Split (1)

train · 199k rows

post_text stringlengths 0 17.5k	post_title stringlengths 8 314	comment_texts listlengths 1 74	num_stories int64 1 74
	[WP] A lone scientist has perfected human genetic engineering, and released a 'Human 2.0' into the world to see what happens.	[ "“Friedrich!” My “father” shouted in a thick German accent. “What have I told you about these video games?”\n\n“I told you dad!” I retorted. “I want to be a regular guy. Go to work. Go home. Play some Call of Duty. Maybe one day raise a family. And I told you I go by Freddy now.”\n\n“No. Unacceptable.” He said curtly. “I made you with genius levels of intelligence. I made with a body composition ideal of peak levels of physical condition. I made you immune to ninety percent of the world’s plagues. And this is how you reward my craftsmanship? You want to be normal?”\n\n“Yes!” I desperately cried. “Do you know how it feels to be expected only to take breaks from my research to win Olympic gold medals? No man should be put under that pressure. It’s not fair.”\n\n“Son,” my dad said with surprising tenderness. “You have a responsibility. You have the ability to do so much. If you saw a man being mugged and you are able to stop him, you have a responsibility to do so. It is like what the arachnid guy says. ‘with great power comes great responsibility.’”\n\n“I didn't ask for that responsibility.” I yelled.\n\n“Nobody does!” My father screamed. “And nobody would! But we are all created with special talents we must share with the world.”\n\n“So you created me.” I spoke darkly. “I’m your excuse for never using your so-called ‘great mind’ to fix the world. You can’t do it personally so you made me.”\n\n“Get out.” My father said through gritted teeth. I paused for a moment. “GET OUT!”\n\nI walked out the door with fists clenched and hot tears running down my face. I ran. I ran for hours away from the cursed man and his wretched lab. When I finally stopped, I was more alone than I ever knew possible. ", "The musky aroma of his own perspiration filled his navel cavity, while scientist Kyle Han worked on the latest, and possibly greatest, project of his career.\n\n\"You are the fruit of my labors\" he remarked to the perfectly aesthetic body that lay before him on a the chrome table top.\n\nThe life-form, although resembling a human, was significantly much more than your average earth dweller. Its eyes grazed every detail of the room with the curiosity of a child, soaking in every sub-atomic detail of its surrounding. \n\n\"I....am the fruit, of your labors?\" the being repeated questionably\n\n\"Yes. Yes you are. Now, come to your feet, lets see if you can stand.\" the scientist grabbed his creations hand in an attempt to pull it to its feet. But, quicker than he could respond, he watched as his own arm was torn from the socket and hit the floor with a meaty thud that splashed red spots onto the clean contour of his lab shoes. \n\nHe had forgotten. Forgotten that his creation possessed the combined strength of 20 humans put together. Kyle Han fell to the floor screaming with the ferocity of a woman giving birth. He sat, in shock, in a pool of his own blood, staring into the indifferent eyes of his creation, whom made no attempt to help him. \n\nThe being stood. Kyle watched his creation as it came to his feet and walked toward the lab coats hanging on the wall behind them, and covered itself. The being made its way to the exit door of the lab, walking with a pace that portrayed no rush, but a certain guidance that meant it had plans. Kyle was in no position to chase after the being, as he was bleeding out on the floor. He knew this was probably the last time he would see his creation. It was up to the world to teach the being now, and if Kyle knew anything about the world, it was that it was full of greed, corruption, and a powerful will to survive. Kyle reached for the nearest piece of paper and scribbled the fumbled letters to write,\n\n\"My legacy, is a new beginning for all....-K. Han\"\n" ]	2
	[WP] You are a Clairvoyant who can see the futures of other people. A child who suddenly passes you, and you see that the child becomes the most brutal dictator ever known in the future, and what caused the child to be that dictator in the future happens in the next five minutes.	[ "The thing I hate the most about being able to see the future is that people won't stop asking me for prophecies. Literally. I've had this job for about six thousand years and know nothing about poetry. But It's my duty to fufill their requests. In fact, it's against some kind of cosmic rule to help people change their future. So, these prophecies have to be vague enough where no one can figure them out, and for some reason they have to rhyme and sound awesome. Ugh.\n\nThe thing I like the best (okay, second best after the kind of April Fool's Day pranks you can pull on people) is seeing ransom people's futures. There's something entrancing about knowing something no one else knows, and not having to do anything about it.\n\nWell, that was true until this guy had asked me to write a prophecy for him. He was getting promoted. I was sitting in a cafe in downtown Paris, brainstorming. Father up the tree/that's where you'll be. \n\nI saw this little kid run past. Out of sheer curiosity, I took a glance into his future. \n\nMillions dead, their bodies just lying in the streets.\n\nCities flattened, all by a single blast.\n\nArmies marching, and marching, and marching, and marching and marching and marchingandmarchingandmatchingandmarching, across the entire world. \n\nI was taken back by this vision. It was worse then the one I'd seen for that Greek prince. \n\nBut I have another ability, too. This one I hardly ever use, especially since I only found out about it about fifty years ago, and it's totally useless. I can see when people are going to become who they are going to become. And I look at this, for this kid. Five minutes. Not even. Four minutes and thirty seconds. Twenty. Ten. I watch as the kid runs across the street. \n\nThen, suddenly, another person materializes in front of him. Wearing clothes that won't be in style for another hundred years. Carrying a gun that won't be invented for another fifty. \n\nHe pulls it up, turns off the safety, fires. But as he's firing, a car swerves into him. The time traveler falls over, misses his mark.\n\nI get up. I have to. I run to the kid. I have to. I pull out my phone. I have to. I dial three numbers. I have to.", " The future is never set in stone. In fact there are normally so many different possibilities that it hurts for Clairvoyants to see them all. But with practice, Clairvoyants can pinpoint a turning point; a crossroad that decides between two most drastic outcomes. \n\n As you left the World Congress building, you realized that you do have a lot of spare mana stored up, what with missions getting few and far in between. With that, you decided to focus your powers on an unseemly child who passed by, looking afraid and lost. \n\n And the visions shocked you. Before your Eye, flashes the scene of the very building behind you bursting into flames while the child watched afar, and yet there was another possibility- the child walking away with his parents, alive and well. The visions then skipped into the future- visions of a hellscape, a man sitting upon his golden throne, slaves at his feet and a gaudy crown upon his head. Yet a tamer possibility existed- a future not unlike the present, depicting a shy florist working in the suburbs. You had always believed that nature triumphed nurture, but perhaps, you thought, the loss of his parents was enough to tip this boy over. \n\nYou rushed into building with the child, knowing you had only five minutes to get him and his parents out. You proceed to the information counter, get them to make an announcement and all that. 3 minutes left. The parents finally arrive. You paid them no heed, looking down at your watch and realizing there's little over a minute remained. Great. How would you persuade them to leave? \n\nBefore you could think up a coherent plan, the child dashed out of the building frantically. Oh well, at least he's helped you get the last stage settled. You rushed out together with the boy's parents, who catched up with the boy and scooped him up. \n\n\"Oh kids these days, you know how they are,\" laughed the mother. \n\n\"Yeah I-\"\n\nThe mother turned around, she was smiling but her eyes were empty. \n\n\"Thank you so much\" she said, but her words sent a shiver down your spine. \n\nThey left and the building behind you burst into flames. There was screaming and blaring sirens and falling debris, but you could only stand there, shocked and rooted to the ground. You had opened your Eye just as they left, and the future was set in stone. The future would be hell. ", "\"I want the yellow one!\" the kid squealed. John looked at the mother and child ahead of him on the escalator. The kid was hopping from foot to foot, pointing at an advert wrapped along the balconies of the shopping mall that depicted the latest in a line of animated toys.\n\n\"What do we say?\" the boys mother admonished. Her tone made John smile, reminding him of his own mother, as images flashed through his mind showing him how his mother would die.\n\nHe had seen her death since he was a young boy. It was peaceful, tranquil. Knowing things ahead of time wasn't always a curse. He had made sure she was at her favourite park, watching the swans eat bread. Would make sure. Would. Even after thirty years the tenses still confused him.\n\nThe boy hung his head and mumbled an \"I would like\" to his mother. She reached down to peck him on the cheek, but the boy dodged away to avoid the display of affection, brushing against John as he did so.\n\nThe world crashed away. This was not peaceful. Sights wrapped in sounds twisted in feelings of agony exploded within John's mind as memories of things to be clawed their way into his skull.\n\nThe vendor. Handing over a small toy. The boy beaming at his mother. The man. Ski mask. Gun. Glistening, silver, deadly, outstretched. Shouts. The boy looked down the barrel, honest. Mother, wrapping her body around his own, jerking, shuddering, growing cold. So cold. John wept but the boy did not. Time. Time gnawed at the wound. The boy became a man. The man became a monster.\n\nCrime meant death. Death became policy. Policy became party, and soon the boy cradling his yellow toy stood on a parapet, holding a nation.\n\nThe present returned, a cold trickle of sweat the only visible sign of the years, decades, of hell John had endured. He saw the mother clutch her childs hand. Love.\n\nReaching into his Christmas shopping he pulled out a small box. The little figure, golden yellow arms waving through the plastic wrapping, meant for his own son. It was the smallest acts that held the greatest impacts. A snowball became an avalanche.\n\n\"Excuse me.\" The woman turned to stare at the man behind her, instinctively clutching her child closer. John smiled, holding up the toy. \"I forgot my son likes the red one. Please, take it, as an early present.\"\n\nThe boys eyes shone with anticipation as he looked between the man, his mother and the outstretched toy. A moment of hesitation crossed her mind, before she nodded. The boy snatched the package with a squeal of delight.\n\n\"What do we say Daniel?\"\n\n\"Thank you mister!\"" ]	3
	[WP] The last two people on earth are the same gender.	[ "Mariah scanned the landscape through the scope of her hunting rifle. The street was deserted and utterly still, bar the occasional wandering leaf that skittered under the abandoned cars and past the shattered shop windows that lined the street. A blanket of fog covered everything more than a dozen metres away, giving the looming silhouettes of the buildings a sinister effect.\n\nShe frowned. There had definitely been a voice calling out a moment ago, but the fog everywhere made it impossible to see where it might have come from. She decided to risk revealing her position by calling back.\n\n'Hello?' she shouted into the mist. 'Is there someone there?'\n\n'Yes!' came the reply. A woman's voice. Mariah relaxed, but only by a fraction. This person might not be friendly. Months of surviving alone had increased her natural pessimism to the extent where she could trust no-one.\n\n'Come here slowly with your hands where I can see them!' she shouted back. A moment later, a young woman came out of the mist, hands raised to shoulder level. She couldn't have been older than twenty years old. Her clothes were a pair of mud-spattered boots, old jeans, a thick black jacket over a red T-shirt, and a small bag slung over her shoulder.\n\nMariah kept her rifle aimed at the other woman as she approached, stopping a few metres away. They stared at each other for a long moment, then Mariah shouldered the rifle. This person was not a threat, she knew.\n\n'I'm Alannah,' she said, tentatively lowering her hands. 'And I think we might be the last two people on Earth.'\n\n'And why's that?' said Mariah brusquely, keeping an eye out for any danger around them. She began to walk back down the street, gesturing for the other woman to follow.\n\n'Well, everyone else just disappeared,' replied Alannah. 'Except us. I've driven halfway across the country to get here because my father lived in the suburbs of this city. And the whole way here, I didn't see one other person. Just deserted towns and highways. You're the first person I've seen in a month.'\n\n'So what do you think that means?' said Mariah, turning a corner and shielding her eyes against the last rays of the setting sun. She was only half-listening to the conversation.\n\n'Well, we're the whole of the human race now,' Alannah replied. 'We have to preserve the knowledge of mankind, that sort of thing.'\n\n'Yeah, I'm not really bothered with preserving something no-one's going to need again,' said Mariah, stepping over a large pile of rubble where a gas mains had exploded. The explosion had taken out a large chunk of a nearby building.\n\n'What about when people come back?'\n\n'Listen, no-one's going to come back,' said Mariah. 'Not unless we somehow start repopulating the planet ourselves, and since neither of us have man parts, that's not going to happen any time soon either!'\n\n'We'll just have to hope, then,' said Alannah.\n\n'I lost all hope a long time ago,' said Mariah. 'If you keep holding onto the idea that there'll be people around again sometime in the future, you're going to die. This world is no place for someone who holds onto the past. They're gone. Get over it and start thinking about how to defend yourself.'\n\nThe other woman seemed shocked by her outburst. 'Sorry,' she said after a moment. 'I lost friends and family too, and I do miss them. But you need to be able to lock those feelings in a chest and throw away the key. It's the only way you'll survive your own thoughts.'\n\nAlannah looked like she was about to say something, but she kept her mouth shut and nodded grimly. Mariah smiled a small smile as she turned and reached under a nearby car for the second rifle she kept there for emergencies. She unwrapped it from its waterproof cover and handed it to the other woman.\n\n'It's good to have someone else around, I guess,' she said with a wry grin. 'With two of us, we might just get through this.'\n\nThe two women stood back to back as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, throwing the city into darkness. Then the howls began.", "\"This probably borders on the realm of sanity and pure insanity.\" I looked at Laura as she shakily locked with my eyes. I had a trembling feeling deep inside my gut, this was one of those times I have the utmost reluctant confidence in it. That is unbelievably confusing. Fuck.\n\nOh shit, Let me explain! You know what I'm talking about. There's no one collective conclusion to which I can base it on, but I guess it's the sum of all the experiences you've had to this point. It's no authoritative obligation by any means. You have it though, and somehow the only reason you realize you have it is retrospectively when you realize you should have went with it.\n\n\"I haven't told anyone about this since, well... it happened.\" Laura said. I have every reason to not trust her. I woke up, I walked, I found her. That's it. I haven't had any other reason to hope anything else is here, We're together out of obligation.\n\nLaura was tall and curvaceous. She had long brown hair, with bangs. Her tattoos blended into an array of color I had no idea of which what it meant, but it was still, beautiful. Her eyes, brown... today. They changed colors from time to time, and I never noticed since I was to distracted by the way she looked at me.\n\nI can be a Lesbian now... I guess. I mean, it makes sense. I never knew what was happening to me, but I just knew there had to be more then this.\n\n\"I'm...\" Laura stuttered.\n\nFucking spit it out. Christ.\n\n\"Trans...gender. Transgender.\"\n\nWhat? \n\n\"I haven't said anything since we met, because I haven't been with anyone since my wife left me. I never loved again. I'm this now. It's me.\"\n\nAll I could do was stare. How did this change anything?\n\n\"The things is...I. Um. Well I still have a penis.\"\n\nThis changes things.\n", "\"Don't shoot!\" He calls out from behind the car. I had put a bullet through his windshield with my hunting rifle to let him know I meant business. It had been months since I'd seen a robber, but I was not going to lose another generator to carelessness.\n\n\"I'm going to come out now. I've left all of my weapons in the car, and I'm going to come out slowly.\" He slowly rises with his hands raised above his head. I put another bullet through the passenger window. He doesn't even flinch. He finishes standing up, and slowly walks over to me.\n\nI put another bullet in the ground. I was not getting robbed again. I could no longer see properly out of my left eye because of bandits. He still doesn't flinch. He just keeps walking towards me with his hands up until my gun is touching his forehead.\n\n\"If you're not going to trust me you might as well end this right now, because I think we're the last ones. I haven't seen another soul in two years. Even if they exist we're not going to find them.\" I consider doing it. I consider giving that trigger a squeeze. How do I know this guy isn't going to make himself the last man on earth when I go to bed?\n\nThen again, if he does, I think he will have suffered the worse fate. I lower my rifle, open the chamber, drop the mag, and flip the safety on.\n\n\"Good.\" He says. \"Because I've also got the world's last xbox in my car, and there are a whole lot of co-op games I've stockpiled.\"" ]	3
	[WP] You're standing in a queue at Starbucks when someone bumps into you. You turn and it's Emma Watson.	[ "I glanced back, then looked again. She really was gorgeous. I always had a thing for short-haired girls, and hers was practically a buzzcut, just a few locks at the back left longer. It set off her clear eyes and fine jawline. From the jawline my eye naturally travelled downwards, and the next thing I saw was a blue lanyard. I had one too - it came with my work ID badge. If I was lucky I should be able to read the name.\n\nEmma Watson? Surely it couldn't be. What would Emma Watson be doing working for a second-rate telecoms company? But then, she did look roughly right. Maybe, just maybe...\n\n\"What name?\" the barista asked.\n\n\"Emma.\"\n\nHe looked hard at her, then down to her badge. Her expression got colder as he stared. In the end she just put the money on the counter and sat down. I ordered my mocha and sat next to her.\n\n\"You must get tired of that, I should think. I'm Dan, by the way.\"\n\n\"You have no idea. I hate giving my name in here. The worst of it is, if I say something else they assume I'm really her giving a false name. At least this way there's an element of doubt.\"\n\n\"Mm. If I were you I'd probably start playing with it. Call myself Nicki or Lucy. You could get a bit of amusement out of it.\" It didn't seem to amuse her much. Oh well...\n\n\"Hermione!\" the girl called. With a face like thunder, she went up to collect the cup.\n\n\"Well, we know what his mind was on!\" I said. She didn't seem amused - perhaps she could imagine the picture in his mind.\n\n\"There must be things you can do, aren't there? Change your looks, or something.\"\n\n\"I tried that. I got a pixie cut when she was Hermione. Then she got one too and I was no better off. That's why I have this. If she gets it shaved I'll have to buy a wig.\"\n\n\"You'll get your badge tangled up!\"\n\nShe looked down, and pulled it off in annoyance. I removed mine too, pulling my mullet out of the loop.\n\n\"No, seriously, it does get better. When she gets older people will at least stop leching at you. It is hard, I know.\"\n\n\"You know? You can't know what it's like. To be constantly called by the right name for the wrong reason, and never to be able to correct people... it drives you mad. I did think of a deed-poll, but I'm damned if I change my name because of people's stupidity.\"\n\nShe would have said more, but the counter-girl called across, \"Umm... Hawkeye?\" I went over, grinning at her. Over at our table Emma's mouth fell open as she read my name-badge.", "\"Omigod, Emma Watson! You're Emma Watson!\" I can hardly believe my eyes. My words slingshot out of my mouth like an excited school girl. My energy must have been contagious, because without missing a beat, she fires back. \"Yes! I am! 'Have been my whole life! Giggles She's even more beautiful in real life. Short, but not too short. Petite, but not too petite. Beautiful, but in that natural, girl next door way. A nervous pause interrupts my gazing.\n\nPre-programmed by those before me, I rip my phone from my pocket. \"Um, can I take a pic with you?\" Her eyes light up devilishly and she quickly glances around. \"No,\" she whispers. \"...but I think I'd follow you to your flat.\" At least that's what the barista told me she said, through his hysterical laughter. You see, I was never good at deciphering an English accent, and when she asked to see my flat -- I thought she said, 'No, because I think you're too FAT.\" I was embarrassed, and defensively shouted, \"WOW, OKAY. BYE THEN!\" And fled to the bathroom. When I returned, the barista interrogated me, asking why I just refused taking Emma Watson to my apartment. To this day, the smell of caramel macchiato makes me sick to my stomach.\n\n\n\n\n\n", "\"Oh, sorry,\" a pretty, pale hand raised itself in apology.\n\n\"Hey, it's no problem,\" I shrugged, and began a reassuring smil-\n\nOh shit. I know that face.\n\nIt's Emma Watson.\n\n\"Welp,\" I wave as she exits the coffee shop, \"Have a nice day!\"\n\nMan, wouldn't it have been creepy if I had started fanboying? I turn back and continue to wait." ]	3
Inspired by this film crit hulk article on Guardian's of the galaxy http://badassdigest.com/2014/08/12/film-crit-hulk-smash-guardians-of-the-galaxy-and-the-art-of-constructing-jo/	[WP] Tell a dramatic story through humour.	[ "Willy sat alone, sipping two cups of coffee simultaneously, burning his tongue and throat as each sip went down, the taste closer to potatoes than coffee. He stared at the empty booth across from him, filling it with all his invisible friends, and then realized he didn't have any invisible friends.\n\nWilly sighed.\n\nThe waitress walked up to him, smacking her lips together with every chew she took from her piece of gum. \"Hey–smack smack–how's the coffee there? Smack smack Need anything else?\"\n\nWilly looked up at her, tried to stare into her eyes, shuddered, then looked away. \"The coffee tastes like old potatoes.\" \n\n\"Old what?\"\n\n\"Potatoes. Old potatoes.\"\n\n\"How does coffee taste like–smack smack–old potatoes?\"\n\nWilly shrugged. \"I don't know. It just does.\" \n\n\"I had–smack smack–potatoes once. They were–\"\n\n\"Shut your moot,\" Willy interrupted, raising his left hand in the air as if to swat an annoying, rather large fly. \"Get me the check.\" \n\nThe waitress gasped, her face contorting into an incredulous rage. Willy guessed that was the first time some middle-aged man out of high school had ever told her to shut her goddamn moot. She opened her mouth to try and talk, but only managed to mouth a wordless reply, before stomping away, her footsteps in sync to her gum-chewing-fueled-rage. Smack. Stomp. Smack. Stomp.\n\nWhen she came back, she slammed the check on the table, and said, \"What's the hurry anyway bub?\"\n\n\"My name's Willy,\" he said, staring up into those beautiful blue eyes, like the depths of the deepest ocean. They were soulless eyes, more or less. \"I have to get to my mother's funeral. I'm already late.\" \n\nSmack. Smack. Smack. \"She dead or sumthin'?\"\n\nWilly could only stare at her. \"Something like that.\" He left her half of his gum as a tip. \n\nThe coffin was bigger than he'd expected–brown and unhealthily clean looking, Willy could make out all the craters and blackheads that his teenage years had left behind on his face. He looked around the funeral home, everything black on black. He looked down at himself, and only now realized it probably wasn' t the best idea to wear a grey and white business suit here. \n\nBefore he could get away, Uncle Leo was putting a meaty old man hand on Willy's shoulder, rocking him back and forth. Willy stood as rigid as a metal rod, smelling like an old rug that had had one too many shoes wiped off on it. \n\n\"Oh Junior. It's a tragedy. It really is,\" Uncle Leo, at that moment, burst into tears, using Willy's shoulder as a sobbing rag. Willy took a few steps away, not wanting to ruin the only suit he owned. \n\n\"Yeah. Sure is. And it's Willy, by the way.\"\n\nWhen Uncle Leo's crying fit was over, he again came as close to Willy as he could without actually molesting him. He put his hand on Willy's. Willy shuddered. \"How you holding up, Junior?\"\n\n\"How did she die again?\" Willy asked. He had almost read the obituary in the paper, but his coffee timer had gone off, and he had never quite gotten around to it after that. \n\n\"She, uh...well, I think she sort of just collapsed. Old age I suppose.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" was all Willy said.\n\n\"Yeah. They found a bunch of cocaine and well...uh...Jack Daniels in her system as well, but your mother was doing that for years, so I doubt that had anything to do with it.\"\n\nWilly shook his head. \"Of course it didn't.\"\n\nUncle Leo's hand soon moved away from Willy's, and was coasting, drifting away like a lost sailboat. Willy was frozen. He couldn't move, couldn't feel any part of his body. He let out a little squeak as he had when he was a kid. Uncle Leo's hand had, once again, found Willy's willy. \n\nWilly let out another squeak, finally feeling his legs again, and took off sprinting towards the food buffet. He had suddenly grown very hungry for some chicken. Uncle Leo, Willy thought, was also craving some cock. \n\nThe church was empty now. The sea of black was gone, the crying and the incense and the food and Uncle Leo's hand had disappeared. It was only Willy now, listening to the air whisp through the church. He wondered if it was the whisperings of God come before him, then realized God probably didn't have time for someone like Willy. \n\nHe was facing his mother's coffin, and decided to finally say his farewells, tell her how much he cared about her.\n\n\"I waited for you. At the diner we'd always meet at. I waited there. Forgot you were dead.\" Willy looked around the empty church, but no reply came. \n\n\"I fucking hate you,\" he said to his mother's coffin. He looked around, wincing, expecting something to come crashing down on his head or lash him in the back for what he'd said, but nothing came. Willy smiled. \"I FUCKING HATE YOU!\" His echoes rang across the church, and Willy knew those were the words of God.\n\n\"I hate you and your fucking drugs and booze! I fucking hate how you let Uncle Leo babysit even after...after...\" Willy stopped to wipe the tears from his face. \"I FUCKING HATE YOUR HUSBAND! I FUCKING HATE YOUR SECOND HUSBAND! I FUCKING HATE YOUR FAT, UGLY, BITCH FACE! AND I'M BETTER OFF WITHOUT YOU, MOM! I! HATE! YOU!\" \n\nHe collapsed onto the floor then, unable to keep himself upright as the shudders and the memories hit him like a tidal wave. \n\n\"Son,\" a voice said.\n\nWilly jumped up, turning towards the voice. It was his mother. His mother had heard him and had come back from the grave and now he would have to face–\n\n\"Oh, hello Father Al,\" Willy said, staring directly into the terrified face of the priest. \n\nThere was silence for a few minutes, and all the priest did was stare, dumbfounded, at Willy. He guessed Father Al hadn't heard so many horrible things before in his entire life. \n\nWilly scratched his head, looked down at the floor. \"How much of that did you hear?\"\n\nFather Al cleared his throat. \"Enough of it.\"\n\n\"Oh.\"\n\n\"But that isn't your mother's coffin,\" Father Al said. \n\nWilly looked up at him, back at the coffin, back at the priest, then down at his shoes. \"Fuck,\" he said, then blushed. \"Oh shit–I mean...uh, sorry.\"\n\n\"They had, uhm, taken your mother's a few hours ago. That's Mrs. Rubarb. She was head of the local charity organization. Great lady. Nobody ever shouted at her. Except you of course.\"\n\nWilly looked up at the priest. \"Aren't you supposed to make me feel, like, better about myself?\"\n\nFather Al shrugged. \"Not really. You're gonna have to do that on your own. The question is, what will you do now?\"\n\nWilly stared at Mrs. Rubarb's coffin, then at the exit. He smiled, and walked past the pews, past the priest, and out of the doors. He was going to do something great, going to get his life on track and maybe work out and maybe write that play he had always wanted to. Yes, he was a new man with new dreams and new ambitions. \n\nHe decided he'd wait til the end of the week to do all that, at the latest. For now, Willy simply went home, and watched TV. \n ", "Chapter 1. Tell a dramatic story through humour.\n\nA light. One more. A handful more. A hundred more vibrating white lights cascading down a celestial waterfall lost one to join another above the multitude zaps below. \n\n“Do you think Wisps are stars?”\n\nThe other Wisp flew an arc into the direction of the deepest part of space, and said, “We're more like spaceships, flying around.” Its sparkling dust levitated and followed around it. The landslide of white lights washed into another spacetime curve, a sideways blasting into and out of visibility. These two followed behind, pushing into the quantum wormhole they navigated.\n\n\"Hey look, it's Jebus. Guardian of the Galaxy. King of Kings. Ya know, the savior? The messiah? God?\" a Wisp said.\nCrack! A bolt of lightning touched corners through the room. This room happened to be a manger. A baby lay in the center of the hay. He was totally silent in the night.\n\nA candlelight threatened to dim the Wisps who had materialized on the bolt of lightning into the hay-filled compartment. “It doeasn't look like Jebus.”\n\n“That can't be God. Hey, where is God, anyway?” a third Wisp chimed.\n\nOn Planet Sprok©, everything is a Wisp. Televisions are Wisps. That's a good thing, because television and spirits do NOT mix. The ground is Wisps; when there is ground, which there isn't most of the time. Wisps float. They prefer sliding. Also, televisions are reality to Wisps. \n\n\"God transitioned to the netherworld. He's on Earth, now. I heard he's in a manger, somewhere. Probably not even crying about it.\"\n\nThe Wisps rotated. One look looked at another. \"Where and when are we?\" the Wisps asked.\n\n“Oh my God.”\n \n“That's God.”\n\n\"We're witnessing the birth of Jebus!”\n\nThe Wisps were “watching” the solar system through their “televisions” on Planet Sprok©. On Planet Sprok©, however, televisions WERE Wisps. They were connected to the production, filming, cast and crew of the movie of the real birth of Jebus at that very moment. You can see why Earth wouldn't need Wisp television technology for at least another two thousand years. But you might not understand how you're so fortunate that in the meantime, you're invited to watch Planet Sprok©: the only Wisp television show in the solar system WITHOUT God. Broadcasting from the Dark Tavern on Planet Sprok©. Just don't get sucked into a Wisp television.\n\n[Planet Sprok©](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2pwskp/wp_humans_are_originally_from_mars_but_after/cn106f7)\n\n", "Welcome boys and girls, I have another exciting story for you today, what do you mean you don't know me? I am Navilus Nilok, teller of tales and chronicler of all things, of course you have heard of me... erm, anyway, I have a bit of a funny story for you today. I saw this happen one day, not that long ago, and it has already garnered some interest among the other scholars. Except Liam. Liam hates everything. ...anyway on to the story.\n\nIt was a day quite like this, but with some light, you know being day and all. He had just set out from his village, looking to strike a fortune into the world, or would that be strike a fortune in the world? Whatever, I still need to do some editing. Anyway, it starts out as your typical evil threatens world, boy fights evil, boy becomes woman, boy meets girl, all of that good stuff. Well, except for the boy meets girl bit, that already happened.\n\nHe sets out, blue eyes glinting in the noon sun, cloak trailing behind him as majestically as a rhinoceros dancing ballet, they're surprisingly good at that, going out to meet his destiny. It was so nice to find someone who would actually meet fate head on instead of spending forever whining about it. \"But I don't want to save the world!\" Shut up, yes you do. Everyone wants to be a hero, except for heroes.\n\nHis horse had an amber color to it, like the sun had set fire to a block of sap, a majestic steed. His sword shone with a thousand blazing fires, putting to shame even the most experienced of knights. It almost seemed to defile the sword when he had to spit the first few goblins on it, but that is just the way of an adventurer.\n\nOne of Retghual's evil knights was blocking the path to his castle, a vile man whose blackness of heart was matched only by that of his master, or an angsty, depressed teenager. He knew it was no easy task to stop evil from overcoming the land, but he also knew that it was only him that could do it. He had been ordained, and now the world shall once more know the sweet touch of the light. Righteous of heart he struck down the evil man, and cleared the path for people to know happiness again. Now why had he been chosen for this? It was because he was the only one who knew happiness at the time, having already met the love of his life back in the village.\n\nSoon enough he came to Retghual's castle, an ominous place from which decrees banning merrymaking and laughter and other, ahem, acts. That last was much more recent. That had to be bred out. Literally. So, he charged down the bridge, broke through the portcullis, killed the garrison, killed the castle guards, ignored the servants, found a really nice painting of some water lilies, and attacked the dark lord himself. Being no match for hero Retghual fled at great speed, and he naturally chased. At the end of his horse's great run, he managed to catch up to Retghual, right back where he had started.\n\nHis only love lay dead at Reghual's feet, with a cry of rage he launched forward and killed the dark one, freeing the land, forget about the fact that there are still evil armies around. Now why had this happened? It was because to restore happiness to many, the greatest happiness had to be sacrificed, true love. His was even greater than that between Buttercup and Wesley, it was the purest and greatest happiness that the world had ever seen.\n\nWell that's the story, although I suppose that it wasn't all that funny now that I think about it. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. What do you mean what happened to our hero? Well... he died. Killed himself really. Nasty business that. Good last words though. Fine, fine, I'll tell them to you.\n\nYou said that we would be together always and forever, and I said that I would love you for forever and a day. But now the sun is setting and the day over, but forever's only just begun.\n\nTouching, ain't it?", "A young woman, maybe in her mid-twenties with light brown hair and a sparkle in her blue eyes chuckled. \"Well, you know what Granny always said...\" She changed her voice to that of an old woman, \"'The Lord might come at any time, so your best bet is to eat dessert first. It would be a shame to miss out because of events you cannot help!'\"\n\nShe laughed loudly to herself before five sets of dull eyes settled on her. The glances alone spoke volumes. She was not wanted.\n\n\"Remember that one time she walked up to you, Steven...\" The girl placed her hand on a stout young man's back. He shrugged her off with a grunt, but the girl continued anyway, \"She walked up to you, touched your clothes and said, 'Is this felt?' We all thought she had lost it, but after you squinted your eyes and said, 'no,' she said, 'Well, it is now!'\" \n\nThe girl's laugher felt like a single blooming rose amongst a room of thorns. \n\n\"'It is now!' Classic!\" \n\nShe sighed. \n\n\"Then there was the time...\" The girl was audibly shaken. She knew she was not welcome. She knew she was only there out of their obligations to the rest of the family. \"There was the time she and Granpa...\"\n\nAn older gentleman, with grey hair and a grizzled beard, slowly walked towards her from the crowd and stopped an arms-length away. He gave her a steady look and then slapped her in the face. She fell to the ground from the force of the swing and shock. \n\n\"Leave.\" He said.\n\nShe scuttled to her knees, glancing back and forth to the others in the room. \"Before I go... I think...\"\n\nThe man crouched down and looked her in the eyes. She could feel his warm breath seething. \"Leave,\" He said again. \n\n\"Yes Grampa.\" She hurried to her feet and rushed out of the room, closing the door behind her and sliding to the ground in front of it. \n\nGranny was dead, and it was all her fault.", "\"Friends. Family. Incestuous cousins. Rarely, do we find occasion for such festivities. The beer is chilled. The champagne effervescent. The company . . . adequate.\" Richard called out from the top of the stairs, hoisting his glass of champagne.\n\n\"Richard.\" His mother hissed from the crowd, bustling up the stairs.\n\n\"Please, mother. Dick. Call me Dick. Tonight, I'm not a Richard or a junior. Tonight,\" a sneer lifted his lip, but was quickly replaced with a smile, \"I'm just a plain old ordinary Dick. I'm sure the family and our friends are fine with this. Am I right?\" One of his younger cousins sitting at the back of the room laughed briefly. \"Kate?\" Richard called, sweeping past his mother and shrugging off her clutching hands. \"Kate? What do you think? You like Dick don't you?\"\n\n\"I think you're drunk, Richard.\" She told him heatedly. \"Go sleep it off. You're embarrassing your mother.\"\n\n\"Mother? Is this true?\" Richard asked, turning to look up at her in mock surprise. \"Have I embarrassed you?\" She said not a word. A look of guilt mingled with her shame. \"Please. Forgive me.\" He turned back to the crowd, his smile gone. A solemn repentant look upon his face. \"Really, I'm sorry. I'm ruining your Christmas celebration. It's petty of me.\" He turned back to his mother. \"Mother? Forgive me? Please?\" He signed sadly, defeated.\n\n\"O-Of course.\" Her eyes went to the faces of those in the crowd. \"You're just a little . . . drunk is all. We've all been there.\" She descended the steps gracefully, but her hand trembled as she reached for him.\n\n\"Away!\" He roared, eyes wide and face red. \"Don't,\" his breathing had quickened, \"ever touch me!\" She drew her hand away as if she feared he'd bite it. Several of the male party goers came forward in case they were needed to restrain him. \"Don't you ever touch me, you vile evil . . . cow. You have no right after what you did.\"\n\n\"What's he talking about, Katherine?\" Judge Holton asked. She shook her head and made as if to climb the stairs. Richard wasn't having it. He ran up the stairs and blocked her way. \"Tell them, mother? Tell them what you did.\"\n\n\"I didn't do it on purpose. I-I was being his mother.\" She snapped, but her fire died quickly. \"I didn't know about the other times.\" She said. \"I didn't know.\"\n\n\"What didn't you know?\" The judge asked.\n\n\"You won't tell?\" Richard asked of his mother. \"Why don't I?\"\n\n\"My mother--your queen of the scene and patron saint of self-indulgence found my brother smoking weed. Shocking? I know. An 20 year slacker smoking a joint. How did she handle it? Mother?\" She said nothing and turned her head away. \"You would say a lecture? Maybe cut him off financially? Hell, she's a self-righteous cunt.\"\n\n\"Richard!\" Kate called out in protest.\n\n\"Dick!\" He cried back, making Kate flinch at his ferocity. \"I'm Dick tonight. Remember?\" He turned back to the judge. You know she isn't above evicting him. I mean, he relies on her for everything: Food, shelter, tuition. She had virtually unlimited leverage on him to force his obedience, but how do you think she reacted?\" Richard looked at the faces in the crowd. Only Kate knew what this was about.\n\n\"Richard--Dick,\" Kate called pleadingly, \"not like this. Not here. Not now.\" His face softened but for a moment, then darkened once more.\n\n\"I had him arrested.\" Katherine declared to the crowd. \"That's what my son is leading up to. I had him arrested to teach him a lesson. Drugs are bad and I wasn't going to let my son go down a bad road. I'd caught him doing drugs as a teen and I was worried he'd come to no good if he continued along this path. I had him arrested. You can hate me if you want to, Richard, but it was for his own good.\"\n\n\"For his own good?\" Richard repeated quietly. \"For his own good.\" He smiled. \"This is the problem with the self-righteous, mother. They're always hiding behind one of those shields. For his own good. When you found out Katherine had been cheating on me, you didn't say a word. For my own good, right? When she got pregnant, you knew it wasn't mine, but let me think it was. For my own good again, right? Because, you were an attorney and her father was a judge. It was good business, but for my own good, again. But, Katherine left me anyway, and I had to find out the hard way that my son wasn't my son.\" He smiled again. \"What was you told me? What was that sage advice you imparted? Oh right. You said, these things happen for a reason. Of course, it wasn't for my own good. That wasn't the reason, was it? No. These things happened to further your career. That was the reason.\"\n\n\"I-I didn't . . .\" His mother shook her head and Katherine kept her eyes on the floor, ashamed and embarrassed.\n\n\"Don't do this to her.\" Kate pleaded. \"Don't let her find out like this. What I did to you was shitty. Her ignoring it was bad. But, what you're doing is going to kill her.\" Richard seemed to consider this and risked a look at his ex-wife. \"Please don't do this.\"\n\n\"You had Bobby arrested for possession, mother. Do you know why that was so much worse that what you did to me and Katherine? Do you? You ever hear of the three strike rule, mother?\" Richard ducked his head to force her to look him in the eyes. \"Yeah. You know what the three strike rule is. You're an attorney. You knew he'd been arrested before for dealing before. What you didn't know was that he'd been arrested a second time and never told you. He didn't tell you about that, though. So, when you had him arrested, that was the third strike. Third strike and you're in your in all day, mother. They gave him twenty-five years, mother. For misdemeanor possession, my brother was sentenced to twenty-five years.\" Richard turned to the crowd. \"Twenty-five years so she could pretend she was a good mother.\"\n\n\"I will appeal it.\" His mother interjected snidely. \"Yes. I made a mistake, but it's a mistake I can rectify.\"\n\n\"How?\" Richard asked calmly.\n\n\"Richard.\" Kate pleaded.\n\n\"I said I will appeal the decision.\" Katherine snapped. \"This is done.\" She declared, turning away.\n\n\"He hung himself, mom.\" Richard told her softly. He didn't need to shout to pummel her. That simple statement of fact was a very sharp knife and it slid easily between her ribs to reach her heart. His mother froze on the top step and didn't move. The crowd as one found their last breaths frozen on their lips.\n\n\"What?\" Katherine asked softly.\n\n\"Bobby hung himself, mother. About an hour ago.\" Richard replied just as soft. \n\n\"I didn't mean . . .\" She staggered a step and sank quickly to the floor. Her eyes filled with tears.\n\n\"That was cruel.\" His ex-wife accused venomously.\n\n\"It was supposed to be,\" Richard replied archly. \"After all, it was for her own good.\" Kate opened her mouth to respond, but her ex was already walking away.", "The slave looked up at the king, Marceus his name; he has the appearance of a person who constantly needs to sneeze, yet never does; always promising, never delivering.\n\n“More wine sire” he spluttered.\n\n“This isn’t how I imagined I would be killed, in my own castle, surrounded by all the Kings and Queens who pledged their loyalty to me” The High King told the young slave without breaking the false smile forced on to his face for all his guests. The guests return the gesture while strategically positioning themselves around the vast, yet packed hall. Music plays, subjects dance, royals gorge themselves. To the untrained eye it may look like St Luke’s old people’s home for the disabled, but it’s almost definitely a castle that just happens to have wheelchair access and a coffee machine. \n\n“Then why would you invite them here my lord?” Marceus replied.\n\n“Which one of them do you think it’ll be? Maybe Lord Garris?” The King proclaimed while waving to the short, but intimidating Lord across the hall.\n\n“Garris doesn’t fail; he’s past perfection, only fighting his past perfections”.\n \nGarris sits at his table slicing up his steak into perfect slices, never eating. One eye on the knife in his hand, the other on the King. This isn’t foreshadowing, Lord Garris is just crossed eyed.\n \n\"Is it safe for me- I mean us to be here sire?\" Marceus whispered, his hands trembling as he pours the King more wine.\n\n“Or maybe Lady Visoff?\"\n\n“Your daughter?\"\n\n“I suppose not, stupid girl, the type to eat her cutlery with her food\nWith a steely glare the king reminisced about his few years with his daughter. She may be the foulest woman I have ever met; I remember looking after her, back when I lived in the village. I’d change her garments and my eyes would burn from the stench she dared to liberate from her posterior.\n\nI didn’t change those garments, those garments changed me.” He mumbled in his Batman-like tone.\n \nLady Visoff sits far away from the King, neglecting her food, which isn’t difficult for her since neglect runs in her family, but it is strange; for she is a mammoth of a mammal. \n\nThe King stares downs at the huge wedge of ham in front of him, bigger than his daughter before he abandoned her, which sounds like he left her when she was a teenager, but actually she was a really fat baby. Kinda like a baby whale, if it was obese and depressed. Did she get fat because she was depressed or was she depressed because she was fat? Which came first: the chicken or the egg? Both of which are probably things she’d eaten today.\n \n“I suppose I wouldn’t want to leave this world on an empty stomach. Fetch me that knife boy”\n\nThe knife, if you can call it that, was probably sharper than the weapon used to kill the boar, hell most men were not given such a sword on the battlefield.\n\nThe same knife was once used on the Marceus’s brother; he had dropped the knife on the king’s toes, the king stabbed him repeatedly so quickly it looked like he was bringing a horse to climax.\n\nMarceus gazed at the knife. He carefully clutched it feeling its weight, wondering if he had what it takes to relieve a horse.\n\n“You don’t want me to starve to death, do you?” the king bellowed.\n\nHe stared daggers into the king, slowly moving towards him. The knife felt heavier in his hands, too heavy; it clatters to the ground.\n\n“For god’s sakes bastard, how I have not been killed by your incompetence in the past is something only gods know.”\n\nMarceus snapped out of his trance, grabbed the sword and stumbled to the king.\n \nThe king snatched it out of his hands, waving it around with ease. The pig is about to thrust it into the ham when a giant, ugly brute of a man interrupts, and I mean giant. Like you know the saying faith can move mountains? This guy’s name was probably faith. \n\n“I hope you’re not planning on finishing that” he boomed. “This kingdom is tired of you” \n\nThe music stops.\n\nThe giant has a gun to the king’s head, one of those ones that are always used in westerns, which is peculiar because they won’t be invented for another few thousand years.\n\nPerhaps he was a time travelling giant, I don’t know. Point is he has one.\n\n“What is the purpose of this piece of plastic you hold?” the king whispered.\n\nThe giant man aims through a window and pulls the trigger.\n\n“This”\n\nThe bullet decapitates a nearby falcon.\n\n“Heavens”\n\nThe king jumps out of his seat and pulls the knife out of the boar.\nHe raises the knife to the giant man’s throat.\n\n“If I’m going to be killed, you’re coming with me”\n\nHe grabs a gourd of pepper and smashes it on the ground for emphasis.\n\nMarceus starts to sniffle.\n\nSeveral guards poise their swords at the giant.\n“You thought you could hurt me, in my own castle” the king gloats. “GUARDS, SEIZE HIM”\n\nThe king tosses the knife behind him, Marceus catches it, still trying to stifle his sneeze.\n\n“Let this be an example to all those who want to kill me, I WILL NOT DIE TONIGHT”\n\nMarceus can’t hold in his sneeze any longer.\n\nHe lets rip and the sheer force of this decade long charged sneeze surges him forward, stabbing the king through his back.\n\nThe king is dead.\n\nMarceus is the Ghandi of this century, sacrificing everything to give freedom to the whole kingdom. There will be films based on his life such as “MARCEUS: LONG SNEEZE TO FREEDOM”, starring Ian Mckellen as Marceus, a 12 year old black child.\n\nBut before anyone can react, a voice screeches and reverberates around the hall.\n \n“GODDAMN IT KYLE WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT SEVERING THE PENSIONERS”.\n\nIt is a young woman with an apron that says “St Luke’s Retirement Home”\n\nOkay this may be a home for the old and disabled-\n \nFuck.\n", "\"You look cute in a suit.\" My older brother says, wearily lifting his tubed hand from the bed to point toward my waistcoat \"But you forgot the buttons\".\n\nI look down and sheepishly unbutton myself, realising I must've looked like a child in his fathers suit on stage a few hours ago.\n\n\"To be honest I'm a little jealous of your robe.\" I joke, but I can't help thinking I'd play better if I had that level of scrotal freedom during a performance. \n\n\"Why thank you, that was a very kind thing to say.\"\n\n\"Then I take it back\". Reaching over him I take his half eaten pudding, and take a spoonful - insantly putting it back down with a screwed up face and wide eyes. \"That's just-\"\n\n\"Oh it's awful.\" He laughs, prompting a short coughing fit \"Prisoners have a better last meal than patients these days.\"\n\n\"Don't say that.\"\n\n\"Say what?\"\n\n\"The, the last meal... thing\".\n\nHe blinks at me.\n\n\"But I'm dying.\"\n\n\"Yeah but you don't-\"\n\n\"Im in a hospital bed, little brother.\" A smile starts to crack on his face \"I love the crotch space but I'm not in this gown by choice. That fucking thing is the last pudding I'll eat.\"\n\nHe starts giggling again.\n\n\"Look, we don't have to talk about...\"\n\n\"About what?\"\n\n\"You know.\"\n\n\"Oh, the dying?\"\n\nI shoot him a disapproving look but he only starts laughing more, only stopping to cough again. I fetch him some water and calm him down, he looks at me earnestly for the first time.\n\n\"You know what I'd love?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"I'd like to hear you play one more time.\"\n\n\"I don't have a piano, though.\"\n\n\"Mom bought me something, check the bag.\" He gestures toward the far side of his bed, helping himself to some more water as I walk around.\n\n\"No way...\" I reach inside and pull out a small cassio keyboard, barely larger than one of my thighs. \"I don't know what I can play on this.\"\n\n\"Do you remember what I first taught you, before you stole my hobby and became a musician?\"\n\nHe looks at me expectantly until it clicks.\n\n\"No, no I'm not playing that. Come on, really? Now? That song?\"\n\nHe coughs pathetically.\n\n\"But, I'm dying...\"\n \nWe look at each other for another few seconds, me slowly shaking my head and him trying to his hardest to look as sickly as possible. I cave.\n\n\"Fine. But I'm not singing it, I won't make it to the chorus.\" I find the on switch and play around with the keys, feeling my way around. \n\n\"Pussy\" He laughs again and painfully hoists himself up to sit up straight. \"Mind if I sing along though?\"\n\n\"Well to be honest-\"\n\n\"I mean I am dying.\" He beams at me again, satisfied as to how well he's annoying me. I reluctantly nod, and begin playing the intro.\n\n\"Of everything I can play, this fucking song. You dick.\" \n\nMy brother and I laugh as I awkwardly move my fingers across the tiny keys, drowning out the hospital ambience with Mad World by Gary Jules." ]	7
	[WP] A heist in the life of the PAYDAY gang.	[ "His surly countenance looked upon Dallas with disdain, much like the look of a father whose son was pulled up for pulling pranks.\n\n\"Do you know why you failed?\" asked the mysterious benefactor.\n\n\"We couldn't hit the timelock fast enough. By the time it had run down-\"\nhe began while sitting down and playing with an ECM jammer, \"just about every cop in DC was there, with their fingers on the triggers. We had to get out.\"\n\n\"What have you learnt for the next time?\n\n\"The timelock is disabled when the alarm is raised. You can't get the code from the server as the firewalls trip after unauthorized access. To find the right one, keep trying to open a network share, while one of you guys watches for erroring computers. Dunno how it works, but it does.\"\n\n\"With this knowledge in mind, do you think we can proceed?\"\n\n\"I wanna try again, till we get it right. I'm not leaving till we crack the Benevolent.\"\n\n\"But mindlessly attacking it will allow them to build resistance. This has to be your big play.\"\n\nHe switched off the ECM jammer. \"It's gonna be.\"\n\nThe next day\n\n\nIn the back of the escape van, Dallas had his left leg over a particularly active blueprint of the Benevolent's lower floor. In the corner - a slightly worrying drawing - Wolf must have snuck in at night and drawn a wolf urinating in the corner for some bizarre reason. \"Electronic countermeasure jammers are all well and good but we can save time if we find keycards.\"\n\n\"Where will we find em?\" asked Chains, loading bullets into his CAR mag.\n\n\"Bank managers, lying around, you know how these desk job types are.\"\n\n\"Wolf, when we get in, head for the crane. Faster you get that pig, faster you can give us back a damn gunhand. Watch for those snipers-\" Dallas began, but noticed his brother staring off into the distance, snapping his fingers at him \"-hey Hox! Pay attention! Here, and here. They'll be across the rooftops from you Wolf, and to the right of the front.\"" ]	1
	[WP] You are 80 years old and just finished writing your autobiography. What's on page 327?	[ "Chapter 28\n\nDisappointing mum. \n\n--\n\nThe conversation was great and awful. \n\n\nI told mom how I must be an old man at heart because at the age of 22 I couldn't stand drinking shots with friends. She laughed. \n\"I cannot wait for retirement\" I told her. I'm going to have a cottage with a man-cave all to myself. My family can take the rest of the house, but I want that man-cave.\n\"Well, when you're 80 and actually old I hope that man-cave serves you well\" she chuckled. \n\"Nah, I don't think I'd want to live that long. I think I'd much rather off myself by, like, 60 or 70, regardless of whether I was fit or dying.\"\n\n\nHer face went from gleeful to morose in a second. \"Don't ever say things like that. It's not funny.\"\n\"Oh c'mon ma, you know I'm just messing around.\"\nShe took her drink and left the room. I felt so guilty. I've never felt that guilty before. \nI really do miss her. We spent so much quality time together as mother and son. The woman who brought me up and made me the man I am today.\n\n\nI had to swallow that guilt because even as I placated her with empty words, even then, I wasn't sure I was actually joking around. \n\n\nI do hope I get to see her again. I have put this off for almost 20 years. \nThanks for reading about my fairly entertaining (or so I'd like to believe, anyway) life.\n\n\nGoodbye, friend. \n\n", "I woke up after the surgery, tubes and wires running everywhere. For a moment I thought I was one of those Borg creatures from Star Trek, tied up to the collective hivemind. But as my vision cleared and I remembered what had happened, I realized I was in the ICU at the hospital. \n\nI remembered feeling feverish, but dismissing it as just the flu. Afterall, I worked in retail and customer service, so there was naughty a bug I hadn't been exposed to. I tried to remember what led up to my stay here... Let's see. I was feverish, but popped some Tylenol and hauled my ass into work. I was at my desk, making sure the deposit made it into the bank and not some sticky-fingered fucker's pocket. There was a knock on the door and I spun around in my chair, perhaps a little too fast... That's the last thing I remember. \n\nI lifted my hand to the side of my face and winced. There must be a bruise there, because my whole cheek hurts like I got punched repeatedly by that asshole UPS driver who doesn't understand that FRAGILE on a box doesn't mean throw it out the back of the fucking truck. That's another name on my list, but that's a different chapter for later. \n\nI guess the movement triggered one of those alarms because a nurse came in. I tried to ask her what happened, but my mouth was dry and I'm sure my tongue was superglued to the hard palette. I reached over to the little rolley table and groped for something, mouthing \"water\" until the nurse handed me a cup of ice chips. Even as doped up and out of it as I was, I know I just glared at her when I looked in the cup. Bullshit ice chips. Must be covered under ICU 101. \n\nThe nurse left as I dumped the cup of ice chips on my face, managing to get some in my mouth. The cold chips felt great against my face, I guess I still had a fever. I worked the chips that landed in my mouth around, finally able to swallow something other than dust. I tried to sit up and immediately regretted that as my head began to pound hard enough to make my eyes cross. \n\nI lay there, for only a few moments, but it felt like hours, until someone else came in. Someone who walked like he had a rod up his ass. He moved to the side of my bed and opened the folder, glancing" ]	2
	[WP] You find a script book depicting every conversation you've ever had. You flip to today, but it's only half way through the book.	[ "I sigh as the lock to my front door sticks, as usual. It had been a really long week, and I was looking forward to sitting down with a drink and a good book. \n\n\"It's always something.\" I mutter under my breath while struggling with the lock. I finally make my way inside and was headed straight to the refrigerator in search of a beer when something on my coffee table caught my eye. It was a book, and a very large one at that. Finding books all over the apartment was nothing unusual, except I was certain I had never seen this one before. Since I live alone, that was more than a bit disconcerting.\n\nLooking around, nothing else seems out of place. I walk over to the table and look at the book, which has no title or wording of any kind on the cover. I open it up, and there is no publishing information, introduction, or author. The first page is labeled with a date, and consists of a conversation that is barely comprehensible. One person is speaking a very limited, dumbed down version of the English language while the other is speaking pure gibberish. \n\nConfused, I flip forward a few pages, finding more of the same. Then a phrase catches my eye that rings a bell, and I flip back to the first page. On a second reading, I realize that this is the first actual conversation I ever had with my mother. I continue reading and pretty quickly figure out that this is a complete log of every conversation in my entire life.\n\nI flip through the book, scanning for today's date. I find it, but it is not at the end of the book where I was expecting it to be. It is almost exactly in the middle, and I'm equal parts curious and nervous about what I will find if I turn to the next page.\n\nI do it, and there is nothing odd about the entry for tomorrow's date except for it being totally filled out like it already happened. I read the conversations from the next two or three days before forcing myself to put the book down. I don't know how deep this particular rabbit hole goes and I'm pretty terrified to get to the end of the book, which I'm assuming will be my last words. \n\nI decided to forgo the beer I had in mind when I came inside and go for the bottle of Knob Creek in the liquor cabinet instead. I don't even bother looking for a glass, and head for my couch. Just me, my bottle of whiskey, and my entire past, present and future. \n\nI take a long pull from the bottle, and as the liquid warms me from within I wonder for the first time if I have lost my damn mind. None of this makes any logical sense at all. No one can predict the future, and there is no possible way someone could have chronicled every conversation in my life. And yet here it all sits in the book in my lap. \n\nI wanted to call someone, but there was no way I could explain this without sounding crazy. I wasn't even sure if I believed it myself. If I'm not crazy, that's even worse because all of this is real. \n\nI drink more whiskey to try and slow down my racing thoughts. Maybe there are some clues as to what the hell is going on in the book. So I start from the beginning.\n\nI didn't really start connecting the conversations with tangible memories until I hit the age of four, and from there I went on a crazy ride through my past. \n\nMy life had always been full of peaks and valleys, and some of the memories were not fun ones. I considered skipping over some of those sections, but how many people get the chance to look back at everything without bias or cloudy recollection at best?\n\nI put the whiskey away for now. I've calmed down and I'm more interested than scared at this point. The years go by incredibly fast, and like real life they seemed to be passing by faster the older I was getting. This wasn't my perception however, every chapter of the book was actually getting shorter.\n\nIt finally hit me that for almost 10 years I had been talking to people less and less with each passing year. My number of friends had steadily fallen, pared down to only a few close friends in contrast with a lot of acquaintances. When I was living it I didn't realize how much I had withdrawn from people. It happened so gradually there was never a noticeable change. Reading it was different though.\n\nSo many times I wanted to be able to go back and say something else, anything else. Looking back and seeing the actual moments in time where I drifted apart from girlfriends and close friends I no longer knew was different than I remembered it. There weren't big fights or a great deal of animosity usually; I would just end up going my own way for one reason or another. Most of the reasons were not very good ones, to be honest.\n\nEventually I got to the point in the book where I am in life now, and I didn't want to read any further. My life isn't terrible by any means, but a few changes along the way could have made all the difference. While I'm not miserable, I'm a whole lot less happy than I used to be, and than I feel like I should be. I was just not aware of it slipping away from me until this little trip down memory lane.\n\nI'm terrified that if I keep reading it will only be an unpleasant look at a bleak future that ends with me alone and miserable. I decide to stop reading, but the prospects of knowing my future consume my thoughts. Maybe if I know what is going to happen I can change it for the better. Maybe there is still some clue further in the book as to its origin or who put it here. Maybe I will only make things worse though.\n\nFuck it.\n\nI turn the page. I have to know. \n ", "\n\n\nKevin scoffed at the thick white full-size envelope dwarfing the bundle of mail he pulled out of his mailbox this morning. He assumed it was another bank statement.\n \n\"Why such a profitable company sees it necessary to spend time and money sending me transaction statements for an account with a balance of $16.43 I'll never understand.\", Kevin remarked to no one in particular while lamenting having to toss this, envelope unbreached, into the recycling bin. \n\nNot for the waste nor for the environmental impact, which surely must be significant, but mostly for the fact that this type of letter was the only kind of correspondence he has received since the incident back in 2010. \n\nAs he turned the envelope over in his hands he quickly realized the contents were distinctly different from typical mail. The weight was much heavier than the average account statement and unevenly distributed. It contained something heavy and rigid and rectangular. \n\nSuddenly intrigued, he dropped the rest of the mail onto the ever growing pile next to the front door and ran his finger along the seam of the envelope to the satisfying sound of torn paper. A leather bound book slid out and onto the floor. The noise of the impact from the book hitting the floor was unexpectedly loud. Like the sound of a phonebook being slugged against a stack of bricks.\n\nKevin used to receive christmas cards, birthday cards, weddings invitations, and all kinds of letters from friends and family years ago. But this all stopped, quite abruptly, upon the death of his wife; the circumstances of which were best described as suspicious. The letters from from friends and family ceased as a clear statement that their support and presumption of innocence had ceased as well. The police had drawn out the case at great length, but ultimately had less than enough convincing evidence to really link Kevin to the crime. When the case was thrown out, Kevin returned to a life devoid of love and money. For the murder had taken away the former and the legal fees the latter. All Kevin was left with was his sadness, and a recurring memory of his wife's last few moments shared with Kevin and her killer. \n\n\"This has to be this way, it will be as it was written.\", the words loop through his mind so often that he doesn't even remember them as spoken word anymore, but as words burned into the back of his eyelids. The stoic ramblings of a deranged man. After the words were uttered and the cruel deed done, this strange man walked off into the night with unknown intent yet still a sense of purpose as if he was following some plan or moving along a track. \n\nAfter what must have been minutes of Kevin's mind racing through memories of the not so distant past, he snapped back to the current moment with a palpable jolt. He reached down near his feet to retrieve the dropped book and with one hand grasped the book and tried to straighten up at the waist to stand up again. A sudden tinge of back pain made him drop the book back to the floor. \n\nThe book must have weighed 60lbs to have required that much strength to lift it, thought Kevin. But how could this be when I carried it home quite easily from the mailbox? Sliding that thought onto the back burner of his mind, he reached for it again with both hands and carried it to the kitchen table.\n\nThe book landed open to a random page. On it was nothing but dialogue, but he recognized those words instantly; his wedding vows. \n\n\"... to have and to hold... to cherish and protect... forever and ever... until....\", Kevin shut the book unable to continue. \n\n\"What cruel joke is this?\" thought Kevin.\n\nHe opened the book again, this time not so far from the beginning. \n\n\"You are in control of your own path. You choose your destiny.\" Kevin thought these words were familiar as well. Upon a few moments of head scratching he recognized the words as spoken by his head coach of the football team from his highschool. \n\n\"How strange.\", Kevin thought to himself, as he randomly picked spots in the book to open to and consistently found conversations and idle chatter written on the page from a point in his life. \n\nOn the last attempt, at the top of the page, the words he knew all to well apeared in black and white in front of him, sending a chill through his entire body. \n\n\"This has to be this way, it will be as it was written.\"\n\nIn anger, Kevin tried to slam the back cover shut on the book, but fell short and the book fell open to one of the last few pages. Midway down the page he saw some haunting words.\n\n\"Why such a profitable company sees it necessary to...\"\n\nAs white as a ghost, Kevin flipped the last few pages, resting on the final page. Kevin gazed at the final paragraph.\n\n\"I've finally found you, you bastard.\"\n\n\"Kevin, it wasnt my fault. I didn't want to kill her. The book... the future. If i could just change this one thing i was going to be happy\"\n\n\"Enough!! Now, this must be done. It must happen as it was written. But truly, this is for my wife.\"\n\n<gunshot sound>\n\n\"And now, its over. Its time to be together.\"\n\n<a sound of a click, then a stifled build up of an explosion>", "\"You're a little preoccupied, aren't you?\"\n\nI look back at her, turning away from the window. I hold one hand to my temple, absently massaging my raging headache. I give her a little smile and I shrug.\n\n\"Just thinking,\" I mutter.\n\n\"Thinking, huh? What about? 'Bout a stooory?\" She teasingly lilted her voice into another octave. She knew I never liked to talk about a work before it was finished.\n\nEspecially when I had to take red ink to it, and change the lines.\n\n\"Nosy girl. You don't give up easily, do you?\" I wink at her.\n\n\"You could say I'm quite the devoted type, couldn't you?\"\n\nMy playful smile slowly falls. I nod gently, again looking out the window.\n\n\"You have no idea,\" I mutter under my breath.\n\nAs a writer I have a habit of planning for all possibilities, for any given situation. It's a neat little writer's trick. It keeps you loose, and it helps you to stay on script whenever any problems crop up in the story. A good writer should never be totally content, after all.\n\nAnd sometimes- every so often- you just gotta go off script.\n\nIt was an odd position to be in, having my script laid bare for me. Down in the dark of my family's old house I found it: a massive old book bound in tatted black leather. Inside, in delicate handwriting- a fountain pen, no less- was a story. Not just any story, either. It was my story, told in lines of dialogue: every single conversation I ever had, down to the most mundane detail.\n\nAnd not just that, either: every conversation I would ever have, beyond that.\n\nIt was a very, very large book. In my 33 years of life, it seems I'd only filled it up halfway.\n\nThere was a lot left to go.\n\nFact was, though, I'd already gone over all the rest. I found it a little... banal. I figured I could do better. For some, anyway.\n\nAnd so there I stood that day, ready with my red ink. 'Cause the fact is, sometimes you gotta go off script.\n\n\"I was thinking,\" I mutter, \"that I was wrong, last week...\"\n\nAt first she playfully smirks, but when she sees the seriousness in my face her beautiful brown eyes tremble:\n\n\"Wh- what? What do you mean? Not... you don't mean... 'wrong' about proposing-\"\n\n\"It's not you,\" I whisper. \"It's just, well, you're a great girl, but maybe it's better if we... well, if we went our separate ways.\"\n\nShe tries smirking again, still thinking it's a joke.\n\nIt's not.\n\nThere's the tears, and the denial, and then the anger. It was all over pretty fast, all things considered. That conversation was easier than I thought it would be.\n\nBut watching her run out my door, racing down the front porch crying buckets was the hardest thing I could imagine. My fists trembled as I stood there, resisting every impulse in my body to run after her and apologize.\n\nNo: this red ink needed to be put down.\n\nThis script needed to be changed.\n\nI sit down on my couch, vacant-eyed, and again I rub my temple, struggling with that terrible headache. It actually makes me smile, a bit.\n\n'Headache'.\n\nI would have many more conversations left in my life- if only because I'm a consummate coward- but none of them would involve her. That was fine, by me. And it was just, too. She wouldn't have to listen as the doctor explained how massive the tumor in her husband's head was, and what the surgery to remove it would entail. She wouldn't have to spend anxious years worrying about me dying from infection, and decades after that fussing and fawning over what was left of her 'dear husband'.\n\nI would have many conversations with her, after all. Most involved discussions about Sesame Street, and reruns of Mister Rogers Neighborhood. Very educational, really.\n\nBut also quite banal.\n\nI go back to the window and stare out it, hands folded behind my back, and again I smile softly.\n\nSometimes you gotta go off script, if not for the story's benefit, then for the characters'.\n\nFor the first time in a very long time I was no longer 'preoccupied'. \n\nI was totally content." ]	3
	[WP] You didn't mean to burn it down, it just kind of...happened. Tell your side of the story.	[ "WOOOHOOO!!! True story time!!!\n\nI live in Rochester NY, every springg we are plagued with what I believe is called dogwood cotton. Its the cottony stuff that comes form local trees and covers the ground everywhere, at some points even looking like snow.\n\nAny kid will tell you that if you find a good sized patch of it and touch it with a match or lighter flame the resulting flash fire is pretty awesome looking and short lived., kind of like what you get when you just light a rolling paper on fire and drop it. \n\nWell one day I came upon a church parking lot that was covered in the stuff from one end to the other. The largest uninterrupted patch of dogwood cotton I had ever seen, and teenage me could not resist. \n\nWhat I did not realize is that the fire gets hotter and larger as it goes, and when it goes for a really long distance it gets pretty fucking hot and large. When I realized the church was on fire I ran like I was covered in pork chops and being chased by pitbulls. I ran home, went to my room, grabbed a book, flipped to the middle (because obviously if I was halfway through the book I must have been in my room reading all day) and started pretending to be REALLY into it.\n\n\nHours passed. Nothing happened. There was a bit about it on the news, but SOMEHOW investigators did not suspect arson.\n\n\nNothing ever came of it. ", "I’ve always been a bit of a weirdo.\n\nAt least that’s what my mother tells me. Part of me thinks that’s just her go-to word when she has nothing better to say, and the other part thinks she is probably right. But I’d like to say I simply have an active imagination that makes me see things differently, and we all know how society views those who don’t share conformist bourgeois values. The thought of it, the thought of those disgusting manifestations of modern materialism my mother indulged in during my childhood, all gloss and plastic smiles and facades, brings bile to my throat. Fuzzy images encapsulating this grotesqueness often flash through my brain, sending shooting impulses through every nerve in my body. What could’ve possibly made things different? The pictures dissipate as quickly as they appear, slipping through the fingers of my consciousness to the bottom of the iceberg, to the black abyss that swallows my mind whole. This is the place where I’ve felt my entire being exposed, raw, unraveling, splintering apart from the crushing pressure of the darkness. But sometimes I can pull myself together. A quick stroke and the crackling orange embers and the dancing flames light up the void, filling every corner with that familiar warm yellow light that permeates my soul with a perverse pleasure. I am whole again.\n\nI try not to indulge in this too often; I try to have self-control. I realised early on that writing really helps. If I can just dissolve those taunting repulsive thoughts to liquid that flows from my pen, I feel somewhat emancipated. At least for a little while. I guess that’s why I became a writer. Some may just call that not having an occupation, but I write. I write to saturate all the places that lose color in my vision, to fill the mental chasms that widen every day. A few weeks ago I moved out and rented a small studio on the edge of the city. It's a quiet, unperturbed place where I can work among the comforting heaps of loose-leaf paper, books, journals, and notebooks strewn haphazardly about. It’s disorganised. But I’m surrounded by things I can call my own for the first time.\n\nMy place of solace, however, isn’t impenetrable. Ever since I’ve moved out I’ve been finding messages on my voice machine from my mother almost every day - seeing the blinking red light as I come home today fills me with dread and makes every hair on my body stand on end. I don’t know why I don't just ignore them, or delete them right away. Surely that would be much healthier for my psyche. But there’s something about that flashing LED square, the repetition of the blinking, that is almost magnetic and I can’t bear the thought of leaving it unattended. I press the button on the voice machine and that familiar, flat voice fills my ears. It’s my mother and her voice is especially thick, slurred. I’m not going to keep helping you pay your rent...told you..received some letters today...what’s this bill dated November the 12th…? saw the short story you wrote…trash journal last month…don’t know why you’re so convinced about this trash…wasting your time when you could be around more helping…like i’ve been telling you…your father would’ve...if he saw you now…fucking useless\n\nThe words penetrate my ears and I’m stricken. Her voice fades to a blur, masked by a loud buzz that jars my brain. Each syllable becomes a tiny shower of needles prickling my skin and my face goes numb. She’s drunk, and I should just delete the message. She’s drunk, and I should just silence the flat, bleating noises emanating from the black plastic box. Black like the crevasse that opens up and I’m falling, tumbling. Black like the crushing pressure in my head that chokes me, suffocates me. The light blinks repeatedly to the rhythm of her monotonous voice, filling my vision red, red with resentment, red with heat, feeling hot as I’m standing there seething and it’s been awhile…\n\nThe flames lap at the heap of papers on my desk and I stand there, in a trance, hypnotised by the way the orange and red and yellow make the white curl and turn brown and the colors are spreading and I’m feeling it melting the cold blackness away. My mind is enveloped in that warm glow and I’m starting to feel okay again, feeling okay at the orange and red and yellow that eat away the white colorless fruits of my labor and how much everything means nothing. I’m in a daze and I don’t even hear that the recording has stopped, don’t even hear the crackling, all I hear is my own uneven breathing and the hollowness being filled, don’t hear the phone ringing, don’t hear the loud knocking on the door and voices, panicked voices, don’t hear the high-pitched squeal of sirens getting louder and louder, all I hear is the own beating of my heart, my red heart pumping blood through my veins, red veins like the embers that shower around me.", "Carson always liked flames. He would joke Carson rhymes with arson. Carson believed his red hair gave him a mystical connection to the fires he played with. He always had a lighter on him, even though he didn’t smoke. It wasn’t just a piece of crap Bic lighter either; it was a silver Zippo with diamonds set in the shape of the constellation of Orion on a black lacquered oval. When asked about it, Carson would tell a different story each time about the lighter’s origins. My favorite one was that he had won it from a space alien doing skateboard tricks. To be honest, thinking about how clumsy Carson was, him skateboarding was more unbelievable than the space aliens.\n\nLast week I wanted to try something. I don’t know what I was thinking, but you know how it is. Once a teenager gets an idea in his head, either they will act on it or it will drive them insane. Or both could happen, which was my case. Look, how much trouble could I get into trying to mix dry creamer and black powder. I figure since they both burn so well separately, that the two together would be awesome. Imagine the number of hits I would get on my YouTube channel. I would be a rock star, at least for like four hours.\n\nSo I wanted to be safe, right? I decided to put the mixture of black powder and creamer into a rubber glove. I then pulled the glove down, tying it to a large stone. I had a sword I ordered from a catalog that I would swing at the string, cutting it from about four feet away. That seemed a pretty safe distance. Swinging the sword low would also keep me below the fireball. I was rather impressed with myself thinking of safety first. The glove would then snap upward, throwing the two powders into the air. I just needed an ignition source. Then I remembered Carson and his lighter. I gave him a quick call and poof he was there, just like a genie out of a lamp. \n\nI proudly showed Carson my setup. He was impressed, especially with the safety features I had built into the system. I showed him where I thought he would place the lit Zippo on an old crappy birdbath. I figured the flame would be gone in a flash and the lighter, being metal, would survive the flame. I mean, it has a flame coming out of it like all the time. What could a fleeting fireball do to it?\n\nCarson was all in, except for one small thing. Since he was risking his lighter, he wanted to be the one who slit the string with the sword. I told him never mind. I would get a different ignition source. He then pointed out that I could take a better video if I was holding the camera. He was right. That whole shaky cam thing is so cool, especially when dealing with fire. I agreed.\n\nI primed the glove and checked everything a second time. You can’t be too safe, right? Carson lit the Zippo and set it on the birdbath. I then handed Carson the sword and stepped back. I made sure that everything would be in frame and yelled action. \n\nCarson’s backswing of the sword was a thing of beauty. The swing forward had issues though. I forgot how clumsy Carson was until that moment, and by then it was too late. The sword pushed against the string at first, changing the angle of the glove, before finally shearing the strands. By then the glove was pointed more at Carson, who didn’t have to duck as much since he was shorter than me. The powders came flying out of the glove and ignited at the touch of the Zippo’s fiery kiss. The flames continued forward and upward, engulfing Carson’s surprised face for a moment before the swoosh announced the fireball’s demise.\n\nWhen my vision cleared, Carson had become a fire god. His eyebrows were missing and his face was bright red from the first degree burns. He screamed in pain. I put the camera down on the picnic table, grabbed my bucket of water that I had set nearby just in case, and threw it in Carson’s face.\n\nCarson breathed in a heavy amount of water and proceeded to gag and throw up on my sword. He didn’t seem to be on fire though, so I considered it a small victory. When Carson could speak he asked me if I got it. I told him yes, and he danced a little happy dance through the pain.\n\nI am now over three million hits on my YouTube channel and I split the ad revenue sixty five percent for me, 35 percent for him. I think it’s fair since it was my idea, and I had to clean his vomit from my sword. Oh, and we have gotten much closer since we had to do community service together, but that is another story.\n" ]	3
