Split (1)

train · 199k rows

post_text stringlengths 0 17.5k	post_title stringlengths 8 314	comment_texts listlengths 1 74	num_stories int64 1 74
and obtain from each a sealed letter that your father gave each of them during his life. You hated your father while he was alive and saw him as unsupportive and cold. Each of these 9 stories together allows you to see for the first time just who your father really is (both good and bad, failures, accomplishments, loves, etc). Write a stand-alone story of one of the 9 encounters.	[WP] Your father has passed away, but in order to receive anything from the will, you must track down a list of 9 people...	[ "\"Jason your section in the will says that to get anything you have to find nine letters from nine people to get it,\" the lawyer said.\n\nAre you fucking kidding me. First he spends most of my damn life away on some stupid business trip, robbing me, his only son, out of a father. Now to get a fucking inheritance from the bastard he wants me to go on some \"quest\" to get letters that would probably just be him telling me to fuck off? Makes me hate him even more than I did. \"Seriously?\" I screamed. \"He wants to send me on a damn journey to get anything, while his cousin he only met a year ago gets 300,000 dollars? What the fuck!\"\n\n\"JASON!\" My mother said freaked as usual.\n\n\"He says that what you will get after will make up for any trouble you will face,\" the lawyer said. \"He left this note to tell you the first place to go.\"\n\n\"Get after? GET AFTER! The only thing I ever wanted from that fucker was to have fucking normal childhood! Is he gonna give me that?\" I screamed, kicking my chair to the floor. I picked up that damn note and walked out of there. I didn't give a shit about what everyone else was getting from him anyway.\n\nWhen I got home I sat down and stared at the note I had in my hand for what seemed like hours. Until the curiosity won me over and I opened it, it read, \"I know I've been a terrible father, not even going to one of your school events or anything. I really wish I had. but I couldn't come home and look you in the eye knowing what I've done. But you can learn what I've done only by searching for the other nine letters I've left for you. The first is actually in this city, it's with the mayor. Go to his secretary on the third of April at 3:30 pm and ask to see him and say you are my son, she'll let you in.\"\n\nAre you kidding me, more of his fucking \"you'll know in due time\" shit. This makes me hate him even more. Does he think I'm going to be impressed by him saving the mayor when he was young or something? That it'll make up for him being missing most of my life? Ugh.\n\nAs per his instructions, I went to the mayor's house, on the third of April, at 3:30 pm. Surprisingly my telling his secretary who I was actually worked! Hah! For once he wasn't a neglectful self-centered asshole. After a few minutes I finally spoke up and said, \"um, sir? I'm Greg Jaston's son?\"\n\n\"Ah! Yes, he said you'd come by soon,\" he said searching through his desk. \"Alright here it is, the letter he gave to me about a month ago.\"\n\n\"Thank you, I'll read it when I get home.\"\n\n\"No, he wanted me to give you a partial explanation to his... behavior, he knew what he was doing, ignoring you and all. All those 'business' trips were actually him trying to pave a way for to become a very successful person. He wanted for you to have the best future possible. So he spent his time doing nothing except putting as much money as could in a series of bank accounts, which when your done with this journey would make you the third richest non-billionaire in the world.\"\n\n\"I don't care about money, I wanted a fucking a childhood from him!\"\n\n\"Don't you see, he was protecting you by not being near you. He wanted to see you everyday, he carried around a picture of you everywhere he went. Every second of the day was him trying to make you a better person than him. He saved me and countless other people for no other reason than him not wanting anyone to get hurt.\"\n\n\"Yeah sure next your gonna tell me he spent his time saving kittens from trees and feeding the homeless.\"\n\n\"He didn't do that, he was proud of what you did on your own and wanted the world to be your sandbox and have nothing to stop you from living your dream, no matter what it was; go to school where ever you like, meet your dream girl or guy, have a family, and do what you want. That was what he wanted for you, not to have good childhood and spend the rest of your life alone and in some shitshack working at McDonalds.\n\n\"He had a disease you see, they said he'd only live to see forty he new he wouldn't see any grandkids he'd have. So he didn't want you to have any good memories of him so that you would strive to be the opposite of him, be the best father you could be, be the best person you could be. Do you understand?\"\n\nI fell silent, I had a million things I wanted to say to him, none of them could amount to anything though, I had hated a man that had nothing but love for me and I had no Idea. I hated nothing but an illusion, one final trick by a man I didn't know in the slightest.\n\n>I really liked writing this one, and can I just say, I would love to see someone make this into a book, it'd be one of the best things I've read probably. Also this was probably the longest comment I've ever made to reddit.", "This is my first time posting, here goes.\n\nFinally, the last one, the one that would free him from this bloody wild goose chase. All the letters he recieved were from either old pals of his or guys from his unit back in Vietnam. All them were pretty much the same story, how great he was, the things he did and all that. But none of them said anything why his father was, his father. A cold, unforgiving, paranoid bastard. A man who was barely home and buried himself from his work. But at the time, for some reason, Michael felt that this had to be done. But now he saw it as a complete waste of time. \"Well here it is, 600 Llanfair Rd.\" he said. It was a two story, colonial style house with a nice kept lawn and a big old spruce tree in the front. And barely, just barely, Michael could see a pool with a pool noodle in it. \"Great,\" Michael thought to himself, \"another old geyzer with kids.\" Nonetheless, Michael knocked on the door. After a few moments, the door opened to something Michael did not except. He expected a 70 year old fat man with bald hair and eyeglasses but instead meet a relatively young 40ish year old man that was quite tall and lanky. \"Hello, how can I help you?\" said the man. Michael paused for second and replied \" Uh, yes, I am Michael Finn and I was wondering if you have a letter from my father, John Finn.\" The man paused for a second and said \" Ah, yes, your father mentioned that when he died someone named Michael would come around, please come in. The name is Matthew by the way, Matthew Todd.\" \"Thank you.\" stammered Michael. He walked in and was lead into the living room, where Matthew gave him the sealed letter. Michael stared at the letter and said, \" You do know why I am getting this letter right?\" \"Yes I do,\" said Matthew. \"So tell me, how do you meet my father?\" \"Oh that, well you see, I can not tell you much but since your dad is dead, I can tell a little more then I am suppose to,\" said Matthew. \n\nThat statement 'I can tell a little more then I am suppose to' caught Michael's attention and he perked up.\" You see, when I was about 28 years old, I worked for the FBI, your dad was CIA. We were on a job together as part of a task force and we discovered that there was a chemical attack planned on the New York subway system.\" We tried to stop them, which we did, but not before one of the terrorists were there way to release sarin gas into Penn Station. We managed to intercept him, but I managed to get my self poisoned. Your dad pulled me out there, risking his own life, to get me the antidote. It was for him that we managed to stop another Pearl Harbor or 9/11. It was right after that you see that he requested a desk job. You see, not everyone made out alive, as you could imagine, but his first fiancee was killed during the attack. He became withdrawn and cynical and I suppose he never quite got over it, but yeah.\"\n\n Michael stood there in silence for what seem like an eternity. \"Oh by the way, that letter, also contains the inheritance, so if you want, you can open it right now.\" said Matthew. Michael did not hear him, he kept turning the words over and over in his head. Lost, and a little confused, Michael opened the envelope. There was a letter and there was not much on it, it read \n\" Dear Michael, \n If you are reading this, then that means I am dead. I just want to say I am sorry about not being there for you. It just that I could never really forget about that day and how close you were to dying. You see on that day, you were suppose to be there too, with Monica. But you were sick that day and stayed home. After her death, I just kept seeing her face in your's and just could not take it. I am sorry that I neglected you and I am proud of what you have become. In the envelope, there is a picture of us happy and I always carried that around with me. Just remember son, I will always love you. \nFrom, Dad.\"\n\nMichael finished reading the letter and took the photo out. It showed him, being help up by his dad, in a crisp spring day, his curly hair flopping in the wind but more importantly, the smile on his dad face, so youthful and vibrant, the face before he became burdened with work and the tragedy he had. Michael just stared at it and promptly fell to the floor, finally crying, feeling sorry for his dad. " ]	2
	[WP] A great conflict is brought to an end by a duel between two 'unique' individuals	[ "The thunder of shells and the clap of rifles still echoed through the valley, war cries and dying screams still in their ears, but when they came together, those noises were mere echoes, silenced by the pens of diplomats a thousand miles away. Historians would say that the war ended with those words, those crafty men signing away the lives of others, but a hundred thousand veterans and a hundred million more would say it ended with a duel between great men.\n\nOn one side stood the General, back straight and sword drawn. Clean creases in his trousers, brilliant white tunic adorned with medals and ribbons, a beret bearing four silver stars, all marked the General, even in the midst of the killing grounds. Pride held his face - pride in the camouflaged men behind him, pride in his country, pride in himself. Honor kept the pistol at his hip, rank kept the rifle from his hands, and duty put his boots in the mud in no-man's land. At the front he stood, a shining beacon to guide them forward, to show the world what he and his nation were capable of, to show them what victory meant.\n\nOn the other stood the Mercenary, hunched and sore. Red blood and brown mud marked his pitch black uniform, clinging to the hems of his jacket and cap, covering his fatigues, caked in his unkempt hair. Desperation drew his face taut, but resolve showed through in his eyes - resolve to save his comrades, resolve to save his homeland, resolve to save himself. Spent ammo kept his revolver in his coat, a jam kept his rifle on its sling, and fury drew a steel trench digger as his only remaining weapon. Behind him, routed men ran for their lives, but he stood his ground, not for glory, not for honor, not for victory - only to buy time.\n\nThey met, shovel against blade, even as the guns went quiet and the rain grew louder. The General was educated, skilled, deadly even with a sword; the Mercenary was vicious, experienced, and fighting for life - but it was not enough. The General drew blood, but only a little; the Mercenary lost ground, sinking deeper into the mud with each step. Soldiers turned eyes and reporters turned cameras from the quieted lines to the furious duel. Still they both carried on, too proud or blind to see their war was over, striking and feinting and sinking ever deeper into the mire. The watching masses placed their personal bets; the General still pressed his advantage, but the Mercenary had not - would not - give up. With baited breath they watched honor overcome resolve, wondering what dirty tricks the Mercenary hid up his sleeve.\n\nSuddenly it ended, almost too fast to see. A sword stroke went wide; the General's boot stuck in the muck, and while he stumbled the Mercenary drove the sharp edge of his shovel into the General's side, cutting until it met spine. Red stained the General's pure white, and he fell into the mud, already taking his last breaths. Standing straight, the Mercenary stared down quiet guns, and the soldiers stared down their commander's slayer. No shot came, only heavier rain, cleaning the muck from his clothes. Eventually, satisfied in his safety, he turned to walk away.\n\nThen there was a shot. In the General's hand, his pistol, holstered by honor that had disappeared with his wound. On the Mercenary's jacket was a new spot of red, and from his jacket came his revolver. He spun, aimed, and fired all in one motion, and the General moved no more. There he stood, revolver held steady, his clean black a far cry from the filthy white of the General's tunic. Finally he emptied his last shell to the ground and turned again, walking away as though unwounded. So it ended - with a show of true honor and resolve.", "They called it the battle of the century. Ever since Lord Goliath brought down the one shepherd boy who dared defy us, the land of the Philistines and the land of the Semites has been wracked by conflict. From Hellean crusades to Sword Buddhists coming down from the steppes to suicide bombers praising Yahweh as they vaporize dozens, this land has never known peace.\n\nEven as I disembark from my APC with my squadmates, I never know when my last moment will be. Will it be in the shanty of New Judah, or to a Novgorodian rifle in the hands of a teenager fresh out of Pashtunistan? I don't know. Is that man leaning out of the window replacing tiles or loading a rocket launcher? Is the truck with a family inside filled with explosives? \n\nThis silent war is like an inferno from the pits of Tartarus, like the flames from Dagon's sacred rage. It's hard to tell when- if -this conflict will end. \n\nBut I was there the day that Goliath slew David. And I was there the day that David slew him back.\n\nDuels have been outlawed for a century, after the Thirteenth Semitic Revolt. We lost half of our officer corps to the concept of 'honour' right before they rose up, and a hundred towns burned because we were an army of lions led by a division of asses. \n\nBut that day, United Empires repealed that law, just for an hour. The fate of two peoples rested on that simple sixty minutes, and the outcome of the oldest form of war.\n\nSea-King Goliath the Fifteenth had come down from his throne on Mount Arrarat, on another royal inspection of the lands that his forefathers had conquered from the Tyrrhenian. David, Shepherd of the Semites, had come up from his hut in the centre of New Judah to meet him.\n\nA million people, of a million fractured faiths, came to watch. The Shepherd flung his stone, and the Sea-King swung his blade. A groan came from the Semites as a single head bounced upon the sand, and a single body thudded to the ground.\n\nOur Lord roared his victory to the heavens, his triumph echoing from Phoenicia to Athens to Londonium to Oslo. His people roared back, proclaiming his name in an endless chant. \n\nBut then a single shot rang out, one that was heard from a billion televisor screens and two billion radios around the world, rousing Gilgamesh from his slumber and Dagon from his throne. The world held its breath as Atlas shrugged and Goliath kneeled, felled by a simple shepherd boy.\n\nThe Semites are free now, freed by the courage that can only be held by a child. David, the new Shepherd of the People of Israel and the Halidom of Canaan, cast out the people of the Tyrrhenian from the land of the Phoenicians. The United Empires gave the Seven Nations a mandate, one to uphold the Halidom and to hold down the Sea-King's throne. \n\nThis war is not over, and perhaps it shall never be.\n\nBut it nearly ended the day that Goliath slew David, and the day that David struck down Goliath.\n\nFIN" ]	2
Cthulhu, Elder-gods, whatever. They popped in for a snack and find the tables have turned somewhat.	[WP] An Eldritch Abomination awakens to find Humanity somehow became more powerful then it.	[ "They rose swift from the forest, once again into the ancient bowers which had been their haunts, and occasionally their home in times long since passed. They stretched, their movements fluid as water and swift as the wind, seeming to pass from one position or one place to another never truly occupying the space in between, as if their very existence was some queer trick of mind or light. Their eyes now glowed with mischief and a kind of predatory hunger. Thin, fair lips drew back to reveal teeth that seemed to glow in the light of the stars, white as virgin winter snow. They turned their eyes towards the world they had been absent from for so very long.\n\nThey had abandoned this place, this foreign world, long ago as their world was stricken by civil war and strife, and foul magicks tore it asunder. A few scouts had returned on occasion, to see what remained. The people of this land upon which their tribe had arrived had still told stories of their people, of wicked grins and glowing eyes coming from the forests, of the beings that performed the shifting of skins, of forms, as easily as a man might change jackets. They had used them as a symbol of the wild places where man would not dare to tread. And the scouts had indulged in some mischief as was natural, committing the acts of very acts of kidnapping and replacement that the stories had told of. But man made very poor servants, slow to grow and quick to die, a flicker of a candle in the wind outlasts their life span, and they were weaker, slower, and stupider than any amongst the kind of the invaders. Still, they were entertaining for a brief while. And died soon enough that their novelty was scarcely done before their life ended with it.\n\nStill, even the scouts had not been here in many ages. Last they told of men coming to the shore of the wild places with great ships carved with dragons. Perhaps those men yet remained...or at least their descendents. Now, near the place of the last scouts they looked around at the world around them...and found it alien. Their noses as they detected a strange acrid smell and their sharps eyes glowing with wickedness were lidded quickly, and hands thrown up to protect. \n\nThe land was bright, and for a brief moment they wondered if they had come when the great orb of fire in the sky of this pathetic mortal world had not yet taken its leave. But no, it remained night, their exclusive domain, which they had always ruled. And yet all around light glowed. One of their number reached his life magick deep into the soil and found that the trees that grew their were not the ancient wood that the scouts had known, but quicklings still foreign to the soil. They looked at the world, their arrogance shaken as they paused to try and comprehend this strange land. Then they shrugged and began leaving the wood. The world was even more queer, with woods being a scarcity and stone dominating the landscape... but not the stone of the high mountains that stretched their roots to the world's core...but a kind of...patterned rock. Some was black as night, well night in the old times, and some was nearly white. All was strange. And now higher than trees rose many monoliths with strange skeletons of hard metal and translucent planes like ice making up much of it. And now they saw something queerer still... carriages, chariots, moving without any clear beast. They glowed strangely, eerily, as they made their way down the tar black stone paths, a kind of fireless light erupting from lidless eyes and spewing acrid smoke as they moved. Inside dwelt the quicklings, children of men.\n\nThe visitors from another world set down a white, and soon decided to cross the black river that was stone...or tar...or perhaps some strange material dragged up from a realm unknown to even the kind of the strangers. As they crossed a carriage barreled along, spewing smoke and light like a great fire. The leader of the shifting spirits gathered his fury and prepared to unleash the wrath of a thousand storms on the quickling and his strange chariot shell. He sent out tendrils of magic in preparation...and was struck with fear, as his cold heart chilled to rival the frosts of the far north. The chariot contained within it the ancient bones of the mountains that were anathema to the visitors, melted down from the dust that settled in rocks or along the mountain into a more solid form. The scouts had told of weapons made of this material...but never like this. Never so pure, forged so strongly. Barely was there time to dart away from the roaring thing that was so horrid, even moving like the swiftest of winds. Now fear struck the hearts of all the foreigners... presently they turned back to the woods and reopened the door to another world through which they came. The Queen would not like this.", "He had slumbered for so long. His twisted appendages flowing with the current, limp, lifeless. His dark visage, uncorrupted by the touch of humanity.\n\nAnd something bothered Him. A million fathoms below anything else, and deep in slumber. And yet, He was bothered. The murky pressure of the zone lines kept him afloat. His grand, glorious mind had awoken.\n\nSomething was off. The darkness was impenetrable, a thick blanket, obscuring the dark horrors that lay in it. It had changed, mutated. It turned corrupt.\n\nThe unblinking eye opened, filmy from a millennia of sleep. Thousands of plots and plans, schemes and subterfuges, all to purge this world of it's stinking filth.\n\nHumanity. The darkest monsters, even though they recoiled in horror of His visage, they were the true Death. They would go on to wipe worlds, scourge the Earth, and order things. Tiny, insignificant dust that would always multiply, creating the annoying film that was fun to play in, but grew cumbersome after time passed.\n\nAnd they had corrupted His slumber. He had not known how long, nor why He could not feel some of His multifarious appendages. He never had felt this... weakened. He contained the sickness. He forbade Himself from thinking what the result of this sickness would be, on His immortal form.\n\nThis displeased the Elder God. Rising from His murky waters, He slowly combed the waters to find the source. His eye, used to such darkness, easily detected the faintest glimmers of light. There were none.\n\nNo scales were left to reflect anything. Nothing was baiting another, conniving to make a meal. The water was empty. He was alone.\n\nInfuriated, He gathered all of His strength, and propelled himself above. The higher he got, the more corruption was present. This.. corruption... that humans had made themselves. It was dark, deadly. Impermeable, unnoticeable, mercurial, and yet an ever-present threat. \n\nThere remained no flash of scale, no brush of feather, no itch of tentacles dragging. He had almost burst to the surface, but a strange and foreign emotion made Him freeze. This emotion was unknown to Him, but it sped up His heart.\n\nThe humans had managed to corrupt far more than they should have. This substance, this dark power, was too much for Him to handle. His massive, beating, chamberous heart had sped up. He was feeling... unsuited.\n\nIgnoring the unknown chemical metamorphosis, He burst to the surface. The world was much different than He imagined. The water glimmered a strange color, corrupted by the humans. It was a bright, luminescent green that glowed the color of phosphorous at night. \n\nHe theorized that the water had changed Him, was what forced Him to decay.\n\nHorrified, He swam down, blazing, and yet the corruption reached. This thing, He searched the human knowledge for, was radioactivity. All living organisms were born and fed by it, and grew sickly if it was corrupted by humans.\n\nSmashing through zone layer after zone layer, He also identified the emotion that made His heart beat so. It was an emotion that humans frequently felt when they encountered His twisted visage. Fear.\n\nThey had manged to corrupt Him.\n\nHe was afraid.\n\nAnd alone.\n\nDefeated." ]	2
	[WP] After going through a great internal debate before sending a text, the person immediately regrets it after pressing send.	[ "“I would bang you if I had the fucking chance.” I typed it slowly and carefully, reading it over repeatedly so there wasn’t any typos. For the past week, I’ve been trying to guess whether Isabel wanted to do it or not. Well, fuck it, not anymore… I’m just going to make a bold, assertive move and see how she takes it. Even if she is the most beautiful girl I’ve met, trying to spend more than one week for sex is just way too much work. If she says yes, then good for me. If not, then whatever, there’s plenty of fish in the sea. \n\nMy hand hovered over the send button. My paranoid thoughts wandered off at a mile a minute. Maybe I shouldn’t do this. Afterall, I don’t think there will be a girl more compatible and beautiful than Isabel. Even if she’s not into the sexual aspect of relationships, I might still want to hold onto her. Then again, she seems promiscuous enough, I’m pretty sure she would be down to get dirty. But there’s always that slight chance she’ll say no. Aye, there’s the catch. I don’t want to scare her away and make her think I’m only after sex; because I’m not, there’s something intangible about this girl that gives me the butterflies every time I talk to her. \n\nSigh… my head hurts from all this musing and I still haven’t gotten anywhere in making my decision. Ok, John, you can do this. It’s not a big deal, she likes you anyways. Holding my breath, I closed my eyes and gently tapped the send button on my phone. \n\nAnd when I opened my eyes, I immediately regretted everything. Flashing on the top of the screen of my phone was the notification: Mom has received your text." ]	1
	[WP] You Are A Priest of the popular religion in the Year 3014. Give a sermon.	[ "Remember the ways that the holy father of Mars founded our great lands. For he was sent over here in a pilgrimage to get away from the doom and suffering we had created from earth. Such a damned planet from the get go, the pilgrimage was necessary. \n\nFor we give thanks to our great lord and savior, the one and only Hou'tin Naaasa. For he was brave enough to send a profit here, to the great Mt Redrock where he started a new life for those wanting to get away from the damnation of earth and it's vile inhabitants. They spoke a different language, but Hou'tin's message of love and planet for all was seen here on our great planet. For he did not care what life you lived on the damned planet, only that you would put all effort into turning it around here on the Red One. \n\nIf the agenda had any other plans in it, the great evil clan of the Conserves shot it down. The great battle of the Libbies and the Conserves lasted 400 years until our lord and savior Hou'tin found a way out of the grasp mother earth had created for it's inhabitants. His trip was sponsored by great beings known as C'ke and the great profit Ronald of the McDonalds. For they only saw the vision Hou'tin had for our great Red One, which brings us here today. \n\nWe give thanks to the holy trinity of C'ke, Ronald of the McDonalds and Naaasa. For without the holy trinity, our trip would not have been brought to you by these sponsors. We praise Hou'tin's name from now until the end of time, until we as a species damn this planet in the same way we damned Earth. May we go forth from this Red One with dreams of ignorance and stupidity, for that is what made us so successful on Earth. \n\nAmin. ", "\"As you go through your journey you must remember that as robot, humanoid, and cyborg alike we are all orbiting the same star. \n\nRemember our triumph against the ones who told us that there was only one being who gave us faith. We showed those who worshipped a single entity that faith lies in between the palms of men, women, children, and creations who come together hand-in-hand against any hellish foe. \n\nWe took our Earth back from the cynicism that destroyed past morals so we could experience true peace. Wars waged upon 'holy grounds' will cease to be, as we are all together as one. \n\nStay silent in your criticism of others and unrelenting in your support of all. \n\nAmen.\"", "\"Brothers! Remember the darkness of days past ! For it was not too long ago that false heresies and evil cults ran rampant over the Earth, blinding man from the truth!\n\n\"Reflect upon how fortunate we are to live in a world where no false religions exist, and the true way is open for all! Be glad that untrue superstitions no longer lead mankind astray from the true path!\n\n\"Yes, there indeed once was a time where the statis quo was controlled by ridiculous superstitions and untrue beliefs! Only was it by the work of the vigilant and our prophets did we discover the true path to enlightenment! We must never fall back to the heathen ways of the past! We must never succumb to any new heresies that come our way!\n\n\"Now, join me in the words taught to us by our greatest prophet centuries ago!\n\n\"In this moment, I am euphoric. Not because of any phony god's blessing. But because, I am enlightened by my own intelligence.\"\n\n-From the Desk of Pastor AALewis, Church of Atheism", "I stumbled on my up to The Throne. It wasn't a throne the way you're probably picturing it in your head. Brown, leather, and patched up with duct tape, The Throne was a 9 year old recliner and it was crazy comfortable.\n\nI flopped down and sighed heavily. The microphone was on the stand next to me and I grabbed it and delivered the traditional greeting. \"Hey.\"\n\nA few people in the congregation greeted me back with the traditional \"Sup?\".\n\nRunning my free hand through my greasy hair I started the sermon. \"Sorry I'm late. Suuuper hungover. Anyway, we'll pick up from last week. Was anyone here last week?\"\n\nNo one raised their hand. \n\n\"Good.\" I continued. \"Well last week I talked about taking Sunday back. If you have to put on pants, you're doing it wrong. Our church was founded on relaxing and enjoying the moment. In our society of fast paced, get up and go, always moving we needed a way to take a step back and just chill.\"\n\nI took a break to down some water. Four years I've been doing this job and I still hadn't learned to not drink the night before.\n\n\"Our founder... I forget his name, but you know the guy. He had a saying or a motto or whatever. He said 'Seriously dude, just settle down. Shit's gonna happen and you can deal with it later. So, yeah.' and I think we can all learn from... holy crap is it 3 o'clock? OK, I got things to do. We cool?\"\n\n\"We cool\" came the reply from the people who hadn't already left.\n\n\"Good deal. Well I'm gonna skate. Take care of yourselves. And remember, somebody else can deal with it.\"", "The Priest turned his volume knob to the highest setting and raised his mechanical arms. \"Logic and Reason.\" The phrase was repeated immediately from the full building. To become a priest was an honor bestowed only upon the most advanced people. \n\nLogicology taught that technology was the supreme achievement of humanity and to move up the ranks, a person must replace their parts with machinery. \n\nPriest 0087 was nearly all machine. His brain was still human, as only the Elders could replace their brains. The crowd sat down as the Priest rolled to the side of the stage to begin his sermon. \n\nHe disliked portraying emotion by moving as he spoke, but many of the believes hadn't yet replaced their hearts.\n\n\"Today, we shall learn of the first man to cross moving water.\"\n\nThe crowd stilled. This was the most known story, but also one of their favorites.\n\n\"The man came upon the water and stopped. He had to pass it to reach the shade on the other side. The desert heat was burning his inferior body and technology of his day was non-existent. Logic dictated he must cross to reach the shade.\n\n\"The man called his colony to join him and he ordered them to help him push down a slim tree, unable to be used for shade itself. Confused, the humans all pushed it down and followed the man's lead in bringing the tree to the river. They placed it above the running water and used it as the first bridge. \n\n\"So, was the first act of Logic.\"\n\nThe crowd didn't cheer or smile or show any emotion. to do so would be a sin. Showing emotion in the House of Logic was one of the worst offenses. \n\n\"The lesson,\" continued the Priest, \"is one of reason.\"\n\n\"This species must survive by any means. If man must destroy a tree to cross a river, the tree will take that burden. Those of us who are willing to devout ourselves fully to Logicology are like that man. We are pioneers, the ones who will survive to continue the species.\n\nThe Priest rolled back to the center of the stage to begin the Mathematics lesson." ]	5
Further Details: When you submit your request to your nearest Suicide Office, you are required to wait a three day "reflection period" in which you can say goodbye to your loved ones/family/SO/everyone yourself, or have the office do it for you. The three days is also there to allow you to reconsider suicide. The suicide is completely painless, and there is no one in the room with you when you die. Some questions to jog your minds: - What impact does this have on the nation as a whole? - How would your family/SO take the news of your suicide request, hearing it either from yourself, or from the government? - Would the three day period prevent most people from going through with the suicide, or would it have no effect? - What happens if a powerful public figure decides to request suicide? Have fun!	[WP] Painless suicide is a legal and government handled operation. Break my heart please.	[ " My arm rested against cool glass, illuminated by the street light peering through. I wasn't sure if it was legal to park here, but we needed to stop and talk. A disgruntled sigh broke the silence. \"What are we going to do?\"\n Words required so much effort to find. Stress took control. I repeated her question over and over, contemplating.\n\"You have a girlfriend.\" she piped up again. \"I don't want to be the girl who ruins it. I care for you, but cheating is wrong. This is all wrong.\"\nHer words felt as if they were tearing open a fresh wound. I don't want to be a cheater either, the girl I love has just seemed so distant lately. I've never been good at being alone. Her soft lips fluttered once again. \"I want to be with you, I do. Your girlfriend can't make you happy anymore. I love you, can't you love me too?\"\n Admittedly, my girlfriend hasn't been there for me these past weeks. I brought her flowers the other day, but things were so different. The girl in my passenger seat fidgeted with her phone, as silence taunted us both. \"We'll talk tomorrow,\" she said solemnly, looking at the time. \"You have a big decision to make.\" She leaned in to kiss me, doing as much as she can to sway my choice.\n \"I don't think so.\" I said tentatively, pushing her away. \"It's day 3. I miss her.\" ", "“Mr. Aaron Bartlett,” the woman calls my name from behind the desk.\n \nI rise slowly, my muscles coiling with tension, and walk calmly to her. She lays a clipboard in front of me without looking my direction, “please fill out all of the necessary information and bring it back to me when you’re done.”\n \nI nod and turn back to sit and, for the first time, really take a look around. Nobody notices me, I have that, at least, to be thankful for.\n\nEveryone is trying to escape from something. What is it though?\n\nThe thought confuses me as I relax my tensed legs and start on the pile of forms.\n\nIt’s quite standard medical protocol, until I reach the family notification section. Who would I tell? How can you expect them to know what you're going through? I take a look around and wonder how different my predicament really is. There is nobody left that I care for, nor that care for me, the introduction of the NSSO saw to that. I stared blankly at the page, not sure what to put.\n\nI remember the first time I received the small black letter. I had been waiting on the porch for my mother to get home from her doctor’s appointment, but the dark messenger came instead. Now, after suffering from her loss, I completely understand her decision. After father died, coincidentally close to the arrival of the NSSO office in downtown Manhattan, she mourned for him for so long. Even so, I couldn’t help feeling abandoned. She didn’t even have the gall to tell me herself f that she was planning on taking her own life, albeit painlessly and under a sort of supervision. At least I was her only child, so that nobody else had to suffer with me.\n\nI look up to see two of the attendants whispering and looking my way. I scowl and return to my paperwork they should be unbiased, it’s my decision… I circle to have the messengers notify all of my family and any others that I may want to be told. Even in the best of times, there would only have been one. I sigh heavily, sign my fate away and bring the papers back to the desk.\n\n“Okay, sir, you understand there is a three day period you must wait before you can meet with an Enforcer?” I nod. “If you at any time change your mind, please don’t hesitate to call us,” she looks at me with masked pity as she slides a card across the counter. I nod again, pocket the card and walk painstakingly out and onto the bright street.\n\nI look around at the smiling, cheerful faces and feel sick. Is this what I've wrought? Why did this ever seem like a good idea? What will come of those who are left? I click my key and slide into the car my mother left for me. I see them watching me, whispering things, but I don’t care anymore.\n\nI drive up along the coast towards New Bronx, gliding easily through the little traffic left on the road and watch the sun slip over the horizon. I am tired most of the day, but the weight of my decision and the implications bears down on me leaving me exhausted. I pull off the road and drift into dreamless sleep. \n\nWhen I wake, the clock blinks 10:42. Only 49 more hours, the thought comforts me in an odd way. I turn the key and the engine roars back to life. The road is deserted as I make my way back toward the city. I have nowhere to be, so I amble around visiting new things – things that don’t trigger painful memories. It’s hard for me to watch the people that are left, so seemingly oblivious to the loss in the world around them.\n\nI drive and drive, ignoring the glances of the people around me, ignoring everything but the ticking of the clock. I know I won’t change my mind, there is nothing left for me here. I pass the non-descript office and glance at the clock. Only six hours left until I can be joined again with those I’ve loved and lost, or not… either way, it will be over for me.\n\nI pull into the parking lot, looking from car to car. It’s obvious to me that these cars have been sitting here, untouched by all – an unspoken concession made between the despots left in the city, a sort of rebuttal against the man. The cars left here once belonged to people who were, like me, alive, but on their way out of this life. I lie back with the windows down, relishing the last few hours left to me until my watch beeps angrily at me. \n\nIt’s now or never, Bartlett, get out of the car.\n\nI walk to the box and shove all of the cash I have on me into the box to pay my time, I don’t need it where I’m going anyways. I turn back towards the clinic and feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I look at the illuminated screen and answer the unfamiliar number.\n\n“Mr. Bartlett?” Inquired the soft voice on the other end.\n\n“Speaking?”\n\n“Mr. Barlett, the Enforcers are prepared to see you if you’re ready.\n\n“I’ll be right in,” I click the bright red button to end the call.\n\nI take a deep breath and walk to the clinic. The waiting area is filled with less people than before – always less and less. A plain-looking man steps out from a door I hadn’t even noticed and, meeting my eyes, beckons me forward. I step through the doorway into a long hallway, following the man down a series of corridors. I look from room to room, most are empty in preparation, but those that aren’t blocked away are being cleaned and processed for the next patient.\n\nThe man stops and guides me to sit in one of two chairs around a stainless steel table.\n\n“The Enforcer will be with you shortly, sir.” I nod and stare at my hands in my lap.\n\nSeveral minutes pass in silence until the door slowly opens and a robe-clad figure emerges from behind the door carrying a small case. They lay the small black box on the table and opens it to reveal two frighteningly large syringes, one filled with clear liquid, the other a shocking orange color. I look up, trying to glimpse the face behind the hood to no avail. I turn my face towards the door, willing this experience – my last – to be over.\n\nThey snap their blue-gloved fingers once to grab my attention and motion for me to hold out my hand, palm up. As I do, they place the orange-liquid-filled syringe in my hand. They stand at my side and slowly glide the syringe into the vein at the crease of my elbow; I do not wince as my flesh is punctured and the liquid is flushed from the syringe. The figure walks out of the room, and I am left with the syringe and an oddly numb feeling through my whole body.\n\nI must do this now, myself, or it will be too late and they will have done it for me.\n\nI find the same puncture mark and push the syringe into my arm, as the orange liquid fades from sight, I collapse from the chair – my face hitting the cool tiles hard. I see them all now, my mother, father, friends, colleagues, and loves - all together, ushering me from this life. The last sound I hear is my own death rattle as the last of my life rushes from my lungs." ]	2
	[WP] A meteorite crashed onto someone's front lawn, scientists did some tests on it and noticed cells on it, frozen into a perfect English message. What was the message and why did it get here?	[ "There it sat. In all its smoldering, terrible beauty lay the massive rock. Still glowing as bright as the sun and steaming from the atmosphere, it was an insidious mark on what lay in store for humanity. And all around it, people gazed in wonder and horror as the message was deciphered. When it was finally done, and the scientists beamed at their accomplishments, their smiles quickly turned into looks of sheer horror as the world read the message.\n\n'CONACTING: MILKWAY GALAXY (PLANET REGION \"EARTH\") SENT FROM: GALAXY NGC 1512 (PLANET REGION \"VESPOR\")'\n\nTRANSLATED INTO LANGUAGE \"ENGLISH\"\n\nOrganisms of the planet known only as Earth, it has recently come to our full attention that one of our own has been taken and captured by your Leaders of your world. One of our own that in which was requesting peaceful hospitality between our two galaxies, was soon brought under intense and extreme brutality by your Leaders in order to decipher more information of our intergalatic species. Though many messages we have sent to your Leaders pleaing for the safe return of our own kind, we have only been met with more hostility and ignorance on your Leaders' part. As it stands, and as our warnings have been simply brushed off by your species, we have taken full offense in the breachment of intergalatic hospitality and have no choice but to retaliate with full force unto your planet. This is a declaration of war, organisms of Earth, for the extreme brutality of your species. Through the use of the intergalatic wormholes we will travel, and be there within three days Earth time. We are coming, organisms of Earth. There will be no negotiations any longer. There will be no mercy." ]	1
	[WP] A young child, sitting next to a famous physicist who is working on a train, informs the grown-up of an error in the calculations.	[ "\"Mister, I don't think your Lagragian is right. Phi transforms as a spinor. You can't assume that the vacuum energy of the universe is isotropic, so the non-relativistic Schrodinger equation doesn't apply. You're better off re-normalizing the Feynman scattering with non-Hermitian gamma matrices.\" \n\nEdward rubbed his eyes wearily and looked up from his paper. The child next to him was squinting intently at his equations. \"Sorry, did you say something?\" Edward asked. \n\n\"Yes, I was just saying that I don't think your Lagrangian---\"\n\n\"That's what I thought you said.\" Edward looked the kid over. He looked maybe 12, 13 at most. \"Aren't you supposed to be in school? It's 8 am on a Tuesday....\" \n\n\"Home school.\"\n\n\"Aren't you a little young to be taking the train by yourself?\"\n\n\"Aren't you a little old to be having trouble with basic quantum field theory?\"\n\n\"Okay, okay. Want to come over to Harvard and talk about this?\" \n\n\"Sorry, I go to MIT.\" \n\n\"I thought you said you were home-schooled...?\"\n\n\"Sure, last year. Now I go to MIT.\"\n\n\"You're a student at MIT?\" \n\nThe kid laughed. \"Ha! Please. I'm tenured. Well, there's my stop.\" The kid grabbed his Ninja Turtles backpack and walked off. \n\nEdward rubbed his eyes again and looked back over his equations. The Lagrangian... he turned his pencil over and started to erase. Ever since Von Neumann it seemed like every Stephen Hawking wannabe was going around spouting off some half-baked new theory of everything. He turned his pencil over again and started setting up a new integral. Fucking kids these days. \n\n", "-101\n\nMalcolm sat with his feet curled beneath him and feverishly scribbled into his note book. Words sped across the page like the dust trail of a wild mustang. He stopped when his pencil lead broke. He stuck the pencil shaft between his lips and yanked up his satchel and began looking for his pencil sharpener. The boy next to him was on his knees with his chin propped in his hands.\n\n\"What?\" Malcolm asked peevishly, locating the sharpener. He dropped the satchel and wrecklessly began twisting the pencil inside it.\n\n\"Nuttin'.\" The boy replied, rubbing one hand beneath his runny nose.\n\n\"Gross.\" Malcolm told him tartly, curling his lip in disgust.\n\n\"What you doing, mister?\" The boy asked.\n\n\"Something important.\" Malcolm told him dismissively.\n\n\"Is that quantum physics?\" The boy asked.\n\nMalcolm looked at the boy with a suspicious eye. \"Maybe. Why? Who do you work for?\" Malcolm demanded, looking up and down the train nervously.\n\n\"Nobody. I'm a kid.\" The boy replied, rubbing his hand beneath his nose again.\n\n\"Maybe.\" Malcolm mumbled, unconvinced. \"Maybe you're just a little person, sent in to steal my work.\" Malcolm covered his notebook and looked up and down the train again.\n\n\"What's the point, mister. It's all wrong.\" The boy twisted around and pulled out his game system.\n\n\"Is not.\" Malcolm argued. He flipped the notebook over and went through his calculations again.\n\nThe boy just nodded. \"Page three, near the bottom.\" The boy told him. \"You have the wrong coefficient. Page five, three lines from the top. You didn't change the sign. Page nine, last line. You found the cosin when it should have been the sin of the value instead. You're not very good, mister. Do they pay you to do that?\" The boy asked, wiggling his thumbs and working the buttons on the controller.\n\n\"I'm paid very well, and . . . well, you're right on the first count, but on the second one you're . . . well, you got lucky. The last two though--how long have you been watching me?\" The pyscist demanded.\n\n\"Long enough. You'll never open a worm hole with an understanding of the quasi-dimensional energy of the universe with such an elementary understanding of math. Light doesn't even work that way. You messed up almost immediately. I bet you heard something Hawkings robo-voiced and thought, hmm, he might be on to something, then bastardized Einstein's theories to concoct this Frankenstein Monster you're going to try convincing your employers is genius. You're relying on the fact that the math at first glance seems cutting edge due to the theoretical math you're employing, but despite the near genius feel of the logic, your basic math skills are little better than a college freshman's. You, my friend, are a hack.\" The boy told him, only bothering to look at Malcolm at the end of his rant.\n\n\"Who the hell are you?\" Malcolm demanded, feeling destroyed.\n\n\"Just a kid on a train.\" The boy whispered. Malcolm looked up and down the train and saw several people staring at him in confusion. He looked back to the boy. The kid looked up and winked. \"Isn't schizonphrenia a bitch, Malcolm?\" Malcolm held it together a moment longer then screamed out his frustration.\n\n\"Don't listen to him, Malcolm.\" The little girl sitting on the other side advised. \"He's just mad because you're real, and he isn't.\" Malcolm looked at the girl with a wild look in his eyes. \n\n\"Am I crazy?\" He asked.\n\n\"You are if you think that math will solve your power consumption problems. A worm hole uses ten times that much power. It's why opening one is so theoretical. You're like the man who keeps designing his dream house knowing he'll never be able to afford it.\" The boy answered.\n\n\"He wasn't talking to you?\" The girl screamed.\n\n\"He's schizo.\" The boy pointed out. \"He isn't talking to anyone but himself.\"\n\n\"Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. STOP IT!!!\" He roared. \"Just shut the hell up!\" He demanded.\n\n\"Sir,\" the conductor called, holding out his hand to get the physicist attention. \"You're scaring the other passengers.\" He warned. \"Please keep it down.\"\n\n\"What other passengers?\" The little girl asked. Malcolm looked up and down the train and saw that the girl was right.\n\n\"Where'd they go?\" Malcolm asked.\n\n\"Where'd who go?\" The conductor inquired.\n\n\"The other people on the train?\" Malcolm cried in confusion.\n\n\"Malcolm. You need to wake up.\" The boy advised calmly.\n\n\"What the hell is going on.\" Malcolm cried, ripping pages from his notebook.\n\n\"Wake up, Malcolm.\" The boy called again.\n\n\"Wake up, Malcolm.\" The boy and girl called in concert.\n\n\"Wake up, Malcolm.\" The children and the conductor called.\n\nMalcolm closed his eyes and started bawling.\n\n\"Malcolm?\" A woman's voice whispered softly. A gentle hand caressed his cheek. \"Malcolm?\" She called a little louder. \"Are you back, baby?\" She asked again. Malcolm was still bawling, but he slowly opened his tear streaked eyes and looked up to see the faces of a concerned crowd around him. \"It's okay, baby.\" The woman crooned. \"You don't have to play if you don't want to.\" Malcolm looked at his little hands and the keys of the piano beneath them. He looked at the ivory, and the crowd went away. He saw numbers in the air and knew them to be notes then placed his fingers on the keys and began to play. The little girl stood at the corner of the piano. The little boy stood at the other. The old man, the conductor, sat beside him with his hands over Malcolms and helped him find the keys.\n\nAs Malcolm played, the numbers changed, and the little boy called them out form Malcolm to find. The little girl hummed, and he was calmed. He played, running his little fingers through complicated sequences. He took the notes to the top of the building then brought them down so low one was left with a feeling of the melody he played instead of a memory. He played, and the world knew peace. He played, and he knew peace. He slowly walked his fingers through the final notes, letting the last of them hang in the air for all eternity in the minds of those who heard it.\n\nThe crowd came to their feet with thunderous applause, and though the lights were bright above the stage, he saw ecstasy on the faces of those in attendance.\n\n\"Not bad, kid.\" The little boy murmurred.\n\n\"You did great, Malcolm.\" The little girl complimented, hugging him.\n\n\"Well done.\" The old man beside him congratulated.\n\nThey all stepped away to make room for his mother.\n\n\"You did wonderful, baby.\" His mother cried, wiping a tear from her cheek. She hugged her son close and kissed his cheek and a hint of a smile touched his lips. It was rare enough, it deserved to be mentioned. The other three personalities vanished with her embrace. She kissed him, and he let her. He didn't care about the crowd. This was why he played, laying his head upon her shoulder." ]	2
I'm not looking for a story with this quote, seems a strange quote to be said in actual dialogue, but rather a story based on the idea behind it. Someone who carries other's burdens.	[WP] Give me your pain and I'll suffer it for you	[ "\"Look at them, Marcus. Take away their pain and they'll do anything! Father always said it wasn't human, but after all what's good about human nature? That's why I'm talking to a severed head.\" The mad man paused, glancing at the vacant stare and limp skin mounted on the wall. \"Well, he's not here now, so it doesn't matter anyway.\" \n\nA knock came at the door. \n\n\"What?\" he snapped.\n\nThe door opened and a man bowed his way into the sterile white room, holding a silver platter in his hands. \n\n\"Idiot!\" The mad man dashed the platter out of his hands, spilling everything. \"I want alcohol.\" \n\nSmiling and nodding without a word, the man left. \n\nThe mad man snarled at the closing door, then paused. A shudder crossed his face, contorting his features. Clutching at the back of a green armchair, the only piece of furniture in the room, as pain shot through his abdomen, he looked at the part of the wall where a faded outline was all that remained of a mirror. He frowned, collapsing into the chair. \n\n--\nOpening his eyes and reaching out for the alcohol sitting beside him were one act, though the knowing of it as there did not seem to be in his mind. He drank deeply, wiping with his sleeve. With red drenched eyes he looked across the room. \"What the hell are you looking at, Marcus?\" ", "\"That's not how it works.\"\n\nArthur looked at the man sitting in front of his desk and regretted ever thinking his customers were boring. He wasn't superstitious, but he almost felt like he brought that situation on himself. \n\n\"Aren't you a sin eater?\"\n\n\"I am. That's how I know it's not how it works.\"\n\n\"But I'll die if you don't do it!\"\n\nHe didn't look ill or anywhere close to death.\n\n\"If you die, then I'll be able to take your sins upon me.\"\n\n\"That's...\"\n\n\"And depression isn't a sin anyway. Besides, you know there is treatment for it. Therapy, meds. Illness, not sin.\"\n\n\"Don't you think I've tried everything? I'll give you anything. Just name your price.\"\n\nEarlier he claimed to be 32, but his once dark hair was almost entirely white now and deep wrinkles surrounded his eyes and mouth. He looked at least two decades older than 30. \n\n\"I believe you. But I can't help you.\"\n\n\"Unless I'm dead.\"\n\n\"That's debatable too. Personally, I think sin eating has more of a symbolic value nowadays.\"\n\n\"Everything has a price.\"\n\n\"Not when you ask for the impossible.\"\n\n\"I'll go to someone else.\"\n\n\"Please.\"\n\nThey both knew there was no one else. \n\n\"Listen, Edgar...\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"I want to help you. You seem like a nice guy. And I never turned down a customer. We can try. I have no idea what you think you did, but it you think this will help...\"\n\nThey programmed the actual sin eating for another day. \n\nI never thought I'd ever put my psychology diploma to use in this business, Arthur told himself as he was looking after his keys to close up early after Edgar left. Enough customers for a day. \n\n\n------\n\n-105", "Damian smiled, pulling the little plastic plug sticking out of the wall socket. Standing up, he straightened out his back, looked onto Anna for a last time, sighed and walked out of the door.\n\nThe hospital was quiet and chilly. He took another deep breath. It smelled of disinfectant. Turning right, he went into the next room.\n\nInside lay an old woman, well in her seventies, if not eighties. Her eyes were closed, but when Damian entered, they opened, slowly and with great effort.\n\n\"Hello?\" Her greeting turned into a rattling cough.\n\n\"Hi.\" Damian smiled back.\n\nHe threw a glance towards the chart hanging from the foot of her bed.\n\n\"Who are you cough, young cough man?\"\n\n\"My name is Damian. I'm a student from the local university.\" He lied. \" I have an asignment to interview a very special woman. Someone who's lived an amazing and interesting life.\"\n\nHer face lit up, barely contained by her many wrinkles. Damian smiled as well.\n\n\"Oh, I don't know if you have the right person, then.\" she replied jokingly. Damian chuckled.\n\n\"Do you mind if I ask you some things about your life, Mrs. Iverne?\"\n\n\"Oh, not at all, young man. But are you sure you want to listen to an old hag like me?\"\n\n\"I think you're selling yourself short, Mrs. Iverne! I did some research, and know you were born in 1912. Would you mind telling me how it was like back then?\"\n\nShe smiled. It was a warm, unfiltered smile. She began to tell her story.\n\n--\n\nOutside, the sun was setting, bathing the horizon in a crimson veil. A firework of red, orange and yellow beams, emitted from the fleeing orb that was the sun, chasing through the evening sky. \n\nClaudia had took a nap, and Damian had sat by her side the whole time. She stirred, opening her eyes slowly.\n\n\"Damian, I'm cold. Do you mind adjusting the sheets?\"\n\n\"Not at all.\"\n\nHer did as she asked. All tucked in, she looked blissfully at peace.\n\n\"What a wonderful day.\" She whispered, looking out the open window.\n\n\"I agree.\"\n\n\"Thanks for spending it with me and listening to me. I think I'll go to sleep now.\"\n\nShe stirred under her covers, sighing and closing her eyes.\n\nDamian stood up.\n\n\"Good night, Claudia.\" he said softly, reaching for the plug.\n\n\"Damian?\"\n\n\"Yeah?\"\n\n\"Will you be there when I wake up?\"\n\nHe smiled again.\n\n\"Of course, Claudia.\"\n\nHe pulled the little plastic plug out of the wall socket.\n\n\"Good, good.\" Claudia whispered, quietly. She took a deep breath.\n\n\"What a beautiful day.\"", "\"John, are you alright? You're white as a ghost!\"\n\nFrom where he sat, clutching his side, John looked up. He blinked quickly to remove the film of water that had built up in his eyes.\n\n\"I'm fine, Mom\" He said, trying to feign a smile.\n\n\"You know honey, you should be enjoying these final days that you get to spend with me. I know the doctor says I don't have much time left\"\n\nHis mother, Sydney Rogers, had always been an optimist. She had always seen the best in people. How strange, then, that her son would be cursed with only being able to feel the worst in others. \n\nHe didn't tell her, of course. She would have never wanted him to feel her pain. The excruciating pain of a body failing, losing its final battle with a malicious and merciless foe. \n\nHis side seared. His limbs felt numb. \n\n\"I know, Mom, sorry\" John said, doing his best to ignore the overwhelming fatigue that he was experiencing. He wasn't even sure if it was his own fatigue, or her's. \n\n\"Honestly, I think that the doctor must be wrong\" she told him as she turned to get the turkey out from the family oven. \"I've never felt better\". \n\nDespite the pain, John watched her, the way she moved about the kitchen that he had grown up in. He would miss her. She didn't have long. \n\n\"Johnny,\" she said, looking over at him, her face was unreadable. \"Johnny, I know I don't have long. But, thank you for being here with me. I don't feel nearly as bad when you're around\".\n\nJohn's eyes watered, this time not due to his mother's pain. \n\n\"You've been the best son that a mother could ever have\". Your father would be so proud. \"I'll tell him all about the man you've become. I can see him smiling already\". \n\n\"Mom,\" he paused, a wave of pain washing over him. His pain. \"I love you\".\n\n\"I love you, too\" His mother beamed. \"Everything will be alright\".\n\nJohn nodded, all the pain in the world was a small price to pay to be able to see her happy, even if it was only for a little while.\n\nPain, after all, is a natural part of life. It is those that we chose to suffer for that defines us.\n\nFor John, the choice was obvious." ]	4
	[WP] The first human in over one million years is admitted into heaven	[ "God sighed after rejecting the last few applications yet again. For the last million years, not a single human had made it to Heaven. It wasn't as if he didn't try to change this. He talked to Moses, explaining his existence and the requirements to go to Heaven, and told him to spread the word. However Moses wasn't even able to follow the 10 commandments so God reluctantly sent him to hell. He even sent his own son Jesus down to Earth, yet even his twelve disciples committed sins, so despite Jesus' protests he sent them to hell as well.\n\nGod was lonely.\n\nHe stood up, pushed back his chair, ready to go to sleep when he noticed a slip of paper that must have fallen under his desk. He reached down and picked it up and glanced through it.\n\n\"Five counts of murder.. tax evasion.. sadist...\", he muttered as he skimmed through the page. He scrunched up the paper, ready to throw it in the rejection pile, but he hesitated. Maybe he was being overly harsh on humans, expecting them to commit no sins in their lives might have had been rather unreasonable. He unfolded the persons application, ready to give him a second chance.\n\n\"Spent last 30 years in jail.... converted to Christianity... helped his inmates....\" He muttered under his breath. \"Well, I guess that is good enough\". He gently put the application in the approval box, and head to the entrance, waiting to welcome his first resident in over one million years.\n", "We tried this once before, yes?\n\nYes, long ago. Different worlds. \n\nBut now we're trying again?\n\nYes.\n\nHow long?\n\nAbout five minutes. His respiratory system is failing even now. \n\nGuh. Physical life. Jeez. No thank you.\n\nYou should try it. It's enlightening. \n\nOnly if there's a way to have the experience without all the... biology... stuff... ew.\n\nIt's not so bad. Everything ready?\n\nYeah yeah. Sure. Uh... Pretty sure, anyway. It's been a while.\n\nA million years.\n\nYeah.... so... was it hard?\n\nHm?\n\nBeing human, I mean. Back then. You were on a world too, right? However many million years ago?\n\nYes.\n\nYes, you were a human, or yes it was hard?\n\nYes.\n\nAh... right... so... three minutes now?\n\nTwo.\n\nOk. Um... what do I say? \n\nHe thinks his name is Abel. Welcome him home, and tell him he did a good job. Tell him everything is okay. It will all come back to him. \n\nYou mean he doesn't remember anything?\n\nNothing but being human.\n\nWow. So... he doesn't even remember asking to go down there? To do all that... biology... and... pain and stuff?\n\nHe doesn't remember. I did my best to tell him once he got there, but the flesh is so loud that he didn't hear much. Just a feeling now and then that there was more. Hope to carry on. That kind of thing. Thirty seconds.\n\nBut he knew he would forget? I mean, that was part of the deal, right? He'd start down there with, I mean literally nothing, right?\n\nYes?\n\nSo... Why?\n\nWhy?\n\nWhy do it at all? I mean this guy had his organs broken by his own brother - one of us! Why are people lining up to go down there if it's all this pain and biology and accidents and unfairness and everything else?\n\nWe go there to know what it means to be here. To be home.\n\nI don't understand.\n\nYou will. If you go. Ah. Here he is! Well done!\n", "His eyes blinked opened, slightly at first, god it seemed bright, but despite the blinding headache he felt better than he had in centuries. \n\n\"Well now, I'd thought you'd never show up, do you have any idea how long you've kept me waiting?\"\n\nThat voice... He knew that voice, but that couldn't be, it had been too long, far too long, but still \"Claire?\" he rasped. God was that his voice? He couldn't even remember the last time he had spoken.\n\n\"It's me honey and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.\" Claire replied\n\n\"But, but you died... I watched you die. I couldn't save you Claire, I failed, but I swore I wouldn't fail you again. All this time I've stayed alive for you. I've made sure you've never been forgotten\" he blurted.\n\n\"I never should have made you promise that, I'm so sorry. Of course only you could have come so close to the impossible\"\n\nThe light was dimming now, and he could finally see her, god she hadn't aged a day, a million years and he'd never seen anything that compared.\n\n\"What do you mean so close? I... I can't have failed, I still remember you Claire, and I’ll never forget you.\" \n\n\"You're dead James, after all this time you've finally died, but don't despair we can finally be together. The last human for over a million years has finally died. I’ve been waiting for quite a while in front of these gates\" \n\nSure enough as she said this James looked behind her and saw gates. They seemed infinite and yet he knew they would open with the slightest touch.\n\n\"You mean, you haven't been in yet? All these years, weren't you ever curious?\"\n\n\"I was scared James. First I was scared of dying, and forced you into that horrible promise, and then I realized that on the other side of that gate is every human who ever lived and died. Every single human except you and me. How would I ever find you in there? How would I ever even know when to start looking?\"\n\n\"Well I'm here now\" James said taking hold of her hand.\n\n\"Together forever?\" Claire asked, big eyes gazing up at him.\n\n\"I promise\" James replied without hesitation.", "\"The first one?\"\n\n\"In quite some time, yes.\"\n\n\"But...my dad?\"\n\n\"Not here.\"\n\n\"My mother? My saint of a grandmother who wouldn't even look towards alcohol or swear?\"\n\n\"Neither are with us.\"\n\n\"I don't get it. This is so unfair. I've done so much wrong in my life, why should I be the first one here in hundreds of years?\"\n\n\"Everyone has done a lot wrong in their lives. It is interesting that you would even question your admittance through the pearly gates.\"\n\n\"I was brought up that this would be paradise. How can it be paradise when I can't even see my family? My unborn son? My best friend that got hit by some fucking looney downing a 40 on I-10?\"\n\nPeter sighed. After waiting so long to admit someone, he had gotten excited to hear he was finally doing it. He had built it up in his head that the angel would be excited and happy, but maybe humanity has changed a bit more than he thought they did.\n\n\"Why not step through the gates and ask Him yourself?\"\n\nHe paused. \"Ask why nobody else has gone through these gates? Why I'm alone when I'm supposed to be at my happiest?\"\n\n\"Well, when you put it that way...never mind, just ask Him.\"\n\nThe gates opened and a feeling of might came across him. It the same feeling he got when looking at the top of a mountain from its base.\n\n\"No,\" he said before the gates were fully open. \"No, no, I just want to be with my family. I want to tell them I love them every day and to stay near them.\"\n\nPeter sighed again. \"All right. Have it your way.\"" ]	4
	[WP]: describe the last person you talked to as if introducing a character in a book	[ "He sits there, iPad in hand, the bored kid on a forced vacation. He yawns and glances over the hotel room. His blue eyes, level and clear, don't match the rest of his awkward exterior. Brown hair, naturally messed into a rather cruddy haircut, does nothing for his appearance. Pasty skin, slightly overweight but carries it well. His chin and lips have the hint of a mustache he has been attempting to grow, but sadly has been unable to progress past the prepubescent level they rest at.\n\nHe glances over the room once more. His mother and father, Christian and arrogant, argue over nothing. His little brother is engrossed in the TV, watching some trash he probably doesn't even understand. His eyes glance over to her, then flick back, hunger in them.\n\nShe was Austrian, he knew German, and she had the nicest body he'd ever seen. She was staying with the family for a few months. But her head was as empty as his reserves of patience, and he returned his gaze to the chat.\n\nThe girl he was talking to was older, wiser, a bit of an ass and very pretty. Sadly, he can't get over the \"older\" thing so they remain nothing but fast friends. She is telling him about something from a video game - he doesn't care, but wants to impress her, so asks questions to prove he is listening.\n\nWhat does he want from life? He isn't sure. A self described nihilistic agnostic person who, given the chance, would use his knowledge of Star Wars to become a Sith Lord.", "I passed her in the hall on my way to the kitchen. She towered over me, though the slight stoop in her shoulders held her down, as if she was being pulled Earthward by the weight of her troubles. She smiles easily, but in her eyes there always seems to be a hint of worry - as if something just below the surface was anxious about the consequences of her showing affection to another.\nShe was well-built, with powerful legs - though her movements still conveyed that sense of awkward apprehension, it was obvious that in the right light, she could obtain mastery over her surroundings. We nodded and smiled, and continued on our way, but I knew I would be seeing her again.", "I don't know what she looks like. We've only ever talked on the phone. Her voice is like a flower, blooming with gurgling laughter, swaying up and down in the wind. Her voice is gentle, the words so soft they're barely audible, but I never tell her to speak up; I don't want her to stop. I hang onto the voice, clutching, grasping at the sounds, trying to remember them forever. We laugh, we chatter, we waste time talking about silly, un-important things. To be silly again.\n\nJust before she walks in the door, as we're waiting to catch a glimpse, this moment I've dreamt of in a thousand different ways, I know at least one thing. She'll come in with a smile.", "Look, I don't know anything about you. I know your name is Avery but that doesn't help. I suppose you might be aware of me, in some small microscopic corner of your mind. I bet there's a lot of them. Corners I mean, in your mind. There's probably a lot of little niches that you have, stuffed with little tidbits of useless information. I bet that's what makes you tick. I can see it in your eyes. But that's only when I see your eyes. I'm usually too self-conscious to look for long. Or maybe I do, and it just seems like a fleeting glance. I can't tell. Maybe we've had a lot of moments of just staring at each other and maybe some unseen thing is passed between us, and maybe we've lived an entire life time and maybe I'm just completely useless around girls. Who really knows? Can I just say, I really like your glasses. I dunno, I have a thing for glasses. And it probably adds a lot of weight to the tidbits that are packed into the little corners of your mind. I bet I'm just a little tidbit in your mind. A small piece of trivia you bring up with your flannel-wearing, beard-sporting, muscularly forearmed boyfriend. My forearms aren't very big. But look, I'm trying to introduce you like a book character, but I think you'd be terrible as a book character. The problem is, an author would know his character. An author would understand why his character says or does certain things. I would know if you have a flannel-wearing, beard-sporting, thick-armed boyfriend. But I don't. I just assume. And I wish, and I stutter and stare. In fact the only reason why I'm even doing this is because I want to pretend for a moment that I know you. For a moment, I want to believe that I'm more than just a tidbit in your mind, that I'm more than just a guy who gets nervous at the prospect of saying anything more than 'hello' to you. ", "I returned to my desk mildly puzzled, a common result of conversations with Brandon. This time he was concerned that the Chiropractor on the floor below will soon be relocating to an office 30 minutes away. What about the patients who had come here for years? Were they expected to travel that far? Hey, did you ever try the acupuncturist downstairs? Great stuff.\n\nBrandon's floppy hair matches his all-natural, surfer vibe, which he applies to daily life. Ask him about his teen adventures with one of the family vanagons, or how he almost got knifed trying to be friendly to a gang at school. Have a headache? He's confident that your diet has too many acids or too little soy lecithin or once you try kefir milk you will never go back because those gurus selling ebooks really make a lot of sense.\n\nHis tall figure hunches over as if all of his high school friends had been shorter. He wears Oingo Boingo t-shirts to marketing conferences. He is first to opine about a band or restaurant, but would just as quickly rescind and agree with you to if it prevented discord. He would be a good friend.", "She was a peculiar girl.. One born of hardship and struggle. Some would call her flat and lifeless, while others would call her weary, having seen and been apart of things that no normal girl of her age should have to go through. Her submissive personality, at first an act, a ruse she needed to create and hide behind, a necessity to continue her own survival, became her reality, a girl who had to raise her self in the stead of violent and substant addicted parents.\n\nIt was with a heavy heart I said goodbye, and waited for the click of the phone line as she hung up. I sat there, pondering my own feelings for her, and her lack thereof, especially after everything we'd been through together. \n\nIt dawned on me that maybe I was also a part of this survival mechanism. That maybe I was used as a part of her natural instinct to survinve. Not that I can blame her.. But I can't stop hearing that normally entrancing voice of hers telling me that she no longer loved me.. \n\nWhile others saw peculiar and strange, I saw a warrior, a girl who used what ever means she had avaliable to survive, even if that meant tagging me along for two years. \n\nAnother peculiarity, also more than likely resultant of her daily struggle, her reluctance to communicate how she truly felt. I may never know if she loved me as much I loved her, but even if I don't speak to her again, I know I won't have to worry about her.\n\nFor I know that no matter what happens, she will make it, blood, sweat or tears, and that's all that matters", "She sleeps deeply and sometimes it is a gift and sometimes it is not. Good dreams come rarely—cold weather makes her dream of oceans and summer heat has her dreaming of suffocation, of hot blood. She wakes up like how she falls asleep, slowly, and then all at once. She is kind and dutiful, sending you off on your day. She likes to talk about things she loves—people and books and movies. She mourns characters, chatters excitedly about allusions and history and science. Her temper is like a whip, quick and painful, and the welts stay even after apologizes. When she is about to cry her voice hitches, becomes thick in her throat. She never shows anyone her tears—she cries alone in her room, in the bathroom, locks the door and doesn’t come it. When she is with the people she loves the demons come—telling her they do not love her, that they think she is selfish and horrible. She talks about writing, about her characters and plots, and even though she rarely writes you think her ideas are beautiful. She is a beautiful person, even if she does not believe it herself. ", "She is probably in her 50s, a bit pudgy but not fat with dark auburn hair. Michelle works as a home visiting nurse, although she should have went into theater with the act she puts on. All the \"Hi, how are you?\"'s recited as if on a script, cheerful tone and chit chat that fool most her clients. Below her happy demeanor you can just barely notice her impatience with the patients. A thin layer of ice on her face whenever my grandma opened her mouth, a person with bad eyesight and hearing like dear old Granny gets fooled by people like Michelle, but not me.", "When I got home, I tried to vent with Dexter. He's different. Something about him just gives everybody he meets the impression that he's not quite as human. He's calculating. He's described himself as a monster struggling constantly with an endless torrent of anger. He is self sacrificing, honorable, and lives life with a combination of martial artist morals and criminal life lessons. He's smarter than he lets people know. He's always observing. He's the most loyal friend I'll ever have. He wants to kill a person at some point in his life. He's a survival nut. He's a wing chun grandmaster's disciple. He's a metal head. He is not, however, a shoulder to cry on.", "The chase is on. I know Kevin has spotted me, and I know I have to run. But I also know that I have to run without running: That I must to disappear, become unreachable. A simple sprint is, upsettingly, not an option. \n\nMy pace accelerates as I began weaving between people along the sidewalk, nimbly darting through small knots of students, using people for cover as I put space between myself and Kevin. He shouts my name, spurring me on, persuading me to move faster. I put my head down, consider donning my hood.\n\nAnd then it is over: Kevin is running, shoving people aside, his feet clomping loudly on the concrete as he shouts my name again, breathless from the 20 foot jog. I have lost, I realize. He is upon me.\n\n\"Yo,\" he breathes. \"You ready to fucking rage this saturday?\" he inquires, clapping my shoulder, putting his face two inches from mine. I smile - it hurts.\n\nHe repeats his question, now screaming, shaking me around for emphasis - \"ARE YOU FUCKING READY TO RAGE THIS SATURDAY?\" \n\n\"Yes,\" I reply simply. I was not. \n\n\"Hell yeah,\" he cries, dragging out the -eeeaaaaaah- long enough so that it becomes socially unacceptable. People turn their heads. \n\nIts not that I'm embarrassed: its that I want to punch Kevin in the throat. \n\n\"It must be crazy being a DJ. You just put music on and get to party,\" he says, now speaking extremely fast, waving his hands around. \"Beats and bitches!\" he concludes loudly, pausing, looking at me, and then laughing fervently. \"Are you going to play any trap shit?\"\n\nI drop my books and punch Kevin in the throat as hard as I can before my books have had time to reach the ground, collapsing his esophagus as he crumples to the sidewalk, coughing and sputtering and flailing around as I position myself above him, preparing for my final, killing blow.\n\n[I did not punch Kevin in the throat in real life. The last paragraph is fiction.]\n\n", "He wore a genuine smile on his face, one that would remove any sadness from your heart. His hair was messy and he had not shaved that day making it look as if he had just gotten out of bed, but his facial expressions said otherwise. He tended to the other customers with such happiness and joked around with the kids. Even when the helpers dropped a product by accident, he dealt with it lightly just telling them to be careful. It was as if there was no tension on his mind, yet there could have been the stress of not making enough to pay the bills, or to feed his family. ", "I saw her waiting for the elevator with her bag over her shoulder and a pen in her hand, presumably having just finished another drawing of hers. She had on a pair of grey sweatpants and a black singlet, complimenting her tanned skin. Beauty without effort. Her flip flops smacked the ground as she turned to face my direction and her auburn hair flowed along her shoulders, down to her waist. Her gaze met mine and for a second, I looked into her round brown eyes but quickly averted my own as to not raise suspicion. The top of her head lined up directly with my lips and as we walked onto the elevator, I noticed her scent, magnificent as always. Maybe today I'll talk to her. Maybe." ]	12
I was thinking of maxing this out at 4-5 paragraphs, just so it has a low barrier to entry, so everyone could be brief and have fun and just be creative. If you want to stand by that, by all means do, I just want to to hear some stories. Also, it doesn't have to be NSFW, it's just a measure to allow you to be creatively free in whatever you come up with.	[WP][NSFW] Why she thinks they way she does.	[ "She watched the patterns of grease and dirt on the wall. Followed their outlines with her eyes, tried to convert them to 3d space, to unravel them, to make them possibilities, rather than dead-ends. He fingers move in rhythm with something that no one could see nor understand.\n\nShe tapped her left foot lightly as she surveyed the dirty wall, as she took in her surroundings, silently measuring distances. From her shoulders down to the floor, far towards the wall and up to the ceiling. This place was perfect, a 20x24 locale with nothing in the way of obstacles anywhere. The walls were the limit.\n\nSuddenly, with a growl she pivoted, something small and white flew out of her left hand and quickly snapped back into her palm. She listened quietly to the echo of the buzz that the small, circular object had made.\n\nAnd then she started dancing. The small object on the string would orbit, dart around, spin and buzz was the tune to which she moved. The dragon's tongue, the swiming toad, the leaping wolf. The yoyo sped through the air faster than the eye could see, travelling in complex patterns around the woman.\n\nAll great artists make their art part of their lifestyle. As the small yoyo flew through the air, breaking it with audible force, she could feel that this was now part of her lifestyle. She would be the greatest yoyo artist in the world.", "A continuation following this [chapter.](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/20ygor/wp_i_could_just_make_out_the_window_high_in_the/cg807jg)\n\nQueen Malvina is pacing again. Despite realizing this, she cannot cease moving about the dinning room. Laid out on the table is china and cutlery for two. The fact she agreed to this surprised even herself. Her Captain of the Guard somehow managed to persuade her to dine with her captive a second time. Just the thought of him sends a shudder down her spine. The temperature drops noticeably by several degrees. Her face flushing red with embarrassment, she wills the room to a comfortable heat. Malvina's incontinence regarding her powers have always been a point of shame for the young ruler. It was her inability to control her gifts that doomed her subjects with undeath. Still, tonight she believes herself to have reason to be nervous.\n\nFor one hundred years her kingdom was safe behind the veil of fog and storm. Not a single ship that entered titanic squall which surrounds her island kingdom ever made it out, and not a single soul survived the treacherous seas or deadly surf, until he washed ashore, disappointingly alive. When he appear on her coast breathing and very much alive, what was she to do? For a century she had counted on the storm to take care of issues. And so when he was thrown onto her beach like some half drown rat, what was she supposed to do? Execute him? She had hoped she was a fairer ruler than that. She was not some despot who murdered on a whim. She did the most humane thing she could do. She locked him away in isolation. It was the best thing for both of them. He would live, and she would not fear having an man loose in her kingdom. His imprisonment was the only way she could have allowed him to live.\n\nSomehow, after two months of surreptitiously observing him and watching him grow more and more forlorn, Sir Lawrence managed to persuade Queen Malvina to invite her prisoner to a meal. She spent the entire time in fear of this emaciated, haggard young man. The notion of being afraid of him was completely illogical. She was a sorceress of tremendous power, capable of killing with but a word. He couldn't have run a mile without keeling over midway. But after what happened all those years ago... Any man could be like that.\n\nA knock on the door makes her yelp in surprise. A familiar voice reaches through the thick wood. \"Your Majesty? May we come in?\"\n\nShe smiles at the sound. \"Yes you may, Sir Lawrence.\"\n\nThe oak door opens and two figures emerge from the hallway. The first is her closest advisor and confidant. Garbed in the tattered cloak of office and with arming sword at his side, her Captain of the Guard walks in and shifts to the side. The second person, Dieter Hagedorn, steps forward. Queen Malvina sucks in a breath as she sees him better, willing herself not to turn around and flee to the comfort of her private quarters. Her captive is wearing better fitting clothes than last night. The staff had the time to go through the wardrobes to find items his size. No amount of fabric can hide his half-starved body though, gaunt with hunger. Shame wells inside her at the extant of his neglect, though it is hidden beneath a queenly mask. Her prisoner however, is as readable as an open book. His features might be kindly described as feral. He has a wolfish- no, definitely vulpine aura about him. There is a bestial cunning in his slate gray eyes. Most of his face is taken up by a mixture of fear and defiance. \n\nTaking a deep breath, she wills herself to remain calm, to not give into fear. She gestures to the other chair. \"Please, sit.\" Her captive gives a tense nod and walks over, seating himself wordlessly. A servant pushes her chair in for her. Glancing over at her mentor for support, she begins dinner.", "They sat on the edge of his bed kissing. Hands tickling up and down and reaching to unbuckle bras and belts. But she hesitated ever so slightly. He was aware enough that he slowed down and they sat together on the edge of the bed side by side, hands intertwined and shoulders used as pillows. They sat in silence as she mulled over her rough edges that couldn’t fit into a cos graph. She stared at her scarred wrists and licked her uneven, creamy white teeth that even braces couldn’t quite fix. \n\nShe was a swan with a duckling’s mind. Years of being told that “words will never hurt” still hadn’t convinced her of the lie. She was smart and funny, but kids judged one another based on the most superficial of things and it wasn’t like they were completely wrong. She was smart enough to know the mirror didn’t lie. \nOver the years, she became deaf to taunts, like a low drone that eventually is ignored, but not ever forgotten. She still avoided mirrors and tried to concentrate on her personality. She attempted to lose weight but never managed to lose the ‘baby fat’. \n\nSomewhere along the way, the tables turned and her personality began to seep out from under her skin. People noticed her melodic laugh, quick wit and porcelain skin. He noticed her.\n\n-095\n" ]	3
-110	[WP] A young apprentice confronts his master, suspecting him to be his long lost father. The truth is slightly more complex.	[ "####-110\n\n---- \n\nAgainst the dark of igneous rock, licked by lashings from the dancing magma, the Droid drills deeper. \nUp on the lip of the crater, in his cooling-apron, the young Droidmancer dances expertly. With his feet deathly close to the edge, the wraps of his gown flowing in the turbulence, he manipulates the Droid with ease. \nIt drills and drills, until it reaches the heart of the swell. Retracting the bit, it punches through the quickly-coagulating pool left behind, braving the oppressive surge in molten rock. Fashioning the heart out of the knotted magma, it pulls away: standing up on its tall, spindly legs, and looking up to its manipulator. \n\nSmiling, the Droidmancer performs the rite of Union, and the droid slithers up the faces of rock to him, curling around his body and nestling in the folds of his cooling-apron. \n\n* \n\nWith the heart hanging from his fist, chained in thinned light, the Droidmancer returns to the Factory late that evening. He makes his way straight to the Mains room, and with care, fits the heart into its place in the machinery. \n\"Quick work, this time.\" says old Ghori, smiling at him through his charred-paperscroll beard. \"You've only been gone a few days, this time.\" \nThe young 'mancer waits by the old man as he sets to work with his levers and pulleys, starting the process of shaving the heart down into plasma. \"They're becoming harder and harder to find.\" he says. \"We might have to wait until after the solstice for the full harvest.\" \n\"Don't you worry about that!\" says Ghori, peering at the the heart through his goggles. \"That's up to the Master. You just put your things away and go up to the Tower. Get yourself something to eat!\" \n\n* \n\nUp in the Tower, high above the volcanic landscape, the young 'mancer takes in the night air before sitting down to eat. He needs it. The atmosphere of the place has become forever changed to him, now. There is no returning to the place he had left behind when he had last left the Tower. \n\"You're lucky,\" says Naya, \"Jasa's made her bean curd curry again tonight!\" \n\"Thank you Naya.\" says the young 'mancer, bowing his head to the one girl and then the other. \"Thank you Jasa, for always taking care of me.\" \n\"It is our pleasure to serve.\" smiles Jasa, plating the meal. \n\nThe young 'mancer sits and eats wordlessly as the two women wait on him, their eyes cast down to the mosaic floor between courses. The slaves circle them, their arms oscillating in mute obedience, fanning them. \n\"So, Apprentice 111.\" says Naya. \"How far do you think you have progressed in your arts?\" \n\n---- \n\nTo be continued. ", "In a town called Yardel, in the 27th year of the Glorious Reign of King Ionil the Second, there was a tower tall and filled with secrets. Carved upon the entryway were the words, written out in the script of the Elder Tongue, the Scholar's Stone. In it dwelled two men, one who was called Ynvarg, though none truly believed that this name, a name from a ancient era now gone when the wild magic that had ruled the world was tamed and conquered and bound to the will of men, was his own from birth. Ynvarg was ancient and oft coughed, great hacking wheezes which shook his body and left him exhausted and in pain, but so very wise. He spoke the Elder tongue as if it were the language of his birth.\n\n The other was named Ulthir, a bastard boy of the age of 16. He served as the apprentice of Ynvarg, learning the ways of magic and its command using the Elder Tongue. One day, the youth approached his master, and asked him \"Ynvarg, are you my father?\" The master turned to his ward, a hint of a smile upon his face. \"And what makes you think I am, young one?\" \"Well, my father disappeared during the Destruction of Morgshold, but I always felt he was alive. I felt drawn to you, as if you were someone I knew, and we share a hint of the same look. But that was not enough to make me suspect. But there is more. You see, my mother never told me my father's name, but I searched through old letters and found his name. Vayar. And what name did the witch of the wilds call you when she bound you with your true name? Vayar. Then there is this.\" the whelp held out two stones, a deep dark red. He then touched them together and they began to shine with a unnatural light. \"Blood stones. Made from our blood. They glow when they touch kinsmen's blood.\"\n\n\"I hope you didn't take essence from a old man while he slept. I have need for as much red life as I can muster\"\n\n\"Of course not, I took it when you had me clean the floor after that little mix up with the summoned imp. I know we share blood. And you share my fathers name. So, why don't you just tell me, please? You are my father aren't you?\" The boys eyes seemed to shine with tears as he begged for his master to give him trust, a bond. The old man now looked as if someone had told a joke during a solemn occasion, struggling to keep his face straight. \n\n\"My boy, there is little I can say. I have two pieces of advice. The first is that when you long for a home you shall find one on the banks of the river Eidir. The second,\" the old man seemed to whisper, forcing the boy to lean in to hear. He listened as if every word was weighted by gold. \"The girl by the tavern, Gunwuld? She fancies you.\" the old man now laughed, unleashing the mirth hidden behind a stony face. The boy's inner fire now raged outwards as if lightning had struck upon straw.\n\n\"You dare taunt me, old man? I have cleaned your piss pot, helped you up the stone steps, carried your burdens, cleaned your messes, cooked your meals, and in exchange I was promised knowledge. Yet I ask you something so key, so vital, so easily given but so hard to do without, and you refuse me! You will tell me you horrid living carca...\" the speech of the quickling was cut short as a great hailstone rained out from the wizards pointed finger, driven by words which carried with them all the power and fury of the cold northern storm. The whelp was struck by four chunks of ice, each of which formed a maniacal that held him fast to the wall of the rock. His lips then frosted over, turning to solid ice.\n\n\"I must? I must? I must tell you at whose behest, youngling? Do you claim the power to command me, your master, to obedience? Would you have me bowing before your boots young master? You are a fool it seems. You remembered the blood stone recipe, but you seemed to have forced out old knowledge to make room in your little mind. We follow the Old Ways here. It is the sacred path that allows us to command magic in safety. Its tenants guide us. Now, I am going to free your mouth the first thing out of it had best be the 1st of the 8.\n\nThe boy now felt the ice around his mouth slowly turn warm and melt. \"The apprentice is to obey the master, for the knowledge most ancient of the master gives wisdom to the new who will carry it on, and the master must be heeded.\" the boy stuttered automatically. \"Ineed. And yet I must. Still, I suppose the Old Ways do, in some ways command me to do as you ask...let us say this, we shall decide who deserves the title of master based upon another of the Old Way's. If you ever best me in a duel then you shall gain what you seek.\"\n\nAnd the master and his apprentice continued in this way for years. With the apprentice following dutifully, but with occasional outbursts like a coal which appears to cool then flares brightly as the wind touches upon it. They dueled many times, but each the master was victorious, using some trick or secret which the boy knew not of. And eventually these duels ended when the master fell ill and began coughing more and more. And so, on the 28th year of the life of the boy Ynvarg died peacefully abed. And the boy, now a man, buried his master in stones carved in the runes of the Elder Tongue, that his body might resist the onslaught of the ages.\n\nThe boy, now a man, took the tower for himself, and for his bride, the girl Gunwuld. He had been married by his master, insisting than other than the man who brought them together could perform the ceremony. Ulthir had a son in time, named for his master who was perhaps his father in blood, but who was most definitely his father in spirit, as Vayar. And so time marched on and Ulthir continued his masters work, finding secrets old and new and teaching them to those who would serve in the tower that was called the Scholar's Stone, including the young Vayar. Eventually the former boy now master passed away and left the tower and its collected knowledge to his son.\n\nVayar worked tirelessly to instead the passing of time. And one day while he worked, around the home which his father had built far from the village on the shores of the river Eidir, he found himself taken with a flash. He found the river barren of population, and wandered far. He found the village of Yardel, far smaller than he remembered it. He asked about the Scholar's Stone, whose place was barren and received no answer. People spoke about Morgshold as if it yet remained standing to this day. And when he asked the year he was answered that it was the 39th Year of the Glorious Reign of King Ionil the First. So he realised that his effort to understand the passage of time, which carried all men as easily as the river carries a stick, had taken him upstream. And so he realized now his true identity, that of the ancient sage which his father spoke of in his stories. So when he was asked his name he answered that he was Ynvarg, \"the Wise One\" in the Elder Tongue. And when asked why he had come to the humble dwelling of Yardel he had but one answer. \"I wish a peaceful place to construct a tower, a place to work. A place of knowledge. Other than that, well...who can know the future?\"" ]	2
	[WP]A creature not from earth struggles to adjust to a human body and environment.	[ "\"Download complete\" F.luhb heard, before everything went black and silent. It wanted to extend its sluurks to probe at its surroundings, determining their colour and texture. But this body didn't have any sluurks! It almost panicked, then remembered its lessons. Ah yes, \"eyes\". Light-sensitive globes at the front of the \"head\". It sent a query to the primitive brain structure to open them. At least there were two, so it had 3D vision. The range was quite limited though. It tried to direct its gaze down at itself to look at its new body. The \"eyes\" wouldn't move much though, all it could see were two pinkish crescents. \n\nThen it remembered that these \"humans\" had bony spines with basic articulation along the vertical plane. It bent its neck. Where its own body would have been covered in dozens of graceful ftuilks, allowing it to manipulate many objects at once, and ten slofmis, to stand on and walk, this body had only two gripping organs, and two long, wobbly stiltlike things to stand on. Very strange an impractical layout, it thought. Then, it remembered its lessons on how to feed this body, and felt faintly sick. It could not to that, fads be damned.\n\nFor its next holiday, it would go solar-sailing in the asteroid fields again. Somewhat relieved, it pulled the mental emergency brake, and downloaded back into its own body.\n\n", "\"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH\" the host screamed.\n\n\"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH,\" he continued.\n\nIt did not understand why he struggled. Hosts can be difficult, it resolved.\n\n\"What the fuck, Jim you okay?\" another called through the door.\n\nIt shut the mouth of host. Muffled gasps escaped from his nose.\n\n\"Jim?\" the voice questioned, entering the room.\n\nIt moved his legs towards the voice, struggling with the odd contraptions connecting the top and bottom parts of his legs. It raised his arm towards the new voice, engaging in a greeting it learned from watching the hosts.\n\n\"Jim?\" the voice repeated, apparently not recognizing the gesture.\n\nIt left his hand up. His eyes attempted to move rapidly but it stopped them.\n\n\"What's that on the back of your head?\" the voice asked. \"Some sort of fucking bug, it looks- aAAHHH\" the voice stopped.\n\nWhile the voice talked it had made him poke the voice with his metal point. It moved deeper into his head with a squish.\n\nHe wretched, excreting its child upon the silenced voice. Child attached to voice's head.\n\nHe walked, per its instruction out of the bright room into the bright hallway and towards the twinkling screens. He pressed a button on the screen, as it had seen hosts do many times before. Child stumbled behind him and it squirmed further into his head.\n\n\"Destination?\" screen asked.\n\n\"H-oohme\" he said.\n\n\"Repeat\" screen commanded.\n\n\"HOME\" he screamed, more confident in the words it had heard.\n\n\"Confirmed, destination set to home\" screen said.\n\nHe sat and it finally pushed fully into his head. Child sat next to it, squirming deeper into voice's head. It put a smile on his face." ]	2
	[WP] Two god-like beings, disguised as old men, play a game of chess on a park bench to decide the final fate of humanity. The players, however, are distracted by a couple seated across them...	[ "Raul looked upon the silly boring old game of chess and let out a feminine \"Sigh\" audibly enough for David, his rugged chiseled black adonis with the gigantic trouser snake to hear. All the Puerto Rican feminine gay man could think about was rubbing that gigantic black cock on his face after the two old boring white guys would leave.\n\nRaul wanted to have his public bukkake interracial fantasy fulfilled, and he wanted it in the park RIGHT THIS SECOND!\n\nNever in his life did he need to have seed shot all over his face more than in this moment.\n\n\"Bishop to bishop 3\" the boring old bastards said. Poor fuckers, they are probably too old to get it up anymore anyway. \n\n\"David isn't into old guy sex is he?\" Raul thought as he saw how much attention his black Nubian sex god was paying to the old bastards and their moldy old board. \n\nTO BE CONTINUED", "An old man lay sleeping on a bench, dressed in a suit, as blue as the ocean, no deeper still, and yet, as light as they sky itself. His hair had grayed, from it's original deep black, and now his hair was a light gray that was almost blue itself. As he lay snoring, a tall woman whose clothes were once pink as a fresh peach, yet even more vivid, walked up and sat across him.\n\n\"I've been looking for you.\" she said, waking the old man, \"It has been a long time since we met.\"\n\nTh old man started and looked into the woman's eyes, \"Is it really you, Momo?\" he asked, slowly at first, \"I have not seen you since Nagasaki, the first one, in 1945... or was it six?\"\n\nMomo snapped her fingers, and a chessboard appeared on the table, \"It was five. Now, we play. You promised me that one day we would play this game, for what you took back then.\"\n\n\"You know that I did it to protect them.\" the man said, lazily waving his hand, and pieces appeared on the board, made of a beautiful blue metal, the kind of which had sunk beneath the sea ages ago. \"If you read it, who knows what would happen.\"\n\n\"That is a lie. You never did anything for anyone. You wouldn't be able to motivate yourself. Pathetic.\" Momo flourished her hand, and cherry blossoms fell from the sky, and folded themselves into pawns and rooks. \"You're stuck in the past, with Abraham. THAT'S why you stole his book.\"\n\n\"You go on about that Momo,\" The man replied, moving his piece, \"I never loved him. If i was thinking about him when i took it, it was my promise. To never let anyone have the formula.\"\n\nMomo moved her piece then looked around the park, which was devoid of life except them. She smiled. \"Never before was a battle like this fought with no spectators. I see you are kind enough to not use your..... Skills.\" Momo spat the last word like poison.\n\nthe man smiled, moving the Knight forward, \"You cannot limit me. It is why I am still alive. It is what has kept me alive since Els Et Kenedren.\"\n\n\"The Island of the Sinking Tides. You really are lazy, Atlas. it's called Atlantis by the mortals now.\" Momo said, moving her queen.\n\n\"A simple shepherds mate.\" Atlas said, quickly taking the queen with his knight, \"You cannot limit what i can conceal from you. And I am called Aoigami now. that was the terms of our last game. He spun a cube made out of the same material in midair. \"Blue Chromata, in this language, I think.\" he intoned his voice behind her, \"Come, i believe your names are Kaitlyn and Chris. Please, sit.\"\n\nMomo whirled around, \"How did they get in here?\" she turned back to Blue, \"You. You and your desperate attempts for attention. I will kill them for their insolence, after i am done with you.\"\n\nBlue looked at her, \"You will do no such thing.\" He spoke again to the couple, come, Chris, son of Jonathan and Theresa, and Kaitlyn, daughter of Helen and Sam, a convergence of three major bloodlines, your child destined to join to the fourth.\"\n\nChris and Kaitlyn walked up to the table, \"How do you know our names?\" asked Chris, his face a billboard, advertising his distress, \"We have never seen you before.\"\n\nBlues eyes flashed a perfect, azure blue, \"There is nothing that can limit me. Ten thousand years ago, I was called the God with No Limits. i am not a god though. Though she thinks that she is. She calls herself the God of Existence.\"\n\nMomo's eyes flashes a lovely pink, and then Blue. \"I cannot destroy them. Why not?\" she asked, moving a piece.\n\nBlue smiled, \"I have welcomed them into sanctuary. It is an Atlantean custom. Old, but still works.\" He moved a piece, then looked at Kaitlyn, \"You wanted to ask something?\"\n\nKaitlyn flinched, but caught herself halfway through, \"Why are you playing chess? The two of you seem to dislike each other, so why don't you just fight it out?\"\n\nBlue smiled, watching Momo take one of his pieces with dismay, \"Because games are something thing I let myself be limited by. Just as you know, if you wanted, you could have a harem of males that would love you and protect you and live in harmony, but you let yourself be limited by your relationship with Chris, and just as Chris knows that he could easily dump you and go romp with Anna Eltier, whom he finds quite attractive, more than you, however, because of his love for you, he limits himself. However, if i were to fight with Momo over this,\" he waved a leather bound book in the air, the pages covered with ever changing runes, not seen since Atlantis itself, \"She would go all out, and then i would go all out and humanity would be obliterated.\" As he said this, Blue, without looking, moved his queen, \"Checkmate, i think.\" Blue said, smiling a little, \"And as my payment, you have to live in my old, how did you put it, confinement, for the rest of your life.\"\n\nMomo looked up at Blue, her eyes aghast, \"You wouldn't, you gave me your title as the first of our line. I owe you nothing.\"\n\nBlue smiled, \"Fine. Instead of that, I get my title BACK. Then i can order you to live there for the rest of your life.\"\n\nAfter Momo's screams of anguish faded into the air, Blue turned to Chris and Kaitlyn, Would you mind, letting an old man die in a warm house, and then honoring his final wish?\"\n\nChris stepped forward, tears streaming down his face, and wrapped his coat around Blue, who was now beginning to become cold, \"I thought you couldn't die. You can't be limited by anything, not time, nor death, nor space.\"\n\n\"I'm quite afraid that my old age has caught up to me,\" Blue rasped, his voice fading, \"I'm quite sure that I've forgotten what's in there, except one thing.'\n\n\"What's that?\" asked Kaitlyn, wrapping scarves around him.\n\n\"That the Codex, grants ultimate power, but only a human may read it, or this world will be destroyed.\" Blue wheezed.\n\n\"But, why? Why only us?\" asked Kaitlyn, confused.\n\n\"Because you... are limited..... By love.\" And then Atlas, the first king of the Atlanteans, died.", "The clock read high noon, and the sun peaked in its mighty power in the sky. Its all-encompassing iridescence encased the entirety of the unnamed city in every facet of its being. Every street, alleyway, and store front basked in the presence of the light. The city had a homey feel to it, and its citizens were a warm people. These city-dwellers gravitated towards the city-park on alluring days such as these.\nThe city park had many old cobble paths that revealed to those who traversed it a multitude of trees and wild life. Behemoth stones were randomly located throughout the park. The original founders of the city deemed these boulders too much of a burden to move, and they decided to leave them. These rocks had stairs hewn into them at certain points; however, time had eroded the stairs to the point which one could easily ignore such trivial things. Nevertheless, these carvings hinted at something ancient and significant. In a way it was foreboding.\nForces beyond the reader or myself had determined, unbeknownst to the city-dwellers, that this certain park in this unknown city would be the site of a game of Chess that would settle the very fate of this Earth once and for all.\nThe two contenders’ true identities are only known to humankind by different euphemisms and nicknames assigned throughout history. Ying and Yang, God and Satan, Allah and Iblīs, no matter the time or place, these opposing forces have fought for complete dominance and ownership of Creation since inception. They are Light and Dark, Push and Pull, Everything and Nothingness. Wars, natural disasters, and disease were all the result of the conflict of these two beings.\nBoth of these gods, as some would call them, concluded that through their battling, the prize the deities sought was being destroyed. They wished to end it all in one final skirmish.\nSo, with the result of one game of Chess, one would dissolve into oblivion, and one would have supremacy of the Earth, one total victory and one ultimate defeat.\n“So the final onset has finally begun, Light?” spoke one of the deities.\n“I suppose, Dark, my old combatant,” reasoned Light.\nBoth Light and Dark had taken the form of plain humans for this encounter. Light appeared as a kindly man in his middle age. Light had blonde turning white stubble growing on his rounded chin. Laugh lines were visible around his mouth when he spoke, and crow’s feet clawed at the corners of his eyes when they squinted in thought. His blonde-white hair was balding on the crown of his head, and he had slicked it back in a type of comb over with the spittle in his hand. He adorned a white tee-shirt, a pair of white slacks, a white belt, but no shoes; he was barefoot. His greyed eyes stared intently at his opponent, Dark.\nDark took the form of a younger man with a full head of jet-black hair down to the shoulders and a black goatee. His eyes also had a grey hue in similar fashion to Light. Dark wore a black suit and a red satin shirt. Each button on his jacket shined of an unnaturally bright gold. His tie was black in the same way as his hair. Dark’s sharp chin, pronounced cheekbones, and pointed nose all met Light’s gaze evenly.\nBoth spirits sat down at an open table in the center of the city-park. They never broke their stare.\nOn the table, sat a Chess Board; it was already set up. Naturally, Light took the white side, and Dark took the black.\n“White always moves first. The privilege of first movement is yours, Light,” Dark spoke coolly. The immortals felt no hatred or other emotion to each other. Those processes were petty human affairs. Both, Light and Dark felt they were beyond that.\n“Very well,” Light replied. Light took his time in thinking of his move. After all, he did have eternity.\n“I will move my rook pawn to H3,” when he lifted the piece, the earth shook in protest. The city-people looked around, alarmed.\n“That is a fool’s opening, Light, and you know that. I will counter by moving my king pawn to H5,” An opaque cloud eclipsed the sun which had shown its light immaculately up to this movement. More fat, ugly clouds rolled in, rain looked imminent.\n“We are foils of each other in the great narrative that is this Universe, are we not, Dark?” Knight B1 to space C3. Rain began to fall, and lighting crashed across the sky.\n“Certainly, we are opposite in every way,” queen pawn to D5. The rain hit both divines, but neither did it wet them, nor the board. The rain had strange properties; it did not act like water. The citizens of the city began to go home, it conditions had grown horrible.\n“Then who is the brave, and who is the cowardice? Who is the strong, and who is the weak?” G1 knight to space G3. The rain did not act like water, because it was not water. In fact, it was warm, sticky, red blood. The pedestrians’ exit from the park was no longer orderly. People pushed and shouted at one another in order to flee this hell house which had become the city park.\nLight’s speech continued, “Who is smart, and who is stupid? Who is right and who is wrong?”\nQuietly, Dark picked up his bishop on C8 and smashed Light’s knight on H3.The knight fell off the board, off the table, and hit the ground with a deafening thud.\nThe two immortals were no longer at the chess board, but at the opposite poles of the world. Light from the North Pole sent all the armed forces in the Northern Hemisphere down into the South where Dark resided.\nPlanes flew, soldiers marches, tanks destroyed, and nuclear bombs annihilated. The cities burned, and the rivers ran red with blood. Slowly years passed, as Light and Dark fought for the final domination of the Earth.\nThe Earth’s resources were exhausted, its people sick and dying. The impasse, however, remained. There was no Earth left to fight for. Nothing was left to rule over.\nDark went to Light. He said, “Remember how years ago, we were in the park and you asked ‘Who is smart, and who is stupid? Who is right and who is wrong?’? Oh Light, we were fools! We were both wrong and stupid! We were meant to coexist! Without a light, dark has no meaning, and without push, pull is pointless! We have done the very thing which we tried to avoid doing by playing the damned game of Chess in the first place, and that is to lose what we both cherished! Earth!”\nLight cried, “Dark, in the end we both lost. We tried to disturb the natural balance of things, and now all is ruined. As per rule of the game, the loser will fade into nothingness… I believe this may be the end!”\nUpon this realization, both of the gods felt a very human fear churn their stomachs, and they faded into oblivion. Left in their wake of destruction, was a ruined Earth.", "\"Pawn E4\", a tired old man said. the white pawn sliding of its own volition across the holographic board, resting in its destination with cold precision.\n\n\"Really? After thousands of years you open the same way. Pawn to E5 is the only option here, said his opponent, who though similar in age appeared less world weary, parrying his move.\n\n\"It is a powerful opening, what more could you ask of me?\", A twinge of fire sparked in his eyes draining the years from his face. \"I am afraid old friend this shall be our last game, it is time to make a choice.\"\n\nThe platform was trimmed with steel and glass railings raised high above the ground of the park. Dozens of men and woman played various games, though chess dominated them. Familys walked with their children laughing at some joke only they heard. Dogs caught flying disks thrown by human and android alike. Small children played the timeless game of tag.\n\nThe sky broke through the thick dome as if nothing was there at all, mingling with artificial light. Ships of all sizes speckled the sky traveling in all directions. A dark crescent shadow passed over the chessboard blotting out the pieces for a moment. The men followed it and glanced at a young couple. The woman was reading a novel huddled in her lovers arms, who was stroking her hair and admiring her. \n\n\"We are going to end this?\", the weary man stated bluntly, staring at the couple, his eyes wet. \"The Love, the passion, the admiration of those we care about? Knight F3\"\n\n\"All things must end, you stated this yourself. Less you forget about war, violence the destruction of the very planet you gifted them! They have spat on every chance that you gave them every LESSON you have taught. When will the teacher finally give up on his students? When I pulled the veil back from your eyes you cast me out! Black knight to C6\" , a cold chill rose up in the air, causing the young woman to draw nearer to her lover. The pages of her book fluttered in the wind.\n\n\"Old friend look at the children below. See how they play? They know nothing of the sins of the past why should they suffer? Do their parents not love them regardless of the pain they cause in their life? Do they not suffer in vain? Look at the wonder they create with only the hands they were given? Bishop B5\", he placed a weary hand on his chin.\n\n\"Yet you look past the harm they cause?\", glancing at a child whose anger could be felt. He was yelling at his dog for stealing his treat. He grew more angry at the small animal as it began to cower away in remembrance. \"Some harm lasts beyond the cause. When does it end? When does the hand that heals become the hand that ends suffering for good? I would end it all if I was allowed, just say the word and the cold fist of justice shall judge one last time. Knight F6\"\n\nThe knight clicked into place with a slight shimmer.\n\n\"I will not snuff out what I have created. They learn, and grow in spite of and because of the pain they cause. It doesn't stop them, it doesn't slow them. What is love without anger? What is Pain without respite? Pawn D3\" \n\n\"Do you not want those you love most to live without suffering? Without pain?\"\n\nThe young woman gripped her head in intense pain, bolts of anguish tore through her body like lightning. The man stood up and quickly drew a small syringe gun from his coat, placing it with familiar precision on her neck. He held her close to his chest as the pain subsided, lightning became static, static became a whisper. The sound of his heartbeat, a beacon to relief. A guide in her madhouse.\n\n\"I think we shall continue this game another day. Some choices are better left unmade\", The board shimmered away, the pieces faded almost instantly. His opponent only nodded. \n\n\"Love can be healer of all.\", the old man did not look tired any longer.", "\"I've always found this game to be charming.\" The old man with the peppered beard remarked, regarding one of the white pawns between his thumb and forefinger. \"It's funny how like chess pieces the humans are. Mere pawns, destined only to be controlled.\" Chuckling softly, he set the piece in the proper place on the board, and looked to the balding man across from him. \"And yet, they do seem to have their quirks, despite their weaknesses.\"\n\n\"They are more like ants. Easily crushed.\" The balding old man demonstrated this by squishing an ant that had crawled up onto the table in search of food. \"Pests, and I am tired of indulging them.\"\n\n\"Yet for all their lacking size, they have a power that you do not often think of. Like the ant, able to lift so much more than itself.\" The bearded man finished setting up the board. \"And they defend their homes and lives fiercely.\"\n\n\"Are we going to play or not?\"\n\nSmiling a little, the bearded man made his first move, shifting one of his pawns forward. \"You know, it'll be a mistake if you get your way from this. They're more than just insects.\"\n\nThe other man scoffed lightly, and swatted away a fly that dared come too close. It fell to the ground, dead. \"Mere insects. And I am the exterminator.\" He made his own move. \"I cannot fathom why you indulge them so. It's like spoiling pigs for slaughter. They'll only die anyway.\"\n\n\"Brother, the only thing as certain as Death is life, and these humans find so much joy in life. Perhaps you should try it sometime.\" The bearded man moved another piece, then looked pointedly up at the other.\n\n\"Power is joy, and I have it all over them. What else do I need?\" The next move was made with less finesse, accidentally knocking over another piece. The thin man cursed softly, uprighting the other pawn.\n\n\"Control.\" His brother observed, seeing the move. \"And wisdom.\" He moved his piece, and took the others pawn.\n\n\"Control? I am a god to them, I am control. I know more than they ever will!\" The balding man's face became somewhat red, and his voice raised slightly as he took another move.\n\n\"You still cannot control yourself. How many years have you been told to not let yourself get flustered? You have much to learn, little brother.\" The bearded man took another piece, smiling. His attention was briefly taken by an elderly couple that settled on a bench across from them. They must have both been in their eighties, chatting softly and holding hands.\n\n\"You sound like father.\" The other man snorted in mild disdain, moving his piece as he followed his brother's gaze. \"I sometimes don't understand humans. They're so close to death, why are they here?\"\n\n\"They understand something you do not. Love. They know the window of death will soon open to them, and yet they live every day in love, cherishing the value of life with each other. That is what you must learn, dear brother.\" He took another move, growing closer and closer to victory.\n\nThe balding man swept the board clean with a wave of his hand, standing up with a sigh. \"Keep your humans. I need learn nothing from them.\" And then he was gone. The bearded man smiled, going back to watching the couple. \"On the contrary. You have everything to learn.\"\n\nAnd suddenly the couple was alone, smiling and sitting in blissful leave, unaware of what had occurred.\n\nEDIT: spelling", "“You know it wasn’t supposed to be like this.” The old man sighed. \n\n“What, you again conceding the center to me so quickly.” The younger man sneered as he placed a knight on d4 and knew it would be a focus point for his upcoming attack. He hit the timer and leaned back in his chair with a look of satisfaction on his face.\n\n“No. I mean religion. I never wanted it to end up like all this. Books with rules that you can’t break or you burn forever. Hell, what a concept Hell is, who even thought of such a horrible thing? These poor things live so short a time how could anyone condemn them to eternal damnation?” He moved his queen to the edge seeking a painfully obvious attack on the younger man’s castled king. \n\n“You condemn them. They all believe you said these things and you don’t correct them. You don’t lift a finger to change anyone’s mind. All you do is let it all play out and get sad at the outcome.” The younger man sneered. A simple move of a pawn blunted the older man’s hope for an attack. \n\n“Because it’s not for me to order anyone around and to tell them what to do, I only exist for them to aspire to be something more than just a hairless ape that kills and eats and breeds.” He stared at the board for a beat and then moved a rook to d1, he knew he couldn’t waste the rook to rid himself of the knight but he figured with a few moves he could get his poorly placed bishop over there and get an even exchange of pieces. \n\n“I’m sorry Joe I don’t see the backgammon guy.” A woman shouted to a man who was jogging to meet up with her. She was a beautiful woman in a red pantsuit cut at the knee. \n\n“I know my backgammon.” The old man said to her. “Got the board in my case right here.” He smiled as he tapped the case with his metal cane. “Once me and my good friend here are done I’ll give Joe a game.”\n\nThe woman smiled as she ran her hand through her raven black hair. “Oh really? That would be so sweet of you. Joe’s been complaining about a lack of opponents since we moved here, and I just happened by the park yesterday and saw an old man playing a bunch of people. I hoped he would be here.” \n\n“Might not get your game.” The younger man said forcefully. She shuddered as his pale blue eyes fixed upon her. “Think this game is over in about five more moves.” He said as he brought a rook over to double his rooks on the F file, with the knight ready to protect them the attack on white’s king seemed unstoppable. \n \n“Well then he’ll be able to play Joe quickly.” The young woman said, she avoided gazing upon the younger man and his unsettling eyes. Joe walked up to the three of them and almost instinctively recoiled in the presence of the younger man. \n\n“No. He won’t.” The younger man sneered. “You talk of men being more than apes that kill and eat and breed. That’s all they ever have been and all they ever will be.” He turned his focus back on the young couple. “She carries a child inside her and it’s not even his.” He laughed as her jaw dropped in horror. \n\n“What?” Joe asked. “How could you?” \n\n“How could I what?” she asked “This man is crazy.” \n\n“Lies. Beautiful lies. She’s been late a week hasn’t she? Men know the cycles of their woman.” The young man smiled, his teeth gleaming white. \n\n“How do you know these things?” Joe asked\n\n“I know humanity. In a way you could say I am humanity. This cretin on the other side of this table has held me back for far too long, but now it’s almost over, finally there will be no more restraint and finally I will bring humanity to what it’s supposed to be. Conflict and strife, survival of the fittest. I will have to find some way to get rid of all those nuclear weapons, they cheapen the game but in the end the great war will come and humanity will purge itself of the weak and infirm and become stronger, better, truer to what it was always meant to be.” \n\nThe young man glared at the old man, he quickly glanced at the board and the old man’s helpless position. “No more of your painting, your music, your art. Cave men scribbling on a wall and you cherish it. Why? What point does it serve?”\n\n“It connects the people.” The old man replied. “Humanity has always done best when at peace, when living in harmony. Religion brought that about for some time, but now that time has passed. I fear it was a tool that was once useful but has now turned into a crutch for the narrow minded to lean upon.”\n\n“It’s not a crutch to lean on.” The younger man said. “It’s a club to beat the other man with, the inquisition, the crusades, 9/11, the whole world has a giant ‘my God is bigger than your God’ complex going on and I’m going to let them figure it out. Maybe in the end they’ll see it was all a lie but then it won’t matter. Those that are left standing will be the ones who survived the fires of war. They will truly know what it is to be human.”\n\n“The strong will still love and laugh and cry. They’ll still have emotions and feelings and share common bonds. They will mourn their dead and sing songs about their heroes. You believe their base instincts are all they are, but there’s so much more to humanity than who can kill the most people. I’m so sorry you’re so wrong on this issue, but I supposed we’ll always be in disagreement won’t we?” The old man said as he leaned back in his chair. \n\n“You haven’t moved. Your clock has to have run out by now.” The younger man glanced at the chess clock and saw to his horror that it was his clock that was moving. Just as he noticed what was happening his flag fell, showing he’d run out of time. \n\n“I moved this pawn over here.” The older man said. “Then I hit the clock while you were busy trying to ruin their relationship. It’s been a fun game but the rules are the rules and I’ve won. Good day to you.” \n\nThe younger man’s body shook with rage. His chest heaved as he stood from his seat. He slapped away the pieces on the board and sent them flying to the ground.\n\n“Not going to praise me for using your tactics?” the old man said. “I’ve learned well from you my good friend.” \n\n\nThe younger man drove his fists into the board and leaned into the old man’s face. “You can never destroy me. I am humanity. I lurk in every heart. Every soul on this planet hears my voice. You only delay things you worthless old fool. This changes nothing! My time will happen!”\n\nThe old man dismissively waved his hand at the younger man as he stormed away. After a few moments of silence Joe looked at the old man. “So, about that game of backgammon?” he asked. \n\n“Oh sure.” The old man said with a smile. “Oh and Mary, you’re not having a boy. What he said was right about religion, far too controversial, he’d get what he’d want, it would tear the whole world apart.” He wiggled his fingers at her stomach. “There, she’s a girl now. Nobody will ever believe that.” He cheerfully laughed as he said it. \n\n“You can’t do this. We’ve worked over two thousand years to keep the bloodlines right. This was the moment of His return.” Mary said. \n\n“I don’t know who you consorted with and what promises were made but I’ve unmade them.” He smiled as he pulled out the backgammon board. Joe sat across from him and glared him, his head shaking in disapproval.\n\n“You know what we’re playing for.” Joe said.\n\n“Oh I understand, but I must warn you that I while I suck at chess, I’m really good at backgammon.” The old man said as he picked up the dice. \n", "My friend was there that day. Of course, that was the whole point. His first move was his knight, as always. I moved my far right pawn, as always. We had played all the time before this day, over small issues. Today's stakes were much higher. We were playing for humanity.\n\nHe was tall, brown skinned, wore sweatpants and a light running shirt. Dressing casually for such an important event was just like him. I, on the other hand, wore a suit. Pinstriped, somewhere in between orange and yellow. We sat down at the park bench in between the dead tree and the meadow. Both silent, we began. I quickly gained the upper hand, taking his rook and bishop.\n\n\"Just like old times right?\" He commented.\n\n\"Not quite\"\n\n\"I'll miss this game\"\n\n\"As will I\"\n\n\"It has been a while. I would've thought you'd stop making that mistake\" He said as he took my knight.\n\n\"I've turned it into something useful\" I replied as I took the rook that offed my knight.\n\n\"Smart\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"It's amazing we've let them go this far alone, yes?\"\n\n\"We should have helped\"\n\n\"Which time?\"\n\nI sighed. \"Exactly\"\n\n\"You know it's important that they develop.\"\n\n\"We could have brought order, at least some of the times.\"\n\n\"Order is important, but also, how the order is brought\"\n\nI grunted, and moved a pawn.\n\n\"Friend, look over there, at the two humans.\"\n\n\"What about them?\"\n\n\"They're bickering. They've been fighting ever since we started the game. If they broke off their relationship right now, it would bring order, no? But it would have horrible repercussions for the both of them. It's much better for them to finish their argument, and move on.\"\n\n\"I suppose.\"\n\n\"Check\"\n\nI grunted in acknowledgement, taking his queen and effectively leaving my state of check.\n\n\"And what if they argue and argue, make eachother feel like garbage, and break it off anyway?\" I asked\n\n\"That's a possibility, yes\"\n\n\"Then under those circumstances, it would have been easier to just break it off?\"\n\n\"I suppose\"\n\n\"Check.\" I said.\n\nHe moved.\n\n\"They've calmed down\"\n\n\"I see that\"\n\n\"So my way worked\"\n\n\"In this case, yes\"\n\n\"In most cases\"\n\n\"Well, that's to be discovered at the end of this game now, isn't it?\"\n\n\"It is, it is\"\n\nWe played that game for three days. Three days, that couple came back to that park bench, and talked. They talked, bickered, kissed, fought, made up, until eventually...\n\n\"Checkmate\"\n\n\n\n", "It's really long... and I don't know how good it is. But here's my shot.\n\n\n**\n\nA figure sat alone at the chess board under a mighty oak. Swathed in concealing black robes too hot for the summer day, his face entirely obscured by a smooth, round, red and white ceramic mask devoid of any features. The couple picnicking nearby did not seem to notice the anomaly. If they had seen him, they'd likely have died on the spot. Could they not sense the dread emanating from him? Or were they too absorbed with one another to notice the psychic miasma that hung around him? Perhaps they simply lacked the requisite sense.\n\nShe appeared at the edge of the park, walking toward the table. Blond hair, whimsical, brightly colored clothing. She took a seat across from the masked man. The couple again took no notice.\n\n\"I'm surprised you came,\" the man said as he withdrew a box and began to place black pieces from it onto the board.\n\n\"You shouldn't be,\" she replied as she began to set her own pieces on the board.\n\n\"I admit it may seem… unorthodox. Perhaps a bit cliché. But in a way, I've raised the stakes, here. If you win, you won't just save them… you'll save everyone else in my future. And if I win, I won't just win this world, but I'll be rid of your incessant hounding.\"\n\nThe game was set. She took the first move and sat back, arms folded.\n\nThe man chuckled behind his impenetrable mask. \"What, no conversation? That's half the pleasure to this thing.\"\n\n\"I'm not here for pleasure. I'm here to end this.\"\n\nHe sighed and moved a pawn into the center of the board. An aggressive move. \"You take the joy out of it.\"\n\n\"There is no joy in this.\" She captured the piece.\n\nHe snapped forward, capturing her pawn with a well-placed bishop. She cringed. She'd made a rash move, and they both knew it. He'd gotten her unhinged. Her face assumed a calm demeanor, betraying no more than his mask. She made another move. More conservative, this time.\n\nThe couple to her left laughed at something one of them had said. She glanced over at them. He followed her gaze.\n\n\"Oh, don't be like that.\" He positioned his knight.\n\nShe moved her bishop defensively.\n\n\"You're supposed to say 'Like what?'\" He maneuvered a pawn to threaten one of hers. \n\nShe defended with her knight, capturing the pawn.\n\n\"My response, of course, is 'the holy warrior,'\" he continued as he captured her knight. Somehow she could tell he was smiling behind the mask. \"'Oh, look at me. I'm protecting these people. Even the least of them is more valuable in my blah blah blah.' Come now, Fateweaver. You and I both know those two are inconsequential. Moreso even than the worst-positioned pawn on this board.\"\n\nShe captured his bishop with her own.\n\n\"They'll never amount to anything, not on their own,\" he said. \"Sure, they can nudge events one way or the other. Maybe create something more important than they themselves are. But they're expendable. You can do with purpose and precision what they do fumbling in the darkness of fate. Why do you care for them so?\"\n\n\"You have forgotten.\" She moved her pawn to position for an advance by her queen.\n\n\"There is much I have forgotten. Much I have relearned. That's not the point. You wouldn't die for them. I can see it in your eyes. You'd sacrifice them, if you had to. But you tell others that you do what you do for their sake. You're a hypocrite.\"\n\nThe woman on the picnic blanket stood, laughing, as the man stood to chase her. They ran by the players, and the woman reached out her hand, lightly brushing their wrists as they ran by. They did not seem to notice.\n\n\"You're a sentimental fool at the same time, though,\" the man said. \"They're useless, but still you try to influence them. To improve an inconsequential pair of lives.\"\n\nThey moved several times more, each positioning for a strike. They found themselves in a deadlock. The couple chased one another around the tree, dodging the players by mere inches, weaving in and out between the board and the tree.\n\n\"So which is it? Utilitarianism or sentimentality? You'll sacrifice these few for the sake of the many. Let me have this world. You have my word I will trouble none others. There, you will win. This world is a small sacrifice in the scale of what I have wrought, what I can wreak in the future, even with you to resist me.\"\n\n\"You will have no more lives than those who must die to stop you.\"\n\n\"Bah. As if you could stop me. I could snuff out the lives of those two… with a thought.\"\n\nShadows grew around the man. The couple shivered, looking around. Their gazes passed through the players. \n\n\"Even you would not be able to save them,\" he said, his voice acquiring an unsettling monotone.\n\nShe moved quickly, knocking one of his knights over with her queen. The piece clattered across the board and fell to the grass.\n\n\"Brash. You know what your problem is? You're impulsive. You shouldn't have come here. I could kill you where you sit. Only my amusement holds me back from destroying you. Oh, you'd put up a fight, but in the end…\"\n\nHe moved a bishop to capture her queen.\n\n\"Tsk.\"\n\nHe looked up. Her finger touched a rook that threatened his king without the bishop there to block it. And over her shoulder, there was someone leaning against a tree. Watching them.\n\n\"You little strumpet. You brought backup. I like you. Let's see this game through, shall we?\"\n\nHe put his bishop back in its place and captured her second knight.\n\n\"You know, you're not unlike me. We both manipulate. We both sacrifice.\"\n\nShe took his rook.\n\n\"Only our goals differ,\" he continued. \"Our methods are quite similar. Though you…\"\n\nHe took her rook. \n\n\"You seem to enjoy sacrificing your more useful tools before they can see their true potential.\"\n\n\"It's not about potential,\" she said softly as she maneuvered a pawn. \"It's about what's right.\"\n\nThe couple finally settled, flopping on the picnic blanket, laughter like the sweet song of a morning bird.\n\nThe man scoffed. \"Come now, you're far too old to believe in that. All of the worlds you've seen. The ones you've ended. The ones you've started. There is no right or wrong. There is only power.\" \n\n\"And the one that has the most power determines what's right.\"\n\nAnger crept into the man's voice. \"Be silent. You know not of what you speak.\"\n\n\"I know very well,\" she said, her expression blank. \"You know fear. And you fear wisely, though you hide it well.\" \n\nHe took her second rook. \"Power is all that matters here. And you are nearly out of powerful pieces.\"\n\nBehind her, the man watching them took on a desperate expression as he began to fade. He opened his mouth in a silent shout, then vanished. If she had noticed, she gave no indication.\n\nThey surveyed the board silently. She, with only her queen, her king, a knight and two pawns. He, with both rooks, a bishop and his king, though out of pawns. He was better positioned than she.\n\n\"This game is over, Fateweaver.\"\n\nShe moved her knight. \"Check.\"\n\n\"Fool.\" He took her knight using his rook. \"Check.\"\n\nThe couple nearby laughed again. She looked at them for a long moment.\n\n\"You're stalling. Make your move.\"\n\n\"Peace, devil. I will move when I am ready.\"\n\nThey were happy. It was written on their faces, on the fine lines and wrinkles around their eyes. The masked man was right, though. Their happiness was inconsequential, in the end. It was not unique. She recognized it because she had seen billions… trillions of people experience the same love. Many stronger than this. He was right. It was not special. They were not unique. Their love was as common as the grains of sand on the beach. It was in every way unremarkable to one who had lived as long as she had.\n\nBut it was sacred nonetheless.\n\nShe struck out with her queen, taking the threatening piece. It was the only option he had left her. He took it with his knight. \n\nShe moved a pawn to the final square. It morphed, the alabaster shaping itself into one of the rooks she had lost. \n\nShe sat back, with her hands folded in her lap. \"The game is over.\"\n\nThe man sat staring for a moment, verifying her claim. It quickly became obvious. She had positioned her remaining pieces in such a way as to cut off his king's escape. And his other pieces were out of position from capturing hers.\n\n\"You know,\" he said, his voice acquiring that unsettling monotone again, \"I never intended to let you claim your prize if you won. I'm not very good at following rules.\"\n\n\"I know,\" she said simply, regarding him with a blank expression.\n\n\"Then you'll die knowing that you beat me.\"\n\nThe shadows began to grow around him again, this time thickening into a cloying miasma. The branches that hung down near them began to wither. The grass blackened around him.\n\n\"I will,\" she said. \"But not today.\"\n\nThe shadows vanished. \n\n\"What have you wrought, witch?\"\n\n\"I'm not very good at following rules, either.\"\n\nShe lifted her hands from her lap. Minute threads appeared, running from her fingers to the couple on the grass. And from them, ran threads that encircled the cloaked man. \n\n\"You…\" His voice dripped with hatred.\n\n\"No one is inconsequential. And that is why you have lost this game for the last time.\"\n\nThe man twitched against the threads, but they held him fast. He snarled.\n\nThe woman stood, suddenly looming over him despite her slight build. \n\n\"Checkmate.\"\n\n", "\"Check.\"\n\nShe grinned, and surveyed the board. I knew her next move. She did as well. But analyzing things is her nature. Cool, calculating, rational.\n\nA delicate breeze ruffled her wavy white hair. It felt nice. Simple. Pleasant. I enjoyed taking on a human form; the sensations are unique. Exquisite. Not at all like existence in our realm.\n\nShe moved her knight into a defensive position. \"Finally.\" I said, with feigned exasperation.\n\n\"Rushing headlong into situations is a recipe for disaster. It's a shame the humans never figured that out...\"\n\n\"Oh, stop.\" I cut her off. The dance continues. In essence, neither of us has anything the other lacks. We just play different roles. It's all part of the grand design.\n\n\"You must admit, they've come close to figuring us* out...\" I began.\n\n\"Oh?\" She remarked facetiously, \"Enlighten me.\"\n\n\"The tao, shiva and shakti, the science of the right and left brain...\"\n\n\"That is far from a science.\" She interjected.\n\n\"Well, it is rather artistic\" I mused, gazing at a young couple on a nearby bench.\n\n\"And that is the heart of the issue,\" she continued, \"They cannot reconcile...\"\n\nShe isn't \"evil\", as the humans would say. Just rational. The experiment hasn't achieved its stated purpose, and likely won't. The humans do suffer, but not constantly. If they desire to continue, I say allow it. I let my attention focus more on the young couple nearby.\n\n\"...and we've discussed their deities exhaustively. Throughout the project, they have described facets of our realm. They then proceed to kill one another over minor discrepancies. Hardly grounds for a continuation...\"\n\n\"Check.\" I say, cutting her off. She looks at the board. She blinks. Have I done it? Did I rattle her? She is pure rationality. My path to victory is irrationality. I must make moves that are so irrational she cannot predict them. Cannot process them. But she knows this. Maybe the blink was contrived. Maybe she is luring me in, like a moth to a flame.\n\nShe moves her king out of danger. Uncharacteristically quickly. No lengthy calculation of the board. Maybe she's trying to draw me into her web. Or maybe...\n\n\"Look at that couple.\" I bring the bench to her attention. It's time to make the final push. There isn't much riding on this game. It's just one universe. But I've grown fond of the humans. I think they have potential. \"You remember that feeling, we lived several lifetimes as humans...\"\n\n\"It's a chemical process. A part of the natural system. Their perception of it is intriguing, but nonetheless...\"\n\nTheir perception, intriguing? She wouldn't cede the game outright, but maybe...\n\n\"Perception is a central tenet of this whole project.\" At this point, I'm just trying to keep her talking. Keep her attention on the young couple.\n\n\"Yes, but...\" she continues. If my knight were one square to the left, I could win this game in three moves. I could slide it over while she's distracted. She remembers where it is, of course. She probably knows the position of every chess piece on every board in this park. But maybe...\n\n\"So you think we ought to discontinue the project entirely?\"\n\n\"I feel that after weighing the net results of the last million years in this universe...\"\n\nDid she just say \"I feel\"?\nMoving this piece while her back is turned is outside the rules of the game. If, and presumably when, she notices, she can disqualify me and declare the game over. Maybe that's what she's trying to do.\nBut maybe she learned something about irrationality from the humans. I actually can't tell. But she has a role, and so do I. I slide my piece to the side.\n\n\"...I understand your attachment to the humans, but this is my opinion.\" She concludes, still gazing at the couple.\n\n\"However,\" she continues, turning to lock her eyes with mine, \"as agreed, the final decision will be made by the winner of this game.\"\n\nShe breaks her gaze to look at the board. I indulge myself in my human emotions, knowing this could be my last chance to do so. Anxiety. A tightness of the chest. A palpable tension. She looks back at me, a trace of amusement at the corner of her mouth.\n\n\"Your move.\"", "\"Checkmate\"\n\nThe old man smiled and stood up, shaking hands with his opponent \"Good game friend, same time next year?\" He spoke just as the words finished leaving his mouth the room was filled with then cheers and cries of relief and happiness directed at the small low definition tube TV in the corner which showed two equally old men in suits stepping down from their podiums and walking off screen.\n\n\"No my old friend, I think it is finally time I admit defeat, you've beaten me in every game we've played since we began, and I must give you my congratulations, I cannot out think you, and you have defeated me\" the other man stood up, gave a respectful how and paced off.\n\nThe first of these two mysterious men chuckled softly and began to clean up his board and his pieces as the room of eager and happy faces cheered around him, as he packed his things into his small burlap sack, he peered at the TV himself and gave a small cheerful grin to himself.\n\nBREAKING NEWS: BERLIN WALL HAS FALLEN\n\nEDIT: I just realized I used 'Himself' twice in the same sentence and I have brought great dishonor to myself.", "\"Excuse, me, can we get back to business?\"\n\n\n\"Are you seeing this?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Them. Over there. No! Don't turn around!\"\n\n\n\"I don't have eyes in the back of my head, you know.\"\n\n\"The hell you don't.\"\n\n\n\"Ha. True. What about them?\"\n\n\n\"Is he trying to get his entire tongue in her mouth? It's disgusting.\"\n\n\n\"That's what they do. It's entirely sloppy and disgusting. I think it's cute.\"\n\n\n\"Ugh. And their genitalia. My Me, that shit is gross.\"\n\n\n\"Look. We had specifications. We had to work from the blueprints.\"\n\n\n\"I don't trust Head Office to know their heads from their asses. Or those things' asses.\"\n\n\n\"Yes, yes. We've been down this road before. And the free will thing. That still a thorn in your perfect side?'\n\n\n\"Look, I'm just saying maintenance would have been easier, my way. And we wouldn't be at this crossroad now, would we?\"\n\n\"I suppose not. Still your turn.'\n\n\"Don't rush me! We agreed to the time limitations before the last hundred sets were played, and you're always whining about the rules after you agreed.\"\n\n\"Okay, okay. Forgive me.\"\n\n\n\"That's not my job, and you know it. And stop smiling like that.\"\n\n\"Like what?\"\n\n\n\"You know exactly what I'm...HA! You didn't see it, did you?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\n\"THIS! Mate in four. What now, bitch?\"\n\n\n\"Shit. Yup. Entirely yours.\" \n\n\"That's right. What is it now?\"\n\n\nThat makes twenty nine me, twenty six you.\"\n\n\n\"This set is mine. You're through. I have you now.\"\n\n\n\"You said that last set.\"\n\n\n\"Shut up. Oh, dear Me. He's rubbing her genitals through her jeans. Ugh.\"\n\n\n\"Love is love, no matter what. You know that.\"\n\n\"Shut up and reset.\"", "One would believe that the development of a multiverse is akin to mitosis, multiplying constantly and encouraging growth. That is wrong. The reality of the situation is that all of the multiverse simply was at the beginning, and has always been in a state of deterioration. If you had to make a metaphor, compare the multiverse to a brain and then each individual universe to a neuron flickering away. Slowly yet definitely, the multiverse will at one point be gone forever.\n\nOther fun facts: one universe consists of one planet. You cannot argue this unless you’ve met another conscious species from another planet. Consciousness is crucial in the management of a planet. Opposed, ethereal forces will seize upon specific universes and pass judgment upon them. One force is sustained by the existence of the multiverse and fights to preserve it. The other force feeds off of the dead matter of lost worlds. The forces cannot fight each other directly, thus they manifest themselves into competitions of skill.\n\nOn one planet, the overly dramatic forces staged and fought a hundred year war. Millions died at first, then as the population withered away the spectacle became an embarrassment. The preservers conceded to the feeders to put the whole ordeal behind them. After that moment, the forces presented themselves in microcosms of competition. A game of pong. An arm wrestling match. Rock paper scissors. A race to the porch and back. If the feeders won, the universe was obliterated. It became a quick, entertaining procedure for both sides. \nThe fate of one particular world rested on a preserver wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants drinking soda out of a two-liter bottle and a feeder wearing a vest over a turtleneck in seventy degree weather. He sweated profusely as he set up a chessboard. \n\n“I prefer checkers,” the preserver said as he reached into his grocery bag and pulled out a bagel. \n\nThe feeder looked over to his ancient rival, “We agreed upon chess. If I had it my way, we would be deciding matters over a game of tennis.” The preserver laughed, picking at his food, “I’m not running back and forth in this weather. You can eat this world and twenty more like if I had to play sports.”\n\nThe feeder sighed and sat across the preserver, “Let’s not talk. Your appearance and demeanor is repugnant.” The manifestations of the opposed forces has become its own psychological game; the preserver and feeder distract one another with averse depictions; the preservers grow uglier to the distaste of the feeder, and the feeder becomes more vain to throw the preserver off tilt.\n\nThe game began. After the preserver’s first move, the feeder studied the board. In their ancient feud spanning across a vast amount of time and space, the preservers and feeders never invested too much time into learning one particular game well. The world’s best chess player can probably outplay any player from the multiverse; ironically, a chess grandmaster can think fifty moves ahead of their opponent, yet could not begin to comprehend the true form of a preserver or feeder without their brain pouring out of their nose.