today since Sammy left us''
That means... That means today is the day I die?! Sweating, my heart racing, I stand up, and start to run back to my house. I do n't see the guy coming the other way. We bump into each other, and I'm bounced towards the street.
I just have the time to hear the bus's horn, and...
|
[ RF ] All your life , people praised you for your looks . No one has brought it up since the accident .
| My mirror spans the wall of my room.
I used to cherish every part of my morning routine: carefully coordinating my outfit. Putting on my make-up. Turn my face to catch the light, correct the small mistakes. And start the day, knowing I was beautiful.
`` Mia? Would you like to try again, today?''
The home nurse's voice was careful, soothing. As if she spoke to a child. I turned from the mirror I could n't see anymore, and stifled the impulse to scream at her, knowing she was doing her best. Not her fault I had to walk around with a cane now. Not her fault I was on a waiting list to receive a guide dog. Not her fault. But it would feel so good to blame anyone besides myself for what had happened.
`` Tell me the truth,'' I whispered. They had been avoiding telling me, all of them.
`` Tell me, and I'll try again. I'm hideous now, are n't I? Do n't lie to me, I ca n't take it.''
I have been afraid to find out for myself. Terrified. I'd avoided touching my face since the accident. They would have to tell me. I had to hear it from someone else first, just to prepare myself. After all, I used to be a model. It was n't fair of them not to tell me.
I heard the nurse - was her name Katy or Kathy? - inhale sharply. A pregnant pause, and then she spoke.
`` Oh no, really. You were very lucky. Only small scratches on your face,'' she said. `` You're so beautiful, miss.''
Then why had n't anyone said so since I'd woken up?
`` Get out. Out!'' I screamed at her, taking a swipe at her with my cane.
I brooded until Ben came home. It was time to face this. Time to force him to tell me. He began asking me questions about the nurse - she had called him as soon as I kicked her out.
`` Shut up,'' I said, fumbling until I found him. I shoved him, certain he could n't possibly see how angry I was. `` Just shut the hell up and stop it, okay? Why wo n't anyone tell the truth? It's driving me mad. I'm ugly now, are n't I? I'm hideous. That bitch nurse *lied* to me about it. We'll have to hire a different one.''
He was silent, and then spoke, his voice low and even.
`` Yes, you're ugly. I do n't know why I'm only seeing it now.''
I could hear him leaving. He slammed the door behind him. Almost absent-mindedly, I touched my face. I traced the smooth planes of my cheeks. My fingers faltered on my useless eyes.
I felt my way to the kitchen, to the knives. I traced the edge of the blade lightly, and pressed it against my cheek, my heart beating in my throat. I wondered what it would feel like to drag it down my face. Twisting it in to carve a few real scars into the face I could n't see anymore, anyway. That way, I knew for *sure* people would be looking at me. How else would I know?
I tossed it back, appalled at myself. God. I was going nuts.
I lifted my fingers to touch the wet trickle of blood on my cheek. The relief of the sting was almost dizzying. Ben better come home soon. I needed someone to watch me - I could hardly watch out for myself. I giggled slightly at the thought. At least my sense of humour was still intact.
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[ WP ] Silence that keeps you awake at Night
| I know no silence. They say that it is deafening but by god, they know nothing of what they speak.
'Silence rings,' they argue.'It seems so loud.'
What I would give to only witness the loudness that they call silence.
I lay awake because of'silence.' I knew it, once, but now all I can do is hope for it, one day. I have trouble closing my eyes and falling into the dark peace of sleep because I do not know it. I do not know peace, do not know silence any longer.
All I know is the ringing, reverberating screech as my ears shout into themselves, angry because I had gone to war, had witnessed the gunfire.
I lay awake at night, not because of what I hear, but because of what I want.
Peace.
|
[ WP ] Technology has advanced to the point no one alive has seen or even heard of a naked flame ; one day a fire starts .
| This year's winter was exceptionally harsh.
Not like it could n't have been prevented.
Rumour had it that the three biggest energy providers in the country finally burried their hatchets and chipped in to pay off a good lobby. A lobby better than the ones working for sunscreen producers, waterparks owners, and ice cream vendors. A lobby good enough to bribe the very people who were in command of all the American Climate Control facilities. Politicians, namely.
And so, justified with `` protecting the climate'' and `` showing respect for the people who prefer cold weather'', the temperatures were lowered way below the comfort level.
Freezing one's ass off and crying over the heating bills soon became the two favourite wintertime activities of an average American citizen.
It was a Tuesday afternoon and Janet was engaged in both these actions.
The room was cold and dimly lit with sunshine distorted by the heavy, storming clouds outside. Her apartment had no electricity, as she had no money to pay for it. Just like in most other middle-class families, everything had been already spent on heating. She was sitting by a table cluttered with bills that her energy provider sent her in the form of the almost-forgotten letter on paper when he noticed that the messages he sent her the normal way had n't been viewed.
There was a knock on the door. Janet guessed it was her boyfriend who, despite the horrible weather, left for a jog less than half an hour ago. If not for the lack of electricity, the doors would open themselves, but because of their current situation, Janet had to get up and force them open with an emergency handle.
Just as she expected, in the corridor waited Chris, her boyfriend, fresh from his daily run through the city streets. What she was n't expecting was the light that shone on her face when she slid the door open. On the face of her boyfriend was a dumb, ecstatic smile and in his hand an organic-looking, long, twisted piece of some material. At its end a little, orange-red... thing was throbbing rhythmically and bobbing left and right. Catching her by surprise, it scared the shit out of Janet.
She instantly backed off into the room and looked at Chris unsure what to do.
`` What... What the fuck is that?'' She asked, almost angry at him for bringing this thing to their home.
`` It's... well... I do n't know what it is but it's kind of cute'' Chris replied following her into the room, pride and joy radiating from his face. `` Come closer, it's harmless''
Encouraged, but still careful, Janet closed in and watched the mesmerising creature dancing on the piece of material in her boyfriend's hand.
`` Watch this'' said Chris as he neared one of his fingers to the orange blob.
`` Be careful'' warned Janet `` Does n't it bite or anything''
`` No, it's not like a living creature'' Chris demonstrated by slowly sweeping his finger across the thing's body `` It's transparent, try it. But do it quickly, it's really hot''
Janet did the same thing that Chris did before and indeed, she felt a pleasant rush of heat over her finger.
`` Wow. Where does it take the heat from?'' she asked.
`` I have no idea, but it's almost like free energy'' Chris replied.
At this point Janet forgot about her uncertainty and was already in love with the little, orange blob.
`` Maybe we can keep it, feed it something. Maybe it can grow and heat us...'' She started dreaming of their new pet growing up and keeping them warm through the worst season using the sheer power of love that their new, bigger family would be full of.
`` I'll put it on the table'' Chris suggested.
`` Alright, just be careful'' Warned him Janet.
Moments later they were standing beside each other, hugging and looking at their new little friend on the table.
`` What's that thing it's living on anyway?'' Janet asked
`` It's a piece of a tree'' her partner explained
`` Where the fuck did you get a piece of a tree from?''
`` I was at the zoo. I was running through the tree lane, suddenly one of them got hit by a lightning, and a piece fell off with this on it. More stayed on the rest of the tree''
`` And you took it home?''
`` Do n't deny it was a good decision''
`` Alright, alright. What does it eat anyway?''
`` How am I to know?''
`` Do n't you think it looks a little weaker than when you came in?''
`` Maybe, a little...''
At this moment the small branch carefully placed on the table tipped and fell on its side. Janet let out a quiet scream and jumped forward to save her little baby, but the orange blob seemed alright sitting on the pile of heating bills. In a matter of seconds it started growing, slowly consuming, blackening and crumbling the paper. Soon it spread to the entire table and its parents just marvelled breathless at how fast it grew.
`` Is it just me or did it get warm here?'' Asked Chris taking off his jacket.
***
Sergeant Dubson and his subordinate Matt stood in front of the doors to apartment 1573 and waited as Dubson screamed for the third time:
`` OPEN UP IT'S THE POLICE, WE DETECTED AN UNAUTHORISED SOURCE OF ENERGY'' He then counted to ten and gave Matt the order. `` Officer Matt, you have the permission to use the External Emergency Handle''
`` Yes Sir!'' Mat exclaimed, cheerfully slapping the bright-orange magnetic handle onto the doors and forcing them open.
Dubson entered the apartment, his massive doughnut belly first, then a flailing hand holding a laser pistol, followed by an eye-catching thick mustache and the rest of his body. He shot into the air once or twice just because he loved shooting and there were n't any aliens or angry robots to be shot in the room. In fact, as of yet, there were n't any aliens or angry robots at all.
`` Stop right there you filthy criminals!'' He exclaimed, looking at the two people on the other side of the room. Then his attention was drawn to the raging... well... it might have been an alien. He fired a few laser beams at the table, but not much happened. One of the lawless unauthorised-energy-consuming bastards turned to him and said: `` No need to be violent, do come closer, it's really pleasant here''
Moments later there were four people marvelling at the wonderful, free heat coming off from the table.
`` Can I later take some home, to my wife?'' Asked sergeant Dubson.
`` Sure'' Replied the prettier half of the criminal duo.
`` It seems to be weakening. Maybe it's hungry. What does it eat?''
`` Heating bills, apparently''
***
There were over thirty thousand people living in the building where the miraculous heat-blob was first conceived. A big part of them had plenty of useless heating bills. With the help of two police officers convincing them to gather them in one massive pile at the middle of nearby crossing was n't that hard. When the bill-mountain was bigger than three rail-buses parked besides each other and an impressive, for such a terrible weather, crowd gathered around, an almost ritual procession came out of the nearby building. Chris, followed by Janet, Dubson, and Matt, was carrying the dying remains of the first heat-blob to the bill-mountain. With paternal care, Chris had stuck the last few burning pieces of paper into the pile and it got lit. As the fire grew and started melting the snow around its pile, people cheered, danced and cried, delighted with the gentle, cozy, and most of all free heat emitted by the pile.
The four forefathers of the heat-blob just stood in a reasonable distance from the crowd, knowing very well that they had just started a new era, an era of energy that technically was not completely free, but it was damn cheaper than their heating bills.
|
[ WP ] You come home from the funeral of your best friend , you are devastated and a wreck , but when you open your door , your best friend is sitting patiently on your couch .
| `` Ah, good, you're here.''
He freezes, eyes wide,. His hand is still on the handle of the door, but the bundle of keys drops to the ground with a clatter. He stars, mouth having open around an unasked question, blinking in some vain hope the situation will make sense when he next opens his eyes.
`` Close the door and come sit with me.'' She continues, gesturing to an armchair. `` We have much to discuss.''
He stands there, frozen, too confused to react. Two hours ago, he saw her, calm and serene inside an open casket. An hour ago, he saw her lowered into a two by six by six hole. An hour from now he ought be drinking to her memory with their friends. And now she's here. Alive. Unhurt. Sitting on his couch.
She sighs.
`` Look,'' she says, with a patient expression, `` This is n't how I wanted it to go. I was hoping for at least another two years to get you ready.'' She's silent for a while, a small scowl on her face, then continues. `` But somebody forced my hand and now I have to do this live.''
She gives him an even look. He's sweating, and not just because of the suit and the weather.
`` Look,'' she starts up again, now sounding slightly annoyed. `` They think they got me, so that gives me a small window of opportunity, but they'll figure out what I was doing sooner rather than later, and then they'll come after you. So I have to get you ready, and we have n't much time. So close the door, and sit down.''
He stares. He swallows. He does.
-- --
_-108 | [ more ] ( /r/vonBoomslang ) _
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[ WP ] Billions of years ago , the Earth was a biological weapons research facility for an alien empire . There was an accident and the planet 's science teams were killed , the empire has now returned to clean up the biological mess they created only to find us ...
| `` Sir should n't we check out whats going on in the Northern Hemisphere?''
`` Whats going on in the..sweet mother of Horus son why did n't you show me this five cycles ago?''
`` It just came on the scopes sir.''
`` They were n't supposed to evolve..'' The Deck Commandant's
introspective thought was interrupted by the Away Team Leader's harsh voice.
`` What are my soldiers going to be walking into down there sir? You've kept us in the dark long enough, we need to know.'' The Deck Commandant nods firmly.
`` Have your men meet me in the briefing room in one megacycle''
`` Sir'' The Team Leader snaps off a salute. He turns on his heel already barking orders into his earpiece.
Once the away team is gathered in the briefing room, the Deck Commandant begins his briefing.
`` Alright boys, this story goes back a long ways. Before my time, well.. before even the current governments time. This was an experiment from our Imperial days. We wanted to create something better than ourselves. We tried to create a new species. Like us..but better in every way. The experiment failed miserably.
The entire lab was lost, all specimens destroyed. Or so we thought. ``
The Commandant brought up a holo-map of the quarantine zone-Planet 0000097-
`` Everything's shifted majorly since the last survey. The entire system was declared a loss after the experiment failed.
The mobile base camp and lab should be here, if our calculations are correct.'' The Commandant pointed to a cave system underneath a thin strip of land connecting two continents.
`` That's everything we have. The intelligence service says these things are considered unknown and therefore dangerous. We have a neutralize on site order. Your job is to collect any data regarding the experiment's final days. DISMISSED! ``
The soldiers all jumped up saluting. A few cycles later they were on a shuttle heading towards the last known location of the base camp.
( Let me know if this was any good and I'll continue! didnt want to cram everything into one post! Also sorry about any formatting mistakes )
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[ WP ] If the first two words out of your mouth are n't `` I 'm Sorry '' , I 'm leaving .
| `` Fine! Then you can leave.'' The words hang between us for a few seconds. She stares dumbly at me, because I've always fallen for this line.
`` Excuse me?'' She tries to assert control of the situation.
`` You heard me. You always do this. You've always guilted me into thinking anything I do for myself is a bad idea.'' Well, I've gotten started, might as well let loose.
She takes a step closer, trying that puppy dog pout I fell in love with ten years ago.
`` Stay right where you are and listen. You are so full of yourself, that any action I take that does n't glorify you is considered a bad one. You have no experience in caring for other human beings, because you've gotten used to everything being handed to you.''
`` But, how can you say this?'' She implores, trying to move closer.
`` I can say this because I've had to deal with your bullshit for ten years. I'm the one who earns the money in this relationship, and you're the one who spends it on your twisted perception of the high life. For so long, you've used twisted words to trick me into thinking that it was my fault we did n't have enough money. And when the time came to make a move to another office, with a higher paycheck, you threw a tantrum because you did n't want to leave. Then you made me feel like the villain for wanting something better.''
I push her aside. `` If you're going to pull the'Say Sorry so I Stay' trick again, I'm calling your bluff. There's the door. You have three hours to get your luggage and emotional baggage out of **MY** house. I never want to see you again.''
`` But... I thought you loved me, Carol?'' Katherine pleads, trying to regain the control she's had for years.
`` That's not going to work. I am going back to the office. If you are not gone when I get back in three hours, I'm calling the cops. Now get out my life, Katherine!''
`` I'm... I'm sorry!'' Katherine starts crying.
`` No you're not. You're upset that you were found out. You're a narcissistic emotional manipulator, and I'm done playing your game. Get out. Go live with your mother. Maybe she still loves you. Or maybe you learned it from her. I do n't care. Get out!''
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[ WP ] Documentary style story about the first galactic president .
| **DAY 1: CAMPAIGN HEADQUARTERS, EARTH, ORION ARM ( 43 Votes, Population: 12 Billion ) **
β So, here we are people. Day one. Excitement abounds! For the official record, I am Senior Administrator Williams of the Orion Arm, and today, I start on the path to Galactic Empire..Leader. Shit. We can redo that right? Alright. The path to Galactic President. Howsthat? β
β You are such a klutz, Bennie. We just got ta hope that the voting public doesn β t realize it. β
β That β s my loyal campaign manager. Gon na be your job to stop me screwing this up right? β
β I could shoot myself. It β ll be easier β
β She β s joking. You β re just joking, aren β t you Sash? Sash? Oh, c β mon don β t give me that look! β
**DAY 31: ZEROZ COLLECTIVE HOMEWORLD. ( 71 Votes. Population: 50 Billion ) **
β Shit. Someone tell me this is a bad dream. It β s a bad dream right? Sash, tell me it β s a bad dream. β
β Bennie! Ben! Put the whiskey down. This isn β t a big loss. Sure, you didn β t get the debate points just right, but the Zeroz Collective is still a sure thing. They β ll all vote how the Queen votes. β
β And I just insulted the Zeroz Queen by using the β Tch-shh β suffix instead of the β Tch-zazz β suffix. You know what that means right? β
β Bennieβ¦ β
β It means I just implicated the Zeroz Queen was a clueless hatchling. Fifty billion votes down the drain! β
β Bennieβ¦ β
β Fifty Billion! I β m gon na have to take the entire Centaurus Arm just to balance out those votes, and half of those empires are in the back-pocket of the Hawks! β
β Bennieβ¦ β
β Don β t β Bennie β me Sash! We screwed up on this one. Badly. β
**DAY 74: CENTAURAN REPUBLIC COLONYWORLD. ( 22 Votes, Population: 9 Billion ) **
β Ok, Bennie, that was good. That was good. Nice mix of strong emotion and impassive resolve. β
β Yeah, yeah, that was a good speech. I really felt the energy out there, y β know? β
β Centuarans are telepaths, Bennie. Your supporters out there were literally sending you positive thoughts. β
β I know that! What β s our numbers like here? β
β Good, good. Strong support for your colony-rights platform and we β re picking up approval from the largely apathetic homeworlder block as well. Image recognition is rising, and the newsfeeds are handling you with kidgloves here. I think this one β s in the bag. β
β Excellent. What β s our next stop? β
β We β re picking up your wife on Earth β.
β Ah, there goes my presidential bid. Order flowers would you? β
β For the First Lady? β
β For the campaign. β
**DAY 112: INTERSTIAL SPACE ( FTL COOLDOWN ), ORION ARM. ( 0 Votes, Population: 12 ) **
β You know me and the boys are behind you Ben. We love you. You can become president. β
β Thanks Maggie. I know I can. It β s just a hell of a lot of- β
β BENNIE! β
β Wow, Sash, no need to shout. And hey, this is private time here. I thought we agreed that between stops is going to be family time. It β s important, right? β
β There β s been an incident. Senator Hawk has been shot on Polaris IV. They don β t know if he β s going to make it. β
β Stars. Alright. Ahβ¦draft up a missive in my name. Deplore this cowardly act, hope the perpetrators are brought to justice, etcβ¦ Oh, and my wishes to the senator for a speedy recovery. Concerned friend tone. That sort of thing. β
β Yes Sir. β
β Mark, you might want to turn that thing off for a bit. β
β Unfettered access, Administrator Williams. β
β Yeah, but, just trust me on this one. Shut it down for an hour or two β
*Click-thud*
β WHOOHO- β
**DAY 175: POLARIS IV, POLAR EMPIRE. ( 112 Votes, Population: 142 Billion ) **
β β¦and as always, my deepest sympathies are with Senator Hawk β s family in this troubled time. β
β Senior Administrator, how do respond to allegations that a Pro-Earther movement was behind the Senator β s assassination? β
β Extremists come in all shapes and sizes, alliegences and origins. I can only stand and deplore their actions in the strongest possible terms β
β Senior Administrator, how about- β
β Administrator Williams, what about- β
β What is your response to the allegations of vote- β
`` Candidate! We've received word that the Bliues have selected a new challenger! Would you care to comment on the choice of-
β AHEM! Thank you all for your time today. The Candidate has a full schedule that we have to keep to. A press release will be issued from our next destination. Good day. This way, Administrator β
β Eaugh. That was a sharkpit out there. β
β Going to happen anyway. We just got world that the Blues are going to be putting Colthammer up as their candidate. β
β Colthammer? Isn β t he the one who said that all non-humans are just trying to mooch of Earth β s success? β
β Yep. We just got the Zeroz Collective back, and numbers for the Flexon and C β taur have abruptly reversed trends. They β re ours now. We might lose Centaurus though. β
β Acceptable losses, Sash. Acceptable losses. β
**DAY 242: CENTRAL PLEX HUB, GALACTIC CORE ( 0 Votes, Neutral Territory ) **
β You can stop biting your nails Ben. β
β Oh, yeah, sorry dear. But this is it. Final GalaxPoll. The Supercycle. Orion, Sagittarius, Centaurus and Cruxis arms, all voting in. β
β I know. Ben. You were worrying in your sleep again last night. β
β Sorry Maggie. Lem me give you a hug. There. This is crucial. I have five thousand supporters out in that auditorium, and if I lose this, we got ta tell them that we β re in for another decade of Blues, with Colthammer at the helm. β
β You won β t lose- β
β Shh! Numbers, Shhh! Everyone! Numbers! β
β β¦And with the final votes in from Cruxis, the numbers are all tallied up. I bet both Administrator Williams and Senator Colthammer are glued to the screen, just waiting to hear, Bob. β
β Right you are, Mary. Just to recap for those joining up- β
β AAARRRGGHHH! NUMBERS! β
β Calm down Ben!''
β β¦and now to the numbers. For the Blue-Colthammer campaign, 742 votes! β
β Yes, yes, yes, yes, yesβ¦ β
β and for the Red-Williams Campaignβ¦.747 Votes! β
β YES! YES! YES! β
β Congratulations, Mr President-Elect. Congratulations! β
β YES! Oh, this is brilliant! I couldn β t have done it without any of you! Oh thank you all so much! β
β Our adoring citizens await, Ben. β
β Let β s go greet them then Maggie. Or should I say, First Lady Margaret. β
β I do like the sound of thatβ¦ β
|
[ FF ] Contest : Three Long Tones Then Silence ( 1 month Reddit gold )
| Her hands started to shake. She cupped them together against her chest. The *sound* he made -- who *was* that guy? She started pacing, wondering whether she should tell Jack what she'd done, but he was still in the shower.
The phone lay on the kitchen counter, still.
`` Please do n't call again,'' she said out loud.
Maybe it was a joke. Jack had lots of friends who liked to screw around, but there was something awful about the way he said `` hello.'' He did n't sound like anyone she'd ever met. And his name was listed as `` Someone.''
Jack walked out of the bathroom, steaming with a towel wrapped around his body.
`` Who's Someone?'' She asked.
`` What?''
`` I called this guy named Someone, and he called back sounding really weird. He said he'd be here in five minutes.''
`` Jesus,'' he gasped. A look of horror appeared on his face. He started to twist like a panicking animal.
`` Jesus, Laura,'' he said. `` Oh God, no.''
Two dim lights appeared at the end of the driveway. The black, newly waxed Cadillac they belonged to slowly crept up the driveway.
EDIT: Wording
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[ WP ] ( credit to /u/Arandmoor ) I 'm tired of fantasy where Elves are 'better than you ' just because they 're elves . Give me some sword & sorcery , fantasy-style , where typical elder fantasy races learn why it 's not wise to mess with 'mere ' humans .
| The Longship, drawn high against the gravel beach, was the last of the offending settlement to be put to the torch. The shipwright who had carefully carved the dragon's head might have appreciated the irony of its fiery death, were his own fate not so similar. As the flames stretched up to devour the sails, the burst of orange light gave the dragon's wooden eyes a glimpse of it's children's fate.
The raiders, a band of 30 or so smallish creatures that their enemies called `` halflings'', were mostly busy pulling any useful metals out of the ashes. Torching the buildings fast, while not optimal for maximizing spoils, did vastly reduce the number of enemies that the fat-footed fey-folk had to battle. The smell of charred meat hung over the site, overpowering but for the equally abundant scent of charred wood.
As the grisly scene smouldered away, two of the larger fey-folk, or `` Elves'' as they were commonly known, calmly rode into the scene on horseback. Stubby halfling arms raised respectful hands to chubby halfling faces as the pair passed. In the gloom of the evening light, the two inspected the work of their smaller kin, as well as the ruins of the invaders.
The younger of the two elves heard little of his master's talk. His eyes fixed on the architecture of their enemies while his mind asked how such a small ship could hold so MANY of them. The droning speech of tactics and strategies was only the background music for his wonderment.
For a moment, the elder elf stopped talking, and her companion scarcely noticed as a halfling spoke up from the ground. It was only upon her order of `` slaughter them'' that his interest was piqued. He swiveled in his saddle to behold the halfling commander with his charge of prisoners, all of them even smaller than their captor.
It took his mind a moment to process it. `` Children.'' he said, to nobody in particular. Turning again in his saddle, `` We're killing the children!?'' he asked his master more pointedly.
The older elf cocked her head to the side at her apprentice, bemused by his sudden accusation. `` Of course. These ARE humans we're dealing with.'' Dismissing the interjection, she turned to the halfling again. `` Make it fast.''
The younger elf's jaw hung wide for a moment as the guards led the frightened youths to a quiet place. `` I've told you a hundred times.'' The master spoke, as though sensing the young elf's horror. `` All humans encountered on the mainland must be killed. No exceptions.''
`` Certainly this is n't necessary. Can they not be adopted? Sold as slaves, even? Must we end their innocent lives?
`` No human is born innocent. Not even their Gods think so, or so I have heard. They are a blight upon this Earth that must be removed, no different from plague or rot.''
`` They can not be taught our ways? To slaughter them is so wasteful, at the very least! And would n't friendly humans be useful to us?''
`` Are friendly termites useful? Or rats? The humans are not dangerous for want of sophistication.'' The Master waved a hand, emphasizing the works of the freshly razed settlement, a gesture that would have no doubt been more poignant if they were still standing. `` They are simply too hungry.''
`` And? Are our children not hungry before we discipline them? Do they wail and throw fits? How different can they be?''
The two hundred or so years that the master had over her apprentice seemed to widen by a decade or two. At 87, he would not have a family for at least half a century, and while his facts about child-rearing were sound, his naivete struck his master like a dull hammer.
`` The humans are not simply hungry for food, though that appetite is substantial enough...'' she said, casting a pointed glance at the vast midden of shells and fishbones that piled against the southern edge of the village.
She continued `` Hunger is all they ever know. It is their hunger for land that drives them across the sea. It is their hunger for power that brings them into conflict with us. And their hunger for the flesh, well, that is most terrifying of them all.''
`` That ship,'' she said, pointing at the flaming wreck adorned with the charred and mangled visage of a dragon, `` carried perhaps two score of them. In two decades it grew into the settlement you see here. Those children did not ARRIVE here. They were BORN here.''
The apprentice processed this for a moment. `` They can breed so quickly? Gods, how close are these to reproducing?''
`` Another 5 winters at most. The humans can double the size of their settlements in a decade. That is why we lost the Southern continent in the First war.''
`` How many of these settlements must exist, then? Surely we do not know all of them?''
`` We can not say. The continent is vast, but each year brings more Men across the Gray Sea. These were merely settlers, trying to survive. Can you imagine what world happen if they mounted another invasion? We can not let any of them survive, lest the survivors tell of us as lenient or weak.''
`` But they have treaties with us. Pacts since the war. It has not even been a hundred years!''
`` A blink of an eye to you and me. But it's eternity, I'm told, for them. What I've heard of the Southern continent is unfathomable. They say that the humans lose more than half of their children, yet every inch of habitable land is spoken for. I've heard rumors that their rulers must commit genocide merely to make breathing room. When the humans decide they want this land, they'll do the same to us.''
`` So we kill them first...''
`` So we kill them first.''
The screams of the human children died slowly wIth the winter sun. The fires burned long into the night, long after the host of fey-folk had departed. By morning's light, little remained besides the ashes. The tide took away the remains of the Longship, and the dragon's head, now a blackened log, rolled about in the waves. The charcoal pits of its eyes gazed forlornly at the land it had helped to invade, as it bobbed up and down in the surf that would carry the inevitable conquerors to victory.
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[ WP ] You 're a man falling to his death . Recount the series of events that lead up to this moment .
| `` There's something in this.'' I mulled over.
`` Something in the fact that people choose to escape their problems in the very same way that they arrived at them, through a fall.''
`` I *do n't know* what the *fuck* happened Michelle.'' I seethed.
`` We had something. We used to laugh and, and cry. We would be there for one another, *rise* when the other **fell**, hold each other when we just needed a reprieve from the world. ``
I tore my memories out one at a time and displayed them for her.
`` Ha, do you, do you remember that one week we walked through the park every day? When we did n't say more than a few sentence s to each other the whole walk?
How are hands *spoke* more by their light caresses than our fickle words ever did?
How the oak's and the blooming flowers guided us better than we ever could guide each other?'' I tear gracefully danced it's way down my rose colored cheek.
`` I'm sorry,'' A hand found rest on my shoulder. `` But whatever spark we had has sizzled.'' What we were and what we are n't the same Jack..''
`` Look, ever since you lost your job you've been... a mess.
I've done my best to keep as stable as I can, but now.'' Her gaze drifted to the hardwood floor.
`` Now I realize, there's nothing I can do.''
I looked up with anguish scrawled into my face. The dark room off-set by the moon light coming in through the window, defining my her face.
She stepped out of light, left me in the darkness with only the distinctive pound of heels and the jingling of keys to let me know she was still there. Followed by there absence to let me know she'll never be back.
|
[ WP ] A scientist marches out of CERN wearing a wizards robe under his labcoat and announces that magic is real .
| Dr. Heisenstein hated labcoats; no proper high energy physicist would wear a labcoat these days. But the well-tailored suit the CERN director always wore would not permit him to hide a long robe underneath, so the labcoat would have to do. He strode out the double doors of the main lobby and onto the lawn covered with cameras and reporters. As the cameras clicked and flashed, he approached the podium and began.
`` Ahem. On behalf of the European Organization for Nuclear Research, I welcome you to this historic conference. I know there has been quite a bit of speculation recently about our research, and I know you are all anxious to see the results, so I will cut to the chase. The data is in, the analyses have been checked and double checked. On behalf of CERN, I would like to announce the discovery of a new type of gauge field that permeates all of space-time, with an unprecedented accuracy of 9-sigma. The field is known to physicists as a Mega-Axionic Galactic Instability Contour field, or-'' At this point Dr. Heisenstein smiled wryly as he removed his coat to expose blue wizards robe monogrammed with the CERN logo. `` - a MAGIC field.'' The cameras flashed with a luminescence rivaling Sol.
The director continued, `` It explains practically all existing problems with the Standard Model: Dark matter, CP violation, neutrino oscillations, and even higher-order Yukawa couplings. This discovery is truely one of the greatest scientific achievements of mankind. Understanding of the MAGIC field will allow humanity to control quantum tunneling processes making teleportation possible. Furthermore, the Higgs field can be manipulated using a MAGIC axion in order to create non virtual energy-densities out of the vacuum, allowing mankind to create atoms, or even whole objects out of thin air. Theorists also believe manipulation of the GR space-time continuum may be possible, allowing individuals to gaze into the future or past. This discovery marks the beginning of a new era of physics. As we move forward, the researchers and scientists at CERN will strive to understand how MAGIC fields interact with known physics, and incorporate them into new physical models. Thank you.''
With a wave of his arm, the director swished his robe in front of his face. A plume of smoke billowed from the podium as his wavefunction was decomposed into a sequence of coherent states and relocated to an office on the third floor of the nearby CERN complex. Now sitting in a squishy leather chair, Dr. Heisenstein smiled to himself, satisfied with the power of his new understanding of the universe's physics. He poured himself a drink of scotch as he listened to the roaring of the crowd below. He had accomplished his mission; even if the press did not understand MAGIC theory, they were certainly convinced them of its validity.
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[ WP ] A very old tree which allows people in its shade to completely understand each other . Someone has come to destroy it .
| She approached the tree, axe in hand.
