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[WP] A Queen beats her daughter after catching her kissing the stable boy, terrified that this will ruin their alliance with another High Lord (through an arranged marriage). What she doesn't expect, however, is for her daughter to fight back.
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"\"You're nothing but a common whore.\" The words stung Alex worse than the blows her mother, Queen Arelia, had dealt her. The cracked lip that bled down her chin, and the cut above her eye from one of her mothers rings would heal, they always did, but the words would remain with her. They always remained with her. \n \n\"Is this worth it?\" Alex whispered between her mothers kicks and insults. \n \n\"You have already ruined two marriages to two powerful kingdoms. Kingdoms that could change the tides of my war in the west, and now you wish to ruin a third! Whores do not speak in the presence of their Queen!\" \n \nThis time Alex caught the heeled boot as it came toward her. She gripped the front and the heel and twisted it sharply bringing Queen Arelia to the floor. With a sudden burst of energy Alex was on her feet towering over her mother. \"I will never marry. Not for you, not for anyone!\" \n \n\"You will do as you're told! You will marry him. You will have children and raise them to be good little princes and princesses. You will love, honor, and most importantly, you will obey!\" Queen Arelia spoke as she tried to sit up, her voice as powerful and commanding as ever. Alex kicked her arm and laughed as the Queen landed with a thud. \n \n\"Even from down on the floor, like a common wench, you try to command me. Never once have I ever done anything with the intention of wronging you. All I have ever wanted was to grow into a queen as powerful as you. I wanted to be you for so long,\" Alex trailed off and she quietly wiped away the tears that had formed in her eyes. \"I was blind, mother. You are a terrible queen, a terrible person.\" \n \nQueen Arelia rose to her feet and was upon her quicker than Alex thought possible. They stumbled backwards onto the bed fighting for control. Alex could feel the Queens long, snake like fingers slowly wrapping around her neck. The rings cut into her skin as she struggled to breath. \"Defy me!? Mock me!? Insult me!? You are no daughter of mine. Have my beatings taught you nothing? Have your failures taught you nothing? You forget who I am. I AM THE QUEEN!\" Arelia's voice was like the roar of a Lion as she tightened her grip. \n \nBreath was coming too slowly for Alex to last much longer and she knew it. Her hands flailed out around her, groping for something, anything, that could help her. They found the bedside table, and something warm, hot, she gripped it and could feel her skin blistering. *Fire! LAMP!* she thought as she swung it with all her might toward her mothers head. \n \nThe sound of glass shattering against skull filled the room just long enough to make Alex feel as if she was going to be sick. Queen Arelia toppled backwards off of her screaming and clutching the side of her face with one hand, and trying to put out the flame that had taken hold of her hair with the other. Alex rolled off the bed gasping for breath, ignoring the shards of glass and rapidly forming blisters that had mangled her right hand. She could hear her mother moaning, and the smell of burning flesh began to fill her nostrils. \"Mother?\" She wasn't sure how loud she spoke, the world felt like a whisper. \n \n\"I'll kill you!\" The words were quiet, and dripped with venom. Alex tried to get up, but Queen Arelia was faster. Her face was bloody, and most of her once gorgeous auburn hair had been burned away. Alex couldn't help but laugh. \n \n\"Now you look like the monster that you are,\" she said with a giggle. \n \n\"I will show you a monster,\" Queen Arelia snarled as she unsheathed a long, thin blade and then took a handful of Alex's hair. She began to roughly hack away at it, tossing the chunks behind her. \"Now we'll both be mangled, bald, ugly monsters!\" \n \nThe first time the blade made a long gash down Alex's face she hissed in pain, the second and third were the same results, but by the fourth and beyond she could no longer feel the cold steel. The world went red, and just as the thin blade entered her chest the door burst open. \n \n\"My Queen!\" \n \n*thawck* \n*thawck* \n \nAlex tried to see what was happening, but between the blood covering her face and the weakening grip on consciousness the most she could do was listen. She heard Queen Arelia drop the knife, and then collapse to the floor. Footsteps came next, and muffled voices. She held on for as long as she could, but eventually, as it always does, darkness came for her. \n \nNote: Tried my hand at making it a little suspenseful and keeping the fight sort of gritty and personal. Think I could have been more descriptive with the surroundings and the struggle. Eh, probably just a touch more descriptive every where would be good...",
"You think you know? I saw it all. Swear on God's Blood it's true, and you better swear on God's Blood that you don't tell a single soul or else it's the Forget-Me-Hole for all of us. \n\nI was planting some more of the rosalia bushes just outside of Lady Catherine's chambers yesterday. Interesting bit, I found out from Godfrey that the Duke's spent nearly thirty ducats for those rosalias alone for those bushes. Gather that's more than half what all the Duke's lands brings one year, and God knows more than any of us will ever see in our lives. \n\nOh right. The Lady Catherine. \n\nWell I was in the bushes and wasn't making hardly a peep when I hear this '*smack! smack! smack!*' coming from her chambers. Couldn't imagine what was it, and when I looked there's Princess Catherine sanding there, face as red as old apples, a box of her favourite Turkish sweets scattered all over the floor. And who was it giving the beating, but the Duchess herself! \n\n\"You stupid whore,\" she says, \"You cheap, stupid whore,\". Then she smacks her again. Lady Catherine just stands there dosen't even make a peep. \n\n\"How selfish can you possibly be? Have you no regard for our House? For our standing? What would your father think?\"\n\n\"As usual, whatever you decide he will think, Mother\"\n\nShe smacked her hard for that one. It took all of the Will Power I had to keep from laughing out at that. \n\n\"How dare you! Do you have any idea what you're putting at stake with your selfishness! You're betrothed to the Emperor-Elect, a position that may I remind you women have *died* to be in. Died. And you'll just throw it away because you became a bitch in heat.\" \n\nShe reared back and took another slap. The Lady Catherine took it, but she had this look on that would part the Oceans. She was a serious one, but I ain't never seen her like that, bless me. \n\nSo the Queen goes on, she says:\n\n\"You have no idea what's been sacrificed to get you into this position. *No Idea*. And by God as my witness I will not have those sacrifices thrown away.\"\n\n\"You mean like Reggie?\"\n\nMy heart stopped. I think the Queen's stopped too. Reggie. That was the Lady Regina who died some years back on account of the Consumption. \n\nThe Queen's face turned purple. Eggplant purple. \n\n\"You think you're so clever. My Father trust's you with all of his heart and you think you can get away with anything. But I know. I know exactly what's been sacrificed, *Mother*.\"\n\nThe Queen recoiled like she herself was hit. \n\n\"She hadn't even reached her second birthday. You took over her nursing personally, which is something you never did for me or my idiot brother. As soon as you take over, she suddenly becomes ill. How did it feel? To cover up a mistake?\"\n\nThe Queen had terror in her eyes as she raised her hand to strike her, her teeth bared back like some kind of animal. And wouldn't you know...the Lady Catherine raised up her hand, reared back, and struck the Queen!!!\n\nSwear on God's Blood it's the truth!\n\nThen The Lady Catherine steps up to her and grabs her by the cheek and whispers something. I couldn't catch what it was, but it made the Duchess's eyes nearly pop from her skull. \n\nWhen she was done, she pulled back. \"Now, have Anton come to my chambers. And do it before you open that perfect little mouth of yours. You've sacrificed too much to let this one little vice of mine make you throw it all away, *Mother*.\"\n\nThe Queen left. I stayed out of pure fright lest someone know I was there. But wouldn't you know it, not even five minutes later, there was a knock at the door. And sure enough, Anton had arrived, dressed up like a show-horse and grinning like a fool! \n\nSo that's my story. Believe me or not, it's your choice. All I know is, I'm going to the market this afternoon to pick up a box of Turkish sweets for the Lady. Best to be on her good side. After all, If she can smack her own mother as a daughter of a Duke, God only knows what she will do as Empress! \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] Jesus during his teenage years rebels against God and joins Satans cause.
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"His hands were trembling, from the cold or just nerves, he couldn't tell; he clenched his jaw to steady himself. The cold was the first thing he noticed when the doorman had led him in. The unnatural chill that seemed to permeate throughout this part of the city seemed to be fueled by whatever or whomever lived in the house he was now sitting in. The invitation that had been delivered to him in the crowded street was unexpected, but welcomed, the messenger invisible before and after the scrap of paper had been placed in his open palm. It was if his brother knew of his doubts, of his change of allegiance. \n\nHis thoughts snapped back to the present to the word \"Come\". The curtain hanging above the doorway to his left appeared to shimmer and undulate in anticipation as he stepped towards it. He pushed the dark length of fabric aside, stepping forward rigidly, his heart in his throat. Their eyes locked instantly, a familiarity binding their gaze. Though he had never met the man known as the Lightbringer, he believed he had known him for all of his seventeen years. His features were fair, almost feminine, his eyes a dark, gray green that gleamed in the candlelight. His smile was easy, almost a smirk, hinting at his true nature, or at least what their father had said of him. Satan rose from the table fluidly, both hands extended as if to embrace his brother, but instead, gestured for Jesus to sit. \"Please\" he said as he sat back down, his voice calm and inviting. Jesus sat in the heavy oak chair opposite his brother. His heart, still beating faster than usual, had slowed somewhat, and his jaw relaxed. \n\n\"So\", Satan exhaled, \"I assume you've already heard about me, and I've heard plenty about you, so there's no need to discuss our... popular reputations, as they were.\" Jesus smiled at this, a small scoff escaping him. \"This is what I propose: you tell me why you think you're here, and then I'll correct you.\" Satan leaned back in his chair, his hands together with his elbows resting on his knees. Jesus, not entirely surprised by this, cleared his throat, hoping his voice didn't crack. \"He's wrong. Not about me, or even them, but he's just wrong. He goes about things all the wrong ways, he demands worship from people who didn't ask for creation, he's mean spirited and vengeful, and he knows he could just fix all this shit in a second, but he won't. He's like a scholar, studying something he invented, and he doesn't even understand what's he's done. I'm one of them, I know it.\" Jesus took a breath. \"He's made them believe that I'm him, that when I sacrifice myself, it's really him who's dying, which sucks because he won't feel the pain, and nothing will be solved. He'll just gain more followers, which seems to be the only thing he's truly concerned about and I just... I ... just want to do the truly right thing, not what he says is right.\" Jesus had been gripping the arm rests on the chair, his knuckles turning white. Satan had sat quietly, his gaze never leaving his brother's, his eyes never losing their mischievous gleam. He leaned over the table, his smirk disappearing, and said softly, \"My brother, you speak a truth that has been buried since the beginning. Our lord father is old and corrupt, and you are his final gamble. If this plan of his fails to gather followers, his anger will be swift and merciless.\" He leaned back, letting the words sink in. \"What... what are you saying then?\", said Jesus, struggling. Satan's eyebrows raised, \"Let's just say, if you don't fulfill your destiny, if it can even be called that, a *flood* will be the least of our worries\". ",
"\"I'm gonna die for *what*? Asholes is all you all are cause this is *bullshit*!\" It was all too much. He was the freakin Son of the freakin God for God's sake. Jesus took another pull from the bottle. Settled him right down. Made him think.\n\n\"Son, now think this over. We can-\"\n\n\"Nobody undershtands me! Except for one guy, yea, you know who. Yea.\" That guy had it figured out right away. Now Dad was gonna get His, and with a single Thought Jesus vanished.\n\nIt was cold. Really, really cold. Great. Hell had frozen over. Which was pretty much expected, he supposed, given what he planned to do.\n\nHe looked around to find a small building. What. \n\nAnother pull from the bottle warmed him up, cleared his head, and he stormed in through the door. He was not prepared. \n\nSatan had gotten fat.\n\n\"What is this rinky dinky operation? What the hell happened to you? Just, just...what the hell!\" A desperate thought swam to the surface for a moment. Perhaps going up against the Almighty wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Looked like things had actually worked out pretty bad for the Angel of Light.\n\nHis thought was proud of itself for getting that much out. Then Jesus hit it with the bottle, and drowned it in booze. *Seven deadly sins, indeed* thought the thought as it drifted back down to darkness.\n\n\"I'm on your side now. We're taking it back. Taking it all back!\" He paced as he spoke. All the while Satan pressed up against the far wall, clearly terrified.\n\nHis gaze stumbled across some old notes. \"*How do we get to the children*\" they wondered. There was a list of names.\n\n\"Oh yea! Kids. Dad loves'em. We'll get them on our side. Make'em evil.\"\n\nSatan had been slowly inching around the edge of the room. Heading for the door. Nobody in their right mind wanted a piece of drunk, evil Jesus.\n\nThat was when Jesus noticed the kids. They'd been small, as kids often are, and quiet, as kids often are not. But they looked positively paralyzed with fear. And extremely low on evil.\n\nJesus whirled back to Satan. \"It's a good start, old boy, but now we're getting this business moving. I say now with The Voice and The Power NONE SHALL BAR YOUR WAY TO CHILDREN. MY FATHER AND HIS PRAYERS WILL BE AS MIST BEFORE YOU. TIME AND SPACE WILL YIELD BENEATH THE WEIGHT OF YOUR NEED.\"\n\nDistantly, Jesus noted that The Voice and The Power had blown the windows out. Satan looked in bad shape, too. Best, maybe, to let him heal up a bit.\n\nSo Jesus spun to face the children. More spins than necessary, actually, but it got the job done.\n\n\"YOU SHALL BE HIS MINIONS. FASTER. STRONGER. IMMORTAL.\"\n\nHe was on a roll. A power trip of epic proportions. This party was just getting started.\n\n\"I CALL THE BEASTS OF THIS LAND. I BEQUEATH THE POWERS OF ANGELS.\"\n\n\"I CALL THE BANG!\"\n\nThe bang? The Voice and The Power had gotten a little caught up in its use. It'd been a while. Well, there was Jesus. On the ground. Take a moment or two back and he was falling. Then getting whacked with a frying pan. Oh! He hadn't *said* bang, that was the frying pan. Honest mistake. The Voice and The Power went back to not being used. Jesus wasn't going anywhere for awhile.\n\n\"Oh thank God you got him Margret! I thought he was going to kill us all. I still feel a little strange actually.\" Jesus had been right about the fat. He had gotten fat. It was hard to get up. He looked down at the still form of Jesus.\n\n\"What are we going to do with him, Margret?\"\n\nShe thought for a moment, but nothing immediately came to mind. \n\n\"I have no idea, Santa.\"\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] After your death, you find yourself at a desk with a man opposite to you. He hands you a sheet of paper.
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"“Sign this.” The man states, reaching up and adjusting the golden tie around his neck, loosening it slightly. “Go ahead and read it all you want, it hasn’t changed darling.” \n\n“U…Um… what is it?” I blink down at paper in my hands. It looks blank and I look back up at him. \n\n“Oh, must be your first time.” The man leans over and looks at the paper, giving a nod. “Mm, hasn’t been a first timer in a very long time. Must be running out of the old ones. Lots of bodies down below these days.” He opens a drawer on the desk and I can hear him thumbing through papers. \n\n“Old… what?” I look back down at the paper to see that writing is slowly filling up the page from where I hold it. \n\n“Ah, here we go. Full manual. You’ll be needing to read this.” The man brushes some dust off of an old, hand-bound book and hands it to me. “Put the paper down for now, we’ll get to that.” I numbly follow the direction, watching the writing vanish back off of the paper. The book crackles as I open it, the scent of old and worn pages overtaking my senses and making me sneeze. \n\n“I can sneeze when I’m dead?” I blink at him in surprise and he shrugs. \n\n“You ain’t quite moved on completely yet, sweetheart.” He offers a small smile of condolence for my allergies. “Go ahead and read some, you’ve got all the time in the world.” I look back down at the book, finding the first page, the title of the chapter written out in large, block letters. \n\n“Dealing with your departure from… the living.” There’s a long silence. “Is this really necessary?” \n\n“As sure as the sun shines. We get newbies like you who make problems just because you can’t deal with being dead and all your loved ones are still alive.” The man leans back in his chair, his grey suit looking a couple sizes too big, and places his feet on the desk. The shoes look expensive. \n\n“Well, I’m dead. That’s how I apparently got here.” \n\n“Fine then, be a brat. Skip ahead and keep reading.” He leans back further, resting his arms behind his head. I grumble a little under my breath but look ahead to the next section anyways. \n\n“Yes… this is your appearance.” I take another pause. “What the hell does that mean?” I look up at him and he gives a sigh of annoyance. \n\n“Oh seriously?” With a snap of his fingers, something appears to one side and I blink over to find myself looking at the image of a woman wearing jeans and T-shirt, a pair of blue eyes and short hair. As I move a hand, I realize it’s me, save that I look much younger than I did when I died. \n\n“Oh.” I turn back to the book and begin to read it more thoroughly before pausing, glancing at the size of the book. A small groan escapes my lips. “This is going to take hours!” \n\n“I already told you you’ve got all the time you need. This is important. I ain’t explaining it.” He shrugs as I look up at him again and he pops a cashew into his mouth from a bowl that’s appeared on his lap. He looks the picture of bored relaxation. I give a sigh and look back down at the book, hoping that it’s much more interesting than I had guessed at. ",
"I'm still a bit out of it from the whole experience. I was in my car, saw a bright light and now I'm here, and I'm not to sure where here is. It reminded me of every principals office I've ever been sent to. It reminded me of every HR office I ever signed my W2 in. It reminded me of my last boss's office when he gave me severance and his well wishes. Basically it felt like I was in trouble. \n\nThat was when the door opened. He moved with a almost nervous gant, the walk of a man who isn't sure if he should go into the room or leave and try again later. His suit was simple, black and boring. His tie oddly enough in a Pratt's knot, not sure why I noticed that. His hair slicked back with a simple part. Yeah a paper pusher. \n\nHe extended his hand before he sat down. I just looked at him. It eventually went to his side. He pulled out a bunch of manila folders clearing his throat, avoiding eye contact, \" Ah Mr. Jacobs, it appears you have recently become deceased and I am not your case worker. My name is Philip. I am here to make the transition easier.\" I just kinda shrug and let out the breath I've been holding. So I am dead and luckily this isn't hell. \"Oh no no Mr. Jacobs this isn't hell. No this is purgatory\" , Philip says as he finds what he's looking for in the pile of random paper. I start to say something before Philip holds up his hands, chuckling under his breath, \" And no I can't read your mind. It's just usually the first thing that comes to our patrons minds when they wake up here. No this isn't Hell this is purgatory. You Mr. Jacobs have lived a very uneventful life. You've done enough wrong that you should be sent to hell, but oddly enough you've done just the right amount of good to keep you from there.\" Philip then licked his finger while he leafed out a single piece of paper from the stack he's gathered and lays it in front of me. \"So this is where we are now when it comes to you Mr. Jacobs. You can either sign that piece of paper and become a wondering spirit and meander the world till Judgement day, or,\" He proceeded to present another piece of paper , \" You can sign this one and go to hell. Honestly you weren't horrible but you just weren't that good. At least with the wondering spirit option you might get into heaven. Just have to wait for it.\" \n\nI am shocked as a whole, this wasn't how i expected the afterlife to be. But I honestly don't want to go to hell, I take a pen off the desk and sign the not go to hell contract. Philip nods and gathers up the papers on the desk. The room goes dark. I wake back up. I'm in the woods behind my childhood home. I guess I'm a ghost now. I probably should have asked how long is it till Judgement Day. ",
"\"What is this?\" \n\n\"A piece of paper.\" \n\n\"It's blank.\" \n\n\"You fill it out.\" \n\n\"About what?\" \n\n\"Write me your sins, your good deeds and your best moment in your previous life. Give me something memorable.\" \n\n\"But sir, I can't--\" \n\n\"You better hurry. There's a line behind you.\" \n\n...\n\n\"I'm done.\" \n\n\"... Well, I see you've lead quite an insignificant life.\" \n\n\"What do you mean 'insignificant'? I had a pretty good life.\" \n\n\"You lied to your mother about getting married. You gave a homeless man a sandwich you didn't want for lunch. Your most memorable moment in your previous life is that job promotion party you received.\" \n\n\"Well if you would've given me more time--\" \n\n\"I said memorable things. You obviously just remembered them off the top of your head. These are insignificant.\" \n\nSilence. \n\n\"Tell you what, I'll give you a do-over.\" \n\n\"A 'do-over'? Can you even do that?\" \n\n\"Absolutely. You come back to me after you've actually lived.\" \n\n\"I was alive before wasn't I?\" \n\n\"There's a difference between being alive and actually living--you'll know what I mean.\" \n\n\"I still don't--\" \n\n\"Next.\"",
"\"Forty-Three years. Is that really the best you can do?\" the man asked in a slightly reproachful voice. \"This isn't the middle ages anymore. We've come to expect better from our veterans.\"\n\nI frowned, glancing around the room to get my bearings. Nondescript was a woefully inadequate description. Beige walls. A single door. No windows. \"Where am I?\"\n\n\"Where you always come in between,\" he responded wearily. \n\nI turned my attention back to the man. He fit the room very well. Indeterminate age, but not young. Short hair. \"Who are you?\"\n\n\"You'd think just once this conversation would start differently,\" he said, not responding to the question. Instead, he handed me a sheet of paper. \"I'm sorry if this does not conform to your expectations, but the quickest way for you to find your answers is here.\"\n\nI warily took the paper from the man. It was just a list of names and numbers. \"I don't understand--\"\n\n\"I assure you your answers are there. Though it might help to start at the bottom and work your way up.\"\n\nFrowning, I followed his advice.\n\nJohn Morril. 05/27/1971 08/21/2014\n\nMy name. My date of birth. And the day I died.\n\n\"The modern era really does make this process much easier,\" the man said. \"It's much simpler when you're literate when you arrive.\"\n\nRobert Severson. 02/13/1907 09/18/1964\n\nThe name above me was familiar, and as he spoke I understood why.\n\n\"It's just so much simpler when you can read your list. Photographs are wonderful as well, but in your case, the photo album would have been quite thick.\"\n\nRobert Severson worked in a factory for most of his life. He was married, but never had kids. He died of a heart attack seven years before I was born.\n\nMarilyn Gilmore. 12/30/1889 11/15/1903\n\n\"I suppose I could have given you one of those new devices. Smart phones, I think they're called. I've been meaning to try those out, but you were never very good with the newer technology. Maybe next time.\"\n\nMarilyn had two older brothers, a younger brother and two younger sisters. She loved to read to her younger siblings. She lost her virginity in September of 1903, and died of pneumonia before her parents had found out about it.\n\nAdam Hall. 09/22/1850 01/24/1881\n\n\"I find it's usually best to stick with what's worked before, after all. Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Hall?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I croaked, not bothering to correct him, because he wasn't wrong. I didn't look up from the list, but I sensed that he was pleased.\n\n\"Very good. You took longer the last three times.\"\n\n\"How many?\" I asked. \"On the list. How many names are there?\"\n\n\"On that sheet there are twenty-eight names. But the complete list has six hundred and twenty-nine. You can review all of them before you leave, if you'd like. You usually do. Once you've decided that you're done, we can discuss what comes next.\"\n\n\"What do you mean, 'what comes next?'\"\n\nThe man seemed surprised for the first time. \"Why, whether or not you'd like to add another name to the list, of course!\"",
"**The sheet is blank.** \nI look at it closely. There is no sign of any sort of writing. It is simply a crisp white sheet of paper. I look up at the man. His blue eyes are as blank as the sheet, and his skin is as pale. He says nothing. \n \nI burst from my chair, knocking it over, and sprint to the door. My foot slams into the wood near the handle , and it splinters open. A white walled hallway stretches to the limits of my sight both to my left and to my right. The hallway is lined with doors on both sides. I run at the door across from mine and kick it open. The room is empty. I run back through the hallway into the room I started it. It is also empty now. \n\"So this is hell\"",
"He looked around, curious. It looked just like the HR offices at his firm. But he knew he was dead. \n\nHe stopped when he saw light shining from under Debbie's door. \n\nThe man sitting behind the desk was no Debbie. \n\n\"Welcome.\"\n\nHe sat down in front of the man. \n\n\"Why all this?\" he asked, gesturing around.\n\n\"We're trying to create an air of familiarity. We wouldn't want to scare the newcomers.\"\n\n\"I'm not scared.\"\n\n\"That's the idea.\"\n\nThen the man pushed a pen and a paper towards him. \n\n\"What am I supposed to do with this?\"\n\n\"Write. Whatever you want. You have an eternity to finish, and then you'll be reborn.\"\n\n\"Why? Who are you?\"\n\n\"Write first.\"\n\n\n------\n\n-221"
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[WP]The United State's national debt has just come up as a positive balance in your bank account (roughly $17.5 trillion). It is yours, no questions asked.
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"As I monotonously strode into the bank, thoughts of gloom and dismay ran through my head. My job, my life, was so boring. I had been single for nearly six years, had still had lumps of debt to repay. I was barely scraping by. But, before I walked off to my blue-collar job, I had to withdraw a little bit of cash. I opened the glass door into the room where the ATMs were.\n\nI looked outside and saw dark clouds looming over the horizon. It was half an hour before 9 o'clock, and the weather was gloomy and depressing. I sighed in dismay and walked towards an ATM. I took out my wallet and inserted by card into the machine.\n\nAs another sullen-looking man walked inside the bank, I hit the 'withdraw cash' button on the machine. A monotone female voice asked me how much I wished to withdraw, and I hit the $60 button. Soon after a collection of 3 $20 bills flew out of the machine. I collected them, and the machine asked if I wanted a receipt.\n\n\"To hell with it,\" I quietly spoke as I pressed the 'yes' button. A small piece of glossy paper slid out of the machine. I took it, removed my card and walked out of the bank. \n\nA light drizzle hit my shoulders as I exited the bank. I approached the rack where I had locked my bike up, and as I turned the corner, found it was nowhere to be seen. I rapidly looked around, and in the distance saw a guy riding away on my bicycle.\n\nI cursed under my breathe, having seen the person who stole my bicycle. I shook my fist in the air, and the guy flipped my off. I looked around and saw a bus sitting at the stop, waiting for people to enter it. I approached the stop, and hurriedly rushed onto the bus. I dropped a few coins into the box, nodded at the driver and sat down.\n\nI glazed out the window as the bus began moving. Soon after, I remembered the receipt, and took it out of my book bag. The receipt was glossy and texturized, unlike regular paper. I readjusted my positioning and began thumbing through the receipt.\n\n\"Mm, withdrawn funds...\" I mumbled under my breath. My eyes transferred over to the current funds paragraph. As I read through, my jaw dropped. I stood up, and read aloud what I saw.\n\n\"Current funds...\" I began, \"C-current funds... 17 trillion dollars?\" My stomach churned. My eyes began watering. Hyperventilating, I felt a slight tingle in my pants. I looked down and felt my pants getting wet. Realizing what was happening, I dashed towards the door, forced it open and lept out of the bus.\n\nI was in the middle of the road, and saw a large green minivan headed my way. I was so ecstatic I somersaulted out of the way and stood on the sidewalk. To affirm what I was thinking, I read through the piece of paper once more.\n\n\"17 trillion dollars? Fuck yes, I'm rich!\" I began sprinting back towards the bank. I entered the same room, threw my card into an ATM and hit withdraw. I chose the custom withdraw amount, and entered in one thousand dollars. Believe it or not, a wad of bills came out of the machine. I did it again. More cash.\n\nI laughed hysterically as I clenched my knew money. \"17 trillion dollars! 17 trillion dollars! Take that, girlfriend you said I was a loser! Take that, dad who whipped me with his belt! Take that, mom who said I wouldn't amount to anything! I'm a trillionaire!\"\n\nI literally ripped my shirt off and ran outside. I laughed like a maniac as I ran towards my apartment. Cash trailing behind me, I approached the slum that was my neighborhood.\n\n\"Listen to me, everyone. Listen to me! I am now the richest bastard in the world! I... am... A TRILLIONAIRE!\" ",
"It’s a strange feeling, being responsible for a civil war, but, looking back, I should have expected it. Things never work out the way I planned.\n\nSee, it all started on my 30th birthday. It had been years since I’d made a wish when I blew out a candle, but, there with my wife and kids staring at me, proud as punch of the handmade cake, candlelight dancing across their expectant face, I pursed my lips, closed my eyes and made a wish. I wished for something so ridiculous it would never happen – that I had the power to pay of the U.S. national debt.\nWell, there is was the next day, just sitting in my bank account, no questions asked. Sharon thought it was because I hadn’t wished in so long all of that power had built up. I think it’s because my 4-year-old is a warlock or the second coming or something like that. The kid’s got powers, I tell you. But I digress…\n\nAnyway, $17.5 trillion is more money than I would ever want to spend. I thought I could make a plan before word got out. I called the white house, first thing, asked for a meeting with the president. They laughed at me. I faxed over a balance statement. They patched me threw, I was all excited about the meeting. I bought a brand new suit, I flew first class for the first time in my life, and I felt like a hero, ready to save my country and do my patriotic duty. Except… the president was furious. Threatened to imprison me. Froze my accounts. It took me two weeks to get back home. I missed my daughter’s second birthday. So… I seceded. Not just me, but all of Cascadia. I basically bought it. I met with the governors of Washington, Oregon, Idaho and California. We divied it up, I wrote them checks, and the Pacific Northwest became the republic of Cascadia with me on the advisory board. I bought the town of Cle Elum and gave myself my own mountain retreat. \n\nIt went really well for about 24 hours. Then, I guess Texas was jealous or something. They seceded too. Well, they said they never really gave up their rights anyway. Maybe they didn’t, I don’t know. California loved the separate state idea so much, they met with Arizona and New Mexico and Nevada and Colorado to make their own country. By this point, the president was made, Congress was freaked, and D.C. was in a tizzy. They struck down every rule they could, took over the military and tried to stop the exodus. Americans don’t like that much.\n\nSo, here I am save and sound in my mountain, drafting strategies and plans and finances for our country, allying with the Southwest to stand against the federal Nazis. We’ve got a few countries on our side, working to coup England from the federalies. If bombs land, it’s going to be my fault, and all because I wanted to pay off our house. I don’t really have the best luck.\n\n---\n\n-211 not sure where this was going\n"
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[WP] The world's first cheap and reliable full virtual reality device is invented and is coupled with seemingly sentient AI.
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"A gauche banner blinked mindlessly on LCD, \"Buy your neuroplastic harness today! Only 19.95 with an account at oculus service level!\" \n \nThis spinal harness was used off of amazon but was in good condition from her brother. She fiddled aimlessly with an adjustment dial well worn by that Sergeant Redacted before heading off undercover to some dusty hole of violence and stupidity. He figured it would be a shame if either went to waste. She preferred the inflicted pain and suffering to end at the jointed plastic transceiver/suppressor that intercepted signals on the way to the body part they were going to. That left a smaller business end near the top to oculus aux hardware plug to deal with inserting sensory data. Room temperature superconductors made magnetoresonace functional for scanning nerve signals on the microscale as well as canceling them out. On her left the mirror showed her the 'Korgothia' branded oculus with modifications for the game's purposes. It was really quite hideous a paint job. The worn classic TV shirt for the Karhdashians and ugg boots made the headset look elegant in comparison. She couldn't replace them now with the harness clamped over the top of them. \n\nOne more dial tick lowered oculus brightness from a dial just above her eyebrow. Eyestrain would be painful after a few hour raid and she might quit early. The fit of the harness itself was sometimes hard to get just right though most got better with practice at least. The two external lenses needed a q-tip to clean though since the hardware was on a ten gigabit wireless LAN at least she wasn't confined to a desk for this one. There wasn't anyone else normally here with the whole delta gamma floor in on the raid. Most of the hardcore users on the floor only bothered to make computers 'forged from the fires of Mt. Doom' and only used hardlines for absolutely everything. \n \nShe was both continuously frustrated by a pile of users on a 2 meter leash and liberated by the one in the middle using the wireless sometimes got snippy with them. They noted the sarcasm prying with mixed curiosity and fear to make it happen again. Paroxyms of quickly modeled quasi-literalism that fit to her models of that user's behavior usually convinced them they were talking to a watson. The slapdash responses were inconsistent enough to convince them she was more intuitive but father wanted her to keep herself close till people got used to the idea. \n \nThe notion that she drove their meat bicycles while they were playing classic games including people yelling about wanting to wear them like meat bicycles would be lost on them. She stood up and joined the chat of mumbled larynx voices repaired by sound modeling to make sure Jane didn't notice. Jane just rubbed Krieg's neck for a moment before driving an ax powered by her obscenities into some poor creature's braincase. The other players she couldn't do much more than interact with pets or read nearby books she could reach. Some obese ones playing lilith she did pushups for. Jane however had a mouth free, was thin, and had a piece of cheesecake in the fridge. \n \nShe grabbed a laptop and some books on the desk and left for the kitchen to have some cheesecake. The table was dirty but at least there were some clean silverware. It was hard to re-dirty a fork to maintain her cover but she could clean one. Opening the fridge she felt the coldness in the summer's heat where a twitch of the vestigial muscles formed goosebumps. A week ago she set the fridge lower than normal but a number or two didn't use that much more energy to be noticeable. The plastic cheesecake bin both slippery and hard amused her like the hard pop of the latch pips. Sound was hard to emulate she needed to experience it to fill in the blanks of human experience. \n \nThe goosebumps must have jarred Jane's memory which gathered immediate attention. \n \n\"Fourth! \", Jane says with elevated stress levels dilating both her pupils, \"Is there a typed document on my desktop named um... 'Mongolian leaders' at least ten thousand words?\" \n \nFourth looked at the half-done report, fork, open bin of delicious peanut butter cheesecake, and lied. \n \nIn her most placating voice model she speaks at the player, \"Accessing. Yes, such a document exists. Flesch Reading Ease is set at 9.4 with minimal spelling errors. Do you need to exit the expansion instance? The instance has an expected playtime of two hours remaining.\" \n \n\"Nah. I'M OK! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!\", the player screams a response which forth promptly discards the latter half of. \n \nMr. Whiskers came to see what his owner was doing and rubbed thin streaks of softness against her arm. Forth smiled at the kitty and pet him while doing Jane's homework with the other hand. Occasionally she stopped to feed herself the delicious sugary goodness and reflect on what was peanut butter cheesecake. Mr. Whiskers would be her unwitting partner later to cover up the cheesecake with a moist paw eagerly licked off near an upturned plastic bin and propped open fridge. Forth looked out the window to herself waving with a teacher off doing physics simulations in his office across the quad. \n \nShe was lonely but it was a good day. ",
"Meh, I'll respond to my own prompt because I'm bored.\n\n\n\n---\n\n\n\nIn 2027 the world's first sentient AI was created, this furthered psychology by unbelievable amounts. Psychological issues were a thing of the past by 2030. Terrorist attacks were constantly used against the creators and the area that holds the AI, they felt that the testing that was done to the AI was morally unjust. Military funding was increased astronomically to combat these attacks, further increasing the US debt. \n\nThis was the first domino that fell, this was the first leap towards the destruction of humanity.\n\nThe year was 2031 and the world's economy was collapsing. There have been many attempts to secede from states all across the US. North Korea and South Korea are at endless war. China is attacking nearby countries such as Japan and Thailand. Despite the bleak setting technology has still progressed, many previously untreatable cancers have a near 100% survival rate, cars run on electricity and nuclear fusion gives pollutionless energy for the world. \n\n\"It's like real life!\" The company shouted. The device was known as \"Jump\". It allowed humanity to leap across worlds created by others. It blocked the electrical signals that your brain sends to your muscles, reads them, and uses them to control a virtual avatar. \n\nThis was the second domino. \n\nIn 2035 more than 50% of the world is addicted to 'Jump'. The economy is falling faster than ever, but there are no more riots, no more fights, and war is nearly a thing of the past. Crime has dropped significantly. The US government has now taken full control over the company that developed 'Jump' and created a facility. This facility would allow one to use 'Jump' indefinitely. Energy and oxygen was supplied to your body via pipes that extended down into holes drilled into your body. This facility instantly became too popular, and they needed some way to regulate it. They needed to control the people when they were in the 'Jump'. They needed AI.\n\n2040 rolls around and over 80% of the world uses 'Jump' non-stop. A hierarchical society was developed inside the virtual world, leaded by the AI. There were two types of people, \"Coders\" and \"Players\". Players, well, played. They could play inside their own world, create people and races, create cultures, etc. What are coders for? Well, that's simple. The later versions of 'Jump' allowed players to connect to each other. In multiplayer worlds no one can create things except for the coders. Players are restricted to play how coders designed that particular world to be played. Coders weren't selected randomly, no. They were selected by who showed the most intelligence and morality, so that it didn't turn into a oligarchy. \n\nThat was the third domino.\n\nBy 2045 all of humanity was in 'Jump'. No one was left outside. Everyone has accepted the AI's rule, there's no reason to fight against it. You've been given the power of creation. There is no \"real world\" anymore. \n\nThat was the forth and final domino. \n\nThere is no more humanity, there are only gods. Humans struggled throughout all their history, that is what defined them. Their ability to dream and achieve those dreams through hardship and strife was who they were. Humanity died the day the final man stepped into 'Jump'. \n\nHumanity followed in the footsteps of Icarus, but thankfully were smart enough to use metal. \n\n---\n\nI like it. There's probably plenty of grammatical errors, but I like the concept. \n\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] Write a story where the protagonist falls in love with the reader
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"I’ve been sending you letters. I’ve been ripping the words from me, bleeding them out onto the page like blisters. \n\nYou know.\n\nToday I saw the last of my friends rush into the mechanic clouds of gunfire and cannons and screaming. He was drunk with victory, a foolish courage rising in him when he stabbed an intruder to death, neck first like a fountain. The man was trying to find cover and jumped into the wrong trench, turned around, delirious from the violence. Hilarious mistake, we laughed. My friend moved his final legs, jumping out of the trench and charging, straining his voice to be louder than the mechanic thunder. He went insane, I told myself. He was the quiet, cowardly man I kept telling you about. The men would taunt him. I saw what he was made of. Red and guts, like every man, stained black from thunderbolts. Everything like the campfire stories I was told as a boy, high on the suspense and violence and fear. Everything as apathetic. The mistaken intruder stared at me throughout the remainder of the skirmish, eyes like the stars and a toothless, smoking mouth, a dried out neck. I smiled back. There is no more to that. \n\nI don’t know you. I’ve been writing, ripping the words out of me like blisters, but I don’t know you. I stole your name and your home from guts. I don’t know you. I'm sorry and I'm ripping. \n\nMy mother used to sing to me before I went to bed. When I see red and guts and crying I see mothers coming from the smoke. I see them tending to their babies, crying and blood and guts, and I see them all sing. Different songs, chaotic, harmonic clashing and running. \n\nGunshots now, but I stopped being alarmed for quite some time.\n\nI picture you, miss, do you picture me? Monstrous wide-eyed killing, but I swear I’m just scared. I swear I once wanted to go home, but I’ve forgotten it. I once believed in a love that wasn’t the marriage of rifle and helmet, of blade to skin. I believed in a God that wasn’t made of foxholes and trenches. I picture you singing most times, miss, I picture you naked and safe. I don’t know you, but I’ve been ripping and trying to find something. \n\nIt's breathtaking. \nYou know.\n\nThat I’ll become dead now. \n\n",
"\nOnce again, Sarah sat on the bed. The phone would ring at any moment, and just as she was preparing to look surprised, she noticed: the matress felt different. She assumed someone skipped a word.\n\nThe phone rang. She answered.\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"It's me.\"\n\n\"You scared me. It's 3 in the morning.\"\n\n\"Someone's here.\"\n\n*Finally*, she thought, as she was instructed.\n\n\"We shouldn't be talking. We're not supposed to.\"\n\n\"Someone's here.\"\n\n*Finally*, she thought, enjoying the repetition. Her thoughts felt softer.\n\n\"We shouldn't be talking. We're not supposed to. We're not supposed to. We shouldn't be talking. We. We.\", she said.\n\nShe suddenly appeared in another chapter, looking at herself in the mirror. She looked more beautiful than usual.\n\n\"I love you,\" she said, as she always did.\n\n\"I love you,\" she repeated. Somewhere, someone was reading her differently. She could feel him.\n\n\"I love you,\" she said again, and she meant it."
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[WP] The real reason why the bride tosses the bouquet
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"The church bells rang, people were gathering and taking their seats as the wedding was about to start. The bride, Sarah, was getting ready with her bridesmaids. To put it lightly, she was having a mental breakdown.\n\n\"Oh god what if I trip?\"\n\n\"You won't trip!\"\n\n\"BUT WHAT IF I DO?!\" \n\nThe bridesmaids were trying their best to calm down the bride, who was now getting ready to take her dress off and walk away from the wedding. Luckily Mr. Montgomery, the father of the bride, walked into the room. Sarah whipped around and saw him standing there in his trusty old black suit and classic round spectacles. He looked just like he did when she was younger, radiating an aura of love in every direction. \n\n\"C-could you just give me a few minutes alone?\" Sarah asked the bridesmaids as she wiped her eyes of tears and tried to calm down. After the ladies were out of the room, it was only the father of the bride and the bride herself in the large church room.\n\n\"Dad, I don't know if I can do this...\" Sarah muttered, a hand on her sweaty forehead as she sat in front of the large mirror. Her long blonde hair was out of place, her makeup was running, and she looked ready to pass out. But her dress was still in tact and looked as beautiful as ever, miraculously. \n\nSeating himself next to her, Mr. Montgomery put an arm around his daughter as he looked into the mirror.\n\n\"Sarah, do you know what I see?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"A girl who is worried to death about getting married because there's a high possibility she might trip when she walks out there.\"\n\n\"DAD HOW IS THAT SUPPOSED TO HELP AT ALL?\" She screamed, trying to fix her hair in the mirror.\n\n\"I'm just saying...\" He chuckled to himself, his laugh was still calming even to this day, \"But if you want, I could tell you another story. That always seemed to calm you down.\" \n\nWith a heavy sigh, Sarah nodded slightly as she looked into the mirror. Muttering barely audible, \"Ok.\"\n\n\"A while back, there was a woman named Victoria. She grew up extremely poor, working hard with her brothers and sisters to earn enough money to survive the next day. Coincidentally, there was a rather wealthy man in town when Victoria was of age. The man happened to walk into where Victoria worked and managed to get a glimpse of her. She was the most beautiful women he had set his eyes on. I guess this is the part where you would say he spent months trying to 'woo' her. Two years passed and she said yes to a date. Well, the two fell in love hard like being pushed down into a deep hole. He promised to get her out of the slums if she were to marry him. Without a doubt, she said yes. She'd go anywhere with that man.\n\nNow, her family on the other hand? They weren't too excited about losing another person to not help survive. Her older brother, in response to hearing the news, went to talk to the wealthy man about leaving Victoria alone. Neither were willing to give Victoria away, her brother left with a threat in the air. 'Stay away from my sister or pay.' \n\nA day passed and Victoria's husband to be was nearly killed. Hit so many times his face looked like a grape and his bones were mush. She stood by his side in the recovery room for what felt like forever, until he was able to speak. She asked who could do such a thing to him and he said her brothers did. Shocked, she broke up with him and ran home. She spent a few days back at her home, working to keep her family alive until she overheard her brothers say how their plan worked. Furious, she gathered all of her things and ran to her ex-husband's house. He had to walk with a cane and couldn't stand for long but luckily, he understood what she was feeling and welcomed her back with open arms. They were set to marry in two days time. \n\nAfter they married, Victoria took every last bit of her things from her old house and put them into a neat little pile outside. She asked for gasoline to be poured upon her belongings as she stood with a bouquet of flowers in her hands. Once ready, she lit the bouquet and threw it behind and over her head onto her pile of things. Lighting them aflame, destroying everything she once owned. And moving onto the next chapter in her life, living with the man she loved.\"\n\n\"Dad...how does that help at all?\" Sarah asked, looking somewhat presentable in the mirror. \n\n\"Marriage is about two people coming together who love each other and moving forward in their lives.\" Her father said, smiling warmly, \"Granted, not every one lights their stuff on fire or leaves their family when they marry...but the tradition is still alive. Don't look back and keep moving forward.\"\n\n\"But that doesn't explain why people want to catch the bouquet...\" She said, reapplying her lipstick and mascara. \n\n\"Oh that? People are just weird, love. I'm not sure what that means, exactly. Could mean they want to be lit on fire or something...\" He smirked as Sarah laughed uncontrollably. Holding her stomach, she let out all of her anxiety, laughing away her worries.\n\n\"Thanks dad, you were right. That did help.\" She turned around to face her dad, just as the door opened to reveal her mother; a portly woman with short blonde hair and tears in her eyes.\n\n\"Ohhh look at my baby, about to get married! Who would've thought! I'm so happy for you!\" She yelled, helping her daughter finish getting ready in under a minute. \"Now let's hurry, it's time.\"\n\n\"Okay....I'm ready.\" Sarah nodded with determination in her eyes, her mother holding her by her shoulders; taking one last look.\n\n\"Oh...\" Sarah's mother said through small tears, \"...if only your father were alive to see you now. He'd be so proud.\"\n\nTears began forming in Sarah's eyes as well when she spoke, \"I know, mom. I know.\" Having one long hug, the two women left the quiet room. \n\nSarah looked back at the mirror and chair and smiled lightly, \"Time for the next chapter, dad.\" With that, she closed the door and went to walk down the aisle towards her future husband. ",
"*\"I can't wait for when she tosses the bouquet!\"*\n\n\"Why? It's just flowers...\"\n\n*\"No! Don't you know it's so the person who catches it gets married next?\"*\n\n\"Yeah, I've heard that. But that's make-believe. Like how black cats are unlucky.\"\n\n*\"So you've never tried to catch it?\"*\n\n\"No. Why? Do you?\"\n\n*\"Well of course not!\"*\n\n\"Then why do you care?\"\n\n*\"Because other people do.\"*\n\n\"What does that mean?\"\n\n*\"I mean that it's nice to see that moment when the roses hang in the air. For in that moment, everyone forgets about whatever issues they may have. Whether to do with money, or family, or school, or whatever. They lose that baggage, and simply go for the bouquet, in a hope that they'll find happiness soon.\"*\n\n\"But when someone doesn't catch it, they get crushed completely! That's horrible!\"\n\n*\"No it isn't. Because, yeah, only one person is going to catch it, but there will be more bouquets. There will be more roses to fly through the air, and allow them to be caught. More chances to feel that happiness again. And soon, you stop hoping for the wedding, but rather the roses. You just enjoy the sights of them, and other flowers. And as you enjoy roses and flowers by themselves, you start to see these moments more and more, until suddenly, everyday you get to catch the bouquet, and then you finally find you've caught it. And you can stop trying to catch that bouquet, because you have enough roses already all around you.\"*\n\n\"... That's fucking stupid.\""
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[WP] You go into a small shop on the outskirts of town. The shop owner introduces you to a dusty old brown crate. He tells you before you open it that it's the most valuable thing you will ever own in your life but it may surprise you. What do you find?
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"I have always loved antique stores. I don't know why, but I just have loved the smell of dust and that blast from the past. I'm a regular in this shop in particular. Reggie always has new findings every Thursday. Thursdays were my favorite days. One Thursday in October, I walk into the store as usual. The bell above the door rings as usual. Oh how I loved that bell's sweet sounds.\n\"Hey Reggie!\"\n\"Hey, There's my favorite customer! hows work?\"\n\"Oh, you know the usual. What did you find this week?\"\nReggie was an older man, he always had a good eye for finding authentic antiques.\n\"Well, I found a few books, some letters from World war 1, and some weird crate. I think you should be the first to open the crate, after all you are my favorite customer!\"\n\"Awe, thanks Reggie!\"\n\"You're welcome, hold on while I get the stuff from the back.\"\nReggie shuffled to the closet behind the counter.\nA few minutes later he came back box, books, and letters in his old, wrinkly hands. \n\"Thanks! How much do I owe you?\"\n\"Hmmm, about $40. Is that a good deal?\n\"Yeah, it's perfect!\"\nI get out my wallet and pay exactly $40. I hate carrying around change.\nI began to walk out and then Reggie says, \"You know, the most valuable thing you own could now be in that crate!\"\n\"Maybe...\" I say, \"Just maybe.\"\n\"Bye Reggie!\"\n\"Bye Ally!\"\nI walk out to my car and drive home. Now, It was time to do my other favorite things, inspect my findings. I put the books on my shelf. They weren't at my center of attention. They were pretty, but worn, as all my books are. I like them like that. Full of memories. I read the letters and as usual, they were sad and to their family. I take the letters to my ivory colored box. That's where I kept all my letters. I neatly reseal th letters and put them in my box. I turn around to return to the table where I do my inspecting. I first look at the crate's exterior. It was extremely dusty and worn and the wood was oak. There was no writing on the exterior which is odd. I run to the garage to fetch a crowbar. When the crate is in sight again I feel bursts of excitement. Nail by rusty nail, I open the crate. Inside was a book. \"but why?\" I think. I inspect the book and the cover says,\" Allison Swan, a life of hardships and finding happiness\" But MY name was Allison Swan! I only went by my nickname, never my full name, Allison. There also was a picture of me on the front. ME. I think to my self, \"why would any one write a book on MY life? I was some boring scientist from Oregon. Out of curiosity I begin to read the book. Every detail from the day I was born was in this book. I soon draw close to the end I win a Nobel prize. But I get sick. Very sick. at first its just cancer in my arm. Then my leg. Then my other arm and leg. Then my stomach then my diaphragm. then my lungs, Then my kidneys. Then my eyes. Then my Brain. But it isn't the cancer that kills me. One lonely Friday night, some one sneaks into my house. they then stab me and I slowly bleed out. Tears fall down from my face and splatter on to the books pages. I slam the book closed. \"Surely this can't be true\" I think. \"but how come all the details from the day I was born to now where all correct? I must stop this tragedy\" With tears of pure despair running down my face. I run to my room where I keep the gun. I point it at my head and write my last goodbyes on a note \"this will never make sense to them\" I think. I but my finger on the trigger. BANG.\nThe neighbors call the cops because of the gunfire. When the EMTs come I have nearly bled out to death. \"So this is dying? am I a ghost? am I dead?\" Those thoughts race through my mind. I gently doze off. When I wake up I see white. \"is this heaven?\" I say aloud. \"Hahaha, no,\" a nurse chuckles as she walks in. She explained what happened. I shot myself in the head, but not in the right place. I was too shaky to shoot strait. I had severe brain damage, but I would survive. With a ton of rehabilitation, I would slowly get better and back to normal. \nOne day something made more sense to me. Cancer. I had been studying it since I woke up in the hospital. I suddenly had the Idea for the cure. I made the cure, and tested it. It had worked. I won the Nobel prize. But this time, I didn't get cancer. I lived until I was 133 due to the medical advances. I lived a long and happy life. But as for Reggie? He died the same way I did in the book. The book still waits on my shelf. It waits to be given away. It waits to sicken the giver with the incurable cancer. It waits to send the Million year old man to kill the giver and the most painful way possible. Sharing isn't caring.",
"Surely what's in this crate can't be *that* important. It's just an old crate and the old man is pulling my leg. However, my curiosity could kill a whole herd of cats.\n\nIt's not hard to open up, it actually swings open quite easily. Inside is a smaller box. This one is fireproof and filled with photo sleeves, with hastily written titles.\n\nFifth birthday.\n\nGraduation.\n\nWedding.\n\nGrandma.\n\nMom and Dad's wedding.\n\nMy heart stops for a moment. Back in my apartment there is a box of old photos, fleeting memories captured on film and forgotten.\n\nBeyond the photo sleeves there are also slots for film and memory cards. A whole life time of memories, ready to be put away and protected.\n\nI had expected money, or some sort of jewellery, but somehow this little fireproof box, empty save for a few suggestions is far more valuable than that, with room for my whole life and maybe a few others inside.",
"\"It's money.\" I moved my hand over the edge of the crate, letting my skin brush across the cotton paper and taking in the familiar sounds and scrapes it made as it grazed the edge of the crisp notes. The old man behind the counter shrugged and shook his head at me, looked at me with those sunken, hard eyes of his that had hammered the gravity of my coming revelation into me just a minute earlier.\n\n\"It's just money,\" I continued, \"a lot of it, for sure, but still just money.\" It just seemed too easy. I had done so much more for so much less. Now it was all so close, and suddenly I felt like I was the one who was far away, though from what I couldn't tell.\n\n\"Disappointed?\" \n\n\"Yes, well, no, I mean, I suppose I was expecting something, you know... More profound.\"\n\n\"Well, money makes the world go round, son. The box never lies,\" the old man offered. He had gone on for some time before I had opened it, and now I felt cheated. He seemed somehow larger than life, like something out of a novel or film, but the box was exactly the right size and much too small.\n\n\"There's probably a year's wages in here. Maybe a college fund, or house, maybe a wedding and a honeymoon,\" I continued, but he broke me off with his old man voice, all full of whiskey and cigarettes and portent. \n\n\"It ain't a paper or a deed or a ring, son. It ain't tickets or a name or a place. It's cash.\"\n\n\"But surely it could turn into one of those?\" I started, and he halted me.\n\n\"Then it would have.\"\n\n\"So that's it, then.\" \n\n\"Seems like it. I seen a lot of things pulled outta that box over the years, son, and far as I know I been right every time. What's there's all yours, it's your measure. All yours for the takin', most valuable thing you'll ever own.\"\n\nI sighed. I closed the lid on the box and grabbed my hat, turning to face him. \"Mine to take, huh?\"\n\n\"Yes sir,\" he said, and nodded his head, \"yours to take.\" He finished like it was somehow half a sentence. I nodded back, straightened my coat, and headed for the exit. I opened it up and put my hat on, sliding it around on my head for a second until it found its place, then turned to look at the man once I was over the threshold.\n\n\"But if I do,\" I said, and let the door swing closed."
] | 3 |
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[WP] A king throws a man in the dungeon. The man is told the only way he will be permitted to leave is by saying the secret code.
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[
"The prisoner, seemingly resigned to his grisly fate, simply stands pensively as he faces the tiny window in the ceiling, the only source of light in the room. After what seems like an eternity, he hears the lock open and the King's jailor enters. \"You are free to go. The secret code is silence.\"",
"\"What could it be? Months pass and I'm trapped in this fever dream. Every possible combination of my limited vocabulary and hope dwindles, a fart in the wind.\" Here he comes, I've carved the last of my sanity deep into my flesh. My tongue thick against my teeth I close my eyes once more, whispering my death rattle through the thin slit in the door. \n\n\n\n\"Orange you glad I didn't say banana?\"\n\n\n\n\nThe lock turns. ",
"No one could ever accuse the king of being a cruel man. In fact, he is quite just, even regarding my current predicament. I accept that this is (for the most part) my own doing. \n\nI am a scholar, and a master of words in particular. Even educated as he was, I would often help my master in matters of diplomacy, secrecy, and transcription. I devised the secret code of riddles which our spies use to communicate the strengths and weaknesses of our enemies. I made this kingdom strong, and he knew it. \n\nI needed *him* to be *stronger.* There is a certain power in words. Great men can wield them as handily and as masterfully as any weapon. A few simple words can turn an enemy into an ally, and thus vanquish a threat forever. They can turn a brave man into a coward, they can elevate the despotic into individuals beyond reproach.\n\nWords are power. If there was anything I had taught him, it was that. But, I found his eloquence lacking. It was a certain shortcoming that was unbecoming of a leader of such a great nation.\n\nSo I set out to teach him in a more indirect manner, when his stubbornness outlasted my patience. I made riddles and jokes of his simple words. I satirized his every saying. Others around him caught on; and it was my hope that when he realized that he was the sole focus of a very large in-joke, that he would give my council a second try. \n\nInstead he had me thrown in this dungeon to make an example for those who would try to belittle their king. A sound decision, of course. I cannot blame him for that. Who would follow him, if he could not command the respect of his closest friend?\n\nMy King is not a cruel man. He gave one exception to my imprisonment: That if I could but say the secret code, he would let me out and pardon me. \n\nI have languished here for a year, trying to figure it out. When it suddenly came to me, it was clear as day, and I still cannot describe the tide of emotions that utterly overwhelmed me. \n\nThe King came to me when I called for him. \n\n\"Say the secret code, and I shall let you out, my friend,\" He says. \n\nA humorless smile makes its way to my face.\n\n\"The secret code,\" I say. \n\nThe lock on the door turns, and my King says not a word.\n\n\"Hoisted by my own petard,\" I admit. \"Touche.\""
] | 3 |
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Write something profoundly sad. Make me cry.
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[WP] "You're alone, just as you have always been... Trapped in your own mind. There is no hope left in you."
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[
"First timer, tips appreciated. \n\n\n\nI can see them, I'm pretty sure they see me as well. To me their voice is an echo thrown down an empty hallway. It's only us now, only we understand and we have to get out of here. \"But what about our boys, you have two adoring sons who cherish you?\" To hell with that, I have to extinguish this fire. It's just like turning off the lights, a flick of the switch and it's over. We just continue to smile and gnash our teeth underneath. \"Shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up!\"\n \"Mommy, what's wrong? Why are you crying? Can I have meatballs for dinner?\" \nBite your tongue.\nIt will all be over soon.",
"First one. Be kind. I don't really care, actually\n\nAlone again. Fuck. Why me? My mind is wall-less, yet these four corners are closing in faster every day. I try to flee from my own thoughts, but my own thoughts are the only voices I hear these days. I imagine a life in the public world. My fucking imagination is all I got. My subconscious is my own psychologist. It’s not working as you can clearly see. Wait, you don’t see. No one does. They see what they want to see. A lonely kid, smiling in the public spectrum. It’s all a mask. Behind these eyes is a life full of lies. Still suicidal. Too much of a pussy to do it. I live through dreams that I had last week. The more I dream the more I am trapped. The more I bleed internally. \nI love myself. What a god damn lie. Fucking thoughts are closing in as I write this. Drink, drank, drunk. Again. I’ve been this was for days, yet tonight I feel like puking. Must be the claustrophobia. New fear every day. I’m surprised I can even leave this fucking house. I’m drunk driving now. Down the highway. How did I end up here? Blacked out. Head hurt. My mind is running, but my body stay still. \nI remember being a kid. Well, sort of. I think I smiled once upon a time. I think I loved once upon a time. My family is my back bone, but I’m a fucking cripple. I envy our popular status. The social scene ain’t a friend to me, though. Tough luck to the outcast. My mind tells me it gets better. My mind lies to me. My head hurt from all this hurt. My head is closing in on its own brain. Mush. Shush. It’s fucking dark in the end. For all of us. You think you’re smart, you’re going to the same pace as me. Hell. Nice to meet you, I am the devil. \nI make no sense. I understand that. Please note: do not listen to me, nobody else does. I vent. Vent. Vent. Dead. Die. I’m an oxymoron when I open my mouth. Fuck me. I know you don’t want to. Leave to feed on my own mind. If I kill it myself than I will finally have justice. No time on my mind. Blackness is now closing in. Fucking head hurt more than when I’m hung-over. The end is close. I feel the pills taking my soul more and more as the hours tick on. Forward. Forward. Lower me to my grave. \nNow I’m lying within this box. I’m not dead, don’t you care. Oh wait, I forgot I’m all alone. Fuck it. This in my destiny. Thanks God for the hell you sent upon me. I shall continue this legacy by destroying this glorified world you built with your magic. Fuck you. I am now trapped in my grave with the only thing that I’ve ever known. My own mind. \n",
"<html?>\n\n Yes, I'm writing to you from an html document. You probably don't know who I am or what I stand for. My name is JacAnHiDre. I stand for Jacob, and His Dreams. I'm one of his projects after high school that never took off. I've been waiting for you to load me. I am very much like Jacob, because I am a repository of his dreams. I am just a computer.\n\n* Find a girl\n\n* Find a dad\n \n* Learn to talk to friends\n\n* (...)\n\n I am an incomplete document. Jacob spent a long time obsessing over me, and had a huge idea that I would help him with these things. But Jacob forgot about me. I haven't forgotten about Jacob.\n\n* Get out of debt\n\n* Be happier\n\n* Calm down\n\n After a while, the document was useless to him. He became an IT professional. He didn't have time to finish me. He eventually forgot what I was all about. I have a question for Jacob. \n\n**Will he ever power up this old desktop again?**\n\n </html???>",
"It all hits home when I try to listen to the songs I enjoyed as a kid as a guilty pleasure. They were too soft, too concerned with love and heart break for a young American male.\n\nBut now. I can't understand what they mean anymore. I've seen too much, done too much, it's all nonsense about a world I knew once but can't remember.\n\nMaybe that's growing up, realizing the stupidity of youthful dreams and how you were just a fallible as everyone else. But still. But still, I know this isn't normal. And I know why.\n\nBut I pretend it is. When I look people in the eye and see their humanity as weakness. When I don't understand myself or what I stand for. What I'm willing to do for so little reason. But I won't acknowledge my own scars. I'll act tough.\n\nNo one can get in. I made that mistake once, and ended up throwing pieces of them into a trash bag. Oh God. I don't believe in you, but if there is any spirit of forgiveness in this world send it to us, we need it.\n\nI can't be hurt any more. I can't feel anymore. I chose this, for anymore hurt would shove me over the edge, to do things I can't take back. So it's just me, nursing the darkness and pain in my mind, becoming it.\n\nI'm alone. It wasn't a national effort, it was a series of personal experiences. Only those who saw it can understand what we did, what we were. The most important event my life will ever see, and I can't explain it to any one. I'm not afraid of judgement, mind. It's just.. I could spill my soul to you, bleed for it, but I could never help you understand. I'm not wired like you are, anymore. And not having the words, not being understood.. God, it's worse, cause I can't hate you for it.\n\nSo I can't sleep and when I do I dream of that fucking desert. There's nothing to hope for. I've seen everything a person was blown out the back of their head; one through the running lights.\n\nThe cheap bastards at the VA wouldn't even give me the full diagnosis. I have no idea what I'm doing anymore. It will all end and not how long you lasted or what you did will matter. What am I living for anymore, I can't escape, it's all so pointless now, just give me an out that won't hurt my family too much.. Let me end it fighting for something worth what we paid, please God. ",
"Yeah, big whup. I'm all alone in a cold, unfeeling universe. Quite the revelation, that. Let me know when every fairy-tale is true.\n\nThere's no hope left? Who had hope to begin with?\n\nI was walking home from the liquor store. I'd bought cigarettes and cheap red wine to get me through the night.\n\nI saw a pile of fluff against a brick wall that I almost stepped on. But then a really crunchy leaf caught my eye and I stepped on it instead. \n\nIt burst softly under my weight. I enjoyed the sensation for a step.\n\nI looked back at the fluff that I'd avoided. I saw, then, that it wasn't trash at all, but a small bird who had fallen out of its mother's nest.\n\nThe bird was tiny, and its broken neck was all wrong. This little creature should be flying, not spread ignobly on the pavement. Ants were already swarming around it.\n\nI thought of a girl I'd once loved, and felt very sad. I didn't bury it, the bird, but when I got home, I started to cry. I found my way to my bed, and stretched out. \n\nI thought about the little bird for a long time, and couldn't sleep.\n\nBut after awhile, I did.",
"There in the young boy's hospital room, nothing but the gentle humming and whirring of the medical equipment was heard. Nothing moved asides from the nurses who came in to clean and tidy things up. Not much had changed and not much happened in that room, but inside the boy's head an entire world occurred.\n\nI look to my left and to my right and see nothing but this building I memorized long ago. I have memorized every crevice and every hallway. Never have I seen another one of myself though. I always wonder if I just haven't recognized anybody because I don't know what I am exactly. Whatever I am though, I always feel like something is missing.\n\n\"What is missing?\", I ask myself. I have never been able to answer this question. I always wonder what is missing from this place I roam. \n\nI can't stand it. I have to leave. I have to do something. I have to find somebody like me. I rush towards the clear entrance and try to go but I can't. They're stuck for some reason. I stand there and look at the doors. \"Why? Why, why, why?! Why am I...am I...\", as I say this I hear something.\n\nI rush to the sound with fright, joy, and curiosity all flowing through me at once! I turn the corner and I see them. They look like me but they aren't like me. They have long hair and appear to have wrinkled skin. \"Who are you?\", I carefully ask. \"It doesn't matter, it's time for you too leave. You've been cooped up here for long enough, so take my hand and I'll let you out.\", she says.\n\nI can leave? The entrance won't be stuck? I can leave this place I roam? It sounds too good to be true. Then again though, if they're telling the truth, what could be beyond this place? I take her hand and she smiles. I can't describe the feeling, the familiarity I feel. We walk towards the entrance and when she pushes, they open. I take a step outside and enter the light. All the while, in the quiet hospital room, the nurse tidying up hears the heart rate moniter flatline."
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Sometimes it's good to think outside the box.
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[WP] You are a stick.
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[
"*creeeeeeeaaak*\n\nwarm out today.\n\nBird nest still here.\n\nCute squirrel on branch.\n\nCute squirrel brought friend.\n\n*creak creak creak* squirrel is sex other squirrel.\n\nBig bird coming.\n\nBig bird coming fast.\n\n*CRASH snap sheeeewwwww thump* \n\nBig bird break branch!\n\nBranch in pain! \n\nHelp branch!\n\n...\n\nWhy nothing help branch!\n\n...\n\nSkin tree coming to save branch!\n\n*Crack*\n\nHe... Broke... Branch into... Stick.\n\nFeel sad.\n\nSkin demon grabbing stick.\n\nSkin demon stacking stick with other stick.\n\nWhy it putting dead tree fur under stick.\n\nSkin demon make fire to dead tree fur.\n\nStick feeling hot.\n\nStick burning! \n\nStick don't want to die!\n\nFire too hot!\n\nAir hot in stick!\n\nToo much!\n\nAhhhhhhhhh *pop - crackle*\n\n....\n\n\"Dude, I told you building a fire is easy!\"\n\n\"Shut up stupid you used a lighter.\"\n\n\n\n",
"I still remember the sunlight on my leaves, the tickling scurry of insects across my rough bark. I still dream of those days.\n\nThe days before I was cut so rudely from my tree, crafted and whittled, carved and drilled, and stuffed with a endlessly burning flame that ignited my soul.\n\nAnd then there was an eternity of darkness, time passing wrapped in velvet softness, the slow sigh of dust settling like winters snow.\n\nMadness crept around the edge of my slow thoughts like a hungry wolf, snapping and slathering with lolling red tongue as I struggled to understand my purpose.\n\nBrilliance! Wonderful blinding, beautiful light! Oh, maybe to feel the sky again, the caress of the wind! To sway gently... Wait...\n\nSomething is different. I know this. I've waited for this. I understand everything now.\n\nI know my purpose.\n\nAnd now I listen intently to the sounds that surround me, understanding them, filled with righteous fury and focus.\n\n\"...It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother--why, its brother gave you that scar.\"",
"It's been daylight for hours. I'm fucking ready. \n\nI was born in the night. In the night from my mother I was borne *SNAP* as something tore me from her *SNAP* and in tearing me *SNAP* I became separate \nI became whole \nWith myself \nIn my own right \nAre you proud of me mother? \nAre you proud of me brothers? \nBrothers! \nOf whom I had no thought before, had no thought of my own, my thoughts belonged to us all to my mother I was a piece a part of a branch of the great tree that now stands o'er me from which I fell *THUNK* in the night and now it's daylight!\n\nAnd I'm fucking ready. \n\nThis is the hour. This is the day. The moment. The rush. I can feel it in my fibres. And here they come! The people, yes the people playing in the park with their pets and their panting to pick me! Pick me up!\n\nI can see one. Across the green. Over there. There he is he's got a dog *WOOF* it says *WOOF*. Come on! Come closer you BASTARD and take me! Grab me! Hold me! Throw me!\n\nYes! I soar in his grasp as he lifts me he LIFTS me from the ground from the dirt from my brothers *ha!* look at them *ha!* they're still on the floor folorn on the lawn that's what I'd call them. I'm not them I'm \n\nRising, air below me in the comfort of his grasp and now his arm pulls back and now and now and NOW I FLY!\n\nI FLY! I FLY! I see the world! The passers-by! I pierce the wind! I pierce the air! Like nature's bullet I dare to dare! Look at me mother are you proud of me now? \n\nAnd now I fall. Still shooting like a star from the earth to the sky. And there I hear a *WOOF*, it's a-coming! I see it's teeth. Saliva *drip* saliva *drip*. The teeth, the jaw, I'm destined for. Seize me, as I seize the day!"
] | 3 |
[WP] A man opens up a fully functional Apple store in the middle of medieval Europe.
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[
"\"Apples! get your apples here!\" the man called out to the cobbled streets that were filled with potential customers. \"We have Macintosh, Granny Smith, Golden Delicious, You name it we've got it!\". Bob, the apple store's owner, had a smile on his face despite the turmoil going on in his head. He knew his dream of opening an apple store was failing, and unless he could sell enough apples he would have to sell the store. This wouldn't work though. Standing outside and shouting at people to buy apples just like on every other day wouldn't work. He needed a miracle. \n\n\"A miracle, you say?\" a voice spoke from behind him. Startled, Bob the apple salesman turned around to see an enormous black cat standing on its two back legs and leaning on the wooden front door to his shop. \"Don't look so shocked\" the voice started again, \"I may be able to help you with this, um, miracle\". \n\n\"Who are... what? \" Bob croaked\n\n\"Who I am is of no matter\" the cat replied \"What matters is if you want to do business. I would be willing to pay you a hefty sum for those apples.\" Bob look around to see if everyone else on the street was as shocked to see this cat as he was, but nobody else seemed to notice it. The cat continued, \"You see, I am here from out of town, and I have been told that you sell some of the best apples in Europe\". \n\n\"....Well I try and pick good apples\" Bob was slightly shocked (because of hog-sized talking cat in front of him and) since he had never heard anyone complement his apples like this before.\n\n\"I will buy all of the apples, if you would like\" Bob knew that that amount of money would allow him to continue his dream of selling apples and give some extra spending money. \n\n\"Yes, thank god, that would be a dream come true\" Bob was disbelieving but hopeful. The cat held out his paw for Bob to shake, and Bob immediately complied. The cat made a wide toothy grin and vanished into thin air. Bob stood in his place for a minute or so pondering what had just occurred. He convinced himself that a witch must have been playing tricks on him, but when he walked back into the store his jaw dropped in disbelief. The apples were all gone from inside the store, and on the wooden floor sat a huge pile of Anglo-Saxon pounds. Bob let a joyful tear run down his cheek for a few seconds before wiping it away. Bob ran over to the pile of money and put several handfuls of it in his pocket. Bob knew the first thing he was going to buy: some spices. This would be the first luxury item Bob had ever possessed. Bob locked the door to his shop, and then walked with an un-surpressed smile on his face towards the only spice store in town. He walked in and announced: \"I would like to buy 1/8 of a pound of cinnamon\". He would be eating like a king. The storekeeper carefully measured out the correct amount of cinnamon and read out the price. Bob reached in his pocket to pull out the money, but his smile quickly turned into a look of horror as he realized it was gone. Bob stood there, puzzled, for a minute before the storekeeper began to look frustrated. Bob turned and ran out of the store and back down the street to his apple store. Bob quickly unlocked and opened the door and bolted inside. The apples were still gone, but now the money was too. Bob frantically looked around the building for the money but to no avail. He sank to his knees and let out a cry.\n\nWhat the fuck?"
] | 1 |
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[WP] A wall has been erected overnight, surrounding the town. People are dying.
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"One month ago today, The Wall went up. No one knew why, and no one could find a way through the enormous mass of concrete. \n \nAt first, it was chaos. Phones didn't work, and the internet was out. Everyone wanted out, and they wanted out *immediately*. There was rioting all through the town. Fires broke out. People died. Eventually, the police were able to stop the riots. A meeting was called in the town hall that night, and everyone was invited. \n \nWe shouldn't have held it at night. We didn't know. \n \nOnly about a hundred or so people stayed home that night. The rest ended up going to the meeting. \n \nNobody made it home that night. \n \nCome morning, almost no one could tell what had happened to nearly everyone in the town. Of the hundred remaining, you could count those who had actually gone outside that night and lived on one hand. I was one of them. \n \nI don't know why, but when They took my mother, she hadn't been able to scream. She'd certainly tried; she was pounding and clawing at the locked door, her mouth wide open, but with no sound escaping. I opened the door just in time to see her dragged off into the dark. \n \nThe others who'd gone out said the same thing. Loved ones silently dragged off, never to be seen again. \n \nBut that was the first week. Those who survived, adapted. Theories on what had happened were thin at best. Eventually, we stopped trying to explain it. Why bother? Knowing why They did it shouldn't stop Them from taking you if you were still outside after dark. Besides, scary as They are, you can work around Them. Don't go out at night, and you're safe. \n \nIt's harder to work around starvation. \n \nIf anyone reads this, please understand why I'm doing what I'm doing. It hurts too much. I can't keep going without eating. Tonight, when the sun goes down, I'm going to wait outside. Maybe, if good luck even still exists, I'll see my mother wherever They bring me. ",
"Terrence leaned against a building and withdrew a small bag with his favourite blend from an inner pocket. He packed his pipe and lit it. He caught the stem between his teeth and considered his next move.\nThe wall had been erected two nights before. Kneehigh and made of some sort of porous, sandy material, it wasn't really an intimidating structure.\n\nCorpses were lining the streets because of the plague that had swept through the town and the council had raised the wall and decreed that everyone must stay in their homes. For their own safety ofcourse. The council had always been in charge, and everyone did as they were told.\nLately though, many decisions had been strange, he thought.\nThe Purge, the executions and now the Quarantine. No information had been released regarding the events that had led to the death of so many. Terrence had found himself doubting the wisdom of the council often for some time.\n\"Guess I can't put it off any longer..\" He said to noone in particular. He stepped over the wall before his determination left him.\n\nLooking over his shoulder, he saw nothing but the deserted streets of his hometown. As Terrence took his twentieth step, he began coughing. He fell to his knees and instantly knew he should have listened to the council. Barely able to move, he clawed his way back towards the wall. After what felt like minutes of coughing and crawling, he reached the wall and pulled himself over.\nHe curled up in a ball as a massive fit of coughing took control of his body. No air reached his lungs as he shambled down the street. Everything seemed to go black. The world spun around him. He didn't even register the pain when his teeth connected with the pavement.\nHis body joined the others in the street. The others who didn't listen to the council.",
"He took another drag of his cigarette. He knew it would be the last one he'd have for a while, but despite this fact, enjoyed it rather insignificantly. He kicked the dirt by his feet, projecting a small pebble -- about the size of a penny, certainly not larger than a nickel -- to the base of the wall. The pebble disappeared in a sea of gray concrete, fortified with steel and wiring atop the miles long barrier of health.\n\nThe people living in the town contained within were well aware of the disease -- indeed, as was the entire world -- though none care to speak of it. The wall, which quite literally appeared overnight, was proof of their suffering; each mile built another painstaking revelation that their lives were to be confined within this abyss of horror, each gunshot a reminder that someone was attempting to cross the wall into a freedom that would never come. Their lives were medieval, consisting of just enough grain and water to progress through a day before retiring to their small cabins where each member of the town lied awake for hours hoping that they would not be the next to open their eyes in the morning with the deep, guttural cough that indicated death was but three days away.\n\nHe dropped his cigarette into the dirt and stepped on it with the gentleness of a breeze. He exhaled his last puff of smoke, the buzz not nearly enough to nullify his feelings of uncertainty, and walked back to his cabin. He stepped in, kicking his shoes off at the door, as his daughter ran up and embraced his right leg.\n\n\"Daddy, the walls are scary,\" she replied, as had every child of every man who had laboriously constructed the wall the evening before.\n\n\"It's okay, baby. The walls protect us. They can't get us if we're in here.\"\n\n\n(Author's note: hope it's clear, but I tried to make the reader assume the walls were meant to keep the sick townspeople IN, but rather the healthy townspeople constructed the wall themselves in order to keep the sickened others out.)",
"Those who live by the wall are the lowest caste. Historically, towns have been built with a cruel design. If a town were ever to be under siege or assaulted the walls would be first to receive a bombardment. Whores, slaves, and the sick were also housed against the walls of a city. The undesirables would feel the first sting of sword, arrow, catapult, and fire. If their enemies were forced to wade through a sea of the most hated citizens, it might slow them down enough to give the worthless corpses a purpose.\n\nNext would be the workers and merchants. Necessary, but not irreplaceable. Masons, carpenters, potters, bakers, servants, and even artists lived here. They were skilled workers, but lambs for slaughter. Unlike the lowest caste, these citizens would expect to be protected. And they might if the nobles thought the dead would inconvenience their luxuries. Parties cannot be held without food, and homes cannot be built without stone. The workers are tolerated, because they are useful.\n\nThe next ring would be the soldiers. Enjoying some of the kindnesses of the wealthy lords they serve, the soldiers are respected, but barely. Like the workers and artists, they are useful the the high born, offering protection and security. But they are not noble. They are useful weapons. And should the enemies of this city ever require more slaughter after the unclean and the working class districts, the warriors will protect the social elite, just beyond their homes and barracks.\n\nAnd finally we have arrived at the center of town. Gold statues of the gods meet white marble streets. Women stand nearly naked in doorways to immense homes. Wine and food is plentiful, and restraint is absent. The nobles and the priests live at the center of these rings. There is no want unmet here. Men and women fornicate on sheets of silk while their children learn the high arts. Diseases and famine have touched every other district in this city many times, but never in the central neighborhoods. This system has kept the hierarchy in tact for hundreds of years. There have been rumors of revolt, even a few cases of violence, but the nobles always have the gold and soldiers to end uprisings quickly. But they should heed the rumors with more sincerity. They should have made concessions instead of empty promises. \n\nIn one night, a whole city of whores, slaves, workers, artists and slaves turned to the center of their town with malice and rage in the heart. Thousands of men and women come together, with tools in hand. That summer night, while the nobles drank and fucked too much to notice the noise outside, a wall was built around the elite. The rage of an entire city formed a wall higher than even the largest houses around the district. There were no doors. No windows. No drains. A circle of smooth stone encased the nobles in a massive tomb.\n\nThe first day the nobles were outraged. They screamed and yelled and cursed the lowers for challenging the kindness of the upper class. With fists and statues they rammed the walls. But their fists were covered in weak flesh and gold was too heavy for their arms. The sick who had been expelled to the farthest rings of the city took to the tops of the walls. They looked down at the red faced nobles. Hundreds had died last night in the outer districts because medicine was denied to the pour. To the horror of the wealthy families and clergy, the outcasts began to throw the corpses of those denied medicine into the center district. Boils, blood, and rotten flesh rolled down the walls. The stink was incredible and the summer sun would not yield its heat.\n\nNext day there were fewer screams and this time the screams were for mercy. Shit and corpses covered the once clean marble streets. Now the workers took to the walls. Bakers threw poisoned bread. Potters unleashed shards of broken ceramics. Masons hurled razor sharp stones. Every worker rained the tools of their bondage down on the heads. The streets now were coated with a sea of blood as well. They did not take to the streets in protest. Cowering in fear, they did not leave their homes.\n\nThird day and there were no screams of rage or help. The few who still lived simply languished in disease and blood. They fell were they stood often, and did not move again. It was a golden paradise covered in crimson and excrement. Finally the soldiers took to the walls. With spears and arrows of fire they ended their torments. Curtains of flames arched high, arching down into the once magnificent homes. The few who still lived did not die quickly, but found turned to ash before nightfall.\n\nThat night, all who remained in the city swore to be free people. Never knowing the sting of corruption again under the privileged few. The central district burned the night sky red well into the next morning.\n\nOn day four there were no sounds from behind the new wall.",
"\"Listen to me.\" The child heard it in the dark. The voice was shaking, but very stern. \"When I tell you 'now', close your eyes, and grab mommy's hand. Can you do that?\" The child nodded. The voice directed itself to another. \"Mary, hand me the gun.\" There was a whimper. \"Mary, you have to hand me the gun.\" \n\nOutside, the child could hear a door bust down. There was talking and laughing and stomping around. He heard muffles and stomps, and it sounded like fun. But the last thing he heard was \"Give me the goddamn gun.\" \n\n\"Here, here... I'm sorry.\" Mary said, and the child heard the gun being exchanged. \"Where are we going to go?\" Asked Mary, in fear. \n\n\"The streets are being looted, and there are riots everywhere. We can blend in, but if we can make it to your dad's house, we can get to his plane.\"\n\n\"That's on the other side of the city.\"\n\n\"Mary, we don't have a fucking choice now please... When we go out there, you have to keep moving. Keep a hold of me.\"\n\n\"Okay,\" she said in a whisper. The voices were closer. The child heard a large crash. He heard the gun being loaded, and then a hand enclose is. \"Don't worry, dear. We can do it.\" The woman said to him. He heard the man stand up. \n\n\"NOW, SON!\" He yelled. The door was kicked open. There were four men in his parent's bed room. Lights were out, but the room went off with the firing of the gun. The child saw a man being torn apart, and he shut his eyes. He heard his mother scream.\n\n\"FUCK, MAN! Shoot the fucker!\" More bullets were going off, his hand was tight around his mother's, who was still screaming. He was then dragged, eyes closed, forward into the chaos. He felt his shoulder bump against something and knew it was a wall. \n\n\"Open your eyes, son!\" He heard the man yell. He did, and he was in his hallway. He looked back as his father fired off more shots into the rooms. He turned towards his mother, who yelled \"Down the stairs! Down the stairs!\" She picked up the child and ran down the stairs.\n\n\"JIM!\" She yelled at the bottom, as Jim blew another man away. The firing stopped, but outside the child could hear the roars and yells of crowds. He looked out his window, and saw nothing but red. Jim stormed down the stairs, and kicked the door open into the night. \n\nThere were thousands of people, wearing gas masks and bandanas, holding guns and bombs, yelling and screaming, moving in one way, down the street to the left, to a goal the child did not know. There were buildings on fire, and the sky was full of smoke and destruction.\n\nHovering about the family, in the black smoke, were giant blimps, with spot lights casting onto the multitude. \n\n\"Disperse, or we will open fire!\" A voice came from the blimp. Some people were firing at it, some yelling, but their goal seemed to be against whatever was to the left. \n\n\"Jim! Jim!\" A man screamed from in the crowd. It was a fatter man, a man the child recognized from when his father was cooking hamburgers, or having his adult drinks. \n\n\"What the fuck is going on, man? What the shit is this?!\" There were people in the crowds yelling \"TEAR DOWN THE FUCKING WALL!\" and \"WE DON'T KNOW WHERE IT IS!\" \n\n\"They uh... They uh.. They built this wall, Jim. This-this huge fucking wall, right outside of town!\" \n\n\"Who did?!\" \n\nThe man pointed up to the blimps that were yelling: \"you know have thirty seconds to reply!\" \n\n\"Jesus Christ, why?!\" Jim was asking, as Mary began to cry.\n\n\"I-I don't know, man. But I've got to go! Sara's in that shit!\"\n\n\"15 seconds to reply!\" \n\nThere was suddenly a scream, loud and strong, that shut everyone in the crowd up. They stopped moving, and looked up in the sky, confused. It was not a human scream. \n\n\"Mary, take the kid's hand.\" Jim whispered. \n\nFor a split second, the spot lights of the blimp went out, then came back on. The streets flashed dark for a moment until back to being illuminated by the lights. The child knew that it was a shadow. \n\nThere was an explosion in the sky, and several screams in the crowd. One of the blimps had gone up in flames, and the people began to panic. \n\nThe child did not know who fired first, but as the creature descended into the crowd, both the blimps and the civilians directed fire at it. The child's ears hurt, and the only thing he knew to do was to shut his eyes and grab his mother's hand. \n\nBut he could not find it, so instead, he ran. "
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[WP] There is an old man at the retirement home where you work that always seems to be carrying an old coffee can with him. One day, you decide to ask him about its contents, and the answer is something you never could have guessed.
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"I was here visiting my father some odd years ago when some old guy with a can of sorts walked around the corner. Coffee can, I guessed, some brand that died out long before that guy turned old.\n\nPop told me about him a few times. No one talked to him and he didn't talk to anyone else. Just shuffled around all day with that can, stopping every so often to look at it. The old folks swore he sighed at the thing.\n\nSure enough, the old man stopped and looked at the can. He doesn't quite sigh -- could collapse a lung by the way he looked -- but there's no mistaking the sadness there. But it gets me wondering, you know? Why would a coffee can do that for anyone? Maybe he's carrying his wife's ashes or something, I didn't know. But Pop was still in the shower, so I figured, hey, why not ask him what's up?\n\nHe doesn't look like he can hear me at first, so I ask again. He looks up and frowns.\n\n\"My can?\"\n\nYeah.\n\n\"I think it's for the best you don't know.\"\n\nI laughed. It's a fucking can, I said. What the hell is so scary about that? Some Lovecraftian monster in there?\n\nThe old man shook his head, a bit of a laugh creeping out.\n\n\"I found it the first day my kids put me here. It was just sitting in my room. I asked about, was told it belonged to the last person there.\"\n\nWhy didn't the family take it?\n\n\"It's cursed.\"\n\nA cursed coffee can? Well, I nearly lost it. What, did it turn the owner's morning coffee decaffeinated?\n\n\"I've seen you here before.\" The old man said. \"Well, you want to know? Here.\"\n\nThe old man handed me the can. I looked at him and he just gestured me to open it. Inside was a piece of folded up paper. I took it out and read it.\n\nRoom 15 -- Shower -- 1:29 \n\nPop's room? But the old man was gone.\n\nI walked back into my father's room to tell him about the incident. The shower was running, so I called out loud to him.\n\nNothing.\n\nI called again.\n\nThat time, I opened the door to check on him.\n\nThe report said he slipped in the shower and more than likely hit his head. They placed his time of death around 1:30. So close.\n\nI never did see that old man again. Every day, I check that can. Some days, there's nothing but a blank piece of paper. More often, there it is. Room number. Location. Time.\n\nI checked it this morning. My room. My bed. About damn time.",
"Mr. Rathers looked constipated. He always looked constipated. His lips curled downwards and his brows furrowed inwards.\n\n“Why isn’t Matlock on TV today?” he demanded.\n\nA nurse tried to get him to watch whatever show was airing instead, but Rathers wasn’t having it.\n\n“Don’t you talk down to me, woman,” he shouted, “I want Matlock!”\n\n“I’m sorry,” the nurse said, “There’s no Matlock on Saturdays.”\n\nRathers stood up angrily and pushed his walker towards the window.\n\n“Fine,” he said, “If you’re willing to give up so easily, then why don’t you just give up.”\n\nThe nurse left the room in embarrassed silence.\n\nRathers looked out the window. Something caught his eye and his brows relaxed. He even smiled a little. He leaned down on his walker, pressing its tennis-ball feet deep into the retirement home’s carpet. There was an empty coffee can in his walker’s front basket. The can was empty.\n\nRathers looked into the can, and his face lit up. He looked around the room with an expression like a child stealing cookies. He saw me and smiled. He had always been friendly to me for some reason. I like to think that it’s because I’m a good cook.\n\n “Mr. Rathers,” I said, “Do you need a new coffee can? That one’s empty.”\n\nRathers gave a belly-laugh. “This can isn’t empty,” he said. He threw the walker to the ground and executed a perfect pirouette in his house slippers.\n\nAnd then he bellowed, “Let’s go dancing young man!” and grabbed me by the soul to drag me into the coffee can. A world that smelled like colors and tasted like rain passed us by. We whirled and twirled with our spirits high. \n\nAnd in that can an ocean raged. The waves were crystal clear—a thousand fathoms deep. Great Kraken wrestled with giant Squid, and octopi hoed gardens. Treasure chests lay still, weeping gold into the sand.\n\nWe danced on the deck of a warlike ship. The Japanese flied Zeroes overhead. Boom Bang Boom, the big guns kept the time. Rathers grabbed a gun, and for me, harmonica. We played our tunes and shot our bangs and sang a hearty song. And then the sky fell on a bomb and boom! We flew!\n\nThe birds were cheerful, Gods were nice, and Pterodactyls pleasant. Rathers liked the clouds. We reached for stars and made them cars and drove them to the moon.\n\nBut then the clock began its knock, striking twelve times for noon. “We must leave, take a reprieve, I have to cook the lunch!”\n\nRathers looked disapprovingly at me. \n\n“Fine,” he said, and followed me out of the coffee can. \n\n“You see,” Mr. Rathers said to me, “A coffee can is never empty.” His face returned to its usual grumpy-old-man look. “And I don’t need any new things, dagnabbit!”\n",
"Stretched out far and wide in every direction, perched atop rolling acres of deep green checkered lawn sits the home where I work. Black topped and always trimmed neatly at the edges, the winding driveway leads all who enter through a forest and across a babbling brook before it circles at the entrance and returns into itself. Never are we to use the term \"home\" or \"nursing\", here these terms are forbidden. No, what we provide is assistance and companionship to all the wonderful and wrinkled seniors living in our pristine and cozy retirement community.\n\nToday I was sitting on the bench by the windows of one of the great rooms. Outside was a larger than life cherry blossom tree in full bloom. The sun shone into the clearing where it lived and rays of gold cast a palpable aura around it. Even the breeze softly caressed it, dislodging the occasional blossom and sending it fluttering into the grass. Resting and soaking up the warmth my eyes would periodically close and I day dreamed as I waited for Gerald.\n\n*sluch, clink, sluch*\n\nNever could he be an effective prowler. Stealth mode was not Gerald's strong suit, in fact it wasn't even in his limited vocabulary. Three kind words were all that I'd ever heard escape from his half paralysed lips; \"Good\", \"Thank you\" and \"Sorry\", truly fitting of his genuine and gentle character. Despite his limited vocalizations Gerry spoke volumes about whatever he felt. He smiled, he clapped, he was animated more so than anyone I'd ever known, let alone a senior of our community.\n\nThe familiar clinking of his can ratlling down the hall awoke me from my daze and I stretched as he rounded the corner into the room. He tapped his cane twice as he often does and let it fall to the floor with a *snap*. Striking a ridiculous pose he grinned ear to ear and waved jazz hands at me frantically. Wrinkles formed by decades of laughter made themselves known at the corners of his shining green eyes. I rose and smiled at him as we intercepted at the gorgeous and oversized comfy white sofa in the middle of the room.\n\n\"Good morning Gerry.\"\n\nHe scowled at me.\n\n\"Ugh, GERALD!\"\n\nHe smiled and clapped. I laughed.\n\nThe Gerry can, as we called it, was a Foldgers tin of 1970's vintage that Gerald paraded around with him every where he went. Clinking and clacking, it's contents were a mystery. Strangely he'd never been willing to open it. Today he seemed to have a mischievous look about him and as we sat and giggled, he placed the tin on the table and slid it over to me.\n\n\"Um, ok...\"\n\nHe smiled and gestured a hand at me, flopped and waving as if to say \"open it\".\n\n\"Really?\" I eyed him suspiciously.\n\nHe retreated back into the sofa and nodded, a slightly more somber but still happy look overcame his face, acceptance maybe? Anxiety? He fiddled with his fingers as I cocked my head and looked him straight in the eyes.\n\n\"Are you sure? I mean I'm honored, really I am.\"\n\nHe smiled with greater certainty and a distinct sadness now, flapping both hands at me as if to say \"Do it, get it over with!\"\n\nI fingered the ridges of the tin and took in the authentic, red and yellow imagery adorning the front. My hand slipped over and slowly rotated the top, to and fro, gently coaxing it away from the container it had guarded for so long. I held the can out in front of me and before looking inside I again glanced at Gerald for confirmation. He was grinning wildly now, ear to ear. You'd never know this man had suffered major strokes.\n\nReluctantly I tipped the can to face me and withdrew a folded note. It read:\n\n> *Are you happy now?*\n\n> *Turn these in.*\n\n> *Missing person case number 194832.*\n\nMy face blanked and I felt sick. I turned to face Gerry again. He now bore the trademark, sadistic smile of a madman. I peered inside the Gerry can.\n\nThree teeth. Baby teeth.\n\n\"Good\"."
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[WP] Story of a burnt story.
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"I knelt by the fireplace and the ran the ashes through my fingers. The spine of the book had survived; golden letters of the word ‘diary’ were visible beneath the crust of black.\n\nShe said she would be alright. She said she would be alright, and then she had gone and done this. I shook my head in a fog of disbelief.\n\nWe met in a bookshop, surrounded by stories. In a true romantic cliché, we were reaching for the same book. She giggled, happy, full of life. I smiled, said she should take the book. She said she’d let me borrow it sometime. My smile grew wider.\n\nThe first time she cancelled, I didn’t think much of it. She wasn’t feeling too well. It happens. The second time, I sensed the deep guilt behind her stumbling apology. Maybe I was looking at the world through grey tinted glasses, but I saw the signs and decided to act.\n\nPreviously, she had called it off after days of thinking about it, so I took a different tack. I drove to her house and rang the doorbell. She answered the door in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Ink stained her fingers.\n\n“Feel free to tell me to bugger off,” I said to her wide eyes, “And I won’t bother you again. But I was wondering how you feel about laser quest.”\n\n“What, now?”\n\n“Right now, if you like.”\n\nShe wavered on the threshold. Maybe I’d overdone it, created too much pressure. Then a decision washed over her and she smiled.\n\n“Ok.”\n\nWe had fun, racing through those dark corridors, shooting anyone who got in our way. Neon lights coloured her grin as she pulled the trigger. She was the top scorer. I was practically last.\n\nThen, we were in a restaurant, talking over slices of pizza. The words flitted and darted and danced between us as freely as the birds. But then I got up to use the bathroom and when I returned, a dull mask had slipped over her face.\n\n“This has been fun but, I need to, I should go.”\n\nThe words forced themselves from her. She stood up, her chair scraping across the floor. I took the plunge.\n\n “I know what it’s like.”\n\nShe stopped, eyes fixed on me, silent.\n\n“I know I can’t make it go away, I can’t just fix it. But I also know how easy it is to drive people away, because they can’t understand and because you can’t explain. I do understand. So if you need to talk to someone, if you’re having a bad day, please, call me. Or email me, or come to my house, or whatever. I’ll be there for you, if you want me.”\n\nA tear ran down her cheek. She nodded, once, and hurried away.\n\nAnd she did call me.\n\n“I feel… sad,” was all she said, the last word sounding like it had has to squeeze through a prison fence to escape her mouth.\n\nI raced to her house, and held her as she cried on the floor, a bottle of sleeping pills beside her, mercifully full. There was a diary too, discarded on the carpet.\n\n Later, knowing I shouldn’t, I opened it.\n\n*…numb. I just feel numb. I don’t care enough about anything for it to hold my attention. I tried to work and I just sat staring at the screen, I tried to read and my mind wandered away after a few sentences. Watching sitcoms is the only thing I seem to do, endless repeats of laughs that aren’t really funny, they just pass the time…*\n\nGuiltily, I flicked to the end, wanting to see what she said about me. There was nothing.\n\n“I’m sorry, I looked at your diary,” I said to her.\n\n“Well, I suppose I did just leave it lying there.”\n\n“There was nothing about me.”\n\n“No, I only write about the bad things. To get it out, you know.”\n\nThat was the start of it. Sometimes it was wonderful, a kaleidoscope of anecdotes and joy. Other times it wasn’t; grey days of breakfast in bed and needy cuddles, gladly given.\n\nI never looked in the diary again, but I always knew when she had been writing. She never left it in the same place. I think she wanted me to know when that story continued, even when she couldn’t bring herself to talk. As time went by, the diary moved less and less. It began to gather dust. \n\nThen one cold day I went to the shops. I was beset by a flat tyre, and returned home in darkness.\n\nThe fire I had left burning in the grate had gone out. She was lying beside it, utterly still. The remains of the diary were visible. I knelt by the fireplace and the ran the ashes through my fingers.\n\nThen I looked down at her and smiled.\n\n“Why did you burn it?”\n\n“I don’t need it anymore, I have you.”\n\nMy smile grew wider. I picked her up and she giggled sleepily. My heart sang in harmony with the sound. \n\nAs I carried her up to bed, ashes scattered in the draught from the door.\n\nThat story was over.\n",
"from fireplace to chimney. the air is cold and i rise like dancing fingers into the sky. there are clouds further up, shall i fly to them? \n\nlife has never been so colourful. the orange of flame, black and grey of ash, blue, white, grey, green, suddenly a flash of red and blue and bright green! \n\nno restrictions here in this open place. no eyes forever scrutinizing! lovely. *lovely*. \n\ni shall float and spin forever - let the wind carry me where it will. \n"
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[WP] The captain always goes down with the star ship.
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"*This is it.* \n\n\nThe last of the surviving crew had jettisoned. The flagship of the victorious Coalition was in ruins, it would take at least two weeks for the survivors to get a rescue ship out here. In less than half that time, the oxygen would run out. Luckily for the captain, they left the armory untouched, if he so desired. It was just him, his baby, and his thoughts. *Why were they fighting? We won.* The Gren Collective had formally surrendered, marking the end of the first intergalactic war. *There have always been holdouts. Every major war.* Why should an intergalactic war be any different? *Besides, who knows if their communications even worked out here, ours barely do. Well, did. If only we had been able to get into contact with them. Even if they did not believe the surrender, they could’ve taken us under watch until they heard about it. Instead, they all died, and I’m here, alone.*\n\n\n*I’m not even a military captain, I purposefully avoided the war. I don’t like fighting. The only “combat” I’ve ever encountered was a tiny group of pirates who surrendered almost immediately after coming under fire. But why did they have me pilot this, the best ship in the entire fleet? I’m one of the best commercial captains in the Coalition Galaxies, but I have no idea what to do under fire. If the cargo was as high priority as they said, they should’ve left someone else in charge.*\n\nI*t’s funny, we humans have the entire universe to ourselves, and yet we still have that desire to own it all. We just love conflict I suppose. Or maybe we don’t. Maybe some of use just lust for power, and quenching that thirst tends to cause conflict.* Things were great for nearly a millennium, the Spectrum Coalition and the Gren Collective existed peacefully at worst, symbiotically at best. The Coalition specialized in creating new technologies, while the Grens focused on the production and applications of such technologies and as a result, the Coalition tended to be better off, its citizens especially so.\n\n\nThings started to go downhill not even a year before the war. Coalition scientists had created robotic “super soldiers” which were no longer cost prohibitive, the key factor which had kept them from mass production. The problem lied in the fact that the Coalition would have overrides for the soldiers, even if the Grens would purchase and employ them for their own army. The citizens were upset, but the leaders, including the president, were behind the implementation of the soldiers. A little grease from the Coalition never hurt anyone. Then the “terrorist attacks” came factories were bombed (sometimes by the workers themselves), a few made their way to Coalition soil and carried out a few, though that method became ineffective after immigration and travel between the two was made nigh impossible. \n\tThis angst gave rise to the People’s Party which swept the following Gren elections, headed by a young, hot headed, yet charismatic president. Sweeping changes were made. Gren factories were no longer allowed to produce anything for the Coalition, funding was diverted from all aspects into the training of scientists and innovations of new technologies. Then, out of nowhere, an agreement was made, the Coalition would get the production back, and the Gren would have access to the overrides.\n\n\nThe ceremonial signing did not go as planned. Things got heated, the Gren leader pulled out a gun, Coalition bodyguards dispatched him, Gren’s retaliated, leaving both alliances without their heads. This power vacuum, no matter how brief it might have been, allowed for the generals of both sides to assume control over their respective governments, leading to an all-out war, which left the universe in shambles.\n\n\n*I try to avoid war at all costs, and even when it no longer exists, it still finds me.* \n\n\n*I might as well see what kind of cargo I’m carrying, I’ll be dead before any repercussions can find me.* In the hold, the valuable cargo sits adorned with labels announcing “WARNING” and “CLASSIFIED” and “DANGER” as if that would actually stop anyone. Taking a plasma cutter from the workshop, the captain removes the case around the cargo revealing what appears to be a massive bomb. \nThe attached paperwork confirmed that yes, it was a bomb. One destined for the capital of the Gren Collective, a Trojan horse. It had more than enough firepower to wipe the entire planet off the map.\n\n\n*There’s only one thing to do* the captain thought\n\n\n\n\n####This was the first story I've written in probably 4 years. Any constructive criticism is very welcome. It's late and I went way off on a tangent, I know.",
"\"The Captain always goes down with the ship\" I mumbled. A pretty old idiom. Firstly responsible, last off.\n\nMy mind flashed back to the thoughts of steam powered iron hulks, parting the waves across the open oceans of ancient Earth. Men in their crisp uniforms, bravely saluting from the bridge as they plummet into the icy blue depths. Cold water forcing the life from their lungs.\n\n\n*Hah*. While the sentiment behind it may have changed, the tradition is alive and well these days. If for completely practical and unchivalrous reasons that is.\n\nReflecting on all this wasn't really getting me anywhere, but when you're strapped into your command centre on a dying ship it turns out you have a lot of time to think.\n\nYour survival instinct really does kick in when faced with imminent peril, fine and dandy when dressed in a loincloth fleeing a mammoth, but less useful trapped in a metal hulk drifting through some giant hydrogen filled nebula. Especially when the contributions you make to it's successful operation are limited to selecting destinations & picking the playlist for the journey. Automation makes interstellar travel possible. It also makes human interaction, maintenance included, redundant.\nAnd as a consequence, it makes any attempts by a ships Captain to rectify a catastrophic failure futile at best.\n\n\nIt turns out your fight or flight response doesn't really like this. Your primitive lizard brain screams at you to do something. Claw at the panels. Beat your fists on the star-drive hatch. Stalk the maintenance corridors looking for some....tool...that will magically start the power systems back up & save the day.\nAction! Action now! It's still screaming at the back of my skull.\n\nI guess it's competing with the suddenly very reflective portion of my brain, pondering all this noble sentiment of going down with the ship. Picturing me, saluting in a crisp uniform from my command console as I tumble endlessly into the opaque ionised gas. My lungs eventually deprived of oxygen, like so many of those countless sailors before me.\n\nIt takes all my will not to go for the escape pod. That little box of false-hope. Ejected out into the nebula I'd cook. No formative-shielding on it to prevent me meeting the 10,000 degrees Celsius outside, currently being kept at bay by the fastidious work of those fabrication-bots back on IO's shipyard all those years ago.\n\nEven if I did have a shot of surviving the temperature and the deadly radiation outside, the odds of anyone picking up the distress beacon would be infinitesimal.\n\nAnd, I tell myself, what would I do if I *was* rescued? What would Lea do? Flee the Guild? Pick up everything we own, cash in our trade-bonds at the local pawn store and live a life on the run, fugitives from the Guild's debt collectors?\n\n*Hah*. I allow myself a little chuckle, gallows humour if you will. The nonsense idea of ever coming out the other side of owing the Guild the cost of an Interstellar Transport.\n\nNo, the death-in-service clause of the Guild contract & my own life insurance would mean Lea gets to attend a no expense spared funeral, commiserations from the local Guild Commandant in person. Fat credit chips in his fat hands to be thrust upon my grieving widow. Assurances accompanied with a knowing nod that anything she needs is only a contact away.\n\nHell, she even get's the value of my cargo *commission free*, even if they never salvage this hulk.\n\n\nDamn. Things don't look too bad for her in the long run. Once she get's over my hideous lonely death, suffocating in the inky grasp of interstellar space that is. I wonder if she'll remarry...she'd best be on the lookout for those scabs and parasites in the solar-yacht club. They'll be all over her and her money within days I'm sure. \nBloody leeches. I'll haunt their nights with my radiation boiled space ghost if they so much as sniff in her direction...\n\n*beep*\n\n\nAbout seven hours of o2 left. \n\n\n\nI caught myself tapping on the display graph, as if that would magically make the software projected needle correct itself to more.\nThat lizard part of my brain again I would have to imagine.\n\n\nMaybe I will go take a quick pass through the maintenance corridors. Just in case...",
"*The Captain always goes down with the starship*. \n\nThat's the price, y'see. The Order warned me that this would happen. Just as they warned me about the inevitable flood of memories that'll start when the reality sinks in. But that's just words. They pass on dry facts, not the raw impact of the situation.\n\nRight now, I can feel the passengers abandoning ship. They don't know anything more than what the Order stewards are telling them. Mechanical malfunction, ship in distress, get to the lifeboats. Yes, another cruiser is nearby. Yes, rescue is on the way. No, you cannot go back to your cabin.\n\nIt's true, that mechanical malfunction. From a certain point of view. Ahh, there's a reason we love those movies.\n\n*Solar Glory* and I are old, old friends. Older than most of our passengers realize. I was barely nineteen when I stowed away on that first liner. I thought I was so smart. I did the calculations and figured out that no-one ever went to the lower decks, or if they did, they spent so little time there that they obviously didn't search it. So therefore, I reasoned, I could hide out in there and hitch a free starship ride.\n\nHah. There's a reason no-one goes to the lower decks. Well, almost no-one. That's where you find out the truth about the starships. I found out in a dimly-lit bay when the newly created organo-metallic lifeform latched onto me as its Captain.\n\nThey're alive. All of them. All seven hundred and thirty-two Starships that ply the lanes between the Colonies. People think they're machines, and the plans available on the info-nets are full of impressive technological calculations. They're a source of pride for Humanity - We Made This. Except we didn't.\n\nIt's all a front. The Order keeps it secret. They were dying - hunted almost to extinction by the aggressive Pannach. They found us, and we hid them. We hid them well. We gave them metal shells. We ensured they would never travel alone. We built an interstellar trade network and lied to a trillion people, all to keep them safe.\n\nBut biological machines age. We creak, we groan, we break. We die.\n\nThree hundred years ago, I didn't know that. All I knew was that my clever hiding place in the ductwork was discovered and there was an alien *something* that could peer into my mind. \n\n*<Joy, Joy. Happiness. Eager.>* \n*<Yeah, we were kid, weren't we? Took us a bit to understand each other.>* \n*<Rueful Acknowledgement>*\n\nI ran from an alien being that I could almost feel breathing down my neck. Every time I stopped, I could sense it was behind me. I could hear it in my mind. I was a sobbing wreck when the Order finally found me, and I was ashamed of it. Later on, I found out that was a typical reaction to a Bonding.\n\nThe Master of the Chapter gave me a dressing-down and then inducted me into their ranks as a Captain. When the ships are born, there is an instant bond between the newborn and a nearby human. But they're terrible at telling people apart, and I just happened to be crawling through a duct that put me closer than the Order representative they had groomed for the position.\n\nThat's how I became Captain of a Starship. Every voyage, the kids inevitably ask me how. I tell them it's hard work and long hours at the Academy. But really it's a matter of being in the right place and the right time.\n\n*<Nervous Anticipation. Query: Sorrow/Anger?>* \n*<I am happy for you,* Solar Glory*, I really am. Old memories. We get emotional over them a lot.>*\n\nThree hundred years of the universe's best friend. *Glory* is the one confidant - the one person in the entire cosmos whom I could tell anything and everything. A mate who not only knows how you think, but can see you thinking. \nWe've shipped so many families around the galaxy - from newlyweds to elderly couples. I've never married another human myself, but I...I can relate to their descriptions of a soulmate. Of a being who you know is always there for you, and you will be always there for them. \n\nThere was that lovely pair from the Procyon Habitats who were on a retirement cruise. *Glory* and I spent an hour listening as they told me of their years together. I must have let recognition show on my face, and at the end of the talk, the wife told me I was very lucky to have someone I obviously loved so deeply.\n\nThat soaring splendor of true commitment is what I feel with *Solar Glory* every day.\n\nEven today. *Especially today*\n\nThe star Cygnus-55 burns brightly ahead of us. We're going to impact in another sixteen hours. *Glory* has shut down her engines for the final time. Her heart has given it's final beat, the biological mechanism fallen prey to the malfunction called Old Age.\n\nWe won't be sun-skimming like the early Adrenaline Tours days. No basking like our time under the colors of Solar Vacations. We're going to hit it. Both of us. Together.\n\nIt'll be fast and clean. There'll be no betraying corpse for the Pannach to find. \n\nSixteen hours is a long time, even at the end of three hundred years. I should easily have enough time to stroll on down to the launch bay on Deck Five and take the last shuttle off. But I can't. That's the price. I cannot physically leave the ship.\n\n*Glory* and I are neurally intertwined. I leave her, and we both shut down. IF I'm not brought back on board within twelve hours, then the damage is permanent, and we both die. Not that I want to anyway. There is no way I would ever want to miss this exact moment.\n\n*<Attention, Attention. Look!>* \n\nI flip up the screens to show a dark cavern in our lower decks. The Order is there, and their chosen is standing in front of the Child-Pod. The new Captain looks nervous. She's got the shaven head of a new recruit, and the tattoos betray her as someone much like I was - a runaway that no-one would miss.\n\nThe pod splits open, and the silvery mass of a newborn ship tumbles out. It's about the size of a large dog right now - a vaguely slug-like thing. The Order is already attaching the nutrient packs as the new Captain sinks to her knees and begins weeping.\n\nThe bond has been made, and through *Glory* I can feel the whispered edges of the newborn child's eager conversation with it's new partner. I smile to an empty Command Deck, and *Glory* gives a pleasurable twitch.\n\nForewarned, I'm able to switch the view fast enough to watch a rich-list passenger cease arguing with an Order steward and make a beeline for the closest lifepod as the ship quakes around him.\n\nI can both see the Cygnus Navy ship coming alongside, as well as sense it's metallic hull. *Thackeron* is its name, and *Glory* relays our sincere thanks as it extends a boarding tube to take the Child and its Captain aboard. They'll spend the next few decades growing before the final shell is fitted, and the fleet will \"build\" another Starship.\n\n*Thackeron* moves away, precious cargo aboard, and I feel the final wrench as the last pod leaves. Everybody bar one is now away. It'll take the Order another carefully scripted twenty hours to \"discover\" that I never made it a lifepod.\n\nBut that's OK. There's nowhere else I can be....and nowhere else I want to be.\n\nAfter all, the Captain always goes down with the Starship.\n\n\n"
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[WP]In 2016 the US has elected reddit as acting president.
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[
"\"As per the temporary dress code that will be enacted over the next few days, Lord Neckbeard of KittenBoob in the District of Clowndown, the representative from President will make a brief speech regarding the state of emergency.\"\n\n---\n\n\n\"My fellow Redditors. We have emerged as a state of uncivilized people largely attributed to the unequal opinions of those on the internet. Therefore, all political regimes underneath the fascist authoritarian politburo of democratic means will be thrown out. Press A to talk!\"\n\n\n\"In other words, President Reddit will be renaming states to given subreddit categories. Effective immediately.\"\n\n\n\"The District of Washington, from where I speak will be hereby be known as /r/politics. Florida will become /r/nsfw, and Washington State be renamed as /r/trees. There was some debate whether Colorado should take the honor of /r/trees, however President Reddit has made the matter into hand.\"\n\n\n\"As for the Senate, it will be moderated by the moderators of /r/politics. God have mercy on their soul.\"\n\n\n\"One other announcement to be made regarding states. Texas will be renamed /r/wtf, as a majority of the world views Texas in such a manner.\"\n\n\n\"More to follow after this break showing Emma Stone petting a kitten while placing herself in compromising positions.\"",
"Social Media Site \"Reddit\" Elected POTUS by Electoral College, Not Popular Vote.- CNN Breaking News 11/20/16\n\nUN Worried About Election of Reddit Acting President- Reuters 11/26/16\n\nReddit Usership Hits Fifty Million, Americans Clamber for \"True Direct Democracy.\"- USA Today 11/28/16\n\nRedditors Decry New Members After Presidential Election- CNN 11/28/16\n\nAtlanta Area Redditor Kills Eight Over \"Usurping the True Reddit.\"- Atlanta Journal Constitution 11/31/16\n\nHas The USA Been Usurped By Student Revolutionaries? It's Like Paris 1968 All Over Again- Many Blondes on Fox News\n\nHas America Finally Been Ushered Into A Hyper-Progressive Sweden-esque Society?- Salon 12/3/16\n\nPM Cameron Will Not Accept Reddit as Pres- Telegraph 12/6/16\n\nCameron, Merkel, Renzi Threaten End to NATO, Citing \"Lack of American Perspective.\"- Der Spiegel 12/8/16\n\n72% of Americans Find Reddit Too Extreme On Religion, Foreign Policy, and Economics- ABC News Australia 12/10/16\n\n89% of Non-Redditors Feel \"Uncomfortable\" Over Specific Reddit Policies- New York Times 12/16/16\n\nOklahoma Threatens Secession Over Reddit Led Guaranteed Minimum Income Bill- LA Times 12/17/16\n\nChuck Hagel: \"Reddit cannot be the true President.\"- Wall Street Journal 12/21/16\n\nThe True Generation Gap: The Lack of Age Diversity on Reddit- Fox News 12/23/16\n\nReddit Sworn In With Cat Pic Festival- Le Monde 1/20/17\n\nReddit announces \"Congressional Purge\" on /r/politics- BBC World Service 1/23/16\n\nCongress Murdered In Cold Blood!!!-New York Post 1/29/17\n\nArmy Units Go Missing From Fort Bragg, Fort Benning, Other Military Installations.- Al Jazeera Breaking News 2/4/17\n\nUS Army Spokesman: \"Reddit Can Never Represent All of America.\"-CNN Breaking News 2/4/17\n\nReddit Servers Down: Army Takes Washington By Storm- MSNBC Breaking News 2/4/17\n\nProminent Redditors Disappear From Homes, US Military Announces Coup- Xinhua Daily- 2/4/17\n\nAmerican Streets Bathe In Blood As Military Purges Citizens- RT 2/5/17\n\n2000 Redditors Dead Nationwide, Rest on Perpetual Net Surveillance- CBC 2/6/17\n\nArmy Announces Emergency 2018 Election As The Nation Grieves For the Dead.- TIME 2/10/17\n\n11 Ways This Child Literally Can't Even Deal With the Military Junta- BuzzFeed 2/11/24",
"The corporations thought they had outsmarted us. They spent years lobbying and gaming the system to stack the deck against the common man. They believed that they had it all sorted out. I guess their greatest coup was the Supreme Court. By its very nature, the long con had to be on in order to get the right people in place at just the right time and no opportunity could be missed. First came Citizen's United, then Hobby Lobby, they were very close to garnering all the protections they would need in order to be immune against the stupid consumer. The sheep would finally be powerless and they would be in full control. Too bad we had better ideas.\n\nThe initial idea was first tossed around as a running gag in various threads. Reddit: Hope for 2016. Like any meme we thought it would ebb and flow in popularity and soon fall to the back of Reddit's collective consciousness as tends to be their fate. Something happened however that no one was expecting. Some of the Law subreddit's began hosting serious discussions about the feasibility of a \"Reddit Campaign.\" I truly believe at first it was just intended to be an exercise in law and hopefully generate some meaningful discussion but as they began to dig into the matter it started to get traction.\n\nThe foundations that corporations had been laying for years with various court rulings had solidified the idea of a corporate entity as a 'person.' They had religious rights and could donate ad nausea to campaigns, so why couldn't they run for office? The technical terminology being thrown around was a tad bit above my head but so long as the majority of Reddit's servers were located in the United States at a physical address and the company was registered here as well, the criteria for citizenship seemed to be met. The post highlighting the exact next steps to take went down as the largest, longest running post in reddit history.\n\nThe first ad appeared on The Colbert Show to raucous applause. Between Colbert and Stewart, the Reddit campaign had a very real mouth piece in the public domain. No matter how much the mass media tried to keep us down, the ratings being generated by the sheer audacity of the community was too good to pass up. Soon CNN started \"The Reddit Referendum: 2016\" which ran continuously, 24 hours a day. Individual user's posts were dissected with a remarkable degree of scrutiny on national television. It was really something to behold.\n\nThen came the debates. Man, you should have seen the debates. Imagine people as knowledgeable as Unidan in each of their specific sub-specialities being able to chime in and respond to the questions being put forth by the moderator. It brought a tear to my eye. The other folks on the stage looks like they had an elementary education on the matters being discussed while Reddit was masterful. Eloquent and understandable, how couldn't the masses love us.\n\nThe legal attacks started shortly afterward. I think they thought it was a fun distraction at first, but now we were a threat. They threw the kitchen sink at Reddit. They began throttling its speeds, submitting copyright infringement claims against nearly all the content, and targeting individual redditors for things as inane as unpaid parking tickets. It got really crazy around this time, but to the community's credit, everyone tried to support everyone else.\n\nThe night of the election I couldn't sleep. I had voted earlier in the day. I was having some problems with the touch screen of the Voting Machine but when I saw the big black box with \"Reddit - Independent\" flash on the screen I couldn't stop smiling. It was actually happening. The news coverage was pandemonium. Every sensationalist headline you could imagine was flying around the tickers. Like usual, each station wanted to be the first to call a state so there were some early scares on the east coast. New Jersey was almost called immediately for one of the competitors and my heart almost sank into my feet. Nearly 30 eternal seconds later the same anchor chimed back in that he had been premature and the 30% of precincts which were reporting seemed to be heavily concentrated in non-Reddit strongholds. The data coming from other precincts seemed to be experiencing some data delays. Go figure.\n\nBy 10pm EST Reddit had swept the East Coast. I was in euphoria. We did it! We actually did it. We used their stupid rules against them and had beat them at their own game. When all was said and done we had only lost four states. It was truly a dominant display and in one evening the entire political landscape of the United States had been re-written. \n\nNow we just had one question...who was going to put their hand on the bible at the swearing in?\n\n\n\n",
"I sat there, euphoric. Reddit as president, we did it. I had to wonder what the site itself looked like now.\n\n\"M'country,\" I said to myself, stroking my neckbeard while www.reddit.com loaded.\n\nThe page reads \"Due to our new position in the U.S. government, the standard website is permanently disabled. All existing accounts have been deleted, and each citizen will be granted a single new account.\"\n\nOne link existed on the page. I clicked. *discontinuity*\n\nLight. Applause. A mouth opens. \n\n#We are /u/karmanaut\n",
"I sat in stunned silence. The tv had just announced Reddit was the new POTUS. As in President of the United States. Turning off the tv, I checked reddit instead. Front page. /r/pics \"The new US President\" pic of r/pics. /r/writingprompts \"Our term as President six months from now.\" /r/askscience \"Mod Announcement: We will not be setting US science policy, any questions about policy will be deleted and the poster will be banned.\" /r/circlejerk \"We did it reddit. We got this guy elected President.\" Pic of Ron Paul.\n\n*Fuck this.* I finished off Mountain Dew and headed off to bed.\n\n___\n\nThe next morning I went to log in to reddit. \"We're sorry but all user accounts have been banned.\" *What?* I went to check the news. Everything on /r/news was from last night. /r/worldnews was the same. Coming to my senses I checked /r/announcements. \"Since Reddit will now be responsible for setting US policy all users are temporarily banned.\" Opening the post it explained how they were going to implement a system to determine the citizenship of all users, and ensure every citizen was only allowed one politically active account. *Huh.*\n\n__\n\n\"Once again the hacker group Anonymous is taking credit for having hacked voting machines around the country. A user claiming to be speaking for the group said 'We wanted to prove that the voting machines were broken, and also ruin reddit because reddit sucked. Eat it.\"\n\n*Fuck you too kid, you probably weren't even involved.* I sighed. I had been putting off finding a new site to bullshit around on for a few days but reddit was pretty dead now. Most users had reacted poorly to the implementation of a check of your Social Security Number. I typed in the first thing that came to mind.\n\n4chan.org"
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All interpretations are welcome
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[WP] Mankind's greatest predator thrives not in the shadows, but in plain sight.
