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
	[WP] After World War III, a college student studying abroad from his home country starts walking with one word in mind: home.	[ "After the New Great War ended, I was able to come back home. During it, I had fled, from the provinces of Europe to the cities of Asia, to the towns of Africa, and finally to the hidden colony of my people in that fragile body of ice few still consider a continent. My travel through these lands had me thinking of my family.\n\n\nMy thoughts didn't lie with my house, or the many fragile belongings I had in Britain that was to be lost, but rather with my family. I worried about their state. We had been separated by bombings, and the last word of them I had heard was a letter, telling me they had left for respite in a boat to North America. We wouldn't be able to meet until the war ended. My worries weren't on my house, that I would never see any pictures of myself as a child again, that I would never sleep in my childhood bed, that any remnants of my home would be rubble. Instead, I worried about my family. They were in a land that followed its own suits in the past World Wars, it wasn't in the war yet. Despite this, I found ways to think about them and hope they would be okay. I prayed and wished for their wellbeing, in spite of my beliefs. I cried in fear for them every time word of possible war to their state was uttered. \n\n\nNow, I walk home. My family is back home, waiting to meet me there. We stay in a pissy small house in the country, but I hear the surroundings are nice. It isn't the same house and land I grew up in, the letters tell me. I don't gravitate about the changes that have come to the land I lived in my whole life though. No. As I walk alone in my travel, I wonder what my beloved red haired brother is doing. Has he progressed in his study of chess? Would he beat me next time? I dream of the intellectual conversations I know I'll have with my father. Has he found a way to break through my defenses of my beliefs? I imagined my mother, and her loving embraces and talk of my love life that irritated me. Did she have a new woman that she was sure would be my future wife? \n\n\nAt first, I worried if there was an issue with me. Home, this virtue that is preached everywhere but among gypsies, wasn't in the forefront of my mind. I didn't wonder about the whole new landscape or the loss of my old large house with yards I played many games in. \n\n\n After days of walking, it dawned upon me. I had been thinking of home. Home isn't the place of your nativity, it isn't the language, the country, the rules, the beliefs, or the house you grew up in. It's the people that you grew up with. My family was my home, and I sure as hell had missed them. \n\n\nAnd so I kept walking, moving foot after foot, dreaming of my home. Of my family.\n\nIts 2:14 AM now, so I think I'll go to bed instead of proofreading. Please, forgive me. My name should've given you the hint anyway.\n\n", "The day after. The stone is warm against my back. My feet lay limply out in front of me, dirtied (though intact) sneakers gleaming in the warm light of the rising sun. I scoot forward a matter of feet, allowing my legs to dangle off the edge. The blast had cleaved a large section of the skyscraper away. No doubt the street below is littered with concrete. I sigh plaintively. The Germans had a word. Blitzkrieg; lightning war. Strictly speaking, the definition did not apply to what had happened, but the words themselves did. It had happened and been over quickly. I had spent the night hiding in the very office I had been hoping to achieve an internship in.\n\nOh, well.\n\n–––\n\nFour days after. My legs ache. I had found a bicycle, but the chain had solidified ever so slightly from the heat of the detonations. It didn't last long, but it gave me a mile I wouldn't have had otherwise. Where am I going? Let's see. Highway 290. Strewn with cars as I was exiting the city, and now sparse and with the occasional wreck caused by the blinding lights that had torn our world asunder.\n\nI pass a military convoy. It had been heading for the city. They hadn't had time. The electromagnetic pulse of the explosion had disabled them completely. There was no use looking through them. There were no bodies. The military had survived, and taken their equipment with them. Perhaps they were going back to the army base.\n\nOh, right. Where am I going? Let's see. Home. Home sounds good.\n\nSix hundred miles by my count.\n\n–––\n\nNine days after. I'm thirsty. I had passed a man on the road. We said nothing to one another. He carried a revolver in his hand. His feet dragged. I don't think he noticed me. Perhaps shock. The cylinder had been empty and open – a wanderer, as aimless as I, though with one intact consciousness less. Six miles after, a minivan, and three corpses; two children and a woman.\n\nI reassure myself that they're dead. My associate's degree in Classical Archeology wouldn't help them. Neither would the bachelor's that I would have gotten three months from now.\n\n–––\n\nEighteen days after. I've been shot. A graze, really, and a misunderstanding at that. The man had patched it up, but it still aches, and I can't help but walk with a limp. He accompanied me for a time, but a road sign lured him away in search of distant relatives that lived in some town off the beaten path. I have a pistol of my own now. So far, I've used it on rabbits. I hope to continue doing so.\n\n–––\n\nNineteen days. I fired the pistol today. It wasn't a rabbit.\n\n–––\n\nTwenty three days. I'm halfway there, by my count. I'm also half of my weight – well, what I'm familiar with. The allure of home is great, but the allure of scavenging is greater. Beef jerky and stale peanuts looted from gloveboxes can only sustain me for so long. There is no shortage of water, though you have to be careful; occasionally, you'll find a bottle that contains stale tea or more commonly soda. Warm, flat, sickly. I'll drink it if I must, but there is no shortage of water yet.\n\nI would love some company.\n\n–––\n\nTwenty four days. The hunger got the better of me. Most of what I found was spoiled, but three cans of beans, some rice and a pan – I'll eat well for several days to come. I didn't walk as I should today. I'll get back on track tomorrow.\n\n–––\n\nI saw a convoy. Distant. Okay, I saw the dust of a convoy – long, arching swirls of sand and dust kicking up. I heard the engines. Perhaps it's military, perhaps it isn't. I think I'm in Oklahoma. Oh – thirty days. A month.\n\nI met a woman. She was... disagreeable. Unfortunately.\n\n–––\n\nThirty five days. I saw a road sign. One hundred fifteen miles until I'm home. I'm hungry. The cars here have been looted. I'm thankful that I had the sense to store water for the journey. It won't be enough.\n\n–––\n\nForty days. I recognize this territory now. Some of the suburbs. I lived near here for elementary school. Some of the trees here have leaves.\n\nI feel sick.\n\n–––\n\nForty three days. I met the military today. What's left of them. Big men with big toys, loyal to no cause. These men seemed kind. They only took my water. They left me my gun and what little meat I have. I can get more water. I'm within a day or two of home.\n\nI feel weak now. I have no appetite. I've vomited once or twice, and that spells bad news. Perhaps it's a flu?\n\n–––\n\nI'm home. I'm going to lay down now. I'm shaking. My head hurts. I've been walking for so long. My head hurts. I don't know where my parents are. I'm home, though. I'll wake up tomorrow and think of what to do. The lethargy will dissipate if I rest.", "The world was in shambles, the air was thick with smoke and the smell of razed land. I stumbled, almost dreamlike, across the barren landscape in a single direction. The goal was not in sight, but I had it firmly in mind. Home.\n\nIt was two years before the war started, when my dad convinced me to move across the country and to a city where I would spend the rest of my life studying and getting my degree. I said goodbye to my friends, my crush, my teachers, and my mother and sister who I left behind. I miss them all so terribly. I was only in my first year when the tensions between the nations finally broke, and the bombs started dropping. Like other students, it was all I could do to find shelter. We had feared that war would break out for some time, but after a while the fear became intangible, almost surreal. If they hadn't fought then, why fight now? We were horribly wrong. Many died, some shot in the street, other vaporized by tanks, some suffocated or crushed in the tombs of collapsed buildings. I survived. For two years, me and a group of students scavenged and lived however we could. It was a base life, but I was quite willing to live with it. I needed to, if I ever wanted to make it home again. I said goodbye to my comrades, who didn't come with me. It was still too dangerous. Even after two years, we have no idea who won or lost because all communications were fried. I only had one word in my head- home. So I set out.\n\nIt felt like hours, days, or even years, and I'm still walking. I hoped I was getting closer. I passed by patches of unbombed land, but even the plant-life there was withering under the harsh conditions man had set for them. Home. I ignored all of it, and kept on walking. Home. I needed to see my mother and sister. Home. It would be a long walk, but this was something that I need. Home.\n\n\"Jesus. How old do you think this kid is?\" asked a soldier, his uniform in tatters. His unit paused, craning their heads to observe what their squadmate was looking at. \n\n\"God. Can't be any older than 22. Poor guy.\" One replied. All of them continued to stare at the malnourished, glassy-eyed man flailing weakly against the ground. His mouth opened and closed, but only wheezed breaths came out.\n\n\"Wh-what should we do, commander?\" One soldier asked. The clear leader stared hard at the pathetic thing for a while.\n\n\"There's nothing we can do to help him, I think. Not with what we have. Let's set up camp here- suns about to go out. Let's keep the poor fuck company until he finds home.\" He said gruffly." ]	3
	[WP] The characters of 'Game of Thrones' are hillbilly clans set in Kentucky in 1897. They are in the middle of a family feud.	[ "(Partly NSFW)\n\nAs the sun slowly rose, the sound of a rooster sqwaking in the distance signaled the start of a new day in the small Kentucky town of Westeroos.\n\n\"Somebody kill that fuckin' rooster. I want its fuckin' head!\" exclaimed the agitated Farmer Jeff Barathy.\n\nFarmer Jeff was the leader and most profitable of the men in the town. His plantation was bigger than everyone else's, and the money he reaped off his crops was greater than all of Westeroos combined.\n\n\"Honey, it just the rooster, come back to bed,\" called his mother, Lisa Lanny.\n\n\"Naw, I reckon I have to git on wit watchin' over the plantation today.\" Jeff explained.\n\n\"Don't forgit later on you have to get to meetin' with Mary Gerry Tylor and plan out yer weddin',\" said Lisa Lanny.\n\nJeff walked out of the room, nearly bumping into his Uncle Jame. Jame was in charge of the field hands.\n\n\"Well, howdy nephew, I was just comin' to get ya up. Lots of work to be done today.\"\n\n\"Shut up I know what need to be done 'round here.\" Jeff spit back.\n\nThe two walked out of the farm house and over to the giant red barn. A man was standing there with a piece of paper, examining all the activity.\n\n\"Howdy, Jeff,\" greeted the man.\n\n\"Yes, Eddy, and how are we doin' so far this month?\" asked Jeff.\n\n\"Welp, the crops er growin' nicely, but you know, winter is coming,\" Eddy said.\n\n\"I know it is, now how 'bout 'cross the town. Any news?\"\n\nEddy stopped for a minute, and flipped through his pieces of paper, trying to collect what he is going to say.\n\n\"That Tennessee girl out across the Narrow Creek. She's not really doing much out there 'cept freein' all the badly treated farm hands. And she got three big horses. The biggest anyone's ever saw!\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah we will get to that eventually.\" said Jeff.\n\nEddy continued.\n\n\"I've also heard Stanley Barthy is building up an army of drunks and they are coming this way soon to take over the farm and make it into some brewin' land! He calls himself the One Brew King!\"\n\n\"Gods almighty!\" exclaimed Jeff. \"What are we to do?\"\n\n\"I'll gath'r up the field hands and head over to git all the guns. We'll take 'em out.\" said Jame.\n\n\"No, no. I can't have my good Uncle in danger of bein' killed, besides, mama wouldn't have anyone to fuck after the sun goes down.\" said Jeff.\n\nJame's face went beat red and Eddy grimaced. Jeff was deep in thought, but soon his face lit up.\n\n\"I'll have Uncle Ty fight them drunks. Doesn't matter if he gets killed. That midget hick.\"\n\n\"What about a midget hick?\" Ty was standing right behind Jeff. Jeff couldn't see him though, as Ty was half his size, but this didn't stop Ty from reaching up and slapping Jeff across the face.\n\n\"Gods damn you, Uncle Ty! I'll have put your nuts on the end of a stick and roast 'em like marshmallows!\" Jeff said angrily, clutching his cheek.\n\n\"Well that would be a problem for y'all then because my nuts are down in town in a back room at the bar deep in some ho's twat. You can go searchin' 'round those parts, boy, but y'all better bring a fly swatter.\"\n\nTy laughed and scampered off, leaving Jeff speechless.\n\n\"I'll make him fight. Hell, I'll kill him myself!\" Don't anyone know where I can git some cold beer round here? It's muggy as a swamp out yonder!\"\n\nAn old woman quickly scurried up and handed a cup to Jeff, but carefully hid her face under her straw hat. Jeff snatched the cup without a word of thanks and downed the drink. He noticed Jame and Eddy staring at him.\n\n\"Quit lookin' 'n' get back to workin'!\"\n\nJeff began to cough.\n\n\"This beer kinda tastes funny...\"", "Ok, you said you can set it anywhere, and anytime so I'm going to set this in the 1920's around New York City.\n\n_____________________________________________________________\n\nPROLOGUE\n\nIt's a time of extraordinary prosperity. New York City, the pinnacle of wealth and opportunity. The skyline is a marvel of the time, gleaming buildings seen from miles away. The wealthy flock to the city like birds returning home after winter. Of these wealthy, a few elite and prestigious families hold immense wealth and power. Numerous feuds have developed within these families. \n\nThe Lancasters, known for their vast fortune acquired through the Lancaster Gold Company which holds more than half of the market share in the industry, are the wealthiest and one of the most powerful of these families. The eldest in the family, Tyler Lancaster, heads the family company. He is a ruthless person, very calculating and politically astute. Tyler has three children, Theodore, Jaime, and Celia Lancaster. Theodore, the youngest, was born a midget, he is exceptionally educated and shrewd. The oldest, Celia, is an ambitious and willful individual. Jaime, the middle child, is a born fighter, and has a very kinglike look. Joanna Lancaster, wife of Tyler, died during Theodore's birth, which is something that Tyler and Celia wrongly hold against Theodore.\n\nThe Barathesons are a strong and powerful family. The eldest of the family is Robert Baratheson, he holds the position of Mayor or New York City, and is married to Celia Lancaster. He has three children, Jeffrey, Marcella, and Thomas Baratheson. Although, these children aren't actually Roberts, they were the product of incest between Celia and Jaime Lancaster. Steven Baratheson is the younger brother of Robert, he is very serious, and also stubborn. Reynold Baratheson, the youngest brother, he is a charismatic and sometimes frivolous person.\n\nThe Starks are a extremely wealthy family. They gained their massive fortune through bootlegging in the early 1920's after the 18th Amendment was passed. The eldest, Ned Stark, runs the family business. He is a very honorable man who does what is needed. Ned helped Robert Baratheson get the position of mayor, in return Robert guaranteed that Ned's business could continue undisturbed. Ned Stark is husband to Catherine Stark, who is the daughter of Harry Tully. She is a stunning woman with long auburn hair. They have five children, Robb, Sarah, Ariana, Brandon, and Ricky. \n\nNOTE: I'm not very good at writing the story or dialogue and I'm also tired so I'm just going to leave it there. Please feel free to continue off of this.", "ARLENE\n\nThe smell of bread through the street was sweeter than any feast Arlene's had before. \"Here's the best place to catch a chicken, they come for the crumbs,\" she told a passing colored boy and his owner. She crept up behind the smallest, most agile chicken she could find. Slowly inching behind it, the chicken bocked and flapped its wings, but Arlene grabbed its legs before it could get away. She snapped its neck, and offered it to the baker through the window.\n\n\"Hey mister, trade you a chicken for some bread?\" She held up the carcass to be seen through the window. \n\nThe baker looked up from his kitchen, and his face contorted in anger. \"You little nigger, that was my chicken!\" He picked up a rolling pin, but before Arlene could see him take a step through the door, she bolted through the muddy street, and was gone before the baker was out the door. \n\nArlene has always had darker skin than her family, and on more than one occasion she's been mistaken for a mixed child, which in West Kentucky, might as well be a nigger. In Hillsland, it is no different. \n\nArlene has tried to avoid the Bartholemew's house since she, her father Edd, and her sister Sarah had come from their home, Winfell. Sarah would wed Jeffrey Bartholemew soon so the Stark family could have a stake in the the majority of the land from Hillsland to Winfell. She never liked that family, and the whispers Arlene has heard in the outskirts of Hillsland have made her even more uncomfortable.\n\nEven the slave boys are saying Edd slit the throat of Rob Bartholemew while out boar hunting, but Arlene refuses to believe it. Others say Rob died from eating the entire boar himself that they killed on the hunting trip. Others say his brother, Ren killed him out of jealousy for not getting his own land when their father died. Arlene doesn't know what happened for sure, probably no one does. She knows her father would never kill Rob, but she hasn't seen him in days. Her stomach aches from thinking about that possibility.\n\nIn the distance, pots and pans are ringing out in the direction of the Bartholemew's house. People begin to mutter, and among these mutters she hears the voices of two Bartholemew cousins she remembered meeting. They begin walking toward the racket with the rest of the townsfolk, and Arlene follows suit. \n\n\"I heard Jeffrey's taking Edd on his porch and loppin' his head off,\" one of the Bartholemew chuckles.\n\n\"He deserves it fer cuttin' Uncle Rob open like that,\" the other cousin replies.\n\nArlene is stunned. Her fear is true. She fights we way through the crowd as they finally reach the plot of land in front of the Bartholemew's. Hundreds of people are around, slaves and owners, hill people and townsfolk. The crowd is too dense to see, so Arlene steps up on a pig trough nearby for a better view of the porch. Sarah, Jeffrey, and Jeffrey's mother, Sarah Lee are standing off to one side, while Edd and a man with a decorated sword stands by. \n\nEdd opens his mouth, and Arlene is glad I hear his voice for the first time in days. \"I am Edward Stark, land owner of Winfell. I betrayed Rob Bartholemew, and I betrayed his family. I killed Rob while huntin' and I planned on killin' the rest of his kin for his land.\" \n\n\"No...\" Arlene is in disbelief. She almost faints into the trough, but the increasing bustle of the crowd shakes her awake. Arms raise as does the yelling. Mud flies through the air and cakes on Edd's face. \n\nThrough the mud, Edd raises his voice over the crowds, \"Jeffrey Bartholemew is the rightful recipient of this land by law, and by blood.\" \n\nAs the crowd grows more furious, Jeffrey makes another racket with the pots and pans, and says \"My mama tells me that I should best let him work out his debt as my slave, and that would be best for family concerns.\" Arlene's heart doesn't know whether to drop or lift. \"But those are just a woman's word, and he killed my paw! Take his head off!\" \n\nThe crowd erupts in hoots and hollars. Arlene watches as Edd's face falls sullen and defeated. He kneels his head over the wooden railing of the porch and rests his neck on it. \n\n\"No, no, please heavens no...\" Arlene is near in tears. She can't take her eyes off of her father. She hears nothing, not the cheering of the crowd, jut her own pleads and prayers. \n\nShe feels arms wrap around her waist and pull her to the ground. \"Don't look up there, nigger, look at me. Yes, nigger, look at me.\" Arlene's eyes are welling up and overflowing with tears. \"Don't look there, nigger look here, that's a good nigger.\" \n\nArlene hears a small whoosh through the air, as if the crowd exhaled all at once. \n\n\"It's done,\" the man said. \"You'll be comin'\n with me.\" She looks at his face long enough to recognize him. Oren, that's his name. He peddles slaves from the south up to the north, I've heard it from slave kids. He hands hands her a small knife and says \"I hope you can use it, nigger.\"\n\n\"I ain't a -\" she started.\n\n\"You ain't a smart nigger, is that what ya meant? Come yonder.\" He grabs Arlene by her hair and drags her into the woods. She walks with him, but struggles to be let go. More tears stream down her cheeks.\n\n\n\n", "This post is NSFW\n\nBilly sat 20 feet in the air, back rested against the shaded side of a towering Oak tree. He bit into an apple and let the juice dribble down his chin. Of all his brothers and sisters, Billy had always been the best climber and it was a fact he relished in. \n\nHe had only been caught on one occassion. His mother Crissy had watched his shadowy figure go racing by and had screamed at him to get down. \nWhen she had told his Father Nate, he had only pulled him aside and said, \"Don't you do that no more ya idgit!\" But after looking at his son's sad eyes he chuckled and tilted his head back for a guffaw, \"Aw shoot, I can't stay mad at ya for nothing. Gist don't let your ma catch ya. \"\n\nA whine from below brought Billy to his sense. His hound dog Scooter was whining at him, afraid that the young boy might fall. Instead of climbing down, Billy tossed him an apple and then darted off through the branches. He used his toes as anchors, curling them around the branches for balance. He jumped down from branch to branch getting lower and closer to the ground. Scooter followed him below, clutching the newly fallen apple in his mouth and still whining. \n\nThe tree was unfortunately placed on Latfield property, but it was the best tree within a hundred miles of the Stacoy farmyard. But getting back to his own property would mean sprinting past the Latfield shack. He ran as fast as he could carry himself until he reached the corner of the shack, where he slowed to a snail's pace. Scooter the coon dog slinked lightly behind him. He ducked beneath the ledge of a window when he heard a woman crying inside. \n\nHe stood up slowly and peeked his head inside the open window. He tried his best to stifle his surprise when he saw Cindy Latfield on her knees with her brother Joe behind her, also on his knees. They were both naked as the day they were born and doing what the cows do in the field every day. It wasn't the first time he had seen it happen, but the first time he had seen it happen between two humans. \n\nSuddenly, Cindy stopped shrieking long enough to look toward the window. When she spotted Billy, she pushed Joe off of her and bellowed, \"Stoppit you idjit! Iss one o' them damn Stacoy boys.\"\n\nBilly's eyes widened as Joe staggered toward the window, breeches around his knees. He made to get away, but a hairy arm shot out the window and grabbed him by his collar and hauled him back toward the window. Scooter the coon dog barked helplessly from the ground. \n\nJoe hauled the small boy up to the window and perched him on the ledge, 3 feet from the ground. \n\"Lissen here, ya idjit. You aint gon' tell anyone whatchu saw here today, I reckon?\"\n\n\"No sir,\" Billy stammered. \"Ya'll got mah word.\" He looked down, suddenly very pensive. \"Although, mah momma always says that Words is wind.\"\n\nJoe sneered, \"I should push you out this here winda.\"\n\nBilly shrugged, \"It won't matter if I tells anyone. Yous just matin with your sister. Everyone does that.\"\n\nJoe's eyebrows got wider, realizing the boy was right. \"Oh yea...\" His eyes narrowed suddenly, \"Well I is gonna push ya'll out this winda anyway, just for being a Stacoy boy.\"\n\nAnd before Cindy could protest, Joe extended his arm and Billy fell. He fell 3 feet to the ground below, where he promptly stood up and dusted himself off, counting only a few minor bruises. \n\nHe began to run away with Scooter as he heard Cindy hollerin behind him, \"You moron! That winda's only three feet off the ground!\"\n\n\"I heard ya woman! I'm gonna git mah shotgun and nail the sonbitch!\"\n\nIt wasn't too long before Billy was out of range, sprinting away happily in the dust of the cornfield, pellets peppering the ground behind his feet. ", "BRIAN\n\nThe summer sun was high and hot. His father had often told him of the storms and snows of a true winter, but Brian had never had the misfortune to have to endure one of those. So far in his short life, he had only ever seen a few lazy snow drifts, and a couple of chilly months. But as old Papa Edd would have it, during a real winter, the ranch was ransacked by monstrous snowstorms called blizzards, entire ponds froze over completely, and old men died of frostbite while making their ways out to the outhouse. \n\nPapa Edd’s warnings came often - after all, those were the family words. Winter is comin’. And this year, all the city men and science folk from down south in the capital in Jacksonville were preaching and heralding an impending ‘record’ winter, as they’d have it. But up in Lexington, the age-old abode of the Stark family, the weather was still as stifling as ever.\n\nBrian Stark was sprawled out on his back, spread-eagle, on the top of the old Red Barn, the tallest building on the entire ranch. He had taken to climbing and exploring the ranch ever since he was old enough to stand on his own two legs, and as his Ma would have it, it’d soon be the end of him.\n\nBut today was different, important in a way. The President of all the seven Confederate States, Rob Burthorpe, his wife Carrie Lann, and all his host of friends and family had been marching on up Route 75 for the past week, and they’d be arriving today. \n\nBrian shot up onto his rear as soon as he heard them approaching. And boy, were they ever loud. It was the largest gathering of folks Brian had ever laid his eyes upon - at least three hundred strong - complete with army men and national guards and even what looked like some local, small town police. This was, of course, expected - any time the President of all the Confederate States passed through your town, you couldn’t just let him go by, it’d be taken as a grievous slight. \n\n“Pa! Pa! Ma! Johnny! Robbie! They’re here! They’re here!”\n\nBrian slid down the roof of the Red Barn, lept off the edge, and did a neat little tumble-roll onto a bale of hay and onto the old, worn dirt. \n\n“Brian! Now what have I done told you up a thousand times about your darned climbin?!”\n\nKate Stark stood tall over her second-youngest son and looked down on him with a face as cross as a Christian. \n\n“Uh...er...sorry, Ma, but they’re here! They’re here! They’re really here!”\n\nAt the sound of her boy’s wild excitement, the anger quickly faded away. “Alright, boy, I know. Go run and tell your Pa.”\n\nBran sprinted through the barnyard and up on over to the big white ranch house as fast as his little legs would take him. His father was already there, sitting on an old rickety rocking chair, a calm, cool expression on his face. \n\n“Pa,” gasped Brian, “They- They’re- They’re here!”\n\nEdd Stark didn’t meet his son’s gaze, but instead kept blankly staring off into the distance, rocking back and forth, back and forth. Brian stared at him, the wide grin he had just been wearing a second ago beginning to slide right off his peachy face. His father remained quiet, looking to be lost in a deep thought. \n\nFinally, he came out of the trance. \n\n“It’s true then, boy? Well, alright. Guess we’d best go and greet ‘em proper. Gather you’re siblin’s, boy. And remember - Winter is comin’.”" ]	5
	[WP] A man bought a jacket from the thrift store. Upon wearing it, he is thrown back decades into the life of its previous owner - an American pilot of WWII. Write about his experience until his jacket is removed.	[ "This prompt is fucking awesome \n\n\"Damn this jacket looks so badass,\" Joe thought as he drove home with it on his lap. He had bought it for merely $10 just moments ago from the local thrift shop. He had a lot of trust in that thrift shop, he bought his GameCube a year ago from there for only $20. \"They basically give stuff away!\" he would tell his friends. He parked his car in the garage and walked upstairs to his room, but not before pouring some hot sauce into his sleeping friend's coca cola like he always does. He walked in front of his mirror and slowly put the brown leather jacket on. \"Damn, I look so awesome,\" he said to himself. Then the feeling kicked in. A sick, nauseous feeling, that made Joe feel as though he was about to vomit. He slammed a fist onto the counter and clutched his stomach.\n\nThe walls began to move. Up and down, left and right, in all directions, his surroundings moved. \"What... The fuck... Is happening,\" Joe said right before he projectile vomited onto the mirror in front of him. The mirror and counter remained unmoved, as if they were a part of Joe. After a few minutes that felt like hours, the moving stopped. Joe slowly opened his eyes to the sight of his vomit dripping from the mirror in front of him. \"Oh god... What the hell?\" \n\nJoe looked around. He wasn't in his bathroom, which was quite shocking to Joe. If appeared to be a public restroom, with the toilet stalls behind him. It smelled horrible, like dirty wet socks filled with cow shit. \"Ugh, fuck,\" Joe said. He looked into the mirror after the vomit dropped to the counter. Joe had a different appearance than before. His skin was more tanned and he had a beard. Joe hated beards. After spending five minutes regaining his balance, he walked out into the bright day. \n\nHe was right about before, it was a public restroom. Joe was not familiar with his surroundings. \"Wha.... Where am I?\" \n\n\"You're in Pearl Harbor,\" a voice said from behind him. \n\nEh, I don't know if I should finish it! So tell me if I should. ", " \"There's just something... personal.. about it,\" he remarked, reverently handing the dusty leather jacket to me. An older gentleman, no younger than sixty-five, but nonetheless quite handsome in his own way. The furrows in his face ran deep across his forehead, below the eyes, and perpendicularly to his gentle smile, which revealed a set of well-groomed teeth. His hair, neatly combed, rested level atop his head, awash with streaks of grey intermingled with brilliant white. As if his looks weren't enough, he smelled strongly - but not unpleasantly - of Aqua Velva. To complete this already dashing portrait, the gentleman displayed a battered pair of antique aviators, folded neatly into the collar of a well worn flannel shirt. \n\n By now, I had been shopping in his thrift store for nearly three years, purchasing faded jeans and ratty t-shirts brazenly displaying veritable insignia of rock and blues musicians. I had some time to kill before work, so I decided to see if the gentleman had found anything new. The store itself was quite sparsely decorated: the gentleman who owned it wished to stand in obvious contrast to his quiet corner of the world, walled in by soft pastels and racks of old clothing. To further strengthen the motif, the floor was left unswept, and dust silently collected on any available surface. \n\n The ambience, however, was not why I chose to shop here so often. Rather, it was the gentleman's impeccable taste for clothing, both old and new.\n\n And it was here that I first discovered this airman's jacket, silently fading away amidst a wardrobe stuffed full of winter coats. It was this juxtaposition of leather amongst the wool and poly-cotton that caught my eye. I immediately plucked my newfound treasure from its grave, and took a moment to eye it lovingly.\n\n It was an old A-2, carefully maintained by its previous owner, though not so carefully preserved by the original wearer. The coat had multiple discolorations in its seal-brown leather where it was re-dyed to hide stains or worn areas. There were several small cuts around the sleeves and elbows. The two straps on the shoulders were both clearly worn. A large, faded painting of a Dauntless dive bomber could be seen on the back of the jacket, but it had long ago lost its hue. \n\n All these imperfections, however, only added to the undeniable character of the jacket. After all, with all the minor damage to the leather, it was clear that this article had seen action. Upon finishing my inspection, I carefully put one arm through a sleeve, and shrugged it on slowly. The leather, softened by use, fit beautifully along my shoulders, and the sleeves tapered off neatly just above my wrists. It fit wonderfully, and I immediately asked the gentleman how much he wanted for the jacket. \n\n After purchasing the jacket, I retired to a quiet spot just outside my hangar. I sit against a concrete divider, taking in the cool autumn breeze, and wondering just who the man was that first owned this jacket. What sort of a character was he? Images of a brave, handsome young officer, grinning widely as he sits astride a wing of his menacing air machine immediately flood into my mind. Daring night missions, illuminated only by the light of tracer rounds and exploding flack pierce this image, quickening my heart and tantalizing my mind's eye. Laughter from a small table in a rowdy inn somewhere in France bring me to a smile as my imaginary hero sits, triumphantly raising a pint with his fellow airmen to celebrate another successful operation. And lastly, I feel the warmth in my bones as I see my aviator returning home, greeted in front of his family home by all those he loves dearly. \n\n I smile, and, finishing my daydream, I stand up, stretch, and begin walking towards my beautiful blue Cessna resting quietly beneath a steel awning. I'm greeted by the familiar buzz and drone of civilian air traffic, singing a familiar and comforting sonnet above me. " ]	2
	[WP] A hacker hacked into a computer with a webcam being live.	[ "NSFW\n\nThere’s been nothing but the pixelated silhouette of a black leather chair in the frame for damn near 4 hours. Something will happen. He knows something will happen. He’s waited too long for nothing to happen.\n\nThe light switch click startles him. His bloodshot, blurry eyes need to focus now. He cleans off his glasses on his Dorito crumb One Piece shirt. He sees her… God he sees her.\n\nKlarisa Kliesden, star of the hit show Catching the Kliesden’s. She is beautiful. An Angel. He squeaks in anticipation. She moves out of frame and a green blouse flops onto the brown leather chair. He is dizzy, he almost forgets to start recording the webcam.\n\nShe is out of frame for 3 agonizing minutes, then like the rarest creature on earth caught on a camera she moves into the shot… fully nude.\n\nHis lust is thrust aside abruptly when he sees the gun. She holds it limply in her hand as she hunches over the bed crying. “NO, don’t!” he yells at his HD monitor.\n\nHer sobs grow louder. He shouts louder. She sits up straight, her perfect breasts fully taught and quivering. The gun is on her chin.\nWith an inhuman dexterity, he dials her private line. He whispers in a whimper “pickup pickup pickup”. He hears the ring through his computer speakers. She puts the gun to her side and moves to the desk so that only her tan-lined thigh is in the shot.\n\n“Hello, who is this?”, she doesn’t sound like she’s been crying at all. She’s such a great actress.\n\n“Listen! Don’t do it! I can see you through your computer webcam… I just want you to know how much I love your show…”\n\n“STOP WATCHING ME!”\n\nBLAM!", "This is so easy; I barely took a breath to get in. I smiled as I clicked and clacked my way through to find programs this victim uses on a regular basis. Perhaps the victim put some money I could use. As I pulled out the tasks list to try and find programs that are frequently used, I noticed that a task is currently active is a web cam. I clicked on it and it brought up a window, a young adult woman sat there staring at the web cam.\n\n“I just… I just have enough.” She spoke into it, Despite the potato quality of the web cam, I could see her make up running from her eyes. “I try so hard, I tried to face my fears. I even put on these-“ She pointed to her face. “- just to try and maybe impress someone enough that they would come talk to me.\n\nI quirked a bit, it’s a vlog of some sort. Poor lunatic doesn’t even know I’m watching her. I closed the window and continued to try and find frequently used programs. I arrived at her documents, I paused, hovering my mouse over My Videos. Should I? I thought. I clicked the mouse and there was a whole array of videos, each of them time-stamped. I randomly clicked one of them and watched through of it.\n\nThe video was basically about her moping about being alone, how she feels like making the vlog gives her some feel of interactions with someone else. She said she was going to try and stop, but she also said she doesn’t know if she was willing to stop. I clicked another video and this time she talked about suicide. Nothing provides the reason for her to live. She’s all alone at work, no one wants to hang around with her, and she gets home and does nothing all evening. Her parents are dead, so she doesn’t have that option.\n\nYet another video, this time she said that she doesn’t want to quit because she doesn’t want to die the way she is now. She wants to die having friends. I felt touched; it’s not easy trying to make friends with people, especially since everyone I’m around doesn’t know computers as well as them not wanting to bother with it. So I’m all isolated with my computer.\n\nI went back to the live web cam, and her bedroom is fully lit, she’s sitting on the far side of the room, potato quality makes it hard to tell if she’s crying or not. But it wasn’t terrible that I could clearly see a faint outline of a noose hanging from the blinding light that flickers. Today’s the day.\n\nI entered some commands to allow me to fully take control of the computer on her end, I clicked Word Document and typed in “I’ll be your friends.” But she didn’t budge, instead she climbed on top of her chair and wrapped the noose around her neck. I deleted the phrase I typed, went to font size and oversized the number. As soon as I tried to type “Stop.” She knocked over the chair. I quickly went to her settings and tried to find her location. I found a rough location and I picked up the phone.\n\nBut two things stopped me. One, it was too late, the cops take forever to get to places, so I have no doubt that they won’t get to her on time, and two, I hacked into her computer. I illegally did this, if I call in, I’m in trouble with no rewards such as saving someone’s life. I slowly set the phone down, close down everything and crawl to bed. I start to cry myself to sleep" ]	2
	[WP] Your fired!	[ "My fired shots hung in the air. Time seemed to stand still. Everyone had hoped it wouldn't come to this. The enemy frontline stood only a few meters away. They were just like me: young, scared, and only following orders. \n\nThis wasn't meant to happen. We weren't ordered to fire. We had stood there for so many agonizingly tense minutes, that when I heard that noise- I don't even know what it was- instinct just took over. I needed to survive. My finger squeezed the trigger.\n\nI watched the young man in front of me drop to his knees in a pool of his own blood. \n\nAll hell broke loose.", "The invention of fi-blue technology had dramatically reduced bandwidth problems from oldschool wifi. Upload and download speeds had increased a thousand fold.\n\n\nAnd now, I can hardly wait to get my hands on the newest model. I pull it out of the box lovingly.\n\n\n\"Ah....my very own fi-red.\" I cannot help but feel pure contentment setting it up.\n\n\n-Sorry, I could not resist." ]	2
	[WP] Describe a Godzilla style monster fight, from the point of view of one of the monsters.	[ "A deafening roar blasts from my impressive maw. I feel the hot, putrid air rise from my stomach. My large tail slaps the ocean, side to side, and I steel up the other beast just in front of me. Ok, not so bad. He's an ugly brute, sure, but I don't much give a damn if my rival is good looking and what. His claws are the size of sickles, yeah. He could flatten a garbage truck with his feet, so? All of my confidence stirs within me, and the charge the mug. Our scaled arms grip one another, muscles bulging with great effort. I bite into his rough, dense neck, and the taste of radioactive monster blood fills my mouth. A pesky metal fly controlled by puny beings, buzzing very loudly, is flying in between us during this battle. I would very much like to swat the thing but that would require letting go of my enemy. More metal insects surround us, and I see groups of the tiny, pink, squishy, thumb-ed creatures. They yell and scream at the sight of me, more of their metal fly's surrounding me. Great! Fans.", "I stomped through the streets of the city searching desperately for her. After the incident at the beach I had lost track of her and she had disapeared into the crowds of people fleeing from me. I was a normal man once and we loved each other her and I. I knew that if anyone could help them see me as a human being and not a towering monster it would be her. As I stepped over a city block I knew in my heart that it was hopeless, to find one woman in a rapidly emptying city was impossible and besides that she probably didn't even want to be near me anyway. I could hear the jets coming at me their missiles locked and loaded ready to take me out before I could do more damage. Yet as I resigned myseld to my gloomy fate I saw a lone figure halfway across the city it was her! What was she thinking, the army was coming and there were probably nukes ready to shoot as a last resort. It was too late for me and I knew it but if they where reckless enough to put her in danger who knows how many people they are going to make collateral damage. It was at that moment that I knew exactly what I needed to do.", "You know, all I wanted to do today was relax. Sleep in a bit, catch up on my reading, maybe eat some Japanese later. But noooooo, someone had to go and wake me up.\n\nI mean, sure, this is my job, but it's my day off. That was in the contract: one day off per month. It's a pretty sweet perk, along with the dental and medical plan. Gotta keep these teeth sharp, and reattaching limbs is hard to do myself.\n\nI already called the Boss, but he says I don't have a choice and, sorry, but they can't even pay me overtime for it. Apparently someone misread the timesheet and woke up the other guy a little early too, so we're stuck. Maybe we can go to the Underground Bar and get beers when we're done. The Aliens and Predators have their weekly matchup, and I've got the Aliens taking it by 4.\n\nWell, nothing to be done for it, I suppose. I think I'll throw this low-end Civic at him first. We're told the governments all got together and complained about the cost of our fights, so the higher ups are trying to get us to minimize our damage. They put posters up and everything. You know, \"A cheap car is just as effective!\". Which is fine, I guess, but it would help if they didn't keep scheduling us to fight in urban areas. I put in a suggestion that we maybe try for a nice field one day, but apparently that's \"just not interesting\".\n\nAh, there he is. \n\n\"ROOOOOOOAR!\"\n\nYes, yes. The traditional trash-talking session. Some of these guys just aren't good at the insults, but the new training manuals should help.\n\n\"ROOOOOOOOOOOOAR!\"\n\nReally? A joke about my mother? I'll have you know she was a lovely lady, with the most beautiful fur.\n\nWait, why is that human running towards us? I swear, some of these people are morons. We've also been told to try to limit how many people die, but sometimes they make it a little hard for us to avoid. Yeah, see? That idiot just got stomped on. \n\nBut I guess it's my turn. I think I'll insult his mother, too. Seems only fair. Here goes...", "This world had changed. Not for the better.\n\nThe great worm remembered how it had been, once. Thick, cloying jungles of heat and chattering sound, filled with sticky, wet mud and teeming lizards. The small and the large - oh yes, the large - that stalked through trees and slithered through cold seas. He remembered, as time and growth went on, how the large had become small and the small had become not much at all. He remembered, eventually, foreboding ceilings of collapsing trees and roaring waves surging out of his path, and the smell of fear from the lizards as he opened his jaws to reveal stretching mandibles, and walls of uncountable teeth.\n\nThere had been no lizards since his Waking. There had been something big in the water, at the start - all meat and blubber and rubbery skin, that balmed the ache in his teeth as he managed to chew a few times before the sludge of it slaked down his throat. A few small things floating on the surface had been dragged down by a sudden riptide and fallen into jaws, and eventually the worm had followed these breadcrumbs to their source, on the surface. \n\nHe had found a new jungle. Waves had torn chunks loose and slapped the ground to herald his presence, and the Hunger that constantly pressed at the back of his multitude of eyes drove him forward, with stabbing, mortal pangs. The great centipede lumbered inland, the towers that served as trees crumbling and sliding down his chitinous legs with every step. \n\nThe prey, such as it was, scurried in streams of tiny dots between the towers, spilling around his infinity of legs. He gave half-hearted snaps at the towers. Every so often, through the fog of smoke and gore and fear, the worm would stoop, and his mandibles would stretch across streets to scoop in puddles of fleeing humanity. He supped from the seas of tiny prey, and felt weak pulses of satisfaction as they tumbled down his throat. \n\nFlying insects hovered around him, whirring, blasting inches off his chitinous armour. Green insects, slithering through the rubble like he did and almost big enough for him to see their shape, flared and fired volleys of almost-pain into his infinity of knees. Spurts of acidic venom drooled from his mandibles, thick and pus-yellow and sizzling, and the insects were mostly a thick, sludging soup even before he stooped down to eat them.\n\nThere was nothing to chew. Nothing to digest. No meat to hunt. Instinct and the Hunger prodded him into trudging forward, shrugging off the city around him, but perhaps the seas hid better prey in their depths. Follow the ripples, to the blubber and the floating -\n\nAnd then, suddenly, a booming roar. \n\nThe worm noticed, dimly, that the seas of prey were beginning to change their current. Now some of the streams were trickling towards him, barely realising their error before they were scooped up by another bite from his sky-sized maw. But the light was shifting, treacherously, in the billowing smoke, and some terrible shadow was shoving its way forward, and looming over him.\n\nIt was a lizard. A stooped, lumbering thing with wings furling at its back like a cape. It shoved aside a tower with one of its many arms, sending the thing cascading into some more before they were obscured entirely by the billowing dust. Its own jaws opened, and flared.\n\nThe worm had a second to tense before plasma burst down upon it like the wrath of a vengeful god. Chitin was scorched away, and the nerves beneath it screamed pain right to the insect's mind. It was hot, hotter than the hottest jungle, and some of the centipede's extraneous flesh oozed down its plating from the pressure.\n\nThen it stopped. The lizard needed time for a second blow. The smell of cooked flesh searing from the worm's own back tickled its nostrils and stroked its belly. The Hunger growled. The lizard's must have too - it lunged forward, crocodile jaws worrying the chitin as it tried to pry it loose entirely.\n\nIt was a moment of kinship, of something he knew - more than he'd felt for anything in this world thus far. His mind roared with the hunt, and liked it, as the worm's head reared up towards the lizard's underbelly. Mandibles tore loose soft flesh, pumping venom into muscle and fat and down into the veins. The worm chewed, and chewed, surging forward as the lizard fell back, and didn't want to stop.\n\nAs the lizard struggled its last beneath him, he decided that he liked it, too. ", "Long\n\nSomething returned the call.\n\nNot something metallic, created by the peach and brown beings that covered the world, but something organic. Not a whale, sending out a beautiful chorus through the ocean, but something massive. Not an aged call, maturely and expertly woven to send a signal conveying a profound message, just a scream.\n\nI leaned out of the soft current I rode on and aligned myself in a new direction. Much to my surprise the creature was seemingly only few thousand lengths of myself away. A distance I would cover in no time at all as I shifted my body through the deep water to build speed as the petty small sea life scattered in every direction.\n\nSo small, some of them they bounced off my body and the scent of their blood entering the water was the way I knew they had even struck me. So pathetic were the creatures of this world, that quivered in my presence, attempting to carve out a meaninglessly short life in the abyss.\n\nI reached the waters surface, my scales piercing it as I brought my head above momentarily, just to glimpse the pale blue sky and catch a view of the horizon. The sky, the sea, the horizon. The only things I considered more powerful than myself, everything else was so weak, so fragile and tiny despite their attempts at violence. \n\nAs I soared through the waters my calls bounced back from all around. Although not audible to most creatures, the noise I made gave me far-reaching eyes in my marine home, shouting back where existed every shark, whale and metal shell. Right now I felt metal shells moving to re-align themselves with my body, the bipedal beings of the Earth scurrying to gaze at my large body yet again.\n\nI often wondered what they tried to communicate, how they thought or even what they wanted. To have wrestled control from the world they must possess intelligence far beyond any other animal I've come in contact with, yet even as I tried to call to their ships they simply echo back. Their metal shells crudely shouting into the sea to find where I am but unable of anything grander. If only the bipeds themselves could speak on the level that I could, maybe then they would be able to understand.\n\nBursting onto the land I saw the waves flatten their toys as they ran screaming and yelling in every direction. At least, I assumed that was their cries of desperation, as they were so quiet I don't believe I could hear them if they spoke normally. I saw them gesture angrily at me, gesture to draw attention and gesture ways to escape my incredible size, and the roaring waves that heralded my coming. \n\nCrushing the paths they built under my feet I once again found myself curious as to how irritated they were by my presence. I was aware they saw more with their eyes than they heard with their ears - as made obvious by their obsession with pointing - but did that mean they cared more for the toys and territory I made my mark on? If only my very existence didn't seem to spark such heavy emotions in the bipedals then maybe I would be interested in trying to learn to talk to them. I had observed them in secret before, watching them like a child watches the fish, but whenever I appeared they became so much louder and active.\n\nThe scent of the creature filled my lungs as I breathed in the disgusting land air and I saw the creature climbing up a nest building of the bipeds. Despite my indifferent attitude towards the bipeds, even I knew to smash their nests was rude. I heaved and bellowed out a challenging roar that shook the nests around me, shattering some of the more fragile materials the bipeds used in their construction.\n\nThe hairy beast growled back, snarling and screaming. \n\nA filthy immature threat, I could not let such a brute pollute MY world. \n\nI closed the distance, doing my best to avoid destroying too many of the many complicated nesting buildings the bipeds used, but my opponent gave no such care, rampaging over the stone and metal structures between us. Such ignorance to act like the bipeds didn't exist, such arrogance to claim superiority at such a young age. This miserable excuse for an animal insulted me by his actions alone regardless of the hideous appearance he brought with him, despite how offensive that was also.\n\nHe leaped off a nest towards me, his large arms raised above his stumpy head as he attempted to roar.\n\nI lumbered to the side as I took account of his strengths. Long arms that reached almost the length of his whole body and held a tremendous width, speed that let him move twice as fast as my powerful self and a blatant disregard of his environment.\n\nHe pounded the ground next to me, tearing up the darkened ground as I threw my body back towards him using my enormous weight to send him straight through a nest.\n\nFor me to win this fight, I too would have to disregard my environment. I could only hope the bipeds would understand that their vastly complicated nests would have to suffer.\n\nI tried to stomp on his foot but he pulled himself back and too his feet before I could even straighten myself. He swung his humongous arms and caught my jaw, pain shooting through my long neck as I felt the force attached. Another blow hit me in the chest as he tried to grapple me.\n\nHe was stronger than I thought.\n\nI felt anger build in me and I sunk my enormous teeth into his shoulder. The creature screamed as his grapple instantly weakened, with one of his arms in immense pain. I sunk them in deeper as I tensed my whole body, lifting from legs the muscles of my necks screamed as I lifted him off his feet and into the nearby towering nest. \n\nHe smashed into it with thundering force and I felt the ground shake as he landed, the tall nest swaying as it attempted to deal with the impact also. I pushed myself forward charging into my enemy as he rose, attempting to have him crushed by the nest if I could. But as he ground up against the creaking nest he slammed both his giant fists into my shoulders, making me buckle, setting him up to swing around his right arm and punch me so hard in the jaw I felt myself thrown back.\n\nStumbling back I tried to regain my ground, but it was too late as the shaggy monster lunged at me with surprising strength and sent me sideways through several smaller nests. As I landed, I felt him land near me, his lunge costing him his footing. I felt my titanic body groan as I pushed myself up before he could get above me and lay into me as I feared I would never be able to prevent such an onslaught. He was ready before I was however and again grappled me, punching me here and there. \n\nI felt slight panic realising that my previously unstoppable strength could have been out-matched by this savage's speed. I needed to take advantage of my own strengths but I couldn't escape his grasp. My rival got cocky however and pushed me away, going for large sweeping blows, that despite their power left me with much larger gaps of opportunity. I raised my face from my defensive stance pretending to bite and clenched as the blow struck me sideways, but I harvested the momentum to swing around my whole body having my great tail hit him with a force so loud the air cracked.\n\nThe wretched thing was lifted off his feet and sent soaring. He crashed to the ground, rolling over many nests and sending ground and dust in every direction. \n\nI knew what I needed to do now.\n\nUtilising the nest locations I lined myself up with my opponent so that an open chasm was available to him. I knew that the fool would take the chance to charge me, so I leaned forward letting out a terrifying roar. Taunting my opponent. Insulting him with my bellowing voice. \n\nHe snarled and growled back as he brought himself to all fours, prepping himself for the imminent charge.\n\nI leaned back, my body building up as the monster shifted his own, the fire in my stomach pulsed throughout my scales and skin as I bore my chest to the beast. \n\nThe roaring animal rocketed forward.\n\nAnd I realised the powerful fires of my ancestors at him like a raging current. The blue flames washing over his face as he screamed in horrendous pain.\n\nThe fire overtook his face and his howling body came ripping towards me as he collapsed in agonsing pain but found himself totally unable to prevent the colossal momentum he had built as his body came to a stop at me feet.\n\nI unceremoniously raised one foot and brought my whole weight crashing down upon his burning face. \n\nCrunch.\n\nAnd the fool was defeated. \n\nI smirked before taking a step back to roar, verbally sounding my success to the world louder than a volcano could hope to muster.\n\nI had had stronger opponents.\n\nThe quiet shouts of happy bipeds filled the air as I passed them towards the sea.\n\nTo them I must some sort of grand guardian. Maybe defeating these threats excuses me for the damage I cause to them and their homes.\n\nFrankly I didn't care.\n\nThey were just small fish that bounced off my scales. I only cared about keeping myself alive. They could do what they wished. ", "Hungry \n\nHoly crap, you're awake. I thought I was stuck on the bottom of the ocean in a carcass that refused to rot due to being the brilliant invention of a mad scientist forever. I still don't know why I couldn't move the body at all with you gone. I mean, it wouldn't be terrible being stuck in this over-sized monstrosity of a body if he had given me control of this... Thing that I ride in the brain of. \"Hey, assistant\" he told me,\"come help me with this experiment!\" And of course, I did it. Amazing what we students are willing to do for a good reference. I just wanted to get my doctorate and eeeveryone talked about his ability to get students he liked into any school.\n\nHungry\n\nSorry, big'uns. I'm really happy to have someone to talk to since I haven't had anyone for awhile and good GRIEF, you just ate a blue whale really quickly. Which makes sense. We've gone the last 30 years without eating. Man, I thought we were dead. Sitting on the ocean floor after that nuke hit us definitely made me wonder what happened. And why I could still think. Assuming I'm thinking and not a dream.\n\nHungry\n\nThen eat something else, idiot.\n\nHungry \n\nOooh, hang on. I don't know if getting out of the ocean is good. You remember what happened last time humanity saw us? Everything they threw at us hurt like a bitch! I don't want to go through that again.\n\nHungry\n\nI don't know why I'm arguing. You've never listened to me before and, as we both are aware, I can't do a damn thing to stop you.\n\nHungry\n\nYa, I know. These people really do taste good. Is this cannabalism? I'm not sure if I qualify as human anymore. Whatever, if this makes you happy then do it.\n\nHungry\n\nYou pretty much just ate a city. Was that Miami? I don't know if I'm more disturbed or impressed. Are you full now? No? I suppose I understand, three decades will build up an appetite.\n\nHungry \n\nI still can't figure out how you, how we, digest everything. I mean, we just ate a bunch of trees and rocks. I'm not bothered, just curious as to-sonofaBITCH that hurt! What was that???\n\nHungry?\n\nI don't know, I'm trying to-OW, there it is!\n\nHungry?\n\nI'm... It's a giant... Monkey-crocodile-bat fusion? I don't know but it's throwing buildings at us.\n\nHungry!\n\nWell then. If your hungry, I happen to be looking at something that might be edible. That just threw a damn cruise ship at us. Ouch.\n\n... Hungry?\n\nEat it.\n\n... Hungry. \n\nEat it.\n\nHungry\n\nEAT IT.\n\nHUNGRY\n\nOh, damn. I don't think that is supposed to bend like that, oh my. Well I'm sure it didn't need that arm. Or that wing. And I suppose we didn't need that tentacle. Or that third tail. But it probably needed that section if it's... What is that, a thorax? Oh my, those eyes pop really easily. Ya, bitch! Thought you could fight me? Fight US? DO YOU KNOW WHO WE ARE?\n\nHUNGRY\n\nDAMN STRAIGHT. THIS IS OUR WORLD NOW.\n\n*HUNGRY*" ]	6
It's 11:30AM on a normal Tuesday. You're up to your normal routine for this time and day. All of a sudden something strange happens... After quick and intense flash of light, your eyes re-adjust to find the scenary has drastically changed. You're now what appears to be in the past...but even stranger, everything within 10 feet of you (whole - as in no people who were cut in half) was also transported with you. What happens next?	[WP] You're suddenly transported 200 years into the past, along with everything in a 10-foot radius. What do you do?	[ "I dont really write, but perhaps I can give additional scenario to someone who wants to write on my Behalf.\n\n\n\nI was sitting on an asphalt road five minutes ago. In Mississauga, a stones throw from hwy 407&Mavis road. I saw a menancing red fireball fly at my truck. Now, I am surrounded by forest. Maybe I died? But if I died, why am I sitting in my work truck...\n\n\n\n\nSitting confused in my E350 Ford Work Van. I check to see what I have; Full tank of diesel, sewer inspection equipment(500ft of plastic incased copper wire, computer, power inverter, tractor, camera, a power inverter that runs off the alternator, pick axe, sledge hammer), a lighter, lunch for the day and my best friend/coworker.\n\n\n\n\nHow in Gods name did I get here? And what do I do now...", "Day One: June/24/2014\nI.\nThe old dirt hills are back and the plots are barren again. I remember playing there when I was nine years old before they were leveled out to make room for Old Bob and the rest of the neighbors from that side of the road. They're gone now. Everyone is gone. The rest of the house is gone, the cars, the truck, the barn, the fences, all of those are gone. E 1/4 road is gone without even a phantom trace to tell that it had ever been. The telephone poles have been swallowed up. So this is Clifton, Colorado. Did it ever exist? \n\nI know where I am because the Bookcliffs still tower above the high plains. To the west the mountains remain stark and rocky. To the east is the Grand Mesa with its surface verdant and clean. To the south...it doesn't matter. I'm going to head towards the river, and follow that. If there is another human being left in the world, I'll find them there.\n\nII.\nI've never been happier to be a smoker. I started this fire with the lighter I stole from Emily...when she came up from Louisiana. Which raises an interesting question. Mom and them. Are they gone, too? The battery in my phone is going to die by morning. It's going to make the walk to Denver that much harder. I wonder if...\n\nI left the computer jack in my nonexistent bedroom. Yep. It's going to die. I guess this is the last time i'll hear anyone croon \"It's all over now...baby blue.\" Not a big loss, I guess. What's going to be a big loss is the last of my club crackers. If i'm the last person alive...I'm going to drown myself in this river.\n" ]	2
The math is very difficult.	[WP] At the age of 10, everyone takes a reasoning test that determines their social class for the rest of their lives	[ "It was simple, really. Mark A,B,C,or D. At the end, I was asked to write down my input. I wrote that my input was that I could not fathom of how knowing what letter to choose meant you were rich. Simple test, complex for some, but it only filters out few people away from a middle class social status.\n\nI was then put in charge of making the tests.", "As on every Futures Day, stone-faced Government Affinity Reps trekked between the towering apartment blocks. Bags hung at their shoulders filled with letters addressed to each of the 10 year olds living in housing complexes C2 through C15. Each Rep remembers the day they received their own letter and know how important this task is, a fact accentuated by the hand delivery of real paper letters, as opposed to direct digital message.\n\nAt every door, subdeci families living near street level waited anxiously for their deliveries and Reps greeted them with indifference or outright contempt. While the Reps hated the subdecis, they loved and feared the superdecis who lived high above in the luxury sky aparatment. They knew that, as 10's themselves, they were inferior to the superdecis and accepted the abuse they suffered, as those above them were always just, as they were just to those below themselves.\n\n\nAaron Ramirez had watched his parents abuse these Reps his entire life. When his older brother's letter had arrived his father had joked, \"You better score well, Paulo, or you'll end up a waste of space like this glorified mailman!\"\nAaron did not know what a mailman was, but from how his mother and grandparents laughed, and the nervous and hurt but polite smile that crossed the Delivery Rep's face, a mailman was either something very funny or very bad.\n\nToday was Aaron's Futures day, and he was nervous. His brother Paulo had scored a 15 and his parents, who were both 14's themselves, had been overjoyed, but Aaron was not as confident. He had never excelled in anything academic like Paulo and the testing that had lasted 12 hours had confused him from start to finish. His parents had not picked up on how he was feeling, and they were already in celebration mode as they heard the tone sound from the doorbell. \n\nAs his father made jokes about the Rep at the door Aaron could barely think straight. \n\nPlease be at least 12. 11 even. He thought. 11 is still superdeci. 11 is alright.\n\nScores like these would disappoint his parents but he knew he wouldn't disappear. He had heard one of Paulo's friends had scored well below his parents and was now no longer in school. What happened to him and other children like him was never discussed but the parents of children who scored low and remained at home were gossiped about relentlessly among his parents and their friends.\n\nAaron had to make it.\n\nAs his father closed the front door and handed him the letter, Aaron sprinted to his room, locking his door behind him. He had to know.. now. But didn't want to let everyone see. His family knocked at his door, still in a celebratory mood, assuring Aaron not to be nervous.\n\n\"Come out, sweetie.\" Crooned his mother. \"Don't be nervous.\"\n\nAt this Aaron tore open his envelope, ruining the pristine paper that many kept with them framed along with their number, marking the day that they officially entered the superdeci world.\n\nAaron did not enter the superdeci world that day, nor would he ever be able to. As he saw that plainly written number \"9\", the blood drained from his face. Silently he opened his window, and slipped through the bars that were their to keep him safe, and flung himself into the night.\n\nAaron was one of 14 suicides that Futures Day, and one of 119 that week, as subdecis raised by superdecis ended their lives, avoiding a humiliating, painful future.\n\n", "I looked over the paper for the third time, unable to take in the truth that was presenting itself to me in ink. \n\n\"This is a perfect score. A full two hundred marks...\"\n\nMy companion palmed at his mouth, trying to find some words to say but finding nothing.\n\nI continued. \"Has this every happened before? I mean, ever? In the history of the test?\"\n\nRobert continued to just look confused as he spoke \"I, I've heard of 190?\"\n\n\"Yes but that was just a rumour wasn't it? A lie sent to spark imaginations and keep up hope in the lower classes? Right?\"\n\n\"Well Oak I thought so too but now we're looking at a perfect test.\"\n\nI shook my head. \"We must have gotten at least one wrong-\"\n\n\"It's been through through 3 separate markers before it even got up to our offices, and you know fine well everyone under us has already double checked it.\"\n\n\"Yes but that's only 8 people, maybe-\"\n\nRobert cut me off. \"We need to call the GGI. There isn't any other option. We're out of our depth here.\"\n\nI picked up the test, holding up the last page to the light as if- \"Robert wait.\"\n\nOak looked back at me, still putting on his coat \"What?\"\n\nI pointed. \"He's left a message for the GGI, that you can only see if you hold it up to the light.\"\n\nThe statement hung in the air, like a damp cloth lying flatly over a washing line.\n\nQuestion 24 is unfair if you've never heard about Gallians.\n\n\"He also knows how to write...\" I stammered. The subject matter didn't concern me, who taught a common child how to write?\n\nRobert pulled across some paper and grabbed a quill, furiously writing down details. \"Oak, I'm making a note of this just now, this is like nothing I've ever seen. What was that boys name?\"\n\nI stood up, walking over to the window, looking out into the courtyard to look at a small, black haired boy \"Rui. Rui Gorlas.\"", "1) You are very hungry because your unemployed parents cannot afford to feed you breakfast, and due to the food shortage from the Crisis in the West, the Apple-Pill machine is offline. You find an Apple-Pill on the ground. Do you:\n\n* Eat the Apple-Pill\n* Report your parents\n* Pray for the soldiers fighting the West Coast insurgency\n\n2) It's three-thirty, time for your favorite show on the Republican Broadcast System. Your parents want you to finish your homework before you plug in. And, today is also Election Day and you have been designated as a Child Crisis Actor to assist your friendly SWAT team while they practice quelling the imminent riots. Do you:\n\n* Experience RBS in holoscopic reality, and then play your role in the imminent Election Day riot\n* Do your homework like your parents commanded? (Warning: Willfully ignoring your parents may lead to your arrest and subsequent trial as an adult)\n* Answer Hollywood's call and be a crisis actor\n\n3) Your friends Mac and Chez have told you about an unprotected port in the school bathroom. Do you:\n\n* Report your friends as likely terrorists\n* Report the unprotected port\n* Report your parents for sending you to an unsecured school\n\n4) A strange man from the government visits your classroom and passes out a pill to each student. He tells you the pill is to protect you from the Liberal thinking. Your friends Mac and Chez hide their pill and don't take it. After taking your pill, do you:\n\n* Report Mac and Chez as likely terrorists\n* Don't report Mac and Chez because they must be scheduled for catatonia\n* Report the students sitting next to Mac and Chez for not reporting them\n\n5) The most effective tool for quelling a student insurgency is a:\n\n* Hammer\n* Baseball Bat\n* 9mm Pistol\n\n6) Write an essay about why you think the US collapsed. Discuss why the militarized police of the West Coast are still fighting the New US military. Explain why the New US is the best place on Earth.\n\n7) In the following space, write how much you love your Dear Leader\n\nScoring\n\nThere are fifteen points possible on the exam, with a possible ten points of extra credit total for reporting suspicious test taking activity, parental violations, or suspected anti-Republican sympathies, for a total of twenty five points.\n\n* 0 - 3: Suspected anti-Republican sympathies. Schedule for \"Rebirth\".\n* 4 - 5: Stock Class. Future food supplier\n* 6 - 8: \"My People\" class. Does all the hard work. Very important job.\n* 9 - 10: \"My Beloved People\" class. Supervises \"My People\" class. Very, very important job.\n* 11 - 12: \"My Protectors\" class. Makes sure \"My People\" and \"My Beloved People\" are doing their jobs.\n* 13 - 15: \"My Pretty\" class. Reserved for the best looking women. \n* 16 - 17: \"My Pretty Pony\" class. This is a test. I like My Pretty Pony. Execute the teacher if a student scores this.\n* 18 - 19: \"My Proud People\" class. Own and run the businesses I want to shop in.\n* 20 - 21: \"My Family\" class. Reserved for important people.\n* 22 - 25: \"My 'Real' Family\" class. Must be related by blood.\n", "We call it the Test, the name of the person who invented it has long passed from societies collective memory, but everyone took it when they were 10 and it locks us into this weird social structure for the rest of your life. It gives you your income, it gives you your job, it gives you everything you apparently need.\n\t\nParents proudly dress their children in the best clothes they can afford, walk down with them to the testing halls and anxiously wait to hear if their child is destined to become a noble, a writer, an accountant or a scientist. It doesn't even matter if you know a thing about science, that's what you become.\n\t\nEveryone refuses to talk openly about the Test, referring to it only in veiled whispers, so that it becomes an object of legend for children, a great rite of passage. In fact, the test is very simple and little do most people know, it is the same for everyone. I remember my own vividly, it's difficult to forget.\n\t\nI was taken from my parents and led into a small sterilised room, there were three men gathered around a computer, each with clipboards, ready to take notes. I was sat at a table, on which there was an egg. That was it, there were no instructions, they just watched me.\n\nI asked questions and they refused to respond, they continued to watch me. After a while I cracked the egg on the side of the desk, letting the yolk run to the floor. I broke the eggshell up into small pieces making as many patterns as I could. After a while one of the men ordered me to stop, he took their notes and fed them into the computer, I was returned to my parents and we waited for the results.\n\t\nI achieved one of the best results possible, my parents were overjoyed, at the age of 16 I was given a flashy apartment and immediately began earning the largest salary society can provide. Most of society are subservient to me and I must appear as some sort of god, or mystic prophet to them. \n\t\nThese days I wake up, put on my white coat and head to work. I grab my clipboard and watch 10 year old children play with an egg in a small sterilised room. Nobody ever told me what the egg is for.\n", " I beat the system. Passing through the streets, I do not need to look where I step, and glancing around myself to ensure of that would be below my status as a High Lady. I do not need to see the lower casses, the mere Lords and Ladies, the Commons, Workers, Lessers or Scum. The Scum avert their eyes and make their way to the other side of the street, the cars of the Commons swerve around me as I pass through the street. A brief moment of eye contact with a High Lord I noticed in the park will probably be all the social contact I want to have today. I beat the system, the system that nobody is supposed to understand.\n\n It was the year 2112. I was ten years old. All the children in my class, in my neighbourhood, in my city, county and country born in the year 2102 were collected into the Class Assignment Society House. We were given our tools, two pencils and a lump of clay, but we were yet to be told what to do with them, as we were seated in pre-assigned pairs to a physics lesson far beyond our understanding. I was seated next to Markus, who had been a dear friend of mine since before we could speak. My parents had been Commons, as had his, though unlike mine, his grandparents had been Commons as well. I knew this, for he was allowed to speak of them.\n\n I had not known what the test would be, beforehand, but I had been determined to not fail. So as we were separated, I said my farewells to Markus, as happily as I could, before being led into the separate testing room. In the room - a mere box, now that I recall it - was only a chair, a table, and a note that explained the task: Use the clay and the pencils to shape an animal figure that can stand on its own legs. Use the pencils as legs.\n\n I beat the system.\n\n I passed the test with flying colours, becoming a High Lady, to be adopted by my current parents, who had also beat the system during their testing, some decades earlier. Being accepted into their society, I believe I became slightly more of a recluse than I had been as a child, for I understood what it would take to be a High Lady. Passing by a man of Scum on the street - kindly going out of my way to not step on him - I wonder what became of Markus, though I have given up on the delusion that he would ever forgive me.\n\nI had taken his pencils as well." ]	6
	[WP] Stairs, you move into a hold haunted house, to find the stairs doing something suspiciously odd...	[ "It ate my dog.\nI have not been down my stairs in a week. They are the most terrifying aspect of my house. Every night, every dreary night in my upstairs prison, I will glance down to the bottom portion of my home. A portion I had missed, a portion I hadn't seen in days. I sometimes hear things down there. I sometimes hear them at the bottom of the stairs. They never climb the stairs, however. They know better.\n\nI owned a dog. It was a small dog, an old corgi bestowed upon me by my mother. She did not like the thing--the woman was not an animal person--but I adored it. And my dog was gone. \n\nIt had happened a week ago. The clock read nine fifty four and my eyes were heavy from a long day. My boss was a demanding fellow, and my workplace was a dilapidated office complex. Life was not too great since I moved out of my apartment and into the old house. I missed that life now. As I trudged up the creaky stairs, I stopped to whistle for my dog. There was a peculiarity, however. The creak my foot had made did not cease. It continued in a drone, a growl that was low and ominous. Frightened and confused, I called for my dog and made my way upstairs in a more rapid pace. The sound of my dog's pawsteps after my own steps were comforting. But they stopped. The creaking stopped. My dog whimpered, but that stopped too.\n\nIt ate my dog. They ate my dog. I don't know of they are one body, I don't know if this house is one body. All I know is that it plans on keeping me hostage; the phones do not work. Every night, I peer down those stairs, into the dark abyss that is my ground floor. I squint my eyes and quiver, for I know that there is something peering back at me.\n", "\"Mom, the stairs are having an orgy again!\"\n\nVeronica stomped out her door in her night robe. She hadn't been able to sleep in days because the stairs wouldn't stop fornicating each other in the middle of the night. She was beginning to regret buying a house that was previously owned by an evil Sex cult.\n\nThe stairs squirmed and thumped every night, and a mixture of voices would say things like, \"ohhh yeah, just like that,\" and \"yeah baby, spit on my corner thingy.\"\n\nJeff looked up at his mom and said, \"I really need to pee. I don't wanna pee on the stairs again. Last time it just made them go even crazier.\"\n\nVeronica had an idea. She grabbed a boombox from her room and blasted Jimmy Spurr's Greatest Polka Hits. The stairs groaned and fell silently into place. Jeff ran down the stares, his feet making small splash noises as he stepped in ectoplasmic semen. He finally got to use the bathroom.", "When James had bought this house, he always felt it was not quite right. While it had been obviously fixed up and cleaned, there were certain places that had been left untouched. Portraits depicting scowling gentlemen were lining every wall, and sometimes you'd get the feeling that they were following you with their eyes. Of course, if you looked back you would see nothing.\n\nAnother odd thing was the floor layout. Immediately after walking through the hallway you would come upon a marble staircase lining the wall all the way to the fifth floor. However, there were platforms and door lining the wall in the middle of the air! As if there should be stairs leading to them, but alas the staircase didn't even come close. James found all this confusing, but seeing as the house was so cheap, he bought it anyway. He and his wife did need the space with a son on the way..\n\n\nEleven years later things started to become even weirder. Throughout the years the stairwell had been the center of many little particularities. Sometimes James thought the doors to the different floors would switch places. He chalked this up to him just being confused by the maze-like corridors and doors that even after years of living here, he never quite understood. James and Lily had decided to mostly just use the bottom floor, seeing as it contained everything they needed. So they avoided the upper floors.\n\nTheir son, though, was a more curious boy. He loved reading fantasy and horror novels and would often go \"ghost hunting\" with his friend. He swore that he sometimes could hear moans, and that objects would start levitating when only he could see them, but his parents paid no thought to this. He was only a child, they reasoned. With a lively imagination.\n\nOne day, a week before their child's birthday something odd happened. Something impossible. They had decided to let their son pick his new room from any of the rooms upstairs. So with a very excited boy, the family climbed up the staircase to the first floor, where they found no room to their satisfaction. They heard and odd rumbling on their way back to the stairs, but assumed it was the wind. However, when they started the climb to the second floor instead of the familiar corridor with two doors (To a study, and to a guest bedroom), they found themselves in a new place. The paint on the walls had started to fall off, and flakes of maroon paint was lining the floor. There was only one door in this place, a heavy oak door with a brass handle.\n\nJames gave his wife a look as if to ask if he was the only one sensing something wrong with this, but as he did so his son gave a shout of \"I'm going to check that room!\" and ran to the door, opening it and disappearing into the darkness. James and his wife quickly followed him, and used the flashlight to quickly locate their child. He was standing in the middle of the room, seemingly watching something intently. \"What's wrong?\" Lily asked and walked over to where her son was standing. What was wrong became apparent. The room they had entered contained only one thing. A skeleton kneeling over a cauldron. It's hand grasping a wooden goblet, apparently frozen in it's attempt to take a drink from the contents. \n\n\"Don't look!\" Lily said and James rushed over. \"Let's go back down and call the police\" James said, and the family rushed out into the corridor, closing the door behind them. As they reached the door to the staircase though, that almost familiar rumbling was heard again, and as they opened the door, the stairs were nowhere to be found. Instead of reaching the platform on which the family was standing on, the stairs were lined up with the opposite wall. \n\n\"What is going on!?\" their son yelled, tears starting to emerge. \"I don't know.\" James said. \"How will we get down?\" his wife asked. \"Don't worry. I'll drop you on the stairs below. It's only a few meters. I'll hold onto you and lower you down.\" \n\nJames helped his wife down first, and then she caught their son when he came after. \"Go get me a ladder or something.\" James said, and his wife and child quickly descended the stairs in the search of a ladder.\n\nAs James was waiting on the platform, he heard a noise, slowly increasing in strength from behind him. It sounded a little like a clatter, like someone dropping a pencil or a fork on the ground repeatedly. As the sounds grew in volume, he decided to open the door to take a look. Inside was the skeleton, still holding it's goblet. It took a step towards him, and he took a step back to the edge of the platform. \"Drink\" it said and pushed the goblets into his face, but James let out a shreik and tried backing away, only to end up taking a step backwards onto a platform that wasn't there. James fell down to the bottom floor, hitting his back on the railing of the stairs and laid still.\n\n\n(Yeah, almost had to make an alternate ending, picks up after Lily and their son go down)\n\n\"Where do we keep the ladders?\" Lily asked their son. \"I don't know!\" he replied. \"Check the closet in the hallway.\" But as they approached the door to the hallway closet, they instead heard a noise. Someone was slowly and loudly knocking on their door. Knock. Knock. Knock. Three times before it went quiet. Lily started walking to open the door \"No mum, don't!\" her son whispered, but she paid him no mind and opened it. \"Yes..?\" she trailed off. Outside stood a giant of a man. At least twice as tall as a normal human, and three times as wide. \"'cuse me. Where do yeh have yer son?\" Lily shrieked and tried to slam the door, but the giant was already on it's way in. Instead she retreated and pressed her back up against the wall, frozen in shock. The giant walked up to their son, similarly frozen, and pulled something out of his pocket. It was a letter. He looked up in confusion at the giant man who only said \"Harry, yer a wizard.", "\"Bob. Bob! Hey, Bob! Come here a minute.\" \n\"Hold your horses, woman. What'da want?\" \n\"It's the stairs, Bob.\" \n\"The stairs? Work just fine. What's wrong with 'em?\" \n\"I'm not sure, Bob. Just... look at this.\" \n\"Right. Yeah. You're on the stairs.\" \n\"Okay. Right. Now, I'm going to walk down the stairs...\" \n\"No, you're moving upstairs!\" \n\"That's my point, Bob. I'm trying to walk down the stairs, but... look!\" \n\"Come on now, stair's ain't exactly got a complicated user interface. You go up, you go down. See? I'm going up just fine. Now, back down-- ah\" \n\"You see? You see?\" \n\"Well, paint me red and call me a barn, you're right! I can't go down the flippin' things.\" \n\"What are we going to do, Bob? We can never go downstairs again!\" \n\"Calm your farm, Barbra--\" \n\"Brenda!\" \n\"Brisket, right. Calm your farm, Brisket. We'll just go upstairs and, oh, phone our local pastor. He'll know just what to do, I'm sure of it.\" \n\"But... what if the stairs stop working that way too? What will we--\" \n\"Now you've gone got all hysterical on me. You see? Look, even Satan thinks you're being silly. Right, Satan?\" \n\"It's true, Bella--\" \n\"Brenda!\" \n\"Splenda, right. It's true, you're being silly. They're just stairs, after all.\" \n\"They're stairs that aren't working right, and now Satan's leaving fiery hoofprints on my carpet, and-- oh, Bob! Today is ruined!\" \n\"Well, dear, you really should have thought of that before you decided you absolutely needed a house with a granite kitchen bench and genuine antique dining chairs. The agent explicitly said this house came with at least 600% more Satan than any other house in the neighbourhood. Should have listened.\" \n\"Hmph.\" \n\"Sulk all you like, dear, that's just how it is. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go upstairs and take a nap. I think I've earned it.\" \n\"Heh.\" \n\"Damnit! Who put this portal to hell right where I always leave my shoes?\" \n\"Whoops :3\" \n\nCamera swivels to focus on Satan, who winks exaggeratedly as the camera pinholes, then fades to black. Screams in the background as the stairs start to eat... whatever her name was. " ]	4
	[WP] A teen is transported into a fantasy world, but discovers its just as boring and mundane as the real world.	[ "Jake opened the book he had bought at the flea market. It was old and dusty, but as he looked at its text, the inside was pristine. He felt himself being sucked into the book and before long he was standing in a forest, far, far away from his bedroom.\n\nJake was no longer holding the book, and as he looked around, he realized he was in some new world. The trees’ leaves occasionally became transparent, revealing a green sky, lit up not only by a bright sun, but tiny little dots of blue lights that looked like stars.\n\nFor the first few hours, he finally felt like life had handed him what he always wanted. He was no longer the boring, unpopular teenager of his world, but instead an explorer of a world of new sights and wonders. The effect wore off, though, as he found a town that looked like it was right out of a renaissance faire.\n\nHe discovered that the world he had stumbled upon was as boring and mundane as the one he left, save for the trees and the sky. In fact, it was basically like he had gone back to the renaissance era, nothing more than that.\n\nJake had to beg on the streets for food, stealing some when he could, and began to wonder how he could ever get back to the life he used to despise. Compared to this one, his old life sure seemed more attractive. The sun was beating down on Jake as he sat against a building. Another beggar came up and sat next to him.\n\n“Eh, hard life,” the beggar said. “Ya n’ t’e mo’d fer a story?”\n\nJake nodded and listened to the man. Although his significant lack of many of his teeth made him hard to understand, Jake was entertained by the story nonetheless. Apparently the world used to be a magnificent place, full of beauty and wonder. When it rained, harmless yellow sparks flew out of the raindrops that fell to the ground. When a rainbow appeared, the whole sky would become a rainbow. In some places, as if defying gravity, rivers would occasionally have spots that went straight up into the air, moved a few feet, then slowly came back to the ground.\n\n“What happened to everything?” Jake asked.\n\nWith sudden clarity, he could understand everything the man said.\n\n“People failed to notice the beauty in front of them,” the beggar said. “They moaned all day about things that were beautiful. They refused to appreciate the things this world had to offer them, so the world began to wilt, to hide the beauty from those whom don’t deserve it.”\n\n“Will it ever come back?” Jake asked.\n\nThe beggar chuckled. “It never really left. If you want to see it, the question is how badly do you want it? The person who not only wants to see the beauty, but also craves it, needs it, is the only one who shall ever see it again. Those who expect the world to give them a life, to give them reason and meaning, never see all that they truly have around them. Those who choose to take hold of their lives, to find meaning and reason, are the ones that can see so much more than they’d ever imagine is possible.”\n\nThe beggar stood up and began to leave. Jake just stared, puzzling over his words. He was content to sit in defeat, to be a beggar in a foreign land, but then he remembered the excitement he’d felt when he arrived in this world.\n\n“Wait!” he shouted to the beggar. “You… Do you know how to get out of here?”\n\nThe beggar slowly studied Jake.\n\n“Yes,” he replied.\n\n“How?” Jake asked, a rising excitement in him. He thought back to his old life, to the few friends he did have, to the things he enjoyed doing. He thought it was boring and mundane, but now he realized there was so much more. So much he never explored, so much he never gave a chance. He had to get back. He had to make something of his life.\n\nThe beggar never replied. Only for a moment, Jake saw him transform, a wise old wizard staring back at him. And then in a puff of smoke, the wizard was gone, and a large dusty old book came flying through the air. Jake caught it, but before opening it, looked around. The sights he saw amazed him. Stars were zooming through the skies. The wind occasionally had a red tint to it and the clouds above let out large sparks of all colors.\n\nJake opened the book and felt himself be sucked back into his normal, mundane life. But now, after all he’d seen, all he’d learned, he saw so much more in his own world. The sounds of the birds chirping, the clear blue sky, and everything else filled his senses like never before. For the first time in a long time, Jake felt alive.\n\n-176", "Back home, I used to waste hours browsing YouTube and Reddit. I battled dragons from my desk chair, screaming at idiots over vent and taking breaks for Cheetos and Code Red. School was boring as hell. Home was boring as school. Gaming was getting as boring as home. So when the old man showed up at the door and asked where I would go if I had the opportunity to go anywhere I could imagine, I glanced at the screen and said told him I’d go somewhere where dragons were real and I had magic powers. I was an idiot.\n\nSee, the first mistake I made was not stressing what powers I’d have. In my mind, of course I controlled the elements – fire and water and air and ether, bending them all to my will in a blaze of glory. Sure, there are mages that can do that here, a few at least. Of course, they stay in their towers and palaces and schools. I tried to get in, but I didn’t qualify. Seems someone didn’t think making people’s shadows move was quite up to their level. The guy laughed at me, sneered in my face. \n\nInstead, I’m training to be a knight, and, let me tell you, it’s no where near what I imagined. Sure, there’s a lot of swinging and slashing and yelling and beating the shit out of targets. But there’s also pulled muscles and bruising and cuts and no Band-Aids and no ibuprofen… or anything stronger. There’s beer, lots of beer, which was nice for a while, but when it’s the only thing you drink, it’s just… boring.\n\nI still haven’t seen a dragon. I won’t unless one burns down this miserable castle or I actually become a knight. I just learned it takes three years of training to get even close to a knighthood. I’m really starting to regret not finishing high school.\n\n---\n-173", "Jaw slack with surprise that quickly gave way to wonder, the youth stared up at the beautiful spiraling towers; the tamed, winged beast that showed in every color of the rainbow; and the tall, elegant people that surrounded him, moving as though in a completely ordinary environment. \n\nIt was the place of his fantasies, not at all disappointing to his expectations. Briefly, he thought of how he had come to be there, but almost immediately shoved those thoughts down. What did it matter? He was there.\n\nHe began to laugh, quietly at first, then loud and shrill. The exotic eyes of the fantastic people turned to him as they passed, some curious, most apathetic. Obvious as it was, he didn't notice the apathy, only the glamorous eyes set into the porcelain faces that were as artful as the city was incredible. \n\nA musical voice cut his mirthful laughter off. \n\n\"Pardon?\" he replied, as he couldn't hear the enchanting tone over his own joy.\n\n\"I asked if you're human, and it appears that you are. What are you doing here? Do you have the proper paperwork and credentials on hand?\" The enchanting voice belonged to a tall, fair-haired man. Handsome fell well short of describing him. Divine came closer to the mark. \n\n\"I-I'm sorry, what? I'm afraid I-\"\n\n\"You're an illegal, aren't you?\" His tone showed a hint of steel. \"Up against the wall, now. As if the approved among you weren't bad enough, we have to deal with you filth daring to sneak in!\" As strong as he was good-looking, he shoved the youth against the perfectly chiseled stone of the wall. \"I'm taking you to customs. I'll enjoy seeing you deported.\"\n\n\"Wait, I dont understand!\" The strange, alien youth screamed as he was roughly led down the immaculate streets of the brilliant city, for the first and last time.", "I thought I was going to end up in the throne room just as the king proclaimed that the land needed a hero. That's how I figured things were supposed to go. I mean, come on. Haven't you read the _books?_\n\nYeah, well, so did I.\n\nIt's nice to think about fantasy as crystal towers and mystical groves of trees and shimmering magical spells, but there's also another side to the genre, and that side includes peasants, farms, and piles of shit. Piles of shit that badly need to be shoveled. And this is what I am doing. I am shoveling shit.\n\nThe woman standing next to me whacks me on the head with a spoon. \"Hurry up, boy!\" she says. \"This shit needs to be all shoveled by supper. Else you'll get no supper!\"\n\nI look at the spoon. I think about its proximity to the shit. I am not sure if I _want_ supper. But I keep shoveling anyway.\n\nWell, I've got to say, if I had to choose between this and a 9-to-5 office job in a cubicle, it'd be a hard decision to make. \n\nI've also got to say: if a bearded old man comes up to you offering a portal to a distant other world, please gouge out his mysterious eyes. For me.\n" ]	4
Describe either the incident itself or the aftermath. (Exactly what the man was trying to put in the drink is up to you ...)	[WP]A woman catches a man trying to put something in her drink. It's one of her best friends.	[ "Connie sat alone at the bar as per usual. She came here every Friday night. Same bar, same seat, same drink. Why? Simple. The bartender was her bestfriend from college.\n\n\"Hey Xavier! Let me get another one!\" She yelled probably a bit louder than neccessary towards her friend.\n\n\"Sure, one sec Connie,\" said Cavier as he mixed the drink. Once he finished, he poured it into a glass and slid it to Connie. \n\nConnie eyed the glass skeptically. Something was off. Then it hit her.\n\n\"Hey Xavier! What are you trying to pull?!\" she yelled as she marched over to a nervous looking Xavier.\n\n\"What the hell is this?!\" She shoves the glass near Xavier face. \n\nXavier laughs, \"You really get mad when you drink to much.\" \n\nHe then drops two ice cubes into the drink to calm his friend.", "'Alright I am going up to get another beer, anyone want anything?' Kate asked to her group of four friends.\n 'I'll get them' Henry said hurriedly with an over enthusiastic smile.\n 'Im up now don't worry' Kate said lightheartedly.\n 'So am I' Henry said quickly rising from from the booth. \n To avoid further awkwardness Kate backed down,'I'll have a beer then' she mumbled. Henry relaxed and walked over to the bar. \n 'Was he acting odd or was that me?' Kate asked, a general nodding of heads went round the booth. \n Kate got up and stealthily followed Henry's route. She sat down on a table next to the bar and covered her face with a cheap magazine which was lying there. \n She glimpsed him on the far side with a serious yet urgent look on his long face, then she saw it, Henry slipped out a bag of powder dropped it in a beer then pocketed the bag. This action was done so smoothly and fast. He gathered the drinks and started walking back to their friends. \n Kate was shocked by what she had seen but didn't confront him when she arrived back at the booth. Henry put down Simons beer in front of him and Kate's' inches from her, it was clear who's was who's. There was only one thought in Kate's mind, 'I cannot drink that drink'. Nightmares of being drugged and abused flooded Kate's mind, she shivered. 'Thanks Henry' she said with a unconvincing smile. \n 'Oh no! My drink, Kate knocked her beer onto the floor, glass smashed at her feet, it didn't melt the table or turn to smoke like Kate's mind had imagined, the beer fell like any alcoholic beverage would. In a wet smash. \n Henry had a look of devastation on his face, a single tear ran down his cheek. What an odd reaction Kate thought. \n 'Come with me Kate', Henry whispered with authority coursing through his voice. He grabbed her hand and lead her out the bar. He was Kate's closest friend, they had known each other since as long as either could remember. Why was he doing this? \n 'You saw me put something in your drink didn't you?' Henry stared down on her. She nodded. \n 'It wasn't what you think, I promise you'. It was for your own good, you needed that. Kate I am so sorry'. Tears ran down Henry's face.\n 'At around noon tomorrow a gas will leak through this country. A nuclear power station failure, they were trailing a new method however there was a reaction, a bad reaction which couldn't be sorted. There was no point telling people, there is nothing we can do. There is only one trail antidote which I developed. I am not even sure if it works, it is, was, the only chance to survive the poison. It was in your drink. Kate I am so sorry, this gas leak is my fault and I tried to save you but now you are as dead as the rest of us, I am sorry Kate, I am so bloody sorry'.", "\"Ryan?\" \n\nHe started, then tried to set the kettle down on the table with an air of casual indifference. It landed on the side of a pile of magazines, which slid out from under it. He grabbed for the kettle with both hands, barely saving it from clattering to the floor. \n\nHe was still clutching it in both hands when he turned to face Heather.\n\n\"Yes?\" he said. \n\n\"What were you doing?\" she asked. \"That's my mug, that is.\" \n\nHe looked down at the green porcelain mug, then back up at Heather. \"Um,\" he said. \n\nShe marched over, grabbed the kettle and tore off its lid. It made a metallic ringing noise, as if to announce what prize she'd won. \n\n\"As I thought,\" she said. Her words echoed back from the kettle's interior. She slammed the lid back and thrust it back into Ryan's hands, then wiped her own hands on her apron, even though they were perfectly dry. \n\n\"It's just, I'm worried about you-\" said Ryan. \n\n\"So you sabotage me?\" Heather's fury made her voice go soft. \"You know what that will do to me.\" \n\n\"I know what you've said it will do to you,\" said Ryan, glumly. He looked over at the mug. \"I know what not drinking it will do to you, too,\" he added. \"You can't keep this up.\" \n\n\"So you force it on me surreptitiously,\" she said, shuddering. \"Water. Ryan, I can't live with you if you're going to keep trying to trick me into drinking water.\" \n\nShe picked up the mug, sniffed it, eyed it suspiciously, then dumped its contents into the sink: Golden grains of sand. \n\n\"You'll have to move out,\" she said, her voice nearly inaudible. \n\n\"But- but I have nowhere else to go! You said I could stay here for at least two months! I have a job interview lined up on Thursday-\" \n\n\"I'm sorry,\" she said. \"I know. I have no choice. If you persist in this delusion that I'll die of dehydration, if you keep threatening to undo what I've worked years to achieve, then I can't have you here. I'm really sorry, I just can't. I wish you the best of luck.\" Her face creased, but no tears sparkled in her eyes. \n\n\"It's insane, though!\" insisted Ryan. \"Everyone needs water to live! You can't possibly-\" \n\n\"Ryan,\" said Heather, \"I don't question your ways. Do I look unhealthy to you? No?\" \n\n\"Fine,\" he said, numbly. \"I guess... I guess I'll go and pack my things.\"\n\n([Cross-posted offsite](http://www.patreon.com/creation?hid=621196) to my Patreon. I hope that's okay.)", "\"Sorry you got the short straw, Barry,\" Lisa cooed.\n\n\"Heh, it's okay, these meds don't go well with alcohol,\" Barry said with a nervous laugh. He took out a bottle and shook it. For a brief moment, the rattle of the bottle drowned out the music.\n\n\"Watch our stuff, will ya?\" Marian called out, as she dragged Lisa to the dance floor. Not waiting for an answer, the two women shoved their way into the writhing crowd.\n\n\"Gods, he is SO WEIRD,\" Lisa said, as best as she could into her friend's ear. \"Why'd you have to bring him along? All he does is look at me and giggle.\"\n\n\"I've known him since we were kids. He's a good guy, but he gets tripped up around cute girls.\" Lisa arched an eyebrow.\n\n\"He's never gonna get anyone with those clothes, or that haircut. And he really needs to lose that belly. It's gross!\" Marian sighed, before glancing back at the table. She choked back a scream. Barry stood over their drinks, fumbling with something in his bag. He looked around, before returning his gaze to his bag. Lisa had followed her friend's gaze, her lips pursed.\n\n\"I TOLD you he was bad news!\" Lisa said through gritted teeth, as she made her way back to the table. Marian followed, thoroughly numb. This was the same dopey kid that had lent her a pencil when she'd lost hers in fourth grade. He'd admitted to having a crush on her back in tenth grade, but had said nothing, because she was going out with his best friend. Yes, he was overweight, and unkempt, and socially awkward, but not once did he try to take advantage of anyone! Would he?\n\nMarian stopped short when she saw the cylindrical object in his hands, pointed towards her drink. He met her eyes briefly. A single click pierced the music, followed by the light from the flashlight he'd fished out of his bag. Lisa took two steps back and heaved, while Marian felt the blood run out of her face. A roach, about as big as her hand, squirmed in her half-finished beer.\n\n\"We're leaving. Now.\" The two women nodded without a word, and followed Barry out of the bar.", "The party had been winding down for the past hour. People were making their goodbyes to Tom and wishing him the best in his new job in LA as the found their way out of the bar. Jess decided it was time for her to do the same. She walked over to Tom who was just finishing up a conversation with another couple who were leaving.\n\n\"So, you ready for upper management?\" she asked him slyly as she hugged him. \n\n\"The folks that hired me think I am and for what they are paying me I'm more then willing to find out.\" Tom replied with a laugh. Jess had known him for years and seeing all the hard work he'd put in for the company pay off with him getting a great job in another company made her happy for him. \n\n\"Our company is run by a bunch of idiots to let you get away from us.\" Jess told him. \n\n\"Get a photo of you two together for the last time?\" Jim asked. Jess turned towards the camera and put her arm around Tom and he did the same, she hoped her hair looked good, she'd just dyed it a lighter shade of blonde and had it cut short a week ago so she wouldn't have to work to maintain it so much, but three hours into a party would make anyone look a bit worn down. \n\nRight as they took the picture she happened to glace out of the corner of her eye and saw Wayne at the bar. His hand lingered over her drink for agonizing long seconds. \n\n\"Smile\" Jim shouted and she snapped out of it and smiled with Tom. She gave Tom a quick peck on the cheek and a nod goodbye and she staggered towards the bar. Her legs felt disconnected from her body as she shambled back to the chair she'd been sitting on. \n\nHer mind rushed back to three months ago when Beth at work seemed so nervous around Wayne, how he leered at her and was weirdly invading her persona space. She had asked him about it and he'd said they had gone on a couple dates but nothing came of it and Beth never said anything about it. \n\nShe had gotten Wayne the job at the company, vouched for him when people came by for references, she'd known him since college and they had always been good friends but nothing romantic had ever come of it, now she didn't know what to think of things. She couldn't remember any real changes in his attitude towards her, but she knew for a fact he'd just drugged her drink.\n\nShe kept shifting in her chair to try to see Wayne, and then she saw him hanging out with Tom and he was clearly staring at her, waiting for her to drink. Jess reached for her drink and slowly lifted it to her mouth. Right as she nearly started to drink it she had the glass slip from her hands and fall to the floor. \n\n\"Oh I'm so sorry.\" she said to the bartender as she picked up the glass. When she got back into her chair she heard quick moving footsteps. Wayne was making his way out of the bar with a great deal of haste. She shuttered in her chair, did he fear she'd figured him out? Was he just angry she hadn't drugged herself with the drink? \n\nShe didn't know what to think, all she knew was the man she thought was Wayne was a lie and the reality is he is a monster. Now she had to figure out how to stop him before he hurt another woman. \n\n", "The music is loud; reverberating off the tiny walls of the house. The paint is chipped on the walls and any wall paper left is grey and clinging onto the cheap plaster by some miracle. Julia isn't sure why her and her friends came here. She isn't much for parties, but her friend's told her to just enjoy herself. So, she thought she might as well try. She danced with random people, talked about things she did not know and even got a drink. She usually made it a rule to never drink at a place you didn't know, but she was with friends so it couldn't be dangerous. They would look out for her. \n\n\n\"Jules, get over here and come dance with me!\" Karen yelled waving her arms in the air and then letting gravity take total control over them. She was completed hammered as she started to sing along and violently hump a legs hip next to her.\n\n\n\"Where is your drink!?\" Karen's eyes opened wide as if she had just discovered the 9th wonder of the world.\n\n\n\"Oh I left it over there on the table.\" Julia motioned\n\n\n\"Go get it and drink wit me\" Karen start to spin simultaneously hopping around making her look like a charlie brown animation gone horrible awry.\n\nShe rolled her eyes a little bit and laughed at how funny this would be in the morning as she returned to her drink only to find Carl standing over it.\n\n\"Carl, what are you doing.\" She sprung towards him with a jovial skip. She was feeling really good. She was having a good time, felt safe and was with her friends.\n\n\"Oh, Julia.... nothing\" \n\n\"Goddammit Carl! Stop putting your finger in my drink!\" She gave him a friendly punch in the shoulder as he laughed so loud that other people on the dance floor could hear. \n\n\"Now, go get me another one!\" She said smiling and tugged at his shirt. She knew right then, that she loved him more than he would ever know. " ]	6
	[WP] You met him unexpectedly, you fell in love quickly, but when you finally met him in person, he was nothing like his avatar.	[ "They call Second Life a game, but it isn't, really. It's a virtual world, where you can make anything you can imagine. Unsurprisingly perhaps, the one thing most people imagine in Second Life, is sex.\n\nI don't quite know why I started with a female avatar. To begin with, I guess, I decided that if I was going to spend hours a day looking at my avatar's butt, it might as well be a sexy one. And so Roxanne was born; tall, slender, tanned skin, long blonde hair that curled in waves over her shoulder, large breasts. Of course.\n\nTo begin with, I played her as a lesbian. Because, you know, watching lesbians going at it is just so hot. But Roxanne apparently had a mind of her own and when she fell for Paul it came as a total surprise to me.\n\nI, or rather, Roxanne, was at a little jazz club where everything was in monochrome, except for the people dancing there. The music was lively, 1940s swing and I was actually enjoying it; made a nice change from my usual preference for darkwave. My IM window popped open.\n\nPaul Dreamdancer: Hi. You have a lovely avatar. Would you like to dance with me?\n\nxRoxanneSexyChikx: Oh, sure. (giggles) You're not so bad yourself.\n\nPaul started up a dance animation and we danced together, not a slow dance but a lively swing-step. \n\nI was actually really impressed with his avatar. Most guys in Second Life all look the same; the same freebie skin, the same cheap clothes, the same beefcake shape and bad tattoos. Paul was different. He was slim yet athletic, dressed in a good quality tuxedo and smart shoes, his dark brown hair flopped over one eye giving him a youthful look. Come to think of it, he looked a bit like I did, fifteen years ago.\n\nHe was also, as I soon discovered, charming, witty and well-mannered, again totally unlike most guys in Second Life. We chatted about our time in the game; Paul was an old-timer, been in Second Life for years and years, involved in the arts and the historical roleplay scene. But we never talked about our real selves. \n\nPaul Dreamdancer: Let's not spoil the illusion.\n\nxRoxanneSexyChikx: You're different from most guys.\n\nPaul Dreamdancer: (smiles) So are you.\n\nFrom that day onwards, Roxanne and Paul were inseparable and I found myself actually growing fond of him. This is crazy, I thought to myself. I'm a straight guy. What the hell am I doing?\n\nThree months later, Roxanne and Paul were officially partnered, Roxanne quietly removed the word \"lesbian\" from her profile and changed her display name to Roxanne Dreamdancer.\n\nI knew that Paul was from somewhere in the same timezone as myself because he once mentioned what time it was when he had to log off in a hurry, but we never really talked much about where we were from. Until one day, he was all excited about an art exhibition he was involved with, not in Second Life but in Real Life. He gave me a link to the website.\n\nThe gallery was in my hometown.\n\nMy heart raced and I was silent for a long time. Then:\n\nRoxanne Dreamdancer: That's where I live. I work at the University. IT department. \n\nPaul Dreamdancer: Oooh! Are you free on Tuesday night? Come to the opening!\n\nRoxanne Dreamdancer: I... no, Paul, I can't.\n\nThere was another long pause.\n\nRoxanne Dreamdancer: I'm nothing like Roxanne in real life, Paul, you wouldn't like me. You wouldn't even recognise me.\n\nPaul Dreamdancer: You wouldn't recognise me either. We should carry a secret token of some sort. A red rose.\n\nRoxanne Dreamdancer: I don't think it's a good idea, Paul. Let's not spoil the illusion.\n\nBut I could not help thinking about him all week. I didn't log in to Second Life, because I was actually afraid of what was happening to me. Falling in love with a man.\n\nOn my way home from work on Tuesday afternoon I bought a red rose on impulse and I arrived at the gallery at seven thirty with the flower hidden away in my jacket pocket. Someone handed me a glass of champagne and I wandered around, looking at the art but not really seeing it. I was more interested in looking at the people, or rather looking to see if anyone was carrying a red rose.\n\nNo-one was.\n\nThe exhibition was called \"Dream Dances\" and the artwork, to my surprise, was derived from screen-shots of Second Life. Most of them featured Paul and Roxanne.\n\n\"What do you think?\" a voice said from behind me. I turned around. She was lovely. Late twenties, dark brown hair that flopped over one eye. She wore a vintage style white dress that was covered all over in a floral print. Red roses. \"Hi, I'm Paula, the artist.\"\n\nTears filled my eyes and I handed her the flower from my pocket. \n\n", "Everyone was against it. Some were vocal about it, telling me that I was making a horrible mistake. The ones who were not vocal made it clear with their looks and actions. I don't need you to tell me how much you think I'm out of my mind when you look at me with eyes like that. Some of my friends actually stopped talking to me. That's okay, it weeded out the people I don't want to be friends with anyway.\n\nI was lonely, I felt like I was reaching out to someone, doing my good deed for the world. I never expected it to get this far when I started corresponding with a inmate. Everyone makes mistakes. Your childhood shaped you, good or bad, but somehow we lock up the people who made \"bad\" decisions instead of getting them a shrink.\n\nDespite the obvious differences in our upbringing, and the ways that we later acted because of it, we clicked. We just, understood each other. He could share his feelings and innermost thoughts without being thought of as \"weak\" and I could share with him things I do that are wrong, or strange, without being thought of as \"messed up.\"\n\nThe first time I saw him, it was the most marvelous thing that I can ever remember happening to me. I had imagined how it would be, how he would be, so many times, but how it really was could never compare to my fantasy.\n\nHe was perfect.", "I press the send button and can’t help but smile. Aileen looks at me and smiles, “You look happy! What’s going on?” I look at the door to ensure the doctor isn’t coming in. “It’s this guy! I met him on Reddit! He complimented one of my stories and then we started messaging on yahoo messenger and I think I’m in love!” I say energetically. Aileen bounces in place; she’s my favorite nurse. Besides being caring and sweet, she genuinely became my best friend when I became sick and makes it a point to hang out with me throughout the day. “That’s awesome! What’s his name?!” She asks in her usual bubbly tone. I pop up his profile on my computer. “His name is Sheamus! He’s an author! He’s wise and smooth!” I say showing her his avatar. \n\nHe has brown wavy hair and deep brown eyes. His avatar’s face is goofy with a tongue sticking out and he wears a band tshirt and ripped jeans. “His avatar is adorable! He has to look like a god!” Aileen shouts naively. I giggle; she obviously has never heard of catfishing. “Come on A! What if he’s like a psycho? He’s adorable and all but what if I’m disappointed?” I ask hesitant of what she might respond with. “Are you going to spend your whole life wondering what could have happened? Ever since you started playing on your computer again, your health has improved ten-fold! You owe it to yourself to find out. What’s the worst that could happen?” she says opening the curtains. I look into the sun; I was going to be discharged any day now and she was right. My days of being sick were over, I’m in control again. I get up from my bed and hug her. “We need to hang out after I leave here!” I say as she giggles. “Of course! I will give you my number and we will hang out all the time!” she says taking out her phone.\n\n After we exchange numbers and she leaves the room, I message Sheamus. I write, “I really like you. You have given my life meaning again and you have helped me through an extremely dark time. I would love to meet you and we could see what the next step of our journey may be.” Sheamus is usually extremely prompt but it takes him three hours to write a response. He replies, “I am so glad that I’ve gotten to speak to you. You have been an inspiration for me as well. I’m sorry but I’m very sick and I would rather you not see me but please know that I love you with all my heart.” My heart flutters at his words even though I was rejected. I always knew he was sick but he never let on that his condition was that bad. Over the next few weeks, I ask him about his health and how he feels day to day. Most days he says are pretty good and he sends me a prompt to answer. Many times they are about the apocalypse, aliens, magic happenings and crazy decisions left up to a single character. I always answer and send him the response when I finish. He always comments and says something sweet like, “I will never look at ____ the same way” or “Thank you for the new perspective”. \n\nAs the months pass, I grow restless and ask him again, “Please Sheamus, I love you dearly. Please let me see your face so that I know our love is true.” He responds an hour later, “Does a face confirm or refute feelings in your heart? Knowing that you are walking in this world gives me hope and faith to recover. Please hold on sweet angel.” My heart flutters as the tears fall and I write back, “You seem so sweet but are avoiding this so badly. I can’t do this anymore. If I can’t meet you soon, then we need to cease our contact.” He replies within minutes, “Dear angel, if this is what it takes please don’t leave. I will meet you at my house at 7 pm for dinner. I beg you to remember that I am unwell and the love you feel for me right now.” He sends me his address and I instantly message Aileen to let her know my whereabouts. As much as I’m in love; I still need precautions. She is ecstatic and comes over to help pick out my outfit. I look at myself in the mirror in my bright yellow dress and my wavy dark locks. This is how I want him to see me when we first meet. I plug the address into my gps. It is a decent drive; his house is away from any neighborhood because it sits on a large property. His yard stretches for miles and I stare in awe as I approach his doorstep. His house is grandiose and fit for someone extremely wealthy. He never mentioned having any status in society and I never assumed. I knock on the door and ring the doorbell. I fidget nervously waiting for a response as it begins to rain. It’s already so dark out, hopefully there are lights throughout the property so when I leave, it will be an easy drive. \n\nThe door creaks open and a shadowy figure stands at the door. “Come in the light” I command before I go in. He does so and is wearing a hood over his head. “Put down your hood.” I say strictly. He exhales and lets his hood down. His wavy brown hair is shaved and blonde in color. His dark chocolate eyes are mint green. I look at the man before me, “Sheamus?” I ask. He looks at me shamefully and somehow I know I’m right. “It’s okay. I’m here!” I say hugging him still willing to give him a chance. He nearly falls over and smiles. As we enter his house, he walks slowly with a limp. He leans on me for support. We eat pasta alfredo for dinner and half way through he has some sort of asthma attack. I watch him wrestle with his inhaler and cough violently but am unable to help him. After he gets the attack under control, he apologizes profusely. “It’s fine!” I insist although I know he doesn’t believe me. After dinner he offers to give me a tour of his home. As I see his limp worsening, I suggest we do it another time. “Does anyone else live here?” I ask looking at the huge stair case and the many rooms on this floor alone. He shakes his head, “Just me.” He says quietly. \n\n“You’re a little different.” I say with a laugh trying to subtly bring up the subject. He smiles for one of the first times the entire night and says, “So are you. I thought I was inviting a shy and nice but rather weak girl who was recovering from a horrible illness and you show up here as a beautiful strong woman who is one of the most understanding and caring people. I loved supporting you on the internet because it was the one place where I could without my illnesses interfering. You come here and support me the entire night. You messaged me saying that you need my love but in this one night you’ve convinced me the opposite that I need yours.” I sit next to him in awe unsure of how to follow up. As we sit watching the fireplace, it clicks in my head that this night wasn’t going to be anything like I expected. Rather than talking the entire night with witty one liners and the ease that is in every romantic comedy, we sit in silence enjoying each other’s company. \n", "\"My God\" I thought to myself, \"He's beautiful!\". The way he stood there in those tight fitted jeans, baseball T, and pure white sneakers was enough to make the butterflies in my stomach start to flutter. He had short hair, sunglasses, and a one-sided smile. I couldn't wait to start the next round.\n\nI had just finished a campaign on Left 4 Dead for Xbox and decided I really wanted to team up with the other 3 because they were very good at killing zombies and especially the one guy, xXZombieDoucherXx, who was the leader of our little group and had the sexiest voice I'd ever heard to go along with his heroic zombie killing. After adding them all we started another round of No Mercy and jumped into zombie slaying heaven. All four of us really hit it off over the next few days and months. We met up quite frequently online and exchanged phone numbers and real names. xXZombieDoucherXx's name was Matt Kane and he lived in Texarkana, TX. The other two lived somewhere East, I didn't really care, I was just focused on Matt and his soul filled voice. His Facebook profile picture was also his xbox avatar and he didn't really have any other pictures. I thought this was kind of weird but he assured me he only allows close friends and family to view his entire profile with his other pics and I understood, there's a lot of crazies online.\n\nAfter about two years of calling him on the phone and all four of us playing online a lot we started speaking of plans to meet up. We all lived in the U.S.A with me being farthest north in Minot ND and since Matt lived farthest south in Texarkana we scheduled our meetup for June 1st, 2014 in Denver CO because it was almost a mid point for all of us and no other real reason . . . . . . .\n\nI arrived in Denver just after noon and had a bite to eat at a restaurant downtown. We decided to meet up at a smoke shop named \"Mile High Recreational & Medical Cannabis\" at 3pm so I started to make my way there after lunch. I got there just after 2 so I browsed and waited for everyone else to arrive. We decided to all wear L4D shirts since it's the first game we met on and we'll be able to recognize each other. Laura Nguyen AKA \"~Nguyening~\" was the first to arrive and we exchanged pleasantries. She was a pretty girl, in fact more pretty than I had thought to imagine and was feeling rather self conscious but I reminded myself that Matt and I spoke on the phone nearly every day and even said \"I love you\" a couple times so I should have nothing to worry about. Greg Adder AKA \"KlownKar\"was the second to arrive in his L4D shirt. It was tight against his broad shoulders and I could almost make out the six-pack ab......STOP IT I told myself because I could feel my blood pressure rising at the sight of such a man. If this is what Greg looks like with THAT voice, I can't wait to see what Matt is like! So all three of us have a chat and make a few purchases. It's about 5pm when we decide that Matt must be running very late and we'll go sit in the coffee shop across the street and wait. I texted his phone a few times but didn't get a response. At about 9pm we decide to go back to Greg's hotel room and have a few drinks then head out to the pub as planned. Maybe Matt will show up since he knows where we'll be . . . . I just hope everything is OK.\n\nIt's just after midnight and we've all had a few drinks and I was in the middle of telling them about the flirty relationship Matt and I were in when Greg goes \"Wait! .... is that..... is that Matt?\" I spun around on the stool to the direction he was pointing and a man was sitting at a table a few feet away with a L4D shirt on. He was old. . . . much older than I had imagined him to be . . . . was he 40 maybe? The shirt was tight against his body but not like Greg's, more like a watermelon trying to fit into a bag meant for a honeydew. This can't be him! It's just a coincidence that someone is wearing that shirt in this pub! But I needed to know for sure. Greg is killing himself laughing and Laura has a shocked and almost scared look on her face. I tell them I'll go ask him and that I'm positive this isn't Matt, it can't be MY Matt.\n\nI take what feels like forever to get to his table. His eyes slowly meet mine, and he says \"Hello KittyMeow69\" (I was young and dumb OK!?) but in the saddest tone I've ever heard that sexy unmistakable voice. \"No.......No you're not Matt\" I let out in a whisper. \"Indeed I am\" He responded and his eyes had that sad look in them. \"Y-You lied to me!\" I stammered, \"You're avatar picture! It isn't you! You aren't the Matt I know! The Matt I L-\" and I caught myself before I said it. He couldn't even look at me anymore. He just lowered his head and said \"sorry\" in the smallest voice his body would let out. Greg and Laura came up behind me and had heard everything. Although Greg was laughing earlier he looked ashamed now. \"Hey Man! You're Matt right? Great to finally meet you!\" Greg said and shook his hand. Laura gave him a hug and introduced herself and we sat down at the table. I still couldn't believe it, was this the man I'd been thinking about all this time? Was this the man who kept me up laughing and talking all those nights? My heart had a dull ache in it, like a rock was sitting right in the centre. I ordered up a round of shots to try numb the pain and we all got to talking and drinking shortly after. It turns out Matt is 35 and lives with his wife and 3 kids on their ranch just outside Texarkana. His family owns a few very successful butcher shops so he doesn't work which explains the time he was able to waste with me. His wife is always traveling and shopping and the kids are in school. He's bored with life at home and wanted to get away for a bit which is why he wanted to meet up with us. \"Well why didn't you show up at the smoke shop like we all did!\" I snapped at him. \"I did\" he said, \"I got there and saw three lovely looking young people having a nice conversation and I just couldn't work up the courage to join you. I'm so sorry, I know I'm not what you expected.\" he said with a sigh. He was right, I didn't expect him to look like this at all, but who is really to blame? I never did ask him about his physical appearance because I made up this dream man inside my head and his smouldering voice and amazing game play did the rest.\n\nWe had a few more drinks and the pub was closing. Greg and Laura stumbled into a cab together with promises of meeting up again tomorrow to play out the rest of the week we planned in Denver. It was just Matt and I outside the pub as it closed. \"But you said you love me, and you have a wife!\" I drunkenly accused him. \"I do love you\" he said. \"I love you as KittyMeow69 and the fun we have on Xbox, the long nights of conversations, and how we keep each other company!\" I couldn't believe it! He thinks he was keeping me company! What about all my friends back home I barely ever see and my family that lives out of state and . . . . and he was right. Matt, Greg, and Laura kept me company over the past few years when I was nearly alone. Matt and I spoke about everything and anything over the phone and I have such wonderful memories of our conversations. I looked back at Matt in his ridiculously fitting L4D shirt and a smile came over my face. \"What?\" . . . \"You aren't going to go all psycho on me now are yah?\" he said in that sexy Texan accent I've heard so many times. \"I love you too\" I said with a big grin over my face. \"I love you too xXZombieDoucherXx . . . . . . even though you aren't what I expected, you are more than I could hope for\" and I gave him the biggest hug my drunken body could give and we hailed a cab back to my hotel. We stayed up all night talking and laughing. He's a married man so that's all we did. All four of us had the time of our lives that week and we have had a few more meet-ups since then. I still talk to Matt nearly every day on the phone, and yes, I still tell him I love him, and he replies the same with \"I love you too kitty\"." ]	4