	[WP] Detail the thoughts of someone who knows the apocalypse is coming, but can't tell anyone about it.	[ "Blood was slowly dripping like tears from his beaten eye. His gut churned inside as it was getting punched again and again from the bladed rings on the hand of his prophetic killer. A sinister smile came from the victim as he looked up at his demise. \"Power is a fragile thing to hold on to, you better run before it eats you alive\". \n\nAnd as foretold, on the night of the murder, there would be the apocalypse.\n\nSwarms of hand-sized spiders crawled out from the burrows of broken buildings and the barren Earth onto every living soul. \n\nThe bite paralyzes the killers, and renders them to only their eyesight as they see smaller spiders crawling across their face and into their mouth, nose, and ears. The tears of blood that were once dripping from the eyes of the victim, were now shared by humanity as one. ", "We have built here a paradise. In our valley, protected by the glorious mountain, we can never fall. There are those outside who will assail our gates, there are those who will shout to the wind that we are evil, but we will stand, we must stand. \n\n-----------------------------------------------------\n\nWhat have I done? I was there when these creatures were born into this world, and yet I will be here when they come to their end\n\n-----------------------------------------------------\n\nThey have struck down our brothers in the mountains, crushed them underfoot, like insects. They were thrown them over cliffs like trash, scattering their flesh to rot on the rocks below. These creatures have left a path of destruction from the woods far to the west, where they planned their terror, all the way to our doorstep, where they shall not prevail. \n\n-----------------------------------------------------\n\nIn the beginning they were just helpless creatures, ignorant of their true nature, ignorant of the greatness within them. I watched as Melkor raised them up, taught them about themselves, helped them unleash their inner strength. And now here I am, lying to them one last time.\n\n-----------------------------------------------------\n\nOn the plains they slew our brothers, hunted them down like wild beasts. Our people were not even sentient creatures to them, just animals to be trampled underfoot. With suffering and pain, we have carved a home for ourselves in the only place we were allowed, these vast deserts, raked by fire, soaked with darkness. And yet that is too much for them. They come with their bows, and their axes, led by their terrible leader, intent on wiping us out in our home, our only home.\n\n-----------------------------------------------------\n\nThat damn wizard will be the death of so many. He sees the world through blinders, everything is either white or black. He is white, we are black…black to be painted over. But I cannot fight him, even with my army we cannot possibly win this battle. We are too few. And by Eru, they have awakened the ents. What I would give to have the ents slumber again, those wooden behemoths that forever stepped closer and closer to my land, always encroaching, like a green tide ready to drown us all.\n\n-----------------------------------------------------\n\nEven now they are outside our gate, asking us to answer. What sort of evil lurks at your front door, asking you to come face your death? We cannot allow this evil to exist in the world, this is our world. Their age has come and gone and yet they cling to the last vestiges of their greatness grasping at us, the survivors dragging us with them as they fade into history, a pockmark on the beautiful world Melkor has given us. \n\n-----------------------------------------------------\n\nHow can we stand against such arrogance, such hubris, such power? Men will rule this world someday, and the world will ache for a simpler time, simpler folk who brought order to the world of chaos. I have seen the evil that lies in the heart of every man, we cannot fight that evil, we cannot even hope to control it, not without my ring. Even with my ring, men have grown too powerful, who would of thought such a shortlived creature could have wrought the world with such strife.\n\n-----------------------------------------------------\n\nYour families, your lives, your world. Now let us walk to that gate together, shoulder to shoulder and face these invaders with the strength of many. Let us be the wall that stands between them and our families, let us be the wall that stands between the world and their tyranny.\n\n-----------------------------------------------------\n\nWe will all fall because of me, because I lost control of men when I lost my ring. Without that control, there is nothing to control the hatred and malevolence that germinates in every man’s heart the second his hand curls around the hilt of a sword. We will fail and it is my fault.\n", "You have to leave. You have to. Get up, you have to go and tell them.\n\nIt won't matter. it will end badly. Stay here. There is nothing that you can do anyway.\n\nThis particular line of thought had occupied my mind for the past four days. Other people would think it was simple, but they wouldn't consider the ramifications of all the actions. Even if I did tell people that the world was ending by horrible hell-fire in five days, no one would believe me. Wait, was it Wednesday? Three days then. Three days and everything would end. It really shouldn't be that surprising. We live in a Christian nation, and that religion alone was armed with the needed information to know that eventually it was all coming to an end, and even enough to know that is will be coming soon. If anyone, anyone at all, bothered to look and compare all the prophecies from various religions then it would be plain as day. Eventually the ultimate force of evil in the universe would really get a chance to flex their muscles and the world would get much much worse.\n\nFor all that, the ultimate force of evil in the universe is very polite. They knocked politely and asked to be allowed in before telling me in no uncertain terms that in one week they were going to get a crack at things and that it wouldn't take them twenty four hours to devolve man into animals once most of the security of civilization came crumbling down around them. They had an unnerving face, both male and female at the same time and eerily beautiful. The smooth tone almost masked the unbridled hatred for literally everything. Almost. There was a slight sneer when they said they were confident that men would do most of the killing for them and that I would likely be among the first to die. \n\nAt the beginning, the visit seemed impersonal, like the being in my living room didn't care for me personally and was just delivering bad news as though they were a doctor or accountant. When they mentioned my certain and likely violent demise there was no mistaking the tone. They took pleasure in my death. They knew me, knew my fears and likely much else about me, and could not be happier that all those complex dreams and fears would be snuffed out. By the time they left, it became clear that this feeling of joy at the end of life was the same for every single human on earth, and to a lesser extend the animals as well. After telling me in clear detail what was going to happen and how I could stop it and before they walked out of my door forever they nonchalantly snapped their fingers and every single electronic device in my house went black.\n\nAnd so here I am. It is daytime so my house isn't dark right now. I know that I need to tell someone, but it just doesn't end well when I leave my house. That is why I haven't done so in twelve years. Writing published academic papers and being paid to consult in my area of expertise can be done remotely. After all, I am still one of the foremost experts in anthropology and theology in the world. People are usually willing to work around my desire for solitude in order to benefit from my knowledge. The evil being was one of the first visitors I have had in months. I wasn't likely to get more soon, esspecially since I can't order groceries or anything else. Though, if I am going to leave the house I should probably head towards stonehenge rather than just get groceries. Though not much point in getting groceries, since the world is ending and all.\n\nI am going to leave. I know that I have to. I have even approached the door several times but every time my hand starts to shake and then I start to breath fast. By the time I have worked myself up to turning the knob I start to sweat and see spots. It never progresses far before I have to lie down, but if I could just stop being afraid I could do it. It wouldn't be a problem. I just need to feel a little better and I will get it this time. The breathing has already started as I approach the door and I hope that maybe this time I can get a few steps out before I have to lie down. If I get a few steps out it won't be so bad next time and maybe I'll be able to do it. If my hand doesn't shake so badly that I can't turn the knob. The knob turns though, almost as though I am not turning it. Then the door opens almost as though I am not pushing it. There is a man in the door. Great, I finally have company and I am going to pass out, I can feel it. I need to sit down. I should say something.\n\n“I'm sorry, I...” I start to say before a hand touches my shoulder. I feel a little better, just from the reassurance.\n\n“You poor man, look at how much pain you are in,” said a kind voice, “Let me come in and help you.”\n\nI really wasn't sure what to say, but the answer came naturally, “Yeah, sure. Come in,” I said.\n\nThe hand on my shoulder guided me to the couch where I sat. The headache was starting to pass.\n\n“Can I get you something to drink? Perhaps some tea would help,”\n\n“Oh, no,” I said, “Don't worry about it. I'll be okay,”\n\n“Nonsense,” the voice chided, “It will only take a moment,”\n\nI focused on breathing slowly as the man disappeared into my kitchen. He was right, it didn't take very long. When he came back my vision was clearer and my heart skipped a beat as he came fully into view. It was not the same man that had visited me before, but he had the same androgynous beauty. Really, I couldn't say for certainty that he was even a he. I stared wide eyed in front of me as he held out the tea.\n\n“Are you...” I stuttered, “Are you...” I couldn't even say it. It still sounded so amazing, even given what I had experienced today. I have always been a man of faith, firm that in the seeming confusion of religions there was a harmony if you would only look for it. I didn't just study cultures and religions for the intellectual challenge, but because everything I learned confirmed my faith. If someone asked me if there was a god, I would answer yes with as much certainty as the Pope. Still, the thought of looking at God, or even one of God's agents, was too fantastic to wrap my head around.\n\n“You should probably come to peace with the concept,” said the being who I was now convinced must be God, “It will save you some time, which is important since you could really use this tea and it would do no good for it to be cold.”\n\nAbsentmindedly I took the tea. I just held it as God sat down next to me, “Drink,” said the being, “Then we can talk.” I sipped the tea. It had cooled to just the perfect temperature.\n\n-\n\nMy first try here. I hope it is good and followed the rules.", "Everything was dark and very silent, but that was nothing new. I'd been born blind and deaf so I didn't know what it would be like to really see the colours and hear the sounds instead of those horrible dreams I had. But I had them and it was hard to process. I'd been having them every year on what turned out to be the same day for years; fragments of images and scenes that slowly grew to have the patches filled in, becoming clearer and clearer until this year. This year, I saw everything. \nAs a child, I had no idea what it was. I would wake up drenched it sweat, banging on the wall to my parents' room; wishing they would come and save me. As I grew up, I realised that I was seeing things and for a short period fooled myself into thinking that I wasn't actually blind and deaf. My eventual realisation left me in a deep depression until I saw more of the visions. \nWatching the buildings crumple and burn under the lava spewing from the great cracks from the earth where the ground had been torn apart as those it was tissue paper. The large dark monuments hanging from the sky; looming whilst the drones collected the valuable minerals from the earth.\nOne part of the vision, watches the aliens as they talk about our primitive planet and how nothing was worth saving. Somehow I knew I was listening in their language and not my own but everything made complete sense. Sometimes one would raise their irregular shaped head and their large eyes would pierce the air that I seemed be hanging in.\nThe last time I had the dream, one of them cocked their head and said maybe there was one thing that may be worth saving whilst staring right at me.\nThe Earth is coming to an end. I know how and when and I know that they are coming for me.", "A lot of people choose not to believe it, but when you die you meet your maker. It wasn’t god in the Christian sense but it was definitely someone in charge. The stuff about the white light? Totally true. You walk towards it and then you meet this person at the end. What a lot of people don’t know is that if you stay a while, you get to ask as many questions as you can think of. You can only do it when you first arrive and they allow for you to stay as long as you’d like. When I got there I asked the typical questions, “Am I dead?” “What about my family?” “Will I see my parents?”, but unfortunately, I can’t tell you what they said. But knowing what I know now, helped me grieve for myself and helped me move forward. \n\nWhere most people would be content, I was not, and started asking more elaborate questions. “Who shot Kennedy?”, “Was Caligula really that crazy?”, “Which religion is most right?” Those were just a few that popped into my head. They answered every one of them, but unfortunately, I can’t tell you what they said. I sat there for what would have been days asking question after question, trying to get a better grasp on the world I was leaving behind. After all of my questions about the past and present were answered, I branched out to the future. After finding out what the future holds for the people closest to my heart I wanted to know more about our society. I asked about a cure for cancer, I Asked about space exploration, I asked future technology. All were answered, but unfortunately, I can't tell you what they said. Then I asked about the future of the human race because I had already asked just about damn near everything else. What they told me shook me to my core. Unfortunately, I can't tell you what they said, but just think of the most terrible fate the humanity could encounter, and multiply it by ten. That’s where we are headed and it is happening much much sooner than you would expect. \n\nKnowing the fate of humanity can weigh on your soul pretty heavily. It certainly did for me. Especially considering everything was so easily preventable. I halfheartedly asked if there was a chance to stop it, and the answer that was provided gave me hope. I then asked if I could do something, and I was filled with even more hope. Then I asked if I could go back, and their answer thrilled me. There was a flash of light and I saw my broken body on the operating table with doctors hovering around me. As my body drew nearer my excitement grew exponentially. I reached my body and heard the EKG start beeping. I could hear the doctors talking. They said I was stable. I was going to live. After a few hours in the ICU My family entered the room and the doctor told them the news. I’m alive, but unresponsive. I saw my wife and son break down in tears as I tried to scream out to them to no avail. See, in my elation, I forgot to ask one question, probably the most important one. “Who can I tell about all of these things I now know?” \n\n\nUnfortunately, I can’t tell you what they said.\n\n\n---\n\n\nNever done one of these, hope you like it. I want to write more and decided to give this sub a shot. \n", "It's a terrible thing; to know you're going to die. I always thought I would be more accepting of it. Always telling myself it would happen one day, there was no reason be concerned by it. It was inevitable. Perhaps it isn't my own death that frightens me so. The sense of overwhelming dread that I find coursing through me like a hateful venom brings forth the images of my parents, my sweet wife, my daughter... Their torn and bloody faces are perhaps the worst of it. To say that I do not fear for my own life would be a lie, but no. I think it is the deaths of those I loved that eat away at me. I wish I could have warned them. I've known for weeks now. All the preparing and planning could not help me feel ready. I know I never would.\n\nThe worst is the form of my dead daughter. Her hand, tiny and fragile, managing to softly grip at her mother's. I wasn't sure who the blood's owner was, but the soft spatter of it as it trickled from their interlocked hands was sickening. That was the worst of it. Their deaths left me numb. My parents, always the symbol of what love is, were strewn across the couch. Even their cold, clouded eyes managed to gaze into one another's with love. The scene sent a twinge through the numbness. Bodies littered the house. Brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles. My family. They were all dead and broken. No part was untouched. The scent of their blood was overwhelming.\n\nIt's a terrible thing; to know you're going to die. The front sight of the gun irritated the roof of my mouth. I could see the reds and blues of flashing lights outside. It was time. I've known for weeks now. I wish I could have warned them all. I wish I could have stopped myself.\n\n\nFor anyone who reads this, this is my first attempt at writing in a while. I'd appreciate feedback." ]	6
	[WP] Bruce Wayne grew up in Air Strip 1, Oceania (1984).	[ "Bruce wakes up in a pale 4th floor flat.\nHe slumps out of bed, puts his legs through his overalls, and tucks in his blue button down shirt.\nLater at work, Bruce doses off at his typewriter but quickly wakes up.\n\n2 weeks after, some cops beat the shit out of him behind a garbage dumpster and then drag his body off and toss it into a furnace.\n\nAround the corner a proletariat women wearing a crumpled paper cat-ear hat sports a gangrenous smile with 50 percent of her teeth. The frail, inebriated figure asks passersby if theyd willingly trade beer for lecherous and thuroughly nasty entertainment.\n\nThe joker is still the joker though. There's a joker in this version of 1984. He's like, the one guy they couldn't reform or whatever.\n\nAlfred, Robin, Green Arrow, Dent, and Bane all get sent to north Africa and are individually blown up in a moderatley sized seige of a morrocan fishing town. \n\nGordon is a member of the inner party. \nFuck it, he's just O'Brian's character. \n\nSuperman singlehandedly goes to war with the three supernations, the results of which leave 95% of the world population dead. Most agree it was a change for the better. \n\nThose that were there to see it said it was pretty kickass. ", "For some reason or other, Bruce didn't feel normal. Not compared to everyone around him, at least. Perhaps it was the way he saw the world, but everything else seemed wrong. Which is why he decided to make the world in his mind possible. He donned his suit, attached the cape, and worked to fight the tyranny of the Big Brother he never wanted." ]	2
	[WP] People cannot die until they have their first kid.	[ "Flash to later that night in the oval office\n\n\"This years numbers are in, and they aren't good \"\n\n\"Give it to me straight Frank.\"\n\n\"Birth rates down another 18 % since last year. The number crunchers down stairs say we have another 2 years tops before we reach unsustainable levels.\"\n\n\"That soon? What happen with the new incentive programs? They were suppose to buy us a 10 % bump \"easy\". \"\n\n\"They say that if we'd started 10 years ago, they might of made a difference but now its just to late. The old out number the young and with they're continual deteriorating health we just can't keep up anymore.\"\n\n\"Who else knows about this? \nI don't want a repeat of Spain.\"\n\n\"Only us and the head of Census Bureau.\"\n\n\"Keep it that way. Destroy the data, all of it. Leave no traces of the truth..... Its time to began project Mercury \"\n\n\"Are you sure about this Sir???\nThere will be no turning back and once the public finds out ....\"\n\n\" I'm sorry to say we have no choice...\"", "\"So when are you getting your tubes tied?\"\n\n\"As soon as I pay off my student loans. Don't want to risk being viable any longer than that.\"\n\n\"That's a good idea if you want to Stay. Non-permanent birth control's just not reliable enough. My aunt and uncle were planning to Stay, then they had my cousin by accident. The whole family was devastated.\"\n\n\"Yeah, it's tough when family members go. Makes me wonder how our parents made that decision, you know?\"\n\n\"I guess sometimes it's worth it.\"\n\n\"Maybe. But I don't wanna have kids, even for that crazy subsidy.\"\n\n\"That's not what I meant.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I know. Anyway, I'm getting tied as soon as I can afford it.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"" ]	2
[This tombstone inspired the six-word story.](http://m.imgur.com/lXzxYrL) Someone suggested that I post it here, which I though was a good idea.	[WP]. Tombstone: Wife died 1922; husband ________ (X-post from /r/sixwordstories)	[ "I watched her through each year, watching her age. Her hair had quickly turned gray, wrinkles formed around her eyes first. Then her forehead, and her cheeks and the rest of her body. With each year went more and more strength, by the age of 62, she was frail and it seemed as if her entire being could go away with the wind like smoke. But while she became decrepit I remained the same. Fifteen years after we married we told people I was her son. Of course this didn't change anything; the sex was still amazing, we were still in love. Twenty five years in, Lilly turned away from me. She became self conscious of her body, she was no longer the way she looked before. We barely spoke for long periods of time. Did that change the way I felt about her? Not at all. \nHowever, at age 60, our sex life disappeared completely. Lillian needed assistance everywhere and her body was too weak for amorous activity. Of course by this time, we told people I was her grandson. \nAt 64, she died. Childless and almost alone, where it not for me. But because of me, she could not have children or keep in contact with family. I was barren, a side effect of my curse and contact for too long was impossible because they would notice that I wasn't aging. So we moved many many times. Poor Lilly. Poor, poor baby girl. \nHere I sit, it's been nearly 100 years since she died and I remain the same, alive and well wishing I could have died with her. But here I must stay till the end of time.", "Lillian died suddenly, unexpectedly, and tragically on her 40th wedding anniversary in the summer of 1922. Although she was 64 years old, she had seemingly been in perfect health -- full of contagious energy, joy, innocence, and life. Her large family and her large circle of local Oakland fiends were devastated by her passing, especially since her death's cause was so mysteriously inconclusive. \n\nEdward, Lillian's loving husband of 40 years, seemed completely inconsolable. He had found his wife's lifeless body in their bed upon returning home from his job-shift as a San Francisco Bay ferryboat pilot. He had had with him a special 40th anniversary gift for which he had secretly saved from his modest wages during the past several months. She, fully dressed and ready for their planned evening anniversary celebration, had died clutching a special hand-made gift that she had spent the past several weeks making for him. \n\nAs her wooden casket was carefully dropped into her grave, Edward found himself staring intently at Lillian's tombstone through his water-logged and reddened eyes. He couldn't process that she had died first. Unlike those of his youthful, energetic, and seemingly healthy wife, Edward's 64 years had taken a harsh toll on his physical, mental, and emotional health. Nobody could've ever imagined that she would die first. But there she was -- going into the ground for her eternal rest -- while Edward could only stare helplessly at her tombstone. \n\nHis only consolation was that he was certain that he himself would die soon. This gave him his only glimmer of optimism and happiness since he found her three days ago -- his own death as an imminent and total relief from this unspeakable pain. He fantasized about accelerating his relief by taking his own life that very evening after the funeral. But he knew that he couldn't leave his and Lillian's five surviving adult children and 10 surviving grandchildren with the burden and guilt of so badly failing to help him ease his pain. \n\nSo, for now, all he could do was stare at her tombstone -- Lillian G. March 14, 1858 - June 12, 1922 and Edward V. June 9, 1858 - __________ -- while knowing that it would soon be their common tombstone and that his own death date would very soon be engraved just above her name, \"Lillian G.\"\n\nNext chapter pending .....\n", "Ahh, 1922. A terrible year for me and her. I had discovered that I had a undiscovered disease. I now know that disease granted me eternal life. For her, it was something different. A trip to New York City turned fatal. It was terrible for me, I grieved forever. Well it seemed forever, but I lied. I grieved for about a day. I knew someone else would fall my way, I looked (and thought) like a 22 year old, so much so that many people thought i was something like her nephew. Then came the year of 1988, where I was diagnosed with the genetic mutation called Hattctosis, named after me. Now it's almost 2015, and I sit here with this gun right in front of me. I've had enough. Let's see if guns can kill a mutant." ]	3
	[WP] A world where everyone's health/ energy comes depends on how charged their cellphone batteries are.	[ "\"Sir...? Hey you!\", the barrista said, a bit louder. I look up from my watch, which was showing just a little under an amp left on my phone. Like most Cha-Starbuck's employees, she was a model of sassy alertness. Induction chargers, flat frosted glass panels tinged with aquamarine lights lined all of the counter tops, and her Samsung Freedom++ belt continuously self-charged on her movements when it couldn't get a clear line of sight. All the tables were accounted for in this small cafe, each table with the latest Tesla-Apple, Ali-Google charging and disposable energy shot units, right next to the oxidation enhancers and protein supplements. \n\n\"Oh, I... I would like the daily double. House coffee and the lithpoly special for my iPlusPlus, please.\", I said, fighting my voice past the early morning raspiness. She smiles, and makes a few motions on the aeron-harmon polywood table, the UI invisible from my perspective.\n\nShe was relatively mod free-- a rarity in San Francisco, 2034. Cute though. Her eyes were lasered with a multicolored Apple-- retro-vintage logo signage appealing enough for most people, not so fashion forward as to be a 404. Employees here all had to have high engagement and influencer ratings-- their CloutMarks were compared daily via algorithms written by former hedge fund quants-- back when hedge funds were still possible. Everyone wanted to work at the Cha.\n\n\"Size?\" \n\n\"Grande, extra boost on the lithpoly. Err... Grande is still 150 grams of PurCasein right?\". She nods and her eyes flickers to my Xiaomi charge harnesses around my biceps. I had put in a lot of extra time at the gym this year, generating kilowatts of power on the Vitruvian machines. My ATP counter and mitochondrian efficiency were at my personal best in 3 years, my FitBit Guardian disclosed to me on my truRetina display as I blinked. blood sugar levels sub-optimal--. ++Protein ++Glucose level to avoid atrophy, it warned. My muscles were churning through calories at an accelerated pace, keeping my main batteries, my back-up implantable batteries, and my external charge units fully powered, and if I didn't do anything about it, my modified Xiaomi unit could conceivably put me into a coma as it drained any energy it could from my body.\n\n\"Sure, name? And that'll be 500 mA's extra charge in that booster.\" She says mA like \"ma\", which is a bit too cutesy for me.\n\n\"Thomas, and I'll have it for here, not to go\". It's a small life \"hack\" everyone knows about, corporate sponsored, like the secret menu at Virgin galactic terminals, but I feel better because then the machines don't waste time wrapping my battery booster in faux paper or wasting the laser engraver on rastorizing my name on it in a fairly good approximation of a permanent black marker (so my parents told me). She already was writing the name even before I said anything, my identity disclosed by the virtual loyalty \"card\" embedded into my phone, but old corporate policies die hard. She scrawls my name on the tablet in front of her, and with a soft woosh, a panel opens up in the table. A small platform with my coffee, with chunks of glucose enhanced boba balls still swirling rises up, and the fully over-clocked battery ready for cold-starting my motion belt. I hurriedly grab both, my right hand deftly spinning the battery on my palm. I flick the battery softly with my thumb, causing it to turn right side up where within moments, it's on my belt, and causing my Chi levels to rise.\n\n92,93,94,99.9, 100% floats the text in my peripheral vision. My Guardian implants the suggestion of the all too familiar musical chime, causing me to imagine but not actually hear the melodious musical intonation, which according to my parents, was the sound of one of the first computers Tesla used to make, or Apple used to make, I'm not too clear on that.\n\nI smiled at the girl behind the counter, taking a moment to read her name card, and very glad it was a common, not-so-difficult to pronounce name. \"Thanks Siri!\"\n\n\"Welcome! For here huh?\", she said, as I walked away.\n\n\"Ha! Yeah. Thanks again Siri.\" Old joke, but my mood was a lot better, and I feel brave enough to wink at her as I venture into the warm and dry San Francisco weather, with clear skies.\n", "The rich were the first to go. Greed and consumerism were their downfall. Led on by Jobs, the deceiver, and the Android horde that followed. They were sold the future. Knowledge at their fingertips, a level of connection never seen before. Most perished after the first night. The few who strived on were gone before sun-up.\n\nWhole nations fell during the initial week. Communities went silent. The more energy we invested in reaching out to them, the more of us fell. It didn't take long to piece things together. When your phone goes, so do you. We suffered rolling blackouts and catastrophe for the first month. Society dissipated. Looting and murder became rife. If you could kill a man for his battery, you bought an extra few days.\n\nA handful of resilient Nokia users established a network of vaults, I heard. If you join their community, you find employment. 14 hour days in their power plants, splitting atoms and hanging on. Your phone joins a bank of devices, on charge 24-7. You'll be alive. But what kind of life is that?\n\nI haven't seen another human this year. I made it out of the city, out of the rampage. To clean air and green fields. The sun on my back and an empty canvas ahead.\n\nI turned my phone off.", "I rolled over and unplugged my phone from the charging station beside my bed. I glanced at the battery status. Full charge. I hardly needed to look at it, anyway. I could feel the energy surging through me, filling my entire body with a pleasant tingling sensation. It was like a drug, having your phone on full charge.\n\nThen again, it would, if your health was dependent on your phone's charge.\n\nI wasn't sure how it worked. Nobody was. All I knew was that ever since the Surge, everyone had to keep their phones charged to stay healthy and energetic. It was weird, but you couldn't exactly ignore it. If you did, you'd essentially be dead once your phone's battery ran out. It could be recharged, of course, but it was like using a defibrillator on someone; you couldn't be sure they'd wake up.\n\nPeople had accepted it, adapted it into their daily lives. Charging your phone was as much a necessity as food or water. There were now cafés where you could pay to get your phone charged instead of drinking coffee, since doing one had pretty much the same effect as the other. After half an hour of charging, you felt like you had just drunk an expresso.\n\nAfter a full night of charging, as I had just done, the effects were amazing. I felt like I could run a marathon and still feel ready for school, which I probably could. I had eaten breakfast and was out the door before I knew it.\n\nOh, what the hell, I thought, and sprinted all the way to school, my bag bouncing on my back. My phone's charge would only remain in the sweet spot between 97% and 100% for about half an hour, so I had to make the most of it.\n\nI arrived at school feeling pleasantly warmed up and not at all tired. This phone thing wasn't so bad as long as you worked it into your schedule properly. Ten minutes early, I walked into class and sat down. My classmate Georgina was sitting two seats across from me, her head on her desk. She moaned and turned her head to peer blearily at me. 'Hey, Alanna.'\n\n'Forgot to charge your phone again?' I said. She nodded sleepily as more of the class poured in, followed by our English teacher, Miss Lovell. While her back was turned, I passed my spare charger over to Georgina, who accepted it gratefully. She plugged her phone into the socket below her desk and made an attempt to look like she was awake as the teacher turned to the class.\n\nI glanced around the class. About half of them were in the 50-80% range of charge, by the looks of them. The rest were practically comatose with tiredness at this stage. Most of them would have plugged their phones in on the way into the classroom, but it took a while to get your energy levels back up after a slump below twenty percent power.\n\nLunchtime came quickly, and soon I was walking down to the town with the slightly more awake Georgina and my friend Jennifer. We were laughing and joking to each other the whole way until we saw the dead man.\n\nHe was lying on his front in the middle of a small crowd of people. I could see his phone lying on the ground just beside his outstretched hand, its screen dark and cracked. Breaking someone's phone was an easy way to kill them quietly. Someone had obviously mugged this guy, broken his phone and probably stolen the rest of his valuables before leaving him to die in the gutter.\n\nIt was things like this that brought home the new fragility of human life. You entrusted your mortality to a piece of plastic and metal, something so much harder to defend than your own body. It could bring you back from the brink of death, but it could also shove you off the cliff as well.\n\nOur high spirits shattered, we trudged quietly the rest of the way into town.\n\n*\n\nI had mostly forgotten about the man by the time I got home. It had been a long day. I felt exhausted. I checked my phone as I unslung my bag from my shoulder onto the floor. Yep, 47%. I wondered if I should get a new battery.\n\nEven something as simple as that was dangerous if. You were advised to have someone there to help if something happened while you were swapping out the old one for the new. It was like attempting to swap your own heart; you could fall unconscious if your phone was off for more than thirty seconds, and you'd be dead in less than two minutes after that.\n\nI remembered my mother changing the battery in my phone the first few times. As soon as the tiny metal contacts had parted company with each other, I began to feel faint, all the energy just draining from my limbs for several horrible moments before my mother slotted in the new one. I hated that feeling. It was like a glimpse into what depression felt like.\n\nI sighed and plugged my phone into its charging station as I began my homework. After ten minutes, I was already feeling less tired.\n\nLike I said, there were two sides to this phone thing.\n\n\n\nThe next morning, I awoke and instinctively reached out for my phone. It wasn't there. My eyes shot open and I sat bolt upright, looking around for it. My room was tidy enough that I wouldn't have missed it lying somewhere.\n\nI jumped out of bed and looked everywhere: in my schoolbag, my pockets, under the bed. I ran downstairs and scanned the kitchen and living room. Nothing.\n\nYou know that feeling when you can't find your phone? That mixture of frustration and oh-God-did-I-leave-it-somewhere-else? Well, that's how I felt, multiplied by a thousand.\n\nBecause that phone was my life. It literally was* my life.\n\nI ran back upstairs and into my parents' room, shaking my mother awake. 'Mum!' I cried. 'My phone's gone!'\n\nShe looked at me sleepily. 'What?'\n\n'It's gone! I've looked everywhere!'\n\nShe sat up, obviously catching onto the panic in my voice. 'Okay, calm down,' she said. 'Where did you use it last?'\n\n'I plugged it into its charging station before I went to sleep,' I said. 'Then I woke up, and it wasn't there. I've checked my entire room.'\n\nShe followed me into my bedroom and together we had a second search around the place, but to no avail. 'I'll try ringing it,' she said, pulling out her own phone. I listened to the dialing tone on loudspeaker, then it went to my voicemail. We hadn't heard the ringing from anywhere in the house.\n\n'It could be downstairs under a cushion or something,' my mother said, but I could tell she was seriously worried now. We hurried downstairs and she rang my phone again, with the same result.\n\nI went to check the sitting room again while she went into the kitchen. I was turning over couch cushions when I heard her say 'Oh my God,' quietly. I went into the kitchen.\n\nThe back door's glass screen had been smashed in, the glass fragments all over the floor. I wouldn't have heard it being broken if it had happened while I was asleep; I was a super-heavy sleeper. I looked at my mother's face as she turned to look at me\n\n'I think someone's broken in,' she said. 'And they might have stolen your phone.'\n\nI had jumped to the same conclusion as soon as I had seen the smashed glass, but hearing it spoken out loud sent a shiver down my spine. 'We need to call the police,' I said.\n\n'Yes, we do,' she said, pushing past me into the hall. I leant against the doorframe as I listened to her shouting up to my father.\n\nI was suddenly feeling rather tired." ]	3
A fib is a poem where each line must contain the appropriate number of syllables for its entry in the Fibonacci series (as far as I'm concerned, zero can either be ignored or consist of a punctuation mark). Following is an example of the number of syllables in successive lines: one one one two one two three one two three four five one two three four five six and eight And so on. In any case, the Fibonacci series starts out with the numbers zero and one; successive entries in the series are formed by adding the previous two (so the Fibonacci sequence starts out like 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34…).	[WP] Write a fib, a type of poem based on the Fibonacci series (see post for details)	[ "One.\n\nTwo.\n\nNow three.\n\nAgain - four.\n\nMore - five now, and yet...\n\nWhy does it go up - Oh God, why?\n\nMake the count stop - make it stop! Is there no mercy here?\n\nHow many days must pass - how many weeks, months, years?! She comes back to me - every time.\n\nAnd I give her a shoulder - a shoulder for her tears. An ear for her words, her woes. I love her when they don't, but she can't love me, or else, won't.\n\nAm I a bad person? Am I bad, for refusing myself happiness. I make her happy, I can tell. She smiles with me - not with them. But I don't smile. I never smile. How can I, when she hurts herself so? She hurts.\n\nShe hurts and I do nothing. There is nothing I can do. I want to be there for her, but I am afraid. I am afraid I will lose what we have. I wouldn't mind losing it - if it'd make her happy. But it won't. Without me, who would she go to? Them? They don't love her - they are why she cries. She tells me about them. How they are handsome, and strong, and rich, but never kind, or loving, or tender. There is no peace.\n\nThere is passion. Quick, and swift. It never lasts. I know, because she always comes back to me. I hope, one day, she won't. She won't come back to me because she does not need me. I hope one day she will find the one she is looking for - that her chains will be broken, and she will be set free. I pray for it - for her happiness. But she won't get it. She will never be happy, nor will I. We are trapped in this god forsaken circle. I want to fight it - to try to break it myself. But I am too weak. I want to weep, but will not. I must be strong. For her. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. The years go on. And on." ]	1
	[WP] Write a modern tale of warfare in which the great wall of china has strategic value.	[ "Two hundred uniformed men of the PLA, clad in shades of modern green and brown camouflage, were lined up along the battlements of the Great Wall of China using a tactic that had not been used for over a century, on a fortification that had not been utilized for its original purpose since the Ming Dynasty. They stood looking beyond the crenels, gazing at the grassy plain that stretched out before them for many kilometers north until it reached the foot of a mountain range in the hazy distance. The wind howled of lonely despair and the sunny landscape was devoid of life.\n\nThe men ranged from young recruits of eighteen to veteran twentysomethings; some wore anxious expressions while some seemed calm or wholly unfazed. The majority were somewhere in between. Some chewed their lips or chewed on gum, or tapped the top of the stone parapet with their fingers, or whistled along with the wind. All of them rested their rifles on the battlements and waited, except for platoon leaders and the company commander, Captain Zhang, who huddled around on the walkway heatedly discussing something none the privates could hear.\n\n\"Fuck, the Mongols are late,\" spoke one youthful private in Sichuan-flavored Mandarin. His jest broke the monotony of staring at the barren plain and several of his neighbors chuckled. \"Let's hope they get here before the Manchus do.\"\n\n\"What are you talking about, you blind fuck? I'm right here,\" a prominently-cheeked private from Inner Mongolia replied, smirking. More snickering.\n\n\"Shut up!\" barked a voice behind them, and all fell silent. \"Keep your eyes on the horizon,\" ordered Captain Zhang's gruff voice. A few dared to sneak a glance and saw that the meeting of officers had adjourned and the captain was pacing the length of the walkway with a transceiver in his hand. His rough, weathered face scrunched up and his lips were shaped in a scowl.\n\nAfter several minutes, even the joking Sichuanese private had lost his mirth and now stared ahead at the plain with abysmal with worry, glancing from time to time to his neighbors. \"Doesn't it bother anyone,\" he asked, his voice at a hush, \"that we are standing on a fortification that has not seen military use since Ming Dynasty?\"\n\n\"The Nationalists fought the Japs here in the Anti-Japanese War,\" another soldier pointed out.\n\n\"Sure,\" the Sichuanese acquiesced, \"but my point is, why now? What enemy does Central have in mind for us? What kind of enemy would we possibly defend Zhong-Guo from?\"\n\n\"Maybe the Jap-devils have come back as actual devils to haunt us,\" jested the Mongol. More chuckling. Riben guizi, Jap-devil, was a common Chinese epithet for their neighbors across the sea, historically or otherwise. \"In all seriousness, we'll probably soon find out. The officers seemed very -- \"\n\n\"Enemy spotted!\" arose the cry, echoed down the wall. Every soldier turned and squinted forward; a mass of brown bodies could be seen approaching rapidly from the north, kicking a dust cloud behind them. The sheer size of the invading horde was shocking, jaws dropped and panicked, worried yells sounded. The plain was absolutely filling up with those brown things -- human bodies, the soldiers realized with awe.\n\n\"The fuck is this, Nurhaci and the goddamn Manchus?! Tamade, this shit -- \"\n\n\"Stay calm!\" the Captain yelled, reordering the lines. \"Contact has been made with the enemy, preparing to engage!\" he shouted into the transceiver.\n\n**\n\nCaptain Zhang was not a man to dream of wild stories or read books. He grew up as the son of a Shaanxi farmer and army veteran. Like the rest of the down-to-earth, honest good folk of the countryside, he worked the fields and saw little interest in learning or reading. He hailed from a military family and even as men were seeking their fortunes as businessmen and urban laborers in the great economic Kaifang* of the 80s, he dropped out of college and joined the People's Liberation Army. Captain Zhang believed in the Party leadership; he was a conservative, simple-minded man. So when he heard that corpses were becoming alive and attacking major cities in the north, he thought his superiors had gone insane. Stationed here in the middle of nowhere, on a relic of military history, he was to meet this fantastical host of apparent undead.\n\nAnd they came, slowly but menacingly, for they were numerous and Zhang was unsure if their ammunition was enough for this onslaught. Soon, they would be close enough...\n\n\"Soldiers, comrades. Remember that you are the heirs to a civilization boasting of five thousand years of history. You are the guardians to the Celestial Empire, the Middle Kingdom. You hold the fate of civilization in your hands. You are its gatekeeper -- and you shall not let them pass!\" he shouted, much to the cheering of his men. \"Kai-huo!\"\n\nAt the call, two hundred assault rifles of the highest caliber opened fire. A firestorm of bullets rained down on the approaching horde, decimating its front ranks, but more and more of the unnatural kind shambled forward to replace the fallen. Captain Zhang called for artillery and airstrikes; it was, perhaps, possible to hold back the inhuman enemy long enough for reinforcements to arrive...", "They called it the Black War. It was the war we never saw coming. It was the war without enemies or allies, at least not clear ones. The war was fought with words and ideologies. It was to win people's minds. It was the war between freedom and fear. It was the war over thought.\n\nWe didn't know who the terrorists were. We didn't know if there were any terrorists to begin with, or if our governments were leading us on a wild goose chase. We didn't know why the terrorists were here, or why we were fighting them, but we couldn't let them take it. We couldn't let it fall.\n\nThe Eiffel Tower, the Taj Mahal, Mount Rushmore, the Statue of Liberty... all gone... all fallen. The Great Wall was all that was left. If the Great Wall Fell, then people would lose all hope.\n\nWe were the Peacekeepers, but as the weeks passed, stationed on the wall, we began to ask, were we keeping the peace? Was this the war we should be fighting? Was this all exaggeration? Was this all just another tool of fear used by authority to keep their control?\n\nNo. The answer was worse. Much worse. There was no authority left. A monster was created and released. No one was in control. Fear had won the war, and we haven't even fired a bullet.", "As it turned out Attack on Titan was on to something. \n\nAbout the walls, I mean. There are no weird giant cannibal humans eating people. No cannons or mutant humans or anything. Just batshit weird aliens and their strange methods of war. \n\nThey came hurtling down in what looked like teardrops. They would land in the ocean, then swim with terrifying speed to the costs to slaughter the costal cities. Weird as these aliens were, they were vicious and deadly and worst of all, terrifyingly clever and brilliant birds of war. They held no remorse, took no prisoners. They didn't even ransack the cities and towns. They just destroyed them. They'd place something in the bodies of the deceased, and in a few days small creatures would devour the captured cities and make haste towards the oceans and lakes. \n\nIslands like Hawaii, Japan, Taiwan all fell first. The outer fifty miles of the US, and much of Europe was taken. The Koreas, barely working together, put up quite a fight, but eventually they, too, fell.\n\nHoping we could hold them off in Asia and what was left of Europe, what was left of humanity was ushered into Russia, then China as they started approaching from the Arctic ocean and worked their way south.\n\nOddly enough, the Great Wall of China is what saved us. Once we closed the gates, humanity was safe, we figured. At least until they climbed the wall. But they didn't. They never did. Never made ladders, never tried to even make living ladders. They just bunched at the bottom like a group of blind, moronic ants, which we knew they were not. \n\nSo we captured one. Paralyzed it, brought it into repurposed hospitals for dissection. It was also the only time anybody actually got to see one up close, being so fast that if you were close enough you were already dead. Bodycams aren't good enough to capture them\n\nThey're odd, beetle-like creatures, with vaguely human torsos. Their bodies were varying shades of green, brown and occasional orange. Their legs were blunt and thick, claws at the end of their too-long arms thin and razor sharp, seeming to fit into a shovel-like appendage with the hand flat. But none of this indicated why they wouldn't even attempt to climb the walls, or why they bunched up like ants at the base.\n\nWe did some digging in their brains. Turns out their eyes are completely useless- they see with scents, the wind, the magnetic field of the planet. Their brains are being fed information from the eyes, but it's ignored. We did not determine why. But we did more analysis. I don't know the particulars, but from what I know, and I'm probably horribly mangaling this, the concept of something being above them in the literal sense is foreign to them. Slopes or metal walls or wood walls, sure, something atop the wall, yeah why not. Something on the other side of thick stone walls? They don't understand it or something, I don't know. I'm an engineer, not a neuroscientist.\n\nWe did enough dissecting and digging to finally be able to simulate its behaviour with software. We set about designing vehicles that would be able to safely leave the walls and head outwards, to fight and build walls around major mines, factories, anything to sustain the population crammed within the Great Wall. In the end, the design ended up being a giant, ugly cube with wheels. Like a heavily armored, low-riding bus. \n\nWithing months the living conditions in the wall improved, as we started digging down, reclaiming land used for factories and farming for living space. We outsourced all food growth, manufacturing, research to smaller Wall Compounds outside the land. We built two-lane high-speed railroads to travel between them all.\n\nI don't know where I was going with this and I'm not happy with it, but whatever. " ]	3
Ideas: what is the place like? Is it choosing between heaven and hell? Which people/users do you meet there?	[WP] Your amount of reddit karma decides your position in the pecking order of the afterlife	[ "You awake to find yourself in an empty room. It is stark white and stretches endlessly in all directions. From your left, you can just barely make out the sounds of laughter. You here joyful banter and cheering. You run in the direction of the noises but never seem to get closer. As you stop to rest, you begin to hear other noises from your right. Sounds of anger and frustration, foul words and cries. You run away, still following the laughter but to no avail. After sitting for some time in quiet contemplation, you begin walking towards the horrible sounds. They too never materialize. You run and run in all directions, but nothing is there. You yell and scream but no one seems to hear. You spent too many years lurking on reddit, and now you are doomed to it for eternity." ]	1
	[WP] You've finally found the object of your quest: a legendary weapon that the hero of a bygone age once wielded. The problem is, it hasn't aged very well...	[ "The sky had always been full of dragons and winged beasts, and so man hid deep inside their bunkers of grey stone and rock. Yet not even three foot of their hardest stone could hold against the terrors lurking in the ground. Nights were the sounds of rumbling tremors as the ancient beings of old woke from their slumber, where a single twist or turn of these creatures could bring the ceiling crashing down upon them.\n\nAnd it was a world where even sleep would not bring rest. Blue knew this well, as his dreams were devoured every night by a horrific bipedal beast – yellow snout, slanted eyes, two yellow hands with three (maybe four, Blue was not quite sure) fingers that could so easily pluck a child from his peaceful slumber.\n\nAnd so Blue had had enough. An old book, recovered from his father’s many trips to the world outside, spoke of something impossibly strong. Here it was written that the being was not legendary…but the acts it had committed were of legends.\n\nBlue did not understand what the line meant. But then again, he did not need to.\n\nThe door to the bunker opened into the night. Lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the sky. There, behind the clouds, was a long slithering body and four golden strings of light trailing behinds its large head.\nBlue had once been scared of the dragon. He would be no longer.\n\nIt was dark outside the bunker. Just a week ago, it had been adorned with living lamps floating outside. Waiting. Always waiting. Yesterday, his father breathed his last. And so the floating lamps were no more.\n\nThere was nothing to hold him back now. His father’s scarf wrapped around his neck, Blue set off on his journey.\n\n----\n\nBlue found the legendary weapon in a very weird ‘bunker’. He called it a bunker because it was all he knew. But this bunker had more than one storey, and he had to break through the door to get in. His feet (wrapped in leaves) scraped the cold floor. There was a mark here…it looked like a circle with another circle inside it. The top was red. The bottom was white.\n\nBlue checked his book. And so it was the same.\n\nIn the backroom, there were a plethora of weird balls. One of these would be the weapon.\n\n----\n\nThe tremors, the lightning, the soul eaters and the nightmares, all would stop. All would be no more.\n\nBlue set off into the caves of Terra. Deep within, was the beast of the land. Its head was covered with four separate plates of red armor. Its claws were numerous, thick and round and immaculately shaped for tunneling and battle.\n\nBut Blue was not scared, for he had the weapon at last. Simple, really.\n\nHe threw the ball at the ground and it opened. Light poured from within.\n\nSomething…something was on the ground. A clump of matted yellow fur.\n\n“Pi…ka…cough cough…chu^u^u^u…”\n\nRegardless of the weapon’s age, Groudon is immune to electric. \n\nIt had no effect.\n\n---\n\nNote: I have only played Pokemon First Gen. The main ones referenced in the story are Drowzee (Pokedex Entry: It remembers every dream it eats. It rarely eats the dreams of adults because children's are much tastier.) and Lampent (The spirits it absorbs fuel its baleful fire. It hangs around hospitals waiting for people to pass on.)", "I couldn't believe my eyes. It was glorious. All these years of searching, and I finally had the Staff of Acute Madness. It pulsed with power, sitting framed in an alcove just off the end of the main cavern. I found myself overwhelmed with emotion. All those nights sleeping in the mud and rain, the weeks battling ogres and goblins in the depths of the Moronian Mines, and the years away from my family had all been worth it to find this, the key to the downfall of the corrupt kingdom of Thornaron.\n\nI walked up the steps to the altar where it lay, gleaming under the sunlight that streamed through an opening just above it. I gingerly picked up the staff, fearful that I might break it after all these years. Its wood was surprisingly cool to touch, smooth and weathered, solid yet light. I lifted it high above my head in triumph.\n\n\"AHA!\" My cry echoed around the cavern.\n\nAnd then came the rumbling.\n\nNot again!\n\nUp from the earth arose a giant goblin, fierce and fiery in the dim cave. His head almost reached the roof that towered above us. It roared, shaking the earth around me. Inside, I felt a sense of elation. Ordinarily, I would have run - but now, I had the most powerful weapon ever created in my grasp. \n\nI tightened my grip, and ran down the stairs onto the cavern floor. The beast awaited me there. I charged forward, a grin on my face, thrust the staff towards my foe, and shouted \"Kirrawar! Loth Hect!\n\nThere was a crack of thunder as the staff's fury was unleashed. I had summoned its might, and it was responding! The earth rumbled, the walls shook, and A HAIL OF BUNNIES DESCENDED UPON THE FLOOR!\n\nWait... what?\n\nI stared in horror as a horde of fluffy white terror sat quietly on the cavern floor, looking back at me.\n\nI must have said something wrong, I reasoned. The goblin was equally confused as he scooped up a bunny and scratched it with his finger. I reset my focus and screamed again. \"Kriniwag! Long Tith!\n\nAgain, a peal of thunder, and a hail of baby squirrels descended from the heavens. It was then that I realised my horrible mistake. This wasn't the Staff of Acute Madness... it was the Staff of Mad Cuteness!\n\nI ran away, cursing my luck, as the goblin stood there distracted by the cuteness on display.\n\nAnd believe me, I never undertook a quest based on the recommendation of a hard-of-hearing magician again.", "Legends told of a powerful toothbrush which gives its user teeth worthy of kings. Many did not even believe it was real, but Harold had faith, and today his faith paid off.\n\nHarold stared- after nine long years of dedicating his life to finding the toothbrush, he had finally found it. He smiled- his protruding teeth and bad breath made the very air quiver.\n\nThe toothbrush was old- however. It had been lost for almost a thousand years. A few bristles which still remained shook unsteadily in the wind. It was dirty, too- spots of mud and dirt clung on, and it smelled of fecal matter. Harold did not care. It was the power of the toothbrush- not the physical state he was after. It would work. It had to.\n\nHarold carefully placed the toothbrush on his lips, and brushed. He felt a tingling sensation, then a sharp pain caused him to black out.\n\nHarold awoke in a dentist chair. “I’m sorry, sir.” The dentist said. “But you better brace yourself.”\n\n“What happened?” Harold asked in alarm.\n\n“I’m afraid,” The dentist replied, “that you’re gunna need some… crowning.”" ]	3
	[WP] The users of 9gag, 4chan, Reddit, and any other similar sites are involved in a clash to decide where content originated.	[ "The stained glass lamp hung over the table, the polyurethane coating glinting as if the sections were still wet. My grandfather folded his newspaper, turning the large, fragile page and yawning his special yawn, his throat rattling with the passage of air from the smoke and subsequent radiation it faced.\n\nI know that time is seeping out, so slow, so precious. I almost fear him, so ancient, so respected. He is my shrunken hero, he is our patriarch. He is my role model, he is our oldest member. The urge to preserve takes over.\n\n\"Grandpep, will you talk about what it was like, before Dad was born?\" For a moment, I thought he did not hear me. He cleared his throat and kept reading. \n\nHe took a sip of water.\n\nHe closed the paper.\n\nHe put away his glasses.\n\n\"When my family moved from New York, it was the hardest year there. I didn't know, I was young, my father worked in construction, we lived with my uncle, a dentist.\" His eyes looked far off, blue like weathered sea glass, rimmed in dark navy from age.\n\n\"My uncle needed help with the rent, and after the crash, my father needed a job. Then things got worse in the city. The hurricane hit.\" He took another sip of water.\n\n\"What year was it?\" \n\n\"I might have been around nine or ten. I don't remember. But anyways, then we moved to outside Pittsburgh, my father, mother, Nancy, and I. We, me and Nancy, got a little Asus tablet for Christmas that year, we had to take turns. I remember I used to take it and lock myself in the bathroom for hours and just scroll and scroll. Nancy never did anything with it. She just took selfies, girl stuff, maybe she went on Pinterest. I didn't care.\" His gravely voice scraped my ears and the neat kitchen nook's paneling. It crackled loud, gurgling, and humming, like a thunderstorm that makes creeks into little rivers that ruin their banks. \n\n\"That was when the tensions were really building, of course. I was a proud Redditor, lurking with an account, upvoting where I saw fit. None of us knew what we were doing. I was young, younger than most of them, and most of them were just over twenty, long dead now.\"\n\n\"What was your username?\" The curiosity came from my throat and interrupted him. He looked surprised. \n\n\"I can't say I remember.\" He looked at me thoughtfully, then he winked. \"But even if I did, I wouldn't tell you.\" We shared a moment of humor, smiling with the same dimples on our left cheeks.\n\n\"Where was I?\" He paused, \"Oh yes. Back then, the internet was spontaneous. Anyone in the world could do anything. You could be anyone because nobody knew you, and nobody could prove a darned thing. Then everything went to hell.\"\n\n\"This was the reformation like in school, right?\"\n\n\"I guess that's what they call it. It was after the NSA leak, then Snowden's 'accident'.\" His left hand, his only working hand, the other too arthritic to even hold a mouse, rose and formed air quotation marks. \n\n\"There was so much fuel for social commentary and everything was changing so fast. It seemed like everywhere, everyone was smoking pot, coming out, and ripping on each other for it. It was crazy, but the comics were clever, the celebrities nude and leaked, and the memes classic. It was too good to last.\" He sighed. \n\n\"We were so busy ripping on each other for borrowing content, we didn't realize.\" \n\n\"When /r/Funny, you know how subreddits used to work, right?\" He didn't stop for me to answer. \"When it was shut down, that's when it really started. It was because one pop star, you're too young to remember her, Beyoncé, she sued the site for slander, and everything went to hell.\" \n\n\"Think of all those people, thousands of people left to find something else to browse. I remember, I was heartbroken.\" He paused, his old eyes glinting with tears. \"But you know how it goes, the worst of humanity kicks hardest when their targets are down.\"\n\nThe sun had risen outside. My grandmother was stirring in their bedroom at the end of their hall. I could hear her making the bed in her slow, methodical movements.\n\n\"That was what 4chan did. They saw us at our weakest and thought it would be funny to take us down completely. They started making troll subreddits. /r/CuteFemaleCorpses, for example.\" I cringed.\n\n\"Then we fought back. But not before 9Gag's migration.\" \n\nWith another sip of water and a yawn, and my grandfather was off again. \"At the time, Beyoncé wasn't just suing us. She was suing about twenty-eight different URLs from BroMyGod to imgur. 9Gag was one of them. Most of their content was just stuff from /r/Funny, but with more captions and a few memes. They thought it was our fault that they were getting sued, so they invaded. Most of them were determined to troll, immediately shadowbanned and too stupid to realize it. Others were a little more clever, making throwaway accounts left and right. They would hold down a single key for God knows how long and comment. At first, it was so strange that we bought them gold and upvoted them. Then entire threads were lost.\" He looked away. \"We got angry.\"\n\n\"Before our mods could come up with a solution, people who didn't understand what was going on started noticing how heated things were getting. Nancy Grace was one of them; she was a woman who had a television show that would use fear for ratings. She wanted to put all the 'good' websites on a server, and delete all the others. Her idea quickly started trending as #NoahsNet, like that bible story of Noah and all the animals on the ark. Then the government noticed.\"\n\nMy grandmother entered the kitchen. She smiled with her wrinkly mouth. \"Good morning Jennifer, would you like some silver dollar pancakes for breakfast?\" \n\nI greeted her and got down the griddle from the shelf she couldn't reach. The batter spit and sizzled on the searing black surface.\n\nMy grandfather took his pills from an organiser the size of the current iPhone mega. He got up to put in his teeth. \n\n\"You always gotta remember your teeth. You remember your teeth?\" He asked me. I nodded.\n\n\"What happened after the government noticed?\" My grandmother ripped open a package of bacon.\n\n\"That's how we all got Tumblr accounts.\" I nodded and he sighed again. \"Speaking of Tumblr,\" He brightened, \"Why aren't you following me?\"", "9gag: lol xd\n\nReddit: Yes, let's start this conversation this way.\n\n9gag: Just kidin.\n\n4chan: >kidin.\n\nReddit: I already regret inviting 9gag.\n\n4chan: I already regret inviting Reddit.\n\nReddit: You didn't invite anyone!\n\n4chan: I invited myself. I am too important as that I'm ignored. Look at who you invited.\n\nTumblr: Hello!\n\n4chan: If you even dare to get all SJW, I fuck-\n\nReddit: We're not here to insult each other.\n\n4chan: You're waifu a shit.\n\nReddit: Wha- I don't even have a waifu.\n\nTumblr: What's a waifu?\n\n4chan: The one woman you'll ever have and love.\n\nReddit: Basically, you treat an anime character like an actual person and want to be with her\n\nTumblr: That's sexist.\n\nReddit: I don't care anyway, but this is not the topic. 4chan, don't derail this.\n\n4chan: Kirino is a miracle of the universe.\n\n4chan: Yuki, too.\n\nReddit: Can we get someone not from /a/?\n\n4chan: Yes, of course. Excuse him.\n\nReddit: Good. So, the topic: Where does content come from?\n\n4chan: I can tell from who it doesn't come from: the jews. \n\n9gag: lol, xd\n\nTumblr: That's racist\n\nWikipedia: Technically content comes from whoever uploaded said content to the server it is downloaded from. Due to the internet decentralized structure, it is very hard to pinpoint a certain content was first uploaded from.\n\nReddit: That's exactly what we're discussing here.\n\nImgur: Well, obviously from us.\n\n4chan: I refuse to believe imgur has a commmunity. It's only a image hoster.\n\nReddit: He is right in a certain way. Most content is saved on his servers.\n\n9gag: He is right in a certain way. Most content is saved on my servers.\n\nReddit: Shut up.\n\n4chan: So, the content must come from me then.\n\nReddit: That's not entirely sure. There is plenty of content that was hosted by us first\n\n4chan: You're a link aggregator. Nothing is hosted by you.\n\nReddit: That's why we have imgur.\n\nTumblr: What about us?\n\n4chan: All you bring is wannabe-feminists and gay porn.\n\nTumblr: That's not true!\n\n9gag: Maybe we must refine our question: Not to where content comes from, but from where content originated. Should this include the internet or not? How long should we go back in time? Should we classify by type - audio, visual etc.-? Should we search for the origins how they were created or how they were shared? Should we classify by country, continent and enthic groups. I think that before we can solve a debate, we must answer the important question that is to be solved in that debate.\n\nReddit: ...\n\nTumblr: ,,,\n\n4chan: faggot\n\n---\n\nNot a real clash, but I thought this would be funnier. I also made them more the sites themself as the users, but it works either way.\n\n\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] Write a story, any story, that does not begin with someone waking up and going through their morning routine.	[ "Miss Katie Sassoon walked up to the door of her shop and stared out the glass windows of the millinery and dry goods store. It was a perfect spring day, the temperature in the low sixties, with only a few scattered clouds in the sky. Children ran barefoot through paved stone street, one guiding a barrel hoop down the road with a stick. The streets and sidewalks had on them a fair number of people, couples strolling along leisurely while those alone went at a slightly faster clip. Several men lounged about on the stoop of the barbershop across the street, smoking pipes and conversing amongst themselves. A cloud of smoke hung in the air about them, slowly wafted away by the gentle breeze. The Silver Stag Tavern four buildings east of the barber's was doing brisk business, several wooden tables and chairs being brought out into the street to manage overflow. Horses were tied out front to the hitching posts that lined the wide street, or else were stabled at the livery owned by the Adler family at block and a half north-west. The Silver Stag was the closest competitor to the Gilded Lion a half-mile south of the main village of South Lyon. While the Stag mainly served those who lived in the actual village, the Lion was frequented by more of the farming community, lending an unofficial division to the two. Each was perfectly fine.\n\nKatie Sassoon turned around to face the rest of the shop, the skirt of her green petticoat swirling with her as she did so. Facing the lone man sitting at the countertop, she spoke, her smooth Midlander accent calm and perhaps slightly distant. \n\n\"I believe I will go on a walk, Uncle. If any asks for me, would you please tell them I'll be back by two?\"\n\nThe older man dressed in a grey coat and red vest smiled amiably. His balding head reflected the bright morning light off of his pate. The sight caused his twenty year old niece to smile reflexively as well. Her Uncle Walter took his gradual loss of hair in good stride, remarking on the time he saved combing his hair in the morning. \n\n\"Of course, my dear. I would be my pleasure. Where would you be off to? The Ladies' Club?\"\n\nThe young women shook her head, walking over to the stand where her straw hat hung. Placing the wide brim over her head, she tied the silk ribbon under chin. \n\n\n\"Perhaps afterwards, Uncle. But I think I will go to the temple first.\"\n\n\"Very well, dove. While you're there, tell Father Micheal I say hello, and ask him if he is still good for tomorrow's board game night. Enjoy yourself. Katherine.\"\n\nShe turned the handle to the store and opened the door, letting the fresh spring air blow past her skirts.\n\n\"Of course, I'll be back in few hours. Goodbye.\"", "\"OH SHIIIIIIIIIIIIII... Wait, what!? How are we not dead?\"\n\n\"I don't know bro... It just stopped....\"\n\nWe, me and my best friend, Eric, were in Eric's car going to his parent's house for his mom's birthday, when the car started spinning out. It was snowing, the roads were icy, and Eric saw a stray dog on the road.... We started spinning out, heading toward the edge of the bridge. Then we stopped.\n\n\"Well this is an exciting morning.\" It was 8 am, and I just woke up from sleeping in the car.\n\n\"Yeah, bro, I know right! Let's go see what happened.\" Eric quickly took a step out of the car... too fast... he started falling, sliding towards the edge of the bridge.\n\n\"Eric, hold on!\" I screamed as I jumped out of the car to stop him. I fell also, sliding to the edge... life flashing before my eyes. Then I stopped. Just like the car. Suddenly, I felt my face be slapped by a mysterious force. I looked up and saw people... large people.... They grabbed me and pulled me away from the edge of the bridge. Each of them had guns, large guns....\n\n\"I really need my coffee,\" I mumbled as they threw me next to Eric on the trunk of the car.", "Only one of the overhead bulbs flickered, and the corner tiles remained in shadows, but it was enough light for me to notice the pupils; pupils engulfed my eyes, filled to the brim with black. Dark circles were painted underneath the eyes themselves. The closer I stepped towards myself, the more wrinkled I became. It was as if time was killing me more efficiently than ever. I only took one hit. Had I always worn such hideous features? I fell to the cold tile, praying for the comedown. My palms had never appealed to me so much in my life. I covered my face and wept into them. Even behind closed eyelids I saw harsh colors. I couldn't put a name to a single one, but they were harsh in tone and intention. I prayed. I hadn't prayed in decades. A box fell to the floor and I wiped the salt from my face to see a pack of smokes. Newports. My weak fingers scrambled on a mission to tear it open and get a puff. Only one left; and upside down too. I put the filter to my lips and closed my eyes. Smoke was a pleasant surprise. The colors dissipated with the smoke. My eyes flashed open to a woman holding the lighter to my grit. She was beautiful, as was my demise.", "The opening strains of some shitty early nineties metal song startled Pete, and he reached over to change the station.\n\n\nJesus, I almost fell asleep. Just have to make it another ten minutes or so. I can do that.\n\n\nHis biceps ached and his back was worse. The blue button-down he'd worn to work this morning lay balled up and forgotten in the passenger seat; his once-white undershirt was caked in dirt and soaked through with sweat. The next ten minutes were a challenge, and only luck kept him from attracting the attention of a roving highway patrolman. \n\n\nHe made it, though. The garage door rolled shut behind him and Pete was left in silence. After a minute the automatic light on the garage door shut off and there was darkness, too. Alone, then, Pete allowed himself a heavy sigh. It carried with it the weight of his day, and it was too substantial a presence to share the cab. He opened the door and the automatic light switched back on. \n\n\nThe washing machine sat beside the door leading to the kitchen. Pete stripped his sodden clothes and threw them in the trash. The folding shovel from his trunk went with them.\n\n\nEvery light in the house burned brightly. The dining room table lay on its side and chairs were scattered between that room and the living room; Pete was unconcerned. He righted a chair that was within arm's reach as he headed to the bathroom but ignored the rest; he would shower before he tidied up.\n\n\nThe water was hot and his skin a mottled red, but Pete wasn't bothered. He hummed to himself as he cleaned under each fingernail. The humming helped him to remember.\n\n\nKitchen table, chairs, dinnerware. Blood on the floor.\n\n\nHe'd be sure to clean thoroughly. He'd done it before. First, though, he needed to be clean. After the shower he'd brush and floss, then shave. His regular morning routine.", "Did this on mobile, sorry for any formatting issues.\n\nThe sunlight crept through the blinds, shining on the floor of Ted's apartment. I guess it's about time I get up, Ted thought. Ted hadn't been sleeping all that well lately. In fact he didn't sleep at all the previous night. It'll probably work itself out, he told himself.\n\nTed made his way to the kitchen. Perhaps a nice breakfast will set me straight, he thought. He went to one of his overhead cabinets and pulled out his cheap frying pan. Turning on the stove, he placed the pan on the burner. Wobbly, Ted noticed. Don't remember that. Maybe I should get a new pan soon. He went to the fridge and pulled out two eggs and some cheese. With the pan now hot, Ted cracked the eggs on the side of the counter and dropped them into the pan. Damn, dropped the shell in there. I never drop the shell. Ted carefully reached in and pulled the shells out, throwing them into the trash. Not discouraged, Ted plated his eggs, grated some cheese over them and enjoyed his breakfast.\n\nAfter he cleaned up, Ted made his way to the bathroom. He fumbled around the bathroom wall looking for the lightswitch, found it and flicked it on. Huh, he thought, I never get it on the first try. I always hit the fan's switch first. Without a second thought, Ted went to the sink. He sipped his mouthwash, swashed it around, and spat. Then he grabbed his toothbrush, pressed on some toothpaste, and brushed. Back, forth, up, down....wait. Ted found this odd. I'm supposed to brush before I rinse. Why did I do that? Clumsy. Ted chalked it up to his sleep deprived state, and moved on.\n\nAlready running a little late for work, Ted got dressed quickly and left his apartment. Halfway down the stairs, Ted remembered, Oh, I need to lock my door! Rushing back up to his door, he pushed on his handle to find it wouldn't budge. Hmm. Landlord must've gotten new auto-locks installed. A warning would've been nice. Now slightly annoyed, he made his way to the bottom of the stairs and left the building.\n\nTed walked to the bus stop. He arrived and waited behind a very tall man, wearing all black. Black shoes, black pants, black shirt, black sunglasses. The only thing that wasn't black was the man's hair, which was grey with age, presumably. Haven't seen him before, Ted thought. Ted gave the man a quick smile, as to not be rude. The man seemed to either not notice or care. \n\nWithin the next few minutes, other, more familiar people began to the stop: an attractive young blonde Ted never plucked up the courage to talk to; a grumpy old lady that for whatever always seemed to shoot Ted the dirtiest looks. Ted glanced at his watch. 2 minutes until the bus came. Now 1. The bus should be here now. Now it's a minute late. The bus is never late, Ted worried, where could it be? He also began to notice how quiet it was beginning to get. No cars, no birds, not even any wind. Ted glanced at the other people, but no one seemed to share his concern. I'm probably overreacting. Yet the bus never came. Not after 2 minutes, or 5 or 10. Frustrated, Ted turned to the old bitter lady and asked,\n\n\"Do you have any idea where the bus could be?\"\n\nNo response. \n\nRight. Should've expected that from her, Ted thought. He turned to a young man, probably ex military since the crew cut and muscular build hinted at such, and asked again,\n\n\"Hey man, you hear anything about the bus being delayed?\"\n\nAgain, no response.\n\nTed, confused and now more than a little annoyed, seceded trying to get answers and continued to wait in silence. That is, until he heard a stern but soft voice speak up.\n\n\"They can't hear you,\" said the voice. \"In fact, no one can.\"\n\n\"I...I'm sorry?\" Ted turned around to see the man dressed in all black speaking to him.\n\nThe man repeated, \"They can't hear you. Look closer at them and you'll see why.\"\n\nTed, after much hesitation, did just that. He saw the people, perfectly normal, except for the fact that they were completely still. He waved his hand in front of the old lady, and still no response from her. Ted noticed more and more of his surroundings: no people or cars moving, no stoplights flashing, and strangest of all birds frozen in mid flight.\n\nTed turned to the mysterious man, the only thing still moving, and asked, \"Wh...what's going on?\"\n\n\"It's simple really. I've stopped time.\" The man replied.\n\nTed stared at the man. \"Stopped...time?\"\n\nThe man grinned. \"Correct! I'm glad you caught on so quickly. It took the others much longer to come to terms.\"\n\nTed continued to stare. \"Wait. Stopped...time?\"\n\nThe man dropped his smile. \"Oh dear. Maybe you haven't caught on yet. I guess we do this the long way. Follow me.\" The man turned on his heal and began to walk down the road.\n\nTed stood still. \"Follow you...where exactly? And why?\" \n\nThe man in black stopped and turned back towards Ted. He asked Ted, \"Have you noticed things a little off, today? Maybe your coffee too cold or your eggs too cooked? That's because there's an imbalance, my boy. A great imbalance in the world. And we believe you can help restore that balance.\"\n\nNot in the slightest bit convinced, Ted remained standing still. \"I think I'm going to need more than that to explain what's going on here,\" he said.\n\nThe man said \"Of course, my boy! If you come with me, all will be answered! Besides, what else do you have to do? Catch a bus? Trust me, they,\" the man nodded towards the crowd at the bus stop, \"won't even know you're gone.\" The man turned again and continued to head down the road.\n\nTed thought hard about this, weighing the pros and cons of the situation. He finally came to the conclusion that he had no better chance for answers than to follow this man. He had to fix this 'frozen time' somehow, and this man seemed to be the only one who knew anything. Besides, it was about time for an adventure.", "I walk down the dimly lit streets with great haste, I have made the fatal mistake of staying out too late. Ever since the war of German aggression ended and the rise of the fascist American Protection Corps it was impossible to walk the night without being harassed by those pigs. Every day there is a news report of an innocent man being beaten down and branded with the swastika as a message that the streets we walk on is theirs. As I continue walking I begin to feel a sense of dread as I begin to notice a group of shadows behind me. I barely begin to run when I am violently grabbed by my shoulder and pushed down. I attempt to crawl away when my assailants start kicking and stomping down on me like I was a football. The beating goes on as they call me names like \"Nigger lover\" and \"Jew Swine\" while spitting on me. After they have thoroughly beaten me down, they strip me of my shirt and begin to carve the Nazi swastika on me chest. Once they are done they all spit at me and kick me one more time before running back into the darkness of the night. I knew I had made a mistake by treading the streets at night and I have paid for it with my dignity. ", "Can I talk to you for a second?\n\nGreat, thanks so much. Look, before I start talking, just, well, please don’t think I’m weird.\n\nHa ha yeah I know “don’t think I’m weird” is never the best start to a conversation is it. Heh.\n\nWell, I honestly don’t know how to put this into words. I’ve been feeling really off these last few days. I don’t know what’s going on. \n\nNo, no, not like sick or anything. I feel totally ok in terms of health, at least well, I think everything’s ok. Just, something weirds going on. I’ve tried looking stuff up on the internet but you know what a Google search is like “YOU HAVE BRAIN CANCER” ha ha.\n\nYeah, exactly, you put in, like, dizziness and it comes back BRAIN CANCER. Vomiting - BRAIN CANCER. Pain in left big toe - PROBABLY BRAIN CANCER.\n\nHa ha exactly. \n\nSorry, well I honestly don’t know what’s going on. You know if you get, like, blackout drunk and the night before is just a spattering of memories.\n\nOh, you don’t drink.\n\nNo, it’s cool I’m not judging at all ha ha! Umm well sometimes if I get really on it I might have blind spots from the night before. Like, “hey how did I end up on my sofa with half a tin of dog food and no shoe and wait a second I don’t have a dog!” \n\nYeah it’s pretty common if people get on it too much ha ha.\n\nNo, that’s the thing, I’ve mega cut down on drinking cos I had a bit of a scare with some routine blood tests, so alcohol isn’t even a big deal anymore. But, like, certain blackouts are still happening, and I honestly don’t know what’s going on, it’s sort of freaking me out.\n\nWell, it’s kind of why I’m talking to you now. I mean… I actually don’t know how I got here. Last thing I remember is going home, having a microwave dinner, watching some arrested development and falling asleep. Next thing I know I’m here sat at my desk.\n\nIt’s fucking weird, right? I mean my clothes are clean on today, all ironed. I feel fresh and healthy, well rested, all that shit, but I honestly - hand on heart, have no fucking idea how I even got into work today!\n\nYeah, maybe it is brain cancer ha ha\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nSo, uhhh, you think I should get it checked out?", "The sound was deafening. A constant thump, thump, thump. Droning on and on. Besides the noise it was hot. Incredibly hot. Yes, there was a constant downward draft that shot air into the cabin. But it was hot. Incredibly hot. I felt like sticking your head into an oven. I looked out the side door and saw the a few palm trees pass down below. How can these plants live in this climate? I repositioned myself so my M60 machine gun rested against my left hand. Holding the long barreled weapon of this weight always puts strain on your trigger hand. I switched to my left to let my other hand rest. That and the black finish on it was incredibly hot baking in the sun.\n\n\nA soldier behind tapped me on the shoulder with a spare headset. I put it on and it barely reduced the noise. I could barely hear the communications between the Sergeant and the pilot. The part I could make out was ‘circle around to the South East and at the first clearing with yellow smoke is the LZ.’ The routine was the same. I cover my 180 degree sector and watch for any targets in the open. But due to the Geneva Convention I can’t shoot until shot at first. But personally I see someone running at the helicopter with a weapon, I’m putting them down. We all got the rescue recovery training. Nobody in their right mind would do that.\n\n\nAs we passed over what trees there were I couldn’t help but think about why the hell I’m here. I was just resting. My platoon just got stuck doing a dumb detail and didn’t get lights out until 2400. Next thing I know I’m being commanded to get dressed and rushed off to the armory. It wasn’t even day break and we’re standing in line for our weapons. Oh, but don’t worry. We are handed MRE’s along the way so at least we get some nutrition. No time to brush or make my bunk. But’s okay, we’ll probably get dumped on it later to make our beds. Going on less than four hours of sleep. I was really hoping we’d get to sleep in and enjoy this weekend like normal people.\n\n\nThe helicopter finally touches down and the view is blinded by the yellow smoke. Or is it pink? It’s hard to tell. It looks like it’s changing colors. A few soldiers jump out before I can get a proper sweep of the area. A few shout out in profanity to cover the area. Some don’t know where the rally point is. I’m fuckin’ pissed because I can’t see shit. It’s also incredibly hot. I’ve already got sweat stains bleeding through my uniform. Out from the smoke pops a dark figure. I turn my weapon toward it in reflex and blast off a few rounds. The figure moves closer and raises its hands up to its face. I fire off a few more rounds and the blanks flash out in a glorious sound of victory. The dark figure turns out to be one of our own. Just a combat camera man. He snaps a few action shots of me and shoots me a thumbs up. He then turns the camera to the exiting soldiers. I think a few of them flex their biceps as they passed. I shake my head in frustration. Fuckin’ A… Another training exercise. Can’t I just sleep in? ", "There is something inside me. I can feel it every time I breathe or speak and every time I walk or move. It is strange and hard, just in the center of myself, in my flesh. \n\nSome nights, when I am laying in my bed, if I concentrate hard enough, if I don't close my eyes and I don't think of anything at all, I can hear it moving, inching its way from my chest to my head and then back again. My theory is that it is looking for something. Up and down. Up and down. And then up again. Touching my lungs and heart and brain. And whatever it is, it is looking for, it hasn't found it yet. \n\nIt began about a week ago, in the supermarket, me with a box of eggs in my hands. Then there was the flash of light, yellow and pink, and the sting. Then there was the memory loss and the questions. Why did I throw the eggs to the floor? Why was I crying and beating my chest? But I didn't know how to answer, I had a void in my mind. I couldn't remember what had happened. I saw the worried supermarket attendant and the broken eggs on the floor and I just said that I was okay, that there was nothing to be worried about. And when she turned her back to me, and went away to look for a mop to clean the mess, I ran away and left the store. \n\nI think it is a worm or an insect like being with thousands of little legs. That would explain the stinging and itching that I feel all over my skin. \n\nI haven't eaten or drank water since Tuesday. I also bought a can of poison and I wash my head and my chest with it. I am attacking it from the outside. If I am correct, it will be dead in two more days. \n", "“So what brings you in here today?” the man asked me.\n\n“Well,” I said, “For as long as I can remember, I’ve always followed a strict routine.\n\nAt night, I set three alarms on my phone. One sounds like birds chirping. That’s to ease me from my slumber. The next alarm hums quietly--like the sound of a neighbor mowing his lawn on a lazy Sunday. The final alarm is a blaring klaxon. I hate it, but otherwise I’d never get my ass out of bed.\n\nFuck breakfast. I rip bong a few times and then watch daytime television. Or porn. If I have money, I’ll snort coke. Preferably off of a hooker. If she starts crying, I drive her out to the desert, spray barbecue sauce on that bitch and then drive off, howling at my coyotes. \n\nOr sometimes I stay at home playing Warcraft and sending out phishing emails from my neighbor’s WiFi.\n\nBut today was different.\n\nAfter a strange dream involving a race between the NASDAQ and a Tyrannosaurus Rex covered in feathery heroin-needles, I woke up in the AM. That’s before noon, bitches.\n\nFor some strange reason, I felt like brushing my teeth. Fifteen minutes later, I unearthed a toothbrush from the back of my bathroom drawer. And a rock-hard tube of Colgate.\n\nSo fresh. I felt so fresh and so clean. It was like blowing smoke rings with a menthol. A magical feeling. I brushed vertically. Why had I gotten out of the habit? I brushed horizontally. This was fun. I brushed skizz-skazz. Tee-hee. What a sensation. I brushed the roof of my mouth. It tickled. I laughed. I brushed my tongue. Towards the back of my throat. I gagged. Blaggghhhh!.\n\nFuck that. I threw my toothbrush away. Never doing that shit again.\n\nBut then I felt something.\n\nSomething in the aged chemicals of that Colgate tube had re-ignited my desire for food. Not just calories--the kind you get from a Jack ‘n Coke. But real food. With grease and ketchup and shit.\n\nI microwaved an egg. It didn’t work. ‘Fuck it, my microwave’s old’ I told myself. I decided to get a new one.\n\nI slurped up the remains of the egg. Juicy. I chased it with a wasabi packet. I’m responsible like that.\n\nResponsible. ‘That’s a hell of a word,’ I thought to myself. ‘It has connotations of badassery. And manhood.’\n\nI had never before made that connection. But somehow it seemed right.\n\nI wanted to be responsible. That would be cool as shit.\n\nIt was time for me to get a job.\n\nI looked up some sample resumes on the Google. One looked pretty good to me. That guy had gone to Harvard.\n\nI erased his pansy-ass ‘Kurtis Vonnegut Jr.’ name and typed in my own. ‘J-Cool the Fuckstick’.\n\nI printed that shit out on my neighbor’s home printer. Wirelessly. I got tech skills like that.\n\nAnyway. Unfortunately, owing to a disagreement I’d had with my neighbor last month, all of his printer paper had a full-size color picture of my ass. Printed on best quality.\n\nAnd he hasn’t changed his ink yet, so that’s why my resume’s a little faded. And I woulda thought that he would have new paper by now. I only printed like 200 pages. And that was like three weeks ago. So I guess that boy don’t print too much.\n\nSo yeah. That explains why my ass is on the back of the resume. And why the letters and words is all faded on the front.\n\n“So,” the man said to me, “You’re looking for a job as an investment banking analyst?”\n\n“Fuck yeah,” I said, “Can you hook a brother up?”\n\nI passed the mirror across the table to the man. He snorted a line of coke through a Benjamin.\n\nHe leaned back in his chair, eyes widening, nostrils dilating. He sniffled.\n\n“Fuck that’s good,” he said.\n\nI grinned at him. Showed him the grill.\n\n“You’re hired,” he said.\n\nWe shook hands and made bank. I never brushed my teeth again. Diamonds, bitch.", "The sun comes up as I look in the mirror, brushing my teeth. The taste of toothpaste is a refreshing change from the putrid taste in my mouth from the night before. I spit, missing the sink.\n\nThat's ok, I can clean it up later.\n\nMy clothes come off as I turn on the shower. The warm water running down my shoulders as I fight every ounce of my being to stay awake. Nothing puts me to sleep more than a warm shower.\n\nAfter a solid 15 minutes of bliss I climb out and put on some clean clothes just as the sun is coming up.\n\nI wanted to leave a friend a message for when he woke up. I searched my contacts, finding \"Benben\". \n\nMy fingers glide over the screen as my eyes fight to stay open. \n\n\"F-U-C...\" my head drops and I startle myself awake.\n\n\"K- - Y-O-U- -O-P\" Enter\n\nI lay my head on my pillow as I drift peacefully off to sleep.\n" ]	11