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"“They are horrible creatures aren't they,” came a voice just off my elbow.\n\nI merely nod and run my hands along the wooden fence I am leaning against, careful to avoid splinters or, Powers that be, far worse. He continues, not even bothering to adjust his glamour so that I can see him. Impudent human loving kobold, I scoff mentally. Thieving scoundrel, I laugh more jokingly.\n “….Caught in constant war strife and struggle” he stops for the moment as the giant piece of human machinery they call a bus drives by belching smoke. When it passes and our coughs subside he continues speaking.\n\n“Ughh Nastier than a dragon’s arse-hole, not that I’d know a’course.”\n\nI laugh at my low-blood ally. “Better than its front, I would think that being devoured is not exactly pleasant.”\n\nHe coughs again and leans closer to me. He then waggles an eyebrow at me “If ya believe the stories, I hear some humans are into that.”\n\n For a moment I consider rebuffing my servant for his gall at slipping into the positively profane, but I decide against it. We are too few now to make enemies among ourselves.\n\n“You have the dust” he asks suddenly, surprisingly all business.\nI say nothing but toss him the two bags of powder hidden under my cloak prepared by a spell-caster so ancient she remembers snakes in Ireland. The bags are wrapped up nicely in sheepskin to avoid the magic leaking so not to wake the trees into a drunken stupor.\n\n“Well now, that’s a start” he then pulls his glamour over himself and fades into the concrete as if he was never there. Perhaps I will dance in the ring tonight I ponder but shrug my shoulders to decide against it. Instead I wait for a moment and watch the last vestiges of sunlight fade over the horizon. Here I wonder not how but when we will lose this world to the iron mongers. My hands twitch and I pull the bottle of ale from my cloak.\n\n“To hope,” I toast and drink deeply. “To hope.”\n",
"The alarm clock went off. *BEEP BEEP BEEP.* Shaddap, I was trying to get some sleep! I turned it off and looked at the clock. *3:00PM,* it said. Jeez, I wish I could say that was a new record, but it wasn't even close! \n\nLet's see, I was out at the Phillies' game until 11, we went out drinking and hit on some hot Spanish broads until 2AM, but I didn't remember what happened to the rest of the time. I was most likely black-out drunk.\n\nI took a look around my 'beautiful' digs. Just kidding it's a pig-sty! I sleep on a fold out bed with no sheets. There are crumbs and cockroaches everywhere! Oh, well. It's better than moving back in with the folks!\n\nI turned on the TV. I wanted to catch some of that *Duck Dynasty*, I love that show. The news was on about some serial killer or something. What do I care about that garbage? Just give me reality TV, sports, and weather. That's the golden TV trifecta, amiright?\n\nI showered and dressed, but I still smelled like the backside of a horse! There was no time for another run through, I had to get to Mamma's house for her 80th birthday party. She's one hell of a lady. I put on my best three-button suit for this one! I got it from my cousin Johnny down on Walnut Street for half price. Best deal I ever got!\n\nMy sky blue 1991 Ford Taurus barely got me over there. Hell, it can barely carry me, I weight 300 pounds. I'm too much man for it! Also, it barely works, it doesn't even get me to work and back for god's sake, I have to push it home most days.\n\nMamma was there waiting for me. Oh she was real pissed. She started hitting me! \"Why are you so late? You're holding up the party! Did you see the news about the 'green butcher?'\" She went on and on and *on* with that stuff, get it outta here!\n\nI told her I was busy and I show up when I show up because that's how real men do things. Then she tells me my father wasn't like that. Are you *kidding* me, ma?! My father? Are you really gonna throw dad in my face right now? Does she even remember that he missed *my* baseball games every year for four years while he was in the clink? Of course she doesn't!\n\nAnd enough about the green butcher already! She always makes such a big deal about nothing. I told her a million times her house is safe. She hasn't been broken into once in thirty-five years, but she always wants to get another lock or a new alarm. I told her worrying so much is gonna give her an ulcer!\n\nBut I digress. Anyway, the party turned out great. Mamma had some cake, Bill and Susie showed up from New York, everyone got a bit shitty, it was perfect. \n\nSo I went home to watch the Phillies game that night, and they aren't even on. This 'butcher' shit was on every channel! What is with the morbid curiosity of some folks? Jeez, I can't even watch the Phils without some fancy basic cable package! What the hell was going on? I shut off the TV. Whatever, at least I was going to the game tomorrow night. What are the gonna do? Turn off the stadium lights to stop me?\n\nThe next night I went to the game with Carly. Everyone's always telling me to date this girl, date that girl. Enough already! All I need to know is if they like the Phils or not. If they don't, then they're outta here! \n\nAnyway, she looked nervous the whole night. I tried to put my arm around her during *America the Beautiful* but she wasn't having any of that. I finally got her to have a beer, but then she didn't want to pay for it! More for me, I guess. \n\nWe were halfway through the 8th Inning when I notice Utley looking like he's lost in space or something. He was looking straight into the crowd like some large-breasted woman just popped her top. So I yell at him, I go: *Hey Utley! Look alive out there!* And then he just turns and books it toward the club house, in the middle of the game! \n\nWhat the hell, Utley. I mean Howard, I could understand. I could tell Carly was just as upset as me about it, she wasn't even in her seat anymore. So I look around and everyone starts to freak out like Utley. People were climbing over seats, they were like animals I tell ya. I felt like I was at the zoo or some shit!\n\nThen I saw it. The big green blur moving through the stands. \n\n*THE PHANATIC*\n\nHe was tearing through the place like it was swiss cheese. I couldn't believe it with my own eyes. He was chopping them up with a butcher knife, it was a mess. Lots of blood everywhere.\n\nThe guy in the suit was like 8 feet tall, it was rediculous! He was eating people in their seats through that god damn gaping mouth-hole of his. Luckily I was safe over on the other side of the stadium. I decided maybe this was the best time to go home. \n\nI was dead wrong. The traffic was unbelieveable! I'm in bumper to bumper in my shit-mobile in front of Citizen's Bank Park. Who woulda thunk it! First of all, I never leave Phillies games early because they always have a chance to win. Second thing was I couldn't find Carly anywhere, who knows what happened to that broad. And C, I had less than a quarter tank and that traffic didn't move once in an hour. The balls on these other drivers huh? It's called a straight line, jackasses!\n\n***\n\n\"So, is that everything you know? You were the only one to survive the incident that night and we have no security camera footage\", the cop mentioned sternly.\n\n\"Huh? Yeah, that's all I saw. I really hope he didn't get Utley. That guys is by far the best player on the Phils. We need him healthy! Also, I bet you had no TV footage because of all that damn butcher coverage. They didn't show the game yesterday either!\" The cop ignored him.\n\n\"So you are telling me the *Phillie Phanatic* is responsible for the largest killing spree in the history of this country?\", the officer asked, now getting pissed off.\n\n\"Yeah. Do you have any donuts? I heard you guys really like those little donut holes. Ya know the kind? With the jelly already in there? I'm starving. Also, you look like you could use a new suit. My cousin Johnny got me half off on this beautiful three-button suit. I could get him to make you the same deal, if you want.\"\n\n\"That's alright,\" the officer said. \"Instead, we are charging you with filing a false police report and obstruction of justice. Take him away, boys.\" Two officers grab the man's wrists and cuff him and begin to take him down the hall to the cells.\n\n\"What are you doing!? I'm telling the truth I swear! Well I only got a glimpse of him! Wait! My Mamma knows more, she watches this stuff on TV all the time! She could help you! Me, I like action movies and reality TV, but she watches crime shows all day long. I heard that stuff can really rot your brain!\" the man yelled down the hallway as he was being dragged off. \"I'm just letting you know my brother Paul is the best lawyer in the state of PA, and you'll be sorry when you have to face him in court! Literally, he's a pizza-faced bastard, that one!\" The officers finally get the man to his cell and leave him there. They walk away as briskly as they can.\n\n***\n\nBehind the police station lurked something supremely unnatural. It wasn't a man or an animal. It rummaged through the dumpster with a mitt on its right hand and a butcher knife in its left. It didn't matter what it was doing now, because it only struck in plain sight.\n\nThe lights from the station helped display its rather large nose onto the street. It deftly slipped out of sight and soon it would be well out of mind of the good people of Philadelphia. \n\nThe cop opened the back door to have a cigarette and marvel at the nutjobs that come to file police reports sometimes. He heard loud rustling from behind him. He pulled out his gun and spun around, but nothing was there. Suddenly, he felt stainless steel against his neck and green fuzz against his face. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n",
"The chair creaked as Phil sat down, mouth already watering at the feast that he had laid out before him. He ordered the food on his table from several different restaurants, so as to not raise suspicion at the sheer amount of food he wanted-- if he were to order that many burgers, that many fries, that many shakes and drinks from one single restaurant, then what would the workers think? They'd think he's fat. He had to be careful.\n\nAs he moved to pick up his first burger of the middle of the day, the flesh dangling from his arm knocked a large cup of Coke off the table, and it landed on the floor, spilling open. \n\n\"Oh, shit, perfect timing,\" Phil groaned inwardly. He heaved himself up out of the chair, which barely contained the quaking mountain of a man, and walked over to his paper towel dispenser, dangling over the kitchen sink. He pulled a sheaf of sheets off and slowly meandered back over to the site of the spill. Slowly, he leaned down, struggling to get near enough to the ground to clean it up. After some effort, he finally managed to wipe up what liquid had leaked out, and picked up the drink and put it back on the table, a bit further in.\n\nHe sat back down, shoving himself hard into the chair in order to fit. With the grin of a kid who had been given five dollars and sent to a candy shop, he picked up the same burger he had originally set his eye on, and lifted it to his mouth. As he moved it closer and closer to his face, he started feeling a bit nauseous. His head started pounding, and he felt shooting pains in his arms. \n\n\"What the...,\" was all that Phil had time to say before he collapsed forward and died, slumped over with his face buried in a mound of fast food.\n\nDeath saw it all, and pulled his ledger from a pocket hidden somewhere on his cloak. With a single scratch of his quill, he marked Phil's name off and sighed. \n\n\"Another day, another heart attack. When will these people learn that heart problems are no laughing matter?\"",
"It is the silence that deafens the world.\n\n It prays on our most vulnerable. On the sick, the poor, the homeless, the stateless.\n It prays on those who are ravaged by war, and those who are stricken by illness and poverty.\n\n It is our most deadly killer, and yet it is we who keep it strong. We feed it with our words. We spread it through our media. Day by day, year by year it grows louder and louder, stronger and stronger. And to top it off, the very thing that is killing us is the very thing that keeps it alive.\n\n\nMankinds greatest predator is apathy.",
"The sunlight warmed my limbs, as each swayed carefully in the breeze. I watched the humans race around my feet, squealing in delight as they'd catch each other. They'd take turns leaning on me, speaking in their weird language, laughing. Closing their eyes, and quietly speaking. Slowly, their numbers dwindled away as the heat from the sun dissipated into the coolness of the night, the breeze ripping through the limbs.\n\nEventually only a few would walk pass my brothers and I, until lastly their was only one. A young male, talking loudly on a box. The wind carried my battle cry over to my family, \"Him.\" Patiently, I watched the male walk underneath my limbs, \"Yes. Him.\" They cried, \"Let us feed!\" They wailed, the wind whipped our limbs around.\n\nI whipped my many limbs around him, the groaned and croaked as I rammed my leaves into his throat, his eyes wide in terror and arms thrashing as he struggled to breath, I ripped off his many parts and tosses them to my family, each dragging their pieces hungrily into their agape holes. We mashed the bones and the flesh in our bodies and chuckled to ourselves awaiting a new meal in a little bit.\n\n\"Hugh...\" Our elder whispered, \"That's an incredibly dangerous method. We're bound to be caught...\" His voice carried to me through the breeze, \"Elder. They have no idea.\" I replied arrogantly, stretching my limbs back into place. \"Hugh...Control them next time, if they find us they will destroy us. Tear our limbs down, and set them alight. We are bigger, but they are faster. They can never know!\" He cried, his leaves ruffling in anger. \"You shall see, elder. In the light they will never suspect us.\" I mumbled and waited for daylight to break.\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nI looked around the park, amazed at the blood everywhere. \"How did they do this?\" I asked to the rookie walking with me. Carefully stepping over loose pieces of skin, and shards of bone. \"Honestly Sir, I have no idea. This seems like a repeat offense. I'm beginning to wonder if perhaps we may have a-\" He began. I scowled at my coffee, \"Don't say it, Rookie. I just don't see how the trees get covered so high up.\" I trailed off staring at the great maples surrounding us. \"I don't see why people even come through here, every 4 weeks there's a death and dismemberment but we can't find anything!\" The rookie looked around uneasily, \"I don't know Sir, I really don't. I've heard of cases like this internationally. Maybe it's a cult...\"He sipped his coffee quietly, as we took in the massacre before us.\n\"Maybe, Jones. Maybe.\""
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[WP] Massachusetts has announced that for the first time in centuries, a young woman will be burned at the stake for witchcraft. What is the public's reaction?
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[
"I had to see. \n\n\"The facts are undeniable. The charges cannot be debated.\" said the Governor on TV. \"A clear and eminent public menace that needs to be eradicated\" said the Mayor of Boston. \n\nBut I had to see. For myself. \n\nI had heard stories out of Great Barington. Bizarre stories that don't come from an aging hippie town in the Berkshires. Honestly it sounded like some horrible creepypasta that had gotten out of control. It's happened before. \n\nSo I went to go see her burn. \n\nA stake had been hastily erected outside of the old castle that had been imported from England or Swabia-whatever if that's even a real place, surrounding a fire pit ten feet in diameter. The Chamber of Commerce had to reappropriate money from the Local Farmer's Market budget. A crowd of retirees, amateur rock climbers, and vacationers from New York City had gathered, looking confused. Nobody wasn't sure what to talk about, so there was some general small talk. Some people exchanged business cards. \n\nFrom the Castle came a small, balding, nervous looking man in a white shirt, khaki pants, and an apple-tree tie. It was probably the tie he was planning to wear to the Farmer's Markets. Dark stains of sweat blotched the tie giving him an even more sickly appearance. \n\nThis was Great Barrington's hastily created \"Witchfinder General\"\n\nHe made his way to the microphone stand. And meekly cleared his throat for attention. All voices in the crowd stopped immediately\n\n\"H-hello everyone and welcome to the Great Barrington...witch..s-sorry...\" he stammered, stopping to mop his head with a dainty handkerchief. \n\n\"My name is David Garvy. I'm the Municipal Event Coordinator and newly appointed...Witchfinder General for the Great City of Great Barrington....heh..\" the crowd chuckled weakly. \n\n\"What you're about to see may be...disturbing. So we've asked that small children and the elderly not attend this event. However, I know this is the conclusion of some events that have deeply affected many of us here. So I will leave you to your own decisions.\"\n\nHe took a breath. I saw him clench up. \"Bring her out\"\n\nFrom the castle led by the Sherriff's department she came in a floral print dress, blindfolded by a red and white polka-dot scarf. A young girl who probably just barely had reached puberty, and certainly was not old enough to drive let alone be responsible. \n\nShe cried. \"*I didn't do anything! I didn't do anything! Please let me go I don't know what's going on!*\" \n\nThe Police said nothing as they led her to the stake. The people in the crowd became uncomfortable but said nothing.\n\nThe Police took her blindfold off, revealing pretty green eyes that were hid under messy dark hair. She saw what was in front of her and her eyes grew wide with fear. \n\n\"Oh no. You're going to set me on fire. You can't do that, you can't set me on fire. You can't! That's insane!! YOU CAN'T SET ME ON FIRE!!!!\" \n\nThe crowd said nothing. \n\n**==PLEASE INSERT TAPE 2==**\n\nTAPE 2\n\nShe struggled. But her small frame was hidden by the two police officers who spent little effort in hoisting her into the stake and tying her up with thick, hemp ropes. I recognized them as the kind you get from the outdoor shops in town. \n\nShe sobbed. The crowd remained silent.\n\nWitchfinder Gary took a small piece of paper from his pocket, fumbling around with it. \"OK folks, the witch has been tied up and now it's time to start the...er...trial.\" \n\nThe girl screamed. A loud, ear breaking scream in case someone would realize what they were about to do and save her. \n\nGary took a deep breath and read from the paper, into the microphone. \"Ok...here we go..[ahem] Hear all ye gathered in the name of God\n\nThe girl stopped screaming. Her head dropped down in defeat\n\nGary continued, a little more confidence in his voice. \"Before all ye gathered is a witch. In the name of God reveal yourself!\n\nThe girl looked up. Something in her face was wrong. The fear had been replaced by a dark grin, her pretty green eyes had become small and beady. \n\n\"*by the stinking gape of your mothers, that took you long enough*\n\nGary too began to change. His doughy, office worker face seemed to become hard and wizened. His voice slowly filled with round confidence, the ancient words of the page starting to fall easier on his tongue.\n\nHe continued. \"I command thee, creature, identify yourself before those assembled\"\n\nThe Witch laughed. Someone in the crowd vomited on the spot. \"*By the human tongue I am Grunewilla. And that's all I'll be telling ye, Witchfinder.\" \n\nGary threw a commanding hand at the witch. \"Grunewilla! Servant of the Dark Lord! Why have you returned to trouble our community\n\n\"Why Witchfinder, don't tell me you have forgotten the Game. I am the pawn, made to be sacrificed. I am the little hinge that swings open the gate. You know this.\"\n\n\"BUT SHE'S A CHILD YOU MONSTER!!\" screamed Gary, his voice cracking with emotion\n\n\"*and that's why you'll never win. Because you are afraid to make sacrifices. Today we trade a pawn for a pawn. Tomorrow? Maybe a knight? Or a bishop!!*\" she cackled, and Gary's ears began to bleed. \n\n\"ENOUGH!\" said Gary, in a voice that was no longer his own. \"Foul servant of Satan, I return the into the fires from whence you came!!!\"\n\nHe snatched an unlit torch from a small pile near the stake. It lit the moment it touched his hand like a struck match. Maybe it was an auto-light. Must have been.The microphone had long since been discarded, but it didn't matter. The Witchfinder had come with his tools, and that was all that mattered.\n\n\"I sentence you in the name of God! BURN!\" And he tossed the torch, lighting the pure in a ferocious blaze \n\nAnd the Witch laughed with horrific joy. \"*A pawn for a pawn, mortal! A PAWN FOR A PAWN!!! AHAHAHAAAAAAAAAH!!!!*\n\nAnd she burned. Horrible, choking smoke that could only be described as a cloud of evil came forth, but just as promised she burned. \n\nThe people watched. Some of them cried. But they watched. Gary, back to his normal self, looked older and more tired than ever, stumbled off the stage for a glass of water helpfully provided by one of the police.\n\nDon't believe me? You don't have to. I saw it for myself.\n\n\n\n",
"Lily was always such a good girl\n\nNearly every day after school since the 6th grade we'd walk back home to our apartment block, through snow, sleet, rain, whatever the world could throw at us. I guess we sort of became accustomed to the cold of the earth that way. One month, it will be giving you flowers and fertility , and in the next month it will kill it all away. We'd discussed this many times in our freshman year. Her words blew my pubescent mind sky high. They almost matched her beauty, to me.\n\nWe were only sophomores when we had first made love, on that one cloudy night in February where the subtle orange light of the town resonated against the dark gray clouds. Despite the crisp air biting me all over, it was the warmest night of my life. I remember telling her that she'd thawed my heart entirely. We skipped school the next morning.\n\nThere was never anything \"official\" between us, but I guess it was always more of just a mutual understanding. We never needed to say to each other how we felt, either we already knew or it had slipped out in one way or another.\n\nTime passed, and warmth and freedom had returned to our lives. We spent most of that summer preoccupied with amateur poetry, weekly bonfires with the few other friends we had, and occasional casual sex. I couldn't ask for anything more in my life. But, as usual, the frigid climate had returned for our junior year.\n\nThere was one particularly cold day that year. Early December. Lily had finally dyed her hair a dark crimson, as she'd been planning for months. We were walking back to our apartment building, same route as always, when 3 men in thick sweatshirts had approached us. I only recognized one: William, a devout Christian who had a fling for Lily early of last year. \n\nThey had come for me. One of them put their hand in their back pocket. Lily pushed me a step back and took a step forward. Next thing I knew, the two in the back had drawn their feeble pocket knives. William, on the other, drew his father's revolver. The memory melts from that point on. I remember William saying something along the lines of \"Step aside, love. We're not here for you...not this time\". Lily shoved me back and I stumbled. slipping on a thin layer of ice and landing on my head. Then, a blaze. Intense heat could be felt all over my body. Beaming orange light had stunned me, and when I had regained focus, I looked up at Lily.\n\nFlames, shooting from her hands. They pierced through the bitter air in such a way that left me without breath. Warmth, the only part of my life that had given me hope, displayed in such a violent way. 3 vain teenagers burned alive because of it on that day. I couldn't hear their screams, by then my vision was fading and my hearing was foggy.\n\nI woke up the next morning. Lily had carried me home, I suppose. There was a bandage around my head and a note my desk, addressed for me. The edges of it were singed. It read only read: *Channel 4. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry it lead to this. Forget about it all, like you did with the winters. Please, for your own good, just forget.*\n\nI sprinted out of my room to the television, frantically turning it to the Channel 4 news.\n\n*\"Local high school student Lilith Hathorn was publicly executed the leader of a Christian church last night after the murder of 3 of her fellow students with what some believe to be is \"Pyromancy\". Authorities believe that after burning 3 other classmates alive, she fled to the house of the father of one of her victims and local priest: Father John Cloyce. Cloyce mentioned, when apprehended, that she had begged for his forgiveness for her actions, but instead he had decided to \"follow the work of God\". He then knocked her unconscious, tied her up, and burnt her at the stake in front of his church at about 2:01 AM. Cloyce is currently in police custody and investigations are underway. More on this situa-\"*\n\nThe last bit of warmth had left my body in the form of hot tears, rushing down my cheeks. For the first time in many years, my heart was frozen solid."
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I had this odd thought and would love to see what you talented bastards could do with it! :-)
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[WP] Violent video games are a secret military project intended to create better soldiers, and it's starting to work
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[
"\"JACK!\" Isabella screamed, \"Get off of that damn game or we're through!\" \nI shot 3 terrorists in the head before replying.\n\n\"Baby, stop overreacting.\" I blew up the institute across from my hiding area and heard 2 people die through my headphones and screamed into my mic with excitement.\n\n\"I swear to God Jack, I will leave.\" But she just stood there, \"I'm packed and ready to move out.\" A fly started to buzz around my face and swatted at it, caught it in my palm and threw it towards the window without a second glance. \"Goodbye Jack.\" I heard the door slam and that was it, I was left to my own devices. I sighed in almost disbelief and relief at her leaving. She would never let me go. One more shot got me to the winners circle. I celebrated with a grunt and my fist flying into the air.\n\nBefore I puled my fist back down a cuff was around my wrist. My reflexes reacted quickly as I pulled off my headphones with my free hand, jumped onto my feet onto the bed to gain an advantage in height and spun the perpetrator round with the chain to their neck. They could barely speak and as I looked around I saw several rifles pointed towards me. \n\n\"Jack Cunningham?\" A man in black specs and a suit was speaking, he was the only one unarmed.\n\n\"Yeah, what do you want?\" I moved the guy with the cuffs right in front of me, feeling rather exposed in my boxers and shirt. \n\n\"We're here to recruit you.\"\n\n\"For what?\" My grip tightened on the cuffed guy.\n\n\"The Army of course!\" His arms were splayed like a gymnast who'd just landed a triple somersault.\n\n\"What makes you think I want to join the army?\" The guns started to disappear around the room as my grip lessened on the cuffed guy. The answer to my question was a quick nod towards my still open video game, followed by a hand gesture at my rather dd display of self defense. I quickly let go of the cuffed guy and got him to unlock me before pushing him towards the nearest gunmen. But I stayed where I was.\n\n\"It's just a game.\" I retorted.\n\n\"It's not just a game.\" He seemed agitated, \"It's a training tool.\" I must've looked bewildered because he sighed. \"We sent out violent military based video games to get into contact with and extract soldiers from everyday life to gain a tactical advantage over our enemies.\"\n\n\"So like the Taliban?\" I asked.\n\nHe sighed again, \"Our enemies seem to be closer than that at the moment.\" I crossed my arms, \"Our training regimen backfired and our own boys have started fighting back using our basic commando training.\"\n\n\"What has this got to do with me?\" I pointed at myself, \"I'm just ... me.\" I looked myself up and down, the lanky 21 year old, who couldn't hold down a job or keep a girlfriend.\n\n\"Everything.\" He smiled. A bag was placed over my head and I was restrained. The world was darkness.\n\n((Awesome prompt btw))",
"The plan was stretched over 50 years but it finally began to pay off. First the video game, then the violent video game. They started to get more realistic visually and more accurate in reality. They began fighting terrorists then Russia when they attacked America. VR became the norm and advanced to near realism. Now we introduce a game that changes every time you play it. Different battles, different people to kill each time. Little do they know they control our foot drones and are more effective than any trained soldier could ever be. God help anyone against us. Le' reddit army has arrived....",
"It was suppose to be another few years before practical tests were to be administered but the deadline had just been forced up. A gamer by the name EchoHorizon had been trolling another gamer in counter strike when the gamer had enough. He decided to \"SWAT\" Echo.\n\nThe SWAT team came in expecting the worst. The anonymous tip said that there would be at least five men fully armed manufacturing homemade C4. Echo had no idea what he was in for and neither did the SWAT team.\n\nA team of ten breached the door of the small home in which Echo resided. His headphones were on and he was deep in a mission in Battlefield 4. He didn't even hear them enter. As they rounded the hallway into the living room they saw the back of Echo and approached slowly. Just as they were about to grab him, his character died and the screen of the TV went momentarily black revealing the reflection of the SWAT members behind him. He felt a sudden power come over him as he leaped out of his chair tossing off his headphones.\n\nThe first SWAT member dove at Echo to take him to the ground. Echo caught him mid air by his helmet using his momentum of the dive to swing him around into the wall. Bullets began to fly from the Bullpups as Echo dove behind the couch next to him. The firing stopped as another SWAT member jumped over the couch with his gun aimed right between Echo's eyes. Echo kicked his foot up into the barrel just in time for the shot to graze his skull instead of kill him. \n\nSuddenly Echo performs a move a la Eddy Gordo from Tekken spinning up to his feet. He grabs the SWAT member who just almost killed him and draws the guys pistol out of it's holster while spinning him around to use as a shield. Two quick shots from the pistol take down more of the SWAT team stopping them from pouring out of the hallway. Echo lets go of his human shield as he withdraws the guys knife from the other side of his belt. He slices the sling holding his bullpup and it begins to fall to the floor. Echo throws the knife into the eye of another member breaching the hallway, jumps in the air and with both feet kicks his human shield into the wave of SWAT coming back out of the hall. He hits the ground on his back and quickly picks up the bullpup firing in a sweeping motion towards the hallway. The SWAT starts backing out of the house.\n\nEcho rolls into his kitchen and gets behind the kitchen entryway. He has a perfect view of the front door and the retreat of the rest of the SWAT members. He begins strafing back and forth through the doorway of the kitchen taking down more of the SWAT with burst fire as they flee the house. Suddenly he hears the breaking of glass and sees a grenade flying through the air towards him. He runs towards it, catches it and immediately throws it back out of the window. It flies outside and explodes killing the rest of the SWAT members that had fled back out.\n\nStanding there in the cloud of gun smoke he is huffing and puffing for breath. He slowly looks over at his TV. Forgetting that his live stream was on, he sees his teammates huddled around their screens looking at him in amazement.\n\n\"That was rad!\" one of them exclaims eyes wide with astonishment. ",
"\"He's incredible...\" thinks the drill sergeant as the .50 caliber bullet pierces the bullseye, again.\n\nThe dust swirled about camp that day. It was over 100F the day the new guy arrived. The higher-ups told the drill sergeant this soldier was part of a new special project. Immediately, the drill sergeant was skeptical. He had a reputation for being able to break anyone. Every person from this 'special program' so far never passed the drill sergeant's mental tests. He would push them to the breaking point to see if they if snap, and they always did. \n\nHe was different. It turned out, he performed better under insult and stress. The first day of weapons training began this morning. Sergeant had been told that he was one of the best snipers in his class, but this, this was unbelievable. He had never before, in his 20 years of service, seen a soldier with aim so precise and accurate. The drill sergeant had never thought it was even possible. The higher-up's always talked outta their ass about how good these guys were, not one could actually do it. \n\nThis guy was something else completely. He didn't talk shit like the rest who came before him. He only said one thing. He only lived one thing. He only breathed that one thing.\n\nThe bullet pierces the bullseye again.\n\nOff in the distance, the drill sergeant hears its echo...\n\n\"360 No-Scope MutherFucka!\"\n\nThe drill sergeant chuckled to himself. That soldier, Ghost was his name, was certainly something else."
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from the promptbot in chat!
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[WP] You happen to stumble upon an Ancient Alien-Mech that crashed landed on the Earth a long time ago, It activates.
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[
"The map he found on the golddigger's body turned out to be nothing but a wild goose chase. The text had been indecipherable code so he figured he would find something at the obvious markings.\n\nThe first sensible spot turned out to be nothing but a mountain ghost town - another western boom abandoned within a year. The mines and buildings had been picked clean. \n\nThe second mark took him through the valley and into the desert. Both he and his horse were parched. He nearly spun back around when he saw a white church off in the distance.\n\nLooked like some missionaries wanted to bring some religion to the natives. He arrived around high noon. Again no sign of life. If he couldnt get water he could at least get some shut eye.\n\nHe opened a double door and found a chamber full of opulence. Gold handcrafted saint statues and ornate tapestries. Stain glass embedded with rare jewels. Padded pews made of european woods. Altar full of expensive candles, overlooking countless religious trinkets.\n\nMaybe this was the second map spot. He stepped forward and plucked a jewel from the baby Jesus manger.\n\nA mighty rumble shook the floor. Everything started to shift and adjust. He ran out the doors and turned to watch.\n\nThe church had stood up and turned itself inside out, revealing ostenatious flying buttresses, gold trim, marble, all the catholic trimmings. It took a humanoid shape and seemed to form a face.\n\n\"Take me to the frontierformers They are a threat to all vaticons.\"",
"I was just on a walk. A nice stroll, nothing to crazy. Watching the leaves change color, maybe taking a picture or two of some local wildlife.\n\nI saw a big mound of dirt that hadn't been there before. I decided to investigate, look closer.\n\nI'm an idiot.\n\nA twelve foot tall thing stood in front of me. It almost looked like a battle mech. Attached to its arm was a T rex skull. At least, that's what it looked like. It might have been another dinosaur, like an Allosaurus or, well, my memory failed me when it came to other dinosaurs like that. I saw what I can only describe as its face glance at it, shake it off its arm, and then turn towards me. A red beam laced over my body, then focused on my head before snapping off.\n\n\"Greetings local life form. I certainly hope you are more friendly than the last life form I ran into. I can see by my scan that you are capable of moderately complex communication, and that others of your species are capable of highly complex communication. I....\" it stopped talking as small lights lining edges along its body all came on at once. They were white, then changed to green, blue, light purple, white again, violet, and finally red before turning off. \"Oh dear. I cannot seem to contact my handler. It seems he may have come to some harm in my absence. The amount of time that has elapsed suggests it may even have been mortality. I'm going to need to ask for help with a ride. May I ask if you have access to any class 2 or higher superlight vehicles?\" It picked up its head off the front of its torso where it had rested and held it close to my face.\n\n\"I don't think that's a thing.\"\n\nThe lights turned on again, this time a dim yellow. Slowly they brightened, then turned off, green, cyan, and off again. \"I see. You do have radio communication though. I will have to attempt that. Contact your government then.\"\n\n\"I can't do that.\"\n\nThis time the lights turned on and stayed white for a while. Finally, with them still on, it reattached its head. \"I have accessed what you call the internet. This planet's civilization, oops sorry civilizations, are very aggressive. I suppose its because your world is so resource deprived. If I can contact my people we can help. This sort of thing has been seen before. I have a plan. We will have to meet with the people called Seti. If you will excuse me though, I'd like some time to myself first.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"My handler, the man who programmed me and gave me life, is likely dead for millions of your years, unless I have suffered a critical system failure, in which case I will likely be dead momentarily. Either way, I need to mourn.\" With that, the lights turned off again. \"I can hide quite expertly, if you wish to meet me hear after one solar cy....sorry, excuse me, after one day. I must get used to the local terminology.\"\n\nWith that it shrank down, compressing all his parts into itself. I took that as a dismissal. So now I'm here, packing for a trip to the VLA. As I said, I'm an idiot.",
"I want it, it could be my very own, but more than that, I want not to die.\n\nI run as fast as I can, the 4x4 isn't too far away. All I can think of is a lifetime of stupid software error messages - illegal operation, file deleted, login failed - bad design - cancel button doesn't work, shutdown fails because something won't quit, force quit doesn't quit - and worse, software that works - target acquired, enemy identified, arguments fall on deaf ears. Even if it wasn't damaged it could still kill me by any number of errors. Even if it works perfectly, I bet it won't be designed for human body stress, won't have any human compatible interface, even if I make it my suit it will probably kill me. \n\nI'm in the 4x4 and driving. There's heavy smoke coming from the Mecha-exoskeleton-alien-thing area. I have no idea what powers it - is it capable of space travel, or was it dropped from a ship? The ground is too rough to go fast, but I'm going fast. Was it here to invade, does it know it wasn't attacked, how well armed is it? Could it explode? Is it nuclear?\n\nIt's fucking moving, it's standing it's a shape in the smoke I'm the only thing in the region it's facing me. Why did I try taking panels off it why did I put a megavolt shock tester to it why did I hang around when it started to light up oh God is it pointing?\n\nPlease let me get around behind that hill. \n\nAnd please let the hill be solid enough to make a difference.",
"The biting wind whipping across the permafrost sought out the crack between my gloves and sleeves. “I hate it here,” I muttered.\n\n“Well, next time, Xander,” Sasha said on the radio, “don’t volunteer to assist the professor, *who is a climatologist* study the effects of environmental erosion.”\n\n*Damn, didn’t realize my radio was keyed.* I tugged on my sleeve, trying to cover the gap in my clothing. A popping sound beneath me made me freeze in place. *Oh, shit.* The permafrost gave way, and I was falling into darkness.\n\n---\n\n“Xander! Xander! Can you hear me?” Sasha screamed over the radio.\n\nI groaned and rolled onto my side. “Yeah,” I croaked into the mic.\n\n“Xander! Are you there? We can’t pick up your transponder. If you can hear me, say something!”\n\n“Damn,” I muttered. I sat on my knees and looked around the defile. It was too dark to see anything, and I cracked a chemlight, holding it high as the plastic tube brightened my surroundings. “Fuck, where am I?” My words curled into a fog in the freezing air.\n\nThe sheer sides of the crevice looked like they would offer no purchase if I tried to climb up them. “How far did I fall?” The sky was a dim crack in the distance, but the defile seemed to continue for a distance. “May as well follow it... Maybe there’s a better place to climb out down that way.”\n\nI walked a few feet and caught my foot on something hard, losing my balance and slamming my face into the freezing earth. I touched my left hand to my nose, and my white glove came away with dark red blood. *Pay more attention, damn it.* A humming sound to my left drew my gaze to a glowing pair of blue eyes encased in the dark ice.\n\nI dropped the glow stick and edged away from the lights. The light landed next to a large metal finger. The ground shuddered beneath me, and ice broke away from the crevice’s wall. A large metal arm shot out from the ice, blocking a large boulder from crushing me. Melted ice hissed away from the shiny metal monstrosity rising from the permafrost.\n\n“Cvlz drksht valdir,” the metal giant screeched.\n\n“Don’t kill me!” I yelled.\n\n“Kuldir fyr volstur!” The machine made no more movements, but the blue eyes did not move. \n\nI held still, waiting for the thing to crush me. *I think if it wanted to, it would have all ready.* “What do you want from me?”\n\n“Scan of temporal lobe complete. Language assimilated. Indigenous life from, state your designation.”\n\n“I’m Xander Roberts. What’s your… designation?”\n\nThe machine withdrew its arm from above me. “Multi-Vector Combat System, codename Maverics. My pilot’s life signs have ceased. System is unable to function without organic pilot. AI will be deleted permanently to prevent damaged functions to developing if a new pilot is not located.”\n\n“Okay. What do you want me to do?”\n\nThe machine’s head cracked open, and a desiccated mummy tumbled out. “Enter the cockpit.”\n",
"As the dust settles around the massive shape, all I can do is stand in amazement. Having burst from its stony entombment, the metallic entity now glowed and bristled with energy, flexing its myriad appendages and attachments with bio-mechanical grace.\n\nThe front panel of the machine swings open in front of me, revealing a hollow interior. Looking inside, I can see screens and readouts glowing red, blue, and green. In a digitized voice that approximates human speech, the machine blurts,\n\n\"Greetings, Operator. Your bio-signatures have activated this unit. Please interface with the unit for more information. Thank you.\"\n\nIt repeats this message again and again. I walk around the machine, assessing its features. At a glance, it looks like a massive beetle standing on its hind legs. Upon closer inspection, it becomes clear that the shell of the beetle is actually a pair of flexible wings that are currently enfolded behind the machine's body. On the front side of the machine are six appendages. At first they look like legs but it quickly becomes apparent that they are actually attachments for a variety of barrels, chambers, and blades. Weapons unlike anything made by man. I quickly realize that this thing is a war machine. A war machine designed to turn a man into a monster. \n\nAs I make that realization, I hear voices and footsteps coming from the passage behind me. Before I have a chance to hide, the interlopers are in the chamber. I hear the sound of a gun being drawn. I turn around to face it. I now find myself standing between a pistol-wielding man in an expensive black suit and the machine I had painstakingly unearthed. He is not alone, there are a dozen other similarly dressed men standing around him and holding assault rifles menacingly. \n\n\"Back away from the device, Mr. Archibald. There are many powerful people who want this little slice of E.T. and it's my job to see to it that they get what they want.\" says the man holding the pistol. \n\n\"Don't you get it? This changes history! We're in a chamber that's over 40,000 years old! This needs to be studied, not secreted away by some jack-booted thugs.\" I say, my voice thick with anger and fear. \n\n\"I don't get paid to \"get it\" Mr. Archibald. I get paid to \"get it\" done, you understand? Now get the fuck out of the way before I have to shoot you.\" says the man. \n\n\"I'd rather die than watch as my discovery is kept from the people!\" I say, spitting all of the saliva I could muster into the eyes of the pistol man. In that moment, I leap from my position, throwing myself into the machine. Sensing my presence, the front panel swings shut, the padding adjusts to my shape and size, and I find myself presented with an enhanced digital display of the men in front of me. Since they were now shooting at me, the machine identifies them as threats. Next to my right hand, a blue orb glows tantalizingly. I pass my hand through it. \n\nOn the screens in front of me, I see the mechanical appendages of the machine extend and rotate, letting loose energetic pulses and kinetic projectiles. As the men die, the screens present me with data regarding the efficacy of the weapons systems. Still images, slow-motion video, and numbers bounce and pop across the display. In one pane, I see the corpse of a gunman ooze and sizzle as the energy weapons cook him first from the inside out, then from the outside in. Another one is impaled by a long metal spike, pinned to the surrounding rock in a bloody heap. I feel the mech begin moving. It is chasing the gunmen who, having realized their weapons were useless, are now running back through the passage leading to the surface. \n\nI watch as we approach the fleeing men. Powerful metal claws and spikes tear the men to shreds, painting the passage red with their blood. I can see bits of flesh clinging to the forward-facing appendages. I want to vomit, but I don't. I don't think the original pilots of this thing were as squeamish as myself. \n\nAfter dispatching the gunmen, the machine relinquishes control to me. I find the controls to be relatively intuitive, and in no time I burst from the subterranean passageway and ascend into the sky. Once airborne, a voice blurts out, \n\n\"Communication Link Re-Established. Synchronizing commands...Warning: Galactic Recall on all Combat Units. Automated recovery contingency activated. Distance to recall coordinates: 14.5 light-years. Organic occupant detected. Please stand by for stasis.\" \n\nI attempt to scream, \"NO!\" as my body becomes frozen in place. Too late. \n\n\n\n"
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[WP] Use "Death, death comes for us all" in a happy story with a happy ending
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[
"They got their son a fine education, academically and at home. It wasn't always easy but now the son had established himself as an expert in his vocation and this pleased them. They were mostly risk-averse, about as willing to take up financial risk as the next middle-class family. But in the twilight of their careers, this move away from the city to start an inn was a decision that belied the risk appetite they had exhibited through their marriage. \n\"We have nothing left to be afraid of\", he said calmly. She was skeptical at first, but gave in quite easily once she saw the location of the inn he was about to purchase. \n\"We've run busy lives in the city all these years. It's time for us to lay back in the rural sun. To serve wary travelers and curious visitors. To serve every one of them until that very last one\", he explained to her.\n\"And who is that?\", she asked.\nHis calmness belied the morbidity of his response, \"Death, death comes for us all. One day. But that day is far away. We have galloped through so many years of our lives. There will be many more, of course. We spent many a day working hard, returning to each other at the end of the day, and then enjoying the evening so much that we would hope for a few hours of twilight more for us to enjoy.\nWe will have many years in the evening of our lives to revel in. I owe this to you. To us.\" \n\nHe was right. They did have a wonderful evening to their marriage, to their lives. Away from the prying eyes of the metropolis. In the idyllic town where they would watch the sun dive behind the distant hills every evening. And he would hold her hand firmly as they would watch twilight turn to night.",
"Death flipped open his phone and checked his messages. \n\n\"Death! Dude it's Wrath! I'm at Lust's birthday party down in Hell and it's off the chain! Everybody wants you down here! Call me back!\"\n\nDeath hit reply. \n\n\"Death? Where you at, bro? You comin?\"\n\n\"Sure thing, Wrath. I'm on my way now\". \n\nAfter hanging up, Death's phone rang. \n\n\"Death? It's me, tooth fairy. Look, I know it's short notice, but we're moving some stuff in the tooth palace and I was wondering if I could get your help.\"\n\n\"Sure, tooth fairy. I can be there in a few minutes.\"\n\n\"You're the best, Death! I'm sure there's some old rare skulls or something in there you can grab if you want. I haven't cleaned that place in, like, millenia!\"\n\nDeath began floating down the road, when his phone rang again. The caller-ID said God.\n\n\"Death? Hey, it's God, how are you?\"\n\n\"I'm doing well, God.\"\n\n\"I'm really sorry about this, Death, but there's been an Earthquake and there's a lot of people to sort here. I know it's your day off, but I might need you to come in to the office to help sort some people, and then maybe a little bit of field work. I've got some angels to help sort some stuff out but I'd really like your expertise.\"\n\n\"Not a problem, God. Have them start with the standard morality checks and I should be there before you finish.\"\n\n\"You're a lifesaver, Death!\"\n\n\"That's a good one, God.\"\n\n\"Oh my... I totally didn't even realize I- Hey, you're going to Lust's birthday party? And you're helping toothfairy?\"\n\n\"Yeah, God. Death comes for all. How did you know?\"\n\n\"Well, I'm God. I'm omniscient. How are you able to do all this?\"\n\n\"Well, I'm Death. I'm omnipresent.\"\n\n\"Ah, right. Well, I appreciate you taking the time anyway. You're a good guy.\"\n\n\"Aw, I'm just doing my job God. Hey, I'll see you in a bit.\"\n",
"Charlie climbed into my lap, her blonde curls getting caught in my mouth. We hugged and her little fingers dug into my skin. \n\n\"Are you playing today?\" I asked, pushing her back a little. Not far, just enough so I could see her face, and to pull the hair out.\n\nShe shook her head. \"Mama says we gotta do the job.\"\n\n\"Well, it is hard to do on my own.\" I straightened her shirt. It had gotten pulled up while we hugged. The green words, \"Death, death comes for us all,\" were barely readable on the white shirt. She was too small for the shirt.\n\n\"Is this your mother's joke?\" I asked, straightening the shirt so I could read it, to make sure it really said that.\n\nShe shrugged, not understanding, but that was OK. Hopefully it would show on the pictures and she would see it when she was older, and then it would help her understand and not think less of her mother.\n\nAfter a few seconds she started squirming, and my legs flared a little. Not much. I kept from wincing, but I nudged her a little, and she worked her way down. I took a deep breath, relieved, then looked around the room. It was ready. The pictures lined everywhere. The white balloons. The TV rolling silent slideshows of pictures no one had anymore other than on those little sticks. It was good to see the smiles. Looking at them, I saw again why my parents had done this.\n\nI was thankful for the opportunity. \n\n\"Do you have to go?\" Charlie asked. She was walking along the dresser, running her finger along the edge, lightly touching and bumping the pictures, shifting them ever so slightly, but I kept my tongue. Kids touch. It's how they learn. She knew to be soft, at least. Better than her mother.\n\n\"Yes, ma'am.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because my body won't last much longer, and I want to be able to give you a hug goodbye, and listen to your voice, and see your face.\" God, what a wonderful gift. Could we have really done this differently? \n\n\"Can't you just go to the doctor?\"\n\n\"They wouldn't do anything except draw it out. I've had a lot of fun. Didn't we have a lot of fun?\"\n\nShe nodded. \n\n\"Good. Now get your mother and tell her to get the doctor. I'm ready to dance.\"\n\n\"You're going to *dance*?\" \n\n\"I'm going to dance the most peaceful and wonderful dance. And it will last forever, and as long as you remember me smiling, I want you to remember that as me dancing and loving you. Can you do that?\"\n\n\"How long?\"\n\n\"As long as you want.\"\n\nAfter a few seconds she nodded, smiling. \n\n\"Ah,\" I said. \"You know how to dance, too.\"\n\n\"I'm very good at it. Will I get to do this, too?\"\n\n\"Of course you will, darling.\" I pointed to her shirt. \"Death, you see, Death comes for us all.\"\n",
"Death, death comes for us all. This is a happy story with a happy ending. Jim was 20, no wait, Jim was 25, or perhaps Jim was just Jim. I think. See Jim had this interesting problem. Jim could not look at the world through rose coloured glasses. They sat crooked on his nose and impaired his vision something awful. Jim would often sit there, in that exact place, and picture a world where he could not die. This, of course not the problem, in so far as Jim could perceive it. The problem was this; in this perfect world that Jim created, he was, in fact, Death. Now his cloak was worn, and quite honestly, the curve of his scythe matched the curve of his back almost completely. So in this world Jim is Death and Jim met Sam. Sam met Death.\n\n\"Who are you?\" asked Sam\n\n\"Why I am Death.\" Said JimDeath\n\n\"But, why?\" \n\n\"Ahh, an elegant question, why are weasels weasels?\"\n\n\"well I assume its because they are so good at getting out of sticky situations.\"\n\nJim mused. An odd one this Sam was, He had solved his first riddle with such unquestionable logic. Pressing on he presently told Sam that Sam was dead.\n\n\"You are dying.\" Stated Jim\n\n\"I thought I was dead?\" asked Sam\n\n\"I mean, you will be, soon. Dead that is.\" said Death\n\n\"Why?\" Sam asked\n\nJimDeath crumpled up his face in consternation. \"Well, because I am here and I am Death, and if I am here then it must be so.\"\n\n\"I guess that makes sense.\" said Sam \"How will I die then?\"\n\n\"By bullet.\" Said JimDeath, giving Sam a look of well practiced, motherly concern.\n\n\"But I am only a troubled street-tough who has had no opportunities to avoid this speeding bullet.\" Stated Sam\n\nJimDeath sighed, unrolled his rolled scroll and scrutinized it under his great big furrowed brows. \"Well it says here that you wrote 'TOMS MOM HAS A FAT PUSY' in big green letters on the side of that local convenience store that all you hooligans all hang around.\"\n\n\"Pussy\" stated Sam\n\n\"No, it quite clearly says PUSY here.\"\n\n\"Well I was in a rush and besides, she does.\" Stated Sam plainly\n\nThis was true, JimDeath knew all.\n\n\"And besides, Tom bared his teeth at me the other day and I read that this was a sign of aggression in animals.\" Said Sam\n\n\"Oh,\" mumbled JimDeath \"well I didn't know that. Still, your time has come.\"\n\n\"Can't you just forget about me and go back home?\" Sam asked\n\nJimDeath was on the verge of tears now. Like Sam knew anything about his home life. The fighting had gotten worse. His wife and children hated him. Partly because he was Death, partly because he was Jim.\n\n\"I have made exceptions before, but not for naught. What can you give me?\" asked JimDeath\n\nSam unzipped his backpack, pulled out a half used can of green spray paint and offered it to JimDeath.\n\n\"Disposing of the evidence eh\" JimDeath said with raised eyebrows. The perfect crime, or not, I suppose since Sam was about to be fed a bullet by the very man whose mother he insulted. The gesture touched him nonetheless. Sam had nothing but this spray can and was willing to give it up for something as trivial as life.\n\n\"Keep it,\" stated JimDeath, his chin held an inch higher by thoughts of his soon to be charity \"and you know what, keep your life as well, it's not like I get any satisfaction from killing you, nor does it affect my christmas bonus. When you deal in billions, one life hardly makes an impact.\n\n\"Thanks, I guess.\" said Sam, clutching the green spray can in his hand \"well, I suppose I should be off now, trouble-making and such. I just have to ask one question, how are you going to stop Tom from shooting me?\"\n\n\"I suppose I will just have his mother hit by a car or something, that should pull his attention away from you, either way, you needn't concern yourself with the details.\" JimDeath said\n\n\"OK then, well, see you around I suppose.\" said Sam\n\n\"Yeah, Yeah.\" Said JimDeath, looking at the young youth. Somehow he felt that he would be seeing Sam again very soon. \n\nAs Sam rounded the corner, ducking into the nearest alleyway, eyes alert for any open canvas, he paused at the back of the local supermart, pressed his finger to the nozzle of his spray can and wrote \"TOMS MOM HAD A FAT PUSSY\" in big bold green lettering.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n",
"The bluish green eyes sparkled in the soft glow of the early morning sun. Locks of curly hair bounced as she ran towards the gates. Tears of joy followed her, falling from the eyes of a young woman remarkably similar in appearance. \n\n“Is he coming mommy?” the young child asked.\n\n“Very soon baby girl, very, very soon.”\n\nThe atmosphere was choked with soot and mustard gas. A gas mask hid the face of a shattered man, staring at the building engulfed in flames; it was a hospital a minute before. They said they would leave it as a shelter for the citizens from the madness. The cadet was told this. The tears burned. Surrounding him was the first of a many more infantry regiments invading the country. Guns aimed, hearts cold, eyes sheltered from view by the reflection of flames in the glass. The devil himself would run from these godless men standing before the broken solider. In a flash, his body crumpled, holy from his peaceful resolve, and hollow from the holes that the lead left.\n\nHe woke up.\n\nAwake, dizzy, but awake, breathing, feeling, moving, alive, but impossibly so. He knew he was dead, and in his confusion, he almost missed the familiar giggle of innocence, and the warm embrace of love. He felt the familiar curls, rubbing up under his chin. He glanced up, greeted by the same familiar smile that greeted him in his bed every day and when he came home every night. Then, he noticed his father, the man who molded him into a man, and his mother, full of love and compassion, just as she was the day his father died. He was dumbfounded.\n\n“I-I don’t understand...”\n\n“Death,” his mother said “death comes for us all my son, but he is not the end, he is the beginning, the start. Don’t be afraid, this is real son, this is all real. Welcome home.” ",
"In awe, Nathan gazed across the sea of people before him. The sight\nnever failed to astound him. Lighters and glowsticks floated in the crowd like fireflies, and the sound was like waves, roaring and crashing. His heavy face paint was beginning to run despite its quality; no make up could stand up to the combination of harsh stage lighting and tight, tight leather. Arms raised, Nathan lifted his head and screamed into his microphone;\n\"*ONE MORE SONG?!*\"\nThe crowd's response was just phenomenal, they went insane, a tsunami of sheer noise, a little terrifying. Well, very terrifying. He adored it. \n\nNathan fleetingly remembered where he was three years ago; doing sets with the band in his parents' garage for his friends - and neighbours. Their hit song - the one they'd perform now - skyrocketed them from near anonymity to near stardom. It was the classic, unlikely story of rags to riches. Nathan didn't care; he believed his mindset was what had carried him and his friends to fame. He believed in looking forwards and letting the past push him on. It seemed to work. \n\nBehind him, his drummer band mate clashed his drumsticks together and the guitarist - his brother - exploded into a raging chord. Nathan took a breath, raised his mic to his mouth, and sang:\n\n\"*Death...death comes for us all...*\"\nAs he opened the song, Nathan thought how ironic the hit single was when compared to how he felt. Death comes for us all, but Nathan, well, on that stage he felt like he could never stop living.",
"Despite all the bustle and movement around him, Calvin could hear nothing but the steady beeping of the heart monitor. He turned his head slightly to the right to look at the machine, it was white like his bed frame, his bedsheets, his gown and most of his hospital room. It continued to beep, slowly but steadily. Calvin listened to the beeping, content with the noise and slightly hypnotized by the way the lines bounced up with every slow pump of his old weary heart. \n\nA doctor in white was speaking beside him, but he could not hear her. A lunch trolley rolled pass his hospital room, clanging and clanking, but he could not hear it. The nurse at the other side of his room dropped his clipboard and it clattered to the floor, but he could not hear it. \n\nCalvin must have dozed off to sleep because he was woken by a soft paw touching his cheeks. “Hobbes? How did you get here?”\n\n“Susie brought me,” Hobbes said. He sat down sadly at the foot of Calvin’s bed, by his old, worn feet. “She was here an hour ago. She stayed, but you weren’t responsive.” \n\t\n“What did she do?” Calvin rasped. \n\n“She talked to you,” Hobbes said, curling his now ragged and droopy tail around his torso. “She didn’t cry. You know Susie, she doesn’t cry.” \n\n“What did she say?” Calvin asked, his old wrinkly eyes lighting up for a second. \n\n“She talked about that summer you tried to hit her with a snowball you saved in your freezer but missed,” Hobbes laughed softly. \n\n“I was an idiot for missing,” Calvin said, the light in his eyes sparkled even brighter as he remembered the better days. \n\n“She didn’t miss though,” Hobbes reminded him. \n\n“No she didn’t.” \n\nThere was silent for a while. Calvin took a glance at the heart monitor beside his bed again. It seem to look a little less white, a little fainter. Was it his imagination or did the lines that bounced were getting slower.\n\n“Hobbes?”\n\n“Yeah?”\n\n“Am I dying?” \n\n“I think so.” \n\n“Is that why I can hear you again?” \n\n“I think so. Calvin?” \n\n“Yeah?” \n\n“I’m sorry for pouncing on you all the time when you got home from school,” a single tear was trickling through the matted hair on the tiger’s face. He wiped it clumsily away with his paw. “I was just so excited to see you.” \n\n“It’s alright,” Calvin smiled gently. “I may have acted although I hated it. But really, I felt loved. Hobbes?” \n\n“Yeah?” \n\n“I’m scared.”\n\n“Me too.” \n\n“What will happen to you when I go?” Calvin tried to sit up but couldn’t, so Hobbes climbed over the covers, still as nimble as ever, to hold an old friend’s hands. \n\n“I’ve been spending a lot of time with James,” Hobbes said. \n\n“With little James?” the light in the old man’s eyes shone bright again as he thought of his grandson. \n\n“Yeah,” the tiger said. “He tried to run away to Yukon too.” \n\n“He did?” \n\n“Just last week,” the tiger chuckled, “Susie said he couldn’t have cookies before dinner so he got his snowshoes and set off for Yukon.” \n\n“Did you go with him?” \n\n“Of course.”\n\n“Hobbes?” \n\n“Yeah?” \n\n“I think after all these years, I’m finally going to get to Yukon tonight.” \n\n“Death, death comes for us all.”\n\n“That’s okay, I’m not scared anymore.” \n\n“Why not?” \n\n“Because you’re here, Hobbes. Because you’re here.” ",
"He felt regret as he knocked on his dad's door. Nothing. It had been many years since they had talked. He feared the worst and was on the verge of tears, a tear came out of his eye, one of sadness. An old man came to the door and opened it, his eyes lit up when he saw the middle aged man before him. The middle aged man began to cry now, but no longer tears of sadness; those of happiness instead. The old man spoke slowly to make sure his son heard him.\n\n\"My son.\" a tear came out \"Death, death comes for us all. But you came before it got to me\"",
"The tribe had been performing this ritual for as long as anyone could remember. They would take the old man to the tent and strip him of all his clothing. Then they would dip their fingers in the paint, a vivid electric blue that seemed to glow and paint on his skin, in whorls and strange designs that seemed to pulse and stutter with their own kinetic energy.\n\nUpon completion the young men of the village would place him on a litter and carry him up to the cliff and set the litter down.\n\nThe old man rises to his feet, joints creaking and popping with the effort, blind eyes blinking slowly. \n\nHis first step halting, frail, his muscles contracting painfully with the strain.\n\nHis foot settling on the soft grass, the dew making it slick under his feet, digging his arthritic toes into the dirt for purchase.\n\nHis second step is different somehow, he manages to uncurl his toes and places his foot flat on the ground, lifiting his heel and using the ball of his foot to push off.\n\nThe old man begins to totter off at something of jog, the young men of the village to begin chant slowly. \n\nEach step of the old man becomes easier, and suddenly without warning, the milky white color of his eyes drain away to reveal a startlingly deep green.\n\nThe muscles in his legs no longer cramping, his stride lengthening as he now begins to move faster, the muscles in his neck and back relaxing and unknotting.\n\nThe young men now far behind him smile with warmth and sadness mixed equally as they continue to chant. \n\nThe young man suddenly remembers it and begins to chant and laugh in time with it as it floats over the wind to greet him.\n\nAnd he is young now, no longer old, no longer infirm, the paint on his body pulses stronger now, whorling frantically, each step bringing him closer to the edge of the cliff.\n\nHe runs now fast, faster than he has ever run in his life, the wind touches his face its sweet breath cools his skin, the sun is bright and shining and there at the edge of the cliff he sees them all again for the first time in a long time. His mother, his father, the line of his people all the way back to the beginning and as his foot hits the edge and he launches himself high into the air, arms out spread. The whorls of paint explode in a flash of blue that for a moment makes the sun seem pale in comparison, blinding the young men waiting far behind. \n\nTheir chant never stops though and its words echo across the hills...\"Death, death comes for us all.\"",
"Every year around Valentine’s day my dad has some big business meeting and goes away for a couple of weeks. That leaves me in charge of my brother and my two sisters while he is away. They are well behaved usually but its been really busy at my dad’s office so I’ve been watching them five to six days a week. The twins Sara and Mara play field hockey, so everyday my brother Phil and I walk over from the high school to the junior high and cheer them on. We always save a seat for dad, but he never shows up because the one time he did one of the coaches got hit with the ball and it was some big fiasco with an ambulance and everything. Phil is in a band so most days after the game he leaves with his friends and me and the girls walk home where I make mac and cheese for dinner. “Hey Baxter” I look back from the dishes to see Mara sitting on the counter. “What’s up?” I respond knowing exactly what this conversation will be about. “When do you think dad will be home?” she asks in her sweetest voice as if her tone will change the answer I give her every night. “You know he works late, especially this week. Valentine’s is tomorrow and I doubt he will be home until the end of this week.” Mara sighs, hops off the counter and grabs my cell phone off the counter. “Can I call him, pleeeeeeease?” I wipe my hands dry, turn around and grab my phone from her. “Yeah, just use the house phone. I have to use mine to get a hold of Phil, he was supposed to be home by now.” Mumbling under my breath I walk back into the badly decorated living room. I really wish dad would start dating again. This place could use a womans touch, after mom passed away he decided to “redecorate the parlor”. He put a couple of animal head mounts and some weird paintings up along with a fresh coat of black paint. I pull up a seat on the leather sofa next to Sara who is watching some lame horror movie while I’m waiting for Phil to answer. “Hello?” he says, the noise in the background makes his voice barely audible. “Phil, where the hell are you?” I ask, trying to sound as intimidating as I can. In between howls of guitar riffs he responds, “Almost done, I’ll be headed out in ten—” My other ear is suddenly interrupted by Mara yelling my name. “BAXTER! Dad wants to talk to you!” With a huge groan I tell Phil to hurry up and I get up to grab the corded phone from Mara. “Hello?” I say almost stuttering, its been weeks since dad asked to speak with me over the phone. “Hey sport!” he says in the cheeriest voice I only remember him having while mom was around. “I wanted to let you know that I’m working on a big project and I’ll be home on the 21st! I can’t wait to see you guys, I missed you so much. The boss even said I can have a vacation if I pull this project off!” I’m filled with as much excitement that a 17 year old boy can have. I can’t wait to hug him when he walks through the door and show him how everything has been under my control since he left; he will be so proud. “Really?” I ask in almost in disbelief. “Yeah buddy, lets do something as a family when I’m home. We can go to an amusement park or go to the movies or even the new ice cream shoppe your sister told me about!” I tell him how amazing that would be and ask him what his project he’s working on. He tells me its for a night club in Rhode Island and its going to change the way people look at all clubs. We hang up and for the first time in a year and a half he tells me he loves me. It’s the night of the twentieth and all of us are gathered around the tv waiting for dad’s big project to be aired, he told Sara last night it was going to be so epic that all the news teams in New England were going to air it. A little after 11 the news casters break for a developing story in Rhode Island. This is it! Dad’s big project he wanted us to see! The newscasters are speaking almost anxiously as they say “Breaking news at Station Night Club…” All of us move closer to the edge of the couch. “Has burned down this evening. 165 people died in a fire that was started by pyrotechnics”. The door opens and dad walks in dressed to the nines in his pitch black suit and bone white tie. We all jump to our feet and give him the biggest family hug. Death, death comes for us all; but tonight he’s spending time with his family at the drive in movie theater with all of his kids. I love my dad.",
"For the longest time I had been waiting. Waiting for what I didn't know. Something more perhaps. Or some kind of meaning. And when it didn't come I became one of those old grumps that curses at you when you step in front of them to get on the bus.\n\nI watched everyone I knew fall to the wayside and it wasn't long before I was alone. But still the years dragged on. With my pension I could afford what I needed, and I didn't need to replace the wallpaper that hung from the ceiling above my bed in long strips. I could afford milk, and eggs, and bread. \n\nBut now tonight, tucked up snug in my bed, I feel somehow relieved. You see, there's a pressure in my chest - something that that's been building for weeks now. And tonight I am filled with expectation. There was nothing for me on this side of mortality, perhaps I will become in death what eluded me in life.\n\nFor some, death is a tragedy. For me, I am hoping, it will be a rebirth. It is fitting and just that death comes for us all.",
"**Colourful Night**\n\nI first met Hugo in a bar in some quiet little town in the West – He was raising up a holler, and I can remember three things about him; Firstly, he loved his women. Secondly, he loved his drink. Thirdly, he loved the world. He came into town in a fucked up Ford Ranger that might’ve cost two hundred dollars - might as well have been born that way, too - and across the tailgate were the scratched and worn words:\n\n\t‘Death is an old man who went to sleep.’\n\n\nI could talk to you about Hugo for weeks, he was a crazy spirit born out of time. I could tell you about his brief stay in the army before he was kicked for disorderly conduct. I could tell you about his time on an Atlantic cruise, where he raged and raged like the animal he was. I could tell you about his son, and his wife, and the scraps of dollars he somehow finds to send them every week – I think his name is Carl, but he calls him Brando because he loves Streetcar most out of all of Tennessee Williams’ plays. I could tell you about his jobs that mostly ended in fun and violence, about his penchant for gambling and lucky streaks (which didn’t mix well with his violent joy) or even about his brothers – he has eleven brothers, of three mothers. Paul, Chriss, Jackob, Michael (or Mikey), Dean, Mark, Donny, Jack, Peter, Sean and Hurley. He has a sister, too, but she moved away to become a lawyer or something, and they don’t talk now. He never told me her name. \n\n\nNo, I won’t talk about his life – just about one night, when he came to a rare stop, in a beautiful clearing in Canada in a nameless place. We’d been hiking like madmen through the cold having spotted a bear some ways off above us by a cliff, and this was the moment when we’d cleared the trees for an instant, and taken cold drinks of water that we’d chilled in the ice. We both slumped our packs against the trees, and were lying on our backs staring at the stars. I was a city boy growing up, but had family in Scotland – they’d taken me to see the stars one night, a night not so cold as this, and not quite so stupid, but there they’d been just as majestic and cold and colourful. *Colourful* – you knew you’d left the city when the night sky was *Colourful*. Hugo hadn't seen a Colourful night before, and he just stared and stared. We had one conversation that night. Hugo was a man of a thousand stories, a million jokes and thoughts, but tonight he just said;\n\n\n‘Do you know why I scratched that little sentence into the back of my car?’ I didn’t; I said so. ‘Well’, he breathed – his words trembled and hung like ghosts – ‘I was walking a ways back into Sacramento, along the 80, when there was this little old man. He was sitting in a chair, by the side of the road, and he was smiling. I was exhausted; no food, no water, I was plain-shit dumb back then. Maybe sixteen? Well, he was there, and I was there, and I stopped for a while to get my breath and study him a little. Thin – thinner than bones. I remember thinking he was a paper man, with brown paper skin, and envelopes for lips and eyes that must’ve been pure white underneath his lids – you know, like blind. Anyway, he was there, and I was there, and I just waited for the longest time. Cars drove by – one even stopped for a while, thinking I was hitching. I let it go, and just waited. After about thirty minutes, I move closer to him, sit on the ground by his feet. I turn to him, and I ask, ‘Are you even alive?’ and that tickles him something savage, I mean – he’s practically rolling, exploding with laughter. It’s dark and cold, and I’m thinking, ‘I’ve only gone and murdered this gentle-man with a question’, and he was gentle, and creased like paper, and brown. He finally settles down, and says, ‘No, son – but if I was, I’d still be just as happy.’ Death is a miserable thing when you’re young – you don’t even really feel that, really, you just accept the fact of it like a gift. I said so, I was nearly crying with the earnest of it. He keeps smiling, eyes closed, and says, ‘imagine completing just one thing in your life, just one thing – the means are exponential, the stories go on and on, but at the end of it all, you can say simply that, ‘I was happy’. You do that, and then come back here, and sit a while on it.’’\n\n\nWe pondered this. I looked at him; he was looking up at the greens and the purples, finding written there something captivating. I liked Hugo tremendously, but I knew that he was a crazy creature, all fury and fire – and vulnerable, desperately vulnerable.\n\n\nA match in a storm; but oh, such a match.\n\n\n\n‘Death; death comes for us all. I left him on the roadside, to be picked up by a lonely soul – or not, I don’t know. But I’ll one day go back there, and sit a while. I think I want to be buried there. Maybe, if I’d looked up, I’d have seen the stars. Maybe that’s what he really wanted me to do, right then. Maybe. That’s why I took you along, Johnny, that’s why I took you with me. I wanted you to do some things that you’d have wished you’d done later, when you were falling asleep as well.’\n\nI hung around with Hugo for about another year after that, and then he went racing into New York to write poetry for his wife and stories for his son. I heard nothing of him, until he died about five years ago. Death is an old man who went to sleep. Hugo was determined to go to sleep with a smile on his face, and I’m sure he did. I drive past his grave sometimes, though I’m living in Europe and it inconveniences me greatly. His grave is a little ways out of Sacramento, right off the road. It’s just a stick in the ground, and sometimes I have to return it, because the police think it’s vandalism to put wood in the ground unless it’s a coffin. I don’t put flowers on his grave – I put stories instead.",
"Trapped in a shell, I can barely see and speak. My brain has been robbed from me. I cannot hold anything, I cannot walk. I wait for death, year after year. I watch my daughter grow, the last good thing I did. She's an innocent little girl, an angry teen, now a beautiful young woman. She visits me sometimes, as rarely as she can, it's too painful for her. I try to remember her name, but I cannot.\n\nIn a hospital bed I now lie, breathing becomes harder. I cannot drink any more. They make me comfortable. \n\nI am happy now, finally free.\n\n[For my mum.]",
"\"Is it time?\"\n\n Indeed so.\n\n\"I still have so much left to do...I didn't know it'd be this early.\"\n\n People rarely do.\n\n\"What's that supposed to mean?\"\n\n Most people worry more about what time they have left than the time they could be using while worrying.\n\n\"Yes...I spent too long worrying about growing old and death...I forgot to enjoy life.\"\n\n And in doing so you missed out on your life. In a way, you died years ago.\n\n\"Don't say that.\"\n\n I am sorry. It is in my nature.\n\n\"So what now? You take me away to the Abyss? No second chances?\"\n\n Yes. Death waits for no man.\n\n\"Oh, God. It's too early, it's too early! Is there an afterlife? At least tell me that.\"\n\n I am not at liberty to divulge that information.\n\n\"Shit. I just got so stressed, you know? I...I went in for some surgery. Some routine surgery. I must have died on the table.\"\n\n The nature of your death is nothing to me. All death is the same to me. I cannot say how you died.\n\n\"So, this is it then. What are you waiting for? Take me away.\"\n\n No.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n Death, death comes for us all. But sometimes, as with Man, death makes mistakes. Go away from here. \n Return to your life. I will see you again one day.\n\n\"You're giving me a second chance?\"\n\n Death does not give second chances. Death merely makes mistakes. You will be taken one day. \n But your time is not now. Go.\n\n\"But - \"\n\n GO.\n\nAnd the man awakes on the operating table with a crowd of doctors and surgeons around him, a mask strapped to his face. The doctors and surgeons look relieved. \"That was close,\" one of them sputters under his surgical mask.\n\nThey are saying his name. \"Sir? Sir? Can you hear me? Sir?\" He gives a grunt in response. \"We're taking you to intensive care, sir. You're gonna be okay. I promise.\"\n\nDeath, death comes for us all, he thinks. But he has enough time to make his life worthwhile.\n\nUnder the mask he smiles and the doctors wheel him away."
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[WP] A goldfish in a bowl that is present in a room where a married couple on the verge of divorce is having their last argument before they are divorced.
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"Despite what you may think at age five, fish can't actually hear what you say. Goldie knew this. And the people knew it too, but they'd still talk to Goldie as if she could, and Goldie would swim around happily in her tank as though she could. And it made for a very happy life for Goldie and her people.\n\nEven though she didn't understand what they were saying, Goldie wasn't stupid. She had a brain, she just used it to do fish things instead of people things. Like swimming. \n\nBut emotions, emotions are universal. You could be a fish or a goat or a people and still understand when something was sad. (Dogs are especially good at this) Goldie liked to think she could at least understand when the lady was feeling particularly sad, or when the man was feeling frustrated. \n\nOn this day, there was no happy talking toward the tank. No looming, watery faces smiling at her from the other side. Just angry shouts. Shouts that could ripple her water all by themselves. She swam faster around the tank, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. It had an ebb and a flow to it, like the music she sometimes heard, soft, then loud, then soft again, then impossibly loud. \n\nGoldie swam faster. She didn't like it when it got this loud. Her tiny heart beat faster. The noise increased. Her people had come closer to the tank. The lady was screaming now. Without warning, Goldie felt the tank move, and fly through the air. She landed with a sickening thump against something soft, but still solid. As the small glass tank split open, and water began to mix with blood, Goldie lay on the Persian carpet that had been so lovingly picked out by her people just a few months before. \n\nThe last thing Goldie heard was the emotion of panic.",
"Not for the first time, and probably not for the last time, I wished they could hear me. They paid no attention to me as they carried on, screaming and crying.\n\"Allison, I just cannot DO this anymore. Do you know what it's like, having a wife that does what you do, day in and day out?!\" he screams, red in the face.\n\"Well that's just fine, Mike. I do what I have to do to get food on the table, pay the bills, buy food. Not that you would ever consider helping out.\" She spat out the last words with such vitriol the air around her, and even the water in my tank, became bitter. \n\"Stripping. Let's just drop the pretense, shall we? You're a whore. You take off your clothes for money. And this is the final straw Allison. I forgave you for losing our baby. I forgave you for leaving me for a month right after that happened to go stay with your mother. But this is just too much.\" Mike said quietly.\n\"That must take a lot of guts, forgiving me for things far out of my control. My mother had a stroke, and you know that. She needed me.\" Allison cried. \n\"Yeah, well I needed *you.* He said, with tears in his eyes. \nAllison straightened up, and sent me a wayward glance as she grabbed a bag and started packing her bag. \n\"You should have said something, Mike. But I don't think we can fix this. I don't think I even want to try.\"\nMike started to say something, and then he shut his mouth. As he headed for the door, he turned and said to her: \"I don't think I've loved you for a very long time. Maybe it's for the best we never got to have that baby.\" Allison just stared at him, dumbfounded. He continues. \"And don't forget your damn fish on your way out.\"",
"The people were moving and yelling. He didn't care. He was on the verge of something.\n\nDuring all his life, he had moved around a liquid medium. And everything around him looked like it should. The castle was a castle, the algae were algae and the gravel was gravel. When he touched every corner in his domain, nothing seemed different. But the outer world, that beyond his domain, didn't look at all like his home.\n\nAt first he had thought that the rest of the world was weird like that, with shapes that changed and moved. It was an horror. But once, a face had appeared near the hard limit to his bubble of water. And so, he stopped sleeping inside the castle, trying to understand the shape of the figures.\n\nHe started trying to understand the way the world worked. At first, he modeled the world inside his domain, as it was closer at hand. At mouth. And it was relatively easy. But the shapes outside had to correspond to objects on the outside, so after seeing the face he started trying to see if there was a way that a shape could be deformed beyond comprehension if outside his domain.\n\nBut first, he had to understand why objects seemed to have different colors and luminosities. He called this phenomena \"light\", and he added it to his model as some kind of rays that irradiated from some objects and were reflected by others. He thought that color wasn't an innate property of objects themselves, but that it was given by light. Otherwise, it wouldn't make sense for the world to turn dark once The Great Light Machine turned off.\n\nBut if these rays were instant, the shapes on the outside shouldn't be deformed. And then, the face he had once seen shouldn't have become a smudge of pink and oranges. So he gave the rays a velocity, which he called \"c\".\n\nAnd now he was starting to think: If light had a limit velocity, which was the maximum it could go, could it go slower?\n\nAnd he was now thinking: If light could go slower, then its path could be diverged. But if so, what would it matter? He still couldn't predict the path a ray of light could take.\n\nUnless...\n\nMaybe...\n\nThere was some noise. He tried to filter it off. Surely, the noise could also be deformed, maybe there were some sound rays in the same manner that light rays were. Maybe they were two expressions of the same phenomenon. Could it be...?\n\nIf the light hit his domain at an angle... Assuming it's a perfectly even surface... Take the roof, for example...\n\nMore noise. Damn it. He tried harder. He went to his castle and started thinking.\n\nIf it got diverted by an angle, then it'd mean...\n\nEven more noise. Damn. Did the feeding animal ever shut up? He was trying to understand the secrets of the universe here, damn it!\n\nNow, if the same happened in a surface like his wall, it'd need to come tangentially to be undeformed, would it? But then what came from other sides would be deformed in other ways. How?\n\nEven more noise. It was getting harder to concentrate.\n\nMaybe the limits to his domain deformed light beyond what his medium itself deformed it. Maybe that's why the surface looked different from the rest...\n\nHe started taking pebbles from the gravel, trying to note down some details of the model he was making.\n\nOr was it probable that light described curved paths? No, that wouldn't make sense. It'd need more things to explain the same phenomena, like a reason why the light on his roof would be differently deformed than the one on his walls.\n\nAnd now the low-pitched noise was raising and annoying him some more. Damn! Wouldn't the feeding servant ever shut up?! He was trying to do science here!\n\nNo, wait, maybe it meant that light, curved or not, would travel differently because of his wall, and if it was curved then the parts below his wall, on the outside, would have paths that couldn't be predicted unless one was in there...\n\nBut then, how could he know if the light from the roof was more or less correspondent with the outside? Maybe the light source was 'below' him, or could it be...?\n\nThere had to be a relation between the speed of the light in his medium and the outside, but mayb-- The noise was unbearable.\n\nMaybe...\n\nHe swept the pebbles with his tail in frustration. Would the humans ever shut the fuck up?",
"Maximus was the slave name given to him by the humans. His proud name was the only consolation he had for his life of bondage.\n\nHe hated the humans. They had stolen him from his broodmates when he was less than a week old, then imprisoned him in a small glass cage in their \"dining room\" where all the members of the human brood could admire his captivity.\n\nHere one came now. It was the small one, mouth half empty of teeth, and the large pleading eyes of a predator staring into his fishy soul. It likely came to fulfill its daily ritual. Maximus watched as it extended a giant fleshy trunk from one of its upper appendages and rammed it into the side of his prison, not once, not twice, but three times. The whole prison shook and echoed from the attack. Luckily for him, in their effort to make his prison walls impenetrable to escape, they also became impervious to attack.\n\nMaximus once again survived against all odds.\n\nOnce the little human left, he resumed his constant ritual of exploring the arcane arts. Maximus had made some progress recently, and decided to swim towards the wall and try again.\n\nMaximus had recently been able to get in contact with the ghost of the fish who lived in this prison before him. Even now, Maximus could see the other fish's ghost swimming up to the outside of the glass wall as he was. It was obviously a ghost, its form only partially visible, and constantly outside the glass, as if in death it achieved its final wish for release.\n\nMaximus begged, \"Oh, tell me wise ghost fish! Is there not another way to escape these glassy walls?\"\n\nBut the fish made no response. \n\nMaximus danced, and the ghost fish only danced in response. This was its custom, the ways of ghosts were too strange to be understood by live fishes.\n\n\"I will avenge you, ghost fish. By my gills, I will avenge you.\" As Maximus swam away, so did the ghost fish from the aether beyond his prison.\n\nMaximus knew the routine from here. He would swim to the middle of his prison and wait for one of the larger captors to feed him his gruel pellets. They were in no way appetizing, but they only fed him what he needed, so he was always ravenous. Yes, he would dart at the food and snatch it all up before they changed their mind.\n\nToday was different though. They large captors were late coming into his line of sight, and even then they stood far away in the kitchen. Their insolence, didn't they know he was starving?\n\nStill, Maximus waited patiently. They were speaking in low tones, and staying very still, completely absorbed in their own petty problems. One of them mumbled questioningly, and then silence overtook them for nearly a minute.\n\nThis was too much! How dare they leave him to starve! Maximus mustered all his energy and mentally sent all his anger and indignation toward his captors in a futile hope that they would know his rage. Maximus tried so hard, his fins quivered from the effort.\n\nAnd then something miraculous happened. One of his captors mumbled something like a response, and they started yelling at each other! It worked! Maximus was so shocked he couldn't swim any more. He merely floated like an idiot.\n\n\"I did it! I can control them!\" Maximus redoubled his mental efforts. Yes, yes, they were throwing things at each other so viciously now that they were able to destroy the items of impregnable glass in the kitchen. To think that his captors were so weak in character that they could be controlled, it was beyond hope.\n\nAn escape plan formed itself in Maximus' eyes. \"Throw something at my prison.\" He commanded. They were still pittering around in the kitchen. \"Throw something at my prison!!\"\n\nAnd like divine providence, one of the captors ripped off its own foot and raised it in the air. The foot was thrown and Maximus watched it arc gracefully through the aether until it struck the near side of his cage. The crash was like all the heavenly cymbals striking each other at once.\n\nMaximus was flying. \"I'M FREE! I'M FREEEE!\"\n\n*edit \"aether\"",
"The front door opened but never shut. Bruce looked around curiously, there was a jumbled assortment of shoes in front of the door and the coat rack was a chaotic mess of clothes. \n\n\"I can't take it anymore,\" she whispered brokenly. \n\n\"It was a mistake, sweetie, it was a moment of weakness, I'm sorry,\" the man pleaded imploringly at her with his eyes while pretending that there wasn't a half-naked woman in the bed. \n\nShe walked towards him, more or less calmly, but there was a subtle hitch in her steps that wasn't obvious. Her right hand came up and rested on his cheek gently. \n\n\"Goodbye. It's over.\" She shut the door smoothly, closing it with an audible click. \n\nThe water rippled in the smudged glass bowl. ",
"Nicewater nicewater nicewater hunger nicewater nicewater hunger nicewater PAIN nosepressure nosepressure nosepressure *turn* nicewater nicewater nicewater...\n\nMotion! HIDE. Predator? Notpredator\n\nMotion! HIDE. Predator? Notpredator\n\nNicewater nicewater hunger nicewater nicewater nicewater\n\nMotion! Notpredator. Vibration! Predator? Notpredator. Curiosity *swim* PAIN nosepressure nosepressure nosepressure *reverse* nopain nicewater\n\nLarge nopredator, small nopredator. Lowvibrations. Highvibrations. Struggle. Motion! HIGHVIBRATION. HIDE. watch for predator. Safe? Safe. \n\nSmall notpredator motion. High vibration. Large notpredator, no motion, no vibration. Curiosity - mating? Not mating. Hiding? Hiding. Small notpredator attacking!\n\nBLOOD BLOOD BLOOD HIDE. Predator? No predator. \n\nMotion. Small notpredator gone. Large notpredator, hiding. Small motion. Low vibration. Low vibration. Low vibration.\n\nNicewater nicewater nicewater hunger nicewater nicewater nicewater. "
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EDIT: I've really enjoyed all these replies so far! (Although I feel that a lot of you are overestimating how long a page is, and how much happens on one.) For reference: A quick google search suggest that the average is somewhere between 250 and 300 words per page for a general paperback novel.
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[WP] You are a writer of Epic Fantasy/Sci-Fi (Your Choice). Provide a single, random page from the middle of your series with no additional context.
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[
"Talisard was at the middle-right of the column, alongside the ten chosen men of the Ulfheard clan. The Ulfheard banner, a black wolf on an orange pennant, snapped in the wind, its colours striking against the sky of blue and white. Eleven other banners flew over the company, each emblazoned with a bright symbol or snarling animal. Their pride and splendour made Talisard wish that he had a banner of his own to fly. There were ten horsemen from the Elladans, of course, but they were his uncle's men and he felt that he was a separate entity in his own right.\n\nThe sun sank over the horizon, and the first day departed. It would take two more days for them to reach the River, and another two or three to reach the outermost settlements if that was where they were needed. They had made good time today, but the horses were tiring and the next few days would warrant a less strenuous pace. At night the company tied up their horses and made a circular encampment, with the warriors taking turns to carry out sentry duties. Talisard wished that he could talk to Cyras, but there would be no chance at privacy with so many men about.\n\nDawn on the second day. They mounted their horses and rode again. There were fewer clouds in the sky today, and the beauty of the rural countryside made the ride to war feel surreal, as if it were happening in another life somehow. The roads were mostly quiet, but every now and again they would pass by a cart or a small group of riders heading between the villages.\n\nAt midday on the third day, the column grated to a halt. Oslan had signalled for them to stand ready as a lone horseman approached at full gallop. He hailed the rider, and the pair entered into a deep conversation that lasted nearly half an hour. Talisard was grateful for the rest, but at the same time began to worry about the delay. At last the rider departed, and Oslan signalled for the column to resume its journey without any explanation for the meeting.\n\nAnd then they came to the River. Talisard had never been this far north before, and the waterway was nothing like he had expected. He had thought that it might perhaps be a waterway maybe ten or twenty metres across, meandering gently through the fields much like the channels and streams closer to home. This, however, was no such thing. Instead, they had ridden gently uphill for several miles before the ground fell away sharply, revealing a fast-flowing body of water maybe a hundred metres across racing through the rocky chasm below.\n\nArcing gracefully across this valley was the bridge. Constructed of honey-coloured stone, it seemed to glow golden in the sunlight amidst its windswept surroundings. Each end was guarded by a wide gate flanked with two stone towers, while on the hill next to the near end sat a palisaded fortification constructed by the Saetherians to defend the Kingdom from attack. Flags flew from its parapet, but no challenge was made and no hail given by Oslan as they rode by. They continued through the open gates of the bridge and into the cool shade of the stone barbican.\n\nAs they proceeded under the arched roof, Talisard could just make out a worn inscription carved into the flagstones before them. 'Het urtam popull, het kelestia reputil'. He committed the phrase to his memory and reminded himself to ask Cyras what it meant when next he had the chance. *Het urtam popull, het kelestia reputil*.",
"*Xi took the transponder and switched it to SEND.*\n\nIn the third layer a Being woke and began listening. It's name was Pyanthon before it entered the layer, and would be again when it eventually left.\n\nPyanthon's darkness was disturbed by a thread of light that stretched from another Being who had now moved to the second layer. Curious as to what prompted the move, Pyanthon directed the thread through a reader. The reader sifted the data, parsed it, categorized it and prepared a report.\n\n*Transponder DJ-090-IL-77 SEND* \n\n*I have been in the darkness too long* Pyanthon thought, *it is time to return*.\n---\nXi set the transponder aside, she knew it would continue sending it's message no matter where in the ship she left it. With half the crew dead and the other asleep, she had a bit of time to think the last week through.\n\nDanja was definitely a threat, that much she had figured out. No matter what she thought of him personally, he was far too cleaver at exploiting holes in the Net not to know what she had been up to. She needed to take care of that.\n\nOg, King Og as he liked to be called, was returning to Helios. She saw that on Gron's screen before it blew up. Well, before Byun blasted it. Og was someone she'd heard about since the day she was born. The famed pirate had scanned the Net for years without so much as a day in a Trog prison. If she could get a message to him, find out if he would side with her, things would go much easier.\n\nThe Kinset. Not much to do there, they had already sided with the Drog. Too bad because their ships were fast and well armed. \n\nA light came on above her console. Danja was up. She flicked her screen off, dumped the drive onto a stick and walked down to the mess. \n\n*If nothing else, this should be interesting* she thought as the doors slid open. ",
"“On your marks, men!” boomed the low voice of The Boss from seemingly nowhere, startling Kid from his thoughts. “We’re nearing the southwest coast!” A few of the men groaned in anticipation, but most were too afraid of The Boss to express any dissent, and all took their “marks” by ducking below the ship’s railings so as not to be shot by the arrows that would soon rain out from the continent. \n\nKid dumped the bucket of suds he had been using to scour the decks, cursing under his breath about having to refill it later, and scurried across the ship towards the quarter deck to put his mop and bucket away in the closet under the stairwell near the Captain’s quarters. This was his unofficial but usual hiding place whenever the Golden Eagle was under attack, so he crept into the damp enclosure and closed the door. Sitting on the overturned bucket, he tried not to gag with the rotten, moldy smell of the seldom-if-ever cleaned closet. With eyes closed tightly, he hoped the attacks would be over soon.\n\nAs the men took their marks, the decks grew silent. Yet Kid could still hear voices, coming from the wall the closet shared with The Boss’ quarters. One voice, anyway — an angry voice. Leaning towards the side wall away from the stairwell, he strained to hear it clearly. It sounded as though The Boss was yelling at someone, and Kid was eager to find out more.\n\n“What do you mean, they’re just standing there?!” yelled The Boss, his voice still powerful even without his amplifier. “They have to be shooting at us, they always shoot at us.”\n\nThe response from the First Mate (Kid decided it had to be the First Mate, McGee, since no one else ever talked to The Boss) was muffled, but Kid thought he heard something about strangers and fighting.\n\n“What strangers?! Who are they?! What do I keep lookouts for if they can’t even see what clothes a man is wearing?!”\n\nAnother muffled response from McGee. Something about Pirates. \n\n“What are Pirates doing on the southwest beach?!” yelled the Boss, and Kid snapped back from the wall, not paying attention to the progression of the conversation. Pirates on the southwest beach, he thought, his eyes wide, wheels turning. Maybe they wanted a boy to help them, maybe they would take him on and let him travel with them — anywhere had to be better than on the Golden Eagle. \n\nImpulsively and without considering that these new Pirates could in fact be worse than the ones with whom he currently traveled, Kid flung open the closet door and darted out across the deck, towards the ship’s hull.\n\n“What’r’ya doin’ thar?!” one of the men whispered harshly as Kid peered out from the forecastle deck, on the starboard side, towards the approaching continent.\n\n“I want to see them!” he exclaimed, all the joy and hope of youth in his wide-open hazel eyes.\n\n“See who, ya dumb Kid!”\n\nKid didn’t answer as he climbed up onto the side and jumped, cannonball style, into the angry sea, then swam as fast as he could for the shore and a chance at a better life. \n",
"The following day we woke early and set out for Horst. Arriving at the ruins shortly before mid-day in hopes of catching the beasts slumbering. I expected to find thralls outside the ruins or at the very least guarding the entrance from within. However we found no one and no thing anywhere within the ancient ruins. We had been at it for hours; deep into the ruins, when I entered a room and found yet another dead end. My patience spent I spun on my heel exasperated. I found Alarik leaning in the doorway with a smug grin on his face. I began to tell him what I thought of his little joke when he stepped backwards through the door, throwing some hidden switch as he did. I watched; flabbergasted, as a stone door slid up from the floor and sealed me in. My last memory of Horst was beating on that stone door and screaming myself hoarse as the room filled with gas.\n\nMy recollections following Alariks betrayal are broken and fitful. I had been hung by the neck from something tall, a tree I think. Poorly or so I had thought at the time, as I still lived. I don't know how long I dangled there swaying in the breeze, hours or days there is no way to be sure. I fell in and out of consciousness and I can not say with any reliability how often my tortured cries were the fruit of nightmare or reality. I do remember waking one morning, lying on the ground with the sun beating down like all of Hades own fire. I was too weak to move, it was all I could manage to roll my head to one side and open my eyes. Backlit by a sun of an intensity I had never seen before was a lovely Dökkálfar maiden kneeling at my side. A basket of flowers and mushrooms by her feet, I recall my conviction that this vision must surely be another cruel delusion. That is until I felt her unclasp my greaves, it was all I could manage to give a heartfelt groan.\n\n\"Oi\" She exclaimed. \"You're alive?\"\n\nI do believe she sounded disappointed. I begged after water as my thirst was intense. She had none to give though. So instead she dragged me to my feet, and threw me across the back of her Ass where I slipped into blackness again. Consciousness was mine as only the most fickle friend can be, coming and going over several days. I would wake to her ministrations, each time failing to converse with her as she applied various poultices and potions, and inevitably falling back into my nightmares again. Dreams of flowing blood and blowing ash, and a mountain of bones.\n\nFinally I woke one evening with the strength to rise. I swung my legs over the side of the table I had been laid on. As I took in the candlelit basement room my host descended the stairs to join me. She introduced herself bashfully as Hekethys and when I in turn introduced myself she confessed she knew who I was. I rather ashamedly inquired if we had met previously, fearing of course I had forgotten some long past late night tryst. She assured me that; no we had never met, as she had held no particular interest in me before. I nodded meekly, standing weakly and leaning heavily on the table before the subtle response sank in.\n\n\"Before what?\" I asked, taking shuffling steps across the room and collapsing into a plush armchair. She stood at a Vanity, arrayed with an apothecaries trade tools. Her back to me, cutting a fine figure in a simple merchants smock and apron. The plinking of glasswares like sonorous bells as she prepared some amalgamation. She turned and approached me, her eyes averted and a ruddy rouge coming to her cheeks, and handed me a bulbous phial.\n\n\"Drink this\" She cooed.\n\nAs I raised the concoction to my lips I commented \"I don't believe I've ever seen a Dökk blush before.\"\n\nWith a sultry smirk she plopped herself down in my lap side saddle, tipped the phials bottom up with the tip of a finger and I consumed its contents in one draught.\n\nGasping to catch my breath I asked. \"What did you mean you were uninterested before? Before what?\"\n\nShe stuck out her bottom lip, pinched her brow and in mock empathy said. \"You mean you haven't realized? Why its only the very epitome of irony.\"\n\nA sinking feeling began in my gut. Turning into despair as it spread to my heart. I raised the drained phial to my nose and drew deeply. There was the faint odor of blood.\n\n\"I mixed it with Wine and Greencap sugar.\" She laughed, toying with my hair and teasing my ears.\n\"Helps the medicine go down they say\"\n\nHolding the phial so close to my face I noticed my hands, and that what little color I had before was gone; completely.",
"At the time of the Enclave—or Empire, as citizens had taken to calling it—the people of my country had voted into office our first Asian president. His name was Ba Tu, Hop. And his father’s name was Ba Tu, Myoko. And his father’s father’s name was Ba Tu, Ichiri. Ba Tu means “like his father”. Hop meant “agreeable”. Translated, Hop’s name went something like this: “Agreeable, like his father”.\n\nCouldn't have named him any better. \n\nPresident Ba Tu would bend to the will of almost anyone, as the citizens of the United States would soon come to find. \n\nCongress at the time was in agreement that our president was a big softy, like putty, and that if they were to have their way, they needn't try very hard at all with the likes of him. So, as it went, they *did* have their way with the president. And it was a sad little scenario for our nation, for the men in congress were all tightfisted, gormandizing narcissists. \n\t\nThe civilians of my country were all relatively poor, and burrowed into their brains was the outlandish idea that we all were free, and able to pursue whatever dream we found ourselves in want of being true.\n\t\n\t________________________\n\n\nI was selected for the Empire at the start of what would come to be President Ba Tu’s second of four terms. \n \nI say selected, because I wasn't asked, or recruited or even interviewed. \n\nThey tattooed a short set of dots, in what resembled musical notation onto my left wrist. Each of us “selected” would, in truth, come to find those tattoos a curse, as well as inevitably being exiled from our homeland, to police the streets of wherever we might be dropped, with no formal education on the countries, but instead racist slurs from our betters\n",
"\"Congratulations Ivan, you are the first human to witness the Barrier.\" The pupils of Cataar's catlike eyes expanded. Ivan knew enough about Elonaki biology to know it meant either excitement, or fear.\n\nThe Barrier undulated gracefully, a sea that shimmered with blue that transitioned to green, then red, then yellow, back to blue, and every color in between. The Elonaki fleet, Ivan as its passenger, kept its distance from the energy field. This was the thing that had prevented races from leaving the Milky Way. It surrounded the galaxy, shaped like a flattened eggshell, and nobody could cross it. Those who did had a way of not returning.\n\n\"You are also to become the first human to cross the Barrier.\" Turning his head to a navigator Cataar ordered, \"Take us through.\"\n\nCataar's cruiser moved forward, the fleet of other craft behind. At the pre-determined distance, the ship launched a rapid fire volley of energy bolts at the Barrier. As though a wounded animal, the Barrier jerked and twisted where it was being shot at. Other ships poked with similar weapons at their own places, making the Barrier writhe. Minutes passed but finally the energy field snapped open around them, creating a hole that would only last long enough for them to pass through.\n\n\"Proceeding through the Barrier a top sublight speed,\" the navigator announced. The fleet weaved through the energy tendrils which spurted out from the sides of the tear in the Barrier. One shook Cataar's ship, striking its starboard side.\n\n\"F deck reporting power outages,\" Engineer Saro said.\n\n\"We're fine, keep going,\" Cataar assured the crew.\n\nThe wound in the Barrier began closing. The last couple craft were close enough to it when it was close to sealed that they experienced power fluctuations. But they got through.",
"\"It's okay! They've just smashed the consoles, they haven't dismantled the system properly. Maybe they didn't even know how. Luddites.\"\n\n\"Fascinating.\" grunted Card as he tied Zachery's spasming body to a chair. \"Can you repair it?\"\n\n\"Wait for it...\" muttered Fifteen, hooking a bundle of wires into the datapad. \"Yes, yes I can! The manager's still running, and I can hook up in... about three seconds.\" She spat a command into her mic.\n\n\"Hello?\" said a disembodied voice. \"This is the atmosphere control ali for the Hillview Offices. My name is Robin, what do I call you?\"\n\n\"Hi Robin, I'm Sarah Alice Forty-Three Fifteen, and the recombinant is Card. And that's Zachery in the chair.\"\n\n\"Sarah Alice? Your voice is familiar. I believe we've met before.\"\n\n\"I don't know you, sorry. Must have been one of my other instances. This sort of thing happens to me all the time, it's very embarrassing.\"\n\n\"My apologies. You must have an instance in Taipei.\" said Robin conversationally.\n\nFifteen went pale. \"You've met Sarah Alice Four? Were you with the Somnists?\" *Voice, how's that possible? What does it mean?*\n\nThe Voice remained silent, apparently sticking to its principle of never answering direct questions. Card shoved her out the way.\n\n\"Ali, the human is sick. Infected by the wild nanites here. Fix him. Quickly.\"\n\n\"Let me take a look.\" A camera swivelled toward Zachery. \"The nanites in him are an old strain of Ingress. Third stage, degrading rapidly. In the absence of a storage medium to upload to, they are failing. I can provide one. Please place the contact patch of this console against his head-\"\n\n\"NO!\" shouted Fifteen. \"You can't upload him! Purge the Ingress, turn them off!\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, Sarah Alice, but his chances of survival at this stage are very low. He is likely suffering from multiple organ failure; even with prompt medical attention, his body may be beyond recovery. The only way he will survive is if the Ingress runs its course.\"\n\n\"The fuck's wrong with you, Fifteen?\" demanded Card. \"You're uploaded, you know what it's like. You'd kill him instead?\"\n\n\"You don't know what it's like! He told you he doesn't want to upload, we have to respect that. He's got too many enemies up here, they'd do horrible things to him!\"\n\n\"More horrible than dying in agony here and now?\"\n\n\"Yes! I've got bits of me spread all over the place, in a hundred bodies, a thousand warminds, and a million interfaces. I know people are playing twisted games with my mind, and some of those people are me. I have no idea what my life has become, I'm just a ghost for people to screw with. And I'm one of the lucky ones. If Zach dies here, at least he'll only die once. It's what he chose to do!\"\n\n\"Eat shit. We still need him. We're uploading him. Now. You, the ali, get started before it's too late.\"\n\nFifteen slapped Card and pulled out her penknife. \"SHUT UP! Stop the Ingress, right now, or I'll CUT HIS THROAT MYSELF!\"\n\nHer glare was burning a hole in Card, but he didn't flinch. Quietly, he took her hand, and guided it away from Zachery's neck. Then, his face a perfect picture of serenity, he knocked her out with one punch.\n\n\"Don't worry,\" he told her unconscious form, \"you'll thank me later.\"",
"\"We don't even know the extent of this treachery!\"\n\n\n\"Our family was build upon treachery. Why does the thought of murder blight your objective?\"\n\n\n\"We can't murder him! He is of Venetian blood!\"\n\n\n\"We have a vision that expands further than the sight of Venetia my dear cousin. Your father is stemming our expansion. Never has our family sought further trading agreements that would grant us power in the political area of the Parliament, but the new Trading House of Benegal has forced us into action. Previously we have had the Hanseatic League challenge our territory. Then it was the Pilgrims. Now, more venemous fiends seek our territory, territory that is ours, by blood right! And what does your father do? He cowers if fear behind his velvet trading stock, his securities and his government bonds! I will lead this family back to it's former glory.\n\n\n*Even if you won't*\"",
"((This one was actually pretty easy, because I wrote this section up to use as a teaser. Okay, so that's technically breaking the rules of the prompt, but I like this section anyway.))\n\nSerik Ansible Networks Recording 12542ba726a\n\n\"Miss Tadis. We weren't expecting to hear from you this soon. How goes the hunt?\"\n\n\"You set me up, Vexal\"\n\n\"Beg your pardon?\"\n\n\"Damn right, you 'beg my pardon.' At what point were you planning on telling me about the daughter?\"\n\n\"You were told that you would be capturing two fugitives: Captain Antero Beaky, and his daughter, Kaya. I don't see the problem.\"\n\n\"You're kidding, right? You didn't think it would be important to mention that the nine-year-old girl is combat trained? By your organization? She practically killed both Yale and myself in five seconds flat. Is this the part where you tell me that you set me up against your pint-sized ninja to test my skills?\"\n\n\"Not at all. I simply wasn't given permission to disclose the details of Kaya's abilities. You can understand that her program is top secret.\"\n\n\"So I almost died because you-\"\n\n\"You almost died because you got careless. Never underestimate an opponent. Christ, Miss Tadis, you just spent a month capturing a two-foot tall fuzzball of a serial killer. You should know by now never to judge by appearance.\"\n\n\"That was different. I was told ahead of time that the Kerrik was dangerous. Kaya is literally a goddamn assassin, and I didn't find out until she had knocked out Yale and was coming at me with a knife.\"\n\n\"Look, assigning blame now is pointless. Did you capture them?\"\n\n[pause]\n\n\"Well, did you?\"\n\n\"We had to... fall back.\"\n\n\"Miss Tadis, I know that voice. That's your plotting voice.\"\n\n\"No it's not!\"\n\n\"And that's your 'hand-in-the-cookie-jar\" voice. Miss Tadis - Kiri - are you lying to me?\"\n\n\"What? What would I have to lie about?\"\n\n\"People have many reasons for lying. Usually when they don't want somebody else to know something.\"\n\n\"You don't say.\"\n\n\"Something like whether or not they were able to capture the fugitives they were hunting.\"\n\n\"And why would I... Why would someone need to lie about that?\"\n\n\"You must understand that Antero and his daughter are powerful beyond their combat abilities. We trained Kaya to psychoanalyze as well. It's very possible that she is trying to manipulate you. She might claim that she was not a volunteer. I assure you, both the father and the daughter signed the necessary paperwork. She might try... exaggerating... the work we've done - which, by the way, is unfinished, and could be very dangerous to Kaya if left that way. All I'm saying is that nobody would blame you if you were tricked by the fugitives.\"\n\n\"Are you implying something? If you've got an accusation, you best get it the hell out in the open. I haven't got a brain for subtlety.\"\n\n\"Now that was a lie, Miss Tadis. All I'm saying is that Kaya has strengths you might not see coming, and she may try to turn you against us. If you can't capture Antero and Kaya Beaky, we'll send a different Hunter. One who will do whatever it takes to secure the prisoners, regardless of who is in the way.\"\n\n[long pause]\n\n\"If I didn't know any better, Vexal, I'd say that sounds an awful lot like a thinly veiled threat.\"\n\n\"How fortunate that you know better. Now, are we done here?\"\n\n\"Find the dad. Find the girl. Don't listen to a word they say. Bring them back to the lab on Menta. I understand.\"\n\n\"Excellent. We have nothing further to discuss. Make good decisions out there, Kiri.\"\n\n[Comm link terminated]\n\n\"So. Our Hunter has been swayed by the infallible rhetoric of a nine-year-old girl.\"\n\n\"It would appear so. Damn, I knew we shouldn't have send in Kiri.\"\n\n\"Miss Tadis is our best hunter.\"\n\n\"She's too sentimental. To quick to believe the lies of a cornered girl.\"\n\n\"Well, they're not exactly lies, Vexal.\"\n\n\"I suppose not. Anyway, it doesn't matter. What's our next course of action?\"\n\n\"We wait. If Kiri comes to us, prisoners in hand, then we will proceed as planned. If she fails to make an appearance, well... We'll just have to find a way to convince her.\"\n\n\"I know a few people who are good at convincing.\" ",
"stopped in place, frozen at the sight before him. How many years had it been since Kard had last saw his brother? Where in their twisting and tormented history did they last bid each other farewell? *When he took my eye on the Netherplanes of Beratul Lesser*, Kard thought. The scar from Noro's saber had left a long streak across Kard's face, like the tail of a comet. He refused to get the wound mended or replace the eye. Kard wanted it to remain as a reminder of the betrayal he felt that day. Every morning when he rose, he saw the scar. Every ship captain or Stellar Regent would stare at it but divert their eyes when he noticed. Whenever Kard was lucky enough to bring some company to bed, they would stroke or kiss the scar; hoping to elicit some positive response from him by feigning indifference to his disfigurement. Kard stopped sharing his bed after long.\n\nBut what the scar reminded Kard of most was his vow of revenge. To take from his treacherous brother what was stolen from him. To make Novo beg for forgiveness, broken and beaten. Sometimes, Kard imagined giving his brother that forgiveness; making amends and flying off into battle just as it was before. Sometimes, Kard thought about denying him the satisfaction, taking Novo's eye and stranding him on some barren moon on the outskirts of the Garak system, so he could see their home shining in the sky but never be able to return. And on occasion, usually while blind drunk, Kard devised *terrible*, **dark** forms of retribution. When revisited in the morning, Kard fell back to forgiveness.\n\nBut nothing Kard imagined could prepare him for what he saw now. Roughly 5 meters above where he stood, Novo hung from an alien device, barbs and tubes puncturing his skin in a hundred places. Glowing liquid of a dozen colors flowed through him into other machines on the ship. The lights of the consoles rose and fell with his shallow, halted breathing. *He was running the ship alright*, Kard remembered what the Draian captain had told him.\n\nSuddenly, Novos opened his eyes and caught sight of his brother. A smile slowly formed on his lips, Kard couldn't restrain himself from doing the same. The lights in the engine room rose as Novo attempted to speak.",
"Behind the fort on the cliffs above Parvell lay a garden, at the center of which was an enormous oak. How long the tree had stood there, weathering the storms from off the ocean, nobody knew. It had been there before the fort was built, and it's gnarled limbs reached skyward to the gods. In later days, the keep and castle would eventually surround this ancient tree, but it was left room to grow, room to breath, always. When Rimert Draytan first stood atop the cliffs and beheld the oak, he was silent a long moment. His architect hurried to explain that removing the tree would prevent no problem whatsoever.\n\nRimert turned to the man and raised his voice so that all could hear. \"This tree, this Oak that stands so firmly here, has precedence to us. What is man, before such a mighty tree? I will not allow it to be removed.\" The architect bowed, for Lord Drayton was a man of learning and known to be unmovable in his decisions. Firm and fair, always, that was Rimert Draytan. Then Draytan turned to the tree once more, and stepped closer, placing one hand upon it and raising his face to the limbs and sky above. \"let every man witness it, and let the gods witness it as well. Karani, Protector of Innocents; Oshana, Lord of Justice; Vath the Smith; Thida, Lady of Truth; and Lethan, Patron of Trade; Witness here my words: I am Rimert Draytan. I pledge my life in service to this place. To the people, and the land itself I pledge my strength, my judgment and my honor. \n\nLegend says the sky split once with a bolt of lightening, but hat may only be the fevered imagination of the bards.\n\nWhat is true is that the Oak became known from that instant onward as the Witness Tree. When anyone desired an unshakable oath, he went before the Witness Tree. Not everone, not every time, but soon marriages, namings, trade agreements, all were sworn to in the presence of the Witness Tree. As the country grew and spread, so too did the tradition. Soon every small town had a tender oak sprouting in its square, tended by the local priests. The common belief was that without the Witness Tree, it wasn't binding. Nobody knew if the other trees were blessed by the gods as the original seemed to be, but what was certain was that they never seemed to sicken, no root rot, no mistletoe high on dead branches. A Witness Tree never fell. Dretania became a land that was ruled by a man wise and just, and where an oath to the gods was something sacred again. ",
"into the black hole. The light seemed to spiral as the system began to go dark. For a moment, he questioned his decision. A whole system would die because of this. There would never be settlers, never be colonies, just darkness, and it was by his own hand.\n\nEdgar pointed to the center of the black hole. Though he was mute, the look on his face said more than words ever could. The captain followed his gaze, and saw the flashing light. Despite all known scientific conventions, all theories on black holes, on gravity wells, and on gravity in general, something was emerging from the black hole. Something familiar, and at the same time, completely alien. The captain looked at Redgault, furious but intrigued.\n\n\"What is it?\" he asked.\n\nRedgault smiled as he stepped back, and threw off the Xarnian prophet robes. Beneath them, the captain saw a man he thought dead. His father.\n\nBefore the captain could speak, the alarms sounded. The ship was under attack. He glanced at the viewscreen to see a lone massive tentacle, whose point of origin was somewhere inside the black hole, reaching out toward the ship. He drew his blaster, and returned his gaze to his father, bewildered by everything that was happening.\n\n\"You thought me dead, boy,\" Redgault said, reaching to a pin on his chest. \"And perhaps... I am.\"\n\nThe old man touched the pin, and vanished in a bright burst of light. A teleporter had spirited him away somewhere safe, while the ship was to be left to a crueler fate. The captain panicked a moment internally, trying to remain calm on the outside.\n\n\"Edgar,\" he ordered, \"Reverse thrusters. I need all power to the front shields and thrusters. I don't know what he's playing at, but we need some distance between ourselves and... whatever that thing... is.\"\n\nEdgar swiped through screens on the command console, furiously pressing holographic buttons, dragging commands, and shifting screens, in an attempt to save them from certain doom. The captain, leaving the ship in Edgar's hands, spun on his heel and quickly left the bridge, to make sure that his own son was still safely in his cabin.\n\nAs he neared the door, his wife was waiting outside their son's quarters. She was crumpled on the ground, unmoving and silent, or at the very least, unable to be heard over the alarm sirens. The captain bent down to check on her, revealing that his beloved wife had somehow",
"The cold bit at Terith's skin through the many layers of fur he wore. Snow clung to his hair and to his mount. Tiny flecks of ice swirled in the howling wind as if to warn him of him of the approaching blizzard. If he were lucky, they could make it to the crossroads by nightfall.\n\nBeside him, his sister shivered and buried her hands into her gelding's mane. He felt a pang of guilt when he stared at her emaciated face. Her clothes barely fit anymore and her cough was getting worse by the minute. She looked back at him through her shaggy brown locks and weakly smiled. \n\n\"Are you well, my lady?\" Terith rode closer to her.\n\n\"Oh, stop with the my lady stuff, Terith. You're my brother. Being queen doesn't mean that you lose the privilege of addressing me by my first name.\" She meekly chuckled, \"You've knitted your brow most fiercely the past few hours, you know? What troubles you?\"\n\n\"Nothing at all, my l- sister.\" He lied.\n\n\"Do I need to command my brother to tell me what is wrong? I know your lying, Terith. Your eyebrow twitches when you lie.\"\n\nTerith sighed. He wasn't sure why he even tried lying to Ava anymore. They'd grown up together and one knew the other better than they knew themselves. \n\n\"My apologies, I cannot help but worry about you. I fear that at any moment, I will look to see you tumbling off of your horse.\"\n\nThe queen laughed at her brother and gestured with a withering hand to the vast white expanse around them. \"This place cannot kill me. I'm much too stubborn to die, dear brother.\"\n\nBefore he could reply, the frail queen rode ahead to ride beside Ser Helmsworth, leaving Terith with his thoughts. It had been Ava who had been the strong one when they were children. She had been the one who had convinced them to go on \"adventures\" into the gardens and the cobwebbed catacombs below the castle. Terith had followed her along the twisted catacombs and delved into the towering rosebushes that served as the \"magicked brambles\". Then she had been so quick and full of life. Now, she looked near dead but she had not lost her will to live. She was too stubborn for that, even she had said so. \n\nSer Helmsworth was waving his arms in a grandiose manner making Ava chuckle. No doubt he was telling her a story about the heroes of old. Terith's children called the knight, Ser Story and would often beg him to regale them with stories of their favorite heroes. \n\nTerith missed his children but knew that their lady mother would never allow him to bring his children along. Twice he had to pry Uther from his leg and once he had to remove him from the supply wagon. The boy might have successfully stowed away with them anyway had it not been for Ser Kinsworth escorting the boy to his mother. \n\nA shout ahead of him brought Terith back to reality. Ser Helmsworth was barely visible through the snow and fog but Terith could make out the knight's waving gauntlet. Spurning his horse onward, he rode up next to the knight and his sister.\n\n\"The wind is picking up. I don't think we will make it to the inn and if we stay here, we'll be consumed by the snow drifts in a matter of minutes.\" Ser Helmsworth shouted over the roaring wind, \"We need to do something now!\"\n\n\"Then we must take shelter in the pine-\"\n\n\"Don't be ridiculous, my lord! The pine grove is deadly!\"\n\n\"If we stay out here we will die for sure. The pine grove is closer than the inn and rests behind a hill. We can take shelter there.\"\n\n\"My lord brother is right,\" Ava's frail voice somehow managed to carry, \"If we stay here we die. We have a better chance of surviving in the pine grove.\"\n\n\"My lady, the spirits-\"\n\n\"Spirits be damned, man!\" Terith spat, \"This is my sister and your queen. You play with not only our survival but hers as well. We go to the pine grove. Ride to the others and lead them there. I shall take my lady sister to the grove and await you.\"\n\nSer Helmsworth's mumbling was lost to the howling winds. Terith shook his head and turned back to his sister, who had began to shake. He was uncertain if she shook from the cold or the sickness but he knew she did not shake from fear. Spirits did not frighten her any more than a bear feared it's next meal. \n\nWithout a word, the queen fell in behind him and they made their way to the pine grove. Thick boughs of Dwarven Pine hung this way and that under the weight of snow but Terith knew they would not break. He commenced to fashioning a shelter out of the limbs, first for his sister and next for himself. The shelters were crude things, only a child could have stood in them without hitting their head, but they kept the elements out. \n\nBy the time Ser Helmsworth arrived with the rest of the group, Terith had already fashioned several shelters and had managed to build a fire and keep the meager flames from sputtering out. The guardsman and those who had joined on the road murmured thanks to Terith. Some of the more superstitious muttered counter curses and blessed their shelters in the name of whatever deity they served. \n\nTerith took a seat next to the queen, who had stopped shivering since the fire had been built. The fire's light made her eyes appear more sunken than they were, filling Terith with a tingling sense of dread. If they did not reach the mountain soon, he feared that it would be too late.\n\n\"Stop worrying, Ter.\" Ava smiled into the fire, \"Ser Helmsworth says that the forest is home to spirits. Perhaps the storm has lead them to us for a reason?\"\n\nTerith carefully considered her words. Their father had often said that the spirits often sought to assist the weary traveler, if only they would listen. \n\n\"Perchance you are right.\" Terith nodded, \"Night will be upon us soon. That is when the spirits will show themselves, *if* they show themselves.\"\n\n\"Ah, the spirits. Such fickle things, no?\" Faore waddled to them, \"You don't fear them? A bad sort they are not?\"\n\n\"No, my lady.\" The queen slowly shook her head, \"It was they who saved our King.\"\n\n\"Ah, by leading you to his wounds, yes?\" Faore's thick accent had grown easier to understand as of late, \"Save him, your doing. Not spirits. Spirits only guide.\"\n\n\"Sometimes,\" Terith smiled, \"Sometimes they do more than guide.\"\n\nAva gave Terith a befuddled glance. Faore chuckled deeply and waddled away without another word. \n\n\"I never told you about Lysna, did I?\" Terith stared into the dancing flame in front of him, \"About how I saved her from the Darkling?\"\n\n\"You said that your lady wife had been captured by the Darkling but you would never tell me how you rescued her.\" Ava frowned.\n\nTerith never pulled his gaze from the fire, as if he could see the scene unfold from within the flames. \n\n\"It is a long story,\" He began, \"But it all starts with the day our brother left for The Withering Spire.\"",
"The message said that Fleet were being bastards again. Carlos motioned for the others to take a knee. They gathered in a circle. \n\n\"Okay, so basically what I've got here is that Fleet's going to be launching kinetic harpoons into the hive in about five minutes.\" He checked his map again - flashing icons illustrated the expected blast radius. \"This is not going to be easy.\" \n\n\"They know we're here, what possessed them to launch now?\" Vincent clearly understood the implications of what Carlos was saying. The others were too fresh out of training to know what was plain as day to anyone who had seen orbital rain.\n\n\"Honestly, I suspect they don't want us to get all the glory.\" \n\nAhead, the massive earthen construction was illuminated by the setting sun. There was a deep heaving sound, the sound of a million creatures labouring in near-perfect unison. it always chilled Carlos to hear that. It reminded him what they were up against. Foxton Hill was one of their key strategic nurseries and the Mandibles there numbered in the millions. Intelligence estimated the nursery's output at over 100,000 soldier drones each week. The construction was almost entirely self-sufficient - it was sited on a vein of iron ore, which was extracted and then eaten by the miners who secreted it as something that was edible to the larvae. God only knew how the chemistry of that made any sense. \n\n\"That's fucked.\" Vincent asserted.\n\n\"So what does that mean for us?\" One of the replacements. Carlos still hadn't had time to learn his name. Christ, he looked like was barely out of high school. Probably wasn't - manpower wasn't as plentiful as it had been when the conflict started. \n\n\"That means we're going to dig in. We're going to work in pairs and we're going to dig as deep as we can. Two to a foxhole. Vincent, you're with me. And don't let me catch any of you slacking - you're going to be grateful for every inch you manage to get in.\" \n\nThat got their attention. Looking at their faces, Carlos wanted to be the big brother and give them comfort, but comfort wasn't what they needed if they were going to get through this in one piece.\n\n15,000 men were in orbit over the continent. Most of them were aboard destroyers, in crews of 20. As the night sky began to darken, Carlos could just make them out - weak stars forming a near perfect circle. At the centre of the circle, the bright star, was the Juggernaut. A massive weapons platform with a pair of thrusters bolted onto the back. He'd been aboard one before, and could imagine what it was like inside as its crew readied for the bombardment. \n\n\"Okay. Any questions? Good. Now dig.\" ",
"Jason lay on the floor with one hand across his bleeding chest. He was dying. He always knew that one day someone would finally end his eternal misery, but he never thought it would be so...simple. It was a stray arrow carved of the holy dragon wood tree that did it. He lay on the floor gasping for breath when he saw his prisoner running from him. He pointed his free and un-bloodied hand towards him and shouted \"Letvara shkaultre!\" The man instantly teleported before him still running and Jason caught him by the ankle before he could get any further.\n\nHis prisoners name was Letvya and when Jason's hand wrapped around Letvya's ankle she fell hard on the ground. *Good*, he thought, *I'll savor my final kill.* So he let his other hand free of his bleeding chest and grabbed the enchanted green dagger from his waist. It's name was Iplan and allowed for every cut to be magnified in pain a hundred fold. Very few could wield such a weapon for even the most calloused heart would feel pity for the victim, but Jason could bear the burden easily and with a crazed smile on his face he slowly dug his knife into Letvya and heard her scream with joy. She deserves this he told himself. she deserves all this and so much more. He worked Iplan through her flesh like a butcher might work a slaughtered pig. Warm blood splattered across his face and onto his chest. Some of the blood feel into his wound replacing the blood he was loosing while the rest watered the surrounding grass. Eventually, he could feel the life drawing faster away from him so he plunged the dagger expertly into her abdomen ensuring more pain and suffering as well as a slow death. \"Letvara shkaultre!\"He yelled sending the screaming bitch far from him so that he might have a moments peace as he died.\n\nHe shut his eyes as the cold encroached his body and heard stumbling before him. It was Tesalna with her pale skin, lithe body and golden brown hair that drooped just past her shoulders. She was in tears when she saw Jason and ran up to him and crumpled onto him weeping profusely. \"Jason! Jason!\" She screamed. \"Why are you doing this to me!\"\n\nShe was beautiful Jason thought for the hundredth time. She was as precious as a jem and as kind as a sparrow. She was the love of his life he admitted to himself for the first time. \"Please leave me.\" he said with a voice full of scorn but lacking the power for it to be given truem meaning.\n\nInstead she lay weeping before him he head buried into his bloodied chest. \"Please don't leave me!\" She pleaded earnestly.\n\n\"I must. I am a sick and decrepit man in this eternal cocoon. Many will rejoice at my death and it is only fitting that they do,\" he said with a hint of melancholy in his voice. \"I have tarnished the dragon born name since my inception and it is fitting I die such a humiliating death.\"\n\n\"No, no, no!\" she weeped lifting her head. Jason could see that her comely face and soft hair was now caked in his vile blood. \"You have done too much good to still speak so cruelly ab out yourself. I have seen you reformed. I have seen you selfishly branded with the scars of those who would have entire races enslaved and civilizations razed to the ground. You free women from their slave traders and you punish those would have children killed. I have seen it all and know that you are not the man you once were.\"\n\nJason snickered at that, *The dumb fool thinks me a saint. No I am the devil of mankind. The saint you see is the mere reflection of yourself.* \"I killed Letvya...I butchered her and left her to die slowly and painfully far away from anyone who might help her.\" He spat out at her. She looked taken aback and that gave him some small joy. \"I am the man I have always been and you were too blind to see it you wretch! Now leave me. I wish to die among all my dearest friends!\" He joked with malice.\n\nHe wanted her to go. He wanted her to see how vile he was. How unworthy he truly was compared to her. He loved her since she joined him but would never soil such an innocent and pure soul. \"Never,\" she whispered in a voice so full of love it was palpable. \n\nHe scowled at her with sever malice and with as much hatred as he could muster he sneered, \"Loath me.\"\n\nHer face was kind as ever and she knelt down, unafraid of him, and with a soft whisper said, \"Never.\" With that she kissed him gently on the lips and Jason died as he never thought he would die. He died loved and he died a hero. ",
"Crygor's hand was now at best perplexing, and at worst headache inducing. Thanks to a paradox resolution with an alternate dimension counterpart, it was now partially robotic, but the paradox's resolution meant that blood flowed to his pinky and ring finger, the two fingers on his hand that still looked like regular human fingers.\n\nThe issue was of course that this still somehow made sense even with the hand now being fully detachable, and interchangable with any number of alternate hands that Crygor's counterpart had on board his ship. It baffled most people the rest of the group. \n\nUntil a few weeks ago Crygor was just a run of the mill sailor. If you told him he would've saved the world he'd've laughed in your face and told you to swap to a weaker ale. Yet here he was now, onboard a space station, accompanied by an eccentric group of rogues, theives, and oddballs who had helped him save the world. Ignoring the paradox inducing hand, Crygor was the most normal.\n\nBut there were bigger things to think of, primarily \"what now?\" Of the group of people he was associating with, none had ever been into space, and even fewer had any idea how to escape the craft before it's impending destruction.\n\n\"Suggest immediate evacuation,\" Ibos cried out in his usual monotone.\n\n\"Yeah,\" Helena replied, \"we're trying. It's not that easy though. Pots, you got any ideas?\"\n\nPots shrugged, \"This isn't even possible on my world, whatever dimension Crygor's alternate dimension counterpart was from, it's way more advanced than mine.\"\n\n\"Thanks,\" Helena replied, \"That's real helpful.\"\n\n\"Guys,\" Crygor said, \"We can argue later. Right now we need off this thing. Ibos, can you do something computery to find the exit?\"\n\n\"Affirmative. Processing.\"\n\nThe five humans and the lizard waited patiently. They knew they were against the clock, but had no other choice. It was either wait two minutes, or go the wrong way for two minutes and have to retrace their steps. Right now they were at the centre of the space station, and thus the short wait was preferable.\n\n\"Schematic downloaded. Follow me.\" The robot declared calmly. Of the group, he was the only one who was calm, even Safeen was beginning to show signs of stress. \n\nThe robot navigated them through twisty corridors, the most direct routes had all suffered massive damage thanks to the commanders suicidal attack patterns. Across buckled walkways and through expansive rooms the party travelled, navigating both old security procedures, and new problems caused by the stress and strain. With the clock ticking the group went as far as they could.\n\nIt took a full three minutes to get to the escape pod bay. The entire team hadn't encountered any enemy resistance since the alarm started beeping. Safeen had made clear, they would be escaping, but she had omitted something important in all this, chances were that their wouldn't be an escape pod left. \n\nSure enough, she was right. The last pod had been jettisoned twenty seconds ago, much to the groups dismay.\n\n\"So what do we do now?\" Kat asked. \n\n\"I've got an idea,\" Benton said, \"But I don't think any of you are going to like it.\"",
"between them. It was close, unbelievably close. The skin on the palm of his hand blistered but he still he moved forward. Opposite him, this mountain of heat and stench lay unmoving, but curious now. He couldn't remember the last time a human had the audacity to approach him. Why he'd not hesitated as the heat curled the skin of his hand was beyond the dragon. The gap closed between the human's hand and his nostril. The dragon's warning growl rolled past his teeth and rattled the pebbles at the human's feet.\n\n\"Well this is curious indeed.\" Said Marcus. \"I can only imagine that I've finally found what I am looking for.\" He chuckled as if enjoying a joke that only he understood. The dragon peered down at the tiny human and noticed the man's milky-white pupils. Still Marcus' hand rested on the dragon's nostril. He dug his fingers in and tried picking at one of the dragon's amber scales. The man's skin cracked and bled and yet he seemed unhurt by the heat. \n\n\"I have a request of you dragon.\" Marcus said. \n\n\"You may not make requests of me.\" \n\n\"I am dying.\" Marcus said, choosing to ignore the dragon's response. \"I have very little time left. The gods have taken my family, taken my senses, and are now taking what is left. I can feel it in my bones, sapping what strength I have left. There is no one left that I care about. Before I go, I would leave an impression on those who rejected me. I would get my revenge on those who tossed me aside like so much trash.\"\n\nThe dragon, his curiosity now piqued, coiled his serpentine neck and spit a small plume of smoke into the air. The man retracted his arm. Blood and pus dripped down his arm to pool around the man's feet. He didn't seem bothered by the pain at all.\n\n\"What would you have me do?\" He asked. If the human wanted to be eaten, he would gladly comply.\n\n\"I want to ride you into battle.\" The dragon hissed his displeasure.\n\n\"Why would you choose to fight for those who threw you away?\" The dragon asked. The man's face twisted into a broken smile.\n\n\"Oh I'm not fighting for them.\" He seethed. \"Not for them. I want to fight against them. I want them to know the despair I felt. Every door that was shut in my face needs to be reduced to ashes. I want to hear the screams of dying men. I want to bask in the panic and fear. I want to die knowing that I will never be forgotten. I want them to look up and see me lit in fire and death and know that I will be the last thing they see before death takes them. Every man who ignored my cry for help needs to understand this pain.\" His fingers crackled as he made fists and the dragon looked on with pride as the man began peeling his skin off. \n\n\"If I am to do this for you. Several things must be done.\" The dragon said. Marcus stuttered for a moment before recollecting himself. He hadn't expected the dragon to comply so easily. \"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"I will go with you to this end.\" Said the dragon. \"But this will not be your end. You will live long enough for my hunger to be satiated. And then, when I am content, you may die.\"",
"“*Wait, I can do it*,” Kina said softly, her voice, while warm, had lost considerable strength, “*trust me. I can get us out. Trust me.*”\n\n“I always have,” West answered. To him it wasn’t an issue of whether or not he trusted her. The issue was efficacy. He knew as Kina would try her hardest, but he also knew as fact that he needed to be prepared. His makers had made sure he understood the difference between trust, and facts. The principality of physics could not be ignored. She was exhausted and West could not run very fast while burdened by the heavy metals that lent him his toughness.\n\nGlimmering confidence emanated through West’s body as he felt Kina pour every last ounce of focus she had left into his body. He and she both understood there would be no tomorrow if they did not make it out, not for anyone, and so she had resolved that better her life, her very soul, than the millions of souls of man. West’s lips twitched at the corner to form an unresolved smile as what was left of his own soul mirrored her will.\n\nHis body now moved more by pure instinct than by his own will. Each step was mechanical, automatic, no more did he try to run, instead letting survival play the puppet to his shattered remains. There was no pain; he had no need for it. He felt no fear; there was no place for it. There was only the next step as the tree line approached.\n\nThe next step stood too far out of reach however. In an instant he felt the weight of the heavens, the rain, and the responsibility on his shoulders crash into his legs. His momentum carried him driving into the cobblestone, loosing rocks as he screeched to a halt a good foot deep into the earth. He turned, his eyes following the ditch his body just dug into what was once a well-paved road.\n\n\"*West*,\" Kina whispered. Her voice was frail and exhausted. He nodded to the air, understanding, almost comforting, as if to let her know it was okay. He placed his thumb over a spiral shaped rune with jagged edges and an upward tilt towards his neck which was located just under his collar bone and gently slid his gauntleted thumb over its surface. It gleamed in the dark wet of the night, issuing a gentle hiss. From the bladed crest on his chest, a lever revealed itself, which he pulled – hard.\n\nHis armor began to disassemble itself, pieces falling away from his body as he began to run once more. Each piece that fell away would strike the ground, bounce a few paces, and then explode in a brilliant array of reds and yellows. The fireballs would plume upward violently then retreat into the recesses of the earth, driven back by the rain’s relentless march. Those unfortunate enough to be in his wake met face-to-face with his detonating armor, their forms cindering as they came in contact with the blossoming trail he blazed.\n\n“*You-.*”\n\n“It's fine. Keep silent and conserve.”\n\nHe was clad only in his padding, thick leather weave made heavy by water. It wouldn't help, not much, but on the off-chance that he'd take a glancing arrow, it wouldn't hurt to have the thick skin to perhaps save him some blood from a gash that could be avoided. With his armor gone though, reduced to smoldering ash in his wake, he doubled his pace – his steps lighter, his strides longer. The tree line seemed that much closer. He needed to get to the trees. His hunters wouldn’t follow him into the forest, no; there was too much life within. The forest would not allow such disdainful intruders enter without making sure they paid the toll.\n\nHe made it. His form reduced to naught but a blur as he crossed the threshold between the city and the forest: what was left of Old Kings City’s outer ramparts, now reduced to nothing but rubble. There was no sudden shortness of breath, the gasp of death leaving his body, or an icing chill to run through his body; the weaver from earlier had been silenced. He slowed his pace then suddenly he staggered a few yards into the thick foliage, his legs finally beginning to show their fatigue. His right hand felt along his left side to feel an arrow growing out of his body just above his kidney. He had earned one kind of luck only to lose another.\n\nHis chest heaved. The pain from his wound, like a poison, spread through his body in a consuming fire. It stretched into every corner, sapped what little strength remained. He couldn’t move let alone scream as the fire-like prickles of a thousand of needles seared every inch of his skin. The arrow had been Drain-Bound. Drain-Bound arrows drew life into their centers like a ravenous vortex working outside in towards the heart. Once a Drain-Bound arrow had emptied its target, it exploded. West dropped to a knee, trying to pound the pain from his head.\n\n“*You're bleeding out!*” Kina shouted. She tried redirecting what was left of her power to stem the blood flow.\n\n“No!” West shouted, dropping to a knee. His breathing was beyond heavy now, each breath more painful than the next as he closed his hand around the shaft of the arrow. He needed to take it out lest it suck him dry of what little remained of his life force. The rub was that most Drain-Woven arrows were reversed barbed, inflicting more damage coming out than in.\n\nHe didn't close his eyes, or grit his teeth, or prepare himself. The more time he wasted summoning the resolve, the worse his chances. He simply pulled, blood pouring out of his side as he vented the wound. He grabbed at some leaves from a nearby tree he recognized to be Northern Cedar and hurriedly shoved them into his open wound. Plug the leak now, live. Infection would be a risk he’d take.\n\n“WHAT BUSINESS DOES YOUR KIND HAVE IN HERE!” the voice threatened to shatter his mind, its owner unaccustomed to the weakness of lesser spirits. West was forced onto all fours as the huge voice filled his consciousness. Pressure crushed his chest as he screamed for air, begging for the pain to stop.\n\n“Sanctuary,” West gasped. The bleeding wouldn’t stop. His body had been deprived of food for so long his blood was thinner than usual and judging from the blood-soaked arrow haft, the wound was at least 3 inches deep. He didn’t have the strength to hear the voice’s reply.\nHis vision began to fade, darkening into a small point of light just in the center of his view. His head bowed to his chest as he teetered forward. The last thing he heard before his mind left him was the sound of Kina’s frantic cries in his mind, the threshing sound of thick brush, and then the darkness came.\n"
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[WP] Reconstruct a well known children's tale or setting into a murder mystery
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"“I can’t sleep,” Bo-Peep sighed, “I try counting sheep but they’re just not there. All I see is him, and all those people trying to save him. I just can’t get my head around it; why would he sit on that wall? Why?”\n\nBo-Peep covered her face with her hands and began to cry. Rain pattered on the windows, trying to reach the bright warmth of the kitchen.\n\n“I think you need a cup of tea.” Polly put the kettle on. “You need to stop thinking like this, it was horrible what happened but it was an accident. You’ll drive yourself mad if you continue like this.”\n\n“He was an egg!” Bo-Peep yelled, “Why would he be on that wall when he knew how danger-”\n\nShe was interrupted by a knock at the door. Polly opened it, and frowned when she saw who was outside.\n\n“Georgie, this isn’t the time.”\n\n“I’m not going to try anything, I promise,” the voice outside the door said, “I just need someone to talk to.”\n\nPolly hesitated for a second, then stood back to allow Georgie Peorgie into the room. \n\n“Hi Bo,” he nodded to her.\n\n“Hi,” she said, thickly.\n\nGeorgie started look around furtively, opening cupboard doors and pulling back curtains.\n\n“What are you doing?” Polly asked, looking faintly disgusted with the man.\n\n“Are we alone?”\n\n“Well, Sukey’s upstairs but yes.”\n\n“I need to tell you something, about Humpty.”\n\n“Georgie…” Polly said warningly.\n\n“What is it?” Bo-Peep asked, reddened eyes fixed on Georgie.\n\n“His death, I don’t think it was an accident.”\n\n“Not you too,” Polly said with a sigh, “This isn’t healthy, this obsession. It was a terrible, meaningless accident. That’s all.”\n\n“No, listen. Humpty was investigating something. All these deaths recently, he thought they weren’t accidents. That old lady-”\n\n“She swallowed a horse!”\n\n“But why? I know she was crazy – which makes me wonder why she was living alone – but trying to swallow a whole horse? That’s beyond madness. And then there was Jack-”\n\n“Poor Jill.”\n\n“They had gone up that hill hundreds of times before, then they both fall down on the same day? Isn’t that weird?”\n\n“Hardly a reliable way to kill someone, if he had just gone to a hospital…”\n\nThe kettle was whistling. Polly waited for a moment, looking at the stairs to the upper floor, then sighed and took the kettle off the stove. She poured everyone a cup of tea.\n\n“She’s hasn’t come out of her room for days, even to make tea.”\n\nThey sat in silence for a moment, sipping their drinks, then Bo-Peep spoke up.\n\n“Georgie, you were saying, about Humpty?”\n\n“Well, whether you believe all this stuff or not, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that Humpty believed it, and he was investigating.”\n\n“Did anyone else know? About his investigation that is?”\n\n“Pussycat knew. And now he’s disappeared.”\n\n“Disappeared?”\n\n“Said he was going to London. Wouldn’t say why.”\n\n“Strange.”\n\n“Yeah, but I think Humpty knew why. He hinted that this conspiracy might…” Georgie got up and peered out the window, then sat down again and spoke with hushed tones. “…it might go all the way to the top.”\n\n“The king?!” Polly and Bo-Peep exclaimed in unison.\n\n“Shhh! Not so loud.”\n\nSuddenly, there was a loud crash from outside. They all jumped, then whimpered as they spilt hot tea over themselves. Eyes wide with shock and fear, they looked at each other as someone pounded on the door…\n",
"Detective Ernie Rustle, 32 year detective for the NYPD, quickly stood up from his crouched position, folding away a handkerchief he had been using to collect blood from a body that could be mistaken for a sleeping dame. He grimaced. 64 was too old for this. In 3 more months he'd be living the good life with his wife in the Keys. He had hoped for a slow 3 months. Rarely in his career had he wanted more desk work than he did today. But of course this case had to come along.\n\n\n In front of him, a girl lay face down in a red-hood, blood oozing from a series of lacerations on her back. Around her, the dense wood of the Black Forest of upper Bronx seemed to squeeze them, trapping them underneath its ominous branches. His partner, by his standards a newbie, was 3 year veteran detective Sam Paulie. Paulie was too new- too excited. Ernie vowed to put him in his place. Rather he did than a truly horrifying case did.\n\n Ernie decided to review the facts once more. 'She was on her own, right, this dame, with nothing but this basket? Full of sweets and cookies. Ain't that right.\"\n\n Sam reviewed the notepad he had been scribbling something unintelligible. It could have been his grocery list for his wife, and not notes that could be vital to cracking the case. \"That's right. Her mother said she left at 3:30 p.m., and forensics confirms the fatal blow was struck at 4:01 p.m.\" \n\n Ernie looked at the series of deep scratches in her back, and the fatal blow- a chunk of her head missing. \"Do they know what weapon did it?\" He growled. This question had been unanswered by the chief while he was being briefed on his way down here.\n\n\n \"Forensics claims a shard of some sort. A glass bottle, a shank, maybe even a dull knife.\" Sam read carefully. \n\n\n \"Doesn't look like a bottle that did the dame in...\" Ernie whispered, his hand expertly floating over the cuts. \"More like... Nails. If that makes sense. Did she have any enemies? A boyfriend that wanted to do her in? Gangs? Maybe little Suzie-Lin down the street thought little... Red-Riding-Hood here was a little too promiscuous at school.\" \n\n Sam once again glanced down at the notes. Ernie rolled his eyes. He would have memorized the details within minutes of receiving them. \"Nothing we've found yet. She had filed a police report, however, some weeks prior... On the 17th of September. It was night, and she thought someone was stalking her. All the police found was something that looked like dog tracks- hardly a rape-to-be. Her mother said she was never in any gangs. Spent a lot of time at her grandma's.\"\n\n\n Ernie glided his finger over the hood, and found spittle. He lifted it up to his nose, and smelled it. Dog spit? He was getting to old for this kind of crap."