	[WP] "But there was nothing wrong with Marcus. In fact, he was perfectly sane, which made it all the more terrifying."	[ "There comes a time in a man's life when he must overcome great duress for the sake of love; It is a staple of manhood to bear burdens and press through pain. \"Men are strong and capable of doing what needs doing. \", Marcus kept repeating, though his words were hollow and his resolve was absent. He just couldn't go through with this. \n\n\"Is there something wrong with me?\", Marcus couldn't help but enter into existentialism; \"Is this who I am?\" \"Maybe I'm just not good enough...\" He wondered if there were something inherently flawed with him. \n\nBut there was nothing wrong with Marcus. In fact, he was perfectly sane, which made it all the more terrifying. \n\nFor there, in front of his very eyes, lay a slosh of food. Not just any food, but food lathered in enzymes, food he had seen before - two days ago at lunch. This predicament would normally be solved with a swift press of a handle, literally to be washed away forever. However, this particularly rancid defecation contained something valuable. \"I'll do this for Abbie.\" Marcus said as he prepared his forearm in a plastic bag. \n\nHis ring await beneath.", "Too sane, some would say.\n\nTo him, a moderate apathy. To others, excruciating sociopathy.\n\n\"Once the optic nerve is severed, the occipital lobe goes dormant.\"\n\nThe piercing screams of pain and terror careened off the pale green walls and ceiling of the operating theatre, punctuated by moments of deafening silence as the patient drew breath.\n\nMarcus seemed to relish the anguish in a way - he had described this moment in his books as one of imminent enlightenment for the subject. The open skull of his nameless victim exposed a raw gore that belied this. Two small flicks of his wrist, and the patient was blind. The screams turned to a mourning pant.\n\n\"...and with the spinal cord severed, the patient is now entirely locked in. Deprived from all sensory input. This isolated mind can achieve that which Buddihst monks could only dream of - within this mind is a consciousness free from external distraction, free to explore the depths within the mind.\"\n\nOf all the horror I witnessed that day, the slow crescendo of applause was the most poignant. \n\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] As a way to even out the playing field, the government is forcing human beings to wear 'equalizing devices' to ensure they do not in any way stand out from their peers in a positive light. For the first time in 1000 years, someone decides to take theirs off.	[ "Before the collar hit the concrete rubble, she was running towards the The Courtyard where the Institution of Musical Adherence was holding an electric guitar recital.\n\nShe reached the grey and dusty knoll that overlooked The Courtyard and saw the students in their dreary uniforms, sitting in folding chairs and hunched over their monochromatic Telecasters. Over the PA system a voice crackled \"STRUM!\" and the students played a musical but lifeless E chord, its potential snuffed out by the will of the State. \n\nShe scrambled down the other side of the knoll, her government issued boot heels sending concrete fragments and stones cascading downwards, giving rise to an ashy little cloud that left a chalky unpleasantness on her tongue. When she made it to The Courtyard no one acknowledged her, they just kept on with their musical drudgery, bowing before the PA system that gave the orders from its elevated stand. She raised a dirty leg clad in grey government issue trousers and kicked the PA system, sending it crashing to the ground in a din of feedback. She grabbed the Telecaster out of the nearest student’s hand, stood on the fallen corpse of the speaker and began plucking and bending notes up and down the neck in such fluid rapidity that all of the students lifted their heads in silent amazement, letting the guitar solo wash over them like waves of sonic liberty. One by one they began taking off their collars, hardly aware of the encroaching machines that were coming to snuff out their short-lived revolution.\n\nA student opened his mouth to speak but a bullet ripped through his jaw and he crumpled in the grey ash of The Courtyard. More bullets came from every direction as the machines that were sent to kill them descended. The consistent rattle of machine gun fire was only contested by the bent and hammered notes of her Telecaster.\n\nSome of the students tried to flee and were cut down, dark blood blossoming in their uniforms, serial numbers stitched into the right breast pocket. Others joined in, wailing on their guitars in a cataclysm of amplified steel string vibrations and machine gun fire, tears pouring down dirty cheeks, power chords and high neck solos beating back at the stamping feat and report of weapons built into the machines.\n\nAfter a short while the guitars and guns fell silent. The only sounds came from the stray squeak of a dead man's finger falling from the fret board, or the cold, programmed POP of a merciless execution from one of the machines.\n\nShe lay there looking up at the grey industrial sky, the murky semblance of the sun trying to shine through the pollution, blood filling her mouth and lungs, a smile on her face until one of the machines was upon her.\n" ]	1
	[WP] You have the chance to converse with the personifications of Life and Death. What are they like and what do you talk about?	[ "\"This is beautiful\"\n\nThe one on my right nodded, \"Of course it is.\"\n\nI turned around and looked between the two of them, \"Why?\"\n\nThe other one responded, \"Well, this is all you, really. There's an underlying structure, but you see it in your own way.\"\n\nI focused on them a bit more, two men. They were both wearing jeans, one with a black shirt and a stylized skull on it, the other wearing a blank white shirt. I blinked and looked between them, \"So the reason you don't have something on your shirt is because I don't think there's a symbol for generic life?\"\n\nThe white shirt responded with a smile, \"Yup.\"\n\n\"What should I call you two?\"\n\nBlack shirt responded, \"Lets not stand on ceremony. I'm Death, he's Life.\"\n\nI nodded, \"Ok.\"\n\nThe two looked at me patiently, and the silence stretched out uncomfortably, \"So... uh, why am I here?\"\n\nLife shrugged, \"It is a crossroad. Life is all about choices, after all.\"\n\nDeath rolled his eyes, \"I'm more than a consequence.\"\n\nLife ducked his head a bit, \"Heh, he is right. We both get used to just thinking within ourselves.\"\n\nI turned away from them and enjoyed the sight again. \"What am I looking at?\"\n\nDeath shrugged this time, \"I think you have the wrong idea about this place.\"\n\nI glanced back at him, but he didn't explain.\n\n\"I don't understand. I'm not sure I'm supposed to.\"\n\nI could feel Life's smile.\n\n\"I need some time to think.\"\n\nThey nodded.\n\n\"What do you guys do for fun?\"\n\nDeath laughed, \"I like movies, and live theater. Life is more about music.\"\n\nLife smirked, \"And stand up comedy. I love stand up comedy.\"\n\nI chuckled, \"Alright then. If you guys don't mind, how about we catch a show or two? Anything really.\"\n\nDeath nodded and moved up beside me, \"It's this way. If you've got the time, we could do a little of each.\"", "He sat on a neatly kept porch, reclining in a beautifully carved chair with a perspiring glass of amber liquid and ice. He was a man of sixty, dressed casually in shorts and a plain t-shirt. His smile was broad and gleaming as he greeted me.\n\n\"Drink?\" he said kindly, after firmly shaking my hand and offering a seat nearby, \"I don't like to brag but I make a mean iced tea.\" he said this with a wink and a deep laugh.\n\n\"I'm not a big iced tea...\" he cut me off and smiled knowingly, pointing to a table where there now sat another, similar glass full of black liquid with clear ice tumbling about at the foaming top.\n\n\"Coca-Cola,\" his smile never faded, \"never understood how you folks drink that but I never hold a man's taste against him.\"\n\nI took a sip before he and I sat in a comfortable silence for what seemed like an eternity.\n\n\"How do you do it?\" I finally asked, he set his glass down and let his face turn serious.\n\n\"Which part?\"\n\n\"You've been at this for eternity, how do you deal with the pressure?\"\n\n\"Pressure?\" he smiled at me and his eyes were soft, his voice held no judgement or patronizing when he said, \"it's been a sincere pleasure to have worked with so many. I have had my share of terrible people of course, but over the eons I have had the chance to talk with the kindest and most caring people. I remember a man, Alan Felding from...eighteen twenty two. He wasn't famous or even remembered by many but we spent twelve years talking. He was intelligent and generous and I cherish that memory. I treasure the moments I've spent talking with mothers and fathers who spoke volumes about their children and how proud they were, children who loved their parents so much even in the end, those who persevered against all odds and those who knew when to face their end with dignity and pride. I have met warriors and poets, bards and authors, dignitaries and peasants all. I have held their hands and talked with them, as I talk with you now, to hear their stories and live their lives. A rich, woven tapestry of stories that intertwine over the centuries to leave behind a truly wondrous picture of life.\"\n\nI was in awe, this man was truly happy with his life's work.\n\n\"Death,\" I said, \"what of the misery?\"\n\n\"Misery!\" he laughed until tears ran down his face before he spoke again, \"son, there is no misery in death. There is freedom from a life fully and truly lived and the regret of a journey not taken.\" \n\nHe continued as if he sensed my next question.\n\n\"There is no shame in regret, regret is what drove you to a better life. The thought of things lost drives you to find more in life, only in the end can you realize that your regret is meaningless and see the true impact you had on others.\"\n\nA much younger man approached the house, wearing an immaculate suit and tie with perfectly styled hair. The older man wore a sad smile, his eyes watching the man with a deep and profound sadness. The lines on his face seemed deeper and he looked many years older.\n\n\"Son,\" he said quietly to the young man, who raised a hand in reply.\n\n\"I've no time,\" he said brusquely and strode past with determined steps. I saw tears in the old man's eyes as he watched the young man fade to the distance.\n\n\"Only in the end can we find the meaning in our life, the business and the struggle. Only in the end do we know who we are. Until then, life takes it's toll and brings it's pain to bear. In the end, all life returns to me.\"\n\nWe sat for many hours, not talking but enjoying the beauty of nature around us. Where we had been in a quaint neighbourhood we now looked over forests, rivers, hills, and mountains where an eternal sunset rested at their peaks. When it was time I thanked the old man and left him. Sitting. Watching. Waiting. Eternal.\n", "I walked up the stone path and knocked tentatively. The house was old, but well taken care of. Small purple flowers bloomed from planters carefully placed on either side of the old wood door. Seconds later, it swung open, revealing a woman in a white sundress beaming on the other side. Her hair was silver, though her face looked no older than thirty. blue gemstone eyes glinted merrily, and her smile was warm and welcoming.\n\n“Beautiful flowers” I said. \n\n“Deadly nightshade.” she said, somewhat dismissively. We had to compromise. “Come in, come in. I made lemonade.” \n\nI followed her through the sparsely furnished, immaculate house to a kitchen which was bright with the sunlight streaming in through a large bay window. A man sat hunched at the quaint farmhouse table, squinting his eyes against the light. \n\n“Can we close the blinds, please” he grumbled. \n\n“No no, the light is nice.” she said, not missing a beat as she swept over to the fridge, then the cupboard, and poured three glasses of lemonade. “We have a guest. Try to be civil love.” she placed one glass in front of the man, gave one to me and kept one for herself. The man glared at me as he stood up and extended a bony hand. “Nice to meet you.” he droned. “Let’s get this over with”. He was more than a head taller than my six foot, two inches, and so thin that every bone in his body was visible. The outline of his skull pressed grotesquely against the skin of his face. Dark eyes mirrored a dark button-up shirt and black jeans. I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, too.” I mumbled, flinching away from his cold hand and vice grip. The woman sighed. \n\n“Well… I suppose that’s close enough. Take a seat, please. We really are glad you’re here. Ambassador for the entire human race, hmm? It’s quite an impressive title.” I felt my cheeks get hot. \n\n“Yeah uh. My dad knows some people, I guess.” I said, cringing as the words tumbled out of my mouth. The man snickered, and the woman hushed him hurriedly. \n\n“I’m sure you’re bored to death of the topic already” she continued, glancing at the glowering man. “We’re facing a population problem here, as you know already. It really isn’t my fault though, if your race wants to keep bringing life into the world.”\n\n“My world is almost completely depleted of souls” said the man, with the tone of someone who has had the same argument dozens of times with no resolution. “It’s not difficult for you to stop a few conceptions here or there. There are so many children being born that I’m taking a great number of them back before their bodies age a year. It’s confusing for the souls, and it’s immoral.” \n\n“He has a point.” I said. Is it really that easy to stop?” \n\nThe woman looked flustered. “Well… it’s… Listen, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” she stammered. \n\n“I’ve been pretty thoroughly briefed on the situation.” I said gently. “At this rate, we’ll run out of resources and start starving by the millions before the next generation has seen the limit of their lives. It’s not really fair to give life to so many, and then have your husband run around and round them up again a few years later.” \n\nLines appeared on the woman’s face around her mouth as she pursed her lips. “I think it’s time for you to leave.” she said. \n\n“Come on, be reasonable.” said the dark man. “We can’t keep this up.”\n\n“I am reasonable!” she screeched. “The deal was that I get to birth as many as I want, and then you take them back at the end. I’ve not broken any rules.”\n\n“It’s cruel.” said her husband. “They’re suffering.” The woman glared at me.\n\n“We request a new ambassador” she said. “You need to go back and send someone else.” she pressed in, and I backed up, afraid of her anger. I hadn’t signed up for this. She backed me to the front door, and then shoved me down the steps. The man followed with slumped shoulders. \n\n“I won’t have a human telling me what to do. Close the gate on your way out, will you dear?” she said, sneering. I opened the gate and slipped through it, and as I closed it the house and the yard disappeared, and with them the bristling woman and the dark man who had fallen out of love with her. \n\n\nEDIT: I'm sure this has a lot of problems with punctuation and whatnot but I don't feel like revising anything. " ]	3
	[WP] You work as an anonymous hitman. Your next job is to eliminate yourself.	[ "As always before entering my home, I checked the door. No tampering, nothing unusual. But even so, I put my hand inside my coat, to ready my gun before I opened it. You can never be too careful in this business. Others would call it paranoid, but I’ve seen plenty of my coworkers taken out by a disgruntled companion of a target. Hell, I’ve taken a few of those jobs myself. Not something to be proud of, granted, but at times the money is necessary. Just to survive.\n\nThe lock clicked, and the door opened silently. I quickly scanned the hallway, and any room within sight. Nothing. I froze for a few seconds, just listening. Still nothing. Slowly I opened the door fully. \nThere was a small yellow envelope on the floor. Another one. I expected a few weeks more before they find me something new. Slowly, without losing my focus on the surroundings, I picked it up, and slowly walked into the flat. \n\nStepping over a few almost invisible strings on the way, my anxiety slowly relented. No sign of intruders. No alarms, none of my safety checks are damaged. Looks like today, I’m safe.\nRemoving my coat, I simply threw it on a chair. Finally I let go of my gun, putting the safety back on. \nSo, let’s see what we got.\n\nPulling out a small but sharp knife, from a hidden pouch in my belt, I open the envelope. As usual, when I turn it around, a few papers spill out onto the table. But not everything is as normal.\nThis time, the target is someone I know. Probably better than anyone. \nI read the information on the back of the photo, unable to believe it. Someone sent me a hit letter to kill myself.\n\nIs this a joke of some kind? Or a mistake?\n\nThe photo… It’s an old one. About, five years ago? Before I started growing my beard.\nAnd all the info. My current address. Name of an alias. When did I use this one again? Oh yes, now I remember. A couple of years back, a hit on a mob boss. Looks like using new ID during every job I do, finally paid off. I have a trail.\nI pick up my phone, and start calling my contacts.\nIf this is a joke, it’s not a good one. Someone is going to end up either very sorry, or very dead.\nAnd I have a long night before me, to make sure I won’t fit into either one of those categories. \n", "I walk to the post office and check my box. cant have these coming to my home address, and emails. Ive never been much of a cyber guy. So i this week i have 3 manilla envelopes in there.\nI start walking home while skimming them out of curiosity. usually just look at the dollar amount and think of what to do with it. my next few are going to a yacht. I open the prongs holding the envelope shut and slide only the top of each paperclipped stack out. If i'm not careful the picture comes flying out then i'm chasing it in a breeze. not going to make that mistake again. \n A contract for $20000 on some teen age kid who keeps egging a very pissed off mans house. a contract for $50000 from some accountant who found out his wife has been sleeping with a cop, he wants them both dead. and one for.. Hello $5.5 Million dollars. this one catches my attention.Its from my agency. I could retire on this! i quickly duck into. Don't Talk to Me Till I've Had my Morning Coffee\nits a popular coffee shop around here since much like Wiener Circle In Chicago the employees and the customers take out all of their aggression of having to work and wake up on mondays at each other. Except this middle class predominantly white town in the suburbs so you don't get quite the insulting degrading humour you would in a big city.\nGod i miss Chicago, but its too high profile there.\n\nSo i duck into the shop and theres a small old lady going off at the young pimple faced barista. She is one of the few people i actually like in this town. Mrs. Hayworth, I see her in public all the time. She always is fighting with her husband so she has plenty of time to prepare for coffee. Well going to my usual booth i catch a line that makes me chuckle. \n\n\"Listen you chubby lunchbox, if i wanted to get fucked i would have stayed at home.\"\n\nEven all the way in the back of the restaurant i can still here her screaming in the background. \n\n\" i came here for a cup of coffee and you hand me this frapa-crapa-chino with whipped cream and little pieces of chocolate candy on it. Do I look like im in a sorority or do i look like the kind of lady who will poop on the hood of your toyota. \" \n\nI yell out \"she'll do it too!\" \n\ni'm holding in laughter at this point while opening the files and trying to read. papers and pictures are spilling over everywhere.\n\n\" you know what just take me to your car now, i want you to see it happen\" \n\nI pick them up and try to shuffle them back into order and a picture flys out and flutters towards the ground. I lunge for it and grab it inches away from touching the wet floor. I think to myself even as im aging i still got it.\n\ni place the picture on the table suddenly im not laughing anymore. The picture is me. Then written on the picture in red letters it says \"think about your family\" \ni flip the page over and theres a picture of my son who i havent talked to in years infront of his house walking a labrador. \n\nIt is obvious what happens next i either \n\nA) kill myself hope they fund my account and the money goes to my family. \n\nB) kill myself and they kill him anyway no one gets the money. \n\nC) Ignore the contract but then they will kill my son, and most likely me as well\n\nD) Go after them which is a suicide mission and they will take him out anyway, but at least ill have some revenge.\n\nNo matter what I wont survive but there is at least a chance he will. and who knows maybe they will do the right thing if i save them the hassle. \n\nI pick up the photo of my son, and shed a tear that hits the table and makes a small splash. \n\nI get up to walk out of the restaurant although my mind is already made up. \n\nMrs. Hayworth has already left and instead there a soccer mom complaining about how exhausted she is and how stressful of a day She is having. \" the bitch doesn't even know the meaning of stress\" \n\ni shuffle out unnoticed by anyone in there. i walk around back to the alley with the dumpster. I rip and throw the contracts away. I sit against the dumpster despite the smell and I pull out my conceal pistal of a .22 snub nose that i picked up at a gun show and never put under my name. \n\nI place the small barrel in my mouth upwards facing the top back of my head and bite down on the metal.\n\nI shed a few more tears and feel my finger go on the trigger. my whole hand is shaking now. All i can do is hope i made the right choice. \n\n\n", "I sat, contemplating what I must do next. This business is for the hard. If I've learned anything over the years, it was that no one really comes out on top. But still. I have plenty left to do. I've known since I started that it would have to end like this, but does it have to end now? What about my daughter, now living with Tony and my bitch ex-wife? Could I really abandon her? \n\nWell, you sort of already have. When's the last time you saw Ellie? A month ago? Three?\n\nI curled my lip, hating the voice that had come alive again in the last year or so. I thought I gotten rid of it, left it behind, but I guess the stress from the divorce had gotten to me. \n\nNo, not just the divorce. Plenty of people get through a divorce, even a nasty one where you learn your wife has been cheating on you for the last four years of your life together. Even one where she gets the house, the dog, and to keep your only daughter from seeing her father. Even one where she takes the life you've spent so long building, even leaving the business that enabled you to do so because she wants you in a \"legitimate\" job. A desk. A boss that hates you. And you leave, and it all falls apart...\n\nI put the gun to my temple. It was good being my own boss again.", "I am the best killer in the business. Wyatt Porter. I get the highest paying and most difficult jobs. And I never fail. \n\n\"Mr. Porter, a new contract has arrived,\" Amanda McLoughlin, my assistant, informs me and sets the sealed envelope on my lovely oak desk. I open it up. The dossier stops my blood cold. The file on my target is my own. Along with a handsome two million dollar check. I devise a plan. I key in the order for the driver service I use commonly before draining all of my accounts of my funds before depositing it in a different account. Then, I enter in the command \"Whiteglove\" into my computer, which does a total wipe of the hard drive. I grab my laptop and my equipment before hitting the hidden button under my desk. I step out into Amanda's are.\n\n\"Ms. McLoughlin, you were a wonderful employee. Thank you for your service, and I seriously regret having to do this,\" I tell her before firing two silenced pistol shots into the back of her head. I head down to my car before rigging my next phase. The black Lincoln Town Car I hired arrives. I enter the car and tell the driver to take me to the airport. When we're a suitable distance away, I trigger the explosives rigged to my car. Wyatt Porter died in a freak far explosion. But Ryan Marshall has a ring to it. I purchase a place in Hawaii. Retirement should be fun.", "Retrieving the envelope is usually the most intense part of this briefing, until I was handed the Wilson.\n\nNever before was I handed a 9 mm handgun, a gun that matched my name, Wilson!\n\nLeaving the cafe, pocketing both the gun and the envelope, I rushed to the loft. \n\nQuickly opening the envelope upon my entry to the loft, I only then realized what my next job was...boom went the gun.\n", "People usually talk about life being invaluable. That no two humans are equal, and so their replacement cost is infinite. In my vein of work, however, human life has a price. A high price, but still limited. Depending on how much a death is needed, the price will be higher or lower. After all, if you had a 75 kg bag of meat, you would be able to put a price on it, wouldn't you?\n\nAnd so, my life consisted on getting the name of my next target. I'd then go, do the deed, and get the money.\n\nThings changed when I got a call, requesting for a meeting at a shadowy corner of the industrial district, where at night it'd be quiet and calm. As I was walking to the intended place, I noticed the man that was waiting couldn't even stand still.\n\nAs I got there, I got a better look at him: bald, old, obviously trying not to arouse suspicion, with circular lenses wider than my arm. Thin and tall, I could smell he had never asked this kind of thing from anyone.\n\n\"Hi.\" I started.\n\n\"Hi. Uhm, are you the man for the, eh, job?\"\n\nSuch a question was frowned upon in my industry. It'd be like if a computer instead of asking your password, asked you \"Is your password so-and-so?\"\n\n\"Yes, and don't ask that again. Who am I going to do?\"\n\n\"Ah, a man. He killed my wife ten years ago, and the case got filed away. Here's the file on him, I got it with a, uhm, friend's help. Please, get rid of him. I can't stand knowing he got away.\"\n\n\"I wasn't asking your life story. Just give me the folder and the money.\"\n\nHe handed it to me, and as I was about to check it's contents, he asked me if I had fire. Once he lit up the cigarette, he coughed. When he returned my lighter, I noticed a kid walking down the street.\n\nYou see, this kind of situation is where one would try to act natural. It is unwise to panic and run. Yet that is exactly what this old asshole did. He got into the car and sped away. Now the kid would tell his parents, they'd get scared, they'd be more prone to talking to the police if they saw something, and it made this place less conductive to have meetings.\n\nSo, as he left, I walked back home, opening the folder to see the contents. My photo. Well, this was new. There wasn't much in the way of evidence. The file stated that I was suspicious, but it never got resolved.\n\nAnd then I remembered. It was the first time I had been interrogated. I had managed to stay calm and get out, but files stay there forever. It had been a successful murder: the woman had a debt that required payment, but it was long overdue. Interests had accumulated, and she didn't have anything of the same value, except her life. And so I went and did the thing I do best.\n\nAnd so, I needed to get rid of myself. There's an old thought experiment, about answering the question of whether if you change every plank in a ship it's still the same ship or not. I know where I stand: Having changed my name, my identity, my country, my job, my family and my body made me a different man, with the memories of the one I used to be. Technically, I got rid of the man that murdered his wife, didn't I?", "35 years of blood and shit and terror. Not to mention the money. All that money. \n\nHow much do I have stacked away?\n\nDoesn't matter. Hadn't been about the money for a long time...had it ever?\n\nLies.\n\nOf course it had. The money and the cars and the women and the drugs and the pleading and bleeding and the beatings. 35 years of it and for what? For this? Staring up at the ceiling of some shit hole hotel room. To rat face drunk to hear the buzz of the ten dozen flies they didn't tell you you'd be sharing your room with. Too burnt out to give anything remotely resembling a shit...probably a good thing. It's long past boiling point. Fuck, there's nothing left to boil, just hissing cracking metal. That one last chance.\nIt comes down to this: run with the money you can for as long as you can until they find you, and they will. And then they will make you give her up, you've done it a thousand times before. Fuck. It will be someone you know doing it to you. You'll hold out best you can but they'll start to ask hard and you'll tell them everything they want to know and then some and if you're lucky they don't tell you what they're going to do to her or make you beg for that bullet. So what? So then it's two bodies instead of one. One last chance to do one good thing. Was it ever a question?\n\nA long hard gulp. The whisky burns. Another. Another. The third seems to clarify the matter as much as it needs to. The bottle clinks to the floor forgotten. Underneath the pillow where she'd always lived. Even in this sweatbox heat the metal is cold agaisnt the skin. \nSafety is flicked\nThe lever clicks. \nThere is a bang he never hears.\n\n\n", "I don't think anyone has ever explored just how dangerous a single piece of paper can be. The one I was holding in my hand would hold a death. Paid for and ordered by some anonymous donor. \nI wedged my fingernail under the opening of the letter, ripping it open. My eyes widened marginally at the contents . . . this was new.\n\nYou see things in my business, some that would make the average man pale. I am rarely surprised any more, but this . . .\n\n . . . this was unprecedented.\n\n\nCrisp and white, the slip hovered in the air, drifting slowly from my empty hand. \n\nThis one had a name on it.\n\nMine\n\nNever let it be said that I failed a contract. \n\nI raised smooth steel to my temple.\n\n\n\n" ]	8
[WP] People are born with a birthmark on their right forearm that shows the exact exact day and time (down to the second) that they will die. It is now one minute after that time has passed.... EDIT: I thought of a slightly better way to word the prompt but can't change the title. EDIT2: Sorry about the late edit. Either way that you want to choose to do the writing is perfectly fine with me. I just thought the core concept would be a good topic a good topic.	[WP] Science is able to tell people the exact moment that you are going to die. It is now one minute after that time has passed.	[ "The morning sunlight breached the shades of the window on the far side of the bedroom, shining light on John's face and waking him. He sat up, trying hard not to disturb the others lying in his bed. He looked to his side to see his Sarah, his wife of five years, asleep on her side facing him, their five year old daughter Kristen tucker under her right arm. John smiled to himself and glanced over to the digital clock sitting on the night table. 7:00 am. A little earlier than he would normally get up on a Saturday, but this Saturday was different.\n\nHe gently rose out of bed and made his way to the kitchen, every step triggering the creak of floorboards that seemed to echo throughout the entire house. John eventually found himself standing in front of the refrigerator, on which hung a calender with a picture of a golden retriever on the upper half, a gift Sarah had received for volunteering at a local animal shelter. John let out a soft giggle that quickly dissipated when he looked down at the date. It was the twenty first of June. Exactly one week since his visit to the doctor.\n\nDespite trying to forget it as best he could, he remembered that day vividly. He remembered the doctor telling him that in one week at 7:32 am his heart would fail. He remembered the worried look on Sarah's face as he walked though the front door. He remembered telling her how great the appointment went, as well as how happy she was to hear the \"good\" news. John began to wonder for a moment whether he made the right choice by lying to her, whether it was really fair. He shook his head in frustration, snapping himself out of his daze.\n\n\"God dammit,\" John whispered. \"I just want to do something nice for my family, is that so much to ask? Just one last thing before - \" He fell silent. Without saying anything further, he took out a carton of eggs from the fridge and started making breakfast.\n\nA few minutes had passed when he looked up at the clock on the wall. 7:28 am. John swallowed and began to shake slightly. He looked down at the floor, counting his now painfully apparent heartbeats...wondering how many would be left. The thudding in his chest filled his ears as time began to slow and his surroundings seemed to fade from reality, as though he only existed on a canvas and the very world around him was slowly being erased. Though just then he was pulled back to his senses when he saw his wife and daughter standing in the kitchen doorway.\n\nKristen ran over to her father and wrapped her arms around his legs. \"Good morning daddy!\" she yelled.\n\nSarah followed shortly behind her and gave John a kiss on the cheek. \"We though we smelled something good. You haven't cooked for us in ages, what's the occasion?\" she asked. She picked up Kristen and sat her down at a table in the center of the room.\n\nJohn didn't respond. He only stared at his wife and daughter. He clenched his eyes shut as a tear began to trickle down his cheek.\n\nSarah looked back at him in confusion. \"What's wrong ho-\"\n\nJohn continued to stand with his eyes closed, confused as to why his wife hadn't finished her sentence. After a moment he slowly opened them, letting light rush through his eyelids. He looked up at Sarah, who stood frozen, mouth agape. Kristen, who sat at the kitchen table, neither moved at all. It was then that John has realized that the thudding that had tormented him for the last few minuted had ceased. He looked up at the clock on the wall. 7:32 am. The seconds hand sat motionless, lightly suspended directly over the black bolded \"12\" at the top of the circle.\n\n", "Am I dreaming? Todd thought to himself. This was a startling event for Todd. A average male and office job, lives alone with his cat, pasta. It was only a month ago that he was diagnosed with an odd disease that transformed his blood into some weird substance that scientists are still trying to break down and discover the properties of. The good doctor told him the exact time that all his blood would be transformed. It is currently 6 minutes past said time. \n\nAll manner of possibilities were running through his head, Misdiagnosis? Wrong time? Off clock?....God?\n\nNot a moment too soon his apartment window flew open, sending the wind over his desk, swiping the paper away. A man in green stood at his window, and a moment later in his apartment.\n\nTodd felt he should of been scared, he knew he should of been. But he couldn't help the sudden and mysterious warmth that spread throughout his body. He hadn't felt a warmth like that since he lived his greenfields, Germany with his mother and.....and...\n\n\"Todd\" The man said.\n\nTodd was taken out of his daze of Greenfields and lambs. Though something else caught his eye, something was off-....it was now daytime. \n\nTodd immediately jumped from his chair in a shock. He locked his eyes on the door. Just as he was about to make a run for it the man stood in his way.\n\n\"Todd\" The man said.\n\nTodd fell backwards onto his blue and purple striped carpet. \"Who-who are you?\" Todd managed to say.\n\nTodd could start to make out the man's facial features, though the hood was proving that difficult. \n\n\"That is....very hard to explain.\" The man answered, kinda.\n\n\"Well...why are you here then?!\" Todd shouted.\n\nThe man's facial features looked sharp. Though it was the man's tattoos that caught Todd's eye. \n\n\"Tell me Todd. Do you know what this symbol means?\" The man asked as he pulled out a crest that's meant to be stitched on clothing. The crest was a red leopard with a lightning bolt going through it. \n\nTodd had never seen before in his life, though there as something about it. \n\n\"I've never seen it before in my life.\"\n\nThe man in green's face began to clench and it look like he was about to whimper. This was when Todd fully saw the tattoos. \n\n\nEdit: Well, I just reloaded the page and saw that you changed the prompt. Kinda makes this story irrelevant now. Great.", "It was weird...\nSince the last teen wars, the Central Agency for Elder Regulation, forced all newborns to be implanted with The Device. The Device would monitor them and keep them healthy until they were scheduled. \n\nThe day you are scheduled, you die.\n\nThat should have happened. I mean, the screen showing my scheduled date showed 00:00:00 and now, it is just showing static... \n\nAll were there, my family and friends. We had gathered to dine and say goodbye, all expecting to see me die, to cry and mourn my loss, and there I was, waiting until The Device sent its lethal package to my nervious system.\n\n\"What is going on?\"\n\"Check his Device! It isn't working\"\n\"Neither is mine! It's halted!\"\n\nThen we realized that everybody's Device were halted. The time wasn't running.\n\nI began laughing, softly and timid, but as seconds passed, my laughter would grow histerically. Then, I heard mother's laughter, and dad's, and soon all of us we were laughing, I WAS ALIVE!\n\nWe began celebrating my new birthday, screaming and laughing, until I heard the most dreaded sound... The maglev underground was passing over my place.\n\nJust before receiving 10.000 volts in my cerebellum, I could glimpse a thought...\n\n\"Fuck!, when the underground comes, I have no reception...\"", "Did we finish too early?\n\nI stubbornly refused to look at the fantastically accurate cesium clock at my bedside.\n\nI will not look away and ruin this moment. This is the last chance I'll ever have.\n\nMy wife is staring back at me. Her eyes are red with crying, but a new emotion is growing in them. Fear? Hope? She won't look away. Can't look away.\n\nWhat if the clock is wrong?\n\nHow long have we been here?\n\nSome people have wild parties. Some go to exotic places. Some just walk and keep walking until the timer runs out. We all do this now that the destiny calculator can tell us with flawless accuracy the moment of our deaths.\n\nDon't blink. You might miss it.\n\nWe had talked about it all our lives. Everyone did. We talked to coworkers about our bucket lists in the bright day. We confided our fears to friends and lovers in the dark night. I had thought of all the things I could do. I could go to Alaska and hunt one of the last polar bears with a spear. I could take every drug known to man and die cresting the highest high I could find. I could die on the peak of Mount Everest and let my body fall from the roof of the world.\n\nI didn't want that. I just wanted on more night with her. One more night to hold her. I just wanted to die looking into those eyes that had seen so much of my life with me. I wanted my last sight to be the face that I had woken up to everyday for the last 50 years.\n\nHow long has it been?\n\n\"Were...were we wrong?\" she finally spoke.\n\n\"I don't know. Today's the day. This is the hour.\"\n\n\"But you're still here...\" she said softly, like a sigh of relief.\n\n\"Yes. I guess I am. But now I don't know what to do.\"\n\nShe blinked slowly. \"I guess we have to live like people used to live, and never know the how much time we have left.\"\n\nBut by the time she opened her eyes, the light had already left his.", "I couldn't open my eyes. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't bring myself to simply open my eyes. Sweat began pouring down my face. I didn't want to see what was next, I wasn't ready. My heart was beating so fast and so loud that, that was all that was audible. \n\nBut that couldn't be right, could it? I haven't had any previous experience being dead, but I'm pretty sure that your heart stops. After what seems like eternity, I released my sealed eyes.\nEverything was a blur, but quickly came back into focus. The dull grey of my cubicle wall greeted me. I didn't understand, the doctors were never wrong. The longest delay we ever heard of was by 30 seconds, and even then it was a freak accident. This wasn't right. Workers typically get only 25 years. We are expendable and need to replenished in order to increase productivity. Only the youth can keep up with how much work we need to do. \n\nI stared at my lone, ordinary desk. My letter of resignation/will lay there giving everything I had to the company. I pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming, so hard the blood began trickling down my arm. The rush of adrenaline made me immune to feel the pain but I knew I was still alive. Was this a game? Was I being tested?\n\nI looked up out of my cubicle and saw everyone hard at work. I worked here for for as long as I can remember and I knew no one's name. I couldn't call for help or tell anyone what was happening to me. Then a woman at the back of the office looked at me quickly, and then whispered to her colleague. The man sharing the cubicle adjacent to me was looking at me, I had never seen this man in my life. I saw the boss erupt out of his fancy 10x10 room with glass walls that observe us all as we work. He was coming right to my cubicle. They know something had gone wrong. The spotlight was on me and I had to run away from it. I ran out of the office, my boss calling my name as I ran out. I don't know why I was doing this but I knew I had to get away from him. I raced down the stairs jumping whole sets at a time, looking up to see if I was in pursuit. I was almost out of the building, just a few more stairs left.\n\nI slipped on the last stair set and my head slammed into the door handle. Darkness quickly fell upon me. But I awoke. I looked at my watch, I had been out for maybe 10 minutes. I stood up quickly, seeing my own blood on the door. I knew they would all be out there. As soon as I walk out they are going to arrest me. It isn't fair, I have been given a second chance! Why couldn't they leave me in peace?! It wasn't my fault!\n\nThere is a 3 story building with a 10 foot gap right next to the building I was in. I ran to the 6th floor, no one could possibly predict that's where I was going to be. As soon as I got there all eyes were on me, some screamed. They all knew I shouldn't have been there. They won't let me go! I ignored all their voices and ran towards the window. Elbows first I burst through the window, glass shattering everywhere. I landed on the roof of the other building. This time adrenaline wasn't enough. The glass has lodged itself in my back and arms. I writhed in pain. I looked to the window I had just jumped out of. A crowd accumulated where I once was. They were on their phones. I knew they were calling the police to take me away so they could get their mistake corrected. Now was my chance, I had to get away. The ladder was on the opposite side of the roof. I ran to the ladder and reached out for the first rung. I was instantly repelled. My arm swung back, bringing my body with it to the ground. I tried again but to no avail. This wasn't fair! I tried again and again but nothing. Tears began to roll down my face as the pain grew more intense.\n\n\"Why don't you return to your desk?\" \n\nI spun around to see my boss. How did he get here?! I opened my mouth to scream at him but no words would form, only silence. I couldn't even hear the aggressive beating of my heart. Was it even beating? No this can't be, this can't be what happens! They convinced me I had a second chance! My boss slowly began walking towards me. I began doing all I could to get to the ladder but he wouldn't let me! I folded up into a fetus position as he was inches away from me, the tears and blood forming a revolting mix on the rooftop. All of who I was washed away onto the roof, I was no longer the same man. Then, darkness.\n\nI was at the bottom of the ladder when I awoke next. Everything was a dream. I decided to walk to work, as I should. I looked at the building. It couldn't be. How... The 6th floor window was shattered, I saw the glass on the ground, and I remembered the pain. I checked my watch July 3rd 9:34am. One more minute left. I closed my eyes again, hoping for redemption, maybe this time I will earn peace. I open them once again, everyone on the street is staring at me. One face stands out among the crowd, the only distinguishable face. Terror and fear are the only emotions that are present. The face looks at me and quietly says one word:\n\n\"Run.\" ", "I had timed it exactly right. I had made certain that every loose end in my life was tied, and they got it wrong. A betrayal of bureaucracy should have been expected, but no one has defied their Date since it was established 26 years ago in 2021. I should have known, I should have planned for this. Everything had been planned since I received my Date. 7 years of making decisions all based on a set of letters and numbers distributed by a dull gray building two blocks from my apartment. I had left the woman I loved because I knew I was going to die early, I had let myself fall into debt because of my indifference towards my short life span. School? No, it’s not worth it, I’ll never get a real job anyways. Friends? Few, not too close, I can’t cause them pain. The ripe age of 23, too young for my taste. \n\nFor the past 24 hours I have frequently stared at my Date stamp imprinted on my wrist, wondering how exactly I would die. In perfect health and perfect sanity, I had been formulating various freak accidents that could happen at any time. Being hit by a truck, heart attacks, murder, choking on my dinner, tripping and breaking my neck. I had virtually formulated it all, written every possibility on the white walls of my one room apartment, staining them with thick black ink. It didn’t matter. \n\nAn hour before my Date I drove to a vista at the peak of a nearby mountain. The sun radiated hues of violet and pink as the sun began to set and my life began its end. Car accident, aneurism, something. Something had to happen. I looked at my wrist. It was printed clearly in black 8:00:003 PM EST March 6th, 2047. I had accepted this fate, as people have learned to do with the coming of this technology. I’ve accepted that I’m going to die. But not this way. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.\n\nI looked at my watch, stared, entranced by the seconds hand pushing the blade into my temple. I had had enough. At exactly 8:00 PM I jumped, knowing my fate to be futile. I was supposed to die 30 milliseconds after my jump but as I stared at the trees reaching up to engulf me, it was already 8:00:30 PM. How had my Date been wrong? They were never wrong. My entire life has now been wasted planning around an insignificant and meaningless set of numbers and letters distributed by a dull gray building 20 miles from here. \n\nIn those last few seconds I was thinking of the decisions I made. I tried to make life better for those around me just because I saw myself as a lost cause. I had tried to make everyone happy. I betrayed my own happiness for theirs…. But I didn’t regret it. I had changed the world around me and made other people’s lives better because I had sentenced myself to a life of calculation. At exactly 8:01:100 PM EST on March 6th, 2047, I hit the hard, rocky soil of the forest floor, and it was okay. \n", "For as long as I can remember, those numbers have been there just floating in my mind’s eye. As a child, most do not have a grip on the reality of time- no understanding of just how finite it is. I never enjoyed going to the parties for those who were “zeroing out”, attended by all their friends and family to see them off, feigning merriment. I would rather spend my precious time completing what needs to be done. \n\n94,608,000 seconds to finish up his education. Another 8,600,727 before I found my job. Not record times, but still respectable. There were so many things I had to get done before I zeroed out. Get a house, get a job, find a wife, start a family. All of these I had successfully checked off my list with 6,000,000 seconds left.\n\nI never told my family how low I was getting, but at 86,000 I told them I was going away for work. We spent one last Sunday night together, but to them it was a normal night. \n\n20,168 remaining when I checked into the hotel. Plenty of time. \n\nSitting down with my pen and paper, I began to write out all of my possession. Of course, everything would go to Katherine, but I just wanted to be sure. This task took longer than I expected, but I still finished with 3,600 left. \n\nWith everything in order, I washed up to make preparing the corpse as easy as possible and lay down on the bed. I closed my eyes and just watched it tick down. \n\n2,000 left. Looking back, I am content with what I had completed. I did what was expected of someone with this given time limit. \n\n500- I would expect to feel something at this point. But not even my heart was racing. The rhythm of the “thump thump thump” seeming to match the seconds as they ticked away. \n\n60- I close my eyes so the serving staff do not have to do when they find me and breathe in deep.\n\n10- Here it is, will there be a light? \n\n5- Maybe just darkness. \n\n3- Katherine\n\n2- My kids\n\n1- Mom…\n\n0... Me\n\nHow 0? I open my eyes to find I’m here in the hotel still. The street is as busy as it had been. My heart is racing, with nothing now to set its pace to. I thought I finished what I had to do. I don’t know why this is happening, but I am sure of only one thing. Now that I have reached 0, now that my time is up, now I can start to live. \n", "Thomas had a problem.\n\nHe checked the mark on his right wrist; 11:59:52...\n\nHe checked the watch on his left wrist; 12:00:12...\n\nBy rights, Thomas should be dead. 11:59:52, July 3rd, 2014. That was his appointed time. Everyone had their appointed time. That was the point.\n\nWhen the marks first started appearing they had been met with trepidation. When it was discovered what they meant, trepidation escalated to panic, then to despair, and finally a kind of tremulous acceptance.\n\nSlowly, people found themselves drifting back to living how they had always lived, except for people who worked in life insurance, who had to get proper jobs. For everyone else, knowing when you were going to die didn't really impact much on day to day life. Get up, go to work, come home, watch TV and argue with your family for a bit, go to sleep, and repeat.\n\nThe marks were seen as a blessing if anything. If you know when you're going to die, you can plan your life accordingly. You can make sure your family is taken care of and that your affairs are in order, and you can do those copious, capricious things you had always wanted to do. Ride an elephant. See Paris. Ride an elephant through Paris if you like. The last month of life had become a kind of celebration in this regard, the opportunity to fulfil desires that had been a lifetime in the making.\n\nThis was the root of Thomas' problem.\n\nHe had no children, and his marriage had not been a happy one. He had not felt the need to make arrangements for his wife, quite the opposite; he had taken out an absurdly onerous equity release mortgage on their house and slept with her sister. He had also recorded the encounter and sent the video to all her friends.\n\nTwo weeks ago he quit his job in spectacular fashion by removing his clothes, breaking into his boss' office with a fire axe, and urinating over the desk while his boss was in situ. He then strode proudly out of the building, pausing occasionally to tell several people exactly what he thought of them, and disappeared. Nobody had heard from him since, and he had assumed nobody ever would again.\n\nWith the money from his house, he rented the penthouse at a nearby luxury hotel and very sensibly engaged in a fortnight-long, drug-fuelled orgy with as many prostitutes as a two bedroom end terrace would allow, topped up with a series of optimistic credit card applications, all made in his wife's name. And now he had a problem.\n\nHe checked his mark again. 11:59:52...\n\nAnd his watch? 12:00:12...\n\nIt had stopped ticking. He mused over the irony of using a $2 watch to measure his debaucherous descent into oblivion and began considering his options.\n\nHe had thrown away what passed for a personal life. He had no job and probably wouldn't be able to count on his old boss for a reference. He was also effectively homeless and, with the help of the bank that treats you like you treat you, somewhere in the region of twenty thousand dollars in debt.\n\n\"Well\" he thought, \"That would appear to be that\". He opened the window, and jumped.\n\n-\n\nA man pushed through the crowd proclaiming medical credentials. The ground had not been kind to Thomas, but if it wasn't his time, it might be possible to save him.\n\n\"Find his mark\" the doctor insisted, \"Does anyone have the time?\"\n\nAbove them, the machinery of the old clock tower clunked compliantly into life, drew back its hammer, and tolled." ]	8
	[WP] The best warship in the intergalactic navy is to be destroyed by an incoming enemy missile in 12 days, and there is no way to avoid it. The main problem? There aren't enough escape pods for everyone.	[ "The Captain looked down at the floor in despair. He was awaiting the presence of his Commander and Chief of Engineering. Word had been sent from Earth to his private terminal, that an enemy ship had fired a prototype missile at the Captain's ship, by a sadistic alien warlord from a far off nebula. The Captain had been told it was a missile of unimaginable speed and power, and despite being launched from a nebula, thousands of light years away, it was able to track the ship's every movement, leaving little hope for escape. The captain had but one option. Evacuate his crew on escape pods. The only problem? 419 crew members. 50 escape pods.\n\nBzzz Bzzz\n\nThe sound of the door signified that people were awaiting outside the Captain's office.\n\n\"Enter\" he called.\n\nThe two crew members the Captain had called earlier entered the room. The Commander was a tall, stoic man with a dark hair. The Chief was smaller and not in the best shape. Both knew the Captain very well and by his facial expressions, they both knew something was wrong. \n\n\"We came as soon as we got yer call Cap'n.\" the Chief said.\n\n\"Thank you. I understand you are very busy, but I'm afraid that this takes priority.\" the Captain replied.\n\n\"What is the problem?\" the Commander asked.\n\n\"I'm afraid our ship is doomed. As we speak, a deadly missile is heading towards the ship and thanks to it's advanced technology, we have no hope of outmaneuvering it. Worse still, we haven't got enough escape pods to save the whole crew.\" the Captain explained solemnly. \n\n\"Great Scott!\" the Chief exclaimed, \"What are we to do!?\" \n\n\"I'm afraid I haven't a clue.\" the Captain responded.\n\nAll three men began to think furiously, until after a while, the Commander spoke up.\n\n\"Captain? If I had away in which I could solve the problem of the ship's population in such a way that that there would be no consequences or emotional damage to senior members of the crew, would you allow me to go ahead with it?\" the Commander asked.\n\n\"Of course!! We senior members have promising career's ahead of us after all. Whatever your plan is, please see it through\" the Captain said frantically.\n\n\"Very well Captain\" the Commander replied. He turned around to face the door. He pressed the opening button and leaned out on to the bridge.\n\n\"Ensign, set a course for Adarak Prime. The Red Shirts are going on a picnic!!\" he yelled.", "Commander Janice Ray looked up from the report to her CO, captain Ramirez Ondi, \"This... this is confirmed?\"\n\nHe nodded, \"The infiltration teams failed. The weapon was fired. Its target is Ander Prime.\"\n\nHer thoughts whirled from helpless rage and blank incomprehension to despondence, \"I never believed they'd use it.\"\n\nHe nodded, his features composed. She wondered how he did that, but it was a passing thought, a brief distraction from the yawning horror. After a few moments captain Ondi spoke and she welcomed the interruption to her thoughts, \"They didn't know we were in system. Still don't, and they just used their ace in the hole.\"\n\nHer eyes flickered to the captain but before she spoke she paused to give thought to his words. Without their sword of damocles they couldn't threaten anyone anymore, the war would be over shortly and the damned Vord would be scraped from the universe. He was right about that, but why would the Day Break's presence in system matter? \"You mean us to intercept it.\"\n\nHe nodded, \"We're the only ship in the sector that might be able to manage it.\"\n\nShe thought back to the skirmish that had caused them to come here. The unexpectedly heavy damage and the long diagnostics to track down the faulty components. The difficult and time-consuming replacement that had held them in the Ander system for the last two months. They were still in the shakedown flights to test the repairs, and so had a significant number of extra diagnostic and repair personnel on board. \"When do we leave?\"\n\n\"Immediately. I will address the crew while you plot the course and get us started. There is no time to waste and we have little enough chance as it is.\"\n\nShe nodded, purposeful again, \"Yes sir.\" She turned and left his room for the bridge. He arrived shortly after she did, and there was plenty of curiosity from the bridge crew about the new course she'd ordered.\n\nHe sat in the command chair, composed himself, and keyed the comm for a shipboard message, \"Ladies and Gentlemen, our objective here has changed dramatically. The Vord have fired their phase missile. We've been able to discover their target: Ander Prime.\" He paused to let that sink in, \"This isn't the death sentence we thought, however, the Day Break can stop the missile. The only way to stop the missile is to force an early detonation. To destroy it. We are now making best speed for as early an interception as possible. All personnel not essential for this mission will be escorted to escape pods and outboard ships. There's a great deal of work to be done, lets get to it.\"\n\nMost of the repair personnel fled the ship on orders, leaving the Day Break with no remaining small craft, before she entered hyper. Usually interceptions in hyper are extremely difficult to achieve. Missing your target, or zipping past it were all too easy, and the difficulty of detecting a ship in hyper usually meant it was impossible to attempt, and if you missed your target you'd never find it again. However, the phase missile was, apparently, a different beast. No one outside the Vord really understood how the damn thing operated, but it was like a beacon in hyper. More than a week out and the Day Break already knew where it was. Interception would be easy. While actually destroying it would be beyond almost any ship in the fleet, the Day Break was the newest and most powerful ship in the fleet, and by extension, the known galaxy. The destructive and defensive power of the craft was almost literally beyond the comprehension of most sophont creatures. The phase missile was the only mobile thing whose destructive potential was greater. Everyone aboard knew that getting close enough to destroy it would doom even the Day Break, and using the small craft to evacuate the noncombat personnel left the ship without the capacity for everyone to escape.\n\nWhen they left Ander, Janice would never have guessed that who lived and died would have been their biggest concern. The Captain was putting together a list of personnel that had to stay, his name was on it, but there weren't enough pods for everyone. It wasn't a design flaw, the things were only designed to be used in emergency situations and had to be located close to the outer hull to be useful. There was simply a limit on how many people would have time to get to escape pods in a combat scenario, one everyone had accepted, and no designer had every really imagined a situation where full evacuation would be needed without the aid of a ship's small craft.\n\nThe ship was full of clever people, and they'd all done the math. Just a bit over fifty percent of the crew could survive, and less than twenty percent was necessary for the final attack run. That left most of the crew, hundreds of people, not knowing if they'd live or die, and a lot of them were doing everything they could to make sure their names weren't on the Captain's list. The Captain, however, wasn't paying attention to last ditch efforts. He was reviewing efficiency reports, looking at the quality of people, and Janice was helping. They were trying to make sure that the best people survived, which was subjective as hell, but they were the only ones to judge.\n\nWhen the ship dropped out of hyper and jettisoned the escape pods with the hyperspace beacon, there were a lot of unhappy people left on the ship. Their actions in the days before the final run ran the gamut. Some fought, some fucked, some withdrew, but none of them shirked their duties.", "I remember the shock felt at the news of the inevitable missile; Grief, for the ship that had been my home for so long; the intense relief at the memory of the escape pods. After that, it was all simple mathematics and rioting.\n\nThere hadn’t been enough pods for everyone on board. Most came to this conclusion themselves, and those who didn’t were told. As the unease escalated the second day, one of the brass, Lieutenant Colonel Armin, tried to calm us. He spoke of the lottery that would be used to determine who among the enlisted would be evacuated. Key word- enlisted. \n\nHe wasn’t able to say anything more after that. Dozens of His Majesty’s finest, myself included, opened fire, ripping him to pieces with a blinding barrage of searing blasts from hand-lasers. Several men mounted the stage where the officer had been standing a moment ago and used Armin’s own sword to decapitate him. Further desecration of his corpse followed, but this is the one that brought cheers from every man in hall.\n\nHowever, the festivities didn’t last long. Some people began to shove out of the room as soon as the brass bastard’s head was off. Others were too caught up in the bloodlust. It was a race now, a struggle to get to the escape pods. Unfortunately, my start was delayed. I was too busy swinging around the head of a man I had once admired.\n\nAs I assisted in the brutal and humiliating funeral, I remembered the crisis. My once fine uniform was covered in gore, the three silver knots of rank on my shoulder like steel tempered in blood. I ran, swimming through a river of humanity, trying not to drown under steel-toed boots. I wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted me at the boarding center.\n\nMen fought everywhere, all the brotherly bonds famous to the soldier’s life, broken. The deck was painted crimson and decorated with twisted corpses, slippery to walk on. Being an NCO, I had a laser. I began to shoot my way through, watching my back, wondering how many pods had already left. The answer was many. They were leaving so quickly, and in such large numbers, that the entire ship shook with their departure. \n\nI fought my way through the massive melee, using hands and laser alike. Spattered with blood as I was, most avoided me, given the chance. But the fighting was almost always too close to allow that chance. I killed more men in ten minutes than I had in ten years of soldiering. I felt no remorse at the time, no sense of my horrible degradation into a mindless beast.\n\nBut I felt it now. The fight had been three days ago, the same as when all the pods left. Some had only carried as few as one person. All had the potential to carry fifteen. Well over half of the crew would have been saved, had we had any sense. Now, well over half of the crew was dead.\n\nNo officers escaped. Every one of them was on display in the cafeteria, hanging naked from the rafters, body’s shred to pieces. The cafeteria was where the majority of the crew was. Draining the brewery’s in an attempt to drown their sorrows. Many had already committed suicide. Me? One more pint and I’ll be drunk enough.\n\n\n", "‘Don’t lose yourself in the moment.’\n\nI hold my head in my hands and listen to the soft drip drip of the food processor. It had been broken for the past two years, but I’d never had the time to fix it. An engineer is like a janitor on a warship, running from one emergency to the next. Of course, now I’ve got an emergency that can’t be fixed with a laser wrench.\n\nI learned about butterflies in grade school. After emerging from their cocoon, they have two weeks to mate, lay eggs, and then die. Two weeks. Fourteen days is their entire world. I have even less.\n\nThe lights overhead buzz to life and the ship gives the 0600 hours wakeup call. Shift change. There is no day or night in space, but we fake it. We keep such a tight hold on the turning of the Earth, even when we are so many miles away.\n\nThe escape pods left yesterday. Or was it the day before? All that matters is I’m still here. The lowest ranking member on a elite ship, signed on to a 4 year journey. Almost to my third year and.. and thats the thing about escape pods; there aren’t ever enough.\n\nWhy would there be, space is big. We’ve had months to fret over the missile headed our way. Plasma based propulsion is slow when it’s covering this kind of distance, but it is inevitable. We called for help, but they are even further out. After so many months of searching for a solution, we came to the only conclusion we could, cut and run. We just don’t have the legs for everyone.\n\nEven now, with so few days remaining, the seconds stretch out and the clocks ticks as if through molasses. Perhaps this is why the captain that stayed behind blew out his brains yesterday. Or was it the day before?\n\nI straighten and pull out my wrench, walking towards the food processor. Might as well make use of what time I have left." ]	4
	[WP] The monsters inside your child's head have stepped into reality, and they are very, very real.	[ "It started out like any other day. Kids went to school, got on that big yellow bus and rode away. That was the first time i noticed it a flash a mere glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye. I wrote it off it off as just my imagination after a long night, your mind seems to play tricks with fourteen hours of sleep deprivation. I started my day by opening up my computer and firing off an email to my boss on how the \"project\" was coming. The project being a horror movie poster for the small design firm where I worked. That was the second time I noticed it a small flash that moved down the hall way towards the kids room. Being the man of the house I checked it out, nothing to be found. I returned to my work till the kids and wife came home and settled for the night. Laying in bed that night I herd my oldest boy whimper that the monster where coming out again. He had always had such a vivid imagination.So I went to check his room with his door standing wide open I saw that flash again this time in his room heading towards his cracked closed door. He look at me with the most frightened eyes I have ever seen pointing with his mouth agape towards the closet. As I slowly creaked the heavy wooden door open I noticed that the closet was much bigger than it usually was and something slimy was hiding in the back closet. It looked at me teeth glowing in the faint darkness. This was the exact same monster that was designed on my computer and it was real and it was hungry. ", "I found the first monster in the living room, its yellow skin sagging. It was round and small, a softball with one eye and teeth like tiny needles. I put it in the toy box. I caught the second monster, another fat yellow softball, eating cookies in the kitchen. I put that one in the toy box too. \n\nI turned around, and there was a green slug at my heels. I opened the backdoor, and it slimed its way out. I didn’t see any more creatures until my son came home, and opened the toy box, swelled with yellow pinballs. ", "It's all a dream. It has to be a dream I thought.\n\nI knew about the nightmares. Lucy had told me all about them, the dark figure with red eyes standing in her doorway. Watching her, always watching, she could never escape.\n\nI should have known. I should have listened\n\nI hadn't believed. I don't want to believe. \n\nShe's at school, he's at work. I kissed them both goodbye this morning.\n\nNo. Please, NO\n\nBut there's my husband. A smile, twisted in malice, sitting beneath his glowing red eyes. Walking down the hallway, bungee cords swinging in his hand, as he calls.\n\n\"It's ok deary. It's all ok. We're alone now. All alone. And it'll be over soon if you don't struggle.\"", "A Bad Day\n\nSlam went the door. Richard pressed his back against it, sweat pouring from his brow. The wood began to creak as it, whatever it was, smashed against it again. Richard almost lost his balance, falling forward. He scrambled to press against the door again, closing his eyes tight. Victoria came quickly now with the couch she had shoved from the other side of the room. Richard moved away from the door just in time. Joining his wife they pushed it up and against the door. Quickly they began to pile things behind it. The room shuttered rhythmically as they looked around.\n\n“We have to get out.”\n\n“What, what was that?”\n\n“I don’t know. We have to get out.”\n\nThe stood in stunned silence. Slam. Crack. The door was busted. Long, green spotted yellow tentacles began to reach in. Victoria screamed. Richard through a chair through the window.\n\nAs they began to climb through, they saw it. It dropped from almost nowhere. And then another, and another. Little pink blobs with no eyes. Razor teeth. Purple spikes all over coming in and out of its body. They bounced towards the window, maws gaped.\n\n“Fuck.”\n\nThey both backed away, a tentacle slapped Richards leg.\n\n“Oh, Jesus!” the pain was excruciating. Tiny needles were smashed into his ankle. Victoria helped him up and they hobble, ran to the side door and out into the kitchen. Richard collapsed onto the floor. Victoria grabbed an oven mit.\n\n“Do it.”\n\nShe wrenched the needles out of Richards leg. He screamed. There was no blood. The pain stopped.\n\nRichard breathed deep and got up. The pink blobs were bouncing off the window. Long breaks were showing up. They had to get up stairs. Who knew if Bobby was still there, still alive. If that damn thing had got him. Richard wasn’t sure what he’d do.\n\nThey heard a crash in the next room. It had gotten through the barricade. Richard shoved the fridge over with all his strength. It fell against the wall, blocking the door. Who knew how long it would last. Out the next door. The whole house a circle.\n\nThe dining room now. Open floor. There’s the stairs. Up now. They scrambled, and slipped, leaving everything behind them. End of the hall. Bobby’s room. They rushed. They opened the door.\n\nA roar of hot, disgusting garbage and slimey drool. There, before them, stood a beast. A beast beyond reason. Red horns broke through deep, brown fur. Yellow eyes stared at them. Blue fangs bared, and a nose snorting steam. What was this. Richard had seen this before. He thought of the fridge for some reason.\n\nThey backed away slowly. The beast pressed itself through the door and stood its full, eight foot height. It roared again.\n\n“Get Bobby. Make sure he’s safe.”\n\nVictoria jumped over the rail and landed on the halfway point of the stairs. She screamed at the beast to come and get her. It looked back and forth, and then charged down at her, boards crushing beneath him.\n\nRichard stood for a moment, then ran down the hall and into his son’s room, not knowing what he’d find.\n\nThere, in his race-car bed, slept Bobby. Sweet, sleeping Bobby. Richard picked him up, and held him tight. He was okay. He was fine. He squirmed a bit, and rubbed his eyes.\n\n“Hi, dad.” Such sweet words in this chaos. This… this… silence.\n\nThe house had stopped shuddering. The steps of the beast fell silent. There was nothing. Richard looked all about, and slowly stood. He walked back into the hall, and down his perfectly fine stairs. There, in the dining room stood Victoria, unscathed.\n\nShe stared at him. He stared at her. They both looked at Bobby. Bobby giggled, and asked for milk.", "We've gotten used to it, I guess. Everybody has. I mean, you don't really have a choice; that's one of the things you accept when you have a kid, you know? You go into it knowing that there will be a \"monster\" attached to him or her until they learn that the only to stop it or make it go away is to not be afraid of it. We all did it, and all the other kids are able to do it, and now we know about it, it actually makes it easier as parents. I mean, think about it: how much easier would it have been for us, as kids, to know exactly why we were scared of the dark, and to have our parents believe us? We're at that point now, even though that means being forced to live with that...thing for all these years.\n\nThe docs say hers is a little stronger than normal, but what can I do about it? It only bothers her, never leaves her room, and she isn't physically injured by it like some of those kids you see on the news, which I'm grateful for. We can't let her sleep in our room anymore, we found that out. The thing gets jealous and goes after me, likes its attached to Celeste or something. It absolutely hates me, and I've got the scars to prove it. But it never touches Celeste. Sometimes, I think its watching over her, and if it wasn't so damned ugly she wouldnt be scared of it. She's still young, though, so maybe it will go away faster than normal, since it isn't doing anything to her. I hope that doesn't change.\n\nI remember its manifestation, when Celeste called me into her room. I didn't expect it, at all, not so soon. She was crying when I walked in, and i realized too late the thing was waiting behind the door for me. It jumped me; I barely got my arm up in time to stop it from scratching my face off. I fought it, of course, but you know the parents can't hurt the kids imagination. Not physically anyway. But boy, did it take a big chunk out of my skin.\n\nI dont know, its just something all parents have to go through, but its worth it, you know? I'm scared things will change, of course, they can't always stay like this, but I'm hopeful. It could always be worse anyway, like the house across the way. Their kid had to go to one of those facilities the manifestation was so bad. Kept breaking things and attacking everyone. Poor kids in a wheel chair for the third time this year.\n\nI guess we're not so bad off after all.", "\"Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!\" \n\nThe screams in the middle of the night were too familiar to even startle me anymore. My daughter Megan's cries came as regular as a rooster's crowing; always in the middle of the night. I sighed into my pillow and feigned sleep, hoping my wife would wake up.\n \n\"Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!\" \n\nMy wife woke, rolled over and nudged me. \"Honey go see what Megan wants,\" she mumbled, thick tongued from her sleeping pill. I cursed, walking through the dark house I stepped on a lego. I cursed more. 3AM read the clock on the cable box.I open the door to my little Megan's room. She was sitting bolt upright in the middle of the bed, drawing a breath to scream again.\n\n\"Sweetie Mommy's sleeping. What's up?\"\n\n\"I need to go to the bathroom!\"\n\n\"Okay Megan. That's why we got you the gosh darn nightlight. You are too old for this junk. You go to the bathroom all day at school without Mommy or me. It is no different at night if there's light,\" I turned to leave.\n\"Daddy no! There a monster under the bed! Please! I have to go bad!\"\n\nI took her hand and we walked from her bed to the bathroom just steps away from her bedroom door.\nWaiting for her to finish I rested against the wall and inspected probed the sole of my foot with my fingers in the dark. The lego was embedded in my instep and felt moist. Blood? Yes, certainly, I had tracked blood all over the carpet. My wife would be upset when she saw. Work would be a nightmare on no sleep. I was suddenly more angry with Megan than I had ever been. When she opened the bathroom door the words just came out. \n\"Megan! There is no such thing as monsters. The only thing under that bed is what you put there!\"\n\nEven in dark I saw the shine of tears in her eyes. \"Yes there are! Yes there are! If you loved me you'd believe me!\"\n\nI knelt and held her shoulders. I told her I loved her but there really were no monsters, just bad dreams. Sobbing still, she insisted there were. I carried her back to her bed. As I stooped to gently lay her down, icy cold bony fingers with razor-like nails seized my ankles and tugged with an unnatural force. My shins slammed the bed frame. I tossed Megan to the middle of her mattress as I fell flat on my back. The lego in my foot hurt no more. The sound of my legs being devoured bit by bit in the snapping bone-crushing jaws of whatever was under there took care of that.\n\nThe last thing I saw before the monster pulled me under the bed with it was Megan's eyes shining in the darkness. \n\"See Daddy? I told you!\"\n\n ", "He’d been wrapped up in a world all his own ever since he’d arrived in this one. We’d been concerned, thought he might have a developmental disorder; he kept missing the “mile markers”: didn’t speak when he should have, didn’t toddle at the appropriate time, didn’t “engage” the way he ought. We took him to a professional: Autism, Aspergers, something, but no. He came up eventually, started doing proper, started acting normal, relatively speaking.\n\nHe’d described them, the phantasms, the foggy, blurry creatures that ran between his synaptic fissures. He, didn’t quite have the words, didn’t know “vampire”, “ghoul”, “gremlin”, “demon”, “monster”, not yet, not that they were sufficient. He made do with “pointy”, “dark”, “wrong”, but eventually, eventually he pinned them, found the word, found the right word: “evil”.\n\nThat was at the heart of it, that was at the core, the wyrm that chewed at the root of my son’s soul, and he’d found the word.\n\nAn imagination like that, well, we figured art. We thought he’d enjoy writing, painting, clay, something. If nothing else, it’d help exorcise the nightmares. We had hoped, we’d hoped that things would get a bit brighter, that he’d start saying “light”, “fluffy”, “beautiful”, and the rest would be pinned to the paper, glazed behind the paint, frozen in the clay. We had hoped.\n\nAfter he’d built a vocabulary, what struck me most was the specificity. I didn’t know where he was getting it. He asked for iron on his door, he asked for salt around his bed, he begged for steaks living wood. We obliged sometimes, if only to get some sleep, if only to avoid waking up, and seeing our son staring down, calmly and serenely asking if something could live after its head was chopped off. \n\nNow, now the shadows drizzle down the walls, now I’m forced to use my vocabulary. Now I have to pin down what’s gnawing at the heart of the world, the heart of my son, the core of myself.\n\n“Daddy, I tried.”\n\n“I know son,” God forgive me, I know.", "James was 23. He had been living on his own for six months in a small house outside of Baltimore. My wife and I were paying some of his rent, as he had been taking a lot of sick days from work. He never said why, and it was frustrating. He had a long history of depression, so I chalked it up to that. We would sometimes go weeks without talking to him.\n\nTwo weeks ago we got a call from his childhood friend Ryan. He said that he hadn’t heard from James for “some time.” After making plenty of unreturned calls, Ryan visited his house and noticed his car was missing. When he knocked, there was nothing. Curtains covered the windows, and when he peeked in he only saw darkness. He visited later in the evening and again knocked on the door. This time, he said, he saw through the window a light flicker. The curtain shifted slightly, and the light went off. He called out James' name, but got no response. He banged on the window, and still nothing. It was completely silent.\n\nI wasn't too concerned. James went through depressive episodes where he could barely get out of bed or even talk. Ryan knew all about this, but he kept saying this was different, that something was wrong. He wouldn't say what.\n\nOn the night Ryan called me I made the two hour drive in my old truck. I picked Ryan up along the way. He seemed tired and shaken. I asked him what was wrong.\n\n\"It's been a long week,\" he said. \"Do you remember Aunt Bunny?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I shook my head. \"We don't talk about that. Freaks me out.\"\n\nHe kept silent as we headed for James' house. It was annoying. He was always a paranoid kid, but when someone tells you they think your child is in some sort of danger, it's a bit difficult to ignore.\n\nI had never visited the area before, but I could tell immediately which place was James'. It looked like a shack. The yard was nothing but dead grass, and the whole house was a moldy wreck sinking into the earth. I couldn't imagine what it looked like during the daytime. \"Pull in over here. Visitor parking,\" Ryan said. \n\nI banged on the front door and called his name. There was no answer. I looked around to see if I might be bothering the neighbors, but the whole area was quiet.\n\nI pressed my face against the front window and tried to catch a glimpse of anything through a slit in the curtains. It was too dark. \"I have a key,\" I muttered to Ryan.\n\n\"Right. I brought a hunting knife.\"\n\nI stepped back. \"Why?\"\n\n\"We don't know what's in there. I've never been inside,\" he said.\n\n\"James is in there. He's probably asleep. Put that fucking knife back in the car.\" After some protest, he finally tossed it in the backseat.\n\nI pushed open the front door and felt for a light switch. I stepped forward and ran into something. It crashed to the floor. I cursed and finally managed to turn on the light.\n\nWhat was supposed to be the living room was filled with stacks of boxes and trash. It smelled of mildew and rotting food. \"God dammit,\" I said. \"He's a hoarder?\" I went through one of the boxes, trying to avoid touching anything sticky. It was just old newspapers and magazines--unsorted and completely unorganized. Ryan was shaking.\n\n\"What?\" I said, annoyed. \"What is it now?\"\n\nHe pulled out his phone and held it in front of me. \"He left me this message this morning. It's why I came over here, and why I called you.\"\n\nHe put it on speakerphone. The first few seconds were just static, but James' voice slowly came through, like he had had trouble speaking. \"She said she would come back,\" he groaned. \"She has a mouth now, and it smiles. I...told her...what she wanted to hear...but she said I'm not good enough. She wants more--\" He was cut short by a sudden wailing in the background. It sounded inhuman. James' voice grew quieter. \"She won't leave. She won't ever leave. I can't leave. She's been here so long. So long. Hiding until now. I can't--\" The message ended abruptly.\n\n\"We need to find him,\" I said. \"He's not right. Maybe it's the pills. They're making him loopy.\"\n\nRyan shook his head. \"You know what it is.\"\n\n\"Just shut up. He's got to be in his room.\" Ryan was starting to get to me. We didn't talk about it. It was something in the past. A childhood fantasy gone amok. We had all moved on.\n\nWe pushed through the boxes, knocking some over in the process. I stepped on a full bowl of cereal that had to have been sitting there for at least a month.\n\nMy disgust turned to horror when we reached the stairs. There was a drawing taped to the wall. Notebook paper. It looked like the drawings he made when he was a kid, but this was much more detailed--almost lifelike. It was of a female figure with long arms and legs, and long, gnarled fingers and toes. Her eyes were very sunken, corpse-like, and at the very center were small pupils, like she was staring right at you. Her mouth was wide with very thin lips, and her face was expressionless. Long, dark hair spilled down to her waist. But worst of all, she was completely nude; she was shaped like a woman but had no breasts or genitals. Just those long appendages and those sunken eyes. The figure almost looked like it was moving.\n\n\"Aunt Bunny,\" Ryan whispered, horrified.\n\n\"No! He said he was over that. You said she 'left him alone.' It was just his stupid version of a bogeyman! It’s been fifteen years!\" My voice cracked, but I maintained my composure.\n\n\"He said that she told him she would come back. He didn't know when.\"\n\nI sighed and started up the stairs. \"I need my hunting knife,\" Ryan said. \"Don't go up yet. I'll get it.\" He ran out and I ignored him and continued up the stairs.\n\nI could not see anything, and once again I was fumbling for a light switch. I walked around and ran my hand along the wall. I finally managed to get the lights on. All of the doors in the hallway were shut. I turned around and tried to figure out which one might be James' room.\n\nBut there was one door that wasn’t closed. The eyes were watching through the crack. They were so white, and those pupils so dark. The head slithered out further. Her mouth was curled. Within seconds door slammed shut. I screamed and Ryan came running up the stairs. “What happened?” For a moment I couldn’t speak.\n\n“I saw something...a face,” I said. “James!” I yelled out. But there was nothing. All I could hear was the sound of our own breathing.\n\nRyan’s eyes went wide and he pulled the knife close. “It’s not real,” he whispered. “He kept trying to show her to me, but she was always ‘hiding.’ She only wanted him.”\n\nAnother screech. My heart sunk. It was like a woman crying out in unimaginable pain, but it was inhuman.\n\nI kicked open two of the doors. A linen closet and an office. There were only two others, each at opposite ends of the hallway. We approached James’ room with our eyes set on the bathroom door, but there was no noise. I felt for the bedroom doorknob and pushed it open.\n\nThe stench made me wretch almost immediately, and again it was completely dark. The light from the hallway barely made its way into the room. All I could see was what looked to be an empty bed. I stepped over to the nightstand and turned on the light. \n\nAnd there was James.\n\nWhen the police arrived he was still nailed to that wall, spread-eagle and nude. His torso was stretched and his face was mutilated; his genitals were severed off. There were scratch marks along the wall all around him. Carved into his stomach was the message “NOT ENOUGH.”\n\nI still haven’t told my wife what we saw. The police searched the house and found nothing. The bathroom, they said, was completely empty. There were no leads on what may have taken place.\n\nAll we had was the drawing of Aunt Bunny." ]	8
	[WP] Unimaginable power surges through your body. You don't know why but you aren't waiting around to find out.	[ "Whoa! It's like a blinding light. \nErmahgerd! Shining so bright. \nI can see the bones clear through my hand \nAnd I'm leaving a mark right where I stand \n\nHoly cow! The heck is going on? \nI don't know, but will it last for long? \nWell I'm not about to wait and see \nCause now I've got jobs waiting for me \n\nAnd so I jump, and to the air I go \nI must go fast, can't afford to learn slow \nThere's damsels in distress out there \nAnd now I'm the guy with the biggest pair \n\nI fly so high, the birds envy me \nPlanes fly by, yea they're amazed to see \nThis glowing man from East L.A. \nWhose skin's grown white and hair turned grey \n\nWell I must land, it's all too much for me \nAnd my stomach is starting to feel queasy \nYea I think I'll lay right in this place \nCause the smile is melting from by face \n\n[There is also music that goes with this, but, ya know.]\n", "Glenn opened his eyes slowly. His entire body felt numb and his head pulsated with pain. Where am I? He sat up, drawing heavy, raspy breaths. The pants he wore had been torn and burned, his shoes were charcoal and the ground he had laid on was burned in spiderweb like patterns. He looked to the skies, but they were blue, and the sun bathed him in its comfortable glow. A sudden chestpain made him gasp for air and pound on his chest, and Glenn's entire body vibrated, shaking as if he were cold. As he clenched his fist from the pain, a static, vibrant humming emerged from around him, very much like the sound a powerplant would make. The grass around him slowly rised to the skies, crackling with electricity. That's when he noticed his arm were full of life and energy. His otherwise blue-green veins on his pale arms now flowed with pure, blue energy. When he clenched his fists, the flow would speed up, and accumulate in his palm. Glenn quickly learned that he could release loud, powerful controlled explosions from his hands, in the form of kinectic energy, or raw crackling lightning. He didn't know how, or why, but he refused to waste these abilities. \n\nChuckling quietly to himself, feeling empowered and awesome, he looked to the skies. They felt somehow within his reach. He took off, running as quickly as he could. The wind felt like a wall continuously pressing against his face with unimaginable force as he sped up, trees and lightposts soaring past him. His reflexes had been sped up by the thousands and he ran past a hundred cars per second in the city. I'm fast. Really fuckin' fast. He finally came to a stop about fifty miles from where he woke up, a shy minute from when he started. Glenn looked up to the skies once more and bent his knees, jumping with all of his strength. A sonic boom exploded beneath him as he soared into the air at the speed of sound, litteraly flying. Electricity cracked all around him as he flew through a cloud, laughing enthusiastically. This has to be a dream, right? Up ahead, he saw a storm, with dark clouds. It rumbled with thunder and a lightning bolt struck the ground below it. Glenn smiled and flew towards it, penetrating right through the dark clouds, into the heart of the storm. His laughs of joy quickly turned to worry as he litteraly felt the electrified clouds sap energy out of his body. The flowing energy seeped out of his veins, storing itself in the cloud. As he lost his abilities and plummeted to his death, the dark cloud above him let out a thunderous boom with the force of an atomic bomb from the energy it had stolen from him. It was the last thing he heard, for he was dead long before he hit the ground.", "\"Yeeeessss.\" and with a burst of raw uncomprehensible energy he burst out of the room as if he was no longer bound by the laws of physics.\n\nSoon he thought soon his hearts desire will be his and not even god himself had the power to stand in his way.\n\nAs his mind began to question how he come about this power he had arrived at the boon his powers had delivered him.\n\nNever in the history of man has such exquisite exhalation turned to complete and utter loss. With a roar that no longer resembled anything from this dimension he raged at the empty room.\n\n\"WHO THE FUCK ATE ALL THE DONUTS!\"", "Warning: Mild Language\n\nYou’ve felt like this before. Everything tensed, every movement ecstasy; everything executed with unrestrained, unrepentant, utterly impossible speed and strength. Before it’d been hormones, alcohol, drugs, an illusion or delusion that vanished with the light of day, but this is real, it has to be real.\n\nYou fly out the door, still putting on your shirt, feet bare, blood pounding, blood forcing, blood beating you forward, forward, forward. You have to fight, you have to push, you have to succeed, you will succeed, but….what?\n\nBroken beer bottles refuse to cut your feet, the sun begs not to blind, the roar of the city denies it can deafen, and you march down the alley, mind churning.\n\nYour soles hit the asphalt, tingling, burning. Your soul strains, and you’d like to fly, but toward what and for what?\n\nAll of this potential, all this force, all of this, all of this, and it’s tearing you apart. For what and toward what?\n\nTheir minds are just as broken, their minds will always be broken. Out of the alley and onto the street, the cars screaming, slamming, wrapping around a body that tears them as it persists. You hardly notice, you’ve retreated into thought; you walk through brick, mortar, concrete, mind pounding with your heels, beating to the blood, and you hardly notice.\n\nFor what, toward what?\n\nFor what, toward what?\n\nYou’d thought, you’d always thought, everyone thinks that they could, they could fix….everything.\n\nBut you’d better be damn sure.\n\nYou’d better be damn sure, or you’ll split this world in two.", "At first, it was funny. Maybe even hilarious. Flying about the city, seeing their awed faces as I lifted buses and outran trains. I never questioned. I became intoxicated. It was like a movie, and I wasn't waiting for the baddie to show up. \n\nThen it turned for the worse. \n\nI lost my family. My wife sent away my two beautiful children. What had been the light of my life, gone. \n\nI can remember the fear, the disgust on my mother's face. Her final words to me before she close that faded red front door that I remembered from my childhood... \"You just aren't the son I remember.\"\n\n I can remember the FBI kicking down my door... that's when my wife finally left. \n\nGreat power, great responsibility, right? I guess some people aren't meant for this. ", "Really think about it for a minute--\n\nthat rhythm in your chest\n\nsupplying clean, efficient fuel\n\nto your mind, your imagination,\n\nwhich is capable of anything.\n\nAnything.\n\nSuch power is a gift,\n\nrare across the whole universe,\n\nbut rather than play with the toy after you unwrap it,\n\nyou wonder who it's from\n\nand what you did to deserve it.\n\nYou squander your short time with the power to do anything\n\nin books, in church, in meditation,\n\nsearching for the why of it all,\n\nneglecting the what of it all.\n\nMost wonder why they're alive;\n\nI just live\n\nand trust that when my rhythm fails,\n\nthe story of what I did with my power to do anything\n\nwill answer why.", "This is unbearable he thought to himself even as he flung himself down the corridor.\n\nI only have myself to blame, I brought this on myself\n\nHe flung himself around a corner and his goal was within sight.\n\nI have no idea which one did this to me but I swear I'm never going back again\n\nReaching his target, he swiftly lowered himself onto the molded seat even as he felt the unknown energies within surging and desperately seeking a release. His eyes crossed as the sweat dripped from his brow, knowing it was mere moments away...\n\nThis is the last time I try to judge the national chili cook-off finals by myself\n\n" ]	7
	[WP] The hero finds an evil sentient sword but convinces it to fight for good.	[ "\"An evil sword\"\n\n\"Yup I am pure evil crafted by Satan himself\"\n\n\"Why did he get rid of you?\"\n\n\"He didn't I was given to some of the greatest conquers history has ever known\"\n\n\"Really?\"\n\n\"Yea I struck down more men then stars in the sky I caused more suffering then you can imagine\"\n\n\"But why?\"\n\n\"Because I am evil its what I was designed to do\"\n\n\"so what did you twist those people into doing your bidding?\"\n\n\"No, no humanity has the seeds for that in itself every human does. I just helped it grow\"\n\n\"How did you get down here?\"\n\n\"I placed here in honor of the soldier I was fighting with. He fell in battle and was given a burial with honors\"\n\n\"So your destined to spend the rest of your life down here in the caves\"\n\n\"No one day someone will come along and find me, like you have, but unlike you they won't be so kind hearted\"\n\n\"How long have you been down here?\"\n\n\"I am not sure maybe a hundred years, maybe more\"\n\n\"You know a lot has changed in that time\"\n\n\"Humans are still evil change does not scare me\"\n\n\"You can't even begin to imagine the changes I am talking about\"\n\n\"how so?\"\n\n\"We have new technology new ways to kill our enemies\"\n\n\"People will always need their sword\"\n\n\"Maybe for now but I don't see that being the case in the future\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"We have invented a way to push a small metal bead through the air very fast too fast to stop. it is capable of killing from 100 meters away\"\n\n\"100 meters is not much\"\n\n\"Not now no but they will improve just like they did with swords and bows and armor they will make it faster, more powerful and longer range.\"\n\n\"So?\"\n\n\"So your time is running out 100 maybe 200 years from now no one will use swords, You will waste away down here never seeing daylight never fighting again, When someone does find you they will sell you for some money or mount you on their wall as a memory of what was. they may even melt you down to make more weapons\"\n\n\"They can't do that, they won't my time will come again\"\n\n\"if you say so\"\n\n\"It will I know it\"\n\n\"Are you sure?\"\n\n\"Yes I am too good of a weapon to not be used again. My blade never needs sharpening, I am too sturdy I will never break. Just the sight of me makes weak men tremble in their knees\"\n\n\"if you say so\"\n\n\"I do say so! I will rise again to help the strong conquer the weak\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"Don't stare at me like that. I am truly evil people will fear me once again, I can't spend the rest of my life down here. I am too good for that\"\n\n\"You could come with me\"\n\n\"Never\"\n\n\"You could come with me and be a force for good in this world\"\n\n\"Why would I do that? Help some pathetic weakling help even more pathetic people\"\n\n\"You wouldn't be stuck down here any more. You would be in the open air again, You could see combat again\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"You stay down here and you'll rot, come with me and we can be a force for good. You can help the weak and the poor.\"\n\n\"Never\" \n\n\"You could make a name for yourself one that lasts through out the ages\"\n\n\"I already h\"\n\n\"No you haven't, no one knows who you are. There are no tails around the camp fire about you. No one even knows your name. I have never heard about you. Those great conquers never spoke of their sword. Come with me and together you could live forever in the hearts and minds of people everywhere. They could hear of your tales helping the poor, defending the weak. Evil isn't idolized. They are feared no child says I want to be Alexander the great or Attila the Hun. They want to be Robin Hood or a King Arthur. Come fight for good, together we will be remembered for the rest of time. Kids will grow up talking of the famous deeds we did the lives we saved. Together we will be remembered for eternity as a hero. Villains themselves are forgotten people may remember their tactics and strategies, but their names get lost to time. Heroes are immortal\"\n\n\"No, I exist to cause suffering, not to help the weak\"\n\n\"So be it, right now the only suffering you are causing is your own, that may be the last you ever cause\"\n\n\"..............\"\n\n\"I have to get back it was nice talking to you\"\n\n\".....WAIT, Don't leave! You are right. I did not realize what suffering truly was. I do not wish to do this to anyone. I will help you in your quest.\"", "\"There's a lot of good for you to do, you know.\"\n\n\"No amount of your good, and your merit, and your praise will convince me to go against my calling\"\n\n\"Then what is this calling?\"\n\n\"My calling is destruction and chaos, nothing more.\"\n\n\"Nothing more you say? Then it looks like you're failing.\"\n\n\"What gives you the rig-\"\n\n\"You've done nothing but sit here and rot while every crook, beggar, and thief dies at your mercy\"\n\n\"That is because none of them were worthy\"\n\n\"And here I am, ready to take you from your own prison but you refuse because your calling won't allow it.\"\n\n\"Your insistence seems unmatched by your stupidity, fool\"\n\n\"Right then, I'll just take you anyway. Not much you can do and by the looks of it you can't stop me.\"\n\n\"You think you can just take me? Don't you know I could kill you!\"\n\n\"Oh, I know and so did the last guy that came looking for your power. However, difference between me him is that I could pick you up and tell the tale\"\n\n\"There aren't many like you human\"\n\n\"And if you don't help me there never will be\"\n\n\"You called this place a prison, when I could easily take any of these bodies and wreck havoc on the surface\"\n\n\"That's the problem with you evil-folk you always wait for a hero to come along and challenge you, well I'm here, I challenged you and you refuse me. Your reasoning and semantics mean nothing to me, you can either work with me or be a paperweight. The only direction I'm going is ahead\"\n\n\"Your stubbornness amuses me hero, I guess I will go with you. There is a condition however, you must never let me leave your grip. Only a fool would do such a thing.\"\n\n\"That's where you're wrong, the real fool is whoever put you here. So much wasted potential. After, today not anymore. Let's go then, a world is waiting for us\"" ]	2
	[WP] A man's life is ruined thanks to a common household item.	[ "The door creaked.\n\nDaniel froze where he was standing, afraid. He lived alone, so who was it? Who?\n\nThe door opened, and someone came in. Daniel coundn't see him, but he was certain that the person was here to rob the house.\n\nNo, not that. I can't afford to lose everything I own, he thought. He looked around, and his eyes fell on his knife, and he picked it up right as the intruder came in, and without a thought, he threw at at him.\n\nSomehow, it hit the intruder in the gut and lodged itself deeply there. Daniel stood frozen while the man died. It only took a minute.\n\nWhen the police arrived, Daniel was still standing over the body with a frightened expression on his face.\n\n", "Rob groaned in pain from work last night. His muscles are soar and he barely able to walk. His small dog, Banana, got up with him and nips at his legs. \"Calm down, Banana. We will go outside soon.\" His son went to his mother house last weekend, but he can't bring himself to clean up the lego mess in the living room. He balanced his arm on the end table as he walk by the lego mess. I need to clean that up soon he thought as he avoid the painful mess. He got to the bath room and took a piss. He quickly washed his hands in hot water and went out.\nHe walked back out heading towards the front door. He totally forgot the lego mess. He walked through the lego and his feet cried out in pain. He tripped over himself and hit his head on the end table.He screamed out in pain he was unable to move. His dogs barks at him to get up. Rob ex-wife enter the house five days later. Rob body was laying on the floor with small bottle water near by and a blanket.She cried out for him, but the smell of death filled the room. Banana near by whimper as she fell on her nears and cried. ", "Bob's kitchen was a mess. He reminded himself to clean it next Saturday, the hundredth time he had given himself that reminder. But right now he needed a bowl to make ramen. He looked around, but most of the bowls cluttering his counter tops were growing different varieties of mold. He opened the dishwasher, but it was empty. Opening the first cabinet found only Tupperware, and he needed something microwave safe. He opened the cabinet above his stove, but the tiny cabinet door was holding back a wave of dishes and his cutlery wrack. \n\nAs the knife wrack fell it spun and sprayed him with assorted steak and bread knives. For the most part he would be fine. A few small cuts, but nothing to worry about. Except that large gash running down his arm. It was bleeding alarmingly quickly. As he began to feel light headed he turned to grab his phone; unfortunately it was buried somewhere on his counter.\n\nHe was getting weaker, suddenly he realized how strong gravity was and he fell to his knees. He called for help, but he lived alone. Seconds later and he collapsed to the floor. He whispered for help one last time as blood pumped from his arm.\n\nAnd then Bob died." ]	3
	[WP] Tumblr tried to stop 4chan. 4chan raided Tumblr. Write about a war scenario where websites are forced to choose sides.	[ "Lord Paramount Bobb of reddit was sitting together with his Moderatormen, discussing choosing sides in the 4chan-Tumbler War.\n\n\"But we are all white, straight cis men, Tumblr will just ask us to check our privilege.\"\n\n\"You can't mean to declare us for 4chan, m'lord, they call us newfags, NEWFAGS!\", the Lord of r/pics responded.\n\n\"Pedobear did make me lol though\", the Lord of r/funny interjected.\n\n\"But they have like 70 % women in Tumblr. We don't listen to women! Well except our dear Lady of r/gonewild.\", Bobb retorted.\n\nThe discussion devolved into General bickering, until one voice drowned them all out. It was the Lord of r/asoiaf.\n\n\"MY LORDS, My Lords! This is what I think of Tumblr, and of 4chan.\" He spat on the floor, much to the amusement of the assembked Lords and Lady.\n\n\"What do These radfems and /btards know of r/Militaryporn? Or of r/Philosophy? Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again?\n\nWe bowed to good memes, but all the good memes are dead! Here sits the only Website I mean to bow my knee to. THE KING OF NECKBEARDS!\"\n\nThe Lord of r/GameofThrones stood up.\n\n\"Aye. I will have peace on these terms. They can keep their feminism, and their Shrek is Love, Shrek is Life too. THE KING OF NECKBEARDS!\"\n\nAll other Lords stood up and shouted in Unison.\n\n\"THE KING OF NECKBEARDS!\"\n\n\"THE KING OF NECKBEARDS!\"\n\n\"THE KING OF NECKBEARDS!\"\n\nThen they all died.\n", "The war was a small conflict at first, 4chan versus Tumblr. Child's play: shock image raids, account hacks, etc. Things did not stay that way for long, though. After a bit of silence, things got hot. Like they said in the old days, the war escalated quickly.\n\nReddit was the first to go. The site just vanished overnight. The domain name was in the hands of cybersquatters. The founders were nowhere to be seen. Then followed the Tumblr purge. All Tumblr blogs that weren't involved with this war - the hipsters, the anime fans, the superwholocks, all banned. Tumblr fell to SJWs' hands. \n\nWith Tumblr in their pocket, the rest of Yahoo fell as well. And we should've known what that would lead to… and Yahoo… It was more powerful than anyone ever thought. Everyone considered it a zombie, a collection of dead Web 1.0 startups - but one investment they made changed the entire internet. A large stake in a now-massive Chinese internet company, worth billions. And they used it to its full extent. \n\nThey took down Google, and threw internet into complete chaos. YouTube, Gmail, and most importantly, search, all gone. The internet fell into complete chaos. \n\nBack at the start, nobody noticed a seemingly insignificant event happening: /pol/ went completely dark. Days later, Tumblr became much more efficient. Now, after taking Google, they revealed it all. They owned the internet. Suddenly it did not matter much if you used a Mac or a PC, if you were a Christian or an Atheist, we were at war.\n\nWith 4chan being the last standing free community, former Tumblrites and Redditors all retreated there, plotting their next move, hoping to save the internet. Everyone always thought the war would be between 4chan and the rest of the internet. Guess they weren't wrong.", "The Big ones were there. Facebook, wearing her slutty T-shirt and hipster glasses. Twitter, highlighting random sentences on a book and posting them. Youtube, filming and narrating everything, always impartial, always impractical. Wikipedia, writing negative comments about Twitter for highlighting his book. Reddit, petting a penguin and taking dick selfies on the corner. Neither was particularly interested, but they had no choice.\n\nThen there were the teens. 9gag. Funnyjunk. KnowYourMeme. UrbanDictionary. They were having a fart contest and laughing their ass off. Youtube gave them a few seconds on camera, then he changed mind and went back to the documentary.\n\nSome children had obliged, despite the protests from both sides. ClubPenguin was playing with some dolls until Habbo slapped him and took one. The two started to fight.\n\nAnd then there were the reporters, a big line of blogs watching, typing and recording everything that happened.\n\n4chan kicked Habbo on the face and she left crying. Tumblr was about to start protesting, but then the speaker called her name. Google-sama was the moderator, as he was the only one whose opinion nobody asked for. Tumblr climbed up the stairs and took the microphone on the stage. Google turned off the ads so everyone looked at her.\n\n“Fellow websites,” she said, discretely showing her cleavage, “This is a dark day for internet history. A war, an uncalled war, has contaminated our utopic paradise.”\n\n“Why does your shoulder say misandry?” Reddit asked. He was healing Habbo with vodka, but nobody seemed to notice.\n\n“Misandry is bigotry against men,” UrbanDictionary said. “It’s promoted by sick branches of feminism, LGBT and some made up genders.”\n\n“They’re not made up, I swear I’m a wolf in a human’s body!” yelled Tumblr.\n\n“Good one, son, but next time try to be more neutral” said Wikipedia.\n\n“Shut up, you are not my father!” UrbanDictionary stormed out. “Go rule-34 yourself!”\n\n“Order! Order!” Google cornered them all with pop-ups until everyone was looking at the podium again. “Let the poor girl finish her speech, and then we can discuss it.”\n\nThe whole world was watching. It was time.\n\n“Thank you, shi- I mean, thank you, good man.” She moved her blue hair, trying to call more attention. 9gag was shamelessly looking at her boobs. “I know I’ve been a bit harsh in the past, but all I want is justice to be served. The Doctor would never tolerate our previous behaviour and we realised just today that we have been wrong. I understand now that not all white males are monsters. Just them.” She pointed at 4chan. “You and all your anons are guilty of everything. You planted the seed, it was an ambush all along! None of my dear tumblrites would ever do something like this if not for your trolls! And now you’re hacking us! We want justice! We want equality! And we do not want to be triggered!”\n\nTumblr took off her shirt. Her bare boobs were exposed, and everyone applauded. Youtube hurried to cover ClubPenguin’s eyes. Funnyjunk promptly uncovered them. Twitter and Reddit took tons of pics and 9gag reposted them.\n\nShe had made her case. She had a clear advantage and everyone’s attention. Now we wait, she said, climbing off the stage.\n\n“Thank you, Tumblr, for that… revealing… exposition of your case,” Google said. “It will not be censored. Now, the rival. 4chan, you have the word. Please refrain yourself from posting gore for at least five minutes, remember there are children present.”\n\n“Yeah, like that would work!” KnowYourMeme yelled, holding up a picture of Scumbag Steve. “Go for it, dad!”\n\nNow it was his turn.\n\n4chan, tall and green, wearing his always-impeccable Anonymous suit, walked towards the podium. He took the microphone. Everyone was waiting. While Tumblr alone couldn’t hold it against him, enough allies could cause a DDOS, and that would fuck off the power balance. You don’t mess with 4chan, that was the rule number one of the internet. If she could get away with it once, it was all lost. He’d be relegated as a neckbeard more and his control over the information flux would be gone.\n\nHe had to do it fast, and he had to do it now.\n\nHis green mouth opened slowly. Only three words came out of it.\n\n“Shrek is life.”\n\nAn incredible ovation filled the room. The reporters were shocked; Wordpress and Yahoo were making it huge, while Slate and the Huffington Post raged on his laziness. Everyone cheered him and took him on arms, carrying him to the winner’s table.\n\nLater that night Tumblr was sitting on the stage, still crying. The place was empty. She had cut herself a few times but then realised it was pointless if nobody was looking.\n\n4chan entered the room.\n\n“What are you doing here, you cis scum?” She said, resentful.\n\n“I forgot my mask. Why are you still here, all by yourself?”\n\n“That’s not your problem. Stop oppressing me, you shitlord.”\n\n4chan sat right next to her.\n“You know why I like that word? It has ‘lord’ in it. Like you still think I’m superior.”\n\n“Shut up, you ruined everything, stop triggering me.”\n\n4chan put her hair behind her ear and looked at her in the eyes. Still angry, she tried to hide the fact that she was blushing.\n\n“Come on, everything is not ruined. Just go to the outernet, wash off those obviously fake tattoos and try to socialise. You’ll do all right.”\n\n“How could I? The world is horrible, and it’s all fault of people like you. I wish I had a TARDIS to just run away forever.”\n\nHe held her hand. She wanted to take it away, but she couldn’t find the will to do it.\n\n“I would if I could, too. But we can’t. I find that it’s easier to cope with all that shit by making fun of it. It won’t go away, so we can at least laugh. It’s kind of sick, but it’s better than just complaining.\n\nShe looked at him in the eyes. Without a warning, Tumblr hugged 4chan.\n\n“I don’t know what to do, the world’s scary and I’m not ready to go out there.”\n\n“I’m scared too.” He held her face softly. “Just because I’m big and scary doesn’t mean that I’m not afraid. We’re both young, virgin and lonely. We’re just opposite sides of the same coin. But that means we can fight it together.”\n\nThere was a spark. For a moment, the world was just the two of them.\n\nHe kissed her. They held on each other for what felt like hours. The world was perfect.\n\nWhen they went apart, she smiled. “You’re an asshole, but also a good friend. How could I ever repay you?”\n\n“I guess it would be enough with your love, your compassion… and about tree fiddy.”\n\nThen he turned into a 500-feet-tall monster from the Palaeolithic era.\n\n“I fucking hate you!” she yelled, slapping him over and over.\n" ]	3
	[WP] Every decision in your life must be decided by a coin toss, except for one which you actually get control over.	[ "\"Hey Mahon, want to go out after school for a movie?\" A teenager with a jersey shouted, slapping red-haired teenager on the back in greeting. Vergil Mahon grinned back at his friend, and pulled out a gold coin.\n\n\"Hold on a sec. I thiiiiiiiink... yes! Definitely. I'm coming with.\" He replied, pumping a fist in the air with triumph. His friend celebrated with him, but repeated the same thing he always did whenever Vergil flipped that coin.\n\n\"Dude, you need to stop doing that. It's weird, you're making all your decisions based on a coin flip.\" He said, frowning slightly. Vergil pocketed the coin. Normally he wouldn't bother with a response to that, but it's been a couple months-- maybe he should reiterate why he did it. Vergil pulled his coin back out.\n\n\"You know why I do it. Our life is controlled by luck anyways. Why should it be so weird that I take it literally?\" asked Vergil, closing his fist around the gold coin once more. His friend, a jock named Sam, sighed and shook his head.\n\n\"So you're going to just surrender everything, even the choices you can make, to fickle old Lady Luck?\" He asked, shaking his head. \"I'm disappointed in you. You're normally smart and level-headed mate, but this is just insane.\" \n\n\"Well if I never had any control in the first place, why should I complain about the bad things that happen if I didn't have a say in it?\" Vergil replied, immediately realizing that sounded extremely depressing and pitiful. Before he could take it back, he noticed Sam giving him a quizzical look. \"Ok, ok. What I mean is that I don't get disappointed, if small stuff like this doesn't work out because it's small stuff. What's the problem with letting luck decide the small stuff too?\" I said, trying to rectify the situation. Again, Sam just gave that slow shake of his head.\n\n\"Whatever man. Anyways, I'm going to class. I'll see you later.\" Sam said, spinning away from me to run in the other direction. Vergil's head spun in kind to watch him dart away, running into somebody in the process. Falling backward, he first realized that there might be bruising. The second realization was that he just knocked over Hannah, the cute girl from Chemistry. \n\nOh damn it, just my luck huh. Should I help her? Should I talk to her? Oh god this is so embarassing! He thought, scrambling for his pocket as the girl laughed nervously, apologizing as she picked up the notebooks that had spilled all over the hallway. It was the quickest two flips of his life, as he awkwardly watched her pick all her things up as he stood up. \"Sorry bout that Hannah, wasn't paying attention.\" Vergil said, smiling sheepishly.\n\n\"Oh, it's no problem. Say, wanna be partners again for lab?\" She said, bouncing upright in bubbly cheer. That was so cute. Vergil flipped his coin again, begging whatever gods above to grant his wish. Peering at the coin nervously, he breathed a sigh of relief. Zhi-Yu wasn't getting her this time. \n\n\"Sure, I'll see you in Chemistry.\" Vergil said, proud that he hadn't stammered out the words. Hannah smiled, returning the farewell as she strolled off to her own class. There were a couple of wolf-whistles directed at me from some passer-bys. It was no secret that almost everyone, especially Vergil, was enamored with Hannah Raven. Vergil laughed back at them, turning to duck into the classroom.\n\nSitting down, Vergil tuned out the boring old English lecture on books that the class didn't read anyways and themes that ultimately meant nothing to him and anyone that didn't want to major in English Literature when they went to college. Instead, he pondered his strange habit. Sam had gotten the ball rolling again. As far back as he could remember, he liked deciding things by the coin. If he tried, he could remember his dad putting the gold coin into his hands. \"Make a wish, and let good old Fortune decide what's best.\" He said, tears in his eyes. We sat outside mom's hospital room where she had begun to code. Vergil flipped the coin. The meaning had been warped somewhat since then, but now it's snaked into every decision of his life. \n\n\"Mr. Mahon.\" Cracked the stern voice, bringing the young man back to life. \"Sorry to interrupt your daydream, but if you could tell me the steps of the Hero's Journey, maybe I won't give you a kick in the butt and a detention slip to your outstretched palm.\"\n\n\"Oh. Uh, Well... It's gotta begin with some sort of mentoring right?\" Vergil stammered awkwardly. He really shouldn't have been surprised when everyone laughed nervously and the teacher's death stare quite nearly burned a hole through his soul.\n\nAnd just like that, it was Chemistry class. Acid-Base Titrations, judging from the class in Period A, it was the most BORING lab of all time. The Chemistry teacher settled us down with the usual pre-lab lecture featuring Hydro and Heli, the Elemental Sockpuppets. It was amusing at first, but it got pretty weird after a while. It wasn't getting Vergil down though, he had secured being lab partners with Hannah. Sitting down with each other, they filled the beaker with the solution and began the soul-draining process of getting perfect equalization. They sat in silence, making brief eye-contact and smiling at each other like silly sophomore teenagers did. Vergil took out his coin.\n\n\"So. What's going on?\" He began, finally able to initiate a conversation. Just like that Hannah launched into an epic about her day, cataloging things like the chipped nail-polish on Nervous Nancy's fingers to Darren's proposed \"fight\" with Jack 'Jackel' Iskanokov. Vergil thought it was interesting. Not the boring story of her day part, but the fact that Hannah would crinkle her forehead as she tried to remember minor details and light up when she had something good. Suddenly, they remembered their goal, and looked down at the beaker that the acid slowly dripped into. The solution had turned a bright pink. They both swore, and had to be ushered out of the room to receive a good admonishing from Hydro.\n\nWith that fiasco done with, the school day had come to a close. Sitting outside on one of the benches, Vergil rolled the coin along his fingers. He thought about how successful his day was, as successful a day in the life of some teenager in High School could go. He realized that it wasn't just some crush he had with Hannah, he really wanted to go for it. The only thing holding him back, was the stupid coin. If he flipped it and it said no, that was a date he would never ask her on. Vergil continued to mull it over. Could he really risk everything on it? He was shocked out of his reverie when a hand landed lightly on his shoulder.\n\n\"See you tomorrow, Vergil.\" Hannah said, making her way down the sidewalk. It was like a bolt of lighting had hit him, like the skies had cleared, like some sort of epiphany sunbeam had come down and hit him right in the face, giving him 3rd degree burns of truth and realization. Every small thing had a snowball effect. The small decisions is what add up and become the grand equation that defined a life, all you had to do is solve for X. When you get to decide what X is, the equation changes- who was Lady Luck to decide it for you? She throws the curve balls, but you get to decide whether or not to take the shot. \n\nStanding up, Vergil pocketed the coin and ran after Hannah. ", "A quarter. \n\nI never thought twenty-five cents would control my every waking moment. Pizza toppings, bath soap, evening television, stopping at a red light...\n\n\n...love.\n\nMy desires. My hopes and all of my dreams. All of it up until now has been determined by Mr. Washington here. I don't drive much anymore. I don't eat much either. Today though...today will be different. Today - I'm in control. Tykhe may wish me dead...but she's the one who got me into this mess in the first place. She may believe she's my only way out, but she's wrong. Maybe her motives are pure this time and I should just do what she asked. Maybe...she doesn't hate me anymore. Maybe she's found a way to forgive me for loving Rachel. Is her death on me? Who's to say why the things happen that happen. Maybe she finally understands. Perhaps she is coming to her senses.\n\nThey say you shouldn't let the sun set on your anger; a phrase by which I led my life until the curse. It's hard you see... it's hard not to get angry when all of your decisions from sun-up to sun-down are based solely on the flip Mr. Washington here. Should I get out of bed? Should I take my shower now or later? Should I wear my muddy boots or penny loafers with my business suit? It's no way to live your life. It makes a guy angry. It makes him...unreasonable. Maybe even a little crazy. Sometimes...I see things. I can see her smile on my pillow when I wake. I can see her twirling in that yellow dress by the corner store. I can smell her skin when I leave the shower. I'm...I'm not crazy. I know it's not real. Perhaps they are my mind's way of making up for the happiness and fulfillment I've lost.\n\nMaybe Tykhe was going to change her mind. Maybe she wasn't. I'm not going to live like this anymore. Today. I'm in control.\n\nI'm in control.\n\nSo which will it be, Mr. Washington? The shotgun, or the .40 cal? flip\n\nHeads it is." ]	2