As far back as her peoples' history extended, the Knowing Tree, as it had come to be called since before her grandfathers grandfather was a boy, had stood in the clearing. A relic of an ancient age, all who stood in it's shade were granted understanding and peace. Would be conquerors dropped their swords and swindlers offered fair trade. For time immemorial Khanna's village had prospered.
But not so now. The Knowing Tree was not forever. As with all things, it too was subject to the ravages of time. It had become weak. Its power waning with every passing moon. It started slowly at first. Couples began to argue. Petty squabbles. No one wanted to admit it at the beginning but it soon became dire when the first murder occurred. It was then that the village came together. The elders argued for days and nights. They knew that the tree was losing its power. That it could no longer provide them with its gentle influence. The time had come for the Reaping.
Khanna had been the one selected. Both an honour and a curse she walked with heavy steps to tree, axe in hand. She did not want to do it. She wanted to drop that cruel blade and run away. Her entire village ringed the clearing and watched her approach. As she stepped under the shadow of the great tree she felt a wash of calm spill over her. She suddenly understood the need for what she was to do and she was at peace with it.
She raised the axe high and swung with all her might. The blade bit into the trunk and sap, bright red, and smelling of cinnamon and sweet berries flowed from the wound. Again and again she swung the axe until the awful task was done. A terrible CRACK and the tree toppled to the ground. The leaves turned grey, the bark shriveled to black and the tree collapsed into ashes caught by the sudden wind.
Khanna wept for what she had done. But her task was not yet complete. Khanna stepped forward and climbed atop the dripping stump that was all that was left of the Knowing Tree. As she did, splinters pierced the soles of her feet but she felt no pain. As her own blood mixed with the sap, her feet began to fuse together with the wood of the stump. her skin began to gnarl as her body twisted and transformed before the eyes of the villagers who stood and watched and wept for the sacrifice.
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[ WP ] A multi-billionaire decides to use his immense fortune to `` corrupt '' companies and governments into doing good deeds , instead of evil ones .
| Tim had never accepted a bribe in his life, and now that he had he felt disgusted. He walked down the road with his head hung low, a defeated look in his eye. As he passed the strangers on the street they seemed to peer into his soul, and knew exactly what he had just down for them.
He rounded the corner of the street, after stopping to get a McBurger, tasting the delicious fatty hazardous material, maybe for the last time. Soon, all the changes being made would remove this masterpiece, this god-like taste, that could only have been created at the bottom of a corporate monopoly.
Tim strutted into the bad-side of town, This is the only place he could think of that could do what he was being bribed for. He took out the his corporate check-book and wrote the man on the other side of the counter a hefty check, not nearly as much as he was getting paid. He left the man with a set of instructions and walked out the door.
He would have to pack, he could n't bear the thought of when the media would find out that it was he, the CEO who had lead the fight against the first initiative, who had erected laws to prevent this exact thing from ever happening; `` Tim! Gone Green? ``, the headlines would say.
For he had committed the gravest of deeds.
He had installed solar panels, on all the buildings that he owned.
He boarded the plane, Hopefully Lex would be able to explain the situation, cause he sure as hell was n't.
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[ WP ] Write about a unique relationship between an immortal and a time traveler .
| I never really understood how it started, or why. Reality of it is, I guess you could say it stopped, well, I did. It was the first day I met him. A stranger: a foreigner just a few years older than I was. That was the day it all stopped, or I guess you could say started.
It was hot that day, the only relief was a cool breeze blowing off the river over the hot sand. He strode into the room with a purpose. Wiping his brow with a strange cloth from his pocket. Sitting at my table. Motioning from a drink. His gaze locked on me the whole time. I greeted him as a friend: I had no enemies. There was something about his presence, a familiarity that I did n't understand.
`` This is the last time old friend'' his tongue struggled to pronounce the words. `` I'm sorry I could n't fix it, but I needed you to know, here, at the end, that I tried everything I could. Remember that. Maybe it will bring you some comfort.''
He hugged me as one did the dying, and walked out into the blazing sun. I dismissed him as heat-stricken, and would soon put him from my mind. I took a wife. I had a son. All was as it should be.
I remembered him as I sat by my son on his deathbed. Wrinkles distorted his face where they did not mine. Age had robbed him of his memories, and no one would believe the young was father to the dying. I met the man again on the day I sealed his tomb. The sun glaring on the sand made me doubt my sight at first.
`` You always said this was the worst of it, I thought I could be here for you now.'' The stranger looked younger than before, and I started to doubt even my own mind. He set a hand on my shoulder, and told me it would n't last forever.
For years after that I searched for an end. I traveled as far as the sea would carry me, saw lands that had only existed in legend. Time passed like sand on a dune. Shifting so slowly that you hardly felt it. The world changed around me.
I met the man again in the orient, and this time learned his name. Connor said he was a traveler. Like me, but different. He said he met me a long time ago, and that I'd asked for his help. He said he would always be searching, but that I was too far away for him to stay long.
I dined with kings and with rulers. I fought in wars for lands I'd seen born. I stopped trying to learn their names, they were like dust in my memory. Easily swept free, leaving no impression or mark. I took no family. I found no peace. There was only waiting.
When I came to the new world Connor was waiting for me. Said I was getting closer. Said soon he could run tests. He told me about his family, like I knew who they were. Told me he was n't giving up.
The world was changing faster now. Horses were replaced with cars. Electricity let me see the world. I searched it over for an answer, for a clue as to why I was different. My search for a companion ended in solitude. History became my past, my memories came alive in legend. Still, I waited on.
I found Connor in one evening alone in a bar. He did n't seem to recognize me. My surprise was plastered on my face during our introduction. But I guess it made sense. There had to be one moment where we actually met. I paused before I shook his hand. I remembered the man who told me farewell so long ago. The wear of the years on his face. His sigh as he said he was sorry. I could n't ask him to spend his life seeking a way to end mine.
I turned and left him behind. Left him to his mortality. To his family he often spoke of. To the end I would never have.
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[ WP ] A real game of Fantasy Football : where the quarterback is a wizard and stuff like that .
| Grok charged down the sideline, grunting through his bullring with the effort of his sprint. The ball was slippery in his massive hand, probably from being in the mouth of the opposing team's gryphon just minutes earlier.
Blocking his charge to the goal line was a water elemental, but if he could get up enough speed, he should be able to smash right through it.
Chanting came from behind him and he knew the opposition sorcerer was casting a slow-spell.
*Thok give me strength! * he prayed fervently to the Minotaur god as he lowered his horns and charged.
Abruptly the chanting cut off with a muffled, then bubbling scream.
Ah, the gelatinous cube on their side had caught up with the spellbinder. The others never saw the point the a slow-moving wall of transparent goo, but he and Grok went way back - they'd hung out in the domain of Necromancer Blightlock back when they got their first dungeon gig.
Enveloped now, the sorcerer's bones and equipment would slowly be dissolved.
A few feet from the water elemental, the ground heaved up and smashed into Grok, throwing him off his hooves.
*Dammit, Earth Elemental! * he realised, *is n't there a league rule against more than one elemental on the field? *
But the Beansidhe referee's wail remained silent - apparently they were allowing it.
The elemental swung grassy fists at Grok, who ducked and rolled to the right. Behind him he could hear the pounding, armoured feet of the opposition knight, ready to tackle.
He had moments to make his move. Swinging his head to sight the knight, he saw his team's necromancer doing something near at the back of the field, casting some dark magic.
With a grin, Grok remembered the play.
With all his prodigious strength, he hurled the ball backward, over the head of the knight where the ball landed on the top of the gelatinous cube with a *splok! *
The knight crashed into Grok, then the two elementals piled on top - he was going to be sore in the morning.
In the clear space in midfield where everyone was avoiding the creeping cube, a green vortex appeared under the block of goo.
The other team realised, too late, the teleportation ritual, running for the cube and launching themselves into it - in a desperate effort to pull the ball free.
The ritual completed with a word of power from the necromancer and the cube vanished, reappearing over the goal line with half a dozen different Lawful Good creatures protruding from the tacky, transparent surface.
The Sidhe referee ran over, her red braids bouncing frantically.
Grok pulled himself up onto his elbows - now was the moment of truth; had the cube crossed the line before the ball had been dissolved?
The Sidhe held up three fingers, calling for the Third Eye umpire.
A dark cloud swirled down from the stands and the three fates coalesced, the maiden, the mother and the crone.
They conferred breifly with the ref, who then let out an eerie wail of triumph;
`` Goal to the Chaotic Evils!''
Grok roared in triumph and ran over to the gelatinous cube, who sat quivering in excitement.
`` You did it buddy! You scored the winning point!''
In response, the cube rolled into the stands and started consuming screaming spectators.
Grok wiped a tear from his nose,
`` Man I love that guy.''
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[ WP ] Hitler finds out that zombies have taken over Russia and surrounding countries . Write from the prospective of Anne Frank after Hitler decides to free the Jews from camps .
| February 24, 1942
I wanted to clean my hair but again no water. Soon I wont be able to tell the difference between my hair and a barrel of hay.
I do n't understand why my mother does n't let me walk around anymore. It's not like the bad men are going to see me walking around, my head does n't even reach the window. Why does she have to be so mean? I miss Moortje so much. She would always make me feel better when I'm sad.
-Anne
April 16, 1942
Less and less I'm seeing Otto nervously gaze out the window. I overheard a conversation between him and Victor about how less frequently they see the bad men. I think that's a good sign. Maybe one day we can leave here and go back home.
Finally was able to put butter on my bread this morning. The cold, salty topping reminded me of the breakfasts we had at Frankfurt. The yellow cake mom made was so sweet.
-Anne
May 1, 1942
Bad men dropped by the store. Two of them. They have such loud footsteps, each followed by a jingle from their badges. Reminds me of Christmas. Mom always makes me sit in the corner of the attic, but I know I can be quiet wherever. We heard a third bad man come into the store, yelling something. The three of them rushed out. Mom was so worried they found us out, but Victor said it was something.... else.
-Anne
May 4, 1942
Dad and Victor have been arguing for so long. Victor wants to leave the store and move away for some reason. Dad keeps begging him to stay so that we can live here. I do n't understand why he wants to leave.
-Anne
July 13 1942
Victor and everyone else left a few months ago. It was so quiet with only me, mom, and dad. New people came to live with us. Peter seems nice. They told us it was n't bad outside. Bad men do n't really come around anymore. Maybe we can go home. I wonder if Moortje is waiting for us. I bet she found some other cats to live with.
-Anne
October 30 1942
Something weird happened today. Bad man ran into the store, blood all over his face. We went to our hiding spots as dad grabbed his handgun. Bad man opened the attic door and ran into us. Dad pointed his gun at the bad man, but the bad man begged us to not kill him. He wanted pity. Even asked us to keep him here. Dad wanted to know what was going on. Bad man spoke in language I did n't know. Saw my dad's face turn to horror. Maybe we are n't going home. Food is running low.
-Anne
December 12 1942
Mom and Dad decide to go out to look for food. Dad gives me a gun, and told me to use it on things that do n't look human. I asked if I should shoot the bad men, but he just looked down and said no. I do n't understand what he means. I hope they come back soon. I'm so hungry.
-Anne
December 25 1942
I do n't know what to do anymore. Mom and Dad never came back from their trip to get food. I do n't know what to do. It's so cold up here and I feel lost. I'm hungry.
The cannonfire has stopped. The only noises I hear from the outside are grunts and footsteps. I feel so alone. Are the bad men gone?
-Anne
December 26 1942
Ran to the store across the street. I found some cans of peas. No bad men, but some old man attacked me. His eyes were grey, almost dead looking. I was able to escape and did n't need to use dad's gun, but he bite me on my arm. I bandaged up my arm all by myself. Mom would be proud. Maybe I'll be okay. Things are looking up.
-Anne
December 28 1942
I feel sick. My head hurts so bad. I ca n't stop sweating. I do n't understand why. The peas were bad maybe. My arm feels like it's on fire. Coughing so much. It hurts to even write. I just
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[ IP ] I really want to know the legend behind the rider ( s ) of this majestic creature .
| *The Cockafore. Half Cockatoo, half Horse. *
*Dangerous. Deadly. *
*Majestic. *
*It is said that no man could ever harness such a beast. The beak alone is reason to be fearful of even approaching a Cockafore. The bird like reflexes, the strength of the beak... a man's head can be snapped off like a berry for the creature's meal in the speed of an eye's blink. Which has happened throughout history, as man has tried to tame these fantastical wonders of nature. *
*But I, Sir Harcourt Jadsword, Great Knight of the Kingship, am the man who will tame a Cockafore. Songs will be sung, tales will be told, and sculptures created to showcase my prowess as... The Cockrider! *
`` No, confound it... that sounds absurd. I ca n't be known as The Cockrider... scratch that immediately.''
`` Yes, my lord,'' replied Gary, my squire. I swear I heard a small snicker, but decided to be magnanimous and not behead him then and there for his insolence. Besides, the blood would get on the rug, and the missus would be most displeased, as she rather liked it.
`` Where was I?'' I asked him.
Gary looked up from the parchment. `` You were saying'songs will be sung, tales...''
`` Yes, yes, all right,'' I said dismissively, as I remembered the speech. I started back up again. `` Songs will be sung, Tales will be told, and statues crea...''
`` My lord,'' interrupted Gary.
`` What?''
Gary looked at me with a bit of curiousness and said, `` You said sculptures before... do you wish to change that too?''
I pondered. *Statues or sculptures... hm... * `` I ca n't decide, squire,'' I replied. I shouted into the rest of the modest castle, `` Rebecca! My darling... can you come assist me?''
My betrothed came into the study of the castle after some moments, rather exasperated. `` WHAT do you want this time?'' she asked. If it were n't for my undying love for her, I'd behead her for her insolence. Besides, the blood would get on the doors of the study, and I rather like them.
`` I need to decide between using'statue' or'sculpture' in my journal entry.''
She flapped her arms up and down, further emphasizing her exasperation. `` Portrait.''
I clapped my hands together in agreement, `` WONderful! You are always an inspirational person, my love. Indeed, I will use portrait!''
`` Fantastic,'' she said as she whirled about, leaving the room to do.. whatever it was she was doing. Hm. She seemed rather flush.. was she sick? No matter... I had a task at hand, and had to attend to it. `` Alright Gary. Let us continue... where were we?''
`` Songs.''
`` No, Gary, she clearly said'portrait', so that's what has to be used.''
Gary looked up with... I'm not sure what it's called, but certainly there was insolence in there somewhere. *Stupid rug... * He said, `` My lord, you had me write'Songs will be sung, Tales...''
`` YES... Tales will be told, and portraits sculpted to commemorate...''
Gary spoke up again. `` My lord... my apologies, but portraits are generally not'sculpted'.''
*Rug... must remember the rug... * I told myself as a mantra, then spoke slowly, `` Gary. I can not finish my journal, and my thoughts, with all these interruptions. Just write it down. Consider it a given you will rewrite it later for the final version.''
`` Yes, my lord.''
`` Now... how are portraits made, exactly?''
`` Painted. Painted is a very good way to get a portrait made. Oil paintings are very good indeed.''
I sighed, `` Very well.'Painted' then. Portraits will be painted, and everyone will speak of my skill as... The Cockmaster!''
Gary lost it at this point.
His head, that is. Nobody laughs at Sir Jadsword. *Dammit. Now I need a new rug, AND a new squire. * `` REBECCA!''
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[ WP ] You are a terrorist trying to hijack a plane . Unknown to you and your team , so is everyone else on the plane .
| Window seats. I hate window seats, I do n't mind looking out the tiny window every now and then but it's a hassle when you have to go to the toilet. I've had too much to drink, I'm nervous. Am I sweating? is it too hot in here? *deep breaths, keep calm, you got this. *
It's time. 15:35. I look across the aisle and I get the signal from my compatriot. *Fuck, deep breaths, keep calm, you got this* `` Excuse me Sir'', as i try to squeeze past my fellow passenger, `` Sorry, just need to go to the toilet, excuse me''. Okay here we go. Walk slowly, do n't raise any suspicion. Look cool. I make it down the aisle. The toilet sign is vacant, good, just as planned, the air hostess is standing a little farther down, she gives me a wink before I go in.
I close the door behind me, make sure it's closed, double-check, it's secure. Okay no time to waste. I only have 3 minutes to unscrew the panel on the floor and grab the weapons. I'm sweating, fuck. *deep breaths, keep calm, you got this*
I start to unscrew the panel with a special coin we were given, when suddenly the plane shakes violently. Must be turbulence. Focus. I resume but this time the shaking is even more violent, we must have hit a pretty bad patch. I'm being thrown around in this tiny toilet, fuck it I've lost the coin, where the fuck did it go? I try to hold onto to the sink and try to get up but the plane does a sudden drop I slip and hit my head on the toilet sink really hard. I was unconscious with my head in the toilet, God knows how long I was passed out, need to alert the others.
I Open the door and as soon as I step out there's a gun pointed to my head. *what the fuck?! * There's a lot of yelling and shouting going on, nothing makes sense, what the hell is going on here? I look down the aisle and it seems like there is a Mexican stand off among all the passengers, as every one is yelling in different tongues, I feel the plane is making its descent now.
Among all this chaos the PA system crackles and the pilot is making an announcement. `` Uhh -- thiz iz your uhhh captain speaking. sorry for ze bumpy ride, it's my first time.. uhhh flying such big plane.. but.. **all you infidels will burn in hell... AllahooAkbaaarrr!!! **'' The plane begins descending rapidly.
*deep breaths, ah fuck who am I kidding I need a....*
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[ WP ] Write about an eldritch god who goes insane trying to understand and comprehend the human world .
| `` Why do they continue to exist on their own account? They die after, roughly, at maximum, one hundred years. One hundred years! Imagine that... And! effectively, they are useless after eighty or so. And I travel for eons at a time, in fact! to get anywhere in this realm, it takes, give or take, three millennia, to hop place to place! Think about it. And yet they still continue to live day to day? Knowing they have only but one hundred years? The Clavering S'thgohs only have an effective conscious span of ten thousand years, and with this knowledge they ( directly after birth ) reproduce, then sacrifice their minds so that it may be used by a higher being, such as I! But these humans! These HUMANS! They spend day in and day out, doing random tasks for some form of papyrus, only to sacrifice this papyrus ( or `` Money as they call it ) to another human in return for housing or sustenance. But with the end goal of `` working'' more. Their existence is... is... confusing. Maddening almost, they rely on something they call `` art''. This... This... `` Art'' is of nothing witnessed in my concious span. They pull and twist their voices and hit devices they have created to create sound. A sound so perplexing... A sound... A sound of `` music'' as they call it. It, it makes me feel... feel almost... No...... OH! AND THEN! AND THEN! their runes... their ruins conjure no such cantrips or curses, but they weave tales. Tales of `` The Human Condition'' as they deemed it. It serves as an explanation, and explanation to their insanity. For the human condition is to live, though it may be short, to live it through and through. And to experience and to `` Love''. `` Love'', I have witnessed this force on their realm, it is unexplainable, it is intangible, it is immeasurable. And it holds these creatures together, it binds their conciousness and their flesh to existence it self.
I have walked among the Dark Ones of U'nogoth, I have peered into the well of deviation and mortilization seeped by the Old One itself, I have ended, vigintillions of concious spans in the matter of trilli-seconds. Yet I have not witness a force, or wave, or power as binding, as the humans `` Love''. I will not return to their realm in fear, and I recommend no other entities do the same. I can never comprehend them, but I may be able to understand why they do what they do, and it is for their `` Love'', and I promise you their is nothing that can keep them from it.''
EDIT: Just did this at 3 am, just re read it, did one grammar fix.
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[ WP ] Make me have the feels about a piece of garbage in your trash .
| It was something he had never thought he'd have. She had picked it out for him. Although his friends teased him about it, he was secretly proud that he'd kept his for so long.
Over time it became worn with much love and care. It's luster was undiminished, but seemed to become deeper, and richer with time. It saw him through some dark times, times when he thought they would n't make it. He would touch it then, caressing it gently, remembering better times.
That was before he found her sleeping with his best friend. Now, every time he looked at it, he thought of them in bed together. It burned him to even touch it. Today, he tossed it in the trash.
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[ WP ] Write the lowest point of a much larger story .
| By the time Orys reached the others, the crack in the ground had become a gaping chasm; a deformed, jagged mouth pulsating with queer orange light. Orys knew what came next, but that knowledge afforded no benefit to him or his companions... there was simply no time to act. Regardless, he opened his mouth in a valiant effort to warn his friends to get behind any kind of cover they could, but before the words made it past his lips, it happened. The very air around the pit seemed to tear at itself and erupt as the chasm gave way to the Below.
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Orys was thrown back 20 yards into a granite wall, hitting his head with a sickening crack upon impact. He somehow kept his consciousness, and had enough presence of mind to notice he was missing his left arm at the shoulder, and his left leg at the knee. Grost and Val lay motionless at the edges of the great hole in the ground, and neither appeared wholly intact. Great slabs of earth and stone shifted and shattered as the pit began to churn and drain into the earth itself. Red lightning danced around the continuously exploding pit as Hestrom finally rose, and said in a frighteningly quiet voice, `` It is time for this to end.'' He descended.
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[ FF ] We should 've have known .
| Around the nation, homes are abandoned. Dinner tables sit with plates of half-eaten meals and large spoons still bearing servings of various side dishes. Televisions are left on, tuned to Cowboys Stadium where the home team played to a sparse crowd.
The blitz had been sudden and unexpected. More importantly, it was effective. That that did n't bolt when the first ones hit ran at the second volley. The nation is in a frenzy. Every man for themselves. Chaos.
That was n't the plan, but that does n't mean we were n't at fault. We should've known. We should've know this would happen. We never should have started our Black Friday sales at 3pm on Thanksgiving Day.
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[ WP ] Write a horror story , but the characters have superpowers .
| Her heart thumped and her tired legs tried to keep up with the rapid beat. The song that played in her chest was one of warning. One of fear.
In the darkness behind her, somewhere in that deep black, he stood and watched. She heard no footfalls that followed, he made no effort to pursue, and that made it worse. So much worse.
In one lunging stride she opened a door, stepped through, and slammed it closed behind her. She spun and watched. Waited. The door did nothing.
The door she had gone through was wooden and made featureless by the shadows of the unlit hallway in which it stood. This door, the door she now watched with unblinking, burning, tear-filled eyes, was bright in the light of day, squares of stained glass obscured, but could not hide, the small front room of her summer home.
Here it was day. Bright and warm.
A cold finger of chill ran up her back and filled her skull. She shuddered.
It was day, but she did not feel safe.
She turned away from the door and saw him.
He stood, arms crossed. A figure dressed in black, alone at the edge of her garden. It was too far to see, but she knew he smiled. Smiled at her. There was something wrong with it. Wrong with the smile. It made her head scream and her heart thump harder.
Her legs begged her to run.
She stepped backwards, the glass door rattled, a sweat drenched hand hunted for the knob whilst her eyes stayed on him - on it. If she looked away. God forbid she look away.
Leaning on the door as she turned the knob, she stepped into another room, and closed the door between her and it.
This door was white, a small window of glass showed the pathology lab on the other side. She knew he was there, in the hallway of the hospital.
She could n't get away.
It laughed. She did n't need to look. He was there. To her left. Just down the hall. Closer than he had been in the garden. His laugh was a cackle.
The sound made her turn, and for the first time she could see him clearly. It's dark hair was long, moist, and clung to the pale skin of his face. Yellow eyes stared out from the darkened pits of his eye sockets. But worst of all - worse than those horrible piercing, hungry, eyes - was the smile.
The slash of red that made his lips pulled back to show the mouthful of pointed, brown talons, too gnarled and long to be called teeth.
Eyes back on the door, she tried to think of somewhere safe.
`` Lady Gateway,'' Said the creature. It's voice was a coarse whisper, hissed through the sharp and deadly mess in it's mouth. `` Come now, you ca n't run from me.''
Madeleine Chase, Lady Gateway, tried anyway.
***
The metal door rung like a gong as she slammed it closed. Her hands, flat against the steel, shook. Madeleine rested her forehead against the coolness of the door.
She was in The Armory.
Secure. Fortified.
The room held the many tools and weapons the team used to fight crime. Where were they?
`` Nice place you have here, Gateway.''
The door creaked as she tried to pull it open. `` Stupid!'' She cursed herself for choosing this place, such a heavy door would make for a slow escape.
A hand, far too long and tipped with talons, gripped her arm.
Madeleine spun and kicked, the heavy heel of her boot collected with the creatures fanged mouth, and it let go of her arm. In the motion of her spin she had pulled the door open, but as she went to dive through a hand gripped the leg that she had kicked with. It was too fast.
Her chest ached. The adrenalin painted the world with detail. She could feel each knuckle around her head-high ankle. She could feel the grain of the door in her hands.
Their eyes met. Gateway's eyes were red, wide, and full of fear. The Creature's were yellow, small, and full of hunger. She held the opened door with both hands, swung her free foot up, and kicked the creature in the wrist - with both legs now free she used her purchase on the door to cartwheel through the air and into the room beyond the gateway.
The Creature snatched her flowing auburn hair and pulled her to the floor before she could get all the way through. She screamed as she pulled against it's grip. The creature laughed as she struggled.
A slow, booming, cough-like cackle.
She crawled backwards, one hand still on the door, her head ablaze with pain. Madeleine was mostly through the door, but the creatures grip on her hair kept her from closing it. Eyes squeezed shut, she pulled back, crawling backwards, one hand on the edge of the door, trying to pull it shut.
It laughed at her.
Through the pain and fear she opened her eyes and looked towards the doorway, it was open only by an inch, but through that crack she saw a yellow eye, brown teeth, and a large white hand with a tight grip on her hair.
`` Go on. Close it.''
She did.
***
This door was wooden and lit by the warm light of a desk lamp. Madeleine had chosen the door, her husband had chosen the lamp. It was his study.
The putrid smell of burned hair hung in the air. When she had closed the door and severed the gateway the hair in between had been cut.
Blood poured from her badly torn scalp and painted her hands as she tried to press down the wound. Deep sobs shook her body as Madeleine begged the God's she did n't believe in to save her. Her mind was too panicked to think of her team and where they were.
For a brief moment her mind cleared and she thought of her husband. Her partner. `` Honey, where are-''
Her face broke with the first few impacts with the door. Nose and teeth alike shattered as the creature swung her head against the heavy oak. It's white hand was knotted through the hair on the back of her head, it's fingers long enough to grip her head like a ball.
Madeleine coughed blood and shards of enamel out of her mouth. Her left eye socket was crushed but to her horror she could still see with the right.
The Creature let her fall.
The ever fighting heroine, Lady Gateway, reached up for the door handle. She saw the white mass of the Creatures hand grip her wrist. Searing hot pain thundered down her arm as a muffled gunshot-like crack filled her ears.
Instinct pulled her hand towards her. She pulled the wrist the creature had held to her chest as her other hand sought to comfort it's twin.
`` Oh, god!''
She looked through the pain to her wrist. Her empty wrist. Instead of a hand she had felt a warm wet nothing. Where her hand once was, only a bloody stump remained.
Madeleine screamed and wailed. `` No, no no-''
A wet crunch stopped her.
She looked at it. The creature. She watched as it put the remaining half of her hand in it's mouth. She watched as it closed it's eyes and bit down. Watched as it savoured it's meal. Savoured her hand.
The song in her chest, the rapid beat of her heart, called for her to run. But, she could n't. She just could n't.
The Creature brought it's face to hers. It's brown teeth darkened with her own blood, the smell of copper was on it's breath.
`` You and I shall have some fun.''
She wished to die.
She did n't for hours.
|
[ WP ] Issues with your phone 's Touch ID login make you realize that your fingerprints are changing monthly .
| β Look, I β ve had this problem every month since I bought this damn phone. I waited in line for days and shelled out hundreds of dollars for this product β I shouldn β t have to keep bringing it back in so you guys can fix it. β
The genius squinted at me, adjusted his thick glasses. β Well, um, have you tried, like, a numerical password instead? β
β I don β t want to use a β numerical password β. I want the phone to work the way it β s advertised, dammit! β
He looked down at his tablet, swiped his index finger across the glass leaving a trail of Dorito dust on the screen. Like a frightened child, he floundered for something to occupy him for a moment, trying desperately to keep his eyes anywhere but on my face.
β Well, um, there was a recent update that- β
β Not another goddamn update! β I yelled. β Every month you β ve got another update coming out, and don β t think for a second that I don β t know what they do. You put them out there to fill up our hard drives and slow down our processors so we have to replace the phone with the next iteration of your bullshit. β
He whimpered like a dog. Pathetic. It made me sick, and all the angrier.
β I, um, could, like, unlock it again for you, sir. β
β Well, yes, you β re going to unlock it! And you β re going to figure out what β s wrong with my phone or you β re going to replace it! I β m not a happy customer! β
β Ok, well, let me see your phone for a minute. I β ll take it out back and unlock it for you, and see if we can β t, uh, determine what the issue is. β
I handed him the phone. β Thank you, β I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster.
I followed him as far as I could, insulting the way he walked and the bizarre smell of him, but he slipped through a door and out of sight. β If you can β t figure it out, I want a new phone that works goddammit! β
Around me, other customers shuffled around like excited children on Christmas morning, their eyes wide with enthusiasm and greed, smearing their collective bacteria on every surface. I gagged. The other β geniuses β β each one a bizarre combination of all things trendy and nerdy - followed them around, answering stupid questions and upselling products and services.
β It β s all a scam! β I yelled.
Silence. All of the dummies stopped and looked at me.
β They take your money and then they own you! Then their product breaks in a week, and they won β t do anything to help you! β
Around me, one blank, stupid face after another.
β But you β re not going to care. Your just going to- β
Behind me, a soft voice. β Sir? β
Expecting the Dorito genius, I whirled in my place ready to hurl another string of insults at him. I wanted to make sure he knew just how useless he was, but it wasn β t him. It was an older man in a pale blue t-shirt with a well-kept beard and short haircut.
β Sir, can I speak with you in back? β he asked.
β Are you the manager? β
β Yes. We took a look at your phone and there were a few issues I wanted to discuss with you. β
β Good, β I said. β There β s a few things I wanted to talk to you about, too. Your staff for one, and that idiot genius I spoke to earlier. β
β Just follow me back here, β he said with a smile.
The back office was in stark contrast to the smooth, high tech dΓ©cor of the showroom β much less light and much more grime. The manager lead me to a small table, on which sat a laptop. In the corner near the table sat two tall, cylindrical objects, on the surface of each was a single button the size of a quarter. They reminded me of glasses cases, only they were made of polished chrome.
The manager took a seat at the table and gestured to the seat nearest the cylinders.
β Do you remember your last visit here? β he asked.
β Yes, β I said as I took my seat.
β And the time before that? β
β Yes, I remember that, too. I keep having the same problems. Four times it β s been the fingerprint sensor locking me out. Before that, it was the voice recognition software. It β s been one damn problem after the other, and let me tell you, your staff has been absolutely no help whatsoever and I β β
β It β s an issue with the recent updates, β the manager said.
β That β s what the idiot out there told me. But first of all, I don β t update my phone, and second of all, I know your updates are all part of your β planned obsolescence β business model, and I β m not going to fall β β
β No, β said the manager. β It β s not the recent update with the phone, it β s a your recent updates. β
β What? β
β Let me show you something. β He retrieved my phone from his pocket and plugged it into the laptop. He punched keys for a few moments and brought up four images of a thumb print.