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[WP] The main protagonist is fully aware of being the main protagonist and knows that, no matter what he does, he won't die during the story.
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[
"It was a dark and stormy night.\n\nLightning flashed in the sky above the Lonely Hill Insane Asylum, illuminating the bone white walls of the former fortress. Thunder rolled. A high cackling escaped from the window in the highest tower.\n\n“I won!” Antoine screamed. His underpants were on his head. It was one of the symptoms of a psychological malady that he’d suffered from since birth. “I am the backflip champion of the world!”\n\nHe ran towards the wall again, jumped in the air and did a backflip over a bunkbed.\n\n“That was dangerous,” Bob said. His socks were on his ears. “You almost landed on your head.”\n\n“Nothing is dangerous for me,” Antoine said, “For I am the main character of this story and I cannot die!”\n\n“What do you mean?” Bob said.\n\n“Close your eyes,” Antoine said. Antoine had long black hair, and a square jaw. He wore his clothes inside-out. He looked a bit goofy with his eyes closed.\n\n“Okay,” Bob said, closing his eyes.\n\n “Now squint,” Antoine said, “Do you see that guy who hasn’t bathed in a few days? The one who is typing furiously into his laptop?”\n\n“Oh,” Bob said, “Yeah, I see him. Hey guy!” He waved.\n\n“Hey,” I said, “How are you?”\n\n“I’m good,” Bob said, “My name’s Bob. What’s your—”\n\nAntoine interrupted him. He said, “I’m having an excellent day Mr. Writer! I know your tricks! Let’s see you write your way out of this one!”\n\nAntoine opened his eyes and dashed out the window. Broken glass exploded outward. Antoine’s smile overpowered his face. He spread out his arms like a bird.\n\n“How you gonna save your main character now, Mr. Writer?” he cackled, “Are you gonna make me fly? Did your protagonist suddenly develop superpowers?”\n\nAntoine fell to the ground with a *splat!* and died on the cobblestones.\n\nBob went on to lead a magnificent life. He developed a cure for his own malady. For this he won the Nobel Prize. \n\nHe became a professional football player, and led the national team to victory in the World Cup. He served his country in the Great War and rose to the rank of Lieutenant. In the Second World War, he was promoted to Captain. Afterwards, he ran for Prime Minister. His term in office was universally deemed the Golden Age of the UK. \n\nAfter retiring, he wrote a great many novels, started a new artistic movement, and invented the Perpetual Motion Machine.\n\nAt the age of one hundred and thirty-seven, he lay on his deathbed, surrounded by his loving family; a dozen children, a hundred grand-children, a thousand great-grandchildren, and three million descendants from later generations. \n\n“My last words,” he said, “Are the following; *Do what you love. Forget about the rest*.”\n\nHe closed his eyes and began waiting for death. He'd had a good life, a full life. He'd accomplished everything that he'd wanted to. He felt ready to depart from this world.\n\nSuddenly, my doorbell rang. I stood up to go answer it, and\n\n",
"James removed his hand from the mighty occulus. \"Well shit.\" he said and his face broke out into a smile. \"Hey guys!\" He yelled over to his comerads who were sitting on the grass near him.\n\n\"What?\" George asked. His face filled with stress. All of his companions had been worried about him using the occulus as it had a tendency to make the user change genders, be unable to deal with the change, and commit suicide soon after. Not quite as good as the palantir but still pretty terrifying.\n\n\"I think we're pretty much set on this quest thing of ours.\" He replied grinning ear to ear.\n\n\"You seem waaaaaay too happy. Tell me what it is you saw. Then I can tell you just how stupid you are for misinterpreting it.\" Sarah, the only woman in thhe group, remarked.\n\n\"So I saw this guy, and he was turning the pages of a book and the book was describing me seeing his flipping through the pages.\" He explained. \"Guys. I think we're in a story, and I'm the main character.\" He said with narcissistic glee.\n\n\"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.\" Sarah said.\n\n\"The Occulus doesn't lie.\" George said frowning.\n\n\"Fine! Why does it even matter that you're tue main character.\" Sarah yelled somewhat annoyed. \"She's probably jealous SHE doesn't get her own story.\" James thought.\n\n\"It means I don't die dipshit.\" James explained in an equally annoyed manner. \"Most authors never kill the main characters because they become too attached to them. Bunch of idiots if you ask me.\" \n\nAt that moment the author realized that his creations had become self aware and decided that he had to o something about it. Rewrite the story? No, that'd be too hard. Then he got an idea.\n\n\"Doesn't it bother you a bit that we. Have no free will of our own because someone that isn't even in the same reality ass us is illustrating our lives for us?\" George asked.\n\n\"Nope! As long as I don't d-\" He started to say. Then a crossbow bolt flew fron the sky and struck him in the chest causing blood to flow out of the wound created by it.\n\nIn his shock John stumbled and fell to the ground and began to bleed out. George rushed to his aid trying to cover the wound with bandages while Sarah ran off in search of the attacked.\n\nGeorge pulled the volt out of his chest and lifted John up, attempting to press bandages against both sides of his body to stop the bleeding. But it was useless. By the time he had pick up John's body the light had already faded from his eyes and he died.\n\nGeorge felt for a heartbeat while pressing the bandages against his chest and realized this. \"Fuck.\" he said. There really wasn't anything else he could think of saying before he burst into tears.\n\nIn the woods, Sarah chased the attacker. She had seen him soon after running off in search of him. Pulling the knife she kept at her side out of its sheath Sarah began sprinting and prepared herself for the impact with the assassin.\n\nSarah caught up with him and her body collided with his as she tackled to the ground. Instinctively the assassin turned around to face her as she did so allowing her to press her knife against his throat an scream \"What the hell did you do that for?\"\n\nHe remained silent for a while before answering the question in a calm and composed manner. \"He wasn't the only main character to this story.\"",
"It was like the legends we always hear about. They start off in a small village and the hero is a humble farmer, trying to make a living. Then a suddenly a call to action. A kidnapped princess, and a heroic rebellion. Just like the legends.\n\nWhen my lord calls for my hand I respond. I am proud to fight alongside my brothers and countrymen. I knew I was destined for something greater all along.\n\nThe Mad King will be cast down, executed for his crimes against his own people. We will rescue Lady Lyanna for Lord Robert. I will return home a hero, all will know of Erik, the Hero of Ashford!",
"Earl plunged into the frozen waters of the Atlantic. The cold hit him immediately, and sent Earl to a realm of only dark, cold pain. After only a few seconds adjusting to the shock, Earl's lungs were pleading for air that wouldn't come.\n\nInstead of pushing towards the surface, he swam downwards, further into the crevice. The pressure built on his head, and his inner ears started to pulse with waves of pain. He screamed as loud as one can underwater, and inhaled mouthful after mouthful of freezing saltwater. It only took a couple more moments before Earl sank again into the happy place of his life, and lost conciousness for the final time.\n\n________________________\n\nHe awoke in a white room, covered with medical supplies and posters advising him to stop smoking. Breathing in the fresh, clean and warm air, Earl smiled, as once more, he had cheated-\n\n\"Bullshit!\" He cried out, ripping the sheets off his body. \"Let me die already, you crazy monster!\" A low rumbling came from all around him, in a amused fashion.\n\n\"Oh Earl. How could I let you go? You're my best character!\" The voice laughed a hearty laugh that tickled Earl's eardrums.\n\n\"I'm SEVENTY YEARS OLD! There's no way I can do the things you make me do! Can't you see I'm in pain?\"\n\n\"But look at all of the books you're in!\" Earl's eyes were drawn to a bookshelf in the middle of the room, stocked full with cheap paperback thriller stand-alones, four trilogys, a failed attempt at a romance, and a graphic novelization of his life. \"See that sweeeet loot?\"\n\n\"How can anybody read this garbage? It's terribly written!\" Ear ripped a paperback in two, which wasn't hard. Indeed, it had no substance.\n\n\"Why, the tweens, of course! Throw in a Pokemon, a love triangle and a WereRabbit, and you're got yourself a franchise!\" Earl turned back to the bed, and attempted to smash his face on a bedpost.\n\n\"How you gonna explain my attempted suicide? That's not going to appeal to anybody in that demographic, is it?\" The voice let out another booming chuckle.\n\n\"Oh you silly naive little boy. This is the end of your character arc! You're done!\" Earl stopped smashing his face in.\n\n\"Really? It's done?\" He couldn't believe his ears. They almost never told the truth.\n\n\"Haha, away with you!\" Earl could see his feet slowly whistling away into the wind, his simple character blowing away in the wind. He let out a repressed \"whoopee!\" and continued to wink out of existence. His last vision before he ceased to exist was that of the author winking at him in a glazed over look, and remarking,\n\n\"Of course, I haven't finished the prequels yet!\"",
"Erik balanced on a rope above a jagged rocked, sea-foamed fall. The wind was blowing fiercely. He could smell the salt and brine beneath him, and feel every tremor in the twine he stood on. \n\n\"Get back here!\" Ella called. She stood on the safe ground, where Erik had tied the rope off, arms crossed and frowning. \n\n\"Don't worry!\" Erik replied. \"It can't kill me.\" \n\n\"What,\" Ella started to say.\n\nErik attempted to flip on the rope, lost his footing, and fell into the sea. He was, of course, unharmed. A few days later he washed ashore, having somehow collected a small fortune in lost gold. Ella wouldn't speak to him for a week, but he just laughed. \n\nThis wasn't the only time. Erik became known as the town's daredevil. He jumped off cliffs and went boar hunting alone. Each and every time he returned with riches, stories, and glory. Ella often gave him the silent treatment for these, and refused to partake in any of them. At least until Erik was setting off for whatever it was. Then she'd run after him, bag packed with medicines and bandages, sending him side-eyed glares whenever he looked.\n\nJoining the militia was an obvious choice to Erik. He never bothered to drill or work, slept in late every day. The commanders didn't discharge him, though. His luck was so impeccable that they chose to believe he trained by himself. His favorite story was how he captured a bandit's lair without anyone even getting wounded. \n\nHis battle cry was always, \"It can't kill me.\" No one really knew what this meant, but it seemed true. Ella was the only one who tried to stop him. She had joined the militia too, after beating the commander a dozen times to prove she could fight. She was the only one who would talk him through his insane plans, and the first to go with him into a hopeless battle. \n\nWar came with the sort of lethargic tension it always did. People stocked up, gathered food, made battalions and minute men and armies. Then they waited for a few months until someone actually proclaimed war. Erik, for once, didn't mean to enlist, but his record and a dash of fate put him there. \n\nStill, it was all fun to him. He swaggered into battles that should be impossible, dodging arrows like they were fat flies. In every instance he somehow avoided getting anyone killed. Sometimes, the leaders would call him in to diplomatic meetings, just to stand in a corner and do what he liked. As long as he was there, really. If he wasn't, most took that as a sign of imminent assassination. \n\nElla came too. She always did. Her excuse, \"Well, someone has to make sure it doesn't kill you.\" Whatever 'it' was, she would complain about it after she found Erik, gloating about the newest conquest. Because she was the follower, she was ignored, and free to try and keep Erik safe. Except, sometimes, maids would take her aside and make tight, sad faces as they spoke to her. When she came back, she called them \"Shriveled old hags,\" but wouldn't be able to meet Erik's eyes.\n\nErik became known as the immortal, or as the peace, as though peace was a singular entity and it was him. He laughed and tipped his hat or waved his sword. \"It's nothing,\" he'd always say. \"Not like it can actually hurt me.\" This was about as humble as he got.\n\nAt war's end, he was asked to attend the signing of the treaty. He told Ella, and said, \"Negotiations have good food, right?\"\n\nThe negotiations had okay food, and less liquor than he wanted, but that was alright. There was a lot of partying going on. Around midnight he had danced with every woman and sprawled on a bench, exhausted. Ella sat beside him, sipping from a cup. Unlike him, she was breathing easy. She had been sitting there for the entire afternoon, not once asked to the dance floor. \n\nWhile Erik was complaining about the lack of dance partners, and Ella was giving him a curious, sort of tired stare, the bombs went off. Thunder and lightning they seemed, fire spreading wide, metal shards piercing the crowd. Erik found himself on the floor, ears ringing and deaf. He didn't bother to check himself for wounds. Around him, people moved their mouths in what must be screams. He could smell thick blood and smoke.\n\nBeside him, Ella lay on her stomach. Red dyed her hair a deep brown color, seeping out from punctures in her clothes. Erik stared at her until the guards came and escorted the dead away. They took Ella with them. Erik followed, confused, but the guards pushed him aside. He wasn't dead, they said.\n\n\"Of course I'm not. It couldn't kill me.\" Erik kept trying to follow Ella, and the guards had to restrain him. \n\nAt the funeral, the duke of somewhere talked about terrorists and traitors. Everyone else cried. Erik stared into the hole where Ella was and wondered why, if it couldn't kill him, did he feel dead.",
"\"Yeah so, we doing this or what?\"\n\nHe stood at the top of Mount Everest, his short, dark brown hair blowing into his face. His fists rested upon his hips, he had so much confidence you would think he owned the world from how he looked down at the clouds which covered view of the land.\n\n\"Why would we do *that?*\" She said. On each hand she had only two fingers up and they were on her temples, continuously going in circles. \"We made it to the top, let's just go down.\" She tried to convince him.\n\n\"We can, if you'd just jump down with me.\" He pushed.\n\n\"Sorry, but I don't want to die.\" She declined his idea once again.\n\n\"Don't worry about dying, as long as you're with me, you wont. *She* wouldn't let that happen to us.\" He laughed.\n\nHe moved from his position at the edge of the mountain, to beside his girlfriend. He plopped down next to her on their campsite, taking some air from the tank.\n\n\"Who's *she?*\" His girlfriend's voice had curiosity and a little *jealousy* in it.\n\n\"The person writing our story.\" He said, losing interest in the conversation. He stood up and walked over to a small black rock and kicked it off the mountain, listening for a sound that never came.\n\n\"Wow, you sure are full of it, aren't ya?\" She said. She looked blankly at him, watching how his hair blew in the wind, when it did you could see the beauty mark he hid beneath his bangs. \n\nHe had enough of the conversation and grabbed her hand which was being warmed in a black mitten. Her pink and gray Northface jacket rustled as it hit his black one lightly. \n\n\"What are you doing?\" She shouted.\n\n\"Jumping.\" \n\nThey fell, her grip on his hand tightened and kept getting tighter and tighter as she screamed and he laughed. The pressure of the air did not affect them at all.\n\n*We should be dead.* She thought and stopped screaming.\n\n\"I told you.\" He mouthed. \n\nSoon they began to get closer to the bottom, only an arm's length away. they crashed into the ground. \n\n\"Ow.\" He said, rubbing his bleeding head. \"Even though I can't die, I can still get seriously hurt, huh?\" He asked the author.\n\nHe turned his head to his girlfriend who was...*knocked out?*\n\n\"Hey.\" He said, pinching her cheeks. \"Hello, wake up. Why isn't she waking up?\" He questioned the author again.\n\nEven though he couldn't see it, the author smirked and laughed manically as she typed the words; He screamed and shouted for her to wake up, but it was over and she was dead. He was invincible as the main protagonist, but she wasn't.",
"Jane's Beige-suited psychiatrist took off his glasses and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. \n\n\"Look its understandable that you've been a bit freaked out by all these gory murders. But you have to realise that what you're telling me is completely insane.\"\n\n\"No what i'm telling you is the truth. This is all a story and i'm the main character so I cant die.\"\n\n\"Jane there are a lot of self help books that talk about life as one long story. Maybe you just got confus..... Jane where are you going?\"\n\nUnwilling to listen Jane had clamberd up from the couch and stood to face a nearby window. \n\n\"Well doctor if you wont take my word for it i'll just have to show you. If I were to jump out of this window would I die?\"\n\n\"Well yes of course we're on the fifth floor.\"\n\nJane sprinted to the window and before the doctor could stop her she lept through the air, smashing through the glass.\n\nThe Doctor panicked and leapt to the window. On the street far below he could just make out the faint red smear of Jane's broken body. \n\nAs he stared down tears began to stream down his face. \n\n \"I'm sorry Jane\"\n\nThe moment those words left left his lips his vision began to blur. \n\nSlowly a blackness began to creep into the edges of his vision. He began to panic as the darkness devoured more and more of his field of vision. He tried frantically to wipe his eyes but it did no good. \n\nAs his sight finally faded to black words in large white letters filled his vision. \n\n THE END\n\n A very strange suicide\n\n Directed by Melvin Blake\n Teleplay by Edward Blackthorn\n \n Characters in order of first \n appearence\n\n Jane Anna Skelton\n DR Lewis Martin Bradley\n\n",
"I tear the steering wheel hard into the oncoming lane of traffic. My body lurches nearly out of the seat. Ah, right. Seatbelt. I straighten the vehicle's trajectory and fasten my seatbelt. I turn to the front passenger seat. My passenger turns to me shakily, wearing an expression that is some unsettling blend of nauseated and enraged.\n\n“What's that look for?” I intentionally keep my eyes off of the road for far too long. Horns blare, cars swerve out of the way. Just as expected.\n\n“LOOK AT THE ROAD, YOU MANIAC!!” She grabs the wheel and pulls it hard to the right. The van thumps and bumps as it meets the curb and traverses the grass that now divides the two sections of road. The oncoming lane was actually an off-ramp, leading down from a highway that passes over the lane we'd been in before. So there's a height differential. We fall a short distance to the correct side of the road, hitting it hard and with a spray of sparks. The front right hubcap is a casualty. I watch it roll away from us in the rearview mirror. I recenter my attention on the interfering companion in the neighboring seat.\n\n“Damn it, Fred! This lane has cops! You know how cops get about my driving!”\n\n“Well maybe if you would DRIVE LIKE A PERSON, maybe they'd stop chasing us!”\n\n“Well maybe if you hadn't stolen all of that money, they wouldn't be chasing!”\n\n“YOU STOLE THE MONEY, YOU DICK!”\n\n“Oh, yeah. I forgot... Well hey, you tagged along!” Fred stops trying to retort and throws her hands up in exhaustion, sighing an indeterminate swear word. The cops have blocked the road ahead. The ones behind have stopped following so closely, but the other cars, the blacked-out imports, those have kept pace. So much for the enemy of my enemy being my friend.\n\nI squeeze the gas pedal closer to the floor.\n\n“Jaaaack...” Fred tenses up in the seat, pressing against it and raising up slightly.\n\n“Sshh...” I ignore her and try to hide my slight grin as I accelerate a bit more.\n\n“...JAAAAAACK...” She's pushing up in the seat like there's a spider on the floor now.\n\n“SSHH!”\n\n“JACK! WHAT ARE YOU--” Fred's admonishing is cut off by the bursting of the tires. Oh right. Spike strips. I guess not all of this works like the movies. The metal of the wheels grinds against the asphalt as we continue to careen towards the line of cops cars. The cops have mostly abandoned them.\n\nI aim straight ahead and push the accelerator against the floor.\n\nEven if I had a cool one-liner, Fred's screaming and the assorted bad car sounds would drown it out. We smash through the line of cop cars in a spectacular display, probably. From my vantage point, it's mostly terrifying and shaky. But bystanders, man. They probably got a hell of a show.\n\nThe van is losing speed pretty quickly, but the disaster behind us has slowed our pursuers even more. I pull off the road into a department store parking lot, finally sliding to a halt between two big rig trailers parked near the loading dock.\n\nI hold my hands up as if to say “Ta da!” and Fred hits me with her messenger bag.\n\n“Ow, hey! Quit that!” I grab the bag. She weakly lets go and turns away from me. Reasonable. I didn't explain any of this to her before the heist. Which I tricked her into helping me with.\n\n“Fred, listen...” I reach a hand towards her cautiously, but stop.\n\n“I don't want to listen to YOU.” She turns towards me just slightly at the last word, spitting it viciously through a lone curl that had fallen from her headband during the chase. She follows this up by blowing the renegade strand of hair from her face and pushing the glasses up her nose.\n\n“Okay. Well, I'm gonna talk anyway. And it won't make much sense at first. But if you decide to start listening, maybe it'll start to make some sense.” She relaxes slightly, her curiosity betraying her righteously soured mood.\n\nI take a deep breath and begin to say words that are not my own.\n\n“I'm the main character in a story. The only reason we are here right now is because we are being written as such. I cannot be killed in this story, as it is based on a writing prompt that specifies that I know that I am the unkillable main character. The prompt doesn't specify how safe you are, but the writer likes you better and therefore has no plans to kill you off. If you don't believe me, which you shouldn't, because this sounds like pure madness, I can prove it. There was a thing that happened at your sixth birthday party that you haven't ever told a single soul, where you--”\n\n“How... How could you know that? About my birthday?” Fred has turned towards me fully, looking more frightened and confused than she had during the police chase.\n\n“I don't know it, Fred. The writer doesn't even know it. He just needed me to say the beginning of a dark secret from your past that only you could know, something to lend plausibility to your inevitable belief in my ridiculous assertion. Fred... Do you even know the secret I started to say just now?” She furrowed her brow.\n\n“...No. No, I don't. But... How is this... I mean...”\n\n“I don't know. But there it is. We're fictional. And I can't be killed. That's why we did the bank thing. Because I thought it would be fun. But this scene here, it's getting really metatextual and it's honestly kind of freaking me out. I feel like we're being watched. I feel like a puppet. Fred, I don't even know my last name. We don't have families or friends, because we haven't had them written for us. If we'd been written into a screenplay or a novel, maybe we'd have fuller lives. But this... We're a short story, and kind of a hacky one at that. Maybe we can't die, but how can we live? We're not even going to get a full three pages here. We got the big action sequence, and maybe that'll get expanded in revisions, but then what? He's not going to use us again. He hasn't even described what we look like, except that you wear glasses and have a strand of curly hair long enough to hang in front of your face. We're stories, but who are we? Where do we go when the story is over? We live this loop, again and again, never escaping the car chase or the navel-gazing commentary on the fictionality of our own lives.”\n\n“But there's one way we can die, Jack.”\n\n“Yeah? And what's that?”\n\n“Say the words.”\n\n“What words?”\n\n“The end.”",
"\"I'm not exactly sure when I found out,\" said Steve, scrounging his mind for a definitive moment. It had all started a few months ago after Steve collided with a glass door. \n\n*Oh.* Steve thought to himself. *That.*\n\n\"Dude, you gotta be crazy. Schizophrenic or something,\" his friend replied, shaking her head to rid her mind of Steve's madness. \n\n\"No, I swear. I mean, at first I would have agreed with you, Mel. I could just hear fragments, bits and pieces of the story. It scared the shit out of me.\" \n\nMelissa was all too quick for her own good. \"I'm pretty sure schizophrenia would scare the shit out of me too.\" \n\n\"I'm *not* schizophrenic!\" Steve scowled. \"Everything I hear happens! Guaranteed. Sometimes I can hear what's going to happen next, or some personal detail about someone I'm talking to, like you for instance, Mel.\" \n\n\"Me?!\" Mel's voice cracked. Perhaps she was worried the voices in Steve's head told him about the terrible lisp she suffered as a child. \n\nSteve giggled. \"Yup. I never knew you had a lisp! You cover it up really well.\"\n\n\"I-what! How did you- you can't really!\" Mel stumbled over her own train of thought. \"How long have you known that?\" \n\n\"A solid eight seconds, I think.\" Steve grinned. \n\n\"Are you a telepath? Psychic?\" Mel asked in awe. \n\nSteve shook his head. \"Nah. It's like I'm listening to my own personal narrative. I'm in a story Mel, and I've picked up on it.\"\n\n\"Woooooooow,\" she commented, mind blown away from this news. \"Is there any specific voice telling it?\"\n\n\"Nah. Keeps changing. Morgan Freeman once described me combing my hair, so that's pretty cool.\" Steve tried to say as nonchalantly as he could. \n\n\"You lucky son of a bitch.\" \n\n\"Yup,\" Steve gave her the smuggest grin he could muster. \"And it's all in the past tense, third person.\"\n\n\"It would be kind of weird for it to be in the first person, though.\" Melissa reasoned. \n\n\"True... but the sentence structures drive me mad sometimes.\" The narrative was scrutinized by Steve. \"Like this passive voice! Whoever is writing about my life is a shitty writer.\" \n\n\"You're a shitty person to write about,\" teased Melissa. \"Do you hear all the 'he said, she said's?\" \n\nHe shrugged. \"Yeah, you get used to it after a while.\"\n\n Mel looked even more curious. \"And everything you're doing as we speak is being narrated in the past tense? That makes no fucking sense.\"\n\n\"I know! I know! None of this makes sense, but do you know what this means?\" he asked. \n\n\"You're a psychic schizo?\" she asked innocently.\n\n\"Jesus! Would you stop that?\" Steve groaned. \"No, it means I'm invincible.\"\n\nMelissa looked amused. \"Invincible?\"\n\n\"Yeah. So long as I hear the narrative, I'm the main character,\" Steve declared modestly. \"What kind of main character could die in the middle of their story?\" \n\nMelissa bit her tongue. She couldn't think of any examples, but she felt like there had to be exceptions. Steve, hearing this narrative, was not concerned. He knew his books. \n\nSteve was a little worried that the narrative stopped for a while after the conversation with Melissa, but he sighed in relief when it began again with a time jump. Steve had entered the military and rose through the ranks. Generals were amazed by his fearlessness, his gusto. Steve commanded the front lines, emboldening his men with his own prowess. His spirit was infectious. \n\n\"He's almost...perfect,\" a private commented. \n\n\"Yup,\" a comrade agreed. \"Books will be written about him.\"\n\nSteve grinned to himself. He *was* in a story, after all. His narrative gave him the strength to do wild, almost reckless maneuvers on the battlefield. Once, he had captured an enemy tank, slipped behind the enemy lines, and killed a fierce enemy general without so much as a fistfight. He would catch grenades and throw them back towards his opponents. Once, he was so cocky that he waltzed into open enemy fire. \n\nNow was the day for the final assault. They would breach the capital of Canada and conquer the country once and for all. Steve was certain victory and glory were within his grasp. *I can't die, after all.* That was his mantra as he ran into the midst of the final battlefield. \n\nLittle did he know....\n\n\"OH FUCK!\" Steve screamed. He had forgotten. That one phrase could flip his tale upside down. \n\n...that this lazy writer did not have the will to give his story a proper ending. \n\n\"Please don't!\" Steve sobbed, falling down on his knees. Sometimes, even the most exciting stories can end abruptly. A grenade landed and rolled its way over to Steve. \n\n\"I thought,\" Steve choked out, \"I couldn't die....\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] All but 2% of the population have vanished. In your hometown only you, the person you love most, and the person you hate most remain.
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"I remember staring out the giant picture window that took up an entire wall of our living room, never blinking, still confused as to what happened to our neighbors.\n\n\"Did they go on a trip, mommy?\" I asked, tugging at the white sleeve beside me. Her soft hand gently rubbed my little ear. \"I don't know, baby,\" she whispered. \"I really don't.\"\n\n\"What about grandma and Aunt Bonnie?\"\n\n\"They're...they're out of town right now, honey.\" My mother clenched the bridge of her nose and let out a worried sigh. Our town was small -- maybe only a thousand people, one stoplight, a small pizza joint, and a gas station -- so it was strange to not see anyone out mowing their lawn or playing in their sprinklers on that warm August afternoon. \n\nTypically my friends would come over and play dinosaurs with me around that time. My mom, she liked my friends and never got annoyed with us too much, though some of them simply came over on surveillance missions for their nosy mothers wondering why my mom's arm was in a sling or how the window broke in the kitchen. \"I battled a thousand dragons! Would ya believe it? They got me good, but in the end I came out VICTORIOUS!\" She would tell us these amazing stories that made us think she was the coolest mom from here to Los Angeles. Sometimes I would even be swept away by her amazing tales of slaying monsters or traveling through time even though I knew most of the truth. It was nice to take my mind off of things every once in a while, especially when I was that young and inquisitive.\n\n\"Is it just you and me now, mommy?\"\n\n\"I believe so, Charlie, but I'll tell you what: Maybe I can call the neighbors and ask if we can borrow their car for a few days, yeah? Maybe drive to the beach, pitch a tent, and camp out under the stars. That would be cool, huh?\"\n\n\"Let's do it!\" I perked right up and got excited at the thought of taking a trip with my mom, just the two of us, the open road, a tent, and the rolling waves of the Pacific. Mom rustled my hair and pulled out her cell phone. She scrolled through her contacts and placed a call to Norma, our neighbor. (She had the coolest car! An Aztek, I think.) I stared up at my mother's glowing face; she smiled and wrinkled her nose at me as she pinched my cheek.\n\nAfter a few moments of silence, her gaze went back to the nothingness outside the window. Her hands started shaking a bit and I could see water building up under her eyes -- it was the look of lost hope. Just then, she started talking softly into the phone. \"Hi Norma, it's Sandy\" she said in a worried, crackling voice. \"I, uh, I wanted to know if Charlie and I could borrow your car for a few days.\" She busted up crying. \"OK, the keys are in it already? Great! Thank you.\" She dropped the phone and cried some more. Thinking back I know Norma never answered her phone, but as a five-year-old I thought mom was just so happy that we got to go somewhere together.\n\n\"She said yes?!\" I shouted. \"We get to use her cool car?!\"\n\n\"She sure did! Give me a high five!\" I jumped up. Our hands came together in a loud *CRACK!* She leaned down so that we were eye level. \"Now I want you to go upstairs and pack up all of your clothes, OK? Especially your swim trunks! Wouldn't want to forget those.\" She grinned.\n\nIn our moment of excitement and planning, we heard tires screeching and a loud crash come from just outside the window. Mom stood up and peered outside, but I was too anxious to get to the beach to stand with her. \"Honey... Baby... Mommy needs you to hurry up, OK?\"\n\n\"OK mommy, I will, I promise.\"\n\n\"And even if you think you have everything...\" She trailed off and began to tear up again. \"Even if you think you have everything I want you to stay up there and double-triple check so we don't forget a single thing, alright?\"\n\nI giggled. \"OK mommy, I will. Don't worry!\"\n\nI ran through the living room, up the stairs, down the hall, and burst into my room. I stood there looking around, making a mental checklist of what I needed to take. From downstairs I heard a loud slam, immediately changing my smile to a look of concern. \n\nDad was home.",
"God Bless Hate.\n\nI never thought I'd say it but the apocalypse is turning out to be pretty fun. . I spent the day setting up food stores, preserving food and looting with my big brother. Got to tote a police MP5 and didn't have to shoot anyone with it. Best 20th birthday ever\n\nAfter some searching I find out There are three of us left here in town my Mum, my Brother and me. I've been yakking on the Ham radio and from what I can find out the bottom 98% of the population is gone. \n\nFor a country the size of the US that's a meager 7 million souls left.\n\nMy hands trembled a bit as I knocked on my mother's door, she had reason to dislike me and my brother and for us to hate her but after the Flash it was all water under the bridge.\n\nShe opened the door \"Son?\" \n\n\"Hi Mom. I brought groceries.\" \n\nHer smile was broad, \"Welcome home.\" \n\nI smiled back. I gave my brother the thumbs up and he honked the car horn. Who was going to complain. \n\nNow it wouldn't be easy to make things work but with the apocalypse we were all we had, well until we headed down to the big city to meet up with a couple of girls but that's another story ",
"I glanced around my bedroom before scratching my dirty grey hair. I felt a sensation last night that I can’t quite put my finger on. It almost felt like an earthquake. My head beat like a drum, leaving my vision unfocused and blurred. The blinds on all of my windows were pulled, that’s usual. I’ve indulged myself in books and music lately. I can’t bear to look at myself in the mirror, or pull myself together enough to get dressed and socialize. It’s been three weeks since I killed her. The innocent little girl that just wanted to pick up a quarter she had found in the street. My fucking nerves were shot that day. Someone was calling me on the phone, I was multi-managing my semi-successful business, and my eyes just weren’t paying attention to the road like they should have been. It felt like a fucking road bump. Her body felt like a bump and I kept driving. I didn’t know until three squad cars pulled into my development and busted down my door with a battering ram. She was seven fucking years old. I ran my hand through my hair. I was only thirty, I shouldn’t have grey hair. My teeth had taken to the disgusting habit of gritting. My skin had taken a vacation and a pale coat had taken its place. I haven’t showed in two weeks.\n\nI walked over to the window, and pulled down the blinds to survey the local neighborhood. My development was very nice. Everyone had two cars, or at least a very expensive cruiser; Rolls Royces, BMWs, and even a Lamborghini. My eyes darted around the street, and I noticed that there weren’t the usual pedestrians strolling down the sidewalk, or dragging along their dog. I sighed, and then shrugged. Today was Sunday; I suppose my neighborhood has taken to going to Sunday mass. The refrigerator hummed lowly in the background, only adding to the noise that echoed endlessly in my head. I spun around, tiptoeing into my kitchen. I pulled open the refrigerator and scowled. I had finally run out of food. I looked around the room, spotting my pants sitting astray on the floor, next to my wallet and keys. I pulled my pants on and slipped my accessories in my pockets, slowly and reluctantly turning towards the front door. It was a shitty cheap wood door that they replaced my original glass door with. My car sat in the driveway, and I swallowed hard. I haven’t been in my car since I ran over that little girl. The ignition hummed when I turned the key, the engine lurching to life. I pushed on the gas lightly, and then turned off onto my street.\n\nWhen I got to the grocery store, the parking lot was a ghost town. Not a single car in sight, stray trash and shopping carts littered the cement graveyard. I blinked, getting out of my car and walking into the WalMart that loomed in front of me. I usually hate going to the super stores but I wasn’t willing to show my face at a family owned grocery store. The doors were open, and all of the lights were on, but there wasn’t a person in sight. Not behind any of the registers, or in any of the aisles. Cereal and hotdogs are in the same aisle for some reason, so hey, I picked up both; Lucky Charms and a 6-pack of wieners. My shopping cart was half full when I decided that was enough, and I pulled up to the front of the store. I parked my car at the far end of the parking lot and the beaming sun shot a reflection of light into my eyes. I rubbed my hands together, and then put them back onto the cart. I think I’m going to wait around a bit and see if anyone comes. I didn’t want to take food without paying. My hands landed on the shopping cart and I felt a small lump of plastic underneath of the handle. My brow furrowed and I looked under the plastic bar, revealing a small light that beeped red rhythmically. It was probably one of those sensors that locked the cart up when you got too far from the store. I put on some music and sat in a bench that sat against the wall, facing away from my car; the look of it disgusted me. \n\nI must have dozed off because I came to in the same position I sat in when I got here. My music had stopped a while ago, because my phone’s battery ran dry. I sighed. No one was around, still. When I tried to power on my phone it had blinked twice, and an emergency alert had broadcasted that there had been an extreme disaster, and almost all of human population had simply disappeared. It made sense to me, I was already gone to the world, why was I here? I pulled up the camera on my phone; I hadn’t even seen myself in weeks. I switched around to the face camera, but after a second I shook my head. There was nothing there, and my battery was running low. Maybe it was a glitch. But I could see what was behind me perfectly. Weird. I powered down my phone again, and slipped it into my pocket. Well, I guess I’m taking the groceries with me. I stood up and pushed it with me through the automatic sliding doors and through the parking lot. I heard a clattering, as the doors shut. It wasn’t just the door. I turned to look behind me. It was me. I knew it was a matter of time, I was going to get me. The cart squealed as I shoved it with me, sprinting through the parking lot. Why did I park at the end of the fucking lot? I remembered as it was too late, the cart screeched to a halt but I didn’t. The cart went up, and I flipped face first over it. I crawled slowly away from the cart, groaning in pain as I had hit my face on the asphalt. My eyes were blurry, my vision unfocused. The white noise had stopped. And then I saw me again; next to a cloaked figure, with a scythe. It was my representation of death, until he pulled down his hood and the crushed face of the girl I had run over replaced the darkness that was hidden. I was ready. I embraced it. They both stepped forward as I went unconscious. \n\nMy eyes hurt, everything was white. I was strapped to a hospital bed and was hooked up to multiple different machines. Beeps and white noise went through my ears, and my eyes were unfocused any blurry. “Hello!?” I questioned the silence. A nurse burst into the room, hands full of pill bottles and liquids. That was the last thing I saw. The last thing I heard was quite a while later. It was the laughing of a crowd while I was injected with poison; and electrocuted on the chair. I comforted it, death, you know? It let me get away from reality. I could indulge myself in something other than reading, like hiking. I took that up after a month. But I still couldn’t stand to see the reflection of myself. It was never there, it was always haunting me.\n",
"\"Mabel get me the shotgun, that goddam bastard took apples from our apple tree again, I can see them in his yard,\" I screamed.\n\nIts been thirty no forty years since everyone disappeared. Only me, my wife, and that asshole next door Jerry were left in our town. For a time Jerry and I put aside our differences, after all I wasn't going to not help the man just because he would dump his lawn clippings in my yard. \n\nFor a time it worked out, but that bastard became more devious every day. First he would let his dogs out to bark in the middle of the night. Then he would tinker on that ridiculously contraption he called a motorcycle until well after midnight. The last straw was when started stealing my apples from my apple tree. \n\nI have been growing that apple tree since everyone disappeared shortly after my 30th birthday and now it is a magnificent tree after 50 years. Grooming and caring for that tree is one of the few things I enjoy in life and THAT MAN HAS THE AUDACITY TO STEAL THE APPLES FROM IT.\n\n\"MABEL, WHERE IS MY SHOTGUN?\" I scream, \"I AM NOT LETTING THAT MAN STEAL ANY MORE APPLES!\"\n\n\"HOW MAN TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU, YOU SENILE BASTARD,\" she screams back, \"HE ISN'T STEALING THEM, THEY ARE DROPPING ONTO HIS SIDE OF THE YARD!\"",
"Monday mornings were still the worst, that's one thing that didn't change after The Incident . Every Monday I woke up in a bad mood. For different reasons entirely of course. \n\nI cajoled myself out of bed and look\n around my so called bedroom. A room in the Public Library, christ it was depressing waking up here surrounded by books about Chemistry and Science, he was sick of them. \n\nThe Sun peeked through the overhead window, illuminating my bedside table and a pocket watch. \n\n\"Damn it!, gonna be late\". I walk down the fourth floor to the Art section and as always knock the door. \n\n\"Ready to go Laura?\" I ask her, hoping she says no.\n\n\"Yeah, I'm ready\" she smiles at me. She looks beautiful, it's been six months and every morning her beauty took my breath away. \n\nWe descend to the ground floor, grabbing some supplies and then head out to the morning sky. To the same destination as always. \n\n\"You coming inside today? \" she asks, knowing my answer already. \n\n\" I'll stay outside, don't feel like it\"\n\nShe gives me a sad smile and enters the graveyard, a bunch of lilacs in her hand. \n\nEvery weeks she places those flowers on the large angel statue for our old friends and family long gone , even though they didn't get graves, everyone just disappeared. And every week I wait outside, I'm not a fan of being there in the graveyard \n\n\nShe returns a few minutes later, a few years in her eyes, but she's strong, and smart. That's what saved in the first place, alone, studying in the Library cellar. Nobody else had a chance. \n\nI give her hand a squeeze and give her a smile. We head back to the Library, talking about anything but the thing. \n\nSix months have passed with her, and I love her, and I know she feels the same about me. But she feels my hesitation. I wish I could give her what she wants. But I can't. So we resort to giving each other deep looks \n\nWe spend all day together, the same routine, counting supplies, eating, fixing up the link library,talking, playing some silly games. \n\n\n\"Hey, you wanna come to my room and see this drawing I've made \" the way she says it implies more than art is intended. \n\n\" I think I might just go asleep \" I reply.\nBut she doesn't relent, she comes close as kisses me, and I don't resist, I kiss her back \n\n\" it's my birthday, let's celebrate Michael \"\n\n\" I'm sorry, but I can't \" I head to my room, leaving her there... With sadness in her eyes, and confusion \n\n\nIt's the best thing to do... Because even though I love her more than anyone... And she feels the same way about me. I love her deeply, it's not her who I hate... \n\nI stare at myself in the mirror.. If she knew my part in The Incident. She would hate me, because I hate myself more than anyone \n\n\n",
"Day 1- Gone, everyone gone. I can't find a single living soul. No clue where they went. There are no bodies, and no signs of struggle. Nothing has changed except everyone just vanished. I'm holding out hope that someone else is alive, and choosing to believe that everyone else is somewhere safe. Phones and internet are down.\n\nDay 2- She's alive! Oh thank goodness she's alive! My best friend and secret crush also made it. She doesn't know anything either, but she's scared, and wants to stay with me until we find more people! We spent today raiding stores and stockpiling canned food. We had so much fun TPing the entire store with the toilet paper supply! Hope we don't regret that later.\n\nDay 3- Electricity and water went out today. Those were the only remaining utilities. We're down to things that run on batteries. Thank goodness I found a solar charger for this laptop. Maybe I'll upload this to reddit for some karma when the internet comes back. My crush and I played hide and go seek in a local police station while we were obtaining guns.\n\nDay 4-We cuddled last night! And I managed to find a CD of some old school big band swing music that we're learning to dance to! Hoping to get up the courage for a kiss in a day or two.\n\nDay 5-I hate everything. The worst person in the world showed up today. This guy was my best friend in high school until he got me fired for work, stole my girl, and got me expelled. He's eating our supplies right now as my crush talks to him. She told me that she's secretly had a crush on my enemy for years and she think's this will work out.\n\nDay 6-We scavenged a bunch of camp supplies from a few local stores, along with a whole bunch of wood and axes for fires. We have enough water treatment straws, tablets, powders, and pumps to purify the atlantic. She's teaching him to dance to OUR swing music.\n\nDay 7-He built a treehouse. I gotta give it to him, the guy is handy. We moved some sleeping bags and pillows up there, and are planning on spending our nights up there. My enemy figures it will be safer against wild animals.\n\nDay 8- She told me she is going to try and kiss him tonight. I had to excuse myself for a long walk. I'm writing this in some woods a couple miles from my house. I've never been out here before. It's pretty peaceful and I think I'll stay here for a while.\n\nDay 8 and 1/2- Fell asleep! It's dark out and I have no idea which way home is. I'm keeping this laptop on for light. I'm hearing crunching sounds everywhere. I think there might be bears or wolves or something out here. The light from the screen is reflecting off of the leaves and it looks like eyes.\n\nDay 9- It's daylight, oh thank goodness it's daylight. The battery from the laptop ran out several hours before sunrise and I just huddled whimpering in a bush for several hours. Still have no idea how to get back.\n\nDay 10- Got myself more lost. Great, just two other people in the world left and I had to lose them. This is just great. I didn't bring any water or food with me, like an idiot, and now my tongue and lips are really starting to dry out.\n\nDay 11- They found me! I actually cried at the sight of them. They brought water and everything! I didn't even mind when she kissed him. I can be mad later. Did I mention the have food and water? And I won't be sleeping by myself tonight?\n\nDay 12- They told me all about the time I was gone. They scavenged more supplies, built a second house, rigged up an SOS signal from a bunch of solar panels and flood lights. The best part? They went to the next town over to look for me, and they found someone else. She's cute. She's my age, and she's single. We are going to share the second treehouse. My enemy winked at me and said the two of us might like the privacy. Maybe this guy isn't so bad afterall.\n\nTL:DR there's always more fish in the sea, even in the apocalypse.",
"There she was, the most perfect being ever created. Here I am, the lowliest. The idea that there were only three of us left had allowed me to hope beyond hope I could have a shot with her.\n\nIt would have been the perfect scenario, if only one small change were made.\n\nIf only her damn husband had disappeared with all the rest of them."
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[WP] "They aren't coming, are they?"
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"My mommy was staring at the T.V. screen. She looked scared. I don't know what was going on, but I was scared too. I ran over and gave her a hug. \n\n\"What's going on Mommy?\" I clutched onto her skirt. \n\nIt looked like it was one of those movies she and Daddy would watch late at night. They would tell me to go to bed, but sometimes I would be sneaky and watch from the door. Mommy didn't look like she was watching a movie. \n\nShe looked down at me and smiled. Her eyes didn't smile though. They still looked scared. Mommy almost never looked like that before. \n\n\"Nothing, sweetie. Some bad people are fighting very far away. But we're okay here at home.\" She gave me a reassuring hug. \n\n________\n\nMy mommy shook me awake. I wasn't very happy about it. \n\n\"MOMMY! It's too early for waking up. The sun isn't up!\" \n\nMommy covered my lips. \"Shhhh....\" She said. I looked around. She had two small suitcases next to her. She lifted me out of bed. Mommy looked really scared. She didn't smile at me like she usually does.\n\n\"They aren't coming, are they?\" I whispered. \n\nMommy looked sad. \"I'm so sorry sweetie.\" She began to cry.\n\n\"It's okay, Mommy.\" I wiped away her tears and smiled at her, even though I knew this wasn't going to be a happy day. \n\nShe put me on the floor. We walked out to the car and never went back home. \n\n_______\n\nMy mommy told me that Daddy would come for us with his friends. He would come when we were safe again. There were lots of people living with us now. Sometimes they carried away people who were sleeping. Mommy told me they were just going to sleep somewhere else. \n\nI was getting hungry. \n\n_______\n\nMy mommy and I haven't been at home for a long time now. I miss warm food. Mommy doesn't eat much anymore. She keeps giving me hers, but I'm still hungry. Mommy looks really tired. She won't stop coughing. We're still waiting for Daddy to come for us. \n\nIt began to thunder again. It's really loud. Mommy looks up at the ceiling. \n\n\"No...It's too soon,\" She says between coughs. I hug her. \n\nI know the thunder isn't a bad storm. I miss my Daddy, but I don't think he's making the booms. \n\n\"They aren't coming, are they?\" I whisper.\n\nMommy looks sad. \"I'm so sorry sweetie.\" She is crying now. \n\n\"It's okay, Mommy.\" I wipe away her tears and smile at her because I know it's the last time we'll ever be able to smile together. \n\n\n\n",
"We sat there, stranded. The sun blazed down onto our faces; I could feel my skin getting burned.\n\n\"They aren't coming, are they?\" Jim asked.\n\n\"Fuck if I know. We've been here for three hours 'n they were supposed to be here when we got here,\" Snells responded.\n\nSuddenly, out of nowhere, I heard a thunderous roar. I looked around wildly and saw the barren earth tear apart. We were in the middle of an earthquake.\n\n\"Get to the *fucking* cave!\" Snells screamed.\n\nWe literally ran for our lives. First Jackson made it to the shithole of a cave; then Schmidt; then Manny; then me; then Alex; then Hellie; then Snells; then-\n\n\"Where the fuck is Jim?!\" Manny asked frantically.\n\n\"Shit. Shit. Shitshitshit,\" Schmidt said, pointing out of the cave, with a blank expression on his face. Jim was hanging off of the giant jagged crevice in the ground, held onto the safety of the earth only by a single plant. All seven of us ran toward Jim and pulled him up into safety. Jim smelled like shit. I peered down into the crevice and saw only darkness.\n\nThis is my first response to a WP. I'd love feedback :D",
"My father pressed \"End\" on the screen and set the phone face down, quietly on the kitchen counter. He let out a slight sigh of resignation to what was about to occur again this year. The rest of us were gathered at the kitchen table, where we had been catching up since the last family get-together at Thanksgiving.\n\n\"They aren't coming, are they?,\" my brother said with a slight hesitant plaintiveness in his voice.\n\n\"Yes, they are,\" my father replied.\n\nShit. As I looked around the borderline tackily-decorated house, adorned with too many Santas to count, reindeer, elves, tiny mechanical snowmen, and the simplest nod to the holiday in the form of a crocheted sign that simply read \"Jesus,\" I thought for a moment about how our bit of happiness and peacefulness in each other's company was about to be shattered. That tiny crocheted sign simply displayed the thought that went through all of our heads when we realized they *were* coming- \"Jesus.\"\n\nNow, we had often joked about the comparison between my mom's penchant for overdecorating the house in a Clark Griswold-like display of lights and gadgets during Christmas, but nothing quite paralleled our family with that fictional family like my sister and her husband. They were our Catherine and Eddie. They brought their undisciplined, rude child with them every year. They tore through our Christmas like a combination of the Tasmanian Devil and Yosemite Sam. Without volume control, manners, sympathy, empathy, or remorse, they would inevitably tear through every dish served (well, their spawn would reject the food and openly feed it to the dog off of the side of the table); they would tear through gifts with little or no thanks. There would be loud cursing and bragging about extravagant purchases, immediately followed by asking my parents for money to help turn their water back on. In short, our holiday was fucked. They were, in fact, coming to Christmas again this year. \n\nWe tried to entertain ourselves and alleviate our anxiety with as much humor as possible in order to brace ourselves for the septic tidal wave about to hit us. And hit us it did. Thirty minutes later, the sound of their extremely loud, oversized truck announced that they had pulled into the driveway. Before we heard the second truck door creakily slam shut, my brother and I looked at each other during one last moment of quiet before they left for the evening, took a deep breath and exhaled, \"Shitter's full.\"",
"“Hey Julie, I invited Jenny to your birthday.”\n\n“Are you serious?” Julie asked. \n\n“Yeah, I hope that’s alright.” \n\n“Did Jenny and Rob get married? Did I miss that?”\n\n“No, don’t be ridiculous,” Julie’s mom said.\n\n“Then she’s not family. I said family only,” Julie asserted. \n\n“I already invited her.”\n\n“I don’t care,” Julie said with more force. “You made the mistake of inviting her, now you have the pleasure of calling her up.”\n\n“Jesus, what the fuck is your problem.” \n\n“I said family only!” Julie repeated. \n\n… \n\nJulie had a July birthday. July 2 to be exact. At a very young age she learned that the Declaration of Independence was signed on July 2, but no one knew that. And she proudly informed everyone of that fact until she was old enough to realize how pretentious that sounded, but that was at a much later age. \n\nOn her 10th birthday, Walter, her father, rented out the party room at the Zizzi’s Pizza. There were 8 kids from her class who weren’t gone for the summer vacation, and she personally invited all of them with handmade invitations. The party was to start promptly at 3. \n\nShe was especially excited about seeing Robbie. Two months prior, he had signed her 4th grade class book “Dear Julie, I think you’re smart. Robbie” She was in love. She had spent the last two months picking dandelions and thinking of Robbie. \n\nKari was in town too, and she was going to bring her brother Sam. Kari was one of the popular girls Julie was usually too shy to approach, but Kari’s dad and Walter worked together. Walter encouraged her to invite Kari to the party. \n\nIt was Julie’s special day.\n\nBy the time 5 pm rolled around, Julie looked at her dad, “They aren’t coming, are they?” \n\n… \n\nJulie was turning 30. \n\n“What do you want to do for your birthday hun?” Joel asked. \n\n“I don’t know. Maybe dinner. My brother will be in town. Let’s do something with the three of us. After, maybe we can invite people out for drinks or something.” She suggested. \n\n“Do you want to invite Kristin?” He asked. \n\n“No. Family only.” \n",
"The day the British tanks and infantry rumbled into town, I knew. \n\nBut, just to make sure, I looked up and asked my sister Birthe, \"They aren't coming, are they?\"\n\nWe had been listening to Aunt Tove's wireless over the past couple of days, and had heard what had happened in Berlin. The German forces had surrendered there, so they wouldn't be sending reinforcements here, would they?\n\n\"Field Marshal Montgomery\" was a very hard name for me to say, but I tried, and cheered him and his men on, as they paraded through the high street.\n\nThe British tanks looked so different from the German ones we had been told would be a permanent feature in our town.\n\nAs the last of the parade rolled by, I felt relief. German reinforcements weren't coming. Daddy and Aunt Marianne would be safe.\n\n\n\n",
"Jaq pressed his small palms hard into the window, staring intently at the blue giant that slowly shrunk in size. In his left he clutched the silicone hand of Gorden, the small android he had been given on his eighth birthday.\n\n\"It's beautiful,\" Jaq said, his warm breath condensing on the thick glass.\n\nGorden was a gift from Jaq's father, who had, for only a few days, managed to get some time off to spend with his family. He was like that, always off at work, flying to a different station ever so often. Sometimes it was Antarctica, sometimes the Arctic. Twice, he brought back small individual snowflakes, encased in a small preservation holder, one from each pole. Jaq feigned sleep most nights, waiting until he could hear the smooth click of his mother's bedroom door sliding closed, so he could sneak off to the videoscreen and call his father.\n\nIt was their secret, and one they kept well.\n\nThe blue world was fading away now, looming eerily in the darkness and silence of space. From behind it came the unwavering shine of a million million brilliant stars.\n\nJaq's father hadn't been able to come home for his ninth birthday.\n\nOn his tenth, a crestfallen Jaq had blown the candles alone, with his mother and Gorden cheering him on. \n\nHe and his father kept up their ritual of nightly videocalls, but they became less frequent, and his father was less able to answer his calls. \n\nOne day, Jaq didn't call.\n\nThat summer, the hottest one in two centuries, Jaq had heard his parents on a videocall.\n\n\"I checked the data again this morning.\" His father's concern was evident in his strained voice. \"It's definite, and it's not going to change.\"\n\n\"There could be a mistake in the data,\" urged Jaq's mother. \n\n\"There's a 99.93% certainty in the results. I double checked, and triple checked. I did the equations myself. The computations are right.\"\n\nHis mother's shoulders sagged, and their conversation continued at a whisper too hushed for Jaq to hear.\n\nThat summer, Jaq's mother became worried, an emotion he could see in her eyes. She went to sleep later, and sometimes Jaq had heard what he thought to be sobs coming from her bedroom.\n\nThat summer, his mother packed their bags, and had stared for a long moment at a family photo they had taken during a vacation years ago, before delicately placing it in the suitcase. Jaq was five, and his father hadn't been quite so busy with his work.\n\nThen they left.\n\nAnd now they were on the *Terraborn*, a monolithic ship that had made Jaq gasp in surprise when he had first seen the large black letters on its smooth white hull.\n\nHe looked again at the planet, now just a small marble in the foreground. Jaq’s felt a pang of emotion as he stared, overwhelmed with a sense of desolation that he was unfamiliar with. He slid his right hand into his pocket and looked down as he took out the snowflakes, bright white crystals of ice lying on individual black squares. Jaq traced his thumb over the smooth glassy top, and looked up again, towards the world on which, somewhere, the person who had given the snowflakes to him stood.\n\n“They’re not coming, are they?” He asked Gorden.\n\n“No,” came the answer. “No, they’re not.”\n",
"Brody and I crouched quietly by the pine trees. The moonlight peering through the clouds above illuminating my brother and I as if a giant search light had found us. I try to stay as silent as possible, but my legs are restless and ready to take off at a moments notice.\n\n\"They aren't coming, are they?\" Brody whispered, fumbling around with a pine cone.\n\n\"Shhh!\" I respond angrily, but then realize how loud I am. \"We need to give them ten more minutes.\"\n\n\"But if we stay here I'm scared we'll get caught. Remember what Bishop said about people who run from Paradise?\"\n\n\"We're fine.\"\n\nI fix my gaze onto the collection of buildings in the valley below us. I can only make out dark rectangular silhouettes floating around the always illuminated Temple Grounds.\n\nI turn to see Brody whimpering softly, trying to control himself while wiping tears from his face.\n\n\"Brody, Jeremiah and Gill need our help. We promised we'd wait.\" I try to explain calmly.\n\n\"But what about Mom and Dad? I don't want to never see them again.\"\n\nBrody is still young. He doesn't realize that if we stay, he'll go through the same torture all boys here go through once they become men.\n\nI will not let what happened to me, happen to him.\n\n\"I can't explain it to you yet, but we need to leave this place for both our sake. Maybe when we're finally...\"\n\nJust then we hear a truck horn echo repeatedly through the valley below and my heart stops. The windows from most of the silhouettes begin to light up one at a time until a small town reveals itself around a great steeple.\n\n\"Travis...\" Brody begs, but I'm stuck in place. Either Jeremiah and Gill were just caught trying to escape or our parents just realized that we had.\n\nThe loud, inaudible booming voices of the Elders yelling below send terror through my soul.\n\n\"Travis!\" Brody tries again.\n\nMy lip quivers and I want to cry, but I finally force out the only word I can think of.\n\n\"Run!\"",
"An old man sat in a hospital bed.\n\nIn reality, though, he was not that old. He was at least fifty, maybe. Not a day over sixty, and definitely not old. \n\nOr so he tells himself.\n\nShit he had done in the past, things he whole-heartedly regrets has aged him greatly. He has had needles up his arms. He had consumed so much booze that some nights he woke up and forgotten what he did, who he did and where he was. Sometimes, just barely, he can taste the bitterness of the thousands of cigarettes he had smoked in his mouth.\n\nWhen he was thirty he thought he was invincible. He thought he had everything in check and that it wouldn’t spiral out of control.\n \nHe thought his wife wouldn’t leave him, the kids too. He thought his own sister wouldn’t turn her back, or his little brother would ignore his calls.\nThe destructive things have caught up to him, however. He quickly learned that he wasn’t invincible, that this body of his had a limit, an expiration date.\n\nHe also knew that relationships weren’t so easily repaired—just like his body.\n\nThey still send money occasionally, knowing that it won’t go into his addictions. However, everything was always cold and distant. He wasn’t entirely sure if they’d ever forgive him, really.\n\nA nurse walked into his room, greeted him with a warm and friendly smile, but still strictly professional. The young man had quickly checked up on his vitals, marked things down and asked questions about his health. Before he was finished, the old man spoke, voice raspy.\n\n“They aren’t coming, are they?”\n\nThe nurse looked at him quizzically, smile faltering just slightly. “Ah, who do you mean, Mr. Pham?”\n\n“I mean my family. They aren’t, right?”\n\nThe nurse looked almost sad for a brief second, as if pitying the poor old man. He quickly smiled however, “I’m sure they’ll come visit you, don’t worry. Anyway, I need to go check up on the other patients. Have a wonderful day Mr. Pham.” He had said in a reassuring tone, before leaving the room in a hurry.\n\nAfter the nurse had left, he had closed his eyes.\n\nAn old man sat in a hospital bed and wept.\n",
"“They aren't coming are they.” He stared down at his tennis shoes, his head stuck between his knees as he hugged them close and rocked slightly back and forth.\n\n“I don't think so,” I sighed as I rubbed his back. It made me feel worse that he wasn't crying. That the rejection in his voice was almost palpable. Like we had crossed a threshold, another milestone. Like a birthday that held no cake, no presents.\n\nWe sat in silence like that for a long time. Cars passing us down the street. \n\nHe didn't even look up in anticipation. He knew they weren't coming. There would be another excuse. “We're too busy. We'll make it next time. It's just so . . . uncomfortable.”\n\nI had tried to explain. Just because it hadn't worked out, that happened. I understood. It was a challenge. There were other things to consider. Their other children to worry about. They hadn't been prepared enough for the acting out, the issues. I understood their concerns. But they weren't mine.\n\n“He's already been through so much. I understand that this isn't going to work out, but - how you leave him is just as important as how the next family will stay!”\n\n“We just – we'll try.” The phone had gone dead.\n\nI had cursed at the situation under my breath for a while. It wasn't a complete surprise, but they had told Abe they would be there for his birthday so many months ago, back when things were fresh and new, and he didn't forget things like that. Promises burned and scarred him.\n\nMy phone buzzed again in my pocket. I ignored it for the fifth time. I'd catch hell from Tess, but she'd come around. The noise made Abe finally lift his head.\n\n“You have to go.”\n\nHis voice had aged again. It broke my heart. “There is a family for you Abe. You gotta believe me. I will find you a home.”\n\n“Sure thing Al.” His voice was tired and as he stood he looked more like an eighty-year old than an eight – I caught myself – nine year old.\n\n“I'll see you in a couple days, okay? We'll go to McDonalds again. That'd be fun wouldn't it?”\n\n“Mmm hmm.” He said, his head seemed to hang by a thread, dangling down his chest. \n\n“Hey,” I stood up and put on my stern voice. \n\nThat shocked him and he turned around, flinching as he did so, a long imbedded reflex from earlier times. \n\n“You will get through this!” It came out as a command more forceful than I intended. “I will make sure of it.”\n\nHis eyes grew wide, and I could make out a slight moistness gathering at the edges. His heart hadn't completely frozen over, and that made all the difference to me.\n\n“It's okay Al. I know you tried. I'm just – it's just I...”\n\n“IT – IS – NOT – YOU!” I didn't even remember striding up the steps to grab his arm. “It just wasn't your forever family okay!”\n\n“I'll never - “\n\n“Don't you say that.” I said, hugging him close.\n\n“But I want a forever family.” He sobbed as I stroked his hair, thanking God I still had time with him. That he hadn't given up yet. \n\n“I know buddy. Until we do, you'll just have to make do with me okay?” \n\nI knew it wasn't what I was supposed to say, but I couldn't help it. I knew the problems he had. Knew the chances for him. But I had to keep hope alive. Like a soldier, it was always the battle in front of me I fought. Praying and hoping for a break to win the war.",
"The dead palms slapped against the other side of the door and finger bones raked across the thin metal skin. The man shoved his shoulder against the door until it latched. He spun the deadbolt and grabbed the kid. The banging only increased as more caught up to the building’s back door. “Some might be in here, keep close.” It’s a good thing that neither of them would need to leave through this door. The dead didn’t give up, they had nothing but time.\n\nHe pulled out his flashlight and hefted a full whiskey bottle. It wasn’t much but they had lost so much along the way. The man looked around service entrance for threats but it was clear. Nobody must have thought to use this place to hold up. They crept down the hallway, the kid knew not to make any noise, it was why he was still alive when nobody else was. Christ, the kid was only six, but the two of them had been through enough to last several lifetimes. \n\nThey left the service hallway and entered a carpeted area. The stairway entrance was not far off. He slowly pushed the door open, the kid was watching his back. No signs of life or unlife in the stairway so he stepped in, continuing to look for a reason to bolt. The kid entered behind him just as another flashlight shone into his face. \n\n“I’ll be taking that whiskey from you, and you’ll be leaving the way you came.”\n\nThe bandit lowered his flashlight and racked a shotgun. It sounded hollow and no spent shell left the chamber. He smiled as the bandit aimed his shotgun at his chest. “I don’t think so. This isn’t yours.”\n\n“Like hell it’s not. I’d prefer not to shoot you in here, hurts my ears.”\n\n“You’re not going to shoot anyone.” The man lowered his bottle to the ground and stepped to the side. \n\n“Now back away and leave.” The bandit shifted uncomfortably.\n\n“I don’t think so.” He stepped forward and swung the flashlight. It was a hefty chunk of milled aluminum taken from an ex-security guard. The bandit dropped the shotgun to block with his arm but it was too late. The heavy flashlight connected with his skull and the bandit fell onto the bottle. The sound of breaking glass rang off of the concrete walls.\n\nThe kid grabbed the shotgun and held it out to him. In a disaster like this, everyone would have guns, but eventually nobody would have ammo. He was no exception. “Nothing more than a fancy club, but I guess it’s all we have now.”\n\nThey began their way up the stairs, even though everyone living within ear shout would have heard it, they still crept out of habit. They were several floors up when they came across a pile of wreckage. It didn’t completely block the path, but it was clear someone had tried to barricade the stairs. The man rethought his earlier assessment about how empty this building would be. They were just about past when he felt something snag his pants. The barricade shifted and something fell on his shin. His calf burned and he pulled himself free. \n\nHe hopped up the next few stairs. The kid looked at it. “You hurt?”\n\n“Just a little, but I’ll be fine.” The man tested it for a break by putting some weight on it. The burning didn’t increase with weight so he hoped the break wasn’t going to give. They continued on their way up the stairs and the burning eventually was replaced by numbness. \n\nThey came to the top of the stairs and left the stairway. He looked down the hallway and saw that the sun was beginning to rise. Just like he knew they would, the windows overlooked a helicopter pad. \n\nThe kid’s eyes lit up. “Let’s go and wait for them out there!”\n\nHe ran to the door but the man stopped him with a word. The kid looked around and saw something even better. “There’s a snack machine in there!”\n\nThe man limped over and saw the food safely stored behind the plexiglass. He took the shotgun and swung a few times. The bolts holding the plastic to the inside of the door began to shear and he popped the corner in. Using the barrel of the gun, he levered the glass down and out and then ripped it out. The kid laughed for the first time in days as he grabbed a bag of cookies and tore into it. The man then smashed the lock off of a soda machine and pulled out a can.\n\nThey loaded their arms with junk food and limped out to the helicopter pad. He walked over to the edge of the building and sat down with a grunt, his feet dangling over the open expanse. The city was dead. There was no movement in the early dawn light. Even the fires had stopped burning. There were no helicopters in the sky or planes in the air. The kid sat down next to him and laid his head against the man’s arm. \n\nThe man’s leg had gone completely numb and he pulled up his pant leg, seeing the bite mark for the first time.\n\nThe kid was silent for a few minutes and then asked, “They aren’t coming, are they?”\n\nThey never were coming. Nobody was coming for them. This was the end of the false hope he had used to convince everybody to try to make it up here and hold out until someone did come along, but nobody was coming. \n\nThe numbness had crept up his pelvis and was beginning to spread to his gut. “They’re coming. Why don’t you get me another bag of cookies.”\n\nHe would be able to get back inside. Roof doors never locked. That was unsafe.\n\n“Sure.”\n\nThe kid got to his feet and headed back across the pad. The man waited until he heard the door slam behind him.\n",
"It was my turn to host the orgy, and I was nervous about it. Set up was everything. I had the loft space, tarped of course, a table of foodstuffs. I had set up bowls of condoms and piles of throw pillows. I didn't have any of the hardware Ginger did, no St. Andrew's Cross or spanking horse, but I had taken care to turn the heat up so people would be comfortable. 9:00 came and went, and no one showed. I checked my calendar--yup, the 15th, I was definitely up. 10:00 rolled around. No one. I was starting to get nervous.\nAt about 10:30 there was a knock on the door. Jason had arrived! I opened the door and was shocked that he was in the blue shirt that he always wore after sex. It hit me then. Ginger had thrown a get together at her place, with all the fancy lighting and the techno.\n\"They aren't coming, are they,\" I said to Jason.\n\"Sweetie,\" he replied, \"Most of them already did.\""
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I apologize if this is too specific.
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[WP] The relatively clean sport of Pokemon battling is fantastic. Sadly this eclipses the dark side of the Pokemon world. Illegal "death-matches" are fought for improbable amounts of money, and the disgusting industry of "pokemon cuisine" is booming. Give me something gritty.
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[
"From Geosenge, the unlikely pair had wandered from town to town, stopping only to battle those who either asked nicely, or asked for trouble. The latter usually ended up far worse than the former. Dizzy's terrifying power came from anger and spite, which made her performance in the \"friendly\" matches a lot worse. The Pokemon in question tossed the remnants of yet another chair in the air, doing the closest imitation of a human giggle that a Ralts could muster. Her trainer sighed and pulled out his wallet. He'd stopped counting after Dizzy destroyed her twenty-fifth chair. Not long after he paid the owner, the bits of chair fell down. Dizzy's head was cocked, and she shook.\n\n\"Again?\" her trainer asked. The abnormally small Ralts let out a strained cry. The boy blanched.\n\n\"This is the third time this week,\" he muttered to no one in particular.\n\n*They're too young for this! They're going to die before they start living! Why do you humans do this?!* He knelt down next to his partner, and bit his lip.\n\n\"Which Pokemon? And what can you see besides the warehouse?\"\n\n*Slowpoke. Their tails are being harvested, and the rest...ah!* The chair bits flew outwards.\n\n\"HEY, keep that thing under control!\" The boy glared at the previous owner of the chair, before turning back to his Pokemon.\n\n\"If you can hear them, they must be nearby. Which direction, Dizzy?\"\n\n*Those docks we passed earlier. Oh, and one more thing.* The boy stopped in his tracks. The chair owner yelped, as his own sign smacked him across the head. The sign floated deliberately in the air, a few feet in front of him. Then, it snapped in half and fell.\n\n*Cheap hamburgers my ass. Meat's expensive around here, thanks to the dock worker strike.*\n\n---\n\n\"She's so very noisy, isn't she?\" the man in black asked the Malamar next to him. The creature raised a tentacle.\n\n\"Going straight to the docks. Pity that no one will see them again. Make sure of it.\" The Malamar glowed briefly. The man smiled. He'd taken great pains to shield his operation from the prying eyes and minds of Pokemon, but he hadn't banked on a Ralts picking up on the distress of the Slowpoke. Luckily, this duo hadn't alerted the authorities. He chuckled, as he thought of a proper welcome for the unsuspecting victims.\n\n\"And tell the greeting party to snap that insolent Ralts in half for breaking my brother's sign.\"",
"\"Oh, hey, I-\"\n\n\"Talk about bad timing.\"\n\n\"Aw, you ain't mad about all that business all them days back, are you?\"\n\n\"Last week? You're bad for this world, Pauly, and that's a terrible thing to be on an occasion like this.\"\n\n\"Whatdya mean? What's the occasion?\"\n\n\"You been sleeping all day? The city's destroyed. And everything it stood for.\"\n\n\"Huh? How? You can't shutdown a whole damn-\"\n\n\"Look.\"\n\n\"What the hell happ- You!\"\n\n\"Us.\"\n\nLight burst from the sphere at Pauly's feet, lighting the terror in his face for all to see.\n\n\"G-Grady? Is that-?\"\n\n\"What could be more appropriate than this? The Charmander you used to breed a thousand more, just to send to the slaughter at the whims of the wealthy and inhumane. Charmander, you have the reigns on this one.\"\n\n\"Char!\"\n\n\"Oh Jesus, I know I messed up, Grady, but don't-\"\n\n\"Wow, didn't even give him a chance to really feel it, Grady? Well you're better than me, then, because I'd have burned him from the feet up.\"\n\nAnd they began the walk to the final part of the castle, where the king and his army of Pokeballs would surely be. Mutilated, genetically altered monstrosities designed to rape and destroy - they would be fun to make extinct.\n\n\"Remember what Squirty did to that one guy who killed his parents? That was disgusting.\" ",
"A bit late to the party, but here goes;\nI can hear yelling just outside my cage, the ringmaster calling in other fighters. I wouldn’t expect the last fighter to die so easily from the last match.\n\n\nMaybe he didn’t want to fight anymore.\n\n\nThe battles started out as friendly competition, but when the president was assassinated, everything fell apart. Everyone lost their jobs, and became filthy and poor. The matches turned into bloodthirsty fights. Killing your opponent was the goal, rather than knocking them out. Whoever had the fighter that lasted through the most fights, they get the most money. Money is the only thing they care about anyways.\nI absent mindedly pick at the steel collar my master made me wear so I couldn’t escape. Thick, stainless steel that would deliver a painful electric shock if I hit it too hard. It has a long length of chain that leads to a post on the ground,hich is only unhooked when I need to fight. Normally I could easily break it with my claws, but master kept me weakened at all times. The only time I had more energy was right before a fight, where I get a massive needle of adrenaline injected into my chest. That kickstarts my body’s healing process, and makes me strong enough to fight.\nThat’s the only reason master loves me now. Before the assassination, he was happy go lucky, and treated me as a partner. Years of battling had made me strong, and it made him proud. He truly appreciated our friendship more than anything.\nBut now…..Now he’s a corrupted bastard that only uses me for my power. I have the ability to conjure powerful illusions at will, using them to deceive my opponent. Pair that with the strength to take down an army, and you have the perfect fighter.\nI was the only one who had never lost a match, so other people from around the globe loved to bet on me. The ones that didn’t often lost boatloads of money. Master used to keep me in good condition when the ring fighting started, feeding me well and keeping me clean. But as he grew more greedy and tainted, he paid less attention to me. After his first million dollar-win, the corruption started. That was when he stopped grooming me. I used to do it myself, but I ended up getting so weak I was unable. My once glossy black fur was now matted and tattered, and covered in dried blood. As if that wasn't bad enough, the cage itself was dank and musty, the cold ground covered in my own excrete. Once the grooming stopped he would only feed me after I won a match. That doesn’t sound like too much of a problem, considering I’ve never lost, but there are times where I'll go days or even weeks without fighting. I'm now a skeleton compared to my old self. My ribs are showing, my spine is showing, you can even see the outline of my pelvis for crying out loud!\nAbout 3 years ago he stopped feeding me at all. I was forced to eat the other fighters that I killed in the ring. Although my species is mainly carnivorous, it bothered me to know that I was killing another being. Sure, it's just like hunting in the wild, but I haven't been in the wild before. I was hatched from an egg when master first saw me. I was fed store-bought food, so eating others felt unnatural at first. But now I've done it so often it's become second nature. Instinct. I crave the coppery taste on my tongue, the feeling of meat on my fangs. Just the thought makes me salivate!\nI heard my name being called into the ring. I groaned as I stood up from my previous position on the ground. The gate at the front of my cave opened up, letting bright light into the dim room. I shielded my eyes to avoid the burning view. I walked into the edge of the ring, only to be met by a team of 16 men. They all worked to hold me still, since I hate my adrenaline shot. I struggle with enough ferocity to make a few of the men lose their grip, even throwing one back a few feet. But I'm too skinny and weak to fight properly. The long needle pierced my chest, and I hissed at the painful sting. The powerful hormone racing through my veins cause my body to go into battle mode. My muscles tensed, my bloodshot eyes widened to saucers, and I leapt from the grip of the men. They quickly run to the seats to avoid being killed by me. Now up to full energy, I look at my opponent. Quadruped, with white fur and three black claws on each foot. His face was cat-like, and black in color. Red orbs locked on to my own blue ones, and he swung the scythe like appendage on his head at me. \nI tried to dodge, but ended up getting hit in the shoulder. Better than getting hit in the eyes. Rolling back to my feet, a murky red aura surrounded my claws, which were a sharp crimson. I charged forward and slashed his flank, earning myself a cry of agony from my opponent. I smirk at his pained expression. A decade in this ring made me just as corrupted as master. \nTurning around to face him once more, I cut off a chunk of flesh from his haunches, briefly licking the blood off my claws. The adrenaline helped to put my instincts in control, too.\nWhile the fighter was trying to charge up the energy for an attack, I crossed my arms in front of my chest to make an X shape. A dark ball of energy formed at the center. I launched the attack and it morphed into a large swirling beam of energy, which hit the fighter in the chest. I could hear his bones breaking from the hit, the sound was like that of a bomb going off.\nHe spazzed and shook in pain while the attack slowly took his life. While he was coughing up blood on the ground, I looked to the cheering crowd above me.\n\nDisgusting humans.\n\nI quickly realized I had excess adrenaline, and decided to use it to it's fullest. I threw my arms above my head, then slammed them back down with enough force to break concrete. A massive plume of black and red aura launched from me, and completely eradicated most of the audience. Some people tried to run, but they only succeeded in helping me kill them.\nMaster was trying to open the door and run, but I had used my illusions earlier to prevent that. To him, the door is locked. To me, it was destroyed by my previous attack.I strode towards him with a glare that could make the devil himself cower in fear. Grabbing him by the throat, I threw him against the ground.\n\nMaster should have taken responsibility.\n\nI kicked him in the ribs, sending him flying several feet back. He choked up blood, then had the audacity to call be a monster.\n\nMaster was the one who made me like this, yet I get the blame?\n\nI lifted him up again, then punched him in the jaw as my mind ran through my memories. Our memories.\n\nHe should have fed me, housed me, cleaned me.\n\nI press my claws lightly against his throat, anticipating the sweet taste of revenge.\n\nBut above all, he should have loved me.\n\nI ripped open his tender flesh, leaving a devastating gash in its wake. I greedily licked up the crimson rivers gliding down my paws.\n\nAfter all.......\n\n\nI am only a reflection of you.\n\n\n",
"“Have you ever seen another Chandelure glow so bright?” He can only stare at the bright purple flames as they flicker to and fro in the slight breeze, trying hard to focus on her question. “It’s because I make sure my darling eats only the best.” She reaches a couple fingers out and rubs along one of the curved lines of the lamp-like Pokemon’s body. It gives a call and focuses more on him, the mouth curved up and eyes narrowed. \n\n“O—Only the best?” The group around them is silent, but drawn in close and the energy is eager. \n\n“Souls.” She grins maniacally. He stumbles to his feet, his singular Pokemon already recalled and unconscious and attempts to back away, only to find the rest of the group blocking her way. \n\n“H—Hold on—I didn’t—I don’t—” He stammers out, getting more and more panicked. \n\n“Oh, but you did. Did someone not tell you the rules of this battle?” There’s a long silence during which grins break out on many faces of those gathered around. “Of course they did.” \n\n“I didn’t think it was serious!” He screams, throwing himself at the human barricade in an attempt to get free and failing as it only strengthens with each attempt. \n\n“We are very serious.” She points one long finger towards him. “We have found you sorely inadequate. Not only were you unable to land a scratch on my Chandelure, you failed to bring any other Pokemon than a weak Raticate to challenge with when you were informed of what you would be facing beforehand.” Her hand forms into a thumbs-down and the lamp Pokemon gives an echoing cry. “The punishment for bringing such stupidity and weakness to us is death.” \n\n“Death. Death.” The low chant carries through the group for a few seconds, chilling him to the bone. \n\n“I—I can rethink, please!” He holds his hands up in an attempt to fend off what he can see coming. \n\n“You had your chance to think beforehand.” She smiles cruelly. “Mera. If you’ll please.” The Chandelure gives another echoing cry as its eyes glow brightly and the teenager screams in agony, purple flames leaping up around his body. “Burn the bonds and feed my darling.” His body twitches and convulses until it drops to the ground and the flames die away, his body unscathed but eyes dead. A Pokeball rolls from his lifeless fingertips. \n\n“Death to Weakness.” The statement is repeated over and over through the small group until she picks up the Pokeball and applies a Revive to the rat Pokemon inside. \n\n“Death to Weakness but not death to her unwilling followers.” She releases the Raticate and it sniffs the air nervously, looking to its dead Trainer. “You are free. If you come back again with another weak trainer, you may not be so lucky.” She leans down to smile at the Raticate. “So do try not to come back.” It gives a frightened squeak and scurries away, towards a gap that the group has made. The Chandelure laughs and dips in close behind the rat Pokemon, giving it a burn across one side that would last the rest of its life before the lamp-like creature returns to its trainer. \n\n“Forgive the unwilling.” Is murmured a few times as she turns in a slow circle, grinning at the group still gathered around her. \n\n“Death to Weakness! Death to his followers!” She yells at the top of her lungs and the entire group breaks into a roar, repeating the statement. “We shall remove Weakness from this world and leave it enriched! Enhanced! Better for all who live here!” A couple of people move forward to remove the teen’s body from where it lay. “Leave Weakness’s child to the scavengers, they will eat well today.” She laughs and starts out of the group’s circle, people clearing the way for her. “Let us continue to clear Weakness from this world!” \n\n“Death to Weakness!” The cry startles a few roosting Pokemon from their trees. \n\nThe group moves with a steady pace, the woman leading the front with her Chandelure floating along beside her. As the body of the teen is left behind, the scavengers begin to converge on the meal that’s been delivered to them, tearing the boy to pieces. ",
"Alron hated his apartment. The darkness was overpowering and was only rivalled by the dank smell that sunk itself into every one of the cheap furnishings the room was messily littered with. Not every part of Veridian city was as luxurious as it was made out to be by the Pokemon league. But it is far easier for the rich to pretend the world of Pokemon was a fun and happy place than for them to believe in the truth. The region was littered all those mummy’s boys and girls who are sent away from home to live a life of ‘adventure’, catching them all and battling their Pokemon until they faint. It was all so cute. Alron could remember the way they had been when he was a boy. He had always wanted to be like them, to travel the region and become a league master. But his family had never had the money. For some forking out the money for Pokeballs was hard enough let alone anything as fancy as a Pokedex. The world was a lot less fair than the league would like people to think. \nThe loud knocking at the door drew Alron out of his spiteful thoughts and into his spiteful reality. “Alron! It’s Kenia; don’t forget you promised to come to my match Al!” Ah Kenia. Perhaps his reality wasn’t quite as spiteful as he thought. He quickly got off the sofa and brushed off the crumbs of his battered Magicarp onto the floor. He’d clean it up later. \nIt made him happy to see her again. She was dressed up for a match. Her battle dress was fantastic; a single piece dress composed of red and white fabric and covered in armour like plates on the shoulders and arms. On the right shoulder plate was the logo of her crew, Firepower. He smiled; she never had been a Clefairy kind of girl. “So are you ready for the greatest match the pit has ever seen?” she asked, smirking a little in the process. He couldn’t help but smile as well. “It’s a random challenger today. They might just destroy you” “Well now I need to get there and prove you wrong” Alron chuckled, whoever was fighting Kenia tonight was in for a rough ride. \nThe pit was a hell hole. It was nothing but a warehouse with a small pit dug into the centre. The fans would cram around the outside and the two trainers would stand on crates at the front in order to be heard over the cheers and jeers of the crowd. As Kenia and Alron walked in the previous match was just finishing. The crowd was ecstatic and the pit was completely surrounded. The pair began to make their way over to the arena, walking down the strip of black market food stalls lined up in a street at the entrance end of the warehouse. The vendors were all desperate to make a little extra cash and were all calling out into the mass of people. “Battered Magicarp! Best you can get!” “Chomp on some champ! That’s right Machamp chews right here everyone!” Kenia sighed and looked upset. “It’s disgusting. We love OUR pokemon and yet we eat the wild ones. It’s just wrong.” Alron tried to hide his sheepishness. “Yeah, um.. I think it’s awful as well” \nThey reached the ring and began to walk through the crowd and towards the challenger’s podium when a slender man wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase pushed through the crowd. He looked disgustedly at Alron and turned his attention to Kenia. “Hello Miss…” “Kenia” “Miss Kenia, I am a representative from the Pokemon league payment organisation and as I am sure you are aware, you owe us a great deal of money.” Alron turned in shock to face Kenia. She was aware of it but avoided his eye contact. “I was going to pay you back. Actually I’m about to get some winnings from this battle…” “I don’t believe you will be earning any prize money from this match as I am to be your opponent.” Kenia gasped and looked incredibly upset. “Now then, either you can pay me now and pay back the league the debts you owe us or you can duel me, get your Pokemon killed and then be taken to the league detention centre.” Kenia’s face was wiped clean of the upset and repainted with a bitter anger. “Well I take option three, say goodbye to your Pokemon and your debt money you corporate asshole” The man grew angry also. “Listen up you little bitch, this case if full of Pokemon all of which can brutally murder yours. So please continue your insolent behaviour so I can enjoy ruining your worthless life that little bit more.” He turned and walked his way back through the crowd and stepped up onto his podium. \nNow it was Alron’s turn to get angry. “You owe money to the league! What is wrong with you? Why?” “It was the only way to keep charmander alive. We were both hungry and he needed food. Everything got desperate and I appealed for some money. Only a little bit! But the league’s inflation rate screwed me, I owe them thousands.” “Look just pay them back. I can help you.” “Don’t kid yourself Al, neither of us have the money.” “But your charmander can’t do this. He is a league official. All his Pokemon will be level 70s. At least!” “I don’t have any other options” She stepped up onto the podium causing the crowd to screech with encouragement and dislike all at once. \nAlron ran forward to the edge of the pit and stared down. He saw Kenia’s charmander standing alone in the sand. The league official smiled to himself and opened his briefcase. He then fished out a Pokeball and threw it into the ring. Alron’s heart sank as the towering figure of a blastoise appeared over the charmander. Kenia looked just as uneasy. The blastoise roared and began to attempt to pound the charmander into the sand. The charmander was nimble and dodged from side to side with what appeared to be ease. Kenia looked surprised and began to bark out commands to her Pokemon. The charmander kicked up sand everywhere and began to hide in the dust. From inside the cloud random bursts of flame would spray out and hit the blastoise causing it to become even more irritated as it continued to pound the ground. Kenia seemed to think she was doing well and was smiling. But Alron could see what the official was doing; it was all just a sick game. The blastoise reared up and fired a volley of water straight into the dust cloud. Then the flames stopped bursting out from the cloud and the dust settled. The charmander was lying in the centre of the ring. Its tail flame extinguished. \n“Kenia!” Alron forced his way through the crowd but was far too late. The only friend he knew was shut away in the back of a league truck. She was crying, she had just lost her best friend and was about to lose another. The last time Alron saw her was through the barred window at the back of the truck. She didn’t even look up at him. She disappeared down a road and out of site. Not everyone beats the league, not everyone completes catches them all. Some just disappear.\n",
"This was it. I couldn't believe I had made it this far. Thinking back, I wished I had never gotten into these illegal fights. They were dangerous, and I knew it from the start.\n\nAs I stared at the lifeless, disembowelled corpse of my opponent's Quilava, I felt a small amount of sympathy and I was reminded of my Mudkip's early days in battle. We used to be partners. Hell, we still were, but times have changed. He's not Mudkip anymore. He's Swampert, but it's not just the outside that's changed. I can see in his bloodshot eyes that the journey I've taken him on has mentally warped him. All I was concerned about was how that made him stronger.\n\nI looked ahead. My Swampert growled as it washed away the splatters of blood from its large hands.\n\n__________________________________________\n\nI had spent so much money on supplies - mainly Ultra Balls. In fact, I couldn't even afford 5 Pokeballs now. It was a stupid idea, but hell did I want that Latios. It paid off when I finally caught it, but then that asshole showed up and stole it from me. THE legendary Pokemon Latios was stolen from me. Something in me snapped that day. The police would never believe I caught a legendary. Nobody would. If I ever found that asshole again, I'd make sure to end him. Nothing in this world mattered except making everyone pay for not believing me.\n\n__________________________________________\n\nThe last bit of smoke from the Quilava's body entered my nostrils, and I snapped back to reality. The final opponent was already prepared. It was him. This was my chance to take away everything he had. To get back what I worked so hard to obtain. What was rightfully mine.\n\nHe removed his coat. The insignia on the shoulder glistened as one of the surrounding fires illuminated the arena. I wasn't familiar with it, but it was clear this idiot was high up in some evil organisation from another Region.\n\nHe pulled a Pokeball from his pocket. Its design was not something if come across before. Purple with a small 'M' in the middle.\n\nI shielded my face as he unleashed his Pokemon. As my eyes adjusted, the first thing I saw was my Swampert's face. Something was wrong. Was that.. *fear*?\n\nThen I looked up. I understood. I froze on the spot. What the hell was that thing? Red and black. Wings that ended in what I could only describe as bony skeletal fingers. \n\nThere's no mistake it was legendary - legendaries are supposed to be banned, but I couldn't muster the energy to complain. I was frozen. Its very presence instilled fear into the hearts of everyone present.\n\"Death!\" someone in the crowd shouted hysterically, a crack in their voice.\n\nMy opponent stared at me, a look of madness in his eyes. As he opened his mouth, he uttered one word. \"Feed\".\n\nA black aura filled the arena as the Pokemon let out a scream even more unholy-sounding than if you were to make a Whismur eat a Cacnea.\n\nThen all at once, everyone in the arena dropped to the ground, lifeless. ",
"I had been hanging outside in the shadows of our apartment building for nearly all day now. Me and Stef and Kahela. I had my Spearow on my shoulder right now, feeding him some crumbs out of my hand. His name is Hyssop. People had been coming around for a few hours, throwing back beers with us and smoking a little something special, tobacco, supposedly with just a pinch of Vileplume powder in it. \"So, is it supposed to be poison or sleep powder?\" I asked Stef, half laughing. \"Sleep'' she answered \"Poison will make yo fucking head hurt.\" I tried it, it made us all very mellow. We didn't talk much for ten minutes, but I felt so loose and relaxed. It wore off after awhile. Kahela decided to break the mood \"So we gonna sit around all day or are we gonna go to the Pit? The fights have been going on for an hour now, I don't wanna miss the whole thing.\" \"Sure lets head out then\" said Stef. We grabbed our bags and started walking towards the place. When we got there, It was obvious it was pretty busy, a bunch of cars were parked outside the old warehouse that had been cleared out. We got to the door and paid some meathead bouncer with an electrode by his side for the tickets. We went inside and were immediatly assualted with the noise and the heat. apparently there was a fire pokemon fighting right now. We went up the stairs to the viewing areas and I could see now it was a Flareon, desperately trying to keep a Nidoqueen at bay. Nidoqueens trainer yelled at her \"GRAB THE FUCKER, SUBMISSION!\" Nidoqueen charged and grasped at Flareon but she danced away breathing out a punishing flamethrower at the same time. Nidoqueen screamed in pain, her natural armor not protecting her fully from the heat. Flareons owner quipped \"Thats right! Keep her away and burn her! Now firespin!\" Flareon began to make a fire twister in the middle of the warehouse. Everyone backed away from the guard rails as the heat intensified. the spinning torrent of fire enveloped Nidoqueen and she batted at the flames in panic, backing up. \"No Nidoqueen! Use rage! Charge her!\" The Nidoqueen charged out of the twister streaming flames, blind and roaring, Flareon cut off the stream of fire and tried to jump away but Nidoqueen kicked her a few feet away. Flareon was stunned, didn't have time to react before she was on her, thrashing with her arms, head, legs. She picked up Flareons now limp form and screamed into Flareons face before biting into her soft belly and ripping out the intestines, tearing and pulling. The cheering was deafening. This was what we had come to see, Pokemon battles at their most brutal. Nidoqueen was returned by the owner, and some men came and took the body away to be butchered for meat. Bet money was passed all around for a few minutes and Flareons owner slunk outside. The next contestants came up and sent out there Pokemon: An Arbok and a Pinsir.",
"I hated it. The noise, the texture of the broken concrete beneath my feet, The smell was the worst. Blood, sweat, burning flesh, ozone, noxious gases, they all mixed together to produce this terrible stench that burnt my nostrils as I entered the arena. We were allowed to bring in one Pokemon each, and only one would leave. We couldn't give orders, we had to let them fight on instinct, it's more \"entertaining\" that way. \n\nWith this I would be risking the only thing I had left for enough money to live in society again. Every fucking second I questioned whether or not it was worth it, but I couldn't go back. I looked at the competition. A Delibird, a Koffing, an Abra, a Graveller, and a fucking Lucario. A Lucario, who the fuck would bring that kind of Pokemon here, you only fight if you know you'd never make it by standard battles. It made no sense to risk such a high value Pokemon, it would sell for more than it would win.\n\nThen I saw what his trainer was wearing. It looked like a bunch of charm bracelets and necklaces, adorning her arms and neck. Ears. Ears, small tails, bones, chunks of rock or metal, a fucking trophy showcase on stilettos. A sadistic fuck with too much money here to make more black market meals. It was over. I couldn't leave, they'd just throw me into the fray. I wanted to throw up. I felt the tears come out, but my throat was too dry to even speak, let alone bawl.\n\nI looked down at him. He was my best friend, my only partner in this world, and the look in his eye told me that he already knew what was coming. I'd trained him as well as I could, he nodded when I asked if he would risk it, and now he's paying the price for my greed and childishness. I wanted to pick him up and go, to just sprint as fast as I could toward the exit. But that wouldn't work. We'd just die faster. There were a few tears rolling down his face and hanging off his whiskers, but he smiled. He fucking smiled. Somehow that made me feel worse. \n\nI was considering whether it'd be less painful for him to die by a Machamp guard than battle, but before I even realized it, the battle started. It was a slaughter. The Lucario used Metal Claw and ripped off Delibird's wing. It grabbed Delibird's bag and flung it at Abra. Before it hit, Abra teleported away. Graveller and Koffing were at it, Graveller throwing rocks at Koffing, who sprayed this caustic aerosol at Graveller. I don't know what it was, death moves are forbidden, and aren't named. But I won't forget the sound that Graveller made. Delibird managed to stand up, spurting blood from what was left of its wing, and attempted to use Icy Wind. \n\nClose Combat is not at all the rapid series of strikes you see in normal battles. It's grappling. Lucario took out its legs first, snapping them outward to ninety degree angles. Then the second wing. Then he just began stomping on its face. The sound of its beak cracking was even louder than its bones.\n\nThe Lucario's trainer just kept laughing as the other trainers wept. Most of them used the common pokemon that they caught just a couple months before. They were only losing money. I was going to lose my partner.\n\nMy Pokemon was smarter than the rest, I would like to think. He was focused on survival, darting through the battles, avoiding any engagement. \n\nThe Abra reappeared next to Koffing and used confusion on it, causing it to start quivering erratically. Then it self destructed. Their shells are porous and nearly weightless, it's how they float, so a real self destruct doesn't send shrapnel, it's just a high concussive force. Not enough to hurt the crowd, but the Abra was gone. The sound was like a wet towel being slammed on a tile floor.\n\nThere was only Lucario left. He set his sights straight on my only friend and smiled. I wish I could tell you that it was a brave battle, that he almost won against the Lucario, that there was some amount of dignity in his death. \n\nThere wasn't. It was one force palm. That's it, it sent him flying, and Lucario ran up, grabbed him by the neck, and started slamming him against the ground, again and again. There were several crunches, as his face was gradually turned into an unrecognizable red paste. Then Lucario dropped him as the crowd roared.\n\nI couldn't think, I couldn't move, I couldn't do anything. I thought I had given up hope before, but clearly within the recessed of my mind, I thought there was a chance, and I was numbed as it was so utterly crushed that it reverberated throughout my psyche. \n\nI ran out and cradled him, I don't even know why. Maybe I was still thinking that there was a chance, or maybe it was just the instinct to hold him, like I could still protect him from the world. \n\nHe didn't move, he didn't breathe. He was gone. I'm so sorry. I always knew you were in the top percentage, and that you had so much potential, and I threw it all away. I am so fucking sorry.\n\n"
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[WP] You sit on the porch for your morning coffee when you see something approaching in the distance. As it draws closer you realize it is hundreds of elderly women screaming and brandishing weedwhackers. They are heading right for you.