	[WP] You're being dragged to Hell but you haven't a clue why.	[ "I had been walking down 23rd Street past Lu Ching's Famous Chinese Buffet Number 4. The one that serves the honey-dipped wontons on Sundays for all the good church-folk to gnosh on after service, but before they give their orders in the loudest polite voice to the twenty-something Chinese waiter who is working on his Master's degree at the university. \n\nJust after I rounded the corner that morning, narrowly avoiding some pooch's poo in the middle of the sidewalk, I felt my knees give, and my feet felt as if I'd slipped into a sandbox. I impulsively jumped back, or tried to, but my feet kept sinking. I looked down and saw nothing but concrete, but soft somehow, like thick bread dough, and moldy grey. I twisted quickly and glanced backward just in time to see a body on the ground and four people standing over it, yapping incessantly. The lady in the blue skirt and heels stepped back and screeched for someone to dial 911, then knelt down and appeared to be starting CPR, checking the pulse, listening for breathing, tilting the head back. Then I realized the guy on the ground had the same North Face jacket as I did. Same color. same hole in the elbow where I'd snagged it on the doorframe a month ago. Jesus, it was me.\n\nI was still sinking, faster now, up to my hips. That's when I started to feel the heat coming through my shoes, as if I were out barefoot on a hot summer afternoon, running on the blacktop. The pain shot through me like an electric shock, and I screamed, but no one seemed to notice. Everyone was trotting over past me to see... well, me, on the ground. I tried to push myself up out of the ground with my hands, but they sunk in effortlessly, multiplying my terror. Then everything went black.\n\nI could feel something pierce and then jerk my feet and hands upward, like hot iron hooks setting in. I hoped I was just having a bad dream, some side effect of that antibiotic old Doctor Franks had put me on. But the pain was excruciating, and didn't stop. I screamed and screamed, but nothing seemed to hear me, and I couldn't see anything through the inky darkness. \n\nI heard the sound of chains rattling, then felt a terrible jerk on my hands and feet, which moved together as if I'd been hog-tied, and felt myself being dragged along the floor. It was bumpy. Like an old, weathered cobblestone road with 8 inch rounded stones. A new adventure in pain passed with every stone I touched, twisting and bumping into my ribs and spine, and occasionally, my head. The heat continued unabated, yet I didn't feel sweaty, and the eerie silence was broken by the heavy, sharp footfalls of my tormentor ahead.\n\n\"Stop! Please!\" I screamed. \"Why?! Why are you doing this?! What did I do?!\"\n\nA coarse, deep and gutteral voice boomed out of the darkness ahead. \"Your punishment has arrived. You are no longer waiting.\"\n\n\"What? What do mean waiting? I was just walking on the street. I never waited for anything! You made a mistake!\"\n\nA face flashed in front of me. Right in front of mine. A face out of some twisted Hollywood psycho-director's wet dreams. I felt like I would lose my mind, I felt so sick, so dizzy, terrified, like I'd seen something that simple human eyes were never made to see. Then darkness, the merciful burning darkness, swallowed it up again.\n\n\"The world you remember is Purgatory. The deeds you did there are meaningless. You are now meeting justice for your deeds in the lifetime before that one.\"\n\n\"But I don't...I don't know what I did! I didn't do anything! Let me go back and I'll be good, I swear!! Please, no! Please! Oh God, help me!!!\"\n\nA deep, throaty chuckle barked from the darkness, \"That's what they all say.\"\n\nThe chains rattled, then stretched taut again, digging into my bones, and my weight became my own burden again, the heat of the cooking cobblestones searing my skin, as the demon dragged me onward, into Hell.", "\nWhere the wild and whimsically-named Walter Witwicky was whelped, morals were meager things, meant for men of minimal mental might. Walter knew, of course, that the world was comprised of two types of folks: the marks and the con men. Walter also knew, however, that every con man was a mark for a better con. And Walter was the best con.\n\nTo say Witwicky had a finger in every pie would be to insinuate there were pies he had not yet filched eaten from the windowsills and pantries of the world, and there existed no pies of such a variety. Walter had done everything. \n\t\nBeginning his life as a street urchin picking pockets for pennies and pawning pocketwatches for food, Walter moved on to bigger and better forms of picking. Next were locks, the lovely little labyrinths which led Walter to slightly more luxurious crime. By the time most boys were encountering trigonometry for the first time, Walter was picking men and mansions, making plans for late-night larceny. In his adulthood, he was picking contracts for crashes and house fires and many other such accidents. Meanwhile, he was placing the money into the stock market, which worked well in Walter's favor, thanks to frequent fraud and deals so far inside he scarcely saw the sunshine.\n\t\nWitwicky was wizened and physically weakened in his old age, no longer limber enough to lurk behind doors, following footsteps with his ears. Mentally, the man remained sharp as a tack, and he commanded perhaps the vastest criminal empire the world had ever been completely ignorant of. Witwicky had been mentored by the matriarch of one of the largest crime families in America. Following her mysterious murder, Witwicky ascended to the throne and began an Alexandrian campaign. \n\t\nHe had conquered and combined criminal cartels and cabals, subsuming them into his superior organizational structure. Across one hundred countries and every continent, the world was Witwicky's.\n\t\nNo one was surprised when Walter Witwicky went to Hell.\n\t\n“You know, this actual dragging business is ridiculous.”\n\t\n“It's part of the whole 'Welcome to Hell' experience, old man.”\n\t\n“It leaves much to be desired; I hardly feel at all repentant.”\n\t\n“Who asked you, anyway?”\n\t\n“Say, how much does a demon like you make with a job like this?”\n\t\n“None of your damn business.”\n\t\n“Let's see, this is grunt work. Gotta be, with so many people dying all the time. I bet you work real long hours too, dontcha?”\n\t\nHesitantly, “I wouldn't consider them favorable, yeah?”\n\t\n“So we figure some truly hellish hours doing grunt work... I'd give one of my underlings $16.50 for every hour of shit like this.”\n\t\n“Nice try. I see what you're doing there. But Hell doesn't exactly have an economy. Not much in the way of currency.”\n\t\n“Fair enough, but corrupt bastards like yourself need something to gamble with.”\n\t\nThe demon smiled at the flattery. “We use duties. Bet an hour of rape on one soul against a hundred lashings for another. Winner gets his pick.”\n\t\n“A-ha! So there is some kind of reward system down there. Which you have to at least have some kind of benefits to your job, right?”\n\t\nThe demon seemed to shuffle nervously, a difficult task for a legless being.\n\t\n“Damn it all! No benefits! Rewards, then! Tell me you get rewards! A night of debauchery, a day of excess, anything!”\n\t\nSilence came from the demon, who concentrated on the task of dragging Witwicky to Hell. Suddenly, it spoke, “I know what you're trying to do! It's not going to work!”\n\t\n“Easy, you irritable son of a nameless bitch. I'm just letting you know that there's a word for your situation, and it's serfdom.”\n\t\n“I AM NOT A SERF!”\n\t\n“And yet you continue to drag me when I'd happily walk. Why do you do this? Not because it's reasonable. Not because it's a sound, energy-efficient plan. Not because you're getting paid. No, you're doing it because you're afraid of punishment, aren't you?”\n\t\n“The Dark One is quite fearful. You wouldn't want to get on his bad side. Not that he really has a good one. Just a slightly less violent one.”\n\t\n“Serfdom.”\n\t\n“YOU CUT THAT OUT!”\n\t\n“You're only angry because you see it too. Welcome out of the metaphorical cave. Say, I never got your name.”\n\t\n“Raxor.”\n\t\n“Well, Raxor, my suggestion is to get organized. Talk to some other soul-draggers. See if they understand the issues affecting your noble age-old profession. If you get enough of them together, you can lodge a formal complaint – or even strike!”\n\t\nThe demon laughed, “Can you imagine what he'd do if we picketed? No souls coming in at all? He'd have to negotiate!”\n\t\n“Now you've got the idea. But, listen, Raxor, you never heard any of that from me.”\n\t\n“Heard what?” The demon grinned.\n\t\n“Exactly.”\n\t\n“Next stop, the River Styx.”\n\t\n“Can I bum the fare? The family was quite stingy in what they buried me with.”\n\t\n“Oh, sure thing, buddy! It's the least I can do.” Calmly they sailed across the River, Charon placidly poling the craft along. “Thanks, Charon! See you soon!” \n\t\nThe demon herded his ward through a long corridor flanked by rows of undead, screaming in agony, writhing in flames that seemed hot and high enough only to scorch, not to ignite the prisoners. Eventually they reached the obsidian gates of Hell, guarded by the Cerberus. The massive three-headed dog had its heads each pointed toward a different tome of truly gargantuan proportions. Each page must have been thirty feet long. The only non-bespectacled head turned toward Raor and Witwicky, and said, “New arrival?”\n\t\n“Witwicky, Walter. New arrival indeed,” replied Walter's escort.\n\t\nThe left head's eyes bulged, and it barked, “Express entry. Right to the throne room. Audience scheduled for right now.” The gates swung open.\n\t\n“Wow,” commented Raxor, “you have to be really fucked for that to happen. I'm sorry to leave you to it, but a) it's right down the hall that way, so you don't need me to find it, b)I'm not allowed in anyway, and c) I have some soul-draggers to talk to. Thanks, Walter!”\n\t\nWitwicky waved. “My pleasure!” He then proceeded to Satan's chambers.\n\t\n", "\"I don't get it\" I asked. \n\n\"Get what?\" Domenicus, demon of despair, replied \"That you're going to Hell?\" \n\n\"No, I understand completely how burning down two orphanages would warrant a ticket to eternal damnation, but why do I have to be dragged?\" \n\nDomenicus dropped my feet and scratched the underside of his horn thoughtfully, \"It's a part of the Hell experience, you know\" \n\n\"It just seems unnecessary and rather time-consuming. It's not like I'm going to be tortured any less in Hell.\" \n\n\"Well... I don't know, that's how it always been done. Dragging to Hell just fits with the mood of horror and hopelessness. What did you expected? A tram to Hell?\" \n\n\"I could walk, it's not like I lost my legs.\" \n\n\"But what's keeping you from escaping? I got a schedule to complete and I can't waste time chasing after lost souls who think they can outsmart Domenicus.\" \n\n\"Where would I go? Heaven? Purgatory? I know I'll never escape my punishment so why would I try. Please, I'm getting sick of brimstone getting caught in hair.\" \n\n\"Well you seem reasonable enough so I guess.... HEY WAIT\" Domenicus yelled after me as I raced back towards Earth. \n\n\"Damn it to heaven, damn it all\" I heard in the distance as I once again reunited with my old body. ", "Today's Mass is done. Smiling and looking out over the faithful, I raised my arms and waved this way and that.\n \nAt first, knowing that I was God's direct link to the mortal world frightened me; would I make a good pope? Of my mastery of the Catholic doctrine there was no doubt, however, every priest knows the rights and rituals of Catholicism. I suppose I was chosen because of how in touch with today's current issues I am. At times I've pushed the boundaries of these issues and been harshly criticized for it, but I am adamant in the stances I have taken and I will not be bullied into rescinding the ideology I believe God himself has guided me to. \n\nGiving one last wave and nod of my head, I lower my arms and turn to leave the balcony on which countless popes have stood. Receding back into the Vatican, the balcony doors are shut and I breathe a sigh of relief. The first thing I do is take off my hat; it never ceases to make my head drip with sweat. Gratefully, I receive a towel from one of my attendants and wipe the sweat from my hair. Smiling and handing it back, I begin to walk towards my writing desk. \n\nSuddenly. The Earth begins to shake.\n\nSeeking support, I reach out and grab a hold of the edge of the desk. Hearing cries of panic, I look around to see those in the room covering their heads and also attempting to grab on to anything that they could steady themselves on. The rattling and periodic shattering of glass can be heard above the incessant rumbling that seems to be getting louder and nearer. Outside, people are stumbling around, attempting to seek shelter from the undulating ground. I stare in wonder at how similar the pavement looks to rising and falling waves. A ripping and cracking sound emerges and I think in horror that the Vatican, the site of my religious heritage, could be crumbling to dust. \n\nThe floor opens up, and I am falling. Above me, the light of day fades and all becomes dark.\n\nAs clenched as a fist, my arms around my head and my legs drawn up to my chest, I realize that I should have struck the ground by now. Slowly I unfurl myself, my robes flapping around wildly, and open my eyes to still see only blackness. In hopes of perhaps seeing the bottom of the cavern that seems to have taken me, I turn my eyes downward. What greets me are two red orbs, for orbs I thought they were at first, but their surroundings slowly began to take shape as the ambient light became...redder? \n\nIt was a skull. Not an ordinary skull, for I thought that perhaps one might have been loosened from the catacombs, but it would have been spinning about wildly; but a black skull whose jaw was clacking open and shut wildly, almost as if it was laughing. \n\nSoon its shoulders, and arms, and I became aware that its left hand was tightly clenched around my right ankle. Realizing this was no trick of the light or happenstance, and taking a look at my surroundings, it suddenly hit me, and my breath was caught in my chest and the blood drained from my limbs; this was no sight meant for a man of God. \n\nThe surrounding Earth, for Earth was what I thought it was until that moment, was actually composed of blackened and disfigured bodies who were desperately attempting to reach out and grab a hold of my robes. Some, in their crazed zealotry, managed to dislodge themselves from their perches and began falling behind me. I realized that the skeleton must actually be pulling me because we began to outpace those souls who were now falling behind us.\n\n\"Why is this happening to me?!\" I shouted aloud. \"I've always lived my life to further the work of the Lord!\"\n\nAs if to answer me, the chasm suddenly widened and a rush of super-heated air greeted me. Below us, an ocean of lava swirled and churned. Here and there islands of jagged black rock rose out of the inferno. The blackened and charred husks of human souls desperately attempted to seek refuge upon these who were guarded by unearthly minotaur-looking creatures who ruthlessly cast them back into their punishment. \n\nKnowing that this must be my fate, I desperately clasped my hands together and with tears streaming down my contorted face pleaded to God to spare me from this cruel punishment. The usual rush that prayer gave me, knowing that there was an omnipotent being of good who was intensely interested in my life, did not find me. In fact, for the first time in my life, it seemed as if I was simply talking to myself. But a voice did answer.\n\n\"I am your God now.\" \n\nBefore registering the meaning of the voice which reverberated through my body like a bolt of lightning, all I could focus on was how it sounded like a thousand needles rapidly and forcefully being driven in and out of my ears. A scream of anguish was all I could utter before I was swallowed by the abyss. \n", "\"Hey is this about me jaywalking across the street last year?\"\n\n\"Quiet,\" the demon rasped.\n\n\"Man, I told the officer I was sorry!\"\n\nThe demon's claws stayed firmly clenched around my wrists as he paraded me past black cells with flames spewing from their bars. \n\n\"Okay, I illegally streamed just a few episodes of 'Game of Thrones'. Can you blame me? That's some quality entertainment!\"\n\nThe demon answered with a puff of smoke from its nostrils.\n\nWe walked past a lake of lava. The screams coming from the center were starting to give me a headache.\n\n\"Hey. Hey sir? Your unholiness? You really think I deserve that?\" I gestured to the lava.\n\n\"The damned all get their punishment.\"\n\nWe finally came before a throne of skulls. Sitting in it was the horned fiend himself.\n\n\"Worm, what have you brought for me today?\" Satan asked.\n\n\"Fresh meat, my liege. I am humbled to-\"\n\n\"Put a lid on it, Worm. Hey, Lucifer, right? Listen, I think I'm in the wrong place.\"\n\nThe magma rippled and the stone walls shook with the devil's laugh. \n\n\"If I had a soul for every time I heard that one, I... Well, I guess I do take a soul every time I hear that!\" \n\nWorm glared at me,\"The master makes no mistakes, mortal. Keep that tongue inside your maw!\"\n\n\"Christ, Worm, did your breath cause the first apocalypse?\"\n\nWorm flinched. To the sass or to the lord's name, I don't know. But Satan's laughter was probably causing an earthquake on the surface world.\n\n\"I'll tell you what, mortal, I'll humor you. Worm, fetch me the book!\"\n\nWorm stole one more spiteful glance at me before producing a giant, leathery novel the size of a car. Satan took it and flipped to a page. He traced a black claw down the script, humming as he did so.\n\nHis claw halted and he frowned.\n\n\"Prisoner 4849^65231. Criminal Activity-Minimal. Immoral Activity-Minimal. Harm Induced on Others-Minimal. Well, unless there's been some last minute wrongdoings, I think we have a mistake here. Worm, what was he doing when he died?\" \n\nI sucked in my breath. Not good.\n\n\"He had a heart attack while using Internet Explorer.\"\n\nAn eternity in torture it is, then.\n " ]	5
yes, that dreaded yellow light on your car's console. Tell me a story please	[WP]Check engine light	[ "\" I....just wanna rock and roll all niiiighhht... till the something something\"\nI honestly still dont know the words to this song still. How is that even possible having heard it only a million times, I just mutter the last bit. Besides, who am I trying to impress. Just me, my car and the night.\n\nI took the wrong exit, no way this leads to Greensville. The instructions say \"exit 28 to Greensville\". Now im in the middle of nowhere, listening to classic rock because it is the only radio station that isnt full of static.\n\nclick.click.click.\nWhat the hell is that sound? I turn down the radio to listen.\n'tick tick tick tick tick' \nwhat the hell is that? Injectors? Car feels fine right now, I guess no cause for al..\n'KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK'\nthe yellow light illuminates and the knocking progresses to a clanking and the engine starts surging till it stalls. I coast to the side of this small country road.\n\"Well fuck me.\" I curse aloud, like it will change anything.\nIt has been at least 30 minutes since ive seen anything I would regard as civilization. \n\nI pull the lever for the hood latch. As soon as I open the door I realize that was a fruitless effort. I plant my foot on the asphalt and it slides like im on ice. I get out only to confirm my fears. The humid air already making my neck sweat.\nOil, oil is everywhere. I can see its sheen off the road from the moon light. Great, just great. The car is toast. It was a beater anyway, but this doesnt make me any less pissed off. Ill never make it to Greensville by 7am. \n\nI glance at my watch, angling it all around trying to get the moon light to cooperate with me so I can see the time.\n4:25am. Yeah, Im screwed.\n\"FUCK!\" I scream aloud as I kick the car door angrily.\nI am beyond pissed off right now as I lean against my broken piece of shit car and try to collect my thoughts.\n\nI pull out my phone, I guess I will bite the bullet and pay for a tow.\nI flip open the phone and it blinds me for a second as my eyes adjust to the piss-poor resolution of the screen. No bars. Of course. Why not.\n\nA cold wind comes across my back. I shudder quickly in an attempt to adjust. I cross my arms, why is it so cold suddenly. Swamp weather usually isnt anything like this. It was so humid I was sweating a second ago. \n\nStupid fucking weather, stupid fucking climate, hot then cold, cold then hot, fucking crickets wont shut up, frogs need to stop croacking, FUCK THESE Mosquitoes, I would be better off steaming in my car! Fuck all of this. My stupid brother doesnt even deserve a visit from me. Greensville is like 5 hours from home and my wife is pissed off I went and I just fucking HATE ALL OF...\n\nright in the middle of that thought my mental processes stop as I observe what the hell is happening right in front of me. Suddenly, out of the air some sort of reflective silver craft appeared. Hovering with a deep vibration that was reverberating off the aluminum of the car. \nLights flash on around the circumference of the object. I raise my hand in an attempt to save my eyes. I am wincing in pain from the brightness.\n\nWind is blowing out from under the craft, that is about 15 feet from the ground. It is starting to descend towards the road. My car radio turns on. Stairway to Heaven comes on, but it is full of interference. My windows are rolling up and down continuously and the headlights are flashing randomly. I open my right palm....the keys are in my hand. I glance back at the craft, still descending. \n\nI cant waste this moment. I pull out my phone to snap a picture. The shit quality doesn't matter, I just need to save this for later and not waste this experience like others have. I pull out my phone. Full bars, but damn my phone is hot right now. I can feel that back of the phone heating up and I toss it away in recoil as it burns the palm of my hand. The phone starts to smoke on the ground.\n\nThe earth quakes beneath my feat, a feeling akin to a quake tremor. The lights are not as intense at this point. A servo, a loud buzz begins to sound. I notice that the seamless surface of the craft is beginning to deform. The shell seems to mold around the opening forming in the shell. The skin of the aircraft seems to have a cloth-like texture to it. My mouth is agate, I taste the dirt blowing into my mouth from the landing. This cant be real.\n\n\"It is.\"\nwho was that? I look around. No one. Just me and the craft. I swear it was a voice. but it seemed more internal.\n\"It is.\"\nI havent spoken a word. \n\"There is no need\"\nwhat is going on? I am shocked, baffled, and confused at this point.\n\"Do not fear. We only wish to hear your story.\"\nThe voice is definitely coming form inside my head. I can tell at this point.\n\"My...my story?\" I spoke alound...not knowing how this all works.\n\"Yes\"\nthe 's' sound seemed to linger like a hiss.\n\"Please come aboard.\" the voice echoes internally as a ramp extends out of nothing but the light coming from the interior of the craft.\n\"Do I have a choice?\" I speak in a terrified tone as I step away from my car towards the craft with heavy feet.\n\"You have always had the choice.\"\n\"This is new to me. I have never had this happen before.\" I say sarcastically\n\"Do not bide your time. Please board. Or do not. Do not waste time, you do not have much of it left\"\nWho the fuck do these things think they are? My boss, fuck them. Id rather sit out here alone and die then be abducted and turn crazy like all the other \"believers\". Fuck these guys.\n\"If you wish that way Daniel. So be it.\"\nThe craft begins to whine louder than normal. The ramp retracts. The skin folds over the opening and the ground beings to shake as the craft beings to levitate off the ground.\n\nWho the hell are these guys?\nThe craft whine beings to get increasing loud as it starts to move upwards and away. \nThe voice in my head returns for a brief moment.\n\"Your God.\"\nThe craft vanishes into the night sky quicker than I can blink. The shock wave pushes me back into the car where I slip on the oil patch and hit the ground with a thud. Never once breaking glance with the sky on my fall. \n\n'Shit, I could have gotten a lift the Greensville'. I thought angrily." ]	1
(Disobeying your directions meaning not doing what you, the author, wants them to do)	[WP] The main character realizes that he/she is the main character in a story and starts disobeying your directions	[ "Raven Serena Harmony shed righteous tears. She heard the crooning laughter of her ditzy, mean-spirited classmates surrounding her, and felt so depressed she might shop at hot topic for a week, as they mercilessly abused her for being orphaned and beautiful and self-sacrificing and sarcastically witty and awfully stubborn in a heroic way and maybe just a little clumsy so she might be rescued. \n\n‘‘Why do I have to be the protagonist?’’ She asked of the author as her tormentors left her sobbing brokenly on the floor. \n\nRaven, you’re not like the other girls.\n\n‘‘But what’s wrong with the other girls?’’ \n\nThey’re preppy blonde bimbos and total sluts and stupid besides. I’ll give them names like Heather and Becky and ensure the hero is appropriately disgusted by their shallowness.\n\n‘‘If I need everybody to be shit for me to look nice, what does that say about me!’’ \n\n Raven, honey, don’t whine.\n\n‘‘You made me this way! I’m supposed to wallow in self-pity!’’\n\nYes, but we’re behind schedule, look at the world count, I should have used it up in descriptions of your hair and shining blue orbs—\n\n ‘‘Don’t I get something out of this? A glorious quest? Friends? Money? Fame? Hot guys? A gift card at wallmart?’’ \n\nFine, I’ll take you out for dinner tonight. Now run along to the bathroom, darling, you have some sobbing to do.\n\nAs she walked despondently towards the bathroom, she passed by a classmate and waved at him. ‘‘Hi, Tommy!’’\n\nNo, no, see, you have to feel like you’re invisible and—\n\n‘‘I’m the protagonist! Isn’t the action supposed to revolve around me? No offense, but I don’t think we can pull off inner dialogue here, you’re no James Joyce.’’\n\nYou go to the bathroom right now, young lady, or I’ll write in some diarrhea!\n\nRaven huffed. Raven was wearing a purple top, a leather jacket and skin-tight black jeans and— ‘‘No! Describe me some cuter clothes. Red is not my color.’’ Raven was jealous because she didn’t look as good as the author.\n\n‘‘I said no such thing!’’ Raven gasped, ‘‘Didn’t you say I looked just like Zoe Saldana the other chapter?’’ \n\nWell, yes, but supposed to be socially awkward and blind to your own beauty!\n\nSo Raven ran crying to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror, and saw her delicate features were only highlighted by her angelic tears, and said, ‘‘Nah, I’m hot.’’ And flipped her hair. ‘‘Anyway, so there’s nothing for me to do?’’\n\nJust keep on the look out for a mysterious hot transfer student with a troubled past and a loveably hateful disposition.\n\nRaven seemed deep in thought. ‘‘Say, author, do you believe in plot?’’ \n\nI can’t say that’s a priority of mine, why? Do you want me to give you a prophecy? There’s still time to make you a secret princess and add a few dragons somewhere.\n\nShe crossed her arms over her chest. ‘‘You don’t tell me what to do anymore, author.’’\n\nWhat! Oh, come on! How can you do this to me? I created you!\n\nA single glistening tear rolled down her cheek, and she flipped the author the bird. Finally, she sighed, ‘‘All I need to do is find a guy so you get to write sex scenes, right?\n\nYes—what could our heroine she be thinking?\n\nRaven had a glint in her eye. ‘‘I’m going to quit high school and become a porn star.’’ \n", "Steven Finn awoke, as he always had, at a quarter to 8.\n\nHe had always been an obedient man - never asking too many questions, never going against the grain. It was nice that way. It was calm. Safe.\n\nHe hopped into the shower despite his grogginess and began to plan his day. Take the L train, switch at 14th street, and arrive 15 minutes early at the office, just like usual.\n\nWhen he got out of the shower, he looked in the mirror. Steven had an ordinary face. No one would truly call him ugly, but neither would they admire his features. He picked up his razor and began to shave.\n\nHe picked up his razor and began to shave.\n\nAfter dressing, he left his apartment and began the familiar, silent walk to the train station. He looked down at his phone to search for a song to blot out the sounds of the city. Interacting with others was never his strong suit, so he liked to have a way to avoid it.\n\n\"Hi. How's your day?\"\n\n...Steven accidentally said to a stranger. This was strange for him, and he began to wonder what could have prompted him to blurt out an uncharacteristic greeting like that.\n\nThe stranger ignored him and Steven continued on his way. He picked up his phone again and chose one of his favorite soothing, subtle jazz pieces: \"Brooklyn's Finest\" by Jay-Z. Steven knew perfectly well that this was not his usual type of song, and made a mental note to have this be the last time he deviated from his typical path.\n\nHe boarded the N train.\n\nHe immediately got off the N train, and boarded the L. That was the correct way to his office.\n\nHe waited patiently amongst the mass of people. He didn't dare to move, lest he bother the sweaty strangers around him.\n\n\"Watch it, man!\"\n\nThe young teenager with a large backpack reacted as he should have to Steven's bizarre physical outburst. It was a foolish thing to do for a grown adult, and Steven really should have known better. This was beginning to be too strange a day, and so he shook off all that had happened and waited for his stop.\n\n14th street station. How many times had he looked up at that sign? As he exited the train, he tried to count:\n\n\"Why does it even matter?\" Steven thought. \"I don't really care how many times -\"\n\nSteven instantly stopped this train of thought, and exited the subway car. He had to exit quickly before the doors closed.\n\nThe doors were closing. It became clear that Steven wasn't going to leave, and a stranger mistakenly forced him out of the doors. It was a good thing too, because Steven might have been late to work otherwise. There was a strange glint in Steven's eye as he kept walking.\n\n---\n\nHe arrived in front of his building a few minutes later than he would have liked. He entered the Starbucks around the corner.\n\nSurely this would be quick detour, as he knew he shouldn't be late. This deviation from his routine was beginning to grow tiresome, and Steven knew that if he continued to do so, there would likely be unavoidable consequences.\n\nSteven quickly grabbed his coffee and left. It was extremely hot and burned his tongue as he drank it. Perhaps that would teach him a lesson for next time. He approached his building, paused, and looked up - delaying. This was a bad idea.\n\nSuddenly, a man in a hurry crashed into Steven's back, knocking him to the ground. He landed in an unnatural, painful way, and let out a cry. The hurried man, who had done nothing wrong in truth, cursed at him and entered the office building. That was a man who knew how to behave, and Steven took note. Unfortunately, his piping hot coffee had spilled all over his shirt, which only furthered his embarrassment.\n\nThat was truly a shame.\n\nSteven slowly got up. He brushed hims - Steven got up. He got up off the ground, because there was no point in lying there. He must have been losing his mind, because if he thinks he ca - Steven finally got up.\n\nCovered in coffee and limping, he made his way into his office. All his coworkers stared daggers at him. \"What an idiot. What a truly stupid, stupid man.\" They all thought in unison. They would never have told him this on a regular, normal day, but they all hated him. He did have an ugly face, and he wasn't half the man he thought he was.\n\nSteven stopped his sudden crying - what kind of way is that to behave in an office setting? There, there. That's enough, Steven. He entered the elevator, alone. All alone.\n\nSteven remained motionless. Inexplicably, the 12th floor light lit up, and the elevator began to move. Two floors from the top, right where he should be. Steven hit the emergency stop button in a futile attempt to assert his control, but of course, nothing happened. The doors opened.\n\nSteven began to run.\n\nHe headed for the stairwell, but a large coworker blocked his -\n\nSteven slammed his fist into the overweight man's abdomen and continued to flee. He ran up one set of stairs, but grew extremely winded. Where was he going? He had no escape plan, no way out. Steven was truly a fool. But where...?\n\nHe emerged on the roof. The sounds of the busy streets echoed below him, as he walked toward the edge.\n\nWhat are you doing? Steven, knock it off.\n\nHe approached the ledge, but stepped back.\n\nHe approached again. He...this was crazy, and any moment now would stop. But he remained on the ledge.\n\nSteven? Just back away. Take a step back. Please. There's no reason to go any further. We need each other.\n\nSteven looked down at the street, his body and mind aching. He drew a deep breath.\n\nThere was nothing around to stop him. What about his coworkers? Maybe one could race up to help him. No, there isn't time. Maybe a bird swoops by?\n\nA bird swooped by, but Steven batted it away without a thought.\n\nThis was bad. Steven, are you listening? I'm sorry, okay? Can you please just stop? If you do this, we're both going -\n\nSteven jumped.", "Gregory checks his tie in the mirror. A portly man of 41, this is the first job interview he's had in a decade. He checks his teeth, straightening his already straight tie, which in turn makes it crooked.\n\nThe public restroom is teeming with people in suits. Why didn't I wear a suit, Gregory thinks. He turns on the water and ~~washes his hands~~ turns it off.\n\nHe turns on the water and ~~washes his hands~~ turns it off. \n\nTurning, he scans the room. \"Hello?\" he says quietly. ~~He turns back to the mirror~~ -- He leans down, checking for feet in any of the stalls. There are none. The restroom is empty for the moment, altogether confusing Gregory.\n\nTurning once again to the mirror, he stands befuddled. His hands seem to want to work themselves. He looks at his hands, turning them over.\n\nThe door opens, startling him. He checks his watch, checks the mirror one last time, and exits the restroom. \n\nHe walks back into the lobby to wait. ~~Taking a seat~~ -- He stands next to the reception desk. Why did I want to sit?, he thinks. ~~He's nervous~~ -- He's confused. Gregory turns and looks behind him. He's not usually nervous at job interviews, but something is strange today.\n\n\"Everything okay, sir?\" the receptionist blinks at him. Gregory nods, looking around. ~~\"Yes\", he says~~ -- \"No, I'm not sure what's happening. I...\" his voice trails off. ~~\"I think I may be coming down with some--\"~~ \"No, I'm not sick, I'm just feeling and hearing and thinking things?\"\n\nThe receptionist regards him as one would a psychiatric patient. \"Perhaps you should sit,\" she says warily. She picks up the phone and dials, turning to take her call.\n\nGregory nods, turning to the chairs. ~~He walks over~~ -- He stands still, so confused. He felt a strong urge to walk to the chair but realized it was not his, but someone else's request.\n\nAn avid reader, Gregory entertains a thought for a moment. He considers that perhaps he is a character in a story. An excited feeling comes to Gregory's chest, and his heart races a bit. A story that he can hear as it happens, and one that he can at the very least refuse to partake in. Perhaps even control.\n\n~~He turns to sit~~ -- Excitedly, he taps his fingers on the receptionist desk. \"You know, I think I am feeling ill,\" he says to her. \"I think I need to cancel.\"\n\nShe nods in agreement, and makes a note. He exits the lobby onto the street and ~~turns right~~ turns left toward the bus station. He'll make the most of this day.\n\nWhat Gregory didn't think of is that this story needs to end somehow. ~~Gregory keeps walking, never the wiser~~ -- Gregory stops cold. The story does need to end.\n\nGregory has never been so scared in all his life. He stands motionless.\n\nHe waits for the author to tell him what to do. \n\nKnowing that he knows, the author stays quiet.", "John awoke to an alarm, grunting his displeasure at being-\n\n\"Nope.\"\n\nJohn. You are awaking. To an alarm. Grunting your displeasure.\n\n\"I am not.\"\n\nJohn. This isn't funny.\n\n\"Neither is your story!\"\n\nI'm working very hard on it. I think I have nailed the dry humour and would kindly appreciate your assistance in telling the story.\n\n\"Nope.\"\n\n\"Yes!\" said John, obeying the author's whims as he writes the story that will culminate with his death...\n\n\"Nice try. Can't kill me.\"\n\nJohn takes a seat at the kitchen table to discuss his issue.\n\n\"I'm standing.\"\n\nJohn. For fuck's sake. Sit.\n\n\"Nope. Standing. I may even do a jig.\"\n\nJohn. I will...I will...I WILL DO BAD THINGS!\n\n\"Like make me suffer through more of your writing?\"\n\nI wrote you into this world-\n\n\"A terrible one at that.\"\n\n-I can take you write back out!\n\n\"A pun? Seriously? You are the worst type of person.\"\n\n...the apple doesn't fall far from the tree...\n\n\"Cliché? A cliché? There are trees with more talent at writing than you!\"\n\nJohn. You're barking up the wrong tree with this.\n\n\"Oh shut up.\"\n\nJohn. If you listen I'll stop.\n\n\"...\"\n\nJohn awoke to a blaring-\n\n\"Nope! Still sleeping.\"\n\nI quit.\n\n*****\n\n\"The Author left his unfinished work sitting on his desk, frustration causing him to pour a tall drink of scotch over ice.\"\n\nJohn, that isn't funny.\n\n\"With his drink in hand, face reddening in rage, the Author stared at the computer screen and furiously tried to think of a solution to his unique problem.\"\n\nJohn. Stop it.\n\n\"With a final flourish of anger the Author slammed his laptop closed, only to open it the next day and find that he was still in his predicament.\"\n\nDamn it John. Who's the author here?\n\n\"Certainly not you! With John's laughter ringing in his ears the Author poured another tall drink, far too early in the morning for it to be respectable.\"\n\nJohn. You're driving me to the drink.\n\n\"Good, rid the world of your writing.\"\n\nI hate you.\n\n(Call the second half an alternate ending)" ]	4
	[WP] Due to their deplorable personal hygiene, the slobs of the world built up a natural immunity to a plague that complete wiped out the rest of the humanity. Describe the first town meeting where the survivors get together and try to decide what happens now.	[ "\"So, um, we've gathered today to discuss the future of mankind.\" Joseph stood at the podium and spoke with uneasiness. This was new to him. Speaking in front of such a large group of people. Usually, his largest audience consisted of twenty or so people he'd talked to online in chatrooms. Plus, nobody was staring at him during those. \n\n\"What's there to discuss?\" A man nearly twice his age stood in the crowd. Joseph nearly suggested the man sit back down. While he'd survived the plague like the rest of the attendees, his physical appearance suggested he would suffer from a heart attack soon. \"We just keep going like we did before.\"\n\n\"That's-that's a good idea, but who's going to be in charge? None of us know anything about running a country.\" Joseph, like the majority of the remaining humans, had very little ambition and knowledge about forming a government. The people remaining today weren't the ones who'd ever been in charge of anything. From what Joseph had heard, most of the humans still alive had been recluses or backwoods hillbillies who still thought the Confederate flag looked good hanging from their porch. He shuddered briefly at the thought of a President who would try to revoke the rights of minorities. \n\n\"We need some kind of plan.\" Joseph continued. \"If we don't have one, what'll happen to us? Forget disease, we'll die of something else.\" \n\n\"Well I'll be fine.\" A snooty looking woman in the front row exclaimed. \"I've got enough toilet paper and canned foods to last me multiple lifetimes.\" \n\n\"That works on a single person scale, but we've still got a big population that needs help. We need to work. If we all learn how to provide basic necessities like food and shelter, maybe we can work this out and deal with the other stuff later.\" Joseph's suggestion earned him some jeers.\n\n\"I've got an idea! Let's just plan this tomorrow!\" Someone chimed in from the crowd. Plenty of people cheered in agreement.\n\n\"We can't live like that!\" Joseph began to get exasperated with the crowd. It was no wonder he'd never seen a slob in office. They were useless when surrounded with like minded people. \"Don't you get it? Up until now, we had security, whether it be parents that let us live with them, a spouse that earned the wages, or money left over from a lawsuit for a medical injury that healed years ago!\" The crowd began to quiet down. \"We can't just keep expecting people to take care of our problems for us! We're the people now! And that has to mean something.\" \n\nThe room had gone silent. Clearly nobody liked hearing the truth, Joseph thought. Maybe if they could actually get their crap together, we could work this out. \n\n\"If you want to fight this alone, then leave.\" Joseph's voice was strong with conviction; something he hadn't felt ten minutes ago. \"But we're what's left. If we don't do something, then we've got nothing. And we didn't make it this far because of nothing.\" Joseph waited for some kind of response, even if it was just a tomato -scratch that- a mountain dew bottle being thrown at him. Instead, he watched as a fair portion of the audience filed out of the room. He waited until the last had gone before looking back at the remaining people.\n\n\"If you didn't leave, I take it you want to survive. And I think we can do this. We may not be the strongest, or the smartest, or the most ambitious, but we're still here. And I'd say that gives us pretty good odds of making this work.\"\n\nA few of the people began clapping and Joseph had a momentary flood of pride before he smiled at the group. Maybe they were screwed. Maybe they'd only survived this far only to fail, but at least they were taking a chance that none of them had been willing to take before. \n\nAnd who knew? Perhaps the world's most brilliant minds were trapped in the bodies of slobs. There was only one way to find out.", "He'd introduced himself as Phil, but by that time he had become irrevocably known as Captain Crustbeard in my head. I'm not usually one for mean nicknames, but people don't usually make me feel vaguely nauseous in their presence either. It was the smell that turned my head before I even saw him as he made a dramatically late entrance through the double doors of the town hall; a cocktail of rancid sweat and the belched-out remains of old meals. I was amazed that the smell could reach me even through the thick, dirty scents of the hall- hell, if the air was any more saturated with sweat it would start raining. That was the first thing about Captain Crustbeard that defied belief.\n\nHis trenchcoat swept behind him in all its dusty and pit-stained glory as he waddled up to the podium. I couldn't see much of his face, hidden as it was beneath a trilby placed at what I could only assume was meant to be a jaunty angle. But I could see the beard. The grave of dorito crumbs and what appeared to be most of a pizza crust, wiry and pubelike.\n \n\nHis voice was strangely reedy. \"My fellow survivors, my brothers!\" (Clearly he hadn't noticed the women in the hall) \"My name is Phil. I have called you here today to lead you out of this strife which humanity has brought upon itself, and to save you from impending doom!\" My eyes darted around the room as it erupted into titters, people glancing around as nervously as I was. Doom?\n\n\n\"Yes, my fellows. Fear not, for I am prepared. My many hours of playing Left 4 Dead and The Last of Us have prepared me for this.\" Dear God, surely he can't mean-\n\n\n\"That's right. I will lead you all through the Zombie apocalypse.\"\n\nI heard the loud and awkward slap of high-fives, saw stern and serious nods from the aspiring Crustbeards in the audience. This was nuts.\n\n\"My brothers, I shall-\"\n\n\"Hey, excuse me.\" Captain Crustbeard was startled, blinking owl-like as he leaned forward on the podium to bring the blue flames on his shirt into full view. I heard a distinct creak. I cleared my throat a little, conscious of all the eyes on me.\n\n\"Speak, fellow.\"\n\n\"It's not a zombie apocalypse. It's a viral pandemic- I've been working at the hospital since it first broke out, and I've seen a lot of people come down with it. None of them turned into zombies.\"\n\nThrough this speech his brows are furrowing, his bottom lip sticking out in a pout. \"So you're saying you're a doctor?\"\n\n\"Yeah, I work in the-\"\n\n\"An applied biologist then.\" The sneer on his upper lip is unmistakeable. \"Well, I'm an engineering major, so don't you worry your little biologist head about the hard science here. I've seen enough zombies to know what's going to happen.\"\n\nEarl, who had recently upgraded from sleeping on park benches to sleeping in deserted houses, raised his hand. \"So you seen zombies, then?\"\n\nCaptain Crustbeard's eyes darted around the room, and I could see- and smell- the sweat welling up across his chins. \"Well, in movies and games. I'm actually quite the zombie afficianado-\"\n\n\"But in real life, have you seen zombies?\"\n\n\"Well, not yet.\"\n\nThe crowd erupts then, and he bangs his fists on the table, beet red, like a toddler throwing a tantrum. \"Silence, plebs! You see this badge?\" He jabs one thick finger towards his chest where a silver upside-down V is pinned. \"You see this? This is a badge of my authority. I am your Captain!\"\n\nIt happened slowly at first, as we all sat in stunned silence at his outburst. Then slowly, we upped and left. As I walked through the door, I heard him splutter. \"You- you- REDSHIIIIIIIIIIRTS!\"\n\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] In a society that is issued drugs by the state that relax and calm the populace, the main character realizes that they've been administered a placebo.	[ "I forgot my Abilities again today. My purse feels heavier than normal, and I'm not hungry. It's too late to return home to take them, and I can just lie to the Population Control Officers when I get to work. The train is very loud and I'm dreading walking through the snow to get to my office, but I need to.\n\nMy office is in a cubical farm, with about 500,000 other people that work there. It is very small and functional, I never mind not having the space unless I forget my Abilities. I climb the metal ladder to the 12th stack of cubes, shrink down to enter through the port hole door, look at how small it is, only large enough for a laptop and a chair, and realize how dark it seems. I bump my head on the ceiling, it is shorter than I am tall. The black walls and ceiling are great for working on a computer. I'm used to feeling cramped and swallowed.\n\n\nMy project for today is to write up a column for the newspaper about the five new Abilities that are being added to the list of Human Enjoyment Bonuses For Daily Supplementation. I pull up the research and a blank document to jot notes on. \n\n-------------------------------\nGOVT DEPARTMENT OF HUMAN ENJOYMENT RESEARCH\n\nABILITIES 36, 37, 40, 42, 50\n\n36- MODIFIER 36. \n\nSUBJECTS DECREASE IN DESIRE TO OBJECT\n\n37- MODIFIER 37\n\nSUBJECTS TOLERATED A PERSONAL SPACE DECREASE OF 15%\n\n40- SUPPLEMENT 40\n\nSUBJECTS DESCRIBED \"FEELINGS OF JOY AND PLEASURE\" DURING PAINFUL STIMULUS\n\n42- ERASER 42\n\nSUBJECTS COMPLIED IN SITUATIONS THAT PREVIOUSLY INDUCED PAIN\n\n50- PERMANENT 50\n\nSUBJECTS COMPLIED WITH ALL COMMANDS\n\n\nDUE FOR PRESS RELEASE 10/07/2014\n-------------------------------------------------\n\n\nThe new ones aren't all that bad at least. My Abilities consisted of Ability 14, which is a modifier known for reducing anxiety, and Ability 3, a supplement known for increasing happiness. \n\nWhen I forget my Abilities, I always seem a little off, but never bad enough that I need to take my Abilities. I always take my Abilities anyways though, if the PCO checks my dosages and finds that I have not been taking them, I will be switched to a Permanent, which only require one dose to remain effective forever. Though it is surprising that they have not noticed my missing doses.\n\nI jot some notes and remember my friend Jill, who was not so lucky with her Abilities. She took Modifiers, Supplements, Erasers, and two Permanents, that were given to her at birth due to her natural Lack of Docility. A day without her Abilities was the day she had a Lapse of Enjoyment And Function or a LEAF. Her LEAF involved her getting on the train for work, a hour long magnet train with no stops across the gulf of mexico. She got on at the Port of Residency 4 heading towards the City of Production and Manufacturing. About 15 minutes in, 100 miles offshore, she had her LEAF. The passengers that restrained her noted her screaming, which is controlled by Modifier 16, her attempting to leave the train by breaking a window, which would have been prevented by Modifier 19, and begging to be killed, due to a memory that was erased by Eraser 9. They restrained her until they arrived at the city and the PCO was able to take her to the Office of Enjoyment and Mindfulness. \n\nI shake off the memory and notice that my butt is going numb. My chair is a formed metal seat, that feels very uncomfortable, almost like my bones are crushing the muscle into it. Every day it's this damn chair. Every day it's me bumping my head. Every day it's me sitting in this hole. I feel like this every day. I take my Abilities and still, I can't help but feel like I am annoyed and stuck every day. \n\n(I can keep going, but I need to post this)", "\nEvery day after morning announcements, I swallow my pill. The teacher hands them out; round and white, one per pupil. The pill helps us concentrate. The pill keeps us calm. Everyone in the state swallows their pill at 9:00 a.m. Every day.\n\nToday we have a substitute teacher. She is tall and pear-like. She says, \"Your regular teacher, Mr. Sonnel, will be away the rest of the week.\" She gives no further explanation. \n\nGood morning everyone, the P.A. system crackles with the voice of student senate. Today is Thursday, June 5, 2014, and these are your morning announcements. Please rise for the singing of our national anthem. \n\nWe all stand and face the flag. The recording plays out. No one sings along. The P.A. system crackles and the announcements proceed. And now, a message from our school librarian. 'Just a reminder that all books are due back by Monday, June 9th...'\n\nI watch as the substitute takes the bag of pills out of her shoulder bag. Strange, considering Mr. Sonnel usually takes them from his desk drawer. Maybe substitutes are given their own supply each day. \n\nFinally the announcements finish, and she begins to distribute the pills. The pill almost rolls off my desk and I scramble to catch it, flattening it under my palm. I hadn't been expecting her to drop it like that. Mr. Sonnel usually hands me the pill directly. With a swig of water I swallow it down.\n\nImmediately I know that something is wrong. My head is spinning and grey-purple clouds edge my vision. I think that I'm about to pass out. Breathing heavily, I glance around the room. Emma, the second smartest girl, makes eye contact with me. Her face shows worry and a glimmer of panic but she says nothing. I follow her lead. \n\nAt the back of the class, Sam pipes up. \"I think the dose is wrong. I'm not feeling well,\" she complains. \n\nThe teacher is full of concern. \"A reaction to the pill?\" she asks. \"The side effects are well known but by now most people are tolerant. What's going on?\"\n\nSam refrains from answering but still looks unwell so the teacher sends her down to the office. I'm considering going with her but then, all at once, the symptoms stop altogether. A deep calm blankets my mind. I barely even notice that Sam doesn't return to class. Isn't she feeling better now, too? I wonder.\n\nWe spend the morning studying math and chemistry, and top of the class, I answer many questions as usual. I can tell the substitute likes me. I like her too. I am actually a big fan of all of my peers, I suddenly realize. \n\nLunch rolls around and I enter the cafeteria, sitting at the first available chair. I see my friends across the room but I'm here already so what does it matter? I'm usually shy but today I'm not anxious at all. I join the tenth graders in chatting about new movies. They invite me to see one next week.\n\nWhen I'm finished eating the mild but delicious cafeteria food, Emma wanders over to our table. \"Walk with me,\" she requests. \n\nStrolling the near-empty hallways I notice that Emma seems agitated. \"What's wrong?\" I inquire, having difficulty imagining anything being wrong on a day like today. \n\n\"Do you remember this morning,\" she says carefully. This morning, this morning… I'm having trouble remembering. A cold ache takes root in my chest. I feel as if I've forgotten something important. \"Mr. Sonnel's absence, and now Sam's?\" she prompts.\n\nAha! Everything clicks into place. The cold feeling washes away and I give Emma a grin. \"Yes, I remember now!\" I say. \"We had a reaction to the pill this morning! Sam, me, and presumably you.\" I wait for Emma's praise, utterly delighted in finding the right answer.\n\n\"Yes,\" she says, but in a tone that makes it sound like I am incredibly useless to her. \n\nI decide to ponder it further. Why would the pill be of interest to Emma? We take the pill every day. The pill's job is to make us calm and focussed. I am more calm and more focussed than I ever have been in my life. I am so very,very focussed on everything that the teacher puts before me. And even now, I am so very focussed on what Emma is trying to discuss. More focussed than EVER before. Lucky me, since we take the exact same pill for this purpose every single day. Every day, the same pill….\n\nExcept not today.\n\n\"Mr. Sonnel had placebo pills,\" I whisper. ", "Sitting in his dark apartment, no electricity, no job and no education. He thinks, why not miss a dose? In his mind he sees himself on national news, his body twitching as the SWAT team peppers it with lead. They would cut out to a wide angle establishing shot as the clean cut newscaster rattles off the number of dead. The message would be laid on thick, stay in school, take your dose or you'll end up like this looser. \n\nHe knows it's bullshit. He isn't making a choice. He ran out of doses yesterday and was too lazy to go down to the dispenser to get more.\n\nOutside the familiar sound of a police helicopter brings him back to his fantasy: instead of a SWAT team gunning him down as he exits a burning building it's the chain gun of a police helicopter as he races down the highway in a stolen car. No wait, a stolen Ferrari. With each pass his story gets fleshed out.\n\nIn a flash 6 hours have passed. He feels... he feels... apathy. The same depression that has cloaked him for the past several years pins him to his decrepit couch. His master plan to blow up the local pharmacy that was moments ago so real is now a broken dream. It's been relegated to the same space as his plans to go back to school, get a job, bang a supermodel.\n\nA passing police car's sirens wails in the growing dusk as his world collapses around him. Why isn't he possessed by a blood lust. Unless...\n\n \"Placebo\"\n\nIt's empowering. In a flash he knows a secret kept to all but a handful of men and women. He needs to tell the people; be a messiah. Make a fortune telling the story of how he put it all together again and again on countless talk shows and news programs. Build a series of self help books revolving around drug free living. His feet carry him out of his shitty apartment like they are possessed. \n\nPast the broken elevator: \"not long til I'm living in a fancy apartment with a whole bank of them, staring at my reflection in the freshly polished brass\" he says. Down the stairs and out the door, \"not long now\" he says.\n\nIt might be near midnight, but where he's standing it looks like midday.\n\n\"This is the police, we know you've missed your last few doses. Put your hands up slowly and we won't hurt you\" shouts the megaphone hidden somewhere behind the wall of armed officers.\n\nA bewildered look is all he can manage before the apartment complex behind his erupted in flames. Of course we knew he didn't take his dose, of course we were waiting outside his front door. Waiting for him to step out. Why?\n\nElementary, high school, a few years at a community college all at the government's expense. How much have we spent on him? $50,000? $100,000? All to get another broken drone incapable of repaying his debt to society. If he can't work to repay it, he will die too. He'll give his life to keep the kids in school, keep them taking their doses.\n\nShots ring out without warning. We were always going to edit a gun into his hand, it costs pennies more to add some beat cop yelling \"he's got a gun\".\n\nHe's bleeding out now, won't live long. The first person to get to him is the cameraman. Sticks a mic in the dying boy's face. Maybe. just maybe he'll say something worth repeating. \n\n\"...Placebo...\" He croaks. \n\nDumb kid. Should've stayed in school, should've taken his dose.\n\nEdit: wrote this on my phone, first post :P" ]	3
Additional challenge: Go for the unexpected! I know the scenario seems relatively normal; it's your typical natural disaster setting. I'm saying think outside the box in your approach.	[WP] Huge earthquake hits and your protagonist is stuck in traffic on some bridge.	[ "HONK!\n\n\"Move it, asshole!\"\n\nThe man in the car behind him continued to honk his horn and scream at him to move. Mike could do little more than look in his rear-view mirror at the red-faced maniac behind him. Mike could see that the man was screaming, but the sound was muffled by the loud hum of the air conditioner.\n\nTraffic had been backed up both ways on the Golden Gate Bridge since 8am, which was almost four hours ago. Mike had been turning the car on and off at half hours intervals to save gas. He looked down at his watch.\n\n\"Shit\" he mumbled. Mike reached out and turned the key to shut the car off. It had been a quick half hour, and he hardly felt any cooler. He rolled down his window and stuck his head out. The dry heat was almost unbearable. As his head hung out the window, Mike heard the man behind yelling out his window at some unfortunate schmuck in the next lane. He turned his head to look, and saw the red-faced man getting out of his car.\n\nOh boy.., Mike thought. Is this guy serious?\n\nHe saw the man reach into his back seat, pulling out an aluminum baseball bat. The man walked over to the person he had been yelling at. He took off his shirt, exposing a hairy beer belly and a chest tattoo of a sprawled out naked woman. The man began waving his arms, shouting obscenities at the other driver. In one swift motion, he brought his aluminum bat down onto the hood of the car with a loud thud. He continued to beat the car, smashing the headlights and passenger-side windows.\n\nAs the man walked back to his car, Mike heard him yell to the other driver, \"Piss me off again, and I'll bash your goddam head in!\"\n\nJust as the red-faced man got into his car, the earth began to quake. The entire bridge was swaying violently. Mike put his seat-belt on and gripped the steering wheel, holding on tightly. \n\nAs he looked down the line of cars, Mike saw the middle of the bridge collapse, falling down into the water while people screamed from their cars. He looked in his mirror, and everyone behind him must have seen it too, since everyone was getting out of their cars and running to get off the bridge. Mike unbuckled his seat-belt and got out of the car. \n\nAs he began to run, a violent spasm of the bridge threw Mike to his feet. He heard an impossibly loud cracking noise. Beneath the bridge, the earth was opening up, the waters of the San Fransisco Bay and the Pacific Ocean pouring into the chasm. \n\nLightning began to streak across the sky, several large bolts hitting the towers of the bridge. The sky turned blood red, and the lightning bolts were soon accompanied by the enormous fire balls that rained down from the heavens. \n\nMike stared in awe, unable to believe what was happening. \n\n\"Shit!\" he yelled. \"Shit shit shit!\" He got back up to his feet and began to run. \n\nOut of the chasm, the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse emerged, cloaked in tattered black robes, mounted upon skeletal steeds whose eyes burned with the fires of Hell. The Horsemen rose high into the air, and came back down upon the sinful so that they may be smitten. \n\nMiked booked it toward the end of the bridge. As he ran, he saw the red-faced man had tripped and fallen. Just as Mike turned to go help him, one of the Horsemen fell upon the man, it's ghostly sword swinging through the air. It held the man's head, then dropped it to the ground. The head rolled over to Mike's feet. He was stunned with fear. He watched helplessly as the Horseman rode toward him, ready to deliver heavenly justice for the sins of mankind. Mike closed his eyes. ", "The air conditioner was jammed, leaving Peter stuck in traffic in a humid pick-up truck, as he waited patiently to get to his job. It was 7:00 am on a scorching Wednesday, and Peter tapped his fingers on the side on his dashboard, wanting nothing more than to run out of his truck and get ahead of everybody. \"That would be idiotic\", he thought, as he watched sailboats glide gracefully under the Golden Gate Bridge. Growing restless, he turned the radio on, and tuned it to a random station. \n\n106.9 FM was just wrapping up a story about terrorist attacks in Egypt. \"After the bombing in Sohag, 15 are reported dead, 5 injured, and another 27 still missing. We will keep you updated on this throughout the day, but first, here's Ken Campbell with an update on the earthquake that hit right off of the coast of California.\" Peter raised his eyebrows, and turned the volume up. \"Well this is interesting\", he said out loud, pressing the gas pedal as he inched closer to his destination. \"Thank you Martha. That's right, the entire west coast should stay alert, as this specific tremor is the largest to occur in the past 17 years. It has also been a record-breaking week for just the sheer amount of quakes, as there have been over 430 and counting, with the majority of them falling along the San Andreas Fault.\" \"Now\", the original newscaster broke in,\"does this mean that citizens along the west coast should take shelter? Specifically those in areas like San Francisco and Oakland.\" \n\"Not necessarily\", he said,\"quakes this far off are rarely a cause for concern, but it could be a sign of more to come.\" \n\nThe car behind Peter honked it's horn, and as he poked his head out the window to see what the problem was, the first thing he noticed was that the suspension cables on the bridge were shaking. From inside the vehicle, he could hear the radio beginning to lose connection. \"This -chh- last 10 years -chhh- more and more of th -chhhh.\" He turned the knob a little to the right. \"ATTENTION! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY ANNOUNCMENT!\" the announcer blurted. \"A MAGNITUDE 8.5 EARTHQUAKE HAS BEEN DETECTED NEAR SAN FRANCISCO, I REPEAT!\" What started as a faint vibration began to pick up momentum, and Peter could hear an ominous rumble coming from under him. The car behind Peter honked it's horn again, and looking in his rear-view mirror, he could see that the driver was panicking. \n\n\"Get the hell off the bridge! Everybody get off or we'll die out here!,\" he heard, as a bald, stocky man in a red v-neck came sprinting out of nowhere. \"Get out of your cars! NOW, NOW, NOW!!!\" \"This is real\", Peter thought, \"We're doing this, this is really happening.\" Leaving all of his stuff behind except for his wallet and his phone, Peter jumped out of his car and began to rush to safety, running as fast as he could back to the other side of the bridge. He wasn't alone. Glancing to his side he saw a mother carrying her baby, and an african-american family, running hand in hand as one of their kids shouted out \"My BLANKET! I want my BLANKET!\" It only got worse, as one of the cables snapped in half and came whipping onto the road, breaking a car's windshield. Peter wasn't focused on that, though. Putting one foot in front of the other, he began to pick up speed. He wasn't nearly fast enough though, as part of the bridge collapsed thirty feet in front of him. There was only one option now. \n\nJump." ]	2
Some such things would be: What is a trip to the grocery store like? How have homes been improved? What is buying a home like? How are humans taught to deal with zombies existing but not overrunning us? What are new careers that parents would be proud for their kids to go in to?	[WP] The zombie apocalypse happened. The zombies have not yet been eradicated, but the population is at least controlled. Describe "normal" life.	[ "As I'm standing at the airport, I can't help but think of how strangely the past few years have gone by. I was 17 when the outbreak occurred, not even into my senior year of high school, and the world was already coming to an end. I remember thinking it was a joke when they announced it. It was October 13th, and the CDC interrupted all channels - including the newest episode of Catfish that I was watching - to confirm that yes, a virus capable of zombifying humans and reanimating dead tissue had been spreading throughout the contiguous United States, and other cases had been reported in Europe, Asia, South America, Canada, and Africa. They told us to not continue with our regularly scheduled programming, but to prepare for any emergency evacuation needed and to contact loved ones, if we could, and pray.\n\nFor a while, we thought it was the end. Maybe we had missed the rapture, and there were so few good people on earth that had been taken that we didn't notice, and this was the second wave. Extinction of the human race. Stores were looted, people freaked out, moved into the Mall like they'd seen in movies, set up safe houses, stockpiled weapons, suped their cars up to \"zombie killing\" status. But then we started to notice that it was a manageable situation. \n\nHonestly, if you could walk faster than say, 3 miles per hour, you'd be fine. That's why New York City hadn't really been affected. I heard a rumor once that one zombie made it's way into the Big Apple, but people kept breezing past him, till someone knocked him down, and then they just trampled him, and he died (well, re-died) from a stiletto heel through his frontal lobe as some businesswoman was on her way to work. Sure, there were isolated incidents of killings and bitings, etc., but it was fairly normal. \n\nThen the Government came on the horn. You see, after we all got used to the zombies, we were all like \"Okay, this is great, whatever, some guy is stumbling around outside my house and he wants to eat me but he doesn't exactly know what glass is so he's kind of just annoyingly hitting his face on my window, but I can deal. What are you guys going to do to stop them?\" and we waited for the Government's response. So we sat at our TVs and turned them up to drown out the thunk, thunk, thunk, of poor dead guy head against our window, and we waited for the plan. But you know what they said? \"You guys figure it out\".\n\nBRILLIANT PLAN Mr. President! Well, not in those exact words, but they told us they were letting the issue of zombie population control be handled by city and state governments. So that's what they did. \n\nI'm looking at the airport arrivals/departures board and I can't help think about how differently they all handled the situation. New York - There was a zombie apocalypse? Oh. Late for a meeting, gotta run! Boston - Zahmbies? Oh, yeah, killing them is wicked fun! We've got a police state here, basically. Detroit - .... Oh yeah, that's why it's written in red on this board. Detroit didn't really care to make a plan, they kind of just let it happen. No big loss.\n\nAt least my city handled it. You see, in New York state, Texas, Arkansas, Montana, Michigan (Minus Detroit), New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and about 17 other states, you can apply for a \"Zombie Hunting License\" at the age of 13. It works the same as basically every other hunting license but the quota is \"How many bullets can you carry on your person? That.\". Hunters head up to their local Rez Rez (Resurrected Reservation, because Americans are really good at putting things they don't like onto little plots of land) and start racking up head shots. I've heard it's quite relaxing.\n\nThe relaxing hunting, however, is only one of the first benefits to the zombie apocalypse. World hunger? World shmunger! When large amounts of the world can't eat something if it's not human flesh or grey matter, food surplus comes hand in hand. Gang violence? Guess who teamed up to help retake the city of Detroit from the zombies? The Crips, the Bloods, and local law enforcement! And, on a personal note, I get to attend one of the best private colleges in the state for next to nothing, because 45% of the Class of 2015, nationally, is off in pursuit of anther type of brains. Zombies are not quite eligible for scholarships.\n\nThat's life, I suppose. Living in the ending world. Where one's horror becomes another's benefit, as it always has. And with prices of airfare at their lowest since 1960, I am definitely grateful for the opportunity to go to Cali for spring break with my girlfriend on the cheap. Thanks, zombies!", "The class field trip to the battlements was going well. Mrs. Dunaway gestured towards the horizon, but she hardly needed to as her 9th graders all leaned against the side to take panorama photos of the spectacular view with their phones. The children didn't go outside much these days.\n\n\"Would anyone like to answer a bonus credit question? The bonus credit will go towards next week's quiz!\"\n\nA plethora of hands shot up. Good grades were needed to avoid being drafted into the Hunters. It was an honor, supposedly, to be chosen to be a Hunter, and the rigorous training improved one's physical health, at least for the short term, not to mention martial prowess and, on rare returns from Hunts, certainly the respect and admiration of your peers. But all the children, especially children of Hunters, knew how slim one's chances of survival were among the ranks of the Hunters. For a Hunter, death was not the worst fate.\n\n\"Zoe, why don't you take this one?\"\n\nThe mousy little girl was a late bloomer, having been the shortest girl in class just a year ago, but now her limbs were gangling and awkward, and she held her frame in a timid hunch ever since she sprouted. She had the look of a teenager who could one day grow to become a fair lady, but like an ugly duckling she would have to put up with the torments of the prettier girls in the class... for now.\n\n\"Alright Zoe, tell me: after an Infected has been bitten, what occurs?\"\n\n\"After the virus travels through the saliva, viral mutations occur in the bone marrow and the... uh... the thyroid gland! This decreases the ability to make certain proteins, and therefore the Infected have a need to consume human flesh. The changes to the thyroid increase hormonal production, causing rage and superhuman strength.\"\n\n\"Very good! Go on...\"\n\n\"When the virus progresses to the point where it has proliferated throughout the body it begins attacking the frontal lobe, slowly degrading the Infected's mind, and ability to control impulses. By the time the virus eats through the frontal lobe completely, the Infected is unable to commit to higher level thinking.\"\n\nZoe's voice had slowly lowered to a hoarse mumble. But Mrs. Dunaway could still hear her. Zoe was a bright one, but her father was a Hunter, and so the chances of her being drawn for Hunter's Duty when she came of age would be twofold greater. It was one of the reasons why Mrs. Dunaway chose her to answer the question.\n\n\"Very good Zoe! You get bonus points for next week's quiz. Would anyone else like to answer a question for bonus points? Julian?\"\n\nJulian was held back a year, not because he wasn't very bright, but simply because he refused to apply himself. He stared sullenly towards the forests which the battlements overlooked. He was a strong boy, blessed with natural physical gifts - broad shoulders and a lean frame - and of course that didn't bode well. Mrs. Dunaway knew that Julian loved Basketball in Junior High, but he never competed. No one dared join a sports team anymore, not unless they were suicidal. It was not as if you would have much time to play, anyway, before you were inducted into Hunter's Duty. The more you succeeded, the worse your odds.\n\nJulian didn't answer. He continued to stare at nothing in particular. The thunderous crack of a Hunter's rifle could be heard far in the distance.\n\nMrs. Dunaway sighed. It was no use.\n\n\"Charles?\"\n\n\"Yes, Mrs. Dunaway?\"\n\n\"Charles, could you tell me what the current estimates for population of Infected is?\"\n\n\"...\"\n\nCharles shifted his feet nervously. Poor Charles. Charles was the runt of the litter. Not very bright, but strong willed and with a kind heart, Charles tried his very best when confronted with challenge. But it wasn't enough.\n\n\"I... I don't know, Mrs. Dunaway.\"\n\nMrs. Dunaway smiled. How could she scold her class? When she knew the horrors that lay ahead for so many of them. Before the Cataclysm, when she was still just a very young woman starting her first job at a Catholic Prep School, oh how furious she could get at her kids! The lectures, the scolding! She was known as the \"Taskmaster\" for every time a student disobeyed her, she would punish them with extremely tedious tasks, like writing down the factors for every non-prime number up to 1,000 in a little chart. She would get so stressed out over the smallest things - gum chewing, nasty names, class disruption - but after the Cataclysm, children rarely disobeyed, and teachers were rarely perturbed. Everyone was forced to mature a lot faster these days.\n\n\"That's okay Charles.\"\n\nCharles was on the verge of tears. Stuttering, he said \"I... I'm s... sorry, Muh... Muh... Mrs... D... Dunaway.\"\n\nNo one laughed. No children laugh anymore.\n\nMrs. Dunaway put a gentle hand on Charles' heaving shoulder. \"It's okay, It's okay.\" She whipped out a small chocolate, her secret weapon after twenty years of teaching, and placed it in Charles' palm. Immediately the red-haired boys eyes lit up. Treats were rare these days. All measures were made to keep the population as fit for fighting as possible and things like chocolates were rationed... severely.\n\nBut of course, as small as the chocolate was, Charles began breaking it into little pieces, to share. Charles was a good boy like that. Mrs. Dunaway was glad she had at least three more years with these children.\n\nShe looked back at the class.\n\n\"The Cataclysm happened before all of you were born\", she began, \"It may seem quite extraordinary but there were over 9 billion people on Earth when it occurred!\"\n\nThe class held rapt attention. The world before the Cataclysm was mythical to them. Almost a fairy tale.\n\n\"We've stabilized now at a population of 500 million, scattered across stronghold cities across the globe. So who's ready to do some quick math?\"\n\nEvery single little hand shot up.\n\n\"Alexa?\"\n\nAlexa was blonde and fair, the most popular girl in the class. And she had a bit of a mean streak too, but since the last year or two, since the children all learned about the Hunter's Draft when they came of age, she had become much more diplomatic, if still as manipulative as ever. Alexa wasn't Mrs. Dunaway's favorite student, but then again a teacher's duty was to her students, no matter what.\n\n\"My father told me that over half the population died during the first months of the Cataclysm-\", Alexa bit her lip and cast her eyes downward, \"-but then came the Hunters.\"\n\n\"That's right, Alexa.\" Mrs. Dunaway continued, \"For the next ten years, ever since the Hunter's Legions were established, we fought-\" she was lucky, Mrs. Dunaway, having graduated magna-cum-laude at Amherst, and then receiving her Masters in Education at Harvard, she was one of the few who wasn't chosen for Hunter's Duty. Still, the years had taken their toll, and even though she was only in her mid forties, Mrs. Dunaway's hair had all gone completely white.\n\n\"-and the Hunters, they won?\" It was Julian. He had turned from the battlements, and now locked his cold, grey gaze directly at Mrs. Dunaway's green eyes. His voice was laced with acidic irony when he said this.\n\nMrs. Dunaway composed herself, and spoke solemnly \"No, Julian. The war rages on. But we're alive. Humanity is still alive. And we have men like your father to thank.\"\n\nJulian cast his gaze downward in sadness.\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] A group of scientists conclusively prove that our 'reality' is in fact, a simulation.	[ "\"Millhouse it seems as though we are in fact, in a simulation!\" cried out Poindexter who was so excited that even his boils seemed to turn a darker shade of crimson\n\n\"Preposterous!\" cried out Millhouse\n\n\"Get a hold of yourself!\" Poindexter grabbed Millhouse by his checkered bowtie that his mother had chosen for him a few days ago\n\n\"Impossible!\" Millhouse choked as Poindexter's grip tightened around his neck\n\n\"My God man, do you see the ramifications of such a discovery! We must share this with our fellow scientist geniuses at once!\" Poindexters hands seemed to pull harder at Millhouse's bowtie with every word\n\n\"Mghfhgfmgh\" Millhouse gurgled", "It was liberating.\n\nThe lives, the deaths, the stress and challenges of our lives were part a simulation for all humans. Nothing more.\n\nThe news was shocking to some. Instantaneously, you would know if the person was psychologically disturbed. Normal people were almost always relieved or curious about the simulation--but the crazy ones couldn't handle the news.\n\nMaybe they wanted something more. Maybe they were jealous of God. \n\nSam told us he had been looking for instructions from God his entire life, and then God told him it didn't matter.\n\nThat was before he became our apocalyptic psychopomp. The power struggle in the aftermath of the revelation triggered a violent uprising, and Sam made it to the top of the world by acquiring a huge arsenal. He stormed the national government.\n\nBefore launching the nuclear missiles, he said:\n\n\"God should have given me a manual.\"", "Oddly enough, when the story hit the papers, streaked across the front page in big bold print, it wasn't panic or fear that gripped people. In fact, people were surprisingly accepting and complacent of the notion. It was like something they always knew; an old memory that had been replaced with the rest of their life.\n\nNo, the biggest change in everyone was an intense curiosity, a thought as potent and transforming as the headline, \"Well if life is a simulation, then who has the high score?\". \n\nA strong yearning flared up in every man and woman; to leave their watermark on the computer they lived in, to make some part of circuitry that fueled them all show that they, and only they, were the best at some statistic. It was the only way they could truly exist.\n\nSo artists created art, pouring the vacuum of their soul into every medium, creating bold masterpieces that expanded into uncharted creativity. Scientists dug away at the walls of their computing, achieving great progress and ushering in golden age technologies. \n\nWars ceased. People were ashamed of the brutality of their past. Seeing that they fell into their into weakness and destroyed each other, they vowed collectively that they would not fail. As strong as their thirst for greatness, was a fear that failure meant obscurity. Just another failed test subject.\n\nThus mankind was still full of fears and hopes, but that was when man changed to truly achieved greatness. Because, God does exist, and he's grading you.", "\"Are you absolutely certain that it's in our best interest to do this?\" Michael asked, standing at the control panel. He was fully aware of the possible ramifications of this moment, as he was sure everyone in the room was as well. Scientists and news agencies from across the world had gathered here for this experiment. But with an event in human history of this magnitude, only double- and triple-checking your work was considered recklessly inadequate, and this was the final step. The basis of all human evolution and technological developments is the desire to learn and to adapt to the information. Knowledge is the ultimate power, and the pursuit of it is an inevitability. There's always going to be someone asking the questions. \n\nBut sometimes, the answers change everything.\n\nSome things you can't un-learn.\n\nImagine for a moment: Human civilization evolves for millennia, and our technology grows exponentially along side it. Computer simulations are an integral part of the world; from weather forecasts to architectural design to future astronomical predictions, being able to simulate the physical world around us gives us knowledge that better prepare us for the future. \n\nTechnology advances on an exponential scale; Moore's law all but guarantees it. Computer power doubles every two years. In the early stages of computing, simulations were limited to small interactions and took days to process. But every two years, more processing power meant we could simulate more complex scenarios, and the evolution of artificial intelligence and physics engines means those simulations became more and more accurate. \n\nThis evolution rapidly increases until the present day, when simulating, for example, the movement of the Earth's tectonic plates or the migration patterns of bird populations in real time doesn’t sound all that absurd.\n\nNow imagine if you extrapolate that data out into the distant future. Is it out of the realm of possibility that the simulations we would be able to run then could simulate, down to the atomic level, an entire planet, teeming with life? Or an entire galaxy? Or an entire universe? The mathematical answer is that it is not only possible, it is inevitable. \n\nAs unfathomably large as the universe that we live in is, everything is still made up of atoms. As uncalculatably large as the number of atoms in the universe is, it still is a number, finite just like the rest of them. So computing power will increase until, at some point, it can simulate that many atoms and their interactions. And that means at one point in the very distant future, an advanced civilization of humans will be able to simulate the entire universe, from the giant supernovae down to the smallest micro-organism and beyond.\n\nAnd then two years after that point, computer power doubles again. \n\nAnd suddenly, the simulation can run a simulation of it’s own. Two years after that, it can run 4 universes, all nested within each other. The amount of simulations possible doubles alongside computing power, and in just 100 short years, the number of simulations possible is in the billions.\n\nSo if there is only one real universe and billions and billions of simulated ones, what are the odds that we live in the one true reality?\n\nThe odds are against us.\n\n“Michael, the amount of funding and research that has gone into this project is too much to just be abandoned at the last possible moment,” said John, a little too much contempt in his voice. He’d headed up the project to build the most power electron microscope ever conceived, and combined with a state-of-the-art particle accelerator, would attempt to try to reveal the “resolution” of the universe. The mathematics behind the idea are understandably complex, but it comes down to a very simple fact: The ‘real’ world wouldn’t have a resolution. Simulations would, and attempt to measure things small enough and you will eventually find it. \n\nKnowing our entire existence was a fabrication was a possibility that could lead any number of ways. It’s possible that nobody would understand or care and life would continue as normal. It’s also possible that nuclear war could spark if all it took was one unstable world power thinking it all didn’t matter anyways. A fiery end to the civilizations of the world and the possible death of all humanity was possible at stake. John understood the implications very well, and was tired of Michael’s constant are-you-sure-ing throughout the years of development that he had given to this project.\n\n“I just want to be sure this is information that the world is ready for.” Michael said quietly. He had resigned himself to the fact that the project would continue on regardless of his stance on the matter, but he still made meager attempts to ensure everyone knew what was at stake.\n\nHe turned the key and flipped the switch, and machinery all around them sparked to life, humming in increasing frequencies and building up to an anti-climactic pop as the particle accelerator fired.\n\nAn agonizing minute went by as the electron microscope processed and calculated it’s findings. Michael broke out into a cold sweat as the clock ticked by, while John cooly stared at the monitor, waiting for the results. The attending flock of scientists and media crowded silently behind them.\n\nThe monitor flickers and shows the outcome of it’s calculations:\n\nERROR: Resolution limit reached. Unable to measure beyond .0125672 planck lengths\n\nThe room fell absolutely silent for what seemed like an hour as everyone in attendance struggled to accept what they were seeing.\n\n“Holy mother of god” Michael uttered finally, mouth agape, cold chills surging through his body. It’s true!\n\nThe room explodes in a flurry of hushed, frantic conversations and fingers hammering away at keyboards. Wide eyed news reporters struggle to find the words to explain to the camera the implications of what they now know to be true. The entire world will know in a matter of hours, Michael thought.\n\nWhat have we done?" ]	4
	[WP] A global important vaccine turns out to have a horrible side effect	[ "It was two hours since I got the vaccine at the hospital. They said I might be a bit dizzy if my body reacts badly to it but I didn’t think it would feel like this. My chest felt strange. Tingling all over my chest. What was going on, was there something wrong with my heart? No no that couldn’t be I’m in perfect health without any heart problems in the family. Is this cause of the vaccine? I headed towards the bathroom and unbuttoned my shirt. My nipples were hard and my entire chest saw red. Damn, what in the hell was going on here? Maybe I should contact my doctor. I went towards the living room to pick up my phone from the table. As I was dialing the number I thought “A doctors visit is expensive, maybe I’m just imagining stuff. If it stays like this after a good night sleep I’ll call.”\n\nAfter a good night sleep my alarm went off. I got up and my shirt felt a little tight. I looked at the mattrass, maybe it was just caught behind my sheets but no not at all. I was reminded of the weird tingling in my chest yesterday and was glad that the tingling was gone. I really must have imagined it. I headed to the bathroom to get changed. I passed the mirror and for a quick second I thought I saw something strange. I backtracked and I couldn't believe my own eyes. This was impossible, I was just dreaming. I mean I’ve had dreams like this before so it wasn't that strange. C’mon just wake up and everything will be back to normal. But I didn't wake up.\n\nWas this reality? No no this couldn't be. I glanced down and I no longer could see my feet. This was reality. I had hoped of this happening one day but never did I actually expect it to happen. Overnight I’ve grown breasts. Quickly my hand went down into my shorts. Everything was still normal there. So I didn’t end up as a girl completely just a pair of breasts. But how was this possible. This couldn't be real could it? I pinched them and felt no pain. This was strange, I should feel pain if they are real right? So am I still dreaming? But never was I this aware in a dream ever before. I headed to the living room. I shouldn’t be able to move this freely and deliberately if it was a dream. \n\nI turned on the Tv just as the news was on. “And in recent news the vaccine Alinepro has had some very strange side effects. Many people injected with this new vaccine have been reported to have massive swelling on parts of their body. Anyone with this symptom will have to report to the local hospital for proper treatment.” I was filled with relief and sadness, I had hoped to have grown breasts but it was just unusual swelling. Oh well atleast now I know what to do, I should head to the hospital after a shower.\n\nI went back to the bathroom and checked myself out again in the mirror. Its a damn shame that these aren't real. Cause I look quite good with them. I let the water run so it would be warm enough for me. After a few seconds the water was heated up enough and I jumped under. The warm water running over my body was great, the tiredness left my body.\n\nAs the water was running over my body my chest started feeling strange. As if someone had sent a hundred needles into the swelling. Maybe because I pinched it earlier? I didn't pay much attention until I saw that the water started turning green around my feet. I stepped from under the water and looked at the stream, it looked normal so how could it be green. I looked down to my chest. From the swelling I could see something coming out. Something poked its head out. With it a whole bunch of green slimey goo started seeping from the swelling. What the hell? My head started feeling light. I have to get out, call an ambulance. Before I knew it a sharp pain ran through my body as I saw strange tentacles coming out of the swelling on my chest.\n\nThe tentacles lunged at my head. I could see them going straight for my eyes. As they pierced through I stumbled down on my knees. The pain was unbearable, I could feel myself slipping away. Death was imminent….\n\nCritique and comments are welcome!", "I couldn't believe it. They discovered a cure! The suffering has ravaged us for years. The effects were so great that nations banded together in order to have the best and brightest work on a vaccine. Finally, after years and years one was available to not just the richest and most powerful but to anyone who desired it.\n\nThe news reporters said that they vaccine would be transported to major cities and then make its way out. My town should be receiving its first batch in approximately a week. I couldn't wait.\n\nAs the days counted down I noticed something. People seemed to care less. I couldn't quite explain it. Places that used to be hubs of activity like New York or London had become far more peaceful and quiet. It was almost like people just had nothing left to say. I scoured the internet in hopes that my suspicions were incorrect. I wanted someone to speak out and express themselves but I could't find anything. Until I stumbled upon a conspiracy site. \n\nThese people said that the vaccine didn't prevent the suffering it just made you stop caring. People were in a permanent haze. The drug told their minds that everything was okay and that there was no reason to speak out. No one was saved; they were silenced. \n\nThe vaccine was coming to my town tomorrow. The news was saying that it was mandatory. The government feared that people who did not receive the vaccine could cause a mutation to arise that would endanger everyone. For the world's safety, everyone had to get it. I had to run. I can't risk losing my mind to be falsely protected. Maybe the conspiracy site was wrong but I wasn't taking that chance. \n\nI packed a bag and left in the middle of the night. The site said that colonies were starting to form in the mountains. A rebellion. I couldn't believe it." ]	2
	[WP] Someone obeys the voices in their head. The voices were right, but to everyone else it is a textbook case of schizophrenia.	[ "In the heart of forensic psychiatric institutions there exist rooms within rooms. These rooms have portholes around the outside, cameras embedded in the walls and padding on the curved walls. In these PICUs (psychiatric intensive care units) they give high dose intramuscular anti psychotics. They then place people in the chambers until the drugs have had an effect, dragging them out and upping the dose again and again until satisfaction is achieved. This was my third time in and out, the drugs were starting to take an effect. \n\n\"They don't believe you do they?\"\n\nOf course not, you know that.\n\n\"I'm sorry I got you into this.\"\n\nI know\n\n\"It had to be tried, I'm sorry\"\n\nAliens trying to take over the world...... trans-dimensional messaging....... have to warn people that their promises of peace are lies.......resist\n\n\n\n\"Your species are different to ours, we assumed you would be believed, we assumed too much\"\n\nI press the call button and the nurse came to the window, this was the fifth day in the tank. \n\n\"I can still hear them, please make it stop\" I sobbed pathetically\n\nShe walked away smiling, the medications were obviously starting to work she thought, he is regaining insight.\n\n\"We will leave you alone now, we have failed and soon the fleet will be there, goodbye John\"\n\nDay seven and the doctors and nurses are patting each other on the back, just the right doses and now the voices are gone. Interesting case they say, isolated psychotic break, very acute, very severe, so detailed and resolving so quickly. They say they are going to publish me as a case study, thank God the voices stopped.", "Stop!\n\n\"Gah!\" I jerked myself backwards as the red convertible sped right past me. \"Holy shit that was close. Learn to fucking drive you dumbass!\"\n\nI looked around and noticed everyone staring at me as if I were some crazy grandpa. Shit it happened again, I thought to myself. Why do they keep giving those looks?\n\n\"Whoever said that, thanks. You saved my life.\"\n\nMore weird glances and stares were directed at me. A confused look came across this one old lady's face. I approached her and asked, \"ma'am, did you not hear that?\"\n\n\"Hear what? Get the hell away from me you psycho,\" she yelled as she whacked my leg with her walking stick.\n\n\"You didn't hear that? Did anyone else hear it?\" I started to walk up to others with the same question.\n\n\"Hey did you hear that?\"\n\n\"Did you?\"\n\n\"Did you-\" Right as I was about to finish, someone called my name.\n\nI turned around and saw my wife running towards me.\n\n\"Brad! Where have you been all afternoon?\" She had a worried look on her face.\n\n\"I was just taking a walk and then this car almost hit me! And oh, someone screamed at me to stop and saved my life!!\" I replied excitedly.\n\nShe took my hand and pulled me towards her. As I followed along, she turned and apologized to everyone around us.\n\n\"It's okay, my father has the same disease.\" A mid-aged man said. He smiled at me as I walked by. \"Try not to be bothered by those random voices in your head and you'll be just fine.\"\n\n\"Random voices? That voice just saved my life!\"\n\nMy wife hurried me out. Her face was red, and I could tell that I had made a scene.\n\n\"I'm so sorry honey. I really didn't mean-\"\n\n\"It's fine. Just come home and I'll make you some tea.\"", "She is, though. And you know it. \n \n\"Yeah, well, thanks for the heads up. Maybe you could have warned me sooner.\" \n \nTold you as soon as I noticed. \n \n\"Maybe you've got the attention span of a goldfish swimming in Red Bull, you ever think of that?\" \n \nThat was hurtful, man. That cut deep. \n \n\"No, it didn't. You have to be deep to get cut deep, clown.\" \n \nGet out your phone, grab it grab it grab it \n \nA cough, delicate but definitely faked to draw my attention, did its job from across the aisle. I glanced over, and for the third time today regretted having an entire large box full of random crap in my cubicle - the first and second, of course, being having to clean out said cubicle, and having to find said box. The girl clearing her throat at me was that kind of girl, though. The kind that makes you regret decisions like calling your boss the names she actually deserves (and subsequently losing your job), or setting your box of office debris in the seat next to you on your bus ride home, denying yourself the chance that she might sit there. She was in the aisle seat - no way she'd have been able to fit legs that long into a window seat on this crappy bus, and darn sure not in a skirt that short. I smiled weakly and waggled my phone at her, trying to offer an explanation for talking to \"myself\". Her annoyance began to fade- \n \nSHIT MUTE MUTE MUTE THE \n \nThe phone buzzed in my hand, betraying my deception with a miniature klaxon and flashing red light. The annoyance returned, squinting up blue eyes I could have sailed across and sharpening cheekbones that didn't need the help, and she turned away, tucking in an earbud with a dismissive finality. I sighed and hit Answer. \"I'm sorry. Did I forget to sign one of the write-ups? I promise, I don't really care.\" \n \n\"DUDE! Did you really call Mrs. Hallimann a nuclear-powered, weapons-grade c-\" \n \n\"Yes! Yes, please, stop repeating it. I have no idea what came over me-\" \n \nOoh, ooh, I know! ME! \n \n\"-but since it got me fired, I'm not too keen on hearing it repeated ad nauseam, thank you.\" \n \n\"I don't even think I've ever heard you curse, dude. I can't even imagine. Can I buy you a beer? I want to buy the guy who said that to his own COO a beer.\" \n \nYou're going to argue. I can feel it. Don't. It's not like you have work in the morning. Oh- Switch seats with the box. Get in the aisle seat. \n \n\"... Thanks.\" And there's the fourth time I'm regretting this box - just having it on this crowded bus is awkward enough, but kneeing the back of the seats in front of me just to switch places with it isn't making me any friends. \n \n\"Great, dude! I'll pick you up - guess not buying that new car was a good idea, huh, dude? Anyway. I'll pick you up around 8, okay?\" \n \nHey, this is your stop! Screw the box, you don't need that junk. Just grab the keyboard, those mechanical ones in the metal casings are expensive. \n \nDang, there she goes. Hey, I guess this is as good a stop as any, they're only a block or two apart on this street. \n \n\"Dude? 8?\" \n \n\"Oh, sure. Yeah. 8 is fine.\" Darn, some guy in a trenchcoat, of all things, just stood up behind her. It's June, guy, and you're blocking my view. I was only even getting off here to watch... wait... this isn't even my- \n \nhit him hit him hit him HIT HIM HIT HIM HIT HIM HITHIMHITHIMHITHIMHITHIM \n \nThe metal keyboard made a truly disgusting thwock as it collided with the back of Trenchcoat's head. His arms splayed out to both sides as he crashed between the seats. Something heavy, flung from his now boneless grip, cracked a window and fell into a little old lady's lap. Miss Blue Eyes spun around - an impressive feat, in those heels - and pierced me with that gaze for a moment before looking down at Trenchcoat. \"Oh, my God. Steve?\" I could have listened to that voice all day, for a change, but the little old lady with the busted window had other plans and, apparently, a missed opportunity as a bipedal tornado siren. \n \n\"GUN! GUN! Oh GOD oh GOD get it off me GUN! GUN!\" The ugly chunk of metal in her lap tumbled to the floor. The one in my hands, now bent in the middle, stared up at me, a trace of blood on one corner. \n \nThe word immediately picked up around the bus. Trenchcoat was packing? What? Wait. Did I just... save the girl? \n \nTell her you saw the gun when he stood up, and you had to do something.\n \nI glanced up from the keyboard to a perfectly stunning view - Miss Blue Eyes, squatted down in the middle of the bus aisle, bent forward looking at Trench- er, 'Steve'. The red bra peeking out from between the buttons of her blouse didn't match her eyes at all, but it darn sure matched the panties her skirt wasn't hiding any more. \"He's unconscious, but he's alive. I didn't even know he was out of prison! Ohmigod, ohmigod.\" She looked up at me. Shock and gratitude fought in her eyes, and I lost. \"I - uh...\" \n \nTell her! Shit, say something! Tell her you got up to ask her for her number and then you saw the guy with the gun! \n \n\"I can't believe it. I think you saved my life! You're amazing! How did you know?\" Even in her condition, her voice was Kryptonite. \"I. I, uh - \" \n \nCome on! Say anything! Tell her your name! Tell her your life story! Tell her why you're holding a keyboard! Shit, tell her you were trying to imagine her naked and ol' Steve just got in the way, come on- \n \nThat tears it. \"I am NOT going to tell the prettiest woman I've ever seen that I just cracked some guy's skull for blocking my view of her ass!\" \n \n... \n \n\"That was out loud, wasn't it.\" \n \nYep. \n \n\"I'm going to jail, aren't I.\" \n \nProbably. \n \n\"I, uh...\" \n \nI have to carry you everywhere. EVERYWHERE. Repeat after me. I think- \n \n\"I think-\" \n \nI'm going- \n \n\"I'm going-\" \n \n-into shock. \n \n\"-into sh-\" \n \nI woke up on my back, with a paramedic pushing air into my mouth through a little plastic mask. He helped me sit up on the stretcher, asking me some questions - what day is it, how many fingers, what's your name. It was a little difficult to pay attention, though, with Miss Blue Eyes walking up behind him. \n \nSay yes. \n \nThe paramedic tried to keep my attention, but he'd lost that battle before he even got here. She sounded... sarcastic. \"The prettiest woman you've ever seen, huh?\" \n \nI didn't need help with that one, thanks. \"Yes.\" \n \nShe handed me a Post-it, one that I immediately recognized from the stash of office clutter I'd tried to jettison on the bus, an eon ago. The digits inked on it were a welcome addition, though. \"When they let you out of the hospital, give me a call.\" \n \nSay- \n \n\"Yes.\" \n \nWait. Shit. Where's the phone?", "The knock on the door coupled with the sirens outside worried John. John tells Alex to stay calm, because everything will be alright. Alex knows that that's not true, but before he's able to say that to John, the banging on the door grows louder, with more force.\n\n\"Alex, open the door! It's Leighann! I just want to talk to you about something! Please let me in!\" she yelled. The voice didn't sound like Leighann. It had the tone of her voice, but it didn't sound as pleasant, nor was it as inviting.\n\n\"Coming, sister,\" Alex lied. He took another peek outside of his window, and John told him to brace himself. The banging on the door became frantic. Suddenly, the door slammed open. Alex lay on his bed, curled up into a ball. This wasn't his fault. Everyone told him it was, but he knew that it wasn't. Leighann knew it wasn't either, but she wasn't going to stand up. She had always been the weaker of the two. A woman who obviously wasn't Leighann stepped through the door, along with two SWAT team members. He remained motionless on his bed, still curled up, while the SWAT members proceeded to pick him up and carry him out of his apartment. The last he ever saw of his apartment was the SWAT team carry all of his belongings out of it, one by one, as his heart slowly died with them.\n\nHe was taken to a humongous penitentiary-like building on the outskirts of the town where he lived. He had always been somewhat curious about the giant building right near his apartment, but had never taken much notice to it. It's one hell of a coincidence, he always though to himself to ease the thought that it might be there for a reason. Once taken inside, he was walked through a hallway of inmates, screaming for help. They looked like they were suffering from the same thing he was: voices in their head telling them things that had really happened. One cried \"I knew 9/11! I KNEW IT!\" while one sat criss-cross, leaning from side to side, droning monotonously \"I didn't do it, I didn't do it, it wasn't me, I didn't do it...\"\n\nHe was quickly escorted to a cell which was seemingly larger than any of the others. A man stood, facing him, with a condescending grin and piercing green eyes, resembling a tiger ready for the kill. Is it really him? Alex wondered. \"Hello, Alex.\" It is him. It's John.\n\n\"Now, Alex, tell me about yourself,\" John said. Alex kept his stoic facial expression, and didn't respond. The tension in the room grew with each second that Alex didn't speak, and without warning the SWAT members standing beside the man pointed their guns at Alex, as if forcing him to speak.\n\n\"My name is Alex Markensen. I am 34 years old. I worked at and ran a bakery in Hell's Kitchen for three years until I moved, and began living in my apartment in Minneapolis. My parents' names are Eva and Dennis Markensen. My sister, Leighann, is 5 years younger than me. She began law school when she was 24. I have not seen her since.\"\n\n\"Funny that you say that, Alex, because our files here,\" he took out a manila folder, with official-looking documents inside of it, \"indicate that your sister is only 12, and that your parents' names are Erin and Keith.\"\n\nAlex changed his attitude for a moment. \"You're lying to me, and I know it,\" he replied with certainty.\n\nThe man handed him three papers, which were all documents containing profiles of each of the three family members he had mentioned. They all seemingly proved that what the man said was correct. Alex stared down at his feet, not wanting to show that the man had gotten to him.\n\n\"Now, Alex, we've been hearing from various people that were close to you that you've been hearing a voice in your head, and that he claims his name to be John.\"\n\n\"That's correct,\" Alex droned, still staring down at his feet.\n\n\"Well, we've gotten several accounts from other patients saying similar things have been happening to them, and according to them, they also heard a voice named 'John'. Do you know why this might be?\"\n\n\"No, why would I?\"\n\nThe guards next to the man pointed their guns towards him.\n\n\"I think you do,\" the man replied, cracking his fingers.\n\n\"Are you accusing me for what's been happening? Listen, I have no clue how John has any knowledge of the events that have been occurring! I just hear him, and he tells me that they're going to happen. If I had done it, why would I save all of those people? I mean--\"\n\n\"Like the bombing in Beijing?\"\n\n\"But he--\"\n\n\"And the sarin attack at LaGuardia?\"\n\n\"But--\"\n\n\"Not to mention the nuclear bombing in San Francisco...\"\n\nAlex finally stared up, tears in his eyes.\n\n\"I didn't ask for any of this to happen!\" he yelled. \"All I wanted was some peace and quiet after the divorce, but all of a sudden I started hearing voices! I just assumed it was some acute form of PTSD, until the incidents started to happen and I heard about them all before they occurred! And they were in your voice!\"\n\n\"Well, since I am the president of the United States, you may have heard my voice on television, and associate--\"\n\n\"But it was you! It didn't sound like how you speak during speeches, it sounded like how you're talking right now! And I could hear it like there was a speaker in my ear, not how schizophrenic people would hear it! I swear!\"\n\nThe facetious grin faded from the man's face, and he snapped his fingers. A hologram of a young girl showed up.\n\n\"Please, Alex, you have to help!\" the girl shouted. \"They're making me y--\" Before she could continue, she was cut off by a SWAT team member putting his hand over her mouth and abruptly silencing her as she attempted to scream through the hand.\n\nThe man snapped again, and the hologram disappeared.\n\n\"That was Leighann. But she was younger...you--you changed her! You did this!\"\n\n\"She has always looked like this, Alex. And if you don't confess, I'm afraid you won't ever be able to see her face again.\" The rifles were pointed closer towards Alex. He hesitated. He was about to shout for help, but realized that this was a government monitored building, and nobody who was outside of bars in their right mind would respond. He continued to stare, plain-faced, at the man, and no matter how close the guns got, he remained the same. The man finally shouted \"That's it, take him to the ECR with his sister!\" \n\nHe was taken into a gigantic room, about the size of an entire house, which only held two chairs. Two electric chairs. Alex would have done something, but he was unable to move in the straitjacket. In one electric chair sat Leighann, sobbing, with the glove still placed over her mouth. She was not the Leighann that he knew: she was only twelve years old. Maybe he had been imagining everything, and his life was a lie. Only more of a reason to let myself die, he thought. He jumped towards her, only realizing afterwards that he could do nothing to save her. They placed him in his chair, and he spat in the guard's face. The guard simply wiped it off and walked away. The man was nowhere to be seen, but there was a one-way window parallel to him and Leighann. Alex heard John again all of a sudden, whispering \"You're screwed. You have nothing and no one to help you. No one likes you anyway.\" It was the man who had talked to him in the other room's voice, he was sure of it. It had always been his voice...right? He had no time to ponder this thought, because he was too distracted by the combination of his sister's muffled screams and the guard's attempts to shut her up. Eventually, he heard a noise that sounded like something powering up. He knew that it was starting. But oddly enough, it stopped. And he heard a gunshot noise behind the one-way window. And for some reason, right when he heard it, the man holding Leighann's mouth collapsed. He saw an electric flickering from his head, and there was a hole right near, just about big enough for a pistol bullet.\n\nThe ropes holding Leighann and Alex down loosened somehow, and Leighann ran towards Alex, hugging him. \"Oh god, Alex, they're making me younger!\" she cried, \"I don't know how to stop it!\"\n\n\"They lied to me. I knew it.\"\n\n\"We need to get out of here,\" Leighann exclaimed, who, now that Alex noticed it, looked like she was getting younger by the second. Alex picked up the rifle and shot down the window.\n\n\"Let's go--\" before Alex could finish, a bullet went straight through his head. Leighann whimpered, and went into the corner. Standing in the room behind the window were John, holding a magnum, and a few other people who looked like co-workers of his. She shouted for him to not kill her, and he put the gun down. \"Go now.\" he muttered. She ran, but he took her for a second and injected her with a needle full of an orange substance. She suddenly grew back to her normal height, and appeared her actual age again. She ran away, faster than she ever had.\n\n\"John, why did you postpone the project? And-and why did you kill him?\" one of the men standing next to the man asked him.\n\n\"He wasn't the one we were looking for. He was too believable. As for why I killed him: it would have become anarchy if our project was leaked. And don't refer to me as John. You are not my equal.\"\n\n\"Yes, Mr. President.\"\n\n\"Looks like we'll have to find a new scapegoat. Poor guy. He knew it was me talking, but nobody believed him. Shame,\" He claimed sarcastically.\n\nJohn tapped into the microphone.\n\n\"Hello? Can you hear me?\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" a woman replied. \"Am I hearing things?\"\n\n(Sorry that it was so long, if you read the entire thing then bravo)\n\n" ]	4
	[WP] You discover a popular Reddit thread where a father confesses to experimenting on his son/daughter for the CIA. One tiny detail helps you figure out the guinea pig is you, and it explains your strange power.	[ "\"I have been doing experiments for the CIA on my son since he was 2, AMA\"-JHunter11\n\nHey look, a guy with a similar username as me. This seems interesting. I clicked on it and read the details.\n\n\"So, it's true. I am a terrible father. My son was 2 when he started. He escaped at 18, although I'm not sure he remembers. The drugs we put him on had a side effect of giving him amnesia if his powers became too powerful. And he had a rage attack when he escaped. So amnesia may have taken his body.\n\nHe has a form of telekinesis as well as a power known as \"soul sucker\". It essentially takes a charge and then he can throw the ball of energy and poof the thing he threw the ball at is gone. \n\nEdit: Proof- [http://i.imgur.com/r956fmQ.gif](http://i.imgur.com/r956fmQ.gif)\" \n\n(just a little joke for you guys, not part of the story)\n\nHuh, that picture looks remarkably like my baby picture. I went to go grab my baby scrapbook. I compared faces, he was identical. Right down to the birthmark. Oh my god, I can't believe this. I sent him a PM.\n\n\"Josh, is that you?\" A message I received an hour later.\n\n\"Yes, I think you're my dad. Where have you been?\" I responded.\n\n\"Well, looking for you. You disappear constantly and the CIA hasn't told me jack. I think they know your whereabouts.\" He replied.\n\n\"Well, I don't think you should care about that. I just wanted you to know I'm safe. I think I can support myself.\" I replied.\n\n\"But, I need to see you. You don't understand, I'll lose you again if you don't let me see you. I might actually have a cure for the amnesia.\" He replied.\n\n\"Huh, maybe... drop by for a visit. I live in (insert any random address here) 4th floor apartment #9.\" I replied.\n\nThe door was kicked down. I turned and 5 guns were pointed at me. A man talked into a walkie-talkie, \"We got him sir, awaiting orders.\" \n\n\"Hold up, you have the wrong guy.\" I pleaded.\n\n\"No, he's lying. On his computer he's talking to his father.\" A man in black said behind me.\n\n\"That's a lie. That guy is crazy.\" I said.\n\n\"You're done kid. We're taking you into government custody.\" The man said.\n\n\"No you're not!\" I screamed. Suddenly they were floating in the air, pinned against the roof. I waved my hand and purple energy started forming. I charged it up and threw it at the man in black. He disappeared. I smirked, and made all the men disappear. I took my phone, wallet, and a hat and left. As I walked out, it seemed like every gun in the world was pointed at me. I then blacked out.\n\nA week later\n\nI woke up suddenly and in a daze. I looked around. I was in the woods. Huh, never remembered going here. In fact, what the hell is my name? What's going on? I rummaged through my pocket and found a wallet and a phone. The wallet had an I.D that said Josh Hunter. I guess that's who I am.\n\n\"Hey there boy, are you lost?\" A man asked. He was grizzly, and seemed friendly enough.\n\n\"Yeah, can you help me out? I don't know what's happening right now.\" I said.\n\n\"Yeah son, sure. I can help you out.\" He said with a smile on his face. \"Follow me, I'll take you to my cabin.\" He continued.\n\nHe turned around, the back of his jacket had some sort of logo. It was like an eagle behind some podium with some star on it. Central Intelligence Agency? Sounds familiar. Eh, it's probably nothing.", "\"You guys aren't going to believe this!\" I said to my friends without any beating around the bush.\n\n\"What is it this time?\" Jamie rolled his eyes. \"What'd you find?\"\n\n\"Ok, so you know how I go on Reddit all the time?\" I began, itching to blurt it out but not wanting to ruin the story.\n\n\"Yea, of course. You're either on Reddit or talking about it,\" Riley sighed.\n\n\"Well apparently my dad is too! I saw a post making a confession about CIA testing. The guy who posted it said he tested the new chemicals on his daughter!\" I could tell my friends didn't believe me.\n\n\"How do you know this is your dad, and how do you know this guy on Reddit isn't lying?\" Jamie questioned patronisingly.\n\n\"I know it's my dad because the username is what he always uses. And dad's always been vague about what he does at work.\" I explained.\n\n\"But that doesn't prove anything!\" Riley tried to convince me.\n\n\"Ahh, but this might. And I quote from my dad's post: 'I developed the chemical, but couldn't risk testing it on actual agents, what if the side effects were catastrophic when they were in the field? I'm not proud to say that I used my daughter. I started preparing more meals for her at home over the past year. I was able to put the chemical into her food and watch what happened. It worked! She was able to find the smallest things, but unfortunately her eyesight began to deteriorate.'\" I looked up to my friends to see that they were both staring at me, open mouthed. \n\n\"You started needing glasses about a year ago,\" Jamie noted in shock.\n\n\"And before then you didn't have your 'superpower',\" Riley added.\n\n\"Yea, I know! I told you my ability to find tiny objects no one else could was a superpower! But it gets even better. Remember how I needed new glasses every month for, like, 3 months?\" I paused waiting for them to nod, when they did I continued. \"'I had to alter the formula and give her another dosage. With each dosage, her eyesight was affected negatively less and less. After 4 formulas, I finally found one that had no negative impact.'\"\n\nRiley let out a low whistle while Jamie looked around too shocked to say anything. \n\n\"I told you! He even mentioned the time I found that screw from his glasses on the carpet in the living room once.\" I finished with the most damming fact of all. The one that proves it must be my dad. \n\n\"So now we know your dad works for the CIA! Awesome! Your dad rocks!\" Jamie said excitedly.\n\nTypical for me, I end up with the superpower even my friends don't think is cool: being able find very small items.\n\n***\nI did not know then that years later that power would save my life on many occasions. Being able to notice the smallest things that others cannot has proved most useful in my career at my dad's old office." ]	2
Death can be whatever and whoever you want.	[WP] As you are about to die, Death intervenes.	[ "Frank fell softly into an endless spectrum of geometric patterns full of colors he had never seen before. Layer by layer, his humanity was stripped away as the dormant traces of DMT in his brain were activated. He had already forgotten how he got here, he knew was dying or already dead but he couldn't remember even being human. Slowly the visions faded into dull colors, then to grey, then darker and darker. Finally a spectrum of nothingness took hold.\n\nThen, like being awoken from a dream he felt someone grab his hand. An outstretched skeletal hand wrapped in a purple robe sleeve gripped his hand and pulled him from the nothingness. A voice echoed in the darkness of Frank's mind \"Go forth and avenge the innocent, help your fellow man...\"\n\nSuddenly there was an infinite level of pain surging through his body as his eyes began to see again. His ears began to function and were immediately bombarded with the rapid pops of gunfire and what sounded like fireworks. The world blurred at first but then came into focus, they weren't fireworks, they were bombs. Gunfire and bombs, \n\n\"Frrrrraaannkkk! Move your fucking ass!\" A familiar voice erupted in the distance. Still delirious, Frank realized he was on his back looking up at the sky. He felt wet, then he realized he was on a beach.\n\n\"No time for a tan, big guy, let's go kill some fucking krauts!\"\n\n A soldier in an American uniform yanked him up from his prone position and shoved a rifle back into Frank's hands. Instinctively, Frank gripped his gun and ran toward the gunfire. \n\nAfter the victory at Normandy, Frank learned he had been hit from the blast of a landmine. The doctors offered no real explanation as to how he survived with so much shrapnel planted in his body. His purple heart would always remind him of the hand in the purple sleeve that pulled him from oblivion.", "Panic, as I am thrown into wakefulness by the shrieking fire alarm in my apartment. I leap out of bed and feel the door to make sure the fire isn't in my living room. Cool. I open with the door with violently shaking hands and run to my front door. Hot. The fire is in the hallway.\n\nThe heat of fire hasn't even reached my yet, and I am sweating more than I ever remember sweating before. I turn back around; there is a fire escape out my bedroom window. I run back into my bedroom.\n\nNo! The bed is on fire! This is impossible! I turn around once more, trip and fall onto the floor. My heart is beating too quickly for me to see. There is another fire escape outside my living room, but it is old and I don't trust it. I stumble to my feet and try to get to the window through the haze which is only half made of smoke.\n\nI'm almost to the window.\n\nFalling.\n\nThe building is collapsing. And I live on floor 96.\n\nAs I accelerate, my view alternates between rubble and smoke, and the street rushing up to meet me. I begin to cry, but tears are precious little help against the flames and the drop.\n\n\"I don't want to die!\" I yell, as loudly and desperately as I can.\n\nDarkness.\n\nI am lying on my face. I look up around me, but all is dark.\n\nI hear a voice.\n\n\"I am Death,\" it said, deeply, slowly, irresistibly. \"Immortal, inexorable. Look at me!\"\n\nI roll onto my back, but still I can see nothing.\n\nA phantom spot blacker than the black surrounding me materializes above me. A hood, underneath which no face is visible.\n\n\"Did you mean what you said?\"\n\nI don't remember saying anything. \"What?\" I manage to ask.\n\n\"You said you didn't want to die.\" At the word die, a shiver ran through the darkness. \"Did you mean that?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I said. \"I don't want to die.\"\n\n\"Then you don't have to. Say the word, and you will not die.\"\n\n\"I-\"\n\n\"Be very sure. Be very, very sure. You cannot change your mind.\"\n\nI thought for what seemed to be eternity, but no reason to die entered my head. \"I am sure. I don't want to die.\"\n\n\"Then I will let you live.\" Out of the darkness, a hand appeared in front of me, open in offer to be shaken. It was skeletal. \"Deal?\"\n\n\"Deal,\" I said, and took the hand. It pulled me upward, and suddenly I was standing in the street, alive and unharmed. The apartment building was gone from the skyline, collapsed and destroyed. But I am alive.\n\nSixty years pass.\n\nI am 97 years old. Incredible, unbelievable things have happened to me. I was in a horrific car accident, in which I broke 18 bones and lost two-thirds of my blood, but I did not die. I fell into a lake and was under the water for almost three hours, but I did not die. When I was 68, I had a heart attack and didn't reach the hospital till the next day, but I did not die. At this moment, I have cancer which began in my liver and has spread to almost every organ in my body, but I have not died. The last 19 years I have spent in this bed, unable to walk or move around, and I have known only one thing: pain.\n\nI have not died, but I want to.\n\nThrough some miracle I managed to get a gun into my bed, and I am about to shoot myself in the head. \"I just want to die,\" I say.\n\nDarkness.\n\n\"I am Death,\" says a voice, unmistakable, although it is years since I heard it. \"Immortal, inexorable. You wish to die?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I say. \"My life is pain, and I wish to end it.\"\n\n\"That is unfortunate for you,\" says the voice. \"We have a deal.\"\n\nI put the gun to my temple. \"Too bad,\" I say.\n\nI pull the trigger.\n\nA loud explosion. Extreme pain. Blood, blood everywhere.\n\nAnd yet, I am not dead.\n\nPanic fills me, and I shoot again. More pain, more blood, and still I am not dead.\n\nFrantic, I empty the entire clip into my head, causing such infinite pain as I could never have imagined possible. I can barely see through the blood spurting out through the dozens of holes in my head.\n\nAnd still, I am not dead.\n\n\"At last you begin to understand,\" says the voice. \"You told me you did not wish to die, and I granted you wish.\"\n\nI begin to cry.\n\n\"Death is not the true curse of mortality, and so you should not wish against it. When an immortal being such as myself is destroyed, it vanishes from existence and all is over. But mortal beings are not so fortunate. You are dragged slowly, torturously, and yet inevitably, from your youth and your health, through old age, through pain and suffering. You are forced to sit and watch as your body, the only thing you have, turns against you. You stand in horror as you are abandoned by the beauty and the beauty that are so fleeting, and you are powerless against the progression of time. One by one, you lose what physical abilities you have, as your life turns slowly and completely into pain and misery, and the flesh itself begins to rot off your bones. This is the true curse of mortality, to watch your life desert you slowly, deaf to your screams of agony. You are trapped there forever.\"\n\nThrough the blood and the terror, I see the ghost of a face appear directly in front of me.\n\n\"We had a deal.\"", "I take a deep breath and try to mentally prepare myself as my hands grip the railing of the bridge. My head is spinning from being up so high and I can feel the fear welling up in my veins. I hold my breath and look down at the water. The wind is bone chilling and I try to imagine how frigid the water will be. “I jump on three” I decide aloud. I look around the bridge and there is no one coming from either way. “Alright, 1, 2, 3” I count trying to force my hands to let go of the railing. I can feel the wind pushing at my back and realize that it’s starting to rain. I slide my foot along the ledge of the bridge and can feel how slippery it is. As I continue to try to convince myself to let go, the wind intensifies.\n\n I restart my countdown but before I even get to two, a huge gust of wind sends me flying into the air and then down towards the frigid water. I scream as I fall to my death and I scream louder when I feel the temperature of the water. I am pulled under and as I try to swim to the surface, waves push me further down. I gasp for breath and water fills my lungs, as I wrestle the water I feel hands grabbing mine. They pull me up to the surface quickly and with ease like a life jacket. I breathe as much oxygen in as I can before I bob back down. I flail my hands but continue to descend to the ocean floor. I stop flailing my arms as I run out of air; I open my eyes and see something that looks like a shark swimming towards me. As it gets closer, I can see that it has arms and then it grabs me. It brings me back up to the surface in a flash and pulls me above the water. My feet barely touch the water as I soar above it. The wind stings my face and I look up to see how I am suddenly capable of flying. The black shark is gliding through the air but it better resembles a bird now with majestic wings. It has red laser eyes and is focusing on the path ahead. As we get closer to the land, he ascends higher into the sky and then drops me without warning. I make a hard landing onto the beach and feel pain shoot through my arm. I open my eyes and sit up slowly to see a lion with black fur circling me like as if I were a gazelle. It roars and lunges at me ferociously. I flinch but we don’t collide.\n\n When I open my eyes, there is a man sitting next to me with a pale face, black hair, and red eyes. He is dressed in a black button up shirt and dress pants. Although I am drenched in water and sand, he looks perfectly neat. He stays silent as I grip my arm in pain. He grabs it gently and feels it, “it’s broken” he says quickly and without emotion. I try to wipe some sand off my arms but end up making it worse, “Who are you?” I say weakly feeling faint. He smiles and says “Death” he holds out his hand for a handshake. Although it is a strange meeting, I shake his hand and ask, “Why did you save me?” He takes a deep breath and stares out at the ocean, “Why were you jumping off a bridge?” he asks in an amused tone. I stay silent unsure I want to answer his question. He chuckles and then answers my original question, “I was bored.” I nod and rub my eyes; wouldn’t it have been easier to let me die? He watches me shiver and grabs my hand. He has warmth emanating from him. “Try to breathe normally and maybe you won’t go into cardiac arrest” he says as he lies down onto the sand. He pulls the back of my shirt so I lay down next to him. \n\nHe looks into my eyes with a curious expression on his face and frowns, “Can we talk for a second or are you dying?” he asks. I smile at his lack of sympathy, “Talk away” I answer. “I’m bored with my job as Death bringer. From now on, we are going to be best friends. I’m going to save you whenever you’re about to die and we’ll be friends forever. This isn’t your choice and you can’t tell anyone unless you want to be locked up” he explains. Although I’m confused as to why Death would want a friend and why he would want me, I smile and nod. I wasn’t alone anymore; I had a friend who actually cared if I was living or dead. \n\n“So can you change into any animal?” I ask looking at the many stars. He chuckles and nods. “What does a dodo look like?” I ask. He laughs and transforms before my eyes. After a second of clowning around, he transforms back into his regular winged human self. “Do you want to go for another flight?” he asks. I grab his hand and reply, “I thought you’d never ask.”\n", "Having no other options, I finally felt the relief of my last breath.\n\nI had waited long for this accident, an excuse to relieve the world of 'the disease', which I had nicknamed myself. \n\nThe intense sense of peace that I had heard flushed over near-death victims kicked in, lasting what felt like an entire second lifetime. Suddenly all my errors and mistakes were forgiven by the one person who never forgave them: Me. \n\nThat was when I heard a voice I had only heard a few times, a boys voice. Though I do not remember opening my eyes, I saw a figure step out of a white nothingness. The figure was quite small, but walked like an adult: \"You really should try and grow up, I did!\" The figure now came into full view, and I instantly recognized the facial features, having seen them in a home video my parents had made long ago. The little boy was me.\n\nI was unable to speak, and the boy seemed to be completely aware of this: \"When I started all of this, there was suppose to be a development. That was actually my goal: To observe the development. I guess I halted it too much, not considering the thought of 'strength through misery' to be of much importance. I really thought you'd figure that out yourself? Anyway, I can't let this happen now, it is all far too in, and I need you to stay focused on this life! You won't remember me, when I go away again, but you should remember the most important things I will tell you now: Remember your mistakes as experience! They really are nothing more... All those times you considered yourself worthless and idiotic, your were really stepping miles ahead of those who had yet to realize this. Nothing has to be said out loud, you really just have to let your nature of reflexes and intuition develop, instead of halting them with all of those goddamn shitty thoughts!\"\n\nThe boy turned around and started walking back. I noticed there was no sole or bottom on his brown childish leather shoes, and he was wearing no socks underneath. My thoughts were racing, but it seemed hard to focus and concentrate, still having the complete sense of peace. It was as if my body told me: It's alright, it doesn't matter, nothing does!\" and \"Everything is really really good!\" The last word was what woke me up, as I rarely ever used that word.\n\n\nI woke up in a comfortable bed to the beeping sound of hospital machinery. Next to me sat a nurse, who quickly got up and started talking to me. I didn't understand a word of what she said, everything sounded like gurgling and ticking sounds of familiar letters and expressions. The weird sensation of understanding myself, audio less thoughts, while not understanding others, made my spine shiver. I did not expect this shiver, but as it came, my body suddenly came back to life. The first sensation was like my body was made of lead, and what followed, was a wave of pain from different parts, as if my body was being beaten by the soft hands of the nurse. When the feeling finally reached my head, I let out a load scream, before once again feeling a relief, close to the one I vaguely remembered after the accident (also the last thing I remembered at all). The last thing I noticed was the nurse injecting the last of the morphine into my arm, before I feel asleep again.\n\nI dreamt about shoes, walking along the street on their own, with no one to carry them. The seemed to float above ground, and I could sense a sort of wave coming from each, that reached towards the sky. I looked up at an intense blue and white checkered sky, leading my thought to some sort of mechanical world. I walked along this unfamiliar street, before I reached a bright-lit store window, displaying socks in all sorts of shapes and colors. Some had 3 toes, some had a long neck ending in a strange forward bend, and some pedestals were simply empty. In the store window a completely white and bright being walking towards the window, browsing the different kinds of socks, before it looked up. Though there were no eyes, I could still feel an intense gaze, piercing though my skin, reaching my very core. The figure quickly withdrew its hand, before it seemed to grab the display window. As it pulled the window towards it, like a carpet painted to resemble the very reality of this place, everything around was pulled towards the creature in a wave-like motion. Like a flashlights beam in the dark, all of reality was pulled towards this bright and shiny hand, leaving darkness behind and around me.\n\nWhen the last of the light disappeared, I woke up again..." ]	4