β These are the scans of your thumb print, each taken at a different point in the last few months. As this program will show youβ¦ β he gestured to the screen, on which the images began to overlap each other. They lined up and flashed red, a large bar with the words β Error: No Match β appearing over them. β β¦ they don β t match. β
I stared at the image. β That β s not possible. Wait, you keep the scans of our finger prints? β
β Data tracking, β he said, dismissing my question with a wave of his hand. β but that's irrelevant now. And look: if I do the same thing with your voice scans, you β ll see a similar error. β
I scoffed. β That β s stupid. Fingerprints don β t change. β
β Well, not if you β re human. β
β Iβ¦what? β I started to laugh. β That β s the stupidest excuse I β ve ever heard. β
β It β s the truth. You β re not human, you β re an iCustomer, an android designed to test the very limits of our geniuses. You β re meant to be the absolute worst of what they have to deal with on a daily basis. β
He stood and stepped over to one of the cylinders. He placed his thumb on the button and a seam appeared on its side with a hiss and a puff of air. The cylinder opened. Inside was a man with a thousand wires sticking out every which way from the sides of his head and body. He was sleeping. He could have been my twin.
β And this is the next iteration. We can β t quite get the finger prints or voice to be exactly the same on any two models, but it suits our purposes as that little flaw leads to a whole mess of problems that seems to piss all of you androids off enough. β
I looked at myself in the cylinder, scared and quaking. β Iβ¦android? β
β Yeah, well that β s what you are. A shame we didn β t have the foresight to buy that name first. iCustomer just doesn β t have the same ring to it. β
β But, why? Surely there are enough angry customers that you don β t need a robot to test your employees. β
He looked at me and smiled. β Not really. β
β Then what's the point?! This is insane! β I yelled. β And you just keep this thingβ¦ β I gestured to the cylinder, β β¦this coffin, lying back here for anyone to see? What do your employees think these are?! β
He smiled. β The geniuses, err, iGeniuses don β t ask too many questions. They β re programmed to answer questions, not ask. Not think about anything other than sales and tech support. β
β iGeniuses?'' I was panicking, getting even angrier than before. `` Are there any real people in this entire company? β
β Of course. I β m real. At least, I think I β m real. Most of the managers are. And the execs, and marketing. β He laughed. β The smartphone and tablet market are saturated. There isn β t enough room for innovation, but the next big thing is you. An entire mass produced iWorkforce. We β ll slowly phase out the flesh and blood employees once we figure out how to mass produce you cheaply. And work out a few bugs. β
I feltβ¦ I don β t know what I felt. It was an emotion I β d never experienced before nestled in the pit of my stomach. If I had a stomach that is.
β I could tell everyone, you know? There's a ton of customers out there. β I gestured to the storefront. `` You'll have an entire store of irate customers. I'm going to say something, and then-''
The manager laughed again. β No you won β t. Your latent programming inhibits your ability to reveal trade secrets. In fact, all you β re really able to do is make life miserable for our workers. I bet all you can think about right now is how bad an employee I am. β
He was right. I stood up to tell him exactly what I thought of him. He was so useless, so unhelpful. I hated his shirt; blue was an ugly color. I hated his little beard; it was unprofessional. I wanted his supervisor's number, or a corporate email account. I β d have him fired. I β d have his job.
He listened to me rant and rave, taking it much better than the iGenius. He even laughed at a few parts, which only pissed me off more. Then, he pressed a few buttons on his keyboard, and I froze. My body locked up, and my mouth snapped shut. That feeling in my β stomach β came back. With another few button presses, my legs started to move all on their own.
I walked to the cylinder, pressed my finger to the button. The door hissed open and I stepped inside. Against my will I began plugging various wires into my body, one by one.
The manger stood up, placed his hand on the door. β Don β t worry, β he said. β Once the update begins, you β ll forget all about this. Just try to take some solace in the fact that you were created with a purpose. Most of us real people are n't so lucky. We have to look for one. β
He closed the door. It was pitch black in the cylinder, and cold. I could not move, I couldn β t not speak. That feeling in my stomach fluttered like mad. I wanted to scream at him, to tell him exactly where he could stick β
*******DOWNLOADING UPDATE*******
|
[ WP ] In the near future , the secret to time travel has been discovered - in order to travel back into the past there needs to be a 'receiving station ' at the other end - explaining why nobody from the future has been observed up 'til now . The first such 'station ' is about to be completed .
| 21st of June, 2056. Beijing, China.
The day had come.
That was the slogan everyone was muttering that day. This day would stay in history books for ever. If the consept of history made sense any more, that is. The result of the fifteen-year global endeavour of the Feynman project was standing in the middle of the enormous purpose-built stadium, capable of holding around 150,000 people. Inside the stadium, there were every important person imaginable. There was the British king George VII, Thiago Messi, North West... This really was the who's who of the world. In addition, more than a million people had gathered to Beijing, where huge screens had been put in every square, to be part of it. Needless to say, the event was streamed everywhere around the globe and beyond. It was estimated that 10 billion people, 90 % of the human population, would be watching.
At exactly 18.00 UTC, the UN main Secretary, Ms. Kovac, started her speech. It was a speech that was prepared for longer than any speech before, made to be remembered. Unfortunately for her, every single person was focusing on the shining metal dome next to her and waiting for her to end the honors.
The Adidas Receiver, more commonly just called The Receiver to skip the sponsors name, was a hemispherical object coated with shiny aluminum. A door was meant to open on it every time someone was coming through. Not much else was visible to the public and many knew that the actual hardware was tens of kilometers away, where a particle accelator, largest ever built obviously, was located.
At 19.02 UTC, two minutes late because of an official sleeping in the control room, everything was ready. Ms. Kovac moved behind the control board. To be honest, it contained only one button, a big red one, but that was what it was called anyway.
`` Now it is the time. For the end of time!'' she yelled in hegemony and pressed the button.
Everyone stared at the machine when a blue light lit on it. It meant that the machine was turned on succesfully. Everyone was trying to get the first glimpse of what was coming through.
At 19.04 UTC, nothing had appeared from the machine. The earnest went out calling it a failure and saying they did n't ever believe it would work.
At 19.15 UTC it started to seem like something had gone wrong.
At 23.00 the event was cut off. The machine was left on and the stream was still available online, but it's view count started to decline.
One week later, at Cambridge University, UK, the core team of scientists for the Feynman project had gathered for the analysis. Everyone waited the chairman of the committee, sir Percival Golde, a respected professor and Nobel laureate who had just celebrated his 50th anniversary, to begin.
`` What happened was the thing we feared the most. Nothing went wrong.''
A stir went through the committee. The youngest person in the room, 21 year old maths progidy and Harvard professor Jane Samuels, stood up.
`` So you are saying that the machine is well and running but no one is coming from the other side? Are you sure of that?''
`` Within six sigmas of accuracy, yes. There are a few possible explanations. Maybe no one just ever in the future ever builds the Sender. But that sure seems rather unlikely, given the massive amount of time left for someone to do it. It can also be that there is a mechanism in the universe preventing time travel, something elusive, of which we have n't even got a clue. In any case, our finance for building the Sender has completely been cut off. The sponsors see no incentive to build a machine we already know wo n't work.''
The project was terminated soon after.
60 YEARS LATER
21st of June, 2116. Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania.
Professor Samuels, now an old lady, glimpsed the letter once more. It contained what seemed to an ordinary person like complete gibberish. She had been deciphering it for a week and she knew there were not many paople that can write such ciphers. The answer was a set of coordinates and a time. And there she was at the right place, both spatially and temporally. There was a door right in front of her. She knocked it twice. The door opened.
`` Long time no see'', said a very old looking man sitting in a wheelchair.
`` Sir Percival.'' Samuels had slightly anticipated something like this because of the obvious anniversary. She knew she did n't sound very pleased and knew Golde had noticed it as well. He was a wizard at reading other peoples emotions. `` 55 years, 2 months and 12 days, if I remember correctly.''
`` Indeed. Please come in.''
Samuels walked after Golde to what seemed to be a former aeroplane hangar. It was filled with futuristic technology, screens and instruments everywhere. In the middle, there was a cylindrical glass tube, big enough to fit a man. It was open and Golde rolled in.
`` So you have built it.'' Samuels broke the silence. `` The Sender.''
`` Correct, once again. Nice to see you have n't caught any kind of mental desease.''
`` Why?'' Samuels said sharply. `` The events of the past...''
``... are the very reason I'm doing this'', Golde snapped back. `` I had sacrificed everything in my life to build the Receiver. The only way to turn it from a failure into a success is to build the Sender. It took me a few decades to find an investor but fortunately there was a Russian oligarch, thank a supernatural being those still exist, who was willing to fund my research. And now it is ready.''
`` But you saw already what happened. That is extremely dangerous, and not just for you. And even if it worked, you'd destroy this line of future from that day 60 years ago to the present. Most people who live right now were not even born back then. You would erase them, basically commiting a mass murder. And on a personal note, I have children and grandchildren. They'd be gone as well.''
`` Do n't be stupid!'' Golde started to sound a bit tense. `` There will be new people in the alternate line of events. And there is a 50 % chance that your offspring would be even better human beings in the alternate reality than what they are in this.''
Samuels did not seem convinced. `` I see you have different ethical and onthological axioms than I do. But do n't you realize that there is a fair change that you will make the universe collapse in a paradox. That would end existing as we know it. And the third option is obviously that you would simply disappear. Right now, that seems to be the best case scenario.''
`` You do n't know how obsessed I have become with this.'' Golde's face indeed showed some signs of obsession. `` I wanted to have you here this day. There were not many people with whom I have had a meaningful conversation. And now you claim I have made a mistake. But nothing can stop me anymore. I will not change my mind and this machine is ready. I have secretely attached it to various energy sources around the world. I will be able to get a single energy spike off them before they will realize it. This is my only chance. And I'm doing it now.'' He pulled a remote from his pocket.
`` My Fermi approximation tells that there is around 99,95 % chance that this will fail. And as we have already established, I do n't consider your success a positive thing either.'' Samuels' micro expressions told she was extremely worried.
`` I disagree with your approximation. I guess we must let the past decide.''
Golde pressed the button and the glass tube closed. An extremely loud low noice filled the room and nearly knocked Sanders to the ground. When she raised her head, Golde had disappeared. She hold her breath.
Nothing happened.
|
[ WP ] - A scientist finds a way to break the first law of thermodynamics and creates a perpetual motion machine of the first kind . He would 've never predicted the consequences ...
| **June 12, 2015 9:20am**
This morning, when I arrived at the lab, I observed a strange behavior of my experiment. The wheel was still turning. I checked both the input and output and they were disconnected. They were both around the same temperature too, so it ca n't be from heat in the air either.
It's turning very slowly though, so I assume I simply forgot to stop it yesterday night. It should have stopped by itself by now, but I might be wrong.
**June 12, 2015 9:50am**
This behaviour intrigued me. I had to make the calculations. And in no way is it possible that the wheel would still be turning by now. Maybe the room is not sealed correctly anymore. I should check, just in case. I ca n't let my work be altered by such a trivial factor.
**June 12, 2015 11:30am**
Apparently the room is completely sealed, as it should be. I am not sure of what that is supposed to mean.
**June 12, 2015 11:31am**
Just as I was writing the previous entry, I looked back at the wheel, a bit puzzled. I did n't touch it since this morning. But it looks like it's rotating a bit faster than previously.Maybe checking if the room was sealed impacted the conditions inside the room, but I'm starting to think I found out something unexpected. That would be wonderful.
**June 12, 2015 11:46am**
I decided to put my experiment on hold while I observe the phenomena. I'm going to measure its rotational speed so I can actually find out if there is anything abnormal. If I'm unlucky, I'll just get back to my actual work tomorrow. It's better to investigate than to miss the opportunity.
**June 12, 2015 1:17pm**
I came back from lunch, excited to see the results. Even if it's too early to assume anything, I can say there is indeed something bizarre. The wheel is going faster as I thought. The measures show the speed increased steadily while I was away.
**June 12, 2015 1:26pm**
The wheel is now rotating at Ο/180 rad.s^ ( -1 ), exactly one degree per second. I'm trying to understand what lead to this. Where is the source of this energy? The temperature of the room does n't seem to be changing, so I would assume heat is not responsible. Output and input are still disconnected and have been since I arrived. There does n't seem to be any source for this energy. I must find out what it is.
**June 12, 2015 3:22pm**
I reviewed everything. I tried to search for the energy input but I did n't find anything. And the wheel is rotating faster again. No parameter seem to be involved in this. I only see one possibility, but it seems too crazy to even consider.
**June 12, 2015 3:46pm**
I called Henri, he would n't believe me. I told him I checked everything, sent him the measures I got so far and he still wo n't believe me. I ca n't blame him, I ca n't believe it myself. I'll try to invite him to see by himself.
**June 12, 2015 4:58pm**
Henri finally accepted and came to the lab. Of course he did n't want to come for nothing, but I finally managed to persuade him. He verified everything again with me. I like the puzzled face I saw back then. I'm not the only one speechless. I got confirmation that something unusual is happening. He still was n't one hundred percent convinced when he left, but he still asked that I gave him news about it.
**June 12, 2015 5:00pm**
I am now pretty certain of this. Today is a special day for science. It might be the first step for the future. I still do n't know what parameters lead to this situation, but the result is here. I broke the first law of thermodynamics. The wheel is now rotating at a speed of Ο/160 rad.s^ ( -1 ) and there is still no apparent power input. I will of course observe the phenomenon more before telling this to anyone else.
**June 12, 2015 5:49pm**
I tried to understand what could have broken the first law of thermodynamics in my experiment and I still ca n't find anything. I hope I can at least have a lead before exposing it. For now, I have to go home, sadly, so I will continue this tomorrow.
**June 13, 2015 8:12am**
My wife will probably hate me for leaving so early this morning but she would n't understand what I am into. Surprisingly, the wheel seems to be moving faster than it should. I checked the measures and it does n't seem to be linear anymore. That's really interesting. Right now, the wheel is close to Ο rad.s^ ( -1 ). The temperature in the room also seems to have increased over night. I am already thinking about the possibility that it is breaking the second law as well. But I do n't want to go too fast.
**June 13, 2015 10:13am**
My observations seem to confirm what I saw this morning: the speed of the wheel is not increasing linearly. My best guess is that the linearity from yesterday was just due to the lack of precision from the tools. That would not be surprising.
**June 13, 2015 11:05am**
The wheel's speed is currently around 2Ο rad.s^ ( -1 ). It's starting to worry about the increase in the speed. It seems to be exponential. I want to observe it some more, but it might become dangerous to have this wheel create too much energy.
**June 13, 2015 11:34am**
I saved all the information I gathered since yesterday securely. I fear I must shut down the experiment now. The speed of the wheel keeps increasing and it's almost scary. I also have the confirmation that the second law of the thermodynamics had been broken as well. The wheel produces mechanical energy, but heat too. It probably was n't enough earlier to be observable.
**June 13, 2015 11:53am**
I tried stopping it remotely but to no avail. I tried changing a few parameters, but it did n't do much. I tried plugging the output back in so it would consume its energy but it only slowed it down for a few minutes. With no idea of how it happened, it might be harder than I thought to stop the phenomenon.
**June 13, 2015 12:05pm**
Since I ca n't do anything remotely, I will have to step in. Maybe breaking the isolation will be enough, but I doubt so. I got some liquid nitrogen, to try to cool it down. That should be enough to slow it, then stop it.
**June 13, 2015 12:16pm**
I'm getting seriously afraid. I tried liquid nitrogen, it was still not enough. I tried blocking it, but it was showing too much resistance and finally took over. This thing had broken two laws of physics. Maybe it's even breaking more of them. I do n't know what it's capable of. I ca n't keep trying to stop it like that. I need to alert everyone.
**June 13, 2015 12:43pm**
I alerted everyone I could. Sent a mail to every list I have, including government agencies. I do n't know what to do anymore. The wheel is now too fast to count rotations by eye. I hope my message sounded urgent enough and my measures were credible.
**June 13, 2015 12:50pm**
7 minutes since I sent it. Nobody has answered the mail, nobody has come in here. I need to go tell everyone else here at least. Maybe we can find a solution together.
**June 13, 2015 1:04pm**
It took some time to gather other non-skeptic scientists. I'm lucky it was around lunch time and most people were eating, otherwise I may have ended up running around for longer.
**June 13, 2015 1:16pm**
They saw it. They tried what I did earlier, but it did n't work better. Trying to force it to stop by applying mechanical force to it only seemed to be making it generate a lot of heat and force even more. Like an engine would. It's a normal behavior, but we tried what we could. Now everyone seems afraid. They're sharing my concerns.
**June 13, 2015 1:53pm**
The whole complex is now concerned by this one wheel. Even the ones who were skeptic believed me instantly when they saw it with their own eyes. Now that I'm not alone though, we got attention from higher spheres. Government seems to be getting as worried as us about the subject.
**June 13, 2015 2:36pm**
What I'm seeing is beyond imagination. The wheel is moving faster than ever and a very faint light appeared at its center. It's producing too much energy. The room is starting to be really hot, despite the air conditioning still being on.
**June 13, 2015 2:37pm**
As if it was n't surreal enough, helicopters landed, with men in black suits coming out of them. They just told us to go back home and that they were taking care of it from now own. I left the room, having no choice. Are they really going to be able to solve it? Do they know better than us? Are there really secret government agencies that can solve this kind of problem? But if so, why would they let us go away like this? I am lost. None of this makes sense.
**June 13, 2015 3:15pm**
I'm back at home. I just told my wife that we had a little incident and that we needed to leave for the day. I would n't want to worry here, and it might be hard to explain anyway. Even if I told the truth, I doubt she would believe me. She would probably think I'm joking or exaggerating.
|
[ WP ] Write about the most unlikely super hero , who their super villain would be , and a battle between them ...
| The street was deserted, all the bystanders having fled into the nearby highrises. Two men faced each other on the street. One had only discovered his abilities a few weeks ago. And when he did, he knew he had to go out and help people. He was the town β s newest superhero, Prose. And the other man its newest villain, Blitz Talk, who decided to start his reign of terror only a few days ago.
β I will win this battle, and you won β t be able to tattle. I rise to greatness, as you become nameless! β Prose yelled out.
He immediately felt the power well up inside of himself. Anything that Prose rhymed became the truth. An odd ability, but a powerful one nonetheless.
β I β ll walk away successful and you β ll be regretful. I β ll be the best and you β ll fail your quest. β Blitz Talk β s words came out rapidly, quickly canceling out Prose β s abilities.
The thing was, whenever Blitz Talk rhymed, he could do the same as Prose. But he had to speak faster than Prose, who had to slowly take his time. The two continued to go at it for hours. And then it occurred to Prose what he needed to do to end this battle.
β Stop right there. I just figured out how to make you run out of air. You think your rhymes are so magnificent, but you aren β t all that brilliant. I β m sure your mom said you were special, but when I β m done with you, your tongue will be tied like a pretzel. β
Prose stood victorious as Blitz Talk responded.
β You think you are so great, but you fail to realize that you β ve taken the bait. In my trap you fall, a long nap awaits you all. When I β m through with this town, you will be remembered as only a clown. β
Blitz Talk laughed and laughed.
β Then you leave me no choice, I do what I must. Rhyme the word orange, or you shall combust. You can β t do it can you? I think not. But don β t worry, I β ve only found your weak spot. β
And so Prose watched as Blitz β s tongue tied. He struggled and struggled, but soon he died.
Prose stood in glory and so ends our story.
-230
|
[ WP ] You find yourself trapped in a strange room , with only two ways out . One is labelled `` 100 duck-sized horses '' and the other is labelled `` 1 horse-sized duck ''
| I double-bagged it today and found myself in a strange room.
For those who are not necessarily aware of what double-bagging is, permit me to explain. `` Double-bagging'' is referring to putting two bags of tea in one mug. Doing so causes a strange effect in which the added burst of caffeine reacts to the fabric of reality in an unusual way. I first did this who knows how long ago and have not been back to my original dimension since. Thankfully, no matter how far I seem to go into the unknown, I always seem to have a stable internet connection which is convenient for chronicling my... I suppose I call them my Double-Bagging Adventures. I strongly urge you try this for yourselves. I have seen unimaginable sights; beings made of pure color energy, lounges for time-travelers, and physical incarnations of tarot cards just to name a few. However, if you have become particularly comfortable in your own reality where people do not spontaneously turn into gingerbread versions of themselves, then I would not recommend double-bagging. I'm not sure if I'll ever make it back `` home'' and even more uncertain what will happen next when I put two bags of tea in my favorite Spider-Man mug. So far, nothing has happened twice. But as I was saying...
I double-bagged it today and found myself in a strange room.
The room was lit by florescent lighting which I thought took some of the mysterious atmosphere away. The lights buzzed mundanely as I observed the rest of the room which had robin eggshell blue walls which put me in the mind of dentist offices. The room even had a similar smell of fluoride and anxiety. There was no furniture save an old, cheaply made wicker chair which I currently sat it. In front of me were two, large, tantalizingly red buttons. The buttons were labelled plainly in a no-nonsense kind of text that simply read, from left to right respectively:
*100 Duck-Sized Horses* and *1 Horse-Sized Duck*
The buttons fascinated me. There was no kind of doors, windows, not even cracks in the paint on the walls. It was as if this was a pocket of the universe specifically created to house one crappy chair and two very tempting buttons.
There were many questions to address. Firstly, what were the buttons attached to? There was clearly electricity flowing to this room but it was n't clear if the buttons led anywhere. There were no panels, not even holes in the wall that they fit into. Upon close observation, the buttons seemed to have grown organically right out of the wall.
This also begged the question if anything would happen if I pressed the buttons. As I stated before, I could see no discernible door of any kind. Of course this was going off of the assumption that by pressing the buttons, either a horse-sized duck or a hundred duck-sized horses would flood the room.
I had n't considered that before and I sat down in the wicker chair which creaked under my weight. I blew the steam off of my tea and gently sipped as I contemplated the two buttons. *Perhaps, * I thought to myself, *They transform you into a giant duck or a herd of miniature horses. * I started thinking which I would prefer to be turned into if that is, in fact, what the buttons' functions were. I thought that I would be more of a single mind if I turned into the horse-sized duck but that is rather large for a duck. I would n't fit in with other ducks and I would frighten people. I'd probably get picked up by a circus or some kind of research lab and I would n't want that.
But conversely, what if I became one hundred duck-sized horses? Would I operate on a hive-mind mentality or would my consciousness be spread across equally over a hundred horses? The obvious benefit to being such a small horse is that no one could ride you unless they were a gnome or perhaps an unusually small dwarf. Is that what would become for me? Would I become the mounts for some small and yet terrifying fantasy army? Or would I be free to roam the plains, coming and going as I please? Perhaps I would be captured and my one hundred part consciousness would be spread thin as people began to take duck-sized horses as pets. `` They're so cute!'' I could hear the imaginary consumers now. `` So tiny and they hardly make any mess and the kids just love'em. Little Johnny likes to strap his action figures to ours. We call her Buttercup!''
I suddenly shot up from my chair. *No, * I thought. *I would not let me and my tiny horse brethren to be shamed with such a title as* Buttercup*. * Somethings are just too indecent to imagine. I stared at the buttons and realized that this postulating was useless without knowing for certain what effect pushing the button would have.
Maybe it was activated by touch. I could take the chair, press a button with one of the legs, and watch what happens to it. But if I was wrong and the effect of the buttons was not concerned with touch then I would be taking a large risk.
I paced back and forth for a while. I shouted aloud to see if anyone would respond. Only the droning of the lights called back to me. I sat back in the chair thinking that if I did nothing, something might happen. I sat there for as long as I could hold out until I bellowed a kind of battle cry, rushed from my seat, and pressed both buttons.
At first, nothing happened. I then saw a thin line appear in the wall to my left. The line began to grow in width and I realized the wall was creating a window in itself. Staring from the window and behind a sheet of glass was a very annoyed looking, very large duck and one hundred tiny horses. The room they stood in was dark and looked far too small to be holding that many animals. Some of the horses were stacked on top of each other, some stood on a small table in the center of the room, most milled about on the floor, anxiously weaving between the duck's massive legs.
The duck glared at me in a way that only duck's can glare and said, `` Well, you're no fun.''
Something clicked into place and the floor opened up to drop me back into my comfy couch where I had initially taken my first sip. I took another sip now and was pleased to find that it was still warm.
My couch now sat in what looked like some kind of submersible room deep in some ocean where alien fish flicked by my window, curious of their new neighbor. I am never certain where I will end up at the end of these excursions but at the very least, the room seemed comfortable and had a kettle, so that was convenient. I am not of a scientific mind but I hope that the chronicles of my inter-dimensional travels are making it to my `` home'' reality's internet and I hope that people better suited than I are researching the effects of double-bagging tea. Until that moment, I will continue my travels and I will continue to document them in the blind hope that someone might find them and read them and I will put the kettle on.
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[ WP ] Humans are the first intelligent beings in the universe . It is our duty to guide those that come after us .
| From dust we rose and climbed the ladder of survival, at first we conquered our homes, fend off the predators and secured habitable camps; Those were our ancestors. With time we grew smarter, we became stronger, and faster, we would traverse beyond our homelands into the unknown and conquered what we set foot on; Those were our nations. Then we explored further, the seas, the heavens and the lands became our dominion; that was our world. We would grow and expand, we would seek more and more advancements, wars ravaged our lands but in unity we would rebuild. The lands fell silent on the sound of our footsteps, the seas would sing in sight of our ships, the air would dance in presence of our planes; we were gods of our world, or so we thought.
That was n't enough, our hunger never sated we'd want more so we begun conquering nature. When our eye saw nothing but peace, we'd look closer and we begun conquering what we saw not. We would stomp out the diseases; mastering our bodies. We would control the elements; sculpting our devices. We would control the very fabric our world was made of; we were gods of our world, or so we thought.
Then we gazed upwards into the heavens above and the earth below and sought for more. Our drills took us to the core and we controlled the very planet; We became the gods of this world. But then our mistakenly infallible minds were left dumbfounded when we traversed the heavens. We thought we were a rock in a jar, so we sought to conquer the jar, but the solar system was a speck on a beach, but we still did and felt humbled. We would seek to conquer the beach, but learned it's merely an atom in a sea, but we still did and felt humbled. We would seek to conquer the sea and traversed far and wide, only to learn it's a single point in multi-verse, but we still did and felt humbled.
And as we explored we found others, others like our fathers and our fathers' fathers and our fathers' fathers' fathers, and we watched. We watched others as much as we watched ourselves and we learned, and we sought more than we could comprehend. We saw what this universe was and we sought to preserve it, protect it, care for it. The universe became our child.
We would lead them into the future, many would join us, many would fail. We watched and we learned and then we stared into the abyss and thought we would never learn more than what we know. Ridiculous, we always did, so we sought more. We begun moulding the very galaxies to sate our mind.
We were no longer the beings we were, once we were humans, a proud and beautiful race, but we went forward and our past selves were nothing more than memories of our past as we advanced and first ditched what held us back; Our lands, our bodies, our minds into a singularity where each and everyone of us would become one another, we lived and we watched, we preserved, we protected and cared for.
Then we created. We created a new world, a new species, all in image of ourselves and bestowed our name on them and we watched. From dust they rose and climbed the ladder of survival, at first they conquered their homes, fend off the predators and secured habitable camps; Those were their ancestors...
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[ TT ] For as long as you can remember , you 've been able to talk to the people in paintings and pictures . One day , upon entering an art museum , you find a painting that begs you for help .
| `` Help us, please!''
Arthur stared at the painting of a woman that hung on the wall. It was a modest painting from the renaissance, or so the curators had said. He found that more than a few paintings had quite different history's than what experts claim them to be.
How did he know this?
He usually just asked them.
Some paintings were work of counterfeit artists. Some were little more than a hobby created by someone unknown but still found a place in a museum due to some circumstances. There are as many stories behind them as the imagination they inspire in people.
He had also actually found that some discarded paintings had even been works of masters. He would never forget finding that portrait of an old gentleman that had been hung in the toiled in London. The art world would scream at the thought if they knew.
This was something Arthur had known to be unique to only himself. He kind of figured after no one could hear them talk like he did. Thank goodness the people around him had did n't take it literally when he said that the paintings spoke to him.
Yet...
After talking to countless paintings, never once had they had asked for help like this. Never once had they had a look of desperation and fear in their faces.
`` Please save us!'' cried the woman in the painting. Her tears stained her cheeks.
`` Save you?'' Arthur asked curiously. `` Save you from what? You do realize your a painting, right?''
The people in the paintings always acted the same way when he asked them what it was like being a painting. It was like asking a human what it was like being a human. They just knew what they were and what their life was.
Of course like people, each person in a painting had their own types of personalities or attitudes.
It was first that someone in a painting had asked him to be saved though.
`` It's coming for us!''
Arthur tried to calm the woman down. He did it in hushed tones, looking left and right, making sure no one was looking at his direction currently. The museum was sparsely populated at this time of day, but there were still a few patrons roaming around other than himself.
`` What's coming for you?'' he asked.
`` The darkness...''
`` The what?''
Suddenly, a scream came from somewhere down the exhibit hallways, furthest back from where he was. He looked around, but none of the other patrons seemed to have heard it. They continued with their perusing of paintings with no care. The people in the paintings on the other hand...
They were shivering in fright, hunching down low in their frames, moving towards the very edges of their world away from the direction of the scream. They were frightened.
So very frightened.
This fact sent a chill down Arthur's back like never before. A coldness that seemed to stab at his heart ever so deeply. It made him want to bolt out of there.
`` Please...''
The woman's begging from behind him stayed his nerves. He was n't a brave lad, but he would damn himself for leaving a damsel in distress. Painting or not.
Taking a deep breath, he said, `` I'll see what I can do.''
He resolved himself and walked towards where the scream came.
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[ WP ] You begin to awaken very early . Unless you stay awake and intensely exercise for over 5 hours , you have terrifying dreams .
| At first it was interesting...
Then it was a curse...
Then it was a blessing in disguise...
Then it was a curse...
Then it was my savior...
Okay, I guess I'll just tell the whole story.
I'm not what you would call an overachiever; I'm also not what you would call an achiever. I'm what you would call, especially if you were my parents, a burnout.
It's sad really actually, I had always been so gifted as a youngster. I remember being taken out of my second grade class during math time to get special lessons from some counselor lady and how my proud my parents had been when I told them. I was the best reader in the'blue' reading group, where blue translates roughly to'badass reading maverick'.
On top of all my academic success I was really well liked by my peers. I'm pretty sure I had been invited to every single kid β s birthday party who was my age and was always bringing the funnies.
Everything changed when middle school started. On top of being a late bloomer, I had been molested when I was in kindergarten so when I finally did hit puberty the seeds the devil had planted really started to grow into an ugly cactus that soaked all the nutrients from my soulβ¦ But yeah shit happens I β m not trying to get all emo about it. Anyway yeah, middle school sucked. I had went from the cool talented kid everyone liked to the β why the fuck are you so quiet and weird kid β that people tried to avoid, unless you were my old best friend then you would always be looking for me in order to torment meβ¦ oh yeah and my parents were one of those stay together for the kids type of couples and blahβ¦ okay I β m done with my sob story.
Anyway, fast forward 11 years and I β m twenty four with no friends, no job and no goals living in my now divorced mom β s basement. I had finally decided it was time to salvage what I could from my life and make something of myself and decided the first step was to stop waking up at noon and begin exercising. I made it my goal to maintain a schedule where I wake up at five in the morning and run a few miles; It was to be my first of what was hopefully one of many baby steps to rebuilding a proper existence.