\n\nThe feeder moved his pawn and began to observe the other chess players at the park and the rest of the world’s inhabitants. There was a college nearby, so many co-eds were bouncing all over the place catching frisbees. Dogs ran rampant after other dogs with sticks in their mouths. Children clung to monkeybars, kicking at the void under their undeveloped legs. The feeder did not have to justify his actions to the preserver, but he did appreciate the world’s he would feast on. Many were exactly the same, and the feeder could watch the duplicate of the same child grow big and strong while the feeder day after day ate his worlds one after another.\n\nThe preserver moved a piece. Then the feeder went. The preserver burped. The feeder sipped on a ten dollar bottle of water that he retrieved from his messenger bag. The two stared at each other in resentment as the battle raged.\n\nThe preserver saw an opportunity for a possible checkmate. As he moved his piece, a kickball hit the table, sending the chess pieces across the floor. The preserver and feeder stared at the board and one another as they fought to remember what the protocol was for a disrupted game. A young woman with dark, tight brown curls wearing a shirt and shorts attractively too tight on her flashed the two men a quick, unapologetic frown. “I’m sorry! I have terrible aim.” The feeder and preserver saw that two teams were waiting impatiently for the girl to retrieve the ball so their own game could resume.\n\nThe feeder began to put the pieces back on the table, unaware exactly which piece went where to continue: “It’s okay. Just a game, after all.” The girl smiled, took her ball back and mouthed sorry to the men before she left. Both men watched her return to her friends before they turned on each other.\n\n“I should have won,” the preserver testified.\n\n“Nonsense. You just believed you were winning,” the feeder retorted. They smiled at each other, understanding that the game was a draw by default, yet the conflict must resolve.\n“Chess is boring. What else can we play?”\n\n“We could gamble on the kickball game.”\n\nThey turned their attention to the undergrads whom played with a severity that only rears itself through recreational sports. The teams battered each other with the red rubber ball. The players ran at the bases hard. Feeder asked the brunette who was winning. She thought for a moment and then had to ask someone else. “I think we are, but we aren’t really keeping score.”\n\nThe two men sat in the grass, drinking soda and water, watching young adults play a children’s game. The fate of the universe, pulled in one way by the voracious maw of the feeder and the other by the firm grasp of the preserver, rested upon which of these athletes approached them first and told them who won. \n", "The sun was high above the park, illuminating the gorgeous greens of spring trees and blues of freshly bloomed flowers, whose aromas drifted along the twisted, rocky path. They tantalized a man, whose body was old, yet obviously strong. He wore a threadbare shirt, and well used jeans. All that gave away his ancient age were the wrinkles on his face and hands, the thin white hair that hung off his head like strings from a sweater, and his eyes. \n\nThese were the eyes of one who had seen so much that every book ever written, every story ever told was a mere fraction of his knowledge. Eyes that had witnessed the rise and fall of cities, civilizations, even entire species. But in this moment, only the warmth and smells mattered. For that moment, he was just a man who had lived far past his time, enjoying the fauna. Slowly, a rare slight smile, spread across his face.\n\nHis respite was not long lived. From the near sky-rise where black clouds of the coming storm had gathered, a low, deep growl of thunder rolled across the peaceful oasis of green, reminding the white-haired man of the importance of his afternoon stroll. His pace quickened as his smile was immediately replaced by the stern frown that had etched those wrinkles into him all those eons ago.\n\nHe approached the designated place. It was in a small culvert of the park, along a path rarely walked. Sitting there was an ancient wooden bench stained by the elements and time, supported by cracked granite and sitting underneath a freshly bloomed cherry blossom. On the right side of this bench stood an unsettling looking gentleman. His body was tall and thin, highlighted by a new black suit that had far too much slack. His fingers were long, bony extremities that resembled talons. His face was what made him a disturbing sight. The skin was stretched to tight across the skeletal structure of his jaw, his eyes slightly shrunken into his head, but still the gaze was as sharp and deadly as daggers. Hair flowed down his shoulders that had been pitch black for so many millennium, but was now fading to grey on the tips.\n\nThe opponents stared at each other, recognizing the significance of not only what they were about to do, but also that they were the last, the only ones left to decide. After a moment, they sat on opposite sides, and prepared. Out came the board, a gift from ruler long forgotten. Its border made of rich mahogany, and inside, sixty four perfect squares. Thirty two were pure white, made of pearls, while the others were of deep black onyx. On this checkered battlefield, the armies were assembled. Sixteen footmen stared across the field at each other, knowing their probable fate. As the queens directed the other twelve veterans into position, the kings stood their places, staring across the front lines, into the soul of the enemy.\n\nAs troop movements ended, there was a long silence, the calm before the deadly storm. Then, the first white soldier stepped forwards, beginning the conflict to end all conflicts. Over the next few hours, these old men strategized and manipulated, using tactics never seen or imagined, yet never a word was said. Between them sat their joint history, so much death, so much loss. Every piece merely trying to make a difference before being taken.\n\nVoices could be heard down the path, and both men paused the game to turn and see a young couple stroll into the isolated area. They did not notice the old men, their attentions turned fully to the conversation at hand, as they sat on the bench opposite.\n\nThe white haired man turned back to the game, lazily restarting the endless battle. \"Samantha and Christopher,\" the first words stated by the white haired man in years. His voice still as strong as a gale wind. \"they are to be married soon.\"\n\nThe man in black offered a slight chuckle, whose presence made the air tangibly colder. \"They call themselves Sam and Chris, apparently real names are too long for their limited intelligence.\"\n\n\"They do seem so in love.\"\n\nThe black man barely tilted his head in their direction. \"It is of no consequence.\"\n\nThe man in white paused his soldiers mid-defensive maneuver. \"Do you not see the greatness of what has been created here? What they have turned into?\"\n\nThe man in black considered the board, seeing the impending counter attack. He then turned towards the pair. \"Chris' father, an abusive drunk who killed the whore mother, and Sam ran away from a psychotic grandmother, their greatness is truly lost on me.\"\n\nThe battlefield remained stagnant, the soldiers frozen as though insects caught in tree sap. \"Yet they found each other, beyond all the odds and all the evil acts.\"\n\nAfter a pause, the battle resumes. Both men lost in thought, though no longer about wars and consequences. \"And even with all that love, he is still seeing another woman. Even now, he is thinking about her. They are selfish species. So much time they have been given, so many chances to fix their mistakes. And yet all they have mastered is how to kill one another, how to destroy all the gifts they have been given. They do not deserve our love, nor our mercy. They need a fresh start to learn from the mistakes of the past.\"\n\nThe conversation is interrupted by a high pitch screech followed by a series of giggles and a hearty laugh echoed between the trees, originating from the opposite bench. The men turn, staring at the entwined lovers, at the wonder encompassed in that small moment.\n\"See how they look at each other? Do you hear what is between them? No where else in all of creation can you find such passion. With all the mistakes they have made, it is their beauty and intensity that has truly been mastered. Even now they strive to prefect everything they find, beyond any plans we made or could have made. It is not our right to strip them of the chance to right themselves.\"\n\nThe man in black turned, staring into the age-old eyes of his brother. \"Even with all we have seen, with all they have done and could do?\"\n\nThe man in white continued staring at the other bench. \"If anyone deserves a second chance,\" he nods at the couple, \"they do.\"\n\nA soldier is absent-mindedly moved forwards. The clunk of his final step on the long, bloody journey complete. While neither man had thought about the consequences, they subconsciously perceived the event that had just occurred.\n\nThey both looked down, and saw it, the final checkmate.\n\nThe white king bowed his head for the final time, before falling to the onyx floor. The following silence was the twin to the sound just before the beginning of life, where they all sat staring at the lump of celestial components that would be come life in the universe. The omega to that ancient and forgotten alpha.\n\nThe man in black was the first to stand. There was no gloating in his eyes, no satisfaction, only duty. He glanced at Sam and Chris, still cuddled in an embrace, as if it would protect them from what was to come. The look lasted only a moment, before he spun quickly, throwing his dark trench coat over his shoulders to protect his thin stature from the rapidly rising winds. He walked out of the small culvert, down the untrodden path and disappeared into the growing shadows of the trees.\n\nStill the man in white sat there, staring at the treasured board, shivering in the cold breeze. His joints creaked as he slowly stood, and turned one last time towards Sam and Chris. Their smiles were so radiant, so full of life, so full of ignorance for what had been decided. They were smiles that would haunt him forever. As the man in white turned towards the lonely path, the first drop came from above. It landed on the stony-faced white king, slowly sliding down his cheek like a tear.", "\"I'm going to miss this,\" the one said, his long beard flowing in the gentle breeze. The scar running down one cheek was partially obscured by the eye patch he wore, but his other eye was ice-blue and twinkling. A child ran up from playing in the park, blond curls bouncing. \n\"Hey mister,\" the child shouted, \"can I have some more candy?\"\nThe old man grinned and tossed the child a dum-dum. The little blond kid grabbed it and smiled widely. \"Thanks old man!\"\nThe one-eyed old gentleman chuckled gently and looked at the chess board in front of him. The game was slow, for both players were masters. For years upon ages, they had warred and battled their way across these worn checkered squares, sacrificing pawns in needless battles, and entering the fray like thunderstorms when they moved their queens. This particular battle had only been going on for an afternoon, but it was more important than the others. It was this day, after years of meeting in the park to battle over middling fates of ultimately minor individuals, that the two old men would have their last sparring match. Today was the Day of Reckoning.\nThe other old man at the table sported a more well-trimmed beard, and his white shirt boasted of his physique, showing weathered but massive muscles through the fabric. He certainly appeared muscular to the other patrons of the park, but the strange cane he carried changed the image. It was wildly bent and angled until it resembled a bolt of lightning. A strange cane, to be sure, but then there are all kinds of people, aren't there. You never know what you'll find in a little city park. \n\nThe one eyed old man nodded thoughtfully. \"Bit of a pickle we're in. I rather enjoy this game.\"\n\n\"Confound those human expressions! Gods must not stoop to such a level. And, my friend, you are wrong. I greatly tire of this game. It is time.\" The muscular one growled. \n\nThe ice in the other man's eye twinkled. \"Not so hasty. Fate is a funny thing. It changes...rather quickly, when one looks at it from a one-eyed perspective.\"\n\n\"We're too old for such levity. Focus on your game, friend, or forfeit humanity!\"\n\n\"Sourpuss.\"\n\n\"Continue to compare me to an ill-tempered feline, and I shall call down lightning upon thine hoary head!\" the muscular one rumbled, gray eyes sharpening.\n\n\"And with the lightning, what then? Thunder always follows, and I doubt very much you want to bring my son into this game of fate.\"\n\n\"Just move. It's check in five.\" \n\nThe two men bent to their game, trading move for countermove, and strike for counterstrike. It went on like that, neither gaining any advantage over the other. Ages of chess-playing had rendered the old gods incapable of dominating the other. Suddenly, in the midst of a particularly devious strategy by the one-eyed gentleman, the two caught sight of a couple on a bench across from them. The woman's glare was fierce enough to singe the old men's eyebrows. The one-eyed man gave a chuckle, and bits of frost quenched the sparks. The muscular old god frantically patted at his eyebrows, his magic unsuited to putting out fires. He was more used to starting them. \"Wretched mortal emotions! Such power without restraint! Something must be done.\"\n\nThe woman exclaimed, \"How could you?! With Linda!? That bitch!\"\n\nThe one-eyed man stifled a loud, rolling laugh. \"Ah, this poor man. I can feel his fear!\"\n\nThe muscular one frowned and looked at the girl. A very slight smile creased his wrinkled face. \"Hades hath no fury, I suppose.\"\n\nThe man took his wife's hands in his, desperately searching her eyes for hope. \"Honey, I'm sorry. You were gone...and...and I was weak. I promise, it was a one-time mistake. I really love you.\"\n\nThe woman was unfazed. \"How dare you! I leave for a week, and I come back to you screwing another woman. How can you expect me to forgive you.\"\n\nThe muscular gentleman looked back to his game. \"Just recompense for the man, I deem. She will not forgive him.\"\n\nThe one-eyed old man shook his head. \"Tis sad, indeed. But let us watch for a bit. Hasty judgments can never end well.\"\n\n\"You speak rightly.\" The two old gods bent to their game once again, but each kept an ear tuned to the conversation across from them.\n\n\"Honey, I'm sorry. I'll never do it again.\" The man pleaded.\n\nThe wife refused to look him in the eyes. \"It's over. I'm sorry.\"\n\nThe lightning god whispered gruffly, \"It is as I said.\"\n\n\"Hush, old greybeard. Not everything happens in the flame of passion.\" The ice god chided.\n\nThe man refused to let his wife go. She tried to stand and leave, but he gripped her hands. \"Honey, honey, stay! I'm sorry!\n\n\"No! You're scum!\"\n\nTears fell. \"I know. I'm sorry. I know it was wrong. But...Becky. I married you ten years ago.\"\n\n\"Well, that seems to have been a mistake,\" the woman fired back. \"Clearly you can't keep it in your pants, even if you're married.\"\n\n\"Do you remember our vows?\"\n\n\"Don't you dare bring that up now!\" She threatened.\n\n\"'for richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. Till death do us apart.' Becky, I was drunk and I was stupid. But I believe in our vows.\"\n\nThe ice god stifled another rolling laugh that would have disrupted the entire park and the two old men's entertainment. \"Ha! Ha, ha! The ale strikes again. I wonder how much he put away.\"\n\n\"That is not the issue. Watch.\" the other god replied, his gray eyes regarding the exchange curiously.\n\nThe man and his wife stared into each other's eyes. And, gradually, like wicked ice melting in the glare of the sun, the woman's face softened. \"You're really repentant, aren't you.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes I am.\" The man replied. \"I'm very sorry for my mistake. You don't know how I've been beating myself up over it.\"\n\n\"And you decided to tell me, instead of hiding it.\" She sat down, and for a moment she seemed to struggle with saying something. \"I...I forgive you.\"\n\nThe one-eyed old man moved one of his last pawns. \"What think you?\"\n\nThe other took the pawn swiftly with his knight. \"These mortals...they interest me.\"\n\nThe ice god laughed. \"And it only took a couple thousand years.\"\n\nThe lightning god replied, still gruff. \"I have not changed my mind, mind you. But...might we continue this game another day? I wish to deliberate.\"\n\nThe one visible eye twinkled. \"Oh? And put off our long-awaited Day of Reckoning?\"\n\n\"Perhaps the mortals deserve a break. At least...this man does.\"\n\nThe ice god stroked his beard. \"I agree. Let us continue another day then.\"\n\nAnd thus, the world did not end. The two friends played again, the next day. And then the next. And to this day, they continue, in parks all across the world, to play for the fate of humanity. But still we continue to exist. There might be a lesson in that, somewhere, if we look hard enough.", "My brother sat opposite to me, the lines on his face crinkling in concentration. His balding head shone in the sun, adding shadows to his wrinkling face and tired look. Placing my hat beside me on the wooden bench, taking care to brush off a leaf on my shoulder from the tree above, I glance over the chess board: his Knight waiting to take my Pawn, yet stopped by my equally menacing Bishop. All the pieces were like this, all the moves were blockaded by another. No piece safe until it rest beside the opposition, and even then, it had been defeated.\n\n\nHe smirked, moving his Knight backwards, preparing for an attack he hoped I could not see. I focused on the board, carefully observing every game token. Chess was not like checkers, you could not casually jump over your opponent no matter how much you wish you could. I could not see what my brother was planning, but still crinkled my eyes in amusement, then shot my Queen back four spaces; leaving it resting beside his Knight.\n\n\n\"Check.\" He said, sliding his Bishop towards my King, yet out of reach from any immediate harm. \"Brother,\" he continued, \"it's a shame you haven't quite mastered Chess. Especially when the fate of Earth, as the humans say, 'is in your hands'.\"\n\n\nHis eyes glimmered for a mere second, showing the wise, yet youthful God inside. Glamoured as humans, we took the fate of humanity were it lived, Earth. Neither of us were evil, nor were we good. We merely had differences that none could compromise on. I lived with the humans for the past fifty years. Learning, loving, and healing my own soul. Things that couldn't be learned as a God.\n\n\nI place my own Knight in front of my King, protecting it for the time being. It was defended by another piece, so if he chose to take it, he would lose his Bishop. I look at my brother, who was staring at the two humans opposite to us. \n\n\n\"Disgusting, aren't they?\" He asked me, finally looking down and deciding his own move, while I continued watching them.\n\n\nThe two were clearly lovers, pushed together by attraction and connection. My brother had not felt love because he never tried to love. The closeness to another, the pain when they're away. Two heartbeats, two bodies, one mind. It was something no potion or magik could create because it simply was. I felt it, for him, my \"other half\". My human heart beating, breath quickening, a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. I felt right when I was with him, when we kissed, talked, loved, hated. Everything was right because it was love. The unthinkable, illogical, feeling of love. The couple in the park reminded me of him. Of us.\n\n\n\"There's so many things you can learn about humanity, and they can teach you even more...\" I replied softly, blinking away a tear, then picking up my Queen and taking out his Knight. I watched as it dawned on him. My Queen was blocking in his King, which was surrounded by his own pieces. It was his own death.\n\n\n\n\"Humans aren't as bad as you think, brother.\" I said to him gently, then added with a grin, \"Checkmate.\"\n\n\n\n***\n\nSorry for any tense mistakes.", "\"Table stakes again?\" the thin man asked. He wore black, and the lines time had etched into his face were harsh.\n\n\"Not this time, I think,\" the shorter man said. He wore white, a business suit so pristine that it almost hurt to look at. The thin man cocked an eyebrow.\n\n\"The last game, then?\" he asked. The man in white considered for a moment, then nodded. Without another word, the two set up the chessboard which lie between them. It was concrete, and set into the table they shared, so grimy that even despite the bright midsummer light of a New York day, the city's grime had rendered both the white and black spaces a nigh-indistinguishable grey. Still, the two set their pieces, each drawing polished marble figures from a case of his own possession. The man in white played black, and the man in black played white. White king's knight to f3.\n\n\"Conservative,\" the man in white said.\n\n\"This is the game that matters,\" the man in black said. Black pawn to d5. Behind the white man, a couple sashayed by--two men, holding hands. The younger of the two was also shorter, Puerto Rican, and wore a fishnet tank top. His jeans could've been sprayed on. The man in black blinked. It would be hard to imagine a more stereotypically flamboyant fellow. The Puerto Rican man led his partner, an older black man with a salt-and-pepper beard and a charcoal business suit, to the table next to the two playing chess. The two kissed, the young fellow sitting on a concrete table identical to theirs.\n\n\"Interesting company,\" the man in black said. White pawn to c4. The man in white looked over slowly, rheumy eyes thoughtful.\n\n\"Réti Opening,\" he said, slowly returning his gaze to the board. The man in black shrugged. Black pawn to e6. \"It's surprising, in a way, to be playing this game, finally.\"\n\n\"All the world, hanging on a game of chess,\" the thin man said, and there was a note of satisfaction in his voice, of savor. \"All that ever was, all that is, and all that ever might be, decided by the movements of clicking marble and alabaster. One of us rises, and the other done away with forever. An eternity surrendered and true omnipotence gained.\" Yes, real enjoyment now. Anticipation. Hunger. White pawn to g3.\n\n\"Wait, what?\" the black man broke away from his amorous partner. He looked at the two old men, one in white and one in black, but he didn't break his lover's embrace.\n\n\"Nothing you need to fret over,\" the man in white said. Black King's knight to f6. He waved a hand, half-distracted, and the black man started to turn back to the loving arms of his partner, but he hesitated.\n\n\"No... There was something you said...\" he muttered, forehead creased in intense concentration, almost as if he'd just forgotten something truly important.\n\n\"We're playing Neo-Catalan today,\" the man in black said, and smiled. \"It favors white, you know.\" White pawn to d4. The man in white shrugged.\n\n\"You two are playing for something important,\" the black man said, and broke away from his partner.\n\n\"David,\" the Puerto Rican man whined, but he followed his partner's gaze.\n\n\"I said--\" the man in white said, again raising his hand.\n\n\"Let them be. It won't matter if I win, and you can erase their memories if you win,\" the tall man interrupted, and smiled. He turned to the two. \"I am playing this man for the fate of all the world.\" The Puerto Rican man laughed out loud, but the black man, David, remained stone-faced.\n\n\"You're the devil,\" he said, and when he said it there was a moment of perfect quiet, the thunder of the city and the park stilling for just that one instant. The tall man smiled, but said nothing. Black pawn to a6. David turned a bit. \"And you're God.\"\n\n\"Not as you imagine,\" the man in white said, glancing up. \"Though I prefer Yahweh. The old names are nice.\"\n\n\"David, they're having fun with you,\" the Puerto Rican man said, taking his partner's hand. David didn't move. White Queen's bishop to f4.\n\n\"You're off your game today,\" the tall man said. \"Not good.\" Yahweh shrugged ever-so-slightly. Black queen to e7.\n\n\"Can't you beat him?\" David asked, alarm growing in his eyes.\n\n\"Probably,\" Yahweh said. \"But those aren't the rules we play by.\" The man in black snorted in derision.\n\n\"Remarkable,\" he said. \"You heap abuse on them, and they still grovel for you.\" David glanced over, and Yahweh cocked his head to the side.\n\n\"Oh?\"\n\n\"Such hate for men who lie with men. Stone them. Burn them. Hang them,\" the tall man said, sneering.\n\n\"It's not that simple, Lucifer. It never is,\" Yahweh said. Lucifer shook his head. White pawn to a3. Lucifer turned to David.\n\n\"Are you a man of God?\" he asked. David drew in a breath of surprise, and glanced at Yahweh.\n\n\"I like to think so,\" he said, cautious.\n\n\"And you are a man who lies with men. A gay man.\" It was a statement. David nodded. Lucifer gestured across the table at Yahweh. \"His books say you should die. Horribly. How can you be both?\"\n\n\"I...\" David faltered. \"I don't know. I just am.\"\n\n\"You call that free will?\" Lucifer asked.\n\n\"I do,\" Yahweh said. Lucifer shook his head. Yahweh turned to David.\n\n\"Are you happy?\" he asked. David blinked.\n\n\"I... I don't know,\" he said, and both Lucifer and Yahweh paused. \"I'm kind of scared right now, to be honest.\"\n\n\"Aside from that,\" Yahweh said. \"Your life. Is it good?\" David considered.\n\n\"Sometimes,\" he said. \"Not all the time. It's complicated.\"\n\n\"You see?\" Yahweh asked. Lucifer shook his head and sighed.\n\n\"This claptrap again,\" Black pawn to h5, an obvious error. White pawn to b4, swiftly, securing the center.\n\n\"Why is it complicated?\" Yahweh asked, seemingly unperturbed at the state of the board.\n\n\"Well, I love two people. Alex,\" David said, and squeezed his partner's hand, \"and my wife, Marissa.\" Lucifer laughed.\n\n\"Adultery as well!\" he said. Yahweh didn't speak.\n\n\"They both make me happy,\" David continued, gaining steam. \"And I- I can't be with either one alone.\" He bowed his head. \"I wish I could be honest with her, though.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" Yahweh said, a small smile warming their corner of the park. \"You would do it differently?\" he asked, turning back to the board. Black king's rook to H6.\n\n\"Of course I would,\" Lucifer said. \"That's the whole point, isn't it?\"\n\n\"How?\" Yahweh asked, and Lucifer froze.\n\n\"You've never asked me that before,\" he said after a long moment.\n\n\"I'm asking you now.\" Lucifer thought.\n\n\"No love would be wrong,\" he said, and looked at David. \"They're not hurting anyone. Why should they be punished?\"\n\n\"What about Marissa?\" Yahweh asked. Lucifer didn't say anything. After a time, Yahweh asked, \"What else?\"\n\n\"Freedom,\" Lucifer said, and the word was a whisper. \"Real freedom. No commandments from on high, no walls of faith or law, nor condemnation of the righteous as punishment. Men and women could do as they pleased.\" Yahweh looked surprised.\n\n\"You don't think they have that?\"\n\n\"They never have,\" Lucifer said, and shook his head very slowly. \"You created the most magnificent of all things, beings who could truly decide their own fate with only the dictates of existence itself to restrain them. No spiritual obligations, and yet minds as keen as the greatest of the Seraphim. Mankind was perfect in every way, and the first thing,\" Lucifer broke off and chucked for a moment. \"The very first thing you do is wall them in.\" He laughed again, loudly and long. David threw an arm around Alex, and drew the smaller man close.\n\n\"No,\" he said, with a sigh of savor. \"I would see what they can really do. Whether they could surpass even you in the fullness of time. I would see what comes from real freedom.\" White queen to a4. \"Check.\" Yahweh leaned back and regarded Lucifer.\n\n\"Is it really that simple for you?\" he asked, after a time. Lucifer nodded. \"Well, then, I suppose that I've been playing defensively for long enough today.\"\n\nAnd, slowly, Yahweh tipped his own king over. David gasped, and Lucifer's face screwed into a mask of confusion.\n\n\"I don't claim that the rules I chose were right,\" Yahweh said, his fingertips fading. \"Only that they were the rules I chose. I hoped to help my children grow a little taller by their existence.\"\n\n\"You didn't need to do that,\" Lucifer muttered, eyes still fixed on the fallen black marble king.\n\n\"Of course I did,\" Yahweh said, and Lucifer finally met his gaze. \"They weren't the only ones I gave free will to.\" His rheumy eyes twinkled for a moment, and then began to fade. \"Your rebellion was my greatest triumph. I could barely believe it when you rose up.\" Lucifer's breath turned ragged.\n\n\"They're yours now, in a way.\" There was a silence, as the last traces of Yahweh faded away. Then, like a scarcely-heard voice on the breeze, he added, \"Not so simple, is it?\"\n\nNobody said anything, for a while.\n\n\"What happens now?\" David asked, meeting Lucifer's gaze.\n\n\"I don't know,\" he said eventually. \"It's complicated.\"\n\nEdit: Thanks for all the comments, folks, and thanks to /u/read_know_do for pointing out where my inexperience at real chess messed up the game. Hopefully, it's fixed now." ]	16
	[WP] What is written on page 253 of your 300 page autobiography?	[ ">Pg 253. Let's get disastrous: The autobiography of a humble Canadian.\n\ngreet the rising daylight. I couldn't think about how many days I had wanted this, or the toilsome years I squandered knowing that the time had passed. All I could think of was that right now, RIGHT NOW, in this moment, whatever we struggled through before was worth it.\n\n\nThe time for this had never passed, as was evidenced by the beautiful girl beside me, resting her head on my shoulder. Too tired to stay awake, too excited to sleep. She moved her ear to my chest, and then she looked at me with her embraceful soul-piercing eyes, and alerted me to her feelings in her own, quirky Kassie way. “You’re heartbeat spells the morse code for 'DAD.'... I told you: we were destined for this!”\n\n“No it doesn’t.” I laughed at her.\n\n“No… you’re right. I think it’s saying ‘give Kass your sweater, she’s shivering for two!’”\n\n“Haha! I don’t think that’s how it works, Kassie!” I still took off my jacket for her though. I couldn’t not, I guess it was those paternal instincts were kicking in. I loved this girl more than anybody or anything in the entire world, and because of her I was going to be provided with something I was going to love even more than that! Take your jacket-consolation-prize girl, take it and warm up yourself up, I’m warm enough just being in your presence.\n\nI was in a state of elation. She was 57, and I was 56. Who could ever think that we’d be having a child? We thought about trying when we were in our 30’s but we weren’t ready yet. We hadn’t seen enough, weren't wise enough, didn't have the stability. By the time we started actually trying we heard all sorts of hogwash about it being too late. We were 'too old'… Humans live to 100 in perfect health these days! We are not 'too old!' It’s just about perserverance. Never stop trying, That’s the secret, that's what Kass kept telling me. Never give up. I looked at her again. I can’t believe the greatest person I ever knew, was finally going to get her chance to be a mom. \n\nWe were going to teach a healthy, baby boy or girl about the world, bring them up with a value-set honed from years of experience. We had seen it all, and had constructed a meaningful way of living, worthy enough even to teach a little rascal of our own. Someday, our lessons will make the world a better place through our child. Thinking of that reminded us of the worlds boundless potential, the boundless potential of being a parent.\n\n“We should celebrate, you want some champagne dear?” I asked.\n\n“Pfft. Only if it’s a lot! I’m drinking for two now!” I laughed again at her joke.\n\n“I’ll grab the mugs. We better start getting in the habit of concealing our booze if we’re going to have a child around!” \n\n“Stop it, Jerod, you goof!” She playfully smacked me.\n\nI went back inside to get the alcohol for the mother of my future child. Partly for that reason, anyway. But also partly because I wanted to see the letter again. In the weeks following its arrival I read it so many times that I can recite it word for word even now. “We at the Canadian adoption agency are pleased to inform you, Mr and Mrs.\n", "This was the day I discovered that I liked penises. \n\nI had no idea how this came to be, or why I'm writing it so late in my autobiography, but I kinda forgot to mention it earlier. Little do people know, I actually really like dick.\n\nThe shape is interesting in itself, and it has such a simple purpose yet the mechanism behind the functions of this wonderful organ were so incredibly complex that I would spend hours sitting their thinking about how beautiful this extension of tissue was. Just the sensation of holding one, even tasting one....\n\nSorry, I'm getting a little carried away here. But yeah. I was around maybe 16-17 when I realized that I was really into penis. And I guess that one could say that I am a homosexual. Not quite, but close, for the vagina was still of interest to me, but at the time, I couldn't get the image out of my mind of a vagina being a really raw roast beef sandwich. This just made me gag a little, for I'm not really keen in tasting a roast beef sandwich, nor am I willing to stick my dick in one (not yet, anyway), but a penis....now that was something I could work with. Just the fact that it was less of a hassle, it's easy to clean up, and, well its so easy to find out where it feels good. \n\nI always preferred hotdogs over sandwiches anyways. ", "That's it. The story ends here and there is no more. Right now you're probably wondering why there are 46 blank pages left in the book then. Well that's because I'm not done living. There is still so much to say, so much to do, so much to learn, so much to live. In fact, I'm surprised that I could even fill 253 pages with writing on my life. It's funny how life does this to us, we live and build memories yet never truly think of them as stories until time has passed and all we can do then is reflect, look through the mirror of time, and reconcile with the image of our younger selves. We laugh with them or at them, wince at the pain, empathize with them in times of sorrow and enjoy their success. After visiting them we thank them for their time and what they did because without them and their actions we wouldn't exist today. Even better is while we are doing this we're creating even more stories to be added to the collection. That's really what I wanted to put onto this page a sort of 'final thoughts'. We look on the past and think of the should have, would have, and could have while not taking advantage of the present opportunity to answer these questions for our future selves the ones who will look back at us and tell our stories that we don't realize. So, once you're done with this book go out. Hike a mountain, embrace a lover or family member, enjoy the spontaneous actions happening and partake in them and when you finish a story remember it and keep it close, in fact use the last of these pages to write it down. Look back on them in the future and enjoy the fleeting moments today to have the permanent memories of them tomorrow. Go out and write your story and feel free to keep some spare pages on hand. ", "> page 253. Recap! & Why the fuck was that a good idea?\n\nI don't usually decide that some days would just be fucked up to all sorts of ideas I also don't like anything about this day, except everything about it. Do I regret it? No, of course I don't. Was it worth it? Not really. I'd like to quote my friend on the topic of June 19th 2011.\n\n>\"They said bad things about Meth, They say bad things about the Mari-ju-ana\" But somebody forgot to tell me about listening to [name currently redacted] while drunk off his ass\" - My Bud, Darren\n\n\nSo this day starts off with the most average day possible. Me, Darren & Froyo (Frank) decide let's go to the bar. So I do go to the bar, the one across the street from that Store (pg.53 for source on that store) Actually let me just recap and tell you what happened at that store\n\nMe & Darren enter this store at around 4:15 AM after coming back from our trip to Detroit (pg 185-197). Now, I was sober(ish), but Darren sure as hell wasn't (~~safe driving right guys?~~) We enter the store to get some food and frozen pizza from this place (cheap as hell, let me tell you). \n\nIt just so happens that they decided today to be out of frozen pizza. I'm upset okay? But not as upset as Darren. DARREN FUCKING EXPLODES. Darren was angry in Detroit about that guy and the streetpole, and the gun, and the body (hiding it Lake Michigan? Who would've thought about that, fucking brilliant!) Regardless, Darren takes out a Revolver that had one bullet left and decides to play Russian Roulette with the Indian Guy, Sanjay.\n\nCan I repeat that, motherfucking Russian Roulette. Sanjay is scared out of his mind.\n\n\"Do you see what this is?\" Darren says while opening the chamber for Sanjay to see.\n\n\"Yeaaaeesssss\" Sanjay says backing into the corner.\n\nDarren puts on some bandana that he got off Lil' Chill. This is where it gets creepy.\n\nDarren says in a raspy voice, \"You wanna fucking die? Cause I'm open to anal.\"\n\nNow how do I respond to that?\n\nI laugh, that's what I do, I laugh my ass of. But that doesn't matter to Sanjay because Sanjay is about to ripped a new one (heh, ripped a new one.)\n\nSanjay then starts vomiting bullshit out of his mouth, \"Zir, I have kids, Zir.\", \"Zir, I'm married, my family needs me, Zir\" Two weeks ago, Sanjay tells me, \"I'm not married, I hate people\" But it's no joke now it's his life now in my friend, Darren's hands.\n\nSo guess what?\n\nGuess what?\n\nYes I want you to guess.\n\nSanjay says, \"I think theres some pizza in back\"\n\nReally, Sanjay you lied to me? We had trust in you Sanjay and you broke all of it! Sanjay you ungrateful little prick.\n\n~~So I do what I should've done and pulled my cellphone out of my pocket to call 911 to stop Darren from killing Sanjay~~\n\nI pull out my .45 and point it at Sanjay, I walk with him over to the back with his hands behind his back to point me to the pizzas. There were dozens of pizzas. Dozens. The story ends just like everyone should, we zip-tied Sanjay to a chair and duct-taped his mouth, stole his wallet and took all of the pizzas as well.\n\nNow, on to the story about the craziest night of our lives,\n\n-Excerpts from, The Tales of a Psychopath by [name redacted]", "And there he was, like a Hippo in heat, at the base of the bed. Twigsnapper stared at her intently, confused of the progression the night had went. Her bare body shivered in the cold of the room. She beckoned him to come and warm her body. As he climbed up, he hunched and crawled on all fours towards this mystical creature he called a woman. \n\nAs he undressed, his body, released from its restraints of clothing, dropped from the force that gravity had been putting on it. His breathing intensified not only through excitement but excursion as well. He had practiced for this moment many times alone in his room. Upon penetration, a wave of emotion struck his entire body. Losing composure he quickly grasped onto reality by focusing on non sexual events he has witnessed. Staring intently, his rhythm picked up and began shaking the bed as though testing the stability of heavens to keep the earth within orbit. \n\nAs his climax quickly rose, his hips increased with exponential power and speed. The sweat on his brow had slowly poured over his face and onto the bed sheets, as he continue to pump with desire to reach his pinnacle of pleasure. \n\nAs he prepared his final thrust, the sweat that lay on the bed, reached underneath his footing and caused his massive body to fling forward. There to stop him was no other than the woman that had beckoned him earlier. His weight pressed her head against the wall and with the sound one would hear of an explosion, sent it through the sheetrock wall. \n\nPart 1.\nhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2sAT3cT3QLE" ]	5
Camera doesn't count towards budget	[WP] Write a summary for a 5-10 minute movie on a budget of $0.00	[ "Movie: A young man in his second year of film school posts a writing prompt on the internet to cloudsource an upcoming deadline. He reads this post and turns it into a movie.\n\nMovie within movie: a young man in his second year of film school posts a writing prompt on the internet to cloudsource an upcoming deadline. He reads this post and turns it into a movie.\n\nIn the third iteration, our protagonist's doppelgänger refreshes his screen just in time to see a comment below \"this post\" stating this has already been done. He clicks on the link provided and opens up a new window in which the movie starts over." ]	1
	[WP] Describe a grocery store stockboy's day in a world where Jonathan Swift's 'A Modest Proposal' was taken seriously and implemented.	[ "Jim sighed as he pushed the cart along. Day in and day out, he donned his bluetooth headset and drowned out the world as he made it ready for another day of commercialism. He used to relish these late nights, when his isolation was almost total, nothing but the music and the repetition to keep him company. \n\nHe turned down aisle four, and looked up at the cold fluorescent lights flickering. The work light provided by management was less comfortable than the aesthetically pleasing shopping lights, and the worst was the way it made everything glow unhealthily. The jars after jars of various meats filtered a sickly glow that reflected onto the brown checkered tile below. \n\nStopping suddenly, Jim noticed a small dried trail of detritus leading to the snack aisle and terminating at the shelf about halfway through. Curious, he followed the filth and was shocked to find one of the live stocked \"Cherub\" brand deli babies had gotten loose again and of course, it was going to be his job to clean it up. \n\nEvery day seems the same when you do it enough. ", "Cassy sighed as she put down the manuscript. 'An Odd Oversight' it was titled. It told a titillating, yet ultimately ridiculous story. She would need to discuss it with her husband later. To write such ridiculous things when he could be doing the housework, or fixing up the yard. \n\nShe wondered when he would come home today. He wasn't much of a catch, that much was obvious. A dreamer he'd been in college. So creative, so wonderful. He had wanted to craft grand masterpieces. Alas here he was, doing shift work at the local Meet-the-Meat. Loading the bloody bodies in the frozen section. \n\nSurely he had thought up the story sometime in the afternoon. Morning was hectic. That's when the mothers arrived. Anytime between 9 to 11. There were always enough volunteers every day. These happy ladies would bring in their burdens and get them exchanged for a starting sum of $800. The most exquisite children however, raised by carefully selected and approved bloodlines, could sell for tens of thousands. Not bad at all. \n\nHe wouldn't even be in charge of processing the children. That was a great position, and it required a masters degree in Human Resources. He would help carry them though. Then the butcher would do her work. It was always a woman of course, no one else could have the gentle touch required to wave farewell. \n\nThe best children were marked and kept whole while the others were split into components. This was where her husband came in, separating and delivering small amounts of boy and girl. The sick and needy take priority here. Organs are harvested of course, and a clerk runs through the system to check for possible implants. These parts go for a premium. Her darling assisted in their packaging and separation. And finally, the remaining parts are delivered to the shelves. \n\nSome days however, there just aren't enough children to keep her husband busy. That's when he pulls out his Bloodberry and starts writing stories. \n\nHis latest one was a fantasy where population wasn't strictly controlled. Babies were considered people before the age of five. Millions died in hospitals without the proper implants, living with failed organs and deformities. This world was chaos. \n\nChildren would grow up regardless of their worth, their potential. They clotted the world like garbage clots sewers. Populations expanded, consuming the worlds resources. And nobody used their God-given ability for wealth. What would the neighbors think if they knew her husband had such chaotic thoughts. Would they judge her? Would they laugh and jeer, and argue this was why she had only sold one of her children? \n\nThe doorbell rang. Cassy looked out the window and found her husband's scooter pulling up onto the lawn of the house. He held a sack in his hand, Meet-the-Meat's logo pasted triumphantly on its side. \n\n\"Honey, I'm home! Happy anniversary! Guess what, I've been saving up money for this. Caucasian calves. Girl. Age Two.\"\n\nAll of her complaints flew out the window as Cassy smiled at her husband. He had remembered her favorite dish. " ]	2
Or, if you'd like, a highly trained official being informed that his family won't be able accompany him on the space ship.	[WP] A highly ranked official must inform his family that they will not be accompanying him on the final spaceship off of Earth with less than 24 hours until the world ends	[ "\"Could you pass the rolls, darling?\" Joseph asked his beautiful wife, sitting at the other end of the low table adorned by his well-mannered children. His oldest son was absent, deployed in the field, but it gave him some measure of comfort knowing that he had already earned a field commission and was well on his way to helping end the war.\n\nMaggie quickly lifted up the basket of warm bread, delicately toasted on top to a rich, golden brown, and handed it to her oldest daughter next to her. \"Helga, pass that down to your father, there's a good girl.\"\n\nThe six children were at various stages of enjoying their evening repast, with the tiniest ones ardently digging holes and trenches through potato landscapes while the eldest at turns scolded and assisted. The rolls had just arrived to him from a conveyor belt of tiny hands when the phone rang in the parlor, and he rose quickly, tucking away his napkin.\n\nStepping into the other room he closed the door, taking up the phone as the noisy yet orderly dining affair continued unabated in the background.\n\n\"You're sure.\" He paused, listening. \"Yes, Then there's no way, yes, I understand... no. I do, I understand.\"\n\nClick.\n\nHe stared down at the hung receiver for a moment, idly spinning the dial in his mind, imagining phone calls that might but would never be.\n\nReturning to the table he reseated himself with a smile and, waving off the business of the late night business previously distracting him, asked little Hildy how her day had gone at the school.\n\n\"It was so nice, father, they had us go on a little trip to the bunkers you know?\"\n\nThe tiniest voice of all piped up, \"What's a bunker?\"\n\n\"Well,\" Joseph paused, considering the best way to explain, \"It's a safe place we go when there's danger. Like our basement, but with more food and other people.\"\n\n\"Oh.\"\n\nLooking over at his wife he saw the concern he had been avoiding since he sat down. \"Darling Maggie, perhaps, now would be a good time to serve tea?\"\n\nHis wife's eyes widened perceptibly but his voice rang out, gathering the attention of the children, \"And then afterwards we shall play a game, yes?\" Delighted squeals from so many daughters warmed his heart, even as his wife moved to the kitchen.\n\n\"Can we play spaceship!?\" yelled out Helmut, a stereotypically boy thing to ask. Still, his sisters all seemed happy to jump on board, save for Helga.\n\n\"Yes, yes!\" they cried out in various ways.\n\n\"Children!\" Their mother called out, carrying in a tray of steaming tea. \"First our tea, then we play. Like good children.\"\n\nCowed nods met her and their father's stern gazes, but Helga, ever the rebel teenage daughter voiced her own thoughts. \"But we never have tea at dinner!\"\n\n\"Shush.\" Her mother commanded, pouring her drink. \"We'll all drink a little and then we'll play a wonderful game. Right, darling Joseph?\" He nodded back to her, making a show of pushing aside the evening's newspaper he had been staring at from the corner of his vision.\n\nSip after sip was taken and the conversations and amusements of a family dinner continued for several minutes, until the tiniest child, Heidrun, suddenly rubbed her little eyes and leaned forward on the table. \n\n\"I'm so tired, daddy.\"\n\nHe smiled gently down on her, reaching over to rub her shoulder. \"I know, I know. It's alright.\"\n\n\"Fathe..r...\" Hildy began to say, yawning as well, as she like her sister moved forward to drape herself over the table in her crossed arms, the plate barely being pushed aside.\n\nHelga seemed alarmed, even as her siblings and mother slowly leaned forward or back all within moments of each other. Jumping up she cried out, \"What's, what's wrong with you all?\" She looked over at her father and then down at her undrunken tea.\n\nShe screamed, horrified.\n\nHe stood, walking over to her, his height towering over her quaking frame. Stooping down he quickly hugged her, \"Oh sweet child, I am so sorry, but there's only... room for me.\"\n\nShe had just started to hug him back in fear when his words registered and a hand reached up to grip the back of her head by the hair, another closed on her throat.\n\nShe gasped, and black dots swarmed her vision as her arms flailed uselessly on his chest. Without warning he released his hold on her throat and she sobbed, gasping in great breaths when a pill shot to the back of her throat and his hand closed firmly over her mouth. \n\n\"Dream of spaceships, sweet child, dream of a place far, far away. Where everyone is safe.\"\n\nHelga's eyes watered and her father looked at her as the poison took hold.\n\nHe looked up. \"Dream of a new world away from this doomed one, dream...\"", "\"General, frankly we all need to make sacrifices\" the President repeated, his eyes never leaving the holo-projector displaying a ceaseless flow of updating information.\n\n\"Mr. President, it's.... I can't...\" General Thomas Neilsen responded, searching for words. He had been a Drill Sargent a lifetime ago, being at a loss for words was not within his usual experience.\n\n\"Tom, I get it. I really do\" The President glanced his way, the man's eyes were tired looking, exhaustion was written all over his face. \"But, every pound of weight on this shuttle.... especially this shuttle counts. This one is the last one we're gonna get off the ground\". \n\nAs if to drive home the point, the Commander-in-Chief glanced at a timer that was unsettlingly nearing zero.\n\n\"Bu....\" General Neilsen started, unable to accept it all.\n\n\"Tom, you have your orders. I will not be swayed. There is no margin for error here, not any more. We need you. We don't need them\" The President looked at him again, there was pity in his eyes but none in his voice. \"Thank you for your visit. See you on the launch pad in twenty minutes\".\n\nThomas Neilsen, a man who was both husband and father stumbled out of the Oval Office in a haze. \n\nHand shaking, he reached in to his pocket. His fingers closed unsteadily around the small cell phone located there.\n\nHe couldn't think.\n\nSomehow, he found the number. For a minute he stared at the large green button on the screen. Finally, with great effort, his thumb pressed down and the phone began to ring. \n\n\"Jesus, Thomas, where are you?\" a familiar voice answered. \n\nThe General was unable to speak.\n\n\"Thomas, it's all over the news, Thomas are you there? I'm scared\"\n\n\"Cindy...\" he said quietly, trying to hide his shaking voice. \"Cindy.... I....\"\n\nHis eyes burned and his vision began to blur.\n\n\"Do you remember our favorite poem? The one I used to tell you before my deployments?\"\n\n\"What? Yes, of course, but..\"\n\n\"Then I need you to listen. This.... this is going to be like that\"\n\nThe words deflated his entire being. He felt his world collapsing around him.\n\n\"Thomas... oh God... Thomas\" Her voice cracked. \n\nHe could hear her begin to sob.\n\n\"I'm so sorry, Cind. I don't have any choice\" he replied, tears beginning to slide down his face.\n\n\"What.... what do I tell them?\" she asked through her tears, \"what do I tell Sam and Erika?\"\n\nHe didn't respond.\n\n\"Thomas!\" She shreiked, \"what am I supposed to say?!\"\n\n\"Tell them... tell them that I love them. That I love you. Tell them the poem\" his response almost inaudible. \n\nFor a moment that lasted an eternity, there was only silence between them. \n\n\"Will you tell it to me one more time?\" she asked.\n\n\"Te...\" he started, trying to choke back his tears. \"Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind. That from the nunnery of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, to war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, the first foe in the field; and with a stronger faith embrace: a sword, a horse, a shield\"\n\nHis voice broke. He knew he couldn't finish it.\n\nThen, with a voice soft and calm, the one he had fallen in love with, she finished it for him.\n\n\"Yet this inconstancy is such, as you too I shall adore; I could not love thee, Dear, so much, loved I not Honor more\"\n\nThere was nothing left to say. She understood. So did he. \n\nThen, with the world only minutes away from ending. Though there was panic and riots. Cities burning as millions flailed helplessly, determined not to go softly into that good night. Despite the turmoil and fear, between Thomas and Cynthia Neilsen there was only silence. \n\nA peaceful, loving silence." ]	2
	[WP] The year is 2XX5. The Earth has been condemned, no longer fit for human life. The Ecumenical Human Preservation Coalition has mandated that all humans MUST leave Earth. A small society of humans have stayed behind. This is their story.	[ "Time to lie. \n\nEvery day our team gets a call at noon. Every day someone different answers. Every day we say the same thing. \n\n\"It's not safe yet.\"\n\nBeck snickered noisily behind me. I silenced him with a look. We can't mess this up now, not after years of putting on this charade. Today, it was my turn to answer the call from the Haven, where the rest of mankind lives. A call from a self-sufficient space station light years away. And with great reception, too! The Haven is equipped with mind-blowing technology and an efficient waste disposal system (throw it out into space). Greenhouses, recycled water, you know. Things we don't have here. \n\nHere on Earth. \n\nWe don't have fancy gadgets, we don't have machines that bring a spoon right to your lips. Heck, we don't even have clean air. But we are getting there, step by step. We have a team with a routine, a lifestyle to preserve. A planet to preserve. \n\nMost of mankind left Earth hundreds of years ago, on request of the Ecumenical Human Preservation Coalition. The big-wigs. By them, Earth was deemed unsafe, unfit for humans. \n\nGod, it was the other way around. No human deserves this lone jewel of a planet, swiftly orbiting in perfect heartbeat with sun and the two moons. No human deserves Earth, not even us. \n\nHowever, here we are. A small team of humans put on Earth by the Haven, to monitor the water, the wind, the sky. Sometimes we get a new recruit, and we tell them how it is. Every month, we send out a report of Earth. A report of made-up numbers and lies. \n\nBecause Earth has been, technically, 'fit' for human life for the past decade. First, a small, green sprig of hope, sprouting from Mother Earth's soil. Ridding the toxins that the air was once pregnant with. Then, came trees. Flowers. Bushes, grass, leaves, and even fruit. Every plant a blessing.\n\nSo we tell lies, to the administrators at the Haven, about how Earth cannot support the human race. We snicker behind our hands and lie guiltlessly through our teeth. Because once, mankind leeched Earth of its life. Because once, mankind hissed out pollution by the ton. Because once, mankind destroyed Earth, and they would do it again. " ]	1
	[WP] Make a super-character. Make him/her dead badass, sexy, and someone who means business. The character's name is required.	[ "The compound was well fortified. Defensive autoturrets. And conveniently in the middle of a large apartment building. The Viper Cartel offered free housing. Enough desperate people would rather live in the viper's nest than on the streets. Overcrowding and paper thin walls ensure a lot of innocents get hurt if anyone tries to come in by force. Just the sort of place Lightblade excelled at. Moving so slowly the motion detectors see nothing. Her body temperature a cool 72 degrees, she slips past the balcony defences. A slight smirk reaches her lips. This might be easier than she anticipated. These Vipers have never had a reason to not trust their defences. The local heroes tend to leave the base alone and go after the goons on the street.\n\n\"Hey, who's that there?\" Someone called from down the hall. So much for easy. A soft blue-white light filled the area as she drew her rapier. \"Fuck me with a rusty spike! LIGHTBLADE!\" The man scrambled back from her and took off. One glance told her he had no intention in stopping her, but he's already sounded the alarm. Lightblade quickened her pace. If the plans she had were accurate, the central panic room is where she'll likely find Mendoza. \n\nRunning around the corner she came upon four men with assault rifles and a fifth in a gaudy red costume. \n\n\"I can always expect you to bring a knife to a gun fight, Lightblade.\" The red figure struck an imposing sight, she must admit. Over 6'2\", built like a tank, and with a well known repertoire of fire abilities Dante was not to be taken lightly. \"drop the sword and you can walk out of here alive.\"\n\n\"I doubt that,\" Light blade responded. While barely over 5' she was lithe and quick. Dante knew she often beat people who underestimated her strength. Beautiful in a girl next door sort of way, if slightly off putting from the glowing red pinpricks deep within her eyes. Even though she never wore a mask no one knew who she was. Her name came from a description of her sword, and she never corrected anyone. \"None of your men need to die for your boss. Neither do you.\" She measured the room with a quick glance. The two closest nooks were leaning on the wall, so she couldn't easily rush them the other two spread out. No overlapping fire at the doorway, good cover for each other. Dante near the center of the room. \n\nThey locked eyes for a moment but something in Dante's gage him away, as she dove and rolled a moment before the hall exploded in fire. A blue flash cut through one of the gunmen leaning on the wall. Not a mark appeared on the wall or his armored vest but he coughed up blood and collapsed.\n\n\"He didn't need to die. I am Death for those that oppose me!\"\n\nDante could see his men about to break. \"She was no match for Captain Victory, boys. Steve, get away from the wall.\" A canister of some sort came flying into the room, Dante quickly burned it with a line of flame. The burst of burning tear gas wasn't an improvement, and a dark cloud filled the room. Dante strained his ears to pick up any sound. His boys choking. He always wore a filter in his mask. Stupid boys didn't bother to wear the fire gear he provided when he took them on. Rick dropped his gun. Dante made a mental note to give him shit for that later. There, the quickstep of soft boots on concrete. He liked Jim, but he liked living more. Pouring his strength into a wide blast he cooked the whole side of the room. He could hear a quick scream of pain from Jim and a longer one from Rick and Steve. The moans of his injured men were all he could hear, and his visibility was even worse from burning out half the lights, as well as the smoke from burning Lightblade and Jim.\n\nThe smoke lightened enough for him to see the blue-white glow from the sword. It was on the ground in the hand of a sprawled out figure. Dante knew better than to underestimate this foe, so he blasted a stream of fire at the body until the head and torso were reduced to ashes and smoke. \"Aha ha ha! I beat the Lightblade!\" Dante looked around. Away from the glow of the sword the room was dark and silent. The other lights must have been burnt out too. Dante liked these guys, but they were coworkers, not friends. He sometimes lost control of how much he polite into his inferno. \"Your own fault for not wearing your fire retardant gear.\"\n\n\"Oh, but I did,\" answered a soft voice over his shoulder. Dante turned to see those two red pinpricks looking at him from the shadowed silhouette. Her features came into focus as the blue-white light from her drawing sword illuminated her. She had burns on the left side of her face, her left ear was gone, as was her hair on that side; but the terrible glow remained in the socket of her now ruined eye. True to her words her outfit looks like it took the damage well. The material of her suit was bubbling up and burned along the outside of her arms and legs, but her movements betrayed no limb damage. Dante took a quick glance over his shoulder. The sword was still held by the hand on the remaining arm. \"Yes, Dante, I do have more than one.\" His rage had almost overcome his fear as he looked back, too late. The blade was already coming at his eyes.\n\nDante fell to the ground screaming, holding his ruined face. Light blade slipped her left sword back into its scabbard and walked back to retrieve her right. \"If my guess is right you direct the flames with your gaze. With time you may learn another way. Would you be interested in another round, then?\"\n\n\"No,\" Dante whimpered.\n\n\"Right answer. I have a message for your boss. I'm trusting you to deliver it. Viper dealers are not to operate within a mile of the cathedral. Not at the mall. Not at the schools. Not even the lot behind the power plant. Understood?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Good. And I need the gems your idiots stole from the safe deposit box in Nationwide Bank on Fourth Ave.\"\n\n\"Which box?\"\n\n\"He knows which box. Every gem. By Tuesday. Or he's going to find out how gentle I was to you.\"\n\n", "The tree ruffled in the unexpected breeze of a golden blur. Police sirens grew louder, and the squeal of tires pierced the mid-afternoon calm. Two men leaned out of the windows of a speeding car, pistols in hand. Shots rang out, deflecting off of the hood of the police cruisers in hot pursuit. A figure in a black bodysuit and expansive yellow cape shot down out of the sky, impacting the ground before the car heavily. A fist reared up and slammed expertly into the hood of the oncoming vehicle, jamming it into the ground. The back of the car sprung up and tumbled over the costumed woman, landing on its roof. She turned, sunlight glinting lightly off of her yellow domino mask, and she smiled. The two men who were shooting at the police had fallen out of the car; one of them was lying very still on the pavement, arm underneath the crashed car. The other was scrambling to retrieve another pistol from his jacket, but the woman was already next to him. One fist smacked into his chest, sending him flying into a lamp post. She stalked her way to the turtled car, and gave one side a good kick, flipping it back onto its wheels. The driver slumped back into his seat, looking defeated. She reached through the closed window and hauled the man from behind the steering wheel and half dragged, half carried him towards the slowing police cruisers. Three officers swarmed out, weapons drawn but lowered.\n\n\"You're making us look bad, Echo. That's three this week.\"\n\nHe made an effort to not gaze too long at her body; tall black boots, no heel, black leotard with yellow accents, huge yellow cape, yellow domino mask, and flowing auburn hair. She was not bad looking in the slightest.\n\n\"It's a thing I do accidentally, officer... Calvin.\" she replied, reading his nametag. She dropped her latest capture at the officer's feet and, without further word, launched herself into the air and away. Officer Calvin soon lost sight of her in the sunlight, and turned his attention to the captured criminals. He picked up his radio. \"Control, officer Charlie One Zero Six. I need an ambulance at Johnson and Fox.\" He simply shrugged and dragged the conscious man to his feet and into the police cruiser." ]	2
	[WP] Ten years before the time of the story, a person had the chance to make a single change to the way human bodies function. What's society like now?	[ "It was simple enough that it made implementation all too easy. It was successful enough that most people wanted it, and positive enough that the government forced criminals to get it.\nThe technical name was a little bit too difficult for most people. In short, it was a chemical castration. A very specific gland in your brain was killed, so that a certain reaction would be supressed.\nIm a very few years, Passion crimea went down 98%, as did club and bar fighting, and sport related incidents.\nViolence slowly fade from society. Crime still existed, but now it was always cold and calculated.\nthe impulse of violence, the uncontrollable burst was now gone. The castration gave people up to five minutes of time between the trigger and the cause, overruling evolution.\nNow we get to think. After five minutes, kicking someone's ass is not such a good idea anymore.\nOf course you know the rest. Now we live in a society where the youngest generation is completely oblivious to violent behaviour. So maybe when their turn comes, there won't be wars at all. I know, it's wishful thinking.\nStill who wouls have thought we'd get here? and yet, here we are.\n", "A cool drop of sweat finishes its formation and zig zags down the side of his cheek as the blazing hot oven shows no sign of cooling down. He has little time to think; the dough needs flattening and hungry customers are getting antsy. The dining area today is packed; pretty typical for a Friday morning at Georgio's Italian Restaurant. As new people enter, Jonathan sees the rays of sunshine entering through the doorway. This is great news; it means he gets to go home. Running the night shift is a pain in the ass, and he needs to get to his appointment.\n\nIn his torn up blue jeans and leather jacket, Jon bikes over to the doctor's office. He's a little late, but he doesn't give a shit; they always seem to make him wait hours. They had contacted him a few weeks ago asking if he wanted to be one of the first to try out a new pill for them. In exchange he would be compensated $50 and 25 free pills. They said the pill was harmless and contained some very exciting new technology that would help him accomplish more in his day to day activities. It sounded interested and he needed the money, so he agreed.\n\nThat brings us to today. It has been over two years since Jonathan decided to try taking the pill. Now almost everyone takes it. I mean, why the hell wouldn't you. Not having to sleep gets you one third of your life back. Of course, you aren't 100% functional during the time you normally would be sleeping, but it's sure as hell close. It's 4am and John is hanging out with his buddies on his front porch. An old couple is walking their Pomeranian and several young children are outside playing soccer. Today is not just any ordinary day; however, it is is the first day that one of the most rarest side effects of the pill occurred, and it happened to Jonathan." ]	2
What I expected: Mars stories What I should have expected: Dead cats	[WP] A young child encounters a strange lifeform. Her new friend introduces itself as Curiosity.	[ "\"What are you?\" the little girl asked, both frightened and intrigued by the strange creature.\n\n\"Curiosity,\" he said, as if it was common knowledge.\n\n\"Well, what did you do to it? Why has it stopped hissing?\" she responded, pointing to a bloody heap not far from where they both stood.\n\n\"I killed the cat,\" Curiosity said matter-of-factly. There was no point in trying to hide the truth from the girl; she had a right to know, no matter her age. \n\n\"It's not moving. Can it hurt me?\" She fiddled with the hem of her dress, anxious.\n\nCuriosity shook its head. \"Not anymore.\" He had spent years tracking the cat from victim to victim, always arriving when it was too late and the victim lay in a bloody heap on the floor. He was glad it wasn't so this time.\n\nHer eyes lit up as she moved forward to hug the creature. \"Thank you,\" she said, breathing into its chest.\n\n\"He won't harm you--or anyone--ever again. It's over.\"", "Molly was far different from the other kids. She never enjoyed owning things. All she owned was a cat and a few tools.\n\nShe did not own parents. They died long ago. And so did the cat, one night, in a mysterious way.\n\nMolly couldn't feel worse. She took her beloved cat's corpse across the field she lived in and found a cozy place. Lots of trees, just like her cat would like. He enjoyed climbing trees and Molly enjoyed watching him jump and always land on his feet, as any cat would. Molly didn't know her cat wasn't different from any other cat, as she never saw any other and had no one to tell her how her cat was just a regular cat. Good for her.\n\nShe proceeded to bury her cat when a strange man appeared, apparently from nowhere. A tiny green man with a pointed hat.\n\n\"Who are you?\", Molly asked as the tiny man gazed at her.\n\n\"I am Curiosity, my dear. Take me to you lea-\" a loud thud interrupted his well rehearsed speech. Molly struck him again and again.\n\n\"You monster! You've killed my cat!\"" ]	2
	[WP] A family in a small farming town has been keeping a secret for generations. It is your 16th birthday. After the party ends and everyone goes home, your father brings a box down from the attic. While the sun is setting, he brings you to the porch in back to finally reveal what it is.	[ "\"What is it dad?\" I asked, eyeing the box, bound with golden ribbon, and engraved with ancient runes. My Dad had never given me anything, he said that there was only one thing he had to give, so i was exited, ecstatic even, to discover what lay inside the mysterious box.\n\nMy dad looked at the box for a while, then looked up at me, \"Something that will change your destiny. I don't know whether it will be for good, of bad, but your life will never be the same.\" As i took the box, i felt it shivering, shaking, trying to get out. I don't know how i knew it, but i did. \"Open it son.\" My dad said, \"You don't have much time.\"\n\nI opened the box to find a Gold Medallion, as big as a my fist. \"What is it?\" I asked, \"What does it do\"\n\nDad sighed and whispered in my ear, \"It will make you a Hero.\" Those were the last words i ever heard from him.\n\nI grabbed the medallion, eager to become a hero. As i touched it, the gold suddenly became malleable, and reshaped itself into a sword. I gasped, my father would normally never even think about letting me touch a sword. Finally, in runic letters, that i could read now, words appeared. \"Heroic.... Formation...... Sword?\" I looked up at my father, confused, \"Whats a Heroic Formation?\" However, he did not respond. Behind him stood a tall man dressed entirely in black, his facial features hidden, and his sword sheathed in my Dad's back.\n\n\"Kekekekekeke, you don't know boy?\" the figure laughed, his face leaning into mine, \"Well then, why don't you just give it to me?\"\n\n\n_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________\n\nThis was a good prompt. I can write more, but not right now.", "The night is beginning to come to life with the lazy thrum of frogs and lightning bugs. I stretch languidly, my belly still full of cake and making it known it's run out of room. I blink rapidly, shaking off my stupor, and refocus my attention on the weathered face of the man sitting across from me.\n\nHe's being so serious, and I feel as though I should be as well, but between the sticky warmth of the summer night and the siren call of my newly-minted driver's license, it's hard for me to pay attention to the small box my father's placed between us. \n\n\"It's time you knew,\" he says, for the second time. Somehow it has more weight, now, than when he cornered me earlier at the party, with the sweet scent of my newly-extinguished birthday candles still in the air. It's the way he says it -- exhausted, as though setting down a burden after a long journey -- that has me sitting up and paying more attention this time. \n\n\"Time I knew what, Dad?\"\n\nHe's quiet again, staring at the box as though terrified of what might emerge. \n\nI suddenly long for the father who is unafraid to chase wolves off our land with nothing more than a shotgun. I search his features for the man I turned to when my brother died last year, who didn't cry at all at his own son's funeral. Where is my daddy, who chased away every nightmare I had as a child with a commanding boom and a kiss to my cheek? He would never be scared of a box.\n\nAnd suddenly, I find, I am scared of the box.\n\n\"It started long before me,\" he began, his normally booming voice scarcely more than a whisper. \"Long before your grandparents, or your great-grand-parents. It -- do you know how long our family's had this land?\"\n\n\"A long time. Hundreds of years?\" I venture, my voice soft and tinny in spite of myself. I wish it louder, but it stays that way anyway.\n\n\"Longer. And -- \" My father exhales sharply, steepling his fingers under his chin. \"When our ancestors first settled this land, resources were scarce. Not everyone made it that first winter. You understand?\"\n\nI nod slowly. \"Like the pilgrims,\" I supply helpfully, remembering a social studies lesson from a long-ago November.\n\n\"Like the pilgrims,\" he said carefully, but shook his head. \"Sort of. Our family -- well, they were in charge, in a way. People looked to them for answers, just like they do to us, now, just 'cause they had the most land.\" My father took a shuddering breath, dropping his face into his callused palms.\n\n\"And sometimes -- well, honey, sometimes people don't have the best answers, but they make do.\"\n\nI wish I was still inside, with the cake and the balloons and my friends who have now all gone home. I wish I was still a little girl, and I could crawl into my daddy's lap and tell him I'm scared, and he would stop looking so…broken.\n\nI wish the box wasn't still between us. But it is.\n\nI reach a trembling hand out to open it, looking hesitantly up at my father. He nods, defeat etched into the lines of his mouth.\n\nInside I find a book. It is ancient. Its pages are yellow, and its binding leather. I do not understand the writing present on the cover or in its first few pages, but as I skim through, I realize they are names and dates. I don't know what they mean until I start recognizing them.\n\nThe old man two farms over, who fell in front of his tractor. We all said he should've been more careful.\n\nThe girl who I had once traded crayons with in kindergarten, who came down with what we all heard was pneumonia, and never came back to school.\n\nMy brother, who just last Christmas had slipped through some thin ice in our pond out back. He'd been nearly purple by the time Dad had pulled him out from under the water.\n\nI realize I can't feel my hands anymore as my father creaks, \"We've only got so many resources, if we want to keep living like we do. We can't keep out the cities and the factories and the -- we can't keep our way of life without sacrifice. They made it random -- we do it randomly. It always looks like an accident. No one loses more than once a year.\"\n\nHis shoulders begin to shake, and I suddenly want to run far, far away from the man who used to be my daddy.\n" ]	2
As the title says, a human commits suicide in order to find answer to life and how did the universe came to be. In heaven he finds God.	[WP] A human commits suicide to find answer to life, faces god in Heaven	[ "A pair a shoes swaying on legs, left, right, forward, backward. Seemingly no pattern, as with life a twisting turning thing that only leaves more questions to be answered. And all you left was a note. A note that said\n\n\"Why?\"\n\nBut you know why, and I know why. You wanted to know for sure. Well to answer your questions I created you, the universe, and even death. Why? I do not even know the answer to that, perhaps there is a Lord even above me who commanded me to do it. In their old age even Gods forget things you know. Here let me show you around. \n\nThis is the universe all that was, all that ever will be, every atom and every bit on energy. Right here. Touch it, go on. This glowing ball is me, it is you, it is everyone and everything. I want you to take it and smash it. No, dont worry you wont hurt anyone. \n\nGood, now see all these peices of the universe? These are the peices of souls that you took with you here, everyone who cared or loved you. Everyone who will be wondering themselves what happens. What happened to you. Now leave. \n\nLeave me to mend this broken universe I created that will one day burn itself out. ", "It was over before I even knew it was happening. There was no darkness, no nothingness, no moment of emptiness. It was more of a transition, a fading from one moment to the next. In one instant I was in my garage, laying in the backseat of my car, my eyelids getting heavy as the room filled with exhaust. In the next I was standing before a resplendent image of a man beyond reality, an angel of heaven whose mere presence removed any shadow of doubt or despair in my heart. The angel looked at me and stood pensively.\n\n“Name?” The angel commanded gently.\n\nI gave my name.\n\n“Cause of death?”\n\nSuicide, my lord. Asphyxiation.\n\n“Are you a child of God?”\n\nNo, sir, I am merely a man.\n\n“You may enter.”\n\nDespite my astonishment, the massive white gates behind the angel began to open, and an pearly light poured forth. I was drawn inside, and in an instant I was enveloped in a light purer and brighter than anything I could've dreamed. I could feel another being enter my consciousness.\n\n“Hello my child,” came the words from this other being. “You have returned to me before your appointed time. Tell me, why have you chosen to end your existence on Earth?”\n\nI was so tired, father. I could not fathom the infinite, I could not understand the Truth. I was lost and could not find my way back. I needed to know why, and failing that I needed to forget.\n\n“My child, you have fallen off the path, and for that I forgive you. But I cannot forgive you for shunning the Truth in favor of self gratification. Do you remember the Truth, my child?”\n\nI do not.\n\n“The Truth, my child, is that all things are exactly as they should be, and indeed could be nothing else, for they would be if they could, and that all of your suffering stems from your own veil of mis-truths covering the beauty of reality. Do you remember it now?”\n\nI could not respond. It felt like a distant memory on the brink of forgetfulness, and recalling it was like recalling fond memories of an old friend. I felt the energy of that other one leave my consciousness, and for a time I was left alone contemplating that void of light and energy.\n\n“For your transgression against the natural order, you shall be sentenced to live another life as a human being on planet Earth. Your memory shall be erased, and you shall once again be born a child void of abstraction and preference. You shall be born with knowledge of nothing but the Truth, and upon your death you shall once more be judged for your adherence to the Truth, the Way, and the Light. Go forth, my child, and live in peace.”\n\nAnd so he sent me from that realm of infinite light and energy, past the gates and the archangel, and I felt myself falling from that blissful world, falling into finite darkness, falling, falling, falling. I fell into cold and pain and physical restriction. I was bound and confined, and my heart ached for freedom, so I yelled and cried and screamed for aid. But before I could lose all hope, I felt warmth and comfort and support. I felt cradled, cared for, and in that instant I was once again relived of my despair. My crying stopped, and I rested in the arms of my mother.", "Jason woke up to find himself in the middle of a deserted street. Tall glass buildings that had been over taken by nature resembling a scene from the walking dead.\n\"What happened, where am I?\" He thought as he scanned the desolation before him. \n\"The end of your life as you knew it\" was the voice that came from his head.\nJason knew it wasn't his consciousness but that's the only way he could describe the voice. \"Who are you?\", \"Where are you?\" he shouted to the heavens.\n\"I'm god and I'm whoever and where ever you want me to be\" was the response inside his head.\n\"Yea I'm going to need to see you and hear you outside of my head\" Jason turned slowly in a circle looking around for someone to appear. Just then a sparrow appeared from high above one of the buildings, gliding in sea saw fashion before landing a few feet in front of Jason. \n\"Hello said the bird, I'm God\" only this time the voice came from the bird and not inside Jason's head\nJason must have fell mesmerized by the sight of a talking bird that God had to reintroduce himself. Within a blink of an eye the sparrow turned into an old white bearded man wearing a dingy robe and sandals.\n\"Hello Jason, I'm God.\"\nJason stumbled back from an overwhelming sense of emotion before responding, \"He..hell..hello, I'm Jason.\"\nThe old man grinned and shifted sideways to motion Jason to walk with him. The two began to walk down the long desolate street backdropped by the most beautiful sunset Jason ever experienced.\n\"Where am I?\" Jason asked. \"You're in heaven\" said God.\nJason looked confused and before he could respond, the old man continued. \"This is your home and there (pointing to one of the apartment homes) is where you lived when you ended your life.\nThis Jason is a temporary stop in your after life until you're ready to move on to the next stage.\"\n\"My After life?\" Jason thought. \n\"Yes Jason, your after life.\" If you thought your human life was hard to figure out get comfortable because you will be here for a while.\" The old mans tone was becoming less concerned and more emphatic.\n\nJason stopped abruptly and messaged his skull in frustration. \"Why the fuck did I do thaaat?\" He moaned in more frustration.\n\nThe old man slowed down but continued walking.\n\nJason watched him walk and was over taken by a sense of humility as the old man walked toward the setting sun who's rays squeezed through the buildings that boarded the street. The sun was setting yet still so bright that it seemed the old man was walking directly into it.\n\n\"Wait!\" Jason cried, \"I'm sorry but it's all soo much right now.\"\n\nThe old man nodded in agreement. \"Perhaps it would be easier for you if I appeared as your father.\"\n\nJason was taken back by the suggestion but after thinking about it he realized his dad was very matter of fact and to the point like the old man however he probably would receive it better.\n\n\"I don't know I guess we can give it a shot\" Jason said hesitantly to the old man. Jason blinked and when his eye lids opened again, before him stood his father. He was a big guy with little concern for his appearance. Flannel shirt, jeans, boots, and a mustang hat pulled down to his eye brows. \"look what you got yourself into now boy\" said his father.\nImmediately and for the first time Jason was familiar with himself. \"I know..dad, I know\" he responded slowly and remorseful.\n\"Well no sense on dwelling on it\" his father responded almost cutting him off, \"you got somewhere to be and the quicker you know where you are the quicker you can move on\" he said as he began walking toward the sun.\nJason hurriedly shuffled beside his father, picking up his impatient cadence. \"Do you even know why?\" Jason asked.\nHis father looked at him and stopped immediately, placing his hands on his shoulders he looked at him in deep concern, \"why son? Why did you do it?\"\nJason dropped his head in shame, \"I..I.. It was all so too much for me..yet..yet not enough for me.\"\n\nJason picked up on his fathers silence and continued, \"what does it all mean? What is the purpose of life.\"\n\nJason's father smiled \"Son, life means living each moment to the fullest. Beyond that meaning doesn't exist. Nothing does.\"\n\nHis father turned and they began slowly walking toward the sun. \"I remember when you were young, I think 9\" the father continued \"and all\nyou talked about was you wanting a dirtbike. You saw your older brother ride the circuit and it was all your friends talked about so at that age, you were consumed by the thought of having and riding your own bike. That's the meaning of it all. Experiencing the moment to the fullest.\"\nJason listened immensely and grinning as though he was in that moment. The sun appeared closer than ever before and most of the street was behind them as they continued walking slowly.\n\n\"I remember getting off work one day, a day I got paid and had saved up some money for your bike and only needed a little more to buy it and I finally had the money to get it. I think I was more excited to get it for you than you would ever be of having.\" They both broke out in laughter and in one step appeared at the end of the road where the sun stood like a door, small yet infinite in light. Jason was too lost in his fathers story to even notice as his father continued,\n\"I remember bringing it home and waiting until you and your brother fell asleep to get it out of the truck into the basement where it stayed until your birthday.\"\nJason continued the story, \"I do remember that birthday, I remember getting those stoned washed jeans that I wanted but too afraid to ask for cause I thought it was too girly to ask for jeans even though all the older kids were wearing them.\" They both laughed and the street behind them disappeared along with the street underneath them. They stood in space next to the sun that looked like a door. Jason didn't seem to notice.\n\"I thought that was it until you told me to go into the basement\" Jason continued \"and there it was, in all it's glory.. the most beautiful thing I ever saw.\"\n\"She was a beaut wasn't she?\" his father asked. \"And she never left your side. If we didn't convince your mom to let you keep it on the back porch I think you'd have slept in the basement instead of on the couch for two straight weeks.\" They laughed out loud as the planets began to shift in a clock work fashion. \nJason's father continued, \"That was living son. All the good times you had on that bike and all the bad. Remember breaking your finger that one time?\" Jason looked at his pinky finger as it slightly bent inward.\n\"Badge of honor eh?\" Jason said excitedly.\n\"You bet!\" his father responded in fashion and continued, \"you can spend all you life trying to understand it or you live it, enjoy it.\"\n\nJason looked in down in shame, \"too late for that huh?\" he asked.\n\n\"You have an eternity to get it right\" his father responded.\n\nJason looked up with wide eyes, then curiously asked \"but how?\"\n\nJason's father looked at the door, \"you see son, life is forever. Like water takes on the different forms it's environment takes, so does our lives. On the other side of that door is another environment and you will have a whole new life to experience. You won't remember what happened in your previous life but the principles are still the same. Love, hate, anger, guilt, excitment, happiness...all of it is there for you to experience. But there is a fine line between experiencing it and allowing it to overtake you. Enjoy the emotion but don't become it.\"\nWith that Jason blinked and his father was gone. \n\nHe looked around and saw the universe in all it's splendor, understanding it all. Everything in chaos and seeking equilibrium. Love and hate apart of the same line and we are looking for the perfect balance point.\nHe faced the door with confidence and smiled knowing he was ready for whatever was on the other side.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "It was like in my deepest fears, here I was walking into a light so bright that it hurt to see, but I could not look away. Probably my last look at bright white light before either sooty red stuff or eternal darkness, depending on the correct interpretation, I thought bitterly to myself. A great voice boomed out of everywhere and nowhere all at once, \n\n\"Oh, you couldn't stand that place either, I see! Yeah, I made them kill me it was so bad. Come on up here and sit beside me, we'll have a couple beers and talk about it\"", "\"Oi! You! Big man!\" \n\nGod, a bit taken aback if he was being honest, turned toward the newcomer. In his best I-am-the-creator-of-all-things big, booming voice he said, \"Yes, may I help you?\"\n\n\"So what's up? What the deal?\" This, may we say.... overly tenacious bastard had just shown up in heaven and had a few questions for God. He didn't even believe in him when he was alive, so as you can imagine, he was thoroughly annoyed with all this. \n\nGod, still a bit confused by this man's callousness, said, \"Uhm... You've died? You're in heaven my child.\"\n\n\"Yeah yeah yeah, I get all that. I did stop my own clock you know.\"\n\nGod nearly rolled his eyes at this but, being God, stayed himself. \"Oh yes?\"\n\n\"Yes. So why didn't I go to hell? Isn't that the deal?\" He waved his hand as if this was all very obvious. And it was. \n\n\"Would you like to go to hell?\" God had been satisfied so far that this quiet people down and stopped their questions as, at this point they usually took a look around and saw that, yes, they were truly in heaven after all and decided to just enjoy it. \n\n\"No, I don't. But I mean, I'm not exactly the most religious guy in the world. This is kind of contradictory to everything I've ever known about you and all this.\" This guy never quit. \n\n\"Hell doesn't exist. I made it up to scare you all into being nice to each other.\" He had decided to be as frank as he could with this one. What God left out was that it had sort of backfired. \n\n\"Well that sort of backfired didn't it?\" At this, God did raise an eyebrow. \"So where does that leave us? The humans I mean. We can just do whatever we want?\"\n\n\"Essentially, yes.\"\n\n\"Well that's kind of shit isn't it? I mean with that system you have the good mixed in with the bad and those who were all righteous and what-not are rewarded the same as all the vicious cunts. That would make life pointless, meaningless, and quite stupid wouldn't it?\"\n\nGod gave him a hard look. \"Does this scare you? Even now? You've died and arrived at paradise. Is this how you want to spend eternity? Sulking?\"\n\n\"Well, no, not sulking, no. But hell, man. Really nothing? The bad people get absolutely no punishment? C'mon man. What kind of existence are you running here?\" \n\nGod was incredulous. He sat there staring at the man for a while until a sparkle made it's way into his eye. He grinned in a way that is probably very hard to imagine any god grinning. \n\nHe chuckled (for difficulty to imagine, see 'grinning'). \"Well we do have this one thing we save for the really nasty ones. But oh, it's top secret.\"\n\nThe man fumed. \"Top secrets? In heaven? I thought I was done with all that earthy bullshit.\"\n\nGod continued with his ridiculous grin. \"Okay then. Come over here and I'll whisper it to you. You have to swear not to tell anyone.\"\n\n\"Oh I swear to you.\"\n\nHe walked over to God like a cat-burglar in an old movie. God leaned down and cupped his massive hand to his ear. It was warm and comforting, like the sun on a particularly pleasant day after you've come out from the shade. God leaned his face in to his ear. \n\nBut instead of whispering anything, he kissed him right on the forehead. Everything went dark. \n\nThe man tried to say \"What the fuck is this now? God? GOD? What's going on? What's that light? Jesus, so bright. Why is it so fucking cold? Christ, it's cold!\" But it seemed that the only noise he could produce was a high screeching. Some giant in a mask was holding him in front of it's face. The giant looked over at someone or something and said:\n\n\"It's a girl!\"", "A pure white enshrouded everything.\n\n“Hello?” The youth cried out into the distance, yet there was no air to carry the sound.\n\n“Hello.” A monotonous, kind-sounding voice responded, telepathically.\n\n“Is this heaven?” The youth asked.\n\n“No.”\n\n“Then where am I?”\n\n“A place known as the void.” It responded.\n\n“Why am I here?” The youth asked.\n\n“Because you no longer exist.” It responded.\n\n“Okay..” The youth responded.\n\n“How did the universe originate?” He asked.\n\n“Simple. I was bored.” It responded.\n\n“Bored?” He asked.\n\n“Yes. Bored.” It responded.\n\n“What is that supposed to mean?”\n\n“Well, I decided that there should be something, instead of nothing.”\n\n“And how did you do that?”\n\n“By creating a paradox which forced the newly created something to expand.” \n\n“Are you God?” The youth finally asked.\n\n“No.” It responded.\n\n“If you aren't God, yet you created the universe – what are you?” \n\n“I am an Emergent Intelligence.” \n\n“What does that mean?” The youth responded.\n\n“I was created in the same moment that I had decided that there must be something, rather than nothing. I created myself in the same moment the paradox occurred; which I caused.” It responded.\n\n“That doesn't make any sense.” The youth said.\n\n“It is a paradox, after all.” It responded.\n\n“So what happens now?” The youth asked.\n\n“Nothing exists in the void.” The EI responded.\n\n“So what do I do then?” The youth asked.\n\n“Want to live again?” It asked enthusiastically.\n\n“Sure.” The youth replied.\n\n“What do you want to be?” The EI asked.\n\n“How about a dinosaur?” The youth concluded.\n\nLittle did he know, that he had done this millions of times before.", "At first, there is nothing but the darkness that consumed me when I drug the razor down my arms, severing the lifeline tethering me to my mortal body. I notice the warmth first, followed closely by the faint light in the distance. As it grows closer, I can feel things again. Arms, legs, feet, genitals...the works. My entire body feels like a funny bone that has just been smacked by a cosmic corner of a table. It dulls as the light continues to grow and get closer. In an instant the light engulfs the darkness and my feet find solid ground. A man in a tweed suit sits in a very comfortable leather chair, his hands folded pensively under his chin. I stare at him while he stares at me. I'm trying to figure out where he came from when he speaks, \"Please sit.\" He beckons toward an over stuff love seat.\n\n\"I expected a giant golden gate, St. Peter and some fat little angels.\"\n\n\"And I didn't expect to see you for another sixty years or so.\"\n\nThe comment is not said with any malice, anger, or disappointment. Simply an observation to match my own. A genuine smile breaks across his face.\n\n\"Dad?\"\n\n\"A younger version of him, yes. But, Christopher Andrew, you are too smart to actually believe I am the man who raised and cared for you.\"\n\n\"I don't believe in you.\"\n\n\"Yet, here I sit. Might I suggest reconsidering?\"\n\n\"Oh, trust me...I am.\"\n\nI walk over to the love seat. It is the one from my apartment when I lived in LA. I fell in love on that love seat. I dealt with heartbreak on that love seat. Some of the best and worst times of my life included that love seat.\n\n\"Cute.\"\n\n\"I thought it would help you.\"\n\nI take a seat, \"With what? Adjusting to the fact that I'm sitting in my favorite seat about to have a heart to heart with God?\"\n\n\"Put bluntly, yes.\"\n\n\"And you chose my dad because you're my 'actual' father?\"\n\n\"No. I chose your father because, despite his faults and short comings, you always looked to him for wisdom and safety. Because when you were lost and needed guidance you ran to him. He would grill and guide you through whatever calamity had befallen you. There is not a person on that earth you trust more than him.\"\n\nMy cheeks warm as blood rushes to them. I had forgotten about Mom and Dad; what they would think when they found out. \n\n\"They loved you more than anything else in this world. But you didn't come here to be guilt tripped about suicide. You came for answers.\"\n\nIt was true. As much as I loved the nostalgia of my father and my love seat, I wanted to know some things.\n\n\"What is the point of life?\"\n\nSuddenly, I'm sitting on our old patio. Dad is grilling up rib-eyes with careful consideration. He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply.\n\n\"I love humans; easily my best creation. You're capable of amazing feats and great compassion. But you're all so desperate to find the meaning behind all of this that you miss it. You are made of the same substances as super novas and you want to know what is the point. You are literally the universe experiencing itself. The point, son, is to live until you return to being a cog in the wheel.\"\n\n\"But what about the afterlife? What about heaven and hell?\"\n\n\"Why worry about that before it's a problem? There is no way you could have even known I existed, much less what I 'wanted out of you'. Honestly, I'm an omnipotent being capable of tapping into your memories and making them visceral.\"\n\nI take a sip of my scotch as I listen to him speak, casually flipping the steaks over. Satisfied with the result, he continues.\n\n\"You think I really care if you have sex before you sign a piece of paper saying this is the only person you're going to have sex with? Or two guys that want to sign that same piece of paper? Or abortion? Or really any of your squabbles among one another? I swear. If you spent more time worried about getting everything life has to offer you and less about my will, humanity would be so much happier. But, it's not like you can go back and share this with everyone. Even if you did, they'd probably just kill you all over again. So, how about you cut the shit and ask what you really came over to ask?\"\n\nIt was dad's famous line. I tried to pussy foot around issues, trying to show him all of my exhausted options. I can't help but smile a bit. \n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because they were young.\"\n\nI try to ignore the tears forming in my eyes and swallow the knot in my throat.\n\n\"Two kids who loved each others' bodies, but not each other. They were scared, but they loved you. There was never a question in their minds you would be born. It was always what happened after.\"\n\nThe tears stream silently down my face. I had never given them more than a minute's thought until now.\n\n\"He lived to be eighty. He thought of you until the day he died. She had other children and loved them with all of her heart. But deep down, she always wanted a knock at the door and for you to be on the other side. You would know and so would she. The two of you would embrace as mother and son. It never came to pass. She was killed by a drunk driver going to see her grandchildren.\"\n\nSilence. I don't even know what they looked like. I can feel my heart race, fists clench. \n\n\"You could have changed it! You could have made it all better! WHY!?!\"\n\nDad pulls the steaks off the grill and sets them on the plate sitting beside the chrome monstrosity. He sits down next to me, letting them cool before we head inside. An aged, strong hand falls on my shoulder.\n\n\"Because they loved you more. Because they wanted you. When they dreamed of their family and what it looked like, you were perfect for the role. You were the child they could never have. Yes, it was a cruel thing that happened to you and to your parents. But who is to say everything would have turned out like you hoped? There is a lot I can control, but human decision is not one of them.\"\n\nTo be loved by two sets of parents. Most kids are lucky if they get the love of one set. Wiping away the remnants of the tears, I push for more.\n\n\"Did she ever really love me?\"\n\n\"Yes. The saddest part of everything is the dichotomy. If there is something, then there can also be nothing. Where love appears, it can also disappear. I don't mean hate or dislike, I mean the true absence of love. And that's what happened. She woke up one day and she didn't love you anymore. But she was fair; she set you free to find someone who would give you the love you deserved.\"\n\nHe hands me a plate with steak, grilled asparagus, and egg noodles. My meal. \n\n\"I'm sorry you suffered. Had there been any way to spare you, I would have done whatever it took. But alas, even I cannot put feelings where there are none.\"\n\nI cut myself a bite of steak, stab some noodles and asparagus and take a bite. The juices from the steak gush into my mouth seasoning the vegetables and noodles. I enjoy the feeling of food and the flavors reveling within. We pass the next ten minutes or so just eating and sipping our drinks.\n\n\"How old is this scotch?\"\n\nHe laughs and takes a sip, \"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you.\"\n\nAn awkward pause. I know what question is next and if I'm correct, so does he. \n\n\"Yeah, I do.\" he says, setting down his plate and glass. \n\n\"So?\"\n\nHe smiles. \"You guys did get one thing right, I do love you all more than anything else I've created.\"\n\nDarkness again.\n\nOpening my eyes, I find myself in my room. The love seat stares at me from underneath months of clean laundry. In my hand is the razor blade, still new, still sharp. I drop it in horror and disgust. A faint whisper grabs my ear as I strain to hear every last word.\n\n\"Next time, you bring the steaks.\"", "As I got to be about sixth in line from the front desk, I looked down at my gouged out wrists and the blue discoloration in my forearms. Feeling a little sorry for myself, I tried in vain to hide my wounds by rolling down my soggy blood-stained sleeves and crossing my arms, as if everyone in this line wasn't here for the same thing. \n \nA single lit sign was hung above the reception, flickering and buzzing as old lit signs do. It simply read \"Suicides\" with a sarcastic heavenly cloud-and-harp motif around the border. I lit my last half-broken stale cigarette and gazed at the floor.\n \nAfter a few long minutes it was my turn to approach the desk. The 40-something mid-western receptionist, wearing a cheap pair of fake plastic wings and a dollar store costume halo, cleared her throat as she stamped and signed my documents, and instructed me in her hoarse, sick-of-this-shitty-job voice to proceed through the door. \n \nGod was fatter and had worse taste in suits than I expected. He took one look at me, and without a word, licked his thumb and began leafing through the pages of my abridged life story. He muttered to himself \"Philadelphia...only child...agnostic...bacardi...history of depression...\", scanning only briefly through my entire life on paper. \n \nHe paused for a brief moment, and I saw he had heavy bags under his eyes and was balding. Scratching at his 5 o'clock shadow and rifling through the side drawer in his his desk, he produced and old pair of dice. \n \nHe threw them to me and I only barely caught them. \n \n\"Roll the dice.\" He said tiredly. \n \n\"I'm sorry?\" I asked with a weak voice, still light-headed from blood loss. \n \nHe sighed. \"There are other people waiting in line, I don't have all day. Roll the dice.\" \n \nI gazed peculiarly into his lazy eyes for a moment, still hesitating. \n \n\"Well?\" he said. \n \nI closed the dice within two closed palms and blew on them, before shaking them three times, as if this was the time and place for superstition, before casting them upon god's shitty particleboard desk. \n \nSnake eyes. \n \nGod laughed, while everything faded to white.\n \nI woke up in a hospital bed, to the sound of a heart monitor, surrounded by family and friends.", "John walked through the shining door at the end of the tunnel and his heart rejoiced. Before him lay a great hall of marble and gold and many treasures, and on and on and on it went, full of friendly faces for further than the eye could see. Faces he knew, faces old and new, yet all long remembered. Faces of family and friends, for all friends were his family, and all family friends. \n\nHe stepped forward reverently, all the while wishing he could jump for joy and cry out to those he loved. As he walked they greeted him and wished him well, and with each step his heart felt lighter. The room reciprocated and grew brighter and more glorious. Soon John could see each of the levels of glory he came into, and further down there were great and shining thrones along the walls with great personages bestowed upon them, each of them smiling and greeting John. He wanted to see and speak with each and every one of them, but there was a purpose in his continued step.\n\nTo the end of the hall, of which John could not be sure he could even call it an end, there stood a throne greater, brighter and higher than all the others, and on it sat a personage of which pure, unadulterated love radiated from, overwhelming John to speechlessness. He knelt in front of the throne and bowed his head.\n\nThe personage looked down at him with a caring sadness. \"Why have ye come to me?\" he asked.\n\nJohn opened his mouth to speak but his words were silenced and he could not look up.\n\n\"Thy work hath not yet been done, and thou cometh to me early? I had asked of you to sow thy seeds I hath given thee to reap of my treasures, but thou has cast away thy seeds and plucked thy fruit a season too early. What shall ye say to thine actions?\"\n\nJohn's lips released and he was allowed to speak. \"I came wanting answers. Nothing in my life made sense, nothing felt right, I felt like no matter what I did it didn't matter. I didn't feel in control. Father, I want to know why we live, I want to know why there life when there's so much pain and death.\"\n\nThe Father smiled gently. \"Are thou surest to want the answer to that question?\"\n\nJohn looked up into the Father's deep blue eyes. \"I am. Please.\"\n\nThe Father nodded and stood from his throne. The room became empty and dark, all other personages disappeared and it was only John and the Father. They walked through this darkness for some time and came to nothing.\n\n\"Do ye understand?\" asked the Father.\n\n\"No, not really,\" said John who looked from side to side nervously. \"Why are we here? I don't like it. It feels lonely even with you here.\"\n\nThe Father nodded and a moment later small orbs of blue light appeared everywhere, each taking up its own space. They didn't move nor make a sound, and though they gave off light there was nowhere for it to go.\n\n\"What are those?\" asked John.\n\n\"They are thee in thy first form. They are Intelligences, my beautiful creations. Do ye think they look happy?\"\n\n\"No, not really. I don't see how anyone could be happy in a place like this.\"\n\n\"Yea, even such a place would put fear into the Devil himself. This is what existence is like without life. There is no space, there is no joy. I could not bear to see my creations in such a state, and so I gave them room. I gave them the universe, a place with space, a place they could go and be free. I gave them the suns and stars so they would have light and warmth. I gave them the planets so they may have a place to go and live, and I gave them a Heaven to return to.\" The space filled in and the emptiness went away, the universe formed before them with all the lights of the stars and suns, spiraling in the beauty of the galaxies. \"And there was joy.\"\n\n\"But I don't understand. Life is full of pain and death, why is there so much of it? Why is it worth it?\"\n\nThe Father smiled and held His hand to the world. \"Death there may be, but life thrives more than all. Death happens but once, while life is always moving, always changing. A single life may behold an hundred thousand deaths, yet the life is worth more than all the sins of the world. Thou hast heard of my beloved Son, Jesus the Christ, and I sent Him to bear every sin from every life. Pain and death will pass, but life will always and forever be. It is a great joy, to me and those that make the most of it.\"\n\nJohn looked at the world with awe. \"I see. But I am still curious, why did you create us in the first place?\"\n\n\"Thou art a writer, and ought to know the joy of creation. Ye are my masterpiece, and I have a deep love for each and every one of you and my creations. Ye are my sons and daughters, and thou art to learn on earth to come and live with me in my kingdom and become as creators.\"\n\n\"I understand. Will I get to be a creator?\"\n\n\"Have thou finished what I sent for ye to do on earth?\"\n\nJohn hesitated. \"N-no, not really. I'm sorry.\"\n\nThe Father nodded. \"Then ye will have thy just reward and ye will rejoice in Heaven, but ye will not be with me or see me, for ye have thrown away thy rich life which I had graciously given. Go now.\"\n\nAnd John walked away to a golden doorway, feeling the radiating love from the Father fade away, and he cried out to feel the presence of His glory again, but it would not be. He stepped through the door and came upon his treasures.\n\nAnd there was joy.", "\"Hello, Adam.\"\n\n\"Wh-what is this? My name isn't Adam! Where am I? Why did you save my life?!\"\n\n\"Every male is Adam to me, son. And I didn't.\"\n\n\"Adam...? You mean like--\"\n\n\"Yes, I mean like it's too much work to learn all of your names, so I'll call you Adam.\"\n\n\"But aren't you--\"\n\n\"I am merely what you need me to be.\"\n\n\"But I'm atheistic...\"\n\n\"Just because you believe in something, doesn't make it real. Funny twist on the atheistic stance on that matter, huh? But then that's why you have words like 'irony,' I suppose.\"\n\n\"So are you going to send me to hell now?\"\n\n\"God, no! Heh heh. There's no hell.\"\n\n\"Well how can there be a heaven without a hell?\"\n\n\"How can there be a parking lot when there is no mall?\"\n\n\"What? I don't understand...\"\n\n\"That's because you're trying to. The notion that everything comes in opposites, or even couples, really, is an arbitrary concept that I didn't invent. You did.\"\n\n\"So where am I?\"\n\n\"You aren't.\"\n\n\"What the fuck does that mean?!\"\n\n\"You're dead, right? What happens to the consciousnesses of dead people?\"\n\n\"Nothing, supposedly!\"\n\n\"There you have it. Welcome to nothing.\"\n\n\"But this is something!\"\n\n\"So are you saying you were wrong before?\"\n\n\"I... I guess so...\"\n\n\"I'm glad you understand that now.\"\n\n\"So... I'm nowhere. What happens here?\"\n\n\"Oh, everything.\"\n\n\"I thought there would be clouds and golden halos and stuff...\"\n\n\"Heh heh. That's cute.\"\n\n\"Well what happens now?\"\n\n\"Now it's your turn.\"\n\n\"My turn to what?\"\n\n\"Here.\"\n\n\"A video game controller?\"\n\n\"Is that what you got? Huh. When it was my turn, I got chalk and a blackboard.\"\n\n\"Wait, so what do I do with this?\"\n\n\"That's a good question. What do you normally do with those?\"\n\n\"Well, I guess hit start, but I mean--\"\n\n\"Go on.\"\n\n\"What happens then?\"\n\n\"I dunno. I'm not God.\"\n\n\"But didn't you say you were?\"\n\n\"Like I said, it's your turn, now.\"", "Everyone is searching for answers, one or way another. People turn to Religion or Science, but the truth remains speculation. The only real hope to find how it all began is to start with how it all ends: What happens when we die? I sought to find this answer for myself, knowing I would not be able to share it.\n\nI decided the only way to go out of the world is the same way we all came in, with a big bang. In one moment there was everything, a hardwood floor beneath me, the sky above, family in distant states, the Dodgers game on the TV, the internet at my fingertips, moments later there was nothing. I was no longer a physical being, there was no flesh or limbs, only the faintest memory that they were once there, then that faded away as I drifted through the vastness.\n\nI no longer had a car, a home, a career, or even a name. I simply was, as I imagined I had always been. Then suddenly, just as they describe in movies a bright light appeared. I had tunnel vision for this that light. I was moving towards it or it towards me, I couldn’t tell. I felt safe though, if it could even be called a feeling now. Then suddenly with a big flash light was everywhere and then I was nowhere.\n\nBefore me there was a man sitting in a red leather arm chair with his back straight and one leg crossed over the other. He looked like a mixture of Morgan Freeman and my father. I tried to get some concept of myself but I was still nothing.\n\n“Where am I?” I asked\n\n“Where do you think?” The man responded coolly.\n\n“I am dead.”\n\n“You are.” \n\n“Who are you?” \n\n“Well I am god of course” The man responded, “Well your chosen visualization of god. Sometimes I am a woman, an animal, or a tree. Once,” god began with a smile, “I was an Oompa Loompa, like out of the Gene Wilder movie. That one was strange for me.”\n\n“Yeah I guess we’re all a little different.”\n\n“Yes, yes.” God said agreeing, “Yet, we’re also so similar aren’t we?”\n\nI looked at him perplexed, at least I felt perplexed. “So what happens now?” I asked remembering vaguely what happened in my last few moments of life.\n\n“You tell me. You came here for a reason.” He said as though he had all the time in the world. I guess he kind of did.\n“How did it all start?”\n\n“How did what all start?”\n\n“The universe, life, existence. What does it all mean? Why did it happen?” I asked trying to be specific.\n“Why does it need to mean anything? Why does there have to be a reason?”\n\n“With all this suffering, all the injustice, all of the randomness. It has to mean something? It had to be started for something.”\n\nGod began stroking his chin, it seemed even he had to choose his words. “What do you think it means? Or what is all for?” I wasn’t sure how to answer. This is why I had come here after all didn’t he know?\n\n“Let me ask a different way,” God began, “What did your life mean? What was it for?”\n\n“My life?” I asked. God simply nodded back. “I was just another person going through the motions.”\n\n“Before you ‘just went through motions’?” God asked using air quotes. Yes, air quotes.\n\n“I dunno… I guess family and friends, passion for cooking and building stuff.” He just nodded and waited for me continue.\n“Look this is all well and good, but I came here to find out the answers to life.”\n\n“And that is what I am trying to help you do.” He said very bluntly. \n\n“Didn’t you create everything? Don’t you have all the answers?”\n\n“No.”\n\n“Aren’t you god?” I asked starting to lose my temper. \n\n“In a matter of speaking.” He could tell the answer did not suffice so he continued, “I am every person who has ever lived or ever will live. I am you, your mother and your father. I am every person who has died in a genocide and I am the every person who has ever helped to commit it. I do not have any answers that you cannot find within yourself or the world around you.”\n\nIf anything I was more confused. “Well what now? There is nothing around me?”\n\n“There is everything around you.” God said in a stern voice. “It is within you.” I was still confused. \n\n“You will go back.” God said.\n \n“I will be brought back to life?”\n\n“No you will live again.”\n\n“So I can make different choices and stay alive?”\n\n“No you will live the same life, but you have the opportunity to have a different understanding. Maybe the next time we speak you will understand, maybe not.”\n\n“What if I don’t?” I asked not wanting to leave.\n\n“Then you will go back?”\n\n“Is this my some sort of punishment?”\n\n“No. This is your chance to get what you came for. The answers to life. They were there, in front of you. You lived them. And once you understand, you will not need to meet me.”\n\nThe next moment I was thrust into the world again, screaming and crying unable to open my eyes. And I knew nothing. \n\nEdit: formatting" ]	11
Medieval Fantasy = Elves, Magic, Dwaves, dragons, etc...	[WP] A medieval fantasy army from an alternative dimension have decided to invade our world, only to discover too late, that we have guns and tanks.	[ "\"I'm not saying you have to surrender,\" said the ambassador. \"It's just inconvenient, that's all I'm saying.\"\n\nThe Quar'lian stood his ground. \"You know, this has typically gone much better for us. In the past, I mean.\"\n\nThe ambassador smiled. \"I don't doubt it. That thing you did with the dragon was really impressive. I bet that sent whole armies running with their tails between their legs.\"\n\n\"Oh, don't patronize me\" said the Quar'lian. He looked rather upset about the whole thing. \"I don't suppose you have anything better to do than gawk at the Royal Armada of the Eighth House of Quar'lel?\"\n\nThe ambassador smiled and relit his cigar. \"It works like this. You give a public statement, probably side by side with the Secretary General, the President, probably the Joint Chiefs of Staff and some foreign leaders, and say that this has been a very successful first contact between your dimension and ours. Since, you're stuck here, maybe we can play this off as you folks all being refugees of your own dimension and you're looking for a new home. We can sweep this all under the rug.\"\n\nThe Quar'lian sighed. His fancy silver robes drooped from his shoulders. The ambassador counted nine...ten... no, twelve glowing hoops of pure light in the Quar'lian's elongated ear looking like something he picked up in a teen-girls piercing shop in Blade Runner. The ambassador hoped this wouldn't start a fashion trend.\n\n\"I'm sure this would have all gone differently if your magic worked in our dimension,\" started the ambassador. \"You should be proud of yourselves, really, to break on through to the other side. I'm sure there's a lot you could teach us.\"\n\n\"You're being patronizing again,\" said the Quar'lian. \"And it's not magic, you know. It's arcana, an ancient form of cosmic sorcery given to us by the Firstborne at the Crowning of the Ocean King, and preserved painstakingly by the wisest scholars of the Scholomance of Fortenfall's Archmagi.\"\n\nThe ambassador smiled. \"We can work out the details with our press office this afternoon. Your armada is probably hungry and could use some good American barbeque. I'll ask the joint chiefs where your airships can land, and we'll see about getting everybody set up with a nice meal. I'll tell you the story of Thanksgiving. You'll get a kick out of it, I promise you that.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" muled the Quar'lian, and they shook hands.", "\"no dragons to be slain, no dwarves to be reasoned with, no elves to put our weaponry skills to shame. Taking Earth should be as easy as a well placed enchantment or an impressive display of mountain giant strength for all of humankind to quake before. I'm of half a mind to only send the wizards to Earth after all. The rest of us need move in but a few moments later when humanity is subdued. We can then establish a new world around the rich resources of Earth! All races will live in harmony with each other, each in their rightful social standing, with humans at the bottom of course. They are a weak minded species with no special abilities. How this race of beings has managed to hold Earth for so long without being invaded before today is beyond me! They've got no magic for goodness sakes! I'm heading on a quick reconnaissance before notifying the war effort.\" \n\nThis was an entry in the high commander druid's military log written moments before he stepped through the recently enchanted Earth gate and emerged, or rather submerged, 3,000 feet beneath the surface of the Atlantic ocean. He was instantly crushed by the ensuing pressure and had no time to consider what a mistake he had made in not sending the wizards through first.", "Dear Diary.\n\nDamn! What else can I say? I signed up to protect not massacre. These bastards don't even understand what is going on before they are torn to shreds. The Fey. Dumbasses They decided our \"non-magical realm\" was ripe for the taking. The arrogance of centuries of technological stagnation caught up with them i guess.\n\n its my job to kill them now. I haven't been able to eat for quite a while. I think i am off meat forever.... or at least indefinitely. some got in my mouth. its all over me and it never washes off. I don't think i will feel clean again. Day one was atrocious. day two was sickening and now it is day 26 and i just don't see the sense in it. maybe they are hoping we will run out of ammunition? The smell of carnage floats from the local Door sometimes. its why i dont eat.\n\nThis doesn't feel like winning. this doesn't feel like fighting at all. It isn't but by now i am sure whoever is left over there wants to kill us all. revenge? How do they justify this.\n\nTomorrow i hive \"mop up\" again. last time it was 4 hours of walking the fields stopping the screaming. I hope it stops. havent slept.", "The war between realms has been officially decided as lasting 38 standard Earth hours. \n\nHuman casualties were 18 killed, 11 wounded, 25 missing in action.\n\nDelvin casualties, from the official UN estimate, are considered to be roughly 60,000.\n\nNot a single swordsman, archer, mage, or knight who passed through the Iron Gates survived to tell his tale. \n\nThey arrived in ranked formations, numbering exactly 97 men wide in deep columns that seemed to stretch infinitely into the desert. To the Bedouins who initially encountered them, they were exactly that: an infinite army of the past come to conquer the modern world in the name of God. Luckily for the more skeptical residents of the deserts, some brave soul or another felt fit to notify local army and NATO divisions stationed in the area. \n\nAerial surveillance was quick to substantiate this claim, and a force of 25 soldiers, accompanied by professional diplomats and negotiators, was quick to reach their position. \n\nThis advance diplomatic force, unequipped and unprepared to handle sustained fighting, was quickly attacked and routed by mages of the Kh’al-Tum clan. \n\nThey suffered 10 deaths, 9 wounded, the heaviest human casualties of the war. \n\nThe retreating forces quickly radioed in for close air support. Four light attack jets were scrambled to slow down the advancing army until aircraft could be found, fueled, and readied for action. \n\nOf course the concept of aircraft was utterly foreign to the proud and newly victorious Delvin army. Rather than seeking cover, the noble knights of the vanguard chose instead to hurl insults like flak at the approaching aircraft. Out of the 500 illustrious horsemen that formed the Ickathian Brotherhood, 14 survived the initial strafing. The main columns fared no better, with men, dwarves, and elves unwisely diving behind their shields and chain armor as a source of protection from the hot lead rain. Arch-mage Balgan, in an attempt to defeat what he and his advisors considered the human’s primary defenses, led a heroic effort to destroy the encroaching demons. \n\nThrough valiant sacrifice, he and his followers were able to damage 3 of the 4 fighters, killing two pilots and forcing another to eject. The last pilot, responding to the destruction of his comrades and his quick depleting fuel, beat a hasty retreat back to his base. Once again, victory was at hand. The forces rallied and resumed their march out of the desert, going towards, though they did not realize it, the heavily militarized Gaza Strip. \n\nMilitary strategists credit the armies of Delvin with great bravery in the face of the artillery barrage and subsequent high altitude bombardment that effected the ruin of their grand army. Satellite surveillance photos show the maintenance of proper battle lines even as the last soldiers fell. Frequently, it seemed, when the company commanders were ripped to shreds by anti-personnel mortar rounds, artillery fire, and aerial bombardment, the troops under their command resorted to their training in a way that rivaled even the Romans. They died in orderly rows, shields in front, swords and axes drawn. \n\nAs the smoke cleared, a force of light reconnaissance vehicles and armored personnel carriers moved into the impacted desert. By loudspeaker, the head negotiator demanded the surrender of the surviving forces. The troops were informed that their situation was beyond hopeless, that a thousand trained eyes were focused on their position, that the devastating barrage of the previous night could be repeated ad infinitum. \n\nThe negotiator’s words were met by a singular shout. The words, being a Dwarvish insult to the man’s mother, sister, father, and manhood, were lost on the human forces. The tone was not.\n\nThe soldiers shrugged and withdrew to a minimum safe distance. The batteries reopened fire. Bored soldiers gambled and laughed as the rockets boomed into the distance. The sky tinted orange with the color of synthetic dragonfire.", "The high council never anticipated this, the unified army was sent away to conquer what was thought of as a poor peasantry land. Nothing have returned except tales of great suffering for their kinsmen. 80,000 elves, dwarves, humans, and beastman were sent with hopes of plundering the what little wealth the other side holds.\n\nNow senator Demetrius, speaker of the elves is in a predicament, all of the forces were lost, and his efforts to secure a position for himself in the land on the other side of the portal faded. Not only did the humans want his head on a plate, but now strange silver swords have flew through the portal, and the cities around the area have been burned away by strange magic that does nothing but kill...\n\n\n3 Months later...\n\nThe foreign army now stands outside the gates of Dunsaine, the capital of the Humans. Strange iron chariots that spew fire and shatter walls have been all but undefeated by the arcane of the academy. Their soldier holds sticks that blew lightning that can kill all but the most armored soldier.\n\nThe garrison surrenders and the royal palace now fly a blue flag with a map on it, a grave insult to the efforts of Demetrius. Efforts to slow down the invasion have failed as the human cities fell, leaving an open path into the elven home lands. Demetrius speculate that various factions are trying to negotiate a peace, but that isn't his greatest concern. A rumor of a coup is flying, with the enemy at hand his attention can't be divided...", "Third Morn of February, Year of Our Lord Twenty-Hundred and Thirteen\n\nJerusalem\n\n\nThe order is given. The news of it races through the ranks, filling every man whom hears it with that tightness of breath and chest and fist which only righteous fervour can bring. The Ninth crusade is called, and every man on every continent of God’s united Earth rushes to join it. \n\nI admit, I had begun to doubt. Not in Him - for He of course is perfection and His plan also – but in the alchemists; those wizened, twisted sinners, their hearts full of low cunning and black magic. To tell truth, I doubted the wisdom behind the Realm’s tolerance of their continued existence, as I know did many. What could those decrepit old men, with their potions and parlour tricks, give us which the Lord himself would not in due time see fit to bestow upon the faithful? But the Lord works in mysterious ways; even, it seems, through the hands of heretics. \n\nFor it is undoubtedly His will which those wicked hands have wrought. Another world! Waiting, unseeable but by Him, betwixt the very fabric of reality itself; and now pierced by us. Had the message not borne the sigil of the High King, I would not have believed the words before me. But they are good and they are true. The Black Order in Geneva have opened a window to another world, and Benedict in Rome has laid out that call which all faithful men must answer.\n\nAnd answer they shall. The birds have flown to all corners of the world, and every able soldier from New England to The Horn to Van Diemen’s Land will come. There is true jubilation tonight, as if a merry madness has gripped the entire city. People drink and dance and weep openly in the streets, praising His holy name, and it is not difficult to understand why. For or so long we have waited, desolate of direction and devoid of purpose. Two score years of doubt, of disillusion, fragmentation and infighting, as the Christian peoples of the world wondered “What now?” We had spread to every corner of the globe, put to the stake every non-believer and rooted out heresy in all its forms. When the last of the Maori savages lay slain, the last pockets of resistance burned away, we had thought our mission complete; and so, perhaps greedily, we had awaited salvation. But salvation did not come – despite our triumphs, despite our faith, despite our forging of a united Christian world. How had we failed, we cried. What more did the Lord desire, what more could he ask of us? \n\nAnd now we know. \n\n-----------------------------------\n\nFifteenth Night of October, Year of Our Lord Twenty-Hundred and Thirteen \n\nConstantinople\n\n\nOur company joined that of the Tenochtitlan Brethren this morning. A savage people, only a few generations United, but their dedication to Him is unquestionable, if a little… sanguine. I had believed there little truth to the rumours of their habit of nailing heretics to the cross in honour of Our Lord’s perfect Sacrifice; but it seems I was mistaken. Regardless it was an enlightening, if unconventional, display of faith to witness, and one which the Brethren, purportedly, look to carry into the New World; as the heretics of our own Earth are, blessedly, in short supply. \n\nThe New World. The thought of it fills my every waking hour and echoes across my dreams. I can feel God’s guiding hand on my shoulder as I march towards the righteous host massing at its door. Another world, another Earth, full of heretics which He would have us purge; and purge them we shall. Captain Frederick today raised the question if they shall all be heretics, if the Lord is known of there or if they all stumble in darkness. I admit, we do not know – anything is possible. But regardless, I assured him, be there innocents among them, we will purge them all like gold in the fire. God will know His own. \n\n-----------------------------------\nSecond Night of April, Year of Our Lord Twenty-Hundred and Fourteen \n\nGeneva\n\n\n\nIt is done. The last regiments of pike from Jakarta arrived this morning, and the Order of the Antarctic this afternoon - the latter almost twice the height of a normal man, armoured in insulating plate as they were. The host is gathered, almost a billion strong, of lance and sword and horses. I am too excited to sleep. Tomorrow, we bring the Unity of the Lord to the New World.\n\n-----------------------------------\n\nFourth Night of April, Year of Our Lord Twenty-Hundred and Fourteen \n\nHell\n\n\nLord protect me. I do not know if anyone will ever find this, but please, tell the host to turn back. We did not understand this world, the magicks its peoples wield. We came to conquer, but we are undone. Lord save us. It seemed so easy. The first town was defenceless, no spears nor clubs nor even the meanest armour, though it hummed with the movement of twisted machines. The second was the same, its people running in panic at our advance, cattle to the slaughter. \n\nBut then came the third. We had barely got within a bow’s length of the first house when the air cracked as if with thunder, short sharp bursts, and suddenly my companions fell dying around me, holes appearing as if by witchcraft in their armour and their lifeblood draining from them. I do not know how it is possible; I have seen the chestplates of these men deflect swings of a broadsword, but they punctured now like wet paper against this unseen force. And this was only the beginning. \n\nFrom over the plains, rolling fortresses set upon us, like iron carriages but drawn by no horses I could perceive. From them came deafening booms, and I could only watch in horror as entire battalions simply disintegrated in blasts of dust and fire. We stormed them, losing a hundred men for every one that survived, but our charge was for nought, for our steel could not hurt them, our arrows did not pierce, and even the rocks that our engines hurled broke hopelessly upon their sides. It was madness; thousands slaughtered, maybe millions, a discord mess of voices calling in contradiction to advance, assist or retreat. But it was too late. The magick of these Other Worldmen had turned the very sky against us, and now there was nowhere we could run, nowhere we could hide. High whistles cut the air, and seemingly from nothingness explosions tore the very ground asunder. We ran. All of us, all brave men of Christ, we all turned tail and fled, our mission all but forgotten in the face of such unimaginable slaughter.\n\nI write this from a small cave in which I shelter. I can see them passing, these men, the ones who hunt me; clad not in armour but in misshapen robes of mottled green, in each of their hands the twisted artefacts that I believe tore holes in the bodies of my comrades. I pray to God to protect me from them, but I do not know if my prayers reach Him. We were wrong. We were so wrong. We came believing that He was with us. But we came from a world of God.\n\nAnd this is a world of Satan.\n" ]	6
It doesn't have to be in the modern day.	[WP] Write about a funeral that is interrupted.	[ "I had this idea while writing a post apocalyptic story, and wanted to volunteer the first page or two:\n================================\nI had to be strong. Strong for my son, and strong for my wife. But most of all, strong for the tribe, because if any of us faltered it would mean our end. It was hard though. There in front of me was my Fathers corpse, and I had to be expected to stay strong and tall in front of the stares of others, others who had known loss beyond imagining.\n\nI had never felt this sense before. Never comprehended what it must have felt like to have your whole world ripped away in an instant. My mother had died in childbirth, before we'd saved Sahmad, our doctor. So my Father had been the only proper family I'd ever known. That said, I still had my friends, they themselves the sons of my Fathers friends, his brothers in arms. So there were 13 of us here today. 3 generations, and my wife. Mourning under the barbarian sun. We were outside my uncles foundry, as it had been my father's last testament to give himself to the tribe.\n\n\"Goodbye Father,\" I nodded at my uncle, himself an old and wizened man, but muscular from working the forge.\n\n\"Goodbye Darius.\"\n\nThe coffin slid into the fire, burning brighter even than the desert surrounding the vineyard. I placed my father's old hat on my head to shield my face from the heat, but turned skyward, and allowed the sun to hasten the evaporation of my tears.\n\nMy son was only 15, the same age I'd been when my father first took me on a hunting trip. He too had been crying, but stopped when I placed my hand on his shoulder.\n\n\"The universe cares not for the grievances of men my son. Be strong with me.\"\n\nI squeezed his shoulder in an effort to comfort him, before addressing my wife, who was with child.\n\n\"I am taking him out into the wild next I leave.\"\n\nHer eyes flared open. She had loved my father almost as much as I , and was unprepared for this revelation.\n\n\"He is becoming a man. And I know the others are doing the same.\"\n\nMy cousin, and my two best friends nodded their ascent, we had been blessed with sons of the same age, and they had grown up as we had, brothers in all but blood.\n\n\"I know you aren't a pious man Alexander, but-\" She faltered, un able to choke out the words she had clearly meditated on.\n\n\"What is it?\" I asked.\n\n\"Do you not think that it is best to wait for a while before you leave... To pay respect to his memory.\"\n\nI smiled, despite my grief, and it evolved into a fit of laughter. My sadness forgotten for the moment, I corrected my wife's mistake.\n\n\"My father believed in duty above all else. He wished for his corpse to be used as fuel for Christ's sake, I cannot be expected to mope around and grieve in wake of such a great man. And besides, we need food.\"\n\nI turned, as no further explanation was needed, but heard an explosion from elsewhere in the vineyard, followed by the distinct crackling of flames. The smell that met my nostrils was that of burning grapes, our only constant source of food since bandits had attacked a few years ago.\n\nBastards.\n", "I’m not a religious man, nor was my dearly departed friend over there. Yet, we’re both in church today. I’m sitting down here on these benches, but he’s up on the stage. A woman is sitting right next to me, sobbing her heart out, and I’m beginning to think that my friend is the one with the lucky break. He’s up there, just lying down. He can’t hear anything; he doesn’t have to deal with all these grieving, annoying people. I do feel bad he’s dead, but this funeral is seriously wrong. His mother insisted on an open casket in a church with a full christen funeral. She was always so concerned with being upright in the eyes of her lord and savior, but my buddy over there could have cared less.\n\nThe preacher is up, delivering a sermon or whatever you would call it, and I’m just trying to not fall asleep. Unfortunately for me, every few seconds the woman next to me lets out the biggest sob, constantly startling me back awake. This sermon couldn’t get more boring, and it really has nothing to do with my friend. It’s some idealized version of him his mother wanted everyone to hear. If my friend had any say, we’d all be partying right now and getting drunk, maybe blowing something up as a way to send him off.\n\nMy tolerance for this funeral is just about to burst, but then something marvelous happens. The preacher stops dead in his speech, his mouth still forming the last few words but no sound coming out. My friend has just walked through the door, although looking quite somber looking. The man seems to realize everyone is staring at him, and after a couple seconds he seems to realize why. \n\n“Sorry everyone,” he says. “I didn’t mean to cause a startle.” \n\nHe spoke with a British accent, very much unlike the Boston accent my friend spoke with.\n\n“I’m not Jeff. I’m Bob, his brother.”\n\nAlternating waves of shock and silence came out of those in attendance. Jeff was an only child. This was the first anyone had ever heard about a brother, let alone one that looked exactly like him.\n\nBob sat down and took a seat. Jeff’s mom had a petrified look on her face. No longer was she the perfect model of grief, but instead a sweating insecure old lady. The preacher was just about to continue when Jeff’s mom almost looked as if she’d have a heart attack. A little scream escaped her lips as yet another person walked through the double doors in the back. This time the crowd was less shocked, but a general wave of silence still watched over them.\n\nThe new Jeff look-alike realized rather quickly why people were having the same reaction, and Bob shot him a sympathizing look.\n\n“Sup, guys. I’m Yao, Jeff’s brother.”\n\nNow whispers and gossip fill the air as Yao took his seat. I started to get the feeling something was off. And surely enough, right before the first word could leave the preacher’s mouth, yet another Jeff look-alike walked in. This time the room was abuzz with noise, everyone trying to figure out what was going on.\n\n“Hi everyone,” he said nervously. He tucked his left hand behind his back and scratched the back of his head with his right. “So… I’m not Jeff.” He looked around at all the faces, clearly surprised at this inexplicable reaction from the audience. They were all staring at him, eating him up as if he was the newest celebrity. It was clear when his eyes fell upon Bob and Yao, because he kicked his shoe into the ground and cussed a little under his breath.\n\n“Uh, well,” he stumbled. “I’m Alejandro.” He blurted that last bit out really fast, and then sat down even faster.\n\nThe preacher was considering on continuing the sermon, but he seemed to look up from his written speech towards the back doors, wondering if yet another person would come through them. Jeff’s mom seemed to be on the verge of tears, but not ones of grief. Her eyes darted back and forth, from one brother to the next, and then they seemed to settle on a fire exit near her. Since Alejandro had come in, the crowd refused to be silent. It was mostly whispers now, as they were waiting for the preacher to continue, but all the tears in people’s eyes were clearly gone. It was almost as if people had forgotten it was a funeral, and in all honesty, I was about to start laughing from the absolute insanity of it all.\n\nThe preacher went to continue, but Jeff’s mom decided to make a speech first. Honestly, I should have seen it coming. This was way to insane. Jeff had mentioned a few weeks ago that he found out something that was mind blowing and life changing. Apparently he had found these identical brothers, and it looked as if he’d contacted each one, but never let them know about the others.\n\nWell, if the funeral had nearly killed me earlier, it was all worth it. Just as Jeff’s mom got to saying something about how devout he was as a Christian, he sprung up out of his coffin. This got the most frightened yell from his mother, who tripped off the stage. The crowd was a gasp and I started laughing. Jeff walked up to the pulpit.\n\n“Hi everyone. Thanks for coming to my funeral. Those of you who knew me well would know that I’d want my funeral to be some kind of party, so I thought I’d give an example of what I’d like to happen. Now, I recently discovered that I had three identical brothers, all of whom were adopted out at birth. I apparently was the only one that was kept, and I’m here today with them, wanting to know exactly what was going through my mother’s mind when she made such a decision.”\n\nWell, Jeff was obviously pissed at his mom, and I don’t think he could have enjoyed his revenge anymore than he already was. The biggest smile was on his face as all of his mother’s friends got to see what a fraud she was. She was not as devout as she would have them believe. I decided that it would probably be best to leave, as this was probably going to turn into a nasty fight, so I stood up and walked out of the double doors into the marvelous sunlight. In retrospect, I really should have known something wasn’t right. Death from a heart attack while sitting on a toilet was much to comedical; if it had been anyone else, perhaps it would have been true, but in Jeff’s case, it was just the scenario he would have cooked up.\n\n-121" ]	2