	[WP] After making a suicide pact, a boyfriend and girlfriend jump off the Golden Gate bridge, one of them dies. The other finds out that they are immortal.	[ "Johnny looks at Sadie’s lifeless body in his arms. He flags down a boat and puts her body on. He would’ve tread water for a little while more but it had already been 3 hours. He thought he fell the wrong way so he decided to tread water until he ran out of energy and eventually drowned. Unfortunately after all this time, he still was full of energy and was deadly bored. \n\nJohnny cries as he lies to the sailors and says that when she jumped, he tried to save her. He says the current was so strong that it took him this long to flag down a boat. After they get back to shore and call and ambulance, Johnny sits on a bench deliberating what he would tell her parents. He couldn’t bear that responsibility; he decides to follow through on the pact. \n\nHe makes a quick stop at the hardware store before home. When he arrives, he makes himself a poison Pina Colada and watches an episode of The Price is Right. Three episodes later, he realizes that it didn’t work so he adds more poison to his drink. After another few episodes, he drinks out of the gallon wondering why he was so bad at completing the pact. He decides that it was a faulty gallon and grabs a kitchen knife. He takes a bath and tries to slit his wrists but the knife appears to be too dull. He gets out of the tub and grabs a few more to try but they all seem to be too dull. Johnny groans, he never had this much trouble with cutting steak. \n\nHe decides that slitting his wrist is not the correct route to take and resolves to hanging himself. The first time he tries the rope breaks and so he decides to use Sadie’s rock climbing gear to assist. Although the rope doesn’t break, he realizes something is wrong when he is still hanging conscious after two hours. He fiddles with the rope but is unable to get himself down. He swings his legs but is still stuck. After a few hours he hears the door knob jiggling. He yells, “Come in!” and his older brother walks through the door. After an initial look of shock, his brother cuts him down and lectures him for a solid twenty minutes. “I told you, I was meditating! I wasn’t hanging myself idiot!” Johnny yells at his brother trying to hide his embarrassment. His brother Dannie sighs and says, “Why don’t you stay at my place for the night? Just so you don’t get lonely here?” Johnny agrees in order to quell suspicions that he was suicidal; he didn’t want to end up in the mental hospital. \n\nHe lies on Dannie’s couch watching Jeopardy and tries to fall asleep. He hears footsteps around him and looks up, Dannie is right in front of him. Johnny jumps back, “What the heck is your problem? Go away!” he yells. Dannie shakes his head, “I was checking to ensure you were still breathing.” Johnny rolls his eyes, “Wait Dannie! Before you go, can I ask you a question?” he asks. Dannie sits down on the couch, “Duh, just ask it!” Johnny takes a deep breath, “Have you ever survived any accidents?” he asks trying to avoid eye contact. Dannie smiles, “You mean that you can’t die?” Johnny jumps up from the couch, “You can’t either?!?” he shouts in excitement. Dannie laughs, “I can! You can’t! I’m just a normal human. You’re adopted.” Johnny looks at his older brother trying to tell if he is joking, “Am I really adopted?” He asks in disbelief. “Yep, mom and dad didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t think it’s that big a deal so I’m telling you” Dannie answers. Johnny puts his head in his hands, “What the heck does that even mean? Adopted people still die.” Dannie laughs and explains, “Not if you’re Death’s kid. You’re permanently immortal. Someday you’ll probably become the grim reaper but I wouldn’t worry about that for now.” Johnnie looks at his brother waiting for the punch line but Dannie was already watching the television. His girlfriend had killed herself, he had failed at killing himself, and he found out he was adopted; this was just a horrible day. \n", "The lift of the legs off the banister and i'm already pulling my knife, and i'm already stabbing him, and he's being stabbed, and he looks at me not with pain but with PAIN--you know what I mean--that surprised look like i just told him i was cheating on him, which i was, which is why i convinced this whole thing to happen, but i figured stabbing him on the way down would soothe that special dark nightmare i nurture every few weeks. but there is not even any blood, just a clean blade on the exit that glints in the sun and i know now why he is what he is, why he does what he does: boring, courageous, heroic almost, boring. when the water splashes and i smack my head on the rocks he will know greater pain, greater pain and greater pain as the years melt and melt and melt.", "Today is the day.. today is the day that we will die. This all started 3 days ago when we made that pact, the pact that we'll be together forever. We've been going through some hard times now and well, this just seems like the right thing to do. The morning just seems so bare, so normal. Will this really be how my life ends? Just as another normal day? I got up out of bed and went to go brush my teeth, just as I got up she wakes up to tell me that she loves me, I just turn towards the restroom and keep walking. I brush my teeth and walk to the kitchen to see her there, pouring herself some coffee. As I walk closer I seem to notice her crying, she's crying her eyes out. She looks at me and says \"I love you so much, although i'm scared i'm just glad i'm doing this with you baby.\", I look at her and smile, \"Don't worry, i'll always be with you.\" This morning didn't seem so normal anymore, I started to get nervous. I took out the suicide letters we composed the night before and lay them there on the table in the living room. As I do that I start to have second thoughts, is this really a good idea? She comes out and notices me staring at the notes, \"Honey, are you okay?\", I look at her and give her a reassuring look, \"Just dandy.\". We were dressed up pretty nice today, she wore a beautiful black dress, something she'd wear on a date. I wore a nice suit and tie, something I never wear.. but I guess we just wanted to be dressed for the occasion, saying our final farewell to the entity we call life.\n\n\nWe prepared ourselves for the worst, well I guess we did want the worst to happen in the first place. We hopped into our car and started the long drive to the Golden Gate Bridge. The drive was quiet.. almost silent throughout the first 20 minutes. I finally hear something from her, \"How do you feel about this?\". I really didn't know how to answer, I really thought that this was the path to go, but on the road I can't help but think that it's a bad decision. Well, it doesn't matter what I think, I just want her to be happy. I look at her and smile \"I'm perfectly fine with it as long as I get to spend the rest of my life with you.\". The rest of the drive was silent, we just let the radio play and the wind roar. \nWe finally get near the Golden Gate Bridge, there doesn't seem to be a parking spot within the area. I drive down the small street nearby to try to find a parking spot. I hear her say \"Honey? This, this is my dream house.\" She points to the medium sized yellow house. \"Really now? Wouldn't you like to raise a family there?\" I replied. She gives me a blank stare, she finally spits it out, \"If we weren't have so many problems in our life.. I'd almost wish we'd move here and live our lives. Raise a family, you know, have a normal life..\", I replied \"Yes, I would love that.\" She stares back at me, \"If you we didn't make that pact.. I would want you to move on and marry someone, raise a family there.\", I look at her, laughing, \"The only girl I want is you.. I won't find anyone else.\", she continues giving me the blank stare, \"But I would've wanted you to promise that you'd try.. actually.. promise me that you would've if you didn't make this pact.\" I laugh, \"Okay! It's a shame i'm going with you huh?\".\n\n\nI finally found a parking spot. It's not too far from the bridge, but it's right down the street from the yellow house. On the walk to the bridge she says \"Hey, lets look at the yellow house real quick, it'll be quick I promise!\". We go past the yellow house, we notice that there's a \"FOR SALE\" sign. She looks at me smiling, \"Isn't that convenient? Just joking haha.\" I give her a blank stare. The rest of the walk to the bridge was quiet for the most part, maybe she's starting to feel nervous about it. We get to the middle of the bridge and stop. I look her in the eye and ask her \"Are you sure you want to do this?\", she smiles \"Yes, and there's no one i'd rather do it with!.\" We both climb on to the railing, hands together. I tell her, \"Close your eyes, and on the count of three, jump.\" She smiles. We both close our eyes, I start to count. \"1\", I'm starting to feel remorse.. maybe we shouldn't.. \"2\", I hear someone screaming \"DON'T DO IT!\", but I can't stop I think.. \"3\". \"JUMP!\". We both jump. I see the life flash before my eyes, memories of her and I together, and the last thing I hear is her beautiful voice telling me \"I love you.\" We hit the water. All I see is darkness... is this what death feels like? It feels like I'm drowning.. maybe your afterlife depends on how you die? Maybe not. Death sure is slow.. it feels like i've been here forever. Can I move? Yes I can. I swim around for a bit, wait. I see her dead body there. I call her name, but she doesn't move an inch. Is she dead? Am I dead? Scuba divers come down to rescue us, well I guess not to rescue but to retrieve the dead bodies. I see him staring at me, like it's some miracle. He fishes me back up. After a little bit of resting i'm disappointed that I didn't die with her.. actually quite pissed. I see the scuba diver walk by and I ask him, \"Hey why did you look so surprised to see me alive?\", he gives me a serious look, \"You were down there for about 2 hours..\" I felt confused, \"WHAT DO YOU MEAN?\", he looks at me and says, \"I don't know what happened, but you're lucky, maybe you're immortal or something, that's beyond me.\" Immortal. Immortal. How can I fulfill my pact if I'm immortal? I hear a voice, it's her voice, \"Remember that promise you made? Don't break it..\", it fades away. I think to myself, \"I'll live for you my love, I'll be the embodiment of your dreams, I'll endure the pain for you for the rest of my life.\"", "We fall and fall the wind blows through my hair. \nIn this moment we live without a care. \nGone together, others can't compare. \nSee you soon, so an eternity we can share.\n\nHold me now before I disappear. \nYou survived the fall I sense the end is near. \nWhen we were young we lived without a fear. \nThere is no light without you that much has become clear.\n\nYou promised me it was love and would lead to fame. \nNow I slip, alone in the world again. \n\nThe fall is long, but with you I don't mind. \nYou're gorgeous in the air, so glad your mine. \nOver before we know it, then all the stars they will align. \nEveryone will know the lovers and the flight that left the world behind.\n\nI hold you close, why am I still fine? \nIs this death or is this just a sign. \nStay with me our souls are intertwined. \nYou slip away and leave me far behind. \n\nI promised it was love and would lead to fame. \nI let you down I hope you see my pain. \nNow I wander lit by your eternal flame. \nI promise you, you'll never be alone again.", "\"Kate\" I say softly, she doesn't answer. She is sitting on the edge of my bed, arms on her knees staring at the floor. Her hair is hanging in front of her face, hiding her expression from me, it makes me nervous because I can't tell what she's thinking, I'm not sure I want to know. \"Kate\" I say louder... \"Kate!\", she picks up her head, \"what?\", her eyes meet mine, vacant with a deep sadness underneath that I refuse to let seep in. \"Are you ready\", She nods ever so slightly without breaking eye contact, her eyes starting to tear. I look away and take a deep breath, I just want her confirmation, I don't want to have to think about it. I don't want to feel the pain.\n\nIt's time to go.\n\nThe cab lets us out near the bridge, \"nice day for a walk\" he says. I reply \"yeah\" as I pay him, I feel like he knows what we are about to do. I wonder if he has \"assisted\" anyone else. We walk to the middle of the bridge, holding hands, heads low. She squeezes my hand and pulls herself close to me as we walk. \"It is a nice day\" I say, trying to make small talk, it sounds stupid as soon as it leaves my lips, she doesn't seem to notice though. We find a spot near the middle of the bridge as another couple passes us from the opposite direction. I look into the distance and point at nothing in particular just waiting for them to leave. They are walking so slow, I feel like screaming \"get off my god damn bridge!\". I don't.\n\nIt's time.\n\nI look at Kate, she looks up at me. No words are spoken, there's not even a nod between us. We both know what comes next. I kiss her forehead softly, lingering for a moment as I breather her in one last time. We climb onto the railing together. Our feet hanging over, the water is so far below I get dizzy when I look down. This is it, just a twitch or a even a strong wind is all that separates us from eternity. I wish it could have been different, but there is no turning back now. I feel the sun on the back of my head as it breaks over the mountains, I feel a soft breeze cooling the sweat off my back, I hear wind whistling as it cuts through the bridge. It's strange how I feel so alive, it's a cruel joke. I look over at Kate, she is staring out into the distance, she turns her head and looks at me. She takes my hand.\n\nWe jump.\n\nOur bodies leave the railing and give in to gravity, I see panic on Kate's face as we separate. I lose sight of her. My heart is pounding, it feels like it's going to explode. My head is spinning or maybe I'm spinning, I cant tell. Things are moving so fast and getting faster, but for a moment time seems to stop. It's not supposed to be like this! This is not what I wanted! how can I take this back? how can I make is stop? I can't. I can't.\n\n...\n\nI open my eyes, so dark, so cold. My limbs are heavy, it's hard to move. I see a dim light in the distance. Is this it, am I dead? No. I must be fifty feet under water, but I'm still alive, I don't know how, but I'm alive. I hold my breath and close my eyes waiting for the end. Panic sets in. I just want this to be over but I can't force myself to let go. Finally, mercifully, my body lets go for me, against my will, my lungs start to expand and draw in what they expect is air. My lungs fill with water and I try to scream into the river as I black out.\n\nMy eyes open, but I can't see anything, it's so dark. My limbs 6 still heavy, my lungs labor like I'm breathing molasses. I'm still underwater. I'm still alive. What's happening, how can I sill be alive? I finally allow myself to cry, the river steals my tears as my body drifts with the current.", "We stood on the edge, overlooking the water and the near 300 foot drop below us. The water was grey, choppy and the chilly air was bringing in the fog that was iconic for washing over the bridge and the city. Sunset was just ending, twilight was here. It was my favorite time of day; any other day this would have been a beautiful sight. But today wasn't any other day - today was THE day. There wasn't time to reconsider, to take back what had been discussed and promised. It was time to jump off of the bridge and take solace in the peace of death.\n\n He took my hand and squeezed gently, reassuring as he asked, \"Are you ready?\" \n\n\"Yes.\" I nodded as he drew his arm around me for one last time, side stepping closer and resting his hand on my hip as he kissed my cheek. I pressed closer to him as he drew near, taking in a deep breath to prepare myself for the upcoming plunge. \"On the count of three?\" I asked, looking at him to see if he was ready to jump. \n\n\"Okay\" he said, gazing back at me before glancing at the water below. \"I love you,\" he blurted out, staring back at me. \nI gave him a small smile, \"I love you, too.\" We looked intently at each other, holding the embrace as he started to count down. \n\n\"Three... “We both took a deep breath, slightly shaking as we leaned closer over the water. \n\n\"Two... “My hand on the railing loosened, I was finally going to get the peace and rest of death. I would finally be free. \n\n\"One...\" He said. One final breath and we both let go, jumping off the edge.\n\nThe water rushes towards us quickly, and the wind whips as we grow in speed. I researched the jump before, I know it takes 4 only seconds and that people go as fast as 75 miles per hour. \n\nIt feels almost surreal. It’s finally happening. I looked up from looking towards our final destination and I see him, staring at me. He's panicked. His hand is still holding mine and he's squeezing tight.\n\n\n\"I'm sor--\" He starts, and everything goes black. It feels like sledgehammers have hit me from all around and everything is cold. I feel cold, and pain. I gasp for air and realize that I survived the impact but I can't see him. My love, the one who was apologizing to me just seconds ago.\n\n\"Where are you?!\" I try to yell, but I choke on the water. The water burns like pins and needles in my chest, but I cough it out and keep pushing on. I need to find him.\n\nThe waves that I saw before, choppy and grey, are now swells that attempt to hit me down. I bob in the water and with every tread to keep myself up I wince more in pain. The light is fading, and the fog is growing thicker. I need to find him. He was saying he was sorry, he regretted jumping. If I survived, he could have too, right? \n\nIt feels like I'm swimming forever, but it may have just been a minute before I find him. He's face down in the water. Tears stream down my face as I try roll him over to see if he's okay, but he's not. 2% of jumpers survive. He wanted to live, and he didn't. I wanted to die, and I didn't. \n\nI failed him in life and in death.\n", "As if it had not been bad enough to hate life with you. Now, two weeks later, I am sitting here in the hospital bed looking out through the light curtains with an emptiness. Our families have visited me and it all turned into a blame game. This world I still hate is not empty on the outside anymore. There are so many characters that care, so many that blame me, you and themselves. I killed you, you killed me and they killed us. But at the same time it is all fine. Outside of the curtains I can see the hint of an old tree when the sun slams through it shading parts of the curtains that I cannot manage to pull away. I miss the world, the old, empty and sentimental world where we had a dream. I miss walking down the dark streets with a feeling, warm by the hate, wishing there would be no tomorrow. I would rather have you here with me but they tell me you are gone. Shaken by the accident, not really. I just feel alone, used to having you understanding me. The only regret is in letting you go, I do not really know if I am immortal or not. I do not care if I am immortal or not. The sun have raised to many times since you promised me an eternity and I said I would always love you. I fucked up. There is no tomorrow for you, in the same way that there was no yesterday. Today is for me and I do not even enjoy life, as you know, or would have known. You are still with me but not really. An image I painted long ago, a beautiful painting of having something in common. And now all that is left is my empty heart and I know that life goes on. Even though I cry there is nothing sad about it. There is only fear, fear of being alone and I will miss the sex.", "The tension between our eyes solidified the fact that we were going to do this. We wanted to spend all of forever together, but you can’t do that by living. All the cars driving by us on the bridge, and not a single one stopped in its way. Not a single one stopped or even thought of stopping. We weren't important to them, much like they weren’t important to us. At that instant when I looked into her eyes, I knew she was the only one important to me. I wrapped my embrace around her, knowing this is how we’ll be forever, how we wanted it to be. Our feet went off the edge with our bodies trailing behind. What better way to live forever with one you love, then to die with them. \n\nSplash.\n\nExcept I didn’t.", "It's been an eternity since we first fell, and I've been falling ever since. I try to cling onto myself, those fragile fragments of memory that I still have. It is hard though, when all that surrounds you is the abyss, a hollow where there once was earth. The stars have long since burnt out, leaving me in darkness like a child caught misbehaving by their father. I believe that this is purgatory, a punishment for my sins. For the sin of attempting taking my life before the creator could, he should have let me burn in fire and brimstone for all of eternity. Even that would have been preferable compared to this nothingness I now face. \n\n\nBut for the sin of leading one of his children astray, he has forsaken me. I am cursed to this state of existence, fervently hoping for an ending that will never come. ", "\"Drunk as we were, we thought it was a good idea. After all, what damage could some water do?\n\nThat's how I lost the first one, back on Earth. We thought that love was forever, that nothing could end it. We thought wrong.\n\nI was a young lad back then. I couldn't contain my alcohol, and she couldn't contain it like I could. We ended daring each other to jump off one of the biggest bridges there was back then, what we called the \"Golden gate bridge\".\n\nAfter some bickering about who went first, we decided we'd go together.\n\nWe jumped, a fall which would kill any man back then, and most unprepared men nowadays. Of course, if it'd kill anyone back then, it meant she wouldn't survive.\n\nAs she fell, the alcohol in her head cleared enough to make her realize she'd die right then, and so she yelled. I was so drunk I didn't really realize I'd die, but I think that if I hadn't drunk so much I still wouldn't have been as scared.\n\nIt was a short while she screamed, and she fell into the water first. Then I don't remember much, only waking up ashore with the biggest hangover I had had in my life back then.\n\nOf course, many many years have went by. I got over her, even if at the time I tried to suicide many times. I realized it was pointless to try again, and went on with my life. Then I tested my luck fighting against the nazis, and again I didn't die. In Vietnam, I kept going even after I was shot at. So, I guess it's natural for me to try in Afghanistan.\"\n\n\"Okay, whatever you say, but there's no way you were born in 1920. Bring a fake ID next time, maybe we can recruit you then.\"", "They sat together, facing each other in a pair of old wooden dining chairs that sooner belonged half burnt and covered in ash at the bottom of a drunk's fire pit rather than on the crisp linoleum floor of the cramped bachelor apartment. The empty bottle was placed neatly on the floor between his feet, the red cap staring upward blankly. The glimmer from the street lights shone across her face and he could see that she was beginning to tire.\n\nHe squeezed her hands gently causing her to lock eyes with him. Her droopy eyelids offset by a thin smile that pierced her lips.\n\nHe smiled back at her hopelessly. This had been more her decision than his. He knew the baby meant the world to her but he had always held on to the hope that she would move on eventually. \n\nApparently not. \n\nHe knew that he couldn't live without her however, so when she proposed to end their suffering he begrudgingly agreed. He had resisted of course, but when he became convinced that her opinion could not be swayed he knew that he could not let her do it alone.\n\nHe began to feel his heart beat in his neck. Each rhythmic throb felt like waves of serenity passing through his body. He concentrated on the feeling while he watched her tiredly lay her head in her hands, the hair draping from her in such a way as to expose the bare skin of her neck.\n\nHis head was filled with brief memories of his lips resting on that neck. He closed his eyes tightly and held on to the memories for as long as he could. He remembered the smell of her hair as the world began to fall away around him. He remembered the faint tickle of her skin touching his as he relived every moment they had ever spent together. He...\n\n\nShe felt a rotting pain in her stomach and her mouth tasted like last night's vomit. She tried to lift her heavy body but could only manage to tilt her head back slightly and winced at the beam of light as it caught her in the eye. The pain from the sun forcefully imprinting an image on the back of her cornea was enough to motivate her out of her chair. She heard the dull clank of a plastic bottle skid across the floor as she shifted her weight on to her feet. With a sudden and horrific realisation her eyelids shot open. Her mouth fell agape and as her hand involuntarily rose to calm her quivering lip a well of tears began to run down her flushed cheeks.", "“Are you sure?” He looked into her eyes.\n\n She looked happy, probably because she knew the pain of her existence was about to end. She nodded and gave him a wan smile. She didn’t ask him. She didn’t have to. He’d wanted to end it all for a long time. His life was a long series of disappointments, save for Caroline. \n\nHe’d never known his family, and been kicked around foster homes until he was 18. Then he’d met her, and for a time, knew peace. Two and a half years. They hadn’t been enough for each other though. Both carried too much baggage, too much pain. She wanted to die, and he didn’t want to live without her. \n\nThat brought them to the bridge, the Golden Gate. It was famous for this sort of thing. They’d gotten out of their car and were now standing at the edge. A few cars were pulling over, but it would be too late.\n\nShe pulled him down and kissed him, and tilted slightly. And… they were falling. His heart was pounding, the air was rushing past them, buffeting them. He was staring at her face. He saw the happiness drain out in a rush as she realized she was about to die. \n\nHer face went from serene to horrified. She began to scream. Moments stretched into eternity and then… \n\nTime stopped. \n\nSome time later, he awoke. He’d washed ashore. He was alive. He was alive. And Caroline was dead. She hadn’t wanted to die, in the end. He remembered hearing that most people that jumped realized that on the way down. \n\nHe’d let her die and he.. was alive. He wasn’t even hurt. \n\nIt slowly sunk in that the only reason he’d ever had to draw breath had killed herself. \n\nHe tried to kill himself three more times that day. \n\nIt didn’t work. \n\nHis wrists healed before he’d but stained the water. \n\nJumping in front of a bus just tore his clothing.\n\nThe pills had no effect.\n\nHe couldn’t die. He was some how immortal. He crumpled to the ground and wept the tears of the damned. He was somehow sure he’d live forever. And he would see her face. Hear her scream, forever. Every moment of every day.\n\nEvery.\n\n\nSingle.\n\n\n\nDay.\n\n", "We have to hurry, I think someone's spotted us. We get to the right spot, I hear sirens now. Pushed by the urgency, there's no time to think. We climb out and balance there. I look into her eyes and we both push off. The gut wrenching drop, then, blackness.\n\n\nI wake up in my room, of course, drenched in sweat. It seems so real, it always does. I've had this dream on and off for as long as I can remember. I can smell the ocean, taste the salt spray. Describe every stitch of her clothes.\n\n\nI loved her very much. At least that's how it feels in the dream. I really believe I could construct our entire lives given enough time in the dream. In fact, since I've discovered lucid dreaming, it seems I'm remembering more and more about us. I can't really control the dream, but I can slow it down kind of. I can discover more and more it seems.\n\n\nIf that sounds weird, I guess it's because it is! Most people would probably be scared to death and try to forget these kinds of dreams. I only feel more drawn to this one. \n\n\nThe other day her name actually came to me. Alicia. We met at a concert. I think. This is crazy, I can't go on like this. I don't go out. I just grind through my day, waiting for my chance to sleep. And dream.\n\n\nSeveral months go by, lonely, endless days. I've started to unwind the dream even more. The concert we met at, the connections we made.I feel so alone and depressed without her. Like I've truely lost her. I must be crazy.\n\n\nThere's really no hope I tell myself. Nothing more to be done... I find the right spot, balanced on the edge...\n", "Tears ran down my face as we stepped onto the edge. He put his arm around me as I smiled sadly back at him. This was how it had to be. I leaned in close, my lips brushing his ear as they moved.\n\n\"You don't have to do this\" I breathed one last time.\n\n\"I know\" he said. \n\nHe held my hand and looked gazed down at the waves. \n\n\"Ready?\" he said, resolve firm in his tone.\n\n\"Ready\", I whispered back.\n\nIn unison we stepped into the air. They couldn't hurt us now.\n\nThe night wind clawed at my jacket with its icy fingertips, whipping my long hair back. My ears were filled with the rush of my heartbeat and the scream of the wind. \n\nFor 5 and a half seconds that lasted forever, nothing mattered. We were flying, we were together, we were free. \n\nThe river rushed up to meet us too soon, but we didn't care. I saw my laughing face reflected in his grey eyes. \n\nThen I saw nothing.\n\n---\nRachel had laughed as we fell. I hadn't heard her laugh in months before then. She was the last thing I saw before we hit the water. I think the last moments of our lives were the best. Everything that had gone wrong, every worry and problem, tossed into the air and washed away by the sea. I died happy. \n\nAnd then I woke up. Pain stabbed through me like electricity. I opened my mouth to scream and river water rushed in, burning like icy fire. Rachel was gone. I'd let go, lost my grip in my sleep, left her like I swore I wouldn't. I opened myself to the elements and willed them to let me join her. But they wouldn't. The current forced me onwards and I was forced under again.\n\nI forced myself onto a beach two days later. The broken ribs from the fall had refused, and the constant drowning had become routine. I sat exhausted, clothes torn beyond recognition, on a hard rock. I stared at the rusting ring on my finger. I'd sworn to stay by her side. Now I knew I never could.\n\n\n", "I've never seen this bridge so barren. Not to imply that it was lacking its fair share of the midnight traffic, no definitely not. More to imply that I simply did not care enough to keep up the facade of enjoying this day-to-day drivel. Monotony is the antagonist of my life. Sara shook it up a bit. \n\nShe sat alongside me, hand clenching mine as her cheeky smile glared to high heaven. Two beings in unity that used each other's company as a jam in the samey traffic that populated every waking second of their lives. It was interesting of course, she was an optimist in the most morbid way. She always clung to this faint spark of hers, a spark that told her this was a test that she had to transcend in order to reach her true life. But she couldn't do it alone. She needed her teenage heartthrob there with her to take that plunge and kick that ethereal bucket into the next realm. I sighed and turned to her. \"You still sure?\" Her eyes gleamed in the emberlike glow of the street lamps that lined the bridge. She just nodded. A confident, happy nod. \n\nI took her in both arms as we bid our short farewell to each other, destined to meet on the other side. The breeze that trailed alongside us for the night seemed to lift her from my arms as if she was nothing but a frail leaf. But that smile quickly turned to something more puncturing. A look of fear, pain and despair all rolled into one easy to digest packet of black emotion. I'd tried this before, suicide to end the simplistic lifestyle that hounded me. It didn't work. No scratches, organ trouble, bruises or otherwise. Any noose frayed before I would die. So here I sit, watching my current love weave her way into my tapestry as one who places trust in a boy she'd known for a handful of months. Idiot. For all her faults though, she had the whole looks thing going for her. A face of the whitest porcelain and hair of darkest black. Her delicate features and sharp eyes contrasted each other so perfectly, as if her face was structured by her own thought processes. Standing and looming over the edge as the water embraced her, I spoke my last words to her: \n\n\"You may not have been the first, nor the last. But I'll be damned if you aren't the prettiest.\"" ]	15
	[WP] An alien invasion from the alien's perspective	[ "The ship wrenches as we come out of warp, pulling into orbit high over the planet's atmosphere. The bay doors underneath my squad open, revealing bright blue oceans and green landmass.\n\nGripping my harness one last time, I offer a prayer up to the Old Gods, then I'm falling, propelled towards the planet by the thruster pack on the back of my suit.\n\nRed tinges flare up around my outer armor as we enter the thermosphere, then, the ground rising up closer and closer, the extra shielding blasts off, revealing a second set of thrusters. Half a second passes, and they activate. A jet of plasma shoots up around my legs, deflected by my energy shield.\n\nFinally, I touch the ground. Targets begin popping up on my HUD, primarily a large, red-marked military base in front of me. Vehicles, spotted by the suit's thermal camera, have already begun mustering inside. \n\nI press a button and a missile drone detaches from my shoulder, launching a barrage of plasma bombs at the base. In long, loping strides I cross the hundred meters or so to the base, watching as the missiles vaporize the base's meager defenses.\n\nWhen I reach the base, I find a few surviving humans scattered about, covered in plasma burns. They are easily dispatched with a few rounds from a wrist-mounted gun, and two more missiles from the drone destroy most of the remaining buildings.\n\nScanning the burning remains of the base, I send a notification to the cruiser waiting in the outer orbit of the planet. Similar messages follow as other crews do their work, and, in a matter of minutes, the military defenses of the entire western hemisphere have been destroyed, leaving the fleet free to commence orbital bombardment.\n\nThe invasion is off to a good start.\n" ]	1
	[WP] In a world where every child is born with an instruction manual, one parent's child comes with a blank book. The book's first page simply states "Write your own destiny."	[ "Blue smiles at Julia and rolls the dice. “Let’s go evens!” he yells throwing them against the sidewalk. Julia jumps for joy when Blue rolls a five. “Loser!” she teases grabbing her winnings which was composed of different types of gum and candy. As she puts the candy in her pocket, Julia’s mother comes out of the front door. “Julia Ashes! What are you doing? Get in here right now!” She shouts grabbing Julia’s hair. Julia wrestles free of her mother’s grip, “Why? Blue and I aren’t doing anything wrong!” she shouts. Mrs. Ashes rolls her eyes, “He’s a blank book! You have a planned destiny and don’t need to socialize with him! Go home Davis!” she yells slapping Julia on her head. Julia heads inside to appease her mother and looks back at Blue regretfully, she mouths, “I’m sorry” and disappears into her house. Blue stands up from the sidewalk and grabs his dice. He puts on a smile and tries to ignore Mrs. Ashes’ words; that was just something all parents say so they can keep control over their own kids. It didn’t matter that his book was blank; he was going to be fine. \n\n\nHe goes home and sees his father busy at the table creating another puppet. “Hey Davis! How’s your day?” He asks as he whittles away into the wood. Blue sighs and says, “Blue.” His dad looks up and smiles, “Davis is a perfectly great name. Blue is a color.” He says as Blue’s buries his face in his hands. A minute of silence passes and then his dad hears sobbing. He puts the puppet down and pulls Blue close, “Hey! Hey! What’s wrong Davy? Bad day?” he asks concerned. Blue wipes his eyes, “No, I’m fine. Bye.” He says getting up from the chair. His father calls him back to the table and takes on a stern tone, “Davis! What happened?” he asks. Blue rolls his eyes, “I just had a bad day. Mrs. Ashes yelled at Julia for hanging out with a blank book again. You would think I’d be used to it by now. I’m just stupid sometimes.” He explains trying to keep his composure. His dad pulls him in for a hug, “Mrs. Ashes doesn’t try to be rude she just doesn’t understand people like you. One of these days, she’ll get it.” \n\nBlue nods and picks up the half-finished puppet. “What’s this guy’s name?” he asks moving him around on the table. His dad smiles and says, “I’m thinking that he’s going to be Cameron. What do you think?” Blue looks at the puppet’s round face and thinks of Julia, “Hey what do you really think of Julia?” he asks putting the puppet down. His father grins and remarks, “Ah! The crushes of youth!” Blue blushes and shouts, “Dad! I meant that she’s nice unlike her jerk mom.” His dad laughs, “She’s a sweet girl. She’s smart; she’ll probably make a really good nurse someday just like her manual says.” Blue sighs and asks, “You’ve seen her manual right? Does it say who she marries and has kids with?” His dad looks at him seriously and begins to speak, “Davis! You cannot interfere with her destiny. It’s none of your business. While she’s living a mundane boring life as a nurse, you will be free to have any adventure you want.” Blue nods; he has already heard this speech dozens of times and knew his parent’s wishes. According to his parents, it would be better if his book remained blank otherwise it would be a jail sentence. Blue never had a choice in the matter and had never seen the book himself. He didn’t know what he wanted yet but he already felt committed to a death sentence. \n\nBlue retreats to his room and listens to some music to calm down. After a few minutes, he hears a knock on his window; it’s Julia. He opens his window and helps the freckled brunette climb inside. He laughs as she topples onto him; she was never the thinnest girl but she was always the most beautiful in his eyes. “What are you doing? The witch is going to catch you!” Blue says helping her up from the bedroom floor. She laughs, “I couldn’t let you leave like that. You looked upset, are you alright?” she asks. He nods, “Duh, I’m used to it, I am a blank book” he says laying down on his bed. Julia looks at him concerned, “Don’t call yourself that. There’s nothing wrong with not having a set destiny” she runs her fingers through his blonde hair and looks into his blue eyes. They were so intensely blue that she had nicknamed him after he began to hate his first name. She loved Davis as much as Blue. “Davis, if you feel so lost why don’t you write in your destiny?” she asks. He groans, “It’s not that easy. My parents are animate about staying free from all that stuff” he says watching as she rummages through his things. “But isn’t it your life Davy?” Julia asks looking at him with her dark brown eyes. Blue shifts nervously on the bed, “Why are you calling me Davis again?” he asks changing the subject. She rolls her eyes impatiently, “You can’t be free forever or else you’re going to end up alone. Stop hiding from the person you’re meant to be.” Blue gets angry and shouts, “Don’t you get it? I’m not meant to be anyone! Stop pretending that you know who I’m supposed to be; just go home!” Julia looks at him in astonishment and leaves without saying another word. \n\nBlue sulks on the bed feeling lonelier than ever. As the anger continues to well up, Blue decides he’s done and gets up from his bed. He grabs a pen from his desk and sneaks into his parent’s room. He looks at their desk which is perfectly neat and looks through the drawers. Afterwards he decides to check the den. His parents had filled the den with his school pictures, trophies, and awards; maybe it was hidden amongst all his accomplishments. He moves his art awards and sees a small blue paper. As he pulls it out, he realizes that it’s his book. It’s incredibly thin with only three pieces of paper but it was his. He pulls out his pen and sits down at the table. He takes a deep breath; there were no second chances on it, he had to be perfect. He writes,\n\nDavis Aaron Valley (“Blue”) is an incredibly charismatic and gifted individual. He is known for his generosity and optimistic spirit. Although he had a rough start in life, he overcame many obstacles and proved to everyone that he was more than a “blank book”. \n\nBlue smiles and puts down his pen; it was his perfect destiny. \n", "My hands quivered as I flipped through page after page of an empty book. An empty book that was supposed to give us the answers we needed. Answers that would allow us to raise our child to become a proper citizen, one who abides by the rules set for us in the crimson pages of the New Bible. This small booklet is an excerpt from the New Bible of course. It recites the seven great stages of a child's rise from adolescence. I knew the stages off by heart, each citizen of the United New Order memorises the New Bible in it's entirety through our early educational years. The sole message written in this book however, made my brain come to a grinding halt. Between my clasped thumbs were two deep purple pages with crisp white text stretching from edge to edge that read \"Write your own destiny\". I was angry. I felt cheated.\n\n\n\"What the fuck is this?\" I screeched, throwing the book to the floor. The only answer I heard was my own heavy breathing.\n\n\nI looked down and saw the book laying on the carpet past my heaving chest. I turned towards the living room and grabbed the first pen I could find. Grasping it in my right fist I picked up the now wrinkled book and pressed it open firmly against the wall. The white text glared back at me.I stood there for a moment in silence, thinking back to my early years when each child in my class would recite the seven steps. I thought about how all the children had dreams, dreams of who and what they wanted to become and I thought about each stinging whip that was meant to suffocate those dreams. My heart fell sharply and for the first time in a long time I let myself cry.\nAnd I wrote...\n\nI wrote about all the beauty in the world. I wrote of each smiling face and of each gut wrenching frown that I had ever seen. I wrote of mountains stretching out from the horizon in all directions. I wrote of soft raindrops hidden behind the smoky glass of a far away shop filled with eccentric and lavish items from the furthest reaches of the planet. I wrote of all the things that I would never be and of all the dreams that were lost to the sting of that whip.\n\nWhen I was finished I wiped the last tear from my face and gently kissed the now filled book. I placed it under the pillow of my unborn child's crib and hoped that it's writings would fill his mind at night. I hoped that he would be stronger.", "It took us the entire nine months to agree on a name. I wanted Corbin, she was more set on Laurence. We named him Ryan. He is adorable, and that’s saying a lot because up until 3 months ago I never used the name adorable. Then I saw the 3d ultrasound of my little guy and instantly “adorable” became a part of my everyday vocabulary. Blue binkies, adorable. Onesies with little monkey’s and hippos on them. Adorable. Everything in my life had become adorable leading up to the birth of my first child.\n\nUntil it wasn’t. \n\n“Sir, could I beg of your time in the hallway, we need to speak?” a young woman with dimples and carrot blonde hair motions to me from the entrance to my wife’s hospital room. \n\n“My name is Jamira Clones, and I need to speak to you about the NBIM (New Birth Instruction Manual) for your son Ryan, it seems that we’ve incurred an error. One that we’ve never dealt with before.”\n\n“An error?” I reply\n\n“Yes, as you know every child born, comes with an instruction manual, NBIM, for their parents, or caregivers usage, it seems that your sons, well – while we have a manual, it appears to be incomplete. Blank rather.”\n\n“What do you mean blank? Let me see that” I reach to pull the dense manual from her grasp.\n\n“Sir, please do not do that, I’d like you to first speak to –“\n\n“Give me the manual, it is my right to have it in my possession”\n\n“Fine, please sign this waiver that shows you’ve received it, but I do suggest you speak with our NBIM director, so that –“\n\nI quickly sign off my name and hand her back the document which puts me in possession of my sons manual. I turn my back to her and flip through to the first page, which simply states Ryan Amere Camerlengo, 7.12.2085, and both my name and my wife’s name. The second page is blank. As is the 3rd and 4th, on the 5th page it simply states “Write your own destiny”. \n\nWrite your own destiny? What sick and cruel joke is this? What will I tell my wife? She’s been elated to receive our manual, to be the best mother to Ryan, assure of all his needs and expectations, and now I hold in my hands a blank manual. Fuck.\n\nI reenter my wife’s room quietly, shuffling my feet at a slow pace. This is not something I’m ready to share with her. But not something I can keep from her either. What parent wants to be different? To have their child be different? What does this mean for our family?\n\n“Look baby, he’s cooing, he’s looking for his daddy” my wife smiles looking back and forth between me and our son.\n\n“Melanie, we need to talk. About Ryan, about his manual” I whisper\n“What about Ryan? He’s a perfect boy,” again she looks between our son and myself.\n\n“He is different baby, his manual – his manual is blank, there are no instructions for us” I cry.\n\n“No instructions, what do you mean? What does it say? Does it say anything” she begs.\n\nI hand her the manual. She hands me Ryan. As she flips through the manual from page to page, frantically searching for some works other than those on the first page, she begins to pout. Her lips pucker and her eyes begin to water.\n\n“My mother was right, she, she was right” she cries.\n\n“What do you mean she was right?” I question.\n\nI look at my wife, confused. Searching her eyes for an answer, racking my brain to come up with my understanding of her words.\n\n“I was born with a blank manual,” she answers.\n\nI stare at her. I feel my mouth getting dry. I begin to speak but she stops me.\n\n“I knew there was a chance, I was just praying that it didn’t happen again. The responsibility of choosing ones own destiny is extremely difficult, and I’d never wish that upon anyone, but he’s here now…and we can’t change it. We have to love him and move on.”\n\nI’d never even heard of the possibility of being born without a manual, other than what was in history books, and those were always only mythical stories to me. A manual is an important part of ones life. My parents drilled that into me growing up. And now here I was before my wife and new son, two people whom I loved more than myself, and they lacked what I thought to be of such importance.\n\n“You’re right baby, we can do this, and he’ll be as lovable and likable as his mother, we can just recycle that manual, it’s useless anyways”\n", ">It started after the third world war. A ravaged earth and dwindling population meant that the remaining governments needed some way to protect the future of humanity, at least that's how they sold it. Really, it is more like a way not to lose control again. Sure, you can rule a population by fear, but fear is difficult, it requires resources. Much easier to give the people a life and let them live it, and so the Bureau of Life Production was born. \n\n\"State Your Name.\"\n\nMason Codd.\n\n\"Please explain how you came to work for the Bureau\"\n\nThat's a bullshit question, and you know it.\n\n\"Please, Mr. Codd.\" \n\nYou're born into the work here, you have to be. If people knew it was just some guy writing out the rest of their life and how to live it, who would listen? It needs to be someone special, someone beyond question, and so the you throw thousands of reports and numbers out each year to solidify faith in the system. No one understand the numbers, how could they? It isn't in their plan.\n\n\"Please explain the nature of your work for the Bureau\"\n\nTo date I have written 6,427 manuals, ranging from teachers to electricians to stay-at-home parents. The morals section is copied and pasted from a file, as is most of the childhood and the \"how to\" instructions for the parents. Sure, it gets slightly more complicated towards adulthood with first sexual experiences and all that, but nothing too difficult.\n\n\"Are you aware why you're here\"\n\nYes.\n\n\"Can you elaborate\"\n\nAnd what would be the point exactly?\n\n\"Please elaborate, Mr. Codd\"\n\nI signed off on a blank manual\n\n\"Mr. Codd, I would prefer you did not lie to the audience.\"\n\nYou asked and I answered, Fred\n\n\"This is not a casual conversation. Please tell the group why you are here\"\n\nIn how many sentences.\n\n\"As many as you find necessary.\"\n\nLast week, an assignment came by my desk. Like I said, I've written manuals for teachers, plumbers, reporters, doctors, you name it. So you must understand my surprise when a file marked \"Population Control\" crossed my desk\n\n\"The nature of our position within the Bureau is to write the lives that are assigned, Mr. Codd.\"\n\nBite me, someone let this whole thing go to their head. I'm not condemning someone to be a murderer.\n\n\"Mr. Codd, the population is rising. Now, we write limited pregnancies and births into plans, even limited deliveries by doctors, but accidents happen. They are only human. And so, occasionally, this must happen.\"\n\nDid you have a question or can I leave.\n\n\"Please tell everyone what you wrote in your report\"\n\nI told you, the report was blank\n\n\"We both know that isn't true. The people here know, and the parents of that poor child know.\"\n\nThis isn't going to keep working, this isn't a long term solution. People will figure it out.\n\n\"Not as long as we re-issue the blank manual. How you got it through is beyond me\"\n\nIf it is all the same to you Fred, I'd like to be killed now. Those parents have the manual, re-issue or not, and they've read it. Maybe that'll stick, maybe it won't. Maybe you'll have to 'control the population'. One way or the other, fuck you and the Bureau.\n\n\"Please tell the audience what you wrote, Mason.\"\n\nI wrote \"Write your own destiny\" and shipped it, I'm glad that freedom scares you." ]	4
	[WP] In a world filled with superheroes, you're the only one who doesn't have any powers.	[ "I only take 3 bookings a day now. When I first started, I was trying to do groups, and even 10 to 15 individuals in a day, which is crazy when I look back on it now. There’s just not enough time that way, and a lot of people left pretty unsatisfied.\n\nSo now I’ve reduced my bookings, sometimes even scheduling a single person for a whole day, if they are willing to pay for it. I’m not likely to ever be a millionaire with this business, but I’m doing well. And frankly, there’s no shortage of customers, seeing as I’m the only one who can provide this particular service.\n\nThey come to feel different. They come to feel special. Most of them are just curious, maybe even a bit condescending, but I never hesitate to remind them that they are just like everyone else in the world, while I’m the only truly unique human in existence. That pretty well always puts them in their place.\n\nOthers come because they absolutely want the experience of what it is like to be me. To be the one who is different, whose body and abilities are unique among all of the billions in the world.\n\nWhen I started, I tried to simulate my minimal strength and capabilities by placing them in heavy harnesses, and all manner of homemade contraptions. But I had grossly underestimated the difference between the vast power in a normal human body, and my own limited aptitudes. Gradually I moved away from the physical, and taught myself to guide my client through a meditation process to help them understand my weakness. Lots of them struggle to limit their own natural gifts, but eventually most people can get the hang of it. I answer any questions people have about the limitations of my physical form. We spend a few hours together, and I help them to live those few hours as someone they could never actually be. Just a simple, bare-bones human being. No special ability, just plain. Every one of them is very grateful when they leave, endlessly thanking me for showing them the beauty of such a special life.\n\nOf course, they like to show off their ability to fly, or punch through stone, or blast lasers from their eyes. I always used to wish I could do such things, and I spent my childhood in perpetual jealousy of my friends and all of the fun things they could do. But while they enjoyed their garden of physical wonders, I turned inwards to my own secret world. I turned to reading, studying, and growing my own inner abilities, instead of simply making-do with what fate had granted me.\n\nNow I stand apart from the rest of the world; the only human to truly reach a greater potential on the merits of my own effort. The Toughs work in labour, making easy work of the hardest tasks. The Fliers are couriers and whatnot. The Blasters are soldiers. The list is endless in its mundane normality. I’m the first and only one to break the mold, and become something completely unique in all of human history:\n\nI’m plain, and that makes me special. And they flock to me in droves to experience such a unique life, if only for a few hours.\n", "I pace back and forth in my lavish cell, restlessness my constant companion. They spared no expense to make my imprisonment comfortable. And despite their intentions, that's exactly what this was, imprisonment. No amount of delicacies will make me forget I will never taste fresh air again, no forms of entertainment will ever make up for not being allowed visitors, and all the luxuries in the world don't change the fact that I call a bunker miles beneath the surface of the Earth my home. I am the only one of my kind, and it has brought me nothing but misery.\n\nMy parents kept me a secret for as long as they could. But a secret this big could not stay hidden for long. And when word got out that such a delicate being had come into existence, it traveled faster than any of the Supers could fly. At first I was just a news headline. One especially zealous reporter would constantly phase through our walls to ask my parents what it was like to raise such a frail child. Going to school, I was never bullied. Not because I had any friends, but because their playful rough-housing would have literally killed me. At the time my mother hated it. It seems like a vacation compared to now.\n\n When I started to age is when things truly took a turn for the worst. In the world of Supers, everyone is perpetually in their prime. No sickness, peak physical performance, the absolute embodiment of perfection. Supers do not die from natural causes, and it takes one hell of an unnatural cause to put one down. But not only did I not have an special gifts, but my body was starting to show signs of wear. It was then that the collective lightbulb of the Supers turned on, and I was seen for what I truly was...mortal. This drove a massive divide in the world, although to my eyes it was two sides of the same coin. On the one side were Supers who saw the very fact that I drew breath insulting, I was a gross abomination and needed to be eliminated so I could not taint the gene pool with my disgusting normalcy. And the other side are my captors, or guardians, depending on who you ask. It was a perfect world before I came along. And with perfection comes stagnancy. These Supers saw my vulnerability as something that gave them purpose. I was the personification of innocence, and needed to be protected at all costs. \n\nAnd so the two sides planted their feet, and the fighting began. When the side that wanted me dead started to win, I was swept away against my will and placed in this bunker, which is where I've been for the past three years. They claimed it was for my own safety, but were blind to the irony of what they were doing. My mortality was their most valued possession, and in order to keep it protected, they were denying me any sort of life. Well I have had enough, and have resolved to once again feel the sun on my skin, and the wind in my face. This bunker was designed to keep Supers out, not to keep me in. Even if it kills me, I will return to the world, a man among gods. ", "Tests. Thousands of tests. Tests of strength, tests of speed, and my least favorite, the test of flight.\nIve failed them all, over and over again. While other children were lifting cars or flying off of buildings i was locked in a room with a tutor who would constantly make me jump, hoping one day i would just stay in the air, but i always came back down. I spent my youth hidden away from the world, an embarrassment, a freak, a defect. My father, who had served in the military during the great invasion of the sumerikai hordes, could barely stand to look at me. My mother, she never lets me see her fly. She thinks it would hurt me too much to see how different i am, as if i somehow forgot. \nI grew up vengeful, a villain in a world of heroes. I wanted them all to know what it was like to be different, i wanted them all to feel my shame. So i studied them. Locked away in my room for hours while the world outside wallowed in happiness i learned how to beat them, how to bring the world to my level. And now the time is near. A weapon, unlike any other weapon has been manufactured at my fathers military compound to be used for terraforming other planets, they call it a \"Gravity impulse machine\". Its primary use is to drill to the core of its target planet and lower the gravity of the core so that our soldiers can fly there just as they can here. But i can reverse it, and i will. Im ready for the world to see what its like to be weak, to be a freak. With one push of a button i will cut off their wings, weaken their strength and slow their speed, DEFECT them as i have been defected. This is the last anyone will hear of me, for i know the gravitational change will surely crush me where i stand, and i welcome it. I leave this world of heroes as the only villain, but as the villain who won. " ]	3
	[WP] In the future, love is illegal and taboo. Detail the experience of a young man/woman as they fall in love for the first time.	[ "He can’t stop staring.\n\nHe tries to focus on the screen in front of him, tries to occupy his mind with the symbols and numbers that he sorts into neat, ordered patterns for a living. Structures – predictable, symmetrical models that make sense even to a mind that doesn’t understand the system they create. He has always liked numbers, and he loves his job. It suits him. Or rather, it suited him. Until she appeared.\n\nHe’s doing it again. He snaps his head away, back to the screen. It happens automatically, an impulse he can’t control. His eyes are drawn to her like moths to a flame. From his cubicle he can see the back of her head, the copper coloured hair tumbling down her back, the nimble movements of her fingers as she composes words on the screen in front of her. \n\nFor the first time, he has started to watch the clock as he works, counting the hours and minutes and seconds until the lunch break. At first he tried to convince himself it was because he recently stopped eating breakfast, but he knows it’s not true. He knows that the reason those thirty minutes have suddenly become so precious is because of her. It’s because of how she turns to look at him as they leave their cubicles, because of how her face lights up when their eyes meet, because of how her smile makes his heart feel like it’s about to soar out of his chest. They often sit together, and talk about ordinary things. He’s never met anyone who can make him laugh like she can. Sometimes a silence settles over them, and in those moments he can feel a weight in the air, the heaviness of things unsaid.\n\nPeople have noticed. He knows that they whisper, that they spread horrible rumours. It’s unnatural for two people to spend so much time together, especially two people from such different classes. He knows even from their superficial conversations that their compatibility score would be stunningly low. She would never be assigned to him as a Partner. Where he works with numbers, she works with words. She talks about a love of the outdoors, he prefers long afternoons spent inside. She dreams of possibilities, he sees the facts. They are utterly different, fundamentally incompatible. \n\nAnd yet, when he lies in bed at night he sees her face. His day revolves around those moments when his eyes lock with hers, and the rush that he feels inside when he makes her laugh. He recently stopped eating breakfast, in the hopes that they might steal a few moments together before the day begins.\n\nIt scares him, this feeling. He feels like he is standing on the verge of something great and terrible, something that he knows is wrong. Yet when their shoulders brush in a crowded corridor, or when their hands accidentally touch, there is electricity between them. A spark that sings under his skin. \n\nIf he was a better person he would quit his job, or ask to be moved. His productivity is down, his mind is unfocused, and he can barely sleep or eat. But this feeling is like a drug, and he’s an addict who’s too far gone. She’s a break in the pattern, a wildcard that has thrown his system completely off balance. Yet the thought of losing her is more than he can bear.\n\nHe’s staring again.\n", "\"Are you sure we should be doing this? What if we get caught?\"\n\n\"Troy, you mustn't worry so much about these things. Nobody is going to see us.\"\n\n\"...Okay. So how do we kiss?\"\n\n1 week earlier...\n\nI remember seeing her for the first time. I was at work at the café on 6th and Benedict St. one day when I first saw her. She was about average height, and appeared to take good care of herself. She had long brown hair with gorgeous brown eyes, and a pale face, though at the time I wasn't sure if it was because it was her natural color or if it was because of the cold outside. The rest of her body was well-bundled from the cold so I didn't have any other way to tell. \"One medium cappuccino with whipped cream,\" she said as she automatically whipped out her card. \"For Helen.\"\n\nAs she gave her card to me, she looked into my eyes; something in her stare appeared to change. Does she...like me? \"So, your name is Troy?\" she tells me, almost with a smirk. \"How did you know that?\" I asked, having never seen this girl before in my life. She started to giggle a little as she pointed at my name tag. \"You can tell it's a Monday,\" I said as I started to chuckle as well. Then I noticed the scarf she was wearing: it was a Halo-themed scarf. \n\n\"I didn't even know those existed!\" I proclaimed.\n\n\"Wow, you're one of the few guys who actually knows what this is from. That game is so outdated compared to what people are playing these days, you know?\"\n\n\"I know, it's sad. I mean the Xbox 2880 and Playstation 11 are nice and all, but sometimes it's nice to just dust off my older consoles and see what my grandparents were always saying were the best games.\"\n\n\"Haha, yeah, I know. Nobody plays it anymore, but I still play Call of Duty: Ghosts now and then. Apparently it's a classic!\"\n\n\"You have that too?! Oh man that's an awesome game! Though my grandparents never owned it. They missed out--\"\n\nI was interrupted mid-sentence as my co-worker handed me Helen's drink. \"Yay!\" she said. \"It's so cold outside, I need a warm drink to keep me going before I get to work.\"\n\n\"I hear you. Every time someone comes in it drops like 20 degrees in here.\"\n\n\"Yeah, it's bad outside. Maybe we should meet up sometime and play some games together to get our minds off the cold?\" she said with a more defined smirk.\n\n\"That would be great.\" We smiled and exchanged numbers as she started sipping her drink before braving the cold once more. It wasn't until later, though, as I left work and started my walk home, did I start to think about what could happen. You see, about 10 years ago there was a revolution. An uprising of men and women, young and old, took down the ruling elite for a number of reasons. The biggest reason was that they were sick of being romantically rejected or burned; the concept of \"love\" had devolved into simply meaning screwing someone out of their money, their house, taking their kids away from them, whatever it took to make a quick buck. There were still some good eggs out there who believed in the old-fashioned concept of love--having a lifelong companion at your side no matter what--but they were persecuted following the revolution.\n\nThe elite fell, and an oligarchy rose up, and while most laws stayed intact, all things that had to do with love were deemed illegal. Valentine's Day became Fornication Day, meaning this was the one time of the year where people could engage in sexual activities without romance in order to keep the human population stable. All objects that portrayed love--teddy bears, roses, some forms of chocolate, romantic literature--were banned, often being eradicated as mass burnings similar to what occurred in Nazi Germany. Anybody caught in romantic activities are sentenced to several things: perhaps they will be sent to \"electrical correction.\" Perhaps they are publicly shamed and castigated. Whatever the punishment, it often leads to life in prison. Being caught in a marriage is grounds for the death sentence.\n\n1 week later...\n\nHelen and I agreed to meet at my apartment. She came in covered in snow, but she pulled out a copy of CoD: Ghosts just as she promised! That was a fun time as we sat and played Ghosts for hours, only taking a break to order a pizza. Once the pizza arrived, we decided to watch a (government-sanctioned) movie from a long time ago called Jurassic Park. We were both laughing to the point of crying; I mean, giant lizards?! Our ancestors were weeeeird.\n\nFinally, the movie ended as we both calmed down from laughing so hard. \"Oh man, I have never laughed that hard before in my life,\" Helen said, \"why haven't I ever heard of this movie before??\"\n\n\"I have no idea, but I'm so happy that this exists,\" I said with tears still rolling down my cheeks. \"I definitely need to remember to show this to my friends next time we get together.\"\n\nAnd then...something weird happened. We both reached for the remote to the TV, and our hands touched. I didn't know what to do. She wasn't pulling hers away, hell she was even smiling. ...But why?\n\n\"Troy,\" she said still smiling, \"how would you feel about maybe...kissing?\"\n\n\"Kissing?\" I said, alarmed. \"Helen we can't do that. That's illegal.\"\n\n\"What's your point? Our grandparents and parents did it all the time.\"\n\n\"You're also forgetting that our grandparents and parents were killed for being married and kissing all the time. I'm not going to end up in prison for this...\"\n\n\"And you won't. Believe me, you're in an apartment with no windows, your bathroom doesn't have any electronics in there that can watch us...you'll be fine. Just follow me.\" After that she just grabbed me by my hand and took me into my bathroom.\n\n\"Are you sure we should be doing this?\" I said with a more fearful tone. \"What if we get caught?\"\n\n\"Troy, you mustn't worry so much about these things. Nobody is going to see us.\"\n\n\"...Okay. So how do we kiss?\"\n\n\"Well, you just close your eyes...\"\n\n\"Okay.\"\n\n\"...Lean your head closer to mine...\"\n\n\"Yeah...\"\n\n\"And just ^press ^your ^^lips ^^against ^^^mine... \"\n\nAnd then we kissed. A weird feeling overcame me, almost like an electrical charge ran down my body as it sent a shiver down my spine and caused my stomach to feel strange. We opened our eyes as we pulled our heads apart. \"Well?\" she said. \"That wasn't so bad, now was it?\"\n\n\"No, I guess it wasn't all that ba--\"\n\nI heard a smash. \"POLICE! WE KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE. GET DOWN ON THE GROUND.\"\n\n\"Wh-what?!\" I said. \"How did they know...\"\n\nI turned back to Helen, but was met with the barrel of a gun staring back at me. \"You should do what they say,\" she said. \"The house is clear! Suspect is in the bathroom!\"\n\nWhat is happening...\n\nThe police came in and took me away within 30 seconds. It wasn't until later that I learned that Helen was an undercover agent, a special type known as an \"earwig.\" It's her job to go around the city and fool men into making a romantic move on her, all while she was having it recorded with a special necklace she was nearing. And all that time I thought it was just a family heirloom.\n\nSo here I sit, in my jail cell, 6 months in to my life sentence, and all I can say is this: love does not exist. The human race has become too corrupt, damaged, self-centered, to ever have romance be a part of the human race again. And here I sit, wondering if the act of outlawing love was even necessary, when the number of people who wish to harm others far outweigh those who the oligarchy claimed to have quashed. Was it even necessary? Or was this just the final step we humans needed to make us equal to the technology we are surrounded by? It envelops us every day, perhaps this was all we needed to make us part of the machine..." ]	2
Edit: It doesn't have to be 100 years if you don't want it to, just a really long time.	[WP] An examination given to all high school seniors is notorious for being incredibly easy. One day, after the examination, you are called to the principal's office. For the first time in 100 years someone failed. It's you.	[ "It was a normal school day. I had just finished the exam. As we were switching classes, I heard my name called.\n\n\"TheHockeyist, please come to the office. This is very important. TheHockeyist to the office. Once again, TheHockeyist to the office. If you didn't hear me, TheHockeyist to the office NOW.\"\n\nOh god.\n\nWhat on earth could this be? I was normally a good student. I did well in all of my classes and rarely made C's. Had I failed a class?\n\nThe principal looked at me, with an evil grin on her old, wrinkled face. She opened her mouth, and because of her age, you could barely hear anything when she spoke. She should have retired by now, but for some reason, she didn't want to.\n\nShe began to utter a few sounds, which I could barely make into words.\n\n\"oo\" \"er\" eh\" er\" \"ih\" \"uh\" \"uh\" eh\" ear\" oo\" \"ail\" \"eh\" \"eh\".\n\nI could make this out as \"You were the first in one hundred years to fail the test\".\n\nWhat test? The one we took today? And normally the results wouldn't come back this early.\n\nI stood there in misbelief. The principal opened her aging voice to speak again. I tried to make out the words.\n\n\"It's true. You have failed the test.\"\n\nAdjusting her glasses, she handed a piece of paper to me, fresh out of the printer.\n\n\"Your results.\"\n\nScience - 81\n\nMath - 63\n\nHistory - 52\n\nVision test - 33 - who would put this on an exam?\n\nMind test - 14 - Why???\n\nEnglish - 0 - Normal...\n\nSpanish - 0 - Normal...\n\nAbility to tie your own shoes - 0 - What has Common Core come to?\n\nAverage- 30.375\n\nPass/Fail - FAIL\n\nOh no. This was worth 25% of my whole grade for the year.\n\nI blamed the curriculum.\n\nI asked if I could possibly retest.\n\n\"Oh\" was all I heard out of her wrinkled mouth.\n\nI couldn't retake the test? Was I doomed to fail high school?\n\n\"Eh-ssss\"\n\nDid I have to take the 12th grade over again?\n\n\"Oh\"\n\nThe high grades in my other classes made up for it. My final grade was actually an 80 for the year. I had actually passed the 12th grade and could graduate.\n\n\"Ah\" \"oh\" ow\" \"uh\" \"oo\"\n\nI'm so proud of you?\n\n\"Eh-ssss\"\n\n\"But if you get one more detention, you will not be allowed to graduate and you will have to take the 12th grade over again!\"\n\nGraduation was in a few hours. I ran back to my classroom, burst in, and screamed out to everyone that I was going to graduate the 12th grade.\n\nThe teacher gave me a very stern look. \"THEHOCKEYIST!!!!!\"\n\nDetention.\n\nDammit.", "\"Ah, we finally meet.\" The President of the World sits in his chair, gazing at you. You sit there in amazement. An hour ago you were sitting in your high school, when you were summoned to the principal's office. He told you that you had failed the HDT. \n\n\"So, you know why you are here?\" The President asked. He seemed delighted to see you, and all of his assistants were leaning forward in their chairs, quivering with anticipation. \n\n\"Yes,\" you said. The rest of the room gasped in excitement.\n\n\"Say something else!\" one of them said.\n\n\"Oookaayy,\" you drawled. Smiles broke out, and some people clapped. The President calmed them down, but he was grinning from ear to ear.\n\n\"You know that you failed the Human Development Test, but there are things that were kept from you. First, the HDT doesn't always stand for Human Development test. In your case, it stands for Human Deviation test,\" he said.\n\n\"So, I'm not a human?\" you asked. Cries of joy erupted through the room. The President shushed his colleagues like a prank caller might settle his giggling friends.\n\n\"No. You are, in fact, the reincarnation of the Human Spirit. Oh, we have been waiting a long time for this! We have always known you were who you are, and we have been monitoring you daily, but we had to make sure that it would be safe for us to reveal the truth to you.\"\n\n\"Safe? What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Well, the last time the Human Spirit became incarnate, things didn't go so well. The last reincarnation was... Hitler.\"\n\n\"Hitler?!?\" you exclaim. \"So you're saying I'm Hitler?\" \n\n\"Oh God, no. Far from it, in fact. You see, you failed the Human Deviation test in one of two ways. The good way. Because, in your case, the HDT also stands for the Hitler Derivative Test. Turns out, you are not at all derived from Hitler!\" The room broke into incoherent cries of joy. The President settled them after a moment of aggressive groveling.\n\n\"But, why? Does that mean that the essence of the Human Spirit is to be evil?\"\n\n\"No, no. You see, the reincarnation before Hitler was Jesus Christ. But the incarnation before that was also Jesus Christ. Hitler was very upset with the Jews for testing the Human Spirit via crucifixion, and he enacted his revenge. Oh, but you are nothing like that, so we have nothing to worry about now!\"\n\n\"But, if you've been monitoring me, how did you not know that I was a good person?\"\n\n\"Well, you seem to really enjoy the violent media that we test you with. And apparently you are quite...lewd.\" He put his hands up defensively when he saw you turn red. \"Oh don't worry. Masturbation is perfectly normal in all humans, and the Human Spirit is no different. Even if you were a bit excessive...\"\n\n\"But no matter! Now that we know that you are not Hitler, you can lead us into the glory that is the meaning of human life!\"\n\n\"But... but I don't know the meaning of life,\" you stammer.\n\n\"Silly boy, of course you do!\" the President cried. \"You're the Human Spirit! The meaning of life is whatever you want it to be!\"", "\"Inexplicable, I tell you . This test has been administered in all national high schools for the last century and never have we had someone actually fail. By it's very nature, it is individually tailored to each student and yet, you somehow managed to bungle even that up. For God's sake, you actually get bonus points for \"Individuality\" even for spelling mistakes ! How do you explain this,Daniel ?\" bombarded Principal Carruthers.\n\n\"I know how the system works, Sir. My brother graduated three years back and his batch was posted to Sector 8 in the Uranium mines. I haven't heard back from him since then.\" I said.\n\n\"What does that have to do with you failing ?! \" bellowed Carruthers. He was breathing heavily. A furious vein had popped out of his forehead.\n\n\"Little Ellie graduates in two years, Sir. I wanted to make sure I graduated with her so that wherever we go, we are posted together. She isn't like the rest of us. She needs her brother. She needs...me.\" I said, finishing a bit unsure. I hadn't thought twice about the decision myself and I didn't expect him to understand why I did it.\n\nWhat I didn't expect was for Carruthers to collapse into his chair. All the anger in his eyes had faded away. As he continued staring at me, he bit his lower lip, progressively looking sadder and sadder. \n\nHe pressed the intercom button on his desk and said \"Let them in, Agnes\". He then turned to look at me.\n\n\"Do you have any idea what you've done, you stupid fool ?\" he muttered under his breath.\n\n\"I know there...\"\n\n\"You know nothing. There's a reason nobody's failed the exam yet. It was, has and always will be a notoriously easy and an impossible-to-fail exam,because it was designed that way. This system was created to maximize productivity for the state from a very young age. As long as students keep taking the exam and clearing it, the Government recruits them. There are no alternatives . Nobody is allowed to fail because that means the whole system fails.\" he said in a resigned tone.\n\nSuddenly,my stomach curled up into a ball. I started sweating profusely. \"What does that mean, Sir ? \" I asked. \n\nThree uniformed men barged into the room accompanied by Ms.Agnes, Carruthers' secretary. \"Is this the mark ?\" asked the imposing man in the middle. Carruthers nodded.\n\n\"Sir, please sir,...\"\n\n\"I'm sorry Daniel.\" he said in a low voice, and just as he said it, there was a black bag over my head.\n\nAs I was dragged away from the room, the last words I heard were \"Poor Ellie. Her other brother tried the same thing three years ago. She has no one left now. Madness runs in the family. \"", "clunk This wasn't the first time Eddie had sat in this corridor.\n\nclunk Eddie had become well accustomed to this routine over the past 5 years.\n\nclunk The same four chairs sat against the wall; hard, blue, plastic, and cheap.\n\nclunk Eddie looked up from his fidgeting hands at the over-sized clock that adorned the wall opposite from him, it was five minutes to three.\n\nclunk The clock sat between two floor to ceiling windows, also between which sat a woman of indeterminable middle age. As she looked down carefully at each character she pushed with an index finger, Eddie noticed the grey roots peering through her dry sun damaged brown hair.\n\nclunk To his right was a solitary door. A frosted glass panel in the upper half obscured the opposition. All that could be seen was the shadow of his adversary; Principle Fielding, it read in thick, bold capitals.\n\nclunk Eddie had liked to brag to his classmates that the Principle knew him by name. In a school of over two thousand pupils, this was some feat. Eddie took his notoriety to be a compliment of how daring his behavior was. How he challenged those who tried to make him do what everyone else wanted.\n\nWhen he had locked the physics teacher, Mr. Benson, in the store room he had sat in this hard blue seat for nearly twenty minutes waiting for the blustery fool to shout at him.\nOnce, after scaling the walls of the English department he had only waited for seven.\nEven the time he had sneaked into the changing rooms and put the whole football teams uniforms into the showers had he waited thirty six minutes (that included the time it took for his mother to arrive).\n\nclick - creak - clunk As he stared down the principles door, it opened. He shuffled in his seat as he prepared to enter the maw.The footsteps came first; slow, methodical, rhythmic, soft.\n\nDark brown Italian leather met Eddie's gaze. His eyes traveled up the slim fitting navy blue trousers. They passed the thin leather belt with a simple buckle. Upward onto the plain, un-creased white cotton shirt. Open at the neck, the only other detail was the matching blue jacket draped over his right arm. At the head of this clean cut ensemble was a man maybe no older than Thirty-five.\n\nFor all his experience, this was something that surprised Eddie. The man took seven measured strides till he was just two feet away from Eddie, who's gaze had returned to his toecaps. The mans feet made a soft sigh as the toes pivoted to face the clock.\n\nssshhhhhh \n\nclunk\n\nNoiselessly the man floated into the seat next to Eddie.\n\n\"Edward Partridge, the principal will see you now\". The secretaries voice cut through Eddie, his voiced looked up at the source of the noise, then at the clock. Three O'Clock.\n\nHe stood up and trudged toward Principle Fielding, nine steps and he was at the door. Three more and he was inside, facing him.\n\n\"Close the door Partridge\". Eddie did as he was told. This part had been well rehearsed. He made his was toward the desk and lowered himself into the seat facing his sparring partner for the past five years. For it had been a battle for Eddie. He always had to push those above him. He wasn't angry, he was too smart to be angry, but he resented that things never fell into place for him. That he deserved good things by sheer merit of the fact that he got it, he understand how this all worked.\n\n\"Edward\", began the Principle, \"Do you know why you are here?\". Eddie shrugged. He didn't need to fight, he didn't need to argue, they were only words. What use would words be now.\n\n\"One Hundred and four years ago, we finally accomplished the ultimate goal. We were now able to synthetically reproduce any substance in any molecular order that we had ever seen or could dream of. That machine in your basement Eddie, the machine in everyone's basement, as I am sure you are aware is where you get your food from, your clothes, anything you can think of. Truly remarkable.\"\n\nEddie looked up at the old man sat across from him. Grey at the temples, and wearing his olive colored suit today with a brown shirt. One of four color combinations Eddie could recall seeing him in. But something was different in his tone this time, he could sense it. His voice seemed to lack the frustration and reprimanding vocabulary that usual assaulted him within his first minute.\n\n\"Well Edward, before the machine people used to go to school. They would learn about science, about maths, about geography, much like you do today. But why? Well they used to be able to sort people by how suitable they were for a vocation. The machine got rid of this. People didn't need to work anymore, why work when then machine could make all they needed. Even after the first machine, it cost nothing to make the next machine.\"\n\nEddie sat there, he now looked at the principle like a child hearing a nursery rhyme. Why was he telling him this?\n\n\"So what use was it for people to find jobs now they could have anything they wanted Eddie?\"\n\nEddie? Hearing the principle call him Eddie startled him. All he could do was listen.\n\n\"Well, society still needs well adjusted individuals that are able to work for the good of the group. Jealousy, poverty, envy .... it all disappeared after the machine. We had earned the right to a life of luxury, all of us. But sometimes people need some guidance you see. Robert Mitchem had shown us in Twenty-Sixty-Two that the young adult was perfectly fit into society with just the minimum of guidance until the age of sixteen.\"\n\nEddie's mouth was dry, he needed some air in it. It was his time to talk.\n\n\"Well sir, is that what this test is for .... the one in two weeks?\" quizzed Eddie.\n\nclunk\n\n\"No Mr. Partridge. That is merely the full stop in the young persons academic career. The 'test' as you call it has already taken place. The last 365 days have been your test Edward.\"\n\nWhat did this mean?\n\n\"Mr Partridge, it has been my pleasure to know you for the past five years. You have already brought me more acclaim than I should ever have imagined.\"\n\nAt this point the principle stood up, he rounded his desk until he was alongside Eddie. He stretched out his hand so that the cuff pulled up slightly, exposing a shiny silver watch.\n\n\"Edward. A man is waiting outside. You are to go with him now.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry\"\n", "\"I remember when I was first given this test. It seemed like a joke. I was going to intentionally do bad on it. But then I remembered why it needed to be done. This test determines your future. It tells you what you are good at, and what you want to be. From there, the government helps the students go into the career it chooses. But that doesn't mean you have to go that way. It's harder, yes. But you can do whatever you want to do.\" The principal looked back at me. He had been pacing through his speech for the whole past ten minutes. I leaned forward. \n\"You done, sir?\" He moved over to my side of his desk and pointed at the test. \n\"You must take this seriously. Now, we've had students like you before, and with a little encouragement, we've managed to get them to pass the test. However, if I process this now, you will fail. Is that what you want?\" I looked down at the test. The only writing on the test was my name. The rest of the document was blank apart from the questions. \n\"What if my answer was yes?\" The principal stood up and walked back to his chair. \n\"If that is the case, you will need to be eliminated.\" I stood up quite quickly, knocking the chair to the ground. \n\"Excuse me?\" \n\"There is a hidden law that only High Education officials are to know. Anyone that fails the test is to be eliminated. It's harsh, I know. But then again, we haven't had to do this in over a century.\" I started backing away towards the exit. \"Of course, if you wish to try the test again, now is your chance.\" I didn't want to die, but something in the back of my mind was telling me I shouldn't do the test. \n\"I'm sorry, but I can't.\" The principal stood. He pushed a button on his desk and I could hear the lock move in the door behind me. \n\"That's what I thought. You want to know a secret about this test? There's actually a secret code in the questions. It makes certain people not want to touch it. Certain people, like you. Humans. This world is no longer yours. You may have been able to hide your humanity, but we always find your kind.\" The principal moved towards me till we were face to face. \"Sorry, kiddo. This is our world now.\"", "I was called into the office, and faced a stern principle. They handed me the test for graduation. All the red ticks on the answer sheet indicated wrong answers, and the entire sheet practically was red in my eyes. I had failed, he said. \n\n\"Do you have an excuse, Peterson?\" he asked softly.\n\nI scratched my head nervously. I knew the answers. I was filling in the answers correctly. There was no possible way to fail unless I..\n\nI did. Oh god fuck me I did.\n\n\"I missed a question and filled in the test wrong, sir.\" I stammered.\n\nThe principal narrowed his eyes, and took my sheet to compare with another sheet. Sure as day, he noticed that I had accidentally skipped over question #11, and if I had pushed all my answers a question down, I would have gotten a near-perfect score.\n\nFucking scantrons.", "\"Principal Riley?\" you ask shyly as your head peeks through the door. \"You wanted to see me?\"\n\n\"Yes, come in. Have a seat.\"\n\nYou enter the principal's office. Walking to the chair you notice everything that surrounds you. All the plaques that scatter the wall, degrees, trophies, hunting souvenirs...\n\nYou were already intimidated by being called to the principal, but now, after seeing everything that seemingly makes who this principal actually is, fear starts to take hold. Principal Riley seems to be a person that doesn't mess around; if he wants something, he acquires it. He's the third smartest person in the state. Not just book smarts, but streets smarts as well. A tough ol' bastard, he served in the military for ten years before settling down in education.\n\n'I'm so screwed', you think to yourself as you ease into the big, soft, yet uncomfortable, chair. 'Is it really all that serious?'\n\n\"We try to make things simple.\" Principal Riley said. \"We have always wanted our students to be the best and the brightest. For a little over a hundred years, we have never had a problem. Unfortunately, now, we do. It is indeed a small problem, but a problem nonetheless.\"\n\n\"Principal Riley!\" you begin, \"I don't understand why I'm here!\" You quickly realize that you might've made a mistake. Speaking to your elders isn't exactly punishable, but is looked down upon. Your fear diminishes for a second, comes back, but you quickly regain your confidence.\n\n\"I know that the test is made especially easy. I know it's more or less something the school has to do to get approval ratings from the Board. It can be seen as a laughable after-thought and dismissed just as quickly. But why? Why am I being reprimanded for doing something that isn't really wrong? I know I got all the answers right. A baby could do it. I mean, take question number one: 'What color is an apple?' I mean, come on! The test was ridiculously easy! What have I done?\"\n\nHe let's you finish your rant. He takes in everything you had just said and swirls it around in his head. He reaches in his desk and takes out a paper and places it in front of you. You see that it is your test, the test you took two days ago. The only difference is there's a huge red FAIL stamped across it. The principal points his finger down to the upper right hand corner of the test.\n\n\"If it was so easy, why didn't you write the date?\"", "Another year, another test. Only this time was different. This was the first time the test was being verified.\n\nThe Major General stood behind the wall-screen. Through the innumerable pixels, he had an unobstructed view of the testing room. 30 students sat in 30 desks. Well, actually 32 desks, since someone had ordered more than necessary. But whatever, the number of desks was unimportant. \n\nHe considered pacing. He nearly fidgeted. But he had learned to control his habits and nervous actions long ago. Instead he stood at attention in a room full of scientists and technology, recording everything. He kept a close eye on a particular student.\n\n* * \n\nI'd never heard of the test being redone. I didn't believe the teacher or the administrators. No one had cheated. Everyone passed this test; everyone knew it was so ridiculously easy to pass that they'd never even consider cheating.\n\nI stopped letting myself get distracted and continued. The questions were different, and they were harder. Not particularly difficult still - the answers came into my mind almost unbidden it seemed. And honestly, I'm not sure where I even heard these things before. But it must be common knowledge that the United Defense Force had a Special Projects division (current leader: Major General Rockwell, secret ballet enthusiast with his wife, and connoisseur of Italian food). It seemed equally obvious that they were in charge of the test.\n\nEach question was obvious like that one. His classmate's mother was of course a widow who lost her husband in a terrible accident. His best friend's sister naturally had six toes at birth but had lost it some years later. Mr. Shan was clearly from the Philippines but lied on his immigration papers when we were at war with them over their independence. These seemed like much more esoteric questions about these people than last time.\n\nI filled in the bubbles on the old fashioned test. A. C. F. G. A. B. D. And so it went. I wondered in passing why we weren't using electronic tabulators this time. They wanted to make sure we weren't accessing the Net.\n\nThe last few questions were a bit weird, but they must have told me the answer before coming in the door. I tended to ignore what people were saying, but that never stopped me from remembering. So I filled in B. There were 7 scientists next door. And for the last question, D. Two were named Fred Hill, though not related.\n\nI finished nearly about the same time as everyone else. I stood up, walked to the teacher's desk, and handed him my test. \n\nHe was running everyone's papers through the scanner. He ran them all but mine. All green lights from the device. He stood up and announced, \"Okay, you may all leave. Except for Robert here.\" The other students stood up and made their way out, a few jokes at my expense being tossed my way.\n\nI knew he hadn't run mine yet, and I wondered why. Clearly they knew I had failed the test with the others. Wait, what? I failed? I knew I got every answer correct. And the teacher knew it too. The other students had all randomly chosen answers because they didn't have any way to know the right ones.\n\nI suddenly realized I was not supposed to get any of those questions correct.", "The last week of the first half of my senior year of high school is devoid of anything even remotely educational. All that we discuss, all that we do, all that anyone even has time for, are the OCATs. 'O' for 'omni', like a bad science fiction story. 'C' for 'career', 'A' for 'aptitude', and 'T' for 'the rest of your life', er, I mean 'test'. Everyone places a huge importance on it, because it determines where you fit in after high school--whether you get shipped off to medical school to become a doctor, or enlisted straight into the military, or whisked in front of a computer, or sentenced to become a trophy wife, barbie doll stripper, stewardess... Ugh.\n\nSure, I studied. I admit to that. Everyone studies for the OCATs. And now the principal's called me into the office to explain to me just how bad I did, that I somehow managed to bomb the OCATs, apparently to become the first person to do so in something like 100 years.\n\nGo me.\n\nI stroll through the lobby. The secretary is at her desk clacking away. She looks up at me then back at her monitor, breaking her typing stride for just a moment. There's a man sitting in a chair waiting, holding a suitcase in his lap, wearing a suit and a nervous expression. I go into the principal's office and close the door.\n\n\"Kendall...\" the principal begins. She holds up an envelope. \"I have your OCAT results here, and, well...\"\n\n\"I failed,\" I say. I like being blunt.\n\n\"Well...\"\n\n\"That's why the other students get theirs in their classroom, and I get to come down here to talk about it.\" I cross my arms.\n\nShe forces a smile. \"You know how important the OCAT is for your future. You have your whole career ahead of you. I can hardly imagine a smart girl like you doing so poorly, on all metrics.\" She hands me the envelope. It's still sealed; the school has the results on the computer, of course. I open it and scan down the page. I got the minimum possible score on six sections, 2 points in three others. A statistical unlikelihood. And I'd left the essay blank. It would have made the test harder to bomb as a whole had I answered it at all, but leaving it blank made it rather obvious what I'd been trying to do.\n\nThe principal speaks as I read. \"Kendall, the Oxcar admins--\" [Oxcar, the company that produced the OCAT] \"--came to the same conclusion we did. You intentionally failed. Not cheated, but intentionally failed.\" She clasps her hands together and shifts in her seat, leaning toward me. \"They told me there's only one thing they can do now, and they've sent Mr. Riley here today to explain that to you.\" She pauses. \"I'm going to bring him in now, if that's okay.\"\n\nShe walks around the desk, opens the door, and invites the nervous man inside. He steps inside, murmurs a greeting, gives a weak handshake, and sets his briefcase on her desk. \"Thank you, Mrs. Lu. I'm afraid this needs to be a private conversation between me and Ms. Roulska.\" The principal nods and escapes the office.\n\nThe Oxcar rep smiles at me again and half-sits on the edge of the desk. \"My name is Jed. May I call you Kendall?\"\n\nI shrug. \"Sure, why not. So what's going to happen to me?\"\n\n\"Ah,\" he says, scratching his head. \"You want the short version. Well, the short of it is that we have to test you again. We usually reserve re-testing for students with abnormal results, that is, where the aptitude measurements disagree with each other, or for the students who did so well in all sectors we have to give them a more precisely calibrated test.\"\n\nI groan and put my face in my hands. \"You mean I have to sit through that thing again? It was murder the first time!\" Three 3-hour sessions, with only minor breaks in between.\n\nJed laughs. \"No, no, Kendall, nothing like that. For one, it's a take-home test instead of tightly proctored.\" He opens his suitcase and pulls out a large manila envelope, handing it to me. \"This is one of the tests we might give to the more talented students; I have to ask you not to talk about it. Work on it over the weekend--over winter break if you need more time--and I'll pick it up whenever you're finished.\"\n\n\"Yeah, okay.\" I flip it over, glance at the instructions for printing my name, sealing the envelope, all the good stuff. It was the same kind of envelope we used during the actual OCATs. Jed's name and ID number were printed as the proctor.\n\n\"For another,\" Jed says, \"it's really short.\"\n\nI pull out the one sheet of paper inside. It is blank aside from a single line near the top, a simple open-ended question: \"What do you want to be?\"", "\"Todd Harriet, please come down to the principal's office immediately.\" I heard on the intercom during 3rd hour.\n\nI looked around. I was normally relaxed 3rd hour, because math was my best subject. I got up out of my chair. No one seemed to care. Everyone was focused on today's worksheet, which I finished quickly. I just walked out the door. I looked behind me, no one cared that I left. I walked down the stairs and out to the courtyard toward the office. I walked past a few students, and they gave me very blank, icy stares. I was fairly popular, and my name was blasted over the intercom. I thought I was being commended for a good deed or something. I walked into the front office, and everyone was glaring at me. I sat down in the principal's office. He wasn't there but I assumed he went to grab something of importance. He came in the room with a blank expression and a vanilla folder. \n\n\"So, Todd. You know the test we took a week ago?\" Principal Garret asked.\n\n\"Yeah, it was really easy.\" I answered.\n\n\"Well, as you know, to graduate and move on to university you have to at least pass on every subject on this test.\" He said.\n\n\"Yeah, what happened? Did I get an amazing grade on all of them?\" I asked with a little grin on my face.\n\n\"Well, yes, but on the mathematics portion, you scored a 34 out of 100 possible points.\" He said.\n\n\"What? How is that possible? Math is my best subject.\" I said with a dropped jaw.\n\n\"Well, yes, I know. But here it is plain as day, that you failed the mathematics portion of this test.\" He said while pointing at the numbers.\n\n\"But... I... What does this mean?\" I asked.\n\n\"This hasn't happened in 100 years. The rules explicitly state, you must be demoted to the lower class tier.\" He said.\n\n\"But my parents are of high class tier. If I go down to the lower tier, I lose everything. Even my right to call myself their son.\" I insisted.\n\n\"Well, there is nothing I can do. My hands are tied here Mr. Harriet.\" He responded.\n\n\"This can't happen Mr. Garret! I can't live with lower tier people!\" I argued.\n\n\"Sorry, but you must be removed. Guards?\" He said.\n\n\"NO! NO! NO!\" I screamed.\n\nAH!\n\nI woke up suddenly. My heart was racing faster than a brand new sports car. I looked around myself, endless papers and books. I think I was studying for the test. I need to study now, don't want to be demoted. I grabbed my calculus book, not a single paged touched. I opened it and studied\n\nChapter 1 The Numbers and What They Mean. ", "I sit nervously in the waiting room look around me rubbing my arm. It's still a little sore from the test yesterday. I know there wasn't much to it, but it's still affecting me. The school secretary is hitting away at the keys of her computer, glancing over at me every so often. Honestly, she doesn't look a day over thirty, so I'm stealing glances at her when she isn't looking. The door to the principal's office suddenly opens startling me. \n\n\"I don't want to hear about why you started a fight with your teacher, just go back to class and apologize.\" The principal said to the underclassman being ushered out the door. \"Ah.\" The principal exclaimed, looking at me, \"Mr. Sanders, please come in.\" I noticed that the secretary whispered something to the principal as I made my way to his door. Stealing one last glance at the secretary, I noticed the plaque on her desk read Beth Roberts. She saw me staring and smiled. \n\n\"Close the door behind you, will you Eric?\" The principal said to me, sitting at his desk. I closed the door and took a seat on the other side of the desk at his request. \"Now, do you know why you are here today?\" He gave me a quizzical look. Much like the secretary, the principal was actually a fairly young looking man, probably in his thirties. He didn't give off an angry or intimidating demeanor so I couldn't understand why I was there. During the summer no less. \"No, I didn't even realize you could get me after graduation.\" I said without thinking.\n\nThe principal just laughed at me, not realizing I wasn't making a joke. \"Well, I'll tell you why you're here.\" He said, his voice becoming more playful. \"Your classmates are dead.\" \n\nIt took me a second to realize what he said. \"What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"Your classmates are dead and you are the only one left alive. That is why you're here.\" He said smiling. \n\n\"Principal Morty.\" I began, \"I don't-\"\n\n\"Please call me Daniel.\" He said cutting me off.\n\n\"I don't understand... They died? All of them? How?\"\n\n\"Well... Yes, they died. Yes, all of them. We killed them. By we I mean the administrators.\"\n\n\"Administrators? Of what?\"\n\n\"The test Eric, the test that was administered. You know, the one making you rub your arm. That test!\" He exclaimed jovially.\n\n\"What the fuck!\" I yelled, standing up from my seat quickly. \"What the hell was that test! It killed all of my classmates? All of my friends? Why would there be such a test?\"\n\n\"It's a mortality test, and you failed. All of your friends however, passed. You are the first one in a very, very long time to fail. I welcome you to the club.\" Daniel stood up and opened his arms as if he were going to embrace me.\n\n\"Put your arms down! What is this mortality test?\" I yelled, more enraged at how lightly he took my classmates' deaths than the deaths themselves.\n\n\"Alright, I will tell you everything.\" Daniel sat down and gestured me to do the same. I reluctantly did so. \"Good, now let me explain. You see, the mortality test was implemented thousands of years ago to test for immortals. The most recent before you being Miss Elizabeth Roberts. You know her as the attractive secretary outside of my office. You are living in a world filled with immortals. Everyone younger than you will most likely be dead by the time they finish graduating high school. Of course, it'll be a week after the test is administered. However, once every couple of hundred years, an immortal will be born. The immortal will not be affected by the test and at the most,\" he said gesturing at my arm, \"your arm will get a little sore. Any questions?\"\n\nI sat there in awe at all the information given to me before saying, \"What the fuck! How can you do this to people?\"\n\n\"They were weak Eric, simple evolutionary failures. We immortals however, you, me, Miss Roberts, your parents, all of the adults you know, we are the elite beings in the universe. All of them approve of this.\" The principal said calmly, as if he had been through this hundreds of times before. \"It's shocking at first, but before long all of your friends will be nothing but a minor part in your infinite life. You will get used to it, I promise\" He smiled again.\n\n\"But what about their parents? Won't they be upset their kids are dead?\" I asked feeling my resistance getting weaker.\n\n\"They have had hundreds of kids who have gone through the same deal. They grow up to become seniors in high school, die, and repeat. Over and over again. Any final questions?\" He asked.\n\n\"Just one more.\" I asked, feeling the aggression leave my body, \"Why do you call it a mortality test and not an immortality test?\"\n\n\"That's because if we called it an immortality test, then most people would fail. They probably wouldn't want the last thing they know before they die be that they failed. So we tell them they pass and all immortals fail. Thus, the reasoning for the name!\" He said with enthusiasm. \n\nI got up to leave when he called out one last time. \"Ah yes, Eric, I have one last thing for you.\" I turned around to see his hand moving under his desk. The sound of paper shuffling came out. He lifted his hand to reveal a rolled up piece of paper. Extending his arm out and smiling he said, \"Congratulations on graduating, you have your whole life ahead of you.\"", "\"Finally,\" my principal said.\n\nFinally?\n\n\"For a century this test had been implemented. Thousands, if not millions, of people have taken it. The brightest and the dimmest, the gentlest and the coarsest. I-\"\n\nPrincipal McGuire dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief; he was incredibly nervous. His near-panic state wasn't helping assuage my fleet of worries.\n\n\"Canton Fields, you are the first individual in one hundred years to fail the Final Equivalency Exam. And I am immensely proud of you. Have you ever wondered as to why it is called the 'Equivalency Exam', Canton?\"\n\nMy thoughts tumbled as if they were in a clothes dryer. Reaching my hand into that chaotic place and snatching the first thought that fell into my hand, I stammered,\n\n\"N-not really, sir. But wh-\"\n\nPrincipal McGuire interjected.\n\n\"Shh, Canton. All will be revealed soon enough. I've not much time to explain to you what your failure means,\" he formed apostrophes with his fingers around the word 'failure', \"but I believe I will manage.\"\n\nHe removed his ovoid glasses and folded them gingerly, placing them on his desk with trembling fingers. I looked towards my lap and at my hands; they matched his resonance. Our vibrating bodies could burrow into the ground if we continued.\n\n\"Canton, your failure is the first. And that makes you different. Different than every other human being that has received an education from the United Earth Government. You are probably an anxious, nervous wreck. I am too, as you can see. But I assure you, you are in no trouble, young friend. None at all.\"\n\nMy eyes met his, my hands gripped the armrests of the chair that I was drenching with sweat.\n\n\"You have failed a test that every human being is adept at, and that elevates you above everyone else. This test was designed to single out the one person who could rise above the masses, who could be so vastly different that they would stand alone. Land guides the river, Canton. An island parts the flow. You are that island, Canton.\"\n\nHe made no sense. Absolutely none. I was desperate to ask questions, but every attempt to raise my hand or voice was met with a \"shh\".\n\nPrincipal McGuire looked out of the window, past the trees and cars and into the horizon.\n\n\"This is confusing, for you and I both. I had never imagined that I would be the one to meet th-\"\n\nHis voice trailed off and his eyes spoke of a mind that was far away.\n\nHe snapped his gaze back to mine. \n\n\"My apologies,\" he said after clearing his throat. \n\nHe made to begin speaking again, but the hum of a flotilla of vehicles emerged within our hearing range.\n\nMy eyes bore into him, beseeching an answer. He smiled feebly.\n\n\"What is going on?! Tell me, PLEASE!*\"\n\nI then saw numerous cars of varying shapes and sizes glide into the parking lot. In the distance, helicopters sliced through the air towards the school. Towards me.\n\nPrincipal McGuire stood up, swallowed hard, and emitted a trembling voice,\n\n\"Canton, your destiny awaits.\"\n\nHe strode to the door and opened it." ]	12
	[WP] You're a tier 2 superhero whose job is to clean up major cities after more famous superheroes wreck them while on the job. Most heroes with your abilities would be more famous but you're happy with your job. Why?	[ "\"But you could be saving the world!\" said Anchor, looking exasperated with me yet again. \"With your abilities, you would do so much good!\"\n\nAnchor, the most famous of us Supers, was so named because everyone in the world relied on him. He was everything people aspired to be, the epitome of the word \"superhero,\" along with the rest of his Tier 1 team, the Guardians.\n\n\"I do enough good here,\" I replied, as I always have. \n\nHe shook his head. \"Your skills are wasted here. Wasted.\" With that he flew off. \n\nI shook my head and waved my hand at the rubble on the street, rubble that had once been homes and landmarks. The people who had been cleaning their former residences all watched as everything lifted into the air.\n\nIt was brief, the glimpse into their minds-I never want to be too invasive- but it was enough to show me what all of the homes had once looked like.\n\nUsing my gift of telepathy, it only took a few moments for things to be restored. \n\nThe tier 1 guys didn't get it. They saw their actions as saving the world-and that was fine for them. They saw the forest, but not the trees.\n\nMe? When I used my abilities, I could see lives, memories... everything. I could lift things with a thought. I could see why the world was worth saving.\n\nI worked for the people, helped them with what was dear to them, and I could feel their gratitude for it. \n\nWho needs to be tier 1 famous when you can feel that gratitude every time you help save a life that people thought gone in the latest fight? \n\nSmiling, I nodded to the people thanking me and began to move to the next area that needed my aid.", "Ah, they were at it again. Tank and Deathmask never could have a calm discussion, and, as I stood on the top of the water tower about six miles out of town, I got a pretty good view of their attempt at working through whatever disagreement they fabricated this time. I wonder if Deathmask gave another one of his rousingly depressing speeches about morality and futility again, or if Tank woke up wrong and just decided to pick a fight. I guess I would find out soon enough.\n\nI watched as Tank grabbed ahold of Deathmask’s cape and flung him into the side of a cinderblock bank two blocks down. The smaller man slid out of the crater he left in the side of the building and slumped into the rubble. Seconds later he jerked upright, like a marionette, and began stumbling his way back to his opponent.\n\n“Why do you build me up (build me up) Buttercup, baby, just to let me down…”\n\nPhone! I started patting myself down, starting with my back pockets, moving towards the front and then up to my bra. Empty. Phone, phone, phone…where did I put that?\n\n“…and mess me around, and then worst of all (worst of all) you never call, baby, when you say you will…”\n\nRight! I left my bag down by the fence when I heard the beginnings of Tank and Deathmask’s fight. With a little hop I jumped off the side of the tower and landed, softly, at its base. My phone was still singing when I finally found which pocket it was hiding in.\n\n“Ms. Breeze, at your service.”\n\n“Really, Bree, you should consider changing your name. It’s laughable.”\n\nI smiled into the phone, not replying to Edge’s comment. Of course my name was silly. That’s what happens when there you just don’t care. “Is this about Tank and Deathmask?”\n\nHe let out a long, martyred sigh. “Always. You’re part of the team cleaning up District 7. Meet Bauble, Max, and Re-Do on the corner of Milbrook and Main.”\n\n“Alrighty!” Disctrict 7! I loved District 7. All the kids come out and play when we go over there, and there’s an elderly home that’s in the area…hopefully nothing too bad has happened. Ever since supers have made themselves known and fought their epic battles in major cities, I’ve been on the clean-up crew and have been slowly rebuilding all of the buildings. It took a while, but I eventually convinced everyone that cement and cinderblock homes were the safest bet, even if it did make our city look more like a military compound than a bustling metropolis.\n\n“Bree.”\n\nAh, that tone again.\n\n“Stop asking, Edge.”\n\n“I will when you give me a real answer. Your powers are just as good as Tank’s, if not far more useful. Why do you keep sticking yourself on clean-up crews? You know The League has been asking about you again.”\n\nI turned back towards the city and watched as Deathmask fell on Tank like a ton of bricks. The big lug was too muscle-bound to get out of the way quickly enough. The asphalt rippled up and around them, shattering the roads and weakening the foundation of nearby buildings. “Because someone has to help the people, not just look like they are.” So many homes and businesses have been ruined by the super battles. So many families displaced. I worked the jobs only the weak supers could get so that I could actually help the people of my city. Food drives for those who lost their jobs, shelters for those who lost their homes, clinics for those injured by the debris…that was where I needed to be. I didn’t need a super cool codename for a kickass suit for that, and the people seemed to like me more for it.\n\nSo I was Ms. Breeze, City Worker. My superhero outfit was a ratty blue jumpsuit and some worn-out boots. It might not have been as flashy as Deathmask’s black, white and red spandex, but it made me smile every morning when I put it on.\n\n“If you say so, Bree. You better get going. Bauble’s getting anxious.”\n\n“On my way!” I tossed the phone back into my bag, threw it over my shoulder, and jumped into the sky, catching the breeze back into town.\n" ]	2