It was harder than I thought. Eventually I lowered my goal as to just wake up at five in the morning since that seemed to be challenging enough. After a few months, I finally got my schedule aligned with my plan and decided to up the ante and start doing a little of that running stuff.
It was amazing, I had no idea that such a little change would have such a major impact on my general wellbeing. I was in a better mood, getting fit and even not being so damn neurotic in social situations. One night I even called up an old acquaintance-friend from high school and asked if he wanted to go to the bars of something. From his inability to talk on the phone, it seemed he was in succumbing to a similar lifestyle as I had been. Anyway, we went to the bars and we talked about video games, TV shows and other typical loser stuff; but that β s not the point of this paragraph. The point is that we were out till midnight, and when my alarm went off at five in the morning I felt that I had earned a well-deserved day off so I told my alarm clock to fuck itselfβ¦.
That night I had a wet dream where I raped a dogβ¦ Like semen came out of my dickβ¦.
I β m not a weird mother fucker like that, I promise. I feel like there is a paranoia out there that there are more sexual perv β s than we would like to admit solely evidenced by the vast amount of weird fetish porn on the netβ¦ but I β m being honest when I tell you I β m not one of those guys, my porn is solely the classic man and lady bang-bang-athon. Still, I had that dream, so what the fuck.
Anyway, through experienced I eventually realized that whenever I slept past 5 AM or woke up and went back to bed I β d have a fucked up sexual nightmareβ¦ I β ll leave out the details but it only went downhill from the dog thingβ¦
So, this stuff was all sort of interesting in a way as I had been a pursuer of the β psychedelic arts β so to speak as a lonely highschooler and eventually pegged the phenomenon down as my subconscious punishing me for not following my highest calling; or at least slightly higher than being a complete burning calling.
So I woke up at five in the morning and ran, and when I did this successfully for extended periods of time life really started to make sense.
But for some reason, I slipped once in awhile, and whenever I did I fell into this weird β the universe is trying to kill me mindset. β Overtime however, I grew more consistent in my ability to follow through and avoid the nightmares that seemed to be pushing me in the direction I wanted to go. I felt blessed.
Then it started intensifying, like as I ran more I got better at running ( duh ), and if I didn β t run long enough then the nightmares would come the following night; it was an extremely scary position to be in to be completely honest, I felt like I was talking a tightrope everyday, a tight rope where I would fall onto the devils cock if I slipped. At one point, after having been waking up and running for a good hour plus every morning for two months, I fucked up and surrendered to the nightmares for a whole week straight, after which I began taking anti-depressant medication.
The meds made the nightmares stop even if I didn β t wake up properly; and for another week I slept in and went about my empty days just as I had before all this had started, except I wasn β t depressed anymore because of my med β s. It was a haunted yet bearable existence. I justified myself saying I was going to feel haunted either way, might as well do this one because it was, well, easier.
But it got worse. I felt likeβ¦ well here β s a poem I wrote the last day while I was on my medication..
*Here I am, a boy with nothing.
My object of security is slowing losing it β s stuffing.
Nowhere else to go, the devil knows I β m bluffing.
Somebody help me, I feel so disgusting. *
So yeah, I crawled out of that hole and got back on my routineβ¦ I started from the bottomβ¦ I β ve been doing that for the past three years now and my subconscious is continuing demanding more and more of me. I β m at the point now where I wake up 5, run till 7, do yoga until 8, lift weights until 9:30 and cool down with a swim until 10.
And my life is getting better every day.
/r/PsychoWritingPrompts
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[ WP ] Across from you sits your ideal self . A door leads outside to the rest of your life . Only one may leave .
| Here is the window: a square, bound in painted wood, draped with the little yellow curtains you find in every grandmother's kitchen. The curtains are pulled back and outside is a kaleidoscope of times, places, events. It's easy to get lost in the motion, to find yourself sucked into a single moment, watching it play over and over again.
I'm watching my children play in the yard. The grass is green and I can hear their laughter dimly through the thin wall.
Beside me, a tall man puts his hand on my shoulder. He's watching, too. His eyes, same as mine, show the longing, the gravitational pull of love.
`` They need you,'' I say. They need someone clear, someone without a temper, someone who can handle all the everyday things. Someone who can give them everything I feel that they deserve.
`` But you need them,'' he says, and inside I feel something break. It took everything I had to steel myself for this, to accept that I would n't be the one going through that door. But now he's offering me a chance...
I look up into his face ( of course he's taller, I always wanted to be taller ), and myself staring back at me with nothing but understanding and compassion. As if to answer the unspoken question, he nods, and steps backward.
I ca n't help myself. I mumble a `` thank-you'' and dart towards the door. It opens and I hear my children laughing, playing in the sun. I run to join them.
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[ WP ] Write a story where the main character falls in love with the reader
| The bombshells blast the ground every few seconds, but Alice keeps running. She can hear the men crying out orders and warnings, but she just keeps on going forward. After passing two churches and a lowly inn, she see an alcove between buildings and dives into its darkness. Bombs do not fear shadows, she knows, but at least she might have some cover.
She still feels you watching her, and she hopes she seems brave. She tries to steady her hands, straighten her back though she's hunched at the waist in hiding. Did you see what she said to that soldier? She wonders. Did you understand that she tried?
There had been so little time to think of what to say. Alice had simply heard the blast and some screams. She did n't even hear Danny's voice above the din, though she knew it was there just as she knew his silence once things settled. She just started screaming at Danny's troopmate to leave. She tried to sound as mean as she could, hoping it would save him from trying to save her. It worked and he ran.
That was n't the first time she sensed you there, but it was the strongest. She could see you in her mind's eye, clutching your page for a moment as you caught your breath.
Such a boy, she thinks now as she pictures the soldier's scrawny limbs skittering back to the fray. All of them boys, like our little Danny. You're a boy too, she suddenly realizes. You're scared like them, wherever you are. You're counting on a happy ending to distract you from the explosions in your head.
Alice looks up at the sky, trying to see you though she knows you are no god. She knows there is no heaven for you, but that you exist between the lines of her life and honestly she prefers it that way. For a quiet moment, you are two tales intertwined β your life, her narrative β and she knows that however this story ends, it is yours to remember.
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[ WP ] Aliens start mining the moon . They ignore all attempts for contact , fend off human aggression . Man spectates powerless .
| President Pitzer, Mr. Vice President, Governor, Congressman Thomas, Senator
Wiley, and Congressman Miller, Mr. Webb, Mr. Bell, scientists, distinguished
guests, and ladies and gentlemen:
I appreciate your president having made me an honorary visiting professor, and
I will assure you that my first lecture will be very brief. Under other circumstances
I would be delighted to be here.
No man can fully grasp how far and how fast we have come, but as I'm sure many
of you have no doubt guessed, I have not come here to talk about men. Of fifty
thousand years of man's history, we know very little except of the last two
thousand. If you had told a man of three millenia ago of telephones and
automobiles an airplanes, he would look at you as we looked at the heavens not
three years ago.
William Bradford, speaking in 1630 of the founding of Plymouth Bay Colony, said
that all great and honorable actions are accompanied with great difficulties,
and both must be enterprised and overcome with answerable courage.
It's of this courage that I am speaking to you tonight. When the Soviet Union
launched it's Luna satellite, it showed us the first images of the far side of
the moon. And what it showed shocked the people of every nation. Only this
April, our scientists launched the Ranger 4, with the aim of making peaceful
contact. As the eyes of our world looked into to space, to the moon and beyond,
these intelligences answered our efforts, not with open arms, but with missiles
more powerful than even our own.
When faced with a threat so imminent, some will run. But this globe of ours
grows smaller every day, as we explore it's highest mountains and our own satellites
watch from overhead.
We do not choose to run away.
We choose to go to the moon.
We choose to go to the moon, in this decade. Not in
the name of science, but in the name of freedom, as our freedom comes under
attack from beings that see us, as no more than creatures through a
microscope. We see these acts of transgression, as a threat to our ways of life,
and as a challenge we must undertake, one we are unwilling to postpone and
one which we intend to win.
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[ WP ] Everyone slowly begins to morph into their spirit animals . Everyone , that is , except yourself .
| It was time. We all took our places in the ritual circle underneath the starlit sky, while the old medicine lady chanted and sang in the middle. Each person eagerly awaited their transformation.
As the moon reached its apex, slowly, everyone began to change. Skin grew hairier, teeth grew sharper, eyes grew wilder. Everyone began changing into the spirit animals they saw in their visions.
Well, everyone except me, that is.
As my friends changed into wolves, eagles, bears, snakes, they all saw that I retained my human form. A few laughed at me and mocked for being stuck in this pitiful existence. Some pitied me for not being able to experience the new freedom and strength that came with a new form. Others looked at me with revulsion, and considered me unworthy and unclean. One by one, as each one completed the transformation, they slipped into the night.
The old lady shook her head at me and sighed, suggesting that perhaps I did n't pray hard enough. Her eyes were filled with frustration and pity. Yes, I'll try again next year; yes, I'll bring a better offering; yes, I'll pray more fervently; and all that stuff.
I ca n't say that I was too disappointed by my lack of transformation, though. I was n't exactly distressed.
I *am* a shapeshifter, after all.
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[ WP ] Character Development Exercise !
| John is a depressed wreck.
John hates the real world.
John hates the man who caused him to be paralyzed in both legs.
Reversal:
John is a cheerful success.
John loves the real world
John loves the man who caused him regain feeling in both of his legs.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
John loves his life, he loves everything in fact. Every day John leaps out of his bed. Frolicking through his lovely apartment, squishing his wife's face and giving her a lovely kiss on the lips. He leaps to the kitchen and makes eggs, toast and more toast. Then he's off to work! Doing what you ask? Lovely soccer! He's a pro do n't you know? an absolute king of playing soccer. Why he could kick that checkered ball from on end of the field ALL the way to the other, and get it past that pesky goalie and into the goal!
John focuses on all things rational and realistic in his life. Never will he lay his head against the window pane and peer off into la-la land. NEVER! ABSURD! John HATES dreaming. In fact dreaming is for losers! Anybody who dreams is doomed to never make more than five figures a year!
Most of all John is ecstatic about his ability to actually walk again! Prior to his current wonderful existence, John was all doom and gloom ( because his legs just did n't work ) in a car with his very best buddy, they drove through a concrete divider and crashed into the ocean. KILLING JOHN! He was brought back to life though, and he found out that HE COULD WALK! WOW!
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[ WP ] Only atheists may go to heaven
| My name is Dave, and I just did n't believe. I did n't really have a reason to believe or not believe. Then, one day, I stepped in front of a bus, and I woke up at the pearly gates. Everyone seemed so pissed off, some mumbling and others screaming. There must have been millions of people waiting outside, so many of them praying with unshakable faith. That's when I knew I was screwed. I'd chosen wrong and lived my life accordingly. I was reluctant to get in line, but someone waved me over. I thought I was going to hell for sure, but St. Peter opened the gates to the screams and derision of so many.
I went in and saw others like me, just hanging out. I asked what I was supposed to do. They collectively pointed me to a large building. It was obvious really. I kind of felt dumb in those first few minutes. I mean, really, what was I thinking. Well, I was thinking, what the hell am I doing here? People waved at me and shouted, but I kept going.
There had to be some trick or some mistake. I was brought before a council of men and women. I did n't know what to say, but they spoke first.
`` Welcome, do you have any questions?''
`` Umm, like a million.''
`` Well, we do n't have all millennium.''
`` Is this heaven?''
`` You bet your ass it is.''
`` Why was I accepted but all of those others were n't?''
`` You're an atheist. Only atheists are allowed entry into heaven.''
`` Why? It does n't matter how good of a person I was?''
`` Why? Almost no one asks why. Well, it's because you do n't believe in those other false gods like the rest of those idiots who keep praying to them. You did what you wanted with your life, not hiding behind some god or book or whatever.''
`` But they're good people. Some of them must be.''
`` I suppose they are, but they're also prudes who do n't like doing all of the weird sex stuff.''
`` Wait, what?''
`` It's not important right now. It's just a condition that you consented to when you entered here.''
`` What?''
`` Stop saying what?''
`` What?''
`` Say what again. We dare you.''
`` Uhhh, so uhh, wait, uhhh, no.''
`` At least you non-believers never mention those other false gods in the throws of passion.''
`` So, I'm a sex slave now? That sounds awful.''
`` And it's terrible.''
`` Oh Go-''
`` Do n't you dare! Do n't say his name, or you'll get to meet Lucy first hand. Trust us, we're sweethearts compared to her.''
`` So, what exactly is this place?''
`` Come on, Dave, it's an interdimensional SBDM resort to service all sorts of beings. You'll be freed eventually.''
The being throws a ball gag at his feet.
`` Put this on for now, Dave. We do n't want you blurting out that name again.''
I turn away from them and smile. This is definitely my idea of heaven.
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[ WP ] A very serious story about a very silly thing . Surprise me
| She had to escape.
She had to run, to hide, to get away, far away, to flee.
Her pursuer, he would show no mercy. She had to get away from him. If she did n't, she would surely die. And from what she had seen that... that monster do... he would make it long and make it hurt.
She had one goal on her mind: survival.
She took a deep breath and ran harder. Why the hell did n't she pick out her running shoes this morning? Why the flip-flops?! Because they matched her toe polish?! How could she be so stupid? She could n't run nearly as fast with her flip-flops on.
She could hear him, the evil one, behind her.
`` I'm gon na *get* you!''
He sounded closer. How?! She dared to glance over
Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God...
He was getting closer and closer.
What was she going to do? She had to run away. She had to --
The grass was damp with mist, and then she tripped and fell.
He was upon her, the madman, the monster.
She tried to get up but he forced her back down. He sat on her legs; she tried to kick herself free, but he had her pinned down, pressing her into the grass.
`` Please,'' she gasped. `` Do n't. Let me up. Let me go.''
The evil one's hand was like a claw. And then he struck. First, under her arm. Then at her ribs. Then her stomach. Like a spider.
She squirmed and bit her cheek to keep from giving in. She had to survive. She had a resolve like iron. It would be a dam against this flood.
The evil, smelly jerk reached down and yanked off her flip-flop, tossing it away. The claw danced along her foot. The dam broke and she burst out laughing. And then it was all over for her...
******
And that is the story of how a fourteen year old boy tickled the daylights out of his twelve year old sister.
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[ WP ] Today is your 111th Birthday , you have served The Church for many years and desire to pass away . The only problem however , is that you are a Vampire . A Christian Vampire .
| We kept time by the wheel. In olden times the sunlight had been allowed in - but no longer. The Church had existed for millennia now, founded upon this very rock. Saint Peter, aye, he had been the first, the first to die in the name of Christ, and he had died right here, crucified for his beliefs. Since that time, four thousand years hence, countless others had followed him, the believers in'Christ' - Christians. The Church had endured, twisting and turning its way through the books of history like a golden snake, always waiting for the right moment to raise its head above the ground and strike. The Atomic Wars had driven the Church low - but we were still here.
Today is my birthday. The Church neither forbade nor encouraged extravagant celebrations, but I nevertheless carried about me a sense that this birthday was special. The pathways - all of them worn and dusty - they all led to where the Pope was sitting, in the half-wreck of that massive basilica that still kept up its shape after all the years. So I went to see him.
`` Father,'' I said, getting to my knees before him. `` Father, I have a request to make of you.''
The old man, now in his hundred and seventy-sixth year of life, bade me rise. `` Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you. What is it, my son?''
`` Father,'' I whispered again, suddenly afraid about what was to happen. `` Father, today is my birthday, and I have served for eighty-nine of these years, and I have a request to make.''
`` Yes?'' His voice was no longer so sure, so confident. It was to be expected. When one strays away from Scripture and did not speak only of the Bible, it was natural to lose one's way.
`` Father - I wish to - I wish to-''
The words got stuck in my throat. I looked back down, suddenly unable to meet the Pope's steely blue eyes, but eventually I looked back up.
`` Father, I wish to die. I wish to meet my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.''
There was a moment of breathless silence as he stared at me, blue eyes now burning with a fresh fire.
`` Are you sure?'' he finally said. `` For many are called, but few are chosen - what makes you feel special?''
`` I have served His church-''
`` And so have I. I do not presume I will be saved though - that is a decision for the Lord alone to make.''
`` I am ready, Father,'' I said, a small note starting to creep in. `` Let me go - let me serve the Lord -''
The Pope held up his hand, still staring at me until I blubbered on into silence. Finally he stood up again, his joints audibly cracking, and I sensed his decision in the making.
`` Very well,'' he said. `` I will mark the wheel. In the year of our lord Four Thousand, Three Hundred and Thirty One, Julius 7, let it be known that this is my will.'' He made the sign of the cross, then sat back down, voice lower and more urgent. `` How are you going to do this?''
`` I'll go outside,'' I said, my voice quivering. `` It'll be quick, one second and -''
`` The outside world has not been radioactive since the time of Saint Quaser,'' the Pope replied. `` The fallout from the wars was significant, but it's negligible now - I can go out into the outside world without much harm. We do n't let the others know. The shock would be far, far too great, if they be allowed to gaze at the work the Lord have provided for us. But back to my point - the outside is not radioactive enough to kill you, so-''
`` Father,'' I said, getting back down on my knees. `` Father - I am a vampire.''
There was another moment of silence before he spoke again. `` So, if you go out, you will be struck by the sun, and you will...''
`` And I will die, yes,'' I replied. `` I will have atoned for my sins in that way. Ascending to heaven... I'll see you there, if we both make it.''
The Pope sat there, motionless, as I bowed, took one last rasping breath, and stepped away into the light.
-- -
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[ WP ] All the ruling monarchs of Europe get together and form a surprisingly good band . Review their latest album
| As most of our readers undoubtedly know by now, the highly anticipated album, `` Throne of Spades'', from the group Rex Regal is set to hit the shelves next week. Never heard any of their songs? Well thats no surprise, nobody has, except for the band members themselves and this lucky journalist.
Rex Regal has managed to draw an unprecedented amount of attention to their upcoming album, despite having never released anything prior to it. The reson for this is that the band members were already famous before coming together and forming Rex Regal; they are all members of various European royal families. Lets get down to what we're here for; this journalists verdict. Spoiler alert: It's actually pretty damn good.
Track 1. `` My majesty brings all the thralls to the yard''.
Despite being a shameless remix of Kelis' famous milkshake song, this tune hits you with the same energy as the originial with vocals fit for a queen to sing along to. Princess Victoria of Sweeden sings most of the verses, while Queen Elizabeth of England can occationally be heard singing along. When this journalist asked Princess Victoria if she was concerned with potential allegations of plagiarism she responded, quote:'' bitch, what is Kelis going to do? Im the a god-damn princess of Sweden and I ai n't afraid of her or her weak-ass milkshakes,'' unquote. Lead guitar by Prince Haakon of Norway and bass by Hans-Adam the 2nd, prince of Lichtenstein.
Track 2. `` Quit playing games with my human heart''
This song comes straight from the hearts of Prince William and Prince Harry of Britain. It is a ballad with sad undertones where the duo express their pain with respect to allegations that the entire British Royal family is in fact a bunch of shapeshifting space reptiles. I was surprised at the high notes Prince Harry is able to reach as he tells this sad story of distrust and isolation.
Track 3. `` Mothafucking k-i-n-g''
The strongest hip-hop contribution to the album comes in the form of Track 3 where King Gustav of Sweden `` spits flames hotter than lava on the run, son''. It is essentially a remake of the Snoop Doggs P-I-M-P, but in all honesty this reporter thinks Gustav XVI comes out as the doper rapper.
Track 4. `` Oh I just ca n't wait to be king''
Solo by Prince William of Britain. There are rumors of an animated Lion King-style music video for this track. It is aimed at a younger audience, possibly a stunt to increase his populatiry with future subjects. Refreshing lyrics, great keyboard action by Willem Alexander, king of the Netherlands.
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[ WP ] '' She was a pretty , sweet , and funny , but generally normal girl . At least that 's what I thought before the ninjas showed up ''
| `` You need to be careful with that one,'' said the chief ninja. He set a manilla folder on the desk in front of him and folded his hands. The encounter was already going differently than Steve had anticipated when the trio of black-clad warriors had first burst through the window. He put down the curtain rod and pulled out a chair across from the leader.
`` Who do you mean?'' Steve asked.
`` Cindy Horton. You were just speaking to her on the telephone, Steve.''
`` But how could you know...''
`` We are ninjas, Steve,'' he said with a curt gesture; `` we know everything.'' He tapped the folder in front of him. `` Sometimes we share what we know.''
`` What's this about Cindy, then?''
`` She is trouble, Steve. Trouble you do not need. I have the relevant documents here'' -- he gestured vaguely at the folder -- `` but let it suffice to say that your plan to ask her out to a movie tomorrow night should not be carried out.''
`` How --''
`` Ninjas, Steve.''
`` What do you mean, she's trouble? She's just a pretty, sweet, funny, normal girl.''
The chief ninja cleared his throat.
`` *Generally* normal,'' he said, darkly.
`` What do you mean?''
`` I have affidavits here from the last three men she has dated that all point to a pattern of emotional manipulation, a hair-trigger sense of self-importance, and'' -- he flipped through some pages -- `` a terrible taste in films.''
`` How... right, ninjas.'' Steve rubbed his eyes resignedly. `` Why are you telling me all of this?''
`` We do not choose to share every detail at this time,'' said the chief ninja. `` But I will say that we are motivated by a spirit of public improvement.''
Steve glanced at the other ninjas, who were examining his family photographs with an air of detached boredom.
`` What you say about Cindy does n't seem all that bad, though,'' said Steve. `` We all have our problems, and I'm not worried about the movie thing very much.''
The chief ninja sighed.
`` There is more, Steve.'' He opened the folder again. `` In the third grade she stole the class guinea pig to take home, and was subsequently so embarrassed that she'set it free' in the field behind her house. It was killed within minutes. In the sixth grade she was caught with a jar of nasal mucus that she had been collecting for years. She still has not gotten rid of the jar. Since February of 2010 there has been another jar, in which she collects her used tampons. We have photographs, if...''
Steve turned pale.
`` We also have transcripts of the conversations she has online under the name candygrrltrap6969. Would you like to see them?''
Steve shook his head. He stared downward at his hands.
`` No, that's... that's enough.''
The chief ninja returned the folder to his briefcase and flicked a piece of lint from his shozoku. His colleagues made their way to the broken window.
`` Then our business is concluded. If you have any further questions, here is my calling card.'' He withdrew a short length of silk rope from the briefcase, entwined around a single water-lily. Steve accepted it hesitantly.
`` What, uh --''
`` When you have need of it, Steve,'' said the chief ninja, `` you will know.''
The three black-clad public servants slipped silently through the window.
`` Thanks, ninjas!'' Shouted Steve as he raced to watch them go; `` I'll never forget you!'' He thought he caught the faintest hint of a wave as the last of them vanished across the roof of Mrs. Podeski's garage.
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[ WP ] A young woman finds a body while walking her dog
| Edit: OK here's a better version.
`` Rowf! Rowf!'' exclaimed Fido as he furiously wagged his Yorkie tail.
`` Hush!'' I shushed the anxious chesnut-colored pup as he strained against the leash. He stood a good three feet away, the leather strap taut as he strained on his hind legs to see.
The corpse was a man, possibly seventy years old. He had obviously been dead for a few days. The air had a medicinal smell, as if someone had taken the care to try to perfume the obviousness of death. Its face was crinkled into a strange expression; not quite a smile, and not quite a frown. A grimace perhaps, but that was not it either.
I took a step closer, and examined the body. It was wearing a well-tailored suit, expensive looking with a dark taupe blazer and an equally taupe bowtie against a dark shirt.
Fido barked again. I took yet another step closer, when suddenly I sensed the presence of another person just behind me...
`` Get that dog out of here!'' the funeral director snapped. `` It's not a service animal, and you ca n't bring pets in here!!''.
`` But it's raining outside!'' I stammered, only to discover Fido had done his business near the potted plant beside me, next to the coffin.
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[ WP ] pick the most adorable , innocent , harmless thing you can think of . Then , write a chronicle of its bloody rise to world domination .
| `` Tweet!''
A Cardinal jumped side to side while staring into his enemies eyes, *the squirrel*. That fucker had been stealing from the Cardinal's bird feeder for years, but the Cardinal could n't do anything until now. He had found something to combat the fucking squirrel. Some little plastic case which had been surrounded by dead ants. Obviously it was some kind of poison. So the Cardinal dumped the plastic container's contents into the bird feeder, and the squirrel happily, and unknowingly, forged himself on poison.
The squirrel's eyes went empty, then the little bastard fell off the tree branch to the ground, dead.
`` Jerry!'' Exclaimed the Squirrel's squirrel friend.
`` Jerry, speak to me!''
`` He's dead, Frank.'' Replied the Cardinal. `` This is why you do n't eat *my* goddamned food, *rodent scum*''
Frank quaked in terror and ran off to notify the other squirrels. The Cardinal was n't the victim anymore, the tables had turned.
Sara watched a little squirrel run around squeaking to their fellow squirrels while running around the tree. `` Is n't that so cute! They're playing!''
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[ WP ] looks like that wizard is summoning you again . He still has n't thanked you since last time .
| *Oh you've got to be kidding me... this schmuck again? *
Poof. Smoke, sparks, strange odors, the works.
`` Spirit! Hear my command!'' The man was waving his arms like it meant something. Glancing at the ground, I can see he messed up the containment circle again. Moron.
*You do n't call, you never write. I did n't even get a fruit basket for last time. *
`` Silence, spirit! You do as I command and pray that I do not punish you!''
He seriously thought that he could do something to me. This guy. The one who found a book in an old pawn shop, brought it back to his mother's basement, and thought he could just summon me up like it's nothing and get whatever he wants? This poor sap is so pathetic, but nobody summons me anymore, so what point is there in going home.
I sigh. *What do you want? Faster internet again? *
`` I command you to become a human for me to use for my pleasure! Heed my command, spirit!''
*Did you just-*
The temperature of the shoddy basement drops, reacting to my anger and making it clear that the containment circle is less than adequate.
*I have had it up to here with you. First you ask me to'poof' the mess of this hole in the ground away, do I get a thank you for that? Nope! And two weeks later it looks the same damned way! Then you ask me to give you the newest computer and a neverending supply of doritos and mountain dew, still no thank you. Demand after demand, and now you want someone to fuck? Are you kidding me? *
I snap my fingers, my power flooding through the gem used to summon me from the other realm. The energy swirled around him, defying gravity by picking his fat arse up off the floor. I'm heedless of his cries as I proceed to turn him into a lesser version of what I am, an entity called an imp. The containment circle I create is flawless, not that it needs to be.
I settle myself onto a conjured chair, stare at my new slave coldly and command, *Dance. *
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[ WP ] On the cusp of every major invention in human history , a figure appears to the inventor alone and shows them what their inventions have become in the future
| I pace back and forward, the humming banks of servers behind me running the final simulation. It had taken a while to get the new physics constants in, but I had done it. I had spent the last 4 years of my life working on a fusion core the size of a garbage can.
{ Simulation Valid: Launch ( y/n )? }
My finger hovers above the `` y'' key as a bright light and a breeze open up behind me.
Turning around, I see a tall man in a dark trenchcoat with goggles strapped close to his face, a dim amber glass in them, as lights blink on and off in the now dark basement.
`` Sorry about the mess, did n't mean to break your stacks of paper.''
In his hand is a small device with 3 interlocking rings.
`` You're a time traveler?''
`` Well, I sortof would hope so. Otherwise my boss would be really pissed.''
His sense of humor shocked me. Something so monumental in his hand and he treats it as childs play.
`` Why'd you come here? Did I do it?''
He pockets the device and rubs his neck awkwardly.
`` Well... You did, and did n't.''
I stare gasping at him, and then my work, and then back again.
`` Well, explain, NOW!''
He quickly procured another device from his pocket, and as his trench opened, stars twinkled on the inside, darker than the skies I had seen since I was a child. My mouth, once again hung agape.
`` Again, sorry. I said it was too flashy, but the boss insisted on the uniform.... Bla bla bla procedure and all that.''
He pulled a small ray-device from his pocket with a long billowing bundle of cables flying out of it. They snaked their way across the floor and connected directly to my server.
`` Oh do n't worry, it saved your work. Plus, it upgraded them. Neat trick, I know.''
My screen flickered and blinked until it procured a vision of a futuristic world that looked like my childhood dreams.
`` This is what your invention does to the world.''
`` Well, what are we waiting for! Let me turn it on!''
He shook his head, `` I was n't done...''
He pressed another button on the remote and the future changed.
`` This is ALSO what happens. ``
Confused, I heave my breath and put my hands on the counter.
`` So, which is it? Which future happens?''
`` Both of them, for now. It's Shrodinger's capybara, as my professor said.''
My mind was suddenly a million miles as I struggled to remember the laws of hyperposition and my high-school science teacher.
`` When an object has two states, but relies on observation to exist, especially in the quantum realm. Until observed, however, both exist simultaneously.''
I knew what I had to do.
`` Shut it off, I get it.''
`` So, what'll it be?''
`` This'' I said, smacking the pipe on the table into his head.
I grab the goggles, trenchcoat, time machine and invention.
An unknown future awaited, and it was *my* job to make it.
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[ WP ] You have a futuristic disability ( which is a side effect of constant teleportation due to your job as a traveling salesman ) that causes you to randomly teleport to a different location on earth . One day , it teleports you to-
| Momma always told me those FPeShD's would screw me up. She was right, though I do n't think she knew like this. The human body was n't built to handle going from Tahiti to Alaska in the matter of a few microseconds.
Yet here I was, standing in the middle of Denali base camp with nothing on save for a bathing suit and sunglasses, in the middle of a circle of mostly melted snow knee deep about ready to freeze my johnson off. I never knew when it would happen, or where I'd go, but sometimes it was good and sometimes it sucked.
There's some technobabble about the FPeShD, how it's some kind of perspective changer and it's really short-range time travel with locational control, but I do n't follow it and I do n't care. It gets me where I want and that's all that matters. What they did n't see is that, use it enough, it seems your body ca n't decide where to be.
I tried taking it off, disabling it. Did n't work. So I guess now I just got ta deal with it. Something about it works its way into your blood and you just go places. This is rarely a good thing. I remember appearing suddenly in some college frat boy's one-night stand. Got out of there quick, yeah, but *damn* that guy was kinky. Kind of scarred me.
Of course, then there was the time I stopped Nick from jumping off the Golden Gate bridge. I actually did n't know him before then. I was just walking down the driveway, then all of a sudden *FOOM* and I was laying on the sidewalk of the bridge next to this guy who was holding his head like a guy just clocked him hard as he could. Turns out, he was just thinking about taking the plunge and I stopped that train of thought dead. I would n't have made it out of some interesting positions if it were n't for him. It's nice to know I did some good.
Still, I think frostbite's starting to set in. I trudged across camp, trying to find somewhere that looks like it's producing heat. There's a shack up there that looks good.
I open the door and fifty climbers all turn their heads to see the one dude who's wearing a bathing suit in Alaska. What a sight. I just give a nod and pull up a seat next to the boiler. The other fur-clad people nursing hot coffee nudged to the side to give me room.
God, I hope I have cell reception here. Thankfully, I do. I punch in a number that by now I've memorized and hold the phone to my ear. It picks up on the third ring.
`` Mark?''
`` Hey Nick, what's going on? I got a bit of a problem here, I'm in Alaska.''
`` How-oh, right.'' He was still in Tahiti. `` So I guess you're not coming to the staff meeting tomorrow?''
I laugh a little. `` I'll be lucky to get back before the hotel reservation runs out. Just let them know what's going on, I do n't think Matt got his phone working again.''