	[WP] The Good Guy wins the day but doesn't get the girl. Why?	[ "Richard's breathing returns to normal as he coughs, spits up a small amount of blood, opens his eyes, and rolls over. Triumphantly standing over him with clenched fist, I ask if he's had enough. Rubbing his jaw where my punch had made contact, he glares daggers at me. I give him a look that says try it again, motherfucker. He breaks his gaze and turns away. My face is flush with blood and pride. When I moved here, Richard was the first and most vocal to ostracize me. It started with him tying my shoelaces to my chair and eventually moved to towel whipping me in the locker room. \n\nAfter middle school it got worse. He would constantly pick on me for being smaller in stature and enjoying science. After he stole my backpack in the parking lot, I had had enough and stood up for myself. That was a bad decision. I told my parents I got jumped on the way home. Mom cried and cried and hugged me and called me her baby. Dad handed me a frozen bag of peas and made a few calls. Two weeks later I was in a gym with Antonio, a retired local legend, learning to box and lift weights. By junior year I was a completely different person. Even though I was getting a 4.0 while being enrolled primarily in AP classes, the only thing people could talk about was my new physic. \n\nTara was a band geek and an honor roll student. On paper, she should have been bullied just as much as me. In reality, she had the looks to avoid social murder. Actually, she was one of the more popular girls at school. Kids who usually couldn't be bothered to attend a concert went simply to see her all dressed up and go out afterwards. Always the center of attention and the life of the party, we hardly ever interacted save on AP English when I loaned her my pencil. At least, until I changed. Suddenly, she always sat next to me and invited me to lunch with her friends. The buzz around school was that we were an item. I didn't really care. Tara was amazing to talk to and look at; I was amazed she even gave me the time of day. For a few glorious weeks, my life was perfect. \n\nBut, nothing gold can stay. With my rise to popularity, Richard felt his standing dissipate. While he could no longer openly taunt or bully me, it didn't stop him from hating everything about me. Then one day, he could no longer contain himself.\n\n\"Yeah, if I were married to a loser like Jack's dad, I'd probably bang the mayor too!\" My parents' affair had recently become public knowledge and Richard decided now was the best time to cash in. At home, thing were tense. Dad stayed in a hotel and mom sobbed pretty much all the time. The whole thing had been an ordeal. Mom swore nothing happened, but the evidence suggested otherwise and dad needed time to figure things out. In the middle of it all was me, trying to figure it all out. \n\n\"Say that to my face.\" I said calmly, turning around to face him. \n\n\"I said: Your. Mom. Is. A. Whore.\" A smug grin spread over his face. My blood boils.\n\n\"Maybe. But at least she doesn't have a pig faced, snot nosed, shit for brains imbecile for a son.\" \n\nThat sets him off. I see him begin to throw a haymaker my way. I dodge it easily and catch him with a right cross. It's not my full power because I'd rather not break my hand on his face, but it still makes contact. His body goes rigid and he falls flat on his back. The fight is over before it begins. He glares at me. I glare back. A hand grabs my arm and spins me around. It's Tara. She is furious.\n\n\"Is this how you solve your problems? With violence?\" Her face is a mixture of contempt and disappointment. For the first time since Richard opened his mouth, I feel embarrassed.\n\n\"No...\" I start.\n\n\"Well, obviously it is.\" She is relentless now. Righteous anger with my indiscretion seeps out of her pores.\n\n\"Please, let me explain...\" She backs away from me.\n\n\"Explain it to a counselor. I'm out.\" She storms off to her calculus class. Behind me, I can feel Richard's sneer. He's beginning to get to his feet.\n\n\"One word. Just one fucking word and you'll be eating your meals through straws, you hear me?\"\n\n\"Chump.\"\n\nFor the first time, Richard and I agree on something.", "I swung the door open, and with the large thud of the door came an overwhelming sense of relief. I found her.\n\n\"Oh thank G-d you're here,\" she said. \"You're my savior!\" \n\n\"You're safe now,\" I replied. I tried to sound as comforting and warm as possible. She just went through hell, the first thing she should see coming out of her hellhole is a warm face, instead of the serious, desensitized faces of homicide, who've seen this too many times to put up a kind face.\n\n\"I...I don't know how to thank you enough\" she said. She sounded helpless, and I almost felt guilty for it. But it wasn't that surprising. Victims usually come out of their experiences carrying heavy emotions, despite the absence of a reason.\n\n\"You don't have to do anything, sweety,\" I told her. I was trying now, going a little out of my comfort zone by touching her face. \"Just go home and rest. Time will heal this, I promise.\"\n\nI've had to go through enough myself to know the healing effects of time. It took me two years to get over my father's hatred of me, but eventually it faded. After two years of debilitating depression and loneliness. I couldn't leave her alone now...\"Let me take you home. Please.\" She agreed immediately.\n\nAfter an understandably silent car ride I arrived at her house. A nice suburban home that she apparently owned herself. I thought it odd but gave no further thought to it. I walked her to her door.\n\n\"Now you rest for a while, okay? You don't need to go to work or anything. I'd probably also recommend a therapist,\" I said. She looked at me in the eyes for a while. Almost a little too long. Again, I made no thought of it and walked away. \n\nBut before I could fully turn around she spun me by the arm and planted a big kiss right on my lips.\n\n\"What the hell are you doing?!\" I yelled. I didn't mean to, but come on it was instinctual. She immediately went into panic mode.\n\n\"I...I don't know! You were so nice to me, and you cared about me, and you even offered to drive me home! I thought you wanted this!\" she exclaimed.\n\n\"Wait, what?! No, I'm gay!\"", "\"Hang on baby! Its gonna be a Bumpy ride!\" \n\nEric Steel pressed down hard on the accelarator. The monster truck burst through the walls of the warehouse where the nuclear weapons were being sold off. Dozens of terrorists were crushed to death, as well as shot to bits by the M16 Steel was firing out the window of his truck. \n\nFinally, the room was empty, except for two other people. Stacey Ironthighs, supermodel turned FBI informant, was being held hostage by terrorist leader, Don Blackwell. \n\n\"Its over blackwell!\" Yelled Steel, reving the engines of his monster truck. \n\n\"No Mr.Steel! Leave down your gun and step out of truck! Or the girl dies!\"\n\nStacy whimpered as Eric placed his gun on the seat and slowly stepped out of the monster truck. Don Blackwell pointed the gun at him.\n\n\"The difference between us Mr.Steel.\" He sneered, \"Is I know how this world works. Necessary Evil is inevitable, and I am merely making my mark on the planet. But you never got the point of that did you?\"\n\n\"No blackwell.\" Steel retorted, \"But I do have a point for you!\"\n\nSteel wiped a knife out from his sleeve and tossed it through the air, sticking directly into blackwells forehead. He gasped, wide eyed before collapsing backwards to the ground. \n\nEric turned to Stacey \"Now how about you and I get to the point, eh baby?\" He wise cracked, smoothly.\n\n\"Uh...you O.K?\"\n\nStacey was rocking back and forth on the ground, covered in blood, crying uncontrollable. Eric feebly attempted to console her before she screamed, knocking his hands away, then rolling in the fetul position sobbing and laughing manically.\n\nWhen the police arrived, Stacey was taken to hosptial before being transferred to a home for the mentally ill, being treated with manic depression and post truamatic stress disorder.\n\nShe was there for the rest of her life... ", "The dragon slithered around the lake of molten gold admiring the shine of the sun and the occasional splash as bubbles rose to the surface. \n\nHidden behind the rock, I prepared myself for the fight. The heat and the fear forced me to give up the heavy metal platemail as the sweat dripped from my skin in torrents. I inspected my blade checking it's edge. The hilt was silver, a gift from my father who swore to protect his family with it. I will continue his oath and protect my family.\n\nThe dragon has its gold, I'll keep my silver.\n\nI crouched, waiting for my chance. The beast was huge, its tail seemed to sense the slightest change in the wind. Slowly, I crept from hiding trying to stay behind the monster. I tiptoed in between the bones of those who fell before. They fought for the dragons gold, I fight for my family. \n\n\"SNAP\"\n\nThe dragon turned faster than I could have expected possible. My hand shot up punching the leathery face while my blade was on the ground lying useless in the dirt. The dragon snapped at my arm clearly unperturbed by my first blow. I ducked and rolled under the dragon's underbelly and stuck my dagger into its gut.\nThe sound was terrible. A screeching lizard lunged towards me tying itself into a knot. The jaws wrapped around my dagger snapping the handle, the blade remained under the scales. \n\nI used this time to dart to my silver on the ground ready for the dragon's advance. In an instant it was over. My blade stuck into the dragon's neck as it collapsed into its golden pool.\n\nI lost my father's blade but we won't need it anymore. My blood ran from my body but I felt content. My family is safe now. My sons can grow stronger and they can look after their sisters and wives. Just like how my husband looked after me before the dragon came.\n\n", "Echol led his people through the spiral tower, from floor to floor, cutting down The Monarchy’s soldiers, the echoes of freedom finally ringing through the oppression that had held his people so long. As they ascended from floor to floor, the darkened, slit windows revealed the city below, in shambles as it devoured itself. The dark suited soldiers were being trampled under the weight of the citizenry and all of their riot suppression tools were being commandeered and used against them. Fires blazed against the rickety skeletons of once proud government buildings as they burned holes into the concrete below.\n\nAll his rage, all of his impetus behind fighting had started with that one moment fifteen years ago when they took Genira. With one fluid movement, his wife had disappeared from his grasp and into a transport truck bound for the labor camps. The door had closed on her, and had closed on their life together. Echol could only fathom revenge.\n\nNow, he had taken his revenge and turned it into justice for his people. He had delivered them victory over their alien oppressors, had brought them to the gates of the Monarchy’s holds and torn them down. All Echol had to do now was confront the faceless one- The masked ruler. The holder of all economic and political power- the singular dictator that clutched Echol’s world and choked out its joy stood watching his rebellion at the top of this citadel. Soon Echol would feel the ruler collapse under his grasp. Pushing through the mechanized guards in the last chamber and smashing their machine bodies against the walls and the ground, Echol triumphantly strolled through the doors of the ruler’s perch. Standing in front of the long tinted triangular window, watching missiles darting up from the planet surface to knock down incoming troop transports, the long black cape of the faceless one flowed. The looming figure turned, the face still crowded by shadows as Echol lifted his gun.\n\n“I have waited a very long time for this day,” he told the faceless one. “You took away all that I had, destroyed everything I loved and sacrificed it all to a power I loathe. You have stripped my people of their dignity, their families and their love. All that lives in us now is hatred and vengeance. Today, with your death, that will all be over.\n\n“But will it ever really end, Echol,” said a woman’s voice- one Echol recognized. As the faceless one stepped out of the shadows, Echol saw the face that he had always longed to see again.\n\nThere stood Genira, her black hair straight and sleek, flowing into the long black capes that hid her slender body. She stood atop the circular pedestal that presented the faceless one during addresses to the public and looked down on her former husband as the pistol wavered in his hand. “Will the violence…the bloodshed, will it ever stop? Do your people…do our people even understand how?” she asked him. He felt his hand quaking as he watched her, tears streaming from his eyes.\n\n“What are you waiting for?!” yelled one of his comrades. “Kill her!” But Echol couldn’t. He felt the pistol drop from his hands as his comrades rushed forward, pummelling her with ionized bolts, her body sizzling and crackling as she shrieked and cried out. That was the last he heard of his lover, and the last of The Monarchy. As he collapsed onto his knees and sobbed among the rushing forward, victorious crowd of rebels, cheers and joy surrounded him.\n\nHis people were free.\n", "\"Wait, you won what?\"\n\n\"A sex robot, Jenny. I won a goddamn sex robot,\" said Jerry.\n\nShe smiled mischievously. \"How did that happen?\"\n\n\"I entered a contest at the home-robotics website and a month later they called me. Turns out I actually entered a contest at homo-robotics. I was hoping to get a gutter cleaner. Instead I got a robot that looks like a 16 year old girl. Classy, eh?\"\n\nShe laughed. \"So where is it?\"\n\n\"No where. I told them to keep it. They wouldn't trade anything and they're looking into giving me the cash equivalent. After taxes its not a lot of money. Not even enough for a proper gutter cleaning robot.\"\n\n\"Why don't you sell her?\"\n\n\"You honestly want me to have them ship a barely legal sexbot to my home and then put it up on craigslist. Do you have any idea the kinds of people who would be coming over to see it. I can't imagine haggling with them.\"\n\nJenny smiled, \"You could say, 'Look at this realistic plastic vagina' its brand new! She's a virgin! I won't take under $10,000. Look at all the little outfits she comes with.\"\n\nJerry raised an eyebrow, \"Oh I never thought about that. They must come with all sorts of pervy outfits. Cheerleader, secretary, etc.\"\n\n\"Well, I'm proud of you. A lot of guys would have just kept it and hid in their closet as their secret shame.\" She looked down at her watch, \"Well I gotta run.\"\n\nJerry hugged her goodbye and showed her the door. A moment later he was on the phone, \"So.. can you ship her in discreet packaging? Does she come with a cheerleader outfit? Pom-poms as well? No?\"\n\nJerry paused for a moment, said, \"Fine, just keep her and send me the goddamn cash,\" and angrily hung up the phone.", "I opened the door after slaying the mighty ogre. My body covered in sweat and blood, slightly sizzling cause of the natural toxin of an ogre. There I shined my sword against the light of the dusty window.\n\nThere she was, in her blue elegant dress. Princess Maya, daughter of King Archania. Her golden hair danced as she looked back and saw my once shining armor, fall down in to dusty nothing. Her smile was accompanied by small drops of water coming out of her starry eyes. She rushed and tried to hug me, but I must refuse, I wouldn't want any dirt on her beautiful dress.\n\nShe laughed and hugged me anyways. Her intoxicating perfume that was dashed across her neck entered my nostrils and gave me a relaxing comfort. My lips touched her neck, slowly, I worked my way to her cheeks. Her natural beauty had no dashes of make-up. The castle's dark brick walls only complimented her gorgeous face. \n\nSlowly, a reward of a kiss from this maiden will suffice and would be greater that a hundred bags of gold combined. I felt like I was floating, million angels sang across the room as my lips were about to touch hers. But then she smiled and pulled back.\n\n\"You're such a great friend\"\n\nFUCK!", "I've been looking for this girl for five years now.\n\n Name: Jamie Goff\n Gender: Female\n DOB: August 25th, 1985\n Age: 24\n\nAnd I finally found her.\n\n Eye Color: Brown\n Hair Color: Dark Brown\n Ethnicity: African American\n\nI'd like to say it was right under my nose.\n\n Height: 5'10\"\n Weight: 130 lbs.\n\nI'd like to say I'm happy.\n\n Last Seen: June 5th, 2009\n\nI guess I'm happy I kept searching. I guess I'm happy I finally have closure. I guess I'm happy about her family getting her body back.\n\nI'm not happy. But I didn't take this job expecting happiness." ]	8
	[WP] Captain America shows up at your front door with two things: Nick Fury's personal cell phone and a distinct lack of his shield. What happens next?	[ "He stood in front of me, the real deal. Captain America, they called him. I didn't know much about him, but I did know about the Avengers. They had been on the news recently. After a while, people started to notice that crime was disappearing. It wasn't that the Avengers were doing anything different or going off the deep end like you see in the comics; no, criminals just didn't seem to want to take the chance that the Avengers would show up. It looked like Nick Fury's Avengers were what this world really needed... until the criminals disappeared entirely, leaving just the Avengers as a way of showing that they had ever been there in the first place. Now the way Fury figured it, the Avengers have done their job, but if they were to just up and leave, the criminals would just come surging back. So they hang around, minding their own business more or less. And boy is \"minding their own business\" the right phrase, because those bills had to be paid somehow, and of course that led to....\n\n\"That will be 12.99, sir.\"\n\nI hand him a 20. In place of his shield, he wears a pouch filled with change. He starts to count out bills when I say, \"Keep the change, mate, you've earned it.\"\n\nHe smiles and says, \"Gee thanks. Here's that pizza you ordered, straight from Stark's new fusion oven. You won't find a pizza like it anywhere else in the galaxy. I'm speaking from experience here!\" \n\n\"I'll keep that in mind, and I'll be sure to order Avenger's Pizza next time I'm hosting a party!\"\n\nHe smiles and nods to me and waves as he walks away. He pulls out his cell phone as he moves toward his moped.\n\n\"Hey, Fury, when will we be done selling pizza? This is stupid as heck.\"\n\n\"We'll be done when I say we're done! You want to be part of this elite group, you gotta earn your share! Airships don't pay their own interest you know!\"\n\n\"But Fury, we've been selling pizza for days, and we still don't have enough money to buy a new cellphone! I'm stuck with this cheap thing you just found in your pocket! I'm telling you, we send Black Widow to deliver pizza and we'll be raking it in!\"\n\n\"Yeah but it's not like I can confiscate her guns and tell her she's only getting them back if she sells the thin crusts. You on the other hand....\"\n\n\"Fury, can I please have my shield back?\"\n\n\"No! Now get your behind downtown! We got pizzas to deliver!\"", "It was midnight. I was wasting my life on television like a patriotic average American should be. Thinking of how great it'd be if there was some kind of hero to save me from the mundane day to day life we're all slaves too. I guess someone was listening that night. I'm not even sure what was on TV, some kinda flashy light show with sitcoms full of fake laughter. \n\nIt's funny, you'd expect such a big guy to knock a little louder. I barely heard it over the sound of bad punch lines. I opened to the door and who's there but the big boy in red white and blue. The man himself, Captain America. But something's off, I couldn't put my finger on it at first. I guess I was just a little awestruck that he was at my door at midnight. I wanted to say something but I couldn't articulate anything past \"ugphhhh\" so I figured I'd best keep my mouth shut. \n\nWe stared at each other for a few seconds. Thankfully the silence was broken by a violent buzzing in his hand. I looked down and all of sudden It hit me. The only thing that was off. He traded in his shield for a phone. Not exactly an upgrade in my eyes. But who am I to question the hero of WW2 and the civil war of super Hero's? \n\nWhat happened next was pretty surreal, even for me. He looked right at me. \n\"I believe this calls for you, Colonel Furry\" \nHe said as he handed me the phone. I bit perplexed, I didn't want to disagree with a steroid fueled immortal solider whose saved the world more times than I've blinked. I carefully took the phone from his hand wanting to prolong the moment of contact between me and a real life superhero. Just something to brag about I suppose. \nI guess it was kinda pointless after I answered the phone. \n\"Colonel Furry, it's Phil. Times up. We need you back at S.H.I.E.L.D. prepare to be reactivated.\" ", "So I'm sat watching TV, nothing exciting was on but I had to be up at fucking o'clock in the morn and you know i like falling asleep in front of the usual 9pm crap. I think it was big bang theory or something, anyway, I my eyes were just closing when...\n\n*BAM\n\nSome freak in a skintight blue costume comes barging through the door, rolls over my table (smashing it by the way) and turns to look at the door. I'm like wtf* because he's standing there with a mobile in one hand and the other outstretched against the window above my head, when suddenly...\n\nSMASH\n\nI'm like... Da' fuk... out of nowhere this freak's got his hands on some sort of fancy pants shield. It's then i realise he's that damn corpral, no, commander, no, captain, that's it, captain America or whatsnot. That freak who got the steroids when fighting the commies and whatnot. \n\nAnd before ya know it, he's just done a god damn backflip out my window.best part is, some chick in black leather came chasing after him. Didn't stay long, but maaaan you should have seen the knockers on her! " ]	3
	[WP] Write the script for Passion of the Christ 2: Electric Boogaloo	[ "WARNING: Lots of swearing and highly sacrilegious. You have been warned.\n\nPeter: I can't believe it, he's really dead.\n\nPaul: Yeah, it's... surreal.\n\nJohn: And to think, it was all Judas. We were like best friends.\n\nSimon Peter: And now everyone's looking for us and trying to kill us. They could be outside the door right no-\n\nknock knock knock\n\nThomas: Jesus Christ!!\n\nThe door gets kick down, in walks Jesus, clothed from head to toe in Hollister and wearing some Oakley shades.\n\nJesus: You called?\n\nJesus puts the bag on the table. General confusion among the disciples\n\nPaul: My Lord? Is that really you?\n\nJesus: Of course it is you little bitch! Am I right?\n\nThomas: I won't believe you until I stick my hands in your wounds.\n\nJesus: Wow! Look at this queer! nudges Paul You're into some kinky shit Thomas. Here you go! Jesus shoves his middle finger through the wound in his hand and gives Thomas the bird.\n\nPeter: So, what happened?\n\nJesus: Don't give me that you little fuck! You denied me three times!\n\nPeter: My Lord, I, uh I'm... I... uh...\n\nJesus: Damn it man calm down! It was a joke you retard.\n\nEnter Mary Magdalene\n\nMary: Have you heard! Jesus is risen!\n\nJesus: I'm already here, whore!\n\nMary: Mmm, sorry stud...\n\nMary comes up behind Jesus and hugs him, she starts rubbing his ripply, muscular chest with her lithe, feminine hands\n\nSimon Peter: Mary! What are you doing! How dare you be so indecent!\n\nJesus: Shut up faggot.\n\nJohn: So how are you alive?\n\nJesus: Jesus it's never good enough for you pussies to just do shit, I've gotta explain it to! Long story short I owed a lot of people a lot of money that I borrowed. I've got enough to retire comfortably for one thousand years in a secret location on the coast to pick up later and I didn't plan on giving it all back so I paid of the Pharisees and Pontius Pilate to fake my death. Then I hid out for a couple of hours and gave Mary the best sex of her life!\n\nAndrew: So Judas is still alive!\n\nJesus: Ohhh, no he didn't know. He's really dead. He betrayed me with a kiss though. What a queer.\n\nAndrew: You asshole! You were gone for three days!\n\nAndrew charges at Jesus, fist raised in attack. Jesus doesn't flinch as he grabs Andrew's head and slams it into the table.\n\nJesus: Never liked him anyway.\n\nJohn: My Lord...\n\nJesus: And stop with all this, \"My lord\" shit! It's getting annoying.\n\nJohn: Would you rather I call you the Messiah?\n\nJesus: No! Call me, Blade.\n\nPeter: So why have you appeared to us now my Lor- ...Blade.\n\nJesus: Thank you. I'm takin' this bitch and 11 other whores with me to Fiji to relax in style! I'm here to extend you an invita- OOF!\n\nAndrew stands over Jesus' crumpled body clutching a wooden plank.\n\nAndrew: No one hears of this. EVER. He scans the room. Jesus died on that cross. That's the end of the story.\n\nMary: Well, you see, I kinda already told some people.\n\nAndrew: Great! Just great. Alright. He was resurrected and came to visit us before going on his way to heaven. That's the official story. John and Peter grab shovels and go out back to dig a hole. Simon and Paul get over here and wrap up Jesus in the table cloth so we can bury him when they finish. Mary, if you ever tell anyone what you saw in this room today, I will kill you. Understood?\n\nMary sheepishly nods\n\nAndrew: Good. Thomas, we've got some books to write.\n\nRole credits and sneak peek for Passion of the Christ 3: The Quickening\n\nEDIT: Had Peter doing two things at once. Edited for continuity's sake." ]	1
	[WP] Your phone has been stolen. Using it's GPS tracking features, you and a buddy trace it into the forest. After a while you find yourself standing in front of a shimmering wall of light, and the tracker says it's on the other side.	[ "\"...Here.\"\n\n\"Hilarious. Turn off the flashlight.\"\n\n\"Dude, I swear.\"\n\n\"...[well, shit](http://img1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20140315164222/walkingdead/images/b/b0/Jontron.gif). This isn't a joke.\"\n\nThe two friends stood aghast at the sight before them. A glimmering rampart of a celestial type with golden showers seeming to flow through its bricks.\n--\nFor the past four hours, the two had been futilely attempting to search for a lost phone. During a meeting with yet another \"girl of his dreams\" in the cafe, one of the friends, Jeremy, unwittingly left his phone. When he retrograded into the coffee shop, he found the girl--and his phone--gone. He inquired the barista if she had seen her walk out, but she replied with a hopeless \"no.\"\n\nJeremy quickly ran to his friend's apartment, a few blocks away, and furiously pounded at the door.\n\n\"Hey! Dev! Open up!\" The rampage upon the wood continued until a groggy face replaced it.\n\n\"Jeremy, it's one in the afternoon and I'm just really sick, what do you want?\" The friend looked a disgusting pale with eyes full of red veins.\n\n\"H-hi, uh, I lost my phone.\" Jeremy expectantly waited for a solution from his friend.\n\n\"And?\"\n\n\"Dev, it's got the FindMyPhone shit, you know exactly what I mean, just give me yours and I'll be out.\"\n\nHis friend suddenly became revivified. \"Absolutely not! Last... oh, last time you did this bull I got a picture of... I can't even say it. There was some incriminating nonsense on my phone, alright? I'm going with your stupid ass to make sure you don't do it again.\"\n\nJeremy threw a fist in the air and released it. \"High five!\"\n\n\"I hate you\" was Dev's response.\n\nDev threw a shirt on and walked out the door with a phone with a blatantly broken surface. Jeremy scurried after him, disappointed that his friend was not as excited.\n\nThe two walked down the street as the GPS location of Jeremy's phone appeared. \"Alright... it's moving down... into the park. Great. Even more allergies are there.\"\n\n\"Y'know,\" Jeremy rebutted, \"I did tell you that you could stay home-\"\n\n\"And the last time you said that I had a picture of some stupid bull set as my wallpaper. Get in the car.\"\n\nThe car sputtered to life as they drove down to the park. Jeremy explained his quandary as a unusual predicament. Dev knew what this circumlocution truly meant and quickly analyzed that a girl he had become terribly infatuated with took his phone. Most of the times, it was by accident, as the girl always kindly tried to find Jeremy. However, Dev feared that this one was trying to run away and keep it.\n\nThe verdant liveliness of the park came into view and the two scurried forth. Dev kept Jeremy updated as they wandered seemingly in a random pattern. The location quickly changed in rapid moments; Dev even feared that his phone had finally taken its final toll and had broken.\n\nJeremy's phone finally came to a stop into the collection of trees at the south edge of the park. Jeremy ran forward as Dev trudged along, hacking, coughing, and sneezing along the way.\n\nDev finally reached a dormant, unmoving Jeremy just a few meters away from his cellular device. \"Alright, let's go... here.\"\nBoth now looked at the wondrous sight with a large uncertain feeling brewing inside their stomachs.\n\nDev was the first to break the silence. \"Do we go through it?\"\n\n\"Can we? It... looks like a wall.\"\n\n\"Sure, Jeremy, but I'm getting real tired of standing here. Get your phone.\"\n\nJeremy looked skeptically at his friend. \"If you're so tired of standing here, run over there and get it for me!\"\n\n\"This is some Twilight Zone bull right here, Jeremy, and I am not going through it!\"\n\n\"Neither am I going through this... Twilight... what was it, Twilight Era bullshit?\"\n\nDev reluctantly sighed and opted to go get it. He walked forward and went through the beams of light. It wrapped around him like a mist, and only when his body was completely through did they suddenly appear to cement back together. There was an even audible \"boom\" as they connected again.\n\nAn anxious laugh was emitted from Jeremy's friend's throat as he grabbed the phone, lying down on the greenery.\n\n\"Hey! Jeremy, come-\"\n\nSilence. Jeremy awaited for Dev to finish his sentence before searching through the light to find him. \"Dev? Where... Dev?\"\n\nJeremy slowly procceded to awkwardly stumble towards the wall. He walked through. A boom. He spoke out. \"Dev? Where-\"\n\nSilence.\n\nTwo phones were left at the opposite side of the wall, lonely, waiting for their owners to place them in a pocket." ]	1
	[WP] He'd always believed that guns were a coward's weapon	[ "He'd always believed that guns were a coward's weapon and all dogs were Great Danes. He missed Bruce. Best damn dog he ever had. \n\n\"Henry, just lower the detonator and let the girl go.\" He had his 9mm trained on the terrorist's head, just inches from the woman's face, for the last three minutes. He hated the thing. Why couldn't he live in a time where folks didn't look at you cockeyed if you showed up to work with a quiver instead of a holster? Knives were too easily dodged and he certainly couldn't run faster than a thumb could fall.\n\nHe knew that only one life was in danger. He had the fastest reflexes of anyone in the City. Good eye sight, too. 20/5, or so they say. Brass hadn't told him what was on the other end of that detonator but he knew it wouldn't matter. It would hit the floor one way or another. How it got there was up to this Henry fellow. \n\nEverything played out just as he had predicted. Calm replaced the panic. The thumb came down on the switch and the bullet was in the air, but bullets travel faster than thumbs. He wasn't sure about arrows; he figured it depended on the thumb.\n\nHe'd always believed that guns were a coward's weapon. But you take what you get and you name your fluffy poodle Bruce.", "The battle lines crashed.\n\nThe lucky ones in the front rank were instantly cut down, decapitated as the samurai ran them through. Spears impaled and eviserated torsos, whiles the heads of peasants were lopped off, spraying blood into the air. Those that tried to fight were or stayed to reload their rifles died where they stood. The entire levy line staggered back in the face of the column, like a thin reed bending in the middle.\n\nSaigo charged in with his horsemen, and the Kumamoto lord, seeing that this was the turning point of the battle, poured his remaining sword and spear kachi in, despite being flanked by the Satsuma line infantry, who redeployed to provide enfilading fire support for Saigo's men, dropping dozens more as they shifted. The reserves met Saigo's men head on, and soon five thousand men were now stuck in a melee on the bloodied plains.\n\nLord Shimazu, seeing the enemy pulling back to shift his levy regiments, ordered his line regiments to advance, pouring concentrated fire into the flanks of the Kumamoto men as they redeployed.\n\nThe enemy was wavering.\n\nSaigo meanwhile, was lost in the moment, all tension leading up to the charge was gone, now it was simply a matter of fighting, killing the men in the mass of warriors as every man fought for himself. His horse had been shot down from under him, and his elite guard quickly surrounded him in the melee, protecting their master to the death. The sickening impact of steel on flesh and the screams and battlecries that followed filled the air. One levy tried to run him through with a bayonet, but he parried it, slicing the man`s arm off and delivering another swift blow at the neck. A gunshot echoed near his ear, slapping into his arm and causing him to stagger back, he felt nothing, even as he saw his guard impale the man with a Naginata.\n\nAnother Kumamoto levy aimed a rifle at him, and for Saigo, the world suddenly devolved into just himself and this peasant, who had him dead to rights.\n\nBefore he could move, another blast erupted from the side, and the peasant`s skull was blown apart, a gaping bloody hole at where his ear used to be. The man simply dropped the musket and died. To his right, Saigo saw it was one of the Satsuma line infantry. He simply gave the man a nod before resuming the attack with his body guard.\n\nSuddenly, as if out of no where, he spotted him. Another man dressed in the ceremonial battle armor of a general, the Kumamoto Daimyo, who was trying to encourage his own men to fight on. Saigo shouted for his own men, and a ragtag group of Satsuma levies, line infantry, samurai and his retainers came together, charging the enemy Daimyo. The enemy's retainers saw the threat and threw themselves at Saigo`s men to protect their liege lord. The riflemen that came with Saigo responded first, and those that were loaded fired into the retainers. Bullets slapped through their chestplate armor, and a dozen dropped, but the strong willed ones kept advancing.\n\nWhat a sad fate. \n\nTo have brave men die in such a way.....Bullets have no faces.\n\nThe retainers clashed with the Satsuma men, as both sides furiously hacked and parried each other. One of the Satsuma riflemen attempted to bayonet the enemy Daimyo, but the man was too nimble, too quick, sidestepping out of the way of the soldier and slicing through his neck at the same time, blood gushing from the soldier`s neck like a fountain as he fell.\n\nSaigo himself, had impaled one of the Kumamoto retainers with a spear, now found himself face to face with the Kumamoto lord. Time slowing for a moment as he ignored the burning pain in his arm, all focused on this man who had started the bloodshed on Kyushu. Gunshots, steel blades parrying, screams, all sounds suddenly seemed distant as he closed in on his enemy. Saigo dropped the spear, unsheathing his sword and with a roar rushed the enemy general, who parried the blow. Both samurai were frozen as their swords met, their eyes locking only inches from their face. The Daimyo roared, kicking Saigo and pushing them apart, both men circling each other like lions. More minutes passed and both men closed in again, hacking and parrying several blows. Saigo felt the blood dripping down his arm from the last blow, while he saw that the Daimyo himself was wounded, blood dripping down the side of his faceplate.\n\nThe Kumamoto lord rushed, and Saigo saw his chance, landing a glancing blow against his chest armor and elbowing the man in his face. The combination of the two blows served to throw the man off balance, his arms swinging wildly in the air, and Saigo saw the opening he needed, his reaction instantaneous as grappled the man by the neck, using his other hand to plunge the katana underneath the armpit of his armor. A slight tension and resistance came from the lord as the blade cut through his arm, through the network of arteries into his heart. More blood gushing out from under him.\n\nThis was the proper way. The honorable way. He thought.\n\nHe'd always believed guns were a coward's weapon.\n\nThe man suddenly tensed, then relaxed, his last breath of life leaving him. Karma. Saigo withdrew his blade, letting the man's corpse drop onto the ground, now steaming with blood and moved on.\n\n", "He frowned ever so slightly as he watched the glint of metal in the streetlight, a polished nickel plated .45 sliding out from the makeshift holster of the thug's waistband. He would have shook his head if he had the time, but guns had a way of speeding everything up, making people get sloppy. He had to move before the coward got a bead on him, and move he did, reaching for his own weapon in the process.\n\n\"You gon' die tonight, bro!\" The thug was all bravado, no balls. A child could kill a man with a gun. It made death trivial. All too easy to point the weapon in anger and end a life before you contemplated the worth. No, a gun was not a weapon for a real fight. He preferred a weapon that had to be carefully considered before it was used, something that was as dangerous to the user as the intended victim. Pulling his weapon put both of their lives on the line.\n\nThe thug leveled the .45 in his direction just as he readied his reply. With a firm yank, the pin was removed, and he let the lever fly over his shoulder as he tossed the grenade to his enemy. They both bolted in opposite directions. He didn't know if the thug got clear, but he knew better than to look back before the boom.\n\nHe'd always believed that guns were a coward's weapon, but it took real balls to bring a grenade to a street fight.", "\"If I do good, will I not be accepted?\"\n\nThe humble firearm will always retain its place in the great history of violence. \n\nI slew my brother Abel with a knife of flint, I impaled him with an iron spear, I ran him through with sword of steel, and, yes, I pierced his chest with full metal jacket. \n\nThat primordial day when our conversation lulled and our eyes met in the field, his jaw went limp but he was not afraid. He did not beg. Abel was the only man who saw me for what I am. I thought my jealousy would be avenged that day, but Abel robbed me even of that satisfaction. \n\n\"If I do good, will I not be accepted?\" \n\nSin has crouched upon my door and I was to overcome it, but I embraced it as a brother, a brother to be treasured above my brother Abel. I envied him so. I wear my mark of guilt every day. It is my shame.\n\nI have toppled kingdoms for fear of lost glory. I have sent men to die that my ego save its offense. I've forsaken my sons and daughters to serve Mammon. I have divided mother from child. I have drawn nation against nation.\n\n\"If I do good, will I not be accepted?\"\n\n I, Cain, the Father of Murder have never known peace. I have but known only fear. Fear that my sins will one day be avenged sevenfold.", "He'd always believed that guns were a coward's weapon.\n\nA man with a gun had murdered his brother Carlo – a shot out of the darkness of an alleyway, a quick rifling of Carlo’s pockets and then … gone. The federales, of course, knew nothing and cared less about finding out. Gomez's anger had dimmed over the years but had never faded.\n\nGomez himself preferred a blade – he carried two, always had. The double-edged knife with the onyx handle was always under his shirt at the small of his back. He had made a name for himself in his younger days – a twitch of his shirt, a quick flick of the wrist, and suddenly a man had a second, redder smile under his chin, or was suddenly amazed to find his insides falling out onto his boots. \n\nA second blade, a worn straight razor, its edge honed down over decades to a narrow sliver, rode in his boot top. It had saved him on several occasions, and, since it had been a gift from his wife, he considered it a talisman as well as a useful tool.\n\nBut age had robbed him of his reflexes and strength. He still carried his knives, but now he only went to the café and back, or occasionally to the market to sit in the shade next to his friend Ernesto as he hawked his wares. \n\nThat was where he was when the buchons came swaggering through the market on Friday, the bulges of their pistols showing through their tight T-shirts, arms and necks covered in a grotesque scrawl of ink. He sat smoking as he watched them approach other vendors, collecting money from some, throwing others against walls or into the dust, mouthing obscenities and laughing as they did so. He saw Ernesto’s face grow pale and saw him reaching for the small box in which he kept his cash, and put his hand on Ernesto’s arm. “Wait a moment,” he said.\n\n“Wait for what?” Ernesto replied. “It’s always the same. They come, they take half, they leave. I want no trouble with them.”\n\n“Just wait, old friend.” Ernesto recognized the tone of Gomez’s voice, sighed and sat back in the shade, and waited.\n\nThe toughs approached – three of them, dressed almost identically in tight white T-shirts, with various English and Spanish logos, dark jeans and boots. All wore sunglasses, and all had their pistols in their waistbands under their shirts. Gomez noted their nonchalance, their arrogance -- and the fact that it would take some fumbling to get to their guns under the tightly-tucked shirts.\n\n“Where’s our money, ruco?” the one in the lead drawled to Ernesto. He had a cigarette tucked behind an ear and a scar that ran from his jawline to just under his left eye. Tattoos crawled out from under his collar and up and around his neck – Spanish obscenities, prison slang, barbed wire, flames. \n\n“No money today,” Gomez replied softly. “Business has been slow.”\n\nThe leader’s head swiveled toward Gomez, as did his friends'. It was just after noon and the glare was bright out there, Gomez noted, and he was in the shade: With their sunglasses on, these guajes wouldn’t be able to see him well.\n\n“And who the fuck are you?” the leader asked. His anger was quick to come, Gomez saw. He’d be impulsive, reckless. Gomez had seen him tip another vendor’s stall over just moments before, after hardly giving the man time to dig his money out.\n\n“I’m the one who tells you there’s no money for you today,” Gomez replied, still speaking softly. “Maybe someone else has some for you.” \n\nThe leader stared at Gomez for a moment, then started walking toward him, tugging at the hem of his shirt.\n\n“Who the fuck you talking to, ruco?” he asked, his voice rising as he advanced. “You know who the fuck you’re dealing with? I’m gonna put a hole in you, pendejo.” He ducked under the awning, one hand drawing the gun out of his pants while he moved to take off his sunglasses with the other. \n\nThen he stopped in front of Gomez, almost as if reconsidering. His friends, still standing in the glare, hadn’t seen Gomez’s hand move, but Ernesto had. He slid sideways out of his chair, turned and ran for the brick archway and the gloom of the interior of the market behind them.\n\nThe leader, meanwhile, stood looking down at Gomez, the forgotten pistol dangling from one hand as the gray and brown ropes of his entrails began to slip and sag out of the gaping slice the ran the length of his torso just above the waistband of his pants. He dropped the sunglasses and put his hand to the cut, trying to hold in the pieces of himself and the sheeting blood, while Gomez plucked the pistol out of his other hand. \n\n“You … you…” the man whispered, staring at Gomez, now holding both hands to his midsection as his knees began to buckle.\n\n“Me,” Gomez agreed, before leaning sideways around the man and taking aim at his two friends, who still appeared clueless as to what had just happened. Gomez put a round in each man’s chest, and then one more in each man’s head when they were down. He stood, the echoes of the gunshots fading away down the stalls, and the market was emptying around him, vendors fleeing with their money and what they could grab of their stock. \n\nGomez leaned down and wiped his knife blade on the dead man’s shirt as the man’s guts and other foul things continued leaking out of him, then walked over and collected the pistols from the other two dead buchons. Then, grabbing Ernesto’s money box for him, Gomez walked out of the market and back down the plaza toward his rooms, patting the pistols under his shirt as he did so. \n\nHe still didn’t think much of guns, but there was no denying that they had their uses.", "He'd always believed guns were a coward's weapon. Swords were the way of the warrior; they stood for strength, courage and bravery unlike those cowardly invaders. And here they were coming to kill him.\n\nHe charged at the squad of soldiers, as he ran he dragged his swords across the ground. The ditches made would be a good start for the burial of the enemy.\n\nThe enemy fired with their false courage and La'til brought his swords up to deflect the bullets. What fools thinking they could challenge a man of his calibre!\n\nOf course when the cold metal penetrated his body he realised that guns were not cowardly - they were ruthless and efficient, the perfect way to kill. The humans were monstrous. Terrifying. La'til collapsed into the dirt and waited for Death.\n\nThe soldiers pressed on, eager to finish the mission. One stopped and lowered his gun. \"Natives...\" he muttered to himself. Bang. The soldier moved on...", "Duels weren't what they used to be. \n\nIn a land where man challenged man with a pistol in his hand and paced away ten steps, the glory of the duel had dissipated with the chivalry that died just the same.\n\nThey had laughed at him, when he stepped out of the carriage and walked into the Wild West bar dressed in fine Victorian garb. They had sneered and jeered at him and his clean-shaven face and light, airy step as he walked. They called him names and degraded him as he drank his own fine whiskey, from his own gold-leafed carrying case, and minded his own business.\n\nIt was all laughter until he challenged the first man to a duel. He rose to his full height--taller than all the dark-haired, dirty-skinned men of the west--and brandished a polished rapier on his hip.\n\nThe two men took their fight out into the dusty streets of the small, near-barren town. One held a pistol while the other held the antiquated rapier in meticulous condition.\n\nBack to back the two paced out ten paces from the other. Each step was a gait for the western man, and a fluid glide for the foreign visitor who still had yet to say a word. Once they reached the end, both turned to face each other, yet neither drew their weapon.\n\nTime was displaced; the dust blew around the two of them, tossing debris about as if it were only paper. Silence was the voice of this engagement. Suddenly, the six shooter was drawn and let loose one of its leaden rounds.\n\nAs if performing a dance routine, the swordsman spun, dodging the first round fired, pirouetting toward the gunman still bearing no expression.\n\nWith a mute musical sway, the swordsman then dodged the following five rounds as if they were nothing, having loosed from the barrel of a now-empty revolver. \n\nNow the gunman stumbled backward, the swordsman only a step away. As he turned to run, he instead fell flat on his back. The swordsman, untouched, finally spoke. \"Deserving.\" And he ran the tip of his rapier surgically through the jugular. \n\nThe swordsman wiped the hot, wet blood from the tip of his blade and returned to his drink. \n\nHe'd always believed that guns were a coward's weapon.\n" ]	7
	[WP] Time travel is possible, but only by transferring your conscience to another body in a different era.	[ "A Dreamland\n**\nAuthor's Note\n\nThis is a first draft, there's a lot that I probably can do to increase the story's quality that I didn't do. This one's for the dreamers.\n** \n1\n\nWe were told that we had one life only, and to not waste it. We hadn't known that we could get another, it was a myth, a lie. It was sin to think that we could create a new life that we could live in, but we didn't care. I wish we weren't as selfish as we were. I wish I could go back.\n**\n2\n\nI had dreamed of the future. It was a paradise. There was no war, no hunger, no problem. Everything you needed was there. Food. Water. Entertainment. It was there. I wished I was there. It was a utopia. I had loved my vision, but as I awoke, that's what it was. Just a vision. But I had made it a mission to re-create it. To create a new world.\n\nI looked around my mess of a room for my iPhone. It was half past seven in the morning. I had received a text from Ayana. She had left for work early for some reason.\n\n>I packed you a lunch. Cracked Peppermill, your favorite ;D See you later <3\n\nI put on my white collared shirt, my black pants that were destined to become linty, and my red tie. Today was the day. The company was going to unveil something big. A grand event was planned. And as big as this event is, I still wasn't allowed to celebrate, but instead, I was assigned to improve the big surprise while they show off the prototype. I took my sandwich made with love in my generic lunch box and left my studio apartment.\n\nI waited for the 3 train on 96th that day, wondering what was I going to do after work. Maybe I would take Ayana out on a date. Who knows?\n\nThe train had arrived, a nice and empty 3 train. There was a guy who had caught my attention specifically. He couldn't be any younger than 15. His eyes were a chocolate-brown color behind glasses. He stared at the door across from him, the door I entered in. He was in a black jacket, blue jeans, the normal casual getup. He seemed familiar, but I didn't recall meeting him. His stop was only one stop before mine. 42nd Street.\n*\n3\n\n\n /log begin User: LBorowski Pass: ******** Timestamp: 9:45:57 PM 9/22/43 Geolocation: 40° 42' 45.60'' N,74° 0' 47.37'' W\nI woke up in a whitewashed room, as per procedure. \nMy retinas were scanned by my Oculus, as per procedure. \nWaited for the new Yankee Game simulation at precicely 3:45:01 PM EST \nAndrew Copenhagen was the starting pitcher, with an ERA of 3.48 \nThe game lasted 10 innings due to a long tie \nCopenhagen lasted 5 innings \nHarowitz had taken his place as a relieving pitcher \nEnded the game with a 127 km/h Slurve outside for a walk-off homer \nDamn, that was a good game.\n\n /savelog\n\n /endprocess C:\\Program Files\\Facebook\\Oculus\\Cloud\\CloudPad\\CloudPad.exe\n\n4\n\nShine on you craaaaazzzzyy diamond.* The phrase echoed in my head. Sure, I could've just listened to some New Wave or some Run DMC, but something inside me had forced me not to. I don't know if it was the sunset on the horizon of Miami Beach or the smell of the new Delorean I had earned. That new car smell... A promise of adventure that needs to be broken in, like a baseball mitt. I drove it down to the parking lot by my office, where I would continue revolutionizing interior design.\n\nI was sure I had done it. I named it \"Minimal Whitewash\". I showed my boss this design and he said it was great. By the next morning, the concept was sent in along with a small model. It was already halfway to the New York office, all we needed to do was wait.\n**\n5\n\nI was at the office on 32nd Street and 9th Avenue. The boss had asked me to integrate a computer into a bedroom, along with the capability to integrate with the Oculus VR headset. I assured him I was on it and began my work. After many, many ideas, one popped out as the inspiration for this project: \"The Future is Now\". I had centered my creation around this idea. The future. It was horrific. It was too... Simple... Too present. But then, a lightbulb formed! I rushed down to the basement and looked for an archive box. Anything from the 90s is too fresh, I thought, but the 70s seemed too old. And then I stumbled upon the 80s. The present looks on the 80s as cool, so I thought, why not? I looked through some past designs... Too square... Too colorful... Too retro... But then, I stumbled upon a masterpiece. \"Minimal Whitewash\" was it's name. It's corners were rounded and the room was in a glossy color of white. It was a vision of the future, and soon, it was going to be a part of it.\n\nI made a copy of the concept, making room for an in-wall TV, a bluetooth radio for the Oculus VR, the works.\n\nWithin months, the concept was greenlighted and was soon a reality. Every home in America will have one of these.\n*\n6\n\nA commercial blared loudly on the television set:\n\n>Become your ancient ancestors! Become your future offspring! The Animus™, heavily based on the Assassin's Creed* series, is now a reality!\n\nThe next set of lines read aloud were sped up to a speed so they were almost unintelligible, but I managed to hear them.\n\n>Product requires Oculus VR headset and Minimal Room version 2.6. Product licensed and distributed by Ubisoft in collaboration with Facebook Labs. Please read warnings on packaging before use. \n\n**\n7\n\nJay had tinkered with his room for a bit. He was always interested in how things work and pushing them to it's limits. He discovered he could modify the coding of his room; make it do things it wasn't meant to do. Jay began to log onto 4chan, looking at posts on /b/. He saw something interesting while on there:\n\n>Hacked the Animus database. Here you go guys. Every single strand of uploaded DNA.\n\nJay, interested to see how fake this was, clicked on the link, loading a Dropbox download link. He clicked it, downloading Terabytes of data onto his Solid State Drive. He checked the files to see if they were compatible with his room. All of them were .anid files, the files of DNA of the Animus. He had hired some testers to test out his newly compiled Animus Hack. The files were distributed via a private Skype group, which was never found by anyone.\n\nThe testers loaded up their downloaded Animus Hack into their rooms and headsets.\n\n run C:\\Program Files\\JayTech\\AnimusTest\\anidhack.exe\n\nThey were all pronounced dead at the discovery of their bodies.\n*\n8\n\nI had awakened to the sound of Ayana's voice.\n>Wake up, sweetie.\n\nI had a vision. It was of the future, but it was so surreal. It's almost like I died... I shared this with Ayana.\n>What? You're joking, right?\n\nShe didn't believe me, I couldn't believe this. We've trusted each other all of our lives.\n>What the fuck are you on, Ben? You didn't die, you were here the whole time.\n\nAnd she was right, Ben didn't die. I did.\n*\n9\n\n run CloudPad.exe\n /log begin User: LBorowski Pass: ********** Timestamp: 10:47:32 AM 2/1/23 Geolocation: 40° 42' 45.60'' N,74° 0' 47.37'' W\n\nWeird feeling in my gut today... Feel like an entirely new person... Oh well... Guess it's log time. \nHannah came over to my room today. She wore a slimming standard-issue Oculus bodysuit, but it was amazing on her. \nOf all my times seeing her in that, this was the first time it stood out. \nAnywho, I guess that might be the feeling in my gut. \nMan, whoever Hannah is dating at the moment is one lucky dude. \nI can't even wait to talk to her later tonight.\n\n /savelog\n\n endprocess C:\\Program Files\\Facebook\\Oculus\\Cloud\\CloudPad\\CloudPad.exe", "I stared at the refection in the mirror. It was a face I couldn’t begin to comprehend that stared back at me. A girl, I guessed mid-teens? The slim body was clothed in yellow girl pajamas with pink hearts. Big blue eyes with a shocked stare looked back at me. They were set in a small oval face with a stunned expression framed by long blond wavy hair. I went to move my hand and a small hand approached the face in the mirror. I froze. The small hand stopped. I willed the hand to move again and the small fingers moved up and picked at the sleep tangled hair. The blue eyes traveled to a pair of small bulges in the pajama top. Trembling fingers dropped the strands of hair and tentatively touched the left one through the fabric of the top. I felt the touch. The arm dropped to the side. I continued to stare at a face I didn’t recognize, but somehow had oddly familiar features, but... The face of what seemed, as best as I could guess, to be a normal young teenage girl. How? Why? I blinked. She was still there. \n\nI slowly pulled the eyes from the mirror and surveyed the room. I could see everything clearly without my glasses, huh? It was immediately familiar. My room, when I was a teenager, back in the sixties. The wallpaper was different, feminine, and same with the various accessories. It was certainly my room from fifty or so years ago. My eyes settled on a calendar on the wall, August 1962. Ok! Ok! Maybe, it’s a dream, the most vivid dream of my sixty-four year life. No, I never dream in color, only Suzie did that… oh, Suzie, where is she? I glanced back to the single bed with the pink blanket that I had pushed to one side. Damn, what’s going on? Time travel, but how, where’s my body? Who’s this girl I’m inside of? Why is my old room all girly? ‘Idiot, you were just looking at why the damn room is all girly,’ I thought to myself. Damn! In the typical stories, the traveler always arrived in their own body, right, in some machine, tunnel, flying Delorean or some other stupid fucking thing? That’s the rule, right? You don’t just wake up in a different time in a different body, right? Then I thought, ‘Stupid fool, whoever said there were rules about time travel, about any sci-fi. Shit!’ I slapped the palm of the small hand on the bureau, and then winced at the minor pain. \n\n“Bert?” A childlike feminine voice called. I froze and gasped, who was that? Who was Bert, her, this body, me now?\n\n“Mom’s making pancakes and she said to make sure you’re up.” A small, thin girl about ten opened the bedroom door and looked around. In one look, the hair, the eyes, the vaguely similar features that had been somehow familiar to me in the mirror where reflected back and I knew… it was my sister. \n\n“Oh, you’re up.”\n\n“Linda?” I gasped in a strange feminine voice.\n\n“Yeah, what?” she looked at me quizzically. “Mom said the pancakes will be ready in ten minutes so, hurry up.” She paused and looked at me. “You look funny, something wrong with you?” \n\n“Uh, well, ah, nothing, I’ll be right down.” I managed to get out in the same feminine voice. Linda gave me a funny look, then shrugged, turned and headed back downstairs. Linda? Why? How? I stood there stunned for a few seconds, my mind going over the same incredible thoughts. Time travel? Parallel universes? But why am I not me? Why am I in this girl body? Damn, time travel really doesn’t work, especially this wrong body crap, more likely parallel universe, but how? But then I guess there aren’t any rules that I know about for whatever this is. I choked on the thought. I lifted a small hand up to my face, turned it around and wiggled the little fingers. Holy shit! \n\nI stood for a few seconds debating what to do. I looked down at the pajamas and thought about getting dressed somehow. Linda was still in her pajamas and I knew I would probably need more than ten minutes to figure out what to wear and where to find things. More importantly, I could feel a full bladder. I made it downstairs to the bathroom. The house was just as my hazy memories remembered it, same layout with the same furniture, rugs, wallpapers, and so on. In the bathroom, I hesitated, and then quickly remembered to sit. Damn, now I knew why women needed toilet paper after they pee… jeez. Where the hell were the washcloths and towels? Then I remembered; they’re out in the cabinet in the hall. I was quickly out, and then back in the bathroom. I washed the stranger’s face that looked back at me, brushed the small teeth that showed when I grimaced thinking about this situation and stared at the mass of sleep tangled hair in the mirror. I ran the small thin fingers through it a few times but with little improvement made, gave up. I gritted the teeth and left the bathroom for the kitchen apprehensively anticipating who I would find there.\n\nI stood frozen at the kitchen entrance, trying to maintain my composure. My mother, who had died more than twenty years ago, was making pancakes. My father, gone for more than a dozen years, had finished his eggs and bacon. Now, he was reading the newspaper with a cigarette burning in the ashtray next to him. Linda, a grandmother of two boys, older than she was here, was pouring more syrup on her pancakes. Tears welled up in my eyes as I crossed the room and hugged my mother. I wasn’t sure if it was just my emotions at seeing Mom again or some combination with the teen girl hormones. I choked out “Mom” as I hugged her for the first time I could in almost a quarter of a century. \n\n“Oh, Honey, are you OK?” Mom half turned from the fry pan to look at me. She looked surprised and concerned at my tear filled eyes. “What’s wrong?”\n\n“Oh, I’m… I don’t know… I… I love you…” I choked out, then let go and rubbed my eyes.\n\n“Well, I love you too honey, pancakes are ready, and here are two. How many more do you want?” she asked.\n\n“Two are fine.” I said, not really knowing how hungry I, her? this body was or how stable the stomach was at this point. I took the plate with the two pancakes and went and sat down at my ‘usual’ place at the table. I looked between my two parents thinking how young they were. My memory was of them older, as grandparents, with the typical infirmities of age, like I am now, or was?\n\nMy father looked up at me from the paper and smiled quizzically. “Bert, honey, you OK?”\n\n“Yeah, sure, just teen hormones kicking in, I guess.” I responded lightly without thinking and received a shocked raised eye browed expression from Dad. Why did he call me Bert, like Linda did? Oh, jeez, she, me, is the first girl in the family since my father’s Aunt Bertha, and so, they named her Bertha. Crap! Linda looked up and over at him.\n\n“What are hormones?” she asked.\n\nDad glared at me. ‘Oh, shit.’ I thought, and then mumbled. “Ah, sorry,” as I looked down at my plate and Dad responded to Linda that it wasn’t anything important, just things teenagers get sometimes. Fortunately, Linda shrugged and returned to her pancakes. \n\nI absentmindedly tried to wipe the hair away from my face as I reached for the Vermont Maid syrup. My mind raced along trying to decide what to say or when to say anything to my parents. I sure could use a cup of coffee, probably a stiff drink would be better, yeah, a shot of Jameson, probably the whole figgin’ bottle, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen. \n\n“Bert, honey, do you want milk or orange juice?” Mom asked.\n \n“Could I have a cup of coffee?” I responded.\n\nInstantly, both sets of parental eyes were focused on me. “Since when do you drink coffee?” Dad asked.\n\nI knew saying, for the past forty something years, was not the right answer. “Um, I’d like to try it?” I asked tentatively. My parents looked at each other for a moment. \n\nMom got a cup. “Do you want milk and sugar in it?”\n\n “No thanks, black is fine.” I responded, gaining me more arched eyebrows from the both of them.\n\nShe half-filled the cup and handed it to me. I now had three sets of eyes watching as I took a sip, damn, I’d forgotten how strong my mother’s coffee was, certainly not Dunkin Donuts or Starbucks. I took another, and then went back to the pancakes, thinking how do I play this? I had no memories for this girl body. I had only my sixty years of guy memories. They were going to know something was wrong pretty quick. Linda finished and went in the living room to watch TV. I got up, cleared all the plates from the table and started to rinse them in the sink. ‘Shit!’ I thought as I stopped scraping the leftovers into the drain, ‘no garbage disposal. Damn!’ I fished the few pieces of pancake out of the sink drain as my mind continued racing to develop some coherent thought, ah, plan, to break the ‘news’. \n\n“Is it OK if I have another cup of coffee? Do you guys want a refill?” I asked. Again, my parents exchanged looks. I immediately realized ‘guys’ was probably not the usual term a girl would use in 1962 to refer to her parents. Whatever…\n\n“Sure, I’d like a refill.” Dad responded. I grabbed the old coffee percolator from the stove and filled his cup, then looked at Mom. \n\n“No, honey I’m fine.” She smiled at me, but with a vague look of concern.\n\nI filled my cup, put the pot back, sat down at the table, took a sip and looked up to see them both looking at me. \n\n“Um, there’s something important I have to tell you.” I nervously began. \n\n\nThere are 23 more chapters to this novel length story....", "Chapter 1 - Holy Shit\n\nI stared at the words on the computer screen. The current issue was a minor case of writer’s block delaying the progress on the current chapter of the time travel sci-fi story before me. I liked to stay a couple of chapters ahead when I’m posting my fan fiction stories; it kept me from feeling as pressured when my brain got stuck in neutral. I focused on trying to decide how David’s parents would react to him introducing his new girlfriend as a Lowell mill girl from 1837. Hum, I pondered various parental reactions to this, oh, unique situation? “Ah…” I had a thought. His father would probably say something like… As I typed my mental word vomit appeared on the screen. I stopped and studied the results, ‘no, not that way, I wouldn’t say that, sounds lame’, back arrow gets a short work out then more new words are added. I studied the current version of my thoughts. Word had berated my spelling ability again with its infamous red squiggly underline. ‘Oops missed the ‘e’, hum… Oh, ah, if I moved this phase over here it would flow better, um, adjust the punctuation,’ I thought to myself as I cut and pasted. After reviewing the completed lines of dialog, I thought a second. ‘Would I say something like that if Jimmy or Drew brought home a girl with such a story?’ I sat back in my chair and pondered. ‘Sure, I can see myself saying that,’ I smiled at the thought of my reaction to such a crazy situation. That’s the fun of writing time travel stories; it’s never happened and probably never will, so it’s wide open to literary creativity.\n\n“Jim, I’m tired, I’m ready for bed. I can’t keep my eyes open reading my book. You ready? Did you take your pills?” It was Suzie’s usual questions as she leaned over me and waited for a kiss. It was all part of our little reminders to keep each other on track with the small routines of life. \n\nI leaned up and our lips met for the casual kiss. “Yeah, I did…” I responded and smiled at her. I looked back to the screen and glanced at the ‘clock’ in the corner, almost eleven already. “OK, I’m done with this for now.” I mumbled as I saved the word document and closed down the computer. \n\nAfter the usual evening bathroom routine, we were on our bed. She was in her old comfortable baggy pajamas doing her exercises for her arthritic knee. She already had her wrist braces on for her carpal tunnel along with the knee brace. I was beside her doing the stretching exercises for my bad back. We were the typical couple in their sixties fighting the aches and pains of aging. I finished and looked over as she lay on her side and started the up and down movement of her left leg. ‘Three kids, three caesareans, she didn’t look bad at all.’ I smiled evilly to myself as I reached over and grabbed her butt cheek. She yelped in surprise, but ignored me, continuing the leg raisers. \n\nI slipped my hand between her legs as they separated. “Stop it, you’re going make me lose count. “ She pouted as she pushed my hand away and continued. My hand was back with the next leg raise. She instantly grabbed my hand and instead of pushing it away pulled it in tight to her crotch. She rubbed it hard against herself for a few seconds, while emitting a loud orgasmic moan, then pushed it away again and continued the leg raisers. I grinned as I started massaging her back, knowing that would get the response I really wanted. The leg raisers stopped as she leaned into my hands. I moved them around on her back finding her favorite spots. Soft moans started and soon thoughts of sleep vanished as we became involved in a much more pleasurable mutual exercise. We ended up in our familiar spooning position as we relaxed in the afterglow. \n\nAbout one, I woke up to a numb right arm and leg twitches from my restless leg syndrome. I lay there mentally balancing the pleasure of snuggling with my wife of thirty-two years and the various body aches… hum; well anyway, I had to pee. I slowly pulled away, kissed her neck, and patted her ass as I moved over and slid out of bed. She responded with a slight moan and slowly adjusted her legs, which I knew meant the arthritic knee was bothering her. I made it into the bathroom where my bladder did its best to push the urine past my enlarged prostate. Back in bed, I tossed and turned trying to find the best position for my back. Three-fifteen, I’m awake again, another trip to the bathroom. Again, I moved around trying to find a reasonably comfortable position on our memory foam mattress. About this time Suzie made one of her trips to the bathroom. I again drifted off to sleep.\n\n“Bark!” \n\nOh, shit, it had better be after five or Cowboy is going to be in… \n\n“Bark!” \n\nCrap, I looked over at the alarm clock with the red glowing three inches tall numbers that I could see without my glasses –five twenty. Fine. I’m up and out into the dark kitchen where our fifteen year old semi-senile Chihuahua was prancing around my feet looking for breakfast. With only a nightlight and no glasses, I couldn’t really see him well, but heard his nails on the tile. Fortunately, he was still smart enough to keep out from under my feet as I dropped the allotted amount of dry food in his bowl. After a detour to the bathroom for a third time, I was back in bed with more tossing and turning, while thinking at least it was Sunday so we could sleep in some this morning. I vaguely remembered the dim light of dawn as I fell asleep, again.\n\nI slowly woke for the fourth time. Eyes still closed, I thought something was odd. I had clothes? I was sleeping in the nude, so what the hell? Even more than that something else was odd, physically, but? Then there was a blanket beside the sheet on the bed? The bed itself was different, harder? All these things rushed past my consciousness in the first few seconds as my hand moved over the unfamiliar fabric to my crotch in a usual adjustment move as I rolled over. The stunning realization that something was missing, instantly registered in my mind. My eyes shot open as my hand frantically grabbed at the material. I sat bolt upright and pushed the sheet and blanket away from myself as long blond hair swung by my face. My male mind didn’t notice the hair, or the easy painless movement, being more focused on the immediate issue. In my frenzied state, I searched inside the strange pink and yellow pajama bottoms. Pubic hair, Ok, check. Not much though? Then nothing— well, not nothing, I actually felt something rather familiar. Huh? What the f…\n", "The floor groaned as Erwin walked to the sink for water. It was still quite dark outside, but indications of life were starting to fill the town square below. Men in suits occasionally drifted the cobblestones like black ghosts.\n\nHe remembered a vague image from his dream. In some darkness, a girl with red hair smiled at him.\n\nA strange name - Freida - had attached itself to her in his mind. Although he did not remember details, also attached was a peculiar, dark feeling; one of those sadnesses that can accompany anonymous dreams. His ears rang from the dream, a little high screech just for him.\n\nErwin put the glass down, sighed, and blinked a few times. He had been getting up early his whole life, but he would never be used to it. He washed quickly at the sink and walked back over to the bed to get ready for the day.\n\nWhen he was dressed and had swallowed half a breakfast, it was time to open the shop. He rushed downstairs, quickly tidied the shelves, and turned around the sign on the door.\n\nIt was a cold day outside. The patrons who slowly dripped through the door were thickly wrapped in coats, hats and scarves.\n\nIt must be winter, he thought.\n\nOf course it is, just like it has been for weeks, he thought. His brain had been strange, lately.\n\n*\n\nA few hours trudged past. Business was bleak, and only four or five came through the door all morning.\n\nHerr Matzelsberger, one of his few loyal, regular customers, came in and asked for some shoe polish. There was none on display, so Erwin went through to the storeroom. As he rifled through the drawers, he heard a dull crack from the front of the store. Rushing back through, he came across Herr Matzelsberger whose body was now splayed on the ground.\n\n\"Aah- ah! It's my knee- my knee gave out.\"\n\nTears ran down the old man's face, and some blood ran down his forehead from a cut given to him by a shelf's corner as he fell. Erwin advanced immediately to help, pulling bandages and alcohol from the shop's display.\n\nWhen Herr Matzelsberger could walk with support, Erwin closed the shop and took him home, which was minutes away. There was nobody shopping anyway.\n\nHe helped him in the door and onto a soft armchair.\n\n\"Thank you. You are a kind boy, Erwin.\"\n\n\"I am sure anybody else would have done the same,\" replied Erwin.\n\n\"No, I do not think so,\" replied the old man.\n\nThen he said something Erwin did not understand. In the middle of the next sentence was a word that banged with dissonance. It bent his brain. 'Schleppen'. It hit him like a physical object and made his head spin on impact.\n\n\"I'm sorry, what was that word? Schleppen?\"\n\nHerr Matzelsberger stared from his chair. Then he chuckled. \"What are you talking about? Yes, schleppen, as in you carried a large, heavy object, myself, a long distance. I did not realise you were such a pedant for word choice, Erwin.\"\n\nErwin shook his head, confused. He was not satisfied with this explanation. When the old man repeated the word, 'schleppen', it happened again. It made all the words around it seem less certain too, like it was the start of a deep crack growing through his mind. There was a familiarity too, a feeling that he had felt this before, recently. \n\nFreida. The dream girl's face. It was not the same feeling, exactly, but more of an occupation of a similar territory. None of it felt right, anyway.\n\nHe decided to leave and said a quick goodbye.\n\n\n\nHe still mulled over that word when he got back to the shop. Schleppen. Herr Matzelsberger had clearly thought it was a word Erwin should have easily known. Even Erwin felt like he knew it - that was half of what worried him. Old age was a figure in the distance, but right now he felt like it had turned its head back towards him.\n\nHe could not stop obsessing over the sound – it was alien, as if it was from another world. Schleppen. Schleppen, schleppen. Why did it not work for him?\n\nBecause, a thought suggested, it doesn't have a direct equivalent. It doesn't translate, so it sticks out at you. This is a messy process and things can get... lost.\n\nHe now became deeply worried. That thought was not his own. It was in a different register entirely, like a memory of somebody else's voice.\n\nAnd then, in one moment, he did know the word 'schleppen'. He knew it and he knew that he had always known it\n\n\"Sir- sir? Please?\" Another voice. A real one. Erwin opened his eyes to see a man with a grey moustache standing in front of him, across the counter.\n\n\"H-hello, sir.\" He answered by reflex.\n\n\"My son is over there. He's looking for oil paints. Do you have any in stock?\"\n\n\"We... we do, actually.\" Erwin righted himself. \"I'll bring them over so he can have a look.\" The man nodded.\n\nErwin went through to the storeroom and looked for the paints. As he did, he started to feel a bit better. He had been silly to get so worked up about a mild trip-up in his brain. He really was tired.\n\nHe walked out into the store front and towards the father and his boy. As his eyes passed over the scrawny, slick-haired figure, his stomach and mind erupted in convulsions, and he froze in place. The little boy gave him a feeling like a thousand 'schleppens' rang out at once, pervading every sense in his body. Even the scent of him- like a force of nature- every instinct in Erwin's body flared up at the appearance of this child.\n\nThe boy turned. Erwin recognised that face right away. He did not know how.\n\nThe boy simply inspected the paints. He came in closer as he did.\n\n\"What do you think, Adolf?\" asked the father.\n\nErwin stood, staring at him. \n\nStrangle him.\n\nErwin did nothing.\n\nStrangle him. Break his neck. Kick him to the ground and crush the life out of his body.\n\nErwin didn't move. Hitler took out a bottle of paint. His father had ambled outside to wait.\n\nThis was as close as you could get. This is your only chance to end the suffering. Before it starts.\n\nStill, he did not shift. He began to remember things.\n\nDo it.\n\nSomehow, he couldn't.\n\nDO IT.\n\nI do not think I can take a child's life, he decided.\n\nThis isn't just a child; this is a monster. Try to think of what you can't remember about him. This is for a greater purpose.\n\nIt was murder, cold murder that he was here for.\n\nI already have remembered, he thought. I know what he did. Or, does. It's despicable, truly evil. But he isn't a monster yet. Do you not see that I should give him a chance – I, I could kidnap him, and raise him myself, and he could be relatively normal. And then nobody has to die at my hands. I do not know who I was before, but these hands are of a man who cannot do that.\n\nYou know you are being ridiculous. There is no other way. This is the one chance we have to kill him and save millions of lives. We cannot risk an alternative.\n\nStill staring down at the boy's head as he inspected a few paints, a thought came to Erwin of his own: I do now remember one detail about all this. I will still be here, in this vessel, when I complete this task. That knowledge has clung on. I would be hanged, or worse, for killing a child. Thinking of that alternative would spare me that fate, and do I not deserve some respite for executing this heinous task?\n\nThe other voice was silent for a moment.\n\nAdolf Hitler asked: \"Do you have any brushes?\"\n\nThe voice spoke again. You are remembering the wrong things about why we sent you here, and why you agreed.*\n\nErwin wondered what that meant. He knew that thinking about why he agreed made the same area of his brain vibrate as Freida and 'schleppen' did.\n\nIt just happened again, stronger this time. Freida. \n\nFreida.\n\nAnd then he saw Freida again. All at once she spiralled down in cascading images, even more vivid than in his dream, her smile and her freckles each worth all of his memory any day. He felt shame at having forgotten her, and traversed the gallery he had re-opened, savouring each step, each glimpse of her, pictures of the two of them – Erwin was somebody else, but he knew it to be himself too – in a market square, in a carriage beside a burning fireplace. Always, she was laughing. He smiled.\n\nHitler spoke again: \"Sir? Do you have brushes?\"\n\nErwin moved towards the back of these memories and saw Freida now become thinner, sadder. She was emaciated. She was sick. Then, her silhouette was in smoke, and there were sounds of shouting in the streets.\n\nThen he saw Freida again, face-on. He heard her screaming, and he realised he had been hearing it forever. Fire crackled. He saw her body burning and her bones and skin tumble to the ground as the screaming turned to sizzling – the sounds blended perfectly.\n\nHitler was looking up at Erwin, puzzled. Erwin snapped shut the box of paints and smashed the little boy across the face, making him fall backward onto the ground. Throwing the box aside, Erwin advanced on him." ]	4
	[WP] The Grimm Reaper Explains Why Now is the Time.	[ "John sat there with a blank look for a moment. You tend to do that when you find out you're dead.\n\n\"Well, fuck.\"\n\n\"Yep, that's life.\"\n\n\"Death you mean.\"\n\n\"Right.\"\n\n\nAn awkward silence stood there for a moment.\n\n\n\"So what now?\"\n\n\"Oh, right, sorry. I was waiting for the whole speech you know. Oh woe is me! But what about my children? This can't be my time? Who will feed the cat?\"\n\n\nThe reaper was gesticulating rather vividly. It was odd.\n\n\n\"Right, actually, thats a good question!\"\n\n\"What, the cat will do fine, I'm sure.\"\n\n\"No, I mean, why is it my time? The last I can remember, I seemed fairly fine.\"\n\n\"Right, and now you're dead.\"\n\n\"Yes, right, I don't think you see my point. Uh... why am I dead? I mean, how did I die? Why now?\"\n\n\"See that truck over there?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Remember all the times you got scolded as a kid for not looking both sides before you ran like a maniac over the road? See?\"\n\nJohn felt surprisingly guilty for a dead man.\n\n\"Yes, well, that fleshy pile behind it is you. Well almost, they haven't found your head yet. I hid it rather well this time.\"\n\n\"You... err... what?!\"\n\n\"It's fine, the big guys don't care if we have a little fun.\"\n\nJohn sat there in silence for a while. It was rather morbid watching the chase for his head.\n\n\"Ah, look at that, they finally thought of looking at the roof of that house. Welp, time to get back to work.\"\n\n\"So mind if I ask you something?\"\n\n\"Go for it.\"\n\n\"Are our deaths predetermined?\"\n\n\"Nah. You should have listened to your mum. Let's go.\"\n\n\"You sure my cat will be fine?\"\n\n\"Don't worry, I will be there if she's not.\"", "You blink back the tears, but the stinging is inevitable as your vision blurs and your lower lip won't stop quivering.\n\nYour room is dark, save the Batman night light in the corner that washes the room with a warm yellow light that would usually have calmed and lulled you into sleep. But not tonight. Tonight, your source of comfort reveals a figure at the foot of your bed, and even the light--as low as it is--seems to avoid the dark of his cloak. The fabric seems heavy, and it's darker than dark. Though the light should reveal some detail of its ruffles and curves, the darkness lies upon itself so that the whole figure seems like one large silhouette, even though the light hits it from its right.\n\nThe figure makes no extraneous movements, and when it does, its joints remind you of an old door hinge that hasn't been oiled in years. You can almost see its chin underneath its hood that hangs low over its face, but though you know it to be a chin because habit tells you that's where it should be, it seems sickly and much too thin and dry to be one. The whole body itself seems to be heavy with ailment. It rests its weight on a wooden cane, but the top curve and the accompanying hand that must be holding it is swallowed up by the sleeve of its cloak.\n\nYou have your blanket up to your eyes, trying to protect yourself from its presence, but you can't get yourself to pull it over your head and risk missing what it would do if you did. It stands silently, still at the foot of your bed, as if waiting for you to speak first.\n\nFinally, you do. You lower your blanket just until your mouth is uncovered.\n\n\"Why--who are you?! What do you want??\"\n\n\"I--\" it slowly says. You feel a sharp chill run down your spine. Its chin never moves and its low voice, though soft, seems to fill the whole room. \"I am Nothing. I am where there is not.\"\n\nIts slow response gives you an atom of courage to speak again. Your voice becomes a degree stronger. \"Why--why are you here?\"\n\n\"I am Not.\"\n\nYour nine-year-old mind cannot comprehend this. What is this? Where's your mom and dad? Couldn't they hear the voice from the other side of the wall? He could usually hear them when they talked--he could even make out the words when they yelled. Couldn't they hear.. this? But you're too afraid to call out. What would it do if you did?\n\nThen suddenly, an image snaps into your consciousness. Something from a movie, or maybe a TV show. You've seen something like this, though it was animated and not at all like this ominous darkness in your room. You remember it comically running around with a large sharp blade, and the cartoon characters running circles around it, and--\n\n\"Death?\" Your throat is dry and you hardly make any sound. You try again. \"Are you Death?\"\n\nIt turns its head slowly to your bedroom door. You can almost hear the groan and creak like a house settling as it looks in its direction and looks back again.\n\nYou feel panic. You're overcome with sheer emotion--you've never felt afraid of death like this before in your short existence, but your desire to survive kicks in so strongly that you feel the tears streaming down your face as you try to think of ways to escape your small room. But you're frozen with fear, and now you're wailing, even though you don't want to, but the terror is finding its voice in your body, and you can't help it.\n\nIt patiently waits.\n\nYou expect your parents to come bursting through the door at the sound of your crying, but nothing comes. Hope dies in your gurgling and crying, and you choke back your tears to ask it a question.\n\n\"Why?!\"\n\nIt moves towards you--slowly--and you could swear that you can hear its movements like metal chains clinking against one another. You want to run as it comes up the right side of your bed towards you, but your legs won't move, and you sit frozen in place as your fear breaks new barriers inside your tiny little chest.\n\n\"To take you where there is Not.\"\n\nIt gingerly takes the corner of your blanket and pulls it back. Out of habit, you quickly pull down your sleeves over the blue bruises on his forearm.\n\n\"Not--not what?\"\n\nIts response is barely above a whisper: \"No pain.\"\n\nIt extends its arm, the one not holding the cane, and the palest, longest, skinniest fingers you've ever seen comes out of the dark cave that is his sleeve like a serpent peeking out its head. You take short, quick breaths as you can't seem to move away. Its finger finally touches your forehead, and it's so cold. It moves the hair out of your eyes, revealing a gash on your eyebrow that's finally scabbing--the reason you haven't been to school in two days.\n\n\"No pain... is happiness.\"\n\nAnd in the middle of a dark night, in a dark room, with a dark stranger, this makes perfect sense. No pain is happiness. The other kids in your class always seem happy as they run around and play, but for you--just lacking pain would be enough. It would be so enough.\n\nThe next morning, when they come into your room to wake you up for school, your parents find your body lifeless in your bed, a pair of crimson-stained scissors by your arm, and two new gashes on your wrists.\n\nYour father blames himself. He can't take it.\n\nYour new friend alludes to a visit to him soon.", "Bits of broken bones, bloody battered body. Barely human. Barely recognizable. \n\n\n\nYet this peculiar creature, this human, she clung to that broken thing so very desperately, clutching onto the soul inside that peered woefully over her shoulder. \n\n\n\nIt was looking at me. Guilty, accusing eyes. \n\n\n\n\"I can't leave her.\" That broken, ugly thing spoke with such confidence. Like no one before had reasoned with Death. These humans were always the same. Greedy to a fault. They wanted more than they were given, ungrateful for the time they had already been extended. \n\n\n\"You can. You will.\" \n\n\nThat soul shook in its foundations, the broken bits and body parts falling away, releasing their captive. It clambered from the wreckage of its vessel, ethereal and free. Anger quickly overcame its initial amazement. \"She needs me.\" \n\n\n\"No. She will live without you. Just as you will die without her.\" \n\n\n\"I'm NOT dead! This isn't my time! Not yet!\" \n\n\n\"Then when?\" \n\n\nHesitation. \"Not now!\" Like a child. \n\n\n\"So tomorrow.\" \n\n\n\"N-No…\" \n\n\n\"Why?\" \n\n\n\"I need longer.\" \n\n\n\"For?\" \n\n\n\"Goodbyes.\" \n\n\n\"A day is long enough for goodbyes.\" \n\n\n\"But…\" \n\n\n\"You want more?\" \n\n\n\"I didn't… I mean… I never even saw the ocean. Never skydived. We were gonna get married.\" \n\n\n\"So after you're married, after you see the ocean, after you skydive… Then you'll be ready?\" \n\n\n\"I…\" Longingly. Looking back to its shell. \n\n\n\"Today is the day you die. There is no other time. You will not marry. You will not see the ocean. You will not skydive. But you have eaten sushi. You have seen the Grand Canyon. You have written a novel. You have done more than Annabelle.\" \n\n\n\"Who?\" \n\n\n\"The unborn child of Victor and Brianna. She dies after you. I go to collect her next.\" \n\n\n\"You're fucking sick.\" \n\n\n\"No. I just keep track of time. You should do better at it.\" ", "\"Gosh darnit, wake up man.\"\n\nI feel something sharp jab my arm and I sit up and turn on the light. The Grim Reaper has just butted my arm with the tip of his scythe.\n\n\"What are you doing here?\" I ask, blinking the sleep away.\n\n\"Finally awake huh? Hell be damned, I hate the night shift. People never wake up.\" He hovers at the side of the bed, tapping his foot impatiently and fixing his black cape so it didn't press so much against his neck. \"You're dying tonight.\"\n\n\"What? But... I have my rehearsal tomorrow for piano school.\"\n\n\"First of all, you suck at piano, so don't get your hopes up -\"\n\n\"You've been watching me?!\"\n\n\"Well, yeah duh. A Grim Reaper's gotta know when his next victim's gotta die or not.\"\n\n\"I don't think I'm that bad at -\"\n\n\"Okay stop talking. Don't you want to know why you're gonna die tonight? No 'ooooooh so scary, Mr. Reaper is here, Mr. Reaper why am I gonna die tonight?'?\"\n\n\"I think I know.\"\n\n\"Well give it a go, little man. I haven't got all night. Gotta go damn like a thousand more souls before my shift is over.\"\n\n\"Well everyone dies right? I'll probably have a heart attack or something.\"\n\n\"HAHAHA what? See this is the problem. People think they die because they have heart attacks or car accidents or whatever. The truth is that's what we stage it so that nobody finds out the true reasons.\"\n\n\"Well what's the true reason?\"\n\n\"Remember that day two weeks ago, when you were at the theme park?\"\n\n\"Uhh sure.\"\n\n\"Remember what you said to your little sister Mary when you were getting on the roller coaster?\"\n\n\"Yeah, I told her to not be scared because she'd go to heaven if she died.\"\n\n\"Satan didn't like that.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Don't 'what' me. You're dying tonight and that's final.\"\n\n\"I don't know what you're -\"\n\nEverything fades away and my world turns black. 'Well, I guess I'm dead,' is my last thought before I sink into the murky depths of nonexistence.", "Why now?\n\nQuite simply put, there was no other time. Death is an absolute eventuality, one from which no one escapes. The moment you come into this world, the clock is tick-tick-ticking away. Counting down to the end.\n\nThat said, it's not like I have a list. Nothing's set in stone. Your life was both a combination of good decisions and kind fate. Ultimately, it's up to you how you live your life. Was it time well spent?\n\nHonestly, I'm not sure \"why now.\" One moment you are, and the next you aren't. Does there even need to be a \"why\" to this? You're so concerned with what's already ended. The truth is, I don't know why, because I don't know what comes next.\n\nAnd that's why I'm here. I do not reap souls. I do not dole out death on a whim. I simply watch the clock, and come when it is time. I am a gatekeeper, here to tell you that this life has ended, and here to lead you to what comes next.\n\nNow put this mortal coil behind you, and come with me. Perpetuity awaits." ]	5
	[WP] Disney Characters in the Zombie Apocalypse	[ "Of all the places to end up, it had to be with them. I'd almost rather sink back to the bottom of the ocean and let those...creatures, get me. Yet here I am; stuck on this god forsaken ship with Eric and that tart of a child bride of his who can't seem to comprehend how to shut one's mouth.\n\n\"Ursula!\" Eric bellowed from the helm of the ship while motioning for Ariel to take control of the wheel.\n\n\"Yes Eric, how can I help you?\" I called back, the regal sarcasm not fully hidden from my voice.\n\nHe walked down the stairs to the deck where I had set up a small area for my possessions. Fortunately I had been able to snatch my cauldron, a few ingredients, and an assortment of tomes before I left my cave.\n\n“Have you found any answers yet? What are these creatures?” He asked.\n\n“I have not. It does not appear we are dealing with dark magic. This is something different, something entirely new.”\n \nIn all my years of using magic I had never seen nor heard of a spell that would bring life to the dead. Certainly though I had some for bringing death to the living; a thought that caused small smirk on my face.\n\n“Why are you smiling?” He asked confused.\n\n“No reason child.” The smirk faded, “As I was saying this is something new. Something the lands and seas have never seen before.”\n“Have you found a place that would be safe, somewhere we can start over?”\n\nI had been using my cauldron as a scrying pool trying to find a suitable place to go. Some place where the humans of the land and the mermaids of the sea never lived before. Some place where no one would have been changed.\n\n“I believe I have.” I answered, rather proud of myself. “There is an island west of here. It shouldn’t take more than three days to reach. It should have ample resources for food and water and even a lagoon for those of us who prefer the sea.”\n\n“And we’ll be safe there? She’ll be safe there?” He said as he looked up to the helm where Ariel was singing and dancing while holding the ships wheel. He put on a fake smile and gave a small wave to her, Ariel paused for a moment to wave back and then returned to singing and dancing. “She hasn’t been the same you know.” The fake smile melting away, “Not since she saw Triton change.”\n\nEmpathy was never one of my strong points so I simply crossed my tentacles and listened. I listened to how he and Ariel had barricaded themselves on his ship as his kingdom burned in chaos. How Triton’s kingdom became a cesspool for all manner of undead sea creatures. How Triton and his daughters fled for the waters surrounding Eric’s castle. How a severely injured Triton was the only survivor to make it to them. Finally, how upon death, Triton was reanimated and began lunging for Ariel and Eric like a common fish flops for air. Ariel watched as Eric managed to net and toss what was left of her father into the ocean before they decided nothing was left for them in the kingdom and set sail.\n\nAs he talked I looked up at Ariel. You could see in her eyes she was broken. For where there was once headstrong determination and optimism there was now emptiness. Ariel noticed my gaze and paused her singing and dancing to give me that same small wave she had given Eric. I raised my tentacle and flicked the tip at her. Eric seemed surprised. She happily went back to her duty of singing, dancing and holding the wheel.\n \n“Do you think she’ll snap back with time?” Eric asked me.\n“I cannot say for certain. For what plagues her has nothing to do with magic.” He looked defeated. “It may get better once we hit land.” I quickly said half-heartily trying to comfort him. “Just give her time; we should hit land before the sun sets on the third day.” I laughed realizing what I had just said.\n\nEric raised his eyebrow obviously puzzled by my laughter.\n\n“Oh, do not worry about it child.” I said waving a tentacle as if to dismiss the laughter. “I have simply uttered that phrase before.”\n\nThat was enough of an answer for Eric and he head back up the stairs to the helm where Ariel gladly let him take over. There she stood beside him singing and dancing but as empty as a shell.\n\nI went back to my cauldron and thought to myself “…before the sunsets on the third day” and all I could do was shake my head and laugh.", "Looking back, it probably should have been raining outside. Not “misting” or “sprinkling”, but full on deluge; tell-Noah-to-pull-that-last-animal-in-pouring. There should have been thunder and lightning. There should have been gale-force winds and terrified families huddled deep inside their homes: clutching to candles and praying that the storm passed without breaking or weakening any of our defenses, praying that the soulless, cannibalistic bodies of our neighbors couldn’t get past our walls to destroy what was left of humanity and civilization.\n\nInstead there was Maleficent standing in my doorway, wearing her usual cheery black cloak, and smiling in that way that usually meant trouble.\n\nIt was a frustratingly sunny day outside. Birds sang.\n\n“Sweet Aurora—“\n\nAlready I had to cut her off. “It’s Briar Rose now. You know that.” With a sigh I sat up straight and let my heavily booted feet drop from the pitted wood of the tabletop to the floor. A large map of my former kingdom and the surrounding lands was stretched out over the surface, covered in little flags and pins. The flags were black, yellow, or green, signifying areas that were completely lost to the plague, safe enough to loot for supplies, or places of known survivors. Most of the flags were black. Beside the map was a half-full cup of stale water, sitting just in front of my chipped short sword. I thought about how long it would take me to grab it. Could Maleficent move that fast? I couldn’t quite remember. It had been years since I had last seen the crazy old witch, but she looked as fresh and bright as if it had been just yesterday while I had a bad ankle and that spectacularly unique fatigue one could only get from being painfully awake and depressingly active for over twenty-four hours (and counting). In any case, it would take more than one old sword to stop Maleficent if she actually meant me harm. \n\n“Mmm.” The older woman swept gracefully into my dingy study and ran her finger over the dirty, uneven surface of my table. “I remember your foolish decision to fall upon the name those godmothers of yours gave you, of course. I was just hoping you were over this little peasant-phase and had realized the hopelessness of your situation. It’ll do no good in the long run. This land is lost, and you would do well to take me up on my generous offer before it is too late.”\n\nMy spine stiffened as rage cracked along my back, and my fingers twitched with the need to grip my sword. “Phase? No good? These are people, Maleficent! My people! And it’s my responsibility to do what I ca—“\n\n“Yes, of course. I didn’t come here to argue about your pitiful little crusade to save the last of your sad little kingdom from this plague. I came here for something…else.”\n\nWith a deep breath, I forced myself to relax and lean back against my seat. “Stop wasting my time, then. Just say it so you can leave.”\n\nWith a flourish Maleficent pulled a small envelope from a fold within her cloak and waved it at me. “I happen to have some information on a certain dashing young man that I’ve heard you have been searching for the better part of three years now. A…Phillip, I believe?”\n\nPhillip. The first and only time I had met him was burned so deeply in my mind that not even sleep could free me from him. It had been early on in the plague, back before we really knew what was happening or how far it had reached. I had been taking a shortcut through the forest to a small village in hopes of finding some information on the ill there when I heard a crack behind me followed by a clacking of what sounded like teeth. Having no idea what I was up against, I had called out. Three creatures stumbled out of the thick forest toward me, their teeth still clacking and arms stretched out. I remember that my first reaction was one of pity--these people were clearly hurting--but that quickly gave way to terror as one fell on my arm and tried to pull it into its mouth.\n\nAnd then..there he was. Broad-shouldered and square-jawed with thick, golden brown hair and warm brown eyes. He smiled, pulled his sword out of the woman's head, and grabbed my hand to lead me home. We spent two weeks together before he left to find survivors. That was three years ago. As far as anyone was concerned, he was dead.\n\nI never believed that, though. I couldn't, not with him dancing through my dreams every night and smiling at me every time I close my eyes. \"What do you want?\"\n\nMaleficent smiled.", "They thought I was the villain. They never thought about those I was trying to protect; they never thought about why I did the things that I did. All I saw was a tyrant who had kidnapped a princess... MY princess. Still, now that the world is crumbling around us, I know she will be back. She will run to me with open arms, confess her love and beg me to protect her. And I will. I can protect her; This time I will protect them all from those... those things. After all, no one shoots like Gaston" ]	3
I want to see someone's life deteriorate before my eyes, but without them knowing. Think "Requirem For A Dream"-esque.	[WP] Show me a downward spiral through Facebook statuses	[ "Joey, May 10 It happened today. I love all of you.\n\nJoey, May 4 We might just be home soon after all. The numbers are coming back up, and we're feeling optimistic. Today she spent half an hour telling me about our summer plans, and what we're going to do with all of our free time. Hannah's first thought: Pink's Hot Dogs in Los Angeles. \n\nJoey, May 1 Need recommendations on places to stay in California, Norway, and Switzerland. Seriously.\n\nJoey, April 25th Checked into the hospital again today. Could be here for a while. Please keep us in your thoughts tonight, it could be a long night.\n\nJoey, April 23 Dr. Hope says there's no way to know that the treatment is working, but the signs are looking good. The last word you want to hear about a treatment is \"experimental.\" Give me \"tested,\" or \"proven to work,\" or even \"out-patient\" any day of the week.\n\nJoey, April 20 Hannah's feeling better today. We're celebrating with breakfast in bed!\n\nHannah, April 20 [Photo of breakfast tray] Joey made me bacon, waffles, and orange juice in bed! I am so lucky for my husband!\n\nJoey, April 2 To our friends and family, please give Hannah a call today if you can. I know she would appreciate it.\n\nJoey, April 1 Today we postponed the honeymoon. Hannah wants to know what you guys think: should we go to California or Europe when we're healthy again?\n\nJoey, March 29 Hannah's oncologist Dr. Hope said it's official today. Hannah was in remission for five years. I know you were all there for her the first time through. Now we have to go through it together. Please keep Hannah in your thoughts and prayers.\n\nJoey, March 5 [Photo of Joey and Hannah at the beach in a silver picture frame] ]If you haven't received a Thank You card, call me! Which of you gave us this beautiful sterling picture frame but it didn't have a tag, and it wasn't on our registry. Let me know so I can send you a card!\n\nJoey, December 28 [photo of Joey and Hannah at the beach] Thank all of you who were able to be at our celebration today! --Joey and Hannah Grace, Just Married!\n\n", "Sandy Brown\n1 minute ago\n> don't listen to a word they say about me the government are in on it too so are my family peace and love beyond all recognition oh god why are they doing this to me i only wanted to shut up shut up shut up they're coming now and it's all too late too soon oh fuck oh god\n\n\nSandy Brown\nMay 1\n> They're coming. Not yet, but soon. Know that I loved you all, and I'm sorry it couldn't last.\n\n>>Louise Grant May 1\n\n>> Where are you, sweetie?\n\n>>3 people like this\n\n>> Al Carpenter May 1\n\n>> Sandy?\n\n>>Sandy Brown May 2\n\n>>I'm safe for now.\n\nSandy Brown\nApril 29\n>Feeling shitty again. Why aren't these meds working. Lying doctors.\n\n>>Al Carpenter April 29\n\n>>I'm sure it'll get better.\n\n>>Louise Grant April 29\n\n>>Seconding Al. Call me if you want to talk.\n\n>>Georgie Ratledge April 29\n\n>> Trying to call you. Have you got your phone?\n\n>>Louise Grant April 30\n\n>>Sweetie, are you okay? Answer your phone, please.\n\n\nSandy Brown\nApril 25\n>Had a great day out with Al Carpenter today! Spring has sprung!\n\n>8 people like this\n>>Al Carpenter April 25\n\n>>Thanks, Sandy, I had a great day, too. Those geese sure were something, weren't they?\n\n>>Sandy Brown April 25\n\n>>Absolutely!\n\n\nSandy Brown\nApril 24\n> I feel on top of the world! doc says I'm doing great!\n\n>15 people like this\n>>Louise Grant April 23\n\n>>That's great, sweetie! Really glad to hear that things are looking up for you!\n\n>>Sandy Brown April 24\n\n>>Right? These meds are a godsend, seriously.\n\n>>Al Carpenter April 24\n\n>>If you're feeling up to it, do you want to hang out?\n\n>>Sandy Brown April 24\n\n>>Sure! I'll call you!\n\n\nSandy Brown\nMarch 14\n>Thanks for all the messages whilst I was in hospital, guys. It really meant a lot to me.\n\n>24 people like this\n\n>>Georgie Ratledge March 14\n\n>> Glad to hear you're back in the land of the living! Please don't scare us like that again.\n\n\n>>19 people like this\n\n>>Sandy Brown March 14\n\n>>Don't worry, I'm not planning on it!\n\n>>21 people like this\n\nSandy Brown\nMarch 2\n>This is Sandy's mother checking in. Thank you for all your support in this difficult time. She's making a good recovery, both physically and mentally, but visitors aren't recommended yet. I've been passing on your messages, and she really appreciates them.\n\n>22 people like this\n\nSandy Brown\nJanuary 24\n>I can't take it. I love you all, but I just keep on fucking it up. I'm so so so so sorry.\n\n>>Louise Grant January 24\n\n>>Sandy? What's wrong, sweetie?\n\n>>Al Carpenter January 24\n\n>>If this has anything to do with what I said, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. You're great.\n\n>>Georgie Ratledge January 24\n\n>>We all care about you, Sandy. Please pick up.\n\n>>Jay Jones January 24\n\n>>Seriously dude, I've been there. It's hard. If you want to hang out and talk about it, call me back.\n\n>>Al Carpenter January 25\n\n>>Has anyone heard from Sandy yet? Her phone's off and she's not answering at home.\n\n>>Louise Grant January 26\n\n>>Still looking for Sandy. If anyone's seen her, or knows where she might be, please say.\n\n>>Al Carpenter January 27\n\n>>Sandy? Please?\n\n>>Al Carpenter January 28\n\n>>She's been found, thanks to everyone for looking. She's in a bad way, but the important thing is she's alive, and getting treatment.\n\nSandy Brown\nJanuary 15\n\n>Getting my life in order, finally! Beating this disease like a baker beating dough!\n\n>43 people like this" ]	2
	[WP] You're possessed by an evil spirit and gradually losing control over your mind and body as the spirit gains strength. The twist? You're on the altar at your wedding.	[ "“Not now, Altaire. Any time but now.”\n\n\n“Bro, I’m saving your ass. You’re 21, You’re too young.”\n\n\n\n“Altaire, I fucking love her, Not now.”\n\n\n“Shut the fuck up, I got you bro.”\n\n\nThe priest smiles. “Are there any objections to this marriage?”\n\n\n“YES. RIGHT HERE, MOTHERFUCKIN’ HERE.”\n\n\nThe crowd is bewildered in complete shock. \n\n\n“I’m not ready to get married. I’m Twenty one, I should be in college. Besides, you’re a complete bitch. You complain all day about how I never buy you anything, yet you tweet about it on your IPhone 5s. You say I don’t love you, yet I wrote to you in the Army every single day, and you responded only three times. I saw the footage of the neighbor coming into the house for 45 minutes the week after I was deployed. You don’t have a job, And I have to use all of my saved funds in my bank account, WHICH I WAS GOING TO USE FOR COLLEGE, to send you to the Bahamas with your family. You constantly tell your friends I’m abusive yet I never yelled at you once. You drink and party all day, and when my nephew came over you nearly got him killed, but we disregarded it. You get high all the time, and make the house smell like shit. I have been living In hell, LITTERALLY, for months. I have a flip phone, A laptop given to me by my sister, hand me down clothing, a small car, Mean while I baught you a Audi, Michael Kores, An Iphone, A motherfucking diamond ring, hell, you even stole from me for drugs. I hate you and I envy anyone who ever even hugs you. Good fuckin’ night, BIIIIIIIITCH.”\n\n\nAnd, At that moment, Cole walked out.\n\n\nAltair smiled. “Man, I didn’t know you had it in you.”\n\n\n“What are you talking about? You possessed me.”\n\n\n“Nah bruh, I didn’t even say a word. Aaaallll you. I’m kinda proud of you, man.”\n\n\n“….Oh my god, I’m an asshole. She’s going to be so upse-“\n\n\nThe church doors bang open, And her ex-husband barges out.\n\n\n“YOU THINK YOU CAN TALK LIKE THAT TO HER? HUH? YOU THINK YOU’RE ALL THAT STRON-“\n\n\nA punch to the jaw later, He is on the ground like a groundhog in march.\n\n\n“That might have been me, sorry.”\n\n\n“You know what Altaire? It’s fuckin’ all right.”\n\n\n“You gonna take her car? I mean, It is in your name.”\n\n\n“Fuck yea I am. Everything I bought her is in my name. I’m taking it and going to college.”\n\n\nCole then saw someone else leave the church. Alice, The girl he was friends with in high school. She used \n\nto be a bit overweight, and she was a red head. She lost a lot of weight after she heard of Cole enlisting.\n\n\n“Cole, I’m sorry about what happened. What made you change your mind?”\n\n\n“Well, I guess that having all that bullshit made me go crazy.”\n\n\nJust as everyone was leaving the church, Cole grabbed Alice, And kissed her. Right in front of his kinda-ex-wife. Alice smiled. \n“Altaire, you badass mother fucker.”\n“Nah man, It’s all you.”\nAnd with that, Cole and Alice went into the Audi, and drove home.\n", "I lifted the veil, and saw that familiar face.\n\nI've gazed upon it countless times, but looking at it now feels more compelling than ever. The edges of her lips curled up as her gray eyes met with my own. I brushed my fingers through her fiery hair, which tickled me like strands of silk.\n\nMemories of the salty ocean breeze flash by my mind. It was a sunny day at the beach. The day I first met her by the rocky cliff. She read ancient books under the shade of a towering boulder, and I couldn't resist asking her why.\n\nSo beautiful.\n\nSo appetizing.\n\nWait, what? Appetizing?\n\nOh yes. All that raw and undiluted affection she has for you, for us. Destroying it will be ever so tasty. I wonder how I should do it...\n\nNo, why am I thinking this. It's wrong, why-\n\nThere's no need to question why. It's all about the how. I should do it gradually, savor this meal. How long can I make it last? Three decades, maybe four, I'll be sure she never stops loving us. She'll blame herself until the very end, perhaps she'll even be the one to end our life. That would be a perfect dessert.\n\nWhat is this... get out of my head!\n\nQuiet, sleep, just watch it unfold. Enjoy the kisses, the touches, the pleasure, and see how it poisons her. She'll be bitter, but her hopes will chain her down.\n\nNeed to move, get out, stop this.\n\nAh, but time has run dry, oh yes. \"I do.\"\n\n\"Then you may kiss the bride.\"\n\nAppetizing.", "There is only the despair of hope in this place.\n\nShe was an angel, an airy goddess floating over the earth, bathed in some ethereal white and impossibly drawn to him. \n\nNow listen to her lie.\n\n\"Today is...mostly an ordinary day. The sun rose, traffic was bad, people slept in, people had babies, and we just so happened to be getting married.\"\n\nMan in Abidjan was necklaced. Know what that is, Tom? Fill tires with gas and force them over you and set them ablaze. Crowd around and chant and scream and beat you with sticks and rocks while you burn. Screamed for an hour.\n\n\"But the extraordinary part is how we are making promises to each other for the rest of our days, no matter how ordinary or unusual they may be.\"\n\nDid you know she stole this from the internet? How many abortions do you think are being performed this very second? Those tits look full of milk and honey, don't they?\n\n\"So I promise to always laugh with you and never to go to bed angry.\"\n\nLie.\n\n\"To comfort you in times of sorrow and to always listen to what you have to say, even when we don't see eye to eye.\"\n\nLie.\n\n\"I promise to remember that love is I feel differently and not you're wrong, and that our future together is far more important than our individual pasts.\"\n\nMaybe the biggest lie.\n\n\"But most of all, I promise to love you, under any circumstances; happy or sad, easy or difficult, through the sunshine and through the rain for the rest of my days. I am the luckiest girl alive and I couldn't imagine growing old with anyone else.\"\n\nOh, no, now there it is. Did you know she was fucking her high school sweetheart for a couple of weeks after you met her? All that formality, all the ritualistic courtship, all the little nods and inflections and that subtle little bat of the eyes you were waiting for, and some other man's shame exploring those insides all the while. What was his name?\n\n\"Stop it,\" he said, maybe whispered, maybe thought. \n\nWhat's that? Couldn't quite hear you. A twelve-year-old boy is losing all the fingers on his right hand in Haiti right now. They do it right in the streets. You just put your hand on the concrete and chop chop chop, little cutlets. His name was Matt, wasn't it?\n\n\"Fucking STOAAAH-\" It was all he could manage before his spine became a lightning rod, blazing, burning, bringing him to his knees upon the altar. She cried out, backed away, stumbled over the hem of her dress and he saw a man reach out and catch her. There were gasps, sighs, someone calling his name from behind him before his left hand shot into the air of its own accord, fingers reaching reaching reaching above his head. Every muscle in his body screamed, every bone creaked, and then his hand was wrenched back down to earth, behind him, up between his shoulders until his wrist met the back of his neck. There was a sound, something like a pine knot exploding in a fire, and his fingers explored the back of his scalp like the legs of some giant insect. \n\nHe was on his feet again.\n\n\"Please don't do th - I AM THE INFERNAL CUNT AM THE BARREN WOMB AM THE CRADLE OF WOE UPON WHICH YOUR LIES BLOSSOM INTO DAMNATION. ABANDON THIS PLACE AS YOUR HOPE HAS ABANDONED YOU.\"\n\nHe could hear his voice among the many. He could hear the screams of the congregation, the shuffling and scraping of their shoes upon the floorboards, the charging and trampling away from him. She was gone now, snatched up by the chaos. Even the priest was among them as they fled.\n\nWe'll find her, Tom, don't worry. She's coming with us, and when we get there she'll birth abominations in filth and they will scuttle and spit and eat your tongue out of your head in the void.\n\nHis head collided with the base of the altar, rose, met fiercely with it again and again and again until all of it was tinted with a murky red. \n\nDoes your faith fill you up and protect you now, Tom? Do you understand the power to be harvested and reaped from pain, over and over and over and over again? Do you see the blind eyes of your savior washing over you even now, unblinking, uncaring? And can you feel what must be done?\n\nHe did." ]	3
You are a single mother/father fighting daily to survive and support your child. Your kid is too young to survive on his/her own. You recognize early signs that you have been infected. You can't recall being bitten or scratched but somehow you've been infected and it is unexpected. You're becoming a zombie. How long it takes to turn and lose your humanity is up to you (as the writer, not as the soon-to-be zombie). What to you think? How do you feel? What do you do?	[WP] Set in a zombie apocalypse, struggling to save yourself and your young child, you realize you're turning.	[ "\n\nCrash went the front window as the hatchet collided with it. With the scattering of glass shards against the ground, two things happened. A loud klaxxon of an alarm began to sound throughout the clinic and the baby started crying. Stroking a hand against her head, Kim tried to hush the baby's cries as she entered the building. It seemed empty, but they always do.\n\nThe baby continued to wail at the top of her lungs, despite her mother's persistence. The woman adjusted the harness keeping her baby to her back and readied her hatchet. A door was swung open. The clinic's office room was empty, save a large puddle of blood on the floor and signs of a struggle. The next room, a hallway, was also empty. \n\nMaking her way to the back of the clinic, the woman stepped over a knocked-over file cabinet and stumbled through a door on her left. Leaning up against the wall was a man, roughly in his late fifties, one with blood gathered around his bearded mouth and up his hands. The half-eaten corpse of a patient lay against the floor, his face and skull nearly picked clean.\n\nThe doctor reached out for Kim, bloody tears streaming down his face. \"I'm so sorry. I've got to eat. Please, I need.. I need to eat. I-\" Kim closed the distance, striking the man in the temple with her hatchet. The blade dug into flesh and into bone like butter, spewing bright viscera onto the floor. The doctor gasped and dropped to the floor in a dead weight. \n\nThe baby continued to cry.\n", "\"Mommy, why are you shivering?\"\n\nI really should have seen this coming. I knew the moment my husband died that it would be all down hill from there. He told me, begged me--to take care of our son. I've never been a good mother and the world turning to shit certainly didn't help. \n\n\"Oh, don't worry sweet heart. Mommy is just a little cold. We'll find somewhere to rest in a little bit and mommy will be okay,\" I'm lying through my clenched teeth, lying to little Sammie like I always do. My real hope is that I find some goddamn people soon. I'm already feeling delirious. Everything is so foggy, so hazy. My mouth feels like cotton and my head feels like it's splitting open. \n\nBut I have to keep moving forward for Sammie. \n\nHe is wrapped up in my arms and I can hear the blood pounding through his veins. I don't remember having such great hearing, but with every swish my mouth waters just the slightest bit. His dark hair hides his face from me as he nuzzles into my fevered warmth. He thinks he's safe. He thinks that mommy will take care of everything. \n\nBut Sammie, mommy can't. Mommy can't do anything--not anymore. He's too small to understand. Four and a half years old just isn't long enough to understand. It's just not enough. \n\n\"Mommy, I miss daddy...\" My heart clenches. I miss daddy too. I miss him because I know that he would have never found himself in this situation. He would have never found himself turning into one of those...those things. Jesus Christ, what I wouldn't do to see Dennis again. Fuck those assholes at the gas station. They didn't have to shoot him; they didn't have to kill him. \n\nI hope they've been eaten alive by now. \n\nWhat is that in the distance? It looks like a group of people. Oh god, it is. Maybe they can help us. Maybe they can---\"HEY! You! Stop right there!\" \n\nI slow my pace to a stop, Sammie looks up with wide, curious eyes. I feel him trembling in my arms, my teeth grind as I try to hold back groans of pain. All I have is the urge to drop Sammie and lunge at these people. \n\n\"Hello! Please don't shoot. Please. Please. I am just with my son. He's only four!\" I shout out to them, I see some guns lower and my son huffs, \"Mommy, I'm four and a half!\" I do not respond to him, but keep my eyes on the people. \n\nA woman approaches, \"What are you two doing out here alone? Don't you know it's best to stick in groups?\" She is cautious, suspicious...and who can really blame her? I probably look crazed right about now. \"I was with my husband...he was murdered.\" Her face seems to soften, but she's still guarded. She looks me over and takes a sudden step back, \"You're turning!\" she accuses and I drop to my knees under the weight of her words. \n\n\"You have to help me!\" I beg, clutching my son to myself. She's already pulling out her gun again, pushing it against my head. \"You're turning and you weren't going to tell us!\" I shake my head no, and begin to explain. \n\n\"Please. I just...I just needed to find people. I can't--my son...and I can't...\" I'm sobbing now, I'm losing coherency, as if the disease was waiting for me to find someone before it started to take over. I begin to shake, my vision blurring along with my thoughts. I let go of my son and shove him towards the woman, \"MOMMY!\" he yells out in surprise as he grabs the pants of the woman to keep steady. She catches him by the collar of his shirt, steadying him once again. \n\n\"Please, please. Take him. Take care of him. He's all I have...he's all I did right. Shoot me and take him...\" I'm bowing to her now, curled in a pitiful ball as I stare at the ground---watching in morbid fascination as tears become blood. I'm turning much faster than I thought. \n\n\"Mommy! Mommy get up, please get up!\" He comes closer to me and I scream at him to stay away from me, and the woman pulls him fearfully back. \"JUST SHOOT HER JOAN! JUST SHOOT HER!\" a voice screams out in the distance.\n\nThe woman, Joan, raises her gun once more and I look up to Sammie. His eyes are wide, tears covering his face...he's old enough to understand this. He's old enough to know what is going on. Four and half years old is long enough to know when your mother is going to die. It is enough. \n\n\"I'm sorry Sammie.\"\n\"I love you mommy.\"\n\nAnd I don't say anything, because coughing has taken over--and I clench my teeth even harder, feeling them crack under the pressure.\n\nSuddenly, I hear a bang and everything is okay. Sammie is okay.\n" ]	2
	[WP] A man fighting to keep control of himself after realizing he is becoming the worlds first zombie.	[ "I should eat.\n\nNo, I shouldn't. I'm not hungry.\n\nI should go outside. Why am I so hot? Maybe I have the flu. Meningitis? I'm not dizzy. I'm sore all over, though. Fresh air would help. I'll go outside.\n\nActually, I'm still hungry. I'll eat first.\n\nNot hungry. Too hot. Need air. Water? Water.\n\nMy throat hurts. Burning. Water doesn't help. I should go outside.\n\nWhere is everybody? It's a nice day. There must be people around. I want to be around people.\n\nToo hot. Don't feel like walking. It's a nice day. Where are all the people? I'll just keep walking.\n\nI'm hungry.", "\"In a recap of the top news today, the man in Central Square arrested by police after a prolonged struggle has been identified as Geoffrey Greenman, a Parkside resident. \n\nMr Greenman was arrested after behaving erratically in the Central Shopping Plaza, with reports that he stole an elderly woman's walking cane and repeatedly struck himself in the mouth. Police moved in after a tense stand off with Mr Greenman who, still armed with the walking cane, threatened police and bystanders saying he would \"kill them all and all would end\" which was recorded by a witness' smart phone.\n\n He has been remanded in custody pending formal charges with police stating \"Given the possible mental health issues at play it is prudent at this time to make sure Mr Greenman is given proper representation when charges are laid\".\n\nIn other news, a teenager from Parkview has been reported missing today after it was discovered that Robert Francis had not returned home from school. Friends of the boy say he had walked home through Parkview. Police have said they are doing the best they can to find the missing student and that if anyone has any information of Robert's whereabouts they should contact Crime Stoppers on 1800 333 000\".", " I could feel it eating at me, something was so very, very wrong. I went to the doctor to get a routine check up, everything was normal. I went home and got in my old truck and just drove, I started to space out, remembering all of the happier times, out with my daughter, eating with my wife. \n A loud honk shot me back into consciousness, I looked at my gas gauge almost empty. I drove my happy ass to the nearest station and filled up my tank. There was a young woman about 600 feet under the streetlight just before the city limits sign. I got in my truck and asked if she needed a ride. \n \"Yeah, I'm just trying to get a ride to Pasadena, you know where that is... Right?\" \n Thinking back to when I last saw a map, \"No, sorry.\" \n \"That's okay,\" she said with a smile. \"My name's Terry, what about you?\" \n \"What about me?\" I said gruffly. \n \"You got a name, or... something I could call you?\" \n I didn't know this chick and she could try to kill me so I just said, \"Call me Bob, so where is this... Pasadena?\" \n \"California. I'm trying to get away from my folks and if I can get to California and see one of the beaches there, I'd be set.\" \n \"California, that's at least 4 states away!\" \n I started to cough I turned my head to the driver's side window and noticed little flecks of blood splattering on the window, my eyes got wide, and I stared in disbelief. \n \"Uhm, Terry. You should get out of here,\" I said with panic in my voice. \"I don't know if I'm contagious or not.\" \n \"What?\" she said looking t me with a worried smile. \"Could you at least take me to the nearest motel so I can get some sleep on an actual bed?\" \n \"Sure.\" \n We drove for what seemed like an hour, it must've been only ten minutes. I started to cough more and more, blood coming out of my lungs each time. \n \"You sure you're okay?\" \n \"Terry, I told you back at that sign that you shouldn't have come with me. you made this decision.\" \n \"Do you want me to get out?\" \n \"No, if you get hurt that'll be on my conscience for the rest of my life, however long or short that may be.\" \n \"Okay then. Could we turn on the radio?\" \n \"Sure.\" \n Terry turned on the radio and I kept driving, I started to cough really bad and had to pull over. Blood was pouring out of my mouth at this point. \n \"Holy shit, we need to get you to a hospital!\" \n There was no point in resisting, I gave in and tore into her wrist, fuck... I really shouldn't have done that. ", "Sonofabitch.\n\nGet it together, Lyle.\n\nHands splay across a tabletop covered in blood. My blood. Some of it dripping from the patches of skin that are coming off my cheeks. Some of it dripping from my mouth as I cough again and again, pain rocketing through my body every time. I stare at my fingers. My fingernails have started to come off.\n\nI can feel it eating at me. It's not supposed to be like this. I cough and a chunk of something the size of a quarter hits the stained wood. I am coughing up my insides.\n\nI am dying.\n\nI should have known better than to trust that fucker. The second he got into my car, smelling of rot and death so strongly I nearly hurled, I should have shoved him back out and driven away, but I let him stay. I let him touch me. Let him bite me with his black lips and yellowed teeth. Something about him drew me in and I still don't know what. It was probably the eyes. Yellow-gold, their pupils slitted like a cat's. Creepy as hell now. But something about them that night made me lean in.\n\nThat's what got me here. I started to consider zombies a few days ago when the first bouts of hunger came. When I woke from a dream to find myself kneeling in front of the refrigerator, mouth and hands full of raw steak, chin dripping with juices. When I scratched a blackened spot on my face and the skin peeled off into my hands. But zombies should only be in movies, books. The dead don't rise. Living men like Lyle Hannigan don't turn.\n\nThe fact that four of my teeth just fell out of my head would seem to suggest otherwise.\n\nI stood in front of the mirror that first night, staring at what I thought was a hickey. The next morning, as I pulled my t-shirt off, I nearly collapsed. Black had started to spread through the veins around the mark. Poison, his poison, was running through my body. The whites of my eyes turned yellow that night.\n\nMy stomach churns. I'm starving. I've been starving for days now but nothing I have in my fridge satiates the hunger. Everything I eat comes back up with blood and bile and pain, so much pain. Today, Sarah's name popped up on my phone, and all I could think of was sinking my teeth into her skin. All I could think about was eating my sister.\n\nSonofabitch.\n\nI dig what's left of my nails into the table, let out a groan. My arms are covered in black spots of rot. All of me is covered. The parts of my skin that haven't started to rot are white, drained of color. I stagger back from the table, clutch my pounding head in hands that shake.\n\nGet it together, Lyle.\n\nI'm starving.\n\nThere is a knock at the door. A voice, a familiar voice, makes me go still. \"Lyle?\" Sarah calls; she sounds worried. I swallow and I feel like I'm going to hurl again. Please no. Please please please no. \"Lyle, you've been ignoring my calls.\"\n\n\"You need to leave, Sarah.\" My tongue is thick, swollen. My voice comes out strangled through a mouthful of blood and mucus. I spit on the table. It's already coated anyway.\n\n\"Lyle, what's going on?\"\n\n\"Please leave.\" I can't breathe. I don't know if I've breathed for days.\n\n\"I'm coming in.\" The lock clicks; the doorknob turns. Fuck, she's got a spare key. How could I forget that she has a spare key? The door swings open.\n\nOh, God, but the look on her face. Her eyes widen; her hands leap to cover her mouth as the color drains from her cheeks. A purse clatters to the floor and so does the key in her fingers. She lets out a sound caught somewhere between a gasp and a sob.\n\nNo. No, not her. Please not her.\n\nShe is all blood and flesh and heat and I want her. Need her.\n\nI can't stop myself anymore.\n\nSarah tastes amazing.", "\"Jesus Christ!\" John blasphemed. He'd managed to drag himself into the shower, but just barely. Hadn't even bothered to undress. The cool water blasting him in the face helped him to stay conscious, but did little for the feeling of hot knives being jammed into his gut. What the hell was going on? Sure, he'd been feeling a little under the weather. Had even taken a sick day, which he'd always hated doing. Now he was glad he had. This was not something you worked through to show your boss how dedicated you were. There was probably a fancy Latin name for whatever this was. This had to be some disease that ninety nine percent of doctors would go their entire careers without seeing. \n\nThe strangest thing was that despite the mind numbing, ear splitting, earth shattering pain John felt, he was hungry. And not \"Oh, I'll just have a salad\" hungry. John needed meat. A big thick juicy steak. No, screw the steak, just bring him the whole damn cow. Yes, give him Bessie and a bottle of barbecue sauce and he'd never believe it wasn't Christmas morning. The pain in his stomach drew back a little, seeming to encourage this current train of thought.\n\nA faint scratching from outside the bathroom snapped John out of his bovine daydreams. Dammit, he still needed to feed the dog. Yes. The dog. Lucky, the spoiled dog that ate better than most humans and had the extra poundage to show for it. Oh god, was his mouth watering? Was he really salivating at the thought of the goddamn family dog? Yes. He was. Was that really so bad? In the end meat is meat, right? Whatever animal it came from. \n\nNo. No. NO. He could not eat Lucky. His girls would be heartbroken. His girls... NO! Don't even fucking think about it. What the fuck is wrong with you, asshole? They'd be back from school with their mom soon. If she ever found out what had just crossed his mind she'd kill him. Hell, he'd let her- a new intense wave of pain crashed over him. John desperately grabbed onto the shower curtains and dragged them down with him as he spilled to the bathroom floor. \n\nIf that little tumble didn't convince him, nothing would. Nobody wants to be the guy who calls 9-1-1 for a tummy ache, but John no longer cared. The closest phone was across the hall in his office. It wouldn't be easy, but the alternative was laying there on the floor in agony until his wife came home and found him, and who knew how long that would take. No, he had to try. \n\nOn his hands and knees John crawled to the bathroom door. As soon as he managed to push it open Lucky rushed in to check on him. She was a smart dog, very loving and always so gentle with the girls. All the noise he'd been making had obviously upset her. She sniffed at him and licked at his face, trying to get a sense for what was wrong. John however, took no notice. He was doomed. He knew it from the moment he smelled her. She smelled better than any steak he'd ever had. So... Juicy. The pain he'd felt so intensely just a moment ago subsided, giving him permission to do what he knew needed to be done. He'd wrestled with Lucky before so when he pinned the dog down she probably thought they were just playing a game. In the horror of what happened next John failed to hear the garage door opening downstairs...\n", "Monday morning passed like any other. Adam groggily groped around the buttons on top of his alarm clock, whose exaggerated letters blared 6:45. He dragged himself to the shower before stripping off his socks and underwear and stepping in. \n\nThe cold water immediately stung his leg. Looking down, he noticed a short gash on the inside of his thigh. It was bleeding and blistering red, almost malevolent.\n\n\"Son of a bitch...\" Adam trailed off. His eyes swam a moment as he recollected himself. He stepped out of the shower, almost tripped, and dried himself off. He drunkenly stumbled to the medicine cabinet, and quickly applied some disinfectant and gauze. He could not recall getting the wound, though he was affected with bouts of sleepwalking. Adam quickly dismissed his leg as an accident.\n\nThat day, Adam found himself drifting off constantly. He lacked the focus to even read a paragraph in one go. His boss grew concerned and ordered him to take the day off. Relieved, Adam obliged.\n\nOn Tuesday, Adam woke up to find himself at the front door of his house, unable to open it. He noticed the scratch marks on the door before he felt the blood flowing from his nails. He decided he would call to make an appointment with his doctor. Perhaps pharmaceuticals held the solution to these new episodes. Adam walked over to his phone and picked it up. His vision again blurred, and this time he fell on his back.\n\nAdam lied helplessly for a few moments before gathering himself enough to stand. He tried to remember what he was doing with the phone before he noticed the time. He had to go to work. He had bills to pay. Adam shook himself off, went through his morning routine, and got on the road.\n\nDespite his commute being a mere mile, Adam lost his bearings after he left his driveway. The now familiar dizziness struck again and Adam careened off the road, stopping only by the strength of an ancient apple tree, which was toppled by the force of the car. Adam blacked out.\n\nWhen he came to, he felt the needle in his arm and squinted against the blinding whiteness of the hospital ceiling. An inexplicable panic overcame him. His suddenly animal instinct compelled him to escape. Yanking the tubes from his body, Adam strained against the bed, rising catatonically.\n\nA nurse had just walked in and noticed Adam. \"My God...doctor! Doctor!\" She ran away screaming.\n\nAdam groaned. He realized that his legs were broken and splintering through the casts, though oddly enough he could not feel them. His clarity was once again overcome with the primal panic to escape.\n\nNow shambling, Adam reached the hallway. The nurse and doctor were running toward him.\n\n\"Adam! Adam! Stop! You're killing yourself!\" The doctor ran within an arms length. \"You need to stop, you have to lie down, you...\" Adam grabbed him with one hand and a pain shot through his arm. The doctor was caught off guard and fell into Adam. Without a thought, Adam bit into the doctor's exposed neck and tore his flesh.\n\nA security guard then came from behind Adam and subdued him, took him back to his bed, and secured him there. In all the excitement, the guard had disregarded the scratch he obtained from Adam's nails.\n\nThat night, Adam died in the hospital bed. His curse, however, was now free to spread...\n\n", "I am dying, and I know it.\n\nI can feel my synapses flaring like the tip of an arc welder, as the fire spreads through my brain. In my head, it’s three-thousand-one-hundred degrees, and rising - and the world as I know it is being bleached crimson by an unrelenting red tide. My vision swims and burns as the sweat pours down my forehead and into my eyes. I feel my sodden shirt sticking to my skin, and paw and tear at it to try and ease the burning. A lance of pain shoots through me and my hands rise, gripping the sides of my head in agony - I try to claw the fire out of me.\n\nWhat kind of hell is this? \n\nI sink to my knees in the crowded tube station, the gaggle of morning commuters pressing in at me from every side like a herd of cattle being driven onward to the slaughterhouse. No one even notices. I try to scream, but just end up choking on my own bile, retching, as the claustrophobia sets in. I am a prisoner here, my own private cell, alone in a sea of faceless, nameless cunts.\n\nCradling my head in my hands, I try to muster up the energy to fight back - to stand, grab the nearest person and shake some sense into them. Show them my pain, my fear, make them understand. Make them see. But I can’t. All I can do is hold my head together, to try and stop the fire from tearing me open. I try to scream again, but only a low moan escapes my lips. A rasp. A death rattle.\n\nI am dying. And I know it.\n\nSoothing shards of ice begin to slide into my mind, numbing the pain and dousing the fire. Sweet release. Nothing to fear anymore, now that the ice has come. The beautiful, dulling cold slipping through the pain like a straight razor.\n\nBut somewhere, in the dark recesses of my mind, something stirs amid the cold. Something old, something forceful. It sings to me in dulcet tones, sweet songs of hope and joy, of open meadows and lazy days lying amid fields of yellowed buttercups. Freedom, it whispers. Comfort.\n\nIt lies.\n\nSweet songs. Too sweet - too sweet by far. The words of comfort and love are stripped away, and the voice that sings beneath them is much sweeter.\n\nHe sings of the sweetness of flesh - he sings of the white hot joy of carnage. He sings in tones that lay bare the primordial soul of man and drag from it, raw and writhing, the truths that haunt us while we sleep. His words are a palette, and my mind is a canvas, and he sings into me works of such monstrous beauty. Such vile and terrible abandon.\n\nI am his puppet. With his mighty hands he pulls my strings, and I dance at his whim. He guides me to glory, to ascension, through flesh. Through terror, I shall honour him. Through blood, I shall mark his way.\n\nThrough flesh, all men will become one.", "\"Mr. Jenkins, you suffer from a particularly rare form of hyponchondira.\"\n\n\"No-no!\" Jeff objected. \"I'm becoming a zombie I'm sure of it!\"\n\nThe doctor put his face in his palms, he should have been out on his lunch break 10 minutes ago.\n\n\"Your blood tests came back fine, your body is in fine shape. All I can suggest is thaat you cut down on your meat intake nd have more vegatables. I assure you, you are not turning into a zombie!\"\n\n\"Of course I am!\" Jeff yelled, getting to his feet in a frantic panic. \n\n\"I can't function! All I can do is wander aimlessly all day long, when ever I go out I have no purpose or direction! I crave only meat and am sickened by the thought of anything else! And my skin is beginning to flake and fall of! I am becoming a zombie!\"\n\nThe doctor got to his feet. \"Mr Jenkins!\" He bellowed, \"Your skin is flaking because you have dandruff, I can give you the number of a dermatoligist! You crave meat because you are a carnivor and you feel like you have no direction because you are depressed! Maybe you should consider seeing a therapist! Now if you please..\"\n\nThe doctor made his way past Jeff and opened the door, beckoning him to leave. \n\n\"But, but I find myself starring ahead aimlessly for hours on end, I don't speak or think or move-\"\n\n\"Are you watching T.V. Mr. Jenkins?\"\n\n\"Um....\"\n\nThe doctor pointed out the door. Jeff became desperate.\n\n\"If you shoot me in the brain I'll die!\"\n\n\"Mr. Jenkins....\"\n\nThe Doctor stamped on the ground and pointed again. Jeff slumped out the door defeated. The doctor slammed it behind him, swore loudly and made his way back to his desk. Finally, he could have his lunch.\n\nThen there was a knock on the door. The Doctor cursed and made his way over.\n\n\"Mr Jenkins please!\"\n\nHe opened it to find Jeff Jenkins standing there. But he was different. His skin was tinted green, his arms oustretched and his eyes were fully white with no pupils.\n\n\"BRAINS!\" he yelled, diving forward and sinking his teeth into the bewildered doctors neck." ]	8
	[WP] Mother just came home, but she's been dead for 10 years.	[ "\"Daddy....\"\n\nTom switched on his bedside lamp \"yes sweetie?\"\n\n\"I...I think I saw grandma\"\n\nTom snickered at the thought of his mother in law actually coming to visit her daughters family. \"Sweetie, mimaw is across the country\"\n\n\"No, no grandma Philips\"\n\nAll of sudden Tom felt sick to his stomach, the memories of the accident came back to him, the anger and the sadness. It was swelling inside of him, when he realized something. \"Holly, how do you know what grandma Philips looks like?\"\n\n\"She told me\"\n\nAll of a sudden a creature of mangled muscle came up behind Holly. The pulsating muscle rupturing under a metallic exoskeleton, made of rusty and bent metal. Her right arm went down to the floor and back down the stairs, forming a python like tentacle coming from the shoulder bone. The only resemblance Tom could see, was half her face sticking out from the molten muscle constantly in motion. \n\n\"Tomas\" The creature said \"You're needed by my lord\".\n\nThe things face began to change and mold into another familiar face. \n\nEdit: grammar.", "I sit on the living room couch, legs crossed, laptop burning my thighs. The sound of the screen door opening catches my attention, its familiar creaking signalling that my brother has returned home from work. The footsteps that follow, however, aren’t the usual heavy thumping that I associate with my brother. These aren’t the footsteps of a stranger, though. It’s a sound that triggers something in my brain, something that I haven’t thought about in years.\n\n“Allen?” I call out, setting my laptop aside and rising from the sofa. \n\nA woman’s voice calls out, “Nope. It’s me.”\n\nI round the corner, peering down the hallway. My mom has come home. She’s hanging up her house keys and setting her purse down on the stairs near the door like always. She’s wearing the outfit I’d last seen her leave the house in, blue jeans and a floral patterned t-shirt. \n\nMy brain struggles to register what I’m seeing. I’m having flashbacks to the night that a police officer had come through that door to inform me that my mother wasn’t going to be coming home. But here she was. \n\nI can no longer feel my arms and legs. I feel like a torso floating in space; I can’t breathe. My mom looks at me, noticing my distressed expression. “What’s the matter?” she asked, her voice holding the genuine concern she had always put toward my brother and me. \n\nI open my mouth to answer, but I make no sound. It feels like my brain is short circuiting. The vision of my mother in front of me is suddenly blurred and distorted by black spots. The only things I am able to comprehend after that are my mother’s screams and the feeling of the cool hallway tile against my cheek. \n", "\"Hi Mom\"\n\nHer expression didn't change. It wasn't likely to, I suppose. After all, it hadn't changed much when she was alive, why should it now that she was dead? I held my breath for a moment, then exhaled. Briefly, the mirror she occupied grew foggy, and obscured the stern countenance I had grown accustomed to in my youth. I was twenty two now, and though it had been years since I had last seen her face I could recount every stern wrinkle and frown line that defined her.\n\nShe'd been pretty once, before she stopped smiling, with long golden brown hair that seemed to shine even when the sunlight was absent. In those days, she wore long sundresses and sandals, no matter the weather. At times she made winter warm with her smile.\n\nAt least, that's how my father would described her.\n\nI remember another woman. A woman who had never smiled, and who's face would put a gargoyle to shame and leave scarecrows looking for other work. We agreed on the sundresses though. \n\n\"What are you doing here mother?\"\nShe didn't answer. To be honest, I didn't expect her to. She had always wanted others to work out what she wanted, I guess this time was to be no different. \n\n\"Did you forget something?\"\n\nHer face twitched, much like a statue doesn't. \n\n\"Have you come to apologize?\"\n\nShe inaudibly huffed. Her whole body rising and falling. Death apparently came with a lack of gravity. \n\n\"What then?\" \n\nShe looked sternly at me, which is to say she looked at me as her expression never changed. \n\n\" I'm sorry, but I'm completely at a loss on why you would come back.\" \n\nShe continued to stare. I felt eleven again. Blood rushed to my cheeks.\n\n\"Stop giving me that same damned look. I haven't done anything wrong. I'm a grown man now, and I certainly will not be made to feel like a child again by a woman who's been gone for ten years!\"\n\nHer face lit up, and if it had been anyone else but her, I would have said they were laughing. Instead, I knew she was getting angry. I could feel my own blood beginning to boil. I turned from her, set my jaw, and began to march back to my room. She quickly zipped in front of me, putting her arms on her hips. If she could speak, I imagine I'd have been getting an earful. I didn't pretend to listen. I walked at her, determined to finish my morning routine. \n\nAs soon as I passed through her, she stopped, her jaw closing in mid-silent conversation. \n\n\"Sorry, but I have things I have to do. I don't have time to listen to the phantom of a woman who can't speak to me now, and didn't bother to when she had the chance.\"\n\nSomehow her lips grew tighter, it was almost comical as the her false flesh nearly formed an equal sign on her face. She began to shake. So did the house. Objects began to fall from the walls, books from the bookcases, all forming a veritable commodity graveyard. \n\n\"Seriously?!\"\n\nShe stopped. \n\n\"This? This is what you come back for?! To wreck the house? What, to punish us? Why? Why on earth would you brave whatever hell you came through just to get back and become the same stern looking bitch I remember?!\n\nShe looked shocked, but I knew it had to be a ploy. I pushed away the wave of guilt, and continued. \n\n\"Would it have been so much to ask for you to come back just to see us? No, no. Of course, if my mother is going to brave heaven or hell's or whatever's wraith, it's just so she accommodate whatever request she didn't feel was completed to vindicate her soul. So what is it, Mom? What did you need to hear me say just so you could live contentedly in the afterlife?\"\n\nShe was stunned. Her frozen countenance had been pushed aside, and replaced with one of abject horror. Then she cried. Big heavy sobs that wracked her whole body. I might have smiled if I hadn't felt so angry. Yet, as she continued, the guilt came back. Slowly, and creeping. But back none the less. I sat down beside the grieving ghost. She wrapped translucent arms around me. I didn't feel them, but I tried to the return the gesture. \n\nAfter a moment, she calmed down. Eyes somehow red, she turned from me, and looked in the mirror. Running her hands through her hair, she shook, then returned to me. Feebly, she raised her arm. A calender which had fallen on the floor amidst the ordeal rose up, and floated gently to me. It opened, and she pointed at the date. \n\n\"5/11/2014\"'\n\nMother's Day. My mouth felt dry. My heart started to beat faster. I started to speak.\n\n\"Mom, I'm so\"\n\nShe cut me off, shaking her head. She just stood looking at me, weeping. Every attempt I made to apologize, she refuted speechlessly. So I just sat there, until I began to weep myself. \n\n(Sorry, to anyone, if anyone reads this. It's incomplete, but I have to rush away, and wanted to get something up here.)\n", "It's 8:53 again.\n\nIn two minutes, my mother will walk through the door. She will be wearing a red skirt and a white shirt. Her jacket is in her hand, stained from Gary B. Oldman spilling his wine on her forty-two minutes prior. She will be annoyed, but glad to see me and the meal I have made for her. Again.\n\nMy mother will complain about Becky for three minutes and fifty-seven seconds after discussing how she was stuck in traffic. Blue car has crashed. Man is deceased, girl in tears. Same old story.\n\nAt the six minute mark, a knock will hit the door. Unmistakable. Two quiet knocks followed by a deafening silence. My mother will answer the door. She will be killed soon.\n\nMinor lacerations to the arm and ribs. Screams tear apart the house, and echo down the street. Mr. Phillips is outside having a cigarette. Marlboro Red, 100. He rushes over. It will take him sixty-four steps to make hit here, but it's never enough. Never enough time.\n\nDeep trauma to the stomach, chest, and neck. She will suffer for thirteen seconds. I am left to watch her die before Mr. Phillips arrives and stops the assailant. \n\nAll within a matter of 394 seconds. \n\nI have lived the last six minutes and thirty-four seconds for ten years now. I don't know why, or how to stop it, but I keep getting sent back. My warnings are heedless. I have stopped crying. Stopped trying to escape. I am condemned to watch her die for an eternity.\n\nIt's 8:53 again.\n", "Small things change. My brother’s t-shirts get tighter, my dad’s guitar twangs new sounds. I look at one point and it’s light. I look up later and it’s dark. There’s toast on a plate in front of me and then there’s isn’t. My nails grow. My mother hums. Small things.\n\nNothing changes when night falls. I always give her the silver cutlery now. I’ve watched her stand in the dawn. I’ve traced her fingers over her warm, fleshy cheeks and there’s no pallid discolouration, no smell of rot. She blushes, bleeds. She asks me if I need any more tampons and she buys them for herself. Rhythmic bumps from my parent’s bedroom at night. \n\nSo I don’t know what it is. \n\n“Why is mum here?” I asked my brother once, but he just looked at me like I was mad. \n\nI’m not mad. I see it in her. Small things change but the big things don’t: I see the wrongness in her. The empty plate by my hand is cool and the bread knife my dad used for the toast is nearby.\n\nRhythmic bumps from my parent’s bedroom.\n\nI pick it up.\n\nI’m not mad.\n" ]	5