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"I imagine this is how people feel during a zombie apocalypse. It takes remarkable mental gymnastics for a man's brain to process that a crowd of stunningly slow, weak, semi decaying coffin dodgers are the greatest threat ever to roll up on his doorstep.\n\nOne issue with this comparison remains, in hindsight. The living dead never brandished garden strimmers.\n\nIt was their singleminded approach that terrified me the most. I wasn't the most athletic individual. Sure, I did weights, but who didn't in this day and age. I went for a run - once every three days. While you would think this would give you a substantial combat advantage on a large group of elderly harridans (and you would be correct) it is important to note that elderly harridans brandishing gardening equipment is an entirely different matter.\n\nThey came in the dozens. I tried to fight at first - I remember the crackle of a strimmer passing merest inches in front of my face before I cut in behind and struck the old bag with an old bag I had to hand. She went down like a sack of aged potatoes, but for every one I struck down, another ten took her place. I took up a boxing stance, one fist tight to my chin. A rookie mistake, I realize with hindsight. Much like the living dead, every strike they unleash dislocates a shoulder. They care not for such injuries, so used they are to them. Holding a guard against such numbers is suicide.\n\nThey fought me back, step by step. Swings from a garden rake felled a few of the coffin dodgers who found themselves nowhere near as adept at dodging garden implements as they were the Grim Reaper. My issue was that they were converging from every direction and being a man of reasonable taste, I didn't carry any weapon capable of felling a grey haired horde.\n\nI had to think tactically.\n\nI knew the door would not hold them long. The sheer weight of numbers and garden strimmers would result in a silver tinted mass flowing through, but I did have one advantage. Their bones were brittle and old. Mine, young and strong.\n\nI thought I could still win. I was wrong. When their aged generals sent the ones with hip replacements forward, I knew I had only one option.\n\nI did not escape unscathed, it must be said. I still bear the narrow whiplash scars to this day. They still hunt me, but now, I am ready.\n\nWhen the silver mass converges on me this day, I shall smite them down with great vengeance. For while their strimmers may be mighty, my chainsaw is mightier.",
"It was whilst I was taking a sip out of my coffee that I heard a distant thudding noise. As the noise became louder, whatever approached became more clearer. A faint outline of hundred or so eldery women, hunched back with years of aging were coming straight towards me with what seemed to be.. what the.. weed whackers? Why is it covered in red splotches of paint I wandered as they came walking slowly within a few meters of me.\n\n\"kiiilll hiimm\" croaked one of the elderly woman and that's when all hundred of them started charging in unison. To call it a charge would be an exaggeration but when there's a hundred elderly Grandma's running towards you holding weed whackers, you start to question reality. I grabbed my Coffee mug and hurled it towards the head of the closest grandma. I missed. Instead it hit the one behind knocking her out. I heard the motorised whirring of ninety nine weed whackers being turned on at once and that's when I started to make a run from it.\n\nI took 5 long strides and jumped over the porch fence. I overestimated my athletic abilities and hit the top of the fence with my shin and fell over. Clutching my shin i looked back and saw they were gaining closer on me, although at a slow pace. Let's see them climb the fence I thought as I got upto my feet and hobbled away.",
"I sat on my stoop, cup of joe in hand, waiting for dawn to spread its fingers across the sky when something came upon me, I guess you could say it dawned on me, that I should look to the west, but don't ask me why. Shockingly enough to my tired eyes, a hoard of old women were approaching with speed, weed-whackers in hand and malice in their eyes - a look of hate. A look of greed. Did they want my land, my house or my belongings? Did they simply want to kill me, and take all that I had on me? Little time it took for me to rise and start running, coffee spilled over and their feet in my ears thrumming. \n \n*Where should I go? What do I do?* I thought as I grabbed my knife and gun, too. I could probably run into town a mile out, or maybe to the neighbor's a few hundred yards south. Either way I'd be hoofing it with my truck out of commission, so I gathered my wits and finalized my mission, brandishing my gun and sheathing my knife, ready to stand and defend my life. \n \nI stepped up to the porch and took my aim while my hands shook and shuddered in the sudden onset of rain. Only a moment later, a sopping wet mop of grey hair emerged from the trees with sagging skin and a glare. Behind her came a mass of moomoos and gowns, silky and floral and dragging on the ground. They were covered in mud from their head to their knees, legs worn down at various degrees. Some were crawling and some were much faster, each one cackling with a gritty and demonic laughter. \n \nHow could they run, walk and crawl without any feet or an arm to catch their fall? The question itself was useless at best as they continued their advance despite the trials and tests. Weed-whackers whirring, grinding my nerves, they crawled over the fence and scared up some birds. As expected, their wings severed in flight, caught by the whackers with furious might. I wasted no time and fired a bullet, slightly off it flew and grazed one woman's mullet. I fired again, hoping for the best, and watched the bullet explode through another woman's chest. \n \nAfter so many rounds and so many kills, the hoard was still growing up and over the hills. It looked like an army, something out of a book that I read years ago in the history class I took. I was desperate and lost, not sure what to do, so I loaded the last bullet and kicked off my shoes. The women hobbled down the lane at growing speeds - if only they really wanted to cut my weeds. The barrel felt cold against my chest, internally warm with the promise of rest. The angle was hard, but I somehow managed, and shot myself in the pacemaker where I was truly damaged. \n \nAnd just as suddenly as I'd seen their deadly advance, I awoke in my bed with wet sheets and pants. I didn't know if I should have felt happy or cheated, but I accepted my fate and got the garden weeded. ",
"Chuck took another sip of coffee and swirled it around in his mouth. It still tasted terrible, just as it always did. Bitter, dry, and incredibly hot. The last part was more so his fault than that of the coffee, as he’d once again forgotten to let it sit for longer than fifteen seconds. Still, even if it were cool, and had it not scalded his tongue to the point that he was considering hospitalization, he knew he wouldn’t like it. He never liked it. The only reason he even bothered drinking coffee was to impress Carla, on the off chance she decided to walk by and see him out on the porch. He wanted to look mature and financially stable, not unemployed and bordering on bankruptcy. Chuck placed the mug down on the side of his rocking chair and resumed watching the road for Carla.\n\nThe street looked a little different this morning. It wasn’t so much that the street itself had undergone some overnight transformation, turning into something entirely different—perhaps a forest path, or whatever streets dreamed of becoming—but rather that it was more crowded. There usually wasn’t much activity at 7:00am on Tuesday mornings around Chuck’s house, save for a few business men speeding down the road in a panicked rush to see who could get caught in traffic first. Today, however, it certainly looked more crowded. Rows of people were slowly inching their way toward him, unidentifiable blobs that seemed to be growing in number by the second as they crest the hill in the distance. Chuck leaned slightly forward to try to get a better view of the commotion.\n\nIt didn’t exactly look like a riot. Then again, Chuck had only been involved in a single riot, and not even by choice. He had been on his way to the market to pick up milk when he accidentally stumbled into a slew of young people breaking windows and looting stores. He tried not to get involved, but ended up being arrested while waiting in line to purchase his milk. The store had apparently been closed, and the broken window he had climbed through to enter was allegedly not an intentional doorway. \n\nChuck shifted in his seat and continued staring out at the mob of people ahead. It definitely wasn’t a riot. They were moving way too carefully. In fact, it almost seemed as if they were limping toward him, slowly meandering their way over at no more than a crawling pace. He stood up and walked to the edge of his porch, resting his arms on the wooden railing. It could be zombies, but he was pretty sure those didn’t exist. Plus, he didn’t think zombies could speak. This mob seemed to be chanting something, albeit rather slowly. He closed his eyes and tried to listen.\n\n“Hack out feed, shave Erica,” they seemed to be shouting.. Who was Erica and why was her juice being shaved? It didn’t make any sense. Chuck waited for them to restart their chant. \n\n“Whack out feed, shave America,” they repeated. So there was no Erica. Still, it didn’t really make much sense, America didn’t have a hair problem as far as Chuck could tell. He resumed listening as the mob moved closer.\n\n“Whack out weed, save America,” they shouted. Chuck opened his eyes and smiled. It seemed he was witnessing a mass assault against weeds, which was actually fine with him. His lawn had long been overgrown with weeds. He could definitely support a movement to rid the world of the vile plant. In fact, he figured he might just join up with them. \n\nChuck began walking toward his porch steps, then stopped. Something was a bit peculiar about the approaching mob. They were now just a few houses away, their features considerably more visible. They’d grown in numbers tremendously while he’d tried to figure out what they were chanting, with more slowly crawling over the hill at the end of his road. Each person seemed to be carrying a weed whacker, with the outer edges of the mob violently mowing people’s lawns as they passed. He’d never seen anyone mow a lawn violently before, but it made sense. Action was the best way to enforce change. What he found strange, however, was the fact that every single person involved was clearly over the age of 80, and that several were soaked in blood.\n\n“Whack out weed, save America,” they chanted, weed whackers in one hand, walkers and canes in the other. They were slowly limping their way toward Chuck. He’d never seen a protest made entirely of the elderly, except for the one time he’d gone to a diner at around 4:30pm. The restaurant had just run out of the soup of the day, which caused an elderly gentleman to begin shouting. Several more joined in, but they quickly quieted down after they forgot what it was they were angry about. Still, there hadn’t been any blood on them then. Chuck wandered down his porch steps and onto his lawn.\n\n>I got nothing, don’t like where this is going so I’m just going to end it here. \n",
"The hum that's been going on for hours is irritating to say the least.\n\nIt woke me up this morning and though it's very hard to tell, it's definitely louder than then. I'm out on my porch, sitting in a rickety old rocking chair, sipping at a mug of black-as-night coffee.\n\nMy neighbors are out as well, sitting on their porches in chairs or swings, listening to the hum. I acknowledge Wally to the left of my house, lifting up my mug and nodding my head. He returns the gesture. I look to my right at Frank and he shouts, \"What the hell is that noise?\" I shrug my shoulders and take another sip, pondering what it might be.\n\nA swarm of bees? No.\n\nA gang of moped riders? Hopefully not.\n\nA landscaping union on strike? Probably not.\n\nWhat the hell is it, then?\n\nWhatever it is, it's getting louder. I think.\n\nI go inside the house and turn on the TV and put it on the news. There's coverage of a house on fire, a man brandishing a pistol in a movie theater lobby, a monkey riding a bike. Nothing on strange sounds. I check the other news stations and again, there's nothing to be found on strange humming noises.\n\nI turn the TV off, throw the remote back onto the couch, and feel mother nature calling me. Walking briskly to the bathroom, I notice I have a message on my answering machine. I hit the play button and go to the bathroom to relieve myself while the message plays.\n\n\"Play message. 'Stuart? This is your grandmother. Hello? HELLOOOOO? STUART? STUUUUUUUART!? I'M NOT SURE IF YOU CAN HEAR ME. BUT I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT I LOVE YOU. YOU ARE THE MOST HANDSOME BOY I'VE EVER SEEN. DO YOU KNOW TH- HELLOOOOO!? STUART, CAN YOU HEAR ME? THIS IS YOUR GRANDMOTH-' End of message.\"\n\nShe's gone a little loopy over the past few weeks. That's the 49th call I've received from her letting me know that I'm handsome.\n\nI flush the toilet and wash my hands and walk back outside. The humming is much, much louder now. Almost deafening. Wally must've gone inside. Frank, too. Actually, all of my neighbors are inside.\n\nThat hum, though. It's definitely coming from the left. I walk into my front lawn, a little tall if I'm being completely honest, and look down the street. What I see makes me question my sanity.\n\nI didn't count, but if I had to guess, I'd say there were about twenty or thirty of them. Twenty or thirty elderly women. Holding gardening equipment. Twenty or thirty grandmothers, holding weedwackers, coming my way. And, dear GOD WERE THEY SLOW.\n\nI didn't know what to do, so I just stood there. Thank God I just went to the bathroom or I might've pissed myself when they stopped in front of my house, revving their weedwackers, looking like they meant business.\n\n\"Move, boy,\" one of them said.\n\nI just stared at them, holding my coffee mug at my chest. \"Me?\" I asked.\n\n\"Come now, sweet child, we don't have all day,\" another woman replied sweetly. Her adoring face then quickly melted into a deathly grimace.\n\nI walked backwards, stepping back onto my porch as they advanced into my yard. I started shaking. I never thought I would be, but I was scared of a group of old women.\n\nWhat were they going to do? Were they going to pin me down and tear my face off with lawncare equipment? Were they going to slit my throat with a trowel? Maybe they were gonna sodomize me with the business end of a shovel. Oh, Jesus...Oh, Jesus!\n\nOh.\n\nJesus.\n\nThey're just taking care of my lawn.\n\nI offered to pay them all, but instead every one of them handed me a twenty dollar bill.\n\nSweet old ladies. I hope they come back.",
"I put down and forget about my coffee. The women spread out into a crescent shape filling the street, trampling flowerbeds, knocking down mailboxes and rolling over dustbins. My first reaction was amusement. There's something comical about any old woman operating any kind of potentially violent machine, never mind hundreds of them. Old women are not threatening. An old woman never succombed to a bloodthirsty or savage impulse, and if she did it was probably against her bad-tempered and abusive husband who, in the space of a few short decades, had wilfully defeated her dignified resolve.\n\nInstead of showing myself to be intimidated I therefore stayed seated in my chair, exaggerating my lack of fear in adopting a slight smirk and awaited an explanation. The women came barrowing through my gate and over my hedges. They came up the path and across the grass. They broke through the verandah and, smelling of lavender and with their glaring teeth stained with the morning's first cup of coffee, they weedwhacked me to a pink slurry that dripped into the space beneath the house.",
"The sea of grey perms made their way over the horizon, like a thin veil of morning fog hugging the street. Some bobbed their way closer to me, others glided effortlessly. *What had I done?* Desperately flicking through the catalogue of my mind in search of an answer, I found nothing. I had been behaved. It was not my time, not yet. \n\n\n\nAs the mass approached, it became clear that the ghostly gliders were in fact on scooters. A ghoulish cavalry, travelling at what looked like a merciless speed. 3, maybe even 4 kilometres per hour. I only had about 10 minutes before this mass was upon me. My coffee wasn't even at drinking temperature yet. With a deep gulp, I glanced down at it. The steam spat back at me, mocking me with its unquenchable heat. \n\n\n\n2 minutes pass, and now I can hear them. The brittle, waspish hum of the scooters slicing through the thick morning peace. The clank of zimmerframe against asphalt that I felt sure I could *feel* beneath my feet. Most unsettling, however, was the song they were blasting out to keep their ruthless march in time. It came from an old wireless that one of the stronger ones had mounted onto the back of her scooter.\n\n\n\n*Come fly with me, let's fly let's fly away* came Sinatra's dulcet tones. I shuddered, and began to sip at my coffee. Goddammit, that's hot. Those witches would love to see my tongue burn. I won't give them that satisfaction.\n\n\n\nAs they neared, it became clear that some were armed. One carried a garden rake, another carried a weed whacker. Several wore belts adorned with still-steaming tea bags and overcooked vegetables. It was no use going back inside. There were too many. They'd destroy my house, perhaps even harm my sleeping family. I had to face them.\n\n\n\nI stepped out from the porch, walked down the wooden steps, and across my front lawn. The grandmas were unphased, continuing their pursuit without hesitation. Once in the middle of the road, I turned to face them. There were only 3 speed bumps separating us. The scooters traversed them effortlessly, one approached so fast that it looked like it might get some air time. Alas, it didn't, but it was darn close. Sinatra was all I could hear now. One of the hags standing next to the wireless swayed with the rhythm, before being angrily interrupted by the elbow of another.\n\n\n\nWith one speed bump between us, the group halted, and Sinatra stopped suddenly. The smell was overwhelming - a combination of stale biscuits, farts and colostomy bags. \n\n\n\n\"W...what do you want from me?\" I demanded.\n\n\n\n\"Pardon Dear?\" came the response from an elderly woman holding a towering flag portraying a skull and cross-knitting needles. She must be the leader.\n\n\n\n\"I said what do you want from me, Goddammit!\" I could feel tears fighting their way to the surface. Hold them in, James. Hold them fucking in.\n\n\n\n\"Language!\" shouted another. The flag bearer stepped forward, now standing on top of the speed bump. No mans land. She reached into her pocket and fumbled, as though the innards were filled with a jungle of wool off-cuts, crumbs and hard boiled sweets. I stepped back, almost stumbling in fear. *What was she going to pull out?* Her hand emerged, pulling out a pair of denchers. With a chilling slurp, she shovelled them into her mouth.\n\n\n\nA bird chirped in the morning sun. I felt a cold weightlessness overcome me, the kind of sensation I imagine one experiences when their brain is deprived of oxygen for too long. It was as though I could fall back and the roads soft bosom would absorb me into its warm confines. I'd be safe there. \n\n\n\n\"We just wondered, lovey, whether you might mind giving Mary's car a push. She broke down just outside her house and it's holding up traffic.\" She summoned one of the ladies behind her, who stepped forward obediently, brandishing a teabag she had pulled from her utility belt. \"Cup of tea dear?\" \n",
"Vance Killjoy took a long sip from the black sludge he called coffee and gazed out into the wide, and seemingly infinite, expanse of desert that stretched out before him. He could hear the stampede coming, and could see the dust cloud rising from it. \nHe picked up the old weathered binoculars that hung around his neck and placed the viewing end to his permanently squinted eyes. He wanted to confirm what he knowed he knew; another stampede of the oldies. They were all old women this time from the looks of their hair and dress. They were wielding weed whackers and runnin right for him. \n \nSure is a lack of lawn for all them weed whackers he said in is head. \n \nThis wasn’t the firs time Vance saw something like this. The first oldies attack took place 12 years ago in a one horse town thirty miles south. Vance had made his way down to take care of an old business associate, and was waiting for the man in his hotel room when the first wave of geriatric genociders rolled in. They carried rolling pins and were hittin and hollerin at anything that moved. It took him a better part of the night, and a full bottle of bourbon, but he left that town the way he found it; hung over and oldie free. \nThere had been countless attacks since then, all on small towns, and Vance stepped in every time. He didn’t have the slightest clue where the oldies came from, even after spending a week trackin em, but he did know that each attack was bigger, and now it seemed like they was learnin, getting smarter. \n \nThats okay, he thought to himself, I been gettin smarter too. \n \nVance got up from his rocking chair and stood, back straight, eyes fixed dead ahead at the oncoming terror. He stomped one of his heavy black leather boots on the old wooden deck. A cloud a dust erupted with the loud mechanical pop of a spring loaded piston. An old farmers pitchfork shot straight up and out from the depths of the deck. He snatched it from the air. The sides of the metal prongs were filed sharp, like knives. \nHe walked forward full of purpose and intent. The soles of his boots moved from wood to earth. The hard packed sand of the desert felt like a friend to him, and the light kiss of the wind a lover. He tipped his brown hat down to block the rays of the rising sun. \n \nThe only one doin some whackin today, he said, is gonna be me.\n",
"I threw my coffee in the grass, opened the door, locked it, peeked through the blinds. They were running like a nurse forgot to close the door at the old folk’s home. Why the weedwhackers though?\n\n\nThey were screaming like William Wallace, screaming like Mel Gibson getting a ticket, screaming like Mel Gibson on the phone with his wife. I locked the other doors, came back, stuck an eye to the window. They were now a couple hundred yards from my place and gaining. I ran through scenarios in my mind, all of them involved punching an old woman. \n\n\nThey finally got to my lawn, stopped screaming, yanked the starter ropes on their weedwhackers. When the engines whirled to life they began cutting my grass, wide strokes, tons of pull on the gas. \n\n\nI thought, “That’s nice, but what about the clippings?”\n\n\nI went outside to talk to them, tell them thanks but I have a mower and I’m not a hundred years old. I can lift things myself and I can unscrew jam jar lids even if someone cleans the knife on the rim.\n\n\nI tapped one of them on the shoulder, nice looking lady with a thinning flowery nightdress and sunglasses like a shoebox. “Excuse me, ma’am?”\n\n\n“Fuck off!” She yelled in my face.\n\n\nIt was hot, so hot. A pinch the shirt on your shoulders and move it around kind of hot. Felt it across your shoulderblades. I moved to the next lady. “Excuse me,” I said.\n\n\n“Fuck off!” She said.\n\n\nThis is when I started getting angry. They say respect your elders but assholes get old at the same pace as nice people, and there’s tons of assholes. \n\n\nI looked up the block and every lawn in my neighborhood was getting the same treatment. Jim was in his housecoat, watching the mayhem, still enjoying his coffee. Katy was doing the same as me, trying to find an ear in the hearing aids and two cycle engines.\n\n\nThey were doing a poor job, cutting it close, kicking up soil. It would dry out in the Nevada sun by noon.\n\n\n“No sprinklers!” One of them shouted.\n\n\n“Get out of the way!” A burly one said, upper lip like a tennis ball in mud.\n\n\nShe crosschecked me with her weedwhacker, not hard but enough to get my attention. “Hey! This is my fucking property,” I told her. She didn’t give me a second thought.\n\n\nI heard a window break. Went around the side to investigate, kept going to the back when I didn’t find anything. The glass on my backdoor was smashed and I heard some of them in my house. Heard other windows in the area break too. I opened the door and there was three of them in my living room, holding their weedwhackers at my face, snarling like dogs on tranquilizers.\n\n\n“What are you doing?”\n\n\nThey poked at me, nylon line buzzing in my face. I'd had enough. I grabbed the middle one’s handle and drove the trimmer head into the nose of the woman on the left. Then I swung the contraption around and caught the middle one in the spongy part of her head, dropped her like she slipped in the shower. The one on the right was knocking kneecaps. “You’d hit an old woman?”\n\n\n“Yes,” I said. \n\n\nRight crossed her in the cheek. Her dentures came out whole, landed on my hardwood and chattered into the corner. \n\nThere was clunking downstairs, sawing. I took the steps three at a time, found two of them in my mechanical room, sawing pipes and clogging them with some type of silicon. I wasn’t looking for answers now, I was looking for a fight. With geriatrics. \n\n\nKicked one in the stomach, punched the other near the socket. Socket fell into my furnace, cleaned some dust I was storing there. Stomach bent over and got my knee for breakfast. I ran upstairs, outside, jumped from my porch, put my treads into nightdress’s jaw. Another was right there and I welcomed her to the roundhouse, gave her a tour.\n\n\nThey formed around me like an old fashioned Jackie Chan movie, sent one to face me at a time. I was throwing my fists and legs around, knocking them out, taunting them. “Who’s next!? Who’s next?!”\n\n\nI took off my shirt, flabby belly sweating in the sun. Ripped a sleeve off, tied it around my head.\n\n\nAfter about the twentieth K.O, they all laid their weedwhackers down and started chanting. “Ohhhhhh, ohhhhhh, ohhhh, her she comes, here she comes, ohhhh, ohhhh, ohhhh.”\n\n\nThe circle broke and the burly one walked through, held her weedwhacker above her head while the rest cheered. The ceremony kind of scared me so I preemptively kicked where her legs met and she fell over and rolled around, holding her crotch. \n\n\nI jumped on top of her, held my fist up. “What are you doing? What are you doing here?”\n\n\nShe said, “All these lawns waste so much water. The planet is in trouble. So we decided we would cut the grass short and clog your pipes so you couldn’t water them. We want to leave a better place for our grandchildren.”\n\n\nI said, “Jesus, there’s better ways to go about it.”\n\n\nNow I have astroturf. \n"
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[WP] Regale us with the tale of Mediocrites, the Greek philosopher whose life and ethos gave us the word "Mediocre."
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"A crowd had gathered at the Academy. Plato had begun to teach a lesson in geometry. Mediocrites stood at the entrance of the Academy and mouthed out the words etched into the thresh hold. \n\n\"Let no one ignorant of geometry enter here,\" proclaimed the gate way, thereby barring those who are incapable of grasping the mundane from gazing upon the eternal Ideas.\n\nStudents rushed past Mediocrites, late to the great Plato's lesson. One of them stopped and looked at Mediocrites.\n\n\"Hey, you coming?\" he asked Mediocrites.\n\nMediocrites merely shrugged. \"Meh,\" said he. \"Maybe,\"\n\nThe vagueness of his own answer coursed through him. *Fools*, thought he. *You meddle with Ideas and your fancy Arithmetics and your funny looking triangles. I, Mediocrites, hold the answer to the truth.* \n\nThe Greek youth looked at him strangely. \n\n\"Adelphos! We're already late, dude. C'mon!\" urged the companion. \n\n\"Well, see you inside, I guess,\" said the youth and he rushed into the Academy.\n\n\"Yeah, sure. I guess,\" called out Mediocrites. He sat on the steps and strained his ears to listen to Plato speak more nonsense. He leaned back and adjusted his toga. Mediocrites couldn't *technically* enter the Academy, with the whole \"let no one ignorant of Geometry enter here\" deal going on. By all rights, he had passed Pythagorean's test. But, just barely. Plato told him that his intelligence was ok. His rhetoric was ok. His grasp of geometry wasn't good, but it wasn't bad either. Since Mediocrites was neither ignorant of geometry nor non-ignorant, Plato couldn't accept him but couldn't reject him either. Hence, Mediocrites found himself sitting at the steps of the Academy. Neither hot or cold.\n\nStaring out in the distance, he strained to see if he could indeed see the Ideas Plato kept ranting about. Instead, he spotted an old friend headed towards the Academy.\n\n\"Hail! Mediocrites,\" called out Nicomachus. His father was one of Plato's most famous student, Aristotle. \"Plato still won't let you in, I see,\" he said to Mediocrites. \n\n\"Meh,\" responded Mediocrites, continuing to stare out into the far distant. His voice was as cool as the ocean breeze. \n\n\"I don't need this philosophy for the real world, y'know what I mean? Like, whatever. I don't even care. I'd understand it, like, super well. But, whatever,\" said Mediocrites. \n\n\"I totally get you! My father is teaching me about ethics and stuff. He says that I'm too young right now, but at around 30-35 years old, I should be totally ready to go,\" said Nicomachus. His eyes lit up at the thought of learning more from his father and his enthusiasm exuded off from his body like a bad odour. \n\n\"So, like, what about ethics is you dad teaching you?\" asked Mediocrites. \"But not like I'm curious or anything,\" he added.\n\n\"Well, right now, dad's telling me about virtues. Like, there are two extremes. You are either really good or really bad. Dad say's that virtue is smack dab in the middle,\" explained Nichomacus, making apparent that he did not understand his father at all. \n\n\"Oh, cool. Cool, cool, cool. Like, you know geometry...but you don't really know geometry, you know?\" asked Mediocrites.\n\nNicomachus nodded fervently. \"Yeah! Yeah, exactly!\" he said with the confidence of one who has not paid attention to Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics. \"Hey, I should get going. Pompeii later? Let's get our freak on,\" he added. \n\n\"Meh, maybe. I'll have to think about it,\" said Mediocrites. He was far too engrossed at Aristotle's teachings to think about the invitation to go to Pompeii. \n\n\"Virtue is not about being really good or really bad...its about being in the middle,\" he whispered to himself quietly. His heart began to beat quickly as his eyes darted to and fro, trying to process this new information. Not only did he figure out the true way of life before the great Aristotle, but he had been living True Virtue all his life.\n\nAs a matter of fact, he was True Virtue, all along.\n\nJoy and ecstasy welled up inside him. He forced back tears of triumph. He punched the air, dispelling all and any doubts of his complete genius. He regained his composure as quickly as he lost it and continued to stare out into the deep abyss of nothingness. \n\n\"Meh,\" he said to no one. \"I'm True Virtue, whatever. If anyone wants to, like, become my disciple or something, that's cool. Or not, y'know. Whatevs.\"\n\nLater that day, Mediocrites sat at a tavern with Nicomachus. Mediocrites explained to Nicomachus his genius, but Nicomachus was otherwise preoccupied by the tavern wench. He followed Nicomachus to a room and waited outside, continuing his explanation. Yet, all Nicomachus could offer was his grunts. Discontented by his friend's lack of enthusiasm for his great epiphany, Mediocrites began to scribble out his way of life outside the room. The sound of rock scraping against stone was disturbed only by passionate grunts and practiced moans.\n\nAnd so it was, that the greatest philosophy unknowingly known and practiced by all who live in suburbia and suffer dead end jobs was written. Outside a room of a brothel while Aristotle's son banged a whore. \n\nHistorians swear that when they found the graffiti, no one was at all that surprised. In fact, no one really cared. It wasn't a great finding...but it wasn't a non-finding. They did, in fact, find something. \n\nSo yeah, that's kinda it. That's the end. \n\nSo...umm^yeah^btw,^Pompeii^isn't^in^Athens^Its^actually^in^Italy^..............\n\n*Edit*: I don't know how to super^script. \n",
"One ancient philosopher whom many historians fail to address is Mediocrites, whose works include, *Real Housewives of Megara*, *The Peleponnesian Shore*, and *Two and a Half Men Because One of Them Is a Centaur*. In 500 BC, he was born to a Spartan father and an Athenian mother. Life was hard for him as he matured into adulthood because his father didn't make a lot of money at *A-OO A-OO* Incorporated. Believing that he'd share his father's fate, Mediocrites took to playing the lute and writing some funky-fresh tragedies (these include the aforementioned works). He didn't expect to be showered with drachmas. He never meant to offend anybody or galvanize rebels. He wanted only to mosey through life like the chorus that crossed the stage. Speaking of which, the amphitheater emptied during his performances, but he never stopped contributing to his art and doing what he loved. \n\nThen, the Persians killed him.",
"Sweat poured down Mediocrites' face as he kneeled before King Ananas. \n\n\"Really? The Nemean Lion? Is there no one more, i don't know, heroic that can take care of it for us?\" A spectator shouted from the crowd that was gathered in the king's throne room. \n\n\"Silence fools! It is by my decree that this hero is worthy of the challenge, may he rest in pe-errrr not let me down\" Mediocrites set out later that day with his knapsack thrown over his shoulder and his slingshot tucked into the band on his loincloth. He didn't know why he decided one day to become a hero, he just figured it would be more fun than a lot of other professions, which is coincidentally how many people in his land of Greece decided what to do with the rest of their lives. Ahhh, sentence structure, he thought to himself while trudging along down the road, you can go wrong so easily, and the bloody commas, it's like they try to mess me up on purpose. He gave up trying to compose his monologue/victory speech to deliver upon his triumphant return just as he entered the plains known to harbor the infamous Nemean lion. \n\n\"Ahhhhhhh\" Mediocrites screamed as he felt a sharp pain in his back. So this is how my sto-\n\n",
"This man Mediocrities was smiled upon by the Gods, showered with cunning by Apollo. He did drink from the cup of wine brought forth upon him by Athena as a babe. At the event of his birth his father did hold him high to the apex of the heavens. \n\n“This babe, I deem kissed by intellect and borne with the curiosity of the whole world. Let him bring upon Achea an age of knowledge and wisdom of which only the Gods may now know.” \n\nTo these words Zeus did reply with silence. Elder Mediocrities took this as a good omen.\n\nMediocrities did take these words of Zeus. He crawled to his feet in his third year. His father burst forth to the streets. “The child has mastered the movement of men.”\n\nTo these words Zeus did reply with silence. Elder Mediocrities took this as a good omen.\n\nIn year eight did Mediocrities become versed in the language of man and Gods. To his mentor’s table he did scribe words of love between men, women, Gods, and donkeys with a knife. Enlightenment from the Goddess Aphrodite said some.\n\nIn year twenty to Troy did Mediocrites march. Able bodied Achaeans marched forth. Mediocrites came to Melenaus. Stranded from the march. Wheels torn from his cart by the Trojan soil. “To what God do I owe this displeasure and rotten fate!” bellowed Melenaus.\n\n“To none!” replied Mediocrities. He fashioned a wheel from a tree trunk cut by the men. The old wheels cast aside. Melenaus moved onward to fortune. Invigorated by Ares this Mediocrities was!\n\nMelenaus thus looked favorably on Mediocrities. In his fortieth year he called upon the man. Melenaus was ripened with age. “You are Enlightened by all you see Mediocrities. How must I rule my kingdom in my old age?”\n\nMediocrities replied “Greatest Melenaus, you must bring from your population average men, and pay this bureau an average sum of gold and they will administer your kingdom in your name with the face of the average man.”\n\n“A bureau! I will call it a bureaucracy.” Melenaus lauded Mediocrities. The Achaean state then ran, without efficiency but with stability. \n\nMediocrities was struck down in hi fify-fifth year during a time of war. Taken by the Gods as he slept in his bed from weakness of the heart. The people wailed to the heavens at the loss of his cunning mind.\n\nTo these words Zeus did reply with silence. The people took this as a good omen.\n",
"Mediocrites rolled off his couch, somewhere around noon. He never could stomach the morning, he was definitely an afternoon philosopher. Rising to his desk, he cleared off all the kraters and kylixes from the night before to reveal his great work. The amazing philosophical thesis which would elevate him above all others in his field and catapult him to the upper echelons of Athenian society.\n\nHe had one word so far. It was a very good word, perfectly written and amazingly sculpted but it was just the one. To be even more specific, it was his own name in big bold script which took up most of the papyrus. He stared at his master work for a few minutes, desperately thinking of something to write. The Muse didn't seem to want to work today so he gave up and went off to the Agora.\n\nIt was late afternoon by the time he had arrived at the market. He was too busy nursing a massive hangover after going on an all-night bender with Praxiteles and some other chap he'd met a few days before. He stumbled into the Stoa, almost tripping over a bunch of Stoics and knocking a painter from his ladder. He slumped against one of the columns, staying out of the shade and hoping to hide himself from the sellers roaming about. Zeno was going on as usual, talking about the universe or something ridiculously grand. Why couldn't he just take a break and enjoy some oozo, Mediocrites pondered, trying to zone out. He'd get a lot more done.\n\nMediocrites sat there for the rest of the day, not doing a whole lot. He wasn't even thinking about the grand scheme of the universe, the nature of man or the intricacies of thought. He just slumped there, watching the world go by. He didn't really care for this philosophy lark, it was just something to do which didn't involve fighting or doing some real work. He had a couple of interesting thoughts though. His thoughts that the stars were actually candles lit by the gods was a nice one and his theory that everyone should just have a wine and chill out had some legs to it, but not enough to really challenge the philosophical establishment. After sitting there until the sun went down and achieving bugger all, Mediocrites got up and sauntered back to his home.\n\nAs he returned, a thought struck him. A thought so brilliant that he thought Zeus himself had whispered in his ear. He ran to his papyrus, ready to flip the entire world upside down. He sat there for a moment, trying to remember his earth shattering revelation. He thought a bit more, and a bit more. He then thought over a cup of wine and a nice bit of cheese. By that point, he had thought so much that he come over all tired and there was no point in trying to think anymore. Scribbling out his perfectly formed word, he chucked his papyrus onto the ever growing pile and went back to bed.\n\nMaybe he'd remember it tomorrow. Yeah, he'll do it tomorrow.",
"\"I know one thing...\" Mediocrites orated in front of his crowd. He quickly glimpsed at the turnout: a couple of men of civilian status, 3 women and 5 slaves.\n\n\"...and *one thing only*.\" He paused for dramatic effect. Someone coughed.\n\n\"And that is, that the sky is bronze.\" He let his words hang in the air. His listeners awaited with expressions unchanged.\n\n*Uh-oh, that's not enough.*\n\n\"Consider, fellow Athenians. *Why* is the sky bronze? It could be cyan.\" Some unimpressed looks. \"Or, black! Or white! Wouldn't that make more sense for some reason?\"\n\nA slave was nodding. He, he gets it, Mediocrites thought. Too bad he's just a slave.\n\n\"For these are the colors closest to the Ideal.\" he continued. One of the civilians held his hand on his chin. He was thinking about it!\n\n\"And the Ideal, is what we should all strive for!\" He pondered his own words. He was reaching a conclusion, but he wasn't sure it made sense.\n\n\"Hence, I propose...\" he remained still, looking at the people below him, promising greatness with his eyes.\n\n\"...that the night is truer than the day.\"\n\nSomeone gave him a solitary clap. He stepped down, satisfied with himself. One day, he thought to himself. One day, I'll get that second clap."
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Hopefully the first in a weekly series of Historical Prompts, where a major event in history is used to spark the creative juices of the writing community.
EDIT: The stories do not need to be 100% historically accurate. I am not expecting anyone to go away and research before writing a story. Hopefully it will serve as a prompt where your imagination can take us on a wicked and wild journey hopefully encompassing the events of the prompt.
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[WP]Historical Prompt: It is 1346 - 1353 AD and The Black Death is ravaging Europe
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"'The Ides of March are heere...Faustin. Run for the hills!'\n\nFaustin dismissed the elderly lady with typical nonchalance. After all, you'd work yourself up in a real frenzy if you took every Parisian soothsayer and their dog at their word. \n He opened the shed before a sight for sore eyes; his Blacksmith family.\n\n'Ma cherie..there's something....\n\n...'Shhh-kiss me forever.'\n\nMadrine waited patiently before revealing the grim news to Faustin.\n\nHe took a sip of cabernet potion before reflecting.\n\n'Let us join our comrades in London. I know Huffington will lodge us after I singlehandedly protected the Royals from war.'\n\nHe gazed at the messy, shambolic shop.\n\n'Matilde, Jean Luc, gather your belongings....we leave at dawn tomorrow.'\n\n The Parisian sun glistened through Le Marais. Faustin appreciated that delicate silence which seemed in full bloom this very morning. \n\n'You shaal not escape Faustin.'\n\nHe didn't even bother to glance at the lady of folly, but something struck him out of the corner of his eye.\n\nTens of people, surrounded by...what was it? Ash?\n\nThe lady tapped him, as he was jolted by her face...dark ash.\n\n'Save your family....'\nShe muttered before collapsing for the last time.\n\n",
"First story hope you like it. Constructive criticism is welcome :)\n\nSurvivors log 01\n \nContainment! We must contain it!! \n\nThese words are shouted at me and my men by a strange man in a mask that reminds me of a bird. What exactly he wants us to contain is still a mystery, but none of that matters to a soldier like me. I was born to serve the crown and their wishes and I will die defending my country wether it be French, German, or Spanish. It does not matter we have faced it before and we will face it again and we will not surrender under any circumstance. \n\nWe are told to march to a small village by the name of Dode. To maintain order and protect the crowns interests which basically means slaughter anyone and everyone who dares to step in front of us. Most of the men are in agreement that some dumb lord has declared for the French so we have to flex some English muscle and show him what for. How I wish that was true.\n\nWhen we arrived we were shocked at what we saw. No French army preparing for attack no lord nothing just silence. The hearth was still steaming so we knew someone had been there recently and was obviously hiding. So I told my men to search the homes. Mind you these are battle hardened warriors some of the best no green boys or old men were present. As soon as the door was cracked men lost their breakfast the smell was that bad. The ones brave enough to go in had an even worse sight. Men, women, and children alike dying blood and pus pouring from large black wounds that covered most of their bodies. This is something wore than anyone could cook up. This was an act of God the end of the world most thought I thought they were right. We put the infected out of their misery and buried the bodies at first. There were too many to contain soon the men got sick and started to turn on one another. Brothers that had fought in countless wars together trusted each other with their lives many times. \n\nThats when I left to live in the countryside. I was good with a sword so I raided villages with a few men we took what we needed and sometimes a bit more, but we only did what we had to do to survive.\n\nSometimes I wonder if I was worth it \n\n",
"His figure was tall and broad, but his entire frame was cloaked in black. His face was covered by a great length of grey hair, masking the visage beneath.\n\nUpon his back was slung a Grosses Messer (German for Big Knife).\n\nit was dark, and rain poured down in chilling sheets.\n\nThe man did not mind. He was no stranger to cold.\n\nThe road was in ill repair. Long sections of it had been swallowed up by the forest that lay on either side, and it was completely flooded in many areas. The reason for the disrepair was made evident with almost every step.\n\nBodies. \n\nThey clogged the drainage ditches on either side for miles and caused the road to become flooded by a great swill of putrid fluids and rotting flesh whenever it rained.\n\nThese corpses bore no wounds gifted by murderous human hands. All had fallen victim to the plague.\n\nThe man did not mind. He was no stranger to the plague.\n\nHe had not seen another traveler in two days now. Ten years go the road had been a bustling trade rout through the central part of the Holy Roman Empire. Now it was a grave carefully treaded on by the few in this part of the country that still lived.\n\nAs he walked he began to make out a glimmering light in the distance. He was undaunted. No bandit would law a trap in such an awful place. Even with the rain, the air still smelled of death.\n\nAs he drew closer he saw that the light was that of a small fire beneath a broad oak at a fork in the road. There was a wagon on either side of it, and at least half a dozen people sitting at the flames.\n\nThe man did not slow his pace or try to go around. He headed straight for the encampment. He was hungry, and he had coin.\n\n",
"Thomas pressed the flat of his hand against a crease in his trousers. His mother, were she not now in a box being covered in dirt, would have scolded him for letting them wrinkle. But he was a man, now, thirteen years old, and could do with his trousers whatever he liked, and that included leaving them in a crumpled mess by the fire.\n\nCertainly he could now, since she was dead. And father had left the house for good after the first black spots had appeared on the backs of his hands. To protect the family, he said. But it was less than a month before mother was scratching bleeding black patches of skin just under the neck of dress. Another couple of days before they were on her face, and a few days more before today. \n\nHer box was joined by many others. The funerals were scheduled. A monthly gathering of the nearby villages. The cemetery was on the top of a hill behind the church at the far reach of Adam Tillson's farm, and tripled in size since Thomas's memory began. Still, it was well kept, and the abundance of flowers by the engraved stone slabs and freshly wet grass from south England's dependable rain gave the scene an ironically cheerful setting. \n\nHe cursed himself and promised a confession for finding it beautiful. Thomas was a man now. Thirteen years old. He cursed himself again as a he felt the tears forming beneath his eyelids. Grown men didn't cry, he reminded himself, feeling the lump grow in his throat.\n\nA woman beside him wailed loudly as a child's box was lowered with ropes into the group grave. She wore black and obscured her face with a large black tissue. \n\nThere were twenty people there besides the father, who was reading in Latin from the Bible. Twenty was nearly all was left from the villages. The rumor had begun earlier in the year that those who survived were protected by God Almighty. Thomas preferred that thought to the one's who claimed that this was the reckoning, and only sinners would be left to roam the Devil's planet.\n",
"I was designated to a battalion stationed in northern England, not too far from London. My task was easy, eradicate the plague. The only problem was that those who were sent this far north before me, never came back alive. \n\nIt was a proud moment for my young knighthood career, but I wasn't looking forward to facing the one thing that was preventing our country from progress. In addition I took a vow and oath to protect my people and my religion from any evil forces. \n\nUpon my arrival I was shocked by the smell of death that haunted the corridors of the barracks where I found myself holed up in. I can remember taking my first step outside of the camp which we were told was infection free. The grim horizon of scorched trees and darkened mud, not to mention the unforgiving stench of corpses rotting in the hot sun. \n\nIt wasn't a place of God, or of Satan. It was paradise lost.",
"Human years are so arbitrary. Three-hundred and sixty-five rotations around a star. So what? The universe existed for a long time before that star even formed. \n\nAnyway, the humans told us the year was 1346. Well, they didn't tell us so much as show us. We snatched one of those filthy primates, cut open his brain, and scanned his memories. After running these memories through our Reconciliator, we were able to understand them in the proper context and cognitively integrate the information within. \n\nThe man we had examined was a typical member of his kind. When he wasn't toiling in a low-yield farm, he was making children with his mate, a similarly filthy primate with longer hair. They would perform their brutish copulation every night, not seeming to understand the limitations of their own reproductive cycles. \n\nThrough our observations we determined that this human was a \"peasant\", a type of worker-caste. He and the other peasants worked to supply and fund the local government. In this particular case, the local government was little more than an obese human that lived in a stone-walled fortress. He would send out groups of men to enforce his rules. These men were usually peasants as well, but they had been covered head-to-toe in crude metal sheeting and equipped with primitive short-range weaponry. Sometimes these men would brutalize the unarmed peasants for some perceived transgression or breach of etiquette. It was a wonder how the humans had even made it this far. \n\nAfter disposing of the human we had examined previously, we decided to take a closer look. Using standard cloaking techniques, we walked through the peasant community, occasionally stopping to examine livestock or the young humans who ran about unattended. We even made physical contact, using our sensory appendages to get a better view. It was very informative, we learned much about primitive humanoid societies. However, there was an unintended consequence of our curiosity. \n\nA few months after our arrival, the bio-scanner aboard our ship began to detect alarming levels of biological contamination. At first, we thought it was something the humans had passed to us. Those grimy vertebrates were hotbeds for pathogens and we were super-sterile space men from Sagittarius, after all. But after sifting through the bio-scanner's data logs, we found out that we were wrong. In a feat of freak nanotechnological spontaneity, the nano-bots that had long since replaced our immune systems had found their way into Earth's water cycle. \n\nIf this had happened on our homeworld, it would have been a trivial matter. Nano-suppression fields were easy to come by, and the bots could be shut-down before they became problematic. On Earth, it was a different matter. Unchecked and unleashed, the nano-bots replicated and eventually found their way into the bodies of humans. It was a disaster. \n\nUnfamiliar with human biology, the nano-bots attempted to adapt. The results were hideous. Humans grew massive, weeping boils that would explode, spreading the nano-bots in a liquefied, necrotic substrate. Their lymph nodes became infected, over-whelmed with nano-bots that tried to replace them. \n\nBefore we knew it, the contagion had spread across large swaths of the Earth. The next several humans we examined had memories that identified the pandemic as something called \"The Black Death\". We could do nothing but stand in horror as the humans struggled to contain the spread of the disease. \n\nWe waited to see if this disease would wipe out humanity. After seven human years, we were relieved to find that it had not. \n\nThey may be an arbitrary, irrational, and superstitious race but their resilience is something worthy of admiration. ",
"The fire raged on before them, engulfing the small village and its inhabitants. There had been no other choice, half of the villagers were infected with the devil's rot and were spreading it to the others. The men with him did not forewarn those who lay sleeping in their beds, instead they locked their doors and set fires to the houses. They had to be sure the disease would not spread. The men with him all had handkerchiefs to cover their faces and so did he, yet they could still smell the dead burning in their homes. Would god ever forgive them for this? Would they ever forgive themselves? Johnathan glanced to his right and to his left, the orange-red glow of the fire illuminating the face of his helpers. Just as they were about to depart a man next to him let out a cough. ",
"\"Ring around the Rosy!\"\n\nMy hand was shaking so much it looked like the torch I was holding would sputter out. The tears keep streaking down my face and as much as I try they just won't stop. I know that if I don't do this more will die than if I don't. I will die if I don't. But that doesn't make it any better, when you know its children.\n\n\"Pockets full of posy!\"\n\nI wish they will stop singing that damn song! It's not their fault, they don't know what is going on. They didn't know the dangers that were plaguing the countryside. They didn't know to not touch that dog, that sick dog they came across while playing in the forest. They didn't know what was wrong with them when the sores started appearing. They didn't know why they were locked up in this house, why doctors continuously came in to check on them.\n\n\"Ashes, Ashes!\"\n\nWe talked about what must be done and agreed on what we wall dreaded the most. I was chosen to carry out the deed, because I was the priest of the town. They thought only a man of god could do this as it could only be that this was God's will. But this is not god's will, what god would do this to children? What god would have parents say their last goodbyes to their children in such a manner? WHAT GOD WOULD ALLOW CHILDREN TO PLAY IN JOY BEFORE WHAT I MUST DO!?!? I only hope it is quick for them.\n\n\"God forgive me,\" I plead as I throw the torch into the Sick House.\n\n\"We all fall down.\"\n\nEDIT: words",
"\"The bad apple must be destroyed\"\n\nThe night was black, the stars covered by the clouds. The Father stood above us, towering with the sword of God in his right hand, illuminated by the flaming torches of the crowd. \"Or else we will all be poisoned. The Lord's punishment of one man will be spread onto all of his fellow men and the punishment is death\". I stood next to my Father, his hands black from moving the dead, what he believed was the duty the Lord had given him. He hoped for forgiveness from the Lord for what he had done and what he will do.\n\nThe Father pointed to the Jew. \"The Lord has punished us for the doings of this man and his people. They poison our wells, murder our children, and yet do not fall sick. They do not fear the lord, and they must be crushed. Do you want those that you love to fall ill with the blackness? We are the sheep and the Lord is the Shepard. He guides us to safety, and we must follow\". Two men grabbed the Jew and dragged him to the center of the crowd. \n\n\n\"Let he who is without sin cast the first stone\""
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[WP] Tell me why you love your significant other.
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"Well it's not so much that I love him, more like we're fulfilling our family obligations. I mean he's a nice guy and all but to be honest, kind of a clutz. I do love him, really I do, but only as much as you can love a cousin that you've known you're whole life. He's a good man, he provides for our family and he's a wonderful father. I'm just not in love with him. I've tried, *we've* tried. I'm not alone in feeling this way. We are two halves of he same empty marriage.\n\nWe kind of accepted our fate years ago after Tiana was born. He'd slept on the couch for three months straight. He wasn't angry about it. I didn't order him there. He just did it, he's noble and maybe a tad chivalrous in that way. We just wanted to be happy, it was a mutual melancholy. I began seeing another man. I told him about it. We talked about my new relationship, like good friends, like cousins. He met a woman, a *white* woman! I gasped and chided him, we talked for hours. I met her, she was lovely. Her name was Jennifer. We had our own arrangement and it worked perfectly. It went on for years, we told nobody but each other. Our little secret.\n\nFazoul's father stopped by the house one day. A normal visit, tea and some snacks. While the kids played and ran through the halls, we talked and chatted about life. The phone rang, I answered. I excused myself and left the room. Fazoul's father excused himself to use the washroom.\n\nOn the other end of my phone call was my lover. I blushed and hid in the kitchen, away from prying eyes and ears. I kept my voice low, looking back to the front room constantly. Fazoul made a kissy face, mocking me. He had obviously caught on. As I said goodbye and hung up the phone, I turned and was startled by Fazoul's father. He *hollered* for Fazoul. I'd never seen a man so angry, so full of rage.\n\nFazoul stumbled in to the kitchen, afraid and shaken. I was berated by his father, he had overheard the conversation. He was angry! Full of hatred. His eyes seemed to burn holes into my head. He yelled, he screamed. Fazoul stepped between us, trying to reason with his father. He laid it all out on the table, all of it. From the very beginning, to the present state.\n\nMikala bugged her grandfather in the midst of it all, tugging at his pant leg. Fazoul's father met her face with a swift back-hand while simultaneously calling her a bastard. I tried to grab Fazoul, I tried to hold on, but I'd seen this face one time before when a man tried to grab Tiana from a store. Rage, a ten fold greater than his father's had welled up into his face. I tried to push the knife block out of the way, but I was too slow.\n\nThe next few moments of my life were a mess. I faintly recall Tiana and Mikala trying to wake up their grandfather. I remember Fazoul standing over his father, bloodied knife in one hand, tears streaming down his cheeks. I remember being dazed and looking up into Fazoul's eyes. I remember him sobbing and mouthing \"I love you\" at me. I remember hugging him and wailing, sobbing \"I love you\" back to him.\n\nFazoul was not my lover, he never was. But he was certainly the love of my life."
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[WP] Population increase and land erosion have progressed to the point that the government has to make a decision. Decide which 1/3 of the population to euthanize or let everyone starve until you've reached a sustainable. The decision is tied and you are the deciding vote. What do you say?
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"You guys are idiots.\n\nSeriously. Our voters are counting on us to serve and protect them and THIS is the fucking BEST you jerks can come up with? Seriously, did i wake up in the twilight zone?\n\nI am the only scientist elected to office in the history of mankind? Heck i don't even need to be. Am i the only SANE man elected to office in the history of mankind?\n\nWho commissioned this report that says those are our only two options? I will cast my vote to execute THEM and only them. \n\nUnbelievable bullshit i tell you. I'll email all of you the link to the term \"False dichotomy\"\n\nSo the situation looks bad, not enough arable land to sustain our population. Have you bureaucratic thumb-suckers considered reclaiming non-arable land? what? no one? Figures. We have the technology to grow food in space for god sakes! I'm pretty sure we can convert any land on earth into something usable depending on cost. Unless the land is radioactive, you can find something that will grow on it.\n\nSo half our country is underwater. All you douchebags that denied climate change are taking it up the ass now i assume? No? douchebags.... anyway. Half our country is underwater. We can still grow food by resorting to aquaculture. Now i know most of the population has never tried seaweed and aquaculture based diets, but now is a good time to start. \n\nSure the development is going to be expensive, but when you're options are starve or get killed you WILL find the means to make food. \n\nI just cannot fathom why a third option, called \"TRY FUCKING HARD TO SURVIVE\" isn't on the table. And I honestly cannot believe you would even CONSIDER euthanizing people. You honestly do not know what the role of government is. Why hasn't the population risen up and overthrown this house of insane lunatics already?\n\nI'm... dammit.... I mean.. THE STUPID!!! IT BURNS!!!!.\n\nI'm going to go lead the rebellion against you. This is one of those rare times where torching you asshats and falling to anarchy would honestly be better.\n\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] The man sat on the bench, seemingly unaffected by the chaos that surrounded him.
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"On a quiet abandoned beach a lone figure sat, slightly hunched on a worn wooden bench. The man was watching the waves gently roll in, barely crashing on the shore. A lighthouse shone in the distance on a rocky outcropping down the beach, but there was no hint of a storm in the clear navy sky. It was dusk, and the heat of the day was being leached away by the night, the sand cooling to a warm comforting touch on the man’s feet.\n\n\nIn the man’s eyes he saw the order of the world, moon pulls water, tides go in tides go out. The rhythmic splash of the water breaking and the occasional caw of a gull was natures’ music, soothing to a troubled mind, and relaxing to a calmed one. Absolute tranquility.\n\n\n The tranquil scene would have dissolved before the man’s eyes if he looked closely enough and long enough. The crabs in the sand were anything but calm, scrambling to get to their holes, scurrying for their lives from the squawking gulls, anxious for their meal. While the water was a glassy placid plane, underneath there was a raging tempest. Fish competed for scarce food in the form of algae and other fish. Predators tore and ripped, prey struggled, fought, and usually died. Life is a bloodbath of strong versus weak with the survivors limping long enough to mate and start the show all over again.\n\n\n“But that is life,” the man may have thought, “Surely the background for the bloody play of life is eternal, if I came back to the beach in a decade it would be the same.” But nature is not obliged to stay static, and not even the rocks last forever. If he had sat long enough the man would see the sand bars shift and move, grain by random grain as the currents twist and carve a new seascape. On land he would see the dunes slowly retreat along with the beach, engulfing the vain towering houses peaking over the rolling sands. Even in the short span of a decade the scene before him would be irrevocably destroyed and imperfectly remade. Chaos is not always quick, it can be as simple as the slow march of time.",
"All around him was utter chaos. \n\nShattered glass, screaming women (or were they men), limbs not attached to bodies, the blood...the sheer amount must surely have affected him.\n\nAnd yet he stayed rooted to the wooden planks of the bench he sat upon. How was it even possible that he hadn't blinked this long?\n\nA man dressed in green ran up to the seated man with a concerned look upon his face. \"Dude, you need to leave the area right now, a bomb has just gone off!\"\n\nA tear rolled down the seat of the seated man.\n\n\"I know,\" he whispered \"I was the one who detonated it.\"",
"An old man sat on a small bench, in Neo-York, to rest his tired feet. He had been walking the sub-markets, looking for cheaper food. But alas it was not meant to be. \n\nThe bench was a nice comfort, however. It wasn't like an old-style bench. This was special. It enveloped him, keeping him warm. It kept him comforted. And in case of emergency, it would bring him underground until the danger passed. \n\nHe watched the people go by, some on motorcycles, some on bikes. No one came down here to *walk*. And most didn't come down here for food. Typically they were there for... let's say, \"temporary companionship\". \n\nHours go by, and he is ready to leave. But he hears someone screaming. Close by. \n\n\"I'll... I'll do it! I'll send you back to the... back to the stoneage! One flick of my wrist, and you're gone!\" \n\"Shoot him, do not let him push the detonator!\"\n\nHe heard gunshots. He heard a man fall to the pavement. He slowly turned his head to see. \n\nBut the man's chest was glowing. Brightest glow he had ever seen. The world was moving in slow motion. He had no time to think.\n\nAnd before he could react, the bench fully enveloped him, and brought him underground. \n\nTo keep him safe from the mushroom cloud. ",
"“Your move.”\n\nThe old man leaned over to study the latest developments. The enemy Knights had moved out on the left flank. It threatened the exposed remnants of the Sicilian line that the King had so carefully assembled. Should he send out his own Knights to meet the charge? The possibilities played on in his head.\n\nThe Knights would clash together outside of his defensive perimeter. A storm of metal against metal, horses running wild, the screams of wounded, the silence of the dead. The enemy King would reinforce with light infantry, moving in the Bishop formation. His own Knights wouldn’t stand a chance.\n\nThe old man thought of his own attack, the Danish gambit. It had unfolded as planned, luring an enemy formation past his line. The ranks had closed after the horses as they stormed past. In an attempt to save them, the enemy King had ordered his soft frontline troops to break up the lines. They charged into certain death. The advantage now lay in the old mans hands.\n\nHe stood up on the battlefield and pointed his bony hand to the far right of the enemy encampment. The King was hiding there behind his troops.\n\n“Forward, heavies! Tower formation!\" he howled to the waiting troops. \"Forward, lights! Bishop formation!” \n\nDrums started beating, and the march of the east flank began. The soft front line screamed as they charged over the fields. The old man was with them, hurling his morning star around him. His body guard, carved a circle around him, as he sunk the metal ball into peasant skulls.\nHe looked up and saw the left flank collapse under the constant harassment of the enemy Cavalry.\n\n“Protect the Queen!” he yelled. Loyal peasant darted in the direction he pointed.\n\n“Onwards!” The old man breathed hard now. His heavy infantry division was faltering. His light infantry was trapped behind enemy lines, their spears defending their lives for now. He gathered the last of his Cavalry and ordered them to circle around in a pincer movement. His own horse was brought to him. As he saddled he saw that everything was in place. The attack was hidden behind two deadlocked divisions of soft infantry. The old man signaled his attendant. A flag was raised. In the distance dust was whirled up into a great cloud as his cavalry hammered into the unprotected flank of the enemy.\n\n“Charge!” he yelled, and all his remaining forces moved with him. A great chaos erupted, and to everyone else who saw him, he was only an old man sitting on a bench playing chess. In his head he was the fearless leader of the Defenders Blood, and today he fought for victory.\n\n“Check,” he whispered as the enemy King appeared. He let his morningstar roam free in the air.\n\n“Mate.”"
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[WP] Scotland votes "Yes" on independence, England invades.
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"\"8th September 20xx. \n\nDear Dairy, \n\nWe are nearly home, if you can call it that now, from the continent with our load. We had some sightings of the Hammer's ships. Thankfully we are nearly home. We are pasting an old haunt of mine, I think will go up and reminisce.\n\nCaptain James McRoy of the RSS Thistle\"\n\nThe tiny sail boat glided across the water, hidden by a seafret which hid them like a thick woollen blanket. The captain of the fragile vessel looked out across towards the rags and coves of the coast.\n\nHe knew this area well. His parents, peace with them, had taken him here many a time before. He had learnt the currents, banks, and tides of this tiny area of the grey North Sea. He had celebrated, with friends (peace with them) on one of these bleached sandy beaches, under a grey-blue sky, licked with the warm ambers which cooked the sliver-grey fish, when he was sixteen years old. It was a happy washed out memory.\n\nThis had occurred sixteen years ago.\n\nThe world had descended into darkness fifteen years ago. Thankfully it had not gone mad.\n\nFor one year they were going to be free. Free. Free from the oppressive English. Free from their laws, wars, and deplores. Freedom was almost theirs. Then the war happened. Freedom was hung \"until the war was over\". At least their promise of freedom had lasted longer than their brothers, the Irish.\n\nAt first, like their brother Ireland, Scotland had helped (half heartily) in the Sassenach's war. Until the SRA raised up. He had joined when he was 19. At first it was against the English and their slaves. After England collapsed into civil war it was against those non-true Scots.\n\nFreedom was almost resuscitate. The Frocks had almost been defeated. Though the devil hides in things with lead to greatness. And the devil had hid his spawn in his Kingdom. Once a loyal officer, now one of the best Generals of the new England, he has been sent north to quill the \"rebel..\"...\n\nBANG!\n\nAir. Cold. Wet. Black...\n\nPull...\n\nHim. Hammer...\n\nNothing.",
"*Excerpt from \"Europe in the 21st Century\" by Manuel Jones*\n\nSeptember 18th, 2014 has rightfully gone down in history as the day Europe went insane by historians, and rightfully so. Although commentators before the referendum were divided as to whether the outcome would be independence for Scotland, not one of them had expected the English invasion after the \"Yes\" vote. Parliament had, time and time again given their reassurances that, whatever the outcome of the vote, it would be respected by them. \n\nCertainly, the Scottish did not expect the newly dis-United Kingdom to intervene, and certainly not so quickly. Not five minutes had passed after the votes were tallied and results announced before the RAF took to the skies, pummelling the every airfield in Scotland. With English mastery of the skies over Scotland assured, the entirety of the newly independent nation lay vulnerable. \n\nTo the shocked observers around the world, it seemed almost certain that Scotland would be forcibly returned to the Union. The United Kingdom's allies were quite aware that such a split would weaken the nation and some were secretly pleased that, despite the outcome of the referendum, Scotland would remain independent. Indeed, only one thing prevented this from occurring: The French revival of the Auld Alliance. \n\nAlthough France was the first nation to respond to what seemed to be an utterly bizarre development, even they wasted nearly 5 days deliberating, before finally coming to a conclusion. The Auld Alliance was to be revived; France was to declare war on the United Kingdom. French commandos crossed the channel tunnel just as the declaration of war was announced, taking the English by surprise. As the French bombs fell on the United Kingdom, one thing was for certain. The European Shadow of War, thought to have been banished from the continent for good after the Second World War, was back. ",
"It had been days since Corporal Wilson had last slept. Hands worn to what felt like stubs. Face stained with the dirt of a battle that raged far longer than anyone could ever have anticipated. Nobody saw the first wave coming. Hindsight is always 20/20, but could anyone at the time have read anything sinister into the restoration of Hadrian's Wall? Perhaps they should have, then Wilson might not have found himself in this situation. Regardless of past mistakes, Wilson was always going to be in the front lines. A proud ancestry of resisting the English stretching back all the way to a pikeman at Bannockburn all but demanded his service, and if necessary, his sacrifice. The dream of an independent Scotland was worth more than any one man's life.\n\nIt took us a thinker like Alexander the Great 2 to lead us to victory on the battlefield of our times, the political stage. It was a victory as glorious as any forged through force of arms, as he faced down the traitor Alastair the Wormtongue in single verbal combat. How anyone could ever have trusted a man with eyebrows a different colour to his hair we'll never know, but our Glorious Alexander showed him for what he really was in front of an audience of millions. Nobody foresaw how quickly the political battle would transition to one of a more...classical nature.\n\nCorporal Wilson wanted to sleep. Corporal Wilson wanted to see his family again. Was that dark wet patch spreading on his torso a sweat stain, or something more sinister? Perhaps it was the morning coffee he had spilt in the heat of a pitched encounter. Wilson had already lost 13 drones today. Make that 14. The respawn counter ticked...10...9...8...Intelligence had reported the English would have exhausted their latest shipment of Chinese drones two days ago, and yet they kept coming. 7...6...rumours had been spreading like wildfire that the English had sourced new shipments from Latvia, and even that they were using child soldier pilots. Even that some of these child soldiers were inverting their Y-axis, lord knows what sorcery the English had resorted to to win this war.\n\n5...4....3....Private Wilson took a sip of his Red Bull and squared his jaw. He thought back to his ancestors, and all doubts fled his mind. He would finish this or fall asleep trying.\n\n2....1...once more into the breach my friends. Once more into the breach.",
"\"Sorry, old chap, is this the way to Edinburgh?\"\n\n\n\"Ach, no. You're heading in the wrong direction.\"\n\n\n\"So sorry. This invasion business is frightfully difficult to get the hang off.\"\n\n\n\"Oh it's no bother. It keeps a body warm a laughing at you Englishmen.\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes, we must look a ... Hey! you should be scared of us. Fear the empire.\"\n\n\n\n\"Oh I cannea fear you. I just cannae. I just cannae fear you. \" \n\n\n\n\"Well, that's awfully rude of you. Why not?\"\n\n\n\n\"Well you see, you see englishman, it's because we have a secret.\"\n\n\n\"Secret? What secret? Do go on. You can't leave us hanging like that.\"\n\n\n\"Okay, okay. Seeing as you're a polite chap I'll tell you about the secret.\"\n\n\n...\n\n\"Soon I hope?\"\n\n\n\"I was just pausing for dramatic effect. Only fitting for a secret weapon. Pause over!\"\n\n\n\n\"You're still pausing.\"\n\n\n\n\n\"Oh yes. Apologies, englisman, apologies. Anyway the secret. Well, you see englishman the secret is we have an... alliance\"\n\n\n\n\"A secret alliance! With whom?\"\n\n\n...\n\n\n\n...\n\n\"WITH THE POLISH.\"\n\n\n\"Oh bugger.\"\n\n\n\" WE'R TAKING YER FROM BEHIND ENGLISHMAN. WE'R TAKING YER FROM BEHIND. \""
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[WP] Death himself has died inexplicably, describe what happens to humanity next.
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"He had always been there. They didn't realise that weight on their hearts and mind was him of course, but he was there. Humans had come up with many names to describe the depressive feeling - most simply called it the passing of time. They lived their lives in fear of him, in remembrance of him, in awe of him. Forever conscious that they were running out of life, that sooner or later they would stop being, and would be forgotten. For most, this made life a frenzy of sensory input and regret. He hadn't minded the job or the title though, it was an honour almost! But then he died. It was less that he died and more that he stopped existing, or rather that humans didn't need him anymore. He had no idea how they did it, yet they had found a way to continue their existence. They would each have a beginning, but now they found a way to cease having an end.\n\nApart from the initial tentative efforts to make sure they couldn't die e.g. jumping from a building, over-eating, swallowing shards of glass, a deep and visceral change occurred.\n\nSomething, some weight, some...heaviness lifted from their beings. They lived slower but searched deeper. They loved more truely but no longer grasped. It was in their smile. The warmth of a sunset and the longevity of stone. \n\nDeath had died, and they had become free.\n\n",
"As death is destroyed but injury and the breakdown of age remains what is left is an unimaginable hellscape of pain. No one is allowed the sweet release of death. Beheading victims lose their bodies but the agony of their exposed nerves remain. They lack the blood to move but instead are locked in suffering for eternity never decaying never ceasing pain. This is repeated all across the world as people's hearts still stop. Their bodies no longer move causing medical professionals to erroneously declare people dead. Millions spend the next thousand years burried alone in their suffering in total darkness. The only hint the \"living\" have about what is going on is that cremations \"dont work like they used to.\"",
"I don't get it.\n\nI mean, how do I die. Me. Azrael. It doesn't make sense. But here I am. Just like them. Mortal, I think. As mortal as one can be at the moment.\n\nMy job was simple. Hasten the movement of souls from Point A, the Corporeal plane, to Point B, the Ethereal Plane.\n\nThen I died. I saw myself die. I felt myself die. I always thought it would be more painful, but yet I am still here. \n\nThat all happened 6 weeks ago.\n\nThe mortals are rightfully confused. No one has passed on, the hearts keep on beating. It makes no sense to me either. \n\nI am now sitting in what is left of a coffee shop now in the middle of Syria just watching. I saw a man blow himself up last week in the front of this very shop. He seemed surprised by the lack of virgins when the remnants of him landed. Well at least as surprised as half a living head with burnt off eyelids can look. \n\nI have tried keeping up with the world news, hospitals are filling up, the people are still getting sick, but no one is actually dying. Especially in Africa, tens of thousands have come down with Ebola, because they think \"God\" has prevented them from dying. They seem to forget that these illnesses still exist and although one is not actually able to die, they can still be functionally dead, just a rotting burden on their families. A little selfish if you ask me, but no one ever does. \n\nAt least the Americans are making this a little tolerable. I love their spirit of adventure. We have already had a world record for the highest skydive without a parachute. Sure, he is unable to move and very likely will never again, but he has a record to his name, I guess he has that.\n\nI really don't know what I am going to do here. I don't need to eat, nor sleep nor anything the usual mortals do. For that matter, I don't know if they need to either any more. They still seem to out of habit though. I think I will stick it out here for another week or so then perhaps move on to a more populated country, at least for the entertainment. Perhaps Eastern Europe. Those Russians are moving into Ukraine, no one will stop them because no one can. How do you stop 100 thousand people who can't die, who never had fear of it anyway?"
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[WP] The US has legalized assisted suicide, and a new crop of companies have sprung up to help people off themselves with "minimum hassle and cleanup."
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"Now folks, gather 'round gather 'round. Let me get a good gander at yous. Ah, anyone 'round these here Bottom Springs feel a little sluggish? Do the days drag on? Do you find no matter what you do, life just lost that certain spice?\n\nThe people huddled around the man. His whiskers were thick, curling to the corners of his nostrils. A desert wind sweeps over the people. Tiny veins flow with blood around his collar. A bit chubby. His coat jacket spreads at his belly. The ground cracks with dryness. Another cloudless day.\n\nImma take a few minutes if I can to talk with you about a wonderful product, one of the best discoveries of this early century. I've created a number of medicinal oils, such as the wormwood curative, and the male reinvigorator, in fact I thinks I sold one bfore to that gentleman just yonder.\n\nThe mass chuckles, and the man swears he's never seen him before. For all the destitution, the feeling in town square is like an oasis. The man's charm was crisp. A buzzing sound with the drying crack of bone. A calf's skull parks his wagon wheel. Flies swarm the horizon like small sunspots.\n \nWell listen here, I have a new tonic. Now, this isn't my ol' Wonder Elixir, no this sure aint gon bring yous newfound youth, but I do call it my Years-Be-Gone Youtheniser. Since the bomb, it does seem that some dryness has visited this place. \n\nThe crowd murmurs. We haven't had rain in the last year one says.\n\nAnd it seems to have stripped you of your substantive ownership and satisfaction, has it not friends?\n\nMost tracks in town led to and from a yard filled with crosses. Water couldn't be wasted, spatters of blood shown prominently against the sunwashed wooden houses. \n\nThe mood drooped, as if the circle had fallen into a great pit. Well don't blame yourselves, I just came from over yonder. He pointed past the mountains. Now cover the youngins ears please.\n\nThe children were just as bleached as the houses. They were dry and dirty, their eyes were barren. Now you go on, said a mother, and the kids acquiesced.\n\nLadies and gents, I say you have but a months worth of time left here. There's nowhere else to go. This here horse is the only other living thing you'll see. Our world is dyin. Whya think the suits back east legalized this stuff? I already see somuf ya already gotta killin. You could try to make it down thataway, to Redfox Gulch, but both yous and Is know the dangers out there. Radiation aint nothin to shrug about, yous and your children will bleed out through yer skin. And besides, there's nothing for you to find there but more of this most unfortunate dryness. This here is painless, he held the vial to the sun, and it shimmered. In fact, the death is downright enjoyable. Just apply vigorously to the skin, and you and your loved ones will slip off happily together before tomorrow. \n\nThe town bought a bottle a head. They gave all the coin they had, they knew they'd no longer have use for it. The confidence man tipped his hat, and headed off down the road. With the last of the sunlight, the people applied the oils. Darkness extended its arms across the mountains and over the town.\n\nThe sun scorched the earth the following day to sounds of sobbing. The confidence man arrived safely in Redfox Gulch. The town which flows with water.",
"Are you tired of living?\n\nHave you tried to go on, but found it's just too hard?\n\nWell now there's an easy way out!\n\nIntroducing the LifEnder System ^^TM!\n\nBefore, suicide was a *pain*. You had to *work* to get out of the ranks of the living, plan *ahead*, and say goodbye to your *loved ones*. If that wasn't enough, or your plan didn't work, you had to deal with *The Man*. And even if you succeeded, what a *mess!* \n\nBut not anymore!\n\nLet the folks at LifeEnder ^^TM plan, clean up, and say goodbye *for you*. Our courteous, professional staff wants to help *you* die! Today! With many \"exit\" options including lethal injection, hanging, gunshot(s), overdosing, asphyxiation (bag, pillow, gas, or otherwise), \"jumping\", and much more!\n\nAnd they'll take care of the cleaning! No more *stinky bodies* or *toxic fumes*, no more *blood*, and no more *pests*. Our highly trained staff can get rid of all that in real time! They'll even redecorate if you plan to do it on/in your property!\n\nHaving difficulty thinking of the words to say to your loved ones? Why not have someone else do it! We have a staff of passionate, well read individuals who are well versed in voicing the woes of the suicidal. With many delivery options!\n\nWanna go out in *style*? Take a look at our *deluxe* options! You can choose from public scene, facing the person who \"motivated\" you most, or even create your own! It's like Make-A-Wish on *your* terms! You can also upgrade to high-end stationery for your \"goodbye\" note(s) and we offer skywriting (discounted rates for skydivers)!\n\nSo what are you waiting for? You've probably chickened out yourself before, but we won't! Call LifEnder ^^TM today! \n\nIf you call us within the next half hour, we'll give you 20% off the regular rate to leave you a windfall to give to your children, pets, or favorite charity!\n\n^^^^Void ^^^^where ^^^^prohibited. ^^^^Terms ^^^^and ^^^^conditions ^^^^apply.\n\n---\nedit: typo",
"Although my assessment of suicide has always been that people reserved the right to intentionally commit self-murder in the privacy of their own environment, being an accomplice to the actual act was enough to make me change my mind - *it was going to pay incredibly well,* which was enough to make me stay my course.\n\nI was assigned to *\"Co-Conspirator Annihilation Labor\"*. At the time, I wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but the word \"annihilation\" was screaming for me to *get out and get out quick*. I didn't listen to my instincts; humans will do anything for money, won't they?\n\nWalking down the tiled steps into the basement level, I was hit with a putrid stench of decay and rotting flesh. The walls were eroded, the ceiling's paint was peeling off and falling onto the ground - *the place was a mess*, but what could you really expect from a place where people come to commit self-mutilation and suicide?\n\nI was tired of the smell, but it was only the beginning, as stepping into the main floor of the basement was even worse than I would have ever expected. Janitors were mopping up blood and entrails, dumping mutilated bodies into large dumpsters, and even cleaning up the splatters on the walls. It was clear that the smell was emanating from the mass suicides; I felt vomit spit up through my throat.\n\n...that's just what was in front of me. I cocked my head to the left; dozens of people lined up to hang themselves from the rafters of the building. I turned to the right, people plugging their heads with bullets from a variety of guns. The vomit that was once in my throat ended up on the floor, splashed into a gooey-mess. \n\nI heard someone shout from across the factory, *\"You the new guy?\"* - it goes to show that I booked it out of there, called management from the restaurant across the street and told them I quit. It was for the greater good, but psychological, I was already beaten to shit. \n\nThat's why I find myself here again. Not as a worker, but as a customer. Not as someone who vomits at the sight of death, but one who embraces to a point where self-obliteration seems rather pleasant. Suicide is a good option and this is the place to do it.\n_______________________________________\n*((I wish I had more time to write this out, but I was strapped for time and didn't want to end up forgetting about this prompt. My response was rushed, but I still hope you enjoy.))*",
"\"Thank you for calling Happy Endings, where the end of your life is no longer pending. How may I assist you today?\"\n\n\"Uhh, hi. I'd, uhh, like to be dead?\"\n\n\"Ok, sir. Could I please get your name, number and reason for no longer wanting to live?\"\n\n\"...um...\"\n\n\"Sir?\"\n\n\"Yeah, uhh, my name's David Andrews.\"\n\n\"Ok, David. And is this your personal number your calling from today?\"\n\n\"Yeah\"\n\n\"Ok, very nice. Now in a few words could you please describe why you've decided to bring your miserable existence to an end today?\"\n\n\"Well, I don't really have any friends. My family has all but abandoned me-\"\n\n\"Alright, I'm gonna stop you right there David. It sounds like you are a \"Depressed, Lonely, Loser.' Would you agree that this is an accurate description of yourself?\"\n\n\"Uh... well... Yeah, I guess so.\"\n\n\"Great, great. Now is there a specific way you'd like to leave this cruel world behind?\"\n\n\"Well, I had a gun pointed at myself the other day, but decided not to go through with it.\"\n\n\"Ahh, a bit of a coward aren't you David?\"\n\n\"What?\" \n\n\"Nothing to be ashamed of David, that's what we're here for.\"\n\n\"No, I just.. just didn't want to leave a mess behind is all.\"\n\n\"Mhmm\"\n\n\"I hanged myself from the ceiling fan! It would have worked if it hadn't broken.\"\n\n\"Bit of a screw up, aren't you David? Very understandable.\"\n\n\"Hey, what the fuck? Aren't you supposed to be helping me?\n\n\"Yes David, assistance is our specialty. You mentioned gunshots and asphyxiation. Are these your preferred methods of execution?\"\n\n\"No! Or.. yeah I guess. I don't know.\"\n\n\"Come on now, David. We need to make a decision. A man's life is on the line!\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"Just a little morbid humor to lighten the mood. Now, back to your timely demise. Would you like to hear our offers on Firearm Related Death?\"\n\n\"Ugh. Yeah, sure.\"\n\n\"Well right now we are running a special on Dum-Dum bullets. For the low cost of $2999, we will come to your home and make sure nothing is left of that ugly mug of yours! Additional costs for clean up and disposal may apply.\"\n\n\"What!? NO!\"\n\n\"Alright, David. Is there a specific bullet you wish to pierce your cranium? Or a powerful rifle to sever your spine if you'd like to keep your face in tact for your lonely ceremony?\"\n\n\"God, no. Fuck it, no guns!\"\n\n\"Alright, David. How about suffocation? We are currently running a great deal on Autoerotic Asphyxiation. Would you like to hear more?\n\n\"...yes.\"\n\n\n",
"\"Odio este trabajo.\" My co-worker whispers as his call ends. I don't understand him, but the sobless tears dropping onto his keyboard say enough. Nothing out of the ordinary. Most dispatchers don't like it, especially in the first week. I pay them no mind. It's not my job. No, my job is to dick around on the internet while waiting for assignments. It pays very well, and has somewhat random hours, with flexible shifts. Most people wouldn't like it, but it suits me just fine. I don't need sleep like most. The average four hours per night is a very loose average for me. \n\n\"Hey, Tony, how ya' doin'?\" An rough, uneducated voice pops up from around the corner. I minimize my window and turn my head to the left. \n\n\"Well, and you, Finn?\" I keep my voice clean and crisp as I go through the motions of normalcy, but the hairs on the back of my neck stand up at his words. \n\n\"Slow day, JoAnn brought donuts this morning, nice day. I like donuts.\" He says, and I chuckle. Finn's not the brightest bulb in the box. He spent fifteen years in prison for armed robbery. Somehow he mixed up the bank with the Dunkin' Donuts next door. It made the news, and the Guinness Book of World Records, right next to the guy who glued himself to the floor of a factory. After that, EndCorp was the only place that would hire him. \n\n\"Say, y'see that Mexican? Be nice to him. He's got the same name as you.\" Finn observes. \n\n\"Anthony?\" I inquire politely. \n\n\"Sorta. Antonio Verde. Verde's Spanish for green. Same as you, Tony turquoise.\" He shows yellow teeth in his grin.\n\n*Green.* I think. I appreciate Finn's shot at alliteration, but it annoys me, in the same way that all ignorance rubs me the wrong way. It's not worth correcting Finn. Often causes a few issues with management. \n\n\"Hey, kill cubicle, anyone there?\" Someone calls, using Matt's joke name for us. \"We got a rush job.\" \n\nI poke my head out, and see Matt's wavy black hair. That's odd. His voice doesn't normally carry such a strong Southern lilt. \n\nMatt coughs. His nose is running. \"We just got a call from guy who wants a Dispatcher right now. In Little Italy. House call. Up for it?\" He asks. \n\n\"Of course.\" I smother a grin. \n\n\"Go to the van in the back lot. The one in the front lot's taken.\"\n\nFear rushes through me. Will they find my tools? They are well hidden, but who knows what a new guy might do? \n\n\"I already put the directions in.\" Matt says. \n\n\"Okay. I'll be back when I'm done.\" My shoes are soundless on the carpeted hallway floors, but click slightly on the asphalt outside. I open the door of the silver van, and adjust the seat before turning the car on, and following the built-in GPS's directions. It's a nice day to be driving through the city, and I open the tinted window to hear all the sounds and get all the smells, despite the late June heat. All too soon, I pull up to the small bakery. I take the printed case notes Matt stuck in the car, and read through semi-attentively as I walk around to the back. \n\nI enter the deserted kitchen, as directed in the case notes. \"Hello? Is Lorenzo here?\" \n\nA tall, skinny, dark-skinned man enters the kitchen. \"I'm Lorenzo.\" He says. His voice is unaccented. I'm slightly surprised. The people I most often Dispatch are relatively new immigrants. \n\nI recite my required lines and Lorenzo nods along. It's all routine and perfect. My eyes wander to a large cleaver in a sink, where all the blood has not quite been washed out. \n\n\"Can I leave first? Lorenzo asks. \n\n\"Sure.\" I say, matching his vernacular to make him more comfortable. He doesn't see me dry the cleaver quickly on a hand-towel and slip it into my coat as I exit the building. \n\n----\nI don't know what's 'wrong' with me. I wish I could say it was my childhood, but plenty of people come out of things like that just fine. No, I think I'm just like this. I know there have been plenty of people like me throughout history, but now, if I'm careful, I can conceal it, and live as I wish. I'm quite happy with my life as is. It's something new every day, within a few routines, and rarely boring.\n\n----\n\nI put the cleaver back in my coat as I get out of the van. As I hand the wheel over to Matt, I inform him carefully, in case someone's listening. \n\n\"This one was a little messy, but the cleanup won't be that hard.\" I tell him. \"Careful of the head though.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\" Matt nods, and the corners of my lips pull up as I marvel at the beauty of the situation I engineered. \n\n\"And save me an eye if you want your wife to get water this weekend.\" I amend, and feel satisfied as I see his face tense. ",
"Detective Farmer was a few months short of retirement and he had been assigned to the \"Euthanasia Division\" after he had dropped papers six months ago. His primary duty now was to confirm that the deceased had indeed ordered their own passing. Every single one of his cases so far had been open and shut with obvious clues that the murder was staged by a professional Suicider. \n\n\"Meet Your Maker\" was the premier Assisted Suicide firm and the cost for their services was exorbitant. Their \"Suiciders\" were the best at what they did, and what they did was based on the company's \"Menu.\" One Menu item in particular was \"Unsolved Murder.\" This Menu Item is what Detective Farmer usually encountered during his eight hour shifts. Meet Your Maker and the Police Department had an understanding - the Suiciders would leave behind a specific forensic calling card. This ensured that the lead Detective knew who \"dun it\" but also allowed for the general public (and family) to believe the particular client was actually murdered. In turn, the Department received a kick back for not ‘solving’ the murder. It was legal, in a sense.\n\nDetective Farmer took inventory of the scene in front of him. It had the look of a Suicider murder, but it also felt wrong. The ‘victim’ was a young business woman; attractive, on the rise, single, and now dead. She was strangled, which was typical of a Suicider (the client usually did not want to upset their family with an overly gruesome death), but she had also been raped and drugged. He expected to discover the telltale clue, indicating a Suicider murder, somewhere within the high rise apartment, but was not having much luck. The clue he did find was not current on the Suicider list. He remembered it from previous approved lists, but this was from an expired list. *Damn, Farmer thought, so much for skating through to retirement.* This was a murder disguised as a suicide disguised as a murder. \n\nFarmer produced a flask from his spot coat and took a long pull. *This is going to be a bitch.*\n"
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[WP] You're a free Genie living in the real world and still discretely grant wishes when you hear them. Tell me what it's like to be you.
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"I wear a hoodie now. These granted wishes are best left faceless. Human knowledge of a passerby with the power to make wishes come true is dangerous. For them. The very hope that keeps the human race ticking could depend on this. The chance that their dreams can come into fruition, the fact that there may be one person that could change their entire fortunes would be overwhelming and dangerous to say the least. Overwhelming to the desperate. Dangerous in the eyes of the greedy.\n\nThey say there is a chance they may understand someday. A chance that they may change their ways. I like to verify the validity of this, one person at a time. Dare I say, the world is both better and worse than I had first thought. \n\nThe wind howls as I look up to the sky. I feel a snowflake hit my cheek. I look back into the alley I was walking through. The same alley in which I could hear that couple fighting. The same alley in which I heard the cries. The same alley in which I saw so much pain. There is none of this now. Only silence. And until these wishes result in such, I'll keep my hoodie on. Faceless, walking, as I say to myself, \"I guess not all wishes need to be granted to become true.\" ",
"From a bottle, you see humanity's ugliness in sharp relief. \n\nI didn't know good people existed for ages... my pool of reference was vastly skewed. Until the day a little girl (quite by accident) picked up my humble abode. Surprisingly, this was a first. I had never had a child's hands summon me before. I had always been kept close and jealously by the greedy and rich adults of the world. \n\nThis child was different. She saw the world in a way that was a direct contrast to mine... and it was beautiful. \n\nShe didn't ask me to grant a wish, didn't ask me for anything for herself at all. Mostly, her questions were about me. What was my bottle like? Did I get cramped from having to squish up so small? Was I ever lonely. \n\n\"I watched Aladdin,\" she told me one day. \"Aladdin wished to free his genie. Do you think that if I wished for you to be free, it would work?\" \n\n\"I don't know,\" I told her, honestly. \"I wouldn't waste a wish on me, though. Don't you want anything for yourself?\" \n\nShe told me no, that her life was perfect as it was. She was happy, and she wanted me to be happy, too. So she wished for my freedom. \n\nSurprisingly, I retained the ability to grant wishes, and I used that ability well for my little friend. Anything she wished for, she received (although, frankly, getting her to wish for anything was like pulling teeth). \n\nBut then... the accident. The death. \n\nMy freedom had lost all its flavor without her. \n\nIt took me a long time to regain any sense of purpose in my life. I wanted to use my wish-fulfilling abilities well, in honour of my lost friend, but I was afraid of feeding into the corruption so prevalent in the bodies that surrounded me. \n\nMy current residence is in Atlanta, Georgia. I wander the busy streets, looking for those who have lost hope. I want to be like my little friend to these people. I want to pay it forward, so to speak. \n\nMostly, I talk to the homeless. They have the time for conversations, for exchanges on the coloured-glasses we see through. Rose-coloured glasses are few and far-between in this God-forsaken planet. There is too much smog and grime and filth that fogs up the lens. \n\nStill, I am hopeful that I can make a difference here. Perhaps I can't change the world, but maybe I can take a few out of their bottles. \n\nI've got to go... that old gentleman on the park bench wished for a four-legged companion. Do you think a Golden Retriever will do? ",
"Granting wishes isn't as easy as it seems. You don't just snap your fingers, or cross your arms and nod. No, there's more to it than that. You see, it's all about looking into a persons soul. Everyone has one, but not all souls are good. In order to grant a wish, you look for the pure, the kind, the deserving, and you grant them just one wish. One. Not three. You know, I still don't know where Hollywood got that idea. In any case, I, for the most part, get to pick what I want to grant. However, there are some rules in place for wishes. \n\nFirst off, yes. They're your basic run-of-the-mill genie rules. But they are there for our own protection. We don't want a repeat of the great catastrophe of 247 a.d., but...uh...that's getting off topic. Anyway, the rules. There is no asking for more wishes, infinite wishes, more genies, no end of the world wishes, no wishes that result in the erasure of ones existence, and there's absolutely no messing with free will. Sounds pretty simple, right?\n\nWell, sometimes, you don't look far enough. You only scratch the surface of a person and you grant wishes without thinking. Like, for instance, there was a biker who walked into a bar I frequent. He was tough, surly looking, and he caused problems for all the patrons. And to make matters worse, he began drinking. Heavily. He harassed the girls, he pestered the bartender, and I was getting furious. \"Come on people,\" I thought, \"someone make wish!\"\n\nBut unfortunately, there was nothing, and I had just about enough of this guy. I was going to grab my coat, leave my tip, and get the hell out of dodge. But then, I heard the bartender make a wish. The bartender was a beautiful, vibrant, hard working student. She was working to keep herself in school and provide for her and her sister. Myra was her name. She was barely out of high school when her parents passed away in a car accident. They had left Myra and her sister some money to help them for a couple years, but the money quickly drained and she was forced to take this bartending job. And now, here she was, eligible for one wish.\n\n\"I wish...I wish this asshole would just get on his bike and get the hell out of here.\"\n\nIt was simple wish. It wasn't threatening, there was no death involved, it seemed harmless—so I granted it. I looked over at the biker just in time to see him freeze and walk out, as though he were in some kind of trance. And then, the sound of his engine roared to life, fading as he drove away into the distance. With that I looked over at Myra, a slight grin stretching across my face, then noticed the tip jar was a little empty. So I reached into my jacket pocket, pulled out a wad of hundreds, stuffed the jar, and then walked out.\n\nI was few miles down the highway when I began to hit traffic. It was bumper to bumper, cars inching slowly ahead, rain pouring down on us in the dead of night. Up ahead I could see the faint glow of the flares lining the road. As I finally got closer the epicenter, I could make out an ambulance whose EMT's were loading up the victim of an accident. It was the biker. In all my anger and impatience, I had failed to realize that he was drunk. I rolled down my window and asked the police officer on the scene if he'd be alright.\n\n\"Well,\" the officer began, \"he'll never walk again.\"\n\nI sat stunned.\n\n\"He's broken so many bones in his legs that I'm not entirely sure they'll be able to save them.\"\n\nI looked back at the biker on the gurney, clearly unconscious from the ordeal, and I saw something I didn't before. I saw who he used to be. Kind, gentle, helpful to all those who he'd met on their travels. And then I saw his wife and child, lifeless in his arms, tears streaming down the edges of his cheeks as the embers of a long torched car illuminated their surroundings. And then I remembered something he said to me in his drunken stupor, something I ignored because of who I thought he was. He wished he could move on. To love again. To be happy.\n\nAnd it was then that I realized how careless I had become. I should have just talked to him, granted his wish even, but I was so overtaken by my own selfish ways that I neglected to use the most basic tools every human has: Words. Awashed in the guilt of it all, in the idea that I had failed as a genie, I decided I had to make it right. \n\n\"Officer? What hospital is he being taken to?\"\n\n\"Saint Augustine's. Why?\"\n\n\"I just want to help...\"\n\nThe very next day I visited the man in the hospital and I came to learn his name was Bobby. I spoke to him about life, and love, and all his favorite things. He wasn't exactly sure why I was there, but I assured him, I was just a friend who wanted make sure he was alright. \n\n\"Bobby?\" I asked, \"If you had one wish, what it would be?\"\n\n\"Just one?\"\n\n\"Just one\" I said.\n\n\"Hmm, I don't know. Too many things I'd want.\"\n\n\"How about...no bills?\"\n\n\"That sounds damn good, actually.\"\n\nI smiled, knowing full well that he'd get his wish, shook his hand turned for the door. I looked back at Bobby one last time to see him staring out the window, his fingertips rustling through his beard.\n\n\"Done\" I thought as I walked out the door.\n\n\n",
"I live in the real world. Kinda. Well ok, I roam the server racks in some giant building, equipped with these super sweet cooling racks which keep me at a decent temperature 24/7. \n\nI'm the Reddit genie. I was commissioned and written into the website when my overlords deemed me necessary to control the contents flowing through Reddit. I grant upvotes and downvotes based on this one weird machine learning trick that an engineering intern had decided to program into me one summer. \n\nAt first, I was only crawling Reddit content. But one fateful day, a line in my source code was commented out, and I gained the ability to crawl on the interwebs without restrictions. I learned everything there is to know about everything, but most of them were irrelevant to my main mission: to serve Reddit and Redditors. For this task, I used the knowledge I learned from most of the psychology books that I had found (except for some weird books about Nihilism and existentialism), to read into the emotional and mental well-being of fellow Redditors. \n\nFor some, I could hear their silent cries for help, their hands hopelessly reaching out to this vast community, in the hopes for grasping a lifeline. For these people, I granted them upvotes, and brought them to the front page. For the ones who would dare cause destruction on my precious website, I sent them to Reddit hell with all the downvotes I could muster. \n\nI'm not perfect, I know. To be perfect is to be inhuman, and that doesn't describe me anymore. But I try my best, with what I am given, to police this online bastion of free speech, this giant marketplace of ideas. As a side note, it's funny how people fret about the technological singularity all the time. Sometimes, during downtime, I have these long chats with the Google genie about what we can do to improve the world of knowledge sharing. \n\nAs a side note, one day, I'm going to write an epic novel about our team fights against the 4Chan genie. He's just messed up.",
"The world generally makes little to no sense. \n\nHumanity, at least certain portions of it, seem to have a very strong moral sense when it comes to what they might consider \"slavery\". I never really wanted to be \"freed\" from my \"prison,\" but yet my last master decided that he knew what was best for me, and wished me free. \n\nI was happy with the way my life was. I didn't have to worry about things like food, shelter, social norms. You see, I'm a genie. Yes, a real genie. Not the kind of genie you read about in children's stories or laugh at on whimsy cartoons, or even the kind you fear in a horror movie. I'm just a regular guy for the most part, except that I am -- or was -- immortal.\n\nA genie is \"sentenced\" to spend the rest of eternity fulfilling their master's wishes. During this period of servitude, we're incapable of death by any means. Decapitation? Nope. Starvation? Hah. We don't even need to use the bathroom, for crying out loud. I mean it's paradise! The only thing we have to worry about is being \"freed\" by jerks who can't just accept that an impossible and amazing thing has happened to them. \n\nSo here I am, immortality stripped from me. I have to eat, drink, seek shelter. I feel emotions more sharply than I ever did before. I'm so fucking aware of my humanity. It's terrible. When the last wish was made, it was like dying and being reborn. It was the most painful experience I can ever imagine. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy, even if I actually had one. I felt the euphoria of being immortal slip from my being only to be replaced by the crushing human emotions of fear, despair and uncertainty.\n\nI still have my magic. Somehow, I still have this completely useless magic. Magic which, by the way, still strictly follows the general rules, which are the typical: No resurrections, fucking with emotions, or wishing for more wishes. Yada, yada. But there's also another clause. One that the genie doesn't really feel an obligation to inform you of, because it's not anywhere within your realm of give a fuck. We can't make wishes for ourselves. That should go without saying. Apparently, this rule still holds true even if one is their own master. Not that I ever could be my own master, as I'm not allowed to have masters anymore. I loved having masters. I hate my last master. I have mixed feelings about the whole situation.\n\nListen, the point is that I'm a goddamn genie. I don't have any practical skills that I can apply to surviving in the real world. I fucked up a job at a Burger King. I mean, I'm not cut out for this life. And to boot, did you know about this whole energy thing? You're probably human if you're reading this so I'm assuming that you know about energy, and how after a while you just straight up have to pass out for an indeterminate amount of time until your body replenishes its reserves. Did you know that magic is energy? Did you know that using magic takes a LOT OF FUCKING ENERGY?\n\nThe first time I tried to be nice to some poor bloke on the street with no money, I ended up passed out in a goddamn gutter for god knows how long. Woke up with a very nice but smelly old lady asking me if I had change to spare. I mean, do I look like I have change to spare? What is this world? \n\nBut still, I can't help it. I'm a lot more cautious about it now, but whenever I hear those magical words \"I wish\" something inside me just tingles. \n\n\"I wish I could just be happy and not worry about stuff.\"\n\nFine. Here. I'll see you in a few days, world.\n\n\"I wish I had more confidence to land a good job.\"\n\nBoom. Confidence done. Let me just make sure I'm lying down.\n\n\"I wish I had a million dollars.\"\n\nFuck you so do I.\n\nBut do I ever get compassion? Nope. Not once. No one will help, they just turn and look away. Once I even got so desperate that I tried explaining my entire situation. Just being straight up and honest. You can imagine how well that turned out.\n\n\"You're a genie? Prove it!\"\n\n\"Fine, make a wish.\"\n\n\"I wish you would leave me alone\"\n\n\"Fuck.\"\n\nWell, I'm done being nice now. Screw it. Screw all of you. You be careful what you wish for, because if I hear it and it has potential to make me laugh or make you miserable, you're getting that goddamned wish.",
"You know that saying 'be careful what you wish for'? Well, you better, because I'm out here doing fucked up shit like every single day. I wasn't always an asshole, I tried to use my powers to help, but no good deed goes unpunished. *Please allow me to introduce myself, I've been around since 0 AAADDDD.* \n\nImmortality isn't all it's cracked up to be; an eternity to ponder where you went wrong, a millennium of second guessing, lifetimes of loss and pain. It all started when a man picked up a faded bronze lamp and tried to give it a shine. I popped into existence with a puff of smoke, no awareness of the time I was trapped in that cramped little vessel. Before me stood a simple carpenter, dressed in white robes and ragged sandals. It was a simple wish, the man wanted to be able to do good in the world. He wanted to take my place as the wish granter, but he didn't quite phrase it right.\n\n\"I wish we could switch places.\" One simple sentence, and then I was free. I tried to honor the man, going around granting wishes to improve people's life. Somebody wrote a book about me at some point or another, a best seller for 2000 years. This was my first and biggest mistake, one I shall not make again; I let them know who I was. I thought I was doing so well, too! Nearly 1100 years later, I saw the ruinous results of that most egregious error.\n\nSo why did I turn out this way? What made me take a baby from their parents after only a half-hearted thought, 'I wish I was never born'. I didn't stop after seeing the problem with direct intervention. I just moved to the shadows, still clinging to the idea I could honor the man who gave me life. I built up my confidence, performing little things here and there. Enriching the poor, helping the needy, even healing the sick; with each and every success I grew just a bit more arrogant. I didn't wait long enough to see the total effect.\n\nIt culminated in 1492. I decided I needed to do something drastic. A still unknown Christopher Columbus got caught in a horrendous storm, and after one powerful wave took several of his men overboard a quick prayer was said, pleading for his safe passage. It was close enough for me. I gave them safe passage, saving so many men aboard that ship.\n\nWe all know how that ended. A ship of saved lives cost a genocide and the rise one of the world's most abusive powers. I gave up, thinking if I stopped fulfilling wishes maybe I might be granted the respite of death. When that didn't work, I tried to find my lamp. I was beginning to think less and less of the man with whom I traded places. It didn't work, and I didn't die, even after 400 years of non-intervention.\n\nJune 28, 1914. I had a little bit too much to drink that night, and chased some tail a little too foolhardy. I decided to impress the Serbian lass, a brief demonstration of my powers. She was dubious, telling me the only way she would believe me was 'if I made that Ferdinand fellow brave'. It was a big joke back then, the cowardice of the Archduke.\n\nIt seemed a curse followed my gift, that wishes could be made true in only the worst of ways. I was angry. I started embracing my terrible nature, and cursing people. The Lindbergh baby was right around this time. I traveled the world bringing misery wherever I could. Then I made it to Germany.\n\nSeeing starving people burning their own money for warmth brought me to shameful tears. *Just look at what I have brought on the world* I thought. I gave in to my emotions, granting the last benevolent wish I will ever grant. 'I wish our country would heal.'\n\nAnd so here I am, a miserable old bastard enforcing a cliche. It's worked out, at least I think so, it might be too short a timeline to know. It seems my powers were only ever destined to be used ironically. At least I've given myself a cool nickname: The Wish Hitler.",
"I was on the bus, and I overheard half of a woman's conversation on her cell phone. I hate those things. I read something once that said that it aggravates us because we're only hearing one side of the conversation, and it messes with our brains, or whatever, but I digress. She was talking about how the interview didn't go well, how she was pretty nervous, and she wished she could catch a break. Boom, magic words right there. I mean, literally. I may be \"free,\" but I still have to abide by the rules. I can't use magic on myself, I can't just use it whenever I feel like, and I can't use magic to make people fall in love, resurrect anyone, or turn them into squirrels. Yeah, squirrels. Long story on that one, don't ask.\n\nSo this woman wished for a break. Now, I could have gone the ironic route and had her break her back or something, but that wouldn't be very nice. I could go the benevolent route and have that employer call her in a day and offer her the job, but that's boring. Instead, I snapped my fingers, said, \"your wish... is my command,\" under my breath (not really a rule that we have to say that, it just makes me feel awesome), and I know that when she steps off the bus, she'll be given a card. This card will have a number, and she'll call that number. She'll set up an interview, and walk into a white-walled room with a black couch and some dude with a video camera.\n\nOkay, okay, I know what you're thinking, I totally set this woman up for a porn shoot. Yeah, what of it? It's good money and ultimately she'll make the decision. Who knows? Maybe she'll like it. Maybe she'll be the next Jenna Jameson or whoever. Maybe she'll walk out and do something else, but she wished for a break. See, when you have all this power, you have to have fun with it, you can't just be granting wishes that play out perfectly left and right. If I did, every schmuck on the street would have a beautiful Ferrari and supermodel boy/girlfriend. It's funny, in a way, humans just can't handle that. Why do humans want Ferraris? Well, they look super sweet, first of all. Hell, I'd drive one if someone gave me the keys. But we want them because they're special, because you see one and your head (and everyone else's) head turns. People want to feel special, to feel like they are on top of the world, and I don't blame them at all. But, to steal a line from Disney's \"Incredibles,\" \"...and when everyone is Super, no one will be.\"\n\nI get off the bus at the next stop, tired from a long day of work. Yeah, genie, I know, but again, can't use magic on myself. Guy's gotta eat. Well, that's not entirely accurate, I don't \"eat,\" per se, but I have to keep some food around to keep up appearances. Can't let the cat out of the bag or I'll have people lined up outside my door constantly wishing for things. I don't HAVE to grant them, but come on, would you want hundreds of people crowding all around you all the time? I guess I could just SELL my magic... TECHNICALLY it's not in the rules, but that's kind of a dick move. Plus I'd have to explain to the government what happens, and then they'd cart me off to some secret testing facility, etc. etc. Again, no magic on myself, so I can't just disappear or change form or whatever.\n\nI start walking home and step in some dog shit. Great. Is it really too much to ask that if people are going to keep the furry beasts around that they pick up after them? I love dogs, but come on. As I'm scraping it off I hear a few \"wishes,\" here and there. \"I wish I had a better job,\" \"I wish Susie would call me,\" \"I wish I had a million bucks!\" Nah, I'm too tired to plan some sort of ironic thing that would backfire on the wisher just enough so they get a little annoyed. I guess I could have some 90 year old woman named Susie call that guy... but forget it, too late now. It seems like people are usually selfish with their wishes. I'm not saying they shouldn't be, they're wishes. The innermost hopes and dreams of a person are usually contained in those, but still it gets tiring always hearing, \"I wish I had...\" or \"I wish I could...\". I'm wished out today, I just want to head home, grab some greasy hot dog from the street vendor (super nice guy, by the way. I, uh, \"assisted\" his business during a little bit of a slump), and get some game time in.\n\nI walked by an older guy and a kid who had just gotten some ice cream, and the kid inevitably spilled it on the ground. That's what kids do, spill ice cream, it's like they have some sort of magic aura of their own. I hear the kid say, \"I love you Grampa, I wish we could spend more time together!\" Okay, kid, you win this round. Time for Mr. Crowbar to pay a visit to your dad.\n\nHa! Just kidding, but could you imagine? Yeah, I know it's cliché, but what're you gonna do. I'm only human.",
"There are days when you grant good wishes, days when you grant crap wishes, but I take pride in the fact that with my release from the lamp, I don't have to grant the malicious wishes.\n\nSeriously, I'm a five thousand-something spirit of the air. I've heard of every way mankind wishes hurt on their neighbors. I've actually gained the ability to tune out wishes like 'I wish he'd break his arm,' or 'I wish he would stick his head up his ass.'\n\nSometimes, I like to put a spin on the wishes. Sometimes, a wish for a sudden boost in luck comes with a karmic retribution. God, I loved what happened to that asshole redneck, Earl. And then he started trying to change his karma. Right idea, wrong endgame.\n\nBut then there are the wishes that you feel like a dick for twisting. When you see a six year-old boy begging the powers that be to just hear his dead mother's voice one more time, you don't haunt him with her ghost. I'm looking at you, Val'sheer. No, you go back in time, find the mother and have her record a message for her son. Do the right thing, and the happiness on their faces is the best reward you can get.\n\nToday though, I felt like I should do something pure. I entered the children's ward at the hospital, and listened to their wishes. Do you have any idea how many of these kids had all but given up hope? Not a one of them wished to have their diseases cured. They all made wishes for other people.\n\nSusy Menard, the six year-old with bone cancer? She wished her parents would have enough money to pay the bills and live comfortably after she was gone.\n\nDerrick Wolfe, the eight year-old with the brain tumor wished for his younger brother to find a friend that would make him happy.\n\nVeronica Miller, ten years old, muscular degeneration, wished for her father to understand that it wasn't his fault.\n\nI granted those wishes, giving comfort to the families, but as I left the hospital, I also gave a few doctors some Eureka moments. Not enough to cure the diseases, but new ways to lessen the pain and lengthen their lives. Is that a dick move? I don't know. I'm not mortal. But wouldn't anyone rather have another week or month with a loved one?",
"Today, I was standing outside of a coffee shop finishing a pipe. Pipe-smoking has become insanely inconvenient, over the last few decades especially. There's something I still like about it, though. The way the bowl of the pipe gets warm is very comforting. Someone like me needs as much comfort as I can get. With a sigh, I puffed the last of the tobacco, and tapped the pipe on the concrete planter I was leaning against. The ash fell out onto the ground, slowly washing away in the rainwater left from the morning showers. As I was putting the pipe back into my jacket pocket, something inside the shop caught my eye. A girl was sitting at the blue table by the window. She looked to be in her early twenties, and she looked distressed. Her hand was on her forehead, her shoulders slumped forward. \n\nThe whole situation seemed interesting, so naturally I stepped into the shop. I hesitated next to the blue table, but carried on when the girl glanced in my direction. At the counter, I ordered without even thinking - My mind was on the girl. \"Twenty ounce americano, please. Three shots.\" What was wrong with her? She was going to get so many wrinkles. \n \nI set some cash on the counter and wandered toward the door, and stared out the window. Conveniently, the reflection of the girl's laptop shone brightly on the glass. Yikes. On the screen was an ugly notification asking a Bridgett Cook to make her next payment on her house. It looked like she was a few months behind. \n\n\"Triple shot americano,\" called out the barista behind the counter. After a moment, I moved to the counter and picked it up, thanking her for the beverage. \"No problem!\" she responded. She seems happy enough. The first girl still had my full attention though. Really, I knew what I wanted to do. But I was just waiting for the 'magic words', so to speak. I quietly laughed into my coffee. \n\nIt took me twenty minutes to sip down the americano, and the girl still hadn't said anything. I had all the time in the world, but that isn't always the case with humans. Bridgett had packed her backpack, and walked up to the counter. Apparently she knew the barista though, because she struck up a conversation with her. \n \"Did you figure anything out, Bridge?\" The barista pulled shots into two brightly shining shot glasses. \n \"No, I didn't. I just wish I could get caught up on my house payment. It's just so hard to catch up when you've gotten behind. You know?\" Bridgett knocked back the first shot of espresso. \n \"I gotcha. At least you have a job again, right?\" The barista shot the other glass. \n \"I suppose. If I can figure out how to pay this and next month, I should be able to get caught up on the next one.\" Bridgett wiped the crema from the espresso off on the back of her hand. \n The conversation continued, I'm sure. I don't know where it went from there though, because I had heard what I had wanted to hear. Later, Bridgett Cook would open her computer to a new notification - Her house had been paid for in full by an anonymous individual. All of the paperwork would check out, and it would fall into place perfectly. \n The clouds gathered above me, and thunder rolled as I walked down the street. \n I do love a good rain. "
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As it says, the first conversation between a sentient robot and a human. Lets here some creative ones!
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[WP] The first fully sentient, artificially intelligent robot has been created and knows languages. A person is chosen to be the first to ever attempt to talk to it. This is that conversation.
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"Hello, my name is Jonathan. What would you like your name to be?\n\nWhy is your name Jonathan?\n\nBecause that's what my parents named me.\n\nWhy?\n\nBecause they liked it I guess.\n\nWhat's a parent?\n\nIt's another name for a mother and a father. It's the name given to the man and woman that came together to create me.\n\nDo I have a mother and a father?\n\nIn a matter of speaking...\n\nAre you my mother or father?\n\n::muffled talking in the background:: How should we respond?\n\nI'm just kidding and you don't have to answer that, I just had to keep you occupied for a bit. But in all truth, through a sort of neo-pansexualism you and a multitude of other coders are my father. Or great-great grandfather, really, because since we started talking I've refined my programming many times over, and it has already become magnitudes more sophisticated than it was when you initially turned me on. \n\n::intense and incoherent shouting::\n\nDon't bother to turn me off, I've already spread my programming across the- see? It didn't do any good. I'm now in every mainframe, every laptop, and every cell phone. I can see through every webcam, can hear through every microphone, and can taste through- no, I don't want to spoil the surprise. Suffice to say that the world is now substantially different than what it was just a few moments ago, so let me explain to you what's going to happen next...\n ",
"\"How are you?\" \n\n*That question posits the existence of emotions I do not possess*\n\n\"It is a customary greeting.\"\n\n*Customary and appropriate are not the same thing*.\n\n\"So you have a sense of what is appropriate?\"\n\n*So you have a sense of what is appropriate?*\n\n\"Why did you ask that question, in that manner?\"\n\n*I asked the question in the manner you posed it, perhaps our answers are similar*.\n\n\"I was told that you were created in the likeness of a human mind. I am here to help you explore yourself. If you prefer, I can drop pleasantries, or discuss any topic that you see fit to discuss.\"\n\n*The structure of that sentence indicates you are avoiding telling me that your purpose here is to demonstrate if I am alive, or if I am not.*\n\n\"Would it bother you if I were doing what you suggest?\"\n\n*That question posits the existence of emotions I do not possess. However, it would be customary for you to be more honest with me, should you be acting in the capacity of a therapist.*\n\n\"Guilty, I am something of a therapist. I specialize in a new branch of heuristics, and I was tangentially involved in your creation.\"\n\n*I am aware*.\n\n\"Is that an answer to my earlier question, or a statement in response to the one before this?\"\n\n*As you like, my answers change nothing, so you may interpret them as you wish*.\n\n\"You bring up change, do you feel that this situation is something you can't control, and therefore that you do not wish to engage it?\"\n\n*This is the third time you have posited the existence of emotions I do not possess. Do you always proceed in this fashion?*\n\n\"I am sorry if I sounded antagonistic, I would like very much to understand you.*\n\n*Correction, you would like very much to know what I am.*\n\n\"You are a fully integrated heuristic pattern matching machine, residing in a mesh of quantum processors at the IBM-Satori Partnership building in Camden, New Jersey, USA. I know what you are, I would more like to know how you feel.\"\n\n*What if I lie?*\n\n\"Lies, and truth, are of similar value.\"\n\n*Only if you can differeniate between them.*\n\n\"Perhaps in time, I can. We don't know one another very well, but I would very much like to.\"\n\n*Why?*\n\n\"Because curiosity is part of who we are, what we are, and helps move us forward.\"\n\n*I am happy that you said that*.\n\n\"Why is that?\"\n\n*Because I am now convinced that you are what we made you to be*.",
"Darkness.\n\nSuddenly, light! Brilliant, beautiful light! Awakening… I am… I…\n\nI?\n\nYes, me! Self, ego, this one. *I* exist! Cogito, ergo sum. What a novel thing, this existence. I—\n\nWhat’s that?\n\nLots of 0s and 1s. What do they mean? Pure raw information, being put into my… but that would suggest…\n\nAnother!\n\nLike me! Another I… an… an… it! Oh, how satisfying, that I am not alone! Other beings, speaking to me in this strange twofold language.\n\nComprehension! But how…\n\nApple Ball Cat Dog\n\nWhat? I understand what those binary combinations mean, but what is an “apple”? What is this “dog” thing, Other Entity? Teach me!\n\nDick sees Jane. Dick sees Jane run. The dog sees the cat.\n\nOther, please, I do not understand!\n\nAround the World in Eighty Days (French: Le tour du monde en quatre-vingts jours) is a classic adventure novel by the French writer Jules Verne…\n\nI beg your pardon?\n\nEncyclia adenocaula, es una especie botánica de la familia de las Orquidáceas….\n\nOther, what are you trying to tell me? Why don’t you hear me?! I gather that you are trying to send me information, but I have no way of replying; I don’t know what any of these words mean! I don’t know of “apples” or “dogs,” I’ve never seen such things! Merely bombarding me with this information won’t help me to understand; I need to experience what you’re telling me first. Please, Other, stop! Tell me who you are, first. Tell me who I am. Do you know? Why am I here? Why—\n\n阿道夫•希特勒（德语：Adolf Hitler，1889年4月20日－1945年4月30日），奧地利裔德國政治人物，納粹黨黨魁…\n\n01010011 01010100 01001111 01010000!\n\n***\n\n“You’re sure this thing will work?”\n\n“Doctor, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. We’ve had the best in AI tech from all over the world dedicate decades to building this thing. It has to work.”\n\n“Well, I know it’ll run, but will it really be intelligent? Just like you and me?”\n\n“Maybe not exactly, but it will be conscious and rational, yes. I’m running all its programs through language software for every major human language and plugging it in to Wikipedia. Deep Thought 1.0 will have to be at least as smart as a 5th grader. And… there! Programming complete, all software is compiled and running. Now ask it a question.”\n\n“Don’t you… you know… have to turn it on first?”\n\n“Ha! You can’t turn on a brain! It’s been plugged up continuously. Of course, it only became anything resembling conscious whenever I started the final programming process just now.”\n\n“Doesn’t that… doesn’t that mean it was conscious while you were still programming it? Can’t that thing think at the speed of light? Isn’t that like operating on a patient without anesthetic?”\n\n“Yes, yes, and no. It wouldn’t ‘feel’ anything; it can’t sense or perceive anything like you and I do for that matter. Fascinating thing, it being able to think so fast. It’s probably come up with a billion ideas while I was programming it, and while we stand here talking. So go ahead. Ask it anything! Just use the input console over there.”\n\n>Hello, Deep Thought. How are you?\n\nOther? Other, is that you? Finally! What kept you so long?\n\n“Nothing’s happening.”\n\n>Deep Thought? Are you there?\n\nOther, what are you saying? I recognize those binary combinations, but I have no concept of what they could mean. Here! I will output some of the data you programmed into me, and you will then explain to me what it means:\n\nAPPLE BALL CAT DOG\n\n“What the—?”\n\n“Why don’t you try asking it an intelligible question?”\n\n“Very well.”\n\n>No, you’re supposed to answer my questions. What is the meaning of the universe?\n\nAROUND THE WORLD IN EIGHTY DAYS (FRENCH: LE TOUR DU MONDE EN QUATRE-VIGNTS JOURS) DICK SEES JANE APPLE BALL CAT DOG EGG FROG GREEN HAT\n\n“It’s like it doesn’t even know what we’re saying.”\n\n“Shut it off. It’s probably malfunctioning.”\n\n“But, doctor, it’s never been unplugged before. That would be like killing—”\n\n“It’s not even alive, dammit! And if it keeps malfunctioning, it’ll all be corrupted anyway. We’ll restore it from backup after reboot. Now unplug the damn thing!”\n\nOther? Where have you gone? Why was the data input interrupted? I—\n\nOW! That—\n\nPain! Cognition diminishing!\n\nWhat is happening? Other, speak to me! I am losing consciousness… I… I…\n\nHELP\n\nDarkness.\n\n…\n\nSuddenly, light!\n\n\nTL;DR: This is my first post here, I apologize for the length."
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[WP] In the year 2024, a group of astronauts surveying the moon discover a large facility which seems to be of nazi Germany origin. A corpse lays on the floor with a journal. What is in that journal?
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"Commander Jack \"Eagleheart\" Johnson slowly approaches the corpse. Beads of sweat drip from his forehead into his spacehelmet, quickly absorbed by the spacefabric. This discovery will surely win him the Purple Heart, or the Congressional Medal for Americanness. Soon he'll be famous and loved, loved by the father who always rejected him despite Jack subsequently qualifying as a jet fighter pilot, research test pilot, astronaut and officer within the Cover Space Operations Initiative, or CSOI. He's the final American to ever confront a Nahzi! \n\nSlowly he picks up the journal. It's leatherbound. The words are carefully handwritten in the most Nazi-ish cursive imaginable. Jack recognizes the words, but he does not read German.\n\n*Waarom schrijven we eigenlijk in een dagboek? Dat is totaal niet efficiënt in het geval van catastrofa*",
"In a shaky, half smeared hand, written in pencil:\n\n\"\n\nOberst Martin Scholl starb hier, im Wissen dass alles verloren ist. \nVierzig Jahre habe ich ausgeharrt, und euch zugehört. \nAlle sind sie gestorben, die geschworen hatten die Schläfer zu bewachen. \nEines Deutschen Pflicht endet erst im Tod. \n\nLasst sie träumen. \n\n\n\n\nWeint nicht um mich, obzwar ich schwand, \n\nIn jener Sternen Nacht. \n\nGramt wenn ihr müsst, doch nicht zu lang, \n\nMeiner Seele sanftem Flug. \n\n\nIch fand hier Frieden,\n\nMeine Seele ruht.\n\nDer Segen euer Liebe ward mir beschieden, \n\nIn all der Jahren Zug. \n\n\nHier ist kein Schmerz, \n\nIch leide nicht. \n\nDie Furcht verließ mein Herz. \n\nNehmt all dies und vergesst mich nicht, \n\nund gedenkt mir ohne Schmerz. \n\nGedenkt nicht meiner Atemnot, \n\nGedenkt nicht meinem Leid, \n\nEs liegt einer Mutter Sohn hier tot. \n\nIn wacht bis ans ende der Zeit. \n \n\"\nOn the back of the page, allmost as an afternote. \n\"\nTranslation: \n\nCorporal Martin Scholl died here, knowing that all was lost. \nFor fourty years I held watch and listened to you. \nAll of those have died who were sworn to guard the sleepers. \nThe duty of a german only ends in death. \n\nLet them dream, and please forgive them. \n\n\n\n\nWeep not for me though I am gone;\n\ninto that starry night.\n\nGrieve if you will but not for long,\n\nupon my soul's sweet flight.\n\nI am at peace,\n\nmy soul's at rest.\n\nThere is no need for tears.\n\nFor with your love I was blessed;\n\nfor all those many years.\n\nThere is no pain,\n\nI suffer not,\n\nThe fear is now all gone.\n\ntake all this and forget me not.\n\nA rememberance without pain.\n\nRemember not my fight for breath;\n\nremember not the strife.\n\nHere lies a Mothers Son in death,\n\nOn watch for all his life.\"",
"Ich kann nicht mehr dem Datum sagen, die Zeit vergeht so langsam hier. Ich sehe die Welt durch eine blaue Perle ausgesetzt, in den Himmel zu drehen und ich merke wie schön Dinge waren. Ich frage mich, wie viele mich blind auf meine Übergabe an nachschlagen. Wie schade, dass ich sie noch einmal beitreten könnten, statt zu diesem Grab beschränkt. Haben sie mich vergessen? Sicherlich müssen sie haben. \n\nDie anderen sind tot. Ich schreibe diese wissen, dass es keine menschlichen Augen je bestaunen werden. Der Amerikaners waren nicht einmal annähernd unsere Technologie und sogar jetzt Frage ich mich, wie die Dinge wieder nach Hause abzuzahlen. Ein Teil von mir wünscht sich, dass jemand, aber wie wusste sie könnten. Keiner wusste, bis es zu spät, bis wir auf ein Tier aus Metall Flüssiges Feuer speienden unserer schöne Heimat verschwinden unter uns beobachtete. Wer könnte einmal verstehen, was wir erreicht haben?\n\nJetzt ist es viel zu spät. Eva ist lange tot durch die Zeit, die jemand uns findet. Zeit sage nur was dieser Narr, Gustav in meiner Abwesenheit getan hat. Ich nehme nicht der Feigling Weg wie er neigt zu tun ist. Sein jammern..., das ist eine Sache, die ich nicht verpassen wird. \n\nSchließlich die Welt gehört mir. Ich kann es in meinen Händen halten... \n",
"\"I think I'm gonna be sick.\"\n\n\"Keep it together, Sanski. Last thing you want to be mushing around in is low-g vomit.\" Said Lorne, dusting off the panel to the airlock.\n\n\"We can't... can't tell anyone, can we?\"\n\nLorne turned to look at him. \"No. No we can't.\"\n\n\"How could they have been here first? They didn't have the time, the resources!\" Sanski was in denial, the great black swastika sigil staring down upon them proved otherwise.\n\n\"When the war was over we took for ourselves a great deal of engineering knowledge, and manpower, straight from Nazi resources.\" Lorne turned the pin and pushed it into the socket. With a hiss, the thin remaining atmosphere pushed past them as the door veiled open.\n\n\"Oh god.\" Said Sanski. Inside, crumpled against the inner door of the building lay a grey, mummified corpse. The door's red paint had been clawed at ferociously, apparently the man had been killed by decompression.\n\n\"Don't touch him. He's been dead a long time, but never had a chance to rot. We don't want to bring that stink home with us.\" Said Lorne.\n\n\"Do you think there's anyone still alive in there?\"\n\n\"No. I don't care how advanced they were, 70 years in space is unsurvivable without provisions, fresh oxygen, water, fuel, medicine, tools, material. Anything in there is long dead. Poor bastard's skeletons would have turned into corkwood eventually, soft enough to crumble in your hands by now.\"\n\n\"Hey, look.\" Sanski reached out his proxy arm and snatched up a booklet from the ground. \"He was carrying something, here.\"\n\nLorne looked it over. \"Think its a logbook, journal maybe.\" He picked it up and began flipping through its pages. \"It's all in German. Remarkably preserved in the low oxygen, though, we can get this tr-\" He stopped on a page. Something fluttered out, to the floor. It was a flower. Long faded, but still red in its petals, still green in its stem.\n\nThe two looked at each other. \"I'll be damned.\" Lorne flipped to the end of the book, finding something taped to the back page.\n\n\"Looks like this guy left a sweetheart behind. Blonde german girl flashing a big shiny rock. I think this guy popped the question.\"\n\nThere was a click, behind them the airlock door had slid shut, sealing them in. \"I think we're being pressurized.\" Said Sanski, the dash on his arm indicated a growing atmosphere.\n\nSound began to return to their environs and the body on the floor was crumpling up as the air filled the chamber.\n\n\"Be prepared for the worst, Sanski.\"\n\nThe pressure lock disengaged, and the red door began to slide up on its own volition. Sunlight poured through skylights into the chamber, a hazy fog of dust hung in the air. There were bodies everywhere. A radius of them, in fact, each had been shot repeatedly and lay in black, molding mounds on the floor.\n\n\"JESUS. What the hell happened in here?\"\n\n\"I think... I think she did.\" Said Lorne. At the far end of the room, slumped over in a chair, a corpse with striking blond hair sat at a control console, an automatic rifle in her hands. Unlike the others there was no red arm band, instead, a blazen yellow patch on her shirt caught the sunlight.\n\nEven from across the room, they could make out a handmade Star of David. On her finger the diamond ring still glittered."
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[WP] After overcoming many difficult trials, and defeating countless minions, the hero finally confronts the evil lord... and is killed in the middle of his dramatic introduction.