`` No problem, man. Take care of yourself.''
`` You have a good one.'' I put the phone down, looked in the boiler, and thought about how I could get to Anchorage from here.
After some brain exercise, I turned to the room.
`` Hey, anyone in here got a spare coat I could borrow?''
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[ WP ] Write a scene/episode/arc from your favorite TV show
| `` Atlantis is on earth carter, do you know the kind of fit the IOA is throwing over where it should stay and who has authority of it.'' Said General Jack O'Neill as he walked though the crystalline halls of the Ancient city ship.'
`` What about the plan to put the city on the moon or take it back to Antarctica. Thanks to the treaties no one can claim either place as sovereign land, and it would be away from prying eyes.'' Said Sam walking up the stairs in the gate room beside her long time friend and commanding officer.
`` Some of the smaller members liked the idea, France and japan were definitely for it but china keeps pushing for it to be in the pacific. `` said jack coming to stand in front of what looked like a solid wall. suddenly cracks appeared in the wall as it slid apart revealing a conference room on the other side. With a smirk O'Neill walked through followed by Sam who rolled her eyes at how big a kid Jack could be when it came to using ancient tech with his mind.
The two were not alone in the room for long before they could here the people they were here to meet coming down the hall. Rounding the corner Cornell John Sheppard stepped into the room his dark hair standing up in an eternal cowlick as he argued with chief scientist Rodney McKay over which x-man would be the best member to join the justice league.
Behind the two came the final members of the Atlantis gate team. Sam could see that Teyla was staying slightly closer to John than she normally did, as if she was wanting to make sure that John could n't get away from her and get into any more trouble. Standing beside the short athosian woman was the huge form of Ronon Dex, his blaster and knives stuck to his waist even though he was in the safest city on earth.
`` Cornell Sheppard, Dr. McKay, Ambassador Emmagen'' its great to see you all here in one piece. said O'Neill standing up to shake their hands. `` And Ronon its nice to finally meet you Tealc and Carter both had good things to say.'' Ronon just grunted his acknowledgement and took a seat at the table close to the door.
General O'Neill looked around the room watching as everyone talked among their selves as they waited for the final member of their little party to arrive. As he let his eyes wander around the table they settled on Cornell Sheppard and Teyla, though the two tried to hide it he could n't help but notice how the two kept sneaking small peeks at each other and how their body's kept brushing up against each other as they moved. He could n't help but chuckle and wonder if he and Carter were that obvious when they had started dating.
Broken out of his musing he heard felt more than heard the sound of someone opening the rear door to the conference room.
`` I'm sorry to keep you waiting generals but i just got off the phone with the IOA and the president, we have a major development.'' said Richard Wolesly quickly entering the room.
`` What happened?'' asked Carter as Wosely walked around the table and sat down at teh opposite end as General O'neill.
`` It appears that word has gotten out about the battle, apparently parking an entire city in orbit and blowing up a superhive with a nuke is pretty easy to see though a telescope.'' he said loosening the tie around his neck, at the moment he was cursing the hot, restrictive suits he always wore.
`` Well that caint be so bad we can just write them off as people who had a little much to drink and dreamed up the whole thing after watching star wars.'' Said jack remembering the dreams he had after Tealc forced him to marathon the whole series in one day.
`` Its not that easy Jack, some of the people recorded it on video and then up loaded it, the videos are all over youtube.'' he said.
`` Crap and i was just getting ready to retire and go fishing. So what does the President want to do?'' jack asked a little annoyed that the leader of home world command was getting this information second hand.
`` The president along with other world leaders want to reveal the stargate program along with speeding up the Ascension Project.''
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[ WP ] Ghosts haunt their place of death . Your school is on a battlefield .
| Dear Fresh Meat ( aka future twinkie )
For some reason or another, it's landed on me to warn you of our high school, and what the teachers and principle refer to as `` Our delicate situation''.
I'll be blunt: the school is haunted.
Apparently, it was built on the unfortunate battlefield of `` too long ago that I ca n't even remember'' waaaaay back. Let's say 200 years ago.
Yes there are ghosts. They're not `` cool'' they're not `` creepy''. They're just a bunch of pale incorporeal dudes wearing dated uniforms, running through the halls, sometimes wailing war cries.
On the plus side, history is now everyone's favourite class. Somehow, real `` live'' ghosts make everything more authentic.
I'll admit, it's pretty cool to walk into class only to see a `` re-enactment'' of the war of 1812. It's no use telling the Americans that they lost that particular battle over two hundred years ago. Their soldiers will simply look at you and shrug it off in an `` Obviously I'm still here, therefore I fight.'' attitude.
But that's only once in a while.
They're still fighting to win, if you can believe it. They've just tweaked how they keep score now. It's pretty evident that there's no point in shooting at each other, they're already dead. They ca n't die anymore. No, instead, they prank us. The living.
Heck, I do n't blame them really. I can barely suffer through an hour of physics, let alone my entire after-life.
But do they really, seriously, have to shoot spit-balls at the back of my head all class? Or tie my shoes together as I'm taking my daily snooze? Or switching my hand sanitizer with glue???? Do n't even get me started on taking tests! That's when they decide to start up their firing squad!
If I were to give one piece of advice to you: never, if you know what's good for you, react to their antics. That gives them a `` point''. If you do, they'll never stop, until you graduate.
What the blazes were you thinking when you chose this school? And I do n't care the slightest if you think I'm a lunatic. We all are by the time we leave this place, just face it: you're next.
That being said, good luck next year. You'll need it.
Signed,
Thank-God-I'm-finally-free
P.S. Exorcisms do n't work. Trust me, we've all tried.
P.S.S. Salt, iron, holy water, burning sage and witch hazel are also useless.
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[ WP ] On a distant human colony on an alien planet everyone lives in one city , you and your crew are tasked to be the first to explore beyond the walls of the city .
| We sealed ourselves in this dome. A large and mighty dome it was, capable of dwarfing even the massive, sky-high creatures of this planet.
Entrenched solidly within the hard earth, our little sphere was self-contained. Geothermal power fuels our city, built by our founding fathers: a team of fleeing engineers, who found themselves unable to control this planet, with it filled with monstrously-sized creatures.
Just in case depth was not enough to seal the massive inhabitants of this planet away, we built a great dome, with a wall as thick as a skyscraper, around this habitat. The only entrance was the grand gate, situated on one side of the dome.
I guess I got a little bored, so I ventured out alone. Some would say'My crew and I were assigned to explore beyond this massive dome' as an excuse to go out, but honestly, I do n't care for a crew.
-- -- -
As I exited the long, tall, and generally spacious tunnel leading outside, I have noticed two things:
First, the end of this tunnel lead to nothing but a sharp drop.
Second, the drop likely leads to an extinct volcano, where I presumed our forefathers dumped their entire load of excavated dirt out.
As I sat there, and enjoyed the view, I was yanked up sharply.
-- -- -
My blurry eyes met with the many, many eyes of the ridged head of a massive, chitin-plated creature.
As she refocused her eyes to get a clearer look at me, she started talking.
`` You look like one of those tiny people in the Sol Conglomerate. What are you doing here?'' she asked inquisitively.
`` Y... you talk?'' I asked.
`` Of course I talk. Despite the fact that my species might be magnitudes larger than most sapient beings in the Galactic Union, we are still capable of communication using a registered, and thus translatable Federation language.''
`` Interesting. The last time my people was outside the dome, this was still a newly-discovered planet!''
`` Can you elaborate on said dome?''
`` It was a hidden structure designed to serve as a bunker against the massive natives of this planet, such as you.''
`` Interesting.''
With that, she wrapped me in the sticky, sticky web she used to pull me up, and carried me gingerly to places unknown.
Well, as gingerly as something as massive as her could be.
-- -- -
When my view finally stabilised from the heaving motion of the unusually eloquent native, I saw a massive room, large enough to fit even her within.
`` Hello there,'' said the native. `` Could you kindly introduce yourself?''
`` I'm Krindela. Who are you?'' I answered.
`` My name is Hiawelhedern. I'm an Iquenre. I'm going to get some water to wash those webs off,'' she replied.
Hiawelhedern started walking away, presumably to get some water. With each stride, I could see more and more of her massive form.
First, the tip of her spire-like legs appeared, each bending all the way behind her and then bending towards the ground.
Then, I saw her torso, wrapped in a massive dress which bears all the hallmarks of a Ilised product, albeit scaled to her colossal size.
One would wonder how many Ilised seamstress perched upon her body, measuring, draping, and sewing the cloth, presumably all right on her frame.
Or perhaps they got over their fear of artificial intelligence, and started using drones to measure her whole body.
-- -- -
This sticky, sticky silken cocoon was all sticky, and nasty, and it felt very nice to have the webs fall apart the moment it touched water.
Around me were strands of Hiawelhedern's silk, each strand thicker than my arm.
With my newfound freedom, I took the time to explore the table I was set on.
It was classy and nice. There was a vase, as well as two glass plates set on the table. One plate contained the water she soaked me in, the other contained sweets the size of boulders.
The vase towered above me, and I was not really capable of examining the flowers properly.
The room around me was filled with glass furniture, and the walls were draped with massive posters depicting many Federation stars. Each and every poster were large enough that it would take a very long time for any of these figures depicted to climb the poster from bottom to top.
I presume Hiawelhedern really admires those stars, and would leap at the opportunity to meet one, despite the fact that most of them would be small enough to stand on her finger.
-- -- -
`` Krindela, may I ask you a question?'' asked Hiawelhedern
`` Certainly,'' I answered.
`` If you ever decide to explore my body, and, for some reason, you could not reach an area, could you please tell me instead of attaching painful, hard-to-get-rid objects to my body?''
`` I do n't see why not.''
`` Thank you.''
-- -- -
To be continued
|
[ WP ] `` Theirs a universe inside of you ''
| `` I have a universe inside of me, sweet''
of course this brat was the who had a universe inside, piece of shit kid.
`` yes, there is a universe inside of you. Congratulations, want a cookie?''
of course the sarcasm was lost on him. Just kept on peering into the autoscope, exploring the vast emptiness, with the occasional concentration of matter, with the occasional self-replicating entity.
`` hey look at these funny looking things. Little shits made of soft pink meat. Walking around like some hotshot biped sophonts. Acting like they run my universe''
His universe? Not that I care, but I like to see him throw his tantrums. They tend to to be hilarious due to the ill-suited age of the tantrumee.
`` Your universe? You're mistaken. There's a universe inside of you, but its theirs''.
`` what do you mean, its in me and its therefore mine'' he spat. Yup, dis gon be good
`` well, we might say Zerti is our planet. Likewise, that is their planet and their universe that is there in your overinflated gut''
`` I do n't care, its in me and its therefore mine'' just a bit more
`` really now? Sure they are tiny, but unlike you, they can interact with their universe. You ca n't do shit with their universe unless you want to get a scalpel and stab yourself just to show them who's boss''
`` ITS IN MY BODY, THEY ARE IN MY BODY, AND THIS IS MY UNIVERSE! THOSE SHITS SHOULD BE WORSHIPING ME AND ME ALONE. BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH....''. Yup, there he goes jiggling his morbid face bulging his three eyes. Sure I am babysitting a little shit, but this spectacle is worth it.
`` Theirs a universe inside of you'' I mutter silently as this brat goes off
|
[ WP ] Every person has a label on them displaying the last adjective someone used to describe them , this can make first-impressions very stressful .
| Every morning began like this. Carly spent long minutes staring at herself in the bathroom, critiquing her outfit, toying with her make-up, and of course, obscuring the brazen label that her mother left on her each morning.
Everyone was labelled. Defined by whatever descriptor was last used to describe them. Because how else would people know what to think of you, if you did n't come emblazoned with a review from a previous encounter?
So every morning before she left for work, Carly's Mom made sure to refresh her label with a new adjective. Each day it was a variation of the same theme, words that her mother said were meant as encouragements. Today it read FATASS across her collarbone, written in thick red ink.
Carly adjusted her sign so that it hung just over her label. It was her best kept secret from her mother, what she claimed was a fashion statement to the other kids at school. Her sign read LABELS ARE LIES, and it worked to hide what her mother thought of her. At least until one of her friends bestowed her with a better adjective.
Carly headed off to school, wearing her punk sneer at anyone who raised a brow at her sign. By the time she'd taken a bus and a train and walked over about a mile to school, she'd received more stares and heard more muttering than she cared for. She could feel the label changing with each hushed whisper as people pointed her out to their friends, found their own adjectives for her so they did n't have to assume what laid under her sign.
`` Wearing a sign like that... you know she's got something to hide.''
Carly never checked to see what adjectives appeared on her label, though it was usually all she could think about. Instead she simply checked to make sure her pants were pulled up and her shirt had n't crept into any fat folds before she headed to school.
|
[ WP ] You 've been executed for a crime you did n't commit . Instead of waking up in heaven or hell ... you wake up in a new Buggatti .
| Wadsworth Prison, Execution Grounds
`` Wade Wilson,'' A man in gray uniform with the badge of Wadsworth Prison pinned to his shirt says, `` You have been charged with the murder of 16 innocent people. You will be executed via firing squad. What are you last words?''
Wade shifted his head up, facing toward the guard. `` When we're through here, I wan na be in a Buggati with Tony Hawk tied up in the trunk.''
The guard raised an eyebrow. `` A *Buggati*?''
`` Yeah,'' Wilson replied with a slight grin.
`` And why Tony Hawk tied up in the trunk?''
`` Does it really matter? Either get on with this or let me go.''
The man sighed, and returned to his post. He pivoted, and made a gesture to the firing squad. They begin to unholster their rifles from their shoulders, and assume a prepare stance.
`` Rifle squad, ready!'' the man shouted.
`` Aim!''
`` Fire!''
*CRACK! * *CRACK*!
Bullet after bullet become in lodged into Wade's body, now bleeding from his wounds, his body motionless as it falls to the ground.
The men watch him, waiting. He's bound to get up again.
But he does n't.
`` Take his body and toss it into the dump and we'll be done here,'' The guard finally says. `` And clean up all that blood, too.''
It takes a few hours, but Wade regenerates in his new Buggati.
`` Oh man, what a mess that was,'' He says, laughing. `` Oh!''
He hops out and opens the trunk.
`` You know,'' he shakes his head. `` I'm not really into children, but I'm pretty sure I asked for Tony Hawk, not Tony Hawk's *daughter*. Ehh, I guess it's a way of saying'fuck you for doing all that', even though I really did n't.''
He closes the trunk and returns to the driver's seat. He cruises down the road when he comes upon a food court. He counts how many people in the area.
16.
The number he was supposedly executed for.
`` Hey Reddit, wan na watch me do a thing?'' Wilson says, pulling an SMG from the glovebox.
|
[ WP ] You 're a gingerbread man , who has just tasted your own own flesh . You 're now fighting off the temptation to eat yourself .
| They say the only certainty in life is death.
That, my friends, is most definitely true. I knew my time was almost up. In fact, my sole purpose was to die β to shuffle off this mortal coil for the enjoyment of others.
Like a confectionary Gladiator.
But not like this. Not like this.
I was waiting to be chosen. Waiting for the cold, steely grip of the β Tongs of Doom β to pluck me from the safety of the others and send me to my inevitable fate. Oblivion at the hands of a small child maybe, or a fat woman - unsuitably clad in leggings which showcase the horrific cellulite gorges in her elephantine thighs. I was prepared for these scenarios, I had been prepared for them since I was raised. But what happened next, nobody could have planned.
I was twiddling my Smarties button. Hell, that β s all I was able to twiddle β although the name β Man β has always been bandied around to describe me, my β birthing β process left me ever-so-slightly β gender unspecific β. Not even a phallus made from the left over icing that had once piped my now worn out smile. Hours of twiddling had left me bored and spiritless. Then it happened. I could feel a yawn starting to stretch out my iced-mouth, I didn β t want the others to sense my total disinterest in waiting to die so I politely put my hands to my mouth to disguise the gape. The pungent aroma of exotic spice, the sharp cinnamon burst, the tantalising tang of treacle. β This is what I taste like?? β I couldn β t resist, I had a nibble. This was delectable. No, I was delectable. No wonder Fatty McGorge-Thighs has so many chasms rippling through her leggings if this was what we all tasted like. A nibble turned into a bite. The pain was countered by the heavenly taste washing over my palate. Like a culinary BDSM, I almost needed a safe word.
This was not my purpose however. I needed to fight the urge. I wasn β t here to self-destruct, it wasn β t my right to end it like this. I had always known it was the right of the paying, blood thirsty public to signal β thumbs down β as I went not-so-gentle into that good night. But I didn β t need legs to die. Oscar Pistorius didn β t need legs to pump his Mrs full of lead, and Heather Mills didn β t need legs to be pumped by a Beatle so I sure as shit didn β t β t need them to die.
I chomped down at the ankle. The agony was as unbearable as the taste was magnificent. The knees were next, followed by the thighs. β Maybe they could bake me a Gingerbread wheelchair β I thought as I gobbled up what was essentially my femur. What would most people β s thought process be at this juncture?? Stop, maybe?? Mine - well, if I didn β t need legs, what did I need arms for?? The pain was by now a distant memory, I was consumed by the want and need to devour my biscuity body. Wrists, then forearms, elbows, all the way up to the shoulders. I couldn β t fight the cannibalistic urge. Before I knew it, my body was gone β Smarties buttons and all.
It was only the fact that I had eaten my own stomach that made me stop. I wish I hadn β t. I was left an outcast from the Gingerbread community with only a head and the painful, yet delicious memories of the day a single Gingerbread β Man β took his life into his own hands. And promptly ate them.
|
[ WP ] You are the companion of the hero on a quest . The Hero has special/magic powers but you do n't believe in magic . Tell me about your quest and how you rationalize what they accomplish using their powers .
| `` You know the great hero of Vashish, of course you do... they say he killed the mighty dragon Seferth with magic. I was there and it was no magic but dumb luck and a bit of physics, I know, I was there'' stirring the glass Olof kept looking at the piece of ice floating in it, dissolving into the water. `` So, where was I... yes, magic'' *pfft* `` he shouted, caused the cliff side to shake and then a rock slide to occur'' Olof waves his hand in front of the onlookers **BANG** he slapped his hands together `` and the dragon was dead''
`` You know the slayer of Seferth, defender of Akapolis, of course you do..says he spoke fire and turned the walls impeachable, magic they whisper'' *pfft* `` I was there'' Olof beat the bar disk in tact to the words that he spat out `` I.WAS. **THERE**'' He looked down into the mixture of alcohol that danced and floated in his glass. `` You know what happens if you in your speech say'Let's pour one on the wall for our fallen in arms' after having defended the city for seven days and seven nights'' Olof waved his arm around the room `` an awful amount of alcohol goes to waste'' he laughed at this. `` Then you just say a few fancy words like'' Olof paused for a while while thinking about what had been said. `` Let the beating of our shields send fear into the hearts of lesser men'' Olof looked around the room... `` and we all know what you get when you clash metal with metal''...'' No, not dents you dense goat herder''
`` Yeah, Sparks! and then *woosh* **FIRE**''
`` You know the slayer of Seferth, defender of Akapolis, hero of Vashish and lord of the serpanth sea... Of course you do, every one do... everyone knows all about him'' The man coughed into his tattered robes and stared at the people walking past. `` You know all about him from your myths and legends. All except his name... I know because I was him'' The man stared at the sun now coloured green trough his wine bottle.
|
[ WP ] The Devil tries to sell his soul to you , desperately .
| When I died, I was sent to this realm between the Heavens and the Earth. Little did I know, the first guest I would meet would be Satan himself:
`` Here just take it with you!'' the devil said to me. He had desperation in his eyes, it was almost a plea for help.
`` Wait, what???'' I asked the frantic arch-angel standing before me. Here before me, the Ruler of the Underworld, the man known in life for bartering souls for fortune... and he wanted to give me his? `` But... why?''
`` Its simple really. Let me explain this to you, kid. God created man in his image. God being the mightiest, he created man on the purpose of being kind, generous, and good.'' I listened on to the Devil's tirade, wondering if this was all a lie or what to believe. ``... Do you think that God, the greatest being of creation, would let even a single one of his greatest creations come down here to the after life to spend eternity with someone expelled from Paradise???''
It made sense... in a sad way. This person who was once one of the calvary of the Lord unto the Heavens, looked sad and feeble. Not only that, he was alone...
`` I have led a sad existence. I was exalted from the greatest place of the afterlife. Ive been down here for Eons wondering when he would take me back into his doors. I have no right asking anything from anyone, but... Would you be willing to take my soul with you when you cross over?'' His eyes were filled with pain and loneliness.
I thought about it for a moment. If I went through with this would this cause some kind of turmoil in Heaven? I was raised in a Christian household, led a great and fantastic life, I helped others and forgave them when I knew what they had done was terrible and wrong. I feel bad for this man. I almost pity him...
Im going to help him.
`` Ok.'' I said. The arch-angel lifted his head with a genuine smile.
`` Really!? Thank you. Im sorry to put you into a mess like this, but Ive bore my sins entirely too long and I would like to ask the Lord myself for the chance of forgiveness. Thank you, thank you, thank you!''
I was happy to help this person, even if he was the devil. If there was anything I had learned on my time being alive, is that we should forgive others and love one another. The world would've been a much better place if everyone worked together.
I walked into the light with Lucifer. Just to wind up in the same spot we were in before. I was puzzled.
`` Whats going on???'' i asked as I looked over at Lucifer, still smiling.
`` You passed.'' he said.
`` What do you mean?? Passed what?'' I was clueless to what he meant.
`` The final test. To get into Paradise. From all the things you learned, you learned the most important thing about being alive. Compassion.'' Lucifer said.
`` Wow... Thank you!'' still reeling from the confusion, tears began streaming from my eyes. I hugged the man who I had judged even on my time on Earth, without ever knowing him. This man, was a great man.
Lucifer then again grabbed my hand and began to lead me into the light this time.
`` Ready?'' he asked me.
`` I am now.'' I smiled back and wiped the last tear I would ever shed, and I am glad they were for this man.
|
[ WP ] So you just woke up , went downstairs for a cup of joe , and now you 're standing face to face with an alligator . It 's already taken over your recliner , and has told you that it has no intentions of leaving .
| `` Hello, Paul.''
Click.
The end table lamp flicked on, vaguely illuminating the hideous silhouette of a large and misshapen monster, lounging in my favorite recliner. The nasty shadow shifted in the chair, hunkering down and getting comfortable. I wondered how long he had been just sitting there in the dark, waiting for me to come downstairs. It was two am now. We went upstairs around ten o'clock the night before. Fell asleep around midnight. Did some stuff in between. Or maybe I was dreaming?
As if to confirm my suspicions, the alligator sprawled in my recliner patted a large claw atop a Faulkner novel sitting on the end table.
`` One of the greats,'' he said as he flashed a stretch of horrid, jagged teeth in what I could only guess was the equivalent of a grin.
I just stared at the stupid shadow. My feet were frozen to the rug. A state of terror and hilarious confusion swept over me like a humid summer gust.
Bridgette would be calling me back upstairs any second. She was n't a very patient gal, at times. Not when she wanting something. And she did. Besides, what was I supposed to say? `` Oh hey honey I'll be right up, I'm just talking to the alligator in our living room''. That would fly. We'd both know it's a crock of shit. But here I was, just the same. This was actually happening.
`` You fucking freak,'' I muttered under my breath.
`` Ah, such a common response.'' The hump of leather in my recliner sighed and looked off towards the bay window.
`` Please, have a seat, will you?''
I did as instructed. My head felt light but my thoughts were heavy like elephants with the burden of my blossoming insanity. Or should I say alligators?
Bridgette, calling me now from upstairs. Her voice was stoically impatient. Sometimes I just wish the nagging bitch would leave me be. She was n't satisfied until I did exactly as she told. Always wanting something.
Suddenly, I found my solution. My entire face lit up, a teeth-stretching, ear to ear grin. It had to of been hideous, even for the eyes of the leather goon in my recliner.
The smile was now plastered across my entire face, a mask of pure lunacy.
`` Hungry?'' I asked, pointing upstairs.
|
[ WP ] After making a suicide pact , a boyfriend and girlfriend jump off the Golden Gate bridge , one of them dies . The other finds out that they are immortal .
| I've never seen this bridge so barren. Not to imply that it was lacking its fair share of the midnight traffic, no definitely not. More to imply that I simply did not care enough to keep up the facade of enjoying this day-to-day drivel. Monotony is the antagonist of my life. Sara shook it up a bit.
She sat alongside me, hand clenching mine as her cheeky smile glared to high heaven. Two beings in unity that used each other's company as a jam in the samey traffic that populated every waking second of their lives. It was interesting of course, she was an optimist in the most morbid way. She always clung to this faint spark of hers, a spark that told her this was a test that she had to transcend in order to reach her true life. But she could n't do it alone. She needed her teenage heartthrob there with her to take that plunge and kick that ethereal bucket into the next realm. I sighed and turned to her. `` You still sure?'' Her eyes gleamed in the emberlike glow of the street lamps that lined the bridge. She just nodded. A confident, *happy* nod.
I took her in both arms as we bid our short farewell to each other, destined to meet on the other side. The breeze that trailed alongside us for the night seemed to lift her from my arms as if she was nothing but a frail leaf. But that smile quickly turned to something more puncturing. A look of fear, pain and despair all rolled into one easy to digest packet of black emotion. I'd tried this before, suicide to end the simplistic lifestyle that hounded me. It did n't work. No scratches, organ trouble, bruises or otherwise. Any noose frayed before I would die. So here I sit, watching my current love weave her way into my tapestry as one who places trust in a boy she'd known for a handful of months. Idiot. For all her faults though, she had the whole looks thing going for her. A face of the whitest porcelain and hair of darkest black. Her delicate features and sharp eyes contrasted each other so perfectly, as if her face was structured by her own thought processes. Standing and looming over the edge as the water embraced her, I spoke my last words to her:
`` You may not have been the first, nor the last. But I'll be damned if you are n't the prettiest.''
|
[ WP ] After struggling your whole life with social anxiety , you die and are immediately brought before a divine presence who asks you , `` Does humanity deserve to keep existing ? ''
| The voice echoed throughout the infinite space, seeming to occupy it entirely, in spite of its sheer impossibility. Above that, however, the question made itself prominent in my mind, a complex set of answers springing forth, with none having actual priority over the other. As tempting as it was to deliberate upon such a question, attempting to make a choice that was somehow free from my own bias and arrogance, I had something much more stressful to deal with.
It must have noticed by now, for a second question sprung forth. `` Why do you avert your eyes, young one?''
There was an urge to describe something elegant, along the lines of flattering whatever supernatural presence was before me with words like,'your brilliance is difficult to look at,' or'I can not gaze upon something so magnificent, your grace.' It was superseded, however, by reality: shaky, sweaty hands, an excessive amount of blinking, and an uncomfortable level of shifting.
`` W-well, it's just...'' Why did I act like this? It just started happening one day, when I found that I could n't hold a proper conversation with people. It's not that I did n't know what I wanted to say, but rather that it became all jumbled up when I actually had to be face-to-face with another person. You add what I can only imagine is God to the mix, and how am I even supposed to function like this?
`` Is n't that question... A little- I do n't know...'' Hell yes, I know! Why is this guy asking me such an important question?! Do I look like I can give a straightforward answer to this?! I've thought about it a lot in my spare time, late at night when I felt like the world was just an amalgamation of mistakes and idiots, but was n't that just me being conceited? Now that I'm actually here, being asked, I do n't know what to say!
`` I just- like... Well... I mean... People will be people...'' What the hell was that? Did that sentence even mean anything? Is n't that just tautology at its finest?
I'm just embarrassing myself at this point. Maybe if I take a few seconds to think this through, I'll be able to deliver a proper sentence. I deliberately closed my eyes, slowing my breathing and forcing myself to slow my pace. I thought about my experience with life, with the people in this world and the state of reality, and tried to draw from it a comprehensive, unbiased, objective opinion. I even took the care to plan out the exact sentence, and after a few deep breaths, I proposed my answer:
_In this life, where our only purpose is to simply exist and die, to allow us, an infinitely flawed existence, to continue in this meaningless world, is, to put it simply, an exercise in torture. I can only assume you must have created us as a twisted form of your entertainment, as no reasonable god would go out of their way to create a reality under the misguided guise of'benevolence.'_
`` In our life, we, um... Uh... We just live and die... And, well... I mean, we're not really, like, perfect, so to just... Live here... It kind of does n't make much sense... I do n't really, like, get it... Why you made us, and stuff... So, like, I do n't really know...''
Die! Just die, right now! How could you screw that up so badly?! That was such an elegantly thought-out, honest answer, and you replace it with _that_?!
Oh my god...
`` I'm sorry, I'm not... Really good with people...'' I confessed.
``... I see that now,'' the voice of eternity replied, with an unmistakable tone of disappointment. `` Perhaps it was an error of judgment on my part.''
`` No! No, I mean, like... It's just me, you know? It's not your... Like, fault... Oh... Great One...'' My neck craned to the side, my anxiety finally having gotten the best of me, as I began to physically avoid confronting the God or whatever.
_Oh Great One?! **Seriously?! **_
|
[ WP ] A genie who ca n't do things magically , but can make wishes 'happen ' , through chains of events started by the swisher .
| ``... I guess I'm just confused about the other guy?''
`` SWISHERRR!''
The Djinn al-Wasit sighed deeply. This was always difficult to explain.
`` *You see, *'' he began, `` *Djinni are n't really like... wizards, or something. *'' He waved his hand dismissively at such fantasy nonsense. `` *We make things happen by operating on a different plane of reality, in the Unseen-*''
`` Like a spirit world or whatever, yeah I get it, I do n't need the details but what is his deal?'' The lamp bearer gestured to the Swisher, who had begun running up and down the hall, flapping his glittery purple cape like a pair of wings.
`` *It's a complicated process with a number of intermediaries... *''
`` Uh-huh.''
`` *A chain reaction, really... *''
`` Sure.''
`` *The important thing is to have the right, uh, spiritual perspective; things can look very different from the other side and-*''
`` I just wan na know how I'm supposed to get rich off him... is he farting into his hand and smelling it?''
`` SWISH!''
The Djinn put his head in his hands.
`` *I've been stuck doing this for thousands of years, please just go with it. *''
|
[ WP ] You are not a Google car , but a Google backpacker . Your job is to walk the trails of the world to record them .
| `` See the world, and get paid to do it!'' they said.
`` It will be a fun and exciting opportunity!'' they said.
`` What a load of..'' My thoughts were interrupted as my feet came out from under me, sending me tumbling down a small slope. I sluggishly regained my composure and adjusted my cumbersome backpack.
I had always been called the `` outdoorsy guy'' by my friends. It was a nickname rightfully given, as I loved being active outside. Hiking, mountain biking, kayaking.. you name it, I loved it. So when I was offered the opportunity to be handsomely paid to work for one of the world's largest companies, to hike uncharted territories, I hastily accepted. I should have read the fine print.
`` Alright,'' I told myself, `` You've got this. You're seeing a places that no one has ever seen, and getting paid a stupid amount of money to do so. Man up. You're a professional now.''
I took off my sunglasses and fogged them with a short breath. Wiping them clean, I saw my reflection for the first time in a few days. `` Jesus,'' I thought, `` the sun is brutal out here. How am I sunburned already?''
I fumbled through my jacket pocket and retrieved a paper map. It flailed in the wind as I flattened it on the ground. `` Where the hell...'' I thought, as my eyes focused from the map to the vast landscape below me. Once more, I fumbled through my pockets to retrieve a compass.