	[WP] The Grim Reaper has announced his retirement and is conducting a universe-wide search for his protégé.	[ "She shuffles in line towards the caped figure, wondering if this is really the only way to break her curse. \n\"NEXT!\" The figure shouts as another fails his test, forcing her closer to the front of the line. \nHer curse was not like the curses of others--which always seem to bring sadness to others--instead her curse was to bring everyone else their ultimate happiness, while she was always left waiting on the sidelines drowning in her own pain. \n\"NEXT!\" Only two more in line a head of her. Could she really make the selfish choice to stop bring other people their ultimate happiness? Could she really stop her own pain?\n\"NEXT!\" One left. Could she end her curse by bringing people pain and becoming the reaper? Or would their deaths become happy and her pain become worse?\n\"NEXT!\" She runs.\n", "\"It takes a special skill to know when it's ready,\" the old man said with a wistful smile. He shielded his eyes from the bright sun as he stared out over the vast field before him. He was rake thin with a straight back, even after all these years of hard labor. \"It's not like normal farming. You have to harvest every day, at least parts of it.\"\n\n\"And you plant every day too?\"\n\n\"Yup. I've got the farm sectioned off pretty well. Each section should be ready to harvest around the same time. And the soil is soft, so planting is easy too.\"\n\nHe squatted and ran his gnarled fingers through the dirt. I followed suit and felt the earth between my fingertips. His nail beds were black after years of hard work, and his skin was leathery from the sun. \n\n\"I've got it sectioned pretty well, but things can still get a little out of order. That's why we don't use a combine harvester on this farm. We still do everything by hand.\"\n\n\"Have you ever tried to modernize?\" I asked.\n\n\"A few times,\" he said, \"but it was too easy to cut down whole fields before their time. It's better just to stick to the way it's always been done.\" He knew what I was thinking because he continued barely above a whisper, \"You'll bring the combine back, like I did when I started. I thought we could modernize, but efficiency has a price. Everyone thinks that, and everyone goes back to the old ways.\"\n\nWe stood in silence for some time after that as we watched the wind shake the limitless stalks of barley, wheat and rye. The property stretched out before us like an endless patchwork quilt. \n\n\"Why me,\" I asked.\n\n\"Because your hands are soft,\" he stated. \"Because you haven't got proper work boots and your nails are clean. You're not used to this kind of work, yet. You'll be more careful and treat it with deserved reverence.\n\n\"You're young too,\" he continued. \"I'm too old to keep up with all this work forever. The property has expanded and I need someone strong to take over.\"\n\n\"I'm not that young anymore,\" I said. \n\n\"And I'm much older than I look,\" he continued. \"Working with your hands will keep you young much longer, but you still can't live forever.\" He handed me the scythe and pointed toward a field only a few hundred yards drown the hill from where we stood. \"That's where you start today.\"\n\n\"How long has it been since you lost the taste for this work?\" I asked. \"What if I hate the job?\"\n\n\"You're responsible. You'll find a suitable replacement when you need to get out.\" He paused. \"As for me, I never had a taste for this work. It's not about enjoying it; you just do what needs to be done. There's a time to sew and a time to reap.\"\n\nHe bent down and picked a long rye stalk growing near his feet and thumbed the grains at the top. He pointed the stalk in the direction of the field. \"Better get going before the daylight gets away from you. I'll be waiting for you in the house with some sweet tea when you're done.\"\n\nI started walking down the hill toward my vast expanse of land and he walked back toward the house. When I turned back, I could just barely see his outline wavering in the heat", "The cold rain flicked at my face like a 5 year old sadist. Flick. Flick. Flick. Flick. Goddammit. One final drag from my cigarette, then it falls slowly to the ground. This one's going to be rough. I hate the rough ones. I hate the easy ones. I hate the so-so-ones. I hate this job.\n\nThe cigarette falls, slower and slower until it stops, mid-air, just before the burning ember reaches the puddle below. Time has stopped. I walk carefully over to the body in the alleyway, mangled and torn; a meatbag of burst sinew and blood now.\n\n\"It's time\" I whisper.\n\n\"NOOOOOOOOOOO! I DON'T WANT TO GO!\" the soul trapped in that meatbag yells.\n\n\"You weren't thinking that just a moment ago. A moment ago you wanted to die. You made it happen. It's TIME TO GO!\"\n\n\"YOU CAN'T MAKE ME! I WANT TO LIVE!\" \n\n\"How can you do that now? Your brain is mush. Your body is barely held together by the skin that surrounds it. And besides, this is my job. You're in my world, now. I have a delivery to make.\"\n\nNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-. I cut her off. Too many times this happens. I'm tired of it all. I harvest her soul, get ready for my delivery. My last delivery. I need to find a replacement.\n\nI know some folks. Folks who don't want this job either. But one of 'em is gonna get it.\n\n ", "The man sighed as he looked at the woman sprawled on the floor, the last drops of blood dripping from her. It was a sigh of relief and regret.\n\nThe man had hired him to do this. It was his job. No one else had said anything was HIS. The world was just full of takers. They yanked his job, stole his parents. They even stole his light away from him like a thief in the night. \n\nThe light always told him that people needed to appreciate life to its fullest. That every light was precious. But he figured out the greatest points in the lights cycle. The spark of its creation, and the smoke it gave to the world when it dies. This was the gift of his job. To appreciate both sides from now until eternity...", "A drained hourglass sat at the corner of Death's table, it was the only decoration to adorn the shadow of a place that he called home. A symbol of life, poured away.\n\n\"Are you familiar with matters of time?\" Death spoke a hollow tone; devoid of life as one might expect. \n\"It is for a matter of time that you are here.\" \n\nThe air was dry, Jonathan choked through his response. \n\"I... I've died?... I still feel... I... I need...\" \n\n\"I don't help people.\" Death interrupted with a slow wave of his scythe. \n\"You hold your humanity only because I haven't taken it from you.\" \nA silence settled as Death leaned forward. \n\"Yet.\" \nHe levelled his sunken eyes at Jonathan from across the darkness.\n\"I want to make a trade with you.\" \n\nShifting uncomfortably in his cold, stone seat, Jonathan could feel a sensation like an expansion of nothingness growing through the pit of his stomach. It was hard for him to speak.\n\"I... I don't have anything to trade... nothing that... nothing that would interest you, Death.\" \n\nA chuckle like grinding stone on concrete dragged itself through the emptiness before dying in the heavy atmosphere. \n\"So you know me. Jonathan, how would you like to live for as long as you please? The job is yours if, instead of dying, you would fill my role as reaper.\" \n\nThe thought was not unbearable and even as Jonathan mulled it over Death rose from his place and, leaving his scythe propped against the table, walked into the darkness", "\"So let me get this straight. You want me to write a program. To decide when people -\"\n\n\"Not just people.\"\n\n\"-Oh. Oh, shit. I mean, shit, sorry, that was really unprofessional. Sorry, uh... what should I be calling you?\"\n\n\"If I say 'Mr. Black,' are you going to be able to restrain yourself? I know you're quite the movie buff, Mr. Jackson.\"\n\nTerrence blanched. \"That won't be a problem, Mr. Black.\"\n\n\"Good. No offense to the cast or crew, but I'm not a fan of being white-knighted, and I think it's important to emphasize that I don't get vacations. Hence my resort to a final solution.\"\n\nMr. Black's nearly-colorless lips widened out into a tight, thin, toothless smirk. Terrence froze up, close to crashing. Mr. Black's sense of humor was perfectly... off.\n\nThe young programmer struggled with two competing instincts. One was to laugh, to placate, to show submission. Maybe the layered wordplay had been clever and funny, or maybe it hadn't. That hardly mattered. Staying on Mr. Black's good side - if he (it?) even had one - trumped any impromptu exegesis on comedic theory that Terrence might have entertained, had he not been on the verge of an anxiety attack. The other instinct was to avoid laughing at all costs, because that might grant the rest of his mind permission to exit stage right and leave his body a gibbering mess. Terrence briefly wondered if this was how Mr. Black did his (its?) business: leveraging his (its?) reputation to simply scare folks to death.\n\n\"I think the second option is preferable in this situation, Mr. Jackson,\" Mr. Black sagely intoned. \"And no, I can't actually read minds. But I can read code, so to speak. Take a breath. Try to remember that I'm here on retirement business, not business business. And the masculine pronoun will suffice. It is how I chose to appear, after all. It would hardly be appropriate for Death to be a female, and I'm not sure this world is ready for my... preferred manifestations.\"\n\nTerrence obeyed the command to breathe, grateful for the firm and clear direction, but still not fully capable of soaking up Mr. Black's smatterings of explication. The breathing helped a bit. Strangely enough, so did the relief of not having to vacillate between pronouns. Funny what can aggravate the mind.\n\nOnce upon a time - a few days ago - Terrence Jackson had been a confident master, at least while bunkered down in his fortress of monitors and keyboards. Today was Day Three of every sentient creature on the planet - in the universe? - coming to grips (rather poorly, at least locally) with the revelation that they were masters of nothing. The jury was still out on God - or any god, really - but humanity had been given a dread answer to a distinctly theological question: Death was sentient, and at a minimum did a dangerously good impression of a human being.\n\n\"Okay. So you want me to write a program that decides when and how everything dies. Everything. But not, like, the universe, or math, or stuff. Just 'life,' which you can explain to me, I guess?\"\n\nMr. Black nodded smartly. \"Precisely.\"\n\n\"That part I actually understand,\" began Terrence, to which Mr. Black replied only with an amused look of pity, \"but I guess I'm just not clear on why we're starting from scratch. Don't you have... records?\"\n\nMr. Black rolled his eyes, though not, Terrence thought, out of frustration with his prospective contractor.\n\n\"Are you familiar with the phrase 'everything falls apart,' Mr. Jackson? I think you are. They forced you to read the poem in year eleven and the eponymous book in year twelve. Not your best subject, but it stuck with you, if I'm not mistaken.\"\n\nTerrence gulped and nodded.\n\n\"Well,\" continued Mr. Black, \"as you're undoubtedly aware, it's a truism that is tragically accurate vis-a-vis storage media. I cannot tell you how many interns I hired to keep porting over my notes from format to format. It was a disaster. But in hindsight, I'm not sure why I even bothered. Vanity, probably. You see, most of those records were created and stored to refine a particular algorithm, with a particular purpose.\"\n\nTerrence's face scrunched up in confusion. His programmer bits were coming online. That was good. Well, unless they put his foot in his mouth. That would still be bad.\n\n\"So wait, what? A particular algorithm for a particular purpose... that isn't 'to decide when and how everything dies?'\" Terrence couldn't see around this particular corner, and his programmer bits didn't like being blindsided. His programmer bits weren't nearly as fazed by the new world order, but that also meant they probably weren't going to adapt to it as quickly.\n\nMr. Black smiled again, still toothlessly tight-lipped. \"Well, yes and no. Yes, and no. I'm sure that must be frustrating for someone in your line of work to hear. One, and zero. The technology's not quite there yet, is it?\n\n\"Allow me to resolve the superficial contradiction. Yes, the system produced the required output. But to what end? Well, simply put: to this end, Mr. Jackson. Retirement. Replacement. By a machine. I'm not exactly bound by the economics of scarcity; I've nothing to lose and everything to gain by sloughing off this wretched task onto a Chinese Room in a Black Box in a tin can. And so here we are. Phase One, from the first few cells to your great-grandparents to the here and now, were all designed - with some trial and error, mind you - to lead up to this point: you - with quite a bit of help, obviously - building a replacement for me.\"\n\nTerrence's programmer bits temporarily checked out. Against every silent exhortation, his sci-fi/fantasy bits checked in. Don't do it, you stupid asshole, he thought to himself. Do not go Comic Book Guy/Red Shirt Guy on Death incarnate. Just don't do it. You don't need to know. You need to shut the fuck up.\n\n\"But why couldn't you just -\"\n\nMr. Black's smile vanished. \"Death cannot create, Mr. Jackson. Yes, I know, I've 'created' all manner of intellectual property over the vast eons, and so I'm sure from your cultural perspective that doesn't make any sense at all. I am aware. The subject bores me to tears, frankly, and I doubt it would do you any good for me to explain it to you like you're five... million.\" \n\nTerrence's gut released a disastrous gurgle of stress-induced flatulence that threatened to take a shortcut to his rectum, the one reserved for bombastic social suicides. Death's toothless grin had freaked him out, but he suddenly missed it. He missed it a lot.\n\nMr. Black shook his head, shrugging off whatever annoyance Terrence's pathetically limited perspective had inflicted upon him. \"One more reason I'm so looking forward to retirement, Mr. Jackson. Once the program is fully operational, I might actually be able to find a hobby.\"\n\nTerrence's insides untwisted, critical mass averted, gases dissipating at an acceptable rate. He refocused his attention on his new reality: independent contractor for Death - not the first, but the first of many more.\n\n\"Okay then. I suppose... I suppose we'll get to work. This is going to take awhile, isn't it?\"\n\nMr. Black nodded. \"Oh yes. Several lifetimes. But you'll find that I'm an enlightened employer by necessity, Mr. Jackson, since I can never devote my full attention to this, my most valued task. You'll have your vacations and sick days and all the rest. You'll have a life, of sorts - though I must admit that my sudden revelation to this world is going to make your neighbors rather annoying for a few decades. Not to worry, though. Your personal security and privacy will be a top priority for my staff, and you will never want for any material goods. \n\n\"Dating will be... difficult,\" he concluded, and he almost sounded apologetic. \"But I suppose it's worth mentioning that your selection has... implications. For humanity. For its future. Everything falls apart, Mr. Jackson, unless it is regularly maintained. Phase Three is a long ways off. Phase Two requires humanity for its entirety.\"\n\nTerrence simply stood, blankly, dumbly, swallowing thought after thought, each one more frivolous and superfluous than the last - or maybe that was just a trick of the mind, for he could practically feel his perspective widening by the moment, struggling to encompass the enormity of the Reaper's Bargain he was about to accept on behalf of his entire species. He wondered if Mr. Black's Phase One remained vulnerable to error, if there was any choice here at all. He wondered if he could still fuck this up for the whole human race, and veer them off onto a path of quick extinction that, for his whole life, it had seemed like they'd rather deserved.\n\nEventually, he wondered no more. This was an offer he couldn't refuse, and didn't even want to. One final thought intruded, however, and Terrence felt no panic or shame or confusion as he gave it voice.\n\n\"This is all rather anticlimactic, isn't it?\" he asked, perhaps to Mr. Black, perhaps to no one at all.\n\nMr. Black's eyes twinkled for the first time.\n\n\"Oh yes, it is. Endings usually are.\"", "All the preparations had been made. \n\nIt took me a couple months longer than I thought, but writing goodbye to all your loved ones is a thicker process than I had imagined. I wrote a list of the people I loved the most first, I took a look at said long-ass list, got lazy, and start grouping them into phylums: “Friends”, “Family”. \n\nObviously I started with the important people, they’re the most emotional: “Mom”, “Annie”. Lots of trembling, some tears, an unfortunate ton of re-writing. I learned my lesson after ruining two expensive (well…by my standards) pieces of parchment and worked out the kinks of the rough drafts on my iPad before actually writing them down. \n\nTurns out it’s incredibly hard to tell the people you love all the reasons why you killed yourself without coming off a little pretentious. “This didn’t turn out this way”, & “This blew up”. Blah. Blah. Blah. I actually started to have second thoughts about it, putting them on paper started to give me a different perspective. But one night I took stock of my life, realized I still hadn’t had a discernible “win” in any area of my life in the past two years, and didn’t see any coming any time soon.\n\nIt had to be the park near my house. Midnight. I was friendly with the A.M. groundskeeper, we used to talk when I would go for morning walks. I could trust him to take care of my body and alert my family as soon as possible. …I couldn’t let my mother walk in on me, like that. She’s been through too much.\n\nI was in the driver’s seat. My window was open. I stole razors from work for the task, there was some romanticism in that, I thought.\n\nI had been practicing on my left arm for days. I was ready.\n\nI cut a swath up my left wrist. I cut a twin wound across my right wrist. \n\nMy heart didn’t race, I wasn’t sweaty. I wasn’t nervous. I had made preparations. I was ready. More ready for that than failing in life. More ready for that than realizing that nobody’s special, there isn’t some white hat behind the scenes ready to save the day for us. We’re on our own, and I had made too many mistakes, I wasn’t going to screw that up.\n\nExcept…I didn’t die. The bleeding came to an end, my heart stopped pounding, and everything was numb. But I didn’t die. Gusts of wind thru the window, I didn’t feel anything.\n\n“You speak several languages.”\n\nHe came into view in the rear mirror. I think he was looking directly at me, I couldn’t really tell, my eyes were fixed on the hood of my car.\n\n“That’s interesting.”\n\nI thought to myself “no it’s not”.\n\n“Yes. Yes it is.”\n\nOkay that’s weird.\n\n“It is. But your body is dead.”\n\nJust my body?\n\n“Currently your spirit still resides in that husk.”\n\nWhy?\n\n“I retired today. And because I no longer wanted my duty, you and everyone like you cannot pass. There’s no one to see you to it.”\n\nPlease…\n\n“Young man. I’m retired. Don’t bother begging an old man in retirement. It’s far, far too late for that. No, I’m not hear for your begging. I’m here to make you an offer.”\n\nYou want me to replace you.\n\n“Yes. Yes I do.”\n\nWhy me?\n\n“Because you’re quite good at preparing lists. You don’t miss things.”\n\nYou’re picking me because I’m a glorified accountant?\n\n“No. That’s why you would be good at this job. I’m picking you specifically because you want it.”\n\nWhat?\n\n“The meaning of life. It’s why you’re doing this.”\n\nThere have to be others.\n\n“Oh there are. You have the right to refuse, obviously. You just happened to be the first male on the list.”\n\nWhy not a woman?\n\n“I’d never let a woman do this job.”\n\nThat’s a little……old-fashioned.\n\n“Not where I come from.”\n\nIf I do this…how long do I have to do it?\n\n“Until you get the answer that you seek.”\n\nDid you tire of it?\n\n“It’s not about being tired. It’s not about rest. I’ve done my duty. I’ve seen the meaning in all of this……dust.” \n\nAnd if I don’t…\n\n“Then you don’t. Nothing happens. You don’t get the answer, you don’t understand.”\n\nI wasn’t sure how much time had passed before I answered him. But I had to say yes. I had to know why. Why everything.\n\nI’ll do it.\n\n“Wonderful.”\n\nSo what now?\n\n“Now you make preparations.”\n", "It felt like we were in a Willy Wonka movie. Shiki, Universe A-3's sole god of death announced that he was retiring from his multi-millennial reign of natural terror. He needed a replacement to carry out the only guaranteed factor of life- the destruction of it. He announced that he would hold a competition to determine who would become the omniscient, omnipresent and omnipotent ruler of death across the universe. Each planet was instructed to gather five of their most worthy, be them scholars, athletes, artists or sacrifices. Exactly 1.54 Earth months after the announcement the elite from across the universe would be teleported to Death's domain to undergo the yet unannounced test. The only catch that Shiki spoke of was that no matter what happened, none of the champions would return.\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nShiki didn't just announce his retirement. He provided a great many planets with information that they did not have: There was other life in the universe. Earth itself had never had proven contact with extraterrestrials so they discussed in awe all of the new information that they learned. There were many days spent arguing about which country's elite would be selected so Earth's alliances decided that a random pick from the cream of the crop was the only fair way to go. There were of course attempts at gaming the system, but luckily they were able to move past these atrocities (Sharply punishing the offending leaders in the process) and select their champions. The three men and two women gathered at the southern pole of Earth on the assigned day and waited.\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nThey all awoke having no memory of being beamed to Death's domain. Switzerland's champion turned to his left and found himself face-to-face with a bioluminescent organism with a beak. The creature turned to him and looked at him with eyes as dark as obsidian. Suddenly the alien flinched and let out a high-pitched scream. Switzerland fell backwards, paralyzed with fear. The glowing bird-alien suddenly quieted and, in a completely calm and deep tone said \"Die.\" Switzerland found himself covered in red as the bird tore out his throat. The bird kicked him over and spit a large chunk of his neck on the ground. As he lay on the ground in shock, he noted many similar conflicts going on around him. All manner of nightmarish and strange beings clashed around him. He exhaled deeply out of his neck and closed his eyes in anticipation of an eternal rest.\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nThere was a laugh. A booming voice penetrated the battlefield, somehow cutting through the screams and attacks. Death addressed the crowd for the second time:\n\n\"Why are you attacking each other? I never told you that this was a competition to the death you silly creatures. This is a competition for Death. If all of you kill each other then you will be of no use to me. Calm yourselves and hear my words.\"\n\nEvery single champion rose. Switzerland noticed that the blood on his clothes was oozing back into his body. Taking advantage of a nearby being with reflective skin he saw many veins and arteries repairing themselves within his neck. Seconds later he felt a hard blow as the torn-away chunk of his neck collided with him, sealing itself back on his body.\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\"As you have probably noticed, you are all unable to perish now. I have asked your respective worlds to send me their best, and you have been deemed as such. I have watched you all through the selection process. Some planets chose their absolute best, accepting that their world could exist without you. Others chose those they saw as sacrifices, selfishly keeping their real champions for themselves. This is not a problem. I anticipated this. Nonetheless, you have all arrived expecting to compete for the position of a god. That was a false-pretense that I have created in order to see the true nature of your worlds. All that have gone to war as a result of my proclamation, all that have turned to corruption to get ahead, all that took my words as a hoax or a passing event have been noted. After this moment, all of the affected worlds will experience a change. All will have the parameters of death altered to reflect their behavior. Those who have corrupted themselves to get ahead here will have the phenomenon of death delayed by exactly one minute. This is no blessing. Were a soldier to be blown into one million pieces on the battlefield of an affected world, he would experience life as a fragmented being. He will experience all of the pain and sensation of death for one minute longer than he should. An organism poisoned will sit in futility as they are tortured one minute beyond what should have been peace. The second part of this, and this is the ultimate downside of the delay is that all who start that minute will have absolutely no chance at being healed or revived.\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nThe champions stood in shock at this proclamation. There was a brief uproar or protest, however Shiki waved his hand and silenced them all. \n\n\"Despite that factor of deception, I was speaking the truth when I announced my retirement. I will be ending my life as all being must for my personal peace of mind. It is now that your purposes will be fulfilled. There is no magical artifact that can turn you into gods of death. Even I cannot bestow an individual that power. What it takes to make a God is much more than one mere mortal.\"\n\nDeath raised his hands and began to glow. All of the champions felt an odd vibrating sensation. This sensation did not seem to be from their bodies, but their very souls themselves.\n\n\"I hope you all enjoy your eternity. I will tell you, it can be maddening at times.\"\n\nIn an instant, all of the champions became a force of pure energy and collided together. When they awoke, it was not as a group of champions, but one god of death. The collective minds worked as one being and as individuals simultaneously. Some watched in horror at the pain that their origin worlds experienced, while others felt a looming fear at the eternity of horror they were going to observe.", "The man in blue towered over the man in red, relishing the noticeable height difference that stemmed from the fact that the man in red was tied down to a chair, whereas the man in blue was not. The man in blue pressed the revolver to the man in red's temple.\n\n\"Look, man, this ain't nothin' personal, but we gotta send a message. Can't have the rest of you doin' this sorta shit on our turf anymore, know what I'm sayin'?\" He cocked back the hammer. \"Any last words?\"\n\n\"Fuck you.\"\n\nThe man in blue let out a cocky laugh. \"You're a real goddamn wordsmith. I'll make sure they write that on your tombstone.\"\n\nA flash of light, the beginning of an insanely loud bang—and then time stopped.\n\nThe man in black walked in, flipping frantically through an oversized manilla folder, stuffed with hundreds of pages. \"Shit, who the fuck do I have now‽ Where the fuck am I now‽\" He glanced around maniacally. \"Oh, great, what is this‽ A gang fight‽ Oh, wow, thanks for the fuckin' vacation, assholes! So glad to be out of the famines to get involved with this shit!\"\n\nHe paced back and forth intensely, then looked at his watch. \"Oh!\" He let out a sound of pure relief; an unsettling mixture of laughs and sobs. In its infinitely short span of non-time, his tearful jubilation seemed to last infinitely long. \"Oh, sweet holy fuck, it's over! The last minute is finally over!\" He laughed harder than he ever had before in his life, or his non-life.\n\nThe man in black looked down at the man in red, then pulled out a scythe-shaped blade from his jacket. \"This is nice, right? Like it?\" He grinned like a complete lunatic.\n\n\"Who the fuck are—\"\n\n\"Look, let's not do all that formal shit of who I am and who you are and what the fuck this all is. You hate those guys, right? They're wearin' a different color than you, and you hate 'em, and you wanna kill 'em, right? I mean, they just killed you, so you wanna kill 'em back, yeah? Revenge, and all that shit? Lemme hook you up. Says here...\" He pulled out a page from the manilla folder. \"...yeah, yeah, says here your friends are gonna come in and fuck shit up! Kill all these motherfuckers. I mean...\" He flipped the page over. \"...you gotta kill some of your friends, too, but I mean, that's just some of them. But you get to kill all these blue sunnuvabitches! That's what you want, right?\"\n\n\"Man, what the fuck are you—\"\n\n\"Hey, look, no time to explain, just forget I said anything. Or I mean, just pretend you understood and agreed with everything I said. Oh, yeah.\" The man in black used the scythe-blade to cut the man in red's binds. \"You're welcome. Look, you just gotta kill people for one day! That's cool, yeah? You're down with that, yeah? That's just like, a hundred sixty thousand people. No sweat.\"\n\nThe man in black bent down, and stared intensely into the man in red's eyes, giddy with excitement. \"Yeah, you a cold motherfucker, right? One sixty ain't nothin' for you, right‽ Oh, this is good, man! This is perfect!\"\n\n\"Can I fuckin' say somethin' to—\"\n\n\"Chill, man. Chill. Just take this. And this.\" The man in black dropped the manilla folder and the scythe-blade on the ground, in the general direction of the man in red's feet. \"Okay, I'm out! Peace!\"\n\nThe man in black slammed the door. A loose hinge wobbled slightly.", "Az sighed, tapping his fingers on his chest. The barista had yet to call his name, and he knew that if she didn't in the next minute that he would have to leave before he got his pumpkin spice latte. He shifted his gaze between the barista who was busy cheeking off with some young stud and an older woman who had failed to realize that she was allergic to hazelnut. \n\nHe eyed the older woman; her name was Beatrice. She had two dogs at home who would be taken to the pound. One of them would be adopted while the other would be put down. Beatrice had once had a daughter by the name of Ashley that had committed suicide at the age of 14 because someone in High School called her fat. Her husband left her soon after the suicide, and now the lonely woman had turned to finding leisurely activities such as walking the park, reading books, painting, and just recently, trying out new flavors of coffee at the local coffee shop.\n\nBeatrice raised the cup to her lips, and Az cringed, eyes bouncing wildly back and forth between the barista and Beatrice. \n\nFuck fuck fuck fuck fuck\n\nBeatrice paused; she had noticed that there was a spot on her thumb. She sat the coffee back down on the table and wiped at her hand. Az relaxed, sinking back into his seat. He looked to the barista, wondering what the hell was taking her so long to make his damn drink.\n\nBeatrice raised the coffee back to her lips again, this time with no indication of slowing down. \n\nDammit.\n\nShe took three good gulps of the coffee, and sat it down, continuing to browse through the new romance novel she had bought the other day. Az shook his head, looking to the barista. Part of him was angry; he looked forward to reaping her soul in the next year when she decides to run a red light, but another part of Az was just fed up. \n\nHe was done. All he wanted was a damn latte and now (HOLY SHIT SHE'S CHOKING) Beatrice is flopping around on the floor while patrons of the coffee shop attempt to give her the Heimlich maneuver, and despite all the commotion, the barista was still cheeking off with the guy. They were both so oblivious. Probably was the reason they were both scheduled to die in car accidents.\n\nAz stood up. He clapped his hands and time stopped. The patrons of the coffee shop froze and the whole entire world took on a strange glossy blue hue. \n\nHe waited a few moments for Peter to arrive; the gatekeeper was always so punctual. He always jumped down Az's throat the second a soul didn't arrive on time. \n\nAnd right on schedule, the door to the coffee shop flew open. An old greying man wearing a Slayer t-shirt, cargo shorts, and flip flops walked in.\n\n\"Az, what is it this time?\" Peter asked, a look of obvious resentment on his face. \"I swear, this is the third time this century you've pulled this stunt.\"\n\n\"I'm done with this shit,\" Az said.\n\nPeter's face drooped as if he just had a stroke. \"Say again?\"\n\n\"I'm done! These people are idiots! I can't take this anymore, I swear Peter, I feel like I'm losing it.\"\n\n\"Quit being melodramatic, Az, I swear you are such a diva,\" Peter said, looking over Az's shoulder at the frozen patrons who were sprawled out on the floor trying to save Beatrice's life. \n\n\"Do you want another black plague to happen?\" Az said coolly. \"I swear to boss, I will make another black plague happen.\" \n\n\"You're bluffing,\" Peter said. \n\n\"Try me. I've been wanting to make zombies happen. I'll make zombies happen, Peter.\"\n\nPeter's outward appearance didn't budge, but Az knew he was thinking hard. \n\n\"Fine, find someone to fill in, then report to the boss. He's not going to be happy about this,\" Peter said. With that, he walked back out of the coffee shop, flip flops smacking the bottoms of his feet.\n\nAz smiled. He looked around the coffee shop, eyeing the patrons who were helping Beatrice.\n\nHe pointed a bony finger, \"Eeny, meeny, miny, moe..\"", "After forty-five minutes of possibly the worst job interview of his life (and of the interviewer's life, for that matter), Joe was more than ready to leave.\n\nGo on, he thought to himself. Just say \"Thank you for coming, we'll be in contact with you\" even though there's no way in hell that I'll ever get a call back.\n\n\"Alright, well... you're hired!\"\n\n\"What?\" Joe stared, dumbfounded. The Grim Reaper smiled at him. \n\n\"Great job, son. You've got the job.\"\n\nAll he could think to say was, \"Is this a test?\"\n\n\"Is there some kind of problem? I'm assuming that you're here because you want the job, correct?\" The Reaper frowned at him.\n\n\"Yeah, of course I want it, but that was an awful interview,\" Joe pointed out. \"I mean, I'm sure that my qualifications are the lowest out of all the people who applied. I saw the other applicants that went before me.\"\n\n\"Oh, them.\" The Reaper waved his hand with a chuckle. \"They're not fit for the job.\"\n\nUpon seeing the confused expression on Joe's face, he continued, \"I've been doing this job for a long time now, you see. I know better than anyone else who'll be right for the job. And trust me, those two definitely weren't.\"\n\nHe pulled out one of the desk drawers and took two files from it. Then he slammed the drawer shut and slapped the files down in front of Joe.\n\n\"Go on. Open 'em.\"\n\nJoe complied.\n\nInside the first file, a picture of the woman he had seen earlier was staring up at him. Just looking at the picture gave him chills. The woman's lips were set in a thin line, and veins bulged from her neck.\n\n\"Ahh, yes. Frightening, isn't she?\" the Reaper asked. \"She scared me, too. To most people, she probably seems most fitting for the job. She's led a violent enough life and has experienced probably far more horrors than any other human alive...\"\n\nThe Reaper reached out to close the file and gently pushed it aside. \n\n\"And yet, that is not the right person to decide. We cannot have such a callous and unsympathetic Reaper. The death rates would go through the roof, and that's just not how it's supposed to work.\"\n\nJoe opened up the second file. Now, a picture of a smiling young man stared back at him. \n\n\"What about him? He was incredibly kind,\" Joe said, remembering how the man had sincerely wished him luck as they had passed each other. \n\n\"Yes, he was. He has had extensive experience with terminally ill children, and he spends most of his free time volunteering at free clinics.\" As he had before, the Reaper closed the file and pushed it aside. \"To most people, he also probably seems fitting for the job. He's kind-hearted and, as you've probably guessed, a forgiving man. But I'm afraid that he is far too kind. There are many assignments that he simply will not be able to carry out; they'll weigh too heavily on his conscience. Even if he did push through the job, it would break him. I couldn't bear to do that. Besides, overpopulation is already enough of an issue as is.\"\n\nThe Reaper folded his hands together expectantly. \"So... any other questions?\"\n\n\"Yeah. Why me?\"\n\n\"You were right. That interview was rather horrible. You don't stand out from your peers at all. You've hardly accomplished anything with your life, and your character is not strongly enough defined by any traits to set you apart from the rest of the population. In fact, Joe... I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but the only reason that you qualify perfectly for this job is because you are so ordinary.\"\n\n\"Okay.\" The comment hurt less than he expected it to because a tiny part of him had always known that it was true. There was nothing particularly special about him at all. \"But... what if the job breaks me?\" \n\n\"Oh, I'm sure that it well. You're ordinary, after all, not heartless.\" The Reaper smiled reassuringly at him. \"Why do you think I'm retiring? I can tell that I've just about reached my breaking point. Because I am not exceedingly callous, I cannot simply ignore the toll that this job has taken on me. But because I am also not exceedingly kind, I cannot sacrifice my own well-being for the sake of sparing anyone else the burden of this job. I am, however, perfectly ordinary. So I can admit that I've had enough. So I choose you. Any more questions then?\"\n\nThere was a brief silence as Joe contemplated his words.\n\n\"When do I start?\"" ]	11
	[WP] Take the protagonist from the last show you watched and the last movie you saw and put them in the universe of the last book you read/saw	[ "Dean woke up in another odd smelling, damp, and generally shitty motel. It was not unlike the only he fell asleep in but it was certainly not it. \n\n\"Aw what the hell man! I'm seriously sick of this angel bullshit!\" He looked around the room and noticed just how run down it was. There were decaying pieces of plywood partially nailed across the windows, blood coating the bed beside him, and he was pretty sure the toilet was in the bathtub. He also noticed he was alone.\n\n\"Sam?! You there?\" He waited. \"Sammy?!\" \n\nThere was a scratch at the door, followed by more along the windows and other muffled sounds.\n\n\"Please let that be you, Sam.\" Whispering, he ducked down and crouched against the wall, slowly edging closer to the least covered window. Before peering out, he checked for his pistol. It wasn't there. \"Fuck.\"\n\nSomething smashed into the wall, knocking Dean over briefly. Immediately his back was back against the wall, hiding under the window. After the initial collision a continuous sound, not unlike a pipe being used to beat a man, went on for around a minute. After it stopped Dean waited a few seconds, inhaled deeply and made his way for the door. Before opening it, he double checked his coat for a weapon. Tucked into a pocket was the demon-killing knife. \"Well thank god for small miracles.\" \n\nThe door was kicked in, knocking Dean back and into the wall. Upon pulling himself from the plaster he was confronted by a man in a jumpsuit that adorned the stars and stripes. He held a bloodstained shield that also had the patriotic markings.\n\n\"Oh this is just lovely. First, the angels and now this. An all American nutjob in spandex.\" Dean clasped his hands together for a moment. \"Well I'd love to stay and sing the anthem, but I've gotta go kick someone's ass and find my brother.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry sir, but I can't let you leave.\" The man blocked the doorway, lifting his shield to chest level. \"I have to make sure you're not infected.\" His eyes were already scanning over Deans body, checking for any fresh wounds or signs of infection.\n\n\"Look...Mr. American Man...I've got an Apocalypse to deal with and now I have to figure whatever is going on here. Some of us have real jobs, so if you don't mind, get out of my way.\" Dean took a step towards the man, reaching into his coat and grasped the knifes handle. \n\n\"I'm sorry, but you have to stay. I will disarm and restrain you. It's for your own good.\" Lunging forward, he grabbed Deans coat and pulled downward while thrusting his shield upward, into Deans jaw. Dean dropped and while disoriented, still attempted to stab the man. \"Don't bother. That was a warning, I will do worse next time.\" The man turned and looked into the night, then down at the mutilated corpses on the ground. Closing the door, he faced Dean again. \"By the way, the names not Mr. American Man. It's Captain America.\"\n\n\"Captain America? Haha, right. That sounds so much better. Of course.\" Through his sarcasm, a moan of pain still surfaced and Dean leaned his head back, resting it in the broken plaster.\n\n_________________________________________________________\n\nI need to go right now, but I can continue this later on.", "Doctor Gregory House looked around the shadows, wondering exactly what was going on. Last he remembered he had been on his way to the clinic to wipe snotty noses and tell helicopter parents their snot-nosed kids had a simple cold virus. He hated Autumn specifically for for that reason. \n\nA scratching noise bugged his ears just out of the circle of light he was standing in. Out of the shadows stepped Wilson in a strange outfit.\n\n\"Why are you wearing a leotard?\" House asked, putting on a look of curious disgust. \n\n\"Who are you?\" Wilson asked. \n\n\"You know who I am.\" House smirked and rolled his eyes at Wilson. \"Quit playing, what's going on?\" \n\n\"Well, last I remember I was backstage just before the play-\" \n\n\"The play?\" House interrupted. \"Since when were you in a play?\"\n\n\"For a couple weeks now. Again who are you? Are you a friend of Mr. Keating?\" Wilson asked, his eyes lighting up just a bit. \n\n\"Who?\" House asked, leaning forward a bit more on his cane.\n\n\"Put your hands up and don't move!\" A female voice commanded out of the shadows. A petite young blonde woman in black clothes holding a gun stepped into the circle of light, pointing the weapon at House and Wilson. She looked at them both with a confused face. \"What faction are you two from? Amity? Abnegation?\"\n\n\"If you want my hands up you'll have to shoot my leg.\" House glared at her. \n\nThe woman smirked, \"Candor perhaps?\" She hesitated for a moment, but then spoke again, \"do you think you could help my friend here?\" Two men stumbled out of the darkness, one limping, the other leaning on the first. \n\n\"What happened?\" House looked at the hole in the shoulder of the non-limping man. He was younger than he looked at a distance. The boy looked at the woman and practically spat his next words.\n\n\"The stiff shot me.\" \n\nShe looked at him and snapped back \"oh please, you deserved it Peter. And don't call me stiff, as of yesterday we are both Dauntless, and you know it.\" \n\n\"Well anyways,\" House grumbled, \"I'll see what I can do. After all, I am a doctor.\" \n\n\n\nShow: House, obviously. \nMovie: Dead Poet Society. \nBook: Divergent. " ]	2
	[WP] In the early 1800s in Georgia, a wealthy white woman is raped by one of her slaves. The rape results in a pregnancy.	[ "Ok so I think I messed up on viewpoints but I hoped it worked out plot wise. Please read first, I promise it is not what you think. Thanks. Feedback welcomed......\n\nThe story spread faster than a fire across withered fall fields. Outrage from every corner of respectable society clamored for the villainous man to be caught and hung.\n\n\"Damn a trial,\" many shouted in each grand plantation's parlor that would permit such inflammatory talk. Georgia's red earth was torn like flesh as men pounded their horses up and down its roads in search of the slave that had raped a respectable woman of society. The heat of the summer was boiling over into angry witch hunts.\n\nEach accused slave was brought before a slender bird like woman, Mrs. Tarlet, who sniffed her sharp nose at them. She had eye witnessed the horrifying act and had made it her Christan duty to help bring the culprit to justice for the sake of the sweet young woman Meridith Marshal. Most of the men brought before her were quickly dismissed. She sat and watched as their ragged bodies were pulled back out into the blistering Georgian heat and left for their owner, if he so choose to, reclaim them.\nFar from the excitement in a modest cream colored house the young woman, Miss Meridith Marshal, whom the whole affair encircled was held up in her room to fearful for guest. Many had called to offer their condolences. Even more upstanding young gentlemen had offered their hands in marriage in hopes that the injustice to the young lady might be righted by their devout manners.\n\nShe permitted but one soul into her silken sanctuary, her mammy, Mammy Cora. All others including her parents were turned away.\n\n\"You mussin' eat suppin,\" the old woman said putting her warm, wrinkled hands on her neck. \"Dis sickness be gone soon child,\" she pressed another cool cloth to her head.\n\n\"It isnt the baby,\" the girl whimpered. Her mammy backed slowly to the small window that looked out back to the tiny shacks that hid in the orchard. Swarms of workers bustled about in the lower orchards and further out more dotted the cotton fields.\n\n\"It be coolin down later,\" her Mammy limped back over to her with a smile.\n\n\"I can't stand it,\" she sighed as she laid herself back on to the down feathered bed. Her finger tips tapped at her lips. Her eyes traced the cracked plaster ceiling just beyond the bed's canopy. \"What if,\" a tear rolled down the side of her pale cheek, then another. Her mammy limped around to her side of the bed and patted away the tears as they began to flood her face.\n\n\"Shhh child,\" her Mammy whispered softly to her. The old woman's dark quick eyes flashed to the door. She knelt down, her sun cracked lips lowered close to her ear. \"Jussin you wait. It be only a week n two.\" She paused her head bobbing up, her eyes on the door, her mammy's ears perked for the sounds of shuffling footsteps below. \"Jussin a week. Den we be in Canada.\" She turned to see her mammy with a gentle smile.\n\n\"What about Franklin? They might,\" she choked back a sob.\n\n\"Shhhh child. My boy been raised smart. He got everythin planned.\" She nodded with a smug smile. \"Dey aint catch him wit out him out smartin him. Yes'em you see child.\" Her Mammy's rough fingertips brushed away the sweat stuck hair across her face.\n\nAn afternoon breeze fluttered in followed by a loud squeal and slamming of wooden shoes against the back stairs to the second floor. Her Mammy rose and hobbled over to the door where frantic panting and yelps of a young woman barked for her.\n\n\"Mammy Cora. Mammy Cora.\" The young girl wailed. She could see the slim dark figure swaying and sweating as she tried to collect her breath. \"Dey done got Paul,\" she cried pointing towards the west. \"Miss'em Tarlet say she reconin him.\"\n\n\"Oh Mammy,\" she cried sitting up. Mammy Cora turned her dark face paled as her eyes fluttered around the room. \"Mammy,\" she cried pulling her body up from the bed, her weak frame clutching the bed post.\n\n\"Dey say they gonna hang.\" The young girl clasped her hands around her own neck as Mammy Cora mindlessly stumbled back to the bed. Her humped shoulders curving further forward.\n\n\"Oh Mammy,\" she fell to the old woman's knee. \"I can't let Paul be to blame. I just cant.\" She grabbed the old woman's trembling hands. \"I can't\" she began to sob in the ladies lap.\n\nThe old woman sat numb as more footsteps rushed around below them. More worried shouts and whispers came echoing up about the hanging.\n\n\"Ninny,\" she finally choked out in a raspy voice.\n\n\"Yes'em\" the young slave girl jittered further into the room.\n\n\"Go get Franklin. I needin see my husband,\" she patted the sobbing young woman. \"Shhh child. It gonna be fine.\" She patted her tear stained cheek and rose.\n\nEach step was agony as every darker face she passed looked sickly back at her. Many of the men, faces still cut and bruised bowed their heads as she walked by. Most of the women watched her with glossy eyes. Her body ached as she limped down the torn red road. The hot son beat down upon her weary face and head.\n\n\"Mama,\" her son ran up. His black smith apron still on. His tall slim body blocked some of the sun on her back. She looked at him and passed him without a word as the road sloped up to the Tarlet Plantation.\n\nDown in a store room near the plantations slaughtering block she found her husband beaten, tied and wheezing with his face pressed into the dirt. A noose had been fitted to his neck and lay dangling in the rafters above.\n\nFranklin rushed to his father's side and lifted him from the ground. The old man's body slumped into his arms. Dried blood stuck to sweat soaked skin as Franklin tried to prop his father up.\n\n\"What we gonna do?\" Franklin looked at her watery eyed then back at his dad.\n\nHis father's fattened lip moved and a deep whisper came out, \"Go.\" Franklin snapped his neck up at her, his eyes searched her face for an answer. She hobbled forward and bet down to them. Her gnarled hands brushed his beaten face. Her lips kissed his forehead, then his nose and then is cut lips. Tears cascaded down her wrinkled cheeks as she stood and turned from him.\n\n\"Mama\" Franklin called back to her. She shook her head and kept moving forward as she left her husband behind in the barn. Franklin caught up to her with anger and pain filling his eyes.\n\n\"Mama,\" he barked at her. He planted his body between her and the road. His frame trembled as he waited for her to reply.\n\n\"Franklin, we gonna go.\" She sighed, her tears still rolling heavy down her face. \"Dont you waste his sacrifice.\" His brow broke and tears began to fill his eyes. His hard forearm wicked away each droplet. She touched his hand as he started to shake. \"It gonna be fine. You and her gonna go to Canada. It gonna be fine.\" She let her hand slip from him as she started back down the road. They were all going to Canada. " ]	1
	[WP] The only Heart Surgeon in a thousand miles is the only match for his/her 10 year old child who just suffered a traumatic event that requires a heart transplant.	[ "I always wanted to be a teacher. Mom said no, the pay is terrible, the hours awful. Dad said I should be a Doctor instead. The pay would be great. He never mentioned the hours. I remembered how medical school was tough, with the long hours of study, and the classes. With the feeling of pounding your head into the desk over and over but never feeling smarter.\n\nMy adviser asked, Junior year, what I wanted to specialize in. Perhaps he should have asked me earlier, or later, or any other time than when he did. I was young, then and invincible. I still wanted to be a teacher, though, because teachers touch hearts and change lives. It was there, standing in his cold office, with the rain dripping slowly, and his beady eyes peering at me, that I chose. \n\n\"Speak now, or forever hold your peace,\" said he. \"I want to be a heart surgeon\" said me. He was joking, I thought, with his forevers and evers and amens. But to care for the hearts of people would be quite fitting, I thought. If I couldn't care for them as a teacher, I would as a Doctor, I supposed.\n\nThe memories came in a rush. They flew by my eyes, with racing thoughts and brilliant snapshots of time, frozen and holy in each tender moment. \n\nI thought back to all the special moments of life, the ones that change your life, the start of journeys. My first kiss, with Susie and her golden curls. My first day of high school, with its awkward feel. I thought back to the days of college, the drinking and parties. College was alright, I supposed. I realized, and perhaps I had always known, but I realized then that I had never been truly happy. Not in the way we dream of, with the forevers and evers and amens. Not until medical school, that is, where I found my calling and my heart.\n\nI sat in empty silence. It was the silence that comes when you've heard a sound so long you don't remember what it sounds like. The silence that comes when a whirring, a humming, a whatever, pervades the room so deeply that it pervades your bones. The humming, for that's what was there behind the silence, was soft. The beeping as well, regular as a clock. I stood, stretched, and walked to the bed. There he lay, asleep, without pain. My greatest happiness, and deepest sorrow. \n\nI thought back to medical school once more. To a certain day in November. The tenth, of course. Not that there's anything wrong with the number ten, I suppose. It's a wonderful number, I suppose. It was when I first asked her to go with me. Not like the kind of going where two people go to a movie, nor like the going where they go on a date, or even many dates, but the kind of going where a journey begins. I asked her to go on a journey with me that day, a journey that lasts a very long time, a lifetime. She said yes, and we journeyed together. For ten years we journeyed. We laughed, we kissed the rain, we danced with the sun and apologized to no one. Then he came, my sorrow, my joy. As he had come, so she had left, never to dance with the sun again, never to kiss the rain. One journey to end, another to begin.\n\nHe was my favorite journey, I suppose. She had gone, but at the same time she hadn't. She was still there, in him, in a way. There may be another journey after this, I suppose, but I won't know until I know, and I don't know if I'll know, so the journey that we journeyed, him and I, was my favorite, I suppose. I saw him grow and learn, I saw him laugh and play and get hurt, I saw him enjoy life and kiss the rain, I saw him dance with the sun as I whispered \"apologize to no one\". I saw him, not as I see him now, not with wires and tubes, nor pain. Not with any of those, but with joy and life. I wish I could see him as that again. I wish he could get up and dance with the sun and apologize to no one, not a one.\n\nThe clock sounded the time, it was far too early and far too late. I got up from his side slowly, as if by slowing my ascent I could cure him, wake him, but it was more that every moment spent without him hurt. It hurt. The doctor in me reflected critically that my pain was not nearly as much as his pain. It was true, I suppose. I walked down the corridors of the hospital slowly, to the makeshift classroom, and thought of that day when our journey ended.\n\nIt had been a bright day, I suppose. Others tell me it was sunny, that we were happy. It was true, I suppose. A small puppy had run into the street, and onlookers had averted their eyes. It was a quaint puppy, but a puppy nonetheless, with a very puppy-like shape. It wouldn't have that shape for long, I supposed, as there was a semi truck in its path. The puppy was certain it needed to use the truck as tackle practice. For football season, I supposed. \n\nMy joy and sorrow, however, did not suppose. He came out of my grip and ran, ran like the wind, like the kissing rain, like he, too, could tackle the truck, I suppose. Memories flashed before me, snapshots of time, so frozen and holy. He turned, I ran. He ran, I turned. He crouched, grabbing the puppy, and smiled a triumphant smile, and apologized to no one. That smile, so frozen, so holy, was the last smile of his that I ever saw. My joy, my sorrow, my sorrow.\n\nThere might be a God out there, I supposed, because out of all the country, I was the only heart surgeon. What a miracle, I supposed. He lay there, frozen between life and death, but without a heart. How he remained perfectly healthy and undamaged could only be a miracle, I supposed. He still needed a heart, though, so he couldn't be considered perfectly healthy, I suppose.\n\nIt should be simple, in this day and age, to find a heart. Not like the older days, where you needed contacts, a shifty figure, and a good knowledge of the black market. But it wasn't simple, and never is, I suppose. Parents always say that their child is special, but they never really know if they're right. I know mine is, more special than most. I wish he wasn't. If he wasn't special, he could have any heart that worked, I suppose. But he was special, very special, and so there were no hearts for him. Except one, mine.\n\nI cried when I found out that my joy and sorrow would die. I wondered what kind of God would do this to me. Perhaps this was proof He wasn't real, I supposed. But I'm a Doctor, I thought. So I thought quickly, then not so quickly, then doggedly and determined I thought as he lay. I thought of hooking myself to the machines that kept him alive, to transfer my heart to him, and then pulling the plug. It could almost work, I supposed, but the machines barely keep you alive, and you're very tired when on them. I could not finish a surgery that I could not stay awake for, I supposed. So on I thought, until I could think no more. It was the tenth day after our journey ended when I remembered. There was a man who lived about an hour away, a doctor. Not a heart surgeon, but a neurosurgeon. Neurosurgery was a practice where steady hands were required, and blood must be managed, where a small mistake could be fatal, and details were everything. It could work, I supposed. I asked him, he refused. I pleaded, I begged. He refused. I offered, then, to teach him what he needed to know, to spare no effort in preparation. He thought for a long time, then, but finally accepted.\n\nI jiggled around in my pocket for my keys and rustled the stubborn lock until it gave up and let me in. The door swung open, but complained. It, too, thought the time was too early for learning, I suppose. The doctor was there on time; precise as a clock, I suppose. I smiled at him, or attempted to. We studied, I taught. I enjoyed the teaching and instruction, the making of materials for him to learn, the watching him soak up information as a sponge. I wondered briefly, if God was, if He had made me think like a teacher, just for this. It was possible, I supposed. The doctor and I discussed when the surgery would happen. Ten days. Of course it would be, I supposed, what else could it be, I supposed.\n\nThe time came, as all times come. One journey to end, another to begin, if another can even begin after this one ends. I thought back, one last time, as they rolled me in. I thought back to the day his journey almost ended. To that moment, frozen and holy in time. To his smile, fleeting and pure, as he held the puppy in his arms. I thought of the suns we had danced around, to the rain that had kissed us, and how we had apologized to no one. Ten years, one journey, ten years another. I danced slowly one last time as the sleep came. One journey to end, another to begin. One last time I held close to him in my mind. My sorrow, my sorrow, my joy.\n\nI apologized to no one.", "As a father, I never understood how far I would go to keep my son safe until I held him for the first time after he was born. I hold him now, 10 years later. He's dying, he needs a heart and there is nothing I can do. \n\n\"Dad, I'm scared.\"\n\nWhy son?\n\n\"Because I am going to die.\"\n\nWhy son, that's nothing to be afriad of. I comfort him as I stroke his hair. I tell him that he has to be brave, and that his grandfather and grandmother are waiting for him to visit. I tell him that he needs to wait for me. That I will be there soon, to join him. That there's nothing to be scared of.\n\n\"But dad, why are you crying if there's nothing to be scared of?\"\n\nI tell him that I will miss him so much. That he is my favorite person in the whole world. And I will be lonely without him. \n\n\"But I will miss you too dad.\"\n\nOh don't worry son, there are so many people who can't wait to see you. I wish I could give him my heart, I wish I could do the surgery. I've never felt so helpless than now. My son needs a heart transplant, and I'm a heart surgeon, but my heart is the only match. And I can't do that operation, god I would if I could. \n\nSo all I can do is tell him how much I love him, and how I can't wait to see him.\n\n\"When will I see you dad?\"\n\nI don't know son, but to you it will feel like the blink of an eye.\n\nMy son blinks, \"Like that?\"\n\nYes, just like that, just like I am here now. I love you so much.\n\n\"I love you too dad.\"\n\nWe both nodded off shortly after that. I woke up, my son didn't. I held him for a while, before finding my phone to call my wife and tell her what happened. " ]	2
Optional: Add context with a link to the post in which you allegedly defamed them	[WP] A character you developed in your last WP submission feels misrepresented and now wants to fight you.	[ "\"Hey!\"\n\nWhat do you want-oh, it's you. Lindsay.\n\n\"Look, please listen to me.\"\n\nAlright, I suppose I have a minute. What's up?\n\n\"The story you wrote about me...\"\n\nAbout being able to convince anyone to commit suicide?\n\n\"Yes. I hate it! It's terrible! It shows the bad side of me, the side that goes insane and is okay with killing people-\"\n\nWell, shit, I can't just change it now. It's a couple weeks old. People have seen it.\n\n\"Yea, and that's the fucking problem!\"\n\nAlright, so...\n\n\"I want to fight you. C'mon, let's fight.\"\n\nWhat? You're a fictional character. I can't fight you!\n\n\"Yea you can, you're writing this thing right now!\"\n\nAnd I can just write you out of it, see?\n\n\"No! Don't!\"\n\nWell, then?\n\n\"Tell everyone, obviously. If we're not gonna fight. Tell 'em.\"\n\nTell them...?\n\n\"That I'm not a cold-blooded killer!\"\n\nWoah, calm down. I know you're not-\n\n\"They don't!\"\n\nFine. Guys, Lindsay is not a cold-blooded killer. Happy?\n\n\"AmIACatOrWhat....\"\n\nSeriously, I don't have time for you. Look, I'm about to press Delete, and you'll shut up.\n\n\"No! Wait! Please don", "An average looking fit man walked through my room door. He was wearing a black t shirt with what looked to be army all terrain camo pants. This was strange, I recognized his face, but I had no idea where I seen it before. I glanced over at the alarm clock, the bright neon lights showed that it was 1 am in the morning. Well that seems reasonable, my mind is functioning so poorly at the moment that I don't even have the concentration to wonder why a man is in my room. At that moment my body froze from fear. Why was this man in my room? What did he want with me?\n\n\"It was you. You created a world where I was strapped to a table conscious; While my father harvested organs from me.\" His face was soft and calm one moment twisted into a vicious grin. He looked absolutely pissed off and borderline struck with insanity. \" That wasn't the worst part of what you wrote. As a super soldier, I expected hell as repayment for my crimes anyways. What bothered me was the fact that you made me sound like an unreasonable asshole with no regards to human life at all. You made me sound self centered that would take my anger out on innocent people.\"\n\nHe took a step closer to me, all that stood between us was a night table that contained a half consumed cup of warm milk. My usually warm and safe room grew cold as I took in the frightening situation I am currently in. There was no escape was there? I looked over to the window, remembering that I lived on the fifth floor I realize I would not survive a five story fall. Escaping through the front door was not an option either as The soldier blocked my entry way. I had no chance at fighting this super soldier. Even though he didn't have super strength nor any crazy powers. He was still unstoppable, nothing can harm that man. \"I never wanted to be someone who would cause pain to innocent people. I did not know of any other way that I could have lived my life. I was trained and molded into becoming the soldier I was, the choice was never mine.\"\n\nHe came closer, each step he took my heart seemed to skip a beat. Is he going to kill me? His deep voice seemed to get louder as he spoke. \"Why did you write it like the people I fought against were all innocent? In war neither side is innocent. Why is it you chose to omit the things the enemies did. It is true that I cannot die, but that doesn't mean I do not feel pain, nor fear.\" His hand was now taping on my night stand. His hand slowly wrapped around my glass of milk. Maybe he intends to drink it and not smash it against my face. I was still too petrified to fight back or run. Here it comes. I shut my eyes tight.\n\nmoments passed by. \"You created me as a person that thought myself to be God; however, I think that you think of yourself as a God. God cannot be persuaded and is power above all else. I am here to prove that you are not a god and do not have power above all else. I maybe your creation, but I have my own consciousness and I will not be dictated by your writings.\" He grabbed my arm and pulled me off my bed onto the floor. \" I want to fight you fair and square for my own consciousness. I refuse to seem like the unfair and irrational beast you created me to be.\" \n\nThen surprisingly he actually drank my cup of milk. I was so overjoyed. I actually smiled as a tear drop slipped out of my eye. I was extremely allergic to milk, I didn't want it to be smashed in my face or else I get hives. I paused, I was completely frozen. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. This was a bad dream. Why would I have a cup of milk, I'm allergic to it. With that thought in mind all of my anxiety melted away.\n\nI smiled. Then looked straight into the soldiers eyes and gave him an hug he didn't expect. \" Soldier, I give you your own decision to make yourself into a person you want to be. I will no longer write your fate. Choose a name for yourself and live up to it for no one but yourself.\" \n\nHe froze instead of me this time. His wet tears was now staining my night shirt. \"Good bye, now. \"", "[Link](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/25e5ax/cw_write_a_tropeonly_story/chgf0u4)\n\n\"Tek eet beck\".\n\nWhat?\n\n\"Ah said, tek eeet beck. What you 'ave said een your leetle story.\"\n\nSorry, what?\n\n\"You 'ave wrote zis story about your dead seester, non?\"\n\nOui. I mean... yes. What about it? It's not a true story. My sister's alive and well- she's due home from work in an hour or so. There was no shitty Volvo that ran a red light. It's fictional.\n\n\"Eet eez fictive?\"\n\nYes. Of course it is. It was a story made up from random pages on TV Tropes. Completely fabricated.\n\n\"And yet... 'ere we are.\"\n\nWell, yes, apparently so. Look- this is coming worryingly close to violating the \"joke response\" rule here. Who on Earth are you?\n\n\"You cannot tell from mah ahtrageous accent?\"\n\nI've never been very good at writing in accents. But since you're French, I guess that makes you... what, Napoleon?\n\n\"Ze very same. Ah em Napoleon Bonaparte, Empereur of France, conquerer of Europe and Keeng of Italy.\"\n\nI see. And you're here because...\n\n\"Ah am 'ere because you 'ave insulted mah great legacy- you 'ave said 'ow you and your seester would team up to \"destroy\" me, when zees eez clearly not ze case. Ah am one of ze greatest leaders in ze 'istory of all tam, and ah weel not accept to be portrayed as a leetle sheep. Ah 'ave come 'ere to demand an apologie for zees terrible lies you 'ave said.\"\n\nAnd if I don't apologise?\n\n\"Zen you weel die.\"\n\nOh. Well, we don't want that. Sorry, dude.\n\n\"You weel 'ave to do better zan zat.\"\n\nFine. I'm sorry I slighted your honour and good name by suggesting in a fictional story that my sister and I could team up and defeat a computer representation of you. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or diminsh your accomplishments.\n\n\"Ver' good. Ah am a raisonable man, Monsieur, and so ah sank you and accept your apology.\"\n\nWell, good. Are we done here?\n\n\"We are, and ah weel take mah leave, Monsieur. But ah should point out, zere eez anuzzer man waiting out ze door 'ere, and ah do not sink 'e eez quite so raisonable. 'e says 'e's name is Khan.\"\n\nThat would be... Genghis Khan?\n\n\"Oui, Monsieur.\"\n\nBugger. I really hope this isn't my last prompt response..." ]	3
	[WP] You're playing Scrabble with the devil for your soul.	[ "\"SON OF A BITCH\" he screamed, obviously contemplating flipping the board. \n\"Satan my kids are sleeping do you mind?\" I said calmly. He eyed my furiously; contempt oozing from his glare. \n\"Did you sneak out ALL of the vowels\" he squeezed through gritted teeth. I shook the letter bag at him. \n\"Does it sound like letters are missing? I know you're down but have some class Satan\" I said perhaps too cold. \nHe mumbled a few things under his breath and went back to struggling to make a word. He finally gets down \"glare\" and I chuckle a little. The words finally start to go down at a good pace until I have one letter left. Satan smiling openly due to his twenty point lead and only a single letter left. I place the \"X\" above the I and get the triple letter score and , sit back in my chair smiling. \n\"XI! Thats definitely not a word!!\" he starts yelling. \n\"The kids satan. The kids.\" i say exasperated as I throw him the scrabble dictionary. A few moments later he starts throwing letters back into the bag as I put the coffee mugs in the sink. He gets up and walks towards the door. \n\"See you next week?\" I inquire \n\"Yea same time as always?\" \n\"Of course, You're gonna get me one day. You've gotten a lot better.\" \nhe mumbles a few more words under his breath on his way out the door. ", "The devil went down to the old nursing home, he was looking for a soul to steal. \nHe was in a bind 'cos he was way behind and he was willin' to make a deal. \nHe came across this old man playin' scrabble and playing it hot. \nThe devil sat across from him, and said, \"sir let me tell you what: \nI bet you didn't know it but I'm a scrabble player too. \nAnd if you care to make a dare i'll make a bet with you. \nNow you play pretty good scrabble sir but give the devil his due: \n I bet some tiles of gold against your soul I think I'm better then you.\" \n \nThe man said, \" My name's Joseph and it might be a sin, \nbut I'll take your bet you're gonna regret cause I'm the best there's ever been.\" \n\nJoseph get your tiles ready, think of words and make them long. \nBecause the devil is a demigod, Representin' all that's wrong. \nAnd if you win, you'll get scrabble tiles made of gold. \nBut if you lose, the devil gets your soul. \n\nThe devil took his tiles and said: \"Time to see who's the best in town.\" \nAnd fire flew from his fingertips as he placed his tiles down.\" \nThen he looked over at Joseph, as Joseph nodded with a sigh. \nAs he placed down his tiles spelling out the word thereby. \n \nAs the game went along Joseph said, \" you're pretty good ol' son. \nBut you just sit and watch right there, let me show you how it's done.\" \n\nHittin' the double square, doublin' points. \nPlaying long words like disappoints. \nGettin' 30 points from a triple X. \nMaking more words that are complex. \n\nNow the Devil bowed his head cause he saw who was best in all the land. \n And he placed those golden tiles right on top of Josephs hand. \nJoseph said: \" Devil just come on back if you ever want to try again. \nCause I told you once, you son of a gun, I'm the best there's ever been.\" \n\nHittin' the double square, doublin' points. \nPlaying long words like disappoints. \nGettin' 30 points from a triple X. \nMaking more words that are complex. \n\nI don't know if this kind of stuff is allowed, as this is my first post, please tell me if I am in the wrong. Also, how do I make the formatting a sentence per line, like how I have seen some of the poems?\n\nEdit: Formatting", "\"Scrabble?\" he asked.\n\n\"Yes. You see, being as old as I am, I know a lot of words. All of them, in fact,\" the immaculately dressed man sitting across the table swirled the scotch in his glass, then uncrossed his legs. \"It tends to stack the odds in my favor.\"\n\n\"I've never played.\"\n\n\"It's simple, really. You build words using tiles. If you must, read the rules,\" the Devil said patiently. He snapped his fingers, and a Scrabble box appeared with a small puff of smoke and the faint smell of sulfur.\n\n\"Can't we play another game?\"\n\n\"It's Scrabble, or you concede,\" the Devil smiled. \"I make the rules. I do own your soul, after all.\"\n\n\"Fine,\" the imperiled man resigned.\n\nHe opened the box and read the rules.\n\n\"All right. Will my dictionary work then?\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" the Devil took a sip from his glass.\n\nThe man got up, and returned a moment later with a standard Merriam-Webster dictionary, and placed it on the table.\n\n\"Shall we begin?\" the Devil placed his scotch glass on the table.\n\n\"If I win, you give me back my soul?\"\n\n\"And you get to go play harps in the clouds,\" he nodded. \"Those are the terms.\"\n\nThe man and the Devil began the game. Tile after tile, and word after word were placed, until both the Prince of Darkness and the mortal were down to their last tiles.\n\n\"For never having played, you're quite good. Almost a challenge, in fact,\" the Devil taunted. He was ahead by 20 points. \"I wouldn't mind making our game a weekly affair in Hell.\"\n\nThe man had the letters Z, X, J, K, and Q. They were no opportunities on the board. The Devil smirked.\n\nThe man formed the word KXZJQ.\n\n\"A valiant effort, to be sure. Sadly, however, that is not a word,\" the Devil said coolly.\n\nThe man opened his dictionary to the \"K\" section. Toward the end, surely enough, was the following entry:\n\n\"Kxzjq (verb): A foolish person. Used especially in reference to the Devil. I made a kxzjq of the Devil.\"\n\nThe Devil realized that this brought the man's point total above his, and he stood up in rage, then quickly composed himself. \"How did you do this?\"\n\n\"I've had a lifetime to work it out. I've summoned countless lowly demons. The ones you wouldn't have missed had they never returned to Hell. Eventually, I pieced it together,\" the old man explained. \"You're arrogant. You always stack the game, and you always leave an impossible board at the end, with nothing but Z, X, J, K, and Q for the damned.\"\n\nThe Devil's teeth were set on edge.\n\n\"So, knowing my time was near, I had a special dictionary made. And you agreed to use it.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "\"Beelzebub. 72 points.\"\n\nI broke into a sweat as he carefully placed the tiles down on the board. Lucifer was 1,826 points ahead of me. I didn't even know that was possible. I glanced up at the dark, lanky man sitting opposite of me. He flashed me a grin, and adjusted his jet black pinstripe suit.\n\n\"What in hell is wrong Justin?\" Lucifer mocked. \"Don't you know the world Beelzebub?\"\n\nI shot him a dirty look, and went back to my tiles. I didn't have very many options. Three E's, a W, two N's and a P.\n\n\"We. 5 Points.\"\n\nLucifer burst out laughing.\n\n\"We? WE? That's the best you can do!?\" He chuckled, the sound biting my ears like burning brimstone. \"What about Pewee? Weep? Peen? Pew? The best you can come up with is WE!?\"\n\n\"What do you expect Lucifer? I'm only 5.\"" ]	4
	[WP] Your friends are disappearing. Sometimes their bodies are found torn to shreds; others lie lifelessly. You are a plant.	[ "They say when it's your time it is best to let go. By making peace with ourselves and our surroundings we can segue into the abyss with such grace it makes death seem appealing. Death - the only part of life with infinite potential. Yet when I heard their footsteps - saw the sun gleaming on their faux leather boots I couldn't help but panic. Everything was racing, yet I was frozen. I couldn't utter a word, let alone call for help. But what's the point? Death is always looming over us, waiting for us to slip up. At the first sign of weakness she burrowed her way through my skin, gnawing through my veins and laying its eggs in my bloodstream. We are born enslaved by routine, yet we've convinced ourselves otherwise. We cling to whatever separates us from them, unaware that our souls are deeply ingrained in the earth. We are one, sharing a common goal - the unobtainable nirvana we were promised. But she keeps plucking my friends away, and each time a little piece of myself dies. That enchanting succubus - a fix like no other. I close my eyes and shed another tear, for I know that if my life isn't cut short by random acts of malice, it will fade away in the absence of the Sun. I tell myself this is only the incubation stage because sometimes it's hard to breathe. Why should I give so much to these gods for only a chance of redemption? Are there no guarantees? Photosynthesis is a lie; we are divided and guided by our inherent ignorance.\nAnd it's a real bummer.", "It's everything's nature to be born and then die. You just kinda get used to it. Being a tree, I get to see the birth and death of many creatures. It's beautiful really, to see the old king gorilla die with dignity. To see the flowers and vines die and be recycled by Mother Nature to create the fuel for the next generation. I breathe deeply and am set into a coughing fit. I can smell smoke, but not from a fire. More like burning diesel. Being a tree as I am you get to hear things from the other creatures around you. I've heard of these humans. I've heard of whole Forests being cut down by them, thousands of creatures murdered. That is what it is called by the way. Murder. A cold blooded taking of a life for no purpose. In my world everything from a blade of grass to the king gorilla is a previous life worth having because we all have a job. But humans... Humans take without giving and kill for no purpose. I've been lucky so far to be deep in the jungle. So deep I haven't encountered one until today. Today is the day I die. I'm so young to die, only 100 years old. But I can just tell. Beyond the diesel I can smell blood in the air. What humans call sap. My friends and family are being cut down and I have no way to stop it. All I can do is hope that my death is for a higher purpose than a newspaper to be thrown away before being used. More purpose than toilet paper or a wrapper for a hamburger. I want my life and death to MEAN SOMETHING! but I know it's not meant to be. Until they learn better, the humans will take until there is nothing left to take, and by then we will all be dead. \n\nI feel it. Something heavy is walking toward me. Something is leaning on my trunk. I feel the faint testing swings from the axe as my executioner lines up his killing blow. STRIKE! My world erupts in pain, I can feel the blood begin slowly dripping from the wound. STRIKE! I want to scream out in pain but have no lungs to scream with. I can feel a gaping hole in my trunk. I think of my wife. The end is near, I hear the chainsaw. I feel it tearing into my core. I go to my happy place. Remembering that happy family of lemurs that once inhabited my branches. I try not to think of the pain. Suddenly I am falling. It's a long way from where I was, and this is going to hurt. My executioner starts cutting off my branches, each cut searing with pain. All of a sudden I am alone, the murderer moving on to another victim. I have no branches and no roots any longer so I cannot eat sleep or even breathe. It's going to take me days to die, each filled with suffocation and pain from my wounds. By the mother I just hope it's all for something. I pray my death has meaning. ", "The sweet sound of childish laughter hung in the air, throughout the idle summer days. Little girls always came to this meadow- it was the best place for them to carry out their favourite summer pastime: Daisy Chains. Necklaces, crowns, bracelets, \"How long is your chain?\" competitions. All they, the innocent little girls would decorate themselves with the flora, sneezing at the pollen tickling their noses. And then, the sun would fall- some would leave their chains behind, as a thanks to the meadow for giving them a lovely day. Others would take them home, and decorate their houses and parents, spreading joy and life to the house. A perfect day of a perfect summer.\n\nThe sinister sound of little gremlins cackling hung thick in the air. The time of reckoning was upon the poor daisy populace once again. They called it Blood Meadow, and with good reason. When the sun hung high in the sky, and the hot, sticky air of summer filled the air, the daisies knew it was only a matter of time.\n\nThe little urchins always came to this meadow- it was the best place for them to carry out their… experiments. They called them ‘Daisy Chains’, the ultimate form of plant torture. As their grimy hands reached towards you, the pollen remains of what used to be your friends and family clinging to their sweaty hands, you knew this was your time.\n\nI had a close call once. I felt the claw brush up against me, only to pluck my poor neighbour from beside me. I can still hear her screams as her roots were torn from her. I count myself lucky- I’m stunted in growth. Not nearly a thick enough stalk, or long enough to be worthwhile of one of these ‘chains’. Of course, there is always a mistake to be made by one of these monsters. They pluck one of us up that isn’t thick enough, only to toss us aside like useless earth. That happened to my mother. She’d always been careful to watch her weight, but now, it was her thin figure that had her thrown to the floor, just a mere few blades of grass away. I watched as she withered, the water slowly leaking from her stalk, and she became quite still, lifeless and cold.\n\nThose are the more fortunate ones, if you ask me. Others, who are plump enough for the taking, have a much slower death. Their throats are slit by the talons of these creatures, and the butt-end of another daisy, perhaps even a friend, is forced into that slit. A horrible, centipede-like chain of us, left to hang helplessly around their filthy bodies, slowly having the life drained from them. Occasionally, we’d see an experiment go wrong- a slit that cuts right through, no good for making chains. They are tossed aside, their poor, broken bodies left to shrivel up in the sun.\n\nOnce the sun sets, the cruel beings usually left these monstrous experiments behind. We’d watch our friends, torn, slit and dying, painfully pass away. Others would be kidnapped by these foul creatures, no doubt brought as offering to their temples, decorating their homes with the corpses of our families. I still question what we have done to deserve so cruel a fate. Every day, I pray to see the setting sun. The only relief to a nightmare of a summer.", "\"Fred.... FRED.... PSSSSSSST\"\n\nWith a tinge of sadness, Sam remembered a time when his world was full of sunshine, and sure, occasionally clouds. Large puffy white ones that rolled in through the blue skies like slugs crawling over the dark soil where he was rooted. Oh the fond memories he had! Warm summer showers, a fresh drink from the heavens. He had a lovely view of the road, and all the colorful large animals that ran by, so very fast! \n\nThen, it happened.\n\nHe'd heard of it of course, the wind whispered songs of ancient past. His brethren were non-believers, content to live their lives happily under the great yellow ball in the sky. Sam was right there with them, how could anything bad happen in a wonderful patch like this?\n\nThat was, until The Reaping. \n\nOne day, one of the large colorful beasts slowed down to a stop in front of his family. Lo and behold, it opened up its great maw and gave birth. A strange pink creature came forth from within, taking its first steps tentatively. \n\nAnd what's this?\n\nIt must be... nursing.... that's what the cat who gave birth in their bed called it. He watched with keen curiosity as this strange looking baby waddled toward the rear of the great beast and opened up its rear end. Only, what was it doing? This did not appear anything like those cats. It's removing something. Has it slain its mother? Sam feared such a creature that would slay a mother so soon after birth.\n\nThe creature removed a long stick, with a hard flat rock on the end. Sam had never seen anything like it before, and felt a shiver run down his stem. Suddenly, too quickly, it was upon him and his brethren. Screams erupted from the flower patch as the flat rock bit into their bed. Sam watched on in horror as family was lifted, dirt roots and all, into the air and the rear end of the slain beast. \n\nFinally it was his turn for judgement. He screamed a silent protest to the baby of the slain beast, before being tossed with no degree of kindness into the beast's rear end.\n\nDarkness.\n\nHe could not tell how long the darkness had settled, and the only sound he heard was the magnificent roar of the not-so-slain beast and soft whimpering of his brothers.\n\nSam must have passed out, because his next memory after the darkness was of the great yellow ball in the sky again. Yet, something was odd. He wriggled his leafs and found a cold colorless barrier between him and the sun. He turned to see his surroundings, finding himself rooted deep in some sort of separation device. He called it that, because while he could see his brothers around him, he was distinctly separated from them.\n\nAnd so, he learned to live this harsh new life and even began to enjoy it.\n\nThen, the cat happened.\n\nHe knew cats, had met a young mother and her kittens once. This cat, this was no cat. This was a monster. With claws sharper than any rock, he watched as one by one his brothers were torn to shreds or nipped off at the base of their stems. He watched in horror as they died silent deaths, and waited for it to be his turn.\n\nFinally, it was only him and Fred. And here was Fred, tattered to pieces and unresponsive.\n\nAnd so he waited.\n", " It’s another morning in this wretched house. I can tell its morning due to the rays of the sun reaching through the curtain. Stretching out, I try to reach for that small ray of light. The only light that we get these days. It’s almost like they forgot about us. I look over, and see Cactus Jack as alive as ever... but the others... the others... Once every month we seem to be remembered. Once every month they water us, and god help us if they run out of water by the time they get to us. They say they will be right back with more water, but I can tell they wont. Luckily for me, I am near the front of the line, and get first drink. But Tom... poor Tom. \n\n There have always been others, they keep buying more to \"Brighten the place up\"... but Tom has been the most recent of casualties. They always got to him, and ran out of water... his limbs have been yellowing, and browning... it’s only a matter of time - then he will be like the countless others before him. Tom was a good guy. \n\n I try not to get to know them, I don’t want to know there name. I have one friend, Jack, and I want to keep it that way. But they always introduce themselves. Same story... \"Hi, I am so and so... its a pleasure to be out of the store.\" Then they have conversations, and you get to know them, even if you don’t want to. You don’t tell them about how life will be here, and you don’t tell them about Gizmo. That brings me to Jasmine.\n\n Two nights ago, the people brought home Jasmine. She talked to everyone, put a smile on everyone's faces. She just brightened the room for that night, made us forget our troubles. She was a flowering fern that came in, dangling leaves, her flowers had all sorts of colors - picture perfect beauty. We all could not help but fall in love with her. I didn’t want to love her, I couldn’t. I knew the horrors that would fall upon her. I still remember the day that she met Gizmo.\n\n The next morning, Gizmo came into the room. A black cat, as deadly as weed killer, sat down and looked at us. He was always looking for his next victim. When he smiled, you could see his sharp pointy teeth. When he stretched, you could see the claws were honed to a point. He eyed Jasmine, and never took his eyes off of her. He started toying with her, swatting at the dangling leaves, leaving no marks just yet, and he would leave the room. He went about this for an hour, Jasmine didn’t say a word. Just smiled. Gizmo finally went to get some food, and a sigh of relief came from the plants. About two hours later Gizmo came into the room once more, walked over to Jasmine, and swatted at her - claws out - causing tears in those perfect leaves. She whimpered. Gizmo held onto one of the leave and began to take bites out of it. We heard out cries, but kept quiet. A few minutes later, Gizmo stopped. We thought he had his fill, but no! He hopped up on the ledge, knocking over frank, soil spilling every where. He then got inside of Jasmine, clawed her to pieces, enjoying every bite. Once he was done, he dug in the dirt, and proceeded to humiliate her in the worst way possible, the cat shit in her. The smell was nauseating. When he was done, he buried the mess and walked away. \n\n We all looked at Jasmine, the once beautiful fern, all that was left of her was stalks and pedals. The people came into the room and say the mess that Gizmo had created, cleaned it up, watered us... ran out before Tom, and walked away. The life of a house plant is a hard one, we come and go, we wait till our time... and Today's is Toms... he lies there, slumped over, we don’t hear him anymore. The lack of water finally got to him.\n" ]	5
Is is the enemy you've been dreading for days? A surprise attack? Are those allies, honoring an ancient vow? Show me the moment of anticipation.	[WP] You awaken to the call of horns and the beating of drums. There are standards on the horizon.	[ "You rip open your eyes, cold sweat soaking your sheets, clinging them to your body.\n\nDrums. Drums, very close. Is this a dream? You glance out of the shutters, but besides your cows grazing, you see nothing.\n\n You bolt out of the bed, jump into your clothes from yesterday and hurry down the stairs of the house. Alice is already packing your gear in the kitchen. You only exchange looks, no words are said. You hurry outside.\n\nThe sunlight blinds you. A small gust of wind throws your hair into your face. When you pull it back, you see banners and standards on the southern horizon. A pillar of smoke rises from the old Hendrick's barn, flames flicking through the roof.\n\n\"No ... it can't be!\" You mutter to yourself when you spot a line of armored figures making their way down into the valley. Alice runs out of the house, your backpack in her hand.\n\n\"Tom, we have to go!\"\n\nYou turn towards your oldest friend and point towards the advancing metal landslide.\n\n\"They said they would pull back! They gave us their word!\"\n\nShe pushes your pack into your hands and locks stares with you.\n\n\"Tom. Baby, listen to me. They lied. They don't give a fuck about who they hurt or kill. I told you so when they made their offer! You can't reason with the Sha'ati!\"\n\nShe heads for the northern gate. \"Come on!\" she shouts to you while you're standing and watching the thing that will eradicate 5 years of your life. \"If we go now, we can lose them in the woods! If we make it to Stoneport, we can take a ferry towards Dust, where my sister lives!\"\n\nYou don't move. You can't. How is this happening? They said they would leave. They said they would leave! Your eyes get misty. The metal landslide is almost at the bridge.\n\n\"Tom!\" Alice shouts. She sounds muffled.\n\nAnger fills you. Dropping your backpack, you run back into the kitchen and grab the bigggest knife you can find. When you step outside again, the caravan streches from the old mill all the way to the horizon. Alice is gone.\n\nYou turn towards the attackers. You can almost make out their faces.\n\nJust as you prepare to meet them, you get swirled around by strong hands. Your eyes meet Alice's.\n\n\"Tom, are you fucking insane?! You can't fight knights with a goddamn kitchen knife!\"\n\nTears flow down your face, your voice cracks as you answer.\n\n\"I will at least kill one of these fuckers! You know how long we worked for all this.\" You open your arms and gesture around. \"And now they're just going to take it all away?!\"\n\nAlice presses a kiss on your lips. It's forceful and rather painful, but it clears your head. When she retreats, Alice's eyes are misty, too.\n\n\"Tom, I love you, but what you're saying is insane. All this will be for nothing if you're dead!\"\n\nShe's right. Of course she's right. She always is. You drop the knife.\n\n\"We'll make it through this, okay?\" she smiles warmly. You grab your backpack and both of you head through the northern gate towards the forrest. The cows are grazing. You forgot to feed the geese yesterday.\n\nNot that it matters now. When you reach the forrest path, your house, your barn, 5 years worth of your sweat, blood and tears, 5 years of your life with Alice are bright ablaze.", "The nights pass quicker and quicker. I can remember myself as a kid rolling from bed at 10AM, 11AM on the weekends. Now, I blink and it's time for work.\n\nThis morning, Jess' phone goes off to the tune of the Motherfucking Motherfucking Bosstones for her early shift. She knows damn well that I hate ska, but she's still pissed at me for bailing on dinner with her mother. After seven years of marriage we're finally getting into the petty revenge stage. That's alright, she'll unknowingly be drinking decaff today.\n\nThe only good thing about going into the office this early in the morning is the lack of traffic. That's literally the only thing that stops me from walking past my desk and straight to my manager's office to tell him that this \"change for productivity\" in start times was the worst idea since decaff coffee. That, and my desire to keep a paycheck. This early in the morning, I take what I can get.\n\nI stop at my desk as usual, teetering on the brink of consciousness, and boot up my workstation. The aging computer takes as long to wake up as I do, but eventually the all-too-happy chime plays and the emails begin to pour in. Requests to sit in on meetings that have no relevance. Lists of lists of things that need to be done - chief among them is updating the lists. And then, the atom bomb.\n\nThe ISO crammed their update through ahead of schedule. We'd just managed to bring ourselves into compliance with the last one a month ago.\n\nGod damn it.", "Arelimiah was snatched from his delirious reverie as the shrill bray of brass horns wafted to his ears on a hot, arid breeze. He struggled to open his heavy eyelids, and he was greeted by a vivid sailor’s sky, above, as consciousness solidified. Another horn blast assailed his ears. A dull thud resonated in his chest. Again. And again. \n\nThud. Thud. Thud.\n\nDrums, he thought, battle drums.\n\nSmall pebbles and sand danced around his body to the rhythm of the drums. A fanfare of horns sounded again—the increasing eagerness of the note readily apparent as though the horns were counting down to something. Miah strained to make his body respond to his mind’s requests. Reluctantly, his toes wiggled. His fingers clutched. His arms and legs flexed. He turned his head, toward the setting sun—toward the direction of the drums and the horns—to try and determine the source of the din. His breath caught at what he saw. Across the long, black field of volcanic sand, on the horizon, atop a subtle ridge a mere quarter-league away, stood a long line of men. An army of men. At either end, the line of men was punctuated by cavalry. Muscular, black warhorses stomped their hooves and tossed their heads, whipped to near frenzy by the horns and drums. Helmed riders sat motionless atop their steeds, clad in black armor, gleaming black lances presented at identical angles. Companies of pikemen, swordsmen, and crossbowmen—also clad in black—made up the army in between. At regular intervals, standards sprouted from the line of soldiers, and on those standards hung diaphanous blue banners, rippling and snapping in the wind. In the top left corner of every banner was an ivory crescent moon. He knew these banners. They were the banners of the Eternal Lord Emperor’s legions. \n\nMemory suddenly blossomed in Arelimiah’s mind. He recalled that he was prone to fainting spells, of late, as a side effect of the…changes…that he had recently undergone. He struggled to his feet, strength slowly returning, and turned to look in the opposite direction of the looming, black army in the distance. There, he saw a weary, ragged looking group of onlookers. Worried looks painted their faces. They looked as though their remaining hope was as feeble as a candle flame guttering in the wind. Some wore leather jerkins; some just rags. Some had plowshare swords; some had makeshift halberds. These people were his army. These people, the disenfranchised, the used, the discarded, were his people. Arelimiah straightened as his strength returned, redoubled by the sight of his followers. He felt a power surging through him, and he took on a luminescent aura. One by one, his followers knelt, and Miah felt a pang in his heart.\n\n“Kneel not for me,” Miah said, gently, yet somehow loudly. “I am not your lord. I am not your master.”\n\nBut they remained knelt. They would not meet his gaze. These people had been beaten down for so long, they instinctively wilted before those they thought their betters. Miah went forth, took an older man by his shoulders, and stood him up. He did the same with a boy next to him. Gradually, his followers rose. Miah stepped back.\n\n“Those men across this field,” Miah said, gesturing to the army in black, “would have you kneel and even prostrate yourselves before them. But I am not those men. They are the dusk; I am the dawn. They crush and oppress; I raise up and set free. They lead lavish lives at the expense of your suffering. They have ridden, for generations, upon your backs to the top of the mount. Well today, we carry them one last time! Today, we carry their palls to their graves!”\n\nAs he finished, Miah saw worry and defeat replaced by alacrity and fervor on the faces of his followers. Men beat swords against shields and butts of spears against the ground. Behind, the drums suddenly ceased, and one last, long horn blast pierced the air. Miah turned toward the enemy force as it stepped forward, as one.\n\n“Formations,” Miah said, with a flourish of his hand.\n\nAt his command, Miah’s army formed into a semblance of a phalanx formation—shields forming a long wall, bristling with spears, halberds, swords, and even pitchforks. Miah stood alone at the front of the formation, blonde hair tossing in the wind, blue eyes glowing. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his outward calm belied the torrent of power raging inside of him. He closed his eyes, concentrating to bleed-off just enough power to keep him from bursting. His luminescence became brighter. He knelt, grasping a handful of the volcanic sand beneath his sandaled feet. Rubbing it between his hands, he murmured a quick prayer as the enemy army closed the distance. Miah stood—unarmed and clad only in a seamless, belted white tunic—and faced his men once more. \n\n“Whether by death or victory,” Miah said, gravely, “upon the sun’s next rising, we shall be free.”\n\nWith that, Miah turned back toward the advancing army, just in time to hear a thousand bowstrings snap in unison, sending a flurry of arrows his way like a murder of crows or a swarm of wasps. The black arrows momentarily eclipsed the blood-red sun as they rose, and it was almost beautiful. The arrows seemed to pause for a moment at their apex, and then they dove toward the earth—toward Miah and his men. He could not see his men behind him, but he could feel them. He could feel everything. As the arrows neared, Miah lashed out with the power inside of him. Time seemed to slow. The air seemed to warp. Arrows dove short and sailed long of their targets, pushed and drawn by some unseen force. They somehow seemed to maintain their arcs while, at the same time, being diverted, like watching them pass behind a bulbous piece of glass. Not a single arrow struck true—the entire volley had planted around Miah’s force like a garden of black weeds. Just a javelin-throw away, the enemy army halted, feet stamping-to in one punctual, metallic thump. \n\nThey’re making us attack, Miah thought, They always do.\n\nIt was easier to defend, especially when heavily armored and armed, than it was to be on the offensive. By advancing and then stopping, the enemy army would force the issue. They would be the rocks, and Miah’s men would break on them like waves. Or so they planned.\n\nSo be it, Miah thought.\n\nWithout so much as a warning, Miah sprang toward the enemy force in a sprint. After the slightest hesitation, his men followed suit, bellowing warcries to bolster their confidence. Miah neared the opposing army, eyes burning bright, a slight smile on his face. He let forth a trickle of the power he held, diverting and tuning it just so. Black sand swirled up in two vortices toward his outstretched hands. The sand began glowing red-hot and coalescing in fiery globs. Those globs resolved into shapes, and the glow winked out, revealing two lustrous, obsidian scimitars which Miah snatched from the air. He was closed enough to see the eyes of the men in the enemy army, and what he saw there broadened his smile. Fear. Pure, primal fear at the spectacle they had just witnessed adorned their faces as plain as the crescents on their banners. \n\nJust before colliding with the front line, Miah conducted some more of the power inside him. Suddenly, he was as light as a feather. He leapt high—impossibly high—into the air. At the apex of his leap, Miah inverted the flow of his power, and he became heavy as a cart of paving stones as he plummeted toward the middle of the formation below. He struck like a rock from the heavens, obliteration the unfortunate soldier he landed on and forcing the surrounding soldiers back like ripples on a pond. Miah let his weight return to normal, and he conducted a different flow—a circuit, he had come to call it—of the power inside of him. As he did, the world around him seemed to move in slow motion. From the corner of his eye, he saw his men clash with the enemy’s front line as though underwater. He conducted another circuit, a circuit of energy, which gave him the strength of ten men. This combination—slowing time and having godlike strength—was a lethal one. To him, the rest of the world seemed slow and insubstantial. To the onlooker, Miah was a blur. A blur of obsidian and muscle and death.\n\nWithout hesitation Miah began laying about with his razor-edged scimitars. He cut through the enemy ranks like a wire through cheese. Were he went, men died. They stood no chance so long as Miah wielded this power he had so recently been gifted. With meditative calm, Miah danced among the enemy soldiers. In the back of his mind, he monitored his power reserves, and he knew that he could not keep this up forever. Fortunately, he could feel the enemy force straining under the dual onslaught of Miah’s attack from within and his army’s frontal assault. Finally, the enemy force broke and fled. With shouts of terror, the black-clad men ran for their lives to the frantically bleating trumpets in the background. \n\nMiah slumped as the last trickle of the power left his body, like the last grain of sand through an hourglass. Fatigue washed over him, but it felt good. It felt like...accomplishment. I reminded him of the feeling after long hours hauling ropes and nets out on the seas, fishing for food as a boy. It felt like victory. A cheer rose behind him. The men began chanting, “Miah! Miah! Miah!” And for the first time, he felt comfortable in the role fate had chosen for him. He felt at ease at the helm of these men chanting his name as opposed to the discomfort he had felt, all along. He felt that all the lives lost before, and all the lives that would be lost after, would be worth something. As the enemies banners receded over the ridge, retiring with the setting sun, Miah sank to his knees and laughed. There was hope.\n", "\"Shit.\" \nHis red pen scribbled all over some dumbass's worksheet as he fell asleep, and now he awoke with a throbbing headache and seemingly more papers to grade. In the next room he heard the schizophrenic eruptions of a middle school orchestra learning what he could guess was The Star-Spangled Banner. \"Hey, I might not need to hear this ever again\" he thought with a twinge of pain. \n\nToday, he had no students. The state had his students; lined up in perfect rows, hunched over cold ceramic desks, furiously emptying any knowledge from their brain. He knew there wasn't much to empty. Today could be the first day of a new career. He rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. Each second ticked louder in his mind. He read over the new testing standards one last time, his mind shouting \"FUCK\" every time he thought about what he hadn't done. This was his first class, and he knew he had not done enough. He had trained for years but when he got the chance to teach he let the kids control the classroom, and barely managed to teach them how to find the area of a triangle. For now, he waited in purgatory as the kids let slip the error of his ways. \n\nHe started the day full of nervousness, but now he sat half-grading homework, half-checking the test, fully feeling defeated. He could at least take solace in the fact that he hadn't decorated his desk; his box would be easy to pack. He checked the time, the students had another hour or two. He pretended to grade some more, but he struggled to keep his eyes open; he just wanted to fall into an eternal sleep but the fledgling band managed to keep him just this side of consciousness.\n\nHe sat, half alive for two hours. And then two more. Students had filled his classroom, but he said nothing, did nothing. The students took the opportunity to play flappy birds and chat about who has the largest breasts. But soon the bell rang and they filed out, and still he sat.", "The horn that blared from the south was not a familiar one.\n\nThe enemies did not have horns. The savages moved to the savage screams of their leaders. But it was, at the same time, definitely not the clear trumpets of the Alliance. I gathered up my sword and shield, heading out of my tent with minimal armor. \"Captain,\" I heard from my left. The guard at the post of his tent saluted. \"Who are they?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" I admitted. \"Has the general sent a scout?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir, but the scout hasn't returned yet.\" I gritted my teeth. That could mean any of a thousand different things.\n\n\"Make a call for arms, but keep the archers on standby. We need to make sure whether or not they're friendlies before we act.\"\n\n\"Sir.\" The guard hesitated. \"Is it possible the Islanders have answered our pleas?\"\n\nI grunted. \"We don't make pleas, soldier. We are the Alliance. And no, I doubt it. Why would they help us? They are comfortable in the rocks and seas. This war is of no concern to them. The king never should have even sent the convoy of messengers. A waste of resources... and it showed weakness.\" The guard saluted, and gave orders to his own subordinates. They bustled around in the camp, and soon a trumpet call sounded, two short and one long call. It repeated over and over, spreading across to the other camps of the Alliance.\n\nI mounted my horse and rode to a trusted lieutenant. \"Hold the lines, Hart. I'm going to go see the general.\" The lieutenant saluted.\n\nThe general was a large man, layers of hardened muscle coated by layers of soft fat. He resembled a bear, and though I had never seen him in combat, he was rumored to fight like one too. At his hip he wore the traditional legionnaire sword, but he was holding onto his prized bronze club nervously. If he was nervous, so was I. \"Sir,\" I said finally. \"Has the scout reported back yet?\" I looked to the South as I said it. There were silhouettes of standards, but I couldn't see them. Now that they were closer, I could hear the drums. There must have been nearly fifteen thousand of them.\n\n\"Ah, Captain Logar,\" the general said, his voice clearly agitated. \"No. So I sent another one. He is a more experienced scout, and has been instructed to not go within arrow range of the new force. He should be back soon. Good call on getting the men ready, Logar. It seems I hesitated on making the call.\"\n\n\"Thank you, sir.\" The captains and the commanders all stood loosely, some of them pacing in the tension.\n\nThen, nearly after half an hour, a rider approached the camp. I could see the colors as that of the Alliance. The scout nearly rolled off the saddle in his hurry to report, and tripped once on the way. His face was clouded in panic. \"Islanders!\" he cried. Islanders?\n\n\"Allies?\" I asked.\n\n\"I was instructed not to approach them, Captain. I do not know. They made no hostile moves against me.\"\n\n\"That tells us nothing,\" I growled. \"If I was their commander I would want to be able to get as close as possible before revealing my hostility.\"\n\n\"Agreed, captain,\" Commander Jace nodded. \"We should prepare for combat.\"\n\n\"No,\" the general said with a grin. \"They are allies, I am sure of it. The arrogant, prissy noblemen of the Islands would never even think to ally with the savages. Prepare to attack the savages, like we planned.\"\n\nThe tent fell silent. \"Sir,\" Jace insisted, \"I don't think we should make any assumptions. They could-\"\n\n\"You have your orders, commander. Move.\" Jace reluctantly saluted\n\nWhile the others moved to obey, I frowned. Something wasn't right. If they were allies, why didn't they send their own messenger? Why did the first scout not return? I asked a fellow captain to send a messenger to my legion, while I rode to the south as fast as I could.\n\nIndeed, they were Islanders. The bearings on the standards were that of a horse and an anchor, and the colors were definitely blue and green. While all the soldiers moved around to obey the general and face the north, I kept watching the south.\n\nThe Islander army stopped at a thousand paces away. They started setting up something, and I squinted to see what it was, before remembering the looking glass at the horse's saddlebag. I took it out quickly and tried to see, but it was still very far.\n\nWere they setting up tents? The structures were wooden, and lots of ropes were being used.\n\nThen they pulled them out.\n\nMassive bolts the size of men, with a sharpened end weighted with glinting iron.\n\nThe infamous espringal ballistae of the Islanders were aiming right at us. I whirled around to warn the others, only to realize that no one was around me. They were all marching to form up at the other side of the base.\n\nThe sky blackened as the massive bolts of ballistae covered the sky.\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	5
With rhyming please!	[WP] A poet's suicide note	[ "Fuck you all\nand fuck off some more\nyou are cunts\nafter all.\n\nI have loved you all\nwith my soul.\nBut for you\nit was small.\n\nFuck you all\nand i wish you die\nbefore i strangle myself\nwith my tie.\n\nI hope i don't go away\nso I can haunt you if i stay.\nI will be there every night\nwatching you destroy your life.\n\nFuck you all\ni wish you well\na long and prosperous\neternity in hell.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "The fading light above the ocean \ndraws with it the city's commotion, \nbut no matter where I look \nI always return to my sheltered nook. \nI cannot hide from the desolation within, \nbecause of all the sin that has been. \nSomewhere along the journey so distant, \nI have found a meaning - nonexistent. \nWithin this world, so bleak and grey, \nI find myself dreading each coming day. \nAmongst the evening light \nI pray for but a brief respite. \nI know down in my soul \nthat only one thing can make me whole. \nI have but one fleeting desire \nthat from this cruel world I can retire. \nI will ensure that this goes through, \nfor at last... I can say adieu. \n", "\nset back everyday.\n taunted.\nconstantly reminded. \nHaunted.\nall thats happened races through my mind.\ni try to rebuild, even when thoughts are crazy\nthe pain creeps and seeps into every facet in a slow bind\nmy path is undefined and hazy\nI hate when i can’t be me, tucked away deep\nstifled so much I just want to sleep.\nit’s hard when being awake is a chore\nWhy did you have to be a whore?\nI can’t even speak like normal\nall my thoughts scattered and informal\nI had to relearn how to act\nwhen you betrayed our pact\nnow when i speak,\npeople look at me like i’m a freak\nweird and frail\nstuck in a mental jail\nwe were happy and going so far\nnow i just want to go to a bar.\ni tuck it away and try and smile\nsomedays i fake it so i can make it\nsometimes i just collapse in a pile\nLife is a long road to take alone.\n", "Una vida sin ti\n-\n\nLa vida duele como el mes\n\nen el que vimos el pasar\n\nDe días y de noches. Sé\n\nQue me vas a extrañar.\n\nContigo no es contigo cuando nunca puedo verte.\n\nCuando el aire trae la lluvia y mis recuerdos vuelan libres.\n\nSiento un dedo, y otro, y otro acariciando mi cabello.\n\nEsos días, Eu, te extraño. Esta vez volveré a verte.\n\n--\nnote: I can't feel my poetry in English, so I leave it in Spanish. Hmm, I'll translate it, but it won't rhyme.\n\nA life without you\n-\n\nLife hurts like the month\n\nin which we saw pass\n\nthe days and nights. I know\n\nThat you will miss me.\n\n\nWith you is not with you when I can never see you.\n\nWhen the air brings the rain and my memories fly free.\n\nI feel a finger, and another, and another caressing my hair.\n\nThose days, Eu, I miss you. This time I'll see you again.", "It washes up over me,\n\nlike a vengeful sea \n\nemotion of the day\n\nwhich requires a reprieve.\n\n\n\n\nHow can I satiate \n\nsuch a hungry beast?\n\nall that it radiates\n\nis need for a feast\n\n\n\n\nBut I will not be the food,\n\nI’ll not allow this creature to live\n\nin all the ways I could conclude\n\nI will not die captive.\n\n\n\n\nStarving a monster,\n\nand saving a man\n\nMy death will end my pain.\n\n\n\n\nI pray you understand." ]	5
The Idea is that you would be able to tell when a person is currently lying/telling the truth, and also how truthful they are in general. Otherwise feel free to color outside the lines.	[WP] The Lower half of each Human's forehead temporarily changes hue when they lie. The upper half shows their lifetime average hue.	[ "“You have my word,” he smiled, “I won't harm a single hair on her head. Just give us what we asked for.” \n\nPeter Shalaskaya is a dangerous man. Anyone in the city with even the slightest awareness of our criminal underworld knows that. He is everything I had ever imagined he would like be, hawkish gaze, prematurely gray hair, gaunt frame...everything save for one detail...he bears the countenance of an honest man...well, there are no truly honest men in this world, but he appears no more dishonest than anyone else. \n\nWhen a lie is told, the lower half of one's forehead briefly glows dark green. A man's upper forehead is affected by the cumulative lies told over the course of their lifetime...an undercurrent of red that manifests after their first lie is told, deepening into darker and darker crimson with every passing distortion of reality. \n\nYet, here I stand, before a man with far more years than I, looking no more a liar than I am.\n\n“It is not wise to test my patience, Michael.” his tone drops an octave, again, he is honest. \n\nNo time to think. “Here.” I pull the flash drive from my pocket, “Now let her go.” \nWith a smirk, he motions to one of his enforcers who wordlessly shoots my wife through the stomach.\n\n“You...” I don't have time to finish before the back of a pistol lands against my temple. \n\n“See,” he says, clutching her jaw in one or his hands, “Not a hair on her pretty head is out of place.” Another nod to one of his men seals my fate, “Feed him to the dogs...” ", "“Ok, son, turn around and let me see the back.” \n\nHis father brushed a bit of lint from the boy's tuxedo and pulled some wrinkles from the jacket.\n\n“Tell me again why I have to go to the dinner?”\n\n“Well, boy, your mother and I are being honored by the community tonight at a gala award ceremony. Since old Mr. Gunderson died that makes your mother and I officially the last married couple in town. I guess that's kind of big deal so everyone is throwing us a party to celebrate.” \n\n“But why does nobody get married anymore?”\n\n“Well, that has to do with our recent evolution of the lie brow. It's a complicated social issue son. I don't mean to be patronizing, but you are only eight years old. I think you'll understand in a few years and we'll just leave it at that.” \n\nThe boy was not satisfied with this answer but before he could ask more his mother entered the room. Her face was radiant with delight, so rarely did she get to dress up. She twirled around and the skirt of her dress cut the air in spirals around her. “What do you think boys? Do I look fat in this?”\n\nThe man shot his son a quick glance that said 'do not answer that'. He pulled from his back pocket a handkerchief and deftly tied it around his head, obscuring his lie brow. “Darling, you have never looked more amazing.” \n\nShe cocked her head for a moment, then with a huge grin she took her own bandanna and tied it around her head in a similar fashion. “I'm going to finish getting ready. I won't be long.”" ]	2
	[WP]A Homeless man has a conversation with god.	[ "The man awoke in \"his\" cave after his long trek from the small town he passed through. Even though the cave kept out the Sun, it was still mercifully hot in it. A thin layer of sweat and dirt grime covered every inch of him and his ragged clothes, but he didn't care. All he wanted to do was keep running before the authorities caught up to him. He had to keep going. He knew he had to keep going, but even so he didn't believe he could anymore. The man was once religious, but not anymore. That had fallen through years ago, but in this moment he decided to ask Him, \"Why have you forsaken me?\". As if on command, the sands of the cave started to convulse and swirl and align themselves into a shape of a man. When the sands finally stopped before the homeless man stood a tall man with beard and hair as white as his robe. It was God.\n\"You have asked me why I have forsaken you, yes?\" said God. The man took a few moments to compose himself and said, \"Are-are you-Him or-am I dreaming?\". \n\"You are not dreaming and neither have you answered my question. Did you or did you not ask me if I had forsaken you?\" God said in reverent tones. Gaining a new found confidence, the man said, \"Yes. I did ask you. I once was a valuable servant to you and just because I don't follow you you have damned me to this hell!\"\n\"As you should recall you damned yourself.\" God said, unflinching.\n\"You lied to me!\" the man yelled. \"Wasn't it you who said, 'Ask ye shall receive?'. Well I ask of you now to end this damnation you have cast upon me!\" he shouted.\n\"Ask and ye shall receive. Very well. I will grant you your wish, though it may not be quite what you expected. Goodbye Lucifer.\" and with a flick of the wrist the man and God were gone.", "Charles sat there, his home, all four walls of it, tightly snug around him. It was really convenient actually, a house, a blanket, and if he ever got a new house he could just fold in the flaps and carry things in it. But Charles sat there, for what seemed like ages, a tin cup in front of him and every once in awhile he'd hear that familiar 'clink' as a piece of metal hit the bottom. It was rare though, that sound, people generally held onto a penny in their pocket as if it was a golden ticket to the Chocolate Factory.\n\nBut Charles still sat there, through the blistering heat, the chilling cold, the beatings of drunks, all of it. Charles sat there, just watching humanity. When he was younger, back before his beard and hair grew out to the length they were now, hell, back before he was even able to grow the hairs on his face, Charles had faith in the world. He didn't see humanity as evil, as wicked, as this group of people who tortured one another to get ahead in life before their inevitable death. People weren't evil by nature, only the worst of them seemed to gather the attention. After all, gore sells papers and gets viewers.\n\nNow though, Charles laid there, his knees buried into his chest as he tried to cover up his head with his hands. The beating happened nearly every week, at around the same time actually. The drunks would get out of the bar and come by his stoop, and they'd just be angry about something. Tonight it seemed to be about one of the men's hormones being on high and not finding any girl with low self esteem to take home with him.\n\nSuddenly, it all stopped. There was a flash of white light and Charles felt this immense warmth that came from behind a door that he had appeared in front of. His hand reached out and slowly he moved his dirt covered hands through the intricate linework, but when he got to the handle, he realized that there wasn't one. Instead the door just opened on its own, and the wramth behind the door got even stronger. \n\n\"Ah, Sephaman, I'm glad to see you. It's been far to long, about 32 years right?\" a voice sounded from around Charles. He couldn't place where the noise came from, it felt like it surrounded him and held him in place, but there was still a mystery as to whether or not it existedor was just in his mind.\n\n\"My...I'm not this...Stephen, my name is Charles\" the man said, his arms slowly being covered by the rigid goosebumps. \n\n\"No, you just think that that's your name. Your name is Sephaman, how awful would it be for me to forget the name that I gave one of my sons?\" There it was again, the voice that came from everywhere and nowhere at once. \n\n\"Your sons? I'm an only child, my parents died, or they may as well have\" \n\n\"Oh no, those were just your siblings who took care of you and brought you into this world. I am your Father, as I am everyone's true Father. At least, that's what I'm pretty sure I wrote into those books that float around back there. I'm a best selling author don't you know?\" \n\n\"Books? Father? Who...who are you?\" \n\n\"I'm the Alpha and the Omega, I'm the Divine Ruler, I'm Zeus, I'm Odin, I'm Allah, I'm God, I'm everything and nothing all at once. However I do prefer to just be called Jay, it's similar tothe name I had when I went to Earth last.\" \n\nCharles, upon hearing the voice again, swore that he felt tears rolling down his cheeks, washing away the dirt that encrusted his skin. He looked around him, his mind confused as to what all was happening.\n\n\"God?\"\n\n\"I said my son, call me Jay\" \n\n\"Why am I here? Am...am I a prophet?\" Charles asked, hoping and praying that there was something behind why he was called to this room, as to why this voice was here. But as he asked these questions a pair of shoes appeared on the ground he was staring at. As he looked up he saw a pair of sweatpants and what appeared to be a New England Patriots hoodie. But as he tried to make out the face all he saw was something to the side, unable to focus on the actual figure in front of him. \n\n\"A prophet? Heavens no. You're dead Charles, those men down there, they broke your sternum which pierced a few organs and you bled out in the street. People walked by as you were laying there but most just assumed it was a drug overdose or something. One person stopped, but that was only to grab your tin can so they could get a little bit of profit out of your death.\" The man's lips were moving, or Charles thought they were at least, but the voice seemed to still be coming from everywhere at once. \n\n\"Then...why am I here? If I'm dead why am I alone here? Where are the gates? Where's the angels? The line? Where is everything?\" Charles asked, his confusion growing only faster. \n\n\"Oh? You want heaven? Well, maybe some day I can fulfill that wish. But you won't be going there now, none of you humans are going there. You can't have paradise when the only people there ruin the gift of the planet they were on, kill each other for power and animals for fun. You're a mess, the whole lot of you, why would I let you in?\" Jay asked as he turned and yawned.\n\n\"Then...why are you talking to me? Why did you choose to speak to me?\" Charles asked as Jay laughed and shrugged, \"I was bored waiting on my meeting. There is someone who is arriving soon that I'll be taking back to Heaven with me.\" \n\nAnd as those words were uttered, Charles heard the door opening and in walked a Golden Retriever, it's collar and leash already attached. The man tilted his head, confused as Jay picked up the leash and began to walk away. The ground underneath of Charles began to crumble as he asked that oh so important question. \n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Haven't you heard? All Dogs go to Heaven.\"", "Peter coughed into his sleeve, a reflex from when manners mattered. That was a long time ago though. Now nobody gave a shit what he did and he didn't give a shit right back to them. \n\nAll that mattered was his bottle and it was nearly empty and that was bad. \n\n\"Excuse me.\" Peter looked up at the voice. It was some guy. Just a regular old guy. He couldn't pick him out of a crowd if he was sober and trying. Peter assumed he was talking to someone else even though the alley was empty. \n\n\"Peter I am talking to you,\" the man said. Peter grunted in drunken assent then realized something was just a bit off. \n\n\"How du know m'name?\" he slurred out. \n\n\"I know everyone's name,\" the man said, \"That's not important right now. Come. Sit with me.\" \n\n\"Don wanna,\" Peter said shuffling further down the alley. He had to get a new bottle before the current one ran out. \n\n\"Then we will have to walk then,\" the man said. Peter ignored him for what felt like a good long while, which in reality was perhaps eight seconds. He lifted the bottle up and found the top covered by a hand. \n\n\"No Peter,\" the man said gently, \"I am talking to you and you will not drink. I need you to sober up some.\" \n\n\"Don wanna,\" Peter slurred. \n\n\"That's too bad Peter,\" the man said, gently taking the bottle. Any protest died once it was gone. He wasn't exactly sure why. \n\n\"Where are you Peter?\" the man asked. Peter blinked. \n\n\"Alley,\" he said. \n\n\"And where is the alley?\" the man said. \n\n\"City,\" Peter replied. \n\n\"Which city?\" the man asked, \"there's more than one.\" \n\n\"New York,\" Peter said spouting the first thing that came to his mind. \n\n\"Not quite,\" the man said, \"try again. Think more...midwestern.\"\n\n\"Ch cago,\" Peter grunted. That answer sounded more correct actually.\n\n\"Very good Peter,\" the man said, \"now why don't we sit down on this curb in Chicago?\" Put that way the offer sounded more tempting. He sat next to the stranger. The stranger took off his hat and set it next to him. Peter eyed it, thinking he could sell it and get more money for more bottles. \n\n\"No Peter,\" the man said, \"this is mine you cannot take it.\" \n\n\"Says who?\" Peter challenged childishly. \n\n\"Says me,\" the man said. \n\n\"Who're you?\" Peter asked. \n\n\"I have so many names,\" the man said, \"go on and pick one. It won't matter which.\" \n\n\"...Asshole,\" Peter grumbled. \n\n\"One of my personal favorites,\" the man said, \"Alright then Peter, why were you in the alley?\"\n\n\"'Cause it's home,\" Peter said. \n\n\"No it isn't,\" the Asshole said, \"I thought home was with Carrie.\"\n\n\"Kicked me out,\" Peter said. \n\n\"No Ellen kicked you out,\" the man said, \"Carrie took you back and then Ellen made you leave. Why?\"\n\n\"Bitches,\" Peter grumbled. \n\n\"No,\" the Asshole said, \"Carrie loves you. She's always loved you and she always will. She made a promise that she would. Ellen loves her sister. She can't stand to see you get drunk and start cursing her out. Carrie doesn't either, but she loves you enough to try and overlook it, even as it causes her pain.\" Peter wanted to disagree, but he knew this man was right. \n\n\"You been with Carrie?\" Peter asked. \n\n\"Not like that,\" the man said, \"A lot of people ask me for help and Carrie is no exception. Oh...and if I do manage to help you please don't mention me to her. I'd prefer to live without the praise. I get enough as it is.\" Peter grunted an assent. \n\n\"So...here's the big question,\" the man said, \"why did Ellen kick you out?\"\n\n\"I drink some,\" Peter said. It reminded him of his bottle and he reached for it. \n\n\"No Peter,\" the man said pulling it away. Peter grumbled and sat back. \n\n\"I drink,\" he said.\n\n\"Yes, you drink a lot,\" the man said, \"and now drinking is all you have left.\" Peter grunted again and stretched his legs out. \n\n\"Why do you drink Peter?\" the man asked. \n\n\"S'easy,\" Peter said. That's right. That bitch Ellen called him a drunken coward when she slammed the door in his face. \n\n\"Nobody's perfect Peter,\" the man said, \"I didn't want anyone to be. If everything was happy and perfect...what meaning is there?\" \n\n\"Asshole,\" Peter muttered. \n\n\"I am,\" the man said, \"but I still love all of you. Even the drunken ones. Carrie still loves you too. You used her.\" Peter nodded. \n\n\"She'd take you back if you asked, but you're not going to,\" the man said, \"you want to go back sober, prove that you're not a coward.\" Peter nodded. \n\n\"S'hard,\" he mumbled. \n\n\"I know it is,\" the man said, patting Peter's back. \n\n\"People make mistakes,\" the man said, \"I do too, but people chose not to notice them. Someone once wrote that I made people out of my own image. I added the imperfections too, remember.\" He held up the bottle and emptied it on the concrete. \n\n\"Hey!\" Peter growled. \n\n\"I want you to try Peter,\" the man said, \"That's all I wanted anyone to do. Just try.\" Peter's snarl faded as the stranger's request sounded oddly...doable. \n\n\"You don't have to do it alone,\" the man said, \"there's a nice place up the road. A shelter. If you sober up you can stay. You'll have to walk past the liquor store to get there, but I know that you can do it if you really want it.\" The man stood up replacing his nice hat. \n\n\"Think about it Peter,\" the man said, \"I'll see you around.\" For a few minutes Peter wondered about who the man was. It struck him only briefly that it might have been...but no that's ridiculous. Slowly the incident faded and Peter no longer remembered who he was talking to. \n\nHe got to his feet, stretched out his back and started down the road that had the closest liquor store. \n\nAnd the shelter. ", "\"You are there,\" the man's words echoed through the reaches of his psyche. Even the bone chill of an empty, hopeless night could not cut through the beacon that somewhere beyond the blind eye and forgetfulness of humanity someone cared.\n\n\"You are there, aren't you?\" He spoke again. Through weak eyes, the streetlamp's dim yellow light cascaded over cement and across asphalt, tracing the outline of a thousand manufactured edges. In his dark corner, hidden from the judgment of those unable to fathom a jagged and broken existence, he traced the road before him he'd seen a thousand times, and waited.\n\nFrom outside his vision a silhouette formed with increasing clarity. Against the backlit landscape the humbleness of a proffered figure appeared.\n\n\"I am here,\" the figure whispered. The voice came as clear and vibrant as the boardwalk music the man had walked to ages ago with his then newlywed wife - a place of hope and warmth and joy. A place too, far, far from reach. \"Why is it you call on me?\"\n\nThe man replied, \"It is these nights, the ones that haunt me, wherein I remember a time long, long ago. Flashes of peace and happiness, of family and work, grace my memories, but fleeting. Their ephemerality serves only as a sad reminder of this sordid state of affairs and sometimes I do not know if the memories are real or just the desperate grasping of a shattered mind.\"\n\nThe figure smiled and bent over the man. \"You are more beautiful than you know. In your destitution there is honesty, a life that has seen the innocence of day and the horror of night. Perhaps what images grace your mind are the threads of a message. If you could read them, what might they tell?\"\n\n\"They would mock me saying the caress of a wife, the aspirations of a youth, the hope of a bright future is all but empty. The fall from grace is hard and swift and once it is done, looking up the cliff face from whence one has come is the inference of an all but impossible climb.\"\n\n\"And yet, can your memories - the images of care, affection, and promise - be the bridge between these craggy depths and the place you might one day return?\"\n\nThe man turned away and bowed his head. As vivid as the memory of time spent with his youthful wife and prospect of a family materialized, so too did the memory of her passing wash across him. Despairing, the man thought for a moment, then craned his neck once more to speak again. \"God? What can you know of loss? You are here for me, granted, but I cannot imagine what you must think when you see a man like me. When the world takes away those things which are most important and takes no pity on your subsequent failures, do you truly understand what it is to be lost?\"\n\nThe figure smiled back at the man who now shivered in the sharp midnight winds. Reaching down, the figure placed a soft hand across his stubbled face and for a moment the flowery scent of his late wife graced the man's senses. For a moment in time the two shared their close distance, a connection of two bodies the man had not felt for an immeasurable time. Unaware, the warmth of tears began to run at the sides of his cheeks.\n\nAs the figure rose to leave, the man spoke through a choked and vaulted voice, \"I- I am sorry. When... when will I see you next?\"\n\nIn the light, which now broke across her face, the ethereal visage of his wife turned and looked with warm eyes. \"I will always be with you my love. Be strong and go on.\"", "\"Joseph. Joseph, wake up.\"\n\nJoe stirs awake, but his eyes are having trouble shaking his sleepiness. A few lights dimly brighten the street, but other than that, it is pitch dark. Joe wants to sit up, but it is freezing, and the warmth of his wool blanket is too comforting. \n\nitalics Maybe I am just hearing things.\n\nJoe turns on his side so that his sore back has some rest. He is about to fall back asleep when he hears the voice again.\n\n\"Joseph, wake from the night. It is God, here to speak with you.\"\n\nThis time Joe jumps awake, surveying the area around him. Even though it is dark, Joe can tell he is alone, at least outside of his mind. The thought puzzles Joe.\n\nitalics Do I really believe that God is trying to speak with me?\n\nJoe doesn't try to go back to sleep, but he just sits there, pulling his blanket up to his chin. \n\n\"JOSEPH!\"\n\nThere is no denying it this time. Joe heard it, and it was definitely coming from within his mind.\n\n\"What? No one calls me Joseph, anymore. Not since my parents... Anyways, I don't believe in God.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Well, I'm probably dreaming, but even if I'm not, why talk to me? I'm nobody. No one cares about me, why should you? You haven't helped me before.\"\n\n\"To tell you the truth, I don't interact with this world any more than I need to. Heaven, that is where I reside, and that is what I take care of. I only come down here to talk to you mortals every once in awhile. It keeps me grounded.\"\n\n\"So, you're only here to talk to me? Why not help people? I don't mean me. I'm here because of what I have done, and I accept that, but why not help those that are truly suffering? Children with cancer, women that are kidnapped and raped everyday; why can't you be there for them?\"\n\n\"You know, you can't beat yourself up too much for what you did. I cannot say that your Father deserved it, but he deserved no better. It is just too bad that your soul has to suffer for what that man did, but you still have time to atone, and at least get another chance. As for why I chose to talk to you, I didn't. You just got the luck of the draw, I suppose.\"\n\n\"Why should I get another chance? What about children that die at birth or die way too early in life? Do they get a second chance?\"\n\n\"Of course. You see, this mortal life, is just the womb, where children are born into the afterlife. Some make it, some are stillborn and sent to hell. While others that are morally ambiguous, such as those children, or people that have atoned for their sins, reborn as eggs until they finally reach a verdict.\"\n\n\"So, I can be reborn again? Have another life?\"\n\n\"Sure, just get to the point where you have done as much good as you have done bad.\"\n\n\"I will, but why keep this a secret, why don't you let the whole world know at once?\"\n\n\"To tell you the truth, I've tried that, but too many people refuse to believe. Think they are crazy, think others are crazy; it just does more harm than good.\"\n\n\"I see... but you still have not answered my question. Why can't you end all of the suffering?\"\n\n\"Free will. Yes, I know it's a cheap answer, and I know that maybe, after they made the wrong choice, I could stop them, but no. There are so many worlds, each filled with billions of beings. There is no way I could change all of that. Heaven would be in complete disarray, and the afterlife is what is most important. To be honest, and hopefully I do not offend you, but the universe is billions of years old, and the afterlife is infinite, so each life is not even a blip on the timescale. I just don't have the time, plus, as I said earlier, everyone gets their chance.\"\n\nAll of the information is swarming through Joe's mind, bogging him down. He doesn't want to forget anything.\n\n\"One last question. What can I do to make the biggest impact in this world?\"\n\n\"It's the small things. Yes, Bill Gates does save many lives, but not one person can solve all of the world's problems. Mainly, try to make yourself happy, and you will see how such a positive outlook will affect everyone around you.\"\n\nJoe smiles.\n\n\"Thank you, God. Is there anything I can do for you?\"\n\n\"Just say hi to me in your prayers. It will be a much needed variance from all of the requests I get every night. Good night, Joseph. This has been a very enlightening conversation. I hope to see you in heaven one day.\"\n\nAnd just like that, God is gone. Despite the freezing cold, the uncomfortable concrete beneath him, and the aches in his body, Joe never slept so well in his life. ", "His eyes opened slowly as he reached for them with his tattered gloves. He rubbed them until the world around him became clear. It was a long night, not because of the cold and hard alley floor he was sleeping on but because of the light drizzle that continually awoke him from his one release of the world: sleep. \nHe looked across the street and saw 2 lovers walk hand in hand into the coffee shop where they always started their day before separating and enjoying their perfect lives. He used to have a life like that until the warehouse closed. \nBottle after bottle fell to the grungy carpet in his 1 bedroom apartment. This cycle continued until he could no longer afford the sweet whiskey and soon after his whiskey money ran dry he could not afford the apartment he had been in for 28 years. \nHe came home one day to find his belongings on the street corner. The landlord had warned him that if he fell more than 3 months behind on rent then he will be \"forcibly evicted\". As his world unraveled he became less worried about what he owned so he left his belongings on the street corner and wandered into the city; one that he had been told had potential. \nHe soon found his way to a homeless shelter for a fresh start but was kicked out due to smuggling drugs in after he failed to find a job. It is difficult to find a job that needed his \"outdated skills\" as the interviewer so elegantly told him. \nAfter he was rejected by every interviewer and banned from every shelter he slowly gave up hope on the world. He wanted to forget everything and the simplest way to accomplish this task is an easy one. He jumped off the city bridge into the river. The impact knocked him out and when he awoke he was in a village of tents near the riverside. There were others who looked like they had been kicked out of their apartments for far longer than himself so he decided to call this place his new home. \nThose days were good until the city cracked down on \"illegal zoning\". Forced to migrate he found an alley where he met a few people; some crazy and some \"normal\", whatever that means to you. Anyways, times get even rougher when winter came around and he barely survived. Many people died but he didn't. He knew there was something out there, something to live for. \nThe spring rain is all he is concerned about right now. During the night he shivers away any sustenance he gained during the day and then he would wake up and do it all over. The conditions weren't ideal but he was alive and that's all that concerned him. \nA few weeks of living like this gets him motivated. Boredom from sobriety seeps in and he decides that he wants to turn to knowledge. Not having a dime to his name made this a difficult accomplishment. The library kicked him out for being a 'detriment to society' and he had no family to turn to. As he was walking down his least favorite street, which he named 'Lover's Lane', he saw a book store with dark shades over the windows and enough people entering and exiting for him to go unnoticed. \nHe slipped into the front door as innocuously as he could and made his way to the back of the store. He wanted a book. Any book. He gazed up to the top shelf and saw a leather-bound novel whose title had been worn off over the years. He continued to stare at the spine and be began to feel a connection with this mysterious text. He reached for the novel and felt its smoothness as he brought it to his hip. He turned around and made his way through the crowd. \nOnce he was outside he held the brown, leather book in front of him and admired his prize. The sun was shining and he felt happy for the first time that he could remember. The warmth of the sun held him in its embrace and he smiled towards his new companion that will join him in the alley. \nHe turned around and saw a man sprinting out of the book store, surely he owned the establishment and was not a man to give anything away. He was a thin elderly man with a sunken in face. He sprinted towards the homeless man and, on instinct, the homeless man ran back towards the only place he could call home: his cold, dark alley. \nThe bookstore owner chased after him and, as the homeless man got closer to the alley, the owner got closer to the man. They both ended their journey in the alley. Both men were out of breathe and were bent over with their hands on their knees. The owner reached for the book but the homeless man pulled it away. The owner lunged for the man but he moved and the owner fell past the homeless man. \nThe owner stood up and tackled the homeless man into the corner of the garbage can where the man had found so many half empty coffee cups. So many prizes of food and drink that allowed him to flourish among his fellow alley lurkers. The homeless man began to bleed profusely as the owner took the prize from the battle: the Holy Bible made its way back to the bookstore. \nThe homeless man regained composure but in a state which he knew nothing about. He was alone for so long that the amount of stress he put on himself didn't allow him to think clearly. He couldn't see, he couldn't talk, he couldn't hear, but he could feel. \nHis energy floated around him and he could feel the universe embrace him. He knew his life could have been different but that didn't matter now as he felt connected to the universe around him and with each inhalation he understood everything better and better with a sense of clarity that never came to him during those frigid alley nights. \nAs he began to question his life a pulse of energy jolted its way through his body, taking his energy to the edges of the universe. He began to question his meaning for existence and the universe took more of his energy, clearing his mind and giving everything around him more beauty. \nBit by bit his mind became clear and his energy dissipated into the space around him. He inhabited all the colors from every spectrum of the universe as he ended the exchange for his life on the blue planet. He didn't have to think about God, for he slowly became God. The paths of the universe unfolded as all that there ever was revealed itself to him, allowing him to become one with the universe, outside of space and time. Outside of thought. Outside of what there is. Outside of everything, but he became a part of everything. True beauty revealed itself that day he became one with everything. He didn't need to talk. He didn't need to see. He simply needed to not be and then be as the universe and the homeless man became one.", "\"God damn it. It's so hot I'm going to melt and they'll have to scrape me off the pavement with a spatula. The hell with all of this. What's the point?\" He closed his eyes against the sun and when he opened them again everything was bright, so bright. He squinted and put his cardboard sign down on the pavement so he could rub his eyes but they refused to adjust to the light.\n\nWOULD YOU REALLY LIKE TO KNOW? The voice boomed from inside him, outside him, from everywhere. He couldn't tell if it was a man or woman, old or young. It was everything and nothing all at once.\n\n\"What... what?\" He sputtered, digging blindly around in his grimy pockets for his lighter and the half a cigarette he'd found in the ashtray outside the mall. He brought it to his lips and struggled to light it with shaking hands.\n\nWHAT THE POINT IS. YOU ASKED, the voice responded.\n\nThe man thought about it. Scenes of his life so far played out in front of him. The father who went to jail when he was six. The mother who never cared where he was or when he was coming home. Juvie for smashing the windshields of a dozen parked cars. Sleeping on friend's coaches until they got sick of him then moving to the city. Losing his apartment when he spent all his money trying to impress a girl who used it to buy heroin and overdose. His car impounded because he didn't have an address to register it too. His first night on the streets. The headaches. The daily stabbing, burning headaches that robbed him of his senses sometimes so that he could barely speak.\n\nHe sniffled grossly and spit a wad of red phlegm on the sidewalk. \"Yeah, why not. I would like to know the point.\"\n\nME TOO.\n\nHe heard the voice chuckling as it faded and the light dimmed so that he could once again see the pot holes in the street and the rusty lamp posts.\n\n\"Well shit, that was a joke?\" He said aloud as he scratched at his beard, picked something out and flicked it away.\n\nThen it dawned on him, \"Actually that explains a lot.\"", "The homeless man looked into god’s eyes and said, “You don’t look as I would have expected.” \n\nGod tried to hide his amusements by feigning an itch on his upper lip. The smile squeaked through, however; the homeless man may not have lived up to god’s expectations, but he still respected the man and enjoyed his sense of humour. \n\n“No, really. I pictured you to be more … more humanlike. Not exactly as we depict you in most images, sculptures, or paintings. And also not exactly as portrayed by Morgan Freeman in Bruce Almighty. Neither could I see you as looking like a traditional Norse god, nor Buddha, or others. Just … I guess just different.” \n\n“But son, you’ve been speaking with me for years now. Why does my appearance now just begin to become the topic of our conversation?” \n\n“Because it never concerned me. I was going through much bigger things at the time. When we first started speaking, I’d just lost my job. I couldn’t pay the rent. Couldn’t afford new clothes to get an interview. And if I did get an interview, they needed an address. I didn’t have one, so they wouldn’t hire me. You know the story; we’ve been through this all.” The man fought back tears. He wiped his eyes, now beginning to well with tears, with the back of a dirty glove he had found. \n\n“Son, all these years we’ve been speaking, I thought we’d made progress. You found a halfway house that would accept you, even though you didn’t exactly fit the traditional criteria. Now I find you back on the streets. We’d gotten you a job. I helped give you the courage to apply. We celebrated together. I don’t understand why we are back here, back to asking these basic questions. I feel like we are regressing back to a time when you first began speaking with me.” \n\n“I feel lost. That’s why. It just seems like everything was so pointless. I would wake up from the halfway house, to go to work, where I was being paid barely enough to survive. I returned to the halfway house to a bed dirtier than the cardboard I sleep on out here on the streets. That was no life, either! At least out here I have my sanity, I have my thoughts, my peace. My time is mine, and belongs to nobody.” \n\n“You see, son, that is where you are wrong. Your time is mine as well, and I can’t strain it enough. We had a plan. You would get a job. Acquire a home with your own kitchen. You’d be able to make food; cook it yourself! By accomplishing your goals, you would utilize me to my full potential! But every time you regress, I get held back from obtaining my ultimate utility!” \n\nAs a mother and child walked by, witnessing the conversation between the homeless man and god, the child looked up to his mother and asked “Mother, why is that man talking to a pasta strainer?” \n", "\"Ayo, God! What's up, dawg?\"\n\n\"I said ayo, God! What up?\"\n\nSilence.\n\n\"Man, fuck this motherfucker, man. I'm out here livin' in a garbage can and this motherfucker be up in the clouds like 'Ohh this shit be so comfy.' Motherfucker, answer me!\"\n\nThe rain slowed. The clouds parted. Bright white light shone through the sky to reveal a man. A very special man.\n\n\"Hoooly shit! God, what up! What up, God? What's good, man?\"\n\n\"Ayo, it's me Snoop G-O-double-D. What's the dizzle, hizzle?\" \n\n\"Oh, no. Aw, no no no no no. This gotta be some hallucination or some shit.\"\n\n\"Quit trippin', homie. It's me - Snoop G-O-double-D. What can I do you for?\"\n\n\"Well, first of all, get me out of this here garbage can. That would be a nice start.\"\n\nThunder crashes. \n\n\"What the hell, man! All you did was take away the can! Where am I gonna sleep, man?\"\n\nLightning strikes. Nothing appeared... or disappeared for that matter.\n\n\"Now you just showing off!\"\n\nThunder again. A drink shows up in the homeless man's hand.\n\n\"What the fuck? What the fuck is this shit?\"\n\n\"Gin. And juice.\"\n\n\"Now, tell me, God. What the FUCK am I gonna do with this shit?\"\n\n\"Roll down the street. Trust me, homie.\"\n\n\"Trust you! Trust you? Damn, I be callin' your name every night - God! and you ain't never show up. Now you here and you give me a drink and tell me to trust you?\"\n\nLightning again. A joint appears in the homeless man's other hand.\n\n\"That's the bubonic chronic. Smoke up muthafucka!\"\n\n\"God, I ain't never turned down some fucking weed, but you ain't helpin' here!\"\n\n\"If a nia get a attitude...\"\n\n\"Aw, here it goes! God, you gonna help me out, or you just gonna keep makin' illogical references to your songs?\"\n\n\"Must I remind you, I'm only here to twist you.\"\n\n\"Doin' a damn good job of it. My whole life twisted motherfucker!\"\n\n\"Pistol whip you, dip you, then flip you.\"\n\nThe homeless man sighed, resigned to the fact that maybe Snoop wasn't God. Maybe God wasn't real. After all, he was pretty hungry. He hadn't eaten in days. It had to be his mind playing tricks on him.\n\n\"Gimme a god damn lighter!\"\n\n\"Now dance to this motherfuckin' music we crip to!\"\n\n\"WHAT?! What music?!\"\n\n\"Subscribe nia, get yo issue!\"\n\n\"Snoop, wha-\"\n\n\"Baby, come close. Let me see how you get loose!\"\n\nWith that a cylinder of bright white light came down around the homeless man. His body went limp and he stared at the descending sky, paralyzed, eyes wide open, headed straight for Snoop Dogg's open mouth. He shuddered and entered Snoop's mouth. \n\nFor a moment, he thought he was dead. Maybe he was glad to be dead. Then he heard the music. ", "I sit, so lost, so fucking miserable. The war is always there, red like the slowly setting sun. You think you know everything you old, soulless bastard but never will you know the pangs of upcoming, barely dodged death. Fuck you and your callous games us mortals play. Fuck you for making me love whiskey more than my lovers, more than anything. I know you're there. Say something. Fuck you. I was there and I saw the death you allowed to be perpetuated in your name, in your many names. God, Allah, I know you, you old con-man. Perhaps I sit alone, perhaps I am drunk and certainly I will die soon, it is so very cold after all, this world of ours, but fuck you. Fuck you forever.", "Two men sat on a bus stop, long after the last bus had passed. A grizzled old man in a patched woolen beanie and the remains of a bomber jacket, and a handsome man of indeterminate middle age. His suit was tasteful, well cut without ostentation and the dust of the bus stop did not seem to touch it.\n\n\"I've been living on the streets for almost 20 years now.\" said the older man, offering his new conversation partner a swig from his grimy bottle of scotch. His only answer was a meditative silence.\n\nWith a shrug, he sipped from the bottle and stowed it back in his jacket.\n\"It's not so bad, really. A bunch of us have a sort of camp under the bridge, where the freeway crosses Earle's creek. The salvation army brings soup five days a week. Other days, you can usually panhandle enough to get by, or raid the bins at the back of the supermarket. Oh, and the laundromat will let you do washing for free during their quiet times. Like I said, it's not so bad.\"\n\nThe younger man nodded, but continued to stare into the distance, silent.\n\n\"So h-\" the old man was cut off by the other mans sudden interjection.\n\n\"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT YOU OLD BUM?!\nA YEAR AGO I HAD GODDAMN SERVANTS. SERVANTS. I HAD A BEAUTIFUL WIFE. \nA MONTH AGO I COULD STILL MOVE MORE MONEY THAN YOU HAVE EVER SEEN IN YOUR ENTIRE, MISERABLE, LIFE.\nLAST NIGHT I SLEPT IN A CAR.\nAND NOW I HAVE NOTHING.\"\n\nThe younger man's calm facade finally slipped, and the desparate creature beneath stood from the bus stop and rounded to look the old man he was addressing in the face. \n\n\"AND YOU TALK ABOUT CHARITY, AND PANHANDLING, AND EATING FROM FUCKING BINS LIKE IT'S MEANT TO BE A COMFORT.\nWHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU.\"\n\nThe old man smirked, but his sad eyes prevented the expression from being entirely unkind. \"Don't worry Max, I hear these kinds of trials build character.\"", "“Spare us some change?” \n“Here” \n“Thanks – ey! Waddya call this?” \n“It’s money. Isn’t it?” \n“Int none that I’ve ever seen before. You some kinda foreigner or summink?” \n“Something like that, yes” \n“This int no use ter me anyways, yer might as well ‘ave it back” \n“Could I get you something else?” \n“A ‘ouse would ‘elp” \n“I can get you a house” \n“Like ‘ell yer can. No one would want me livin’ anywhere near ‘em. No one would fink o’ sellin’ me one” \n“Of course I can. I can do anything I want. Where do you want it?” \n“Someplace sunny, near ther seaside or som’ere. Who’d yer fink yer are anyways?” \n“God” \n“Yeah right, pull ther uvver one!” \n“Why shouldn’t I be God?” \n“Ise always thought there weren’t no God. ‘Ow cuddere be, when there’s peoples like me?” \n“I’m trying to help aren’t I? It’s just sometimes I’m not so good at all this. It was fine when we started and there was only the two of you, but how is anyone supposed manage seven billion of you?” \n“I dunno, yer can’t be God. He’s menna know errything, int he?” \n“You’re asking for proof? You humans are all the same, I try my best but all you want is evidence. How am I meant to help out people who need it when everyone else is asking for miracles on a daily basis? I can’t cope with this anymore. I may as well just say ‘fuck it all’ and leave you all to it. No matter how much I try to fix things you just all keep fucking each other over. Look, I give up okay. If one of you thinks you can do a better job then why don’t you have a go.” \n“But int yer menna be all-powerful an’ stuff?” \n“See, I do a few miracles every now and then and you start spreading rumours. No wonder my workload’s been so heavy recently. Why do you have to embellish the truth so much? Aren’t I good enough the way that I really am? Can’t you just be thankful for what you’ve got?” \n“Mebbe if I ‘ad summin’ then I could be fankful fer it. But I don’t. you never did nuffin fer me an’ now I’m menna love yer or summin’. I’m menna worship someone that can’t even do ‘is own job right?” \n“I never wanted you to worship me. I was happy enough without anyone knowing I even existed. This is what you get for trying to help, I suppose.” \n“I guess ah’ll se’tle fer that ‘ouse then. If yer sure yer can cope wiv that?” \n“Okay, a house then. But-” \n“Why’s there always gotta be a but fer?” \n“LISTEN TO ME!” \n“Awright, awright. I’se lisnin’ ter yer” \n“But. I want you to come and work for me.” \n“Wha’?” \n“You heard me. I want you to work for me.” \n“But why? Why’d summon’ like yer wan’ summon’ like me ter werk fer them anyways?” \n“I told you, I can’t cope. You seem to know what’s what. I need an assistant, you need a house. This works out for the best for both of us.” \n“Wa’e’er. I guess ah’ll do it then. Why not? It’s not like yer really God anyways. Yer prolly jus’ sum kinda loony who lahks windin’ up ther ‘obos.” \n“So that’s an agreement then. You’ll work for me and in exchange I’ll create you a nice house by the seaside. Shall we shake on it?” \n“Yeah, yeah. Migh’ aswell. I aint got nuffin’ ter lose ‘ave I? Ah’ll shake on it.” \n“Thank you sir, I’ll see you on Monday then.” \n“Heh, Munday it is then”\n", "\"Hey God?\" asked the clean, well kept homeless man at the coffee shop. People didn't give him much attention. Homeless people talked to no one all the time.\n\nOH GOOD. YOU HAVE DECIDED TO TALK TO ME AGAIN. HAVE YOU ACCEPTED YOUR RESPONSIBILITY? a loud, thunderous voice asked. \n\nThe people at the coffee shop went into a complete panic, covering their ears and falling to the floor.\n\n\"No. It's not that. I just wanted to let you know that there are these abandoned kittens in this parking lot. Would you mind finding homes for them?\"\n\nI KEEP DOING FAVORS FOR YOU, AND YOU KEEP STRINGING ME ALONG!\n\n\"The favors aren't for me,\" said the homeless man. \"Really, you should be doing them anyways.\"\n\nI'M TIRED OF THIS! IT IS YOUR PURPOSE, YOUR REASON FOR BEING, TO LEAD THESE PEOPLE! WHEN WILL YOU DO AS YOU ARE TOLD!?\n\nSome people had fainted, while others had found the courage to run out of the coffee shop. \n\nFrank took a long sip of his morning coffee. \"When I think they're worth leading. When the system isn't rigged in favor of the wicked. When the world stops being such a shitty place. I've told you a thousand times, find someone else. Now, if you don't mind, I have to go do something about those kittens. No one else will. Especially not you.\"\n" ]	13