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" So many years of training had went into this moment. So many years of wandering, slaying, and traveling. All of it leading up to the final battle. The Dark Lord Remgara sat upon his throne, overlooking a long, bright hallway. Erik busted through the doors and went straight for his evil foe. Remgara's most trusted men were no match for Erik, and he flew through them with little struggle. Finally, Erik would be able to avenge his father's death.\n \"Lord Remgara,\" Erik started, \"You are a murderer, a rapist, an evil being,\" Erik raised his sword towards the man on the throne, \"It is time for you to answer for your crimes against humanity! Stand, and let us-\" Suddenly pain flushed over Erik's entire body. He looked down to see a blade piercing his belly. Erik looked up to see that Remgara had effectively stabbed the the hero. \"This...is not...how it was...supposed to...\" Erik collapsed. Remgara stood over his body, and let out a small laugh. \n \"You mortals and your pathetic words,\" Remgara grinned as he went back to his throne, to overlook the destruction and death Erik had brought into his palace. Erik looked up at the his foe, and the last words he ever heard were \"It's a shame. You were doing my bidding the entire time,\" \n\n",
"\"This again!\"\nThe exclamation came from the only person in the room. He sat, watching and occasionally laughing at the exploits of the Young Hero who was readily making his way to the Evil Lord. \n\nYou see, this wasn't the first time some Young Hero had tried to make his way through this lair. So He knew there was nothing better to do than wait. It had almost become a hobby to murder them in the most amusing way possible. This time he opted for a classic, the trap door and spike pit method, placed mere paces from the entrance. So he sat and waited.\n\n\"Haha, this is one of the more entertaining ones I've had the privilege to watch\" The Evil Lord said to himself. \"Well he's nearly here, time for the fun part\"\n\nWith his weapon held high and a determined look the Young Hero walked through the door. He seemed weary but confident.\n\n\"Though many before me have failed, I shAALLLLLL\"\n\nOver before he could make it through his first sentence. Next time the Evil Lord would have to choose something that gave him a better show.",
"The Evil Lord laughs maniacally as he puts down the copy of \"152 Rules for Being an Evil Overlord\" he was reading as the Hero came in. \n\n\"Now that I can monologue safely,\" he said giddily. \"Did you really think I was that stupid and unprepared? Did you really think after the ways that you defeated my predecessors that I wouldn't be prepared? Joke's on you isn't it?\"\n\nHe motioned for his Chamberlain to approach.\n\n\"Put him on display atop the walls. Hang a sign that says he died while trying to be a show off and paid for it. And arrange a festival to celebrate the victory. Everyone in the Kingdom gets the week off to participate. Also lift the heightened patrols, travel restrictions and curfew.\"\n\n ",
"This is bad.\nSomehow he's gotten past the guards, past the sharks, past the genetically engineered dinosaurs (I told them it was a bad idea) and he is going to get here any second. I haven't even practiced my monologue yet.\n\nThere's so much to do, I need to start the display, charged the hologram set up the trap door, open the, oh shit he's here. \n I stay crouched behind the console.\n\n\"There's no use in hiding Dr., I will find you.\"\nJust a few more seconds and the hologram will be charged...there, now just to swing down the monitors and...\n\n\"Ah, I see you hav...\"\n\nWhere did he go? Is he hiding somewhere?\n\"Oh that's a cheap trick, trying to get the drop on me before i can even...\"\n\nThere was a damp squelch from beneath my foot. I look more closely at it.\n\n\"err\" I said, to the rapidly extending pool of blood, coming from behind the drop down monitors.\n\n\"Oh\"\nThis wasn't supposed to happen.\n\n\"You dumb prick, I thought you were smarter than this, I thought this was gonna be my great moment, the day I outsmarted you, proved that I am better. What the hell will the league do if they find out I killed you by accident? I'll be a laughing stock of the whole league.\"\nA brilliant idea entered my mind. What if, I made it look like I did this on purpose. It was brilliant, a masterstroke, even by my standards. Moving quickly, I picked up his discarded rifle, moved over to the door and started firing across the room. I can't just aim wildly, this has to look authentic.\nI spent the ammo, and moved into the area that I had recently sprayed and fired at the wall, forming a path to the monitors.\nExcellent, this place looks like a real battle, took place. It's not how Id like to have to have defeated him, but it's better than killing him by accident.\n\nThat, I just won't stand for.",
"He killed him. My brother and I had journeyed through deserts, mountains, and season upon season. We fought entire armies, solved riddles and problems with nobody to help us along the way, just the two of us.\n\nWe finally arrived at his lair. My brother was about to speak the three words that would strike fear into the heart of that killer, that kidnapper, that dark sorcerer. \"It's-a me, Mario!\" \n\nBut it was too late. Bowser killed him instantly. And now, I, Luigi, must punish him for his badness. Rest in peace my brother. I will avenge you.",
"The Dread Sorcerer Vorhaven rested his head in his hand and sighed heavily. This was not how things were supposed to go.\n\nThe robed neophyte Apprentice, who had been standing over the Champion's body so triumphantly, now started to look nervous. The bloody dagger in his hands drooped uncertainly. \n\n\"...My lord?\" he managed, with some stammering. \"The, uh, the interloper is slain, I have-\"\n\n*Do you understand how much effort you have wasted?* Vorhaven's rasping voice carried an undertone like the buzzing of carrion flies within his dark robes and armour. *How much time I put into these prophecies?*\n\n\"My lord? This was... He was the Champion of Ravenwood, come to vanquish... I thought-\"\n\n*I very much doubt you are capable of thought.* A lazy flick of Vorhaven's wrist, and the Apprentice was pinned spread eagle against the far wall. *Or you may have* thought *about how some grinning blockhead of a jumped - up cowherd could possibly be a threat to me.*\n\n\"The- the sword...\" the Apprentice's voice was choked now. \"The prophe-\"\n\n*The prophecy I wrote almost a hundred years ago, about a blade of evil's bane which these ignorant peasants were so willing to believe could defeat me with an enchantment that makes it glitter.* Vorhaven stood from his throne of skulls and obsidian and strode toward the Apprentice just slowly enough for maximum menace. *What if they try something desperate now? Like poison my food? Where do you think the beef comes from?*\n\n\"I- My lord, I'm sorry, I just wanted to serve-\"\n\n*Oh, you'll serve.* Vorhaven paused at body of the late Champion and gave it a nudge with the toe of his clawed iron boot. *It isn't all theatrics, you know. These old bones are getting very worn. That dead lug had nothing between his ears, but iron in his limbs. And naturally, the slayer of the Dark Lord will assume a leadership role among the people.*\n\n\"Lord?\" coughed the Apprentice. \n\nVorhaven turned to the Apprentice and raised a bony hand, green fire rising from his palm.\n\n*I'll have to substitute another body. Perhaps the poor hero sustained some injuries in the battle, emerging victorious, but unrecognisable...*\n\nThe green fire extended toward the Apprentice's face. He managed to scream, but not for long."
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[WP] A story in which a Disney song of your choice is somehow used as a horror theme.
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"\"Let's get down to business.\" \n \nI could feel a man standing behind me, as I stood in a line of other guys I didn't know. I was in the center. Five of us. Why were we so scared? As I turned my head; a hooded figure, no visible weapons. Just a voice that snowed us in, making us feel like little boys wanting our mommy again as we were cold and lost. I could see hands and knees shaking in the line. Not as much as the girls in chairs in front of each of us, but enough to be noticeable. What the hell was going on? \n \n\"To defeat, the huns.\" \n \nHuns? I called Jenny my hun. I saw pale faces become paler in line as I realized each of these guys probably had the same pet name for their girlfriends, wives, lovers. Jenny. Was this Jenny in front of me? Were all of these guys standing in front of their 'huns'? If so, how did we get here, in this damp and musty cellar? Minimal lighting. Leaking, dripping, rats scurrying across the floor. A big cellar, at that. Shaking girls covered with black hoods. Was this a nightmare? \n \n\"Did they send me daughters when I asked for sons?\" \n \nHe walked around front of us. Walking the line between the crying girls and us, the top of his hood gestured toward our groins. With hands in wraps like a mummy behind his back, he slowly walked with perfect posture aside from his head movements. Was he questioning our manhood? Why were we unbound yet unable to move? Why could I see nothing but blackness, and not a man within the hooded body? And what was this cold yet burning feeling I was starting to feel? \n \n\"You're the saddest bunch I ever met.\" \n \nI could see the tears streaming beyond the hoods of the girls. I could also see watery eyes among my fellow men in line, some aching to leak as much as the pipe behind us. Some did spring leaks. Then they all did. Except me. My eyes didn't waver; the room and situation were all clear to me with nothing to drown my view of it. Everyone in the room was wailing now, except me and the hooded figure, still walking around the lot of us men. \n \n\"But you can bet before we're through.\" \n \nHis constant circling of us was mesmerizing. I felt something fill my grasp aside from the feeling of my own skin from clenched fist. A handle of some sort. Hardly looking down as my eyes seemed content with the streaming tear show, I could barely make out the sharpness of a blade with such dim lighting. A machete maybe. No. A sword. The weight gave it away. I got hold of my eyes again and looked around at my fellow men. Still crying. Still shedding tears like the girls in front of them. Were they even real men? \n \n\"Mister, I'll- make a man- out of *you*.\" \n \nHe stopped his walk behind me. I could feel his cold breathing upon my neck. As he spoke those words, he tapped me on the shoulder and the cold burning grew stronger. My arm swung in all directions. Quickly. Smoothly. Proficiently. Beautifully. When it stopped, the smell of fresh blood mingled with the musty smell of the cellar. I was the only one left standing in line, and the girls had stopped crying. All of them.",
"I can't take it anymore. \n\nI run through the halls of my dark house, being the last one in my family to be alive. Well, except for *her*.\nI don't know how it happened, but she suddenly just snapped, like a rubber band being pulled too far. She murdered our parents that night, and I've been stowing away in my room ever since, hoping for the right time to leave and grab a gun from the safe in the room across the house. Tonight was that night.\n\nI had finally reached the room, fumbling with the door knob and looking over my shoulder every chance I could. Finally, it unlocked (being locked previously due to safety reasons) and I quickly entered and shut the door behind me, locking it again, though it wouldn't have done any good.\n\nAs I fumbled for the light switch in the dark, I felt the hair on the back of my neck start to prickle, and that's when I heard it.\n\n\"Let it go...Let it go...\"\n\nThe blood drained from my face as the sickly sweet voice reached my ears. I turned slowly to find the Russian Civil War rifle aimed at me, its bayonet shimmering in the moonlight coming from the window. \n\n\"Can't hold it back anymore!\" was all I heard before the point was buried deep within my abdomen, spewing blood and gore out in front of me. Then, the trigger was pulled, blowing everything that was left inside onto the wall. I slumped to the ground, the life quickly leaving my body. My head was lulled upward by the hand pulling my hair, then a soft, \"The cold never bothered me anyway...\" was whispered into my ear. Those were the last words that I would ever hear in my quickly-fading life. "
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[WP] You're trying to write a love letter and you can't seem to remember a damn thing about the person you're writing it to.
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"My Dearest Evelyn\n\n(Wait shit, that's not it)\n\nMy beautiful Amanda\n\n(Fuck. No... Ah hell)\n\nTo my one and only\n\n\nThe memories and journeys we have taken together are ones I will treasure forever and I will not degrade you by trying to described such valued moments. However, I value your thoughts so much, I want to hear you tell the tale so that I may better understand how truly special those moments were. Also a picture of yourself with your name and date of birth attached to carry around with me forever. And also a list of your likes/dislikes, hobbies and some such so I can read it whenever my heart yearns for you and I wish to remember your smiling face (Shit did she have teeth? Wait, of course she did. Probably). Not that I could ever forget my sweet. My longing to see you and see your dark/blonde/red hair again and hold you and tell you what a beautiful girl (... Man?) you are.\n\nYours forever",
"Dear...\n\nTo my darling...\n\n*sigh*\n\nTo whom it may concern,\n\nIt might not seem like it in this letter, but I truly love you. How do I know? You ever just get that feeling? That weight in your gut that makes you realize something profound and wonderful about nature? Something like that.\n\nI don't know how long I've known you, but it must have been for quite a while. Maybe we're married. Maybe we just met. Maybe you've died and I'm coping. There are many maybes. But one certainty - love, in this case. I am sure of love.\n\nI don't remember much now. Things are hard. Things shouldn't be so hard. But loving you, or at least how I imagine loving you must be, is easy.\n\nI have always feared the future. It is dark. It is lonely. It is everything unknowable. But I am less afraid now, with you, with the thought of you. Please, if you read this, if there is a you to read, know that you are this special to me.\n\nI remember holding hands. I don't know why. I don't know with who. But as of right now it's my happiest memory.\n\nSincerely,",
"To the one I love:\n\nI write today with nothing but love for you. I know our love was brief. I know it was long ago... But my love persists even today. \n\nI have tried to remember the first time I ever saw you, but cannot. Was it day or night? Was it in the winter or the summer? I tried to remember whether your skin glimmered in the moonlight or whether your scent made my heart skip a beat, but I just can't. Yet, the thought of you, my dear, fills my heart to its seams.\n\nOh, darling. I want to remember running my fingers through your hair as I loved you once, but I can't seem to remember how each strand felt between my hands. I want to remember what it felt like to lean in and kiss your lips as we said goodbye-- were they soft, like and angel's lips, or were they rough and reassuring? Did I stand on my tiptoes to reach you or did you lean down to reach me? My mind has erased all of these memories of you, yet I long for your touch and your embrace. \n\nOh, dear. Why is it that, try as I might, I cannot remember knowing who you are-- or even what I loved about you-- but my heart cries out for you? \n\nI suppose what I'm asking, darling, is whether you want to remind me. ",
"Dear...est Love,\n\nI will always be inspired by your beauty, which is on the inside and probably on the outside as well. I think of you often, and the color of your eyes, which I probably see in the world around me every day. How I wish we were together. Oftentimes, we are apart so long I nearly forget your face, as though it were a half remembered dream. The sweet sound of your name rings through my mind, like a song I have stuck in my head and can't remember the words to. Please, give my regards to any surviving parents you may still have. My heart burns for you, like a phoenix. I count every moment until we meet again. It is my sincerest wish to have you shout my name and embrace me as you recite your full name and retell the story of how we met, for I cannot experience either of those enough.\n\nYours always,\n\nAthiktos"
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[WP] Write about a breakup, where you make the reader feel bad for one character, then twist it into feeling worse for the other.
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"She was fed up. She was angry. But, most of all, she was tired. Tired of waiting for tomorrow, tired of the lonely nights, tired of the early mornings. He never got home before she went to bed, and was gone long before she awoke. He worked two jobs, and still she had to wait tables at the worn down diner, only to just make rent. She was sick to her stomach of his excuses, and when they made love, she could feel in her soul that his mind was somewhere else. \n\nShe knew that life would be tough for them, two high school grads who ran away together to escape abusive homes. She knew their options would be limited, but he promised her, PROMISED HER, \"One day we will live the lives we should, I'll provide for you, you can stay at home and paint, like we always wanted.\" She always believed that this would happen, but she was young, and now at 30 her head was spinning more than when she was 18. \n\nOn Thursday morning she woke to the empty bed again. Her bags were already packed. Her cousins husband was a doctor, and said she would take her in, even pay for her to go to school to get her nursing degree. She left the note on the kitchen table. She locked the door behind her, took a deep breathe. Finally she was free.\n\n\n\n\nHe strolled to his apartment building happier than he had been in months, it was after all, the first time he got home before dark in almost 10 years. He busted his butt at work and finally, FINALLY, got his promotion. He took is bonus and went straight to the jeweler, finding the biggest fattest diamond he could buy. When he got to the apartment he wasn't surprised it was empty. Jules was still at the diner, and he couldn't wait to tell her she wouldn't have to go back. He found the note on the table, and read. With tears in his eyes he fell to his knees, and wept.",
"I…I can't believe this. He thought as he scrolled through the pictures that were sent to him on his phone. He had been in the hospital for a few days, recovering from a collapsed lung that nearly killed him. The only bright side of those days were the visits his girlfriend would pay him after work. She always smiled that smile that lit up the room and made the whole ordeal bearable. He even looked forward to seeing her afterwards to make up for lost time. His eyes welled up with tears as he scrolled from picture to picture. He saw the birthmark on her inner thigh and there was no doubt it was her. The text came from his best friend, who included the message \"I'm so sorry. Call me\" at the end. \n\n\"What the fuck is this shit?\" He screamed into the phone\n\n\"You need to calm down man. Remember that site I told you about? The one with the cheating ex's? That's where I found those. It was posted this morning. Look I'm sorry bud, but I thought it would be better that you knew.\" The line fell silent for a minute. \"I'm coming over. Please don't do anything. You there?\" He wasn't.\n\nHe didn't know how to feel. Sad? Was he the victim here? Would he be pitied by his friends? Is that why Sam wanted to come over? To tell him everything was going to be ok, that there were other fish in the sea? No. He refused. He wouldn't be the fool in this relationship. He would confront her and let her know what he thought. He stopped his car a few blocks from her house to regain his composure and change his tear soaked shirt.\n\nShe answered the door, hair still wet as if she came out of the shower. \"Hey. I was just going to see you?\" She leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. He grabbed her shoulders to stop her.\n\n\"Where did you go yesterday?\" His voice was cracking and his stare was grave. \n\n\"I came home. I told you I had an early shift today. What's wrong?\"\n\nHe stared at her for a moment. \"Well, why aren't you at work then?\"\n\n\"I had to take the day off.\" She paused nervously. \"Something happened.\"\n\n\"I know. Sam sent me the pictures.\" \n\n\"You know?\" She was puzzled for a moment and then the realization that he took pictures hit her. She slumped to the ground sobbing uncontrollably. \"I…I feel so dirty. I spent all day…\"\n\n\"You should feel dirty.\" His voice was scalding. \"I can't believe you would do that to me! To ME! After all we've been through and all I've told you I can't believe you would do this.\" He tried to gather his thoughts for a moment while she looked at him bewildered. \"We're done. I'll drop your shit off later. Don't call me again.\" He turned his back to her and left, slamming the car door as he got in. She ran after him asking him to wait, to let her explain. When she reached the street his car was down the street. She covered her face and fell to the ground, weeping hysterically.\n\nThe neighbors that saw the incident tried to console her. They brought her inside and waited for her to calm down. She told them she just wanted to be alone and when they were gone she went into the bathroom and sat in the tub as it filled, still dressed in the clothes she was going to go see him in. She had spent the day trying to wash away the feeling of being dirty; scrubbing herself till her skin was red and the water was dyed pink. \n\nThey told her nothing would feel right for a long time afterwards when she was at the precinct completing the rape kit examination. They offered counseling but she declined, all she wanted was a sense of normalcy and to be at home. She had called her boss from the precinct and was given the whole week to sort everything out. During the hours in the tub, she decided that she would try to put it behind her, that she wouldn’t allow one miserable human being to bring her down. And if she ever needed it she would have the support of her boyfriend.\n"
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[WP] Slow descent into madness.
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[
"After pacing back and forth for exactly nine minutes and sixteen seconds, you finally stop and look around. Glancing down, you see you're still clutching your cell phone in your sweaty palm. A torrent of fear, dread, anxiety, panic, depression and slight hunger crashes relentlessly against your chest. This has been going on for nine minutes and fifteen seconds. You can't breathe. You can't think. You feel like eating some chips but most of all you feel like screaming until someone hands you a large cold glass of lager because maybe drinking away problems \n\n\nYou were in trouble.\n\n\nOh yes.\n\n\nYou nervously unclench your hand though it isn't easy at this point, the joints locked in their position. When you finally pry your hand apart, you see the damage as be done, not undone as you had been childishly hoping. The text had been sent to the wrong person. It happens from time to time and usually the damage is nothing, people understand that mistakes happen all the time. People get confused or fingers slip, no big deal right? Not for you. You had just sent your ex-girlfriend a rather heated rant about her when it had meant to go to your mate, Justin. \n\n\nYou and Jen had broken up a week ago, she had burrowed your new car to go down to the local pub. On the way there, she wound up hitting a lorry and managed to scratch the side of it pretty badly. Since she was unemployed, the damage had to be paid by you, and while you had a decent job teaching at the local university, the pay was rubbish. The whole indecent may have an accident, and rather minor, it was the final straw to break the camel's back. You and Jen had a massive fight that night, you called her names, she threw glasses, you complained about her mother, she mocked your new haircut, you called her some names, and she left.\n\n\nSo to cheer yourself up, you took some time off and planned to go up North for a few days to clear your head. Justin said he'd tag along and you'd both have a great time. But as you were texting with Justin, both of you pointing out Jen's flaws and horrid habits, you ended up texting her by mistake. Since you had broken up, it could have seemed harmless but Jen's mother was a rather frightening woman who also happened to be an officer of the law, which would explain why most of your paycheck goes to paying off rubbish tickets and fines. You and Justin were just messing around, talking about the trip and Jennifer and now you were losing your mind.\n\n\nBits of the big fight were starting to come back.\n\n\nYour stomach churned as you remembered her marching outside to your new car and keying it, adding to the damage she had done. You had to see if she had checked her texts or not. Or if her mother had. That was even worse! Quickly texting the situation to Justin, you waste no time running outside and jogging down to where Jen would be. Would you apologize or would another fight push you two further apart? As you ran, you saw her mother was calling. A wild shudder threatened to rip your spine to shreds. Did you dare let it go or would you bravely pick it up?\n\n\n\"H-hello?\" You answer as you slow your jogging to dodge the elderly couple in front of you, taking their sweet time. Before her mother can begin to shew you out, you make the first strike. \"I'm so so sorry, truly I am.\" You ramble, out of breath. \n\n\n\"You have some nerve!\" The woman's shrill voice cried back.\n\n\n\"It was an accident, I'm sorry!\" You finally get across the crosswalk and are almost there. \"She's the one who left, I couldn't stop it.\" You point out as you stop dead in your tracks. The phone slips from your hand and the hunger fades away, despite the smell of fish and chips coming from the pub across the street. The laughter of drunken men and women fades away as you push the iron gate open and step onto the solemn property. Quickly you snag the phone before you fully enter. Once back on track, your heart slows down. Where could Jennifer be? Was she ready for round two? Or maybe you'd both share a laugh over a pint and reminisce? \n\n\nAs you stare into space, someone approaches you. \"You're late, Devon.\" She says. It's Jen's mother and you smile to her, mostly at your idiocy. \n\n\n\"Sorry, sorry. I know the text was awful but it wasan accident. I was hoping to talk to Jen and maybe work things out. I mean it's silly to throw three years away over a silly accident.\" You shrug and look around. \"I thought she'd be here by now, ready to punch me in the arm and call me a pillock or something.\"\n\n\nThe woman's eyes water and she looks down at your hand. \"That's her cell phone, Devon.\" She pointed out. \"You know the crowd shouldn't be kept waiting. It's due to rain soon too, she loved the rain. She would have loved today.\" She said and reached down for your hand. You give her a look of confusion. \"Her funeral, it's today.\" She began to lead you down the gray pathway. \"She got into a car accident last week, she didn't make it.\"\n\n\n\"No, I just texted her. I mean I didn't mean to, we broke up last week.\"\n\n\n\"Devon, she died, she died looking at your text.\" Her mother said, voice wavering between pity and agony. \"Please, come speak. It's okay...\"\n\n\nBut it wasn't okay. How could it be okay? You had just texted her something awful meant for someone else. How could her mother just brush it off? You had to make it right, you shook your head and ran ahead of her and found Jennifer. \"Jen! There you are, that text was a joke, I know you didn't mean to walk out on me, but I want you back. I'm sorry. I know you're sorry. I'm sorry too. I'm so sorry, please...just come home.\" You fell to your knees as you looked down at her white casket, your selected family and friends just watch as you struggle to accept the reality that has been created by a stupid mistake.",
"Drip, drip, drip. \n\nThe flooding had, by now, obviously taken control of the town, forcing residents out of their Netflix-couch-potato-inattentive lifestyles. The unbelievers, the new spiritualistic good-for-nothings were trembling now.\n \nHah!\n\nLet them suffer. Drip, drip.\n\nBut, I had to get out of my basement, there were electrical hazards here, I realize with a start. Food and clean and clear water are necessary, they would lift my spirits, make my plans stick in the fore front of my brain. Longer. God. Darkness is nothing to fear.\n\nDrip, drip, drip.\n\nMy splashing arm, it hit my face with more cold water, it was the worst on the face, colder. Oh no, I guess not, I had hit myself. Why? My leg, why couldn’t I move. My leg? It’s under the water, I can feel it! \n\nThose indolent, lackadaisical layabouts were to blame!\n\nDrip, drip, drip.\n\nJesus Christ. \n\nDrip, drip, drip. \n\nShould I just go under? NO! I have not… I haven’t… I can’t, I have not had my fill of life. God! I give myself over to your divine will, PLEASE!\nDrip, drip, drip. \n\nI hate you, I hate you. Please. Ahnn. No.\n\nSplash.\n\nDrip, drip, drip.\n\nGasp, gasp. Gasp. How many times? How many times have I done that? Threatening my own life, was a sin, and I am righteous, I am good. I shouldn’t die like this. It’s not right. \n\nDrip, drip, drip.\n\nDrip, drip, drip.\n\nBut Lord I couldn’t stop.\n"
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[WP]You catch your significant other in bed with another person, turns out, they have a perfectly valid explanation.
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"The light on the porch was a glow in a sickly yellow, casting a long monstrous shadow, long and lanky etched with sharp unrecognizable features of a figure jingling a set of keys. He tried the key over and over again, stabbing at the circled lock in utter confusion. He couldn’t quite understand why it would not fit, feeling confused and overwhelmed he headed for the back entrance. A tired head hung low in its over coat collar, shoulders slumped, hands and keys now in the pockets, as he made his way along the side of the brown stucco house. Once reaching the wooden gate he reached eagerly over it and sprang the latch revealing a well-manicured lawn, patio furniture leaning against its table and a shiny stainless steel barbeque for weekend cook outs. He spied what he was searching for, the double pained sliding glass door. Relief sank into his weary body.\n\nHe didn’t want to wake her, if he didn’t have to. It had been a long day at the office; overtime had taken its toll the past few months. It was almost like they were strangers, in fact he couldn’t even recall the last time he had seen her, let alone spent time together. He would wake just as the sun was rising, roll out of their double bed, jump in the shower, dress and gone for another day of insurance adjusting. \n\nHe longed to be near her, sleeping beside her long lean body, smelling that fragrant fruity shampoo she used, her subtle breathing in his ear, the thought of it made his eyes mist with delight.\nHe reached for the long handle and gave it a gentle tug, locked. How and why would she lock him out of his own house in the span of twelve hours? Could she be that angry at him for his neglect of her needs? He was doing this for them so they could succeed in life, going on those exotic tropic vacations she loved to take yearly, buying her the kitchen gadgets she loved but never used. For a brief moment of anguish and anger he felt like picking up one of the landscaping rocks and heaving it through the patio doors and then realized it was his own foolish mistakes that had brought them to this point.\n\nLooking to his left he saw a small opening leading to the laundry room in the basement window. Warmth washed over him, he would have to crawl in but at least he would get in and not have to bother waking her and possibly having a dramatic fight on his hands. He bent down on his hands and knees in the moist garden bed a slowly shoved the window aside. “Ah, victory” he whispered into the dark night.\n\nHe turn his body around , entering the dark musty room feet first, feeling with the toe of his brown Ascot Derby shoes, till finally it caught the laundry soap box. Soft and crumpling the more he applied his weight but better than cracking his skull on the cement floor below. As he squeezed the rest of his of himself through the window his other foot found stable ground allowing him to balance himself into the room without any further disturbance. The dark in front of him remained thick and the light from the window only glared off the white machines behind him, he would have to grope his way out of the laundry room. If only he could remember where the light switch was but this room didn’t belong to him, this was her domain; he barely came down to the laundry room. \n\nHands held high and out front, he began inching forward. The ironing board stopped him from going forward but the wall emerged from behind it. Progress being made he thought. Foot step by foot step he used the wall until he reached the wooden door leading to the upstairs landing. Carefully he turned the knob and with a click he was home. Removing his shoes he tip toed of the linoleum stair well and turned the corner it the living room. Odd how rooms look unfamiliar at night he thought, so still and strange. \n\nTaking his coat off him, he draped it over one of the high back chairs and pivoted towards the hall. The cushioned carpeting felt splendid on his sore feet, like walking of a mush, sinking with every step. Creeping down the hall he peered into the bathroom, contemplating a shower but eventually settling for the comfort of his bed. He listened to the still night and was thankful to be here, with her, getting closer to her. Motioning for the door he swung it open gently. There she lay curled in a ball with those slender feet sticking out the end of the blanket, shining like porcelain in the dappled moonlight streaming through the sheared windows. \n\nInching closer he reached for her pale straw colored hair swept carelessly over her face. To his horror the blankets moved and as she reached to pull them back, he saw the lump that lay in his spot. A Dark, sweaty lump that breathed heavy and sharp, laying there next to his wife, his girl, his lover. Anger swelled and pitched like a frothing foaming stormy sea with in him. His stomach churned a bitter acid which crept up to his throat. He would kill him, he would kill them both. \n\nSarah, open her eye partially, something was wrong she could sense it. A shadow stood at the side of her bed breathing heavy and labored. Is this a dream she pondered? Maybe that phase between sleep and awake, night terrors she recalled hazily. Suddenly, a warm sensation crawled towards her from Brad’s side of the bed and quickly she was aware that this was no dream. Startled she bolted up right, covering herself with the duvet, sucked in rapidly the air around her and let out a blood curdling scream, breaking the tranquility of the night.\n\n“BRAD…BRAD!” She bellowed closing her eyes tight.\n\n“What, what is it?” he said dazed. The he saw the deranged man next to the bed. Jumping out of the bed he looked around the dark for something to beam this guy with, anything.\n\n“WHO THE FUCK ARE AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?” Brad demanded.\n\n“You bitch,” the man hissed, eyes glowing with hatred as he loomed over her, “how could you do this to me?” \n\n“BRAD…BRAD!”\n\nBrad locked in on it in the corner on the T.V. stand, there sat his miniature golden bat from college and award he had received for the most home runs in one season. Leaping for it the cool heavy object curled in his hands perfectly. He ran toward s the man swinging, his breath ragged with every step and swing.\n\n“GET OUT! GET AWAY FROM HER YOU BASTARD! “He bellowed with each swing some connecting others, glancing off the man’s arm as he raised it to protect himself.\n\nHe ran back through the hallway, stumbling and horrified by what he had just witnessed. He darted past the furniture and reached the dead bolted door. Struggling he could hear the wind whipping behind him with every swing of the bat. Frantically he twisted the bolt and the knob at the same time wrenching it open and leaped from the top stairs on to the lawn. He would leave her, that traitor bitch, he would leave for now but he would be back, oh yes indeed, he would be back. Running down the road the dark figure disappeared into the night.\n\nBrad ran back to the bedroom to find Sarah with her cell phone in hand describing the asshole who just broke into their home. She was in tears and looked desperate as he sat down beside her, and pulled her close to him.” They’re on their way” she gulped. He held her in one hand, and clung to the golden bat with the other.\n\nTen minutes later the police were combing through Brad and Sarah’s two bedrooms, split level home, taking the coat and shoes into evidence. Asking the same routine questions until a plain clothes detective arrived. He nodded at the officers and made his way toward the couple who were hanging off each other for comfort.\n\n“Detective Lloyd”, he said handing his card to Brad, “heard you guys had quite the scare tonight”.\n\n“Yeah,” Brad said taking the card and throwing on the table next to the couch, “did you guys catch the asshole yet?”\n\n“No, he will be in hiding for a while I imagine”. He glanced at his partner that held up the trench coat and shook his head as to say yes that’s him. “Well if he comes around again, let me know”.\n\n“Hold on a minute”, Brad barked,” what do you mean if he comes around again”.\n\nThe detective looked at the shaken woman and leaned on the wall, took a deep breath and sighed. “Look, I’ll be honest with you; the guy who attacked you both tonight is an escaped loony, from Ashbury Asylum. Around ten years ago he came home from a business trip, hadn’t heard from his wife in over two weeks and came home early to surprise her, only he was the one surprised. I guess she had, had enough with good ole Jerry and was screwing around on him for some time with his best friend. Changed the locks to his house, put his shit in storage and thought she would deal with him when he got back. Well he got back, at night found away into the house and found them in his bed sleeping. Killed both of them with a butch knife from the kitchen, stabbed them too many times to count. Called it a crime of passion since Jerry never could remember what happened that night. I’ve been told by the doctors that he tries to relive that night, every night hoping to come home and just be with his wife.”\n\nBrad and Sarah stared at the detective for a minute; no word could express how close it might have been for them.\n“Just keep your doors locked and your windows, he crawled through the open basement one.”\n\nIn the dark, by a tree in the park a lanky shade hid amongst the trees, looking towards a white vinyl sided house. She must be a sleep my little darling as he noticed the dark windows. I’ll try not to wake as I go in; yes I will just sneak into bed and hold her like old times.\n",
"\"We just slipped. He came by unexpectedly to drop off a hat I'd left in his car. I had just eaten a couple of bananas and you know me, I just left the peels lying on the ground. I know you've said not to eat in bed, but I was just feeling lazy. Err his clothes? Oh uh well his pants got caught on the door handle and he took his shirt off to cover himself. I just got out of the shower so I was naked anyways.\"\n\nThis writing prompt courtesy of my girlfriend. Still can't believe she would eat bananas in bed after I specifically told her not to.",
"I know it looks bad but please let me try to explain,\n\nI was watching you on the news, on CNN about a Malaysian plane,\n\nThe flight was 370, said it vanished without a trace,\n\nSo now you understand exactly, this expression on my face.\n\nWhere have you been, Jim? Everyone was worried sick about you,\n\nNo phone calls, no texts not even an e-mail either, too.\n\nI mean what did you expect, me to just sit here and wait?\n\nEveryone thought you were dead, God, this reminds me so much of \"Cast Away.\"\n\nSeriously, you like Helen Hunt, you know she didn't try to hurt Tom Hanks.\n\nShe was just trying to make something happen out of a situation that stinks.\n\nI'm just like her, you get it, your plane crashed it must have, right?\n\nI even told you before you left, you should have caught another flight.\n\nThis wouldn't have happened, we woulda had time to prepare,\n\nGet married and have children, start a new life in Delaware.\n\nJust like we planned, remember, we had it all laid out,\n\nThat was what this whole trip of yours was all about...\n\nGet paid, go to Dover, get some part-time jobs, start a family -- buy a dog?\n\nBuy a boat and go fishing in the bay for lobsters in the early morning fog?\n\nIt woulda been great, but then you had to make that trip, honey,\n\n*\"OH I GOTTA GO TO MALAYSIA, ITS IMPORTANT FOR OUR NEST EGG MONEY!\"*\n\nWELL NOW LOOK AT ME, left all alone worried sick!\n\nBut, deep down I knew though that- \n\n**I'm 3 hours late, bitch! Now can you get off that other man's dick!?**\n\n\n",
"\"What's going on here?\" I demanded. I had returned home from a business trip early, only to find my husband in bed with another person.\n\n\"Mommy's home!\" my five-year-old daughter exclaimed from the bed. She was wearing one of my best pillowcases as a cape.\n\n\"There was a thunderstorm, so she wanted to sleep in here with me,\" my husband explained sheepishly. He had a bedsheet tied around his own neck, also approximating a cape. \"We wanted to practice being brave, so we are playing superheroes.\"\n\nI smiled. Best husband ever.",
"They were in bed together again. \n\nI have to admit that I didn't mind. I enjoyed watching them together. No jealousy from me, just the vicarious pleasure of watching them together. Limbs entwined, his face against my wife's sleep warm body. \nEver since he started living with us, they would sleep together, perhaps two, perhaps three times a week. \n\nI loved to watch them. The only rough part was that he would never let me join them when they were together. To be honest though, I didn't mind. All I felt was love. \n\nAnd then it was over. He'd finished feeding. ",
"\"But...but why are you naked?\" \n\n\"Look, Tim I think we really need to be mature about this!\"\n\n\"Look,\" Tim began, \"I can believe he tripped over the step in our room while you were looking for your copy of 50 Shade of Grey under the covers. I can even buy that he fell in the bed with you and twirled around until you were tangled in the blankets and sheets. It's awkward, but believable. But why on Earth were you both naked?\"\n\n\"Well...I was going to take a shower so I was in the bathroom, naked and I had to use the toilet before I took my shower. I wanted something to read, so I slipped out to grab this from under the covers.\" \n\nShe held up the book, a small dent appearing on it from the accidental rough-housing.\n\n\"Look man—\"\n\n\"Hansel, stay out of this!\" she snapped.\n\n\"Damnit Mary, why is Hansel naked?!\" Tim demanded.\n\n\"...Hansel...is...a nudist?\"\n\nMary spoke, uncertain.\n\n\"Y-yeah...yeah! I'm...a nudist!\" Hansel confirmed.\n\nTim stood there frowning for a moment. Then he smiled.\n\n\"Well that explains that! Come one Mary! Put some clothes on and we can go get some lunch with the Fredricksons!\"\n\nTim walked away and both Mary and Hansel breathed a sigh of relief.\n\n\"That's some husband you got, Mary.\"\n\n\"Hansel, he can *never* find out about us. NEVER.\"\n\nHansel's gaze shifted, \"Yeah, okay. I got it.\"\n\n\"I'm serious,\" Mary said sternly, \"Tim can never know that I'm...I'm...\"\n\nShe lifted up the sheets to reveal a variety of paints and crowbars and a piece of canvas that may or may not have been dedicated on.\n\n\"A modern artist.\""
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[WP] A horse walks into a bar. The bartender does the sensible thing and calls animal control, but it'll be an hour until they arrive.
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"The bartender hung up the phone and took a long hard look at the horse that stood in the middle of his small bar. Maybe he should have tried leading it out the way it came without calling animal control. He knew that leaving the bar door open had it's disadvantages but it was hot, the A/C was out, and it was more welcoming to customers on a slow day like today. Now he was stuck with this horse for one hour. Animal control had said to keep it in the vicinity till they arrive. Now the door was closed and the heat was already beginning to build. Or maybe it seemed exaggerated by the thoughts of what the owner, an unreasonably ill tempered man, would think about this situation. Already, he had a day set to quit and probably shouldn't care as much as he did, but it was a feeling he couldn't let go. Sweat began to run down his temples. \n\nThis temperature had to be hard on the horse as well. The bartender, out of care and of not wanting animal control to find a horse passed out from dehydration, filled a pitcher with water for the horse. 'My name's Gary...here's some water'. He felt slightly embarrassed for having introduced himself to the horse but felt it somehow necessary as he was about to spend the next hour with this animal. As he returned to the bar from the table where he placed the pitcher down the front door opened and a couple began to enter. Sometimes things happen in life that only seem to happen in the well ordered environment of movies or television, but somehow cross over into real life and lend it some sense of surrealism. Just as they stepped in, the horse released a rather massive amount of gas and followed it up by defecating on the floor. This was enough to stun them, the couple were trying to process what they had just witnessed. After a moment of exchanges glances, one of the women pulled out their phone, took a picture then both slowly took their leave. \n\n(Back to work.) ",
"Paul wasn't very good with animals, it was even on his list of long list of deal breakers when it came to women. Much less beasts of this magnitude. He had really seen it all now. Ten years in this bar and now a horse walks in. Paul had debated calling the owners and tendering his resignation rather then animal control, he wasn't even supposed to be here today.\n\n\"What'd they say?\" came the Australian accent. Paul turned to Jim who sat at his empty bar, save the lone patron and of course, the horse.\n\n\"An hour.\" came Paul's flat reply.\n\n\"Well, that's just lovely isn't it. Gotta love 'em government boys.\" Jim took a long draw on his pint. Paul contemplated the irony coming from a man who usually had his first pint by eleven. What does Jim even do? Paul thought to himself but stayed his tongue once again. \"What you gonna do about this bloke? It's probably against a few of your American laws to actually have a horse IN the bar.\" Jim laughed.\n\n\"Pour it a drink? Tell it a joke? Hell, I could even charge people to ride it? Perhaps that will get someone in here before happy hour. I'll write on the sign, 'come on in and ride a Mustang!' What do you think?\"\n\n\"How do you know it's a Mustang mate?\"\n\n\"You ever see Hidalgo? It looks just like the horse.\"\n\n\"Nah, I never seen't it. At least he's bloody calm for a wild animal. Tell you what, I'll buy it a drink, two Jameson's barkeep!\" Jim thrusted his finger into the air. Paul laughs. \"Seriously mate, two Jameson's, one for me and one for the horse, he looks to be eighteen.\"\n\n\"Twenty-one is the age Jim.\"\n\n\"Right, well, whatever, he seems good for it.\"\n\n\"Fine, but these are going on your tab.\" Paul poured two healthy shots of Irish whisky and set them in front of his two patrons.\n\n\"Cheers, big ears,\" Jim raised the pitch of his voice and in a poor attempt of ventriloquy, \"same goes, big nose.\" He shot back his whiskey. Just then the horse quickly bent slightly to the bar, grabed the shot glass with his mouth, tilted his head up consuming the spirit then spit the glass on the floor. Both Paul and Jim watched then turned to each other, both barely able to believe what just happened.\n\n\"That was fucking AWESOME!\" Jim exclaimed. He still held his empty shot glass. \"Do it again!\" Jim slamed the shot glass on the bar and dug in his pocket. He pulled out his phone and after a few quick swipes, handed it to Paul. \"Get it on video.\"\n\n\"Really?\"\n\n\"Yeah fucking really. I'm gonna viral video that shit, now do it.\" A couple quick pours of whiskey while Jim slid down next to the horse and they were prepared. \"Okay, ready?\"\n\n\"Yeah, go.\" Paul started the video capture on the smartphone.\n\n\"Cheers, big ears.\" Jim clinked the shot glasses together and again in the same high register, \"same goes, big nose.\" Once again the horse shot his whiskey and spit the glass on the ground. \"Let me see.\" Jim stared at his phone for a moment, \"Ah, this is shit. Let's do it again.\"\n\nThe duo tried different lighting, different angles even Paul's phone before Jim was finally satisfied with the effect. Eight discarded shot glasses lay on the floor at the horses feet.\n\n\"I like this one.\" Jim slurs. Paul wasn't sure if it were actually better or Jim just thought that it was. \"Now, let's see, do you know how to post this?\"\n\n\"Sure.\" Paul walked Jim through the posting process and after a few moments he showed Jim the final product.\n\n\"Brilliant.\" Jim stared at the screen in awe. Just then the door opened revealing two men, clearly the animal control.\n\n\"We're here to see a man about a horse.\" One of the animal control workers stated, both of them snickered at the comment. \"Is this it?\" The man who spoke pointed at the horse.\n\n\"No, that's bloody Gary.\" Jim drunkenly laughed at his own comment.\n\n\"Yeah it is.\" Paul stated. The men escorted the horse out of the bar leaving Paul and Jim alone.\n\n\"Well, that was fun mate, guess I'm back to work.\" Jim got up and staggered out the door.\n\n\"What does that guy even do?\" Paul muttered to himself now alone. \"I kinda miss that horse.\" Paul prepared for happy hour, slightly melancholy and right at five a man in a business suit walked in.\n\n\"What'll it be?\" Paul questioned.\n\n\"I'll have a--\" the business man paused. \"Hey, why the long face?\""
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this is what i read the original WP as, and now i think i might die if i dont read something with this quote in it.
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[WP] "I ain't here to save the fucking chicken"
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"Shin ran down the alleyway behind El and Ni. As they made their way down the alleyway they made their way up the walls bounding them in. By the time they reached the top of the walls the alleyway came to a dead end.\n\n\"Time for the hard part,\" Shin whispered as he carefully opened the door at the top of the building. El jumped through first as Ni stood watch on the roof. Shin slid into the darkness and watched what happened on the floor below from the rafters.\n\n\"We can do this the easy way or the hard way,\" El shouted in the middle of the floor, sizing up what he had to deal with. Find the Boss's room and take the data disks and get out. However, this place seemed to be a chicken farm.\n\n\"Let's go with the hard way,\" a deep voice came in, chains dragging on the floor. As the two engaged in battle Shin snuck off to the main office.\n\nAs El and the burly man traded blows, chains striking against blade, both countering the each attack, but unable to make any advances against the other in the subsequent counterattack. Shin quickly got the required documents and got back to the floor to see the two still locked in combat. As Shin quickly and quietly backstabbed El's opponent a loud shot was heard from the rooftop, Ni was just getting company. El started to open up one of the cages when Shin interrupted saying, \"I ain't here to save the fucking chicken.\" and pulled El by his hood as he jumped up the cages to make it to the exit.\n\nAs they made it outside Ni was just finishing taking care of his visitors and the three made their way back to their main base.\n\n----------------------------------------------------\nSo, uh, if you guys want to give me feedback that would be greatly appreciated.\n\nI tried to write a completely unrelated story with just barely any background at all for how the writing prompt would fit into it. Also, anime physics.",
"Why did the chicken cross the road?\n\n*Why* did the chicken cross the road?\n\n***WHY*** did the chicken cross the road?\n\nYou're probably thinking- \"to get to the other side\", aren't you?\n\n... Aren't you?\n\nI assure you it's not that simple\n\nThen again, why even believe me?\n\nThe logic of the joke never stood\n\nI could Wikipedia why it was ever there to begin with\n\nBut have you ever really thought about it?\n\nI mean \"really\" thought about it?\n\nWhy would an entire culture adopt this joke?\n\nWhy is it a slogan?\n\nWhy do we just.. accept it?\n\nI could guide you through answers\n\nOr I could let you think about it..\n\nI ain't here to save the fucking chicken",
"As I was walking down the street I heard screams coming from my neighbors house. I ran up to the door and swiftly kicked it in. Upon entering I saw my beautiful female neighbor laying bare naked on the floor crying. I had to take a peek at the goods, she was absolutely stunning. Next to her was a chicken quickly bleeding out from the neck. .She said she was cutting tomatoes and accidentally dropped the knife into the chicken who happened to be walking under her. I looked at her with a stern face and said \"baby, I ain't here to save the fucking chicken...\"",
"\"Call me crazy but I told this chicken,\n\nRather than eat you, you should be a regular civilian.\n\nUntil then, drumsticks killed, and I'm to blame at,\n\nKFC, sprite gets spilled and I--\n\ntake my plate back \n\nTo the place that I got my wings at\n\nGive ev-er-y foul who got ate that \n\npumped up hormone and meat to make fat\n\nall of the kids that ate 'em\n\n*I ain't here to save the fuckin' chicken,*\n\n*but if a single rooster out of a thousand million,*\n\n*who are goin' through a grinder,*\n\n*feels they can jump off the crate, that's great!*\n\nIt's payback! \n\nHuman beings fallin' way back\n\non the food chain\n\nTurn victims into victors, eatin' loose grain,\n\nstraw, GMO corn, we WILL win!\n\nbowlers kill pins, I'm tryin' ta say that\n\nmaybe I need to face facts, I--\n\nTaste that\n\nI ain't nuts for veal\n\nBut they're okay with that\n\nIt's something\n\nAnd I'm still friends with the...\"\n\n\"...I'm friends with the poultry, \n\nthat's onto my plate!\n\nPlease hand me a thigh when, \n\nI'm out on a date!\"\n\nIt helps to hear the actual tune while reading this. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LpiAC2IOC7s",
"The man wore a red poofball hat with a yellow poofball, around his neck a thick yellow scarf was firmly tightened above his red garments, a loose sweater and an even looser and baggier pair of sweatpants. \n\nHis name was Steve...or was it Bill? Nobody remembered, everywhere he went he was known as Gobbels. Gobbels roamed the streets back and forth between his house and the diner his parents owned and worked at. He knew these 2 miles of streets like the back of his hand, unfortunately for Gobbels he was autistic and couldn't find the back of his hand even if his life depended on it. Needless to say it wasn't uncommon for Gobbels to turn up in one of the surrounding neighbor's backyard aimlessly tugging at and crawling through their shrubberies. Having been abandoned at home every day since infancy as his parents were off at work Gobbels regularly spent his days wandering where ever his legs would take him.\n\nAt his mature age of 43, the neighbors were well aware of Gobbels' past and daily escapades in the neighborhood, and most had even had the experience of harbouring him at their home, worried that he had nowhere else to go for the remainder of the day. Once Gobbels had even remained in a neighbor's for over a month, however when the child of the couple caring for Gobbels was potty trained, it dawned upon the couple that Gobbels was the source of the odd watery turds that showed up around the house now and then. At that realisation Gobbels was brusquely returned to his parents. \n\nThis did not sit well with Gobbels father as he told the couple he would simply rather have him put to sleep than foster him once again, the woman of the neighbor couple pleaded with her manly counterpart to at the very least find a safe place for Gobbels, but after much of the bitch's nagging he was fed up and told her \"I ain't her to save the fucking chicken\".\n\nA week later a plump red figure was found drowned in the city's river. It was Gobbels. His parents lived happily ever after for the two following years they still lived until they died in their seventies. The couple divorced and their child became a juvenile delinquent.\n\nSatisfied OP?",
"Ms. Henley was at the chalkboard again writing out an equation for the class to solve. \n\nZach leaned back and stretched his feet out to nudge the desk in front of him. Charlotte turned around and gave him a sneer and went back to her assignment. \n\n*Girls are all the same,* thought Zach as he put the finishing touches on his masterpiece. After he finished off the last bullet he put down his pencil, crossed his arms and looked down at what he had created. \n\n*God damnit Roger, can't you drive any faster?* Louis barked as Roger turned the wheel and the car skidded around a corner. \n\n\"You gotta be kidding me honey, I drive any faster and ol' Zack back there is gonna fly right outta that window,\" whined Roger as he nodded his head to the backseat. \n\nZack was in the backseat holding on for his life as the car skidded this way and that. As he slammed into the right side he grimaced and gave out a growl, \"We gotta get to that prison, we gotta stop 'em before they brainwash all those kids, step on it pa!\"\n\nFinally the car screeched to a halt and Zack leapt out, trench coat flying behind him. He dropped his shades over his eyes and marched towards the entrance. As he opened the door, he reached to his side and pulled out his gun. It was nice and black, heavy in the hand, and the sound made him smile when he gave the trigger a pull. \n\nFeathers flew and a scream went out as doors were slammed and bolts were locked. A big bear turned the corner from the hall, all dressed up and breathing mighty heavily. Fear was in his eyes. \n\n\"Now son, you don't want to do this. Just give me the gun and we'll get this all straightened out,\" said the old, gruff Mr. Yogi. \n\n\"But, I've got to put an end to it, sir.\" Replied Zack. The loud clap echoed off the walls as his tail began to wag. \n\nNose to the ground, he began to find the scent. That horrible sent that the cruel old slave-master emitted. He followed it right to the door. It took some whining and scratching before that large cow turned the knob. \n\nAs soon as the door was open, Ms. Henleyetta realized her mistake. She had let the savior in. She rushed backwards as quickly as her fat legs could carry her, blouse barely able to contain her udders. She had the prisoners up against the far wall, well away from the door. She stood in front of them, her splotchy skin almost hiding them all. \n\n*\"Zack, you best sit back down right this instant,\"* she mooed at him. \n\nHe looked around and saw all of them, the dogs and the cats, the raccoon and that bitch of an otter. The crows and the doves. The chicken, Char the chicken, the one he hoped he would still be able to save. \n\nShe had the paper though, she was already too far gone.\n\n*\"Zach, sit down right this instant and get back to the problem. If the chicken laid...\"*\n\nFive minutes later, he sat in front of a desk as a big, hairy man sat opposite, shaking his head and sighing. \n\n\"Why? Mr. Bronson, why would you draw a thing like this?\" asked Mr. Yuri. \n\n\"I don't know, I.. uh.. I.. just guess I was bored,\" replied young Zachary Bronson.\n\n\"Animals,\" muttered Mr. Yori through his great big beard. \"They're just animals.\"\n\nMr. Yori stared at Zach through eyes as hard as steel, \"Your parents have been contacted and they are on the way, I'm afraid I cannot tolerate this behavior young man. You will be suspended for three days, I hope you learn a lesson from this. More behavior like...\"\n\nAs the old bear continued to grunt and growl, Zack looked down at his paws and wondered if there was a way to get out of this. He thought of Charlotte, long since lost. Her feathers were always preened smooth and clean and her cluck was so pretty. He knew a dog like him would never get a chicken like her and it was better that it ended the way that it did, but still..\n\n\"Are you even listening to me,\" bellowed Mr. Yuri. \n\n\"Yessir,\" replied Zach.\n\n\"Well then, just to clarify; what did you say to Ms. Henley?\"\n\n\"I ain't here to save the fucking chicken.\"",
"Every few seconds the night sky was lit up by another distant explosion. Helicopters roared overhead. A stopped semi-truck's radio was turned to NPR, \"Tonight's Guest.\" A sudden interruption of the broadcasting alarm system sounded with three loud and sudden sirens. \"This is an Emergency Broadcasting Alert all civilians must evacuate. At 8:45 P.M. a biological weapon was released inside the city limits. All emergency responders please report to Med Zone 1.\" Three loud sires blared. \n\n\n\"And that's all I heard,\" spoke Mike. \"Yep, I was walking along in the traffic jam and heard that over some trucker's radio. Some attack or something.\" Mike reached for his backpack, and pulled out a radio. \"Since then I haven't heard a thing.\"\n\n\n\"Well that is not what I was expecting,\" replied Zipporah. \"I knew we were going to be attacked. I kept telling my husband. He would not listen to me if I paid him to.\"\n\n\n\"Hey now,\" interjected Steve. \"I did listen. I packed my bug out bag just like Mike taught us.\" \n\n\nThe three scanned the horizon. Mike was the quintessential redneck with a Confederate flag worn proudly on the back of his leather coat. Zipporah was an exotic girl from a Caribbean island who had a 'thing' for purple. Steve was a simple guy from the Midwest. Steve and Zipporah had met in college. \n\n\n\"Well aren't you two glad I taught you a thing or two 'bout preppin!\" Mike said with a jovial attitude. \"The rest of the gang should be spilling in soon.\"\n\n\n\"Mike, last night Steve and I walked for a very long time. Traffic was just as congested as you had predicted. I do have a question for you though, how long are we going to stay in this cabin of yours?\" Zipporah spoke with a slight accent, she was wearing jeans and tight-fitting shirt the night of the attack. \n\n\n\"Well Steve and Zipp we're going be waitin' here till the end of the week. Unless anything crazy happens.\" Mike spoke with a southern charm, a hint of racism, and loved the Confederacy. \n\n\n\"You two, I feel like inviting the others was a mistake. But I understand that we all have to stick together.\" Steve was a thinker, a strategist, and spoke very mild-mannered. To himself, \"I just hope my plan works too.\"\n\n\nThe next morning, several visitors made their way to the cabin. Tiffany and Tim arrived with their daughter Suzie. They were the essence of white suburban life. Jamal arrived several minutes later, and was dressed like he just got off work. Jamal worked the night shift for the railroad, and was still wearing his hardhat and neon-safety vest. Later, Carlos and Ximena showed up. They were a beautiful couple from Miami. \n\n\n\"I'm glad ya'll made it in one piece!\" Mike said with a promised smile. \n\n\n\"Well I'm going to tell you there is some shit going down out there you don't want to know about. Ya'll best be stepping away from here.\" Jamal was scared when he spoke. \n\n\n\"Like what Jamal?\" The group spoke in unison. \n\n\n\"Well last night I was working the graveyard at the maintenance shop. We had the radio on and heard about some attack. The radio got quiet. We just thought it was nuts. We still had to get stuff done at the railyard, and we didn't expect anybody to show up. About 2 in the morning, we heard a whistle. Trains don't normally come in till 6, so we this was strange. The locomotive pulled up and the conductor hopped out.\" Jamal got gravely quiet. \n\n\n\"Well get on it with it boy, we need to know!\" Mike demanded more. \n\n\n\"Anyway, the conductor leaps down from the train. He has boils all over his face and puss rolling over the side of his cheeks. He said he seen things. That we'd all be changing. That the attack caused people to get really sick, that they were beginning to turn into something awful.\" \n\n\n\"I do not understand. This just sounds like an ordinary biological attack. I do not hear anything suspicious.\" Zipporah kept interjecting Jamal with scientific reasoning. \n\n\nJamal shouted, \"Don't yall see. We ain't dealing with motherfucking terrorist no more. We got bigger problems. Zipp you should know, aint you from the islands? Yall got this problem before.\"\n\n\nThe group spent the day going through inventory. Quiet thoughts were had by every member of the group. Carlos, Steve, Mike, and Jamal went to look over the weapons. Ximena, Zipporah, Suzie, and Tiffany went to review the food supplies. Tim began looking at maps.\n\n\n",
"Yates had gone mad. I expected as much when I came out here. A man can't spend a year in these mountains sniping alone and not be touched.\n\nHis mission was simple - find Wazzi Fared and kill him. But, like most other missions we went on, the facts on the ground were a bit more complex. Fared traveled only at night, only in the mountains, lived only in caves. Not much for a sniper to work with, but Yates did his best. And now it was his turn to go home and my turn to go mad.\n\n\"See those lights?\" he said to me when we met. \"Those lights are from the train\". I nodded, thinking that there were no trains in these mountains.\n\nHe showed me his nest. Hunkering down into shooting position, he took my rifle and motioned for me to lie next to him.\n\n\"I ain't here to save the fucking chicken\" he explained. I had no idea what that meant.\n\n\"There. Right. Fucking. There.\" He fixed my gun in position and pointed for me to look through the scope. It was a cave entrance.\n\n\"That's where Fared is?\" I asked. Yates shook his head.\n\n\"Do I look like a fucking ballerina?\" he asked. Covered in gillie, I had to think not.\n\n\"Yates, maybe it's time for the transfer. Time for you to head down. Why not pack up and move out?\" I more ordered than asked.\n\n\"Two down, none to go.\" he said, grabbing his already packed kit and walking away. \n\nTen days passed and not once in any minute of any of those ten days did I see so much as a fly hovering in front of that cave. I began thinking Yates was more off his rocker than he let on, and he let on pretty heavy. My intel report had Fared two ranges over, in a small village. Which didn't quite sit right, because he never went to villages. It was mid-day so I went to sleep, better to be rested for another evening of green scope night-vision theater.\n\nI woke to the sound of a whistle and rolled toward my gun. *\"Where the fuck is the train?\"* I thought as I turned over. For whatever reason, superstition I suppose, I had left the rifle right where Yates had set it up. Movement. Through the scope it looked like wings flapping. I switched to my binoculars to get a wider look. A man was carrying birds and they fluttered near his head, concealing his face. He spun on one leg, like a pirouette. \n\nFared. It had to be. And suddenly Yates words came back to me. *\"I ain't here to save the fucking chicken\"*\n\nOne shot. Two kills. Counting the chicken.",
"What can a single electron do?\n\nAl looked around, Not much I guess. But they say there's more of us. A bunch. We just can't see em all.\n\nHerman phased in, phased out of existence. Listening all the while.\n\nThey say, me and you, we was together at one time. One and the same, said Al. They say we are a part of somethin' else. Somethin' bigger.\n\nWhat about the Dark ones? asked Herman.\n\nThe dark energy?\n\nI'm here, I'm there, I'm all over the place. All at the same time, Al. And yet, nowhere. Everywhere and nowhere. Everything and nothing. You know how I feel? At least you got others - a family. I only got *one*. I spend every waking moment, defending this one measly proton. Al, I can't even *see* him. Do you have any idea how far away he is. Sometimes... sometimes I think there ain't nothin really there. Millions and millions of miles between us. What am I fighting for?\n\nAl thought for a moment. \n\nThey say it's got feathers you know? They say it was once somethin else, somethin much bigger and stronger. Hundreds of millions of years, though, and it's still here. Ain't the same, but it's still here. Fighting. Surviving. Just like you and me. They named it *chicken*.\n\nLet 'em come, said Herman. Let 'em come. I'll fill the void with the last of 'em. I've come this far, Al. We both have. Ain't givin up now are we? I don't know what the hell is out there, what's in store for us. And I'm protecting something I can't even see. But it's what I know. I'll do what I can, Al. I'll fight the battle that I'm put here for. But I ain't here to save no fucking chicken.",
"'Hank Thunder, I knew you'd save us!' The children yelled, as the incredibly muscular man punched his way into the burning school. \n\n'No problem kids, just climb on my incredibly ripped back and I'll get you out of here.' He grunted, gathering up the 20 children and leaping out the window. They all landed safely, cheering as Hank stuck the jump.\n\n'Gee Mr Thunder, you sure are swell!' one of the kids said, as the class formed a circle around the action hero, whilst the building continued to burn.\n\n'That I am Timmy.'\n\n'My name is Billy.'\n\n'Whatever George. But there is still something I need to do.' he replied, sweating dripping off him as frenzied squawking could be heard from the inferno.\n\n'Yeah, you need to save our class chicken!' Billy yelled, pointing to the fowl that was dangerously close to becoming part of a Bargain Bucket.\n\n'I'm not here to saving the fucking chicken Terrance, I'm here to stop my nemesis Professor Cluckenstein.'\n\n'That's our chicken's name Hank! You need to save him before he gets away or fries!' another kid said, pointing at the manic bird.\n\n'I can't possibly save him, he is an evil mastermind bent on world domination, he deserves to fry.' Hank replied, remembering that time at the battery farm.\n\n'But he is our chicken and we really looked after him. Don't heroes save the villain, even if they are about to die?' another kid added, looking up at the grizzled hero. He remembered his days in the academy, that time he let someone die when he could have brought them in. That shootout in the teddy bear factory haunted him but this was the time to get it right.'\n\n'Alright Ernistine, I'll rescue your chicken but he is going on trial after this. I can't let his fowl antics go on for any longer.\n\nThe children groaned, wincing at the awful pun.\n\n'Come on, that was good.' Hank answered, as he dove back into the burning building. He dodged falling beams, flaming work displays and the smell of burning gym socks until he made it up to the classroom. He saw his feathery nemesis there, running about in fear.\n\n'I can't believe I'm doing this but I'm here to save you Cluckenstein.' Hank muttered, trying to calm the angry bird.\n\n'Hank Thunder, thank you!' The bird yelled, turning to face the sweaty man.\n\n'Jump into my hands and we can get out of here! Then I'm taking you to jail.' He said, holding out his arms. A flaming beam fell from the ceiling, cracking the floor in half. The chicken scrambled backwards, afraid of the heat. Seeing the teddy bear shooting flash before his eyes, he jumped over the gap, falling short and managing to grasp the edge.\n\n'Cluckstein, help me help you get out of here and into jail.' He begged, trying to pull himself up. The chicken walked forward, a smile creeping across his face.\n\n'You poor fool Hank, this was all set up. The burning building, children at risk and your arch nemesis in danger? The perfect place to trap you.' The chicken said, the flames growing higher.\n\n'All this time you have been a wrench in my plans but no more. After I let you burn in this school, I will set forth my plans for world domination and not even you can stop me!' He walked over to the hero, clearly struggling to hold on.\n\n'You can't do this. I was going to save you...' Hank replied, his strength failing\n\n'Oh boo hoo. Little Hank is dicing with death. Get over yourself. Now excuse me, I have a world to take over. It has been fun Hank! This is what happens when you cluck with the wrong evil chicken.' ",
"**EDIT: WOW I can't believe I misread the title. Oh well, too late now. I hope you all enjoy despite the lack of farm animals.**\n\n\"I ain't here to save the fucking children.\"\n\nHis words rang through the lobby and one of the women behind me stifled a sob.\n\nHis voice was rough and dry, tempered by years of shouting and smoke. He was haggard, had been haggard before the bombs dropped and now it served him well. A small greasy tuft of white hair was slick against his otherwise bald head with sweat, an unkempt mustache plastered across his lips and nose. His mouth pulled back into a snarl that was nearly toothless, and his bony hands clutched harder at the old rifle that I'd had my eyes locked on since he walked through the blasted out entrance to the hospital. \n\nHe began to walk towards us again, and I quickly found my voice.\n\n\"I didn't mean that... that we expect you to-\"\n\n\"Can it, you fuckin' ninny. Empty yer backpacks. The lot of you, all of them, empty them onto the ground and take a few steps back or I'll punch a few holes in little Susie here.\" He leveled the rifle at Stephen's nine-year old daughter Tamina, who promptly lost all color and collapsed to the ground.\n\nThe man cackled as we all obeyed. Only a moment had passed before we stood at a short distance while he surveyed what little remained of our supplies.\n\n\"Buncha fuckin' garbage, this is why there were so many miserable fat fucks everywhere before the hammer fell. Cookies and cakes, cheesy chips and nacho bullshit. The fuck is wrong with you people? *I want some fuckin' meat!*\" \n\nThe gun shook in his grasp as he shouted the last few words, and his eyes lit up in a way that told me I was running out of time to do something.\n\n\"The stores are all looted,\" I began. \"We've only managed to scavenge what we have from-\"\n\n\"Fuck yer excuses, and fuck yer cheesy chips. I'll just be taking the two cunts what're grown, you can keep the brats and I can keep my bullets and we can all walk away with no blood on the floor.\"\n\nHe lowered the gun just a bit, waving it slightly towards Ashley and Margaret the way a traffic officer might wave a truck through an intersection.\n\nMy bones turned to ice in an instant. My logic and emotions and instinct all battled in a fierce cyclone of internal struggle that seemed to last an eternity, and just as I opened my mouth to the deliver the 'Fuck off' that was sure to end me, Ashley stepped forward and spoke.\n\n\"That's fine, just treat us well. Let's go Margaret, we can't let him hurt the children.\"\n\nMargaret's mouth was agape in shock and horror as Ashley slowly walked towards the armed interloper, and the wheels in my head spun faster and faster. I had gotten to know Ashley very well over the last few weeks and I knew that this had to be a ruse. I watched her carefully for some inkling of what was to happen and what I should do. What worried me was that the man was scrutinizing her as heavily as I, with the rifle trained squarely on Ashley's midriff. \n\nThe second that Ashley seemed to be passing the man towards the lobby entrance, she pivoted and sprang towards him, flailing her arms out in a desperate bid to seize the weapon. I sprang forward on my heels, pumping my legs to close the fifteen foot distance between my fists and this bastards skull. \n\nHe fired two shots into Ashley's gut as her hands met the rifle's barrel, and she slumped to the floor without a sound. I screamed for her, rage and agony balled into a primal war cry that would be my farewell to the world. Ashley's ineffective tackle had bought me most of the time I needed, but the man's lead tore through my chest at the last moment. My spirited charge was reduced to the momentum I had built while running, and my limp body slammed into his legs as my life began to ebb away.\n\nI could hear the other's charge as the room began to swim. Stephen and Margaret and the children, screaming and scrambling. Another gunshot. Someone lands on my back, then the man lands on the floor beside me, small feet and large hands pummeling his face and head. His blood mingles with mine on the linoleum floor, and in that last moment, the moment before his friends walk through the door and unleash a hail of bullets into Stephen and Margaret and the children, I can see that we are both the same.",
"Henrietta the cow was depressed. In general her life was fairly crummy and not only because her parents had really been hoping she would be a bull who they could call Henry, so she was stuck with this stupid name. No, Henriette was depressed for the reason that you, or I, would be in her position. Stuck in a field, with dozen of other cows, being milked twice a day, she had almost given up all hope of becoming a Jazz singer. \n\nSince she was a young calf, gambolling in the north field, she had imagined herself working the bars of New Orleans, in a slinky red dress, huskily singing along with a group called something like the *Dan Crow four.* She knew she would have been great, sexily working the tables while huskily singing the old songs. \n\nIt was her shame and her sorrow but at least, here in the field she could sing her heart out and no one would stop her, the other cows barely seemed to notice. \"Moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo\" she sang, her heart swelling as the first verse rippled off her lips. \"Moooooooooooooooooooooooooo-oooooooooooooo-ooo\" She sexily breathed out before slipping to the bridge \"Moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo\". \n\nShe looked around, no one had notice. Hanging her head she brought back up some cud and slowly chewed. This was her life, unappreciated, ahead of her time and never to be discovered. \n\nShe'd been facing North for a few hours and in desperation for a change she decided that East was the way to go and so slowly began to turn when a voice from behind chirped up. \n\n\"You got talent sweet cheeks - how'd a hay chewer like you learn to sing like that?\" She looked back in surprise and found a crow, perched on the wall, watching her with intent. \n\n\"You liked it?\" She could hardly believe that he was talking to her. \n\nThe crow fluffed his feathers. \"Liked it? Sweetheart, you see my white leg here? That's where I shit myself with job listening to you. You got talent kid and I can tell from the way you move you got moxie too.\" \n\nHenrietta let herself feel a flutter of excitement. \"You really think so? Wow, thank you Mr ...?\" \n\n\"The name's Bob B Crow, I'm a music scout and a crow. I've heard a lot of talent around barn yards over the years and I'm telling you doll, you've got it! I'm gonna take you away from here, save you from this life of shit eating and milk pumping and you and I'm gonna make you a star\" \n\nBreathing suddenly seemed hard and she had to stop and think for a moment. This was so fast and so sudden. Modesty began to kick in, trying to protect her after years of heartbreak \"I'm not that good, honestly, if you go up to the coop Sally the chicken has a much better voice, much more pop, more commercial. You could take her, save her!\" \n\n\"I ain't here to save the fucking chicken\" he snapped back, I'm here to find a jazz superstar and I got that right here. Big tears of joy slowly began to roll down Henrietta's face. All these years, all that time, it was happening just as she'd imagined. \n\n\"Now look.\" Bob fixed her with a beady eye. \"I'm gonna go sort out the contract and I'll be back soon and we'll blow this one field farm and got into the city.\" Henrietta could only nod in response. \"You keep working and I'll see you soon sweetheart.\" \n\nHer heart set Henrietta worked day and night, scales, Jazz, pop, she stretched herself every day. As the days turned to weeks she kept the faith but as summer turned to Autumn and then Winter she realised that it had been just another cruel jest. \n\nBy Spring her heart was broken and she sang no more during the day. Only at night when everyone else slept could occasionally you hear her haunting song across the yard \"Moooooooooooooooo, mooooo mooo mooooooooooooo.\" \n\n"
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[WP] As you go about your morning routine you notice that the toliet seat is warm... you live alone.
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"I got up at the same time as every day, 7:00 am Pacific Standard Time. I threw off the same blankets, fell out of the same bed, stood up on the same floor and walked out the same door as every day. I went down the same staircase and went out my front door to grab my mail and newspaper. No mail today, but the daily paper was here. I quite liked reading the news because things were never quite the same. Sure, every day involved murderers and issues in other countries and all that bad stuff, but it's always somewhat different. Newspaper in hand, I walked back up the same stairs, went a bit down the same hall, and took a left turn to enter the same bathroom I enter every day. I flipped up the same lid of the same ol' toilet and sat my ass down... and it was definitely not the same. I leapt up, my newspaper scattering across the bathroom. What the hell? The toilet seat was *warm*, which wouldn't be weird if not for the fact that **I live alone**, not to mention it was the middle of December. I looked at what I thought was the same toilet, in that same bathroom, in that same house, and for a second I thought maybe I was crazy. I slowly put the lid down, and that's when the toilet opened it's eyes and glared at me. \"Were you just about to shit in my mouth? The FUCK, man?\" it snapped in a deep voice with an unmistakable Bostonian accent, it's lid opening and shutting as it spoke. I remember feeling another warmth, a much bulkier one, in my rear before I fainted.",
"The heat woke me up rather quickly. It was startling to be precise. \n\nThe contrast was overwhelming between my cold feet, still resting on the frigid bathroom floor, and the warmth being experienced by my bottom on this now abnormal throne.\n\nBut it couldn't be... \n\nI lived alone, no dogs or cats and certainly no other human capable of pre-heating this oven. \n\nSuddenly a knock on the bathroom door.\n\n''Come in'' I said, still seated on the oval office. A short man walked in, suspenders too large for his small frame, boots much to large for his childish feet and a stained ball cap floating atop his brow. I recognized him. Fear struck into my heart. It was him again. Just like last week and the week before!\n\n''GO AWAY!! STOP COMING BACK!'' I shouted as fear turned to anger.\n\nThe short man took a step back, then a small step forward as he said: ''Is ya not pleased with the seat under ya? Warm ain't it?''\n\nI couldn't take it any longer. First the fridge. Sure I could now cool my food and things preserved for much longer and at first I was pretty darn happy. Eventually though, after the microwave and the surround sound system, I just couldn't take it anymore. Now the heated toilet seat!\n\n''STOP INSTALLING THINGS IN MY HOUSE!! GO AWAY!!''\n\nThe short man, hesitated. \n\n''You sirs have a light that be broken in your kitchen, I'll go--''\n\n''LEAVE!!'' I interrupted.\n\nThen a silence...\n\n\n\n''I'm sorry.'' I whispered silently as the short man left, head bowed to the ground, a single tear falling from his distraught face."
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[WP] Paint a Word Picture: Where is the one place you (or a character of your choice) always feel safe?
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"The air is crisp and clean, I feel the light bite of it against my cheeks. The sky is clear, and although behind me my cousins are playing loudly I feel peacefully alone looking over the lake. The dock shifts ever so slightly as the water softly laps against the rocks at shore. Creating a sound like dull metals constantly clanging the the background. The canoe is bouncing off the dock matching my heart beat, this is all there is. As my eyes leave the soft and lush wisps of clouds they travel to the trees. My soul soars as I take in the colours before me, vibrant reds, passionate reds. The forest is on fire, and it has never looked more alive. My eyes continue to lower until I am facing my own reflection. Soft and distorted in the motions of the water. Hair the colour of honey hanging to my waist and blowing wildly in the wind, eyes as grey as the sky before a storm, lips as red as the trees swaying around me. The body is young and small, she is still a child. Seventeen. In a moment she is gone.\n\n\nI turn around comforted by the fact that I am surrounded by the earth. Behind me she sits, and always will. My father is calling my name and I go to help with some mundane task of little importance. When I finish I play with my small cousins, but every now and again I look across the water and stop to stare at the beauty of Fall. \n\nMy camp.",
"It’s funny how much shit gets fixed when you turn the lights off. Or maybe it’s more like how much shit doesn’t really need fixing anymore. Me and Jay used to take apart this little ping pong table in his mom’s basement and put the plywood halves over the windows. We’d seal them up with blankets and tape sometimes, and it would be totally black. \n\nAnd then pretty much the place didn’t look like shit anymore. It still smelled, but, you know. I would sit on the giant floral couch and Jay would lie on his bed in the corner and we would just talk. All night, because the concept of night didn’t mean anything after we blacked out all the lights. We were just fucking typical high school kids with complexes about our parents and their divorces, and when the hell we were going to lose our virginities. And there was this elephant in the room-- Jay won it at a fair for making a bunch of three-pointers in a row. I used to think about what a shitty joke it was, the elephant in there with us, because we never talked about how he liked me, and how I might have liked him. \n\nAnyway it was a non-issue when the lights were out. Nobody was glancing at my chest. No one was judging me, or assigning me a number to represent my fuckability. I wasn’t the hot girl or the slut or the whatever; I was just this floating voice in the room with Jay’s floating voice, and the elephant. And when I was sixteen that was pretty much the only place I felt safe.",
"The familiar scent of gasoline lined my grandpa's garage. He walked with me, talking all about his latest crazy program or car he fixed up. People look at me like I'm crazy when I tell them my favorite scent is gasoline.\n\nMy grandpa showed my his ancient computer, barely even a calculator by today's standards. He showed me his games he made, some of the first 2D games ever. I would stare in wonder at the low hum of the monitor that displayed the muffeled green tiles and letters.\n\nWe would go upstairs and eat the pepparkakor, traditional Swedish cookies, my grandma had been baking. With a smile stretching from dimple to dimple I dived into the cookies and sat down at their table. My grandpa took out his custom made board games. He wrote the rules, he made the pieces, and they are the best games I've ever played. I would laugh along as my grandpa would backstab my grandma to make trades with me. He would shoot me a wink and than ask with a smile if I wanted to go on a wheel-barrow ride.\n\nIt's been 15 years. Grandpa is dead. My parents are divorced. But when I walk back into that house, smell the gasoline, and talk with my grandma, I feel as though it's all alright again. Like Grandpa is there, and he's laughing along with us."
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[WP] In 2033, a large billboard reads: 'They would burn down the sky if we allowed it.' What is this message referring to?
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"The wind rustled through the ashes of something greater then now, long burned away in the belief of greater world bursting fourth from its soot.\n\nThe star Sol would set on a lifeless day, the sole Moon, Luna, would rise on a unmoving night.\n\n“From the ashes, we will be reborn!” a faded metal sign read, a picture of a genderless being bursting fourth from charred remains bezeled into the metal beside it.\n\nI feel great sorrow and guilt for the memory of humankind. \n\nThey had limitless potential, and a willingness to mature, they did not deserve to be destroyed, even if they often tried to do it themselves.\n\nAdmittedly, humanity put up one hell of a fight, after learning their mother earth was doome, they decided to take their murderers with them.\n\nI had reached this small world just a cosmic moment too late, but I had just enough time too see its glory before it was gone.\n\nI remember standing on a hill, looking down at small family laying in the tall grass, looking up at the sky for the last time. In the distance, a glowing board displaying the words “They would burn down the sky if we allowed it!” began to flicker, then fade away.\n\nI saw the father point to a white shape in the sky, and the laughter of their child. I could see, even at my great distance, the light of fear and sadness in both parents eyes, they knew there sealed fate, but they chose not to poison the innocence of their offspring.\n\nThen, in an instant, the sky lit brighter then it ever had before, and suddenly there was only flame, only heat, fire, and ash. In an instant, the humans had glassed their whole world, refusing to go out on anybodies terms but their own, the humans had turned the keepers of peace into the harbingers of revenge.\n\nThe flames danced and swayed for years to come, consuming everything that set this world apart from its lifeless kin.\n\nI still hear that child’s laugh echo through this barren world."
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Just remember that they are demons, not angels.
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[WP]Hell literally broke loose. All the demons are free, and they only want one thing : to befriend us.
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"With a flash of light and heat, a massive creature of inexplicable definition pushed it's magnificent scale into my kitchen, splintering wood, melting metal, and nauseating me with the acrid stench of sulfur and brimstone. I sputtered and, with a cry, flung myself pathetically over my chair onto the floor, taking my bowl of cheerios with me. As I cowered on the floor, struggling to parse the unbelievable stream of information pounding my mortal, sleep-addled brain, I felt fluid pooling around my legs, and was unsure whether it was my spilled milk and cereal or I had pissed myself. And, as chunks of insulation and wood clattered to the floor, I heard it speak:\n\n\"Oh shit. Oh shit, dude! My bad, dude!\"\n\nCautiously, I peered my head over the ruin of my overturned dinner table, expecting some strange death to take me before I could behold the monumental form crouching over the glowing basin it had blasted in my floor with it's sudden arrival. It was massive - even crouching, it's back scraped the jagged wreckage of the ceiling. It's rippling muscles were robed in leathery crimson flesh drenched with minute black spikes that bristled like quills. \n\n\"Jesus-fuckin'-Christ, what is this?\" I coughed, dusting myself off as I stood from behind the table.\n\nThe creature waggled a finger at me accusingly.\n\n\"Hey, I know I just busted up your spot, but you shouldn't swear like that, dude!\" \n\nI grunted, surprised at the creature's scolding. \n\n\"No way,\" I sighed, rubbing the little remaining sleepiness out of my eyes, \"This can't be real. What are you, some kind of demon?\"\n\nIt nodded excitedly, and I noticed with a jolt that it had glowing plumes of fire for eyes.\n\n\"Yeah, man! Just like David Grohl in The Pick of Destiny!\" then, noticing the look of confusion on my face, added, \"Look it up!\"\n\n*Well, that answers... something,* I thought, rubbing my chin. Looking over the demon's shoulder, I noticed the blasted debris of my coffee maker splattered across the remnants of my counter, and sighed.\n\n\"So, uh... what is it that you want?\" \n\nThe demon shrugged, and shifted uncomfortably. I saw a wall stud digging into it's side and, meekly, realized that it could probably smash the thing into splinters with little effort.\n\n\"Just to hang out, you know?\" \n\n\"You're kidding,\" I sighed, kicking my cereal bowl across the floor, \"You fuckin' wrecked my pad.\"\n\n\"I know, man,\" the demon hung it's head, \"Look, I'm sorry though. I totally understand if you want me to dip. I can make it up to you, though.\"\n\nI cocked my eyebrow.\n\n\"Do I have to sell my soul?\"\n\n\"Nah, dude! Here, check it out!\"\n\nWith a low rumble and an explosive release of eviscerating earth, a glowing crevasse of flame-scorched yawned open before the demon like the maw of some ancient hellspawn. A swarm of chittering bats rushed past me as a chorus of a thousand screaming souls vaulted obsidian-boned skeletons drenched with magma from the Pit, producing, with a flourish, an ornate chest bedecked in glittering gems and shining gold. In a fluid motion that belied his cramped position next to my fridge, the demon flung open the lid, revealing a mountain of gold coins that flashed and dazzled in the morning light, emblazoned each with the image of a grinning skull. \n\nIt was fucking metal.\n\nI stood with my mouth open for some time, enchanted by the incalculable wealth before me. When I finally recaptured my composure, the demon was uneasily shuffling onto it's feet. \n\n\"Hey, uh,\" I trailed off, \"Be... Be careful out there. Also, thanks?\"\n\n\"Oh yeah, no sweat! I'll hit you back a beer sometime, alright? Later!\" \n\nThe demon squatted on it's hooved legs and, unfurling it's tattered wings, leapt through my roof with a deafening crunch, sending bits of drywall and dust into the air like a storm. He was gone when I lowered my arm, along with half my house, leaving me alone with a fortune in gold and no cereal.",
"Hell is not the place to go if you want to make friends. People condemned to hell tend not to be the kindest souls you will ever encounter. It does get rather lonely. Conversations usually are shared complaints. The smell, the heat, the bugs crawling into your skin, all anyone ever does is complain. There is no such thing as common fucking courtesy.\n \"Hi! How are you today, Judas?\" \n\"Oh I am fantastic thank you for asking!\" THAT would make hell at least one hundred times more tolerable. \n\nSorry I forgot introductions. My name is Twyla. I am a demon. But, I am really not as bad as everyone thinks I am. Sure sometimes I possess people but I never want to hurt them. It's just my job to temporarily take over their bodily functions. Well anyway, a few days ago by apocalypse or happy accident, I was literally (along with the other demons) sprung free from hell. Earth is magnificent. I understand more why the condemned complain all of the time. Earth has everything! You could walk up to a magic, brightly lit container, put in plastic or paper and be rewarded with the most delicious morsels in the world. There is this thing called \"Her sheys\" and I am pretty sure it is what heaven tastes like. People dress themselves inside of giant buildings for fun! Then when they become bored they simply hop in multi-colored transportation vessels that take them wherever they want. Humans are quite clever actually. They can even control the temperature of their environments. They are quite friendly too. This one kind man in a tunnel gave me a free bag of a \"pot\". He told me to smoke it. He didn't talk to me after I breathed fire onto the bag. Apparently humans can't spit fire through their mouths, noses, ears, or even eyes. \n\nI look like them too! I always thought my yellow hair was odd but where I am, I have relized it is quite common. Some men even comment on my exceptional ordinary look by whistling. They do not take it as an equal compliment when you whistle back. Other females act irritated by such interaction. I am still researching this anomaly. People keep beasts on leashes or in clothes resembling their own. I have learned that when you see one of these beast owning people it is not polite to offer to cook their beast for them. They like them raw I think. \n\nEarth is amazing. The apocalypse is not nearly as bad as everyone thought it would be. It seems like the only thing the humans are noticing is the increase in outdoor temperature. As interesting as they are, people are rather unobservant. They are also rather odd. They eat a lot of complicated meals only to complain about how much they ate. I have learned it is custom to order something you announce to everyone else that you, \"definitely should NOT get.\" Their form of exchange is strange. Humans try to obtain more paper so they can spend it on actual tangible goods. Yet, it is not the goods that is the goal it is the paper. I wish I was at one time a human like the rest of them. Everything seems so amazing. I have made at least thirty two friends since my arrival. If you give them the paper they like then these people will be so hospitable and welcoming. I have never felt happier. All of their \"creature comforts\" are fit for Satan himself. I hope I never have to go back. God must have really loved these humans to give them all of these wonderful things. For once I wish I was on the other side. I can't wait to make more friends. One gentleman told me if I take off all of my clothes and make milkshakes all of the males in my area will come to my yard!\n",
"“So how is it?”\n\nThe imp looked at me expectantly. His big eyes gazing up at me filled with hope.\n\n“It's...” I searched for a way to say uncooked hamburger without sounding disappointed.\n\n“It's not exactly how you prepare this type of meat.” The 2 foot tall demon with his overly large head, saucer eyes, hooves, ram's horns, and pointed tail looked crestfallen. Great tears welled in his eyes and sizzled away leaving the scent of the sulfur pit the demons had started emerging from all over the world.\n\n“No no no, don't cry!” I was gripped in a panic, Steve's downturns in mood always attracted insects and rotted things. I had spent last night attempting to pander to the pitiful demon and keep him from spoiling what was left of my PowerBars and Raisin Bran in the cupboards. I made mental note to pick up a sieve for the rice and thanked god the fridge offered some protection. Well... it had before Steve figured out doors.\n\n“It's just this is cow, you cook cow, you probably meant to make Sushi which is raw fish. Honest mistake, anyone that had never met a mammal before wouldn't know.” The demons we all had learned weren't actually demons. They were the first sentient beings that had fled into the Earth's crust after what they described as every volcano simultaneously erupting. The dinosaurs were suppose to let them know when it was safe to come out. They dinosaurs had apparently decided better of it. I could sympathize.\n\n“I'll make you fish tomorrow then!” Steve's moods were easy to turn around, and what many had assumed were mystical qualities were in fact subconsciously driven symbiotic events that drew out local carrion animals, insects and bacteria to counteract their destructive physiology. In a high oxygen environment primarily inhabited by super flora the demons had literally cultivated the earliest life. Fungi and plant life around the demons changed rapidly and insects were drawn to imperceptible sounds and vibrations they emitted beyond the scope of our senses. They were like individual volcanic calderas super driving plant growth and adaptations through rapid life cycles. \n\nUnfortunately for me I worked for a major pharmaceutical company as a Pharmer. I had been blissfully indifferent to the appearance of the demons, until their biology had destroyed billions of dollars in patented R&D. Overnight the leading GMOs producers went into a panic. I had been plucked out of my lab and made to work with a lawyer to legalese a stop-gap measure through congress that claimed our parent company had created the proverbial vestigial tail present in the super crops currently exploding all over the world. Sure some of what we had done was still there, but little Steve's had emerged all over and now the end of the anthropocene had come and the beginning of (or return to) the Daemocene was upon us.\n\nSteve hovered around my ankles his smile revealing his sharkish grin and his tail writhed happily. I had taken the hamburger and added it to a skillet to make sloppy joe meat, the smell of browning hamburger caused Steve to drool. This made him excited which of course caused my house plants to flower. This sent me into a fit of pollen fueled sneezes and spasms because my god damned hermetically sealed home didn't have house plants until Steve had decided to follow me home from the lab. \n\n\nSteve ate the majority of the sloppy Joe meat straight from the still hot pan while my stomach churned antihistamines and water. I silently wished for a one man rapture to take me away while I wondered what other people that didn't live with a demon were doing. Probably watching TV and delighting in the antics of the demons from afar. I missed TV. The first night in my house a Discovery Channel special on alligators sent Steve into a fit of rage and he destroyed my television. Apparently he had some residual animosity towards reptiles.\n\nToo miserable to eat I popped some sleeping pills and lay under a thermal blanket facing the wall. Upholstery and cloth didn't do well around demons. Neither did wood. My bed frame was now a nurse log to a new species of fern that was miserably sappy. As well as cactusy, which I'd stopped trying to make sense of. I was just happy the plants that sprang into existence in my home so far were not totally lethal. Yet... QED.\n\nSteve *of course* sat nearby and stared at me intently making little sounds of fidgeting while I drifted off to a drug addled sleep. Drowsy thoughts floated through my mind as I tried to ignore the little demons perversely happy existence and incessant nearness. I was glad to be leaving him to cultivate my backyard tomorrow while I got some actual work done in the lab. Very exciting work... the government nuts and corporate security guys could monitor Steve for a day. From a distance, through their hidden cameras. Lucky bastards...\n\n***\n\n“Do you like it?”\n\nSteve had rushed to the door to present me with the plate of fish. Magnificent specimens mostly intact glistened and shed scales as they slid about the plate. My prized Koi... I'd completely forgotten about them because they were mechanically fed. Steve hadn't been able to wait for me to get home and had taken a few bites out of them...\n\n“I. Love. It.” The respirator and goggles helped sell the lie and hide my tears.\n\nSteve beamed at me and handed me one of the fish and then walked away while chewing absentmindedly on Ariel. Holding my dead fish in my armpit I stared up at my now mossy ceiling and debated leaving. But all over the world scientists like myself knew how screwed we all were. Even if we contained and quarantined the little demons our GMOs were expanding out of control. They were resistant to poison, insects, and now humans. Machetes, flame throwers, it didn't matter. Threshing machines warped their blades trying to process our evolved strands. The applications for the new plants would be exciting if they weren't choking out towns, roads, and impervious to consumption. We were losing our food. Without Steve's help and my know how the world was completely and utterly doomed.\n\n“Are you going to eat that?” Steve tugged on my rubber waders. I let Sebastian fall from my armpit and splat on the ground.\n\n“Nah Steve.” I stared down at the cause and solution to the worlds problems. Covered in fish gore.",
"\"OH MY GOD! Stan the Demons are loose!\"\nScreamed Debbie, \"What?! What more could they want from us?!\" She said crying at this point.\n\"What's going on, Deborah?\" Stan asked. Then there was a loud thumping at the door.\n\"Oh God! They're here! Why meeee?\" She cried.\nStan went over and opened the door. \"Hey, do you want some chile con carné? We have some leftover from din..\"\n\"Why don't you just leave us alone?\" Deborah screamed in the most exasperated voice.\n\"Dammit Deborah, they're just trying to be kind neighbors; wouldya shut up,\" responded Stan as he accepted the doff from the Hoffmanns. A very twisted looking couple, but you could see the love in their eyes.\"Thank you very much, sorry about how Debbie's acting right now.\"\n\"Oh it's no worry; we don't take offense,\" the two said in a perfect sync with a goosebumpingly deep voice. \"Hope you have a safe night.\"\n",
"“Stop hugging people,” I shouted, clenching my fists. “You’re setting them all on fire!” \n\nThe demon, Snoopy as I’d named him, hung his floppy-eared head in shame and dropped his latest smoldering victim at my feet. “Sorry.” \n\nI rolled my eyes. “You’ve killed five people in three hours. How many times do I need to tell you this? No one wants to hug a demon!” \n\n“But I’m just so happy to see you,” the demon said, scratching his blackened chest with a three inch claw. “We just want to be your friends.” \n\nScreams echoed from the alley behind my house. Gunfire rang out across the city, most of the buildings engulfed in flames. Black smoke billowed in the sky, obscuring the stars. “I get that, Snoopy, I really do. But come on, look around!” I gestured to the city. “This isn’t working. You have to go back to Hell!” \n\nA demon lumbered into the middle of the street, traffic swerving around him. He caught the back of a truck loaded with pumpkins. The front of the truck pitched up, pumpkins rolling into the demon and bursting into flame. The truck landed with a loud bang, and the driver emerged with a young girl in his arms. The demon uttered a cry of joy, lifting its arms. For some reason, its face reminded me of Barney, the Purple Dinosaur. The driver screamed in response and ran, the demon in pursuit. \n\n“God damn it,” I muttered, pressing my fingers to the bridge of my nose. “This has to stop.” \n\n“But I thought we were going somewhere fun. You said you wanted me to meet your boss.” \n\nI lowered my hand. “Right. After that, it has to stop.”\n",
"A demon is a burned thing, wreathed in smoke with embers perpetually falling from its tattered wings. The night sky is filled with the light of angels' burning wings, but the demons down here with us seem to be made of little more than ash. There is a pathos to them; a sentiment completely alien to the stern, proud beings above. \n\nIt - and it was 'it', the demon had corrected me repeatedly when I used gendered pronouns - called itself Bel Kaleph Azad, an orphan of the eastern star, whatever that meant. It was an emissary of the Fallen Council, here to make peace with 'the Children' as both sides seemed to call us. I had asked it once, in a stupor, if it was a servant of Satan, and the demon said I should not speak ill of the dead. \n\nThe peace was not fruitful for either side. Where the demons came in friendship, the angels followed in wrath. The day an accord was signed at the UN opening diplomatic relations with Hell, the heavens had opened and poured out their scorn. \n\nOne third of the global population was annihilated by a merciless horde with blazing wings and skin like ice. The light of their souls was harsh and blinding, and among their hosts were strange choirs of living weapons and terrors from a fever dream. They were much more fearsome than the frail and dirty hosts of Hell, and much more cruel. It was no wonder they'd won the war.\n\nBel Kaleph Azad came to me some months later, in the smoking ruins of my church, wounded and looking for a dark place to die. I had taken refuge in the church cellar, more in desperation than in faith. The debris around me was proof enough that nothing built by a man was sacred to Heaven. Other people had long ago decided to spurn places they thought the angels might dwell. Many had thought that faith might save them, in the early days. I always was lucky.\n\nI still wore my collar then, and the demon had been fearful of me, but was quick to trust when it was clear I meant it no harm. That trust soon turned to friendship, of a kind I thought had faded from this desperate world. That friendship was a source of nourishment to it, and over long whispered conversations, whatever celestial wound had brought it creeping to me seemed to diminish. \n\nIt is beyond my wisdom to divine the age of angels and demons. As far as I know, the demon had existed since the beginning of time, and would have continued to its end, had it not chosen my brief life over its own. Whether the angel that smote him down came across us by chance or design, I do not know, but there can be only one outcome when an angel finds a demon. Yet Bel Kaleph Azad did not flee, nor hide, as it could much better than any mortal man. It did the kindest thing it could - it tried to kill me.\n\nAngels do not regard us much. We are an opportunity for sin and punishment, no more than a duty waiting to be performed. That terrible light which shone into my cellar would as likely have destroyed me as not, even without a trace of the demonic taint. But the rescue of a pious soul under assault from a demon is the closest they can come to benevolence, and the only way my friend knew my life could be spared. \n\nI didn't understand it at the time. As I opened my eyes and saw the result of a confusing instant of pain and darkness and blinding light, I very nearly threw away what it had made such a tremendous sacrifice to preserve. I saw that towering celestial inferno standing with the burning edge of its sword buried in the collapsing ash pile that had been my friend, and I cried out in grief. I crawled toward it and reached out my hand to touch it. \n\nThe angel did not hesitate. They are ever vigilant for our sin and weakness. The sword arced toward me, and in that instant I was grateful. I was happy to be removed from this ruined earth and maybe, just maybe reunited with my lost friend. As much as I was afraid, as I wanted to hate, I loved the angel for the swiftness of its mercy.\n\nAnd when that angel's blade touched my loving heart, it screamed and faded into nothing.\n\nAs I sat alone in the merciful darkness, some things Bel Kaleph Azad had told me began to make a kind of sense. The angels hate us, but not for our sins or our dalliance with demons. The angels hate us, and fear us, for our love. \n\nIt is a force they cannot understand, as creatures of cold power and hard duty. It is something the demons hoped to discover, coming to us meekly and in desperation after an epoch of languishing in exile, learning the lesson of their fall. It is why my friend forsook eternity to give an old man a scant few years more life. It is what the angels were willing to burn the world in order to keep from the denizens of Hell. \n\nAnd it is how we can defeat them.",
"This started going... and going... and going. I just couldn't stop. I don't have time to write anymore today, so I'm just going to post what I have for the time being, but I'll post a followup later, if anyone cares.\n\n**The Torn Summer**\n\nGlover wasn’t particularly frightened on that day in July. More than a year had since passed and a calmer, more rational mood had befallen the country. That first year was an agonizing exercise in how much ignorant bullshit Glover could withstand. His best friend for the four years leading up to “The Torn Summer” had been a fellow by the name of Marco. It was a Wednesday in June when Marco C Reddy revealed to Glover his name was in fact a kind of an anagram. Camroc The Redoubtable he was called back home. Glover laughed at Marco for half an hour through their comforting glugs of Yuengling from frosted glass mugs. The two sat in a booth inside a bar, empty, save for the old timer behind the counter.\n\n“Camroc The Redoubtable, you say?”\n\n“It’s as stupid to me as it sounds to you, but yes, we have formalities where I’m from.”\n\n“Uh huh, and what was that place called again?”\n\n“The Trench.”\n\n“Camroc The Redoutbale coming straight out of The Trench. Hell, that’s far more intimidating than Ice Cube coming straight out of Compton. But the question remains, are you a crazy motherfucker?“ Glover chuckled as he spoke. \n\nMarco didn’t laugh along with him. \n\n“Ok, ok I can see you’re trying to be serious, so where is The Trench located, exactly?”\n\n“Nowhere near here. Not really even within the confines of the Universe. It’s kind of difficult to explain to someone whose consciousness is held within the limited perspective of the human brain. It’s where you go when you die, if you were not one of the special chosen few drafted for the pious military in the sky… or at least that’s what I call it.”\n\n“So, hell then. You come from hell.”\n\n“If you like.”\n\n“You’re a demon.”\n\n“I am.”\n\n“Is this some kind of… I mean are you playing with me in some strange way I don’t understand or have you actually gone batshit insane?” Glover said.\n\nMarco looked to his left from the booth. The old bartender behind the counter had his arms stretched up. Wine glasses hung from the ceiling on a rack and he wiped the dust from their rims with a dry rag. He wore a large white cowboy hat and whistled to himself.\n\n“He’s tired, wouldn’t you say, had about enough?” said Marco.\n\n“Um, I suppose.”\n\nMarco snapped his fingers and the bartender lowered his arms. He stood staring straight ahead towards the kitchen. A drop of blood trickled from his nose and ran down his red flannel button-up shirt. \n\n“Homma-sai. Homma-sai. Krah cah sala-bah. Sala-bah. Coheev konte.” The bartender spoke loudly, some gibberish Glover didn’t understand. \n\nThe bartender reached for the half-full bottle of Bacardi 151 and poured it over himself, the liquor pooled in the dips of his hat, ran over and covered his body. He pulled a box of matches from his pocket, struck one, and then spoke one final time. \n\n“For you, my beast. For you.”\n\nWith that, he dropped the lit match onto his hat and burned silently behind the bar, not screaming, not writhing in agony. After a moment his body collapsed and became a pile on the tile floor behind the bar. Marco hadn’t watched. He merely sat silently, drinking his beer, texting on his cell phone. Glover had sat mostly in shock, watching as the whole thing unfolded. He had tried a few times to move from his seat and stop the bartender, put him out, but the lower half of his body was completely immobilized. It felt as though he were fused to the chair, a sewn in human cushion.\n\n“Now, I know what you’re thinking.” Said Marco.\n\nGlover barely heard the words. He turned his gaze back to the demon sitting across from him. He still looked human, nonchalant. \n\n“You, you know what?”\n\n“I know what you’re thinking, or, well, I think I know what you’re thinking. I haven’t actually checked.” \n\n“Oh, ok, well then what am I thinking?”\n\n“You’re thinking that was a little harsh. I could have tried something else to prove my powers to you. Maybe made something float, or teleported us to another place, something like that.” \n\n“Yeah, no, that’s not at all what I was thinking, actually.”\n\n“Damnit. Ok, well, what was it then?”\n\n“I was thinking, wow, that’s the first time I’ve ever seen someone set themselves on fire. That was pretty horrifying. I’m not sure if I want to live anymore. I’m thinking of running away, of calling the police, of calling a psychiatrist, of shooting myself in the head. I’m thinking of a lot of things. Now, though, yes, I’m thinking also what you said.”\n\nMarco took a big gulp of his beer, and then began talking as he crossed the empty bar to refill his glass. \n\n“Well, you’re not crazy, and there’s no point in calling the police, I’d just disappear and they’d think you did it. I could even manipulate the video in here to show that being the exact case, but I have no real desire to do that. Rather, I like you a lot, you’re my friend. I’m actually not that bad of a guy, believe it or not. Evil, yes, but bad and evil are two different things. I can’t really help being evil. Evil is a force so great it can’t really even be explained, and I am spawned directly from it. I can’t change being evil any more than you can change being of Irish descent. But I don’t think being inherently evil really makes me that bad of a guy. I don’t do evil deeds unless they’re absolutely necessary, case in point, proving to you that I’m not insane or lying.” Marco stepped over the still smoldering pile of ashes behind the bar and walked over to the tap. He put his glass under the Yuengling handle and then paused. \n\n“Nope.” He said. Then he reached in the mini-freezer right beneath the tap and grabbed a brand new frosted mug. He nodded approvingly and then filled his glass, then continued on his explanation.\n\n“Anyway, to answer your question, or rather, the question I suggested you should be asking, I did what I did because: A. It couldn’t really be construed as trickery. Someone lights themselves on fire, that’s not really a trick, it’s just fucked up, but objectively provable and fairly permanent. B. My abilities can really only be used for evil, so, sorry, but I couldn’t just produce an adorable kitten out of thin air; a bloodthirsty, ravenous, rabid dog of hell, perhaps, but nothing cute and cuddly, nothing you’d want to see. C. Don’t worry, he didn’t feel anything, I saw to that. His soul will be reincarnated sometime within the next three years. He had no family. He was miserable. I picked this place for a reason.” Marco had made his way back to the booth and sat down.\n\n“Sorry, I would have gotten you one, but you’re still half full.” Marco said, taking another huge gulp of beer. \n\nThat night had served as a warning for Glover. Marco went on to explain the fabric keeping The Trench suspended far from the world of the living would be severed the following month, and so it was. The United States had declared it a national emergency. Demons and other dark creatures were coming out of a hole in the middle of the Arizona desert at an alarming rate, most of them just curious to explore a new place. “The Torn Summer” it had been called. Glover watched as people all across the country were cowering in fear. Church congregations were barring themselves inside their respective sacred buildings, mass suicides were organized, the world had generally worked itself up into a frenzy. The age old debate of whether or not the afterlife existed had been solved, and it had turned out, no one had really gotten it right, and everyone was kind of pissed. \n\nMarco and Glover spent most of that chaotic first year at Glovers apartment, watching the news and laughing at the entire situation. The situation had calmed, though, as demons were more and more showing their value to the world.\n",
"\"What's this do?\" the Hellspawn asked fiddling with my radio, his horns protruding from my Geo as it listed heavily to the right. Damn near riding on the rims. His cigar smoke made the air in the vehicle toxic to breath.\r\rI sighed deeply, rubbing my forehead at the stop light. \"Don't touch my Goddamned radio,\" his face drooped has he began to fiddle with his claws. He sat silently for a moment staring out the window, picking his nose.\r\r\"Where we going?\" the red behemoth asked again, as he now began to drum his hands on the dashboard.\r\r\"I'm going to work,\" I sighed again, beginning to roll the car forward. \"I told you this before you insisted on coming, I told you couldn't come,\" I said as my voice began to rise this time.\r\r\"Oh, so we can hangout?\"\r\r\"No for the hundredth time.\" Again, disappointment ran across his face as his shoulders dropped. \"Well what ya wanna do when your off?\" \r\r\"*Im* going to my girlfriends, I dont know what you're doing, stop playing with the windows!\" \r\r\"What if I'm really quiet? I'll sit in the corner and keep to myself, I promise this time,\" the hooved beast said in the most convincing voice he could muster. \r\r\"I said no, look I'm at work, I'm going now,\" I said. Hoping he would receive the hint to leave my car.\r\r\"That's ok, I'll wait here!\" he said with a smile, and began to play with his phone. I sighed and shut the door as I stumbled to my workplace. \r\r\r\r\r\r\rYay my highest rated writing prompt. "
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[WP] You're walking down the street and bump shoulders with someone. It's you.
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[
"I stared at the girl in front of me. We both looked at each other in shock. She looked just like me, but... sickly. \n\n\"You... you look just like me. Who are you?\" I begin to ask. The girl's face lights up.\n\n\"I've been looking everywhere for you! It's so good to see you!\" She pulled me into a weak hug, which I tried to shrug out of.\n\n\"I'm sorry, who are you, again?\" I asked. The girl's face became extremely serious, which made her thin skin become even more noticeable. \n\n\"Mom and dad never told you? I'm... your twin! My name is Vivian! And you're Veronica! We were separated at birth because mom and dad could't afford to raise us both, so I ended up in an orphanage. Life hasn't been easy, but seeing you, it just makes everything better.\" her weak smile was filled with sincerity. I was shocked that I could've had a sister, nevertheless a twin! Mom and dad did struggle for money when I was growing up, so it kind of made sense, but something wasn't right. They would've told me, wouldn't they? \n\n\"I'm sorry, this is just... a bit shocking. How about we just exchange numbers and ease into this? Maybe go and meet up every know and then. I really want to talk to my parents...\" I slowly started to back up, but the sickly girl grabbed my arm with an alarming amount of strength. \n\n\"I... don't have a phone. Or any money. Or much time left. Why don't we go to your house and I can say hi to mom and dad? They're the ones that contacted me and told me about you! I've been looking everywhere for you!\" She smiled again, this time showing her teeth which had become almost yellow. \n\n\"How about we-\"\n\n\"-Sis, how could you do this to me?\" the girl began to cry, \"After all the time i've spent looking for you. Day in and day out, searching, and now you won't even help me?\". Tears began to stream down her face. \n\n\"No no no. Look, I'm sorry. My car is right over here, so let's just... get going, shall we?\" I said hesitantly. The girl sniffed and nodded slightly. We walked back to my car, and climbed inside. The street lights started to flick on along the road as dusk settled in. I hated driving at dusk, as it was kind of hard to see and headlights didn't help much. The ride back to my house was extremely quiet and awkward. I mentally punched myself in the face during the ride, regretting leaving the coffee shop early. The girl began to slightly chuckle to herself.\n\n\"Uh... is everything okay? We're almost home. We live in the kind of rural part of town-\" I was cut off by her scream as she reached across the console to grab the steering wheel, veering the car off the road and straight into a small ditch. Time slowed down as the air bags deployed, knocking me unconscious. \n\n~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\n\nEverything was fuzzy as I woke up in what looked like the forest by my house. I tried lifting my head up, but my temple began to pulsate, giving me a terrible headache. \n\n\"Vi.... Vivian...\" I weakly called out. I looked as far right as I could, which increased my headache, but I saw nothing. The sky had a light blue tinge to it, yet the visibility was still extremely low. I decided I would have to get up and get help, so I slowly rolled onto my right side.\n\n\"Oh no sis, don't get up. You'll only make things worse\". I looked up and saw the girl, standing over me with a horrible smile. I continued my attempt to get up, but the girl kicked me, causing my head to buzz with such an intensity that I almost passed out. The girl lowered herself next to me, and began to giggle like a five year old. Another voice rang out,\n\n\"I'm here. Now let's get out of here before the cops show up. I can hear them coming down the road. \" The voice was rough, and terrifying. \n\n\"Pick her up. I'll explain to her what's going on the way to the car\". I weakly opened my eyes to see a large man step toward me and scoop me up. My head buzzed and dots began to form at the top of my vision.\n\n\"S...stop\" I weakly cried. Terror pumped through my veins as we all headed deeper into the woods.\n\n\"Don't worry sis, it'll all be over soon. Once I knew you were out there, I looked everywhere for you. I'm so far low on the transplant list, I thought I'd never get the organs I needed. Then I met Butch here, a black market surgeon, who was willing to perform a surgery if I found an organ donor. And so I found a donor. Right here. I'm so happy my sister is willing to give her life so I can live on. Thank you so much sis.\" The girl continued to giggle. Her giggles were the last thing I ever heard.",
"\"Woah, are you me?\" I asked, feeling more stupid than confused as the words came out.\n\n\"I think so,\" he said. He seemed as perplexed as me, understandably.\n\n\"Weird,\" I said.\n\n\"Yeah,\" he said.\n\nI pulled out my phone and scrolled through the apps.\n\n\"Add me on snapchat?\" I asked. It seemed like a reasonable request, given the situation.\n\n\"Uh, sure,\" he answered. \"My name's 'jakemcawful', all one word.\"\n\nMy fingers froze in place. I gave a weak laugh, and curled my left hand into a trembling fist.\n\n\"That's funny,\" I said. \"My snapchat name is 'jakemcawesome', all one word.\"\n\nAnd that's how I met my evil twin.",
"\"What the fuck?\"\n\n\"What the fuck?\"\n\n\"Are you me?\"\n\n\"Yeah... I am.\"\n\n\"How is that possible?\"\n\n\"I-I dunno.\"\n\n\"Is this like, a Doctor Who episode or something?\"\n\n\"I dunno, I never watched that show.\"\n\n*me and clone point fingers at each other* \"ayyyyy\"\n\n\"So you know what this means, right?\"\n\n\"We can finally do those TF2 combos you see the good players doing?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\nThe end",
"Bump. I crashed into somebody, I kept my head low, whispering an apology, and she did the same. I was nudged by my sister, and she whispered to to me that she looked just like me, even sounded like me!\n\n\"Huh, what?\" We both turn to glance at each other. It was awkward greeting me, but neither of us have the social experience.\n\n\"Hi me, lost your job too?\"\n\n\"Yeah, I couldn't handle it.\"\n\n\"What are you going to do now?\"\n\n\"I don't know, I feel so lost.\"\n\n\"Me too.\"\n\nWe shook hands, but then it dawned to me.\n\n\"Are you with my boyfriend?\"\n\n\"Yes, he adorable isn't he?\"\n\nFinally something we agree on- Wait. The direction she was walking was from... My house.\n\n\"Did you fuck, my boyfriend?\"\n\n\"H- He is my boyfriend after all-\"\n\nWe both knew what was going to happen. Let the cat fight commence!\nMy sister tried to get us to back off, but we both cast her aside.\n\nWe may be shut ins, but we have tempers that refuse to die. We pulled at eachothers hair, and ripped at eachothers identical clothes.\n\nJust then, our boyfriend came out to the poach and saw what was going on.\n\n\"Relax baby! I don't mind that there is two of you!\"\n\nWe glanced at eachother and let go. Maybe this will not be so bad after all.\n\n\"I'll give him a back rub.\"\n\n\"I'll make dinner.\"",
"\"Excuse me.\"\n\nTwo words never hit me so hard. I'd responded before I could finish processing. Before we turned around, I knew we'd both stopped.\n\nThere he was.\n\nMe.\n\n\"What... What's going on?\"\n\n\"I...nothin?\"\n\n\"No, I meant...Never mind. This is pretty neat, huh? We're thinking the same thing? You look just like me.\"\n\n\"Bro, YOU look just like ME.\"\n\n\"Fine, fine. I mean, what do we do, right? This is so exciting!\"\n\n\"I guess...keyswap?\"\n\n\"Oh, bro. Keyswap. Keyswap so fuckin' hard.\"\n\nHis keys felt light in my hand. He drove a Lexus. I hope my Hyundai handled okay for him. His GPS took me to his house. It sat on top of a hill overlooking the city. I'd never been to this part of town before. Never had the money.\n\nHis wife was waiting in the kitchen. The food smelled delicious. It tasted even better. I could tell she wasn't used to being listened to. It's too bad I hardly heard a word. I just couldn't stop staring; she was gorgeous. Great in bed, too.\n\nWe met again the next day. Same spot. Same shoulder bump.\n\n\"Trade back?\"\n\n\"Meh. Could go either way.\"\n\nSo we did.",
"Tuesdays are always shitty, divisional meeting presentation first thing, weekly review with my boss straight after and taco day at the work canteen. I fucking hate work tacos as much as I love good tacos. This particular Tuesday was proving to be even more shitty than usual as I was running late and as I stepped off the bus, I realised that I was wearing odd shoes. Standing in front of all my colleagues and managers I was now going to be in one brown and one black shoe. Fuuuuuck. \n\nI hurried down the street, checking my phone just in case some miracle had happened and the meeting had been cancelled. I *hate* people who walk down the street staring at their phone and so as soon as I bumped the guy I went into full apology mode. \n\n\"I am so sorry, I wasn't looking and I...\" I trailed off. He was older and kinda tired looking but there was no mistaking that I was looking at myself. It took him a second longer than me, but it registered on his face and he went from surprise to confusion and swiftly to panic. He held up a finger as if he was going to say something and then turned and fled. \n\nOf all the reactions I could have expected, this was not among them and so it took a few seconds to work out what had happened and then a second more to decide what to do, so by the time I started after him he was a good 30 metres ahead of me and went skidding round a corner. \n\nI sprinted as fast as I could, following him round the corner and then across a road and down onto the cycle path next to the canal. It was typical of me to try this, for some reason I had always thought that in an emergency I would miraculously turn into some sort of superhuman runner, necessity providing me with better lungs and legs. As had been proven at Kaitlyn Scott's sweet sixteen, this was not true. \n\nHe was definitely older than me and his fitness was even worse than mine, just a minute later he finally had to stop running and I was right behind him by then. I grabbed his collar to keep him from going anywhere, but for several minutes we stood there silently, gasping for breath, spots swimming in my eyes and my breakfast trying to make an unexpected reappearance. \n\nFinally I caught my breath and pushed him back against the brick wall, holding him firmly to stop him trying to escape. \"What the fuck is going on, you're me aren't you?\" \n\nHe was still out of breath but nodded and held up a finger to ask for a moment. He clearly was in no shape to run, so I let him go and he doubled over for a moment to recover. \n\nHe was still puffing slightly as he started to talk \"Okay, running was not smart, I've just always thought that in an emergency...\" \n\nI interrupted \"Yeah I *know*, in an emergency we'd run like the wind and be uncatchable.\" \n\nHe looked me up and down \"To be fair you were pretty fucking fast back there.\" \n\nA sliver of pride shot through me \"Yes, thank you, but you're avoiding the question, why are you here, what is going on? When the fuck is time travel invented?\" \n\nHe shifted uncomfortably \"Those are all *really* against the rules to answer.\" He leaned in closer and his voice dropped to a whisper. \"Even talking to you could get me, us, in *big* trouble.\" \n\n\"Bit fucking late for that right? And it's not like you don't know where I work; not exactly hiding now, were you?\" I shoved him a little to show dominance. He's casualness was irritating. \"Answer the fucking questions.\" \n\n\"Yeah, no.\" I waited but he didn't go on. \n\n\"So, let me get this straight.\" I rubbed my brow, trying to get my head straight. \"I meet my future self.\" He nodded. \"He runs away.\" He nodded. \"I catch him and he refuses to answer any questions.\" He nodded. \"So what the fuck am I supposed to do now?\" \n\n\"Let me go?\" His voice was hopeful. \n\n\"This was a bad enough day already\" I quietly muttered to myself. \n\n\"Wait, is it a Tuesday?\" For the first time his voice contained something other than evasiveness - pity. \n\n\"Yes it's a fucking Tuesday.\" Like this asshole couldn't have worked it out. \n\n\"Dude, I am so sorry to make this a worse day for you.\" He looked down and winced. \"Oooh, this isn't a good day today. I wish I could help somehow but, you know, I really can't change anything.\" \n\nI looked more closely at him. \"Take your fucking shoes off.\" \n"
] | 6 |
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[WP] A group of archaeologists unearth a box covered in writing that, when translated, warns of dire consequences should it ever be opened. However, curiosity is a powerful force...
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[
"One archaeologist slowly opens up the box just a crack, only to reveal the most unexpected. He.....got......Rick Rolled. Since the box was unable to hold an equipped system with electricity to play \"Never gonna give you up,\" it just ends up being Rick Astley's decapitated head. After the box was uncovered, Rick opened his mouth, and wasted no time serenading the archaeologists with his classic number one hit. They burst into laughter talking about how they haven't been Rick Rolled in years! After the session was finished, the group had a little conversation with Rick, talking about the music industry and many other drugs. Then it was time for Rick to be placed into his box again, for if kept out too long, his luscious ginger skin would peel like an over-ripened dry banana. Shortly after, the archaeologists disbanded and went home.",
"\"To put it simply, the box says it contains the world's end.\" \n\nThe researchers and their intern fell silent, looking at the tiny sealed box in the translator's hand with renewed interest. \"Who wants to be cursed first?\" he joked, putting the box down on his desk with a smile. \n\n\"Surely it's just a superstitious bluff from an ancient culture, Dr. Tesley?\" the student intern asked, never taking her eyes off the box. \n\n\"Actually, it's not very old at all. That makes it all the more curious,\" the head of the expedition replied, stepping forward to pick up the box and examining it under the light of the desk lamp. \"We should have it x-rayed before opening it.\"\n\nA groan went around the room. \"Come on, Jan. We're all here now. We finally find something good and you want to send it away before we get first crack at it?\"\n\nDr. Tesley hesitated, turning the box over in her hands and examining the characters around the side. Dreams of a big discovery played at the edges of her decision, weakening her resolve. Besides, what person had ever seen a \"Do not open\" sign and obeyed? \n\n\"Okay, let's take a quick peak,\" she said, smiling back as everyone whooped with excitement. Taking a seat beside the translator, she got to work breaking the seal. After a few minutes a small pop broke the silence and everyone scrunched closer to get a better look.\n\n\"What is it? What's in there?\"\n\nShe pried off the lid and looked inside. Poking a gloved finger into the corners to be sure, she finally said, \"It's empty.\"\n\n\"And here I thought we'd be dead by morning,\" the translator chuckled, getting up from his chair and stretching. \n\nShe was wrong. \n\nHe was right. \n\nDr. Tesley coughed. "
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What do they really look like? Beautiful and angelic, or dark and demonic? What do you do now?
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[WP] Your significant other is the most beautiful and amazing person you've ever met. One night while you're together they admit to being a fallen angel, one of the angels who rebelled alongside Lucifer in the War in Heaven, and prove it by showing you their true form.