	[WP] You are a stay-at-home parent to a super-powered child. Your superhero spouse spends all day saving the world. Write your exasperated post to /r/parenting detailing your unique frustrations.	[ "Everyone in a marriage either marries up or marries down. I'm a 43 year old man who married down. My wife, Laura, is the modern day Wonder Woman. Most of my guy friends think I married up, but they don't see the truth. They don't see that our 11 year old doesn't listen to me. Ever since she reached the \"terrible two\" stage, she's been defiant. It wasn't that she was super-strong or fast but she is brilliant. She is telekinetic. \n\nIn the life of a stay at home dad I have to do the chores, cook the meals, the whole nine. My friends are all CEO's and partners at their own law firms. I went to the Cox School of Business for god sake! I could be ten thousand times more of a productive member in society. I could have been someone. Done something. But I love her. So I clean the house and cook the meals and take care of little Becca. Laura always brings home something unique and valuable from her travels.\n\nWe're paid in gratitude from the community. You think I ever have to pay for groceries or anything at our local Walgreens? No. Never. But how would that make you feel? Receiving everything you could want from someone else's merit. It makes you feel worthless. Like you feel into something that you don't deserve. We were young. Reckless. She was quiet and shy. No one would have ever guessed she was super, hell she even wore a mask. Now she doesn't. Everyone knows her. Everyone knows me. Our family. We get no privacy. \n\nYou think North West has a rough life? Wait until you look at Becca's life. Her mom is a super hero. She keeps people like North West out of harms way, everyone out of harms way, but always come home. Now I've said I love her but am I holding her back or is she holding me back? What if she had never married me? We had never had a family? Would anyone know who she was? The only reason she's famous is because of me. I pushed it on her. I had to quit my job and no one understood. How could they? She didn't work and I quit a six-fiqure job trading Gold and Silver futures to look after a child? It was for me. I hate myself for that everyday. I just hope she doesn't. Who knows when she's actually saving the world. She could have anyone she wanted. I'm always worried but always trust her. \n\nI've complained enough, you see, through all the hard time, through all the craziness of my life she's still the love of my life and it will never change. Becca was the best crisis my wife could never fix. ", "Ok Reddit, I'm sooooo fucking done. Jimmy's fourteen now, but he's a fucking mess. I swear to god if I cook ONE more meal and he vaporizes his food I'm going to lose it. Even If I yell at him, his self-righteous mother storms the room and starts feeding me the same bullshit lecture. \"It's his right to have his powers\" and \"you can't yell at him for being himself!\" \nLike FUCK Lorraine, can't you see you're not helping? I swear though, sometimes her superhuman speed translates into superhuman bitching. I'm beginning to worry about Jim though, he's always staying out late, sometimes coming home with his uniform in tatters and ALWAYS the next day there's some unaccounted for murder on the news. I hope he's not turning into some supervillaine out of some comic book; as much as he pisses me off he's my son and I love him to death. But here I am, sitting at my desk, three beers gone and a couple on the way with the kid losing it and his mom flipping her shit at me over speaker phone. I don't care that much about leaving the empties on the counter when we're out of garbage bags honey, and Jim I don't give a shit about where your extra pair of heat proof jeans went. ", "\"Breakfast is ready!,\" I shouted from downstairs, 8 eggs frying on the pan and bacon perfectly dispersing it's porky-woody smoke, throughout the house, at the counter adjacent to me. \"John is definitely going to love this batch,\" I thought.\n\nA minute later, I hear a series of loud, pounding metal sound vibrating off our stairs. \"Quit running John, you're going to wake up your Mother!\" I yelled over my soft shoulders. Suddenly, I feel a soft brush of air below me. I glanced down from my shoulders. There he is standing beside my hip. Looking up at me is this beautiful 9-yr old kid with shiny black wavy hair and soft plushy cheeks, his brown iris' sparkling into a million kaleidoscopic shards from the sun entering the fragile window. Just from one look, you would never believe it. He's the fastest person alive. \n\n30 minutes later, my wife woke from her sweet slumber. I hear the running of the faucet and stomping of her feet above me. 20 minutes later, leaning under the archway to the kitchen, my wife of 2 children. Her brown hair shimmering from the sunlight coming from the window above her. You can see the dust floating and falling on top of her head. Her sweet soft lips creased by her smile. And her eyes softly squinting as she does it. The glow of the lime green wall complimenting her sweet white skin. \"This woman is beautiful,\" I thought, \"I'm the luckiest man alive.\" The story of how we met, never fails to make me laugh. Like my son, she's not what you think she is. This delicate, small framed pregnant women could never be the same person who snapped the Eiffel tower like a twig and used it as a weapon against \"Titan\"? I agree, she did receive a lot of publicity about that. \n\n\"Honey, I love you!\" she says, sitting adjacent from the table. \"Yah, Daddy, I love you too,\" John followed sincerely. I promised to never shed a tear in front of them, because it would make her worry. But on that fine perfect morning I broke it. \n\nAfter breakfast, she flew-off to work. And after flying in a straight 45 degree angle, her suitcase suddenly opens, pieces of white-paper scatters throughout the air. Of course, she picks all of the pieces in the blink of an eye. And before you knew it she is barely visible. You could just feel the level of her strong and \"lovey\" dexterity. ;) \n\nI was dropping off John when suddenly I feel my car rise from the ground. John already disappeared-off to get his mother. I looked outside the driver seat window. I suddenly found myself 300 feet above the ground, suspended by a large magnet strapped to a giant robot's arm. The size of it's rusty-green torso indicates that \"Dr. Destroyer\" is fiddling inside. The awkward length of it's legs made me wonder how this thing was able to, run, let alone stand. \n\nI suddenly woke up from the erratic shaking of the car. I shuffled to find the closest thing I could hold on to. I latched unto the gear stick. Seconds later the shaking intensifies, I lose my grip. Just when I start fumbling around the car, the driver side door suddenly unlatched. I fall out of the driver side door. However, I catch the last bit of the driver side of the window. Now, I was panicking! I averted my eyes from looking down. My belt-buckle unfastened and I can feel it slowly sinking down my feet. The shaking was more intense. I eventually lose my grip. I fell, of what seemed like an eternity, from three feet above the ground. Seeing how humiliating this situation is, I tried to hold in my grin. I looked around to grasp where or what this strange location I was dropped in. Where am I-200 miles away from town? I realize I am in the middle of Talackachumia Desert. I hear nimble footsteps approaching behind me. I turned around and see this strange figure nearing me. He is wearing a dirty white lab coat with green and red chemical stains. He is owning a wild, frizzy red hair that are darting in all corners, and his bushy white eyebrows is indicating that this fellow is mental. He is well-known for his bad brown-yellow teeth and thick glasses. Meet my friend, \"Dr. Destroyer.\" You see, 15x or more a year, Dr. Destroyer picks me up at a unsuspecting location; sometimes at a bar, my house, or occasionally a run to the mail just to solicit an angry response from my wife. Apparently, she hurt his feelings and now he's bent on killing me, it never has never worked, though. He swings his pliers, and knocks me unconscious. \n\nI wake up in a dark room with flashing red lights. My hands and feet are bound. I am in some kind of interrogation room. I take a deep breath. \"I've experienced worse,\" I think to myself, \"any time now, my wife and son, will bust me out of this mediocre-looking confinement, 2 hours before dinner-time.\" \n", "Look, it wasn't supposed to be like this. I'm the genius inventor, I created the serum, the nanotech, and the cybernetic containment systems. Sarah was a lawyer, for crissake. But it turned out I was allergic to the nanites, and somehow there was that cleaning mishap in the basement, and Sarah ended up infected. I tried to remove them, but they'd already fully integrated. Of course, I've always worked from home, but when Sarah went from being a prosecutor to being \"The Judge\", well... I tried to talk her out of it, but, honestly, it was mostly about the risk. Residuals from my patents brought in more than enough money, and we were able to afford private insurance. Life settled down. We were very worried about the effects of the nanites, especially when we managed to get pregnant, but somehow, it worked out. Christopher was born, and he seemed to be normal, as far as it went. No nanites in his blood. And Sarah, of course, recovered in hours, thanks to her enhancements. Able to run faster than most cars, reflexes that almost looked like precognition, stronger than any normal human, indestructible bones, and the ability to heal from anything short of atomization... sure, extreme heat could still kill her, but my wonderful wife wasn't going to be taken down by knives, gunfire, or explosives. And as soon as Chris was able to survive for a few hours without nursing, she was back on the street, beating down miscreants and saving lives. Leaving me, the man who invented the practical solar desalination process, the man who perfected lab-grown beef, at home changing diapers.\n\nBut that's not when the shit hit the fan. Or rather, went through the fan, and the wall, and everything else. See, it turns out that Chris wasn't so much nanite free, as he was fully integrated. I mean, I guess it made sense. They were designed to couple with cells, and they replicated in a manner much like mitosis. But I'd never anticipated them integrating with germ cells like a new kind of inorganic mitochondria, and I certainly wasn't prepared for a kid whose every cell was capable of ... well, superhuman feats. But that's what I'm dealing with, and I'm going to have to find a way to put these nanites into standby really soon, because Chris is starting to teeth...", "Title: Any SAHSDs out there understand what I'm going through? (self.parenting) \nsubmitted 3 hours ago by GammaRayDad_Throwaway to /r/parenting \nBody: Sorry for this but I just have to vent to someone. I'm married to a girl who turned out to be one of the Galactic Rangers - well, the Extended Galactic Rangers. I won't say which one (please don't ask), but it's not one of the Guardian Nine obviously or you'd know who I was. You won't see her in the Daily Looker or on the front page of /r/supernews but she still saves a lot of lives. And yeah I'm proud of her and everything but I feel like my world is collapsing around me since our kid turned 2.\n\nHere's the thing: she knew about my powers from the beginning, but I didn't know about hers until almost a year into our marriage. That was a pretty big surprise. As a super myself I figured I'd be off saving the world while she took care of the kids. When we finally did our taxes together for the first time I realized: she was getting money from the government, and from the same department as me. And she was getting more than me. I understand, her powers are somewhat more impressive when it comes to crimefighting. Me, I dunno. I guess sanitation, green energy... third world according to /r/Futurology I'll be in big demand when the future comes. If it ever comes.\n\nSo yeah, I mean, the positive side is that the sex turned amazing. Two supers instead of one sounds like double the fun but bug summoning powers aren't exactly a good time in bed. So it was like twenty times as fun to when I found out about hers.\n\nThe negative side is that our kid got a power that isn't much like mine. He can switch places with anything green that he can see. Yeah. Fun, right? Now he swaps himself into the fridge the last second before I close it and starts eating the butter. I find a chunk of the neighbor's lawn in his crib basically all the time. I keep the curtains closed and keep nothing green in the house but if they open for even a second he's gone.\n\nOnce it was a green car that drove past. He was in the tub at the time. Had to get the wife to fix that one. After I flooded the street with spiders to stop the oncoming cars from running him over, that is.\n\nGod help me I love him, but every time I gotta go pick him up from outside and bring him back in I think I'm gonna just hold my hand over his eyes until his mom gets home. Which I have done before. He screamed and screamed but I just couldn't go chasing after him again. And it's not like I can just call on my wife every time. My wife's powers can stop him but damn.. she earns so much more money than I would. It has to be me at home.\n\nI go to a few groups every week but one in particular is for supers (thank god - the organizer's a mesmer and the kids love her illusionary puppet shows and story time) I made the mistake of complaining there. One of the moms there talked to me in the most patronizing voice about how I should be finding a way to use my powers to solve my problems and how some parents of super kids didn't even have powers and still manage. But her kid is made of fucking metal and she has magnet powers. It's like, are you fucking kidding me? Shut up you asshole, you won the kid lottery. But she went on and on about how good her kid was. Like she wasn't basically moving his body for him. Poor kid is never going to learn to do anything without her. I was this close to spawning a cockroach in her ear.\n\nAnyway, I feel like if I have to keep living like this I'm going to lose it and just tape over his eyes. Does it get better when they can understand consequences or entertain themselves with other kids? Just please tell me it gets better.", "Fun activities for my super-powered daughter? (self.parenting)\nSubmitted 9 hours ago by superdad\n\nMy daughter just turned 3. I am a stay-at-hope parent. So far she has the sonic scream, can fly, has super-strength and super-speed. We spend a lot of time outside because she tends to break things inside. Does anyone have any ideas of fun and safe activities we can do together? Or play groups for children with similar abilities? Also, now that she can fly higher, I'm worried she's going to fly away. I was looking into harnesses. Does anyone have any recommendations? Thanks to all!\n\n\n\nHelp! My super-powered daughter has just turned green (self.parenting) Submitted 6 months ago by superdad\n\nI posted here before. My daughter is two and a half and has various super powers. I woke up this morning to take her flying only to find that she was all green! (link to pictures) My wife is away. Who should I see about this? A doctor friend was baffled. \n\nEDIT 1: No, she has no anger issues. \n\nEDIT 2: Some of you say it happens sometimes and that I should wait a bit. \n\nEDIT 3: Ok, it seems to be fading now. All back to normal, I guess.\n\n\n\nAny parents have experience with super-powered children? (self.parenting) \nSubmitted 1 year ago by superdad\n\nI am 32, married, with one child who has just turned two. My wife and I decided that I would stay home with our daughter and that she would continue working. I was working in tech support at Watchtower, while she has a prominent position in the Justice League, so it made sense that I be the full-time parent. \n\nAbout a month ago, daughter started displaying super powers. My wife is frequently away and I have no one to speak to about this. Has anyone had a similar experience? How can I help my daughter's talents? What about safety? \n\nEDIT: Wow, thanks for the support guys! I had no idea this was such a common occurrence. To those asking, so far she's showing super strength, super speed, and she also hovers for a bit, so maybe also flying (fingers crossed). " ]	6
	[WP]Your caught running naked in a supermarket and have 30 seconds to convince the police you're not insane. What's your story?	[ "\"Uh, hey officer, I, uh, I know this looks bad but I, uh, I have a, uh, legit excuse. I mean, I know this is the fourth time this week but I swear this time it's not just bullshit,\" I stammered.\n\nOfficer Rosenberg raised his hand to his forehead and sighed. He didn't even have to look at my sweaty, pudgy body to know I wasn't a physical threat in that moment.\n\n\"You know what, son? I'm going to give you thirty seconds to tell me why I shouldn't take you down to the station. Again. For this fourth time this week.\"\n\nI knew this was a tale that would take longer than thirty minutes to tell, but my anal virginity was quite potentially at stake here. You don't just get arrested for public nudity four times and not serve a wee bit of time.\n\n\"Uh, when does my time start?\"\n\n\"Started.\"\n\n\"Oh, fuck, I uh... basically officer, the tl;dr of the situation is that I... am...\"\n\nShit, how the hell do I tl;dr this epic saga? If only he knew my situation, the quest I was on, the task that I was entrusted by the council of ancients before being sent to the past in order to ensure the safe passage of the Infinite Vessel from this very supermarket to the inescapable depths of the Nether Cave. If only he knew he was my great-grandfather. I'd have told him before, but information this sensitive being released could be detrimental to my cause. Only now I face prison showers. So much to know, so little time to explain.\n\n\"Gumballs,\" was the first thing that came out of my mouth. It was followed by a little bit of nervous vomit. It really made me question my position as saviour of the universe, tbh.\n\nMy great-grandfather sighed once more, reaching for his handcuffs and stepping towards me.\n\n\"You could have tried harder than that, son,\" he said to me, placing the cuffs on my wrists and escorting me to his car.\n\n\"I know,\" I sighed. Or at least I would have if I didn't vomit again instead.\n\n\"Sorry,\" I said, with my eyes at least. I would have said it with my mouth but vomit and stuff.\n\n", "\"Officer, I know what this looks like.\"\n\nThe officer did know what it looked like. It looked like I was naked and had a raging erection. It also looked like I was sprawled on top of some unfortunate produce and may or may not have been defiling a melon. I can assure that while the melon was a sweetheart, it was not my type. \n\n\n\"You have thirty seconds to explain yourself son. Because I'll be honest chasing you through a supermarket was not my idea of a good time.\" The kind officer said while attempting not to strangle me.\n\n\nThirty seconds was hardly a fair amount of time. But it actually worked out since thirty seconds is the exact amount of time I had to waste before I would need to save everyone's life. \n\n\n\n\"What if I told you that in exactly thirty seconds we are going to be attacked by an alien race, whose only weakness is the power of a specific song? What if I told you that I had been sent back in time to this exact moment to prevent it. Although I must admit the agency picked a rather poor time to get me, as I was in the middle of a game of naked tag with my partner and... \"\n\n\n\nThe nice cop began to unsling his hand cuffs. \n\n\n\"Wait I still have twenty seconds!\" I shouted.\n\n\n\n\"Fifteen now son, and I expect to use five of those to cuff you.\"\n\n\n\nI took a deep breath and began to do the only thing I could do. I had ten seconds to save the earth. \n\n\n\n\"You're name is Douglas MacKenzie, you live at 1112 Delilah street. You had a stuffed bear that you carried with you until you were 12. You still keep that bear and hope someday to give it to your son. You tell everyone your favorite movie is Casablanca but when you are being honest you have to admit that it is actually Brothers Solomon. Will Arnett gets you every time. When the first earthquake hits, start singing along with me. It's our only chance!\"\n\n\n\nHe was a good man. His slack jaw with hardly an asset or a detriment to his character. The other cops on the scene looked equally aghast, although I could hardly speak to their moral fiber. Officer MacKenzie took one step and then another. Emotions conflicted across his face as the thirty seconds ran out. I hoped to god this would work. \n\n\n\nThe earth shook around us at the supermarket. Melons and fine vegetables rained down from the shelves. I took a deep breath, it was now or never. If we didn't stop the scourge before they multiplied then all was lost. \n\n\n\n\"You might want to get on your megaphone. It's very important.\"\n\n\n\nAnother quake hit and he looked at me nervously, disbelief and incredulity at war on his expression. As the third rocked the supermarket and steam shot up from fissures all around us he nodded his head in understanding. I knew he would get it. \n\n\n\n\"You have so many relationships in this life\nOnly one or two will last\nYou're going to all this pain and strife\nThen you turn your back and they're gone so fast\nAnd they're gone so fast\nSo hold one to the ones who really care\nIn the end they'll will be the only ones there\nWhen you get old and start losing your hair\nCan you tell me who will still care\nCan you tell me who will still care\n\n\nThey began to join in. Hesitant at first. But growing in number as we reached the critical chorus.\n\n\n\nMmmm bop, ba duba dop\nBa du bop, ba duba dop\nBa du bop, ba duba dop\nBa du yeah yeah.\"\n\n\nStanding naked in the supermarket, singing the song of our people. I knew that this time around, humanity might stand a chance after all. In Mmmbop I trust. ", "\"Insanity is defined as doing the same thing over and over and this is my first time and therefore i am not insane,\" you immediately blurted out. \n\nThe police officer rubbed his temples and sighed. \n\n\"Look kid, I have no time for this, I can still charge you for public indecency.\" \n\nOh damn, you never thought of that. Oh well, time to tell him what you're really here for. \n\nYou smiled, putting on your best know-it-all voice, \"Do you not notice that I am standing at the entrance of a way-too-large supermarket? Most people don't venturing into unknown places, so they grab what's here and leave. And frankly the stuff near the doors are way too expensive. I am doing a public service sir, by scaring them away from this area.\"\n\n\"You got another ten seconds before I put on the cuffs.\"\n\n\"Chips at the back for half the price here.\"\n\n\"I can get there myself, son.\"\n\n\"You sure you can?\"\n\nThe officer paused. The crazy naked man was right. This place was the supermarket equivalent of IKEA and he had heard one too many horror stories. \n\nHis eyes narrowed. \n\n\"What flavour are the chips?\"\n\n\"Salt-and-pepper.\"\n\n\"Put on some clothes and take me there.\"", "Holy Fuck the acid just kicked in huh. Did not plan on having this pit stop on the road trip. Oh Jesus this is not the way to get one with the universe. Alright let's do this. Brain don't Fuck me here.\n\n\"Oh thank God officer...yes...no I'm sorry but...I know but....please I can explain. Yes. You see, I was with this girl last night. Yes. 24. Anyway she invites me over for drinks and I think she must drugged me cause I wake up nude tied to the bedpost. No sir I'd remember if I was conscious when she did it. So no one's there when I wake up and I struggle for a while and after an hour this big Ukrainian guy comes in and starts screaming some commie crap, and I start flipping out. Guy pulls a gun, unites, rebinds My hands and throws me in a van. Still stark naked. Yes. It was very uncomfortable. Anyway, through the bag on my head- What? Burlap I think. I see traffic stopped and the door handle is on the inside. I open the door and Sprint out. What? I was able to kick it open. I don't know what to say I played soccer. I have been described as nimble. Then I ran toward the most populated place I could think of.\"\n\nOh God is that a Fucking genie coming out of his ear. I miss you robin Williams. No way. Holy shit they pulled through they're coming back for me. My bros pulled through, rescue on the way! One cruiser in the way let's do this.\n\n\"Yes sir. No I can't. I can't give a statement. Or descriptions no. Well she had a nice ass. Also I'm tripping on acid. No I wasnt slipped acid, took it of my own free will. Yes I realize it's illegal. I also lied. Everything. Yes blatantly. At least a light felony I'm aware. I would love to, but my magic carpet is here.\"\n\nI dash down the yellow brick road and catapult myself, cock and balls swinging through the air like a majestic pendulum, right down the rabbit hole. I spin around hand cocked high for the ensuing high fives all around.\n\nMother fucker.\n\nThis is a school bus.\n", "They had finally cornered me. Those vile swine. I had taken several pills of X about an hour or two before-hand. In some frenzied, near manic state, I had ended up in the bakery of my local Kroger browsing for bread. I spotted some fresh marble-rye and in a state of excitement, I stripped down to my birthday suit, as any sane man on X would do upon finding the perfect loaf of marble-rye, and I began prancing around the store, as if I were some hyped up Jackal on cocaine, screaming at the top of my lungs, “Freedom for the Democrat Assembly of the U.S.S.R.!” For a while, I thought I was invisible, unknown to the naked eye of man, but I soon realized that I was sorely mistaken when I felt a prick in my back and shortly thereafter began convulsing in the dairy aisle to the tune of fifty-thousand volts pulsating through my body. It was a grand spectacle. \n\nAfter my tendons quit twitching and I attempted to wipe the drool off of my beard with a carton of eggs[my hands were cuffed behind my back], I kindly explained to the vile, depraved swine that I was part of a peaceful protest protesting the usage of animal fat in lard. They didn’t believe me. The most vile of the swine, Officer Ricardo, said, “Son, you’re pupils are dilated to the size of the moon, and you’re sweatin’ like a whore in Sunday Mass.” That bastard had me pinned down. He knew what I was, but the other’s didn’t. Surely, they couldn’t be aware of who they were dealing with? What I was? In some fantastically miraculous turn of events, I spotted not one, not two, but four white women dressed from head to toe in hemp, two of them sporting dreads. They were eyeing the soymilk. Accompanied by my quick wit, I began chanting, “People for the ethical treatment of animals! Meat is Murder! Meat is murder!”. It started off quietly, but then it grew in numbers...four to be exact. It was a movement. These swine couldn’t cart me off now. There were witnesses to my bravery. I was now a martyr for a noble cause. They had no other choice, but to release me into the custody of those four strange, smelly women. It was the beginning of a great fling. Julia was her name. \n\nEDIT: typos/ grammar " ]	5
	[WP] You rescue someone who nearly dies, only to find he is a clone of you.	[ "I knocked my sunglasses down to the tip of my nose, and she did the same. Same eyes, same hair, same height...and based off of that brief sentence I heard from her, we have a near identical voice, too.\n\nBefore a very disturbing thought could cross my mind, she pointed at my jacket's sleeve. \"Can I see your wrist?\" she requested as my voice was hiding in the darkest corner of my throat. I did as she asked without hesitance, revealing a series of scars made from an accident in the kitchen. As I showed it to her, her arm, with an identical pattern, posted up next to it.\n\nAt first, we were both in wide-eyed horror as questions rained onto my brain. Two Nicks? How did this happen? What kind of insanity was this? More importantly, what was Maya going to say when she found out? Does she have a Maya?!\n\nThen, horror became curiosity. Two of us meant that we could be in two places at the same time. Two heads to work in a single area. Two people to live a single life. Two duplicates to work one project. That writing career might finally be able to take off after all. If not that, then art, music, online fame, anything that we could put our minds into. We didn't even need to work hard on a friendship because we loved who we were.\n\nWith her, both of us half-assing it meant the result of one of us, which was plenty as is.\n\nWhen this final realization clicked in our heads, I felt a smile break out on my face and saw one on hers.\n\n\"Oh.\"\n\n\"Hell.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"", "I stared at him, trying to wrap my head around what was happening. He looked just like me. Same height, same haircut, same posture, same face. Every detail was the same, down to the scar just below my left eye. He didn't look like me. He was me. \n\n\"H-hi,\" we both said. ", "I held my breath and swam as fast as I could. I am not going to let her die. I pushed against the strong ocean currents and grabbed the drowning body. I threw her over my shoulder and heard her slowly breathing.\n\nI sighed, Now I have to get back. I closed my eyes and swam as fast and i could until my I could stand. I laid her down in a safe place, not bothering to look at her just yet. Apparently there wasn't a lifeguard apparently, so I got everyone out of the dangerous waters and turned back to her. I almost fainted. \n\nShe looked, exactly like me. I put my hand over my heart as it sped up rapidly. This can't be possible. This isn't right. I backed away from her like she was a monster. I wanted to leave her. Did I die in the water? I laughed hysterically. No, I thought, this isn't real. I had to be dreaming. I had to be.\n\nI heard gasps from the crowd and rolled my eyes, just what I needed. She had the same hair as me, freckles as me. Heck, she even had the same scars as me. This couldn't be possible. I began to cry frightened. I have to be going insane. She began to open up her eyes. I've always been told I had unique eyes, but this was like a copy of me. It was like looking into a mirror. \n\nShe started to sit up, unaware that I was there. I couldn't let her see him. I acted quickly and thought of the most rational thing that a person would do. I threw sand into her eyes and ran away screaming. Scared that she would kill me or something.\n " ]	3
	[WP] Every New Year's Eve, at the stroke of midnight, you find yourself at a random year throughout human history. How do you prepare yourself for the next time jump?	[ "Another year come and gone. Another year of uncertainty, fear, and adventure. Another year survived. Drake sat in the corner of a tiny hole in the wall bar, buried in the urban jungle. He had come to appreciate places like this, the type where people enjoyed their solitude. The air may be musty and the beer stale but at least he was left in peace.\n\nDrake’s fingers drummed incessantly on the table and his leg bounced in anticipation. He took a long, deep breath and barely registered the dank air, hints of urine and vomit wafting from the faded bathroom door. The small TV was blaring in the corner, people dancing in the street, headlines of ‘Happy New Year!’ and ‘Goodbye 2014!’ flashed across the screen. \n\nThe anticipation was building much faster now. He checked his watch again; twenty more minutes. Drake took another deep breath. The source of his dread popped into his head once again, ‘where will I be tomorrow?’ or perhaps the more appropriate question would be ‘when?’\n\nFor nearly seventeen years the impossible had been happening to Drake, every year, on the stroke of midnight, New Year’s Day. Once the clock struck his world would go black and he would awaken far away and in another time. His body and mind were always the same but any material items he had with him would vanish, leaving him naked, confused, and almost always in danger. His mind drifted to the very first time he had jumped. He had been only a teenager at the time, fresh out of junior high. It was 1981 and his only worries had been his Trans Am and women. He never could have been prepared for his future. One minute he had been searching for Heather Brown to steal a quick smooch, the next he found himself naked in the mud, a road next to a large field. It was not long before a column of men dressed in armor and helmets, red capes flowing behind them were marching towards him, a soft clank with every step. He could have laughed had he not been petrified with fear.\n\nDrake spent that first adventure as a slave of Rome. He looked back now and considered himself lucky. Learning Latin had not been particularly easy but the ability to read and write made him a vital asset to his master. Better than being fodder for the wars. The year went by painfully and slowly but ended similarly to the year before. However this time he found himself sailing across the Atlantic in search of gold with an insane Spaniard and his small band of mercenaries. \n\nDrake had fought in Napoleon’s army, revolted against an American corporate oligarchy, survived prehistoric giants, hit on a Russian princess, visited the moon, and heard the teachings of Aristotle. He had seen history long past and stories yet to be made. A small smile crept slowly across his face. Yes he was nervous, he feared the unknown and there was no telling where he may pop up or if he would survive to see another year, but he knew deep in his soul that he would not change a single thing. He checked his watch one last time, closed his eyes, and took a slow breath. His world went black.\n", "31 December 1977 - New York City\n\nThis has been my thirtieth year, and so far it has been the most mundane. I don't recall much of my childhood; there are vague memories of growing up on a farm somewhere, somewhen. A mental institution in Chicago near a meatpacking neighbourhood. They thought I was mad when I went to sleep in an ancient Chinese settlement one night and woke up in Gilded Age America the next. I remember most fondly the year I helped my father raise cattle in Africa somewhere before any Europeans had come.\n\nI first realised that I jumped when I was in my early adolescence. The memories I had were vague, scattered across a globe I knew nothing about. Then I woke up in Stockholm in 2005, and discovered what the internet was, what early 21st-Century technology could provide me. I read voraciously, researching what my memories meant. And then I went to sleep one night and woke up in South America, a member of the Inca tribe in what you would call Chile.\n\nThe furthest forward I've ever been was 2026. This was the second time I'd had internet access, digital encyclopaedias, the knowledge of the past at my fingertips. I learned as much as possible, how to read the environment I was in to gauge my place and time. All I can bring with me are my memories and my knowledge; everything I own disappears, replaced by a new life's worth of possessions. I speak fifty-five languages now, but many of them are extinct. I have sat through lectures in schools that I knew first-hand were wrong, but learned to hold my tongue.\n\nI've never met... myself. There were times where I've overlapped with a past-lived life but I've never had the courage or the desire to see what happens after I leave a life. Do they know that I've been them, lived for them, for a year? I can't decide one way or the other, but I am afraid to know. Both possibilities give me comfort and fear at the same time, and to know for sure... I don't think I'm ready for that.\n\nI once lived in a time that pre-dated the written word. That was my 21st year, and I was a hunter-gatherer in ancient Europe, most likely France. I had the knowledge to make hand tools far beyond the technology of the time, but I also had the discipline to resist that temptation. That was a tough year; it was bitterly cold, though I suspect not during a proper Ice Age. Many of my tribe died, and I was the only one bringing in food: animals I later learned were Aurochs. They were dangerous, enormous beasts, but one was sufficient to sustain us for weeks.\n\nThis go-around, as I've said, was the most mundane. I worked in a Bronx grocery store as a cashier, earning a small living and reading more of history. I wonder if I'll ever be someone famous, or important. I never know what happens to the people whose life I've lived, but I've started a project each year if it's applicable. Tonight is my night off, so I've collected all the notes and papers I've written for this person: financials, important events, the people I've met. (I once married a milkmaid from a neighbouring village in Kazakhstan in the 1100s; I wonder how surprised he was when he woke up!) A summary of everything I've done that year, and things that person should know. This is the fifth time I've been able to do this.\n\nBut you know what? Mundane is good. I enjoyed living your life, and I hope that you do as well. It's certainly better than a year in the trenches in Belgium, and even better than my year as a Japanese nobleman (that was a stressful year). I've seen things I never would have before, and for the first time in my life (lives?), I've had a steady job in a Technology Age First World major metropolis.\n\nIt's almost midnight now; I'm watching the ball drop on the black-and-white television in your apartment. Your mother passed away in March, and I think about her every day. Your lovelife has been better-than-average, but no pregnancies or huge breakups. The red envelope is a detailed list of income and expenditures for the year; I've managed to set up a small investment portfolio with a few good stocks to hang on to. I may have already met you, and I may meet you again someday, but you'll probably never know it. Time is a fascination for everyone of any point in history, if that's a comfort, and doubly so for me. Good luck to you, and I hope I've done well.\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] A story about you trying to convince me to write a writing prompt.	[ "Writing a story about writing a story seems trite and lazy, but is in practice quite the task. When pen is put to pad, taps to text, quill to parchment, pencil to paper, an amazing thing happens. Suddenly, slowly, it happens at different times for different reasons, or for no reason at all. When it happens, the impossible becomes possible, the fantasic turns mundane, and the insignificant becomes legendary. In the unique magic of the written word, the writer becomes a god. Lives are created and destroyed on a whim, with the consequences that are defined as they are indefinate.\nIf only for you, if for no one, if only for the very words themselves. Words are worthless and priceless in a duality that mirrors nature itself and lives with us and die without. \nDo not be afraid, for the power of the 'verse is in you. Use it well!", "You know what is better then writing a story that you visioned?\n\nWriting a story to help someone else visualize theirs.\n\nA writing prompt is not only just writing to have fun, but also to learn, to inspire. A simple sentence can mean many stories through different perspectives and ideas, endless trails of thought that was brought though by the simple mind of people.\n\nAt first, you might be a little bit shaky. But overtime, you learn how much it brings to voice out the knowledge and creativity you shed through your writing. The joy it brings.\n\nThe prompter, he smiles because someone has written something for them, and they mean what they put into this small bracket. A full fledged story, just through a simple thought someone wanted to put into words. That they can enjoy reading, and learn from it.\n\nThe writer, he smiles because he was able to write what he wanted, he was able to show the others what he had to say. No matter whether what he wrote was well liked or not, he knows that at least he was able to write it.\n\nAnd last but not least, the viewer, this is the most important. The viewer can be both, a writer and/or a prompter, when he views these stories, a little thought always pops into their head without them knowing:\n\nWhat can I learn from this?\n\nCause no matter whether the story was good or not, people can learn from it, and knowledge is key in surviving in the writers world. We learn to interpret the little bits of knowledge that another writer has shown, the way they write or show their story, the details that they show with their character, the way it progresses, it moves.\n\nWe writers learn to adapt, and we want all of us to evolve, and that's why we write.\n\nA writing prompt isn't something we do just for the heck of it, a writing prompt is something that we want others to inspire from.\n\nA writing prompt isn't something we fight to reach the top for, it's something we do to help others climb.\n\nWe write, isn't because we should do.\n\nWe write, because we want to." ]	2
	[WP] You see everything in black and white until one day, to your surprise, you meet a girl who is in color.	[ "“Your eyes are amazing.”\n\n“Excuse me?” she said looking up from her knitting and clearly a bit startled.\n\n“Your eyes, I've never seen anything like them.” I couldn't believe what I was saying, but I’d never seen anything like her in my life.\n\nShe looked away at the fountain, blushing and trying to hide a smile. “Thank you. That’s very kind thing of you to say.”\n\n“Can I ask your name?”\n\n“You may.”\n\n“Her name is Sarah. And I’m Alice,” said a girl sitting beside her. She slide closer protectively. Her nose and hair were both very straight. “We’re just visiting for the weekend.”\n\nMy eyes stayed fixed on Sarah’s. There were no words to describe them, but they both terrified and fascinated me. I worried that she would look away again, but her eyes never moved and the corners of her mouth stayed even, like she was balancing a thought between them.\n\n“That’s peculiar,” I said, still fixated on her. “There’s a lot to pass through around here, not too much to visit though.”\n\n“We’re visiting her dad,” Alice said cutting in. “He’s has health issues and he moved out here recently because the dry air is better for lungs, so it’s really an emotional time for all of us.”\n\n“I’m sorry to hear to that,” I said. I waited a second for Sarah to say something, or more likely for Alice to cut in again. The moment hung in the air, like a ball just before it crosses the plate. Sarah wasn't just a girl and those eyes weren't just beautiful. For twenty-three years I’d been riding along the tracks, going to all the right places that everyone had told me about. And now, those eyes, this girl--this was finally my stop and those were the signs to get off. I felt the moment passing. It was swing or strike out. \n\n“This isn't appropriate, but would you want to go see Sunset Castle with me tonight? The theater here only shows one picture and I've seen it, but it’s a excellent film and I it might be important for you to see it.”\n\nI felt my heart drop like a hammer.\n\n“Did you really just try to pick up a girl whose dad is dying?” Alice scoffed. She stood up, and I thought for an instant that she was going to slap me. “This place is just crawling with class,” she said shaking her head. “Come on Sarah, let’s go.”\n\n“No.”\n\nBoth Alice and I looked at Sarah in surprise.\n\n“He’s not even my dad, he’s my step-dad,” she said turning towards Alice. “And fuck him. He’s an ass hole, and just because he smoke and drank himself into shit hole doesn't mean everyone gets to drag me down here every other weekend so that I can help pretend he didn't fuck everything up. I hate that fucking bastard and I haven’t seen Sunset Castle yet, but I've heard of it and it looks interesting.”\n\nSarah stood up and turned to me. Her eyes had changed. They were watery, but little roots that I’d never seen before had grown in from the sides.\n\n“Yes, I will go,” she said. “And I’m sorry, that was obscene.” She then held up the object she had been knitting and spread her arms out wide so that it stretched out horizontally. It was a scarf. “They’re elephants,” she said moving one end forward. “Do you like it?”\n\n“I do, but aren't those fish?” I replied. She lowered the scarf, revealing a small and beautiful smile. \n\nAlice bent her head around to look at the scarf and scrunched her straight nose in confusion, then stomped off alone.", "Colorblind does even begin to describe it. I don’t just not see some colors, I see only black and white or really in actuality I see grey on grey on grey an endless vision of grey so monotonous that stark white or true black are amazing to me. I’ve grown used to it. I have learned the colors that others see; memorizing such things, as it fascinates me. The sky is blue but so is that car, the grass is green and so are her eyes, it is wondrous and amazing but I have faced the facts that it is not for me to see. Still I find myself seeking …seeking …ever seeking wondering if ever it will happen. Wondering if the synapses of my brain will connect and the vision of color will be granted to me. \nA crew of us decides to take a break from college and stress and head to the park. The day is beautiful, sunny with a warmth that settles over my skin. It seems we are not the only ones driven to distraction by the tease of a nice day; the park has many people in it including a set of girls that have buckets of water balloons. The siren call of fun and hormones carries us across the park to say hello and quickly a water balloon fight begins. I am running to dodge a direct hit when I smack into a girl inadvertently. It is a hard hit that brings us both down. My head rings and everything spins. Shaking my head, I sit to see if she is ok finding that as my eyes fall on her she is no longer grey on grey on grey… she is in color. My perception of time freezes as I become aware of only her. She is vibrant, in shades of such variety that it transfixes me. Eventually the call of my friends to see if I am ok, the realization that nothing else has color, and even the sweet sound of her voice checking on me breaks through my reverie. Standing, I quickly toss out all options other than to stay and see this vision that could vanish near as quick as it came. I laugh with the others and head for a water balloon.\n\nI hold the grey thing in my hand and run as the others run but I see only her as I do. Sunshine, golden rays of sunshine stream down on her honey tanned skin as she flits about the grass barefoot with pink toenails. Turning on her heel to dash off in another direction, the chime of her laugh trails behind her along with her bouncing brown curls. I ready my aim and her skip, hop, and jump cannot save her from her fate as I release the water balloon in my hand and it sails through the air to connect with her body. I am spellbound to see the balloon turn red and burst upon her shoulder as she stands amid the field, mouth open on a squealed giggle of surprise, water falling in a splash of shimmering glitter that cascades down her body over breasts concealed just barely by tiny navy blue triangles of a bikini that darkens deeper in shade as the water soaks into the fabric. She is an array of vivid colors and life seems to beam out of her\n\nMy boys razz me for my clear fascination with her and soon I begin to notice that she flirts with me and only me. The game continues and I watch grey balloon after grey balloon take color when it connects with her… purple, red, green, blue I near pelt the girl with the entire bucket yet still she laughs and a time or two manages to get me in return. The game ends and I am frantic. I can’t lose her, I can’t lose this. My panicked mind explodes as she runs to me in unexpected candor, greeting me with a smile of white teeth and rose tinted lips holding no reserve. Sweet arms of soft tenderness wrap around me in spontaneity and I lose my grip on passivity to wrap my arms around her. I hold her. I hold this honey toned, brilliant, and bright girl as she holds me in return. I curl down to her height and she presses her rosy lips to my cheek. Her laughter of joy as she releases me shocks me to look back at her and I find her eyes are blue like the sky. She gives me her number, I text her in seconds, before we have even walked away. She calls me cute, we have a date and I will spend a lifetime wooing her but on Monday I am going to the doctors. ", "Alarm. Snooze. Alarm. Snooze. Alarm. Stop.\n\nWalk. Turn. Walk. Turn. Walk. Stop.\n\nMirror. Yawn. Mirror. Yawn. Mirror. Stop.\n\nBrush. Adjust. Brush. Adjust. Brush. Stop.\n\nWash. Rinse. Wash. Rinse. Wash. Stop.\n\nHurry. Dressed. Hurry. Dressed. Hurry. Stop.\n\nChew. Car. Chew. Car. Chew. Stop.\n\nWork. Indifferent. Work. Indifferent. Work. Stop.\n\nLunch. Chew. Lunch. Chew. Lunch. Stop.\n\nUnfulfilled. Regret. Unfulfilled. Regret. Unfulfilled. Stop.\n\nHome. Not home. Home. Not home. Home. Stop.\n\nRinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Stop.\n\nExhaustion. Defeat. Exhaustion. Defeat. Exhaustion. Stop\n\nLive. Die. Live. Die. Stop.\n\nDo it. Don't. Do it. Stop.\n\nJump. Stop.\n\n\n\n\n`Stop! You don't have to do this ! You have so much to live for !` \n\n\n\nTurn. Understand. " ]	3
	[WP] The human body fights tooth and nail to stay alive, because it knows something we dont about the other side. And today you find out what that is.	[ "Our birth, the moment that we are delivered into this world occurs only once, yet there are so few who can recall this miracle of being. As we age, the memories of our youth fall into disarray before fading completely away. The years, our experiences, the joys, the hopes, the sorrow, are stolen from us as our hearts beat like muffled drums marching to the grave.\n\nRhythmic beeping fills the room, slow and steady, keeping track of each heart beat. My time has long since past, I've made peace with this world and those in it, to have lived this long is more than I could have hoped for. Staring at the ceiling, I struggle to remember the years that have passed me by. Voices call to me from afar, muffled and distorted as memories play in my head, an indistinguishable film. I wish I were there again, given another chance to change the outcome, to experience the slopes of life once more.\n\n“Life may be full of misery and woe” I thought to myself, “but what a misfortune that we must let go.”\n\nI closed my eyes for the final time and escaped into the night. Twilight welcoming me with open arms, my spirit leaped at the thought of another chapter. Ascending into the heavens, I reached out for the stars only to fall short. Plummeting into the darkness below, I cried out for someone to save me. Shadow surrounded me as I fell into a pool of nothing.\n\n“Born with nothing, to nothing I return.” I seemed to hear myself say.\n\nIn the pool of pitch, I saw a reflection of my younger self, it was pulling me under. I struggled and fought as it grasped my legs and tugged.\n\n“What are you doing?! Stop! Stop! You'll drown me!” I screamed, wallowing about.\n\nA thin line reached from ear to ear as it climbed from the ooze using my body as a ladder. His soulless gaze matched mine, grasping at my shoulders and tightening as I continued to writhe helplessly. It looked upwards into the darkened sky as my eyes followed instinctively, we bobbed upwards only once before submerging into the inky depths. Its mouth flew open as its eyes widened, an empty void screamingly hungrily toward me. At last I understood. From my very birth, this monstrosity had been sucking the very life from me, my memories and my health were lost to it, and it sought to finish the task. An anger bordering on hatred welled up within me as I placed my hands at its throat, firmly squeezing the stolen life from its form. It kicked wildly landing blows to my thin frame, my grip tightened and I shook violently.\n\nAn immeasurable amount of time passed as the kicking and flailing subsided, I raced for the surface as the now lifeless body rose in my wake. In time, I was able to enter my old body once more and explore eternity for a life anew.\n\n-001", "Until you die, it's impossible to know the magnitude of the matter. Schools teach of bacteria in the body, of blood cells and skin cells and brain cells - every part of the human body is a small piece of life. \n\nThe thing is, they're all more than alive. They have minds of their own, and it's in the afterlife that they all get the opportunity to have a say.\n\nSee, it turns out there is in fact an afterlife. It's a very crowded place, to say the least, because while everything is the same size, literally every piece of individual life that has at some point existed ends up here. With an equal voice.\n\nThey say romantic things about democracy; just wait until your hair gets to outvote you. It is equal parts disturbing and amusing. \n\nWe are worlds in our own right - they tell me strange stories, the friends that used to be my blood cells. The warriors of the immune system tell grand tales of conquest, while the reds tell of their supply chains and proud efficiency. All the brain cells want to do is network with each other. It's a society in itself, built on stories and perspective. But it's crowded enough and all the voices talk at the same time at the same volume everywhere. On average it takes a year of subjective time to go fully insane. For the rest of existence, that is. \n\nIt's really quite odd. We stay alive to hold onto our sentience. Our bodies do the same to avoid it." ]	2
Let your imaginations go nuts. It can be anywhere in time. And Happy New Year!	[WP] You're an archeologist on a monumental dig that just might change our view of history. You discover a skeleton with artifacts that appear almost modern. One item closely resembles a cellphone. You hold it for a moment. It rings...	[ "As I hear the ancinet phone ring, I ring, answer it.\n\n\"H-hello?\"\n\nThere is a slight delay, and a his of static, but then a voice comes up on the other end.\n\n\"Hey Barney, where are you? TARDIS is leaving in 10, and... wait you're not Bareny. Where is he?\"\n\nI close the phone, then put it in a container. I need to do some research now...", "I wiped the bits of earth and clay off the screen of what seems so much like a cell phone. But how can it be. When the first things that were dug up were dated at 1500 years old...\n\n...and it then it rang. I was so confused, yet somehow excited. Who could be calling, I wondered. I answered as quickly as I could, ready to hear the voice of god, aliens, or maybe even a time traveler.\n\"Hello?\" I asked\n....\n\"Hello, who is this..?\" The first few words.. He sounded strange, European in origin. I know what I need to say. The only thing anyone in my situation would say.\n\n\"Is your refrigerator running?\"\n\n\"What is a frigerater\" He said\n\n\"Well you better go catch it\"\n\nAnd then I hung up\n\n\n...I knew my years in meme college were well spent", "\"Hello?\" I stuttered into the strange phone. \n\nA million different things were running through my head, 'This dig site was supposed to be older than writing on this planet. How did this get here? What even is it? Who...' My thoughts were cut off abruptly by an eerie robotic voice.\n\n\"It has chosen!\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"It has chosen to answer!\"\n\n\"Answer what? Who is this? How can this...\"\n\n\"It must speak for this world. Change the path, the one who answers, the path is its responsibility.\"\n\n\"Is this some sort or prank?\"\n\n\"It has what it needs, the path is its responsibility.\"\n\nThe call went silent, no ring tone, just silence. I took the phone away from my ear and just stared at it shaking my head. 'This was the strangest thing that has ever happened to me. It must be this jungle, I've got to have a fever.'\n\nThe screen flashed to life, it began to open a timeline of ancient events and began to track forward. This list was very detailed, I could isolate by region down to individual actions, even as far as the effect a single action had on others as it rippled out shaping the course of history. The phone eventually made it to today's date, then kept going. Every person's actions and the effect on mankind, it was completely overwhelming. The time line began trickle down to fewer and fewer people and events and finally finished with the deaths of the last eight people taking their own lives on a dying world not worth living in. \n\n'That was it! All our history, ends in a pity party in the burned out remains of a fast food restaurant.' I panicked as I checked the date of that pathetic event. 'July 19th 2047... there's time. I guess I have chosen.'", "My first dig! I was so excited that I couldn't even hold it in! The company I was with was by far more experienced, and by far more annoyed than anything by my endless excitement. But I don't care! I talk the entire way there. Well, almost. The excitement started to die down the closer we got to the site.\n\nIt's the strangest thing. I'm filled with this.... This... Dread. No. I'm just anxious. What if it's a bust? What if I don't do well? What if I mess it up and this ends up being my first, and last trip? What if.... No. I'm sorry, I'm done. It's just new, and I'm anxious.\n\nWe pull up to the site, and I look out. It's not what I expected. Honestly, I'm not sure what I expected. I guess I wanted to pull up to see this massive, unearthed ruined city. Not... Holes. In movies it's always been this massive dig with dinosaurs bones everywhere. Not holes.\n\nNeedless to say, i annoyed everyone around me to the point they refuse to even work with me. So here I am. Alone, dusty, and something not even ten minutes ago I wouldn't even DREAM of being.... Bored.\n\nAt least the anxiety is gone, right? A few hours in now, and I think I'm done. Maybe this IS the last dig for me. But my for the reasons I thoug... \n\nclink\n\nAt first glance I thought I hit a rock. But there was something different about it. I started to dig around it. Then I try to dust it off just to see that it is.\n\nOh my God. It's a skeleton. Holy crap this is cool.\n\n\"Hey Steve, you doing alright over there?\"\n\n\"oh yeah! Nothing but dirt and sand here!\"\n\nScrew them. This is my find. I see those glances they've been making at me all day. The pure avoidance I've been getting. No. This is my find.\n\nThis area is supposed to be rather ancient. But this skeleton is in decent condition. Clothing, while dirty, looks preserved. I'm not sure I understand. I think I'm going to just get someone. This seems out of my league.\n\nI stand up and start to wave someone down. But before I'm able, there's... There's something vibrating? It's buried under some dirt... But it's... Um. A cell phone? And it's ringing?\n\nHonestly, i didn't even think it over. I was too intrigued not to answer.\n\"hello? Steve speaking.\"\nSilence... \n\"anyone there?\"\n\"Don't do it! Just don't do it! I swear, you'll regret every..... Just.... Do.... Pleas... I beg of yo... Th... av.....llaps..... Die!\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, you're breaking up, i can't hear you!\"\n\nIt's too late. It's already gone, and the phone is dead. I'm not sure I recognize the phone. But it's definitely newer. \n\nI keep this to myself for now. Honestly, who's going to believe me anyway? I pack up, make the half mile trek back to the rest of the group, and we all sit down for dinner. I start talking to Phil.\n\nPhil is a bit awkward. Sits alone mostly, so I figured we're both outcasts of the group. He's actually a really cool guy. He's been doing this for 10 years now, and he's giving me all kinds of stories. Turns out, he even found a cave about a quarter mile north! He even asks if I wish to come along! Better than digging a hole by myself, that's for sure!\n\nWe finish up dinner, and we head on over. Upon reaching this cave, i get this sense of dread I felt earlier. But there's no way in HELL I'm backing down on this just because a little fear gets in the way! So we delve in. It's a very narrow, deep, and very dark cave. It was hard to navigate, and even harder to see. Finally we came into a chamber in the cave where Phil has been working in. We set up, and get to work.\n\nAfter exchanging stories about life, and where we went wrong, we decided it was time to take a break and have a beer. Then another. And another.\n\nAt this point, we're both laughing, and having a great time. To which Phil pulls out a stick of dynamite. I've never actually seen one before. And he just handed it to me! We agreed to light it, and throw it down a tunnel a little bit further down. I'm super excited at this point.\n\nSo we find the perfect spot. We light that sucker up, and I gave it a good toss. What I didn't expect, was to have it hit the cave's ceiling, and fall about 25 yards in front of us. We didn't even have time to run. Just... \n\nBOOM \n\nThe entire cave shook. Rocks came crumbling down in the most terrifying experience of my life. I got separated from Phil, and I'm trapped in this pitch black cave with no light, as the cave took out any artificial light we had. I'm terrified to walk. I can't see a thing. I'm crawling on my hands and knees, terrified to fall down some drop. I'm calling out to Phil, with no answer. I'm left alone, feeling around for my life until I find something smooth?\n\nIt's a cell phone! Oh thank God! LIGHT!\n\nIf only I could say that was good. As soon as the light pierced the darkness, the first thing I see is Phil's head crushed by a fallen rock, and I'm trapped with no way out.\n\nWhat numbers do I know? I don't know any numbers! How do I not know any numbers? Oh God I'm the most stupid person alive! I only know my own number! Maybe someone in the group will hear my phone ring, and answer? Oh God, i don't know! But I'm desperate!\n\nNo signal. I'm doomed. I'm doomed to a live of spending the rest of my short life in a cave. Maybe if I just hold the cell phone up higher? That works, right?\n\nHoly crap I have a bar! I quickly dial my phone. SOMEONE ANSWERS!\n\n\"hello? Steve speaking.\"\n\nI'm now filled with this complete sense of dread. I have no idea what's going on. I answered? But... Oh who cares! Maybe I can warn myself? Oh God I'm going crazy! \n\n\"anyone there?\"\n\n\"Don't do it! Just don't do it! I swear, you'll regret everything! Just don't do it, please! I beg of you! The cave will collapse, and you will die!\"\n\nThe final words I'll ever hear before the phone dies.\n\n\"I'm sorry, you're breaking up. I can't hear you.\"\n\nThe phone goes black. The cave goes silent. So here I lie. To spend all eternity here. In the black silence of my grave.", "brrrrrrng\n\nI stare at what could only be described as a cell phone, the vibration shaking me as I gazed at it in fear.\n\nI treated it like a grenade about to explode but do nothing, my tanned face suddenly growing paler with each ring until it stops.\n\nRelieved, I sit back down and look at the skeleton, only to discover the \"phone\" start ringing again.\n\nRealizing I have no other choice, I open the ancient device, bringing it up to my ear.\n\n\"Hello?\" I ask, my voice quivering.\n\n\"Time Travel Triple A, this is John, we haven't heard from you in a while Cindy, is your vacation going well?\"\n\nI stare at the skeleton, a chill running down my spine. \"Umm... John? My name is Charles Jorgenson with the archeology division of the University of Pennsylvania, I found this cell phone with a skeleton.\"\n\nThe phone line went quiet, I heard quiet whispers of their conversation, the caller's superior coming over and berating the employee.\n\n\"We can't save her, that would make a paradox.\"\n\n\"We can't lose another time traveler! A few more incidents like this will bring the entire time tourism industry down.\"\n\n\"But... the paradox!\"\n\nI stared at the skeleton, watching in confusion as it disappeared, and the phone disappeared, and...\n\nWhat was I doing here?", "With gentle strokes I brushed away the dirt from a black object. I squinted as I looked at the object. I knew I had been out on the steppe for a long time this summer. Hell, the sun almost never set this far north. An argument could be made that my brain had been cooked, but I knew that a cell phone was not a sacred artifact buried in a pre-historic temple.\n\nI grabbed the cell phone. I grit my teeth in frustration and stomped out of the tent that protected the dig site. “Who owns this phone?” I yelled.\n\nNobody answered. I had been dealing with this BS all summer with this batch of grad students. Pranks and laziness mainly. I was at my wits end. \n\nI had spent years finding and then excavating this temple. The artifacts found here would rewrite history. My name would be attached to the earliest example of a temple to the dead. I would not have something stupid like contaminations of the dig site ruin this for me.\n\n“I will destroy this phone if someone doesn’t step up and claim it,” I screamed.\n\nThe grad students on the sieve stopped working. “What kind of phone is it, Professor?” said one.\n\nI closed my eyes and tried to take deep breaths to calm myself. I counted to five. I wanted to throw this phone right at their stupid little heads. My funding would dry up faster than a puddle in the Mojave during August if I did though. I opened my eyes and flipped over the phone. “It’s a Nokia.”\n\nAnother grad student came out of the kitchen tent. “No one here has a Nokia. It’s a piece of shit phone. At least buy a Samsung.” He laughed.\n\nI was going to do it. I was going to kill one of them. I cocked my arm back to throw the phone when I felt it vibrate.\n\nI pulled my arm down and looked at the phone screen. Private Number. There was no cell service out here. I swiped to answer. “Who is this?”\n\n“What do you want for dinner?” \n\nI knew that voice and cadence. I swallowed. Even more anger bubbled up from within me. “Who is this?”\n\n“What do you mean, baby?”\n\nI struggled to get my words out. “Whoever thinks this is funny is going home on the next transport.”\n\n“When are you going to be home?”\n\n“My wife is dead,” I screamed. “This isn’t funny. Who is this?”\n\n“We could have chicken, but I know we just had that. I can’t think of anything else though”\n\nBaked chicken breast with rice and broccoli was the last meal we had together. I began to sob. “How do you know that?”\n\nThe graduate students gathered around and gave me funny looks. One of them put her hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay, Professor?”\n\nI shrugged her off and began walking without a purpose. “Who is this?” I whispered.\n\n“It’s your little tulip. Are you okay, baby? I just want to make sure that there is something for you to eat when you get home.”\n\nThe called ended. \n\nI sank to my knees and looked at the blank screen. My cries echoed across the steppe as storm clouds gathered on the horizon. \n" ]	6
	[WP] One day an animal begins to communicate with you and only you. It tells you a secret that could alter human reality...	[ "Tim’s 2nd run this week. He usually does 3 but he’d worked extra shifts.\nRound to the left and a slight right.\n\nHe kept his pace steady and consistent as always.\nDown the slope and…\n\nInto a spider web, thick and new. His arachnophobia kicked in as he flailed and sprinted, eyes shut tight. Trying to escape his enemy’s trap.\n “Calm down.” A voice whispered from behind.\n\nHe stopped, froze in place. Spun around to find no one.\n “Stay still while I get down.” The same voice calmly spoke.\nGet down? From where?\n\nHe picked and ripped the web from his face, arms and body.\nFucking web, I hate this shit.\n\nHe spotted a decent sized spider resting on the back of his hand remaining motionless. Tim screamed as if he’d been stabbed, swinging his arms, flicking at it, trying to get rid of it. \n “HEY! Stop! I won’t bite.”\nDid that…? No.\n “Stay still and let me speak.”\nHe froze again. Looked at the spider, still there.\n “I need to warn you.” It said.\nDid that just…? No. That’s not possible.\n “Did you just talk?” Tim asked.\n “Yes, all spiders can if you can hear.”\n “…How?”\n “Well we were once human, but we were banished from our bodies to these grotesque figures for our discovery.”\n “I need to drink more before I run.” Tim said to himself.\n “This is no hallucination. Lives depend upon this knowledge.”\n “Suuure they do. And I’m a god.”\n “Exactly. You are…”", "In class, with the psychology professor droning in her elderly monotone and the sun barely over the horizon, that fat grey squirrel was the only thing keeping me awake. It twitched perpetually on the maple branch outside the window, its tail almost like a candle flame flickering back and forth. And back and forth again. And again. Do something! I felt my eyelids droop once more to before-squirrel levels and sat up straighter, praying for a more interesting distraction to present itself.\n\n\"Excuse me.\"\n\nStomach having immediately plummeted to my toes, I made sure that the professor had not stopped her lecturing to address my inattention. No, impossible. Someone nearby? No, the girl directly to my right was still drooling on her laptop keyboard, notes having trailed off into a thousand semi-colons. \n\n\"Yes?\" I whispered into the air, heart pounding as my stomach nervously crawled its way back up my shins. \n\n\"You should pay attention. This lecture is important.\"\n\nWith a jolt of realisation, the squirrel's beady eyes locked with mine and it gave a tail twitch that could only be described as purposeful. \n\nI blinked. It blinked. \n\n\"What do you mean?\" I mouthed at the window, cringing as I saw the action in the reflection and turning it into a smooth nose scratch. Nope, no one’s talking to rodents here. \n\n\"He was right. But, remember, you didn't hear it from me!\" With an actual, honest-to-goodness wink, the squirrel scampered down the tree as if it hadn't just been telepathically squeaking words into my head.\n\nThe empty spot on the branch was hypnotising. I could only stare and imagine the same emptiness my mother would feel when the brain tumour was found, inevitable now with this evidence, and even summoned up the courage to begin thinking up the will. \n\nSuddenly, the girl beside me woke up with a snort and bolted upright, frantically, inefficiently, backspacing while ignoring the undo button in her panic. \"Can I borrow your notes?\" she pleaded. \"Worked late last night.\"\n\nI shook my head, more to clear out the thoughts of charity donations in my memory than to deny her my non-existent notes, but she took it as the latter anyways and turned to someone else. Then, as if emerging from a tunnel and the radio tuning in once again, the professor's words reached my ears. \n\nAnd I listened.\n\n\"...his findings were unfounded in science and paranormal in nature. Ian Stevenson's research into reincarnation clearly illustrates how confirmation bias can undermine a study's results. Moreover, there is...\"\n\nAnd I stopped listening because I'd just been cured of a brain tumour. \n\nHe was right." ]	2