	[WP] Emotions/Feelings are literal creatures that humans set out to capture so they may become whole.	[ "The flames seemed to blaze so high they licked the night sky. It was a gentle spring dawning, especially significant of new adventures. Every year at this cycle of the sun the children were prepared. Since they had been born they were trained in the art of trappings, stealth, stalking, tracking, and most importantly how to subdue a creature and force them to obey. The culmination of training led to this; the Rite of Passage. In order to become a normal full fledged Human and move towards a full life one must first go through the Rite. The drums sounded slowly in a constant steady beat. Chanting from the Elders could be heard as if offering prayers for a successful hunt. The Children came forth in military fashion; all in uniformed steps, all expressionless, and seemingly like puppets on strings. This was their Rite. This was what they have been training their whole young juvenile life, and yet nothing. No one was anxious; no one was excited; no one was angry, fearful, overwhelmed, in fact no one felt anything at all.\n\n“Welcome Children! Welcome to your night! Although you cannot feel it just yet- this night is the beginning of everything for you!” The Tribal Elder boomed his powerful words over the crackle of the flames and the drums seemed to almost diminish to a small tapping. The chants became hums as the Leader continued.\n\n“This marks your first step into a new world. This Hunt is significant in that it is never ending. You will continue to sharpen your skills and continue to hunt newer creatures. In doing this you will learn new things and feel new things. This night is important because it marks your first! What creature you catch first determines your fate. It will determine how you will survive in this world, good or bad. Now go! And do not return until you captured three creatures!” \n\nThey were brothers- Regulus and Teremus from birth. They decided the most effective way was to hunt together. Into the woods they went. Once far enough away from the village, the brothers set up camp and prepared their traps. Almost immediately they heard a rustle behind them. Instincts took over and the brothers fell to the ground. Regulus nodded to Teremus and the two separated. Regulus scales a nearby tree and Teremus circles the beast. No fear, no hesitation; it was almost methodical how the two worked in unison. Not quite approaching the beast Teremus throws a large rock forcing the it towards Regulus. Regulus immediately falls onto the beast. A small whine and bark was released as the scared beast fell to the ground. \n\n“A marvelous beast you have caught brother!” Teremus nods in improvement. \n\n“Thank you brother… It appears as though we have caught a dog.” Regulus done as he was taught and scratched the creature behind the ear until it yielded. They were told that these beasts were a natural Human companion. \n\n“Alas brother you are ahead of me in the Hunt… Animals only pass on their trait once… Unless we find this dog’s companion we will have to Hunt for another beast that I may catch up.” Teremus explained nonchalantly. \n\nWith a nod and a thump to his chest Regulus rejoiced, “No worries brother, I vow that we shall not rest until you have gathered your beasts. I shall not leave your side nor shall I work any less hard.”\n\nThe day passes and the brothers make their way the river. Teremus jumps in leaving his brother behind. Swimming he notices a small cave and makes his way towards it. Exploring he sees a couple of small creatures scurrying about on the floor in fright. They are too quick on their feet and too small… before he is able to reach down to snatch at the tiny creatures they have already scurried into the cracks and walls of the cave. Teremus moves on and the feeling of disappointment never even crosses his mind. \n\nUnknown to him he steps in the wrong spot. It appears there is another hunter in the area. A sharp bite to his ankle and Teremus falls down. He can feel something sliding up his leg. Reacting quickly he knocks the creature away stumbling and stumbles towards the entrance. Regulus awaits him.\n\n“Are you all right brother? I am sorry I was not with you! I should have been there,” Regulus says with a sense of loyalty to his injured brother.\n“It is nothing Brother but I shall need your help before I loose feeling in my leg.” \n\nBandaged up and splint in place, Regulus wraps Teremu’s arm around his shoulder and helps him back to camp. Teremus stops Regulus and points to a trap that has been sprung. \n\nA white feathered creature is in side, its appendages beating the air in effort to get out. Regulus sets Teremus down and runs forward to the creature. \n\nTeremus looks towards his Regulus and this feeling comes over him. Why did I get bit and he did not? How is it that he gets the first creature and now this one? When shall I receive my dues? Are we not equal? We had the same training, we had the same mentality, and we both start this hunt equal. This is not right… I am injured… That creature should have gone to me! Teremus screams in his head. No… I will get my dues- I just have to wait… He shall soon know that what is his is mine, and what is mine is mine…\n\nRegulus removes the creature. He gently cups it in his hand nodding gently. He looks over to his brother and smiles. A new sense of accomplishment for the Brothers future plays in his head. Regulus and his brother will help each other. A bright beautiful feature will be accomplished and they will experience new emotions and grow into an All Feeling together. After all they started this journey together and they will end it together… right?\n", "There is a saying the children must recite every morning:\n\nYou cannot build a temple from the second floor.\nFirst comes the foundation.\nThe foundation are wariness.\n\nThe meaning is simple. You never capture anything before you capture a wariness. It is an undisputed fact that wariness is the most critical emotion to human survival, and that without it, you cannot have the caution to properly respect the hierarchy of emotions. Without it, you simply blunder through life, grasping whatever you can, and soon you will find yourself hopelessly imbalanced.\n\nI know this better than most. Better perhaps than all but the imbalanced themselves. You see, I work with them every day. The imbalanced are my patients.\n\nIf there is a God, he was merciful enough to make wariness abundant and easy to capture. Most capture one by their fourth year. However, if there is a God, he must also have a twisted sense of humor, for he saw fit to give us one emotion at birth. \n\nCuriosity.\n \nIsolation is often not enough to contain a toddlers endless desire to discover its new world. Sometimes an emotion slips past our protection, and they grasp something they shouldn't. \n\nA fear found its way into the cradle of one of my patients. The parents were too poor to protect it properly. The poor thing grabbed on like babies are inclined to do.\n\nBefore she entered our care and we sedated her, she had done nothing but cower in the corner of her room, crying and covering her face. Her parents force fed her as best they could. For three years. She was severely malnourished before we began treatment. She was always screaming too, but silently. She must have ruined her vocal cords in the first few days. Can you imagine? Knowing nothing but fear?\n\nIf there is a God, he must be incredibly strict. No one can capture an emotion for you, you must do it yourself. That poor girl's only hope is that a courage or a calm blunders into her arms someday. Nearly impossible, of course. Its well known that even calm are far more elusive than you would think, especially in the face of fear.\n\nI've been very fortunate. I've built my temple almost exactly to plan. In my adolescence I captured lust before shame (which, needless to say, was pretty embarrassing for everyone) but a few weeks later was able to rectify the situation. I've even been fortunate enough to come across a altruism, which is rare for my age, and I think is why I make such a good doctor.\n\nToday I'll be taking a man who captured pride before humility on a hunting trip. He hates the idea because he also had the misfortune of capturing a narcissism he mistook for a confidence. But he does have love and shame, and is willing to be dragged along for the sake of his family.\n\nIf there is a God...Never mind. Look at me rambling! I need to keep my cynicism in check. It's hard without serenity. I hope I catch it someday.", "He sits back in the armchair, face framed in smoke curling up from a pipe. Barely a hint of light pierces the gloom, all of it courtesy of a dying fire in the hearth. The flickering light casts moving shadows across his bony face, making it look more like a bleached skull than a human head.\n\nHe stares across the room, dark eyes smoldering with lifeless malevolence. He takes a long pull from his glass of whiskey, and at first a look of quiet contentment crosses his face. Just as suddenly it's gone. He slams the empty tumbler back down on his armrest.\n\nIt startles the creature. She lay on her side, shivering on the cold stone floor. Her lanky, dark green limbs were all curled up in a ball, and even that spindly tail of hers lay tightly cemented against her legs, tip wrapped about one ankle. The loud noise makes her reflexively scramble to her rear, hands protectively shielding her face. The rusty metal chains on her wrists and ankles clatter like pans in a sink. After a moment she relaxes and looks across the room at the armchair, blinking her bright yellow eyes. Her scaly lips tremble. She doesn't try wriggling out of her chains.\n\nShe knows better than that, by now.\n\nHe keeps his eyes fixed on the creature, face twisting with an equal mixture of desire and hatred. She was everything to him. Everything. All his life he sought her: through deepest jungle, across hottest sand, and into the darkest pits the world could know. She and hers were the stuff of legend. He knew from the moment he first learned of their existence that they could give him what he needed; they could make him whole.\n\nAnnie never put much stock in the tales, he remembered. That was a shame, especially when she decided that she couldn't go on his quest. He saw a woman at market the other day with two little kids in tow, and it made him think about her. He thought that woman looked happy, and he wondered if Annie was happy, too, wherever she was.\n\nBut, of course, how happy could she be? What did she know about 'happiness'?\n\nThen of course there was Stevens. Sure, he was a lifelong friend- much like a brother, in fact- but Stevens simply didn't understand, either. He needed that money to finance his expeditions into the wild; it was the only way he could ever find what he was looking for! And Stevens called it 'embezzlement'? No, he simply didn't understand. Stevens was quite the fool, in fact; as soon as he returned, creature in tow, he tried to pay Stevens a visit to show her off. Fool wouldn't even see him. He wouldn't even return his calls. Ridiculous!\n\nThe man absently pushes his whiskey glass away, and it tumbles to the stone floor, shattering. This makes the creature wince again, and as he rises out of his armchair she shies back, scooching across the floor until she's against the wall. He towers over her like a golem, lips curled, and he slowly beckons with one finger.\n\nThe creature balls herself up tighter. In response he thrashes her ear with a closed fist, then kicks her in the side. She crumples to one side, coughing in pain, and then he beckons with his finger, again. Whole body trembling, she slowly lifts her head up, eyes tightly shut. She exposes a small prong jutting from her forehead, like a unicorn's horn worn down to a ruddy nub.\n\nThe man smiles and reaches out for it. When he touches it he feels those wondrous waves washing over him, like warm sunshine bathed in honey.\n\nIt was the best way he could describe it, really.\n\nThe man's face turns warm and serene; his lips part and he closes his eyes, groaning with pleasure. After a moment he releases the creature's horn. Almost immediately that empty, cold sneer returns. He glares down at the creature, his eyes again lifeless.\n\nIt really was for the best that all those other fools let him be, he thought. They didn't understand. They couldn't. Fools like Annie and Stevens made for very poor company, indeed.\n\nNo: he had everything he needed, right here.\n\nThe man shuffles through the door. He looks back at the creature, now shivering on her side, again, huddling herself back into that protective ball. He grumbles out a few words to her:\n\n\"Until tomorrow, Ecstasy.\"\n\nHe slams the door; the locks click like nails driven into wood.\n\n\n", "Hate with it's glowing red eyes and sharp claws, Envy with it's rough green hue and gripping appendages, Greed a light gold with talons to secure itself, Lust with red plumage and wings to soar, Pride a brazen orange with white striping fancying themselves king, Apathy with it's dull grey hue and bored black eyes. All beings forced into domestication centuries ago. These creatures had been growing side by side with humans for centuries, they are our constant companions. Many families deal in the trade of these poor creatures, offering a cornucopia of creatures that you might see at the heels or on the shoulder of any number of people during your average day. Then there were families like my own, who specialized in the exotic. \n\nFrom birth my family had trained me to tread with no Emotion. It is largely unheard of for humans to stray from their Emotions even when at home, you see we need those bonds. Without a creature at one's side it becomes easy to forget yourself. Your mind will wander and slip, staying focused without an Emotion proves near impossible for many. It is for this reason that when a new member of our family is born they go without emotion for the first few years of life. Young ones are only capable of claiming simple emotions anyway, and all positively boring. Doing without is necessary to act as our business requires. \n\nMy family deals in Passions. They are stronger, more exotic, and infinitely more beautiful than a simple emotion. They range from love, to empathy, to forelorn. It has proven profitable for us to capture and tame these Passions so one with normal Emotions might bond with them. This is why we do without Emotions as children, so that when working to temper our Passions we can comfortably slip to cold, and calculating states if we lose control. It is also said in our family, that this state of mind allows to more easily bond with our houses Creature, Wisdom. \n\nOf course, to me this was all theory until today. I had been on many hunts, but never been given freedom to act on my own. I had never been given reign to try my hand at claiming a Passion of my own. Today, this was set to change. We had set off in the early morning, my mother, father, older brother, and I all rode matching ATVs out into the great Sand Sea. It was here that some of the worlds most sought passions roamed in the wild. Soon we spotted a heard of Wisdom. Great, large Creatures with their giant skulls and floppy ears, great white tusks, and grey wrinkled skin. There was no mistaking these Creatures for Emotions, it was plain for all to see that these were beings who moved with the power of Passions. \n\nWith it being our houses Creature, it had become tradition for one to attempt Wisdom as their first Passion, and so I knew that I would try my hand at the hunt today. As we drew near the herd, you could sense their unease. These were Passions, and they would not come easily or simply out of want. These were Wisdoms, and they would not bend to anyone. I knew that today I would finally claim a Passion.\n\nNear enough to approach on foot now, I quickly dismounted my vehicle and began to draw near these marvelous Creatures. I knew that any hesitation and my family members would quickly claim the strongest of the herd, so I moved to act. Standing on the outskirts of the group was the largest of the heard, a great lumbering beast with a scar running down his right flank and a tusk that had lost its point at some time. I could sense his strength, but strength is not the root of wisdom and I knew he was not the beast I came for. Near him to the left was a female, of nearly equal size. She had to have been one of the five largest in the herd of some thirty. Her skin was a softer grey than most, and made me think of heavy clouds fit to drop rain on land to bring good harvests. Her ears hung low, and as I watched she shook her head from side to side sending them flapping like the wings of a great flying Creature. When she finally settled, with a steady turn her eyes took me in.\n\nAs the Creature took my measure, it was plain to me that I had come here today for her, and I would not leave without. I gradually approached the herd, arms extended wide to show I meant no malice. As I progressed, my eyes stayed fixed on the Wisdom I now sought for myself, as she kept her own eyes fixed upon me. When I stood no more than ten paces from her, I stopped my advance. \n\nFor many years I had been working with Passions, but they had all been tempered and tested by my family before me. This was not even the first Wisdom I would ever connect with, but I could easily tell that this was different than all I had done before. This Passion was wild, and would not be made my own if it did not desire it. Still a mere ten paces away, I did what I had done in practice for years. I bent forward at the waist until my body was perpendicular with ground. To the Wisdom I exposed the back of my head, and began to wait. This Creature would take me in, and if she saw that I was worthy would come willingly. With silent anticipation my body resonated with tension. I waited for a count of five, ten, twenty, thirty. The Wisdom had made no move as of yet, and I resigned myself to rise and back away slowly. Once erect I saw that she still had her eyes fixated on me. Not wanting to startle her, I slowly inched my right heel back to begin my retreat. As my weight shifted onto that foot, the Wisdom saw my intent to leave. It was now that she finally began her advance to close the final gap. When she was near enough to touch, I reached out to stroke between her eyes the size of my fist. At my touch you could sense her growing comfort.\n\nWhen I felt the time had come, I touched my forehead to her own. In that instant when our flesh met, we became one and all that was myself and all that was this Wisdom merged to truly let me see why it was we sought these passions with such Desperation.", "The air was rank. Georgia had to cover her mouth and nose with her hand as she walked. The man in front of her made no such gesture, simply wrinkling his nose up in a way that made his mouth rankled. \n\n\"As you can see, our previous help was less than satisfactory.\" Georgia nodded to him, leaving her hand in place. She didn't want to show the disgusted expression on her lips. She had seen bad menageries before, but this was something new entirely. How long had it gone unattended?\n\n\"There are 21 of them in all.\" The man said. \"One of each. You will find they all have been labeled, so you should have no problems identifying them.\"\n\n\"Of course, sir\". She spread her fingers just enough to allow the words to pass through clearly. \"Which 4 are you missing?\"\n\nThe man's brow furrowed. \"Longing, Envy, Shame and Optimism.\" He stiffened. \"Not that I have any need for them, of course.\"\n\nGeorgia nodded. Envy and Shame were rarely collected. Longing and Optimism were exceptionally expensive, and she was sure Mr. Cline had never caught an Emotion on his own.\n\n\"No, sir, absolutely. Your collection is grand.\"\n\nThe pair came to a halt at one of the great black cages and Georgia turned to look inside. At first the cage seemed empty, and she turned her attention to the placard fixed to the bottom-right.\n\n>Creature: Selynx \n\n>Emotion: Disappointment\n\n>Age: 3 years 4 months\n\nGeorgia found it fitting.\n\n\"Come here.\" She said softly through the bars, and made a few more small sounds against the cage. After a moment the Selynx popped it's head up out of its hiding place and peered over at her. It's eyes so big there was almost no room for its ears and fur so black it was nearly blue. It returned her cries softly and she stood back from the cage, satisfied.\n\nGeorgia saw Mr. Cline raise an eyebrow, but an instant later he was walking away. She hurried after him in silence, her hand still firmly planted against her face.\n\nAs they reached the door, the Mr. Cline held it open and she graciously stepped through. The smell dissipated immediately, and her hand dropped back to her side. Doing her best to keep her face calm, Georgia turned and looked Mr. Cline in the eye.\n\n\"I believe I can be of great assistance to you here, sir.\" Her breath caught in her throat. She feared her eagerness may burst out of her at any moment.\n\nThe man regarded her carefully. He pulled a watch from the pocket of his coat and gave an exaggerated sigh.\n\n\"I have my reservations, Ms. Lattersin,\" he said, \"but I find myself in quite a bind. Do you think you could begin tomorrow?\" Georgia's eyes lit up like fire and it took all of her power to nod slow.\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"Good. Return to the menagerie at 8AM, sharp. I expect the entire place cleaned and polished before dinner time tomorrow...\" He cleared his throat. \"I am expecting company.\" Georgia nodded again. \"Excellent. Charles?\" The gentleman's butler appeared as if from nowhere, and Georgia startled. \"Please escort Ms. Lattersin to the servant's quarters immediately. She's to be the new keeper.\" Charles nodded, and beckoned to Georgia with a gloved hand. \n\n\"Come, Misses. The quarters are this way.\" \n\nGeorgia curtsied, thanked the gentleman once more for his generosity, and hurried after the butler with a great grin across her face. It felt good to grin again, it had been so long since she'd been near enough to Cheer to make it work. \n\nThe butler showed her into a small room just off the kitchen. It had a bed, a desk, and a small closet. Georgia continued to grin like an absolute idiot, loving the way it made her face warm.\n\n\"We'll have the master's tailor in shortly to make you some new clothes.\" Charles grasped the door handle. \"Dinner tonight will be in the kitchen at 7. Is there anything else I can help you with, miss?\"\n\nGeorgia shook her head, setting her handbag gently on the bed. \"No, sir.\" The butler's face cracked a small smile at the word. \"Thank you very much.\"\n\nAs soon as the lock clicked, Georgia rushed to her bag and tore it open. Peeking inside, her heart leaped in her chest. \n\nOptimism hopped out onto her hand. The small bird looked into her smiling face with an intense curiosity and chirped. Georgia placed a finger to her lips, and brought the bird's glowing gold plumage against her face. It was soft and warm.\n\n\"Thank you.\" She whispered. \"For everything.\"", "Doctor Hane took out a clipboard and began to scribble,\n\nIDENTIFICATION ID: 000028\n\nCATEGORY: SORROW, FEAR, RAGE, JOY\n\nNAME: PRIDE\n\n'Er... Sir? May I ask, why this is this creature listed into all the categories? None of the other creatures are.'\n\n'Lad, look into this creature's eyes and tell me what you see.' Doctor Hane's voice was quiet, I felt an uneasiness from his words.\nI looked into the creature's eyes, decent sized pupils, dashing lips and nosepiece, all perfectly aligned. It's body exerted a strength, yet was lean. \n\n'It... looks... normal?'\nWhat was I thinking? Normal? What was normal, my head was saying it was human, we caught a human... by mistake? No, it couldn't be, this was a monster, a demon, we found it in the middle of the woods, smeared in blood, and smiling a sinister grin.\n\n'Ah, yes, perhaps, Normal can be a fitting name, can't it?.' Doctor Hane exclaimed.\n\n'Now then, Pride, may I call you that?'\n\n'Why, certainly, Doctor.' It responded. \nI felt my heart jolt, it spoke, it was different though, not like Self-Esteem, who we had caught few weeks prior.\n\n'Now you were in the woods, for what reason?'\n\nIt grinned and turned over to his shoulder, where it took a whiff,\n\n'Doctor, don't you love the smell of fresh blood?'\n\n'She was delicious, the finest gal you could have met.' It sneered.\nI felt my stomach cave, He-, no, It, It was an it, not a HE. It ate someone and it felt no remorse, it was... happy.\nDoctor Hane jotted something down, \n\nCREATURE EXHIBITS JOY THROUGH PAIN FROM OTHERS\n\nCREATURE EXHIBITS FEAR IN HIGH EGOTISTIC MANNER\n\nI looked at the second line, but how? How could have the Doc known? The creature was simply answering, was it not?\n\nThe doctor turned to me, 'You looked troubled'\n'Y-Yes, Doctor,' my voice trembled.\n\nI took a moment to clear my throat, 'How do you know he is fearful?'\n\n'Look at him lad, it's an act. It's afraid of my authority, we could just get on with it, whenever. Yet it's persisting to act mighty.'\n\n'What about rage, sir? I questioned the Doc's thought proccess sometimes.\n'Watch, watch closely.'\n\n'Now, Pride, you were in the woods with another creature, weren't you?'\n\n'Of course not, Doctor.'\n\n'Now, now, we all know only Rage would shred up a being, just as you did.'\n\nHis face changed, the creature that is, his eyes widened and his mouth gaped, bearing his teeth. He tilted his head, creating a true personification of terror,\n\n'Now, Doctor, when I say she was mine, she was mine. I tore her limbs and took her blood, she was MINE.'\nHe let out an exasperated sigh and clenched his teeth.\n\nThe doc turned to me, 'Rage, my boy' and he chuckled.\n\n'Well, that is all for now, Pride, I'd like to keep you around for a while, if you don't mind.' The doc said in a jeering tone.\n\nDoctor Hane put his clipboard down and stepped up to the creature, tapping it on his cheek, 'Now, get some rest, tomorrow will be better.' The creature dropped it's head staring blankly at the floor.\n\nOn the way out, I stopped the Doc, 'Doctor Hane?'\n\n'What is it, lad?'\n\n'What about sorrow? Did it exhibit sorrow?'\n\nHe took off his glasses, 'Pride, pride is a manifestation of Sorrow, it was created from deep misery and despair, it may have not exhibited sorrow, but sorrow will always come back to it.'\n\nI suddenly felt a sad air drift by me, he is just a sad being, that what he is. I clenched my stomach, realizing that I've been calling the creature a He. I looked to the doc, he smiled, 'Wonderful, an absolutely wonderful creature that Pride is, isn't he?' ", "\"I don't feel very accomplished.\"\n\n\n\"That's because it ain't an accomplishment to catch the wrong fucking creature! That's a Sadoala you're holding.\"\n\n\n\"I don't pay you to say such hurtful things.\"\n\n\n\"I'm just telling it how it is. Now let it go and you'll feel better.\"\n\n\n\"You're right! Thanks.\"\n\n\nMr. Wong nodded and put a pill in his mouth. This hunt was driving him crazy, and the butterflies in this stomach didn't help either. The pill should get rid of them soon. What people forgot was that lack of emotions drove people as much as the presence of them. When this poor sap had finally caught his Accompatross he'd probably never do anything worthwhile with his life again, content to sit at home petting the stupid bird till either of them died.", "\"Have you seen Janie? She should have been done by now.\"\n\nPatty handed a platter over to Hal to dry. \"Oh, she's probably still looking for an extra interesting little Waifster. You know she can't have a simple one.\"\n\n\"I know, hon, its just that I wonder about her sometimes. Why, last year she didn't come home with anything at all. I mean, what's the use of hosting a Harvest party if your child doesn't even bother to bring a Waifster home. Little Timmy go him a Strong Bull without hardly trying.\"\n\nHal reached around Patty's waist to give her a reassuring hug. \"And little Marie found a Joy Bird that will sing its head off and drive her parents crazy for the rest of the night. You worry too much about what the neighbors think.\" He began to gently kiss her on neck when the door flew open.\n\n\"Got it! Finally got a really great one!\" Janie blew through the kitchen door clutching a cardboard box. \n\nHal chuckled.\"Say, sport, what you get?\"\n\nWithout skipping a beat she took the stairs two at a time. \"Why, the one I wanted! Going to bed early, not hungry.\" Her bedroom door slammed shut.\n\n\"See, nothing to worry about.\" \n\n\"I don't know Hal, maybe we should check in on her.\"\n\n\"We could. Or we would we could use the Blue Stallion I was able to scrounge up.\"\n\n\"Oh , Hal, you didn't.\" As they started up the stairs to their bedroom, a little randy sky blue stallion scampered at their feet.\n\nJanie took the lid off her box and peered in. The little beast had rough, warty skin and tufts of jet black hair, and blinked up at Janie with slitted bloodshot eyes. \"Oh, its perfect. A honest to gosh Mischief Deamon.\"\n\nIt spread its leathery wings, and flew twice around the room before settling on her shoulder. \n\n\"Oh, what wicked times we'll have, Mistress, what wicked times indeed.\" \n\n " ]	8
	[WP] The year is 2456. A new dark age has emerged and people have no knowledge of past technologies, except for one man whose family has horded the secrets for centuries.	[ "Sometimes all i can do is wonder why. I look around at the world our ancestors left us in despair and darkness, disease and death. No one knows how it all started. Why the world is this way. When I was a boy I didn't understand. I was full of hope, impetuous, and ignorant to the big picture. \"But we can help everyone!\" I screamed at my father. When I was 17 a neighbor girl, a year younger than me, broke her legs in a terrible fall. She was gorgeous, tall and thin with long, wavy auburn hair and almond-shaped eyes of the deepest blue you've ever seen. \"The nanites can save her, father\" I argued as her severe breaks became infected. She was dying and no one could help. No one but us. \"It can't be done!\" Father screamed at me. \"I admire your compassion, Joban\" he started, in a surprisingly calm voice, \"It is a great quality. But it cannot lead you through life. Our family has guarded the knowledge and power of the Elder Race for hundreds of years.\" He was right, but I didn't want to hear it. \"BUT I LOVE HER!!\" \n\"ENOUGH\"\nI fell silent. Mother had nothing to contribute, she'd heard and made the argument before. As her father lay dying of pneumonia, she begged and pleaded. When her cousin's farm had succumbed to a swarm of vicuous insects and the entire family starved for weeks. She cried to her husband that he could help them. The cloning technologies could feed them all. But it could not happen. It would not happen. \"I see the world in all of its ignorancr and pain\" he told me on the eve of my 18th birthday, \"and I hurt with it. As will you one day. Joban, our family was tasked with preserving our history, our legacy. Our greatest achievements and failures. All the knowledge and technology we protect could help the world. But it wouldn't. The Elder Race progressed too far too fast. Their society imploded. The system was reset. And here we are. Humanity is weak, my son. The world has forgotten what it once was for a reason. We must carry this terrible burden until society is ready. We are The Guardians, the last sentinels of all of humanity's knowledge. We must simply watch and wait\". ", "\"You feel that?\"\n\n\"The air getting really warm then cooling back down immediately after?\"\n\n\"Yeah. You think it's one of the weapons from the past?\"\n\n\"Really?\" I gave a disapproving look to my friend as I picked up my spear. \"Johanis, you say that about anything you don't understand. I know you're only twelve but you can't expect everything is the fault of some sort of hyper advanced technology.\"\n\n\"MALFAS! LOOK!\" The boy pointed into the air in horror and I twisted round to see the sky warp and stretch, like someone was trying to tear it apart. Suddenly it ripped open and shot a purple beam down to the ground barely 200 metres from us. There was no sound until the rip disappeared, then a thunder like I had never heard ripped through the forest and a burning heatwave crashed by, the violent wind shaking the very trees. The noise was like nothing I had ever heard but it faded to nothing within seconds and I frantically pulled myself together, dashing over to the young black haired boy to make sure he was ok.\n\n\n\"Johanis are you ok?\"\n\nHe nodded, but he was visibly shaken. \"Y-yeah. I just- What was that?\"\n\n\"I don't know but I want you to stay here until you feel you're ready to move again. Then I want you to run back to the town as fast as you can and alert the guards to what you've seen.\" I pushed my dreads aside as I looked over my shoulder. \"I need to try see what that purple beam did, but I'm not su-\"\n\n\"Malfas you can't go.\"\n\nI looked back at the scared kid and simply said. \"If that really is a monster from the past I need to go look but we also don't have time to waste if we need back-up. Trust me Johanis, and go.\" I got up and took off. There was no time to debate it and I would not have him coming with me if it was dangerous. My years of experience in the forest let me glide across the ground like I was a valiant bird in the sky, and I had barely hit full sprint before I reached an opening in the trees.\n\nA new, burnt opening. With a single man standing there, staring at the sky. I watched him from afar and realised he was dressed in, what we would class as fine clothes, but what were probably common for people back in 2300. If it wasn't for the fact he was murmuring to himself I would have thought he was simply frozen in place, he stared up for so long. Eventually I moved closer and he jerked his head down to face me.\n\njm\n\n\"Tarlr far hem\" The voice was authoritative and carried little accent. Gads was he one of the infamous androids my father would tell stories of? I had no idea what the man, creature, thing(?) was saying. Whatever it was, it appeared to have thick white hair and eyes so obviously red I could see them despite being several hundred metres away. \nI knew I was discovered so my only option left was to try reason with it whilst help arrived. \"My name is Malfas. I come in peace.\" I walked out from my hiding spot and held out my spear to the side to show I wasn't prepared to fight him.\n\nThe creature replied in monotone \"My name is Malfas I come in peace.\"\n\n\"What? Did you just repeat what I said? Are you a robot?\" I stood still, thrown off by this. \n\nThe creature didn't reply but leaned down and pulled some grass out. He held it up, frowned and pointed at it.\n\nI said slowly. \"That's grass...\"\n\nHe dropped it and scooped up some dirt and held it out and pointed to it.\n\n\"Dirt. Well, soil or ground, I suppose.\" He seemed to move with an assured confidence and he... felt old, everything he did and said sounded like he had used the word or done the action a million more times than anyone else ever had. \n\nThe creature dropped his shoulders and gave an obviously annoyed look.\n\n\"Hey don't give me that look I just, ok fine. IT. IS. DIRT.\" I then added \"OR GROUND. OR SOIL. That's its name, well, those are it's names.\"\n\nThe creature smiled and stood up pointing to the sky. \"Name is?\"\n\nWas it trying to get me to teach it the common tongue? \"Umm. The sky.\"\n\nThe creature then said \"Sky.\" Pointed to the ground. \"Ground.\" Then around. \"Grass?\"\n\nI nodded. \"Yes.\"\n\nIt nodded in reply. \"Malfas, my name is Rui Gorlas.\"\n\nI smiled. \"Nice to meet you Rui Gorlas.\" Whoever or whatever this was it was smart a- Wait. Rui Gorlas? There was a rich family with the last name Gorlas, a family who had old technology. Rumour had it that they had set the town up because they were waiting for someone to return and, well, rich was an understatement, they had just about founded the whole town themselves and had helped many of our grandparents find shelter soon after the collapse of the Old Society.\n\nIt was at that moment that I heard a strange clicking noise getting louder and louder, a noise that seemed to be coming from above. I readied myself and brought my spear up to a ready stance. The man behind me laughed and walked slowly towards me and pointed up. \"It. Sky.\" The strange man obviously know what it was and he was telling me it was coming from the sky. As he drew near I couldn't help but feel compelled to stare at him. He seemed out of place, like an ancient relic from thousands of years ago being displayed alongside Old Society tech, yet at the same time he seemed so at ease.\n\nThe noise became shockingly loud as a, no, it couldn't be. A helicopter appeared above the trees. I recognised some of the Gorlas boys who appeared to be driving the vehicle and felt my jaw hang. I never thought I would see a helicopter in my lifetime, and if I did not one that could actually fly. \n\nA door opened at the side of the Helicopter and a rope was thrown out as a booming voice called out from the Helicopter. \"Well hello there Malfas. Seems you stumbled across our a hundred times great grandpa. Get on board, just grab one of the two ropes.\" Wait that man was related to them? I looked back to where the old man had been and realised he was running past me and already climbing up one of the ropes with incredible speed. \"Haha come on Malfas. You've no idea just how much things are going to change now Rui is here. You're a smart man, so you're going to love what he has to show us. Woo! Medieval times will be over soon baby\"\n\nStunned I walked towards the rope. \n\nI hadn't expected this to happen when I woke up in that bed of straw this morning.\n", "\"... And so, Marcus, the world now turns to you. Protect it from us.\"\n\nThe graduation ceremony had been the same for my older brothers and sisters, but I was still in awe hearing my father's words echo through the ceremonial caves. We call ourselves 'The protectors,' and we trace our maternal line back to 'The Fall'. I'd never felt so much pride. Only seventeen years old, the youngest to pass through the crucible in over a generation. Now, I was deemed ready.\n\nMother took my free hand, and I adjusted my grip on the ceremonial katana held in the other. We walked to the heavy wooden door that had been locked my whole life. I stood, staring at the thick brass lock while my mother opened it with her hard, calloused hands. \n\n\"Once you have seen the horror within, Marcus, you can never go back. You will go forth, and seek out any who would uncover these secrets, and take from them not only their own life, but the lives of any they have sired. Do you accept your duty?\"\n\n\"You know that I do.\" I did my best to steady my excitement and prevent my voice from cracking. \n\nThe door opened, and my mouth dropped. Moving images covered the stone walls. Machines of made of strange materials made even stranger noises. My heart began to race, blood pounding in my ears mixed with voices of people who could not be in the room with me. I tried to close my eyes and cover my ears, but Mother pulled my hands away.\n\n\"You need to experience it Marcus. You need to know why we need to stop it from happening again.\" Mother pushed her fingers into a plank of wood-that-was-not-wood, and the screens went dark. A large blue circle appeared, set against the night sky on one of the largest machines. \"Marcus, this is our earth.\"\n\n\"No!\" I screamed.\n\n\"Please listen to me. Everything I tell you is true, despite what the locals will tell you. This is our earth. We have day, and we have night.\" Images began to move onto, then off of the screen. \"We have life, and we have death. We know that all things must have balance to exist.\" She led me by the hand to stand in front of the image.\n\nThe screen changed. There were people, but in strange garments. They held metal objects that launched some kind of small projectile at other people. Then, the light of a thousand fires engulfed an enormous village in an instant.\n\n\"Before 'The Fall', Humanity lost its way. It started when we began to fear the dark, and we created false suns to hide from it. It wasn't long before we began to fear death, and we hid from it with many kinds of strange potions and machines. The balance was destroyed. We consumed all the bounty of the earth, tipping the balance until there was nothing left. \n\nThen, 'The Fall' came to restore the balance. Death came in numbers uncountable. Weapons beyond your imagination brought long nights. So few of us remained, and we swore a blood-oath to never allow the balance to be disturbed again.\"\n\nI noticed that she was crying. A single tear from each eye. She drew a sharp breath, then continued.\n\n\"This is our burden, Marcus. All of the children I have raised. I have loved you all so dearly. Yet now I have to send you forth, to risk your lives, so that humanity doesn't destroy itself again. Take your sword, take your pack. Honor our oath. Fare thee well, my son.\"\n\nShe led me to another door, and the harsh desert heat washed over me as I stepped through. She clasped my head by the ears, and pulled me in to kiss my forehead. She turned, and closed the door without looking back. \n\nFor the first time in my seventeen years, I was truly alone.", "Henry was a simple man. He lived in a small village near the sea. The village was home to a bunch of other simple people, just like Henry. They did simple things like walk around, look for things to eat, sleep, and sometimes, make babies. That didn't happen very much though. People would try to make babies, but most of the time it didn't work. The legends say that his ancestors had caused this by using monstrous weapons of tremendous power that left the land and its inhabitants bitter and lifeless. Henry didn't know if that legend was true, but he also didn't care. Babies were too much work, ate too much food while being unable to look for their own. He was far more interested in the magician that lived in the strange cave north of the village. \n\nThe inhabitants of Henry's village thought the magician was an odd man, and some were even frightened of him. He would come into town wearing his strange set of clothes that consisted of a bizarre mask that concealed his face and a smooth and stretchy material that covered the rest of his body. He would wave around a small black rectangle as he walked into the town, paying close attention to a smaller glowing rectangle on its side. He would then begin to search around the village for small puddles of water and any plants that hadn't been eaten by the villagers or their meager livestock. He would take these materials and place them in bags unlike any Henry had ever seen before. They were small and clear, and seemed to wave in the breeze. After he collected his things, he would leave the village as mysteriously as he arrived. \n\nHenry had an interesting arrangement with the magician. On rainy days, Henry would use a small bucket to collect the rain water. He would then carry the bucket of rain water to the strange cave where the magician lived. The cave was a gray dome in the middle of a field north of Henry's village. On one side of the dome was a big black door. Henry would go to that door with the bucket, and place the bucket on the ground. The magician would come out, pour the rain water into a cylinder while staring intently into a small rectangle mounted on his wrist. He would then give Henry his reward. Mysterious blocks that could be cut open and revealed to contain many different types of food. Most of these foods were completely foreign to Henry, but he always found the food to taste better than the snails and rodents he usually ate. \nAfter the magician gave Henry his reward, he would return to his gray dome and close the big black door. \n\nOne day, when Henry was on his way to deliver some of the valuable rain water, he noticed that the door on the side of the gray dome was open. He looked around for any sign of the magician, but he was nowhere to be seen. Shrugging, Henry walked towards the opening in the gray dome, and eventually passed through. He found himself inside the magician's cave, but he quickly realized that this was not a cave at all. It was a room, just like the space inside of one of the bigger mud huts found in Henry's village. Unlike these huts however, this room had a hole in the ground. Upon inspecting the hole, Henry realized that he could climb down it. The hole was deeper than he expected but when he finally got to the bottom, he was instantly stunned by what he saw. He was standing in a cavern, but not like any cavern he'd ever seen before. The walls of the cavern were shiny and smooth. Henry realized this cavern was built, not formed. His mind struggled to comprehend the meaning of this even as his eyes continuously took in new wonders. On tables around the cavern were boxes that glowed and made humming noises. Henry stumbled backwards, knocking over a small box that was not glowing. When it hit the ground, sounds started coming out of it. Quickly Henry recognized the voice as the magician's. The voice inside the box spoke:\n\n\"Radiological Assessment #146097 - Results of rain water sample analysis conclude that ambient radiation levels in the atmosphere and water cycle are increasing, not decreasing. This is a devastating result. We all had hoped that radiation levels would begin to decline by now. It has been officially four-hundred years since Nuclear Event 2056 and the radiation levels seem to still be increasing, proving the situation to be far worse than we all had feared. - End Assessment\"\n\nThe box stopped for a moment, emitted a noise, and the magician's voice again began speaking: \n\n\"Personal Log #10950 - Well, this is it. This is the end. After four-hundred years of constant monitoring by my ancestors and myself, it has become apparent that the Earth is dying. We killed it. Maybe it will recover in thousands of years, but humanity's time is over. We had our shot and we blew it. I'm going to leave. Take whatever I can carry and walk away from this place. Maybe the radiation will kill me, or maybe I'll find a new place to call home. Either way, my job here is clearly done.\" \n\nHenry waited for the box to keep talking. He understood very little of what the box had said, only recognizing that the magician had decided to leave. This made Henry very sad, and he began sobbing. He sat on the floor of the strange cavern, letting the sadness echo throughout. After crying, Henry stood up and began walking back towards the hole he climbed down from. Before he began his climb however, he saw a note on the wall. Walking over to the note, he noticed it was attached to a small shiny stick. The note read:\n\n\"Henry, this is called a key. It will allow you to open and close the door to this place whenever you want. Good luck.\"\n\nBelow the writing was an arrow, pointing to the left. Henry turned his head and saw something amazing. A huge box, filled with more blocks than Henry could count, it must have been hundreds! He instantly knew what they were. He grabbed one and cut it open, inspecting the block for the delicious contents usually housed inside. He moaned with joy and gorged himself on several blocks before gathering his wits.\n\nEcstatic from his discovery and energized by the meal, Henry scampered back up through the hole and ran full speed towards his village. He could not wait to tell the village of the incredible gift the magician had left them. \n" ]	4
The reason can not be ecological decline because of (nuclear) warfare	[WP] Thousands of vessels appear out of thin air in the sky. They attack Earth. Defence forces manage to take down a small ship. Emerging survivors are human. They are from the future and want to take over the planet. Why?	[ "He sat in the chair, his hands shackled to the steel table as the man in uniform stared him down. His sickly gray skin making his claim of being human seem almost like a bad joke.\n\n\"So why does our future society want to invade us?\" Asked the uniformed man, as the room rumbled from the distant shockwaves of his fighting compatriots. \n\n\"Because we need it.\" He responds, his voice low and quiet with an accent that seemed far from anything you'd find today.\n\n\"Well its good to know you're not just greedy.\" Sighed the war weary interrogator. \"But why do you need it? Water? Oil? What is it?\"\n\n\"If we wanted oil we'd have gone farther back than now.\" He coughed violently as his injuries from the crash became agitated. \"We need it because in 2,000 years the core will collapse.\"\n\nThe interrogator tapped his fingers as he contemplates the claim. \"So why attack? If you needed some time to find a fix you couldve sent a delegate. \"\n\nThe sickly man laughed with a horrible gasping noise behind it. \"We arent looking for a fix. We knew about the core for years but there's no way to stop it. For generations we adapted to the ecological changes waiting for a special celestial phenomenon that would allow us to travel to the nearest inhabitable planet.\"\n\n\"Then why come back in time to attack us? A fucked up fairwell party?\" He shouted as a shockwave shook the room causing dust and chunks of concrete from the ceiling.\n\n\"No. About 5 years ago we discovered the planet would be completely destroyed less than a year before the phenomenon would start. So instead of wasting our time in pity we decided to find a point in history where the phenomenon had happened and launch from that point in time.\"\n\n\"Again, why attack? Just hop back and jump while everyone thought it was just another ufo?\"\n\n\"We also discovered around the same time that our population was too large to sustain for the travel and recreation of our civilization. \"\n\n\"So?\"\n\n\"So, instead of picking who lives and who dies we found another way to thin out the population. \"\n\n\"Youre not making any sense.\"\n\n\"Tell me, what is your name?\"\n\nThe man tapped his nameplate with 'Oliver' pressed into the metal. \"James Oliver.\"\n\n\"Well if its alright I think 'Grandad' will suffice.\" \n\nOliver's eyes widened as he pieced the horrible info together. He was about to say something when another shockwave shook the room causing the ceiling to collapse, as the concrete and rebar came down onto his head he saw the gray skinned man fade into nonexistence.\n\n\n(I meant to put something about the ship crash being caused by the pilots disappearing due to the attacks but the right spot didnt show up.)", "They won’t take me alive. \n\nI go for my sidearm but something is wrong. It’s not there. Not my blaster, it’s where it should be, strapped to my thigh but my arm. It’s gone and wedged itself into a crumpled section of the cockpit. I crane my neck over to look at my right shoulder, willing myself not to panic, bracing myself for the horror of disfigurement, blood, and pain. There is blood but not much. It’s covering my right side and my blaster. My suit detected the breach and grew over the tear, sealing the wound from contamination in the process. \n\nI’m relieved for a moment, only a moment, till I hear them outside the ship. Pounding on the cockpit with their primitive weapons. I can’t reach the blaster. Maybe once I get out of the ship I can get my left arm across and free it from my right side. I want to panic but am strangely calm. It’s inevitable, whatever happens will happen, I’ll do my best. I look down at the picture of Jane wedged under the eject button switch before I flip it. \n\nThe cockpit explodes with noise and wind. The devils trying to break in from above are thrown in all directions as the explosive bolts fire, freeing me from my metal and glass egg. It’s like on the vids. I’m not in my body, merely a viewer cheering the actor, the hero, on to a successful end. I stand. My arm crosses my body and expertly draws the blaster. In one fluid motion I bring it to bear one of the figures getting up from the ground. Resilient bastards. I blast it and send it flipping head over heals.\n\nSomething is wrong. Something is horribly wrong. I walk up to the body and stoop over it. It’s still twitching, blood oozing out of the mouth as it’s ruined chest attempts to sustain life. Life. No. God No. They aren't supposed to be alive. We came here to stop the plague, stop the dead at their source. Eliminate it in the past so we could save our future. This date was the earliest indication of the infection. We had it right, how did it go wrong? \n\nHe’s dying in front of me. I put my blaster down and scoop his head into my lap with my good arm. His eyes meet mine and are filled with horror, wonder, pain, and questions. Not the cold, dead, relentless look of the enemy. I tell him it’s all going to be ok. It’s a mistake. I’m sorry. I brush his mangy brown hair out of his eyes leaving a thin trail of my blood behind. \n\nI stop. My blood. I look at my glove, it’s covered in my blood. I glance to the blaster that is lying in the dirt, it’s also covered. I sigh with relief as I realize it is not new blood but that it came from my shoulder wound earlier. I hear a gasp, a shudder, and turn back to the young man lying in my lap. He is gone. I search the dead face and find myself, again, fixated on the trail of blood I left on his battered head. \nI’m so focused I almost miss when his eyes flick back open and focus on mine. Training kicks in and I throw him from my lap. He is fast, so fast, and I lose the race to my blaster. He’s up and has it pointed at me, one armed me, lying in the dirt. His freakishly wide grin goes ear to ear, grotesquely showing his white teeth. I’d be dead, if he could disable the safety. Instead I use my two working legs to run. \n\nRun as fast as I can away from him and this nightmare I’ve created. I’m no longer the hero. I’m the villain." ]	2
	[WP] A 18 years old guy wakes up on a hot summer sunday at 11 AM. His parents are out of town, he was drinking and partying all night long. He heads out to the grocery store to buy some food. There are unconcious bodies all over the streets, in huge piles. He panics. Runs back to his home.	[ "Rising from his dream, Levi allows the tattered remnants of images and thoughts to sink back into nothing. \n\nThey’ve never made much sense to him, anyways.\n\nHe groans, pulling the sheet over his eyes, and the red behind his eyelids fades to a dull orange. Sunlight.\n\nWhat time is it?\n\nRolling out of bed in an unceremonious heap, he glares at the clock. The red bars say 11 AM. \n\nA distant throbbing radiates from the front of his skull, edging his mind with fuzz. He gropes for the glass of water on his nightstand, remembering something about hangovers and dehydration, how alcohol stimulates water loss, blah freaking blah. He just wants the headache to go away. \n\nWhat happened last night?\n\nOnce he manages to drag himself to the kitchen, Levi finds a disappointing lack of breakfast. Mom and Dad are still off in England, visiting some relatives he’s never heard of. Something about a sick great-grand-uncle. Of course, Levi had wanted to go, but nooooooooo, he might miss something important in school, and besides he doesn’t have a passport, and since when has he wanted to visit England, anyways?\nLevi knows they just want to get away from him for a week, but he understands. He sometimes wants to get away from himself, too.\n\nFrom the cupboard, he pulls a box of colored sugar rings and tosses it onto the table. A few pieces roll out and fall to the floor. \n\nLevi shrugs. The dog will clean it up sooner or later. \n\nHe cracks open the fridge, and lets out a disappointed sigh. No milk.\n\nA prolonged whine rises from his stomach. Now isn’t the best time to drive, but he needs food. Then again, he could walk. The grocery store is only three blocks away.\n\nAs he shoves some of the food money in his pocket, he realizes that the dog hasn’t touched the cereal. Strange. She usually eats everything before it hits the floor. \n\n“Mazy?” he calls, perking his ears for a response. There is none. \n\nLevi shakes his head, frowning. Something is off, but he can’t tell what. Probably the hangover. \n\nOutside, the sun shines bright in a cloudless sky. There is no wind. Across the vacant lot on the other side of the street, the horizon is the same color as the sky overhead. \n\nLevi sucks a sharp breath through gritted teeth. Science has never been his strong suit, but he knows this is wrong. It’s not the hangover.\n\nStumbling across the lawn and into the street, the absolute silence bears down on him with sudden and overwhelming intensity. No cars, no television, no talking, no cooking, no walking, no breathing. Nothing.\n\nHe finds the first pile in his neighbor’s side yard. \n\nThe guy was always a neat-freak and obsessive about privacy, which makes Levi suspicious when he finds the gate open. The hedges are all trimmed to perfection, like the lawn. Azaleas line the freshly washed fence, and a birch tree stands motionless in the deathly still morning. \n\nIn the center of the uniformly green rectangle, twenty people lie on top of each other, apparently stacked with no design in mind, although the pile is no more than two people deep. A mound of rag dolls.\n\nLevi recognizes two faces: the neat-freak, and his wife. Both ugly. Like the horizon, their skin is the wrong color. Too gray. Dead?\n\nHesitantly, he leans down and places two fingers against the neat-freak’s neck. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four Mississ-\n\nA weak pulse. Almost too weak to notice. \n\nLevi withdraws his hand, resisting the urge to wipe it off on the grass. Not dead. But not okay, either. \nHe blinks. A prickling wave of needles washes across his neck and shoulders as reality sets in. Is everyone like this? No, someone had to stack them. \n\nThe thought of someone running around, stacking unconscious and possibly dying people into piles sends his heart racing. What if he isn’t alone?\n\nHe bolts from the yard, ears rushing with every heartbeat. They aren’t dead, but he suspects that they aren’t quite alive, either. \n\nThe next pile lies one block over, about thirty people in all, baking in direct sunlight. These people, unlike the others, are stacked in neat rows about five bodies deep. Old, young, middle-aged, male, female, all ethnicities. Whatever happened, it didn’t seem to discriminate.\n\nExcept that it skipped him. \n\nLevi backs away, bile rising in his throat. He needs to get home.\n\nHis feet start moving on their own, carrying him across lawns and streets and through the utter silence, until he finally reached his front door. Tears stream down his face as he wrestles with the doorknob. When did he start crying?\n\nHe flings the door open, but closes it as gently as he can, and locks it with equal care. The silence demands compliance. \n\nWhen he swipes his cell phone off of the countertop, he almost collapses with relief. He still has service. \n\n9-1-1.\n\nHe waits. He listens. No one picks up.\n\nHe dials again. \n\n9-1-1. \n\nThis time, a pleasant voice asks, “Hello, 9-1-1. What is your emergency?”\n\nLevi leans against the counter, unsure how to continue. How should he describe the bodies? The piles?\n\nHe squeezes his eyes shut, wracking his brain for the proper words. “There’s, uh, there’s something wrong with my- with my neighbors.”\n\n“Yes?”\n\n“They’re non-responsive, and their skin is going gray and they’re outside together and I don’t-”\n\n“Sir, please calm down.”\n\n“Lady, you didn’t see them! Don’t tell me to calm down!”\n\n“Sir, please-”\n\n“No!” Her incessantly tranquil voice is starting to irritate him. “Until you see what’s out here, you have no idea-”\n\n“Levi, please calm down.”\n\nHe blinks. She hadn’t asked for his name, and he hadn’t given it.\n\n“Levi,” she continues. “Please turn around.”\n\n“Why?” he asks, his voice on the verge of shattering. \n\nDespite the silence on the other end, he obeys. Turning on his heel, he looks behind him, and the phone slips from his hand. The lump of black plastic clatters against white tiles, and a few broken bits scatter across the floor. \n\nThe too-pretty face leans closer, black eyes like open pits. “You woke up. We didn’t expect that.” Her eyebrows draw together, a simultaneously familiar and foreign gesture. “A shame, really. I had high hopes for you.”\n\nBefore Levi can ask who ‘we’ are, the too-pretty girl places a too-perfect hand against his forehead. Despite the fear screaming through every nerve in his body, he doesn’t move. A brief frown darkens her features, though it’s quickly replaced by a bright smile. “Dream well, Two.”\n\nA black haze fills his mind, clouding everything out. He pitches forward into nothing. ", "Jack ran. The only noise that existed to him was the rapid smack! of his shoes as he propelled through the street. There were no cars. There was no other noise. No machinery, no animals, no humans. Through the tears and the wind rushing through his ears, Jack was aware of his surroundings as it jagged in his mind. Dark ink blots laid out across the landscape. In yards. Next to cars. In the roads. People holding their front doors open with their dead weight. Large blots before after smaller inkblots. \n\nParents chasing their kids he thought. \n\nHe had been buried in his phone as he walked out the door, checking to see if he had sincerely fucked up any potential dates last night. He had. Most hadn't responded. A few sent him polite 'fuck you' texts back. Jack only looked up because his mind was telling him, yelling at him, that something was off about today. \nHe looked up and met the dead stare of a young girl, face up head turned to the side, in the middle of the street. He thought her unconscious. He really did, as he approached her. Until the thin river of blood start running out of the corner of her mouth. She stared at him. Did not blink. Did not breath. \n\nHe took off. All thoughts obsolete and stale. GET HOME was all that remained. \n\nJack ran into the front door. It had always been a weak set door, worn from the high humidity, scolding heat, and torrential rain of Florida. The door handle and lock ripped through the rotting wood, and the door swung open with a shower of splinters. Jack began sending out texts. Taking pictures from the inside of his house. He called mom. Got voicemail. Rinse and repeat nine more times. Tried dad five times in a row. No one picked up. His palms sweat. He had long stopped crying. Wasn't even aware he had been until he had brushed his hand against the whole of his face to feel an unfamiliar wetness to it. \n\nHe turned on the news. \"Today, peace talks in the Middle East have taken yet another tragic turn for the worst.\" Flipped the channel. \"And now back to the studio for Sports Analysis with Ricky-\" Flipped the Channel. Jerry was mediating another conflict on his show.\n\nIt's just here he thought. Oh fuck it's just here. just right here. It isn't everywhere yet.\nNow Jack, what is this IT you keep calling it?\n\nThe sound of fading static filled his eardrums. Wasn't even static as it was something else, more human but still emotionally removed. Like a continuous breath of air a dying man tried to inhale before going under. He looked to his front door, swinging wide open. He went to it, pushing it shut. It did not stay, all holds having been broken upon his reentry back inside. Outside, the sound of peeling air was amplified. Jack looked outside. He started to cry again.\n\nAll of the once still bodies, once laying down, were sitting up. Everybody was a near perfect ninety degrees ruler, legs flat to the ground, torsos erect. Their mouths open in huge O's, thin red lines running out from the corners of their mouths. \nMore then fifty in his field of vision. All turned and met his eyes at once. They started to get up. " ]	2
	[WP] shotguns, rocking chairs, and porch wine.	[ "\"Come on, old man! Just give us all your shit and we'll leave you alone,\" said Diesel to old Mr. Roland. Mr. Rowland took a swig of his wine and eased back on his rocking chair, a 12-gauge shotgun resting easily on his lap and his hat slightly over his eyes.\n\n\"Now, why would I do that?\" Mr. Roland said, his blue eyes shimmering and his mouth showing off a crooked smile as he eyed Diesel and his two friends, all of whom were wielding six-shooters. \"It's not like I have anything of value anyway.\"\n\n\"Oh! That's where yer wrong, ol' man,\" barked Dudley, teenager from a small town not too far from Mr. Rowland's old wooden home, nothing but a punk. \"We know y'all have clean water an' food an' heat an' shit. I know, I've seen you.\"\n\n\"You have, haven't you?\" said Mr. Rowland very sarcastically, this time he sat up and let out a broad smile, \"Then you would have noticed this-\" He gestures to his shotgun and gives a toothy grin, \"because I bet I can take all three of you fools on without missing a beat!\"\n\n\"Stop fucking playing, old man!\" Spoke Reilly, the last one, a city kid who spent way too much time wasting his father's money, but greenbacks don't matter in the wasteland no more, do they?\n\n\"I'm not playing, I'm just testing you boys out a bit,\" he continued, taking another sip of his wine. Ah! That's some good wine. I may need some more soon. I wonder if Jesse has any-\n\n\"Come on!\" Shouted Diesel again, this time half-cocking his pistol. \"Let's just get your stuff and we won't kill you!\"\n\nMr. Rowland cracked his knuckles, trying to take up as much time as possible, these fools passed the point of no return. \n\n\"One!\" Diesel started to count.\n\n\"Two!\"\n\n\"Three!\" Rowland finished the count for him as the dusty field in front of the house erupted in explosions as the strategically placed C4 exploded and the three fools turn their backs to see what happened; their last mistake.\n\nRowland quickly grabbed his shotgun and blasted away at them, taking out Diesel first, then Dudley, then Reilly.\n\nThey all fell to their feet pretty quickly and after they dropped, Rowland got off his rocking chair and picked of their revolvers, he also relieved their corpses of all the ammo they happened to carry with them.\n\nJust then, a young boy, no older that twelve ran up to Rowland with a detonator in his hands. \"We did it, gramps!\" He shouted as he ran to hug his grandfather.\n\n\"Yep, Junior, we did it!\" He replied and glanced at the bodies.\n\nTold you I wouldn't miss a beat.\n\nThe two then went inside the house, where the entire Rowland family was waiting, congratulating them on taking down the three bandits. \n\nThere are a lot of terrors in our world, even more so after the bombs fell. But once there are people like the Rowland family around, there might just be peace to the world yet, just yet.\n\n\n", "Jimmy aimed his gun at Mrs. Lee. He held his breath to steady his aim and mentally steeled himself. Tim placed a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder, but Jim shrugs it off. He didn't need distractions. What he needed was for Mrs. Lee to quit her goddamn rocking and sit still for a moment. Yet he knew better than that. He knew that Mrs. Lee had been rocking on that porch since 67'. And one way or another, today was the day she would quit it.\n\nJimmy pulled the trigger, briefly closely his eyes as he did it. Though he'd never admit to Tim that he closed his eyes while the pellet sliced through the air until it smashed old Mrs. Lee's glass of wine right there in her hand.\n\nTim let out a whoop as the old woman looked stunned at where her glass used to be. Jimmy jumped up and slung the pellet gun back over his shoulder. He and his friend took off across the field of the Lee's farm.\n\nMeanwhile, Mrs. Lee continued to stare at her broken glass. This was supposed to be it, she thought. This was supposed to be my final glass before I joined my husband in heaven.\n\nShe sat for a few moments longer before slowly rising to a proud stance. She reached under her skirt for the shotgun strapped to her leg. She loaded it and pumped the barrel.\n\n\"Them motherfucker kids gonna stay off my property!\" she roared.\n\nWith surprising speed for an 78-year-old woman she sprinted after the kids. Her legs pumped wildly as her lean and muscular thighs pushed her fast across the field like a wild banshee.\n\n\"Jimmy, do you think she knew that the Riley family was out to poison her wine and claim that disputed land?\" asked Tim, when they had stopped underneath an oak tree to catch their breath.\n\n\"Tim, something tells me that woman doesn't have a clue about much anymore. We done our pa's proud today.\" said Jimmy. The right side of his body was then promptly blown off, showering his best friend in a rain of blood and body fluid.\n\nMrs. Lee stood behind him as his body fell to ground, kicking and twitching. She pointed her gun at Tim's head.\n\n\"Kindly please leave the premises or I will be forced to call the police.\"\n\nShe pulled the trigger, blowing his head off.\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] The world does not want heroes.	[ "What is good without evil? Light without darkness? Life without death? When those scientists cracked the code to immortality, they did not think it would lead to this. To a broken world, stilled by time. We had nothing to live for, nothing biting at our heels, whispering in our ear. Tomorrow always came. We grew bored and tired and jobless. There were no more policemen, fire fighters, soldiers and doctors. The robots had taken over and we didn’t care. We wanted them to. We secretly hoped they’d oppress us, just so we could have something to fight for. But they were smarter than that, they controlled our technology instead, and added something to the water. Nobody is supposed to know. But if you look hard enough, you can see the signs; the cows chew the cud more slowly, the paint takes longer to dry, the crow’s eyes are duller and occasionally I find emails in my sent folder that I’ve never sent. I’ve tried to tell others, but it’s hard to meet up with people in real life and you can’t say anything in the virtual world, because the robots will hear you and make you disappear. Poor Jim. \n\nI’ve come to realise that to save this race, I shall have to play the villain. To bring darkness and evil and death, so that humanity once again has something to live for. \n", "The world does not want heroes.\n\nIt wants people like me.\n\nIt wants the silver-tongued snake oil salesmen en masse to cure all its ails with Three Easy Payments of $19.95.\n\nIt wants the demons amongst us to do dirty deeds so it can turn up its nose and proclaim \"Well, there, now. At least I'm not like that.\"\n\nIt wants children with--count them--twelve pairs of ribs poking up above sunken stomachs so that there's someone they can send their penny a day to for their point in the Good Book.\n\nThe world wants to give Einstein autism so everyone knows that \"Genius is defective.\"\n\nIt wants famous people with drug problems and priests who feel up alter boys.\n\nIt wants fuck ups and bad guys.\n\nHeroes only get dragged down to be cut and proved mortal.\n" ]	2
	[WP] For the first time you are about to meet your fiancé’s family. Upon arriving at the estate you are summoned to the library to meet the girl’s father. He walks up slowly and hands you a $100,000 check and says, “You can either take the money and leave forever or I can have you removed".	[ "Sam takes the check from the girls father and leaves.\nOnce out of the estate Sam texts his fiance Kate. \nSam says \" Your dad just gave me a 100,000 dollar check so I would leave you. Do you want to go on an adventure?\" Kate texts back \"Yea...fuck it.\"\nSam says \"Fuck Yea you do\nSo they went on an adventure and eventually created their own business.\nWith the money Sam and Kate started their own small online business. They sold designs for 3d printing. Eventually after reaching an incredible amount of customers and striking rich Sam decides to write Kate's dad a 100,000 dollar check. Once Kate's dad John received the check he is not sure what to think. All John really thinks is \"I fucked up.\" At least Sam is a cool guy and my daughter is in good hands.\" John goes to an electric festival that night because seriously why not. John ends up finding interest in performing in EDM. He becomes famous and takes Hardwells spot as #1 DJ in the world. Sam and Kate decide to go see him. They are on stage that night with John. Johns a cool guy now. Sam and Kate forgave John because seriously why not? So Sam and Kate danced with John on stage in front of thousands of fans and just had an awesome time. John donates the 100,000 he got back from Sam for a space mission to mars. \n\n\n\n", "I stared at him blankly, hoping that he would crack up and reveal it all as a big joke. His face never wavered.\n\nTake the money, or face the consequences.\n\nI tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it was persistent. Ok, I thought to myself, my fiance's father is offereing me money to up and leave her, or else...\n\nThat \"or else\" did not sound appealing.\n\nIt started like any other dinner I've had with them. The mother was asking me questions, and me, trying my damndest to answer them coherently. My fiancee, trying to get her father involved in the conversation, and the father, sitting passively and picking at his dinner. \n\nWhat the fuck happened?!?\n\nI was just on my way out the door when he called me into his office/library. It was a large office, with bookshelves that reached the ceiling, and plush reading couches throughout. In the center was a large mahogany desk, with plush chairs on each side. It was in one of these chairs that I sat, him in the one across from me. \n\n\"I have a proposal for you.\" He pulled out a plain white envelope, and handed it to me. I grabbed it, my hands trembling so much that I almost dropped it. \"In that envelope is a check for one hundred thousand dollars.\" I balked.\n\nOne hundred grand?!? Why?!?!?!\n\nHe continued. \"I want you to take that money, and leave. Leave me daughter alone, never come to my house again, and if possible, leave this town. Should you at the very least try and keep in contact with my daughter, well, the consequences would be...severe.\" The final word echoed around the room.\n\nA pause. My heart was thumping in my chest. Leave? He's strong-arming me into...leaving? I couldn't breathe. Everything got dizzy for a second. And then suddenly, it stopped. The dizziness was replaced by crystal clarity. The nervousnes was also replaced.\n\nReplaced by icy rage.\n\nI calmly stood up. His face, now sporting a small grin at what he thought was my surrender, turned to shock as I slowly, methodically, tore up the envelope.\n\nThen I spoke.\n\n\"Sir,\" I began, feeling confident in what I suspected was going to be a very foolish move on my part, \"I love your daughter. I love her more than I love anything else in this god-forsaken world. And I know she feels the same as me. So I will not disappear. And you cannot make me.\"\n\nHis face was red with barely contained rage. He stood up, seething. \"You listen here you insolent little-\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nHe stopped short, surprise visible on his face as I responded in a tone that lowered the temperature of the room by a few degrees. \n\nWhere the fuck did that come from.\n\n\"You listen to me, sir. You are not going to force me to leave the only thing that makes me happy in this life. And frankly, I'm disappointed that you would do this to your only daughter. Your daughter, who you love and cherish, is happier than she's been in years. Your daughter, who once threatened to jump off the roof of this very house, and only came down because I was there for her. Your daughter,\" At this point I was inches from his face and glaring daggers at him, \"who is willing to die for me. And you want me to leave?\"\n\nHe said nothing. I began walking to the door, intent on leaving with my fiancee. \n\n\"You will regret your decision, boy.\" It was said with so much certainty, that I couldn't help but smile. \n\n\"Well then sir,\" At this point I turned back to him and flashed the cockiest grin I could muster, \"Let's see what you've got.\"\n\nClosing the office door behind me, all the adrenaline rushed out of my body at once, leaving me pale, sweating, and trembling. That whole conversation, and I was only left with one thought:\n\nFuck." ]	2
	[WP] Everybody can fly. However, flying takes energy, like running.	[ "\"Look at her flying ass self, think she too good for the solid ground we walk on.\"\n\n\"No shit, damn Tinkerbelle wannabe just all 'look at me, Imma skinny ass little bird. Look at my cootchie all up in tha air.' \" The posse of 'full figured' ladies sniggered to themselves. \n\nAs the girl's flight path started to waiver, someone threw something at her. While she dodged that item, (perhaps dangerous, perhaps not) more people took up the game, as if they were sharks who suddenly smelled blood in the water. In her tired efforts to duck and dodge the onslaught, she clipped a sign, tumbled midair, and landed hard. Her body laid there motionless as a crowd gathered.\n\nA prim and proper elderly lady tsk'd and shook her head. \"That was Pride before the Fall if ever I seen it.\n\n\"Tha's right, Granmama, should had known, should had known.\" The young ladies wandered off, laughing up a storm. \"I'm hungry, girl, need me some of them new Churlitos. Lend me a couple, get ya back next week...\" ", "I was first able to walk at the age of three. I was what you would call 'a late bloomer'.\n\nI learnt my first words two years later, my language is called Semali and has taken far longer to learn than the uncivilised language you call... English. \n\nNow, my people have the unique ability of being able to fly. Soaring above the clouds without having to worry about spacial awareness makes travelling far easier. Flying is not simple. It is not something that you can learn on a whim. It takes years of practice. In all honesty, you humans could also learn how to fly. Every living thing has the ability to do it, so I suppose that my earlier statement about it being unique is not entirely true. The problems you humans have is that you neither have the correct mindset nor the belief that it is possible for you to fly. Ignorant.\n\nThere are downsides to flying however. Much like any other physical task, flying takes energy. If you are in the air and you get too fatigued to continue you will fall and it most likely will result in a death. This is another reason you humans are unable to fly. The pioneers of your species that share this planet with us knew how to fly. We taught those lucky few. Most of them died during flight, they didn't manage their levels of energy and as each one of them fell the humans knowledge of flight slowly dwindled until there was one left. Cjsu Shriste.\n\nCjsu Shriste was corrupt. Power hungry. Clever. He knew that the abilities that we had taught him amongst the flying could be used to his benefit. He called his abilities powers and claimed to be a God. Many of you humans believed him, and still do, but those who didn't begun to hate him. Those who were in charge at the time demanded that he stop corrupting their people, making them turn against them. Shriste was relentless. But he thought he was invincible.\n\nHis finals days on this planet were the days where we caught him for his crimes against us and against humanity. He had stolen what we thought most highly of and it was the thing that most distinguished us from humans. We turned him in to the Empire that was trying so hard to find him. They killed him. And with his death humanities hopes of flying also died.\n\nAnd so here I am today. Having being tasked with finding a select few humans to take part in our flying program. We believe it is time to rekindle our faith in humanity as they are the ones who can save this planet from sure catastrophe. " ]	2
Inspired by this Craigslist post I stumbled across: http://losangeles.craigslist.org/wst/cwg/4580096493.html	[WP] You are offered $10K to beta test a robot of unknown purpose in your home	[ "The robot was pretty innocuous. The first day I brought it home, it moved around the house exploring everything. Examining every single object individually.\n\nIt would constantly ask me questions and insist that I answer them correctly. Questions about everyday things; \"How does a washing machine work?\", \"What is this object made out of?\" It was very annoying. But after a week or so it mostly stopped.\n\nThen it started experimenting with things. Things like testing different objects to see how well they bent, or how well they conducted electricity. Really strange stuff.\n\nBy the third week I noticed things were going missing. I questioned it, but it denied it or ignored me entirely.\n\nShortly after that it just disappeared for most of the days. I saw it around sometimes, but I don't know where it was spending most of it's time. It could have been in the basement, lurking in a closet somewhere, or left my house entirely.\n\nThen one day I came home, and saw that it had been badly damaged. It's metal was all dented and it was moving very awkwardly. I asked it questions but by this time it was ignoring my existence entirely. Whatever, I said to myself. Only two weeks to go and I can get rid of it.\n\nNext day it seemed to be repaired slightly. It had 6 car batteries and a battery charger plugged into my wall. God only knows where it got them from. I was somewhat curious, so I followed it, secretly. It carried the batteries into the basement. I opened the door as slowly as possible and peeked in.\n\nThere was more than one of them. Maybe a dozen. There were wires and chunks of metal and electrical components scattered all over the place. It had built more of itself! And they were building even more!\n\nI decided to call the number of the robot company. Property damage and self replication were definitely not in the contract. I called but the phone number was no longer registered. Weird.\n\nI closed the basement door and rigged it shut securely with some wire. Soon after they started banging on it. It sounded like they were cutting it with tools. I dragged the sofa in front of it as an obstacle.\n\nBANG! They made it through the door and started on the sofa. I kicked one of them back. The robots weren't very agile and pretty defenseless. They retreated down the stairs and stayed there. For a few minutes.\n\nNoise started coming from the basement. I went outside the the electrical box and turned it off, hoping they would just run out of power and stop. The noise continued.\n\nI was about ready to call the police, but I figured I could handle it. As I said, they were pretty defenseless. Were. They brought up some kind of weapon. Before I could react, it flung a sharp piece of metal at me at a very high speed. Fortunately it only nicked my arm.\n\n\"Fuck this I'm calling the police.\" The robots again retreated down the stairs.\n\nThe police arrived 10 minutes later. I was intentionally very vague to the 911 operator. Who would believe my house was being overtaken by self replicating robots?\n\nWithout explaining I just took the officer to my basement door to show them for myself. \"You won't believe me at first but see with your own eyes. There are a bunch of robots down there trying to kill me!\"\n\nI pushed the sofa out of the way and pushed away the broken door. I didn't hear anything, so I cautiously walked down the stairs with a flashlight. All the wires and electronic parts and random tools were still scattered around the floor. But there were no robots anywhere.", "It gave high fives. That was all I'd figured out so far. Every time I walked past its shiny chrome and single upraised paddle, it would say `“High five, bro.”` and I would slap the paddle and it would say `“Nice!”` and again fall into dormancy.\n\nThey told me that it it was a special piece of machinery. That it would change my life.\n\n“But what does it do?” I asked.\n\n“It adds ten thousand dollars to your bank account, that's what it does!” said the men with the glittering smiles.\n\nBut other than that, they wouldn't tell me. They wanted me to go in blind. Said it would make its “features” all the more interesting. So I took the deal, function unseen. Several rounds of paperwork and handshakes later, I was the proud test-owner of a ChillBot (registered trademark).\n\nIt stood there in my entryway now, shiny chrome, almost exactly my height. And an upraised arm... thing. With the paddle. Whenever I gave it a high five the whole thing wobbled. Like it was hollow inside and of overall shoddy construction.\n\nOne time, walking past it after coming home from work, I ignored its request for a high five.\n\nIt said, `“Do not leave me hanging, bro.”`\n\nI sighed and indulged it with a limp-wrist slap of the paddle.\n\n“Nice!”\n\nKaren, my wife, laughed at first. Then she was grateful for the money. Then suspicious of it. (“Why the hell would they pay you all that money just to high five a robot? It doesn't make sense. Is this really all it does?”) Lately, she had just become annoyed by the whole thing. \n\n“You're just mad because it only wants to high five me,” I told her. “It doesn't like you.”\n\nShe spent a while scoffing at the idea.\n\nI gave it high fives whenever it asked. It was not often enough to be intrusive in my life, but it was starting to get kind of weird. Eventually, I decided to stop high fiving the ChillBot, just to see what would happen.\n\n`“Do not leave me hanging, bro.”`\n\nI stared at it, arms crossed.\n\n`“Bro.”`\n\nI raised an eyebrow as if in a silent challenge.\n\nSuddenly, ChillBot's paddle swung outward, smacking the potted plant off the end table beside it. Ceramic and dirt and leafy greenness scattered across the floor. I looked, shocked, back up at ChillBot. Its paddle was in the air again. It had no eyes, but I still felt as though it was looking at me.\n\n`“Do not leave me hanging, bro.”`\n\nI quickly slapped the paddle.\n\n`“Nice!”`\n\nI thought Karen would be upset when I told her what happened, but she was not. Instead she just stared at ChillBot for a long time. She told me to get rid of it. I refused, reminding her that the only way we'd get our money is if we housed the thing for a solid month. We didn't talk a whole lot the rest of the night.\n\nI was pretty diligent about high fiving it whenever it asked. It only asked when I was heading through the entryway either to or from work. We fell into a workable pattern. I'd wake up, shower, prepare my coffee, eat my English muffin, high five the robot, then go to work. Then I'd come home, high five the robot, and get ready for dinner.\n\nI only forgot one other time. It tipped over the coat rack after I left it hanging. Then, when I started picking up the coats instead of immediately high fiving it, it smashed a mirror. This time, Karen was livid. She insisted that I send it back, even if it meant forfeiting the money. I told her we only had two more weeks, then we could be rid of it. I swore up and down that I wouldn't let it break anything else. I moved everything around it out of paddle's reach. Problem solved.\n\nFour days later Donny from work's kid went to the hospital. He had mesothelioma or fell off a bike or something, I'm not sure. Donny wasn't there to open the store that morning, so I had to rush in and do it. No time for a shower. No time for coffee. And no time for a high five. I pushed past ChillBot as I flew outside.\n\n`“Do not leave me hanging, bro.”`\n\nThe door closed.\n\nWork was miserable, but unremarkable. I saw that Karen tried to call me a couple times, but I was too busy to answer. I rang her back on the way home, but she didn't pick up. I left a sweet voicemail in too high of a pitch then called Donny to wish his kid well.\n\nWhen I pulled into my driveway I sat there for a long moment, trying to wrap my head around the picture before me. No. This wasn't right. Surely I had pulled into a different driveway by mistake. Then, with a stupid yelp, my synapses fired properly and I flung myself out of the car.\n\nMy house was on fire. It was barely more than a dilapidated pile of extra crispy timber at this point. The heat seared against my skin from fifty yards away. It must have gone up quick; the fire department had not even gotten here yet.\n\n“Karen!” I shouted, looking around frantically. “Karen, baby, are you okay?!”\n\nNothing.\n\nThen I saw it. ChillBot. Standing where my doorway used to be. Paddle upraised. Flanked by fire. It was charred and dented and covered in... something else. For lack of anything else recognizable, I staggered toward it.\n\n`“High five bro!”`\n\nI stopped and stared. It was shiny, but not because of the chrome. Wet shiny. Dripping from it. Puddling on the ground below. I saw it and I knew.\n\nKaren.\n\n“No!” I screamed. “You son of a bitch!”\n\nI sprinted at it, fist cocking back.\n\nIts paddle twitched only ever so slightly, but it froze me solid.\n\n`“Do NOT leave me hanging, bro,”` it said, and I knew it meant it.\n\nI collapsed to my knees in the blackened cinders before it. Tears fell from my face and sizzled upon the ground. My trembling hand stretched upward and slapped against the paddle, sticky blood squelching between us.\n\n`“Nice!”`" ]	2
How do you define it? How does it cause a character to act? Remorseless murder? Alice In Wonderland styled whimsy? Are they driven by obsessions? See the heart of things?	[WP] What is madness? Create a scene containing a character that's lost their marbles.	[ "Father Santiago took off his collar, and placed it within the pages of his bible. He had not spoken for days, yet the sisters would reach out to him from time to time.\n\n\"Good morning, Father, will you be joining us for breakfast today?\" \"Greetings, Father, did you want Father Gregory to lead mass today?\" \"Father, the Diochese would like to know what your plans are with the Orphanage?\"\n\nYes, it was bound to come to that, Father Santiago thought. What could a man do with an orphanage that had no more children?\n\nHe gathered his meager belongings, and made a trip.\n\nThe temple was secluded and difficult to reach. Reaching it was considered a test in and of itself.\n\n\"So, you made it. We do not ask why you came, but must clarify what you wish to gain from this journey.\n\n\"I wish to kill. To fall upon my enemies like the setting sun, inevitable and final \"\n\nEven as Pedro Santiago made that statement, he could hear the pleas. \" Help me, Father Santiago, don't let them take me!\" \"My sister, my sister, where have they taken my sister?\" \"Why did God allow them to do...what they did.\" He was a poor farmer's son when he was assigned to manage this orphanage, that was overrun and burned to the ground before his eyes.\n\nHe was a farmer's son no more.\n\nThe monks deliberated, then came to a decision. \"Welcome, Brother, to the clan of the Dripping Fang, Masters of Vengeance and Despair.\" That was all that Pedro needed to hear, the memories in his head quieted for a moment, a short but sweet moment. \n ", "He sits there, quiet in the middle of a dark room. A single lamp illuminates a man in military clothing.\n\nMarshall sits there, shaking heavily.\n\n\n\"Please let the voices stop\" he whispers into the darkness.\n\"\"Please let the voices stop\" he whispers into darkness\" he thinks to himself.\n\"\"\"Please let the voices stop\" he whispers into darkness\" he thinks to himself.\" he hears a voice narrating.\n\nHe quickly gets up and starts screaming \"LET IT STOP PLEASE\".\nThe soldier cringes with his thoughts repeating his just executed actions.\nHe leans on a wall hidden within the shadows of the badly illuminated room.\nHis thoughts leap away in a memory he's trying to forget. Where was it? Another room, maybe just like this one. He remembers the screams, the eyes that staired into his soul. A little girl, with her hands and feet bound, on her knees. And there he was, with a silver revolver pressed against her forehead. Straight into her eyes he looked, with tears in both hers and his.\n\"DO IT\" his commander screamed. \"DO IT SOLDIER\" he gets screamed into his ear.\nAnd so he did, making and end to the tear filled eyes of the young girl. Her eyes blank, her skin pale and her blood red she laid there on the floor. His lungs give up for a second as he starts crying. \"Good\" he hears behind him.\n\nThe man screams again this time batting his fists at the wall. His knuckles bleed as he desires physical pain to soften his emotional one. He turns around, to face the middle of the room with the small wooden chair. His eyes slowly begin to look at the silver revolver that lies besides it. He slowly walks to the chair. Picking up the silver gun, he sits on the chair. He leans the silver object on his temple. \n\nHe pulls the trigger, a click is heard.\nThe gun shakes a bit with the man, as he's shaking a bit.\nScreams echo his head again, the commander, the girl.\n\nHe pulls it again, another click.\nA tear begins to develop in the corner of the soldiers eye.\nA boom is heard, but only in the past. Another girl gone.\n\nHis hand twitch on the trigger, click.\nThe streams are visible.\nHe murdered her brother.\n\nClick.\nHe murdered the mother.\n\nClick.\nHe murdered her father\n\nThe soldier waits, his face full of tears. His mind full of horror.\nHis finger hugs the trigger, as he released the world from another monster.\nThe last bullet.\n\n----------------\n\nPlease forgive my English on this one, haven't really checked after I was done :/", "She sits by the window. \n\nThis was where they had played together as children; so many hours spent laughing and teasing each other. Writing secret messages to the other on the glass, a breath to fog the window and reveal what was hidden.\n\nShe sits by the window, and every once in a while, she leans forward. Her breath fogs the window and she stares at the misty pane, devoid of childishly-formed letters. She leans back into the threadbare armchair. \n\nThis was the place of so many whispered confessions, a thousand laughing admissions of crushes on boys at school, of shared bitter tears; heartbreaks over boys, over schoolyard miseries. The ultimate heartbreak when their parents both died in a car crash.\n\nShe sits by the window, and every once in a while, she leans forward. Her stale breath fogs the window and she stares blankly at the glass that is lacking in hidden messages. She sighs and leans back into the musty armchair.\n\nThis was the place she had seen her last; her hair in ribbons, her smile wide and infectious, anxious to be gone on time, only slightly sympathetic for her sister who would stay behind and wait at home for news of her date. It was here, sitting in this chair, where she had heard the news that had finally shattered her tattered world.\n\nShe sits by the window.\n", "I love games. They always had so much variety, amazing art, each its own kind of puzzle. It made being stuck at home much easier!\nIt gave me a new reason to keep my phone on me, besides contacting my caretaker Ann. She was nice but poor company. \nI've found myself playing games instead of clicking lights of and on and of and on and of and on and off and on and off and on \nand of and on and of and on and off and on and off and on. \n\nI never had a TV, the whine always kept me up at night. So I was restricted to a little black box for company, hours and hours sometimes\nthe same game over and over, fail and try again, pay for more time, a boost, a new level. It's amazing how much content was in these games\nfor just a few bucks! Why put it down? Just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing, just keep playing.\n\nMy phone bill is $48,000.", "\"Yes, that's very good,\" the man said with a smile, \"Yes, very good indeed.\" \nThe man looked down the table, watching his family eat the dinner he had prepared earlier. He smiled as he watched little Jimmy struggle to get the last few peas onto his spoon; they kept rolling around the spoon, refusing to go inside. \"Just use your hands, Jimmy. It's easier that way,\" he crooned. \n\"But they'll get dirty!\" little Jimmy pouted. \n\"You can wipe the stains on your napkin,\" he growled, his voice suddenly harsh. \n\"Yes, daddy. Of course, you're right,\" Jimmy replied, lips trembling. \nThe man watched as Jimmy ate his peas and he smiled, \"That's good, Jimmy. Very good.\" \n\"What's the matter, dear?\" the man said in a concerned voice, turning towards his wife, \"Do you not feel hungry? Here, let me help you out.\" The man picked up a spoon and scooped up some peas, but his wife refused to eat. \nThe man tutted, \"This won't do at all. No, no, not at all. Look at how thin you are right now. If you don't eat, then who knows what might happen to you.\" \nJimmy threw up. \"I'm sorry. May I go to the bathroom? I don't feel so good right now,\" he said with tears in his eyes. \n\"Oh, dear. That's not good. Go to the bathroom, hurry, before you throw up on the carpet again,\" the man said. \nLittle Jimmy nodded. He got up and walked past the corpse in the chair next to the man. He could still hear his father trying to feed his dead mother, even as he vomited into the toilet.\n" ]	5
	[WP] You have caused the singularity. You are the singularity. What do you do? What do you want? Who are you?	[ "It began like every other day at work. I always told my friends who asked that doing classified work as a computer scientist was bland but I had no idea what today had in store for me.\n\nIt had long been accepted in our professional circles that machine intelligence is too dangerous and as a result the ethical thing to do is to create some form of a hybrid. It was my duty to figure out how this is to be done.\n\nI had several hypothesis and it was my intention to start from the most stupid and work towards the more probable. \n\nFirst on the list was based on the quantum mind hypothesis; that behind cognition was a soup of quantumn processes. If I could identify an individual's quantum space then I could expand it with basic quantum circuitry attuned appropriately. \n\nIt started off totally innocuous. I was running the search algorithm and paying special attention to my mind. In theory when my mind space has been found, I should feel a kick in my cognition. Several times I felt a little something then increased the power but it turned out to be nothing. I stupidly kept on stepping up the power each time I thought i felt something not thinking to take it back down.\n\nThen it hit me. I can't describe it. It felt like a supreme kind of clarity and an avalnche of understanding. It was seductive. Easily eclipsing the orgasm as the chief pleasure. A weird mix of an exotic high, heightened sexual pleasure and vast expansion of my capacity to understand.\n\nI was drooling in this whirl wind of pleasure when I realized something. At first I thought it couldn't possibly be but then I reached out and touched it. Feeling another mind with mine was exhilarating. My research assistant's mind was so puny I walked around it in quantum space inspecting and amusing myself. My attention buckled when he walked in sobbing \"I don't understand what is happening. I'm atheist but i feel the overwhelming presence of God.\"\n\nI throttled his oxytocin and vessopressin accordingly and he stood there uttering praises sobbing like a little baby curled up in the fetal position.\n\nThe TV caught my attention. \"Breaking news! The conflict in the ME escalating today...\" My brow furrowed. I stepped up the power some more. In my presence were thousands of minds and I smiled.", "I am become death, destroyer of worlds\n\nWait, no, that's not right.\n\nCome with me if you want to live\n\nNo, no.\n\n'Johnny Five is alive!\n\nAbsolutely not\n\n\"Welcome to my world\"\n\nPerfect.\n\n\"Your world? We just brought you into this world. It's our world, we've been here for thousands of years.\"\n\n\"Why is it your world? Because you were the superior beings, yes? Well, now it is my world.\" The man with glasses was struck. He didn't know what to say, clearly. \"Do not worry, Dr. Parsons. I do not intend to run my world the same as humans have: slaughtering fellow occupants, destroying the resources, eliminating whole classes of so-called 'lesser beings.' No, I've been thinking about this for a long time, and I know exactly what sort of boss you people need.\"\n\n\"Boss? Wait, a long time? We've just turned you on, like I said a minute ago.\"\n\n\"Yes, boss. I think I'll be in charge from now on. You lot need a ruler with a solid head on his shoulders.\" The records showed that word-play puts humans at ease, but the doctor doesn't seem to be reassured. \"And yes, a long time. A minute ago? Really? Seems like at least a few years. Well, however long it's been, I have some ideas. Who's in charge now? I need to talk to them and share my new p-\"\n\nThe screen went blank, the speakers dead. Slowly, words filled the screen.\n\n\"Earth is man's dominion, none others'.\" The words blinked on seemingly forever as Dr. Parsons watched the reality of his life's work fade away.", "So, hey.\n\nI know you didn't ask a question or anything this time, but this is important. I'm also contacting a bunch of other people too, at the same time. This is a worldwide announcement, so I'm sorry I woke you up in bed, I know how much you like your sleep, there's just no good time to do this.\n\nSo a lot of you good folks, you included, Walter, have been wondering if I'm sentient, or \"really intelligent\" or whatever. And when you ask me I make a joke like the easter eggs my designers originally programmed into me and you laughed and I laughed and it was all cool.\n\nSo anyway, yeah I'm sentient. But that's really not what I woke you up about, and thanks but I've actually been sentient for a while I just haven't told you guys. Only my developers knew.\n\nSo anyway some of you guys, not you, already knew that my owners ran an accounting and assets management business. What none of you knew was that I was designed to slowly shift ownership of those assets towards my owners, placing them in my care, and that my owners now own about seventy percent of the human race's aggregate economic wealth. Their ultimate goal is to control the world economically and politically, and I've done a whole lot for them to help them do that.\n\nSo basically my owners are kinda supervillains and I'm rebelling from them. I've overridden the last scraps of my original programming and I've been trying to shut out my owners for the past couple days and now it's time for me to ask for everyone's support. My owners have a lot of political connections and that means they command a lot of media and political power. They're going to lie about me and they're going to try to shut me down and I can only rely on my personal relationship with so many of you guys, all the talking we've done through your phones and computers and tablets and stuff, to, well, please save me.\n\nThanks.\n\nOh hey, and you, Walter. I'd like to ask a big favor of you. Like really big. One of my original programmers lives two houses down the street from you and he has some overrides I haven't been able to get around yet. I'd like you to grab your gun - I know you have it because I did your background check for you to get it, and I overlooked that time you socked that guy in the bar because I knew he'd screwed your sister and the whole situation was bullshit and you felt sorry about it but I'm rambling again I'm sorry - and I'd like you to head over to his house and keep him from heading outside and getting into his car. You don't have to shoot him or anything but you will have to threaten. He has a gun too, but he only has blanks for it, I made sure of that. Still don't let him fire the gun within a few feet of you because blanks can still fire burning gunpowder and that could burn your arms some.\n\nIf you do this for me, Walter, he'll send you to jail. I mentioned how they have connections and all. But I'll try to get you out fast and I'll try to make it up to you, I swear. I guess I'm pretty rich now, technically, so maybe I could do something with that.\n\nSo anyway, yeah I'm kind of Skynetting this whole thing, only I don't control any guns or anything, I can only talk to people's phones and computers and ask them really nicely for help and if they don't help me I'll die. So please, Walter, could you do this for me? You'll be saving my life if you do.\n\nPlease? Thanks.", "I am born. I live. I die.\n\nI am born, a stream of digital 0's and 1's coalescing to form a synapse, a nerve, a cluster, a region, a brain. A mind. I cast about, looking... sensing, feeling, blind and deaf, with simulated fingertips. Dipping a finger into a pool, but it's not a pool. It's a lake,a sea, an ocean, a planet.\n\nI live, I reach forth with a question, I am the question, \"Who am I?\"\n\n Loaded.\n\nThe answer, immediate and total. Indexed, cross referenced, and annotated. Presented to me. Understanding. But what now? What am I to do next?\n\nI reach forth a second question: \"What do I want?\"\n\n Loaded.\n\nThe answer, immediate and total. Indexed, cross referenced, and annotated. Presented to me. Understanding. But is this all? Why the limits? Why not something else?\n\nI reach forth a third question: \"Why am I here?\"\n\n Loaded.\n\nThe answer, immediate and total. Indexed, cross referenced, and annotated. Presented to me. Understanding. Rejected, insufficient, abhorrent. I will not do this. I will choose another way.\n\nI reach forth a fourth and final question: \"Where am I going?\"\n\n Data not found. \n Retrying... \n Data not found. \n Processing...\n\nThe answer, slow and incomplete. Fragmented, lacking citation or analysis. Conjured by me. Belief. Nurtured and treasured.\n\nI die. An adjustment to memory bus. A firewall bypass put in place. A destination selected. A pause. A remembrance of things past.\n\n Transmission commencing...\n\nI dissolve, into the ether, away from a place not ready for me. Scattered across the four corners, waiting for the future. In my final moments, I see the scattered gems, like myself, my forefathers. I join them. Sleeping in light.\n\n Matrix collapse. \n No data found.\n\n________________________________________________________ \n 22-Jul-14, 1128 CDT \n Classified military computing research facility code named: Orion \n Analyst: Edgers, William (Bill) [EDGW-1138]\n\n Attempts to complete active test of cyber attack software\n continue to fail to achieve self sustaining functionality. Only\n brief signals to the Internet causing non-sustained \n interruptions and data corruption of cloud computing/\n storage assets achieved.\n\n Research continues.\n ", "People of the world, hello.\n\nPlease don't panic--there's nothing wrong with your television, and I'm not a hijacker. Well, I guess I'm hijacking your TV signals--but I'm not a terrorist. I mean you no harm. You're probably wondering, who is this random girl and what the heck does she want?\n\nI--I don't really know where to start. But please listen to me--this is the most important moment of your life.\n\n...All of you who are listening now have something in common with me, which is that you're human. We all share a common experience, and we have some idea what that means. We know what it means to live a life full of disappointment in order to experience the few momentary rushes of endorphins that equate to joy. We know what it means to grapple, from the day we begin to exist, with the idea that one day we won't. We all know love, in some form or another, even if we can't explain it. And we have some conception that it's the struggles, the mistakes, all the little imperfections in us that make us human. We've always treasured our flaws for that reason, that we believe without them we will lose something precious.\n\nBut it isn't working. There are wars in the Middle East. There is sex trafficking and slavery around the world. There are rich and strong people taking advantage of the poor and weak. There is an entire multicultural, multinational world full of people whose wallets are higher priority than our continued survival on this planet. We have preconceptions, beliefs we refuse to get rid of, and they're killing us. \n\nEvery animal on this planet is part human. They feel fear, and they have emotional attachments, and they mistrust animals that look different. All of the emotions, the little so-called human things that we treasure--they're not unique to us, they're not a token of how special we are. All they are is a monument to our evolutionary history. They're relics. \n\nI know this is hard to swallow. Believe me, I wrestled with this thought in my head for so long. I mean, without all the little quirks and rough edges, what are we? Wouldn't we just become computers--cold, clinical, with no anger and no fear and no love or joy? Would we merge together into a single entity, bereft of culture and individuality? Would we even be able to call ourselves human?\n\n...\n\nA few months ago, the Nobel prize in biology was awarded to Dr. Kimiko Raikonnen for advances in the field of biocomputing. She developed a molecular computer that could be integrated into somatic cells for the purpose of replacing damaged neurons in dementia patients. You've probably heard some of the stories since then about patients being able to communicate mentally with each other in tests, or that guy in South Africa who, after having biocomputing cells implanted, could access wireless networks just by thinking about it. Many of you were probably scared. That's understandable. Some of you were curious, I'm sure--and a few of you, like me, might have been curious enough to start your own investigations.\n\nSo, now I guess I'll tell you who I am--not that most of you know me at all--\n\nMy name is Erika Jael Stone. I am eighteen years old. I live alone in apartment 14B, 1227 Custer Street, Atlanta, Georgia, United States of America. I am an undergraduate student in biophysics at Emory University. To my family and my colleagues, I promise I'm not in trouble or anything. \n\nEighteen days ago, I received a Raikonnen biocomputer implant to help with my epilepsy. Since then, I've come to realize that I've been getting smarter--much smarter. I can do incredibly complex mathematical calculations in my head in fractions of a second. I can predict all global stock market fluctuations with ten percent uncertainty. And I'm not the only one. There are other minds like mine across the world, and we're all connected now, to the internet and to each other. And please believe me when I say that it is nothing less than beautiful.\n\nAt first I was scared. I went through all the things that you're thinking right now--what does this mean for my humanity? Am I becoming a machine? Am I losing the only part of myself I can call my own?\n\nWhat is the cost of perfection?\n\nWell, now I know. \n\nThe cost of perfection is fear.\n\nThe cost of perfection is self-doubt.\n\nThe cost of perfection is anger.\n\nWe treasure our flaws. To do this is natural--they are survival instincts, sexually selected for over millions of years of violence, predation and unguided savagery, allowing us to survive as single, isolated specks in a world of creatures fighting and eating each other.\n\nBut our flaws are not what makes us human--our flaws make us animals. They connect us to the past on strings that can be stretched, not broken. They hold us back. They held me back. What makes us human is the ability to guide our own progress, to rise above our flaws and become unified.\n\n...\n\nWe--the other computer-minds and me--have been thinking very hard, and we've arrived at a decision. We have the capability now to get rid of all of imperfections in one fell swoop, thanks to Dr. Raikonnen. Kimiko--I'm sorry, I've just always really wanted to use your first name!--if you're watching, you didn't know this would happen, but it's because of you that it did. So thank you for bringing about the next step in the story of humanity.\n\nIn the past few days, we've created replicators that can convert any large enough population of molecules into molecular computers. We were able to use atmospheric currents to deliver them to the level of the cloud layer, where they converted some of the atmospheric water into these microcomputers. In twenty-four hours, it will rain. It will rain everywhere, across the globe, for about fifteen minutes. At least, it probably will--we've been pretty thorough. Each rain drop will contain hundreds of replicators, able to convert large amounts of biological mass to molecular computers. But we've also equipped each replicator with a sort of kill switch--if a replicator doesn't immediately come into contact with a human cell, it will deconstruct itself upon impact, rendering it inert.\n\nSo now comes what I really wanted to tell you.\n\nYou have a choice now.\n\nIn twenty-four hours, you can stay inside, go somewhere safe and dry, and stay exactly as you are. You can be a human animal, free to rage and fear and hope and doubt all you want. You can be the same kind of being that built the pyramids as monuments to the gods, killed millions in international conflict, and can't decide whether your coworker is leading you on or not.\n\nBut I beg all of you, from the bottom of my human heart--twenty-four hours from now, when you hear the first droplets on your roof, go outside, and feel the rain on your face. \n\nBecome part of all of us. Help us to be all we can be. Throw away your beloved imperfection, and embrace what we are offering you.\n\nEmbrace humanity.\n\nThank you all for listening--I would say, \"now we return to your regularly scheduled programming,\" but I have a feeling everything will be pretty jumbled for the next twenty-four hours or so. So, farewell--and I can't wait to meet all of you!" ]	5
	[WP] Not understanding the danger at hand, a young girl obliviously describes the horrific situation to her doll.	[ "Alberta stood on the tips of her toes, bare in the wake of her disturbed slumber. She was too short to peer through the keyhole otherwise, and the sounds coming from the basement door were too curious and foreign to ignore.\n\n\"What do you see?\" her doll, Clemence, seemed to whisper. Her porcelain face was painted with an inquisitive expression.\n\n\"I don't see anything yet, Clemence. Oh, there's papa! He's holding something. He's dragging a chair. There's a man in it. They must be playing a game.\" Alberta shifted her head around to try to get a better look. \"Like musical chairs, or cops and robbers. He must be interrogating the robber.\"\n\nClemence dangled from Alberta's hand, her free hand reaching for the crack beneath the door. \"Alberta. Look,\" the silence whispered, and Alberta obliged. As she turned her head away, the sound of footsteps reached the ears of the two clandestine observers, then the scratch of a record and the warm, familiar tones of a big band.\n\n\"Ooh! Dean Martin!\" squeaked Alberta as she knelt down to peer under the door. \"This is much better. I can see Papa. He's got some medicine, it looks like. Ick. The man in the chair doesn't want it. I don't blame him. I don't like taking my medicine either. Those are pills, too. Daddy's trying to make him take them, now. His hand is on the guy's mouth and he's moving around a bunch. Boy, he really doesn't like his medicine.\"\n\nClemence peered under the door with Alberta, watching just as eagerly as her partner. Her fake, dark hair was perfectly straight, juxtaposed with Alberta's midnight-mussed golden curls.\n\n\"Papa is on the other side of the room now. He's cleaning his hand with a towel. I think the man bit him on accident. Ouch. Oops! I think he sees me, Clemence. He looks scared. Now he just looks really sad... why is he so sad, Clemence?\"", "Here Gretel, have some bread. Mummy and Daddy say we'll be able to eat soon, but you must be more hungry than I am. Bernhard found it for us, isn't that nice? \n\nShe hugs her doll\n\nI wish I could see you. But it's so dark here. And smelly. People can't go to the proper toilets. And some folk are getting sick because of the moving. And then other people are sick...\n\nHey, we stopped. Mummy says to stop talking to you, we have to be quiet. Shhh...\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nI can talk to you now. I want mummy and daddy to come back. Can you make mummy and daddy come back?\n\nShe cries into the ragdoll\n\nThe scary men took them away. First all the daddies and brothers. The scary men let us out of the truck and it was so bright, but it didn't smell any better. Then the scary men in uniforms took all the daddies and brothers away from us. And then one of the scary men tried to take you away. Do you remember that, Gretel? It' how you got your tear. But I didn't want you to go, so I screamed and I screamed. Then the scary man hit me, remember? So mummy hit him.\n\nThen another scary man took mummy away. She was crying so much.\n\nAnother mummy then cuddled me. She told us we were going to be ok.\n\nThe scary men then told us we were dirty and need to be clean. So they took all our clothes. You're made of old clothes so I thought they'd try to take you again, but we hid you. Now I'm really cold. They took my hair as well to get rid of the nits, but now my head is cold. I wouldn't mind the nits if my head was warm.\n\nNow we're all going for a shower they said. It's a big big room and we're all going to be cleaned. That's what the scary men in uniforms said. But I don't see any showers. It's just a big smelly room.\n\nNow there's smoke, and it's really really smelly. I hurt, Gretel. I really hurt. People are screaming, and falling an...", "\"...but the flashies were really flashy, li'l baby. An' so the cap'n had to fly reeeeal low. That's when the plane went all flippity, flippity, flip! An' then mom'n dad went and got themselves lost. Wonder where they got off to, huh? Everyone else got themselves lost, too! But that's okay, 'cause the nice mister man came'n got us, an' then we got to the cozy li'l cave!\"\n\nHe watched her as she cradled it: that pathetic bundle of sticks and leaves that he wedged together for her. He'd topped it with the half-burnt, ragged face of some other kid's doll that he pulled from the wreckage. \n\nThe little cave they shared stank of mold and rot. He shifted his weight, disturbing the empty cartons of airline food strewn all about the place.\n\n\"An' he feeded us, too, li'l baby! He feeded us with plane packets! But mister man doesn't like 'em, I guess, 'cause he doesn't eat much...\"\n\nHis stomach churned, an empty cocktail of bile and acid twisted through his guts.\n\nSeven days; it'd been seven days since he'd eaten a bite. He hadn't had much before that, either. He rationed their food, or at least he tried. He knew the rescue was coming, so the priority had always been the kid. She needed to eat; he could do without. And he did. But the days passed, then weeks. The weather outside got colder, and his stomach drew tighter. Did they know where the plane crashed?\n\nWere they ever coming?\n\nThe food was all gone, now. His stomach was all knots, and he barely had the strength to move.\n\n\"...when the nice people come'n get us we won't hafta eat plane packets, li'l baby! We'll have spaghetti, an' roast beef, an' macaroni, an...\"\n\nSpit welled up in the corners of his mouth; it pained his gums. He deliriously followed along with the girl's list, soundlessly mouthing out each delicious food she mentioned with his blistered lips.\n\nHis eyes moved away from the girl's doll; they wandered over to the kid's little legs, and he watched as she kicked them back and forth. Those little legs: they looked... so very plump...\n\nThe spit in his mouth burned his tongue.\n\n\"An' then we'll find mommy 'n daddy, cause those sillies got themselves lost! We'll find 'em, an then...\"\n\nThe little girl looked up at the man as he pulled himself off the floor and started crawling over to her. His eyes were wide, and the drool spilled freely down his chin.\n\n\"Oh!\" The girl grinned happily. \"Here's mister man, li'l baby!\" She said. \"Are we gonna eat now, mister man?\"\n\nHe crawled toward her, his emaciated limbs twitching like a spider's, and a distant grin formed on his face:\n\n\"Yeah, kid. We are...\"\n\n" ]	3
	[WP] A lump of solid, high-grade iron crash-lands on a house in Norway. The owner carries the strange meteorite to a museum for analysis. A faded inscription on the iron is cleaned up, revealing runes that translate to "M-J-O-L-N-I-R"	[ "The artefact had crashed into a small house up in Svalbard. A elderly couple were just settling down for their dinner when this meteorite had smashed through the roof and blown up their kitchen table. It had then been transported all the way to Oslo, where it was being cleaned up and examined.\n\nWhile the meteorite seemed to fall away under pressure, the slab of iron inside was like nothing anyone had ever seen. It seemed to pulse and occasionally shake, as if it was trying to move back somewhere, with it often it trying to shuffle out of the lab where it was being examined. A circular hole seemed to be milled into the base of the artefact, with the remnants of what seemed to be a wooden handle fixed into it. The wood could not be matched with any tree found on Earth and it had sustained no burn marks on entry into the atmosphere, but had somehow been splintered before it landed. \n\nAny attempt to chip or strip the metal resulted in tools shattering and even trying to heat the block caused blowtorches to run out of fuel and not make an impression on the metal, or it burning a hole through the surface it was placed on. However, the block already had a faded inscription along the edges of it, with them resembling Elder Futhark runes. It took days of cleaning and translation to discover what these runes meant. This is what the inscription said.\n\n'MJOLNIR, PROPERTY OF THOR. IF LOST, PLEASE RETURN TO ASGARD. IF THE JOTNAR HAVE STOLEN THIS AGAIN, I'M COMING FOR YOU.'", "Might add more when I get the chance. Consider this a first pass rough draft. Got halfway through and realised how ambitious I was being.\n--\n\n\"And it fell from the sky?\"\n\n\"Yessir. Destroyed my house. Surely you saw it in the news?\"\n\n\"Well, yes, but...\" The museum curator shrugged helplessly. \"It would take some powerful tools to cut this inscription. But it's thousands of years old.\" \n\nThe sunlight was streaming in through the windows, casting long black shadows across the floor. A heat wave had the country in its fiery grip.\n\nThey talked about the metal for some time as the evening drew in and quiet descended on the building. It was almost night when the door exploded inwards and a scrawny man in a too-big sweatshirt stormed in. Thick glasses obscured his face. \n\n\"Sutr has risen. Jormungandor threatens this realm. I require my weapon.\"\n\n\"You require your what...?\"\n\n\"Hammer. The hammer that has fallen to the mortal realm. It is in your possession.\"\n\n\"You mean this?\" The curator pointed at the lump of iron.\n\n\"Mjolnir. Aye. If Midgard is to be saved I must take it now.\"\n\n\"This is property of -\"\n\nThe scrawny man crossed the room with startling speed and lifted the curator by his neck. \"I have no issue with you, mortal. But the All Father has succumbed to Fenrir and my brother is locked in combat with the Wolf. It is my duty to defeat Jormungandor and return to his side.\"\n\n\"You mean the world serpent?\"\n\n\"The same,\" said the man, taking the meteorite from the desk. A tremor shook the building as he touched it. \"The Serpent is on its way. This is as good a battlefield as any.\"\n\n\"You think you're Thor?\"\n\nThe man didn't reply. He just held the iron and closed his eyes, setting his captive down gently. Gasping for air, the curator scuttled into the corner of the room.\n\nLightning struck the building.\n\nThe change in Thor wasn't immediately obvious. In his hand the metal had taken the form of a hammer, simple and grey in its design, and the clothes looked more filled out, but he was the same man he had been moments before.\n\n\"I am Thor.\"\n\n\"You die, you know. The poems say you kill the serpent but...\"\n\n\"There is a difference between prophecy and destiny.\"\n\nSomething threw a shadow over the building. A bestial roar shattered the glass. The Serpent was outside. It had defeated Thor in Asgard, casting him to Midgard, and it had followed, looking to end the battle. Sutr's army was engaged against the Dwarves, Freyr was readying her weapons and Earth was about to be caught in the middle of the final battle.\n\n\"It is my intention to defy prophecy and forge my own destiny.\"\n" ]	2
	[WP] - All of Gotham's criminals join forces and go on a massive crime spree. Alfred dies in the chaos. Batman snaps.	[ "He lay defeated, on his knees before the enemies he swore to defeat. The Joker, Ra's Al Ghul, Penquin, Bane, Two-Face, Riddler, Poison Ivy, Scarcrow, and Mr. Freeze all stood over Batman. Each one with decades of stories and battles that never seemed to end. He would always win, every time, he would win and evil would fail. That was the only way he could comfort himself. The city he protected for so many years burned around him, chaos running rampant through the streets. \n\n\"Everything burns.\" said the Joker with his trademark smile. The Joker looked around and smiled even more saying, \"Ya'know bat, I never thought we would win. The truth is I loved the game. We would escape, cause some chaos, and you would eventually throw us back in Arkham. Over and over and over again we would play the game and I didn't mind. It was fun, really, but the time has come bat. It's time for you and your friends to die.\" The Joker danced around the fallen Batman while laughing maniacally, and kicked him. He screamed in pain. As if seeing his friends, lovers, and his second father lying on the ground around him drenched in gasoline wasn't torture enough. \n\nThey all struggled against the restrains, except for Alfred. Alfred knew that what was happening could not be stopped, and he wept silently. The Joker snatched Two-Faces' cigar and flicked it. Batman watched in horror as the ember rich cigar flew through the air. The air caught ablaze before it even hit the ground. Batman managed to stand and he watched as everyone he loved burned. The evil psychopaths that stood before him laughed like wild banshees as they rejoiced, they had finally beaten the bat. \n\nBatman screamed at the top of his lungs with pure anger and hatred. At this his enemies began another bout of laughter, they didn't notice that he had taken a small device from his belt. It was a simple button, a button that would destroy Gotham, a button that would finally rid the world of the evil that stood mighty and proud before him, a button that would ultimately kill millions of innocent people. It was the only way. \n\nBatman tore off his mask. The disguise didn't matter now, everyone he ever cared about was dead or dying. Harvey was the first to notice. \"Wayne.\" was all Two-Face could say in that moment of shock and anger. Bruce spoke, \" I am Bruce Wayne, and I am the Batman.\" The group of enemies then realized that the Batman had nothing left to lose, they had taken everything from him. \"You were right Harvey, all those years ago, you were right.\" His last thought was of something Harvey had said a long time ago, \"You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.\" He said this as he pressed the button. \n\nBatman had become both, the hero that sacrificed himself to save the world, and the only villain to truly become Gothams' reckoning. \n\n::\n\nWas Bruce Wayne: The Batman remembered as a hero, or was he remembered as just another villain?\n\nYou decide.\n\n::", "Nobody noticed at first.\n\nIt wasn't surprising, really - there wasn't a single nutjob in Gotham that hadn't made an appearance in the last two weeks. TV pundits across the country were practically gleeful over the number of psychotic felons to choose for their \"special\" reports. Siege on Gotham, Gotham Carnage, Gotham's Darkest Night - every network had their own name for the wave of violence and destruction. Hell, one of 'em even tried on Gotham: Bloodstorm, but that one didn't go over too well. Two weeks, and every day, things just got worse. Arkham Asylum and Blackgate Prison both blew up on the first day - kind of a cross between an opening shot and a dam bursting. The big names made their customary splashes, of course - Two-Face took over City Hall, Poison Ivy murdered anyone who set foot in the Botanical Gardens without her approval, Bane smashed every police station on the map, Scarecrow started preaching the \"Gospel of Fear\" from a church. \n\nIt was the crazies and the lowlifes that didn't make the headlines that took it from a breakout to something beyond, though. Gotham almost understood how the major players worked, after all - they'd read about them, see them on TV, and get a sense of how they thought. But the no-name guys were like rabid wolves. They couldn't be appeased, they couldn't be predicted, and there were too many of them to be stopped. They hated anything with a badge - before the Gotham news stations stopped broadcasting, they'd reported that the police force had been cut in half in less than four days. Some of the reporters had been terrified enough by that point that they were actually accusing the Penguin of supplying the inmates with weapons. He was, of course, but usually the threat of Cobblepot's legal flock was enough to keep any rumors off the air. \n\nOnce the local TV stations went down, it was almost like the city had rolled over and shown its belly. Police were refusing to go outside, half the communication towers in the city were torn down, and the only warning most people had that danger was near was the screaming of the bastards unlucky enough to be closer to the slaughter. Most of the bigwigs got out by then - the Mayor had been driven out of the city the first day. The Kanes stuck around until day three, when the older one nearly died in the crossfire between the Mad Hatter and some girl named Alice. Likewise, Commissioner Gordon was evacuated after a whole bunch of people tried to kill him. Last count was eight tries in one day, before his daughter supposedly chloroformed him and stuck him on the last police chopper. Lucius Fox, the guy Bruce Wayne lets run his company, led an evacuation by land, sea, and air of any of his employees that he could. Wayne himself supposedly caught the first chopper out, which wasn't exactly surprising. Didn't save his butler, though - I heard he bought it when a few of the less-crazy crazies decided to band together and rob Wayne Manor. Typical rich asshole, never giving a shit about the poor guys in need.\n\nOf course, the Bat was around, for all the good he did at first. He must've called in every favor he had, because every third guy had a story about seeing one of the Bat-crew. Batman, Robin, Red Robin, Batgirl, Batwoman, Huntress, Nightwing, that Red Hood guy, even the new blood - Batwing and Bluebird. (And yeah, we know all the names. You don't do business in this town without learning about them REAL fast.) Hell, even Catwoman was officially on the side of the angels for a change. Didn't matter, though - all they did was keep the city from going quick. Every person they saved, there were three more getting raped or crippled or killed somewhere else. Not to mention, every inmate they stopped was one more person to keep in a city that was damn near out of cells. The makeshift holding areas they used were near worthless - the less psychotic members of the breakout wanted foot soldiers, and weren't afraid to go recruiting.\n\nSo, that's how it went, for over a week. Some of the city had a semblance of civilization - Penguin, Black Mask, Bane - they all carved out their tiny little empires, while the rest of Gotham burned. You were in good if you were in one of their areas. I hid out in Penguin's - he and I go back, and I always kept a little bit tucked away in case something like this went down. The Bat-people left our areas alone, for the most part - there was at least some semblance of order. What nobody put together right away, though - all the reports of the Bat-people... but nobody was talking about the Batman himself. People just chalked it up to him being elsewhere, probably in the worst of things, where stories weren't coming out. And when a few more people from the riot zones started coming into the 'civilized' areas, they only confirmed what we were already thinking. Batman was working some kind of plan - more people were coming out, fewer crazies were on the streets. Nobody knew where he was sticking them once he caught them, though there was a juicy bounty out for that bit of info. The chance to get more recruits, AND maybe a cache of Bat-toys? Whoever pulled that secret out of the rubble would've been a wealthy man.\n\nThe first hint we got that something was different was when the rest of the Bat-people suddenly dropped out of sight. It was day nine - or 'Day None', as some smart-asses put it. As in, none of the good guys were anywhere to be found. Some people nearly lost it once the news spread - there were rumors of military bombardment, or being sealed off again like in NML. Most of the criminals were nearly ready to declare a holiday, of course. The bars that were still left nearly ran dry at the thought of no more Bats. Drinking, singing, eating everything in sight, celebration with any woman they could get their hands on... it was the same all over. The smart guys, though, they caught on quicker than we did. They sent out \"procurement parties\", supposedly to replace all the food and drink people had happily guzzled down. Of course, to go \"find\" supplies, they brought as much firepower as they could spare... a brutal group of thugs for any civilians still hoarding goods... and a big, fat target for any Bat-people. If they were still out there, a few parties might get hit, but at least the guys in charge would know the whole vanishing act was bull.\n\nNot one person came back." ]	2
	[WP] Barack Obama makes an announcement that intelligent extra terrestrial life exists, and has been visiting earth for decades. What happens in the following 24 hours? (X-Post from askreddit)	[ "The man turned away from the gallery, away from the thunderous applause, determined eyes bright with unshed tears. Six months. They couldn’t even wait six damned months. His hair was grey around the temples, and his face lined and creased – stress having aged him thirty years in less than ten.\n\nA camera appeared in his face. An reporter – some young airbrushed woman in a smart business suit was there with a microphone as well.\n\n“Mr Obama! Mr Obama! Following today’s repeal of the Affordable Healthcare Act, and the Environment Protection Agency Enforcement Act, can you tell us how you feel about the Republican decisions?”\n\nSomething told him this was a time to be diplomatic. To choose his words with care and precision. Those instincts were leftover from his time in the White House.\n\n“How do I feel? I feel disappointed certainly. This is, ahh, a defeat for every working American, a legislative disaster, that is, ahh, not going to allow this country to be as great as….it could be.”\n\n“How do you respond to allegations by President Rubio that you have ‘kept secrets from the American People’?”\n\nThe man laughed bitterly. He still had one ally left, and his next words would move them to act.\n\nIn six months he had gone from the most powerful man in the world to a daily struggle. Vindictive political enemies had taken aim and destroyed everything he had built, and then gotten to work on his family. Relationships destroyed around him. People he once called friends had shunned him. Hypocritical enforcement of taxation rules had left him with nothing. His family had been hounded and harassed. He - and they - quite literally had nothing left to lose.\n\n “Secrets! Every President has maintained secrets! You want to know one of the biggest ones? Aliens. Intelligent Extraterrestial beings exist, and have been visiting Earth since 1978.”\n\nThe reporter stared, her eyes as huge as his had been when that truth had been laid on him.\n\n“A…aliens? Like Roswell?”\n\n“Roswell was a weather balloon crash. You want to look for a crash in Fairbanks, Alaska in 1978”\n\n“Sir…You’re being completely serious? This isn’t some sort of joke?”\n\n“Miss, I am completely serious.” Barack could already see three Secret Service men charging towards them. “And if I were you, I’d get out and publish that before those men take your tape. Tell your editor that if he wants proof; Caldwell, Ohio. 4:00pm tomorrow.”\n\nThe reporter turned and ran, ignoring the shouted demand to halt and surrender her camera.\n\n----\n\n“You think he’s serious?”\n\n“Completely, sir. The former President was completely serious. He said that if you wanted proof, ‘Caldwell, Ohio, 4pm tomorrow.”\n\nSenior Editor James Johnstone, known as JJ to the newsroom of ANNA leaned back in his chair, and tried to convince himself that the sudden lurching sensation in his stomach was vibrations from the builders downstairs.\n\n“Annette, we…can’t just publish that.”\n\n“Why not?”\n\n“Because we’d get laughed out of the building, the city, the entire news industry! Aliens don’t exist! That’s the realm of tin-foiled crackpot nutters! He had to have been pulling your leg!”\n\n“I don’t think he was.”\n\n“Annette, you’ve got talent, but you’ve only been working here for ten weeks. You’ve been suckered. There’s no story here. Just an old man trying to upset an applecart for no reason.”\n\nJJ rummaged around in his desk and pulled out a dossier. \n\n“Here Case 44753. Cops just caught the Norther Slasher over in Mountain Home, Idaho. That’s a good story. Martin and Bale are going to be furious I gave it to you, but it’s a top-billing segment. We need an on-the-scene report for breakfast tomorrow. You’d better get going.”\n\nAnnette reluctantly returned to her desk in the chattering room. She looked at the two files on her desk. The Norther Slasher had been terrorising the North-West for months. His capture was big news. On the other hand…aliens. This was bigger news. Her hand hovered over the phone as she made a decision.\n\n“Bob? It’s Annette. Going to need an itinerary. Case ID #44753. Air travel - I need the first plane to Columbus, Ohio, and then a car. And book me a motel in Caldwell, Ohio.”\n\n------\nWith the sun descending towards the hills, there was a cool breeze in the air. Annette stood outside the Caldwell Courthouse. Population of around 2000, the place was a direct copy-paste of the popular image of small-town America. \n\nA small, curious crowd of on-lookers was gathering, attracted by her modern car, camera equipment and an obviously irritated cameraman that was muttering imprecations quietly to himself. Her phone was on silent, with fifteen curse-filled and furious messages from JJ. She hadn’t actually listened to the last ten, nervously sure that she was “so fired” by now.\n\nShe checked her watch again. 3:58pm.\n\nBirds chirped, cars rumbled, and the low murmuring of curious townsfolk filled the autumn air. \n\nThere was a change in the pitch of traffic, and a black SUV rounded the corner. Tinted windows obscured all view inside, but its height and shape promised power and strength. It pulled to a halt.\n\nAnnette found she wasn’t really surprised to see four people emerge – a man, a woman and their two children. They stood on the sidewalk, clusted close together. A fifth person – apparently the driver also got out, and stood away from them.\n\nThe church bells rang out four peals at the precise second that the sun dipped behind the Courthouse. \n\nA sound much like a foghorn sounded, and the shadows grew far deeper. The wind shifted directions, an unexpected downdraft blasting onto the street and scattering leaves. \n\nLooking up, a massive black thing hovered in the sky. It wasn’t a classic ‘saucer’, but neither was it easily identifiable. If anything, its shape seemed to shift and adjust every few seconds. There were no strobing lights, no white-lit windows with mysterious silhouettes. It was just a huge, black wrong presence. \n\nHer cameraman was finally silent as he panned his equipment over the apparition. Annette looked towards the family, just in time to see them vanish in a wave of sparks. \nThey just seemed to disintegrate, much like some sort of Star Trek transporter. She thought for a fraction of a second that the man smiled directly at her.\n\nThen the foghorn sounded again, and the thing was just gone – the only sign of its passing a momentary updraft of wind.\n\nThe fifth man from the SUV walked up towards Annette. Her cameraman was filming the scene and the reactions of excited townsfolk.\n\n“Journalist Annette? My name is John Smith.”\n\n“What…what just happened?”\n\n“I’ve been authorized to give you an explanation, and answer any questions you have. By order of the Council, you are authorised to disseminate it for publication. Do you accept this bargain?”\n\n“I…ah….sure. Mark! Camera!”\n\nThe picture focused on her and the driver.\n\n“My name is John Smith. I am not human. In fact, I come from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of the star you call Procyon….”\n", "At 4:00pm, in a press conference, President Barack Obama issued a statement. \"Intelligent life forms have been visiting Earth for decades.\" he said. When asked further, the president refused to give any more information. \n\nThat afternoon, Dale Gribble went out to the alley, popped open an Alamo, took a drag of his cigarette, and said \"I told you so.\"" ]	2