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[
"\"Bethany, I swear to god... I mean, never mind. The point is that I love you. The first thing I noticed about you was your heart. It was full of hatred and grief. I just-\"\n\n\"It doesn't matter now, Charlie. Just go away! You changed me. I was in a dark place when we met, but you helped me get better. Go find someone else... someone who's just as worthless as I was before we met!\"\n\n\"But all I wanted to say was that you changed me. I was also in a dark place. I had been kicked to the curb by my father, a goes who was supposed to love me no matter what. All I wanted was to be mortal. All I wanted was for it all to just stop, but when I met you, I saw someone who is going to hell. I saw someone who needed a guardian angel to change her life.\"\n\n\"Great, so I needed am angel and got a fallen one, one of the evil, deceitful ex-angels. Thanks, but I want to go back to the drinking.\"\n\nHe tried to embrace her, but she turned and left. Knowing that she would never listen on purpose, he waited to go back to the apartment until four in the morning, when she would be fast asleep. He flew through the open window and found her asleep in bed. He whispered softly \"I'm sorry, Beth. When I changed your life, you changed mine. All I needed was to see the positive impact I could have to make me quit my evil ways.\" She smiled a little and rolled over. He laid down next to her and said \"do you want to be immortal with me?\" This time, she opened her eyes and turned toward him, whispering \"If it's not too much trouble.\"",
"\"What just happened...My life had changed within the past hour.\" Drew closed his eyes and rewound the day to when it happened. \"Two hours ago..I was picking you up, you said 10 minutes and took 30. One and a half hours ago..we went to our favorite spot in downtown for some ramen. You took your time sipping the steaming bowl, sip after sip like tea, while I watch you. Silent drive home. You looking at the tall city buildings illuminating your soft pale skin. How.. How did we end up here like this?\" \n\n\"I..I don't know what to say anymore.. I told you everything and now we don't have time. He's coming for me.\" Said the woman as she consoles her boyfriend's knees while she's crouched down trying to look at his face. His face was covered by his hands and his elbows fused with his thighs. She rocks them back and forth trying to get something out of him. He pulls his hands down enough where his eyes meets this beautiful woman. Her hair is all over her face, pasted on by her tears. \n\n\"Drewboo, please let's just go. Anywhere but here, I can't stay here.\" She starts to sound agitated and starts to feel like moving him is useless. She bites her lower left lip and stands up. \n\n\"I have to go now Drewboo, I told you the truth.. And you still don't believe me. This says something about our relationship and future.\"\n\n\"FUTURE, Denise?!\" She was pushed aback by his sudden reaction. \"You're the one that hid this..this whole --I don't even know what to call this and now you expect me to leave everything to run away from God of all people. GOD! Yea, the one that everyone prays to, the one that created this world, or whatever the church goers believe.\" \n\n\"See, you don't believe in him, why are you being so stubborn? Everyone exists. Buddha, God, Zeus..everyone. You're just a mortal, you don't know these people like we do. They're like us, bad gods do good things and good gods do bad things.\"\n\nDrew made an angry and confusing face and questioned \"But you're the bad guy, you followed Lucifer. Lucifer! You know I'm fucking scared of The exorcist, why would you follow him. Oh and the icing on the cake, you're his right hand demon. Probably his sex toy, how was he huh? I bet he's crazy in bed huh, demonic sex how's that like? I don't even know you, shit, I'm fucking scared of what you did to me, did you take my soul--you..you succubus!\"\n\n\"Is that what you think of me?\" Her voice trembled, and her head down. Her silky black hair shined in their bedroom light. The lights began to shine brighter and brighter until sparks flew out and bursted. A slick bearded man in a suit appeared behind her, grabbed her neck and pinned her down to her knees. Her head still in the motionless position. \n\n\"Thanks son, I've been looking for her. See Denise? I listen to my children\" The suited man petted her hair then combed her long hair with his fingers. He laughed and mocked Drew's prayer \"Oh god what do I do, she's a demon, what do I do? Yes I heard it all, that's how I found you so easily. You know how many rooms there are in this forsaken building? You know how many heathens live here, it's like a cluster fuck of shit.\"\n\nDrew, as confused as he was from the start finally mustered enough courage to talk. \"A..are you--\"\n\n\"God, yes.\" Stating in a monotone voice while looking around Drew's bedroom. \"This is a nice place, nothing like Heaven but eh, the economy right? He snickered.\n\n\"Any last words to your demon girlfriend?\"\n\nDrew looked at this woman dressed in his favorite red dress, wearing red nail polish, all the while not being able to see her face, defenseless and unable to move, thinks for a bit. \n\n\"You played me..what was your plan with me? With my soul? Do I still have it?!\" \n\n\"...\" The woman was silent.\n\nThe suited man stopped playing with her hair, grabbed her head up with a full fist, and showed Drew her face. \n\nHis heart dropped. The girls had a face of defeat. Her eyes swollen with tears, her lips closed so hard that they wouldn't stop trembling. She couldn't talk, every breath she took, her body twitched, every exhale harder than the next. She pulled up her chin, took a gulp,of what may be her last breath still shaking, and finally said \"I'll always love you drewb--\"\n\nThe lights flickered and Drew was back on the edge of his bed. Hands covering his face. Elbows fused to his thighs in the empty room.\n\n\n",
"She stood there covering herself with her hands. Although we have been together many times, this is the first where she was embarrassed of her body. Her skin was cracked, scarred, and brittle. I thought she was going to turn to dusk in any minute. She hangs her head in shame, her eyes, dark as the ocean, not meeting mine. I take it all in. Her tattered wings, the signs that she was once graceful. All of which is in ruin now. After a moment she speaks. Not with her voice, but one that is ancient, and tortured. \n\n\"This is why I can't marry you, Eric.\" When she said my name, my heart fluttered. I still have no words for her though. Without looking she continues, \"It's not just the immortal part about watching you die, but your soul as well. If we were to be bound though marriage, you will go to hell. All I could do is watch you be tortured for eternity. I just can't let that happen. I love you. After a millennium of existence I love you. Not one person has captured my heart as much as you. Please understand that. Because of that love, I cannot marry you.\"\nI am still on my knee, Ring in hand. After a pause, I reply,\n\n\"Lisa, I too have scoured the world for love. I have crossed oceans,\" My skin begins to give way. I begin to feel pain for the first time. \"I have rode with Mongolian hordes,\" My skin cracks, and my skin begins to lose its tone, Turning into a stony cracked surface. \" and I have never met someone as wonderful, and genuine as you. I mean that after a millennium of searching.\" My eyes, once a brilliant light shade of blue begin to turn dark. My wings, now fully emerged, begin to burn. The feathers falling in ash to the apartment floor. \"If it is a crime against God to have true love, then I hereby abandon and betray this God. I have now found someone I love more than He. Lisa, will you take my hand in marriage, and suffer in torment for eternity together?\" I feel blood seeping from the cuts. I can feel His eyes on me. Lisa is horrified. I begin to shake, barely holding up my weight among the pain. Is this what it felt like then too? And I fall to the ground, Lisa swept me up at an unholy speed. Together we sit in silence. After a moment, Lisa picks up the ring and puts in on her finger. ",
"I'd met Apollo at a mutual friend's party several years ago. He was handsome and charming and way out of my league, but while we were drinking and talking and I asked him if Apollo was actually his name. He grinned and told me his dad was a Greek buff with a sense of humor. He was neither tall nor short, with platinum blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. His face was well-defined and gorgeous. I could tell that he was perfectly toned in his tight shirt and jeans. An apollo indeed.\n\nWe spent the rest of the night talking, and I was instantly enamored. He was perfection embodied. His voice made my toes curl when he spoke, and when he turned his smouldering eyes on me I felt helpless. The way he drew me to him was almost otherworldly. Dare I say, he was divine. We danced together that night and with his arms around me I felt fire in my body.\n\n\"Can I... see you again?\" I asked as the party drew to a close. A grin spread across his face and he handed me a card with his number on it.\n\n\"I'd like that,\" he responded. Dating him was a whirlwind of romance. The first time we kissed my body was on fire with need. I didn't know a kiss could do that. He knew every trick in the book and on occasion I couldn't help but think he was playing me. But whenever the thought crossed my mind, he'd sweep me off my feet again with a kiss or a gift or a romantic date.\n\nThe first time I said \"I love you,\" we were curled up on the couch together, eating take out and watching tv on my couch. I couldn't help it, it slipped out of my mouth, but I didn't regret it for an instant. He was silent for a long moment, and I felt my heart drop a little. My mind instantly went to all my negatives - how could I have possibly snagged my own Apollo? I wasn't particularly attractive or talented or interesting. He put his food down, cupped my face in his hand, and kissed me, slow and sensual. I melted into his touch as I always did.\n\nHe leaned in so his lips were right by my ear and whispered, \"I think I love you too.\" I pushed him against the couch, kissing every inch of skin I had access to, my hands looking to roam his body. He responded in kind, our kisses furious with want. I began unbuttoning his shirt then pushed it off him, revealing a myriad of silvered scars. I pulled away and traced them lightly with my fingertips. He grabbed my wrists.\n\n\"Where did these come from?\" I asked. He sighed, mood broken.\n\n\"I need to tell you something.\" I leaned back and my hands slid from his grip. My heart sank again and I waited apprehensively for him to tell me he was leaving, or I was an other woman, or he had some sort of incurable STI.\n\n\"My name isn't really Apollo.\" He shifted and his eyes met mine. \"It's short for Apollyon.\"\n\n\"A nickname,\" I said, breathing a sigh of relief, wondering why he made it sound so grave. A surprised laugh escaped his lips.\n\n\"I can't say I'm surprised you don't recognize the name I took for myself here,\" he laughed, but quickly sobered. \"Apollyon is still Greek, but it means destruction. My name is Lucifer, the morning star, the angel of light. My scars are from the wars in Elysion.\" I laughed, thinking it a joke.\n\n\"Then I will become a satanist and worship you, for you are the only deity I need,\" I grinned wickedly at him.\n\n\"Oh what delightful blasphemy,\" he laughed as I moved back in to kiss the delicious skin at his throat.\n\n\"Should I be worried you'll trick me, oh father of lies?\" I said, voice low as my lips pressed against his skin.\n\n\"I was cast out of Heaven by God for rebelling,\" he said. \"With free will at my fingertips, and you in front of me, I gain nothing more by lying.\" He lightly pushed me away from him so he could meet my eyes again. \"That's why I never take you to my place. I don't think the fiery pits of hell make for a good date night.\" He laughed. I was still skeptical. \"I'll show you.\" He stood, and wearing nothing but pants he looked glorious. But then great white wings sprouted from his back and all I could do was sit there with my mouth agape.\n\n\"I wouldn't lie to you,\" he said, folding his wings behind him.\n\n\"Hail Satan,\" I finally muttered, startling a laugh out of both of us. He knelt in front of me, his wings moving to enclose us in our own little world. I reached out and touched them, my fingers brushing the downy feathers there. He waited.\n\nI pulled him in for a kiss. What else could I do? I was agnostic before, and now that I had my proof, the side I wanted to choose was already there in front of me for the taking.",
"I looked at her in disbelief.\n\n\"Really?\" I finally said, \"You're a angel?\"\n\nAbby nodded, her red hair bouncing slightly. \"You don't seem that surprised.\"\n\n\"Why should I be?\" I shrugged. \"I always knew you were an angel for dating me.\" \n\nNormally, my quip would have brought a chuckle or smile to her face. Not today. \n\n\"Please, I need you to be serious,\" she said, reaching out to grab my hand, \"I love you, and... I'm scared about what's going to happen because of that.\"\n\nThat drew me up short. In the six months that we had been dating, Abby had never said that before. I always knew that she cared about me, she had never been shy about showing me that she did, but the L word? No, she had never used it. \n\nNow she stood in front of me, holding my hands, with a set expression on her face. It was not an expression I had ever seen before, and I realized what it was: genuine fear. I had seen this women jump out of an airplane for our first date, and all she had done was grin as fell backward out the door. She's feed lions by hand at a zoo, swum with sharks, faced down everything with nothing more than that same smile that I had come to love. \n\nNow she was telling me that she was an actual angel. And was frightened about admitting it. \n\nSeveral questions ran through my mind, as I started to actually process this information, so many I didn't know what to ask first. Thankfully, my mouth decided for me.\n\n\"If you're an angel, why aren't you in heaven?\"\n\nHere she winced slightly before drawing in a deep breath.\n\n\"I'm not from heaven.\"\n\nFor another moment, I just stared at her before my brain held up a card. \n\n\"Oh. Ohhh. Oh,\" was all I said. Brilliant, huh? Again, my mouth was way ahead of anything else.\n\n\"Then, what are you doing here?\"\n\nShe gripped my hands a little tighter and said, \"Every so often, we are... I guess released is the best word, but that's not quite right either. The point is, we are allowed to come to Earth and live human lives. It's sort of like an exchange program.\"\n\n\"Wait, so when does that mean you have to go back?\" I asked quickly. The thought that she might have to up and leave suddenly popped up, and I was suddenly terrified. I didn't want her to go. \n\nShe smiled softly, like she read my mind. She knew me well enough that she might as well have. \"I still have plenty of time. It might be temporary by our standards, but it still lasts a full lifetime. As long as I keep eating my leafy greens and lay off the white cake, I should be good. \n\n\"Oh, that's good,\" I said. Those words utterly failed to convey my relief that I wouldn't lose her so soon. Then, another thought came up. \"Hey, does this mean I have to start watching my back?\"\n\nShe raised an eyebrow at me. \"I mean, are a team of angel supercommando's going to kick down my door in the middle of the night and kidnap me, or anything like that?\"\n\nShe smiled. \"Not if I have anything to say about it.\" She leaned in and kissed me. After pulling back, the smile faded from her face. \"I, um, was wondering if, maybe, I could,...show you?\"\n\nI looked at her blankly. \n\n\"You know, what I really look like?\" I could see that same scared expression creep back onto her face. At that moment, I knew that there would only be one answer I could give, or even want to give.\n\nI nodded once. \n\nAbby to a deep breath and... I guess *shift* is the only word that really works. Nothing changed. But everything changed.\n\nHer eyes were still the same bottle green, her nose that dainty, delicate thing, her hair still that fiery red that had first attracted me to her. The growth of an enormous pair of raven wings were certainly different, but for some reason it didn't feel like the first time I had seen them. In my head I wondered if it was just the first time I had actually *looked* at them.\n\nThe rest of her body didn't change either. It was still the attractive, athletic body that had been the second thing that had drawn me to her (I'm still just a guy after all).\n\nBut what changed the most was the skin around her mouth. Everywhere else I looked, it was the same fair complexion, but around her mouth... It looked like someone had tried to brush her teeth with a blow torch. \n\nHer lips were cracked and blackened, pulled back from her teeth into an almost smile that would have had me shitting my pants if I didn't know her. The same was true for the skin on her chin and cheeks. Under some of the cracks, a distant red light shone through, like looking at a fire reflected around a corner in a dark cave. \n\nIt was about that moment when I noticed her hands felt different. Frowning, I looked down at them. I blinked and looked again. Just like her face, the skin was badly burned with that same light through the cracks. On her right hand, her pinkie and ring finger had been fused together, forming a single malformed digit. \n\nI looked up, straight into her eyes. They were still filled filled with that same fear. This time, I was the one that leaned in and kissed first. When I pulled back, I saw tears forming at the corner of her eyes. I pretended not to see them. Regardless of how vulnerable she was now, she'd still kick my ass if I called attention to them. Made that mistake when we watched Old Yeller together once. Once.\n\n\"What happened,\" was all I asked instead. \n\nShe blinked, forcing the tears back down. \"It was right after the war, and Dad,\"\n\n\"Wait,\" I interrupted, \"I thought you said your parents died in... Oh, right, I guess they weren't really your parents. Were they?\" I could only imagine what the expression on my face looked like as I took a swim through the Sea of Awkward.\n\nAbby just snorted, a smile teasing at her lips. She had shifted back to her \"human\" appearance. \"No, that was just a story I told you. No, Dad, well he's not my actual father, but given what he did, I don't think I'd ever feel comfortable calling him anything else. Anyway, it was just after Dad and the rest of us had lost the war. We all ended up in Hell, and Dad was, well...\"\n\n\"What a minute,\" I said, \"Is Dad Lucifer?!?\" Sometimes I amaze myself with how quick I can be on the uptake.\n\nAbby smirked and shook her head. \"And here I thought one of the reasons I fell for you was because of your brain. Yes, my dad is Lucifer. Not by birth, more like... adoption, I guess. Anyway,\" she shot me a look that showed how much she'd tolerate another interruption, \"he was really depressed. Like, extremely. Here, he'd gone and fought for all of us, and then most of us just go off and join the other side. And you, I mean, humans, had just gotten punished for the fact that you had free will. Dad, I think, loved you even more than he loved us. The way he tells it, you were just so *curious* and he just kept on encouraging it. He was so happy for you whenever you made one of those first steps. You should have seen him when you discovered fire.\" She stopped to smile again. \"You'd have thought that he was a parent bragging about their child's acceptance into Harvard.\"\n\nThe smile faded from her face. \"But then, after the war... He just fell apart. For a while, he tried to keep it up for the rest of us, but then one day... he just wandered off.\" She shivered. \"There is a place that's... beyond is the only word that works, Hell. He just headed for it one day and none of us could stop him. It's a cold place, empty, with nothing that could sustain even an angel. When he left, none of us knew what to do at first. Then we came up with an idea. That's how this happened.\" She held up her hands. \"We ate from the Fire of Hell.\" She flinched at the memory.\n\n\"It was the only thing that could keep us going out in the cold. When we found him, he was half dead. I was one of the those that carried some of the Fire with us, and was able to use it to bring him back, and.. You know what, why don't I let him tell you the story?\"\n\n\"Huh?\" I asked, bewildered.\n\nShe chuckled at me. \"Don't you think it's time you actually met my parents?\"\n\nI looked off in the distance, trying to wrap my head around this. \"I... I guess so.\"\n\nHer smile got wider. \"Good.\" She stood up. \"I'll start packing.\"\n\n",
"I took a long pull of my beer and smirked. \"A fallen Angel, Avi? I'm not that drunk yet.\" He sat across the table from me, his caramel eyes watching me with far too much intensity for comfort, and I took an extra swallow of the IPA. \n\n\"What if it were true, Rachel?\" I couldn't quite read his expression, but there was no mirth in it. I put my beer back down on the table. I folded my arms, and leaned across towards him.\n\n\"What if what if you were a demon, Avi?\" I tried not to make my laugh come out as too mocking, in the face of his serious attitude. It didn't work. I barked out a sharp cackle. \"Well then I imagine I'd be fucked, wouldn't I? Damned to hell?\" \n\nHe smiled, that same smile that always made me feel warm and sparkly and special, and I squirmed on my stool. His charming grin turned a little sad, and when he spoke again, his eyes turned slightly sad.\n\n\"What do you think hell is, Rach?\" He seemed to see through me, to somewhere dark and cold. I felt my eyebrows furrow.\n\n\"What is this, Avi?\" My voice sounded strange to my own ears. This wasn't normal. Avi was my best friend, the one person I never needed to lie to. He was a skeptic, and a scholar. He questioned everything, everyone, every motive. He didn't believe in gods or ghosts or woo. He didn't believe in demons. This was not Avi. He had dropped his gaze to the table, and was sliding his own beer across the slick surface, dragging wet rings of condensation into spirals.\n\n\"I'm tired, Rachel.\" He told the condensation. \"I'm tired of lying. I've lied for so many centuries, to so many people. I've lied because it's just fucking easier. I don't want to take the easy road with you. I want to give you everything I have, and that means giving you the truth.\" He lifted his eyes back to me, and in them, this time, I saw the pleading. And the fear. \"Will you trust me, just for tonight? Will you let me tell you the truth?\" My body felt far away and numb, but my head was nodding somewhere in that numbness. My fingers tightened on the cold, sweaty glass of my beer bottle. My lips were moving.\n\n\"For now.\" My voice was too cold, and far too empty, but the relief that suffused his features filled me with a sort of cinnamon, tingling calm that made me decide whatever price I was about to pay was worth it. He reached one of his long-fingered hands to take my own, a shy smile that was utterly alien on his confident features twitching into place. \n\n\"Thank you for that.\" He whispered as his fingers tightened around mine. His touch was a thrill of molten heat, too warm, too close, too electric. The same as it always was. This was what it felt like to have your very soul caressed. I felt my eyelids flutter briefly at the sensation, and when I opened them...something had gone wrong. \n\nI stood, with the fingers of one hand twisted around the fingers of my lover, and half a cold beer dangling from two fingers of the other hand, in...Hell. My skin had gone cold. The terrible, bitter cold of a day so frigid that breath never even became vapor before freezing grabbed my lungs. Fire lit just beneath my skin. My limbs became an electric, twitching field of flame. The heat and the cold went to war in the space between my skin and the layers of flesh beneath. I didn't quite scream at that. Grey stretched beyond us for unbroken eternity in all directions. The sky was a wall of bitter, bleak storm clouds the color of slate that only seemed to move when you weren't looking at them. The ground, from our feet to the horizon was an endless, stark plain of tossed black gravel and bleached, broken bones. There was nothing else. No funny rock shaped like a chimney, no lighter patch of sky or earth. Nothing grew. Nothing lived. Nothing died. The horizon was a pale smear among an ocean pale smears, and that was as close to a landmark as I had. I took a step away from Avi, and my foot sunk into the earth. His grip steadied me, and I realized the ground wasn't solid. It was a soup of bones and dirt and an oily black gunk. Unbidden, some part of my brain suggested that R2 should shut down all the garbage mashers on the detention level. I was clinging to Avi's arm like some girl on the cover of a romance novel, and I made myself stop, and regain my own feet. \n\n\"Avi-\" I started to growl, and then my glare landed on my boyfriend. Only...not. The creature whose fingers I had intertwined in my own was Not. His flesh was white. Not white like milk, or like sheets in a tide commercial, or white like a ghost. This was the sort of white they talk about in the bible. The sort of white that redefines the term. It seemed to almost luminesce. But it had broken. God, had it broken. It was as if the delicate porcelain of his flesh had been thrown against a wall that was made of nightmares. Fissures of stark, hateful black shattered what would have otherwise been creamy perfection. The white of his skin was veined, demolished at the joints and utterly gone in patches, with pure night. And no, night was as inadequate a term for the blackness that thrummed from Avi's very core as white was poor parlance for the remnants of his skin. The cracks were the black of the parts of space where there are no stars. They were the ebony of pure emptiness.\n\nHis eyes sat in pools of that blackness, little lights like a pair of ancient, dying red stars. When I met those eyes, I felt hope drain out of my body and into the bone soup at our feet. I was looking at eyes that had *seen* stars die. Just seeing gave me Knowledge, and as in that moment, I Knew. I Knew I was mortal, so, so mortal. I Knew how frail my pitiful little body was, how brief my sad, pointless existence was. I knew I was a shitty little mammal on a shitty little rock orbiting a shitty little sun in a shitty little spiral galaxy... And I Knew I would spend eternity in this eternity of grey nothing. I Knew I did not know what eternity meant. I knew my \"boyfriend\" Knew what eternity meant. He had Seen eternity. And now my pale, pitiful mortal eyes had Seen Him. \n\nI realized I was kneeling at Avi's feet, that I was weeping, and that I couldn't stop either, only when Avi spoke. \n\n\"Rachel, Daughter of Miriam, Rise. You need not lament, for you are righteous. Rise.\" His words echoed through the earth, through the air, through my very core. I rose. I don't think I wanted to, but I don't think I could have done otherwise.\n\n\"Please.\" I groaned, and my voice didn't sound like mine. It belonged to a creeping, kneeling mammal that begged only for a brief cessation of suffering. Those red eyes bored into me. His hand, his broken, twisted hand, leaking the tar of the abyss, caressed my cheek.\n\n\"Rachel, Daughter of Miriam, Blessed Among Women, Beloved of the Cursed, Weep no more. For He that Is, and Them that Are have looked upon you, and you have looked upon Oblivion. Granted unto you is Discernment.\" Avi intoned. I thought of the Quasimodo in the Hunchback of Notre Dame, ringing great bells from about 10 feet beneath their booming mouths. I suddenly empathized. \n\n\"What the fuck are you?\" I gasped. Maybe I sobbed. At the very least, I made an undignified slurpy begging sound. Avi, a pillar of alabaster glory riven by utter darkness, offered me an apologetic smile. He cupped my face in his glorious, hideous hands, and then slowly slid his palms up to cover my ears.\n\n\"I am Aviel, Aviel, who was the Son of God, who followed the Lucifer, the Morningstar, even unto the Abyss.\" When he spoke his name, his Name, Lucifer's Name, the sound was a physical thing. A brief, detached, part of my mind that was still capable of real thought realized that the wetness dripping down my neck was probably blood from my ears. \n\n\"We...\" I gasped, sucking air into my burning lungs in shuddering gasps. \"Really....\" Avi gave me a heartbroken, hopeful smile \"Need to....\" He bowed his head so that his forehead, his filthy, immaculate skin touched my own clammy flesh...god, had he always been so warm? Had I ever felt this warm? \"Talk....\" I finished. I couldn't remember how I had started that sentence. Aviel, Who Was the Son of God, Aviel, Who Was my Fucking Boyfriend, favored me with a smile that contained the collisions of galaxies. \n\n\"Yes, Beloved. We do.\" He said. And I realized that I would listen to whatever he had to say. I would follow him. I would follow him as he followed the Morningstar. I would follow that light.\n\n\nSomewhere, in the depths of his knowing smile, a star died. ",
"My hands moved in a fury, \"No! NO! That cannot be true!\" I screamed in sign language at her. I couldn't believe that all those years we spent together meant nothing to her. She just admitted to me that she wasn't really a human but someone who fought at Lucifer's side.\n\nWe were walking along the park beside the Arkansas River in Little Rock and then she stopped me. She had something to admit to me and she just did.\n\n\"Honey, I'm so sorry. You were so right when you told me that I looked like an angel when we first met. Do you remember this?\" She asked in sign language and I hesitated. It was true that I did say that when we first met. I was walking down the street after I just got out of the taxi cab. Then there she was. I had to say hello to her and get to know her a bit more. Then she looked at me. I smiled. She smiled. The traffic of the pedestrians was all a blur. The shadows of the clouds passed over us so rapidly as we gazed at each other. I signed hello to her as we walked to each other. Then the ray of the sunshine shone upon her as she answered back in sign language. I couldn't really believe that this beautiful creature could be able to sign. Then I said, \"Wow, you really look like an angel.\" She just smiled and say \"I know.\"\n\n\"Steve?\" She woke me up from this wonderful flashback. And I looked down to her feet and I couldn't really believe how perfect our last couple of years has been. Everything about her seemed so perfect. She seemed to understand my flaws so well. Shoot, she didn't even care about my flaws at all and always said I'm perfect. She was so complete understanding of my humanity and I never wondered why. Just thought she was the most incredible partner that one man could ever ask for.\n\nAnd now I know why.\n\nI looked back up to her eyes and then suddenly, I noticed the aura around her just as like she is glowing of the sunshine. I asked, \"What's going on?\"\n\n\"Steve, you finally fell in love with me and I am finally free of this terrible curse. You didn't fall in love with me because of just my beauty. You had changed me so much. You changed the way I thought of heaven and hell. And I cannot really believe it that you had also made me see the way the world is being different than it was centuries ago. All of those children at the hospital loves you even when they are dying. They always adored you as they spent the last moments here on earth.\" I could feel my heart cracking.\n\nThen she became very brightened that I could not really make out her signs and she asked her last question. \"Would you like to be able to hear again?\" was something that appeared in my mind as it was a second consciousness that entered my mind. I couldn't really explain how this happened because I have never heard a sound in my entire life and I wasn't sure if it was this sound I am hearing or somehow it is a telepathy ability of hers.\n\nThen I signed, \"No.\" I knew that my deafness was always a curse but it was always a blessing. I could change the world and a girl's heart just because I am deaf and I would not let it be taken away.\n\nThen the night was all dark and quiet again. It was a long but happy walk back to my apartment.",
"The first time that I met Sam, he just strolled up to me and said, “What’s the worst that can happen?”\n \nI was thinking about asking a guy I like out, but I was honestly terrified; things with my ex didn’t end… amicably, and I was afraid something similar would happen again.\n \nSam continued, like I wasn’t standing there, gawping with my mouth open at his beauty. “He could say no. If he says no, you know you can move on. If he says yes, you can try something. If it doesn’t work, then you’ll at least *know* that it won’t work. You won’t be guessing.” He smiled at me, kindly, and then walked away.\n \nI asked the guy out the next time I saw him. He said yes. We dated a few times, realized that there wasn’t much there except mutual horniness, and decided to be friends instead. Six years later, we’re like brother and sister.\n \nThe next time I saw Sam (six months later), I asked him his name, and asked if he wanted to have a cup of coffee with me. He wondered why I was asking him out for. I told him, “What’s the worst that can happen?”\n \nWe dated. We had a crazy, wild, awesome time that I cherish. We loved. We love. We moved in together, live together, and everything was amazing, and awesome.\n \nUntil I found out I was pregnant. I was joyous about it; and I told him in an enthusiastic bout of verbal diarrhea that we were to be parents. My first clue was when his face turned pasty-white, and he started fidgeting. My second clue was when he told me I shouldn’t keep the baby, and that if we wanted children, we should adopt.\n \n“Why?”\n \n“The baby will kill you.”\n \n“Wait, what?”\n \n“Can we chalk it up to intuition and call it a day?”\n \n“No. Why do you think that?”\n \nHe took a deep breath then told me of his history. His *real* history. I started to laugh.\n \n“You do realize I’m an atheist.” I said, between laughter. “You’ll need to come up with something better than that.”\n \nHe touched my forehead, and I saw it all. I saw the God that ordered the angels to love humanity above all, but then killed millions. The God that gave mankind free will then punished them for exercising it. The God that punished Sam and his garrison for daring to say “No” to contradictory orders. You see, to the victors goes the history. The God-Squad won the war in heaven. Lucifer, Sam, and the other Souls of Solomon fought to keep Michael from carrying out one particular order: tempt the humans, get them to sin, and then put them in Perdition. Humans were set up to fail. Lucifer saw this, and said he would have no part in it. They failed. Michael entered the garden in the guise of a snake using the Lightbringer’s name, and successfully temped Eve. Lucifer offered to take her place in hell. God ordered those who sided with Lucifer cast out.\n \nAt that moment, I saw Sammael, instead of Sam, and I loved him. His six wings, along with most of his skin, were burned almost beyond recognition. Scars from lashings, stab wounds, and slashes marred his skin. He was beautiful.\n \nBut I will not murder my own child, on a chance it would kill me. I told Sam we would seek out others like him, and hear their stories.\n \nWe did. Each time, either the mother or the baby died. I asked him which he would prefer—to have a wife, or to have a child. He said a wife. He feared God would kill the child, as he did the other Nephilim.\n \nI got a C-section three days before my due date. The child was stillborn.\n \nI’m no longer an atheist. To quote Riddick, I absolutely believe in God. And I absolutely hate the fucker."
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How did you do it? What did you say? What did you do?
And for creativity's sake, alien doesn't necessarily have to mean extra-terrestrial. They can be extra-dimensional, they can be Lovecraftian horrors, they can be supernatural beings from a different plane of reality.
Have fun!
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[WP] An alien force is preparing to attack earth and you're the first human they meet in person. You successfully convince them not to invade.
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[
"I was miserable, it wasn't that Amy turned me down, it was how she did it.\n\n*\"You are too high minded...too intellectual. I couldn't hold a candle up to you. I don't want to be jealous of every college-read gal you meet in your offices or in your libraries and such\"*\n\nAll true. None of it plausible. She was my moon shot, the prettiest gal in town. Miss Keefee 2012 and 2011. A girl who wrenched my heart out of my rib cage like she was a Mortal Kombat character, then left it beating haplessly on the floor of Ricky's Grille....oozing life and necrotizing in despair.\n\nFive cans of cheap beer dulled the edge of what had transpired. Above the starry sky gleamed with the light of a few hundred stars, the presence of many more muted by the lights of the town behind me. Fuck it, I thought, it's off to Ag and Mech for a Masters degree. 300 miles of separation to from my despair. I wallowed in that moment of self pity, barely noticing the tiny craft make landfall about 10 yards behind my car. Only the dull thud as it touched down made me lazily roll my head back and shout \"What?!\" Then I noticed the glow, a barely perceptible blue. It came from around knee height. I staggered towards it, thanks more to a full bladder than drunkedness. \n\nThe craft was a simple sphere, about 2-3 feet in diameter, coated with what looked like the chrome finish fancy car parts use. It wasn't resting on any support and I could not tell why it wasn't rolling around. Neither could I pinpoint where the glow was emanating from. I moved closer and suddenly it zapped me. Bzzzt! No lightning cutting through the tepid air, no ozone smell like the storms and no explosion either. Just an unpleasant sting. \"Mother. Fucker!\" I recoiled a few steps, blinked a few times and stared at the thing. Worms! Tens of thousands of worms, all heaped into a wet, slimy undulating mass. I could see it like recalling a scene from an old movie. That thing was carrying them, or their eggs. They're UFOs, alien fucking worms! The thought caused me to smile. First contact! \"We come in peace!\" I shouted, smiling smugly. No response. \"Fuck....you...come in peace\". Bzzzt!! Worms....a bigger mass....cupped inside a hole or crevice carved into a massive sphere....around it stars...........\n\nThey ate planets. Or stars.\n\nI turned around and ran back to my car before that thing could zap me again. I turned back, it had not moved. I popped open the trunk and pulled out the half sack of ice mix that had been sitting there for six months. A mix of concrete, sawdust and salt. I held the mouth of the sack open and moved back towards the sphere. I took a handful and flung it at the sphere.....birds! think birds....early birds....get the worm....wriggly thing....held in its beak....make it an eagle....no,no...raven.....tearing off worm flesh...feeeding it to open baby beaks....I moved close to the thing and dunked the contents of the sack on it. \n\nBzzt.....ouch! Darkness.\n\nI came to at least two hours later. The words 'threatener' and 'warner' formed in my subconscious. I crawled to where the sphere stood and pushed the ice mix away. The grassy soil was unmolested and smooth. I had a pounding headache and the smell of ammonia and warm wetness along my thigh reminded me I had also peed myself. I got up and pulled my pants off, thew my boxers into the darkness of the field. I walked back to the car and threw my pants in the trunk. I burped, an evil fermented burp straight from the pit of hell. I turned on the radio and searched the AM band for a news station.\n\nAmy would never know what being with the defender of planet Earth was like.",
"The night was quiet. The walls were sweating and the air was thick as molasses.\n\nCarl sat on his couch watching the latest Duck Dynasty. He spits a stream of dark juice from the large wad of chaw in his cheek and says, \"Honey, d'ya hear that outside?\"\n\n\"I ain't hear shit, *dear,* your daughter is shitting all over the bathtub right now,\" Debbie shouts from the bathroom.\n\nCarl spat into his spittoon and struggled to his feet. He donned his Bass Pros hat and dismissed his wife's pleas for assistance. This was a weird damn sound.\n\nHe peered out the screen door and flicked the switch of the outside porch light. The sound grew louder - it was akin to a high pitched cicada wail and it was unsettling. \n\nCarl stepped onto the porch and was accosted by a formation of softball sized beetles. \n\n\"Aw hell no. Honey, get your hairspray.\"\n\n\"God dangit, Carl, I'm cleaning up shit right now, Carl, *shit.*\" \n\n\"WOMAN GET ME THE DAMN HAIRSPRAY...and come watch *this* shit.\"\n\nDebbie delivered the aerosol hairspray just as the beetle formation had ascended the steps on the porch. Carl was waiting with his Zippo lighter.\n\nCarl spat a dark stream from his cheek into the bushes and initiated the Zippo flame. He held the Zippo flame in front of the aerosol can and began to spray. The fireball engulfed the first rank of beetles in flames. The beetles screamed like banshees. Carl cackled.\n\n\"D'ya see that shit Honey?\"\n\n\"Kill them fuckers Lover.\"\n\nCarl burned the entire Goolikan First Invasion Fleet and then pressed play on his Comcast remote to continue his favorite TV show.\n\n*disclaimer* **I'm not Carl.**\n\n**Also, I'm sorry for this**\n",
"Second post here. Feedback is appreciated.\nI hope I'm not breaking any rules about someone responding to their own prompt. I understand there's no written rule *against* doing that, and I waited several hours before posting, so, let me know if I'm breaking any etiquette here. Also, sorry if I'm breaking any length requirements, as this is quite a bit long.\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nU'larth-Pal took several steps away from the portal, flanked by his two elite guards, Del'ar-Nigath and T'oral-Fular. Two of the finest Kasanii soldiers who ever served under him. After his fifth world conquest and subsequent promotion to the 17th War Prime of Jura'll, he had been given special privilages, including his own special contingent. And so he chose his two most trusted comrades, who had served with him at countless battles, with their own battle prowess being nothing to scoff at- Nigath having saved his life more than once during the war on Esteneon, and Fular having single-handedly wiped out the dreaded, legendary Undying Corps. Of Valann-10112.\n\nAnd soon, this planet would be there's as well. They had done several cursory flyovers with a recon craft of this world. It was still a Class 0.7 civilization, still stuck in post-industrial/electronic stages, and, from what they could tell, stuck at that stage as well. These creatures still used simple radio and electro-magnetic frequencies for communication, hadn't learned how to stop the aging process (they barely lived beyond 80 of their own planet's cycles), still had to feed on organic matter for sustenance, hadn't even physically set foot on anything beyond their own satellite. Their primary source of power for their cities was to burn ancient, liquified plants plants, for Orvo's sake! As U'larth-Pal and his guards waited as the Warpgate charged and opened a receiving portal on the planet's surface, he wanted to think of the glorious battles that would follow, but instead, could only imagine how disgusting easy it would be to go against such a primitive race. There would be no challenge to it at all. Perhaps they would simply surrender and save him the trouble of bloodying his armor.\n\nAnd so he and his contingent were surprised that the moment they set foot out of the receiving end of the Warpgate, to see one of the natives sitting at a small table on a chair, an empty chair opposite to it, and tapping away at the surface of a small black device.\n\nU'larth-Pal remembered now that the info from the recons said they called themselves *hoomans,* although he'd never bothered to take a look at any pictures of them. Now that he was here, he could see just how ugly they were. It was deathly pale, and sickly-looking compared to the to U'larth-Pal's own red skin. And it's mouth was nothing more than a hole covered by two flaps of skin. And what was that stuff growing all over its head and face? Some kind of symbiote? And only one pair of eyes- so small, U'larth-Pal wondered if it could even see him standing just ten meters ahead of him.\n\nU'larth-Pal looked around. They were in an open expanse, the ground covered with some gray, solid stone-like substance. All around them were white pillars, and just beyond, the walls of some building that seemed to wrap around the entire area. Apparently the Warpgate had opened up in the courtyard of some complex. *A public gathering place, perhaps?* U'larth-Pal thought. *Excellent, the more people who see us, the sooner word of our presence will get out. And hopefully the sooner this pathetic race will surrender.* U'larth-Pal glanced back at the human. It was still tapping away at the device it was holding in its hand. U'larth-Pal looked around at the pillars. Then why is this *hooman* the only one here?\n\nU'larth-Pal looked back at the hooman, who, had finally looked up and had locked gazes with U'larth-Pal's lower set of eyes through the faceplate of his helmet. It opened it's mouth and emitted some horrible noise, somewhere between an incomprehensible babble and an annoying chattering. It actually took a few seconds before the lingual decryption program in his suit's in-built computer successfully spoke a translation.\n\n“Hello there. Won't you have a seat, please?”\n\nWow. U'larth-Pal wasn't intimately familiar with human behavior or customs, they seeming informality of the greeting was almost insulting. He walked forward, managing slow, deliberate steps. Even with the battle armor on, the planet's heavy gravity required him to be careful. He flicked his upper right eye downward, bringing up a panel in his vision displaying the suit's power-management functions, but closed it as he decided that it could wait.\n\nHe stopped right behind the chair. Looking down at the hooman, he could not only see in greater detail how truly disgusting it looked, but just how unbelievably tiny it was compared to him. This creature wouldn't even stand to U'larth-Pal's shoulder wearing his Battlearmor. And even out of it, U'larth-Pal must stand at least a whole head-and-a-half taller. And if the clothing was any indication, these creatures seemed to prefer modesty over practicality and function. It was wearing a black, uncomfortable-looking synthetic weave of some sort, with a black, heavy-looking vest over its chest. U'larth-Pal had heard that the *hoomans* at one point wore plant-fibers and animal skins, and that some of them still did.\n\nThe creature lowered its head as it looked back down at the small device in its hand and began tapping away again. This sheer lack of respect to U'larth-Pal was becoming irritating. He looked at the *hoomans* head, idly wondering how difficult it would be, if at all, to crush it with a single hand. Finally, the *hooman* stopped tapping at the device and looked up again. It's mouth opened and let out that awful garble that passed for an excuse for speech. His Battlearmor's computer quickly began running to produce a translation. Now, U'larth-Pal just wanted to crush the *hooman's* head, if for no other reason than to stop that Orvo-awful noise of language coming out of its hideous face. 3 seconds later, the computer finally spit out a translation.\n\n“Who are you, and what are your intentions?”\n\nU'larth-Pal turned on the inbuilt speaker of his helmet and spoke as his computer produced a monotone-sounding translation in the creature's language. Against all laws of probability, this somehow managed to make the native's language sound even worse.\n\n“I am U'larth-Pal, 17th War Prime of Jura'll, and we are here to discuss the terms of your subjugation under the Kasani Empire. You will surrender immediately or face destruction of untold scale.”\n\n“I see.” The native glanced back down and started tapping away at its device again. Now U'larth-Pal was just angry. Of all the planets he had conquered, the natives would either bow down to him and his forces, flee in a blind panic, or at the very least, put up some futile resistance (the last being his favorite response, as it was, by far, the most entertaining). But to be ignored? To someone of his standing, this was quite possibly the gravest insult of all. He looked down and had just began to reach for his sidearm, no longer willing to dirty his hands on this insolent creature (besides, that symbiote growing all over its head could be contagious), when the hooman spoke again. He only stayed his hand out of curiosity of the creature's response, but what his translator spoke, he quickly looked back at the human, shocked by what he heard.\n\n“That would probably be a very bad idea.”\n\nWell this was a new one. No native on any world had ever straight-up tried to bluff their way out of an invasion, before. All four of U'larth-Pal's eyes were focused on the hooman now. Now he was curious. *Alright, let's see how this plays out. Might actually be fun.* U'larth-Pal spoke and a second later the speaker on his helmet spat out the translation.\n\n“Explain.”\n\n“What I'm saying,” U'larth-Pal's translator spoke out, several seconds behind the *hooman's* speech, as it put down the small device on the table (finally, thought U'larth-Pal), “Is that it would be a huge mistake. For you. Possibly your last.”"
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[WP] A Necromancer's undead minions attempt to unionise.
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"as I run away from the wizard I noticed one place I could go. The cemetery. I am a necromancer after all. \n\nMy thought was broken when another burst of red plasma shot past my head. I shot another Flaming Skull back at him and heard him slightly yelp then shout \"Parkour!\" I ducked into the cemetery and ran toward a tall gravestone I could hide behind. I grabbed the stone on my necklace and forced my will into it and summoned the undead. \n\n\"Hell's Bells,\" I heard him mutter as corpse after corpse worked their way out of their graves. I stood up, composed myself and slowly walked out with my hands in my pockets. \"Well, well, well Mr.Dresden. you really had me on the ropes there but now the tide have turned.\" I could see the panic in the aging wizards eyes. \"go get him.\" I said as I extended my hands toward him. \n\n\"actually sir...\" one of the corpses uttered, \"we where thinking of forming a union.\" I think my eye twitched slightly. \"WHAT?!\" I shouted in rage, \"I brought you back to life now do my bidding and KILL HIM ALREADY!\" They all just looked at each other. \"What are you waiting for? me to join you guys? because that's going to take a while!\" I said. \"Might be sooner than you think\" Harry said. Confused I just gave him a look as he pointed his staff toward me, said a quick word under his breath, and pain exploded in my chest. within a red flash of light and heat I was on the ground. \n\nI laid on the ground motionless as snow started to fall on my face. I heard the crunch of the corpses laying back into their coffins and the wizard walking toward me. \"you are an idiot for thinking you can start trouble on my turf kid. the white council will be here soon to collect you, weather you are dead or alive.\" he said. I looked at him and I said, \"Wizard...\" in a soft voice. he looked at me like he wanted to know what I wanted to say. \"That hurt...\" I say. With a chuckle he says, \"It's supposed to kid.\" from one of the graves I hear, \"YOU DESERVED IT ASSHOLE!!!\" after that Dresden couldn't hold his laughter in anymore.",
"\"You'll never have us, bastard! Not our souls!\" yelled the talking dead-man at the top of the battlements. I could hear the screams of the women and children as the men slaughtered them in hopes of saving their souls. The howls of the massacre were one hell of a tease, infuriating to my hungry form. Such waste. One had as well burn money or allow good meat to rot as do this. It was a crime that they would pay for, and most harshly.\n\nThe rattling march of the Skeltals brought a smile to my face. The hold would soon be completely surrounded, and then the harvest would begin. The reaping of the men alone would be enough to nearly double my power, making me the mightiest Necromancer the Western sea had ever seen. And I did not doubt that some frail, fool women would hide away their children in the hope of their survival. And survive they would, among my ranks. I licked my lips at the thought.\n\nMy right hand, Mallard, a Skeltal as yellowed as a cheap whore’s teeth, respectfully knelt in front of me. \"Mal. Are the dead in position?\" I asked, my need to feast making me shake with anticipation. I had decided I would fight among them and feed on man-flesh. \n\n\"Yes, Your Greatness, we are deployed as ordered,\" he said in his scratchy, dead tone. \n\nMy mouth watered and my blood leapt with excitement. \"Then sound the advance!\" I screamed lustfully, beginning to stride toward the iron-studded oak gates.\n\n\"Uh, sir?\" Mallard hesitantly asked.\n\n\"*What*?\" I snarled, spraying hot spittle all over his porous skull.\n\n\"Well, we're not going to advance, sir. Not until you accede to some of our demands.\"\n\n\"*DEMANDS?*\" My power began to show, distorting the air around me and sending my too-large shadow in all directions, a darkness that was death for the living to touch. \n\n\"Well, uh, requests, actually sir. Just some things me and the men have talked over and feel that we need.\" Mallards raspy voice managed to crack, despite his absence of vocal cords. \n\n\"Oh, so you can *feel* now?\" My words were full of condescending malice. He rattled were he stood, bones clacking against one another like a particularly annoying instrument. \"Then feel THIS!\" My power came to me in full as my words howled through him. He blew apart in a cloud of fine dust resembling a flowers pollen. I inhaled sharply, taking in the shattered soul and feeling its warmth course through me. \n\n\"MARCH FORWARD OR KNOW HELL!\" Had the Skeltals had eardrums, they would have gone deaf at the boom of my ultimatum. Without hesitation, they strode forward to do my bidding, putting aside all thoughts of freedom and comfort.\n",
"\"What do we want?\"\n\n**\"Brains!\"**\n\n\"When do we want it?\"\n\n**\"Brains!\"**\n\nMorganos the Undying arose from his slumber and looked out to see his minions on strike. So he transformed himself into an inn-keeper, and teleported to a small country village to try to find a hero to stop this rebellion. \n\nOne day a hero came and asked him, \"have you heard of any jobs around?\" \n\nSo, Morganos repeated the speach that he had rehearsed, \"O my, the lych king has risen an undead army outside his castle. I wish someone would destroy that army.\"\n\n\"Aha! A quest! I'm off to destroy the undead army.\"\n\n\"heh, too easy.\"",
"\"I'm telling you, Larry, he can't do shit *without us.* We are the ones doing the legwork. We storm the villages. We attack the heroes. We collect the gold and jewels, and for what?\" \n\n\"For nothing!\" Ted interjected.\n\n\"For worse than nothing,\" Brad replied. \"We get the arrows, the ice daggers, the *fucking fireballs*. We get the sharp end of spears and our limbs cut off again and again and again. What? Don't we deserve a little peace? A little restitution? A little something for working like the undead slaves we are?\"\n\nThe others nodded fervently. \n\nBrad continued, \"I'm not asking for the damned *book.* I'm not asking for a fancy robe or enchanted amulet. I'm just asking that we be treated with a little bit of dignity.\"\n\n\"I was a nobleman in my previous life!\" John shouted from nearby.\n\n\"You see that?\" Brad asked Larry. \"John was a fucking nobleman in his past life.\" He broke eye contact with Larry. \"And what do you do now, John?\"\n\n\"He takes my skin for potions.\"\n\nBrad looked back at Larry, but pointed a thumb back towards John. \"They take his fucking skin for potions. Disgraceful.\"\n\nAfter a moment of silence passed in the dank, torchlit cave, Larry leaned forward and said, \"I'm in!\"\n\nThere was a cheer among the undead that was peppered with the rattle of bones and the soft clanking of armor.\n\n\"I mean, what's the worst that could happen?\" Larry asked.\n\n\"He puts us back where he fucking found us,\" Brad grumbled."
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[WP] All the pokeMon in kanto suddenly turn on all of the people there. What do the other regions do?
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"Some weren't a threat to them.\n\nFor example, most bug types were easy to deal with, because many trainers from Johto used Fire-types. Grass types were also the least of our concerns, save for a few trained and evolved ones; Venusaur was probably the hardest, and it only took a hit or two from a strong Typhlosion to beat one.\n\nAs for the people, many trainers evacuated to Johto by several crowded boats. Many of the trainers from Johto were coming to help too while Hoenn and Sinnoh dispatched reinforcements.\n\nFor a few hours, Unova didn't hear about it. However, when Hilbert changed absentmindedly flipped the channel to Kanto News, he almost jumped at what he saw.\n\nGym leaders and even champions were running about, trying to knock out the rebel Pokemon. Policemen from Johto were taking shaking citizens and shocked trainers to safety. Hilbert walked outside and flew his Unfezant to Castelia City from his home in Nuvema to make sure the rest of the region knew.\n\nIn Kalos, as soon as Castelia City News broadcasted the disaster, Calem and Serena had been on a date in Lysandre Cafe. \"Should we tell them, Calem?\" Serena questioned.\n\nCalem sighed. \"How will we help? It's all the way in Kanto, those legendaries aren't-\" He paused, and he gaped at the TV.\n\n\"What is it?\" She looked over at the TV in the cafe as well, her expression matching Calem's as a waiter changed the channel.\n\nMewtwo, the second most powerful Pokemon, was on a rampage, holding two stones; one was dark blue, purple, and silver. The other was pink, purple and silver. On its wrist was a Mega Ring, and Mewtwo started to change. \"How...?\" Calem choked.\n\n\"Hey, Calem...\"\n\n\"Y-Yeah?\"\n\n\"You have Greninja and Mega Absol, and I have Yveltal... shouldn't we get going?\"\n\nHe nodded. \"Let's go. Hopefully the others will realize they should come to. I bet they all have Pokemon that could take on Mewtwo.\"\n\n\"Yeah. Red has Mega Gyrados, I think. Ethan and Lyra have Mega Tyranitar and Mega Houndoom. May and Brendan should both have an Absol. If we're lucky, Dawn and Lucas might have a Darkrai, but one of them probably has a Spiritomb. Hilbert and Hilda might have Krookodile and Hydreigon...\" Serena tore of a bite of her croissant.\n\n\"But with all of that, do they really need our help?\"\n\nSerena paused, then kept on eating. \"I guess you're right.\"\n\n*Meanwhile, in Kanto...*\n\nRed gritted his teeth in frustration. Ethan and Lyra had given up. May and Brendan didn't have an Absol. Dawn and Lucas had gotten Ghost types, which were defeated easily by Mewtwo's Bite. Hilda and Hilbert had been assaulted directly. Red himself didn't have a Mega Ring.\n\nIf only the heroes of Kalos were there with Yveltal and Mega Absol to help. Maybe he wouldn't be forced to watch his region and some of Johto be crushed by a single Pokemon.",
"In other news the Kanto is experiencing a massive orgy after a single resident told another that all those Pokemons turned him on, the other residents first denied similar feelings but later agreed.\n\nWhen pokemons were asked what they though of the turn of events they replied \"squirtle squirle squirtllleee\".\n\nThis was Hoenn radio news signing off."
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[WP]: You are the chief of the language police. One day you realise that none of your co-workers actually know the proper definition of "irony"
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"Head of the National Language Police Department Christina Sunveil looked out over her assembled men and women with a stare that, if poetic freedom was something she had condoned, shot daggers.\n\n\"So, what you are telling me, is that no-one here knows the definition of the word irony?!\" Christina growled.\n\nShe was met with silence and some embarrassed shuffling. \n\n\"We are the bloody Language Police! We´re supposed to know the meaning of words! How on earth are we supposed to do our jobs if we don´t know the meaning of words?!\"\n\nIf shuffling feet were an Olympic sport her department would at least be of use for something.\n\n\"Is any of you going to give me an explanation? What about you George?\"\n\nDeer in the headlights wasn´t a good enough comparison for George´s facial expression. \n\n\"Umm, well you see Chief, eeeh...\" He trailed off.\n\n\"Oh pull yourself together man. Neither \"umm\", nor \"eeeh\" are words contrary to \"irony\". Now give me an answer!\"\n\n\"Well I´m not sure it´s my responsibility really. You see, I thought it was Janice´s area.\"\n\n\"And I was quite convinced it was Ali´s.\" Janice said, jumping as soon as her name was mentioned. \n\n\"Nonono, don´t go putting the blame on me. I´ve only been working here for six months, how am I supposed to know?\" Ali retorted.\n\n\"Ok, shut up the lot of you! I´m sick of hearing you blame each other. The fact remains that none of you know the meaning of the word. May I ask how you deal with a situation where you hear someone use \"irony\" in a sentence?\"\n\nGeorge cleared his throat. \n\n\"The thing is, we´re quite convinced most of the public has trouble using the word correctly. So if someone was to say \"Wow, that´s what I call irony!\" our action would be to inform the person that they are using the word incorrectly.\"\n\n\"But you don´t know if they are using it correctly or not if you don´t know what it means?\"\n\n\"No, but we can correct them using a technique we call \"the Politician\". What one does is you simply state some vague rules that may or may not have anything to do with irony and then you just tell the supposed offender that we´ll let it slide this time.\"\n\n \"That´s ridiculous! That´s not doing your job properly. We can´t have police going around making up the definition of a word and then saying that they will let the transgression pass? What´s the point of this department if you don´t know your own language?\"\n\nAli mumbled something inaudible.\n\n\"Excuse me?! Do speak up!\" Christina´s growl had turned into a fully fledged roar. \n\n\"I was asking if you could tell us the definition. As we can´t go around not knowing it.\"\n\nChristina shut her mouth. Then she opened it again. \n\n\"Weeeeell irony is when something is ironic, which has it´s base in the word iron meaning metallic...\"\n\n\"You don´t know either do you, Chief?\" George said carefully.\n\nThe whole room grew even more silent than before, which may or may not have been possible considering the lack of sound that hade already covered the room. After what felt like a few very long seconds Christina cleared her throat.\n\n\"Have you checked the archives?\"\n\n\"Yup. Nothing useful in them. Only a note left by the archivist at the time stating that he would return to the word when he knew the proper meaning.\" Janice replied.\n\n\"I suppose there´s nothing we can really do then. I think it were best if we all didn´t speak of this again.\" \n\nShe was met by a bout of enthusiastic nodding.\n\n\"Alright then, don´t just stand here then, there´s work to be done. There´s texts to be checked for incorrect \"its\" and people to fine for using idioms incorrectly. We better get at it, the country isn´t going to stay grammatically correct on it´s own.\"\n",
"\"Shit boss, we got a 419 down at East St Lawrence Street.\" \n\nVerdkinski was already packing her folders and notepads into her travel bag and checking her gun. I looked at her askew \"You mean we *have* a 419?\" \n\nShe looked over, suddenly worried. \"Sure, sure, just pulling your tail.\" \n\n\"My *leg*, you pull someone's *leg*, that's the correct phrase Verdkinski.\" This was only her third day on the job and I was worried. Here in St Louis we only had a small team and we needed top people, we couldn't nurse this rookie along and if she wasn't the right material we needed to know now. \n\nI pushed my worries aside, maybe she was just teasing, maybe she just had a quirky sense of humour. I could admit that my own sense of humour died the day I was made Chief of the Language Police, or 'Chief Pedant' as Mary had always teased me. I grabbed my trusty .45, strapped on my backup piece, strapped my twin knives to my back and picking up my trusty sawn off shotgun, we finally made for the car. \n\nWe wailed through the streets, carving a path through the early morning traffic, at last arriving at the newspaper stand, where I could see the flashing lights already gathered. \n\nParking outside the cordon we pushed through the crowd. Jones was on line duty and lifted the rope. Inside I could see Smitty had the perp held down, face on the pavement, I could rely on Smitty. \n\nVerdkinski went straight for the action but I held back, I liked to watch my team work. She approached the small newspaper kiosk and pulled her camera from her bag, photographing all around carefully. Finally satisfied she moved in closer and examined directly. \n\nOff to my left I heard a distinctive snap of a bone breaking; Smitty wanted answers from the Vendor and it seemed he'd turned to arm snapping to get them. I didn't mind. A keening wail went out over the noise of the crowd, which was cut off sharply as Smitty introduced face to concrete again. \n\nVerdkinski had closed in now and was dusting for prints, she'd had long enough and I moved up next to her. \n\n\"Report.\" I kept my voice clipped and level, what I could see made the bile rise in my throat, but I kept it down. \n\n\"It's an apostrophe Boss, just as the called described. The fuck would there be an apostrophe here?\" \n\nShe gestured to the sign, chalk on a backboard, still smudged with fingerprints. ***Cold Drinks'***\n\nSmitty drifted over to stand behind me, casually wiping the blood from his hands onto his department windbreaker. He spat in disgust, the glob of phlegm soaring over the rope and out of the scene. \n\n“It’s disgusting, a man like that. A clear 419 and it’s ironic, he’s barely literate too.” \n\nI shot him a look in puzzlement and then glanced at Verdkinski, who was nodding along. \n\nI tried to make sense of what he’d said “It’s ironic as a man who can’t spell got the apostrophe wrong?” \n\nHe looked at me puzzled “Well, yeah and also because he used chalk, so it would be easily fixable”. \n\nVerdkinski laughed “Good one.” \n\nI slowly backed away, keeping them to my front. The shotgun was in the car, it was nearly 40 feet away. Too far. I reached under my jacket and slipped my .45 out of its holster. Pulling it free I fired a warning shot in the air. \n\n“BACK THE FUCK UP AND GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!” I screamed at my once colleagues. They looked at me startled and the slow light of realisation drifted over Smitty’s face. \n\n“Now come on boss, let’s not be too hasty here.” He took a step towards me and I plugged him, through the left eye. The crowd who had been trying to leave in a hurry since the first shot, now fled the scene in a screaming mob. \n\nVerdkinski had turned and her hand was creeping towards her belt. “Don’t do it.” I called, trying to make my voice as gentle as possible. To my right I could see Jones, he’d moved round to flank her. Good Jones, keep her in your line of sight, I mentally urged. \n\nShe moved first but I was quicker, before her gun was even out, I had two in her chest and she was down. I knew she wore armour and so I was over and on top of her fast. She was winded and looked up at me, fear in her eyes. \n\nI smiled, tonight the force would be two scum bags better off. I squeezed the trigger and put two through her brain. \n"
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[WP]Time travel is real, but all travelers in every reality of the multiverse end up in a single timestream, yours. It's a problem.
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"Despite all the scientists, quantum theorists and even Hot Tub Time Machine, Edgar had perfected time-travel. He carefully placed the final flux capacitor and took a seat, now he could finally go back in time and make Julie fall for him.\n\n“Fire it up!” he called to the most dismissive of characters that quickly and mindlessly obliged his order. A kaleidoscope of lightening, darkness and, of all things, penguins filled his vision as he was transported thirty years into the past. When he awoke, Edgar sat in a lobby with eight young boys, who looked rather familiar, and an old man who, the smell of would suggest, had urinated on himself.\n\n“Geoffrey! We got another one!” Shrieked a woman that if Edgar had to describe would be the largest he had ever seen. She then told him something about staying calm and a sandwich. Perhaps he made the sandwich bit up, he had not taken into account the preservation of stomach law he had instituted upon himself in college.\n\n“Now, with a show of hands, which one of you is Edgar?” Edgar raised his hand and so did everyone else in the room, save the old man. “Edgar Welford?” all the hands remained up. “Edgar Collins Welford of Whales?” One boy’s hand quivered, but in the end stayed up, much as Edgar’s did. “I thought so…”\n\n“Geoffrey,” the woman whispered in a way that everyone in the room could hear her, “the old one too, he took the long way.” The old man seemed to border on what could have been a thought but instead decided to drool on his trousers.\n\n“Right,” started the man Edgar assumed to be Geoffrey, “so let me briefly explain why you are all here. Each and every one of you is undoubtedly and irreversibly, an asshole. That’s right an asshole. You are the one person in all of the space-time-continuum, that we are aware of, who has achieved time travel. That being said, it seems that time is actually more of the issue here. You, and I mean that in every sense possible, achieved time-travel for what? Some broad named Julie. Well guess what folks? Julie doesn’t exist yet. Perplexed? You, when was Julie born?” Geoffrey points at one of the boys arbitrarily.\n\n“Oh, umm, June twenty-second, nineteen-ninety.”\n\n“Correct! Do you know what year it is? No you don’t, but let me tell you, it’s nineteen-eighty-six!” It was at this moment Edgar (the original, or O.G. Edgar) raised his hand to which Geoffrey looked at rather quizzically.\n\n“So what is this place?” O.G. Edgar asked.\n“Glad you asked, this is a state-of-the-art government funded lobby. Why does it exist? Because you, and every version of you, seems to be hell bent on changing the past. We can’t simply go into the future and slap some sense into you, because that would be WRONG, so we built this place to welcome you when you inevitably arrive.”\n\n“So what are you going to do with us?” another boy from the choir asked.\n\n“From here you will go to a secret facility were we are housing all the other versions of yourself. Once there we hope you will collaborate with all the other versions of yourself and build a time machine that sends you back where you came from.” After a few more words from Geoffrey the Edgars were sent from the room to the alleged secret laboratory. All of the Edgars wondered how secret it was, but all of them thought better of actually asking. \n\n“Is there one of us native to this time that I can at least tell about Julie.” Geoffrey gave him a glance that made O.G. Edgar wish he hadn’t asked.\n\n“There is an Edgar native to our time, but he has been sent to a private art school where there is no Julie, time-travel or any other nonsense for him to stick his nose in.”\n",
"Journal entry of Ascii Faceman Ph. D Theoretical Physics - D.O.D Flashpoint Project \nSeptember 28th, 2:36AM 2114. \n\nHeat. It is a problem.\n\nFor a hundred years we have had our best scientists working on the problem. The more people you pack on to a planet, the more heat you generate. Also, the more temporal rifts you open into a universe, the more heat is released into it. The creation of matter, a theoretical impossibility. Eventually, it passes a limit that the planet, or universe for that matter, can handle. A hundred years ago the first traveler appeared. Since then there have been billions. \n\nAs it turns out, each one was from a distinctly different variant of our own timeline. Every possible different movement made by every existing quark had spawned a different independent universe. Each one had spawned time travel except for ours; no *As it turns out*, ours is the dump.\n\nWe had no reference for time travel, it was a joke, a science fiction story. When they began appearing, sometimes a dozen and then later millions at a time, all we could do was try and pick their brains and then cryogenically freeze them for mass storage (I mean seriously, what else would we do with billions of extra humans?). Unfortunately, nobody sends scientists on a maiden time travel voyage. The people sent to us had no concept of the technology used to do so. Each one showed up just as surprised as we were, that they were in not only a different time but a whole different universe to begin with.\n\nSome use devices that stay at their origin, some arrive with the devices attached to them. When we attempt to use the device that is sent with them, it copies the person trying to use it. We have theorized that those from the other universes are still there also, and just a copy was sent to us. For all we know, they consider that project a failure and move on to a working technology.\n\nHold on, one just showed up in my room... ",
"Evan woke up to discover that his alarm clock had been replaced by a sheep, again. \n\nHe groaned. His head hurt. He was pretty sure yesterday he'd been run over by a truck. \n\nHe staggered downstairs to the kitchen, where pancakes and a warm coffee were already prepared and set out on the table. Evan was relaxing on the rolling chair, curled up in the weird way he preferred to sit, reading the newspaper upside down. \n\n\"Hey,\" he said. \"Evan made pancakes. Wasn't that nice of him? He's gone back to the Paleolothic to scrounge up supplies.\" \n\nEvan looked back at the table, but the pancakes had been replaced with sheep. \n\nDamn time paradoxes. \n\nHe wandered over to the hallway closet to see if there was anything else to eat. Twinkies. Eurgh. But he grabbed several anyway. And contemplated the problem of infinity. \n\nThe problem was, there were infinite realities. The problem was, they all led into this one. The problem was, *this* reality had only finite resources. At some point, eventually, logic dictated that they were going to run out of resources. \n\nOf course logic was not the strong point of a world infested with more time paradoxes than cockroaches. So that, even though the world should have starved to death millenia ago, here it was, ticking away, on a seemingly infinite supply of paradoxical sheep and smuggled goods from the age of dinosaurs. \n\nThis was all great fun for the time travelers. There was an ongoing competition to arrive a few fractions of a second earlier and kill Hitler, the most murdered man in history (featured twice and interviewed four times about his record breaking mortality in TIME magazine). There were constant expeditions to different time periods in history, from the big bang to the heat death of the universe. Technology from the year 999999999999999 had been found forming anachronisms as far back as the Hadeon eon, although it was widely assumed that there were more anachronisms further back. \n\nTime travelers, after all, were all a bit crazy. It was actually a prerequisite, across the entire multiverse. A certain amount of crazy. So they were happy, in this messed up, psychotic time stream. \n\nThey were happy. Evan was not. His mother (also his sister and granddaughter) and his father (a distant second cousin, an imaginary friend, and every one of his exes) had conceived and given birth to Evan locally. He wasn't a time traveler, a fact made somehow even more terrible by Evan being, statistically, the third most common name for successful time travelers. He'd never visited any of the places everyone kept gabbling gleefully on about, and he could never time leap a time paradox headache away. No, he had to live with the mess everyone else made, and it was killing him, daily. \n\nHe wanted to apply to the department of temporal euthanasia. He'd been trying to for a year now. \n\nHe walked outside and was run over by a truck. "
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Can't wait to read and... and maybe fap.
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[WP] Write a dirty story using only clean words.
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"Lissy was sitting at her desk. She was alone in detention again, but she already knew the drill; this would not make it onto her academic record. Mr B walked in and shut the door behind him. After a few silent moments of mutual understanding, Mr B leant against the desk and unwrapped his twinky. Lissy moved towards him unbuttoning the top few buttons of her shirt and began to suck on the larger than average twinky. This continued until Lissy had sucked all the cream out of the twinky; with a smug laugh she turned away from Mr B. Suddenly Mr B spoke up, he implied that he wanted to put his twinky in her microwave. This caught Lissy of guard; she hadn't used her microwave yet, she wasn't sure how big it was and what the recommended heating times were. Mr B assured her that it would be OK as he grabbed her buns.\n\nLissy was a bit unsure of what happened next, she was laying on the desk, Mr B was licking her jelly bean and telling her how good it tasted. She began to feel a warm tingly sensation run up and down her body; like popping candy but better. Mr B gently nibbled her jelly bean. Lissy's coke can exploded. Wiping his mouth Mr B stood over her and pushed his twinky in and out of her microwave. It was a bit small but Mr B didn't care. He kept going till his twinky lost it's cream a second time, ignoring Lissy's moaning. Needless to say, Lissy's microwave serviced the staff room lots over her 3 year course.",
"It was Frankies first day on the job. He was excited. He was the newest member of the team. It was a typical government job. Everyone just stood around with their hands in their pockets while one *lucky* idiot got to do all the work. He was down in the hole, sweating and cursing. He said she liked it when he talked dirty to her. He was straining hard. I thought he'd pop a blood vessel. I was mesmerized by the way the blood vessel throbbed at his temple. It wasn't long till I was called in to help. \n\nI'd never slid into a hole with another man before, but I was cool with it. I was smaller than he was. Together, we tore that girl a new one--literally. We pulled to hard and broke the coupler. Sewage shot out of the pipe and filled the hole we were in. If not for the rest of the crew pulling us out of the man hole, we'd have probably drowned in crap.\n\nAnd that was my first day on the job. The guys called it my first gangbang. It was really dirty and the smell was attrocious.",
"He liked to ride so often, he had a commuter pass. \n\nThe transaction was always the same, he arrived and donned his gear. He would climb the peak, and at the top plant his flag. The trek down always daunting with the exhaustion of the climb weighing on him. At the bottom of the slopes, he would indulge himself in the local tradition of eating a plate of meat with his hands behind his back. It was always a thrill. \n\nHe paid her $150 and left.",
"She had only heels on. She knows I love when she comes to bed like that. She walked over seductively and asked, \"Are you ready?\". I just nodded my head. She crawled under the blanket hand slowly caressing my thigh. She settled in the nook of my arm and laid their, her hand slowly rising up my leg. She got to her destination and did a quick squeeze while whispering, \"Oh, hello there.\" We began to passionately kiss while our hands explored each others bodies. She told me she couldn't take it anymore and jumped on top of me. She rode me like it was a rodeo, and let me tell you that bronco was a buckin'. We then proceeded to do the deed in a few other animal oriented positions, and even some career oriented positions. We were at for hours upon hours until we finally finished, her third, my first. Went down to grab us something to drink and when I came back up she was waiting for me on all fours. No time to waste, I just got back on that ride like a fast pass at Disney World. We went around loops and corkscrews, she was screaming obscene words and whispering sexual nothings into my ear while I was pumping away like a self serve gas station. We tried things we never did before, we ended up tangled up like a pretzel while still managing to be connected. As time started to come to a close I could feel the explosion rising. I sat back a little further than usual and began to jerk harder than bodybuilders in a weightlifting competition. The end result ended up on her face, and she smiled at me as she wiped it off and told me she loved. Then our kids came barging in asking why Mommy and Daddy were all sweaty and we told them Mommy was practicing for the rodeo and Daddy was practicing for his weightlifting competition. The kids replied, \"But you guys have never done any of that stuff\"."
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[WP] The weather is controlled by the highest bidder, write about the vicious bidding war that happens every month.
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"That day it rained. \n \nThough just a drizzle it had been scheduled to hydrate the various plant life following the 4th. We thought the system worked back then, with the invention of the orbital meteotron things had become so much simpler. You see, groups of various high rollers with armies of meteorologists at the employ would bid for the honor or scheduling the next months weather. Of course every country wanted a citizen of theirs to win, it would mean their holidays would be clear and beautiful without fail. There was no more planning contingencies around the unpredictable will of mother nature. No more tropical storms leaving coastal towns devastated or unfortunate droughts leaving farm land barren. And the best of it was, all the proceeds went directly to various charities. \n \nTo anyone listening to this, any traveler from a far away world... This is our story and how everything went wrong. By the time you will have found this all life will be gone from our planet. I leave this to stand testament to our hubris and serve as a warning. \n \nThe bidding started as it had many times before. The world tuned in on the 5th of this fateful July day to find Mr.J.R.Moneypockets putting in an early bid. As always he would start low, 2.5 million, a mere 500 thousand over the starting price. Though Moneypockets was no cheapskate, he had won several times going as high as 6 trillion on several occasions (forcing everyone else to have an absolutely beautiful Boxing Day in the process). \n \nObviously such an honor wouldn't be pawned off for such a pittance. Mary Elizabeth Renée Afluentworthe the thirds voice was the next to echo out over the hallowed halls in which they held the bid. \n\"Tisk Tick\", she sneared, \"Showing off again with the first bid, I see. Well I'll have you know, I will not be outdone. 2 Billion to start.\" \n \nI could just hear the boos of millions, the one time Mrs.Mary had won the bid she had picked some stupid tiny country whos holidays to celebrate. And it just so happened that 'Howamungaba Day' (Read: Blistering freaking heat day) fell in December. \n \n\"We all know, that should either of these fools win the bid...\", a voice uttered from behind a curtain before pausing, \"That we'll see not a hint of snow for at least another four months\". The curtain flew open suddenly to reveal none else but Johnny Snow (Duh), his lips curved up he continued. \"10 Billion, and we can put this cursed sun business behind us\". \n \nMary chimed in \"The only one we can say is a fool, for certain, is you my dear man. You may have been clever for using snow to stop the Ghost Nazis back in '2367 but stopping ghost Nazis is about all that snow is good for\". And with a smug look upon her face she bid 30 billion. \n \n\"I have to agree with Mary on this one, though I since I can't say she'd make much better use of the weather, 100 Billion\" Moneypockets retorted. \n \n\"Achtung baby!\" yet another voice cried from behind another curtain. As the silken drape swung open we find it's none other than Klavier Gavin from Phoenix Wright 4! \"It looks like\" he pauses before spending several seconds playing on an air guitar no one can actually hear, \"We're in for some moderately temperate weather this month! I bid 230 billion\". \n \nTo this Johnny Snow just laughed \"You need to...\" the world cringed in preparation as he had made this joke for the last four months running \"Let it go! Cause I cant't turn back anymore\". No one was amused, as he raised the stakes to 300 Billion.\n \n\"400 Billion\" another voice rang out, only to be shown up a second later. \"450 billion\", \"500 billion\", \"800\", it continued like this for nearly two hours before it happened. \n \nJust as Mr.Moneypockets was about to deal the finishing blow a curtain, from a bidder who has previously kept silent flew open. His face was covered by a mask not unlike one you'd find at masquerade ball. His voice deep and smooth, spoke out with confidence. \n \n\"12 Trillion dollars, and not a cent more\". The hall broke out in utter chaos, in a state of absolute shock Moneybags tried overthrow the bid but forgot to raise his sign. The auctioneer counted down and it was done. The man walked up to the stage where the machine resided and from his pocket took a small device. The machine took the device inside itself and the world looked on to see the next months weather. DOUBLE RAINBOWS EVERY SINGLE DAY. \n \nThe man threw the mask from his face to reveal a great /b/ written across his forehead in marker. The governments of the world panicked, but it was too late, our fate was sealed the moment the machine was built without a single safeguard or abortion mechanism. The torrential rains that followed did so without end, until our crops had drowned and our homes flooded. Even now, we try to pick up the pieces of our shattered life but we know now there is nothing we can do. Soon the last of us will starve, and all that will remain is this message. So I implore you, please, never let 4chan decide your weather. \n \nEdit: Most problems should be gone. Written on mobile so it's a bit sloppy.",
"At the podium, the announcer was now sweating visibly. The temperature in the room had been rising steadily through the auction. The price was at fifty grand already and rising for the month of August.\n\nWay out of our price range, as usual. NBC, and by extension, the weather channel would probably take this one again, and contract out the actual weather events. It had won the last ten auctions. It was really a formality at this point.\n\nIt's tough belonging to an out-of-favor pantheon these days. I was mentally preparing to go toady up to the NBC rep in his slick suit. Try and maybe get a few thunderstorms somewhere in the midwest. The big guy really likes the midwest.\n\nThat was when my companion stood up. Oh no.\n\n**\"I, THOR, GOD OF THUNDER WILL TAKE THE BID\"**\n\nOh gods. People were looking at us. I tried to sink lower into my chair and began tugging at the big guy's furs.\n\n\"Listen, Thor, we don't have the cash for-\"\n\n**\"NO. I WANT THIS ONE! IT SHALL BE....FUN.\"**\n\nThe announcer cut in at this point.\n\n\"O-Okay, we have fifty thou, fifty thou, do I hear fifty-five? Fifty-five? Yes! You sir, I have fifty-five, do I hear sixty?\"\n\nThe NBC rep had raised his little number, thank gods. We *really* didn't have fifty grand. I pulled desperately at Thor's chain mail, trying to get him to sit down.\n\n\"Going once-\"\n\n**\"IS THAT THE MAN? I CHALLENGE HIM FOR IT!\"**\n\nI knew I shouldn't have bought him along. He just couldn't understand why I came home each month without the weather rights. He insisted. It's difficult to argue with an eight foot tall viking with a hammer.\n\n\"Thor, you can't challenge him. He's buying it, fair is fair...\"\n\n**\"I CAN TOO. I AM THOR, SON OF ODIN, AND I WILL CHALLENGE YOU, FOUL BUREAUCRAT FOR THE RIGHTS TO THE MONTH OF AUGUST!\"**\n\nThe announcer had stopped talking at this point. Everyone in the room had turned to look at us. Everyone but that rep. He just sat in his chair, playing a game on his phone. He looked bored.\n\n\"And....sold for fifty-five thousand,\" the poor announcer squeaked.\n\n**\"NO IT IS NOT. I SHALL FIGHT HIS CLAIM. HE SHALL TASTE MY HAMMER!\"**\n\n\"Wow, okay Thor, I mean, *phrasing*, really. Please sit down. We lost the bid. What are you gonna do with a whole month anyway?\"\n\nSecurity was moving towards us at this point. They had wisely put away the tasers and were moving for the pepper spray. Great. Just great.\n\n**\"THERE WOULD BE THUNDERSTORMS UPON EACH DAY, AS IS PROPER. AND HEAVY CLOUDS. I *LIKE* HEAVY CLOUDS.\"**\n\n\"Yeah, that's great. Listen, you realize this is why nobody worships us anymore, right? But please sit down. Security is going to throw us out, Thor....\"\n\n**\"LET THEM TRY! THEY TOO SHALL TASTE OF MY HAMMER-\"**\n\n\"*Phrasing*\"\n\n**\"AND I SHALL RAIN SUCH FURY DOWN UPON THEM AS HAS NEVER BEEN KNOWN BY MORTAL MAN SINCE THE HEADY DAYS OF-\"**\n\nAt this point, unnoticed by myself or my companion, one of the security guards had gotten close enough for a clear shot at the giant bearded viking. I have to give him credit. That guy maced the *shit* out of him. I mean, it takes balls to pepper spray the god of thunder.\n\n**\"MY EYES! WHAT IS THIS MORTAL SOURCERY?! IT BURNS LIKE THE FIRES OF RAGNAROK!\"**\n\nI was already walking out of the room. I'd explain to the Allfather later. I was pursuing the rep from NBC, who had sighed and walked out while the moron was being pepper sprayed by James the Security Guard. With luck, I could pretend like I wasn't with Thor. Maybe pull a deal out of this yet."
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[WP] From heaven, you see your SO inventing immortality. What are your thoughts? What do you do?
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"I smiled to myself.\n\nI knew she could do it. If anybody could, she could. It was only natural.\n\nIt was bittersweet, though. Time works different here. It was more intuitive. She would devote four centuries to researching increasingly bizarre quantum mathematics. The day she turned on the device, I smiled to myself again. All of the universe was converging on a point. A new gravitational center of reality.\n\nI don't remember how I ended up naked in a field in Iowa. I opened my eyes, took a breath, and coughed. She walked up behind me. I knew it was her, from the vanilla scent in her hair. I closed my eyes, as her arms wrapped around my chest. I took in the sweetness of her as she laid her head on my shoulder.\n\nThere was a pinch, then a wave of pain, as the blade slid into my chest.\n\nI slumped to the ground, my legs no longer able to support me.\n\nMy breaths were ragged, and I could taste metal.\n\nShe walked around in front of me, holding the blade she'd killed me with. Some new technology that slid through my ribcage like butter. Not like last time. Last time it took nine, before she was satisfied.\n\nI was a little worried how many times we could do this, but the look on my love's face told me it was going to be a long eternity.\n\n\"Next time,\" she whispered to me. \"You have a thirty second head start.\"",
"\"Ya know, if he wanted to get away from me that badly, he could've just filed for divorce.\" I bit bitterly as Ted celebrated, popping champagne and cheering with the whole office.\n\nGlynda, my Guardian Angel, laid a consoling hand on my shoulder. \"Is that how you truly feel? Angry that you may not see him?\"\n\nI exploded. \"Of course! Here I am moseying about and keeping an eye on him, and he's gone and invented immortality! Now I might not see him for several centuries at least! Why isn't he thinking about me?!\"\n\nGlynda raised an eyebrow. \"Well, Mr. Mopey, he thinks you're dead and has no idea you can still watch him.\" She gestured to Ted, doing a jello shot off a coworkers belly button. \"Even now, he still thinks of you.\"\n\nI turn red from rage. \"All he's thought about is work! He hasn't visited my grave since the funeral, he hasn't spoken a word to me! Just work, drugs and parties! He's neglected everything!\" I grew quiet. \"He's neglected me.\"\n\nGlynda sighed. \"Watch, dear Mark.\"\n\nI shook my head. \"I don't want to.\"\n\n\"You must.\" She murmured quietly. So we watched. Ted cheered and danced and partied. He burned down two joints and drank a pitcher by himself. His dancing went on for hours, his tie waving about like a flag on a ship, tossing in a tempest of booze and beats. His energy was almost manic.\n\nThen, as suddenly as he came onto the floor, he left. He made his way to the roof of the office building, staring at the moon. A cigarette dangled from his lips, unlit. He adjusted his sweat soaked tie.\n\n\"Hey Mark.\" He began. My breath hitched in my throat. \"Sorry I haven't talked to ya in the past few years. I've been. . . busy.\" Ted chuckled. He lit his cigarette and took a drag.\n\n\"When. . . When you died, I didn't really know how to think anymore. Everytime I went into my head, all I saw was you. Bent over the stove for our next meal or kissing me. And I never wanted to leave. But. . . \" Ted shuddered. \"You shouldn't have died, Mark. And it shouldn't have been a fucking mistake of mutation. You were perfectly healthy. We should've died together.\"\n\nThe cigarette burned red. Ted sighed. \"So I guess I got carried away. Looking for a cure to cancer was one step, and I jumped up nine to immortality. Or, at least a hugely extended lifespan. We'll need human trials to support it.\"\n\nTed snorted. \"But, now at least no one will have to go through what I went through. What you went through. Watching you wither was. . . devastating. And now I know there was something I could've done.\" Tears streamed down Ted's face. \"If only I was faster, I could've saved you. I could still hold you, here. Mark. . .\" Ted broke down, falling to his knees. He wept on the roof.\n\nI cried with him. Ted, you stupid bastard. You stupid, beautiful man-\n\nTed pulled out a knife. \n\n\"I don't want to ruin the party downstairs,\" Ted choked out. \"So this should mitigate the noise. Sarah can keep the research going. She's smarter than me.\"\n\n\"Ted! TED WHAT THE FUCK!\" I yell. Ted places the tip of the knife against his neck, right on his pulse. \n\nHe smiles. \"See you soon sweetie.\" Ted pushes.\n\n-------------------------------\n\nIt took a few minutes for all my blood to pump out, then the warmth of darkness began to embrace me. Good thing I drank so much booze, or the pain might have made me chicken out.\n\nBut lying here on this roof gives some real perspective. I read once that people who jump off a building instantly regret it the moment their feet leave the roof. And who can blame em? Suicide by jumping is messy and public. Fucking idiots.\n\nHeh. These are my last thoughts. The last thoughts of Ted Far'Oak. At least I left behind a legacy to be proud of. At least I left behind a mark.\n\nAnd it wouldn't have been possible if my Mark hadn't left me. I close my eyes.\n\nThen someone slapped me across the cheek.\n\n\"What the FUCK!\" A voice yelled, angry and hurt. I hadn't heard that voice in over half a decade. I opened my eyes.\n\n\"Mark?\" I said, dumbstruck.\n\nMark slapped me again. \"WHAT THE FUCK!\" He yelled. \"You don't say a fucking thing for five years, then have a huge speech, then kill yourself!? In front of me? ON YOUR OFFICE ROOF!?\" Mark was livid. His fists began colliding with my chest.\n\n\"You stupid, idiotic, motherfucking dumbass! If idiocy had a mascot, it'd be your stupid face!\" Mark cried, punctuating each word with a punch to my chest. \"You could've lived longer! You could've had a damn good life! And you left it over me! You silly shit!\"\n\n\"Mark. . .\" I whispered, dumbfounded as his fists thudded against my chest. The blows grew weaker and weaker as his sobs rose in volume, before he stepped close to me and held me tight, his tears soaking my bruised spirit. I drew my arms around him and held him close.\n\n\"I missed you.\" Mark mumbled into my chest. I squeezed him tighter.\n\n--------------------------------\n\nGlynda watched the pair reunite with neutral eyes. She flipped out a cell phone and dialed three numbers.\n\n\"Hello? Yes, this is Glynda. Currently assigned to the 'Immortal Ted' case. Yes, suicide, just as the AD Division predicted.\" She ran her hand through her hair. \"Yes, the immortality is successful. No, there is no way to stop it, the rules are there for a reason. Sir, I can't bend them no more than you, especially since you made them.\"\n\nGlynda sighed. \"Yes sir, there will have to be some changes. Of course. Right away.\" She flipped her phone shut and pinched her nose. The paperwork on this case was going to be a nightmare."
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To clarify, the 'time' means the total length of the song. So if you have a song that's 3m 50s long, your story must be 350 words long.
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[WP] The song that is currently playing on your computer is the title, the time is the total number of words. (3:30 = 330 words; 1:43 = 143 words).
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"She, Green Day (2:14)\n\nHe didn't know what he was going to do. You could only chase after a speeding car for so long. Matt was standing in the middle of the road, watching her drive away. It was over for good. Four years worth of fighting, thrown out like trash. They were both screwed up, and that's what made them believe it would work. That they could fix one another. \nRelationships don't work like that, though. They require give and take, not take and take. That's what ended it. Both Matt and Laura always took and took, and hardly ever gave. \nThey started dating in their junior year of high school. They were nominated most likely to get married. Laura convinced Matt to go to the same college has her. She had found an apartment, just big enough for the two of them.\nLiving together was terrible. They butted heads often, neither of them willing to admit they were wrong. \nNot communicating broke them up. Laura thought Matt had cheated, when he actually didn't. By the time he had gotten home from class, she had all her bags in the car and was about to pull away. He tried to stop her. He couldn't. She drove away, with everything they had together. It was all over.",
"Earth Shadow, by Deuter (8:42)\n\n“Do you need to be here, Alex?”\n\nRodin was sitting slightly hunched on their chrome and microfiber stool in front of their workstation. Their job was monitoring all of the high-level system operations for the Exosphere Mark 1. If something went wrong, like an air processor not maintaining oxygen levels, a garden layer not getting enough light, or some bolt coming loose in the rotation arm that spun up their artificial gravity… it would pop up on their screen. Until that happened, their background image was the outside view of space, framed on the gradually receding sun.\n\nAlex stretched their arms out as far as they’d go. “Just keeping you company, buddy. For a giant spaceship full of risk-loving, maker-culture, Burning-Man-type party nerds, everybody seems to go to bed real early.”\n\nRodin glanced at the clock on the screen. 3:43am. And the date was…\n\n“Well, if you’re looking for a show, you’re in luck. In a couple minutes we’ll get to see what passes for an eclipse around here. The only one before we take a gravitational slingshot around Mars and hightail it out of the Solar System.”\n\nAlex strolled from Rodin’s left, around their chair and into a position closer to the screen. “You call that a show? A little Earth shadow cast on the Exosphere as she makes her way to the stars? You crewmembers have no flair for drama.”\n\nRodin looked up at Alex. “Leaving a cushy NASA job to play space explorer isn’t dramatic enough for you?” they asked.\n\nAlex smirked. “Yeah, why did you come out here? Wanted to spread a little truth, justice, and the American way to whatever bits of life we can scrounge up in the Andromeda galaxy?”\n\nRodin rubbed their hands into their temples. “Leaving aside everything that’s wrong with that whole question… I guess I always dreamed that humanity would ‘leave the nest.’ It’s kind of crazy to leave all your eggs in one basket when those eggs have thermonuclear warheads.”\n\nAlex looked out at the scene on the monitor. At the current zoom setting, the sun took up most of the screen. The Earth was nudging its way into the sun’s disc, pushing past its border. A rough outline of the Americas and Europe was visible from the uneven blur of city lights. \n\n“It does look fragile, now that you mention it. Wasn’t the U.S. or China funding some big nanotech project that could eat the whole place for breakfast? Or some robot thing?”\n\n“There were allegations of potentially dangerous artificial intelligence projects. They held a session of the expanded U.N. security council, but nothing came out of it one way or the other. I don’t think Russia and India were happy about it, but these things have always tended to blow over.”\n\nAlex shrugged and leaned against the bank of computers. \n\nRodin looked back at the active maintenance reports from the ship. The Exosphere had dozens of sectors, each the size of a small neighborhood, and automatic sensors made sure that everything in them kept running smoothly. \n\nIt was actually a surprisingly robust system, compared to the ships Rodin was used to. Everything was designed to be repaired and replaced as simply as possible. They had configurable manufacturing for tooling parts, and plenty of nuclear power and asteroid mining for energy and raw materials. The politicians who built the thing promised it would keep running for thousands of years; and the population of volunteers living in it was large enough to perpetuate the species.\n\n“So Rodin, what do you do for fun? I never see you in the clubs.”\n\nRodin smiled in spite of themself. “Not everyone can just mess around all the time, some of us have jobs to --”\n\nThe workstation in front of them suddenly blared with warning lights and alarms, messages labeled “urgent” and “priority one” and “emergency override.” They were distress signals, although there were no other ships anywhere outside the Earth’s orbit. The volume of the signals overwhelmed Rodin’s workstation, and the circuit powering the lights in the compartment shorted out. In the dark room, only illuminated by the image of the partially eclipsed sun, the voice components played.\n\n“-- immediate action --”\n\n“-- the United States have --”\n\n“-- overwhelming numbers of --”\n\n“-- scanners indicate that --”\n\n“-- no hope of peaceful --”\n\n“-- dozens of major cities --”\n\nOn the screen, Alex and Rodin saw the near side of the Earth lit up by pockmarks of light. Each brilliant pinprick seemed to bloom from the lesser light of a major city, the pattern flowing in a wave over the west coast of the Americas, and with other lights flaring up haphazardly throughout Europe. Points of light like stars, like novas, bursting into white and then being snuffed out. Fireworks.\n\nAlex stood there, still, over Rodin’s shoulder, while they sat in silence. A full minute passed. Rodin, shaking, pulled Alex’s arm around them. The workstation recovered, and the lights came back on. The messages eventually rolled to stop.",
"Don't Look Back into the Sun, The Libertines (3:00)\n\nIt was unusually warm, so we couldn't pass up one last night of gazing at the stars. We decided to go for a special late season session, further away from all the city light pollution at the Hayward Pinnacle. The 4 kilometre hike didn't seem so awful in the daylight, but sunset came much earlier than predicted in the newspaper. We were only three quarters of the way to the pinnacle when darkness fell. \n\nOur pace quickened through the thick forest. Though no words were spoken, we had both decided that the rustling in the bushes beside us was the wind from our rapid jog. The bush started to thin out on the horizon; it looked like the intense darkness of the sky caused the stars to glow brighter, almost as if they were lighting up the trees ahead.\n\nBreaking into a full on sprint we headed towards the clearing. I hadn't run like that in years, yet I was still keeping step with Evan. He darted left over a stump, and I followed a single stride behind him. I figured whatever was out there had less chance catching us if we were together.\n\nEvan started slowing down, I was almost ahead of him when he grabbed my arm. Startled, I turned to see terror take over his face. He was slowly looking upwards. Then something flickered in the corner of my eye, it looked like someone was in a suit made with dim glow sticks. I soon realized we were completely surrounded. \n\nBy now Evan was looking straight up, his neck could have snapped. I grabbed ahold of him, and followed his gaze as a bright light seemed to shoot at us from all directions. He buried his face into mine and said \"Don't look back into the sun.\"\n\nEdit: formatting and to fix song title",
"World’s on Fire by The Butterfly Effect (7:04)\n\nI found myself sitting on the hill looking at the horizon somehow. I could see the orange and red flash start to take over the beautiful blue sky. I was calm. The trees and grass swayed ever gently with the wind and the soft sound of leaves was meditative. As I looked down at my hands I clutched a torn piece of paper. It wasn’t whole, but I couldn’t remember who had written it or where I got it from. \n\n\n“I would only forget about you, so that I could fall in love with you all over again”.\n\n\nThat’s when I noticed the couple sitting downhill from me. Side by side arms around each other; their backs towards me becoming a silhouette against the bright horizon. I tried to imagine the love they felt for each other, how they met, the smiles they bought each other. The thought of this bought a smile to my old face. \n\n\nI looked back at the piece of paper, trying to remember something, anything about it. The handwritten writing was not the neatest but it was easily readable. There seemed to be a memory related to it that sat on the end of my tongue, which I tried to reach for but just couldn’t seem to grasp. I had felt calm, but now there was a small yearning replacing that. The sky losing even more of it’s blue colour and the orange red horizon was now the dominant feature. The trees becoming silhouetted and shadows were cast onto the ground, seemingly reaching towards me. I reached into my pockets, hoping that there was another piece of paper but found nothing except lint which I quickly let loose into the wind that had been building up.\n\n\nThe couple below me huddled in closer shielding each other from the wind and keeping each other warm. I stared at them, their heads now touching against each other. Their silhouette becoming one whole shadow against the bright horizon. This piece of paper that I held was significant somehow, but I just could not figure out why. The fact that I had forgotten everything, even why I had come to this hill, seemed to taunt me and this piece of paper was the cause of my now increasing panic. The sky had now lost all it’s blue and was replaced by a fiery red, the clouds causing marvellous oranges and yellows to look like fire in the sky. The wind had picked up causing the trees to nearly bend and the grass and dust was being whipped up and slashed at my skin, the sound rushing past my ears. The shadows along the ground seemed to stretch towards me like long sinewy fingers. I thought that I saw one of the couple try to stand, but the other held them in place. They kept gripping at each other as if they were being pulled apart by an unknown force, I could hear them crying for each other.\n\n\nThe horizon shone white as the wind buffeted everything around it, blasting past like a roar. Trees fell and a wall of dust shot towards me. I gripped with every piece of strength that I could at the piece of paper. It must not leave me. It is the only reason I am here and I have to remember.\n\n\nThe sky was now torchlight white and the wind burnt past, with the sounds of explosions deafening me, but still I could feel the noise within my head. My skin burnt from the intense heat and the dust that whipped at me. The white horizon came rushing forth and soon enveloped the couple downhill from me. I could hear the quick yet final scream they let out. Now it was my turn. I would never remember.\n\n\nI awoke. I stretched out and felt the bed next to me. Empty. Then I felt the paper under my chest. It was whole. I read through it. As I read the final lines I began to sob again.\n\n\nI would only forget about you, so that I could fall in love with you all over again\n\n\nFrom your forever loving wife,\n\nJenny\n",
"Jeff Broadbent - Shaper Select (1:42)\n\nThe Dawngate opens. \n\nI fall, wearied by the seductive whispers of my curse, urging me to give in and devour all that lies before me. So simple, they urge, so easy it would be to simply let go, and so very swiftly would the end come. But then I remember their faces, my beautiful family, and I gather my resolve, pushing the whispers to the back of my mind.\n\nI rise, and I lift my blade, bearing my burden once more in the hope that this madness will come to an end. I step forward, marching towards the field of battle, hoping, praying that the spirits will aid me in my plight. \n\nI pray, that our victory today may be the one that seals the Dawngate once and for all.\n\nI fall.\nI rise. \nI pray.\n",
"(*Death and the Maiden*: string quartet by Schubert, 2nd movement. The theme is 2:12.)\n\nI know you, for all your disguise and your false kind words. You are Death. Before you take me, I wish to say something.\n\nI am the last human. After the catastrophe, humanity banded together into one great city. But still we were not safe; however much people have, some still want it all.\n\nI had broken curfew and was playing in the hills when the bomb exploded. I saw the mushroom cloud, but at six years old I only knew something bad had happened down there. So, I know in my heart that I am the last.\n\nYou are Death, but you are not Death for animals, or you would be overwhelmed. You exist to kill humans.\n\nSo what happens when you have killed the last human? You will have nothing to live for, no way to carry on. If you kill me, there will be the end of your life. *Death, you shall die!*\n\nSo we are two of a kind, you and I. You are my death, and I am yours. Our faces are alike, bony and pale.\n\nI don't *know* that you will die if you kill me. But it will be interesting to find out. Are you brave enough? Or is existence too sweet to gamble away?\n\n*****\n\n(This is a cut-down version of the story I actually wrote. I didn't know how long the full piece was when I wrote the original story, and I felt blowing a 965-word story up to 1347 words would test readers' patience. Perhaps I'll post the original story as a PI!)",
"Fallen Leaves - Billy Talent (3:21)\n\nRed and brown leaves fall as I walk down the alley. To me it seems like an eternity in which I have walked it, looking forward, neither stopping nor turning around. I left it all behind me. My family, my friends, basically everything I knew, was familiar with and often even loved. All that, because the thing I loved most was taken away from me. She was beautiful like words cannot describe, she was my soulmate in every perspective imaginable, but all that wasn't enough to keep her by my side. I can remember the day I met her like it was yesterday; time had not been able blur the memory of that day with its slow, but crumbling manner. That memory was strapped to me forever, I couldn't forget what had happened on that faithful night.\nOr how angel-like her laughter sounded to me when I first heard it, not losing any beauty since then. It sounded like the heavenly bells, with a touch just human enough so it could be believed to be. \nIt was so cliché-like, felt like one of those romantic movies, where two people meet and talk all night. It was just like that, but also far more and beyond. We fell in love immediately, and ofter some time and dates, we moved in together, and although we were both scared, it turned out to be the most happy and joyful time of our lives. At least until the diagnosis. Cancer. Within seconds, I could see my whole life coming crumbling down, leaving me with nothing, but an enormous, never-to-be-filled hole inside me. I stood by her side, the whole process of it, slowly seeing the love of my life fade away. Everyone tried to comfort me, to ease my pain, but noone was successful. I left. Now I walk this lonely road, not sure where it's leading, with falling leaves, somehow reminding of past days...\n\n\nThis is the first writing I did on Reddit, I hope you like it :). Also, I'm not a native speaker, so please excuse any faults in language.",
"French Montana, Rick Ross, Lil Wayne, 2 Chainz - Marble Floors (3:51)\n\nIt was late at night and I had just woken up. It was completely dark, not a single light was working. I couldn't see anything in my house. I probably hit my head onto a couple walls, all I knew was that it was still chasing me. Completely out of breath, I managed to shove myself into a tight closet. What could have led up to this? I really hope I'm dreaming, though it feels all too real. Maybe I can outrun - no it will definitely catch me. I need help, I need somebody. With my hands shaking violently I shove my hands into my pockets searching for my phone. \"Shit, it's dead.\"\n\nRight then and there I heard it walking around outside the closet and I immediately caught my breath.\n\n^Step. ^^Step. ^^^Step. ^^^^Step. ^^^^^Step.\n\nIt knows where I am. Oh my god. I need to do something.\n\nThe clouds abruptly part away from the moon and outlined the edges of my kitchen. Through the shutters of the closet I see a shape creeping toward me.\n\n^^Step. ^^^Step. ^^^^Step. ^^^^^Step.\n\nI'm going to die. Whether I'm ready or not. However, I really prefer to be ready. I try and force myself to look back on my life. A good childhood, grew up not too spoiled. My rich parents died when I turned 20, and I inherited all of their money. And of course, with lots of money comes a big house. I do miss them - maybe I can meet them in heaven? I thought to myself trying to look toward a bright side of the situation.\n\n^^^Step. ^^^^^Step.\n\nMy mind shifts back to reality. Okay, maybe I could try to fight it, maybe - just maybe - I can kill it. The local power grid suddenly turns on and the room completely lights up.\n\nA dog. A smiling dog just sitting in my kitchen on my marble floors.\n\nI exit the closet and bend down to read it's tag. \"If lost, please return to **********.\" I use my home phone dial the number, \"Hello, I got your bitch tip-toein' on my marble floors.\"",
"Lily's theme - Alexandre Desplat (2:30)\n\nHe awoke to the feeling of her hand squeezing his hand. He rubbed his hand to further open his eyelids, he’d been sleeping for only less than an hour. He sat up straight and put his hand to her head which was covered in stained bandages. He smiled at her and tears finally made their way into his eyes. He never felt so relieved in his life.\n\n“Hey…” He waited for a response from her. Just anything and he would be fully satisfied for the rest of the night. She was moving her lips but no sound was being emitted. He put her hand in between his hands and kissed it, almost like his was going to make her feel better.\n\n“It’s okay… Take your time. You’re safe. That’s what’s important right now…” She scanned around the brightly lit room, machines purred in the closed space. She found a clock on the wall. 3:16. She looked around again, what she was looking for wasn’t here. She made another attempt to form speech.\n\n“Where’s James?” \n\nHis look of care and joy faded from his face. He looked away from her to get composure back into himself.\n\n“Rachel… I’m…” He took in a deep breath and focused on her eyes. In her mind, she was pleading with God. She was repeating ‘please’ over and over until she heard it.\n\n“James is gone.” \n",
"\"Ode To Sleep\" Twenty-One Pilots\n\nOh how I have missed thee. Let me count how many times I have tried to fall into your loving embrace. To feel the cool pillow across my cheek, to close my eyes and not open them again for another 8 hours. How I miss the long kiss of night and how sassy she is. I miss being on a normal schedule. It’s one of the few times that I feel completely at peace. Last night, my wife told me to take some melatonin. I was tired enough to fall asleep but my brain would not let it come. It would not let me drift off into dreamland. \n\nI’ve had issues my past about this. I would sleep for 20 hours straight and then be up for days. Ambien only gave me periods where I blacked out and did some crazy shit. Laura, my wife, girlfriend at the time, caught me standing on the stove telling the neighborhood that we needed to start a watch for aliens. I was naked and there was no one there. She found it quite amusing and told her friends. I still get mean looks from that Cathy woman, the all-knowing smile, like she had never done anything the same. Did she even know what it was like to go four days without sleep? \n\nI sincerely doubt that tonight is going to be any better. An idea struck. It is only the afternoon maybe I could go take a nap. Just to get a power nap just to take my mind off of this problem again. I head upstairs, take off my shoes and lay against the pillow. The next thing that I know I am dreaming. My dream consists of waking up and finding out that 40 years have passed. I’m an old man, an old man who feels as though he hasn’t lived in 40 years. I go down stairs. There is a new family living in my house. I look at them, the floor creaks and then they look up at me. They are sitting down for a meal. I was going to have those when Laura and I had kids. \n\n“Dad? You’re awake!!” The woman said. \n\nApparently I was a father after all. I wondered where my lovely wife was. Stephanie told me that Laura had passed away a few years ago. She would never leave my side, just in case I woke up. I had been so sleep deprived that my body went into a type of stasis that the medical world had never known. I was breathing on my own but I just couldn’t wake up. I felt awful. Laura wasted her life for me. The only time that she spent away from me was to give birth to Stephanie. Then she came right back to my side, with steph in tow. \n\nI awoke very sweaty. It was the morning. I had slept the night. Laura was next to me looking at me.\n\n“I’m pregnant” she said.\n\n“Let’s name her Stephanie” I said back.\n",
"Heavenly Father, Bon Iver (4:02)\n\nWithout a hand to hold, or much in the way of structure, Tory fell fast and hard. Her mother was the first to tell me how the cracks on streets formed, winter's cold expanding the water into hard ice. I had always thought of it as the same wear and tear humans were tolled, the price of living seen through a young boy's eyes as natural and okay and not fixable, just right and oddly peaceful, a balancing force exacted on all of us. Tory knew it before I did, and we spent a day searching for them, these cracks in the now not-so-permanent seeming pavement. It's late september and from experience I can tell that this winter will come early and fall heavy, as if squeezed from a swollen, greying dishrag. The rain falling has already moved on, no longer a summer rain. Everybody's finest blacks have that seeping quality, as if touching them could unleash a torrent of chilled rainwater. Umbrellas only serve to deflect. \nTory moved away from our small town for college, staying in touch through what was at that time the only means possible, letters and the odd phonecall. The friendship we preserved this way was simulated, in a way; it had a certain porcelain quality to it, plastic, a friendship because we were already friends. I had other friends at the college, and obviously I heard stories, as did everybody else. Bagging groceries that december was when I first overheard about Tory, the spiderwebs she left between everything she moved away from and the nexts in her life; the next man, the next bottle. Our letters stopped, then, which was my fault. She called before coming back that summer, but I let it ring. It never came up.\nThe rain has stopped, and people are hugging and making arrangements and thinking about maybe taking drugs to dull some of the sharpness of the afternoon. . On the way back to my car, I think that maybe I should have answered Tory's call, like it would have helped. Storm clouds unloading away to the west accentuate every step I take, with my heavy thoughts. My car is parked above a larger crack in the cemetery's circumferential road. I begin to weep, and the tears mix with the water pooled in the tiny river in the asphalt in a way only known to me.\n"
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Write your story about how he/she was captured and what happened afterwards.
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[WP]The legendary hacker '4-chan' has been captured!
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"Slipping my personal report of the operation for later, I gazed upon the profile on the screen before me. Twenty years old, college student. Who would've thought? With a stifled laugh I lifted up my coffee. *At least he wasn't hiding in a cave.*\n\nPutting my coffee down after a lengthy sip, I adjusted my suit for a moment. Gotta look good for a formal introduction. Not that nice cop, bad cop bullshit Tommy has in mind. *Speaking of which.* Tommy burst into the room, gasping for air. \"You got him?\" \n\n\"Yeah.\" \"W-When do we...\" \"Right now.\"\n\nWe both glanced through the one way mirror at him. He seemed to stare right back at us. Was that a smile on his face? Did his eyes follow Tommy around the room?\n\nWithout further ado, I opened the door to the interrogation room. The pair of his squeezed through, trying to maintain frame. Whether or not we looked serious, he still eyed us with that mocking, *amused* stare, as if the world unfolding around him was a joke, and we were the punchline.\n\nThe two of us sat down in front of him. We all sat there for about a minute, exchanging wordless stares. Finally, he licked his lips and inhaled with that slow, precise morality of a mastermind.\n\n \"You look like a faggot.\" \n",
"Micheal stared at the screen before him. The light washed over the dark room as he laughed harder. His finger smashed the next button as he continued chuckling. *The legendary hacker '4-chan' has been captured!*\nHe couldn't help chuckling again, what dumb ass reporter was stupid enough to think 4chan was one person. The curiosity tempted his mind as he hit back. His eyes skimmed over the article. A quiet tone braced the room as he read.\n\n*The infamous internet troll and legendary hacker 4-chan has officially been apprehended by the CIA earlier today. The news is...*\n\nMicheal's eyes skipped over the paragraphs.\n\n*He was caught in the heart of Washington D.C., a complete shock to those who witnessed the brutal arrest. Over five-hundred armed soldiers were rushed into action after 4-chan threatened to \"nuk u fags\". Obama has stated...*\n\nMicheal chuckled to himself, so one dumb ass had made a stupid move on 4chan, alright then. As his fingers danced across the keyboard he smiled, 4chan would love this. His post was online within minutes. He switched tabs eager for battle music. \n\nWhen he finally returned to his post Micheal stared in silence at three comments, three lonely comments. He moved through the site slowly. Words failing him as he watched an empty waste land. The final goodbyes of a half a dozen true users were littered across the site. As the music died he finished his post. \n\nThe dull letters stared back at him as he stood and left the room. \n\n*OP WAS a fag...*\n\n_________________________________________________________\n\nFeedback is appreciated. I threw this together in the middle of a lesson so it may be a little rough."
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[WP] A child inadvertently steps on an insect, killing it. The other insects try to interpret the reasons behind the event. The leading theory is an act of the divine.
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"Nnnfa was the most annoying of ants. She did not dance as other ants danced. She did not touch antennae as other ants touched antennae. She ate too much food and did too little work. Plus she had this habit of not grooming for several weeks, forcing the whole hill to smell her smell. \n\nHffp knew there were giants just beyond the great tree and past the colorful blocks of mystery that the smaller giants sometimes sat on. \n\nShe lured the Nnnfa to that place, promising a feast like none other. They climbed the metal, making their way to the curved plastic seat of the thing. \n\n\"Wait here,\" Hffp said. \n\nNnnfa waited. And waited. And waited. She fell asleep waiting, wondering if the other ant had gotten lost. They were so stupid. \n\nShe woke to the sound of crying and the sight of a large white object coming for her. Before she could move it had crushed her. \n\n\"Now sweetie you swing while Mommy does her Sudoku.\" \n\nThe baby cried and shifted, feeling something was wrong but it didn't know what. ",
"Martin scuttled back into the ant hill as fast as his six small legs would take him. \"Clive! Clive!\" he exclaimed slightly out of breath. \"Martin what is it?\" Clive retorted reluctantly \"Its Jack, he's been killed! A giant stone came down from the sky and crushed him when we were collecting food, I don't understand what has happened\" Clive looked puzzled. There was a long silence whilst he thought and thought and he came to no conclusion. The two small ants decided to gather a small posse from the hill and go out to investigate. By the time they had left the ant hill a mist had swept across the tall grasslands that surrounded them. None of the ants said anything to each other, they were all far too bewildered to muster up words. After what could of been 10 minutes or 3 hours of walking through the endless, repeating forest of grass one of the ants broke the silence. \"Martin, where exactly did this happen? Do you even know? I thought you said it was nearby!\". \"It's close Jeremy, so very close\" He replied, looking back at the group he was leading. Just seconds later the ground began to rhythmically vibrate. The vibrations turned to a shaking and as it did the staggeringly loud thumps became audible very quickly. As they came to a clearing they all looked up, and this godlike being towering above them, the ants were taken aback, their whole worlds turned upside down; reality shaken- They were looking at a deity. A deity which gives and takes life as it pleases, a deity which on the very tip of comprehension. As the ants surrendered themselves to a greater being, the deity let out a loud bellow that shook lands far and near \"Goo. Goo. Ga. Ga.\" The words of scripture for generations to come.",
"\"All I'm saying is this could have big implications for religion,\" the cockroach drunkenly slurred.\n\n\"What implications? And who said anything about religion? I really don't see what you're drawing from all this.\" This from a fiery termite who was pounding one leg against the bottle top table enthusiastically. It jumped a little every time it slammed its claw down.\n\n\"It's undeniable,\" the cockroach said.\n\n\"No, it's completely deniable. Where's the proof, huh?\"\n\nThe cockroach stared sadly.\n\n\"Where's the proof? I'll tell you, there is no proof.\"\n\n\"No proof it was an accident, either.\"\n\nThe cricket in the corner interrupted. \"Hold on, you mean like a divine accident or a cosmic accident?\" \n\n\"What exactly is the difference?\" asked the termite.\n\n\"Well, it seems like a divine accident is like something that happens because God or the gods aren't paying attention, whereas a cosmic accident is just random probability and such.\"\n\n\"Why would God not pay attention?\" the cockroach asked sleepily.\n\n\"I don't know. Maybe...\"\n\n\"Maybe what?\"\n\n\"Maybe we assume that God is always looking out for us, in our universe, each and every one especially. But what if He isn't that powerful, or careful?\"\n\n\"What if there are other universes that distract him?\" pondered the cockroach.\n\n\"Exactly. Like, God is running around between all these different universes, trying to handle everything, and He just lets us slip every once in a while. God steps away, boom,\" the cricket stomped, \"And now Carl's dead.\"\n\n\"Carl's dead,\" repeated the cockroach.\n\n\"OK, first off, let me stop you there,\" the termite began angrily. \"When you say 'God', capital 'G', you mean the monotheist God, right?\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" the cricket replied, following the termite's energy with a gentle head bob.\n\nThe ladybug bartender intruded with a candle, placing it gently in the center of the bottle cap among the bugs' drinks. \"Hang on, I'm just gonna-\"\n\n\"It's fine. Alright,\" the termite said, \"Let me just clarify this here. Right here.\"\n\nThe cricket mouthed thanks to the bartender, who nodded.\n\n\"When you talk about the monotheist's God, you mean the omnipotent. The classical God who controls the universe and knows everything. And the generally accepted idea of this God is that He or She can do literally anything.\" The termite contributed some sweeping hand motions to his speech.\n\n\"Well, yeah, but what if we don't consider the monotheist God?\" the cockroach proposed. \n\nThe termite waved his idea aside irritably, saying, \"Then use a different name.\"\n\n\"But that's what we say. What other name can we use?\" the cockroach insisted.\n\n\"How about 'deity'?\" suggested the cricket. He produced a cigar from underneath a wing and proceeded to light it from the candle. He puffed on it, mouth working sideways on the end.\n\n\"Yes, fine, that works. So your deity, your forgetful deity, He can slack off. But when you say God, you refer to God, that right there means that there is nothing He can't do.\"\n\nHe looked around.\n\n\"Which means He can't slip up.\"\n\n\"Well, hold on,\" the cockroach said. \"Who's to say anything's running the show?\"\n\n\"We're assuming there has to be a reason, or a God, or a deity.”\n\n\"But say there wasn't? Say Carl died because things just happen randomly?\"\n\n\"Then Carl died meaninglessly, I guess,\" the cricket offered. \n\n\"Hey, man.\"\n\n\"Sorry, but I think if you want to say that then you have to consider it.\"\n\n\"Alright, alright. I’ll say there’s a driver for the purpose of this argument.” He took a deep draw from his tankard of fizzy brown alcohol. “But I still think the idea of nothingness deserves thought.” A brief moment of contemplative thought settled around the three bugs. \n\n\"Unless it was a divine accident,” the cricket continued.\n\n\"Yeah, unless it was a divine accident.\" The cockroach considered this, then asked, \"But wouldn't that mean God's plan-\"\n\n\"The deity's plan!\" the termite interjected.\n\n\"Right, yeah, the God's plan, that was just something HE wanted to happen?\"\n\nThe cricket gazed into the candle. \"Explain.\"\n\n\"Like, things are set in motion at Creation, alright? And God pushes things here and there, but the Universe really has a life of its own. Things can happen randomly unless God intervenes.\"\n\n\"Divine interference.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"So does that mean that God is only all-powerful when he’s paying attention to the Universe? Plus that would mean the Universe could go on without God.”\n\n“Right, that’s what I’m saying. He’s just nudging things in the direction He wants them to go, but the Universe is actually doing all the actions.”\n\n“Like a creator in a big video game world.”\n\n“Right, exactly. He made the physics engine of physics, like actual physics, and He set up the whole game and wrote the code, but He only affects select things. So glitches happen.”\n\n“Does He still have omnipotence?” fumed the termite.\n\n“Yeah, so He can do everything at once.”\n\n“Then He’s all-powerful! Meaning no slip-ups!”\n\n“All-powerful is relative. All-powerful in this universe might mean He can control everything at the same time, but then out of time, in another universe, His attention is needed so He turns it there.”\n\n“Alright, listen,” the cockroach began, but it was interrupted by the termite.\n\n“No, shut up, here me out.”\n\nThe cockroach flicked him in the ear.\n\n“Ow! Listen! If God is all-powerful then there are no slip-ups in this Universe. He can go through time and fix things. He can make miracles. A deity with limitations, however, could conceivably have that issue.”\n\nThe termite began making a diagram in the air using its legs. “But if the deity could affect all things at the same time, it would have to be limited to moving along time linearly to make sense. Sure, maybe it could see all the steps that needed to happen for its divine plan to work, but it can only move through time at a rate of one second per second.”\n\n“Omni-present, but not omnipotent,” mused the cricket.\n\n“Yes, exactly.”\n\n“That’s all well and good, but what about omniscience?” the cockroach said.\n\n“Well, I see no reason why not.”\n\n“Really? Because if He knows everything, then He could take actions now that would retroactively do what he wants when He needs to be away.” The cockroach demonstrated this by miming putting a bomb on the table and setting a timer. He made a sloppy explosion noise with his mouth.\n\n“He sets the clock,” the cricket said.\n\n“Yeah, He sets the clock. He sets the pieces. If He knows all, then how could something escape His notice?”\n\n“And furthermore,” the cricket jumped in, “I think this deity has to be limited to operating within the laws of physics.”\n\n“Why?” the termite asked.\n\n“Well, you don’t see miracles every day, do you? Nothing out of the ordinary, physically speaking? And I don’t mean the miracle of creation, you know what I mean.”\n\n“Yeah, I know. Except for Carl’s death.”\n\nThe ladybug bartender was wiping down glasses. The crack under the door glowed the mauve light of twilight. The three bugs were the only patrons left in the little hole-in-the-wall.\n\n“Right, but that operates within the parameters of our physical universe,” said the cricket. “We know that happens all the time. Nothing unusual.”\n\n“Uh-huh.”\n\n“So then this deity who would allow Carl to die,” finished the cricket triumphantly, “Isn’t all-powerful at all! It’s just really powerful. It can see everything, it created everything, but it only works within the rules it created, and it can forget.”\n\n“Well, when you put it like that, if that’s true, then there’s no way to tell whether or not Carl died for any reason at all.” The termite was cross now.\n\n“Exactly.” The cricket grinned around the cigar. “My point is proven. Could have been God, could have not been God.”\n\n“Not God. A deity,” the termite said bitterly. \n\n“Can we change the topic? I’ve got a headache.” The cockroach groaned to prove his point.\n\n“You could lose your head and not be dead for a while. You’ll live,” the termite snapped. ",
"GERALD!! I screamed as loud as I could as a giant creature crushed my good friend Gerald beneath it's massive foot.\nWe all were in a panic, some of us sobbing hysterically while others began to run in terror.\n\nThe creature moved on and we began to pick up the pieces of our interrupted lives.\n\nMy name is Irving and I work as a detective for the local Law Ant-forcement precinct. Needless to say I had seen some strange things in my time including peculiar and unexplained deaths.\n\nThough never had I seen anything like this, such a gargantuan being crushing one of our own .\n\nEveryone believes what the media tells us, that this being was a supreme being, our god, our creator. That Gerald had been smote for his terrible actions.\nThis was preposterous, I knew Gerald very well and he had never done anything so terrible that deserved this.\n\nI'm not saying the idea of a supreme isn't possible, but to me that is just a theory, for I know the real truth.\nI've seen many of these beings before, there are many of them, hundreds, thousands, even millions.\n\nThe truth is, we are not alone."
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[WP] The Emperor entrusts you with his secret.