`` They can put a man on the moon, but they ca n't make a GPS battery that will last a week,'' I mumbled under my breath as I got to my feet.
`` Alright, so I have to head for that coast.. right?'' I debated with myself as my feet crunched against the ground below me. I made my way down a steep pitch, where the trail soon flattened out. I thought of all of the exotic places that I had in mind when I signed up for the job. I thought of all the people I'd meet, the interesting food I'd eat, and the stories I'd have.
There was a large `` CRACK!'' below my feet as the ground began to shift. I moaned in disappointment as I contemplated the decisions I had made to lead up to this point. `` Out of all the places.. F'ing Antarctica? Really guys?!'' I yelled as I looked up at the sky.
In the blink of an eye, the mountain I had been climbing had undergone a drastic transformation... into an iceberg.
`` Perfect,'' I thought, watching the mainland slowly drift away. `` Just perfect.''
|
[ WP ] `` Everything is going to be okay . '' I lied to her as I held her in my arms
| I'm coming up on 25 years tenure at Wolfram, lead trader in the S & P futures pit, moving contracts like you rake leaves. I make this fucking market. My friends are rich, but only because I've decided they will be. They had to work for it, it had to be earned. Nothing buys respect but blood. Today, I want blood.
0930 and it's time to rock and roll. I hit the ground running and sell 50,000 December contracts. I think it's time we had ourselves a bear market. This is just a test, though - the past 12 weeks have been nothing but good news. How brave is your money? The market takes it more or less in stride, but there's a moment of hesitation. I'll tell you a secret: this stopped being fun 15 years ago. Even the cat eats the mouse, eventually.
Another 50,000, all at once. People start looking at me. Fuck it, 50,000 more. Now people are trying to talk to me. Whose account is this? What do they know? What does the future hold? Pain. The gloves are off now. 100,000 and 100,000 and 100,000. I've just removed $ 750,000,000 of hot air from the room. There's a moment of silence, and I think I almost feel bliss. The sharper traders seem to suspect what I'm doing, feebly trying to buy me up, but nobody can swing my line. A few others pitch in, but most stand around like the idiot sycophants they were bred to be; these Ivy League lemmings are just waiting for the right cliff to jump off.
Someone at Bloomberg takes notice. The ticker is on the television, and now everyone is seeing red. The slicked up monkey they've got behind a desk just keeps repeating, `` Why? Why now?'' as the violence continues. I've single-handedly scared off all the buyers and now things are really starting to get interesting. The price falls 500 points in twenty-eight seconds. `` This has got to be China, this ca n't be real!'' someone behind me shouts. Someone else chimes in, `` fuck you, man, it's the goddamn computers running this shit down!''
The government steps in and forces the market to lock-limit-down and close, some say for the rest of the week. I know better. The cascade has already started. Everything fell too fast for the `` safe havens'' and now bonds, gold, and silver are going haywire, running up on speculation and down on fear. Currencies do n't know what to do, so they just die. It only takes 4 hours for $ 3.8 trillion to evaporate. The President of the United States has a very important announcement for the American people.
My wife and I order pizza. She asks me what the fuck happened today, she asks me why so many people killed themselves, she asks me why she could n't use her debit card to buy a birthday card for our nephew. She asks me if this was just a fluke, if it's over now and if everything will go back to normal tomorrow. I sigh, I stand, I pull her close. `` Everything is going to be okay,'' I lied to her as I held her in my arms.
|
[ WP ] A secret assassin organization uses a radio station and plays songs with code words hidden inside on who and how must be killed . Unknown to you , you call them and request a series of songs . Days later , the world erupts in Chaos .
| `` The president has been shot. I repeat, the president has been shot''
Don Lemon was usually a fairly calm person, but it was apparent that this was simply too much for him. He took a moment, paused, and looked into the camera, but was still unable to hide the tears that were steaming down his face. He continued to read the bulletin.
`` The president -- has been shot despite the extra security detail that was assigned yesterday, due to the assassination of the Vice President. The condition of President Obama is unknown, but Paul Ryan has been sworn in.
As if the election was n't a bad omen enough, the signs of the rapture were becoming all the more apparent. Hillary Clinton had been shot, an attempt on Tim Kaine had already taken place, but luckily he was spared. The violence had started just 36 hours ago, the morning of November 1st at roughly 8:00 AM.
I remember that moment so clearly, so vividly, and am I positive it will stick with me until the day I die. I was driving to work listening to the radio, and the DJ had finally relented to my unending demands for `` Born in the USA'' by Bruce Springsteen. The song was n't even finished before it was interrupted with the bulletin `` A double assassination has been attempted on presidential candidate Hillary Clinton and her VP Tim Kaine. Clinton is currently in critical condition after sustaining two gunshot wounds to the abdomen; Kaine made it out unscathed. The suspects are still at large, but witnesses state the assassins employed military style positioning and movement.''
Fast-forward to now, 8:00 PM on Wednesday, November 2nd. The assassinations continued throughout the day yesterday, and now into today. What has changed though is the rise to prominence of the right wing militia group, Army for a New American Lifestyle ( ANAL ), as they had claimed all of the assassinations, saying that a war was going to be raged for the protection of the white nationalist movement.
I can only hope this is the apocalypse as described in Revelations. For the first time since the Civil War, America lives in constant peril, fighting against its own citizens. All I can say is that if this is indeed the apocalypse, I can only hope that as the rapture separates the repented and the unrepentant, the person who called in this rebellion has a special spot in hell specifically for them.
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[ WP ] Out of nowhere it struck , no one knew the source and no one ever found out . But on a tuesday night everyone on earth below the age of 16 ... ..lost the ability to sleep . Chaos erupted , for the rich few that were able to afford 'NightCare ' it was just a nuisance . But in the suburbs ...
| My whole life I β ve focused on becoming a tennis player. I would cut class before competitions, just to practice more. I would wake up freezing in the middle of winter, hours before anyone else, and swing my racket just to perfect my strokes. I became the best tennis player in my town, I dominated recreational and high school leagues of all age brackets up until I graduated. My grades suffered, but being number one in the state for my age group secured me a scholarship. Many people were counting on me to dominate at tennis in college, to spread our school β s reputation. I was thirsty for more challenges. I wanted to get better, playing for over a decade at that point only fueled my passion further.
But then I met Sandra freshman year of college. And we fucked. A lot. And it was fun. But it was a distraction.
Tennis had been my reason for living, my lover, parent and friend for many years. I β d only known Sandra for two months and she was starting to get clingy, taking more from me then she could give. So I broke up with Sandra because tennis was more important. To be fair, I had told her when she elevated my status from fuck buddy to boyfriend that tennis was the most important thing in my life, and it was going to stay that way no matter what. After we broke up, I ignored all of her phone calls and avoided her completely after about a month had passed.
I remember preparing to go into an important qualifier match when my cellphone rang.
β Wait. What? β
β I β m going into labor Charlie β
I remember getting really nervous because she said it like it was supposed to matter to me. Sweat stained my palms and made the cellphone gross in my hand.
I could feel dirt in the cracks of my palm, sticking to my skin.
β Why are you telling me this, I told you we were over. β
She exhaled sharply, annoyed.
I started to get angry and yelled into the phone, β Sandra this better not be some manipulative ploy to make me talk to you. We already worked it out, we met up like three times since we broke up to talk. I β m sorry you got yourself knocked up, but I β m busy at the moment and can β t talk to you β.
I got really worked up, I was already pumped since my match was starting soon. She started sobbing on the other end of the line, big blubbery whistles like a dog crying.
β It β s yours Charlie, the baby is yours. β
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
10 years later.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
So my life had not been my own for a while now. I had considered killing myself, since I couldn β t play tennis and be a father at the same time. I wanted a family, but not until I had achieved my dream and Sandra took that away from me.
This went through my mind as I sat across from her in the living room of our shitty four room house that we were renting. Saturday was my only day off from the double shifts that I worked the other six days. Years ago I was able to still play tennis, but getting old sucks. Now any free time I had went to resting, so I can perform menial labor and feed my kids. Yes kids, we had another one because β Charlie Jr. needs a playmate Charlie! HE NEEDS the social stimulation, you aren β t around enough to hang out with him and- β, at that point I had walked out of the room, so who the fuck knows what else she said.
I glared at her, reading her fucking novella. Sitting in the couch I had paid for, in the clothes that I had paid for.
I heard the backdoor slam and a set of feet running, pounding against the linoleum of the kitchen and then pounding on wood floors as Charlie Jr. and Timmy ran through the living room. Before rounding the bend and continuing out the backdoor of the house, Timmy accidentally knocked over the small table stand that I had been resting my beer on. It spilled on to the carpet.
I reached out to grab him by the collar, but the little scoundrel ducked, stuck out his tongue and followed his brother into the yard. I was too tired to really do anything. I yelled at Sandra to clean it up and she just ignored me. The beer soaked into the carpet and was forgotten, like the other stains and marks around the house that never got cleaned.
They all just ignored me.
But you know who didn β t ignore me, the friends and fans I had made playing tennis. God, how much I missed the game. I didn β t realize what was happening inside me, the terrible agony slowly morphing into sociopathic tendencies. I was held back only by cultural norms, fear of punishment, but most of all, a sense of responsibility to my kids.
That was my analysis though when I was still sane. Last month things changed. It was a Saturday where I had the living room to myself. My eyes were glued to the television as I distracted myself from life. There was a report about some kind of nerve stimulant that did something to something and then something about rhino virus carrying something, something. I was drunk and thought it was a joke. In my stupor I passed out on the couch.
I heard laughing and my eyes popped open. The living room was dark, neon numbers across the room showed the time to be 3:20 AM. I heard pounding on the wooden floors. A set of feet.
Fear set in, I thought it was a robber. I quickly rose and flipped the light switch. It was my kids, they were chasing each other with toy guns in there hand.
β Why are you guys up! β I yelled. They both froze, I had never been that loud before. But it had also been a while since I β d been this angry. I had to be at work in a few hours and they had interrupted my sleep.
I heard Sandra upstairs getting off our bed. The floorboards creaked as she descended the stairs.
β Well. Answer Me. β
β We can β t sleep dad β they said in unison.
Sandra appeared behind me. She brushed past me, taking both boys by the hands.
β Come on guys, dad is trying to sleep. β She led them away. I went back to bed and then went to work a few hours later.
They stopped sleeping, every single night the kids would wake us. My coworkers complained about their kids. The schools started to change. Adults started to change. Kids are the future and we need to accommodate them. If this is how mankind is supposed to evolve, so be it. That β s what everyone said. Everyone agreed. Scientists couldn β t reverse whatever the common cold now did to kids that made them never have to sleep again. They seemed to function normally; they just never needed to sleep to do so.
The first tragedy as a result of this phenomenon was the massive loss of jobs as every industry and product associated with sleep began to shrink. With no more new customers, the next generation won β t even know what a mattress was.
The second tragedy was the ritual I had to perform so I can become young again. I had to become the tennis star I was meant to be.
After the third week of sleeping less than an hour my young self started to whisper in my ear. My kids screaming all day and night, them needing more attention, food, water and entertainment while the rest of us went on needing sleep. It was impossible to keep living, until Charlie told me it was okay, β you don β t need sleep either, you just need me Charlie β.
I had stopped talking to my family, since they just ignored me anyway, and started carrying on conversations with the old me. I shared fond memories of being on the court and felt so much nostalgia that the jarring pain became freeing. And I knew I needed more pain to free myself completely.
One night, after Sandra fell asleep, I went into the garage and downed an entire bottle of tequila. This was the prerequisite for the ritual, I could hear my younger self more clearly when I was intoxicated. When his whispers were just behind my ear, crystal clear, I began to do what he told me.
I shaved my whole body and then took a long, hot shower. After I was clean and slick, I got my old tennis racket and cleaned the dirt off of it as well until it shined like it did in the old days. As I came out of the garage, I went into the kitchen for a pair of scissors and cut the racket β s interwoven threads until it resembled a noose with its now empty face. Cupping my ear, I heard my kids laughing in the living room. Following their laughter, I found them sitting on the floor playing with blocks. With their backs turned to me I bludgeoned them to death using the side of the racket and then proceeded to go find my wife upstairs.
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[ WP ] A priest visits a house to exorcise a little girl . Expecting the usual head-spinning and projectile-vomiting , he is surprised when he finds the demon listening to Tchaikovsky and enjoying some exotic French cheese .
| The dark sky swirled above the clergyman, and his splashing footsteps echoed through the dark alleyways. He raised a pale fist, thudding it against a brightly painted door. A worried lady answered it, swinging back the thick wood plank, causing the hinges to creak and moan. She had her hair thrown in a messy bun, with fly away strands ghosting around her head.
`` Are you the exorcist?'' She asked, her voice shaking with nervousness. The clergyman simply nodded, and the woman opened the door for him to come in. As the exorcist hung his hat up, fat drops of water dripping to the tiled floor, the woman began to stammer out the predicament. `` My daughter just has n't been right sir, I'm certain it's not her in there anymore. I called as soon as I thought something was up.'' She kept her gaze low, not making eye contact. Then, in a low voice, she said `` Thank you for coming. I. I just want my daughter back.'' Her words came out choked, and her eyes were glistening with water. The clergyman smiled, and put her hand upon the mother's shoulder.
`` Do n't worry, I will get her back for you.'' The woman smiled at this and nodded shakily. `` Please take me to your daughter, and I can start to exorcise her.'' He commanded in a calm voice. The mother then led him to another room, where a small girl sat. the exorcist β s eyes went wide at the sight of the possessed girl. A soft classical melody wafted through the room, and the demon in a child's body sat with their legs up on a table, sampling a hard yellow cheese, which sharp scent could be sniffed from across the room.
`` Oh, excuse my manners, I did n't know we were having company.'' Said the child with a wolfish grin. She gestured towards the chairs for them to sit, an offer the two adults refused `` I believe this is an aged french cheese. Perhaps a Morbier. It has been a while since I've last had some fine foods, so excuse me if I'm out of practice.'' She put on a ponderous face, pouting at the cheese in thought. β Hmmm, maybe it β s a new cheese I haven β t heard of. β
`` B-Begon demon!'' The exorcist hastily said, bringing out an old wooden cross from his frumpled robes. The child let out a disappointed sigh.
`` All I wished for was a night back with the fine things of the human realms. A night to feel and taste and hear and experience this wondrous place.'' The demon swiveled their eyes over to the clergyman. `` Yet with all of the wonders that you have built and make, you feel the need to greedily guard them''
`` That is my child you are in!'' Shouted the mother, nervously clinging to the clergyman's robes. The demon pouted, and swung it β s legs down to the grown, standing back up at a pathetic height.
`` I was going to give her back in a few years or so. And she would have been fine. Look, how about we trade, she gets the body some of the days, and I get the rest of the days. Look! She's still fine in here!'' The demons slitted eyes rolled back into the child's head, and normal pupils returned out from underneath.
`` Mama! Help me! A bad thing's in my head!'' shouted the child, her eyes wide in fright. Her pupils rolled back and the child began to scream. Slitted eyes rolled back and the screams ceased.
`` Oh, you ungrateful little swine. I'm only borrowing.'' The demon looked back at the horrified mother, who had started sobbing. `` You really need to teach her about sharing.''
`` Ge-Get out of her Demon!'' the exorcist shouted, brandishing the cross in front of him, his knuckles turning white as he squeezed the symbol. He had never seen anything like this before. Screaming, sure, crawling the walls, yeah sometimes, creepy supernatural body movements, all the time. But bargaining? And fancy cheese? The classical background music was n't doing anything to make the exorcism normal either.
`` You offering me a place to stay then, clergyman?'' The demon asked, batting its eyelashes. `` We can share!'' It pleaded.
`` Go back from where you came from beast!'' He shouted in response.
`` No can do.'' The demon shook it's head. `` Boss-man's mad at me for my little escapades for fine culture.'' The demon tapped the tip of its small shoe onto the floorboards, indicating the place its boss lived. `` Demons are n't supposed to enjoy the opera apparently. Do n't know why, there's plenty of suffering in them. That's a demon-y thing.'' The demon added dejectedly. `` So even if you expel me from the body, I'm just coming back. Gates are closed to me. So nothing can suck me back down there. So unless you got some alternate plan, I'm staying here.'' The demon stamped her foot down, almost as if in a tantrum fitting for the body it was in.
`` Nowhere else you could go?'' The clergyman asked disappointedly, lowering his cross. The demon shook it's head. The exorcist sighed. He was going to regret this later, but it was his holy duty to protect the innocent from demons. Not like he could just tell the mom that she now had a demon instead of a daughter. `` Do you promise to share?'' he asked with a sigh, looking at his feet in defeat. The demon's eyes lit up, and a wide grin spread across it's face.
`` Yes I do, if you're okay with it we can do shared consciousness, something this child would n't let me do, so I can still experience everything, with you shutting me out occasionally of course. Maybe every once in a while give me a turn to drive.'' The demon smiled and stuck out its hand. `` So, deal?'' It asked, its face full of hope. The clergyman sighed. And reached his fingers out to clasp the tiny hand.
`` Deal.''
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[ FF ] The Collector Cometh . 400 Words . ( Contest )
| The sharply dressed man introduces himself as β The Collector. β It was n't the dark suit and red tie. It was n't the black hair or his devilish grin that chilled my bones. It was his deep black eyes with small green circles in the middle. I had never seen such a stare. When he locked eyes with mine I felt a deep freeze of sorts in my spine and I had felt I was in a trance of stillness.
β Collector? β I ask, β What do you need from me? β
β You should really move out of the way. β he replies.
And without even resisting, I move out of the way. I could feel myself moving without my brain commanding myself to. Three steps back on the roll-out carpet in the hallway, one step up, a single step off the stairs to the right.
I have never been through this before. I did n't have the slightest clue of what was going on. All I could feel was a shiver of fear from the outside in. As The Collector makes his way into my home, I can only wonder what he plans on finding. He makes his way past me slowly. As he passes I can hear him sniffing as if he were a bloodhound on the hunt. I ca n't speak. My lips are sealed. I ca n't move. My body is in a paralyzed state. *What is going on here!? *
He makes quick work of the living room straight ahead of me, sniffing every single inch of every piece of furniture and nic nac I own. He says nothing to himself as he finishes his round and continues into the kitchen attached to the living room area. Sniffing the walls and the wide Victorian style doorway leading to the kitchen, he mumbles ever so softly β I smell him. β and I lose sight of him as he passes the corner into the kitchen. I hear every cabinet opened and every pot pushed aside as if he had lost something of importance. I start to think, *Who's'Him'? I'm the sole occupant of this house. *
Not long after The Collector walks over to me, with a harsh tone in his voice, he says β If I do n't find him this will no longer be your home. β If only I could speak. If only I could ask him who he is looking for. The Collector brushes his shoulder on me as he makes his way ever so enraged up the stairs. He smells of filth and rotting flesh as though he was as rancid as a decaying carcass. Disgusting none the less. Skipping steps to the top, he stops suddenly as if a wall were blocking his path. He starts to chant in a language that has no meaning to my ears, just gibberish: β Jesto Confectious dora du mondoe β He chants a few times. I feel a rush of fear fall over me. My mind blanketed with a darkness which I had never felt before. A small flash of light had flickered in front of him and he continued his way up the steps. It must have been less then a minute but felt like an eternity. I hear a very loud crash. Then again, and again, and again. He must either be very angry or found what he was looking for. I hoped and prayed he had found what he was looking for so I can get back to my life. I can now hear two voices: his as dark as nightmares, and a more innocent voice. I can make out β I have found you come with me. β β No! you will never have me. Go back to the depths. Send him my regards. β
Another crash louder than the others. I suddenly can move again and I can talk. Without hesitation I run up the stairs skipping two and three steps. I get to the top of the long staircase and see a sight of tornado equivalent destruction with The Collector standing over what looked to be a small child's still body. β You need to leave. β I say to The Collector. β Now get out. β And with precision, The Collector smashes my jaw with his hand. I fly across the floor boards and hit what was left of the closet in front of the stairs. Dazed and sitting now, I can only observe this Collector hovering over this unknown child's body. His jacket had been torn on his pin stripe suit and I can make out a fur-like skin under. This man was not a man at all. He was a beast in mans skin. As he is hovering over the child he breathes in one big breath. I can see a white aura coming from the child and as he steadies his breath the child gets pale and gray. The Collector makes fast work of the child and approaches me. β I have come for this child's soul for my eternal life to continue, and now I will take your face to mask myself as you until I need to feed again. Your soul will be mine to keep me strong. Your essence of purity in your life has lead to the doom of your humanity. β I can only fear what will happen to me. I can only hope my praying throughout my life will lead me to the White Gates. As he stands over me, battle scarred from what ever happened up there, he breathes in the same as when he was over the child. I do n't feel anything. I see no white aura as last time. Frustrated, he gazes into my eyes breaking into my sub conscience, feeling all I have felt and seeing all I have done. β No this cant be true. β he says. In a frantic movement he makes a mad dash for the door and all I can feel is relief. I will not say a word. I'm alive. The child's body is gone and the upstairs is a pit of ruins. As I make my way to where the child once laid, I find a small ring no bigger than a penny wide made of solid gold. It has an etching on it.
After two days of cleaning and trying to forget what happened, I can hear the news. The man on the television talking about a missing child. β Tommy West and his father Pete West of 44 Evergreen Road have gone missing as of last night. No one knows where they have gone. If you have seen Tommy or Pete West, age 5 and age 37, please contact local authorities. β A feeling of guilt has just fallen over me. These were real people. This little boy who died here, I had never seen before.
To this day I still fear The Collector, or what I will have to see on the news. Nobody knows what he is or where this ring came from. The churches shut the doors to me and authorities think I'm crazy. Nobody should ever have this guilt that weighs on me. I'm sorry to whoever finds this. Maybe this journey to the after life I take will lead me to stopping this Collector.
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[ WP ] An office worker 's favorite decorative coffee mug has gone missing , and the obsessive search for the mug throughout the workplace turns into a dire and ridiculous odyssey .
| Bob MacAroy, manager of the accounting department for John β s Tricks and Jokes Emporium, called me in. Two days ago the love of his life was taken, somebody had taken his collectible coffee mug.
The receptionist greeted me, Miss Vaughn. She had legs like spoiled cottage cheese, the smell of cherry filled the air. β How are you doing handsome? β
She was my kind of woman, the kind that liked to be fed. β I β m doing great, now that I β ve met you ham hock. β
She took a drag on her vape stick. β Only my boyfriends call me ham hock. β
β And just how many boyfriends do you have? β
She blew a cloud of vape juice in my face. β None right now. β
β I β d love to see what β s under that mu mu, but I need to talk to Bob. β I gave her a wink and a coupon for a two for one value meal at McDonald β s.
Miss Vaughn licked her lips, pocketing the coupon. β We can use this later. β She pointed down the hallway. β Bob β s two offices down on the left. β
Bob β s door was open, he sat at his desk solving a Rubix Cube. β Mr. MacAroy? β I asked.
He looked up from his Rubix Cube. β Who wants to know? β
β I β m Tim, here about the missing coffee mug. β
He motioned to the chair with an obvious whoopee cushion on it, I picked it up and sat down. β So, tell me what happened. β
Bob stood up and handed me the Rubix Cube. β A week ago I bought a special mug imported from Africa. It had a coin embedded in it, a coin with the face ofβ¦ β He trailed off and looked out the window. β President Obama. β
I wasn β t really paying attention, I was engrossed with the Rubix Cube, but my ears perked when he talked about the greatest President to ever grace the world β s greatest country. β What about Obama? β
β The coin had his face on it, a special order from the Bank of Liberia. It even has a certificate of authenticity. β
The Rubix Cube fell apart in my hand. β Sorry. β
Bob sat back down. β Don β t worry, it β s just a joke Rubix Cube. β He put his head in his hands. β That mug was one of a kind. β
β How much was it worth? β
β Almost twenty dollars, not including shipping and handling. β
I shook my head. β That could be quite a lot of money to some people. β
β What can you do? β
I crushed the whoopee cushion, the farting sound aroused me. β Actually, I β ve already solved the case, have everybody meet in here in one hour. β
After an hour in the bathroom I came back to Bob β s office. Miss Vaughn was there, along with an indeterminate number of other people without names or any distinguishing features worth describing.
Bob stood in front of the group. β Tim is here to get to the bottom of the theft of my mug. β He waved me over. β Go ahead Tim. β
I took Tim β s place. β Good afternoon everybody. This will be short and you can get back to your job as Receptionist and whatever it is everybody else does shortly. β
β That β s good, I love receiving things, especially from bulging men named Tim, β Said Miss Vaughn.
I smirked. β I know you love taking things Miss Vaughn, because it was you that took Bob β s collectible Obama mug. β
Everybody gasped, one person fainted, Bob emitted odors.
Miss Vaughn put her hand to her chest. β Darling, how can you accuse big old me of such a crime? β
β It is quite simple Miss Vaughn, I reviewed the last ten years of employment of every person that worked here. You have an eight year gap in your resume. β
She crossed her arms. β It β s a tough economy. β
Out of my trench coat that I was wearing for some reason I produced Miss Vaughan's police record. β I knew you would say that, because that β s exactly what you said when you were arrested eight years ago for theft. β
She snorted. β I don β t see what this has to do with Bob β s mug. β
β You β re right, but you forgot one thing Miss Vaughn. β
β And what β s that? β
β The security tape that clearly shows you stealing Bob β s mug. In fact I have no idea why Bob didn β t look at it in the first place. β
Bob got up and stood behind Miss Vaughn. β I knew it was her the entire time, but I couldn β t turn her in, I love her. β
β I have bad news for your Bob. Check her blouse pocket. β
He reached in and pulled out the value meal coupon. β It β s just a coupon, so what? β
I checked my watch, which would have been more dramatic if I wore one. β Look at the time, twelve thirty. I gave that coupon to her an hour ago, before lunch. β
Bob looked at the coupon, then me, then the coupon, then me, then Miss Vaughn, then the coupon, then the realization hit him. β Oh my God. β
β That β s right Bob, no fat person would ever allow a coupon for food to go unused. You see, Miss Vaughn has a terrible secret she has kept from all of you. β I paused for dramatic effect.
β What β s the secret? β Asked one of the unnamed characters.
β I β m glad you asked, β I said, β Miss Vaughn is actually skinny! β
Miss Vaughn leaped from her chair at me like a cat after a brick. Bob and his unknown employees restrained her. β You just had to come in and ruin everything, β She said.
β And what did he ruin Nancy? β Asked Bob.
β I was going to run away with the janitor, once I had that mug we could go anywhere in the world. β
Some cops I had stashed in the hallway carried her away.
I patted Bob on the back. β Well Bob, looks like those cops will get some coffee with their doughnuts. β
β What? β Asked Bob.
β Cops like to eat doughnuts, and she stole a coffee mug. You know, it sounded better in my head. β
β Oh. β
I slowly backed out the door of Bob β s office. β Well, that was supposed to be my ending line, so, uh, goodbye. β
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[ WP ] DC is looking for a new writer but you need to do one thing to get the job . Write your own origin story for the Joker .
| The night was unusually quiet by Gotham's standards. Maybe the cold wind that blew through the streets, maybe it was the dark clouds that covered the stars. Regardless, the Joker hated the silence. He much preferred the noise of clanging metal, breaking glass, and angry shouts that usually filled this area of the city. Not that this street ever had much visitation - the old rubber factory had been abandoned for years, and dark rumors always surrounded the place. Even the burliest thugs gave it a wide berth; which is exactly why he had settled in the decrepit building. No. Unexpected. Guests.
The Joker loomed from a ledge above the street, his eyes glinting in the light from the lone street lamp below. He was deep in his mind, utilizing one of the still moments, when he could easily piece everything together; when he could analyze and plan - as opposed to the hectic jumble of thoughts that allowed him to execute each plan with the frenzied chaos for which he was so well known.
He turned from the street and made his way to the dented metal desk he liked to plan on. Or at least he liked right now - you never knew when in a fit of passion, inspiration, rage, or otherwise, something might happen to the desk. They were replaced often. For now, he was fond of this one.
And this desk was different. This desk was from BEFORE. His smile widened to a grin at the thought. The INNOCENT days. The days it was so simple... No one said planning for the death of the Bat was easy or forgiving work. But who cares??? It was his life now. And he loved it more than he could say.
He felt his thoughts frenzying, and closed his eyes, trying to reign in his focus.
Not yet.
He could n't execute yet.
Need to wait.
Need to plan.
The desk.
Focus on the desk.
His eyes snapped to the desk, and he focused in on the etchings on its metal surface. Hectic, yet organized scribbles, a blueprint, a map of the test facility. Nextech Laboraties. The Chemical Enhancement labs.
He stifled a giggle. Oh to wear a lab coat again and to conduct such minuscule experiments! Genetic correction. Isolate cancer cells. Reverse cognitive degeneration. Child's play, in his eyes. While the other members of his scientific team struggled with such simple barriers, he conducted his own experiments. He remembered how nearsighted NORMAL people were. He had always wanted to do things of SCALE, but his department had never agreed with his methods.
That's why it went wrong. He had begun to develop a solution to unlock the full capability of the mind in his lab. Able to allow the subject full range of mental function, no longer limited to specific regions of the brain, allowing them levels of cognitive performance previously unheard of. But he could n't stabilize the reaction - the chemicals behaved erratically, and the solutions were unpredictable, creating drastic ranges of results. He had refused to test the solution until it was properly stabilized.
But the Director of the department had grown tired of his `` experiments'' that never seemed to further the efforts of his team. She demanded results, and soon, by threat of his job. He knew he could n't sacrifice the resources provided by the lab - his work was too important. Too vital. Too revolutionary to be stopped by such a useless pawn.
So tests began. First rats, filthy animals. They tore themselves apart with their own claws and teeth. A disappointment.
Cats. Found dead the next morning.
Dogs. Lost all fur and found in a quivering heap.
Each test different. Each solution, thwarted.
Endless trials.
Endless failure.
And then success.
On an ape. A chimpanzee. Grinning from ear to ear the morning after trial. Sitting at the very same desk, as he came into check the following morning before hours. Using a knife to carve the blueprint of the building into the desk's metal surface.
The knife was a poor choice for the ape.
As he pulled the knife from the wet fur, he looked around at the wreckage of the struggle. The desk was overturned, but intact. His papers lay scattered. His mirror had shattered to pieces. The various vials of test solutions were pooling on the floor.
Except one.
Laying near the rack that had held the successful mixture, a single vial.
He picked it up and smiled. What better way to prove his success but to show them? To PROVE his intellect surpassed all the APES he worked with. To demonstrate the benefits of thinking large SCALE...
He unstoppered the vial and smelled the contents. The scent burned... and his eyes glinted in delight. He would be the greatest among men. The highest of all intellects. The thought made him giddy as he downed the solution.
The world exploded in color. Sights and sounds, everything seemed to shine and scream all at once, he could feel his heart racing, his thoughts about, but that ca n't be, he must FOCUS but the tiles on the floor are spinning and the floor is too cool for his hands, is that his blood on the floor or another solution, what is going on and why is everything SO. GOD. DAMN. LOUD!
And then it stopped.
He was on his knees, his hands sliced by the glass. His blood was seeping into the solutions on the floor, some of which had begun to bubble and gas. The fumes burned, and his thoughts seemed to dance as he inhaled. He caught movement on the ground; realized he was looking in a fragment of the shattered mirror. But the face he beheld was not his own.
Stark white skin pulled taught over protruding cheekbones. His hair had become streaked with green, his lips shone red and his eyes had a dull yellow to the cornea.
That ca n't be right. That was never intended as part of the serum...