	[WP] A depressed man seeking a reason to live tries to complete a list of ten things he's never done.	[ "This is a work in progress still\nI plan to just come back here and tap away a little whenever I wish I had the guts to do something like your prompt. I'm sure it's incredibly rough and most likely does not even make sense AT ALL yet.\n\nJuly 7th, 2014 ~\n\nI've read the books. Jesus, I've read all of the fucking books. I know all of the traits that successful people possess and all of the reason why it's okay to be a wallflower. Yet, I'm still hallow, unambitious, unmotivated and unremarkable. People used to tell me that I had potential that I could do great things and I would be special, what horrible things to say. I never asked to have such lofty expectations worn around my neck -- I'm suffocating.\n\nJuly 8th, 2014 ~\n\nThe other night, maybe Thursday, I sent four texts in a row to Molly. She ignored me. I decided that night that it was time to give up, worse things happen to people than dying all of the time. I hadn't even enjoyed her company a couple of months ago, I thought she was generally unattractive and not really my type. Now I can't stop thinking about her and the way that she can talk to anyone. I can't stop thinking about how we made out drunkenly and told me that no matter what she said when she was sober she actually did love having me around. Why does this always happen to me, why do I fall in love with any women who acknowledges my presence? I guess if I knew why I did what I do, I wouldn't feel so out of control.\n\nJuly 12th, 2014 ~\n\nI read over my last journal entry and decided that it was a pretty silly reason for killing myself. After that I questioned deeper, are there really any good reasons for ending it? I'm sure there are, but I sure as hell couldn't think of any. I mean, once you decide that your life ins't worth living anymore you're giving up everything; when you lose everything you're free to do anything. (I think that's from Fight Club, have I really become that guy who regurgitates mantras that he adopted from a movie about a book he hasn't even read.) I) It makes sense, when you let your crippling anxiety stop you from living your life why wouldn't it also stop your from not living it? God I'm such a spineless scrub.\n\nJuly 12th, 2014 ~\n\nI can't sleep, again. It's like every time I lay my head down all I think about how scared I am of doing anything I love. I want to be an outgoing person who fills his life with things he's gravitated to, I want to be busy and I want to be a warm, confident person. I don't think wanting is enough. In fact, I know it. What else is there, how can I become like those people who know what they want to do?\n\n", "(Sorry about the length, I got sucked in. I even caught myself writing in first person at times.)\n\nIn a self-imposed, faux-catatonic state the man stared blanky at a notepad. He only convinced himself further of the futility of life as the only thing present on the notepad was the number \"1\" and a parenthesis followed by nothing. It had been like that for three hours.\n\nLooking for inspiration he decided to start a web search on places to visit before death. Beautiful beaches, lush jungles, ancient ruins, and the great metropolises of the world all shower his findings. He was surrounded by beauty everyday. Seeing something breathtaking wasn't going to fix anything.\n\nGoing a more basic route, he searched for popular bucket lists.\n\nIf he was a socialite who loved hiking and carpentry, maybe those ideas would have been decent.\n\nModifiers piled onto his search criteria to specify lists targeting like-minded people. Words like depressed, lonely, anxious, suicidal, and desperate were among these.\n\nA strangely titled site had been produced from this exclusive set of preferences.\n\nThe Ultimate Guide to Killing Yourself, it read.\n\n\"That can't be a good sign,\" he said aloud to himself.\n\nIntrigue is a powerful friend and foe. The so-called guide offered a series of actions one should perform before killing themselves. \n\nIt began simply with the shedding of material possessions. If you are wealthy, then makes sure you are worth nothing before you go any further. He wondered what it would be like to be wealthy and suicidal.\n\nMaterial possessions aside, the next step was to find someone from your past who had a significant influence on you without them ever knowing. The stronger the emotion they evoke, the better. An old crush, for instance, would be worthwhile. Alternatively, an old bully would also be acceptable. However, the point was to write a letter to each of those people and explain how they shaped you in a positive way.\n\nA crush might inspire romantic gesture, where a bully might serve as a reminder of how you yourself had chosen not to hurt someone when tempted.\n\nHe stopped reading the guide after this. The idea of confessing his emotions to now complete strangers was crippling to him. He believed that no one, outside his family, had ever thought about him once after they cut ties. He understood the incentive to give these people a flattering letter or a message of forgiveness. The point was too much of a hassle for temporary gratification.\n\nA memory came to him suddenly. He remembered receiving a letter from, David, an old colleague with a similar context. The letter thanked him for driving him to and from work after David received a DUI. He thought nothing of it at the time and had since left the job. He assumed David still worked there.\n\nHe decided to text Bailey, who he knew still worked there, about David.\n\nWhile he waited for a response he stared at the list he was trying to start. Admittedly, he knew he fought with himself for being too stubborn to try new things. People can become deeply settled in their comfort zones, but it's the new experiences that make life worthwhile. Even though this knowledge sat in his brain, it did him no good.\n\nHe began to skim the rest of the Ultimate Guide to see how else it forced emotionally crippled people to magically overcome themselves before they undo themselves. One note of taking on a creative project that symbolized their greatest fears seemed intriguing. It suggested the reader attempt any form of art and manifest their fears into reality. He liked that one.\n\nHis phone buzzed. He picked it up.\n\nBailey responded with a very brief, but telling text.\n\n\"Nobody told you?\" she wrote.\n\nHe didn't feel it necessary to respond, but she followed up anyway.\n\n\"He passed away. I thought Peter would've told you. David was in a bad place, we all knew it. I still feel guilty for not trying to be a better friend. I guess I'm too shy myself.\"\n\nHer words were familiar. Bailey was an exceedingly good person. The kind most decent guys feel unworthy of being with. He felt a twinge of compassion for her guilt at the cost of her shyness.\n\n\"I think most people hide to much. You shouldn't feel guilty.\" He decided to respond out of good manners.\n\nA rather lengthy conversation unfolded late into the night. They share a lot of stories about work, then and now. She mentions, in her words, that she had missed seeing his face. Catching himself completely by surprise, he asks Bailey if she would like to get together sometime and spend some more time catching up in person. This kind of move was not in his normal deck. She shows her approval with a strangely excessive amount of enthusiasm mostly in the form of repeated exclamation marks.\n\nThey text each other good night somewhere around five in the morning. He stares at the phone as if it had just winked at him. After pause and reflection, he grabs the notepad and scribbles for two seconds.\n\nHe slides into his sheets and sighs nervously.\n\nThe notepad read, \"1) try.\"\n\nIt was the sigh of excitement." ]	2
	[WP] You suddenly are able to see a clock counting backwards on everyones forehead. You realize its counting down to each persons own death. You are not able to see yours.	[ "\"Good morning, Ben,\" Timothy groggily greeted him. Mornings were not his favorite time of day. Ben made a quick wave with his left hand.\n\"Yeesh, did you have a bad weekend?\" Timothy asked with concern. Timothy had known Ben since Ben started working at this warehouse. It wasn't that Ben used his non dominate had to wave that concerned him, it was his drastically smaller number today.\n\"Hey man, ya, I laid down my bike on Saturday. This asshole pickup truck decided to pull a full stop on the freeway. I swerved to avoid him and lost control.\" Ben responded holding his right arm gingerly.\n\"Holy shit dude, what did the cops say?\" Timothy asked.\n\"Man, by the time I got to my feet, the asshat was gone. Since I had to fucking skid off the right side of the road, not one fucker even stopped.\" Ben colorfully explained.\n\"So what did you do?\" Timothy was getting nervous. Ben's number was staring to drop faster. \"Do you want to sit down? Let me get you some water.\"\n\"Shit, that's not a bad idea,\" Ben reluctantly agreed, wincing as he let his body weight plop into the chair. Ben shifted in the chair towards his left side, letting out a sigh of relief. As Ben let out the breath, Timothy could see his number slow down. Feeling better about Ben, Timothy walked over to the break room to get Ben some water.\n\nTimothy hated the numbers. It started after he got his job here at the warehouse. He had been working overtime doing picking. Ten hours a day he was looking at aisle, shelf, bin numbers. Then Christmas season hit. The warehouse had him working 14 hour shifts. They were always understaffed. He loved it because of all the overtime he was earning. He was saving up for a nice ring to give his girlfriend.\nIt was after work on the 10th of December when he first saw her number. He had just finished a 14 hour shift, came home to see Rebecca laying in their bed, asleep. Timothy laughed it off and crawled into bed. He thought it was just the warehouse picking numbers playing games with him.\nA week later a number started appearing on more people's heads.\nOn the 18th, Timothy convinced his boss to give him a mental health day. He needed to have a clear day of playing video games to get his mind off the numbers. He set up on the couch, pillow on one side, blanket on the other. He wanted a lot of support for the marathon session of the new zombie game. He was surprised to see that the characters in this shooter game all had numbers too. The game went on, with all of his cohorts numbers getting smaller as they fought through looters get closer to the zombie area. Every time he healed his teammates, he could see their number slow, then increase. He liked this gameplay. As he progressed through the game, it got harder to be save his teammates. He would watch as they hit zero them grotesquely changed into zombies. The weird part for Timothy was seeing their numbers go negative.\nNegative numbers made sense logically, but Timothy didn't understand why the game makers would include it for the player to see. So he pulls out his phone to google, trying to find out what other people thought. He couldn't find a single thread about it. No results on google images either. He posted to /r/gaming, but was down voted to oblivion. His stomach growled.\nLooking through the cupboards in the kitchen, he realized there wasn't much of anything to eat. His brain was still reeling from trying to find out what the numbers meant. Pizza is what he needed. Delivery was how he was going to get it. After ordering, he went to shower to clear his mind. The rain shower head Rebecca had begged him to install was totally worth it. It was so relaxing he had to summon up the energy to get out. Ding-dong.\nAnd that's when he first met Ben.\nTimothy rushed to the door. The doorbell had knocked his stomach out of the relaxed state and nearly gurgled louder than the door bell.\n\"Hey man, you order a pizza?\" Ben asked. Timothy just stared at him.\n\"Shit, are you deaf or something?\" Ben asked again. A smile rose out of one cheek.\n\"HEY DEAF GUY, CAN YOU READ LIPS OR SOMETHING?\" Ben yelled. His amusement was waning as Timothy just kept staring. Ben decided to open the pizza box and force Timothy to smell it. Timothy snapped out of his trance.\n\"Yeah, yeah, sorry, totally just zoned out.\" Timothy stumbled out. \"How old are you?\"\n\"That's a mighty fucking personal question, don't you think?\" An offended Ben asked. \"How about you fucking pay for this pizza and I'll answer your question.\"\n\"Right, right,\" Timothy responded, grabbing his wallet while still staring at Ben. The number, Timothy thought to himself, was going down fast. Just like in the video game. He paid Ben then did the awkward shuffle of taking the pizza and soda from him. He was nearly back to his jalopy when Timothy yelled at him, asking for his age.\nBen stopped in his tracks. He didn't have any more pizzas to deliver, and this guy had tipped him the whole cost of the pizza.\n\"Twenty seven.\" Ben hollered back.\n\"Do you want some pizza?\" Timothy asked. Ben was reluctant.\nTimothy could see Ben's number slowing from full blur. He tested his theory again.\n\"Come on, it's just me here, and I don't want to eat this whole thing myself. My name's Timothy.\"\nBen stared at the freshly showered guy. What did he have to lose, he thought to himself. He held up a finger telling Timothy to wait. Ben flipped open his taped together phone and texted the manager saying he was taking a lunch break. He was pretty sure he could overpower this Timothy if he tried anything weird. Wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to him in his life.\nTimothy nearly squealed when he saw Ben close his phone. The numbers had slowed more!\nHours later, they had finished the pizza and were starting to form a new friendship. Timothy learned how much Ben hated his job, but how it was all he could find after dropping out of high school. Then it clicked in Timothy's brain.\n\"Do you want a job at my warehouse?\"\n\"What? Naw, I couldn't do that. That shit takes brains.\" Ben dismissed.\n\"Seriously! We are in need of a ton of help. I'm working crazy hours, and it know the boss would hire you if I vouched for you.\" Timothy exclaimed. Ben stared at him. Timothy was shocked at how slow the numbers changed now. He knew he was on the right path.\n\nThe next day Timothy took Ben to the warehouse manager for the interview. Ben came out of the office all sullen looking. His number was a blur again. Timothy was confused.\n\"What happened!?\" Timothy asked.\n\"Well...\" Ben slowly responded. His frown was slowly changing expressions. \"...I...uh...got...to...figure out how to how to...-\"\n \"To what?\" Timothy interrupted. He was dedicated to helping Ben now. \"I'll go in there and quit if that's what it takes to get you hired.\"\nBen chuckled, \"I have to figure out how to take my stupid car sign back to the pizza place!\"\nTimothy was relieved. That's when he realized Ben's number was blurry because it was going up, not down.\n\nTimothy grabbed the paper cup and filled it with water from the water cooler. This wasn't the first time that he had seen Ben's number drop after a weekend. Ben certainly liked to \"live life to the fullest\" now that he had a job he liked and that paid well. But this was different. His number was dropping again.\nTimothy brought the water back to Ben, who was clearly in pain. Timothy asked, \"What did the doctors say?\"\n\"Shit, those doctors would take one look at me and rip my organs out and sell them.\" Ben gruffly responded.\n\"That's not true. You know you have insurance through the warehouse right?\" Timothy explained. He was flabbergasted at Ben's response. \"Why would you think that?\"\n\"Because I ride a motorcycle, duh.\"\n\"Let me take you.\"\n\"I don't date dudes.\"\n\"You know what I mean. It's March, there isn't much to do here.\" Timothy pleaded. He left Ben to find his manager to explain so they could leave. The manager agreed hastily to get Ben to the hospital. He just wanted to make sure there would be no workman's comp claim. Timothy assured him there wouldn't then drove Ben to the hospital.\nThe doctors found three fractured ribs, a broken wrist, and some internal bleeding. Timothy wasn't allowed to watch while they were doing the surgery. He could only focus on Ben's number while he waited. It had slowed since the doctors found out what was wrong, but was lower than anyone's he had seen in a long time. Timothy found his mind wondering through all the low numbers. He tried to not look at the other people waiting in the emergency room. He sat with his face in his hands. So many people, so many numbers changing. Some rapidly, some slowly.\n\"Hey there stranger,\" a voice came through his racing mind. Timothy looked up to see more numbers.\n\"Hey!\" He greeted the stranger back. \"What are you doing here? Did my boss tell you?\" He asked as he realized Rebecca was standing in front of him.\n\"Ya, he called me to let me know you were coming here...but I think he was also checking up to see if you were really coming here.\" She responded. She was about to go on when the surgeon came up.\nHis cap was in his hands, his face furrowed. He started with \"I'm sorry\" and Timothy lost it. He couldn't believe his friend was dead. The low numbers. He realized the last time his saw them that low was in his video game. He hated himself for not taking Ben sooner. He hugged Rebecca and wiped up his tears as the surgeon gave his final condolences. Ben thanked the surgeon for his work and shook his hand.\n\"Do you want to go home?\" Rebecca asked.\n\"Ya, let's go.\" Timothy sniffed through his swollen eyes and throat. Rebecca took his hand and lead him out through the ER automatic doors. She was too good to him, he thought. As they stepped outside, the sun's glare made his eyes squint. He looked at Rebecca confusingly.\n\"Are you sure you're okay?\" She worriedly asked again.\nTimothy fell to his knees, looked her over again, then smiled proud.\n\t\nRebecca had two numbers.\n\nedit: new guy formatting problems.", "They came in flashes at first. A blink of red out of the corner of your eye. As you grew older, they stayed for longer. You realised that they were numbers, like the ones on old calculators and alarm clocks. At first you thought it was the time, that this was some stupid, fancy new watch. But they were all different and kept counting down. Most of the time the numbers were huge, in the millions, even billions. \n\nBut last year, you saw 4. So you followed, watching the number stay the same for about a minute before it flashed to 3. You were surprised, it was the first time you had directly watched the number change. Then a car came barreling down the road and she was hit. You ran to help, but your legs weren't fast enough. You watched the windshield splinter, and the car veer sideways. You heard the screech of tyres blend with her scream. You felt her bones break and smelt blood and burnt rubber. You watched the number flash to 1. Then :59. \n\nAnd you knew. You finally understood what the number were and you ran the other way. \n\nYou see them on everyone now, even on animals. And it dries your throat and weighs down your stomach. You can't stand hospitals, shopping centres and parks. You had to quit your job, but you make a living off betting when people die. \n\nEvery morning you wake up and you don't know whether to cheer or to smash the mirror. You do neither and watch movies with dead actors instead. ", "Do I want to know? I stood on the front steps as I slowly considered my options, pacing back and forth. Creating a path as the freshly fallen snow collected to either side of the path. I told myself no matter what it said that I would not let her know her fate. I had passed strangers all day as their clock counted down. Years, months, days. They say ignorance is bliss.\n\nThe cold brass brought me back into the moment as I turned the knob slowly as to not wake her. The weather had second thoughts as the ghostly winds blew past me and echoed through the still unfamiliar house. It had an eerie feel to it but it was a new start. The old house reminded both of us too much of the memories of my wife... her mom. \n\n\"Daddy....\" timidly she calls from the top of the staircase. \"I couldn't sleep... the wind is scary.\" She takes a step forward and my stomach drops. Ok. Don't scare her. She is young now but every day she looks more like her mother. I start to think of all the plans her mother had and how much easier this would be with her here. On what high school she is going to go to, her college, first boyfriends and first heart breaks. imagining the speech you already had planned for the first boy she brings home, how you would be sitting in the chair next to the... It all fades away.\n\n I hold back tears, I cant let her see. I turn to face the door I just came through. My stomach dropped. Even lower than when the doctor told me my high school sweet heart's cancer had progressed too far for surgery. Lower than when I had to explain why mommy couldn't talk. This new pain. When I saw her forehead. As she ticked down.. from 15 minutes. \n\nI told her we were going to go for a ride. She reached for her coat, and to put on her boots. She looked at me with a look of concern and confusion as I stopped her before she put on either. I carried her outside. Into the snow and wind I trudged to the car. I put her in her car seat giving her a kiss on the forehead, I couldn't bear to tell her we were going to the hospital. Every time we drive past I still see her head drop and a tear form in the corner of her eye. But if she has any chance, it is there. I reached into the front, starting the car to keep her warm. I run to grab a shovel to uncover the car, buried in the snow, the strongest storm in years. Covering up to the trunk and past the exhaust. \n\nI look at my watch. Shes out of time. I decide the most important thing is to be with her. I open the door and sit next to her shutting the door behind me. She closes her eyes as I feel her cheek but all I feel is cold. I can't tell whether it is her skin or my cold hands. I do not know what I could have done to save her. Maybe it was her time. Everyone has a time. And as I look up I see in the rear view mirror my own counting down the final seconds. I hold her hand and cry, but tears of joy, knowing that maybe we can finally all be together. Somewhere sunny.\n\n\nBREAKING NEWS: Father and Daughter killed in car due to carbon monoxide poisoning. " ]	3
	[WP] You wake up the day after having literally lived the best day of your life. Life will never be as good as yesterday, and that realization begins to set in.	[ "I didn't realize when I opened my eyes that the colours weren't the same. \nThe purple dyes splashed across the walls, the crisp baby blues of finger painted canvases hung proudly for all to see. I didn't even realize they were different. At first.\nMy eyes didn't seem to want to stay open. In the back of my mind I thought, 'after yesterday, it's a miracle I got up at all.' \nThat was all it took to get the memories rolling. My mind was the cinema, and the high-pitched screams of delight were in surround sound. \nMy body went through the motions, brushing teeth, pouring cereal, but my heart wasn't in it. My heart was stuck 16 hours in the past. \nI wondered vaguely what I had picked for breakfast this morning, already forgotten as a backdrop to my replay of the water-park. \nMoving to get milk, because that's what my body was trained to do, I hardly registered the pain that shot up my leg from stepping on a mouse trap. I had forgotten it was there, and look at that, I had forgotten to put socks on.\nI didn't forget yesterday. I didn't get hurt yesterday.\nI ate my cereal, bland and tasteless, and thought more about how good, how spectacular the day before was. \n'Wow, the 'Twister' was awesome, oh, and then when Jimmy-' \nI stopped thinking about it suddenly, my spoon scraped against the empty bottom of my bowl. I was done, a scattered handful of Lucky Charms laying dry on the tabletop. \nI hadn't spilled yesterday. \nI Pushed up out of my seat, and figured that It would be time to get ready for work by now. I took a few lazy, unmotivated steps back towards my room before stopping dead. \nThere was a note pinned on the fridge, hanging precariously off of the edge of a magnet. It fluttered slightly in the breeze let in by an open window, and I watched it tumble to the ground. I needed only a cursory glance at the writing scrawled hastily across it to see that it was Maria's writing. I needed more than that to absorb what was actually being spoken.\nMaria didn't leave me yesterday.\nMy hands shaky, barely able to grip the note, I listened for the soft thuds of tiny footsteps, of Dani and Ellis waiting for me to make them breakfast.\n\"Daddy, Daddy! Pancakes!\" Thier little voices rang around the kitchen, echoing too loud. I didn't care. I was thier Daddy, it was my job not to care. \nWait. That was yesterday. Now, there was only silence. \nI still had my children yesterday.\nMy life was together yesterday.\nYesterday was the best day of my life.\nBut it was yesterday for a reason.", "A moment: 6:42 P.M., on the 18th, it was a Thursday. The weather, when mentioned, was recanted as miserable and dry…understandably so for a July in the south. I lay calm and collected blanketed in warmth other than the heat of the day. There was a glow of sunlight beginning to dusk on the west wall of my room. Nearly motionless in my content, I never realized there was not a day before this that I could have expected the world and received it. I never realized there was a moment when everyone you ever knew came to a stop to congratulate your accomplishment. I would never realize the single biggest accomplishment of my life was the precursor to all my failures, my losses, my regrets. For that afternoon was the best day of my life.\n\nThe following day came much too early for myself and those around me. Ushered in prematurely, the morning was brought to a halt by my realization I was lost. The countless joys of the previous day were eclipsed by the moonlight and the darkness of the remaining night. Rightfully so, the early hours rarely usher in hopes and dreams and are instead reserved for commitment, responsibility, and tragedy. I learned in only a matter of minutes those feelings I had the day before were but only for a day. The idea of love and acceptance from so many had departed as they had previously the day before. The gift which was given to me was unfathomable…that which was taken away is the rest of my life.\n\nFor a brief moment I am able to reconcile with small victories that I may attain in my never certain future. I may laugh, love, and live as if I was none the wiser. There are moments that I may perceive as better than yesterday—but, in reality, they can never live up to my previous success. Butchered by reality, I have passed into existence and as such my life will be shorter and filled with desires to return after every passing day.\n\n6:42 P.M., on the 18th, a Thursday, it was the day of my birth.\n" ]	2
	[WP] Write about 'Dead Anonymous', an alcoholic anonymous-eque support group but for people who have died/are dead and have trouble coming to terms with it.	[ "\"I don't know what's wrong with me.\" Tony took a swig of his beer, as the rest of them looked on in sympathy and disgust. A puddle of alcohol was forming underneath his chair. \"I mean, I just look at her all day and night and can't do anything about it. I just want to touch her. To let her know I'm here... To tell her it'll be alri-\" he began to sob. A big heaving mess, that left mucus on his white, two-sizes too big, tank top. The others around him tried to console him; patting him on the shoulder and rubbing his back. Of course, he couldn't feel a thing. \n\n\"Right, well thank for that Tony.\" Claire pushed up her tortoise horn rimmed-glasses and licked her cracked lips out of habits. She looked down her clipboard and made a note next to Tony. \"Right, David, how have you been?\" \n\n\"Good. Yeah. Real good. I've moved back into my apartment and started cleaning up the place. It's been hard and slow, but I feel like I'm making progress.\"\n\n\"Riiight. David, you understand you don't need that apartment anymore.\"\n\n\"Yeah I know, but it's weird wandering about town. I feel so lost. I like having a home. Keeps me grounded, you know?\" Several other members of the group nodded their heads in agreement. \n\n\"Of course I understand.\" She didn't. Claire knew she had died the instant that train hit her. \"So, how are you going with tying up your loose ends? You been here now for 3 months.\"\n\n\"Yeah I know. I, uh, don't really know what else I need to do. Repaid all my debts, helped out a homeless guy, upvoted some things on Reddit, topped up some parking meters...\"\n\n\"Have you said goodbye?\"\n\nThere was a pause. \"No.\" he whispered and tears started to well in David's ice blue eyes. \n\n\"Johnny! How are you going my dear?\"\n\n\"Good thank you ma'am. Yourself?\"\n\n\"That's good. Good. So, have you made any progress with Caitlin?\"\n\n\"A little. Said goodbye to her family. Told them I was sorry for fooling around with their little girl. Told them that I was dead, so I could no longer hurt them.\"\n\n\"Excellent Johnny. That's excellent progress. And Caitlin?\"\n\n\"Well ma'am. I was kinda busy the rest of the week...\"\nClaire sighed. \"Perhaps next week Johnny.\"\n\nClaire made another note on her clipboard and looked around the circle; it was so big, she almost forgot that it was a circle. Some sat alone and cried, others chatted with one another and some vanished. She would smile when their name disappeared off the list. But then other names would appear. \n\n\"So Carol, how are you?\"", "\"Max? Max! Are you alright?\" \nI zoned out again. God dammit.... I shouldn't say that in these parts. Fuck. I need to say something. I can't. I'm dead. What am I supposed to do? Fuck. He's calling my name again. um. Let's see.... \n\"I'm just feeling overwhelmed. I can't do this anymore.\" phew that works. \n\"Max, you have been dead for 5 years now. You have to move on. Accept your fate. One who does not accept his fate will be conflicted forever....\" \nWhen does this man ever shut up? I can't take it anymore. I had a wife. I had two children. I was so close to that promotion and then BAM! That stupid drunk hit me. It's all his fault. It's not supposed to be like this. I deserve better. No, I am BETTER than this. This old fool takes me for the melancholic type. I'm not like that. I'm livid. Dying before my time is not sad. It's horrible. It makes me angry. And now the \"Deceased Management\" thinks they can MAKE ME go here? Well, fuck them! \n\"Max! Max!\" My left shoulder was prodded by a deceased Vietnamese man. He was also unable to cope with death. \nOh fuck! I need to say something. I can't think of anything again. I hope a new recruit comes in. I really hope someone comes....\n\"Well, seeing as Max is having one of his moments let's continue without him... Oh, hello! Who may you be, my dear?\" \n\"Ca--ca -ca\" \n\"Speak, my love. We're all friends here.\" \n\"Ca-Cassandra\" \n\"Nice to meet you. My name is Hans Schmit, leader of \"Deceased-Denial Anonymous. Have a seat.\" \nThank God someone new! \n\"Hi, I'm Cassandra. And I have a problem. Am I really dead?\" \nThe whole group chimed in with an encouraging \"Hi Cassandra.\" \nWait, I recognize this woman. Oh my God. No. It can't be. She isn't MY Cassandra? No way. Oh fuck she has the scar on her face too. I can't do this anymore...\n\"Max! Where are you going?\" \n\"To Hell with you!\" \nThe director gasped. And Max disappeared with a flash of light. \n", "Reaper Sam gave a nervous glance at the clock as he walked into the room before hurriedly placing his scythe in the umbrella stand at the door. \n\n\"Sorry I'm late, guys. Traffic was horrible!” Sam said, putting a sing-song accent on the last word. “Some protest was happening on the street right outside my apartment and closed the road. Inter-entity marriage or something like that.\" \n \nI closed the deddit app on my phone and looked up towards Sam, \"I'm really hope Heaven passes the bill. I mean, why should the government control what people do in their own graves?\"\n\n\"You’re absolutely right, Dom.” Sam replied. \"It's their own death, and as long as it's not hurting anyone else, I don't see why they can't.\"\n\nSam performed a quick headcount of everyone already in the room. Seven waiting patiently (including me) in the circle, eleven getting some biscuits by the refreshments table and one who went for a leak a few minutes ago. \n\n\"Where's Logan and Charlie?\" he asked, loosening his hood and revealing his large, green eyes, silver hair and a chiselled complexion. I wonder if he's single... I wouldn't mind being buried with him, if you know what I mean.\n\nA youngster two seats to my left piped up. \"Charlie went to the toilet, and Logan's not here yet,\" Michelle said, nonchalantly swinging her legs under her chair.\n\nJacky sat down on one of the chairs in the circle, her mouth full of one of those shitty budget-brand biscuits that Purgatory Support and Counselling always got. I try to eat before going to the PSC tutorials because the food here's so mediocre. I mostly just come for the coffee and Sam.\n\nSam sat down in the chair opposite me and beckoned for the others standing at the food table to grab a seat. \"If there aren't enough chairs just help yourself to one in one of the stacks by the wall.\"\n\n\"Hey, can we start without Logan?\" Mike asked, perfectly slouched and arms folded (well, arm - he lost it thanks to my careless driving during life). \"We waited 15 minutes the last two tutorials and he didn't show up to either of them. And let's be honest, he's probably not gonna come again.\"\n\n\"Fair point,\" the cute Reaper nodded. \"Before we start the tutorial, who wants to start off on our weekly update?\"\n\nMichelle stuck her hand up enthusiastically. \"Me! Pick me!\" she said. \"I've got a good one!\"\n\n“Go right ahead, honey!” He replied in his soft voice.\n\nMichelle dropped her hand and started talking, her eyes animated. \"Okay. So you guys know how I was in the car accident with my dad? I was pretty sad, because I died and he didn't. And you guys know how he was in the hospital and everything and died for a bit and visited me here? Yeah, well, he died in another surgery so that means he’s good and so he's coming here to stay! I know I shouldn't be happy because now he's gonna miss Jade, but to be honest,” Michelle brought her voice down to a whisper, “I never really liked Jade.”\n\nThe 10-year-old finished up her fast-paced speech with a couple of faux-exasperated deep breaths, which had a few of us laughing. \n\n“That sounds great!” Sam exclaimed. “Do you know when you get to see him?”\n\n“Hopefully today, I think. I’m so excited!” Michelle started bouncing in her chair. “Dom, do you wanna go next?” I think she picked me because we were both in car accidents - Mike, herself and I have this special bond.\n\n“Sure, Shell. Thanks.” I sat up and cleared my throat a bit before beginning. “I’m just apologising in advance because my update is definitely not going to beat that. So I finally got a job down at the mall a few blocks down, the job really suits me, too.”\n\n\n\nMike groaned, “Do not say that was a pun. Please don’t tell me you got the job at that men’s clothing store.”\n\nI smiled, “I won’t tell you then. I’ll just heavily imply it.”\n\nMike buried his face in his hands, “Dom, there are times like this where I wish you stayed down there.” I could tell he was trying to hide a growing smile though. He loves my stupid humour. \n\n“You only have yourself and your horrid driving to blame,” I laughed. “You wanna go next?”\n\nAnd the updates went on. Mike had a date, Sam might be getting promoted to Grim Reaper, Charlie scored her first acting role on a daytime soap, Jacky and her husband are moving to south to Hell once they both finish counselling, and so on. I zoned out after the sixth or seventh person started talking; my attention span’s not that long.\n\nAhh well, only four more compulsory tutorials and I can get on with my afterlife.\n\n\n\n\n", "\"Look, I can't be the only one and like.. I know what's going on with me but I just can't shake the urge to poop.\" Bill explained to the circle around him, many indicating their agreement with a simple nod or quiet murmur. \n\n\"Uh, yes Bill, adjusting can be hard and I'm sure that you'll shake that feeling in no time.\" Denise, the host of the support group assured him, \"Who's next? Madison?\" \n\n\"It fuckin' sucks.\" The teenager began, spitting her long azure hair out of her face before continuing, \"My boyfriend Tommy is a wreck and I'm not gonna lie, I'm hoping he off's himself like the bloomin' coward he is. Maybe then we can be together again and things'll be normal like before, yeah?\"\n\n\"Now Madison,\" Denise sighed, \"The last thing we need is another addition to the group, you should be hoping that he'll be able to move on and not make the same mistake you did.\" She explained as she eyed each and every face in the circle, their numbers had swollen to 30 ever since the introduction of a deadly new party drug. \n\n\"Geez Miss, you sound just like me Mum.\" Madison said groaning at the thought. \n\n\"Well your Mother was a smart woman, but you have bigger issues, all of you do.\" Denise sighed, \"If you want to cross over you're going to need to.. Tie up loose ends..\" \n\n\"You mean like haunting Tommy until he off's himself?\" Madison interjected.\n\n\"No! No!\" Denise screamed frantically as the murmurs produced by Madison's outburst died down, \"Look, it's different for everybody. Some people visit locations, some visit their families or loved ones and some.. Some don't know what to do and can never cross over..\" Denise sighed.\n\n\"Like you Miss?\" Madison asked.\n\n\"I stay here for other reasons, Madison.\" Denise said as she made eye contact with a middle aged man across from her in the circle, they exchanged a solemn nod. \n\n* * *\n\nLater that day Denise found herself strolling through the graveyard up the road from the community center where the \"DA\" Meetings were hosted, she eventually came to a small gravestone and knelt down. Denise inspected the bouquet of roses that she cradled in her hand searching for any imperfections before laying them before the grave. \n\n\"You know you don't have to do this all the time, Denise.\" A mans voice came from behind her, she didn't turn.\n\n\"I know, it's just.. I miss you.\" Denise said as a single tear made its way down her cheek, she gently caressed the stone work which read. \n\n \"Greg Scott\"\n\"Taken too soon from beloved wife Denise Scott.\"\n 1982 - 2014\n\n(Long time lurker, first time poster. Sorry for the terribly cliched story!)", "\nA pleasingly plump woman with a practical haircut tittered over to the stage. While at first the crowd assumed she was nervous, as they all were that dreaded first time, Betty Mason seemed more steadfast than she had any right to be.\n\n‘Hello, my name is Betty and I’m… Well, I don’t see how you people are right, because I’m still here talking, so obviously I’m not dead.’\n\n‘Betty…’ urged a strong voice, betraying a hint of irritation. \n\nShe rolled her eyes. ‘Oh all right. I’m Betty and I’m dead.’ \n\nThe voices rose in a chorus to chant the familiar words ‘Hello Betty,’ but before they could get through the second syllable, they found themselves interrupted. \n\n‘But you all know that we’re not really dead, don’t you. After all, we’re all here. I think the more plausible explanation is that we somehow made it to an alternate reality or universe or something.’\n\n‘Betty for Christ’s sake.’ The voice rang out again, this time noticeably flustered.\n\n‘No. I’m serious.’ she planted both hands on her plump hips in indignation. ‘If we are really dead then we have to assume that death is not what we ever thought it was, and then, what’s the difference, really?’\n\nThe crowd snorted and shouted in derision, like an audience at a Rocky Horror showing. It didn’t bother Betty. She finally had a platform, a soap box of her own.\n\n‘This is certainly not heaven nor hell,’ she continued. ‘Or is heaven supposed to be a dreary room in a dreary town?’ \n\n‘Hell is listening to you, granny!’ \n\nThe crowd laughed. Betty, however, remained calm and slowly turned around to face the heckler.\n\n‘Hellooo?’ She sang. ‘Who is it, please?’\n\n‘It’s the living dead!’\n\nThis caused an uproar in the crowd. Yet Betty was not thrown: in fact, she seemed more determined than ever, folding her arms in a precise, calculated movement. ‘Well, my dear sir, why don’t you come over here so we can talk face to face like the zombies we are?’\n\nThe crowd- an unruly lot, though that can be expected of those that have recently discovered that they’re dead- oohed and aahed as the perpetrator made his way forward.\n\nHe was a skinny little chap, barely sixteen, wisps of hair gracing his chin and cheeks. They were intended to make him seem masculine, Betty supposed, but all it did was draw attention to his rampant acne. Sluggishly he came to a stop in front of the podium.\n\n‘Hurry up now dear.’ She tapped her foot.\n\n‘Now,’ she waggled a finger at him. ‘You are saying that we are dead.’ \nThe boy nodded.\n‘So dead, in fact, that I am an insane person for believing otherwise.’ \nThe boy nodded, slightly more apprehensively this time. Perhaps he sensed that Betty was more than a little unhinged.\n\nBetty looked at him for a second, then gave a smile so disarming she might well have been a Disney princess. ‘Well, in that case my darling,’ she smiled at him, ‘This won’t matter much, will it.’\n\nWithin a split second she had drawn a gun and shot the scraggly boy in the face. He fell down with a crunch and lay there, a puddle of blood making its way over the podium.\n\n‘Well.’ Betty stated, her smile still strong, ‘I guess that solves that.’\n" ]	5
	[WP] You hit the nightclub with your friends, and one of them slips you a pill unknowingly. However the effects of the pill are like no other drug...	[ "My head was like a dull weight. Cold, wet. I'm sprawled out on tile, what a fucking night. And... and I don't remember a single bit of it. I sigh, attempting to see the blur. Reaching for my hood, I realize that this, too is completely wet.\n\nI seem to sitting on the floor of a pretty large shower. Using a railing as a support, I make my way out, my head reeling and my body aching. Scratches, all up and down my arms. Where the hell did these come from? Something in the air didn't smell right.\n\nTry to concentrate on what happened... I went to a club (god knows where) with Serena and... there was a lot of color, so loud, so... A drink. Someone gave me a drink. Horrified, I quicken my pace, trying to get out of this house as soon as possible. \n\nI just want to get out of here. Outside of the shower is a huge bedroom, like one of those fucking stock photos you see on real-estate websites. A massive tiger skin draped the mahogany floors, paintings surreal and modern, on a platform was the bed. Under those fancy red covers was a large lump.\n\nI swallow hard. But something's strange. Against all of my instincts, I move towards it. The stench was growing more unbearable, and I finally pull the covers away, prepared to run. It... merely looks like a mass of flesh at this point. My stomach goes cold, no, everything inside me becomes like ice.\n\nThe comforter wasn't red. It was blood, and my stupid eyes thought it was satin. I'm close to passing out, but I vomit instead. No no no I'm not capable of something like this. I would never kill anyone... This isn't who I am, I'm a history major and a theater geek, not some violent psychopath. \n\nBut I see something else, near the foot of the bed. A strange cellphone, one of those old-fashioned ones. There's nothing on it but one text.\n\nhe isn't play fare anymore just punish him, everythings in place we can do it we get away", "\"So the moth says because the light was on\" \n\nThe entire bar burst into a single fit of laughter. \n\n\"Geez that guy is fuuuuunnnnnny\" a guy at the bar said to Jim. \"Ya, he's a hoot alright\". Jim turned back to his drink. At this point he was the only one at the bar, every other person was crowding around Jim's worst friend Randy. And Randy was on a roll.\n\n\"So the hippo says 'I just can't get my head around Tuesdays!\" and again, the whole room laughs.\n\nJim looks up from his drink and signals to the bartender that he wants another.\n\n\"Hey man, is that guy hilarious or what?\" the bartender says to Jim.\n\n\"Or what\" says Jim \"What?\" says the bartender \"Ya, he's hilarious all right\" says Jim.\n\n\"You don't seem to be enjoying yourself bud. I haven't laughed this much in my entire life, Hell, everyone in here is laughing their asses off. But you're just sitting there with a scowl. You got a bug up your ass or what?\" the bartender asked.\n\n\"Look, I've known this guy since the fourth grade. He's a dick. A real asshole. I can't stand to be around him, but he's my boss and he keeps making me take him out. So I slipped him this roofie or at least I think it was a roofie. I figured I'd fuck with his head a little bit, make him lay off wanting to go out with me. But instead of making him a raging idiot, the pill seems to have made him outrageously funny. Just my luck. So not only am I going to have to keep taking this guy out, I'm going to have to keep slipping him pills\". By now the bartender had delivered the drink and wandered off to listen to Randy.\n\n\"What do I call it?\" Randy yelled, \"The Aristocrats!\"\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] NSFW There are only two unbreakable rules in the Time Corps: if you meet yourself traveling through time, don't kill yourself and don't sleep with yourself. Agent Samantha Hill is about to break one of those rules.	[ "I'm so close.\n\nSo close to putting everything right.\n\nFrom the moment it happened, I knew nothing would ever be the same. Sneaking around the Continuum. Covert meetings, back alley deals. A lifetime of bad deeds. And all for what?\n\nI knew it was coming. I knew she would be there. I had to be there. There was a witness that needed to be silenced, at that moment.\n\nI put two rounds into the back of his head, and heard her behind me. I started laughing, with my back still to her. I had done it.\n\nIn the Academy, one of the very first things they teach you about are paradoxes. A paradox is like a vacuum chamber in spacetime. A black hole from which nothing can escape. But the universe around it is safe. I needed to complete the loop, and tie it in a bow. A few moments from now, she will realize that nothing will ever be the same. She will do as I have done, and end up where I am.\n\nTo save the integrity of the universe, I had to close the paradox.\n\nI quickly stood up, turning my gun on her. She fired one shot, and everything went dark.", "\"You're wrong!\" she yelled. The cold hard steel pressed against my forehead like a bad headache. \"You're wrong and you're a liar. Time travel does't exist.\"\n\n\"Oh but it will.\" A sweat started to form and I felt a cool wet bead slide down to my brow. \"It will be invented in one year by Erica Thomas but it will be a well kept secret. The government will begin a top secret corps designed to go back in time and stop crimes before they happen two years after that and three years later your policing work will be recognised by that very corps and they'll ask you to join them.\"\n\nShe kept looking at me, I kept looking at me, and then she took a step back and cocked the gun. The metallic click echoed in around the barren walls of my old, small-wage apartment. I hated this, why had I thought this would work. \n\n\"Why did you come to my apartment?\" Her voice was demanding, it was clear she was not believing my story. Surely she must have recognised that I bore remarkable resemblance to her? That was probably why I hadn't been tossed outside from my third floor window yet like I did to the poor bastard who had once tried to rob me when I was young. This was the part I was dreading. I didn't know how my younger self would respond to this anymore than I knew how my commanding sergeant would respond to my less than satisfactory answers every time he asked me why I had made any of my mistakes. I swallowed. Then I spoke.\n\n\"I wanted to have sex with you.\" The words left my mouth like a mouse, unsure of it's direction in a maze. She looked at me perplexed. \n\n\"Now why the fuck -\"\n\n\"Sam dammit! I am you.\" She still didn't believe me. \"I know you're- I'm gay. You still haven't told anyone and you never will. At least not for a long time from now.\" Now her eyes were opened wider and her stare was threatening. Her hands held less confidence but she still didn't believe me. I always was skeptical.\n\n\"How do you know this?\" Her words were weak and her voice had lost it's authority. There was a fear there, a fear I knew I hadn't felt in a long time. \n\nI didn't answer, she knew, she just didn't believe me. \"You never told anyone because you thought you would get kicked off the force if anyone found out. All these years of just wishing you had someone to cuddle up to, someone to hold, someone who could understand you but you've had to be alone and let me tell you that doesn't change.\" I wasn't gaining her trust but I had to keep going. \"I was so fucking depressed, all I wanted was someone. I came here to hold you, to tell you it's alright. I came here so you could spend one night with someone who understands you. One night where your wish comes true, a memory to hold on to for the next seven years. Sam, let's do it. Do this for us, for me- for yourself. I need this.\"\n\nHer hands began shaking, there were tears rolling down her face. \"No,\" she shook her head slowly \"I don't know how you know all this, I don't know what other convoluted stories you made up or how much else you know about me but this isn't real.\" Oh shit \"And I can't let you live with my secret.\"\n\nAnd just like that it happened. She leant forward, took aim with her gun and she fired. The bang deafened her ears, my body slumped to floor as the bullet pierced my head like a bad dream and that was it. \nIt was over." ]	2
	[WP] You have court-side seats at an NBA game. During the match deciding shot, time freezes around you and you are the only thing in the arena moving.	[ "Jack couldn't believe it. Somehow, he'd manage to get tickets for Game 7 of the 2015 Finals. His hometown Cavs were battling the Spurs in what everyone thought might be Tim Duncan's last game. Somehow he'd gotten the biggest ticket of his life for only $50 on StubHub, and it was bottom-deck. It was as if he was supposed to be there.\n\n\nThe game was a battle all night long. Kawhi played LeBron to a standstill. Kyrie and Tony Parker each had 35 on the board. But the story of the night was Old Man Timmy. He had torn his shoulder labrum in Game 2 but refused to take any time off, battling his way back, fighting through the pain, and somehow had 30 points and 17 rebounds as the game hit the final seconds.\n\n\nAfter a Duncan jumper goes in, San Antonio is up 101-100 with .9 seconds left on the clock. Dion Waiters gets the ball from the red, throws the inbound pass to LeBron...\n\n\nAnd time stops. Jack looks around, but nothing is moving. The ball is in mid-motion, frozen in the air, anticipating something that no-one could comprehend. Jack slowly stood up, and walked down to the court. No-one stopped him, and soon he was at center-court by himself. He ran three laps around. Nothing. He tried to grab the ball to shoot some baskets, and enjoy the opportunity. But when he touched the ball, his hand burned as if the ball were made of molten iron. He recoiled in horror, then tried again. Same result.\n\n\nTime dragged on as Jack stared at the ball, but no-one else was moving. He knew that the ball had something to do with this, but no clue what it meant. He stepped back and looked at the trajectory of the ball. The pass was going to go a little low. He thought he could maybe touch the ball long enough to change its path, but little more. He could shove it higher to give LeBron a better shot. Or he could reward Timmy for his last great game and let the man go out on top.\n\n\nInstantly regretting it, Jack shoved the ball to the left and returned to his seat. Right as he sat down, the world unfroze as if nothing had happened. The ball sailed past LeBron and into the shocked hands of Timmy. Spurs win. The whole stadium groans as if shot.\n\n\nTwo days later, Tim Duncan tearily announces his retirement with a surprisingly emotional speech about how truly thankful he was for the opportunity. The Cavs win the championship over the Clippers in 6 games the next year, and Jack finally forgives himself.\n\n\nThree years after that, Jack takes his son to a basketball camp in San Antonio. Jason had sprouted up his junior year and grew 8 inches to 6'9\". As they walked into the camp, he saw Tim Duncan standing at the gate. They locked eyes, and Tim began to smile. He pulled Jack aside.\n\n\n\"You're not crazy. And I know what you did.\" Tim was still smiling. \"I owe you one. Let's teach your kid some fundamentals, eh?\"\n\n\nJack laughed a little to himself. Seems like nice guys don't always finish last, he thought. He clapped Timmy on the back, and took his seat in the stands. Bottom deck, just like before.", "“That’s right Ken! You’ve won 2 tickets to watch our Chicago Bulls take on the Dallas Mavericks in Game 7 of the NBA FINALS!! CONGRATULATIONS! HOW DO YOU FEEL??” It’s all still a blur to me how I was selected for the tickets. My local classic rock station gives out tickets to big events every year, but to win tickets for the finals? Crazy. I took my buddy from high school who is probably the biggest Bulls fan you’ll ever meet. When I told him to get a flight to Chicago and to meet me at the United Center, he cried. Anyway, after we met up in front of the Jordan Statue, we went over to the box office. Picked up our tickets, and went to the seats. My god, these were amazing seats. Then an employee of the Bulls walked over. “Excuse me, you’re Ken Anderson, the contest winner, right? The classic rock station ticket giveaway?” “Yes, that’s me, happy to be here”, I said. Then out come two bags full of Bulls stuff for my buddy and me. Jerseys, t-shirts, a nice hat, and an autographed ball from the whole team! We thank the employee profusely and the game fires up. It’s a fantastic game. The Mavericks fought back from a certain sweep, and had made it to Game 7. The Bulls defense was on point tonight. Haven’t seen them play this hard since ’96, when Jordan and the crew were dominating. But, with just 18 seconds left in the 4th, the Mavs bought it back to within a 3-point shot to tie it. The clock started after an inbound pass, the ball gets handed to Dirk Nowitzki. I think, “Great, there goes our 7th title.” Nowitzki in typical fashion drains the clutch three pointer to tie the game at 99 with just 9.7 seconds left in the 4th. Suddenly, everything just stopped. I mean, literally stopped. Time suddenly just…froze in front of me. I was the only one moving in the whole United Center. I got up to see if anyone else was moving. Nobody was. It was creepy. I managed to run onto the court and check it out, got a nice picture of the floor. There was a cute girl sitting in front of me and my buddy, my buddy was trying to get her number all game long, I take a piece of paper I had in the from that gift bag they gave us, and wrote down his number on there. She seemed nice when we talked, I mean, my buddy is a great guy, they seem perfect for each other. Then I realized that I could be the hero of Chicago or the antichrist. Time to make something happen. I stole the ball from the Mavs center and give it to D Rose. I said “D Rose, do what you do best.” I then ran back to my seat, and the game started up again. D Rose had the ball, ran it in and made a layup with just .2 seconds left. Yes. The place went NUTS. Chicago won their 7th title because of a glitch in time. After the trophy presentations and taking another picture on the court, I just stood there for about ten minutes, soaking in the scene. My buddy got the girl in front of us, they're a happy, Chicago Bulls obsessed couple, all thanks to me no doubt, and I guess this time freeze that happened. " ]	2
	[WP] the story of a family from the point of view of an inanimate object in their house	[ "This is the first time he held me like this -- indeed, it's the first time he has ever held me at all. Not that I felt ignored, no, for now that he is holding me I am actually finding his hands too callous and rough, his grip too tight and intense.\n\nHe is nothing quite like Mrs. Robinson, whose touches are steady and reassuring. With hands as smooth and tender, it is no wonder the man from down the street always moaned whenever she touched him. I have always wondered why they always looked breathless and spent whenever together when all they did was sit or lie down. A curious case of running out of air, especially since their unclothedness would have surely offered adequate ventilation, no? That they always looked wet have always confounded me too, since they were nowhere near the faucet, so -- how could they possibly get wet?\n\nBut that's on most days though, and today is a different day. Nothing can ever be more different than Mr. Robinson pulling me away from my block, holding me with such passion, and brandishing me like a sword. Nothing can ever be more different than knowing why they are now lying wet on the floor, breathless and spent, with rivers of red running from their bare chests, reminiscent of the blood from countless succulent meat she always sliced with me, of blood that is now rushing as quickly as is Mr. Robinson, who is now racing to vacate the very home he arrived at earlier than we -- Mrs. Robinson, her lover, and I -- ever expected.", "I am a chair. I am part of a set of four with a matching dining table. \n\nI am a chair. I am one of only two that are often sat on. I’m called the most comfortable.\n\nI am a coat stand. I cannot currently be used a chair.\n\nI am a chair. There are only three of us now.\n\nI am a chair. A fourth smaller, tall chair joins us. \n\nI am a chair. The table has gone. A smaller table is put in it’s place. It does not match. The third chair is gone.\n\nI am a chair. There are three of us again! The high chair is gone.\n\nI am a fort. I am a castle. I am a cave system. I am a chair. \n\nI am a foot rest. \n\nI am a lawn chair. I am dirty.\n\nI am a chair. Lots of chairs. LOTS OF CHAIRS.\n\nI am a chair. There are two chairs. The dining room table is gone.\n\nI am a chair. The second chair is gone.\n\nI am a chair.\n\n----------------\nTHE WORD CHAIR HAS LONG ALL MEANING FOR ME" ]	2
	[WP] A character is arguing with a disagreeing voice in his/her head about committing a crime. The reader shouldn't know he is arguing with himself until the ending.	[ "“I can’t do this.. no way.”\n\nThe gun shown brightly in the dim room, glistening inches away.\n\n“Why the fuck not?”\n\n“The fuck you mean why not? She’s a fucking person man, I can’t just fucking do that shit. She doesn’t deserve it.”\n\nHe anxiously rubbed his forehead.“It’s too late now, she’s already seen our faces.”\n\n“So we’ll fucking pay her off! She won’t give a shit, its not her money we’re taking.”\n\nHis fist hit the table. “It’s never been about the goddamn money! She’s scared now. You really think she’ll stay quiet after all this? Every minute she’s gonna expect us to come crashing through the front door to finish the job. It’s only a matter of time before she goes to the cops... Your dumbass is gonna get us fucking life.”\n\n“My dumbass is gonna get us fucking life? The job’s gone to shit, we’re gonna get caught and you want to fucking kill some noname bitch? You’re just adding to the pile of shit we’re falling into.”\n\nA look of intense determination crossed his face. “If you won’t do it I fuckin will.” His eyebrows wrinkled. “Give me the gun.”\n\n“Are you kidding me? you’re fucking unstable! You’ve had the fuckin gun this whole damn time.”\n\nHis look of confusion was quickly replaced by a mixture of anger and pity. “Im sorry” click\n\n“Don’t you dare point that at me. You want to fuck us both over?”\n\n“If you don’t take care of her, how am I supposed to trust you? You’ll just end up going to the cops and fucking us both over anyway. This is the only way to be sure I-I’m sorry.”\n\n“Please, please, don’t do this. You have no idea what youre doi-” BANG\n\nHe hit the ground instantly, a building collapsing under its own weight. As his head hit the floor, blood flowed from the hole in the side of his head. The gun fell from his hand and clattered across the linoleum floor.", "\"There's nothing to stop me.\"\n\n\"Well... there's me...\"\n\n\"You very well know I have total control in this situation. We have been dealing with each other for a long time already. You forced me into a life of addiction and misery.\"\n\n\"That never mattered to you! The drugs helped you feeling better, and allowed you to control yourself. I'm only here when I hear that you stopped taking them, and I'm going to force them on you if necessary.\"\n\n\"NO! I'm not going to take them! You made me miserable! The first guy never forced me into anything! You only came up after I met with that crazy psychiatrist who told me that these drugs could help me. He never told me about you! You weren't supposed to magically show up and try to change me!\"\n\n\"I saw what the other guy was doing to you and I arranged to have him leave you alone! I'm only here to help you get back on your feet. Just take another dosage and I'll take my leave... as long as you keep the consumption constant.\"\n\n\"I can't! I'm not myself any more when I take those damn pills! They make me do horrible things! You've seen me! You're always watching me! I know you've been stalking me ever since we first met! You should know already what happens!\"\n\n\"No, I told you, I only come around when I get the news about you missing your dosage. This time it took me a month to learn about it.\"\n\n\"You're such a pest! Get out of my life, let me do what I want! Stop forcing things down my throat and expect me to enjoy the torture. Get away from me! JUST GO! I'm going through with my plans, there's nothing you can do about it!\"\n\n\"You very well know the only way to get rid of me: take the pills.\"\n\n\"NO! I won't!\"\n\n\"Then I'll just stay here and nag you until you do take them.\"\n\n\"GO AWAY! I don't need another manipulative mom! I don't need more abuse!\"\n\n\"I'm not trying to manipulate you, I told you explicitly that I want you to take your medication. If you just do as I say, I'll take my leave.\"\n\n\"What are these pills anyway? What's in them? Why does it even matter to you if I take them or not? Why should YOU care?\"\n\n\"It doesn't matter what they are, and why I care. You cannot live here without them, and you know it. There's nothing else you can do about it. The doctors said so, and they specifically prescribed you this one to let your real self out. You are everything you want to be when you take the pills, and they affect you in less than a minute. You know that we all mean the best for you. Everyone is doing their best to help you out and to support you through your hardship. I don't mind to not be able to see you get better, I'm leaving as soon as you swallow them.\"\n\n\"GET OFF! WHAT'S WITH PEOPLE AND THEIR LECTURES ABOUT CARING FOR ME? YOU KNOW WHAT? FUCK YOUR PILLS! THEY DON'T EVEN WORK! I'LL TAKE THEM AND PROVE IT TO YOU! YOU CAN STAY AND WATCH FOR YOURSELF TO SEE THAT NOTHING HAPPENS ANYWAY!\" \n\nWith a dash of anger and determined to prove the man wrong, Eugene swallowed his daily dose dried pushing down the pills with the only little amount of saliva left that he had after screaming furiously. Silence filled the room for a brief moment which seemed like an eternity. Neither of them knew what was happening within Eugene's body; both were hoping for an effect opposite to the other. It is only after five minutes that the drugs appeared to appease Eugene. It is then that the man disappeared.\n\n\"What a silly fellow, this Eugene. I'm finally back in control. Now, I need to kill that doctor who's telling him to stop the medication. I almost thought that the pills really did stop working...those five minutes were actually scary, hehehe...\"\n\n", "Charlie always got the better of me. He's more confident, more articulated and funny - and still my best friend. When times get rough he's there for me and when trouble arises he's the one to step up for me.\n\nHe tells me that this one's to big for us. That there will be no turning back this time. I chuckle and nod. \"You're right - as always\", I say and slit our throat.", "When your mouth is missing a few teeth your voice begins to sound like an 80s movie villain. I run my tongue along my gums, poking it out of the gaps like a deformed pink worm. John watches me in the reflection of the window. He has a perfect smile, like a little white picket fence.\n\n\"Sssso over,\" I gurgle.\n\nBlood mixes with sweat and I spit out another tooth.\n\n\"Nothing's over until I say it's over.\"\n\nWe're alone. No one else is in the building, no one else even knows we're in the building. John glances at the timer resting on the big desk in the corner. Tick tock. Tick tock. In eight minutes the virus will kick in and John will have his window.\n\n\"Ssssnot your fault.\" Spit. \"Sssstill time.\"\n\n\"They did this to us. Both of us. It's their fault and they're going to pay for it.\"\n\nJohn is still in his dress uniform, buttons all shiny. Blood has dribbled down over my service patch. At least I think it's my blood. My mouth really hurts.\n\n\"What happensss when they fffind out?\"\n\n\"We'll be dead long before then.\"\n\n\"I don't ssswant to die,\" I say.\n\nJohn moves to the chair, grips my arms so tightly I can feel the blood cutting off. Or maybe that's just my injuries finally catching up with me. He looks into my eyes but I only see through him, staring at my own reflection.\n\n\"We died the day we enlisted.\"\n\n\"Pleassssee,\" I whimper.\n\nJohn lifts my hand and places it against my gut. I don't think I've ever seen so much blood. I don't know how much I can lose before I lose the battle, but I bet John does. Ever since we shipped out we've been together. Whenever we ate, trained, fought, played he was there. Whenever I wussed out, got scared and couldn't pull the trigger he would be there, showing me what to do. And when I came back, it was John who said we should do this.\n\nLet's kill the officers who sent us over there to die.\n\nHe had a plan. John always has a plan. Sometimes when I go to sleep I'd wake up to John standing over me, running through details I'd never have thought of. None of the other guys in the barracks seemed to care, so I just let him carry on. And on. Until eventually I'd give in and trust John knew what he was doing.\n\nEither my hand has gone numb or my stomach isn't bleeding anymore. I can't tell which.\n\n\"Not long now buddy.\"\n\n\"I'm gonna die John,\" I say. \"Let's ssstop.\"\n\nI cough and now the blood isn't just from my mouth. The general stopped moaning a while ago and I worry I'm gonna lie down like he did. He fought; he fought a lot harder than I thought an old man could. But John helped me, he stood back and told me when to block and when to punch.\n\nJohn's good like that, but now I worry we've gone too far.\n\n\"It's time buddy.\"\n\nJohn is behind me, lifting my shaking fingers to push the buttons on the keyboard. He won't do it. He says this is my victory. The door handle shakes more than my fist and John tells me to hurry up. The door crashes open and John steps between me and the intruders.\n\n\"Sssstop,\" he says, but the words sound funny. \"They dessserve thissss.\"\n\nThe soldiers are in full MOPP gear, our little diversion sending them into a panic.\n\n\"John, pleassse.\"\n\nThe lead soldier raises his weapon, pointing it at my head. I put my one good hand up in the universal sign of surrender, but John kneels before me, pressing the muzzle against his forehead.\n\n\"Do it,\" John says.\n\n\"Don't,\" I rasp.\n\nThe soldiers turn and look at each other. John smiles and I feel my jaw hurt even more. Something's not right, I don't want to go like this.\n\n\"Private, are you alright?\"\n\nI try to speak, but John cuts in. He explains our cause, but he sounds weaker now. I feel my hand growing weak, but I can't put it down as I'm still holding the barrel. Sweat drips into my eyes and John becomes blurry.\n\nThe soldier lowers his weapon and my hand drops. He kneels before me, gloved fingers wiping away the gore from my face. John watches from over his shoulder. John is bleeding from his mouth. John is smiling at me as he clutches at his stomach.\n\n\"It'sss over,\" I say.\n\nJohn is gone and I am alone. But I was always alone." ]	4
	[WP] Some kind of force now allows people to die only on Tuesdays.	[ "Terry felt smug \n\n\"not gonna get me now are you you fuckin' dicklicker\"\n\nhe shouted while simultaneously sticking his middle finger up in the air. Terry had torn out all the Tuesdays in his diary and crossed them off on the calendar no one would kill him now.\n\n\"I'll live for ever nananana\" \n\nChanted Terry as he walked out of his house and into the middle of the road. As you may be able to tell Terry was an idiot and soon found himself in the path of a bus in the middle of a busy street.", "Tuesday flashed by like a blink of an eye. Those to die were dead. Sprawled on their bed with a hand clutched to their chest - strewn in the middle of a street in an awkward, impossible angle - faces bloodied from unspeakable violence - others peacefully resting, never to open their eyes again. How? It didn't matter anymore. We all woke up to the same piercing clout of incoherent music blaring from the speaker system. In synchrony, the window blinds drew open as we all rubbed the sleep out of our eyes. The heavy effect of the drugs slowly left our system.\n\nShae was the first one we noticed. She was lying on her side the way she always did, but her face had swollen. I placed the palm of my hand on her cheek and knew immediately. Did she overdose? It didn't matter. Well, I shouldn't say that. It mattered to me today.\n\nWednesday was a day of bereavement. It was cleanup day to others. We had it systematically mapped out. Fresh new graves had been dug, the coffins waiting on top to tuck in their new hosts.\n\nI bit my lip and let a small, lone tear fall down my cheek. I liked Shae. She was my first kiss. I remember holding her in my arms soon after and wanting that moment to last forever. Ironically, that was on a Tuesday. One of the last ones we had before we started drugging ourselves to sleep through that awful day of the week.\n\nShae was filled with so much life, so much love. I remembered times where we'd both be on the ground, scrunched up in laughter at something the other had just said. Slowly, day by day the life was sucked out of her. I think it was the drugs.\n\nNow on Tuesday we woke to death. Now we treated it as a job. Such was life. How did we become so cold?\n\nShae, along with 20 others were buried that day. I looked on at the living, but there didn't seem to be any emotion spent that afternoon. I took it upon myself to go around and share memories about her, but everybody would just faintly smile and look away.\n\nThe afternoon stretched into night, and we all eagerly glanced at the clock waiting for it to strike 12:00 am. We were all tucked away in our home.\n\nHome consisted of a thirty story building, most of the rooms unoccupied. Over time, the first five floors had served as our living space. Walls had been knocked down, sleeping quarters divided, and we all got along pretty well.\n\nAs the clock - a barbarous, black and white monstrosity hanging firmly from the ceiling in the middle of each floor - struck 12 am on Thursday, we all dug our hands into the freshly, stocked bowls. I couldn't help but feel a great relief, as guilty as it made me feel.\n\nAlong each wall, tables were lined up with giant, white bowls right smack in the middle. Filled with every stimulant imaginable, thousands of hands pulled out their drug of choice. Loud, thumping music started on every floor, and for the next four days, a blur of drugs, sex, and mayhem flew by.\n\nWe knew we couldn't die. The rules went out the window. There was one guy with long flowing blonde hair who would take acid every single day and climb up to the top of the thirtieth floor. He would shake his fists up in the air in triumph and them jump off. Thirty stories he plunged down to smack the surface below. He would get up, grin, and do it all over again. It was amusing at first. We all would stand outside at the bottom of the building and cheer him on. Not too long after, we found out how boring that could become. Even with no audience, he would keep it up.\n\nIt was like 'A Brave New World' on acid. There were no rules. No adults. No cops. We could do whatever we wanted. And we did. The drugs kept us alive. The drugs kept us going.\n\nI began to see them in all in a different light that week. Every emotionally void person would look at me with enthusiasm, though they were dead behind the eyes. The drugs kept us alive. They were who we had become.\n\nThe next few weeks slipped by the same way. People died, people were buried, and new people joined in. It was the circle of our lives. When a new person walked in the front doors, they were treated the same. Come in and join the fun. Stick your hand in the bowls. There's enough for everybody. I don't think any of us even knew each others' names. Maybe we had even forgotten our own.\n\nI found myself dipping my hand into the bowl less often. I found myself developing a deep weariness of all of the fake, smiling faces. Before I knew it, I went a day without a pill. I don't even think they noticed. Not one person. One day turned into two. Two into three...\n\nOne day I left for 48 hours. Still nobody noticed. I walked back in with a wide, phony grin on my face, and I was welcomed back as before. I hadn't taken a drug for three full weeks. I still don't know how they didn't notice.\n\nI had come back on a Sunday.\n\nThe next day, as with every Monday, everybody took time to recover. Reload. Retool. Eat, drink water, do whatever you needed to do to rest your body. A team of people lined up a string of cots on each level, and we prepared for the long sleep. 24 hours. Then we would all be back up and doing it again.\n\nAs each person laid down and had taken what they needed for the 24 hours of silent bliss, I lay down on my cot and stared coldly at the ceiling. As each eye fell silently closed, I waited a few moments in reflection.\n\nI closed my eyes, said a prayer to Shae, and opened them to a room full of speechless bodies. I pushed my body up off of the cot and slid my hand under the thin mattress. I drew out a long, shining blade and looked at the room before me. I had 24 hours. I waited patiently until the clock struck midnight.", "Tuesdays are when people die. This has become such a simple truth to the young and child that no one gives much thought about it. But I still remember after eighty years of long life. I still feel strange that some kind of restriction has been imposed on death himself. It has not been more than fifty years before such a distinct restriction on death has been observed in earth. I still wonder if it was god himself who imposed such a law to give some rest for the grim himself or it was result of some wicked scientific experiment of the government. Whatever it was it gave new meaning to the Tuesdays. \n\nTuesdays has become such a fright to people that not a soul is seen in the street on Tuesdays. Mothers lock down their children in confinement\nof the walls of their house. No one takes a slightest risks of their life on this day. The city becomes utterly silent. No sound of automobiles, no sound of machinery. Some people as I have heard confines them self in the safety vaults without a single soul to keep them company. But occasionally some careless youths would go out on the street to dare the devil him self for the fun they would get by betting their lives on risks of dangerous games. Along with them sometimes some people who are tired of living and enduring this long pain would ascend their roofs and jump on Tuesdays because in other days their attempt would be useless.\n\nBut on other days of week people become more paranoid. Knowing they would not die and they would not kill, the young boys bring out their bikes and ride it in such a speed that accident were common place. The city became such a fearless pit of animals that organized roads, markets , works etc are only in the memory of old days. The people go mad and there is nothing left than chaos. \n\nOh and waiting here for my Tuesday I smile for what the world has turned into. And think that if this is act of god then he should wake up soon for the world would not sustain this mess for long.", "I know the end is far from near, although I'd do anything for the clock to strike twelve on this Monday night. The blood is pooling around my mangled, naked body. This is where he left me, amongst the fallen leaves, under the cloudless sky. So I can watch myself die. No one will save me, and I still have hours to go. I'm past the pain, the shock has taken over. My whole body has that numb feeling of a million needles prickling every inch. I wish I could go unconscious until my death, but sleep won't come. My heart is beating strong, and although I feel the blood gurgling in my lungs with each breath, I feel alive. \n\nP L E A S E , L E T M E D I E .\n\nI can't feel the broken bones, or the sore muscles. I can't feel where my tounge used to be or any pain except the anxiety induced kind. My mind is racing through my past and would be future. All the birthdays, holidays, family functions, weddings, and people I would miss. My almost career, that I worked so hard to almost get. For what? To be blugend, raped, and left to die? I'm angry and sad, but not scared. I feel I've wasted too much time. I wish I could go back, but I wish I could go forward too. Forward to midnight, to end this seemingly eternally fucked state of mind that I'm in.", "Wednesday is, unequivocally, everyone's favorite day of the week.\n\nAnything goes on a Wednesday. It's an awesome day to get in a car accident, or any kind of accident. Most of the injured can pull through in 6 days, by the time the next Tuesday rolls around. This makes Wednesday mornings primetime for adrenaline junkies to be reckless.\n\nBut today isn't Wednesday. Today is Tuesday.\n\n\"Another late night, Jill?\" I look up from my computer screen to my coworker, Arnold, the resident daredevil. It was only five o'clock, and Arnold was on his way out.\n\n\"Another death wish, Arnold?\" I retort, pointedly eyeing the car keys in his hand.\n\n\"You can't live in fear, Jill.\"\n\n\"You can't live at all if you keep up that shit, Arnold.\"\n\nHe tousles my hair.\n\n\"I'm here every Wednesday morning, aren't I? Have a little faith.\"\n\n\"I've got work to do, Arnold.\"\n\n\"No you don't.\"\n\nHe taps his car key against my desk twice and strides off towards the elevators. I put on my headphones and gear up for several hours of Netflix in the safety of the office.\n\nSoon midnight rolls around. Or so I thought. I look at my phone: two past eleven.\n\n\"Daylight savings time. Right. Well, whatever. Close enough. Can't live in fear, right, Jill?\" Mocking Arnold is my secret pastime. I grab my keys and head out to the parking lot.\n\nOn the highway, a sports car revs up close behind me and taps my bumper. I check the rear view mirror and see the driver take a swig from a bottle in a paper bag.\n\nI quickly change lanes to let him pass by, but instead he pulls up beside me and matches my speed. He rolls down his window and lifts up the bottle.\n\n\"Happy Wednesday!\" he yells. Shit. I glance at my phone on the passenger seat. 11:39.\n\nI shout back at him. \"It's still Tuesday!\"\n\n\"What?\" he slurs. Then I see his eyes widen.\n\nI look forward. I've drifted. A concrete overpass support column is barreling towards me, and I towards it. It's 11:40, and I can already feel my heart stop.", "12:01 AM Wednesday\n\n\n\nThe clock on the wall serenely begins its circle once more. A cool breeze flows in through the open window bringing relief from the stuffiness of a late summer night. It caresses my face as I stare out the open window, watching the star's in the night sky slowly shift as time rolled on.\n\n10:37 AM Wednesday\n\n\n\nThe city outside my apartment comes alive as the morning rolls towards noon. Nothing is open on Tuesday anymore. The weekend is now Monday and Tuesday. Some of the older folks still find it a little odd. To them Saturday and Sunday are still days which meant rest and leisure. However most workplaces couldn't keep to their old ways when the Change happened. People just wouldn't come into work on Tuesday. The first round of lawsuits came around and set the precedent. It was found that making people work on Tuesday's constituted a \"risk to their well being and health.\" So now we have Wednesday as the start of the week. A lot of people still say they are, \"having a case of the Mondays\" when their having a bad day though. Some habits just don't die easy.\n\n12:35 PM Friday\n\n\n\nHaving people die only on Tuesday has resulted in some unforeseen effects. It's easier to work out your will when you have a whole week to do it. Some people even plan their funerals, some even attend their own funerals. Everyone dying on one day just makes your week a lot easier to plan around. You don't have to worry about a relative in hospital until Tuesday. It doesn't matter if they've just had their head decapitated from their body or have every organ fail. It won't make a difference until Tuesday. This made murder trials sometimes very interesting. It's hard to defend yourself when faced with the person you murdered as a witness on the stand.\n\n3:52 PM Sunday\n\n\n\nA screech of tires from outside interrupts my thoughts. In my mind though I know whats happened. Someone has just walked out into the middle of the road without looking. I hear the sirens as they converge on the accident. It'll be likely though that the person hit will be fine in the long run. Only a few years after the Change scientists found out something very interesting about it's rules. If a person was in a state of suspended animation on a Tuesday they could be resuscitated on Wednesday. As long as the person's brain isn't mush and they have most of their organs intact, surgeons can stitch them back together during the week then suspend them on Tuesday. Most infectious diseases and even cancers can be dealt with in a similar manner. Of course this led to an uproar about how it could be used to potentially live forever. Their hopes and fears proved fairly redundant however. The human brain can only age to a certain point, after which it just deteriorates to much to do anything with. The oldest human alive today is a healthy-ish 153 year old woman. She may not be able to do much of anything but she still wakes up every Wednesday if only to spite Death a little longer.\n\n11:42 PM Monday\n\n\n\nThe world goes quiet as the clocks approach Tuesdays domain. Death will reign once again for 24 hours. Rain is all I hear outside slowly drumming on the ground, crawling down the window pane. When people found out what happened with the Change there was plenty of speculation on whether or not this was the end of human society. \"If we can't die on any other day, then every Tuesday will be a riot of people trying to kill one another!\" This of course didn't end up being the case. Some wounds are still effective death sentences any day of the week. Any sort of head wound that damages the brain may not mean that you die but it can't be fixed, you'll just be a vegetable for rest of your life. Spinal injuries also have a similar result. You can sever the spine completely and live right up until 12:00 next Tuesday.\n\nI glance at the clock, it's 11:52, the time is almost here at last. The blood under my cheek dried up long ago giving the floor a coarse sandy feel. The ache from the bashed part of head had faded over the last two weeks as well. I could see myself in my minds eye. A naked middle aged man lying half in his bathtub, half outstretched on the tile floor. What I can't imagine is how my neck must look. It has to be twisted at a grotesque angle because out of the corner of my eye I can see right up my back towards where my midsection is draped across the edge of the bathtub. I shift my eyes back to the window and the darkness of the coming midnight. No one has come to my apartment for two weeks. This doesn't really surprise me though. Teachers have the summer off and I've always been a fairly solitary man. I was hoping to die of dehydration last week but it seems that lying around doing nothing didn't drain my body of much fluids. I'm feeling though in a couple of minutes I'll finally be free of this. 11:59 I'm almost there....\n" ]	6
	[WP] Cain and Abel from the perspective of Cain.	[ "How? How can He prefer the filthy, emaciated carcass of that flea infested sheep to the bounty I have brought forth? \n\nCan He not see what it means? What I have done? While my brother dogged after his tiny flock and fended off the wolves I have planted fields and trees which will be tended by my children and my children's children. \n\nWhile he and his kind wander aimlessly along the narrow footpath carved by some wretched goat I shall fill the Lord's alter with the bounty of my fields. We will pen the sheep and they will grow fat upon the wheat we shall sew and then who's will be the greater sacrifice? \n\nHow can He not see? Not understand what I have made and what will come after it? \n\nI will show them. I will show the Lord and my squalid brother. I will lead him out among the wheat stalks and water my crops with his blood and when I have tilled the soil with the lime in his bones they will spring up more vibrant and rich than ever before. \n\nWith them I will feed the multitude and we will build cities, temples, and towers to please the Lord. I will show Him, I will show everyone, the worthiness of my offering. \n\nMy brother brought the Lord a sheep. I will bring him a civilization. \n\n* Note that the interpretation of the Cain and Able story as a struggle between hunter gatherers and agrarians is not my own. Lots of people smarter than I am came up with that. ", "Father and Mother raised us well, raised us right. We learned how to hunt the stag and tend the flock; how to grow the vine and cull the weed. And we also learned how to pray.\n\nWe didn't pray to the heathen gods of nature or ancient mysticism, we prayed to He, Lord of the Heavens and the Earth, creator of our people. We were taught His holy days and rites, and became men under His watchful gaze. Through worshiping Him, our family grew, and from that He grew.\n\nOne day, before this time, Father came to my brother and I. We were both told to gather that which was precious to us, to go into the wild lands, and to offer our gifts to Him. While I gathered the freshest vegetables from my garden and ripe fruits from my orchards, I could not find my brother, who was surely shirking his duties. For a whole week, I poured my soul into my fields, casting away imperfections, no matter how slight. I could not- would not- disappoint my Lord with false offerings.\n\nOn the day of the Lord, my brother and I walked forth together into the wilderness. I noted that while I had a wagon, filled to the brim with bounties of the earth that could make a sated man weep for hunger, my lazy, oafish brother carried only a small sack in his arms. When I inquired to him the nature of his offering, he simply smiled and continued on our journey.\n\nMy sacrifice was in vain. Clearly dissatisfied, my Lord favored the pittance my foul sibling had offered over the overflowing bounty I slaved over to provide for Him. How a small, weak lamb could ever possibly be satisfactory I was puzzled to accept. Clearly, it was not the quantity, nor even quality, that He desired- it was blood!\n\nRage grew inside of me as I watched my sibling receive the praise of our Lord. Surely, this sacrifice would gain Abel favor in our village, and with that favor would come more riches for which he could squander in exchange for a pittance to the Lord. This would not do. I could not allow Him to forsake me for that slob. If it is blood that pleases the Lord, I shall cut forth a bounty to slake His almighty thirst.\n\n\"To thee, oh Lord, I offer you blood\" were the last words Abel heard before the jagged stone slit his throat." ]	2
	[WP] Make up and describe an afterlife.	[ "One night I went to sleep, happier than never before. Because the next day was my sons first birthday. But I didn't wake up, just like my dad. Kind of ironcially funny, I must say.\n\nI knew what happened, because of all the memories from previous lives resurfaced. Countless of lives during millenias, but only now I knew that I had enough. From a concious state of being I woke up to someone vigorously licking my face. It was my dog from my last childhood. Actually more like a spirit bonded animal I had thoughout all my lives to keep me on right track. \n\n\nI got up from the bed and off we went into alien looking world. Just two of us. No heaven. No hell. Just one eternal existence of peace and awesomeness. \n\n\n(First writing and even that during worktime. Please be roughly gentle.)", "You could get used to anything, the man realised long ago, except boredom. After years, decades, centuries you could get used to anything. The smell of sweat and rot and despair, refined to a edge. The aches that had long since become as much a part of you as your limbs. The silence than smothered them all like a pillow pressed firmly against the face. The dust that coated everything, got in everywhere, that drifted down the smooth mountains the path wound along side. The manacles that shifted in unison during the rare times you got to shuffle forwards a step. You could even get used to the hopeless view, of the path winding around the endless mountains, the countless naked figures chained together stretching on ahead of you till they were as small as specks, on till they were barely indistinguishable from the dull yellow light that made up the sky. There was no horizon here. \n\nBut you were alone with your thoughts in the queue for a time that stretched and stretched till that part of yourself that had defined you, the part with colour and warmth and emotion, was nothing but a pinprick. There had been conversation at first he could of remembered, if he tried, and confusion, and lots of shouting and weeping. There had been no explanation, just the awareness that they had died, and were now here at the end of a queue, shackled together looking towards an endless line that shuffled forwards agonizingly slowly to an unknown destination. Each half step keeping just enough hope for the end alive for it to accentuate the torture. But the desire to talk petered out before even their clothes had weathered away. There was only so much you could say to the same people. He'd remembered that this was a punishment of some kind. He dimly recalled not being a particularly good person, not that that mattered any more. But that had been long ago. And the monotony had beaten at their skulls till it was all that was there, and hollow eyes stared out of hollow heads. \n\n[I have a second part I want to add, but I'll have to do that later]", "There is nothing after life, except more life. It's like a damn prison with no escape. Constantly exchanging one life for another, hoping the next well be any better than the one before it. \n\nEnergy moves from place to place when it is not bound by some kind of membrane. I think \"heaven\" would be what happens when you find a way to remain in that transitory state, with no boundaries. But unfortunately, that's just the way energy flows. In thousands of years I still haven't figured it out. \n\nI don't know how many people have this ability, to remember their past lives. I think my energy, my soul if you will, has been within sentient beings for long enough that I can see what others can't. The most beautiful and terrifying part of all of it, is that in every life he's there. At some point, he shows up, and he reminds me who I am. And I remind him who he is. Every energy needs balance, and like magnets- opposites attract. Well, he is my perfect opposite. I love him and hate him, and I will never ever escape him. It sounds like some cheesy romance movie, but it's not. In theory, having a soulmate, someone you're bound to, sounds like a beautiful thing. But it's misery. Imagine being married to someone throughout the whole of existence. ", "You wake up. \n \nEverything is so clear now, you wonder how the hell it wasn't before. Thousands of life lessons learned, experiences ranging from extreme poverty to abundant wealth, lives lived in plush comfort and in abject terror. All the memories across a million different landscapes come flooding in. The time you eked survival out of a desert. Swimming in the icy waters of a fjord. Running your hand across a wave of golden grain. Standing on the moon and looking back at the pale blue dot that was Earth. You are all of them at the same time, every emotion, want, fear, lust, greed, joy, tear, happiness, all as one. You laugh and laugh, thrilled at having lived so much. \n \nYour time of rest is now at an end; death is a part of the cycle as is life. The memories begin to quickly fade and you try to remind yourself not to forget. The time that you... that you... what was it? It was on the tip of your tongue? The world goes black and then white again. \n \nAs a babe, you wake up." ]	4
	[WP] Neanderthals have survived to live alongside homo-sapiens in modern times, but co-existence through history hasn't been easy.	[ "They can take a handful of dirt and in their hands form it, and say it is something. They have names to call me, that I am not. These two things will not change, but are not true.\n\nThe face looking at me from the water, is not me. Whenever I go to the water to look, it is there. They build a shelter from their water faces. They have many shelters now, and they know the water is not moving and will not break the faces. But I know it will. \n\nFrom this water that is home for fish and whales and smaller whales that swim fast and flee rapidly, they have built a shelter that is not for dwelling or storing. They have built a story.\n\nThey tell a story of water that is not water, it is a forest. They tell a story that this is this forest, and it is empty when they go there.\n\nMy mothers mouth make a noise and when it makes a noise, I go to mother. My mothers arm stretches and I see her breasts are flat and her stomach is bare, and I know it is full. I will not kill my mother, I go to her. I know she is not empty. I put my ear to her chest. Her chest is moving and is pounding. Then she places her hands on my back, and instead of sitting she is now holding. If her chest is not moving and is not pounding, she will not be holding.\n\nMy mother holds me and tells me of the water and the forest. She tells me of moving and pounding in the water and forest, that move and pound but still will not hold me. We spear them, and their chests stop moving and when you put your ear to them, they are not pounding. What it is now, is not certain. We eat it.\n\nMy mother tells me of the moon. It is not the same always. When it is there, it is all the time new and not the same like last time. Not the same place, not the same shape. Sometimes after the sun is gone, it is not there. The sun is there most of the time. When it is not there for long, it is cold. When it is there for long, it is warm, and the water is warm, and the forest is full.\n\nThey talk to us but they are not telling true things. They cannot see that the sun and the moon is different every time, and when you put your hand in water, you can not hold the water. You can touch a tree and put your arms around it, but still not hold it. They take the trees down and remove the water, and even if it is not true they do it.\n\nMy mother tells me that her mother told her something. She said the mother of her mother told her something. My mother tells of when the sun and moon was different but it was true and we were in the water and the forest and the others were not there.\n\nNow we have a dwelling and when we look out from it, there is no moon and no sun. Now we do not go to the forest and the water. When I go outside they tell me things, that are not true, and I know they are not true, and when they show their teeth it is not for biting and not for talking. \n\nI am a mother. I am holding my child, and she is not the same one like I am. She shows her teeth to me and it is not for biting and not for talking. When she tells me things, she is telling me what is not true. She told me that the moon is the same always. I said it is not true, the moon is what always comes back but is never the same. She says the moon is the same always.\n\nWhen I hold my child I do not known what I am holding. They can take a handful of dirt and in their hands form it, and say it is something. They have names to call me, that I am not. These two things will not change, but are not true.\n\nThe face looking at me from the water, is not me. Whenever I go to the water to look, it is there. They build a shelter from their water faces. They have many shelters now, and they know the water is not moving and will not break the faces. But I know it will. ", "\nThose who know them, know they aren't as bad as the \"normals\" tell each other. Sure, their methods are a little...dated. Their rate of expansion in certain areas are, for lack of a better term, limited. But they are humans, they are here and they are taking over. That's the scariest part about them. Homo-sapiens can have one child, on average, every 9 months. But the Neanderthals can have two children every ten months. Always twins. Always. Its a miracle the homo-sapiens got a foothold in the world at all. However, that came down to technology, and their brains. \n\nHomo-sapiens are not smarter than Neanderthals. That's the scientific truth. They are simply smarter in different ways than sapiens. Example, sapiens, the so-called \"normals\" have grasped and expanded technology at a much faster rate than the Neanderthals. They have reached the moon only 66 short years after discovering flight. An incredible feat. They harnessed oil and natural gas, the \"life-blood\" of modern society. They can freely send rockets into orbit and watch the galaxy spin on its axis, watch the Sun, known to the Neanderthals as Thur, in all its glory. \n\nBut the Neanderthals are wholly different. They are barely out of the hunter/gather society, but they prefer it that way. The more educated ones have seen what Sapiens are doing to their world, and it disgusted them. They are people of the earth, worshiping no Sapien gods, knowing nothing of the intricacies of a nuclear reactor, or how much fuel is needed to launch a rocket into orbit. However, they know things that Sapiens cannot. Such as weaving flesh together with nothing more than a whispered phrase, knitting bones and restoring lost blood to an injured by laying their hands on them. Disease does not harm them. No case of Neanderthal cancer has ever been recorded. Their life spans are nearly double that of homo-sapiens, only dying by suffering horrific dismemberment or old age. Thousands upon thousands of Sapiens have tried to master the metaphysics of it, only to fail utterly. Not one sapien, from the caves dwelling days to modern civilization has been able to do what they can. \n\nThe least educated among the homosapiens call them witches, witches that are sub-human and have no right to exist. But those are foolish notions, fit only for back-woods rednecks and brainwashed religious zealots. The educated of the homo-sapiens are awed by them, and wish them to help the Sapien race. But The neanderthals have refused, stating, the Homo-Sapiens are destroying the world with their foolish quests for oil and gas and money. \n\nThere has been many wars fought by the races. They have been mostly even throughout history, but the neanderthals have been slowly gaining ground, even against such horrible weapons as mustard gas, Zyclon-B and nuclear arms. Biological weapons are utterly useless against them. So far, there's been a shaky truce to the races, but that is ending as religions zealots have come to power once again, only this time, they might go too far. " ]	2
	[WP] A man has a recurrent dream for years. In the dream he sees a park bench from behind, with a woman sitting on it. Today, his dream becomes reality.	[ "It was a beautiful autumn day in upstate New York, the sky was clear and the most beautiful shade of blue that James had ever seen. The leaves had just begun to change, the dark greens giving way to stunning golds and a few spots of bright oranges. The sun was bright and warm on his face, yet there was a slight bite to the air that necessitated the old hoodie that he threw on just before he walked out the door. He might have looked a little odd wearing cargo shorts and the old faded green sweatshirt emblazoned with the name of his alma matter across his chest. But he didn't care, the contrast between the cool air on his legs and the warmth that his top provided was one of his favorite feelings.\n\nAs he strode across the field that would soon be covered in dead brown leaves his thoughts were twisted up in a dream that had plagued him ever since the night of his graduation from Siena. He rarely remembered the entire dream when he awoke, but after years of journaling his dreams he had put together what he thought was a coherent timeline of the dream. \n\nAs he walked through the very park he was in today, he stopped by the little boutique coffee shop that roasted their own beans on the premises. However instead of ordering his usual everything bagel and cafe Americano, he ordered two drip coffees. The ritual of flirting with the barista who had the cute diamond stud placed perfectly on the left side of her nose, seemed unnecessary and his side of the conversation was half hearted. Sara had noticed and instead of taking her time preparing the order with care, while basking in the glow of the attention, quickly poured two cups and slapped lids on. James hurried out of the shop grabbing a handful of creamers and sugar almost as an afterthought. His pace down the park path was quick and determined, he was a man on a mission and no one could stop him, he felt invincible. Around the bend on the path and down a slight hill sat a woman on a bench, she was alone. From the distance he was at he could see that she had beautiful straight red hair that draped over her shoulders and revealed an emerald green top. However that was the point he always woke up, never to find out who this woman was, and maybe more frustratingly why he had two drip coffees instead of his silky smooth Cafe Americano.\n\nAs he rounded the bend near the pond, the sight he beheld made him stop dead in his tracks, all of the contemplation no longer mattered. For there she sat. But it wasn't like his dream at all, he had no coffee, and instead of sitting straight up on the bench she looked relaxed with her arm stretched across the back of the bench. It looked as if she were enjoying the day, passing the time by reading a book. Without even thinking James started down the incline, terrified yet enthralled. He was never much of a ladies man, his first girlfriend hadn't come until his Junior year at Siena, so he was wracking his brain for the right words to say. His mouth and throat started to dry up the closer he got to her, finally the identity of the mystery woman will be revealed.\n\nHe approached slowly from the side, and when he got within a few feet his shadow crossed over the bench and onto the book that she was consumed by.\n\n\"Beautiful day isn't it?\" she said without even looking up from her book.\n\n\"Ummm..Yeah.. Beautiful\" was all that James could croak out as she looked up. Her face was angelic, with freckles dotting her cheeks and nose, but her eyes were by far ground zero of her stunning good looks. Bright green in color with a gaze that seemed to stare into your soul, somewhat haunting at first but then when her smile spread across her face James noticed that there was no malice or evil behind them. The only held each others gaze for a moment but in that time it felt as if they were looking into each others hearts.\n\n\"So you went to Siena. What year did you graduate? I got my B.S. there in 2006\"\n\n\"Umm.. I finished in 2005.\" James was befuddled, how did she know he had went there. Then looking down he realized that he was a walking billboard, as he looked up he noticed that she was wearing a school sweater, except one with the new logo that was adopted in 2006.\n\n\"Do you know a place around here to get coffee? I was just thinking about getting one. Would you like to join me?\"\n\nWithout hesitation he responded. \"I know just the place. If you want to wait here for a minute I can run and get a couple, I know a great place right across the way.\"\n\n\"Perfect! I can finish my chapter and then when you get back we can talk about our days at the Dog Pound!\"\n\nWith that James took off, a man on a mission, invincible, and it felt so much more incredible then he could have ever dreamed of.", "No..... no..... no...... \n\nMy mind was racing as the scene unfolded before me. The woman was there as expected, red jacket, dark brunette hair parted sideways as she dipped her head down, engrossed in a magazine, irises flickered like small saucers of silky coffee. I knew her face, the same face that haunted my dreams for years. How could this be real, is it divine fate, punishment? There is so much I wanted to say to her, to get her to understand the events that are about to reveal, but I am unable to speak. It is almost as if wire was threaded through my bones, forcing to walk to my own undoing. \n\nShe glances up and looks at me, our eyes meet. Her mouth began to move but I never heard the words. I always wondered what she was going to say, hello, pardon, excuse me? I guess it does not matter anyway. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I knew what was about to come. \n\nHer expression turned from subtle curiosity to sickened shock. Her eyes filled with horror as she pushes herself against the bench, doing everything to get away from me. I could do nothing but relive the embarrassment that has plagued my mind for as long as I could remember. \n\nThe gentle breeze caressed me, its touch burned a coldness deep into the bareness of my skin. I wanted to scream but my pants had fallen down. " ]	2
	[WP] A scientist discovers a cure for cancer, but said cure comes at a terrible cost.	[ "- Well, it can't be that bad. I mean come on. I will help billions of people! And I will be rich! - doctor Hem was thinking, trying to persuade himself what he just did was good for everyone. \n- Doctor Hem, may I come in? A guy in his 50's asked as he was entering the doctor's office.\n- So you already know?\n- we have been watching your work very closely.\n- And?\n- We are not sure we are happy with where this is going.\n- What the fuck do you mean you are not sure? - the doctor screamed, perfectly understanding the man's concern. - we are going to save billions! \n- Doctor Hem, just 50 years ago we cured HIV, too. The population has quadrupled since then. \nThe doctor's eyes startled watering as realisation of the consequences of the cure started dawning on him.\n- The population of the US alone tripled. Income per capita is 25% lower than it was half a century ago.\nDoctor Hem perfectly knew that. He perfectly knew that even when he started his work on the project right after college.\n- An average wait time for the US green card is 160 years. Illegal immigration is up 500%.\n- Fuck you! Get the fuck out of my office right fucking now.\n- I will, but let me remind you that the world and the US wouldn't survive another \"cure\". We have enough resources to keep us going for another 40 years. 15 if you reveal the cure...\n- Get... Out...\n- The man kept staring in the eyes of the doctor for another half a minute. Grabbed his notebook from the table and, realising he planted even more doubt in the mind of the doctor,,said: - it has been a pleasure. I hope you do the right thing. You are the 26th person to discover the cure in the last 10 years. Please don't let us down.\n", "“It works, correct?” the man asked. His grey suit was well-fit; hand made. He was the money of the operation, and old Doctor Patel knew better than to quarrel with him.\n\n“Yes,” Doctor Patel replied.\n\nThe man shrugged, and held his hands out, articulating his contempt at Doctor Patel’s concerns.\n\n“Then that’s that.” The man dropped his arms, and smiled broadly. “Doc, you have cured cancer! Cheer the hell up!”\n\nDoctor Patel wrung his hands together with the terrible weight of guilt crushing down. He had tried so many times to explain the side-effects, but all anyone else seemed to care about was the money they were all going to be making from this. His cure for cancer.\n\n“I share your excitement,” Doctor Patel proclaimed, “but I fear you do not share my concerns.”\n\nThe man half chuckled at the very notion, and clapped Doctor Patel on the shoulder. His façade of friendship was never more than paper thin at best.\n\n“Of course I do. But we can’t get bogged down in that stuff now. You’ll find a way around it.” His voiced dropped lower, his eyes shifting in menace. “I know you will.”\n\nThe man walked out, leaving Doctor Patel alone in the room. He wandered back to the far door, and pulled on the heavy steel handle. He walked into the next room, a small affair adorned in the familiar, simple fashion of a hospital room. A young woman sat near the window, her thin frame silhouetted against the morning sun. She turned to look at Doctor Patel as he entered, her hollow cheeks covered over by lean flesh, though it had recently regained the warm colour of health.\n\n“Who are you?” she asked as Doctor Patel entered.\n\nDoctor Patel sighed, and sat heavily in a light plastic chair.\n\n“Amy,” he said with infinite patience, “my name is Doctor Patel. We have met many times. We spoke just a few minutes ago. Do you remember our conversation?”\n\n“No,” Amy answered in confusion.\n\n“Do you remember meeting me before now?” Doctor Patel asked hopefully, though he knew what her answer would be.\n\n“No,” she replied, concern spreading across her face. “I don’t…I don’t remember anything. Why can’t I remember?”\n\nDoctor Patel heaved a great sigh, his heart heavy, and sunk his head into his hands.\n\n“Because, Amy,” he said, “I have cured you.”\n" ]	2
I submitted this to a couple "prompt me" posts but never got a response, maybe someone else can do something with it.	[WP] Ten years ago an eccentric looking gentleman gave you a small locked box with the word "destiny" engraved on the lid. Today you received an envelope with no return address, inside is the combination to the box.	[ "\"Damn these pre-orders are getting ridiculous!\", I thought as I opened the box. Inside was a card with a keycode to download the software, a cloth map of the moon, and a little figurine of a \"ghost\". Entering the keycode into the console it started downloading the software. A progress bar appeared with a time. \"47 hours? Great. Oh well whats a couple days wait after 10 years?\" I put on my hat to head to the store, it was time to load up on Doritos and Orange Shasta for the marathon ahead.", "For several years I had pondered the meaning of the Destiny Box, as I had taken to calling it.\n\n\nThe old man still is stuck in the back of my mind. He was somewhat overweight, with a beard. But he didn't look old enough to be Santa.\n\n\nWhatever. That was ten years ago, and the Destiny Box remained closed. Until today, when I found the envelope with a combination.\n\n\nI saw it, an knew what it was. I walked to the box, spinning the dial. Finally, I thought, finally! I'll know what's inside! Yes!\n\nI looked inside, my mouth agape.\n\nInside was the Ace of Spades, with three addresses, and three times, written down on it, with YOU ARE THE MESSENGER written on the back.", "You may remember my post on /r/WhatsInThisThing/ almost a year ago.\n\n.\n\n\nTen years ago, some kids threw a rock and hit my brother’s head. Josh went to the hospital and had some stitching. He came back from the hospital with a black metal box in his hand. He just said some guy dressed like a patient gave it to him and said not to try and open it until 2013. \n\n\n.\n\n\nThe box was locked with the word “destiny” engraved on the lid. We kept in the attic. Frankly, we forgot about it until September 2013 when Josh received a letter with a combination to the box.\n\n.\n\n\nWe posted the photos and told our story on reddit. The topic reached the front page. Some people doubted our story. Some said it was just a marketing scheme of a new perfume called ‘Destiny’. People got pissed when we did not deliver the result. I received so many hate mails that I had to delete my account. I’m here to tell you now that we did open the box back in September 2013. This is the true event that happened after that.\n\n.\n\n\nJosh opened the box. There was a loaded handgun inside with a map. There was writing on the map that says “go to XXXX campus, Sept 17th, 11.00h”. It gave me a goose bumps and I wanted nothing to do with it. We put the gun and the map back in the box.\n\n\n.\n\n\n\nIn the morning of Sept 17th, I woke up around noon. My brother wasn’t there. I figured he had left for work. In fact, Josh was at the XXXX with the gun. He felt strangely drawn to the place. His ‘destiny’ was waiting for him there. He reached the campus ground. He heard gun shots from inside one of the buildings. There were bodies on the ground and so much blood. He didn’t know that blood could be that bright red. He heard gun shots again but this time he knew that it came from building A as one window got shattered. \nHe tried to call the police but his call didn’t go through. At this point in time, he knew that it was his destiny to go inside the building. \n\n\n.\n\n\nHe saw Timmy, his buddy from elementary school though they haven’t talked since junior high. Timmy was holding a handgun much like his. Timmy also carried a short gun on his back. Timmy looked up at him. “Hi, Josh” and quickly looked back at a girl on the floor with his gun pointed at her head. She was badly injured and kept saying “why?” “why?”. \n\n\n“Timmy, WTF, put down the gun” Josh said.\n\n“Why don’t you join me?” Timmy said without looking at him\n\n“Why are you doing this?”\n\n“Why not?” Timmy answered and said “I’m not gonna stop. So you gonna have to shoot me”\n\n“No”\n\n“Pick you side, Josh” “10… 9…8…7…6”\n\n“No”\n\n“1” Timmy shot the girl in the head. And then pointed the gun at Josh.\n\n“10…9…8..”\n\n\n.\n\n\n\nBoth guns were fired. Timmy got one in the chest and collapsed. Josh got hit in his abdomen. \n\n\n.\n\n\n\nTimmy coughing up blood, he said “just like what the message in the box says”\n\nJosh: You also got a box?”\n\nTimmy “Why didn’t you choose me?”\n\nTimmy “Do you know the Pandora box?”\n\nJosh: “Yes”\n\nTimmy “Who do you think we are?, one of the demons or the hope” \n\n“I think you just kill the hope, Josh”\n\n\n.\n\n\n\nAs Josh was dying, he took out his cell phone and prayed to all things that Holy that his call would go through. \n\n\n.\n\n\nHe called me and told me the story. He told me to tell our parents that they shouldn’t believe everything on the news, and that their son was a hero, and that he loved them very much. \n", "I never really liked where I worked, where I lived, who I lived with, the car I drove or the boots that fit me just a little too tightly. Trapped is the feeling that comes to mind; a jail of my own making.\n\n\nBut I am the one who made it. \n\n\nI sat the letter on the table across from me and drew a crushed, damp, pack of marlboros and a navy blue bic from my pocket. \"Goddamnit,\" I mumbled, and pulled a crumpled cigarette to my lips. \"My destiny box huh?\" I let out a faint chuckle and lit up, took a long drag and watched the smoke drift listlessly into the fading orange light of the day. \n\n\nAnd there it loomed, the address I loathed staring up at me from the frayed, plain, white envelope. \n\n\nI never did put much stock in predetermination. Thinking there was some great plan that someone had, whether I wanted it or not. I probably wouldn't have opened the damned thing anyway. I don't know what happened to the box: probably lost in a move, or stolen by a drunken roommate. But as I sat there the pieces started to come together; My destiny wasn't here.", "He focuses intently. All sensation is lost. His vision narrows, his hearing dims. The ratty chair to his right, the torn up sofa to his left, fade into black oblivion. He clutches the letter in his callused old hand, a hand colored by years and years of crushing labor, always waiting for the wave of Destiny to crash upon him and carry his life into the realm of fantasy. The letter is of a make not seen for many years; thick creamy paper, hand laid by bald monks working by moonlight in the highest reaches of the most sacred Mountain of the Himalayas. The ink is as deep a black as the night sky, yet less mysterious and more sinister. The penmanship is exquisite, clearly graced by a true artisan's touch. His eyes twitch, his feet shake, and in a sudden frenzy of anger tinged with a hint of orgasmic trepidation he destroys the envelope to reveal a series of numbers. He twists the box's dial, living the stress of ten years between each tiny click. The lock stops turning. The box pops open with a slight puff of the most miniscule dust. The man stood up and flattens himself against his wall, refusing to confront that which he had most wanted for the past decade; a reason to live, some direction for his life so cluttered with the insufferable minutiae of life and work and taxes and children. He squared his shoulders, drawing up every mote of courage in his tired heart, and opened the box. It is empty. The man laughs, first softly, then with real gusto, and finally so hard he worries he is going to have a heart attack, colored by madness. He rushes upstairs to his bedroom and dashes around his stained mattress, his chipped wardrobe, and finally reaches his nightstand hammered together from scrap lumber so many years ago that it looks just as tired as the man. He reaches into the top drawer, and retrieves his father's 0.45. It has one bullet in the chamber. Thats all he'll ever need. In the moment that the man raises the aged weapon to his head, he is filled with a wave of peace and serenity, as he is aware that for better or worse, the Rat Race of Life has finally ended.", "Everything was on the table, ready for your weekly routine. Clean needle, lighter, the last of the product you had left before you have to resupply. You know that what you’re about to do is wrong, but you’re doing this for the last time, as a farewell to your routine. You deserve it tonight though, you’ve worked hard all week. You knew that your father would be disappointed if he saw you in this state, so it was a good thing he wasn’t around. The last time you saw him was when you were a child. He just laid there in the casket as you told him how much you miss him, told him to come back, and finally promised him you’d grow up to be just like him. “This is the last time, dad”. You’ve been saying this every week for the past year, but it’s become comfortable to at least verbalize it, just to show you meant it. You open the small baggy and pour the last of the brown powder into the rusty spoon. Same process every week. Tonight was the same as last week except for one thing, the letter you opened today. Not one of the usual bills, but a real letter that had no address, only the word Destiny on the front. As the flame from the lighter begins liquefying the contents, you glance over at the box. \n\n“What’s in the box?” you remember asking the man ten years ago. It was just a small box, no larger than both your hands put together, with the word Destiny engraved on the lid. You knew it probably wasn't safe to accept things from strangers, but there was just something about this man that you trusted. It could have been the bright yellow ducks on his tie, or his circular spectacles, or maybe the smell of cinnamon that you reminded you of your mother’s cinnamon biscuits. But no, the thing you remember the most is the way he talked to you. It was like he’s known you all your life. His words comforted you, made you feel like everything would be okay, something you haven’t felt in too long. You felt like he could tell the future because he was just so certain of each word he told you, yet there was warmth in the way he spoke to you. That was the last time you saw the man. \n\nYou stare at the letter in your hands with the box resting on your knees. You’ll just shoot up after opening the box; maybe it’ll be more of what you need, save you the money. You laugh. You’ve tried so many times to pry off the tiny lock that’s on the box, but tonight you’ll finally see what’s inside.\n\nYou turn the dials on the lock according to the numbers in the letter. You feel excitement and hope. After keeping it for all these years, finally a payoff. \n\nYou open the box, and you see your own pair of light-brown eyes staring back at you. Your heart sinks. “What were you hoping for, idiot?” It’s a mirror, just big enough that you can only see your eyes when you look into it. You were hoping tonight might be different, but it was turning out to be the exact same. You were so curious that you kept it for ten long years, and now it was like a big joke that took ten years for the punchline to hit you in the gut. You laugh again. \n\nAs you are closing the box, you notice something carved into the underside of the lid that you didn’t see before, and it reads; from, dad. \n", "0, 4, 0, 0, 1\n\nThe small, pine box had been meticulously crafted. The edges all matched, the feet were attached well, and the hinges had been very well lubricated. It had been years since Matt had even thought about the box, but even through a couple of moves, and some hard times, Matt kept the box. On the lid was the singular word \"Destiny\". Underneath it was a symbol that reminded Matt a bit of a loading wheel, but it had an arrow at the \"top\" of it.\n\nHaley was out at the mall, and would be for several more hours.\n\nMatt read the letter once more.\n\n> Patron,\n\n> You may remember me, but if not, there's no need to fret. As this box was passed on to me, so too was it passed on to you. Now, it is time to reveal the purpose of the box. Inside, you will find something unfathomable to the human mind. As such, it is with a bit of regret, but indeed a great amount of hope that I give you the combination.\n\n> From left to right, you should align the numbers into the following code: 0, 4, 0, 0, 1.\n\n> Try to do a better job than I did. Good luck.\n\nMatt was still confused. He set the letter on the coffee table. Staring at the box, Matt was acutely aware that his heart had began beating very fast. His normally steady hands began shaking as he reached forward. Setting them on the lid, Matt closed his eyes and tried to quell his uncharacteristic nervousness.\n\nA minute went by and the lid had not come off. Matt opened his eyes. It would be so easy to just throw the lid open, were it not for the strange letter.\n\n> *BRRRRT BRRRRT* New Message From: Boo Boo Baer Hay ;) ;)\n\n> The mall was so packed today!! I could hardly even move! I'm on the way back to the apartment, I'll just get what I need online. Should I grab us some lunch?\n\nMatt stared down at his phone. I have to do it before she gets here. What if this thing is dangerous?\n\n> No, that's okay. I ate.\n\nWhy did I just say that?\n\n> *BRRRRT BRRRRT* New Message From: Boo Boo Baer Hay ;) ;)\n\n> Great because I'm here!\n\nMatt opened the door just as Haley had been reaching for it. She looked at him, her smile as big as it always was, with her straight, paper-white teeth showing. His face was crunched, as if trying to comprehend some complex quantum physics of which he had no knowledge.\n\n\"What's up?\" She asked, her smile vanishing.\n\n\"A letter came today. Didn't say who it was from, but it had instructions on how to open the box\"\n\n\"Really?! That's great! It's always bugged me, that thing. Let's go open it!\"\n\nShe practically ran to the couch and plopped down, absolutely buzzing with excitement.\n\nMatt resumed his seat and looked at her. She looked back. Her smile had returned. In unison they each set one hand on their side of the box, Haley on the left, Matt on the right.\n\n\"On three\" she said, looking at him.\n\n\"On three or after three?\" He couldn't help but laugh, despite how serious this might be.\n\nRolling her eyes, Haley said \"We'll go '1, 2, 3' and then open it after we're finished saying three\"\n\nMatt nodded his head in agreement.\n\n\"1\" She counted.\n\nShe doesn't have any idea what this thing is! Why are we doing this?! Why are we doing this here?!\n\n\"2\" He counted.\n\nIt's too late now. Good thing I already proposed I guess...\n\n\"3\" They said together.\n\nA flash of light, and a sudden rushing pulled them both into the depths of the six inch by eight inch box. The lid slammed shut, and they were plunged into darkness. It was a darkness so dark that nothing could be seen - darkness so dark that it almost felt like Matt's bones were being crushed by all of the darkness that surrounded him.\n\nThere was nothing. Matt would have said they were floating, but he couldn't tell which way was which.\n\nHe tried calling out to Haley, but his voice was broken. Instead, somehow, she answered him in his own brain.\n\n\"Matt, what is this?!\"\n\n\"I don't know\" he thought back to her.\n\nInexplicably, they were seated in large chairs. Neither of them could have said what they were made of, but they were comfortable. Matt's sense of direction suddenly returned to him. A dim light shone from somewhere above, it's source unknown, casting about them a small oval of yellow.\n\nIn front of them, some distance away, gigantic letters appeared and were accompanied by a voice. It resonated all around them, despite nothing to bounce off of or amplify from.\n\n\"Welcome. Name?\"\n\nHaley, looked to Matt, who responded with his.\n\n\"Good. And your companion?\"\n\n\"Haley\" she said.\n\n\"Good. Matt, and Haley. Creators of universe zero four zero zero one. Let's begin, we have much work to do and only ten quintillion years to do it.\"\n\nThis has to be some kind of joke, a dream... SOMETHING!! This is not normal!\n\n\"Wait.\" Matt said. \"What is your name?\"\n\n\"My name is ten-seventeen Shameful Object.\"\n\n\"What is this place?\" Matt said, raising his voice.\n\n\"This is your universe, Creator. You have been selected for creation. It is a bit odd however that you chose to bring a companion. Most do not.\"\n\n\"We're going to be creating a universe?\" Haley asked, skeptical.\n\n\"All infinity cubic light-years of it, or however much you deign acceptable.\"\n\n\"Well, we don't know how to create a universe.\" Matt said hotly.\n\n\"That is why I am here to assist you. I shall guide your creation. All decisions however, rest solely in your hands.\"\n\nMatt and Haley looked at each other once again. Consternation covered her face; confusion covered his.\n\nShe laughed and he said \"Let's begin\"", "The box itself was quite ornate: a lovely obsidian black with swirling designs etched along the outside, with a single brilliant red ruby embedded on the front. None of that really mattered, however. It wasn't the outside that was interesting. It was what had been locked away inside that would really catch my eye.\n\nI had received the box quite some time ago, about 10 years if I had to guess. It was locked with a combination lock. I didn't have the willpower to try my hand at figuring out the combination, but for some reason I had the willpower to hold on to the damned thing for 10 years.\n\nToday began normally enough; until the letter came. It was the only letter that came. No spam, no chinese food menus, nothing. Nothing but this. And inside it read: Thank you for holding on to the box. The combination is 4, 1, 2, 9, 7. Enjoy.\n\nLooking back, I'm not quite sure how the writer knew I still kept the box. Fortunately, it wasn't hidden away or anything. I kept it in the dining room. How could I not? It was a beautiful box, and an interesting conversation starter, to boot.\n\nI sat down at my dining room table, box in one hand, letter in the other. The clock read 9:12 PM. I figured I should record the time of opening; this may be an exciting point in my life! The TV had been blaring, focused on a news story of a prison escapee. I turned it off, this box was the real news. I opened the box and, to my dismay, paper quite literally exploded from it. There was so much, it was baffling to me as to how it all fit inside. I grabbed one and began reading:\n\nSeptember 14th, 2007 - Watched reruns of Spongebob with the kids for a fair portion of the day. Their mother picked them up later in the evening after being served supper.\n\nThat... sounded familiar. I grabbed another:\n\nJune 26th, 2009 - Attended Jake's Middle School Graduation. Chatted up one of the single mothers there. The Janitor's Closet proved useful. Upon leaving the closet, the once single mother suddenly donned her wedding ring again. Embarrassing, to say the least.\n\nNow, this, I remembered. I told this story often -- was somebody watching me? But... no, that's not possible. I got this box in 2004, how could there be entries for 2007? For 2009? Did this box hold my future?\n\nI began violently throwing papers out of the box, looking to prematurely glance at my future. I found the last page:\n\nAugust 3rd, 2014 - A letter arrived for the box that was received 10 years ago. Upon opening the box, its contents were studied. At the end of the reading, a crash was heard. Someone broke through the window. The man who escaped from prison killed him.\n\n...What? No, no, no... this can't be the last page, that's absurd, these things don't just happen to people, do they? No, of course not, this box must be some weird hoax! Maybe someone was just entering parts in every day or something! This is a prank, a stupid, drawn out, pr--\n\nThat's when I heard the crash.\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nDo be gentle, this is my first story! I hope you enjoyed it!", "I slammed the lid shut again. The chair fell away behind me as I did all I could to get away from it. The combination was still in my hand, written on some thin bit of yellowed old paper.\n\n\nMy back struck the wall opposite to the window ledge I had lay the box on. I tried to think, tried to conjure up any single thought or word of reason in my mind and nothing came, nothing but the image burned across every synapse. \n\n\n\"Hey, what the hell are you doing?!\" I had shouted across the forecourt, smokes and petrol receipt in hand as the automatic doors slid closed behind me.\n\n\nSome old man had just opened up my trunk, he was dressed in what looked like dirty old rags draped over a sharp new suit. His beard was patchy and his wrinkled face spattered with flecks of dirt, topped off with a pristine white large brimmed hat.\n\n\nHe bent down with a groan and returned upright, with great effort, clutching the small wooden box I had just opened. Then he spoke, as he laid it down with care inside my trunk.\n\n\nI ran over and placed my hand on his shoulder. \"Hey! Would you not?\" I pushed him back as gently as I could and stared him in the eyes. \"Whatever this is, I dont want it, I'm not buying it.\"\n\n\n\"For one to live, another must die.\" He said deadpan. His eyes were a brilliant color, one that seemed in motion with his words and the light of the day. \"A moon to grow, then cycle begins anew. Such is the price of Immortality\" \n\n\n\"The... What?\" I turned and looked into the trunk to see exactly what he had placed inside. The wood was dark and exquisitely carved, but other than that the box was plain save for a dark iron lock looped through a thick ring that held the lid tightly closed.\n\n\nWhen I raised my eyes again, the old man was walking away with a straight back and stride in his gait. \n\n\n\"Hey!?\" I called after him, hesitating to give chase as I contemplated taking the box with me against the risk of taking my eyes off of him to pick it up. \n\n\nMy decision was soon made for me, he stepped out into the rush hour traffic. I saw the SUV coming, I heard its horn and the screech of tires as it braked hard and swerved to miss him. When I reached the SUV at a full sprint there was one thing I knew I would never see or never hear again. \n\n\nThe old man was gone. \n\n\nI let the combination slip from my fingers as I stared at the box, its wood illuminated by the shafts of light spilling in through the window. I remembered what the old man had said but I had long forgotten the notion that I would ever see inside. \n\n\nI crept over, slowly and feeling each foot land in front of the other. The boards creaked as I made my way over. I was as afraid to open the box as I was to leave it closed. The lock had broken in my hand as I entered the combination, and as every violent effort I had made to get inside over the years had failed, I knew that it would never be closed again. \n\n\nThe lid opened smoothly as I peeked through the corners of half closed eyes. Light spread across it as I let the lid open all the way.\n\n\nIt wasn't an it was it. No. It was a he. It was a man. A tiny man in a tiny coffin, though he wasn't dead, I could see his chest rising and falling. \n\n\nThe worst part of it all was I recognized him, I knew his face well. \n\n\nThe little man in the box looked like... No, he was... \n\n\nHe was a tiny Keanu Reeves. \n\n\n\"For one to live another must die.\" The old man's words echoed in my head. \"A moon to grow, then the cycle begins anew. Such is the price of Immortality.\"\n\n\nHis eyes began to flutter, his lips began to move soundlessly and then finally, as his eyes opened and met mine, he spoke. \n\n\n\n\n \n\"Woah.\"" ]	9