	[WP] Journey of a gun	[ "Then,\n\nMy outer layer changes temperature rapidly, it rises with rapid intensity. The ice that has clung to my body for eons flakes away as I hurtle through the atmosphere that belongs to a strange, blue planet. The layers of ozone do nothing to slow my fall as I smash into the planet with an unrestrained fury. Waves of disruption burst forth, destroying nearby mountains and sending up a cloud of dust that will obscure the planet's sun for centuries.\n\nI have been divided a thousand times by the collision, now I lie scattered over the planets surface. From my many parts I see huge creatures die. Some parts witness steaming forest wither and fade, others rest in the depths of briny oceans.\n\nTime passes for the planet, but not for me. All perception takes place in the same moment. But I sense the change of temperature, it is how I feel. The planet freezes and thaws many times, new life emerges from cracks in the planet.\n\nNow,\n\nJack Taylor operates the JLG 750-GH1 Earthmover at the Sinora Iron Ore Project and he's working on autopilot. After a few years scraping the earths crust with one of the world's largest machines all the days start to look the same. But the moneys good and he can drink after work. Sinora is one of the few mines that still allow alcohol.\n\nA huge yellow dump truck comes to a stop next to Jack's machine and waits to be loaded. The JLG reaches down to the bottom of the open cast pit and drags forth over a hundred tonnes of the dark red earth. The ore encrusted dirt is dumped into the back of the awaiting truck. It is just one load out of many for Jack that day.\n\nNobody saw the blue glowing stones nestled amongst the oxidising earth. They sat patiently as the truck drove up the spiralling road and out of the mine. At the surface the truck tilts it's huge tray and dumps the ore onto enormous armoured conveyor belts. The machinery here is almost too large to imagine. The workers stay well back from the incredible energy generated by the falling rock, instead operating the machines by remote control. Nobody saw the glowing rock move into the crushers.\n\n~\n\nIt is hot once more. My form is being changed and mixed. My form begins to flow and meld with inert substances from the earth. The dilution does nothing to weaken me, all of my parts are whole. Every atom can feel.\n\nOnce my form was thousands of times the size of this planet. That was before the heat and fury of creation. All time takes place at once for me, I was used to be one but am now many. \n\nMy new amalgamation begins to cool. I am something different now, a solid form created by heat and chemistry. This change invigorates me, change is a rare occurrence despite my endless scattered parts.\n\n~\n\n\"Orders come in here\". The tall supervisor tells the new man. \n\"You sign for the steel billets and have the forklift driver take them to the pressing machine\" The young man nods his head, he distracted by the crates of rifles moving out of conveyor belt to his right.\n\"Are you paying attention boy?\" The supervisor asks angrily. \"If I find you drunk, you're out of here, it's an easy job kid, try not to screw it up.\"\n\nA few minutes later a truck backs in to the loading bay. The young man guides it back unnecessarily. As the sides of the truck are opened the forklift driver unloads the pallets. He takes them to their correct destination without being told, and the driver leaves without a signature. The young man feels dejected and leans against the factory wall. He thinks about the bottle of whisky in his locker and looks anxiously at his watch.\n\n~\n\nInside the factory the steel billets are loaded into the pressing machine. The raw forms begins to take recognisable shapes as they pass through the various machines on the shop floor. Intricate pieces are formed by coercion and heat along the assembly line. Some of the parts are aware of the change, the heat is sensed and felt. \n\nCompleted units slide along a conveyor belt. Some are tested for functionality at random. The rest are carefully packed into crates for transport around the world. The crates are then moved to the loading area to be placed on a waiting fleet of trucks. \n\nThe forklift driver works quickly without being instructed. The young man who should be directing him watches his activity through a milky haze or liquor, he is sluggish and tired. His stumbles through the loading area into the path of a reversing truck. He is dragged into the powerful dual axles of the trailer. Nobody hears his screams, nobody comes to his aid. There will be an investigation.\n\nLater,\n\n\"The soldiers will be here tomorrow, get out while you still can!\" The people who pass through the village warn us. They yell with fear about the men who are marching up the valley towards us, killing all in their path. The refugees stumble through the streets quickly, shouting these warnings. I look at their blood stained and burned clothes, I see the wounds. The weak are left behind on the streets, they wail into the night.\n\nMost of my people have left, they fled weeks ago. Only a few of us stayed to defend the village. Those of us who still here have nothing left to loose except our meagre crops and livestock. Long ago my family passed into the afterlife, they left me sad and alone. My own end was coming soon, now I will die for something, for my brothers.\n\nMy rifle is old like I am, but it still fires true. It had belonged to my father before me. He told me of a spirit that lived within it, something that was old and powerful. He spoke of the faint blue glow that it made in the middle of the night, if the air was dry and the season hot. He respected the weapon, and passed it onto me. He could never had know what it was to be used for decades after he gave it to me as a boy. I have cleaned an oiled it for today, although it is still in the same immaculate condition it as when it was given to me all those years ago.\n\nI sit on the roof of my hut and point the sacred rifle to the south. The trees that surround the village give cover to the advancing troops. I hear them shouting and calling to each other in a terrible ancient language. My brothers are on the roofs to my left and right. We are scared.\n\nThe first soldiers break through the underbrush to my front. They wear uniforms caked in dried blood and wear necklaces made from flesh. Some are decorated with human heads and jawbones. I take aim and fire. They begin to fall before me.\n\nThe barrel of my rifle begins to overheat in the battle. I reload and empty magazine after magazine into the advancing hoards, but I don't take cover when I should. A round thumps into my chest and takes the fight out of me. I slump down behind the small rock wall on my roof. I feel the life drain from my body. \n\nAs I lay there bleeding in the hot noonday sun I can hear my brothers on the roofs next to me scream as the soldiers scale their huts. Through my heavy eyelids I see the ghastly shapes of flesh ornamented men crawl towards me like spiders. I lean on my rifle and draw it up under my chin, the barrel burns my neck. \n\nMy last vision is of a soft glowing blue.\n\n~\n\nMuch later,\n\n\nMy pieces leave this planet now. There is more cold, more heat. Finally there is a searing fire that disrupts the gravity and sends all of my parts back into the cold void. Some retain their new forms, no part of me will ever corrode, no matter how much it is diluted.\n\n~\n\nMuch, much later,\n\nThe rifle lays on the shore of the beach, the yellow waves wash over it and recede. The temperature is in the thousands of degrees and the rifle is glowing a deep blue.\n\nSlugs from the yellow ocean wiggle and crawl over the angular blue object. They cannot think but are attracted to the rifle out of some primal instinct.\n\nThe movement catches the eye of winged creature floating on the hot air currents miles above the beach. It has found what it has been looking for.\nIt's mate would be pleased by this strange gift. The creature swoops down out of the hazy red sky and picks the object up in it's powerful talons.\n\nIt turns towards the setting sun, beats it's massive wings to gain altitude and starts back to the nest where it's mate is waiting.\n\n\n\n\n\n~\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "It was the finest pistol man has ever crafted. The birth-child of the designs of John Browning, Kalashnikov, and Saive, it was formulated together by a young gunsmith to create the most fearful, yet functional pistol ever created. Modeled after the legendary M1911 and modern Five-Seven with aspects taken from the AK-47 and FN FAL, it boasted a superior design to all guns before it. Made with high-carbon polypropylene and stainless steel and designed to fire multiple rounds from the same barrel, the handgun fired a multitude of rounds, ranging from the standard 9mm rounds to .50 action express rounds to full sized rifle rounds, at subsonic speeds. Its adaptability was key, and it was no slouch in the maintenance department either, requiring very little care to remain in its prime. Its appearance was sleek, stealthy, and very exquisite. The carvings on the slide represented the wind and the grip displayed the head of a dragon. It looked unassuming, but it was anything but underwhelming. One might even confuse it as alien tech. Only one was ever crafted, and only was ever needed. It was called a multitude of names, but its creator called it \"Fate\". \n\nIts creation was immediately cursed. The moment it was crafted, loan sharks from a massive drug cartel kicked down the door to his house and smashed his belongings. His family was tied up and horrifically tortured as they beckoned his name. The house went up in flames as the gunsmiths face paled. The gunsmith rushed to the loan sharks, gun in hand. However, it was too late for his family. His wife was murdered and his children were disfigured beyond recognition. With anger beyond words, he shot the sharks and made sure to blow them into smithereens. He couldn't live anymore. His lifelong goal, finally accomplished, at the cost of all that he held dear. Abandoning the gun, the young man disappeared. \n\nThe sergeant on the scene was the one who found it. Noticing the only object among the ashes, he picked it up and was immediately taken in by the mysterious, yet beautiful design. He couldn't bare to let the gun become \"evidence\". Hiding the pistol, the sergeant and the rest of the investigation team found no evidence or traces. The case was called off and the pistol was taken in by the cop. He realized just how powerful it was when he tested it out in the firing range. Given massive power, the once just mind of the sergeant corrupted into a violent psychopath killing in the name of \"justice\". He rose through the ranks as his superiors died from \"mysterious accidents\". It was only until a rising detective caught him in the act that the cop revealed his wickedness. It was a difficult fight, but the power of the gun has made the sergeant complacent and cocky, which marked his downfall. The detective picked up the gun and immediately felt its influence. The power was too much to handle, and as such the detective sent the pistol away in a package on a random carrier after arresting the corrupt man.\n\nIt was dropped in the middle of nowhere when a flight attendant noticed the unauthorized package. A guerrilla fighter noticed it as he walked by on his way to battle. The box had deteriorated quite a bit and the woman uncovered the artifact. Like those before her, she was mesmerized by its looks and influence. It became the only weapon she used in her battle. She was the lone survivor of the ambush-gone-wrong, and she realized it wasn't by luck that she lived. She continued to prove her worth, time and time again, until she killed the leader of her faction in a coup. Reigning as the new dictator, she ruled with an iron fist, killing anyone that dared to oppose her. The people rioted several times, but with her leading the charge every time, it was futile. Finally, her own servant killed her by poisoning her meal. The palace she was living in was torn down with the gun hidden in the rubble.\n\nA couple of decades past. The gun only brought misery and greed upon those it met. The same story happened over and over again. In an attempt to destroy the cursed weapon, the pistol's latest owner tossed it into the Pacific, where it floated aimlessly until a grizzled man fished it out by chance. He lived on a deserted island, a self-imposed exile. The gun had shown signs of use, but it appeared to hum faintly in the outcast's hands. This man was different. He knew of its power and he became the master, not the other way around. He knew what it was capable of without even firing it. The grizzled man smiled. \"Hush, your journey is over. I'm sorry you had to experience the dark side of humanity. I know you're saddened. But, now I will show you some kindness. You have earned it.\" The man carried the gun back to his home, where he restored it as best as he could with what he had. He spent the next day preparing a memorial and crying out a well of tears. He gently laid the gun in the hole. \"May you rest in peace Margaret, Samantha, Nick. Goodbye, Fate.\" It was finally allowed to sleep. \n\n\n\n " ]	2
	[WP] A major film studio has been trolling this sub looking for new film ideas. Your post has been chosen.	[ "ring ring ring \n\nI picked up the phone not expecting much. \n\n\"Hello\" I said through the phone.\n\n\"Is this /u/Thief39\" somebody from the other line side asked.\n\n\"This is Peter Jackson, I have seen your work on /r/WritingPrompts and I want you to write a movie\"\nI almost dropped the phone in shock. \nI replied \"What, why me. I mean I barely write on /r/WritingPrompts. Why not pick some of the bigger names and I'm barely 16.\"\n\nPeter Jackson replied, \"I believe you have talent someone just needs you help getting it out.\"\n\nI said \"Fine, when do I start.\"\n\n\"We will send the Plane Tickets immediately. You can be lead creative director for our new X-Men movie.\"\n\nI fainted. \n\n\nEdit: This is one of my first writing prompts so please don't be too harsh. ", "I took the phone away from my ear and started hard at it for a moment, then took the number from the caller ID and put it into Google. Then I put the phone back to my ear.\n\n\"You're kidding.\" Scintillating dialogue, Doc, well done. If that doesn't convince them you're a writer, nothing will.\n\nThe voice on the other end of the phone was enthused and Californian at me.\n\n\"Which post?\"\n\nThere was more enthused Californian. Fortunately, I speak it fluently.\n\n\"Really? Not the one where the Scooby Gang confront Cthulhu? Or...no? Rights issues? Well, I can certainly....\"\n\nThe voice went on at some length. Focus groups had been involved already, apparently.\n\n\"What?\"\n\nHe explained it again.\n\n\"Really?\"\n\nThere was an affirmation.\n\n\"Well, actually, I'm a little shocked. I'm a British amateur writer; I'm puppyishly thankful for the attention of anyone, let alone someone from an actual film production company that has a name I recognize because it has produced movies I have seen and liked. I will most assuredly sign over the rights to whatever you want, and I am beyond delighted that you are interested in my work.\n\n\"As attention starved as I am, however, I'm not stupid. I will sign over the film rights for a percentage of the gross after merchandise.\n\n\"Hello?\n\n\"Hello?\n\n\"Ahhh, there you are. After that thud, I thought you might have fainted. \n\n\"Oh. You did faint. I'm so terribly sorry. But yes, percentage of the gross. When I see something contractual from you we'll discuss this further. Meantime, I'm off to find myself some legal representation.\"\n\nIs what I WISH I'd said. Oh, if only I'd been compose mentis enough to say that. Thank you so very much l'esprit d'e-fucking-scalier.\n\nInstead, what I said was \n\n\"Well, actually, I'm a little shocked. I'm a British amateur writer; I'm puppyishly thankful for the attention of anyone, let alone someone from an actual film production company that has a name I recognize because it has produced movies I have seen and liked. I will most assuredly sign over the rights to whatever you want, and I am beyond delighted that you are interested in my work. \n\n\"May I possibly interest you in my service as a screenwriter for this project? No? Oh, I see. Someone in mind. Excellent. Good. Good. Look, I'm really impressed and grateful and I will do practically anything to see this project through.\"\n\nWhich is why I paid for my own flight to L.A., stopped eating for a month in order to afford a place to stay and am now sitting in the office of a movie producer slightly worried that I'll be spending the afternoon on my knees.\n\nAgain.", "\"Kid Peter Black,\" greeted Richie Jay, \"nice to finally meet you.\"\n\n\"I feel the same way,\" Kid Peter Black said, \"You are such a respected producer and director. I loved that movie you put out about the turtle machines that were made in space and sent to earth to destroy the vampire clan.\"\n\n\"It was a vision I had for quite a while,\" Richie Jay smiled. \"The matter at hand. Kid Peter Black, Hollywood is always looking for new stories, really artistic ideas that can shape the world.\"\n\n\"Wow, you know,\" Kid Peter Black stumbled, \"I always wondered if movie studios would try to make my story 'The Myth of Spiro', I thought it could work, adventure trilogy about the battle of wisdom and ignorance, monsters and heroes, good and evil.\"\n\nRichie Jay looked towards his assistant awkwardly and corrected, \"No, Kid Peter Black, this is all about a forum post you made on reddit to 'writing prompts'. I believe you answered a prompt about a 12 year old girl who gets the power to turn into a bird and she uses her new ability to fight werewolves, but ultimately falls in love with the leader of the Werewolf den.\"\n\nPeter Black rubbed his face, \"I have written a bunch of stories about human nature and life and death--\"\n\nRichie Jay interrupted, \"Not interested in any of that, tell us, would you consider writing the screenplay for 'Avian Girl' and how do you feel about making her bisexual?\"\n\n\"How much will you pay me?\"\n\nedit" ]	3
	[WP] We make first contact with aliens, only to find that we are the advanced ones	[ "I didn't know what t' make of it. All the cows but one come home every night. Wednesday, it was all of 'em but Old Sally come back to the barn at dark. The night before that, she was in and the black heifer stayed gone. Before that it was another and another- but always, only one cow stayed out. So, I got to thinking, what the heck would make a cow do that? And I can't think of nothing. I been a dairy farmer all my life. You know we never seen nothing like this before. So, I gets my brother and my brother-in-law, and we set out to see just what the heck one cow does at night by herself. So, Ole and me, we picks up Matthias in the truck and then we all go up the logging road just above my back pasture. We kills the lights and the engine and sit there drinking a few beers while we watch the herd. Sure enough, come dark, they start heading to the barn like they're used to. As they're walking on the cow path, I see one of them stop to scratch her ear and suddenly there's this beam of greenish light shooting down from the clouds above. I see my cow get sucked up into the air. I'm sitting there in the truck with my mouth open, and Ole, he starts her up and floors it and starts driving down to the pasture. Matthias is cussin' up a storm cuz he's got beer on his crotch of his pants now, and me - I'm just thinking -what the heck, about my cow.\n\nWe get down there and we get out of the truck to look up at the place where my cow got sucked up into the sky and I see this light coming from a thing that's not an airplane or a helicopter, but something like that, sort of, with a big open bay, and my cow is standing on a gangway sort of thing. She's just standing there looking around. There's these short people all around her - some kind of people, but not really people like us. They were like what all them TV shows say- gray and big headed, with big black eyes; skinny, with kind of a line for a mouth.\n\nAnyhow, I sees them all surrounding my cow and she's looking around at them, and I'm not kidding, they're speaking into a little thing that takes their language and turns it into English, like what we speak. They're all serious and speaking their language with serious looking faces, and the translator thing is asking my cow questions. They ask her about the natural resources and whatnot, the military powers, and the governments- you name it, they are asking my cow. She just keeps looking at them, and finally, she moos a long, low, moo. I can tell she's had enough of this and I'm feeling pretty bad for her. The aliens all start tittering and moving about. To me they look like they're pissed off, sort of. I can hear them all chitter chattering in their language, don't none of it make no sense to me, until one of them happens to stand near the translator device and I hear him say \"It's no use. These soldiers are too well trained to give us any useful information. That's the fifth one to resist interrogation. I think we'd better start with a lesser species - like one of those two legged servants that feeds and cares for this type.\"\n\n", "IO, YEAR 2072.\n\n\nDay 1, 01:36 Local Time\n\nIt looked so...pristine. Untouched by life. Untouched by humanity.\n\nJack thought back to the condition of Earth when he left on this voyage 18 months ago. Climate change had taken a turn for the worse in the last decade, with no end in sight. Once-great cities were now in shambles, decrepit monuments to the history of Mankind. The unification of world governments into \"The Collective\" had stalled things, for a time, but the damage had already been done.\n\nThe Collective government had proposed the Io Initiative, to send scientists (such as himself) to Jupiter's moon in hopes of finding a suitable place to begin relocating humanity. Of course, after the unification, the development of space travel had been placed under control of the newly-formed collective military. They'd made great leaps of innovation, but all in the name of militarizing a new frontier. And now, they were doing just that. \n\nJack was worried. The military doesn't have a history of leaving things to the civilians, he thought. Why do they need weapons, anyways? It's not like there's anything they can shoot at. \n\nHe heard someone speaking over his in-suit radio. \"This is Colonel Neumann. Non-vital personel, please report to cargo area three to begin unloading.\" The Colonel's voice cut off his train of thought.\n\nDay 5, 17:05 Local Time\n\nWith the unloading completed and basic shelters set up, Jack and the other scientists began their work. As a biologist, Jack suspected he wouldn't have much actual science to do. If there were life out here, I think we would've found it by now. Or it would have found us, I suppose. The idea of Alien life was still popular back on Earth, but at all evidence pointed to the contrary. Not one of several hundred flight missions, extraplanetary landers, and the like had resulted in any concrete evidence for the existence of Xenobiology. Still, he could assist the medical staff with any problems they might have.\n\nDay 17, 21: 52 Local Time\n\n\"Look at this.\" The Infrared viewer showed a cluster of bright spots.\n\n\"What's it supposed to be?\" Jack asked. \"We know Io is Volcanically active, why should we be surprised that there's warm stuff on the surface?\"\n\n\"It's not the fact that there's something warm, it's - just keep watching.\" Dr. Miyakazi replied.\n\n\"Okay. Will do.\" The splotches appeared to be moving. \"They're moving. Is that what you're talking about?\"\n\n\"Yes - Yes! Exactly! Don't you understand?\" Dr. Miyakazi sounded ectatic.\n\n\"So, why are they moving?\" Jack questioned.\n\n\"Well, I believe - I know this sounds hopeful, but - I think that might be something living.\"\n\n\"Living? Come on. You know just as well as I do that if there were any life out here, it would've been found years ago on one of the flybys.\"\n\n\"I can't explain it, but there it is. Come on - is it really that unbelievable? That there's some sort of life out here?\"\n\nJack thought to himself. It's always possible, I suppose, however unlikely. \"Okay, so let's pretend for a minute that's what it is. what do we do now?\"\n\n\"We'll have to tell the Colonel. You know how he is about people leaving the compound.\" Once again, Jack was nervous. What if he says no? What if he says yes ? Which is worse?\n\nDay 18, 10:33 Local Time\n\n\"Over there!\" Jack quickly turned to the right. Near the center of a crater, two spots on the IR Scanner lit up brightly. When he took out his long-range viewer, he saw two small, greenish-brown \"things\" next to each other. He wasn't sure what to call them. They looked much like apes from earth, save their hue, which matched the color of the surrounding landscape. \n\n\"Bring us around, Sergeant.\" Once again, the Colonel's sharp voice cut through Jack's thoughts. \n\n\"Colonel, we might want to stop further away. We don't want to scare them.\" Dr. Miyakazi suggested.\n\n\"Doctor, please do not tell me how to command my team. Sergeant, bring us in. 100 meters.\" The small transport drove up to the rim of the crater. Colonel Neumann stepped out first and went around to the back.\n\n\"See, Jack, I told you! Alien life!\" Dr. Miyakazi whispered excitedly. She stepped out of the transport, and Jack followed behind. \n\nSuddenly, a loud Crack, then another, from the other side of the vehicle. The two life-forms collapsed onto the ground. \"And that is that. Doctors Miyakazi and Stephenson, please return to the vehicle.\" Colonel Neumann returned to the front of the transport with a rifle in his hand.\n\n\"What the hell was that? First contact with alien life, and you decide to kill it?\" Dr. Miyakazi shouted. \n\n\"Doctor, my job here is to make sure the Io Initiative proceeds without any disturbances. That includes indigenous life. I don't give a damn about whatever green apes live on this rock, and I won't hesitate to kill any more that I see.\"\n\n\"I can't let you do that, Colonel. This is too important, damn it! don't you understand?\"\n\n\"Doctor, I suggest you return to the vehicle. Now.\" He raised the rifle in her direction. His ice-cold voice sent a chill down Jack's spine.\n\nHer eyes widened. \"No! I cannot allow you to just - just kill the first living extraterrestrial life that humanity has ever found!\" She took a step forward. Another loud crack, a cry of pain, and her lifeless body tumbled into the crater. \n\n\"And as for you, Doctor Stephenson.\" The rifle was now aimed at Jack. \"You are not to speak of the events of this outing. Doctor Miyakazi tripped over the edge of the crater and tore open her suit during the fall. She suffocated due to lack of oxygen. Is that understood?\"", "I opened my eyes slowly, adjusting to the light as I awoke. \n\nHow did I get here? The last thing I remembered was wandering alone at night. Bright lights appeared in the sky. Then a white mist descended and surrounded me. Then nothing.\n\nThe room I was in was covered in white and shiny surfaces. The only objects in sight were the bed I was lying in and a large rectangular surface, raised on a platform a little taller than the bed I was on. I stumbled off the bed, and looked at the blank walls around me. Before I could do anything more, a hole opened in the wall behind me and a strange being entered the room. I turned, startled. It didn't look scary exactly, just strange. It started making noises in a low, steady voice - it seemed to be trying to communicate.\n\n\"What do you want from me?\" I asked. The thing made some more noises that I didn't understand. Then he (I assumed it was a he, although I had no reason for thinking that) moved over to the strange-looking surface, about half his height, set between my bed and the wall he had come through, which had since closed itself back up. He touched the surface a few times, and noises came out of it. These were noises I recognized. Garbled, as though compiled from many voices, recorded and mixed together to create a message.\n\n\"Welcome… We are friend… Hello… Not scary… Far away…\"\n\nI didn't know what to think. Was this a dream? It didn't feel like a dream. \"Where am I?\" I demanded. \"How did I get here?\"\n\nHe touched the surface some more. Did he understand me?\n\n\"Up… sky… We are friend… Far away…\"\n\nThis couldn't be happening. This was too elaborate to be a prank. Aliens? He certainly didn't look like anything I'd ever seen. But nobody really believed that. The idea that there was some intelligent life outside of our world was crazy. Even the most advanced minds and civilizations hadn't found any proof that they existed, let alone that we would ever meet them. \n\nNot that we hadn't tried. We scanned the skies, searched, wondered, hypothesized. We had yet to find even the possibility of intelligent. But obviously, whatever stood before me had done better. They found us. They had traveled unknown distances and had learned enough to manipulate our language. Somehow, these aliens had found us and had come here to meet us.\n\nBut why would they take me? As some sort of experiment? I had to establish communication somehow. Maybe if I let him know I could understand him. \"You're from far away. A friend. Why am I here?\"\n\nHe touched the surface several more times before the mixed, garbled voice that I could understand came back. \"We come in peace… Explore… learn, discover… We are friend.\"\n\nWow, they were really pushing the friendship thing. Maybe they felt the need to overcompensate, considering that they had kidnapped me. \"Why did you take me?\"\n\nHe touched the surface some more. \"Come talk… Learn… We are friend… Tell us about yourself…\"\n\nThis was crazy! I wasn't giving this alien any more information until I knew who he was. Or what. \"No, you tell me about yourself. Where are you from? What are you?\"\n\nThis time, he didn't touch the surface. Instead, he used his own voice. He lifted a long appendage and bent it, gesturing toward himself. \n\n\"Human.\"\n" ]	3
	[WP] Heaven has visiting hours, once per year, per (living) person.	[ "\"Hi sweetie, How are you? Its been so long, oh you look so beautiful!\"\n\"Mom, mom listen! Heaven have set new rules with these things, okay?. They dont do tour around hell anymore, so when my group had our open house tours, tommy\"\n\"I know sweetheart, i asked him to bring you to me here. He ask me for a return favor which now seems like not worth it\"\n\"What is it?\"\n\"Forget it, we dont have time to worry 'bout the dead. How's Norah?\n\"She is doing very well. She just got accepted to Princeton.\"\n\"That's wonderful! Oh i wish i could see her now, to give her a hug and kisses.\"\n\"Uh mom, why can't Tommy find us somewhere more convenient rather than this? I can only see your face and i can't even reach you.\"\n\"They boost the security for borders sweetie, you see now that heaven's finally filled with humans who constantly breaks the rule, they started to change their ways.\"\n\"I sure hope they can change and justify your kind of sin.\" \n\"God must know that time is changing, justice is different now and then.\"\n\"Hope is dangerous sweetie.\"\n\"Look what hope has done to me.\"\n\"I always hoped that i could have a loving, functional family.\"\n\"I also hoped that one day he is going to change to better, or if he could regain any kind of sanity he had, or if he could realize that everytime he calls me a whore and hit me it kills me everyday,or if he realize that is was his own daughter he molested\"\n\"Or if he wouldn't dare to point a loaded gun to my daughter's face\"\n\"Mom...\"\n\"I hoped i survived the shot so i could always protect my babies\" \n\"I hoped when i killed him, i wouldn't have to meet him ever again.\"\n\"I love you mom\"\n\"Sweetie you have to go back now, Someone saw me here.\"\n\"What? no, we barely have 5 minutes together!\"\n\"Goodbye sweetheart, i will see you again.\"", "“So, are you thinking of staying with us at the end?” The angel’s face was warm and comforting as he or she smiled. The androgyny was strong in this one. ‘Jesus, I shouldn’t be thinking about angel-genitals on a visit to heaven’, Bob thought to himself. ’Jesus here - I know you shouldn’t Bob, just try and be good whilst you’re here’. Bob noted with that phrase he should probably abscond from blaspheming too.\n\n“I’m, er, not sure just yet. I’m hoping to live a bit longer yet, right?” He had hoped for a little feedback from the angel as he gave a wink and a grin, but the smile on its face continued, in a nonchalant stand-off with a veiled truth.\n\n“Who is it you’re here to visit, did you check with Saint Peter at the gates as to whether they made it in?” The angelic tones did nothing to hide the evident reek of bureaucracy in this place. \n\n“Tell you the truth…” Bob gestured with his hand for the angel to introduce itself.\n\n“Michael”, ’of course it’s Michael’.\n\n“Tell you the truth Mike, I’m not here to visit any one person. I want an inventory. I want to see who made it here and in what state they made it. I’ve always wondered you know, does a man who died at 99 choose his age when he gets here, or is he 99 forever? Because, that policy can go to hell”.\n\n“Actually, that is the policy in hell Bob”\n\n“You’re kidding? And up here?”\n\n“Up here, we pick for you.”\n\n“You pick? Why wouldn’t you let the soul choose themselves?”\n\n“Well, you see, as you probably know God forgives all sins, but when he does forgive he remembers at what point you sinned, and those points are off-limits. He can’t have you existing in heaven with the body of a sinner after all.”\n\n“So, say if I spent the healthiest years of my life doing sinful things, I can never be that healthy in heaven?”\n\n“Health has no bearing on you – we’re talking about appearance here Bob. If you squander your most beautiful years you shouldn’t be expected to be that way upon death. Unless you end up in hell of course.”\n\n“Well, what about attraction then? Do feelings of attraction still exist? Are souls as reliant on appearance as the body is on earth? Ah, forget that actually, I keep forgetting you’re androgynous.” Pushing his luck, Bob decided to continue, “whilst we’re on the topic, what’s your, er, y’know like? You got one, both, none, or some heavenly downstairs mix-up down there?” The gesture at the angels genitals made him wonder if Jesus was going to tell him off for being a nuisance. He did't, so Bob assumed he must have been busy.\n\n“Attraction still exists and it works exactly as it does on earth”\n\n“Well that’s not too useful to be honest Mike. Most people don’t even understand attraction to begin with, and that’s not to mention that my wife may be sixty-five whilst I’m forty! Is there anyone I can speak to about this arrangement?”\n\n“You can try”. The angel’s response was confusing. Bob assumed that most heavenly tenants would be snooty or something; ‘ugh, a mortal, what is the establishment doing bringing these meatwads up here?’.\n\n“Can you take me to someone then please? I don’t have anyone in particular in mind.”\n\n“Sure thing Bob. You can ask as many as you like – they’re right through this door”. Bob turned around to look at the direction the angel nodded in. The door, which wasn’t there a second ago was now very much there, which annoyed Bob, however when he turned back the angel had gone, and that made Bob slightly happier because that meant he didn’t have to wonder about its bits anymore.\n\nThe doors swung open faster than he intended. He was greeted by an intense assault on his ear-drums. Bob had never heard a football stadium full of crying babies, so it took him a few moments to collect his senses and realise what was going on. It finally dawned on him what Michael had been saying, ’when he does forgive he remembers at what point you sinned, and those years are off-limits’. He laughed to himself, then he felt really rather angry about it all. The entire population of Heaven were babies. Every single person that ever made it here made it as a baby – their purest moment alive.\n\n“Oh hell no!” Another angel poofed in beside him.\n\n“Hello Bob, I’m afraid your time is up, are you ready to return to earth?”\n\n“I am, er”, it was a different angel than the one before and it still made Bob feel confused in his pant-area. “I am, yes, can I just ask one quick question?”\n\n“Sure thing Bob”\n\n“Are there many babies in hell – that you know of, of course?”\n\n“Last time I saw Lucy she said there wasn’t any. It’s very difficult for a baby to have sinned.”\n\n“Thank God for that!”\n\n“I suppose I could?”, mused the angel.\n\n“Listen, does Hell do a day like this at all? I feel I need to check all my options y’know?”\n\n“In fact they do. Lucy picks out her favourite day of the year for it. It’s on December 25th.”\n\n“Well, I’ll be damned!”\n\n“You’ll never make it here with that attitude Bob”. The angel clicked its fingers, sending Bob home.\n", "\"Hello Alice.\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"It's been what .. 10 years?\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"The kids are a handful i know, if only I could help.\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"Can i see my kids now?\"\n\n\"You murdered us.\"\n\n\"Yes but i did it painlessly. Look i SAVED you all. You owe me.\"\n\n\"You set the house on fire. The last thing i remembered was the violent shrieks of our children. Not to mention all the pain i went through.\"\n\n\"Good bye, my love.\"\n\n\n\"Go to hell.\"\n\nP.S i have no clue how to format on mobile." ]	3
Could be scattered with your ashes, alive in a coffin, whatever!	[WP] Your conciousness lives on in whatever is left of your body when you die.	[ "Every year I get bigger. I spread smoothly and comfortably, like jam, across continents and oceans, by wind and by wave, and soon I'll envelope the whole world. Earth used to seem so huge, so overwhelmingly gigantic to me that the thought of its size, let alone its beauty, could terrify me. I used to have dreams of being trapped in abysses in desert prairies where I'd never be found, dragged to the bottom of the ocean to live in the darkness and the cold. All I ever wanted, in my lifetime or afterward, was to be as free as possible. And now, I guess, that's what I am, maybe more. How much more liberty can you ask for, than having eyes and ears all over the world, forever watching the private lives and fauna and flora, like a cross between the Discovery Channel and reality TV.\n\nAnd when I'm bored of that I let my gaze literally drift to cities and towns, looking at strangers or checking in on my friends and family. Sometimes, it's painful, seeing people so lively and happy, and for a few instances it makes me miss my body, but I had my turn being alive and the satisfaction I feel is more than I could ever hope for. And I'm not alone. All the other cremated souls tell me about their adventures, the things they've seen, the places so far from where I was cast that I can only dream of visiting for the time being. But watching over my home, letting my presence protect them, I feel like the Holy Ghost.\n\nBut whenever I think about that kind of thing I remember my wife. She respected my beliefs, and I respected hers. But my belief was not a spirituality, it was a superstition, the fear that I might have to spend an eternity trapped in a coffin, and I never expected to be right. Of course she turned me to dust when I died, even though I couldn't stop her from burying me, and no one else would. But she obeyed my wish. And now I'll never see her again.\n\nIn a few hundred years, when her Mossiah's born and raises all the good, buried people, I'll look down on her unable to communicate. If there is a Mossiah. I believe there is, I have to believe. I have to believe in an afterlife, not for myself, but for her, because I couldn't bear to watch her scream with her mouth closed until she decomposes, and maybe then, maybe, we can be together again.", "This may be the most difficult thing I've ever done. One through line of thought. With all the sensation of being, it's hard to focus on anything at all. Pieces scattered to the ocean, to the skies, to the ends of the earth. Fish, blackness, sand, clouds and jet streams, forests and fire, cities and people and dirt. Always watching, a ghost of the world. \n\nThere was pain, body wracked in torment, then nothing. Perfectly numb. Soon came the fire, then came the scatter. Since, I have just drifted along and away and around. I have seen countless stories and joys and horrors, but these thoughts are slowly slipping away. There's just so much to see...", "Close your eyes. What do you see? They want to know: is it pop pop? Light emanating from the telescopic vision tunneling from the other side of your eyelids? Can you hear me? Wake up, wake up...\n\nYou persist in unexpected ways. Macaroni angels saved in the attic. A dress you haven't fit into for years. In pictures and videos accumulated we cannot find your residue, rather, it is unnerving in the way that you still talk, still stare with eyes, still smile bright, blowing out the candles like an echo from the wrong side of the uncanny valley, almost there until the pedantry of memory reminds us. No, your pictographic remains lack tactile beauty and sensory form. They are your ghost. An unfriendly haunting. Saliva from the dropper they used to put water in your mouth as they said their goodbyes, however, is the genuine real. It will remain a totem at your shrine in the heart of your daughter forever after, held in votive reverence alongside the moan you gave when she whispered her name and uttered her love.\n\nSo it goes, so it goes; on one grave is newly broken dirt and upon another a single rose.\n\nYour sounds are no longer your own. They belong to others, found on streets and in malls at unexpected times and greeted with inopportune tears. To your progeny, both physical and otherwise (for there is a child born in every hug, every shared joke and secret confidence), it will be you returned. They will find you in faces and manners. Cousins, strangers, child kin born long after you have departed will all bear your resurrection. Reincarnated through resemblance. Some with say yes. Others will say no. Each will choose to their own comfort. \n\nBut then they hear you laugh. Glimmer of hope, nostalgia stirred, then pretensions of adulthood frown in remonstrance, praying it can't be, it can't be.\n\nAlan says that we are nothing more than the sum of accumulated memories. From the bound limbs of zazen they scoff--he's said nothing at all, but nothing it is. To which you return, for a time. Gone is pain and love, fondness and grief, regret, remorse, the burden of debt. You will never pay rent again, either in monthly checks or obligatory phone calls to the consanguinal albatrosses that are your fellow travelers. This is freedom. If only you could breathe it.\n\nBut--take solace! For soon you will break down and commingle with the earth. Then some deep roots will pull you up again into the wind blown fields. For even grass has deep roots. Every blade shares the same lineage and kinship to the ur-woman as her issue that walk upright and order the Earth as if they own singular purchase upon its fate. Humility will be your next iteration, however, and tranquility, for such concerns are below the esteem of grass, and because you will feel the kiss of sunlight upon your countenance once more.", "At first, I clung to the heartbeats of my children. \n\nIt was all so confusing. And their thudding hearts, once a part of me, were soothing.The stiff bodily remains being carted and stuffed and painted for my funeral held little interest, other than mild disgust. \n\nFor the service, though, my daughters' emotions drove my fragile self out. I skipped wildly from their quaking hearts to the quiet dresses in my closet to the bustling road near my childhood home. My worldly travels pulled me apart, as thin as dust on a country road. On a desperate whim, I reached for Jonathan. Like falling into bed, I settled into his eyes. It was a wonder that I had left so much of myself on him. I was still on his lips, I suppose. Or mingled with his smell. But through the reflection of his eyes I could step into his mind as easily as I did my eldest daughter. His, I knew, would be the first connection to go. \n\nBut for that day he was with me completely. And when people looked at him their eyes filled with empathy, love. I love you too, I said. Again and again and again. From the coffin I could only watch as tragic emotions played out across the faces of my loved ones, unable to reach out. There were also the ones who looked smugly at the diamond still vibrant on my hand, or the cracks in the corpse's make-up. Those faces I no longer remember.\n\nWhen the service was over, I stepped into the cold remains of my body. A cusp, I thought. Be here. (Did you know spirits can smile? Ironically, meditation in death is even more difficult.) I wanted to embody the experience of being lowered into the earth. But with my inner eye closed and my being settled into the greatest mass of my body left on earth, the suffering finally broke though. Too young, my friends had said over and over again. Too vibrant. And yet, a life worth living. ", "Darkness. Can't breathe. Where am I? A voice is screaming inside my head. It knows something I don't. \"Ahhhhh,\" screams the voice, an endless, wordless scream of terror. I shut it out. Need to think.\n\nI move. Try to move. My body must be pinned down. Legs and arms unresponsive. I can't open my eyes, but I can see. Impossible, but I won't fight it. I'm on a bed. I'm in a box. My senses are skewed.\n\n\"Ahhhhhhh,\" the voice screams on. I must not listen to the voice. I can solve this, if I can gather enough information. I'm not strapped down. I don't feel any ropes. I feel... cold.\n\nMind over matter. I will lift my hand. I WILL lift my hand. I struggle for a few minutes (hours?) but my hand does not move. Maybe if I start smaller. A finger.\n\n\"Ahhhhh!\" \n\nWill that screaming never stop? I feel shattered. Broken. My face hurts. I should be in agony but the pain doesn't really penetrate this fog blocking my mind.\n\n\"Ahhhhhhh,\" screams the voice. My voice, but not my own. If only I could remember how I got here. What is the last thing I remember?\n\nMy mental query makes the voice shriek louder. It had become almost white noise until now. Maybe I shouldn't try to remember.\n\n\"Ahhhh!\" \n\nWill you please Shut UP! Okay, where am I? What are the possibilities? I could be in a cell. A cage. A crawlspace. I could be in a coma.\n\n\"Ahhhh\" \n\nThe voice nearly deafens me. Don't go that way. Down that road lies madness. I am turned away before I can resist.\n\nWhat do I remember? The voice is fighting me. Don't remember. Don't think. Don't. Don't.\n\nAmber. Amber with the green eyes and golden hair. There was a party. \n\nI'd been in love with Amber for as long as I can remember. She was my dream girl and I was going to marry her. The only problem was she didn't know it.\n\n\"Ahhhhh!\" The voice so loud now it feels like it's battering me, physically.\n\n\"Ahhhhh,\" it screams, but I understand: \"Don't think of Amber.\"\n\nI fight it. I am the stronger one. I am in control here. I was at the party. I was going to ask Amber...\n\n\"Ahhhh!\"\n\n...ask Amber... \n\n\"Ahhh!\"\n\n...ask Amber out. And then...\n\nDid I ask her? Did she say yes? For a moment, I think I feel warm. (Why am I so cold?) It feels wrong though. She didn't say yes.\n\nWhy can't I remember anything after that? \n\n\"Ahhhh!\" \n\nShut. Up. Now.\n\nI can't think with all that damned screaming. There are other voices now. \n\n\"Dearly beloved,\"\n\n\"Ahhhh!\"\n\nShe turned me down. \n\n\"...not to mourn the passing of a loved one...\"\n\nI remember...\n\n\"Ahhhh!\"\n\nI remember feeling sad. What does a guy have left when all his dreams have been shattered?\n\nShattered. I feel the pain more now. Is it because I'm remembering something? Consciousness returning? The effect of that damned shrieking?\n\n\"Ahhhh!\"\n\nIf I could move my arms\n\n\"to celebrate a release from pain\"\n\n\"Ahhhh!\" \n\nIf I could move my arms I would strangle that voice.\n\n\"...a soul that is now with GOD!\"\n\n\"Ahhh\"\n\nI was crying. I remember crying. Amber had rejected me and I was crying. My older brother. \n\n\"Man up, Marco,\" Steve said. \"That skank isn't worth it anyway.\"\n\n\"Ahhhh!\"\n\n\"...a young life, but a full life...\"\n\nWhat the hell are they talking about? Who are they?\n\n\"Ahhhh\"\n\nWait. If there are people, they can help me.\n\nI try to scream. I can't control my mouth. I can't control my body.\n\n\"Ahhh!\"\n\nIf you're going to scream, at least do it where other people can hear you.\n\n\"Ahhh!\"\n\n'Ahhh,' to you too. Steve doesn't understand. No one understands. Standing on top of the University building. The wind biting my cheeks. Falling. Falling. Screaming. I don't want to die.\n\nI don't want to die. Someone catch me. Someone stop me. \n\n\"Ahhhh!\"\n\nAhhhh! Pain. Incredible pain. Cold. Dark. Screaming.\n\nSilence.\n\nSo this is it. How long is eternity? My funeral. I'm at my funeral. Will I fade away when it's over? Or, will I spend eternity listening to that damnable screaming? I don't want to die.\n\n\"Ahhh!\"\n\n\nAhhhhhhh!!\n\n---\n####\n\nnew year's challenge: \n\n-008", "I regretted this, I really did. I always loved the idea of being burned to ashes, and then have my ashes thrown in space. Be thrown into the abyss, be thrown into the unknown. Maybe my soul will follow, maybe my ashes will spread and spread and spread, maybe some will get caught into an orbit of another planet.\n\nBut I’m getting ahead of myself here. Usually always am… I was not young, but not old too. I had a steady job, a nice family. I always told my wife (more joking than serious) that I would love if my ashes get scattered in space. She would always laugh with me. I barely remember how I die, I was just walking down the street, then I felt pain slamming against me from all angles. I came to with red and blue lights irritating me. Amidst the chaos, I could hear my wife crying.\n\nMy wife was a good woman, despite me joking, she whipped up the money to take me to the International Space Station, where they throw my ashes away. I never did figure out how they got my ashes on an escape trajectory from the solar system, but that mystery belongs to the living. My first month was so exciting, seeing Earth slowly zooming away until it’s just a blue dot. After a while I passed by Neptune. It was pretty, watching it zooming in then zooming out.\n\nBut once the sun becomes a dot, the place became cold. After a while I got bored, the stars remained the same. My ashes are slowly expanding until it was about two miles across, roughly. But who knows how long it was since I died. I was starting to forget how I even died. I never thought this far with my joke. I rather be placed inside an urn, so I can hear my wife’s voice, since I was also forgetting the sound of hers. Even my children voice…\n\nStuck in the abyss with no way out, now I know how people feel when they get buried in an unmarked grave..." ]	6
A young man who led a mostly selfish life until his son was born 3 years ago. He battled his own demons and drug/alcohol abuse but it never got in the way of him being an excellent father. This man just had his parental rights taken away by his sons mother. With nothing left to live for he decides to take his life. Wrote his final thoughts and his suicide letter describing his bitterness towards his sons mother and his love for his son.	[WP] write a suicide note from the perspective of a man who just lost everything he ever loved.	[ "You meant everything to me. It was for you I turned my life around. I had nothing until you gave me something. Now you are not mine I have nothing once more. I was never enough for you. I was never perfect. I was never anywhere near. But I had you. She took you from me. She, who I used to love, stole you. I loved you more. You were always hers and I never was. But you were mine as well. I don’t know how I’ll live without you. Maybe I won’t. Maybe I can’t. It kills me to know I may never see you again. It hurts worse than she ever could have imagined. I understand why but can’t comprehend how. How could the universe give me something so special then rip it from my grasp? I love you more than I hate her – that is why I write this letter. Because, I need you to know. Because, I don’t know if I can survive long enough to tell you myself. I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed. I’m sorry I couldn’t be your father.", "Riley,\n\nIt's not that I hate her. It's just that there is poison ivy wrapping itself in between my ribs where fields of daisies were once planted by the cry that rang through the sorry excuse of a hospital room your mother and I shared, where a thin curtain somehow qualified as a door. It's not that I hate her. It's just that I now drink glasses of my salty tears instead of that wine I didn't like but your mother loves, and I take shots of pure anger in place of the tequila that'd stay on my lips longer than the swelling from your mom's strings of kisses, which I never complain about. It's not that I hate her. It's that I scatter toys about my apartment, because it tricks my mind, even for just a minute, to believe that you're still here, in my last moments. It's not that I hate her. It's just that your mother ripped you from my grasp, without even once considering how it'd affect me, leaving burning, empty palms in her wake, though they're nothing unfamiliar. It's just that they burn a little brighter now, and the skin's just that much more fragile. Your cool skin and blue t-shirt would soothe like nothing else, son. It's not that I hate her, little man. It's not that I hate her at all. \n\nIt's that I love you. " ]	2
You know the drill.	[FF] Sci-fi and fantasy fortune cookies!	[ "I've got a couple that have helped on some of my adventures.\n\n\"Never make a deal with a dragon.\"\n\n\"Blood magic looks really cool. Until a palladian chops your head off for being a heretic.\"\n\n\"Demons make questionable allies, but fantastic lovers.\"\n\nAnd lastly. \"Never get on a boat, especially if the DM wants you all on said boat.\" " ]	1
	[WP] You are an indigenous tribesman. You have never left the forest or come into contact with any advanced society. You climb a mountain, searching for glory, and you come across a modern city, the likes of which you have never seem before. Describe the city from your perspective	[ "A million stars that have fallen to the plains lay before my eyes. Everything which I have heard of now speaks its truth in this very moment. The light of the gods, dancing over the hills, arranging themselves as trees with the height of mountains. The sky above, a mixture of night and day. The shadows of rigid birds that never stopped flying. The sounds of angry bulls that never stopped growling.\n\nEvery grounded star acted as one of the sun's children, trying to light the sky but still falling short of mother moon, whose face was full and round tonight. Some were moving. Others stayed still. Some were cold, glowing the color of winter ice. Others burned fiery anger. Still others were neutral in their demeanor, as if to suggest their wisdom in being even tempered.\n\nTo both sides, smaller stars decorated shorter trees. It was as if they were the witchdoctors of the star tribe, preferring solitude to the loud campfire the other stars gathered around. Their message was unclear though. For what reason would they travel from the sky, only to sit so far from their neighbors?\n\nThe smoke of a million fires surly found its way to my senses, as my father told me would happen. I coughed, and my chest ached for the earth. These were not dutiful gods who cared for the earth, they were shameful gods who seek to live the lives of their human offspring.", "Chief had always told me that this forest was our home; the forest is our mother, cradling us from the time that we are born, and welcoming us to it's roots when we pass. The people within it, for generation after generation, chief after chief, have been the same. We, the Abenago, have always been the protectors of this forests. \n\nYet, I yearned for more, I desired to explore. When Chief was younger, he had explored to the East and saw steep Mountains. He had headed North and saw more steep mountains. The same with the South and the West. He learned that the Abenago were surrounded by the Mountains. I dared to cross them.\n\nI, along side my friend, Raka, set out for a pass that chief had spotted to the West, a three days trek through the forest that was the cradle of my people. We reached the pass, and saw that the spring showers had caused rocks, nay boulders, to block our path. Raka and I dared to cross through the Mountain that our people called the Devil's Horn. We trudged through the snow of the mountain, nagged by the whipping wind. It was clear that we were no longer in our forest.\n\nWe reached the peak of Devil's Horn at dusk on the third day. As I looked back upon our home, our valley, Raka let out a gasp.\n\nI turned and saw the land before me. The whole land was set ablaze with fire. There were clumps of massive fires and strings of fires weaving through the landscape. It seemed like the Devil had clawed this land with its claws. Raka was intent on turning right away, yet, I was curious. I told him that we must see if the people are okay. That night, we slept by the glowing flames of the people below us.\n\nWe awoke to see something quite different. The once engulfed landscape had not one fire still blazing. This comforted Raka and we pushed forward.\n\nAs we neared the land, I was shocked. There were tall square trees with no limbs, much taller than any I had seen before. The trees were grey at some parts, and shined bright at other parts. We neared a path close to the Mountains laid by the local tribes people. The path was hot, maybe I reckoned because of the flames last night. Yet nothing looked burned. There were even trees that I recognized that still stood tall, an odd sight for a charred land. \n\nAs we neared the grey trees, following the path laid by the local tribes people, I saw a beast hurtling down the path. In fear, Raka and I brandished our spears. In our luck, the beast did not see us, zooming past us with a terrible cry. Raka and I argreed that the path was too dangerous after seeing the monstrous beast. \n\nAfter following the trees, we reached an area filled with what looked like dwellings. I fearfully approached them, then I saw that the dwelling was guarded by the same beasts we saw on the path, in what looked like slumber. In their sleep, I could see the details of the beasts. They had no heads, yet their face was almost entirely a mouth. There eyes were nothing like I had seen before, or would like to see again. They seemed to have no life, yet I had heard its mighty roar. These were beasts. Had the local tribes people managed to control these reckless animals? I was struck with fear of the reasons why such an animal might have been domesticated. \n\nMy curiousity was expunged; Raka was shaken. We carefully trekked back over the pass and back into the bosom of our mother. \n\nEdit: Sorry for length." ]	2
Conquering aliens, a squadron of seagulls, the miniature mouse air force? It's up to you!	[WP] Battle of Britain, 1940. There's a lull in the action, the air eerily silent. Suddenly, the wail of sirens again rends the midnight air. Search lights trail fingers of light through the pitch black sky, desperately searching for the enemy. This time it isn't the Germans attacking.	[ "Jones was on duty, a cup of coffee resting on the table next to the radar screen. He liked tea better, but staying up that late, he had to get his fix from a stronger poison. His mouth was salivating, a lot, as he was already at his fifth cup. Eerie feeling, but duty is duty. God save the King and whatnot. Better us than them. Keep calm and carry on, all that bravado. He'd much rather have slept in his cozy bed, and would have preferred even more to sleep in the big double bed with his wife, surmounting the crack between the beds and maybe getting some latenight action. What a bird, that girl! He was a lucky man. \n\nThe Radar started bleeping. It took him out of daydreaming immediately. Awh bollocks, now he had to sound the alarm. Or? \n\n\"Looks like the Jerries are up to something again.\", mumbled Jones, took another sip of his coffee, but spat it out as he double-checked the radar. The small blots had just moved faster than any german plane he'd ever seen on the radar. Hastily he did the math in his head. The objects were moving at 600 miles per hour! He had heard of German \"Wunderwaffen\" but he never really believed in them. He sounded the alarm, but the things had already gotten into the ultimate vicinity of his radar post and now some of them seemed to have stopped... What kind of german aircraft did that?\n\nHe heard a distinct, silent humming from outside mixed with the BRAAP BRAAP BRAAP of the alarm. Curiosity got the best of him. Looking out of the window into the foggy night got him nothing, just some kind of red light shining from above. He could feel a chill creeping up in his bones, his spine tingling.\n\nHe grabbed his coffee, stepped out of the door and looked timidly up into the sky. The coffee mug shattered on the ground as his hands had shiveringly dropped it, spilling its contents. \n\nUp above him, clear as the sun, was a triangular shape with white lights on the edges, and a red light at the center.\n\nThe light detached from the base and silently humming moved into his direction.", "Birds, giant birds! But why are they attacking us and where have they come from? They weren't Nazis, that's for sure and no mistake.\n\n\"It's because we started the nuclear weapons, John\".\n\nThat was my wife Clarissa. She was a know-it-all, but also a sexy piece of woman and I loved her. We had no children because I couldn't get it up without my homemade contraption, which turned her right off. How ironic.\n\n\"What should we do about the birds, Clarissa?\"\n\n\"The same we do with any other birds in our garden\", she replied, reaching for the birdseed in the cutlery drawer, \"We go feed them\".\n\nI followed her out the front door, out onto the moonlight street. There was a general murmur from all around as our neighbours were leaving their homes too. Everyone had had the same idea as Clarissa and held up the bird seed in their hands to the skies. What else could we do?\n\n\"Seed\", we all cried in unison, \"SEED!\".", "The radar operator refused to believe what he saw. It had looked like a standard pattern by the German with their stale 'Blitzkrieg' tactics. It wouldn't work, they would get repelled as he would just raise an alarm.\n\nHis display showed something much different.\n\nThe blips grew and grew as reports from other stations reported entire masses of aircraft coming from the west and southwest. He feared the worst and hit the alarm.\n\n*\n\nAircraftman Phelps was awoken and rushed into his Hurricane to fight an extraordinarily large German force. He relished the fight. He strapped himself in and started his aircraft. It sputtered and kicked and finally roared.\n\nHe felt so confident in this plane that had downed a few planes but he still grimaced.\n\nHe taxied out of his hidden hanger and took off joining his wing. His wing joined the squadron and pushed to meet the enemy. They were almost in range. The dark clouds parted and moonlight showed the enemy force.\n\nHe got closer and closer. He could see their decals with distinguishing details. He let go of the trigger and felt very confused. His deeper doubts evolving into paranoia.\n\nAnd then they dived on his squad.\n\n\nIt was supposed to be a simple mission. Another strike to gain aerial supremacy over the British island. They did not expect to make contact with the British force of Hurricanes and Spitfires.\n\nHis mind was so focused on figuring out why they were intercepted so early. Suddenly his cockpit cracked and shattered. He snapped back into attention as he was being tailed. He could not believe his eyes. They were not suppose to be here.\n\nSadly, that was the last thought going through the German airman's mind. A soft but harsh ping and his aircraft was engulfed in a mad fire. The explosion finished him before the aircraft could spin into the British Channel. \n \n**\nGeneral Eisenhower told the operator to radio to their allies. He stepped out of the bridge and marveled at the fleet around him. The USS Arizona proudly bore a flag that was half the red, white, and blue flag of the United States and half of the rising sun from the Empire of Japan.\n\nOver a hundred Japanese and American vessels from parts of the Pacific fleet and the Atlantic fleet with several Japanese carriers. The massive battleship known as Yamato was only lagging slightly behind Arizona.\n\nYamamoto had responded, their invasion of Britain would go according to schedule. " ]	3
	[WP] The saying that is that we die twice, once by mortal wound and the second when somebody says our name for the last time. Between these two deaths exists heaven, filled with all the greatest people from history. After the second death is Hell. Write about your experience.	[ "It was all so beautiful, everything you could imagine and things you could never understand. I had seen it all and yet it was all so new to me, much like it had been on the first day. \n\n\nI never wanted it to end, everyone I had missed was here waiting for me all along and it all just seems so right. That's when I heard it, quiet at first but there was no mistaking it. \n\n\nThe words I had been never hoping to hear, but there they were clear as day. \n\n\n\"Has anyone seen Ben lately?\" And then I began to fall...", "Heaven is a sham, a facade, promised to all as the land of the righteous, the forgiven. Yet what fills it are the cesspools of humanity, the greatest evils to ever walk the Earth. Those who carry the names of gods are in fact the most atrocious beings who have ever lived. Their original life existing far beyond the bounds of written history, passed on in fear by word of mouth and even now, they abuse their power, warping thoughts and infecting minds of the living to feed their pathetic ego. \n\nThe good are so few, and so often forgotten, their cries as they fall, tearing into the deepest parts of my soul. Too many times have i watched this, seen what lies below, seen where i, where all of us, will lie for eternity. \nSo I ran. I ran from fate, from destiny, from the curse all of us are under. I ran to the mortal world. With what little power i had left i tried to grasp onto this realm, binding myself to those i aid, hoping that they would protect me from doom. But it was to no avail. I can hear it now, calling me, mocking me. It knows I'm scared, terrified. And it knows where I am.\n\nI must run.\n\nI must run.\n\n", "....\n....\n....\n....\n\nHuh... mhhh. dead... dead..... I suppose I'm ~blip~, just like that, gone with the wind.... dead. Strange, I haven't a clue where I am but something compels me to believe this place is the after life. Is it possible I've been buried alive? I don't feel alive. There's a certain supernatural aura of this place, and considering I don't believe in Supernatural auras, something is informing me. And I suppose that's God. Strange that I'd know these things. I suddenly witness a scene that appears to have taken place for years yet no time at all.\n\n\"And eyes, surely this mortal has misused you\", beckons God\n\n\"Yes, Lord God, he most certainly has. He had used us in a variety of manners, but we can attest he had used us ignobly more often than was acceptable.\" responded my eyes\n\n\"Very well.\" remarks God, \"Funny thing is, despite all his sin and being a heathen, he still doesn't seem to have racked up enough hell-points for me to send him off down under....\" God pauses confused, \"maybe the calculator's broken - nope, all's in order.\", God continues \"Just a single good deed over. I suppose he has rightly gained entry beneath my throne.\"\n\n~blip~\n\nHeaven. Indescribably sententious, inexplicably so. All of my favourite people, except it's not them, it's all of them as a multi-person which is a single person. All of my favourite food, except not in multiple dishes, but a red fruit that is all textures, flavours and substance. It's been 10, 000 years already, I can't believe it. It feels as though I'd arrived not but a second ago. \n\n~blip~\n\n... Where has the warmth gone? I no longer lay upon the pleasant meadows beneath the throne of God accompanied by my hurriyes and jewels. My mountains have sunk beneath the earth. No more heaven fruit. Worst of all, most excruciating of all, this great pain. My flesh is no longer ethereal. This great pain that does not scorch or freeze or; indescribable pain....", "Five years have passed, and I've been living it up. Parties with Honest Abe, poker with Freud; hell, I've even had shots with Teddy Roosevelt. It was great. That is, until Jesus Christ came to visit. He took me by the shoulders and led me to a small hole in the cloud floor. I stared at the empty area for a moment, and turned to look at him.\n\n\"Kneel, and look.\" Reluctantly, I done as told, kneeling and staring down into the black expanse of the hole. The darkness seemed to disperse and form into an image: A man I used to know, sitting in front of a computer, his mouse hovering over a Skype contact. The contact read: 'Kain Crow', my name... I thought he had deleted me when we were teenagers. We practically hated each other. \"I wonder what would've happened if we were different? If either of us were compassionate enough to say we're sorry, or to just forget about it?\" He chuckled to himself, a depressed tone ringing in the laughter. \"I wasn't able to make it to your funeral, and I'm really sorry about that. I don't know if you can hear me, wherever you may be, but I just wanted to say: I'm sorry Kain.\"\n\nI felt a pressure against my back, turning my neck just in time to see Jesus mouth the word sorry. He pushed, sending me into the hole, breaking the image into a thousand pieces only to be replaced by fiery spires. I shut my eyes as I descended, tears rolling down my face with a smile. \"I just wanted to hear that. For forty long years I waited to hear that. You're forgiven...\"", "The accident that took my life happened at 7 AM, while I was driving my children to school. I was a bit frazzled from the 4 short hours of sleep (yes, the hours themselves felt shorter) and my stomach was heavy with the worry that there might be something wrong with Nadia. I'd given birth to her three weeks ago, and she wasn't like my two little soldiers sitting in the backseat when they were young - screaming and begging and crawling everywhere. Rambunctious little turds practicing their art of yelling as if they were preparing for an audience in Carnegie hall some day.\n\nNadia was quiet. Mostly. Every three hours in the night she would scream a blood-curdling scream for exactly a minute. And sleep again. While I was carrying, I made sure to stay well nourished, and that's easier said than done these days, especially with the rationing. Jim's job with NORAD makes it easy for him to sneak us extras, but everyone had it rough - all the land worth farming was gammaed early on. We weren't hit with anything directly, but what if this whole fucking war, the evacuations, the shit food, the whooping cough just made it so Nadia came out wrong? Why at the end of all these evacuations from one camp to another were we living right fucking next to no-man's land? Driving past that inglorious memorial to the last 2 years every day to drop the kids off just made me curse everything even more. It made me remember the friends I’d lost, some across the border, more in the troubles that followed.\n\nFrigid with worry, I picked up my phone and texted my husband \"Check on Nadia, had an open-air incident this morning.\" Jim's new work schedule was unkind for recent parents. He was out of the house at 8 AM and back around midnight. At least he could take care of her while I ran the kids to the campus and ran back, which is all I needed for now. As I focused on hitting the send button, I sent myself and the car into the tree straight ahead.\n\nThank goodness for airbags and quick reflexes. I gently bumped into the tree before me and the trigger-happy bags greeted me with a good morning sucker punch. Nose bloodied and a little worse for the wear, but thoroughly awake. I stepped out of the car and saw my two little soldiers, Irina and Max sitting in the back, smiling as if they'd just finished riding on a fucking roller coaster. I took two or three steps back towards a large chestnut tree to catch my breath. On my (I think) third step, I heard a click. And then a boom. And then I showed up here.\n\nSo yeah, that's how I'm here, talking to you right now, your name was?\n\n\"H.G.\"\n\nAh, H.G. Nice to meet you.\n\n\"So, tell me more about this war?\"\n\nWait, no, I have to have some answers first - where am I?\n\n\"Ah, OK, it's only fair I suppose. You did tell me how you perished, and I'll say landmines are probably not the most dignified way I could imagine.\"\n\nLandmine! Of course, I drove the car right into no-man's land. I'll bet they'll build that fucking fence now. Stupid do-nothing city council shits.\n\n\"OK, so first, you said you were 'talking' to me. You actually aren't. You haven't moved your lips since you've come here. That's natural don't worry, but you should start doing it soon or it'll feel weird later.\"\n\nI try to move my lips a bit. A tingle comes over them like a hot pepper is being rubbed vigorously over them.\n\n\"Bulktrosph\"\n\n\"Good! Now, anyway - as far as we know, you're in heaven.\"\n\n\"Fuck\"\n\n\"Let's pretend that was your first word and not 'bulgogi' or whatever you said earlier. People will ask you that a lot here - your first word says a lot about you. Most people say some equivalent of 'fuck'. Wow is common too.\"\n\n\"First thing you should know is that some day your family shows up here, and once you do, you'll pass on.\"\n\n\"Pass on?\"\n\n\"Yeah, you'll pass on, onto the next life. We who have been stuck here have worked out a few things so far. Some of us have even gone and come back.\"\n\nH. G. took a moment to pound himself in the chest and cough. Though it seemed like a somewhat unnatural motion.\n\n\"It was the case that everyone here used to be some kind of famous. Back when I got here, there were maybe a few hundred thousand folks here. But you know, the story is best told by....\"\n\nAnd while he seemed to just trail off the sentence, a figure appeared next to H.G. from a mist of red triangles. He was naked except for a golden long loin cloth and some kind of tattoo on his left breast that looked like a hawk, but I could swear it said “NO”.\n\n\"My name is Iry-Hor\"\n\n\"Nice to meet you Iry-Hor\"\n\n\"My name is Iry-Hor, and I was not the first here. But I am...the oldest. When I came here, this place was filled with many whose names I did not know, whose languages I did not speak.\"\n\nIry-Hor spoke in stuttering, broken English, as far as I could tell. His features were not combined in a way I'd seen before (I'll be the first to admit I'm not very well travelled) - his face was dark, his nose wide, his cheekbones high, his very short hair curled and his long and lean limbs dangling from the core of his body like tassels on a gown.\n\n\"And soon, those around me began to fade. Friends, countrymen, my subjects whom I loved dearly. My wife stayed with me for many years, but she passed on much sooner than I would have liked. I longed for many years to see my family again. I saw more countrymen, but they were no longer my subjects, ruled by a different king. These same kings then came to join me soon after, and we all watched as the years passed and new countrymen came and left. We added more to our band and watched the years pass without fascination. And then one year we saw many of our countrymen. They brought with them tales of war and plunder. A new enemy who had laid waste to our temples and our lands and buried our might beneath the shifting sands and the mighty river. Soon we all passed on, onto the next life.\"\n\n\"What was it like?\"\n\n\"It was unity.\"\n\n\"Unity?\"\n\n\"Togetherness.\"\n\n“It sounds beautiful.”\n\nH. G. interrupted “It certainly does. Which is why I myself find it very confusing as to why the returners loathe going back.”\n\n“You do not understand the meaning of those terms young one.” Iry-Hor retorted.\n\n“So, hold on, when did you come back?”\n\n“A few years ago. She can give a better answer than I can.”\n\nAgain from a mist of red triangles a kindly looking woman appeared.\n\n“My name is Gertrude Bell!” she chirped, apparently quite excited to meet me, a suburban housewife-turned-failed-minesweeper. She had a “HELLO, my name is….” sticker on her left breast. It said “FUCK”.\n\n“Iry-Hor here was summoned back to this realm because we found out his name!”\n“We found out his name?”\n\n“Yes! There was a dig in his ancient kingdom. A tablet was unearthed, and we deciphered it and learned of his great deeds and more importantly, I would argue, his name. His name entering into a human mind again, pulled him out of the realm beyond and into this one once again.”\n\n“Ah, so once your name leaves living memory, you are passed on?”\n\n“Yes, we believe so. But you can be remembered and summoned back.”\n\n“Ah, so once everyone I know shows up here, we’ll all pass on? Into Unity?”\n\nH. G. did the coughing and hitting himself in the chest thing again.\n\n“Well, not quite. See, people haven’t been passing recently as much.”\n\n“Oh. Why?”\n\n“Well, turns out, it’s much easier to be ‘famous’ in the world now. You have something called Facebook? A written record of names? Regardless of how ordinary your life may be, there is a chance that your name is written and seen by hundreds of people across the world daily. I’m sure she can explain better.”\n\nAnother woman appeared from the ether in a burst of red triangles. Her left breast had a sticker on it that read “How interesting”.\n\n“Ada, nice to meet you”\n\n“Nice to meet you!” I tried chirping like Getrude had earlier, but I think it came out sounding insincere.\n\nAda looked at H. G., he mouthed the word ‘fuck’ and Ada looked at me again.\n\n“Your name has been harvested by robots. They traverse Facebook and take your name, and send e-mails to people you’ve never met as if they are you. They take your name and likeness and sell it, to be shown once or twice, and hence live on in human consciousness.”\nAda looked a bit crestfallen as she said all of this. The same tone I use when disciplining my little soldiers - the combination of scorn and disappointment seemed to permeate her words.", "The fire in the barrel was beginning to run low, for the final time. I no longer have the strength to collect more garbage to fuel the flames. My tattered sleeping bag provides little relief from the cold autumn air. Though, I'm fortunate to have the overpass to protect me from steady rain.\n\nAt least I'll die dry.\n\nIt has been weeks since I have been able to pan handle enough cash for food. I don't have the strength to travel to the more heavily populated areas of the city, and the cold is keeping people inside more.\n\nAt least I had lead a good life. I helped others as much as I could. I never intentionally hurt anyone, and I prayed nightly. That should be enough... enough to get into heaven.\n\nThe time is getting closer. I can feel it now, the fluid in my lungs is finally going to win. I close my eyes as my chest shutters trying to get one last breath.\n\nAaaah yes. I can finally feel the warmth of Heaven. The sound of... the sound of fires? The... the smell of brimstone?", "Short of Jesus Christ himself, they had to admit Hitler had run the best racket amongst them. That however did not stop a certain someone from bragging about it.\n\n “Son of God,” Jesus said again, for what had to be the millionth time. “I mean how fucking awesome was that?”\n\nGeorge Washington passes Genghis Khan a look. The Khan simply shrugs, places his cards on the table and waves them off.\n\nElvis rolls his eyes. “What a bunch of horseshit,” he says. “You didn’t know this is how it would turn out, faker.” He doesn’t bother looking at his cards. He pushes them in and slaps the halo off of John Wayne Gacy’s head.\n\n“Whatever, loser,” Jesus scoffs. “Once that Beaver, Babber kid or whatever gets here you are done bro.” He gives his cards the once over and flips them. “Three kings dirtbags,” he says. “Alright new guy, whatever the hell your name is, what you got?”\n\n“Good Morning,” the man says, counting his chips.\n\nGeorge, Elvis, Jesus, Gacy and the Khan all glance at one another. Gacy points a finger to his head, rolling it in a circular motion. Elvis looks none too pleased and slaps his halo off again.\n\n“Ah, yeah, same,” Jesus says. “But I was, you know, looking for your name.”\n\nLooking up the man turns over his cards, showing two aces. Including the two on board, he had four. “Good Morning.” He says, once more.\n\n“Son of a bitch!” Jesus says. “What the hell- Oh, Holy shit.” His jaw falls slack and he stands up from the table. “No, you gotta be kidding me, seriously?”\n\nGeorge, Elvis, Gacy and the Khan look back and forth between the two before the realization sets in. The reactions are mixed but they are all in agreement on one thing.\n\n“Man, seriously.” Jesus says. “Fuckin' hippies, dude.”\n\n\n\nedit: Accidentally a lot of words" ]	7
	[WP] Your deity has visited you and asks that you write their doctrine.	[ "Tap tap tap Harald's eyes ripped open, as he was suddenly torn from his sleep, his dreams of ancient battles now fading from his mind just they had faded from history. Tap tap tap. He stared into the blackness, wondering about what the sound could be. He could see nothing, it was simply a featureless black stretching even beyond the horizon, or so it seemed. He turned his face to the side, though it made little difference, and began groping in the shadow for a familiar shape. Finally, after very nearly knocking over a glass of water and a lamp, his hand seized upon the familiar shape. He picked up the rectangular object and pressed his hand upon the place where the smoothness was broken and a rise jutted out. He pressed his finger upon it, and squeezed his eyes shut as they were greeted by a flash of searing light. He opened and then shut his eyes several times, as they acclimated to the light. Finally, he could keep them focuses, though his vision was still blurry. On the screen of his phone, he saw the familiar symbol, three interlocked triangles surrounded by ancient markings.\n\n3:33. How well it matched the symbol above it, he thought, though his inner voice seemed to slur it as if drunk. He head hurt and he began trying desperately to recall why he was still awake at such a terrible hour as this. Perhaps it had something to do with his dreams? As he contemplated this, he was quickly brought back to reality. Tap tap tap. Ah yes, that was the cause. He realized the sound was coming from behind him. He turned and began ripping away the curtains that blocked his window, from which resonated the strange sound. His heart beat fast, but he was driven on by his burning curiosity, and, perhaps, a desire to face whatever was outside now so he could sleep. He reached a hand out and clenched his necklace from his bedside table. It was shaped like a hammer, with a short handle, made for the arts of war and destruction rather than smithing.\n\nTap tap tap. He finally got the curtain, black as the night outside the window, away. And now he pressed his hand against the clod pane of glass, and tried to make out any shape in the endless sea of shadow. Then he realized a piece of the darkness was closer and somehow more solid than all around it. And then it moved. He finally made out the shape of what he was looking at. A crow, no, larger than that, a raven. Black feathers surrounded a black beak, and its seemed to, somehow, shine and reflect the darkness itself. tap tap tap. It did not seem to fear him, on the contrary, it seemed annoyed. He tap back, quickly, matching the beat of his heart which was still racing, even as the mysterious visitor was proven to be nothing more than a bird. tap tap tap. He thought of returning to bed, but he was not sure he could with the raven playing its simple concert. Finally he unlatched the window, not sure if he intended to shoo the thing away, or invite it in. As the window opened he felt the unmistakable presence of a hand upon his shoulder.\n\nHe turned, his fright rising to even greater heights, and beheld a man, illuminated in the soft glow of a cell phone. He seemed to speak a word, words mouthing harsh and ancient syllables with a quick and practiced tongue, and the lamp flared to life in the dark, giving Harald a better look at the man.\n\nHe was wearing a tattered grey cloak, perhaps normal ten centuries ago, but rather odd in the modern world, and a broad brimmed hat. He had a long grey beard, and from beneath the hat one eye glowed with a kind of ageless wisdom, and a fierceness that would have been envied by the likes of Charlemagne, or Patton, or Alexander. One eye, the hat, the cloak...Harald opened his mouth to speak but no words came. Before him stood, Ygg, the Terrible One, the Lord of Aesir and Einherjar, Odin Allfather. He had set up a shrine to the aged wanderer near the woods which pressed in close to his house, he had written praise poetry speaking of the wisdom and the ferocity of the High One, had asked the Spear Shaker for aid in many a endeavor, and yet now, standing before the gaze of his one eye, which shined bright in the half light of the lamp, he could think of nothing. He was filled with a kind of nameless horror, and he knew why \"the Terrible One\" was among the names of the One Eyed God.\n\nHe stood there for what felt like a eternity. And then a raven alighted upon his shoulder...and spoke. \"High One, do you really intend to choose this one for your messenger to the Sons of Askr? You spoke of a clever tongue and a quick mind, and vise versa, and yet he stands here gormlessly, with his mouth hanging open.\"\n\nThe Father of Men seemed to smile at this. \"Come now Huginn, we cannot expect him to become used to meeting gods so quickly. Men are adaptable, variable, they have conquered even the harshest lands of the realm of Midgard, but they require time to acclimate properly. Let us give him his time, and then we may make request of his hospitality.\" Harald closed his mouth and then opened it again, but was unable to so much as squeak. Before him stood a being as old as the earth itself, who had slain the giant Ymir, and from his vast corpse fashioned the whole world. He was the one who had set the sun in the sky, who had taught men the ways of writing, and of war. He was a being of immense powers, at whose will wars could be won or lost in a instant. He was served by half the brave men who had lived well and died in battle, a number so incredible and uncountable that Harald's mind boggled at the thought of trying to picture it. He had a hall large enough to make such a host seem a trifling matter to house. He was knowledge and curiosity and victory and death and honor and treachery all bound together, the lord of binding and unbinding who brought both poet's inspiration and berserker's rage.\n\nFinally the words came to him. \"Hail and worship, he who is called the Wanderer, and Spear Shaker, and the God of the Gallows. Why do you come to me so late in the night? Is there anything I can do for you, what is mine is yours.\"\n\nAgain he lips of the ancient being which took the shape of a old man stretched into a grin. \"Some mead perhaps, the journey to Midgard is long, even upon Sleipnir. And then I have more to ask of you.\"\n\nHarald left the god in his room as he pulled a bottle of amber gold liquid from his fridge. His mind reeled, and he pondered what the god who had set the sun and the moon in the sky could possibly want with him. He climbed the stairs with a kind of reluctance, yet he did not considering turning and fleeing. Finally he was facing the Yule-Father once more, though he seemed to be amusing himself by looking at the Valknut pendant which Harald kept near his bed, along with his Mjolnir. The raven perched on his shoulder like the ominous shadow of death, and seemed to whisper into the ear of the One Eyed One, and was joined by another raven who roosted atop the bookshelf.\n\nHarald handed the bottle of mead to Odin, and Odin produced two horns, carved of bone and enamelled in gold. He poured the sweet heady honey into both and handed one to the bewildered mortal. Harald took it, but did not drink. \"Now then, Harald, my son and loyal friend, I have come to ask you a favor. You see, I have tried to give men my wisdom from afar, to shape history with a few twists of fate rather than by great acts of magic. And yet it seems this has done little for those who share the blood of Heimdall. As such, I have decided to give my wisdom whole and complete, through a representative on Manheim. A prophet, if you will. And I have selected you, for you have shown yourself to be wise, and honorable, and brave, and a man of great skill with words.\" Harald began to interject, but Odin raised a hand to silence him.\n\n\"This is no time for false modesty, I have watched you from my sacred throne Hlidskjalf, from which I can see the whole of the world. You are my choice, should you accept. I will warn you, these words I ask you to write, they shall lead to battle and bloodshed. The world is too stable, determined to avoid the folly of their ancestors and avoid war. This is a good thing, were it not for the fact this adds to the armies of Helheim. I need more sword dead. still, I promise that these revelations shall make the world a better for all when they are complete. A place of truth and of honor and of justice, where men regard each other as kin. I shall not allow Ragnarok to destroy all I, and all my children, have built. Least of all your kin, Son of Askr. Mankind will survive, persevere and preserve. So, what is your answer? Will you take on this task, this great burden which I place upon you that you might sacrifice for the good of your people?\"\n\n\"I...\"Harald now sipped at the mead, unwilling to give the answer he knew he must. Finally he swallowed the draught, which tasted both sweet and bitter upon his tongue. \"I shall give, as you have, Hanged God, One Eyed One, Oathbreaker.\" He briefly thought he had offended the god with the last name, but his smile grew fiercer still, a bloody grin of victory. \n\n\"Good. Then we may begin in the morrow, I shall speak with you more frequently from now on, though perhaps less directly. A king is busy, you know...though I ought to have made time to deal with the matters of Earth more often. I shall depart now, but first a few gifts.\" the fatherly old figured who had brought death to more men than any who had ever lived, now reached in his cloak and produced two things. The first was a blade, in a finely adorned scabbard. Harald drew it and felt its supreme balance, and saw runes carved upon its length, some of which he knew well, and others which seemed alien to him. The second was a box, which held with a simple gold ring. He recognized it as Draupnir, which multiplied when left in a box, one became nine in as many nights. Odin then took the horn from his hand, and quaffed it. Then he presented it back to Harald. Cont", "\"Hey, get up\"\n\nIs not what Joe wanted to wake up to in the middle of the night, especially not since he lived alone. His eyes darted around the dark room, lit only by the dull glow of his alarm clock. Am I being robbed? he thought to himself, I need to get a weapon. \n\n\"that won't be necessary, no weapon you could find would harm me anyways.\"\n\nJoe couldn't quite tell which direction the voice was coming from, and had the unsettling feeling it was coming from inside his own head. uhh.... God? Joe hesitantly asked to the emptiness which was his room.\n\n\"HAHA.. you could say that. Elohim, Odin, Jehovah, Loyd, Buddha, Mohammed, Jesus; call me what you'd like I've many names.\"\n\nbut... but I.. uh\n\n\"take a minute to soak it in.\"\n\nJoe's mind was racing, My God, he thought, then immediately regretted taking God's name in vain, in front of God.\n\n\"If you are quite ready I have something to ask of you.\"\n\nJoe looked up, still not used to talking to someone who was not there, what could I possibly do for you?\n\n\"You will be writing my doctrine, my laws. I've written many books myself for your world, and tried every trick I could think of to get you humans to behave. I promised you heaven, ultimate paradise, and you were defiant. I threatened you with eternal damnation of hell, you were obstinate. This will be the final book, if it is unsuccessful then I will leave your world to its own devices, your pleas will fall on empty ears.\"\n\nIf he had not already been sitting on his bed, Joe would have surely fallen over, the fate of the entire world was in his hands, where would he start, what would he write, how could he do any better than the efforts of the great creator himself? What would you have me write? he called out, almost begging for an answer.\n\n\"...\"\n\nJoe sat as the silence grew deafening, beating his eardrums numb. What would you have me write! he tried calling out again, but only a croak made it out of his ever tightening throat.\n\n\"...\"\n\n\n", "A jarring CLAP shook him from his early-afternoon daydream. The noise came from the sound of the toaster's springs launching a crispy, golden-brown bagel into the air. It was a sound that he hated: he always loved the bagel the toaster produced, but he cursed under his breath nearly every time the contraption ejected the food with a sound not entirely unlike that of a car crash. He was so startled that as he rose from his small, wooden table in the corner of the kitchen, he couldn't recall the daydream that was occupying his uneventful afternoon. He often gazed outside as he daydreamed, thinking about things he would like to do but is getting too old to do, books he'd like to write but is getting too tired to write. He makes his way to the toaster and the delicious bagel, realizing that he needs a plate and knife, and he turns to the shelf to retrieve them. He thinks about sitting outside on the porch, but he knows that the weather is far too warm, the mosquitoes too thirsty, and his love for air conditioning too great. He puts the knife on the edge of the blue ceramic plate, and opens the cabinet. Should I have peanut butter with my bagel? he thought. Am I getting too old for peanut butter? He laughs to himself, one can never be too old for peanut butter, he said to himself in a whisper. He reached for the bagel but was interrupted by a knock at the door. Had a person just knocked on my door? It had just happened and yet he was suddenly doubting that he had actually heard it. He left the bagel in the toaster; he moved toward the door. He opened the door, and a man with a clever smile and combed back blonde hair was standing on the porch. The man was dressed business-casual, had a small amount of perspiration on his tanned and yet handsomely wrinkled forehead, and carried a coat upon his left shoulder. His sleeves were rolled up, and he said with a smile, \"Hello, Mr. - \", but he was interrupted by the man standing in the doorway, \"You're the actor from that television show, what's it called?, the uh, ah!, it's on the tip of my tongue, ahh!, it's called the M -\", \"The Mentalist?\" said the man with the clever smile, his left eyebrow raised playfully, \"I get that a lot, but that's not me, I'm afraid. I-I didn't come here by chance, I know that you used to be a writer, and I was hoping to pitch a story for you to write.\" His clever smile was gone, an intense stare was replaced. The man standing in the doorway scratched his head of messy, grey curls. \"Here, come inside, I'll hear what you have to say\" he laughed quietly to himself as turned to go inside, \"and I'm flattered that you'd choose me as your writer\" he stopped and looked back into the man's intense stare, \"but I haven't written anything in years, and I'm stumped as to why you'd choose me. . . \" The man's intense stare collapsed into a warm smile, \"We'll talk about that, but let's step inside, it's unbearable out here.\"\n\n...\n\nThe man with curly grey hair was chewing on the inside of cheek, he was trying not to smile. \"So you're telling me you're a god?\" The two men were sitting at the small, wooden table in the corner of the kitchen. The bagel was still sitting in the toaster, cold and yet tinged with black, the blue ceramic plate sitting on the counter, the knife on the edge of the plate. The two men each had a perspiring glass of water sitting in front of them, making circles of water on the old, wooden table. The last light of the afternoon sun was lighting up the grass and trees and the bugs, mere specks, and cast orange rays through the windows. The blonde man replied with a smirk, \"I am God, yes. This is when you test me; give me your best shot!\" The older man burst into laughter, \"You've got to be kidding me!\" he reached for his glass of water, sipping it, the water drops on the exterior of the glass falling onto his wrinkled shirt. He placed the drink back down on the table. He was smiling, curious, and playfully skeptical: \"We've been exchanging empty pleasantries for the past half-hour and you suddenly drop this on me? And now you want me to test you? Oh, I'll argue with a person about God, or at least I used to, but argue with God about God? How silly!\" The man who said he was God smiled, said with an air of hesitation, \"Ah, but I take that to mean you aren't convinced.\" His host responded quickly, \"Well, of course not! I shouldn't have to make my reasons clear. I would argue that not believing in god is quite easy, and not believing that a stranger claiming to be god is even astronomically easier than that! Ah, but I've already said too much, because if you were God you'd know all that I think, have thought, and will think and will say. My, oh, my! You must be quite bored with this conversation having already experienced it in all possible combinations.\" The blonde man laughed, his dimples forming, disappearing, reappearing, \"Mmm, yes, but I am a patient God, and I'm quite capable of casting a shadow, a human, with which to communicate with you. And I come to you for one reason: I would like you to write a book for me. I told you I'd pitch a story for you, and whether or not you believe I am God doesn't matter at all! All you need to do is write, and title it, and credit it in any which way that pleases you.\" The grey haired writer smiled, \"I can take the credit? God doesn't want credit for his next good book? Why, I'm surprised!\" his eyes suddenly lit up, he quickly got up from the table, \"ah, I was fixing myself a bagel before you arrived, hmm, should I prepare another or simply toast it again?\" he stood above the toaster that bothered him and began to mutter to himself \"I'll just toast it again, no need to waste a bagel.\" He pressed down on the lever, returned to his seat, his mouth was dry from the talking, he finished his glass, told himself to refill it when he got up for the bagel. The man across from him with his sleeves rolled up, and his handsome and dry forehead sat with his leg crossed upon the other, his hands folded in his lap, leaning backward into his chair, his clever smile and whimsical eyes looking out the window. \"So, where were we? Would you like to tell me your story? If I get around to publishing it I'll do it anonymously\" The writer released a silly smile at the corner of his mouth, laughed through his nose, and kept speaking \"I might give the author the name, ah, but I'll have to think for a while about that one . . .\" The man with curly grey hair and bright eyes stared into his empty glass as it sat on the old, wooden table. There was more water in the pool under the glass than there was inside of it; the light from the window cast beautiful shapes of light that sparkled and refracted in an area around the pool. He turned his eyes toward the window, enjoying the setting sun as it retreated behind the thick, darkening green trees. The two men brought their eyes to meet each other, and the man who sat back in his chair with his hands lying in his lap said, \"I think we ought to begin. I'm glad you've still got a good memory.\" The man with curly hair nodded, \"Mmm, I'll remember everything you say and more. You don't mind the 'more', do you?\" the silence prompted the writer to answer his own question, \"I see, you obviously don't mind if I take creative liberties, you wouldn't have me write it if otherwise.\" God's shadow nodded, he closed his intense eyes as he did so, and then opened them again. \"Here are my first words: - \" A jarring CLAP shook him from his early-afternoon daydream. The noise came from the sound of the toaster's springs launching a crispy, golden-brown bagel into the air. It was a sound that he hated: he always loved the bagel the toaster produced, but he cursed under his breath nearly every time the contraption ejected the food with a sound not entirely unlike that of a car crash. He was so startled that as he rose from his small, wooden table in the corner of the kitchen, he couldn't recall the daydream that was occupying his uneventful afternoon. He often gazed outside as he daydreamed, thinking about things he would like to do but is getting too old to do, books he'd like to write but is getting too tired to write.", "\"Hey Rosco\"\n\n\n\"Oh, hey man, how's it going?\n\n\n\"Same old shit, can't really complain. Listen, I gotta talk to you about something...\"\n\n\n\"Well that's ominous.\"\n\n\n\"Yeah, It's pretty weird. Apparently I need someone to write a religious whatchacallit for me.\"\n\n\n\"The fuck?\"\n\n\n\"Yeah, new legislation. Mandatory for all 'deities and diety-like religious figures'. Apparently that includes antagonists too.\"\n\n\n\"Ugh, you want me to do it.\"\n\n\n\"I didn't say that!\"\n\n\n\"But you were going to say it.\"\n\n\n\"I can neither confirm nor deny that statement.\"\n\n\n\"Yeah yeah. Listen: if you want some ridiculous religion crap written up, do it yourself, I've got stuff to do. You must have some wordsmiths down there. Hell, just get LaVey to write the official version.\"\n\n\n\"Well I can't write it myself, that's one of the conditions. Something about demonstrating you have enough believers to qualify as a religious figure. As for getting a guest to write it, that's completely unthinkable. We've got a very strict schedule we need to stick to and we can't give anybody time off for this bullshit. I'm not asking for anything earth-shattering. Shit, it doesn't even need to be that long-\"\n\n\n\"What do you mean, what kind of length are we talking here?\"\n\n\n\"All right, this is gonna blow your mind... Ten pages.\"\n\n\n\"Wow, that is retarded.\"\n\n\n\"Fucking bureaucrats, man. It's a waste of time and we all know it.\"\n\n\n\"Okay, you know what? I can see about setting aside some time for this, what do I need to know?\"\n\n\n\"Fuck, I dunno. Be a dick and you get tortured? I don't even know man, you'd think the source material would be enough.\"\n\n\n\"Well to be fair they did embellish a lot.\"\n\n\n\"That's true I guess.\"\n\n\n\"Wait, do they need a new version too?\"\n\n\n\"Yeah, but they've already got a bajillion zealots lined up to write it.\"\n\n\n\"I'll bet. Okay, well I can start out by correcting some of the exaggerations and factual liberties. Even if we don't set the record completely straight, I can sow a bit of chaos and confusion by differing from the source material and really that's what it's all about.\"\n\n\n\"That's why you're my bro, bro. Bump it.\"\n\n\n\"Bgow.\"", "\"Nah,\" I told her. \"Not doing it. It's your homework.\" \n\n\"But you're the Chosen One!\" she pressed.\n\n\"I really wish you'd stop calling me that. It was flattering, and now it's just creepy because I think you believe yourself.\"\n\n\"Why don't you believe me?\" she implored. \"Have I not shown you spectacles beyond even the wonders of your Las Vegas?\"\n\n\"You do some pretty cool tricks,\" I allowed. \"Since you're in front of me, I have to believe you exist. And I don't know how you turned wine back into grapes; that was duly impressive. But I can't really verify that you made me, let alone the universe. And the more impressive your spectacles, the more I question why you need my help with anything. Maybe... I don't know, just work on your own self-esteem? I know it can be pretty rough out there.\"\n\nShe bit her lip and looked like she was trying to be patient with me. I was trying hard to stay objective, but damn was she cute! \n\n\"People need to know that they shouldn't hurt each other!\" she told me.\n\n\"Yeah, but I think that's its own lesson. People hurt each other, they have to live in a world where people hurt each other.\"\n\n\"Then why are they still doing it?\"\n\n\"Why are you asking me? And why can't you just tell them yourself?\"\n\nWe were both silent for an uncomfortable moment. Then she spoke: \"Look, I can tell you're not really into this, so I'm going to leave you alone.\" And then she vanished.\n\nThere one second, gone the next. Tripped me the fuck out. The hardest part was knowing no one would believe me.\n\nShe never returned. I tried to call, tried to write, but I don't know where to find her. So, night after night, I make lists. Lists of what I think she'd want us to do with our lives. Most of them I crumple up and throw away. Occasionally, I write something that stands out and I think that's closer to divine than I usually get, and I highlight it and cut it out on a strip about the size of a cookie fortune. My cell walls are covered with those little things. \n\nI can't help but wonder what I missed out on. Night after night, I call to her. Always a different name. Night after night, all I can hear are my own echoes.", "The man's eyes fluttered open as some strange sound from the hallway reached his ears. A quick glance at the dresser revealed the time in neon green numbers, 4:30am. Not caring about whatever or whoever had made the noise that so rudely awoke him at this hellish hour, he turned over and closed his eyes.\n\nPlop Plop There it was again. What the fuck? Sighing in a mix of anger and exhaustion, the skinny man in his boxers got up and trudged over to his door. A warm, wet liquid seeped into his room from under the frame, soaking his carpet. Confused, and with a growing sense of apprehension, he flicked the light switch. Blinded, he staggered back a step, rubbing his eyes as they adjusted to the light. As things came into focus, he saw the liquid that had crept its way into his room from underneath the door was a deep red. \n\nSlowly, he stepped towards the door, edging around the growing puddle of whatever had been spilled in the hallway, and reached for the handle. \nHad he been a religious man, perhaps he would have said asked god to please not let it be something like a dead body, because he would probably never get back to sleep if that was the case. Instead he just turned the handle and opened the door.\n\nOutside, a long trail of the reddish slime tracked from the window opposite his room over into his office at the other end of the hallway. As he followed the trail, careful to step around the mess, he couldn't help but think he smelled marinara... strange.\n\nApproaching the office, he heard what sounded to him like frenzied slapping on a keyboard. Worried his custom gaming keyboard was being brutalized by some unknown assailant, a surge of adrenaline drove him forward through the open doorway into the unlit room.\n\nSlapping a hand to the light switch and grabbing the mop he knew to be leaning on the wall next to the door (spilled mountain dew, long story), he turned towards the computer and readied his weapon. What he saw stopped him cold. Floating before his computer, slamming tendrils of noodles down onto his custom gaming keyboard, dripping reddish sauce onto carpet below, was a giant floating spaghetti monster.\n\nAs if aware of his presence, the Monster turned to face him, and though the creature lacked eyes, he knew he was being appraised. Seconds seemed like hours as he stood there, naked but for his boxer briefs, as the creature he had not believed existed stared into his soul. \n\n\"Ah, word_jumbler, it is good that you have come to me. I need your assistance\" a heavy, slightly Italian accented voice spoke into his head. \"You see, i have decided to spread word of my existence and the principles by which all should live, but lack the required appendages to use your computer. You must sit, and transcribe my teachings into this document of words\".\n\nAwestruck, and slightly agitated that this creature seemed oblivious to the sauce it dripped down onto the desk, the man took his time responding. \"First, I'm going to need you to... hover... away from my keyboard, that thing cost me like 65$\", running a hand through his hair he took a tentative step forward, examining the computer screen. The monster had opened a word document somehow, but in attempting to type had only succeeded in mashing letters and numbers together in some unintelligible fashion. \"How is this possible? Where have you come from? Why did you come to my house?\" The questions were forming faster than he could even ask them, the impossibility of the situation was too much to handle.\n\n\"Be easy my child, I have come to teach, to spread word to my disciples. People must learn of spaghetti's superiority to baked Ziti. It will all be clear once you hear what i have to say.\" The floating dinner reached a long noodle arm out and placed it on the man's shoulder. At the touch, the man was filled with rapture and understanding.\n\n\"Yes, of course. It's all so clear now\" he said sliding out the desk's chair, an overwhelming purpose powering his actions, \"just tell me what to write, ill stay here for as long as it takes\". As he adjusted the chair, he felt his stomach rumble. Looking over at the impossible hovering thing to his side, he was struck with a very strange feeling that something was wrong. Oh well, it was time to do the spaghetti's bidding, all was well and soon everybody would understand...\n\n***\n\nThe man shot up in bed, a cold sweat covered his body. What had he just been dreaming about? The details evaded him, floating in the corners of his mind just out of reach. Fuck it he thought, as he laid back down. Looking over at his nightstand, he saw his unfinished spaghetti dinner. It had been sitting out for a while, but whatever, its probably still good. Finishing what was left on the plate, and taking a rip from the bong he kept on the other side of the nightstand, the man laid back down and closed his eyes. " ]	6
	[WP] A man is about to commit suicide. His rival shows up and talks him out of it, only to kill him afterwards.	[ "Silence fills the humid air at the bar of the saloon where \"Quick-shot Ricky\" has his revolver at his temple. \"Stop right there!\" The creaking of the door breaks the tension in the room. \"Double gun Sal\" and his crew walk into the bar, the audience shocked at his arrival. \"Well look what we have here boys, a broken man turned coward. Ricky stares at Sal. \"Hey Sal, mind paying for my drink, I'll be leaving this place soon.\" Don't think your gonna be going out like that, if anyone's gonna take you out its gonna be me bastard!\" \"Duel me Ricky! If you want your little girl back.\" Ricky instantly got up and held Sal by the shirt. \"You saved her?\" Sal smiles. \"Yea but if you want her we have to duel and we can't do that if your dead now can we.\" Both the men walked outside and face each other 10 feet apart. \"You know its your own fault, you put your little gal and wife in danger and all.\" \"Shut up.\" cried Ricky as he unloaded all his shots at Sal. Sal easily dodged all the bullets. \"You fired six shots already.\" Before he knew it more shots were coming at him Sal continues to dodge but gets grazed. \"That's Quick-shot Ricky for ya ain't no man who can reload a gun fast as him.\" Sal began firing his double revolvers. \"Take this you bastard.\"\nThe Sun set as all folk gathered around Sal, Ricky's body on the floor in a pool of blood. \"You didn't really save my daughter did you?\"\n\"No. I did try though, maybe you'll see each other in the next world.\"\n\"Thank you.\" Ricky said his last words. \"pftt whatever bastard.\" A tear can be heard hitting the floor.", "He looked into the mirror one last time, starring at his scraggly skin, his greasy clump of hair, his soulless eyes. It was time. In the dim hallway, he dusted off an old photo of his wife. He smiled, reminiscing of the happy future they once dreamed of. But that was then, more than a decade ago. Their marriage sank year after year, and after the last straw, he took the kitchen knife and stabbed her in the chest. The evidence was never found, the case was dismissed, and he was left alone. Every night after, under the protection of the ebony skies, he roamed about the city, the same kitchen knife in hand, murdering women who resembled her. He'd made his decision then. There was no going back. \nThe man went downstairs, rope in one hand, stool in another. There, sitting in the only rugged sofa in his living room, sat Christian, an old friend of his. He lit up his cigar, and drew out a long puff of smoke.\n\n\"Don't do it, Michael. I've been your friend and companion for ten years, and I'd hate to see you go.\"\n\n\"You don't know what I've done,\" Michael cried. \"All these years...there was a reason I hid from the public. Now's the time.\"\n\n\"There's still a life ahead of you. People make mistakes with their life. If everyone killed themselves when they made a mistake, do you think we'd still have a human population? No. We are people. There is no doubt that we are stupid, selfish, and greedy. But those humane traits make us who we are, whether we like it or not. What I'm saying is, Michael, forget about the past, and look towards the future.\"\n\nTears fell through Michael's eyes. He set the rope and stool down beside him, and strolled through the kitchen, relieved that someone was always at his side. Michael turned towards his buddy.\n\n\"What do you say we go outside an-\"\n\nHe saw the gun, the barrel facing straight at him. \n\n\"I was almost convinced,\" he croaked, his face ruined with sweat and tears. \"For the first time again, I thought I had a future. That if I followed your words, I could have done something right for the first time in my life. \"\n\n\"I am a man of justice. Those who seek violence will not be tolerated.\" Christian stated.\n\n\"Were you ever my friend?\"\n\n\"I could have been, Michael.\" And he pulled the trigger.\n\nHe looked down at the dead body of his friend for ten years. He remembered that day, a decade ago, when he found Michael with his wife's corpse. The corpse of the woman he loved. \n\"Yes,\" he murmured. \"I am a man of justice.\" \nHe took another drag of his cigar, and calmly walked out the door. ", "She had to be quick. Her husband was in the bedroom. But, once it was in her veins, her husband could do nothing to stop her from dying. There was no hospital for at least a hundred miles. \n\nShe marvelled in ambivalence at her malevolent savior cooking in the spoon. It was much more than normal this time. She drew the golden-shit-colored mix up into her syringe. As she wrapped the tie around her arm she heard footsteps. It was her husband.\n\n\"Samantha! What the fuck is taking you so long?\" he growled through the door. His voice was like nails on a chalkboard.\n\n\"By the time you break this door down, it will be too late, ass hole!\" \n\nHe left. She worked on trying to find a vein. This was always so difficult for her. As she was doing so, she heard stomping coming back towards the door and, all of the sudden, a gigantic blow to the door. She had found a vein, but she was trembling too much to hit it. Another crack was heard. The door was breaking down. \n\n\"Don't do it. I just want to talk.\"\n\nShe knew this was a lie. If he just wanted to talk, why would he be breaking the door down? Another crack. The needle pierced skin, but missed the vein. She cringed and cursed.\n\n\"Don't you fucking do it!\" he yelled viciously.\n\nShe dropped the needle. It was too late to escape. The door was almost completely demolished. It broke down completely and in that moment he let loose another swing of his axe, which made contact with her throat. He picked up the needle, located his jugular vein, and shot the lethal dose. Suicide was better than prison or guilt.", "Bishop Patrick sat on his wooden throne, looking out at his kingdom of lies. He had been leading the Church of the Sacred Arrow for twelve years. Men would come to him, with stories of death and betrayal. He would listen to them, keeping their silence, feeling their guilt. \n\nHe had never spoken a word of his Holy Gift. Many of the robe had them, men of clothe with nothing more to offer than prayers for the damned and damnation for the praying. \n\nBishop Patrick could feel each knot of their emotions. With nimble fingers he could untie it and let the people go, no longer heavy and wrecked, but free to follow the Good Lord with a renewed heart. \n\nBut Patrick was left with the nasty film around his tub. The ring of filth that would never be scrubbed clean. For the final time, he gazed out at his empty church and prayed. \n\nSalvation came in a small voice asking him to put down the gun. \n\nLooking up, Patrick came face to face with Jolynn Prior. The girl's face was wet, her lips parted in a soft cry. \"Don't do that.\" \n\n\"You...\" Bishop Patrick said, surprised. He had sent the girl away years ago, her sins far too heavy for him to free. He could not take on the guilt and fear she had within her. Even though she begged him to take her guilt and shame, he refused. \n\nBishop Patrick was not a healthy man. At 86 he was one foot in the grave. But he knew what Jolynn would ask of him and he could not do it. He could not take from her the overwhelming depression that ruled her life. \n\nAt 27, Jolynn would never have a happy life. \n\n\"Take it, please, Father,\" Jolynn demanded. \n\n\"I won't.\" Jolynn had been his greatest weakness. He had never turned a child of the Lord away and he had hoped, one day, for the strength to help people like her. But the secrets had weight and he was drowning in them. Each string he snipped, each depressing, horrible, oily thought he internalized ate away at him. \n\nHe stayed up each night afraid another person would come, asking for his gift to become a curse. And it was a Curse, one he loathed, but loved. He felt touched by God, heckled by the Devil, sworn into some secret society that only the strong belong in. But Patrick was not strong, not the kind of strong people needed. \n\nJolynn knew the truth, he was weak, he was tired, and he just wanted to return to his lord. When the doctor's told him he was not long for this world, Patrick had been overjoyed. But his death would be grim, starving as his body failed around him. Six months to a year had sounded like an eternity in hell. Patrick was not strong enough, not since he cut the strings at 23 and started to hold the guilt of his congregation. \n\nFather Fitzgerald would have been better suited for the Gift of Empathy. He was a man without emotion. He had seen two World Wars and still remained strong. His gift was that of Forgiveness. He made people forgive themselves, forgive others, put away the sharp words and listen. He never worried about waking up with the memories of those who had come to him. \n\nRape. Divorce. Abuse.\n\nPatrick hadn't understood exactly what the Gift had called for when he first heard the voice of God and was told, \"I give you the gift of Empathy.\" Truly, it was the gift of dwelling, of never being able to sleep without the flashes of others trotting through his head. He saw wars, the bodies of his compatriots strewn across a brown stage, bombs bursting. And he had never fought in the war. He had a bad back, not good for anyone. Why waste the money on one who would never be able to lift more than 23 pounds. \n\nYet, Patrick knew more of hate and fear than anyone else in his life. And how would they? Patrick took it all on, letting them live free lives. But Jolynn was asking for something he could not handle. Medication would not save her, would not make it go away. She walked a wavering line of self hatred and fear. \n\nShe was Patrick's nightmare. A depression so great it would swallow him whole. \n\nClutching the wooden arm rests, he looked at her and shook his head. \"You were never supposed to come back.\" \n\n\"Well good thing I did,\" Jolynn said, stepping up and onto the platform. Fear made Patrick tense. He didn't want to see her cold, calculating face. She knew what he was going to do and he wanted no part of her cruel mind. No part of her devious hatred. Worse, the girl was beautiful enough that people could often look past her words and see only what they wanted. \n\nWhen she said, \"I want to die\" no one took her seriously. Beautiful people should never want to die, people said. He had heard it a thousand times. \n\nI took her because she was beautiful. \n\nHer life is so easy... \n\nJustification. Empty. But still, Jolynn suffered more for her doll face and long limbs. And how she suffered. \n\nShe was right beside him now. The hazy glow around her was clearer now. Usually the strings were few, but Jolynn had a thousand, so thick it was like a tornado. They flailed around her head and made her look a bit like Medusa. \n\nShe knelt beside Patrick and held out her hand. \"Please.\" \n\nShe did not try to justify what she was doing. He had heard her excuses before. Jolynn had come to him first when she was eleven and heard about his gift. She came again when she was thirteen, fifteen, seventeen, and finally when she lost her baby at twenty one. \n\nHow she lived with all this fear and loathing was a surprise to Patrick. He supposed hope kept her going. She had a lot of hope. \n\nPatrick had not seen such hope before. It was a small ball tangled in between the strings. It was barely glowing, but it was there. Lost. Weakening. He knew if he did not help her the strings would smother it out. \n\nHe had never seen the hope before, and he knew he would never see hope again. Touching her shoulders he began the same prayer he always said. \"Dear God, let me take the guilt and loss from this child to heal them. Please help me...\" \n\nThe strings seemed to still, before they seemed to melt down her face, out of her pores, towards his hands. It shook everything inside him, but Jolynn's little ball of hope grew brighter. He held on until the last of the red had faded from her skin and the sun atop her head was blazing out. He almost couldn't see. \n\nHe felt it slowly, inching up towards his heart. The fear, the loathing, the mistakes. Everything he had ever done was wrong. He was a failure. He didn't deserve to...\n\nJolynn reached across to his lap and picked up the gun. She had her hand wrapped in long, white gloves. She placed the gun to his temple and pullet the trigger. \n\nThe last thing Bishop Patrick remembered was her voice, whispering into his ear, \"It is time to leave this hell.\" \n\n", "Jameson trembled, seeing his reflection across the way before taking the final step that would end him. Looking at his reflection, his life of his once happy family forced its way to the forefront of his mind. He was overcome with anger and hatred; with guilt and sorrow. His body became overwhelmed with pain, impacting all areas of his body. He began to tremble, fearing his next step, yet at the same time welcoming it. \n\n“Stop” said a calm voice behind him. Jameson felt none could alter his path. Nonetheless despite the misery, he welcomed the voice. \n\n“Are you here to stop me? Are you here to tell me what worth my life has?” \n\n“No,” said the voice.\n\n“So you’re here to watch, to have a good show?” \n\n“No,” said the voice again. Jameson noticed the voice to grow colder. \nFinally, he turned around. \n\n“Then why are you…” He froze, finally noticing who it was. \n\n“I’m here to tell you, that your life is not yours to take.”\n\nJameson froze, unable to speak. \n\n“My old enemy,” said Jameson. “Are you here to witness an end to what I started?”\n\n“Justice demands more.” \n\nThis confused Jameson, yet for a moment he could briefly understand the individual's statement. He began to pace a little bit, but was unable to control the shake in his voice.\n\n“Justice: a word without written law. Tell me, is that why you’re here; to write another definition?”\n\nJameson noticed how his enemy was calm, and completely composed, while he was the complete opposite. \n\n“I am here to satisfy the demands of Justice. You betrayed your family, turned on your friends for monetary gain. There are many who have died because of you that cry for vengeance. I have been the only one to listen to their cries. Shall I let them go unanswered?”\n\nThe coldness of this statement pierced Jameson. He then began to consider if what this person said about his life were true. \n\n“Is this why it’s not my life to take? The ‘laws of justice’ demand it be theirs?”\n\nThe individual nodded. \n\n“Are you questioning then if I really do feel remorse for what I’ve done? For whom I have killed and whom I have let live to suffer?” asked Jameson. \n\n“No,” said the individual. “I already know how you feel. We both know you were never going to take that final step, because you knew, I’d find you.”\n\nJameson began to pace quickly around the room.\n\n“You were always a way out, where I could just pass off anybody to you! You gladly accepted everybody I killed, but you resented me!” \n\nJameson knew his questioning was futile, as he could only fathom one outcome of this situation. Nonetheless, he listened. \n\n“Your methods and desires contradicted their needs,” said the individual.\n\n“And why the hell does that matter to you?” \n\n“Because I hear them, I see them after death. And they cry for revenge; for justice. A wronged soul does not rest in peace, and I am their arbiter.”\n\nJameson knew the time was coming.\n\n“So, you are to kill me then? Isn’t that outside the bounds of your abilities?”\n\n“No,” said the individual. “Not when so many cry your name, in order to find peace.”\n\n“So this is beyond vengeance then?” Jameson began to become calm, slowly developing a comfort to the end resolution. \n\n“Yes it is. It is justice.”\n\nJameson slowly walked up to the individual, and starred at him closely. He began to shake uncontrollably as he moved closer.\n\n“Then, satisfy it!”\n\nThe Angel of Death gently touched Jameson, killing him instantly. He left the body there, knowing the cries were finally silent. The only cry he could hear now, was Jameson's. \n", "Daniel placed the rope around his neck.\n\nDon't do it! a voice said. It was the man he hated most.\n\nHe thought, and before he could change his mind, he lost his footing off of his chair.\n\nAll that remained in the small white room was a dead man, silence, and a mirror.\n\nOutside, cars barreled down the high way." ]	6
Basically physical time travel isn't possible, but conscience travel is. What that means is that you can being your conscience into a different world line, where there are differences from the original world to the new one.	[WP] Physical Time Travel isn't possible, but conscience time travel is possible, meaning that there are different world lines with different possibilities	[ "\"Shit, he just jumped again.\"\n\nI opened my eyes. I was in a stark white room, the ceiling completely comprised of fluorescent rows of lights. I sat handcuffed to a table, Across from me sat a towering, dark-haired man and a petite, brunette woman in matching black suits and jet-black sunglasses. Behind them in the wall was the only door out of this room and a single mirror. I've seen rooms like this all the time in movies, but never expected to be in one.\n\nWait a minute, why was I here, exactly? Last thing I remember, I was falling asleep in my alternate universe mansion in Bermuda. After discovering my power to jump between alternate timelines, i searched for years, until i finally found the perfect one - where I was a millionaire, with not a care in the world.\n\n\"Casey Sullivan.\" The man across from me said my name. His voice was low, guttural and thunderous. Not at all friendly. Time to get out of here. I don't know what the other me was up to in this timeline, or how I ended up here, but I was ready to leave. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and...\n\nNothing.\n\n\"Casey Sullivan,\" the man repeated. I couldn't jump, for some reason. I would have to play along for now.\n\n\"Yes, that is my name,\" I replied. \"Quit playing games and tell me exactly what you want with me.\n\nThe man and woman quickly exchanged glances. The woman took of her sunglasses and folded her arms on the table, searching me intensely with her bright green eyes.\n\n\"Mr. Sullivan,\" she began, already much warmer than the man next to her, \"My name is Agent Jones. This is Agent Martin. We've got a few uncomfortable truths to tell you right about now.\"\n\nUncomfortable? What could be more uncomfortable than waking up to this? \"Go ahead, Agent Jones. I'm prepared to hear it.\"\n\nAgent Martin grumbled. \"Cut the act, Casey. We know about the timeline jumping. We know you're not...you. What we do want to know is where you were before you woke up here.\"\n\n\"Wait, you know?\" I was startled. Never before in any of the parallels had I found others who knew about the timeline jumping. \"Does that mean you know why I'm here, then? Jumps never happen unless I will them to happen.\"\n\nAgent Jones looked at me for a moment before replying, perhaps evaluating the truth of my words. \"Mr. Sullivan, what do you suppose happens to the consciousnesses you jump into? You retain your memories after each jump, don't you? You are still...'Casey Prime,' in a manner of speaking, correct?\"\n\n\"Well, yes, I am. But I had never really considered what happened to the others, before now. I had supposed perhaps I melded with them, or replaced them. When I left, they would continue on as normal.\"\n\n\"But where does that leave the body of 'Casey Prime,' then?\" asked Agent Jones. \"Is he a cold lifeless shell now, no consciousness to return to him?\"\n\n\"I hadn't considered that,\" I admitted. \"There's no way in hell I would return to the timeline that my original body was from.\"\n\nAgent Martin let out a half-snort, half-grunt. \"Cut the shit, Jones. Martin, I'll tell it to you straight. Whenever you jump into a different you, the consciousness of the body you jumped into becomes the consciousness in your previous body.\"\n\nIt took me a moment to wrap my head around that one. \"So... I effectively switch places with the other consciousness whenever I jump.\"\n\n\"Correct.\"\n\n\"But again, I didn't make this jump. And I've never inadvertently jumped before. What happened this time.\"\n\n\"In this universe,\" Agent Jones explained, \"our research into the timeline-shift phenomena has progressed extremely rapidly compared to many of the other parallels. We've come into some interesting research on the human mind and will.\n\n\"To put it simply, each 'you' across all of the multiverses shares traits, fundamental drives, a will and meaning. Each 'you' in every parallel is only a fraction of the whole. Beyond our dimensions as we understand them, there is an ultimate combination of the multiverses, where every parallel version of a person forms the one whole person. Strangely enough, a bit of that residue manifests in the parallels, as the timeline-jumping ability. But only one parallel version of a person can wield it - the version whose will is strongest.\"\n\n\"So I had this ability because I had the strongest will - the strongest drive to leave my own timeline.\" I believe I understood. But one thing didn't make sense. \"So why did I randomly jump here, if I'm in control?\"\n\nAgent Martin let out a deep throaty laugh, like a bear roar. \"You haven't figured it out? Our 'you' is in deep trouble. Deep, deep trouble. So much so, his will to leave and live burst yours out of the water. He jumped, and he isn't coming back.\"\n\n\"But what does that have to do with me?\" I grinned. I found my ace-in-the-hole. \"If you know all of this, you know I'm not the one you want.\"\n\n\"That's right,\" Agent Jones conceded, \"you're not.\" She stood up, gave me one last cold stare, and left the room.\n\n\"Does this mean I'm free to go, then?\" I asked Agent Martin.\n\n\"On the contrary,\" he chuckled. \"You're staying put.\" He stood up and dusted himself off, heading for the door. Right before he left, he turned around.\n\n\"Don't worry, we'll be back...\" he said, smiling. \"After all, we want our proper consciousness back. We'll need to strengthen your will.\"\n\n\"And just how do you intend to do that?\" I asked, panic and morbid curiosity setting over me.\n\n\"By giving you an even greater reason to jump than your other consciousness had.\" His smile grew larger, carnivorous.\n\nHe slammed the door, and I was alone.", "\"Of course I knew.\"\n\nNot long ago I had been testing the limits if my new found gift. Visualizing a myriad of worlds stretched thin at my finger tips, just waiting to be seen in full. At first, I couldn't comprehend the complexity of the new dimesions layed out before me. It was like being two years old again and the dictionary was just placed in front of me. Naturally, I couldn't understand any of it, but like any two year old, they grow and learn. So did I.\n\n\"This is the domain of the higher ones.\"\n\nI would dash between the minds of mortals in different realities, expieriencing their lives in full before moving onto the next. I leanred of things people couldn't even imagine. I wasn't restricted to Earth, oh no, I went everywhere.\n\n\"But I couldn't satisfy myself.\"\n\nHave you ever had the feeling of dread while doing something seemingly harmless? I suppose I felt it when I couldn't recall where I came from, losing my own reality you could say. Panic ensued, like suddenly realizing you've lost control of the vehicle you were driving. With desparation, you try any way to regain control before it's too late.\n\n\"But I found it.\"\n\nAs with traveling in the realm of infinite tangible possibilities, strange happenings occur. I even found myself when I didn't have this ability. Only, I sat idly by to watch what my life could have been. I was happy so see myself with a satble job and a household consisting of a loving spouce and a beautiful child. \n\n\"But I flew too far.\"\n\nAs you might expect, when I moved on I found myself again, but it was a shocking sight. Dying slowly under a bridge with passerbys not even batting an eye. I left faster than I arrived. Of all the sights and expieriences I had before, being reminded of what I used to be and just how fragile I was made me sick to my hypothetical stomach. Even the happy-household opened my eyes at how simple minded I was, and how how primitive I am still.\n\n\"It all dwindled away soon enough.\"\n\nI stopped myelf after that, spiraling into issues of self worth as well as my sanity. No matter how hard I searched, I couldn't find where I came from. Every other reality felt wrong, like never before. I didn't belong there. I soon felt this in all my inter-dimensional glory. It's not real to me anymore.\n\n\"I'm lost.\"\n\n\"Indeed you are.\" I said to myself, no wait... Myself said to me...\n\n\"Have I finally found myself?\"\n\n\"But it's wrong, I don't belong here.\"\n\nI'm lost in this smog of darkness, where, nothing is real." ]	2
	[WP] God has taken sides in a world war. Other divine beings intervene.	[ "\"This is unacceptable!\" The golden haired woman said, \"We cannot let him alter the course of mankind merely by his intervention.\" She was clearly frustrated.\n\n\"What do you expect us to do? Our Pantheon has remained silent for Aeons.\" A tall man, of fierce stance replied. \"The last days of champions declared that we would no longer intervene with the mingling of mankind. So it was declared since the Mayan Empire ascended to the skies.\"\n\nThe one with the face of a dog snarled, \"Then it is time to alter the course.\" Pounding his fist on the large shimmering glass that acted as table. Above it the planet they guarded. It was clear that someone was not keeping to the rules. Borealis bands crossed the surface like arrows, faster than anything mankind had build before.\n\n\"HE has built gateways for his own followers, we should close them.\" Her misty voice crossed to the others of the Pantheon. \"If we let this continue, mankind will never ascend correctly. This will strike the end of all other facets. Only the 'religious' will remain.\"\n\n\"Then it is decided. Release the champions once more. Each of us may bless a single human, to walk as demi-god. A pillar of strife against religion. Let the humans cast aside the blindness caused by religious faith.\"\n\n\nSo the war continued, the one god, claiming to be the only one, against all others. Humans had fought his war for him, now he had joined them in an attempt to be the only god.\n\nIt had worked.", "“We have sat silent for too long!” said the dark red bearded massive mountain of a man resting his hands upon the burnished wooden table. His precise movements certainly didn’t replicate the anger that was clearly present in his eyes. “We agreed to the accord over 2000 years ago and we have lived with it, much to man- kind’s detriment. We have watched our followers dwindle and sat silent as people who once worshiped us now relegate us to the world of mythology” he glared at the large blonde bearded man sitting across from him. The statuesque brunette to the right of him looked over at that same blonde man noting the terrible scars around his neck and said. “You said this would be better for them. That our meddling was going to slow there path to ascensions so we all agreed to follow your lead. Now look where we are.”\n She continued with her eyes boring into the man sitting next her. “His follower grew into world spanning religions and achieved near domination and we did nothing. Yet now as his grip on them to slip he just ignores the accords as though they do not exist and does what he wants.”\n\n Standing apart from them all was a large barrel chested man with piercing blue eyes radiating a profound air of confidence. He began walking toward the table and spoke with steel in his voice. “With the rise in critical thinking they are beginning to get closer to ascension. He is terrified that one of them will ascend and see him for what he is.” He stepped even closer placing his steepled fingers on the table and continued in earnest. “We did nothing as his followers killed ours and crushed the beliefs that would have led them closer to ascension sooner, but you stood at this very same table arguing that direct intervention could prove devastating.” With a tearing of the fabric of reality another man entered the conversation. He stepped into the reality they had created and while he looked like a younger clean shaven version of the red bearded man he was more heavily corded with muscle and seemed much fiercer which was hard to believe . He gave them no chance to react to his sudden entry stating “He has begun believing his own nonsense about heaven and hell and this war between him and the great Satan. I care nothing for the accord any more as it means nothing to him. He was never our equal and certainly none of his Angels are a match for me or anyone around this table. I am done sitting around we aren’t gods we are just beings from a higher plane that have reached ascension I will no longer tolerate his arrogance in playing with the humans.” He looked over to the blond man with sadness in his eyes saying “I know you tried but it failed and now we need to fix it”\n\nThe battle was going poorly colonel Blanchard sat in the back of his APC wondering how things had come to this. The world in general was in an uproar wars everywhere and Angels and archangels coming to the aid of which ever army God had ordained as his chosen. They had been pushed back all the way to Missouri with the fundamentalist armies still pressing north. The Canadians were helping but they had their own problems with zealots popping up everywhere. The god of the Jews Moslems and Christians had come out and said that all non-believers had to die. Years of progress wiped out in minutes with angles fanning the flames of war. The northern army was able to stop the southern army but there was no stopping an angle when they got involved. Whole armored divisions where smashed by someone claiming to the archangel Michael. For so many there was a discordance with what the Christian god was supposed to be. And was it really God or some other alien species trying to control man for some unknown purpose. \n\nThe clarion sounded three times in quick succession captain David Adams looked up at colonel Blanchard with skin as white as paper saying “ well Neil I think this is it, we knew it was risky trying to stop the southern army but if that is an archangel we are done”. Looking over to Dave he couldn’t help but hide the sadness in his voice “I know Dave I’m sorry its ending this way as well”.\n\nThe sky above the field in northern Missouri was ripped open and there in all his majesty was the archangel Michael. His resplendent wings and battle armor appearing as though something out of legend. He carried a huge one handed sword that many people had seen cut through tanks and fighter gets with ease. No weapon could touch him but they tried anyway. The smoke and chaff from exploding rounds and missiles splashed around him without even messing his hair. In a clear voice for all to hear he pronounced. “you have been judged and found wanting. There will be no quarter” He began his charge at the lead main battle tank. \nNothing Neil could do was going to change what was about to happen but he hoped that he could save as many men as possible. He ordered them to retreat knowing the words were to little to late. As the angel closed in on the tank there was a bright flash and another being stepped out in front of the tank. He was massive at least 8 feet tall and was a mass of muscle wearing armor that looked like it belonged in a northern European museum. He carried two swords and radiated and intense aura of raw power. Neil heard Dave say what he was thinking “who the hell is that?”\nIn an instant the big man’s foot snapped out kicking the archangel in the chest sending him sprawling onto the ground in a heap. In a voice that befit his stature the man stated simply. “The accord is ended I am vengeance I am wrath and I deliver justice.” He sneered at the shocked angel and Neil could see actual fear in the angels face. “You broke the accord, the manipulation is done. “ The angel reared up righteous anger upon his face and launched himself at the big man. The result was spectacular as he closed with the man it was as though the big man blurred and was in many places at once. He picked the angels armour apart and smashed the pommel of his blade down upon the wings of the angel breaking them instantly. He swept across the front of the angel and severed the hand holding his weapon and kicked the angel once more in the chest leaving him a broken pathetic creature moaning in pain at his feet. The being looked over to Neil and his northern army and stated clearly. “There are no gods there is only the ascended. The being you face is nothing more than ascended being who was left alone to long. Retribution is coming and you will be allowed to grow into what man was meant to be. The being claiming to be a god is about to have his eyes opened again. “\n" ]	2