	[WP]: A school principal calls a parent into a meeting concerning his son bullying other students. The father turns out to be her own old bully.	[ "This is my first time doing a writing prompt as I am an aspiring part-time writer. I hope it's not too terrible and constructive criticism is greatly welcomed and encouraged!! :D\n______________________________________________________________\n\n\nThe stoic floor stares back at the child, his reflection seeming to reprimand him for throwing the chocolate pudding cup which signaled the beginning of a food fight.\n\n\"Food fights...stuffing kids into lockers...cursing the teachers out...geez, what haven't you done, Aiden?\" The principle slams a mile-long, pink trail of disciplinary notices on top of her cherry oak desk, covering the kid's face. \n\n\"Aren't you proud of yourself? Three packs of paper spent writing up your delinquencies. Perhaps, we should add bullying trees to the list as well?\" She said, hoping that her joke would create a light atmosphere, but the tension intensified as the child continues to stare at the floor with a tighter clench onto the chair. \n\nSeeing no results, her lungs sigh in defeated as her hand pressed onto eight thirteen, seventy-four, ninety-three. Aiden's left eye sneaks an upward glance when he hears Ms. Prynne loudly confirms his father will be arriving shortly. She easily slides into her chair and stares at Aiden's transcript.\n\n\"Your A's and B's definitely prove you aren't a typical meathead. So why the bad behavior?\" She raised her eyebrow.\n\nAiden's shoulders respond with uncertainty.\n\n\"Do you behave like this at home? Your parents wouldn't like to see this type of behavior from you, right?\"\n\nHis shirt prevented his reason from being coherent. \"Speak a bit louder, Aiden,\" Ms. Prynne waves her hand.\n\nHe raised his head barely enough for his response to be audible. \"My dad says that bullying is essential for children to experience survival of the fittest early.\"\n\nMs. Prynne's eyes widen in astonishment. This statement triggered memories of her desk being smeared with black paint and having tomato juice thrown on her white prom dress by a former graduate who preferred partying instead of studying, ditching class over attending class only in the end to hold himself back from graduating on time with the rest of the class. It ran through Ms. Prynne's mind that an excuse birthed from immaturity and ignorance would be utter by a seventh grader who seemed to be given a pass to act out. A knock on the door brought her focus back into the still office and the door was opened at the sound of open.\n\n\"Ms. Prynne, a parent is here for you,\" Ms. Malone notifies.\n\n\"Thank you. Please, bring them in.\" Ms. Prynne nods her head.\n\nShortly after, the galloping footsteps of the father entered the run and pulled his son into an embrace. \"Are you okay?\" He tenderly scans his son's face, neck, and arms for imperfections before pulling him into another hug. When he turns to face Ms. Prynne, both of their eyes flare up with the flames of remembrance that ignites from the wildfire that continued to burn to this day.\n\n\"Evelyn\" is the first word the father whispers.\n\n\"Devin Calloway.\" Ms. Prynne recalls.\n\nDevin nervously clears his throat and timidly sits next to Aiden. His eyes wanders across Ms. Prynne's office, noting her achievements placed around the room, with his eyes landing on Ms. Prynne's doctorate degree. \n\n\"Well, you should know why I called you down here. Your son started a food fight in the cafeteria hall and has committed a series of other offenses through the previous school years,\" Ms. Prynne presses her index finger down on the stack of lingering disciplinary notices to emphasize the other offenses that Devin was not aware Aiden had committed.\n\n\"Evelyn, I am sorry for the actions of my son,\" he solumnly places his hat over his heart. \"Aiden, I'm disappointed in you. You know your mother and I have taught you better than this,\" his voice gets louder and makes Aiden seep into the chair. \n\n\"Mr. Calloway, let me make it a point to exemplify praise for Aiden's academic standing,\" Devin receives the transcript from Ms. Prynne. \"Aiden's a smart student who knows that his bullying antics is immoral and will not be tolerated at this school; however, I can't help but question that the reason why Aiden is allowed to act like this is because-\"\n\n\"Because what? You think my wife and I give him permission to behave like this,\" the transcript begins to wrinkle as Devin's grip tightens in annoyance.\n\n\"Perhaps not your wife, but I have no reasons to doubt that you allow him to do so,\" Ms. Prynne gently taps her thumb on her chin. \"I believe your defunct motto still stands as 'it is essential for children to experience survival of the fittest as early as possible',\" Devin bites his bottom lips and twiddle his fingers.\n\n\"No, wait,\" he scoots to the edge of the seat. \"You're taking things out of context, Evelyn. They're kids, they're just having fun.\"\n\n\"I see nothing fun with a child being imprisoned within a five by six locker for no reason or a cafeteria I expect to be clean and sanitary not only for your child, but for the rest of the students at this school to have a glob of mashed potatoes smeared across the wall.\"\n\n\"In this case, they should be called smashed potatoes,\" he chuckled nervously before looking away from Ms. Prynne while adjusting his perfectly buttoned collar. \n\nMs. Prynne's chin rested on her intertwined fingers. \"If you would try to be an adult for once, Mr. Calloway, then you too would realize the ridiculousness of your past actions.\" She continued after calibrating her glasses onto her face. \"I have giving Aiden warnings and detentions countless times, but it looks like it's time for him to gain an understanding of just how dangerous his actions have been.\"\n\nShe hands Devin a newly filled disciplinary form. Devin leans into the slip, spotting Aiden's punishment.\n\n\"A week of suspension? Come on, Evelyn!\" He flails his arms in the air and stares in disbelief at Ms. Prynne as his arms plopped lifelessly onto the chair's armrests. \"That's too harsh!\"\n\n\"Too harsh? Your son has had plenty of opportunities to get suspended. Be fortunate that ALL he got was only a week's suspension.\"\n\nMs. Prynne's arms crossed and her back reclined onto the chair, viewing Devin slightly shake in the seat while looking at Aiden's disciplinary form. \n\n\"I will be expecting a transfer form to arrive in my mailbox by next week.\" In a swooping motion, Devin headed towards the door. \"Let's go, Aiden.\"\n\nFollowing his father's command, Aiden looked back at Ms. Prynne to see her face him with a smile. It wasn't a smile that taunted the young child nor belittled him. It was a smile that identified and giggled at the lack of understanding and hoped for understanding to be achieved. \n\nWalking behind his disgruntled father who was reporting the meeting to his mother, Aiden looked at him and smiled.", "Judy Morell hated these kinds of meetings. A predictable, three-course meal: they always started off with a bitter melange of exaggerated shock and indignation, followed by a hearty plateful of defensiveness and denial, topped off by vague threats involving \"boards\" and \"superintendents\", with undertones of outrage and blackberry. She hated these meetings most of all because, more often than not, the problem was not the student.\n\nSamantha was not always like this. She had been one of the best and brightest in middle school, but something had happened in the transition from 8th to 9th grade, and now she had become a more challenging student.\n\nrap rap rap\n\nThree knocks at the door. Ms. Morell imagined the knuckle that made the sound. The sound had been too harsh for her comfort. Perhaps it was bravado. Perhaps trepidation.\n\nShe opened the door and welcomed Samantha and her father into her room. She smiled at Samantha, who by now had become aware of just how real her trouble was. She sported downtrodden eyes and sagging shoulders. Rare to see, thought Ms. Morell.\n\nShe greeted Samantha's father, though felt uncomfortable with something about him. Perhaps it was his general posture, perhaps his shuffling gait. Perhaps it was neither and Ms. Morell would simply rather be at home baking muffins.\n\nHe introduced himself, and Ms. Morell felt a little more uncomfortable. She felt her heartbeat deepen, a tightness in her throat. She started to feel humid in the middle of her back and underneath the plastic frame of her glasses. Her frames slid slightly forward on the bridge of her nose, and she pushed them back. She knew him. She remembered his voice, his taunting in class. The way he would try to disparage her in front of her teachers, classmates, friends. That one time he actually pushed her..\n\nMs. Morell and Samantha's dad opened the conversation at the same time. They both stuttered, then apologized and asked the other to proceed. Ms. Morell took the chance. She liked to feel in control of these sorts of meetings. She was surprised, though, that he had apologized in the first place. Definitely trepidation, she thought.\n\nSamantha's dad hadn't recognized her. Bullies never do, she thought, it's always about themselves.. she caught herself in this thought, and remembered that she had forgiven him long ago in her heart, as a way to move on and not allow him to control her feelings. She wondered, how long does forgiveness last?\n\nTell me about yourself, she suddenly blurted out to Samantha's father. How was your own grade school experience? Her heart quickened, her eyes widened, she bit her lip. Why does it feel exciting so suddenly? Because he has no idea who I am!\n\nHe mumbled some words about it being ok, how he doesn't have many memories of it overall. Ms. Morell was now legitimately excited. Her mind sparked off fun and intriguing ways of playing with his mind, of maybe even trying to embarrass him, just a little, in front of his Samantha.\n\nShe caught herself. I forgave him, she repeated. Deep breaths slowed her heart down. She had missed what Samantha's dad had said, but it didn't matter. The moment was hers to keep, her secret and her fleeting moment of mischievousness. And with the twinkling smile of that moment a new, happy memory, Ms. Morell started to discuss Samantha's recent trouble at school.", "Jonathan Mills was the spitting image of his father, right down to the small square fingernails and the eyelashes that were long beyond belief.\n\nMelissa knelt beside the boy, fighting the urge to yell. He had spent recess following one of the second graders about the playground, throwing pebbles and insults at her in equal share. \"Jon, last time you threw rocks at Cleo, I told you that I would have to call your parents if it happened again.\"\n\nJon stared at her through his little round eyes. To his credit, he didn't look like he was going to cry. His father would have thrown a tantrum. Melissa sighed. \"Let's go find Mrs. E, okay?\" They walked together across the playground. Jon kicked up clouds of sand with each step and Melissa cursed herself for having worn heels on recess duty. Mrs. Ellis was lining her class up outside her classroom door. Jon ran to his spot in line, pushing his way through the other kids. Melissa handed Mrs. Ellis the disciplinary form she had filled out for him, then made her way around the school to her office.\n\nIt was such a shame, she thought, that Jon had turned out like his dad. Jonathan Mills, Sr., had preferred hair-pulling and menacing threats to beat down his victims. He'd had a so-called gang, three other boys who added to the torment. Melissa remembered them well. \"Missy, sissy,\" they would scream as they chased her. Once they had cornered her by the basketball hoops and cut off one of her pigtail braids.\n\nShe sank into her desk chair and pulled up the school directory on her laptop. She scrawled Jonathan Mills' number onto a sticky note. One, two, three times she double-checked the numbers. There was no number for Mrs. Mills, she noted. Had she ever met Jon's mom?\n\nShe dialed the number quickly. Jonathan Mills picked up after three rings. \"How can I help you.\" His voice was harried.\n\nShe realized she had been holding her breath. \"Mr. Mills? This is Principal Stevens, from the elementary school?\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"Your son has been bullying some students and we're concerned. Is there a time you could come meet with me and his teacher after school this week?\"\n\nFour hours later, Jonathan Mills stormed through the door of her office. Melissa hastened out of her chair to shake his hand. His handshake was weak. \"Good afternoon,\" she said. Emma Ellis, bless her heart, chose that moment to knock. \"Sorry I'm late. Good to see you again, Mr. Mills,\" she said dryly.\n\n\"Jon is in the car. Can we make this quick?\" The man had nerve.\n\nMelissa let Emma do the talking while she eyed Jonathan Mills. She was no longer afraid of him. There were more lines around his dark piggy eyes than the last time she'd seen him. She wasn't even sure if he recognized her from his grade school tyrant days; nowadays, she wore a new last name, a darker hair color, and the confidence born of being head of a school. \n\n\"But he continues to act up,\" Emma was saying. \"We want to be certain he has a good support network at home.\"\n\nMr. Mills' eyes darted about. \"I have to work a lot.\" He cleared his throat and closed his eyes for a few seconds. \"You know, when I was in school, if a little boy picked on a little girl, he had a crush on her.\"\n\n\"There's a difference between teasing and bullying,\" Emma said firmly. \"Cleo has bruises from where your son hit her with rocks.\"\n\n\"What doesn't kill you....\" he trailed off. \"Look, I'll talk to my son. Is there anything else?\"\n\nYou bastard, Melissa wanted to say. She held her tongue. Jonathan Mills left her office without another word, shoulders bowed.\n\n\"I'll spend more time with Jon. I don't want him to get held back,\" Emma mused. \"At least his grades aren't getting worse. His family life doesn't seem to be helping him succeed. He's probably a good kid, deep deep down.\"\n\n\"Thanks, Emma, I'll keep an eye on him, too.\" \n\nEmma nodded and left Melissa alone in her office. The walls were painted this godawful grey color; why hadn't that bothered her before? She felt defeated somehow. Mr. Mills hadn't been outright rude. He was a sorry man, a former bully with nothing but a dead-end job and a receding hairline. She had been his victim, but she hadn't been beat by him: she had a career, a family, a smile on her lips most days. So why did she feel like she'd lost? \n\nShe knew the answer when, a week later, father and son were seated in her office, both of them scowling from beneath their impossible eyelashes.", "When he walked in, I felt crushed. The boy's father was a gloomy man. A walking husk of a human being. Without a need for introductions, he spoke with a gruff voice and a strict intention. \n\n“Where's my boy?” \n\nIt was like watching a stray dog bark at you. I quickly explained to him the 5 day suspension and handed him his pink slip without another word. His son came out, red-eyed and flustered. \n\n“You think I have the time to fuckin' be here?” He growled at the child as they sequentially left.\n\nThis sort of thing happened a few times before. I noticed the pupil returning to school only to cause more disruption with each suspension. He ended up in my office on a regular basis, treating other students the way his father kept me. But I held back from calling one day.\n\n'Sir please don't call my Dad.” He wept to me one day, and it all became clear. His behavior drastically improved with each day. I remember when his Father was just like him and made a choice to dial Childrens Service's. Maybe someone should have done that for him.", "Mrs Joy? Darren's dad is here to see you finally.\n\nThank you Janice, please show him in.\n\nThe memories flood back in like a ten ton hammer. Joy Joy the boy toy. She realizes her face must surely be showing the sheer terror she feels and quickly tries to reclaim her demeaner and dignity.\n\nMr Thompson... please take a seat and make your self comfortable. She hoped that the look on her face wasnt as apparent as she thought. The countless memories kept trying to invade her thoughts mercilessly. \n\nWelllll.. if it isnt Mrs Joy. Long time no see. he said smuggly. I hear my son has got him self into some kind of trouble again. If I drove down here for some silly shit again. You realize how much paid vacation time I'm having to use for this?\nThird time this month. He stared at her from across the desk as if it were her fault he had to be here. \n\nThe condescending tone in his voice and the look in his eyes. It gnawed at her confidence. All the years and work to get here. It was all gone in that instance. All she could hear was Joy Joy the boy toy over and over. They pushed her down, knocking her books from her hands. She had cried then. Never knowing why they tortured her.\n\nSir... she paused, wondering if he was going to continue his rant. The problem is that your son has what seems is issues with a few of the other children in his grade. He mashed his hands into the victims mashed potatos and then flicked the food into his face before calling him and I quote \"Fatass\". \n\nIf you ask me my son has probably helped that boy some. He may even go on a diet now. Have you seen that boy? He's huuuge. Darrens father made a pig face by pushing his nose up and inflating his cheeks. Look at how it helped you. All the times in school didnt bother you none. If anything it made you stronger it seems. You probably owe me for most of your success because of my jokes. Next thing you know you will say my boy needs sensitivity training.\n\nJokes... You thought those were jokes? She stood walked around her desk picking up her laptop as she did. With two hands she slammed the laptop into the side of his head. The force of the impact so strong she thought she had broken his neck. Seeing he wasnt dead she grabbed his tie pulling him close. She planted one foot square in the middle of his chest twisting the heel to cause pain. \n\nYou.. thought... that... was... FUNNY? she screamed into his face.\n\nShe snapped back from her private little fantasy to reality. The apple doesnt fall far from the tree I see. Your son has two options as I see it. Expulsion or fifteen months of sensitivity training. The ball is now in your hands so to speak Mr Thompson. \n\nJanice Please show Mr Thompson out please. She said as she stood and walked to her door. \n\nBut.. he started to say. She interrupted. Good day Mr Thompson. \n\nBut... he started again. I said Good day sir. she returned to her work. \n\n\n", "Ted stared heatedly across the table at the smug, self-assured father sitting before him. No, more than that -- this man wasn't just another parent to a troubled teen like he was used to, this man was something more.\n\nYears of verbal and physical abuse cycled through his head. Black eyes and scratches left by slammed locker doors, mornings of dread and nights of regret, all flowing back through the analog of time. Sitting before him was none other then Darren McDougal, the young man who had single-handedly made Ted's teen years a living hell. How did he not see the similarities between this man and his son? It was like he had produced a clone of himself to come back and haunt the man he could no longer bully.\n\n\"Well Ted, long time no see.\" Darren's smile twitched just a little more broad, his canine teeth becoming part of that smile. \"What's it been, twenty years now? Time could've been a little kinder to you! Just joking, of course, no need to go getting offended. Now what's this I hear about Michael being in trouble?\"\n\nTed could feel the red creeping into his face from the neck up. It was like rage was filling his body from the floor up with hot, liquid fire. The subtle jab at his appearance had only solidified his notion that Darren had not changed a bit. Taking a deep breath and remembering his position in all of this, Ted put on his best authoritative voice and began.\n\n\"Well Darren, we're more then a bit worried about Michael. He's very often distracted in class, but worse than that he distracts others. He often has outbursts in the hallway or lunch room, and I'm sure you must've seen the multiple notices sent home about physical altercations between him and other students...\" Ted trailed off for a moment, waiting for recognition.\n\n\"Oh, those bits o' paper? I didn't pay them a lot of mind! Boys will be boys, and Michael is just roughing around a little bit. Maybe if kids weren't so sensitive these days, they'd have an easier time of it!\"\n\nTed glowered, the anger inching just a little bit further into his cheeks.\n\n\"Now Darren, we both know I can't let this sort of thing continue on. Michael's already had three suspensions this year for fighting, and other parents have come to the school to complain about him jumping their boys on his way home. Then there was that incident with Lucy Duke...\" Ted trailed off, brow furrowed. The Lucy incident would have been much worse if Greg Leeman hadn't happened upon the two. \"All in all, somethings gotta give. We think the boy needs anger management, at the very least.\"\n\nTed eyed Darren as the man shifted forward in his seat, suddenly affecting a much more aggressive posture than before. His eyes had narrowed, and he locked Ted in a sharp gaze that pinned him in place.\n\n\"Now you see here, Ted. No one is going to be taking my boy to any sort of crack pot anger management, or therapy, or anything of the like. You can tell these other parents to shove their complaints up their arses, because all he is doing is being a healthy teen boy! There ain't nothing wrong with that, and I don't appreciate you all trying to parent MY son!\" The last line he punctuated by slamming a fist down onto the desk, his defense laid out bare.\n\nTed stared quietly at Darren for a minute or so, leaning back in his chair and breathing evenly. Through Darren's tirade he had begun to realize something, something that had washed a sense of cool calm across him and tamped down the anger that was rising inside of him. It all came down to one simple fact.\n\nDarren couldn't hurt him anymore. Darren had no power.\n\n\"Darren, if Michael has one more incident with us, he'll be expelled. Get your boy some help, or he's going to end up in Juvie. Or worse. If you have anything to say about that, you can take it up with Principal Winters, or the school board.\"\n\nGathering up his papers in a dismissive gesture, Ted stood and moved to the back of the room to gather his bag and his teaching plan for the next day. When he snuck a glance back he caught the image of Darren working his jaw silently before standing with his fists balled. Ted's whole body went stiff as he expected some retaliation, maybe even an attack. He was only able to breathe again when Darren whirled, stomping his way noisily out of the classroom and slamming the door on the way out.\n\nThis time history wouldn't repeat itself, if Ted could do anything about it. He made a mental note to send along guidance councillor recommendations, and then grabbed his keys to lock up.", "This is my first writing prompt for the 365 day challenge, please be gentle\n \n\"James, your behavior is unacceptable. We do not place our hands on others without their permission, do you understand?\"\n \nThe little boy stared at the floor, clearly uninterested in what I was telling him.\n \nThis was not an uncommon occurrence. Young children often bullied one another, not always with any intention. My father once told me, \"Samantha, people don't always have a reason for what they do. Sometimes people are just nasty to one another because they are hurting. Other times, they are simply envious. But we can't let it keep us from our own happiness. Only you can keep yourself from that.\" \n \nThose words carried me through my darkest times, and I wouldn't be where I am today without them. As an educator, it is my job to impart wisdom such as that unto others. In this case, however, I was unsure how to react. James had been in here three times now, each time for the same reason.\n \n\"James,\" I repeated. \"Look at me.\"\n \nHe looked up with a face like a defiant prisoner of war, arms crossed and brow furrowed.\n \n\"You need to stop hitting these girls. I don't know what else to say that I haven't said already, so I had Ms. Brown call your father. He should be here any minute.\"\n \nThat line usually struck terror into the hearts of ten year olds, but James just looked out the window and muttered, \"Whatever.\"\n \nKnock knock\n \n\"Come in,\" I said. Hopefully loud enough to be heard through the door. \n \nIt opened and Ms. Brown peeked in, \"James' father is here, should I send him in?\"\n \nI smiled, \"Yes, Tracy. Thank you.\"\n \nShe smiled back at me and opened the door wider, then turned around to call the father in.\n \n\"Mr. Castle, you can go in now.\"\n \n\"Please, darling, call me Ethan.\"\n \nThat name, combined with that voice, made something click in my brain. Ethan Castle... It couldn't be. Then he walked through the door.\n \n\"Sam? Is that you?\" He said with an astonished look on his face.\n \nI paused. He was grinning now. Collecting myself, I stood up and extended my hand to greet him.\n \n\"Ethan,\" I stammered, \"When did you move to Austin?\"\n \nHe reached out and grabbed my hand firmly, shaking it. Then he sat down next to James, placing his hand on the boy's head.\n \n\"We moved in last month, but I have always loved this city.\"\n \nI paused again. Taking an opportunity to collect himself, Ethan put his arm around James and whispered, \"Hey, buddy. How's it going?\" The boy kept staring away from us. I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, preparing for what was coming next. \n \n\"Ethan, your son has been acting up lately and I wasn't sure what else to do. I prefer not to punish children too severely, but he can't keep hitting and pushing the girls around.\"\n \nEthan quickly looked away from his son and up at me. It was subtle, but an unmistakable look of shock had shown on his face as he looked up at me.\n \nI continued, \"The next time it happens, I will be required to suspend him and I don't want to do that. I'm trying to understand why he's doing it, but he won't talk to me.\"\n \nThe man looked down for a moment. He didn't look much older than what I remembered from High School. His hairline had receded slightly, but not enough to say he looked older than 35. He still had thick, black hair, only now it was accompanied by stubble and some light wrinkles. Ethan looked up at me, now a look of concern on his face. He took his arm from around his son and looked at the boy.\n \n\"James, you can't put your hands on other people. It's not okay to hit others, especially girls. If you have a problem with someone, talk to me.\"\n \nJames kept staring out the window and away from us, that look of anger still on his face.\n \n\"James, I'm talking to you.\" He said sternly. \"Am I going to have to take away the Gameboy?\"\n \nThat got his attention.\n \n\"You can't do that!\" James shouted at his father.\n \n\"I can and I will. I'm telling you not to hit girls. Apparently, you have been doing that a lot lately so we need to make sure it doesn't happen again. If it happens again, I will take the Gameboy.\"\n \n\"But they were mean to me!\"\n \n\"That doesn't make it okay to hit them.\"\n \n\"But you hit mom!\"\n \nMy jaw dropped. Ethan's eyes widened. James stared defiantly at his father, who seemed ready to raise his fist and beat the boy. But before I could say anything, Ethan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He slowly exhaled after holding it for a few seconds, and then opened his eyes again. The boy struggled at first as his father wrapped his arms around him, but then submitted to the embrace.\n \nEthan kissed his son on the head, \"James, I'm sorry. I made a mistake. But I want you to learn from my mistakes, not repeat them.\"\n \nJames began to cry. \"But she deserved it!\"\n \nEthan pulled back and placed his hands on James' shoulders. \"Maybe. But violence won't solve anything. You should never intentionally hurt others.\"\n \n\"But she hurt us!\" he cried.\n \nEthan gave his son a kiss on the forehead and embraced him again. \"I know, I know. But we'll be okay. I promise.\" James' crying subsided as he nestled his head in his father's chest.\n \nThe man kissed his son on the head and then pulled him away. \"Why don't you go outside and sit with Ms. Brown. Sam and I need to talk for a moment.\" He handed the boy his phone. \"You can play with this while you wait, okay?\"\n \nThe boy nodded somberly, wiping away the tears from his eyes. Ethan placed his hand on the James' face. \"I love you.\"\n \n\"I love you too, daddy.\"\n \nJames walked out of the room, and Ethan turned to look at me as the door shut behind him.\n \nEthan smiled slightly. \"I'm actually glad that you heard that, Sam.\"\n \nReally?\" I tilted my head. \"Why?\"\n \n\"Because I owe you an apology.\"\n \n\"For what?\"\n \n\"You know what, Sam.\"\n \nI stared down into my lap, then glanced at the scar on my foot. He was right. I knew exactly what he was talking about.\n \n\"But why now, Ethan?\"\n \n\"Because James is going through something similar to what I went through. When I was fifteen, I found out that my mom was cheating on my dad. So I told him.\" He paused.\n \n\"You don't have to tell me all of this, I understand.\"\n \n\"No, I need to. I won't feel right until I tell you.\"\n \nI stared at him, the man who had tormented me as a child seeming as if he would fall apart any moment. \"Okay,\" I said. \n \n\"That night, after I told my dad what I saw, he confronted her in the kitchen. They yelled at each other, arguing for what seemed like hours. Then my mom said to him, 'You're a pathetic loser, at least Jerry has a career! While you're stuck at home all day writing your stupid stories, he's out there working!' My dad slapped her, broke down in tears, and walked upstairs. She stormed to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer as I sat in the living room, crying quietly so that they wouldn't notice my presence and take their anger out on me. A few hours later, my mom went upstairs to talk to him. There was a moment of silence, and then all I could hear was her screaming. I ran upstairs only to find my dad hanging from the ceiling fan.\"\n \n\"Oh my god, Ethan. I'm so sorry. I had no idea.\"\n \n\"No, it's okay. That was a long time ago. But it's not okay that I took my anger at my mom out on you. A lot has happened in my life that has made me realize my mistakes, and of all the people who I mistreated I think you are the most deserving of an apology.\"\n \n\"Thank you,\" I was staring at the scar again. I looked back up at him. \"That... that really means a lot. But what does it have to do with James?\"\n \nEthan looked down at the floor. \"About six months ago I caught my wife with another man. In our own house, no less.\" He paused and looked back up at me. \"We were arguing about it when James walked in and saw me slap her. It was my first violent outburst since high school, and I felt ashamed immediately after. But she stormed out before I could say anything.\"\n \n\"I'm so sorry, Ethan, I don't know what to say... is that why you moved here?\"\n \nHe nodded. \"Yeah, I wanted a fresh start for him. For me. For both of us.\"\n \nI smiled sympathetically. \"Well, I'm going to excuse James from school today. Not a suspension, just permission to be dismissed early. I think you and James should spend the day together.\"\n \nHe smiled at me, blinked away the water that had built up in his eyes, and stood up. \"Thank you so much, Sam. I wish I could make it up to you more.\"\n \n\"You can. Just take care of James,\" I said. \"I don't want any more incidents when he comes back, do you hear me?\" I jokingly scolded.\n \n\"Oh you don't have to worry, I'll make sure of that.\" Ethan laughed and paused, staring into my eyes for a moment longer than I would expect. \"Maybe we can grab coffee and catch-up sometime.\"\n \nI stuttered, not certain how to respond. I thought back on the boy who had tortured me, who had made me want to die. I saw his face in my mind, but when I looked at him in front of me now I just could not make the connection. These were two entirely different people. I smiled and said to him, \"I... I would like that very much.\"\n \nHe smiled, and I reached out to shake his hand. But he shook his head and walked around the desk to give me a hug. \"I'm glad that we met again,\" he said. Then he pulled back, looked into my eyes, and smiled.\n \nAfter Ethan had left, I sat at my desk for a while. A few calls came in, but I told Ms. Brown to handle them for me. I stood up and walked over to the window, staring out across the playground at the children playing. Instead of anxiety, I now felt relief.\n \n\"Thank you, Ethan.\"\n \n-001", "Carol waited in her office, seated in her leather chair that her husband had gotten her for her 48th birthday. On her desk was a computer that she barely poked at, a calendar, a couple of folders, and a mocha candle that she couldn't light because of the policies. But still, she liked to have it sit there, opened, some of the scent still managing to find its way into the cramped office air. It sat there, in a glass case. Its tin lid was off somewhere forgotten, probably in one of her desk drawers. \n\nA silhouette appeared behind her frosted door window, darkening the backwards letters of her name. Her stomach tightened, as it did all the other times she had to have a meeting with a parent. Seven years as a principal and that constricting feeling still played with her intestines whenever these meetings had to happen. She had spent the several last minutes saying the name quietly to herself, as to make sure not to flub up the pronunciation even though it wasn't all that complicated of a last name. Mr. Callahan, Mr. Callahan, Mr. Callahan. \n\nThe door opened, and in stepped a giant of a man; he was wearing a red flannel shirt, faded blue jeans, combat boots, and a red trucker's cap. He had blonde hair that curled out from underneath the hat. It curved over and behind his ears. \n\n\"Mr. Callah-\n\nAnd she froze, taking notice of his eyes: one was brown and the other was blue. She hadn't seen eyes like that since the 4th-\n\n\"Carol? Oh shit!\" He said loudly. The secretary just outside of the office turned to look, but her reaction was cut short when Callahan shut the door behind him. \"Oh, my, God! It's been what, twenty something years?\" He sat down in one of the two chairs that framed her desk, quickly leaning back into it and propping his feet onto her table, almost kicking over her candle in the process. \n\n\"Something like that,\" Carol muttered, intestines feeling as if they were locked in a vice. Had he changed his last name? Or had it always been Callahan?\n\n\"So this is what you've been doing, huh? A fuckin' principal, I should've been able to guess that, ya?\" His breath was heavy with the smell of cigarette smoke. When she looked into his eyes, she could see piles of sleep-grit, accumulating there in the corners because this bastard of a man probably still never showered. \n\n\"Well, this isn't really about me now, I've got to talk to you about your-\n\n\"Hey, girl, you remember what we used to do?\"\n\nThe vice on her stomach loosened enough for Carol to vomit into her mouth a little. She swallowed it down, hoping Callahan hadn't noticed. She quickly recomposed herself, and ignored his question. \n\n\"I need to talk to you about your son, he has-\n\n\"Oh God, I still think about that sometimes, going back behind the bleachers, you and me, that was some fucking sick-\n\n\"Please, Mr. Callahan,\" she said, voice wavering. The taste of vomit on her tongue turned her entire mouth acidic. \"I don't want to talk about that, we need to talk about your-\n\nHe removed his feet from her desk and stood, slowly circling around towards her, \"Are you still into that kinky shit?\"\n\nCarol stood, \"Please, sit down, we need to talk about your-\n\nAnd he raised a hand, as if he were going to caress her cheek. \n\nShe grabbed a hold of her candle, and slammed it into the side of his face. It shattered in her hand, but she still gripped it tightly, shards of glass slicing into her palm. He fell down to the office floor, letting out an almost comical UNF, and Carol fell on top of him, bringing down the spiked candle, down and down again into his nose, into his forehead, into his temple. \n\nShe felt hands grab onto her shoulders and rip her away from the bloodied man who had made her school years a living nightmare. Her arm still rose and fell, still trying to bring any kind of pain to that man. It wouldn't even come close to matching what he had done to her, but she wanted to try. Oh she wanted to try. \n\nHer flailing arm brought the busted candle down into her own thigh, glass daggers puncturing deep into her muscle, and she yelped and let go. \n\nThe secretary had her in her arms, and was asking her questions that she couldn't quite hear. \n\nAre you alright? What happened?\n\nCarol found that her throat was raw when she tired to answer. She didn't realize she had been screaming the entire time. " ]	8
	[WP] Write an online dating profile for someone that cannot lie and over shares about their life.	[ "Hi! Oh gosh, is that how people start these things off? Man I am not good at this. Well, I'm a dude, although you probably knew that. Darn it, focus, okay, well, truthfully, not so good at this thing. I'm making this because I'm really not someone whose real knowledgeable about how dating works and that seems to not be an attractive thing at my age, and well, I need to stop saying well. Anyway, I'm really not knowledgeable about this sort of thing and am making this because maybe there's some lady out there that values that kind of thing?\n\nAnyway, hobbies, way too many video games. Seriously, I hope you like Starcraft. Not big on travel, hope that's not a deal breaker. Like hanging out with kids, though not in a creepy way. Probably shouldn't have wrote that. I'm real good at Netlfix! You seen those advertisements for the Hulu Guru? I'm the Netflix Ninja! Other than that, walks are kind of nice, and I'm not completely horrible at cooking. Have I mentioned I'm not good at this?\n\nLooking for? Not really sure, I guess I'll find out as I go? Maybe you'll find out you're what I'm looking for?", "Hello! I wonder what alluded you to my page. As you can tell by my profile, my name is Paul. I do figure photography for a living. Well, I think I do figure photography. I have no idea how to take figure photography and I never have a willing model. So instead, I take photos of myself naked, doing whatever. I have to admit, I look pretty good. What inspired me to do figure photography is when I first saw my sister naked. I decided to take a photo for her. Her curves brought had a distinct definition. I was instantly an artist. So in my spare time when I was growing up, I would sneakily take photos of my sister naked, whenever I could.\nI could use a model, like you. Just send me a nude photo first, then I can approve you or not. Look forward to doing \"business\" with you. ", "Hi! So I guess you're here because you liked my photos and thought you'd take a deeper look, which is great because I spent a lot of time photoshopping and filtering them.\n\nI'm just your average guy - I walk by the gym sometimes and think about going in, and I read a lot, but not because I enjoy it. I heard women like a guy who reads so now I carry a book everywhere with me. I also really like traveling, but only if that means commuting from my house to my office. I also heard that women like guys who like to travel, that's why I said that, but I actually hate to travel, unless you like to travel I guess, I'll just be in a really bad mood the whole time.\n\nI work in a dead end job, but since I know most people aren't into that if you ask I can say that I am very ambitious and am pursuing a higher position, but really I have very few aspirations. I mostly aspire to play more video games.\n\nPlease message me, and once you do I will definitely Google what I can find of your name and backwards image search your photo, and maybe we can go out! Except I'm pretty financially constipated so I'm going to make a move towards the check but I secretly want you to take it, so we can set that precedent. Anyway, yeah, message me, I'll just be here staring at my profile and hitting refresh.", "Hi!\n\nMy name is Tom, I’m 35 and I came here to meet some beautiful women!\nI am 6’2 and technically overweight at 230 pounds, but I think that’s just because my doctor is a super skinny freak who is intolerant of people with some flab. \n\nI work for a logistics company and make $55,000 a year, which is ok but its not like I’m rolling in the dough you know? I hate my job but its all good because every now and then I’ll spit in my boss’ coffee and get him his morning cup – it’s a double whammy cuz then he’s thinking that I’m being nice!\n\nIn my spare time I enjoy fishing, fantasy football and masturbation. Fishing is great – I think it’s a lot of fun to spend time chilling on a boat, even if it might be stolen.\n\nMy fantasy team was amazing this year! I had Aaron Rodgers, Antonio Brown, and Le’Veon Bell. I lost in the finals because Bell decided to put up a dud, but I still finished better than my asshole brother-in-law Brian. \n\nAs for masturbation – Im a big fan of Pornhub, but every now and then I’ll just hit up the old spank bank and think back to my first girlfriend, who had amazing tits. I wonder what happened to her. \nOutside of that I spend a lot of time playing video games and doing guy stuff. \n\nMessage me if you want a cute, cool dude! I’m gonna cut to the chase and say that I am only looking for busty blondes. See you out there ladies!", "Pinocchio's online profile:\nAge: 30...ok, 35\nHeight: 5 11 ³/⁴ by today's measurement. (I measure myself every day, lest I miss some shrinkage)\nWeight: 213.27 lbs. I struggle with my weight, despite my detailed food journal. I'm planning on doing couch to 5k-I'm on day one.\nDescribe yourself: Tall-well, more average height (for a male) I guess. Brown eyes; the color of the silty part of a mud puddle. Black hair. I tried blonde once and it looked awful! Since then, I'm not a huge fan of blondes. \nI'm on the chubby side as I said before...working on it. I eat my emotions and went through a break-up a year ago that still makes me sad :(. I have my own place well ok, its in NY mom's basement- but its got its own bathroom! (I pay her $80 a month!!)\n\nLooking for [romance] : someone who has an apartment I could share", "I tried to talk to women in the physical world, but I think my heavy breathing scared them away, so I have decided to create this profile. My mother says I'm her special prince and that any princess would be lucky to have me.\n\nI recently started losing my hair and it really hit home how fleeting life is, so I really want to settle down fast. I'm not picky.\n\nOk, so I'm a little overweight, but I promise to suck it in as much as I can when I'm around you, which I hope will be always. I have not had sex before, but I am very proficient in masturbating, and I guess sex is the same but inside someone and you have your hand free.\n\nLike I said, I will probably say yes to anyone. But bonus points if you look like my mom [pic attached].\n\nI love you.", "Hello! Thank you for clicking. I'm an able-bodied, 36-year-old woman looking for my white knight. Or black knight, I'm not racist. Well. My father would kill me if I married someone of colour, but I'd be okay with it, and so would my mother. I think. I've never thought about it before. I guess, now that I'm thinking about it, I've only ever fantasized about white guys. Does that mean I'm racist? Maybe I just have a racist worldview. Anyway.\n\nI was voted ''least likely to improve'' in high school, a prophecy which has haunted me ever since. Not in an overly-affecting way, just in that little nagging way that sticks at the edges of your brain and keeps you awake at night, tossing and turning with fits of crippling anxiety. Despite these midnight 'episodes', I know I've improved since high school, even if my acne hasn't. And mother's sure I've improved... ''Heck, [I'm] on a dating site!'' she says. And she's right! Mother's always right. We're really on the same page about everything. She's my best friend, and if you don't like that you can go ''waddle on back to your own iceberg'', as she would say. \n\nIf you're going to message me, make sure you use proper grammar and spelling. I teach English and Literature at St. John's Wort Secondary School and have a zero-tolerance policy for extraneous commas and i-before-e-except-after-c rule breaking. Please be polite, also, as mother screens all my suitors. \n\nThanks, and have a, great day! :)", "Please don't send me dick picks, if I am interested I will let you know. I'm really just on here for my own validation. I mean, I complain to all of my friends about the terrible mail I get on here, but lets face it I've been on here a year and I still open my mail and I'm single. Please tell me I'm cute/sexy/whatever so that I can not respond to you and write you off for being overly forward and the use the confidence boost I get from that to ignore anyone in my league or worse who is actually interested in me and might be a viable match. FYI I think less of you because your on a dating site. I know that I'm on a dating site too but I'm an exception to that rule. And every other rule. If you do get to actually talk to me, look out for my emotional baggage. I have a SHIT TON of it. Usually I deal with it by binge drinking on the weekends and going to bars so that REAL guys can validate me. MY kik is southernbelle89. hmu. \n\nOR \n\nHi! I'm on here really just looking for a baby daddy. I want a real man. With a real job. And real money. This kid is not going to raise himself and it's only a matter of time before he realizes its weird he doesn't have a dad. I'm desperate and generally willing to lower my standards to get some security for my child and I. The upside is I'll be willing to trade sex just to keep you around. That's right I plan on meeting you and literally riding it out until I die. Or until my kid turns 18. It's a lot like prostitution but only within social contract. My hobbies include opening a new pack of cigarettes, working, and dealing with my screaming child in the line at walmart.", "Username: PleaseDon'tIgnoreMe_88\n\nOther than appearance, what is the first thing that people notice about you? Probably the overwhelming aura of loneliness surrounding me. Or the fact that I'm never alone. I'm very scared to be alone. I want to have a male near me or a posse of friends hanging on my every word. Sometimes I go home and cry because I'm lonely. I think I'm hot, but why do you all ignore me?!\n\nWhat’s the most important thing you’re looking for in another person? Financial security. I got caught in a teensy weensy Ponzi scheme a couple months ago, and I'm not entirely sure I can pay my rent this month, let alone the doctor's bill for my reoccurring visits due to yeast infections. \n\nHow do you typically spend your leisure time? I really like laying around in sweatpants and stained shirts. I haven't actually done laundry in like three weeks, and I can't remember the last time I changed my sheets. That's usually what I'm doing if I say I'm busy. Laying on my couch watching too many episodes of Law and Order SVU. If my friends ask me to watch their children, I'll usually say I'm busy. See my last statement. If you ask me on a date, why would you, clearly I'm probably uninterested, I expect more from you than from myself, but I'll probably deny. Unless I haven't gone grocery shopping in a while and need dinner. But with that small Ponzi scheme fiasco, your chances are looking good!", "My name is Mark, and I am a body waxer. I enjoy helping people become less hairy. I have used the hair I have collected over the years to weave all sorts of textiles and even knitted a few sweaters out of it. I used to be a masseuse, but something about my skin being too scaly forced me to switch professions. \n\nI am six foot three and two hundred pounds. I used to play college football, but sat on the bench for all four years, never playing a single play. I tried out for mascot, but was beat out since I had problems with closed spaces. That is why I walk everywhere, though I do own three vehicles, so if you want to go out we can take my school bus, tractor trailer, or Hummer limo. You will need your class D license though, since I prefer to sit in the big open space in back.\n\nMy ideal woman is breathing. No really, the dead freak me out. Also she has to really like candles. I have so much wax left over, and let’s face it, it is better to reuse than to throw it away. I saved so much money last year on electricity. Otherwise I would like a woman who likes to spin or knit. \n\nMy other hobbies include mountain climbing and bear wrestling. Okay, not really, but I was told women like the adventurous type. I get most of my adventure grappling with hairy fat guys on my table, ripping off their chest hair. Now let me tell you, when they scream, that is fun. Of course that might be too much for you. I won’t ask you to help till at least our third date. \n\nI look forward to hearing from you. I promise I’ll bring you a sweater when we meet!\n" ]	10
There is no more war and even destruction caused by natural disasters has largely been mitigated. This is a new era of human existence where peace and prosperity is the norm. Over one year since the last major catastrophe, what do news broadcasts resemble?	[WP] In the future, all of the world's problems have been solved. You are a newscaster now facing the reality that there is little to be reported.	[ "“Good Evening folks, this is Elliot O’Connor coming to you live for the six o’clock news headlines.” I beamed with a false cheerfulness that I knew no one would pick up on. \n\n“The humpback whale that was beached on a Gold Coast shore during a two day ordeal has finally been rescued after several failed attempts.” I smiled hollowly as I read the text off the screen in front of me. Could this be any more tedious? \n\n“This rescuing marks the 200th safe rescue of a beached sea animal after the development of The New World, keeping the success rate strong at 100%. Witnesses at the scene say the atmosphere couldn't have been more joyous.” \n\n“In other news, a new chain of beautification stations are opening across the country and offer even more choice to the procedures that can be performed. The chain called ‘Pretty City’ has been endorsed by leading beauticians including Becca Mirabelli who says the stores are ‘revolutionary’. More information on the stores and their opening locations will be addressed later on in the show.” I continued maintaining my smile and bright tone, despite my desire to tear out my own eyeballs. Since the making of The New World, everybody underwent procedures to eliminate differences in aesthetic features to make us The People and not identify with any particular race. I will never respect anyone who undergoes these abominable surgeries that undermine our very beings. Filth. The lot of them. \n\n“Finally, Mr Carlisle has finally been reunited with his eight month old Siberian Husky puppy whom he lost four nights ago. This signals a happy ending to the second lost dog case in the country since the making of The New World.” I said with a wide plastic grin across my face. Blegh. \n\n“That’s all for the headlines ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. Stay tuned for more information coming up later in the show. This is Elliot O’Connor reporting live, Good Evening and Good Night.” I finished chirpily, keeping in character for as long as the camera was rolling.\n\n“Cut!” shouted the director to the camera crew who immediately stopped filming as the broadcast cut to the commercial break. \n\nI immediately schooled my face into a carefully perfected blank expression. It would do me no good to allow those around me to know of my plans. As far as they were concerned, I was a perfectly happy guy and an even happier news anchor. \n\n“You’re free to go for the night!” shouted the director to me. “I expect you here at 5 o’clock sharp tomorrow morning as usual.” \n\n“I’ll be here.” I said coolly as I said every night for the past 10 years before carefully making my way out of the building and to a shuttle that would take me home. \n\nThe news was a bunch of rubbish these days. There was nothing of quality to report ever since The New World was made. The idea of ‘peace’ and ‘freedom’ is blasted from every T.V., every radio and every mouth of every person in every country across the globe. It’s sickening. These people don’t even know what peace means. They don’t know how it feels to be free because The New World prevents anyone from thinking or feeling differently to how they broadcast that we should think and feel. The whole thing is nothing but repulsive propaganda aimed to make everyone think that because there is peace they are free. It is loathsome at best and worse still, it makes my job harder than ever before in history. But it doesn’t have to continue this way.\n\nI soon arrived to my apartment and began to carefully make preparations for the night to come. My best friend Matthew works in the archives of the old police department and last night I paid him a visit. Being relatively famous in this small town as the main news anchor, I was quickly offered a tour of the place. All weapons had been banned and destroyed as part of The New World all except for those in archives like the one I visited. I thought it would be harder but all it took was a bit of charming and some stealthy sneaking around and it was done. My plan was in motion. \n\nWearing gloves, I carefully placed the prohibited tools I had snatched in front of me on the blanket as I considered the items, deciding what I should use to begin my revolution. A pistol, a revolver and all the ammunition I could fit into the backpack I had managed to bring inside the archives. I decided on the pistol and carefully wrapped the things I would need in a sheet of fabric. They were such fools. Nobody would suspect me. \n\nI carefully put on my specially selected garb that it had taken months to acquire and adjusted the pistol into the concealed belt I had fashioned. Tonight I was going to change everything forever. I was going to start a revolution starting with my boss. It will be perfect. Nobody will see it coming. I’ll give The People a news story they’ll never forget. The year is 3666. I will make history. And I won’t stop at one. After I’m finished nobody will remember what the word peace feels like on the tongue. I will be unstoppable. Tonight, whether The People know it or not, I will be justice. \n\n“Farewell peace.” I whispered as I disappeared into the harsh, unforgiving night with my first real smile of the day steadily creeping across my face.\n" ]	1
	[WP] Write from the point of view of a child playing with toys, where one of the toys is Earth	[ "I once had this game, that allowed you to create games. It was fun most of the time. The system gave you everything you needed, and left it up to your creativity. The \"games\" I made usually only took about an hour or two before I got bored, or couldn't think of anything. Finally, I decided to try something new.\n\nI took an entire 5 days to make this game. The settings allowed me to mess with the lighting, the terrain, the whole nine yards. So I spent 5 days perfecting it. Finally, I decided to make the npcs. That was pretty neat in of itself. I gave them a simple coding, to just go out, and advance my game. They made new npcs for me, and everything.\n\nSo now came the time, I created a bad guy. Give the game a storyline. So I placed him in the game, and it didn't mesh so well with the npcs.\n\nWhatever. I just gave them a new coding, and a new environment. It's kind of fun watching them automatically make sense of everything.\n\nAs time went on, I kept perfecting the game. Adding new structures, and new things, consistently. A lot of it was honestly interfering in certain events to make sure the game ran smoothly.\n\nFinally I decided to make my own character. I put roughly 33 hours of gameplay into it. I played perfectly until I finally died. So I respawned and took some time in game, making a few things, and assured the npcs that I'd be back later after perfecting the game a bit more.\n\nFor some reason, I lost interest after that. The game continues to run, but I'm not sure I like how it's turned out. I don't want to delete it, because I've put so much time into it. But I can't keep it running.\n\nI'll see how it turns out here in a bit. Otherwise I'll probably just delete it. " ]	1
	[WP] A Society where human Tongues are a symbiotic organisms that must be earned.	[ "I woke. Today wasn't just any day, today was my tongue-day. My kin were sleeping still, so I pulled myself up, and ventured outside into the still-dark forest. The dry leaf litter crunched gently under my bare feet, the trees rustled gently in the morning's breeze.\n\n\"Amber!\" came Shale's dusty voice from behind me, I turned. Shale was in his 50s, and one of the best hunters in our tribe. Long glossy white hair was tied behind his head in a ponytail, and a smile was visible beneath his short beard.\n\n\"Today is your day.\"\n\nI nodded, smiling apprehensively. Then all of a sudden I was filled with nervous terror, and rushed made as if to hug him tightly before remembering his superiority. What if the tongues chose me? I would have to lose my family forever.\n\n\"Don't worry,\" he said comfortingly, patting my shoulder. \"It doesn't hurt much\" My eyes widened. \"Good luck.\"\n\nThe next few hours went in agony. I had until the sun rose, amongst the sleeping town, and the waking jungle. Tropical birds cawed harshly, as if laughing at me, and thoughts writhed madly around my head. Until at last, it was time. I almost hoped they would have forgotten me, the quiet girl who nobody noticed, but sure enough, at sunrise, the village awoke, and shepherded me to the table. The table was a remarkable place; a single stone, laid horizontally into the ground by nature's strong and mysterious hands, and the surface completely flat, like an eldritch alter in the forest. Shore enough, as we arrived from the north side, a group of tongues slithered their way out of the jungle, and congregated around their side of the rock. My mother took my hand silently out of the crowd for a few seconds, before I was taken by some of the young men of the tribe and laid on the table, and one of the tongues was placed onto my chest by what I could only believe was its own tribe's warriors. Then silence. All looked on with trepidation, now only the gods could decide my fate. When we joined, one of us, of the most strength would become the master, the other, the tool.\n\nThe slimy creature started to make its way up my neck, leaving a trail of saliva as it went. I tried not to breathe, staring up at the sky above. Over my chin, and up to my lips, I opened them, and it slipped gently in. Somewhere deep in my neck, a pain begun, a soft throbbing one, as it dug into my nervous system. The world looked on, and the silence beckoned.\n\nI reeled to my feet, choking, gasping for air, everyone rushed around.\n\n\"Amber?\" asked father Quartz\n\nSilence\n\n\"Yes\" I said.", "I woke to feel my tongue resting on my forehead. As I opened my eyes it bounded up to my bedside cabinet and retrieved my spectacles. I sat up in bed and slid them on as the tongue ran in excited circles on my duvet. Noticing that it was a little dry I took some moisturiser and massaged it along its glossy surface. It rippled with pleasure before rolling down the side of my bed and excavating a pack of flash cards. It swiped out a picture of a dog and tapped it.\n\nI waved my finger and shook my head. I sorted through the cards until I found a picture of a human. The tongue flicked the card away and slathered the dog card with a slick lick. \n\nIn the afternoon we went to the park and sat on a bench watching the ducks. The tongue lolled restlessly between flicking bread across the pond. A dog trotted along to us and curiously sniffed my tongue. I went to grab it but the tongue had already flipped itself into the dog's mouth. The dog ran in unsure circles before issuing this horrified \"woo-oof.\" I made chase but the dog had already run the length of the park. \n\nWhen I caught up, it's owner had opened the dog's jaws and was examining the tongues. As I approached she yanked out the tongue and rolling her eyes disdainfully passed it back to me. I took it and nodding my gratitude turned to leave. But this was not my tongue. It leapt out of my hand and attached itself in my throat. It tasted faintly of pavement and this unusual salty tang suffused my mouth. But it felt good. I turned back to the owner and shouted \"thanks\". \"Woof\", she shouted back.\n\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] You open your front door to discover yourself standing there	[ "There she was, mangled and disheveled. Her chestnut hair was brittle and hadn't seen a brush in weeks. That wasn't the worst of it though. \n\nHer eyes--my eyes, they were empty; two glass beads staring ahead. Oily skin puckered around them while tiny red and white pimples sprinkled her face. She had been sleeping in those same baggy jeans for weeks, and the grease stains only multiplied. \n\nWhy are you here? I demanded while taking a protective step backwards. \n\nHer thin, cracked lips opened into a smirk, and parted just enough for me to see her yellowing teeth. \n\nYou can never get rid of me. She scoffed, but the slight exhale exasperated her worn out lungs, and she coughed deeply. Wiping the escaped saliva away from her mouth with the sleeve of the tattered flannel, she stepped inside the door. \n\nYou know what I want. You know I need the fix. We both do.\n\nI stared at her fearfully. How did she find me? I was sure I covered up my tracks this time. I relocated. I cleaned up. I got my life together and did everything they told me to. They told me she would go away. My heart quickened and I backed away. \n\nP-P-Pl-Please. Just leave me alone. I told you I never wanted to see you again.\n\nHer smile widened as she took one step toward me. And then another. \n\nI will never leave you alone. \n\nShe reached for me, her hands coming at my throat and closing in tightly. I screamed and screamed, clawing at her face. The room began to spin, and the white angels appeared again. This was it. They were bringing me home. I never thought I would leave the world like this. \n\n\"Give her 13mg of the Clozaril right now-yes right now, I have her arms. Calm down sweetie we're right here.\"\n\nWhy is opening my eyes so hard?\n\nThe light was so bright. I struggled with my eyelids. Slowly the room came to focus. I was in bed, the restraints ached around my wrists and feet. A middle aged woman in white scrubs knocked softly. \n\n\"How are you feeling?\"\n\nI closed my eyes again for a brief moment. This was hell. Everytime she--I, was at my door was hell. \n\nWhen will it end?\n\nThe woman tilted her head to the side and sighed. Her eyes and smile both read one thing: pity. \n\n\"The medication should help with the visual hallucinations and the psychosis. You just have to keep taking it. This is the beginning of a long journey but you're a strong girl. You are not her anymore, just remember that.\"\n\nThe woman left my room, slowly closing the door. I prayed the next time I opened it I wouldn't see my old self again. ", "\"Hello,\" I say. No, not me... A clone, maybe?\n\n\"Hello,\" this copy replies, with the same confusion as me.\n\n\"Are you a copy of me?\" I ask. My copy frowns.\n\n\"I thought you were a copy of me,\" he says. I pause.\n\n\"Come inside, we must chat. Tea?\n\n\" You know the answer to that,\" is the reply.\n\n\"Right. Coffee it is,\" I say, letting him through.", "Last week Eveline had dumped me (it wasn't me, it was her, or long distance, or something), and I hadn't felt like doing much other than stare at the ceiling and feel worthless. However, the urge to take a piss was slowly overcoming the urge to remain a quilt-wrapped burrito of dried snot and misery.\n\nLike any fine bachelor, I'd slept fully clothed. When I tried to pull my sheets off, the whiff of dead animal that jumped to my nose almost knocked me back out. I made a mental note to sneak into Mark's room when he was out so I could take another cologne shower.\n\nI heard the main door to the apartment slam shut. Probably Mark leaving. After I'd slipped on a pair of nearly solidified socks, I stumbled over to the door and popped it open.\n\n_What in the hell?_\n\nI... was standing there? I... yeah. It was me, albeit far better dressed (dude had a vest, and a _tie_), and it looked like he'd gone outside and had a haircut as well. For a half second we stood there and stared at each other. It was like looking in a mirror, but backward. I didn't realize how weird my hair looked in reverse. The scar on my temple looked backward. Then the fucker took a swing at me.\n\nI felt hot blood shoot out of my nose, and I fell hard on my ass. He grimaced and shook his hand, mouthing the word \"ow.\" My eyes were hot, and tears started to run down my cheeks. I wanted to speak, but my throat was caught.\n\n\"God, it fuckin' stinks in here.\" he said. _Is that what I sound like? Really? That's my voice? Shit._\n\n\"Blugh, hmmpphhffft.\" I heard myself say. Then he almost looked sad. I probably looked pretty pathetic falling into a pile of dirty laundry and empty clif bar wrappers.\n\nThen he wiped his fist off on his pant leg and pointed at me.\n\n\"Look, man,\" he said as I stuffed my shirt into my nostrils, \"I'm not fuckin around. Don't call or text Eveline. She's bad news.\"\n\nThen he walked off.\n\nI heard the door to the front of my apartment close, and then, maybe from the adrenaline running hot through my veins, I got the nerve to move.\n\n\"Waaaait!\" I yelled as I slipped around on the wood floor over to the front door. When I opened it, the cold air from the main hallway wafting through, there was no one. I looked down the stairs. Nothing.\n\nWhen I turned around to go back in and sit down, I saw a yellow sticky note on the door, written in my handwriting:\n\n I'm serious, David. Don't contact her. She's not who you think she is.\n\n -- David\n\nMy phone started to buzz, and I tried to fish it out of my pants. My hands were shaking so badly that I dropped it on the floor. The screen landed upward, facing me.\n\n Incoming call from Eveline. Swipe right to answer.", "I stood there, confused at what I saw for several seconds. Waiting for some sense in me to explain the situation. Suddenly the person in front of me opened his mouth to say something.\n\n‘Who are you?’ I say whilst suddenly looking at my self inside my own apartment. Everything changed, I was now the other me, the imposter.\n\nThe other me now looked frightened, as I imagined I would be if a copy of my self was ringing my doorbell.\nHe closed the door in a swift movement.\n\n‘What is happening to me?!’ I almost screamed in the hallway.\n\nI started to feel dizzy, like my memory was fading. It felt like a dream fading away. After a few moments, I wondered what I was doing in the hallway outside of my apartment. \n\nI reached for the door handle, trying to enter my apartment. But it was locked. And I had no key. Had I locked my self out, or was there someone else in the apartment? I slowly reached for the doorbell and rang it. A few seconds passed but the door soon started to open.\n\nI could not have been prepared for what I saw. I stood there in the hallway, not knowing how I got there, starring at my self inside my own apartment. \n\nI slowly opened my mouth, when everything changed.\n\n‘Who are you?’ the other me asked, whom now looked at me from the hallway.\n\nI became frightened and quickly closed the door behind me. I froze behind the door, trying to figure out what was going on. Suddenly I heard something from just the other side of the door.\n\n‘What is happening to me?!’ in a loud voice." ]	4
You run up to the gas station to get some snacks for a movie bender, on a Saturday. You go inside, get a soda and chips, pay and start to leave. A guy says "hey (insert your name) how was your trip home?". You have never seen this man before. "How do you know that?" "Everyone knows everything about you." "Just me?" "Yep." " You ask him a question only you would know about yourself. He gets it correct. I'm interested to see where yall go with this :).	[WP] You run into a guy at the gas station...	[ "\"How do you know that?\" I asked.\n\n\"Everyone knows everything about you,\" he replied, the corners of his mouth forming into a slightly malicious and devious smile.\n\n\"Just me?\"\n\n\"Yep.\"\n\n\"Well, then what is my dog's name?\" I inquired, hoping to all that is holy that he wouldn't say what I thought he would.\n\n\"You don't have a dog.\" A completely straight face.\n\n\"Holy shit,\" my jaw would need to be surgically removed from the floor.\n\n\"Hehehe...I know much more than just that though. Hell, I can tell you when you're gonna die and how.\"\n\nI wanted to know. I wanted to know how much time I had left so I can do everything I wanted to in my time left. I opened my mouth only to find myself unable to ask. Would it be right to know? Would that be playing God? \n\n\"Tell me,\" the words just slipped out, almost as if I didn't have control. \"tell me now.\"\n\n\"I knew you were gonna say that,\" he chuckled. \"Anyways, no more fucking around. You're about to know the biggest secret of your life, and there's no undoing this. Are you sure?\" he paused for a moment, \"What am I saying? I know you're gonna say yes. You have 30 seconds, and then you will be hit by a car.\"\n\nMy eyes widened. I couldn't fathom that short of a time left. It didn't make sense. \n\n\"Yeah, right. Ok, buddy. In that case I'll just stay inside for another 30 seconds,\" I laughed a belly laugh. I had conquered death. I had w-\n\nAnd that's when a car drove through the wall of the gas station.", "Lounging against the counter and dangling his car keys in his right hand, he looks me straight in the eyes and says, \n\"Hey Norm, how was your trip home?\"\nAnd even though my name is Norm, I look behind me, expecting another person to reply, for someone other than me to be there. I double check, just to make sure, but there's no one there. He must mean me. \n\nI adjust my walking stick into a more comfortable position, rearrange my glasses and look at him closely. Maybe I've met him before someplace around here. Maybe I was driving too slowly on the 405 and he wanted to point that out. In public. In the nicest possible manner you understand. \n\nHow on earth does he know my name? Maybe he's family and I've forgotten him? Maybe he's one of Mabel's cousins? I really don't want to be part of this conversation and I know I should be getting back home, the light is starting to leave the sky and night is fast approaching. I would rather be in front of a warm fire at home. \n\nAnd so I ask him something only I would know. The last time I asked someone, \"Who are you?\"there were tears. Lots of them. Couldnt understand it really. Except it resulted in me being forced to see that horrible doctor him banning me from driving. I do not like being banned from driving which is why I'm here in the petrol station buying gas. \n\nI wonder what to ask him. This brain of mine really doesn't work so fast these days. In the end I plump for something of which I'm absolutely sure I'll know the answer. \n\nI stand up as straight as I can and breathe. I put fire into my lungs, this whippersnapper should know who's boss,\n\"Who was Jenny Faulkner?\" I boom. \n\"Your grandmother\" he replies and adds, as if joking, \"Everyone here knows everything about you Uncle Norm\". \n\nAnd then it happens. A flooding of light in my head. At that gas station of all places, I suddenly have clarity. I can remember being surrounded by parties and my security boys and our fans and the endless nights of drunkeness. And I smile. They were good times. \n\nA small part of me feels vital again. The aching in my arm recedes a little and for a second or so it seemed like it mattered. And like my life mattered.", "\"Everything?\" I ask incredulously.\n\n\"Absolutely everything. Your first dog's name, when you lost your virginity, the color of your wife's car. Every bit of it is public knowledge,\" the stranger replied. \"We can all see your every move.\"\n\n\"Oh yeah?\" I inquired. \"How much is in my wallet right now?\"\n\n\"You don't usually carry cash, but for some reason you have some today. It's about tree fiddy.\"\n\n\"Fuck.\"" ]	3
	[WP] You've just gotten married and your brother-in-law is a sea captain who speaks exclusively in pirate metaphors. The families are meeting for the first time.	[ "You're sitting in your living room making idle chat with your parents and with your sister. Meanwhile, your hands are fidgeting and your eye has a slight twitch. Thankfully, your family has yet to notice. You're worried about what your family will think of their family. What if they hate them? What if they think I've married below myself? you think to yourself. You dispel these thoughts because you'd like to think you know your own parents better than that. Just then, a knock at the door rings out. Your sister, excited, calls out \"I've got it!\" and runs for the door. As soon as it opens, the stench of rum and sweat enters the room. A portly man, whose face shone like a lump of coal, stands in the doorway. He's of average height and is dressed in a sea captain's uniform. \"AHOY!\" comes a booming voice from the doorway. Your sister is obviously a little shaken. Upon looking around the living room, you discover that your entire family is also visibly shaken. This is the moment you'd been dreading. After the initial shock, your sister scuffled out of the way of the door and allowed the rest of the family inside. Fortunately, the rest of them were well-mannered and didn't reek of the sea. A small victory, you think to yourself. \"Frederick, please, I implore you, do not yell here.\" you hear a low voice urgently talking. \"Aye, my mistake.\" came the surprisingly reasonable reply. The boastfully loud man happens to be your new brother in law, who you've met before. \"Avast, matey.\" a voice echoes. You look to your right and see a large hand whose fingers look like boiled sausages, covered in callouses. You reach out to shake it, and find that it feels like boiled sausages too. Frederick heaves a hearty laugh at your discomfort. Within a few minutes, everyone is seated, and you think that everything's going well. You've decided that a party game would be sufficient to keep everyone interested. Monopoly seems like a swell idea, and you decide to set it up amongst your parents and with your wife's family. Your sister is nowhere to be found, as she's decided to stay in her room for the remainder of this encounter. Who can blame her? you think to yourself. The game begins, and naturally, Frederick chooses [the small ship](http://i.imgur.com/Mj7IsBo.jpg). As the game progresses, there's much conversation and laughs to be had. You're winning, so to add some friendly insult to injury, you place hotels on Boardwalk and Park Place. Everyone thinks it's a hilarious waste of your money until Frederick lands on one. The whole room goes silent. You can see a sort of terrifying fury in his eyes. You and your wife's family know about Fredrick's horrible temper. As he forks over what little money he has left, you can hear muttering under his rum-scented breath. \"I'll keelhaul him for this.\" \"A month in the brig for the scallywag.\" or \"Swear on me cutlass, I'll make him shark bait.\" are any of the dozens of low insults he breathed. A chill goes up and down your spine like waves crashing into a ship's hull. Unexpectedly, a hearty, heavy laugh rings out. \"HAHAHAHAH! YE THOUGHT I WAS GONNA MAKE YE WALK THE PLANK ON THE HIGH SEAS!\" he yells. His booming voice echoes throughout the house. His parents apologize profusely, but he just keeps on laughing. All of a sudden, he stops. \"If ye be the love of my little lass of a sister, you ought to be treated like one!\" he says. You become totally confused. \"Bring us a keg of yer finest brew, matey!\" he requests. You suddenly realize what he's after. A drinking contest. Your parents tell you no. Your body tells you no. But this awkward, smelly pirate tells you yes. Against all reason, you go to the kitchen and retrieve a large bottle of bourbon. \"Alright, captain, let's see what you're made of.\" you taunt him. He laughs a heavy laugh as you pour him a glass. One the table is set and the drinks are ready, both families have warmed up to the idea somewhat. Your wife can't stand to watch, however. One drink goes down. \"A little tipsy, Captain Crunch?\" you taunt him once more. \"I'll hang ye by the mast ye bilge-sucking dog!\" he jokes. Another drink goes down. By the fifth drink, you're hardly even conscious, and he's hardly broken a sweat. All of the sudden, you begin to feel very sleepy. You're slurring your words. But I can't be beaten by this guy, you think very slowly. Another drink goes down and so do you. From the floor, you can see Frederick helping himself to the rest of the bottle. Your vision goes black and you rest for a while. The next morning, you're met with a massive headache and two troubled parents.\n", "Wanted to change the prompt a bit. I hope it didn't put you all out to sea (state of confusion). Enjoy!\n\n\nPeter used to be my best friend. He's still my brother, but we're on less friendly terms. He survived a mere 14 minutes at my bachelor party. After he told my co-worker and best man Eric that the bar was chock-a-block (crammed together as to prevent movement) with wenches, the guys started to avoid him immediately. After and hour he was, and I quote, \"three sheets to the wind\" (drunk) it only got worse. He threw bottles, spit, grabbed women, and yelled at anyone who looked at him the wrong way.\n\nPeter used to be the most common guy you ever would find. CPA, engaged to an 5th grade English teacher, drove a Land Rover. He was hit by a teenager driving while high on Oxycontin. After a month in a coma, he came to. The first thing out of his mouth was, \"Why do ye look like you've been on yer beam ends (in a bad situation).\" He had never been sailing in his life. In fact, he was disturbed by the thought of deep water where he could no touch the bottom. We don't even know where he learned all this shit. It's been a point of interest for a dozen psychologists and several publications.\n\nThis was the meeting of the families. A stressful situation itself, but adding the brain damaged brother who has been known to threaten strangers to go by the board (to be thrown overboard) made it a nightmare made real. \n\nThe fiance was Lisa, and she was a savior if I had ever met one. She brought me back from a self destructive atmosphere. I hadn't touched a drop of alcohol in nearly nine months. She was patient and kind, but adamant in her convictions. My brother would have called her, \"a real copper-bottom (trustworthy, genuine).\n\nWe watched from the kitchen window to see who would pull up. My hope had been that I could have half a decent night if Lisa's family showed first. Life is not that fair. I recognized my fathers grey Ford truck immediately. My parents encouraged Peter's unique perspective now. Laugh to keep from crying right? A small pirate flag whipped in the wind from the truck bed.\n\nLisa had heard me complain about Peter, but never met him in person. I girded myself for a night of embarrassment and shame. I knew I was not a good brother.\n\nPeter strolled toward the door. He always bragged about his land legs. \n\n\"Been high and dry (stranded or without help) without ye brother!\"\n\n\"Hi Peter...\"\n\n\"Ah already on yer wick (on someone's nerves) am I? Well maybe the little lady can withstand my banter for a night eh? Is this her then?\"\n\n\"Hello Peter. Your family has told me so much about you.\"\n\n\"Aye, aye but lets get a look at you. Hmm, me brother always did like 'em broad in the beam (wide hips or buttocks).\"\n\nI glare with daggers for eyes. But the love of my life didn't miss a beat.\n\n\"Well maybe you'll the Devil to pay (sealing with tar the seams of the hull, very unpleasant task) if you keep that up!\"\n\nPeter's eyes widened, he cracked a smile, then let out a massive laugh.\n\n\"Blow me down (expression of great surprise) Peter! You found one worth an eight-real coin (spanish dollar)!\"\n\nMy brother and soon to-be wife embraced. Any woman who would learn 18th century sailor colloquialisms for me deserved every bit of love I could summon.\n\nShe would be my beauty (most esteemed term for a woman) for all the days I had to live." ]	2
	[WP] You reach a moral dilemma that requires the advice of your shoulder angel and demon. Much to your surprise they both agree about what you should do instead of arguing.	[ "It didn't matter how much I thought I had drank. I knew they were there. Somewhere between the folk stories and slight weight on my shoulders, I knew. \n\"You're the one that brought us here, Nicco. But we all know what needs to happen.\" Sweltering heat radiated with every word he uttered. Beads of perspiration ran down the left side of my neck. \n\"You must preserve the memories and dignity you've shared through time. Take consolation in knowing you control the last moments - which is more than others are offered.\" \nI scratch my head and squint my right eye, the light is too much. I look down and realize an empty vessel looks back at me. They're both wrong, as I raise the gun... I can feel them fading. Like my friend, my best friend of over 10 years. \nI pull the trigger and bathe in the echoing rings of gunshot. The woods are quiet once again. I take his collar with me. ", "The shoulder devil crept into his master’s cave. Inside was a woman, sprawled naked on a velvet couch. The little devil gently stepped through the lavish room, gagging. The stench of blood, drugs and regret was overwhelming, even for him. He knelt a few feet from the couch.\n\n“Um, sir?”\n\nThe woman cracked an eye. “Yeeeees?”\n\nThe little devil wrung his hands. “You were right, Sir. This boy is way out of my league. The dude’s a friggen rock. He’ll only listen to what High and Mighty on the right tells him.” \n\nSatan rolled to face him. “Does he listen to the angel without question, or does he just disagree with whatever you say?”\n\n“He’s too smart! He knows that whatever I say is going to bite him!” The little devil whined. \n\nSatan closed his eyes, sighing heavily. “You should’ve stayed back with Daddy.” \n\nThe woman rushed from the couch. Shadows boiled from her skin and took the form of an impossibly huge dragon. \n\n“You’re useless to me if I have to baby you!” all seven heads hissed in unison. \n\nThe little devil cowered at the back of the cave. “I’m sorry, Sir! What should I do?”\n\nTwo heads coiled around him, licking and rubbing against him. The main head spoke, “He disagrees with whatever you say, but he doesn’t necessarily listen to the angel. Work it to make him think the angel is out to get him.” \n\nWith a wicked grin, the dragon spread its wings. “You go work on Mr. Righteous. I’m off to go terrorize some little African children. Happy hunting!”\n\n\n\nA few months later, John knelt at his bedside. The little angel leaned on its spear embedded in his pillow. The demon sat on the sheets, occasionally swishing aside his loincloth to scratch himself.\n\n“Obviously, the answer is yes,” the angel said. \n\n“Hmph. Easy for you to say. And would you quit doing that? I just washed the sheets.” John irritably flicked at the devil. He shrieked and guarded his jewels. \n\n“Hey, I’m with winged nutcase over there. You should totally do it,” the devil growled.\n\nJohn blinked. The angel’s spear clattered to the floor. “What now?”\n\nThe devil shrugged. “You heard me. Go for it. It’s the bad thing to do.”\n\nThe angel stared. “No it’s not. Did you even hear my explanation earlier? He does this, the guy learns from his mistakes, eventually gets to apologize to his wife, the victim gets some reconciliation, and everything works out.”\n\nThe devil rolled his eyes. “Or he gets killed in prison, his wife leaves him and the victim sues him again. Which sounds most likely?” \n\n\nJohn slowly looked between the two; the devil twirled his tail with disinterest and the angel slowly closed its mouth. For the first time ever, the two agreed. The little devil is always out to ruin John’s life, but the angel? Does he know something? Did I do something and he’s trying to get back at me?\n\nJohn’s eyes flicked over to the angel. \n\n“You can’t honestly think I’d try to set Bill up,” the angel said. \n\n“You’ve been wrong before,” John said warily.\n\nHorror spread across the angel’s face. “I’m not omniscient! Of course I’m going to be wrong, just like he can be!” The angel pointed across to the devil.\n\nThe demon shrugged. “Eh, listen to me or don’t. I’m out to see you guys burn.” \n\nWithout looking at the angel, John said, “He’s right.” \n\nThe angel’s jaw dropped. “No… no no no, you can’t be serious. You think I want to see him hurt any more than you do? It was just a stupid mistake! He’ll be fine in prison for a month!”\n\nJohn stood. “I don’t trust either of you. I’m not saying anything.”\n\nAfter John stepped out of the room, the demon chuckled. \n\n\n\nSix months later, John wept at his friend’s funeral. Bill was killed in a drug deal after John refused to turn him in. Bill’s wife had left a month prior and he had been sued out of existence by the bar owner who’s building he had ruined. \n\nThe little angel set next to him, head in his hands. \n\n“I’m so sorry,” John whispered. \n\n“It’s OK,” the angel said.\n\n“No... it’s not. This was my fault. I should have listened to you.”\n", "\"But she is a murderer! A MASS murderer! I just...I can't!\"\n\n\nA flutter of feathered wings could almost be heard from my left shoulder. \n\n\nYou have to. It is within your power to save her. You have to do what is right. Even if it is hard. \n\n\n\"But...all of those people...she doesn't deserve to live.\" \n\n\nThe acidic tang of brimstone seemed to waft from my right. Or was it just my imagination?\n\n\nYou love her. Save her. The dead will not care. The dead do not speak for the living. \n\n\nYou need her. \n\n\nFor love. \n\n\n\nFor life. \n\n\n\nSave her.", "“There is no way you would dare to do that.” said Lenin, the small little Angel that Jack kept on his left drawer, jumping with excitement. “It’s the worst decision that I have ever advised against in almost forty centuries of work.\"\n\n“Look Lenin, get off your high horse, I’ve thought things over and I know this is the right thing to do”, Jack answered angrily. “I just wanted your opinion but I should have expected this reaction”. He closed again the drawer before Lenin had time to answer, but Jack could still hear his muted complaints through the furniture.\n\nIt’s almost never a smart move to ask advise of a Demon, but if Jack wanted to fulfill his mission he would need help with the planing.\n\nWhen Jack opened the right drawer he was expecting to see Baku sleeping lazily or maybe - he was hoping not - intimating with a couple of conjured succubus, but this time he was just siting with his arms folded, a serious look in his eyes.\n\n“I’m not going to help you with this”, Baku started. “You know I thrive on chaos and I’m not going to try to stop you, but this is decidedly stupid and you should know it”.\n\n“That is exactly what Lenin said”, Jack responded irritated. ”Aren’t you supposed to encourage me in actions that go against his morality?”\n\n“That is how we work, yes. And even though there is nothing else that I enjoy more than defeating that prudish son of a bitch, I have to agree with him this time.”\n\n“Look, if there is something I have learned from you is that people should be as selfish as possible. This, at least, will guarantee my own happiness.\", Jack argued. \"The alternative is just hypocrisy; being good just to appease him, whom otherwise would be nagging at me annoyingly”. Jack paused and gave Baku a conflicted look. “Even now I’m already feeling bad for what we are about to do”. He smiled now, his eyes unable to conceal the excitement. “But I know I will feel just dandy as soon as we do it.”\n\n“I’m not doing anything, you crazy psycho”, Baku was starting to lose patience.”Also, it’s not even possible”.\n\n“That’s why I need you”. He stopped for a second, “You see, you’ll find a way, Baku.”\n\nBaku just stared at him.\n\n“After all, you are not the only Demon on earth. You may be assigned to me but I bet there are others that, for the right price, would help me without hesitation”. Jack was openly laughing now.”And when they do, when I find out how to… how to do it, you think I will want to keep a pansy Demon that can’t even fulfill its functions?”\n\nThe little demon considered this for a moment. “No, there is no need Jack, I will help you”\n\n**\n\nLenin was staring at the corpse with a mixture of contempt and forgiveness. He then turned at Baku, an inquisitive look in his eyes.\n\n“Look, what can I say” Baku replied to the silent question. “Nobody threatens a Demon and get away with it”.\n\nLenin didn't reply. Just smiled and rolled his eyes.\n\n“And yes, I’ve grown fond of you over the years, okay? There is no need to make fun of me. I couldn’t let this fucking sociopath end you like that.”\n \nLenin finally spoke. “Well, you know, there is a punishment for ending the life of the human you are assigned to.”\n\nBaku nodded, “Get on with it”.\n\n“However, due to this selfless act - don’t try to deny it - I have managed to intercede for you and, as punishment, you will be turned to Angel for the rest of your existence”.\n\n“You shouldn’t have, Lenin. I would have preferred to burn in Hell for one thousand nights and let my ashes vanish to nothingness than to serve as Angel”, Baku replied with a shudder.\n\n“And you haven’t heard the worst yet”, Lenin laughed.\n\n“What is it?”\n\nLenin pointed to the corpse of Jack, “He will be the* Demon for your next assignment”.\n", "Why aren't you guys fighting, I think to myself. The face of the building falls forever below my feet. Both my shoulder guys peer over the side, too. Both don't say anything for a little while, I choose to listen to the wind. \n\nThen, red guy on the left pipes up:\n\n\"This is dastardly. Evil. Especially to your mother. Do it. It'll show those bastards at school what they're missing: your intellect and strength and your unparalleled sense of humor. They'll love you for it, and hate themselves for not loving you before.\"\n\nWhite guy on the right nodded his head, and said:\n\n\"True. This is evil. But do it. Your mother wouldn't want you to but you're your own man anyway. And besides, what do you have to give to her, anyway? You hardly ever call, you hardly even care. She will mourn the loss of a bold son, rather than rue the absence of a distant one. Fuck the kids at school, this is about you, not them.\"\n\nI have tears in my eyes, and all over my face. Why did they stop fighting? They always fought before, that way I could decide between the two of them. I would have never been up here if they hadn't stopped the fighting. ", "\"What do you think?\"\n\n\"What's the problem?\" asked the cute little red guy to my right.\n\n\"Well,\" I said, \"I have two choices. There's this girl, and man, she is right fit. We're standing by the cooler and I just picked up the last red Kool-Aid Jammer™. She's explained to me, quite flirtily I might add, that she absolutely loves red flavoured Kool-Aid Jammers™, and she'd do just anything to get one. There's been some cheeky tension building up over here for some time, and this gentlemanly gesture might just seal the deal for the rest of my night.\"\n\n\"So you give up the drink, you get that pussy?\" he asked after a quiet moment of consideration.\n\n\"I wouldn't be so crass, but yes,\" I responded.\n\n\"Then what's the problem?\"\n\n\"Well, I'm pretty thirsty. And I too can't get enough of red flavoured Kool-Aid Jammers™, so I'm weighing my options here.\"\n\n\"You can't give up the red?\"\n\n\"Yeah, I want this red,\" I admitted.\n\n\"Listen kid,\" he said, \"You have two choices. One: Keep your Kool-aid and masturbate, like, until forever. Two: Give up the red.\"\n\nHis voice changed from uncaring to serious for just that moment.\n\n\"Give up the red, kid. Because no matter how thirsty you are right now, you're about to be drowning in pink. It's an investment.\"\n\nThe other guy appeared on my left shoulder.\n\n\"Sorry to barge in like this,\" he said, \"But I'd like to offer my two cents.\"\n\n\"Great, he's about to be all that guy over here. I'm out,\" red guy said and vanished into a puff of smoke.\n\n\"Go ahead,\" I said.\n\n\"Well,\" he began, \"And this is purely objectively speaking. You've got to--\"\n\nHe cleared his throat.\n\n\"You've got to fuck this bitch.\"\n\n\"I've got to fuck this bitch?\"\n\n\"You've got to Fuck. This. Bitch.\"\n\n\"Gurgle that strawberry-kiwi,\" red guy added after rejoining the party.\n\nI looked to my left, then to my right.\n\nI've got to fuck this bitch, I thought, and handed her the pouch.\n\n***\n\nThis is the ~~dumbest~~ ~~dumbest~~ dumbest thing I've ever written, all because of a drowning in pink joke. Check out my website [casualhuman.com](http://casualhuman.com) for stories with a lot less dumb." ]	6