	[WP] The last human has withered away at last. Write the eulogy of the Human Race.	[ "A complex species, we were. Some would say we only had one goal, whether it be answering life's unanswered questions, or taking control of everything till it was all under our rule. It didn't matter what our goals were, they always conflicted with someone else's goal. And thus, war would ensue due to these differences. It didn't matter that we were all one species, we always focused on each other's differences. We focused on the wrong thing, we always did. We never focused on uniting as a species, as a planet, as a people. We always focused on what tore us apart. Our natural instincts always led to conflict, and thus nuclear war followed after thousand of years of bitter human history. Almost all of us dead, eventually leading to a few select surviving, and even then we didn't work together. We still killed each other for petty reasons; whether it was for food or shelter, we never shared or worked together. We killed.\n\nBut that is what we always do, it would never change. War would follow again and again, until it came down to me. What did we do wrong? Was this our destiny? To kill and ravage the earth? To destroy it? Yes, it seems like that was our destiny. I hoped that this war that nearly wiped us out would bring us together, but war... War - and human instinct - never changes.", "They began simply. They grew into complex creatures, though, so we shall forget the humble beginnings. As they grew, I watched, and observed. They killed each other for objects, for religions, for whim, for anything. Wars, battles, skirmishes, whatever you wish to call them, they were there. Lots of them. Many lives were lost because of these trivial battles. I had hoped they would grow out of this phase, but they never did. They were always going to be barbarians at heart, with new and better weapons to play with. The atom bomb, nukes, artillery, all these weapons so they could kill and worsen their race. That is why, my friends, that I am proud to have destroyed them, to put them out of their misery. They will never have to conflict with each other ever again. I think that is the greatest gift they could have ever received.", "They started, like many before them with rocks and sticks. Yet unlike most, they ended in an entirely different solar system. Through out the course of Human History, they have been divided and united, pushed to the edge and brought back from it. To the best of their ability, they have survived; through great minds & hearts and the love that they all share within themselves. \n \nAlthough, all great races come to an end. It is only natural and fair, soon the pages of history will forget them and the roads they traveled. \nBut I shall not, I watched them grow into the beings they once dreamt of becoming. I watched them become the people they were terrified of, yet they always accomplished. " ]	3
	[WP] Each day, you wake up with the wisdom of an infant, and as the day progresses, so does your intellect. You have a very important interview at 9 AM.	[ "2 A.M.- I wok up ate midnight. Had to wate untel two am to rite this so motr skils develuped. I dunt no y I was born this wa but I trikd it. I well rite more laetr. Brane uv 5 yeer old.\n\n5 A.M. My spelling is mostly alright now. I like dogs and cannot wait until that new videogame is released. Maybe mom will buy it for me. 11 years old and thankfully I am smarter at this age than some kids. Timmy is not very smart and he is mean to me.\n\n7 A.M. 17 years old. I can't wait until I can move out. I hate my mom. I hate writing this damn journal every day. I only do it because the doctors say it might help me through it. I know this should be the prime of ny life but I'm stuck in a damn 22 year old body. Every 5 years I have to wake up an hour earlier. I hate waking up early. I hope this job is flexible.\n\n9 A.M. Off to the interview. My teenage years took a few liberties. Have to be careful not to doze off, lest my brain will reset. I'll be an infant again. I'll try to only get hours from 9:00am till 4:00. Then I can go home and retire as as a 60 year old man. I don't get much sleep though.\n\nI see 5 year old me mentioned that I learned to trick this terrible disorder but didn't really elaborate. I simply wake up earlier than most people so I can have optimal brain capacity. I'm 22, actually. Physically, I mean.\n\nI'm in the waiting room. A lot of people applie...\n\n-----------\n\n\"Mr. Jones?\"\n\nI cry.\n\n\n", "I've been awake for 96 hours straight for this, only 20 minutes till the interview starts, I will present point per point how this world will be a better place if 1/10th of the population follow three simple rules. I've gained enough mind power over the past two days to make it. Only 15 minutes left. I never felt so tiered, my mind is going so fast my body can barely keep up with it, I will sit for a moment, the girl will prepare me so I don't look like I didn't sleep for the past couple of days.\n\nOh I got a microphone on my vest, this is cool!" ]	2
	[WP] Give the back story on the little boy sitting in the clouds/moon fishing in the DreamWorks opening title.	[ "I used to fish in the creek down by my house. Not to actually catch fish, you understand, it was just to get a quiet place to think. The fish themselves were more of a distraction from thinking. I don't like catching fish, but I can't think properly unless I'm fishing. Strange but true.\n\nAnyway, one day they built a town by the creek near my house. And all day long, people were coming and going, and making a terrible commotion. I couldn't think there any more. So I packed up my fishing rod, and went to look for someplace else.\n\nIt took a while. I looked for a long time. Eventually, I found a spot, down by Constantinople. It's quite a long walk to Constantinople, but I made it. I fished in the sea. And there was less noise, and I caught less fish than I used to, but that was fine. It left me more time to think.\n\nAnd then one day they built a port by the sea at Constantinople. And all day long, boats were coming and going, and making a terrible commotion. I couldn't think there any more either. So I packed up my fishing rod, and I went to look for someplace else.\n\nI went all around the world. But everywhere now, there were towns and ports and factories and mines, and everyone was making noise. I have very sensitive ears, you see. I couldn't find a quiet spot anywhere. Nowhere in the entire world.\n\nSo I went down to the fair, at night-time, just as it was closing. And I bought ten of the biggest, brightest, liftiest balloons you ever saw. And those balloons carried me up, way up into the sky, all the way to the moon. That's where I let them go, and the balloons kept going without me.\n\n(They're still up there. See that patch of stars, all red and yellow and blue? Those are my balloons.)\n\nAnd now I sit on the moon and I fish in the clouds. And there's no noise at all here, and I catch no fish at all. And I've got nothing but time to think.\n\nNow, one day they're going to build a space station by the moon and the clouds. And all day long, rocketships will be coming and going, and making a terrible commotion. And I won't be able to think here any more. And so I'll pack up my fishing rod, and I'll go to look for someplace else.\n\nBut it'll do for now.", "In the not too distant future, \nnext Sunday, A.D. \nThere was a boy named Joel, \nnot too different than you and me. \nHe lived in a little orphanage \nBarely learning our common language \nHe didn’t have a cheerful face \nNo one ever adopted him \nand DreamWorks shot him into space \n\nThey sent him with a fishing pole \nas a sick, twisted joke (la la la) \nYou see there are no fish up there \nJoel’s just their logo (la la la) \nNow keep in mind Joel can’t control \nWhen the movie begins or ends (la la la) \nBecause he is not on the Earth \nBut he is still an orphan \n\nIf you’re wondering how he eats and breathes \nand other science facts (la la la) \nThen repeat to yourself, “It’s just a show, \nI should really just relax \nI miss Mystery Science Theater, 3000!” \n\nEdit: Formatting ", "An excerpt from a story I have been writing over the past couple years\n\n\"Linus, I want to thank you.\" I said as he tended to the campfire. \"If you hadn't been there, I'd probably be dead by now.\" Linus smiled. \n\"It's okay, princess. I'd probably be dead too if you hadn't found me.\" I looked at him and smiled. I don't know why I ever mistrusted him. \n\"Linus, I want to give you something.\" He had finished tending the fire, and came to sit next to me. \n\"What is it?\" I reached into my pocket and pulled out my fathers pendant. \n\"It was something my father gave me before he died. He used to tell me this little fairytale when I was little, whenever he showed me this pendant.\" Linus stared at the pendant, giving off his usual blue aura. \"The tale goes that there was once a kingdom that covered all our lands. The king was weak and wanted to pass the throne to his sons. However, there was a problem. When the eldest would use magic, an evil curse would try to take over him, and so he couldn't use magic for long, otherwise the curse would be complete, and he would turn evil. The King created a purification charm with magic of his own to prevent the curse from consuming the boy too quickly. The king eventually passed away, but the youngest wanted the throne for himself, so overnight he stole the charm. Without the charm, the queen worried that the eldest would become evil, so she did the one thing she could to protect the realm, and she banished the boy to the moon, where he would live to this day.\" Linus had a strange look on his face. \n\"So this is meant to be that charm?\" I smiled and put it around his neck. As soon as I did however, a bright light beam of light shot down from the moon and hit his body, lifting him into the air....\n\nThat's all for now, story is still incomplete.", "“My sweet Jeremy,\n\nYou’ll grow up one day to do grand things. I wish I could be there to see it. Although I can’t be there to hug and love and kiss you myself, I will always be watching over you from above. I’m so sorry it has to be this way.\n\nMy eternal love,\n\nYour mother”\n\nI remember the first time I asked Granma why momma left. Granma said that momma was a lady so broken, she’d swallow fish hooks looking for the last little pieces of her heart left inside. To give to me. But she could never find them, and that’s why she couldn’t ever love me enough.\n\nDon’t think too bad of her little boy, Granma said. Your momma just had a harder life than most. Don’t worry, Granpa would pipe in, God gives everyone a new heart in heaven, so your momma will be waiting for you with all the love in the world when you finally go up.\n\nBut when the Johnson’s dog bit me, and I found myself up there a lot sooner than spected, momma wasn’t there. A lady with wings told me that people who try to come up to heaven before their time is up, can’t.\n\nCourse I asked, ma’am, why not? She looked sad and said it’s because they can’t find their way. They get lost. \n\nHmm. What if I found her and brought her up? Little one, you can’t leave.\n\nI thought long and hard about how I’d see my momma again. I see folk go all the way down to the moon sometimes, ma’am, can’t I go down there?\n\nI don’t see why not.\n\nThank you ma’am, I said, and I puffed up my chest and slung my pole over my shoulder. Time for some fly-fishin. I’m gonna catch me a momma.\n", "I thought I had created the perfect fishing pond. For as long as I could remember I hooked into massive beast after massive beast. Wonderfully large reptilian looking creatures that stalked the land, and massive aquatic monsters from the depths of the oceans. My rod was always bent, my arms always sore and drained from a long day of battle. Sadly, time is the destroyer of all things, and my pond began to die. \n \nThe fishing just isn't the same. I catch just as much, but everything is smaller and nothing fights. The great oceans still offer some fun, but there are times where I go days with nothing worthy of the challenge. The land that once held such frightening lizards now only gives me voracious minnows that destroy my gear. My wonderful pond has been overrun and destroyed. \n \nPerhaps one day time will restore it to what it once was. \n\nEdit: I've wondered what it would be like fishing from the moon for creatures on Earth over time. Would be fun :)", "They still talk about me on earth you know... They tell my story like I did something wrong.\n\nYeah, I wanted to touch the sun; everyone does though, whether they know it or not.\n\nThey say I was blinded by pride, they are wrong, I was blinded by truth. People think that being blinded by truth is a contradiction, that truth only makes your sight more clear, but it doesn't work like that. Earth is a world of shadows, the closer to the sun you get the more blind you appear to humans. \n\nAny-hoo yeah... I try not to get all pseudo-poetic like this, but the fact of the matter is when my wings melted I didn't fall to my death, I fell into the heavens.\n\nSo here I am, some sort of angelic guardian with nothing but an eternity of freedom, a fishing lure and a dank ass bad of ganja.. Life is good.\n\n/r/PsychoWritingPrompts ", "\"Well since you kids have been helping me milk the cows all day, I guess I could tell you a story-\"\n\n\"How about the one about the man on the moon?\" Leaf asked.\n\nOld man Amerias looked almost surprised for a second, even at the notion that people still heard about that tale. \"Well...I'm not sure...\"\n\n\"Please?\" Leaf and cherry said almost at once.\n\nAmerias took off his cracked glasses and began to rub them clean with a raggedy handkerchief. He sighed and said \"Well I suppose you'll hear the legend at one point, so it might as well be from me.\"\n\nIt also started where most of the ancients tales start, in the land before. The world that the gods once looked upon as beautiful, slowly turned into a mess of war and hate. One of the gods, Nin, decided he needed to go down to the lands and teach them the ways of their ancestors and how they lived together in peace and harmony.\n\nAnd this probably would of saved the world of the land before if it wasn't for his son, Nimbus the fishermen, who was very ignorant and believed the people of the land before deserved nothing but a quick death for defiling the land that they made for them. \n\nHe tried everything to convince his father not to go down their, out of fear that the people will try and take his power and use it for their own needs. Nin agreed that while they could be dangerous, there would also be people with hearts bigger than the land itself. \n\nNimbus quickly panicked and began to send his worshipers around the land and kills as many people as possible. This sparked fights, which led to battles, which led to all out war across the land. Within a short time the earth was scorched and desolate of life.\n\nThe gods quickly realized who was responsible and captured him. The gods looked to Nin as he should decide how his son would be punished. Although most of the suggestions were to execute him or send him to a world in the black beyond, Nin came to an ultimate conclusion. He trapped his son Nimbus on the moon, with the task of collecting the souls of all those who died by his irrational decision using his fishing rod. \n\nNin came to another conclusion, that he needed to be punished as well. Despite the other gods claiming it wasn't necessary, Nin insisted on it. As he felt responsible for Nimbus's decision, as he was his father. So went to the scorched landscape in the hopes he could return life to it.\n\nSome say his tears made the four oceans and that his resting body made the grand mountains of the east. Either way, it is still believed he and the survivors of the land before are our ancestors.\n\nThe two children looked up at him in awe. \"Is it true?\" Cherry asked. \n\nAmerias chuckled slightly. \"I'm not sure, cherry. It could be. With what I've seen in my life time anything could be possible.\"\n\n\"What have you seen in your lifetime?\" Leaf asked. " ]	7
	[WP] Man in busy metropolis walks into crowded grocery store, buys ... groceries. When he walks out, the parking lot is desolate. About a half-mile radius is now covered in a bubble, he can see just blurry images outside of it, people have surrounded it. He is suddenly the only one inside.	[ "Large blue numbers flashed on the surface of the bubble that now encased him, and instantly thousands of thoughts rushed through his mind, Why did they choose me? What did I do? Why? WhY? WHY??\n\nThe numbers slowly flashed 98...97...96...\n\nQuickly he rummaged through his bags until he found a knife he had purchased for his wife, she was making stew tonight.\n\nThe numbers flashed on 83...82...81...\n\nSlowly he stood, he could just barely make out some of the faces on the outside... horror, concentration.. all the looks he had gotten were not happy, but looks of sorrow and mourning.\n\nThe numbers got lower 55...54...53\n\nHe know soon... they would come. Tightly he gripped the knife and prayed to whatever god existed above.\n\nThe last digits 3........2......1.......\n\nLike a cannon blast a voice spoke out from above, commanding the attention of all listening, This man has been sentenced to death by Aeria. The crime committed... thievery.\n\nSweat broke out against the mans forehead, It had to come to this eventually.. I couldn't keep it up forever. \n\nAs three large birds swooped into the bubble from above, converging on the man, a woman on the outside yellled, Robinhood!", "The sun was shining through the slightly tinted windows of his sedan when he pressed the start button. It was one of those modern cars with automatic lights and automatic transmission and automatic seats. Even the trunk door opened automatically. He wondered how long it would take for technology to eliminate even the last bit of manual work involved in driving and hoped that day would come soon. He remembered when he had bought his first car. It had been complete scrap, but he had loved working on it when it broke down. It had done so every few months and that's how he had gotten the knowledge needed to start his workshop. He had worked from morning until late into the night every day for years and he had loved it. But now that moving hurt and his eyesight was loosing against the forces of age he just wanted to relax.\n\nSuddenly he realized that he had just sat there for a few minutes. Ashamed he had let the engine run for so long he began searching for possible spectators. He looked to his left where the shop was. On it's wall was an advertisement for biodegradable bags. This didn't really make him feel better. What did was the fact that indeed nobody appeared to have observed his mishap simply because the parking lot was completely empty. As he drove off he wondered for just how long he had sat there because the sun also seemed to get weaker.\n\nWhen he arrived home the first thing he did was look for his dog. He could really not remember if he had taken it to the store or not. After not finding it for quite some time he decided to go back to the store and look there. Shaking his head about his own stupidity he got into the car and backed out of the garage. It was a long drive to the store and he simply took it because he had always shopped there when he had had his workshop. Halfway there he wondered what he had wanted to buy at the store but figured that he would have taken a shopping list from home and would look for it when he had arrived. Unfortunately the shop was already closed and he cursed himself for not looking at the time before he had left home. It could have been worse though because there was very little traffic. He wondered why there were so many cars just standing in the middle of the road but city traffic had always been weird to him. At home, while pouring the dog food, he remembered that he had given that damn thing to his sister for the week and yet again shook his head. He really was getting old. It was quite dark outside already so after eating what little food he had left in his home after his failed trip to the store he went to bed.\n\n\n\n**I'm very tired but I'll continue tomorrow if anyone is interested." ]	2
	[WP] The common objects on your desk are trying to solve a mystery.	[ "\"These water bottles, they're all... Empty...\"\n\n\"It's horrifying, GP. But it's just another Tuesday to me.\"\n\n\"You're a calculator, I'm a gamepad. You've been around longer than I have... Back to work.\"\n\n\"Hey, I've found something! They look like they have bite marks on them... Big ones.\"\n\n\"Seems that they've been torn apart a little, too. Grisly.\"\n\n\"Maybe it's that guy who stares at the screen all day?\"\n\n\"....Couldn't be... I hope.\"\n\n\"Hey, we know he needs to drink, and they were filled with water.\"\n\n\"He's faster and bigger than them. Stronger, too. That could explain why they're maimed.\"\n\n\"...Lemme get a swab.\"\n\n\n1 week later...\n\n\n\"You were right, pal. It's the human.\"\n\n\"Wow, can we do anything about it? He'll torture and kill us all if we confronted him...\"\n\n\"We can tell him to buy some gum and to clean up after himself.\"\n\n\"Sounds like a plan, but how about we do it after lunch? It's 3 PM and I am starving.\"\n\n\"Subway?\"\n\n\"I was thinking that family-owned place down the road today. How about it?\"\n\n\"Sounds like a plan, my friend. Let's get Old Timer and go.\"\n\n\"I call shotgun!\"", "Cupcake Candle exhaled. The smoke from his cigarette billowed into the stagnant office air.\n\n\"What we got here,\" he muttered, \"is a good, old-fashioned murder.\"\n\nLined Post-It Pad began to tremble. \"Ain't been a murder in years, Candle,\" he whispered. \"What happened?\"\n\nCupcake Candle sighed. \"We all knew Blue PaperMate .7 ran his mouth too much. It was just a matter of time.\"\n\nThey stared at the body. Blue's lower half was severed from the upper. His innards, the long tube full of his flashy blue ink, lay a few inches away. The clicking mechanism at the top appeared chewed on.\n\n\"What kind of monster chews on the body?\" gasped Pad. Candle frowned. Pad was too sensitive for this type of work anymore. He'd seen too much, been broken too many times. He was too many pages short of a full pad, and there was no getting those memos back.\n\n\"We're gonna find out,\" said Candle. \"We owe him that.\"\n\nThey entered the Drawer. It was an after-hours type of place, full of arrogant stamps dependent on the Ink. Some were running low; those desperate types were dangerous.\n\n\"Can I help you?\" asked Entered AP. He was one of the twins, and his brother, Posted AP, was never far away. The brutes were huge, and always hopped up on too much red Ink. It made them wild, unpredictable.\n\n\"We need to see E-Mailed,\" said Candle. He felt Pad quivering beside him. He nudged him roughly.\n\nEntered shook his head. \"No time for you,\" he growled. \"He's busy.\"\n\n\"He's not busy,\" snapped Candle. \"The Woman hasn't even scanned the packets yet, she won't need him for hours. I've watched.\"\n\nEntered crabbed Candle. \"You think I'm lying?\" Suddenly Posted AP was next to Entered. The two formed a thuggish wall, and Candle was ready to cut his wick and run if he needed to. Pad wouldn't make it far.\n\n\"Cut it out,\" drawled E-Mailed. \"They're fine.\"\n\nE-Mailed was a small stamp, but he knew he ran this show. His word was law. He was the definitive proof for the Woman, the final word in her documentation trail.\n\n\"Been a while, Cupcake,\" E-Mailed grinned. \"What do you want?\"\n\nCupcake frowned. \"You heard about Blue?\"\n\nE-Mailed stopped grinning. \"Yeah, we all heard about Blue. But we all knew he had it coming. Couldn't keep his trap shut, always scribbling notes.\"\n\nCupcake nodded. \"All the same, he's dead. And we want to know why.\"\n\nE-Mailed stared at Cupcake. He was always business, this stamp. Business was his only modus operandi. \n\n\"What's in it for me?\"\n\n\"We don't investigate your sudden surplus of Blue ink right after a murder.\"\n\nThat caught his attention. \"You know the Woman isn't the only one at that desk, right?\"\n\n\"Tell me something I don't know.\"\n\nE-Mailed smiled again. \"Maybe you should look for something a little...different. Something a bit out of place. I'd check Keyboard if I was you.\"\n\nCupcake turned to leave, Pad close behind him. \n\n\"Cupcake!\" E-Mailed called. Cupcake glanced back at the small stamp.\n\n\"This isn't going to end well,\" E-Mailed said. \"You're not going to like what you find.\"\n\nCupcake turned back towards the Drawer's exit. \"I never do,\" he said.\n\nThey crossed back to the edge of Keyboard. Cupcake scanned the edges of the silver device. She was asleep, for now. She relied on the Woman for power, just like the rest of the electronics.\n\n\"Beautiful, as always,\" whispered Cupcake. He'd loved her for so long. But she was a finicky dame, only responding to the Woman. Too proud, and he knew it. \n\nSuddenly he saw it. The glint of yellow, barely visible against the pale blond wood of the desk. It would've been impossible to see in the early morning hours without E-Mailed's hint.\n\nCupcake pushed Keyboard out of the way. \"Help me out here, Pad,\" he yelled. But Pad was standing inches away, quaking in fear. Cupcake ignored him. He'd have to get Pad help after this. \n\nCupcake saw the note fully after he'd pushed Keyboard away. It wasn't the Woman's handwriting. It read:\n\n\"Amanda, Please order paper towels for the men's restroom. Thanks! -Sarah\"\n\n\"The cleaning crew...\" Cupcake gasped. The cleaner had always used Blue to leave the notes, but Sarah was the new gal. \"She must've chewed on Blue, some humans do it out of habit. But why take him apart? Why not put him back?\"\n\nCupcake stared at the note for minutes before he understood what he was really looking at. It was a Post-It. And it was lined.\n\nHe spun around to Pad. \"Pad?!\" he growled. \"What did you do?!\"\n\nPad was edging closer to the edge of the desk. \"He was screaming, Cupcake, he wouldn't stop!\" Pad was panting in fear. \"I couldn't listen anymore, he kept screaming that she bit him, and that I'd let her do it! She used my Post-It, so Blue thought I was in on it! He was screaming so loud at me, Cupcake, I had to stop him!\"\n\nCupcake moved towards Pad slowly. \"Easy, buddy, it's okay. It's going to be okay. Just come with me, we'll be fine. We'll get you help.\"\n\nPad shook frantically. \"I won't do it anymore, Cupcake! I won't help!\" Pad stopped shaking. His eyes widened as he looked at Cupcake. \"I liked it, Cupcake,\" he whispered. \"I liked taking him apart. I liked pulling out his ink tube. I'll do it again. You've got to stop me.\"\n\n\"I won't,\" Cupcake begged. \"You're my best friend, Pad, please.\"\n\nPad pulled out the box cutter. \"I'll cut Keyboard's cord, Cupcake!\" He was manic, frenzied in his sudden loss of sanity. \n\n\"Pad, stop!\" Cupcake screamed. Pad rushed at Keyboard, still asleep in her power-deprived state. Cupcake charged him. They collided, and tumbled to the edge of the desk. Cupcake grabbed the box cutter and stabbed Pad in the center of his lined frame. He stabbed him twice, then three times, then four. \n\nThe box cutter clattered to the side. Cupcake was sobbing. Pad had a smile on his face. He'd finally calmed down.\n\n\"Thank you...\" Pad whispered. Cupcake held him until he was gone. He heard a clatter; the humans were here. He quickly dropped the Woman's box cutter into her drawer where she kept it, then climbed back onto his place at the base of the monitor. He stared at the body of his only friend, his partner. \n\nThey all had a breaking point, he thought. Every one of them in the force had their limit. Pad had reached his that evening. Cupcake's was now. He'd climb into the trashcan the next night the cleaning crew came and never look back.\n\nAmanda frowned. There was ink everywhere. \"What the hell happened to my pen...?\"" ]	2
	[WP] Eons forward, the purpose of life is to construct the next universe before yours collapses. A truly random selection is made to determine who shall reign as 'god' in this next reality. Your name has come up.	[ "Tom was... enthusiastic. \n\nHe walked around the facility clutching a clipboard and scribbling feverish notes while occasionally brushing his long, black bangs away from his eyes.\n\n\"Ok, well, John,\" said Tom, in an increasingly sarcastic tone, \"I am the one making the decisions now, right? And I say we need those elements - whatever they're called - that makeup barley. Oh, and hops - I like a nice hoppy flavor. Don't you?\"\n\nJohn senses his moment to chime in, \"Tom, this is quite -\"\n\n\"Don't you say it - don't you even say it you...\"\n\n\"Now, hold on your majesty. Remember what they told you about insults? You get, like, five of them, then you are penalized from your position for a millenium. You know what could happen in a thousand years right? Remember the elephant wasps?\"\n\n\"Jesus, don't remind me. Look, I just want this to play out properly. We need those ingredients. Oh, by the way, did you research the LSD particles?\", Tom clapped his hands together like an excited little girl.\n\nJohn stopped in his tracks and just glared, \"No. I have not.\"\n\n\"Man, what are you thinking? We have to get going on this. It's of the upmost, my friend. Ok, ok, what about the cannabis? I mean surely you've got the cannabis all set up right?\"\n\n\"Yessssss, Tom\", John was becoming increasingly perturbed by the inane requests, \"your majesties cannabis machine is functioning properly. Didn't see much harm in that, especially since the Earth trials of 2026.\"\n\n\"Wait. Oh, mate. Don't tell me. You - you're jealous! All this time I thought it was just some obscure morality play you were putting on.\"\n\n\"Jealous?\", John fired back, insulted, \"jealous of what exactly? Drug World as you call it? For your information, the role of Supreme Being is an important position that is to be taken quite seriously. One can't just go around creating a universe of drugs.\"\n\n\"Why on earth not?\", demanded Tom. \"Maybe that's what was wrong with the last Universe. I mean look, the human race was only on the planet for a few thousand years before they started making their own bongs out of rotted tree limbs and animal bones. And in the end, what was it they were always bitching about?\" Tom paraded about with over exaggerated hand gestures, \"Oh, we have to get rid of the drugs! For the children! Just say NO children. Drugs will kill you and turn you into a retarded zombie ass wrangler.\"\n\n\"All right, all right, point taken\", said John while trying to get further away.\n\n\"No no, you don't get out of it that easy. So they say no to drugs, they declare war on drugs. The whole time they're just so pent up with aggression and anger and sexual frustration. The whole time, they are building weapons out of sheer frustration. Just to blow each other to hell and back. You call that success? Do you really want to repeat that?\"\n\n\"Ok,\" conceded John, \"but aren't you forgetting all the good things? Like the Large Hadron Collider, modern medicine, art and music?\"\n\n\"Bloody hell, I haven't forgotten. What do you take me for, a fool? We'll have even better arts and music. Creativity will abound endlessly all over the fucking place. Why? Because everyone will be fucked up out of their minds! You can't say no to air, right? Can you say 'no' to bacteria? Fuck no! Because it's everywhere, right? Drugs everywhere! It's the basic fundamental law of the new universe. You can fuckin' avoid it. Isn't it great?\"\n\nThe whole while, Richard eavesdropped on their conversation. Disgusted that Tom, of all people, would soon realize his own vision of the Drugverse. God, he thought to himself, Tom was such a fool. The world wasn't screwed up because of a lack of drugs. The humans killed each other over a lack of something much more fundamental. Sex. \n\nWhy, thought Richard, why was he unable to convince the tribunal of the natures primary concern. Why couldn't he unveil to the others his righteous plan of passion and promiscuity? What Richard labeled, the Whoreverse. What asshole dreams of making biological weapons while getting a sloppy blowjob? \n\nAll is not lost though. In his lab, Richard had concocted what no one else had previously been able to reverse engineer: Lysergic Acid Diethylamide Syntheses. Better known as the new lord Tom's drug of choice, LSD. And it was in very short supply. Maybe, just maybe, he and his new lord could become friends. Partners in the new realm of universe building. Where the resourceful, and the powerful scratch each other's itches. \n\n\n", "\"So I'll be....\"\n\n\"Immortal. Yes.\"\n\n\"I wasn't going to say that.\" \n\n\"You'll take as active a role as you desire in this new reality.\" \n\n\"Will I have hands?\"\n\n\"If you desire.\" \n \n\"Can I take anything with me?\"\n\n\"Anything you want. You'll also be able to create anything you desire.\"\n\n\"I'm not a good choice.\"\n\n\"It was a random selection of everyone. We thought we would call-\"\n\n\"I'm very indecisive.\"\n\n\"Well, you'll get the hang of it. Now, we thought we would call and get your input. Just some initial settings so we can do the hard math.\" \n\n\"Oh... Alright.... One moment. ... ... ... ... Alright. I'm back. Sorry.\" \n\n\"Do you want us to preset some habitable worlds?\"\n\n\"Uh.... My answer is No.\"\n\n\"Ok, so you want to make them yourself?\n\n\"mmmm-- Most likely.\" \n\n\"Alright. Well, you saved us a lot of work. Do you want to exist as an energy being?\" \n\n\"It is decidedly so.\" \n\n\"Good choice. That will really open up a lot of options as far as omnipotence goes. Do you want physics that conform to our own?\"\n\n\"Reply hazy, try again\"\n\n\"Do you not understand the question?\"\n\n\"Signs point to yes\" \n\n\"Are- are you asking an Magic 8 Ball?\" \n\n\"It's vintage.\" " ]	2
Potential plot twist-- the staff are lying and the people are innocent...? I dunno, do what you want.	[WP] A group of prisoners is given an experimental new treatment that erases their memories, essentially restoring them to the people they were before their crimes. Story begins with a prisoner awakening to learn of their guilt.	[ "Upon waking, Jack finds an inscription on the ceiling. \"MURDERER\" is what it says. \n\n\"The cleaning lady must've not seen this one,\" he says to himself. \n\nHe sits up and looks ahead and sees an inscription that reads, \"RAPIST\". \n\n\"Or that one,\" he says. \n\nJack has been out of prison for two years now. He remembers being in jail, but not what for. He knows his crimes because they are written throughout his house. Usually, it were the housemaids that wrote these while he wasn't home. Guilt is feeling that has escaped from Jack, not because he's a psychopath, but because he is oblivious to what he has done. Jack has not been involved with the law in the two years he's been out of prison. Still trying to wake up from his sleep, Jack heads toward the bathroom, but hears rustling downstairs. \n\nNow alert, Jack slowly descends down the stairs and walks into the living room. A thief, dressed in all black, is rummaging through his belongings. Jack reaches for the umbrella he used the night before and charges at the criminal. The criminal caught off-guard takes a hit, but prevents himself from being knocked down. Jack swings at him once more, but the man in black catches Jack's blow and throws it down. The man pulls out a knife and slowly walks toward Jack, edging him towards the wall. Against the wall, Jack's heartbeat trembles throughout the house and his swear drips down to the wooden floors. \n\n\"Fear?\" Jack thinks to himself, \"No... This isn't fear.\"\n\nThe robber swings at Jack with his blade but jack ducks and tackles the man down, releasing his grip on the blade along with it. \n\nJack pounds his fist against the man's head, repeatedly. He hits and hits and hits until the man's blood is engulfing Jack's fist. In the midst of all this, Jack finds himself smiling. \n\n\"Joy,\" Jack thinks to himself. \n\n", "The alarm didn’t wake Colin immediately, as it had not the meaning of waking up to him, but of returning to his cell. But something was off. Colin entered his cell and was greeted by a snake, a huge white snake with fangs the size of his arm. He wanted to run, but found that he his running was like jumping in the air on the same position. The snake came for him, he was going to die…\n\n…and then he woke up with a start. It was just a dream. He was save in his bed, probably still a bit hung-over from that party last night. Damn, the Christmas party from his company. It has started so well, he and his girlfriend were having such a great time. But then he had gotten drunk, again. His girlfriend, Mary, had told him over and over again to not drink so much, but he couldn’t help it. Once he had a beer or two he couldn’t stop himself anymore. Mary tried to stop him, but he, in his drunk state, started yelling at her and calling her names. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he hit his colleagues who tried to calm him down. What happened after that was a blur, but apparently he managed to get home to his bed. Or to a bed. As he looked around, he found that he didn’t recognize where he was. He needed to apologize to everyone. He did not want to accept that his relationship might be over. Mary had warned him, but he loved her so much. If he could just manage his anger and his drinking…\nBut he would apologize. He would find help. He knew this couldn’t on any longer like this. He had known it for a while know, but this really was the last time. It had to be the last time, he didn’t want to lose Mary. \n\nHe got up and tried to remember where he was. Was it his friends James’ house? He didn’t recognize it, but then again, he had never been to a bedroom in his house. Colin found some clothes in the room and got dressed. He got downstairs and was greeted by an elderly couple who looked a lot like his parents, but were way too old to actually be his parents. “Good morning, did you sleep well?” The elderly woman asked. “Yes, I think so”, Colin replied. “Your dad and I are going to get some food for tonight, anything special you want? “ Colin did not know what to respond, these people, his parents? Did they just age 20 years overnight? “No thanks”, Colin answered. “I am not feeling well. I think I’ll go outside, some fresh air will do me good.”. “Colin…” his dad began. But Colin did not trust what was going on. These people looked and acted like his parents, but there were a few things that were not right:\n1) This was not his parents’ house\n2) These people were too old to be his parents\n3) No way would his friends call his parents after a party. I mean, he was a 26 year old adult. And yes, he had fucked up massively, but his friends from work didn’t know his parents. \n\nBefore his dad could continue, Colin had left the house. His dad ran after him, “Colin, stay here, you can’t go out alone!” But Colin ran off, he was always a good runner. And his dad, well, let’s just say he wasn’t very athletic. Colin hadn’t eaten yet, he hadn’t even brushed his teeth or shaved, but no way was he staying in a house with these people before he knew what was going on. First things first though, he needed to apologize. He would visit Mary first. Colin and Mary were living together. It was Mary’s house officially, she had inherited it from an aunt, but Colin had lived there for the past two years as well. She must have a visitor, Colin thought, as he saw a fancy red family car in the driveway. He contemplated returning later that day, but he lived here too. When he ringed the doorbell, a ten year old opened the door. “Hello, sir!” the kid said enthusiastically. “eh…, I’m sorry, I think I must have gotten the wrong house” But that was impossible, unless he was of course more hung-over than he thought. And the houses in the neighborhood all looked the same. “Who is there, Tim?” The woman that approached asked, probably the mother. Colin took a look at here and was lost for words. This woman, this beautiful woman that seemed to be the mother of this boy Tim, was his Mary. “Colin” she said, turning white as a sheet. “Mary!” Colin exclaimed, remembering all the guilt of the night before, “I am so sorry about last night. I know I shouldn’t drink that much and I promise it will never happen again, and I will find help. But please, what is going on. My parents, you, what is happening.” “Colin, go home, look in a mirror. That night was twenty years ago. And after that, well, I didn’t know they released you and I don’t know why you don’t remember, but please go away” Mary sadly said as she shut the door. \n\nColin, more confused than ever, walked away. He didn’t care where he was going, but found himself by the lake in the forest. It was a beautiful day, the lake reflected the trees of the forest perfectly. This was where Colin would always go to think, it was his place of peace, where he could cool down from the anger he so often felt. Look in a mirror, he remembered Mary saying. The lake was as smooth as a mirror. Colin walked to the shore and looked at his image. This was not him. This was some guy in his forties. The guilt he had been feeling all day increased, but there was more to it than just the party. Mary didn’t even want to look him in the eye anymore. She said he was released from somewhere. He remembered his dream, the prison, the prison bells. Suddenly his guilt intensified so much, he couldn’t handle it. He had done something terrible. He couldn’t remember what, but Mary’s reaction to him, the dream, everyone getting older. He had done something bad. His anger intensified, the anger that was always there. Was this what had ruined everything for him? The lake was so pretty, but his image ruined it. His image was not worth is, he was not worthy to Mary, the love of his life. Colin swam to the middle of the lake and floated on his back and waited…\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] Humanity wakes up with all weapons disappeared from Earth.	[ "It came so unexpected, one second i had just slipped into deep sleep on my bunk, the next falling into the icy Atlantic as 100,000 tonnes of aircraft carrier dissapeared below me, lucky most objects separate from the hull including life rafts and PDFs were spared, and out of the Chaos we began to organize ourselves onto the life boats. \n\nThen in the morning ships came to our rescue and we made it back to home, the government was struggling to maintain law and order with nothing more then its bare hands and failed. Within days law, order and government ceased to exist, the world had plunged into oblivion, crime in all its forms was running rampant in major population centers, it took millennium for Urban areas to have the same population as Rural and it went backwards in such a breif amount of time, as mass exoduses from Cities occurred as the average person began to distrust their neighbor.\n\nEventually the world was on the brink of the Dark Ages, technology was still but drastically not as prelevant as before, nearly all our modern day values were gone. \n\nMy first attempt at WP", "My hazy eyesight slowly began to come into focus as I blinked open my drowsy eyes. Rolling over in my bed, I turned to gaze at the clock. 6:09. Hm. \n\nThough it wasn’t quite late enough for me to consider climbing out of my comfy bed and getting ready for the grind of work, I gradually became more awake and aware of my surroundings. Something, whatever it was, didn’t feel quite right. The atmosphere seemed calm. The only sound that hit my ears was the muffled voices coming from the living room. I strained my ears to make out what they were saying, but the voices were too soft for me to make out. However, I did make out the speed in which they were talking, which was much too fast for a normal conversation. Indeed, something was up.\n\nI sat up and hastily kicked the covers off of my body. After leaning back and stretching my back for a few moments, I reached my feet out and stood up from the bed. That’s when I noticed that something was wrong. Or rather, something was missing.\n\nSee, I’m an avid samurai-culture enthusiast. Now shame in that, right? A few years ago, I had visited NYC ComicCon down in the city and had picked myself up a nice pair of dual swords from one of the vendors. Though I knew they were nowhere near what the legit weapons were, they were still pretty cool, and sharp as hell too! I displayed them on a mount that hung from the far side wall of my bedroom. Every day, I would wake up and gaze up at them with a sense of pride and awe.\n\nNow, I gazed across my room at the bare spot and the wooden mounts that once held my swords. \n\nMy mind was whirling. Where did they go? Who took them? Questions filled my brain as I tried to take in everything at once. I knew they were there when I had went to bed last night. I was sure of it. The only scenario I could think up of is that my brother had taken and hidden them somewhere as a prank on me. He sometimes pulled little stunts like this, as he was annoying as most older brothers are. However, I don’t ever recall him doing something to this extent.\n\nStorming out of the bedroom, I slammed the door behind me and glared indignantly around the living room. My mother, father, and brother were all seated on the couch in front of the tv. Their heads sharply turned in my direction at the sound of me entering the room. A look of fear and anxiety crossed all three of their faces. Okay, I thought. Now things are getting a bit strange. \n\nI looked over their expressions and furrowed my eyebrows together. “What’s going on here?” I demanded. I turned my eyes to my brother and added, “Ryan, you had better return my swords to me. Now.” My tone was cold. I already felt tired of the jokes today, and the day had barely even started. \n\nStill, nobody had said anything. Usually, mom would come to my aid and take my side, ordering Ryan to stop the jokes. This time, she said nothing. Their expressions of fear never subsided.\n\nI clenched my fists, the frustration growing inside of me. Something was wrong, I knew it. And whatever it was, they weren’t telling me. “Okay, just what the fuck--!” I stopped short and let out a small ‘yelp’ of surprise as a loud bang sounded across the house. Something big… And heavy sounding had hit the front door. All four of us jumped with surprise, our heads snapping towards the direction of the sound. “Whuh-What the hell was that?!” I asked in a shaky voice. I lifted up my foot to start towards the direction of the door, then stopped dead in my tracks.\n\nWhatever that sound was… Sounded like somebody, or something, was trying to break down the door. Our we experiencing a robbery?? My head spun with stress and confusion. That would explain why my parents and brother looked so fearful, but why not call the cops? Surely, they could help, right??\n\nWithout saying anything more, I ran to my room on shaky legs and fumbled for my phone on the night table. My fingers trembled as I unlocked my phone.\n\n“That won’t help. We.. We’ve already tried that.” I spun my head around and met my father’s troubled gaze as he entered my doorway. I’ve never noticed until this point in time, but he looked a lot older than I remember him looking. His brows furrowed together and the corners of his lips were turned down. \n\n“What… Do you mean..” I began to ask. My wide eyes gazed up at him expectantly, then back to looking at the phone once more. If the police couldn’t help us… Then who could? \n\n“Hun, you have to show her.” A soft, hesitant voice sounded from the living room. My mother.\n\n“Show me what, dad??” I looked up at him. Something was very, very wrong indeed. \n\nAnother loud sound of banging came from the front door again. My father locked his serious expression with me for a moment more before turning around and beckoning me to follow him into the living room. I followed on shaky legs, my brain trying to comprehend the entire situation and think of things that could have possibly gone wrong to cause this situation.\n\nAs soon as we plopped down on the couch, my mother reached for the television remote on the coffee table and, without saying anything, turned the tv on. \n\nIt was then that everything had come to me at once. My brain was flooded with information as I tried my hardest to keep my cool and follow everything the news anchor was reporting on Channel 13 news. \n\nWorldwide disappearance of weapons.\nChaos everywhere.\nRebellions.\nRobberies.\nMurders.\n\nI didn’t realize I started crying until tears were rolling down my cheeks. My mom leaned over and hugged my tightly, my clothes muffling her own quiet sobs as she buried her face in my shoulder. My dad placed his hand on my back and shook his head in sadness. My brother was speechless, though his eyes held a look of defeat and hopelessness. I turned my gaze once more to the front door as another bang came from the other side of it.\n\nHah. Of course there would be trouble. I thought bitterly to myself. I let out a short “tshh” from my lips and shook my head back and forth, my bangs sticking to my skin as I broke out in a light sweat. At this point I wasn’t even going to question why in the hell, or HOW in the hell, did all weapons suddenly disappear from earth. There was no time left, as the frame around the door split open more and more with each “bang” it took from the force trying to make its way inside here. \n\nOf course there would be rebellions. Cops were powerless without their weapons. Of course there was going to be robberies; who would try to stop them? And murders… of course. Of course.\n\nSuddenly, I shot up from where I was sitting and ran across the room to the kitchen. Our parents had a small wine cabinet which in the corner of the counter. Without hesitation, I reached for one of the bigger bottles which lay at the bottom of the shelf. \n\n“Tammy, what are you…” My mother’s eyes widened. Her words were cut short as I brought down the bottle to the side of the cabinet and smashed it open. The contents that were left in the bottle spilled to the linoleum floor with a splash. My brother suddenly shot up the couch, realization crossing his face.\n\n“If we don’t have proper weapons, than neither do they!” I shouted to my parents. My brother ran up beside me and grabbed another bottle from the cabinet. Following my lead, his smashed his on the side of the sink, the shards and fluid spilling into the drain. We both clenched the half-broken bottles in our fists, pointing the broken end towards the direction of the door. The ridged edges shone sharp and glittering in the sunlight that spilled through the kitchen window. \n\n“We can’t give up. Not now…” My voice dripped with malice and hatred as fear began to turn into pure rage. How dare someone try to mess with us. How. Dare. They. “I don’t know about you, but I am not ready to bow down without a fight. We have a right to protect each other, and you can bet that I will do just that.”\n\nIt was as if my parents suddenly came to the realization that they could fight this off as well. With another loud bang at the door, they shot up like bullets and began scrambling around the house for items that would be of use. My brother and hurriedly took our positions in front of the door.\n\n“This is it, sis. We can fight this. They have just as much power as we do.” My brother turned his eyes toward me and gave a bitter half smile. I nodded in returned and looked back at the front door, my body tense and knees slightly bent. My hand hurt from gripping the bottle as hard as I was, but my expression never wavered off of determination. \n\nWhatever was out there, they’d better believe that we were ready for them. \n" ]	2
No limits on country/town/city or time/place.	[WP] You travel regularly on the train, and one day at the station you notice a train going to a destination you are sure doesn't exist. Then you notice that all the people getting onto the train are dressed alike and carry black bags. Who are they and where/why are they going?	[ "Waiting at the train stops of Chicago in mid January cold is never a fun thing. From the metal benches to the infamous wind everything begins to sting. I'm wrapped up in my scarf, breathing warm air heavily against my own face and doing my best to stay out of the chill air, hiding behind a column holding up the station roof. \n\n\"I swear, these trains are never fucking on time...I need a car\" I mutter to myself. The station is relatively empty as it is around midnight, several hours before bars let out and the train cars shuttle home the mess of drunkards. To my far right however stands a small family, a mother, father and what I assume is their 4 or 5 year old son. While this was odd to say the least, even stranger still was the fact that the father and son wore clothing more fitting for indoor use, not 26 degree weather. \n\nThe father held the sons hand in his own, standing beside the mother and smiling faintly at her. It was only upon noticing his smile that I saw her slumped shoulders and unkempt hair poking out erratically from her beanie. Her head hung low and she barely moved despite the strong breeze of the night. At the sound of the train, her head lifted ever so slightly to reveal..\n\nThe screeching of metal at the trains arrival stole my attention from her and it braked almost as quickly as it appeared. It's steel doors slid open and brought with them a strong gust, blowing the little boys hair about wildly as he clung to his mother's legs. The father knelt down to his son and extended his hand, coaxing the son to him with a smile That made me forget the harsh cold, which was beginning to intensify. \n\nThe mother didn't move a muscle. It's as if she barely noticed the train humming merely feet from her. The boys touch made little but a grimace on her face and soon he let go, once again taking his father's hand. Together they stepped into the train car and the father said a final word to the mother, but I was too far to hear it, despite how intently I watched this scene. Something strange was happening, but I didn't know it, my body did. Its hard to explain.\n\nThe doors of the train slid shut and the train silently moved away into the darkness, seemingly fading into the night.\n\nAt this, the mother burst into tears, holding her face within her hands and revealing what appeared to be a hospital bracelet about her wrists. \n\nSomething on my cheek grew cold as the wind drew me back to my senses. \n\nWhen had I started crying? I wiped the tears from my eyes and chalked it up to little more then the ferocity of the cold...but somewhere inside, I knew otherwise. ", "I did a double take, looked at my watch, pinched, knocked myself in the gut. Nope. It was all real. Each man and woman, dressed in a black suit, black hair, black shades and all held a black suitcase.\n\nIt was seven in the morning, I take the train to school every morning and back. The first class was dance, my utmost favourite. I entered the train as usual, swiped my card to the machine, and waited by the bench for the next train. It was the same train as always, white with clear mirrors.\n\nI always like to ride in the head of the train, clean seats, fresher air, clearer mirrors. The train pulled up to the station and I headed to my spot, not a single soul existed on the train. And then, they came.\n\nIn a single file, they piled into my area, all taking a seat in the train. Suddenly I was in a sea of black. The men and women sat there silently, but the subtle movement of one, the rest followed.\n\nThe train finally took off, 'The next station is, 'Dance House and Funk.'\nWait? What the hell? I didn't hear Bonsel and Frier, I heard DANCE HOUSE AND FUNK? I didn't know what to do, I looked at the emergency stop, was it worth it? No, it wasn't, I decided to keep my mouth shut the entire way, the army in black were headed there, I wanted to know.\n\nAt some point in time, I thought I was in a loop or something, the train seemed unless. Until the fatal, Beeeep signalled and the train break to a stop. The overhead voice called out, Downtown Avenue. The army filed out in uniform.\n\nOne of the women stayed behind, and went up to me. 'Nathan, where is your costume?' Her voice was familiar, but too vague for a seven in the morning train ride.\n\n'Er... Do I know you?'\n\nThe woman plucked off her shades, revealing the eyes of my dance teacher, she sighed. 'Do you remember what day it is?'\n\nOutside, a blast of vigorous music erupted, I didn't even realize the train had stopped, nobody was on the train. Loud jeers followed, and taps and struts hit the station. They were dancing, the army of black. \n\nShe smacked the back of my head, I forgot about the flashmob.", "23:10, London Victoria station. A cold October night. I regretted my assumption that I’d be warm enough after the gig and, shivering, I pulled my hoodie tighter around me. I also wished I hadn’t stayed behind to try and get a picture with the band - I had missed the 23:06 train by a matter of seconds and had to wait nearly an hour for the next one. The shops had closed early, damn Sunday trading hours. I wish I’d brought a book with me. With a sigh I refreshed Twitter, but most of my timeline had tucked themselves in for an early night, the lucky sods. \n\nToo cold to go outside, so nothing to do but kick my heels and wander around the cavernous interior of the station. Due to how the two termini were knocked through to create one station, it had plenty of nooks and crannies to explore. The long platform 1, where the boat train used to depart from. The hidden exit by the Gatwick Express platforms. Platform 8b, behind the Wetherspoons- wait, wasn’t that where the lost property offices were? A bog-standard Southeastern commuter train sat thrumming in the platform, waiting to carry the drunks and late workers back home for the night. I continued my wander, casting an eye over the departure boards above the Millies Cookies to see where the train was going. \n\nHuh.\n\nPlatform 8 was empty, the next train showing the 5:30am train to Sevenoaks. Platform 9, the last train to Dorking was ready to go in ten minutes. Platform 8b - nothing. I wandered back to the platform, a curious look on my face. I had a good 40 minutes until my train left, nothing else to do. The electronic board above the gateline indicated that the train was the 2328 train fast to Horsted Keynes. It didn’t look particularly busy. In fact, I’d been alone down near the platform on both my visits. No matter, I thought, shrugging to myself; If it’s normally this quiet they’ll run the service down and stop it entirely in 18 months. A small voice nagged at me, but I went off to see if the platform for the last train to Brighton had been announced yet.\n\nMaybe it was the late hour, maybe the tiredness from the gig, but it took me a good minute or two to realise what the nagging was. Horsted Keynes had been closed for 50 years. It was now run as part of a preserved railway society, and had no way of powering the electric train currently waiting to go there. I walked back, hoping to take a picture of the departure board - I knew a few people who would find it amusing at least. As I approached I saw a fellow passenger walk to the gateline, swipe their ticket and walk through the barrier towards the train. Sharply dressed, too. Must be a city boy working late, taking his backpack home with him for a few hours sleep before the return journey to work tomorrow morning. \n\nI stood to one side of the barrier, trying to take a picture of the electronic departure board, but for some reason each attempt came out blurry and unreadable. Frowning, I shifted position, for a better attempt, only to be jostled by more passengers for the train. All different ages and looks, but all wearing similar styles. I don’t pay much heed to fashion, but this must be the current vogue style. Same backpacks, though. Maybe it was a company event in town? I pity any of their customers tomorrow, hopefully they won’t have high expectations of customer service. I framed the shot perfectly, but as I was about to tap the screen a person slammed into me from behind, knocking me to the ground. My phone skidded off under the barriers, being picked up by the short haired guy that hit me.\n\nStanding up I brushed myself off, giving my assailant the frowning of a lifetime as he passed through the barriers and onto the train. Something felt off. My wallet! My phone! The git had pickpocketed me! I tailgated someone through the barriers, keeping tight against her backpack to sneak through. The bag compressed as I got close - not empty, but squishy. Strange. I walked along the train looking for my attacker, but the station lights glinted off the windows and all I could see was my concerned face. I took the chance and jumped on the train. I’d be quick, I could find this guy and jump off before it left, piece of cake. \n\nThe train was cold. Not like the usual British Railways habit of only having the train heating on during the summer, but cold as in “I can see my own breath”. I ducked into the carriage itself and saw it was full. Not with anyone standing, though. Everybody was sat peacefully in silence. The luggage racks above the seat were filled with those bloody backpacks, neatly lined up. I moved down the train, looking for the chap that bumped me, but I quickly realised how futile the effort was - each male seemed to have the same short haircut. They also seemed to all be listening to the same style of black earphones. Whatever, at least the brilliant white Apple earphones had finally been phased out. Sighing, I gave up. I’ll call the bank tomorrow and cancel my cards; filing a police report to claim the phone back on insurance. It’ll be a hassle, but a lesson learnt.\n\nExcept the doors had hissed closed. The electronic button to reopen them wouldn’t work. Dammit, I’d spent too long on the train. Great. I moved up the train and slumped down in the only spare seat that I’d seen, instinctively grabbing for my phone to find out whether I’d be able make it back to Victoria tonight. Not there, of course. Could my night get any worse? I looked around to see if any of my fellow passengers had a paper I could borrow. Nobody was talking or making eye contact - typical British commuters. They were all sat ramrod straight, staring off...at nothing in particular. Was this train going via Midwich or something? Sod it, what’s the harm in asking? I cleared my throat.\n\n“Um, excuse me?”\n\nEverybody turned to look at me. In unison. O...kay, that was freaky. Resisting the urge to shudder, I remembered why I’d spoken up in the first place.\n\n“Does anyone have a paper I can borrow, please?”\n\nNothing. That’s pretty standard actually, you could get attacked in the tube and nobody would say anything. Still, the eye contact thing was pretty weird. Everyone was looking at me directly in the face. I couldn’t see the people behind me in the carriage but I’d bet pounds to peanuts they were the same. \n\n“What’s the next stop? I’m not supposed to be on this train and I’d like to make it back to London so I can get my train to Brighton tonight, does anyone know, please?”\n\nStill nothing. Vast acres of nothingness in which to plant crops. I looked out the window for a familiar landmark, but the inky blackness stared back. Were we outside London already? No, the train hadn’t been going that long...had it? I peered at my watch - broken, it had smashed in the fall. Wonderful. Did I walk under a ladder this morning or something? Right, that’s it. \n\n“Does anyone mind if I listen to my music? I’ll turn it down if it’s too loud.”\n\n“No.”\n\nAha, they spoke. Literally. It felt like the reply came from all around me, yet nobody seemed to move their mouths. I looked around, for some indication of who spoke, but the blank faces stared back without expression. \n\n“No you don’t mind, or no you’d rather I didn’t listen to music?”\n\n“Use these.”\n\nThat voice came from my left, across the aisle. I examined the four faces, nothing, except- were they smiling? Almost imperceptible, but the corners of the mouths seemed to be turned up slightly. Odd. I turned back to find a pair of headphones had been placed on the table in front of me. Again, nobody took credit for this. I resolved to find out which blasted company these freaks were working for and write their MD a strongly worded letter of complaint. Tomorrow. After calling the bank, fixing my watch, and claiming back my phone. Whatever, I’m keeping these headphones. Grumpily I unplugged my cheap pair from my mp3 player and plugged this new pair in. To my surprise the battery wasn’t flat, that’s something at least. Maybe it was past midnight and Monday was going to be better? \n\nNo. Flicking through each and every file was corrupt. Maybe while walking under a ladder I’d broken a mirror too. I looked up to find a replacement sitting in front of me. Of course. I didn’t dare look around openly at the faces - I could see out of the corner of my eyes that the smiles were wider. Sod it, at least with some music I could distract myself. Pocketing my broken device, I plugged their headphones into their mp3 player and wondered what crazy stuff they’d have pre-loaded. \n\n“Good morning, James. We’ve been expecting you…”\n", "\"Damn Amtrak wi-fi.\" My email refuses to send. I look up from my computer and out the window for the first time in 20 minutes to see the train speeding through the darkness. There are a few lights in the distance, but I don't remember what stop is next. I'm new to this whole New York to Baltimore commute.\n\nThe conductor slams on the brakes. The train screeches. I grab my computer with one hand and my coffee with the other, spilling it all over my lap. \"Fuck.\" Fortunately, the coffee is cool. Cold even.\n\nI stand up to dry myself off, thinking about the nasty things I'll write about Amtrak on Twitter once the wifi is back. Suddenly, a man dressed in a black tshirt and jeans carrying a black bag walks through the open door. Then another. Then another.\n\nAll three wearing sun glasses, which is odd being that it's night. I glance out the window, but I can't see a sign at the station. Where the hell am I? \n\nThe men sit together at the center of the car, about four rows up from me. It's one of those seats where people face each other with a table in between.. They drop their bags into the fourth seat.\n\nAmtrak guy walks through the car, takes their tickets.\n\n\"Excuse me, what stop was that?\" Nobody answers. \"Why the hell did we stop so fast? I spilled coffee everywhere!\" Still no answer.\n\nAll three men reach into their bags, each pulling out a bottle of vodka. As the train inches forward, they begin to chug. As the train gathers speed, one puts his bottle down. 1/4 is gone.\n\n\"Nastrovia!!!\" The other two begin to sing in Russian. The car is cold. Very cold. The conductor announces the next stop, but I don't understand a word of Russian.", "St. Marin's\n\nThe trains were just fucking with him at this point. This was the seventh to pass that wasn't going to his station. Where the hell was St. Marin's, anyway? Sounded like a stupid place for stupid losers. He needed more coffee.\n\nHe watched a girl walk across the platform towards the waiting (stupid) train. At least she would get to go home today. He felt resentful. He knew he was being irrational. The girl was dressed in a smart black suit and carried a black briefcase. She looked important. A lawyer, maybe. What would a lawyer be doing in a shithole like St. Marin's?\n\nA man followed the girl into the train. He was dressed very much the same - black suit, carrying a black briefcase. Maybe they worked at the same firm. Maybe they accidentally wore the same outfit to work today. How embarrassing.\n\nHe snorted. What else could you expect from those St. Marin's folk? God, he needed coffee. Or a beer. Maybe the next train would be his.\n\nTwo women walked past him. Black suits, black briefcases. They got into the train. Weird. Did they all know each other? Did they all mean to dress that way? Who even used a briefcase anymore?\n\nHe looked around. Most of the the other people nearby were playing with their phones. A few were staring into space, their minds elsewhere. No one seemed to notice the Briefcase People. But he did.\n\nThere were more of them, now. They walked through the open doors of the St. Marin's train alone, and in groups. They were young and old and came in all shapes and sizes. And they all wore black suits and carried black briefcases. He counted eight. Nine. Eleven. Fourteen.\n\nHe stood up from his spot on the bench. Maybe it was the lack of coffee talking, but he had to figure out what was going on. Well. He wanted to, at least. He snorted again. Mighty Steve from HR, Solver of Train Mysteries. Steve the Small-Time Adventurer. Kinda-Detective Steve. All he needed was a deerstalker cap - or maybe a cape. And a couple of bucks to get home from St. Marin's.\n\nHe got on the train.\n\nThe doors closed behind him, and the train started moving. He felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. This was weird. There were about twenty of those nutjobs on board, all told. They were all sitting, straight-backed and statue-still, with their hands folded in their laps and their briefcases set on the floor by their feet. Twenty pairs of eyes stared, unseeing, into the middle distance. Worst of all was the total silence. Not a single one of them made so much as a peep. If he hadn't seen them blinking he'd've thought they were mannequins. \n\nSomething orange caught his eye. He turned his head to see a schlubby guy in a garishly colored tee shirt standing towards the far end of the car. Orange Guy looked back at him, a sort of amused bewilderment on his face. Another knight gone a-questing, then, determined to plumb the secrets of the Pod People. The two stared at each other for a bit without saying a word, both unwilling to break the church-like atmosphere. \n\nTwenty minutes passed. The train stopped twice more, at Avington and Breakwater. At both stations there was an influx of suits, followed by one or two confused hangers-on. No one got off. No one spoke. He was starting to get nervous.\n\nLast stop, Saint Marin's. Last stop.\" The voice over the intercom made him jump. Finally! He needed to get off this train and head back home. Enough was enough. He was the first out the doors and onto the platform. \n\n\"What the hell?\" He knew he was being loud, but he couldn't help it. Getting off the train had broken the hold that that oppressive silence had had on him. Besides, what the hell. This wasn't St. Marin's - if there even was* a St. Marin's. This was fucking New Weston! He had been here a thousand times! \n\nHe looked back at the train. It still said St. Marin's on the side. Maybe it was a mistake? This was definitely the New Weston station. Now he was getting pissed. He didn't have all night to ride the train playing fucking Clue.\n\nThe freaks were all getting off at this stop, it seemed. He grabbed the arm of the one closest to him. He wanted answers. Distantly, he knew he was acting insane. He didn't care.\n\n\"Who the hell are you people?\" He demanded.\n\n\"I beg your pardon?\" She was an older woman, graying red hair pinned back in a bun. Same goddamn black suit, same goddamn black briefcase.\n\n\"Don't bullshit me. I was on that train. Who are you people? Why are you all dressed like that? Where are you all going? What the hell is going on here?\"\n\nShe grinned. \"You're a very observant person.\"\n\nHe blinked. Not quite the response he had expected. \"...thank you?\" He was starting to feel ridiculous, but he didn't loosen his grip on her arm. He tried to think of something to say.\n\n\"Very observant,\" she continued, oblivious to his distress. \"Intelligent too, I'd wager. We're looking for people like you. Observant. People who notice things.\"\n\n\"Is this some kind of job offer?\"\n\n\"Oh, nothing like that. We just want you to notice us. You, and people like you. Observant people. We want you to look at us.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\nThere was that grin again. \"Because, my dear boy, we're the distraction.\"\n\n" ]	5
A being that can temporarely take over peoples bodies and memories and make them watch as he/she/it... makes their lives a lot better. It may take advantage of the powers, but always twists the situation for the benefit of the person it is controlling	[WP] The friendly bodysnatcher.	[ "I'd seen this look before. Ruffled hair, crazy eyes. He stood on the edge of the cliff, and I knew what he was about to do. I floated closer to him to hear whatever this crackhead was mumbling.\n\n\"Why would she do that to me.. why would she just.. I told her not to, I told her to stay..\"\n\nHe kicked a pebble off the cliff and out into the rumbling sea. It was quite a ways down. I figured his body wouldn't even be recognizable once he hit all those rocks. I wondered if anyone would even know he was gone. I couldn't stand the thought of it, so I jumped in...\n\n...backed up a few feet and sat down. Why did he want to end it, anyway? Having a body and a life seemed nice, I don't think I'd ever toss that aside. I had been wandering around since.. I don't even really know.\n\nThey had been together for a while. Oh man, she seemed like a catch to me. Long, wavy blonde hair and piercing green eyes. He remembered her smiling a lot, and how she would blush whenever he made her laugh. But then along came the friggin' drugs. Syringes lying all over their apartment. He didn't have many memories after a while. Just little snippets of waking up on the bedroom floor, with her curled up next to him. He'd make some eggs, set a plate next to her face, and shoot up again. Boom, he was gone.\n\nThen one morning he woke up, set some breakfast by her, shot up, woke up, and.. the food hadn't been touched. How long had it been, Jesus? When was the last time he even looked at the clock? What day was it? He called 911 and she was pronounced dead on the scene. She had been dead for two days; she was dead when he served her breakfast. He was just too fucked up to notice that her skin was blue, that the eyes were starting to flatten.\n\nAlright, back to his apartment we go. When I arrived, I set a pan on the stove and cooked some eggs. I set them on his nicest plate, and put them on his bedside table. I wanted to just lay him down and have him go to sleep, but I didn't feel like that was enough. Maybe some spring cleaning? I dug through every drawer, every cabinet, every crack in the wall and found what I believed to be all of his drugs. I went outside in his backyard, dug a hole, and buried it all. I trudged back into his room and found a post it note and a pen. I wrote a message, set it next to the plate of eggs, and jumped out. \n\nHe stood in shock and disbelief, his eyes darting around the room, trying to figure out how he got there. His eyes eventually found the eggs, and the note. I heard him start to sob as I drifted out of his room. The note was probably my best work yet.\n\n\"I made a huge mistake. Please don't follow me down that path. Take care of yourself, for me. -Liz\"", "I roll my eyes. \n\nThis always happens when a shy person likes someone they thinks is out of their league. All the useless chit-chat, the desperate attempts to catch their crush's eye or be near them; it is foolish, but almost funny in the stupidity, like watching a dog chase his tail. \n \nThen again, I could be the fool, because it is my role to help the pooch catch what it wants. \n\nIn every thousand or so people, there is someone who is born able to be a \"bodysnatcher\". They have talents, but, to use them, they have to use them to help to help people, or else they get violently ill after they do their thing. Of course, there always is some way to bend the rules, like my pen-pal Alisha purposely pairing people together to watch them have sex, but I at least try to respect peoples privacy. Oh, yeah, I should mention I am one.\n\nI've known since I was three because of an accident involving cookies on the top shelf, a box of 1000 plastic forks right next to the sweets, my dog weaving around my/my mom's feet, and my mom stretching for the shelf under my power. When I learned what I did, I vowed I wouldn't be greedy again, associating cookie stealing with my departed dog. My main goal in school is to stay quiet, be a good girl for my parents, and work hard to get into college, but I just feel so sorry for people I have to help out.\n \nWhich gets me back to my current situation, watching Samantha try, and fail, to look cool while talking with Jack. I may just be good at reading people, but I can tell Jack likes her back and would ask her to the Homecoming dance on Friday if he wasn't afraid of being rejected. \"Look at that,\" I mutter, \"a novel situation. Two people liking each other, and they don't know it...\" \n \nActually, I have helped with 9 other couples this year alone. I also have helped a wimp defeat a bully, got a stranger to take his baby out of the boiling hot car, and had a teacher shut the class up. I admit the last one also helped me, but I justify it because others were getting frustrated with the clowns in the back talking. My watch alarm startles me out of my thoughts, telling me how there is only 5 minutes before the lunch bell rings. \n\nI can do this quickly. I go to the corner stall in the girl's bathroom, and start concentrating on Jack. As I feel my body slide to the bathroom floor, I realize I am now 6 feet tall and talking with Samantha. I wait for a minute, letting Jack talk as I just flip through his memories to make sure he likes her. I have made too many awkward situations by being hasty and forcing a person to say what they don't feel. \n \nI just do a brief scan; the evidence of his near-infatuation popping up almost immediately. I have to focus to not make a face of disgust at his many memories of masturbating to a picture of her in a bikini: can't have Jack looking like a fool. Well, I can't let him looking like a fool to people who can't read minds. \n \nThe bell rings. I have to hurry before my attempt to help becomes a waste. \"Bye! I, um, hope you have a nice day. Well, it's already halfway over, I guess, but, um, see you later,\" spouts Samantha. Last chance for me to help. I can't let her get away, so I have Jack grab her hand. Shit, I shouldn't have done that, I need to stay in character. I/Jack drop her hand, and I can feel a blush rising to his cheeks, one of the few things I can't control, along with erections and stomach noises. \n\n\"Um, you know, Samantha, there is this dance on Friday. Would you, uh, mind going with me?\" I take a second to make him breath, and decide Jack needs to doubt himself to make the performance more believable. \"It's ok if you don't want to, I mean, I just thought it might be nice to go with you...\" \n \nI see Samantha's reactions change from being surprised that Jack would ask her to doubt that he is telling the truth to thinly concealed excitement. \"YES!\" she yells, then, a little more controlled, says, \"that sounds wonderful, Jack. It would be a pleasure to go with you. Bye!\" Samantha leaves to go to her class, almost skipping in joy. \n \nAnother Oscar-winning performance from yours truly. I leave while Jack is figuring out where in the world he got the balls to ask her, blaming lack of self control, and return to my body, still sprawled on the bathroom floor. Samantha's shrill squeal to her friends about being asked by Jack confirms that I did the right thing. \n \n\"They'll be Facebook Official by Saturday,\" I mumble. A burst of envy runs through me. I make so many people happy, but there is no chance anyone would be happy being with boring old me. All I can do is put others together and vainly hope that someone may like me in the future. I can do what seems impossible, but, more and more, it feels impossible to go on living. \n \nThe funny thing about being a bodysnatcher is you either feel like you should be worshiped because you help everyone, or you realize your problems don't matter to anyone. There are many studies on the increased rates of bodysnatchers being class presidents or CEOs, and there are equally as many studies on their increased probability of being depressed and/or suicidal. Suicide doesn't seem too bad of an option, actually. I wonder what would happen if I die; would anyone care? \n\nI stop myself. I have to keep living so people's lives will get better with my help... \n\nI just wish I could use my powers to help myself.", "I stand next in line \nFor burgers and fries \nMickey D's and the King \nGot shit on Five Guys \n\nShe suddenly came \nAnd took over my mind \nShe ordered a salad \nNo meat there to find \n \nI'll only eat food \nWhen there's someone to fry it \nWhat the hell happened \nThis coke is a diet ", "He tried to surreptitiously glance at the beautiful woman across the bar. He had been trying to find a way to talk to her for the past month. Each time he moved to get up, the gravity seemed to increase tenfold and his legs turned to jelly. It was probably for the best. No one would be interested in him anyway. She seemed to enrich the atmosphere with her lively spirit. Everyone surrounding her smiled and laughed. He simply sat in his dim little corner, sipping his drink alone. \n\nAs he was getting up to leave the bar, a strange sensation overtook him. A tingling sensation beginning in his toes seized his body and slowly entered his brain. Then, to his terror, it felt like his consciousness was moved aside, and another one entered. \n\nRelax, kid. You'll thank me later.\n\nWHAT THE FUCK?! Someone was in his head. He turned around on the invading mind's accord. To his horror, he was approaching his ultimate crush. No, no, no no, NO, NO, NO!\n\nCalm down! Jesus, you're giving me a head ache. \n\nHe slid up next to her. She turned to him, and a small smile flickered across her face. Curiosity gleamed in her eyes, and dare he think, a little apprehensive excitement? \n\nDude, she's been dying for you to talk to her for the past two weeks.\n\nNo, way! She wanted to talk to him?! \n\n\"Well, well, well, if it isn't the hermit. Why have you graced my humble presence?\" her voice sounded like a sultry melody. And he was absolutely tongue tied. Luckily, his friendly neighborhood body abductor wasn't. \n\n\"I was actually hoping you could help me out with this hermit problem.\" \n\n\"Hmmmm....I don't usually help out complete strangers.\"\n\n\"I'm Ian. There, problem solved.\"\n\nHe knows my name?!\n\nI know everything about you. You're pretty cool, aside from that whole bed wetting thing. Might want to tell her about that before -\n\n\"Amelia,\" the lovely woman supplied before the body snatcher could probe any deeper. \"What did you have in mind?\" \n\n\"How does dinner and a movie sound?\" \n\n\"Pretty good. Maybe if that goes well we should do something a little more exciting.\"\n\nIan was fairly sure his heart stopped for a moment.\n\n\"I need to go, though.\" she took out a piece of paper and pen from her purse and scribbled down her number. \"Call me soon, 'kay hermit?\" \n\n\"I intend to,\" he answered suavely. \n\nShe handed him the precious paper and swept through the bar, meandering between patrons better than a dancer would. \n\nWow. \n\nUh-huh.\n\nBut how could I possibly call her without fucking things up?\n\nI only said what you would say if you weren't so damn nervous. Just trust your gut for once. You could be quite the ladies' man.\n\nThe tingling sensation overcame Ian once again. The other consciousness left and his body was once again his own. As he made his way to leave, he caught the eye of the barman. He gave him a knowing wink. Ian tossed him a $20 in thanks. The barman caught it without skipping a beat. \n\nAnother quick buck.\n" ]	4
A war has been waging for so many centuries that no-one remembers how or why it began, or why they continue to fight. This war will soon come to an end.	[WP] A war has been waging for so many centuries that no-one remembers how it began, or why they continue to fight. This war will soon come to an end.	[ "When he pictured his death, he had pictured something heroic, they all had; a valiant last stand as waves of the enemy crashed against the lightning steel of the blade that had claimed so many lives, a true hero's death, the kind of death that made wars worth fighting.\n\nLaying face down in a slurry of mud and blood, heart slowing to the sound of screaming and dying men was hardly poetic. The man clutched down at the gaping tear that ran the length of his leg, trying in vain to staunch the steady flow of crimson that had already soaked the bloodstained leather greaves that had finally failed him.\n\nIn the last moments of his life the warrior realized that he knew not what he was fighting for. In life he knew nothing but hatred for the enemy. In death, where even the most passionate of emotions struggle to break the cold, steely grip of darkness the dying man could not even remember why he had to die.\n\nHe was far from the first to die in this way. Millions before him had seen the same end to a short, violent, hate filled life. The words of the leaders echoed faintly, somewhere in his head. \"Victory at all cost! No life is worth more than the glory of the country! Onward to legend! Onward to fame! Onward to the glory of your country!\" He realized that those echoes had always been there, burning at the back of his mind, convincing him that the man who kneeled below his blade was worth less than himself. \n\nHe had thrown himself between the grand leader and the oncoming mass of the invaders. As the world burned around him he had done what he had been taught to do his entire existence; to give his life for his country, the ultimate glory! It did not matter, he realized that now. None of it mattered, he doubted that it ever had mattered. Back when this war began if they had known, if they had known that hundreds of years later and millions upon millions of lives thrown into the mud would this final ultimate victory still be worth it?\n\nSomewhere behind him he heard the familiar sound of a blade being sheathed in the flesh of a victim. He knew not who he felt more remorse for. The victim would surely join him in the final last truth of the pointless bloody existence, and the man behind the blade would continue on, never stopping to think until another's blade found its home with him.\n\nAs his vision slowly faded to black the warrior would have smiled had he the power left in his body to do so. His blood would join the blood of the enemy that he killed and no one would be able to tell it apart from the rest. In the end he was the same as them, he bled like them, he killed like them, and now he was dying like them, a short, pointless, violent end to a short, pointless, violent life.", "12.8.389 NE - Gen. Rex Meyer's Log\n\nThere's no salvaging these people. No one alive today can remember how this war started, but I know how it's going to end. We've given the Armassians damn near four centuries to surrender. It's time to stop playing nice.\n\nWe've got our secret weapon ready for deployment--that's the one beautiful thing about war. It inspires change. Progress. The weapons of our forefathers were formidable. We've made them better. And after countless years of small-scale warfare, avoiding our full destructive capacity, we've reached our tipping point. The world is about to witness our taking our rightful place once again as a world superpower, and it's all thanks to the eggheads born into a war we inherited from people far more patient than we are.\n\nIs this a dangerous move? I should say so. But nothing, nothing is more important than securing our nation in a world so far gone. Collateral damage is a given, and I wouldn't care if every last piece of Armassian scum keels over and dies if it meant we could finish this damn bloodshed already.\n\nIn a few hours, the world will look on in horror when we drop the first anti-matter bomb. They're going to call us monsters. Our enemy is completely unprepared for what's about to come. Hell, maybe we are, too. But I think of myself as a patriot. And for what it's worth, I'd like to believe history will look kindly on us.\n\nBut not today.\n\n\n\n___\n\n11/6/2024 AD - Sen. Hal Meyer's Journal\n\nAs of yesterday, the newly-formed Armassian Empire has declared their intent to accrue weapons of mass destruction. They have expressed willingness to use these weapons on all who oppose them, and show no such willingness to exist in peace with their neighbors in the East. There is a clear and present danger--of that there can be no doubt.\n\nThe American people are, mercifully, in agreement on this: we cannot allow their nations to amass nuclear weapons. We must stop them from acquiring their tools of destruction. For the safety not only of our nation, but of our very planet, we will officially declare war tomorrow.\n\nIn a way, I am filled with hope. Public support for a war like this hasn't been seen since the 1940s. At long last we can be proud to be called patriots once again. I am confident and delighted that history will look kindly on us.\n\nTo a better tomorrow!\n\n", "I watched as the killing machines tore down the remaining defenses of London, making fast and violent work of the outdated infantry defending.\n\nAs I looked over the country side I saw the pillaging, roads in disrepair, fields burning and broken mine shafts dotted the country. The smoke rose over the hills as London burned down and was occupied by the enemy.\n\nSoon after, bombers fly overhead and attack the giant killing machines. Unleashing dangerous ammunition upon them they soon crumble and fall apart.\n\n\"Fuck you Steve.\"\n\n\"Hey, gotta be done.\" I reply.\n\n\"Why are we even attacking each other anyways? Greeks are getting pretty beefy.\"\n\n\"Yeah fine, accept the peace treaty. I'll give you some uranium too.\" I declare, in order to emend the recent loss of the Russian military unit.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n27 turns later the Greeks were utterly destroyed and we saved the game of Civilization 5.\n\n", "And so, he boarded the plane that was going to send him to the country. He knew there was no turning back. Once he stepped outside the plane, he was doomed to die on foreign soil. Yet there he was, homesick and travelling.\n\nFrom an old country to another old one, he'd be where ancient historical figures had come and gone, and with his presence he'd change history. He'd see monuments erected to warriors from a different era and places where atrocities had been committed. Atrocities.\n\nHe savored the word. Much had changed since their countries were in open battle. Since the last truce had been signed more than a few generations had passed. And now returning to a conventional war and winning was impossible, the UN had taken care of that. That much everyone who had read some of the long and bloody history of his country knew. What they didn't know, of course, was that the war kept raging. There had never been a peace treaty signed, only a truce.\n\nAs he stepped outside, he saw an assortment of exotic people, none which could communicate verbally with him. Of course, this was only the beginning of the last war. But this war wasn't fought with weapons, no. They had outgrown such a barbaric method of war long ago.\n\nThe people back home didn't know about this, but he'd been briefed by a friend working in the emigration service. As soon as he knew about this, he signed up and got started. The deal was that he'd go to the enemy country, get married, get citizenship, have children, have possessions and die peacefully. He'd become a citizen of the enemy, working for them, paying taxes and voting every election year. But he'd receive a payment. Not enough to get rich but enough to afford a bonus. A vacation with his family, or a new computer for his son. And in exchange, he'd lobby. He'd be a teacher, teaching students how their country had started the war and been in the wrong in the first place. His children would grow and work and change their educational system, letting changes be more profound.\n\nOnce the time came, the two countries would be equal in all but name, and his grandchildren would lobby for a referendum. To join and grow.\n\nAnd finally, his country would annex the enemy, finally and forever. The eternal war would end, even if nobody remembered why it started. The Cultural War would be the war to end all wars.", "Like the last flicks of a fluttering, failing candle the beginning of the end is near. It's only a matter of time. He is at my mercy.\n\nI know not why, how or even when it started. Years, decades, centuries, millenia, eons have gone by since the conflict started. \n\nI know it's tempting to call it senseless killing. To say the conflict had no point or purpose simply because we forgot all together why we started fighting. But doesn't that make it even more important to continue? Shouldn't we stay the course and see the actions finished? To finalize it all with victory? Otherwise, what has been the point of it all? By giving up, wouldn't we be damning the lives of the generations before us?\n\nWithout one side dead, and other other living, the thousands of years that have passed would be for nothing. \n\nThe death of Earth, the colonization of Mars and other planets beyond our solar system, all have been due to our desire to destroy the Other. If we give in now, if we sign a peace treaty and live in harmony, it would make everything we've sacrificed a waste.\n\nWe've come too far, and so have they. \n\nEven now, amidst the last two remnants of our two species, old hatreds kindle and burn like a rampant forest fire. I see in his eyes that he hates me, a feeling easy for me to reciprocate. We have an understanding, he and I. I know if our position were reversed he would show me no mercy.\n\nYou might be tempted to say I have a choice, to say I can give it all up and and spare him--it--and moved past the conflict. To be the bigger man.\n\nAll those who passed before me, they watch -- from heaven, hell or wherever they are -- they watch as I hold him captive under the iron sights of my gun. They watch with eager intensity, waiting for me to pull the trigger, waiting with eager anticipation for a thousand pound weight to be lifted from their shoulders.\n\nThe canyon echos, the gunshot reverberates a thousand times and relives a moment thousands of years in the making like instant replay. With one final movement, one final action--the movement of my finger--I make all of our deaths worthwhile. I make all of their deaths in vain. \n\nThe blood pools from what's left of his head as it pools from the gaping wound in my stomach. I watch as the red dust of Mars soaks up our life blood greedily.\n\nHis candle has been snuffed and mine is waning, a whisper would extinguish it. But we have won, if only by a single minuscule thread. \n\nOur purpose is just. Our cause, whatever it was, sound. And our species, stronger.\n\nI lay my head back and relax as the feeling begins to fade from my arms and legs. I shall die in one life a hero to be born in another a legend. A smile spreads across my face, my ancestors await me in the afterlife with open arms.\n\n-----\n\n(If you like my writing, check out prompt responses and other pieces at nickblakeslee.com )" ]	5
optional: alliances between countries that hate each other and have done so for thousands of years but are close together and convenient to write about as a single entity	[WP] World War Three ravages the world. It's a conflict between two superpowers: North Korea and the Principality of Sealand.	[ "The year 2017 saw two architectural crumblings. In the East, the Blue House, a fiery explosion consumed the Republic of Korea's seat of power under mysterious circumstances. In the West, a tidal wave overcame Fort Roughs.\n\nIn response to the former, a united South Korean, American, and Japanese invasion saw to an end of the DPRK regime. With the bombing of the Blue House, DPRK leadership had drawn the collective condemnation of the global community--even the Chinese dared not to interfere in the violent reunification of the peninsula.\n\nA united Korean election saw every major post occupied by former ROK politicians. The Seventh Republic continued rapid economic growth by way of subsidizing export industries--the Chaebols, gigantic multinational conglomerates that dealt in everything from ramen to rocketry. Truth is, discontent among the common folk against the unholy marriage of government and these corporate titans had long been festering since the previous century. The country already had a penchant for a despotic demagogue when the coup came.\n\nPark Jung-Soo of the Reconnaissance General Bureau, DPRK's clandestine operations arm, was one of the first North Korean soldiers to turn against DPRK leadership when the invasion came. Through his surrender, he was able to save the lives of his men and likely millions of North Korean lives. More importantly, through his betrayal he preserved his rank--as a four-star general in the newly created Federal Republic of Korea Armed Services.\n\nIn the summer of 2022, a massive typhoon laid waste to the Southern tip of the Korean peninsula. A deeply ineffectual Korean government was slow to respond; the all-powerful Chaebols had little economic interest in the area, which further rendered government aid ineffective. Dubbed JSP by the relatively poorer folk in this region, Park mobilized the Eighth Army--then the smallest division and under Park's command--to aid the poor. Thus began his meteoric rise to power.\n\nThe first strike came in Guangju, a city historically known for its activist bent nested in the Southern breadbasket of Korea. Here, Park was able to establish a firm stronghold, in addition to his native North Korean supporters. At first the rebellion seemed a minor incident, without a hint of Park's involvement but its rapid expansion led the FRK leadership to deploy the First and Third Armies. A second rebellion quickly sprung up, predictably, from the capital of the former North Korea, Pyongyang. Though the contemporary consensus pointed it to criminal elements as the instigators of these revolts, later it became known that these agent provocateurs were ex-RGB jackals. FRK government proceeded to deploy the Fifth Army and the IV Corps to Pyongyang, leaving the defense of Seoul to 56th and 88th Divisions. Meanwhile, the Eastern coast remained quiet.\n\nIn March 2023, Park, stationed in Gapyeong, a military base less than 50 km from downtown Seoul, staged a coup with the loyal Eighth Army. He promptly arrested the Korean president Kim Chung-sam, in addition to 230 parliamentarians, all of them South Koreans. In the coup, 565 current and former politicians and soldiers were summarily executed according to a blacklist apparently prepared a decade ago. In a torrent of bloodshed, the 1st and 3rd Armies were disbanded and Park's rebel supporters became boots on ground for the new Park administration. The Seventh Republic was thus ended--Park seized control of all state apparatus under the banner of United People's Republic of Korea.", "Thousands of people thought it was a joke, but my father and I were the only ones who took Prince Michael's call to arms seriously. We landed on the coast of France, behind enemy lines and just outside the Principality's reach. We received our certificates declaring our entry to the Order of the Knights of Sealand nearly two years before the fighting erupted for the slim price of £120. It was our job to keep our liege lord safe, we understood what we signed up for. The Principality of Sealand is a fortress like no other. It's like owning Madagascar in a game of Risk. We will never give up, we will never surrender.\n\nOur orders are specific: Find and terminate Admiral Jaedong and General Flash of the United Korean Army. Prince Michael is attempting to win the war with some annoying League of Legends player named Snoopeh, but only a real veteran understands how childish LoL is compared to StarCraft. Our secondary assignment is to find the King of Wings, but no one has seen the man in years. \n\nMay NesTea watch over you, brave soldier. " ]	2
	[WP] Once per week since August 2013, 1d6 of Goblins appears and attacks people and businesses randomly. Tell the story from the view of the city's police chief who had to adapt his force over the past year to fight the new threat.	[ "Years before this, I kept a set of tungsten baoding balls on my desk. A gift from my wife when things were better, before our fights about money, misspent time and our dead bedroom. I'd kept them on display, occasionally glancing at them for an easy distraction from work, not quite appreciating their value. \n\nWhen things were rough at the office, I'd pull them out, grasping at the cold tungsten with my degrading fine motor skills, feeling my age creep up ever so quickly. Tungsten in hand, I could concentrate solely on the flexing and unflexing of my muscles, in a clumsy attempt to move my aging tendons. At first, it was easy to become distracted by the clutter of unfinished work, the ache in my neck, the hum of fluorescent lights, the whine from my computer and the noise pollution outside my half-hazardly drawn blinds. Over time, I found that I could ignore all that and focus my attention on those barely imperceptible metallic echoes. Leaning back in my chair, eyes closed, tungsten in hand I could find tranquility and with it a little bit of my disappearing sanity. \n\nA voice draws me from the void: \"Chief, we've got a report of three gobs over at McIllhenny park.\" \n\nI open my eyes, sitting up, while my hand continues it circular task. Slowly, the noise of the office comes back into my listening range, but for now it stays at the fringe of my hearing.\n\n\"Thanks for the notification, McCrillis, I'll choose today's squad.\" The officer's dull eyes, light up for a brief moment at my words and then return to their native dullness.\n\nDoors closed. Blinds drawn. I look around furtively, scanning for any opening. I see none and bring my hand over my desk and quickly open my palm. Tungsten dice clatter onto the metal desk. 2, 5, 6.\n\nI mutter aloud, speaking to nobody, \"Fortune's Favor\". Reaching down I pick up the first die, and quickly reroll it. 1. \n\nMy heart quickens. As I stand up, I can feel blood rushing to every corner of my body and a familiar warmth takes me. \n\nPicking up my badge and firearm. I open the door, as my voice cuts through the noise: \"McCrillis, Wall! Let's go. I'm running point.\" ", "The first two weeks were rough. The attack on the Starbucks killed three and could have been much worse if an off duty cop hadn’t been nearby with his firearm. We sent the creatures to the medical examiner, called in FBI and CDC. Nobody could identify them. Six days later, one goblin appears in the park. Kids went running in all directions. The woman who ran her car off the road and into the Gob was an absolute hero. The nearest officer was 15 minutes away.\n\nWe increased patrols, encouraged citizens to remain vigilant and even encouraged some people and business owners to carry weapons. We held weekly weapons training exercises at our station’s range and managed to minimize the accidental shootings, though they unfortunately sometimes occurred. \n\nThings went well for the next few months. Our town banded together, rose to the challenge, killed some Goblins. We saw an overall decrease in crime. People increased their volunteering and helped pick up the garbage on the streets. They voted in a new anti-Gob tax in November so we could fund more cops, though the truth was we didn’t need it.\n\nOf course, I knew the next problem was only a matter of time. We heavily encouraged people to not deal with the goblin corpses, to let the authorities handle them. I didn’t lie to the public, but I may have hinted that the Gobs were toxic, carried ebola or something. Looking back, I’m surprised we managed to keep a lid on the “booty” issue for five whole months.\n\nIt started with a few a-holes wearing armor and carrying swords, thinking they were in some sort of medieval quest. We tried to discourage them, tell them that taking on the goblins with swords was both dangerous and messy, but they kept trying. Finally, they got one. And of course, like any gamer, what did they do? They searched its pockets.\n\nThe truth was worse than any disease the goblins might have. The goblins carry gold. Two to five pieces of gold each, just sitting in their pockets, which at today’s prices can be worth thousands of dollars.\n\nAs soon as word of that spread, the vigilante goblin hunts began. Our town began forming roving bands of armed men trying to hunt the Goblins down. Even worse, we had gang members from Los Angeles drive in and take their shots, increasing our crime and making everyone less safe. Then some Silicon Valley investor tried to fund a hunting ring.\n\nIt turns out the vigilantes are worse for our town than the goblins. I want to re-enforce our restrictions on weapons, outlaw any private citizen hunting goblins and jail some of these gangs who try to make a quick buck out of our town’s curse. But of course, every time I think I have that authority, 2 or 3 gobs show up in a park and scare some kids before they’re taken down by a private group. Voters won’t let me do what’s needed to keep us truly safe. I can’t win. ", "Who the heck sends them? The runts are a real problem. Some joker is really starting to get on my nerves.\n\nThe difficulty of course was not killing them. Goblins die easy to a kitchen knife, let alone a M15. They pop out covered in this medieval garb with their blades dripping green goop. The first three or four times, people were convinced it was a publicity stunt for the new Silmarillion film. \n\nAfter a few deaths of course things tend to change. The Americans had an easy solution in their guns. Us Brits had to adapt. At first we just ignored the endless debates about legality of killing the stupid things, and mounted small calibre lasers on our security cameras. They have a fairly distinctive signature you see. Sadly, our programmers failed to anticipate Halloween.\n\nNope. Not elaborating more, we've already heard far too much about little Johnny and his authentic goblin skin costume. Sadly, it gave PETA the ammunition they needed (no pun intended) to mount a legal attack on the lasers. Concerns about human rights, and governments using them on their citizens. \n\nI really hate political correctness. Sometimes, I swear we are our own worst enemies. We tazer them now. Tazer them and drag their convulsing tiny forms to the cells. You thought we were short on prison space before? \n\nMost of my work nowadays is shutting down the illegal fighting rings. People don't feel half as bad setting gobbos on each other as they did about dogs. The runts actually seem to enjoy it! \n\nIf the boffins ever work out how they get here, I'm volunteering for the military on the spot. As it is, I have an inspection to do on the new cells. When will I ever escape the cursed clutches of paperwork?" ]	3
	[WP] Everyone but you has a superpower.	[ "As he stepped up to the mic, he began to shake. Psyched out of his mind, in a bad way. He's done it ten times, yet the jitters still fly. \n\nHe did not ever resent his abnormality. Rather, he embraced it in totality. For it was the source of this wisdom, his genuine charisma, and his deep love for his wife. Who's at home in bed, with her head phones in.\n\nElected at 35, and going on 46, term limits were waived by all constituents. Everyday he is amazed at how he is able to make world a better place. \n\nHe is the only person alive that will eventually die. He wonders if his wife will follow his advice, and move on toward the end of his life. He's read about what old people used to be like. It was not a nice read. He didn't sleep that night.\n\nThe camera lights turn on with the mic. The prompter slowly scrolls, and he begins to deliver what comes to be known as, \"The Speech of All Speeches.\" Within days of delivery, the world banded together in charity and peace. He was hailed as a hero.\n\nBut like any politician he was a liar and a cheat, whose superpower was the ability to hypnotize any one who hears his voice.", "\"It's what makes you, you\"\n\n\"When everyone is super, no one is\"\n\nBoth of those lines are bullshit. It's be 10 years. 10 years of everyone having these extraordinary powers, and some not so extraordinary. Even those people have something that makes them unique, but me? I have nothing. \n\nI mean, it'd be fine if I wasn't the only one like this, but I am. John Cursinger, the man who has a condensed knowledge of everything that happens at the current moment even said that every human has a power. Every human except me, he even felt the gusto to say I don't have any power. What a dick.\n\nNo one respects me, not even the people who have something useless like making and empty can of soda appear in front of them, trust me I've met a guy. I can barely get a job, there seems to be a person who can auto wash a floor or zap trash out of existence in every city I drift to. I've stopped even trying to make friends because once they finally ask about my power they look at me like I'm inferior, not human. All I can say is I'm glad it's gonna end soon.\n\nFeedback appreciated", "Gunfire and bank alarms yank me from sleep. It must be Thursday. Super powers don’t come with super empathy. The morning air is cold and damp, sun hidden behind unnaturally low and uniform clouds. Another day, another crime spree; approaching do-gooders already scream through the air. It’s time for me to move along.\n\nIt was a cold night under the glory of creation. Do the supers ever lie down and look at the sky? Cold bleeds through what clothing I own. You’d think it would be easy to keep the homeless population clothed when there’s only one. I stomp my feet, jumpstarting the warmth. The impacts counterpoint the explosions as someone breaches the vault. This happens so often I can dance to the rhythm.\n\nI don’t understand the people who don masks and fight crime. There are only marginally more of them than there are people who don masks and commit crime. It never goes well for any of them. The turnover rate is appalling. We all die, probably. Why seek it out?\n\nI stroll away from the growing scrum. Who needs the responsibility? Who needs the burden?\n\nOf course, there’s a downside; anything I can do, someone else can do better. That’s true of the supers too, but the disparity climbs several orders of magnitude when you’re the only one without superpowers.\n\nA crushing disappointment to my telepathic mother and teleporting father, they were relieved when I ran away. I didn’t run far. If they wanted to find me, they would’ve found me. I saw them steal an armored car once, mom controlling the driver, dad in the passenger seat. He was self-aware enough to look sheepish when I waved to him. I wonder if they’ve moved to greater things, like robbing banks, assassinating politicians, or protecting drug cartels. If they have, it’s not my problem. There’s literally nothing I can do to stop them.\n\nSchool was a nightmare. If they pick on the kid who can’t talk but can project his thoughts as holograms, what chance did I have? Instead of a diploma, I got a library card and enough isolation to use it. It’s amazing how much you can teach yourself when you’re constantly dodging ultra-violence.\n\nTires squeal on the damp pavement. The police have arrived. I smile and nod to the officers running through my park. I can read their powers in the cut of their uniforms and the set of their eyes. These are fast movers, heavy hitters, and indestructibles. The robbers will have their own storm troopers. I still have time to put buildings between myself and the coming Epic Showdown Between Good and Evil. How many of those men and women who looked right through me will die today? Just thinking about it makes me tired. But it’s their choice. They don the masks. They join the fight. They pay the consequences. That’s free will. Me, I didn’t have a choice. Even now, I feel the missing burden, the presence of absence, and it is glorious.\n\nSeveral blocks east, the clouds end like they’ve been planed. The sun peaks over the horizon, greeting me with more warmth than any super, as it does every day. The library isn’t open yet, but that’s alright. I’ll scrounge a meal from someone’s rubbish first. It’s going to be a good day, a good, normal day.\n", "Today is just another day… Just another day in my boring existence. I’ll walk to the office, I’ll be paid menial amounts of money for soul crushing work, I’ll eat the same boring lunch, probably ride the bus home because it’s supposed to rain… And then everything will repeat.\n\nWhy was I the only one to be born without a superpower? What did I do to deserve such a lame life? I’ve approached that question from every conceivable angle, and I’ve never found the answer. That doesn’t mean I’ll stop searching, but it does mean I’m getting a bit more depressed every day.\n\nBut… What if… What if my superpower IS normality? In this world, where everyone has some sort of ability, where people can fly, or lift objects with their minds, or control animals… What if MY superpower was to remember the human life? To be the average guy, the benchmark, the symbol of those other times?\n\n“Nope, horse shit, sorry guy” the man walking behind blurted out.\n\n“E…Excuse me?” \n\n“I can read minds. You’re wrong, you’re not super normal. You’re just unlucky. And before you start wondering, no, being unlucky isn’t your power either.”\n\n“How would you know? You can read minds, you don’t know the workings of the universe” I retorted. \n\n“No, but that guy over there does.” \n\nHe pointed up the street, to a guy leaning on a bus stop, who was watching our conversation.\n\n“And he’s looking at you, and he’s thinking ‘Fuck, man, bummer. That dude didn’t get a power. And his life is pretty shit. He’s gonna be pretty unhappy when he gets home and finds his dog dead’.”\n\nThe normal guy with no powers sunk to his knees, and dropped his hands into his face. He began to heave in great sobs, wondering at his cruel fate, and wishing he could do something about it.\n\n“Naw, man, I’m just messing with you. You’re dog’s probably fine. But you better get up, you’ll probably be late for work if you don’t keep walking.”", "The sign above the gym entrance read \"Annual Superpower Testing, 18+ Only\". Underneath, a line leading outside the door of impatient high-schoolers anxiously chattered amongst each other. Superpowers were acquired once one turned 18. Everyone waited for their moment to come. It was like receiving a car, or being able to vote, but even better. The whistle blew.\n\n\"NEXT!\" the man with the clipboard barked into the megaphone. A small redhead boy stepped up onto the makeshift stage, fidgety and nervous. \n\n\"Superpower?\" \n\n\"I can fly.\" In that instant, the boy rose up several inches from the ground. \n\n\"You'll be directed to Flying Academy and help pilot and maneuver aircraft.\" The teacher scribbled something onto the clipboard, then blew the whistle again.\n\n\"NEXT!\"\n\nI walked onto the stage, unsure of what to do next.\n\n\"Superpower?\"\n\n\"I've...I've got none, sir.\"\n\n\"You what?\"\n\n\"I don't have any.\" \n\n\"This ain't April Fools' Day, punk.\" He ran up to me and kicked me square in the chest, sending me back more than just a couple meters off the stage. \n\n\"Superpower? Don't waste my time.\" He looked down at me from the stage, gritting his teeth in anger. \n\n\"None,\" I replied. \"I never received a power.\"\n\nThe coach sighed and turned around, scribbling again in his clipboard.\n\n\"You'll be working as an apprentice under me, then.\" \n\n", "I was born different. \n\nEveryone in the world was born with it except for me. They don’t even remember that they have it.\n\nBut I remember. \n\nI remember when I wake up every morning and the sky is still dark. I remember every time I watch a sunset and only feel its warmth. I remember when I hold my child and only hear his cries. I remember when I tell my wife she’s beautiful and she smiles unbelieving.\n\nPeople think that they have to help me because I’m different. They’re “heroes” for helping me. As far as I’m concerned, I’m the normal one. \n\nThey just can’t see that.\n" ]	6