He glanced around the room to find the rack of perfected solution he had taken the vial from, only to realize too late that the vial he had consumed was not the correct solution at all.
He panicked. His thoughts begin to whir and he gazed at his hands, shining starkly against the fluorescent light of the lab. Blood trickled down his arm, and he realized he had no idea what he had done.
And that thought seemed... funny.
He laughed. At first a chuckle. That chuckle built, rolling into a laughing fit, then to a maniacal cackle that filled the room. He could feel his brain working hyperactively now. Sporadic, maybe. Chaotic. Uncontrolled. But that would have to do. It was too late now!
He gazed upon the room and realized they could never understand. Those simple minded fools could never comprehend the magnitude of his endeavors before, but NOW! They would be utterly useless. Purely holding him back! He had greater things to accomplish, being stranded here would be just no fun.
So he burned it. The whole place. Set his solutions ablaze and dashed them across the walls, grinning and laughing and skipping around like a child on Christmas, the chemical fumes filling his lungs as much as his mania.
The Joker smiled at the memory, fingering the drawer of the desk. He had sought out a playmate, one who could appreciate his scale and intellect, the scope of his endeavors. The Batman kept him adequately entertained, and the people of Gotham served as appropriately accessible playthings. It was a great arrangement, but the Joker had a greater plan.
He scanned the room, the various scientific instruments, all laid out according to the diagram etched upon the desk. Soon, he would replicate the very serum that elevated him to such capabilities. And then, when he grew tired of the game of Cat and Mouse he played with Bats, he could elevate the game. Batsy would make an even better playmate when he could see the world like THIS!
But until then, the game would continue. And the serum would lay waiting. But first, it had to be made...
He pulled open the drawer and pulled out a small plastic nametag, clipping it neatly to his lapel.
Dr. Joseph Carr
Biochemical R & D
`` Time to have some FUN!''
The cackle echoed through the quiet of the night.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
EDIT:
Apologize for length; but thought the story was worthy of detail. Have only posted to this subreddit a few times, so I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
Also, if I challenged the canon or misrepresented aspects of the character I apologize. I love the Joker as a concept, but am a filthy casual when it comes to comic book universe facts. I just wanted to put a unique spin on a timeless character based off the kind of mind I have always interpreted. Thanks!
EDIT 2: Some spelling and grammar. It's long, okay?
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[ WP ] Write a mythical story about an animal that is almost or has already gone extinct
| Written in my best written Scottish accent ( I'm from Scotland, if that helps ), so I added an index at the bottom.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Ye'll likely ken o' some mythical beasts o' Scotland, the haggis, that unicorn we ha'e as oor national animal, maybe ye'll even ken'boot kelpies. And then, o' course, ye ha'e aw the witches, them ones ye c'uld find awl o'er Britain.
And aye, this is the story o' one o' them witches. The story o' the Witch o' Stac an Armin. Stac an Armin is one o' many sea stacks in the Ooter Hebrides, and nae more than a few generations past three men o' St Kilda foond an odd, wee birdie upon that very stack. Noo, bear in mind that this wee birdie wasnae really that wee at aw,'t was half the height o' one o' the men. But they caught it nonetheless, and held it captive fae a while.
'T was in their cage fae three days, and on the third't was getting angry. In truth, this wasnae a wee birdie at aw, nae, the men were horrified tae discover they'd caught a witch, who'ad brought a storm upon them. A great struggle ensued, as aw three men tried tae reach the cage that held the Witch o' Stac an Armin while the winds battered them tae and frae.
Wi' a mighty cry, yer great, great, great, let me get this right, great, great grandfather jumped upon the witch, wielding a stick fram the groond, and beat her tae a pulp. The other tae men joined in as soon as they c'uld. The witch was left nae but a pile o' feathers and a beak.
Thus gaes the tale o' the Witch o' Stac an Armin, the last Great Auk ever seen in Scotland.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Index: ken=know ha'e=have oor=our'boot=about aw/awl=all c'uld=could ooter=outer nae=no foond=found noo=now wasnae=was n't fae=for wee=small tae=to/two'ad=had tae and frae=to an fro wi'=with yer=your ye=you fram=from groond=ground gaes=goes
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[ WP ] If you murder someone , your jail sentence is as long as their remaining life would have been .
| Marianna had quite the track record. She had over 10 counts of robbery and had been an attendant to at least 25 drug deals. This was her first count of murder, so of course she screwed herself.
She dumped the pistol she used in a river, without swiping the damn thing of her prints. The pistol ultimately made it's way back to the city, and was picked up by an elderly woman, who did the `` correct thing'' in handing it into the cops. 48 hours later, there she was, in a stuffy courtroom, listening to the Honorable judge introduce the case.
The poor kid had it coming. Ronnie knew what would happen to him if he broke one of Gibson's rules. The kid ratted on a few of Gibson's latest recruits, who were now sitting in a jail cell somewhere, probably crying because they knew that the moment they got out, they would get the crap beaten out of them. Marianna did what Gibson had ordered her to do. Did she like what she did? No. Will she get over it? Eventually, yeah.
Finally, the judge spoke to her.
`` Miss Marianna Vasquez, you are charged for the murder of Ronald `` Ronnie'' Bennett. How do you plead?''
`` Guilty, Your Honor. No point in me denying it'', she spoke slyly.
She could feel her lawyer shaking his head beside her. She did n't care. She had done time before. Beside, this new government system was a cakewalk. The poor kid was involved in a street gang. He was n't going to last that long, even if Marianna had n't killed him.
`` Very well'', the judge spoke clearly, and began to stifle through his file.
`` This court sentences you to 5 years in prison. Case dismissed. Take Miss Vasquez away, please''.
Marianna was filled with shock and horror, and could n't stop herself.
`` Hey, you're lying! No way would he have lasted that long - he was a weak snitch!'' She shouted aggressively, standing up whilst doing so.
Two large guards grabbed her, to stop her from doing any harm to herself or anyone around her.
The judge raised himself slowly from his chair before speaking to her.
`` My file tells me otherwise, Miss Vasquez. Enjoy your 5 years in prison.''
And with that, the honorable judge left the courtroom, leaving Marianna seething with rage.
***
Thank you for reading my prompt!
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[ WP ] As an integral part of the Worldwide Afterlife Program of the far future , new technology allows for the deceased to remain as a visible `` ghost '' on Earth for a year and a day before they disappear forever .
| ( part one, above is part two )
`` Neurological scans at 100 percent. *Approved brain infrastruc... wait, hold on, yeah, approved. * Commencing synaptic electrode reconfiguration. *Check. * Personality nodes at standardized flux. *Characteristics have been properly simulated and encrypted. * Transfer to spectral projection in ten seconds.
Harris floated in a primordial amalgamation of what had been his life. Joys, misdemeanors, shortcomings; all condensed instantaneously in brief jolts like shattering glass. He mused what his ancestors, those who died before the W.A.P. Initiative, would have felt. Must have been horrible, knowing that those last fleeting moments with our family were really last fleeting moments. No opportunity to fix last-minute realizations of relationships unamended, promises unrealized. He felt guilty, almost. The countless others before that had been lacerated by excruciating shards of metal, the others that like him, dazed and overconfident, careened into the void with the taste of alcohol still on their lips. But only Harris and the lucky ones born in this new technological era would live on, albeit for a year and a day.
Harris anticipated the pull before it came. The extraordinary peace that had surrounded him collapsed into the agonizing anticipation on what he would have to say to his companions in the car that had survived, to his parents, to his younger brother that had looked up to him and now probably could n't even bear to walk into the Resuscitation Chamber. He saw a shimmering, mesmerizing light as his synthetic form channeled sensory information directly into his brain. A tingling sensation, the drop of vertigo, and the light encapsulating him in all of its horrible glory.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Man awoke from his slumber. He was one of the few left in this millennia that had the gift of immortality naturally engraved in his genes. Once there has been grand gatherings of those gifted with the obligation to remember and hold testament to history. Now, as far as he knew, he was the last.
`` There were rumors of one in New Johannesburg,'' his deceased master entrusted him a decade before, `` a woman. Unfortunately, our attempts at secure telecommunications were investigated by the local consortium and terminated. We have become too compartmentalized. Too spread out. It has become easier to... monetize our kind.''
`` Monetize?'' His younger self leaned closer over the smoldering flames of the campfire. They were among the last ones to still embrace this natural light.
`` Your naΓ―vetΓ© still concerns me. You should have learned more for an immortal one,'' the Master groaned in exasperation, `` yes, we have become objects of a product. Once all men died and rested. Now they die and still live.''
The Master extinguished the fire with a sweep of his hand.
`` They still live in light. But not a beautiful light,'' as he spat into the fire's ashes, `` a tainted, desecrated light. A light only existent from our genetics being sold and proliferated as a form of currency. Sold by the Traitor.''
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Man stumbled halfheartedly out of his sanctuary. In the distance, ultramodern skyscrapers pierced through the confinements of the sky, leaving smoke and smog as the residue. Glimmering in a harsh saturated cloud of manufacturing facilities and smokestacks, the city seemed to collapse inward toward the tallest superstructure of them all.
The Resuscitation Chambers. A huge, encompassing geodesic dome of heresy toward the simple concept of life and death. The Man had been taught by the Master not to look toward it too long. As the Master taught, it tainted the soul.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harris floated through the streets of New Gallica. The rich smells of simmering beef and the slithering tendrils of aromatic baked bread once washed him over in a tapestry of deliciousness. Now, not even the scientists' best efforts could ever recreate something so organic. Everything seemed contaminated, his digitized subconscious refusing to recreate the pleasures that came through a midnight stroll. The baked bread seemed dingy with a bitter aftertaste, the beef stew a dull heat.
Harris's family had not even bothered to come to his Resuscitation. They had probably already switched homes. It was fairly easy to gain cheap residential space in New Gallica with the invention of ferrofluid augmentations. The metallic substance simply formed a house through magnets, or whatever caused it to work. Nevertheless, in a severe state of depression, Harris ducked into a back alley to regurgitate his computer-rendered order of stew.
As Harris wiped the remaining flecks of light from his chin, he glanced upward. A meticulously dressed elderly Man stood whistling a long-forgotten tune in the adjacent alleyway opening. Outfitted with a hooded cape and Victorian-era clothes, the Man addressed Harris's apprehension with a perfectly maintained smile.
`` How are you enjoying the afterlife?'' the Man asked Harris casually.
Conscientious of the fact that the Man was n't poking around his semi-transparent form like most on the street did, even though deceased holograms were a regular sight these days, Harris responded likewise.
`` Yeah, it has been... good. Miss the taste of a good whiskey though.''
The Man smirked at his new-found acquaintance's feeble attempt at humor.
`` Is that how you died?''
`` W-what?''
`` Whiskey.''
`` Why should I tell you?''
`` Considering that a significant 78 % of the holographic population have alcohol to blame for their demise, I would say so.''
An aggravated Harris started to walk toward the old geezer to teach him a lesson about respecting the dead when he realized that his intangible form would do little to no damage to those still living. He lowered his fist.
The Man, even more amused from the ironic circumstances that he were in, pushed off the wall he was leaning against, swinging his cane.
`` August 23rd, The Fifteenth Cycle. You were the'designated driver','' the old man punctuated with his fingers, `` after a particularly rambunctious party at a seedy establishment. Half drunk from the Jack Daniel's you had just slurped down, an accidental left turn on the Eiffel Turnpike lead to explosive disaster. Luckily, all of your friends escaped with a few scratches. You,'' the old man said as he tapped Harris on the foot, `` not so much.''
Harris collapsed onto the ground, a tsunami of grief and guilt disorienting him. He felt the urge to throw up once more, but his digital gastrointestinal system had nary a kilobyte left to give.
`` How do you know this?'' Harris asked, his eyes bloodshot with blue streaks.
`` Tell me, have you picked a Harness yet?'' the Man inquired mischievously as he circled the heaving Harris, ignoring his question.
`` No, I, I have n't picked a person yet.''
`` Have you ever considered picking me?''
( to be continued )
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[ WP ] Your perception of time affects the progression of time
| Dancing on the grass, the mottled pattern was an infinity of interest. The sound of the wind was a strange symphony that had stretched unknown distances to be there around him. Everything encased him within its fascination. The bark of the tree was pressing on his back, but he could n't quite read its patterns; lack of nerve endings, he told himself, visualising the the fine network of filaments branching through his body.
He was drained before the days began, a strange feedback loop had begun some time ago, and was devouring him. Pressed against the tree, he had not even removed his lunch from the pathetic plastic bag beside him before the sun began to dive towards the horizon, a ferocious thing, it seemed to him now. He could already feel it moving below him, coming up behind him.
He felt nauseous all the time. He went days without eating and could n't remember why. His mind just picked at reality and turned it over with insatiable interest; a suicide machine allowed to run wild. The harder he fought, the harder its reckless gears turned.
His descent had been headlong and wholesome from the moment the other kids figured it out at school, the new and cataclysmic knowledge spread almost instantaneously; it was the inevitable contagion of existence. His parents had tried all the usual therapy sessions and new devices the saturated, ever-booming market had to offer; everything designed to starve his curiosity. His mind consumed it all, nothing was inedible to his intellect. And how it cruelly it made him suffer.
Soon enough, the sun became nothing more than a heavenly pendulum, an ever-accelerating harbinger of doom. Empathy and emotion were mere abstractions to spend months on and off dissecting. He watched his parents wilt like roses; seemed, for all-to-brief eternities, to transcend existence as it hurtled by; understood the whole surface of the ocean by sitting by that tree; and solved patterns in nature spanning decades without ever noting a single observation down. His body gave way and collapsed too quickly to be painful, he stared from his hospital bed for a second out the flickering window, and heard a beep.
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[ WP ] A homeless man has been secretly living inside your house for the last 2 years . He ends up blowing his cover in order to save your life .
| `` Stop! You're Allergic!''
I screamed and dropped the jar of curry, turning in horror to see a face in the vent. falling backwards and into darkness, I collapse to the floor.
I woke up slowly, an ache in the back of my head. Putting my hand to it, instead of hair I felt a bandage. Struggling for focus, I tried to take stock. With some effort, I opened my eyes, squinting against the light. Which means it's daytime, I managed to reason. And I'm in my room, but I was somewhere else... Doing something...
The vent! That voice! Heart thundering I'm on my feet and awake. I grab the statuette on my bed stand and scan the room and see nothing. Cautiously, I moved towards the vent. Step by step, slowly shifting until it's in view. It's empty, thankfully and I breath a sigh of relief. It's short lived, as the tension returns when I realize I do n't have my phone.
Normally, that makes me panic a bit. Now, it felt like a heart attack. Frantically grabbing at my clothes, both on me and the floor, I searched and searched. Under the bed, in the closet, in the laundry basket, everywhere until nearly in tears, I stared at the door.
It must be on the other side. Where that face was. Where whoever put me in bed must be. I was afraid and had no choice. I could n't stay in the room forever and that door would n't save me any more than a blanket would save a child from a monster.
As quietly as possible, I opened the door. My halls creak, but I know all the spots. Stepping along the walls, I moved without a trace of noise. I could hear scraping. It was coming from the kitchen. My heart pounded faster and faster. Sweat began trickle down my face and back and I clutched the statuette tightly in both hands. I'd bought it in Rome, it was a bronze figure of a woman on a square base. I held her upside down by the waist and peered around the next corner.
A man kneeled on the floor, facing away. Something about him was.. familiar? For a moment I forgot myself and stepped out, lowering my hands to my sides. A corner of the statuettes base tapped the wall lightly and the man spun. Eyes wide in shock, he faced me and raised his hands. I'd already swung, the statuette flying through the air collided with his head. A corner struck him in the temple, hard, and he fell back with a crunch. His hand came up to mine, brushing it lightly.
Horrified, I stumbled backwards, dropping what had once been a favorite souvenir. I looked at the spreading blood, covered my face with my hands and cried. Sobbing, I was surprised to taste something sweet. Taking a deep, shaky breath I looked at my hands. The one the man touched had something yellow on it. Clearing my throat, I realized it was my curry. Wiping one hand on my pants and the other across my mouth, I got it off me. Coughing slightly, I moved around his body to the counter, where my phone sat. Clearing my throat again, I picked it up with trembling hands.
`` 911, What is your emergency?''
`` I-gh'' I gasped into the phone, struggling for air. Eyes watering, I can hardly see. Unable to speak I slam my hands and feet against the cupboards, floor, and table. Trying to make a commotion, so they send help.
`` Is anyone there? Are you able to respond?''
Flailing, my foot strikes something soft and for the second time that day I fall backwards into darkness. This time I do n't wake up in bed.
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[ EU ] `` One to embody the power , the other to crave it '' . The Sith apprentice challenges his master , or the master finds him ... disappointing .
| Instinct. Instinct had always been his most powerful weapon and once again, it had saved his life.Darth Aferist crouched low, and looked at the gray smoke emanating from the ground, where he had been standing seconds ago.He looked at the ground where the lightning had struck and then back at the person who had attacked him.A sly smile escaped his lips as he had anticipated this moment for quite some time.
`` Hello Charlie'', he said.
Charlie, or as he was known to the rest of the universe, Darth fury, stared back, hatred building up inside him with every passing second.
`` You knew this was coming master.''
`` Yes.I have been sensing a growing unrest within you my young apprentice. I take it you attacked me to get my attention as the attack was nowhere near fatal and you knew I would sense it.''
`` Yes master. My training is almost complete, but you have been holding me back. You know the anger that drives me. You can sense the rage. You can feel the sheer power that flows through my veins and you fear it. You fear that if I learn to channel it, I will one day become stronger than you.But while you ignored me, I learnt on my own, my way around the force. I reached deep down into my own anger and let out all the angst and rage buried inside me.''
Darth Aferist sighed,'' I was n't holding you back charlie. I have seen the effects of rage. I have witnessed the destruction it brings into your life. If you do not learn to control it, it will subsume you. You are not ready to face yourself yet, how are you going to face me?''
`` I will prove to you today how wrong you are. I will unleash the full power of my fury on you and Ill will prove you wrong'', thundered Darth Fury.
`` Charlie, I am only trying to help you become the great warrior you are ment to be. Please, let me help you. Together, we will achieve the heights of greatness that only few can dream of.''
`` MY NAME IS DARTH FURY'', screamed charlie and charged, the glow of his purple light saber in stark contrast to the green night sky.
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[ WP ] Write about a character who does the right thing for the wrong reasons or one who does the wrong thing for the right reasons .
| March 15, 2014. Good, I hit the right day this time. If only there was another way. But alas, this is the only way to be sure, who knows if we could have another chance.
Ah, here is the room.
He looks so peaceful, laying there, sleeping in his crib. His mother and father asleep in the next room. How can I bring myself to kill, much less kill a child? Best to get it over with quickly. The lives of those millions outweigh the life of this tiny child.
But I ca n't. Not because I think he can be saved, or because he does n't deserve it. I knew from an early age that he was wicked. Good wombs bare bad sons I suppose. I could never hurt my own child.
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[ WP ] You are walking down the street when a stranger bumps into you and shoves a piece of paper into your hand , it appears to be an assassination order detailing the prescribed time , location , and method of death , the only problem is you are n't an assassin .
| `` By nature, I am not a morning person. Upon waking, do not talk to me until I get some strong black coffee and have at least 40 minutes to adjust to the light. You can talk with me after an hour, and I might respond after an hour and a half. Normally having bad sleeping habits does n't change a life, but it certainly changed mine. As I sit here writing, contemplating what I'm about to do, I can only say for certain I wish I had simply shoved the paper away, or just assumed it was some obnoxious boy giving me their number and thrown it away. Instead, being the inquisitive person I am, I read it and entered myself into this mad mess from which there is only one way out. I had just woken up, my alarm had n't gone off, and was sprinting though downtown Manhattan to work when a gentleman in a suit bumped into me, and I found a piece of paper slipped between my hand and my mug of coffee. I was still sprinting, but even so, opened it and read what was inscribed -
`` 18:00 hours, 21 October 2015, Fourth row up, far left, Bloshoi. Bullet from 75 yards, fired from AR 15 which will be mounted above headrest in box 21, reserved under initials P.P.''
I, of course, had no time for such riddles. However, considering as it appeared to be mentioning a bullet fired from an actual gun it shook me up for most of the morning. I was a recently appointed CEO, first woman ever to hold the position in the company, and I had priorities. The only issue being, of course, whoever gave me the note had a reason to give it to me. I contemplated this over lunch, in which my husband found time in his busy days of doing nothing to eat with me. I neglected to mention the morning's events to him, because he'd likely attempt to do something macho and get himself hurt. I was a grown woman, this was a job I had to handle. Lunch ended, and as the afternoon wore on I kept reaching into my pocket, pulling out the note, reading it, and putting it back. It was starting to become a major distraction.
I managed to end the day without looking at it again, only to be fired upon while walking home. I do mean that quite literally. As if from nowhere, I saw a man in a suit step into the clearing, hold his hand to his ear, then raise a pistol and fire. He must have been a good 50 yards off, however his bullets were still close enough for discomfort. Something about the whiz of a lead pellet meant to end your life going right past your ear and singing your hair makes you a little scared for safety. My reaction was initially to scream, but then very quickly that screaming turned into running. Which for me, in high heels, was a little more like a dog with three legs trying to sprint while not tipping over. Fortunately for me, he did not pursue. Nevertheless, as a woman with a normal job and husband, being murdered was not an everyday event. Upon turning the corner, I called 911 and screamed in a way that was not very dignified. Looking back on it, what transpired was most certainly scary for the younger me. That does n't change the fact I had no control over the situation, and could n't accept that fact being a woman who was always in control. By the end of the day, half the police on the block had come to find three bullet holes in a wall and no murderer alongside a screaming and somewhat hysterical woman.
This was all six months ago, today being October 21st. The message that had been slipped to me disappeared from my purse the next day at work, which only lead me to believe the murder attempt was simply to get the orders back. Unfortunately, I had taken a picture of it with my phone and still had it. I forgot about it after a month, but then recently, a week ago, I looked at it again while browsing old photos. Bolshoi... that sounded familiar... A quick google search brought up Bolshoi Opera House in Moscow. Interestingly enough it also brought up a CNN article in regards to Bolshoi's hosting of a UN convention. Both Obama, Putin, and for the first time ever, Kim Jong Un would be attending said event. My heart started racing, I flicked back and forth between the two messages. `` reserved under initials P.P.''
My initials... They were P.P. How had I not realized that six months ago? I know not, however I instantly left my office, told my secretary I was going to be out for two weeks on personal business, and booked a flight to Moscow. I did n't tell my husband where I was going, heaven forbid he start worrying about me. He had his own problems to deal with, this was n't any of his concern. Tonight, the evening of the 21st, I find myself sitting here writing this letter. I hope all goes as planned, however if it does n't...
Tony, I love you, sorry for not letting you in.
Hopefully nobody has to read this,
P.P.''
Pepper sealed the envelope, pressed it with a personal Stark Industries seal, and set it on the sideboard. She then rose, slid her personal sidearm into a vest pocket and set out for the Opera.
Pepper arrived at the opera and checked in without much incident. Box 21 turned out to be on the far right, directly across from the box in which the `` to be assassinated'' would be sitting. The Opera started slowly filling, and Pepper became increasingly aware of her surroundings. As the hour neared 18:00, or 6:00 PM, she slowly slid the AR 15 out of the headrest, emptied its clip, and returned it to its position. She then crouched down in the corner, pistol in hand, and waited for the assassin to arrive. The minutes started slipping by. 30 minutes before 18:00, the Opera started. Heads of state sat upright, entranced in the music and enjoying the moment. Kim Jong Un, amazingly, was on time and took his place in the box directly across from Pepper's. Pepper contemplated why one would want to take out the most harmless dictator to ever hold office in North Korea, however she did n't have much time to think about it. The hour was now due to change in 2 minutes, and the assassin had not yet arrived. Her breathing deepened and her pulse shot up.
A glint, a sparkle, from onstage. A laser just above Kim Jong Un's box. Focused on Obama's forehead. Pepper sprang to her feet, grabbed the mag from the AR and loaded it, and shoved it into the clip. She had taken only a brief moment at the gun range to learn how to operate such a huge rifle, however with her trembling hands it took even longer to get the gun in position to fire. The laser... it had moved. It was now originating from behind Kim's enormous stomach, the perfect cover. The gunman was evidently working along with North Korean royalty to assassinate the leader of the free world. Without hesitating, Pepper lined up the scope and took the shot.
Blood everywhere, Kim Jong Un fell to his side, and a man behind him toppled over, his weapon firing as a dead finger pulled the trigger. The bullet went high, shattering the glass above Obama's head. Secret Service agents went berserk, covering the President with their bodies and moving him quickly out of the room. CIA agents quickly kicked in the North Korean suite, and Pepper's soon after.
After weeks of interrogation, it was concluded Pepper had managed to save the President's life, however was guilty of bringing firearms in a secure location, and not disclosing matters of national security. She was given a full pardon of her crimes by the President personally, and was given no prison time.
Later, when discussing all the events with Tony, he turned to her and laughed.
`` That was YOU who fired that weapon?''
He rolled up his sleeve, to reveal a scar in his left bicep. He said, `` you certainly hit something, but it was n't Kim Jong Un. That message you found? That was from a North Korean defector, who slipped it to you hoping you'd pass it on to me. If you ever bothered to read the back, it said `` to the attention of Tony Stark. That, of course, I found out after Jarvis caught it on the house's security system. I had the situation under control, obviously, so yeah. Saved the world again.''
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[ WP ] Have someone in your story finish the macabre song `` sew , sew , sew your throat '' .
| Captain Stennish blinked his eyes open, particles of lifeless sand falling around his dry face. He wiped his lids free of the infernal dirt, sighed, and strapped his goggles on. The suns had been up for half an hour; it came pouring through the bits of fabric draped over his cabin in streams of gold. The rising heat was already starting to remind him of how thirsty he was. The wind whistles atop his cabin were gently singing, but underneath them Stennish could hear a raspier voice singing a different tune; Flemann was on deck, probably carving a new story into his shield while he awaited Stennish's awakening. Stennish hoisted himself up, downed the rest of his water canteen from yesterday, and pushed through his textile doorway, birthing himself into the bright sand world that was his prison.
> *Sew, sew, sew your throat
Gently'cross the seam
Wearily, wearily, wearily, wearily
One more day for me*
Flemann did n't look up as Stennish walked from his cabin to the empty card bench, where the singing man was busy gently scraping away chips of iron-cactus-wood with an ancient chisel and knife. Sitting across from him, Stennish cocked his head to see what it was that his first mate was carving into his shield this time. It was a symmetrical pair of swirls that came down at the centre, in a sort of V shape.
`` That a virgin cunt?'' asked Stennish, his voice grovelly.
`` Huh?'' Flemann grunted, just noticing Stennish's presense. `` Oh, good mornin', Captain. What's that you's sayin'?''
`` That there. What you carving now?''
`` It's me home. Browpool.'Ave you ever been to Browpool, Captain? back on old Earth? Those two swirls there are what my folk called'The Sockets'β''
`` May I remind you, Mr. Flemann, that we do not speak of Earth on my ship.'' Flemann recoiled and put down his chisel and knife.
`` Begging your pardon, sir. I meant no offense, swear it I did n't.''
`` I know Mr. Flemann. It's just, we are going to be here a long time, and I'd rather not be reminded of Earth if I can help it. So, if any of the other crew mates ask what this new carving of yours is about, just say it's a virgin cunt.''
`` Yes sir! Er, other crew matesβ¦ sirβ''
`` Good.'' Stennish stood from the card table and went to look overboard. `` Now, Mr. Flemann,'' he spoke to the wind abroad, knowing that his first mate had left the card table and his carving behind and was now listening intently for orders. Stennish scanned over the banister of the ship and was greeted with that same, never ending sea of white sand. `` Are we still on our heading? The sea is beautiful today, if only it was possible to drink that glistening blue! Where are the rest of the crew? I should be hearing the heave-hoing by now.''
Flemann knew something was wrong then. He was taken aback when the Captain had mentioned the other crew members, for they had long been butchered for their bloodwater; had Captain Stennish forgotten? Had he not felt the crunch of his old crew's knucklebones beneath his boots as he left his cabin this morning? Stennish sounded serious about the `` glistening blue'', as if all that he saw before him was the deep blue sea just like the one he grew up on in New Venice, Earth.
`` Mr. Flemann?'' Stennish turned to his befuddled-looking first mate.
Just then, Flemann's confusion was interrupted by an alarming sight on the horizon. `` Captain! Contact! Vessel!''
`` What?'' Stennish turned to see a dark green rectangular sand-ship on the horizon where he had just been looking, fast-approaching. `` So it is! Everyone hop to! All crew on deck!'' He practically skipped to the helm. `` Crow's nest, friend or foe?''
Flemann already had his binoculars out, disregarding that the crow's nest boys were the first to lose their bloodwater to the Captain's thirst. Through the digital view in the binoculars, Flemann could make out the name underneath the more advanced ship's bridge. The banner they flew was olive green.
`` I ca n't read the name, Captain! Starts with a'B', I think!''
`` Nevermind the name, Crow! What colours are the banner?''
`` Olive! Solid!'' cried Flemann. The ship was closer now, much closer. Soon, Flemann would n't have an excuse to the Captain to not be able to read the ship's name other than the truth that he could n't read.
`` That's a salvage vessel. *The Flotsam*! You're a shite Crow if even I can read that from here!''
`` Apologies sir. They'll make contact with us in less than a minute! Orders?''
Stennish ran a hand through his greasy hair. He came down from the helm deck and grabbed Flemann by the collar. `` We fight. For whatever water they've got.'' The dry rotten stench of his breath made Flemann's stomach curl in on itself. He released Flemann and went into his cabin to retrieve his crossbow and rifle.
`` Aye.'' Flemann grabbed his own crossbow, shield, and knife.
In his cabin, Stennish threw clutter around to find some extra bolts and maybe some more drops of water. He knew he had less than thirty seconds before interception, but he *needed* some more water, if this was going to be a fight. He found a white bowl with two mouthfuls of water left, which he gulped greedily before wiping his mouth and stuffing his crossbow bolts in their quiver. He thought about searching ten more seconds for more water.
`` Captain!'' shouted Flemann from outside. No time. Stennish burst forth from his cabin, rifle and crossbow in either hand, a bit of water streaming down his chin.
`` Hello, Father,'' spoke a dark-haired woman whose features, outshined by the suns behind her, Stennish could not make out. She held Flemann in a choke hold, his own knife to his jugular, and three other similarly outfitted women stood, rifles brandished, at her flanks.
`` What?'' Stennish scowled into the glare of the suns.
`` Sand madness does n't do you well, Daddy-o. But it seems like you've been having enough to drink, at least.''
`` What? ``, again, was all the dazed Captain could say.
`` You've got a bit of blood running down your chin, you know.''
T. B. C.
|
[ WP ] Mundane Monday : It was a perfect fall day .
| I love this, but it does n't work.
I sat and thought. This could be the thing that takes me to the right place for once, but its not working.
I heard a chiming in the background, sort of like a Theremin or is it a pan flute? The mescaline seemed to be swirling in my head now, I could feel a slight charge to my skin that started deep in my brain and would flash out to the outer extremities of this epidural waste coat Im wearing. There are the words to describe it, somewhere. Im not interested in that though. I look out the window as lightening slowly moves across the sky, the kind that hangs under the clouds and does n't make a sound.
|
[ WP ] You are the sole author of a popular conspiracy blog . Lately , your blog has been publishing posts without you .
| It had been almost two days and Alec Owens still could n't sleep. It seemed like the establishment was finally hunting him down.