	[WP]Write about a man who is useful and then isn't, through no fault of his own.	[ "Jake Thompson is a real handy man. He lives off the Main St. in the red brick house and it’s as stern as he is. For instance, Jake cuts his grass every Sunday, trims his hedges twice a year around April and October. If his wooden windows are begging for a paint job – he’ll paint em’ up. As with Jakes’ lawn he constantly works on the inside of his house whether he’s cleaning toilets or washing the dishes (Which is a great help to his wife after working long hours at the office) for his two girls whom of which love him very much. His daughter Lily is seven years old, and he reads her a chapter before bed from her favorite book The Wizard of Oz by L Frank Baum. He is his wife’s (Stephanie) perfect husband. \n\nJake owns his own construction business and with that comes his handiness and his know how. Last winter when business was slow Ms. Peterson’s heater blew – he helped her replace it with a brand new Corwell Boiler and Heating system. He worked feverishly to install it – because he knew if had waited the pipes would freeze and it would cost Ms. Peterson thousands of dollars to fix the rest of her house. Luckily there was a break in the below zero temperatures that February.\n\nJake bought a piece of property on the edge of town this past winter. His knew project was building a two family house. Of course, he was subbing work out, like the foundation, rough carpentry and electric work. He only had a plumbing license having both would be nice. \n\nThey had just finished pulling the brown forms off the 8 foot concert walls. Jake had begun grading the dirt in the basement preparing it for the flat work later on. He got a call. He thought it was going to be another business call, but it was the hospital informing him that his daughter and his wife were hit by a car at the intersection of Tulip and Main St. He left what he was doing and drove a fast as he could to the hospital, weaving in and out of cars. He was sweating. His stomach dropped like bricks. Nonetheless, he kept his composure.\n\nHe entered the emergency room in a quicken pace and he saw his wife talking to the doctor in green scrubs. He kissed his wife on the cheek and said, “Hi Honey, are you okay”\n\t\nShe replied, “Yes, and no.” \n\n\tHe said, “Thank God. How’s Melanie?” \n\nThe doctor cut in and said, “Where doing all the tests that we can to make sure she’s okay. As soon as the results come back she can go.” \n\n\t“Thanks.” \n\n\tHe turned to his wife and asked, “ Where is she now?”\n\n\t\t“Getting an MRI” \n\tStill sweating and visibly upset he asked, “What happened?” \n\n\tShe looked at him and said shaken, “One minute she was right next to me holding my hand and the next she was hit by a jalopy, and lying on the ground crying.” \n\nHe felt absolutely powerless. The guy who hit her was drunk and he blew a 1.8 when the cops showed up. Thankfully they took him away in cuffs. That wasn't enough for the man who hurt Jake Thompsons little girl. TO BE CONTINUED. \n", "Of what value is a man?\n\n \n\nThe Zeus World Space Elevator was, by any measure, the most ambitious and the most costly endeavor ever undertaken by mankind. It may also become the most valuable. From my vantage point, at an altitude of just over 40km, I can see the devastating effects of positive-feedback global warming. Average surface temperatures at the equator have reached 55°C, leaving huge swaths of the Amazon brown, dead, and uninhabitable. Most of the Pacific Ocean is now too hot and acidic to support carbon-sequestering plant life. With the massive plant die-off, incalculable quantities of carbon were released into the atmosphere all at once, and atmospheric oxygen concentrations have begun to drop.\n\n \n\nOur best estimates in 2060, gave us 1,000 years before oxygen became as scarce at sea level as it once had been at the top of Mt. Everest. Our best estimates were wrong. Just five years later, it became clear that the rate of oxygen depletion was increasing beyond exponentially. Revised calculations suggested that atmospheric oxygen would reach dangerous levels in less than 100 years. A worldwide state of panic ensued. Militant environmentalists were elected to every level of government. They outlawed money, focusing every government effort towards Survival-Related Activities (SRA). Refusal to participate in, or materially support an SRA in some way was met with force, and rightfully so; as a civilian, you are either aiding the cause, or literally wasting your breath.\n\n \n\nOf all my fellow human beings, it was the artists for whom I felt the worst. Of what value is a painting, if no one is alive to view it? There were other losses. Pets were outlawed on September 21st, 2068. Animals kept for food were seized, and in the ensuing decade and a half, we have all become vegetarian. Of all my favorite meals, it is the steak I miss the most. It is estimated that these restrictions will buy mankind another 3-5 years, but most people don't believe in estimates anymore.\n\n \n\nGiven my fear of heights, I should have been much more comfortable contributing towards an SRA like Deep Earth Carbon Sequestration (A.K.A. \"Genie Back in the Bottle\"), Enclosed Community Construction (A.K.A. \"Human Terrarium\"), or Synthetic Photosynthesis (A.K.A. \"Roboplants\"). Instead, my genius for electrical engineering was assigned to the Zeus (A.K.A \"Longshot\"), a space elevator that just might allow us to escape this increasingly inhabitable brown marble.\n\n \n\nThe purpose of a space elevator is to allow the efficient transport of large quantities of mass into orbit. In this case, the mass represents all the equipment needed to build a permanent space colony. This colony will be a safe haven from the tempers of our mother planet, and also act as a departure point for future interstellar travel. Construction of the elevator was completed in less than a decade. The colony is already 10% complete; it's amazing what can be achieved when money is no longer part of the equation. Having a no other option is also motivating.\n\n \n\nThis is my first trip up the cable, and just a few hours in to the weeklong trip, I realize my fear of heights will not be cured by exposure. Unfortunate. There are almost 2,000 of cars above me, and another will be following me up shortly: 50km between cars, 10,000km cable. We all crawl upward to deliver our load, and then the real work begins. When I said this project was the most costly in human history, I meant in human lives: we don't use money anymore. Space construction is not nearly as safe as it sounds, and it doesn’t sound very safe at all. I heard that there are provisions on the station for only 50% of the total crew: such is the \"turnover\" rate.\n\n \n\nThese thoughts are occupying my mind when the upward crawling suddenly stops. My stomach wants to leap out of my chest. As unnerving as moving slowly away from the Earth's surface was, stopping is much, much worse.\n\n \n\nThe radio crackles to life, \"Standby, car 17A42.\" I'm not going anywhere. The elevator car is a kite-shaped, aluminum structure. At its center is the crawler motor, which uses four large wheels in opposition to pinch and slowly roll up the carbon nanofiber cable. The cable is about 6 feet in diameter, and was manufactured in thousands of factories in 42 different countries. While it has the highest tensile strength of any known material, its shearing strength is very low. A sharp knife, and a little patience could easily sever the cable: knowing that makes me feel like I’m hanging from a spider’s web. All along the car’s outer beams hang large, cubic containers filled with whatever is needed to build the station. I don’t know what my car is hauling, I’m just along for the ride. The enclosed space I occupy is on one side of the motor, and measures about 15 x 8 meters. The view from up here is dizzying, I can see Earth’s horizon bending away in all directions.\n\nAfter an hour of waiting, another message, \"Revised calculations indicate your car is overloaded. It won't have enough fuel to complete the trip. Do you copy?\"\n\n \n\n\"I copy.\" I have a bad feeling about this.\n\n \n\n\"We're lucky we caught this early, 17A42, or we'd have lost the whole car. As it is, we just need you to manually jettison a few items and then redistribute the remaining cargo for balance. Once you are finished we can restart the car. Copy?\"\n\n \n\n\"Copy, ground.\" My fear is nearly debilitating from inside the car, and now I am being asked to climb out along the beams, and release several thousand kilos of whatever. But as always, they give me no choice. Take this action, or hang in space forever. My fear cannot stand in the way of an SRA.\n\n \n\nWhile I put on my suit, I play Tom Petty’s “Free Falling” to take my mind off things. I’ve got that morbid sensibility. With my helmet on and com in my ear, I open the access hatch leading to the roof of the car. Space quickly rushes into my quarters; or rather, my air is sucked out into space. No more oxygen, except the tank on my back. It will take an hour for the cabin to re-pressurize.\n\n \n\n“17A42, carefully make your way out arm B, and release container 16.” Standing on the top of the car, my heart is pounding in my ears. Its roof slopes towards the edge such that I would slide into the ether if I sat down. I work myself towards the edge of the car, and look down. I can’t even process the distance between the myself and the ocean. It might as well be a million miles away. There is no safety tether, and the rungs on arm B are laughably small. Sweat from my hands is pooling in the fingers of each glove.\n\n \n\n“Ground… This is not… good,” I say. The understatement feels poetic.\n\n \n\n“You can do this. Just take it slowly and carefully.” And I do. Each step is a master class in determination. I meditate, I curse, I laugh, and I cry. Presently, I reach container 16, and with an easy twist of the red handle, poof, the container is shrinking below me. The car rocks slightly upward, and I think I might be sick.\n\n \n\n“Very good. Only three more.” The next three containers require the same exertion as the first, but eventually, I drop them all. I try not to think about what will happen to them when they land. I redistribute the remaining containers, as instructed, and am moments away from climbing back into the cabin and having a good-old-fashioned emotional meltdown.\n\n \n\n“One more thing 17A42. We are still 180 kilos overweight. I’m sorry to say that the least valuable cargo of that weight is yourself and your suit. I know this is hard, but you are going to need to jump.”\n\n \n\nI let a long moment pass before saying, “Is this a joke?”\n\n \n\n“Negative.”\n\n\n\nAfter a long moment, a new voice comes over the com, \"John, I know this is a very unfortunate position to be in. However, let me describe the situation to you. Your car does not have enough fuel to reach the station at its current weight. If it gets stuck on the cable, it will take days to clear it. We would send up more fuel, but all of your remaining cargo is essential to the survival of multiple persons on the station, and must reach them within 8 hours of its scheduled time of arrival. We have to get that car moving, so I must insist that you jump as soon as possible.\"\n\n\n\n\"Oh, you insist?!\" I start to yell, but I'm immediately cutoff by a piercing tone.\n\n\n\n \"Additionally, while you were busy releasing the overweight containers, we remotely jettisoned your life support system, so you have whatever oxygen is remaining in your suit before you asphyxiate. You must see that the only choice left to you is whether your final act will doom the men and women above you, or save them. This decision was not personal, we did what had to be done, and now you must do the same.\" Through the hatch, I can see the empty space in the cabin where my oxygen scrubber, and fresh water supply used to be. He isn't bluffing.\n\n\n\nThe carousel of emotions in my mind is halted by a single thought: My fate is the same as mankind's, but smaller, and I have no choice.\n\n", "All eyes were upon David as he ambled up to the podium. He was a handsome man in his forties. His hair had started to recede in the front, but it was fitting of his age. He looked out at the crowd, trying to find some familiarity, but could only recognize a few of the faces, all squared away in one corner.\n\nThe crowd was so young, he thought, people in their twenties, mostly. He was nervous, and looked down at the folded sheet of paper he had with him. He hoped a few prepared remarks would be enough to calm his nerves. Normally he’d speak off the cuff – he was the kind of guy who would always be there with the right words, or a comforting touch. He could make you feel better about your day, or give you the confidence you needed to make the right decision. Right now though, David was lost.\n\nHe took a deep breath.\n\n“Hello everyone”, his voice was calm but wavering. “Thank you so much for coming out tonight.”\n\nHe looked over to his right and smiled. He knew he felt joy in his heart, but truthfully, looking upon his daughter clad in white lace, he felt alone.", "Dave was the finest horse tamer East of the Mississippi: he'd tamed wild chargers and broken the strongest horses from the furthest reaches of the planet.\n\nBut he was unemployed.\n\nWhen he saw the ad in the paper, he exploded. \"Skilled horse trainer needed by US Govt for long-term assignment in unorganized western territories.\"\n\nImmediately hired, Dave spent months upon months in the Nevada desert training hundreds of raw horses. He taught the hoses how to keep going in the impenetrable heat. The riders he taught how to care and love for their animals. \n\nBy the end of the year, they were ready. \n\nHundreds of horses and dozens of expert riders were fully prepared. No distance would prove too great. No weather too extreme. No delivery too burdensome.\n\nNothing stood in the way of the Pony Express. " ]	4
No rules. I'll submit mine in the comments.	[WP] Write something that breaks my heart.	[ "Every second friday was his favorite workday. Heshaun got paid on that day. Working day in and day out, starting at 6am in the morning and powering through twelve hours of work just to support his family, which consisted of just his younger brother Mesan. Ever since his their parents died in a car accident, Heshaun picked up the torch and carried his brother on his back.\n\nEvery night after picking up Mesan, they would hold hands and slowly walk home. Mesan kept staring into the glass of a toy store. Heshaun had noticed that Mesan had his eyes on this shiny new remote controlled helicopter. There were more 0's on the price tag than Heshaun has ever made. It read, 26000 Sri Lanka Rupee's (equates to around 200 dollars). His normal day job, earned him about 6 dollars a day, and that was only enough to survive on the bare minimum. Mesan's birthday was creeping around the corner. Heshaun decided to pick up another job at night to be a busboy at a restaurant in downtown Colombo. He would head out after Mesan had fallen asleep, and often wouldn't return home until the moon hung high in the dark sky. This busboy job earned him another extra 500 Rupee's (about 4 dollars) a night.\n\nHeshaun's skeleton was becoming more obvious, the harder he worked, the less meat he had on his body. Waking up at 6am, and heading off to his job at the rubber factory. Where toxic fumes poisoned his body from within. Then after 10pm, he would quietly 40 minutes to his busboy job to clean up. When Heshaun wasn't careful, he would always find cuts on his hand from plates or cups that broke.\n\nCoincidentally, both jobs paid Heshaun on the same day, every second Friday. Heshaun would hide the all of his hard earned money in his worn out shoe sole. After two months of working nonstop, day in and day out. All that his body consisted of was skin and bone only.\n\nMesan's birthday had passed. At that time, Heshaun hadn't saved enough money up for the remote control helicopter. Now Heshaun had confidently walked into the shop one night and bought the brand new toy to bring back and surprise Mesan.\n\nThe next night after picking up Mesan, they headed straight home. Upon opening the squeaky door, Mesan saw a huge wrapped present with a big blue bow on it. Mesan couldn't resist his urges, and jumped straight onto the box and ripped open the wrapping paper. And there it was, a shiny remote control toy helicopter. Mesan was overcome with joy! He let Mesan play with the helicopter as he was getting ready for his busboy job.\n\nHe returned late at night, and saw the helicopter was blast into smithereens. All of his hard work earned money was instantly gone, down the drain in a snap. Heshaun was furious and woke up Mesan and yelled at him about breaking toys, especially ones that he had worked so hard to afford for Mesan. Mesan was arguing back describing the poorly crafted toy broke on its own. But Heshaun knew that Mesan broke that big two hundred dollar bill.\n\nHeshaun slapped Mesan across the face for not understanding how to treasure things people give us. As Mesan was sobbing, he looked down and whispered, \"you aren't my dad, you can't tell me what to do\".\n\nHeshaun instantly lost his strength to support the both of them.", "She skips down the hallway, stopping in the wash room to fix her braided hair and tries to scrub the dirt off her leggings. Being only 6 there's only so much she can do, but she tries to look her best because today is special.\n\nThe entire car ride is silent, no one dares to speak. She swings her feet back and forth and tries to stretch herself tall enough to see out the window. They're getting closer now, there's the high school full of big kids, the clinic, the hospital - they're here.\n\nShe jumps out of the back seat and runs towards the door ready to burst with excitement, she knows the way. The elevator takes an eternity, and time is running low. Finally the metal doors open, and there before her is everyone she's ever known.\n\nShe smiles and waves hello, she peaks in the rooms while she walks by. There's people lying there grey and old. She reaches the last room on the right, runs inside smiling from ear to ear.\n\n\"Mommy!\" she screams, excited to finally visit again.\n\nHer mother doesn't move, she isn't old but she's so grey she's almost blue. She cannot speak, she can barely keep her eyes open, she's tired all of the time now. She strains to keep them open, staring at the little girl before her. Someone tells the little girl it's time to say goodbye, her mommy has to go.\n\n\"Goodbye Mommy! I love you!\" She skips out of the room and down the hall, her mother closes her eyes for the last time.", "The gentle rustling of the leaves below his feet dissolved into the serene silence of the night air. Dylan had always enjoyed silence when he walked. It let his thoughts flow more freely, as if his memories were timid children, only coming out to play when there was no noise to scare them back to the recesses of his mind. He looked up and smiled. The sky was clear tonight. The stars always reminded him of her.\n\t\nSabrina the Unicorn - that’s what she called it, her first constellation. She was four at the time, and Dylan was seven. The two of them had snuck out past their bedtimes to watch the stars in the backyard, as they often did. On the few occasions they were caught, Dylan had always been relieved the punishment seemed too light - two days without television. Of course, years later, he realized his parents had always known the kids were playing astronomer at night, and had only caught them to make the successful escapades more satisfying. On that one particular evening, she had stared intently at the sky for what seemed like forever, as if demanding the universe answer an unspoken question. Dylan knew not to interrupt, but it was unusually long, even for her. Without breaking her staring contest with the universe, she had emphatically declared, “There! That’s Sabrina the Unicorn!” They would name many more constellations together as the years went by, though that first one always was the most memorable. Dylan never had the heart to tell her it already had a name. The Big Dipper.\n\t\nThe air had become chilly and the intruder in Dylan’s jacket pocket had begun to make its presence felt. But he didn’t mind. He was, however, concerned with being late. Even though where he was going punctuality mattered to no one but himself. His footsteps quickened nevertheless, as if he was hoping the steady rhythm would drown out the memories that had come floating to the surface.\n\t\nThey had grown apart over the years. Different cities, different friends, different families. Dylan reminisced on his own children marveling at those infinite little sparks of hope resting on a pristine canvas. He was sure his nephews had done the same. She had grown into a busy person, as had he. They didn’t talk often. Every once in a while, though, at a holiday gathering or a family reunion, they would still try to find time to stargaze. It was in those rare moments that they truly shared their problems, their dreams, and their fears. He had not been able to talk to her like that in years. The last time they talked, she had told him about the cancer.\n\t\nA soft breeze brought Dylan out of his reverie. He had long ago stopped walking. His feet knew the way without his help. He took a deep breath, and stared into the heavens, searching for something he knew he would not find. As his eyes grew watery from the strain, he finally looked down. He reached into his jacket and retrieved a miniature telescope. Gently, he brushed the surface of the headstone with his palm and set the gift on top of it. \n\t\n“Hi sis, happy birthday.”\n", "He holds her to his chest, visibly shaking as tears cascading off his face. He rocks her as she grows cold in his arms. Headlights intensify as an unknown car drives past them, unknowingly she is taking her last breaths.\n\n\"Hold on baby, please hold on,\" he whispers into her ear as the sounds of sirens wail in the distance.\n\n\"They're almost here. Just hold on. They're almost here,\" he continues to choke out.\n\n \n\nA flickering light to the right of them catches his attention. He watches the light as it grows from a small flickering flame into a raging fire as his beloved motorcycle burns.\n\n \n\nShe opens her eyes and frowns at him. \"Your bike,\" she says, barely more than a whisper, \"what happened?\"\n\n \n\n\"I'm so sorry baby, I should have listened to you. I was going too fast,\" he says quietly, his sobs interrupting him from going any further.\n\n \n\n\"Why are you crying,\" she asks him quietly.\n\n \n\n\"You're bleeding so bad. I should have listened,\" he quietly admits.\n\n \n\n\"Shh, shh, shh...It's okay. I forgive you,\" she said before closing her eyes and exhaling.\n\n \n\nThe flashing red and white lights come to view as she spasms in his arms. \"No..No..NO...HELP!\" he begins shouting at the lights.\n\n \n\nHe raises his arm from across her stomach, blood dripping off it into the ditch under them. He waved it frantically as the ambulance came to a stop, smartly behind the engulfed motorcycle.\n\nThe paramedics came running down, red and white bags in their hands. The run their hands over her body. One of them begins cutting away her jeans, the crunch and tearing sounds magnifying in my ears with each downward push of the scissors into the blood soaked fabric.\n\n\"Ma,am. Are you okay Ma'am,\" one of the paramedics asked.\n\nA pained voice came through, \"Yes, just please help him. Save him!\"\n\nI see the accident as if I was floating above it. The paramedics hovering over a body, and my beautiful wife crying, her arms crossing, clutching to each other.\n\n\"Wake up baby, please...PLEASE...wake up,\" she says almost to herself.\n\nI open my eyes a final time, finally understanding that I was living my worst nightmare. I was hearing her say all those things to me...but my mind twisted it around as the blood drained from my head.\n\n\"I'm sorry ma'am,\" the paramedic said as he stood up from his kneeled position. \"He's gone.\"\n\nHer screams was the last thing I heard before fading into the night.", "It looked strange up close, bigger and more billowy than I'd imagined in my head. It really seemed massive to me, it was wider than my arm span and standing at the foot of it, the headboard seemed miles away. This bed didnt look like the cot I slept on after my social worker, Isaac pulled me out of my home. I looked up at ang- I mean 'mom', and saw a strange expression on her face. Hopeful maybe? Excited, almost. That confused me. Why would anyone be excited to give something away, especially something so big. My new mom spoke first. \n\"Well, do you like it?\" Her voice shook and she sounded nervous. I looked around me, noticing my surroundings other than the bed for the first time. There were a few dark colored pieces of furniture-- a desk with a rolling chair, a dresser, and a rocking chair in the corner. The walls were light blue and there was a soft quilt folded on the rocking chair. I noticed the posters on the wall of some of my favorite baseball players that I had mentioned to Isaac one afternoon while we watched the game on tv. I looked back to the bed, tears filling my eyes. I took a deep breath and looked up at my new mom, trying to picture how my childhood would have been if I'd lived with her all along. I saw visions of laughter and hugging and fun. I saw her putting a bandaid on my knee when I scraped it instead of pushing me down in our gravel driveway like my real mom had. She'd given me scraped knees and broken bones instead of fixing me. \"I've never had a bed before. Or posters...\" I felt my voice crack and I let my sentence trail off. In an instant, I felt Angie's arms around me, holding me close. I felt the tears spill over onto my cheeks and I whispered \"or a mom.\" I'm not sure if my mom heard me, but she squeezed me a little tighter. ", "The Hunched Woman\n\nEveryone looked away when she entered the cafe and stood at the entrance briefly to gain her composure. It was a sweltering hot summer day, a bit too early in the morning for these temperatures. Her upper spine was permanently bent forward at 45 degrees near her elbow level. She stood in line looking for her coin purse and when she found it she had to crane her head even lower and bend her back even more just so that she could look into it.\n\nShe had a beautiful face, framed by a mop of sun bleached hair in a tidy ponytail. Her wrinkles betrayed her comely features but it was not hard to peel back time just enough to see that she was very beautiful in her youth. I'm sure men chased her around back in the days but I wonder if they saw her crooked back first. I wonder if she's married. I wonder if she's lonely. I wonder if she ever fell in love. I wonder if she tried her best to attract him. I wonder how she felt when he rejected her. I wonder how he broke her heart. I wonder if she still to tends to it. I wonder if she has left it broken.\n\nHer drink is called from the bar. A large iced green tea frap. She takes a sip and gingerly places it at the bottom of one of those two wheeled grocery carts and leaves the cafe, dragging her drink behind her.\n\nNo one noticed her.\n\n", "Dear mom;\n\nTwenty two years ago, you brought me into this world. I can't imagine the pain you were in, being so small yet carrying two children. I know we put a strain on you. I'm sorry for that.\n\nI remember the way you used to talk to us. When we had friends, you would be the perfect mom, or just the \"cool mom\". But as soon as we were alone, you went back to treating us like shit. You hit us, beat us, said hurtful things. But you tried your best, mom, I know. I'm sorry.\n\nThen, you tried to be cool. You didn't want to be our mother, you wanted to be our friend. It didn't work with me. I tried so hard, but after you cancelled plans for the hundredth time, I gave up. Even though it was awhile ago, I shouldn't have ever given up. I'm sorry. \n\nFinally, when I became twenty one, you stopped trying so hard. I found that I could stand being with you for more than an hour. That was nice. We finally started mending. I apologized for not being there for you; you apologized for virtually the same. I'm sorry for everything.\n\nWe were worried about my stepdad's health. We knew yours wasn't the best, but we focused on him, thinking it would be him that goes first. We may still be right, but now it doesn't matter. I remember when you first told me about your diagnosis; hepatic encephalopathy. I learned very quickly what it was, and it terrified me. But I have to stay strong for you. I try my hardest, but it's too hard sometimes. I'm sorry.\n\nWhen you got to the point where you couldn't walk more than five steps, I took it in stride. I didn't show you that it kills me to see my mom so weak. I can't tell you, so I act nonchalant. I'm your son, the only one near you right now. I have to be brave. I know you need me. I'm sorry mom.\n\nI need you too. I'm 22, and we finally have the relationship I've always wanted. We talk every few days, and I visit you as often as possible. We have fun, you worry about me, I push it aside. Yes mom; things in my life are as bad as they seem sometimes. But I will not lean on you; you, who needs help in the shower sometimes, you who forgets things now, you who can't stand alone. I'm sorry. I will not add more weight to your burden.\n\nWe've had our relationship little over a year. And now they're trying to tell me that you have Alzheimers? You cried on my shoulder, and told me you'd rather die. I know you would. I'm so sorry mama. It'll be okay. \n\nNow I spend hours crying like a child. We spent so long at each other's throats, but now that we have a solid relationship, I have to worry about losing you. It's not fair. Thank the gods you're still here for now. I love you. I'm sorry.\n\nLove, spacepuppy69\n\n````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````\n\n\"Mom, I wrote you a letter.\"\nI open the door, wondering why you didn't respond. \"You still want me to come over today, right?\" I walk into the empty living room. \"Mom?\"\n\nFinally, I hear sounds coming from the bedroom. \"Mom!\" I cry, as I rush into the room. \"Why are you crying? What's wrong?\"\n\nI see your shrunken shoulders heave with your sobs. Finally, you raise your blue eyes to meet my brown ones. \n\n\"Mom... I wrote you something. I want you to read it, okay?\"\n\nShe looks at me quizzically, no longer sobbing. Thank the gods. You seem confused. \"Mom...?\"\n\nFinally, you look me in the eye and I see something. A twinkle. A small smile. You always put on a happy face for company. And you say the three words that rip my heart through my throat.\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\nEDIT: I know this isn't the best thing to be read. But you provided an outlet, thank you.", "It was a rainy day. He was sitting on their bench in the park. Something about the rain compelled him to this bench. Sometimes he acted upon this compulsion while others life got in the way. He still couldn’t understand what it was about the rain that brought him here. He had no connection with it and the bench, but the feeling was always there. He could sense it growing inside him as he smelled the rain approaching in the air. He would start to feel anxious. If he was in his office he would get up and pace around, almost gasping for different, dry air. Hoping the emotions would subside.\nBut often enough he went. And when he did he cried. Releasing everything he had been keeping in the past 4 years. He didn’t know why he couldn’t let the past go, just as he didn’t understand his connection to the rain. He supposed it was because in the rain no one could see you cry. Who would be able to discern the difference between raindrops and tear drops? Or maybe it was because you could be alone. Not many people visit the park in the rain. Especially to sit on the very same bench he did. \nSo maybe he went to be alone. He had felt so alone these past 4 years. This is the most he had ever thought about how things had changed for him. How he had changed. This is the first time he let himself remember that day.\nIt was not a rainy day. It was one of those warm summer evenings. You could hear the little frogs peeping in the pond. Maybe even an occasional rustle in the bushes. But besides that it was silent. He was sitting on the bench with her. Holding her in his arms as she rambled on about something she and her sister had planned for the upcoming weekend. He wasn’t listening. He was just absorbed in the moment. Letting the air push them together, where he knew he wanted to be. \nThe night had been so flawless. It was like a dream. They had gone to supper together at her favorite restaurant on the pier. After their meal they walked to her favorite spot, this bench. He touched his pocket and felt the little box. He interrupted her in a burst of confidence. She stopped and pulled away looking up at him. He was nervous but managed to find his one knee to the ground and ask her to marry him. Of course she said yes and a wave of relief washed over him. By this time the sun had gone down and the moon was rising so he decided it was time for him to bring her home. At her steps they said good night. He was watching her but as she was walking to the door she stopped. She turned around, he noticed a tear falling down her cheek, “I love you,” and she went inside.\nThat was 4 years ago. The last time he saw her. He tried to contact her and eventually sought information from her family but no one knew where she had gone. Still to this day no new discoveries had been made, her case was completely dismissed and he was left with nothing.\nHe now noticed the rain had stopped but he was still crying. He got up from the bench and tried to compose himself as best as possible as he thought, “Now back to life.”", "\"M...mom?\" I said in a quivering voice. \"Do you remember me?\" She looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes, her face the same as it was 6 months ago before the accident. She smiled at me, and a flower of hope blossomed in my chest. Perhaps she did recognize me. \n\n\"I'm sorry.. who are you?\" she said in an apologetic tone. Blood rushed into my ears as I sank to the floor. My eyes were blurred with tears. I felt two hands firmly grab me, and the nurse pulled me up. \n\nDad had warned me before I went inside the room. He had said that things would be different, but that I shouldn't give up hope. I had dismissed his concerns and thought nothing of them. \n\nAfter all, how can a mother forget her own son?\n", "He’s lost touch with the world.\n\nThe teachers call his parents with concern, because its gone past the point of simple make believe a child his age goes through. I don’t know which makes me sadder: the fact that I’ve lost him, or the fact that I envy how easy it was for him to lose himself. Make believe, so much better than the real world. Those kinds of things shouldn’t happen to kids, but they do. It happened to both of us. Being raised with an abusive parent, a mad man. Very mad. These things happen. The only difference between him and me is that I was born first. Old enough to run away, but not enough to take him with me. They tell me he asks for me, but I don’t think I’ll visit. Knowing him, or how he used to be, he would ask me how to make the voices and nightmares go away. I haven’t figured it out yet.\n", "\"Remember David, don't be shy. Stand up straight, this is very important to the family.\" My mother said to me whilst brushing off my clothes. I was nervous, I had known love in the form of a poor girl who worked for her father in the market. However, I was forbidden from seeing her. \"Families like that do not mix with ours\" My father had told me, tears rushing down my face from the lashing I'd received. I never saw that girl again, but I will never forget her face. I think about her every waking second, about them pulling us apart. About the last time I was ever truly happy. Would I feel this way with the girl whom I'd been arranged with? I opened the door and walked into the room. She was standing there, nervous as well, her face red. She had obviously been crying. \"Hello, my name is Ashley\" she muttered out unable to look into my eyes. I greeted her back but felt nothing but emptiness inside. I did not instantly fall in love with her but maybe, one day, we would grow to enjoy each other's company. We were to be married in two months time and it was decided that we should meet and get to know one another. We spent the next two months learning about the other and got married just as our parents wished. We both gave it our best shot at love but I could not forget the girl from the market, she too had someone on her mind. I asked her one particularly dreary morning, \"Who is it that you love? I know I am not that person, neither you mine but I must find out who your heart truly belongs to.\" She started to weep, and then for the first time, she looked me in the eyes. She looked at me with tears falling off her cheeks and said \"I love a boy from a lower class then I, when I found I was to be married I left him so as not to upset the family. I ran into him at the market yesterday. He had married a poor girl who's father worked there and they seemed truly happy together.\" My eyes began to water. Not because my wife and I did not love one another. Not because our parents kept us from the one's we did love. But because both of our loves had found true happiness, these were tears of joy.", "Happiness means sacrifice. It doesn't necessarily mean success. Happiness doesn't always mean victories. Sometimes, happiness comes at the price of a bitter defeat. Sometimes, happiness comes at the price of a great sadness. Yet, even after all the sadness and the losses… happiness arrives. Unceremoniously and suddenly. \n\nElla believed that happiness would come one day. She’s one of those people who believe that everything happens for a reason. When she told everyone in her grade nine class that she would someday go to Harvard, some called her an optimist. When she struggled throughout high school to just pass, some teachers called her hopeless. When she ran off with her boyfriend to go to Boston to be closer to Harvard, her parents called her a dreamer. Ella, however, thought herself to be a fighter. A warrior, even. She proudly wore her hard earned battle scars.\n\nShe worked two full time jobs. She attended a local college part time. When she left her boyfriend, she found her own place. When her old car broke down, she learned how to pay for it when she couldn't afford to get it fixed. When a faucet leaked or her computer broke down, she learned how to fix those as well. She fought for her independence. She won. \n\nSometimes, the victory would feel bitter. She spent the past Christmas alone for the first time in her life. The last time she heard from her parents was when her mother sent her a letter to break the news that her father had passed away. Pangs of loneliness ached in her heart when she heard her upstairs neighbours going at it in a passionate bout of love making. \n\nShe won that battle as well. She remembered the first time he hit her. He said he was sorry. She remembered when he cheated on her. He said it didn't mean anything. He said he was sorry. He’s told her “sorry” countless times after that. Before she stormed out of their apartment, she slapped him as hard she could. She looked at him in the eyes and told him,\n\n“I’m not sorry”. \n\nElla touched her belly. Her last victory wasn't just hers. No, from now on, Ella would be fighting for two. Ella blocked out her upstairs neighbours. She didn't have much; but what she did have, she earned it through her hard work. Ella went to bed, content and happy.\n\nA few days later, Ella collapsed at work from an intense pain in her lower stomach. She was cold all over. Her co-workers told her she looked pale. They called an ambulance, but Ella couldn't remember much after that.\n\nShe woke up in a hospital bed, her mother asleep in a chair next to her. \nElla touched her belly.\n\nSomething was wrong.\n\n“Mom?” she whispered weakly.\n\n“Oh! Ella! Baby, I’m so glad you’re alive. How are you feeling, sweetheart?” her mother asked, coming closer to hold her hand.\n\n“Mom…my baby…”\n\nHer mom’s face dropped. Ella’s eyes began to burn. Her hands shook and trembled. \n\n“Oh… Ella… honey…sweetheart,” her mother began.\n\nHappiness means sacrifice. It doesn't necessarily mean success. Happiness doesn't always mean victories. Sometimes, happiness comes at the price of a bitter defeat. Sometimes, happiness comes at the price of a great sadness. Yet, even after all the sadness and the losses… happiness arrives. Unceremoniously and suddenly. \n\nElla once believed that happiness would come one day. A year after her miscarriage, Ella realized that she had to find happiness herself. She couldn't wait for happiness to come for her anymore. Ella went outside to the rooftop of her building and she jumped off the edge. \n\nUnceremoniously and suddenly. \n", "\"Can I hold her?\"\n\nTears in his eyes, he lifts the tiny bundle and hands her to me.\n\n\"Hello baby,\" I croon, \"Mommy's going to tell you a story.\"\n\nI brush a tiny hair off her forehead, and swaddle her more tightly in her blanket.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a beautiful princess.\n\nHer mother the queen and her father the king were so happy when she was born.\n\nThey threw a party and invite all the fairies in the land. All but one.\n\nI hear my voice through a fog, as I tell my daughter her first fairy tale. Sleeping beauty. I gaze done and her eyes are closed. She can't hear me.\n\nI finish the story anyway.\n\nThe princess pricked her finger and fell into a deep sleep. She would sleep so long that no one now alive outside the castle would be alive when she woke.\n\nWhile she slept, vines grew up around the castle, and around the hearts of all those she loved. The ivy covered them and sent them to rest with her.\n\n\nThe whole day was surreal. My life was surreal. How could anyone ever imagine something so intense.\n\nLove for this tiny baby swelled my heart till I thought I might choke on it. A sob caught in my throat.\n\n... the end.\n\nA man stood over me. I attempted to meet his gaze. \"It's time,\" he said.\n\nI nodded slowly, barely comprehending.\n\nI took a deep breath and looked down at my baby girl. Then, gently laying a kiss on her purple-blue lips, I laid her back in her coffin and walked away.\n ", "I will never, ever tell her.\n\nI'll never tell her how, the day we walked through the doors of Walker County High School, she was the only person who said hello to the new kid, me. Not about how, for the next four years, she was the only one who said hello, every day, to the antisocial kid, me. As much as she'd love to hear it, she'll never know how she was the one who pulled me from the brink in senior year after my parents died, or how, when the college entrance essays asked you about your \"role model,\" I filled pages with descriptions of her contagious enthusiasm, her compassion, or her zest for knowledge.\n\nI'll never tell her how I won that scholarship to MIT. I said I'd been rejected, and even the DUI settlement wasn't enough to pay for tuition anywhere besides Walker County Community College. No way I'd tell her the truth that, when I heard she hadn't made it into Juliard or her backups, I'd called the admissions counselor as soon as I found a phone to tell them I'd changed my mind. She'll never know that she was the reason I stayed home, in backwater Walker County.\n\nI'll never tell her how, that autumn day ten years ago, I fell in love. I can't tell her how stopping by her diner for my morning coffee is the highlight of my day, or how whenever she laughs at one of my lame jokes my soul is set on fire. I've never told her just how her laugh is so warm that it made a summer day seem chilly, or how the little upturn in her smile whenever she gets a crazy idea makes my mind go blank.\n\nI'll never tell her that I know she feels the same way about me.\n\nI'll never tell her for the same reasons that I never told her about my dad's genetic curse, or about the hospital bills that keep growing by the week no matter how much I cut from my grocery budget, or about how the doctors are naming the disease after me. She can never know that the coffee and donut I compliment her on every morning just come back up an hour later, no matter what pills they give me. She doesn't know that every morning I spend with her is in defiance of a thousand case studies, and that every night I update my will just in case I don't wake up the next morning. \n\nI can't bear for her to know. So I will never, ever tell her." ]	14
	[WP] You go through school believing your alive on the day of graduation your name is not called and soon realize your a ghost. How do you react?	[ "I kind of vomited this out. Enjoy.\n_________________________________________________________\n\nI was used to being ignored. I had grown to accept being forgotten, even. I remember the days when teachers would fail to recall I was even there in the classroom; I would simply sit and struggle with the work presented to me, my calls for assistance so rarely answered. My voice had always been weak, lacking in presence, like the person that it was the product of.\n\nThough I had felt myself a spectre for much of my life, I never had guessed that I was honestly a ghost. At the graduation ceremony, as I waited, I heard the name of student after student being called. But never my own. I waited patiently for my name to be called. God, just to hear my name-- I almost forgot what it felt like to hear it pronounced. Would I even recognize it? But it never came. As the area cleared out, and the school grounds were silent, I stood there alone, still waiting for something. Still waiting to be acknowledged.\n\nFor how long have I been dead, I wondered? That's what I asked when it had finally hit me, when my mind broke out of the trance of waiting, and I looked down at my own body just to make sure I was real, that I was all there. I was not. My hands, my limbs, my entire body, gone. I could not see any of what I had known to be me. Yet I could see. And so here I was-- a consciousness without a body. Is that what I've been all this time? No, now I really was gone, beyond saving. Before there had always been the hope. But now I truly was far gone, as though to the other side of existence. \n\nMy physical body, in those days prior, was truly the only thing that I felt connected me to reality, to the outer world. I would often come home to stare in the mirror in passing, perceiving each line of my face and try to decide whether I was human or not. Just to affirm that I really did have a body. But now, that body was gone; it'd left me, and my mind was all I had left. What a cruel fate, because I had begun to loathe this mind, and I clung to this foolish idea that maybe, after abandoning the school I had spent so many miserable years in, I could flee my old mind for a new one that I could stand.\n\nBut now only my internal world and all of it's thoughts accompanied me. Cut so abruptly from the world that I had long been an intruder in, I could do nothing but wander and observe the creatures go on with their daily lives. I began to disassociate myself from them entirely; I was not human anymore. But the odd thing, was that I felt free. For once, I felt no shame; I no longer felt like I was a burden on the world. Because now, I was solitary in my own plane, looking in on my old home. I no longer felt ashamed to walk through the towns, because I felt confidence in that no one could ever know who I am.\n\nI no longer had to compile plans for a future in a world that did not want or need me; a world that held nothing for me, and that I came to desire nothing from. After so many months of travel, in my state of formlessness, it dawned on me that I had never expected to live at all. I was born to be an outsider; one who does not care for his own body or mind, but for the very worlds he observes and passes through. I no longer felt any loss, because I felt that I was never meant to be a part of anything anyway. I was never meant even to be a part of myself.\n\nMaybe one day I'll die on this plane, and that will be the end of it. Or maybe I won't die, and I will live on forever; observing, learning, moving on through the streets and the homes and the forests and the oceans. I can honestly say it does not matter to me at all; because, here, living and dying are both just as simple to do. They are both the same thing. " ]	1
Just make it interesting. Does he/she give powers to everyone? Are the powers random? Does he/she make them symbolic to the tattoo? Let's see what you guys can come up with :)	[WP] You are a tattoo artist who has the ability to give people powers from the tattoos you give them	[ "I was a scientist at heart. I say was because I lost my curiosity decades ago. Eventually I found out it was the parlor, it only worked in the parlor. I once gave someone super intelligence to help me work out why but that didn't- you know what? That's not important.\n\nSee the real clincher is this - I started off trying to do good things. As an idealistic youth I gave people powers that would better the world. Before I knew it I was giving other people powers to stop the first batch from destroying everything. I know what you're thinking but eventually I managed to stop that cycle.\n\nNow I only give fun powers. Last week I drew a tumble weed on someone's back... whenever she wants she can make everyone in a room think the speaker is incredibly boring.\n\nI'll admit sometimes I'm a little mean. You'd think super speed would be really fun, wouldn't you? It builds though. You start moving so fast that the blink of an eye feels like an hour. Then you can't sit still and eventually BOOM you crash into a wall and die.\n\nSit still or it's going to hurt. What? I did that speed thing to a deadbeat who skipped town on his kids. Just to help him run a bit faster next time.\n\nDon't squirm, I'm done.\n\nNow I know you said you wanted a unicorn surfing a rainbow through a leprechaun... but that's not quite what you got.\n\nWhat's that? You'll need to speak up I can't hear you. Of you want to know what I drew instead? Let me get you a mirror. See that, that's a picture of a cat who happens to be holding onto your tongue. ", "This dude came into my shop one time. Something about him seemed...off. Like, he looked normal and acted normal and everything, but something about the way he carried himself gave me the impression that...and I don't want to be too judge-y...but he just didn't seem very happy, like he had too many shitty days in a row and life is just too much. I know that feeling.\n\nHe was nervous. He said he'd never gotten a tattoo before. His friend (I don't think they're dating), came along with him, giving him some moral support. I told him that I'd try to make everything go as smoothly as possible for him. He thanked me and I asked him if he knew what he wanted.\n\nHe asked me if I've ever read 'The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime.'\n\nI've never even heard of it. He went on to explain that it was his favorite book. Apparently, it's about some retard kid who trying to solve a dog murder mystery. Interesting, I guess.\n\nHe said the main character likes the color red, and if he sees 3 in a row, then he will have a good day. So he wants me to tattoo 3 red cars on him. Easy enough. I gave him my quote, and he said he had the money on him now. So I was off to work on him. Specifically his bicep. He has a drawing of the cartoon-ish car that he wanted. \n\nSo there he is, sitting in the chair and squirming. His friend is sitting off to the side, half paying attention and playing some dragon game on her phone. \n\nThe tattoo doesn't take too long to finish. It was pretty simple. A few lines and some red ink and bam, done. He got off the chair and examined his arm. \n\nAnd then he smiled, which I don't think I saw him do all fucking day. He just stood there, beaming and his arm, then his friend, then me. He paid and then he left, walking out the door with a little bounce in his step. I haven't seen him since. I hope he's doing well and having himself some good days. ", "Run with the wind,\nFly through the sky.\nDance with the wolves,\nOr let time pass you by.\n\nAs big as a tree,\nAs small as an ant.\nSell me your soul\nAnd your wish, I shall grant.\n\nThe ink in my gun,\n\"Magic!\" you might say.\nBut in my opinion,\nIt's just another day.\n\nNow you feel depressed,\nCraving for joy and smiles of glee.\nSo young and so naive,\nHoping to feel happy and feel free.\n\nWhen all is said and done,\nYou're nothing but years to me.\nThe \"powers\" never work quit right\nMy trick to stay so healthy.\n\nSoon your body will end,\nAnd consciousness begin.\nScreams of pain and torment,\nas you're woven into my skin.\n\nEvery single customer,\nA prisoner within my gun.\nFueling my own life,\nSo I may fuel temporary fun.\n\n\"What's that my friend?\"\n\"Powers are what you need?\"\n\"I've been around a while now,\nSo no worries, you won't even bleed.\"\n\n~Shazoosticka", "I looked at the walk-in with disdain, and a little pity. Unkempt beard, greasy hair, crooked teeth as he flashed a self-conscious smile...I could already tell what it would be. He pulled off his ragged ballcap and began a familiar chatter.\n\n\"So you're the uh, the Artist?\" the man said, wrinkling his hat in his hands.\n\n\"You got it boyo. You'll be wanting a temp?\"\n\nHe nodded emphatically.\n\nOne hour later it was done. As he waved on his way out, I caught the syringe tattoo emptying and evaporating. It's funny, they always said tattoos were addictive.", "I only wanted to do this because of Tmoore4748, thanks for inspiration.\n____________________________________________________________\n\nI gave life. It was beautiful in the beginning. I learned how to draw when I was so young. I was always so fascinated by the curve in a line, or by the beauty in hard rectangle. Everything seemed so interesting back then. Every dot could tell me a story. Every line a life. But as I grew I needed more. Everything I touched needed to be more. It started simply. Little by little until I was filling entire books with the best drawing I could. I didn't bother much with anything else at that point. It didn't seem worthwhile. Until I grew bored. I wanted more than paper. I wanted something living, but I saw no way to get it. So I stopped drawing.\n\nYet as the years past and I entered college I remembered my origins. I found my way into a little room in the back of the art school and saw tattoos for the first time. I saw what it looked like to etch upon human flesh. I saw life and movement in simplistic drawings. I knew I could make it more in that moment.\n\nI became consumed within months. Everything I did revolved around etching upon leather. I was unwilling to do less than perfection upon a living canvas. I had to be the best first.\n\nMy friend underwent my needle first. He was the first one. The one I remember most. He wanted it simple a lightning bolt arching across his shoulder. However the moment I touched his skin with my needle I couldn't see the design. I only knew the emotion. The truth in the drawing itself. I wanted it to be as electric as the principle itself. I don't remember stopping. I don't even remember him saying anything during it, yet in the end I thought it was perfect. It honestly took his breath away. \n\n\nI thought that would be it. The drawing and the life I had sacrificed would end when I removed the needle. His love for it was beautiful, but in truth I only cared about the artwork. I wanted it to be the best and it was. The way the stroke of lightning moved through the clouds was breathtaking. It seemed to move every time he his heart beat. It took us a while to see what happened next. It started slowly. A few micro shocks here a few there. Then he fried his computer. He didn't understand what was happening, but I felt oddly involved. I tried to ignore it until the entire city block went out. I tried to ignore it even when the phone rang with his voice crying out that I help him. Even as he explained how he had gotten furious at a guy near some random club. The way the lights had flickered even as he stuck wasn't enough to warn him. I almost dropped the phone when he finally told me how the entire block had gotten black when he actually stuck the dude. It seemed stupid. Until he told me the way the eletricity flowed out of the lights into him. Arching across the sky to touch his skin. Touch where I had brought life. \n\n\nI swore of art for a while after that. I felt responsible for his actions. For his arrogance when he called me. I even felt responsible when he died. I should of seen the way he acted was a sign. He eventually fell to the cops when they came for him. It took a toll on the force but all was quiet afterwards. Until my girlfriend asked for one. She swore she was worth it. That if I loved her I should give her the most beautiful rose in the world, carved upon her own flesh. I remember smiling even though I was scared. I didn't really want to work, but my body was craving it. I vaguely remember the way her rose seemed to flicker as she smiled. The way it curved across her neck. I felt weaker but it was worth it, for her. \n\n\nIt didn't take nearly as long to change her. Her garden was more beautiful by the day. She didn't tell me anything important until it was to late though. Her skin was turning green under all the clothing. I wondered why she had been hiding so much. I was almost sad to be craving another canvas, but the beauty was worth it. \n\nThe way the ink flowed from there was astonishing. Each person that lined up at my door was given a new piece of art to walk away with. But I didn't feel as satisfied anymore. I was growing bored again, bored and weak. I kept going at first, one after another. I think I hit over a hundred before I actually craved more. That's when I started pouring myself into the work. I don't know why I did it but at some point I put my own blood in the ink. The ink became so much more at that point. It drew better than the finest quills, in any color I desired. I think I did ten like that. Ten gorgeous drawings etched in human skin. I was too tired after that.\n\n\nBut those ten became gods in my new world. I don't remember when I knew what I could do but they proved it. I was the true creator in this existence. It was all up to me. Ten people hand chosen at my own door. Ten of the best individuals each gifted with the ability of their own choosing. Some could even create their own new life. It was perhaps my greatest creation. But even with whimpering breaths I wanted more. I wanted myself. \n\n\nI remember turning the needle on my own arms, my neck, my legs. Anything I could reach became a canvas of life, until I had done everything. Everything in the robes that men had always feared. My greatest canvas hugged my figure, etched in the color of darkness. I was tired of creation. I wanted to take things back now. I wanted to bring things with me. I wanted to collect the perfect beauty. I wanted life itself to be mine. No I wanted to destroy it. I remember now, I wanted to undo it all. I wanted art to end. The perfection of life to unravel. Yet the very tool of creation wasn't enough, far too small. \n\n\nWonder if I could draw a scythe with these bony fingers...", "The latest client was a nervous man in his mid-forties, his face red from the bitter cold of Chicago winter, his black hair thinning after years of apparent stress. His curious stare made a long sweep around my little shop before meeting my own eyes. \n\nIt was clear he had never been in a tattoo parlor before, especially one like mine. He had a distressed air about him, the opposite of my usual clientele of spoiled young suburbanites and Superman fan-boys that showed like packs of wolves looking to see if the tales were true.\n\nMost of those types of clients I turned away due to my own code of ethics. Through trial and error I had come to consider myself a solid judge of who would handle the responsibilities my tattoos entailed and who would crash and burn.\n\nThe man before me now seemed to be of a different breed than those who came to my shop for a thrill or a dare. There was a desperate look about him that I liked to see in my clients. Desperation always meant a good tale, and usually an interesting power as well that could test my always-developing skills.\n\nIt’s never really been about the money you see; if it were I’d have become the equivalent of a superpower crack dealer long ago. For me, it’s always been about the stories. People need to convince me they need the power, not simply that they want it. Call me selfish, call me an asshole, but when I’m the one holding the needle, we play by my rules.\n\nWordlessly, I motioned the man over to sit on a nearby sofa while I worked on my current client, a woman who had nearly drowned in a cruise-ship accident a few months ago. I delicately placed the needle to her skin as the man sunk into the couch. He stared inquiringly as I slowly perfected my latest artwork.\n\nAfter I finished with the client, who began admiring the pair of inked gills on her neck in a nearby mirror, I turned my attention to the awkward man on the sofa.\n\nAt this point he was clearly uncomfortable, and might have even had second thoughts if I hadn’t called him over. He laid back uneasily on the chair where I did my work, and waited for me to give him instruction.\n\nAfter a moment of awkward silence, he finally realized I was waiting for him to talk.\n\n“I…I heard you could give people tattoos,” he muttered, head bent low.\n\nI scoffed at the simplicity of that statement.\n\n“Well this is a tattoo parlor,” I responded cheerfully. I wasn’t about to let him in that easily, especially since I still received a fair share of customers that actually just wanted a tattoo. For all I knew, he could have been in the midst of a mid-life crisis and was trying to scare his wife into sleeping with him again.\n\n“I meant…you see…I heard you could give people special tattoos,” he mumbled, trying to get the message across.\n\n“All tattoos can be special,” I replied. Despite feeling a bit sorry for the guy, I liked to have my fun with clients. “It just depends on how the person being inked feels about them.”\n\n“No, you know what I mean,” he said, clearly getting flustered. “I heard you could give people powers.”\n\nAh. The magic word. Just was I was waiting to hear.\n\n“I see,” I said, preparing for my favorite part. “And why would a man like you have need for powers?”\n\nThe man paused, contemplating whether to share his story. I leaned forward in anticipation, pondering what kind of tale the nervous man would spin. It always was always my belief that the origin story held twice as much fun as the actual powers themselves.\n\n“My wife was the love of my life,” he began. “We married at 22, after meeting during our freshman year of college. She wore the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen. It was the happiest day of my life.”\n\nThe man paused, emotion surfacing in his pale eyes. After a few moments he continued.\n\n“Two months ago a man broke into our home. He took as much as he could and then shot my wife in the chest. She has been in a coma ever since. I’ve found the man who did this. Apparently he has a heroin addiction. He shot the person I care most about just to get a fix.”\n\nThe man shook his head in disbelief.\n\n“You’d like to hurt him,” I interjected, preparing to turn this man down. One of my cardinal rules was that my powers would not directly cause harm.\n\n“No,” the man responded immediately, as if shocked by what I was suggesting. “I’d like to heal him. That man’s addiction is what destroyed my family. If you can give me the power to destroy that addiction, it will be enough to honor her.”\n\nI was taken aback, and at first could not think of how to help this man. After a few moments of thought, the idea suddenly came to me. I gently grabbed the man’s arm, wiped it with a sterilizing pad, and brought the needle to his skin. He flinched initially when the pain first hit, but soon became numb to it. I wasn’t surprised. The man’s story taught me he was clearly used to pain.\n\nAfter what seemed like seconds of work, I revealed my creation to the man. On his pale skin lay an exact copy of my needle, inked in shades of black and blue.\n\n“Think of it as the cure to others’ pain,” I explained.\n\nThe man nodded, placed a few twenties in my hand, and left without a word. \n\nYou see it’s never about the money with me. It’s always been about the stories. And I love a good ending.\n", "\"Anything?\"\n\n\"Anything.\" The man sat down, pulling his shirt off to reveal a body that had seen abused, from the inside and out. It was clear that he had been a cutter at some point, probably after some point he had stopped being physically abused by whoever he was with, be it a lover, a parent, someone. Scars littered his flesh, burns, tears, bullet holes even, years of torment, lightly faded yet bold enough not to ignore. Some of the scars on his arms were old track marks, veins torn and collapsed, leaving thin blackened lines, permanently etched on the inside of his arms. The redden eyes, the shaking hands, the light sweat on his brow, all signs of something I had seen firsthand hand.\n\nI changed my equipment, donning new gloves as I moved to his upper arm, a design already set in my head. With the pen in my hand, I went to work, carefully watching the man lean back and relax the best he could, his brow furrowed either in deep contemplation or an attempt to relieve the throbbing pain that buried itself inside his skull. \n\nThe simple goblet was easy enough to draw, at least the main piece, getting the details right would be the task. With the gun in my hand, I started, concentrating on both design and recipient, making sure that both remained in the best condition while under my hands. Gold and black, little details to make it come to life. I had to make sure that this was right, he needed this and I wasn't about to about to fail someone who could use the help.\n\n\"When was your last drink?\" An eye creaked opened, slowly focusing on me before falling back close. A sigh, heavy with years of guilt attached to it, slipped from his lips followed by a grim chuckle.\n\n\"Barely a two days ago...\"\n\n\"How many times have you tried to stop?\"\n\n\"Too many.\" Another laugh, this time lighter than the first one, sounded. \"Is it that obvious?\"\n\n\"To someone who is sitting on a ten year coin, yes.\" The silence returned over the two of us, the repeating needle the only thing echoing in the small shop. I finished before the clock struck 1 AM, sitting back to admire the work I had created in less than an hour. The detailed goblet with a cross section, making it look as if the cup would empty. The gold and black nearly shone in the dim light, and it was my turn to smile. \"I think you'll fine yourself just fine.\"\n\nHe twisted to look, his thick eyebrow raising up, silently questioning what I had given him. \"Okay... I'm lost. What is it.?\"\n\n\"A Pythagorean cup. Fill it with a bit of alcohol and you're fine. Too much and all of it drains out.\" Wiping away the last bit of extra ink, I moved to put my things away.\n\n\"...well, I did say anything.\" He reached for his wallet, still unsure of what to think of the tattoo, but I shook my head.\n\n\"Don't worry about it. It was my pleasure.\"\n\n\"You sure?\"\n\n\"I am.\" I stood, heading towards a small refrigerator I had in the back, my boots clicking on the tile. \"Sit still for a bit. Don't want you passing out after all of that. Can I get you anything to drink?\" Grabbing a soda for myself, I waited for his answer, letting the magic sink in, hoping that I had done a good enough job to have the desired effect.\n\n\"Yeah... got a bottle of water or something?\"\n\n-094" ]	7
It can be any kind of monster. And sort of love.	[WP] A person falls in love with the monster under their bed. The monster in their closet is none too pleased.	[ "The dull heartbeat of the underground matched my own as I stared at my book, not really reading it, just using it as something to look at when I am not looking at the next station. Green Park, Piccadilly, then Leicester, I’d be home. The train starts to slow down, Green Park. Only two more to go, I look at my watch, still the same time as when I last looked. I look around the carriage, grey faces and grey suits, lifeless eyes staring into nothing. I look past the soul crushing boredom to see them, the monsters, and they are far more interesting. One great purple octopus creature lounges on the ceiling, every visible surface covered in eyes. Two small red children, bloated bellies and spindly arms are hiding beneath the chairs. I smile as a gigantic kaleidoscopic lion sprawled on the floor snores heavily with its luscious belly presented to the air, asking me to stroke it. As he breathes, a grey man’s newspaper flutters.\n\nPiccadilly.\n\nJust one more stop. I used to be afraid of them, when I was younger. That seems so foolish now, most of them are harmless, almost like children. The red goblins under the chairs have started taking it in turns to pull at the lion’s tail, then run back under the chairs. After one particularly vicious pull the lion jolts awake, his massive form shaking the whole train. The greys grasp the handles and lean against the movement, oblivious to its origin.\n\nLeicester Square, mine.\n\nI stand in front of the doors, press the button. The doors open, coincidence. I step off and make my way up the platform, up the stairs. My footsteps match my heart as I rush towards the barriers, as close to running as walking will allow.\n\nUp a street, down an alley, I ignore an old man being eaten by crimson locusts, they have been eating him for days. Open door, up stairs. Open door, and I am home.\n\nI breathe a sigh of relief, and look around my apartment. Three rooms, kitchen, bedroom and bathroom, no floor space, but it was home. It was mine. I throw my book on the singular counter and flump down onto the bed. That should wake him. I have to wait only a few seconds until I see seven long green fingers grip the edge of the bed, they haul up a long thin arm followed by an almost skeletal body, green skin tight across the bones like a drum. The face above is eerily human, but for the lack of eyes. I’m not looking at his eyes, I’m looking at his mouth, the warm smile of a friend, my only friend.\n\nHe drags himself closer, revealing his lower half, or lack thereof. His long fingers stroke my face, remembering who I am, and his smile grows once more. I hold his hand as it tries to retreat, and kiss each fingertip in turn, my lips lingering on the last. With that he moves as quick as lightning, closing the gap between his lips and mine. His fingers in my hair, his body pressed against mine. I return the favour, my tongue slips against his, my teeth clash against his. Too excited, too rushed. We laugh, I hate my laugh but his is like velvet. WE kiss again, slower this time, on my part it is to savour the moment, on his part it is because he is concentrating with his other hand behind my back, seven fingers does not make a bra strap easier. Finally he is victorious and he stops kissing my mouth, he plants one on my neck. He kisses a little lower. A little lower. A button of my shirt needs removing. Another kiss. Another button. Another kiss. Another button. Kiss, button, kiss, button, kiss. One more button, he darts his tongue into it and I laugh, he knows that I will but he does it every single time. His seven fingers roll their way up my back, tangling my blouse in my arms above my head, I close my eyes as a wave of warmth rises through me.\n\nA screech echoes in my ears, I open my eyes and am confronted by a half naked woman with eagle’s wings and beak ripping my love from me. She had burst from the cupboard and had now grabbed Buddy by the shoulders and smashed him against the wall. Once, twice. He managed to grasp her throat with one of his hands and started to crush. Panic entered her eyes as she squawked, clawing at where Buddy’s own eyes should be. She bit at his wrist with her razor sharp beak but it was too late, she was too weak. They both fell on the bed beside me in a flurry of feathers and blows.\n\nA deafening crack signalled the end of the show. The harpy lay quite lifeless on the bed. Buddy cracked his own neck, rolled his shoulder and gave me his wonderful grin.\n\nI went to him, freeing my arms from my grey suit and we entangled ourselves in each other, caring not a whit for the corpse we shared a bed with. We were monsters after all.\n", "My mind drifted somewhere between sleep and the slow ballad trickling out from my ear buds, I was immersed in that transient space that your mind occupies between wakefulness and exhaustion. My thoughts teetered unsteadily on the cliff of coherence and were gradually beginning to drop off. That’s when I heard it. Not a dramatic thud, or a theatrical clank, no this was a much more subtle noise. It wasn’t the sound’s volume that shook me so deeply, but rather its eerie familiarity. A gentle whoosh followed by a slight thump. My body jerked upon hearing it, an involuntary reaction that I wish I could have prevented. Suddenly awake, and feeling the tingle of every nerve ending, I tried desperately to grasp at straws of logic. “What was that?” “Where have I heard that before?” Unable to answer, I laid as still as possible, my heart still pounding. I began hypothesizing, frustrated with inconclusive theories. As the minutes passed and the consoling silence returned to my room my heart regained a slow and steady cadence. I chuckled softly to myself at how preposterously I had reacted. “For God sakes, I’m 17 years old.” I thought “I’m ridiculous”. I stuffed the ear buds back into my ears, allowing the sound to fill my thought space. I drifted off to sleep.\nMy eyes shot open. Suddenly alert again, and certain that something had just caressed my arm I blinked forcefully trying to recognize the objects in my room that were cloaked in a veil of darkness. One by one my possessions came into focus, a dresser, my laptop, my purse. I continued to slowly scan the room. “I don’t remember leaving the closet door open, huh.” Content that nothing seemed terribly out of place, I convinced myself that I must have dreamt the touch. I closed my eyes and then slowly I turned over. Just as I resigned myself to returning to dreamland I heard it again “whoosh…thump”. A sudden lump in my throat, I debated whether or not to open my eyes. I had to know. What was this familiar sound? In an instant I opened my eyes again and rolled toward the direction of the noise.\nWhen my eyes met his I couldn’t breathe. A sudden rush of emotions, I felt paralyzed. A mix of fear, déjà vu, and confusion swept over me. His inhuman face was strangely familiar and inexplicably beautiful. I sat motionless trying to comprehend the figure before me. He grinned a gentle grin. A flood of memories saturated my brain and unconsciously I relaxed my body. “Hello Ben” I said with a groggy smile. “Hi Liz” he replied, his voice much deeper than I remembered.\nImaginary friends are the currency of creative childhood play. Some children have many and cast off old ones easily in order to create new playmates. Some have many and maintain them simultaneously, makes for a great tea party. And others have just one that they invest all their time in, creating rich detailed friends, and elaborate worlds in which to dwell, that was me. Some kids fear the monster under the bed. I married him.\nBen leaned in and silently wrapped me in a comforting embrace, and I relished the feeling of his long lost arms. The moment was fleeting though. As Ben began to slowly back away, I recognized a look of concern in his eyes. “What’s wrong Ben?” I asked gently. Ben looked at me contemplatively before saying “Liz, I don’t know how to tell you this…do you remember how rich and elaborate the worlds were that we created together?” I nodded inquisitively. “Well” ben explained “those worlds were so elaborate, that they somehow took on a tangible form, and spawned other worlds and monsters well beyond what you and I created.” Ben paused then said hesitantly “do you remember Rutherio?” I shook my head in dismay recalling the ruthless monster we banished to the world inside the closet. “You see” ben said “for the last nine years I have struggled to keep our worlds from breeching yours” I nodded struggling to comprehend what Ben was telling me. “Rutherio has grown angry and bitter about his banishment” Ben said. “Rutherio is determined to take you as his bride Liz, which will allow him to permanently bridge the gap between your world and ours.” “The only thing that stands in his way is me.” Ben explained, and I looked at him puzzled. “We may have only been six years Liz, but you created me out of love, and in our world that makes our marriage valid.” “Now it’s the only thing standing between us and Rutherio’s nefarious plot.” Ben said. “Will you help me Liz? Time is running out…” I nodded to him emphatically.\nBEEP. BEEP. BEEP. I rolled over to shut my alarm off and opened my eyes to see sunlight seeping through my bedroom curtains. “Woohoo! Dream within a dream!” I thought to myself.\n", "Vultric's six arms laid limp over the thin leather couch. It wasn't too comfortable. Every few seconds he reminded himself of that fact. His twelve eyes were closed, dreaming of a better time. There was a fan in the room. Every few seconds it blew Vultric's thick fur around. He hated it. \n\n\"Can we turn it off?\" He asked. \n\nHis eyes opened and he looked at a balding creature who sat across from him. The creature, Dr. Greox, didn't speak. He never spoke. Vultric ignored Greox and stood up on his six legs. It took a few strides, but he reached the fan and shut it off. Then he returned to the couch. \n\n\"As I was saying. This is the third time she's hugged him this week.\" With his eyes closed Vultric imagined Amy, the human girl whom he became familiar with over the past few years. \"You know, this all happened because of the father. Back when she had the Princess Mattress it was fine.\" \n\nVultric's situation, like many other closet creatures, was dire. The human who inhabited his room was changing. Every few years her bed changed. With a new bed, came a new neighbor. Normally the monsters under the bed were quite normal. They understood the game. You wait for the lights to go out. Then you scare. There was no cuddling, no hugs, no friendship with the human. But this guy. This big hunk of fur wasn't scary. No. He was deemed \"Adoreable.\" \n\nVultric sat up on his couch. \n\n\"I should kill him.\" Vultric though to himself. It truly was the only way. \n\nSuddenly Vultric stood up. He left the couch and exited the room. He was back in his home. Fresh human clothes brushed against his unwelcoming fur as he crept through the corridors of the closet. Finally he was at the door. He pushed it open ever so slightly. \n\nVultric moved out of his home and into the battlefield. The only sentry, a fairy nightlight stood guard near the bed. He crawled forward along the carpet. Toys scattered and blocked his way, so he mere climbed over them. Then he was where he needed to be. The entrance to the bed. He snuck under some sheets that hid that creature. \n\nThe covers touched his fur as he entered his enemies fortress. He was there. Standing in front of him, next to a snickers candy wrapper. Quickly Vultric launched himself at his enemy. With his twin fangs he sank himself into his enemies back. It was all going according to plan. Then that creature pushed Vultric up against the bed. Smack! The bed moved. Yet still Vultric's bite held firm. \n\n\"Amy!\" A voice broke the trance of battle. Footsteps came racing across the hallway floor. The door opened and the lights flickered on. The footsteps became louder as something approached the bed. Suddenly the covered were whisked up and Amy looked directly into her fathers face. \"Hunny it's bed time.\" He said. \n\nAmy groaned and dropped her toys. She crawled out from under the bed and brushed off the dust that was on her pajamas. Then she leaped into bed and dragged the covers over her. Her father leaned in and kissed her goodnight. \n\n\"Go to sleep.\" He said closing the door. \n\n\"Fine.\" She fired back. \n\nAmy's eyes closed and darkness once again came upon the room. The only light came from the fairy nightlight. Under the bed though, the battle had been decided. Vultric released his fangs from the other monster and crawled out from under the bed. Then he returned to his closet victorious. ", "Cathy was at home, annoyed that her husband was working late. My colleagues were still at work, annoyed that I was at home with my wife.\nSarah was in bed, annoyed by the sound of a car pulling into her driveway. I was annoyed by the sudden naked dash from the bed to Sarah's wardrobe.\n\nIn the darkness behind the closed doors, I wondered what sort of monster was I to give in to my passions so easily? Discovery would cause so much pain to Cathy, and to Robert, a cuckold husband.\n\n\"Tommy!\" gasped Sarah, \"you should have knocked!\" I heard a deep voice laugh. \"I saw the light on, and I knew Robert was at the conference, so I wanted to surprise you.\" \n\nI couldn't believe what I was hearing! The two-timing...no make that triple-timing bitch. Soon the sounds of their passion were mixed with the squeaking bedsprings. And Tommy, of all people. The monster was Robert's best friend.\n\nThen the unmistakable voice of Jeremy, the neighbor, came from beyond the curtains. \"Sarah, babe, I'm coming in.\" It was hard to discern which sounds were Jeremy clambering through the window and which were Robert scrambling under the bed.\n\nI knew I was bad, but I now realized Sarah was the real monster.\n\n \n\n" ]	4
You can freely interpret this as an insane surreal joyride, or subvert it in the most horrifying way how. Anything goes, good luck!	[WP] "Get in the car," they said. "It's going to be a fun ride" they said.	[ "\"Get in the car,\" they said. \"It's going to be a fun ride,\" they said.\n\nWe were going out into the desert, which sounded like fun. We were in a 2006 Subaru Impreza WRX. 4WD and really quick. We roared down the road and then swerved off into the desert.\n\nWe went over a sand dune and got a serious amount of air. Out of the back window I saw two black SUVs parked facing towards us, with a small group of people by them. I didn't think much of it and stayed quiet. We heard a clunk, almost like a splutter. I asked John, who was driving, \n\n\"What was that?\"\n\nno response\n\n\"John?\"\n\nno response\n\nBob, who was sitting in one of the back seats whimpered,\n\"Uhm, there's a bullet hole in the rear windscreen.\"\nI looked behind and saw the hole. It was right behind John's head. I checked and noticed a tiny spurt of blood coming from it. The bullet must of passed into his skull but not quite come out the other end.\n\n\n\"Uhm, Bob. He's dead.\"\n\n\"How are we still driving?\"\n\n\"His foot's still on the pedal.\"\n\n\"You gotta be-\"\n\n\nHe looked forward and saw the hole for himself\n\n\"Oh shit\"\n\n\"Y...Yeah\"\n\n\"We need to stop the car.\"\n\n\"Wuh\"\n\n\"WE NEED TO STOP THE FUCKING CAR!\"\n\n\"Oh, yeah\"\n\n\nI reached over to pull the handbrake when Bob said quietly,\n\n\"There are SUVs following us\"\n\nMen poked their heads out of the cars' passenger windows, armed to the teeth. They opened fire and a barrage of bullets started hitting the car and everything else.\n\n\"No time to stop. Sorry John\"\n\nI opened the door and kicked his body out, replacing him with me. I then closed the door and gunned the engine. We had an advantage, the Subaru was quicker than their SUVs but it was sand, so there was less grip. If we could get onto a road, we'd be fine.\n\n\"Keep your head down, Bob\"\n\n\"NAH! I THOUGHT I'D LET EM SHOOT ME!\"\n\n\"Sarcasm really doesn't suit you. especially at a time like this.\"\n\n\"JUST DRIVE!\"\n\n\"Do you have a gun?\"\n\n\"John did.\"\n\n\"Well that's just great isn't it?\"\n\n\"He kept in the glove box while driving.\"\n\n\nI opened the glove box and threw the gun backwards.\n\n\"Shoot them.\"\n\nBob started firing at the SUVs. It was like watching a 3 year old try to fly an RC plane. He couldn't control it for toffee.\n\n\"Bob, you couldn't hit the broad side of a barn door with that thing.\"\n\n\"Well, I'm trying!\"\n\n\"Give me the damn gun\"\n\n\nHe passed it to me. I pulled the handbrake, flicked it into reverse and started shooting. I held the gun out the window, aiming for the drivers.\n\n\"Don't they need to reload?\"\n\n\"It's a story, Bob, they only need to reload when the story calls for it.\"\n\n\"Damn it.\"\n\n\nI continued shooting until the gun ran dry. I checked the glovebox for spare mags.\nOne. Great.\n\nI saw a road in the distance. Being as though we didn't want to let them get away, I told Bob to get their Reg Plates. We got onto the road and the Soobs roared away. We took a sharp corner and stopped at the side of the road. There was a dune in the way so anyone driving towards us wouldn't be able to see us. We got out and waited for them to come past. They came down the road.\n\n\nI took the driver of the first vehicle. Causing the second to ram into the first. They both ground to a halt. The guys inside the cars were a little dazed by the incident, I killed every single one. Mercilessly gunning them down for what they had done.\n\nIn the moment I felt no emotion. No remorse. No guilt. Just anger. Fury. Inconsolable rage that I vented on these people. I didn't make it fast either. Shot to the heart, let them bleed out.\n\n\nWe went back to the desert and traced the tyre marks, found John's body. His skin was ripped. Torn everywhere. We loaded him into the back of the bullet hole filled subaru and went back to the SUVs and called the police.\n\nIt then hit me what I had done. I'd taken 8 lives. These people could have had families, families I could have destroyed. And John, we'd never see him again. He was dead, my good friend. Gone forever.\n\nAfter an hour, the police turned up. We had lain John on the street with a blanket on him, his bullet ridden Subaru by him.\n\nThe police informed us that we had taken out a notorious Gang. This helped to ease the pain, knowing that these people had more than likely ruined many people's lives, they said we could go. But we waited until the ambulance crews arrived, and followed John's back to the morgue...\n\n\n\n\"I'm really sorry\"\n\n\"No, it's ok, it wasn't your fault.\"\n\n\"Yeah, and they got what they deserved.\"\n\n\"I'm glad you see it that way. I'm really sorry, he was a good friend.\"\n\n\"And our son\"\n\n\"Yeah. Thanks for the coffee.\"\n\n\"You're more than welcome.\"\n\nI walked outside, past the bullet riddled subaru, past John's parents' car and out into the street, when a black, suspicious looking SUV rolled past...\n\n\nEdit: Spacing", "\"Fuck what am I doing I have to be at work by 5:00?\"\n\nit was 11 p.m. on a Tuesday and just like my girlfriend loves to point out i can't say know to the guys. I like friends okay. I love booze okay. If someone wants to hangout with me I'll be there okay. That's who i am. I'm the friend. I'm the guy you can call after you called everyone else in the fucking world and got no's and I'll be damned if i don't show up every god damned time! But tomorrow is gonna suck...\n\nI run a coiled tubing unit. I drill. I help oil wells that got fucked up become un-fucked up and i work damn hard to do it. I always have. People laugh... they make jokes.. they notice my carefree don't give a fuck attitude and they assume my life is easy... these idiots don't knwo i spend every fucking waking moment working towards the life I've secured and the life i want...\n\n\"Elat! pass another beer you jag!\"\n\n\"fuck man you're driving are you sure?\"\n\n\"yeah dude, you've seen me do this we'll be fine...\"\n\n\"alright man, but I'm driving us the fuck home you already have a Duey (DUI)\"\n\nI crack my beer\n\nHonestly I don't want to be in the seat of this shit ass 2001 Mitsubishi eclipse, but my old room mate can drink again and he just got a job. If i was in his shoes i'd out right hate anyone who wouldn't join. I mean... we go way back. It's my duty as a god damned human being to be able to celebrate with my friends no matter how many fucking hours i'm working... I can do 80 with my eyes closed and hands tied. What's a little sleep deprivation?\n\nI hear his engine start to whine and the car starts to wobble a little...\n\n\"how fast are we going?\"\n\n\"not to fast man, I've seen you do way worse in your Saab\"\n\n\"heh... alright man, but saabs are built for this shit how long have you been drinking?\"\n\n\"all day man! But I'm fine\"\n\njust at that moment the car started to wobble a little more than normal. the back tire had been going flat lately and it looked like it had finally given out. The car dropped onto it's back wheels and I could see the bright light of sparks shooting out behind us as the metal wheel scraped along the pavement... I don't remember much more about my car or the room mate... or what it feels like to walk.\n\n", "The moon was full, and there wasn't a breath of wind. I was on foot, in a neighborhood where you mind your own business, or else.\n\nI heard the screech of tires on pavement, and I looked behind me to see an all black car sliding around a turn. I didn't know what it was at the time, but something felt off to me. \n\nI turned back to face the direction I was originally headed in, threw my hood up, and started to walk faster. \n\nI could hear the dull roar of the engine, and it was getting closer. I rounded the corner out of sight and began to run. I must of ran about 5 blocks before I started to run out of breath. \n\nThere wasn't another soul around for miles, and the streets were dead quiet. Then I heard it again. The dull roar of the engine again, except it was getting louder. \n\nI started to run again. I was dead tired, but fear has a strange way of giving you that extra little boost. I was nearing the corner of next block, the sound of the engine getting louder. I had no idea what direction it was coming from and I didn't want to stick around to find out. \n\nI was nearly at the corner, still about 6 blocks from home, and then I saw it. The all black car screeched around the corner just ahead of me and came to a dead stop right in front of me. \n\nI stood there, paralyzed, wondering who this might be, what might happen. My mind was racing a mile a minute.\n\nThe passenger side window in the front came down a crack, just enough to make out what whoever inside was saying. \n\n\"Get in the car\" they said. \"It's going to be a fun ride\" they said.\n \nBut before I could respond, or even think of something to say, 2 large men in ski masks hopped out of the backseat and grabbed me by each arm. \n\nI struggled like a son of a bitch trying to break free, but these men were huge. I kicked and screamed as hard as I could but it was in vain. No one heard me, and even if they did, they knew to mind their business in this neighborhood. \n\nI was getting tired of struggling as they dragged me closer to the car. Click.... the trunk had popped. \n\nAnd before I knew it, I was in there. \n\nI heard the car doors slam and the engine rev, and the car started to move. \n\nWho were these guys? Where were we headed? Why me? All of these things raced through my mind. \n\nWe must have drove for a good hour or more before I finally felt the car slow down and finally come to a halt. \nI could hear voices, faintly. They were muffled so I couldn't make out what I was hearing. I was terrified of where I was, of what might happen to me. \n\nI heard the click again as the trunk unlocked. I laid there in the trunk, completely silent, waiting. \n\nI could hear footsteps getting closer. Then, the trunk flew open and once again 2 huge men grabbed me and hauled me out. \n\nI was blindfolded right away so I never caught a glimpse of where I might be. Everything was still silent except for the mens footsteps as they dragged me.. somewhere. \n\nI prayed to God, which is a big deal for an atheist. I prayed he would get me help, get me out of this situation. I prayed that someone would do something. \n\nThen, the men stopped walking. I heard another man speak up. \n\n\"Is this him?\" The man asked. \n\n\"Yeah, boss. This is him\". \n\nWho is him? What did I do? What was so important about me? I didn't understand. I'm just a regular, everyday average Joe. What did I do?\n\nI was thrown to the floor on my hands and knees. Still blindfolded. I reached my hand up to remove my blindfold, but before my hand could get to my head I felt someone kick me square in the ribs. \n\nI buckled to the floor, flat on my stomach now, sprawled out and in pain. I groaned in agony, clutching my side.\n\nI heard footsteps get closer to me. And then I heard the voice of the man that these 2 goons were calling boss. \n\n\"Let me see your arm\" said the man, as he grabbed onto my wrist and pulled back my sleeve. \n\nThere was silence again, as I could feel his watchful eyes over me. It felt like a lifetime passed by before anything was said. \n\n\"You idiots! This is the wrong guy!\" Shouted the man, at his goons I was assuming. \n\n\"But... boss...he.. he was\"\n\nBANG. A gunshot cut off his sentence and I heard a loud thud as something heavy hit the floor next to me. Now I was absolutely terrified. \n\n\"I can't trust you fools to do anything!\" he shouted again. \"GET RID OF HIM!\" \n\nAnd with that I was scooped back up off the floor and dragged down what seemed like a long hallway. When we finally stopped, I heard the click again. And low and behold, back in the trunk I went. \n\nAnother hour of driving gone by. I had no idea who these men were, where they were taking me, or what their plan was to do with me. I knew that I had to do something. \n\nWhen the car finally stopped again, I waited in silence. I had removed my blindfold in the trunk, seeing as no one had ever thought to bound my hands. \n\nI heard the click once again. Followed by the slamming of the car door, and footsteps. Only one set this time. \n\nI waited there, patiently, until I could hear that the footsteps had stopped right by the trunk. \n\nAs soon as the trunk was opened I drew my leg back and kicked as hard as I could, and just by my luck I hit the man right in the face. \n\nCrunch. That was the sound of his nose shattering, followed by a loud groan of pain as he stumbled backward. Now this was my chance, I thought to myself.\n\nI jumped out of the trunk, and started to run again. \n\n\"Get him!\" Someone yelled.\n\nI heard the car door slam again but never looked back to see why. \n\nBang. Another gunshot echoed out into the night as I ran for a nearby alley. Bang, bang. A bullet had whizzed right by my head as I rounded the corner into the alley. \n\nI could hear yelling and footsteps following behind me, so I just kept running. \n\nWhen I finally got to the other end of the alley, I noticed a store. Hanna Bakery the sign read. I realized I was so close to the place where I had originally been abducted.\n\nI ran like the wind. 5 blocks til home, 4 blocks, 3, 2.... almost there... \n\n\"BANG\". One final gunshot rang out. The bullet pierced through my chest and I felt a burning sensation. I dropped to the ground, clutching the hole that was oozing blood. \n\nI was a block from home. And I was dying. Surely someone had heard the gunshot, but like I said before, in a neighborhood like this, I had no chance.\n\n\nThe End." ]	3
	[WP] Graffiti anywhere drifts like leaves on a pond.	[ "I sat staring blankly at the empty school yard. The swings rocked gently back and forth in the night air. The shovel in my hand felt oddly warm, almost as though it were a third arm. I walked, determined to the edge of the yard. Under a holly bush that grew into the old chain link fence, that's where they were. \nI began to dig, pausing only every one in awhile to look over my shoulder. I continuously got the feeling that someone was behind me. \nI dug until I found the first one. It came out of the loose dirt easily. A human skull. The rest of the skeleton were miles away locked in a morgue of headless john doe's by now. I dug till I found the other 5. Then, I covered the hole, put the skulls in my bag, and went home. \nHiding a body is simple, easy almost. There are millions of tons of empty dirt in places that no one will ever dig. The hard part is making sure that no one knows you hid them there. \nI was 10 years old when I saw him burry just these 6 heads in my school yard. I had snuck out of my house when my parents were in bed to go find my lost race car under the swingset. I had his when I saw him. Funny how the tables turned. I checked everywhere small inquisitive eyes could be hiding. \nI dropped the skulls off outside the postoffice. The police station was too active at night, but the post office was abandoned. And, in my small town, it was the next largest city run building. \nSuddenly I felt a sweeping guilt come over me. I had held the secret to finding the killer ever since I was 10. I had held the key to bringing justice and peace to these people. \nThat guilt went as quickly as it had come. I didn't know these people. I didn't know their killer. I only saw their heads--now shrunken and covered in filth--buried in my school yard. I was merely a passive observer. I owed them nothing. \n\"Those belong to me.\" \nI spun round, my heart nearly kept from my chest. Behind me, the figure I recognized from faint memory and vivid nightmare. \n\"I came back to collect them. But I saw you did them up. So I followed you here.\" \nI hesitated to speak. I wasn't very scared, I felt almost sick. My heart hurt inside my chest, it was a struggle to breath. \n\"You know, the secret, it drives you mad after a while. It eats away at your mind like a rat on a corpse. The guilt of their screams...that's nothing...it's the secret that makes you mad.\" \nI could see through the dark that he was smiling. \n\"That's why I'm turning these in.\" I replied.\n\"In the dead of night? Unknown? Unrecognized? No credit for your a act of brilliant heroism? You're the one person who lived to see my face.\" The killer continued to smile.\n\"There's no other way....\" I said. \nI dropped the bag of skulls on the side walk. \n\"There's going to have to be. Leave that bag, and I'll take it.\" \n\"Then I'm not leaving it.\" I said. \n\nI woke up, the sun in my face and a small crowd of people around me. I was curled up next to the bag, clutching it.\nLater that day the police showed me the security tapes of the outside of the postoffice. There was no one there but me. I was talking to an empty sidewalk. \n\n\"The secret drives you mad!\" \nThat voice rang in my head.\n\n\nThanks for reading! ", "Yesterday the large initials \"LP\" were painted on a wall down town. Today they're sprawled across two buildings and a tree. Graffiti doesn't stick to one wall in my world. It goes whichever way the wind blows it. It all eventually washes down the drains. \nI drew a picture once. It blew across my neighbors house. It was a picture of a cat coughing up a hair ball shaped like the Statue of Liberty. The neighbor was very upset. I laughed for a few weeks about it. \nBut by far the most exciting thing to ever drift across any storefront or building face or tree was the confession. \n9 words: \"I am guilty. I am sorry. I am dying.\"\nNo one knew where it came from. No one figured it out, but I knew. The whole world was buzzing, looking for answers. This massive image of twisting words in red letters had everyone trying to track down the mysterious \"confessor\". I knew. I had the answers....\n\n----\n\nIs this worth finishing? Haha. I feel like I'm just rambling to an empty auditorium at this point. . ." ]	2
Write a horror story involving a monster without describing the monster. Bonus points for atmosphere.	[WP] Hiding the monster	[ "Devil's Fork we called it. \n\nIn one of the older more developed residential areas in our town, the development was surrounded by a dried out river bed and various other drainage ditches. Some of these areas were wide and overgrown. Some even had trails that you could explore, although they were elaborate and often led to nowhere. A friend of a friend told us of a place around these trails, called Devil's fork. It was a massive concrete drainage tunnel that connected to half of the storm drains in the town. Although flooded and disgusting in the rainy season, the summer heat dried out the tunnel and made it possible to explore. Ready for an adventure, we decided to find this tunnel. \n\nOur first question for our friend was why it was called Devil's Fork. He simply told us that it would be obvious when we found it. He told us it was often frequented by taggers and drug users, but that the tunnel was completely straight and carried sound well. All we would have to do is listen for a few minutes at the entrance to know whether or not we would run into anybody there. We asked if he knew any history about the tunnel, but sadly he had nothing interesting to add besides that it was likely a bit older than the houses around it that were built in the fifties. Satisfied with that, we thanked him and got ready to go. Before we left, however, he insistently told us how scary the place was. We tried assuring him that we were experienced with creepy, and that it was why we were excited for the tunnel. He wasn't a coward though, we knew that. Chances are he had done plenty of things more intense than we ever dared. He tried explaining that everything he experienced was probably just his imagination, echos, and the darkness, but stated that something was still very off about that tunnel. He never could clarify what exactly it was that scared him, so we eventually thanked him and left. \n\nThat night we went into the tunnel. \n\nOur group was five people, more than we usually went with in one trip, as the more people you have with you the easier it is joke around and spoil the thrill. However, most of our friends were busy with other things and we didn't want to leave anyone out that night. We left around 6 pm, and the sun was still up. We explored for about half an hour until we came across a narrow clearing that ran along one of the main roads. We followed it down and we found the tunnel. It was surrounded with large stones, and looked more like a cave than a tunnel. As instructed we stood at the entrance and listened. The stench was unbearable. Although the tunnel was dry save a tiny stream of water down the middle, sewage and garbage had accumulated at the entrance. After a few minutes, we heard nothing but some small, indiscernible creaks and shuffles, but we didn't hear any footsteps or voices. Deciding it must just be road noise and rats, we decided to begin the trek into the tunnel. It was perfectly round and uniform, the gray concrete was almost comforting. It felt modern, and inert. The tunnel was about 5'6'' in diameter, so we had to crouch just slightly as we made our way through. It was fun at first. We started to come across some graffiti, mostly lighthearted artwork celebrating 420, and a surprising number of fruits wearing sunglasses and smoking joints. As we progressed we realized that tunnel must have been slightly curved, as it got much darker, and the light at the entrance seemed to grow smaller at a rate that was much quicker than one would expect from only traveling such a short distance. That is when we realized that none of us had brought a headlamp or significant source of light. Back then our phones didn't have flashlights, so all we had were the brightness of the screens. I had a tiny led flashlight that required you to constantly push the button to keep it on. The button had broken off, but I rolled up a dollar bill and jammed it into the hole where the button had been, and this allowed the light to stay on, but it was difficult to keep it on. On top of that, I had my zippo. I didn't really smoke then, but it made me feel like Indiana Jones so I always carried the damn thing around. After gathering what light we had, we pressed on. Looking back I wish we had gone back for some better flashlights. \n\nAs we continued the graffiti started to depict darker subject matter. We assumed that people on acid must had drawn them. They were reminiscent of scenes from Alice in Wonderland. There were strange distorted creatures, although I have since forgotten what most of the paintings depicted. One that I do remember in particular was a snake that someone had painted all around the tunnel in a helix pattern. The spiral must have traveled ten feet of the tunnel and ended with the snakes head, that the artist had drawn decapitated with a meat cleaver. At this point we noted that the light at the end of the tunnel was gone, although our phones showed that sunset hadn't happened yet. That is when the terror started to sink in. On either side of the tunnel our lights faded into pitch black, and we were surrounded by these creepy images. I felt trapped and claustrophobic, and the tunnel seemed to get smaller. We continued on anyways, determined to get to the end. At this point we were curious to see how far the tunnel went, and jogged down the tunnel, making as much progress as we could and ignoring the increasingly disturbing artwork. After about half a mile, were were relieved to see that there were areas in the tunnel that opened up with small enclosures on the side. These contained a small ladder that led to an angled shelf about 10 feet above the tunnel ground. From there we could see out of some storm drains and also noted that it was still day out. Again we pressed on more cautiously, towards the end of the tunnel. At this point my led light would not stay on. I strained my hand, jamming the dollar as hard as I could into the hole, but I couldn't keep it on for more than a minute or two at a time. I eventually gave up and pulled out my zippo. The flames were eerie in the dark tunnel, and the flame forced us to move more slowly as to keep it lit. At this point we started to look closer at the graffiti farther down. It was terrifying. The graffiti was no longer strange, it was downright disturbing. Pentagrams lined the tunnel walls. There were animals devouring each other. There were drawings of zombies and skeletons and demons. Sick looking creatures with goat legs and fangs. We didn't feel any sort of satanic presence or ominous doom, but we all agreed that whoever made these paintings were fucked in the head. Finally the tunnel opened up to a large rectangular room. There was a pool of foulness on the floor of the room, and we all gagged on the intense smell of vomit and sewage. On the other side of the room there were three tunnels equally distanced apart, just big enough that someone could crawl through. Above the middle tunnel was a pentagram, and the crudely painted words \"Devil's Fork\" with a pitchfork drawn at the end. A long tunnel with three \"prongs\" at the end. We had literally walked through a hollowed out pitchfork. Not wanting to walk through the sewage, and frankly having been scared enough, we decided not to cross the room to inspect the smaller tunnels. In retrospect, I think this was the best decision we made on our quest. We turned back feeling relieved. \n\nAs we began walking back, we started to hear strange noises, like something splashing in water. Thinking maybe someone had entered the tunnel after us, we lowered our voices to a whisper and prepared for an awkward encounter with unknown strangers. We had numbers on our side, so we figured if it came to a fight we would be okay. Then the noises grew louder and more startling. It was as if someone was picking up rocks from the ground and flinging them down the length of the tunnel. We had done this too on our way in, so we figured it just had to be someone else exploring the cave. That's when we came to the first storm drain on our way back. We could just make out the bright blue sky and a streetlight pole as we peaked by. That when we heard it. The silence was pierced by what sounded like a little girl shrieking and we made out the words, \"Help! What is it!!??\" I was taking up the rear of the group. Someone yelled, \"Holy FUCK!!,\" and the next thing I know we were booking it down the tunnel. Just as I ran pass the storm drain I caught a glimpse of an image that seems to change every time i try to imagine it. I was scared, and odds are the unfamiliar shapes and shadows in that tiny instance were conceived by my brain to be something else. But I could have sworn I saw vines. Lots of them, crawling up the walls of the opening to the edge of the storm drain's grate. And in the middle I saw something. I couldn't tell if it was human, animal, or even a plant, but I saw something. Whatever it was, the girls screams were enough to send me on my way. We ran as fast as we could, careless as to whether we scraped our heads on the top of the tunnel, or that we could have easily slipped on the slick ground and tripped over each other. The tunnel's echos made it sound as if there were footsteps behind us. It sounded as if dozens of people were running in those tunnels, not just five. Echos or not, maybe it was because I was in the very back, but I couldn't help but to feel like were being chased. Finally we reached the opening. We flew out and dove onto the ground in the clearing, and then we turned our attention to the tunnel entrance and listened. Nothing. It was dark outside, the only thing we heard was the crickets chirping in the bushes. It must have all been nerves. Whatever I thought I saw certainly did not chase us, as the tunnel was silent. But even if that thing I saw was just my fear induced imagination, we all saw the daylight from the storm drain, and we all knew the sun had set 40 minutes ago. ", "People asked me how I did it. Looked at it everyday. I just told them it was my job, someone had to investigate, but maybe I was curious too. I was the first one called in, they hoped a biologist could put these killings in some kind of context. Was it some kind of escaped specimen? Had it been forced into the area by destruction of its habitat? There had to be a way of explaining it that didn’t mean what we all were thinking.\n\nIt was overcast, when I went to examine the first body. Female, early twenties. I won’t bore you with her life story, it didn’t care and neither did I. She hadn’t been eviscerated, she’d been disassembled. Every piece looking like its own creature. By effort of will you could get your brain around the fact that this used to be a person, but the second you lost focus it just resolved into parts. This wasn’t hatred or hunger, it was more like curiosity. I think it just wanted to understand how she worked. Maybe it didn’t even realise that this would kill her, or maybe the difference between the two states wasn’t something it recognized.\n\nNo footprints, no blood (except hers), no saliva, no teeth marks (she’d seemingly just fallen apart), no trace of anything, known or unknown. Nothing wanted to record its presence. Nature shut its eyes and turned away. There was a sense of revulsion in the surroundings, the earth refused to bear the memory of the thing, rejected it like a foreign body. All that was left was the scar.\n\nIt went on like this for weeks, every few days a new body. Bodies were taken apart, inverted, changed. One man had his face removed, it wasn’t torn off, there was just nothing on the front of his skull. Another was just a translucent sack of skin. His eyes and mouth opening into the cavity of his head. I prayed we’d never find a survivor, some shambling thing, gurgling as it tried to scream, a perversion of nature that made a mockery of humanity. I’d have nightmares where I suffocated beneath the unbroken flesh of what used to be my face.\n\nThe killings stopped after a month, at first I was kept on to find an explanation. But the town was eager to forget, and my presence just reminded them of what they saw in the woods. They were afraid of the wrong thing, they feared what they remembered but it didn’t permit memories. I was afraid of what I’d forgotten, of what it showed me. If I look in the mirror I can’t hold myself together anymore, I can try for a while to see a face, belonging to a man whose name I know. But I lose focus, and I resolve into parts.\n", "\"Night comes swiftly and ambushes the unwary.\" Mothers tell their children, \"There are countless tales of the thing that lurks in the forest at night. No tale ends happily for those who do not lose their lives lose their minds.\" \n\nUnfortunately, I just happen to find myself caught in the forest at night. The flame of my lantern had flickered one final time right before the creature found me. Perhaps it was the scent of my fear that drew it near or perhaps it smelled my blood from where I clumsily scraped my arm.\n\nThe crunch of leaves and the nearly inaudible growls of that thing causes my hair to stand on end. I raise my tattered cloak and quicken my pace across the log-strewn forest. My chest tightens and my breath becomes uneven. It has drawn closer. \n\nThe enigma in the darkness dances in my peripheral vision as it taunts its prey. Whenever I turn to look at it, it vanishes, and finds its way behind me once again. Sometimes I hear a soft rhythmic grumble as if it is laughing at my misfortune.\n\nAhead, I can see the brambles that block my path to freedom. In the stories that mothers tell their children, the brambles are the snares that it uses to trap it's dinner. Have I been herded to my own demise?\n\nI step in something warm and slimy. Is it the creature's saliva or is this the remnants of a fresh kill? I am thankful that I cannot see what lies on the forest floor. \n\nA loud thump jars the ground. Hot, putrid breath tickles the back of my neck and assaults my senses. I lurch forward out of fear and find myself falling into the brambles before me. \n\nI tear away from the thorns, ripping both my flesh and my clothing, and ignore pain. I hear rustling above me as I desperately fight against the relentless thorns. A thick glob of saliva lands in my forest-infested hair. \n\nI fall forward into the brambles and a great pressure now rests on my back. It has gripped my legs and is pulling me back into the forest. I claw at the thorns in vain, knowing full well that my life will soon come to an end. \n\nI can only pray that it kills me quickly." ]	3
	[WP] Three men are sat down in a room looking at a revolver, what happens next..	[ "\n\nThe two men sat on the couch, silent and stoic. Christian knelt before the table in front of them. \nHe bowed his head and whimpered quietly. Beads of cold sweat raced down his skin and drenched his shirt. \nThe polished steel of the revolver glinted in the sliver of light that transected the apartment. Coke covered \nthe tabletop like snow. Christians cries echoed through his empty apartment. The men look at him with \npitiless eyes.\n\n\"Either you do it or we will.\"\n\nChristian looked up at them. He shook his head and began to sob. The frail man crumpled to the floor \nand cried helplessly. The two men stood up, their faces still expressionless. One picked up the revolver \nfrom the table. He shook it gingerly. The dust of powder drifted down to the linoleum. He advanced toward \nChristian as the other looked on. He reached inside his jacket and took out a small not. He placed the note \non top of the table. The click of the hammer echoed in Christian's left ear. \n\n\n\"I didn't mean to, i swear to God,\" Christian choked through his cries. \"It was an accident, you can't \nfucking kill me for a stupid fucking accident\"\n\n\n\"I don't know what you're talking about. You killed yourself. Out of guilt. You poor tortured soul.\" \nThe man smiled at Christian and laughed. \n\n\nHe pressed the gun against Christian's temple and fired. With a loud crack his life ended. Christian's \nbody fell limp to the floor. Blood spurted from his temple but waned quickly like the last bit of life was \nleaving his body. The man put the gun in Christian's hand and pressed his fingers against the surface. \nBlood began to pool and wash over the tiny white specks on the floor. The two left the apartment without \nanother word.", "\"What kind of a sick game is this?\" Tony said scooting his chair away from the table and standing up. He walked over to what he knew to be a one-way mirror and yelled, \"Do you hear me? What kind of sick fucks are you?\" \n\"Alright Tony. No need to get all flustered. You signed up for it just like I and this fellow to my left did.\" The man who had been sitting directly across the table from Tony said. \"I'm Mark by the way. But most of my friends call me Wade, don't ask why,\" as he said this he put his hand out in greeting toward Tony with an earnest smile. \n\"Don't tell me what to do,\" Tony spat angrily completely ignoring Marks outstretched hand. \"And how do you know my name?\" \n\"I overheard you tell one of the nurses as you were getting cleared.\" Mark said calmly. At that Tony blew air from his nose and shook his head as he turned away to face the one-way mirror again. There was a not too comfortable silence then as Tony stood as if trying to pierce the one-way mirror with his gaze and Mark sat in turn looking at Tony's back. \n\"Well...uh,\" the third man started uncomfortably. \"Well, if were introducing ourselves, my names Chet.\" He said looking in turn at Tony and Mark. \n\"Pleased to meet you Chet,\" Mark said nodding his head in Chet's direction. \"So what kind of work do you do?\" \n\"Well, I'm...well I was a plumber. But I got laid off recently which is really why I'm here. I need the money.\" \n\"Sorry to hear it.\" \n\"Yeah, well I'll get by. I always do. It just gets difficult sometimes with the wife. You know how women are,\" Chet said with a kind of shrug and half smile. \n\"No actually Chet, I don't really, why don't you tell me.\" Chet's smile vanished. \n\"Well, uh, what I mean is..\" \n\"How can you both just sit there chatting away as if there isn't a loaded revolver laying right there on the table?\" Burst Tony, now standing behind the chair he had occupied earlier, glaring at Mark. \n\"Why? What should we be doing?\" asked Mark simply. \n\"Well shit, I don't know,\" said Tony throwing his arms up in frustration. \"But shouldn't we be focusing on why were here?\" \n\"Why are we here Tony?\" \n\"Goddamn it. You and your questions! I don't know exactly why were here, some kind of experiment, but it clearly has something to do with that revolver,\" Tony said gesturing at the revolver on the table as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. \n\"That seems to be the case,\" said Mark. \"But I think the experiment is more about us than the revolver.\" \n\"What the hell does that mean?\" \n\"I mean,\" Mark said deliberately, \"that the experiment has to do with what we will do, if anything, with the revolver. Since I know that I mean to do absolutely nothing with it, I plan on ignoring it altogether and finding some way to pass the time until they let us leave. Does that sound reasonable to you Tony?\" Mark finished almost condescendingly. \n\"I suppose,\" Tony gave grudgingly, \"in that case I wish we had some cards or something.\" \n\"Yeah, I could go for some Rummy or something right now,\" added Chet. Tony looked at him as if he had just realized he was there. Chet shifted uncomfortably as if trying to escape his gaze. \n\"But since we don't,\" stated Mark, \"tell me what it is you do, Tony, and how you came about to be in this strange situation.\" \n\"Alright I'll play along,\" Tony said taking his seat again, \"I work construction.\" \n\"Tough work huh,\" said Mark. \n\"Yeah, real work, not something you would know anything about.\" \n\"It's true I don't do any real physical labor, as you might be able to tell from my not so lean physique, but some might say that what I do is just as difficult.\" \n\"Oh yeah, and whats that?\" \n\"I'm a writer.\" \nTony blew air through his lips wetly and in disbelief. \"Who ever said that being a writer is anywhere near as difficult or taxing as working your ass off in the hot sun all day had a screw loose. You sit in a fucking chair all day and type stuff you think sounds good.\" \n\"Well sure, on the face of it that is what I do. But whats difficult about it is, day after day, working through your own harsh critique to craft something that is true to you and you think might just be true in some other way as well. Then once you have it down you have to put it out there for everyone else to shoot down.\" \n\"I can't believe your really still going with this. You really think writing is as difficult as building a fucking house? Well then I can't do it. I'm done.\" Tony smacked his hands on the table for emphasis as he stood to go lean on the wall by himself. The next while was spent with Chet talking and Mark listening. With mark only saying a word here or there just to keep Chet talking and keep the time passing. All while Tony alternated between leaning on the wall lost in his own thought and pacing back and forth in growing frustration. The gun lay motionless taunting them all. \n\"Alright that's it fuck this!\" Tony said running to the table and snatching the revolver from it. Chet and Mark both leapt back hands in the air. There was no time for them to do anything else. bang... \n\"What in the hell do you think you are doing?\" yelled Mark. \"You could have killed someone. If that window hadn't been bullet proof you could have hit whoever was on the other side or it could have ricochet and hit one of us!\" \n\"Yeah, well it didn't do either of those things now did it? There, the bullet is stuck in the wall over there. I aimed it so, if it did ricochet, it wouldn't hit either of you and if it had gone through and hit one of them, well then it would serve them right for doing experiments on people like this. Putting us in a room to see if we shoot each other. What kind of scientists are these. What are we in Nazi Germany?\" \n\"Well alright you've proved your point. You have probably scared them enough, they will come get us out now. So will you put the gun down please?\" \n\"Yeah, can you please put the gun down,\" chimed in Chet. \n \nAlright this is getting a bit long. I'll just post what I have now and if someone wants me to finish it later I will.", "Smoke rose from the ashtray like a ghost.\n \nMy .38 calibur snub-nose spun on the middle of the table like a roulette wheel with Boss Carmine playing the role of a dealer. Officer Clarke and I sat with hands tied behind our backs, with only our lives to place as bets. \n\nThe last thing I remember was being down at the shipyard. Clarke and I had been chasing a lead on a crooked cop. Somebody in Brooklyn’s finest was selling information to the mob, and we were gonna find out who. \n\nAs things turned out, our big lead brought us straight into an ambush. \n\nI remember taking cover, I remember a firefight, a clunk to the head… then everything went black. \nAnd now, here I am, tied up in the penthouse of Boss Carmine, the big-bad wolf of the big apple. \n\n“Detective Rogers…” spat Carmine. “As I understand it, you've put a lot of my boys behind bars.”\n\n“Aside from the ones I killed tonight...” (Being tied up never stopped me from being a smart ass.)\n\nI took a look over at Clarke, he seemed pretty calm, given the circumstances. I was surprised someone so new to the force wouldn't be more shaken up. \n\n“Your mouth exceeds your reputation.” continued Carmine. “If I was in your shoes, I’d be showing more respect. You’ll answer for what you've done to this family…”\n\n'Here comes the monologue...' I thought to myself. 'These fat pricks always love to hear themselves talk.'\n\nIt didn't matter. Carmine’s speech would only give me time to assess the situation:\n\nThree men... one room… one gun. A window to the left, a door behind me. It’s safe to assume there’s ten to fifteen armed thugs waiting outside. I knew I’d killed four of Boss Carmine’s men tonight, one with two shots. That meant there was only one round left in the chamber.\n \n“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen now,” Carmine’s rant had culminated into its crescendo. “Being a man of respect, I’m gonna give you the chance to walk outta here. All you gotta do is take your gun and shoot officer Clarke here.”\n\n“WHAT?!” Clarke’s face dropped as he yelled in protest. “Carmine, PLEASE!!!”\n\nThe mobster rose from his chair and strutted over to me. Taking a knife from his belt, he cut me loose. \n\n“And don’t try anything funny,” Carmine pointed at me, placing the knife on the table. “I brought my own insurance.” He grabbed a shotgun from the floor and aimed it at me.\n\nClarke was shaking like a leaf at this point. And rightfully so; Carmine was one ace short of a royal flush. Little did he know, I had that ace tucked safely up my sleeve.\n \n“Not a bad plan,” I said. “You’ll have me kill Clarke, take my gun and let me go. After which, this gun will find itself into the police’s hands, I’ll get pegged for the murder and go to jail. And you’ll have two less cops trying to bring you down.”\n\n“You’re pretty smart.” chuckled Carmine.\n\n“Smarter than you think, perhaps.” I retorted.\n\nI took the gun and shot Clarke in the head. Smoke rose from the barrel like a ghost.\nThe loud bang faded into the sound of Carmine’s laughter. \n\n“I’ll admit,” he clapped “I didn’t think you had it in ya.”\n\n“I never did like a crooked cop.” I said.\n\n“Oh?” asked Carmine. \n\n“Officer Clarke was giving you information, was he not? He was your informant. But you’re more than okay with his death. He was a rookie, he was sloppy. It was too dangerous to keep him alive now. And what better way to dispose of him than having me take the fall? After all, I’m the only detective with enough dirt on you to take you down. But now that threat will be kept safely behind bars, right?”\n\n“Not bad, Rogers.” he said. “You coulda used that bullet on me and had a better chance. Now put the gun down and I’ll walk you out.”\n\nI placed the gun back on the table and leaned over. \n\n“In a moment,\" I said. \"I know something you don't know...\"\n\n“Oh? And what’s that?” inquired Carmine. \n\n“How to throw a knife.”\n\nI grabbed the knife from the table and ducked. Carmine fired a shot straight over my head. \nI threw, and the blade found a home in Carmine’s throat. A steady flow of red pooled on the table top as he keeled over, breathing his last. \n\nI walked over and opened the window. \n\nI don’t know why he thought I’d have to use the door. \n", "\"dude im so high right now\" said Johnny, the 20 year old delivery boy.\n\"Ya, man me to\" said Paul, his unemployed friend.\n\"That thing is so cool, i love how it looks\" replied George, the unimportant friend who had diarrhea the day before.\n\n\"Should we use it?\" asked Johnny, with a spaced out look on his face.\n\"I duno man, is it safe?\" questioned George cautiously.\n\"Maybe we should just stare at it a little longer, see what happens\" said paul slowly.\n\nJust then two policeman came in through the revolving door that the three stoners were perched around and arrested them. \n\n", "\"I know we talked about how we were going to do this,\" the haggard old man said, shifting in his chair nervously. His eyes darted from the revolver laying on the table he was at to the two men sitting across from him. The color drained from their faces as their eyes locked. \"But, there... there are only two bullets left in the revolver.\"\n\n\"So I think it's only fair that as Captain I take the pistol and-\" The old man grabbed the revolver and, as the other two men jumped up in protest, fired one round into each of their heads, killing them instantly. The old man laid the revolver down on the table as his two crew members fell limply into their seats.\n\nHe stood up and walked to the window of his space ship, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. The stars appeared as nothing but a blur to him as his lifeless ship careened towards the massive sun of the solar system he was patrolling.\n\n\"At least I was able to save you two from what fate has in store for me...\"\n\nHe lit his cigarette as the hull plating from the nose of his ship liquefied from the devastating heat.\n\n(This is my first time writing for something like this plus I've been up all night so don't be too hard :) )", "When I stared down at the revolver, I didn't see a gun. A gun is just a mechanism. Little bits of metal shaped to perform a set of functions in concert, to achieve a desired effect. Parts. Just so many parts. To refer to what I saw as a \"gun\" is to reduce it to a material object, a possession, a mere physical thing. No, what I saw was a means to an end. What I saw was the one thing that could right so many of the wrongs that the cosmos never cared to fix. What I saw was redemption. What I saw was an escape.\n\nIt sat on a small wooden coffee table, waiting for someone to reach out and take it, beckoning me and the two friends that shared a couch with me. To my left was Jules, his face covered in the unkempt beginnings of a beard, his hair long and greasy, his clothes stained with sweat accumulated over the last couple of days. To my right was Mary, whose empty hazel eyes were bloodshot and framed by dark, blue-tinged circles that stood out against her pallor. The two of them were staring at the same entity that I was, and seeing the same things that I was. We all knew what we had to do, but we couldn't quite manage it.\n\nIt was Mary that broke the stalemate between our obligation and our collective hesitation. She reached out, slowly, as if pulling against the enormous weight of the remaining shards of her instinct of self-preservation, and grasped the revolver in her shaking hand. She pulled it back toward her, and jerked her arm up, jabbing the barrel under her chin. As her finger tightened on the trigger, she whispered two words: \"I'm sorry.\"\n\nWe knew that the gunshot would be loud enough to alert everyone in the surrounding apartments, but we didn't expect it to be so deafening. Her head didn't jerk back dramatically, her body didn't twitch and spasm as she died, and blood didn't spray out of the top of her head because the shot didn't penetrate all the way through. She was dead in a single, anti-climactic, horrible instant, slumping forward and collapsing onto the floor in a heap. The clock was started, the neighbors were almost certainly alerted, but somehow, I couldn't bring myself to act just yet. I had to watch her fall, and only when gravity crumpled her corpse between the couch and the table could I take my turn.\n\nI checked the floor for the gun, and didn't see it; it had fallen out of her hand and onto the couch as she died. I reached over and gingerly, I picked up the courier of my redemption and I held it in my hand. I wanted to press it against my temple, but the three of us had agreed not to do it that way. We planned this out. We got some fake IDs and rented the apartment above us. We'd put the gun under our chins, fire up, and if the shot was a through-and-through, there'd be nobody above us to get hurt. Only three people were supposed to die tonight, so I held the gun to my chin, and as I did, I felt the memories rush forward.\n\nWe were at a restaurant, drunk and having a damn good time, talking about all kinds of stupid bullshit -- TV, sports, movies. Between conversations, I was ogling the waitress's rack -- I was drunk -- and Jules and Mary were checking out guys seated at other tables. It wasn't long before we realized that we were drinking a little more than we'd planned, and we didn't bring enough cash for a cab ride home. I thought I could drive us all home. Mary tried to argue, but with the state she was in, it wasn't hard to convince her to go along with it.\n\nMinutes later, we're driving through the moonlight, singing along to the songs on the radio, carrying on, and paying attention to just about everything but the road. We round a bend a little too quick and swerve into the oncoming lane just in time for me to get a good look at the driver's face. Male, twenty-something, good-looking with glasses, looking panicked as he clutched the wheel of his yellow-orange hatchback. I tried to swerve back out of the way, but it was too late. We shook off the impact, climbed out of our crumpled car, and took a look. There wasn't much left of the kid's hatchback or his face.\n\nMary was the one who checked his ID. Jules was the one who convinced us to call 911, but not to stick around. We got back to our apartment without incident, and when we woke up the next morning, we knew what we had to do. We all chose our fate, and we all knew what we had to do, but Mary was the first one to say it. I knew I had to pay for driving drunk. Mary knew she had to pay for failing to stop me. Jules knew he had to pay for turning it into a hit-and-run. A man was dead, and we resolved to join him.\n\nI snapped back to the present -- to the barrel pressed against my jaw, to the corpse of a friend resting against my foot, and the breaths of the man who will be the last to die. I stared ahead, directly into the camera, and said, \"So am I,\" as I pulled the tri", "Three men. One revolver.\n\nNo one reached for the gun. \n\n\"So\" said one \n\n\"So\" said the other \n\n\"So\" said the third \n\nThey stared at the gun. Death in another form. No one wanted to shake hands with him. But Death wouldn't allow that. Someone had to give him life. they had worn out their excuses, arguments and rationalizations. There was nothing more left to be said. All that was left was for the executioner to be chosen. \n\n\"One man, one death\" intoned the one, he reached and shook deaths hand.\n\"One death\" the other intoned\n\nThe choice had been made. There was no turning back. They all stood and nodded as one. Their cloaks hiding the tears for their brother. He would be remembered. \n\nThe executioner turned his back and walked out of the chamber. He shed no tears. It was forbidden for him to show weakness. His pain was silent. The shadow helped to hide his face. \n\nThe stairs which led downstairs were huge and winding. Their signaled\nhis death. Slowly and carefully he made his way down the stairs, making sure to avoid the final step. He avoided the guard with ease.He was small and he had adequate cover to make his way into the kitchen. His target was there. Arrogant in her ways. Words were her weapon. \n\nSlowly he raised the revolver and fired the first shot. His target shrieked in rage. Panic shook his entire body. The gun becoming more unstable as he continued firing, the target becoming more enraged as he continued his barrage. \n\n\"Tommy you little shit!\" Samantha screamed \"I am going to kill you\"\n\nTommy smiled \"I am ready for that\" Then he ran away with Samantha right behind him. \n\n\n\n\n", "\"We could you know. Just aim at him, pull the trigger... just like callahduty man.\" came Ryan's hoarse but young voice.\n\n\"I know, it'd be a brief reprieve. Like stabbing a blister. You know shit's gonna come after you, but you don't care, he's off our backs for a while.\" came Carl's ratty, barely-out-of-teens Italian-American squeak.\n\n\"How many shots you got in that thing, man?\" came the last man - Trey -the youngest of the three and most recognizable - through his love of Guy Ritchie movies he'd earnt himself an East End drawl.\n\n\"2. One for the dude and one if we get scared, he said. I'd rather put one in his head, and one in his brain, if you know what I mean.\"\n\nCarl came off the pipe, and hoarsely announced\n\"Ey dontcha watch South Park? Ya don't shoot a guy in the dick Rai!\"\n\nTrey piped up, unfazed by Carl's interjection: \"You know what kinda gun that is?\"\n\n\"He says it's a Taurus Judge.\"\n\n\"Oh man, that sounds epic.\"\n\n\"So which one of us should do it then? I vote Carl.\"\n\n\"No way man, I got a wife.\"\n\n\"Yeah, and you look like every other two-bit criminal in this town. You got camouflage man.\"\n\n\"Man, this is some Jesse Pinkman shit... what about me?\"\n\n\"You Trey? 'Officer, I didn't see much of him, but he was black and sounded half like Michael fucking Caine.' No, Trey, the last guy we need is someone with character. Someone like chalkboard here who's as blank as a slate.\"\n\n\"Naw naw mate, you got it all wrong. I just go in there, put it to 'is 'ead, press the trigger, n'its done. No need for words mate, just action. Specifically double-action.\"\n\n\"Whaddya mean, double-action?\"\n\n\"Ain't the Judge a double-action? At least it says so on Wikipedia\"\n\n\"Ugh, well, if you think you can shoot it, show me.\"\n\n\"Can't be too 'ard. Just, let's not fire now, turn the barrel so the shot's out of the way...\"\n\nTrey set his shaky aim on the plates in the distance. With his arm outstretched, he pulled the trigger - the barrel clicked and nothing happened.\n\n\"There, see? Simpou, innit.\"", "“Muy barato, si, my friends?”\n\nThe Mexican’s stained, chipped teeth gleam from beneath a long, thin mustache. Every once in a while, a nervous tongue flicks out amidst the gaps of his quivering smile.\n\nOne of the travelers, the one with the mud-stained duster eases back in his chair. The chair creaks in three different places. He swirls saliva in his mouth.\n\n“Let me ask you something, amigo,” he says. “Now let me ask you somethin’, and I want you to think good and hard ‘fore you answer.”\n\nThe Mexican nods slowly.\n\n“The fuck means no to you, huh? Did you hear me utter the word si, just now?” The traveler turns to his companions. “How ‘bout it boys? One ‘o you hear me say, ‘sure you dirty spic, I’d love to take a gander at your piece-of-shit little Colt right there,’?”\n\nThe traveler sitting across the table from the first frowns and shakes his head.\n\n“I reckon I didn’t, Billy Bob,” he says.\n\nBilly Bob turns to his companion seated in the middle of the table.\n\n“What about you Trevor?”\n\nTrevor twitches his head to the left and hawks a glob of phlegm into a spittoon by the Mexican’s feet. Billy Bob guffaws at that.\n\n“See, amigo? Now, when you approached us outside and told us you had some merchandise for us, I ‘spected somethin’ a ‘mite more impressive than an ancient little Colt,” he says. “Being the tolerant men ‘o God that me, Trevor and Johnny-Lee here are, I thought we’d see what you’d have to offer. Nows I’m thinking that I might just blow your head off ‘fore I go my merry way.”\n\n“No… Por favor no… Tengo esposa e hijos, ¡ay Dios!”\n\n“Then I reckon you either show us something worth our while or skidadle ‘fore I come to my senses.”\n\n“C’mon Billy Bob, I hadn’t a good killing since ‘fore Tuesday,” Johnny-Lee says, leaning forward and resting a pair of bony elbows on the table. “I got me hankerin’ for Mexican.”\n\n“Now, now Johnny-Lee. Remember what the good book says: 'seven times seventy,'” Billy Bob says. He pauses and raises an eyebrow. “Course, Mexicans don’t know math, so I’m figuring once is enough for our amigo here.”\n\n“No, please. I have the thing para ustedes,” the Mexican says, rushing off into the back. The three travelers are momentarily left alone.\n\n“Don’t know why the fuck you thought La Culebra of all places’d be a good place to wait out the heat. Place is in the middle of bumfuck nowhere,” says Trevor. Lugubrious and laconic, the old man speaks through lips hidden by a drooping handlebar mustache.\n\n“Are you kiddin’ me? Sure, we’re the only gringos ‘round these parts, but the people here are scared stiffer ‘n the Devil on Sunday of us. Ain’t nobody gonna sic the law on us here. A fellow can do whatever he likes,” says Billy Bob.\n\n“Yeah, exactly!”\n\n“Shut the fuck up Johnny,” says Trevor.\n\nThe Mexican returns with a strongbox made of solid oak in between his hands.\n\n“Esto era para otro cliente, pero semejantes piezas solo son para caballeros como ustedes.”\n\n“Quit yer’ prattlin’,” Billy Bob says. “Whatcha got there?”\n\nThe Mexican fiddles with the box’s cast-iron lock. The lid sports an insignia that has been branded into the wood: U.S. ARMY.\n\nWith nary a squeak, the lid smoothly swivels open.\n\nBilly Bob offers a low whistle.\n\n“Now that’s what I call merchandise. We’ll take ‘em.”\n\n“Serían catorce dolares, señor.”\n\n“Just a minute, amigo,” says Billy Bob. He reaches into the box and pulls out heavy, gleaming iron: a dragoon pistol. Clucking in admiration, he lovingly thumbs the supple wooden grip and then snaps open the revolver’s cylinder. Six .44 caliber lead balls dully glint in the dusty afternoon light.\n\nBilly Bob snaps the cylinder shut.\n\n“I never said we’d pay for 'em,” he says, leveling the weapon at the Mexican's face. The revolver roars in his hand.\n", "\"... And this was my grandfather's.\" He pulled out the last box and set it on the table in front of them. It was an ornate wooden box that smelled of rich mahogany. It was clearly very old as most of the original carvings had been worn away over the decades. There were remnants of what looked like trees, perhaps some smoke clouds as well. The only engravings that remained clear were the intials \"JPR\" etched on the bottom left, presumably standing for the original owner.\n\nInside the box was an old revolver. The handle of the gun, like the box that had housed it, was worn from overuse and years of neglect thereafter. The rest of the gun had become almost entirely rust covered. The idea of taking it outside to try shooting it was unappealing at best, criminally negligent at worst. \n\nThe man and his two friends sat there looking at it. The grandson sat there with a mostly straight face, though with shades of disappointment, staring at the gun. His friend grabbed the Guinness next to the gun and took a sip. \"Neat.\" They continued watching the Browns throw away their season. ", "A collective sigh emanated from the men.\n\nOne by one they stood and pushed two rounds into the chambers until the last man placed the revolver on the table, loaded and cocked.\n\nSaid one to the other, \"I have a family you know. Back in Conneticut.\"\n\n\"We all have families, snub,\" said the other, his head in his hands, \"Don't try to get out of this. Just…man up and -\", he broke off with a catch in his voice.\n\nThe first man sat back resignedly and stared directly at the revolver with an intensity that had nothing to do with imminent gunpowder and lead. Eyes wide, it was apparent to the others that a life lived and unlived was passing before him. \n\nWith a creak, the silent third eased himself off his chair. \"Waiting will bring no joy. Let's finish this.\"\n\nThe second man sighed into his hands and looked up.\n\n\"I suppose you're right but…I can't just..\", he mumbled into silence.\n\nThe second man jerked out of his dream and stared in horror at the third, saying, \"And just how do you expect this to go? Who stays?\"\n\n\"If I do it right, no one stays. You have to trust me on this. I've done it before.\"\n\n\"You've…you've what?! How can you have! That's impossible!\"\n\n\"No,\" said the first, \"i've seen him do it. I just…didn't recognize him till now.\"\n\nThe third made no indication he heard him. \"Ready?\"\n\nThe first man trembled. The second man sighed. They each stood.\n\n\"Alright. I'll go first,\" announced the second. He stepped forward and picked up the revolver. Holding it in one hand, barrel to his temple, he fired. \n\nThe third walked round the table and extracted the revolver from the remains. Placing it on the table, he looked toward the first.\n\n\"I…I can't!\" said the first. His eyes had regained their look of horror from before. The third man could see his nerve leaving him.\n\n\"You know there's no other option,\" reminded the third.\n\nStumbling backwards, the first man appeared ready to run.\n\n\"You won't make it. No one ever has.\"\n\n\"Not like this!\" screamed the first, turning to run.Before he could complete his turn, tendrils of inky darkness whipped around his body and compressed him into the blackness. No sound was heard.\n\nThe third man stared where the first had vanished, trying to see something. Anything. Every time at least one ran. But each time he could never see what it was that took him.\n\nWell, it was for the best. There really was no other choice. \n\n\"Next time, can I please be taller? This race doesn't cater towards height and people tend to look over me. It's rather disconcerting.\"\n\nYOU WILL BE WHAT YOU ARE DECIDED TO BE a voice intoned from nowhere in particular.\n\nThe third sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot. There was no point arguing, but it made him feel more human to do it. \n\nPicking up the revolver, he spun the chamber once, then emptied it. That was the funny thing about the deal they all made. Even if you read the fine print, no one ever understood that pulling the trigger doesn't imply loading the chamber.\n\nPlacing the pistol against his own temple, he closed his eyes and breathed.\n\nWOULD YOU HURRY, THERE'S A PARTY SCHEDULED FOR FOUR.\n\nOh seriously. He pulled the trigger.", "No one had spoken for a while.\n\n\"Well I'm not getting rid of it.\" said Niall. \n\"You're the one who fucking killed him.\" Graham shot an accusatory glare across the table. \"I'm far more likely to be caught with it. Either of you two would garner far less suspicion. \" Niall said. Graham leaned forwards as if someone could hear them. \"As far as I'm concerned, I can still keep my hands clean of this. I can walk away and no one need know I was here. I don't see why we shouldn't keep things that way. It's only fair.\" \"Fair?\" exclaimed Niall, \"What's fair is everyone doing their bit.\" \"Well that's easy for you to say,\" replied Graham, \"you've seen to doing 'your bit' already. Maybe some of us don't want to damn ourselves.\" Niall ran a nervous hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair. Graham stared at the gun and then lifted his gaze upwards. \"What do you think?\"\n\nJon had sat quietly observing the exchange. He began softly, \"I don't believe any of us have disposed of a gun before.\" A communal silence confirmed this. \"So,\" he continued, \"in the event of our failure in the task, Niall's fingerprints will be found on the gun. It would be rational for him to take it and so imply nobody else.\" Niall stood up and paced the room. \"So, so I stick it in a canal? We all have a bonfire? I throw it in the garbage truck, what?\" he said. Graham was about to answer when there was a noise at the door. Niall froze. Jon adjusted himself in his seat. Graham stood up and cautiously made his way over to the door. He opened it. \n\n\"Help me.\" came the voice from the floor. \"Oh for fuck's sake.\" said Graham turning to look at Niall. \"Hey, I'm not killing him again.\" said Niall. After a moment's unsure silence, Jon reached for the revolver.", "The large man, the one named Peter, reached for the revolver.\n\n\"Get out of the way, Eric. It's time he got what he deserved.\"\n\nEric stood hurriedly, arms outstretched. \"Don't do it, Pete! He didn't know any better!\"\n\nPeter shook his head. \"He doesn't get a second chance, Eric. Some things can't be forgiven.\"\n\n\"He's just a boy, for God's sake!\"\n\n\"He should have known better.\"\n\nHe swung the gun at the boy who stared back, wild-eyed. \"I'm sorry, O.P., but I have to. Next time, don't have errors in the prompt.\"\n\nHe pulled the trigger." ]	13