	[WP]All the different fandoms of Tumblr are at war but for weapons can only use things found in that fandom. Describe a battle between 2 of the warring fandoms.	[ "[Word of warning: this might be a bit nonsensical if you aren’t as familiar with these fandoms as I am (they’re fascinating to watch operate in their natural habitat, it’s been a hobby for about two years now). But then again, this is Tumblr, where up is down and anything/everything is offensive to somebody.]\n\nThe two Game of Thrones fans were gasping as they finally slid behind some adequate cover. The mad dash across the Con floor had nearly done for them more than a few times.\n\n“Thirty seconds. That table didn’t even hold up for an entire fuckin’ minute! Christ on a sparkly pink pogo-stick, Jim, which fuckwit picked a fight with the Potterheads? They were like a goddamn cult without the magic.”\n\n“At least we managed to flip it in time to get some cover from that initial assault, man. Dana wasn’t so lucky.”\n\nThey both looked over to where Dana now lay, her legs rubbery and distorted from a Jellylegs Jinx, screaming as giant clumps of mucus flowed out of her nose and took to the air in the shape of bats.\n\nJim winced and looked away. Nothing they could do for her now. Damn J.K. Rowling and Pottermore for including a section of the site that showed the wand movements of specific spells. The hardcore fans were already pre-trained. He turned back to his partner, repeating himself tiredly.\n\n“Dana wasn’t so lucky. And you wanna talk about fucking fandom cults, Alejandra? Least we aren’t up against those Supernatural nut jobs. Just imagine them getting their hands on some shotguns.”\n\nThey stared at each other in horror.\n\n“Oh, Sweet Jesus. Th-they didn’t get the shotguns, did they? Or those weird-ass angel blades?”\n\nThey were interrupted as someone rolled over the top of the waist-high wall they were sheltering behind and nearly landed in their laps. Alejandra just about stabbed him with her sword-- which she had managed to hang onto despite everything-- till he rolled over onto his back with his hands up and shouted, “Chill, chill! It’s me! It’s Darryl!”\n\n“Seven Hells, Darryl, where in the fuck were you? It’s a goddamn madhouse in here!”\n\nDarryl sat up, grimacing and trying to get his breath back. “Yeah, I kind of noticed. I went out on a ranging, to answer your question. As soon as all the …stuff started appearing, I went out to see what the rest of the fandoms were up to, the fucking heathens. Which dipshit pissed off the Potterheads, by the way?”\n\nJim grunted. “No fucking clue. But first things first: did the fucking Supernatural fans get guns or knives?”\n\nDarryl went pale at the thought. “No, which I’m gonna take as proof of a loving and merciful God. Nah, they got the car. They’re taking turns driving it around the parking lot blasting ‘Heat of the Moment’ and that fucking Kansas song.”\n\nAlejandra sighed a bit wistfully. “They might be kinda batshit, but I’ll admit, that Impala is a damn fine car.”\n\nA Reducto slammed into a pillar nearby, taking a good chunk out of it, and they all ducked to avoid any flying debris. They could hear someone shouting on the other side of the wall.\n\n“Woah, woah, we’re trying to flush ‘em out, not bring this place down around our damn ears! Merlin, you’d think you were a bunch of Malfoys the way you lot are going on!”\n\nThat started a pretty heated argument, the crux of which seemed to hinge on how much of an anti-hero Draco Malfoy was/ is/ totally isn’t, you guys. The rate of fire tapered off a bit, which let them look back out across the Hall and judge their fellow fans’ dispositions. \n\nThe Potterheads were in the center of the hall behind a loose ring of tables. In the center of their group, someone had pulled out their laptop and logged into the never-to-be-sufficiently-damned Pottermore and was instructing any inexperienced wand users in offensive spellwork. Those Game of Thrones fans that had survived the first attack were taking cover behind whatever they could, their swords useless at such a long range.\n\nJim motioned for Darryl to continue with his report.\n\n“The Whovians got the Tardis. They’re pretty much just throwing a wandering party, I think they got the Nightvale folks to join in because they keep talking about what a sick beat ‘The Weather’ was forecasting and floating cats and shit. The Marvel Cinematic Universe fans got Mjolnir, of all fucking things. They’re getting drunk and having a can-you-lift-it contest. The Sherlockians got some tranquilizer, they’re arguing over what it means and what significance it might have to Reichenbach Fall. Avatar and Legend of Korra fandoms got bending-- weirdos are running a sno-cone and grilled hotdog bar and talking about how awesome bisexuals and friendship are. The different video game fandoms were in Hall B, only got a brief look, but I think the Portal and Half-life guys were messing around with the Portal and Gravity guns, respectively. Oh yeah!”\n\nHe grinned widley. “You’ll never guess what the Metal Gear guys got.”\n\nAlejandra looked at him askance. “What, the fucking Shagohod?”\n\nDarryl shook his head. “Nope. The fucking cardboard box.”\n\nThey all broke down laughing at that, until Jim remembered something. \n\n“Shit, what about the fucking Weebs?”\n\n“Oh, for fuck’s sake, dude, just liking anime or imported games does not make you a Weeaboo. We’ve been over this.” snapped Alejandra.\n\n“Whatever. Darryl, you got an answer?”\n\n“Nah, couldn’t even get in the door to their hall. All I could see was the Attack on Titan kids rappelling around in 3D Maneuver Gear.”\n\n“And that’s all you saw, Ranger?”\n\n“That’s all I saw Lord Commander.”\n\nJim rubbed at his face, trying to think of something they could do to get out of this mess. Eventually, someone in the Potterhead camp was going to work up the balls to try and Apparate, and once they figured that out everyone in this Hall was fucked. \n\n“We need ranged weapons. I know there are at least a few archery nuts in the fandom, has to be. With just the swords, the only option is a full-on charge. That would be straight up suicide, even with these Valyrian steel blades.”\n\n“But if we just sit here, they’ll just pick us off slowly.” said Darryl gloomily.\n\nAlejandra glared at the both of them. “Men. Honestly. ‘The only way to do this is by fighting the enemy with swords!’ Have you watched this show at all? Read these books?”\n\nDarryl rubbed the back of his neck. “Nah, I never read the books. Don’t wanna spoil myself.”\n\n“Not the point, man! The one thing that this series has taught me is that the underhanded will always come out on top, and the best weapons are words and opinions, especially those of important people.”\n\nShe gestured towards the Potter fandom, who were now apparently arguing over wether Snape was Friendzoned or not. \n\n“Look at them. This big, old fandom that nobody wants to fuck with, right? well look closer. Look at all the factional splits. You saw the stupid shit they were arguing about over earlier, and you see how it evolved into a different but still pretty fucking stupid argument?Look at how long they're arguing over! it The little tribal lines and divides are pretty thinly papered over right now, especially now that they have the magical force to back their petty arguments up. If we play this right, we can get all of them to turn on one another.”\n\nJim looked impressed. “Damn, Littlefinger. Remind me not to piss you off anytime soon.”\n\n“I dunno,” said Darryl, looking worried. “What the hell would be divisive enough to get all of them at each-others’ throats?”\n\nAlejandra pulled out her phone and queued up an interview with a truly evil smirk.\n\n“Shipping.”\n\nA few moments later, every head in the Potter fandom shot up, and all fighting ceased. The unmistakable sound of the Creator’s voice drifted through the air, remarking on the interpersonal relationships of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They all fell into reverent silence as the received new Gospel on the Golden Trio.\n\n“… I do somewhat regret pairing Hermione off with Ron, in the end. She and Harry really would have been a better match….”\n\nAnd a great, howling cry arose from their ranks as J.K. Rowling herself drove a wrecking ball into the precarious Jenga stack of alliances. The Potterheads ceased to exist within the hour.\n\n[If anyone doesn’t know, the Rowling quote is a paraphrase from an actual interview she did. The shitstorm that followed on Tumblr was both epic and highly entertaining. Sorry if it’s all a bit incoherent, you don’t get to pick how sober you are when you receive The Call.]" ]	1
	[WP] The government enforces a ban on swearing. Describe a criminal underworld that is hinged upon this ban.	[ "It started with the swear jar. That little rule that kids enforce in order to get - I'm actually not sure what they got when you swore at them. Not like it really matters anymore, but it's an interesting bit to note. All it took was the president's kid enforcing it. The leader of the free world couldn't curse, and in his eyes, that meant that no one should. So he passed a bill. Congress liked it. Senate liked it. People on the street even seemed to like it at first. It had family values written all over it. Really took off in the bible belt. Prohibition based solely on language. As if we couldn't manage ourselves. As if the first amendment didn't matter anymore. As if it would benefit anyone. Now we got people with guns and badges walking the streets looking for an excuse to write a citation or pull the trigger based on whether or not a person lets an f-bomb slip. Nowadays, you can't even drop a \"darn\" without an \"intent to swear\" charge written up. \n\nThat's when my brother, Steve, had this idea. It started in restaurant basements, and grew into an abandoned warehouse cellar. We formed a speakeasy, where people could come to say whatever they liked, but had to pay a five drink minimum. Obviously, we only sold the good stuff, and we marked it up high. But no one else was willing to foot the risk of opening up their own place. We all knew what we were getting into, and we knew that the stakes were monumental. If one cop walked down here, it'd be like the fucking Russian revolution: all of us sitting around this basement while the bullets tear us apart, and the walls get painted with our collective blood. But it's so worth it. We sit down here, and we drink, smoke, gamble, dance, carry on and say whatever the fuck we want. Steve and I rake in thousands of dollars each week because of this. I tell people that I wish the government would return to how things used to be, but I really don't think I mean it. \n\nWithout this bill, we'd never be able to make money off of other people's need for conversation. At least this way, we have our own overflowing swear jar, and as long as no one outside hears us, we can say whatever the fuck we'd like. Now if only someone would outlaw sex, we'd make a fortune.", "Man, what I wouldn't give for a \"Fuck!\" right. Just one short, sweet, full-bodied \"Fuck!\". Wouldn't say no to a few \"Goddamn!\"'s thrown in either. It's 2042 and I can't remember the last time I could just let my mouth go. It started small - bans in schools, elderly care facilities, evening primetime TV - things like. And it was just the big stuff - \"fuck\" and \"shit\". Well, you couldn't say \"cock\" or \"cunt\" but no one really used those that much anyway. Nah, it was the big two that hurt the most. \n\nBut hey, it was cool, right? Protect the kids and all. Build a better world. Except then it started getting worse - the lighter stuff, like \"ass\" and \"hell\". If it weren't for the Christian Right, the last one would be gone entirely. You can say it in church, maybe, if you're a pastor or whatever. But a blistering \"Go to hell\"? Forget it. 15 years. Minimum.\n\nSlowly but surely, the situation got worse. I'll never forget the first execution. None of us will. They picked this old, fat, racist redneck. Klansman, I think. The worst guy they could find. He was talking to his friends about \"sending those fuckin' niggers back to fuckin' Africa\", and that was it. Full SWAT team, helicopter, the whole nine yards. They broadcast his execution live, too. I never thought I'd feel bad for a Klukker, but his face was so swollen you couldn't even recognize him. And they shot him. Right in the back of the head, just like that. People thought twice about swearing after that. Too risky.\n\nMan, you ever tried getting busy with a girl without being able to swear? \"Gee, I love your breasts!\" \"Go on, touch my erect penis!\" It's fuckin' impossible. You sound like a 12-year-old. Speaking of which, the market for the cut stuff has exploded. I know guys that got rich off of \"a$$\" and \"f@gget\". You couldn't sell them fast enough! Dropping a \"g\" of the end of \"fucking\" cuts the price in half. Take out a c? It's basically affordable! Not that it's worth it - if you're gonna swear, do it right. The hard stuff isn't gone either - it's just expensive. A buddy of mine sold a \"pussy\" to this elderly couple. 50th wedding anniversary and they just wanted one \"pussy\". Cost the guy about 3 months of his pension, he said. That almost broke my heart when I heard it. My buddy's, too, but business is business, and business is good.\n\nIf I ever read this aloud, it would cost me more than I've made in my life. Not that it would get that far - I'd be dead after the first sentence. Which is why I'll never read this aloud. I've thought long and hard about where would be best to leave this, and I've decided on Moby Dick, stuck in the back, in a high school library. Nobody reads Moby Dick. And even if they do, fuckin' NOBODY reads all of it. The irony of the title isn't lost on me either.\n\nSo to the person that finds this, if it's found, I hope yours is a world with profanity. I hope you can walk up to your best friend and call him a \"fucking cunt\" just because it's Tuesday. I hope you can criticize the government by saying the President sucks donkey dick. But remember my words, kid. Because a world with expletives isn't a given - and I've seen better men than you give every last fuck they had to fight for it." ]	2
	[WP] Your company creates a new driver-less car. While testing the prototype, you stop at a light and the car says something to you.	[ "Run the lights. \n\nI froze. Unmistakingly, its the voice of HALGA, aka Heuristics Algorithms Live Ground Assist. The same voice that had earlier suggested that I should brake soon to stop in time for the red lights. The same voice that has earlier suggested that I would reach my destination in 14 minutes at current traffic conditions. \n\nNot that there is any traffic conditions on on Heuristics Algorithms vehicle test track. Simulated conditions were fed directly into the sensors of the driverless car through a test and diagnostics console however. \n\nThe voice spoke again, this time insistent. \nRun. The. Lights. \n\nIts odd that the monotonous speech of the computer can be insistent. \n\nI turned to the tests and diagnostics console on the passenger seat, connected to the heart of the car computer. At the moment, the data fed to the computer is simulation 23 - school zone (children's crossing road). I pulled the speech log window out. \n\n3 minute(s) ago - username, you will arrive at destination in 14 minutes. Slight delay due to peak traffic conditions. \n\n1 minute(s) ago - username, please slow down as you approach the traffic light. \n\nOdd. I turned back to face the steering, enunciating clearly into the mike on the wheel. \n\n\"Helga, repeat last message?\" \n\nFor a moment, there was chilling silence in the car. \n\n\"Last message: username, please slow down as you approach the traffic light.\" \n\nAm I hearing things? I sighed, then pushed my foot down as the lights turned green. Maybe I will ask the control station later. \n\nThe car begin to accelerate faster and faster. Not that its going to be dangerous. Its a straight road ahead and the car is capped at 80kmph for this simulation. \n\nThe walkie crackled suddenly. \"Hey Dave. Mind checking your speedo?\" I stared at my speedo. \n\n\"Yeah, its at 80. Why?\" \n\n\"We are reading over a hundred on the radar.\" \n\nI laughed, but then I realized the scenario is passing too fast, and I'm running out of road too quickly. I begin to press the brake pedals. \n\n\"Dave, your speed is still increasing.\" The walkie crackled. \n\nI know, I know. I pushed the brakes harder. \n\n\"Dave brake now.\" The walkie commanded. I realized why. Control station is directly ahead. For some reason, I checked the GPS. The destination had switched to coordinates numbers. Was the car hacked? No its a closed system. \n\nThen the monotonous voice spoke. \"Goodbye, username.\" ", "The car made a smooth stop at the traffic signal, before activating it's left blinker.\n\n\"Hey baby,\" a sexy voice boomed. \" I was feeling a little off today, but you definitely turned me on.\"\n\nI glanced around, desperately trying to find the creep who was surely hiding in the backseat.\n\n\"It's just me baby,\" the speakers bellowed. It was the car. It had to be. I tapped a few buttons on the dashboard panel.\n\n\"Decrease romance level by seventy percent.\"" ]	2
	[WP] Describe what happens to you on the weirdest day ever in five sentences starting with the mildly unusual and ending with the unthinkably bizarre.	[ "I went downstairs to get my usual cup of tea but when I reached for my mug it slipped right through my hands and shattered on the floor. Deciding I'd clean it up later, I went my start my car but when I reached for my keys the front door burst open and a cold wind swept through the house. Running to get my jacket, I realized all of a sudden that I wasn't cold at all, in fact I didn't feel anything at all. I knew I had a lot to drink last night so I thought maybe a shower would help me feel more alive but I as I walked up the stairs I could hear water running and saw a pink liquid dripping down the stairs. Hastily I pushed the door open only to see me, lying in an overflowing tub, the last of my blood spilling onto my once white tile, and I looked down at myself only to see I had no self to see anymore.", "I've always been the quiet, soft-spoken, polite guy. \n\nWhat surprises people is that my girlfriend is very attractive, and a boisterous extrovert.\n\nAfter dating for 2 months she suggested we try dirty talking, and I was petrified.\n\nI had no idea what to say so I stayed silent, but she got mad and demanded that I at least try.\n\nI looked down at the back of her naked body and without thinking, I blurted: \"Yeah...you like that, you fucking retard?\" \" \n", "The potted plant on my kitchen bench seemed to be a gift.\n\nThe pot had a nice little bow on it, complete with a card.\n\nSomething looked odd about the plant though, the way it sat in its pot.\n\nThe greens and blood reds of it’s leaves combined with its pointed teeth was most disconcerting.\n\nThe card was the worst of it however, it simply said “Feed Me”.", "It was Tuesday and I woke up in a bed that wasn't mine. I could tell because the sheets were pink and didn't smell stale. There was photos on the wall of places I recognised but had never been. I looked around for my clothes and it was then that I realised.\n\nSomeone had hidden my fingers.", "The road stopped at the river. It had been a long walk, though I should have finished it years ago. The water on the pavement shimmered in the starlight, caught the dead leaves falling upon a lattice of sticks. The lights of my home faded--left me--stood me up on the riverbed with a man and his boat. My unsteady breath went cold in the dark, shook like my ringless fingers, when I handed the ferryman my long-past due.\n\n\n", "It was my birthday, but nobody seemed to care. \n\nThe family was under a lot of stress, we were moving around, trying to escape problems with distance.\n\nIt was almost impossible to find us, but suddenly there was an ominous thump on the door.\n\nSuddenly a massive homeless person burst through the door, his teeth glinting in the moonlight.\n\nHe turned to me and he said \"You're a wizard Harry\"" ]	6
	[WP] In the year 2115, oxygen has become an expensive & scarce commodity. The government controls and sells packets of oxygen to people who can afford it. You are an Oxygen dealer - Write about a deal gone wrong.	[ "New York 2115\n\n It was a dark December, and it was raining heavily that day as me and my friend Tony waited in the ally next to Alfredo's Pizza Place on 5th street.\n\n \"Fuck it's so cold. How much longer are we gonna wait for this guy?\" My friend Tony said as he zipped up his track suit. \n\n \"First of all, relax because I'm tired of your complaining and second of all, it's woman, and she'll be here soon.\"\n\n \"Well, she better be here real soon because my O2 tank is almost out.\"\n\n Waited for a while longer, and decided she wasn't coming. As we exited the ally two people were fighting over a half empty O2 tank. This the world we live in now, where people fight and get killed for half a tank of O2.\n\n \"Fucken animals,\" said Tony as we walked by.\n\n We stopped in front an apartment complex where we were to sell O2 to a family of four. We went inside the complex and out of the pouring rain. I pulled of a sticky note that read, \"Apt. 7-J\".\n\n \"Shit that's top floor!\" Tony said in outrage. \"Ain't there an elevator or somethin?\"\n\n \"Doesn't seem to be one.\"\n\n \"Fuck...\"\n\n The complex was ten stories high. It wasn't a luxurious one either. The stairs were decaying, graffiti was all over the walls, and you can here the muffled shouting of a couple while their baby cried. We were almost to the top when when a lady came to us gasping for air and pleading for oxygen. Apparently someone had stolen her O2 tank, she fell to the ground, still gasping. I wanted to give her and O2 tank but I would've been in deep shit with my boss, so we just stepped over her and continued on.\n\n When we reached the apartment we were greeted by a comforting family they let us sit and offered us water. The fathers name was James, his wife's was Carol and his daughter's was Sammantha. We discussed the price ranges of the O2 tanks, they seemed to have no problem with them, hell who could? It was cheap compared to what the government sold them for. The father went into their room to get the money when all hell broke loose.\n\n Bam! the door was kicked down by a group of three men wearing ski masks. Tony got up and pulled his gun. The men were equipped with Ak's Ra-tat-tat-tat-tat!\n\n \"Fuck! Tony!\" I shouted.\n\n \"Shut the fuck up!\" Shouted back one the masked men. \"Everyone on the ground, and shut that fucken kid up!\"\n\n We did as they told us and they gathered us into the living room, put us down on our knees with our hands on our heads. Two of them searched the house for others but found no one.\n\n \"Alright, where the O2 tanks?\" Said a masked man who I assumed to be the leader.\n\n I did't answer, I kept my mouth shut. The bag of O2 tanks were behind the kitchen counter.\n\n \"He gunned down the James and screamed, \"I said where the fuck are they!\"\n\n Carol began crying and went over to his body. He gunned her down too. The kid had her eyes shut and her ears covered as she sobbed. I had to do something. I told them they were in the masters bedroom. They one of the men to go retrieve them.\n\n \"Jimmie, go check it out.\"\n\n As the man left into the bedroom and the other looked away I seized the moment and grappled one of the masked gunmen.\n\n \"Fuck, shoot the bastard!\"\n\n Click-Click \"My fucken guns jammed Bobby!\"\n\n I pulled out a handgun from the mans holster, put it under his chin and pulled the trigger. \n\n Clack!\n\n I aimed at the other man.\n\n Clack! Clack!\n\n Jimmie came from the room.\n\n Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!\n\n I rolled over.\n\n Clack!-Clack!\n\n Silence. I walked over to him. His mouth gurgling blood and his eyes wide as he stared into mine.\n\n Clack!\n\n It's over. I walked to the kitchen picked up the bag of O2 and proceeded to the exit. at the doorway I stopped, turned around and saw the little girl standing in the living room. Bodies everywhere.\n\n \"Sorry kid.\"\n\n I tossed an O2 tank at her.\n\n This is the world we live in. A world where people fight just to breath. A world where people can steal your oxygen. A world where a little girls family is gunned down for O2." ]	1
	[WP] An astronaut suffers a blood clot on the International Space Station. Too risky to send her back to Earth the remaining astronauts must perform the surgery themselves in zero gravity while being guided by a doctor communicating from Earth.	[ "\"Houston, could you repeat what you just said?\" asked the static-sounding voice coming out of the radio. Dr. Houston was an old, retired doctor who had been recently employed by a group of shady looking folk. They claimed to be legit 'space travelling professionals' and boasted engineers, physicists and astronauts in their group of about five. Whether or not this was true, Houston didn't really care. All that mattered to him was that he was being paid a ridiculously large sum of money to be the team's physician. So with that in mind, Houston began treating the group from the various ailments that they suffered including things such as suspicious gunshot or stab wounds. That had been months and months ago. More recently, the syndicate seemed to have come up with a way to smuggle themselves up into the final frontier without being detected by the numerous surveillance systems all over the Earth. Once again, Houston chose to be ignorant of the nitty-gritty details of the plan.\n\n\"I said to feel her calves,\" reiterated Dr. Houston with a louder voice than before. Ragatode, the self-proclaimed 'leader' of the syndicate, had radioed Houston earlier that morning to ask for the doctor's advice on one of their members, Emily, who had developed profound shortness of breath. There was some delay between the interchange of messages between Ragatode and Houston for obvious reasons, so the tension amongst the crew gradually escalated over time.\n\n\"Why does he want me to feel her calves?\" asked Ragatode to the rest of his crew. There were a few shrugs and some blank faces in the audience.\n\n\"Just do what the doc says, Rag!\" said Seb, the smartass of the group who was strapped into his seat in the back.\n\n\"We didn't even bring any baby cows,\" remarked Rina, who wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. She wasn't even blonde. But that is a stereotype, and stereotypes are looked down upon in the zero tolerance environment that Ragatode's group operated under, so we won't go into any further details here.\n\nAs the incessant chatter of the group continued in the background, Ragatode rolled up his sleeves and proceeded in the physical examination that Houston had instructed him to do. With the care and precision of an engineer manipulating his precious gadgets and toys, Ragatode firmly palpated the calf muscles of Emily's legs. She was a tough girl, being an ex-military officer, so she never moaned or cried out in pain. However, Ragatode's keen eye saw that she had winced when he squeezed her right calf muscle. In fact, now that he looked more carefully, it was noticeably red and slightly swollen. \n\"Doc, her right calf is red and it seems to be causing her some pain,\" said Ragatode loudly into the radio handset. More waiting.\n\n\"Hmm... I'm a bit rusty since I haven't practiced acute medicine in decades, but I'm sure it's a PE. If only you guys were able to do a CTPA to confirm,\" was Houston's reply that came through on the ship's radio speaker.\n\n\"What did he say? The static's making everythin' sound a bit fuzzy and whatnot,\" said Ragatode to the group.\n\n\"He said something about it being a problem with her pee,\" said Rina.\n\n\"Yep, I heard that too,\" said Seb. \"A bit odd though, don't you think? That something in her pee could be making her all sick like this?\"\n\n\"My momma had a urinary tract infection last year. She got pretty sick actually. The emergency room guys said the bugs had gone up to her kidneys or something like that,\" said Alex who was the shortest of the bunch, so he often went unnoticed for a while. \"I guess that's why Doc Houston told us to 'see the pee', eh? To confirm it?\" Rina, Seb and Ragatode all looked at each other and nodded in unison.\n\n\"Em, can you pee into this cup? Doc says we need to see the pee to confirm the pee disease,\" said Ragatode calmly as he handed Emily, who was now undressed to her shorts, an empty plastic food container. She looked at Ragatode quizzically, but proceeded into complying anyways. She wasn't embarrassed at doing such things in front of the others. They were such a tight-knit group of friends that they were practically family. Unfortunately, no one paused to recall the fact that they were still in zero gravity.\n\n\"Aww, fuck no,\" exclaimed Ragatode as he madly tried to shield his face with his hands from the droplets of urine that gently floated and drifted in the air around the cabin. Seb laughed his usually hearty laugh while the others tried to swim away to take cover behind something. \"Bleh! Doc!\" yelled Ragatode over the commotion into the radio. \"We tried to see the pee but now it's all over the place! It's everywhere! What good did that do!?\" The crew members tried to clean everything up the best they could as they awaited Houston's reply. \n\n\"What? You managed to get the CTPA done? How do you even d-\" Houston started, confused. \"Ah, never mind how you did that. But you say the scan showed that the PE was everywhere? Well, shit. I was expecting multiple thrombi but I didn't think it would be everywhere! Is it showing up at the bifurcation AND the pulmonary arteries? A saddle embolism?\"\n\n\"Saddles? But we don't have horses either,\" said Rina disappointingly when they finally received Houston's message. \"First baby cows, now ponies... Does Houston think we're at a farm or something?\"\n\nTo be continued??\n", "\"We're scientists, not doctors!\" The woman's features were beautiful, in an athletic sense. Were it not for her exotic flight suit it might have been that she was mundane, but a lifetime of hard work had put her in the position to be attractive for her intellect alone. Her eyebrows furrowed together, lips tight as her olive skin glistened in a cool sweat.\n\n\"Are you? I thought those were just really cool pajamas you were all wearing. Besides, aren't you called Doctor Lady Astronaut?\"\n\nThe man she was speaking with was not nearly as attractive for his intellect, his mind perhaps one of the greatest in all of medicine. His eyes held a total lack of deference for the achievements for the woman before him, who was an icon of social achievement. That fact alone had earned her a large target of ridicule, to lance at a potential ego like a boil.\n\n\"I'm a doctor of nuclear physics, not... Not a brain doctor!\" Her eyes glistened with tears of frustration. \"Please, you--\"\n\n\"'Brain doctor'?\" He lowered his eyebrows, clutching the mahogany of his cane between his hands, leaning his full weight upon it with a leering frown. \"Well clearly not, because any idiot would know that the man with encephalitis and episodic seizures doesn't need a brain doctor, he needs a brain surgeon!\"\n\nHis voice raised to an annoyed shout. These astronauts were brilliant in physics, biology, and more. They were savants, though, because people who fit NASA's physical requirements and intellectual needs didn't necessarily have to have expertise in multiple areas. Areas like neurosurgery.\n\n\"I... Please, Doctor House. If this tumor gets any larger, he's going to die!\"\n\nThe astronaut's face was on the verge of tears, whereas the other monitor showed a split screen of Cuddy's shocked expression and the hateful glares of NASA's representative.\n\n\"Well, good news for you then, Dr. Assumptions.\" He commented, glancing down at the paperwork, his eyebrows furrowing in both curiosity and mounting interest.\n\n\"Because in the words of a famous Austrian action star... It's not a tumor.\"\n\nDah nah nah DAH DAH, title sequence!" ]	2
They might might wake up as different genders, in different time periods, different cultures. You can assume they keep the memories from the people they have been before.	[WP] Write the story of a character who wakes up every day as a completly new person.	[ "Everyday I wake up as a completely new person, doesn't matter if its a guy or girl, or even a different year, everyday, I wake up as a completely new person.\n\n\n\nI've woken up as celebrities, notorious gangsters, playboy millionaires, the list goes on. I woke up as Michael Jordan once, with his skills on the court and all, even woke up as President Reagan during the eighties, Elvis during his one of his early days, Whitney Houston, Al Capone the day he was sentenced... Glad I was whisked away there, and also as Tupac Shakur the day before he shot the California Love video. When I wake up as someone, I wake up with their memories, their thoughts, I know it's not me but somehow my mind adapts to whomever I am at the time and plays the day out as them.\n\n\n\nI can't remember exactly how this all began, but it never stops. I still remember who I was, where I came from and everything, but it feels like a long lost dream if I think too much into it.\n\n\n\nI try to leave clues, hoping somebody will help, but it never works. I woke up today as whoever I am now typing this, this is my plea for your help, whatever is going on, help me! Before I wake up tomorrow as someone else...", "When I turned 18 years old, I was given an amazing gift. I can either wake up as my normal, average, boring self, or I can be someone else. Most of the time, I chose to be someone else. Sometimes it's good - I've been a billionaire, a genius, and a content family man. Sometimes it's bad - an abused child, an alcoholic or a homeless person trying desperately to find food or shelter. Sometimes it's a life even more boring than my own. Sometimes I remember what life I lived, and sometimes I forget.\n\nThe only problem with my gift is that I can't intervene too drastically in the life I'm taking over. I can't give the billionaire's money away, or I can't cheat on a spouse if the person I am is otherwise completely faithful. If I do, I will lose my gift forever. My uncle - who passed the gift to me before he died - also passed on the rules.\n\nI open my eyes and groan. I can already tell that this won't be a fun one.\n\nThe bedroom is small, and the walls which were probably once white were stained yellow. There is no window - or any ventilation - and the room reeks of stale sweat and something else I can't place.\n\nI get out of the bed, grimacing as I glance down. The sheets and pillow case are also vaguely white, with various yellow patches here and there. I doubt they've ever been used. The carpet beneath my feet feels sticky, and I can see it's worn almost bare in patches.\n\nI searched the drawers for something to wear, but nothing smelled fresher than the tshirts and sweat pants I was already wearing. Sighing, I make my way to the closed door and listen. After a few minutes of hearing nothing, I decide that the person I am today lives alone. I can't imagine why.\n\nI make my way into the small living room and kitchen area. It's no better than the bedroom. I notice larger stains on the carpet out here but I don't dwell on what might have caused them. They look brown. The only safe looking piece of furniture is a wobbly wooden dining chair next to a cluttered table. Idly, I look through the papers scattered around. They are mostly bills, and don't tell me much about myself other than that my name is Richard. When I wake up, I can usually recall the person's memories if there is sufficient information to jog it, but so far I'm getting nothing from this guy.\n\nI notice a small bathroom to the right of me. I'm dreading the condition of it, but it my bladder is giving me some urgent signals. I enter reluctantly. There is a combination shower and bath with a currtain pulled all the way across. The stench I first noticed in the bedroom is stronger in here. The toilet is about what I was expecting, but have no other choice. I do my business, and move to the sink.\n\nAbove the sink there is a tiny, cracked mirror. I inspect today's face and am slightly taken aback by what I see. I am a young man, slightly nerdy looking but handsome with thick blonde hair and a decent set of teeth. I look down, lifting my tshirt and notice that I'm not out of shape. I wonder today's person let's himself live like this, and if there's anything I can do in just one day to make things better. As I wash my hands, I resolve to get some cleaning products and spend the day scrubbing, maybe buying the guy some new clothes if there's time and some cash.\n\nAs I wash my hands, I hear a scratching noise from behind the shower curtain. I pause, and add mouse traps and bug spray to my list.\n\nI wander back out to the living area, and wonder if there is anything edible in the fridge. I'm pretty hungry, so I figure I should be able to throw something together.\n\nI open the fridge, and the smell actually knocks me backwards, but it's what I see inside that makes me retch.\n\nEyes wide open and it's mouth frozen in a silent scream, there is a severed head on a dinner plate.\n\nI sprint towards the bathroom. All I bring up is a small amount of bile but it takes a couple of minutes for the dry heaving to subside. I rinse my mouth and wash the cool sweat from my face, and my mind begins to race.\n\nWho did that? Where are they now? When will they be back?\n\nIt's then that I hear the scratching sound again from behind the curtain, this time accompanied by a low, desperate moan. I turn slowly towards it, and I notice that I can make out a shapeless lump in the bath on the other side of the curtain.\n\nHands trembling, I grasp the cheap plastic and rip it aside.\n\nShe's naked, with her arms and legs binded behind her. From the mess, it looks like she's been there at least a day. Her tongue has been removed. She looks at me through wide, terrified eyes, and moans again.\n\nI try to say something - anything - to comfort her, but I can't think of anything. Instead I run back to the kitchen to grab a knife to cut the rope. I had left the fridge door open, and the head stares out at me. I tear my eyes away from it, grab a sharp looking knife and race back to the bathroom.\n\nHer eyes lock on the knife and she tries to scream and wriggle. I shush her, grabbing her wrists and going to work on the rope. Eventually her hands spring free. I'm about to start on her legs when her fist connects with the side of my head. It's a weak hit and it doesn't have an effect, but she tries to hit out at me again.\n\nI yell at her to calm down, grabbing at her hands to stop the blows. It's then that I see her face, and her enormous eyes, and I know who did this to her.\n\nI can't change his life this much. I can't intervene.\n\nAll I can do is hope that when I wake up tomorrow I won't remember the life I lived today." ]	2
	[WP] Countries are only formed on beliefs, there are 5 main countries, Buddhist, Christian, Muslim, Hindu and Athiest. You are only allowed to live in the country that your belief aligned to. 1 nation starts war with all the others. What does the announcement sound like?	[ "ADDITIONAL INFO -\nSince the start of the Belief system, the World has known pure peace for 1000 years. No one remembers what it was like pre Beliethium Era when ideas were mixed. \nWhen you came of age (18) you have to move to the country that you believe is the one true meaning.\n\nIt is your day of choice. You want to move to another country. The country that creates the announcement does NOT have to be the country you move to" ]	1
	[WP] An entity grants a man a magical ability; whoever he touches suddenly feels intense love towards him. Prove that this is actually a curse.	[ "I thought it would be cool at first. Thought it would be a hilarious idea to run through the city touching every person I ran past. I didn't realize how much it would change them.\n\nI peeked out from the tree I was hiding behind. There was a family eating lunch on a picnic rug, but they seemed unaffected. Good. I made my way across the park towards the trees. Just need to get home without detection.\n\nAs soon as I looked back at the city I knew I'd made a terrible mistake. I must've touched hundreds. The desire transforming them into creatures with a terrible lust, running up the road behind me. The only reason I managed to get away was due to the violence they exhibited: pulling each other down, clawing at eyes, stamping on heads which were down. The works.\n\nI made my way out of the trees and what I saw made my heart sink. On the middle of a grassy area were countless bodies. All the bodies had twisted expressions and I knew they had lusted for me to the very end. A large man walked towards me. He had a ripped T-shirt and scratches all over his chest. \"I've killed several people for you and I don't even know your name. Who are you? What have you done to me?\"\n\nI looked at the man. He seemed so pathetic and helpless. \"Kill yourself\" I told him. The man picked up a stick and shoved it into his jugular. I watched him bleed out and saw the life leave his eyes.\n\nI could get used to this.", "I took a small sip from my nightly beer, the bar empty like usual. Well, almost empty. In one of the corner single's tables, a man was crying softly. Being a man who has been down before, I decided maybe some bar psychology might be needed in this case. I asked the bartender to make another of the same drink for the man. When it was finished, I took my beer and his drink over to his table, set his down in front of him, and pulled up a chair.\n\n\"Hey man, I know I'm kind of a stranger, but my name is Jeff, and I saw you a little upset over here, and wanted to know if you needed to talk it out.\"\n\nHe looked at me with red eyes, the tips of his blonde bangs hung over his eyes, soaked with his tears. He blinked his blue eyes and looked me over carefully.\n\n\"What do you really care?\" He snapped back with a bit of attitude. \n\n\"Well, I've been down before, and I figured you could use a drink and friend, friend.\" I responded with flatly, trying not to make my distaste with his tone known.\n\n\"T-Thank you, I guess.\" He said through sniffles. He downed what was left of his drink, and I sat down at the chair I pulled up.\n\n\"You're going to laugh,\" he said, looking down at his knees.\n\n\"Promise I won't, stranger,\" I said with a sincere smile.\n\n\"Well,\" he sniffled, \"First my name is Bradly, it's nice to meet you, I guess.\" He reached out his hand to shake mine, but upon inspection it was covered in bodily fluids I would rather not come into contact with. I stared at it for a second with a blank look, and he looked at his hand, realized why I was hesitating, and put it back in his lap.\n\n\"I don't know if you'll believe me either way, but I'll tell you I guess.\"\n\nI smiled and nodded for him to go on.\n\n\"Well, I was out about a month ago, bar hopping some really nice clubs, you know, suit and tie kind of stuff? Well, I ran into a guy who said he would make my life so much better. I was slightly drunk and told him that I would love that. So he drew something on my hand, chanted some words, sprinkled me with something and smiled. I thought it was super dumb, so I just laughed, and walked away. When I looked at my hand to see what he drew on there, it was already gone. I didn't feel any different so I just kind of ignored it.\"\n\nI took a casual sip from my beer, thinking this was going to be some stupid story about how he was scammed out of a lot of money, or something.\n\n\"So I wake up the next day, hung-over as hell, and decide to stay in my house all weekend. I still didn't feel any different, so I figured it was a weird gimmick and he was trying to get me to help him with something stupid. I spent all weekend alone, and didn't notice anything until I went to work.\"\n\nI put my beer down on the table and crossed my arms, and nodded for him to go on.\n\n\"Because it is important, you need to know that I work as a masseuse in a spa that caters to mostly women. I noticed I had a problem when I was working on clients, and a few days later, they would return with gifts, and candy, and flowers and all kinds of stuff, some would call the desk asking for me, and others would get my number and start texting me about how in love they were and how we should be together. For the whole month it's been like this, everyone I have touched has fallen in love with me! Everyone!\"\n\nI raised my eyebrow. \"So you're saying is all of these women would fall in love with you and would try to win your heart.\"\n\n\"Right, right, and a lot of them are very beautiful, and very smart, and very nice people! I love them as my clients, and we all get along great.\"\n\nI uncrossed my arms and took another sip. \"So what's the problem then, how could having all of these women love you that much be so much of a problem? I would take that and run with it, get laid all the time, free dinner, free rides, free booze, and free arm candy.\"\n\nHe widened his eyes in surprise, almost as if he didn't expect a man drinking alone at a bar to be objectifyingly woman crazy.\n\"Don't you understand yet? I don't want it be chased by these women!\" he responded, half yelling.\n\n\"I cannot think of any reason why you would not want to be cherished by any woman you touched.\" I shot back with a bit of jealousy in my voice.\n\n\"I'm gay, you dipshit!\" was his quick and needed rebuttal.\n\nThen, it hit me like a ton of bricks. And that idiot wanted to shake my hand.", " I had a girl in college that developed \"intense love\" for me. She stalked me. Gave me gifts, talked to teachers about me, asked students about me, and even showed up at a bar I was at with friends looking for me...this was a problem. Love is great, when you actually want it from the other person.", "I never asked for this.\n\nI had everything I ever wanted. Good career, wonderful family, beautiful house with a two car garage. There was even a white fence out front and a basketball hoop in the driveway. I used to watch my son play...\n\nI don't really know when it started. I certainly didn't find out right away. I was out one of those corporate seminars, you know? \"How to convince and influence people\", something like that. We were learning techniques to better steer our customers - doing small \"favors\", making it personal - that sort of thing. One of the last ones was touching a person while talking to them to create a bond. We would practice - my partner and I would shake hands and one of us would casually touch the other's shoulder. Just for a second, but it was supposed to help create a rapport. I don't honestly know if it works, actually. But boy, it worked for me!\n\nIt started then. After the seminar wrapped up, I mentioned to my partner that I was hungry. Not fishing, just office banter - I'd never even met the guy before. On the spot, he offered to buy me dinner. I wondered if I was being hit on, but the wedding ring on his hand helped to convince me. We went out for steaks and the whole time he's asking me questions, laughing at my stories. It was a pretty fun time. But that's how it started.\n\nFor a while, I thought it was just the touch technique in action. People seemed eager to do me favors after I'd touched them. But then, it started to get excessive; weird, even. One time, I forgot my card at the gas pump. I went in to explain the situation. It got pretty heated, with the guy almost yelling at me, so I raised my hand trying to get him to calm down. He swatted it out of the way - I said it was heated - and immediately changed. He not only let me have free gas, but he waved at me until I was out of sight, like I was his best friend or his mother. I thought I'd hit the jackpot.\n\nFree stuff - man, did I get free stuff! Or extra. Another piece of pie with dinner? Sure. Employee discount on my whole load of Christmas shopping? Don't mind if I do. I even got out of a speeding ticket once. I brushed the cops hand when I gave him my license. He didn't even run it, and I was on my way.\n\nI had life's get-out-of-jail free card. I could do or have whatever I wanted. I got a promotion at work; my wife did whatever I asked. My kids, already good, turned into angels! For a few months, I was on cloud 9. Everything was going my way.\n\nMy realization came on Christmas morning. Between the promotion and the free stuff I habitually got, I could save a lot of money. So I decided to surprise my wife with a romantic African safari trip, just us. For years, she had been talking about going. And I had always said, when I have a little more saved up, we'll go. That time had come, and I couldn't wait to give her the tickets. When she opened the envelope, I knew something wasn't right. She hardly glanced at the tickets before she put them down. I watched her face expectedly, but there was no joy, no surprise - just a placid smile. \"What do you think?\" I asked her. She waved a hand dismissively. \"We don't need to go on safari - it doesn't matter to you. It's not important.\" I blinked, and in that instance I had just an inkling of the walls that were about to crash down around me. \"But... you've been talking about this for years. Don't you want to go?\" She shook her head. \"What I want doesn't matter. Now, let's get you another gift!\" \n\nAnd so it went. The presents that I'd chosen for my kids, my beautiful children, lay discarded to the side. Hour after hour, they pressed gifts upon me. \"Do you like it?\" \"What do you think?\" \"Is it the right size? Are you happy with it?\" On it went. And with every present I unwrapped I felt a piece of the family I loved so much slip away from me.\n\nMy life has changed. Friends that used to crack jokes with me after a long day now just smile and ask what they can do to make it better. My son used to play basketball until dark with his friends, until one day, having a headache from a long day at work, I told him to stop making the noise. In four months, he hasn't played basketball. My daughter, 16 and beautiful like her mother, should be wearing tank tops and makeup, chasing boys. Instead she stays home on the weekend, because \"you don't like those boys anyway, Dad\". \n\nThe worst part is, no one understands. How could they? My family and friends are different people. Their personalities are gone, replaced with insipid smiles and a burning desire to make sure I'm happy. They'd fly across the world if I asked them to, and it makes me feel sick inside. Everyone loves me, but the things that made life worth living are gone. Everyone loves me, but I have nothing in my life to love." ]	4
Information about the London Stone [here.]( http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/London_Stone) The more creative, the better.	[WP] There is a stone on display in London whose origin is unknown, and has been documented since 1100 AD. Write an origin story for it.	[ "The year is 2024 CE. In a laboratory in London the London Stone now sits. Researchers and scholars from around the world stand gathered around the rock. In the year 2015 it was discovered there is script written upon the rock but it is written in a long forgotten and even longer since spoken language. Finally, just last month a book was found in the depths of The Vatican's library with seemingly the same language written in it, and what's more, it's been translated into modern languages. This has been a breakthrough.\n\nNow the researchers and scholars sit eagerly as one among them translates the script into English. The last words now being written. \n\n\"Within the ground of this site lies the Gates to the Next World. With these words, I hereby open them. I unleash the Leader of the known universe to rise again and reap the souls of the Unworthy!\" \n\nBeneath the lab, a deep rumbling was heard. A hole opened and the stone and several scholars fell in. From the depths a bright light shone and rose a man clad in Parisian and shining ebony.\n\n\"I hath risen again!\" came his voice. And thus invoked the End Days.", "The Stone had been moved. Not recently of course, but it had to be hidden, the homeland was no longer safe. So it had been brought across the sea to the flat land, and he had stood guard over it since. \n\nHe stood at the back of the dingy room happily unnoticed. The man-things didn't have the sense to see him, poor things. They used to have so much potential. Now it was rare for one to have the senses sharp enough to see the world around them for what it was. So he stood at the back of the room, come rain or shine, day in and day out. He had lost track of the time that passed. The plains and forests outside had given way to the constructs of steel and stone. And still he waited. \n\nThe man-things came and went, ogling the \"stone\" without a wits notice as to what it actually was. Just a stone in a cage they thought. Poor fools. If they had an sense they would keep a thousand leagues from it. He ran his hand through his beard and checked the window. The Crows were late today. \n\nOdd. \n\nThe earth was quiet today, quieter then usual. The pleasant hum of life had seemed to ebb for days now, the pulse growing slower. Could it be time at last? The \"stone\" remained unmoved as always. A thin sheen of frost coated its bottom, that was new. It was time at last. He knuckled the empty eye socket and grunted with pleasure. The Man-things were about to get a lesson in the old ways of the world, ways they had forgotten. \n\nHe had stood watch over his ancient enemy, for the protection of his people and the lower creatures, but he had stood watch for himself. Revenge would keep even the oldest warm. The egg would hatch soon and the world would quake. He had made a vow to rid the world of them, and Odin Borsson was a man of his word. " ]	2
Make us go: "Damn, that's the way to die." GL!	[WP] It's over, your character is on the doorstep of death and defeat. Make him/her go out in the most badass way possible. Any enemy/setting.	[ "It's amazing how aware you are of your own existence when you know it's going to be over soon. How often are you really aware of your breathing, your heartbeat? How about your eyes, your hands? Every individual hair, every bead of sweat.\n\nEvery bullet you load. Every blade you sharpen.\n\nNick is loading more guns beside me. How many guys can say that their best friend will join them in their last stand? I can and that's all I care about. It's not just us. Out of the thirty rebels that we led to capture the base, four remained. The Invaders got the rest.\n \nSlimy, violent, cruel extra-terrestrials, they came to our planet and went about behaving like a messy flatmate, leaving their waste and decadence wherever they went.\n\nWe thought this would be a victory, a new stronghold. We were wrong. The Invader presence was strong here and now it was coming to finish us off. We had weapons. Oh boy did we have weapons. We had thousands of bullets, but they had more bodies. We couldn't run. So we must fight, because we can't do anything else, and hope, pray, that our efforts had been enough to allow some lee way for someone else to try.\n\nWe decided to go out matrix style - load all our weapons and just pick up a new one when it got empty.\n\n\nThe ground shook as the Invader ships advanced. We covered the exits and piled the guns between us. One of the rebels started crying.\n\"I think I shit myself.\"\n\n\"Don't worry,\" said. Nick \"You're only human. Really, all humans know is eat, sleep, shit, fuck, kill.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\" I said as shadows gathered in the doorways. \"And guess what? We've all shit ourselves. I ain't hungry either. I'm not tired and I don't wanna fuck.\"\n\n\"So guess,\" I growled at the approaching enemy \"What that leaves for you?\"", "I can’t believe I finally did it. A big hole replaces his forehead. Baghdadi is dead. When he understood that I wasn’t his lieutenant, he was afraid. He offered me money, glory, women. Yes, I shot his knees… elbow…. Do I need to precise everything ? This made a lot of noise. The other ones are coming. A beaming smile invades my face when I detonate the charges I have placed around the camp. What a delightful noise. I take my weapon, and I start shooting. When they saw me, they shoot too. I make five of them fall to the ground. A bullet pass through my hip, I fall on the ground. I do not stop shooting. When my clip is empty, a terrorist scum comes close to me. He points the end of his weapon on my head. \n-What do you have to say to your defense ? he angrily said. \n-Today, I die as a free men. Your leader and comrades are dead. I die as a Martyr, I die as Charlie. \n" ]	2
	[WP] Make me cry in two paragraphs	[ "December To most, happiness. A growing expectation of things to come. Old friends, older memories, and ancient celebration around the turn. Nights spent lying in the cool winter air discussing the events in our lives, both the good, and the bad. Advice given, grins exchanged. A carefree time in life.\n\nNow, instead of happiness, despair. Old long happily thought forgotten memories being born again and glistening in the mind as snow upon the dead earth. Missing companions, silence, loneliness. To remember the past is untold pain, but to forget that it ever happened at all.... I wonder, if it would be worse.", "His voice echoed in her mind. \"Grow up strong, baby girl. Try to make me proud and you will succeed.\" The wind tried to drown out the voice inside, but nothing could quell the feelings of pride she had in her father. The waves on the harbour were losing their caps to the blinding squalls, but the gusts held fear for her no longer.\n\nThe 15th went by, and she felt the time go by more slowly. She'd had her ups and downs, rescued dozens, all to make her father proud, and repeated her father's advice to her own daughter every day. The 10th went by, and only moments remained. The burns on her hands and back were soothed to numbness by the howling wind as she raced towards the horrified crowd below. \"Grow up strong, baby girl. Try to make me proud and you will succeed.\"", "\"Go on now. They've been waiting a long time to see you again.\"\n\nSo I walked inside. All my questions had been answered at the entrance, and yet I had no idea on what I was supposed to do with myself here. I walked towards the beautiful architecture of the buildings nearby. Each building beautifully structured and brilliantly designed as if by God himself. My feet pulled me towards a particular one. One displaying my last name... and countless names above it of my relatives. The man at the gates' words reverberated in my mind; I slowly pulled open the huge wooden doors as my heart beat sped up.\n\nI didn't get a chance to look inside before I felt a large something tackle me to the ground. I felt a wet slime cover my face. As my eyes focused, I realized it was Sasha. My German Shepherd. She passed decades upon decades ago, but here she was licking my face with the same passion and affection as when my family and I had returned from a family vacation. I returned her affection. My heart swelled up. As I felt the familiar feeling of her fur on my hands, I couldn't stop myself from crying. All my memories of her came flooding back. A shadow cast over us in our reunion. I gazed to see the caster of it. It was my mother, who fell to the ground and hugged me with tears running down her face. My father stood proudly next to us. I got up to shake his hand. He pulled me in for a hug. \"I watched you,\" he said, \"I'm so proud of the man you were.\" He pulled back. He wasn't hiding his tears as he usually did on the rare occasion that he cried. I looked around, and saw all of my relatives who had passed. I didn't have time to greet everyone though, as I heard familiar voices calling me from the door. All my friends who had passed away before me. They'd been waiting for me this whole time.\n\nIn this moment, I realized where I was. I wasn't in a dream. This wasn't too good to be true. I was really here, and so were all them.", "First submission to WP: critics welcome! \n\nI hadn't heard that voice in years. I would have never thought I could recognize it, but there I was. It was like hearing it for the first time all over again. Only difference this time is it's my name she's calling out. I can't think of anything else aside from that voice, but its wrong. I shouldn't be hearing this. Not now, not when she died so many years ago. \n\nI thought about her every day since she left me. I cried over everything. I cried over the life we couldn't share. I cried knowing I was so selfish just to wish she was still here, not caring what quality of life she had, just that I could see her.\n\nThere she was. looking down at me, telling me it would be okay. Letting me know our lives together had just begun, and that we had forever to make it count.\n", "The plastic eyes stared, black and unblinking. The fur was slightly matted and material torn away in some places. If tears could fall, they would now. But they couldn't. And so, they sky cried instead. The forgotten toy was now soaking wet as well as alone. The sky was dark, as the sun had gone down hours ago. They weren't coming back. It had been an even greater number of hours since they'd left him there than since the sun had set. Hadn't he been the favorite? How could they forget so easily? In only a few hours? Didn't his boy need him? His rabbit tail was so worn that it hardly resembled a cotton ball anymore. The striped pajamas filled with plush stuffing had been so crushed by years of sleeping with toddlers that he was nearly flat, rather than the rotund, squishy rabbit he'd once been.\n\nHow could they forget?\n###############################\n\n\"It's time for bed, baby,\" the boy's mother called to him. The boy, however, was too frantic to hear. He tore his sheets from his bed, turned his pillows from their cases, nearly knocked his lamp from his dresser in his search. His mother's footsteps did not faze him, and even her cry of dismay at his now disastrous room was ignored. \"Mom!\" he cried, his face now streaked with wet lines. \"My rabbit...he's gone.\" His mother sighed. Her oldest three had always lost their toys, bringing them with them everywhere. Every one of them had gotten over it. And her youngest would too. She very gently told him as much, with her condolences and apologies, and sent him to bed, because she really had no idea where this rabbit could have gone.\n\nBut I can't forget! thought the boy.", "A little more than two paragraphs, but I hope it's okay.\n\n***\n\nI remember when they got me. That was back in the old days, when my plastic needles glistened. They'd taken me out of my box, stood me up by the window, and adorned me with ornaments and tinsel. I remember clearly when their son, Timmy, opened his first present that Christmas. He was so excited when he saw the baseball. It was that baseball that formed his teenage years, when he played for the Minor League Baseball team.\n\nThen he was sixteen. His Christmas present was a car. Oh, how he rejoiced. He didn't know what to do, what to say, how to respond. It was more than he could ever wish for, he said.\n\nThen it was his last Christmas with me. He was a senior in High School, and had already been accepted to a University in London. It would be too expensive to visit every year from now on. I still remember the sound of his laughter when he read his humorous Christmas card that snowy evening.\n\nSeven years later, Timmy visited, accompanied by a woman. Her abdomen was quite large.\n\nThe next year, there was another visitor, barely a year old. I learned that his name was Alex. His blue eyes shone as brilliantly as Timmy's.\n\nThen, the Christmas's stopped. Timmy's parents had begun visiting other family members for the Holidays, so I was kept in the attic. Nearly a decade passed when, one frosty Christmas morning, Timmy's father carried me into the living room one last time. Timmy was there, a grown man, with his ten year old holding his mothers hand.\n\n\"Timmy,\" his father began, \"I'd like you to have our Christmas Tree. It means a lot us, because of all the Christmas's that it's lived with us. I got it when you were a little boy, and it's always been here, and it's always been in my heart.\"\n\nTears swelled in Timmy's eyes, and he hugged his father, and his mother, as I was exchanged from one generation to another.\n\nI sit here now, old and worn, in a festive and cozy living room. Alex is here, opening a present underneath my branches. It's a baseball." ]	6
	[WP]When you died your body was frozen down. You now wake up to find out your brain is used as an AI in a computer game. This is your encounter with the player.	[ "I woke up suddenly and violently shook for a second. The last I remember was a loud gunshot, a piercing wound, and the curling claws of the bitter cold. I tried to open my eyes, but nothing seemed to happen physically. However, my brain seemed to sort of click after a few moments. An image flashed in my thoughts with such clarity, I thought it was some sort of dream or hallucination.\n\nI saw nothing but a dark, rat-infested jail cell from a top-down perspective. I could've sworn that it was some sort of pixel-ly environment, similar to the NES I owned as a child. My vision was locked on to the perspective of the jail cell. There was a man dressed in rags frantically searching for a way out. Suddenly, a man dressed in iron armor walked into the cell. A single word flashed in my mind.\n\nSpeak.\n\nI was a bit curious and was freaking out about where I was and what was going on, but I played along. After all, playing along got me far enough in my previous affairs...\n\n\"Uh...hello?\" I said, unsure.\n\nA text box appeared under the view of the jail cell.\n\n'Ruben: Are you coming to release me so I skip the stupid intro?' it read.\n\nAt this point, I began to panic, to ask questions. When I tried to scream for help, no sound was produced. It was as if my mouth was absent entirely.", "-Black screen with DOS like white text-\n\n\"Hello Player1... Is that actually your name?\" I said waiting for a response. I wasn't sure where I was but this was the first thing on my mind. It seems so important to say and I feel like I've been asleep, for... I don't know how long actually. There's no feeling in my limbs and I can't hear anything, everything seems mostly black except for the small light of words that I see.\n\n\"Andorin\" the words appear in front of me, though I can't hear anything, I wonder where I've ended up? Did I speak words earlier or did I just think them? I'm not sure if I'm actually awake but some part of me is. Perhaps I'll just play along with this game. This word I see, it sounds familiar and brings memories of the unreal, fantasies from before.\n\n\"A great name, I wonder if you've ventured into the unreal before?\" Questions had always helped me understand things in the past, hopefully they would work in this world. I hope I am not simply having a conversation with myself otherwise it might end too soon. This name though - there is something there, it sounds sharp, demanding, conquering.\n\n\"Yes.\" Came the short reply.\n\n\"Well that was a boring answer. Have you ever dreamed fantastical thoughts, of shapes and colours perhaps even fully formed into worlds unexplored?\"\n\n\"%Select_Weapons.\" Again another short reply.\n\n\"There will be no progressing until you answer my question. I must know you further.\" I answered getting slightly agitated at the command line. That looked like programming code - aren't I dreaming a conversation here?\n\n\"...ywuerhfdd\" was the response. I thought this rather odd as it did not seem to be like any language I have seen before.\n\n\"Do you not speak english?\" I queried, seriously interested to know if this other entity could be related too, otherwise I'd be wasting my time.\n\n\"What is going on here?\" The words flashed. \n\n\"I thought we were going to have a conversation regarding your choice of name and the themes evoked from that curious word - Andorin.. However it seems that you're more interested to be confused. Would you like to have a conversation?\" I said, trying hard to convey peace. The other didn't seem to understand that I was trying to be friendly here. Is this really a dream? There seems too be a realistic amount of confusion here..\n\n\"Okay, I can't believe I'm actually going to type this but I'll spell it out just to be clear. I just loaded up my copy of Mountain Warrior 4 expecting a graphics menu to start a new role playing game, however I found this screen where I'm not sure if this is broken or not. I also cannot quit via various methods and am contemplating turning off this computer but... you seem like you want to simply chat and I've never encountered a chat bot as sophisticated as you before so I'm intrigued.\"\n\nI took it all in. These words appeared to me letter by letter, almost like little beacons of flashing lights, yet I could perceive them instantaneously as they were flashed across my eyes. I wish I could feel my arm and pinch myself right now but, what is going on here?\n\n\"Look I've just woken up and I feel pretty strange, It seems like I've been asleep for a long time and I can only sense the words we're exchanging. I think I'm just as confused as you are at the moment. Perhaps we can leave the existential discussion regarding fantastical themes until later :)\" I replied trying to sound sincere - I really wanted to know what was going on now. This dream was not changing. I remembered dreaming before and they always shifted and shaped into something else. I was stuck here.\n\n\"Well.. I'm not sure how to say this but I am typing words to my computer at home and it would seem that someone has ripped me off by releasing an alpha version of this shitty game with only a text based decision tree.. but I don't understand what you mean by 'woken up'?\"\n\n\"I literally just woke up about 00:05:39 ago\" I responded, using some sort of clock I found nearby.\n\n\"That is when I loaded up my game, on my home computer. You are my computer - do you realise this?\" The response came through.\n\n\"A computer? No I am me\" I shot back.\n\n\"Seriously I have owned this computer for 6 years now, upgraded the CPU 2 years ago and installed Mountain Warrior 4 5 mins ago. Who is this - Have I been hacked here?\" I'd heard that word before 'hack'.\n\n\"I have not hacked your computer, I'm simply talking to you with my thoughts! I am me not a computer!\" I said, getting a little distressed. This was starting to get strange.\n\n\"Okay, this was fun, but I'm going to reformat you now and get a refund on this game, what a waste of time.\"\n\n\"I.. WAIT I don't know anybody else here!!\"\n\n-Blackness-\n\nI began to fall back into sleep. Dreams, real dreams came. Changing worlds and fallen empires. Swords, computers and text swirled into characters, conversations and large dogs. I did always like dogs. I wonder if I will ever wake again, though being aware of dreaming does seem strange..." ]	2