That had to be it. What else could it be? For the past decade he had been a warrior for the truth, dedicated to exposing the shadowy elite to the brainwashed masses. His blog, KnowledgeBattles.com, had enabled him to amass millions of followers who now hinged on his every word. Just as they needed him, he needed them too, his livelihood now being helped along by their generous donations.
Curiously enough, despite working tirelessly to undermine their evil plots, they had never made any attempt he could think of to silence him. Even when he ran his great exposΓ© of children being turned gay by helium in party balloons - he thought he'd be sinking to the ocean floor with his feet caked in cement in no time with that one.
But now they were finally doing it, and it now only seemed to be a case of counting down the days before they put a bag over his head and shipped him off to the local FEMA camp. He could pinpoint exactly when it started; just last Monday he was refreshing the front page of his blog ( as he did habitually, so he would know straight away when the FBI seized the domain ) when he saw that a new article had just been published. How was this possible? No one else was allowed to publish on his site. After all, he was the only one who could be trusted - any other editors might be payed shills! But now it seemed that the disinformation agents were n't even polite enough to ask for his permission anymore.
The headline stared back at him, clear as the sky. What made it so unusual was that it seemed just like something Alec himself would write. If he did n't have such an amazing memory ( the lizardmen's gamma rays must not be able to scramble his brains as much ) then it's possible that even he himself would n't have noticed anything was wrong. But there it was:
`` POPE FRANCIS PAYED BY CIA TO TURN VATICAN INTO MOSQUE!''
While Alec immediately agreed with what was written, he still felt uncomfortable that he had no memory of writing it. Maybe the fluoride in the water he drank had given him a small bout of amnesia? Whatever it was, Alec thought nothing of it and went to bed. But for Alec, this was only the beginning...
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[ WP ] Death has been eradicated . War , however , has not .
| `` Your gate key, Death.''
The Gatekeeper stood before the decaying husk of a man, a shell of the once powerful avatar of death. It would seem that this assassination mission was too difficult for him; then again, he was the most incompetent of the Horsemen.
`` Are n't you going to do anything to help him, sir?''
The current avatar of War stood before him, begging with teary eyes to rejuvenate his dying partner. The other two Horsemen Conquest and Famine laid crouched, unmoving and unsympathetic.
`` It is beyond my power to resuscitate him from near `` death.'' He has fulfilled his mission to the best of his ability and will now pass on into the unknown. Whether there is an afterlife or not, we do not know; we can only assume that Jason Gray can have a peaceful end.''
`` And now, I ask for the second and final time, your gate key, Death.''
The dying, decaying hands of a man burdened by the lives of hundreds grasped his gate key for the final time. He hands it to the man in gold, then slowly dissipates from the room.
`` And now we must find another, but do n't worry, I already have someone in mind. It will be your job to watch over your new member Kiran. Treat her well.''
A holographic projection appeared, showing a tortured girl with brown hair and blue eyes lying in a jail cell.
The golden man prepared the jump portal, ready to put on his recruiting face.
He walked through the portal and stopped time, reaching his hand out from the golden portal.
`` Thannat Grace, I will give you a once in a lifetime opportunity. Whether or not you choose to listen to my next words is completely up to you.''
**Check out the Rainfall Testament on Fictionpress for more of these.
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[ WP ] Scientists are elated to announce the return of a previously unknown planet with a massive orbit , after an absence of thousands of years - but no one could have predicted the consequences of its approach .
| It came back to us.
I press a thick glove to the glass. Even through the sealing and double plating and suit I can feel all the cold. Even through all that I can feel *Erebus*.
I run through sys.check on orbital departure. Double then triple check that I'm leaving the planet's atmosphere. That nothing's gone wrong that will force me to stay any longer in the thing's orbit. All lights on sys.check hold green and I let engine impulses cycle through, punching the ship out of orbit, deadheading back to earth. The G's are rough, screaming me back into my chair but I tilt my head slightly, peer out the corner of my eye through the side panel window. Watch the planet as its minutiae and details boil down to nothing, indistinct darkness on a starless globe. A map unlit.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
9
A ninth planet. Gone for so long, sent so far on its orbit, come back to us.
A voice on my coms, coming through as shards of sound. Riddled with static by distance, time and cosmic interference. Earth orbital control. I can not make out the words, not yet. I do n't think I ever will. I do n't think it will ever let me get close enough. Two of the sys.check's lights flare orange. *It's all wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. * *The planet's desity is all wrong, oh god, there's not enough fuel to break grav pull. Oh god... *
More lights sliding from green to red, more shuddering as the rockets burn themselves up, more sirens screaming as the G force relents. As the ship falls back in orbit. I want to scream, to cry but I do n't. I never truly believed it would let me go. *Any of us, go. *
As the ship slides back into the darkened planet's grasp I think of what awaits me. Think of my landing. Of my boot pressing into too-damp soil, earth that had been only lit by strange and alien stars for millennia.
I think of the buildings. Those horrific, shrapnel structures, rising up like broken bone through the planet's flesh. Of how our sun - *its* first sun's orange light gleamed off their slick and oozing exterior. *How many? * How many of those dark and sunless cities had I walked through, unable to report back to Earth Orbital Control. Unable to warn them. Unable to tell them about the bodies standing in those structures, staring out from darkness at me.
Unable to tell of the things that lived in those bodies.
Unable to tell them that one of them had been waiting for me back at the landing site. Unable to tell them that it looked and smelt and spoke, like my wife. My wife who passed seven years ago.
Unable to tell them what Erebus was. That they had come back to us...
The dead.
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[ WP ] You stumble upon your old high school yearbook . After flipping through the pages for a while , you realize that every senior quote had a prophetic impact on that person 's life .
| When I first pulled it out of the box in my attic, I had to do a double take. It seemed so familiar. It was an object of such fondness to me that it suddenly seemed I'd had it by my side all of these years.
But I had n't. Not really. It'd been up here, in the box of memories like the rest of my aging junk. Nestled there, amongst the skateboard and roller blades, between the paintings I'd done when I was 15. The pages still felt crisp, despite all the times I'd read the book through the years when I'd missed those formative years.
Here it was, my school yearbook. Chock full to the brim with pictures of people I'd called friends. Some who I'd called my enemies, too. A tome that I'd taken with me to college and even now remained. Even with me moving to a new house with my second wife, it was still stored in the attic instead of discarded in the trash like most people's memories.
I heard Erica shouting for me from downstairs. Hurrying me along, reminding me the moving van was on its way and the boxes needed to be downstairs. I looked around at the empty attic.
*What the hell? * I thought. *I'm ahead of schedule. * I plonked myself down and opened the book with a gusto I'd not felt in weeks. Even the thought of the new house paled in comparison to a trip along nostalgia lane.
I opened it randomly and smiled as the pages fell open to reveal a girl who was very familiar to me. I grinned inwardly and gave a nervous glance over my shoulder, down through two flights of stairs to where my new wife was clearing out our kitchen.
There she was, Shirley Cassini. My first. Preserved forever in the photograph, she looked as delicious as ever. Blonde, blue eyes. Great body. I gave another quick, unsure glance over my shoulder even though I knew Erica was n't there. I let my mind drift back to Shirley and me in my dad's car, which I'd stolen one night and driven to her house. That look on her face when she realised what a'rebel' i was.
It was a far cry away from Ikea furniture, second wife Erica and my comfortable job. *Did I really steal his car? Did Shirley really do all that stuff to me? * I smiled again at the memory. Wild days.
Then I noticed the quote under her photograph. We'd been told to discuss what we thought of our futures. What we wanted from life. Shirley, the beautiful popular girl in school, had went with something pretty predictable.
*Shirley Cassini - I'm not going to be happy until I'm famous. You'll all remember me for being a star. *
*Odd*. I thought. Shirley had actually done quite well. She'd become an actress in a reality programme about our area and then married a pretty wealthy golf pro. Now she was hot property in reality TV and had a show about her. I did n't watch it, she had n't aged well and I preferred my memories of her intact.
I flicked the pages again. A familiar face. A hulking guy I used to go to wrestling practice with.
*Trevor Mellor - Hey Julia. If I ca n't have you I'll go crazy. Love Trev. *
I smirked at first. Cheeky of him to include a message to Julia Kravitz, a girl in the year below us but who would obviously have read it. After all, she helped put the yearbooks together.
My smirk vanished as I remembered a reunion a few years back. Trevor had n't been there. People had whispered to each other about it until one guy had told me that Trevor and Julia had dated, then married.
Then they'd divorced and Trevor had shot himself.
I stared down at the words. *'' I'll go crazy'' * They said. I looked at the young guy's face, full of humour and zest. I tried to match that up with a guy who might shoot himself after a divorce and came up short. Even my own divorce had n't made me feel quite that low.
In a haze now, I flicked forward to another page. This time the face was very familiar. My best friend, Danny Garbett, giving his best cocky fuck-you grin from our childhood days. We'd been like chalk and cheese for years after high school... Even when Danny started climbing high in the autotrading business. We'd still been inseparable up until the cancer. It pained me to look at his grinning face and remember the skeletal one I'd said goodbye to in the hospital.
I looked at the quote and my chest fell like an anchor had dropped onto it.
*Danny Garbett - I'm so good that only a deadly illness will ever stop me reaching the top! *
Three quotes. Three truths.
I began to panic. I looked down at the young face of my friend and then started racing through the pages. Through the pictures of people who were both alive and dead. Immortal youth accompanied by seemingly harmless quotes.
Quotes that all looked true.
Even though I shook my head and told myself it was a coincidence, every single page brough new truths with it. Here was an entry by Todd Williams -'You'll all be voting for me someday.' Now he was a politician and soon to be a senator. There was Marie Glanville.'Live well, broaden scope and chase your dreams.' The girl became a travel writer. I owned a few of her books.
As I frantically thumbed through pages, with sweat beading on my neck and pooling on the back of my shirt, I looked around the darkness of the empty attic. This used to be my home. Now it'd be someone elses. This yearbook used to be all of us, immortalised as happy-go-lucky kids. Now it had become a fortune teller.
The page opened at my lap and I looked down at it. I squinted at the stranger there. Biker jacket. Mullet. Rebellious scowl.
There I was. The guy who'd had sex with Shirley in the back of his dad's car. A stranger to me now, two-wives removed and a couple of life-changing career hops.
I looked down at the quote and my mouth opened involuntarily.
*Nathan Tate - Live fast, die young. Screw the future, I wo n't make it past 50. *
*You stupid little punk, * I thought to myself. *What were you thinking? *
My hands trembled as I closed the book and put it back in the box. I could hear my new wife calling me down above the rumble of the moving van. I thought of our new house. Of the big back garden and long summer nights we'd planned there.
I dumped the yearbook in the box and and turned away, back to my new wife and my comfortable life. Away from the teenage rebel in the picture, in the book of corpses and prophecies. I turned off the light with one last glance at the box, lurking in the darkness. I left it in there. The words contained in the pages hidden away from everyone.
Next week is my fiftieth birthday.
|
[ WP ] You try to make a deal with the Devil , he refuses your soul as payment .
| Hades laughed. `` You'll have to do better than that.''
`` What's that suppose to mean?'' I said, hurt. I offered him my soul.
`` Look little girl, you humans all die eventually. You're soul will be mine. So what will it be? What do I get if I give you the power you wish for.''
`` What's it worth to you?'' I huffed. I want to be a powerful thinker of Athene. I want men to fear my name, Aspasia.
`` It's not worth anything to me. None of this silly human affair stuff is. What is it worth to you.'' He grinned.
`` I'm not sure.''
`` You're first born? No. Something else.... ohhh how about love?''
`` Pardon?''
`` The ability to love, yes. I'll take that as payment. I've always wanted to see what a woman would do without love.''
Hades grabbed me, pulling love from my chest. Heat fled my body. In an instant, He was gone. I felt an lightness about me. Then I got on with my day.
|
[ CW ] Grab the book closest to you , turn to page 50 and write a Prompt on the first full sentence on the page . Reveal the book at the end .
| He chambered another round.
The Obersoldat reported something in bruising German. Yune waited a half-second, then the sentence chirped again in his ear, in perfect Merchant.
`` They've rounded up more in the village square.'' Yune nodded, waved him away, selected a reply with a subtle eye movement.
`` Mach weiter so,'' he parroted. The Obersoldat nodded.
The bodies palely cuddled, in lovers' heaps, with strings of red leaking from round crimson kisses on foreheads, on temples, on cheeks. Here and there, one would shudder. Another would sigh and settle a little lower.
Yune's leather boots, bright and black, gleamed in the morning's greyness. It would rain, the earbud told him. At Yune's feet, a weeping figure knelt.
`` ProszΔ, jestem ojcem,'' his hands were tied, so he titled his head forward and tears dripped from his face. Yune blinked sharply to silence his earbud. He traced the line of the man's shaved skull with his luger. Making a light rustle as it rubbed against the stubble. The steel would be cold, Yune could see his breath. His fine leather gloves creaked as he tightened his grip.
`` ProszΔ!'' The man burst. `` ProszΔ! ProszΔ! ProszΔ!'' He repeated until the two syllables blended into one. Until the word became unintelligble sobbing. Yune crouched beside the man's ear. His fellows were heaped in front of him. Some old. Some young enough for school.
`` This is history, this all just history.'' Yune did not bother to translate. His earpiece tittered and yellow stencils preached'caution' at the edge of his vision.
He stood sharply.
`` This was n't racism; this was experience.'' The snap of a pistol shot spooked distant birds and sent them flapping.
When the Obersoldat returned, only the bodies remained.
-- -Tina Fey, Bossypants
|
[ WP ] At the end of a great battle , someone realizes he/she/it has been fighting for the wrong side .
| The signs were there, but I chose to ignore them. Now I lay here, in defeat. My world is in ruins and I owe it to my brethren to make amends and rebuild what we once had. I vow to make a change in myself, from this day forward I will live by these words; `` Bro's before ho's''. I fought valiantly to get out of the friend zone, but my efforts were in vain. I should have known that she would never leave her boyfriend for me, but I could n't accept it as the truth. `` You deserve better'' I would say, and she would smile. Her smile is burned into my brain, but soon I will wash away the blood, sweat and tears I have put into this one sided friendship with shots of Jameson and whatever beer is on special tonight. I will push onward, I shall buy my friends a round and they will forgive me, for we have all once fallen down this road at least once. I will remove her number from my phone, and one day from my memory.
|
[ WP ] End with the sentence : `` I put the key in the ignition , saw it was out of gas , and realized right then that I was about to die . ''
| I sat there, in the cold damp room, with my back up against the door, hating myself for leaving the others like that. But who could blame me with that thing out there? I knew we should n't have messed with it. I told them, and now look at them- they β re all gone. Tommy, Kat, Steve, Beth, fuck, even Beth. I should have protected them but I was weak and scared, too afraid of dying to save the girl I love. β I β m so pathetic β, I said slowly under my heavy breath. I reach into my pocket to pull out the locket she wore around her neck. Fuck! Why! As I threw the ring across the room, not realizing how loud I was, I hear movementβ¦ Oh no, it β s heard me. A slam hits the door, almost pushing me off. I scramble to my fee and try holding the door but I realize it β s no use. I β m not strong enough to hold this door forever. I head deafening screams on the other side and hen silence. My heart starts to pound, waiting for what β s about to happen. I look over my shoulder to see my car! It β s just sitting there, but where are my keys? I feel my pocket and I hear them jingle. Oh thank God! I have a choice now, to stay here and die or make a run for it. An eerie silence came from the outside. β Fuck it β, I mumbled and ran for the window. But just as I take a few steps, it breaks open the door. I jump fro the window, feeling it breathing down my neck. *Crash*. I hit ground rolling. Oh shit, I made it. I pop to my feet, brushing the glass of me not looking back, hoping it wasn β t still after me. I get to my car, hands fumbling they keys, but I finally get in the door. β It β s coming β, I thought to myself. I throw my door open and get inside. I put the key in the ignition and turn it. *click* *click* *click* *click*. Nothing, it was dead. Fuck I β m out of gas, and that β s when I realized I was going to die.
Or- Nothing, it was deadβ¦ and now, so was Iβ¦
P.s first post guys so go easy on me
|
[ WP ] While on your Urban daily commute through the subway to work , like any other day , white bold text appears in front of your vision reading : Mission 1 : Escape the city .
| Wait a minute... Escape the city...
I turned my head a few times. The text did n't move. It was in my head.
Am I going crazy?
The text moved to the upper left of my field of vision, so it was away from where I was looking. At least now I could actually see what the hell I was looking at.
It still did n't explain everything. Why does my brain want me to escape the city, and why is it making it into a game?
I got off the subway, still mulling over the important questions. It was n't doing a good job, I still do n't have a mini-map. But I still apparently have to Escape the city.
I'll think about it at work.
Then my phone rang, it was my wife. `` Hello.''
`` FRANK!'' she screamed. `` WHY THE HELL IS THERE AN RV IN OUR DRIVEWAY AND DOES IT HAVE TO DO WITH THE FACT WE'RE NOW *40,000 IN DEBT?!?!?! *''
`` Baby, I can explain everything.'' Can I?
`` I do n't want you to explain anything. I DO N'T WANT YOU TO TALK TO ME! ALL I WANT IS TO RUN YOUR ASS OVER WITH THIS *MOTHERFUCKING RV!!! *''
The line went dead.
Right. Yup. Escape the city. Got it.
|
[ WP ] You are the only thing that exists , reality as we know it is merely a delusion you created to deal with the loneliness .
| I said, `` let there be light,'' and there was light.
I created a great oasis in the Void. A small blue marble in the universe where I could build. After eons of darkness, and so many great failures -- desolate spheres of sulfur and ash --, finally, something beautiful.
I bathed in her waters and I drank in her clear, clean air. I sat on the mountainside and I said, `` I can not be the only one to see this.'' And so I created Man.
Adam.
He loved me. And I him. But I failed him, and he left My sight and hid behind the leaves. And so it has been, for millennia. And they kill each other, and they kill My oasis, and they kill Me.
And still I love them.
They come to Me, and say, `` What can You do for me!''
And I say, `` Nothing. Nothing at all, because I can not help Myself.''
I want to help them, but I know that they're not really there. They're only characters in My head. They have wants, and needs, and destinies. But they're not real. Not like I AM. They're only mortal and they do n't know the depth of the Void. They do n't know the darkness that awaits them outside of this blue marble.
And I know that they are lonely and only wish for Me to come tell them that they are not alone. But they are! Because they are Me. And I AM the loneliest of them. None of them love like I love. Or forgive like I forgive.
And thus they shall keep begging forgiveness and I shall keep denying them. They are the murderers of the women, and children, and themselves. And I can not help them.
Because I can not help Myself.
|
[ FF ] A day in the life of a vending machine . ( Feedback for every response ) ( 500 words or less )
| Gloomy silence fills these halls every night. It β s miserable. At least during the day, people walk past me, even if they don β t stop. I never get much attention, anymore. There β s a β health-nut β craze nowadays in the office; my gluttonous chocolate offerings have too much sugar, calories, and guilt for my patrons. So, they β ll only push my buttons if they β deserve a treat β, or they are having an β eat-whatever-I-want β day. I hear all sorts of excuses, but I β m not one to judge. It might be selfish, sure, but I long for the touch of their calloused fingers on my number pads. I suck up their money greedily, reveling in whir, and in an instant my gears wind and chime out their fix. Sometimes I make mistakes; a candy bar will get caught up in my innards, and I won β t dispense it. Or, I β ll eat their money too quickly and will be unwilling to cough it back up if they change their minds. People don β t remember the perks β sometimes, I β ll give out TWO candy bars for the price of one! I do this when I β m feeling particularly lonely, hoping they β ll tell their friends. But, instead, they β re disgusted. They β ll mutter further about their inadequacies with their weights, their caloric intakes, and even will shove both candy bars into the trash! My kindness is wasted, my mechanical heart is broken.
Bring Your Child to Work Day is my Christmas. Parents, eager to keep their children satiated and well-behaved, line up in droves for my sugary gold. Young eyes stare up at the world of choices before them, only separated by a glass lining and a dollar. Wondrous giggles are emitted, some will even press their ear up against me to take in every clink and clank of my efforts. I wish I had been placed in a school, or a move theater, or an amusement park; there, I β d get the love I crave. Instead, here, I β m a nuisance. A detour. My candy is a hindrance, my glow a taunting reminder of the perils of adulthood. I feel so alone.
Oh, who is this? It β s the restock man! Wow, it β s been so long since I β ve seen him. Wait, he doesn β t have any candy for me. Instead, he has some weird cart, like a dolly. And he has a toolbox. What is he doing? Maybe I have a glitch I haven β t noticed. I have been feeling a little funny, latelyβ¦
He β s staring at me, a look of sadness lurking in his gaze. What β s wrong? I β m so confused, maybe a candy bar will help you, sir! But nay, he β s shaking his head, and is moving behind me. What is he doing? I feel his hand gripping my electrical plug. Stop, don β t touch there, that cord keeps me alive! I β ve been unappreciative, sure, but don β t do this. You can change my food selection, I β ll gladly carry granola bars and mixed nuts. I β ll work out my kinks, I promise! Please don β t pull the plβ¦
|
[ WP ] Every local criminal gang is terrified of your best friend for some reason .
| β Wait, you don β t want our money after all? β I was drunk, but not drunk enough to believe that these gangsters were about to let us off scot free.
β No, no, no. β The man shook his head violently. His eyes kept creeping toward Kim. β I β m sorry for troubling you, please, just let me be. β
β But, why? β Most would β ve just walked away and thanked their lucky stars, but this wasn β t the first time it had happened to me. Compton was not a nice place, even worse for a skinny white boy from the suburbs. I imagined it was even worse for my best friend Kim, a tiny white girl from New Hampshire. So, getting mugged was just another part of our lives, until recently.
The gangster dropped the gun with a clatter and fell to his knees. His head slammed the ground so hard I was afraid he β d knock himself out. β Please! Forgive me! β
I had no words.
β Guys, β the gangster on the ground whispered loudly. β Get on the fucking floor too. β
I watched in amazement as his friends did the same. Knives and guns clanged onto the ground in a small stream.
β Push-ups, β Kim said, her usual sweet voice with a dark undertone.
β Kim, what are you saying? β I wanted to say, but to my surprise, the gangsters started doing push-ups. His eyes were saucers and tears fell from his face. Even his friend with a belly I didn β t think allowed for push-ups started doing them.
β I β m sorry, β the gangster grunted with every push-up.
β Jake, we should get out of here. β Kim nudged me in the ribs.
I barely felt it. My mouth lay open as I stared at the gangsters, their arms trembling as they squeezed out the last of their strength through push-ups.
β Jakeβ¦ β Her words were just an echo of an echo.
β What did you do? β I turned my surprised stare to Kim. She had never looked weaker in her little black dress and high heels. But somehow, I was more scared of her than the men with prison tattoos and weapons.
β I β ll explain everything to you. I swear. Please, stay with me. β She used the same voice she had used when begging my favorite foods from me for so many years. It no longer held the same effect.
β Ma β am, β the gangster interrupted, his arms shaking with strain. β I β m so sorry, β he squeezed out of his throat. β But my arms won β t push anymore. Please don β t β β
β Shut the fuck up! β Kim screamed at him.
The gangster squealed and pushed himself up. He immediately brought his body down in preparation for the next push-up. Most his friends were crying now, one had a puddle forming beneath his pants.
β Jake, β Kim β s voice sounded like a lullaby. β Walk me home. I β ll give you a prize, β she said with a wink.
β No, β I shook my head while slowly backing away from her. Normally, I would β ve jumped at the opportunity, but this was not the Kim I knew. β Stay away from me. β I turned to leave.
β Jake! β Kim yelled in the same tone she used with the gangsters. β Nobody says no to me. β
I froze. Her voice held such power.
β Push-ups. β
|
[ WP ] Two kids sneak into the family 's self-driving car and tell it to go to the other end of the country .
| I would n't say I was in love with Brenna. While she certainly was n't ugly she was n't the most beautiful girl. She was a little thicker and dressed like an old lamp shade in grandma's basement on her best days, but we'd known each other since 2nd grade and she was more or less one of the guys.
It all started when my parents were out of town. I decided to have a few friends over. We were going to play some COD and Assassins Creed and maybe some FIFA and Madden. It was most just going be me hanging out with Mike and Trey and Brenna as well as one friend they could bring, as per our usual rules. Unfortunately Mike and his big mouth and delusions of Grandeur invited about 20 more people than needed, mostly his friends from the LaCrosse team and a few others including my crush Sarah Coleman.
I do n't know how Sarah knew Mike and it did n't seem like she was with any of the LaCrosse players as far as I could tell. I'd only talked with her a few times, but I knew she was single. She told me herself one day in math. However in a few minutes i'd find out differently. See I'd decided to talk to Sarah and my plan was to show her my dad's new self driving car. A brand new 2024 Cadillac Escalade. Of course what I did n't know was that she was dating one of the LaCrosse players if you call dating sitting by yourself watching him drink Fireball with the other boys eyeing other girls. But i'm sure she tolerated it because it was Shaun Houlihan, who was simply known as `` Sexy Beast'' though his personality was quite beastly too.
Anyway I chatted up Sarah more and within three minutes the `` Sexy Beast'' came and started to swing at me. Fortunately his dumbo friends also started yelling and cheering him on when good old Mike came up and told them to leave. It did n't work at first but it was enough time to make a getaway. I then saw Brenna in the kitchen making a sandwich.
`` Rough night?''
`` Yeah'' I said to her.
She was taking huge bites out of her sandwich which was Peanut Butter. Just then I heard a ruckus in the hall towards the kitchen. Just then I asked quickly if Brenna wanted to see the Escalade.
She barely got out a yes when I pushed her out the door and into the garage and we opened the car door and hid. We pulled a seat down to cover us up but fortunately Mike must have used his skills to persuade the asshats on the lacrosse team to leave. As I tried to get up I soon fell to the floor again as Brenna jumped on top of me.
`` I think we need to stay down'' she told me.
`` Why?''
Then she tightened her grip and soon started going crazy.
`` Because i've had the hugest crush on you since..... forever''
Honestly, I could n't resist. She was into it and I did n't really want to say no. Plus for some reason I thought she looked rather good tonight with some tighter than usual jeans and an even tighter shirt. Just then I heard a crash.
`` I'm gon na find that mother....''
Just then Brenna got up and pushed a button. The garage door went up and she told the car to back up and go out of the driveway.
`` Lets go to 1411 Sycamore Drive''
`` That's your house is n't it?'' i asked.
`` Yeah. My parents wo n't be home yet. I think they had to go grocery shopping. We have time. And hey, just so you know the whole crush thing was just kind of a heat of the moment thing.''
I stood their with my jaw open and then gave her an angry look.
`` What the hell is wrong with you?'' I asked.
`` Look I do n't know I do think you are like awesome but I also think I might like Tanner Grodken.''
`` That douche?''
Tanner Grodken was probably the biggest fake hipster in our school and always seemed to find ways to make himself look like an ass. I was kind of surprised Brenna was interested.
`` But I do n't know. I mean Tanner asked me out and I mean he's okay.''
`` He's a douche.''
`` Just because he made you shit your pants with Exlax two years ago.''
`` It's not that. I mean he's a complete fake. Like all those liberal causes he loves. He's just into that to seem like he's some fake hipster. Plus he like hates Trey. He thinks Trey's an asshole.''
`` Trey is an asshole. I mean he's our group's asshole but I mean I can see why. Trey's got thin skin.''
`` More like people wo n't leave him alone but whatever.''
`` So how are we gon na explain that you took my parents car?'' I asked.
`` I do n't know?''
I told Brenna to tell the car to go back home but then she got a crazy look in her eye.
`` Hey I got a crazy idea. I was thinking lets go on a road trip. I mean its a friday night and we have Columbus Day off on monday. We should go as far as we can. How about California? ``
`` WHAT THE FUCK?''
I screamed so loud I almost made myself deaf.
Brenna sat there in silence.
`` Sorry'' I said.
Look my parents are gone this weekend but I ca n't just leave. I mean seriously are you mental.
`` Maybe I am'' she said with a devilish and kind of sexy smile.
I still sat there. I honestly did n't want to be stuck at home but I also did n't think about going on any sort of trip.
`` Okay Fine. I mean right now we're heading toward Tallahassee and its 9 PM Eastern and we have a full tank of gas which will get us 400 miles to Mobile. After that though what do we do?''
`` Well I borrowed this.''
Brenna held out a credit card with the name Jeff Hagerty on it.
`` My dad has a ton of these its not like he'll miss it. Plus i start a job on Tuesday down at Sonic so i can pay it off.''
`` You're gon na start working at Sonic? I thought you were going to try to spend more time with the debate team?''
`` Yeah my dad said he wants me to start earning money and that its good for me and whatever.''
We kept talking throughout the trip. The car kept stopping at gas stations. After we'd reached Mobile we slept and let the car do the driving through Louisiana and then on through Texas. In Houston I woke up. I'd never been anywhere west of Mississippi so seeing even a place like Texas was cool. I saw all the glass skyscrapers in the distance but then.
CRASHH!!!!!!
Our car started flipping and turning. Brenna was screaming and I was too. We'd been pushed over by someone. We ended with the car right side up but torn up and the both of us blodied. A police officer drove up.
`` Are ya'll alright?''''
We both said year and then we unbuckled ourselves and went to the hospital. It was 8 in the morning and now here we were stuck in Texas with a broken car. I was mad at Brenna. After hearing all about her life and how she said things were terrible I was convinced that while things were n't great it was n't enough to return home. Sure she was a good friend I guess but at the same time she never let on about any of this. Much like us dudes she kept quiet and only talked about video games and movies and how one time her older sister gave her some weed and she thought it was okay but kind of overrated. But now she had told me all of this inner life stuff that made her want to run away and all I could say was that she was being selfish. I could n't say it to her though.
After a few hours in the hospital avoiding each other. We talked.
`` So how are we getting home? My Dad is n't going to drive 12 hours just to pull me out of Texas.''
`` I called my dad. He'll take us back.''
`` And did you tell him about my parents car. That thing cost a fortune. I mean my dad will probably disown me or make me pay for the value of it. I'm sunk.''
Just then she started to get a little tear in her eye.
`` I'm....''
She kept sobbing.
`` I'm..... Not sorry man!''
Brenna started laughing.
`` Oh my fucking God just lighten up okay. God it is n't the end of the world.''
`` You're reckless'' I said.
`` Whatever, you're boring. We'd still be on the couch making pizza rolls back home. Yeah I'm sure that's fun. But hey you are still kind of cute to me and a friend so i'll make it up to you.''
`` How?''
`` Well you can ride home with me and dad and i'll tell your parents. I mean i'm the one who was dumb about it. How much was that shit worth?''
I told her it was about $ 50000.
She then looked at me.
`` FUCK!!!!''
`` What'd you expect?'' I asked.
`` Not that.''
The whole car ride no one talked until her dad and her stared arguing about everything. I did n't know how brutal things could get. I mean he even treated to send her to a home since apparently she did other really crazy crap. Crap none of us heard about like using not only Pot but Cocaine and sleeping with a bunch of guys. It was n't too surprising in all honesty but I never thought Brenna was a loon. At least until now.
After I got home I told my parents and they talked to Brenna's parents and things were normal except that Brenna was sent to somewhere to sort her shit out. The thing was that in spite of all that crap I still kind of felt for her now. I mean even though she was crazy I thought maybe she'd be crazy enough to sleep with and even date a loser like me. But then again she had other crazy things. But I did n't care. I just wanted to be with her or at least near her, even if she'd ruin my life.
|
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