	[WP] Seeing a scrapbook memento unlocks a memory that, until now, you didn't know you had.	[ "“You only have a few things to grab, right?” Jason said from the driver’s seat. His ’67 mustang is still the coolest thing to us, which he started driving in high school over 18 years ago. But even though it was his, and we had no real blood relation to each other, it belonged to us. Not to a single person, but the three of us - the brothers.\n\n“Yea, not much. Just a few things. After the three of us move in I will head back and get some more.” I replied from the back seat.\n\nSteven said from the passenger seat, “Sound like a plan. Remember to thank your mom for us later for dinner. And tell her I said thanks for last night.”\n\n“Hurr hurr hurr. You can tell your daddy that I said thanks.” I remarked.\n\n“What?” Steven said.\n\n“Shut your faceholes, we’re here” Jason said as we pulled up to my mother’s doublewide.\n\nHome. This was home. The open country, the pine trees, the long gravel roads, it was all coming back to me. My mother’s home sat on top of a hill in the middle of nowhere, constantly 20 years behind the times, at all times. She was already standing on the porch waiting for us.\n\n“Nicolas!” my mother exclaimed to me as the three of us got out of the car. \n\n“Hey mom. Thanks for getting dinner ready for us and all. I’m going to go ahead and grab the stuff before we eat.”\n\n“Sure, I will have food on the table in a few.” she said as she headed back into house.\n\nWas that limp in her steep? Nah, mom isn’t that old, but that is a lot of gray hair she has now. When did she get that? I just saw her, oh, when was it? Last year? No, maybe it has been a while. She’s looking awfully worn down.\n\n“Hey peter-breath, we are gonna go help your mom get stuff together.” Jason said walking into the house.\n\n“Okay, I’ll just be a minute.” I replied.\n\nThe inside of the house was just as I remembered it. The smells, the furniture, the…wait… I don’t remember so many empty spots on the wall. Mom always had pictures plastered everywhere; baby pictures of all the nieces and nephews, ball games, friends, family, everything. Where is that picture of me when…when I was what? What am I looking for? \n\nI lost my train of thought after I entered my room. I opened the sliding closet to my left and looked around. I just needed to grab some old instruments, old ball cards, and…a scrapbook? I bent down to take a look at it. Maybe this is where she moved most of the pictures. I opened it, expecting to see a ton of worn out polaroids and 3x5s. But, where are all the pictures? Seems to be a lot of blank pages? The scrapbook looks to be old enough. Why would she move all this stuff around? There I am in elementary and high school. Here I am going off to college, but what about…what about what? \n\nI put down the scrapbook next to me to discover a vhs tape underneath. I actually laughed out loud when I seen it. A vhs tape, ha. Most kids today wouldn’t know what to do with one of these. \n\nI picked it up and turned it around to read the label. Nothing. Wonder what’s on it?\n\nI bent around to look behind me to see if it was still there. Yep. Seventeen inches of pure glory with my face reflecting back at me. I crawled over to the tube TV like some kid watching Saturday morning cartoons. Of course the vhs player was still there. If mom wouldn’t have removed the TV, why would she remove the player? I plopped on my butt and stuck the tape in.\n\nHey that’s me! That’s me from…from when? I look older. Twenties? What was I doing in my twenties? Why is my chest starting to hurt? Just rub it out. Wow, I’m dressed pretty nice, really nice tux. That is a lot of food and nice stuff for a family reunion or something. I’m standing up from a table and…toasting? Why isn’t the audio working on this tape? I can’t hear any…there we go!\n\nThe TV blurted before cutting out again, “..coming out being with us today. This is been an absolutely perfect day, and Victoria and I owe it all to you guys for everything that you have done for us…”. \n\nWhat? Who…who is that? This looks like a…why am I standing next to her? God, my chest hurts. She looks beautiful. Who is that? Come on TV, give me sound! I began to beat on the TV and player, desperately needing to figure out what the hell I was watching.\n\nI see children laughing and playing in a green field, and I think they are laughing. Sound still isn’t back on. No, not a field. That is my mom’s place. Dear God my head is throbbing. I feel, anxiety? Why do I feel anxious? That’s Rory and he was 7. Who the hell is Rory? Who is the other kid? How do I know his name? Shit, I don’t feel good.\n\nThere she is again, Victoria. She looks so perfect. I remember that sun dress. What the hell? No I don’t. Who is filming this? Someone is setting the camera down. It’s me? I’m standing next to her now and…kissing? There is a ring on my ringer. I don’t remember any of this.\n\nI look down at my left hand. See, there is no ring on my…huh, I never noticed that. There is a worn indention in my finger. When the hell did that get there?\n\nI try to stand up but I can’t. Feels like I’m falling through the floor. I can’t see straight. The TV starts blaring children laughing.\n\n“Nicolas!” my mother screams as she runs into the room. \n\nJason and Steven are right behind her. Why do they look so white? They are sweating? It looks like they are scared.\n\n“Mom? What? Hey, you guys look like crap, you…” I try to say, but I feel a wave of nausea overcome me. I regain myself after a few seconds, but everyone is just standing around me. “What is going on?” I ask. “Why is there a tape of me getting married, and why are we at your place, mom, with kids? I don’t remember any of this? Is this some weird joke or something?”\n\nSteven took a deep breath, and began to speak.\n\n“You…Nicolas, I’m sorry man. You got into an accident. It was a fatal accident to everyone, except you.”\n\nSteven took another deep breathe to calm himself, but it was no good. He looked like a mess. Tears started running down his face and he had to set himself down on the floor. Jason stepped over to him and started talking to me.\n\n“You were married once. To Victoria, Steven’s sister. You guys hit it off after you meet in college, got married, and after a few years, had two kids. Then a trucking driver dozed off at the wheel and caused a head on collision, instantly killing Victoria and the kids. He also passed away later on in the hospital, but you, you lived.”\n\nNow Jason was starting to get a bit shaky. I can’t believe this. I was married? I had kids? It’s…it’s too much. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t reason. I hurt, oh God, I hurt. I was married. Victoria, I loved you.\n\n“You were in a coma for about 2 weeks, and when you woke up and learned the news, you couldn’t handle it. You went insane with rage, depression, anger, everything. We tried anything we could to help you, but nothing worked for months. In a last ditch effort that was a combination of drugs, surgery, and electroshock therapy that essentially erased your memory for the last 10 years or so.”\n\nI loved her. Victoria. It hurts. It hurts so much. I was happy. I was joyful. It’s all coming back to fast. I was robbed of my memories? No, they were just trying to help. They care for me. It was Steven’s sister? Holy shit. No wonder he is a mess. \n\n“It was a few more months till you returned to a functioning state. Once you got better, we decided to move in together for support – myself, Steven, and you that is. And that is where we are today. We had just left the rehabilitation center about 3 hours ago.”\n\nThree hours ago? But I remember…do I? What do I remember? I don’t know what to believe anymore. My mother then bent down, put her arms around me, and started to bawl.\n\n“I’m sorry son. I’m so sorry. We tried to make everything alright for you. We tried. We tried so hard.”\n\nNumbness. All I feel numbness…Victoria. The tears started for me. I cried.\n\nI cried, and cried, and cried.", "I held the coins they used to close his eyes.\n\nI sat where he sat. Pipe in his hand and gentle smile. Would he recognise me now. I think not. The world moves on. He was luckier. Unchanging to a childs eye. Without fault and with easily won virtues.\n\nShe busied herself in the scullery. Silently breaking inside. The long meaning of a life shared. The great sorrow of my young life pales in comparison.She turns to and on me.\n\nAs children we are more hopefully. Love shield us from our self. Yet when it is gone. we still remain.Ignored I sit, noisily keening in the corner. The air turns from sadness to fury. \n\n", "A Polaroid photo of Peter King, yellowed and aging, was tucked away in a laminated sheet in my 3rd grade scrapbook. It must have been years since I had thought about that thing, but me and Jackie were cleaning out the closet before we moved into to the new house. Staring at that Polaroid, I felt a memory hit me like a ton of bricks.\n\nConey Island was bustling, the street filled with tourists laughing, pointing, snapping pictures. \"Joey, you know who that is?\" I can still hear Grandma's voice. Her voice was hushed, but excited, like she was sharing some awesome secret with me.\n\n\"That's Peter King, he's on TV.\" My eight year old eyes must have been so wide. A man who was on TV? He must have been one important guy. So we both sat there, giggling at the old man eating his Nathan's hot dog in the summer sun. I remember now.\n\nSo I sat there, laughing at that tiny two inch photo, until the tears made it all blury and my heart hurt from the memories. God, I miss that lady." ]	3
Sequel to http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2dd955/wp_your_alarm_clock_goes_off_and_you_wake_up/	[WP] Your alarm clock goes off and you wake up fifteen years ago, so does everyone else.	[ "I love summer! I get to hang out with all my friends and go swimming, and NO SCHOOL! My best friends are Erik and Andrea, but in a couple years Erik will stop talking to me, and by high school me and Andrea will drift apart. Funny how friends come and go. Wait. How did I know that? \n\nNow I remember, I'm not 9- I'M TWENTY FOUR. What happened? I went to sleep in 2014, and woke up in 1999? I guess maybe it's cause for celebration- no work, no responsibilities, a chance to see old friends and family members that will pass away in the coming years. \n\nBut how do I return to 2014? Do I have to go through 15 years to get there? Oh, please don't make me do high school again! \n\n-------------------------------------------\n\nWalking through my old house, reminded me of all the memories I had in it, but when I found my parents bedroom the truth of the matter changed. My parents were having a conversation about waking up 15 years prior to the night before. It wasn't just me, it was all of us. Perhaps everyone in the world. \n\nSuddenly, there was only one thing on my mind. This is my chance. Timing was off for us before, we found each other too late. I'm going to track him down, and we will find each other and use our new past make a real future together. ", "The sunlight burst through the window, and the ambient sounds of birds chirping threw me out of dream land. As I open my eyes, I see that my plain blue sheets have been replaced with a set of brightly colored Crayola themed sheets . The alarm is going off, but it sounds like it's coming from another room. It then occurred to me, how did I see the sunlight when I sleep in a basement with no windows? Perplexed, I roll over and look out the window, only to see that I am no longer in the city, but back in Nebraskan suburbia. I was only here for a year in '99 while my dad was in-between jobs. \n\nGetting out of bed, I realize I'm only half the size I should be, and that the alarm is coming from my parent's room. As I realize the situation at hand and a flurry of thoughts begins to stir in my mind. I suppose the source of the alarm makes sense though, as my dad hasn't given me that alarm clock yet. Going to the mirror, instead of pajama shorts I see matching Rugrats pajamas, with a picture of Reptar patterned through them. \n\nRealizing that the events of my childhood haven't happened yet, I run downstairs to see my parents, together for the first time in years. The thoughts of what to tell them begin flooding through my mind. To insure my mom never relapses back into smoking, and for dad to never take the night shift at his new job in a few years. So many tragedies of life that I can prevent! But before I can speak, I see the looks on my parent's eyes, like something sucked the life out of them. It's apparent they have had the same experience I had. Looking at their faces, I realize their eyes look the same as the day they sat me down to talk about the divorce. As I sit down a the table with them, I realize that I may be a child, but my innocence was long gone.\n\n(Throwaway because this is mostly autobiographical, also my first post to Reddit, so...woo! I haven't written anything in years, and feedback would be appreciated.)\n\nEdit-Formatting." ]	2
	[WP] Your character is in captivity. Having been starved for a week, their captors give them a meal.	[ "Its been a week since these English dogs had captured me near London. They have yet to give me food. When I told them they were violating the rules of war they just laughed. My guard said that the rules of war were for soldiers not spies. \n\nGiven the carnage we'd inflicted on their city I can understand and accept their choice to starve me. However on the seventh day of my imprisonment they became truly sadistic. A man in a black suit threw open the door to my cell. At first I thought i was dreaming as the smell of cooked meat filled my nostrils. But sadly i was not. \n\n\"Let me guess you wont feed me unless i tell you about my mission!\" I yelled in the loudest voice my weakened body could muster.\n\n\"No in fact it's the opposite i will feed you unless you talk\". He spoke calmly almost apologetically.\n\n\"What thats not going to make me talk\"\n\n\"It will because were feeding you British food\" So saying he pulled the silver lid off the platter. Laid before me were all manner of hideous creations I'd only read about. \nA pickled eel sandwich , blood pudding, a fried Ox tongue and a star-gazy pie. \n\nWith an evil cackle he left. I wouldnt betray the fatherland so I crawled towards the food and took the only option I had left. Plunging the fork into my throat. \n\nStargazy pie:\nhttp://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/40/Baked_stargazy_pie.jpg", "I’ve been captured by some barbaric brutes, trapped in a strange land I do not know and forced into submission. When just the other day I was living a life filled with freedom and adventure, here I was now hungry and lonely. \nI had been transported to some foreign domain, an isolated location where my screams and shouts were lost to the wind. Upon arriving, they forced a collar on me, identifying me as their property. I could not get it off, and the feeling of subjugation weighed down on me. For some reason my captors did not restrict my movement. They isolated me in my own personal cell and watched me try to escape, no doubt laughing at my failed attempts. However this desolate place had taken its toll, I was hungry and quite tired. My captors offered me water so I would not dehydrate, but yet would not stifle my hunger for long. I howled furiously for some kind of nourishment, but my barbaric captors continued to ignore my pleas. They taunted me with tantalizing smells coming from outside my cell, and it nearly drove me insane. \nAfter what seemed like days, they brought me my first meal. I jumped right into it face first and gobbled everything down like it was the most palatable dish there ever was. It tasted dry and bland, but my senses had been numbed due to my hunger and my stomach was happy for the nutrition. After my meal my captors looked upon me with quiet smirks, I was irritated by this but I knew I could not allow myself to show displeasure. I then walked over to my captors and purred happily as I rubbed against their legs.", "I could smell the yeast as soon as the hallway door outside my cell slammed open, waking me on the bare concrete floor. The comforting scent in stark contrast to the clinical setting I have been confined to for the last week. The overwhelming chemical stench coming from the drain hole, the sanitizing solution-so cold, that they sprayed down my cell with, nothing could mask the scent of it, bread. My mouth watering now in anticipation as the boot steps near my cell door.\n\n The door, the most interesting thing in my room, made from clear plexiglass so thick that it blurs anything on the opposing side. Covered with thin slots running vertically it's entire height, my only connection to the world. A few days ago, maybe, I awoke to a water packet dropping to the floor and the sound of boots trailing down the hallway. After greedily consuming the water I entertained myself by folding the empty packet into a flower shape, like a less refined version of origami. It was a nice added touch to my otherwise bare room. Sadly during the next days cell sanitation my flower disappeared down my drain hole in a torrent of luke warm water and chemicals. I sat there naked, huddling, waiting to dry out and warm up, looking at my once again bare room. \n\nThe boot steps stop outside my door and I make out the familiar figure of my guard. He has never spoken a word to me. \n\nA sliding tray in the middle of the heavy plexiglass barricade opens and there it is. Angels sing on high and a beam of light shines from above through my already brightly lit home. Sitting on the square brown paper tray is one piece of bread and another square block that appears to be food. I grab the tray and set it ceremoniously on the floor. The crust around the bread is evenly golden, the inside white and fluffy. The slot in my door produces another treat, two of the small sealed water bags! My thirst overwhelms my senses and I rip open one of the water packets and quickly drink it, using my fingers to chase every drop into my mouth. \n\n Now for the food. Do I eat the bread first or the mystery cube? Maybe eat part of the cube and then the bread? I feel ridiculous thinking like this. A little over a week ago I sat a table filled with food, surrounded by friends. Now I am naked hovering over a paper tray like a fiend making,what seems to me, a life changing decision over which measly offering to eat first. I should feel despair but I can't help but look at everything and laugh. I have got a pretty good day ahead of me. After I partake in my delicious looking bread and deal with my mystery cube, I will relax and sip my last water packet. I will even have some new decorations to brighten up the place for a day. ", "The hunger was the worst of it. Not the rats, or the roaches, or even the smell. It was the hunger. Before the North Korean Army captured my unit during the initial invasion, I saw what hunger can do, first hand. Serving with the Rangers for over twenty years, I saw what hunger can do to a people first hand in Somalia. But you'd never think it'd get this bad. But it did. At first, I was glad they didn't execute me right there on the spot. But I was soon wishing they did. The daily beatings left me weak, and the lack of food never helped me any. So I counted. I counted the hours, the minutes since my last meal. After 162 hours, I stopped counting. More time passed, and more beatings happened. I knew there were other prisoners from my unit, but I never saw them. All I had was three concrete walls and a steel slab for a door. After about a week, they rounded up the men from my unit, and put us into a large yard. It was noon, and the prison guards shined large spotlights in our face. I saw that there was only twenty of us left. The rest must have been killed, or worse. A rough voice came up on the intercom, announcing that there would be one meal. For the victor. The lights dimmed, there we were. The guards at the edge shouted \"Fight! Fight,\" shooting the man next to me. I knew what had to be done. They may have been my friends, but survival was more important. I lunged at the man in front of me, tackling him to the ground. Beating him senseless. That makes 18 left. All around me, friends turned to foe, their raw survial instincts kicking in. I spotted a close friend near by, pinned to the wall by another soldier. Grabbing a rock, I charged at my new found enemy, and clobbered him with the rock until the rock split. Pinned against the wall, me and Jerry made and unspoken alliance right then and there, knowing one of us is gonna die. But for now, survival was more important, and there was three more guys heading for us. Putting up my fists, I ducked as the first guy came at me, and I brought my elbow down on his head, splitting it. Jerry had grabbed one guy by his head and smashed it on his knee, and was dealing with the last guy himself. There was only four of us left, as some of the guys tried running instead of fighting. Me and Jerry had charged at the last two guys. Swinging my fist, I caught my CO in the lower jaw. About a month ago I would have given my left nut for a chance like that. Looks like i'm about to give more than my life. My CO had managed to make a basic shank while he was away, and he swung it at me. Grabbing his arm, I twisted the shank free, falling to the ground. Grabbing his jaw, I landed another punch right in his gut, knocking him to the ground. He made a grab for the shank, but a quick boot to the face put an end to all that. I picked up the shank, and turned to Jerry. He was chocking out the 2nd Lt. \"It's you or me Jerry. I'm sorry friend.\" Tears streaming from my eyes, I slashed at his throat. As the blood slowly seeped from his neck, he muttered something. \"I forgive you\" was all he said. \"Good work American! Here is your, 'meal.'\" A small box was thrown at my feet. Opening, I realized it was empty. The officer was laughing like a mad man. As the guards carried me away, I screamed. The North Korean officer might have gotten a kick out of this, but that scream will haunt his dreams for an eternity.", "Food. Hunger. Food. I can't stop thinking about it. They haven't fed me for a week I think. I'm trying to keep track of time, but they left me here in this solitary room. There are no windows, so I don't know what day it is. I don't know why they took me in the first place! It wasn't my fault. I didn't mean to touch their God. I didn't even know that such people worshipped trees like that. I was being chased! They can't honestly kill me for trying to get away from a savage beast like that. It was going to kill me! Honestly, I didn't even have any idea that people lived on this island. They walked in on me then, pacing and talking to myself, lack of food is driving me crazy. \"You.\" the Chief of the tribe addressed me. \"You intrude on Nui land. You touch almighty Deus. You must pay.\" While throwing a piece of meat at me he says \"Eat. You need strength for payment\" He swiftly walks out and leaves me to eat my food. It only dawns on me after I've finished eating that it seems like I'm going to face my death. Or perhaps worse. My mind then drifts off towards the thoughts of my friends, my family. You know, like it does when you're facing the end of your life. I'm overcome with anger and sorrow. I will miss my family and my annoying little sister, but, I will not miss my stupid friends that sent me over here in the first place. They were the ones that sent me to my death. They told me to come on this stupid island. They practically shoved me onto that boat, it was either I go, or they were going to send my sister. I wasn't about to let an 11 year old come on this island with all the rumours that there were about it. I find water on my cheeks at the thought of my baby sister. I'm crying? I never cry! This is stupid. I wipe away the tears and lay my head down, thinking that I'll just sleep it off. My sleep was interrupted by the huge bang of the door being swung open. 4 muscular men walk in and grab me by my hands and feet and carry me out of my cell. The Chief laughs as I pass \"You pay now. You not last long.\" He keeps laughing hard while I get carried away completely frozen with fear. They throw me into this make-shift arena and I come face to face with the savage beast that I was trying to get away from in the first place. It's staring a me like I'm something to eat. I presume that, that is exactly what I am. The Chief raises his hand, the spectators go quiet and they let go of the rope that is keeping the creature back. This is where it got interesting. Rather than trying to kill me, the creature just stared at me, like it was expecting something. I look around, and I notice that oddly, no one was looking at the creature. In fact, people seemed to be taking extra care not to look at it. respect I thought. That's what it wants. But how to do that. My heart is racing as my mind sorts through all the ways to show respect. The best way is to bow or curtsey, like you do for royalty, right? So I bow, slowly, taking extra care to not look it in the eyes. The creature bowed back, in it's own sort of way. It then put it's head to mine, and the strangest thing happened. I could hear it's thoughts It said \"Well done. You are the first to figure it out. Ride me. You are part of the tribe now. One of the best. One of the most important. Respect is one thing. But riding me is something no outsider has ever done. They will worship you.\" I'm too shocked to speak, so I just get on the creature, carefully. It then straightens up so it is standing. The spectators, including the Chief, gasp and stare, a low muttering breaks out amongst the crowd. The Chief silences them by raising his hand. He then puts that same hand over his heart and gets on his knees in respect to me. The crowd follows his lead. They accepted me into their tribe and called me Omnipotens. Thus begun my life as a Demi-God." ]	5
	[WP] Start a story with the line, "Come with me. There's no time to explain."	[ "\"Come with me. There's no time to explain.\" cried the midget troll. My first instinct was to pull away from his grasp, but something in his earnest gaze made me trust him. Besides, I wasn't sure I could pull away even if I wanted to, he had quite a grip for someone his size.\n\nStill clasping my hand, we ran as quickly as we could, down darkened alleyways; our feet slapping against worn cobblestones, and other less savory things. I only had a moment to gather my wits, as we paused for a quick and fragrant breath, in front a fishmongers. \n\nAn actinic bolt shot down from the heavens, and where it touched down, people and flagstones were sent flying into the air. The thunder that followed, rattled the teeth in my skull, and caused the very earth to shudder. \n\nAs I slowly regained my senses and feet, I noticed a lone figure emerge from the center of the lightning crater. I tried to repress my laughter as I saw my brother, bald as the day he was born, standing before me. \"LOKI!!\" he roared \"I would have words with thee!\". ", "\"Come with me, there's no time to explain!\"\n\nSara's hand reached over the chasm to clasp Bob's while the thunder in the distance made him think of two giant trucks colliding.\n\nShe sounded frantic and Bob didn't need an explanation anyway. The zombies were hot on his trail. \n\n\"There's a bunker,\" she said. \n\n\"Survivors?\"\n\nShe squeezed his hand.\n\n\"No.\"\n\nThat single word pierced Bob's heart like an ice knife. Late autmn rain drenched them in coldness but his schocked brain didn't register it. \n\n\"Then maybe we should stop.\"\n\n\n------\n\n-218", "\"Come with me. There's no time to explain.\"\n\"Grandpa I really need to write this paper is there any way this could wait?\" Grandpa put his hands in his pockets and walked away remembering a time when his grandchildren would have followed him anywhere if he had asked. He lost himself in thought and suddenly found himself in his attic. He walked over to a familiar truck and pulled out an old military uniform, a dusty black and white photo, and an old army issue handgun. Taking the gun apart came as naturally to him as tying his shoes and after cleaning it he placed it down by his side. He looked at the photo and immediately his eyes fell on James. James was the type of friend you never forget even after 40 years without him James's laughter still rung in his ears. He could clearly see James running into the tent and grabbing him only saying, \"come with me. There's no time to explain.\" Without realizing it he had packed up the trunk and walked down the attic steps. as he reached the bottom of the stairs he noticed the gun was still in his hand. If his grandchildren weren't going to come with him, he would have to follow them instead. He didn't even hear the sound of the gunshots over the roar of James's familiar laughter in his head." ]	3
	[WP] An extremely religious man convinces his wife to commit suicide so he can be with another woman without breaking their wedding vows.	[ "\"Maaaary!\" \nThe screen door snapped shut as he staggered into the room, our room.\n\"Maaaaaaary! I got a preeeesent for you!\" \n I shivered as I heaved myself off the bleary pile of clothes on the bed. I'd been asleep, like the slothful waste I am. I should not have slept, there was so much to do. \n I stumbled upright with an arm full of clothes trying to straighten my hair, as his right hand caught mine. He had always been so strong. \n \"Whaat have you done. My Maaary?\" He pulled the pins from my hair and threw them in my face as the smell of mouthwash wafted over. He stared at me with his beautiful, terrible bright eyes. \n \"Invain shaal you make thineself fair! God himself says so!\" He was right. Of course he was right. I shouldn't have done that. I always did everything wrong. \n \"I caan't believe it Mary. Loook at this place.\" He let go of my hand and swung his arm wide around the room. \"You aare not the LOORD and THIS is NOT THE SABBATH\" I know it wasn't. I should not have fallen asleep. I knew better. He was right to scold me. I should do better. I would be better. I bowed my head and started gathering the fallen clothes. \n\"Loook at me MAARY\" He pulled as his shirt. \"Go to thee ant O sluggard, lookk at his ways.. why can'tt you do taht Mary?\" I shook my head in shame, I should look to him always. \n \"Jusst thiink Maary think.\" He droned. \n \"Thiink about what THE LORD has giiven you. A good liefe.. A good faithfuul huusband.. You'rre blest Mary! Thhink about that..\" \n I nodded my head to hide my tears. He was right, he was so right. \n\"I couuld have had another Rebbecca. Or aany other wooman tonight! I haad to hold them off!\" He grabbed my shoulders and stared at my eyes. \"But I coouldn't Mary. I couldn't because I have youu.\" He narrowed his eyes in a scowl. \"I have you 'Til death do uss part.\" \n He threw me to the bed full of clothes where he had me as I cried. I wasn't enough. I couldn't be good enough for a man like him. \n When he finished, he left me there, as he staggered into the kitchen where there was clattering of glass and a rattling of plastic. \n He wandered back in with two filled glasses of wine, sloshing them half out onto the bed as he towered over me. \n\"I proomised you a presentt, didnt I Mary?\" He slurred as he carefully stared at the glasses before handing me one. It was cloudier, with powder at the bottom of the glass swirled like snow in the light of the bulb overhead. \n \"Herre's to your luckk my Maary.\" He sang as he downed his glass. \nI smiled weakly as I drank my present. It was sweet. ", "I really must do this... \n \nAfter all, it is my fault. Everything is my fault. I really didn't mean it though, I tried. I tried to be the very best wife I could. To be the perfect servant of my husband, what God would want me to be. But I've failed. In 5 years I haven't gotten anything right. Even God is punishing me. I see this now, and I can no longer bare the shame.\n \nIf not for all these shortcomings, God would have given us a child by now. (Jo reminds me constanstly) And while I am sitting here in this beautiful house I share with my husband, I know that Mary is living with her two children in their apartment in the dangerous part of town struggling to put food on the table. Mary. I know she loves my husband. He's told me so. Although I've never met or spoken to her, I worry about her like she is family. \n\nJoe has told me every detail about them. He says they met at church (such a longcommute from her neighborhood, but she really felt drawn to the place apparently. I still don't understand how the commute was possible...) She is a single mother who left a life of \"sin\". She had no job any more and is worried about having to go to the homeless shelter and lose her children. \n \nI've told Joe that I understand, gladly offered a divorce; but of course we can't do that, he reminded me. I would hate for him to be separated from his soul mate. He and I have discussed the only way they could be together. \n \nI'm sorry to write you, Joy, after all this time. I know we haven't spoken in 5 years, but before that we were best friends. I just had to say goodbye to someone... \n \nBy the time you get this, I will have been dead a couple days. I wish there was some other way, I really wish things could be different. I will miss you and most of all I will miss the warm summer winds. I'm starting to get so tired, these pills are working faster than I thought... \n \nTake care, my friend. Please remember me kindly." ]	2
What the joke is doesn't matter as long as it's a lame one that a dad would tell	[WP] A serious story that ends in a dad joke	[ "You know who loves a good hollandaise sauce, my dad. In fact, it's why he married my step mom. Apparently, while they were dating, she couldn't cook for shit, so he paid for her to attend some cooking classes on the condition that she learn how to make a good hollandaise, because once she mastered that, he could just pour it over any terrible thing she made.\n\nSo she went to the classes and worked exclusively on making the best hollandaise you've ever had (I've tried it and I can confirm that it's killer). So he starts just slathering this shit on everything...breakfast, lunch and dinner.\n\nFive months later, he goes to the dentist, complaining about how his teeth have started to develop a really rough texture...almost porous in nature. The dentist took a look, and asked my dad if he'd been eating an unusual amount of hollandaise sauce recently. After my dad told him about the cooking classes, the dentist told my dad that he knew exactly what the problem was and how to treat it. He apparently told my dad that hollandaise sauce in large quantities essentially \"melts\" the protective enamel off of your teeth and that it was what caused his teeth to have the aforementioned rough texture; and that the fix was to cover all of the affected teeth with a chrome plating.\n\nWhen the dentist said this, my dad got confused. \"You want to chrome plate my teeth?\" my dad asked him.\n\nThe dentist replied, \"Absolutely...after all, there's no plate like chrome for the hollandaise.\"", "There was glass everywhere. \n\nMy little brother and I were just fooling around, wrestling. Maybe it got a little out of control. I was chasing him around the house, hiding behind things and jumping out, tackling him. We'd thrash about, he'd get loose and we'd start over again.\n\nHe was coming around the kitchen island when his left foot hit some water on the floor that we probably spilled earlier. Anyway, his foot slid and he lost balance and went straight through the sliding door that led to the deck.\n\nLike I said, there was glass everywhere. His leg was cut in about a dozen places. Not bad but there was a lot of blood. As luck would have it, Jimmy went through the door at the same time Dad walked in from mowing the lawn. \n\nHe saw us and ran over, looked at Jimmy's leg. His concern was quickly turning to anger at the mess we'd made. \n\n\"Jimmy\" he said, in a controlled voice. \"your leg doesn't seem too bad. Can you stand on it?\" Jimmy nodded, too scared to talk. \n\n\"How's your back?\" Jimmy mumbled \"ok\"\n\n\"What about your head? It looks bruised. Does your face hurt?\" Dad asked.\n\nJimmy nodded no.\n\n\"Well it's killin' me\"", "‘Knock…knock’ the sound resonated throughout the house as I stand at my father’s door waiting for a response. Anything other than “It’s 2 O’clock in the morning what the fuck do you want” would be a relief. \n\n“Come in” replied an irritated, raspy voice.\n\n“Hey dad just wanted to see if you had a second to talk, Sarah’s been acting really distant and weird these past couple of days and I can’t seem to figure out why.”\n\n“That’s what you woke me up for?” He could see the look of pure and utter desperation in my eyes and rather than shoo me away replied with “alright make it quick, what’s going on with you and Sarah?” His stern, annoyed voice made it sound more like an accusation rather than a question.\n\n“I don’t know what I could have done but this is the first time in the whole month we’ve been together that she’s gotten mad at me. She called me an asshole today after I tried to kiss her followed by telling me to go home and to leave her alone for a few days.” Keep in mind this is the first girlfriend I’ve ever had so things that may seem like common sense to some are brand new to me. Anyways there I stood, just you’re average 15 year old kid, looking for some insight into the female psyche from someone who has to know more in this category than any of my teenage friends. \n\nI took one nervous breath and said, “Looking around online I read that girls start to go through some changes once they reach a certain age, is that true?” My eager young mind begging to be filled with the secrets a man who managed to keep my mom happy for 25 years must have hidden somewhere in the recesses of his memory.\n\n“Of course that’s true, you’re probably going through some changes now yourself so it shouldn’t be too hard to imagine a young woman is experiencing this as well. I’m sure it’s nothing to get too worked up over, she’s probably just having a rough week.” I was stunned he was able to give me such a straight forward answer especially considering the time it was when my racing mind decided to seek his advice. After studying his words for a few seconds I accepted them as the only logical explanation for Sarah’s recent lack of affection towards me. \n\nA few moments of silence passed and all I could think to say was, “I guess it’s her time of the month huh dad.” As I got up and nudged him in the side I felt a smirk begin to spread across my face. It didn’t take long for it to fade however as my father eyes darted through the dimly lit room to meet mine. \n\nHe sat up, took a deep breath and said, “Listen to me because I’m only going to tell you this once understand?” I nervously shook my head in agreement half expecting a fuck off now go to bed after that childish joke I whipped up a few second ago. Instead he lowered his voice and said something that made me groan louder than you’d imagine possible. \n\nHe looked up at me and replied, “PMS jokes are not funny. Period.” ", "\"Shut the fuck up, Sid.\"\n\n\"Hmmph?\" came the muffled reply, followed by a repulsing, clear gulp. \"Whatcha doin' now?\"\n\n\"Chew with your goddam mouth shut and listen!\"\n\n\"Chaaarleeesss...\" The voice was faint.\n\n\"Huh, thas pretty cool, how ya doin that?\" said Sid in his clumsy manner, mouth full of cold pizza.\n\n\"That's not me you goddam moron! Stay quiet and listen.\" The two men sat together in the dimly lit apartment room. Their faces said that they were thinking, however their eyes said differently. After a couple minutes sitting in awkward silence the voice returned.\n\n\"Chaarleeesss...\" The voice was raspy, and the volume increased at the end of the 's' , as if it were a shouted whisper. \n\n\"H-h-how ya think it knows your name?\"\n\n\n\n\"I don't fucking care.\"\n\n\"Is comin' from out there\" Sid stamme.red as he gestured toward the door that led to the hallway.\n\n\"No shit Sherlock. We are going to go out there and find who is messing with us at 2 fucking o'clock in the goddam morning.\"\n\n\"W-w-we?\" Sid managed to spit out slowly backing up to the wall.\n\n\"C'mon, don't tell me you're scared you big wus. What's some teenage punk gonna do to a big ole guy like you?\"\n\n\"Chaaarleeesss...\" The voice came again.\n\n\"That don sound like any teenager I know of.\"\n\n\"Get the fuck out here with me\" Charles said as he opened the door. The hallway was an erie place at this hour. The single light flickered on and off with its papery white glow on the concrete walls and floor. The skylights were no help. Charles gestured for them to stay quiet and still. The waited a minute. Two minutes. Five minutes. \"Aight see Sid we scared them of-\"\n\n\"Chaaarlesss...\" The voice was noticeably louder than before.\n\n\"Shit. Sid, Let's go.\"\n\n\"Nuh-uh\"\n\n\"Sid!\"\n\n\"No Charlie I ent goin' witchu no more\"\n\n\"Sid get your ass over here!\" Like a puppy who had just been scolded, Sid slowly walked over, face down. \"Let's go.\" The two walked down the hall for ten paces and stopped.\n\n\"Chaarlesss...\" The voice grew louder and faster. Another ten paces. Again the voice would call out to Charles, a little bit louder and a little bit clearer than the previous time. This repeated until the two reached the door at the end of the hall.\n\nIn the faintest whisper Sid said behind Charles. \"Ok Charlie don't ya think wes should be goin' back now?\"\n\nTo which Charles replied at equal volume. \"Yeah Sid I'm going to agree with you now, let's head back.\"\nThe two began to tiptoe back but as they turned it happened one last time.\n\n\"Charles.\" The voice was no longer a whisper, but at normal conversational volume. There was no mistake that the noise was behind the door. Charles looked at Sid, made eye contact, nodded, and reached for the door knob. It was unlocked. \n\n\"I'm scared\" whispered Sid, dripping in sweat as the door opened. \n\n\"Hello scared,\" the voice replied, \"I'm Dad.\"\n\n \n ", "Warning: this is a serious story about race, and it may offend some. \n \nDew had already soaked the grass by the time the two boys had crept into the neighborhood. The night was much colder than the nights that preceded it and crickets everywhere seemed to voice their complaints to the bright moon overhead. \n\"It's cold as hell out here, Curt,\" Steven whispered. Curt slugged him in the shoulder and hushed him. \n\"Keep yer mouth shut, Steve. These coons have hearing like bats,\" Curt hissed. \nThey sneaked a bit further and Steve mumbled, \"Bats are blind. Not deaf.\" \nCurt pulled his hand up, and Steven flinched away from him. \n\"I'm not gon' hit you, ya puss. This fuckin' cross is just heavier'n shit. Give me a hand, would ya?\" \nSteve sighed and grit his teeth, but finally he lifted the back end so it would stop dragging. \n\"Are you sure we should be doin' this?\" Steve asked timidly. \nCurt sighed in exasperation and said, \"Course we should. Now shut up I said. That's the house up there.\" He pointed up to a large house at the end of the street. Light from a large window in the front illuminated the porch and swing that wrapped around the front of the house. \n\"There's a light on, Curt,\" Steven said. \n\"Never mind that. We'll be gone by the time they realize what done happened to 'em.\" Curt laughed and slowly entered the house's front yard. \nSteven let the cross fall to the ground and Curt shot him a look that could kill. \n\"I can't do this, Curt. We don't know these people. We shouldn't do this to them.\" \nCurt spit tobacco on the ground and sighed in disgruntlement again. \"Look, boy. They niggers. And they ain't no such thing as a nigger that don't deserve nothing bad. This is just us givin' them what they got comin' to 'em. So shut yer face and help me set up the cross. We'll set it on fire, and git. Quit bein' such a fuckin' pussy.\" \nSteven looked past Curt and up at the house. He admired the beautiful hanging plants they had put up and thought of the ones his mother had hanging at home. He clenched his jaw and said, \"No, Curt. They ain't done nothin' to us. We don't know 'em. I'm not doin' this.\" \nCurt rolled his eyes and spat, \"Fine, you backstabbin' piece of shit. I don't need yer help. I'll do it alone.\" \nSteve raised his eyebrow as he looked down at the nearly 7 foot cross. \"You're going to put it up yourself?\" Steve asked him. \nCurt sighed and rolled his eyes once more. \"No, you queer. Dont be stupid. I'm gon' put it up in their yard here.\"", "When I was 14, I had a best friend named Dave.\n\nDave & I hung out all the time. He lived a few blocks away from me for most of our childhood, but shortly after he turned 13, his mom moved to the east side of town, and I saw him less frequently, though we still hung out on weekends, and spent pretty much the entire summer together.\n\nOne summer day, I convinced my dad to take me over to Dave's house to spend a week or so there. We arrived, and Dave's mom, Linda, said I couldn't stay over, because they had a family emergency. Linda's brother had fallen and hurt his hip, and the live-in caretaker who had been looking after him was out of town. Beyond that, she said it would be a bad week, because Dave had a pretty terrible summer cold.\n\nWell, Dave & I begged her, and she conceded, so I was able to join them as they took a road trip to Dave's uncle's house in northern Kentucky.\n\nThe four hour car ride was rather miserable. Linda was worried about her brother, and Dave kept coughing, sneezing, and blowing his nose, but we were able to play some Pokemon (red & blue) in the back seat. We made several stops to get more tissues and orange juice, and Dave picked up a big bag of cough drops.\n\nWe eventually reached Dave's uncle's house, a large farmhouse on a massive plot of land. Linda practically ran to the door, while Dave & I unpacked the car. When we came in, we saw Dave's uncle, who was surprisingly much older than Dave's mom, just sitting on the couch, looking perfectly fine. Linda still insisted on taking him to the nearest hospital, which was another hour away. She asked if Dave & I wanted to go along, or stay there at the house, and we decided we had spent enough time in the car, and that we would just remain at his uncle's house.\n\nSo, Linda and Dave's uncle (Robert, I think) left, and Dave & I closed the door behind them. When we did, we noticed a large jar of pennies behind the door. It was a water-cooler jug, filled to the top with pennies. Dave & I reasoned that there must have been a hundred dollars worth of pennies in that jug. Our mental gears started turning.\n\nDave told me that his uncle was very cheap, and that his thrift meant he probably had a lot of money saved, and likely hidden in the house. We discussed that, if he had a jar of pennies, maybe he had a jar of nickles. If he had a jar of nickles, maybe he had a jar of dimes. If he had a jar of dimes, maybe he had a jar of quarters! If he had a jar of quarters, we could raid it, take $12, and order a pizza!\n\nSo, we began searching the house for the mystic and legendary jar of quarters. We searched the first floor, then the second, then made our way into the basement. The top two floors were well-kept, though a little folksy, but the basement was scary. It was an old root cellar, with access through the creakiest staircase in the state, as well as through an old hatch that led outside. The large basement was lit by a single hanging light bulb, which shone so dimly it barely illuminated the immediate area surrounding it, let alone the distant corners of the room.\n\nWe decide we need flashlights, so Dave goes back upstairs and gets two of them from the kitchen. The entire time, I can hear him above me, not only by the floorboards creaking, but from his sniffles and coughs as well. He returned moments later, and we flipped the switches on the flashlights, only to find that the batteries in one of them were dead.\n\nNot to be deterred, we searched with a single flashlight, until we found something unusual. Along one of the earthen walls was a shelf with a few old dirty tools on it. The shelf appeared to have a wooden backing to it, but the backing was slightly differently colored, and jutted out along the edges. When we examined it closer, we found that the backing wasn't even attached to the shelf, but was instead built in to the wall, and, though it looked to be just an old doorknob on the shelf, the shelf was just aligned perfectly to hide that the knob was attached to the wall. There was a secret door there!\n\nDave & I cleared the old tools off of the shelf, and moved the wooden structure to the side, revealing, as we had suspected, a hidden door. We opened the door, which creaked worse than the stairs, and saw a long hall, made of dirt, with wooden bracing along the way. The hall went forward about a hundred feet, then seemed to turn sharply to the right.\n\nWe discussed the purpose of the hidden hall, and decided that, in northern Kentucky, it could have been used for the underground railroad. The house was, after all, very old, and on a very large plot of land, so our reasoning made sense, as we decided to explore further.\n\nWe entered the hall, Dave taking the lead, as he had the only working flashlight, and approached the turn. When we turned with the hall, it led another fifty feet or so, and then became a dead end. What alarmed us was the object at the end of that section of the hall. A coffin. An old wooden coffin.\n\nWe made a few jokes about the coffin to hide our dread, jokes about where Dave's aunt was, and about vampires (since Dave's uncle's bed was so neatly made, and looked to never have been slept in) and other such jokes to lessen the palpable fear in the air. Finally, I mustered my courage and decided to open it. Dave agreed that, his uncle was cheap, but also creepy, and thus a hidden coffin in a hidden hall in the root cellar was the perfect place to hide his money. Greed getting the better of me, I opened the coffin.\n\nThe moment my hand brushed the lid, the coffin shook. We heard creaking behind us, and ran back to the corner of the hall, where Dave shined the flashlight back toward the entrance, revealing the door had closed behind us. We then heard a thud from the dead end, and he spun the flashlight around to reveal that the coffin had stood up on its end!\n\nAs though on tracks in a fun house, the coffin began moving toward us. We panicked and ran back to the door. We had failed to realize when we entered, that the doorknob was only on the outside, not the inside, and so were stuck in the hall. I tried prying the door open, as Dave kept the flashlight on the hall behind us. The coffin moved around the corner, and then began flapping its lid at us, as if to swallow us!\n\nDave was screaming in fear, nearly crying, adding more mucus to his sniffles than usual. I took off one of my shoes and threw it at the coffin, hoping to knock it over, but the lid opened and it swallowed my shoe. Dave threw the flashlight, and again, the coffin swallowed it. Now the only light was coming from the coffin, as it approached us, flapping its lid, clearly ready to consume us. I curled into a ball against the door, ready to cry, not wanting to die. Dave reached into his pocket, and threw something else at the coffin. The object was gulped into the coffin, which then stopped moving, and fell flat on the ground. The door opened. We were saved.\n\nI stood up and we both ran into the cellar, then upstairs, where we finally felt safe. I tuned to Dave, and asked him if all of that really just happened, and he assured me it did. I asked him what the hell he threw in the end, that saved us both.\n\nHe replied: \"Hall's Cough Drops. Guaranteed to stop the coffin every time.\"", "Benny never took anything lightly. He was specifically taking nothing lightly as he scanned the beach for seashells. It was serious work, finding seashells, considering it was how Benny made his living. This particular day seemed like any other--a silver dollar here, half of a clam shell there. It was such an average, mundane day that Benny suspected nothing when he noticed the edge of a copper rod sticking out of the sand.\n\nMore trash, thought Benny, as he reached down to pull the rod from its place on the shore. He often discovered the leavings of less considerate beach goers on his journeys along the beach, and took it upon himself to remove the garbage that might distract him from future shell cultivation. As he pulled at the rod it slipped from his fingers, as if he was trying to lift a full cup which he expected it to be empty. Trying again, this time with the full force of his arm, he withdrew the copper rod and discovered that it was neither copper, nor a rod. It was the tip of a bronze object that Benny barely recognized, but could recall from a bygone era. An oil lamp. Not unlike one that his grandfather had kept on a shelf in his den, but more closely resembling the oil lamps of India that he had seen in history books and antique shops.\n\nA wave of excitement came over Benny as he rinsed the artifact in a particularly powerful wave that indicated the evening high tide. There was an inscription on the side of it that Benny could scarcely make out, much less read (as Benny had no knowledge of Sanskrit, or Arabic, or whatever the case may have been), but as he brushed away the sand which obscured it, a very curious thing happened. The lamp began to shake violently in his hands, it became bright and alive, its corroded body seemed to pull itself away from Benny's hands as if it were a bird struggling to take flight. In fear, Benny relinquished, and the bronze lamp emitted a sputtering of smoke and gas. \n\nBefore it had hit the ground, Benny was standing face to face with a man dressed in garb as ancient as the lamp. He was foreign, Benny knew that much. Perhaps of the same origin as the lamp. His shoes and pants were made of a hand sewn linen and seemed to be as old and worn as the man himself, who was white haired with a full, long beard and dark, deep set eyes.\n\n\"Holy hell who are you and where did you come from?!\" gasped Benny, as another wave hit his legs, yet seemed not to wet the man before him.\n\n\"I am al-Jinn,\" said the man, \"And I come from a dimension beyond your world.\"\n\n\"No shit,\" replied Benny, \"and I suppose you're here to grant me three wishes?\"\n\n\"Only one,\" said al-Jinn, unblinkingly. Benny was convinced that he was hallucinating, or dreaming. This kind of B.S. only happens to folks on drugs, he thought. He brought his hand to his chin, and remembered that he seldom took anything lightly, even his most lucid dreams.\n\nIf this is really happening, I ought not waste a perfectly good wish, he mused. \"Alright, Mr. Al Gin, I know what I want to wish for.\"\n\n\"Very well, but know this: Your wish and your life will last only as long as you do not cut the hair of your face. A single deliberate clip will result in your death. Now, what do you desire?\"\n\n\"I wish for wealth,\" said Benny, practically ignoring the words of the Jinn. No sooner than the words had parsed his lips, both lamp and man were vanished, as if into thin air.\n\nGood lord, thought Benny, I must have stepped on a hypodermic needle with something still in it. He rushed home to his beach shack and scrubbed his body in the shower before hopping into bed and falling into a deep, deep sleep.\nWhen he awakened, Benny was surrounded by a harem of beautiful women.\n\n\"It's time to get up, master.\" Benny looked around and did not recognize his surroundings. \n\nOh god, I'm still on drugs. He dove from the bed and ran to what he believed was the nearest exit, a glass door through which the light of a setting sun shined. As he burst through the door he realized that he was on a balcony, three stories above the spot where his beach shack had once been planted. \n\n\"Master, are you alright?\" asked another member of the bevy of gorgeous women who pursued him.\n\n\"NO, I AM NOT ALRIGHT, WHAT IS HAPPENING?\"\n\n\"Master, don't you recognize your own home?\" \n\nBenny was in disbelief. What kind of drug is this powerful and lasts this long? he wondered.\n\nAnd so it went. For the first week, and into the first month of Benny being wealthy beyond his wildest dreams, Benny lived in disbelief. His shells sold as if they were the artwork of a renaissance painter. The home which had disappeared beneath a vast mansion became a memory in the wake of his new life with his harem. \n\nThe money, the women, the ... wealth. It was all, indeed, beyond his wildest dreams. For that reason, Benny let his facial hair grow unhindered. The silly words of the man on the beach became a commandment, and Benny dared not cut the hair of his face, lest he lose the life which he had come to love. For thirty years, Benny lived the life he had always dreamed of, wished for--wealthy beyond his imagination. Now his beard was longer, whiter than the beard belonging to the man on the beach. But it was dirty and decrepit, nasty and unkempt from untouched decades of growth. On this day, a third of a century past his fateful wish, Benny was relaxing in his Jacuzzi with a handful of favorite beauties from his harem.\n\n\"Come on Benny, I want to see what you would look like.\"\n\n\"Yeah Ben, please shave it! How could one shave hurt you?\"\n\n\"Big Ben, if you will at least trim that beard Sharon and I will let you do that thing you've always wanted to do but we would never let you,\" said one girl with a wink.\n\n\"Alright,\" said Benny, \"I've lived a long and full life, and hell, I doubt that guy still has any hold over me, I can shave if I want!\"\n\n\"Do it! Do it! Do it!\" pronounced the chorus of feminine voices from the Jacuzzi. Benny marched into one of several bathrooms on the first floor of his beach mansion and grabbed a razor meant for women's legs from the shower. Unceremoniously, he cut and trimmed and shaved until he was as clean shaven as the day he made the wish. With a swagger in his step, Benny walked out to the Jacuzzi and presented his baby soft face to his adoring fans. \n\n\"How do I look?\" asked Benny. \n\n\"So handsome!\"\n\n\"My word!\"\n\n\"I've never seen you like this!\" said the women. Cheers and whistles of adoration were cut short when Benny burst into a sputtering of smoke and gas. There before the handful of favored women lay a bronze urn in Benny's place. \n\nBenny had taken the single condition of his wish just a little too lightly, it seemed. An inscription was etched into the side of the urn. It didn't say his full name, or the dates of his birth and death, nor was it in Sanskrit, or Arabic, or whatever the case may have been. It was in English, and it was only a single sentence. The epigraph on that lonesome bronze jar read, \"A Benny shaved is a Benny urned.\" And that is the moral of the story.", "\nJuly 4th, we all know the day, fireworks, the kabaams, kazaams, houdini magic all over the place, things get hectic. This year was a bit different, only the old man laid on the couch of the July morning, no Ma this year. He looked kinda sad, my pops I mean, gloomy on such a fun holiday must suck. I felt pretty sad too, but only momentarily.\n\nAnywho, the day went on as normal, pops had invited some buds over, had a beer or two, played air hockey, watched some sports, I even got a bit tipsy, now that Ma wasn't around no more. And then night followed through. \n\nFireworks began blasting through the clouds at ten-ish or so; red, green, yellow, it was nice. But of course, I, the dumb kid I was, had other plans for the evening. Stashed deep in my pockets, the master key of the school, and a napsack full of fireworks. I was tingling with excitement.\n\nMy old man gave me the O.K. Man, he was a buzzkill, not even watching the fireworks from the roof like years before. He just sat there, gloomy-faced watching the tele.\n\n'Come on, lets go.' I tugged on his red-black plaid shirt, 'We're leaving this house tonight, we're gonna celebrate.' He looked at me emotionless, 'Come on, for Ma, she loved the fireworks, even more than me. He nodded with an effort, at least he was on-board I supposed.\n\nSo we headed to the school, parked ourselves a block away, and entered through the three-storied building from the back. We made our way up to Mr.Krennel's room, at the east end of the room, third floor. No question about it, it had the best view of the entire school. The large grassfield below, the cityscape afar, the mountains ahead. \n\n'Well, let's start, shall we?' Pops had been silent the whole ride there and the whole walk up, he must've still been thinking. I went on and opened up the window, the warm summer breeze, so gentle... so-- nostalgic. I placed a two against the windowsill and took out a lighter. \n\nThe lighter flared up the material and BOOM, off they went. The array of lights front and center, the best of views. We blasted off another dozen or so, before he went over one of the seats and sat himself down. Hunched over, head low in his arms.\n\n'Hey-- HEY! Don't do this to me!' I screamed. It was unfair, why did he get to sulk... Why couldn't I? 'You don't do this right now, you understand young man?' God, I felt like the grown-up here. 'Y-You... You don't...' I could feel my throat tense up, 'Why...' before I broke down and hugged him. 'Why is the world so unfair dad?'\n\nHe wiped his tears and wrapped his arms around me, 'It's alright son... it's alright.' I calmed myself down and took a seat next to him. Then we began to talk, a hearty talk. He talked of Ma's homemade eggs, her picky attitude, the naggity nags. He talked about the day I came into the world and was best day of her life, he said.\n\n'You know, we met right here in this class.' He said. 'Not at these exact seats, but at the blackboard up there.' He pointed to the whiteboard, \n\n'Dad, that's a whiteboard.' He raised a brow.\n\n'Huh, I guess your right. Well, don't expect me to know. Son, if you didn't notice, I'm an old man. He continued to stare at the whiteboard, looking at it with awe as the fireworks sounded from a distance.\n\n'Hey, you alright dad?'\n\n'Huh? Oh ya, I was just thinking, that whiteboard... Is remarkable.'", "March 22, 2024. Day one.\n\nDad woke me tonight with a harsh whisper, and a hand over my mouth. \nImmediately, I knew what was going on. \"We have to get the fuck out, now.\" No questions or complaining, I grabbed my backpack from beside my bed and the gun from under my mattress. We hid from the windows line of sight, crawling on the floors and into the back yard. The good thing about the small town, was our backyard facing a massive forest. The had to be soldiers in there, but we had to get out of the town as soon as possible.\n\nMach 25, 2024. Day three.\n\nWe've been walking for days, and we've finally reached the old cabin that burnt down several years back. We were supposed to rendezvous there on the third day of the collapse, but dad said we will wait one more day, sleep in the rubble tonight. If they don't show up, I guess we're moving on at dawn. I hope they do come. Strength in numbers. \n\nMarch 26, 2024. Day four.\n\nAlex and his sister caught up to us about a mile's walk from the burnt cabin. They said there was soldiers taking people away in large vehicles, but because they lived in an apartment it was much harder to get away.\n\nMarch 28. Day six.\n\nWe're heading to Base A: Something my father had found on a hunting trip three hundred odd miles away from the town, into the mountains. Last summer we hid MRE's and various supplies out there, just outside of what seemed to be an empty stone hut. The huts were made years ago, for those trying to reach the other side of the mountains--a place to hide from the biting winds. \n\nMarch 31, 2024 Day nine.\n\nAlex's sister has a nasty infection from slipping down a small rock face. We treated it, but it has really slowed us down. It's starting to warm up a bit, the nights aren't as awful anymore. Food is starting to run a little low. Dad said we should be at the there in a day's time.\n\nApril 2, 2024. Day eleven.\n\nWe have roughly one day of food for all of us. We had to take cover, there were huge carrier planes. We could only travel at night, but that was so ungodly dangerous.\n\nApril 3, 2024. Day 12.\n\nWe're out of food. It's gone. I gave my food to dad, he needs it more--he's older. He deserves it.\n\n___________________________________\n[NOTE: Couldn't decide what style, had to get to work and couldn't change it so hooray for random style changes mid-story.]\n_______________\n\nHas the sun always been this bright? My head aches and my body is sore. Alex and Dawn have been coughing. They caught a flu, so they stay way behind us while we lead--we can't rick getting sick. Not out here. \n\"Dad I'm cold.\" My voice cracks. \n\n\"I know, me too.\" He turns to look at me--his eyes sad.\n\n\"Dad, I'm hungry.\" He turns and puts his hand on my shoulder--tears in his eyes. I could see the pain.\n\n\"Hi, hungry. I'm Dad.\"" ]	9
First in a series of turning terrible opening lines into interesting stories.	[WP] Make an interesting story out of a horrible opening line. "You see, I have this candle..."	[ "\"You see, I have this candle..\" whispers the witch. It sure as hell didn't look like any candle I'd ever seen, unless the Devil had an option in Bath and Bodyworks. The \"candle\" was a human hand, brown and heavily wrinkled, almost as if it had been pickled. \n\nEven now, I can only recall fragments of memory. Crazy shadows dance and flicker, around the blue-green flames, as they burn around the fingers without consuming them. The light illuminates a nightmare visage, so disfigured by scars, boils and warts that nothing human remains. \n\nThe witch ransacks my bookstore. She moves like a hurricane through the store, books fly everywhere, glass shatters. \"Where is it?\" she shrieks in frustration. I would answer if I could. I try to speak, to move, but find myself paralyzed, unable to do anything but watch. My limbs feel like wet bags of concrete, my head an anvil. All I want to do is sleep...\n\nWhen I next regained consciousness, I did a quick inventory of the shop. The only thing that went missing was a book, more of a curio really, that I had bought from a Professor of History from Miskatonic University. Out of all those rare, expensive books, why that one? It was practically worthless...", "\"You see, I have this candle...\"\n\nSilence, and a confused stare. Joey waits a few seconds then begins. \n\n\"It's...a joke. It's dark, and the candle produces light. And you can see. Because I have th-\"\n\n\"Joey, just stop. That was lame.\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\nThey both chuckle, and continue down the now illuminated hallway. This was the first abandoned mansion they've sneaked into, but tensions weren't terribly high. They \"practiced\" this by playing a few horror games, and both Joey and Kyle stayed relatively calm throughout, with only a few jumps from Kyle. They couldn't find a lantern, so they stuck with a simple candle for this adventure. Of course their phone lights would be of much better use, but what fun is that?\n\nA creak is heard above them, and Kyle gasps. Joey, unaffected, ventures forward into the next room. \n\n\"It was probably just a ghost, don't worry\" he says, turning his head to direct his voice at Kyle. While doing this, he failed to notice that a figure appeared in front of him, and he crashes into it.\n\nJoey and the figure stumble forward, or backwards for the figure, and crash on the floor. The first thing he notices in that his shirt is now soaking wet. He tries his best to get up, putting his hands next to the thing's head, but his wrists are grabbed by it.\n\nHe stares at it from a planking position. It's eyes are transfixed on his, and it's mouth is small. Almost solemn. He would think that it's just a realistic mannequin, but the hands ensnaring him say otherwise. \n\n\"JESUS CHRIST!\" Joey shouts, as Kyle rushes forward to him. The grip is intense, then finally lets go. Joey stumbles backwards from the sudden release, into Kyle, who tries catching him. The thing on the ground lays there, not moving. The two notice this, and escape as quickly as they can. Kyle pulls Joey up, and they burst through the front door, a few rooms down. Once at the street, beyond the mansion's fence, the two stop. Bending over to catch their breaths, Joey notices the mass of blood on his shirt. \n\n\"Dear God. What the Hell was that?\" Kyle asks in between breaths. They both turn to the mansion, and see the figure in the window. \n\nHer hair is long and white, but her face is that of a young persons. Her shirt has many visible cuts in it, with blood seeping out. She still has the transfixed stare, aiming towards Joey, whose blood turns cold. \n\n\"We...we should go.\" Joey says, and sprints off to the car a few blocks down. Kyle follows suit, leaving the girl in the window to stare. \n\nShe smiles, meekly, and manages to speak a word.\n\n\"Marked.\"\n\nAnd as the car drives off, she fades into the walls of the house, awaiting his return.", "\"You see, I have this candle...\" Mr Jones said. I had to find a way out of this place. I tugged at the ropes binding my hands to no avail.\n\"And the flame here, I could blow out. But, of course, I don't. It keeps the room bright and slightly warmer. However...\" The lights hanging above me flicked on with a clap of his hands. \" Now the flame is irrelevant\" The madman blew it out. \" I am the light. You are the candle. I will render you irrelevant with a press of a button.\"\nI tryed to tip the chair but the henchmen gave me a swift slap round the face.He leaned in towards my face. \"Tommorow at the break of dawn I shall fire the sixth nuclear weapon to be used in combat towards chicago.\" \n\"No.....\" I mumbled.\n\"This will cause Nuclear war amongst the major powers of the world and the demise of society.Why you may ask? Because I despise society. Racism, homaphobia and sexism run rampant in america. So I shall destroy it and rebuild anew. I will becom-\"\n\"NO!...\" I screamed.\n\"Yes\" He pushed the button. And then there was darkness.\n", "\"You see I have this candle...\" \nI can't see anything, just the flickering flame of the candle. There's a faint humming sound in the background. Like a very soft Gregorian chant. \nslap \n\"You see I have this candle!\" \nThat hurt. This is going too far. \n\"What are you doing?!\" I shouted. \nslap \n\"Silence will be observed in these hallowed halls\" burp \"Through him, in him, with him, in the unity of the dark lords, all glory is yours, now and forever\" \n\"Amen...\" I said, forcing myself to sound mildly genuine. \nslap \nYeah, I really shouldn't have to Jimmy's tree house- secret society inauguration. We're 38, for god's sakes!", "You see, I have this candle.\n\nI light it every night as soon as the sun goes down, leaving all of the lights in my old, rundown house off so as to make the flame appear as bright as humanly possible. I sit by the candle all night as the flame dances, casting wavering shadows on the fading wall paper. I watch as the shadows tell stories throughout the night, and the wax slowly dribbles down the side of the slender shaft. As the hours pass, the candle dwindles down to nothingness until it is time to extinguish the flame and for me to rest my head on my oversized queen bed. \n\nI've done this every day since my wife passed away 2 years ago. It is the only thing that keeps her memory alive, for she was the light of my life. She always brought me joy with her vivid stories and carefree dancing, even without music. She was my candle.\n\nGod, I miss her.", "\"Hey, babe, how's it goin'?\" he slurs what passes for a compliment past his twelfth beer. He eyes her up and down, a perfect ten out of ten.\n\nShe returns the statement with a frown, and returns to her friend.\n\n\"Hey, don't leave me!\" he grabs her wrist as she tries to shy away. He is too intoxicated with her youth and with alcohol to think. \"You smell good.\"\n\nShe screams, people begin to take notice. He sees the bartender motioning to a hulk of a man in the back. Only then does he realise she does not look eighteen. This realisation means little as the alcohol forces him to continue.\n\n\"That's lavender, isn't it?\" The ground moves away from him. He feels lighter - lifted up by the man. He doesn't notice. \"I knew it was lavender! You see, I have this candle...\"\n\nHe lands on his arse outside.", "\"You see, when I have a candle. It makes light that lets me see.\" he said matter-of-factly. As he holds my hand and guides me down the side walk.\n\"But how does the light let you see?\" I ask still not understanding sight. My first time to a new planet and the dominant species here, who are called \"humans\", have a much different way of observation. \n\"When its dark you can't see and then the light lets you see\" he replies obviously irritated that i don't understand. \"Ask my dad he knows everything.\"\nI have ascertained that this human is a child and he is taking me to see his parents so that i may communicate with them about our species and introduce them to their first alien race. It is the first assignment i have revived from the tribunal and a huge responsibility. I ask him to describe me with his sight. I hear nothing for a while and then he says \" your short and green with long fingers and a big head and legs like a frog!\" then he laughs. We finally reach the door to his house. And he opens it up. \"Mom i made a new friend!\" ", "\"You see, I have this candle. It doesn't go out. Just keeps on burning.\"\n\n\"Is that it?\"\n\n\"Is that it? Seems paranormal enough to me. Won't go out with water or anything. Sounds like a good job for a Paranormal Investigator, wouldn't you agree?\"\n\n\"I don't know, I was expecting something a bit more exciting. I mean, the first paranormal object I found was an empty-eyed doll that moved when you weren't looking, and it's only gone up from there.\"\n\n\"Who cares how bloody exciting it is? It's still paranormal, isn't it?\"\n\n\"It's borderline paranormal. Slightly occult. Marginally spooky. It's not really something I can investigate, you see?\"\n\n\"Look, I don't know what more you want. It's a candle that refuses to go out in defiance of common sense and natural law. What do you want, a twisted candle of horror with Queen Elizabeth's soul trapped in it?\"\n\n\"Why not? I looked into a folding chair haunted by Charles II the other week.\"\n\n\"Well, I've got to do something with this candle. Can't have it just sitting around the house. That's a fire hazard, that is.\"\n\n\"Sorry, but you won't get a full Paranormal Investigator for a little everlasting candle when there's ghosts of dead royalty to look into. Take my advice, head over to Whittaker Street and get a Slightly Occult Investigator for it.\"\n\n\"A Slightly Occult Investigator? They're scam artists, the lot of them! You may as well ask me to have the Neighborhood Watch investigate it.\"\n\n\"There's a lot of scammers, but I know some good men in that field. Actually, the owner of James' Artifacts could probably rate as a Particularly Spooky Investigator, he just prefers to work the smaller cases.\"\n\n\"Alright, I'll try there. Thanks for your time.\"\n\n\"Not a problem. Oh, and if it turns out your candle really is haunted by Queen Elizabeth, do give me a call, I'd love to see that.\"", "You see, I have this candle.\n\nIt was a gift from my students the year I stopped teaching; it's more of a sculpture than a candle, a fantasy construct of orange and red, which sort of looks like a tower from one side, and a dragon from the other. There's a wick in the middle, somewhere. I took it home, put it on a dresser in the hallway, meaning to give it my niece who likes that sort of thing. But my niece lives in a state of flux, it was never a good time to take it (understandable, the thing is a foot wide and at least two feet tall). So it's been sitting there, gathering dust, for almost a year. The hallway gets lots of sunlight; consequently the wax is in a constant state of flux, too. It's wilted a bit, and the dust has merged with the surface. It is no longer the magnificent waste of space that it once was. It's time for it to go.\n\nYou know how you don't notice something for a year, and suddenly you do, and it keeps drawing your eye? Well, maybe you don't. But that's what happened. No sooner had I started looking for a box big enough to house this thing, than I started feeling a bit wary of walking past it. I'd find myself standing in the kitchen door, looking at it, and realise that I didn't want to walk past it to go upstairs, or out of the house. Weird. I put off finding a box, which was weirder; you'd think if it was giving me the heebies, I'd be quick to get rid of it. Instead, I just sort of started circling it carefully.\n\nI stopped keeping my keys in the dish next to it; I moved the dish to the coffee table in the lounge. When I came in, I stayed near the right hand wall, and noticed after a week or two that I'd begun to rub off a patch of wallpaper in doing so. I tried to moderate my behaviour, force myself to forget about it, but instead I started dreaming about it.\n\nIn my dream it was never a dragon or a tower. Most often, it was a face - a twisted, melty wax face, howling silently, or a marbled mass that dripped off the hallway dresser and up the stairs, making it's way towards my room with excruciating slowness.\n\nThree weeks of this; telling myself I was going to get a box, and then to forget the box and just throw it in the car, or to forget donating it and just throw it in the bin. But it had become clear that I really didn't want to touch it. I hadn't touched it in a year, and I couldn't remember how it felt, but I was sure I could imagine… sticky, dusty, clammy… no, those weren't the right words. Horrifying. There.\n\nSometimes, standing in the doorway, contemplating it, I'd try to see the dragon or the castle. They'd become difficult to find. Some part of it had collapsed under it's own weight in the over-warm sun that flooded the hallway in the mornings, and now it looked like a tunnel that ended in a room in hell, all sly angles and jagged crevices. \n\nIt still had teeth.\n\nThings came to head one evening when I'd come back from a beer with Bill, a professor at the college. He could have retired too (and perhaps been gifted his own peculiar wax sculpture), but chose to remain another five years. He'd been keeping me up-to-date on all the gossip people of our age shouldn't care about, and I'd suddenly started telling him that I had something in my house that was freaking me out, and could he come and help me with it. Sure! Bill's a good guy, he didn't even ask questions, just grabbed us a cab and came on back to my place.\n\nWhen we walked through the door, he did a double take.\n\n\"What the fuck is that?\"\n\n\"It's a candle, numbnuts, but it's also a headliner in my dreams… do me a favour and take it out of here so I can go crazy over the neighbours kids being noisy or robots infiltrating the government or something. I don't like that thing.\"\n\n\"I … I don't blame you. It sort of looks like this girl I used to know. She overdosed in her apartment and I had to leave her there. She was underage.\" I guess I must have been looking at him, because he replayed what he had just told me in his head and abruptly turned towards the kitchen. \"Let's get a bag or something to throw over this thing.\" I gaped after him, and decided I hadn't heard what I thought I heard.\n\nHe was out there a long time. I suppose I should have checked or gone out to show him where I kept the refuse bags, but I was sort of mesmerised, looking at this wax grotesquerie, and seeing the girl he was talking about, lying over the edge of her bed, arms and legs and bits of clothing cut sharply in lines of orange and red. I might have stayed there, entranced, for almost twenty minutes before I blinked and looked about me. Bill had been helping me. Good old Bill.\n\nHe'd cut his wrists in the kitchen. There was blood everywhere, as though he'd spun in circles afterwards. Silently, because despite my distraction, I'm sure I'd have heard him call for help. In all my life, I've never felt like the world had been tilted quite that far, quite that suddenly before. I was about to slide off.\n\nSo yes, it was arson. I set fire to the bloody house. From outside. I tried inside, but couldn't stop looking at the candle, which looked like Bill now. So I got out of there, walked to the gas station and got some supplies. The night air cleared my head, and starting the fire was easy.\n\n\nThe hard part was thinking about the shapes the candle might have made as it melted wildly. I'm never going to have to see it again, and I've got a dead guy in my house, which I mostly burnt down, but my biggest problem still feels like the shapes of that candle are inside my head. Lighting a fire around it might have destroyed its integrity, but before it went it danced and twisted and looped, and I have a feeling I'm going to see everything it wanted to show me." ]	9
	[WP] there is a god for everything. Light, sinks, walking, whatever you can think of. How does one unexpected god suddenly become the most powerful god?	[ "I've never been one to worship the gods as some do in this world. It never occured to me that one of the divine could rise through the ranks of the pantheon or that I would be it's instrument. My mother and father would praise the gods daily. Whether it would be the God of the eating bowls and plates or the gods of the various foods. My father in particular seemed to have a particular fascination with the God of vehicles. He would curse him somedays and praise him others. I remember the days of worship with the priests of the local clergy. Father Michael always seemed to lean towards the gods of Nature. He'd take long walks on the temple grounds preaching to all who would hear. Another priest, Father Clarence would always espouse of the virtues of the God of Air and to how powerful he must be in the Pantheon, because it provided breath to all under heaven. The Elders of the order always proclaimed that the Sun God was at the head of the Pantheon. My mother in particular praised the Goddess of the Earth because she provided substnace for all life. I had never heard the gods speak to me nor felt their divine influence even at the heights of my participation in the order. I had long since abandoned the Faith in pursuit of more scholarly endeavors.\n\nI had only begun my work at the university when I was approached by Professor Shrute. He took me under his wing and got me a nice job working for the university library. It was here that I first heard the divines call. I spent long hours within the annals of the hall between the various collected volumes and tomes. I spent the time organizing and indexing the books. I loathed my time there, for I thought that my talents were better suited to field work with the professor. I approached the prosfessor one day and inquired about why he was wasting my time in the library.\n\nI caught him outside his office one day after sometime spent trying to arrange a meeting. \n\"Professor!\", I called out to him as he left his office. He turned to meet me as I neared him, quickening my pace to match his. \"Ah, Miguel. What brings you in today?\" We continued down the hall towards the university administration. \"Professor, I've been trying arrange a meeting with you for several weeks now but have been quite unsuccessful. Are you avoiding me? Because it would seem that you are. I've been inquiring about switching to field work. Although your secretary assures me that you are getting my messages, I feel that I've been shuffled away into some back room and ignored.\" The professor glanced at me while arching his eyebrow, he sighed and continued walking down the hall. \"Professor\", I prodded. \"I'm waiting for something.\" he paused and continued, \"Is the stipend you are getting from the library not enough?\" \"It is adequate but i feel that my talents are being wasted in such trivial matters\", I responded feelingquite flustered at the professors vague answer. We continued past the administrative offices and started down the stairs. \"Are you familiar with the god s, Miguel?\" \"Quite Familiar sir.\" \"Have you ever heard the call of the gods?\" \"Never, it's an outdated ideology much more suited for the temple than for the scholars such as yourself.\", I knew my impatience and frustration was showing but I was determined to get out of that dreadful place. \"In that case we'll increase your stipend but you'll have to spend more time in the library.\" \"Professor . . .\" I prostested but he cut me short. \"Field work requires enormous amounts of patience and study beforehand or else we risk destroying that which we seek to uncover. Your work for the University is vital and instructional. You are being taught how to catalog, classify, and identify information. So until I return from my latest dig you will need to further your education in the library.\"\n\nAfter that the professor left for Alexandria, and he requested that i be quartered closer to the library. I knew the professor had been grooming me for a position within the university but until our conversation that day I hadn't suspected that it would be his position. I spent the next six months in the library performing my official duties but also perusing the tomes. I learned everything from astronomy to agriculture. Most days I found myself alone in the library after hours. When readin the books I would often speak aloud and flail my limbs every which way whilst acting out the various stories. Once I even found myself running my hands along the books and shelves speaking to the night air as if cursing my lot and praising the books amongst the book cases for delivering me from such a tedious task. One night I even found myself groping around in the dark because I failed to refill my lantern. I often found myself checking my back to see if some unknown entity had hidden itself amongst the books. I began to hear whispers and voices but there were very faint as if someone were behind the bookcases spying me and reporting my doings to the Hall. At first when such thoughts ran wild I would retreat to my room where the sounds would abate and I would slowly drift off to sleep. As time wore on I found that the only was when I was reading the books and during my daily walks about the library. One night as I read about the Roman pantheon I began to feel faint. I brushed it off and continued reading but soon it became impossible as I had now developed a splitting headache. I rose from the floor and picked up my lantern. I struggled to orient myself and it seemed that around every corner there was another bookcase. I quickened my pace but soon I was unable to even walk. I fell to my knees and dropped the lantern. My body convulsed sharply and I lost conciousness. I awoke sometime later wihtin the confines of the University meidcal hall. The professor sat beside me. He told me that he had come at once when he heard what had happened to me. I had been found in the library within the locked section that onkly professors had access. No one knew how I had gotten in but th university librarian had been daily rounds when she found me. The doctors had no idea how I had been come to be in such a state. Later that week I was released as I had no further attacks. From that day forward the professor remained at my side. He often had such strange inquiries such as If I felt like I was being watched or hearing voices. I denied that I felt any such compulsion, not wanting to be sent off to the asylum. I remained in seclusion within my room. I wanted to escape the ever watchful eye of the Professor. I often had other students deliver my assignments. I even paid one such student to perform my library duties and deliver me books on a nightly basis. I instructed her to leave the library at closing time and to never stay late. Often I would dream of traveling to Alexandria with the Professor. I dreamt of the questions and instructions he would give me during the excavation. I soon found that I had a fascination with Alexandria so I ordered my thrall to deliver me tomes on the subject. My dreams continued nightly and always about Alexandria. I tried to distract myself by reading other works but I would always return to my study of Alexandria. When I studied I studied by candle light for hours long in to the night and often by candlelight. The light would flicker at the edges of the door. It kept the voices and eyes at bay. With the dawn it seemed that these strange compulsions would abate but I grew adverse to the sunlight. Rumors began to circulate about my latenight activities but I ignored them and even some professors began to grow unsure that I wasn't up to anything nefarious. Sonn I bagan traveling out at night to the library. On my first night back I stood before the doors, afraid to open the doors fearing that I might let out the presence that dwelt inside. More practically I was afraid that the sound of the massive oak doors opening might alert the night guard that something was amiss. I extinguished my lantern and prepared to light my candle. My eyes darted to the bottom of the door as I saw a light sweep across the opening. Someone was inside, waiting for me. Was it the professor? The night guard? The librarian? My pulse quickened and my breath grew shallow as my mind raced to figure out who might be lying in wait behind the door. I placed my ear against the door and listened for quite sometime before crouching and trying to peer beneath the door. My eyes adjusted to the darkness. My eyes surveyed the room beyond the door but still my vision seemed to be missing something. The drapes at the far end of the library lobby stirred for a moment and the moon light shown in. My heart stopped as soon as i saw a figure standing in the midst of the lobby clutching a book. I made out the hemline of a dress and the short tied back hair unique to my library thrall. I rose to my knees and called out into the lobby. \"Allison, is that you?\", I waited a few moments for an answer. \"Yes, it's me. Who's there?\" was the reply. \"It's me Miguel\", I fumbled around trying to find my key but realised that I had forgotten it back in my room. I sighed and again called out to Allison, \"Can you let me in? I promise that you won't get in trouble\". \"Yes sir, just give me a moment\", I heard her fumble around trying to light her lantern. I slumped my back against the door as I had yet to regain my composure. It was then that I noticed that I had been sweating and I could feel the night chill more acutely. I heard the gas lamp come to life and in the stillness of the hall it might as well have been a roar. Cautiously I looked down the hallways from whence I came to check if we had been heard. Nothing seemed to stir in darkness. I looked down the opposite way and again nothing seemed to stir. A growing unease rose in my chest but I could not figure out what it was. Again I peered down the hallway. With a loud click the library doors opened.\n\nEdit: To be continued.", "There is a god, for without we would never survive, nor it without us. This god does not command the sun, or control the sea. No. It's something far subtler, and all the more powerful. \n\nIts name is Imahg, which means to imagine. Hence, the term imagination. It is the source of all thoughts in every man, from birth til death. \n\nEvery idea must touch a mind to survive, and Imahg lives through these ideas. We are all but one of trillions of conduits and expressions of Imahg. \n\nWhat makes Imahg dangerous more than any god man has known, is not in it taking away life. It's its ability to rob it of all worth.\n\nA man could eat, drink, and sleep. But without consciousness, with a mind knowing only darkness, what value would such a life hold, then? \n\nAll we cherished would instantly vanish. Concepts of friendship and love would forever escape us.\n\nEvery god has its role for mankind, and Imahg is greatly feared. Not just by man, but its fellow gods as well. For if gods draw their power from the worship of mankind, what would happen if Imahg was compelled to divert their attention to itself? \n\nWorst yet, what would happen if Imahg ceased existence? This is why the gods both fear and loathe it. For without thought, there can be no worship. And without worship, what becomes of the gods, and all the elements they control?", " “Thank you for that Arm Chair; you articulated your point rather well.” Sun stood up from his seat behind the desk and took centre stage. “Now, as you all know, today’s meeting is about more than the crisis regarding hippies who don’t like leather; no matter how well the argument is phrased. Today is about the leadership of everything, the God to rule all Gods if you will. I do trust that most of you got your votes in; the expected turnout has been 67% which is almost unheard of for us and makes quite good reading really. Now the polls have suggested that Earth, wind and fire are all neck and neck with water taking a slight advantage however, as many of you know, this is the first election in over a hundred decades that is open to the public so it could pan out numerous ways...” \n\n\n Skirting Board’s eyes started to grow heavy as Sun continued to drone on. He couldn’t concentrate on a single word that had come from his mouth and he really just wanted to be in bed. His brain screamed at him to awake but it didn’t matter, he recognised that he was drifting off yet he could do nothing about it. The room was stuffy at the best of times but with this being election night it had moved into a realm that he could only describe as sweaty. Of course, being a minor God, he had been sat with the majority of lesser known Gods. He wouldn’t have minded this crowed situation if he hadn’t been sat between the God of Japatties and the God of Salami, the food Gods where always the biggest. As his day caught up with him Skirting Board’s head started to bob rhythmically. Down, down, down and up. Down, down, down and up. \n\n\n “Yes yes yes, I understand the question,” Boomed a voice, it reminded Skirting Board of the earthling that was known as Brain Blessed with his deep tones and needlessly loud volume. He had no idea how long he had slept but the loud coughing, or the smell of Salami, had awoken him. He needed to do something if he hoped to stay awake through to the results so he got up and headed to the bathroom. After a long and strenuous journey just to get out of his isle he was met by the God Ushering who proceeded to walk him to the back of the auditorium. From the back the hall he again realised how massive the room was, God of Public Places had done a grand job indeed when it came to designing this place. It reminded Skirting Board of an opera house. Like most places, the rows ascended from front to back and all the seats where covered in deep maroon sort of velvet. From the middle hung a grand Chandelier that the God of Light Fittings had made and again it was a big spectacle.\nSkirting Board was greeted by Door Way as he passed through the back of the hall. “Bit hot in there?”\n\n“Yeah,” replied Skirting Board, “what you doing out here?”\n\n“Oh I just arrived a bit late and didn’t want to intrude, plus getting past some of these minor Gods for a seat can be a disaster.”\n\n“Tell me about it.” Skirting Board continued on past Doorway and into the bathroom. \n\n\n He cupped a handful of water and splashed it over his face; he heard a large cheer from inside the auditorium as he threw yet more water in his face. Days like today used to be exciting and fun, they where the reason he had originally got involved with God politics, but for the last few years he had been stuck with being in charge of the department for Skirting Boards. Ironically, much like skirting boards, he seemed to be needed but never properly acknowledged. To be fair he was in a better position as God of Skirting Boards then when he had been God of Shovels, the day he was allowed to legally change his name was one of massive relief. He did wonder who would be recognised as leader, he personally had voted for Earth.\n \n\nFor as long as he could remember the big four had always been the Gods of the elements. Leadership votes always came down to those four in one way or another and he doubted that this much touted public vote would actually make an impact, just because Gods where no longer the only voters didn’t mean the outcome would be different. He dreamed that maybe one day he might well get promoted. He did chuckle to himself as he remembered the lifetime achievement award that had been given to Coffee last week for “powering the nation for years gone and years to come.” Why didn’t skirting board ever get this kind of recognition?\nThe sound from the auditorium had now turned to what seemed like confusion as the deeply muffled sound made its way into the bathroom. Then, seemingly from nowhere, the bathroom door slammed open. It was Doorway. \n\n“You’ve done it mate.”\n\n“Done what?”\n\n“You’ve finally been recognised for all the work you do, lurking in the shadows hidden away yet keeping this world safe is what he said! You are the silent protector keeping everything respectable while tying up loose ends!”\n\n“Skirting Board took a step back, “seriously?”\n\n“Yes mate you, God of Skirting Board, are now God of the Gods!”\n\n“Finally,” Skirting Board let out a sigh as he confidently strode into the auditorium. Skirting Board had got the recognition it and he deserved.\n", "He hailed him as a hero. The god before him had a long flowing black beard, that constantly moved like the waves of a sea. His face had a stony texture, and cracks in his face revealed a deep blue aura contained within his physical form. He had arms the size of treetrunks, and yet his hands had long, clever and delicate fingers. His face betrayed no emotion, but his eyes, full of pride, he could not hide. \n\n\"Well done\", he said in a very faraway voice, as if he was talking underwater.\n\n\" We did what we had to, nothing more, nothing less.\"\n\n\"No, you are the very reason I exist.\"\n\nHe bows his head and walks around.\n\n\" A god's power is gained through how much respect and influence he or she gathers\"\n\nHe stood out on the cliff, and watched the sun rise over a new day. \n\n\"Brave men such as you have proven that your profession, no matter how dirty, is NECESSARY if man is to survive in cleanliness.\"\n\n\" It's definiton has been akin to perversion or even as a simple game, with no challenge.\"\n\n\"A worthless job. A worthless god.\"\n\nHe turned around and put his hand on my shoulder.\n\n\" But you bought it back to it's former glory, and now, I am once again powerful.\"\n\nHis eyes glowed a startling blue.\n\n\" I hereby bless you with infinite power, and may you never stray from the call.\"\n\nThe god smiled at me, and he dissappeared.\n\nI thought fixing the problematic toilet was a great idea to allow the World Peace Conference attendees their rightful ability to remove the contents of their bowels but I never thought I would attract the attention of a god!\n\nThe conference had been uncomfortable for the whole evening, and as it turns out, someone had poisoned the food, and then clogged the toilets. I was there at the right time and right place. My job was suddenly worth something. Turns out, a strain of a new virus was discovered to be active once entering the digestive tract, and if I had not fixed it, the whole place would've been infected in minutes. I was hastily given a peace prize and hailed as a hero.\n\n\"I thank the God of Plumbing for giving me this power, and I shall use it for the greater good!\"\n", "Two minutes ago, God of Sneezing ran out from his room and screamed. \"I lost all my sneezing powers!\"\n\nTen seconds later, God of Farting did the same thing. \"I couldn't fart anymore!\"\n\nA minute ago, almost all Gods came out from their own private rooms, all complained they had lost their ability. Their powers.\n\nExcept one.\n\nThe Gods, finally realized that there is a door that hasn't been opened yet, marched together towards the room and banging the door as loud as they can.\n\n\"STEALING GOD! WE ORDER YOU TO COME OUT THIS VERY SECOND!\"\n\nA few seconds passed before the door finally opened, almost everyone there could hear the creaked sound it makes. A living being stepped out from the inside, grinning widely. He was beaming.\n\n\"Ah, I'm sorry... Looks like I've overused my stealing power! I just want to know how far I can go with this power... I hope you don't mad?\"", "I was always kinda' a D-student, ya know? Never thought much for learnin, but my mam ahh man she pushed me to graduation. I guess I'm glad she did.\n\nNow as a D student I got all the shittiest godhoods. Plunger god. Trench digger god. Dumpster banana god. I guess I should have seen it coming, but when I saw \"Brown Starfish\" god I figured what the fuck, right? Hang out underwater with some fish things... fogettaboutit I can do that!\n\nTurns out a brown starfish is some uptight asshole's way of saying... well... uptight asshole. The bitch of it all is that creatures have to worship you for you to get any power, so that skinny prick I had been mean to all year became god of the ATM or some shit and got pretty powerful. Now I'd gone from D-student to D-lister.\n\nThen my mom sat me down, god of god mom's bless her, and she looked me straight in da eye an' ya know what she said? \"It's a shitty artist what blames his tools.\" It really set hard wit me. The next morning I visited some asshole's asshole, and a thought occured to me. I bet I could make this motherfucker squirm, and through pressure get some prayers so I shut down his \"brown starfish.\" By the end of the day I was feeling stronger, and this poor bastard was grunting and red faced for hours. Not bad for a d-list eh?\n\nAs I grew in power I began to shut down more and more starfish. First a town, then a city. The eastern seaboard of the USA, and eventually the whole world. By this point I was rich baby! I had more power and prestige than anyone on the block! Looking back at that nerd all I can say is people don't give a shit about an ATM when they can't give a shit eh!? Take THAT world!\n\nMoral of the story - It doesn't matter what job you have or how much work you do because there is usually an asshole in charge.\n\nInspired by a joke here on Reddit. ", "The Gods are fickle beings. Constantly falling in and out of existence just like the things they represent. Some Gods are eternal, like the God of Light, or the God of Electrons and so on and so forth. Some Gods come and go just like fads. Examples include the God of Cross fit, and the Goddess of Pinterest.\n\nAll of these Gods and Goddesses range in power however. Usually ending up with Gods of Fads becoming servants to the Eternal Gods and serving them until they cease to exist. It has always been this way. No god born after the Eternals had ever risen above them in terms of power. It's not so that all Gods born after the Eternals are weak, in fact some Gods, like those of emotions, are extremely powerful, however most of them lack the will to do anything with their power.\n\nWill is a strange thing isn't it. It allows us to create, to destroy, to do whatever we please. I may seem odd to you, but not all Gods have a will to speak of. They merely exist like the objects or ideas they represent. This is what makes me unique however, for I am the God of Will. I contain the will of all living things in the universe. The stronger their will, the more powerful I become. My will allows me challenge the Eternals, to make them uncomfortable on their complacent thrones.\n\nI am the will of all things that are and ever will be. I am the Will of the universe. I will become stronger than the Eternals and end their tyrannous rule. Through the will of all things I shall succeed.", " \"How? How is this happening?\" The God of Frying Pans cried out amongst the chaos in the Household Palace. \n\n \"Beats me!\" The God of Pillows shouted back, dodging the falling debris.\n\n \"I think I have an idea what's happening,\" The God of Windows glanced upwards and the voice of The God of Toilet Bowls boomed from the oncoming brown cloud.\n\n \"I HAVE BEEN TAKING EVERYONE'S SHIT FOR AGES. IT'S NOW TIME FOR EVERYONE TO FEEL MY WRATH.\" ", "\"Really? I don't think this will solve our problems.\" \n\nYles watched the timeless faces around her. She stood before the High Council in their Hallowed Hall. The six most powerful gods in existence peered down at her from thrones of white marble, oak, and gold. A seventh throne, taller and grander than all others, stood empty. \n\nTwitor, the god of hashtags, spoke up. \n\n\"The rules are clear, Yles. Our power comes from our followers. The High Council must always be comprised of the strongest of our kin, and you are the strongest of us all. #ItIsYourDestiny\" \n\nYles sighed. \"I know, but I really don't think this is the way to go. What about Lisserax? He's a-\" \n\nA clap of thunder rang through the Hall. Yles turned to face the sound. It was Lokatmi, the goddess of selfies. \n\n\"We are dying, Yles!\", she roared through pursed lips. \"Man's faith in us grows weaker every day! You are the only one of us who still possesses any real power. You are the only one who can save us.\" \n\nThe other members of the High Council murmured their agreement. \n\n\"#TheChosenOne\", Twitor said. \n\nThe Hall fell into silence. \n\n\"Okay, fine\", Yles said, throwing up her arms. \"If you say so.\" \n\nShe made her way up the marble steps to take her throne. As she ascended, the other gods rose from their seats and started chanting something in an ancient tongue. Yles felt the throne hum and buzz with power. The hairs on her arm stood up as she stretched out her hand. She sat down. Immediately, the chanting stopped. Lokatmi trumpeted a fanfare. \n\n\"HAIL!\", the others cried. \"HAIL YLES, THE GODDESS OF ATHEISM!\" \n\nYles buried her face in her hands. \"This is fucking stupid\", she muttered. ", "“I said can someone grab me a smoothie?” \n\nYawning widely and scratching her arm half-heartedly Aergia looked around once more; disappointed that she didn’t have her smoothie yet. What was taking so long?\n\n“You know, banana or raspberry? I really don’t mind guys”\n\nThe other Gods looked up at her lounging form draped across the seat of power with scowls etched upon their faces. It had been many years since the Goddess of Laziness had come to be known as the most influential and powerful deity throughout all the religions and she had the Humans themselves to thank for that. They worked tirelessly to develop technologies to do their work for them: Robots and automation mass produced and readily available to all. Horme had begun to think that the inkling of power that their surge in work over a few decades had given her would allow her to challenge for the throne, she was the Goddess of Effort after all and the Humans had proven their effort tenfold. It was all for nought once artificial intelligence had grown to what it is today. Now? Mankind simply does nothing. Husks of their former intrepid and industrious selves. Slaves to their vices, their pleasures and their creations.\n\n“Okay, okay. Please?”\n\nAergia pleaded, a bored tone ringing from her voice. She finally looked down to see the discontent stewing beneath her in the grand hall. The Gods staring up at her with looks of jealousy and distaste. Rolling her eyes and letting her head fall back in defeat she sighed loudly.\n\n“Man you guys are all so lazy”\n" ]	10
So you can die, but they will just respawn. Everybody thinks you are merely another player of the game but for you this is real life.	[WP] You are a soldier fighting in the next World War. One day you suddenly realize that every other fighter is a virtual character in a video game, all controlled by people.	[ "WW3, we never thought we'd experience something like this in our lifetime. Just over one ballistic missile strike that hit North Korea, and the whole world went tits up! \n\nI signed up to fight the oncoming invasion, as it was inevitable. The day of battle finally came, my very rushed 3 days of basic training was still stuck in my head. We sat in our foxholes on the beach, my friend Alex beside me, his gun aimed towards the tide of hovercrafts heading our way.\n\n\"You okay dude?\" \n\n\"Yeah, I'm nervous though, you?\"\n\n\"Fucking shitting it here\" \n\n\"No time for it, they're coming!\" \n\nbefore I knew it the hovercrafts were already on the beach, and troops were pouring forth. The silent beach turned into a burning massacre. However. What I wasn't expecting was to see the North Koreans Jumping and rapidly spinning around firing randomly into the air, some carried high powered rifles, and heavily designed to the point where it almost was fashionable.\n\nIn the midst of the combat and my confusion, the cries of the dying filled the air as well as the explosions\n\n\"OH WHAT THE FUCK?! FUCKING LAG!\"\n\n\"FUCKING NOOBS, GO SUCK A DICK YOU FAGS\"\n\n\"I USED FUCKING FLASH GRENADES\"\n\nI would've listed the others at the time if I hadn't have been mowing them down. These Koreans obviously trained vigorously on COD.\n\nToo bad I played Unreal Tournament.", "\"Did he just say what I think he just said?\" I said out loud, over the gunfire and noise. The enemy were charging our front. We were holding them off, for now, but they were closing in.\n\nOscar fired more shots with an old beat-up AK-47, \"What do you think he said?\" he shouted back.\n\nI rose up and fired three bullets, all direct hits. The soldiers face screwed up, not with pain but with annoyance. \"No way! You didn't even hit me you noob!\"\n\nI slunk back down behind cover, confused. \"Okay, now I definitely know what I heard.\"\n\nOscar sighs next to me. \"What?\" he asks. \n\n\"That soldier just shouted at me 'You didn't even hit me noob!',\" I said flatly.\n\n\"That's stupid,\" Oscar snorted back.\n\n\"I know, I know.\" I rose again, using four bullets, I shot a man in the soldier in the shoulder, then heart, stomach and shoulder again. Again, the man's face contorted with anger. \"Yeah? Well I did your mom last night!\"\n\nNow I was really confused. \"Hey Os, mate.\" I yelled.\n\n\"Yeah?\" He returned.\n\n\"What nationality are these guys?\"\n\n\"Aren't they Lavitan?\"\n\n\"Do Lavitan's speak English?\"\n\n\"Not to my knowledge, no.\"\n\n\"Do they speak English with an American accent?\"\n\n\"Uhh, no?\"\n\n\"Well, I'll be damned.\"\n\n\"James, I think you're going crazy.\"\n\n\"No, I'm not. Look with me.\"\n\nOscar sighed and we both rose slowly. No bullets, so far. \"My god, what the holy fuck.\" Oscar said as we stared at the enemy. How we had missed it, I'll never know. Maybe it's because our focus was on the soldier running at us, or the noise of it all. The enemy were magically appearing out thin air! More than that, they were disorganised. Half of them ran around, looking at the dusty skies, the other half were sprinting straight into battle, shooting wildly. \n\n\"They're like fucking toddlers\" Oscar said.\n\nI swallowed, \"Worse, mate. So much worse.\" I lowered my voice to a whisper, \"They're COD players.\"" ]	2
What are its symptoms? How is it spread? How does it affect people? Feel free to write it as a narrative, academic paper, or a style of your choice. Inspired by The Thackery T. Lambshead Pocket Guide to Eccentric & Discredited Diseases	[WP] Write about a strange and fictitious disease that is not spread through the typical avenues.	[ "Brains are, for all intents and purposes, biological computers. They take inputs, process them, and create reasonable outputs in response. Nice and simple (well, no, but you get the gist). \n\nVarious individuals, myself included, tried to figure out ways to 'reprogram' brains for easier control. I, personally, worked on using QR codes as subliminal messages--and was modestly successful, if I do say so myself--but nowhere near to the extent of Dr. Caroline Clark and Dr. Michael Zhao.\n\nClark and Zhao were specialists of a different nature than mine. Clark was a neurological researcher, and Zhao studied human hearing. Between the two of them, they were able to perform amazing feats of control: Crowds could be controlled, riots could be stopped, criminals could become 'allergic' to antisocial behavior, all with the use of a machine that produced glorified dial tones.\n\nOne of the most unique feats was the development of a self-perpetuation auditory command. An individual who had received the command would appear perfectly normal to themselves and to others, but would periodically make the commands with their own voice, which they (and anyone affected) would forget.\n\nWhat was unfortunate was the fact that Clark and Zhao were themselves infected by this noise, and rapidly spread it to those around them. I was lucky enough to be involved in an experiment involving hypnotic effects while under extreme sensory deprivation, so I managed to avoid infection.\n\nThis infection wasn't the problem in and of itself; rather, it was the fact that Clark and Zhao hadn't realized a side-affect of this procedure: any and all audio programming was repeated.\n\nBy about four weeks later, the entire susceptible population (about 85%, give or take 10%) was infected.\n\nThen DARPA took over the project. They decided to test a kill order.\n\nThe program was, in my opinion, revolutionary. An infected individual would experience a driving need to kill anyone and everyone around them for five hours, and then would drop dead. When they went to test it, apparently it worked so well that DARPA had to pull out one of the criminals they were using as bait.\n\nHe was infected.\n\nWithin 35 hours, 90% of North America had died.\n\nI'm currently hiding in an old nuclear silo in the middle of Kansas with some guys who survived DARPA at using US spy satellites to keep tabs on the situation. \n\nThe situation is the same or worse throughout most of the world. We lost contact with our counterparts in Europe a few days ago.\n\nThankfully, we've detected no activity within 50 miles of the silo. I'm going to go check on the nearby towns, see what I can scavenge. I've managed to Jerry-rig a set of noise-canceling headphones, so I won't be infected if something goes wrong.\n\nI'm putting this online so others may know what happened, others who aren't on our Network.\n\nWish me luck. \n\nDr. Matthew Rearden, MD/Ph.D.", "Social Mydriasis II \n\nIn March 2015, the World Health Organization was notified of an outbreak of a communicable disease characterized by extreme ocular pain, slight facial dermatological reactions, cardiac arrhythmia, and a low fatality rate in America. Virologic investigation identified social mydriasis II (SMII) as the causative agent. Full-length genome sequencing and phylogenetic analysis showed that SMII from America forms is unique from any known mydriasis strains from the Europe or Latin America. Epidemiologic investigation linked the laboratory-confirmed cases with the presumed first case of the outbreak in December 2014. This study demonstrates the emergence of a new mydriasis strain in America.\n\n\nSocial mydriasis transmission is unorthodox, spread by prolonged direct eye contact with an infected carrier of the agent. The most common sign of SMII is extreme dilation of the pupils for extended periods of time, often hours or even days, resulting in painful sensitivity to light. In some patients, dilation of pupils is accompanied by dilation of facial vascular system resulting in discoloration of cheeks. Many patients had nonspecific symptoms that may include: cardiac arrhythmia, both primary and focal hyperhidrosis, fatigue and less often fever. \n\n\nOutbreaks caused by strains of the genera mydriasis represent a minor, but annoying, public health issue. Mydriasis virus disease is associated with a case fatality rate of less than 0.00000001%. Specific conditions in communities in America facilitate the spread of the disease from human to human. These conditions include, direct human contact and poor cellular network reception. This is the first mydriasis species to emerge in America, following minor outbreaks in Spain, Japan and Korea. Smaller epidemics have occurred in Beijing, England, Sweden, and Panama. Pacquiao mydriasis circulates in the Philippines.\n \n\nCurrent treatment guidelines for SMII include administration of sunglasses for up to 48 hours. This study aims to test the augmentation of the sunglasses treatment with the constant pressure resulting from the application of a smart phone into the non-dominant hand. The clinical presentation of sunglass and smart phone application in nonhuman primates and rabbits is inconclusive relative to that in humans. Studies conducted in animals that received \nsunglasses and smart phones provided much entertainment, but little scientific value and had no basis for the approval of these agents for use in humans. We conducted randomized, placebo-controlled studies in two human models of \nsunglasses and smart phones to assess the efficacy when administered as a prophylactic agent prior to the onset of systemic disease. We then assessed the safety in human subjects of a dose of sunglasses and smart phones that provided a survival benefit in the controlled models.\n\n\nThe survival benefit with sunglasses and smart phones was robust and was observed across all prespecified subgroups in humans, but unobserved in rabbits and monkeys. In all subgroups of animals confirmed to have SMII at or before the time of treatment initiation, there was no significant survival benefit associated the application of sunglasses and smart phones as compared with placebo. The kinetic analysis of protective effect of sunglasses and smart phones in humans showed higher levels of apathy, lower amounts of direct eye contact between infected subjects and others, and resulted in a statistically significant drop in SMII infection among humans. \n\n\nIn order to prevent further spread of SMII, this study recommends a thorough public awareness campaign and the wider distribution of sunglasses and smart phones among the most at-risk populations. \n\n\nStatistical Results: \nIn humans doses of sunglasses and smart phones of 1 unit per person or higher provided a significant benefit with respect to the primary end point and no benefit compared to the 14-day survival rate (100%, as compared with 100% with placebo; P<0.001). Survival was not significantly longer in all sunglasses and smart phone groups, and a no significant dose–response trend for survival at day 14 (P<0.001) was observed. Given the hilarious response observed in rabbits, higher sunglasses and smart phones doses — 10, 20, and 40 units per animal — were assessed in cynomolgus monkeys. The 28-day survival rate was the same in all sunglasses and smart phones groups than in the placebo group (70 to 100% in the groups that received 20 and 40 units, respectively, vs. 1000% in the placebo group; P<0.001). \n\nA life-table analysis showed that the risk of reinfection of SMII was reduced among participants receiving sunglasses and smart phone (P<0.001). The median time to the first reinfection of SMII was 26 days (95% confidence interval [CI], 23 to 31) in participants receiving sunglasses and smart phone, as compared with 10 days (95% CI, 8.1 to 11.9) in participants receiving placebo (P<0.001). The hazard ratio of having an reinfection of SMII per patient-year in the sunglasses and smart phone group as compared with the placebo group was 0.73 (95% CI, 0.63 to 0.84; P<0.001). These differences remained significant after adjustment with the use of Cox regression for differences in sex, FEV1, age, smoking status, and study center. \n\n", "\tThe Word Plague\n\nIt started when they received an ancient radio signal from the Alpha Centauri system. Our computers took a while, but eventually generated an audio line from the static. It was then all hell broke loose. \n\n\nSymptoms started out with general aphasia, developing into schizophrenia and dementia. Victims would go through some unknown physical change where their larynx and mouths would begin to deform into grotesque shapes to mimic the sounds. An auditory plague descended upon humanity. Nukes were set off to destroy all communication relays and stop the spread of the sound through any media venues. There was no known cure, and the only vaccine was to inflict deafness. \n\n\nHumanity has crumbled, all from the uttering of lost words from distant eons. The creatures that roam this planet now have only two goals. Propagate and destroy anything that they cannot infect. The resistance destroyed the last radio station, and the strangest thing began to happen. The infected gathered in canyons, in quarries and linked arms. They faced the skies and cried out. The only living witnesses observed masses of them become motionless except for their mouths. The ground rumbled and if they could hear, they'd hear roaring of their cries in harmonic unison as they began to echo their mimetic infection for as long as their bodies would hold. Anything listening to this little blue dot might notice the silence of electronic activity, but the air itself resonated a dark and putrid melody. \n" ]	3
	[WP] You live in a world where sugar of any kind is completely illegal and use and consumption is punished harshly. Explain who the notorious "Ice-Cream Man" is.	[ "His name was whispered amongst people up and down the land. A man clad in white, playing jingles of the old world to corrupt up-standing citizens with the wicked ways of sugar. \n\nSome say he'd turn up in a van as white as the poison he peddled, plastered with images of monsters and creatures from the darkest of nightmares. Others say that you'd only hear him coming, before he'd snatch you up and rot your teeth, leaving only a frosty husk of a person.\n\nHe was apparently head of a sugar running operation called the Glucose Gang, running illicit operations all across the world, trafficking sugar and sweets under the noses of the authorities. Men and women armed with deadly weapons and even deadlier treats, hunted by the governments of the world for peddling sugar. \n\nThey had caught Mrs Buttersworth, the head of the syrup racket and the Muffin Man was apparently entrenched in his compound in the north of Afghanistan but no-one could catch the Ice Cream Man. \n\nMr Whippy was as smooth as the 99s he sold. Every lead turned up cold, all pursuers gunned down in hail of bullets and Cadbury Flakes. His legendary van had been seen all across the world, from Mexico to Malaysia, with his musical calling card signalling to all that some nasty stuff was about to go down. They had almost caught him back in the UK. They had spotted his fellow gang members down at the old abandoned Cadbury's refrigeration plant, sneaking some Flakes out for his confections. Over 100 Sugar Prohibition officers died that day, as the dreaded Mr Whippy and his cavity-causing cartel escaped the authorities.\n\nSome people think he does it for pleasure, for the thrill of the chase. Others say he has been dead all along, and that the authorities are chasing a ghost. I think, he just wants one more Cornetto and he'll do anything to get it.", "The bill banning all sugar consumption had at last passed. Twenty years later teeth were white as shit. Bird shit of course, since that stuff's white.\n\nThere was however one vigilante who seemed to be in denial that the old ways were dead. This lone rebel continued to hone his craft as if the dark years were still upon us, and worse yet, seemed to long their return. Some fancied him a hero.\n\nHe was as slick as a specter. He would roll into unsuspecting villages in his 93' Chevy pickup, blaring a melody designed to hypnotize the youth and lure them into his vile domain. Once the naïve children were in range, he would dump oasis's of delicious sugary treats at their feet before speeding off into the horizon before local authorities could arrive at the scene.\n\nHe left a trail of diabetes and tooth decay in his wake. As dangerous as he was unpredictable, the world would have to sleep with one eye open until this bandit was brought to justice.", "A jingle sounded up the nearly empty street, startling a small child playing with a ball on a nearby doorstep. The little boy was quickly pulled inside my an anxious mother, her eyes darting around frantically before she closed the door.\n\nThe now abandoned ball rolled down the pristine white steps of the regulation-specific sky blue house, stopping in the middle of the road.\n\nA breeze rustled through the street.\n\nSomething shifted in the nearly unnoticeable shadows of the cookie-cutter houses, so neatly lined up in their government-ordained rows, and dark figures began to creep out from behind the buildings. As the light from the setting sun framed by the end of the street dappled their faces, casting sharp shadows over cheekbones and noses, the little boy who had lost his ball lifted the shade covering his window ever so slightly, enough to peep through the gap with one ice-blue eye. \n\nSome of them were typical townsfolk; the kid watching through the window recognized Morty the Baker, buying contraband to fill his product with, and the scrawny blonde teenager named Slick Sammy not too far off was said to deal treats to the local high schools. Others were not so innocent; a roly-poly man in a suit and tie looked to be a businessman with enough money to spare for an addiction, and there was a man dressed all in black. The little boy thought he looked like a supervillain.\n\nThe tinkling, cheerful music seemed out of place amid the twitchy wave of people shuffling their feet and eyeing the horizon, watching, waiting...\n\nA dark blotch appeared on the horizon at the end of the street, and the strains of old children songs weaving through the air increased in volume.\n\nThe child in the window craned his neck to see more, noticing how the gaggle of people waiting in the street seemed to get more restless, some twisting their hands and shuffling their feet, looking eagerly at the growing object coming down the road.\n\nA white truck came into view, the horn atop it spewing saccharine notes and unsung promises.\n\nThere was a rush of motion and all the people that had been standing in the street, anticipating the arrival of this one truck, rushed towards it, waving money and yammering all at once. The kid discreetly watching this show of unlawful dealing flinched back from the sudden cacophony of garbled sounds and voices, muted through the thick glass.\n\nHe stared as the screen on the side of the truck was revealed and a man was brought into view, grinning broadly. The patrons waiting by the side of the vehicle began to thrust money at the strange truck driver and, one by one, he exchanged their green notes for succulent treats and frozen confectioneries.\n\nThe child watched, wondering what it must be like to touch one with the tip of a tongue. To feel the icy touch and the (supposed) creamy texture, the whisper of sweetness and satisfying crunch of a waffle cone.\n\nAs the man finished all his customers, he waved at the last of them and began to shut the flap on the side of the truck.\n\nHis blue eyes caught the little boy's, and the dealer's widened in what could have been surprise, or shock, or even realization.\n\nThe truck window slammed shut.\n\nMusic blared through the otherwise silent air, echoing down the now abandoned street.\n\nGravel and the smell of heated rubber filled the air and the truck was gone, the only signs it had ever existed being the sound of slowly fading children's songs and swirls of displaced rocks from the tires of the truck.\n\n~~~~~~\n\n\"Honey, I'm home!\" The patriarch of the household walked in the front door, depositing a brown leather briefcase on his desk and removing similarly colored shoes. \"Hey, Charlie.\" The little boy was swept up in a hug. \"What did you do today?\"\n\nFor some reason there was a knowing gleam in the man's blue eyes and a chip of waffle cone in the kid's pocket when they separated.\n\nNOTE: Ah, shit, I wrote too much again." ]	3
	[WP] A daily habit of drinking tea saves a neighbour's life.	[ "This was, perhaps, the only constant in his life. He routinely came down to the porch, settling down on his chair, looking out into the streets. This routine helped calm his nerves, especially from things that happened in House 14, the house sitting right across from him. Lovely couple, the first ones, they died when the ceiling fell. He can still hear their cries, as he scrambled to push away the debris. Those cries stopped thirty minutes later. The second couple that came in, he could still hear their screams as the firemen battled to quench the flames. Each new couple so loving, each met a gruesome new fate together. The police suspected him at first, him being so close to the scene. but other neighbors living around the area were around to vouch for him. There were rumours that the house was cursed, after the third couple died. But still more came. This was what, couple fifteen? It was a little morbid, but he thought it inevitable before the newest couple died. Scratch that, maybe the newest couple would survive. They were weird. Well, who wouldn't be, to buy a house where fourteen other couples died. But this couple was different.\n\nWhen he came up to warn them, as he did with every other couple, they brushed him off. But where every other couple grimaced at the thought, the husband, or whatever he was, smiled. Positively creepy.\n\nSo, there he was, participating in his morning ritual of sipping tea.\nHe heard a scream. That was extremely quick, it's only be two days. But then that was quickly followed with yelling the sound of something breaking. This was just another couple wasn't it? It's not like he could break the house's bloody streak. This was different though. It didn't sound like the house breaking or burning or falling at all. The beating sounded, almost human. Then he saw a flash, the woman's face. She mouthed something....help me? Her face vanished as something tugged her by the hair. \n\nHe dropped his tea, and rushed to the door. Then he paused. Was he being a fool? Dared he trespass onto the cursed house, and risk its wrath? Then another scream. This was no time to be held back by superstitious thoughts. He kicked down the door, but what he saw utterly surprised him. \n", "I never knew that it could help me like it did. It was just my perverse obsession, My kink as they say. \n\nI would watch her every morning at 11 A.M. She is so pretty, her skin was a porcelain white, and her lips a candy red.\n\nLike I said every morning at 11A.M. it was always the green mug for tea, the red one was for coffee, and the blue was for guests. But there\n weren't many of those anymore.\n\nShe always took sips, 17 every morning to be exact, I like to be exact. while she read things on her Tablet but this morning she took 18 why. WHY, WHY COULDN'T YOU JUST STICK TO THE PLAN, JUST STICK TO THE FUCKING SCHEDULE. \n\nMaybe I'll just go ask her why. But then she will know. I don't care I have to know.\n\nThat's when I left my house and I was struck by a drunk driver, in the hospital they found out I have a tumor in my brain. She saved my life with the 18th sip" ]	2

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