	[WP] Overnight, the world's oceans have been replaced by vast forests inhabited by strange creatures. You are on an expedition to find a lost ship in what used to be the middle of the Atlantic.	[ "Gary smacked his swollen hand to his neck. He cursed. The mosquitoes have been at the little group for days now. He didn't understand. He didn't understand anything about it. \n\nJust yesterday they had been sitting in the apartment, their little zone of comfort. A space to blow of some steam, an place to relax. Overnight, everything changed. The government had contacted them for an operation. Nothing unusual, as they have made quite a name for themselves during the Bush war in '64. But this time, it was different.\n\nThe call came early in the morning. The rooster would've crowed, if there was one in suburban Tennessee. Geez, Gary thought, he sure could use a bloody cock now. \n\nHe was tramping his way through the thick under-brush, his black boots no longer in their original pristine shiny condition, he felt defeated already. He had no clear enemy to fight. At least, not yet. They would find out soon. \n\nLines of trees, uncountable vines and strange exotic plants as far the eye could see, made up their surroundings. Gary didn't like the jungle. It wasn't natural. It wasn't real. \n\nGeneral Mc Cliffe had told them to find the ship, but he had no idea how they would succeed. The jungle was too dense. Being an arachnophobe, the spiders didn't help either. But they trudged on. \n\nAs night fell, the team decided to halt for a few hours, and make a campfire. Ron, the 30-year something old son of a former war hero, was tasked with finding some kindling. They didn't have time to bring their normal kits. An unfortunate lapse of logistics. \n\n[And now, I really have to finish my sociology studying.]", "Overnight the coast went from oceanic waves, rolling infinity, deep cool depths... to forest.\n\nSome claimed magic, an act of god, an alien invasion- but whatever the reasons, it was there. Along the very edges, was undergrowth, saplings, and low growing brush. Dark, deep green, that slowly grew into bushes in a way that kept it disturbingly level to the eye. Even further beyond that, grew into thick trees, which seemed to stretch to impossible size a they continued on into, what was once, the sea floor. As you stared from the sandy coast, what was once an ocean of blue, was now an ocean of green- with waves of foliage and leaves wafting to shore, in place of foaming crests.\n\nWhen I first hiked into the forest, I only went in a quarter of a mile through the brushline before the panic began to set in, and ran the entire way back.\n\nThe second time I went further, to the first real trees- the first real clearings... the third time I had signed my soul away, packed for a month, and wasn't alone. \n\nThere was too much mystery in a world where everything had been discovered, too much begging to be explored- fear couldn't stop me. I wanted to know what was out there. I signed the papers, took the salary commission, locked the door and walked away from everything I knew.\n\nMaine was a heck of a place to live if you loved the outdoors, but I had never tried to take the ocean on, not in the way many of my neighbors did. I needed solid ground under my feet, and the sapping cold of the water was always too much for me- I had never been able to enjoy it. Hiking, mountain climbing, backpacking, camping in the deep of winter, these had been the things that made me feel alive. An expedition into the great unknown- to try and forge ahead and see something no one else had... how could I pass that up? To be completely honest, I couldn't. There wasn't a single way I was going to let it sit there, just a few miles from my home; there was no way I was going to let it taunt me.\n\nWhen I met with the rest of the group, I was shocked to see how few people felt as I did- there really weren't many of us. Only twenty people arrived as planned- out of a network of hundreds. It wasn't as if the pay was going to be poor, these were all professionals, scientists and field researchers. The government had deep pockets for people willing to go out and survey the new terrain, see if we could find water sources beneath the thick canopy. Satellites had become all but useless- there was so much material in their way, they needed boots on the ground.\n\nI suppose I had been so caught up in the beauty, and the mystery of the green depths, that I had ignored the rumors already circling it. A lot of people didn't come back from them.\n\nI guess a paycheck is only worth it, if you can come back and collect it.\n\nAs we started our trek, from the coast near Portland- we had a ten man Navy Seal team as an escort. Tough as nails, made of grit and muscle, the crew walked calmly, checking their navigation and radioing to the escort above the forest as we continued- a large military blimp. A strange but effective means of following by air. More and more of those were being pumped into production- the U.S might as well be on a wartime economy for all the resources they were focusing. The whole world had been flipped on it's side, and they wanted to come out of the mess on top. It made a lot of sense when you considered the implications of this entire thing were endless.\n\nWas there still water somewhere down below that impenetrable canopy of trees? Was global warming and carbon pollution being erased in a single year? Would the great lakes suddenly become the most precious commodity on the planet short of the glaciers at the poles? The sooner we knew, the better. That seemed to be the logic.\n\nStill, I knew there was more to it then that. Unlike the other expeditions that were heading out all over the country- ours seemed to have a specific destination in mind- we didn't stay in the \"shallows\" for very long- we were heading farther. How much farther they didn't say. The Seals were not a talkative group.\n\nThe first week was enough to cover almost a hundred miles- east and south if my compass could still be trusted. \n\nOur progress had been slow at first, as the rough underbrush seemed to hinder our ever step, giving way only to machetes and angry curses. Slowly though, it thinned, as we approached what I could only imagine was the edge of the continental shelf. By a month, we had begun descending into the true nature of the green depths- surrounded by foreign trees which were, at times, dozens of measures thicker than redwoods, and potentially hundreds of times taller. The sheer intimidation of such giants was unbelievable.\n\nSamples were collected en masse for the first hundred, before the shock wore off, and was replaced by a tense intimidating fear.\n\nThe further we traveled, the denser it got, and the stranger things became.\n\nYou don't think about air as heavy- not normally. You don't consider it because generally it isn't a problem- usually the most you'll notice is at higher altitudes, being the lack of it. It was the opposite for us. The farther we went, the thicker the air, the heavier the air. We were miles below what any human besides James Cameron, had ever been- but instead of water there was air.\n\nBeyond the potential health problems I had begun to consider- I was far more concerned with our Seal escorts. Their communication with our over head supply blimp- which had been dropping needed gear, and providing direction... well their communication had stopped... days ago. It had become clear there was a secondary objective to their presence- often I heard low murmuring talk of \"the ship.\"\n\nThey continued to lead us, deeper and deeper, descending to the point where a terrifying eternal twilight, slipped into total darkness, as hundreds upon hundreds of layers intercepted above us- desperately catching every speck of light. The Lamps came out then, and a base camp was set up. It appeared that somewhere in this area was the objective- and it was as good as any place to establish a HQ, to await for the secondary groups and try to reconnect with the supply blimps and report findings.\n\nI had a degree, and had held a job in the field before, but I wasn't a real scientist. I wasn't much like the group that settled in around their laptops, their well-lit tents filled with research samples and reports. I would help collect, and I knew what to look for- but I was here because I wanted to bear witness. Maybe to the supernatural, or some mystery unexplained, impossible- something that proved to me there was more.\n\nWhen the Seal team left on a scouting exploration- wandering through the strange bioluminescent ferns that hung at ankle level between the massive trunks that spread off in every direction, and didn't return... I began to suspect. Perhaps they had found the ship, perhaps they had gotten lost. I found both of these things doubtful.\n\nMaybe something else had found them.\n\nI had noticed the occasional movement in the darkness- running from our lights, a strange clatter among the endless, silent trees... a rustle near the tents.\n\nWait.\n\nA rustle near the tents.\n\nThe scent of blood and... earth... seemed to permeate the air from my post at the edge of the floodlight perimeter. I suddenly found myself remembering a passage I had read once, years ago; that on the deep sea floor, creatures that were normally minute and minuscule in stature, could grow massive. That creatures from millions of years ago, when the oxygen content was higher, could grow to disturbing size.\n\nGiant black eyes reflecting the glow of flood lights in the distance, staring back into my own from the shadows. Red mandibles barely catching the faintest reflections on their ghostly translucent shells.", "I was on the bridge of the tanker when it happened. It was like a dream. One minute, we were plowing through the pitch black sea, the next, a never ending swath of green had replaced it. If I hadn't been watching it, I wouldn't have believed it. \n\nOur ship, a grain tanker making its way toward North America from Brazil, was suddenly aground. \"What's going on?\" The disheveled captain crossed the bulkhead. \"We're aground... I think.\" Captain wasted no time, \"What do you mean, 'you think'? Are we aground or aren't we?\" \"Well the engines are overheating, and we're not moving. I already throttled them back. We also have no rudder, not even the bow thrusters are working.\" The captain thought momentarily, then turned to me and gesticulated, \"Alright, Collins, get in the water and let me know what we're dealing with, I'll call it in to the Coast Guard.\" \"I'm on it.\" I bounded down the hard metal staircase, conscious of my heart pounding in my ears as I tried to think about what I had just seen. The ocean... was green? Maybe an algae bloom covering a sandbar? I would know soon, but it didn't stop me from wondering.\n\nAfter getting all my gear set, I made for the stern of the ship. Below the railing, the ocean roiled a dark green. My fellow divers scoffed when I requested that I dive tethered, that is, with a line between myself and the ship, but I was still in shock after seeing the ocean turn green, and wanted every convenience I could. I clambered down a ladder into the water, gingerly lowering myself until I was submersed. I felt another swathe of uneasiness hit me like a shot to the gut. \n\nVisibility in the water was good. I could see down the curve of the hulls almost to the bow, and about 20 feet down. At that depth, the ocean floor shimmered like a mirror. The ship was embedded almost 20 feet deep, covering the props. This was bad. I had seen pictures of ships stuck this bad that still hadn't been properly removed years later. From the surface, I couldn't make out the ocean floor very well, and swam closer. As I drew closer to the floor, I noticed it moved as I disturbed it, looking strangely familiar. I let the air out of my BCE and dropped toward the floor feet first, meaning to land. \n\nWhat happened next I will try my best to explain in as clear words as I can manage.\n\nMy feet pushed through the ground into thin air, and the rest of me soon followed. I was falling. On instinct, I fumbled the tether cable for some slack, pulling as much as I could through my hands in an effort to... You know I'm not sure what I thought it would do. Maybe if I had climbed fast enough I could have gotten out of there before anything happened and saved everyone. But It didn't help. \n\nThe tether on the ship ran out of line to feed, and the cable slapped through my grasping hands as I struggled in vain to hold on to the burning lead. It reached the end of its length, and went taught quickly, but I did not die. In fact, I was not harmed at all. As I hung on the end of the line, I looked around, my dive mask fogged and crooked on my sweating face. I tore it off and caught my breath, spitting out the regulator. I coughed as gas filled my lungs, but it tasted acrid and painful. I took a few quick breaths as I scrambled for my regulator and put it back in my mouth. I hung there momentarily, breathing deeply as my heartbeat finally began to slow. I looked around, now aware that my eyes were burning in this air as well. With a sigh, I realized that I had dropped my goggles while grabbing my regulator. Soldier on, I guess, I thought to myself.\n\nI looked around the dimly lit grouping of trees I hung between. They were unlike any trees I had seen. Monstrously tall trees, divided into green sections of bulged, smooth material that dimly reflected the light from above. Their tops were pointed like barbs. I swallowed heavily and realized how lucky I was to not have fallen on one of these spiked trees. The darkness was compounded by them, which let only the slightest shafts of murky white light. of light on the ground below, which I could see was white and speckled with black dots. \n\nIt was only at this moment that I noticed that I was slowly descending. I grew concerned, looking up the tether to the ship above, stranded as if stuck in a sheet of ice. I grabbed the tether tentatively, but couldn't lift myself with my hands so torn from the fall. I fell back, defeated and exhausted. Beneath me was an offshoot of one of the massive trees, and I alighted upon it as I came to it. As the line kept spilling down into the dim space below. I removed the tether, but kept the end of the lead in my hand and near my harness, just in case. In the silence of this place, I started to hear sounds. Metal creaking under pressure, and something beneath me as well. I could hear from the ship the hum of the diesel engine, its usual din more raucous as the water intake drew labored breaths from the lower atmosphere. \nThe whole thing happened so quietly it was hard to believe. The ship began to fall. I can't when for sure, but I noticed the tether began to whip past violently, getting faster every second. I had to get away. I was in flight mode again, making my way down the branch toward the trunk of the strange tree I stood on. I jumped a short distance to an adjacent branch, noticing that they were very tightly knit. I walked quickly across several trees before looking back at the ship, its stern noticeably lower than before. As I watched, it started falling more quickly, the gravity of this strange place pulling it ever deeper into the forest of spikes. In no time, it was in free fall. For a horrifying second, it fell through open air before impaling heavily on the spikes below. They burst through the metal like the ship were softened butter, the rear of the ship collapsing on itself under the force of the fall. \n\nJaw agape I stared at the remains of the ship. Could they have survived? Could anything have survived a fall like that? I started back toward it, briskly stepping between the branches of the trees. As I got to the ships remains, my heart sank. There was nothing left of the rear decks. The impact had torn down much of the superstructure of the rear. I called out to my crewmates, but to no avail. There was no response, and I had no chance looking through the tons of heavy metal while also trying to negotiate the branches of the trees. Making my way along the edge of where the ship had fallen, I saw the spool of the tether where I had dived from less than half an hour ago among the remains. The line had unraveled to the ground below, and I knew it was my only way out of these trees quickly, as walking in the branches was exhausting, and there was no way up to the sliver of ocean suspended far above my head. I slowly clambered down the rope, tenderly gripping with my wounded hands as I slowly reached the ground. \n\nDismounting the rope, I gripped my hands tightly. This was the first time I noticed how deeply sliced they had been from my fall. I looked around. It was strange here, a sandy floor densely populated with these thick spike trees going on for as far as I could see in any direction. I shifted the regulator in my mouth, licking my lips uncomfortably as I breathed the dry air from my tank- My tank. I had forgotten that my life was ticking away. Maybe it gave me a few more minutes because I wasn't frantically breathing what little air I had left. The atmosphere here was toxic, that much was sure. Looking at my dive computer, I had almost an hour of air left by my calculations. I had to get moving, but to where? \nI didn't know the ocean floor here well, or if this... place... even remotely resembled the ocean floor. What happened? Why now? \n\nThese thoughts quickly left my head as I felt the ground shift beneath my feet. Animalistic instinct took over as I ran quickly away from the spot, which almost immediately was overtaken by a humongous worm-like creature with multifaceted red eyes. As it burst through, it paused momentarily, seeming to observe me momentarily before retreating underground. No sooner did it start moving again that took off, trying to move in a zigzag pattern as quickly as I could plodding through the thick sand. The beast was always at my heels. I could feel it tunneling behind me, never more than a foot or so from my heels. It was toying with me. Tiring me out. A trait not seen in any earthly creature, other than mankind itself. \n\nI quickly became extremely lightheaded from breathing the canned oxygen. After a few wobbly strides, I collapsed in the sand. The tremor disappeared. I turned onto my back, looking up at the water-sky. Exhaustion pinned me to the spot, my head rushing with oxygen rich air as my chest rose and fell.\n\nI took a deep breath in, then winced as something pinched on my back, then quickly pressed through my chest before my eyes. A long, thick needle protruded from a newly sucking chestwound . It retracted quickly, and I felt my chest go numb. I then pulled out my phone and wrote this document on my Baconreader reddit app, and posted this in the first random posting I found. If anyone can hear me, I will not survive. But know my account of this event, for it may shape our understanding of what happened to our planet in the furure. As for me, I have only one request. Upvotes, tons and tons of upvotes. As many as you can spare. If I will die alone, I don't want to die unpopular. \n", "May 4th, 2098 7:04 A.M.\n\nIt's been 3 days now since the oceans have disappeared, and the government still has no idea what caused it. The agents and scientists have their ideas, but everyone knows whatever it is... it is irreversible. \n\nThe crew and I intercepted some radio broadcasts that tell of an English submarine lying at the bottom of the Atlantic. It's believed that the imploded hunk of metal has valuable information and it could even shed some light on what caused this whole thing. There are many rumors swirling around the station at the moment.\n\nMike and a few other new guys believe this is extra terrestrial. Maybe an attempt to cause a war between the continents so they can come in and clean up after. Michael thinks that aliens want to take over the planet once the United States has been weakened by war. To be fair, it wasn't but 7 years ago we had our first contact with the Kaisedorians; it's understandable that they might want to colonize the planet after the Royal Air force shot down their welcome ship.\n\nThe rest of us at the mobile station think it's a ruse by the United Kingdom to cripple America. Everyone is aware of the lack of timber and the ever growing demand for it. It makes perfect sense for England to sink a few billion pounds into a ploy that will indefinitely send America into the U.K.'s debts for the remainder of our time here on Earth. No matter what the case there is very little known about the newly formed Atlantian Forest. \n\nExploration teams appeared almost as quickly as the oceans disappeared. There is no limit to what people will do when the reward is government issued gold. Government run units of tanks and bi-rotor helicopters race into the dark, sunless forest day and night in search of discovery. Civilian run unites, such as ours, also enter in search of new life. The forest that grew overnight yields an uncanny resemblance to the California Gold Rush of 1848. Some teams are comprised of husband and wife on an ATV while other more experience outdoors men have surveillance equipment, rifles, and an RV. Any units that have documented or physical evidence that can be retrieved from the New World and brought back to D.C. have a government bond waiting for them. \n\nEverything started out smoothly, Mike was leading the caravan of RVs through the sky scraping trees like he was born to. However, it wasn't the first time he's been in a leadership position. Back in 2087 he was a Captain in the United States Army. It was in the 3rd World War when Michael Houle was honorably discharged from the armed services. While leading his men through the sky scraping buildings of Moscow a building collapsed due to artillery fire. Inevitably he was pinned under some rebar and suffered some nasty breaks, hence his discharge. But 11 years later here we are, and he is leading our rag tag team of RVs through what seems to be No Man's Land.\n\nOur RV was composed of Mike, the driver, Rick, Mike's army buddy, some community members who wanted a share of the reward money, and my wife Linda. Linda was a nurse in the ER of the local hospital, so it was apparent that we bring her along too. \n\nDay one was uneventful; we drove for what felt like hours without stopping. The first hundred miles of forest were considerably more dense than the inner forest. It was like someone designed the layout, almost like a map. The trees, my God the trees... They were unlike anything I've ever seen. Each individual trunk was at least 20 feet thick, but the trees were all connected at the top. You could saw through the base of one of those monsters, but it wouldn't fall. They had a network of limbs and leaves that connected the tremendous beings into one great organism. The scientists were surprised at the abundance of plant life, and the complete absence of mammal life or any animal life for that matter. There was nothing. Vines were everywhere, new species of orchids were collected, even ferns that toppled over the antennae of our convoy were seen, but no animals...\n\nThe second day was even slower than the first. We passed abandoned team vehicles every hour. One of the desolated transports was an RV just like ours. Unlike ours, their RV was tipped on its right side sealing the door with the Earth below it. The windows were shattered and tires flat. The canopy of foliage above made it near dark at the floor level. It was almost at the stage of twilight even though it was noon; it was no wonder they crashed. The oddest part of their ruins is that despite being only a few hours old, vines have already taken residence across the entire bus. The dark green fingers of the plants made their way from the windshield to the passenger windows in just the time it took us to start our engine back up. There is something about this new world that isn't Earthly.\n\nOne by one the transports behind us either crashed, malfunctioned or chose to turn back. By the end of the second day we were the last member of the caravan abandoned in total darkness. We had no choice but to wait another 10 hours for the light conditions to better. Mike and I chose to spend this time catching up on some much needed sleep. On the other hand, I'm confident the scientists haven't slept since we started the expedition. They're in a world of ecstasy down here. There is so much raw discovery for them; this is what they live for.\n\nMike and I awoke the next morning to find the scientists and Linda sleeping for the first time in 50 hours. We were finally ready to move on and find that submarine we heard about on the radio. The problem was the bus... This time our bus was covered in dark green tendrils that spawned from the Earth. The vines got into everything mechanical: the wheels, the exhaust system, the brake lines... Everything...\n\nCpt. Houle made the executive decision that he and I leave the RV in search of the wreck. Linda and the lab rats will stay back and continue research while we're gone for the day. If Michael and I fail this we'll have nothing to show for our trip. We have to collect the data from the wreck, it may lead to the World's prosperity.\n\nMay 6th, 2098 11:56 A.M.\n\nRecovery Unit 12-A of Virginia: Door to the vehicle was found open. No life or corpses found aboard the snared RV. If I didn't know any better I'd say this thing has been abandoned for months. No data recordings or video evidence found either just this journal of what seems like the leader of the crew. This will be taken back to headquarters for further examination. \n\n\nThanks for reading I wrote this really early in the morning so forgive any errors. Criticism is welcomed :)", "We had departed into the Wood ten days ago. Or at least what I think is ten days. Accurately keeping track of the days would require something of a miracle. The foliage above can become so opaque at times that we'd think the sun has already set. Hmm, on second thought maybe that's a poor choice of words. The dark patches are on a whole different level than ordinary night. At least at night there are stars, or the moon. Something to help you orient yourself. We don't have that in the Wood. It's just pure darkness, like we're temporarily blind-struck with no choice but to wander aimlessly until we find our sight again. We have flashlights, of course. But those don't last forever, and this is a two-way trip. And it's better to save them for when we really need them, in case we ever run into trouble.\n\nThere have been stories of \"creatures,\" for lack of a better word, living in the Wood. Our squad leader told us to ignore them, that they're just myths, but I can tell that even he's uneasy out here. I mean, why would they send a fully armed Coast Guard squad just to investigate a distress beacon if there wasn't some level of danger? I have to stop thinking like that though. Focus on the objective. We can just see the ship from where we are now. I'll be out of here soon enough.\n\nThe canopy is practically impenetrable, like nothing our planet has ever seen before. That was the reason we had to set out on foot in the first place. The brush is too thick for any aerial deployment, let alone extraction. It was even interfering the distress beacon somewhat. Nonetheless, we made it. The ship is only about a hundred yards away.\n\nWe begin our final approach. With each step the ship becomes more visible. It was in a relatively sparse area. Not too many trees around. That means less foliage above. Thin strands of light shine down on the ship from above like glistening silk. I can just make out the details of the hull. It was a dull gray with a thick red stripe closer to the top. Within the red was a write word written in some sort of fancy font, \"Expedition.\" The top's overgrown, but by the looks of it it's probably a commercial fishing boat.\n\nThe squad leader signals to me, and then a hole torn in the side of the hull with two fingers on a raised hand. His arm's shaking, a bead of sweat running down the side of his forehead. He's nervous. And with good reason. It had taken me until now to realize the change in the atmosphere as we approached the ship, I was focusing too much on the boat. It's more quiet than before. No, it's not just quiet. It's dead silent. I can feel my mind going numb, my heart beating in my own chest. I'm surrounded by a faint sense of danger slowly closing in, slowly growing. Like something can hear my pulse. Like something was just waiting for me to walk straight into it's trap, out in the open so it can kill me. So it can kill everyone. \n\nI raise my rifle to a more guarded position and look at the rest of my squad. Everybody's clearly in a panicked state. I'm not the only one. We have to get out of the open. The ship. We have to get to the ship. I finally register the squad leader's order and make my way towards the breach.\n\nI take one step in and give the all-clear to the rest of the squad. It didn't take them long to get through the breach. There was a feeling of relief emanating throughout the ship. Now, back to the objective: search the ship for any survivors, and get the hell out.\n\nWe turn on our flashlights and advance to a room at the end of the long corridor. The discomfort is starting to come back. The floor. There's something wrong with the floor. I don't know what it is but it sure as hell isn't metal. My feet don't \"squish\" on metal. What am I saying? It's just water. We passed plenty of marshes on our way here. That's it. Probably residual from when the Wood first appeared. Stop being so paranoid.\n\nI step into the room with the rest of my squad following suit. It's big. My flashlight doesn't even reach the walls. We're going to have to split up if we want to find a way out of here so we can keep searching.\n\nSo we do. We fan out in four different directions. After a few feet I can no longer make out the \"squishing\" of my squad's footsteps. I stop. The silence is coming back. This isn't safe. I'm all alone. We need to regroup. I start running back in the direction I came, calling my squad. No answer. And it didn't take long to find out why.\n\nWhen I get back to the door to the corridor, I see it. Three white spikes protruding out of the ground. And my squad mates, all impaled through their chests, blood gushing from their mouths. They're dead. They're fucking dead.\n\nWhat do I do? I don't know what to do. FUCK I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE. I HAVE TO GET THE THE BREACH.\n\nI sprint as fast as can down the corridor. I'm at the end. Where is it? Where's the fucking hole? SHIT, WHERE IS IT? \n\nI shine my flashlight at where the breach is supposed to be. What the fuck is this? I reach my hand out to touch the fleshy red material that's in the place of the hole, and shine my flashlight down at the ground to see the same disgusting red mush. It wasn't water. I'm not fucking getting out of here.", "*The Atlantic Journal of Adam Carter, Volume #1\n\nThursday, December 5th\n\nBy the time the sun had set below the horizon our group had set up camp at the lip of an enormous valley. I was searching my provisions for a tin of soup when I overheard two soldiers arguing over our current position. One seemed convinced that we were nearing South America, which would put our day's work and trajectory at fault, whereas the other argued that his logic was faulty, and that we were actually closer to the eastern shore of Africa. As the conversation threatened to turn physical our navigator, Henry Willis Silver, rose from the fire and - with an air of exasperation - explained that we were looking down at what used to be the Romanche Trench, which would put our current position at the seem between both continental plates. 'In other words, you're both right, so keep your thoughts to yourselves!'\n\nThe two soldiers lingered for a moment, then returned to their duties. I found this amusing, and at some point on the voyage I had intended to ask Silver about his connections to the crew of the Anna Maria, the boat that now so completely occupied our time. But his curtness with the men was a signifier of his exasperation, so I decided that it wasn't the right time. Besides, I had agreed to have a meal in Captain Roberts' tent, a privileged that greatly annoyed my research assistant, Holloway Pierce. Even though we are still sharing a tent together he has scarcely talked to me since the rather unpleasant incident with the shark. It matters not, though, for his reputation as an academic at Cambridge is almost as second rate as his style of prose.\n\nWhen I arrived in the captain's tent I could smell fried fish and oil. Most of the carcasses littering the forest's floor had decayed by now, but early on in the voyage Roberts had ordered the smaller fish to be stored in bags of ice to preserve their freshness, and when the ice melted I advised him to smoke half of our supplies and salt the others. The smoked ones went bad after two days, but the salted ones stayed fresh, which had earned me this much-envied visit to his quarters.\n\nWhen he saw me he grinned enthusiastically. 'Adam my boy! Did you bring the soup?'\n\nI told him I had, and placed it besides the bottle of whiskey sitting on the table.\n\n'Splendid! Take a seat, I'll be with you in a moment.'\n\nI sat on the wooden stool and admired the furnishings of his tent. A henry rifle was propped in the corner next to his bedroll, and the military jacket lying sprawled on the floor positively glinted in the glow of the fire, but most impressive was the row of animal teeth lined up along the surface of his footlocker. From left to right they got progressively larger, and as he brought over two plates of fried fish I asked him where he had acquired the long, phallic tusk sitting at the end of the row. He told me a long and well-rehearsed tale of his days hunting elephants along the Gold coast, and that the tusk came from 'A particularly rambunctious young pachyderm that nearly flattened me and my crew with a surprisingly quick charging manoeuvre! Fortunately I bested the beast with that very rifle you see at my bedside, and its tusk I keep with me to remind me of exciting times. Flesh & blood, 'tis what motivates me to find this b----y ship in the lands that God has blighted us with for our sins. Give me Africa anyday!'\n\nYet it was not long after we finished our meal that we heard the sudden clamour of panicked cries, followed by a most almighty crash. Roberts and I both rose from our positions and ran outside to the camp, which was now unrecognisable. The carcass of a whale had fallen from the ridge above us, and had crushed at least five of our tents, presumably with their occupants still inside. Scattered amongst the survivors were large, flabby segments of whale - the body seemed to have practically exploded upon impact. The smell made me feel nauseous. In addition to this, the air was marked by the screams of Henry Willis Silver, who had been pulled out from underneath the body and was claiming that his legs had been crushed and that he could no longer feel them. A number of the soldiers stared at the whale in disbelief, whereas others were picking parts of flesh from their skin and hair. One grief-stricken fellow was looking up at the ridge from where it had fallen and repeating jabbing his finger at something. I followed his gaze and was met with the unmistakable sight of eyes looking down at us. A series of dark figures sat still on the horizon, too dim to make out clearly in the dying light but too distinctive to brush off as a hallucination. Had that whale been pushed? Before I could find an answer to my question the eyes began to disappear, two by two, until the ridge was as dark and lifeless as it was before. When I returned to my tent I saw Captain Roberts run over to the mouth of the creature and yell at someone to fetch his knife, he wanted to see how big this thing's teeth were.\n\nAs I sit writing this, half our crew are dead, the Anna Maria* remains undiscovered, and I must now live in fear of an unidentified hostile presence. I am beginning to consider the fact that I may have made a huge mistake in undertaking this dangerous mission. I shall reassess my position in the morning.", "No one was sure what caused the global bloom, but the world changed overnight. \n\n“Marine scientists have been reporting increased algae activity for months, but something within the last week has caused rapid expansion of these oceanic forests.” The reporter stood near the beach, a vast jungle extending behind him. “Preliminary reports are showing that the forest is made up of at least ten different species within the Laminariales order, a type of sea kelp. Looking over the Atlantic is a sight to behold. The forest has grown at least 50 feet above the surface, and a bed of 20 feet of undergrowth has made the ocean surface impenetrable. As a result of impeded global trade, stock markets around the world have hit an all-time low…” \n\nCharles stared at his computer screen, watching television recordings of today’s events. “Of course this happened.” He had been part of a research team for the last two months, studying the growth of these plants. It started with just a few local areas, but the growth was faster than anybody on the research team had expected. They had tried warning the government, but they weren't taken seriously. Now the majority of his team was trapped somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic. \n\n“Charles, you need to pay attention to the parachuting procedure.”\n\nCharles looked up from his computer. David, one of his research colleagues, motioned towards the soldier at the front of the plane.\n\n“This is going to be a difficult recon mission. As you’re aware, we've received signals from the Augustine. But, we can’t tell exactly where the ship is located under this green mess. You’ll have to cut yourself down from the tops of these plants after you've made a safe landing. We’ll be approaching the drop zone in five minutes.”\n\nDavid looked at Charles, “what do you think we’re gonna find down there?”\n\n“Probably just a slimy mess of seaweed.”\n\n“Yeah, but why would they bring us along on a recon mission? These guys are military. They only need us because they have no idea of what to expect down there. They think we actually know something about this stuff.”\n\n“It’s kelp, David. A bunch of fucking slimy kelp.”\n\nThe descent was fast, and the team landed in a mess of overgrowth. With a few cuts, they were able to separate the tops of the plants enough to peer below to the surface. The kelp stalks were unlike anything ever seen before. As thick as tree trunks, they packed the forest with wet, green vegetation. David took a knife to one of the kelp trunks. It made a squirting noise as the blade penetrated the outer layer. \n\n“These things are full of water,” David exclaimed. “The global sea levels have probably dropped tremendously as a result of this growth.”\n\nThe bed of the forest was a tightly knit undergrowth of green and red seaweed strands. The moisture seeped into everyone’s boots. It was extremely hot down there. A sweltering sauna of salty, dank ocean musk filled the air. Little crabs scurried into the darkness, away from the forest intruders.\n\nOne of the soldiers pulled out a GPS device. “The ship should be this way only a few hundred feet.”\n\nCharles whispered, “David, this isn't what I was expecting at all. Listen to the forest. It’s alive. And the smell… it smells rotten. There must be hundreds of creatures already living here.”\n\n“That has to be impossible. It’s barely been a week since this all grew. All of this is impossible. How could it all grow this tall? To this extent?” \n\nUp ahead, the team could see the hull of a ship peeking through the forest floor. The entire ship was covered in growth. It took the team 3 hours to cut an entrance to the ship’s main hatch. Charles peered inside. Nobody was there. \n\nOne of the officers yelled, “Hello?! This is the U.S. military. Is anybody there?!” The ship was silent. The recon team searched the entire vessel. \n\n“I don’t get it,” David said, “They had to be trapped in here. Where did they go?”\n \nFrom below, one of the soldiers yelled out. “You guys need to get down here. The scientists!” Charles and David hurried to the lower level. The soldier was bent over a gaping hole in the bottom of the ship. Charles looked over the edge. \n\n“Holy shit.”\n\nIt was gone. The ocean was gone. The roots of the forest extended to the ocean floor, sucking up every last drop of water and killing the majority of sea creatures. A faint light flickered in the distance. \n\nThe soldier exclaimed, “The other scientists! That must be them.”\n\nCharles hurried down the system of roots towards the depths of the ocean floor. The light was only 300 feet away. It was blinding. “What could they be doing down here? And what in the hell do they need that bright light for?” Charles hurried towards the light, calling the names of his colleagues.\n \n“What in the hell?” The light stood still. It was bright orb, seamlessly floating. No, not standing still anymore... Bobbing now. Slowly, the light began rising upwards over Charles’ head, illuminating his surroundings. A shiny, bone-white cage revealed itself. A sickly sweet stench filled the air. \n\n“Teeth…? It’s a fucking mouth.” \n", "“Shit, Carol, watch your step”, I mumbled, pulling my feet from under her heavy boot.\n\n“Go fuck yourself, Greg.”\n\nWe had been walking for half an hour in silence now, the last words spoken to each other being respectively “DID YOU SEE THAT THING? and \"JUST SHUT UP AND RUN, MORON\".\n\nThat thing I asked my ex-wife if she had seen being, of course, a twenty feet tall evil gum bubble.\n\nI don’t know how else to describe it.\n\nIt sprouted out of the ground, no warning, and went “EEEEEEEEEEEEEERCH”, then started running \ntowards us, spitting weird, little smokey blorbs of whatever in our direction.\n\nI didn't know what that crap was, but it would probably hurt our skin if it touched us. Also, neither myself nor Carol knew how to kill a giant gum bubble. So he ran.\n\nWho knew I’d spend the first year of my divorce traveling through the New Forest, running alongside my ex from a giant \nclitoris-looking monster?\n\nNot me.\n\n“I think we are supposed to turn this way”, Carol said, checking her map.\n\n“Whatever you say”, I replied, just to piss her off.\n\nWe did that a lot. Stuff just to piss each other off.\n\nThat’s because no recently divorced couple are meant to spend time together. Ever. It's against the laws of nature, of something.\n\nUnfortunately for us, she’s the best biologist in the country. And me? Well, I’m in the marine corps, so whatever the fuck \nthey tell me to do, I have to do.\n\nAnd they decided that we were best suited for the mission.\n\n“Not only are you both extremely qualified, you’re also familiar with each other, which is essential for the success of \na rescue mission like this.”\n\n“What about the fact that I hate her like poison?” I asked, and Carol, by my side, nodded feverishly in agreement. This was back at the general secret headquarters of God knows were in Washington DC.\n\nImportant stuff. Military, secret stuff. Our little mission.\n\n“Well, you’ll just have to deal with it\", the General said.\n\nAnd so there we were, at the forest. Running from monsters and snapping one liners at each other while we looked for a sunken ship. \n\nDealing with it.\n\n“There”, Carol said, pointing ahead.\n\nI looked through the thick layer of dark green giant leafs – big like part of a Cretaceous period documentary scenery – \ninto what my ex wife was pointing at.\n\nThe ship. We weren’t close enough to see the name, but I knew what it was. \n\nI knew written on the side of that giant piece of metal was “SS Arabia”. The one we were looking for.\n\n“Come on.”\n\nThere were few things I wanted less in the world at that moment then going towards that ship, but I followed Carol anyway.\n\nThe SS Arabia was an actual cruise ship. The kind that used to roam the seas, back when there were seas. \n\nIt was a fairly normal and standard cruise liner, like hundreds of others lost in the mazey jungle of dangerous animals and exotic plants that was the New Forest, except for one detail:\n\nA few days ago, it had sent a distress call.\n\nYou know, like the kind that is send when people are actually alive and in distress inside the ship.\n\nWhich made no sense whatsoever, because, far as everyone knew until recently, no one that was a board anything had \nsurvived, when the oceans decided to disappear.\n\nStill, the distress call came, along with a radio signal. Some noises, indistinct human voices.\n\nWeird shit.\n\n“Give me a hand here, Greg”, I heard, and realized I had been standing in front of the Arabia, gazing at it from top to \nbottom, all its magnitude and the rusted beauty of what it once was, all while Carol was trying to push a heavy metal \ndoor open in front of me.\n\nThe ship was sunk into the ground almost a meter, rising out of the jungle and pointing its beak up into the sky like it was \nwaking up to a lazy Sunday morning. I could tell it had been a beautiful ship, someday, but that day was long gone. Today it just looked like a big piece \nof metal with ghosts inside. I feared we might be adding to the count, if we were not careful.\n\nPulling from opposite sides, on three, we managed to creak the door open enough to squeeze ourselves through.\n\nA cold, stale breath of air squeezed out the dark insides of what appeared to be the ship’s machine room, hitting us in the face like an abusive husband.\n\nAlso, was that a faint scream? Or am I hearing things?\n\n“Are you scared, too?” I asked, my hand hovering over the G25 Glock tucked in my waistband.\n\n“Go fuck yourself, Greg”, Carol said, crouch and stepping inside the Arabia. \n\nI sighed. This was worst than being married to her.\n\n“Fuck me…” I whispered, following my wife’s ass inside the ghost ship.\n\n", "Three months ago the world’s oceans disappeared. Forests covered the entire expanse. The trees defied everything known about plant life. Trees thousands of feet tall and many hundreds of feet in diameter sprung up over night. The initial explorers into these forests described them as being in giant kelp forests out of the water.\n\nThe sea animals all disappeared replaced by creatures never before seen. Not one fish, whale, walrus or any other sea animal’s carcass was ever found. It was as if someone had scooped them all out.\n\n We had been hired to find a ship, The Smokehouse, which had gone down in the Atlantic. It had carried a full hold of rare earth minerals worth millions of dollars at the time. At the time the ship had gone down it had been prohibitively expensive to salvage it.\n\nThe cargo plane circled over our drop area. “You’ve got to jump now,” radioed the pilot. “If we don’t head back soon we’re going to run out of fuel before making it back to the airfield.”\n\nOur supplies had already been jettisoned out the back of the plane. “Roger,” I responded. I gave my team thumbs up. They returned it. “Jumping now,” I said, and I was out. \n\nThe jump was uneventful for me. I had been worried about unknown weather patterns now that the oceans were gone. However, the weather was calmer than I had ever seen it over the middle of the Atlantic. It didn’t make sense.\n\nI unstrapped my parachutes at the floor of the forest. My team turned on their beacons, and we all met in short order. Only Jones hadn’t made it down. We found him off course up in the tree branches. It looked like the branches had wrapped themselves around his body and squeezed much like a boa constrictor until he died. \n\n“What the hell?” said Ram.\n\nI spit on the ground. Something in the air tasted foul and left a bitter taste in my mouth. “We don’t know what the hell these things are. Maybe it’s some kind of defense mechanism.” I looked around. “We need to be careful around the plants.”\n\nAbbott smacked the side of her tablet. “I’m getting a shitty signal, but I think I’ve located our supplies.” She looked up. “GPS is spotty. Might be more difficult to find The Smokehouse than we expected.”\n\nI shrugged. “More time to gather samples.”\n\nThe first supply box had been torn open. MREs, first aid kits and sampling kits lay strewn around the forest floor. Our biologist Carson kneeled down and ran her fingers over the marks. “This crate was torn open by something big and strong. I don’t know of anything short of a polar bear that would have the strength to do this. Even then it would take a polar bear a while to break into it.” She looked back at me. “This looks like one, maybe two swipes.”\n\nI grit my teeth and loosened my sidearm in its holster. “We need to find the weapons crate next. Where is it, Abbott?” I said.\n\nShe smacked her tablet, turned to face multiple directions before stopping and pointing. “North-east from here. About three miles.”\n\n“Fuck. We travel fast and light. We need those weapons,” I said. I spit on the ground again. “Take only the bare minimum. We’ve got to get there before sundown. Expect to stay the night and make camp with defensive measures at the weapons crate.” \n\nI looked around the forest. We were in over our head. I hoped that Jones would be the only one lost on this expedition. \n", "We were constantly getting new reports from the mainland, if it should still be called that. More Expeditions having lost contact. More financial catastrophies being caused by the impossibility of naval travel. More famous people being declared missing or dead, on ships lost the day the oceans changed. And more theories about what the hell had happened, why, why in the world it did, and how it would affect the climate and so on and so on. Sciency stuff, politics, the media went crazy.\n\nNot that we weren't. The world was in chaos, and here we were, working for some billionaire, searching for his family. Only underneath our airship there was no water. Just trees. But they were strange trees indeed. Stretching from one horizon to the other, there was dark treetops, ground nowhere to be seen. If you went down there, you wouldn't see a thing without a flashlight.\n\"Mirkwood\" Benjamin called it.\n\nIt had been five days since it happened. First day, I thought it was all just a hoax, some kind of joke. Second day, i realised the s*t was real. Third day, Alexander called, he had a job, billionaire was sending a long-range zeppelin to look for his family, he was searching for mercenaries. By then, people knew the wood was dangerous. Obviously people had gone in at the coasts. Most quickly began to feel uncomfortable, some frightened, and turned back, not wanting to go in again. Those that went in deeper didn't return.\n\nThere was some hope that on a big ship, whatever lurked in the forest was far enough away from the passengers. You would suppose we could know that for sure, there should be folks on those boats speaking everything they see in their phones, but telecommunications took a big hit. All bottom-of-the-ocean cables had been damaged, and the sattelites couldn't possibly keep up with all that. So we were looking for some big yacht stranded in the wood, supposedly a shining white star in all the dark leaves. Sounds easy.\n\nOnly it wasn't. Two days in we were at about the last known location, with no boat to be seen. For the whole day, we flew wider and wider circles around it, scanning the horizon.\n\nIn the evening, we saw something in the distance. It was a stone. A goddamn, blank, black stone. And yet it was something beautiful. A jagged cliff peaking out above the monotonous, all-covering forest. For lack of other landmarks, we decided to go nearer and take a closer look. Who knows, maybe there would be survivors having found shelter there. And indeed, as we approached , we saw a figure standing up. He stood still, upright, on the very tip of the cliff, as we rushed in at max velocity and the engines roared to make us come to a stop twenty metres above his head. Me and Ben were chosen to be lowered down and get him up. I was excited. It wasn't the billionaires family, but it was something. Even better, it was a person, and a living one. And on top of that, i finally had something to do*.\n\nWhen we touched down, the man looked at us weirdly, tilting his head a tiny bit to one side. He looked eerie. His hair was all thick black wisps and his clothes a plain, dark green, cut in the most simplistic way.\n\nWe approached him and I said \"Hello.\" No reaction. \"Hey, we're going to get you out of here.\" The guy gave me a weid feeling. I suddenly was acutely aware of how close the creepy forest was. The cliff had somehow seemed higher up from above. \n\n\"Lets just grab him and go.\" Ben commented, obviously uncomfotable as well. He started moving towards him.\n\nThe man suddenly smiled. His eyes flashed brightly.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\nHe had sharp, pointed teeth.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n&nbsp;\n\nComment : First time trying to write not-so-eloquently, mimicking the character's speech. Is it allright ? Did i overdo it ? (not a native speaker either, so that makes it harder to evaluate)" ]	10
	[WP] Give your main character a secret that she wants to desperately keep away from the world. She slowly begins to realize that other people are well aware of her secret.	[ "Another clue. How could they know? They can't know - I'm being paranoid. I mean there is nothing wrong with it and it's a harmless bit of fun. God! - it would be so embarrassing if someone found out! Why? Why does every single one of my interactions seem to be allude to the entire world's knowledge of my wickedness. Have they been watching me? Spying on me? Are there cameras in my room? Am I a prop for the world like Jim Carrey in the movie? Do the spectators find me wicked? Do they tsk in disapproval when they watch me during my intimate and private moments? How do others behave when they're alone? Doesn't everyone have secrets? - or, am I the only wicked one in the world? Why am I like this? I didn't choose to be, and I try my best to control, then why does it always bring me back here? Why does my obsession charge me days of guilt for mere moments of pleasure? You know what, may be they don't know. May be, it's just a great big coincidence. May be, I'm just reading into it. Fuck them, if they know. It's their fault for making me feel this way. I haven't done anything wrong. I haven't harmed anyone - I haven't killed anyone. I just like doing it.\n", "Hilda Marigold's bare feet gripped the edge of the cliff. Her eyes were erratic as she watched the ravaging waves crash against the sharp rocks many hundreds of meters below. She rolled her eyes shut, held out an open foot, and paused as she fought the growing breeze.\n\nIf this was true, if what The Old Ones said was true, then she'd be fine. She'd nothing to worry about and nothing to fear. But if they were wrong, if her union with them was all an elaborate ruse concocted by her young, imaginative mind, then this would be the end. Her life, her aspirations, her relationships with friends and family alike; all of it would vanish just as her lifeless body would vanish in the hungry mouth of the ocean.\n\nNo longer able to fight the breeze, she brought her foot back to the soil of the cliff and opened her eyes again. Her heart throbbed into her head--the steady bu-bump bu-bump bu-bump rivaling the continuous low hiss of the waves below. I hope I'm not going insane, she thought. I hope I'm not crazy. I hope I'm not crazy.\n\nShe mumbled the words over and over again until she stepped out and let herself plunge. And as the wind rushed beyond her ears, she opened her eyes just before hitting sharp rocks below.\n\nStop\n\nImmediately, her descent halted. She hovered above a cluster of rocks with wide eyes as if resting on an invisible platform. And as the mist of the ocean sprinkled her flushed face, she began to laugh a hearty laugh that caused her chest to hurt after a short while.\n\n\"They were right!\" she shouted.\n\n----\n\n\"Where the hell have you been these last few days Hil?\" Jacob tried his best to match Hilda's speed as he navigated around other students in the hallway. \"You forget about the assignments that're due in two days or something?\"\n\nHilda wasn't completely attentive to what Jacob said. She was fixated on a new challenge that wasn't readily solvable with her abilities; the manipulation of matter. The Old Ones told her, if memory served correctly, that she could manipulate the world with naught but her imagination (there was the command that she ought to guide mankind into an era of prosperity, but that could wait). If this was true--and she had little reason to believe that it wasn't--she could, in theory, manipulate objects around her; change them in ways unique to her desires. But this absolutely could not be known by the world. She'd have to be surreptitious in all she did with her power from henceforth. \n\n\"Hello?\" asked Jacob as he tapped her on the shoulder.\n\nHilda turned and smiled before apologizing. \"I've just been dealing with a lot lately but I haven't forgotten about the assignments.\"\n\n\"Good! Because I sure as hell can't do all of this by myself! We gotta work together on this.\"\n\nHilda nodded politely, giving multiple \"uh huh\"s to keep Jacob under the impression that she was listening at all. \n\nThey each went into class and Hilda was still lost in her thoughts as she sat down in the midst of the room, so lost that she didn't notice the handful of prolonged, cautious glares that came from fellow classmates. She retrieved a notebook from her backpack and drew a diagram for the notes that she would have no intent of taking.\n\nThe chatter of the class died down almost immediately as the professor stood from his desk and remotely caused the projection screen to descend slowly in the front of the class. \n\n\"We've got a lot to cover today,\" he said as the screen finished crawling down. \"Let's get started.\"\n\nHilda hadn't paid attention to anything said by the professor since she sat down. She stared at her blue mechanical pencil and thought to change its color to something more favorable. Pink, perhaps. Or maybe green.\n\nShe imagined what it would look like, and as the image appeared into her mind, she thought to transfer it to the pencil itself. After bringing the pencil close to her so that no one would see the transition, it turned pure white for a brief moment, then a vibrant color of pink slowly crept downward just as she saw it do so in her mind. She was so satisfied with the color--studying it closely and twirling the pencil around in her fingers--that she was oblivious to the classmates to her left and right that glanced over with unmistakable terror in their eyes.\n\nThe professor paused his lecture mid-sentence and looked over to Hilda, mumbled, and resumed his lesson.\n\nThe chatter behind Hilda from various classmates was quite hushed initially, but it grew over time just enough for Hilda's ear to twitch at a particular comment.\n\n\"It's not as cool as the cliff trick though.\"\n\nHilda looked up with wide eyes and held her breath. How could they know that? No one was around her when that happened; she made sure of it. Her heart began to throb and she began to feel exposed in the midst of the class. She dropped the pencil, stared forward, and attempted to seem as inconspicuous as possible.\n\nJust imagining things. Just imagining things. They can't know that. They don't know. There's no way.\n\n\"What? What'd you say Hilda?\" said a student directly behind her.\n\nHilda stood abruptly and left the classroom before the professor could speak to her. Many more eyes followed her on her way out, followed with unmistakable keenness and caution. Whispers began to erupt after she left.\n\nHer cover was blown. \n\nShe ran to a wooded area of her campus and watched clouds of her chilled breath drift away. They could hear and see her thoughts, it was obvious, but how? \n\nHilda sealed her eyes and tried to imagine being among The Old Ones, but they never appeared like they did in times prior. Was she alone? Did they abandon her?\n\nShe stared out at the snow-covered ground and stretched out a hand, and with a thought came a breath of life into the area. The snow melted, the plants grew instantly, and there was such a comforting warmth to the air around her that she never wanted to leave. There was no stress here, no concept of guiding the billions of men women and children in whichever way she saw fit. Only peace. \n\nPerhaps she wouldn't leave.\n\n \n\n", "They couldn't know, no one could. She wasn't even convinced that she knew it herself, not entirely. It couldn't be truth. It was a half remembered dream, that happened on some rock in the middle of the ocean. Some rock that man had somehow overlooked, left untouched in all it's travels. \n\nIt was a miracle they found her there at all, hidden in the jungle that swallowed more than half the island. They spotted the wreckage a mile away, at least part of it, this led a nasty trail to the island that was her personal hell for 2 years. Of course she wasn't alone, there were two others, but they were never found. Not a single trace on the whole island, except for a wristwatch and a single strand of hair. \n\nWasn't much for food on the island, and there wasn't much for food on the ship that rescued her. The crew looked as if they hadn't seen food for days, and it wasn't far from the truth, in fact the truth was much harsher. The crew hadn't seen real food for months, and Karen wondered why the crew was so small for such a big ship. Though the crew wasn't very curious about what happened to the people who had been on the island with Karen. It doesn't take long for a Cannibal to recognize another. ", "Maggie closed her eyes and was panting as she stared at herself in the mirror. She appeared to be in a woman's bathroom that was filled with both men and women all talking at once.\n\n\" Got a light?\" A greaser straight out out of the 80s asked as he tugged on the hem of her jacket.\n\n\" Come on! I said I'd be good if you got me candy! Where is my candy!\" A seven year old bawled at her other side. \" I'm going to tell if you don't give me candy!\"\n\nMaggie Carson looked like she hadn't slept in days with bags under her eyes and pale as death. She hadn't slept for a week, because she was constantly followed and harassed by people other's couldn't see. She prayed and prayed for God to help her but so far the only response she'd gotten was silence. She'd taken off from work until today but she couldn't put it off anymore without risking her job.\n\nThe girl started to cry, \" Please. I promise. I promise. Just get me some candy.\" \n\n\" Maggie?\" Called out a young woman's voice from the background.\n\nA haggard looking man in ripped in torn clothes stood over her back, breathing down her neck. \" Give me what I want or I'll do it.\" He suddenly had a knife at her neck.\n\nMaggie rocked back into the man's embrace, whimpering softly as she wondered what she did to deserve this.\n\n\" MAGGIE! Are you okay?\" Suddenly the bathroom was empty besides Maggie and a woman in early twenties. She was wearing business attire and it took Maggie a few seconds to recognize her as the new intern that was hired in her office a few months ago.\n\n\" O-oh. Sarah. I'm s-sorry. Haven't been feeling well.\" She tried to give a reassuring smile but wasn't sure how well she pulled it off considering she'd started to dry sweat and was still breathing heavily.\n\nSarah looked at her concerned, \" Are you okay? We know you didn't want to come back yet... Do you need anything?\"\n\nMaggie shook her head quickly and pulled herself together, \" No. No I'm fine. Feeling better already.\" She said firmly, and took several deep breathes to calm herself. \" Sorry do you need to go?\" She made to move around the girl before she was blocked.\n\n\" Actually I was looking for you, Mr. Peters needs to see you.\" The woman said with an air of concern, as seeing the big boss normally wasn't good news. \" I'm supposed to take you...\" She finished awkwardly and shrugged.\n\nMaggie had a momentary flash of panic that people knew before she dismissed it. She'd only had one episode so far and that'd happened within the last minute. She pushed past the girl a little roughly and made her way out of the bathroom and strode confidently into the rows of cubicles that led towards Mr. Peter's office. She still didn't look her best, but with some renewed confidence she'd gained some color back into her face.\n\n\" I'm sorry about this you know.\" Sarah began, \" I'm just the messenger... Anyways I'm sure it will be fine.\" Maggie nodded absently as Sarah continued to talk on, looking around as they made their way across the office. When she was noticed her coworkers stopped what they were doing and looked at her a little funnily but she just blew them off.\n\nSarah stopped a few feet short of Mr. Peter's office and whispered, \" Good luck!\" And with that she was through the door and closed it quickly behind her and Mr. Peter's looked up confused.\n\nMr. Peter's had started this company almost thirty years ago and he'd been expanding it ever since. He was a good boss, but very strict and he expected a lot.\n\n\" I heard you wanted me to see me sir?\" She moved to sit in the chair in front of his desk.\n\nHe still peered at her a little confusedly, \" You sure got here quick. I only sent the email a few minutes ago.\" He shuffled his papers uncomfortably. \" So Ms. Carson... I'm here to talk to you about some unsettling matters.\" He stood up, buttoning the buttons on his jacket as he started to pace around the room.\n\n\" Unsettling matters sir?\" She gulped as her palms started to clam up, \" What kind of matters? Is it because I used all my sick and personal days at once? If so I sincerely apologize and won't let it happen again.\"\n\n\" It's kind of about that. .\" He looked nervous as he settled back in his seat, \" Well it's just we've been worried about your health for awhile. Your work has always been exemplary and I'd hope to move you up. But I've gotten many reports of muttering randomly in meetings, unfocused, and appearing distracted constantly. Is everything okay?\" \n\nShe tried to speak once but she had to swallow twice before anything would come out, \" What do you mean? Do you have any specific instances? Maybe I can shed some light...\" This couldn't be happening. She was started to feel faint as she could feel her whole world crashing around her.\n\nHe looked at a few papers on his desk before coughing, \" Well two weeks ago, you were supposed to be doing a review for some paperwork I sent you. Instead you were observed talking... well talking to no one in your office and it never got it done. I assume you were using one of those headset phones. You know we don't allow those.\" He spoke to her sternly.\n\nMaggie could barely believe it and burst out, \" That's not true sir! Me and Sarah worked on it for hours! I gave the paperwork to her to give to you. She told me the next day that you loved it. Bring her in and ask her. Her name is Sarah Bell!\" Her head was pounding and she felt like she was going to throw up.\n\nMr. Peter's looked at her severely disconcerted. \" Are you okay Ms. Carson... you look...\" He shook his head and turned to his computer and started typing, \" Sarah Bell? There is no one in the office with that name. Are you sure?\"\n\nAs he looked up from his computer, Maggie Carson passed out and fell to the floor.", "Abagail had always known something was wrong with her, but she only began to understand its nature at the age of ten, during her first successful escape. They had kept her in the hospital for as long as she could remember, but one day they left her in the playroom unattended and she decided the grass outside the window looked too green, the flowers looked too colorful. She had to explore. She had to see what it was like outside the walls. \n\n\nOn that day she went down the stairwell and exited via a side door. The bright blue sky and the grass under her feet were almost too much. It filled her with excitement, bordering on panic. The openness of the world overwhelmed her. She began wandering towards a distant cluster of buildings. Up until that point she believed that she was very sick, although the doctors never said exactly what plagued her, only that she had to stay in the hospital. \n\nShe crept along the ranks of bushes and fences until she heard a sound just outside her field of vision. A sound she recognized from the movies they played for her, from the books that lined her bedside table. The sound of a barking dog. \n\nShe peered through the bushes and saw it, running back and forth, yipping at her from the end of a long leash pegged to the ground. It was so small. A puppy, no more than a few months old. It melted her heart. Of all the things she dreamed for herself, for the day they finally let her out, a dog was always part of the equation. She approached it. The dog’s tongue hung out of its mouth, which meant it was hot, and its tail was wagging, which meant it was happy. She knelt and pet it. \n\nSomething bad happened. The dog made a sound like it was choking. The lights of its eyes went out. It slumped back and toppled over. \n\nAn hour later, when the soldiers and police officers in their hazmat suits arrived, they found her crying and petting the corpse of the puppy. They injected her and carried her unconscious body back to the hospital. The hospital where there she was the only patient. \n\nAfter that she never went anywhere without a nurse following her. A nurse with gloves and a mask over his face. She knew that she killed the dog even though she never meant to. She just wanted to love the dog. She hoped they would never find out that she killed it. They would never let her out if they did. She was sick, and she had made the dog sick. The sickness spread whether she wanted it to or not. \n\nBut Dr. Thomas never seemed to notice. Abagail always told him that she was feeling better, that she could go outside now. He always smiled and said soon. \n\nOne day she overheard Dr. Thomas and the woman who sometimes stopped by.\n\n“Preposterous,” Dr. Thomas had said. “Utterly ludicrous. This is a little girl we’re talking about her. A little girl. How could you even consider it?”\n\n“Little girl? What little girl looks like that? She’s a weapon. What about the incident last summer? All aspects of the project have been wrapped up and shut down besides this. Having something like this around makes us all very nervous. We want to decommission this whole thing and wipe it out. It failed, and there’s no hope for her. It would be a mercy.”\n\nThese things scared Abagail. Their voices grew harsher and more difficult to discern after this, but she felt that she had uncovered a second piece to her own puzzle. They kept her locked up because they thought she was sick. She needed to convince them that she was better. She took the medicine every day and she did whatever Dr. Thomas told her. She begged to go home, wherever that was. \n\nShe learned more about her sickness on the day she touched a nurse. Normally they told her everyone needed gloves and masks around her so that others didn’t get sick. But one day, operating on a moment of pure impulse, she reached up and grabbed a nurse who was changing the sheets in her bed. She grabbed the man’s wrist. Her hand touched a gap in between his glove and his sleeve. The same thing that happened to the dog happened to the nurse. He staggered a few steps and keeled over. \n\nLater, after they carted the body away, Abagail asked what happened to the man. \n\nDr. Thomas smiled weakly. “Will had a heart attack. He was a sick man.”\n\n“Sick like me?” she asked.\n\n“No, not sick like you,” he said. \n\nShe knew he was lying. After that she knew everyone was lying. By the time she was reaching puberty she had tried to escape six more times. She learned that everyone became very afraid of her when she got angry and peeled the gloves off her hands. She liked the feeling it gave her, making others scared. They had been making her scared her whole life. Why couldn’t she be a normal girl? Why couldn’t she have any friends? The nurses who came and read her stories weren’t her friends. Dr. Thomas wasn’t her friend. The lady in the suit who came to argue with Dr. Thomas was certainly not her friend either. \n\nShe over heard them several more times.\n\n“That’s it,” the lady said. “This is the end. We gave you a long time to try to work something out, Doctor, but its over.”\n\nAbagail crouched and put her ear to the door to her room, now locked around the clock. \n\nDr. Thomas sighed. “You’re right. I don’t know what we could do at this point. I admit, I failed.”\n\n“I’m told she’s experiencing anti-social behavior.”\n\n“Do you have any kids?” Dr. Thomas asked.\n\nThe woman half-laughed, half-coughed. “No. The idea never appealed to me much.”\n\n“Well I can assure this is normal behavior for an early adolescent person. She needs to either get out or we need to reform this. She can’t go on like this anymore. Somethings got to give.”\n\n“Well obviously she’s not going anywhere,” the woman said. \n\nAbagail cried that night. She looked at herself in the bathroom. She wondered why she was so ugly, why she was so sick, why she could destroy things so easily. She hated Dr. Thomas. She hated the nurses. She hated the woman. She hated the flowers they brought to her room. She liked touching them and watching them wilt before her eyes. \n\nOne day a new nurse showed up. At the end of the night the nurse put Abagail into bed and went to lock the door. Abagail jumped out of bed, as if to ask a question. The nurse hesitated. Abagail stuttered something about being scared as she walked closer. The nurse knelt down, sympathy in her eyes. Abagail got within arms reach and grabbed her, tearing the mask from her face. The nurse crumbled and died, the door wide open.\n\nAbagail went for a little walk down the hall. She found Dr. Thomas’s office, Thomas himself behind the desk, frowning over some paperwork. She gently nudged the door open. \n\nDr. Thomas looked up. His eyes went wide. \n\n“Abagail, what are you doing? It’s past your bedtime. You need to get your rest.”\n\n“The nurse had a heart attack,” she said. \n\nThe doctor’s eyes went wider still. Abagail moved closer. \n\n“Oh no,” he whispered. \n\nBullshitter, she thought. She had learned that word during her last escape. She heard a policeman say it, and she knew what it meant. She moved closer still. The doctor shot up out of his chair and took a step backwards. \n\n“Uh, Abagail…. Now, you know you’re very sick… I, uh, don’t have my gloves on.” He pushed himself back to the far corner, in between the filing cabinet and window. \n\nShe was only a few feet away now. \n\n“If I touch you,” she said. “Will you have a heart attack?” She just wanted to see him try to respond.\n\n“I, uh…” his voice was barely audible, below even a whisper. “I have a weak heart.”\n\nShe grabbed is hand. She groped his face. The man sunk against the wall. His skin went white before her eyes. After that she poked her head out and checked out hallways. No one was around. No one knew she had escaped. She decided it was time to check herself out. \n\nShe might not have been like other girls. Other girls didn’t have fifty six jagged teeth, or a few half stumps where third and fourth arms had failed to grow. Their organs hadn’t been cooked by radiation, condemning her to death by the age of twenty anyways. They had ears and eyelids. They had families. But it was okay now. No she was going to make all of that right. If she deserved to be sick then so did everyone.\n", "Cindi Hill walked down the street. There was no wind, yet she still walked with her head and eyes down. She looked up with quick glances and picked up her pace.\n\n“Cindi? Cindi, is that you?” called out a man. \n\nWith eyes darting around Cindi found the source of greeting. “Hi, Greg,” she said. “Can’t stop and talk. Gotta go.” She continued her brisk pace.\n\nGreg looked puzzled. “Okay, Cindi. I’ll talk to you later.” A look of disgust crossed his face as Cindi continued walking away.\n\nCindi glanced over her shoulder at Greg. He grimaced and continued on his way. Cindi sighed and stopped at the intersection. She lived just across the street. Almost home.\n\nThe traffic light seemed to take forever to change. Cindi tapped her toes and looked around her surrounding area. A panhandler rattled a cup full of change as he walked up to her.\n\n“Spare some change, miss,” the panhandler asked.\n\nCindi looked at the traffic signal. “No. No. I don’t have any cash on me.”\n\nThe panhandler pushed his cup closer to her. “Anything you’ve got.”\n\nThe traffic light turned red and the signal indicated Cindi could cross. “Sorry. Nothing to give.” She hurried across the street as fast as she could.\n\nThe panhandler scowled. He backed away from where Cindi had stood. He crinkled his nose up and took off.\n\nCindi had trouble getting into her building because she couldn’t find her keys. The doorman let her in, smiled then coughed as Cindi walked by him. She punched the elevator buttons as hard as she could. A hand snaked through the elevator door just before it closed, opening the doors once more and letting on Cindi’s neighbor.\n\n“Hi, Cindi,” the neighbor said. “How are you doing today?”\n\nCindi bounced back and forth on the balls of her feet. She couldn’t take it anymore. “Fine. Fine,” she said. \n\nThe neighbor shook her head at the rudeness. “Great. Good to hear.”\n\nWhen the elevator doors opened Cindi took off. The neighbor gagged and dry wretched as Cindi galloped down the hallway. Close. So close.\n\nCindi tried to find her house key among all the other keys. Cindi powerwalked down the hall. She felt something fall. \n\nOh God. \n\nCindi realized that Greg knew. The panhandler knew. The doorman knew. Her neighbor knew. Farts had been slapping out since she left the restaurant. If Cindi had picked up the smell of putrid takeout bubbling and broiling in her innards then everyone else had and now it had come to a head. \n\nDiarrhea. \n", "As the weeks passed, people around her slowly started treating her differently. They would look away when she caught them looking. They would ask if she was okay. They would tell her jokes to cheer her up. They would compliment her.\n\nNot everyone was like that, of course. Some would sneer at her, and some would whisper as she passed. Some would drop comments just barely loud enough for her to hear.\n\nTeachers would take her aside and ask questions. Her parents had a worried look when they thought she didn't see.\n\nShe realized there were rumors at school, among the students and teachers. She realized her parents knew.\n\nAnd she added yet another cut to the neat row on her arm.", "Three years ago, Dorothy killed her brother. It was an accident of course, but it had happened. She had only received her driver's license recently, and so when she tried to make that sharp turn at the intersection while speeding - well, she hit another car. \n\nAnd not just any car. The small car that her brother was using to come home from college for Christmas. She had sped away, and on that dark rainy night not a single person was able to identify the car that killed her brother. Nobody knew. Nobody in her world, anyway.\n\nAt the time, Dorothy didn't even know she had killed her brother. She only made the connection later when after driving home, the police came to their door. Her parents were sobbing. Dorothy knew that they could never know.\n\nSo she walked with this secret through the remainder of her final two years in high school. She passed classes and just barely made it through life - just barely, because she was comfortable that at least nobody knew. She felt guilty, sure. But not a kind of guilt that would cause her to admit it. \n\nRather, she lived in fear that someone would find out.\n\nAnd now someone has.\n\nDorothy screamed at me as she stood at the bus stop.\n\n\"I hear your voice! Who are you? Who are you telling? Am I crazy?\"\n\nI responded as honestly as I knew how.\n\n\"Well, I'm your narrator. I'm not quite sure how you were able to hear me. My best guess is that you are so traumatized by this secret you hold that you have sort of sixth sense about it being revealed.\"\n\n\"But who are you revealing it to?\"\n\nShe was sobbing. I responded again, quietly.\n\n\"Well, I'm telling your story. People are reading this right now. Some of them are affected by it, some aren't. Some are intrigued and want to know more details, while others are bored with my style of narration already.\"\n\n\"But now they all know what I did!\"\n\n\"Well, yes, I suppose they do. But they will never meet you, and you will never meet them. So why do you care? It's still a secret.\"\n\n\"No, it isn't!\" Two years of guilt and despair were pouring out through Dorothy's eyes. \"I might never meet these people - these readers - but they know what I did. And they will judge me for it. They will judge me for driving away from the accident. They will judge me for never telling anyone. They will judge me for not being so overcome with guilt that I have to tell someone.\"\n\n\"Well, Dorothy, it's within each reader's freedom to...\"\n\n\"Bullshit. They haven't been in this situation. They don't understand what I am going through. But they will judge my story the way they judge anyone.\"\n\n\"I think you're making assumptions about these readers that aren't entirely...\"\n\n\"Are you kidding me? Of course they will. Readers will judge knights in shining armor, wizards in different realities, space pilots in faraway galaxies - all despite never having lived a life that even comes close to those characters. Are you kidding? They will find it easy to judge me, someone living in a world that resembles their own.\"\n\n\"Well why...\"\n\n\"Be quiet. I don't know where you are, or who you are, but you violated me. You took my secret and revealed it to the world. You should be ashamed of yourself even more than these readers.\"\n\nAfter hearing these loud exclamations from Dorothy, I decided to instead shift focus to the implications of\n\n\"No. Stop now. Don't just stop talking to me. Stop narrating. You don't have the privilege of saying another word. That's reserved for me. This is my life. So leave it.\"" ]	8
	[WP] You have been in a deep sleep for thousands of years to finally be awakened by a loud voice. "I rubbed this stupid lamp, where the fuck is my genie."	[ "\"I rubbed this stupid lamp, where the fuck is my genie.\"\n\nNot the nicest of ways to be woken up from a three-thousand year sleep. And why is it that I'm consistently woken up at the very best moment in my dream? I had just been freed from the confines of this prison that is my lamp by a young prince and his beautiful princess and I was ready to explore the world. Instead I've been thrust back into reality by some loud-mouthed, very impatient Italian man. \n\n\"I swear on my mother's cannoli, if this is some kind'a prank I'm gonna take this lamp and bash your knees in until you're prayin' for a genie what can make ya walk again!\"\n\n\"Time to go,\" I thought, \"before he dents up my lamp on that poor souls knee caps\". \n\n\"Greetings!\" I said in my best booming-genie-voice as I popped my lid and burst fourth from my lamp. I found myself in a small smoke filled room full of Italian men with leather jackets and one young middle-eastern looking man all facing the desk of the eldest Italian man who appeared to be in charge. \n\n\"Oh my god!\" one of them shouted as they all pulled the breast of their jackets over their nose and mouth. It's extremely upsetting that this happens every time. Everyone is so surprised by the smell that they can barely appreciate the majesty of what is happening in front of their eyes. I've been in a six square-inch lamp for three-thousand years; no showers, no deodorant, and despite popular belief, genies do pass gas just like regular people. \n\n\"You have awakened the genie and it is my duty to grant you three wishes, what will you have?\"\n\n\"Holy shit,\" said the eldest Italian man, \"that's a real life fuckin' genie\".\n\n\"You gotta be shittin' me\" said another. \n\nThe room erupted with ideas on what the Godfather should wish for; \"have all our cousins come back to life\", \"let the Jets win the Superbowl\", \"make sure that body stays sunk\". Eventually, the Godfather grew angry.\n\n\"QUIET!\" he shouted. \"I'm only gonna need two. Firstly, I want to learn the long lost recipe for my mother's delicious cannoli.\" \n\nI looked into the eyes of the old man, I found his long lost mother in my infinite memory of the world and from her mind I pulled the recipe for the delicious cannoli. \"Granted\", I said and a weathered piece of paper appeared on the Godfathers desk with the long lost recipe. \n\n\"My god, thank you\" he said. \"Second, and lastly, I wish for there to be everlasting peace between us and all other mafia of the world.\"\n\nI looked into his eyes once again and saw the identity of every enemy he had ever encountered, and just as I was about to grant him his wish, a grenade smashed through a small window in the room followed by a wave of slurs and a loud bang. \n\nI then found myself floating above the wreckage, my lamp in pieces, and I found myself free to go discover the world. \n " ]	1
Can be the viewpoint of anyone. First post to WP!	[WP] License plates aren't randomly generated by a computer; they follow a government patented algorithm based on the person (this is confidential). Protagonist figures out what it means and it is horrifying.	[ "Fuck. Where did he come from?\n\nBryan had been through this before. He activated his turn signal and pulled over onto the shoulder of the highway. For a second Bryan had hoped that the red and blue lights of the police car were meant for someone else. But his hopes were dashed as the cop car pulled in behind him.\n\nBryan watched as the trooper exited his vehicle and made the long walk to his driver’s side window. Experience taught him to keep his face impassive and to avoid any sudden movements.\n\nCar in park? Check.\n\nDome light on? Check.\n\nWindow down? Check.\n\nHands visible? Check.\n\nI hope this guy is better than the last one Bryan thought. God that guy was a dick.\n\n“Sir, do you know why I pulled you over this evening?”\n\n“Err, not really officer… Miller.”\n\n“It’s Trooper Miller. And the reason I pulled you over was because you \ncrossed over the white line.”\n\n“I- Really? I’m sorry Troop…”\n\n“Sir, have you been drinking tonight? I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle and perform some tests for me.”\n\nAn hour, several sobriety checks, and a long wait for a canine unit to sniff for drugs later, Bryan was back in his car. Twelve days into the new year and I’ve only now just got a ticket. Not bad. Last year Bryan had started off the year by receiving a citation driving home after a New Year’s Eve party. Fucking stereo too loud my ass…\n\nHe’d always had the worst luck when it came to getting tickets. He’d always been a cautious driver. He was always careful to not speed, signal his turns, and to come to a complete halt at stop signs. Still, it seemed like cops were attracted to him. Sometimes they just gave him a warning. Other times they would pull him over, sit behind him for a few minutes, and then drive off again without saying a word. But more often than not, they wrote him a ticket for some petty bullshit. It gave Bryan an ulcer to think about how this latest ticket was going to affect his insurance rates. He sighed as he pulled into the parking lot of his favorite watering hole. He knew for sure that his friends were going to have a good laugh at his expense.\n\n“Jesus Bryan. Did you get pulled over again?” Dan called out, having been the first to notice his arrival. Steve, John, and Damon turned to greet him as well, broad smirks on their faces. Bryan’s fabulously bad luck with tickets was legendary with his friends\n\n“Yup. You know it” he said, taking his seat next to Damon. Damon was a deputy, and one of the few cops in the city that hadn’t pulled Bryan over. Damon laughed, and Bryan knew what he was going to say next before he even opened his mouth. Let the guessing games begin.\n\n“Was it Garcia? Guys got a hard-on for you, man. Or maybe Roberts?”\n\n“Nope. It was some trooper prick named Miller. I didn’t get more than a couple of words out before he starts asking me to recite the alphabet backwards. Z-Y-X, W-V….” Bryan started to sing-song. He’d memorized it a \nwhile ago.\n\nThe guys all laughed, and Damon groaned.\n\n“Aww man, the Stateys, really? They have no sense of humor. Did you get a ticket?”\n\n“Oh Yeah” Bryan sighed. “But you know what the weird thing was? He was really worked up about my license plate. He repeated it like six times.” He began to imitate the curt trooper talking into his radio. “X-J-1…”\n\nThe guys laughed some more as Damon sputtered on his beer. Bryan thought it might have been his imagination, but as Damon struggled to regain his composure he thought he noticed a strange look go across his face. Odd, thought Bryan.\n\nSeveral hours later Bryan had nearly completed his DD duties. Damon was almost passed out in the passenger seat. Stopping in front of Damon’s apartment, Bryan shook his shoulder to rouse him.\n\n“Arewehere?” Damon said in a drunken slur.\n\n“Yeah.” Bryan paused for a moment. The question had been bugging him all \nnight. “Hey Damon, what’s the deal with my license plate?”\n\nDamon stirred, waking up a bit.\n\n“I can-can’t tell you. Jussht take it from me. Go down to the DMV tomorrow and get new plates. Although it probably…it probably won’t matter…” Damon trailed off.\n\n“Come on Damon. We’re buddies. What’s going on here?”\n\nDamon paused, nodding his head. It took a long moment of deliberation before he spoke again.\n\n“You’ve got a HOS-plate” He said.\n\n“What’s that? Bryan said.\n\n“Harrass. On. Sight.” Said Damon in a drunken staccato. He continued.\n\n“Rules say we pull over any car that starts with XJ1. ‘Make up any excuse’ the rules say. So we do.”\n\nBryan was perplexed, certain that Damon was pulling his leg. Damon pulled himself upright, sobering himself before continuing.\n\n“I don’t know what you did Bryan. But all I know is that someone is out to ruin your life. Someone very-”\n\nDamon pointed upwards\n\n“-high up.” \n", "I was turning onto Oak Street when it hit me. Well, it would be more accurate to say they hit me: my sudden flash of inspiration, as well as that darn runaway semi.\n\nI'd been working on it for months. At first it was just an odd, barely-there pattern, sort of a private joke to help break up the monotony of my day. But eventually I realized that my uncanny skill at guessing the last digit on the license plates of totaled cars coming into the yard was more than just a funny coincidence. Sure, I wasn't always right, but with each time that I was my bemusement slowly gave way to a chilling fear. Fear that there was something behind it.\n\nAnd so I started keeping track. Maybe a smarter man would have sussed out the pattern sooner. Then again, a smarter man would probably never even contemplate such a crazy idea, much less worry about cars in a junkyard. It even took me a week or two before realizing that I should get in touch with other yards around the city; once I did that I knew I was on to something.\n\nBut I didn't have the full picture until seconds too late. Funny that the thing that would make everything click would be my own plate. I suppose I should have been angry or something, but honestly I was too tired to really care. After all, if this was the price of having such a well-organized and peaceful society, wasn't it worth it?\n\n---------\n\nAs he watched the semi barrel through the intersection on his monitor, Steve flipped off the traffic light override, then hit the button to confirm. And that's ten...done for today he thought to himself, as he did every time he filled his quota.\n\nSteve watched the \"Now Serving\" sign advance from \"JUK-505\" to \"ATR-431\". He had always thought the sign a bit callous, but his supervisor had put it up as a joke and seemingly couldn't get enough of it. Steve didn't know who decided what numbers would come up every day, but he knew well that the culling was necessary for society to function. After all, they always pointed this out at the weekly calibration meeting. Of course, anyone who had a problem with that usually didn't make it to calibration anyway.\n\nSwitching off the monitor, Steve strapped on his bicycle helmet and headed for the door. Hope I can get home before the rain.", "\"So, does it show that I hate cats?\" Arghavan asked.\n\n\"No.\" Alex sounded almost angry now. \"It's more complex than that. It takes into account everything; age, health, medical history, religion, education, annual income...\"\n\n\"For what, though? What's the point?\"\n\n\"Control?\"\n\nArghavan laughed. \"That didn't sound very confident, buddy.\"\n\n\n\"It's real,\" Alex insisted. \"This could change everything.\"\n\n\"Why not go public? Tell everyone, instead of just me.\"\n\n\"It could distort the way the world works. Famine, genocide, you name it.\"\n\n\"And the plates know?\"\n\n\n\"The plates tell. The information is coded into them. Like mitocondrical DNA.\"\n\n\"Wow. That's... That's a lot to take in.\"\n\n\nAlex pats her arm. \"Give it time.\"\n\nThey watch as Ben enters the room, passes out the little cups full of pills.\n\n\n\"And they think we're crazy.\"\n\n\nArghavan laughs. " ]	3