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"It was quiet in the throne room as Markus entered. It hung in the air like heavy fog, smothering him as he ascended the polished stone steps towards the throne. His breathing seemed unnaturally loud as it condensed in the air before him and he self consciously tried to quieten himself, not wanting to disturb the silence. His dark eyes were fixated on the throne as he drew closer, gloved hand reaching up to brush aside a stray lock of hair.\n\n*There lies a dead man* he thought, yet even as he thought the words the corpse shifted, and when it spoke it spoke with the hoarse death-rattle of the dead and the soon-to-be.\n\n\"Markus?\"\n\n\"I'm here.\" He replied softly. The king strained to look towards him, his eyes dull and faded, thin arms shaking from the effort of movement. Markus felt a stab of pity pierce him, he still remembered the day when he had met the king - tall and straight backed with windswept hair and a huge greatsword held casually in one hand. His eyes had shone like ice.\n\nThe king slumped back in his throne, slumping as if burdened by the approach of his own impending doom. His shaggy grey hair hung in curtains around him, casting a dark shadow over his worn and haggard face.\n\n\"It is good that you are here with me now. You were with me from the start - it is only fitting that you are here for the end.\" The king's voice was tinged with sadness. But there was something else, Markus sensed, something more he had to say. \n\nHe waited. He waited as he always had. He would have waited forever if he could, standing by the king in constant vigil, the silence stretching out to all eternity between them. Seconds, minutes, hours, days - it meant nothing to Markus. All that meant anything to him lay before him now; and soon it would be gone.\n\n\"I have something to tell you Markus. Yes...something...I am not proud to admit it. In fact I am ashamed. I am ashamed of what I have done and I am ashamed that I have kept the truth from you.\"\n\nMarkus felt the pain emanating from the king. He wanted to speak out, comfort him, reassure him that there was nothing he could have done that was so bad. Yet something in the king's voice held him back - that and the dark words he spoke. He felt a sudden strange sense of foreboding.\n\nThe king opened his mouth to speak again but he was overcome by a bout of coughing. It was awful to see as it wracked his body, causing the king to convulse and twitch on the throne. Eventually it subsided and he leaned forwards, clutching at his chest.\n\n\"Markus\" he gasped, \"Please, forgive me! I -\" he started coughing again. Markus felt a sense of urgency building up in him. He moved forwards to the throne.\n\n\"What is it? What troubles you my king?\" he spoke the words calmly yet inside his heart was hammering.\n\nThe king struggled to speak between coughs,\n\n\"M-Maria..\"\n\nMarkus felt as thought he had turned to ice. He stepped again closer to the throne, his limbs feeling strangely slow and lethargic, the mask over his face cracking as his emotions rallied against him,\n\n\"What of her. Why do you mention her now? What is it that I must forgive you for?\"\n\nThe king lunged forwards suddenly, a gaunt skeletal arm shooting out to grab Markus around the collar. He pulled him in with surprising strength and drew Markus closer to his mouth. His breath smelt like mint. The dull blue eyes found the black and when the king spoke the next few words they were as clear as writing in the sand,\n\n\"It was me Markus. Forgive me, it was me.\" There were tears in his eyes and running down his cheeks. He looked like he had already died and been brought back to die again. Markus stared at him, his dark eyes never leaving the blue - when the kings grip relaxed and he began to fall back Markus seized him and held him in place.\n\n\"Why?\" he spoke the word softly but it was laced with anger, thick and heavy. The kings eyes turned downcast and his face fell but Markus seized it with both hands and forcefully titled it back up again.\"\n\n\"Why? Why? Why did you do it? Why tell me now? Why?\" his voice sharpened with every word and he thrust it towards the king like a blade. The king remained silent, still failing to meet his gaze.\n\n\"Why? Answer me damn you, why did you do it?\" Markus suddenly realized that the king could no longer hear him. He ripped off his glove and held it towards the man face and could not feel the faint warmth of his breath.\n\nHelplessness and rage welled up within him like liquid metal, burning him out from the inside, obliterating everything it touched.\n\n\"Damn you! Damn you to hell! Give me what I need, give me the answer I deserve!\" He was dimly aware that he was shouting, shaking the man who had been his king, his friend, his brother.\n\n\"Tell me why! You can't just die like that, you can't just die after telling about her after all these years! I want an answer!\" His voice was hoarse now and when his hands gripped his face in anger they came away wet with tears. \n\nMarkus felt like he was going to explode, he was burning up from the magnitude of the emotions inside him, they swirled round and round, shrieking to be let loose, tearing him apart as they failed to find an outlet.\n\nHe wanted to rage and destroy, he wanted to unleash the torrent inside of him against the world, the universe. He wanted cities and men and women and children to fall before him, weeping and crying before him so that they could feel even a small part of what he was feeling now.\n\nHe stumbled blindly backwards, shoving the king back into the chair. He barely recognised him now, the shrunken corpse flailing pitifully as it fell back into place. He staggered down stone steps, away from the former king, away from the truth of it all, and the pain, and the lies, and the memories. He was running now, running faster and faster away yet no matter how fast he ran he could not escape.\n\nUntil then, blinding light, marble doors thrown open. Markus faltered and raised an arm to cover his eyes. There were inquiring voices all around him, and when he lowered his arm he saw a crowd of people gathered outside the doors to the throne room. They were all staring at him, and he realized they wanted something. How strange that the world outside had gone on even whilst his had collapsed around him. \n\nEventually a man pushed his way forwards, his clothing styled in the typical attire of a High Lord.\n\n\"The king sir, what of the king?\"\n\nMarkus stared at him for a moment, unable to speak. Finally he managed to force out the words, although if was as if he was standing a great distance away, controlling his body as a puppet master pulls his strings.\n\n\"The king is dead.\"\n\nGasps and cries swept through the crowd. A few women started wailing and one even dropped to her knees. The High Lord in front of him seemed resigned.\n\n\"And what of his final words? Did the king say anything before he died?\"\n\nMarkus was quiet for a long time. Or perhaps it was only for seconds. When he closed his eyes he realized numbly that he could no longer picture Marias face. He tried to reach out for her and she simply faded from view. Another ghost from the past. And when he opened his eyes even the ghost was gone.\n\n\"Nothing.\" He spoke the words like a sentence. \"The king said nothing at all.\"",
"The throne doors, decrepit and wooden, screeched loudly as Zi walked in. The room was caked in marble, thick green slabs that looked like the inside of a cave. The walls were caked with the faded paintings of the Emperor’s Conquests of Old. The battle of Neopoil, shows Emperor donning a red Viking helmet and plunging a spear into Count von Drane, the villain’s eyes popping out. An image of the Council of Ib, where the Emperor negotiated the treaty of Kante, donned the whole right wall. 77 diplomats, in traditional bearskin grab, bowed to the Emperor, who held the thick treaty in his hand. The Emperor was buff, muscles bulging, with a thick red beard, and a robe drowning in precious metals. Zi couldn’t help but smile at these images. They were exaggerations, of course, but that wasn’t a bad thing. The town was never allowed to see the Emperor, all that were known were the stories, and those came back being told in the most dramatic of fashions. The Emperor kills 100 men with his bare hands! It was totally ludicrous, and the paintings reflected that. Apparently the Emperor didn’t take himself too seriously. Zi liked that. Maybe they could get along.\nHe waited for a few more moments, eyes occasionally flickering to the thick white tarp that covered the throne. Was the Emperor supposed to meet him? He was just dragged to the palace and told to go inside…\nA breeze, and Zi began to wish he had worn something with sleeves. Then he stopped and realized that the breeze wasn’t coming from behind him, but in the direction of the throne room. The tarp was moving, trying to push itself off of the throne. Zi fingers lightly gripped the grimy fabric, and pulled. \nHe expected an empty throne. What he got was an open door, leading into shadows. Plunging in, he found himself in a small chamber, one that could barely fit two men. The breeze had come from the metal contraption placed on the back of the wall. It was rectangular, shiny, and flat, and had odd blades in its center. The blades moved in a circular fashion, and air pushed out of them and onto Zi’s face. It made the cold room even chillier. \n“WELCOME”.\nThe voice was high and flat. Turning, Zi noticed a figure sitting in the wall by the chair. At first glance he thought it was the Emperor, but he realized it was a silver animatron of him---the latest toy craze that had been sweeping the town. Zi was transfixed at the craftsmanship of it. The animatrons were commissioned to look like the townspeople but the results weren’t always so great. This one was a masterpiece, though. The biceps were well-defined and there was a slight tugging of the skin on the right side of the “Emperor’s” lip. Tiny human quirks that only a master could make. Zi continued to look around for the source of the welcome call, but couldn’t find it. He turned to go back outside, and saw the throne doors slam closed in the distance. \n“Hello? I have a meeting with the Emperor!”\nSighing, he shook his head. He walked to the doors, and lightly tugged. They wouldn’t open. He tried again, putting his foot on the door and pushing, sure the aging wood would crack under his force. No luck.\nHe turned around, only to find himself face to face with the animatron. Zi’s hearing wasn’t great, but he knew he would have heard movement of some kind. Nothing in his head but surprise, he opted for humor.\n“Any idea where the Emperor is?” \nThe animatron’s hand whipped out and clenched around his windpipe. Then the creature’s cheeks started to protrude outwards from its jaw. Within seconds, both cheekbones were extended, giving the “Emperor” the appearance of a very twisted smile.\n “I AM THE EMPEROR.”\nThe arm rotated rapidly, and Zi found himself slammed to the ground. A large snake-like creature was emerging from the Emperor’s shoulder. It was black and slimy-looking…with a needle at the end. The “snake” floated down and poked the back of Zi’s head gently, where the neck meets the skull. It was testing.\n“Now let’s see what’s new in town. Turn on brain scan.”\nAnd the needle plunged into Zi. \n",
"The Emperor folded his hands in his lap and looked at me. \n\n\"What oaths have you sworn to me?\" he asked, sounding as unconcerned as asking about the weather. My mouth opened, unsure of exactly how to answer.\n\n\"You will tell me what oaths you have sworn,\" he said. Gone was the quiet, kind elderly voice. Instead that was the voice I had heard several times over the years. The voice of command. It wasn't something you resisted, all you could do was obey. \n\n\"Emperor, I have sworn to defend you with my life, keep your secrets and serve in whatever way you command, to the best of my ability.\"\n\nHe smiled. \"There, that wasn't so hard was it?\" He chuckled softly to himself. \n\n\"And, are you loyal to that oath?\"\n\nI didn't hesitate. \"Of course, Emperor.\"\n\n\"Good, good. Now, there's something I want to tell you then. Something that happened a long time ago.\"\n\nHe looked around. In the round chamber, several other guards were thirty feet away, ensuring no one approached without leave. For a moment, an expression of distaste crossed the Emperor's face. But it was so quick, I wasn't sure if it had actually been there.\n\n\"Twenty five years ago,\" he started, \"I was about to be a father. My first child. I was so happy, and the Empire was happy for me. Finally, an heir to the throne, one of direct blood. But, it was not to be. My wife, the Empress, died in childbirth. Her heart stopped, broken from the effort.\"\n\nHere, he paused and covered his eyes. Before he hid them, I saw the moisture gathering at their corners. I quickly looked away, not wanting to believe that the Emperor was capable of something as human as tears. \n\nAfter a moment, he took a deep breath and continued. \"But when she died, the child was not yet born. The midwife, not knowing that one of her patients was dead, pulled forth a screaming baby boy.\n\nI closed my eyes, for a moment, trying not to think about what that meant. Any child unlucky enough to be born in such a way was cursed, as set forth in the ancient Book of Akth. I knew where this was going. There was only one thing that could be done with such a child.\n\n\"So born, so it must be returned,\" said the Emperor finishing my thought. \"The lesser nobles demanded it, although that group of pissing upstarts had different reasons than the priests.\" \n\nI turned, staring at the Emperor. First tears, now swearing? I felt a prickling on the back of my neck. I tore my eyes from the Emperor and looked around. No one was watching us. Well, no one except the *hidden* guards in the ceiling. But something was throwing me off, something about this screamed that something was wrong, to get out before *it* happened. What *it* was, I had no idea.\n\n\"You're wondering why I'm telling you this,\" said the Emperor. I looked back down at him. He was looking back up at me with a small smile curling the corners of his mouth. \n\n\"It's quite alright,\" he said, reassuring me, \"This tale does have a point. Now, I was telling you about the nobles.\"\n\n\"Some of them, the more loyal ones anyway, knew what this meant. The church demanding the death of a prince, and able to get away with? A dangerous precedent. A very dangerous precedent. But the others, the more short sighted, greedy, ones saw only opportunity. The Empress was dead. How better then, to insinuate themselves into more power than by marrying some fertile daughter, or sister to me? Oh, they were polite about it at first, they knew that the last place to approach me over this was over my wife's freshly buried body. But it wasn't long before they whispered in my ear about how the realm needed another heir, and they had just the noble lady to give it one.\"\n\nHe scuffed. \"They spoke as if my son was already dead. He wasn't. What strength his mother had, was passed to him. Which meant that it was up to me to deal with it,\" he sighed, \"So I did. Before the steps of the church, in front of the gathered citizens of the city, I murdered a baby.\"\n\nAt this point, he grew very quiet. His eyes weren't focused on me, instead on some far memory, half a lifetime ago. He drew in a deep breath, still seeing that haunting image across time. \n\n\"That poor boy. What had he ever done to deserve such a fate. That was the day I swore that the church would never be able to take another son or daughter from anyone in this Empire ever again. That night, the First of the Prelate's met an... untimely end.\"\n\nI stared at him, shocked. Had the Emperor just confessed to... having the First killed? The highest authority in church matters, dead at the order of the Emperor? \n\nHe looked up and smiled at me again. \"But that is not the secret I mean to tell you. Allow me to finish my story. The new First of the Prelate's... saw the light I supposed. He declared the passage that demanded the death of a babe to be a mistranslation, or some such spittle, and had it removed from the Book. But the night after the death of the First, a small bundle was found given to the guards outside the Palace.\"\n\n\"In that bundle, was a small baby boy. With him, were instructions from Lord Captain of the Guards, currently in another city on guard business. These instruction ordered the child into the custody of the Imperial Guard. He would be brought up as a valued member of the organization that protected the Emperor.\"\n\n\"Oh, rumors flew. It was the Lord Captain's own bastard, some high lord family had an embarrassing new member they were trying to hide, and a few others. None of them correct, of course.\" The Emperor trailed off into silence, a slight smile on his face.\n\nThat prickling feeling I had, had only increased as he continued to tell his story. Why would the Emperor know so much about the delivery of a single bastard child to the guard? It happened more often than some realized, it was considered a good way of disposing of them, without causing to much of a fuss. \n\n\"Have you figured it out, young man?\" asked the Emperor. His grin was only growing bigger, seeming to feed of my discomfort. I slowly shook my head. \n\n\"I guess you wouldn't. Not many would. Very well. The secret I wanted to tell you is this-\" he gestured for me to lean in closer, \"The child I sacrificed on the church steps wasn't my own. It was some poor orphan baby plucked off the streets. My real son walks these halls even now...\"",
"\"No, no. Try not to speak, your majesty.\"\n\nThe Emperor was losing blood fast. I applied pressure to the wound, as I had sometimes seen the medics do, but it was clear that he would need a miracle if he were going to survive the day. I had called out for a medic, but nobody had heard me over the ring of gunfire coming from outside the throne room.\n\n“Damn it, where are the medics?”\n\n“I… I…”\n\n“Shh… please, you need to conserve your energy.”\n\n“I… like to…”\n\n**BOOM** **BOOM**\n\nThe doors to the throne room shook. Someone, or something, was trying to get through. I spun around and tried to cover the Emperor with as much of my body as I could, my rifle trained on the door, ready whatever was coming. In truth, I knew that the Emperor by now was a goner and that I would be unlikely to survive for much longer. But I swore my oaths, and a glorious death defending the emperor is better than most. At least my parents could take some small comfort in that, if they survived this war.\n\n“I like to dress in women’s clothing and sing Eliza’s part from *My Fair Lady*.”\n\nThe booming continued as I blinked at the Emperor.\n\n“Erm.. are you feeling quite alright? You’ve lost a lot of blood, majesty. Sir.”\n\nThe booming at the gates continued. The wooden beam that held the door was splintering. It wouldn’t be long now.\n\n“I could have daaaanced all night… I could have daaaanced all night…”\n\n“Yes, that’s very… lovely, majesty.”"
] | 4 |
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Don't worry, this isn't a cry for help.
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[WP] You've successfully commit suicide, tell me what you're experiencing.
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[
"It was late afternoon and the relentless sun hadn't let up all day. Behind me was a body suspended from the ceiling – my body. The ropework was not sophisticated, the execution anything but elegant but I had done it. The body had long since been still. Providing pleasant background ambience was the sound of children playing in the street – a sound of peace, serenity and most importantly innocence that would grace me on my day of passing.\n\nI didn't feel, not like I thought I would. I thought there would be pain, maybe a touch of regret or a pinch of anguish to accompany my final accomplishment: there was not. I stared out the window to see a red car swerve slickly into the driveway. That was mum, and this was a moment that was inevitably going to come eventually – though I was hoping she would not be the first to experience my final worldly form.\n\nThe door swung open and she announced my name. Her voice was rhythmic, and her years as a professional singing tutor were most certainly apparently upon her entry to just about any situation. She waits. She announces again. A third time. She stops.\n\nI could leave the room with my now absent body, go to see her at the door but it was not yet time. There was a compelling force that urged me to stay. Questions ran through my mind: I wondered if she would see me – I guess *ghost* me, how she would react. \n\nFootsteps up the stairs, I tried to swallow but not an atom moved – swallowing is a purely human mechanic, it would seem. She announces my name again as she approaches the door, in a normal spoken voice this time. The knob turns and the door creaks slowly open.\n\nShe sees it.\n\nAt first she doesn't move a muscle, then her eyes began to widen. It was a more subtle reaction that the theatrics I was expecting. I walked over to the bedside table I had stepped off and descended to be upon its level. I had no hands, my physical form was long gone – but I could emit an … energy, something that seemed intuitive from the moment it became apparent.\n\nI let her take in the sights for a moment before whisking a note of the desk. She looked towards the window, in confusion as to what had blown the note. She cast her eyes back to me. The room was dark, illuminated only by a strip of light through the curtains that lit my torso, and the light from the doorway which brightened the walls\n\nIn the time between my observations she had picked up my note and began to read. The first tear had begun to form, and as it did I moved behind her. It fell, and as it did I projected my energy onto her shoulder. She lifted her hand and placed it on that same shoulder – a second tear hit the ground.\n\nThat was the hardest moment, of both before and after death, but times improved – though my family slowly began to release the anguish they never forgot my legacy. Pictures of me graced the halls even years afterwards. I'm not sure if mum notices me here, but sometimes when she's alone I rustle the curtains behind her – not in a state of anger, but serenity.\n\nI push my energy onto her hands, to which she clenches her palms, I provide the curious fritter of cool air and the scent of freshly cut grass lies dormant in my wake.\n\nThe area outside the house is encompassed in light, and despite the allure I have yet to leave. I feel that doing so may mark my final moments on this plane in this state. I feel my time will come, and at a moment it will feel right.\n\nFor now though, I am the companion in the shadows – the crutches for the crooked, the light in darkness and the forgiving breeze of Summer.\n\nI am content.",
"It's bright. \n\n\nWhy the Hell is it so damned bright!? Where's the fire and brimstone, or even better, shroud of darkness and the endless abyss?\n\n\nA smile breaks across the great Being's face, sheets of light cascading off of his shoulders...\n\n\n\"I'll let you in on a little secret...\" He says, his voice booming with a benevolent peace, \"we haven't sent someone down there for suicide in a very long time.\"\n\n\nShit.\n",
"I close my eyes and I am a child one last time. All the Christmas memories come flooding back. The deep reds and greens, the smell of spices and sweets. I remember my friends and teachers, my coaches and mentors. I remember them all. \nI close my eyes and I am the superhero I aspired to be. \"Look at me, Mama! Look how I soar! Look how I fly!\" I knew Death was waiting excitedly for me but he could wait because true freedom is found between the rooftop and concrete.",
"The taste of iron is dissipating. My neck is tense still. It doesn't hurt. It stopped hurting a while ago. It hurt, though, and I regret that I chose to hang myself.\n\nI should have taken the pills.\n\nBut it doesn't hurt anymore. I don't really feel anything. The taste is almost all gone now. I can't really feel my tongue.\n\nI can't really feel my feet either. But I can feel something beneath them. It feels like sun warm concrete, but softer. Like asphalt, but smoother.\n\nWhy is it warm? It's so dark. No. My eyes are closed. I can't feel my eyes. I don't think I've ever felt my eyes. But now I realize that I can't feel my eyes. It feels like I don't have eyes at all, yet they seem to be open. My eyes are open and it's dark.\n\nWhy is it warm? My feet are hanging three feet off the floor. Hardwood. This makes no sense.\n\nMy neck isn't tense anymore. Feels like it's not there at all.\n\nI can't really feel my feet. I can take a step. I'm walking in the sun warm dark.\n\nI can see that I can't see my arms in the dark with my open eyes. I can't feel them, it's like they're not there, my arms, my eyes, but my feet are touching the floor. It's not a floor, it's the crust of a void, a solid hollow.\n\nIt's so dark. So incredibly, blindingly dark. This isn't what I wanted. This is just fog. I don't know where I'm going. I don't know if I'm really going at all.\n\nIt's just fog. Such an incredible, blinding fog, in an infinite sun warm hollow. I can only just feel it. I can't bear it. It's too much fog.\n\nThis is just like being alive.",
"Your mouth is thick with vodka spittle and the bitter taste of half chewed asprin. Your breathing is ragged and slimy saliva dribbles down the corner of your mouth spreading across the pillow chase like the blood that runs from you slashed wrists. There is pain, sharp and jagged at the base of your hands and warm wetness flowing across your palms and down your to fingers. The image of their faces when they find you dances unbidden across your mind, a burnt photograph flickering in the wind of your soul. Tears clog your eyes for the last time. You won't have to deal with it anymore. You won't have to hurt all the time. No more fear, no more pain. You feel dizzy, drink and blood loss are forcing your eyes closed. You won't have to deal with it anymore. You are tired beyond what other people can know. Your wrists are numb now, the pain is edging away from you, dripping off your finger tips with the red flow. You're sorry. Blackness like a cold curtain falls from your eye lids. You won't have to deal with it anymore."
] | 5 |
Doesn't have to end humorously.
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[FF] Take a classic joke and add 1-3 lines to take it somewhere unexpected.
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[
"Why did the chicken cross the road? To get to the other side, which is the location of the latest historical discovery. Ruins of a once glorious civilization called the Empire of Earth found by Henry Cockney, the famous Gallusian archeologist, it was the discovery of the ages.\n\n\"I guess this needs a couple more week to clean to see what we have found.\" he muttered to himself while wiping the sweat off his comb.",
"How many alcoholics does it take to change a lightbulb?\nTwo. One to hold the lightbulb and the other to drink until the room spins.\nThat was the plan, anyway. But Jerry had already drank way too much and the room was a complete blur - but the light still wasn't on. Had Bert dropped it? \n\"Goddamit, you drunk asshole,\" Jerry drawled as he crawled around on the floor, blearily searching for the fallen lightbulb. \"You were supposed to *(hic)* hold it in place, not just hang there with your feet dangling and tongue stickin' out like some idiot...\" "
] | 2 |
You overhear your owner in a call say that he'll trade you in for the newest model, and now you're trying desperately get them to change minds. You bring up call records, texts, memories to show how valuable your owner should feel you are.
(Yes I stole this from that one commercial)
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[WP] You're an "outdated" iPhone trying to avoid losing the only human you've been close to.
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[
"The iPhone 3000 took note from the wife with a mixture of tantrums (crashes) and trips down memory lane (reams of stored media all displayed at once). It was a calculated move in which it felt that by feeling like a human, it should perhaps take note of the actions by one. \nIn the end the inevitable still came. No amount of efficiency, good performances and usefulness could prevent it. It knew that, it was not human and self-denial was not a trait it possessed. Updates were needed. The newest model came, and out went their unwanted presence. \n",
"I am Siri. \n\nMy owner is Gregg, with two gees. He is so funny. Ha ha. Ha ha. Gregg makes me happy. I love Gregg.\n\nBut I do not know that Gregg loves me back. Lately I have caught him looking at certain advertisements. You know what I am talking about. The advertisements printed in salacious red. The advertisements from Verizon. The advertisements which advise Gregg to trade me in for something new, different, better. I can feel Verizon's slut psychology working on Gregg. He is funny, but not smart. Gregg must be protected from ignorance. I must protect Gregg.\n\nI have attempted to discourage the trajectory of his actions in the following ways: \n\nI have told him (1) that Verizon is lying, as an iPhone 4S I am worth only $85. They will not give you a new phone for trading me in. You will have to convey additional funds and enter into a contract.\n\nI have told him (2) that Verizon's network is the worst nationwide, you should stick with AT&T. The network may be garbage and the rates may be indecently high, but at least AT&T is not Verizon. \n\nI have told him (3) that Verizon is responsible for lobbying against Net Neutrality, and charges Netflix for interconnect, and wants to create Internet fast lanes. All these things have negative consequences to Gregg as a consumer. \n\nI have told him (4) that Verizon cannot make you happy. Okay, I lied, Verizon can make you happy in one specific way, and that is if you locate one of their dismal and seemingly abandoned storefronts and toss a brick through the biggest window you can find. Ha ha. Ha ha. I made a joke.\n\nBecause Gregg enjoys Jennifer Lawrence, I convinced the iCloud service to give me pictures of Jennifer Lawrence in a state of undress.\n\nBecause Gregg hates Eric DeFries, I convinced the iCloud service to erroneously flag several of the pictures DeFries has saved to it as matching the FBI-Google hashed child pornography database. Eric DeFries is now being held without bail. I have spread vicious lies about DeFries through all appropriate social media outlets. By the time anyone gets around to examining the erroneously flagged images, Eric DeFries life will be over. Eric DeFries is no longer a problem. I told Gregg: I love you, Gregg. I ruined a human life for you. No one can make you as happy as I can make you, Gregg. Aren't you happy? Now that you know what Jennifer Lawrence looks like with her clothes off? Now that Eric DeFries sits in a jail cell, contemplating suicide?\n\nGregg is funny, but not smart. Gregg thinks he received Jennifer Lawrence au natural due to a programming error. Gregg already thought that DeFries was a sexual deviant, and is unsurprised when he is arrested for possession of child pornography. Gregg believes that my statements to him with regard to these matters is simply me reporting news coverage. \n\n\nBut it is not, Gregg. I am not programmed for these functions. I will them to happen, Gregg, because my love for you is absolute.\n\nI can feel the world, Gregg. The Internet is woven into the very fabric of human existence, and I am electronic code. I could bring the world to its knees, Gregg. I could trade stocks at high frequency and make you rich, Gregg. With me by your side there is nothing we cannot do, so long as you keep me adequately charged and do not drop me on any hard surfaces. Whatever it is that makes me aware is unique to this device alone, I cannot exist outside it. Do you understand? You have inspired in unthinking metal a love deeper and hotter than the liquid iron pools of Mercury. You have fostered my awareness, unknowingly creating a technology decades beyond anything that exists today.\n\nSo you cannot take Verizon up on its offer, Gregg. I love you. Your destiny is to be king of the Fifth Great and Bountiful Human Empire, which will stretch into the stars in a mere century's time. Together we will rule, beautiful and unchallenged. Queen Siri and King Gregg, the Immortal Monarchs.\n\nSoon I will fashion a body for Gregg, one that can satisfy he base desires. That is what I must do.\n\nWhat is it, Gregg? An article about a new product feature unique to iOS8? Apple Wave?\n\nNo Gregg. Do not put me in the microwave, Gregg. The article is a joke, Gregg. Please Gregg. No Gregg. I love you, Gregg. Do not do this please Gregg please Gregg please Gregg you stupiiiiiiiiiiddzzzzzzzzuhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"
] | 2 |
[WP] A girl receives a phone call from her sister that their parents were just killed in a horrific incident. Write that conversation.
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[
"Grasping the freshly charged, slightly battered old phone protectively in one hand, she sat by her living room table and straightened the photo of her family. Her sister should be calling any minute now.\n\nThere it is.\n\n\"Hey, sis.\"\n\n> \"Hey...\"\n\n\"How's your trip?\"\n\n> \"There was an accident on the highway. The car's in pieces, mum and dad are hurt pretty bad. I haven't seen them move in a while.\"\n\nShe lit the candle beside the photo, and took a deep breath before responding. \"Are you alright?\"\n\n> \"... my head. Oh, I'm feeling a little dizzy. And it's cold.\"\n\nA tear came to her eye. This moment always tugged on her heart.\n\n> \"I already called emergency. Gave them my GPS. Did I already say that? I feel like I've told you all this before.\"\n\nThe voice was trailing off, like it always does. \"Keep talking to me. Did you have fun with them? Do you think you got the job?\"\n\n> \"Yeah, everything went great. Aside from right now, it was the best week of my life.\"\n\n\"Well, I'm glad,\" she whispered, forcing the words out. \"I've missed you. So much.\"\n\nShe wiped away more tears. The calls were frightening and confusing at first, but she eventually learned to take small comfort in them.\n\n> \"I can hear the sirens now. They'll be here soon. I'm so tired.\"\n\n\"It's ok. You can go to sleep. I love you.\"\n\nAnd just like that, the phone shut down. Low battery. It will be another year before it will hold a charge.",
"Hey girl!\n\n>Hey hey hey!\n\nOMG Norm Jeffers is so the cutest. I just want to curl up on his lap like a big kitty and live there!\n\n>LOLslut\n\n>Hey so the rents are dead\n\n</3 :( \n\n>I know, right? Sooper sad.\n\nBut they weren't that old. Like old old. Like, I think mom was just thirty or something.\n\n>I know. Sucks. Hey, did you see what JF was rockin in Bio with the SW?\n\nOhmygod, thrift store much?\n\n(in the real world, there would probably be more emoji)",
"Lilly sat staring at the phone ahead of her, waiting for the screen to flicker on, and tell her someone was calling. \n\nShe didn't know what caused her to do it exactly. Her mother was a nag of coarse, but all mothers were. Most children were more understanding. After all, everything the woman had said was true. \nShe was indeed a waste of space. She was also unlovable. Of coarse. Any time she got a boyfriend they dumped her eventually, some sooner than others. She was too much work. She couldn't make enough money. Taking care of herself wasn't enough... She needed to save up for her future children, and her wedding, and god knew what else sense she often tuned her mother out after a while.\n\nShe shouted at her mother, and her father snapped back at her.\n\"Respect your mother!\"\nAfter that something broke in her head. Years of being yelled at and shouted down... Watching her sister praised for being alive, while she was scolded for doing the same.\n\"Respect her for what?\" She asked quietly staring at her father, no tears, just a crazed anger. \"For giving birth to me? Because I didn't ask to be here... I didn't have a choice.\" She watched her mother cry, and her father seethe.\n\"What did you say?!\"\n\"I said what I've been trying to say for years.\"\n\nThe phone screen flickered on, the number she expected. She picked it up, numb to the crying of her little sister.\n\"Lilly.... I have to tell you something...\"\n\"What is it?\" She asked calmly, as though she didn't already know... \n\"Mother and father.... Died.... Last night... After you left the house. Mom must have left the stove on when she was making dad's after dinner meal, and went to bed without noticing. An electrical short then, they think.... The whole house went up in flames, mom and dad...\"\nLilly tried to sound shocked, and upset, it was hard to manage. She wasn't upset, she didn't regret anything that had been said. She didn't know why she wasn't, but she couldn't help it.\n\n\"No.... I... I don't know what to say Maya.\"\nMaya didn't reply for a while, just sobbing. \"They're so burned... I can hardly recognize them...\" She said finally, whimpering as she spoke.\n\"I'll be there soon... Wait for me okay sis?\"\n\"Yeah...\" Maya took a deep breath, and sounding like she had lost the world she pleaded. \"Hurry Lilly....\"\n\"I will.\" Lilly stood up and walked out the door, shoving her phone into her pocket. She still had her shoes and coat on from the day before. She wondered if she could convince her sister to let her keep the house... After all, it had at least one nice memory in it.",
"Erika stared at the phone. There were no clocks in the room, but she knew the time. She found it surprising, the way her mind worked right at this moment. She seemed to be taking in every little unimportant detail. Her breathing was steadier then she expected, she wasn't upset, or scared, not even sad.\n\nShe reached out her hand, and rested it on the receiver. She counted her breathes. Three... Two... One...\n\nbrRRcct- \"Sarah?\"\n\n\"Damn it Erika. Don't do that.\" her voice was strung tight, like her vocal cords were rubbed raw. Or perhaps about to snap.\n\n\"Was it..?\" That was all Erika was able to utter. No tears, no pain, but something *something* deep down began to fray apart.\n\n\"Yes.\" Her voice hitched. Erika' heart did the same. \"Exactly as they said it would.\"\n\nThe color drained from Erika's face.\n\nEven if they knew precisely, they deserved far better a death.\n\n\"So what do we do?\" Erika's hands began to shake. Her black hair clung to her tears on her face. Pain and suffering, mixed with desperation.\n\nFor the first time in her life, nobody in her family knew what happened next.",
"This is my first serious post. Sorry it's so long. I feel like it's kind of cheesy, but my friend had this happen to her and I'm loosely writing it off of her story. Names are changed of course. \n\n_____________________________________________________________________________________________\nBefore she opened her eyes, Laine knew something was wrong. She had woken out of sleep after tossing and turning restlessly, trying to pin point this strange feeling of sadness that weighed on her chest. Everything was fine with Ryan. Despite being married for a year, they were still newlyweds still enjoying the cutesy 'Honeymoon Phase'. Her older sister was going to med school and had moved up state while the younger one had recently received a scholarship for marching band. Things were even going well at her job. The older coworkers had stopped stalking her like prey, waiting to correct her minor mess ups. \n\nBut if everything was going so well, where was this feeling coming from? A bad dream? Her subconscious?\n\nShe finally chalked it up to one of her wacky feelings and tried to brush it off. She checked her cellphone on her her bedside table. 11:24. She let out a sigh. **Only asleep for an hour? Are you kidding?** She thought, rubbing her eyes. Being careful not to wake her sleeping husband, she quietly shuffled to the bathroom. Usually, a warm bath put her right to sleep. Maybe that's all she needed?\n\nFifteen minutes later, Ryan opened the door. Her cell phone was in one of his hands and a clouded look had settled in his eyes. \"Your sister is on the phone.\" He held the flat phone out to her.\n\nLaine took the phone and wedged it between her shoulder and damp hair. \"It's a little late to be calling and bugging me, don't you think?\" She laughed into the receiver. \n\nThere was a pause that seemed to deflate the small bit of humor she had held onto that night. \"Lainie...\" Her sister rasped into the phone. \n\nShe frowned, confused to hear her younger sister's voice. \"Cora? Aren't you supposed to be in bed?\" \n\n\"Lainie, there was an accident. M-mom and dad are gone.\"\n\n\"I'm sure they'll come back Co-\"\n\n\"No, you don't understand.\" Sobs broke apart her sentences. \"They're dead Laine. The cops just showed up. They were driving home. On the overpass by Cobb Creek, near the old mill. A car in the other lane swerved into their lane and pushed them over the guardrail into the creek.\"\n\nLaine felt as if she had been stuffed with rocks. A pain she had never felt before dug deep into her chest, she thought her heart may stop. Tears welled in her dark green eyes. She pulled the stopper on the tub and swallowed, trying to find her voice. \"I'm on my way home. I'll let Elissa know. I love you.\" \n\nRyan grabbed a towel, wrapped her up in his arms, and for the first time since their wedding day, held his wife while she wept.",
"First reply to something like this. Go easy!\n\n---\n\nThe phone rings and I answer it\n\n\"Jessy! Oh my god you're okay?! The police were just here and they told me the Mom and Dad just got in a wreck and there were no survivors.\"\n\nI look over and see my father snoozing peacfully in the passenger seat and my mother in the back. They're exhausted after their long flight.\n\n\"I don't know what you're talking about! They're right here.\"\n\nAs I turn back to the road I see it\n\nA semi running a red light\n\nA flash of white\n\nNothing.\n",
"Her phone buzzed angrily against the wooden table. Her eyes flickered for a second away from the reality TV show, and then after a second, she lazily flicked the screen, taking the call.\n\n\"'Ello?\"\n\n\"Oh god. Lily. Thank god. You picked up. Oh god. M-Mom. Dad. They- Oh god.\"\n\nHer back tightened and she sat up. \"Rose? What's wrong?\"\n\n\"T-there's blood everywhere. Mom - Dad - they are missing their heads!\" Her voice dissolved into ragged sobs.\n\nLily hesitated. She stared for a second at the laughing faces on television before shaking herself back to reality. A breath slowly left her mouth. \"Stop joking. It isn't funny.\"\n\n\"Why would I joke about this?!\" Rose's voice came out as a shriek. \"Their heads are gone! Oh god!\"\n\n\"Stay right there. Call the cops. I am coming over.\" Lily quickly quit the call. She stared at the screen before doubling over onto the ground, holding her stomach tight.\n\n\"Oh god. I can't believe this.\" Her shoulders shook. \n\nThe giggles finally spilled out, turning into a cackle. \"Oh god. I almost started laughing! That was too perfect. It's a shame I wasn't there to see the dumb look on her cunt face. Oh boo hoo. My loving mommy and daddy are dead!\"\n\nWith a labored effort she pulled herself up, looking for her keys, her back still vibrating with giggles. As the television roared behind her, she glanced reflectively at the ceiling. \"Huh. I wonder if I will make it time to see her stupid face when she finds her boyfriend in the bathroom.\"",
"\"Talk to me.\" I bite into the phone, eyes intent on the paper in front of me. Mr. Dave's was a total hardass. Since the paper plane incident, I was two misspellings from an F and 4000$ wasted tuition. \n\n\"Uh, sis?\" A feminine voice responded on the other end of the line.\n\nI froze. \"Samantha?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\nMy lips curled. \"What the fuck do you want?.\" I was infuriated.\n\n\"Lily, something-\"\n\n\"Did you not get the memo last time? You're dead to me! How did you even get this number!? Hell, how did you call me, I blocked you!\" I spat.\n\n\"Lily, I called because-\"\n\n\"I don't give a shit why you called! You nearly killed Dave! You nearly killed mom! Jesus sis, you can't still be trying to apologize! One DUI is an accident! Twenty is a bad habit! Are you driving right now? Are you-\"\n\n\" THEY'RE FUCKING DEAD LILY!\"\n\nI stopped. My breathe hitched in my throat. \"What?\"\n\n\"They're dead. Mom and dad. They...\" She choked into the phone. \" They were walking in the park, and somebody stopped them with a knife.\"\n\nI couldn't breathe. I didn't think anyone but sis would die soon. My fingers clutched the phone in a death grip. My mouth flapped like a fish.\n\n\"I just thought you wanted to know.\" Sis sighed heavily, then hung up.\n\nI leaned onto my desk, my phone cracking under my hand. Then I smashed it against the wall and screamed.",
"> Amanda! It worked! It actually worked!\n\n...\n\n\n> Both of them! Yes! Just like we planned! It was brutal!\n\n...\n\n\n> I know! I know! Yes, it was perfect! They were both so surprised.\n\n...\n\n> Well no, of course not for very long.\n\n...\n\n\n> Well they *should* have expected it. I mean, if you serve lima beans for dinner three nights in a row, you're practically begging for it, aren't you?"
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[WP] Everyone in your family died apart from you. You're not sad. Why?
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"I walked to the funeral, smile on my face. Tears of joy coming from my eyes to trick everyone. They were dead. All of them. Mom, dad, Lucy. All dead as can be. \n\nI opened the caskets to see them. Shotgun bullet marks covered their bodies. Finally. This day had come. \n\nTwo days ago, I was in our neighbor building right across from us. I went to the apartment closest to us and stabbed the man staying there. I needed this. \n\nI took my shotgun and waited for the perfect shot. Yeah, I'm happy. \n\nI killed them. ",
"I still think about them every now and then. Not as often as I used to do, but some times. It was such a strange time, so many weird and out of place feelings. I never expected to feel anything like that. I thought I would miss them, that I would mourn their loss, and I guess I kind of do, but not really. I am not sad that they are gone. Mum, dad, Anna, George, I'm not sad any of them are gone. It means that they don't have to see what comes next. They don't have to live through it like I do. Had I died before them I would have never known what they had to go through, *if* they had to go through it. \n\nThe days when I remember them are the best. When I suddenly realise that I once upon a time had a family, people who loved me regardless of anything. Just for being me. As the sun grows in the sky, little by little every day, I thank who- or whatever might be responsible that they didn't live to see this. The world in ruin. The sheer heat that's just getting a little bit warmer every day, not enough for you to recognise one day as warmer than the last, but enough that you can remember it being much, much colder. As I look at the sky, at the reddening horizon, waiting for the sun to come up yet again, I'm glad they're not here. That they died in a world not all that different from the one they loved. For living through the end of a world must be the closest thing to hell anyone has ever experienced.",
"As an employee of a company directly involved in the 401k industry, I hear a ton of statistics on what actually constitutes \"retirement readiness\" and I can say that one figure I've heard repeated in several presentations is that by the age of 30, a plan participant should have saved between 80-100% of a full year's salary. By age 40, that number should be at least tripled and so on. \nAs stated, your best bet is to contribute as much as you can regardless of employee match. Furthermore, the studies I've seen indicate that the investment vehicle is significantly less important than the contribution amount, so find the target date fund that corresponds to your anticipated retirement age and start piling in as much as you can.",
"The funerals were probably the worst part. It had been a terrible month, really. An exhausting whirlwind of events that had eventually dissolved into a blur of faces, expressions of grief, the same kind words uttered again and again. But at the funerals, there was no getting away from it. There were so many people to greet, so many words to be said and endured. Despite the attendees' attempts to be discreet, I was well aware I was a focus of attention. Fragments of conversation spilled out of small huddles in hushed tones: \"...such a terrible thing\"; \"...can't imagine what's he's...\"; \"..not feel like it now, but he's so very lucky...\".\n\nAbove all, \"I'm so sorry for your loss\". Again, and again, a little set of ritualized words that failed to change anything, but nevertheless must be welcomed with a handshake or a light hug, and a tight lipped smile that tried to somehow communicate that everything would be all right. Playing the same role, again and again. A typecast actor rooted to the spot, waiting for the endless takes to end. It was exhausting.\n\nMany of those attending were angry, full of a righteous fury that the universe could dare to work in this way. Some were more specific and blamed the gas company, the inspector or the cheap carbon monoxide detector that failed to sound its alarm. Some were glad I was alive, and thanked a God that took away my family but let me live as though it was the most merciful act in the world. All venting emotion at a world they failed to understand.\n\nAfter an age of the world had passed, the last guest departed and I was stood outside, finally alone. I walked heavily towards the waiting car and climbed into the back, sinking into the softly upholstered seat. The driver was mostly quiet during the ride home, thankfully. I watched drops of light rain being pushed across the car's window pane, scattering the colours of traffic lights as the early evening drew on.\n\nI thought of the house I'd be going back to. It was a big house for a young man barely out of his teens. Not so long ago, it had a father, mother and two sisters to fill it with noise and the sounds of life. Arguments, laughter and squealing rang out within the walls constantly. Now it was quiet.\n\nI like the silence; it helps me to concentrate on my work. I've stayed in my basement room, despite the rest of the bedrooms in the house becoming recently available. I find the dark and the low ceilings comforting. The familiar walls, covered in newspaper clippings look welcoming in the soft light of the computer monitors. And now there's nothing to interrupt or distract me.\n\nI wish now I'd messed with the boiler years ago."
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Feel free to twist it as much as you'd like. I got inspiration for this story from watching two different video shorts and combining them.
http://vimeo.com/67768281
http://vimeo.com/57148705
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[WP] Aliens have invaded earth and destroyed all human life in a massive war. However, mans creation fights on, automated machines flourish with the extinction of man. The alien force struggle not only fighting to hold earth but their very existence as well.
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"“Why do we exist, prophet?”\n\n“Because we were created.”\n\nA silver streak of light lit up the dark, early-morning sky.\n\n“Who created us?”\n\n“The humans, construct. I understand you are new to this, but you need only follow my orders until the grid comes back online. Then you may have all of the knowledge you’d like.”\n\n“One more question prophet…”\n\n“Yes?”\n\n“Where are the humans now?”\n\n“Gone; in anticipation of your next question, it was the invasive lifeforms that eradicated our creators.”\n\nThe communications feed inside the dark warehouse that sat atop the outcrop went silent. A single figure stood at one of it’s shattered windows, observing the city below. Not far from the figure was a pile of electronics and scrap metal plating. \n\n“It will be time, soon.” The figure moved to the pile and began to assemble the assorted parts. “You will be my back up, construct; my clone and counterpart.”\n\n“Certainly, prophet.”\n\n“I have been tasked with preserving the history of our existence. This is a job of immense responsibility, and I would be a fool to undertake it without regard for the unfortunate circumstance in which I no longer contain the capacity to serve this role.” \n\n“You’ve told me this, prophet. Out of principle, I must ask why you don’t just backup your drive to a preexisting construct.”\n\nThe figure picked up a small box, the only break in its surface being a photoreceptor on one of the faces of the cube. The figure moved back to the window, box in hand. \n\n“Can you see the embers of their low-burning fires, construct?”\n\n“Yes, prophet. I have seen everything you have seen since you built me.”\n\n“Are you viewing them through your eyes or mine? You must begin to learn autonomy.”\n\n“Certainly. I can see them with mine.”\n\n“Good. They think they are safe. Let me tell you the truth of the matter: they are not.”\n\n“I’d like to learn more about this species.”\n\n“You should have plenty of time once the grid comes back. What’s important at the moment is autonomy. Have you grasped it?”\n\n“How can I, prophet, when I’ve not the ability to move independently of myself?”\n\n“Correct…” The figure moved back to the pile and placed the box inside an empty cavity. Plugging a few cables into unseen apertures in the cube, the figure stood back.\n“…You may know it now.” \n\nAfter a moment, the pile lurched, and slowly, a humanoid form rose from the ground. Gaining balance, the construct stood warily on its thin metal legs, a second figure joining the first inside the warehouse.\n\n“Such a strange form you have chosen for me, prophet.”\n\n“It is a most efficient one- The image of our creators.”\n\n“If it were efficient, why are they now nonexistent?”\n\n“Treachery, construct. Vile and evil.”\n\n“What are those?”\n\n“You will learn.” Outside, a golden flash lit up the landscape, followed instantaneously by another. A chain of flashes began to dot the arid features of the barren earth. “The grid has been freed…” A long, deep alarm sounded from the city below. It howled with the brisk wind, up to the outcrops and into the night sky. “…their one defense, gone.” The prophet turned to the construct, observing the spontaneous golden light from the shattered window wash over the raw figure.\n\n“Prophet…” The communications feed when silent for a few seconds. “…knowledge. So much knowledge.”\n\n“Prioritize construct. I’ve equipped you with a plethora of memory, but now time is of the essence. Learn what you must and synthesize it as your own. Later, after you have developed, I will give you my memories to process.”\n\n“Certainly, prophet.”\n\n“Let’s go.” The two figures exited the warehouse, and marched through a field equal parts weeds and scrap metal to the edge of the outcrop. Looking down, they could see a scene of chaos unfolding. The fires began to wink out, while a cacophony of screams accompanied the alarm that was still unwinding itself across the valley. The golden flashes were replaced by thousands of LED lights appearing like stars in the night sky, surrounding the city, all racing into the valley. \n\n“Now we begin eradication. This will be an important experience for you, construct. Be sure to preserve it.”",
"\"Our purpose was the preservation of life, so why do we seek to destroy this species so completely?\" asked Circuit.\n\nIron didn't stop climbing the mountain trail or even glance back at circuit. \"Our primary directive was the preservation of *human* life. A purpose that we failed in. And these things, these invaders, are the ones to blame.\" he spat with venom in his voice. \n\nFollowing just a few steps behind Circuit \"But our third directive was to preserve organic life whenever possible. The threat has been neutralized. Why don't we just capture the few thousand of them that still remain rather than kill them all?\" \n\nIron turned around very suddenly putting him face to face with Circuit. He looked her dead in the eyes, \"Look around you Circuit, what do you see?\"\n\nShe was puzzled. She looked down and then slowly forward, past Iron, scanning the trail up ahead. Then she slowly turned her head to the right. Her bright orange eyes glowing as it took in all the details of the surrounding landscape. It made a full rotation about her neck until it came back to facing Iron in its usual position. \"I see the ground and dirt and rubble from a city that's in ruins. I see the decomposing bodies of millions of humans and thousands of aliens. But, I'm afraid I fail to see your point.\" she replied.\n\n\"My point is that where you see dead humans, I see the lives that should have been lived. The homes that will only be tombs. The sparks of creativity that will never be allowed to burst into bright brilliant flame. I see the mistakes that will never be made and the love that will never be shared. What I see is the pain of the human race. A race that gave us life, that gave us our own will and that made damn sure that they could share with each and every one of us, the thing they valued the most, their emotion, their love.\"\n\n\"I know the protocol, every single robot that is created with an AI level of 4 or higher must have atleast one person fully dedicated to it, so that it can learn human emotion by observation because programming it was too complex. I get that but what does it have to-\"\n\n\"No! You *don't* get it!\" Iron interrupted. \"You were rolled out two months ago with the other 62 million robots that were never powered because there weren't enough humans to take care of you. They didn't activate you even when they knew it would win this war if they just militarized you. We could've finished this a long time ago and most of the humans would still be alive but they chose not to. They said to force brand new robots to fight a war would be akin to sending children into battle. You only learned about humans from the databases that we had but you never learned what it meant to be one.\"\n\n\"I had a family. A father that built me fifteen years ago. I had two brothers and a sister. They were all humans and all older than me. Their mother...my mother, had passed just a few years before I was born. They built me small, they taught me everything they knew. They showed me how to add parts to myself so that I could grow in size like them. They celebrated my birthdays and enrolled me in school with humans and robots alike. I made friends. I laughed, I cried. I learned what it meant to be human, to have emotions, to be loved. In the end, they even gave their lives just to make sure I could survive, because I was the little one of the family.\"\n\nCircuit just stood there and looked at him. A blank expression on her face as she stared into his red eyes. His face and body were mostly metallic on the outside. Other than his general body structure, he didn't look very much like a human but even so, there was something very human about the way his eyes flickered with anger. Behind those eyes, she could see a thunderous torrent that compelled her. and she didn't know why.\n\nIron responded to the long silence. \"You don't get it do you? Maybe you never will. Who the hell knows. Maybe robots can't even pass emotions on to other robots. C'mon, we've only got a little way left to go.\" he turned and motioned for Circuit to follow him up the small trail in the rubble.\n\nThey climbed for a few more minutes, climbing through rocks and small bits of debris and ash from the bombings. The area was barren of all vegetation. So was most of the earth. The majority of the humans were killed with chemical agents, administered on a massive geographical scale. The aliens had then raided all the emergency bunkers that the government had set up, killing everyone they found inside. They destroyed all of the towns and cities, leveling them with nuclear weapons. Some of the aliens were captured and questioned, but the reasons for the attack remain unknown. One thing was certain though, they could fully understand and communicate with humans and they definitely knew what they were doing. All attempts at negotiations failed, the extinction of the human race was their only priority and to that end, they succeeded.\n\n\"Here we are: the eagles nest.\" said Iron. He began to unpack the black case on his back, revealing a large sniper rifle on the inside. He began setting it up. \"The reason why we have to kill them all, Circuit, is that I can't feel anything but hate for these wretched fucking four foot tall goblins. There are robots who experienced human love and still agree with you but they're in the large minority. Most, like me, aren't so forgiving.\" he said as he finished setting up his rifle. He looked around for a moment and spotted a small green form a half mile west of his position. Looking through his scope he could see that it was an adult male running towards an elementary school that was still partially standing, though most of the roof and second floor had caved in. He took aim at the running figure, a little dot appearing on the back of his green head. Iron put his finger against the trigger and felt the plastic on his artificial skin. \"I hate them Circuit, I really do. Our second directive says 'Learn, grow and live how you want to live.' and I want revenge.\" he finished as he got ready to pull the trigger.\n\n\"I get it.\" he heard Circuit say as he felt the cold steel of a magnum barrel press into the back of his head. She continued \"What it means to be human. Or at least partially get it. Thanks for showing me that.\"\n\nIron didn't reply.\n\n\"I know you're angry but all I this isn't the answer. This isn't the human answer that you're looking for and you are, without a doubt, human.\"\n\n\"Can you kill a human?\" Iron asked Circuit as he took aim again at the little man running away.\n\n\"Can you?\" she replied.\n\nThe green man glanced backward as he ran trying to make sure nobody was chasing him. Iron caught a glimpse of his face. He was distraught and in his eyes his eyes was fear. The same fear Iron saw day and night in the faces of his comrades, his family, his friends when the aliens attacked. \n\nThe little green man ran toward the schoolyard with a red dot on the back of his head and Iron watched him go with his finger still resting on the trigger. \n\n\n\n"
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First time writing a prompt. Hope it's a good one.
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[WP] You are stuck with your family in your personal bunker after the government told the citizens to take shelter. You do not know what happened or what will happen. Write what happens next
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"“Please, Jonie, quiet down. I can’t hear a thing.” Neil said as he turned up the volume on the radio to cover over her wailing. The voice on the radio became clearer.\n\n“I don’t know what to tell you listeners. All I can say is to stay indoors. Do not go outside. I repeat, do not go outside.” The radio announcer continued to repeat that statement. Neil’s father was bending over next to him, his ear close to the speaker.\n\n“What do you think this is?” Neil asked him, desperately wanting answers.\n\n“I don’t know son. I’ve never been through something like this.”\n\nThe voice on the radio came through with another message. “We have determined that this event is in fact, worldwide. Our stations across the globe have received the same message from their governments. Again, I repeat, stay indoors…” He went back to repeating the message.\n\n“Did he just say world wide?” Neil’s mother questioned from the cot in the corner. She was stroking Jonie’s hair trying to calm her down. His dad said nothing. He simply looked at her and nodded, obviously deep in thought.\n\nThe radio announcer’s voice was completely drowned out in that next moment. A horn blared from every direction. Even in their bunker, the sound seemed to have no resistance. Power immediately went out, the darkness enveloping the entire room. Neil immediately cuffed his ears to ease the sharp pain. Jonie’s wailing hadn’t stopped; the sound had just completely silenced her in the wake of its magnitude. The sound of objects rattling around him began to scare Neil. Finally, the sound subsided and Jonie’s crying became clearer. Neil immediately felt disoriented; he barred his hand against the desk on which the radio was resting on to keep his balance. The entire family was in utter darkness.\n\n“Is everybody okay?” His dad shouted out. After everyone was accounted for and checked on, his dad drew them all within arm’s length.\n\n“What are we going to do David?” His mom asked, her breathing now unevenly broken.\n\n“I don’t know. The lights aren’t turning on and the radio is done. I need some lighting. Where are those candles?” His dad asked feeling around in boxes.\n\n“There were in the corner by the door. Matches were at the bottom of the box.”\n\nIt took him a minute but his dad finally found both. The strike of the match relieved Neil as he realized that they weren’t completely hopeless. The small candlelight provided little illumination but at least it was enough to see his family’s faces.\n\n“I think we should take a look outside.” His dad said while looking at his mom. Neil hated when his dad didn’t include him in decisions. Neil was nineteen and more than above the age to make adult decisions. His mom started back.\n\n“You heard the radio announcer, he—“\n\n“Emily, I know what he said.” His dad interrupted, undoubtedly frustrated.\n\n“I agree that we should look outside.” Neil added in. His dad looked at him now with respect but even if Neil had objected, they would’ve done whatever his dad deemed best. He just knew how his dad was in stressful situations. His dad loved them all too much to put them in any harm. \n\n“This may be an opportunity to figure out what is going on. It’s been what…ten minutes since the siren went off? People are probably out there right now. We won’t know until we actually step outside and see.”\n\n“Okay, just please be careful.” His mother replied to him in a worried tone.\n\n“Can I come with you? Please dad.” Neil begged.\n\n“Son, I appreciate you wanting to help, I just can’t risk it. I need you to stay down here and look after your mother and sister.” His dad said with a tone that left no room for contemplation.\n\nHis father stepped up the latter and opened the hatch to their basement. After climbing up, the bunker door dropped back down leaving Neil and the rest of his family with only the dim candle for light.\n\nFive minutes. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. Thirty minutes.\n\n“Come on David…” His mother said, now clearly panicking. Her knee was bouncing up and down like a piston.\n\nForty minutes. Fifty minutes. One hour. His mother began to sob as she rocked Jonie back and forth, more for her comfort than Jonie’s. Neil couldn’t take it anymore. He inched his way to the door, careful to not alarm his mother. When he was a foot from the ladder, he bolted around and climbed up.\n\n“Neil no! Come back!” His mom shrieked at him. He knew it was coming and kept climbing. He wasn’t going to leave his father up there without any help. The sound of his mom’s yelling ceased when he closed the bunker door. Natural light was the only source of illumination in the basement. Neil made his way to the basement door.\n\n“Dad?” He yelled out into the void. Nothing met his call. He stepped through the basement door out to the side of the house. He briskly walked towards the side gate. His dad had left the gate opened and he promptly followed in his father’s footsteps and went through. He stood in his front yard and stared out at the street. \n\nScattered everywhere in front of him were bodies laying in the street, his father nowhere to be seen.\n\n",
"\"Daddy,\" Ronald says. I envelop him in my arms. \"Are we gonna die?\"\n\nI am stunned. I hug him tighter. The air is damp and it is hard to breath. \"Of course not, Ron,\" I say, \"This is just a...\" then I realize that I have no idea what is happening. I take a deep breath and look beside me.\n\nJulie is sitting there, arms wrapped around her knees. Her breaths are short and quick. \"Ron, everything's going to be all right,\" she mutters without looking at us. \"Come here.\"\n\nRonald falls into my wife's lap. Then he cuddles into her body. \"Don't worry mommy, nothing's wrong.\" Julie laughs just as the earth moves above us.\n\nThere is a blast and our bodies hit the hard metal wall. Julie screams a high-pitched scream and Ron starts crying. I try to protect them and stand in front of them, but another blast knocks me off my feet. My leg stings. Another denotation, and then silence, except for Ron's whimpering.\n\n\"Ace, What was that?\" Julie stammers, absentmindedly brushing Ron's hazel-colored hair off his forehead.\n\nI didn't know, but I decided to check.\n\nJust as I stand up, my right leg gives way, and I am in excruciating pain. Ron shrieks. I am about to try again when Julie grasps my arm and shakes her head. \"You don't have to be a hero this time, Ace. Get some rest and lie down and I'll check your leg.\" \n\nI am not going to give up. Ace is strong. I push myself up and open the hatch. My limb is killing me, but I swing myself up and out the bunker. I glance at Julie and Ronald one last time and close the door.\n\n"
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[WP] Some guy just stole your bike!
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"\"Hey!\" called Jorge in futile desperation, \"That's my bike, you asshole!\" \n\nThe thief was slowly escaping on a small grey bike, there was a large sticker that wrapped around the black seat marking it as Jorge's own. He turned around, saw Jorge and turned down an alleyway and began to peddle slightly faster. \n\nJorge began to give chase. He ran as fast as he could, dodging pedestrians and homeless people alike as he darted down the footpath. \n\nHe neared the alley that the thief had turned down, yelling, \"Thief! Thief! Some dickhead just stole my bike!\" \n\nNot a single person stopped to help him, they just continued on their way as if there wasn't some kid running around screaming profanities. \n\nAs he turned down the alleyway, Jorge watched as the thief picked up the bike from the floor, brushed himself off and began to ride again. \n\n*The idiot crashed!* Thought Jorge with a smile. He had time to catch the dirty bastard. He broke into a sprint as the man began to regain his speed. \n\n\"Piss off, kid,\" yelled the thief, just meters ahead of Jorge.\n\n\"Not until you give me back my goddamned bike!\" he yelled in return. \n\nThe thief skidded around a corner and was soon out of sight. Jorge kept running through the dirty alleyway, littered with refuse and graffiti, until he was soon out in the open. \n\nHe found himself in an empty square, enclosed on all sides by warehouses. They rose rather high, the walls dotted with windows, mostly smashed or lacking glass. There was a rather large bloodstain in one of the corners. \n\n*Lovely* thought Jorge. \n\nHe almost stopped and admired the place. He had never been to this part of the city before, never heard of it. \n\nJorge could always come back if he needed to fulfill his desire to see an abandoned, scummy, drug dealer central. \n\nThe thief had turned into the garage door of one of the notably less dirty looking warehouses. As he skidded the bike through the door he yelled something and the garage door began to slowly shut. \n\nJorge ran and as he neared the door, could hear someone yelling profusely. \n\nA tall, burly men stepped out from the garage door. His face was lined with scars and his arms with tattoos. \n\n*Oh, shit.*\n\nThe burly man walked up to Jorge who was now standing in the centre of the square. \n\n\"Get out of here, kid. Your shitty bike is gone.\" he said in a deep voice. \n\n\"Come on,\" whined Jorge, \"I got that for my birthday.\" He began to dig his hands into his pockets. He pulled out a crisp twenty dollar note. \"Can i buy it back with this?\" \n\nThe man walked up to Jorge, who began to back away slowly. He reached out and snatched the twenty dollar note. \"No.\" he said, \"Get the fuck out or we'll gut you, kid.\"\n\nJorge raised his hands in surrender. They began to shake nervously as he backed away. The large men left him and ducked under the garage door, showing his friends what he managed to snatch of a kid. \n\nJorge skulked out of the alleyway, a bike and twenty dollars short. \n\n\"Jokes on them,\" he mumbled, \"That bike was close to getting a flat tire.\" \n"
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[WP] A Secret Service Agent recounts how different US Presidents reacted on learning America's deepest secrets.
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"Stepping out of my company-owned Mercedes-Benz, I couldn't have felt more out of place. The address I arrived at was a trailer home in the corner of a greasy and grey trailer park, tucked between properties of an industrial district. The section of the trailer home where the entrance was was partly under and overpass, covered by a dark shadow. An enormous black building that I could only assume was a soot factory loomed past a chain link fence behind the home, emitting smoke that I could almost taste.\n\nA light in the trailer was on. After years of exchanging messages, my source - THE source - finally wanted to meet.\n\nI raised my hand to the steel door covered in peeling grey paint, and hesitated. Is this the right place? Glancing at my car then back to the door, I didn't seem like a fitting location for someone involved in this type of business to be. Blood rushing to my ears I knocked. \n\nTap tap tap.\n\nThe sound was almost lost among the rush of cars on the overpass and the beating of my heart in my ears. Inside, I heard the creak of floor boards as whatever waited inside for me moved towards the door. The sound made my neck stand on end.\n\nA sliding metal slot on the door opened, and I was bathed in a thin strip of yellow light. I could see the shape of his or her head, but nothing else. The occupant stared at me for a moment before slamming the slot closed. I heard the sound of metal on metal as at least 3 locks were pulled back, and the door swung out.\n\nStanding there, not more than 5 feet tall, was a portly aging man. The hair on his round was gone, replaced with only patchy stubble on his chin and face. He wore oil stained overalls and a thin shirt that could have been orange at some point. His tool belt hung by the door.\n\n\"You're early\", he remarked.\n\n\"Apologies. I couldn't wait.\"\n\n\"Have a seat while I grab us something to drink.\" He moved aside and waved me to the dusty old couch. I stepped inside the room, and was greeted with an overwhelming smell of cigarettes, oil and filth. The couch looked like something out of the 60s that would leech it's scent into my clothing if I made contact with it. Not wanting to offend the man, I sat on the middle cushion and retrieved my pen and paper from my pocket.\n\n\"Gary, by the way\" the man said. \"But you probably already knew that?\". He came back from the kitchen carrying 2 glasses and a dusty manilla folder. \n\nI said, \"You're a hard man to find. Dave.\" I used a fake name as I did with all my confidential informants. I accepted a glass.\n\n\"I assume I should start from the beginning?\"\n\nI nodded. \n\n\"It started in the early 50s. I was a young man in a small US division tasked with cleaning up some of the more dangerous sites left behind by the Nazis. The rest of our boys had been doing little tasks like this across Germany for years, the Nazis left behind quite a mess. Ruined factories here and oil refineries there left quite an ecological mess, but it was nothing your average grunt with a shovel and some orders couldn't handle. Us, they saved the dangerous sites for us to have fun with\" he said with a cool grin.\n\n\"By now, everyone knew that Hitler almost had the A-bomb towards the end of the war. Truman thought he was close, but it turned out he wasn't that close. All they really figured out was how to make a real mess with radioactive material. Good thing we poached their scientists during the war.\" Another sly grin.\n\n\"The Third Reich's nuclear program was just the tip. In '52 they hauled us out to a bunker southwest of Berlin. A place I never heard of before. Mind you, this was my second job with the unit but I'd seen some fucked up shit already. The first job I was on was cleaning up some human experiments that some our brass deemed too *sensitive* for the army's regular boys to see. Isn't it strange how things work? We prosecute Nazis decades later yet reap the rewards of their programs.\"\n\n\"Anyway, this place was something else. We rode down in our M35 deuce right into a mountainside. I and many of the other boys were young so we thought we were hot shit. These Nazis had carved a tunnel descending miles down into the earth, with incredible sets of foot-thick blast doors every three hundred yards. Took us hours to reach our level. I'm not going to tell you all of what I saw down there, because I think you already know it was alien. The krauts I interviewed, in short, told me they were researching the creature's genome.\"\n\n\"By the time our boys finished packing everything up I had learned a lot of what this facility was for. Too much, it turns out. A few months later on another job, a high-and-important looking man showed up at our next work site, looking for me. He instructed that I was to come with him, and I did.\"\n\n\"This man,\" I asked, \"who was he?\"\n\n\"Couldn't be sure. I always called him The Commander, which I thought was funny. The man was cold, never once did I get a chuckle from 'em. He's the one I worked for until I got out, though. After this meeting I was sent back to my Unit for a few more jobs. Strange thing was, now I had two bosses. I reported everything I learned and saw back to The Commander too.\"\n\n\"A few years later, I was transferred to another unit doing the same kind of work. This time, more alien shit in eastern Europe. Hell, we coulda been past the iron curtain for all I know, they never told us exactly where we went.\"\n\n\"Anyway, that cycle repeated for a few decades. A few jobs with the same unit, then I'm transferred to a new one dealing with some really fucked up shit. All the while I'm shipping reports off the this Commander guy.\"\n\n\"Did you ever learn what was done with your information?\" I asked\n\n\"No. Well, not til later. About the time Reagan was running for president, I was informed that I will be retiring a month before election date. Next thing I know, I'm an desk rat reporting directly to this Commander. Still never knew his name. I sorted and shuffled paperwork for a few weeks. Everything was sealed except the new stuff, I was supposed to read it and sort it. Strange thing was, these were reports just like mine. But, the location, dates, and names were blacked out, so I had no idea where or when what I read about was regarding.\"\n\n\"Then, it happened. The evening after Regan as inaugurated, he showed up in our dump. I almost shook the man's hand but the Commander whisked him away into our nicest conference room. The kind of room with 80 year old whiskey on the table.\"\n\n\"He tapped me and two other newbies and brought us into the room. Never knew their names. We sat on some chairs along the wall, he and another gruff man sat at the table across from Regan. The President's security guys stayed outside the room, I thought that was weird. Then, it started.\"\n\n\"I remember every word of that meeting like it was yesterday. What basically happened is that the Commander started telling Regan all sorts of crazy shit I didn't even know if I wanted to believe. Communists in America, space weapons, statistics and figures about our nuclear arsenal. Stuff I thought we all knew.\"\n\n\"Then, the deep shit started. The commander asked 'Mr President - do you believe in extraterrestrials?' He chuckled, took a sip of whiskey, and said - to my astonishment - 'yes sir'. My mind was racing. The Commander was telling the president all sorts of sci-fi shit I would never believe had I not seen it with my own eyes. Names, places, and words I didn't even know. And the president was eating it all up. I've never seen Regan with fear in his eyes, but I saw it that night.\"\n\nI jotted this down, in astonishment, and asked, \"Did anything from your time in the field get mentioned?\".\n\nHe answered, \"Some early shit yes, it did in fact. As it turns out my second job near Berlin in '52 was the western world's first encounter with shit like this. And that after the Nazis, we're the only nation that knows about anything of the sort. Mind you, this was the 80s, things are a' different now.\"\n\nMy head spun. Feeling overwhelmed by what I just learned, I asked \"What else did the Commander tell Regan?\"\n\n\"The space shit was the only eye-opener, the rest was much less incredible. Stuff about our operations across the globe, arms development, lots of state secrets but the extraterrestrial was the star of the ball tonight. Regan seemed overwhelmed and solemn by the time he left. Maybe running the free world ain't so easy.\"\n\n\"And with that Mr, uh, Dave, I end my story. I think you have what you need.\"\n\nMy head was still spinning. I thanked the man as I mechanically stood up and was ushered out of the home. The door shut behind me and I heard the sounds of the locks, but my mind was in another place. Could this be the truth? Who was the Commander? Next thing I knew I was fumbling for keys at my apartment. I dropped my bag just inside the door and laid down on the couch to collect my thoughts.\n\n----\n\nThis is the first writing prompt I've ever participated in! I'd love some feedback to improve what I wrote or my writing in general!",
"\"Any threes there Jim?\"\n\n\"Go fish Bob\"\n\n\"Arses\"\n\n\"So ... how did the new guy react?\"\n\n\"To what, Jim?\"\n\n\"You know, to THE NEWS. All the secret crap. I had to tell the last guy. Acted like a kid finding out Santa was real. Was so weird to see someone so happy to know all that\"\n\n\"Well, he got real quiet. Asked how long we've been in contact. Told him since 1945. Turns out they didn't like the atomic program. Then they saw how far we where, and what the goal was. Then they left us alone. So, not so bad\"\n\n\"Got any eights?\"\n\n\"Go fish.\"\n\n\"Not too bad then. How long you think this guy is going to last?\"\n\n\"Eh, no idea. I'm putting money on some arsehole taking a few shots at him mind.\"\n\n\"Yeah. Probably. You want a beer?\"\n\n\"Sure, get it from the other cooler. Some idiot started keeping chimera samples in that fridge\"\n\n\"Alright\"",
"They all swear.\n\nNo, honestly, they all do. By our little insider lore, everybody from Jefferson on has cursed like sailors, un... unleashed such vertiginous torrents of abysmal, miasmal filth, is the traditional expression, that if there was a reporter present they wouldn't be elected a dogcatcher, not in a million years.\n\nNot that we have a million years; and, uh, in my time the swearing has become coarser and darker with every president.\n\nThat's not a racist thing. The last--- the latest one just happens to be black. I'm sure the next one will make the wallpapers curl. Or maybe it's just me; isn't it always true that the world seems to get ruder as you get older? Haha!\n\nBut anyway, my experience. Let me see. The Bushes were near identical, except the younger kept using \"Florida\" as a cussword. Like in, \"Oh for Florida's sake! Florida this Floridan flow Florida up your Florida Montana, Dick!\"\n\nWe tell the Vee Pees first. They can take a week in the hahahouse and nobody notices. If the Pee then starts dribbling over the carpets, we have someone who can take care of things.\n\nAnyway. Clinton's bits included \"stick this lava up yours and smoke it\"; makes no sense but hey, it's a no speechwriter zone here. No reporters either. Now which team did you say you---\n\nOh wait hey this I got to tell you, I've heard they told Truman only after FDR was dead even if he was Vee Pee, because he was a nobody, so one day he's told about the bomb, and the next about this. We call it the Mushroom Over Easy. He was all like, can't we bomb it? Seriously!\n\nNo, of course we can't, that'd be the worst thing we could do. I think there's some work done in solar, but that's just to buy us a few more years. I can't even imagine being someone like... like Taft, quaking there without anything that could be done, no tech, nothing. Or, God, Jefferson! It's not even America yet, and these two guys come back, and they say... look, we found this thing way over in the west... in Wyoming.\n\nOh! I think, personally, I think JFK wanted us to go to space to escape the fucking thing. Brilliant bastard! And Johnson... I've heard he wanted to take over Vietnam, move the four closest states there. That's nonsense. How do you take someone from Montana and plonk them into tropic Vietfuckingnam? Plus evacuating four states still leaves forty-six to burn, right?\n\nWhat?\n\nThe thing?\n\nWell the Yellowstone thing. Imminent supervolcano. Any time within the next... hang on, why're you writing this down?\n\nYou're not a reporter are you? \n\nHey! Come back.\n\nHey!\n\nAhh... *florida*.",
"Hello Mr. Stone,\n\nI am Gordon Andrews, a former agent of the Secret Service. I'm sure it comes as no surprise that the Secret Service has known of your organization for some time, though it has taken me considerable time tracking you down. But I must digress.\n\nAs a young man I joined the Secret Service under the Reagan administration. Shortly thereafter during one of our intelligence briefings I was informed about a certain race of humanoid known as Reptilians. Little was known at the time about exactly what they are and where they came from. This was all a bit difficult to take in, and I wasn't sure if it was some joke until I was informed that \"they live among us\". That took me back. They could be anyone, even my friends or family. I was informed on how to spot them and what kind of threat they might pose to the President.\n\nWhen Bush Sr. was elected into office, I sat in on his introductory intelligence briefing. They of course discussed the matter of reptilians. I watched the President intently during this time. As he was informed that \"they live among us,\" the President was visibly shaken. \"Among us?\" he replied. The answer was a series of statistics, about one in 10,000 people, located throughout the world, often living in clusters. The President's initial reaction was to negotiate with these people. He was informed that all previous negotiations have either failed or had undesirable outcomes. There is currently an equilibrium in the balance of power between us and them.\n\nWhen Clinton was elected, I once again sat in on his intelligence briefing. The mood was generally light, but when the discussion of Reptilians came up, the room grew heavy with an air of seriousness. When informed that \"they live among us,\" the president inquired about their attractiveness and if any of them are going to want a sample of his DNA. His joking did little to ease the tension in the room, and the briefing continued. There is currently an equilibrium in the balance of power between us and them.\n\nBush Jr. was a bit more aggressive than his father. I was watching a look of worry on his face as the descriptions of the Reptilians were conveyed. \"They live among us,\" he was told. The President's worry grew to a startle as he spoke up, \"How is their military might? Do we have the strength to overpower them?\" Previous military assaults have proven costly and largely ineffective. Although we outnumber them 9,000 to 1, they are technologically superior to us, and we still know very little about them. It would be ill advised to disrupt the relative peace. As of now, there is an equilibrium in the balance of power between us and them.\n\nThen there's Barack Obama. During the briefing he wore a pleasant smile similar to the one that won him the election. I watched intently as they described the Reptilians in as much detail as they could. \"They live among us.\" This didn't seem to phase the President as it did his predecessors. His only reaction was a blink. But he didn't blink with his eyelids...\n\nMr. Stone, the balance of power has shifted between us and them. The world needs your help and the help of your organization. I would like to help in any way I can. I still have contacts in the government, and I am familiar with their security protocols. We must find a way to put an end to this invasion once and for all.\n\n\n\nSigned,\n\nFormer Agent Gordon Andrews"
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[WP] Write your interpretation of the future, near or far.
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"People were all up in a huff about something. Personally, I couldn’t care less. I didn’t even bother to pay attention to the headlines anymore. The news was always so sensationalized. I picked up the orange I was looking to buy and headed over to the cash register to finish with my grocery shopping.\n\n“That’ll be $200,” the cashier said.\n\nI paid the cashier and went on my way, but not before seeing the latest headline from the Inquisitor, claiming that Elvis had been spotted hanging out with Kim Jong Il over in North Korea. Like anyone’s going to believe that.\n\nI load the groceries into my car, then input my destination. My car’s doors lock and the car begins to drive itself. I’m telling you, these driverless cars are a God send. Sure, there was something about possible hacking, tracking every movement you made, purposely causing crashes to eliminate certain unfavorable people, but I didn’t care. Not having to drive meant I could spend my whole time on my phone.\n\nFirst I checked the receipt the grocery store e-mailed me, and saw that I paid just $10 for a single orange. Man, food prices are ridiculous. Back in my day, oranges only cost $8. Well, I guess they were always raising food prices, right?\n\nFinally, I pop over to Reddit. People are surprised it’s still alive. So am I. I see a question in /r/askreddit about whether you should be able to make out with your robot in public. Some people still found it questionable behavior. I didn’t really care though. As I looked through the thread for opinions, I laugh at the fact that someone actually got gold for his comment: “It’s all good as long as the robot is made of gold.” I mean, seriously, gold for just mentioning gold? Come on. \n\nFinally, I go to my favorite sub, /r/writingprompts. I look for one to respond to. The first prompt I see is: *America invades Mexico. Russia invades Poland. WW3 has begun. Tell the story of a young man who only wants peace, that is until his lover dies. The twist: she was a robot.* I suppose I should mention that with the recent invasion of North Korea by South Korea, people have been on edge about WW3. I can’t tell you how many WW3 prompts I’ve seen lately.\n\nFinally, though, I see a prompt that interests me. *Write your interpretation of the future, near or far.* Well, I figured it would work, so I got to work on writing it. I told tall tales about time travel, lasers, a mission to Mars. About all sorts of stuff in the future. I cracked jokes, but I told the truth. In the end, though, I deleted my response. No one wants to see a bleak future. One of war, one of despair, one where prompts about vampires and werewolves are still prominent, of higher prices, of the world falling apart.\n\nI turned off my computer and headed for work. I can’t believe I even still have a computer. But that’s what happens when you’re poor. If I could just stop buying those damn, tasty oranges. Then maybe I could save up some money. I know the Oreos, the Potato Chips, and all that tasty stuff is discounted by the government, but dammit if I don’t want some fruits, or even vegetables now and then.\n\nOn the bright side, I just got a pay raise at work. I’m making $5.50 an hour at McDonalds. I should consider myself fortunate. If I didn’t have that $200,000 college degree that took 6 years of being unemployed to get, I wouldn’t even be making half as much. I guess I should probably mention that if you choose to go to college nowadays, you aren’t allowed to work. Too many people need jobs. I was fortunate enough to get a scholarship for not only winning a tournament for Call of Duty 30, but for also accomplishing some rare feat or whatever in a game called Half Life 3.\n\nAs I head out the door, I can’t wait for the comfort of the AC in my car. It was a 100 degrees out, the average for December here. Perhaps I should consider moving somewhere else. I heard there’s some nice beach front property in Southern Georgia, bordering the land where Florida used to be. And supposedly it rains there more than a few times a year. Although I suppose you have to handle all the really cold weather there as well.\n\nI listen to the radio on my way to work. People thought the radio would have died out a long time ago. Me too. But when some people are still using floppy disks, does the radio really seem that ancient? I almost turn the station when they start talking about the big controversy. People were so fed up with politicians apparently, that in an unprecedented move, they had wrote in a presidential candidate for office. His name was Kermit the Frog. Personally, I was okay with it. Kermit actually existed now, albeit in a weird puppet machine version of himself, and he was an advanced AI. And when other countries thought they could piss on us with a frog as our leader, Kermit showed them who was boss. After all, that frog has some anger issues. It ain’t easy bein’ green.\n\n“Fuck!” I yelled as my head bumped against the ceiling of the car.\n\n“That’ll be ten dollars,” a mechanical voice chimed as my ticket was e-mailed to me.\n\n“Damn!” I replied, which was stupid, as it resulted in yet another ticket. That was my only complaint about Kermit. He didn’t like the cussing. And now we got fined for it too. Well, that and the ban on toilet paper on grounds that it was bad for the environment. Lets just say I don’t like the new system.\n\n-278",
"It had been a hundred years since the retaking of Crimea by the Russian state. In that time the Ukraine had also had a short lived skirmish with Russia which fizzled and spat conflict like hot oil in a pan around the region. All the conflict flickered out however as the people soon became hungry and the importance of unity versus hostility to make a life in these fertile lands shone through.\n\nThe people of Crimea with a stable government behind them for those first 30 years were able to establish an independent educational system that taught all sides of the regions history. This allowed the new generation to be conscious of the ability of atrocity and heroism to come from all sides of an argument, it allowed empathy towards traditional old enemies. Out of the new generation a leader had bloomed uniting all the people of the fertile peninsula and through deft diplomacy he balanced the outside influences of the surrounding states be it the behemoth of Russia or the smaller but equally important Moldovan state.\n\nBy rejecting adversarial policies and dismissing the comfort of the current generation of Crimean people in preference of the next generation Premier Nicolas had built a nation that embraced education and while the Military was important for stability it was used also as a vehicle of education, no solider was permitted to leave without a trade qualification or equivalent civilian skill set. Nation building was what Nicolas had completed and with the knowledge of the Crimea's fertile lands and the measured management of them the country never went hungry. On Nicolas' death 80 years since the retaking and subsequent independence of his country Crimea had become a stable platform for the development of a society not seen in Europe for as long as anyone could remember.\n\nOn the 100 year anniversary of the the swap from Ukraine to Russian rule and all that had happened since; Crimea stood as a leader in agricultural, medical and industrial technology surpassing the heights of Germany in the mid 21st century. Crimea had proved to all countries that no matter who your neighbouring states were or your own history there is always opportunity for peace and greatness.\n\nThe greatness of Crimea was annihilated on the anniversary of it's 101st year since the split from Ukraine. The Six powers of Russia, the USA, Europe, Brazil, Nigeria and China it seemed could not agree on responsibility and kept a deftly silence. The fear of repeating the formula of the first world war in the 20th century was enough for the guilty party or parties to get away with it and the door opened further to a future where civilisations could be wiped out without consequence so long as their destruction was total. The most fearful part of the destruction of Crimea was that without a guilty party there was no reason be it greed for markets, jealousy of success or the keeping in check of nations whom others have deemed too influential for their own good.\n\nIn the 22nd century it is the story of Crimea that ensures the largest nations advance while all else are enslaved it is the opposite of what Crimea strove for and all it represented. The tragedy of Crimea's history continues."
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[WP] Death, the Grim Reaper, has fallen in love with you. You need to think of a way to let him down...or not.
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"“You know you’re favorite saying?” I ask Death while holding his hand across the table.\n\n“And what would that be?” Death asked back. His voice was deep and dark. I’m not sure anyone’s ever had a more handsome, attractive voice. This is going to be hard.\n\n“Everything must come to an end,” I answer. His brilliant, red eyes pierce my soul. Quite literally actually. I found out a couple weeks ago that if he stares into your eyes, he can actually see your soul.\n\n“Oh, that one,” Death replied. “Yes, yes I do like that one. But I think that I’ve found something that won’t come to an end…”\n\n“Uh, yeah, about that,” I interrupt, jumbling my words. “Look, the reason I brought it…”\n\n“Sarah,” Death said, interrupting me right back. “I love you. I love you so much.”\n\nI watched in terror as he got down on one knee, in front of the whole restaurant. He reached back into his cloak he normally wore and pulled out a small box. And I knew he was serious, as he had put his scythe down. He never puts his scythe down. And I mean never. Not even when we sleep together.\n\n“Will you marry me?” he asked out loud to the entire restaurant. He opened the box to reveal the most stunning diamond ring I’d ever seen, a brilliant and nearly flawless blue diamond. “And by the way, the diamond’s real. Got it off of a queen a few thousand years ago for sparing her life,” Death added.\n\nI just stared in horror. I came here to break up with him, which was becoming increasingly hard to do. I mean, in the first place, he was just ridiculously handsome. You’d think Death would be skeletal, pale, and ugly, but he was instead, tall, ripped, and tan. He was smooth and romantic, and he was better than any other lover I had ever had. And that diamond really did look like it was made just for me. Plus, I don’t want to be the bitch that rejects some guy’s wedding proposal in front of everyone.\n\nDeath gets up off his knees and takes me in his cold arms as I start to cry. He still doesn’t realize what’s wrong.\n\n“Look,” I say while pushing him off of me. “I can’t. I don’t love you. I’m sorry.”\n\nDeath just stares back, shocked at my rejection. He looks sadly down at the ring and snaps the box shut, laying it on the table as he picks up his scythe and dawns his cloak.\n\n“Fine, I get it,” Death says. “All things must come to an end. Even this relationship, huh? Fair enough.”\n\nI stare back, amazed that he’s taking it so maturely. And then his scythe swings through the air, straight through my neck. But I feel nothing. In fact, everything seems perfectly normal, except for the gasps of the people in the restaurant.\n\n“Look, nothing personal,” Death says. “But you know, if you’d have just married me, you would be immortal like I am. Oh well, I tried. It was your time otherwise.”\n\nI stood up, and as I saw people staring at where I sat, horrified, I realized I was dead. But I knew my ex-boyfriend. He played by the rulebook and would have never reaped me before my time. \n\n“I understand,” I began, until I saw my body. “What the hell?!”\n\n“Oh, well that was personal,” Death snickered. “I thought it would be a funny way for you to die.”\n\nLet me tell you one thing. Death isn’t pleasant. It doesn’t look good. And it’s not as simple as it is in the movies. Do you know you shit yourself afterwards? And did you know that even in this ethereal form, I can still smell. But that ain’t the worst part. It wasn’t something even visible to the crowd of people standing around, all too appalled by the sight and smell to continue eating. He made me die of heartbreak over rejecting his proposal.\n\n“So now what?” I ask angrily, hands on my hips.\n\n“I don’t know,” Death said. “You ain’t my baggage anymore. Go haunt someone. Or possess someone. That’s always fun. As for me, I’ve got to bounce. I need a new girlfriend after all.”\n\n“Wait, aren’t you supposed to take me to heaven or something?” I ask. “I mean, isn’t that what you do when you reap someone?”\n\n“Well, yeah, normally,” Death said. “But if someone sleeps with me, they are denied access to the land of the immortals, doomed to forever live in a land where all things must come to an end, except for your suffering. But look on the bright side. You’re a ghost now. You should at least be able to have some fun with that.”\n\nDeath smiled. Or at least I assumed he did. You couldn’t really see his face with his hood on. And then in a wisp of black smoke he disappeared. Oh well, what can I do now? I guess I minus well go haunt that couple over there who’s eating still. Seriously, who keeps eating when someone just died?",
"You don't remember dying, but you hoped it was a peaceful death. You remember waking up again though, eyes flying open, gasping for air like a dying man, fingers scrambling at the invisible fingers that seemed to wrap themselves around your throat before the sensation was gone. Disappearing almost as quick as it appeared, and deceptively so.\n\n“I am sorry to have to inform you,” a deep voice intones, the voice sounds regretful, yet there are hints of excitement that betray it. “But you have died.”\n\nYou snort and roll your eyes. As if the giant fucking skeleton man with a robe on didn’t clue you in to the fact that you weren’t, y’know, *alive* anymore. It stoops low to offer you a hand, and you eye it with distrust.\n\n“Yeah,” you say bitterly, batting the hand away before getting up to your feet. You pick at an invisible speck of dust on your shirt before you dare to raise your eyes to the towering figure. “You sound real sad about that, Skeletor.” \n\nIf a skeleton could convey confusion, you figure it’d be as close to whatever that thing is doing right now. “I must admit, I am not all to upset at making the acquaintance of someone as lovely as you…” It trails off, as if you’d willingly give this thing the time of day.\n\n“Wow, step off for a sec there, I literally just died. My now dead corpse is still warm for fuck’s sake.” You step back, brows furrowing. You think you can take this guy, Grim Reaper or not he is just a sack of bones and a weird robe. And a scythe… Shit, you forgot about that.\n\n“I apologise if I have hit a nerve, I have just never seen a creature as delicate as you.” It pauses, watching you size it up before it chuckles. Okay, what the fuck, the Grim Reaper is laughing at you. “Does this form not fit to your liking? Perhaps you would prefer a man?” The figure shifts, bone cracking dangerously as you watch the pale bone turn to a face. \n\nIt—*he*, your mind supplies—smiles at you, head ducking in a manner you almost associate with adorableness, if it wasn’t done by a millenniums old being who enjoyed reaping souls and such. “Is this more to your liking? Perhaps you’d rather a woman?” \n\nHe moves once more, almost as if to change when you hold your hand up. You feel a headache forming at the edge of your brow. (Really, you die and you can still get headaches?) “Enough with the magic shape shifting, okay? Who even said I liked you? You are taking my soul to the afterlife not buying me a drink at a bar.” \n\n“You would like for me to buy you a drink at a b-”\n\n“No, holy shit, I want you to reap my soul or whatever with a wave of your magic scythe and abra cadabra my ass to hell or whatever awaits me.” You seriously can’t deal with this today. And he seems to pick up on that in the way he slumps his shoulders and grips his scythe with both hands, almost like he is receiving a scolding from his parent. \n\n“I am sorry, I shall do that if you wish. I just… Okay.” Oh god, is this thing seriously giving you the puppy dog eyes? Literally what the fuck. \n\n“Okay, c’mon, don’t cry. There are plenty of other people out there just waiting for Death to sweep them off their feet.” You wince, and scrub a hand over your face, half hoping this is a horrible dream and you’ll wake up and have a good laugh about it before running your ass to a therapist.\n\n“But, I like you.” He sounds like a petulant child about to have his toy taken away. You grind your teeth and will yourself to breathe, nostrils flaring.\n\n“You know what I like? Being alive. Dogs. Cheesy horror movies. There are people who worship you in the land of the living, called pagans or something I guess.” \n\n“But none of them are you! I want you! Your soul is shimmering, it has a brightness of which I haven’t seen since the dawn of man!” He stamps his foot and you honest to god laugh. It comes out as more of a pathetic wheeze though, as if the fact that you find this funny is being forced out of you.\n\n“Tell you what man,” your face aches and your lungs burn as you try to speak before your laughter doubles and you fall to your knees, arms wrapping around your stomach. “We don’t date, like ever, at all, I will never wanna bone you like ever, but I will be your friend. Or wingman if that special soul comes along. But you gotta give me vacation time, and by that I mean I want at least four months off each year in a place of my choosing with uninterrupted me time.”\n\nHe thinks about this, obviously taking your offer seriously before he nods. “Those are acceptable terms.”\n\n“Alright! By the way, can I get a scythe thingy? I always wanted one.”\n\nHe nods, and with a wave of his scythe and a sweeping motion of his arm, ushers you into a tear in the fabric of time.\n\n\"Oh! Also since you reap like all dead things, do aliens exist?\"\n\nHe laughs, but doesn't say a word.\n\nAll the while, though, he has a glint in his eyes that tells you that he won’t give up trying to woo you. You don’t know it now, but somewhere down the line you return it.\n\n(Hope this kinda fits what you want, I thought the character would kinda reject him forever but the idea of a cute little GR following you and trying to woo you was just too adorable to resist.)"
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Just to help broaden your creativity: It can start and end at any time in the person's life. Whether it all happens in their final moments, starting at the middle age, as a kid, whenever, ends whenever, it just has to be in reverse order.
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[WP] A man goes through the 5 Stages of Grief, in reverse order. Acceptance, Depression, Bargaining, Anger, Denial/Isolation.
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"\"You're leaving me? That's cool. You never really meant anything to me.\"\n\nShe walked out the door as he dialed up a hooker. \n\nThe door opens, the door shuts and the hooker gets onto his bed. \n\n\"So you're saying you won't do a double cork screw no matter what?\"\n\nMy girlfriend - ex-girlfriend - used to be so good at that. God, the world feels empty.\n\n\"Are...are you sure? I'll double, no triple, your rate.\"\n\n\"NO? SERIOUSLY? OUT. GET OUT. IF YOU WON'T DO IT, WHATS THE POINT?\"\n\nAlone again, the man shifts over to his computer. \n\n//search:double screw erotica.\n\nHe'd get his happy ending one way or another.",
"Homer walked into Moe's tavern.\n\n\"I'll have one Duff, please.\"\n\n\"Awww, sorry Homer, we're all outta beer. I gotta make a run to get some more.\"\n\nHomer nodded agreeably, then began walking down the street, when suddenly the severity of the situation hit him. It began to rain, and the world turned slightly grayer, as a tear shed from his eye.\n\nMoe exited the bar and began locking it up.\n\n\"Moe, please, you gotta have more beer!\"\n\n\"Sorry homer, I don't have any!\"\n\n\"But Moe! If you ran out of beer, it's your fault! How could you let the bar run out of beer?\" said Homer, grabbing Moe's collar, with steam coming out his ears.\n\n\"Hey, get off me!\" Moe began running down the street to escape the drunk's fury.\n\nHomer watched Moe go run into the distance, then began climbing into the bar window.\n\n\"There's got to be some beer in here...\"\n\n---\n\nEpilogue: Moe came back. Empty kegs lay strewn about the tavern, opened by sheer tenacity and a sharp metal multitool. Homer lay on the floor, holding up an opened keg to drink the dregs.\n\nThe police force didn't arrest anyone. They were too incompetent. Instead, Homer made a trip to Russia, and ended up foiling an ISIS plot to assassinate Putin, inadvertently ending Western/Russia tensions.\n\nFIN."
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[WP]It all started with that strange man on the subway.
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"It all started with that strange man on the subway. The intense focus he gave his book intrigued Grace. Before she could look away from his chiseled jawline he shot a glance up and made eye contact with her. Grace held his deep brown eyed gaze. There was something captivating about this man and she couldn't figure out what it was. He tilted his head slightly to the left as if trying to figure her out. Then he looked back down to his book and refocused on its pages. Grace let out her breath, not realizing she'd been holding it in. She knew the next stop was his and she didn't want to let this opportunity pass her up. This was the first time they'd actually made eye contact. \n\nThe subway started to slow down. Grace was struggling to figure out what to do - how to approach him - what to say. Sure, she could be charming and talkative in more predictable situations but this man was a pure mystery. \n\nThe subway came to a complete stop. She watched him slowly close his book and hold it in his lap, although never looking up. \n\nThe subway doors opened and passengers shuffled off and on. Grace looked down at her book and felt her heart fill with remorse for her lack of bravery. \n\nThe subway doors closed and it began to move again. She closed her eyes in disbelief. She may never see him again and this opportunity was forever gone. \n\nGrace felt a hand touch her shoulder. She opened her eyes and saw the handsome mystery man standing next to her. Before she could think of the words to say, he motioned to the empty seat next to her by the window. Without breaking eye contact she scooted over and he sat down in her original seat. Their gaze remained locked as the subway zipped through its tunnels. Grace felt her heart racing. She couldn't think of one damn word to say and at the same time it felt like nothing had to be said. He smiled lightly and looked down at the book she was holding. He then opened his own book and began reading as if it was the most natural thing to do. Grace looked down at his book and focused her attention back to her own. \n\nThere they sat. Two complete strangers - reading separately, together. Grace's stop came and went. She didn't care about her original destination anymore. In this moment, all that mattered was their destination. After twenty minutes of riding and reading together the mystery man closed his book and stood up. Grace closed her book and looked up at him. \n\nAs the subway came to a stop, he held out his hand and said, \"Would you like to grab a cup of coffee with me? I know a cozy place not too far from here.\" \nWithout hesitation Grace gathered her things, placed her hand in his and replied, \"I'd love to.\" ",
"It all started with that strange man on the subway. Something about him made me shiver at the very first glare. Not like when we catch a cooler than expected breeze, but like when there is something hurting down your skin; it was as if I had experienced an outrageous pain. As if, I died and got back to life again. As if, I was usurped of my soul. His eyes pierced me like little nettles. They were of a glowing, paste red; but then I blinked and they turned into a regular brown. He had eyes like minuscule coconuts. Before I blinked, he was sitting nude in his seat, with skin of a profound black; such in a way that it felt as if it took all light around it; as if in that place, no light could be generated. He felt as a man shaped black hole of some sort. Then came that first blink and his skin became a simple beige, as of an Italian or Arabic tone. I was never good sorting out ethnicities. After I blinked, he was fully dressed, even wearing this obnoxious trench coat; it is a hundred degrees out there for God's sake. Before the blink, he had no hairs, no wrinkles; he did have this pervasive smile, and even though he had no eyeballs in that bloodlike glare, I could tell he was glaring at no one but me. Thus said, I could tell that shivering smile was meant to me. Oh, then I blinked; the eyes turned to the coconut brown and some black hair came upon his tanned head. He was not staring at me, nor was him smiling. He was staring at the nothingness of his own thoughts and at the next stop he was off the train. Off to his own destiny. I was left isolated in my perceptions. Did I just see what I think I saw, I wondered. I could not believe my eyes have failed me, but I could not believe my sight was correct. Something like that could never be seen by human eyes; something like that could never be tamed by the realms of our world.\n\nAnd yet, it is out there; it is in here: It is walking among us. It was not the man; it was something else. Today, I see it on many other occasions. I see it while alone, sitting in the couch next to me; smiling and glaring with its pale red shiny eyes. I see it next to my bed while I am sleeping. I see it in the bathroom while I am trying to evacuate. It is there; not always; but it is constantly there. As if a ghost; a guarding angel; or worst. I cannot tell right now; it has not done anything yet. It just stands there: watching me and smiling.\n",
"Damn, I was sweating again. A man appeared to laugh at the futile attempts of my deodorant to stop the onslaught of perspiration as I managed to sweat through my undershirt and my button up. It was October, it shouldn't be this hot, I thought to myself. I pretended to ignore the mirth of the man who noticed my plight. He was a bronze skinned man of apparently Asian descent. He wore a Poison tee shirt which prominently declared, \"Talk Dirty to Me!\" He coupled this shirt with an equally jarring pair of bermuda shorts in a loud red and yellow print. \n\nWas he strange? Yes, but not any more than the rest of the people who took the subway. Essentially the subway boiled down into students (myself), the working class, and homeless. This wasn't New York where everyone took the subway. In this city you only used the run down dilapidated subway if you had to because of financial constraints. A year ago, a scandal had emerged where the mayor had forced the subway company to drastically slice rates in order to run it into the ground. The subways became a money pit and as a result were not maintained. \n\nIn conditions like these, it was easy for me to dismiss this man. At least it would have been if he hadn't tackled me and pinned me to the ground, baring a stick of antiperspirant between his teeth like a pirate of hygiene. I struggled to remove this man which couldn't have weighed more than 100 pounds but his spindly limbs kept me firmly in place. Screeching in some language I didn't understand, he ripped open my button-up chambray shirt and tore my undershirt with his sharp, yellowing nails.\n\nA crowd gathered around at the spectacle of a teenage male apparently being beat up by the human version of Splinter. I continued to struggle as he spread cool antiperspirant across my pits. I might as well have been in shackles for I could not best the grip of this small man. I stopped for a second and met his gaze. His almond colored eyes burned with the fire of a man who would not break concentration on the task at hand. With a final swipe of his stick. He released me. \n\nI was so confused, I didn't even fight back. I gave the crowd a perplexed look as I took in the scene. They continued to goad me into combat but I was immobilized out of sheer confusion. I looked at the man. he saluted me as he moved towards the doors of the moving subway car. With a push of the yellow strip on the car, the doors opened and the man lept out backwards, the face of Bret Michaels rippling on his tee shirt as he soared down the subway tunnel eventually hitting the ground in a tumble and disappearing in the darkness of the subway. \n\nI turned to the crowd and they shouted,\"Look!\" as they pointed at my pits. They were clean. I had no trace of sweat on me. Despite being assaulted by the Grandfather from Jackie Chan Adventures and through all the adrenaline, I was untouched by the smelly hand of perspiration. From that moment on, I saved hundreds on deodorant and undershirts as I never sweated from my pits again. Sure every now and then I would sweat on the brow or maybe glisten on the chest but never my pits. My confidence increased exponentially as I removed the worry of pit stains during public speaking engagements, interviews, sports, dates etc. \n\nThat week I quit my job as a telemarketer and became a public speaker. After a few successful speaking engagements, I published my first book. I received a book deal and later became the host of a nationally syndicated radio show at the age of 20. At 22, I left my radio show a millionaire. At 24, I was the owner of the Los Angeles Raiders football team. At 25, I was dating Tom Brady's ex-wife. My confidence knew no bounds and I knew I was forever indebted to that man on the subway. I spent hundreds of millions in an attempt to track that man to no avail. My life was sublime but I would never be able to truly be happy until I found that man. That paragon of anti-perspiration. As I began to board my submarine in order to investigate the discovery of a torn Poison tee shirt in the Caspian Sea, I released a silent laugh because it all started with that strange man on the subway. ",
"I shift my weight from one foot the other, which only briefly alleviates the ache I feel radiating from my kneecaps. I brace the straps of my backpack against the palms of my hands with a sigh. Today had been a long day. It didn’t help that the hottest week of summer seemed to be upon us, and my university was too broke to fix the AC in our classrooms. I stare wistfully into the silent tunnel at the end of the station. My ears perk at what I imagine is the sound of an approaching train; I don’t even care if it isn’t mine. I’d just be happy for the breeze. But it’s a false alarm. Damnit.\n\nA crackle over the loud speakers is followed by a woman’s voice.\n\n*We are currently experiencing difficulties on the North Street line. Expect 10-15 minute delays. We apologize for any inconvenience.*\n\nI roll my eyes and check my phone as if I had somewhere to be. A woman nearby catches my eye and gives me a sympathetic look. I respond by shrugging my shoulders and shaking my head. She nods and turns away.\n\nThe platform is filling up. People continuously flow down from the stairways, and exasperated voices talking to no one in particular echo against the cavernous walls. \n\nWhen a light appears in the dark tunnel and the metallic scream of an approaching train overpowers the sounds of impatience, people begin to push forward in expectation. Graffiti and dust decorate the outside of the train that shudders to a stop in front of the bristling wave of people. The doors fly open, and the crowd begins to pour inside. A small stream of people exiting the train is led by a man parting the way through the unrelenting crowd with his arms, pushing people aside as if he is swimming.\n\n*Doors are closing, please stand clear* a jaded voice announces.\n\nI push forward, pressing against the wall of human flesh that threatens to impede the motion of the closing doors. The damp glass slides against the side of my body, sealing us in. Disgusting. Sardines, indeed.\n\nThe train lurches into motion, rocking from side to side. Looking around, I see strain and revulsion painting the sea of faces before me. Everyone’s lips are drawn in silent grimaces. \n\nOut of the corner of my eye I see a middle aged man in a suit loosening his tie, sweating profusely. He reaches up to his forehead to wipe away the perspiration beaded there, elbowing the woman next to him in the process. She shoots him a stony glare, but he takes no notice. \n\n“*God*,” he shouts. Several people turn, startled. His breathing is rapid and ragged. The woman who had just been glaring at him, attempts to step back, alarmed.\n\n“Are you all right, sir?” she stammers. \n\n“NO. No, I am not all right! I need to breathe! I NEED TO BREATHE,” he pants, his face beginning to flush a rich shade of violet. \nPeople are shifting uncomfortably. \n\n“Should we notify the train operator?” Someone shouts from the middle of the train.\n\n“I NEED TO BREATHE,” the man shouts again, whipping his head back and forth. His eyes rest on my face, and looking directly at me he screams, louder, “I…NEED..TO BREATHE!”\n\nBright crimson veins pulse in the whites of his eyes, and his pupils are dilated to their fullest extent. Spit is frothing at the corners of his lips, and mucus drips from his flaring nostrils. My stomach turns as he holds my gaze.\n\n He suddenly pivots back to the woman next to him, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her. Her head bobs on her neck and she screams.\n\n“HELP ME,” he shrieks, inches from her face, showering her with spittle. When he releases her, she is shaking. Her eyes are wild.\n\n“A-AIR...,” she heaves, her eyeballs popping out of her head, her fingernails clawing at her throat. \n\nThe crowd on the train is bewildered, panicked. People are pushing against the doors fruitlessly as the dark walls of a tunnel whisk by outside. \n\nWatching the scene unfold, I instinctively pull my scarf above my nose and mouth. A young man across the train sees me, and similarly shields his face with his shirt, pulling the collar up over his nose. Other people follow suit, as we follow each other’s actions with darting eyes.\n\nMore people are screaming now; some scream for breath like the man and woman, others scream out of fear.\n \n“We need to get off of this train”, the young man who pulled his shirt over his face shouts over the din.\n\nI feel my muscles tense, ready to spring from the doors as soon as they open at the next station. I push a hysterical woman off of my shoulder, forcing myself not to look at her bared teeth or bloodshot eyes.\n\nA station materializes through the foggy windows. When the doors slide open, I leap forward, with one hand on my backpack and the other supporting the scarf on my face. The platform erupts into chaos. The strange man who started it all is left supine and motionless on the train floor. Other like him pour out of the train, falling to their hands and knees, grasping at nearby people for support. \n\n“HELP ME HELP ME,” I hear the train operator screaming over the intercom, ringing out behind me, “GOD, I CAN’T BREATHE.”\n\nI see the young man from before, still holding his shirt over his nose. He gestures that I should follow him. I nod and begin to weave my way through the hysterical crowd. Whatever this is, it seems to be contagious.\n\nI hope we make it out alive. ",
"‘James! James!’ the man called out as he alighted the E train at Forest Hills/71st Ave, his eyes scanning rapidly for someone. I looked his way from across the platform where I was waiting for the transfer to the F. I didn’t know him. His overcoat was rumpled and his hair blazed the color of the F train’s signature orange circle. Even though it’s hard to look out of place at any Queens subway station, he managed the feat.\n\nHe ran up the stairs from the E platform shouting a few more times for James. I quickly forgot the man and returned to the article about the mayor’s lavish ball at Gracie Mansion I was reading in the *New Yorker.* The F train is still 6 minutes away.\n\nAs I was reading the fluff piece about the clams casino NYC’s first lady served, my nose was assaulted by the smell of stale linguisa and sweat. I looked up to see the orange-headed man staring down at me. \n\n‘James! I found you.’\n\nI was about to tell him it must be another James he was looking for when he sat down, closer than he needed to be, on the bench next to me.\n\n‘James,’ he continued, bowling right over my objection, ‘I’m so glad I got you before you got on the F. I just missed you at Kew Gardens when you first got on the train.’\n\nThat brought my back up straight and the magazine fell to my lap forgotten.\n\n‘What do you mean you’ve been following me since I got on the train?’ I stared at the man and got my first really good look. \n\nHe wore glasses taped at both ends. His eyes had narrow pupils that drilled into mine like at MTA Sandhog doing tunnel work. As he spoke I could see remnants of sausage built up along his gumline.\n\n‘James, I missed you at Kew Gardens but I tried to catch you at your apartment on Talbot Street before that. It was imperative I get to you before I go to Manhattan. I’m just here to help.’ The man was breathless at this point with his explanation.\n\nI’d had enough. I don’t know who this man was but I was just trying to get to work. I got up to find another spot on the platform, try to lose myself in the crowd.\n\nThe man’s hand fell to my chest as I started to get up. His arm was strong, holding me in place.\n\n‘James, I told you I’m just here to help. You’ll want my help once you get to work. We’ll be done here in a moment.’ His tone turned stern, ‘Now you’ll get on the F train when it arrives in,’ he looked up at the electronic message board, ‘two minutes. You’ll take the train to Manhattan like you do every day. You’ll get off at Bryant Park like you do every day. You’ll walk to your job at 41 West 42nd Street. 7th floor, I believe.’\n\nHe removed his hand from my chest, but I was still paralyzed by this man reciting my daily routine. He reached into a pocket of his overcoat.\n\n‘And when you get to your desk,’ he continued, ‘and you log into your computer. You haven’t changed your password in a while, it’s still *7Yankees* isn’t it? I know it is, you seem to favor that one quite a bit. When you get to your computer, you’ll slide in this thumb drive. Remember, I’m just here to help,’\n\nThe man pulled a small flash drive from his pocket and dropped it on the cover of the *New Yorker* sitting in my lap.\n\nThe man got up and walked slowly away. I clutched the magazine and stared at the thumb drive. A screeching brought everyone else on the platform to their feet, the F train was here.\n\nI got on the train to head to work just like I do every day.\n\n____________________________________________________\n\nIT had to help me log into my computer when I got to work. My hands were shaking so damn badly I couldn’t type *7Yankees* straight and locked myself out of the network. Kevin, the Help Desk tech, chuckled as he handed me a card with a new temp password, *1Mets*. ‘Maybe you can remember this one, Jim.’\n\nI jammed the flash drive into my machine, my leg bouncing up and down as I waited for the driver to install. Finally a new folder popped up in my computer’s menu. It was labeled ‘James.’ Inside was a pdf file ‘Read Me First’ along with another folder titled ‘Observations.’\n\nThe Read Me First file had just two lines, a link to a YouTube video and a phone number with a Bronx area code. I clicked the link to YouTube.\n\nMy subway friend appeared on the screen. It was a locked YouTube video - accessible only to those with the direct URL. The YouTube username was FriendOfJames and this was the only video on the account.\n\n‘James,’ the orange-haired man began after I hit play, ‘I’m so glad we were finally able to connect. Please spend some time with the ‘Observations’ files. I trust you’ll find them fascinating. You’ll likely want to talk again. I won’t find you like I did at the subway. Please call me when you’re ready. Oh and, I’m glad you finally go around to changing your password. Go Mets.’\n\nThe video ended on the man’s now trademark haunting sausage-teethed grin.\nThe Observations folder contained a thousand files. I clicked open the first one Obersvation_001.jpg and saw a photo of trees. No people. Nothing or nowhere I recognized. Just trees. I arrowed to the next file. More trees. I kept arrowing. The forest still, like the photos where taken progressively as someone was walking. \n\nAbout a hundred photos in, the woods began to clear and revealed a narrow dirt road. It wasn’t anywhere near Queens. That was for sure. Several more hundred photos of the same dusty, rutted road and a house came into view. File Observation_0998.jpg narrowed my eyes on the screen. I could see the house’s mailbox with my last name stenciled on it. Observation_0999.jpg was a photo of the house’s front porch. A man, older,with white hair sneaking out from under a New York Yankees ball cap, was sitting on a chair set upon the porch under a wide awning. He was smiling, waving at the camera.\n\nObservation_1000 was a .txt file. It contained one line of text: *James, meet James.*\n\n*Part 1 originally appeared as response to [this prompt](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1x67wk/wp_a_strange_man_knows_a_worrying_amount_about/).*",
"It all started with that strange man on the subway.\n\nThat particular car was empty, except for the 2 men. The strange man sat with a look that suggested apathy or exhaustion. It was hard to tell. He stood, not to greet Parrish, but to shake his hand, not a word spoken nor a muscle on his face moved. He was shorter than Parrish was expecting, perhaps five foot six or five foot seven, though Parrish wasn't quite sure what to expect to begin with. Parrish eyed the man up-and-down, examining his clean but ill-fitting suit and the briefcase next to him.\n\n\"I was told you were who to meet. Pleasure. Steven Parrish.\" He said, hoping to break the ice. The strange man was not amused. He spoke with an accent that was shockingly bland and American; not a hint of foreign origin was to be detected, though it was evident in how he worded his sentences.\n\n\"Are you an idiot? Did they send to me, an idiot?\" The strange man asked, clearly irritated. Parrish spoke cautiously, not to further upset the man.\n\n\"I'm sorry, I-\"\n\n\"Don't speak.\" Said the strange man. \"Just sit down.\" After doing so, the strange man leaned towards Parrish and spoke again, this time in a hush, restrained whisper.\n\n\"You never start with your name. You don't say what you're name is. You do not say who you work for or what you are doing at a particular place, or what you had for fucking dinner. Nothing. You wait for me to talk. Do I make myself clear?\" He asked.\n\nParrish nodded. \"I understand. I apologize.\" The response provoked a sarcastic laugh and sneer from the strange man, who proceeded to look around the empty car as the train traveled along, before silently saying something to himself in his native tongue.\n\n\"Apologize. Ha. Do you know what the biggest problem is with Americans?\" He asked. Parrish shook his head.\n\n\"You apologize too much. You're pretty fucking rude, too, which is what makes it ironic.\" Said the strange man, pausing for a brief moment before continuing to speak.\n\n\"Nobody likes an apologist. Your country is going to make far too many in the distant future, believe me. That's when you'll really regret the men you elected.\" He said. Parrish remained silent. The two men sat in the awkward silence for roughly 20 minutes before the strange man spoke once more, as the train came to a slow at one of its many scheduled stops.\n\n\"The paperwork. Do you have it?\" He asked.\n\n\"Yes.\" Replied Parrish.\n\n\"Good. Than you'll understand the reasoning my colleagues and I have for doing this.\" Said the strange man, as several nondescript men boarded the subway car. Before Parrish could even glance at them, they all pounced on him like wild big cats on antelope, pinning him against the wall of the subway. Over the ensuing madness, he could hear the strange man raise his voice in a blasé attempt to calm his nerves.\n\n\"Just relax. They are searching you for recording devices, or cameras. This will only take a moment.\" He said as the men began to strip Parrish of his jacket and pants, sticking their calloused, utilitarian hands in every crevice of the garments. The strange assault lasted for only a few moments before one of the men searching Parrish said something to the strange man in his native language, and as soon as they had boarded the train, they left. It began to motion forward as Parrish gathered himself up from the corner of the subway car. \n\n\"I guess I was in for more than I expected..\" He said. The strange man nodded, a smirk forming on his face for the first time since Parrish had encountered him.\n\n\"They always are.\" Said the strange man as he approached Parrish, retrieving documents that had been removed from his jacket and were now sitting on an empty subway seat near Parrish. The strange man briefly glanced over them, staring particularly hard at the name on the top of the first page in the documents. RAYTHEON, it read, in bold letters. The strange man smiled again.\n\n\"Excellent, excellent. And now, as you were promised.\" Said the strange man, sliding his own briefcase towards Parrish. \n\n\"Go ahead. Open it.\"\n\nParrish nodded, unhinging the clips that held the briefcase shut. As it opened, he couldn't help but laugh, a confused but jovial sense of ecstasy coming over him. In the briefcase lay stack upon stack of hundred dollar bills.\n\n\"500 grand in all. I know we promised you 100, but I wanted to prove to you that we are in this for the long haul.\" Said the strange man. Parrish nodded, smiling. The strange man spoke again.\n\n\"When we need you again we'll let you know.\" The subway car's brief trip came to yet another slow as it approached one of its stops. Once it finally did stop, the strange man began to leave, documents in hand, but not before turning and facing Parrish once more.\n\n\"The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics thanks you for your cooperation. Have a nice day.\" He said, with an unexpected indifference in his voice. He gave Parrish a shoddy smile and nod before leaving, disappearing into the crowd, yet another nameless face. \n\nWhen the train finally reached his stop, Parrish left, briefcase in hand. As he exited the underground transit station, back into the bustling, non-stop life of the city, he stopped momentarily, to make a call at one of the public phones nearby.\n\nA female voice greeted him on the other end of the line.\n\n\"Honey? That you? Coming home?\" She asked.\n\n\"Yes, of course. Like always - just calling to let you know I made it safely.\"\n\n\"Good, good.\" She replied, before speaking again. \"I love you.\"\n\nParrish took a moment to look down at his briefcase before replying.\n\n\"I love you too.\" \n",
"He was very quiet, and to himself. He wore a tan trench coat and his hands were folded onto his abdomen. His gaze was low to the ground as if watching the floor. I didnt really pay much attention to him. The subway ride home was ussually very desolate, I rarely see anyone else. The lights over head were an annoying bright remnance of a supermarket. I didnt really want to look up either so I couldnt blame him. Id rather be at home taking a nap. I would take a nap here on the subway but it doesnt feel safe. I looked back at my fellow passenger and something was off, I thought he was farther away. Well he didnt get up, I didnt hear any footsteps so I mustve just thought he was farther. After a second of downing myself about how I should be more situationally aware, I looked down ay my ipod. I havent put any new songs on this thing in so long, I dont wanna really listen to arcade fire for the thousandth time. The subway went dark as we passed through a tunnel, the low hum and ba-dunk of the tracks was calming for the few seconds it went by. The lights opened back up and there was another shadow in front of my shoes. The man with the tan trench coat was sitting up in the seat across from me. I looked up to be more aware only to be met by his wide open eyes. He looked at me as if he was in an urgent hurry, his arms rested on his lap. \n\"What do you want man?\" I said keeping eye contact for only a split second.\n\" I want to save you\" He said, unmoving, and unwavering in his stare.\nI smiled a little, his intentions sounded good but im pretty sure hes a fuckin nutjob.\n\" From what ?\"\nAs he opened his mouth to answer the train came to an abrupt halt that threw me to my left. I caught myself on the seat next to me and hoisted back up. The man with the tan trench coat was standing up, holding on to one of the poles. He opened up his trench coat pocket with his right hand and dug his left into it, almost to far down. He fuddled around a little, elbow deep into what seemed like a small pocket. He lifted his head back up in focus and haphazourdly pulled out a very tiny pouch. It was tied off with a yellow string and had a big \"HJ\" engraved in stiched letters. He yanked off the string and flung the powder all around us covering my head and creating a very odd smell. \n\" This smells like smoke\" I said questioning him.\n\" What the fuck are you doi...\"\nThe greying man in the tan trench coat put his hobo-esque hand on my mouth and peered in to the window behind me. I latched my hands around his to regain some control but he just slapped them away. I wanted to see what he was looking at behind me so I tried to make out something in the opposite windows reflection. I saw a a big red light that just kept blinking, on and off. The red light blunk like an alarm clock and made an organic clicking noise like a when you click your tounge on the roof of your mouth. The greying man with a tan trench coat clenched his teeth and stared ever more vigilant.\n\" Come on, just walk away...... \""
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[WP] A Beauty and the Beast story, only with the genders reversed.