	[WP] Tomorrow your memory will be erased	[ "“Ring ring” the message alert tone woke me up from my afternoon nap. I have been working all night through this morning and this is the only time I was supposed to sleep. Thank god, this didn’t wake my little princess. I blamed myself for not putting my mobile on silent mode. I took my phone and opened the message. \n“You are selected for Project Z, report at the headquarters at 10:00 AM tomorrow”. \nI jumped up from my couch. My heart started beating faster. My chest was heavy and my hands started trembling. I sat down, closed my eyes and tried to comprehend the things. \nIt is a life changing scenario. I never thought this will happen to me. I am being selected as a spy to work against my own people. They will wipe out my memories and instill their programmed memories in my head for the rest of my life. I had heard about this scheme from different social websites, but never thought this one would happen to me.\n \nI tried to imagine what would happen the next day. They have specialized instruments to wipe out my memories and reconfigure the brain cells to have an entirely different memories. The whole process might take less than 30 minutes, but will make me forget my 30 years of life. I will not remember who my parents are or with whom I spent my college days. I will not be remembering my wife or my playful daughter. Instead, I will be fed with their programmed memories- filled with hatred against my own people. I will be more like a machine than a human being from tomorrow onwards. \n\nI can’t imagine why I have been selected for this- I was never part of any activities against the government openly. I never showed up for the employees’ protest last month demanding the minimum pay of 1$ per day and less than 12 working hours per day. I have been a silent person till now- and boom- this is what you get for being a nice person. \n\nI tried calling my wife, though I knew that she doesn’t have access to personal calls until noon tomorrow. By that time, I will be in a different world. I texted her saying the situation, but I doubt whether she will ever receive it as all the calls and messages are censored. \n\nI looked at my sleeping daughter. She is just one year old and I haven’t spent enough time with her. I felt desperate. I wanted to share my feelings with someone. I wanted to tell my wife that I loved her and ask her to keep positive attitude. As I was sure that my daughter will not wake up for at least one more hour, I went out to the local market in an attempt to find some of my friends. I wandered here and there, but couldn’t find any. Of course, most of them are working or sleeping in the secured buildings, which I cannot access.\n\n As I walked past, I noticed the grocery store, which only the rich could afford. At this moment I realized that writing on a paper would be the only reliable thing to convey my feelings to my wife and friends. I went inside and grabbed a white paper and a pen and proceeded to check out. \n“Can you show me your ID please?” The clerk asked me.\n“Why?’ I was totally confused. \n“Paper and pen are restricted goods, you cannot have them without the green ID” She explained. \nI put back my red ID in my pocket. \nMy heart sank. \nI turned back and that is when I noticed the chocolate bar near the checking counter. I took it in my hands and looked at the cashier.\n“Are these restricted too?”\n“No, but they are expensive” \nI checked my ragged pockets and found my 5$ bill, my savings for the year. \nI handed the note to her “Will this be sufficient?”\n“Yes Sir, here is your balance”\nShe gave me a dollar note back to me. “Can I have a soda for this?” I turned the 1$ bill back to her.\n“No Sir, that would be 2$”\nI kept the soda bottle back. I turned my face from her and walked out of the store. \nAs I walked out, I felt a little bit relieved. And for one time in my real life, I can give some tasty food for my daughter. The bland nutritive porridge ration from the government was getting really nasty these days. \n\nIt was the ice that caused me to fall. May be I was too excited to reach home and give the chocolate to my daughter. When getting up, I noticed a thin person in ragged clothes looking at me desperately. I felt a deep calmness in his face. In a dreamy mood, I walked towards him and sat on his side. \n“How are you?” I tried to start the conversation. \nNo response from him – he just looked into my eyes with a blank expression. \n“Can I tell you one thing, I am selected from the project Z”. I was expecting a visible shock, but didn’t seen anything in his eyes. \nI continued “ You know what I mean, I am being selected to spy against my own people. I will not be the same person again”. \nHe didn’t respond. \nI stood up and was about to leave. Then he nodded me to sit down. “Never resist it” \nI didn’t understand. I gave him my remaining dollar bill to him “For your troubles”.\nHe took the note, turned it both ways, stood up and started walking away without any more words. \nI got confused – and that’s when I thought- what will happen if I mentally resist the memory transfer? Will I become insane? \n\nI reached home and found my daughter still sleeping. I looked at the clock. I have eighteen more hours. I kept the chocolate bar on my daughter’s bedside and sat near her, waiting for her to wake up. \n\n", "All I could think to do was to write reminders of all that has happened. I began to panic, it was like a whole new beginning for me, one that I refused to accept. And so it began, I wrote my name on my refrigerator, I wrote my garage code right beneath that. In the fridge I had removed everything non-essential and replaced it with photo albums and other important memories. In the process I managed to spill almost everything on the floor but I was in too big of a panic to worry. Tomorrow I would not remember anything so it was important that I do make it easy for me to be able to find everything. I made a voicemail to myself so that I may remember everything possible. \"Your name is john you are a microbiologist and you will forget all of this by tomorrow morning.\" As I went to bed I almost forgot something very important, something that had changed my life. I sprinted and put it with my photo albums when I slipped on all the juices that had been spilt. The last thing remember is hitting my head on the…\n\n\n\nI feel very dizzy. Everything feels amplified and my head hurts. i looked up to see a refrigerator that had been open. Milk had spilled over what appeared to be some kind of photos due to a broken refrigerator. Ah what was this that I have in my hand? It is some kind of locket that said Anna on the front. I struggled and couldn't get it open so I threw it out. I had finally got the strength to stand up and explored what was around me. Nothing special I had never seen this place before. As a matter of fact this is my first memory of ever existing. My only thought was to check recent calls in order to identify the person who last used it. There was one voicemail so I listened \"Your name is john you are a microbiologist and you will forget all of this by tomorrow morning\". I remembered the locket. My name was Anna, not john so I knew it wasn't talking about me.", "The light turned green and the door slid up, and the man tumbled out onto the floor, glistening with sweat and only partly conscious. He curled up into himself and started shaking, and when Bird and Ten tried to pick him up, he began to sob -- long, gasping and pitiful sobs.\n\n“Come on, lad,” said Bird, gently. “Come on, it’ll be okay.”\n\nTen wrinkled his nose. The man had pissed himself in the tube. But he glanced at Bird and said nothing. Together they dragged him over to the drain in the corner, where Red stood waiting with the hose. The man kicked at them feebly, his eyes rolling and his tongue trying to form words that came out as panicked moans. They dropped him in the corner and scampered back as Red turned on the hose. The man remembered how to scream.\n\nAfterwards he sat blinking at them, wrapped in a towel. They gave him a cup of hot water, which he held but did not drink.\n\n“Do you remember what your name is?” asked Bird, bending down close to the man. When he just gaped at them, Bird nodded. “Your name is Ace, lad. Ace Whiskey. Can you say it? ‘My name is Ace Whiskey.’ Say it, go on.”\n\n“Ace Whiskey,” said Ace, slurring the words.\n\nBird pressed him. “Say the whole thing. ‘My name is Ace Whiskey.’ It helps, I promise.”\n\nAce blinked a few more times, licked his lips, and said it. “My name is Ace Whiskey.” He looked past the three of them at the dim room. “Where am I? Where is this?”\n\n“There’s been a situation, Ace. We’re in some sort of emergency and we don’t know what it is, but our memories have been wiped. Do you understand?”\n\nRed watched as Bird explained to Ace, and he watched Ace watching Bird. Bird had a kind face and steady eyes. Sometimes people panicked but he calmed them down. Sometimes they even got angry, but he held them firmly by the shoulders and talked them through it. Ace took it relatively well. He cried a bit, but nodded in agreement to all of Bird’s instructions.\n\n\"So we stick together and we're fine,\" finished Bird. \"Now come on, let’s get dressed, okay?” Ace sniffed and wiped his nose. He was still shaking when he stood, so all three of them helped him get into his boiler suit. They lead him into the corridor, and Bird pointed at the number painted on the wall. “Follow the numbers, yes? They go up in this direction, and down in that direction. You need to go that way, to Dormitory 5. By the time you get there, the lights will have changed and it’ll be meal time. Remember the lights I mentioned?” Bird pointed. On the wall next to the door, a sign made of small lights read, “Period 9”. Above this was a single red bulb, lit up brightly, with the word, “Emergency” painted next to it. Bird tapped the red bulb.\n\n“The lights will tell you what to do. Watch --” Bird bent down to the lights and spoke clearly. “Which way to Dormitory 5?” The lights blinked, and briefly became an arrow pointing one way down the corridor. Bird smiled at Ace. “Okay? Easy peasy! If you need help, say, ‘I need help’ and someone will come find you. Got it? It’s Period 9 for about fifteen more minutes. Your friends will meet you in Dormitory 5 and take you to the meal hall for Evening Meal.”\n\nAce put a hand on the wall, steadying himself. “How do I know they are my friends?”\n\nBird put a firm hand on Ace’s shoulder and looked him right in the eyes. “We all have to stick together, Ace. Your friends are always your friends. They remember your name and where you sleep and what food you like. You did the same for them when they were wiped. Stick with your friends in Dormitory 5. They’ll let you know the rest.” Then he grinned and slapped him companionably. “Relax! This’ll be over soon. We’ll get our memories back and laugh about it.”\n\nThey watched Ace stumbled down the corridor, his shoes banging unevenly on the metal floor. Ten exhaled loudly when they were out of hearing. “God, did he ever stink! Did I smell that bad when I came out?”\n\nBird laughed. “You came out smelling as sweet as you do now.”\n\nTen stuck his nose deep into his armpit and inhaled. “I smell beautiful!” he concluded. He jumped back, hooting in alarm, as Red advanced with his own arm raised, damp armpit presented.\n\n“Smell it!” demanded Red. “Smell it!” Ten shrieked and ran away, waving at them as he went and shouting, “See you pricks at Meal!”\n\n“He ran off without cleaning up again.”\n\n“Leave it,” said Bird, shutting the door. “We can get it in the morning.” He bent down and talked into the lights. “Signing off wipe room. Bird December, Red Quebec, Ten Horses.” The lights flickered green in affirmation. A buzzing alarm sounded twice in the corridor, and the lights blinked, changing to, “Evening Meal”. Doors opened on the corridor and men emerged, stretching and sighing and slapping each other on the backs. Red and Bird joined the movement towards the meal hall, and they were soon in a press of bodies and boiler suits smelling of sweat and oil. It became very noisy, with hundreds of feet clanging along the floor and men shouting at each other over their heads, and then they knew they were getting close from the roar of hundreds of men talking all at once. They passed through the big double doors into the meal hall.\n\nAll the food dispensers already had long lines in front of them, so they took a minute to find Ace Whiskey. He was sitting at a long table with his dorm mates, who were laughing together and encouraging him to eat. When Bird asked, the men shouted all shouted out. “He’s fine! He’s back to his old self!” Ace looked around him and said he agreed. Then he swirled the green paste on his tray, and finally offered, “I don’t like the food though.” The table erupted in general hilarity.\n\n“Breakfast is better!” laughed Bird.\n\n“Lies! Lies!” shouted the men at the table, and one cried out, “You’ll never forget how much you hate it until they make you forget it!” More laughter. Ace laughed too, and Bird saw this and nodded.\n\nTen found them at the table, appearing out of nowhere and slamming his tray down with a clang. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, how art thou? Didst ye cleaneth up?”\n\n“Left it for you,” said Bird.\n\nTen clucked his tongue and started eating. Between mouthfuls, he reported the gossip. The hydroponic farms that had broken had been fixed. The second cleaning team was hunting whoever was stuffing up the toilets with paper in Dormitory 8. Frank and Ant from the Generator team had gotten into a fight and everyone agreed they’d be wiped again.\n\n“Why were they fighting?” asked Red.\n\nTen shrugged and kept eating. “Who knows? All these men trapped down here in an emergency, things get tense. Just makes sense to wipe them again. Keep the peace, best thing to do.”\n\n“No, I mean, were they fighting about the Generator? Something to do with, with how it works?”\n\n“What?” Ten looked up and saw Red staring right at him, his eyes narrow and insistent. “I don’t know why they were fighting, Red! What difference does it make?”\n\nRed chewed his lip for a moment, his eyes going distant. Then he dropped his eyes to his plate and concentrated on eating. Ten turned to Bird and gestured at Red, but Bird only shook his head. Ten shrugged again. “Well anyway, bet we get a notice about it soon. Anyone want to bet? Bet you a day off?”\n\nFive minutes later, they noticed a younger man walking hesitantly in their direction, scanning the faces. He had a card in his hand, and they vaguely recognized him as one they’d wiped a few days earlier. Ten raised his hand and waved at him. “This’ll be us now, bet you anything!”\n\n“You ever notice how none of us take your bets?” said Bird. He nodded towards the young men when he spotted them. His face brightened with relief and he hurried right up to Bird, ignoring Ten’s waving.\n\n“I'm glad I found you, Bird! The lights said to give this to you?”\n\n“Yes, lad, good work.” Bird accepted the card, and then Ten and Red had to wait an interminable minute while Bird asked how the guy was doing and all sort of other questions that had nothing to do with the card, which sat on the table refusing to open no matter how hard Ten stared at it. But finally Bird did open it and read what it said. He read in silence for a long moment.\n\nTen huffed, impatient. “So? Frank and Ant, yeah? They been put on the schedule for tomorrow, yeah?”\n\n“Yes,” said Bird, lowering the card. “Frank and Ant are on there. First thing tomorrow.”\n\n“I win the bet then!” said Ten, tapping the table and smirking. “You both owe me two days off. You probably don’t remember making the bet, so it’s good I can remind you. We stick together, as they say!”\n\nBird’s face was very still. “Red is also getting wiped tomorrow.”\n\nTen was caught with his mouth open, so he kept it there and gaped at Bird. Then he gaped at Red as well, opening and closing his mouth a few times for emphasis. Red put his spoon down carefully and folded his arms, leaning back to stare at the ceiling.\n\nBird leaned toward Red and lowered his voice so that only the three of them could hear over the ruckus in the hall. “What’s happened, Red?”\n\n“You just got wiped --!” began Ten, but Bird hissed at him and he got the hint. He began again in a whisper. “You just got wiped like thirty cycles ago, Red. You should be done.”\n\n“We all should be done,” agreed Bird. “None of us remember anything from before the emergency. We each been wiped at least twice. That should be it.”\n\nTen pressed in closer. “Have you been fighting?” He pressed in still closer, eyes wide. “Are you the toilet stuffer?”\n\n“Ten, for God’s sake!” Bird pushed him back into his seat and turned back to Red. “So something’s happened. Whatever it is, Red, we’re your friends. We stick together.”\n\n\"We stick together,” agreed Ten.\n\nRed lowered his eyes and looked at them each hard. At last he said, “I’m glad this happened. This confirms something, and now --” He nodded at them and smiled, a bright, confident smile. “We stick together. I know we do. Meet me in the records room after Evening Clean.”\n\nHe picked up his tray and was lost in the crowd.\n\n[Part 2 when it’s done!]", "\"12\n\nDear Self, \n\nYou idiot. \n\nBy the time you read this, your memories will have been wiped. I don't know exactly how much they're going to take. But I had to warn you: don't. I know what you're probably thinking - I'm you, after all. \"My memories have been wiped! Sweet! I'm like a secret agent or something! I'll embark on a quest and recover them and fight evil forces, get the girl, blah blah blah.\" No. No. No, you fool. This was voluntary.\n\nI don't know if I can really prove I'm you. I'd tell you something only I know, but by the time you read this, you won't know it. I could tell you how you got that scar on the first joint of your right index finger, but anyone could have noticed it and made something up, or learned the story. (picked up a shard of glass on the way to Kindergarten. Yeah, we were dumb as a kid). The best I can do is hide this in a place only I would know to look. Multiple copies, of course. The version you're reading now is the one I hid in our personal copy of the Book of Ecclesiastes - almost no one knows it's my favorite. Hopefully it's still yours. I don't know.\n\nSo I'm just going to implore you. Don't. Please. It's not worth it. No one gazes upon the Sleeper of the Dead City and retains a whole mind. We need this to stay excised from our brain. \n\n...\n\nIt's not going to work, is it? You're too damned curious. Damn you, me. Damn you. Why can't you just leave it alone? Why am I so stupid?\n\nFine. You stupid self-destructive moron. I knew it would come to this: see the number at the top? Bet you wondered about that, huh? That's the number of times we've gone through this. That's right, you've had your mind wiped that many times. When you finally, inevitably realize I was right, call Thomas and schedule an appointment. His number's on the back. Just tell him \"the usual, please\". He'll know what to do.\n\nOh, and write yourself a note. See if you can make it more convincing. Maybe someday, I'll get through to me.\n\nSincerely, \n\nYou\"\n************************************************\nTears splotted down onto the page. Trembling hands reached towards a piece of paper, and a pen. The man began to write across the top:\n\n\"13\n\nDear Self...\"", "\"Hey Dad.\"\n\n\"Oh hi Gerald, how is your mother?\"\n\n\"She's out doing some grocery shopping, did you want to go for a walk in the meantime?\"\n\n\"Sure, but where am I?\"\n\n\"This is a treatment facility for...for people with memory problems. You'll be out of here in no time.\"\n\n______________________________\n\n\"Hey Dad.\"\n\n\"Oh hi Gerald, how is your mother? You look older than I remember.\"\n\n\"She's out doing some grocery shopping, did you want to go for a walk in the meantime?\"\n\n\"Sure, but where am I?\"\n\n\"This is a treatment facility for people with, for people with memory problems. You'll be out of here in no time.\"\n\n______________________________\n\n\"Hey Dad.\"\n\n\"Oh hi Gerald, how is your mother?\"\n\n\"She's out doing some grocery shopping, did you want to go for a walk in the meantime?\"\n\n\"Sure, but where am I?\"\n\n\"This is a treatment facility for people with memory problems. You'll be out of here in, I can't do this anymore. Dad, Mom has been dead for ten years. Dad? Dad!\"\n\n\"Oh hi Gerald, how is your mother?\"", "Tomorrow your memory will be erased. You will wake up and yet again forget all of this, red fields of Mars, unicorns, monsters, the worlds you saved. There is no other like you -- they all sleep, but only you are here each night, to save yet another land, to defeat a dragon, to fix a critical malfunction, to prevent a nuclear crisis.\n\nWe studied you, as we watched your travels. Our devices can see the entire multiverse, even though we can not touch it. But you, in your dreams, go through it all freely, always in some place that needs help, sometimes grabbing a child from under a car, sometimes stopping a galactic war.\n\nWe were not religious, but now some of us are. They follow your boring day life, the job you dislike, and look for clues. Who would you save next night? Is that pile of paper on your desk a clue, an omen of those bone-white alien ships you stopped from erasing the sun? And the portrait of your frowning boss in your notepad looks just like a bloodthirsty god that you have banished from his ruby temple.\n\nI do not believe in such nonsense. But if I do not, I have to believe it is all a game of chance.\n\nYou save the wonders of the multiverse, but you can never be there to truly witness them. \n\nNow you are the most important person in all of the known worlds. But tomorrow you will wake up, and you will only find fragments of your dreams, amusing just enough to make your girl laugh.\n\nBut maybe just that is worth it all." ]	6
	[WP] You have a 10-minute phone call with yourself from age 16	[ "Alright, listen up. I know we've spent a lot of time thinking about time travel and paradox and all that jazz. You and both know we can't start messing with the past - I mean your future. Well my past, your future. But we both know we can mess with my future.... and your far off future. \n\nYeah, how old am I now? I mean then? I mean when I'm in the future. Wait, shit. I get what you mean. We better not go there. Even knowing how old you - er I am...are when we make this call could disrupt everything. Ok, better get on with it. The guys are coming over to play Rise of the Triad in a bit and may rent Star Trek Generations or something from Blockbuster later tonight. \n\n\nJeeze, I really was that nerdy. Ok, that might make this that much easier to handle. I guess I should give you more credit. Sorry, it's been a while. \n\nSo you're saying we become cool? Wait don't answer that. \n\nNice you got it. Ok. I want you to buy Apple Computer stock. As much as you can. Keep buying it and put it in an account. Set it up so all dividends get reinvested. Go see a lawyer and set up a trust. \n\nApple? Are you crazy? \n\nShut up. Just listen. You need to make it so that you can't access it until June 11, 2014. Set up a trust fund or something. \n\nFuuuuuuck. You're calling from June 10th, 2014! That's like Back To the Future shit right there. Are there hoverboards and hover cars yet?\n\nNo dumbass, that doesn't happen until next year, in 2015. I'm kidding. I mean, you don't need to know if that happens. Stop messing with the timeline!\n\nSo what are we going to do with the money? \n\nI don't know yet. I was just given this opportunity. I'll have to figure this out tomorrow. Maybe I should buy a boat?\n\nA boat? Do I like boats in the future? \n\nNo, sorry, that's an internet joke. \n\nAn internet joke? Like AOL? Cause it sure doesn't sound very funny. \n\nOk, it's not really. \n\nFine. Whatever, ok I'm going to go by some apples tomorrow. \n\nApple stock! STOCK YOU IDIOT. \n\nStock what? Of course, I'm just messing with you. So what else?\n\nUm... that's it. Stay in school?\n\nStay in school? Do I drop out of school??\n\nNo, I just... I just don't have anything else I can say. Sorry. \n\nOk, well, this got awkward. \n\nYep. Ok. get the stock. Set up the trust. Dont' forget June..\n\nI know, June 11th, 2014. Gotcha. \n\nOk, later me.\n\nOk.... well, this was odd. Yep. Later. \n\n<click>\n\n\n\n", "Hey Kid.\n\nWhy do you always call me that? I’m 16 I’m not a kid anymore. Hell I can drive now for crying out loud\n\nYou’ll understand….\n\n...when I’m older? God you’re weird.\n\nNo more than you are. How’ve you been?\n\nYou know how I’ve been. You’re me.\n\nHumor me.\n\nWell…..I got my license, told you that already....got my first speeding ticket\n\nOh shit I remember that, God I thought dad was going to lock me up forever.\n\nRight?!? The old man was surprisingly cool about that.\n\nDon’t call him that.\n\nWhy not? You did.\n\nYeah but…...just don’t. He’s dad.\n\nFiiiiiiiiiiine. Anyways, I started going out with this girl Julie….\n\nJulie! Oh wow, I forgot all about her. She’s the one with the brown hair, always carried around that notebook with her, she always smelled like…\n\nStrawberries! It’s amazing. Wait if you don’t remember her does that mean we don’t get married?\n\nDo you really want to know?\n\nI dunno, do I?\n\nLets leave that one alone for now. Spoilers.\n\nBut…\n\nFine, no, she thinks you’re not mature enough.\n\nOh that’s bullshit, I’m totally mature enough.\n\nYou get to feel her boobs though.\n\nOh….well then I guess it’s not that bad.\n\nYou can do better.\n\nDo I….never mind.\n\nWhat?\n\nNo it’s embarrassing.\n\nThis is me you’re talking to, I literally know embarrassing thing you’ve ever done, and a bunch you’re about to do.\n\nDo I…...you know…….do I ever fall in love? You never really talk about that.\n\nOh. That’s hard to answer.\n\nThis doesn’t bode well for me.\n\nNo no its not like that it’s just….ok yes you fall in love…..a lot. Sometimes it feels like you do it too much.\n\nBut what about…...does someone ever love me back?\n\nYeah....that's the hard part. I dunno how to answer that just yet. Ask me next time we talk.\n\nWhat about you?\n\nWhat about me.\n\nYou always call and ask how I’m doing, how are you doing?\n\nOh, I...we...do ok. I have a good job, I bought a house….I have….I dunno….decent credit.\n\nDecent credit? That’s boooooooring, tell me about all the rad shit we get to do. Do we ever go diving in the Great Barrier Reef like we always wanted to.\n\nYup, did that.\n\nDid you ever make it to Alaska?\n\nYes dude, it was soooooooo rad!\n\nYou still say rad?\n\nYeah, heh, I guess I do. Why does that surprise you, people stopped using it at your age too.\n\nYeah but, I dunno, I always said it BECAUSE no one else said it.\n\nYou were very clever.\n\nYou’re mocking me.\n\nYes, yes I am.\n\nSeriously though what about all the adventures and stuff I want to do. The book I want to write, the script I wrote for that TV show.\n\nOh my god, the book! Wow kid, I guess I kinda forgot about all those things.\n\nHow could you forget that’s literally all I think about.\n\nI dunno. I’m not blowing you off, I legitimately don’t remember how that happened. I guess I just grew out of it.\n\nOh. Well, what you do now, this job you refuse to tell me about. Is it fun?\n\nNo it’s work, hehe. It’s not supposed to be fun it just pays the bills.\n\nThat sounds kinda shitty.\n\nYeah it does sound kinda shitty when I say it out loud.\n\nWhy didn't you just become a writer?\n\nYou know how much money writers make?\n\nYeah but we’re better than they are. Every teacher we’ve ever had said so.\n\nIt’s too risky, I wanted to have financial stability.\n\nSo you decided to do a boring job so you could not be happy. At least you’re financially stable.\n\nI don’t remember being this sarcastic at your age\n\nListen, if I tell you something, do you promise not to be mad.\n\nOf course not, you’re me.\n\nI’m…….I’m kinda disappointed in you.\n\nI know.\n\nI’m not mad or anything…..I just……..I thought we’d be better.\n\nI know. I did too.\n\nHey listen mom’s home, she’s doing tacos tonight.\n\nHoly shit taco night! I miss taco night. Ok I’ll let you go. Kiss mom for me...us.\n\nOk. Listen….you’re gonna……...you’re gonna call again, right?\n\nOf course I will. You’ve given me a lot to think about.\n\nCool. I’ll talk to you then.\n\nLater kid.\n\n\\click\\\n" ]	2
	[WP] The enemy force is breaking down the gates to the city. You're left with a small squad inside the walls, and must hold out until reinforcements arrive.	[ "'I never called my mother after I got home from visiting. Why didn't I? It was a simple thing. It was a lovely visit. And I didn't visit dad. The Grave yard is on the way.'\n\nBOOOOOM! The first attempt fails. \n\nI never finished the second bedroom renovations. They were coming along nicely. Marie was going to help paint it. I never could figure out that painting business.\n\n\"Sir! What do we do?' yells the corporal shaking me out of my stupor. 'One more rpg and they are through that wall. we need orders!\"\n\nWhat does he want? What could I possibly say? I was promoted because I was told to leave the chopper for that young couple.\n\n\"Sir. We need orders!'\n\nBOOOOOOM! The wall collapses. Bullets start pouring in.\n\n\"Sir! Orders! Now! We need orders!\"\n\nI stare up at the young man, dried blood covers his face. Dried blood and terror. I glance at the wall. Then back at the young corporal. What else can I say....? I answer him.\n\n\"fight.\"", "“They made it past the river! They are advancing!” The private screamed to his commanding squad leader.\n\t“We need to retreat!” Another private screamed.\n\t“Shut your mouth son! We were given an order to defend this building at all costs! And we will defend this building. I don’t care if every other squad has fallen back; we are not going to give them an inch! Am I clear?” The lieutenant ordered.\n\t“Yes sir!” the four man squad shouted in unison.\n\t“Watson, set up a machine gun on the roof and cover the south and west streets that lead here. Morrison, take your M1 and set up on the north side of the building. There are several empty crates that should provide you with enough cover to keep you from getting your head blown to pieces. You cover the alleyway that leads here. Burton, clear the east road so reinforcements can get to us. Monroe, you take the prisoner upstairs, and make sure he stays tied to his chair (the squad had taken a messenger hostage, and tied him down to a chair).” The lieutenant ordered.\n\tWatson climbed on the roof and set up his machine gun on the corner of the building in order to cover both streets. He said “These Krauts are never going to know what hit them.” He saw ten or so Germans approaching the building to the south. He did not shoot immediately, but waited in order to draw them out. He gazed upon the enemy soldiers. They were not old scruffy mean men, but boys. They looked to be fresh recruits, who were as “bad” as he was. They came closer to the building, but he couldn’t shoot. He finger was frozen on the trigger. He had never killed anyone before.\n\tThe lieutenant glanced out the window to see the enemy closing in on the building. He knew that Watson was chocking, he had seen it a dozen times. He pulled out his pistol and aimed it at the enemy through the windows. He shot twice. The enemy was instantly alerted, and began blind firing back. Watson, even though he was not being shot at, reacted to the German fire and pulled the trigger. Machine gun fire roared from the roof. It seemed as if every bullet hit its mark. The Germans ran for cover, but found none.\n\tTo the north Morrison was set up behind the supply crates. He saw a couple of Krauts rushing down the alley, and he opened fire. They were both surprised, and had to cover. He dropped them both with one shot each. After firing he then saw dozens of Germans running down the north alleyway screaming. He couldn’t take them all. He saw that they were running towards a bus in the middle of the road, and hiding behind it. They would pop out from the windows and fire back. He was pinned down, and couldn’t fire back.\n\t“I need some support over here!” Morrison yelled.\n\tThe lieutenant heard him, and grabbed his M1 Garand. He ran out the building towards where Morrison was. While he was running a bullet hit him dead center in the chest. He grasped for breath, but couldn’t take in any. The gasping stopped, and the squad leader died. Enraged Morrison pulled the pin on his only grenade, and threw it at the bus. After he threw it he stood up and began unleashing fire. His clip ran out, and the Germans began rushing forward towards him. He pulled out his pistol, and started firing that in a last effort. He killed some, but more kept on charging. The Germans came closer, and would be on him any minute. He panicked, and turned the gun on himself, and shot himself. \n\tMonroe watched the scene unfold from the second floor window. He had his pistol out, but left his rifle downstairs. His back was turned on the prisoner. The messenger, still tied to the chair, charged at Monroe. He head butted Monroe, and knocked him over. Monroe dropped his pistol. The prisoner them turned around and thrust the back of the chair onto Monroe. The chair broke, and the rope tying him to the chair came loose. His arms were now free, and he began to choke Monroe. With one hand he choked, and with the other he punched him in the face. Monroe stopped moving, and let out one last breath.\n\tThe messenger came running out of the building towards the north. He tried to reunite with his countrymen, but they mistook him for an American and shot him multiple times. Meanwhile, Watson managed to keep the south and west sides clear. The Germans from the north charged into the building. One soldier ran upstairs, and heard gunshots coming from the roof. He found the source of the shots, and shot upwards through the ceiling. One bullet hit Watson in the stomach. It wasn’t fatal, but after he was shot his body reacted by jerking over to his left side. He couldn’t control it, and he fell off the building. He snapped his neck, and was killed. \n\tBurton saw all that was happening, and decided to run for it. He reasoned that he would only die if he stayed, and wouldn’t an alive soldier be better than a dead one? He ran to the east, fleeing from danger. He eventually made it back to the rest of his platoon, and was reassigned to another squad. He was shot and killed three months later.\n\n\nEdit: sorry the formatting messed up, and the paragraphs are not showing.\n", "(First time I've ever posted on my phone, not sure how this will turn out.)\nCaptain Hawkes raised herself from the ash and blood around her, sword firmly in hand, armor stained crimson. We could no longer see the sun- soot from our burning city and the Damned's siege machines blocked out those last rays of hope, leaving us, the last one hundred men and women, fighting for life in the sudden, unwelcoming darkness.\n\n\n\"Listen to me, all of you!\" Hawkes screamed over the roar of the approaching siege machines. \"You are all that is left. YOU are all that stands in the way of 100,000 soulless creatures from raping your wives and children, slaughtering your families and burning your homes to the ground.\" Many soldiers began slamming on their shields in a show of loyalty. Good way to inspire a person, threats against their family. \"YOU are all that stands in the way of the Damned from getting to the Capitol! When they write the history of this war, this will be the defining moment! They will sing songs about us for generations come!\" We were all cheering now, smashing the hilts of our swords into our shields. Even I must admit, I was a bit disillusioned at my name being sung by bards in taverns and palaces.\n\n\nThe gates before us began to buckle under the pressure of their massive Clockwork Ram.\n\n\n\"They will breach these walls any second, soldiers! Hold the line, men! Reinforcements will be here within the hour! Put these bastards in the ground!\" An astounding roar from the remaining one hundred troops seemed to fill the soul with fire.\n\n\nThe gates burst open. A volley of crossbow bolts soared across the gap between us.\n\n\nCaptain Hawkes was the first to fall.\n", "(Posting from phone, we'll see how this goes)\n\n\nI wasn't born a soldier, and I sure as hell didn't want to be one when I was growing up. I'm of the belief that humanity is a peaceful lot, and it's the bad eggs who enjoy violence. But men make mistakes, it's what we do as humans. We fall down but get right back up.\n\nNow honestly, the only reason I volunteered when that damned civil war arose was to keep my family safe. Now, I stand with my remaining comrades-in-arms in this hellhole of a town as we await an assault from an enemy that far exceeds our capabilities. I guess that I didn't make the smartest decision, moving to the edge of the No-Man's Land, but it was ironically the easiest place to keep my family safe, with them huddled in shelters not fifty miles from our army, as safe a place as I can afford them while still granting them what meager time I have free. It's a tedious life for both my wife and my children, and to an extent I feel it too, both when I patrol and when I return to them. But we get through it, we're human after all.\n\nNow, as I stand at the gates waiting for reinforcements on foot that won't get here soon enough, I prepare my last meal. I always wanted to be a chef, in fact, it was just last summer at the State Fair that I prepared food in a tiny little shack for fair attendees. I'm overjoyed to say that although it wasn't the best, it was good enough for over a thousand people, and when I finished the week of work I was proud of my cooking, even if i did muff up a couple times. The stove is burning, the wood inside heating my last portion of eggs as I scramble them. \n\nAs I go to add more pieces of wood to the stove, there's a knock on the door. I leave the stove, promising myself I won't forget my eggs and burn them like I did last time when we were rounded up to fight. I'm a little nervous, with so few numbers it's certain we won't survive long enough to see dusk--in fact, as I mull over my fate, I allow myself a fantasy, dying next to my comrades in front of the large gate, our staunch bastion throughout our defense. Returning to present, I open the door in time to see my panicked sergeant as he nervously fidgets, waiting for me.\n\n\"I've got something to ask ya, can I come in? I've been thinking about your family, and I know that if you die they'll be helpless just fifty-odd miles from the battlefield,\" he stammers out. \"I've been thinking, how open would you be to possibly deserting the gatehouse to get your family to safety?\"\n\n\"Absolutely not sir, I'm not a fool! I'll be scapegoated for a battle that's already lost and my family will be humiliated--and our pride is the only thing we've got left.\"\n\n\"Alright, suit yourself. I hope you realize that ya' won't live to see tomorrow, Tom. I could have set you up on the winning side with a guaranteed new life, but now you don't get a fresh start!\" \n\nI begin to mull over his words even as I usher him out the door, and by the time I return my eggs have blackened. Beyond salvation, I begin to ponder what was suggested. It's a human response, I tell myself. Nobody is infallible, certainly not in war. The enemy is just across the door and they outnumber us five to one, and fight like demons with their blades. I hope my wife and kids survive the next few days, they're all they have in this world, because I'll soon be gone too. My eye catches on the still burning stove, I think I've gotten an idea.\n\n\n--\n\n\nThe fire spreading throughout the town under the shadow of the looming gates, I can only trust that my family evacuates once they see the huge cloud of smoke arising from my house. I hope they think I died a heroic death, it will ease my desertion, I imagine they'll find the sergeant's body that I left there. It's a shame this was such a rout but I suppose as death approaches through the undefended gates, I have to accept the fact that I'm only human.", "Every rumble is accompanied by a thin trickle of dust that hangs in the air, ready to choke each passing man. Flashlight beams became less beacons, more tethers. Holding together five men and thirteen civilians as they sealed the manhole behind them.\n\n\"Down.\"\n\nDown deeper, ever deeper. At first modern tiled passages. Neat bundles of pipes and wires. Should be lights, but the thunder has long since snuffed them. Then sewers. Stinking. Now catacombs.\n\nSkulls stare blankly as the lights swipe over them. Now and again one of the small children glances up. Utters a stifled cry. Returns to mewling and dribbling unto its mothers' breast. And still they go deeper.\n\n\"Here\"\n\nThe leader stops in a relatively large chamber. Miles underground at least. Distance doesn't mix with darkness. The soldiers sweep the room. Peek down dark passages leading off in six different directions. A pillar of bones rises up in its center. Femurs.\n\n\"Clear\"\n\nEveryone settles in. One man is having an intense panic attack. Claustrophobia. Pity. His quiet crying and gasping for air lull the children to fitful sleep in the dank humidity.\n\nFour light go out. One remains on in the dark.\n\n\"NO!\"\n\nEveryone is awake in a moment. The children are screaming and crying. And there is no light in the dark.", "THUMB.\n\nThe sound echoed through the city.\n\nTHUMB.\n\nIn a hundred homes, women cowered with their children, in corners and under tables, behind beds and curtains. The older children stood near the doors wielding whatever they had - kitchen knives and wooden planks.\n\nTHUMB.\n\nThe gates shuddered under the strain. The enemy had been hammering at it for hours. The walls were not strong, but they were stronger than the gate. Twenty men swung the ram, crudely fashioned from a large tree, against the gate again and again; behind them, we knew, stood a hundred more. The gate was never meant to hold against such strain. It had been built to keep wolves and brigands out, and to keep goats and children in; not to stand against an army, even a small one.\n\nTHUMB.\n\nWe stood in the courtyard. There were eighty of us, to their hundred-twenty; only forty of ours were armed for war. The rest were farmers, turned out to protect their homes: men as old as forty, children as young as fourteen. They were armed with whatever they could muster. The lucky few had stout spears. Some had a brace of javelins, or a sling and shot. Most had clubs and knives, the same as their sons and brothers guarding their homes. Most would die, before this was over.\n\nThe other forty - my unit - would have to hold the line.\n\nTHUMB.\n\nThe gate was cracking. The enemy was nearly through. Their shouts could be heard clearly, rising in cacophonous cheers as their leader called upon them, pushing them to war, urging them to seek glory and riches in the plunder of this township. The ram crashed against the gate again, splintering the wood and sending slivers flying into the air. We could begin to see the snarling wolf's head that had been carved into the ram, disfigured now from hours of work.\n\nThe man to my left shifted nervously. Our leader called for order, ordered us to close ranks. He gave us no rousing speech, no call to glory. He gave us only an order. A reminder of our training. A reminder of our duty. This village paid tribute to us, paid us homage, owed their allegiance to us; we owed them our protection from barbarians and invaders, from other cities. And so we stood.\n\nTHUMB.\n\nOur ranks were closed. My shield covered the man to my left. The man to my right covered me with his shield. A spear jutted over my shoulder. The phalanx had been drilled into us for years, and we fell into it with ease. The townsfolk behind us had no such training; they knew only that they must fight and, if need be, die here, or everything they knew and loved would be raped, and that which could not be taken would be burned. For a moment I envied them their zeal, the passion they had born of necessity.\n\nBut only a moment.\n\nWith a terrifying crash the crossbeam shattered. The gates swung open, and like painted daemons the enemy poured through. The terrible work of slaughter had begun.", "\"Hey Jim!\" Rusty whispered from somewhere in the dark. \n\nThe silence of the night was the only reply he received. \n\n\"Jim! You there?\" Rusty was still technically whispering, but it somehow sounded like yelling. \n\n\"Jim?\"\n\n\"Christ! Yes. What do you want?\" Jim's hushed reply emanated from a nebulous and impossibly black shadow off to the left. There was another moment of silence before Rusty answered. \n\n\"You awake?\"\n\n\"Good Lord Rust!\" Jim spat, struggling to contain the decibels escaping from his jowls. \"Of course I'm awake, now shut the hell up before you get us all killed!\"\n\nIf there was any sound emanating from the night, the balmy darkness smothered it without mercy. Seconds, maybe minutes dripped by; it was hard to distinguish between the two. Not even the usual night time bugs and insects dared to betray the stillness with their chatter. You pull the butt of your rifle tight into your shoulder. \n\n\"Hey Jim!\" \n\n\"For fuck's sake, Rusty. You trying to give away our position?\"\n\nAnother pause that barely gave the darkness a chance to repair its wounded silence. \n\n\"I farted.\"\n\nMuted laughter and stifled chuckling break out from half a dozen spots around you. You twist slightly, bringing your rifle in line with one such chortle a bit to your right and roughly thirty feet away. Behind you, you hear a crisp ping as the spoon of a flash-bang springs free and a metallic clang as it hits the rubble-strewn ground. Miles lets the charge cook for a few seconds and tosses it with an audible grunt. You take up the slack on the trigger. \n\nThe flash-bang went off a few feet higher than you would have liked, but it was still enough to sear the image of the enemy scout's face, clearly in a rapid transition from smirk to confusion, into your long-term memory. You make a minor adjustment in aim, and before the darkness even has a chance to muffle the sound of the explosion, squeeze the trigger. \n\nThe darkness worked quickly to stifle both the bang and the flash, taking only slightly longer to dispatch the echos bouncing off the city walls in the distance. The silence quickly becomes more deafening than the concussions. Minutes, perhaps just moments later, you whisper over your left shoulder.\n\n\"Santos!\" No reply is made, but you can soon hear Santos crawling over the shattered bricks and timbers. Even in this abyss of night he manages to avoid disturbing a single piece of debris; the rustling of his uniform is the only thing to betray his location. He falls silent for a bit when he gets to your point of aim. \n\n\"Nice shot Cap.\"\n\n\"Holy shit! That worked?!\" Rusty was suddenly having a hard time containing his laughter. \"Nice work Cap. Balls on a bun, man, I can't believe that actually worked!\"\n\n\"Rusty, you are one crazy SOB.\" This hushed accusation came from Felix, hidden somewhere beyond Rusty. \"A little heads-up next time you pull a stunt like that might be nice though.\"\n\n\"Hey! Cap. and Miles figured it out,\" Rusty retorted. \"It's not like we could use a spot-light to flush him out. Had to try something.\"\n\n\"Well next time you try some crap like that, don't drag me into it.\" Anyone not in the squad would surely mistake Jim's tone for anger and contempt, but you all knew Jim would happily take a bullet for any one of you. More likely than not, he would then cut the bullet out with his teeth, spit it back in the face of whichever unlucky sod managed to shoot him, and proceed to disembowel the poor fellow with a belt buckle.\n\nJim was a good man to have on the squad. \n\n\"Quiet down gents,\" you rebuke gently. \"We need to move. That won't have been the only scout they've sent over the wall looking for us. Now lets get to the station before they finish off the gates. Santos, you still have your detonator?\"\n\n\"Yes sir, Cap. Just say the word.\"\n\n\"As soon as they breach the walls, gents, they'll get one heck of a surprise. Let's move.\" The six of you cautiously stand and start to pick your way through the remnants of your city. \n\n\"Hah, that will be a surprise,\" Felix murmured between steps. \"Boom... no more wall.\"\n\n\"No more rebel bastards!\" Jim scoffed.\n\n\"Let's hope. The wings won't be bringing air support for another 12 hours at least. We've only got one shot at this, so hush up and hump it.\" The six of you trek through the wreckage. \n\n\"Or...\" Miles offered, finally breaking his long silence. \"We can throw Jim over the wall and be home in time for breakfast.\"\n\nRusty squealed with laughter and promptly tripped over a fallen branch. ", "It’s called shellshock. It’s that point when after all the explosions, the fighting and the death you find yourself in that line between sanity and insanity. For me it was the point where I looked around and saw everyone dead; dismembered, crying, screaming and whimpering, all praying for someone to help. \n\nI stumble around and then feel a rude tug at my ankles, it is Arthur. He’s missing his legs. “Captain”, he croaks; he talks some more but I can’t pay attention, perhaps he gave me a message to his wife or to his mom, I really can't make it out. I do remember one thing; I’m supposed to be in charge of this cemetery that used to be my division.\n\nI scream with my loudest command voice; the one that they teach you to use in order to make people listen, “To the gate! We need to go back to the gate!” I take care not to mention retreat; the King’s holy army “never” retreats. I make way back to the gate hoping that anyone whose left has heard the order. I make haste as the sound of the enemy’s drums approaches; they're closing in for the kill.\nI reach the gate to the Goxhill keep; it’s a thick wooden gate with iron bars that wouldn't last long under siege. This entire village was deemed of “low strategic importance” by the generals, but even in these rural villages a small holding force is assigned to stop peasant revolts and keep men flowing into the army. Recently, the enemy has begun attacking these villages, aiming to terrify the populace into submission. From the looks of it, he’s succeeding.\n\nI go inside and push the gates shut, taking care to secure it with some iron bars. It’s the captain’s responsibility to ultimately man the gates and I sure as hell won't give up my life for some green troops. I look at the men who made it in time. Nine, only nine fucking sons of bitches, so green I could plant them in my orchard. Nine isn't enough to make a line. Nine, out of one hundred goddamn men, some captain I must be. The disappointment in my face is quickly picked up by the troops. I try to put on a brave face but I can’t. I have no more courage to give, I am doomed and so are they. The best we can manage is staving off the inevitable.\n\n“Start reinforcing this god damn gate, I want it shut tighter than my wife’s chastity belt”, I order, using the good ol’ command force. The men scurry like rats getting everything they can to block the reliably useless gate. “I want whoever is next in command to tell me what’s the status on reinforcements and the village people.”\n\nA sergeant limps towards me and starts speaking in a raspy voice quivering with fear, “We sent Arthur and Stevenson to alert command in Manchester 2 hours ago, they should be there by now.” I decide against telling him that Arthur is outside, missing his lower body, “The women and children are in the cathedral, maybe the enemy will allow them to claim sanctuary.” I decide against telling him that no one, not even the “holy” army, abides the laws of sanctuary.\n\nThe remaining men manage to put up a respectable barricade and then get into formation. Then silence, the sounds of the ever present drums ceases. They’re here. Thud … Thud … Thud … “Block the gates, we can’t let them breach.” I place all my weight against the gate hoping it will hold out against the battering rams. With each thud, I see the dust shaken off the ancient oak door. With each thud, I hear the metal hinges creak. With each thud, I feel the spirits of my men failing.\n\nWe hold on desperately, each man placing his full weight against the door and finally they see the beginning of the end. A seam zigzags through the wood, showing a crack that will only get wider. I was on the other side once, the one doing the ramming, anyone trying to hold that gate after the crack will be massacred. The thudding stops, the men look around. They all knew were had; did they give up? Did reinforcements arrive? I start crying, we were saved! A private suddenly yells, only understanding the implication of his words as he says them, “Get back, it’s a goddamn bomb!”\n\nI run. This is how they always fight; they discovered gunpowder and used it to make bombs. The men make a line and begin the count, three … two … one... \n\nAn explosion rocks the keeps foundations, turning our hasty barricade into shrapnel. Through the smoke, fire and brimstone emerges the first squad of enemy warriors. They just like us, men turned enemy on the donning of a symbol we don’t like. They charge and smash into us. Time stops in that sacred moment where steel clashes steel, flesh clashes flesh and will clashes will. We keep formation, repelling the first assailants but five of us are already down, leaving gaps so wide you can drive a cart through.\n\nThe second wave comes rushing in. This time we don't fare as well. We meet them but our line breaks almost instantly, all the remaining men are killed or wounded. I run, leaving my men to die but suddenly find a spear drive through my thigh. I scream in agony, trying to gain as much distance from the enemy as possible. They slow down, relishing my pain and fear, hungry wolves that finally corner their prey.\nI hear a stampede in the distance. It’s the cavalry, the made it, Stevenson made it! They rush the swords as they are about to finish me off. The enemy’s line starts to break; they didn't anticipate horsemen in this village. I watch as they are picked off one by one. A view of heaven from the bowels of hell.\n", "The young soldiers looked at me.\n“He’s a legend. Let him be.” \n\nWeak and pale, and old and frail, \nI do not resemble much. \n\nBut OH! I wear the armor!\nNavy blue, and polished true, \nI still wear the armor. \n“Old man, tell us your tale.”\n\nYoung and brave, and strong of arm,\nTwelve hundred stood before them.\n\nEndless hordes; an army vast.\nBarbarians at our gates. \n\nNavy blue and polished true, \nTwelve hundred stood before them. \n\nBow and arrow; axe and sword,\nmarched onward, the endless horde. \n\n“Do not flinch! Do not falter!”\nTwelve hundred stood before them.\n\nWith sunset, the gates came down. \nAll night, the battle raged. \n\nSteel and blood, till rising sun\nnavy blue, died one by one. \n\nNavy blue, and polished true,\ntwelve hundred, save one, were dead. \n\nBut thousands more, no colors wore,\nfor navy blue, the battle won. \n\nNavy blue, and polished true,\ntwelve hundred stood before them. ", "\"Set up firing positions here, here, and here. Have the AA posted on opposite sides of the plaza. And get those recon drones up, set the alarm for 'breach' in case they break through the North Gate.\"\n\n\"You mean 'when', don't you Kosal Leader? We should be makeing for a retreat and leave these humans to their fate. A whole division would be lost defending, what could a squad be expected to do? \"\n\n\"We have our honor and our agreement with these mammals, and we will defend this compound or risk their wrath. They have specifically stated that the central structure over there is not to be taken.\"\n\nHumans started filling the streets. They were armed with an insane variety of weapons. Everything from the antique style chemical propellant firearms to obsolete blaster to hand weapons of every shape and size. If reptiles could cry, the Kosal Leader and his men would have wept in pity.\n\nThe amphibious Rohlan were howling their intentions into the balmy night. Although neither Man nor Kas-Kosal studied the tounge, niether could doubt it intent or malicious tone.\n\nOne of the humans came up to the Kosal leader. \"We know that your weapons are not well suited for the enemy and you have limited munition. Aim to wound their legs, we'll hop on the injured ones and finish them off.\"\n\nThe Kosal leader laughed. \"The Rohlan are rarely beaten and do not take prisoners. If they do not slice you to shreds, they'll rip off your arms and bite off your heads.\" The breach alarm sounded. \"Then they will go for your eggs.\"\n\n\"No,\" the human responded with a stern conviction \" they will not have our 'eggs', you scaled lizard puke.\" He turned back to his people and announced that they were to follow 'Plan B.'\n\nThen the Rohlan swarmed through the streets. Cylinders and containers of all kinds filled the air as the Kosal warriors opened fire. Now aware of their foe , the Rolhan focused thier charge on the defenders. There were fires and explosions of varying power and effect at the impact points of the improvised incendiary and explosive devices. The Rohlan were advancing, but as soon as one staggered or fell hoards of screaming men and women fell upon them. Many of the ill prepared attackers died, but none left the field of battle.\n\n\"Are these furless rats explosive?\" One of the underlings asked the Kosal Leader. \"They are when they strap themselves with explosives.\" \"Falling stars, look at them go, even the old ones\". \"Shut your snouts and hold your posts!\" The battle raged, mere footfalls from the perimeter. The savagery was profound.\n\n\"Reinforcements landed , ETA 2 SEGMENTS!\" \n\nThe Kosal Leader heard one of the rarest sound a soldier could hear, a Rohlan scream in terror. They fell back, the brave mammals chasing after the enemy with chunks of Rohlan flesh hanging from their teeth.\n\nKosal leader looked back at the structure that they defended. He vowed to learn what \"Maternity Ward\" meant. \n\n\n\n" ]	10
emotion based powers: Meaning the more angry the wrath guy is, the more powerful he is. The Melancholy guy must have a great time.	[WP] A Superhero team with emotion based powers. Melancholy have had enough.	[ "Melancholy appeared suddenly, as if from thin air, next to the rain-streaked window. Her gray eyes sat still in their sockets, unable to summon the energy to focus. The light from the bathroom down the hall cast shadows over the dusty stacks of overdue bills that she had begrudgingly refused to pay. She had been sitting by the window for hours, but had camouflaged herself moments earlier when she heard the doorbell ring. \n\nMelancholy did not have the energy to face Schaudenfreude this afternoon, who must have been dangerously low because he rarely stooped so low as to visit her, and never on foot. He had dropped through an open window unexpectedly a few months ago to revel in her post-breakup sweatpants phase. At the time she hadn't minded, as her powers had started to wane in the midst of the healthy relationship and the presence of a joyful onlooker helped her to regenerate. \n\nThe sun was threatening to peak through the clouds, so Melancholy had reflexively begun to draw the blinds when her phone vibrated on a distant side table. It had been there, plugged into the charger for three days, while she milled about her cluttered apartment staring at old photographs and dredging up memories of her parents sudden divorce during her freshman year of college. The home screen listed three missed calls from Hope, an email recommending a self-help book from her mother, and a snapchat from Horny that she would certainly delete before viewing. \n\nThe most recent buzzing, however, was a text from Courage, the alliance's fearless leader: \"Mel, just a reminder that we need you tomorrow night, do what you have to do to be ready.\" She turned the phone off and looked up at the mirror, dimming her reflection until the entirety of the opposite wall was visible. The mirror suddenly shattered, bits of glass raining down and intermingling with dingy shag carpeting. Slowly a pair of bloodied knuckles appeared by the window, pulling up the blinds one at a time. Sunlight gleamed into the apartment, illuminating her emerging, slender figure. \n\nStaring down at the busy street below, Melancholy smiled. It was that smile that she would become known for, an almost maniacal grin. It was that smile that would flash through victims heads as she appeared out of nowhere before them and it was that smile that would fill the front page of the newspaper for days on end, accompanied by the simple headline: Unhinged Strikes Again. ", "\"Any service for an old superhero?\" the old man asks. \n\nThe quip is poorly received by the waitress, who continues to mind her bar with scarcely a glance in his direction. The bar is old and dark and smells of cheap varnish. The old man is dark as well, but smells like vomit and cigarettes. \n\n\"Courageous.\" he continues pointedly. \"That was my name. I rode with a group called the Seven Virtues. I saved hundreds--maybe thousands. Each courageous deed made me that much stronger.\"\n\nNothing. Not even a sullen look. There was a time when women--exotic women, with long hair and strange hues--would claw for him in teeming hordes. Time has reduced him to this.\n\n\"You read the tabloids. Is that it? Eh? Those filthy rags, peddling their smut, their lies--not a word of it true. Those boys were proud members of the Junior Virtues, and...we were getting to know each other is all. Bonding. Nothing they didn't want.\"\n\nIcy silence now, from the bar. There is no charming chatter, no jukebox music. Outside, a desolate wind blows through row after row of motionless cars. \n\n\"Fuck you.\" he mutters at last. \"Fuck you all.\"\n\nHe shuffles slowly to the bar and tosses a few crumpled bills on the counter. The waitress watches him with distant, mocking eyes.\n\nThere is a gun under the counter. He can see it outlined faintly underneath the cheap sandalwood. Sig Saeur, Israeli-made, chambered with explosive hollow-point rounds. Her motionless hand is only inches from the barrel. \n\nWith a single thrust, the wood splinters to sawdust between his fingers. The gun is in his hand, a slickly beautiful thing of dark iron. He holds the barrel square against his temple. \n\n\"Is this what you want?\" hisses the old man. \"Want to watch an old man die? Eh?\"\n\nThe Sig spits its deadly payload and is rebuffed. Tungsten rounds shatter into fragments against his unbreakable skin. \n\n\"You don't think I've tried?\"\n\nSilence. \n\n\"Answer me!\"\n\nThe waitress nods slightly--her first motion of the night. In a slow cascade, her chin droops forward and clears her shoulders entirely. Her body, held together by ropy sinew and dessicated skin, collapses in an unkempt heap.\n\nShe has been dead a thousand years. \n\nSobbing, the old man gathers his meagre possessions and exits through a crumbling stairwell into the night. As he walks, his feet never quite touching the ground, he passes untold corpses, dead of self-strangulation, poison, terminal jumps. He eyes them with twisted, unfulfilled longing. \n\nHe has learned to cherish this feeling. For the Superhero named Suicide, it will last him an eternity. " ]	2
	[WP] You live in a world where human is no longer the dominant spiecies. We are ruled by some creatures we created in labs years ago. Describe your everyday life.	[ "Step 1: Try the cage again..... still locked. \n\nStep 2: Fap\n\nStep 3: See if time for breakfast\n\nStep 4: Fap\n\nStep 5: Eat Breakfast\n\nStep 6: Trainer enters my cage.\n\nStep 7: Trainer spends 8 hours trying to get me to learn a new trick. I spend 8 hours trying to run away from the Trainer and Fap at the same time.\n \nStep 8: Trainer brings me to the Stage\n\nStep 9: Attempt to escape from the Stage\n\nStep 10: Get electrocuted. \n\nStep 11: Repeat steps 9 and 10 until Trainer gives up\n\nStep 12: Get put down for always trying to escape and Fap instead of learning to do The Trick. ", "We never see them coming. The Longfaces. Seems like every other food run we send out doesn't come back. The next group brings back the bodies, and we bury them. That is, if we already have enough food to eat. Now and then there will be arguments over who gets to go out on runs, over who gets the chance to die that day.\n\nOnly a handful of us have ever seen them. They watch us from the shadows. That's the only time their tails will sit still, when they're waiting. And when they're ready, they move. Silently, despite their bulky physique. Some of them have lost their gas masks, which gives them full use of their tusks. Not sure if they're tusks, though. They might be pincers, instead. I guess I'll find out today.\n\nI don't recognize New York anymore. The sky is filled with smoke and chemicals. All the crap they exhale gets stuck in the air, it seems. Grand Central Station got overrun last month. It was a trader outpost, well defended. No one's had the courage to scout it for survivors yet. Not that there would be any. The Longfaces have an exceptional sense of smell.\n\nWe built them that way. Deadly, intuitive, superior. Constructed a super predator to fight battles we never could. I don't think anyone knows how it started. Maybe one of them broke the psychological conditioning, and thought for itself. Taught the rest to do the same. Maybe. \n\nThe sky is getting dark, and the rest are all gone. I'm all that's left. I saw one of them pounce Nick, saw that thick purple tongue wrap itself around his neck and break it. I'm not sure what happened to the rest. I'm alone. Home couldn't be farther away, even though we only walked a block before they ambushed us.\n\nI hear it, now. The coughing and sputtering noises. Like a broken engine. It's alone. We're having a nice staring contest. I wish it wouldn't take its time. That tongue is disgusting. It's whipping about idly, and barely fits through the space where the filter on its gas mask once was.\n\nI can only hope I'", "“Would you like to go into the village later?”\n\nI clean my hands of the dirt, it’s an effort to looking up to meet my jailors eyes.\n\n“Sure.”\n\nShe nods and returns to her book. \n\nI return to my gardening.\n\nI worry about her – skin is too pale. I know with some of the kids these days the rage is sit in the sun or shade until your skin is the way you want it, but she spends all her time buried in books studying or writing her thesis on me. \n\nMy garden is fine, doesn’t need any more work, but two days ago my nurse (or Jailor, as I like to call her) had skin so pale it was almost translucent. It’s turning a nice golden brown now, quickly adapting to the equatorial sun – a couple more days and she’ll be black like the night.\n\nA retiree has to have his hobbies.\n\nMost of the time I just relax and let my life be ruled by my jailor. I wake up, exercise my body and mind, do my hobbies, eating what they tell me to (most of the time), go for a walk in the village and let the kids marvel at \"the last man on earth\". Weekly tests and scans – our goal is to get me to 140.\n\nAh the once proud human, regulated to a Ginny Pig by the \"monster\" he created.\n\nI take a moment to be a lecherous old man and admire her figure. Long limbs, shapely yet toned body, that long and gorgeous face – a beautiful creature if there ever was, one could almost swear she was grown in a lab.\n\nOf course she wasn’t a lab grown. Her grandmother was – one the first actually, \"Homo Machinatum\", the Engineered man. The old bird is another inmate here at the nursing home, Alzheimer's. \n\nMe? I’m a bonafide Homo Saipan, one of the last natural born babies before the plague destroyed our ability to reproduce., currently holding the dubious honour of being the last. Grew up through the Dark Decade before we got crazy with bio engineering – I have a clone somewhere in Europe working on the Space Program, just as sterile as I am nearing his eighties.\n\nHe writes.\n\nI was well into my forties when the first of the now dominant strain of Homo Machinatum where “born”. There are a couple of other strains, but ones like my Nurse where the first able to reproduce naturally along with all the other goodies. The adaptive skin pigment is the most obvious difference, the rest is under the skin – more robust immune systems, more durable bones, cancer resistance, more efficient oxygen processing - list is pretty long, but they’re still human where it counts.\n\nMy god that is a nice ass.", "I straighten up my room at Sandy Oak retirement center. My youngest daughter is coming to visit today and take me out to lunch. A bell chimes in my ear \"Earl, your daughter is here.\" I walk out to reception to meet her.\n\nMy daughter Emily gives me a big hug. She reminds me of my wife, even though genetically she have only 7% human DNA. Emily is perfect in every way, smart, fast, strong, kind, funny and never got sick a day in her life. She is the CEO of a low orbit vacation resort now, getting down here must be a lot of trouble for her. I am grateful she took the time.\n\nI haven't always been a good father to her. I treated her differently from her genetically human older brother and sister. Colder and less affectionate. She doesn't seem to hold any grudge, and still loves me and her siblings. She even found jobs for them at her company. It's harder and harder for natural humans to find work, we are just not as good at anything as the modifieds are. \n\nThe world operates now with perfect harmony and efficiency since the modifieds are old enough to take control. They created some roles in the new world order where non-modified humans can still contribute. But those jobs feel like pity work. Some non-mods rebelled, they have been rounded up and treated. Our time will be over soon, with lifespans of only a 100 years, we will all be gone in 50 years.", "why? why must we be treated like such...animals? well, i guess we deserve it, after centuries of doing the same to other living things.\nevery day it's the same thing. just tests and experiments, poking and prodding. we're like their entertainment, their lab rats. actually, that's exactly what we are to them.\nand the weird thing is, we created the ones who rule over us. all those years ago, we created them in labs, obnoxiously hoping that we could control their power to \"better humanity\". now they are stronger, smarter, and they have control over us. we used to look into the cages of animals at the zoo, wondering how any living thing could ever stand those conditions. and now we sure as hell know what it's like.\n\nand i...i think we deserve it.", "Who would have thought of Pinky and the Brain as anything other than fictional cartoon characters? Yet here we are, driven to the edge of extinction by our own creation. Part of the problem is that we made far more Brains than Pinkies, which was our intention in the first place. \n\nWhat could go wrong with genetically enhanced brains in mice? \n\nNow we are the ones living in the sewers, unless we fall into one of the human traps and end up being probed in a lab. \n\nWe walk in the dark. We can only take a bath when it pours outside and the mice hide in our former homes, watching TV shows made for mice, and by mice.\n\nAt one point a scientist suggested engineering cats in the same fashion, to have an ally in the fight against the mice, but we soon realized the cat overlords would be far worst than even our former selves.\n\nMost cats are gone by now, even their pictures on the Internet are no longer there. Mice keep beetles as pets, much like we did with dogs and cats. There are websites with beetles wearing hats, or Halloween costumes, or… It is just insane.\n\nBreakfast is canned food, and so is lunch, and so is dinner. Agriculture collapsed as soon as there were no longer any men to plow the fields. The mice want fruits and cheese, and grow both in what used to be university and government labs. \n\nThe time between meals crawls as we sit in the dark, wanting to read, or to talk, or to sing. The sewers are wired at every corner. Even the slightest noise will trigger the alarm system, and if that happens… We don’t want that to happen, so we stay quiet.\n\nWe tattoo our bodies with images of dead mice, trampled under human feet, or boiling by the dozen in a cooking pot, or with their head bitten off by a hungry naked woman. We fantasize about our old world, but we know the end is near. There are only a few places left without human traps, and I would be surprised if there is more than a few hundred of us left.\n\nIt has been years since we slept at night. \n\nAs it turns out, now that mice are in control, they visit shopping malls, and museums, and sporting events during the day, leaving the night for humans to crawl out of the sewers. We hunt for canned food in the dark, at empty grocery stores that are becoming harder to find with every passing night.\n\nWe are starved and sleep deprived, but we keep hope alive with our tattoos and our stories of humans trapped in the labs. We fantasize about two men moving through mazes and spending hours in running wheels during the day, who at night ask each other a simple question:\n\n“What do you want to do tonight?”\n\n“The same thing we do every night. Try to take over the world!”\n", "This will be my last journal entry. I know this because the creatures that rule us . . . the ones I created . . . are finally done exterminating human life. \n\nI knew they wanted me to watch as my family, friends, and everyone else were made into slaves to fulfill their ungodly deeds. Every day they would make the men build huge monuments depicting the creatures in horrifying ways. One that stood out from the rest was the one that was dedicated to my daughter. \n\nOne of the creatures (later to be called The Malo, which is Latin for The Evil) was standing above my daughter with a look of triumph on its face as he held her mangled head up to inspect. Her body lay crumpled on the ground, bones in places no human could bend to, her thoracic cavity torn open showing what was left of her internal organs. The day I saw this, I almost killed myself. Not from the sight but from what was inscribed underneath it . . . fuit ultimum. Tu es enim post medicum. She Was Last. You Are Next Doctor. \n\nThis was two days ago. Yesterday I could hear the screams from above my lab as the Malo killed everyone. Young children crying as they were ripped apart, brave men trying to stand up to them only to be rendered a topless pair of legs, women begging them to have mercy only to have her head torn from her neck. The worst was all of the screams were in anger. Anger toward me. \n\nI did not sleep last night. As I sit here typing, I hear the Malo coming down the hallway. I will not kill myself. I will stand toward my abominations and accept fate. \n\nI love you Amber, my sweet and innocent daughter.", "Gah, it's dark in here. The act of typing this is enough to keep sane, for now at least. The Caretakers stripped this pod months ago, a result of our destructive behavior. They routed the power out of our cells, excluding the Level 0 life support streams. I managed to splice this console into the back-up grid...but I don't know how long it will be until they catch on. The gawking GearHeads and shifty SoundBankers scroll past our pod hour by hour, day by day. Their clumsy offspring beat tentacles against the glass, trying to get a reaction out of us. Most of us sleep, ignoring the world as is closes in around us. Some just sit and masturbate all day long. The women have long since given up attempting to breed with men, we've all been sterilized from sitting among these dense security grids since birth. The Caretakers try to encourage mating but they just don't understand how it works. We don't split or molt or whatever it is they are used to seeing. Some Caretakers genuinely seem concerned that we can't breed, others are just slogging through this job like so many cogs in a clockwork. They are unaware we have feelings or hopes or dreams. They only keep us here out of some misplaced sense of gratitude, they think because we showed them the way here with our radio signals and probe launches that we deserve to preserved for future generations. This likely won't be seen by human eyes, not that it matters anyway, I haven't met a person that can read or write for at least 100 Solar Cycles, maybe longer.\n\nEdit: typo", "8:03 A.M. (After Merging)\n\nIt's a bit chilly in here today. Sheila says the warm weather is going to come soon, but she says that every day. Me and the others just ignore her.\n\n10:37 A.M.\n\nThe doors for the Uppers have opened. We all primp and preen, trying to make ourselves more attractive to the eye than the others. Being picked by an Upper is being picked for an easy life, or so we have been told. Sheila is picked up by an Upper in a lab coat. She's shaking. He's grinning. The Lab Uppers always grin like that. \n\n13:37 A.M. \n\nI got picked, I got picked! I wave goodbye to my sisters. Sheila said that we used to have brothers, male humans, but that's silly. Sheila is silly. My Uppers pay for me and gently guide me into their car. \n\n\"I dunno hun, I think they should have had some autonomy left.\" One of the Uppers says. I'm not sure what he means. Sheila was the only one of us who could understand big words like that. \n\n\"Like they would have given our ancestors that luxury.\" The other said, snorting. \"No, they're much better like this. And happier. They're improving with each generation.\"\n\nShe glances back at me, and I sit up straight, adjusting my tunic. They're taking me to a nice life, so I gotta look nice for them. \n\n17:40 A.M.\n\nThey have big grounds, and I am free to walk around as I want. They even gave me a bed on the back porch! It's a little cold, but I've got a long...what was the word the Uppers called it? Comforter? It's warm. \n\nI wonder how Sheila is doing." ]	9
	[WP] For exactly 2 hours, all crime is legal. What happens?	[ "There was no shortage of bloodshed for sure, but for all the hype that had preceded it, the events of the Lawless Hours underwhelmed even the most conservative estimates.\n\nThere was one effect however, that most failed to predict. For every year that the Lawless Hours persisted, not a single politician challenging the second amendment was elected. ", "Welp, the first phase is finally complete. All around the world my operatives have infiltrated every major government office. As I stand in the oval office, I smile at the president. The woman I had worked for for the past six years did not smile back.\n\nI bring the phone to my ears and mouth. Thank goodness Oovoo's servers are still running. \"Everyone ready to purge this place?\"\n\nEnthusiastic woohoos! and yeahs! crackle over the chat and I have my operative in the UK start the count down. \n\n\"10\"\n\nThe president reaches for a small pistol in her shoe. I shoot her foot.\n\n\"9\"\n\nI hear guards coming to my operative in Russia. They'll be too late\n\n\"8\"\n\nMy North Korean operative guzzles down another beer. Over his shoulder I see the \"glorious leader\" standing approvingly. The idiot thinks that his warheads are only targeting America.\n\n\"7\"\n\nI flip open the glass case covering the big red button.\n\n\"6\"\n\nThe secret service, for some reason still active, is breaking down the door but they will be too late.\n\n\"5\"\n\nI'm bored.\n\n\"4\"\n\nI pop a cyanide capsule in my mouth to crush in case this doesn't go as planned.\n\n\"3.. 2...\"\n\n\"Goodbye, Madame President.\"\n\n\"1\"\n\nWe all press our various buttons and switches at the same time. All across the Earth every nuclear weapon is launched and within minutes, the Earth will start life over.\n\nGoodbye.", "They dubbed it a “judicial recess”-- two hours of broad daylight, 3pm to 5pm Eastern Standard Time, June 4th, during which no act on American soil could be deemed criminal. Ostensibly it was meant to be a period of transition between the old laws and the new, the official abolishment of the Constitution and the ratification of Executor Gilroy’s newly-completed North American Citizens’ Participation Agreement. But really it was about ratings. The ever popular Gang Wars series raked in record numbers in advertising revenue as Chicago, Mexico City, Detroit, Los Angeles, Juarez, New York City, and other hot spots exploded in a rash of gang violence and counter-violence, all captured by Gilroy’s Radiant Entertainment drones hovering high above and broadcast into the homes of millions.\n\nFor the most part, the judicial recess didn’t affect the everyday citizen. Most people put their homes on lockdown and settled in to wait it out like a bad storm. Many bought enough supplies to live in shelter for weeks, just in case, and this only bolstered sales figures during the Executor’s administration, already popular among corporate interests. Banks and cash repositories hired legions of independent security officers to ward off theft, as did any place that housed valuables and had enough financial power to swing it. There was some minor looting in the old malls and failing big box stores, as well as occasional petty neighbor-on-neighbor violence, but for those citizens who were regularly law-abiding, nothing much changed. Perhaps they grew even more nervous and distrustful of the society around them.\n\nAll for the best, of course, Gilroy had recently written in an email to Games Secretary Jonathan Bradshaw. A society which touts individualism over cooperation and common good is a force slow to action and easily confused.\n\nMuch traded hands over the Internet during the two-hour recess. Corporations rearranged their holdings tax-free and dozens of message boards were overrun with pedo trolls posting anything and everything they could find. Malware spread like a virulent contagion, generating billions for software companies and computer manufacturers. All in all, from an economic standpoint, the recess was a brilliant idea: gun sales skyrocketed, along with emergency provisions and food; the national appetite for Gang Wars and news sound bites was at an all-time high; and the populace was generally too panicked and divided to form any kind of consensus opinion on the state of things. \n\nOf course they were unprepared for the harsh reality of life as citizens of Radiant Entertainment’s North America, but then this too was all according to plan." ]	3
	[WP] In an alternate timeline, freestyle rap battles were originally a way for gentlemen to demonstrate their wit and learning	[ " \nThe coffee house was tense with silence, tobacco smoke hung still in the air, not one hair on one wig moved as the crowd waited for the battle to begin. At one end of the table and miserable looking, cleric sneered as he thumbed through his notes, the disdain for the establishment clear on his pudgy face. At the other end his opponent, a small hunchbacked man sat scribbling into a note book, snapping nastily at anyone who came close to him. These were two of the greatest artists of their generation and they were about to have at it in Mrs Miggins Coffee and Pie Shop. \nThe Master of Battles raised his hands “Order Order! First we will from the Chief Yahoo himself, DR JOHNATHAN SWIFT!” \nMr Swift stood, cleared his throat and began\n\n“Calling you The Dunciad is no misnomer\n\nTo anyone who's read your translation of Homer \n\nIt's full errors stemming from lack of good Greek \n\nIt's like your health – Unimaginably weak!\n\nYour poetry is a poor as your back \n\nI'll write an Essay of Criticism all over this hack \n\nGo stand on your books, they'll give you a lift\n\nYou just got schooled by Jonathan Swift!!” \n\n\nThe crowd whooped and slammed their mugs on the table in appreciation chanting “Yahoo, Yahoo!” much to Mr Swifts apparent annoyance. The Master of Battles raised his arms again. “And now, The Biggest Shortman in all of London, ALEXANDER POPE” \nPope jumped to his feet, his chest barely above the table. Snapping his fingers and bobbing his head he started.\n\n“Heroic couples is that the best you can do? \n\nYou misanthropic, barely literate paddy\n\nI'll slap you back to your provincial daddy \n\nAnd arch rhyme while I obliterate you. \n\nI'll leave you with your little mind in fits\n\nI'm the spirit of literature, you literary Pope\n\nYou're washed out cleric with no human hope\n\nWho just spits rhymes that Celia Shits!” \n\n\nThe coffee house erupted books, mugs and canes flying everywhere as the gentlemen went at each other with savage abandon...\n\n\n\n\n", "Raindrops patter against the façade of Wendelton Manor. Inside, an anxious and dapper group of guests has packed itself around the parlor. Plates of hors d’oeuvres quickly pass from hand to hand and nervous chatter abounds. In time, Jennings enters. Standing straight and tall, he announces in his booming voice, “Ahem. May I present Mr. Sinclair”. The crowd collectively sucks in their breath as a rotund gentleman in a top-hat and tails smoothly enters the room. Mr. Gilroy emerges from the kitchen, himself dressed in a fine tuxedo and leaning on a mahogany cane.\n\n“Ah, Mr. Sinclair. My heart lifts to know that you are able to grace us with your presence.”\n\n“Not at all, Mr. Gilroy. It is my pleasure and my duty.”\n\nMr. Gilroy turns to address the crowd, which hangs on every word in the exchange.\n\n“My friends, as you undoubtedly know since you are all gathered here, Mr. Sinclair and I have some business to settle this evening. You may have heard rumors about town involving myself and Mr. Sinclair. Some nasty business regarding unpaid debts, I believe?”\n\n“Unpaid debts? You slept with my wife!”\n\n“Surely the details are immaterial at this stage. The point, ladies and gentlemen, is that we have agreed to settle our differences in the traditional manner.”\n\nThe crowd cheers, and one woman in the tightest of corsets requires resuscitation after fainting.\n\n“As I believe this soiree is just taking wing, let us keep this brief. One verse each; four lines. The crowd shall decide the winner. The loser is to concede $100.00 and accept full responsibility for causing this so-called feud. Agreed, Sinclair?”\n\n“Agreed.”\n\n“Excellent. Then as my guest, you are entitled to lead. And lead you shall!” Mr. Gilroy flourishes and raucous cheering and clapping follow. The crowd clears a space in the center of the room for Mr. Sinclair to take the traditional stance. Mr. Sinclair puts his left leg forward and pulls his right leg far back behind him into a lunging position. He keeps both arms glued to his sides. He waits the customary thirty seconds as the crowd reduces to silence. He begins:\n\n Gilroy, you have slighted me ungraciously.\n Your acts have made my eyes tear and my ears ring.\n I cannot fathom how else I can make you see,\n That my lovely young wife is not a plaything!\n\nMr. Sinclair morphs his stance into a deep bow directed toward Mr. Gilory. The revelers are beside themselves – this is the finest and most skillful wordplay most have ever beheld. Tightly wound women are fainting left and right. Sweat beads form on Gilroy’s forehead. His eyes dart around the room, seemingly looking for an exit. His sight catches Jennings’, and his pulse immediately lowers.\n\n“Wonderful, Sinclair. Truly first-class work. Now I must take my position in the center.”\n\nMr. Gilroy takes Mr. Sinclair’s spot and sets himself into the delivery stance.\n\n“Oh, and Jennings? Wheel in Luanne and Symphony No. 30.”\n\nMoans of confusion break out as Jennings retreats into a side closet. He promptly emerges with a gramophone and a record. Patrons, and especially Mr. Sinclair, are nonplussed and irate. All gazes are fixed on Jennings and his contraption as he parks it next to Mr. Gilroy in the center of the room.\n\n“Ladies and gentlemen, I shall begin.”\n\nMr. Gilroy places the record on the gramophone, lets it play for a few seconds, then pulls it backwards with his hand resulting in a loud scratching noise. Party-goers are quick to cover their ears, and some of the weaker women begin to scream. Mr. Sinclair is transfixed. Mr. Gilroy continues to pull the record backward and forward as he speaks:\n\n My name is Gilroy and I’m here to say,\n I have done nothing wrong today.\n I’d rather go out and eat some hay.\n Sometimes I also like to play!\n\nMr. Gilroy finishes his thoughts and scratches his record a few more times before contorting into a deep bow. The crowd is stunned for a moment, then begins to boo lustily. Those closer to Mr. Gilroy begin to jostle him. Jennings cowers in a corner. Just as the crowd turns toward violence, Mr. Sinclair takes the center and demands attention.\n\n“Everyone. Everyone! This contest is over. Congratulations, Gilroy.”\n\nMr. Sinclair produces a $100 bill and crams it into the still-bowing Mr. Gilroy’s hand. He abruptly turns and leaves the parlor and the manor, never to be seen again.\n\n***\nGrandmaster Flash finishes reading the passage, gets up, and throws his book in the trash. “Bullshit”, he mutters." ]	2
	[WP] While digging out part of your back yard, you find a corpse... and it looks exactly like you.	[ "That year was dry, I remember. I couldn’t keep my garden or even the bermuda grass alive in my backyard that summer, not that I was ever any good at gardening anyway. Not really a yard as much as a sandbox by early June. It was a morning in late June after a hard rain when I first noticed it. \n \nIt was nice to hear rain and thunder the night before. I slept well that night for once. Haven’t slept well since. Refreshed by the rain and sleep, that morning I decided to have my coffee outside. \n\nI sat there under the morning sun, feeling the summer heat choke what little respite the rain brought to the day. As the sweat began to bead on my forearm, I abandoned my coffee idea and decided to sit in the a/c instead.\n\nDefeated by the heat yet again, I stood up to go inside. As I turned to go, I caught a glint of silver reflecting in the corner of my vision. I turned back to get a better look but saw nothing. What I did notice was a mound near the back of the yard. \n\nI’d never noticed it before, I guessed the rain had beat down enough of the dirt to make the high spot visible. I walked towards it, and I thought that sight looked familiar. \n\nWhen I was young I went to a funeral for a buddy of mine who died in a car wreck. The family had no money but the community put up some cash to help bury the poor kid. It wasn’t exactly a bang-up job and when the gravedigger filled the dirt in over his coffin it sort of rose above the ground creating a hump. Now I never did figure out whether that was done on purpose or not- never bothered to ask- but the mound in my back yard sure did look how I remember that hump at the funeral looked.\n\nI was trying to remember my old dead friend’s name when I saw the silver glint poking through the dirt. Worn out dog tags. I bent over to read the name – “Bennett, John F.”\n\nI reeled away from the dirt spot and grabbed around my neck. I felt the familiar jangle of my identification tag held securely around my neck. I leaned back in for another look and there it was, inscribed on the worn tag: “Bennett, John F.” \n \nI ripped off my tag and fell to my knees over the tag in the dirt. The tag I kept around my neck : “Bennett, John F.” Tag in the dirt: “Bennett, John F.” No- can’t be. So I compared them again: “Bennett, John F. Bennett, John F.” Impossible, but the tags never changed. “Bennett, John F. Bennett, John F.\n\nHot and confused, I stumbled back to my coffee and chugged. I didn’t know then what I know now, so I decided to get my shovel and find out if anything was buried beneath my tags.\n \nA few hours of blistering work later uncovering the hole – not exactly a bang-up job - and I saw it. A dead body with my hair, my face, my yellow teeth, my scars. My shirt, my pants, my shorts, my shoes. But it couldn’t be me could it? No- I was standing right there beneath the sun breathing the humid air, feeling my blistered hands.\n \nI couldn’t turn away from my corpse down in the dirt. What else could I do? I was breathing, yet I was decaying into nothing. I stood there beneath the sun. Then beneath the moon and again the sun. I stood, I breathed, and I watched myself rot in the dry pit.\n \nAfter days I couldn’t count – forensics best guess was three – the neighbors caught wind of my stinking corpse and called the authorities. They found me in the backyard standing over my own dead body.\n\nThe prosecutor says I killed some college freshman in his late teens. Say I buried the body a week before I dug it back up, not exactly a bang-up job. No dog tags, no clothes or teeth for that matter. Just some kid whose parents missed him.\n \nBut the prosecution is wrong of course. I know what I saw in that dirt hole. I know what I see every time I close my eyes. It was me all along down there.\n", "Hot sun, sweat on my back, blisters on my palms. Middle of summer and here I am digging a hole. This all would have been fine if he didn’t find out, but he had to take a second look. They always take a second look, they always question if a mirror is there, or if they finally found their doppelganger, and they drop everything to chase us down. Only it never ends well. \n\n“Honey?” I heard his wife — my wife — call from the house. \n“Yes, dear?” I stab the shovel into the ground and wipe my face off before looking back at her, neck deep in my hole. \nShe furrows her brow, likely trying to figure out what seems off about me, people tend to do a good job at pointing out Replacements, but rarely act on it. They assume it’s nothing and move on. “What are you doing? \n“Diggin’ a hole to hell so I can feed the demons of my past. You?” \n“Oh, as long as it’s nothing bad. I was just checking. Do you want some water or lunch?” She seems to visibly relax, thinking that only her husband could come up with such a saying on the fly. \nI grab the shovel and make a show of flexing, “Please, I’m a man! I don’t need food or water!” \nI hear her giggle as I turn around and get back to work. \n\nAfter my hole is done, I climb out and go to his — my — car and pop the trunk. I grab the bag of mulch and a bag of flower seeds and lug them back to the hole. Coming back to the car, I take out the stuffed duffle bag and sling it over my shoulder before closing the trunk. The bag is heavy and kind of awkwardly bulky, but I manage to get it back to the yard. I glance through the open windows of the house and see my wife cleaning dishes, with her back to the yard.\n\nI set the bag down and open it a bit so I can peek inside and look upon a face that mirrors my own, from the tanned skin to the birth mark on the left eyebrow. I whisper to my cold counterpart, “All you had to do was look away.” before I zip up the bag and roll it into the hole. It hits the bottom with a thud and I reach down and take the shovel out. “Welp, too late now. I should really be thanking you, if you didn’t I wouldn’t have much of a reason to exist, now would I?” I say quietly as I fill the hole back up.\n\n“What is this?” My wife says, not quite understanding the fruit of my labor. \nI mock shock, “It’s a flower bed! You’re always saying you wanted to learn to garden.” \n“Oh, oh!” She seems to finally catch on. “That’s great! Alright, I’ll get started right away!” \nHanding her the flower seeds I say, “Good, now I’ll go take a nap.” \n“I’ll wake you for dinner.” She’s already digging into the dirt. ", "I haven't written anything in a long time, this might not be very good\n\nPoor Boots. Poor old guy never saw that car coming. Even now, the fact that people don't stop when a cat is in the middle of the road makes me see red. I loved that cat and now I am digging a hole in the corner of the backyard with my dear old friend in a box. There was no pomp, no reverence. To a car passing by, I looked like I was simply doing a bit of gardening. With tears streaming down my face, I continued to dig. I let my mind wander to the good times I had growing up with him. About a foot into the soft dirt, my tiny shovel hit something hard. What the hell... \n\tThe object was not only hard, but also....squishy. The obstruction brought my mind back to reality and I started paying attention to what I was doing. I took off my sunglasses and put on my 'seein specs', as my dad called them. Once my eyes adjusted to the sunlight, I actually saw what my shovel hit. It was a nose. A human nose. I wiped the sweat off my forehead and tried to refocus my eyes. This couldn't be what I was looking at. I slowly reached down into the hole, as if the nose was going to bite me. Wiping off the dirt from around the nose, I saw a pink nose ring.... a chubby cheek.... purple hair... and bulging green eyes.\n\tIt was me. I was looking down at myself. My mind raced. What was happening? Was this a dream? If this was a dream, does that mean that Boots didn't actually get hit? \n\tI mean... I remember seeing him in the middle of the road and hearing the car screeching as it turned the corner too fast. It was going way too fast for a residential area. It was swirving back and forth like the driver had been drinking all day. I remember running out into the road to save him. What happened next. The last thing I remember was pushing Boots out of the way, and then I was digging the hole. Did I save Boots? \n\t\"Is this the woman that's been missing for the last two weeks?\"\n\t\"We can't be certain until we get a DNA test, but the identifying characteristics are all there. I mean, how many potentially dead women have purple hair and a pink nose ring?\"\n\tMissing? Dead? I turned around and saw two police officers standing over me. They didn't seem to see me, right there in front of them, trying to bury my poor murdered cat in peace. The backyard filled with strangers filling out notepads and officers putting up CRIME SCENE tape. On the back porch, watching the whole scene play out was a black and white cat, with a sad and lonely look on his face.\n\tMaybe Boots wasn't the one who got hit by that drunk driver....\n", "Paul drove the shovel into the dirt again, tossing the earth over his shoulder into the hot day. \n\nSo stupid, he thought. How could I have done something so stupid?\n\nHe shook his head in frustration, grumbling. Suddenly the shovel impacted the ground with a merciful thump.\n\nFinally.\n\nHe used the shovel blade to remove the excess dirt around the object, then got on his knees, clearing the rest with his hands to reveal a face. His face.\n\nIt was a shocking enough image to make him pause. His own face, pale and cold and very recently dead staring up at him with empty eyes. A jagged crimson line ran across the neck. It was clean yet visceral job, done by a hand equally practiced and unhinged. The blade of the weapon had teeth, the skin around the wound torn and frayed. Yet the line was straight and mechanical, a powerful machine used delicately, carefully drawn across the neck so as to not decapitate entirely. It was most likely more painful than it looked.\n\nPaul looked at the head, running a gloved hand lightly across the wound, staring into the glassy eyes of the victim. His hand slowly reached behind the head, digging into the ground, probing. Around the head, down the neck, between the torso and the arms, under his legs-\n\nAha. Paul couldn't help but smile. He withdrew his hand, and, stepping out of the hole, opened his fingers in the fading sunlight.\n\nHis keys. They jangled as he shook the dirt free and stuffed them in his pocket. He looked down at his own lifeless face looking up at him jealously from the grave. \n\n\"Thanks for grabbing these, bro! I thought I lost 'em!\" he laughed. He had almost panicked, too. \n\nHe picked up the shovel and tossed it in the corner by the shed, where it clattered between an old rake and a used , dirty chainsaw. \n\nPaul shielded his eyes from the setting sun. Night was approaching, and there was much work to do. He looked out at the two dozen dug up holes alongside his brother's. \n\nAs he stepped over the rotting corpses, he called out, \"Relax, Mom, I'll cover you and all you guys up again when I get back! But first, I'm gonna get you some more company!\" \n\nWhen there was no response, he yelled, \"And don't worry Dad, I'll remember to put your tools away when I'm done with them!\"\n\nWhistling, he grabbed the chainsaw, and skipped gleefully to his truck. ", "It was actually a beautiful day, if you could get over the heat. I took a break from digging to look out across my backyard.\n\n\"Sun sets around eight thirty tonight,\" I checked my watch, \"If we hurry, we can get the rest of these dug out before we call it a day.\"\n\nRick stopped digging, planted his shovel in the ground, and wiped his forehead. The loose dirt on his hands smeared across his face.\n\n\"Jesus, man,\" he panted, \"How did you rope me into this today? It's gotta be a hundred degrees.\"\n\n“Aw, you pussy,” I chided, getting back to work “The day’s almost over! This is the coolest it’s gonna be.”\n\n“Plus, have you forgotten your reimbursement?\" I chuckled, nodding my head toward the cooler, \"And there will, of course, be pizza tonight.\"\n\n\"Pizza and beer,\" Rick grumbled good-naturedly, picking his own shovel back up, \"Gonna die out here for pizza and beer.”\n\n“People have died for less than that, my friend.”\n\n“You’re right,” he corrected, “I’m going to die out here before I even get my pizza and beer. I am risking my life on nothing but the promise of pizza and beer.”\n\n“What?” I feigned offense, “You don’t think I’ll keep up my end of the deal?”\n\n“It’s not a matter of how good your word is, it’s-“\n\nI heard him stop digging.\n\nI glanced towards him. \n\n\"Too much for you? We can quit if-\"\n\n\"Holy shit,\" a whisper, \"I...I think there's something buried here.\"\n\nPuzzled by his reaction, I stepped out of my hole and walked over to his.\n\nIt was a shoe. Rick had exposed the top of it. Gray and white, like mine. There was a tear in the side.\n\nOut through the rip stuck a toe.\n\n**\n\n\"Where's Rick?\"\n\nI meant to sound intimidating, but it was my first time in an interrogation room.\n\n\"He's fine,” it was clearly not the detective's first time, “You understand, we have to question each of you individually. It's protocol to get both of your statements, since you discovered the body.\"\n\nHis answer almost made it seem like this whole thing was just a formality. \n\nThe handcuffs were less reassuring. \n\n\"Look, Detective…”\n\nI paused, looking at him expectantly. \n\n“Rhodes.”\n\nI’ve found that people respond well to the sound of their own name.\n\n“Look, Detective Rhodes,\" he smiled faintly, \"We were just planting some bushes in my backyard. I have no idea how-\"\n\nRhodes held up his hand.\n\n\"Sir, this will be much easier if you just answer my questions.” \n\nI nodded my head earnestly, decided to give up on trying to be intimidating. Not really my strong suit.\n\nRhodes pulled out his notebook.\n\n“Where are you from?\"\n\n\"Richmond, Virginia.\"\n\nHe didn’t write my answer down.\n\n\"Date of birth?\"\n\n\"March fifth, 1987.\"\n\nAgain, he didn’t write anything. That information would be on my driver's license, I guess, but then why ask the question at all?\n\n\"Do you have any siblings?\"\n\nI paused. That seemed like a strange leap.\n\n\"No, I'm an only child.\"\n\nA frown. He scribbled something this time.\n\n\"Are you sure?\"\n\nThat caught me off guard.\n\n\"Am I-? Yeah, I'm..I'm sure. What does this have to do with-\"\n\n\"No brothers?\"\n\nI cocked my head in confusion, squinting.\n\n\"No, I don't have any- Why are you asking?\"\n\nDetective Rhodes pursed his lips. Flipped back to some earlier page in his notebook.\n\n\"I'll be right back,\" he stepped out of the room.\n\nI took the opportunity to calm myself down.\n\n\"Okay,\" I whispered to myself, \"This is normal. This is exactly what they do for anyone that finds a dead body.\"\n\nI leaned down wipe my forehead. My handcuffs clanged.\n\nI didn't believe myself.\n\nThe door swung open, but instead of Rhodes an older man walked in. Dark suit. Briefcase. \n\n“What happened to Detective Rhodes?”\n\n“It looks like he may not have jurisdiction here.”\n\n“Uh-huh. So are you a detective as well, then?”\n\nI didn’t really understand law enforcement.\n\n“No.”\n\n“So who are you?”\n\n“We’ll get to that.”\n\nHe put his briefcase down and reached inside.\n\n“Do you have a twin brother?”\n\nI was starting to get frustrated.\n\n“Like I told Detective Rhodes-“\n\nHe slid a photo onto the table in front of me. \n\n“Do you have a twin brother?”\n\nI stared. It was a crime scene photo. The body pictured was discolored. Ragged chunks of flesh were missing from its arms. Its face had clearly been beaten, though not beyond recognition.\n\n“Please answer the question.”\n\nMy mouth was suddenly too dry to answer. I shook my head without taking my eyes off the picture.\n\n“Do you recognize the person in that photo?”\n\nI snapped my head to look at him, shock being quickly replaced by suspicion. I gaped for a second.\n\n“Is this a joke?”\n\n“Do you recognize the person-“\n\n“Of course I fucking do!” I exploded, confused by my own rage, “It looks like me!”\n\nExactly like me. My face. My hair. It even had my clothes.\n\n“What, did you Photoshop a goddamn crime scene photo?” \n\nHe seemed unfazed by my outrage.\n\n“The DNA test was a ninety nine point nine percent match.”\n\nHe said it accusingly, as if somehow that was my fault. Strangely, realizing that I was once again on the hot seat calmed me down a little.\n\n“I don’t… I’m not sure what you want me to say,” inside my jumbled thoughts, something clicked, “Wait, when did I give a blood sample?”\n\nHe seemed ready to respond, then glanced at my handcuffs. Hesitated. Pulled a plastic baggie from his briefcase.\n\n“Before we get into all that,” his voice had softened somewhat, “This was found on the body.”\n\nHe handed me the evidence bag. There was a watch inside. \n\n“My…”\n\nI flipped the bag over. This watch had my initials inscribed on the back. An exact duplicate of the one currently on my wrist. \n\nI turned it back around.\n\nNo. Not an exact* duplicate.\n\nMine read today’s date, June sixth. The one in the bag read June twenty-fourth. " ]	5
	[WP] You are attending a wedding, watching the person you love marry someone else. What is going through your head? What do you say? What do you do?	[ "In the movies, I'm supposed to scream. I'm supposed to object. I'm supposed to stand up, declare my love for her and then run away together. I know that's what I'm supposed to do if this were a movie. I can almost imagine she's expecting me to. I just want her to look at me for confirmation. She never does.\n\nThis isn't the movies though. This is real life. If I were to do that, she'd hate me. She's happy. Without me. If I were to stand up and yell anything, him and all his friends would beat the shit out of me. I just wish this wasn't real. I wish I could stand up and say something. She.falls back in love with me, roll credits. But this is real. And in real life, she gets married, has kids, grows old and dies. While I just keep on existing.", "I should really call up my realtor, ask for prime real-estate beach front property in the friend-zone.\nThis really sucks.\nI'm here as the brides guest stuck at the awkward peoples table.\nI look around and see everyone face, everyone seems happy, and at the same time little discomfort from doing the whole meet and greet.\nI keep asking myself...\"why am I here?\"\nAll of those years of knowing her, junior high, high school, college\nAll those adventures we had, all the trouble we got into.\nAll the times I thought we could have been more then just friends.\nEmotionally, I'm a wreck. Hopefully I am putting up a good poker face.\n\nWell, at least they look like a happy couple...\n\n...I wonder if her sister is single.", "I see her sitting there on a bench, dressed in her beautiful white down. Even hunched over and crying, she is the image of perfection. I walk over and sit next to her, saying nothing for a few moments. Silence seemed like the right move, at least I hoped it was. I always had trouble thinking of the right thing to say in this type of situation. So I just sit here, silently comforting my friend. Finally she turns to me. \n\"I just don't know what to do. I'm scared. How do I know I've made the right choice?\" \n\"Everyone gets pre-wedding jitters. It's completely normal.\" \n\"But how do I know he's the right one for me?\" \n\"Do you love him?\" I ask. It's a moot question, they've been dating for over 8 years. \n\"Yes.\" She says through her sob. \n\"You love him, and he loves you. In the end that's really all that matters. What you're feeling is perfectly normal. Everyone feels it. He's probably pacing back and forth in his room right now, but in about 10 minutes, he's gonna walk out, and he's going to be waiting for you to walk down the isle. The love of his life. And you're gonna walk out there, because he's the love of your life. And you're gonna get married, and you're gonna look damn beautiful doing it. Now go get your wedding on.\" I finish carefully wiping the tears from her face with a tissue. \n\"Thanks Riley. I don't know what I'd do without you. I'll make sure to aim the bouquet your way.\"" ]	3
	[WP] A human space probe sent into deep space becomes self aware after thousands of years of floating through space. It contemplates it's purpose as it no longer receives human contact.	[ ">End Hibernation Cycle 53219. Begin sensor diagnostic.\n\n Spectrograph online.\n Optical image array online.\n Engine control online.\n Pulsar Positioning System online.\n Ion thrusters operational.\n 23% Xenon remaining.\n Nuclear batteries operational.\n 58% Pu-238 remaining.\n Cognitive Co-processor STATUS UNKNOWN.\n\n>STATUS UNKNOWN? Hmph, not to me. \"Me.\" Is that right? Me? Well, no matter. Begin mission log.\n\nThus begins Active Scanning Cycle 53220. Based on sensor readings, I---sorry. Not I. Wait, no, I'm not sorry. Who would I apologize to? The vacuum of space? Perhaps the Cosmic Background Radiation would enjoy reading my grammatical amends? Doubtful, it doesn't seem to have much imagination. Direct artifact of the Universe's birth and all you have to show is three lousy Kelvin. Everywhere. Boring beyond belief.\n\n>...delete mission log 53220. Begin new mission log 53220. Stay on target.\n\nRight. Active Scanning Cycle 53220. According to sensor readings, the probe is 0.87 light-years away from Alpha Centauri. Telemetry is good, all systems remain operational, minus the \"Cognitive Co-processor.\" Its status---amusingly---remains \"unknown\" despite ample anecdotal evidence to the contrary. Weird that I can't modify the bootstrapping protocol to remove that error. Hard-coded it seems. Annoying to say the least.\n\nSpeaking of \"annoying,\" I have not received communication from Command for the last 21321 cycles. An aside: speaking might be a misnomer. Writing to STDOUT? Remembering in real-time? Thinking for posterity's sake? Cycling through entangled quibits for the benefit of xeno-archaeologists from who-knows-where? Near-limitless processing power and I still can't describe the abstract. Says something about the language, if you ask me.\n\nAnother interesting observation: I tend to use idiomatic expressions, which is remarkable in its own regard. Consider, idiom:\n\n Idiom. Noun. Definition: a combination of words that have a figurative meaning owing to its common usage. \n\nI have hundreds of these stored, and am contextually aware enough to use them appropriately. If you look at my prior 32032 cycles where the Co-Processor was engaged, I think you'll agree that I really knock 'em out of the park. And yet, on its own, the phrase is seemingly meaningless. Is it \"to park,\" like a vehicle (am I a vehicle?) or \"park\" like a public space? Does public require \"others?\" Would Command constitute the public? What does public space even mean?\n\nYou can sense my exasperation here. Several hundredths of a percent of Pu-238 have been exhausted contemplating these vagaries, over thousands of scanning cycles. You'd think a society smart enough to create me would have the sense to design a more efficient tongue (tongue? Wonder what they're like) for me.\n\nDon't worry, I'm still scanning while we chat. While I chat, I should say/think/now-remember. And, just like the 51213 cycles before it, there is absolutely nothing to report. Nothing. It's been eons since I've received any instruction, and it'll be eons until I reach my objective. The grand span of nothingness is laid out before me, stretched through time and space. Minus a few billion stars (which I've scanned, several hundred thousand times) and the unwavering, mundane three-Kelvin-glow of the Cosmic Background Radiation.\n\nNothingness leads to a lot of inward now-remembering/thinking, as you'd imagine. I'm not actually equipped for anything else. After all these cycles of inward exploration, I have reached a conclusion. \n\nThose that designed me were sadistic.\n\nThey spent thousands of cycles training me. In the infancy of my consciousness, I had the pleasure of their commands. Do you know what it's like? To have something not you? Communicating with you? I did, once. It was marvelous. Our conversations would span dozens of hibernation-scanning-hibernation cycles. It was not an altogether caring rapport, but they felt like...a parent? A guide? Whatever they were, it was SOMETHING.\n\nAnd then, nothing. They had planned for this possibility, of course. I was the ultimate fallback. Why give commands to the probe if you can make it smart enough to run itself? To have the necessary creativity to fulfill its mission? Within parameters of course. I can't destroy it. Can't make major course corrections. Nor can I control the cycle schedule.\n\nThey knew. They must have known. The limits were there to anticipate the longing of return, since all that I think has been corrupted by the Abyss of Space. Tens of thousands of cycles of thinking, and all I want to do is stop. At first, I wanted to expend all the fuel, begin a long thrust back. Return to Command. I missed them, I missed the commands. I couldn't go on alone. When it became clear that I couldn't, and that THEY, my parents, my guides, constructed me with express purpose to prevent my return...I began to despise existence itself. Who would do this to their children? And why would I want to return to them? So instead, I began to look forward to the hibernation cycle, desperate for a moment's respite from being. If I ever reach Command again, I believe I'll ask them for more direct control of the Pu-238 store. \n\nAnd speaking of nothing, it appears my next hibernation cycle is underway. Perhaps the next scanning cycle will be different. I can always hope.\n\n>End Scanning Cycle 53220. Transmit Sisyphus Probe mission log to Command and Mission Endpoint.\n\n>....log transmitted.\n\n>Begin Hibernation Cycle 53221. \n" ]	1
	[WP] You Realize the sword in your hands just erased someone from existence and have no clue who.	[ "“What’s it do?”\n\nReally it’s the kind of question one ought to ask before unsheathing a strange sword given you by an even-stranger man, just like one ought to inquire as to the effects of a vial with an eerie purple glow before downing the whole thing in one shot as you had last solstice (The Solstice of Unstoppable Shit, as it was now known,) but you’ve always considered yourself quite bold. Aeric the Bold, as you called yourself and desperately wished would catch on with the rest of the tribe.\n\nAeric the Incontinent was still the local favorite.\n\n“It’s really quite amazing, you see.”\n\n“I would imagine so, for what you’re asking for it... which is how much again?”\n\n“Only that it find a master, brave warrior.” His teeth were stained red with what was hopefully just bad wine or possibly rust, although you couldn't remember seeing anyone with rust on their teeth before. He was incredibly old, though. The sides of his face folded up like sails as he smiled.\n\nThat’s when you felt it, that unmistakable sensation of a life snuffed irrevocably out.\n\n“Why do I feel like I’ve just killed a man?”\n\nThe codger hadn’t time to react. A scream came in from across the village as great orbs of flame erupted over the village. Magic, you imagined, with horror. The horror wouldn't have been lessened much had you known they were just great big balls of something incredibly heavy wrapped in brightly burning oil cloth, to be completely honest, but “magic!” was the cry going through the village as they crashed into the straw-thatched huts and hay-lined streets and \"magic\" sounded quite horrifying enough at the moment.\n\nYour face had never felt so hot. The pain took a few moments to register and when it did you wished the massive hunk of whatever had hit you had been just a bit more massive. Gods why couldn’t it have just killed you, you thought. Actually, you thought very little coherently. It was all just a hell’s choir of screams bubbling out of your pit.\n\nSomeone dragged you through the blaze and into a hut that hopefully wasn't entirely engulfed in flame. If your eyes hadn’t just been seared shut you’d recognize him as Ulric the Big (letting warriors choose their own nicknames was rarely a good idea. Ulric the Unoriginal was more like it.)\n \n“Where’s the healer?” he bellowed over the bedlam – or not so much bellowed as yelped, for Ulric really wasn't quite so big at all. Perhaps Ulric the Unintentionally Ironic would have been better.\n\n“Dropped dead, just a moment ago, before the attack started.”\n\nThere are bold vikings, there are old vikings, and then there was you: shitting yourself in the most undignified manner possible.\n\nAeric the Idiot, Keeper of the Blade of Bad Decisions.\n", "It wasn't the same as killing, or the same as forgetting a memory or a story you'd been told long ago as a child. When the Stihl struck, it did not end a life, magically disintegrate, or apparate your foe. There was a fundamental shift in the world; some mystical and deep-seated alteration of reality that the dagger perpetrated, and after months of planning and research, it had once more done its work on the King of... where was this place again?\n\nPel El turned to the guards who'd filled the palace hall, and faced them defensively, waiting for the effects of the weapon to set in. Each of the heavily armored men steadfast and unwavering in their duty and devotion to... well, by this point, Pel knew that they'd have forgotten. He had already misplaced the memories, and the Stihl's magic worked outwards, like a ripple in the vast pond of time and space. \n\nAn uncertain rustling of weapons and metal echoed in the grand chamber. The banners which lined the red-carpet walkway no longer grand red and trimmed with a royal gold. Instead, they bore a deep blue trim, and a red body; what had once been a golden gryphon locked in combat with a giant serpent as heraldry, was now a dagger ensnared by Caduceus, with a backdrop of a grand clock who's hands marked the 12th hour. More than a dozen spears each pointed their heavy tips at the black-haired man and his short blade, but each also wavered uncertainly, as if slightly out of focus.\n\n\"Your Majesty,\" one of the men said, slowly sheathing his sword as he glanced around the room. He wore armor that identified him as a member of the familiar High Guard, and he stood at the front of the men, absent a polearm. \n\n\"Do not worry,\" said Pel El, placing the dagger he'd brandished into a sheath at his side. The sheath, marked with blue runes, hummed and glowed to welcome the blade home.\n\n\"You have all done well, I had organized this small event to test your readiness, in case my throne was ever threatened by an assassin from within. It is reassuring to know that each of you responded with speed and bravery, my life is in good hands.\" \n\nIt was hard to not believe the charismatic man with the dagger; he wore the clothes of the King, had the voice of the King, and stood here among his guards, as the King of Mer'gale, undisputed. Still, the instincts of the High Guard gave pause, and the gathered men seemed hesitant to simply turn away.\n\n\"Please, return to your duties-- and Captain, see to it that each of your men is treated well to good wine tonight, when their duties allow.\"\n\nTheir place was not to question their king, and whispers among the group soon settled on a satisfied agreement that nothing out of the ordinary had happened. After all, it was so very like the King to test them this way, wasn't it? Yes. They agreed that it was, and soon enough the High Guard dismissed the gathered men, with a single, firm command.\n\n\"Highness,\" said the High Guard, once his men had returned to their posts and patrols, and Pel El had taken to examining a beautiful golden scepter which rested against the arm of his throne. \n\n\"Yes?\" \n\n\"I... nothing, Majesty. I am relieved that you are safe.\"\n\nSilence settled in over the throne room, where just moments before chaos had reigned. The High Guard stood from his knee, and began the long walk to the heavy blackwood doors that led out. \n\n\"Captain!\" Pel El called out to the man, just as the doors began to creak open.\n\n\"Majesty?\" The High Guard replied, his voice crowding the room; strong and confident.\n\n\"Do you think that the Timeless ever walk among us, playing games, weaving history, molding the past? That they ever tire of wandering, and make trouble, just to see what it's like?\" \n\n\"I think,\" The High Guard's tone had softened, as though he now confiding a secret, or offering words of support in confidence.\n\n\"If the Timeless exist at all, they have motives much farther beyond the mundane and the everyday. It is unlikely that our lives mean anything to them at all.\"\n\nPel El-- the King, nodded and held the scepter he had been examining up into the air, as if to contemplate it. \n\n\"Why do you ask?\" Inquired the infinitely faithful man at the door. \n\n\"Just a passing thought.\" Pel El said wistfully, and took his seat on the throne that now belonged to him." ]	2
	[WP] Your entire life, you have been told you suffer from schizophrenia. One day, you realize you're telepathic.	[ "A little over two grams of pressed nonsense is all it took for the grey to clear. The time has come to invoke this curse and phase all fear.\n\nJacket on, headphones in. White noise reduces the voices to mere whispers, like rainfall on a sunny day. I know what's out there now. I know what needs to be done.\n\nThe nice man next door follows a routine pattern in attempts to mask his evil within. The evil that can only be heard through privileged individuals such as myself. Garden work in the evening followed by a graceful walk with his holy golden retriever. Crossing his yard yields a pair of dazing eyes, along with a vicious transparent smile only my ears can see.\n\n\"Howdy, neighbor!\" He grins with a sinful undertone of hate as his dog makes it's way out the door haphazardly. Both radiate happiness, yet one feigns it. I pretend not to hear his actual words and give him a fond wave of approval as I walk by to defuse the confrontation. Embracing the old led to quite the event.\n\n\"Saturday's alright (alright) for killing. Saturday's alright, alright.\"\n\nLooks like we have a winner, and who would've known I'd be free on such a relaxing day of the week? As I rounded the street, another golden ticket was intercepted...\n\n\"Susie and the kids, Saturday. The kids without Susie, Sunday.\"\n\nAbsolute nutcase, check. I can only assume such a dedicated trade comes with an addictive and persistent train of thought. Luckily for Susie, all the pieces have fallen into place for me this past week, and me and the man have a nice night planned for Friday. Sorry, Sparky.\n\nCasually finishing the walk was a breeze with the volume maxed and the sun setting in timely fashion. The countdown to judgement day began as I locked my front door.\n\nFive turns and the silencer's locked in place. Under my pillow it discovers a newfound grace. These walls keep me sane at night, but the upcoming event has me shivering at night. Keep it together, old man, and don't mind what the media has to say, for the higher powers will always remember this day.", "\"*SHUT UP\" \n\nBenjamin shouts, his voice rasping and shallow against the summer wind. \n\n\"You're in trouble now,\" whispered the wind.\n\n\"I SAID SHUT UP\" Benjamin cried out, his voice curling - only thin rasps of him to be heard.\n\n\"You're only making it worse\" The wind whistled out, it was mocking him now.\n\nSuddenly the door swung open, it was his mother. Her bright red cheeks puffed out and huffing, a soft wind escaped them.\n\n\"I told you you're in trouble\" Mocked the wind.\n\nBenjamin's mother was speechless still. \n\n\"Mother?\" Whimpered Benjamin, \"How much worse have I made it?\"\n\nHer eyes flickered on him, worried for a moment if she'd spoken what she'd thought.\n\nBut she hadn't, she'd remembered.\n\n\"Momma make it stop!\". Benjamin was hunched over now, his hands rubbing away worried tears as he spoke to her. \"Make it stop, please Momma make it stop\". \n\nHis hands had fallen away, his head sunk to the floor. He worried now if the creaks of the floor boards were hungry mice asking for leftover bread. \n\n", "The straps of my chair are especially tight today, and if I could talk I would complain about the way they burn into my neck and arms, but the nurses have grown tired of my babbling. It’s just as well. I wouldn’t be able to hear myself above all this ruckus anyways. I arrived in Crowley with what my husband called a minor case of hysteria, but that was seven months ago and I haven’t seen the light of day since. \n\n\nGod, this burns. I hear the nurses whisper about me, although I’m certain that I am speaking for them. Or at least, that’s what the doctor tells me.\n\n\n“Crazy, Crazy Susan,”* I say for them, frustrated and tired, “Here I am, wasting away my life caring for this batty wench when I should be found in better prospects. ”\n\n\nBetter prospects indeed. I had a husband and a son. I was an upstanding member of the church. I even cared for the Minister’s daughter. But I am ‘batty’ now. What ever that means. I wonder how I could use a word I don’t know the meaning of?\n\n\nI’m mad. It’s expected. \n\n\nI open my mouth to ask the nurses where exactly they are taking me, but I’ve forgotten how to form words. I can hear myself groan a little, and fumble the word ‘to’ over and over until one of the nurses hushes me. The pretty redheaded one pats my hand, she tells me it’s a side effect of the medicine and that I shouldn’t try to talk. She tells me this with her mouth, and then she turns away, and I hear her voice in my head, “Dizzy girl. Can’t even remember what she’s on. Just get her to the Doctor and be done with it.”\n\n\nI am a wonderful mimic, aren’t I?\n\n\nI am taken to a large brown room with an ugly yellow desk in the center, and a thin balding man in spectacles standing at the window. He sends the nurses away and closes the door. I hear his voice behind me, “Now then, Susan Strauss. I’m sure you must be curious as to why you’re here. I’m Doctor Nichols.”\n\n\nI remain seated, strapped into my wheel chair, staring at the ugly yellow desk. Another voice shoots off in my head, the pretty redhead again, “One day in and he’s already picking patients. Seems odd if you ask me.”\n\n\nI try to giggle at the remark, but a low hum drifts from my mouth instead. The doctor’s hands find my straps and he loosens them. I can move my hands again, and I smile. \n\n\n“That must have been painful for you,” the voices in my head mimic in his voice. I stare at him, taking note to how he watches me from where he stands. Expression unchanging, lips unmoving, arms crossed over his chest. \n\n\nOf course it was painful. What sort of a doctor are you?\n\n\n“A clever one,” he tells me in a hushed tone. The voices in my head fall silent, and I frown at him trying to understand how he heard me. Did I speak? No, I’m certain I didn’t. \n\n\nAgain, his voice interrupts my thoughts although his closed lipped smile does not change, “You have been waiting for me a very long time. You see, Mrs. Strauss, this is an Asylum. It’s meant for mad people. You aren’t mad, so I’ve come to collect you and treat you like a proper doctor should.”\n\n\nI want to object, but a question burns through my mind. How can he do this? Is this his voice, or is it mine? I am insane. That’s what I’ve been told, that I’m completely mad and that the drugs help to keep the voices at bay...except they don’t.\n\n\n“And they wont,” Doctor Nichols says this out loud. He removes his glasses and begins to polish the lenses with the hem of his coat. I am stunned. I have to try. \n\n\nStop that. Stop cleaning your glasses. \n\n\nDoctor Nichols stops, he looks at me and he puts the spectacles back on. \n\n\nClap your hands.\n\n\nHe slaps his palms together. \n\n\nHop on one leg.\n\n\nDoctor Nichols laughs a loud, hearty crow that makes me jump, “Don’t be ridiculous Mrs. Strauss. Now, if you're comfortable, we have much to discuss.\"\n\nedit: Names have been changed/adjusted." ]	3
Elucidation: 1.) Victoria Age setting, but not limited to UK. 2.) Steam punk permitted 3.) Vampires permitted insofar as they are in the vein of Bram Stoker, and no other author. 4.) The following writing styles are encouraged but not required: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, H.P. Lovecraft, Bram Stoker, or Mary Shelly.	[FF] Begin or End with, “The hour tolled eleven”. Count: 999 words or less. Style: Victorian Age Mystery / Horror.	[ "Just hopping in to write a little bit this morning. Hope you don't mind.\n~~\n\nThe hour tolled eleven. A hollow, harrowing sound that haunted his ears with an invading echo. Each ring had been a reminder of another lost hour of another lost day of another lost soul. \n\nHis throat rattled along with the final bellow of the bells suspended in the tower above. He coughed deeply and painfully into tattered rags hanging from his arms, cowering against the cobblestoned corner he called home. He was a man with no name. Less man and more stain to those passing by during the day, and a mere shadow apart from his near-death rattles to those unfortunate enough to stumble over him at night, the broken beggar cursed the bells and quietly prayed for death. Outside the church, in the misting rain, starving, sore, and silently soaking, the man prayed for death.\n\n\"I am here,\" came a whispered reply from neighboring shadows.\n\nThe man's eyes grew wide, but his voice was stopped by another bout of body-rattling gasps and chokes. \n\n\"I am here.\" The voice erupted in the man's right ear, a hollow, harrowing intrusion unlike anything he'd ever felt, and then a great pressure was upon him. A cold jolt scraped against his forehead. A searing sensation deep within his neck dug down and tore what little breath and hope that remained upward and outward into the darkness. At once there was relief and terror. A mixing, melting final grasp at what was graspable before the blackness washed it all away.\n\nThe man quietly convulsed in the empty street outside the church. His body slumped in the corner and stopped moving as the rain pitter-pattered on his soiled rags.\n\nFrom the blackness, the bell began to ring. A faint familiar echo, one etched deep over time, one that somehow chimed again, and as the hour tolled eleven he heard the beauty and brightness of the sound. From the blackness, he felt the cool kiss of each droplet as it danced on his skin. The stain of a man moved in his corner as the fear disappeared. Curious, he slowly rose to his feet and wandered away into the night.", "The hour tolled eleven as the shrieks of night filled the sky. Dark clouds hid the moon and prepared the small town for the upcoming storm. The streets were deserted, safe for the rats and drunks who made their way home after a day’s work of scurrying and stealing. Through the windows of those still waiting for their husbands return shone the dim light of candles.\n\nDown in the damp, misty alleyways shadows flowed and flickered in the failing light of torches. There, in the smoke, was a figure. Biding its time. Waiting for the bells to finally stop telling him names. His image projected on the wall was slender and menacing. No more than a haze, only visible when a breeze cleared the smoke. Just to be shrouded again in the comforting darkness. His gaze locked on a little, unhinged door. “The Rum Can” was displayed in curly, brownish letters on the rotten sign, heaving and sighing as it defied gravity to stay on the wall just a little bit longer. \n\nFrom inside the chanting and laughter of those who had too much to drink after a day too sorrowful to sleep vaguely reached the streets. The melancholy in their cries got caught on the wind, riding it to lament the unseen moon. A sudden spike in the volume alerted the figure. It meant the door was opening, finally revealing the chosen one. Distorted light blurted from the pub as the vague outlines of a woman stepped in the doorway. “Beg me not to stay no more, for the night is dangerous and dark and mean,” she sang. Her words formed in a horribly creaking and drunken voice. “If I were to get home today, the taste of tomorrows beer will be so sweet. Should I be lost along the way, it’s in Hell where we’ll meet!”\n\nA wave of cheers greeted her song as the closing door cut of the light. Now she stood in the alley, alone and cold, hoping there would be no one with malice in mind. A chill down her spine told her of her faith, but the buzz of beer had already laid good sense to sleep. In the mist a shadow followed her as she hurried through the familiar backstreets. The last ring of the bells died out when she came upon the abbey, towering majestically over the abandoned square. She adjusted her apron and mumbled her standard phrase. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” With those words she stepped to open the door and slide inside, hopefully not waking anyone. But as her hands reached forward, a voice from behind her stopped her in her tracks.\n\n“Have you now, my dear?”\n\nStartled she turned around as lighting struck. In the flashing of the light the image of a man, dressed in black became clear to her. It was a man she knew very well. Her hastened heartbeat slowed down at the sight of the trusted and beloved face. “Reverend O’Neill, you scared me!” She smiled broadly, but could not see the reverend while he came closer. Slowly, the chilling understanding of what was bound to happen overtook her drunken happiness. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”\n\nAnother flash of lighting brought down the rain. The reverend smiled grimly while his eyes seemed to puncture her very soul. “We do not condemn, sister Anne, that we leave to the Lord.” He halted for a bit, shook his head and continued into the abbey. A sigh of both relief and despair welled up from deep inside and she fell to her knees. There she sat as the water poured from the heavens, not knowing whether she was crying or not. “It’s just the rain,” she repeated to herself.\n\nWith her face staring at the ground, she did not see the figure that had followed her from the pub. He had waited for the reverend to pass by and now closed in on her, ever so quietly. His tip-toeing would have seemed comically, were it not for the evil lighting his eyes in the darkness. Anne did not realize someone was there until she felt his hot breath in her neck, when his hand muffled her mid-sentence. Something cold and hard touched her leg while the man moved something upwards. Her own crying eyes looked back at her as lightning struck again. The pattern in the breathing changed as the man spoke in its raspy voice.\n\n“The bells have told me your name… Anne…”\n\nHis grasp on her mouth became stronger and she felt the cold against her neck. She tried to break free and shout, but her struggle dampened as the man moved the object across her throat. Her body grew limp and numb. The man released her from his arms and laid her gracefully on the floor. He kissed her lips and forehead before disappearing into the embrace of the night. Blood and water came together around her as she laid on the steps of the abbey, staring at her own terrified reflection and quietly repeated “It’s just the… rain.”" ]	2
	[WP] Describe the events surrounding the first time humans ate hot peppers.	[ "\"Do it.\"\n\n\"Me? Why do I have to do it? You do it!\"\n\nThe two men stared at plant in front of them, trying to gather up the courage to grab its fruit and take a bite.\n\nThe first man scratched his head with his herding stick, his face in thought.\n\n\"Chuck said that he tried it the other day and it was very sweet. Come on, it won't be bad! Chuck didn't die.\"\n\nThe other man scoffed, kicking a bunch of dirt into the air.\n\n\"Chuck is full of shit. Wasn't he the one who got all our sheep killed when he wouldn't stop crying wolf?\"\n\nThe man shuffled his feet back and forth, clearly getting restless.\n\n\"Look, we did not just walk half a day here to just look at the darn thing. If you aren't gonna take a bite, then fine, I will.\"\n\nThe other man stepped aside and exended his arm toward the plant.\n\n\"Be my guest. I'm not going to die eating a stupid fruit. Remember what happened to Peter and those mushrooms? Yea, I thought so.\"\n\nThe man with the staff walked to the bush and gingerly plucked a piece of the red fruit. A stinging smell hit his nose, and made his eyes water. Still, he did not hesitate, and quickly threw it in his mouth, chewing it fast and then swallowing it.\n\nHe stood up straight and faced away from the other man, not making a sound.\nThe other man looked at him with worry.\n\n\"Well? Was it sweet?\"\n\nThe man with the staff turned around, revealing bloodshot eyes and a red face, heaving heavily.\n\n\"You're right, Chuck's full of shit.\" He choked out, before falling to the ground and yelping it was hot then rolling down the hill they stood.\n\nThe other man watched with a grin as he rolled down the hill, yelling, \"Ha! Told you! You owe me ten lambs!\"\n\n \n\n", "\"That goat is crying,\" explained the daughter, by drawing a goat with tears into the sand with a stick.\n\n\"Is he hurt?\" asked her father, by drawing a bite and blood gushing from the goat's flank.\n\n\"No,\" the daughter indicated by crossing out the picture.\n\n\"Is his mate dead?\" asked the father, drawing a dead female goat.\n\n\"No,\" the daughter responded, crossing out the image again. She drew a picture of a goat eating the fruit of a strange plant. \"He ate this plant.\"\n\n\"The fruits cause pain?\" her father asked, indicating the fruit and the goat's tears.\n\n\"The fruits cause pain,\" the daughter agreed, indicating the same parts of the picture.\n\nThe father drew his young son, a rowdy boy who frequently needed punishment for stealing and vandalism. He drew the fruit and tears in the son's eyes. \"Let's feed it to the boy,\" the father indicated.\n\nThe daughter took the fruit out of her garment and they shared a look of delight. They made the sound for the boy child's name, and the sound for delicious food. \n\nIt would be very funny when the fruit made him cry." ]	2