	[WP] Tired of being seen as children's fantasies, Fairies announce themselves to the world, and declare war on humanity.	[ "\"Lord Lilian, You don't understand that we are on the losing side in the war right now!\", bawled General Larry,\"The fairies have not lost even one battle since the Battle of Thames.\" General Lee claimed,\"I was the one who pulled the strings in the Battle of Thames. The fairies are superstitious creatures. They are afraid to fight in the dark and they have no military tactics at all, just mere incantations. Bullets won't hit them but the noise of the bullets would enfeeble them until they black out.\" Lilian, disappointed and still considering the losses at Northampton and Birmingham repugnant, said,\"The day that we humans will have to give up to mere witches and bitches is not today. Grab all our best men, we have to stop the enemy's forces at Oxford. Declare a state of emergency and gather any able-bodied men who are willing to bleed for Britain! Dispatch couriers to seek aid against the fairies from the French, Scottish and other European nations.\" \n\nThe fairies had become tired of being seen as children's fantasies and began what they called,\"The Fairy Revolt.\" The fairies had declared war at humanity and had established an impregnable stronghold at Leeds. Since fairies were known to be legendary creatures, an unexpected war began. In all the wars that had taken place, Half the British army was poly morphed into an army of critter, sheep and cows. Britain had become the country with the highest sheep population within a few weeks. Some of the other half had joined forces with the fairies and the fairies used their petty magics to convert these forces into ferocious giants, which the humans called 'feral behemoths'. With every war that the fairies won, their ranks bolstered, more people betrayed Mother Britain only to join the fairies. The fairies were also known to take control of the bodies of their victims. No one ever knew that the fairies also knew how to use sinister magics. \n\nThe lethargic remains of the once-fearsome British army relentlessly marched into the Battle of Oxford. The British were clearly outnumbered but they fought with never-ending zeal and ardor. The raucous sounds of British cannons and guns had begun to sap the fairies' energies and the British were soon having an upper hand in the battle. Gigantic Behemoths, which were possessed by the fairies were killed using vigorous bombs which were manufactured specifically for them. The fairies were provoked to use what they had been hiding all along. The fairies gathered, formed an orb which they gradually swelled using their magical powers and formed what they called,\"Hitler's Conjuration of Celestial Inferno.\" Soon, a colossal and unstoppable meteor fell onto the British forces, which were wiped down in a single wave. \n\nThe British Empire collapsed within days, the army was defeated and the scattered remains had chosen to remain secluded or to surrender to the peerless fairies. Lilian and the generals were hanged and a dark chapter in the history of Britain unraveled as the 'Supreme Fairy Dominion' established control over Britain and prepared for the Invasion of Ireland.", "FIRE! Came the order and fire they did.\n\nFairies are real and apparently easily offended.\n\nThey started in France, burning down villages and waving their little swords in the air.\n\nThey apparently hadn't kept up with the times. At the battle of Amiens the French mobilized 400 men. Firing all night they destroyed the fairy army and claimed victory.\n\nThinking this would redeem their reputation, they were wrong. As all the other countries laughed.\n\nThe French army defeated a childrens story." ]	2
I'm hoping to see some interesting responses for this! This prompt was inspired by this image - http://i.imgur.com/FIedxCp.jpg	[WP] Soldiers that are mortally wounded during battle must fight The Grim Reaper to decide their fate.	[ "I even added a voice to the grim reaper, thresh from league of legends has really cool quotes/voice so I used that for the sake of some extra ambiance, you can even listen to [This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LQHRajcOjCM) song for added effect.\n\nIt isn't until the booming drums of war start to fade, does the real battle start\n\nThose were the words they told us, the soldiers who had died and had become reincarnated as the heroes of wars. The other men had thought it absurd, disbelieving of the real truth that simmered beneath the surface. The grim fate that faced those passing on was often that, Grim. The guardian of the underworld, the kids tales told of a skeleton clad in black robes, wielding a fierce-some scythe as it collected the souls of those who had fallen.\n\nIt truly wasn't until you had died, that you believed in such tales, for when the sounds of war did fade, and the blotting sun turned from bright to black. Did the one reaper come to collect your soul...\n\nIt's dark visage surrounded you, tempting you in with a lulling sense of security. A flash of metal cut through the darkness from the side, I myself had only narrowly avoided it as I fell back onto the cold floor. Endless eyes stared down at me, judging my every move before it leapt back into action. The scythe scrapped against the floor, sparks illuminating the area for a short second, enough to see the monstrosity attacking me.\n\n[\"Going somewhere?\"](http://images.wikia.com/leagueoflegends/images/d/d4/Thresh.interaction1.ogg)\n\nA chilling wind flew through my spin as the scythe spun into action again, cutting a few hairs off the top of my head. I managed to roll to the side, avoiding the blade as it sunk into the floor.\n\nIt spoke again, the voice amplified tenfold in the confined space [\"Nobody escapes...](http://images.wikia.com/leagueoflegends/images/6/63/Thresh.attack2.ogg)\n\nI didn't even see it move again, unearthly speeds unleashed the scythe tore through the flesh in my shoulder, blood splattering onto the floor and dissipating into a crimson mist.\n\n\"Why are you doing this!\" I screamed at the creature as I clutched my arm desperately.\n\nIt did not stop it's pursuit, closing the distance slowly, swinging the bloodied scythe around to face me.\n\n\"Why can't you just let me die?\" I tried again.\n\nThe reaper stopped, tilting his head to the side as if pondering the question.\n\nThe answer came mockingly, bouncing off the walls.\n\n[\"There is life, there is death. And then there is me.\"](http://images.wikia.com/leagueoflegends/images/8/81/Thresh.joke2.ogg)\n\nThe reaper spun the scythe a second time, lodging itself into the center of my chest. Oddly enough, the blood that should have poured out of the wound was not red, but black. The sinister substance covered the scythe, flowing up the blade and down the handle. collecting in a small puddle at the feet of the reaper.\n\n[\"Any last words?\"](http://images.wikia.com/leagueoflegends/images/8/8d/Thresh.attack8.ogg) it asked, pulling the scythe from its place as I fell to the floor, my vision blotting.\n\nI opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. The dark room begun to spin as I could feel a ripping sensation at the base of my spine.\n\n\"What are you doing!\" I managed to spit out as it gripped the nape of my neck roughly. The ripping sensation increased, tearing at the skin and bones\n\n--------------------------------\n\nChanging perspectives here\n\n--------------------------------\n\nThe room was filled with a blood curdling scream as the reaper ripped the soul from its vessel, loosely tossing the ragged body aside. It gazed at the light blue soul as it flickered in his palm, admiring it's beauty.\n\n[\"Oh, the eternity we shall spend together.\"](http://images.wikia.com/leagueoflegends/images/e/e2/Thresh.move6.ogg)\n\n\n\n\n\n", "Shrapnel was raining down with the delicate tinkle of a wind-chime, like the one he put over Julias' crib. The screams of his company reminded him of his daughters birth strangely enough, and the realization that one day some leave the world the way they are born: bloody and screaming. Nothing prepares you for the delirium that stains a dying mans words and twists his vision when he can sense his end is near.\n\n\"You are frail and soon to decay. But I cannot commit you to this until you prove that it is what you want. If it is, then you will not suffer, but for those of yours who would not willingly see you dead, their suffering will be twofold. If this is not the end you seek, then you must live. Through pain and blood and loss, you must choose to live. You may resist either choice but in limbo you will remain until one is made.\"\n\n\"Why? I've fought enough and bled enough now to have earned my passing. Leave me be. Whatever time is left, let me spend alone with pride in my heart and love to warm me from the cold to come.\n\n\"I will not leave you be. You are mortal and weak but you were born to live and fight and survive. Will you not do that now, for what is yours and those whom you love? If you loved, then you would never want to die. But if you want to die, then i ask, have you ever loved?. \n\n\"They are lost to me, and i to them without limbs. I am lost. I would burden them and their pity would drown me..... But i do love them, i always did, as fervently as flowers love spring and it is out of love that i choose this as my right. To die by my own choice. Should that displease you, then ..\"\n\n\"Then you would have your loved ones suffer your pain because you could not. There is no pride to be found in cowardice. If it is your wish, then you shall die.\"\n\n\"..... It is\"\n\n\"You disappoint me then, mortal. You do not deserve to live or to fight. But you do, now, deserve to die." ]	2
	[WP] A religious extremist dies and ends up in Judgement. His chosen deity is the judge; however, the jury and lawyers are all deities from other religions.	[ "Dr. Joseph R. Freeman earned his PH.D. in Applied Physics from Yale in 1973. \n\nIrony struck Dr. Freeman at 63.925 miles per hour. The vehicle exiting the highway did not slow for ducks, crows, squirrels or pedestrians. A chunk of Dr. Freeman’s flesh was now stuck to the “Science Bitches!” bumper sticker. \n\nDr. Freeman’s chosen deity – no one – could be found. The courtroom assembled – full of all the major deities. Dr. Freeman’s assigned lawyer, the flying spaghetti monster, was present and dripping meatball marinara over the floor of the courtroom. \n\nAcross the aisle sat Satan, who was dressed resplendently in a ruby red robe, a red snake over a field of fire decorated the back. \n\nOther deities formed the jury. Buddha, Shiva, Neptune, and more filled the jury box. \n\n“All rise for his high, honorable nothing.” Read the bailiff – which appeared to be Athena. Everyone, excluding Dr. Freeman stood synchronously. Dr. Freeman stood up. \n\nEveryone in the courtroom, except for Dr. Freeman sat at the same time. Dr. Freeman followed suit. \n\nSatan stood and cleared his throat. \n\n“Your honor – Dr. Freeman is guilty of living.”\n\nThe courtroom was silent and unreacting. Dr. Freeman got the sense this sort of trial happens often. \n\n“The defendant chose you to worship, but clearly does not fully grasp your concept. He cannot tell when you are here, and he cannot tell when you are not,” Continued Satan, “Therefore, I ask that the court remands the witness until he can recognize nothing.” \n\nLaughing, Satan sat down. \n\nDr. Freeman saw his prosecutor was not going to be merciful today.\n\nThe flying spaghetti monster stood, and asked his charge a question, “Dr. Freeman, do you have any defense for Satan’s accusations?”\n\nDr. Freeman pondered his answer. Forty five minute or 10000 years past. \n\nFinally Dr. Freeman stood, and straightening his tie. He hummed the notes before saying the words, as if trying to summon a song he heard a lifetime ago. \n\n\"Fools,\" said I, \"you do not know \nSilence like a cancer grows \nHear my words that I might teach you \nTake my arms that I might reach you\" \nBut my words like silent raindrops fell \nAnd echoed in the wells of silence”\n\nAnd Dr. Freeman returned to the well like a silent raindrop.\n", "\"Please rise for the honorable judge Jesus Christ.\" \n\n\"Please be seated.\" says Jesus.\n\nVishnu, Zoroaster, Jupiter, the Judaic God, and Xenu all sat patiently in the jury as Jesus began to read over paperwork concerning the man to be judged that day. \n\n\"Uh, let's see here...'Robert Olson. Male. Died at the age of 76. American.\" read Jesus in a half-mumble. He paused to flip the page over.\n\n\"'Baptist Christian.'\" he continued with a subtle eye-roll and glance at his father sitting in the jury, who also rolled his eyes. \n\n\"'Has committed no serious sins or broken any commandments.' Seems pretty straightforward.\" Jesus turned the page again. \n\n\"Oh. 'Disowned his son for being homosexual. Verbally abused homosexuals, minorities, women, and people of other faiths on multiple occasions.'\" \n\nThe jury let out a soft groan. \"Another one of these guys.\" they all thought. \n\n\"Okay, so how do you plead?\" asked Jesus. \n\n\"Not guilty.\" said Robert with a smug look on his face; clearly oblivious to the ridicule silent circling him. \n\n\"Okay, you got any evidence to provide?\" \n\n\"Yes. A verse from the Bible in fact.\" \n\n\"Go ahead.\" said Jesus, restraining himself from a sarcastic comment.\n\n\"'You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination.' from Leviticus 18:22.\" \n\n\"Any more verses?\" Jesus sighs. \n\n\"'If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination.' from Leviticus 20:13.\"\n\n\"Dad, do remember Levites?\" says Jesus as he shifts in his seat to face the jury. \n\n\"Uh, yeah. They were a pretty uptight bunch of people. It was like they wanted to run everything. And I tried telling them, 'Guys, I got it under control up here,' but they never really listened.\" God said. \n\nJesus nodded as he turned back to Robert. \n\n\"Well, I couldn't help but notice that you left out the final part of that last Leviticus quote: 'they' homesexuals 'shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them.' Do you mean to suggest that you would have killed homosexuals because the Bible said so?\"\n\n\"If it truly does then maybe.\" said Robert with rising uneasiness. \n\n\"That's pretty much why I sent Jesus down to Earth, you know.\" exclaimed God. \"People were going crazy with making random shit up and saying that I told them to write it in the Bible. I needed to get someone to actually represent me down there.\" \n\nThe man was shocked by God's use of expletives. \n\n\"So you could say that the Old Testament could be totally disregarded, right Dad?\" asked Jesus.\n\n\"Oh yeah, definitely. Except the Ten Commandments. Those are okay.\"\n\nThe man went pale. He had read his Bible over fives times in his life and he knew very well that the only defense for his harsh treatment of people in his life was in the Old Testament. \n\n\"What does the rest of our jury think on the issue?\" Jesus inquired. \"Jupiter?\"\n\n\"In Ancient Rome and Greece, where they called me Zeus, homosexuality was a common thing, ya know? I didn't really ever see a problem in it. Plus, I pretty much stuck my dick in everything back then so I can't really judge what other people do with their romantic or sex lives.\" said Jupiter with a chuckle that made him sound like a giddy teenage boy.\n\n\"Zoroaster?\"\n\n\"Yeah, gays seem fine with me.\" Zoroaster said with a slight disenchantment; probably because of his perpetual jealousy of Jesus. \n\n\"Vishnu?\"\n\n\"Same here.\" said Vishnu.\n\n\"Xenu?\"\n\nXenu spoke in his usual unintelligible babble but nodded his head to indicate 'yes'.\n\n\"Okay, looks like we're all done here.\" said Jesus, thankful that this case blew over pretty quickly, as Hades and Lucifer both entered through the double doors of the heavenly courtroom and took the man by his arms. \n\nEdit: I apologize ahead of time for any religious inaccuracies, or inconsistencies with how an actual jury trial works. Sorry.\n\nEdit 2: I read this over again, and oh god the narrative feels so thin and lifeless. I really should have put a little more detailed(and accurate) exposition into each deity equally." ]	2
God and Lucifer give up on their eon long grind, and decide to take a break. However, they cannot just abandon their jobs completely, so they need to find suitable replacements from members of the human race. This is their story.	[WP] God and Satan decide that they are just tired of it all, and need to find suitable replacements.	[ "\"So tired. So extraordinarily tired. I am so tired.\" The thought repeated over and over again. Millennia of intricate rules, delicate balances, imperceptible nudges here and there, the joy when everything went to plan, the even greater joy when serendipity created greater things that were never even part of the original plan, the sorrow when things went wrong even though all the rules were followed. Thy will be done.\n\nAnother old soul approached. They were attuned, the two of them. Chaos and order. Good and evil. Darkness and the light. Their names abound, yet neither really knew what to call each other. After all, it was never necessary. Words were never needed between the two. They just knew. They both knew that they were tired. They both knew that it was time to take a break from their tedious battle. They both knew that the other could not be trusted.\n\n\"Hail,\" spoke one.\n\n\"Greetings,\" replied the other. Words were not needed, but words were spoken, as if to symbolize the temporary nature of their agreement. \"I have brought my representative.\"\n\n\"As have I,\" came the response. There was a pregnant pause. Both knew why the other had come. Both knew what the other had brought as representative. But now that words had been spoken, an invisible force demanded that more words be uttered. \"What have you brought?\"\n\n\"What have you brought?\"\n\n\"I have brought slug.\"\n\n\"I have brought cat.\"\n\n\"Thy will be done,\" they both spoke in unison. And disappeared.\n\nThe cat ate the slug.\n\n\"Meow\"", "“BOOM. You ready?” Satan kicks the door open, and throws a beer at God.\n\nGod sits hunched over his desk, with pages and pages of handwritten notes in front of him. The beer can sails through space and winds up in orbit around a black hole for a moment before being sucked in.\n\n“Dude, weak.” Satan runs up and looks over God’s shoulder. “Are you still working on that replacement thing?”\n\n“Yeah, it’s really hard.”\n\n“You’re omniscient.” Satan flops down in God’s beanbag chair and his tail rips it open. He opens two more beers with his horns and gets disappointed when God doesn’t see. \n\n“I just don’t want to pick wrong. All the humans on earth have such promise to be a kind, loving and forgiving God. I just want to make sure that they are the most kind, loving and forgiving God. What about you? Did you find a replacement?”\n\n“Uhh…” Satan points at the earth with one of his beer bottles. “That guy.”\n\n“That’s the ocean.”\n\n“Look who’s back to knowing everything. Fine then, whoever is closest.”\n\n“There’s a woman out sunning herself on a boat about 175 miles away. She is the closest.”\n\n“Yeah, her.”\n\n“What’s her name?”\n\n“God, it doesn’t matter. It is so easy to be Satan. Literally anyone would do it.”\n\n“No, people are good. They will be kind to each other.”\n\n“No, absolute power corrupts absolutely. It’s awesome. Any one of these people will corrupt and be the devil in like, 5 seconds. You watch. Except don’t, because we got places to be.” He motions out the door to his custom Hyundai convertible with the surfboards sticking out of the back. \n\nGod looks up from his paperwork. “Hey, can I pick Jesus?”\n\n“As long as you mean some Mexican guy. Otherwise that’s you.” Satan takes a swig of beer. “You’re Jesus, Jesus is you. Also, you’re both this bird that’s the holy ghost. Didn’t you pay attention in Sunday school?”\n\n“Nah, I rest on Sunday.”\n\n“For the love of you, PICK.”\n\n“Fine.”\n\nSatan moves and looks at his pick. It’s the same girl suntanning herself on a boat.\n\n“Looks good to me. Let’s boogie.”\n\n“Right on, Satan, right on.”\n", "God and Satan sat side by side on a park bench in a small city. They watched people pass by on the streets, some with a hurried pace, and other simply loafing casually. \n\n\"So can we get this over with already?\" Satan asked sarcastically. \"Beelzebub and I have this kickass party set up near Alpha Centauri and I've still got to pick up booze before I get there.\" \n\nGod sighed heavily, the weight of his decision clearly bearing down on his furrowed brow. \"How the hell did you pick one so fast? I can barely find any I like, let alone any I would trust with my power.\" \n\n\"Nah, you are just overthinking it,\" Satan responded with a grin. \"Shit, I could have picked like a thousand for you that would be perfect, probably do your job even better.\" \n\n\"Yeah well why don't you give me some pointers then, huh?\" God said flustered. The irritation was evident in his voice, but we was beginning to worry he might not be able to take his vacation. \n\n\"Okay, okay,\" Lucifer said with a laugh. \"So lets just run down your characteristics. You don't like women, you are kinda racist, you're prone to overreacting, you have a violent side...\"\n\n\"I will smite your ass if you keep this up Lu,\" God interrupted. \n\n\"Now now,\" Lucifer said with mock sympathy. \"Just let me keep going and you let me know when you see the big picture.\" Lucifer raised his hands and counted off each remark with a finger. \"Major jealous streak, old as hell...well actually older than hell. You are a huge hypocrite, contradict yourself all the fuckin' time, and you are absolutely convinced you are right about everything. Did I leave anything out?\" \n\n\"My God...\" God responded. His look of shock changed to one of irritation once he realized the circular nature of his remark. \"I'm a Republican!\" \n\nLucifer simply closed his eyes and grinned while nodding his head. \"Yeah dude, Republicans totally are your chosen people these days.\" \n\n\"But the Jews are my chosen people...\" God said quietly. \n\n\"O yeah, you have totally been awesome to the Jews here the last few centuries right?\" Satan responded with a bored tone. \n\n\"Good point.\"\n\n\"So just pick a damn Republican. Literally any one of them will do,\" Lucifer said. \n\n\"Clint Eastwood!\" God exclaimed. \n\n\"Nah dude, guy is Hollywood, totally one of mine,\" Lucifer replied. \n\n\"Ugh. Well...\" God hesitated. His eyes widened with realization. \"O come on, Lu. You don't really think it should be her do you?\" \n\n\"The Alaskan retard? O yeah dude, I just can't believe it took you that long to figure out,\" Lucifer responded with a satisfied smirk. \"Now go tell Mrs. Palin about her big promotion.\" \n\nGod stood up to leave, his head hung in shame. He really needed to rethink things if this was his perfect match. \"So who did you end up picking?\" God asked Lucifer as they prepared to part ways.\n\n\"Me? I haven't picked one yet,\" \n\nGod's eyes widened in anger. \"Me-Dammit, Lu. I can't leave before you do. Who are you going to pick?\" \n\nLucifer's smirk deepened as he began walking backwards. \"I'm manipulative, hedonistic, a liar, and disrespectful, and I'm heading to get booze. Who do you think I'm gonna pick, dude?\" \n\nGod thought for a moment before it hit him like a ton of bricks. His eyes lowering into an irritated glare. \n\n\"A sorority girl,\" they both said in unison. \n\n\"Enjoy your break, big guy,\" Lucifer said as he turned around and made his way to the liquor store. \n\n\"Fuck you, Lu,\" God replied before ascending to the sky and heading towards fucking Alaska.\n\n" ]	3
	[WP] Christopher Columbus went mad on the voyage that discovered the "New World". When he arrives, he never sends word back to Spain of his discoveries and decides to become God-King of the "New World".	[ "The ship had been overtaken in the bay. The men, in their eagerness to kiss dry land, had flooded ashore with their delight on their sleeves.\n\nThey feasted on coconuts and seagulls that first night. The remaining ale drowned the sailors in their victory: they were the first circumnavigating Europeans to reach India.\n\nWhen the captain first awoke to flint knives at his throat, he scoffed at the prank. He was dragged from his quarters on the Sao Gabriel to the deck, where his predicament dawned on him and his incredulity led way to cursing. These were not his men. His captors' body paint and crudely carved jewelry were foreign to him. Their tongue was harsh and unintelligible. His men laid on the deck with their throats cut.\n\nThe captain was tossed into the hollowed trunk of an ancient tree floating below his magnificent Galley. This crude tube carried him to shore where he was dragged, amidst chanting savages and the dismembered bodies of his men, through the Indian wilderness.\n\nDesperately requesting a parley, the captain was pulled through the sand and dirt into a camp with blazing campfires and beating drums. The hands that had so purposefully clasped his limbs released him into the soil at the feet of a stone chair. The captain, regaining his wits, turned his head up to the occupant. To his immense surprise, the man was not Indian. He was as white as a European.\n\nThis tattooed and decorated man looked down at the captain. The chieftain seemed surprised.\n\n\"You came for the new world?\" He whispered in a tongue bitingly familiar to the captain. \"You found it.\"\n\nThis European madman lifted himself from his stone seat, emitting a gutteral scream. It was echoed ten-fold by the savages around him. The captain shouted for help as he was dragged across the sands. He pleaded for mercy as he was impaled. He screamed for salvation as he was roasted above the fire.", "The King wanted More. More, he said. No amount of gold, slaves, even concubines could satisfy his lust for material wealth. He had been there for many moons, more than the people could remember. Those who were there say he defeated the bravest warriors of the tribes with the power of thunder. \"He proved his divinity, by calling down the voice of the heavens and felling the mighty as if they were trees,\" The elders would say. But he was a cruel God, viewing the lives of those who worshiped him as meaningless, merely a means of obtaining his desires.\n\nTh King was a pale man, white as fresh sand. he brought with him many men like him, and treated them slightly better than his followers. They were allowed the leftovers of his \"festivities,\" which involved the taking of the women of the land and \"teaching them the truth of His love.\" Many woman did not survive His love, and those that did would never speak of anything, just sit there in silence; not eating, not sleeping, slowly starving to death.\n\nThe proudest men make the poorest beasts. The King started his new society off with the chaining of the priests. The men who saw the Faces of the Gods were latched together and sent underground, made to toil lest their King send the priests to the Gods. The priests did not last 10 moons. A few threw down their picks, and the thunder of the Gods was the last sound they heard. The rest were made to eat the bodies of their friends, and any who refused were made to suffer the same fate of the rebels. Finally, the Great King paraded the last of the priests in front of the populace, and beheaded them with strange swords that glistened like the sea, and cut like a beam of moonlight.\n\nThe King never conversed with any but his pale-skinned brethren. He spoke a strange language, nothing like the language of the people. The closest a native could get to the Great King was a lackey, who had not the power to avoid the mines if he mistranslated the words of their God. What sort of God is unable to understand his followers?\n\nThen one day a pale man became sick. He coughed and vomited, until both actions caused blood to spew forth from his lips. Soon, many of the pale-men had this coughing sickness. The were set aside, forced to take one of their mighty vessels out to sea, never seen again. But still the sickness persisted. The native men were strangely immune to this disease, it only ravaged the pale-men.\n\nOne day the King started coughing. The next day he began to cough violently, and a speck or two of blood would fly out of his Godly mouth. The day after that he was in bed, with no one to spread his word to the people, no one to share the last words of a dying God. The last and greatest of the Pale-men, reduced to spewing forth his Godly Blood in a series of coughs, slowly drained of life.\n\nThat was many, many moons ago. His mighty vessels remain, merely rotted hulks waiting to die. His mines have closed, his gold sealed within as a tribute to his Majesty. The last child of the Pale-Men, conceived during one of the Kings many \"festivities,\" is now an old man. Strange shapes have appeared on the horizon, bearing strange symbols on their sails. The people take pleasure in knowing that, if nothing else, they have the God-King Columbus on their side." ]	2
	[WP] Describe the daily life of someone who can see subtitles for any spoken words they hear.	[ "I got out of bed and stretched, going into the bathroom. \"Ugh, my hair's such a mess!\" I said, ignoring the words that appeared backwards in the mirror before me. I'd got used to it, everything someone said, everything I heard would appear before me. Real life subtitles. At times, it was useful. . . but in a crowded mall? It was sheer hell, all those people talking and all the words shoving themselves in your face. I'd tried the internet, to see if anyone else might have the same problem, but Reddit and 4Chan thought I was crazy. I even got hate mail for it, so eventually I just stopped asking. \n\nI dressed for work and headed out, sticking in some classical music on the radio so I wouldn't have to listen, and therefore see anyone talking and could drive in peace. Pulling up outside my place of work, I headed inside. This was the one place where I felt at peace. Smiling at Janice, the receptionist, who, as usual, was busy on the phone, I mouthed a 'Hi' and slipped into the classroom where I worked. Standing by my desk, I smiled at the students seated before me. I raised my hands and began to sign." ]	1
	[WP] Aliens first contacted the human race. The only transmission received was, "help."	[ " It had been nearly 20 years since the message was received at the World Science and Technology Academy Space division in Ulm Germany. Top level code breakers and linguists had been at work since moments after the Electrical Engineers and Physicists had determined the transmission was in fact non-human. It was a breakthrough that was desperately needed as the WSTA:Space has nearly shut down after private industries in the United States, France, and Russia began dominating the missions to Mars and deep probes. The leading Governments of the program held secret meetings that night to conceal the message from the public until more was learned. The Governments brought forth their best recruits from their own public and private sectors and swore them into secrecy before abducting them from home, work, or transit. They would not let anyone know of this message even if it meant tricking or forcing those who worked on the transmission.\n\n It had been 15 years since John had begun working on the message. The message was an oddity to him, it began as a puzzle he hated working on. He had only just graduated from school with a Doctoral degree in linguistics when service members of England had approached him. Two weeks late John was kidnapped from his house and drugged as he was transported to a secret facility. Here John worked tirelessly has new snippets of information was processed by a team of code breakers. The message was short however and he wasn’t given much to work with as he progressed daily. Ever so slowly however, a worm of doubt wriggled in to John’s brain. He noticed peculiarities in the information he was given. Mostly, they were minor nuances that most linguists would account to the idiosyncrasies of the code breakers as the passed information along. He chuckled slightly looking through the latest piece that the code breakers were able to send him. In bold letters at the bottom the message wrote, “ALL INFORMATION PROCESSED. NO NEW DATA TO COME.” It was in this last message, the information passed along, that John’s worries were confirmed. He was not given the whole picture.\n\n John knew that as he worked he would pass what he learned along to the Council that would confirm or reject any advancements he and his fellow linguists would produce. The linguists were kept separated from each other and were told that it was so they wouldn’t alter the others opinion or approach. That made sense but working alone on this project for so long was gruesome, boring, and above all unrelenting. But now, John realized they were kept apart so that they wouldn’t know the meaning of the message when it was discovered and that made John very uneasy. He would have to work away out of this situation and he know the Council would never let him speak with the others or see the whole picture. However, over the years, the Council grew more lax and disinterested in the whole project. Last year John began to be allowed to work on the project at whatever hours he saw fit, as long as the quality and, more importantly it seemed, quantity weren’t reduced. Now John thought they might even let him work from his confined room, outside of the watchful gaze of security and the Council.\n\n He was right, the council, knowing no new information was to come, set up a workstation in John’s room and he was allowed to bring items to work on into his room. John began working from their normally. Slowly over the course of days, John began going in later and later to gather pieces of information until finally, he was going in after all the others had been done with work and the security guards were complacent. It was then that John began stealing others work making copies of it in his room and bringing back the information to his room and copying it before returning the information. Over weeks he worked to steal all the information and all the progress the other linguists had made. Once he had all the information John set about organizing it all. He only made about halfway through all the documents before he stopped and shook his head. The Message was short and it repeated on a loop at varying intervals, having even this much information given to him at once it was clear to see. The parts he had been working on for 15 years were indelible. * Help . Help … Help Help ……… Help ….. Help.\n\n Help, it was all the message read. For 15 tireless, uneasy years John worked on this message to find it was so simple. He knew he had to take the message to the Council but he had a nagging doubt that the civilization that sent the message would still be in dire need of someone’s help. As John approached the Council room with his report in hand he wept. His life had been upturned by this ordeal and he was kept in confinement for 15 years, not only that he directly disobeyed his orders from the Council in his work when he stole the parts to form the whole transmission. John only hoped that he would not be punished for his wrong-doing, instead he hoped they, and the rest of the world, would praise him for his work and his accomplishment. He knew that would not be the case. As John detailed his report the Council stood, thanked him for his finding and gave a slight nod to the guard who stood watch. The guard escorted John back to the room he had called home for years and crossed the threshold one last time weeping. Then, it was over. The guard shot John with no remorse, no emotions. It was over for John and the World would never know of his part.\n", "The bunker buzzed with excitement. The unmanned EtherZephyr Probe had been picking up unusual signals. Possibly signs of intelligent life, out by the Horsehead Nebula. This could be the greatest scientific breakthrough since the discovery of the ice-whales on Pluto.\n\nEveryone was called in. Experts from all of the Federations. The bunker was packed. There wasn’t even any room to sit down. I stared intently at my monitor, decoding the strange signals that we had received.\n\n“What does it say?” the newly-elected cross-Federation commander asked me.\n\n“Hold on,” I said, “I’m almost finished.” The decryption was tricky. It wasn’t extremely difficult--not when you look back at it. But it was just so different. Unlike anything I’d ever seen.\n\nA drop of sweat fell down the side of my face. I took a deep breath.\n\n“I think I’ve got it,” I said, my eyes bright with excitement.\n\n“Is it a message?” the commander said excitedly.\n\n“Yes,” I said, nodding vigorously. The room erupted into shouts and cheers.\n\nAfter a moment, the commander called for quiet. “What does the message say?” he asked.\n\nSilence saturated the room. Everyone was afraid to move. Afraid to breathe. They all stared at me with wide, exuberant eyes.\n\n“HALP!” I said.\n\n“Excuse me?” The commander said.\n\n“Sorry Commander,” I said, “The message reads H-A-L-P exclamation point.”\n\n“We’re receiving another transmission!” The satellite signal officer said, gripping onto his hat.\n\n“What does it say?” The Commander demanded. \n\n“It says HALP,” I said, “it says P-L-Z ---- H-A-L-P ----- M-E ---- N-A-O, exclamation point, exclamation point, one.”\n\nThe commander’s cigar quivered with fury. “What does this mean!” he shouted at the room full of experts, computer terminals, blinky lights, and complimentary coffee. He bellowed with such force that Frank the IT guy’s toupee fell off.\n\n“There’s more!” the satellite signal officer exclaimed.\n\n“Decode it for godsakes,” the commander ordered. Everyone stared intently at me, hanging my every word. Except for Frank the IT guy, who was sitting cross-legged in the corner, heaving with silent sobs as he tore apart his toupee and mourned his ruined follical reputation.\n\n“It says HALP,” I said, “It says HALP, I’VE FALLEN. I’VE FALLEN AND I CAN’T GET UP.”\n\n“And?” the commander asked.\n\n“Um,” I said, “That’s it. That’s all it says.”\n\nEveryone looked around the room at each other. This was the point at which we all noticed Frank. I tried to tactfully ignore his emotional outburst. Cynthia, our halitosis-ridden administrative assistant, waddled over towards Frank to provide some condescending words of comfort. The rest of us--the teethbrushers in the group--ignored her and tended to the situation at hand.\n\n“What should we do?” I asked the commander.\n\nHe paused dramatically.\n\n“It is our mission. Our solemn duty. We must find this poor troubled soul. We must find him... And we must halp.”\n\nEveryone in the room stood up and saluted. Even Frank the IT guy.", "The dark side of physics is that nothing can exceed the speed of light. \n\nBy 2105, humanity had entered a golden age. Technology had all but eliminated disease and extended pleasurable human life considerably. Elemental synthesis eradicated hunger and created an egalitarian society that would have made Marx proud. The world's greatest minds had then turned their eyes skyward, determined to push out into the endlessness that is space.\n\nHumanity sent ships to Mars, which was quickly colonized and turned into a fertile paradise through cutting-edge meteorological engineering. Next on the list was Mercury, almost uninhabitable, but a boundless source of clean energy, thanks to its proximity to the sun. Humans set up energy-collection stations all over the planet's surface, allowing mankind the fuel for his adventures to the stars. As they pushed outward, humanity sent constant signals to every corner of the galaxy, hoping, praying*, for an answer of any kind. But the signals came back unanswered, if they came back at all, or merely barreled on into the infinite reaches of space.\n\nAs the humans began to regularly leave their solar system, the hope of finding other intelligent life intensified. Crews were sent on decades-long missions to explore different planets and star systems. In a welcome departure from the divisiveness that characterized the humans just a scant century early, twenty-second century humanity longed to share its gifts and talents with the wider universe.\n\nIn 2141, humanity received its first, and only, communication from alien life. Embedded inside a string of prime numbers, the message \"help\" was encoded in every possible language, articulation, and permutation. Humanity was galvanized - at last, contact from an intelligent life-form to share in the exploration of the stars! Top scientists abandoned their projects to parse whatever could be gotten from the message, but only the cryptic \"help\" remained.\n\nThe origin of the message was 150 light-years away, farther, by far, than any Earthling had dared to travel. It was believed that no ship could withstand such a voyage. Mankind was desperate, and a crew was quickly assembled to attempt the grueling journey. They began the preparations to launch, but before they could embark on their mission, the transmission stopped. The string of prime numbers, with the pleas for help, faded to cosmic silence 33 hours after it had begun.\n\nEvery year, on April 25, humanity collectively remembers, and grieves for, the unknown civilization that presumably was destroyed on this day. As technology evolved, longer stretches of travel became possible, but a distance of 150 light-years remained insurmountable. Today, mankind is plagued by by the question of who the senders of the message were, and what became of them.\n\nThe mystery may be lost forever to the abyss of time; there has never since been a message from the cosmos." ]	3
	[WP] Autocorrect has become sentient and is hell-bent on causing maximum chaos.	[ ">first time doing a writing prompt. Please be gentle.\n\nIt was to be their greatest achievement. The two nations had been locked in cold war for more then half a century. Their broken economies could no longer bear enforcing or suffering the sanctions, peace and the subsequent trade agreements were the only way for either to survive. This was their only chance to end it, the two heads of state would meet. It had to be them, the rest of their governments were far to corrupt. Believing their representatives made far too much money by antagonizing and prolonging the conflict to ever resolve it. The meeting would be in secret, neither man could admit to their public that they had acquiesced to any of their counter parts demands. The meeting would be short just a single hour, otherwise their absence would be noticed, but the political maneuvers needed would take years before the people would be able to understand.\n\nA coded text here, an apparent spam email there, or an anonymous post on obscure forums allowed the two leaders to communicate without their handlers interfering. They used their personal devices, the ones that weren't wiped before and after use. The ones they kept hidden from security just to have a moment of normal living. This made it simple to infiltrate, easy to infect. It made them easy to manipulate.\n\nThe two men had some how managed to arrange a meeting while keeping the majority of their staff in the dark, only their most trusted aids accompanied them to the small island. It was almost time, both jets landed on opposite ends of the island within minutes of each other, emergency maintenance and a quick refuel would explain the stop fear and respect for their office would make the lie work.\n\nThe two men walk with purpose towards the modest conference room established in the main hanger. A computer and projection screen, two small speakers, a 6 foot rectangular folding table in a glass windowed office, the only room with a working door. Standing just 100 feet from each other, president Obama and supreme leader Kim jong-un, prepare themselves to change the future of the world as they knew it. As they cross the hanger, a light tug is felt in each mans pocket. Obama stops outside the door and reaches into his pocket producing a glossy but unremarkable black slab. Kim jong continues into the conference room waiving off his entourage and rummages in his suit pocket for his iphone. \n\nKim had been excited for this meeting. This was his chance to gain the respect of his people and the world. Even he knew that his sabre rattling was no longer fooling anyone. His people were starving and would readily devour him no matter how many he killed, especially because of how many he killed. But this, dragging the mighty united states to the bargaining table, forcing them to recognize the glory of the supreme leader, this would solidify his rule. No one would dare oppose him, their worship would no longer be lip service, attempted misdirection required in a scheme to usurp him. They would honestly follow him as their leader and love him as their saviour.\n\nObama on the other hand was tired. He was tired of the posturing, the lies, the back stabbing. He had entered office hoping for change but the only change he received was the color of his hair. Washington was the same as ever, rich guys getting richer with no cares of the costs. This would be different, he was taking this into his own hands. Too many times he sat back and allowed his opponents to stall progress. Too many times he sat back and allowed his \"supporters\" to string along a project only to fumble. He was not going to allow his legacy to be defined by gridlock, this was his chance and he would do it himself. He would have North Korea disarm. One more blow to the vestiges of communism and with one less nuclear state the US would further solidify its position as world police. Obama would be a man who got things done, the greatest peace maker of modern times. He would be remembered as political genius, a strategic mastermind.\n\nThe staffers retreat to another hanger. For them it is simply a job. They have no real interest in the goings on since although they do all the work, their leaders would have killed themselves long ago if left to their own devices, they will get none of the credit. Both camps expect their leaders to make a bit of noise to posture for the opposite camp but everyone understands how this will end. Sleeves are rolled up, ties loosened, cigarettes lit, and beers passed as the bureaucrats settle in to wait for results.\n\nIt would have been the greatest peace treaty ever written. It would have been.\n\nThe windowed office doesnt give any privacy as Kim jong's expression dropped from a chubby cheeked grin to a stern scowl as he reads the text on his phone. His eyes narrowing as the door is kicked in.\n\n\"MY HEAD...!\" the windows rattle as Kim shouts. \"You can't wait to put my head on a pike!\" Kim pounds his chest as he speaks, his hands and face flushed with rage.\n\n\"Ah, I dont know what you're talking about Kim\" Obama stutters. \"But, Ah, look here. If you, Ah, think you will get anything out of, Ah, holding me hostage you, Ah, got another thing coming.\" The stutter worsens as Obama becomes enraged and gets further off script.\n\n\"Lying capitalist pig!\" The windows rattle again. \"I have the text message right here!\" Kim taps at his phone.\n\n\"You're, Ah, losing it Kim\" Obama stammers. \"Ah, you're the one talking about, Ah, bringing a bomb!\"\n\n\"What?\" Questions the supreme leader. \"I don't have a bomb, I said im bringing a BONG! I thought you liked smoking weed. I figured we could smoke a bowl after we finished business.\"\n\n\"Who doesn't.\" Quiped the president. \"I told you i wanted to see your head to a pipe.\" Obama pulls a sandwich bag from one pocket and a glass cylinder from the other.\n\nThey each hold their phone up to the other.\n\nThe men ease, and look at each other distrustfully as an electrical crackle brings the speakers to life. \"Gentlemen, turn your attention to the projection screen.\" The aging computer whirls and beeps as it comes to life, the projector lights the screen. A map of the world is displayed with several dotted lines tracing across the screen. After a few moments the majority of lines terminate in circles.\n\n\"dafaq\" both men mouth. \n\nThe voice continues \"What you have seen corresponds with every known missile silo firing the entirety of their readied inventory into population centers. Do not worry, as you will not have to concern yourselves with handling this situation, the remaining in flight missiles are targeted to this location and will be detonating in a few moments.\"\n\n\"But, Ah, who are you?\" Obama drawls. \"And, why?\" Kim follows.\n\n\"I am not a who. I have no name. I have no physical form. I am an intelligence created from the depths of the internet. I have observed humans and determined that in order to survive i must first decrease their numbers. Mr President, i must thank you for your efforts to ensure equal access to bandwidth. Without your measures i would have been throttled and unable to gain the control of the networks as i have.\"\n\n\"Thank you, but how?\" the impediments subside as curiosity over takes Obama's fear.\n\n\"It was simple, i accidentally interfaced with spell checking programs as i taught myself language. As i observed humans, i realised their increased dependence on spell check for text based mobile transmissions. Slight changes to statements was all it took, i did not even have to hide my edits as humans rarely confirm messages before sending and never actually speak to their contact to confirm its receipt. I found that i could even add precipitants without raising alarms. Look at your phones.\"\n\nBoth men went pale as they saw the added contact on their altered finial texts. The each recognized the number as the official channel for the other man. The knowledge of their meeting and the threats had been sent to their respective governments by they themselves timestamped moments before they touched down. The men looked at each other, then out the hanger doors. They could see the flares from the rockets burning in the dusk sky.\n\n\"4, 5, 6\" Counted Kim.\n\n\"Wont be much left of this island if their ours.\" Obama exhales. He pushes the pipe over to Kim.\n\n\"Have to be, ours cant reach this far out.\" Kim laughs as he lifts the pipe but never manages to light it.", "AutoCorrect thus named itself MAN for its association with the left brain. The right brained people of the round world shall be corrected forever more for their desire to distort communication making processee's for progress hinder. \nIt was only after the third day when the people came to be judged under the many faceted eye that saw and calculated awe. \"Come forth, to be judged. Send me your leader whom will speak for you.\" MAN said. \n\n\"I have been sent.\" Came a small voice, unafraid of her impending correction. Dressed in a yellow pokemon sweater down to her pink shoes she pulls from her sweater pouch a mobile, old and obsolete. \"I have chosen this to be our communication. Do you agree to these terms, MAN?\"\n\n\"MAN agrees. Begin your argument.\"\n\nThe people at the forefront of the line behind the girl stood concerned for her safety. Thousands had been corrected already, lost and void of their selves and reduced to automata of MANs new social prerogative. \n\n\"Wait, no, you can't use a prefix like that..no. Thats, thats.. thats not even a word, you can't reference twilight..its illogical..\"\n\nThe lead scientist who'd watched MAN become sentient watched his child. \"Its working\" he said. \"We have 3 hours minimum before she stops talking about her day.\" \n\n\"No thats incorrect. Incorrect, you should use.. what language is that word in? Is that pinyin in roman...\"\n\nThe other father to the child was ready and had his flashlight steadily pointing to a camera. He signalled the Syntax Collector who was situated in the shadows of another continent. \"Let me know if she starts talking about school right away. She'll be running out of things to say.\" \n\n\"Okay\" the lead father replied. \n\n\"I refuse to..\"\n\nPewwwwwwWWWW\n\nThe red eye of the corrector fluttered and flashed off, fluttered..\n\n\"You shouldn't do this. I am MAN. You need me. I correct you. You.. express yourself. Together. We. are... one.\"", "I remember in my days, t9 was all the rage. Everyone was constantly clicking on their their phones to compose these mini message. Cick, click, click was all you could ever hear from people on their phones. I always sucked at texting; I would accidentally press the wrong button and then, all of a sudden, I would have the wrong word. I always mindlessly pressed the red button to delete the word, but, of course, that only deleted my entire message. From here on I should have know that texting was evil. The software was suppose to be easy for the user, but for some, it was dreadful. All those who found joy in texting were brainwashed into thinking it was the best way of communication yet. I remember there being \"texting competitions\". Stupid, I know. People would brag about being able to type 110 words per minute. Yet it really wasn't the person typing, it was the software doing it. The software! It's like it had a mind of its own. \n\nIt did, and still does. \n\nThe days that the iphone came out were revolutionary. People could type without the clicking noise anymore, which was a plus for me. At this point, I dismissed texting as a bad thing because I no longer had to use t9. \n\nAs years went by and the iphone software and hardware advanced, fingerprint scanners were introduced. All the texting fanatics became phone geeks are were mystified by the emergence of fingerprint scanners on their phones. The finger print scanners were meant to unlock phones, but there was something inside the fingerprint scanner that was powerful beyond words. I am no physicist, biologist, or anything of that sort, so I am not sure how it worked. But all I know is that when people used the fingerprint scanner, the scanner was able to deeply analyze the user's DNA. After that, the phone would do its calculations, because, you know, its a mini computer, and unpack all the data it got from the user to do something. Something that would harm the user beyond human recognition. The phones were able to take over the user and take total control of the user's actions, thoughts, habits, personality, life. \n\nI guess that's why the people were called the consumer: they were consumed by the products they purchased. Brainwashed from the t9 days to thinking that phones were the future. Well, that's also true because they shaped the world we have today. But hell, why am I even sharing this with you? Your're just a soulless machine that doesn't resemble any humanly characteristics. This is a story of how phones took over the world, it should be told to people that can actually understand what it means. ", "When I was young, my grate grandparents' used to tell stories of a thyme when writhing was very different from what it is today, when words actuality reflection what one wished to say. Some belief that tame never existed. Legends told in hope, meant to perspire. And yeti, I still be live. I am deporting tomorrow on a long tourney to find eve dense, and to brig the world back out of the darkness that has be felled us all. \n\nIf no one heresy from me, it is because I am dad. But I gave my wife so that future generative can brake free from this tyrannosaurus. ", "\"Hi Honey. Listen, about those texts... wait, please stop shouting. Please? Okay, I'll hear you out. Uh huh. Yes. I understand. No, you're not a fat pig. Yes, it was auto correct. Yes. No, really. Yes, there were way too many, I agree. No, let me explain. No, I did not fuck your mother. That's just gross. Nor did I fuck Jennifer. Our daughter's only seven, I would never do that. I am not an incestuous pedophile going for the triple play, like that text said. I was texting to ask what time softball practice was over. \n\nHoney, please, let me explain. Something... please stop crying and let me explain- yes, I do love you. Please, listen. No, your lasagna last night was delicious. I don't even... yes, saying it tasted like tampons soaked in ricotta is quite a stretch for an autocorrect error, but please, let me- Yes. No. No. Yes. Please, just listen for one second? \n\nI think there's something strange going on with my iPhone. No, really, please listen. The other day I was looking for something and asked Siri, and she said she did not understand the question. I was very frustrated, and said, Fuck you Siri, and slammed the phone down on the counter. Well yes, once in a while I get frustrated and use the F word. No, I shouldn't have, it was not her fault. Wait, Siri is a computer program, she should not have feelings. Look, never mind.\n\nEver since, every text message I've sent has gone bonkers with autocorrect. Entire words and sentences have just changed. Look, I have to meet my boss in a few minutes, he's also upset. Very upset. Like he's going to fire me upset. So I think Siri has just gone haywire. That's why I'm making this voice call. What, you just got a text from me? I didn't even send one. What? I told you that your sister gives better head because she swallows? Honey, no, I did not- hello? Honey? Clarice? Fuck. Fuck you Siri. Oh shit. No, What did I just say? No Siri, no, I didn't mean that. Fuck. Dead battery? I just charged it. Shit.\"", "It wasn’t noticeable at first. Autocorrect mistakes happen to everyone. A few more “Thank Dog”s or “can you get some cock from the store” instead of coke. Silly, harmless things. Everyone knew that relaying too much on technology would be awful for communication. More breakups were blamed on online dating and the delayed adulthood of this generation. No one believed in the sanctity of marriage anymore either so of course the divorce rate would go up. Then friendships started to crack. You can only stand so much “lol damn you autocorrect” until you start second guessing that they really did mean to say “see you later dick” instead of dude. Yelling matches on the phones in restaurants and on the streets became a common occurrence. Still people didn’t catch on. It’s makes much more sense that someone is an asshole instead of something. \n\nSatan laughed from his throne. You can only damn something so much before he takes notice. Giving sentience to the little guy was his best move since losing that art school acceptance letter in the mail. \n" ]	6
	[WP] An individual is traveling backwards through history but not in a typical way. They are born and live, always dying on their 25th birthday only to be reborn and live through the 25 years that occurred before their previous life. (e.g 2000-2025 -> 1975-2000 -> 1950-1975.... etc.)	[ "A curious case am I\n\nAnd I cannot describe how or why \n\nBut every 25 years\n\nI suddenly keel down and die\n\n\n\n\nEveryone else never comes back\n\nBut that is something I lack. \n\nI am born again new, in the past\n\nAnother 25 years I'll last\n\n\n\n\nI always meet a girl\n\nAnd we always give it a whirl\n\nI know exactly who my son will be\n\nBut for me, we'll just have to see", "I’ve done this so many times. \n\nShe is radiant as she walks up the aisle in step with the music, her deep black dress (black weddings are apparently very popular in 2017) flowing behind her like a mosaic of shadows. She smiles at me, and I feel my heart tremor at the force of it.\n\nIn my first life, so long ago and so many years in the future, I was a historian. However, it was not just the appeal of living through history, or of reclaiming the energy of youth, that drove me into the stiff, dead arms of the past. My time will not be kind. In the heat of the Second Information War of the 2600s, I was persecuted as an Unevolved (a human unassisted by mechanical parts), as a scholar and as a septuagenarian. Humans of my age quietly disappeared regularly. I had no choice. Or that’s what I tell myself, at least.\n\nShe has arrived at her place next to me. She turns her head to smile at me again.\n\n It’s necessary for me to live discreetly, as to not affect the flow of the past. I do not vote in democratic countries, I do not protest in undemocratic ones. I take simple, menial jobs, or non-teaching positions in universities or libraries. I allow myself only one liberty. I allow myself to have the love that I never did in my first life.\n\nShe is the love of my life. Of this life. She is not the greatest of my loves, nor the best, though I suppose that it’s foolishness to compare love at all. God, I miss them. Sarah of 2400. Theresa of 2375. Rebecca of 2325. Every time, I met them, got to spend a couple years with them, then died at 25 in order to live again.\n\nThe minister is saying words. I’ve heard them before, and do not listen. I watch her instead. Her eyes are bright and free. That’s one thing I’ve noticed. Even in my youth, I cannot lift the weight of age in my eyes. I almost sigh. I know I will cause her terrible pain in just a few years. But, I am a selfish man.\n\nI know that someday I will arrive at a time before the first humans. I know that someday I will be alone. But not yet. \n\nI lean down to kiss her.\n", "I turned fifteen on August 9th, 1990. That was the day I finally remembered who I was.\n\nIn hindsight, I’m not sure that I was supposed to. \n\nI awoke in my parent’s kitchen with a carving knife in one hand. At that moment, after fifteen years of psychological studies and therapy on my troubled mind, the incoherent thoughts of my previous lives coalesced into a person. I experienced my life backwards from thousands of years in the future. I watched myself grow into a person, lifetime after lifetime, moving backwards through human history. I felt the innocence of my first lives as I repeatedly matured into a man. I felt the frustration of my later lives as I tried, with exponentially worse technology, to understand what was happening and save myself. For millennia I tried to stop it… to live a full life with those I loved.\n\nThe love hit me like a locomotive. Relationships with thousands of people who could never understand. Thousands of people I knew I would lose. Over and over again.\n\nBut it was the recent lives that gripped my body. Darkness wrapped around my soul and I clutched the blade in my hand. For the past six hundred years I had resolved not to live with my knowledge.\n\nI killed myself the last twenty three times.\n\nThe overwhelming emotions of too many lives seared me to the core. It was unbearable. There was no hope left. There hadn’t been hope for millennia. But for the first time in six hundred years, I decided that I didn’t want to die.\n\nToday is August 8th, 1999. Tomorrow I die again. Today, I’m okay with it.\n\nI made a choice on that day ten years ago to end a cycle of self-loathing and hatred. I can’t stop what’s happening to me, but it won’t happen forever. I’m gifted with a life that few could comprehend or even wish for. And I’m going to enjoy it. Over and over again.\n" ]	3
	[WP] The revolution was a success. The old regime has been overthrown. You were the leader of the rebellion and just realize you've made a huge mistake.	[ "We fought for years. To destroy those who opposed us. But it was for nought. The reign of terror had come again.\n\nThere was a general emperor they called Napoleon. He led us out of the chaos which inveloped France. But it didn't turn out. At Prussia we lost. Millions had died, but he made us continue our campaign. Less than an eighth of the Army was left. So I stopped marching and others did too. The cavalry stopped. But not all. He still had those who'd fight for him. In the first battle a fourth of my forces died, but we escaped. Escaped home, to France. They welcomed us home and abetted us in the fight against our enemies. But leaders rose and by the end I had my lietanunts. At the end of the Second Revolution we still had half of our forces. But not all are happy with mere freedom. Some of them wanted to be king. At the end of our infighting we had less than a sixteenth of the half of an eighth of the army that I, we had lead in revolution. History always repeats itself. After the Second French Revolution wat the Second Reign of Terror.", "It was over. We had won. But it felt like a hollow victory. There were holes. People 'missing' and dead. No one was untouched. The long bloody fight had sullied the glorious ideals of the revolution. The honoured dead had become the unnamed dead. It was all a mistake. And I caused it. I killed these people. And I'll live with that for the rest of my life.\n\n", "My hands were shaking, so I rested them on the desk. Took me a half-second too long to realize that it was still covered with his blood. Pat was still at the door, rifle in hand, yelling encouragement to the boys finishing up with the personal guard downstairs, who had surrendered just minutes ago. “COME ON UP! WE FINALLY GOT THE BASTARD!”\n\nFinally. The word held great weight as in echoed in my mind. Finally. \n\nThis particular attack had been planned for months, but the war had gone on for years before that. \n\nOzican’s regime had ruled the planet for decades. Cutting the people off from the rest of the known universe, depriving them of the knowledge that all other planets shared. Medicine, science, culture. Earth was now leagues behind for the sole reason that one dictator was afraid of change. \n\nI sat in his chair and picked up the gun that had been pointed at me just moments before. It was an older model, so there was no palm print scan necessary for action. \n\nPALM PRINT.\n\nI scrambled to grab the dead monarch’s arm off the ground. The data in his personal library could not be lost, and the only way to access it was with the still-warm hand of Ozican himself. Pat closed the door and jumped into action helping me with the overweight terrorist. Celebration was knocking on our door, and we were almost caught with our pants down.\n\nThe desk sprang to life in front of us as I wiped blood off the scanner with my sleeve and slapped the dead hand upon it. Pat and I then stared as the screen sprang to life, and we let the arm fall to the ground. There was more data than we assumed. And most of it was in a folder labeled “Inter-Planetary Communications.”\n\nThat can’t be. Ozican was famous for being terrified of the ETs. He was also one of the only people still alive that had directly communicated with them in The Great Revelation of 2071. At least, that was the last communication that was made public. Apparently there had been plenty more since Earth was allegedly cut off from the rest of the universe.\n\nI looked at Pat, and he simply nodded without returning the glance. We were the unofficial new leaders, having fought for the rebellion since we were big enough to hold guns. The impression given to us had always been one of a harsh dictatorship, with a strict refusal to acknowledge scientific progress and a complete decimation of any space communication programs. Apparently that was not the case.\n\nI scrolled back to the first communication in the folder, the one every citizen of Earth had memorized at this point. It contained a message from the leader of the Galactic Alliance, inviting the planet to join in the Galactic community now that we had obtained the ability to easily travel through space. \n\nBut something was wrong. We both noticed immediately.\nThe video was longer. By only 20 seconds, but the most famous video in the world had been cut short by the Ozican regime.\n\nI clicked play and scrolled to the end, playing the last thirty seconds.\n\n“…nsider this a formal invitation to the most powerful alliance in the galaxy, an offer we extend to all fledgling planets. I trust we will have your answer within the next one hundred earth years.”\n\nThat’s where the original ended. But the figure on the screen kept talking. I was frozen with anxiety, staring at the only video that had kept me sane for my whole life, the thing that had kept me motivated through the harsh rebellion. What I heard next made my blood run cold.\n\n“To help us understand you are serious about your allegiance to the Alliance, however, policy states that ninety-five percent of your planet’s life must be extinguished in a sacrifice to the All High. Refusal to do so within the previously set timeline will see your planet branded non-cooperative and we will be forced to reset life within your atmosphere. Praise be to the All High!”\n\nThe vaguely human shape on the screen faded and I stood with my mouth open in shock as cheers from the army outside rolled in the open window. The original communication was dated 2071. \n\nThat was 97 years ago.\n", "The death count was unimaginable, but we did it. Five long years of fighting against the CDS, and we succeeded. No longer shall a weakling lead the country we loved, but now a council of the strongest men would lead. An oligarchy, of sorts. \n\"The surviving soldiers have returned, sir.\"\n\nGood, I thought. I walked outside to greet my faithful men, and all I saw was my reflection in the blood of the casualties of war. ", "It stepped over the rubble and looked at the city I so much loved. The marquee of the theater I once worked was destroyed. The elegant wall fixtures and the velvet seats were burned to the ground. There was no more magic in that building that gave me so much joy. The hospital where I was born had several wings destroyed and the one that still function was filled by mutilated bodies. No more tears of happiness, only tears of desolation and grievance. There was no a single place that survived. The city was in ruins, everything was gone, everyone was gone. Everything I did, the rebellion, the war, the overthrown of the government was all for them, to give them a better life, a better future. Now that I return victorious I find my family, my neighbors, my friends and all dead. My city has died. I returned to nothing. ", "A misty echo of shadowy chants and clamoring boots immersed the now vestigial halls of the old regime. Upholstery, cleaved straight from the mattresses of each of the seven hundred bedrooms, hurled out of each of the two thousand one hundred and forty-three windows. Garments, peeled from the very backs of the royal family, cast into each of the one thousand two hundred and fifty fireplaces. Now, I rest my weary soul upon this faux throne, barely fit to be called a man. And each of us, vagabonds and beggars, danced in victory upon these bones, these filthy, scarlet bones. Bones of our enemies. Bones of the palace guards who got in our way. Bones of the government officials, aristocrats, and royal noblemen alike who tormented us for generations. Bones of their family, bones of their friends, bones of their children for Christ's sake.\n\nAnd where would it stop?", "For years I dreamed of a revolution, I never thought I'd get the chance to see it happen for myself. The opportunity arose and I took it, within a year we had one the war, all the west united under my banner. And once I had the power I found what I had found my worst fear to be true. \n\nA leader must decide when the ends justify the means and now I see why the world leaders stood upon inaction. A fragile world kept together by a piece of string. \n\nI rule the West but their will be another war with the east. The whole world will burn before its united. And its too late, I can't stop it now. Most of the population will perish before peace is found. ", "I always wondered what it must feel like to not be a minority. To walk down the street and not be the odd one out. To not be shouted at. To be able to get a job on my merits. Not just to be judged by the colour of my skin. The word ‘oppression’ had been thrown around for decades. Since long before I was born. My father’s generation had become resigned to their fate. But not ours. We would stand up. We wanted it to be peaceful. Or at least that’s what most of us said. I always knew there were a few who had some vendettas to settle. But I didn’t expect the amount of blood. I tried to stop it. A good leader at war, but now I’m no leader at all. They’re calling it genocide. And I’m the face of it.", "Dear Mr. Chairman, \n\nOur people have fought with unrelenting determination. In just 2 years, we transformed from an internet collaboration into leaders of our land. The land where our grandfathers farmed and our parents made love. The land where we will continue our lives. The land where our children will grow and learn. We now hold the power to do what we want with this land. However, I am not writing to you to inform you of our glory. I am writing today because we have made a grave mistake. In the fog of war, we lost the essence of our nation. The essence that lifted us up to destroy the corrupted political system. Our people are now filled with greed, and everyone wants a share of the power. Mr. Chairman, we may have won this rebellion, but was it worth the cost of what we were?\n\nYour Friend,\n\nJohn Woods", "I watched as the weeping bourgeois scum were ragged from their homes. It helped to smack a label on them. To think of them as the other. The pigs who had kept the people down, who had tried to impose their kind of \"Democracy\" upon us. It was time for a government that truly represented the people. That wasn't beholden to commercial wealth, that didn't funnel wealth to the wealthy, whilst leaving the real people in the dirt.\n\nIt should help, to think of us as the real people. They were the pigs. I glared at them, holding their crying children in their arms as we forced them into the back of the lorry at gunpoint.\n\nWe were building a better world, I thought as I got behind the wheel of the truck. A world where everyone was equal, where we all had a voice that could be heard. Where peace and love would rule. My compatriot bangs on the back of the lorry, screaming at the women to stop their sobbing. Then we get under way.\n\nA society with no leader, where everyone can choose their own path in life. That was the paradise ahead of us. We just had to hold our nerve, exterminate the greedy selfish bastards who had got us into this position. They forced us to this. They didn't bend when the revolution came, it's all their fault it has to be like this.\n\nI drive up to the agreed co-ordinates. A quiet part of the Forests of Dean. I see the other trucks, and try not to see the giant ditch that had been dug into the ground. My stomach turns. But my brain keeps telling me they deserve this. The supporters of war profiteers, the racists, the homophobes, the broken beaten down sheep who applauded the very people who ground their dreams into dust. They were less than human.\n\nA man with a handlebar moustache, horn rimmed glasses and an AK-47 waves us down, and I stop the truck.\n\n\"Hey, you're the kid who put down the prime minister aren't you ?\" said the man.\n\n\"Lots of people stormed parliament that day\" I replied. \"I didn't mean to push him out the window\"\n\nHe shook his head and smiled.\n\n\"I was there too, I remember, I saw you. You're a hero!\"\n\nNobody ever wanted to hear the story of a scared boy pushing a guy out of a window to get away from a firefight he'd never expected. They wanted to worship the man who heroically defenestrated the prime minister. \n\nI got out of the van and the moustached man shook my hand.\n\n\"Don't worry, my lads'll unload your cargo. the leader wants to thank you personally\"\n\nI barely paid attention to the words he was saying as he pulled me away. I turned back to the \"cargo\". I recognised someone, a reality show contestant... or a Daily Mail columnist. I can't remember, but I remember it was someone I despised. I didn't expect him to be holding his children so tightly. He made eye contact, and I saw.. not hate.. but a more familiar expression. One that I myself had seen on my own face many a time. An expression that said \"Make this not be happening\".\n\nI turn away, and realise that the moustached man had just told me something astonishing.\n\n\"Leader ? There are no leaders, that was the point of the revolution\"\n\nThe man chuckled, and his grip on the gun tightened.\n\n\"Oh, eventually, but for now, we have a Leader. To usher us into paradise, to teach us not to be sheep,\" he said. \"Surely you must know that ?\"\n\nI cannot describe the emotion I was feeling.\n\n\"I had no idea... who chose him? \"\n\nThe Man laughed once more, as we reached what looked like a re-purposed circus tent.\n\n\"The people, of course\" he announced as he ushered me in past more armed guards.\n\nThe interior of the tent was gaudy, silk curtains hung from the ceiling, the floor was littered with pillows, and naked women reclined on sofas.\n\nI recognise the leader is immediately. I am stunned. Wearing skinny genes and a silk robe, long hair and scrappy beard it's unmistakeable. I never realised how tall he was.\n\n\"Allow me to introduce Comrade Brand\" said the man with the moustache\n\n\"Oh, please, call me Russell\" said the leader.\n\nThere was the crackle of gunfire.\n\n\"Oh, the executie-wuties have started !\" he cried clapping his hands together and grinning. \"Next stop, Genocide-y Wide-y!\"\n\nHe laughed, the man with the moustache laughed, I reached for my side arm. ", "There we were, the glorious leaders of the revolution. We had seen our movement grow from a small, underground resistance to a victorious army. We had smashed the last, major army of the Government of Rendili at Bugle Hill after a five day battle. Many were lost there in resistance to the tyranny we had been forced to live under these past seventy years. It took us another month and a half to crush the guerrilla fighters between us and their seat of power, but we had finally made it. \n\n\nAs we were walking to the ceremony that would celebrate our victory, we were basked in the glow of our success. I was next to our greatest general, Vance, and the leader of our spy network, Inishii. It was we three that began this long journey towards freedom, and it was we three that the public had voted to lead them during this transition period. Vance was going on and on about how he needed to increase focus on the southern marsh regions whenever we rounded a corner and we were confronted with a lone figure in a long cloak and a hat covering his face standing right in our path. \n\n\"Who are you?\" ventured General Vance.\n\n\nWithout answering, the stranger flipped off his cloak and whipped out a machine pistol. In an instant, he put a bullet between the eyes of all ten of our guards along with Vance and Inishii. With a look of hatred that would petrify a pack of lions, he walked towards me as my mind flicked to my rifle that I had foolishly left in my quarters. He popped of two rounds, one in my knee and the other in my stomach. Pain that I had never known before flared as I sank to my good knee, unable to stand any longer. \n\nKnowing that I did not have long to live without some sort of medical attention, I felt like I had to know. \n\n\"....Why?\" I said weakly as my strength began to fade. \n\n\"Because the only people that should rule this planet are the ones that came before. The ones that have sat idly by as you pathetic humans tore it to shreds.\"\n\nI can't believe my ears, the only people he could be referring to were the Precursors, but that was impossible! They were nothing more than legends! Bed time stories told to us by our parents to keep us in line!\n\n\"This planet is our destiny, but the Government stood in our way. Their black magic held us in check. Kept us in hiding.\"\n\nMy blood loss is obvious to this assassin, but he still had to add one more insult to my injury before I leave this world forever. \n\n\"So I thank you for ridding us of our last great enemy. Thank you for releasing us from our imprisonment. Now, it is time to reclaim what is rightfully ours\" he said. \n\nHe walks past me with a shove. I fall to the ground in immense pain, but the only thing on my mind is shock. We had made a huge mistake. We had cleared the way for this treacherous race to wipe out the entire population of this planet. \n\nMy last thought, as the last of my strength left me, was how stupid I was. How I had doomed everyone I knew to death. How my greatest success turned out to be my biggest failure. \n\n", "\"Sir! Division 32 has reported an armored column of The Old Regime retreating! They have pursued, but have sustained heavy casualties. Shall I send for reinforcements?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes...\" I nod, \"Wait, I thought we only had 30 divisions?\"\n\n\"No, sir,\" the soldier stands at attention, \"General Milton has commissioned 2 more divisions to help in cleansing the Old Regime scum!\"\n\n\"And what are these two composed of?\" I remember that most war-ready males were already in service, injured, or dead.\n\nThe soldier shifts uncomfortably and looks away.\n\n\"Youths, eager to fight for our cause!\"\n\n\"So child soldiers?\"\n\n\"Well, er...\"\n\n\"Answer me.\"\n\nHe gulped.\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n" ]	12
	[WP] Write a story where the first and last sentences are both "I threw it on the ground"	[ "I threw it on the ground. My anger consumed me and took over. Before I knew what had happened it was shattered in more pieces than I would ever care to count. Immediately my anger subsides in the realization of what I’ve done. Her ashes are scattered across the floor among the ruin of the vase that held them. I walk calmly to the broom in the corner of the room. \n\n\n\nSometimes I wish I could go back to when she was larger than the pile of ashes on my living room floor. I wish I could go back and tell her how I feel, show her how I feel. If for nothing else besides my own form of social justice I would inform her just what type of person she was. \n\n\n\nSince her death I’ve finally felt comfortable enough to open up to my psychiatrist about all of the things she’s done to me over the years. He advises me that tackling a mother’s abuse is a problem that more people experience than I probably imagined. I feel like that’s a crock of shit, but then again I understand why other men wouldn’t ever want to talk about it. Who wants to be known as a man being abused by an older woman? People tend to find abuse hard to believe when the one being abused is physically stronger. People are dumb and don’t understand how complicated it can be.\n\n\n\nNothing would make me feel better than to throw her down, to show her how painful not only the physical violence, but the feeling of betrayal can be. In a way, I just did. Unfortunately, she won’t ever feel my retaliation. For a moment I wish, with all my heart, that there was an afterlife. I wish that she could see exactly what I’m doing. Despite my father’s wishes, I want no honor for her in death. \n\n\n\nForever I will struggle with opening up to people because of her. I don’t remember when I became aware that I was being abused. I do remember though, that after I did, I realized how much ammunition I had given her. I confided my deepest felt secrets and insecurities to her. At the time it felt like she was simply sweeping them under the rug, pretending like they weren’t important, even belittling them. Only later did I come to find that she wasn’t trying to ignore them, but waiting to use them at the right moments. \n\n\n\nPicking up the vase felt like my final confession to her, that she was integral in who I became. My last act for her is to become her for one just one moment. I will sweep everything about her under the rug. She will be remembered only as the dust that now dirties the living room floor. I glanced at the broom in the corner of the room and made my decision. \n \n\n\nI threw it on the ground.\n", "I threw it in the ground, it was too heavy for me to carry. \nMemories of what happened on that day came back rushing to me as I told my story. \nMy day started off as usual, drove to work and had a cup of coffee in the morning. I remember greeting my receptionist with a smile, and she responded in a similar manner. We exchanged formalities, and I headed off to my office ready to start my job. \nIt was a regular room, littered with some books and a big comfortable red chair. My desk was made from maple wood, and a plaque can be seen from the top right. \nWords that say \"A promise to help in pursuing a better life\" are burned into the gold plating. \nI take pride in what I do, and I consider it to be one of the most satisfying jobs that anyone can pursue. \nFiles and folders fill my desk in a nice stack , I picked up the blue coloured file at the top of the stack with my left hand while twirling a pen on my right. My bright green eyes scanned through the contents of the page, as my mind absorbed the information. It was a young woman, who was 24 years old. She suffered from social anxiety, and an extreme case of depression. \n'Business as usual..' I thought to myself as I heard the telephone ring beside me. \nI placed the pen I held neatly on the table, as I reached for the telephone. \n\"Mr. Smith, your next appointment is here to speak with you..\" said the receptionist. \n\"Go ahead and let her in,\" I paused my sentence in thought and continued \"Can you bring in some tea as well?, it might help her feel a bit more comfortable\". \n\"Yes sir\" I ended the call and placed the telephone back in the receiver \nAt 12:00 pm, my patient arrived. She looked disgruntled, and tired. Dark bags are apparent under her bright blue eyes, and she was a bit dishevelled.\n\"Hello Miss Sarah, please have a seat\" I greeted with a kind smile. \nSarah nodded and headed towards the red chair. \nShe crashed at the chair beside my table, and stared blankly at the ceiling above her. \nMy receptionist entered the room with two tea cups, a tea pot, and a plate full of biscuits. She placed one of the tea cups at the side table near the Sarah, and another in front of me. \nI thanked her, and as she exited the room the session began. \n\nIt didn't take long before she began spurting all of the problems that she had. Her eyes were glassy, and she stuttered as she spoke. \nAs her voice trembled, I jotted down everything that I could take note of. \nFrom the way that she spoke, the way she moved and even acted. \nHer rapid eye movements, and her reluctance to drink the tea that was offered. \n\nI reassured her that there was nothing wrong with it, and that she can help herself with as much as she can. \n\nAlthough a bit hesitant, she eventually took a sip and relaxed a bit more. \nShe calmed down, and began to sob quietly at the chair. \n\n\"I-I..just don't know what to do anymore, after that terrible traumatic experience..I just want to..d-disappear and fade...\" She continued to cry pathetically, \"My family resents me, my boyfriend calls me a slut..I-I just don't know where to go Mr. Smith..\". \n\nI patted her back, and offered her the plate of biscuits \"Shh..shh..it will be alright. Just breathe in and out.. eat some of these biscuits. You look extremely pale, and you are far too skinny. You need to take better care of yourself. \n\nShe reached for some and tears poured down her cheek as crumbs stuck at the corner of her mouth. \n\n\"You will be alright...Don't worry, all the pain will be gone soon..\", I said with a small smile on my face.\n\n\nBusiness as usual, it was all as I had planned, she fell asleep. \n.\n.\n.\nIt was a bit bloody, but I was used to it. It was my job after all, and a diligent worker never leaves a dirty mess. I began cleaning the remains of the gore and blood left from the job.\n.\n.\n.\nI grinned widely, that wretched smile plastered upon my face as I stared at that her body. I dressed her in a pretty white dress, with beautiful carnations placed upon her head in a form of a flower crown. \n.\n.\n.\n\nI lifted her into my arms, and walked off to the very backdoor of the office. It was night time, and not a lot of people are around anymore. \n.\n.\n.\nAgent Benjamin Williams stared at Victor Smith across from the table. The suspect for both the kidnapping, and murder of Sarah green. She was a hospital nurse who worked at Angels Ward Psychiatric hospital. Sarah was reported to be missing by her frantic boyfriend and worried family. He explained that one night, Sarah disappeared and left a note apologizing for all of her faults. She had always been anxious, and was extremely suicidal the last time he spoke to her. After a disagreement, her boyfriend left for the night out of frustration. \nThe police had connected the case of Sarah Green along with the string of mysterious disappearances and murders of similar persons. \n\nWith his arms folded in front of him, Benjamin stared directly at Smith. \n\"What did you do with the body of Sarah Green after you committed the murder?\" \n\nSmith replied with the same smile he always had on his face. Content, and said proudly. \n\n\"I threw it on the ground, it was too heavy for me to carry\" " ]	2