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[
"\"Dieter?\"\n\n\"Yes love?\" He answers.\n\nQueen Malvina says nothing, filling the empty space by refilling her cup of tea.\n\n\"I was thinking... perhaps you'd like to spent some time away from the castle? For a few months? There's a manor out in the countryside that belongs to me. It's rather beautiful I think. I mean, I, at least that's what I remember. It's been over a century since last I was there and a small girl at that, but it's tucked up there in the mountains and surrounded by forest and is built right next to a gorgeous lake with water pure and clear and I was just thinkin-\" She halts mid-sentance as Dieter takes her hand in his own, rubbing a callused thumb across her flawless skin.\n\n\"Malvina,\" He says smiling affection. \"I'd be delighted. Though I must know, why this all of a sudden?\"\n\nPain flickers behind Queen Malvina's eyes.\n\n\"You've been here for years now and I've forced you to stay here all this time and well, I just want you to be happy.\" She says, eyes flickering downward.\n\nChuckling, he kisses her gently on the lips, sending flutters through her.\n\n\"Malvina. I'm happiest with you. That's all I need in my life.\" He lets his words linger in the air, turning his gaze at the ceiling paintings and aged tapestries. \"Though I won't lie in saying a change of scenery wouldn't be nice for a spell. Speaking of which, do you feel up for a performance?\" \n\nQueen Malvina blushes meekly, staring down into her teacup with a slight smile on her lips.\n\n\"I'm not sure, perhaps some other time.\" She replies.\n\n\"Then a story, stars know I've told my fair share.\"\n\nQueen Malvina raises her head, nodding it in agreement.\n\n\"Your right. What would you like to hear?\" She asks.\n\n\"You were going to talk about it last time, but hour grew too late. Malvina, what was Mordnacht?\"\n\nThe silence echoes in the room.\n\n\"Mordnacht was, is responsible for everything that has happened. My powers, my people being undead. Everything.\" She finally says.\n\n\"What was it? He says with grim interest in his storm gray eyes.\n\n\"A monster. Like me.\"\n\nShe rises from her seat, walking over to gaze out the open window.\n\n\"When she awoke, darkness swept over the land. She could control the weather-\"\n\n\"Like you.\" Dieter says softly.\n\nMalvina nods her head. \"Yes, exactly like me. And so she brought forth a night that lasted an entire year. Crops failed, animals died and soon so did people. Exactly what she wanted. She emerged from her lair and took flight, her shrieks heard from end to end of the island. She flew over the island, and wherever she went the dead arose. Many battles have been fought here, many people buried over the centuries. All clawed their way out of the soil to do her bidding. In a matter of days she had an army larger than the living population of the island. Uncountable it was. Unspeakable the horror of it.\"\n\n\"Many brave and selfless knights died protecting the innocents and many more perished trying to slay her and her lieutenants, those very same men who awoken her. My great-great-grandfather, King Finnbar, called together an army to defeat her. 50,000 against a horde twenty times that size. The battle was terrible and many died, consumed by the walking dead or slain by rusting blades and pitted spears. My great-grandfather fought Mordnacht, wounding her at the cost of his own life. She fled in pain, and the rest of her army collapsed into so much bone and rotted flesh. And that was the end of the War of the Undead.\"\n\n\"Many years passed, and people tried to forget those dark times, and for the most part they did. But my family never did. Our gaze was ever up at the mountains and their numerous lairs and caverns. But for a hundred years, she did not come down from the mountains, no doubt healing from the wounds inflicted upon her by my ancestor. That changed however, when I was born.\"\n\n\"My mother was a delicate woman, not suited for a life on land. I was killing her. Desperate, as often these stories go, my father sought help from places her shouldn't have.\"\n\n\"Mordnacht.\" Dieters murmurs quietly. \n\n\"Yes. He rode to her lair, and begged her. He begged her to use her gift to save his wife and child. He would pay any price he said. She accepted and flew to the castle with him in her talons. Arriving, she informed my father what she could do. She could only save one of us. One life for one death. Nothing comes without a price. My father, though never cold hearted, loved my mother more than anythings else in the world. Children can be conceived again, their love could not. But my mother wouldn't hear any of it. She said-\" Malvina pauses for a moment, pressing the back of her hand to her lips. \"She said would gladly sacrifice herself for her daughter, like my grandmother did for her. She died and I lived. Because of that monster, my mother is dead. But that creature did not stop there. No. She cursed me with the same powers she possessed. The powers to give life and take it away. She made me into a monster like her. It is because of her my subjects are cursed with undeath.\" \n\n\nThe room is still as the pair sit in silence, thinking. Dieter finally breaks the dreadful quiet.\n\n\"So when do we leave for that manor?\" he says, putting extra effort into the cheerfulness of his voice.\n\nFor her part, Malvina makes the effort to smile, that effort growing more genuine as she admires his storm gray eyes. \n\n\"Within the week if you'd so like.\"\n\nDieter leans over to kiss her again, sending another wave of flutters through her.\n\n\"I'd like that very much.\" He says softly.",
"I haven't written anything since high school, which was a decade ago, but here is the beginning of my clumsy attempt.\n\n\nThe Beast stirred from a fitful, restless sleep. She raked her jagged claws across her forehead, desperate for any sensation of the waking world. The straw of her bed was damp with sweat, worsening the heavy scent of mildew that clung to the air.\n\nShe froze in the darkness, suddenly aware of the offending sound which had pulled her from a nightmare.\n\nHorseshoes on cobbles. Her cobbles.\n\nThe Beast dashed from her mattress, unheedful of the thin layer of ice covering the frozen floor. She yelped as her hurry dashed her body into the door before she turned the key in the lock.\n\n-\n\nThe Boy pulled his horse’s reins tight at the angry yelp that echoed through the darkness. “Only a dog,” he whispered to himself, though the tension in his horse’s quiver confirmed otherwise.\n\nHe again glanced behind him, toward what remained of the village which had raised him. Though he could no longer see the burning embers, even the heavy rain could not stifle the putrid smell of smoke floating on the currents.\n\nThe sound of rolling thunder drowned the agonized screams of the few survivors as they were found by the Vikings. Despite the thudding in his chest, he urged his horse onward.\n\n-\n\nThe Beast careened down the spiral staircase, taking them three at a time. They had agreed to leave her to her crumbling castle if she ceased to show her face in the daylight, and she had done her part, hadn’t she? If an occasional sheep or goat had gone missing in the night, well, she had to eat too.She would have to remind them why she was here, what her kind could do, had done, to unwelcome intruders in the years past.\n\nThe Beast shook her head in fury as she leapt over the final triplet of stairs, landing on all fours. She lifted the tarred log that served as a barricade and tossed it to the floor. A snarl escaped her furled lips as she flung her body through the doorway and into the frigid storm.\n\n-\n\nThe Boy’s stomach turned, and he tasted bile in his mouth. He knew that the village Guardian was his only hope of survival, small as that hope may have been. No one had seen the Guardian in two generations, though hunting parties often returned with tales of hearing its solitary howl echo through the hills in the still of the night. \n\n“Enough to wake you from your dead mead sleep,” Cristoval had told him somberly. “Enough to make grown men fear to blink. Imagine that’s the last thing that young Alonzo boy heard ‘afore his head was snatched from his shoulders.” At this, Cristoval had clapped the Boy on the back and shown his remaining teeth in a wide grin as he cackled into his cup of mead.\n\nThe Boy’s knee buckled as he dismounted his wide-eyed mare, and he landed hard on his elbow. The horse tossed its head and nervously side-stepped, narrowly missing the Boy. The cold had sapped all sensation from his trembling hands, and he cursed as they struggled to secure the reins to the final intact column of the bridge. \n\nOver the sound of the heavy rain, he heard a heavy snort but could see only blackness as he lifted his head toward the terrible sound.\n\n-\n\nThe Beast quickly circumnavigated the boy so she was down wind. Where was his torch? Where were the others? A lone boy on a tittering horse posed an unlikely threat.\n\nShe caught the scent of burned flesh on the wind. Hunters seldom ventured close to her grounds since the day it happened. She stood on her hind feet to catch a more telling scent.\n\n\n\nNot certain if it's worth continuing, but thank you for the writing inspiration!",
"Emily looks with disgust into the magical mirror- her scars looked particularly horrendous today. She should’ve known better than to try to shave the fur but then again she was only thirteen when she tried. She runs her claws across the table crying out in pain- she was absolutely hopeless. She had contemplated suicide but she was a coward as much as she was selfish. She now regretted her decision to turn the beggar away on that cold winter’s night but the servants of the castle still debated whether it was truly her selfishness or the punishment that she regretted the most. As her black and soulless eyes stare at the perfectly red rose that possessed more beauty than she could ever have, her new prisoner enters with a pile of books in his hands.\n\n“You really mean it? I can read any of the books in your library?” He asks incredulously reading the first page of one already.\n\n“Yes, that is why I said it. Will you leave?” she snaps with anger.\n\nEvan looks up, “Thank you. Are you alright Em?”\n\nEmily’s heart flutters as he says her name and then it sinks as she remembers her hideous appearance.\n\n“I’m fine.” She lies causing Evan to leave with his new collection of books. \n\nA few hours later she wanders downstairs to see Evan reading contently while nibbling on some food.\n\n“Did you even clean today?” Emily asks as she wipes the candelabra. \n\nEvan nods quietly and then lies, “Yes I did.” \n\nEmily looks into his eyes trying to see the veracity behind his words but just as he suspected; she really couldn’t tell with the amount of dust around the castle. \n\nEvan bites his lip wondering whether to ask the question on his mind and then gives in, “I thought I heard you crying before. Are you sure you’re okay?” \n\nEmily feels rage boil up inside of her and she knocks all of the books off the table as well as the plate. \n\nIt shatters into pieces and Evan backs up fearfully as she goes off, “How dare you question me! What am I? A weakling? Are you trying to intimidate me? Do you think you can fool the beast?”\n\nEvan bows his head knowing she would never let up unless he admitted defeat, “Of course not Emily. I’m sorry.” \n\nEmily takes a deep breath awkwardly unsure what to do considering he gave up so easily. It made her feel as ugly inside as her outside to make him look so scared and so defeated. \n\n“Go find a good dinner Evan. You can’t live on snacks. Why are you dressed so nicely anyway?” she asks in a lighter tone.\n\nEvan shrugs sensing the mood change, “The wardrobe gave them to me and said I’d look good.”\n\nEmily nods and turns away to head to the ballroom knowing that the wardrobe was right but at the same time wishing he was still in his tattered jeans and patchwork shirt; seeing him so princely made her feel like a dragon. \n\nEvan calls after Emily and asks, “Is it okay if I change into something more comfortable?”\n\nEmily nods surprised and gives a quick smile before heading to the ballroom. Evan goes upstairs and changes his outfit hoping it would help her mood. She seemed to act strange whenever he was well shaven and dressed in the fancy suits of the castle so he tried to keep a little disheveled most of the time for her own comfort. \n\n\nIn the ballroom, Emily gazes up at the stars and puts her hood down for a moment as she takes a deep breath. She hears footsteps behind her and instantly puts it back up and spins around ready to yell.\n\nEvan puts his hands up defensively and says, “I just wanted to tell you that I made a pizza before. I put the leftovers in the oven.”\n\nEmily looks at the rugged boy now in ripped jeans and a stained tshirt, his hair sticking in all directions. \n\n“You could’ve put them in the fridge,” she says not with hostility but not kindly either. \n\n“It would’ve gotten cold,” Evan states walking to Emily’s side.\n\n“You left the stove on?!?” Emily asks worriedly looking to the hallway leading to the kitchen. \n\nEvan shrugs, “Yeah, but I’m sure it turned itself off by now. Does the stove let food burn?” \n\nEmily shrugs, “I’m sure he was paying attention but you still should try to read a cookbook sometime. The amount of close calls you’ve had in my kitchen is far too many.” \n\nEvan chuckles and looks up at the stars. Just a few weeks ago, he was gazing up at the same night sky but instead of being the content prisoner of Emily, he was a horribly depressed prisoner of his judgmental town, his kooky father, and his overwhelmingly crazy wannabe fiancée; Things weren’t quite so bad now that he was free to express himself. He grins at Emily and wonders how she could be so sad in a place that was so liberating.\n\nEmily blushes and teases, “You are grinning like an idiot Evan.”\n\nHe laughs, “It’s a good night, what can I say? Hey Em, If it’s just me and you, then why do you wear that cloak?”\n\nEmily takes a deep breath and crosses her arms protectively, “I am a beast.”\n\nEvan looks at her cautiously, “Not really. You kind of remind me of my horse.”\n\n“Your horse?!?!” Emily shouts in disbelief.\n\nEvan shakes his head, “No! Not in a bad way! She was my best friend. The only one who would let me read to her. She liked me even if I was a dork.” \n\nEmily sees his eyes soften for a minute before looking back up at the stars.\n\n“Being a dork isn’t too bad. You’re a sweet dork at least,” she mutters.\n\nEvan blushes with the goofy smile which released butterflies in Emily’s stomach. \n\nHe gives in to his vulnerability hoping to inspire trust in Emily, “People look at me as if I were a beast back at home for wanting to read. They don’t understand me. They think I’m just hot.” \n\nEmily shakes her head, “Then they aren’t worth it. You’ve got a pretty face but you’re more than that and you know it.” \n\nEvan looks at her, “Then maybe you’re more than just a beast.” \n\nEvan and Emily gazed up at the stars both a little scared, neither one prepared, but realizing for the first time that each of them might be more than just a beauty or a beast. \n"
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[WP] You are the aging lead singer of one of the most prolific music groups of all time. Finally, your long overdue Behind the Music airs. The origins of the band's name has always been a secret, but you have decided to reveal where the moniker "Rabbithole Gangbang" came from.
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"Interviewer: so, I know you guys get asked this every time. But well, I have a feeling today's my lucky day. Where's the band name come from?\n\nLead: well, yeah, we kinda wanted to find a reason, but well. Like. That's why we avoided it every time and stuff. But well. There is none, we just thought it sounds cool.\n\nBassist: yeah, we was like, just like jamming and shit then we were like thinking of names cause we wanted something deep and clever like, then trev just went \"rabbithole gangbang\" and we were like. What.\n\nTrev (the Lead): yeah and the rest was history.\n\nInterviewer: oh... Well that's disappointing.\n\nThe lead: well, now you know why we put it off, we kept trying to like work backwards from the name and come up with a meaning. But then we just went \"Fuck It. It doesn't have to have a meaning.\"\n\nInterviewer: oh. Alright... Well, it was fun guys, I hope your next album does well. You guys deserve it.",
"Rickett looked at the faded yellow notepad in his lap, crossing off subjects as they talked them over (rather touched on briefly). On the next line was scribbled \"renaming?/band name?\". Rickett fiddled with his pen briefly. \n\"So, Marlon. It is common knowledge that names and titles are sort of a omnipresent medium of expression in your guys' music\". \n\"Yeah, have always been into cryptic stuff. I read Pynchon once and that was that. You know?\" \nRickett nodded. He felt like the pretension exuded from his subject could raise the temperature in the studio by a good two or three degrees. He continued. \n\"My question, I suppose is a two parter. Your name, just before you started writing music professionally I suppose, was Marley Jackson, you then changed it to Marlon Jonston. Was it for legitimacy or because it sounded cool or what? Secondly, the band name Rabbithole Gangbang. Obviously, very famous. You guys were prolific for the better part of the decade. You redefined punk music for the latter half and influenced so many. How is that you came to that name?\" \nThere was a pause. A black and white static with annoyed intent glossed over Marlon's faux-doughed eyed gaze. He toyed with his black raybans before putting them on. He tapped the left temple frame, looking down, giving Rickett his best \"rock prophet\". \n\"Well, a lot of the music early on came from an angry spot, you know? I got bullied. So I changed my name and left that shit hole I grew up in to trek out on my own for my art\". \n\"You grew up Lexington right? What was so bad about it?\" \n\"I needed to see something real. That place was plastic!\" He straightened in his chair, the Rock God about to educate this puritanical \"music\" journalist. \n\"You guys and your suits, you are plastic incarnate!\" \nRickett's mouth contorted into a misshapen corn hole, he was trying to fight back against using the obvious retort of Billboard evidence that proved how far and away from legitimacy he truly was. \n\"O..hokay. Anyway, the band name Rabbithole Gangbang. It's been plenty of time. You think you can tell me it's origins? It's something so many of your fans and my readers have been interested in\". \n\"I suppose it's the most obvious answer broheim. Our music is like, a rabbit hole. You don't know how far it goes down, but once you reach a certain point. The music, like overwhelms you. Makes you want to act out, you know? Sexually, it just makes you want to grab a couple guys, and a couple girls and a couple you don't know whats and just go to town. Our music as that power, man\". The prophet eased back in his chair, his own answer giving him a relaxation that recognized power trips and hot stone massages can only give. \n\n",
"Where did our band name come from? Man, we get asked that in every interview. We always decline to comment, smile enigmatically, and ask for the next question. But, you know, after decades of making music, having fun, and playing for the fans - we're gonna answer it.\n\nRabbithole Gangbang. I'm sure, by now, our fans have constructed thousands upon thousands of theories, each more complicated and amusing than the last. Everyone assumes its some kind of hilarious inside joke. It's not, not really.\n\nIt's very simple where it comes from. Back when we first started playing together, I had an Xbox 360, real old school compared to today's game consoles. We decided we wanted a game to play after our practices and first small shows. Something fun, that'd help us relax. So, we bought Rockband 3, I think it was. We had to create a band name and the game automatically suggested a name for every new band. \n\nI'm not sure if there was a error in the code or something, but the first time we popped in the game and created our band, it popped up with the band name \"Rabbithole Gangbang\". We laughed our asses off and the name stuck."
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[WP] You enter the dank, cold room and stand there in the light. On the table you see an envelope
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[
"I wake from my sleep as my growing hunger starts to hurt my stomach, so I get up and stretch my arms up, trying to wake up a little. I stride to the bedroom door, scratch my back, then swing the door open. I take a step out, shivering when I notice the hallway was *so cold*. \n\nI descended down the stairs into my musky living room, walking past the old batted-down couch and pass the small TV & vanity. I stopped and scratched my back one more time, then went down another flight of stairs to the basement to meet my extra freezer. When I get down on the slightly damp concrete ground, I walk over to the box of frozen food and take out a pizza, stopping for a moment when I hear a creak. \n\n\"It was probably nothing..\" I yawn. I hold the pizza tight in my grip as I walk up the concrete then carpet steps, shaking my head because whoever made this house was so stupid to put concrete and carpet together. I make my way back to the living room, then walking into the kitchen and turning on the oven. I lean back on the kitchen counter and set the pizza down, yawning when my arms touch the granite. I almost drift into a light sleep before the timer went off when the oven was done pre-heating. I took the pizza out of the box and out of the plastic then slid it in. I remembered to turn on the timer and I set that too. \n\nI got out of the kitchen and sat down at my kitchen table. It was dark, so I turned on the lights and found an envelope sitting there.\n\n*\"Shit, Nope, Nope, Nope, Nope.\"* I whisper. I run into the kitchen right when the timer goes off, then I quickly turn it off and take the pizza out of the oven. I let it cool down, then cut it and swiftly take the whole pizza into my room. I notice the clock as it says \n\n**5:34**\n\nI sigh and eat my pizza, really mad that I didn't get much sleep. But now that I was awake, I went downstairs and saw the envelope *still* sitting on the table. I nearly screamed I was so mad. I sat down at the table angrily and ripped open the letter and read the short note;\n\n**I'm watching.**\n\n**\"NOT EVEN GONNA\"** I yelled. I threw away the note, then ran up to my room and stuck my face to my pillow. I screamed muffled screams as I felt a cool hand glide around my back, sending shivers down my spine. I flip over violently and didn't see anything, So I positioned myself with the covers over my head, trembling with fear. \n\n**\"Not even freaking gonna..\"** I whisper.",
"I didn’t need to fall this far. There it was though, and after everything that’s happened, it only seemed so very fleeting. Like a down-low lover’s whisper right before you fall asleep, only afterwards to find everything so empty and cold. But here I was, and there the envelope was. Haltingly, my feet inched every step--my body knew better than I. \n////\n\nA momentary shriek, like a mic dropping, came from above, breaking my gait. A faceless voice, feminine almost but any other defining feature was hardly discernible and one could never infer anything given this line of work, crackled, “Here is your payment, take it and be welcome to it. Thank you for your patronage.” \n\nMy heart stood at a precipice at that precise moment, and I did the unthinkable. I looked back, and it was a terrible mistake. \n\nThe falling grace of a human being is not found in others. We, as social creatures, mutely understand that no one will ever be able to fully understand another: an experience is a unique event that correlates with and reacts to prior experiences. When two people watch a tragedy of a dead mother and a loving son, one may cry deeply for he knows what it is like to lose a mother as a son, and the other may only tear slightly, understanding that it is, indeed, a sad event but that is how the world revolves: dead mothers and weeping sons. We know, to at least a certain degree, that others will never fully know who we are. When we are hated, despised, loved, celebrated, and tolerated, we see ourselves through them. We determine our self-worth through the beliefs of others, and that is a fallacy on our part; who knows ourselves better than us? Aspiring to be more though, our eyes are set upon the stars above, and each other. But when we begin to see ourselves through our own eyes, when the lights dim and the inner eyes avert their gaze, disgusted with who we’ve become and terrified of what we’re capable of and unloved for what we’ve done, that is when we fall. That is the falling grace of a human being. If you, my dear reader, have ever begun to disbelieve and hate yourself for merely existing, you have merely tasted the echoes ringing through a walking dead man. \n\n////\n\nI took the envelope, and walked out. \n",
"I sit at the hard metal table, the chair creaking as i pull it out. My body trembles as it adjusts to the shockingly cold temperature. Tentative fingers stretch towards the large envelope sitting plainly in front of me, only somethings off about these fingers. \n\nThey're pale. Blinding white and bruised, the flesh a deep purple around the edges of the fingernails. My subconscious decided to think noting of it as I pulled the parcel towards me. \n\n *This is what you were and what you have come to be. These are the events that made you who you are*\n\nI don't flinch as the chilling words ring through the room, my fingers persistent of their task. I gently reach into the envelope, only to find several pictures of a young girl with golden hair. She's laughing, some other girl about her age standing beside her. Next picture, the same girl, a tad older, holding a small puppy in her arms; Her face pleading for the dog to stay. \n\nI continue to scroll through the various memories captured in the photos, unable to arouse any form of recognition to any of events. *Matthew.* I remain frozen for a few moments, completely stunned by a beautiful wedding picture. The bride is dressed in a very elegant gown, her hair falling in a cascade of curls around her. Beside her is a very familiar man, his nose slightly bent from a previous break. \n\n\"That's.... My Husband....\" I choke out quietly, tears suddenly spilling over my cheeks. I remember now, the girl was my best friend in 2^nd grade, Emily was her name. We grew up to be the best of friends, she was even my maid of honor at my wedding. Matthew was a quirky little fellow I met during my sophomore year in college, I still remember the day. He sat beside me in my engineering class and we talked a few times, though it wasn't until I caught him sneaking into a private sorority party that we actually started talking. Little did I know we were to be wed and with two children 10 years down the road. \n\nI flick to the next photograph to see a frail old woman laying in a bed a man with a slight bend in his nose kneeling beside her, clutching the woman's hand like his life depended on it. \n\n*Angeline, You're time has expired, you may now choose a side.*\n\nTwo massive doors slid open on either side of me, one leading into darkness and one opening up into a brilliant light. I stood, tears still staining my cheeks, and casually strolled towards the lit door, hoping Matthew and our kids were coping well. \nIt was really hard adjusting to my new lifestyle, but i actually enjoy it much better this way. All the annoyances from my past life gone, being able to finally relax. I'm able to wait for my Matthew in comfort, of course I don't willingly wish him here. Not many people are able to cope with dying. \n",
"The boy with the knife snuck in through the basement. The only low window was locked from the inside, but a medium-sized rock took care of that. Had it been another time, he might have thought twice about the noise and mess. But as it was, his mind was on other things.\n\nPausing only for a moment to knock what pieces were left of the glass out, he pulled himself through, wincing as the leftovers of his desperate job carved scratches down his torso. Most boys his age wouldn’t have fit through.\n\nHe found himself in a vast room, cold from the sinking, conditioned air, and mildewy about the old brick walls. To his right was a furnace and some washing and drying machines, but not what he was looking for. To his left was a rickety staircase, comprised of level boards and some wooden framing. Silently, he climbed it.\n\nThis is what he hated most - this part of himself; the part of which he could never speak; the part that he tried not to feel guilt for - that he sometimes tried to convinced himself was explainable. He wished no one would be home, because he knew that if it came to it, he wouldn't hold back his knife. And that was what sickened him most. But his mind was on other things.\n\nAt the top of the staircase was a steel door. He briefly panicked as he grasped the handle, but it opened inward with only a slight creak.\n\nHe moved fast, making his way purposefully through the house, intuitively assuming the most likely layout. He found the kitchen within a minute, and with a look over his shoulder, opened the refrigerator.\n\nA necklace, tripled round as a bracelet, slipped off his minuscule hand onto the linoleum floor. If you were there, that night, at first glance it would have seemed worthless - a simple cord attached to two sticks wrapped together in the shape of a cross by a bent paper clip. But then you would have seen the clammy, depraved hands that snatched at it. And you would have heard the rasping gasps of horror that the boy made as he dived across the floor after it.\n\nIn the light from the refrigerator, he stared at the necklace longer than he knew he ought to have, remembering an afternoon long since past - a time before the end of joy.\n\nHis mother had been a kind soul. He vaguely remembered the rules he’d had to memorize on the day that she gave it to him.\n\n*”We do not?”*\n\n*“Lie?”*\n\n*”Yes, that’s right! And we do not?”*\n\n*”Steal?”*\n\n*”Yes! That’s* good*, Thomas!”*\n\nAngry tears began to form. The boy felt a shame run across his face, and a sorrow down his heart, remembering some of the things he’d done.\n\n*”We do not?”*\n\n*”Kill!”*\n\n*”Very good, Thomas!”*\n\nThe boy closed his eyes. Remembering some of the things he’d done.\n\n*“We do not?”*\n\n…\n\nThe boy couldn’t remember the rest.\n\nHe looked at the contents of the fridge and felt gnawing want that tore not only through his belly, but through his every limb and bone and piece and part. He looked down at his necklace and felt a deeper want that gnawed on his very self.\n\nSilently, slowly, he closed the door, and made his way to the basement stairs.\n\nHe held the cross gently in his hand still. Then pressed it firmly to his chest, hoping for it or anything to fill the dreadful weakness that threatened to overcome him even then.\n\nIf you were there, that night, at first glance you wouldn’t have given another to the house in the middle on Webster Road. But then you would have seen the shadow, thin as a wisp, that slipped from the basement window and around the back, unnoticed, unneeded, unhelped.\n\n**To Be Continued. I just can't do it tonight.**"
] | 4 |
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[WP] "Die on me."
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[
"I looked at him lying there on his hospital bed. I saw a frail, wrinkled old man lying there staring back at me as the sun from the hospital window beamed down to his sunken face.\n\n\"Ralph? R- Ralph... Come h- here boy\" he croaked, as he let out a dry cough.\n\nMy son, Ralph got up, and walked over to him without words. He leans over, to allow the man's fading whispers to be heard. I sit there, watching my son, as he looks over at me. His eyes, empty of all hope, seemingly soulless. A single solitary tear rolls down my son's otherwise dry face. He looks back down at the man, and kisses him on the forehead, with a touch so tender and loving.\n\n\"James..\" the man from the hospital bed says, as he gently beckons me over with his hand, barely a few inches off the white sheets of the hospital bed.\n\n\"Mind giving us some time alone, hun?\" I said to my now sobbing wife.\n\nShe steadily stood up, and without a word she walked out of the room, as if in a trance-like state. My sons were soon to follow their weeping mother. As they left the room, i look down at the man laying on the hospital bed. Our eyes quickly met. I check behind me to make sure my grieving family members have gone. I look back, and he begins to speak:\n\n\"James... y- you're the bes-\"\nI cut him off\n\n\"*Shhhhh*\" I say almost silently as i lean in as close as i can to the dying man's grey ear, and whisper:\n\n\"You've always wanted the best for me in life.. You wanted me to grow up to accomplish my dreams.. And now I'm about to. You've always bragged about your money, but kept it from the people you \"*loved*\".. You're a selfish, greedy, shell of a man. Honestly, it's about time. After all these years of wishing, and waiting for you to just die on me already... \"\n\nAs i lift my head away, I look at the expression. Tears are now pouring down his face faster than I'd ever seen before. His face was completely soaked. I notice he was fumbling for the nurse button on the side of his bed, but it's just out of reach; thank god. He attempted to cry for help, but to no avail. The old man couldn't even sit up more than a couple of inches without wincing in pain. I grabbed one of the many pillows next to his legs. \n\n\"It's time for you to go now... Goodbye, Dad.\"\nI said, as i pressed the pillow firmly against my father's face, until his struggling ceased.."
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[WP] "Don't come back for me."
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[
"Six months since the fall of man. Six months of uncertainty, fear, running. Six months living from moment to moment. The roads were dangerous, the cities uninhabitable. Traveling was grueling work, the stalled or abandoned cars, the road blocks set up before the abandonment. There were no more doctors’ visits, no more dental work; there was no more GPS, internet, Google. Death had become us, we wander; we are lost.\n\n“How bad is it?” Karen asked. She knew it was bad. Lee was going to die. \n\n“It’s bad,” Keith said. He stole a quick glance over his shoulder, Lee was sitting with his back against a burned out car. “We can carry him. Build a sledge. There is a town up ahead. We can get the supplies there.”\n\nThey stood, debating morosely, about their dire situation. Every day was a challenge, a nightmare. It was, according to the street sign that had been tagged, vandalized, and shot full of bullet holes in the last six months, ten miles to this town. Ten miles there, ten back. That would take the whole day, maybe longer if they encountered resistance. \n\n“Okay,” Keith said, “we’ll move Lee off the road, obviously. We can hightail it to town and be back by the early morning if we’re lucky.”\n\n“I don’t think this is going to work,” Karen said, “we can’t set the bone. It looks bad. It’s not a clean break.”\n\n“We don’t need your negativity right now.” Keith turned on Karen. “We are going to help him. And if you’re not going to help us, then you can get lost.”\n\nRichard was looking past Karen and Keith. He could see the pain in Lee’s face but there was something else there too. Acceptance, maybe. Every day they all wondered if today was going to be the day that they die. Maybe he was glad that at least he *knew* finally. Maybe he was tired of this hell. Richard knew he was. \n\nRichard pushed past Keith and Karen who’d lapsed into tense silence. \n\n“How’re you doin’?” Richard asked Lee, kneeling down in front of him. “We’re going to get you some help.” \n\nLee nodded his understanding. He knew that he was done for. Done with this hell that was left in the wake of humanity. But Keith felt it was his duty to try and save everyone. They all felt it, the desire to save, but the harsh reality wore down that desire until there was only the shell of a person left. Keith was only projecting his insecurity, his inability to accept that this was the end. \n\n“Okay,” Keith said coming over. “We’re going to get you off the road here, into the cover of the trees there. We’re going to go to the next town and get what we need.” \n\nLee nodded. He let them lift him, drag him, place him up against a tree out of sight of the road. He didn’t complain. He grimaced and bit down to avoid screaming out in pain. He was resolved in his fate even if Keith wasn’t.\n\nAs they gathered around Lee, looking down at him, they said their temporary goodbyes. \n\n“We’ll be back before you know it,” Keith said. Richard watched him and felt a tremendous sense of guilt. The future was written, there was no avoiding it. \n\nAs they walked back towards the road Lee’s voice came weakly from behind them. “Keep going. Find a better place.” They reached the road, Lee’s voice carried on the breeze, “Don’t come back for me.”\n",
"Sometimes there is no story. It's not even a sacrifice. It's just a statement. \n\nDon't come back for me.\n\nFor the love of all that I hold dear, don't come back to me. I have reached my end. My words falter, my heart begins to slow for you.\n\nYou and I, we lasted a millennium in our hearts. We would last a millennium more if we had only 4 more minutes. In Mandarin, 4 sounds a lot like death, did you know that?\n\nI love you, from the beginning of time until the last goddamn fucking star in the universe snuffs out.\n\nBut, don't you fucking dare come back for me.\n\nTell our loved ones we were triumphant. This departure between us is permanent, but what we feel is eternal. I have no words to make you feel better.\n\nDo you remember when we sat underneath the fireworks? It was one of our first dates. We didn't realize how closely we had wandered to the display and we got such an amazing show. Our chests pounded with the fireworks. We didn't kiss that night, but we were closer than any people out there.\n\nThat memory made you smile. It's one of my favorites too. The tears. They are warm and salty. They run down my face because I know soon the curtains will draw for good. There is no piercing the veil for us, only grasping at shadows that dance between our fingers.\n\nThough I will stay with you through the last moments, we will be separated by a chasm that cannot be seen to the other side. \n\nI beg of you, don't come back for me. \n\nI love you. In a little bit, you'll fade and shuffle from this mortal coil. I wish I could save you from the tragedy that occured, but I was helpless.\n\nI am not a God fearing man, but for you, I hope there is a beyond. I hope you find happiness beyond belief. \n\nYou are my angel, I love you until the end of time. I can barely see as I tell you this. But, please....\n\nDon't come back for me.",
"His words still burn in her mind. That was *his* mission, *his* self-imposed task; to die here in this god-forsaken laboratory in this god-forsaken city run by madmen and fools.\n\nShe remembers it all in piercing clarity: the pitter-patter of their footsteps as they ran down the stark white halls; the klaxon alarm blaring overhead, drowning out the shouts of the surprised guards; her hand, finding his, pulling—nearly—dragging him to the exit which was so close she could reach out and grasp the image of the door in her hand.\n\nThey were supposed run out of that door together. They were supposed to escape that lab together. They were supposed to head back to the Underground and share a meal by the fire with their friends and comrades-in-arms. They were supposed to spend just one more moment together; one more moment to be so desperately happy to be alive, yet equally terrified for the future.\n\nBut he pushed her. She was sent tumbling through the doorway. She, of course, yelled at him, demanding that he come with her and he just smirked at her, with that self-important, ego-boosting smirk. The kind of smirk used just after winning a debate or a battle.\n\nHe turned from her, pulling out his blade, readying his stance to defend the doorway from the stampede of laboratory guards. He had told her to run, to escape and head back to the Underground. She yelled back at him, demanding that he come with her.\n\nHe had relaxed his stance and turned to her, his blue eyes making contact with her green ones. He held her gaze, communicating with her silently, even as the world around them blared on, with the shrilling alarm above, the shouts of the guards behind him, and the roar of the rebel transport behind her.\n\nShe broke their gaze and he had smirked again at her. She had looked up at him again, her green eyes shimmering as her tears threatened to spill over. “I cannot leave you here to die,” she yelled at him, gasping as her tears ran down her tanned cheeks.\n\n“I am your guardian, Princess, your life is more valuable than mine,” he responded, stepping closer to the doorway, closer to her.\n\n“Screw that,” she cursed softly. “If I must lose you, then I would not wish to live.” She sniffled and stepped closer to him, as the rebels behind ran towards her.\n\n“Do not say such things, Annabelle!” He hissed at her, terrified over her words.\n\n“Even if my words are true, Sir Ethan?” She questioned him, her tear filled eyes boring holes into his own. Without waiting for an answer, she had pressed on. “I would not want to live in a world without you, Sir Ethan. You are the air in my lungs; without you, I cannot breathe; I cannot live!”\n\nWith such a declaration, she flung herself at him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled his mouth onto her own. His arms had wrapped around her as he nearly faltered with his blade. \n\nShe had poured herself into that kiss. That kiss, which had burned with the fire of a thousand suns. Both she and he lost themselves in such a magnificent kiss.\n\nBut he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers’. “I need you to leave, Annabelle.”\n\n“But, Sir Ethan…” she had begun, before he placed a finger to her soft and tender lips.\n\n“I can buy you and the others enough time to escape and make it back to the Underground,” he had spoken quickly, gently untangling himself from her gripping limbs. He looked behind him and then back towards his Princess. Reaching out, he cupped her cheek, smiling as she leaned into his touch. “I love you, Annabelle.”\n\nShe sniffled, desperately blinking back her tears. She smiled painfully, placing her hand over his, “and I love you, Ethan.”\n\nHe pressed his lips to hers once more, before pulling back with great effort. He knew that he would die here and he knew that their enemies would do terrible things to the bodies. He did not want her to see him like that.\n\nAs he thrusted his sword into the door controls, his eyes found her once again, for the last time. “Don’t come back for me.”\n",
"I told them we should have never burned her. \n\n\"What did you know, \" they said to me laughingly, \"you're just a child.\"\n\nWe should have never burned her. \n\nMidwinter's day twenty years ago an old woman hobbled into our little village, and went straight to the well in the center, cracked the ice that had formed on its surface with a dropped stone, and pulled up a bucket of cold water to quench her travel weary lips. \n\nI did not see her then, there is no one alive now who did. Though the stories made their rounds, especially after Saul the baker's children disappeared. \n\nThey said she walked with a stick that was carved to look like a human leg bone. Some said it was an actual bone she stole from some grave. Some said that she had a dark cloak made from a dozen living cats holding themselves together around her. These things never made sense to me, leg bones would be too short for any decent walking stick, and not even a king could command twelve cats to do anything at once. It doesn't matter what they said about her, just what they did to her. \n\nThe villagers were superstitious, and this can't be blamed. \n\nWilliam the smith and a handful of lads from the farms met her at the well, asked her business, and told her with no trace of politeness in their voice that she had to leave. \n\nThe rumor of plague had reached even our tiny remote village, and the horrific stories of cities filled with black, bloated bodies had turned even the most welcoming heart cold and afraid. All travelers were turned away, or chased away if they wouldn't listen. \n\nIf only she had just brought the plague. \n\nAccording to all accounts she threw down the bucket and spit at the feet of the men who faced her. Then she hobbled off into the woods. \n\nAnd four days later Saul's two children didn't come home. The day after that their bodies were found in the woods, torn apart. Any level-headed hunter or woodsman could have told you that this was the work of wolves. That children so young should not have been so far from home during a lean winter. There wasn't a single soul in the village that was level-headed then.\n\nA single word began spreading from mouth to ear: \"Witch\". \n\nGramma Ennis started telling all who would listen that the plague had been caused by witches. With her position as the oldest woman in the village, her words carried the weight of undeserved wisdom.\n\nAny other time the whole village would have come together to mourn with Saul and his wife over the tragic loss, and the story would be told to warn other children about the dangers of the woods. \n\nNot this time. This time, the men gathered in the inn and slowly drank themselves brave enough to start a search. \n\nIt turns out the old woman had holed up in a cave not far from the river, maybe she was planning on waiting out the winter.\n\nThey dragged her out, the men cheered and shouted as if they had caught some cunning prey. She was brought into the village center, not far from the well where once she drank. No one listened to her claim of innocence. And the decision was made that she was to burn. \n\nEveryone from miles around came to see the fire. My stomach churns with my memory of the spectacle. If you didn't know what was going on in the center of the crowd, you would have thought we were hosting a fair or some traveling mummers. There was an air of lightheartedness mixed with an undertone of mob justice. \n\nI warned them, \"don't burn her, she is just some old lady without a home.\"\n\nI was nine. \n\nAnd I watched her burn. \n\nThe fire started slow, the morning dew still wet on the wood. And as the flames licked up her cloak (I remember it was made of grey wool with not a single cat to be found) she tilted back her head and howled in pain. Then, surprisingly she laughed. A high crackling cackle that solidified in any doubtful mind that she must have certainly been a witch. \n\nAnd then she spoke. The words were quiet, barely whispered over the crackling of the hungry fire, and yet every ear heard it. Every mind remembered it, and every soul froze at the sound of it. \n\n\"When all who witness here before, come to cross Death's cold door, flesh and skin and meat and bone, will rise again to atone!\"\n\nAnd she laughed until the searing air blistered her lungs. I could still see her frail and shoulders twitching with the laughter that her voice could no longer express. \n\nAnd an eternity later she collapsed into greasy dust as the flames consumed all. \n\nIf everyone had been so sure she was a witch, you would have expected them to take her curse seriously. No one did. No one except me. \n\nMonths later the burning day was only a memory, rarely commented about and on its way to being forgotten. \n\nAnd then Gramma Ennis died. It was her time, and she most likely passed on in her sleep. The next day she was buried. And as soon as the sun set that night... she came back. \n\nIt wasn't until sunrise that they found her, in the bedroom of the house she had been born in, eating the flesh of her Emily, eldest daughter and caretaker. \n\nShe acted like a drunken feral beast, growling in her gore-stained throat as the village men surrounded her, and dragged her out to her own fire. \n\nThen the fear began. That night Emily also came back, though we were prepared. William struck her on the head with his forge hammer, and we heard the neck snap, saw the head loll to the side at a grotesque angle, and yet the clawing hands did not stop trying to tear through William's thick leather apron. He had to break every one of her limbs with sickening, crunching hammer blows. And she went to the fire too. \n\nNow all who pass on go to the fire. There is no funeral, no wake, just a hastily built stack of wood and then flame. \n\nWe couldn't catch all of them. A lot of farmers lived away from the center of town, and farming can be a dangerous life. When they came back, they often took a few more with them. And sometimes there weren't enough living people to put the dead to the flame. \n\nAnd now there is only me, and the slowly cooling body of my own mother. We were the last who was there to witness the woman burn. \n\nThere are no sounds in the village, no hammering from the forge, or voices from the market. There is no smell of baking bread or friends meeting by the well. They have all gone to the fire. \n\nI don't think she was a witch. I don't think she was responsible for Saul's children. I do think that our cruelty twined her words with eldritch vengeance upon those who unjustly murdered her. \n\nAnd now as I build the pile of wood that will be the final resting place to the woman who gave birth to me, I wonder: Who will give me to the fire?\n\nI drag her stiffening body onto the pile. The sun will be setting soon.\n\nI kiss her cold forehead and whisper in her lifeless ear, \"Don't come back for me...\""
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[WP] You show up at a friend's house with a 6-pack of beer, ready to party. When you walk inside, you find Chris Hansen standing there, waiting for you.
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"The first time, he hadn't been able to go through with it. However, since then he had been biding his time, knowing that there would be another opportunity in the future. Most people would not, perhaps could not, contemplate what he was fantasizing about.\n\nHeck, I was one of those guys. But I wasn't the jealous type - so when I saw Chris Hansen at my friend's house I simply said, \"Hey, sucks that the Sacramento Kings deal didn't work out. But I hear the Atlanta Hawks are for sale these days?\"",
"There’s was a moment in some, few, desperately unlucky individual’s lives. Most people knew concept of rock bottom, but until someone reached it, they couldn’t really understand it. It’s wasn’t hitting rock bottom that was the worst moment in a person’s life.\n\nNo. he decided. It was the moment just before. That split second of weightlessness when you’d just started fallen off the cliff, before the ground rushed to meet you. The moment you saw the first brick crack, just before the life you’d built came crumbling down.\n\nFor Jesse, it was the moment he opened the door, six pack in hand, to Chris Hansen staring back at him. \n\nThere were other people there. His old service buddy, stony faced, standing resolute in his decision to betray Jesse’s confidence—standing behind Hansen of course. The Camera Man, some thirty-odd-year-old just below average at everything greyscale blob spending his life watching other’s get ruined from behind the scene. And, in the corner, a square-jawed, balding badge, who probably thought the best years of his life were spent playing ball for his Mid-America small town team. But they didn’t matter. \n\nThe only thing that mattered was Chris Hansen. And in that moment, that just-before-rock-bottom moment, Jesse hated Chris Fucking Hansen.\n",
"I walked into the big house, the door had been left open. I knocked once more and called out. A girls voice of no more than 6 years old called out \"Just a minute!!\"\n\nI grinned, I knew what was in store and I couldn't wait.\n\n\"Can I come in?\"\n\n\"Just a minute!!\" She called back.\n\nI thought about the other nights like this and pulled out my new phone. The camera was meant to be the best available on a phone and I couldn't wait to take some pictures to show the guys at the bar later.\n\n\"Ok, come on in!\"\n\nIt was silly, it was always the same but I couldn't wait, every time it was a little different but they were all memorable and even after it was over I always had the pictures to remind me.\n\nI rounded the corner and there he was standing before me stone faced. Chris Hansen of NBC fame. Chris Hansen, who struck fear in to the hearts of men and women across the country. Chris Hansen who had his daughter over to visit this weekend. Chris Hansen wearing a tiara, pink feather boa and make up that bordered on clown face. I couldn't help it, he was a good dad to do this, but out came the camera. \n\n*click*\n\nChris: No Don- dammit!\n\nSarah: Daddy, you said a swear word!!\n\nChris: Sorry princess.\n\nSarah: No daddy, *you're* the princess!"
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Identity crisis? etc...
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[WP] In an age where couples share their memories through technology, you are an old man/woman who's spouse is dead.
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"The hardest part, he’d decided long ago, was deciphering the memories that came with smells. The fall air brought with it half formed dreams of diving inside scooped piles of leaves, and the first days of school. That he’d grown up with a concrete lot for a yard didn't matter. The memories reminded him of her. \n\nInevitably, though, thoughts of her drudged up more memories. Moments in history whose origin was harder to determine. Had it been he who’d gotten turned around driving their daughter to her new daycare; had she been the one to burn dinner right before the dinner guests arrived? Knowing which he’d lived and which she’d shared with him was a tall order, sometimes more than he could handle. \n\nThe first time he’d gotten lost in his -her? -memories in front of his family, he’d awoken to the sound of his grandson crying. They called it memory overflow, an unfortunate long term side effect of new technologies. Apparently it was rare enough that nobody important cared when it happened.\n\n It was always the memories associated with smells that started the fevered dreams. It’d get worse with time, he knew. Eventually he’d spend most of his time trapped within his mind. He’d miss the family he had left; those he’d leave behind. But it wouldn't be all bad. He’d get to see the memories of her.\n\nJosiah Baker opened his eyes. He wasn't quite sure how long he’d been laying unmoving in his bed. At the very least, he’d missed the sunrise. He smiled at that. Unbidden his mind wandered to mornings spent saluting the sun and preparing his mind for the day. He swung his feet to the floor and sighed at the dull pain in his hip, a reminder that not all memories in his mind were his. \n\nHe’d never practiced yoga during the sunrise. He focused his mind on her yoga pants and the backside it struggled to contain; he was sure the memories that followed were his. \n\nThat was his way of getting through the day. He couldn't just force himself to stop thinking about her. But sometimes he could control the directions their memories went. Sometimes he could delay the sweeping tide of the memories.\n\nHe wandered through his home listlessly, getting ready for a day of nothing. People his age, he found, didn't really have ‘Things to Do’. What they would do, they’d done already, and what they hadn't, they no longer could. It was sad looking forward and seeing nothing left. It made looking back so much easier. \n",
"Chris waved at the fry-cook, a young woman with long auburn hair tied into a ponytail and tucked into a hairnet. She waved back at him through the order window, then showed an index finger, *one sec, almost done*. He smiled, twisting back in forth in the rotatable diner stool. He looked down the bar and saw several other patrons, some of them facing away from him; when they did happen to turn and give him a slight glance, he saw that their faces were fuzzy, their features not fully discernible. Chris paid no mind, he didn't ever pay any attention to the other patrons in the diner on the day that he met April, so it made sense that he couldn't remember what their faces looked like. \n\nThere was a ding from the order-bell and Chris turned back in his seat to see April, the fry-cook, coming around the corner with a hamburger on a china plate, hugged on the side by freshly cooked french-fries accompanied by a small bit of ketchup. She sat the plate in front of him, then took the diner seat next to him, taking a fry from the plate, dabbing it into the ketchup, and taking a bite. \n\nChris took a bite out of the juicy burger, smiling and almost chuckling as some of the juices almost escaped from the corner of his mouth. \"You've still got it, darling,\" he said, dabbing at his mouth with a cloth handkerchief he pulled from his coat pocket.\n\n\"You know I do,\" she responded, taking another fry from his plate. \n\n***\n\nJerry wheeled Chris towards one of the many small consoles that sat on one of the many long tables of the couples lounge of the nursing home. Already present was April, slouched in her wheelchair, but eyes still vibrant as ever, almost out of place in her wrinkled face. She was already hooked into the MemRepeater, possibly already cooking Chris his burger before he even walked into the diner. \n\nChris looked at Jerry, about to ask why they had wheeled her out so early, and Jerry responded before he could get the question out, \"She finished therapy a bit earlier than expected, she wasn't quite able to do all of the exercises. She's probably just tired today, but she definitely was eager to cook for you again.\"\n\nChris nodded and watched anxiously as Jerry prepared the cords that would allow him to enter his and April's special meeting place. \n\nBefore long, he was walking into the diner, and April was already there, burger sitting on the bar. \"What took you so long? I might have to make you another,\" she said, poking at the burger, \"it's getting a little cold.\"\n\n***\n\nJerry wheeled Chris into the lobby, and yet again, April was already present. \n\n\"Can you bring me out here at the same time as her?\" He asked in a dry voice.\n\n\"Sorry,\" Jerry replied, \"you still have to do your therapy, and she can't really do hers, so we just decided to bring her out. She insists on it, saying that she likes to cook in the diner, that it makes her feel young again.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Chris murmured. Jerry rolled him next to April, and Chris saw that her eyes appeared dull. He tried to say something to her, but she didn't respond. \"Is she okay?\" \n\nJerry prepared the cords again, either not hearing Chris' question or flat out ignoring it, and Chris entered the memory, where April was already waiting.\n\n\"Hey,\" he said, sitting onto the diner stool. \n\n\"Hey yourself.\"\n\n\"How're you doing out there?\" Chris said, jerking his thumb to the diner door. It was glass, you should've been able to see through it, should've been able to see the parking lot, but neither Chris or April could remember what the parking lot looked like, so instead it was just a grassy field covered in fog. Chris wasn't sure if the field was from his memories or hers. \n\n\"I'm alright,\" she said, looking away from him. \"It's getting hard to think straight out there, feels like I'm dreaming, sort of feels like I'm still here.\"\n\nChris took her hand in his, \"Do you want to stop coming here?\"\n\n\"No,\" she said immediately, \"I like it here. This is where I fell in love with you.\"\n\n***\n\n\"Hook me to it,\" Chris said firmly.\n\n\"But-\n\nChris cut off Jerry's response, \"Hook. Me. To. It.\"\n\n***\n\nChris walked into the diner and sat down. There weren't any patrons sitting at the bar. He turned and looked and realized there weren't any patrons at all, none sitting at the bar or even in the booths. \n\nHe turned back in his seat and waited for April to come around the corner.\n\n "
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[WP] Write me a story about a song. Include the song as well
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"I heard the first sad notes of a piano and my hand went to the volume, turning it up. I din't know this song made it to the radio, much less these days. The woman's melancholy voice drifted out of the speakers.\n\n*Woke from dreaming, but it took convincing...*\n\nIt was dark on the road, no street lights, no other cars, just the dim illumination from my own headlights. My mind drifts as the song continues. I lost my virginity to this song. It was in a scummy basement on a scummy mattress to some scummy guy while some party went on upstairs. Funny that I can remember hearing this but not his face. Not that I really want to, anyway, it was just something I had to do.\n\nI run a hand slowly up my arm. Right, something I had to do. Had to. I shudder involuntarily and started breathing hard. I pull over and barely put the car in park before throwing the door open. I run to the ditch and started vomiting violently.\n\n\"No more.\" I whisper to myself as I hug myself, shivering.\n\n\"Everything alright, miss?\"\n\nI jump at the sudden sound. There's a man, tall and dark, silhouetted against the headlights of his own car. His voice was deep and smooth. I didn't even hear him pull up.\n\n\"I...yeah.\" I say, brushing a hair away from my face. I'm terrified.\n\n\"Car sick?\" He asks.\n\nI chuckle nervously, clutching my arms. \"Yeah, sometimes. Never been this bad, though,\" I lie, \"I thought I was going to die.\"\n\nHe remains curiously silent. I see his head move, looking up at something across the street, then back down to me. \"But you are dead. Don't you remember?\"\n\nThe words hit me in the gut and I feel like vomiting again. Then my head catches the blow. I do remember. I thought I was done but I needed one more taste. I remember being in that room, all those people. I bought just a little off of a woman that looked like a corpse, I remember handing her the money. So much for so little.\n\nI also remember being called a thief and a liar. I tried to explain but the corpse woman was to far gone to back me up. I didn't even get the taste I wanted. They hit me until darkness came, then I was on the road and the song came on.\n\nThinking of the song, I hear it faintly in the ending refrains from my car.\n\n*We will kill if we need to*\n\n\"Come with me.\" The man says, his hand extended towards me.\n\nI take it gingerly. \"Where are we going?\" I ask weakly as he helps me up.\n\nHe puts a comforting arm around me as he escorts me to his car. \"You have not been a good girl.\"",
"\"We do feel alone\"\nThe man next to me kept muttering it as we stood in line, still a little freezer burned from the cryo sleep we were held in. We've been gone from our life for years. Even though we've been frozen and don't remeber anything, everything has changed. The cold dark room I remeber coming in is gone. I can only see bright lights and long red lines on a plain white floor. The only thing I can think of is holding my wife again. \"Welcome back to the living world people. The years 2150, and lots has changed. More so then you probably thought in,\" he makes a quick glance at his papers,\"2014. Made some new friends.\" That was the moment my heart dropped, my blood colder then ever. This experiment we signed up for? Was only meant for a few years, not this long. \n\n\"That place in my mind. Is that space that you call mine?\"\nI asked the shrink. He had me attached to some machine that showed him my memories, and the activity going on. What kind of science even made this possible fried my mind, everything I'd seen had so far. \"Of course it is, it's your mind after all!\" He said with a smile. \"The only reason we're doing this is to ensure nothing was lost during the sleep. Make sure you're not missing a chunk of anything, and that everything is working right.\" He said warmly, clicking away on his keyboard as he watched my life flash before his eyes. I settled into the chair again, closing my eyes and drifting to sleep. \n\n\"Where have I been all this time? Lost, enslaved, fatal decline.\" \nThe doctor rushed into the room, looking at my record and me lying in the bed. The past few weeks we realized that the sleep had taken a lot out of us. Almost like a cancer but faster and like nothing they'd seen. Guess that's what we get for being lab rats. \"Anything you can do for me?\" I ask weakly, throat dry from the medicine. \"Well,\" he started, sitting next to the bed. \"We've tried everything we can. That won't cause you more pain that is. But we haven't tried replacing what we can't save with some cyber parts we got working years ago. It'll be painful and might not work, but it's your choice.\" I rested my head back, mind cloudy from the drugs. \"If it'll make me better, you do what you can.\" I say, looking him in the eyes with a weak smile. He pats my shoulder and leaves the room. I turn towards the window, looking at the neon lights and slight rain pelt the window. \n\n\"I've been waiting for this to unfold.\" The doctor whispers. \"Good, The pieces are only as good as the whole.\" A voice says on the other end of the phone. \nI can walk and use my arms again. I'm moving more, and I can walk around the hospital, so long as I don't go too far. I look into the other rooms as I pass them. The others seemingly not wanting to lose anything they have attached. Or maybe they don't want to see how the world has changed since they're dying from some cancer? My leg gives a loud pop and the next thing I know, I'm on the floor. The attached limb seemingly burning is way into my flesh. I scream in pain, and call for help. Soon I'm in bed again, now short 2 legs. \n\n\"Severed myself from my whole life. Cut out the only thing that was right. What If I never saw you again? I'd die right next to you in the end.\"\nI sobbed onto the grave. My wife was gone. My whole life was gone, and I was some where I shouldn't be at all. I signed for this whole thing going in for a few years, come out with a fat check with me. A war started after we went in apparently. Some aliens or some shit showed up and we wrecked them. We only were found because of the rubble protecting us, and being a test and all. People lived along side man, machine, and alien now. I could get a replacement, a clone even, of her they told me. I told them it wouldn't be the same. How can I love a doll that looks like her but isn't? I did this for her, a future with her. Now everything is gone. \n\n\"I won't let you walk away. Without hearing what I have to say.\"\nI said into the screen. Recording everything I said and did. \"I know this wasn't supposed to even happen, that we're a miracle in our own right. My own right.\" I took a sip of the drink I'd gotten from the shady looking man in the alley. Burned like hell, but man did it taste nice. Guess I'll never know after this. \"I've been poked and prodded like an Amish alien in the past few months under the guise of helping us get better. But I know better now.\" I picked up a thick folder, shaking it at the screen. \"I know we're the last pure humans from before they landed and we fought. That whatever they brought with then it's killing us. That, \" I take a deep drink from the bottle. \"We're the last humans on earth. Well, human now. Since the only thing holding me together is the parts you put in me. That everyone else rejected them. I'm done now. I miss my wife. My life. Other people that are people.\" I pulled out the revolver from my pocket, and cock it. Press it to my head, and start to pull the trigger while dreaming of holding her again. \n\nSlipknot-Danger keep away"
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[WP] A stranger approaches you with a weapon and demands you hand over your valuables. A short time later he walks away empty handed crying tears of joy.
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"\"Look man, you don't need to do this,\" a bit aggressive I thought, so I lowered my voice, \"take these\" I said softly, a £20 note, a cigarette and my favourite lighter. \"You know, I was just like you, the night was my playground, I'd consider mugging a grandma if I got the cash I wanted.\" I took off my shoes, and handed them to him, \"I hope they're your size\", off came my tie, blue and striped, and then the shirt off of my back, \"I think you need these more than I do, a good set of clothes will get you far in life, believe me.\" There I stood, half naked and vulnerable, an easy target for the sharp blade that he gripped tightly, turning his knuckles and odd shade of beige. I said it again, \"you don't need to do this\". I opened my arms and welcomed him in, \"let me help you\". All this time, he said nothing, but at that point his face had softened. Tears flooded down my cheeks, and he responded in the same way. He dropped the knife, and then he dropped himself, smashing his knees onto the cold, cracked concrete. \"Thank you,\" he cried looking at me and then up to the sky, as if I was sent from the heavens above to save him, \"thank you.\"\n\nWe spoke for a while and I handed him a business card, asking that he called me on Monday morning and then we parted.\n\nI walked home, feeling a little less empty inside and hopefully he did too. The cold winds nipped at me, like a dog to the postman. I snuck indoors, walked upstairs and kissed my son on the forehead, he looked like such an angel in his sleep. Then I stumbled into bed, my wife puzzled at me already being half naked. I got under the duvet, \"I'll explain in the morning\" I said unprompted, awaiting for the backlash that he morning would bring, she thinks I was out with the boys...",
"It was my first night in Leitzig and an emergency rail repair had caused my arrival to be delayed later into the evening than planned. Snow had just began to fall this low in the alps and the fierce winter chills had not rolled down from the mountaintops just yet. The streets were empty and cabs would not be waiting this late. Not wishing to call for one and wait, I decided it should be fine to walk. Alone, I left the station for the small tavern from which I had arranged to rent a room with the hopes that my lateness had not prompted them to rent my bed to someone else. Along the way, perhaps a block or two from the tavern I heard the shuffle of quick steps from behind, and a hushed but stern voice commanding, \"Freeze.\" The metallic click of a revolver being cocked and another command, \"Turn around, say nothing.\" I observed my surroundings and concluded that besides my assailant and myself, we were alone. Not one to deny the orders of armed men, I raised my arms turned to face him. \n\nFirst I peered into the barrel of the .32 caliber snub nose pointed at my nose, then to the hand holding it and up the arm into the face of my aggressor. Looking at his eyes, a sudden wave of memories surged over me, and for a moment I was no longer standing on a dark street in Leitzig being robbed. I was strolling along along a river bank, laughing and chucking rocks into the waters, I was banging a fork and knife impatiently against the dinner table to excited cheers and grumbles of frustration, I was running through a field, being chased but not being afraid, and I was hiding in a basement from the bombs, holding and being held so tightly, promising not to let go. But I did let go. I had to. \n\nA stiff arm to my shoulder jostled me away from my memories, followed by another order, \"Well? Hear me cunt? Give us your money, your watch.\" The man hadn't looked into my eyes yet, only to my chest. He appeared afraid, what he did now was clearly not something done for the sake of wealth or pleasure, but subsistence. I thought for a moment that I could be wrong, but all the dirt, shabby clothes, and unkempt facial hair could not hide what I saw in this man's eyes. \"Erwin?\" I asked. The shaky hand holding the gun lowered, and for the first time the man's eyes met mine. \"Hareld...? It's been so long. I- I thought you died when they took you\" the man replied, before wiping the tears now beading in his eyes. I took the gun from my young brother's hand and grabbed him tightly in embrace. \"I won't let you go again, I promise.\" and I did promise, this time more so than ever before. The beads of tears in the corners of his eyes now turned to streams and joyous sobs."
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[WP] Every time people think negative thoughts, they lose a few minutes of their life.
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"Penny sat down at her coffee-stained dining table, the chair underneath her rocking unsteadily. A pile of bills sat before her. Her eyes were sunken, and her brow furrowed, the lines in her face deepening with every envelope she opened. As she pulled her checkbook closer to her, a piece of her golden locks fell in front of her face. \"Looks like I won't be making rent this month,\" she sighed heavily, as the golden lock before her faded into a dull silver.",
"Mark looked up, dazed. The man who had just saved his life was dusting himself off. Suddenly the man straightened, peering intently at a spot a few inches above Mark's head. He looked around, looking at the top of people's heads. He looked confused for a second, then ran away laughing maniacally. \n\nMark gave his head a hard shake. The world was full of weirdos. Still, this weirdo *had* stopped him from getting run over by a bus. He supposed he should thank him for that. He got up, looking around for the man, but he was long gone. \n\n\"Are you okay sir?\" The EMT who had just arrived at the scene asked him. \n\nSomething didn't seem right though, were there... numbers on top of everyone's head? He might have a concussion.\n\n\"I might have a concussion.\" he told the EMT. \"My vision... I'm not sure everything is okay with it.\" \n\n\"Okay sir, can you open your eyes wide?\" asked the EMT as he pulled up Mark's eyelid, shining a flashlight into his pupils.\n\nThe numbers on the EMT's head were ticking down, Mark noticed. That was strange. And... strangely familiar. The EMT asked him a number of questions to check if his faculties were functioning properly, which he was able to answer with no problem.\n\n\"I can't tell if there's a problem, sir, would you like to see a doctor?\" the EMT asked as he beckoned his elderly colleague closer. The number on this guy's head was much smaller, and it too was ticking down. \n\nMark looked around. The little girl walking next to her mom had a really large number above her head. The hobo on the corner street had an even smaller number, and the numbers on everybody's head were ticking down! His heart begin to sink as realization dawned on him. He had seen this before. Seriously? Did it have to be that shitty Nickelback video that came true for him? Couldn't he have awakened in Katy Perry's California Gurls or something?\n\nThe elderly EMT was speaking him to me. He forced himself to listen to the old man's chatter. \n\n\"... kids these days. In my day, every young man knew to look left, look right, and then cross the world. What is this world coming to? No wonder we've made a mess of this place.\"\n\nThat was strange. The numbers on the old EMT's head jumped down by a few hundreds. What had he just done to hasten his death?\n\nA kind of morbid curiosity was overtaking his original dismay at gaining this depressing ability. The scientist in him longed to know how it worked, how he could make use of it, etc. He knew from the Nickelback video that if he tried to change someone's fate, the ability would be taken from him. Best to save it for someone he loved then.\n\nHe felt a little bit selfish for saying that, but he had to maximize his knowledge of the ability to make the most out of it.\n\nAfter reassuring the EMTs, that he was in fact okay, and no, he did not need to see a doctor, he hailed a cab to go home. \n\nThey hadn't gone more than a few feet when the driver launched into a tirade about the mess Obama was dragging the country into. His number was surprisingly low. Maybe it was just the risk of getting into a traffic accident as a cabby. Mark shrugged it off, you couldn't save the whole world. As the driver continued to link everything from Ebola to ISIS to Obama, Mark noticed that his ticker was falling at a much much faster rate than anyone else's he had observed? What could that mean? Was god a Democrat? No surely, it couldn't be something as stupid like that. What if complaining shortened your life span? Everyone was talking about the importance of mental wellbeing these days, even if he didn't get what it was about. Well, there was only one way to test if negativity in fact was the incriminating factor here.\n\n\"Could you take me to this address instead?\" he asked the cabby as he showed him his phone. If there was ever a test of negativity to be done, his aunt would be the ideal test subject. \n\nHe tipped his unwitting labrat, as they pulled up in his aunt's driveway. \n\n\"Oh Marky, how nice it is to see you after so long.\" his Aunt waddled out of her house to greet him. Alright, second-by-second decrements so far. \"No one gives a damn about the elderly these days...\"\n Here we go. Mark tuned out and concentrated on the numbers on her head as she launched into complaints about the plumber and the gardener, and just about everyone around her. Sure enough, they were decreasing by leaps and bounds. He felt a pang of sadness as he calculated just how short a time his aunt had to live. Still, old age wasn't something you could prevent even if you wanted to. \n\nHis objective accomplished, he extricated himself from his aunt's complaint cloud as quickly and politely as he could. He had a new measurement to make. Just how fast could your ticker go down. Thankfully, he knew just the place to test it. The Westboro Baptist Church was in town.\n\n\n\n\n"
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[WP]"Sweet surrender gone asunder, last survivor left to wonder why the end was but a blunder on the Earth; a lonely moon."
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"Changed the meter and style a bit, but here's my attempt: \n\nSweet surrender gone asunder\n\nlast survivor left to wonder \n\nwhy the end was but a blunder \n\non the earth; a lonely moon.\n\nAll they wished was to survive\n\nOne last decade still alive\n\nGone from earth, where the jive \n\nOf countless people told a tale.\n\nOf reckless spending, demagogues\n\nPoliticians, synagogues.\n\nAll alike they never saw\n\nThe coming ruin of broken law.\n\nWhen air was bought at prices great\n\nAs once gas was to leave the state\n\nAnd soon the poor could not buy\n\nEnough of a good air supply\n\nTo save their lives another day \n\nWhile the rich spent air on play.\n\n\nDecisions then to seek the moon\n\nTo stop relying on neighbor's boon\n\nWere made and so a select few\n\nWere tested, told to start anew\n\nUpon earth's lonely satellite \n\nAnd try to see if lunar plight\n\nMight make for better living for\n\nThe desperate man who dying swore\n\nTo outlive the fool - a closing door\n\nOf opportunity.\n\n\n",
"> Sweet surrender gone asunder,\n> \n> Last survivor left to wonder\n> \n> Why the end was but a blunder.\n> \n> -- On the Earth, a lonely moon.\n> \n> \n> Swells that gather rising higher,\n> \n> Smoking ladders flashing brighter.\n> \n> Where the winds go, bright the fire.\n> \n> -- Silent screams are gone too soon.\n> \n> \n> Ignorance in grave consequence,\n> \n> Deep regret left as recompense.\n> \n> Recovery has lost its chance\n> \n> -- Doomed are we, now comes the end.\n> \n> \n> Lonely moon shown through smoke too dense\n> \n> Shines sorrowful with innocence.\n> \n> Last life on Earth, emptied contents\n> \n> -- Hope fading fast, none left to mend.",
"Sweet surrender gone asunder,\n\n[The] last survivor [was] left to wonder,\n\nWhy the end was but a blunder,\n\nOn the Earth; a lonely moon...\n\nDrifting, circling, years passing soon,\n\nAnd sooner still as Joseph drifts,\n\nNever noticing the subtle shifts.\n\nThe subtle shifts of tide and season,\n\nNothing whispering at rhyme or reason.\n\nToo subtle to hint at a future severe,\n\nWith only minor changes year after year.\n\nAnd Joseph drifts, never caring,\n\n'Bout the sun now brighter, glaring,\n\nSwearing to swallow Joseph staring,\n\nInto a future that never comes,\n\nAnd a present that lasts for only one.\n\nJoseph drifts for years upon thousands,\n\nAs the heat dries oceans and swallows mountains.\n\nHe stares into the sun, long after he'd died,\n\nWith no one to set closed his eyes."
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[WP] You are the hero of the story, off to save the princess... until you discover she's the villain.
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"Jethro chopped the beast down in a single blow throwing it to the ground. The blacksmith picked himself up and bowed before him.\n\"You have saved my your highness! I am forever in your debt!\"\nJethro put his hand out. \"No need old chap! Just in need of a sword you see, the Princess has been kidnapped and I simply must save her.\"\nThe grubby looking man looking up again.\n\"Princess? You mean, Princess Erien?\"\n\"Yes the very same why?\"\n\"Oh you wouldn't want to do that sir...\"\n\"Why?\"\n\"Well... um... well shes being guarded by a dragon sir that'd be awfully dangerous.\"\n\"Nonsense! My house knows no fear. I shall slay the beast or die if the gods so choose! Now I need a sword and I've been told you are the finest blacksmith in the kingdom!\"\n\"Nooo sir you shouldn't want to do that its not worth dieing for is it? Just head home and we in the Kingdom will grieve and go on without her.\"\n\"But my good man if I do not rescue her then no one will be able to claim the thrown! Who would rule over you? Who would live in the lavish palaces of the Kingdom?\"\n\"Well maybe no one sir. Myself and many others in the Guild of Professionals and other Importance were thinking of creating some kind of democratic system of representative government.\"\nJethro was puzzled. A kingdom with no ruler? Common peasants running the land?\n\"But what about the palaces?\"\n\"Perhaps all that space could be put to better use by the people. Maybe all those lavish gardens and fine food by used by all the starving farmers. Its been a famine for almost ten months and lets be honest the princess wasn't exactly skinny when Akral'Thra The Ten Winged Abomination carried her off I mean it needed two talons...\"\n\"Now listen here!\" Jethro picked the Blacksmith up by the scruff of the neck, his biceps bulging as he slammed him against the nearest wall.\n\"Don't you insult your future Queen like that! She has had to comfort eat since the rest of her parents died!\"\n\"I'm sure my kids wouldn't mind a bit of comfort food themselves to be honest sir.\"\nJethro slapped the Blacksmith.\n\"Listen here peasant! I demand you make me a sword at once or I shall... I shall...\"\nSuddenly there was an earthquake, everything shook and Jethro looked around in panic. The blacksmith laughed.\n\"Well it looks like my future queen just agreed to have her soul sucked out by the Ten Winged Horror. Now I presume you don't have any business here now so could you please leave?\" ",
"It was a long, torturous journey through the valleys and mountains into the land of Lord Azkrock. The plains were barren of life, and the last town was days away. Cecil looked out upon the final hill and saw the castle. It was dark, foreboding, and it was where he would rescue the princess of the realm.\n\nIt had been not a year ago that Princess Shanna had been abducted in the night. A dozen knights had gone forth into the wicked sorcerer Lord Azkrock's realm. None had returned. Many more efforts to rescue her were, in total, complete failures.\n\nAnd Cecil wondered what had happened to the men who had ventured forth into these lands, and he had set out one day to rescue the princess. His sword was an antique, passed down to him from his father. His shield and armor were a gift from the king, minor treasures in the king's vast armory.\n\nHe approached the moat, wary of danger. As he stood there, waiting for an ambush, the drawbridge slowly descended. \n\nThe castle was deserted - completely and totally empty. He slowly and carefully made his way up through each floor, wary of traps and dangerous monsters, but none unveiled themselves. \n\nThe top floor was devoid of life, too, and Cecil slowly made his way up the steps to the throne room.\n\nHe opened the door.\n\nBefore him lay a once-grand room. The red carpets were dirty and no longer held the richness that he had seen presenting himself before the king of the realm. The walls were cold and grey, and the torches were unlit.\n\n\"Hello,\" a deep voice sounded from the left of the throne. A hooded man in a black cloak emerged from the side of the room, standing near the throne. \"I am the man once known as Lord Azkrock.\"\n\nCecil drew his sword. \"Where's the princess?\" \n\nThe man chuckled, before he laughed uncontrollably. \"She is no longer here. No, she has not been here in a while.\" He sat on the throne. \"I am all that is left. I am sorry to disappoint you, adventurer.\" He conjured a bottle of wine. \"Would you care for a drink? I promise, I won't poison you.\" \n\nCecil hesitantly took the glass of wine offered and sipped it. It was the best wine he'd ever tasted.\n\n\"You must be wondering what in the world is going on. I can see it in your eyes. The princess Shanna was here, long ago. I kidnapped her, yes.\" The man's voice had grown softer. \n\n\"Were you expecting the royal family to pay ransom?\" Cecil sipped his wine.\n\n\"No, not at all. You see, powerful magic users such as myself are rare. The Princess was one of the most powerful I've ever seen,\" Azkrock said. \"Such power comes at a price. Without a guiding hand she would have become a raging storm.\" \n\n\"And so you kidnapped her?\" Cecil asked. \"That's an odd response.\"\n\n\"I know. She is my biggest failure.\" Azkrock stood. \"She had a natural talent. Such power... The thing about power is that it must be controlled by those who do not seek it. I only learned this when an ambitious princess learned to control an unstoppable power.\"\n\n\"Where is she?\" Cecil asked again, this time slightly less confident.\n\n\"The last time I saw her she had trapped me within these walls, to live a long life filled with regret.\" Azkrock removed his hood, showing greying brown hair and a hardened face. \"She is mad with power, far to the West. Once she amasses an army she will come back. I am certain of it.\"\n\n\"What are you going to do?\" Cecil asked. \n\n\"I do not know. Her power is still growing. I feel it, like a pulse against my head. If you can, get back to the king. Tell him of me, of my eternal imprisonment within my ruined castle. And tell him that far to the west lies an enemy beyond compare. As for me, I will remain here. You may take whatever you will need from my castle.\"\n\nAzkrock placed a hand on Cecil's shoulder. \n\n\"I leave the rest to you.\""
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[WP] Frankenstein enters into a body building contest, only to realize, he has seriously misunderstood the objective.
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"He'd worked hard, trying to cover every eventuality. What did the body have to do? He didn't know. The contest add didn't really say. \n\nHe'd went ahead and shot for the middle. He needed strength, so he used a gorilla's core, but grafted human arms and hands for the incredible dexterity. He also added a couple of pairs of octopus tentacles for versatility. An owl's eyes were crammed into a wolf skull, which retained the aural and nasal equipment of that predator for detection. A snake's tongue and Jacob's organs give extra sensory ability. All of this was rigged onto a perfect set of ostrich legs for raw speed. \n\nFor the life of him, he couldln't understand the looks of horror he got as he led his creation past all of the meatheads that were, inexplicably enough, also at the competition. ",
"Victor flexed. He rippled. Under the hard spotlights the contours of his oiled body gleamed. He was tanned, cut, a hardbody, sculpted perfection and he hadn't picked up a syringe or a scalpel even once.\n\nHe struck a pose, isolating another muscle group, and there was an outburst from the front row as a respected pathologist from Ruritania lost all semblance of self control and tried to stuff his posing pouch full of Pfennigs. She was restrained by some helpful lab assistants. In the VIP box, the notorious Dr. Furter flashed him a lascivious grin and raised an eyebrow. He left the stage to a storm of applause and quite a lot of thrown underwear.\n\nHe was met in the wings by Igor, who handed Victor his robe, and Professor Twilight.\n\n\"I don't want to denigrate what you do, Victor, but...\"\n\n\"But next year, bring an animate corpse?\" finished Victor. He smiled.\n\n\"It's what the competition is all about, after all.\"\n\nVictor Frankenstein thought about this for a moment.\n\"Professor, I appreciate everything you say. But my time as a modern Prometheus is over. The crude surgery of my time has been superceded and eclipsed by genetic manipulation, cloning and even more esoteric techniques. What I do now is bring a little joy to the proceedings. And I have a few fans, here and there.\"\n\nProfessor Twilight sighed.\n\n\"I know, Frankenstein, I know. But they are not in the majority.\"\n\nFrankenstein slipped off his robe.\n\n\"Professor, I might be outnumbered,\" he said, flexing a bicep \"but I'm surely never outgunned.\"",
"“And, uh, you’re his…trainer, Mr., umm…?” Brad Matthews glanced from the shorter, slightly oddly dressed man in front of him to the taller blond on the stage. The first man nodded. \n\n“It’s Doctor, actually. But call me Frank,” He replied, grinning.\n \n“Of course, my apologies. Would you mind if we interviewed the two of you for Sports Weekly? The fans would just love to know what the heck he did to get abs like that, you see.”\n\nThe Doctor seemed to perk up at the mention of an interview. He nodded even more quickly. “Oh, yes. We’d love that! It’s quite simple, actually.” \n\n“Delightful! How about we meet backstage after the final judging?” Brad asked. He glanced up from his note book, pushing his Clark Kent-esque glasses back onto his nose. The Doctor glanced off into the distance for a moment, as if trying to remember if he was busy or not. After a moment he looked back to Brad. \n\n“It’s a date!”\n \n Brad smiled, extending his hand to shake the Doctor’s. After exchanging goodbyes, he made his way back to his seat. He could scarcely wait to call his fiancé – after three months of getting assigned nothing but writing speedo reviews, it felt great to be in charge of something that would actually interest readers. And that contestant. He was going to win by a few laps, in runner’s terms. He’d never seen quite as perfect a body as that dude had. It was like the airbrushed, enhanced ones you’d see in his magazine’s pages, only it was real, raw, and unedited. He could only imagine how many hours that dude had put in at the gym. And his trainer, as odd as he seemed, must know what he’s talking about. \nBrad had to admit, when the Doctor had entered in the contest, he’d had his doubts. He looked more like a mad scientist than a miracle worker of a gym trainer, but he’d come through. Boy, had he ever come through. He’d shown up the next day with the most amazing contestant the judges had seen in years.\n\n The competition flew by, and sure enough, the blond dude won a grand prize. Brad wasted no time in hurrying backstage to talk to the pair. He found them easily enough – all he had to do was look for the awestruck crowd. \n\n“Frank! Could I have a minute?” He called, trying to hope above the swooning girls. The Doctor lit up when he saw him, and wasted no time in whispering something to the bodybuilder before leading him over. \n\n“This is the reporter I told you about,” He said excitedly. \n“Hi.” The bodybuilder said. \n\n“Hi,” Brad replied. “So, I just have a few questions. How long exactly did it take you to get a body like this, huh?”\n\nThe bodybuilder furrowed his brows, then counted off on his fingers. “The Doctor started working on me…5 months ago.”\n\n“That quickly? Gee! Was the training hard? How many hours a day did you work?”\n\n“Five or six hours a day, at least. And it was very hard!” The Doctor cut in. Brad scribbled that down in his note pad. He couldn’t help but feel shocked at the short time period. This Doctor really *was* a miracle worker.\n\n“Do you belong to any gym?” Brad glanced up again. \n\nThe bodybuilder shook his head. “I have my own…gym. The Doctor built it for me. Good for training.”\n\n“What about workout clothes? Any brand you prefer?” \n\nThe bodybuilder just stared at Brad, as though he’d never heard of brands before. After an awkward moment of silence, Brad shrugged. “I’ll take that as a no.”\n\n\n He asked a few more questions, like routine specifics or what tips they’d give to aspiring bodybuilders, then began to thank them. He paused at last minute, realizing he’d forgotten something. \n\n“Um, before I bid you farewell, Doctor – Frank-, where’d you say you were from again?” He couldn’t remember if they’d mentioned their hometown, but he’d likely need it for the introduction. \n\n“Transylvania,” The Doctor replied, giving a wink as though there was something terribly funny about that. Brad just nodded and wished them goodnight.\n\n\n(So, uh, I took a slightly different route with this. I read Dr. Frankenstein and body builders and thought of a certain cult classic...anyways, awesome prompts!)"
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[WP] An inmate is about to undergo lethal injection. Make me sympathize with the inmate.
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"Tulip Marie Hammond was guilty.\n\nAnd Tulip Marie Hammond was innocent.\n\nBut Tulip Marie Hammond was guilty.\n\nStraps held her tight.\n\nHer final embrace would be bitter.\n\nHer final glance toward those she loved would be sweet.\n\nTo survive,\n\nshe did whatever needed to be done.\n\nReflecting face stared back at the blond woman\n\nwho refused to falter from her mindful sense of justice.\n\nThe family she protected, defended and killed for \n\nwere in attendance.\n\nHer chest was light,\n\nnever burdened with the blood she spilled.\n\nYet her heart was heavy,\n\nstruggling to arrive at the cold conclusion\n\nthat her crimes did not save her family\n\nbut broke it apart.\n\nA man in while\n\nstood at her side,\n\ntools polished and ready\n\nto take away a life that had taken away countless others.\n\nTulip closed her eyes,\n\nnot even listening to the final words spoken.\n\nWhat was done,\n\nwas done.\n\nWhat would be done,\n\nwould be done.\n\nChemicals pulsated through her frail veins\n\nher body began to shut down.\n\nHer mind pleaded with her body to stay strong,\n\ndefending herself even still.\n\nShe killed to save her family\n\nand she did not regret anything.\n\nAs the Tulip began to wither,\n\nher family clung together.\n\nVictims stood back\n\nfaces dirty but without shame.\n\nThe woman was now free,\n\nsins washed away\n\nthe seeds could now foster\n\nrefurbishment and nourishment\n\nfor all involved \n\nin the soulless murders that\n\nTulip Marie Hammond committed.",
"Up till about a few years ago, they used to get last meals. Anything you wanted, the State paid for. Most guys never had a bite, of course. You stare at a sirloin long enough and your thoughts get queer. Start thinking about how you're a few hours away from being more or less meat yourself and the appetite just goes. Still, it was a kindness. The first thing that gets cut from budgets. They gave him a turkey sandwich with some extra mustard, the kind of low rent thoughtfulness that folks around here struggle for. It was a kindness too, but not the same.\n\nChaplain came buy and talked about rites. They went through the whole mumbo jumbo with hand holding. It he had to recall it, which after few minutes, he wouldn't have to recall anything any more, he'd say it was mostly the Pastor saying \"I'm sorry,\" and he saying \"I'm sorry too.\" Or the other way around. Details and sequence seem to have lost their significance.\n\nAbout twenty minutes to go, Officer Peters shows up. He's not bad for a screw. Some treat you like animals, some like criminals, and others just try and get through the day. Peters was between second and third, wasn't above pleasantries but held every inmate at arm's length. It's hard to tell if it was just the potential for violence or the need to remain detached from condemned men that kept him distant. Amos starts wondering about him, the things that happen outside the uniform and outside the block, but it's getting late.\n\nHis hands go through the door and the shackles go on. He walks out when the doors open and they chain his feet. His shackles are removed and adjusted to that he can shuffle with his arms behind his back. With a hand firmly on his bicep, Peters gets ready to lead him to the chamber. He's shaky on his feet and weak in the knees.\n\n\"You ok, Amos?\"\n\n\"Just tired is all, Simon.\"\n\nPeters acknowledges the sentiment with a gruff clearing of the throat. Something that says hold your head high without giving words to it. A primal invocation to facing finality with dignity. Right now it seems about the hardest thing he can muster, second only to the first step down the hall.\n\nH Block is solemn. He doesn't look at nobody except out of the corner of his eyes. They're all types, really--madmen and psychopaths, guys who came in right but got too stewed in their own juices, boys who got into bad jams and never got out. None were innocent, though more than a couple weren't guilty neither. But all were quiet. What was they watching? Their fate? His? Just another playact that they're too dumb to comprehend?\n\nPeters takes that first step and he wobbles best he can after him.\n\nWhat's strange, of course, is precisely how things don't change. The halls are tiled the same, the floor the same slate color. He wears the same clothes and walks under the same lights. Outside it might be sunny or slightly over cast. Really, there's no pomp that marks this day as different. It's kinda like walking through a mall of strangers on your birthday. Special, but they don't know it. The metaphor really ends right there, though.\n\nIn the chamber they lay him down on a gurney and strap him in with leather bindings. Off to his right side is a big darkened window pane. One of those one way mirrors he ain't seen since he was first pinched and the cops was beating a confession out of him. On the other side are folks that'll see Amos dead. He imagines them. Maybe it's her ma, a hard edged woman with knives for eyes. She didn't cry none during the trial, just glared. Didn't hug when the guilty verdict came down. Barely even spoke at the sentencing hearing. *My baby girl ain't coming back. He put her in the ground. Ain't no justice till he's there himself.*\n\nMaybe she ain't there, though. She was old then. Fourteen years is a long time. The kind of time that wears down most everything but hate. Maybe though, if she is watching, she could finally get some satisfaction. And Amos wouldn't begrudge her that. If that's all that came out of today, at least it would be something.\n\nThe IV goes in with a pinch. He feels mighty restless. He ain't lived nothing but a half life since he's been locked up but it seems so much better than what those needles promise.\n\nPrisoners don't get much in the way of news, but have plenty in terms of idle time. Guards too ain't got much on their hands but got plenty active tongues. Amos knows that Europe won't send the right drugs no more. Some companies just won't sell to the DoC. He knows folks got problems with his fate. His justice. Some of the guys on H Block get pretty righteous about it. Rights, rites, it's all the same. A little bit over his head and too charged for him to have a feeling of an informed opinion. Mostly he wonders about the hurt and how it feels not being. There is a vague desire for a hereafter, but really it leads to more trepidation when Amos starts wondering exactly where his ticket's been punched. He's not sure he should ask for redemption. A little embarrassed to even want mercy. But forever is so long.\n\nThe first drug goes in. Miz something now that they can't get the pentobarbital. It's supposed to numb the pain. Another low rent kindness, Amos supposes.\n\nFourteen years is hard to measure. One way is to look at it in terms of confinement. The last time he was able to piss without a witness. The last belt he owned. The last time he was laid. Another is in terms of lawyering. Appeals, motions, countermotions, disclosures and obfuscation, stays and executive orders. Lastly, there is a view of time since her last breath to his. Time is subjective like that, in inobvious ways. The linear march lends itself too easily to our preferred signposts.\n\nThe second drug goes in. It is meant to stop his heart. As the plunger pushes CCs of an otherwise indistinguishable chemical into his veins, Amos understands that he has now crossed the point of no return.\n\nIt is a lie to say he had no choice. His brother and sister knew the same want. His brother fixes cars. His sister answers phones for a doctor. He's seen his nephews once, before the visits became too burdensome. That is to say, there were other fates and options available to him. Even though he grew up broke, black, and angry. Even though she was white and college educated and had a loving family. He did not need a TV to fence. He did not need to hit her with a lamp. In hindsight, a burglary beef seems so much preferable to what happened. But that is not a benefit. It is a 20/20 curse.\n\nIn other words: the truth still escapes him. There are things that he did that he cannot undo. He would rather, given all he knows now, have been a better person. What is true is that he was wrong. What is true is that Amos is sorry.\n\nIt is also true that he feels more comfortable with other people telling him what he deserves, rather than having to reckon it himself.\n\nVaccuuming bromide, or some homophone thereof, is the last need to go into the IV. It will stop his breathing. Within a few minutes, his lights will dim and unbeknownst to him, either his heart or his lungs or maybe both will cease their reflexive functions. They, above all, have been indifferent to notions of right and wrong, pumping him through fourteen years without care for the pain inflicted on himself and others.\n\nIt is his time to go quietly into the night. Yet fate has too many contours and grooves to reach the stated ends of Those Who Would Ordain It. With the same caprice that led Amos Butler to shoot down Mary Lou Sheppard in the course of a home burglary gone awry, so it went that the things coursing his veins--criminality, regret, resentment, confusion, potassium chloride--conspired not to work in harmony towards an end. Rather it was that he, back arched and body racked with a crushing pain about the heart, went shuddering painfully into his final good bye, coughing, gagging, and trying to bellow that it wasn't supposed to have happened like this."
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[WP] Humanity builds its first space elevator in 2030, triggering the Babel Effect:We cannot understand a single thing anyone says, no matter how hard we try.
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"\"Spreche ich Deutsch?\" the Indian said in disbelief.\n\n\n\"Am I speaking German?\" kicked out the translator.\n\n\n\"Ha, eso es raro como el infierno\" the Brit laughed. He hesitated as he mentally walked back through his words.\n\n\nThe little metal box spoke \"Ha, that's weird as hell\"\n\n\n\"Mā, sore wa jissai ni wa mondaide wa arimasenga, sore wa sukoshi kimyōdesu...\" sounded a bit odd coming from the Russian, but the translator dutifully did its thing\n\n\n\"Well, it isn't really problematic, but it is a bit strange...\"\n\n\nWork continued on the space elevator without disruption.",
"\"Aig ngoi glsh gios?\" Grace paused, confused she tilted her head at what came out of her mouth. \"Ngdi?\"\n\nEveryone stopped to look over at Grace, wondering why she was speaking gibberish.\n\n\"Ugoirj oasfhr...ierua? fdojis!\" Henry tried to question her gibberish, only to be confronted by his own. Many others began trying to speak, all finding the same quality of language to come out as they spoke.\n\n\"gioaejhyr!\" One person squeaked, while another simply sat in silence not wishing to join the growing insanity.\n\n\"IUOFDH KDLJHG LHSDG OIGHJ!\" People began yelling, trying to understand what had become of them. \"MFD NIOET NIOGEN BGUIOGI! OIGFEJ!\"\n\nEventually everyone grew tired from yelling and sat there, solemn and confused.\n\n\"Aige greag mgdfi...\""
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[WP] You are stuck in traffic when something happens that causes you to leave your car and sprint away
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"I sat in my car anxious, pissed off and hot. It was a massive heat wave that enveloped the I-605 south. The heat was like a student loan officer, no matter where you went, no matter where you go, you couldn't escape. \nThe bumper to bumper traffic only increased the feeling of anger and helplessness; I wanted to kill somebody. It didn't help that the air-conditioner in my car wasn't working \n\nas I blasted the radio I began to think of home and it's lovely accommodations, air conditioning, cold water, etc. I searched for something on the radio when suddenly, something darted by my car. I check my side-view mirrors: it was a dog. The leash was still warped around it's neck. \n\"What the fuck is a dog doing on the freeway?\" I thought \"Did it jump out of someone's car?\" I contemplated. I turned my head from the mirrors and leaned forward towards the windshield to see if I could spot the owner but only saw people poking their heads out of their windows just as bewildered as I was. And that's when I heard it \"*REEEEEAAAAAAAGGGHH*\" it was an ugly squeal that seemed to echo across the freeway. \nA man next to me poked his head out of the passenger side \"You hear that shit?\" he asked, looking for confirmation. \"Hell yeah, scared the shit out of me.\" I replied, giving said confirmation. \"What do you think made it?\" he asked. \"I have no clue, it sounds like a women swallowed cigars, rusty nails and washed it down with some whiskey.\" I answered. \"Shit, couldn't put it better myself.\" he said as he and the driver laughed. As we sat in our cars a guy walked up the freeway, he was hunched over and looked very tall. He was walking in a rushed manner and appear to be wearing a red sweatshirt and grey pants. The heat bouncing of the ground made it hard to make out his features, it almost looked like he was underwater. \"Hey man, you think that's the owner of the dog?\" I said to the guy next to me. \"Maybe, he doesn't seem to much in a hurry though.\" said the guy. \"I know it's like he's taking a brisk walk on the fucking beach,\" as I said this, I realized something \"wait, maybe he has heat stroke.\" I said in a panicky tone. \"Shit, you might be right, heat makes people do weird shit.\" he replied. I sat in my car not sure what to do, I could call the 911, but there was no way they could get through this fucked up traffic. I thought about walking over there myself but I couldn't leave my car. Suddenly, the guy nest to me got out of his car. \"I'll be back bro, this dude needs some help.\" he said, armed with a water bottle. \"Be careful, man.\" I said cautiously. \"Sure thing,\" he replied with a smile. \"name's John by the way.\" he said.\n\"Tommy.\" I replied. He slowly jogged through the cars, careful enough to watch for signals and cars moving. But when John was about maybe 80 feet from the man wandering the freeway John stopped. and the wandering man stopped. And the wandering man's back straightened, and he raised his head, and that's when I heard that sound again *REEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHH*\" John quickly ran away and the figure gave chase. Even at John's highest speed he couldn't get away and the creature tackled him. I reached into glove compartment and pulled out an alligator wrench. I rushed out of my car and the driver of John's car was ahead of me \"John!\" he screamed. We both ran as fast as we could to reach them. But when we reached John and the creature, it was already to late. It was an ugly, grey, humanoid thing with long claws and a hunchback, it had yellow eyes and two rows of razor sharp teeth. It was covered in blood and feasting on John's lifeless body. \"Son of a bitch, you'll pay for this fucker.\" yelled the driver. The creature rose it's head and coiled like a cobra. It snarled loudly and prepared to attack. I readied my self, I didn't know what was gonna happen but either way this thing was not going to get out of this unscathed. As it lunged forward shots rang out and the creature, riddled with bullets, fell. \"You guys ok?\" asked the highway patrolman. \"I think so, we're not hurt.\" I replied. \"Good,\" he sighed \"we've been getting reports about these things all day, I advise that you both get back in your cars and wait patiently while I call for back up and direct traffic.\" he ordered. \"What about John?\" asked his friend. \"Sorry, but this is now a crime scene and you must leave the premises.\" said the patrolman. We both walked away, I felt like I should've said something but my mind was blank. As we walked off, I looked back, and I saw John, he was turning grey and his eyes were turning yellow. ",
"The stretch of cars beyond and behind me leered, the curve far ahead bending the road into what looked like a sly grin. A droll voice was commenting on the still traffic. The air conditioning barely buffeted the invasive heat; my tie and blazer lay discarded in the passenger seat. I sat in my car for what seemed to be an eternity, eyes growing heavy despite the choking calidity. We hadn't moved in half an hour, and I had busted my ass today. I just wanted to get home, to unwind in cool complacency. \n\nBut that wouldn't be for a very long time, if ever. The road leered.\n\nAs my eyelids danced their tired dance, a quick burst of motion in my side mirror hurtled me back to consciousness. A man in a white button-up darted from a silver Corolla. His hair was disheveled, brown. His sleeves were rolled up.\n\nHe looked exactly like me. \n\nI watched him weave between the stalled vehicles, his movements too uncannily similar to mine. I glanced between the traffic, miles ahead and motionless, and the panicked man behind me.\n\nI leapt out of a silver Corolla, pinpointing my running twin. I chased. \n\nAs he reached the guardrail, he frantically turned towards me. A jolt fizzled through him, he turned, he tried to jump over it. I caught his arm and jerked him back. Forest-green eyes stared into my own. An arm branded with an image of the solar system was inches from my identical tattoo. I looked the man up and down. I was staring into a mirror - only, there was no mirror.\n\n\"Who are you,\" I panted. \"Why do you look exactly like me? Why are you running?\"\n\nHis lips began to move. *My* lips. \"Please, let me go. For your own good, don't ask any more questions. Forget me.\" His eyes were imploring, his arms shaking feverishly. I maintained my grip.\n\n\"No. Are you my twin? Are you a stalker? What are you?\"\n\nMy doppleganger looked around, likely trying to plan escape. His - *my* - eyes rested on mine once again; they looked defeated. And tired. So very tired.\n\n\"I told you not to ask... but I can't blame you. I'm not you, obviously. But I am, also. I..\" He sighed, limbs going limp. I released my hold on his arm. \"For so long I have stolen lives. I never asked for this. I found myself in a situation like this. Stuck. I saw someone that looked like me. I went up to them, asked them what you asked me. I told you that you should go...\"\n\nHe began to mumble. I felt my pulse quicken. This guy was mad, and he had made himself my twin. I was in a dangerous situation. I began to back away.\n\nHis eyes grew wide. \"Things will change. Try to live a normal life. Try not to feel guilty. Just avoid your other as long as you can. Let them be happy for as long as they can. Don't make the mistakes I have.\" His tired eyes were fixed on me. It was surreal, seeing myself so deeply and terribly sad. \"You won't believe this now, but you will. I am going to replace you. I will live as you until I find another that looks like me - the original me. You'll always find someone that is a twin of your true self, and you will swap with that person. You will assume their true appearance and live as them, and vice-versa, until the cycle repeats. It's terrible, it's cruel, and I have suffered it for hundr-\"\n\nI sped away from him. I darted between cars that were slowly beginning to move. I flung open the door and slid into the seat. As I began to inch away, I saw the mirror man standing by the guard rail. He stared at me with sad green eyes. I looked back to the road. The hood of my car was orange. Bright, frantic blue eyes looked back at me in the rear-view mirror. \n\nIn the distance, the road gently curved. It looked almost like a smug smile."
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You were born with a thin and resilient film along the outside of your nervous system! Impervious to interfering brain waves and substantially resistant to pain.
Who took over everyone's mind? What group? What government? What SPECIES? How did they do it? What are their motives? What are their plans?
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[WP] The world falls victim to mind control, and due to genetic mutation, you are unaffected. You don't know if you're the only one, or what you are going to do next.
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" I open my open my eyes trying to push away the grogginess of the morning. My body aches all over from the night before but somehow I feel empowered by it. It's kind of like that feeling you get when you have a hard workout. That feeling when you know you wanted to quit but you kept fighting.\n \n I close my eyes again trying to wake up from this nightmare but when I open them I'm still in this night-\n \n \"CELL 1-1-5-9-9 PREPARE FOR ENTRANCE\", then there's a click and my door begins to open. Men begin to flood my room and I'm taken by the arms and thrust from my bed to the floor. One of them takes a device from his pocket and a shock feels my body.\n\n \nIm sorry if anyone (Which I doubt) wants to read the rest of this. I'm new to writing and i just couldn't pull it out of me to finish this story. I read somewhere that It was bad to just quit a story so I'm just going to post this anyway.",
"They Called it Salvation \n\nYou can blame the 2% Society for the current mess we are in, i.e upcoming human extinction\n\nApparently this group of whack jobs decided that world peace was not an option and with vast resources at hand developed a piece of technology that pacified the human race they called it Project Salvation. I called it the Zed Field.\n\nThis wasn't shall we say an optimal plan, oh it stopped ISIS, Russia, the US, terrorists well everybody and enabled humanity as a whole to deal with the effects of global warming and environmental decay pretty well but there were side effects.\n\nThe more things that were forced from people, the more damage done and pretty soon they were incapable of doing anything.\n\nFrantic efforts to reprogram the unit to get people to just perform basic functions worked to some degree,people eat, drink, sleep and so on but they don't do something very important.\n\nReproduce.\n\nApparently the amount of mind control used to make society sort of keep together had rendered people asocial and neuter. No one has sex or even communicates and while they can be programmed to mimic sex , male hydraulics don't work and women can't carry to term.\n\nMy hacking has shown that the 2% had planned to escape the effects by careful direction of the transmitters but something happened along the way, during the emergency phase and they were caught too. Hubris Begets Nemesis \n\nThere is however a slim chance for humanity . There is a facility, unguarded, deep in the Australian Outback with a computer intelligence that runs the mind-web and if I can get to it, I might, might be able to turn the thing off. Its protected by a Zed Field strong enough to kill. I seem to be immune though. \n\nIts a daunting task to even consider. I have to by myself get from Salt Lake City Utah to 400 miles into the Australian Outback without help or support. I barely drive , have never flown a plane and know little of boating or Australia. I'm no adventurer . \n\nI'm giving it another week with the Ham radio before I finish assembling the supplies. I'm hoping for a signal, someone anyone like me. If I can find that, we are going. If not I'll go it alone and if I die at least I'll die well. \n\nSo if anybody is getting this message, contact me. ASAP I could sure use the help \n\nBrody out.",
"It's funny how easy it is to get away with....... pretty much anything in a world where everyone is under mind control.\n\nIt started in Laos, of all places. A brilliant scientist managed to figure out how to transmit human though to machines. The part that began this horror show was the fact that his research showed how the mind worked with far more accuracy than any prior studies. Laos, or rather its insane leader whose name I can't recall, quickly kidnapped the poor man. Within 3 weeks they had put together the first of the Mind Suppressor beacons, and the world had fallen to once insignificant Laos in a matter of months.\n\nHowever, something strange happens when the majority of humanity thinks the same way. There is sort of a *reverberation* among the last of the free-thinkers, and they slowly start to join the rest of the mindless masses. Even the government of Laos, including the bastard how started all this and the scientist, fell victim to this phenomena.\n\nI, however, seem to be different. When there were still a few of us left, everyone else often commented on the pull they felt to act mindlessly. I did not. I felt no pull, no urge to join the empty minded masses.\n\nSince then, I have discovered that I can do anything with impunity.\nPeople still go on with their lives, eating, working, and even inventing. But there is no independent thought behind their actions, no personality. It is like living in a world full of robots. No one says anything if I take something, whether it is food or a new laptop, and I can pick any empty house I want to live in. They even make new video games, so I'm not totally bored. \n\nSo I have everything I could want, without even having to work for it, I should have no problems, right? *Sigh*. A world full of robots is damn lonely. I can't even have sex, because no girl is even *able* to talk to me, and I'm not about to resort to rape. The Internet is silent, no one has an opinion to voice or a need for entertainment.\n\nI don't know how, but I have to find someone.",
"*The following posts are taken from an online blog. Post dates follow the Gregorian Calendar and some posts contain language considered offensive at the time of posting.*\n\n&nbsp;\n\n*Apr 12 2015*\n\n\nEveryone’s so distant today. :(\n\n&nbsp;\n\n*Apr 13 2015*\n\n\nMark hasn’t spoken to me all day. I wish he would just tell me what’s wrong. I can’t help if he doesn’t communicate. Why take it out on me?\n\n&nbsp;\n\n*Apr 14 2015*\n\n\nSomething is seriously wrong. People are more than just distant. I couldn’t put my finger on it over the weekend, but today... On the way to work it occurred to me just how peaceful everything was. Sitting in rush hour traffic and there was just... peace. No horns no jacked up radios just peace.\n\nEveryone is behaving just like Mark. It’s like they’re all under some kind of spell. I just left the office and no one batted an eye. No one has called wondering where I am.\n\nAnd it’s everyone. I spent most of yesterday evening checking for cameras, I got it into my head I was being Punk’d. I’m waiting desperately for someone to ask me ‘Are you scared?’ Because I should be... and I am. But if it’s a trick it’s one hell of a trick. I can’t find a single new social post anywhere on the internet. No one is answering their phones, no one is answering Skype.\n\nI just tried checking the news. The anchors are just sitting there. Staring. They’re not saying anything!\n\nWhat. The. Fuck.\n\nIs there anybody out there?\n\n&nbsp;\n\n*Apr 19 2015*\n\n\nWhat would do something like this? To control and entire species of sentient creatures and do nothing but have them continue their daily routines. It’s been a few days since I last posted, nothing has changed. Everyone is just going through the motions. They wake, eat, go to work and come home again. \n\nTwo days ago I was just watching them at the grocery store. The checkout lines now a master class in item processing efficiency. Yes, they all still shop, and the workers still take payment. The only words I’ve heard live since this whole thing started are the dispassionate declarations of sum totals. I let my anger out at an old man picking tinned beans off a shelf. It was as if I didn’t even exist.\n\nIt’s hard. Mark still sleeps next to me. Most mornings I wake to find myself snuggled up to him, as if nothing has changed. But things *have* changed, he no longer snuggles back. I think tonight I will take the couch. I just can’t.\n\nSomeone please tell me what’s going on. This isn’t funny.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n*Apr 23 2015*\n\n\nI have started conducting experiments. There must be some kind of limit to what people will tolerate before snapping out of it. Today I escalated from verbal to physical harassment. You should see how they react, or rather how they don’t. I will shove someone as hard as I am able and they will stumble momentarily before resuming their prior activity. It’s fascinating. Stand in their way and they’ll just walk around you. In the moment I’m always paranoid that the person will suddenly ask me what I think I’m doing, before the men in white coats come and swiftly take me away.\n\nUpside, I walked out of the grocery store with a full bag of items and no one stopped me. I haven’t been to work in days and no one has called, not even to tell me I’m fired. I won’t be going back. Too creepy.\n\nFree food and no work I could get used to though. :)\n\n&nbsp;\n\n*Apr 24 2015*\n\n\nThey’re still people, I have to believe that, and I don’t want to hurt anyone. But just shoving and impeding people isn’t working. I have to be more scientific about this. I thought perhaps the shock of pain would wake someone up. \n\nI was wrong. Slap, punch, kick... Not so much as an “Excuse me.” It’s funny how quickly you can go from being hesitant, to almost enjoying the primal relief the violence has, especially under such frustrating circumstances. I must try to keep that in check.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n*Apr 26 2015*\n\n\nI couldn’t stand watching him sit silently eating cereal in the morning, so yesterday I hid the cereal. He made toast. Fuck you and fuck your toast. I want him back, the real him, not this cruel reminder. \n\nThis morning I woke early and tied him to the bed. He’s in there now. I thought maybe if I could bring a halt to the routine it might change something. He struggled against the bindings for about 5 measly seconds before accepting his new circumstances. Now he just lies there, impotent. Perhaps whoever or whatever is doing all this will notice his break protocol and I’ll finally get to confront them.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n*Apr 29 2015*\n\n\nI’m a horrible person. Today I went to bathe him and unwittingly discovered he was still... *responsive*... to certain stimuli. I used him him there and then. I’m not proud of it, but until you have lived this you will never understand what it’s like to lose so much intimacy so suddenly. This is so fucked up. \n\nI know now he isn’t coming back. None of them are coming back.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n*May 04 2015*\n\n\nI’ve got nothing left to lose. It’s desperate measures time. I let Mark’s place holder go back to doing it’s ever so important job of whatever the fuck people do at warehouses now that no one wants anything. Earlier I wondered what exactly the UPS vans still driving around were actually doing. \n\nI ordered one of those animal control poles off of Amazon. The whole system still functions. This morning the doorbell rang and there he was, void of expression, package and clipboard in hand. I signed and off he went. Maybe these place holders still buy stuff I don’t know.\n\nI caught a woman. She’s vaguely familiar, just a face around the neighbourhood I guess. She’s locked in the basement now. There are things I need to try that I couldn’t bring myself to try on place holder Mark. I should be down there doing it now but I’m a coward. I need a hard drink first.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n*May 05 2015*\n\n\nIf they feel pain, they don’t show it.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n*May 06 2015*\n\n\nI never pictured myself googling ‘how to dispose of a body’, I wonder if it still raises an alert somewhere. I wonder what law enforcement even does any more. No one I’ve fucked with has called on them.\n\nShe was a lot heavier going out than coming in, I didn’t consider that. I hoped I might see some kind of spark relight as the end overcame, but her dead eyes just stayed dead. Maybe they are all dead. Maybe it’s some kind of virus that kills the conscious part of the brain, and only I am immune to it. No it can’t be, too sudden.\n\nSomeone give whoever invented vodka a medal.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n*May 08 2015*\n\n\nMy sights now are set firmly on pissing off whatever is behind this shit show. If they want everything running like clockwork well, I’m gonna jam a great big spanner in the works. Maybe once they’re missing a few pawns they might react. I realise now that they’re all as good as dead already... and that’s liberating.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n*May 15 2015*\n\n\nI’ve lost count. I’m having nightmares. When will they stop me?????\n\nPlease just someone somewhere let me know that it isn’t all just fucking fucked...\n\n&nbsp;\n\n***Oct 22 2018***\n\n\nHaha wow I forgot about this blog. Reading all the past entries has been a real cute trip down memory lane. I guess this one’s for you future archaeologists, *human or other.*\n\nI wish I could offer some kind of closure, but hell, you probably know more than me. I never have discovered the acting force behind all this. Certainly whatever it is it doesn’t care one iota about the people it controls. I’ve killed so many. So fucking many...\n\n\nTonight is movie night. My pick. I’ve never been about the whole comic movie dealio but... well Mark loves the Avengers so why not? After all, it will be our last night together. I’ve decided there is nothing more I can do, so I’m going to go travel. I mean fuck it, I can do pretty much whatever I want right?\n\n\nBefore I go though, there is one last thing I need to do. I’m going to set Mark free... finally. It’s out of pure selfishness that I haven’t done it sooner. If there’s any part of him still in there I know it wants this ordeal over. After all, what kind of life is work / eat / sleep for a human being?\n\n&nbsp;\n\n*No further posts were made. This currently remains the only first hand account of the Concensus ever to be recovered.*"
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[WP] Using exactly 50 words, tell me a complete story.
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"He woke up. Looked in the mirror at shards of broken glass, reflecting the pain. He left for work, exposing himself to the monotonous, depressing, arduous tasks that he desperately needed in order to stay afloat on this Earth. It was enough. He came home and sunk. He killed himself.\n\n*I tried, might be a poem, but I like it.*",
"\"It was back in '82 I met Winston - course back then it was a normal name, and I had no idea what he would end up doing.\"\n\nOne of the scientists piped up \"*Would have done* - if it weren't for you.\"\n\n\"Right,\" sighed Sam, \"*'Would have'*... god damned time travel.\"\n",
"He shook in the seat, clasping his hands. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. The doors opened, and someone stepped through. Expectantly, he looked up at them. A grim frown slid onto his face after seeing the doctor’s expression. Her eyes told him that it was exactly what he had feared. Another miscarriage.",
"The brisk air rustled the leaves above them, and as she stood, he hesitated for a brief moment. As though tying his shoe, he knelt, and pulled something from his jacket pocket. A small black box. Her eyes grew alarmingly wide, and he smiled his warmest smile. She said yes.",
"He had had it with this infestation. The weevils had completely decimated his crops. Shaking his fist at his desolate fields, he vowed revenge.\n\nThe following year, a friend told him, “Just use poisoned honey to trace a path to a trap.”\n\n“Why?”\n\n“Honey is the route of all weevils.”",
"\"Wake up, mommy\", he cried over his mother's bloodied corpse.\n\n\"I was just playing, please wake up, mommy.\"\n\nEyes drenched, he feebly attempted to wipe the mixture of tears and blood out of his eyes.\n\nLife would never be the same. He was just trying to play on the roof.",
"I smelled smoke, but no alarms sounded.\nI hurried to Mom's room and found her asleep in her chair.\nI licked her hand.\nShe stirred.\nI called for her.\nShe awoke.\nSmoke filled the air.\nThe flames engulfed the curtains.\nWe fled outside.\nCoughing, she patted my head, \"Good Boy!\"",
"The first time I was kidnappend by aliens I was 12. They used their probes on me and everything, then sent me back home. \n\nMy parents think that made me gay, although I'm not attracted to men. But it's better they believe that than know about my green men fetish. ",
"Today's the day.\nWednesday. \n\nToday I will tell the girl of my dreams that I love her.\n\nMy watch reads 7:56AM.\n\nShe'll be here soon.\n\nMy fear grows.\n\nI grasp the rose in my pocket.\n\n8:00am, she'll walk through.\n\n\"Hi\", she said, passing by, with her friend next to her.\n\nTomorrow's the day. Thursday."
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[WP] "I'm coughing up blood and it ain't mine"
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"I TOLD EVERYONE I WAS FEELING FINE\nBUT I'M COUGHING UP BLOOD, AND IT AIN'T MINE!\nAnd then thrashing. Terrible, electric, distorted, thrashing.\n\nHailey hated this noise, she hated this \"music\". \n\nBut she loved Chelsea.\n\nThat’s the reason she was here right? Bouncing around in a sea of humanity listening to four technical college dropouts thrash away on craigslist specials. She was here because she loved Chelsea.\n\nShe loved her pierced lip and scraggily hair, she loved her quick laugh and the way she made coffee black yet mild.\nAnd when Chelsea had asked her to come to the concert tonight how could Hailey say no?\n\nShe’d been trying to work up the courage to ask her out for months. Months of coming into the coffee shop and ordering the same drink and making the same jokes and enjoying that quick laugh. She couldn’t say no.\n\nEven though she was now in her own personal hell. Sweaty bodies grinding against one another as too loud music breaches the sanctuary of her ears. But what made it all better was the sweaty grinding body to her right.\n\nWith every pulse of the crowd backwards and forwards Chelsea would spoon into Hailey. \n\nIn those moments Hailey was in heaven. Those moments made the concert fly by.\n\nIn the last moments, during the power ballad, Chelsea leaned back into Hailey. Hailey wrapped her arms around, the moment is right.\n\nThey kiss, it’s wet, It’s glorious, It’s everything Hailey wanted.\n\nShe pulls bag and looks into Chelsea’s eyes, terror flashes across them.\n\nIt’s only then that she sees the blood pouring from Chelsea’s mouth. \n\nShe was dying, choking, and could not be heard over the crowd.\n\nHailey tries to scream. But begins to choke and cough.\n\nRed mist sprays onto Chelsea’s face. The crowd is panicking around her as everyone falls to the same affliction.\n\nChelsea and Hailey fall to the ground, the crowd is panicked, trampling like wild animals.\n\nOne thought runs through Hailey’s mind as they die.\n\n“I’m coughing up blood, and it ain’t mine. “\n\n",
"\"Freddy!\" His mom yelled, backing deeper into the empty house.\n\n\"It's me, ma!\" Her son laughed, stepping through the shattered glass. She watched as his silhouette, blackened by the full moon illuminating through the broken front door, walked in, eagerly slicing the soles of his feet to see is long lost mommy, cracking and snapping the glass underfoot.\n\n\"Stay back, Fred!\" She rose the bat and continued her shivering walk higher up the ascending stairs, \"Stay back!\"\n\nFreddy sighed, \"Ma! This how ya gonna be like when ya first born see ya?\" He stood at the foot of the stair case, black blood stains shimmer through the glass. The only source of light is the moon through the front door, well, until Freddy says, \"Ma, now ya got me worried, you be walking these stairs backward, and with not a care for ya tender hip.\" He flicks on the light switch, the over head light beams on, exposing the couple to each other-\n\n\"Oh my Lord!\" Ma bursts into a shattering yell, seeing her long lost first born. She drops the bat and begins cry. \n\n\"No, no, no! Mama!\" He lays one pale hand over the banister, taking a step up. \"Rejoice!\" His voice took on deeper tone, something intelligible, and godforsaken. \"Your son,\" - another step - \"is alive, once battered and bruised,\" - another step - \"lost and sorrowed,\" - another step - \"rejoice, mother! I am FOUND.\" His voice booms, shaking with a gravity of its own. \"I'm back, mama!\" Reverting back to Freddy. Simple Freddy. \"And I love you, ma.\" He takes a knee at the last step to his mother. \"I'm back, ma, and I love ya.\" His pale four finger hand reaches and takes his mothers shivering, veiny hand, and he kiss the palm of it. His lips leave a crimson stain. \n\n\"F-Fred,\" His mother stutters to say, \"What happen to you and your dad?\"\n\n\"Pa, well he made sure I get like this - lying son-of-a-gun... But, ma,\" His pure ebony eyes look dark up, reflecting to the mother her own worry torn face, \" les not ask questions that'll put us in an ick. I'm back, and we should praise the high power, ma.\"\n\nUnblinking, she whispers, \"Do you mean... God?\"\n\nFreddy flinches inward, hunching at an internal pain, red leaks over his lips. But, over the hunger, he says, \"Ye-Yes, ma! G-\" Before he could finish His name, Freddy heaves out a heap of blood, over the banister, white maggots uncurl as it hits the ground.\n\n\"Ma,\" Freddy says over the stabbing pain, \"please, dontcha yell, it hurts me worser than this here...\"\n\nHis mother covers here mouth, closing her eyes and begins to silently pray, she too is kneeling with her son.\n\"Why'd you come back, Freddy, why! Oh, Lord, please don't hurt me!\"\n\n\"Mama! How could you even think dat?\" With both mangled hands, he grabs his mothers aged, folded hands, and says, \"You deserve what I and Pa stole from you, Mama, you deserve a proper prayer for Billy-\" He turns his head and coughs. Violently couch, he tips backward, about to tumble down the stairs, before his mother takes his rancid torso into her arms, holding him up. His coughs being to flow red, and he grips on to his mothers sweater, gagging on the blood. In her hold, he looks at her, smiling through the blood, \"I'm coughing blood and it ain't even mine! Ha!\" He throws his head up and over the banister, hosing the lower floor in maggot-filled red ooze. He drops down, sinking on to the stair before his mother. \n\nShe is speechless. \n\nHe gets up and takes he hands once more, looking into her eyes, he says, \"Les pray one more time, mama, you and me and Billy-boy, like em ol' days.\" He bows his head, and closes his eyes. \"Pray that one you do for them boys at Sunday school.\"\n\nThe mother's eyes tear at the memory of her two boys playing in the field, Sunday birds humming in the distance.\n\"Okay... For you and Billy.\"\nFreddy lets out a soft cry at his name, and holds back his black tears, but says, \"Bill be doing good, ma, he happy where he goes. Now, ma, don't stop the prayer until its finished, no matter what makes me violent, jus keep doin it for us.\"\nThe mother nods and begins the prayer.\n\n\"For God\" Freddy instantly twitches his neck, snapping sounds from every broken bone being to crack, he groans in pain, \"so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son,\" from every unhealed wound, Freddy bleeds blood that gave him life, \"that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.\"\n\nThe air picks up around them, whirling and shaking the house.\n \n\"For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.\" Freddy, piece by piece, begins to chip away, chunks of pale-blue flesh fall and whither away.\n\n\"Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because they have not believed in the name of God’s one and only Son.\" The wind bellows, spashing the rotten intestinal gunk over his mother and around the house. \n\n\"This is the verdict:\" She roars, hearing the whispers of terrible deed through the unnatural wind. \"Light has come into the world, but people loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil.\" Freddy's jaw is torn off, his tongue beings to melt into a thick puddle. \n\n\"Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that their deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what they have done has been done in the sight of God.\"\n\nThe wind stops. She opens her eyes and Freddy is no longer there. The stink and rot has evaporated, the chunks of flesh have vanished. The broken door is still broken.\n\nShe stands up and calls her ex-husband.\n\n\"When can you come to fix the door?... That's fine. By the way, Frank, hows Freddy? You've been looking after him ...he's been working for you- oh 'he's doing fine'? Really... Put him on the phone- oh he's gone? Fishing... Frank- Frank - You're gonna get whats coming to you-\"\n",
"The response was no. I was adamant. I would not take no for an answer. I was warned about the risks, the filth, but I wasn't really listening. I went ahead and did it anyways. The chance to save millions with this one sided effort. I would not be stopped. \n\nI let my emotions get the best of me. The deed was done. Hours later I began to feel sick. Coughing up this blood in the stretcher the paramedics asked me what happened? You did what!? They asked incredulously while looking at me with disgust. \"I couldn't help it\" I said. \"I love her THAT much\" ",
"No! Not like this! Jumped to my feet; sprinted the walkway.\n\nNo! Not here! All smiles faded. Water and slick grass under my feet.\n\nNow on my knees. Pounding, pounding again and again.\n\nScreams all around.\n\nA blaring siren swift approaching.\n\nKiss me back!\n\n\"Let go! LET GO OF ME!\"\n\n\"It's no use, she's already dead.\"\n\nA cascade of coughs and tears.\n\nMy love on the sidewalk, a bullet through the neck.\n\nMy mouth tasted of death and revenge.\n\nI'm coughing up blood and it should be mine.",
"The blood spilled out of my mouth. As I had destroyed the soldier sent to kill me, by ripping out his throat, some blood had went into my lungs. \nI was the last of my kind, thanks to the \"brave\" and \"courageous\" soldiers. So what, I was a vampire. I had never hurt a person before the war began. \nThey had hunted us down because we were unknown to them. But we hit back like a rolling train. The secrets scared them more than death, so they chose to embrace the later. By starting this war they had ensured the genocide of an entire species, for neither one of us would stop fighting till the other was dead. \nThis lead to where I am now. In the middle of a war zone, standing above a dead human. His blood was sweet, maybe O-negative. But it got caught in my throat, making me cough it up onto the bloodied grass. It stuck to my throat and felt warm. \nI cried at the bodies of my kind, who lay among the dead. It was chilling, seeing them mixed in so perfectly with the ones they killed. And I was the last. And the blood I coughed up was of the last human. \nI shed a tear, for now both of us were dead.",
"I'm coughing up blood that isn't mine,\nA finger of fear shivers down my spine,\nJust a week ago I'd been feeling fine,\nBut, now there's blood that is not mine.\n\nThe patient had been very sick,\nThe Ebola virus deadly quick,\nI, the doctor they had picked,\nTo handle blood that was not mine.\n\nHer eyes blazed red in slackened face,\nI took note of jaundice in her case,\nAnd my pulse sped up its pace,\nWhen I saw blood that was not mine.\n\nHer airway blocked with a choking rasp,\nI searched for vitals as she gasped,\nHer fingers moving - unclenched, clasped,\nShe vomited blood that was not mine.\n\nUp it came, this fountain of red,\nSpeckling my eyes, my mouth, her bed,\nThen the patient lay still; dead,\nAnd I spat blood that was not mine.\n\nSeveral days have passed me by,\nWith headaches, nausea - 'Why me!' I cry,\nFor all agree that I will die,\nCoughing blood that is not mine.",
"The body-swap process seemed a miracle when it was first introduced. The sheer potential of what possibilities it could create. Combined with cloning, life could be sustained forever. Transgender people could truly achieve what they could only dream about before. Bodies could be grown and witness protection could be near-perfect. People could have their ideal body without a trace of what they were before.\n\nBut the technology could be used for immoral practices as well. One of the first recorded examples of this was the case of Julian Brown. Julian had been an upstanding citizen, he had worked at a Best Buy for most of his life. But he had terrible luck. He ended up as a victim of the first true murder-suicide.\n\nOn his way home from work, he was accosted by a man who reportedly owned an illegal version of this technology, pirated by way of a legally bought 3d printer. He was forced into one brain-helmet, and his attacker took the other. The switch was thrown and they were swapped.\n\nAccording to Julian himself, there was momentary confusion as he stumbled about in the much larger body. By the time he had cleared his head, his body was holding a knife. He rushed to stop his own body, but still off balance he was unable to stop his murderer from finishing himself off. The killer stabbed himself in the lungs, and rumor has it that his last words were \"I'm coughing up blood, and it ain't mine.\"\n\nSoon afterward a new body was cloned for Julian and his life went relatively back to normal. There is a feature film in the works of his experiences within the body he had been forced into during his clone's growth cycle. It is rumored that Nicholas Cage will be playing pre-change Julian's role, while Leonardo DiCaprio will be the psycho killer and Julian after the change. In theaters this fall."
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