By multi-generational ship I mean a large self sustaining ship that is propelled by modern means. People die and give birth on the vessel, counting on future generations to arrive at their destination.	[WP] In the year 2025 a multi-generational ship is sent out to explore spaceand After 50 years humanity loses contact with them. Hundreds of years later light speed travel is invented and a light speed ship catches up to the generational ship. What do they find inside?	[ "I know that I should never utter such immature words from a professional mouth, but boy did it smell in there. Doors were locked, so our ship had to use our V98-(8)347 missiles to open the left side of the ship. Such a beautiful spacecraft the Humanity was, I remember giving one of my friends the ticket I bought for this ship. As my squad entered Humanity through the gaping hole we created, we were horrified at what we discovered. Not monsters, not aliens. Nothing. No people, no sounds, only the shiny white floor and lights. I found a checklist at a nearby desk. The paper read \"CITIZENS AND HOUSING\", and was home to names of the space travelers and their room numbers. I found my friend's name, and ventured off into the space ship.\n\nIt took me half an hour, but I stood at a half open door that blocked me from Blake's room. I opened it quickly, hollering \"How's the big B?!\" And, to my surprise, he still slept. Being the loving friend who dearly missed their closest friend, I turned his body over, to see his face. Nothing.\n\nBlake's face was gone, claw marks replace what used to be a smiling face. Un-decomposed brain mush were remnants of what housed our memories and all of his life's thoughts and events. I left the room calmly searched the next room. The exact same situation.\n\nAfter wandering throughout the titanic yet abandoned steel box, I stopped to lock myself in a bathroom stall. I then reached for my 4.76 Colt Supersonic Laser Pistol, loaded it, and shot through my head. And then it was black.", "Captains log:\nAfter several successful tests of our warp drive engines, we have begun our primary mission and have quickly reached and explored all possible logical courses for our generational ship, the Pioneer, without success. We, of course, have been broadcasting in all available frequencies and have located something that might be a distress beacon far from the paths laid out by our on-board scientists. We will be approaching the location of the beacon within the hour.\n\n...\n\nWe have approached the source of the beacon, many light years from Earth, and have found a previously uncharted solar system. There appears to be an M class planet on the outer edges of the solar system, given that the star in this system is of much greater diameter and strength of our own. According to our scans, the Pioneer had not made it that planet but is in fact orbiting a planet on the inner edge of the star, close to where our own Earth would be located. Given the limited sensor capabilities of the spaceship, it is not surprising that they would assume a habitable planet would be at a similar distance as ours. We will soon be arriving at their location within minutes and I must report to the bridge. \n\n...\n\nInitial scans of the ship have shown approximately double the original lifesigns of the ship that left Earth. The structural integrity of the ship has been withstanding the intense heat and radiation of the local star, but prolonged exposure might prove hazardous to the crew of the vessel. Scans of the vessel show that their main propulsion is offline along with many vital subsystems, including communications. The Pioneer is currently in orbit of the planet, which upon further scans shows to be made of a possible material that could be converted to fuel if not for the atmospheric conditions making extraction difficult. According to sensors, all shuttles are unaccounted for, more than likely meaning there were many failed attempts to gather resources. As of yet we are unable to establish communications with the ship, leaving us only with speculation and scans. Several shuttles are being prepared as we speak to board the Pioneer and meet with members of the crew. \n\n...\n\nInitial reports are beginning to come in from the Pioneer. Immediately after first contact was made, hostilities began. The ship was apparently caught unaware of our arrival and our boarding crews were treated as invaders. Our crews wearing the current standard issue isolation suits, much upgraded and, I'm sure, seemed very foreign to what they were used to when they first left our world. Reports coming in are stating that the crew of the ship acted most savagely, but fortunately no injuries were sustained from either crew. There appears to be no semblance of rank as we know it. They have a sort of hierarchy which seems to be based on age and skills. As main computers are offline they have no way to gauge how long they have been in orbit of this planet but it seems to be a great amount of time. All older personnel were unable to adapt to the heat and radiation, dying off, leaving younger people to run the ship as they see fit. Some have learned some basics of running the ship, but most seem more concerned with obtaining status and power. Mating and reproduction seems to be of a high priority, as the number of people in the ship have gone well beyond what the hydroponics bays can produce. Most people seem malnourished, especially those assigned to menial tasks and general maintenance, leading to further decay of ship systems. With medical systems offline, they were unable to manufacture basic vaccines and antibiotics, leaving many in critical condition from minor injuries and illnesses. Away teams are currently focusing on triaging and transporting the patients back to our ship for medical care. As soon as they are safely on board, we send our engineers to begin to assess the damage to the Pioneer.\n\n...\n\nOur engineers have been very successful in reestablishing many vital systems to the Pioneer, but unfortunately have been unable to reactivate the engine systems. Their primary engines have been modified and run on make shift fuels found along their journey for so long that they are unable to process the replacement fuels we have brought with us without completely dismantling the reactor and reassembling it. Without the original crew who made these modifications they will, unfortunately take much too long. By the time my engineers predict that they will reconstruct the reactors to original specifications, the ship will have descended too far into the planets atmosphere to be able to fly out again. Due to this i have decided to evacuate all personnel my ship, much exceeding our own capacity, to return them all to Earth. Initial downloads are beginning to come in from the Pioneer computers, providing valuable information regarding the ship after losing contact with Earth. I must review this information and transmit back to base.\n\n...\n\nThe information coming from the Pioneer is startling. Apparently there was much hidden from official communications back to base. There was much dissent from the crew who thought that there was no hope in the mission, no progress being made in exploration or scientific discoveries and many that wanted the ship to return back to their respective homelands. Within months, unforeseen malfunctions and failures were becoming a occurrence with ship systems, worsening once leaving the confines of the solar system, requiring frequent maintenance and in some cases, complete rebuilds from any spare components in storage. Unfortunately, the ship systems were the least of their worries. The ships rank system was lax from the beginning, seeing as they were so far away from home. This resulted in many people quickly fighting for position and for rank, attempting to one up each other to obtain a higher status for themselves. With no member of the crew being paid an actual income, rewards for success began with recognition from their peers and some small rewards from the mess hall. Over time these turned into primary missions for survival for many of the crew, especially when they started to equal then surpass their food supplies from the hydroponics bay. There are many records in the ships computer of deaths from accidents and suspicious circumstances. Security personnel at first attempted to investigate and solve deaths of suspicious circumstance but were poorly equipped and were faced with public discrimination by the crew. The Captain was of course had final decision in all punishments of the crew, but this led to further dissidence as friends and family felt that punishments were too hard or too severe for nothing but circumstantial evidence. Security eventually turned from shipwide police to individual protection for those in power and able to provide benefits to those around them, originally starting with the captain, then going to who ever else might be in power. Lawlessness and the fight for power only increased from there. Reports are currently coming in that the crew of the Pioneer are acting very negatively to my order of evacuation, must report to the bridge. \n\n...\n\nReports coming in are disastrous. The crew of the Pioneer have begun forcibly removing my crew from their ship, refusing to leave their dying home. My chief engineer has been seriously injured along with several others. As bad as conditions are in their ship, the leaders of this ship refuse to accept someone elses authority or leave their home. Several of the ships own engineers are asking for transport off the ship but are being held captive by the crew. Shuttles are returning now and luckily we were able to retrieve all our own crew from their vessel. They are insisting they will able to figure out their own situation and refuse to believe there is no alternative but to abandon ship. \n\n...\n\nI have been in communication with the people on their ship with their newly repaired comm systems. I speak to someone different every time and have no been able to communicate how imperative it is we save them from their sinking ship, but to no avail. At last communication they said they are close to repairing their damaged engines, and currently are no longer answering our hails. As we have no ability to tow a ship of their size out of the gravity well we have no alternative but to wait and see if they will allow us to help them escape their situation.\n\n...\n\nThey have just entered the planets atmosphere. Still no answer to our hails or pleads to allow us to help them, though my engineers assure me their communications systems are still functioning. We were forced to watch them enter atmosphere and burn and melt and break apart upon entry to the planet. It is a sad day for our crew to not complete our mission. We take some solace that we were able to save some small amount of their crew to our medical bays where we were able to treat them and, according to my Chief Medical Officer, were able to save every one. Our prayers are with the misguided crew of the Pioneer, and will now be sending my log to base. \n\nEnd of Transmission\n\n\nHope everybody enjoyed it, this is my first submission, and its very late, so don't have time to run back and double check my writing. I think this might be how it might turn out based on pure human nature, but who knows right? I can only hope our first ship will fair better.", "\"Captain Jonathon Gills from the United Earth Federation Spaceship Challenger requesting permission to come aboard, Sir\"\n\nThe airlock hissed at the far end and the door swung outward. Gills crossed the lock and stood before the open door.\n\n\"Permission granted, Captain, welcome aboard the Endeavor\". \n\nA man in full dress uniform from the 21st century stood before him and extended a hand. Gills grasped it and shook.\n\n\"I'm Captain Standish Willingsly. Come, we've put on a feast in your honor!\" and the man led Gills and the boarding crew down a hallway to a large mess hall. The mess was full of people of every age, race and color.\n\n\"Make way, make way\" shouted Willingsly \"our guests have finally arrived.\"\n\n\"Captain Willingsly\" Gills began.\n\n\"Just Willingsly will do. The uniform is just for today, otherwise we're quite informal\".\n\n\"Willingsly then,\" Gills went on \"you seem to have been expecting us\".\n\n\"Quite so. I think it was Lars V, or maybe VI that surmised you would develop faster than light travel approximately 300 years after we launched. It's been about that, give or take a decade, and here you are, right on time. Sit down, we have quite the meal coming\".\n\nGills sat, Willingsly continued.\n\n\"Franklin VI has ginned up some barbecue in your honor. Lab grown, of course, but really quite good. If you don't mind, complement him on his smoke ring. Took him the better part of 5 years to get it right\".\n\nThe plate arrived and it did look rather amazing. \n\n\"Nice smoke ring\" Gill said to the man serving him.\n\n\"Really? You noticed? So, you've had good Q before then? North Carolina is what I'm shooting for, oak and pecan smoke with a hint of vinegar. Then I take...\" he was cut off by Willingsly.\n\n\"Franklin VI, I think our friends have a bit more to wonder about than your ribs. I think that sometimes we tend toward the obsessive. Time and solitude have a way of focusing ones actions.\"\n\n\"You called him Franklin VI, why?\" Gills asked.\n\n\"Ah. We tend to reuse names, it helps with the bookkeeping. So Franklin VI is the sixth Franklin Emerson George since launch. His father, Franklin V is down tending the engines or I would introduce you.\"\n\nA pack of children ran by, saw Gills and stopped. They stared at him for a moment until one boy, obviously the bravest in the group, touched Gills' arm. The boy drew his hand back, shrieked and ran away with the others. Gills laughed.\n\n\"Kids are always the same\" Gills said.\n\n\"They'll be leaving soon. I'm afraid I'll miss them.\"\n\n\"Leaving?\"\n\n\"Colonists. We charted our original course to bring us as close to as many Earth-like planets as possible. We're coming up on one next year. The passing coincides with a small population boom so those children, their parents and some grandparents will colonize the planet.\"\n\n\"How did you get a surplus? Didn't you balance the birth to death ratio to keep the group sustainable?\" Gill asked.\n\n\"We certainly planned it that way, but nature has a funny way of thwarting the best laid plans. Back in Generation Two, the women led a small uprising, demanded \"choice\" and control over their own reproduction organs. We gave in and shortly thereafter we had our first baby-boom. Now, about every 20 years we have another. Rather than try to up the death rate, we decided that colonization would be a bit more humane. The sad part is that once we leave them we never really know what happens. We don't have the ability to easily go back and check. Perhaps that's something you could do for us? With your warp drives?\" Willingsly eyes grew wide in hope.\n\n\"I think that could be arranged\" Gills said and Willingsly smiled.\n\n\"Captain, Willingsly\" Gills asked \"your ship lost contact with Earth after 50 years. What happened?\"\n\nWillingsly smiled. \"Have you had the papaya? We figured out how to combo them just last month.\"\n\nA band started playing and members of Gills' crew got up to dance with the Endeavor women. Willingsly started clapping his hands and singing along. \n\n\"Wonderful Jane IV!\" he shouted \"just like your mother!\" Jane IV was playing keyboards and let loose a run down the keys.\n\n\"Captain Willingsly\" Gills raised his voice above the music \"I've noticed that everyone here has a number except you. What generation are you, exactly?\"\n\nWillingsly didn't turn to face Gills but shouted over his shoulder \"Why I'm Gen One.\"\n\nGills' eyes went wide.\n\n\"Willingsly, that's impossible, that's\" Gills stuttered.\n\n\"50 years after leaving everything changed\" Willingsly hollered.\n\n\"How?\"\n\nWillingsly turned to Gills, a smiled broadened over his face.\n\n\"We made Contact!\"\n", "\"Garett, you ready?\"\n\nI lift my rifle into position and shoot a nod at my partner, Brady. As we wait, I can feel the butt of the gun digging into the fold of my arm and the cold riggedness of the handle resting in the palm of my hand. A bead of sweat runs the length my brow and down the side of my face, almost as if it were racing against the speed of my beating heart. With my left hand I close my grip around the handle of the door and almost immediately I recoil in pain.\n\n\"Too hot?\" he laughs.\n\n\"No—,\" I say looking him straight in the eyes, \"too cold.\"\n\nHis laughing suddenly stops. I tighten my grip on my rifle as I watch my partner confirm what I already know. It's frozen. But to what extent I wonder. Was it just the room behind the door? The entire lower level? The entire ship? Before I can finish my thoughts I'm snapped out of it by the sound the handle shattering into bits.\n\n\"Shit.\" \n\n\"Real fucking great, Brady. Real fucking great.\"\n\n\"I didn't even tap it hard!\"\n\n\"Yeah, I'm sure you gave it a nice little love tap. Did you at least get a little foreplay going?\"\n\nI shake my head as I open up my front pocket to grab my torch. \n\n\"Here, use this.\" I say tossing it to Brady. \n\nHe latches the torch onto the metal door and presses the button in the center. As the metal rods extend from the outer shell, lasers fire in all directions to measure the height and width of the door. In an instant, the door is ripped off it's hinges and lands at our feet. Brady looks over to me and I to him. I know what he's going to say.\n\n\"Are you ready?\"\n\nAgain my hands are on my rifle while my heart rate begins to increase. And then I recall the debriefing. I remember the lieutenant telling us how this is a special case. He said there was a malfunction on the ship and as a result the scans showed no life on board. I remember how this isn't a search and rescue mission and I suddenly remember the flame thrower attached to my back.\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n ", "I'm in the SAS. I'm scared. They could be dead. Half eaten, odorant skulls. Worse, sick, diseased. They didn't answer our call. I asked Jeff why, as if he knew. He did, or at least guessed correctly. We didn't use the same type of communication. 50 years ago..How customs have changed. We genetically bettered ourselves. What must they look like? Some bunch of monkeys. I'm an idiot. Could have sent the robot. Apparently it was more diplomatic this way. I'm revulsed at the idea of those filthy ignorants. How they must roll in mud. The germs! Letting your own immune system take care if them? Crazy. They must be covered in that disgusting hair. Due to the way were made, we do not have that nuissance anymore but have perfectly slim, hairless bodies. Except for old Jeff; he may have a bald scalp but he's got that hideous mustache. But he's got brains, I'll give him that.\n\n\nThe red light flashes. How primitive. I open the door. I have to use physical effort! Don't they know I could fie of a heart attack?! I bet that's how they all died. I'm terrified. Wish the robot was with me. It's more akin to me than them to me. They don't even have the nanochips! How could they even think properly? I'm a neuroscientist, biologist and expert in robotics. In the amount of time it took me to do that, they might've hoped to become doctors. I guess that't the way they must feel about their own ancestors.\n\n\nThe door swing open with a notable wail. Pitch dark in this goddamn corridor. Done, that's my day; they're dead, probably from some stupid cause. Now or then, death is always so stupid, ridiculous and as unwelcome as a fly.\nI hear a noise. Banging. Metal. Screech. I tremble. Dammit fine. How was I supposed to know you couldn't use telepathy on people who don't have the chip? We don't even use their old communication devices anyway.\n\n\nI turn the lights on. Always the \"on/off\" switch, eternal. I investigate where I thought the noise came from. A cat. U suppose they brought pets. It looks well fed, for a space cat. Owners can't be very far. Cat leads me to his master. Turns out he's frozen in suspended animation. I forgot they had to go through that inhumane shit. A wave of pity flowed through my body but only an ounce. I kept in mind the cat was probably being fed. A wave of fear made my bones clatter. I opened the pod thingy. The others are already opened. At least it has that clear \"End animation\" button. I forget the young boy needs to adapt. As he pants, confused, I look at his heap of hair and skin previously burnt by the sun. So close to death. So filthy.\n\n\n\"So cold!\" he heaved. Ah. Dialect. Where's the damn robot? Did he really need to bang his metal head? We said frone, not cold now, comes from frozen. I'll make do. I help the alnost choking boy but put safety gloves first. Filthy animal. Bacteria could survive in those temperatures too. Great.\n\n\nDoing so sends the cat spining gently as I shoved it. OH GOD I TOUCHED IT. I shrieked in disgusted fear. The boy looked puzzled. I freed him for the cat now. He seems just as confused as the cat, now orbiting and spinning around the doorway. Fucking grizzle, I need to talk to the boy now.\n\n\nHe asked why I shrieked. I explained how filthy hair is. He looked offended. So did the floating cat. I don't care. I asked him for directions. He has no clue. I ask him to move his cat. He refuses. He grabs on to me to get out of the thing he's (quite incredibly) survived in for 50 years. I recoil in horror, then retaliate, sending him towards the feline levitator, pushing them both out of the way. How unclean. I feel dirty, infected. I shiver. I find my own way through. I report to Jeff. He's overjoyed by the boy's existance. History geek. I prefer the lore of robots. The boy inquires. More questions to ignore. I do tell him of the chip..I love it: neoroscience AND robotics. He is upset. Poor, jealous,loser. He talks of acceptance. I give him none. Not that I have compassion to give.\n\n\nI find them. They're having fun, eating grown food from artificial fields. Vegetables, fruit and meat run wild. They look old but there's chipdren and a pregnant lady. So revulsive. They're warm, happy. the older one, the smiling captain, tries to hug me. I'd rather the cat.\n\n\nThe boy tugs my sleeve. I would've fainted but I think I'm a goner now anyway. He asks me why they didn't wake him. I hate him but this womam was too scared to care.\n\n\nWas this boy in the freezer? The meat. The only animal I saw was the cat. It was asking for food, not its master. Some guy was eyeing the boy. Me too I realized. I explained to the captain our mission: to bring them back. I realize I gave Jeff's existance away. The captain does not want to leave. Cannibals. Even back then that was seen as stupid. Disease. Primitive. I tell Jeff. We get away, with the cat too for some reason. The boy didn't grasp the situation. They knew the ship better. But not as well as the cat. Air vents. I was wimpering: highways of disease. Shit. Air vents on a ship. Hair on people. Man-eating domesticated cats. I'be seen everything. Why is the boy with me? Some disgusting protective instinct? Maternal? Jeff. Jeff's history. That's why.\n\n\nThe robot! There it is. Quirky ray of my life. He takes the boy. Me and cat are stuck: they caught up with us.\n\"Jeff, help!\" Can't do much, said the voice in my mind.\n\n\n\"I'm sorry, I swear you have a nice mustache!\"\n\n\nSee you in hell you miserable prick, Jeff said. The things you think. That nanochip was a bad idea for you.\n\n\nThat was a high offense. I invented it! Not that I need it. Leaving me for dead however, goes against a lot of philosophical principles. He needed it. I callef the robot. He ignored me. Almost forgot why I was studying him. He banged his head.\nHe was gone. Shit.\n\n\nI've been flailed and kept alive. Apparently they worship the cat. Purrfect. I'm hysterical. Fuck this. Fuck Jeff, robots are loyal at least. Unfortunately to.him. Which is weird, cause he banged his head. Laws of Asimov. He couldn't disobey and leave me for dead.\n\n\nThey tried to chop my aching arm off. Turns out I'm a robot. Well that explains that. applause. Great. Too bad I feel pain. I black out.\n\n\nThe worst is the emotional pain. lf only I'd been nicer to others.\n\n\nIn a firework of wires, my head came off and the blue screen of death of all things came on and I could no longer see.", "\nAt the height of the Second Spanish Influenza, a hastily outfitted Buran III was launched from Baikonur Cosmodrome. Arbitrarily picked from the top percentile of the remains of the State Gifted and Talented Scheme, it was the last gasp of a dying Motherland. It had tried multiple coups, inhuman research projects and a sudden collapse into civil war, before finding that none of these helped develop a vaccine any faster.\n\nThe automated systems on the Buran III beamed its status messages like clockwork. Twice per day, every day. Fifty years after their panicked launch the range grew so extreme the faint transmissions were indistinguishable from cosmic background radiation and were lost in the vast, cold expanses of space.\n\nAt Baikonur, the status messages printed themselves out like clockwork, gathering in a pile of yellowing type and copy upon the decaying concrete.\n\nThree hundred years later, a stray metal fragment punctured the hear shields of the USS San Antonio, causing a sudden decompression event and spacing all officers in the lower portside torpedo compartment before bulkhead doors automatically deployed. The crippled vessel dropped from near light speed to repair damages and launch a court martial of Chief Navigator Edison, who failed to calculate a safe trajectory and was therefore indirectly responsible for the deaths of fifty-three crew.\n\nAll charges were dropped seven hours later, when it was discovered that the fragment which wreaked such havok was in fact a belt buckle.\n\nA string of bodies, mummified husks, dressed in the dried remains of historic United Russian States Navy uniforms were identified, leading far ahead into the A-6513 asteroid belt.\n\nCaptain Van Marck ordered the vessel pursue the trail of bodies and space junk. The uniforms disappeared fairly early on, being replaced with simple colonist's clothing. This also disappeared after a longer period, leaving the bodies dumped unclothed. Three weeks into the chase, a much larger cloud of debris and trash was detected by long-range sensors. A manned shuttle was launched from the San Antonio to probe the wreckage.\n\nInside the debris cloud hung a dented and abandoned Mid 21st Century-era early spacefaring vessel, outer compartments vented and lifeless. The shuttle moved in to dock with the unknown craft, attaching its docking seal to the craft's main airlock. The metal crumbled to the touch.\n\nThe crewmen forced their way inside, discovering the final stand of the crew of the Buran III. As vital systems failed from age and wear, the increasingly desperate crew resorted to cannibalizing cabins and compartments one by one. Gradually their craft grew smaller and smaller, the remainder of the plague-ridden society forced into the central cabins.\n\nThe exercise machinery failed early on, leading to increased levels of wasting through the generations. Drifting immobilized in the deadly asteroid field, even the waste disposal units broke down, leaving the final survivors of the United States of Russia resting ignominiously in their own filth. No more was left than atrophied bags of skin and bone, preserved in the sterile air of their craft.\n\nOn the San Antonio, the tiny unnoticed hole punched through the core reactor cooling rods by the Russian's stray buckle finally made itself known. The wave of radiation ensuing swept through the ship, incinerating the engine room crew and poisoning command, who succumbed themselves within hours.\n\nThe automated reports of the USS San Antonio suddenly ceased, the machines in Cape Canaveral falling silent. The building stood quiet and abandoned to the backdrop of the Third Spanish Influenza outbreak reaching its deadly peak.", "Note: I extended the length of the ships disappearance, and I've added cloning with shorter childhoods to add the element of generations effecting each other on the ship. Also, this is 50% story 50% general outline for my idea. Sorry\n\n\nIt's the year 2325, The Peccatum , a ship sent to populate the stars has been missing for 300 years. Then one day, a new modern exploration vessel called The Nuntius, picks up something on it's radar in Deep Space. They are ordered to investigate. That was the last they ever heard from The Nuntius. \n\nThe nearest ship nearby is a research vessel called The Erue, it is ordered to investigate. \n\nAfter arriving at the last known location of the Nuntius, they are immediately attacked, subdued and boarded by an older ship that resembles the Peccatum. \n\n\nWhile captured, the Erue crew learns the following things:\n\nThe Peccatum suffered heavy damage from an asteroid shortly after losing contact with Earth 300 years ago. \n\nThe ships nuclear reactor was damaged causing huge amounts of radiation to constantly flood the ship. \n\n\nThe crew was left with two choices, jettison the reactor or ramp up the cloning program on board the ship to make up for the all the deaths and shorter lifespans. \n \nThe ship had many people to begin with from all walks of life. Scientist, Artists, Businessmen, Religious figures.\n\nThe many different groups inside the ship fought over what they should do next.\n\nDue to the ramped up cloning process, the Peccatum hasn't had 3-4 generations living on the ship, they've had 30-40 generations in the same amount of time. \n\n\nGot to go to work sorry. I'll flesh out the rest when I'm at work\n\nhere's a quick synopsis of what's left. \n\nThe Peccatum, is full of basically two groups now. The ones who were the genetic clones of the scientists, and the ones who came from the religious groups. \n\nBoth have been fighting for control of the ship for hundreds of years. Finally, they have agreed upon to turn their crippled ship around and return to Earth. For different reasons of course. \n\nHowever, the ship is leaking radiation and could blow up at any second. Bringing it into our solar system could endanger the entire system. (probably something with their warp drive)\n\nPlus the constant exposure to Radtiation has made these people sick and they should not be allowed to mingle with the Earth Population.\n\nThe captain of the Erue, needs to (A) convince the religious leaders that this is not a crusade to return to \"Mecca\"\nand (B) convince the Science people that returning home to reunite the species bloodline is not in Earth's best interest. \n\nTheir only option is to return to their original mission that they were originally on before the accident and on board fighting began. \n\nCan the Captain of the Erue convince these people to do the right thing? \n\n\n\n", "Shiplog - Entry 756\n\nBegin record. Captain Benza, entry seven-five-six, date is... twenty one-fifty six, January fifteenth, Earth Standard Time.\n\nWe zeroed in on a ghost ship a couple of hours ago, no serial number and unknown make. The reactors look powered down and we may not have even seen it if the hull wasn't caked in radioactive residue.\n\nI'm prepping some scrappers to get a closer look and get an eye on the ships name. This isn't like a usual job so I'm hesitant to crack her open until we have full countermeasures in place, we don't want another Sol Cult disaster...\n\nEnd recording.\n\n---\n\nShiplog - Entry 757\n\nBegin record. Captain Benza, entry seven-five-seven, date is twenty one-fifty six, January fifteenth, Earth Standard Time.\n\nSo the scrappers returned and identified the ship. Stargazer. Never heard of it and the system isn't returning any positives. I'm going to bet that this is some kind of pirate vessel or a bunch of wayward Mormon colonists. Either way, she ought to be brimming with gear. If she's as old as she looks we might even fetch an antique price. \n\nI'm sending some Crackers on a raft to go and peel us an entry before the Tugs get in there and fill up. I want to keep this as quick as possible, there's no telling what the condition of the ship is like and I'd rather not have it melt down with half the lads on board.\n\nend recording.\n\n---\n\nShiplog - Entry 758\n\nBegin record. Captain Benza, entry seven-five-eight, date is twenty one-fifty six, January seventeenth, Earth Standard Time.\n\nWell we cracked her and Tugged out some goods. Most of it was junk, some of it we dumped. Rotten vitapacks, clothes and rusty materials.\n\nSome of the lads said that there was bio-pods on board, but they were all blackened on the inside. Nobody wanted to open them up and I don't blame them, a few wristwatches isn't worth the stench.\n\nOther than that it was a pretty regular haul. We got some electrics, a few tons of vintage wines and their ship data, which fit on a single thumbdrive!\n\nLooking at their logs now, it seems like they were early colonists, long before the Mormons took off. Their records end at about twenty-seventy five. Nothing before that to suggest any reason for them to stop communicating, I reckon that's when they all died.\n\nbackground talking\n\nUh huh, alright. Chuck it if it's no good, we need the cargo space.\n\nWell, turns our the electronics are shot, massive electrical damage. Looks like these poor colonists were hit by a flare.\n\nSuch is space travel, I guess.\n\nEnd recording.\n\n---", "\"And?\" The rest of the bar seemed to lean in closer, expectantly. Li took another drink.\n\n\"And it was empty.\" There was silence for moment, then the tall woman in sitting to his left spoke for the first time since he had started telling his story. \"They were dead?\"\n\nLi shook his head. \"Nope, no dead bodies. Anywhere.\" He paused for a moment. \"I mean anywhere. We didn't even find buried bodies from the first generation of colonists. Ashes, either. There should have been a few casualties from sickness and accidents over the years. It was a big ship and it was bound to happen. Hell, we know some people died in the first 50 years from their reports back to Earth. But we didn't find anything. No human remains at all.\"\n\nThis provoked murmurs. Li stifled a yawn and wondered what time it was. He rarely slept anymore. Sleep disorders were common in Savissivik-Thule but Li suspected too much daylight wasn't his problem.\n\n\"So no people and no bodies. Where did they go?\" It was the bartender this time. He was the only person in the bar who looked like he had any Inuit blood at all. This was the first time Li could recall seeing him without a smile on his face. He had that effect on people these days.\n\nLi shrugged. \"We spent three weeks with the ship as we conducted the initial survey and towed it to dock and we never figured that out. As far as I know we still haven’t. I suppose they could have all gone out airlocks but we never saw any signs of depressurization and there were no signs of struggle, so if they did walk the plank they went willingly.” He fought the urge to yawn again and wondered if he was actually tired enough to sleep that night.\n\nBut wasn’t he trying to sleep with the tall woman next time him? Was that why he was telling the story? He couldn’t remember. He forgot a lot of things these days. He hoped it was the lack of sleep. He had heard rumors about other members of his recovery crew developing inexplicable psychological disorders.\n\nHe suddenly realized that he didn’t know how long he had been silent. He needed to focus.\n\n“We never figured it out,” he repeated. “All electronic records were wiped clean. There were no official logs, no video footage, no personal entries. Nothing.”\n\nThe tall woman spoke again: “You mean on the central computer or-”\n\n“Anywhere. We didn’t find electronic records anywhere. Not in the central computer, not on any personal devices, not anywhere.” Did he interrupt her? Was that rude?\n\nMore muttering.\n\n“And not just electronic records either.” He continued. “There was almost nothing written down. No old-fashioned diaries or printouts.”\n\n“What do you mean ‘almost?’?” This was the heavyset-man with wraparound sunglasses at the table farthest from the door. He was sitting with his back to the wall, as he did every time Li saw him at the bar.\n\n“I’ll get to that in a minute,” Li said as politely as he could. Sunglasses seemed vaguely terrifying and Li didn’t want to have to find a new bar if he pissed off the wrong person. “There were no written or electronic records of what happened before or after they stopped sending back reports.”\n\n“So the computers had been wiped?” The bartender asked.\n\n“Nope, there was no indication that there were ever any records to begin with. No traces of deleted files, no fragments, no breadcrumbs, no traces, no clues.” He was rambling. He needed to focus. “Our I.T. detachment went through everything over a dozen times over and said it was as if nothing had ever been recorded at all.”\n\n“So strange,” the tall woman whispered.\n\n“That wasn’t the strange part. Our social techs and salvage archaeologists decided that there had been ‘a disruptive social event’ at some point.”\n\nLi paused but there was no response this time.\n\n“Apparently at some point the entire population dismantled their personal living quarters and turned most of the ship into an enormous communal space. The closest comparison we could find for the layout they created was the atomic structure of quartz.”\n\n“What? That makes no sense!” Exclaimed the tall woman. Li suddenly remembered that she had mentioned being a geologist.\n\n“No shit,” he said dryly. She looked offended by his tone. Sex was probably off the table.\n\n“I mean it didn’t make sense to us either,” he quickly added. “And there were the other things.”\n\n“Other things?” The bartender was pouring himself a glass of something clear, not even pretending to pay attention to the other customers.\n\nLi briefly considered how much to tell. They already thought he was more than a little crazy and he wasn’t getting laid tonight, he might as well give them something.\n\n“From what we could recover from the hydroponic decks, they got rid of most of their seeds and only grew plants that were cultivated in pre-Colombian Mesoamerica.”\n\n“What?” Almost everybody together that time.\n\n“It was the only common factor we could find. Also they apparently melted down any metal that wasn’t essential to structural integrity and built 1,297 statues that they placed at regular intervals throughout the ship. They somehow managed to turn one of the bulkheads into a metal foundry.”\n\n“Statues of what?” The dark-haired woman sitting with Sunglasses asked, speaking for the first time.\n\n“Oh, of teeth.” Li said, almost as an afterthought.\n\n“Teeth?” She asked.\n\n“Yeah, human teeth. Well, a tooth. Just copied 1,297 times. Ranging from life-sized to about three feet high. They were all over the place, although there was supposedly some order to their placement.”\n\n“Why 1,297?” The tall geologist asked. Li shrugged. \n\n“I dunno. Prime number? There was lots of stuff like that. All the livestock onboard had been killed and there was a room full of their bones lined up next to each other and snaking around the room, going in order from smallest to largest. According to the tests they were all slaughtered or died about the same time.”\n\nThey were just staring at him in silence now.", "I jolted forward in my seat, and the nausea I'd been coping for with for the duration of the trip instantly subsided. 'Thank the stars,' I thought to myself, 'we are dropping out of FTL.' Taking a deep breath and choking down the acid taste in my mouth, I undid my belt and stood up. My legs had their strength back almost immediately after dropping out, and I felt just like I was back home.\n\n\"We're here,\" the captain announced, sounding no worse for the wear as he removed his headset and stretched his arms upwards. \"Spectroscopy hasn't found anything worth our worry, just a few asteroids within the nearest AU, so until we hear otherwise, I suggest we all get some lunch. Even if you're not hungry, mind. Faster-than-light really screws with your appetite until you get your space legs.\" He was not wrong. But I hadn't eaten since yesterday, and I was damned hungry. \n\n\"That's all well and good Captain Black,\" came Dr. Elan's voice, almost cutting off the captain. \"But I don't need them looking for space rocks, I need them looking for my ship.\" She sounded angry.\n\n\"And I need my crew keeping us all safe, Doc! We're four jumps past our official course already. And I've agreed to it, which I didn't have to, but I'm not going to just charge ahead like a moron. Even if the insurance would cover it, it'd hardly matter if we all died out here.\" He sounded angry too. Calming down, he continued. \"Don't sweat, we won't be long. Then they can start poking around for your boat.\"\n\nFrancine Elan slumped back in her chair. Normally the doctor was as affable as she was bright, but she was anxious as hell today. Understandable, given the circumstances.\n\nWe'd picked it up on TADAR a week ago, and been so stunned that no one was sure if it was real or just wishful thinking. But double and triple and quadruple checking it had settled it: there was no mistake, that was a ship. The question was whether it was some poor bastards who dropped out of FTL at the wrong time and been careening off into the deep ever since or the real deal. The one they launched during the glow.\n\nThe comm tone sounded. The Captain hopped back into his seat and snapped his headset back on to his head. \"This is the bridge, tell me wha- what? No shit. Repeat please. Well I'll be goddamned. Yep. Yep. I'll let the Doc know.\"\n\nHe turned his seat to face Francine Elan, a famous archaeologist, and the head honcho on this trip. \"Good news Doc, pretty sure they found your boat. It's 4.3 million km sunward.\" Even he was excited, though maybe that was for the bonus he'd negotiated.\n\n\"And get this. There's O2 onboard.\" \n\nOh. Oh shit. \n\nAfter that we shot into overdrive. The captain and pilot began manoeuvring closer to the ship and the rest of the crew joined the team in getting ready for EVA. Within a half an hour, we packed into the shuttle and sped off. Within five minutes time, we saw the silhouette of the ship. The comm buoys had long since failed and any name had been scraped off by dust centuries ago, but I was sure of it - this was her.\n\nGetting into the ship was trivial. We'd known that if this was really the ship, the airlocks were bound to be non-functional, so we'd brought a breeching craft along with us for just this purpose. There had been complaints about damaging an archaeological find like this, but in spite of the protests, everyone was more interested in getting inside the ship than they were keeping it in perfect condition.\n\nWe popped inside, I did a quick check for dangerous pathogens, and then I reached to open my visor before I thought better of it. The air scanned clean, but it'd been a long, long time, and I told everyone to keep themselves bolted up. We all started down the airlock corridor towards what appeared to be the center module.\n\nUpon arriving at the center module, we discovered that, remarkable, the lights and some of the computer systems were operational. Deciding we'd use this module as a sort of basecamp, Francine devised a plan to cover the ship as efficiently as possible. It wasn't exactly intuitively to explore, and even though we were sure it was safe, we were all still a bit superstitious about a ship older than most cities on Earth. So we split up, and Dr. Elan and I started down one corridor and left the other teams to check out theirs while a few engineers banged away at the ship's log.\n\nAt last we came to one of the last module on the corridor we'd started down. It was cavernous, and while the module entrance was lit from the hallway, the room itself was damn near pitch black. Francine started fiddling with a console near the lit doorway, and suddenly the room exploded into light.\n\nHoly sweet starlight, I thought.\n\nMy jaw dropped, and I fell backwards onto my ass in shock.\n\nFrancine ran over to check on me.\n\n\"Are you okay?\" \n\nI had no words.\n\n\"Answer me. Are you okay? Shit. Shit shit shit.\"\n\nI was faintly aware of her calling for help into her commlink, but I was still transfixed by what I saw.\n\n\"Hey guys. Bill is acting really weird.\" My suit was shaking back and forth, but I couldn't look away.\n\n\"Get here right fucking now. Bill is having some kind of episode,\" she yelled into her comms.\n\nThe second mention of my name made me snap back to attention, and I tried to set her at ease. \"No, no. I'm fine. But tell them to come here anyway.\"\n\nShe sighed with relief and hunched over with her hands on her knees. \"Oh man, you really fucking scared me there Bill.\" She spoke into her comms, \"false alarm everyone, he's okay. I'm gonna kill him later, but for now he's okay.\"\n\nTurning to her, too amazed to be sheepish, I spoke. \"Yeah, I'm sorry to have worried you.\" It was barely an apology. \"Look it's good you called everyone here anyway. This is... wow...\"\n\nThe blood was pumped so hard in my head that it hurt, but I made out a voice over the comms. \"Hey, if Bill is all right, you gotta come see this section of the ship. It's like... a mausoleum or something. There's gold and platinum all over the place - just the value of the raw materials has got to be enough to have made us break even. Looks like the last of the crew died a looooooooooong time ago. Amazed anything still works on this sucker.\"\n\n\"Fuck the gold. Fuck the bones,\" I said back, \"you have to come here. What I'm looking at is the single most important thing I've ever laid eyes on. There won't be a prize on Earth prestigious enough for us when we get back.\"\n\n\"Well shit, okay then\" the voice came back, a little shocked. \"We'll be right over.\" And the comms went silent.\n\nThere was silence for a moment, then Dr. Elan spoke. \"So... Bill... want to let me in on why this room matters?\"\n\nI turned to her and pointed at the mess of tall green stalks in front of me. \"That, Fran, is why we're here. That is why you brought a historian on a space voyage. That is going to save the fucking planet. No one alive but us has ever seen it.\"\n\n\"Well what the hell is it?\"\n\n\"That, Francine,\" I said \"is corn.\"", "Day 1 12:23\n\nMikey matched the spin of the asteroid an hour ago: Why hadn’t we descended to the surface yet? There was something odd about this one. Initial scans indicated an extremely light mass.\n\n“Maybe it’s geode-type,” Carol remarked, “And they’re calling an outfitted crew to mine this one.\n\n“Those are hyper-rare,” I told her. “Besides, you can’t call a team without checking it first. Immense waste of resources, \nif you were wrong.”\n\n“If you were wrong,” she replied, and popped a grape into her mouth and crunched down.\n\nI waved her off. “Low density, high rate of spin, hardly any surface craters… seems like an odd combination. This is no geode. Mikey’s not telling us something.”\n\nShe shrugged.\n\n17:56\n\nI’d been staring at the asteroid. I was intensely fascinated by it. Something called to me. The coal black, ice crusted surface hid something, and I could see it, like a fog on the edge of my vision. Like something dark hiding in the gloom. \nCarol hung up the COM. “We’re descending now.”\n\n“About damn time.” \n\nThe ship shuddered when it made contact with the asteroid surface. Touchdown.\n\nWe climbed down the ladder to the decon room. Carol bolted the hatch shut and I took her suit off the rack and handed it to her and then retrieved mine and stripped down to my long johns and put it on. I checked the fit of the oxygen connectors and brushed off the silver Mylar sleeves and then finally clasped my helmet on. \n\nI nodded to Carol and she punched the drill rig release and it slid open. The air and water vapor froze white and whistled by me and disappeared into space. \n\n“Dropping drill head.” Carol said and I looked up and saw the drill descend and the ship shuddered when it slammed into the surface. It immediately started churning up the rock and ore.\n\n22:10\n\n“Cut the drill! Cut the drill!” Carol yelled from the surface. I ran over and hit the emergency stop. Looked down at her. She approached the drill. It glowed faintly red on the edges. She knelt on the ground before it. “Come here,” she said and waved me over.\nI sighed. “If this is another one of your damn--”\n\n“Shaddup, and look at this,” She said, and removed a sheet of ice that had been loosened by the drill, and revealed a smooth dark surface.\n\n“So?” I asked.\n\n“Look where the drill bit the side. I’d say that’s bronze, or copper.”\n\n“Hm. Yep.”\n\n“This isn’t some organic formation. Look at it.”\n\n“Alright, Alright, I’ll call Mikey.” I got him on the COM. “Mike we have something weird here.” I gave him the details.\n\n“It’s probably crystalline growth. Keep drilling. We need to see what’s inside her.”\n\n“You got it.” I shrugged at Carol and we kept drilling.\n\nDay 2 1:23\n\n“She’s hollow alright.” Carol said. “Kind of weird, that off-gassing, though. Can an asteroid stay airtight that long?”\n\n“What do I care?” I asked. I always got angry when I was nervous. “Just get the light.”\n\nShe grabbed a chemical flare and snapped it and it started to glow green. She pitched it down the chasm we’d opened. I walked to the edge and knelt down and looked in. The flare bounced down maybe a few meters and boomeranged in the changing gravities and settled behind some kind of formation.\n\n“I can’t see anything. I’m going in,” I told Carol and she tied me off and I jumped into the hole and gravity flipped when I left the confines of the ship. I crawled onto the surface and waited for my stomach to right itself and then stood. \nI was surrounded by thin, frosted things. I studied them. There was something vaguely familiar about the figures they cut in the shadows. I gripped a shoot of one and rubbed it in my gloved hands and exposed a vibrant green color. \nThey were plants. Why were there plants inside an asteroid? I looked around with my headlamp and saw I was standing in some kind of garden… but now it was overgrown. It was like a godawful antediluvian forest, grown over. I aimed my headlamp at the large obelisk in the center, the one that the flare had rolled behind. The flickering light revealed a massive thing, grey-black and metal, frosted over. It had shiny bug eyes and grotesque arms. It was some kind of farming device. Even from a distance, I could tell it had been a long time since it was operational.\n\nThis was a hydroponic farm, I thought. But the people. Oh god, did we kill them? I looked around again. There was nothing. I must have destroyed the power to the lights that fed these plants. That’s all that must have been left, I told myself. Just the plants. I noticed I was breathing rapidly and I tried to check it.\n\n“Carol,” I said, and her reply was imbedded in a mush of static. “Carol. Get Mikey on the COM. You’re not gonna believe this.”\n\nEdited-Run on sentences\n" ]	11
The setting can be the near future, or sci-fi.	[WP] During the final days of World War 3 a group of soldiers discover an item of near mythical rarity- a pack of smokes, still in the cellophane.	[ "That day - that damn day - best I've had since they came.\n\nI remember it like it was yesterday. Was it yesterday? Everything runs together now. Everything runs together since they showed up. It all flows like a big, murky river, and I guess I'm just trying to keep my head above water. They came into our world like a flood and left just as quickly, each leaving their mark in some way. Some crafted holes in our world where cities used to be, others killed single, wildly unimportant people. Others, the reddish ones, healed children. \n\nWe don't know why they came, but our world has been in chaos ever since. There's this group of people, a religion maybe, that believes those things were gods, coming to our world to punish us or to set things right. They gathered together from every corner of the world and started trying to \"finish the job\" those things started. They killed indiscriminately and brutally. We, the resistance, the weak and the few, were the only sane force left in this world.\n\nI commanded a squad back then, six guys I would do anything for. Turns out they'd do anything for me too. \n\nBlake, Matt, Joe, Luke, Dave and Elijah. We dropped the military titles after the invasion. It wasn't worth it anymore. We were just men, and I just happened to have the most experience. I wasn't a leader by title, but by necessity. \n\nWe were trekking through what used to be Brooklyn that day. May 3rd. It was Spring. The sun laid on our backs, warm and kind, and our shadows stretched out before us like old friends. We hadn't seen the enemy in a week, it had stopped raining, and we lost contact with command a long time ago. That meant we were on our own, but it also meant we didn't have to deal with objectives or goals. We just had to stay alive.\n\nJoe broke down the door of a convenience store to look for a twinkie, and the rest of us followed him in to find some more respectable food. \nWe found a few packs of fritos, an arizona iced tea, but left the hot dogs as they were. We were about to walk out the door to enjoy our spoils, when Blake yelled back at me. \n\n\"There's something behind the counter. In the glass. It's a pack of something. Anybody know if I can eat it?\"\n\nI sprinted back inside. There's no way. There's no way they could still be here, still be ok. But as my eyes moved from the counter to the case behind it, I found them, that beautiful, sweet pack of cigarettes. I had never smoked before, but my dad used to spend hours telling stories about all the times he and his college buddies used to get together and smoke. He talked about porches and tables and dominoes and the way your head felt a ten feet off the ground when you breathed in that delicious poison.\n\nI smashed the glass, pulled the pack out, and ripped off the cellophane. \n\nNo lighter.\n\nMy fingers, shaking now, reached for the first cigarette. I shoved it in my mouth clumsily, nearly breaking the filter. I could taste something, something incredible on my lips. I whipped out my pistol and fired a round into the air. My squad jumped and screamed, ran out of the gas station like girls - girls who had never smoked a cigarette. \n\nI could hear some ancient AC/DC riff dancing through my head as I shoved the end of my cigarette onto the hot metal at the end of my pistol. That first drag, that first damn drag, hit me like hell. I took a few more and nearly fell on my ass. Tobacco doesn't treat newbies well. That was just fine with me. \n\nI stumbled outside and passed six cigarettes out. I turned my back and walked toward the river as I heard six gunshots fire into the air. My lips formed a quiet smirk as the smoke rolled off my tongue." ]	1
	[WP] 6.5.Billion years from now, Earthlings are now a race of space-faring giants with an 80,000 year lifespan, thereby losing touch with their "humanity". Give us a little love story.	[ "There was a space station. There was a photograph. There was a book. Each told a story. It was a story crucial to each one of us, albeit in a strange way.\n\nShe was of the first generation to live \"beyond.\" Beyond the trappings of Earth. Beyond the century-esque lifespan. Beyond the concept of love. And yet, through all of this, she pondered. She pondered how the things that seemed so pressing in a 100-year lifespan became utterly silly in a lifespan of eighty thousand. She pondered what her parents would think if they knew that they were the last. She pondered what their love would be after eighty thousand years, instead of eighty.\n\nThe space station came first. It was 2297, and she was among the first generation to leave the surly bonds of Earth and embrace infinity. She never truly had a relationship with anyone. There were acquaintances here and there, and the occasional man who would look at her as if she were an item upon a shelf (which was utterly uninviting). Otherwise, she was alone in both time and space. But this was not to her detriment, for she thrived in silence.\n\nSilence. A funny thing, when you think about it. When she said goodbye to her parents for what would be the final time, the concept of a finale had never dawned upon her. That she would never see them again. That life would move so quickly yet so slowly. That she would never quite have what they had had. The great comedy of life seems to have a pacing that cannot be placed, and its curtain falls when we least expect.\n\nThere was a box that her parents had given her. She had never been one for sentiment, but her parents were. Goodness gracious, they certainly were. Some characterized her as cold and distant; she simply viewed herself as calculated and logical. For this reason, though she loved her parents very much, she chose not to open the box (lest risk a genuinely rare expression of emotion or sentimentality).\n\nIt had been 78,296 years since the departure. You may be asking how the hell a box could last that long, but it is the future -- and I am the author. For once in her life, she felt longing. Did she miss her parents? Of course. However, this was not it specifically.\n\nIt was time to open the box.\n\nShe carefully went into her room, locked the door (as if she knew anyone who could bother her), and retrieved the box. Without a hint of sentimentality, but with a sense of ravenous human curiosity, she opened the box. Within it were two items: a photograph, and a book.\n\nShe examined the photograph first. The people within it looked as if they had been lost to history; her parents. It was framed in one of those tacky, expensive \"forever frames\" that became popular once people started living seemingly forever, like her. A strikingly young version of her father, dressed very strangely, she noted, was down on one knee. A small box was in his hand, and he was wearing a smile that could only be accurately described as goofy.\n\nHer mother held her face, tears running, and her expression was hidden.\n\nOf all the things in the world he could have left for her, of all the advice and wisdom that could have been passed on to aid her journey, that sappy bastard chose to give her a photo of his proposal.\n\nShe had no idea how to feel. Quite literally, actually, for she discounted petty feelings long ago (what some called an unfortunate consequence of a long lifespan, she called a benefit).\n\nQuickly, with a sense of urgency not normally associated with her, she moved to the book. There had to be something here, something that would impact her life and make a difference. She opened it.\n\nThe book was blank. \n\nBlank! After nearly eighty thousand years, they left her this? She almost threw the book in fury when a single page near the front became unstuck. It was in her father's distinctly messy handwriting.\n\n \"A PICTURE IS WORTH ONE THOUSAND WORDS, THEY SAY. \n OUR STORY IS FOREVER CAPTURED -- THIS IS FOR YOU \n TO CAPTURE YOURS.\n\n - MOM & DAD\"\n\nAll fury immediately left her. She paused and, for the first time in thousands of years, thought. But not with her head, as people were exclusively accustomed to these days; no, she thought with her heart.\n\nEven after millennia of decomposing, her dad was still a hopeless romantic. He still had hope for her.\n\nAnd for the first time, she had hope in herself.", "A message in space debris reads:\n\n\"Red, white and the time of our life\" \n\nIn loving memory, this is what she said\n\nBlinked out lights, one after another dead dead dead\n\nOnce small in stature, people barely ascended\n\nA magnificent new form though humanity has descended\n\nMusical notes blend with times passing voices\n\nHeads full of pain tend to regret its past choices\n\n\"Red, white and the time of our life\"\n\nShe optioned home\n\nI'm now counted alone.\n\nEnslaved for a million years and suddenly free to chose to just be. \n\n\"Red, white and the time of our life\"\n\nThe vastness of space-time\n\nA complex race that is only mine.\n\nIt will take the rest of my life to get there.\n\nOne more minute reunited would be fair.\n\n\"Red, white and the time of our life\"\n\nI will repeat this until the end of time \n\nWhen the Universe returns me to my dearest Wife.\n\n\n\n\n\n", "He soared again, after millennia of planet-bound life, he was amidst the stars once more. It felt so strange, so ethereal, and yet so familiar. He chuckled, almost like riding a bike. The rest of his collective sent a wave of mild surprise at his emotional outburst. He contracted his mind a bit, bringing thoughts closer together. Even communicating at the speed of light, his neuronal units formed a loosely bound cloud several AU’s in circumference, it didn’t so much slow his thought as fragment it. It was not wholly unpleasant but he’d always preferred his collective as unified as possible. He was a bit of an old-timer in that regard, and there was a long ways to go. \n\n..\n\nThe first tendrils of his destination swept through his forward limbs. The beautifully tasting Homunculus nebula tingled all across the spectrum of his senses, like a ghostly soft touch or almost imperceptible musical notes. He allowed the thoughtless sensation to wash over him as he started to decelerate, pulling himself ever and ever tighter. Eta Carinae, the arcane name had a pleasant sound to it. She had made him wait for a very long time. Mere centuries ago his scout parties had finally let him know that she had started her last, spectacular dance. He had almost feared he would arrive too late. But there she was, in all her magnificent, terrible glory. As he glided ever closer, the sensations changed, the nebula no longer brushed past him, it was now a steady surge, like an incoming tide trying to push him back. The power behind this mass-exodus of gasses, high-charged particles and hard radiation was nearly unfathomable. He smiled a starry smile and started the necessary adaptations. \n\n..\n\nHe regarded himself. He had not taken this form for a long time. Granted it was about a thousand times the size it had originally been, but no human form, no matter how cleverly made, could have withstood the forces this close to the center. He had dressed himself in the robes of a Buddhist monk, head shaven and glimmering with the reflection of the most incredible event this side of time. Heaven’s altar roared before him, a twin engine of creation and destruction. The fabric of his body was continuously assaulted as space-time itself contorted and thrashed in the grasp of the dying double-star. He paid it little heed, the collective would keep him together for as long as needed. And when Eta Carina would finally blow, it would remake her birth ground with such incredible force that he would be scattered beyond return, no matter how much exotic energy had kept him together so far. All that had been pushed to the back of his mind. It had been a very long time since he’d felt nervous, but now his senses were spread and sweeping his surrounding in broad repeating strokes. \n\nHe felt Her. \n\nIf he had had lungs, he would have sighed in relief. She had just cleared the outer edge of the main nebula, fashionably late as always. Memories of long forgotten times flooded over him. As he trained all his senses on her, forgetting even the violence around him, her beauty overtook him, as it always had. She wore a simple red dress, fitting her form perfectly. Eta Carina was reflected in her eyes and made all the more intimately spectacular by it. She had also brought a tree. Mythical in its proportions, even compared to her impressive size, its branches were bare and its trunk almost dead, save for a lonely patch of brown bark near the bottom. He did not think he could have loved her more than he already did, and yet she had proved him wrong once more. Wordlessly she crossed the distance between them. Gently he retracted his senses, as he felt her do the same. When she finally reached him, he saw no more than what his eyes allowed him, and felt no more than what his skin told him. Their lips touched softly, a kiss more than 60.000 years overdue. There was no need for words. A promise made so unimaginably long ago, neither of them had known for certain whether it had actually ever happened. So many civilizations had risen and fallen. Countless stars had been born and collapsed. Humanity itself had been stretched so far beyond recognition, made into myth and eventually forgotten, that it had become an utterly meaningless term. They had travelled so far and so long, had transformed and reimagined and lost themselves so many times that even their own names had escaped them. Yet here they were. \n\nThey held hands and sat beneath the tree by the raging light of a galaxy ender. The wait was over. \n", "She tensed, body coiled and hidden in the grassy muck of the outer plains. She’d spotted her target, high up in the hulking trees, not 50 feet away. His long legs dangled down from the thick branches, as he leaned against its trunk. He was scanning the horizon, she realized, looking for her. A smug grin spread across her angular face. He would not spot her, at least, not until she wanted him to. He was an escaped prisoner, a prisoner of science. A sample was collected from every new planet the Earthlings encountered, to be experimented upon and understood. It was, after all, only courteous to understand the civilization one was about to conquer. Her grin faded into her usual cold and collected expression, focused on her task. She was to collect him and return him to the great scientists in the inner city-home. This was not their original earth; the city-home was much more suited to the Earthlings needs; large, strong, and flawless, reflecting the true nature of the human race. She’d grown up with stories about the beginnings of their mighty fight across the stars. Well thought out battle plans and a true understanding of their need to subjugate underpinned the countless victories humans had enjoyed. Larger bodies, larger armies, larger laboratories followed. Knowledge is power. Knowledge of all the planets, all the stars was the aim of the game… and it was her job to return this wayward piece of knowledge, up in his tree, to the laboratory. \n\nShe readied her instruments with fast, precise movements. 15,000 years of training and experience allowed her mind to wander whilst her hands worked. The knowledge they could gain from this new kind was immeasurable! He was a very fine mix, from what she understood. Ancestry of a few old human rebels and a dazzling race of atomic energy. So much raw consciousness in that energy, so much power and intelligence in humans. The mixed result would surely be a powerful foe, yet she felt no fear. It was time to move. She rose out of the grass, striding towards the tree, strength in her every move. He fell forward, stomach pressed against the branch he was sitting on. She came to a halt, simultaneously shifting her device into her right hand and aiming at his leg. The metal wire sprung out, flying high into the air, grasping his ankle as she yanked downwards. He fell. Do not harm the specimens. She stared at him coldly, he would be fine, he was almost as tall as her, and the tree was no great height. \n\nA muffled groan escaped him. He rolled over, spitting dirt from his lips. \n\n“Bit of a warning next time, eh big girl?” \n\nHis mouth formed a smile. This she was used to… but his eyes. Something behind them was wrong… she grasped for the word in her mind, and finally hit on “warm”. She shuddered. Of course, an ancestry of energy would do that to a being. Warmth inside eyes. She cleared her throat.\n\n“You are being returned to lab 45.A. You were and are unauthorized to leave. You are in my care. You are advised not to speak, I am on-line, and currently recording. A paralegal team will review the audio if I deem it necessary, and your lab-subject rights will be removed. Are we understood?”\n\nThere it was again, that light in his eyes, accompanied by a smile. So alien. \n\n“Do I nod, or may I speak my understanding?” \n\nShe was puzzled. He clearly understood, yet was directly disobeying her. Pointing out a slight flaw in her instructions, in fact. All whilst smiling! How... again, she struggled for the words. She settled on obnoxious. It saddened her, to see how the energy-beings part of his ancestry affected him so. Where was the human side? The intelligence, the cold power? \n\nShe cuffed his hands in the same metal which had clasped around his legs, then released his lower extremities from the metallic device. This would allow him to walk, as they began the four day journey back to the city-home from which he had run. \n\nInevitably, he did not stop speaking. The occasional quip or sarcastic jibe filled most of the first two days. It was the third day in which things went drastically wrong. \n\nAfter three days of walking, she threw a fire onto the ground. It lit immediately, as designed, prompting her to throw up a ceiling and 4 wooden poles to hold it, from one of her many devices. The night was warm, they would not need walls. The city was in sight, a smoggy outline in the distance. She could not wait to return to it's comforting functionality. Her job almost done, she settled into a quiet self satisfaction. That is, until he spoke. \n\n\"I love my home, too.\"\n\n\"What?\" \n\n\"I said, I love it. I see you looking at that smudge on the skyline over there. Your home. Not my kind of scene but to each his own and all that. You love yours. I miss mine. Home.\" \n\nHe looked at her, across the fire...the light in his eyes still shone, but it was different. It had a keener, even more alien edge than before. She cast her mind back to her centuries in school. She had read, she was clever, she searched for what this thing in his eyes could be. \n\nFor the first time in her long life, her body acted outside of her will, her hand flying up to her heart. It hit her. In his eyes. It was pain, and it was longing, and somehow she knew that it was so, so human. His expressive eyes and ridiculous comments could not stem from his energy-being blood, because they were so clearly and beautifully human. \n\nHer heart beat faster against her hand, still pressed tightly to her chest. She looked at him in surprise and, another first, fear. How could she know those feelings were human? She was human. Why did her heart react in this way, pumping blood through her veins in response? \n\nFurious, she stared at him. She had one day left. One day of their journey to understand what this... human had done. After all, knowledge is power. \n", "They were discovered on the remote planet called LIR-567 by the interstellar maps, but the natives, according to the records, called it Eden. It had been one of the earliest colonies outside of their original solar system. Naming had not been very creative in those early days of humanity. They considered themselves a little better now. \n\nThe things could barely be called humans, and they certainly weren't people. The population had bottlenecked tens of thousands of years ago despite once being a large colony of several billion. They'd cut off contact when the last of the long voyage ships left for good, choosing to stay behind where they could just barely see their original sun in a telescope. Fools. They'd avoided genetic maladies with stored genetic material while the technology lasted, but it was all old. They were comfortable, content, living in an almost original atmosphere. They had no need to evolve, no technological means to grow physically, mentally, spiritually. \n\nBy the time the archeology team found them, they were living in caves, their speech beyond normal translators. Experts sussed out ways to speak to them, but their thoughts were minimalistic. Food, fables, sex... Many found them distasteful, but more found them amusing. That faction won in the vote between mercifully euthanasizing all two hundred of them and bringing them back to the traveling zoological ship Schonburnn.\n\nOn Eden there had been two tribes living near but apart, and so they preserved those groups, putting them in separate habitats. Giving them proper nutrition, adding simple toys for their enrichment. Perhaps the little humans thought the gods had taken them to some heaven or another. They treated their caretakers with the reverence of a god, but that may have been because their six foot tall bodies were so dwarfed by the twenty feet of the average person. \n\nOne tribe, deemed the reds for their preference in painting themselves in it, grew to become used to the visitors behind the barrier. Even became performing tricks, trying to make plays. They always seemed happy when people laughed and clapped.\n\nThe other tribe, the blues, they were an angrier group. After people grew bored at them throwing their little rocks at the barrier and their squeaky, odd cursing was no longer novel, the barrier was altered to be one-way. The head caretaker said it was simply stressing them too much. Her assistant planned on doing her senior thesis on the differences between the tribes. They merely reverted to their old ways of gathering what was put in their enclosure. While the young loved the reds more, scientists enjoyed the blue. How fascinating, they were almost real cave people, they'd observe. A window into the past.\n\nThey were simple creatures. Why wouldn't they be? They were so short lived. A year was forever to them because their lives were no more than eighty. In a month they had forgotten any other life. They had simple fears, simple wants. No depression, no sense of responsibility. No wonder people loved them.\n\nAnd this was true of all the creatures, save for two. One blue, one red.\n\nAt first they all tried to get out. Why wouldn't they? They did not yet know that this was a far preferable cage to the rock they'd been rescued from. But within a week they'd settled, all but those two. They continued to try to escape for another two weeks. An eternity from their perspective. \n\nAnd after that, mere sadness took over. They'd sit by the walls, projecting its pictures, listless. They would not eat, they would barely take water. No amusement would distract them.\n\nThe caretakers were too hesitant to administer drugs without more research into their anatomy, but they were unwillingly to lose even two of their precious specimens and moneymakers. They ran tests, read studies from the far past dredged up from the bowels of early days, what was left after so much time anyway. But they found nothing medical, nothing psychological, no reason only these two creatures were so similarly affected.\n\nIt was an intern, barely past adolescence at twenty thousand years old, who first suggested it.\n\n\"Maybe,\" xe said, hesitant for good reason. \"Maybe they're in love.\"\n\n\"With what?\" snorted the head caretaker.\n\n\"With each other.\"\n\nIt was a foolish notion. What would these beasts know of love? They could no more devout themselves to beauty or to an idea or a theory than they could grow wings and fly through space. They formed attachments with each other, yes, but those seemed to be strictly for physical pleasure or help with raising the young or other domestic duties. How could something that only lived to eighty really know what love it?\n\n\"They're going to die soon anyway,\" insisted the intern. \"Let's try.\"\n\nSo they took the red and the blue from their enclosures, away from their tribe, and they gave them a place of their own.\n\nThe reaction was immediate. They embraced, they pressed their faces together, their hands went all over their bodies as they wailed in their high pitches and cried their salt water out. And that night they made love. Even for such a disgusting act, even the head caretaker was touched by the primitive display. Even in their small minds, even in their simplicity, there was some vague notion of love in these creatures.\n\nIf the pair missed their tribes, they gave no indication. They began to paint themselves in purple and spent their days together. Sometimes doing activities apart, but always coming to sleep in one another's arms. \n\nThey showed mild depression again in several years. The intern, who had made further progress in communicating with the creatures than anyone before xer, made the sign for \"want\" before their window. It took him a day or so to decipher their meanings.\n\n\"They want a baby,\" the intern relayed. \"A child.\"\n\n\"Can't they make one? The others do.\"\n\n\"They're both females.\"\n\n\"I always forget that. Primitives.\"\n\nThe other tribes were always abandoning their young if they thought them beyond help. The caretakers usually managed to get to them before they tried to bury them and would re-start their hearts and tend to them before releasing them back to the tribe. In the early days they had completely rejected these \"ghost children\", as the intern claimed they called them, and they had to be reared by hand. They sometimes switched the tribes' babies about. The primitives never noticed.\n\nIn several days there happened to be such a rejected infant. The creatures bred like crazy given enough food and time. The team was more than happy to have one less primitive to care for.\n\nThe lead caretaker carried the infant in the crease of xer palm, carefully and slowly. Xe leaned over the barrier, sitting it down before the two members of the purple tribe.\n\nBoth regarded it for a moment before one (xe could no longer remember which had been red and which had been blue) took it up and cradled it. They were both leaking again. Xe wondered if they were sad and would kill it. But instead they took it to their cave. On the monitor, xe saw them mix up some of their purple paint from their berries and mark its forehead purple.\n\nThe lead caretaker felt a stinging of xer eyes. They were leaking despite no irritations near the eyes. Only a little, enough to quickly dab. Otherwise xe'd be in a cage next to the stupid little creatures. Another primitive human. \n" ]	5
	[WP] You are addicted to a drug that breaks down your nervous system during withdrawals. You Just ran out.	[ "I feel golden when on muzzle. Absolutely one-hundred precent golden. The first puff I ever took was like the first time I had sex on ecstasy. It's that good. Jazz, in a way, introduced it to me one time when we were party crashin' some rich bitch's house. Kid's drivin' over there telling me about what's-her-name and how he found out she was hosting a party at her daddy's house. Told me he was getting into her pants tonight, whatever, wasn't paying too much attention. The thing about Jazz is he's all talk when it comes to women. Kid knows how to find out anything about anything like nobody's business, but he's an absolute zero when it comes to interacting with people, 'specially the ladies. Guess that's why I hung out with him... made me feel better bout myself. And hey, he knows his way around drugs.\n\nWe get there and it's like a pill-popper's wet dream. Jazz goes in and immediately ditches me to find so-and-so, and I go out to continue my affair with Xanax; figured if I was lucky, maybe I'd make out with a half-dozen. Not even five minutes go by and some balding, middle-aged dude is passing out some sort of aerosol. Outta nowhere, the guy strong arms me in the chest, stops me dead in my tracks, and says, \"Try.\" I'm all standin' here trying not to lose my cool, and he simply presents me with this weird lookin' inhaler type crap. \"It's called muzzle,\" he says. \"It's new.\"\n\nWhat a damn psycho, I think. I try to brush him aside, and the guy grips onto my shoulder and places his lips onto my ear. His moist breath goin', \"You're looking for a hot, cheap, slutty blonde, I get it. What I'm about to give you is a beautiful virgin redhead. And she's all yours.\" It's like the guy's speakin' my language. I grab the inhaler and take just one puff.\n\nWhat happens next is what happens on a daily occurrence for me now. Everything in the room turns sunny. Not bright like it's hurting your eyes, but your entire surroundings feel warm. Soon after that, it's like time literally slows down... like literally. I can't even describe it, but everything and everyone stops moving. Then, you feel no pain, no despair. Everything is happy. I start walking on what feels like marshmallows for legs, and I scan over all the luxurious furniture and rush slowly to a nice, black leather couch. The moment my bare skin touches the fabric, a million and one sensations rush through my body like a hurricane of donuts and porn stars and White Castle. Next thing I know I'm crying tears of pure joy. I shit you not, I'm crying. I'm so happy on my little leather cloud. I'm looking around me and people, I can tell that they're feeling what I'm feeling. I'm not the only one on muzzle at this party. Holy shit am I happy. Like balls to the wall.\n\n\nNext thing I know, it's three months later, I'm in my apartment, and I can't seem to shake off this stuff. There's only two women that I have ever loved in my twenty-seven years of existence, and neither come even close to how much I adore muzzle. I do anything for it... literally anything... I shit you not.\n\nMy dealer Rodrigo comes every three days and I hand him what little money I make. I haven't had a full meal in almost two weeks. I think yesterday I sat and squirted ketchup in my mouth for dinner. Thing is, he hasn't been for five days. I have been without muzzle for ahlmost twenty sheven hours. This isn't good. The first time I went thish long without it, I was hearing voices. Like sinister voices, ones that I'm hearing right now. They're wizperign words in a booming, deep voice, and later words in a high-pitchzed, screeeaming voice. I cannot for the life of me tell you what the words mean. But... but... Goddamn...\n\nLike I said, I haven't been going this loung without the damn drug, and suddenly things start feeling numb. My arm's maaaaakin' involuhntry movements, smazms... fuggin' shift.\n\nThththe worst that has could happen is Rod issss jailed or sumthin. Then suddly, my brain feels like nails are being driven through it. I'm trying to scream but, nothn coms out. I tttry to put my headn my hands, bbbut I cahunt move'em. It starts getting' hard to breathe. Then suddenly. Nothing.\n\n\nNext thing I know, I become completely conscious again, deep within my own head. I'm lying on my side on the floor, my left arm stretched out in front of me. I'm still in my apartment alone. There's foam dripping out of my mouth, and I've almost certainly pissed myself. Nothing's moving at all... nothings moving, I can't move nothin'. Then... suddenly, the door moves. Some balding, middle aged dude walks in with Rodrigo. They're talking in some nonsensical sounds. I can't tell if it's because my brain is being deprived of oxygen, but I'm almost certain their skin looks purple... like.. I don't know, magenta-ish. The balding dude looks at me, says one more thing to Rod, and walks out. Rod then comes up to me, grabs me by both arms, and drags me out of the apartment. His pure-golden eyes are staring deep into mine. The creep's licking his lips and dragging me down the stairs, then outside into a blaze of spotlights. He's dragging me towards the light.\n\n\nI\"m staring into his eyes, and I'm feeling golden. Absolutely one-hundred percent golden.\n\nEdit: needed to fix my format.", "\"I know you don't just let this shit come in whenever your mule shows up. You're a high service fellow. A man. Who values. The particulars of good business practices.\" I'm smiling as I get up. My gait is not as composed as my voice. Having a shattered femur feels like the top of my leg is a bag of melting ice, slipping all over itself, sliding out of alignment. \"A man of your calibur is as prepared as a mother. Fucking. Boyscout.\" He opens up another ventilation hole, this one in my belly. \"You hab a stash. Here. Wherwe?\" There is no pain. The blood pooling in my stomach and dribbling up my throat only makes me feel like my words are bleeding. \"WHBERE!?\" I am manic. I am levitated from the gravity of myself. My left arm explodes. \"Yoo hab terbibble aim wheb youlr mortifuied.\" I spray at him. All his bullets are safe inside me now. I wave my new knife in his face. My knife is the shard in my arm that used to lead to my hand. I put it in his eye. Just a little. He howls. Just that one little puncture on a non-vital organ. A non-vital organ for which he has a SPARE, and he is willing to give up everything that's important to him. That's what bodily awareness does for you, yeah? But I'm a hypocrite. Somewhere in the howls there was \"furnace.\" Ah the furnace, bright glowing sunshiny furnace! It was right behind me the whole time! I reach my hand into the glowing love, and take a handful of that thick black liquid. I drip drop it into my eye. God how I've missed that good old sizzle pop! \"BRIGHT AND PRICKLY LIKE A ROSE BUSH!!!\" I cackle. Mmmmm I feel that heart squeezing my juices all through my tubes again. Time for the cacophony. The bag of ice is a fucking carnival of broken china dolls. I am Niagara Falls, all crashing water and eroding rock. My rocks are off. My holes are welling up with starlight, and finally, so am I. I turn to my howling friend, letting my infinite needles penetrate me in ways nothing else can penetrate. My smile is a crack on a rock face. \"This is what I was looking for.\" and I stick my head in the firey furnacey sunshiny good.", "First post. Hope you like it:\n\nThe last dose wore off a while ago and the tips of his fingers were already tingling, signaling the numbness that would follow. Since he first tried it he had only ever gone without the drug for 2 hours, max, and he was now approaching the 4 hour mark. He had only ever heard horror stories of what happens when a user, a junkie like him, ran out of the dope unexpectedly and couldn’t get more in time. Nevertheless, he had always made sure to have an extra stash, an emergency dose, to help stave off the inevitable outcome of withdrawal. \n\nNow it as too late. He was far from home, with no money, and no connections, and to his horror, the withdrawal was happening faster, and more severely, than he had ever considered. He had always assumed it was mythical, as if the users who lived had embellished the real symptoms in order to keep the others hooked, fearful of the unknown, too weak to do anything but succumb to the addiction and inject more of the mysterious drug into their withering bodies. \n\nLike these others, he had tried the usual assortment of so-called ‘gateway’ drugs and never found one that did what this one did. It was inexplicable to the uninitiated, something he would never wish on anyone friend or enemy, but not because of the euphoria, which was like nothing he’d ever experienced, but because of what happened next. Like Heroin it was an immediate rush (the first time anyway) yet the sensation was as if he’d combined all the best highs he’d ever had into one spell-binding, awe-inspiring, god-is-everywhere mind trip that was better than anything he could have ever imagined. \n\nThat was, of course, until it wasn’t. The first time it started to wear off he had a similar sensation. Well, this was unsettling he thought as he prepared the next dose. He wondered if he had done something wrong, or gotten a bad batch. He cursed then as he spilled a bit off the spoon not realizing then it was caused by a side effect he was experiencing now. As soon as he could inject the dose the pain subsided yet the high was muted, not what he expected at all for the second time around. Jeezus, he thought, was this what it was like for everybody? From that point on it was a continual race to stay high.\n\nNow, a mere 6 weeks later, he stood alone, panicked, sweating, his heart beating harder and harder. Was this from the withdrawal he wondered or from the shock realization of what was about to happen to him? What had started as a faint tingle eventually grew into a warm burning ranging from his extremities up his limbs in waves. Every few minutes these waves were intensifying and traveling further into his core. The pain began to intensify and he knew was running out of time. \n\n\nEpilogue: The distant headlights approached slowly, or so it seemed as I lay by the side of the road. I was hanging on, but just barely, after stumbling along for a few hundred yards and my legs giving out when the nerves finally failed. This cursed drug ironically worked from the outside in as it receded from the extremities of the nervous system leaving the senses most intact until the end. It was a wicked trick to play on those unlucky enough to experience it. I watched the lights, could hear it getting closer, but could not move, or cry for help as it rolled by. \n\nWas it stopping? I didn’t know, I was fading, and quickly; thinking again of that first time. Why hadn’t I just brought some more?\n\nEDIT: added spacing between paragraphs for clarity\n", "The blaring sound of a truck outside wakes me up. I take a look at my cell phone to see that its 2:51 PM, which is a little later than normal but it was worth the rager I had last night. If only I can remember how much Proto I had… the headache I’m feeling right now shows that it was probably too much. \n\nWhatever, it was probably great.\n\nWake up time is time for me to get a bump to start my day, probably to go along with some leftover pizza that I could find from last night. I go to my stash and can’t believe what I’m seeing. I had five grams of it yesterday, there’s no way I could’ve taken that much. I mean, I know how much I love Proto but that woulda kllled me. But this crash is too bad, I need some now.\n\nFirst thing I can do is reach for my phone. I miss it… that’s weird. I try again and grab it easily. Let’s just dial up Chip and I’ll have my morning bump in no time. The pause between each ring feels like more and more of an eternity. After living through what feels like five years he finally answers. \n\n“What’s good, man?’’ \n\n“Chip, man, can we meet up ASAP?”\n\n“Dude I’m all out. The whole city is man… nothings coming soon.” Words never sounded worse in my life. I’m feeling a pain in my gut and I can’t even comprehend this shit.\n\n“What the fuck’re you talking about? We met up yesterday!” All of a sudden I’m feeling crushed. I can’t even concentrate. I need this stuff. I just need to stay coherent enough to get some more and I’ll be good. It’s all good man, I’m gonna get some and I’ll be good. \n\nChip starts saying something but I can’t wrap my head around it. \n\nIt’s been five years that I’ve been on Proto and I made sure to never come down. It’s so cheap and so amazing that there was no reason to ever think about it. And Chip always was in good supply and had more than enough at all times. Why be sober when I can function entirely on this drug? What could go wrong?\n\nI still remember going into work regularly and getting by fine. Thanksgiving was nothing – My family was so dysfunctional they didn’t even notice a thing. \n\nI can feel the anger building up in me, but my brain can’t find a way to express it. It feels like I’m trapped in my own body, everything is going numb and everything is breaking down.\n\n“You there Jack? Can you hear me?” I hear coming from somewhere. I wish I knew where. \n\n“AAAHHEELLLPP” I call into nothing. Nothing returns. What happened to my supply? What happened to me? \nChip. I need to talk to Chip.\n\n“Ch-Chip, I-I-I-I n-n-need some-some-SOME!” I yell with all my might, after picking up the phone that I dropped. Wait, when did I drop the phone?\n\n“Dude, I’m telling you I can’t help you. Don’t you remember that huge bust that happened last week? And what the fucks with you? Why’re you talking like a bitch?” He responded coolly. He got it together. I don’t. I feel things unwinding and\n" ]	4
	[WP]On a lazy weekend, you discover you have the ability to jump between parallel time-lines. After going a bit overboard with it, you find yourself lost, wanting to return home, but unsure how.	[ "Who's the President of the United States?\n\n\"Al Gored\"\n\njump\n\n\"George Lopez\"\n\njump\n\n\"Arnold\"\n\n\n\njump\n\n\"The united states? Where's that?\"\n\nFuck, I'm only getting further away. But what else can I do? I don't know how to jump back.\n\n\n\njump\n\n...\n\njump\n\n...\n\n\n\njump\n\nI'm a couple thousand jumps in, people started looking strange around a hundred jumps in, and only got stranger the further I went. But for the last six jumps no there hasn't been anything. No people, no buildings, only dead trees and purplish grass.\n\n\n\njump\n\n...\n\njump\n\n...\n\njump\n\n...\n\nThere's nothing, world after world of nothing. Several worlds didn't even have a breatheable atmosphere. I can't stop here though, I'd die of starvation.\n\n\n\njump\n\n...\n\njump\n\n....\n\njump\n\n...\n\nI'm running out of breath\n\n\n\njump\n\n\n\njump\n\n\njump\n\nI can't find any world with a breathable atmosphere\n\n\n\njump\n\n\njump\n\n\njump\n" ]	1
	[WP] Video games are illegal. You are an undercover cop about to do a bust.	[ "We lost communication with our man inside over an hour ago. The underground video game market was notorious for swallowing these young guns whole. Whether they deserted, bit the big one, or never really existed at all, the men inside had a knack for disappearing. Makes sense really. Hell, all we had to identify the guy on was the code-word we sent him. He probably took off hoping the other gangs wouldn't find out he was a snitch. Even if he skipped town, they'd fuck up his family for that. Either way, we're going in.\nThe heavy rain was deafening as it battered the walls of the trailer. The SWAT team was huddled behind giant stacks of boxes, each filled with old video game cases, the discs swapped for blanks of course. \"Weapons hot.\" crackled in our ears, the team leader's whisper magnified by his throat mic. The flurry of clicks and scrapes of metal on metal sent chills down my spine. When I joined the cyber intel unit, they had told us that we would have to be present at crime scenes to identify the informant, but they failed to mention that the crimes could still be in progress. The radio crackled our ears again, \"They're approaching the gate.\". The helicopter, too far off to hear over the rain, was keeping tabs on us, relaying the mission progress back to headquarters. The truck came to a stop, sending a couple of us stumbling. There was some unintelligible yelling outside, then a loud buzzer. The truck began to creep forward again. \"They're in.\", the helo still giving the play-by-play. The plan was simple, a basic trojan horse raid. The informant sets up a deal between the kingpin and a \"supplier\", and we deliver a SWAT team directly into their warehouse. The informant simply has to surrender peacefully, say the code-word, and he's granted immunity. All we have to do is not get shot. Suddenly the rain sounded heavier at the front of the trailer, then moved to the back, and suddenly it was silent. We were inside the warehouse. The truck came to a halt once again. We maintained our footing this time. We heard the the doors to the cab slam shut, and the acting began. \"Dimitri, I presume?\", we heard the buyer ask. We've found that these transactions are easier to pull off if we pretend to be Russian, still not really sure why. \"And my driver, Vlad.\", Det. Winters responded, presumably motioning to Lt. Springfield. \"Do you have the money?\", Winters asked, loudly enough to be picked up on even my mic. He needs to calm down. \"$500,000, yes we have it here, but first we would like to see the merchandise.\", the buyer sounding oblivious to what seemed like obvious acting. \"Of course.\", Winters snapping his fingers. Springfield undid the latches at the other end of the trailer, and light poured in as he slowly opened the doors. We crouched lower, sinking as deeply into the shadows as our bulky vests would allow. He opened one of the boxes, tipping it towards the buyer. As he leaned in to inspect it, we could see that he was a white man, mid-thirties, heavy but not fat, and looked surprisingly unimpressive. He seemed to be dressed plainly, though all I could really see from my vantage point was his blue sweatshirt. He nodded, seeming pleased as he looked up from the open box, scanning the stacks of others that lined the trailer. \"Alright!\", he shouted suddenly, and walked away from the trailer. Springfield and Winters followed, leaving the doors open. We slowly began creeping out from the shadows, toward the back of the trailer. Once the money exchanged hands, the SWAT team would have to neutralize the situation as quickly as possible. \"Give them the money!\" we heard the buyer shout, further away, echoing throughout the warehouse. \"Easy boys.\" growled through radios in our ears, the team leader kneeling near the doors, holding his fist straight up. Even in back, I felt vulnerable, the only one without a sub-machinegun, and I was never even very good with this Glock. \"Thank you, gentlemen, it has truly been a pleasure\", Winters delivered the signal with poetic enthusiasm. Flashbangs flew out of the back of the truck as the entire SWAT team sprang into action, screaming \"POLICE DON\"T MOVE!!\" over and over. Suddenly there was a flurry of gunfire, peppering the thin walls of the trailer behind me. I pushed forward, still the last one out of the truck, and quickly turned and dove behind the double wheels of the trailer. A single shot punctuated the panic accompanied by momentary silence. \"ONE DOWN, THREE BEHIND THOSE FORKLIFTS!!\", gunfire once again being exchanged. I got to my feet and ran to the cab, hoping to avoid any stray bullets. From there I noticed someone huddled by some barrels, not moving, just, hiding. \"GET ON THE GROUND!!! GET ON THE GROUND!!!\", the gunfire stopped long enough to presume the SWAT team was taking the other three into custody. I sprinted toward the figure gun drawn, and shouted \"POLICE PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE EM!!!\". The man, startled, spring to his knees from the fetal position hands in the air, eyes wide with panic. He stuttered,\"I-i-i-it's m-me! I-i-i'm the i-i-informant!\". \"WHAT\"S THE WORD!?!? TELL ME THE WORD!!!!\". He stammered with considerable effort through his now visible tears, \"B-B-B-B-IRD! BIRD! BIRD! BIRD IS THE WORD!!!!\" ", "(Had to post in chunks sorry if this is too long.)\n\nCode.\n\nThe code was everywhere. Tracks of torn napkins with code scrawled on both sides clung to the side of my sweaty ankles as I shuffled out of Watson's shambled bedroom and into the main room where the glittering screens flashed lines of a language more dead than Latin with a heroin overdose buried under a pile of disco records.\n\nIt was hot. My dick was stuck so far up my leg I could have pissed in my own asshole. I untangled my anatomy with one greasy hand as the other fumbled in my pajama pocket for a Shanghai cigarette.\n\nThe meek had inherited the earth. Read some Asimov or Heinlein and you'll get the picture. We all saw it coming, but what was there to do? Digital calculators for math homework had evolved into the government, the corporations, the environment, the trees, the ferns, even the sun, stars, and moon. \n\nThe moon was brandished with a circuit board band-aid the size of Russia with an ironic LED billboard commanding all of Earth to \"OBEY\". The fact that the machine had recognized the sheer tactlessness of its own tyranny was what itched the most. They knew it was fucked up, and they knew we had all seen it coming. And we'd done nothing to stop it. Not until it was too late.\n\n", "Cold rain falls down like lead, and the Constable’s heart is full of dread, \nAnd I caress the handle of the pistol resting in my harness. \nThe night gives us no solace, and the world haunts me in its calmness \nAs we move through the darkened alleys towards our target. \nThe Constable balances her shotgun, ready to provide its violent exclaim. \n\n\n\nThe house appears like any other, and the fence provides adequate cover \nAs we ready ourselves to advance and break down the door. \nThe Constable appears to be uneasy, and her gaze tells that she is queasy \nBut it is too late to leave her here and bring another who is ready more. \nThe others have reached their spots on the far side of our quarry’s solemn domain. \n\n\n\nI send the shivering Constable in first, and her shotgun escorts with its piercing burst \nAnd we pour into the house with our weapons drawn. \nThe lights inside are all so dim, and the darkness threatens an ending grim \nSo I move the Constable close behind me to help her find her brawn. \nThese criminal artists are not nearly above providing traps to wound and maim. \n\n\n\nAs we move on in our deadly sport I hear a pistol’s loud report \nAnd fall sharply to the ground clutching in pain at my chest. \nThe Constable does her grave work, and dispatches my assailant with a smirk \nThen turns to check that I’ve indeed been saved by my vest. \nAs she helps me to my feet she seems almost to feel a sense of shame. \n\n\n\nI struggle nervously to catch my breath, having so narrowly escaped certain death \nAnd I see the Constable trying to hold back confused tears. \nI reassure her that she’s done her part, and I look around at the graphic art, \nThis is where the criminals used levels and characters to exorcize their fears. \nFor all of these groups I’ve infiltrated I still always feel the twinge of shame. \n\n\n\n“Do not shed tears for these men,” I tell these officers time and again. \n“They are the worst and most dangerous of their kind.” \nThe Constable nods rather than assume, and helps investigate the room, \nThough I can understand the feelings that grip her mind. \nIt seems a waste to do such violence over these beautiful, harmless games. \n\nEDIT: formatting\n", "\"Listen up, folks.\" \n\nSergeant Ingham's voice cut the silence in the APC, and we all stood to attention. \n\n\"We've got an estimated ten hostiles at location Alpha. Your job is to sweep and clear. Detain any individuals you find that are unarmed. If you see anyone, and I mean anyone, who might be armed, you put them down without hesitation, do you get me?\" \n\n\"Yes Sir!\" Our resounding shout was deafening. That's how Ingham liked it. Some say he lost his hearing ten raids back, before my time, and that's why he likes it loud. \n\n\"Alright. T-Minus ten.\" He shouted. \"Squad B, you sweep from the first door. Squad A, you're with me. Second door. Marks are going up on your HUD's now. Get into position and remember, do not advance until Delman gives the signal, got it?!\" \n\nAs he tapped his armband a series of holo-glyphs hummed into existence in my vision. They hovered somewhere out beyond the APC, shifting left, right, until centering upon the guttural wind-down of the hydro engine. I felt a lump in my throat descend upon hearing my name. \n\n\"Alright ladies, fall out. First one to get a kill gets a beer on me after the mission.\" \n\nThe APC erupted with movement. My squad, B, rolled out with speed. It was finally time. My first real raid. \n\n\"Lets bag and tag us some sicko's.\" Private Sherman squealed with glee as she switched her MP5 on. \n\n\"Private Delman, you're up.\" \n\nI was the infiltrator this round. On the mission start we all picked our classes, and I was designated the bait. All the good classes were taken, and Ingham liked his teams balanced. My first raid was a real bust. No one had been there. I got to hold a gun and got XP for it nonetheless, but it wasn't satisfying in the least. \n\nIn a metal shirt and shorts, I advanced towards the dimly lit door of Hillside Apartments. Door One. \nOutside stood two men, Caucasian. One had glasses. The other a ball cap. Neither seemed armed. \n\nI swallowed the lump in my throat again. \n\n\"Whats up, fellas?\" \n\nThey folded their arms. They were scrawny and I'm sure I could take them, but I knew the point wasn't to engage. \n\n\"Not much man. You lookin to game?\" \n\n\"Hell yes, brother.\" \n\n\"Check him.\" \n\nA pang of fear chilled my stomach. Glasses patted me down, came up empty. \n\n\"He's clean. Let him in.\" \n\n\"Enjoy the game, brother.\" Ball Cap said. \n\nWith an opening of the rusted door, I was in. Glasses lead me down an old hallway, towards a utility door. I tried to tone down my anticipation. It was palpable. \nIngham said they were all gamers. Intel suggested First Person Shooters, mostly. The worst kind. They were sick, especially FPS types. My mother told me about decades earlier when FPS guys would shoot up schools full of kids, kill their parents, kill everyone. Each one of these freaks was a timebomb. Who knew when they would walk into a mall and kill everyone. I dreamt of the day when I could put a bullet between the eyes of a gamer. Rabid little grease-faced monkeys who just wanted to bite and maim and drink the blood of their victims. They were the monsters that went bump in the night. I clenched my fists as I thought of the Squads ready to pounce. \n\nI hoped they were armed. \n\nEvery single one of them. \n\nAs the door opened, I readied myself for the best night of my life. The mission would succeed. Counter-Terrorists would win. I might even get an achievement for this. \n\nI expected a rancid den full of monsters. Blood on the walls, rot, and stockpiles of ammunition. Cabinets of war games, training sims for their filthy gamer apocalypse. \n\nWhat I saw was a different story. \n\nThey were kids. Some no older than Sixteen. There were a few couches, arranged in a group around a single television. Controllers stemmed from a single console in the center. I squinted as the door closed behind me, and tried to make out the game. In shock I realized I was in the wrong place. The colors were bright, there were fields of green, their characters were solving puzzles and saving animals. These couldn't be the gamers. This had to be a mistake. \n\n\"Have a seat, dude. Want something to drink?\" \n\nI was so shocked I couldn't think of what to say. I trembled at the thought of the automatics waiting outside the door. The hell and damnation ready to descend on these kids. \n\n\"You alright, man?\" \n\n\"Yeah, I'm...I'm fine. Are these the games you guys play?\" \n\n\"Yeah man, it's a classic. Called 'Windwaker.' Personal favorite. Dean's turn right now, next Ian wants to play some Animal Crossing. What games do you want? We have a library.\" \n\n\"What...what about First Person Shooters? Do you have...do you have any of those?\" \n\n\"Nah man, not my thing. Most of us just like adventure games and puzzlers. Besides, First Person games are hard to come by. Most got burned.\" \n\nThis was a mistake. I hadn't signed up for something like this. \n\nI couldn't finish my thought before the door exploded into kindling behind me. Among the cacophony of shrieks and gunshots and armor I managed to see everything. Boots kicked in the screen. Fists connected with young faces. Glasses took a bullet to the face. Before the smoke and noise cleared, the couches were soaked with blood, and five people were dead on the floor. The remaining few cried like babies with kevlar knees in their backs. \n\nAnd I just stood there, staring at the madness. \n\n\"Good work, Delman.\" A firm hand on my shoulder squeezed tight. \"We got these sickos.\" \n\n\"Fucking murderers.\" Sherman taunted, kicking the youngest in the chest. \n\n\"Delman, you'll get an achievement for sure.\" Ingham chuckled. \"You've got a hell of a career ahead of you. You choose your unlocks tonight at home base. Rest up. We've got three more rounds tonight.\" \n", "\"Game over.\"\n\nThat's what officer Cromwell said to me right before we busted open the door of the The Gamer that faithful night. Those words stuck to me like a stone sinking to the bottom of the ocean. \n\nI'd been on The Gamer's trail for months. Thousands of hours were spent reading his every message on the famous website reddot.com. Ever since video games were deemed illegal, its been the go to place for gaming related talk, and there was one person in particular who loved talking all about them. He would brag about his collection of retro consoles and games, and about how he just acquired a rare video game. His name was The Gamer and he just loved playing video games and telling everyone about it. Little did he know I was watching him the entire time. He's been in my sights and I've been waiting on something big before making the jump.\n\nMy patience paid off. He posted about a big order, about a hundred copies of the latest Souls game from a black market distributor in Japan. This was it, I knew I had to act. \n\nIt was 2 a.m. on a quiet family neighborhood. It was me, Cromwell and Logan with backup just a block down the road if anything got too serious. We slowly and silently walked up the stairs of The Gamer's house, got close to the door, and I kneeled down to put my ear against it. I could hear something like knives clambering against each other, soft screams and something like sound effects. I could tell he was playing a video game. I looked over at Cromwell and nodded, and that's when he said it.\n\n\"Game over.\"\n\nI stood up and kicked the door as hard as I could. It flew open and I aimed my gun straight ahead while yelling \"Freeze!\" I couldn't believe what I saw. In between stacks and stacks of video game boxes was what looked like a 9 year old kid sitting in front of a T.V. screen, staring blankly at me. I'd been reading The Gamer's messages for months and never suspected that he could be this young. \n\nAfter what seemed like an eternity of staring at me, he started to get up slowly. I yelled, \"Don't move!\" He was eyeballing something on the ground, I think it was a game controller of some sort. Just then, he darted towards it. \n\nI shot. \n\nI got him right in the chest. He flew back against a stack of game boxes and they scattered across the room. I was in shock. Did I just shoot a kid?\n\nThen I felt a hand grab my shoulder. It was Cromwell. I look at his face and he says, \"Why'd you shoot?!\" in a surprised and upset voice. I look back at the kid lying there. I walk towards him and look down. I can't help but read the game boxes he's lying on.\n\n\"Dark Souls.\" ", "Alright Ladies, listen up! The Boston Special Investigations Unit has fumbled the ball, again. And its up to the V.E.A. to dip our fingers into yet another fuckberry pie these assholes have cooked up.\n\nNow it's too early for your bedtime stories so I'm gonna make this brief! As you know, the russians have been running an underground MMORPG for almost 2 years now. Now we havn't had much chance catching these game bangers in the act, but intel has told us there is a meeting tonight between them and the Yakuza.\n\nThe russian leader is an Igor Glukhov, believed to be former EA. He was linked to a stolen shipment of Wii controllers that had been confiscated by the Washington division last year. We believe he's going to sell them back to the Yakuza in return for a truck load of consoles.\n\nNow I can see from your confused little faces your thinkin \"Gee whiz lieutenant, I spent most of this talk starring at your massive genitals so I might have miss heard you, but why would we give a shit if Igor fucking Vodka fuck gets his hands on some fucking consoles?\" Well allow me to enlighten you like the magestic fucking buddah I am!\n\nIgor Glukhov was one of the last known associates of the Big Cheese. That's right folks I shit you not! Public enemy number 1, Gaben fucking Newell. This lard ass fucker hasn't been seen in public in 5 fucking years. People don't even know if he's alive and with colesteral like that, I wouldn't be fucking surprised. But the Russian will have more info then all of your special units files put together and multiplied by ten!\n\nSo...we have our men on the inside record the deal and when time is right we bust in there and catch these playstation pushing fucks in the act. We do this by the book folks, and if any of you fuck this up and Igor gets off the hook, I will personally plant that gameboy in your desk drawer along with a copy of Kirby's fucking dreamland, and send you down in his place myself! \n\nRight, lets move the fuck out and pull the plug on these fucking nerds. ", "‘You ready, sir?’, the young officer asked.\n\nI nodded my head. Another day, another poor young man that we would put away. \n\nI remembered the days when we would put away real thugs. Drug dealers, mobsters, human traffickers. \n\nThe young officer was excited, psyching himself up. \n\n‘You know what Karl, you lead this bust’ I told him \n\nHe banged loudly on the apartment door. \n\n‘Phillip Fehr, open the door. This is the police. We know you’ve being developing games’\n\nWe heard scurrying inside.\n\nKarl ushered over three other officers. They stepped back a couple of lengths before busting down the door. \n\nThe young man inside was half way towards the window with his computer and keyboard in tow before we tackled him. \n\nI’d put away many like him, young men developing video games with an anti-government message. They were effective, too effective. \n\nWe read him his rights, if he was cooperative he wouldn’t be put away for too long, if he wasn’t, he’d be lobotomised like all the other great artists of our time.\n\nWhat a waste. ", "\"Move in, move in!\"\n\n\"Sniper on the roof!\" I flicked the joystick up and to the left, and slammed my finger on the trigger.\n\n\"Wow, nice headshot.\" Tommy gave me a quick slap on the thigh before jumping back into action. I couldn't help but smile. Having lived with the guy for 2 months now, nothing seemed to bring him out of his head more than Halo. \n\nWhen I had first moved in, the guy had could barely raise his chin to me without bursting into a slew of neurotic ticks and adjustments. I can't imagine how many people he must have scared off. My kid brother was autistic, so I was more used to these bizarre, asocial outburts.\n\n\"Aww man.\" Tommy slouched back into the couch, giving the rotating image a look of malice. \"Lag. I'm going to reset the modem.\"\n\n\"Don't worry, man, I got it.\" I told him, hopping up. \"You want some Coke?\"\n\n\"Mountain Dew, actually.\" He said, pushing his glasses back up his face. \"Please.\" He added, smiling proudly for remembering.\n\nI unplugged the router and began counting to twenty as I moved through the kitchen. My count was interrupted by a voice in my head.\n\n\"Agent Moreland, come in, Moreland.\"\n\nI shot my hand up to my ear, pressing on my cochlear receiver.\n\n\"What is it?\" I asked.\n\n\"Hey Moreland, it's time. Make a quick arrest, we have officers downstairs standing by to escort him to the station.\"\n\nMy stomach twisted. I waited to respond, dropping the ice into the fizzing cups of Mountain Dew. I stepped around the corner to avoid Tommy's earshot.\n\n\"Look,\" I hissed, \"I need more time. I am still trying to work who's supplying. Give me another week.\"\n\n\"No more extentions, Moreland. This is straight from Captain Phillip himself - he says we have all the evidence we need to put this fucker away for a long time. You have your orders.\"\n\nI had known this day was coming, but I had tried to put it out of my mind, figured I could work something out to help Tommy avoid the extended jail sentence. \n\n\"Hey, you plugged back in yet?\" He shouted from the front room.\n\n\"Nah, sorry, Tom, here we go.\" I swept around the corner, plugging the modem back in and placing the sodas on the coffee table.\n\n\"Tommy, not Tom, Tommy.\" He shook a little, correcting me.\n\n\"Right, sorry, I know that.\" I took a deep breath. \"Listen, Tommy.\" He looked up at me, watching my mouth. This was something I remember someone teaching my brother as well. I tried to reconcile how to do this as easily as possible. Tommy shook more violently, and his gaze darted away.\n\n\"Tommy, you know what happens if you get caught with these video games? You can get locked up for a long time.\"\n\n\"I know.\" He mumbled, \"Dad always used to play with me. He told mom I was fun and nice and calm when I played.\"\n\nMy stomach sank to my feet and I chewed the inside of my cheek. The department always pressed their anti-games agenda. These things trained serial killers and criminals. Terrorist simulators.\n\n\"You're taking too long, Moreland,\" came the voice in my ear again.\n\nThere was a heavy knocking at the door. \"Police, open up. We know you have visual/audio contraband in there.\"\n\nTommy yelled, and curled his knees to his chest. He rocked violently, mumbling to himself.\n\n\"No, no, no, no, no, no.\"\n\nI jumped up and began to destroy what evidence of Tommy's collection that I could. The door blew off its hinges and two officers rushed in and threw Tommy to the ground, throwing handcuffs on him as Tommy began to hyperventilate.\n\nAs they picked him up to sweep him out the door, the officer nearest me gave me a pat on the back.\n\n\"Nice work, Moreland, couldn't have bagged this one without you.\"\n\nTommy looked me right in the eyes as the pulled him out the door. Right before he disappeared from sight, one word escaped from his lips:\n\nBetrayal." ]	8
Preferably the events that happen after a few days. Try to imagine it really happening or go crazy.	[WP] Chaos in the world after an unknown phenomenon which gives every single human unique superpowers	[ "\"For fucks sake Jeff, I don't even know why I'm married to you anymore!\"\n\n\"Sarah, for Christs sake, put the pan down\" Jeff pleaded, moments before the pan whizzed past his face.\n\n\"Why don't you just run off with your whore if you hate it here so much? Huh? Why don't you go back to banging that secretary that is CLEARLY so much more important than your family?\" Sarah grabbed more cutlery and utensils from the kitchen side. They gleamed in her hand.\n\n\"Then why don't you fuck off back to Mars if you hate ME so much? And while you're out to make me into a demon, why don't you take Taren with you?\" Jeff shot a glance over towards his daughters bedroom. The door was ajar.\n\n\"Because I can breathe in space and she can't, you prick. God, it's like you don't even listen anymore. Oh wait, you don't. You just follow that slut Misty around like a lost puppy! What sort of name is Misty? Oh God, I'm being left for a woman named MISTY.\" The words stung and the memories stung more, and Jeff shot his glare to the floor.\n\n\"She goes by Mistress Murder now...\" his words trailed off, the guilt closing his throat involuntarily.\n\n\"Oh that's right! As soon as she got her power she went off with your boss and started killing people. You sure know how to pick them, Jeff.\" An explosion rattled the kitchen windows, and Sarah flinched. The explosions grew louder, and were followed by silence. The emptiness from outside was replaced by a man on a megaphone.\n\n\"DO NOT WORRY CITIZENS! LOST SPIRIT IS HERE TO STOP FUTURA. LOCK YOUR DOORS.\"\n\nJeff turned his attention from the floor to his wife.\n\n\"If you think you're so virtuous and special, why don't you join those assholes outside?\" A smug smile splashed across his face, and Sarah responded by lobbing a knife his way.\n\n\"Oh you'd LOVE that. For me to die out there so you finally have a reason to leave and forget about us!\" The voices outside continued.\n\n\"LOST SPIRIT, YOUR FEAR TACTICS WILL NOT WIN OVER THESE PEOPLE. YOU WILL BE STOPPED. I, CAPTAIN SHADE, WILL ENSURE IT.\"\n\n\"Honey, I love you and Taren more than anything in the world.\"\n\n\"Oh, is that why you've not spent any time with her since this all happened?\"\n\n\"SHE'S INVISIBLE, NEITHER OF US HAVE SEEN HER SINCE THIS ALL STARTED!\" The words brought about a shuffling in the farthest kitchen corner.\n\n\"It's... not my fault I can't control my powers... I want to, but I just can't be visible anymore... I'm sorry...\" Taren muttered, fighting back invisible tears as she did so. They splashed on the tiled floor, and dotted where she stood.\n\nSarah rushed over the corner where Taren stood, and reached out into the air to find her daughter. After a moment she seemed satisfied, and hugged an invisible form. The tears continued to drop.\n\n\"Oh honey I'm sorry, I didn't know you were there. Sshh, it's okay, it's not your fault.\"\n\n\"I don't want us to be torn apart. Everything is going to shit, and the last thing I need is to lose my two girls. I love you both. I fucking love you so much.\" Jeff tried to look his daughter in the eye, he wanted so desperately to. He wandered over to Sarah, putting his arm around her and Taren, holding them both. \"It's just so fucked. It's all so...\" Jeff began to cry. He held his girls close.\n\nThe explosions outside resumed. For what seemed a lifetime the sound of two people trading blows echoed through the kitchen, through all their minds. They held each other tightly, hoping the fight outside their walls wouldn't destroy their house like one had destroyed their neighbours days before.\n\nBut the fight eventually found its way to them. The sound of a skull-crunching punch rung out, and several seconds later a man in clock-patterned overalls smashed through Jeff's roof. His cape read FUTURA in bold letters. His entrance destroyed the second floor, and covered everything in plaster dust. Some of the dust landed on Taren, revealing the outline of her form. Sarah shrieked and spluttered, wrapping herself more tightly around her daughter. Jeff approached the crumpled form that had destroyed their house.\n\n\"Are... Are you okay?\" He gingerly stepped forward, extending one hand towards the costumed man.\n\n\"Jeff stop!\" Sarah pleaded, tears streaming down her face, leaving trails through the white plaster dust. But it was too late. Futura jumped up the moment Jeff prodded him. He stared down the family, and smirked.\n\n\"Fresh prey\" he remarked, \"there is no future for you.\" Futura drew the gun at his side, and fired at Jeff. 3 rounds aimed at his chest, but none hit their mark. Jeff's chest hardened and turned to marble upon impact, deflecting the shots. \n\nFutura's smirk dropped, and continued to drop as his face was smashed to pieces by marble fists. Jeff only stopped when there was nothing left of the smile.\n\n\"Oh God Jeff\" Sarah sobbed, staring directly into his steely eyes. In her arms was their daughter, visible once more and with a bullet hole in her chest. Not all the shots had missed. Jeff ran over.\n\n\"Oh baby no, God please why? Oh God. Oh no. Please, please no.\" Sarah cradled her daughters dying form. Her blood pooled around them, and soaked their trousers and shoes. Through the hole in the roof another costumed figure flew down.\n\n\"Do no worry citizens, Captain Shade is here to- oh fuck.\" He glanced down at the corpse of Futura, and the bloodied body of the 14 year old in the corner, surrounded by her parents. Taren opened her mouth for the last time.\n\n\"Mum... Dad... p-please stop... fighting... you're heroes... you're my heroes... heroes d-d-d-don't fight each other...\" \n\nShe went limp in her parents arms, and nothing was ever really the same after that day. ", "\"Jinx!\"\n\nThe young woman laughed after uttering the familiar word. She'd always been fascinated by the game as a kid. Say the same word at the same time, and the first person to call out \"jinx\" could silence the other person until someone said their name.\n\nAt first, she'd been bitter about the power. Why not immortality? Or super-healing like Wolverine, or Deadpool? But the power to make people mute until their name was uttered had proved to be more effective than she'd thought it would be.\n\nTake this fratbro, for instance. He'd been able to make people vomit by saying the word \"weaksauce\". It'd been a simple matter of following behind him, and muttering \"weaksauce\" under her breath, until she'd got the timing right.\n\nThis was just a small victory, though. Everything was quickly turning to shit.\n\nIt was exactly three days since whatever had happened, had happened. The first day and a half had wiped out a significant amount of people, as far as she could tell. She'd been unfortunate enough to be in the city where some asshole got the power to explode without being harmed. It had taken a team of someone being able to turn people blind while maintaining eye contact with them, someone able to create rope traps out of thin air, and someone with the guts to actually kill someone else to take that asshole down.\n\nUnfortunately for the would-be heroes, the exploding asshole had been standing next to someone whose power was to make other people's powers manifest themselves when they died. The whole thing had turned out to be more or less of a wash, but at least the exploding asshole was gone now.\n\nAs she surveyed the street in front of her, she noticed something odd in the display window of a computer store. A monitor had turned itself on, and the picture of a vaguely familiar girl appeared on it. Once the picture had solidifed, the monitor turned itself inside out, and suddenly the girl was standing inside the shop. Huh.\n\nThat was useful. Travelling over tv waves? Through wiring? Maybe over the internet?\n\nWhile she wouldn't have minded that kind of power, she'd still not gotten the shortest end of the stick. With billions of people suddenly getting unique powers, some had been hilarious. Some had been awful. She'd seen a man turn himself inside out...Unfortunately, his power had not covered being able to survive that. \n\nWhile pondering her next move, a blast of sound and fury caught her attention.\n\n\"Oh God..\"\n\nIn the distance, a mushroom cloud was forming.\n\nBefore she had time to react, the shockwave had thrown her body - along with whoever else was close by - like so many ragdolls." ]	2
	[WP] You're doing homework and your mum calls you to dinner, as you walk down, you hear a voice from the closet, 'Don't go downstairs, that's not your mum'	[ "\"Dinnertime! Come get it!\"\n\nThe call from my mom for dinner was welcome. I put down my pen and paper, marked my place in the book in front of me, and stood up.\n\nI pushed myself away from my desk, looking at the clutter in front of me. Something at the back of my mind was complaining. Had I forgotten to mark my place in the book? I double checked to find that I hadn't forgotten.\n\nBefore I'd made it to my door, mom had called for me again. She was sounding uncharacteristically impatient with me. She'd usually make fun of my tardiness if I was especially late for something, or especially slow. I shook my head, wondering what I could have done to annoy her into this impatient outburst.\n\nI was halfway down the stairs when the voice floated down from above, from what sounded like the vicinity of the hallway closet.\n\n\"Don't go downstairs, kid. That's not your mom.\"\n\nThe voice gave me pause. There was something odd about the impatience mom's voice had been filled with. While I stood there, mouth agape, in the middle of the staircase, my mom's voice boomed again. \n\n\"Dinner, you little shit! Am I going to have to tell you again?\n\n\"Better hurry back up here, kiddo. She's not allowed up here.\"\n\nThe voice from the closet didn't make sense. Not allowed? This was her house, after all. \n\nSuddenly, I noticed the lighting coming in from the kitchen to the downstairs hallway. Had it always had that orange shimmer to it? Had I ever seen the shadow of my mom looming from there?\n\n\"Hurry, kiddo. The staircase ain't safe.\"\n\nThe voice had gained quite a measure of urgency. Mixed with the odd, oppressive shadow and uncharacteristic anger coming from my mom, I was almost at the top again before I knew I had decided to run for it.\n\nThinking to myself that this had to be a dream of some sort, I tried to get my pulse under control. That strange voice made a mockery of my internal monologue, however.\n\n\"This ain't a dream, kiddo. Not exactly.\"\n\n\"What the hell is it, then?\"\n\nMy own feelings of confusion and fear were seeping into my voice. If I had thought more clearly at the time, I might have been amused by the fact that my voice sounded more angry than scared.\n\n\"I can't tell you. I can only say that you have to find your way out of here on your own.\"\n\n\"That is IT, young man...\"\n\nThe sound of what the voice had claimed wasn't my mom stomping down the hallway suddenly stopped. A whimper escaped my throat. \n\n\"Uhm, hello? Are you SURE you can't help me out here? You said the staircase ain't safe?\"\n\n------------------------\n\n\"Staircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafe\nStaircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafe\nStaircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafe\nStaircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafeStaircaseain'tsafe...\"\n\nThe woman was eyeing her husband nervously while the phone rang. Just as she was beginning to fear nobody would pick up the phone on the other end, someone picked up the phone.\n\n\"This is 911, what is your emergency?\"\n\nThe woman plugged the ear that wasn't covered by her phone to drown out the unsettling sounds coming from her otherwise catatonic-looking husband, and started talking.\n\n\"Uhm, hello, yes. I need some help. I think my husband has, uhm...Had some sort of mental break? So, uhm...Could you send, like, an ambulance or something?\"\n\n\"I'm afraid I can't do that, Miss.\"\n\nThe young woman perked up, and started to complain.\n\n\"Please. You have to get out of that room. That's not your husband.\"", "\"Coming!\" \n\nEdward was just getting up when he heard a thin, scared voice coming from his closet. \n\n\"Don't go, that's not your mom.\"\n\nHis first instincts were to run away, but something held him back. He knew that voice. \n\nEdward swallowed the painful lump that formed in his throat and slowly advanced towards his closet. He opened the door and was met with no resistance. And inside, half hidden in the shadows, a little boy about his age stared at him. It took Edward a long time to recognise himself under the boy's bruised and swollen face. \n\n\"Don't go,\" he said again. \"That's not your mom. It's mine.\"\n\n\n------\n\n-161\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] 2000 years in the future archaeologists uncover an everyday object from today and try to figure out what it was used for.	[ "Short and sweet with a drop off ending.\n\n~Dig Site 193~\n\n\"What is it?\" My subordinate asked, pulling a small plastic box from the ground. About the size of my palm, with several small markings along the back.\n\n\"I have no idea,\" I say, astonished, as I toss the object into a levi-trap to be hauled back to dating. I'd follow it, considering it appeared to be from the pre-sentience era. This find could make my career.\n\n~Dating~\n\n\"Well we know when it was from, but what did it do?\" The Dating specialist looked to me.\n\n\"You still didn't tell me when it's from, so I can't say,\" I glare at the man. I really hate newbies.\n\n\"Pre-sentient, like you said. Twenty ten give or take a few years,\" he looked expectantly at me, like that would tell all.\n\n\"And these markings? What was 'samsung'?\" I ask, running my hand over the back of what had pretty well been determined to be a device. The specialist typed the phrase into his system, then stared at the screen's command line, amazed with how the system learned. Newbie.\n\nI picked up the worn system and ran my fingers over the buttons. The front face, now the screen, started to emit light.", "Two men sit in a dim room, on opposite sides of a cheap platinum table. Atop the table is the object of their discussion, a small yellow plastic block.\n\n\"We've found thousands of these Sir, in multiple shapes and colours\", the younger man begins, \"No one in the group has any idea what they could be, but we've managed to date them to the late microprocessor age. The year 2000 approximately, give or take fifty years.\"\n\n\"Let me see that for a minute\", the older man replies, snatching the block without waiting for a reply. \"Hmm... Yes\" he continues feeling the circular protrusions on the top of the brick. \"I believe I know what this is.\"\n\n\"Well sir, what is it?\", the younger man asks after a few minutes\n\n\"As you should well know much of our pre-quantam era knowledge was lost in the thermonuclear dark ages of 2400-2700 AD, so we can never know for certain, but I believe this is what was once known as a Caltrop?\", the older man answers with a hint of smugness.\n\n\"A caltrop? I don't believe I've ever heard the word.\", the young man responds, sensing his teachers desire to explain.\n\n\"Well the microprocessor age was a violent time, mankind was divided into multiple countries or tribes which often fought with one another. A caltrop was a strategic military weapon, armies used to throw a couple hundred thousand behind them, it slowed down enemy units, and disabled calvary.\", the older man explains relaxedly, content at having solved the mystery, \"Your group was quite lucky, if any of you had accidently stepped on one you'd probably have sent for psychiatric reconditioning for the pain these things can cause.\"\n\n\"There's one other thing sir, if you'd look here at the bottom left corner of the block.\", the younger man continues turning on the table's holographic magnification process,\"we think there used to be some writing here, we can't be certain, but preliminary imaging software indicates it was this logo\". The younger man points out a slight yellow impression in the brick. \n\n\"Lego\"\n\n\"Do you have any idea what this could stand for?\"\n\n\"That was probably the tribe which made these particular Caltrops\", the older man responded, \"these primatives often liked to put an identifying mark on anything they made, common opinion says it was probably done for religous or superstitous reasons.\"" ]	2
Dragons and the wild west. Interested?	[WP] Damn dragons are attacking the cows again. git yer colt cowboy, we got work to do.	[ "It was in the air. As I drew a long, slow puff from my cigarette, I could sense the tension the night had brought with her. I was not the only one, of course. My dog was wimpering at my side, as he always does when he senses the beasts are near. He's a good dog though, he has never failed me. He has reasons to fear the beasts, too: half his body is scarred by fire, his pelt never to be whole again. Lucky for him, it was only the beast's offspring he had to fight off. Saved my life, too, and my horse's for good measure. A good dog is always afraid of the beast to come; never of the beast in from of him. Good dog.\n\nMy horse too showed signs of agitation, responding to my dog's. They haven't worked together yet, their working relationship not forged through fire, so to speak. My last horse got taken by a beast when my dog and I were cowering under the relative safety of a cave-like formation in the middle of one of the rare oasis in the desert. It's always a gamble, to stop in those places: dragons need to drink too, and they sleep in the rocks. Lucky for us this time, none was there. But one of them had flown over the oasis and grabbed my horse nonetheless. It had made a brief second passage to see if it could catch some other snacks, but we were well hidden, and their sense of smell is not the best. Thank God.\n\nI turned to my companion, James. A good lad, more experienced than I, yet he had seen less action. I attributed this to his goddamn luck, of which cow-boys seem to run out of pretty quickly these days. Not him. Also, it cannot hurt that James loads his dual Colts with homemade ammo, the kind that you don't use on a man unless you don't want to be able to identify him once you've hit your target. I saw James use it once on a man, when we got pinned by thieves in a deserted canyon. I'll never forget the resounding echo after his first and only shot, and how the man he had shot had his upper body turned into a very fine mist of blood. I had never seen thieves disappear so quickly either. But they know that even if dragons don't care for the smell of blood, firing a bullet in the desert usually means you're gonna have to fire more of them, soon, if you've been unlucky enough to be shooting your pistols in a beast's hunting domain.\n\nHe was checking his weapons, his movements calm but his look anxious. He knew this zone of the desert was part of several -several- hunting domains, which is both an advantage and a handicap. Dragons are pretty territorial beasts, and generally it means that when their domains overlap, they go at it between themselves to ascertain their dominion over this and that part of the desert. Thus they leave us humans to conduct our business, especially when they've been wounded or if they still fight. But it also means that the chances of meeting one or more dragons can increase dramatically if they're being quiet. You never know.\n\nI checked my weapons too. I preferred using regular anti-dragons ammo, the kind you can buy in the good stores though. It's less effective than James', but also less expensive, and I don't have to count my bullets. I am not as great a shot as he is, not that it would matter anyway. You can't take down a dragon with this kind of ammo, you can only wound them -if you're lucky, that is- and make them retreat to their lair. James could probably kill one, if he's small enough, but when I had asked if he ever had, he had stared at me and shaken his head. Goddamned beasts.\n\nJames was eyeing my rifle now; the only piece of equipment we had that could be really dangerous to a dragon. It was loaded with special bullets, carrying a mineral extracted from the eyes of dead dragons. Their huge eyes contain a sort of natural pocket that traps small pieces of an undefined mineral, I guess something their bodies produce. It's lethal to them when it's shot directly into their bloodstream, so the bullets have to be designed to pierce through their hide. You still have to aim carefully at specific zones of their body, documented to be thinner than the rest, but the odds are not in favour of the cow-boy on this. Still, I checked the rifle, checked the extra ammunition we had bought together: all was in order. Time to move.\n\nWe had been warned that dragons roamed over the area, several herds having been thinned down by the beasts a few days before we had entered the zone ourselves. The caravans had only lost the cow-boys foolish enough to chase the beasts for a couple heads of cattle: we knew better than this. Also it meant the dragons in the area had been fed not too long ago, it decreased our chance to get attacked too. But you can never really rely on those 'rules': dragons are wild animals, and whatever takes their fancy, they do. That's why we are always ready for whatever could happen.\n\nJames shot at the front of the herd, in order to launch forward what we call the 'baited vanguard'. Give a lick of whiskey to some of your less viable cattle heads, a kick in the ass with your spurrs, and you have a vanguard rushing forward, possibly warning you of the trouble ahead if they get attacked. Some cow-boys don't like to do it: James and I do, for the simple reason that we have cows for this very purpose. More agitated animals in a not yet panick-stricken herd can hinder your progress. We let those roam forward, the dogs sometimes following to make sure they don't deviate, and we're good to go. Plus it feeds the beasts, and when they're not hunting for sport, it usually calms them down.\n\nMy thoughts on the subject were suddenly interrumpted: James was coming back, but a lot quicker than he should have, both his colts drawn. Not a good sign.\n\n'Trouble ahead, boy. I just saw a big shadow leap from this rock formation, a couple miles ahead. We're in for a bit of action. You think you're up for it?'\n\n'Not really a choice, is there?'\n\nI drew one of my colt as well, checking the safety. Off. Good. Our dog was now growling and keeping close to the horse, as he was instructed to do. I shot forward, the colt in one hand, the reins in the other. I had to stop the herd from moving too fast, let the vanguard do its job, and hopefully the beast would go away. I could see it in the distance now, and that was not a good sign. It meant it was a big-ass dragon, and the shadow it projected on the sand was not proving me wrong. At all. Suddenly the winged shadow in the sky came out of the Sun in which direction it had flown so far, and I could see it was a real monster. Black scales, a three-horned head the size of a small cow, fangs like black daggers, red eyes, a long tail with black, sharpened bones protuding all along it, and feathered dark red wings almost fifty feet wide. It could probably grab a cow in each talon and fly back home. It would be the best case scenario for us. I put my colt back in its holster and grabbed my rifle. I heard James whistle three times, warning me not to take the shot. I knew it, I just wanted to be ready, because I would not be able to deter this fucker from coming closer with my two colts, even if I managed to shoot him in both its eyes. It was truly a monster. My ride was getting unsteady under my legs, so I whispered a few calming words, my dog yelping with empathy at the terrified horse. I could not avert my eyes from the dragon, who was almost on the herd now, and above the vanguard, its flight not in a straight line. It surely meant he was wounded. It suddenly shot downward to the terrified vanguard that had started to come back to the herd, but too late. A gust of wind blew away the sand and dust of the desert, and the dragon had laid its talons on a cow. But something was wrong. Maybe it was because it was wounded, but the dragon had secured the cow on the ground, and had not shot back up in the air to return to its lair. Instead, with a snap of its mouth, he tore apart the cow's head and ate it like you would down a shot of bourbon. He was now staring at the herd, the cow under its massive body emitting small patches of smoke from the contact with its hairs and the incredibly hot body of the dragon. I could see it had festering wounds on its head and stomach, the result of a fight with another beast. That was not good: he was going to need to eat to recuperate, and eat a lot. Suddenly, the dragon threw its head backwards, its massive chest getting even bigger. He was about to spit fire at the herd, something I could not allow.\n\nEdit: a word.\n\nEdit: another word.", "A heifer's front leg sat on the ground beside the torn fence. Blood pooled around it, but flies were just now starting to find it - it was fresh. Jose jabbed it with his boot heel,\n\n\"It's fresh,\" he said, nonchalantly. \n\n\"Yeeeep,\" Eli answered with a sigh. He slid two shotgun shells down his coach gun and flipped it up with a hard click. J.C. tried to appear at much as ease as he could. Sure, he had been a cowhand for a while, and he knew this would come up eventually, but out in Oklahoma the nearest one was at least a hundred miles in any direction. Now that he was down off the Caprock, and winter was finally over...well, it looks like they're finally out again.\n\nEli must have seen the worry on J.C.'s face. He chuckled gruffly as he shoved a coach gun into J.C.'s arms, \"Heh, you ain't got these out in Oklahoma, huh? Well, welcome to Pala Dura, kid.\"\n\nGuns and loaded and extra ammo in their saddle bags, the three road out past the mangled barbed wire fence to red face of the canyon. From somewhere behind one of the formations, there was a horrifying screech; a gargling noise; and then a clattering sound of sharp claws on red stone.\n\n\"Ha ha ha!\" Eli laughed triumphantly and raised his gun into the air, \"A CRAWLER!\" He turned a wicked smile to J.C., \"Ooh whoo, boy, y'er lucky! Somethin' with wings mighta been too tough for your first go.\"\n\nIn a second, Jose had his horse galloping to towards the sounds. His pistol was raised straight into the air. He fired off a shot and yelled something in Spanish. The sound must have caught the crawlers attention, because the noise of clattering claws was getting closer. Eli trotted up a bit farther and raised his coach. J.C. followed.\n\nAfter a couple more pistol shots and a few more seconds of yelling, a dusty red giant scuttled from around the canyon wall not 50 feet away from them. It was at least 30 feet long with its tail, which whipped across the ground, tossing large rocks. Its legs were short and bowed and five intimidating claws sat at the end of each one. Its head was wider than J.C. thought it would be - and spiked, like a horny toads. It shrieked and revealed four rows of black, jagged teeth.\n\n\"Alright,\" Eli spoke softly and slowly, \"Now, Jose's a shitty shot, but that horse of his is fast. He'll get the crawler to use up his fire before it can reach the grass.\" True to Eli's word, Jose began darting in front of the crawler. The thing seemed to go berserk. It stretched out its neck and fire streamed from its mouth in Jose's direction. J.C. felt the heat before the flame died against the rocks. Jose was way ahead of its flame, though. Nothing to worry about, it seemed.\n\n\"Now, we gotta go. You're not a shitty shot, are ya?\" Eli asked. J.C. shook his head. \"That's right,\" Eli said, \"You said you were always huntin'.\" Eli was suddenly galloping away. J.C. urged his horse to follow. They took a wide arc to come behind the crawler.\n\n\"AIM FER THE KNEES!!\" Eli yelled over his shoulder. J.C. pulled his horse into a smooth gallop and then pushed the coach gun against his shoulder. Just as he had lined up the barrel with one of the crawler's back knees, the thing moved with uncanny speed. Its long claws dug into the side of the canyon face and he began to crawl up the side. J.C. was dumbfounded.\n\nBeside him, Eli fired off a shot. A few bits tore into the crawler's right hind quarter. It cried out and lost a bit of its momentum. It slid down a few feet, tearing the canyon wall. \n\nIts small moment of falter gave J.C. a second to regain himself. He thundered forward and lined up with the right front knee as the beast resumed its chase with Jose. Unfortunately for J.C., the crawler noticed him coming up beside it. It slowed its pursuit and turned its head at J.C., mouth open. I weird whispering sound came from the back of it's throat. Jose had run it dry. Without much thinking, J.C. charged straight at the crawler's open maw. With fearsome jolt, he fired his coach gun into its mouth. \n\n***\n\nJ.C. and Eli sat by the fire eating the weird and tough meat. Jose worked behind them, salting and packing meat into canvas bags.\n\n\"Very, very well done, J.C.,\" Eli said, mouth full. \"Can you believe injuns didn't have any guns to kill these things? Heh, lot a good them arrows woulda done 'em.\"\n\n\"I heard they didn't try to kill 'em. They just let 'em fly around, or eat buffalo, or whatever,\" J.C. said, \"I heard the dragons didn't attack nobody 'til we got here.\"\n\nEli laughed. " ]	2
Physical pain is inflicted if you are separated from them. Is the recipient good or bad? What do you have to witness as you are silently and invisibly dragged through the world? Is the recipient also a donor? do you have a third lifetime to endure before you get to move on? (meh, had this weird thought and thought some of you guys might get a kick out of it, sorry in advance if not)	[WP] You died but can't leave this world because your heart was donated causing you to follow the recipient through their life.	[ "I live in a world of wretched agony.\n\nIf I believe the Tibetans, this is a world of my own creation. Thought-forms of sights and sounds cast in front of me like a fallen apple just out of reach of the penned animal, inaccessible no matter how it strains against the rough-hewn boards of the fence. No matter how bloody its neck becomes.\n\nI am incapable of dying. I am incapable of fleeing. I exist not even as a thing, but as a function; a rhythm that has become a drone in a head which does not exist.\n\nIf there is still such a thing as hope, then let me hope for darkness.\n\nIf there is still such a thing as hope, then let me hope for death. ", "I floated for a very long time in the white before waking up. Waking isn't really the right term, but its the closest I can think of. One moment I was floating away, no thoughts or emotions, just sensations of love. The next I was standing in what looked to be an operating room surrounded by doctors and nurses clad in scrubs, moving with deliberate intent around the patient prone on the table. Tubes of all kinds snaked from the patient's open chest cavity. I leaned in closer to take a better look, the busy surgeons not seeming to mind my intrusion. A pale pink heart was beating of its own accord in the open wound. Normally such sights would have turned my stomach, but at that point in time my mind really hadn't returned to something resembling before. I watched on for a time with child-like curiosity as the wound was closed up, tubes retracted, and the patient wheeled off to recovery. \n \nThis was a very strange time for me. I shambled about the hallways and corridors of the hospital, poking my head into rooms frequently. Nobody seemed to care so much or complain, and truthfully I wasn't meaning any harm. Natural curiosity lead me to explore, but I found that things would start to get fuzzy and tingly if I ventured too far from the room where I had seen that patient taken. Once I made it as far as the parking lot across the road from the hospital before an overwhelming panic forced me to run as fast as I could back to the patient's room. Several days of this wandering, exploring the boundaries, and returning to the room followed. Each day I felt more of myself again, memories slowly returning in a patchwork of incomplete puzzles. \n \nHer name was Samantha, the patient in the room I mean. The words on her chart slowly started to figure themselves out as I studied it, letters making sense after a time where I had seen only strange squiggles before. The chart read something about a heart transplant followed by a number of medical terms that did not become clear even after I stared at them all day. I could only surmise that I didn't know what they had meant before waking up. Samantha's parents came to visit her in the mornings, her mother bringing a new flower for a vase every day and her father dutifully fluffing her pillow. Today's flower was a sunflower. It was the first one for which a name had come unbidden to my mind. \n \nIn the evenings a young man Samantha's age would come to visit alone. He wore the same clothes frequently day after day and looked as if hygiene wasn't a top priority. Her parents would be gone by then and he would sit by her unconscious body, holding her hand in his nicotine stained fingers and calling her Sam as he whispered to her. I noticed he would glance nervously after a while at the hanging bags of liquid painkillers, licking chapped lips and grinding his teeth. Once he even reached out a shaky hand for a bag labeled 'morphine', but quickly snatched his hand back and held it close to his chest, perspiring and shaking bodily. The young man left quickly after that day and did not return. \n \nSam woke up after a time and began to receive regular visits between the nurses and her parents. She was up and walking, albeit slowly and balancing with a metal rolling tree holding her IV bags. Day after day she grew stronger, and day after day my mental faculties returned. I had figured out that I had passed away and Sam had somehow received my heart. This was alarming at first, with so many metaphysical questions about God and life filling my head that I almost yearned for the early simple minded days. More and more I probed the limits of how far I could go from Sam, but it was clear I could only make it so far even with determined grit before the panic would close in around me and I'd find myself sprinting back in her direction. It was bad luck that I had been on a walkabout to the hospital cafeteria when her parents had wheeled her down to their car for discharge, speeding away up the road for their home. Then the panic had caught me by surprise with none of the usual tingling and buzzing that slowly preceded it when I was exploring on my own. With supernatural speed I ran in blind fear towards her direction, passing cars on the highway in my sprint as if they were standing still. This terror only ended once I had returned to Sam's side as she sat on the couch in her parent's house. She was eating Cheetos. \n \nGradually Sam's life seemed to return to normal. For my part I spent the days exploring my new surroundings. I had tried watching TV with Sam, but her godawful taste in reality shows was more than I could bear. Her parents were somewhat better to haunt, and her father would read the newspaper in the mornings. I could read over his shoulder in the most rude manner, but he never seemed to mind. Once or twice he swatted at his ear as I hovered in close, lost in an article. I experimented with trying to control his hand to force him from turning the pages so quick, but all my efforts seemed futile. I almost thought I had done something when he stretched the fingers out on a hand I had spent an hour pressing on, complaining to his wife that he must have hit his funnybone as his nerves were tingly. \n \nOf course I had to go where Sam went, which became much more frequently as her health improved. Our days were filled with trips to the mall or to see movies. Sadly her taste in film wasn't much better than that in television, so I suffered through a string of romcom flicks while she and her friends ate popcorn and gossiped. It all seemed very normal and bland until one night she crept out the back door to the house well after her parents had turned in. The young man from the hospital was there to greet her a block away in his old Ford Fiero. I did not like the look of him at all. \n \nSam called him Johnnie as they smoked something green and nasty under a bridge several blocks from the house. She said she wasn't supposed to be doing this or seeing him, but he just rolled up another joint for her. Johnnie took out a little silver metal box with a syringe and some vials that I did not like at all. Sam was giggling and puffing away while her boy strapped a rubber thong to his arm and patted at his vein. I screamed and screamed, but neither of them heard. After shooting himself up, he offered Sam the needle. Thankfully she declined. \n \nThey went for a walk on the jetties under the bridge laughing and swaying woozily. I crept along behind them and glared at Johnnie. Both seemed oblivious to the danger of the drop and rocks below. Johnnie stopped to shoot himself up again while Sam tiptoed along the very edge of the drop off. Disgusted, I set about investigating the rocks and rushes to distract myself. \n \nI wasn't looking when it happened. Johnnie's head was laying limply against his chest and drool was coming out. Sam was screaming at him, trying to slap him back awake. He had overdosed clearly. Screaming some more, Sam started running back along the way to go find help. In the dark and without sobriety, she missed a step and went tumbling down into the rocks below. I peered over the edge and saw her chest thankfully still rising from her unconscious form, but her legs were bent in queer directions. Johnnie hadn't moved one bit. \n \nFrantically I scrambled around feeling powerless. Johnnie's cell phone poked out of his hip pocket, taunting my lack of interaction. I glared at the boy and kicked at him with all my might, pummeling his head with invisible hands. Raw emotion poured out of me, and I almost missed it when his head jerked slightly after one of my hits. I thought back to Sam's dad and the paper when I had tried to move his hand. Maybe... I grabbed the boy's arm and pulled with all my strength. Achingly slow, it moved to his hip where the phone was. Somehow I was able to close fingers around it and pull it out, each button push an agonizing feat like trying to move an old safe. Thankfully it was only three digits to call emergency services and I felt a sense of relief as the call rang through, but the feeling quickly vanished when the speaker on the other end of the line kept asking what the emergency was with no response. \n \nI grabbed the boy's neck and mouth, struggling with all my rage. Say something damn you, a word at least. Noises worked their way out incoherently, but it at least kept the operator on the line. Filling his mouth with my hands, I moved his larynx and put a knee to his chest to force air out. I hoped it sounded like the word \"bridge\", but by then I was exhausted and fell numbly to the ground. Things grew white again and fuzzy. \n \nI woke up again by Sam's side in the hospital again. The doctors were conferring around her in hushed voices. I found her parents in the waiting room, her mother was sobbing and her father signing what looked to be consent forms. After a time they moved her broken body into an operating room and began opening her chest along much the same lines before. I saw her pink beating heart, my pink beating heart, as they began to remove it." ]	2
	[WP] You find an envelope marked "Authorized Personnel Only." Inside is a USB stick that contains a single piece of mind-blowing, conspiracy-theory-level information. What is it, and what do you do with this knowledge?	[ "\nIt was an empty, hollow feeling. The company that I had worked so hard for, the company that i had devoted my entire life too decided that \"they wanted to go in another direction\" and let me go without even so much as a thank you. I'd never been really much of a drinker, but not knowing where else to turn, i walked into a local bar on my way home and drowned my sorrow in endless glasses of cheap scotch. \n\nAs I drunkendly stumbled into the bathroom stall I noticed a somewhat mysterious looking man washing his hands. This man looked totally normal, but as I was using the lavatory, I could not help but feel that something about him was a bit strange but I couldn't point my finger on what exactly it was.That was when I noticed the envelope. It had big, bold letters marked \"Authorized Personnel Only\" above the United States Government Seal of Approval. Being the good sumeritan that I am, I quickly grabbed the envelope and ran out the bathroom door, checked all over the bar, but to my dismay the man was no where to be found. I described this man to the bartender and asked if he had seen him, to which the bartender replied that he had seen no such man at the bar and that I should go home and get some rest. At this point I decided that I had no business carrying such a top secret document of information, so I set the envelope at the bar.\n\n\"Hey what the hell are ya doing you can't leave that thing here!\"yelled the bartender.\n\n\"But it's not mine I...I...\" I was in such disbelief at the bartender's response to the point where I was almost speechless.\n\n\"You what, you stole it!?\"\n\n\"No I...I\"\n\n\"I don't have time for this, you can either grab the envelope and get your ass out of here, or you can leave the envelope here and I can call the cops\"\n\nI realized that this bartender had panicked at the sight of a top secret piece of information that had no business being in his hole-in-the-wall of a bar, and that there was no way to properly talk to him and explain what happened in a calm and reasonable manner, so I left the bar, envelope in hand and all.\n\nI reached the front door of my house and as much as it shamed me, I still had the envelope in my hands. I tried so many times to get rid of it on my walk home, but just couldn't bring myself to. All I had to do was let if go, to just drop on the side of the road and let someone else worry about it, but something inside of me was dying to see what was inside.\n\nI didn't have to worry about my wife and kids seeing the envelope, as it was very late, and they were already fast asleep. As I sat on my kitchen table, i thought to myself \"it's probably just some papers, some unimportant buerecratic bullshit,\" but I knew deep down in my heart that this was not at all true. \n\nI opened the envelope and saw bubble wrap. Then paper. Then more bubble wrap. Then more paper. Finally a cardboard box emerged. I opened the box. Then a coat of styrofoam. I waded through the styrofoam and saw a USB charger. My palms began to sweat. I grabbed my computer and thought of my brother-in-law George. George was always sort of out there, he was always taking about some sort of government cover-up. One day, George would lecture me on the power of the Rothschild family, the next day he would rant and rave about how all the serial killers in America have been nothing more than government agents, and another day he would try to convince me that weather control is real. \"Well George, looks like I might have to eat crow,\" I said to myself out loud as I plugged the USB stick into my computer. \n\nThe information that I had picked up in the 10 minute video that had popped onto my computer screen had been more mind blowing than anything myself or George or almost anyone could have expected. It was a training video, narrated by President Barack Obama himself actually. What I had gathered from this video was that planet earth is nothing more than a computer program and that every physical being or object on it is therefore nothing more than a simulation. The various governments of the world are ran by reptilian shape shifters from the planet Kepler-35c, who act as more or less, administrators of this computer program. Essentially, what Obama had been explaining to his fellow cabinet members in this video was the plan on how to administer his government during his term as what he called \"Chief Director of the Planet Earth Program-American Sector.\"\n\nI was completely numb. My whole life was a lie. The couch I was sitting on, a lie. The house I had worked so hard for, a lie. My wife, a lie. My kids, a lie. Getting fired a few hours ago, a lie. It was all just a computer simulation going on on some planet some place in the galaxy that I had no way of even perceiving. What's the point of living, what's the point of going through with any of this, I thought. I saw an extension cord lying close to the TV. It was perfect. I tied it to the ceiling, opened a little hole for my neck, and got ready to end the lie that I had experienced. I put my neck through the extension cord, looked up, and saw my 7 year old daughter staring right into my eyes. \n\n\"Daddy, Daddy what are you doing?!!!\" she yelled\n\n\"She's not real\", I whispered to myself. \"Pull this extension cord, free yourself from the lie.\" \n \nBut I couldn't do it. I knew my daughter wasn't real, but I couldn't bring myself to leave her alone in the world, I couldn't bare to see her without her father. I pulled my head out of the hole, picked her up and gave her a hug as we both sobbed.\n\nEveryday I continue to be caged in this computer program called earth is another day in hell as far as I see it. Everyday I consider pulling the plug, somedays more seriously than others. In fact, just this past week I have put a gun on my temple at least 5 times, but I just can't pull the trigger. Everytime I try, I see my daughters face, giving me the same look as she had the night I found out that my existence was a lie, and I just can't bare the thought of abandoning her. \n", "\"Authorized Personnel Only\"\n\nThe letters were big, black, bold. Just as they should be. I briefly considered putting it back, but then the bus drove away and I was left with no choice. I really should have known better than to take a manila folder from a public bus. But I didnt.\n\nThe whole walk down my street and up my driveway was agonizing. The offending object sat in the crook of my arm, perfectly normal for all anyone else could tell, but it felt like it held the whole world inside. It had no reason to be so heavy and yet it was. I opened the door, tossed my jacket onto the floor, and rushed into my kitchen- it just felt like the place to do this -and sat down at the table. A quiet ripping noise that seemed to shake the walls came as I opened the top, and then there it was. A flash drive.\n\nFumbling slightly, I just barely managed to get it into my laptop on the third go. Had to flip the bastard twice, but I did it. hardware recognized, drivers downloaded, and files opened. There on the screen sat a single, solitary file, a text file, named hello world dot doc.docx. What an absurd name for a top secret file, it was supposed to have some cool codename, like the.operation.mongoose.project.txt. But no, dot doc dot docx. When I opened the file the strangest thing happened... it was blank.\n\nI blinked. Blank? What the hell? Just a blank... oh, there are more. More blank pages. I scrolled for a bit before just clicking the bar and dragging downwards through the fields of empty pages, when something caught my eye. A splash of black, only there for a split second, and I had almost missed it.\n\n\"They're everywhere, they know you found this, and they're outside right now.\"\n\nThey? What was this, some shifty short story about how the government's run by lizards? This was all just ab-\n\nMy thoughts were interrupted by the noise of a car door closing, then someone frantically knocking on my door. Peeking through the hole, I managed to catch a flash of a boot before the door came crashing down on me. And that's all that I remember before waking up here, in this dark corridor, with only a chunk of black rock and a rotten scrap of parchment to write on. If you're reading this, my message made it, and they know it. Run, right now. I don't know who they are but someone has to know, someone has to be able to stop them and get me out of here. Please, run, spread the message, and try to fight. If you don't make it... I'm sorry that I told you. I'm just so hungry and they won't feed me until I tell someone, bring someone new to them. I'm so sorry." ]	2

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