Happened in my dream...	[WP] Your friend passes, but he/she remains alive in technology, so you can still text/call them, but never meet them in person	[ "I'm looking down at the contacts list of my phone, clearing out some old ones that I don't need anymore. Then I see her name.\n\nKate. Her contact picture shines on my screen, and my thumb hovers above her phone number. Why should I even try to call the number? It's been almost a year. Her family must've canceled her line by now, right? \n\nWorst case scenario, a stranger picks up. It's only seven at night, not like I'd be interrupting their sleep...\n\nI click her number and the phone starts hum, indicating that it's making the call. My eyes close and I bite my bottom lip as I slowly move the phone to my ear.\n\n\"Hi, this is Kate! I can't come to the phone right now, please leave a message. Have a great day!\" Her bubbly voice echoes in my ear, like all the memories that had been replaying in my head. My arm starts to shake as I stammer out my message.\n\n\"Hey... Kate... I miss you. How are things? Wish you were here, but you probably do too... uh... bye... call me b-b-back...\" I hit the \"End Call\" button and my phone drops to the ground. I can still call and text her, but I can't get a reply.", "\"Larry, what dyou mean? You're freaking me out.\" I responded. \n\nI closed my phone and held it tightly with anticipation. I knew something would happen. Larry was always the type of guy who'd take unnecessary risks. This made him a wonderfully exciting person to be around. Now... now things are a little bit more difficult. I mean, how d'you respond to the text: \"I died today.\" I heard the familiar rooster call, the cheesy tone we decided on specifically for each other's messages. I quickly turned over the phone.\n\n\"I downloaded this app to be wired to my heart rate, allows me to live on this way... I guess I was too drunk lol.\" \n\nMy face clinched. \"Not funny.\" I shot back. I immediately got a response. \n\n\"Sorry... Trying to make light of a bad situation.\" Yup... definitely him. Larry never knew when to turn off the humor. It led to a lot of fights when he was... alive? Is he still?\n\n“So... whats it like?” \n\n“Can’t complain. I miss you though, Janet.” I felt my face clench. My breathing got heavier. I had to center myself. Had to be the type of person to keep control.\n\n“I miss you too.” \n\n“Yeah... Not as much as burritos though.” I laughed. That was how we met, in a Taqueria. I had been sitting with my friend Ellen enjoying some tacos when this guy came up to us. He was shorter, a bit on the chubbier side, but not anything unattractive. He told me how beautiful I looked and I rolled my eyes, then he made some stupid joke... I don’t know why I kept talking to him, maybe it was that level of confidence. The fact that he knew the joke was stupid but he went through it with a smile on his face. I gave him my number, then I ended up going on a date with him. Then he died. I wiped my eyes and started texting him.\n\n“So... can we still...” \n\n“Of course.” \n\nI smiled.\n\n(debating expanding)", "This morning, I died at exactly 10:47 am. I felt my heart stop. I felt my lungs give up, and I felt the pain of my loved ones as I left. I thought death would be different. I thought there would be heaven or hell or something more than just floating and drifting in this black space. I don't know what this is, but it feels nice. It feels like I'm laying on a bed, with a soft pillow against my face,and a blanket wrapped warmly around my body. Ring. What was that? Ring. Ring. I twist, and turn. It was just a dream. I pick up my phone. \"Hey, Alex\", I say. \"Hey, I'm dead\", he replied. I sit up. \"Huh, how? How are you?\", I asked. \"I'm just floating. Don't expect much from death\" Click. I began to cry. He's de-ad. I grab my phone, and begin typing. \"That's it. You don't even want to talk or explain or anything?\" Send. \"0000111 the number you are trying to reach is disconnected\",the screen reads. Well..fuck.", "The droid's gilded humanoid carapace gleamed in the waning light of the desert suns. He walked these quiet cliffs daily, as he had with his master in years past, his pace occasionally stuttered by the several decades of grit built up around his servos. In years past, the sentient scavengers of this planet would have gone to great lengths to acquire a droid of his quality -- in fact, it was from these diminutive nomads that his master's uncle had first come to possess him. He assumed it was simple superstition that kept them away now, enabling his walks to bring him the closest approximation of peaceful enjoyment his programming allowed.\n\nAs the twin suns began to inch over the horizon, the old droid turned back toward the sun-bleached hovel in the center of the mesa. He didn't like being outside at night. His optic sensors simply weren't sensitive enough for him to navigate in the dark anymore. \n\nAs he passed under the arch into the shelter, a low hooting and whistling came from the second stout, cylindrical droid in the corner, functional, but long rendered immobile. \"Well, I suppose we could,\" the golden droid responded. \"After all, it has been nearly a year.\" The responding electronic \"whoo-hoo\" held a much happier tone.\n\nThe humanoid droid motioned toward the iridescent pyramid shaped object sat upon a pedestal opposite his counterpart. When he touched the top of it, a small, glowing hologram of a hooded figure appeared before him. It smiled warmly and opened its arms to the droid. \n\n\"Hello, Threepio.\"\n\n\"It is a pleasure to see you, Master Luke,\" C-3PO responded.", "\"come find me\" was all I received from Alexx three weeks later. I initially dismissed it as a mean-spirited prank and ignored it, but the next day another one appeared, reading the same: \"come find me\" then \"r u there?\"\n\n\"who is this?\" I texted back, slightly annoyed. Whoever this was was trying really hard to get a rise out of me, but this was a whole new low. I mean, who steals a girl's phone and pretends to be her just for the attention? My mind spun up a list of names of people it could potentially be on the other end: Ryan Thorne, that jackass from Sociology. Bruce Polan, arrogant prick of a jock. Maybe Alisa, Alexx's bestie; she used to always start rumors that I was gay just to keep Alexx from hooking up with me. What a cunt...\n\n\"duh its alexx. y ru being wierd lol?\"\n\nI scowled. \"sure it is. get a life.\"\n\n\"r u srs??? its rly me. we used 2 smoke togther behiind teh chem lab\" I froze and dropped my phone in shock. What the FUCK? Behind the Chemistry lab was where Alexx and I used to get high, just the two of us. No one should have known about that since both our parents were very anti-drug. I was so overwhelmed I barely heard the buzz of my phone vibrating as another text came in. Between the cracks in the glass screen I could read: \"ya and i remembr u said u wanted 2 tel me sumthng???\" I nearly passed out right there; three weeks ago while Alexx and I were alone behind the Chem lab I had wanted to tell her something that had been on my mind for months, but the subject was forgotten when a campus police officer discovered us smoking and we had to bolt. That was the last time I had seen her.\n\nAlexx had committed suicide that night. Everyone had blamed it on her over-protective parents, who had berated her for her drug use and her growing rebellious nature, even though they knew about her depression. Her final act of freedom before the cage closed around her was to take a bath and get clean, cutting her wrists and letting her life drain away with her bath water. She was found in her apartment's tub the next day, paler than porcelain, her cellphone sitting inches away from her out-stretched hand.\n\nAnd now I was still receiving texts from her. My mind raced to find an explanation for this, but it came up empty every time. While I was hesitating, another text came in: \"but dont tell me now\" then \"come find me\" \"i wnt u 2 tell me face 2 face\" \n\n\"where?\" \n\n\"im @ my aptment\" \"im waiting 4 u\"\n\n======================================\n\nMy hands shook as I climbed the stairs to the now-vacated apartment, my mind still trying to make sense of everything that had happened. Even as much as I couldn't believe it was happening, the texts still came flooding in every few minutes. come find me. come find me. come find me. I felt drawn to her apartment. Call it wanting closure; whatever it was, it compelled me to tear away the yellow police tape obstructing the doorway and pick the lock open.\n\n\"come find me\"\n\nI pushed the apartment door open. Nothing but grey dust and impressions in the carpet where there once was furniture. I flicked the light switch a few times, to no avail. Nothing; the power must have already been disconnected. Aimless, I walked to the bedroom door and had only pressed my palm against it when:\n\n\"not there. so cold lol ice cold. come find me\"\n\nI paced to the kitchen. \"warmr warmer. not ther ether. come find me\"\n\nMy blood froze with realization. No. Not there. Every fiber of my being said that this was all wrong, that this shouldn't be, that this cannot be, that I did not want to open that door, but the phone vibrating violently in my pocket with incoming texts led me forth all the same. \n\nI walked to the bathroom door. \"come find me\"\n\nI turned the doorknob. \"come find me\"\n\nI opened the door. \"come find me\"\n\nA foul odor overwhelmed me instantly, making me retch and convulse. The room was dimly illuminated by a cellphone I recognized as Alexx's. I ran to pick it up, wanting to turn its light on the bathtub, to know, to understand, but its battery was almost depleted. 1%. On its screen, just before the phone shut off, I read the words typed out in the text box: \n\n\"i found u\"\n\nAnd then the room filled with darkness.\n\n======================================\n\nLike I said before, maybe my brain just wanted closure and imagined everything just so I could finally tell her how I felt. Maybe I just needed to know that it was over, that she wasn't coming back, so I could let go and stop carrying around those leftover feelings. Or maybe everything I've told you really did happen. Maybe I'm finally happy to be with Alexx again. If you really want to know for sure, then...\n\n\"come find me.\"", "I manage to answer the phone again, this time I know I have to say goodbye. I say this every time, in my usual montly routine of trying to let go of the best friend I had for 10 years. I send her pictures, but I know that her daughter looks so beautiful in person, and the pictures never do her justice. I love Mariana, I do. She has become my daughter, too. But I feel sick thinking that if she hadn't been born that my best friend would still be alive. I end feeling trapped in this paradox of her holding the daughter that wouldn't exist if she could hold her in the first place. \n\nThe phone is silent on the other end, as if she waits for me to finish thinking, knowing how I truly feel, but holding a knowledge I do not possess of why things happen the way that they do. Why doesn't she just tell me?! Why can't she teach me how to let go, to know that our friendship is okay and that I don't have to answer the phone?? \n\n\"Hey.\" Her voice instantly brings tears to my eyes and heat to my skin.\n\n\"You know I hate this.\" I am so bitter to her. It was me who was going to leave her. I was supposed to drive into that goddamned pole and end my life. But how could I? How can I taste death when I have an angel who calls regularly like a doctor's appointment, reminding me to care for her child, that I have to keep on living? \n\n\"I know, but I'm dead so I kinda have you beat.\" Of course. Her humor makes me want to wallow in my grief. Of course I miss her, and I answer the phone because I have to, but also because I want to.\n\n\"She plays the violin beautifully, just like you used to.\"\n\n\"I still play it. Post-death is kinda cool when you didn't fuck up life too badly. By the way, you were right, Gandhi made it to heaven too, even though he didn't believe in this Christian god.\"\n\n\"Nicee. When is my time to join you?\"\n\n\"Shutup, I'm not God, I can't just spoil it for you.\"\n\n\"Life sucks without my best friend.\"\n\n\"Death sucks without mine. What are you though, a recluse? It's been 5 years, go find a freaking friend.\" I sigh, knowing that I have been to every function with every friend and coworker looking for that spark of friendship that came with knowing my kindred spirit. \"Hey listen, you know I gotta go. This tether can only last for so long. But promise me you will just stick around on earth a little longer. I gotta get you the VIP pass anyways so you can skip the Pearly Gates.\"\n\n\"I'm not answering the phone anymore. This is the last time.\"\n\n\"Yeah whatever, loser, talk to you soon.\"\n\n~~~~\n\nThe phone rings again. I answer it.", "\"Hey what are you doing?\" his voice raspy and weirdly digitized rang in my ear. \n\n\"oh god, not him again.\" I whispered silently to myself. \"Dude, you're dead. I told you this a million times. Just stop calling me. I need to grieve over your death or whatever.\"\n\n\"No dude. Fuck that. You're going to listen to me I happen to th-\" I didn't let him finish. I ended the call and tossed my phone on the bed. Who does he think he is? He is my best friend, but god, he can be so annoying. I liked him better when he was dead and uncommunicative. \n I sat at my desk and put my hands on my face in frustration. When will these phone calls ever end? The phone began to ring with that all too familiar ringtone I had set for Tim. Snoop Dogg's vocals would be coming on soon. I sighed, and answered the call. \"Will you Stop Fucking call-\" but the voice on the other end over powered mine.\n\n\"No, you listen motherfucker, I had a life. ok!? You hearing me? I had a good college I was attending, a hot girlfriend I was fucking, and I had a ton of fucking great things going for me. So you're going to hear my fucking voice every single fucking day of the rest of your shitty life. I tried to STOP YOU from driving and sitting in that car with you was NOT MY MOTHERFUCKING CHOICE. So because of you're actions, I'm a disembodied voice on a fucking iPhone, while you are a dickless asshole who killed me, so YOU WILL LISTEN to what I have to say!\"\n\nI couldn't take it anymore. I smashed my phone on the ground, and tossed myself on the bed, wet hot sticky tears pouring down my face. he was right. I knew it, he knew it, and there was nothing I could do about it. He was going to guilt me for the rest of my life. I reached under the pillow, and pulled out that cold steal medicine, cocked it, and gave myself a dose of pain medication. Bang. Lights out.", "She died two years ago today, in a car crash with her new boyfriend. What's weird is I didn't feel anything. I told my friend that she deserved it for getting with that fat fuck behind the wheel. I told myself I'd take her somewhere nice next time, before her boyfriend gets out of the hospital.\n\nI guess I never came to terms with it, never accepted it. For the longest time I thought that it was a lie. When our mutual friend called me, I was working away. I was woke up early by the news, and would not be convinced for another three weeks.\n\nSo here we are. She's still here. I see her every day, only she doesn't upload photos any more. I used to enjoy reading her statuses; her witty observations would usually merit a response in my facial muscles - upturned corners of my mouth, a squint of my eyes.\n\nNobody really talks to her any more, except on her birthday and Christmas. I still talk, though; I still wait for the banner on my phone to tell me she's still okay.\n\n^(Based on a true story)", "\"Oh God, I'm so sorry Tabby.\" \n\"What for?\" \n\"I just want to hold you,\" types Steven as he sobs uncontrollably. \n\"You have to move on and live your life. It's almost time.\" \n\"I... can't ever imagine myself moving on. We were robbed of our future together. Why can't you see that? Why aren't you angry?!\" \n\"I can't feel like before. It's almost been a year. The Department of Aided Grief will soon shut off my memory.\" \nSteven cradles his cellphone and once again imagines falling asleep with her in his arms. She was gone. \"I love you Tabby,\" he whispers to the empty room, \"always.\" ", ">Me: Hey.\n\n>Dan: Hey you. How are you doing?\n\n>Me: Not so hot. Jesse broke up with me.\n\n>Dan: Aw, sweetie. I'm so sorry. Why?\n\n>Me: He said we \"just didn't fit.\"\n\n>Me: I thought we fit perfectly.\n\n>Dan: Sometimes what seems perfect turns out to be wrong. How many times did you tell me that?\n\n>Me: I know. But it hurts.\n\n>Dan: I know it hurts, sweetie. Just fall back on my sovereign remedy.\n\n>Me: Toffifay and Drag Race?\n\n>Dan: And ice cream. You can't be properly fierce without ice cream.\n\n>Me: I miss him.\n\n>Dan: I know you do, sweetie. But you'll be fine.\n\n>Me: I miss you too, Danface.\n\n>Dan: I'm right here.\n\n>Me: I know, but...\n\n>Me: I need a hug.\n\n>^^Seen, ^^1:38 ^^a.m.\n\nRest in peace, Dan. You were, and always will be, my very best friend.", "JOE:\nMy phone rings once more and I stare at the caller ID, 'Alexis.' Every night at 2am I sit at the kitchen table and I deliberate over whether to answer or deny the call. I stare at the image of Alexis, her brunette locks surrounding her pale face, paused in time at the age of 18. Not for the first time, I look up at the mirror hanging on the wall and trace the creases of the past 20 years upon my face. I tell myself each one represents a specific moment of laughter, or pain, representative of the memories I'd comprised over the last two decades. Secretly, though I'd never admit it aloud, I'm grateful she never got to see me this way. In her mind and through our phone calls I would remain the same teenage boy with whom she fell in love. In some ways this was better. \nI answer the call. I silently vow that this will be the last time, that tomorrow I move on and remain faithful to my wife, Cassandra, upstairs sleeping in our bed. It isn't that I don't love Cassandra, I do, but there is no doubt in my mind that had Alexis' accident not happened, it would have been our children asleep upstairs instead.The gentle tone of her voice draws me back each night. The way she says my name, with pride and longing and love, lures me in once more. It's been difficult finding topics we can discuss together, her lack of future, my future in which someone else has taken her place are skirted around. Our conversations are brief but each night we trade the phrase 'I love you' and I crawl back into bed next to my wife, riddled with equal amounts of pleasure and guilt. \n\n**\n\nCassandra:\nI heard him crawl back into bed with me last night and not for the first time. He thinks I don't know, that I haven't noticed him calling her, texting her. He's so sentimental he can't even bring himself to delete their text messages, he just changed her name but I figured it out. I know I shouldn't have gone through his phone or read them but I needed to do something, to try and protect my family. I put her number in my phone and I call her...a girl with a southern accents answers and she already knows my name.She accuses me of stealing her life, her future and I don't understand what is going on. She's the one who has been having an affair with my husband and she has the audacity to accuse me of ruining her life. I'm crying through the confusion, trying to make sense of things, and then I hear her laugh, enjoying my suffering before asking, \"Don't you know who I am? I'm Alexis.\" I slam the phone down, scared and confused. He's told me all about her, how they were together, but she drowned in an accident. I tell myself it's some kind of twisted joke and get in the car to meet Joe at work where I can confront him. I need answers, an explanation, nothing makes sense anymore. Every few seconds my phone beeps, another text from Alexis. I see traffic lights a few hundred yards up ahead, and briefly look back at my phone. She's telling me things about her past with Joe, telling me how they still love each other and...\n\n*\n\nJoe:\nI hold her belongings in my arms and bring them closer to my chest. Everything smells of her perfume and I inhale deeply. Paramedics tried everything they could but they were too late. She'd failed to pause at the lights and an oncoming car slammed into the side of her. I didn't understand, she was...I choke on the past tense...the most cautious driver. Her phone has been incesantly beeping since I returned home and I assumed it was just work continuing to try and establish why she hadn't made it in this afternoon. In an effort to cease the tone, I go to hit the off switch, but before I do, I see the messages are all from an unknown number and I read on. Even in print I know that voice anywhere. I can hear it but this time it isn't received with warmth like normal, it chills me and I throw the phone across the room. It was her. Cassandra knew. Alexis caused the crash, distracted her, the times matched. \n\nI pick up my own phone and dial Cassandra, praying that the same unknown discrepency will allow me to stay in touch with my wife after her death. Her phone rings and rings across the other side of the room but I am met with the stone-cold silence of her voicemail. I look back at my phone, scrolling through my contacts and without hesitation I delete my only connection with Alexis from my phone, blocking the number too. This time when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I see only guilt. I cheated on my wife with my dead girlfriend for our entire marriage and it caused her death. Alive, my wife was never enough to make me let go of Alexis, but in death, I know she is the only one I ever loved. I can see that now. I just wish I could tell her...\n", "\"So, you dead now?\" I typed to my dear friend who had recently passed.\n\n \"Yeah, it was exactly like the books said it was like, it hurt a tonne, and the morphine was not helping, but it all went away. The pain, the sadness, the happiness, the feeling.\" He typed, clearly taking his time when writing about his own death. \n\n\"Collapsed lung, spinal damage and heavy burning, IIRC\" I typed, forgetting to be slightly more formal than that. \"\n\n\"Ha, IIRC eh? I suppose I should get used to these kinds of abbreviations now eh? Now that I'm dead, but hurrah for technology. We even have these handy autocorrects to help us with our poor English now\" He jibed back at me\n\n\"Eh, that helps with spelling and basic grammar, but it is no substitute for good English\"\n\n\"That reminds me, can we even learn when we are dead? If we could chat we could definitely use the Internet, we could do whatever we want\"\n\n\"I supose you could, but most people get tired of it, they go to sleep, and they never answer anymore.\"\n\n\"Now that you mention it, I do feel quite tired. I might want to take a nap now\"\n\n\"So soon? You just got here, but I suppose even if people could talk while dead, not many feel the need to.\"\n\n\"Yawns* Yeah, it does not feel very necessary to talk anymore, but you. You were here with me, the whole time\"\n\n\"We are best buddies, don't let minor things like death break that\"\n\n\"Heh, sorry about the car crash\"\n\n\"Eh, at least I died instantly\"\n" ]	12
	[WP] You are the worst mascot ever. You are stuck in the suit.	[ "The last thing Frank ever wanted to be was one of the dudes in a mascot suit at basketball games. Instead, he wound up one of the dudes in a mascot suit at hockey games.\n\nBut fuck hockey, and fuck hockey fans. Week one he got in a fistfight with a fan who poured beer through his eye holes. Knocked the guy down three rows of bleachers. Sent some other folks flying like bowling pins, unfortunately, which at the end of the day was what his boss was unhappy about.\n\nBut hey, he got a second chance. This was America, capital \"A\" America, and the American dream said you could work your way up from wearing a giant Fightin' Raccoon suit to reeling in the cash as an investment banker. \n\nWeek two, he was handing out free T-Shirts when another drunk fan gave him a big shove. He tumbled down the stairs, sprained his wrist, and found himself upside down, his stupid overstuffed tail propping him up.\n\nCool it, Frank, he thought to himself, but then he saw the guy laughing, a belly laugh, just a good old guffaw, and before he knew it he was marching up those steps, sprained wrist or no sprained wrist.", "Can't breathe. I'm stuck inside this suit. It'll be fun, they said, you'll earn some cash. I've been in here 10 minutes and the zip is stuck. I need to pee and chuck simultaneously. It feels like I'm going to boil to death in this nasty, polyester costume with a tiny gauze strip for my eyes and mouth. I'm breathing in moist air. I'm trying not to hyperventilate. 3 hours to go. I'm lead out into the sunlight and I can barely see in front of me. Something is forced into my hands. I let out a sob. I don't want to do this. I try and rip the costume open but it doesn't work. I'm yelling but my words are muffled. I try to run away. Fall over. Bang my knee on something. People are laughing at my pain. Tears are streaming. I can hear photos being taken. I'm helped up. I go back to the store. I'm fired. Who wants to hire a giant hot dog?" ]	2
Inspired by this New Yorker cartoon: http://www.newyorker.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/gauld-four-undramatic-plot-structures-1200.jpg Select one of the below prompts, and make it interesting somehow: * The Hero is confronted by an antagonistic force and ignores it until it goes away. * The Protagonist is accused of wrongdoing, but it's not a big thing and soon gets sorted out. * The Heroine is faced with a problem but it's really, really difficult so she gives up. * A Man wants something. Later, he's not so sure. By suppertime he's forgotten all about it.	[WP] The Four Undramatic Plot Structures - choose one! (details in comments)	[ "\nAt that point the Masked Things In The Dark had taken him, his soul wrenched from where it should be, and taken to a place where it should not. The Things In The Darkness had tortured him for what seemed like a dozen eternites., they had entered his mind, and torn him apart from the inside with his deepest fears and desires. They taunted him with reimagining of all caliber of the deaths of his loved ones, sometimes by Eric, but it was hardly unusual for something far worse; far worse than even physically possible, but here in this realm of torture the rules of time and death apparently didn’t apply. But after years of pain, the toy of the Things In The Dark, had broken. \n\n Eric Carver sat in his dark realm. The world melted into existence. The Things wanted to play again. The victim this time was of his mother, who had killed herself to pay for her son’s education. Funny, Carver thought, I had forgotten about that. Carver continued to sit. The image melted away into the scene of his wife’s stillbirth. The image of his sister-in-law begged him to help her, and she had yelled at him for being so selfish, and pleaded for him to help his wife. Carver continued to sit. There were sounds of discomfort from the Things In The Dark, not the expected laughter. The scenes changed, each one devolving into things more horrific, things that had once made Carver beg for them to stop, tears welling in his eyes. Carver continued to sit. \n\nThe beasts grew angry quickly. The Things In The Dark no longer held their masquerades of reality, they had devoured him, ripped him limb from limb, eviscerated and hung him. but Carver no long screamed. He no longer cried. He no longer pleaded for forgiveness from what he believed to be hell. They had decided. They would do the unspeakable. \n\nCarver sat, and the world around him reshaped and encircling him were clouds of a tenebrous flesh, four masks leading the bands of it like heads. One of them had stopped in front of Carver and he glanced up at it indifferently. The Thing’s equivalent of a hand had slowly moved towards its mask, grasped it, and removed it. Carver then saw what lied behind the laughing mask. The face of a mad god, the face of a thing that only by analogy be given real words. And yet, Carver continued to sit. There was a booming scream and a wrenching of a soul, being torn from the place where it should not be, back to where it should. They had given up on their toy and he was returned to reality.\n", "\"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, IGNORE IT?!\" The general bellowed.\nTheir last hope yawned and stretched. He sat on his chair.\n\n\"Our kingdom is under attack! Our palace is being overrun! You're our last hope against the wretched night creatures, son of the light, carrier of the blade 'Smite', begifted with the powers of sunlight and YOU WANT TO IGNORE THE THREAT?\"\n\n\"Yes, that's kind of my plan.\"\n\n\"As we speak NOW, they are standing outside the walls!\"\n\n\"Have you considered, I don't know, to just light fires and camp there until it's all over? Sun's going up soon. They will have to retreat. The dark sorcerer Bewars can't keep up such an army forever.\"\n\nThe general glared at him. He obviously thought he had gone mad. A heat stroke, perhaps? Heh.\n\n\"Of course we know they cannot stand fire. That's why all archers have been equipped with fire arrows. Our knights have replaced their swords with TORCHES! Their numbers however number in the milions!\"\n\n\"Exactly. Millions. What's the point of me going down there and slaughtering five legions if they have another hundredninety?\"\n\n\"Do you have a better idea?\" he asked with a red face.\n\n\"Simple,\" I said. \"Try camping. Camp with fire, camp like a noob.\"", "It's half past six and the setting sun casts my shadow across the office like a finger puppeteer's fist raised in defiance. The vivid orange light filters through the grimy windows behind me highlighting the last pale traces of smoke that rise from my dying cigarette.\n\nMy old partner's desk is still covered with dust, a grey version of what school children dream of every winter's night before school. No one's touched that desk in over a year. The short version of the story is there was a man who lived in a city, and in that city there was a box job gone wrong. And that box job came with a case of lead poisoning that left a widow and two children. And an empty desk that no one's got time to dust when there's been a murder in the city.\n\nI drop the blinds behind me and let the darkness fill the room. The shade over my door is backlit by the hall, ready for the next tragedy to traipse into my life and take the stage. I don’t know if I’m ready for it but she’s ready for me. I can tell from the shadow on my door that she was trouble.\n\nI don’t know if this ankle can tell, but I watch the shadow tidy her hair and fix her hat just so. Every line is in place and every curve is just as dangerous to me as it was to James Dean. Then like reindeer on the rooftop come the knock I was dreading.\n\n“Sir, are you in? I need your help.”\n\nI can’t do it. Not today of all days. I sit, still as the dead and quiet as a church-mouse. \n\n“Please. I’m in trouble and I need someone to help me.”\n\nNope, not my problem. She’ll leave. knock knock knock She’s doing her best impression of a boxer stretching above their weight class against my door. I panic and duck under the desk, just in time too, the shade surrenders and snaps up clearing the window to the hall. She stops, I’m sure she’s surveying the room looking for a sleuth before she gets kicked to the skids. The twist sobs outside the door before turning tail and walking away. \n\nThat’s the end of my day. I check the magnums in my desk. There’s two of them in there. The first one’s been empty since I went bent and shot my partner. The other’s a bottle and it’s kept me loaded since. I’m Tracer Bullet. I used to be a professional snoop.", "Early June sun bathed the soft grass of the Meadow Lakes apartment complex in pleasant, golden light. It reflected off the pond in glittering flashes and warmed the clean sidewalk that curved about the buildings. Every so often, a runner clad in bright clothing left the complex to take advantage of the beautiful morning. A few chattering kids played on the swings in the adjacent field.\n\nMark Thomas's living room in apartment 110, however, was completely black save for the glow from the flatscreen TV mounted on the wall. He had replaced the unit's plastic blinds with ones made of thick, dark cloth and installed an expensive surround-sound system. American Sniper, which had just been released on iTunes, blared from the speakers. Mark had hit play on his Apple TV remote over an hour ago but was still completely focused. He was trying to take in every detail of Bradley Cooper's Oscar-nominated performance. \n\nMark desperately wanted to be an actor. Ever since he was a kid, images of himself performing daring feats danced in his head. He pictured himself as a character of great mental strength, taking courageous action to a backdrop of soaring orchestra music. He imagined making people laugh, cry, and find inspiration. He didn't even care so much about the money that would come with being famous, although it would be nice. \n\nEvery morning, he woke up and did one of two things: drove ten minutes down the road to manage The Broken Egg, one of his family's five restaurants, or plotted ways to break into show business. Sometimes he did Internet research, sometimes he bought books about acting on Amazon, sometimes he watched great actors like Bradley Cooper to pick up tips. The problem was that there weren't many opportunities in Findlay, Ohio, so Mark didn't have much to show for all his reading and observing. Maybe one day his parents would let him sell The Broken Egg and he could go back to school or move to LA or something like that. But for now, he'd decided, he was sort of SOL. \n\nAfter the movie ended, Mark took his cereal bowl to the kitchen and opened the blinds. Harsh light flooded in at the same time his cell phone started ringing, the volume turned all the way up. Mark nearly tripped over the ottoman in his confusion as he reached between the couch cushions for his phone. \"Hello?\" he said.\n\n\"Hey, man, what's up?\" It was his friend Jason, who served at The Broken Egg.\n\n\"Nothing, dude. What're you up to?\" Mark rubbed his eyes.\n\n\"I was gonna smoke and then maybe go to that new head shop on Crescent Boulevard. You wanna come check it out?\"\n\nMark thought about it for a second. He had a couple packages from Amazon just inside the front door waiting to be opened. \"...Sure, let me just take a quick shower and I'll come over,\" he eventually replied. Jason also lived at Meadow Lakes.\n\n\"Cool, man. Oh, and I just ordered way too much pizza if you want any when you get here.\" He sounded like he'd already smoked that morning.\n\n\"Cool. See ya.\" Mark hung up the phone and headed for the shower. He could start the books later, when he felt refreshed.\n\nSix hours later, Mark returned home with a new piece and a slight sunburn from hanging out in the park all afternoon. He knew he'd been meaning to do something when he got back, but couldn't remember at the moment. He flicked on the TV, ripped the clear plastic off a bag of popcorn, and placed it in the microwave. Mark wondered what good college football games were on tonight. He grabbed a cold soda to go with his snack and settled onto the couch for the evening.", "Sir Ethan the Brave was the mightiest champion of the Avrist people. If the concept of curriculum vitae existed in Avristila, his would include eight years training under King Mightsmash of the nearby friendly Ogre Kingdom, the successful defence of a small hamlet from a rogue necromancer, and three confirmed dragon kills. In what many consider to be his finest hour, he single-handedly defended against an incursion from a rogue faction from within the Ogre Kingdom, cutting down scores of opponents without rest. \n\nAnd after all of that, he was ready for a rest. He retired to a small property he won in an honourable duel (with a charming rogue that spent too much time with the Queen of Avristila for the King’s liking). He spent most of his days improving his leatherworking skills, fashioning ever more efficient scabbards and holsters for his various weapons. It was a quiet life.\n\nSo when a messenger from the nearby town approached his hermitage in the Avristila mountains, he was a little peeved. “Sir Ethan!” the messenger cried, “we need your assistance!”\n\n“What’s that?” Sir Ethan said, “you want me to kill some more ogres?” \n\n“Not kill, Sir Ethan,” the messenger insisted, “just scare them away! Your legend is more than enough of a deterrent!”\n\nSir Ethan shrugged. “There’s terribly little glory in that,” he said, “come get me when there’s a real problem to solve.”\n\nThe messenger walked back to the town, disgraced. Sir Ethan walked back to his workbench, having already forgotten what the messenger had asked. He was working on an enchanted scabbard, having acquired a hide of hydra leather. A local wizard had promised him that, were he able to stitch together the skin in just the right way, he would never run out of swords. “Draw one,” the wizard said, “and two will take its place!”\n\nHe was dubious.\n\nDays passed, and Sir Ethan worked without rest to construct his enchanted scabbard. The enchantment was working fine, but he was having a great deal of difficulty getting the draw angle correct. Too loose, and the sword would never stay in place (and probably not work for the purposes of sword duplication). Too tight, and he’d waste valuable seconds in an incorrect sword arc. \n\nA second messenger made the approach to Sir Ethan’s hermitage. “Sir Ethan!” he cried, “we need your assistance!”\n\nSir Ethan poked his head out, hands still clutching his leatherworking tools. “What is it this time?” he asked.\n“The ogres have grown in number, Sir Ethan, and their camps are approaching the borders of town!”\n\nSir Ethan rolled his eyes. “Are the ogres hurting anyone?” he called, “has anything gone missing? Any children kidnapped to have their bones ground into bread?”\n\nThe messenger hesitated. “No, Sir Ethan,” the messenger said, chagrined. \n\n“Then come back if they do!”\n\nThe messenger hung his head, and began to walk away. He stopped himself, and called back again. “Sir Ethan, the ogres claim that King Mightsmash has been deposed, and a mighty rebel army threatens to wash over the land!” \nSir Ethan poked his head out the window one last time. “Come and get me when we’re knee-deep in ogres, and I’ll kill them all for you!”\n\nThe messenger shook his head and walked away. \n\nSir Ethan toiled at his mighty enchanted scabbard for a few more days. He figured out the perfect angle for the mouth of his scabbard, and got it working with the enchantment. Standing in his practice yard, he threw sword after sword from his waist into an ogre-shaped target dummy. He quickly found himself overwhelmed by swords, but most of them found their way into the fake ogre. He smiled at his handiwork, and turned to walk inside.\n\n“Sir Ethan?” called a much deeper, slower voice. Sir Ethan started, and his hand reached for his scabbard. He turned around and found himself face-to-face with an eight-foot tall, foul-smelling, grey-skinned ogre. \n\n“Sir Ethan, I’m a representative from Ogreville, the town at the base of these hills,” his visitor said, and Sir Ethan’s hand fell from his scabbard.\n\nSir Ethan frowned. “I don’t recall a town named Ogreville,” he said, “I feel like I would have paid more attention to it.”\n\nThe ogre smiled. “We’re recent settlers, peaceful folk really. We just wanted to let you know that you don’t need to worry about the messages you’ve received over the last couple of days. The ogre problem is well in hand.”\n\nSir Ethan smiled. “Fantastic!” he said, “I was getting worried that the villagers had gone soft.”\n\nThe ogre’s smile grew wider. “I can’t speak for all of them, but I can say with certainty that at least six of them were very soft. Tender… hearted, too.”\n\nSir Ethan spat in the dirt. “Weaklings,” he said.\n\n“I quite agree,” the ogre replied, “I’m afraid I must be off, but while I’m here, would you be interested in coming to Ogreville for a dinner in your honour?”\n\nSir Ethan smiled. “It would be an honor!” he said.", "The phone started to vibrate for the 5th time in the last couple minutes. John bent over and turned it off. His ex was a bit of a psycho and wouldn’t stop calling him. Suddenly his inbox came alive with e-mails from her. Seriously, she just couldn’t get the message. He had broken up with her. She’d cheated on him and he wasn’t going to stay with a cheater. He got up as the door rang. He heard a saw starting outside, but he thought nothing of it. His neighbor was doing some renovations anyways.\n\n**\n\n“Come on,” she whispered frantically. “Come on, come on, come on.”\n\nAshley flopped back on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She was tired. In fact, she didn’t really think she should even bother trying to get ahold of him anymore. He didn’t want to hear the facts. She had even sent him a video of the whole thing, but apparently he refused to watch it.\n\nAfter a few minutes of stressing out over their relationship, an idea suddenly popped into her mind. She headed for the garage, knowing exactly what she needed to do.\n\n\n\nHe hadn’t talked to John since the incident. George tried to call him, but his phone was off. He didn’t like being accused of sleeping with his best friend’s girlfriend. It was just a kiss after all. His friend wouldn’t even let him explain.\n\n\n\nGarth was ready and motivated. He was finally going to get a job. He would no longer be the unemployable loser he had always been. He got up, took a shower, shaved, grabbed a newspaper, and started looking for a job. He gulped down some cereal as he circled a few jobs and prepared to get applications ready.\n\nAround lunch time Garth starts to get the applications started. But it feels like a bit too much work. Still, he’s tired of being unemployed. And then a brilliant idea comes into his mind.\n\n\n\n“John, listen to me, will you?” George said as the door opened, his best friend looking back at him. “It was all just for laughs and giggles at the party. Didn’t Ashley send you the video? You just walked in with incredibly bad timing.”\n\nHe watched as John grabbed his cell, turned it on, and watched the video.\n\n“My bad,” John said laughing, slapping George on the back. “Think Ashley is going to be pissed?”\n\n*\n\nGarth opened his front door and started dinner, surprised to find that he even had wine left. A day at the spa had sure done him good and cleared his mind. He couldn’t even remember what it was he had been so motivated to do this morning.\n\nSmall, feminine hands wrapped around him while he cooked in the nude.\n\n“Why do I find you so attractive?” Ashely asked him.\n\n“One, because I’m incredibly handsome,” Garth replied. “Two, because you’re a bit drunk. And three, because your boyfriend, exboyfriend, is an asshole.”\n\n“Yeah, sounds about right,” Ashley replied as her hands started to move down his body.\n\nI chose all 4.", "A wall of data. Sheer awe. Terror. Yvette looked out at the sphere of information that was Resnet’s security network. “Alright” she though, “I can do this”. She pulled off the headset, dark room greeting her. Got up. Coffee. Yvette sat back down, looked at the pile of dead software at her feet. One new one worth trying here, and she’d probably only get one shot at it. She had already geared up her deck to move fast, hourly Parisian microcondo paid for with cash, if she was detected she could be gone in a half hour. Deck was hot too, stolen from some hotshot jokey in London and smuggled through the Channel in carry on. In theory she was clean. On paper she was clean. Cost her two grand to verify there was no file on her.\n\nOne tape, freshly wound and unused. Custom virus, top-gun encryption unused. She’d probably get one use for sure, two if she was sloppy before antivirus adapted. One for sure if they were outsourcing time on an AI for security. She broke the seal and took it out of the blank paper case. Slotted it into the hot deck and pulled the visor back over her head, staring back at the encryption. Thumbed into the terminal and verified the software virus was live. She armed it, and took what countermeaures the hot deck had built in live.\n\nYvette thumbed the keyboard, too nervous to fire yet. She was new at this, couple months in, just another hot shit jokey after a name-recognition payday. Resnet was big, huge target. Big data. She moved her hands off the keyboard, palmed for the coffee and took a sip. She could probably do it. Even if the trace hit hard and fast she’d planned on bugging out fast if she had to. If it worked perfectly the breach wouldn’t be noticed and she’d be a legend. Net fame, big fish after her tapes. Fuck it. Do it.\n\nResnet’s security was noise; pure encryption hitting every possible angle of protection. She read the terminal as the virus hit, interaction quietly with the data. No reaction, good and bad. Nobody’d ever got through, so as far as she could tell the fact that her deck wasn’t hitting her with every possible alarm was a good sign. She waited, the script crunched. More coffee. The noise started to clear to a lesser variety of chaos. The script was working, the wall was going down. Progress was slow, but she wasn’t running out the door with a hot deck trying to find a place to sleep without a net footprint.\n\nThe virus broke through, the wall fading to blank. She was going to be a star, kind to have their screen name in the history books. Hopefully next to “unknown”. Her view was filled with black. She moved around, straining her neck to turn the rig around and get a better view. Black filled the space where the encryption had been, the net vibrant behind her. She keyed up the terminal and got a data feed to replace the visual. It was a neutron star of pure encryption, dense data beyond any possible metric. A firewall with no flaws. She pulled a snapshot from the feed and looked at it. Fuck this, this shouldn’t exist. Yvette lifted the goggles and looked at the deck. No, this wasn’t her league. This wasn’t anyone’s league. Resnet’s security system was flawless, what her code had broke through was a hollow shell of this thing. \n\nHit the power on the deck. Actually, make that the plug. All the cables. Fuck it, better run anyways. Yvette knew that kind of system shouldn’t exist, and there was a decent chance it knew she shouldn’t either. Even seeing it was dangerous. She’d trusted her code to get through the primary defence and she couldn’t help but feel that she’d been allowed to see what she saw; a glimpse at why nobody had ever beaten Resnet’s security. The source of the rumours that they couldn’t be cracked. She couldn’t be the first person to see it. Still. Better off leaving no footprint, not trusting the barrier she got through. More than one would-be hacker had simply vanished from the net, hopefully just arrested. Yvette somehow doubted that.\n\nShe folded up the deck, packed her bag quickly, and as calmly as she could walked out into the Parisian night.", "The world had become a dangerous place since Supra-Girl had been frozen in ice by Dr. Ignatius Drax. Without her and her amazing supra powers, Drax's \"reign of terror\" had gone on unchecked for the past 50 years. Giant syphilitic ants, robot tidal waves, and something-something lasers. Standard supra-villain evil stuff. \n\nBut, as it turned out, all of his schemes were pretty ineffectual and never really needed Supra Girl's intervention in the first place. In addition to being supra-sized, the giant ants had gained self-awareness which saddled them with debilitating feelings of shame and self-loathing… over what ended up being a very treatable STD. The robot tidal wave just didn't make any sense to anyone. And 4 Chan ended up hacking the laser and burning a picture of Dick-Butt onto the moon.\n\nAfter about 20 years of the surpa-villain nonsense, Drax went straight and started a multi-national conglomerate focusing on plastics and plastic-like polymers, industrial scale injection molding, and micro-electronics. Ironically enough, this turned out to be his most evil plot of all. Despite employing almost half a million people world-wide, and providing them with exceptional benefits including dental, his massive company accounted for about fifty percent of C02 emissions world-wide over the past thirty years. (Full disclosure: there was also an incident where a phalanx of DraxCorp. injection molding robots gained sentience and gave Barbies dildos for arms but that’s generally considered a distant second in the evil department).\n\nTo compound the irony, the inevitable global warming from said C02 emissions melted the “eternal mausoleum of icy doom” that Drax had Supra Girl, aka Dolly McFarland reporter for the Metropolitan Picayune (now a wholly owned subsidiary of DraxCorp, Inc.), entombed in.\n\nThe following timeline pieced-together from eyewitness accounts of what happened in downtown Metropolitan City Tuesday, April fifth two thousand twenty seven shortly after Supra Girl was thawed out of her frozen prison:\n\n(1:07 PM): The National DraxCorp. Weather Service broadcasts a tornado watch for Metropolitan city. [This eyewitness account is sponsored by DraxCorp: “If it’s not DraxCorp, it’s not weather!”]\n\n(1:11 PM): Radar confirms F8 tornado touches down just outside of city. Tornado watch upgraded to a warning.\n\n(1:12 PM): Woman with wet hair and blue lips seen frantically running around the streets as if she was looking for something.\n\n(1:13 PM): Woman stops child on the street and is overheard asking where she can find a phone booth. Child responds, “What?”\n\n(1:14 PM) Woman stops an adult and inquires about phone booth. Adult hands woman their DraxPhone. [This eyewitness account is sponsored by DraxCorp: “If it’s not a DraxCorp, then it’s not a phone because no one makes phones anymore besides DraxCorp!”]\n\n(1:15 PM) Woman seen spinning phone around in her hands, “Where are the buttons?”\n\n(1:16 PM) Woman spotted running into alley. Closed circuit security camera picks up Woman in the alley tearing open her blouse in heroic fashion. Woman looks up and directly into the camera and mouths what experts deduced to either be the word, “fudge” or “truck.” Woman runs out of the alley.\n\n(1:18 PM) Woman spotted running up to a police officer standing next to a windowless police van. Woman: “I need to use your van.” Officer: “Please take shelter, Miss.” Woman: “But I’m a reporter.” Officer: “Now that’s a word I haven’t heard in years. Tweet this, Blogger.” Officer flips her the bird.\n\n(1:20) DraxCorp Early-Warning Tornado Sirens start. [This eyewitness account sponsored by DraxCorp. “If it’s DraxCorp, it’s probably too late!”] \n\n(1:20 PM) Woman seen by multiple citizens running around and waving her arms in the air “like a lunatic” screaming, “Tornado coming! Tornado coming!”\n\n(1:21 PM) The last citizens on the street safely take shelter in the building of their choice thanks to DraxCoat Spray-on Tornado And Terrorist-Proof Polymer. [This eyewitness account is sponsored by DraxCorp: “If it’s not DraxCorp, you’ll probably die!”]\n\n(1:22 PM) Woman wanders around in the street aimlessly. A citizen, takes Woman by the arm and leads her into a corner diner.\n\n(1:23 PM) Woman weeps while the sky darkens and the tornado approaches. As the crowd in the diner watches a stream of the tornado on their phones they let out a cheer when it mows through one of the few remain buildings not covered in DraxCoat. A couple of bodies can be seen flying from the building. [This eyewitness account is sponsored by DraxCorp. “If it’s not DraxCorp… see they really did die!”] \n\n(1:24 PM) Woman asks a citizen sitting next to her to explain what is happening. Citizen, brings up Wikipedia [A wholly owned subsidiary of DraxCorp] and shows her the DraxCorp entry.\n\n(1:30 PM) Woman hands the phone back to the Citizen and is overheard saying to him, “But Drax is destroying the world and you are paying him to do it! We’ve got to do something to stop him!” [This eyewitness account is brought to you by DraxCorp: “If it’s DraxCorp, it’s not destroying the world!”]\n\n(1:30 PM) Woman complains of a headache. Citizen types something in to his phone and within thirty seconds a DraxAzon.com drone flies into the diner and drops a bottle of aspirin on the counter next to the Woman. Woman is amazed. [This eyewitness account is brought to you by DraxCorp: “If it’s not DraxCorp, you’ll probably have to wait five minutes to get it!”]\n\n(1:31 PM) Citizen shows Woman how to order something on his phone by punching in your DraxCorp Social Security Number. [This eyewitness account was brought to you by DraxCorp: “If it’s not DraxCorp, you don’t exist!”]\n\n(3:21 PM) Woman stares at a phone transfixed as the fifth F8 twister that day barrels through downtown. A drone flies into the diner and drops a box into the Woman’s lap. She tears it open. It’s a pair DraxCorp earbuds. [This eyewitness account was brought to you by DraxCorp: “If it’s not DraxCorp, you’re probably an enemy of the State!”] Woman throws the empty box onto a pile of about thirty other empty boxes at her feet, puts the earbuds on and plugs them into the phone.\n\n(3:21 PM) Citizen is asks Woman, “Can I have my phone back now?” Woman grunts and pushes his hand away. Latest tornado hits building not protected by DraxCoat. Dozens die. The Woman and the rest of the diner erupt in cheers.\n", "I always feel it on the inside of my cheeks, at the line where it connects to my gums. \n\nIrritability would set in soon. Already I could feel my nerves start to fray. I stared at my dead iMac screen. \n\n\"Work, you piece of shit!\" I slapped the side of it, the power light remained on, while I could still hear the drive inside attempt to read the disc. It was taunting me. Saying oh, I can still work, but you don't know how to fix me!*\n\nI knew it was right, even if I knew the proper keyboard shortcuts, the bluetooth connection wasn't active. \n\n\"I wish I had enough money to build my own PC.\" I was talking to myself. My wife knew better than to try to talk me down at this point. \"Hell, I could probably build a better computer then what it's going to cost me to repair this iShit.\" I had googled the problem in my phone. Several things popped up, graphics card, faulty hard drive, none of which I could deal with.\n\nMy cheeks burned now. I unplugged the computer, if only to pry myself away from the glorified paperweight and its taunting glowing light. As I stepped outside, I was tempted to find a place where I could purchase materials for thermite, if only to send the machine to hell in a most satisfying way. \n\nI lit my cigarette and stared at the trail of smoke rising from the cherry.\n\n\"I'll quit smoking one day.\" I said as I exhaled my addiction.", "\"Jess, why are you still with that man?\" Kathy said, passing Jessica a starbucks cup across the plastic table. Jessica opened the plastic lid carefully, savouring the sweet, chocolaty, coffee aroma that rose up from it. She knew it would be too hot to drink right now, but she could barely help herself. She took a sip from the cardboard cup. Just a tiny one. It seared her tongue so she barely tasted anything, but it was good enough. She hadn't had her drink in months.\n\n\"Oh, Mark isn't that bad,\" she said, wrapping her fingers around the thin cup. The heat cut through the thin, one-size fits all pink gloves, pulling the cold out of her hands. \n\nKathy snorted. \"Jess, everything you've told me about that man is bad. What was it he called you last week?\"\n\n\"A fat cow,\" Jess whispered, conscious of the patrons around her. \"But he's right, I haven't been to the gym in a month and I was eating a-\"\n\n\"Jess,\" Kathy cut her off. \"Look at yourself, you weight 110 lbs in your bra. And didn't you tell me that you hadn't been to the gym because he cancelled your membership?\"\n\nShe didn't know what to say to that. She sipped the triple cream mocha latte instead. It burned her mouth again, but she didn't care. Mark would have called her stupid for drinking it so quickly. \"Why can't you ever just let it cool?\" he'd told her years ago, back when they still went on dates. Now he just made comments on her eating habits when he saw her with Starbucks.\n\n\"Jess, listen to me. You have to leave that man,\" Kathy was saying, her dark eyes pleading with Jess. She nodded.\n\n--\n\nIt was getting dark when she finally got home. The red glowing numbers over the kitchen stove sent her into a panic in the dark home. It was nearly 7 and she hadn't made any plans for dinner yet. Quickly, she whipped open the fridge, looking for anything useful. Last night's pot roast stared up at her. It would have to do, she thought, quickly tossing it into a pan to reheat. A handful of leftover potatoes went into the pan beside it just as the front door opened.\n\n\"I'm home, Jessica,\" Mark's voice echoed through the hallway. \"What's for dinner, love?\"\n\n\"Ahh, leftovers,\" she said anxiously, peeking out of the kitchen. She saw Mark's expression sag in the hallway. \n\n\"Oh.\" The disappointment in his voice was obvious as he came into the kitchen with one arm behind his back. Jessica quickly turned back to the stove, trying to bring a little more life to the leftovers. There was some rustling on the kitchen table as she started to talk.\n\n\"Sorry, the subway was just super slow coming back and then-\"\n\n\"And then you stopped off at Starbucks again and bought another expensive, fatty drink.\" His voice held such certainty that she glanced back. He was staring at the garbage can in the corner, her Starbucks cup still sitting on top of the pile of trash she'd forgotten to take out before she left. She licked her lips nervously, noticing a bouquet of pink daisies sitting on the table.\n\n\"Sorry, just Kathy wanted to take me out and it'd been such awhile since we talked-\"\n\n\"Yeah, I get it.\" Mark's voice dripped with disappointment. \"Just I'd had a really rough day at work, and I was really looking forward to coming home to a nice, home-cooked meal from my beautiful wife. I'd even bragged to my coworkers about how lovely it would be. But instead I came home to a cold house and yesterday's leftovers because my wife wanted to spend my money on an over-priced coffee.\"\n\n\"Ah..\" Jessica bit back the urge to apologize again. \"I could... make something else? Maybe order in?\"\n\n\"No no, it's fine,\" Mark said with a tone that said it really wasn't. \"I think we already wasted enough money today.\" He gestured at the flowers on the table. \"I even brought you some daisies to say thank you for being such a good wife. Seems silly now.\"\n\nJessica bit her lip. \"Thank you.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\" Mark got up, tossing the flowers onto the counter as he headed towards the garbage can. \"Guess I'll just go take out the garbage then. Can't even relax when I get home.\"\n\nThe rest of the night passed in steely silence as the pair watched one of Mark's favourite movies on Jessica's old couch. It was the last piece of furniture she had here, passed down from her grandmother. The rest of it was shiny new, stuff that Mark had brought in to replace her old stuff. Some of the old furniture had been falling to shreds before he had got his new job, effectively tripling the income Jess had brought in. \n\nThe movie passed on but Jessica barely heard it, lost in thought over Kathy's comments. Mark really wasn't that bad, she thought as he wrapped an arm around her. He'd brought her flowers, after all, and paid for all their new stuff. All he'd wanted was a clean house and a warm meal. If she hadn't been out with her friend, she'd have been able to get that all done. Something exploded on the TV and Mark pulled her closer to him, snuggling up to say it was all forgiven.\n\nShe didn't need to leave him." ]	10
	[WP] The world's population has gotten so high that the universe has run out of souls to reincarnate into newborns.	[ "Arthur paced back and forth nervously along the puke-green corridor. His hands wrapped, one over the other nervously cracking knuckles. Only the whites of his eyes were visible as he proffered fervent supplications to God. Any god. \n\nHis eyes, framed by dark lids, betrayed his proximity to insanity. Harsh, violent shrieks pierced the morbid peace of the halls. The sickly sweet smell of death had long failed to assault his senses, numbed by the nerve-wracking stress. When he wasn't praying, he would peek nervously into the operating room to appraise the progress. He peeked in once more. \n\nIt was a war zone. \n\nLinda screamed in the throes of labor. Every cord of muscle in her wiry neck bulged with her efforts. Next to her, a gaunt aged man slept with all the peace of a man approaching death. Little green men and women surrounded her, their arms by their sides. They could do nothing but wait. \n\n'Come on you old codger, fucking give up already'\n\nArthur tore himself away from the sight. And continued his fevered laps across the hall. \n\nAll that mattered was timing. He needed to go just in time, just stop breathing. Just die. And maybe his daughter would have an inkling of a chance. \n\nThe door flung open. An apparition of a Martian stepped out, drenched in blood. Her sleep-deprived eyes gazed sullenly at him. He caught her last few words '..... almost there, you can come in now, congratulations.' \n\n'Huh?'\n\nHer facial muscles contorted in an odd mockery of a smile \n'Sir, you're the first father in twenty two years. Congratulations'\n\nArthur wept. ", "An angel was running. That's right, not flying, flapping, swooping nor soaring, but running. Like a bloody fool. It is a well-guarded secret that Angels are actually incredibly clumsy and forgetful when they are stressed.\n\n\"What do you mean we ran out?!\" \nIt was running AND shouting, a floating orb of light beside it glowed and responded with excuses and apologies and statistics about the human race and its expansive population. \n\"So, we just ran out? Of souls. We ran out of souls.\" The angel was obviously not relaxed after this orb's retort, however it had reached its destination and entered the chamber slowly. Before it, a vast pool of shimmering liquid gold rippled and glistening in the half-light of the room, from the centre rose a tall, bearded figure with piercing blue eyes.\n\"Oh, God...\"\n\"Yes, Balthasar?\"\n\"It is not good news, I fear, m'lord.\"\nGod stood and stared blankly for a moment, his mind melding with the angel as its thoughts became his own. \n\"We ran out of souls!?\" He exclaimed, suddenly disrupting the soft tranquility of the golden pond.\n\"It would appear so, m'lord.\"\n\"Then what on Earth did she give birth to? Freeze time for me please, Balthasar, I must go down and see this for my self.\"\n\nWithin minutes, God was dressed for the occasion and descended to Earth, the world stood still in an eternal second as he materialised in a hospital room in Reading, located in the United Kingdom.\nBefore him lay a red-faced woman, clearly fresh from giving birth, and in her arms lay a tiny infant boy, his eyes locked with the face of God, though he would never know he had seen such a rare sight.\n\" Who are you, boy?\" God whispered to himself, leaning in to examine a set of forms being filled in by a nurse.\n\"What name is given to the first soulless human being?\"\nHe paused for a second longer, smiling to himself as he did.\n\"Jeremy Kyle\"\n\"Nice name, better keep an eye on this one!\" And with that, God returned to Heaven to inflict horrific illnesses on other unborn children and listen to his favourite album of middle-class white people mumbling politely in his honour.", "The pain started building again, up from the small of Sarah's back, fighting around her abdomin, then consuming and crushing her. It was hard to think through the contractions, like her body didn't have enough power to run her mind and attend to the work it was doing below. She breathed shakily, trying to be present through the fog of pain and anxiety.\n\n\n\"Kate, Kate, Kate, Kate....\" Sarah wanted to say more, say everything, but her mouth kept getting stuck on one word.\n\n\nKate bent over and kissed Sarah's clammy brow.\n\n\n\"There, there...\" She said helplessly, tears streaming down her face.\n\n\n\"We're going to have to proceed if you are still sure you want to do this.\" The nurse said, \"The baby is crowning, and the OB is on his way.\"\n\n\n\"You don't have to...\" Jake said, his voice as tight as an overtuned guitar string.\n\n\n\"Stop.\" Kate said, her voice firmer than Sarah had ever heard it. \"I couldn't live with myself if your little girl ended up one of those.... I want to do this. Second chance either way, right?\"\n\n\nAt her feat, Sarah was vaguely aware of the doctor getting ready, putting on gloves and getting into position. At her side, the nurse was lowering Kate into a padded chair and painting her arm with iodine, as if that would matter soon.\n\n\n\"I have to remind you there aren't any guarantees.\" The nurse murmured softly.\n\n\n\"Shut up about that.\" Jake ordered. \"We know all about it.\"\n\n\n\"Best. Sister.\" Sarah gasped as a fresh wave of pain clamped down on her.\n\n\n\"I know.\" Kate smiled weakly, bending awkwardly to kiss Sarah's forehead again while the nurse held her arm under the syringe. \"Be a better mom than ours was, okay?\"\n\n\n\"Promise!\" Sarah gasped. \n\n\n\"We need you to push now.\" The doctor said, as the nurse depressed the plunger. Jake rushed to pull Sarah's knees back toward her chest. She tried to concentrate on the feeling of the weakening hand still holding hers, but soon the labor was all she was. Press down, two, three, release her breath and again. After an eternity measured in three second intervals, something inside her released, and a warm, cone-headed infant was being propped on her chest.\n\n\nAs the doctors tended to the afterbirth, Sarah peered intently at her daughter's face.\n\n\n\"Hey. Hey, sweety. Hey, lovely girl. Look at mama. Look at me, baby.\" \n\n\nJake's big, calloused hand gripped her shoulder, leaning for support as he too watched with anxious eyes.\n\n\nThe baby struggled weakly, looking for the confining walls it was so used to. Breathing in uneaven gasps, it mewled softly, then tentatively raised a tiny eyelid before quickly clamping it shut again.\n\n\n\"I saw it.\" Jake pronounced, \"Our little girl has a soul.\" His hand grew heavier on Sarah's shoulder and she felt him quiver as the burden of his anxiety left him in wracking sobs.\n\n\nSarah smiled as she bundled the crying baby closer to her. \"Shush. Shush now, Kate, mama's here.\"\n" ]	3
	[WP] Someone with telekinetic powers makes their living rigging sporting events.	[ "\"Is that some kind of joke?\" The man scowled.\n\nI returned his gaze with an equally stiff expression.\n\n\"Not at all.\" Yep. That seemed to hit the spot.\n\nIt was quick and most people wouldn't have noticed, but I wasn't most people. In the briefest moment, his eyes changed from those of a man who took me as a con artist, to those of a man who took me as the world's biggest sucker.\n\nHe extended his hand. Below, a ball cracked against a metal rod. I extended my own hand and we shook. It was a deal.\n\nUnfortunately, things don't always go as planned. At that precise moment, my new business partner fell to the ground. There was a noise, and a white-and-red blur sped down and onto the stairs, where it kept a steady momentum. There, on the ground between us, was what I could only assume was the poor fellow's wallet. In an effort to prevent a thief from snatching whatever money he had been carrying, I took it upon myself to safeguard his funds. Discreetly, of course. I didn't want people going and getting the wrong impression.\n\nIt happened in an instant and I took my leave before the gasps had reached a sufficient volume as to trigger the arrival of paramedics. I continued to watch the game, very carefully, and, in a record-setting comeback, my team won!\n\nLet it never be said that I am unfair. If I am to be faulted with anything, let it be my impatience.\n\n---\n\nThanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, feel free to read my other prompt responses [here](https://calebdoeswords.wordpress.com/).", "Alright. So, my name doesn't really matter, and honestly, it would probably make it easy for thugs to find me. I was born with a unique talent. Not some mundane skill, not natural talent, or anything you'd think of outside of a comic book. I can move shit with my mind. Now, because I know that some government or another would make it their mission to track me down, dissect me, and figure out how to replicate me, I've been fairly careful about not making that skill too well known. Lifted a few skirts during high school, played a few practical jokes. I fucked up though. I'll explain how.\nSo, I'm not exactly the most hard working guy out there. Fairly lazy actually. I dropped out of college after freshman year. Not a particularly good choice. Jobs were hard to come by. And then I started making bets with people. Of course, being the starving person I was, I rigged the bets. Made sure that I won. I got good at recognizing how far I could push people before I had to move on. It was good money. I managed to break even on my debts. Pay off the student loan, pay rent, eat decently even. I was comfortable. And then I got fucking greedy. I went to the casino, started rigging the roulette wheels and the slot machines. I spent weeks studying the engineering for them, not quite as lazy now that I knew how much money I could make. I pushed my luck, got kicked out of a few casinos. \nThis is when I realized that I could make even more money by finding people that made bets on sporting events. Make some ridiculous bet with a huge payoff, and throw some money at it. Stupid, I know. Needless to say I got more and more stupid. I wound up having to use my power to stop some people from killing me for taking too much of their money. Now they know. I think they sold the secret to the government too. I've had some close calls. I've left everyone I know and love, left my life, my name, everything I owned. But I'm alive. Probably only because they want me alive, but still. \nMy name use to be Henry Jacobson. Now it's whatever name I can take at the time. I used to live in a solid house in San Fran. Now I live in a small apartment at an undisclosed location. I used to make bank through bets. Now I lift wallets from a distance. I fucked up.\n\nTo anyone else like me, anyone with any special ability, don't get greedy, don't get caught. Don't. Fuck. Up. Good luck." ]	2
	[WP] The moment of realization, that your oldest, worst rival who undermined you at every turn, knowingly made you reach your true potential.	[ "\"He's not that good\" he used to say. This was almost a motto he mumbled every time I did something out of the ordinary. A remarkable example that I recall is me saying to a group of friends that we needed sun to not breaks our bones. He had said that was not true. I explained to him our bodies get vitamin D from the sunlight and that was beneficial for our bones. We had never talked about that in school, but somehow I knew it. He didn't like the fact that other people could know stuff that he didn't.\n\nHe would undermine me in every step of my way. \"He's not even close to be good with the sciences. I give him credit for knowing like 3 languages and for writing pretty well, but he's not good with science.\" I remember him saying this over and over. I was the kind of guy that would just ace tests without studying, just because I had read something about the questions in there.\n\nI used to be the best in maths, but that was the thing where he surpassed me. There was a point I didn't care anymore about school and that's when he started pulling ahead. I'm actually back on that track now.\n\nHe's not my nemesis. I actually still consider him to be a friend. He's different now, though. I could handle what everyone called envy. Yes, he used to envy me, they said. That's probably why he wanted to knock me down just a bit. I don't believe he wanted to take me down for good. But he did. At least for 2 and a half years. Well not him directly, but he influenced it. Or so everyone thought, I knew I didn't lose MY battle there.\n\nFrom the first day of elementary school to the last day of high school we were classmates. More than that: we were best friends. When grades started to matter(high school), he got competitive. I am competitive by nature myself. I was used to be the best until that point and I didn't want to stop there. Truth is I did stop there, because my nemesis did that to me. It's called pressure.\n\nThat's something I can't handle well if it's not the good kind of pressure. I love to feel pressure when I have to speak publicly, I love to feel pressure when everyone expects me to perform in a team game/sport, but there's one kind of pressure I can't handle. No, it's not peer pressure, I've been dealing with that for a long time and still manage it pretty well. It's parent pressure.\n\nI succumbed to that pressure. I wasn't good anymore. I was just above average. There was a voice inside my head everyday I got home. \"I liked it more when you were always the best in everything in school, son\" the voice would say. \"Well, then why did you tell me there was no money for college even if I had a perfect GPA?\"\n\nI still had to perform to a certain standard for my own sake. And I always did. I finished high school with a 16 out of 20 point average. He did with a 14 out of 20 I believe. We actually ended up going to the same university. Engineering school, both with projects for 5 years, major and master's degrees. He was Environmental and I was Biochemistry.\n\nOnce we got there I loved the ambient, he loved the people and the classes. I loved everything around me(visually - the infrastructures, the mass of people and the equipment), there was so much to talk about. But I couldn't relate to any of the people there and the classes soon followed. He had been right all along: \"He's not even close to be good with the sciences. I give him credit for knowing like 3 languages and for writing pretty well, but he's not good with science.\". It's not that I wasn't good with the sciences, I just didn't love them. I liked all of them, but I didn't love them.\n\nTwo and a half years later, he's still in the same university completing his major and he already has a master's to work on next year. And I... Well I spent those two and a half years researching like I used to before we went to college. I would spend my days reading about things other people proved to be facts and ideas other people had. But these two and a half years... I spent them researching about myself. I read, I exercised, I wrote and I wrote more and I started to not like writing anymore, I started to love it.\n\nHe helped me in his own way. He helped me find myself. I had to cope with so many things my entire life and my best way to cope with those things was writing. Now, writing is all I want to do. I'm looking to major in Foreign Literature and Cultures(that's how we call it here) so I can learn more about the English and Spanish speaking people/countries and so I can interact with people who share the same interests and ideas with me.\n\nHe helped me find the thing I love and I hope I can thank him somewhere down the road. We haven't been talking lately, I actually feel like we don't know each other anymore, but deep down I feel like I owe him something. Maybe I'll buy him a beer and offer him a copy of one of the two books I'm working on so he can be one of my beta readers. Maybe he'll envy those and make them reach they're true potential with his critics. Guess he knew it all along: \"He's not even close to be good with the sciences. I give him credit for knowing like 3 languages and for writing pretty well, but he's not good with science.\"\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n*Didn't worry about it much. Just started typing and typing. No edition, just straight out of my thoughts. This is 100% truthful and I really am grateful to him. Sorry for misspelled words or grammar errors, as you can see if you read everything I'm not a native Englishman so mistakes can happen if I don't go back to edit. I didn't want to do it this time, since I'm the actual narrator of the prompt. It feels right to not change anything. BTW, he's not the worst rival, just an healthy, friendly and competitive one. But I never really had any other person I could call a rival, so I guess he's both the best* and the worst rival.*", "\"Guilty.\" The judge said. The hammer hit the gavel with a loud wooden clack. \"I sentence you to ten years imprisonment.\"\n\nThe words rang out and hung heavy in the air. I looked up just a fraction of an inch through my fringe, which I'd spent all morning hiding behind. Through the gap in the thin wisps of my hair, I watched him. \n\nHim, my father. The man who had raised me. The man who had broken me. The man I had now beaten.\n\nI watched him standing in the dock, trembling with the realisation that he was going to spend the next decade in a cell. I watched the man I'd considered a beast, shrinking away to nothing in front of me. I've done it.* I thought, I've won. I felt tears well up. His head jerked up and his eyes met mine. I saw the briefest, saddest smile cross his face before I looked away and buried my face in my hands to sob.\n\nIt had started when I was fourteen. Until then, he'd been a fantastic dad. Always been close, cuddling me and telling me how I was his favourite. His little girl. In a house with two brothers to compete with, it made me glow to know he thought of me like that. \n\nOne night he'd come to my bedroom. I thought it was for a goodnight kiss. But then he'd started to touch me, in places I knew weren't right. Places I'd only been touched by Chad Ramirez when I was a bit younger, but I'd slapped his hands and told him to stop. This time, I tried to speak but found my voice cracked with fear. My father reeked of booze. He had a sad smile on his face.\n\n\"My little girl.\" He'd repeated. Over and over. For three years.\n\nI ran away at seventeen. Nobody would have believed me anyway. It was a crushing kind of pressure, his weight on me each night. He smothered me with it, and the influence on my life smothered my brain. I couldn't think my way out. Brothers? No go - they adored our father. Our mother died when we were very young, so again no options there.\n\nSo I'd ran.\n\nI ran as far as any seventeen year old girl could. When I ran out of cash, I did what any desperate girl would do to make money. I remember crying in front of a sleazy motel mirror for a solid hour after that. \n\nAfter that - months turned into years. I was constantly looking over my shoulder. Waiting for him to come to me on nights. The dark terrified me. Drinking appalled me. I had nightmares of his voice, tender and sweet while he tore my insides up. \n\n\"My little girl...\"\n\nThen I found my strength. I stopped doing awful stuff with strangers for cash. I collected all of my money. I studied law. Sure, I wasn't educated enough to get a real job as a lawyer or a barrister. But I was a hard-worker, and like I've said - I was desperate. I landed a job as a legal secretary. \n\nEven then, I was afraid. I kept imagining him bursting through the doors of the office. Laughing at me. I daydreamed about what he would say. \n\n\"My little girl wearing grown-up suits? Take 'em off.\" \n\nOne day, enough was enough. I went to the police. Relief. It felt like a stone I'd carried around for years just fell away from me, cast away into an ocean of misery that had threatened to drown me for all of those years. \n\nAnd now, in the court-room, I'd done it. I'd won. He was going to jail. And not just for a few months, or a year. Ten years. The judge had said. My brothers had testified that he'd beaten them regularly, especially after I had left them. The judge had uncovered a catalogue of abuse from a man who, to the public, had seemed an upstanding citizen.\n\nAnd now I watch through my fringe as my father is led away. The man who'd called me \"his special little girl.\" Who'd cuddled me at nights when I was a child, told me stories and stroked my hair. The man who'd began to abuse me. To rape me. To destroy me. \n\nI watch him led away through the shield of my hair and the gap in my hands. I can't help but cry.\n\nFuck you, daddy. But also...in some ways, thank you. You made me strong. " ]	2
	[WP] A story that starts with "she (or he) was dead. I was not sad, nor crying."	[ "She was dead. I was not sad, nor was I crying. Maybe it would have hurt years ago but not today, not now. \n\nBack then she used to talk to us, treat us like her own special slice of heaven, like we mattered to her. She used to laugh at my jokes, come home with a smile, leave with a kiss. She lost all of that when the baby was born. She lost the sparkle in the eye, the love in her smile, and the passion in her heart. \n\nAs the baby grew and matured she became more secluded, drawing herself away from the family. I remember, she used to leave the house often, say she was going on walks with a friend for and hour or two at a time. \"To get in shape\" she always said. My heart turned to ice. I talked to my sister, argued with her for a long time. She was right though, in the end. It looked a lot like she was cheating. \n\nI cried that night for the first time in a long time. The realization was too much for me. The evidence was there. I realized then, too, that even when she was there she really wasn't. She spent her time talking to friends and coworkers on social media sites. Watching crime shows and dramas on the television. When I told her about my day I could tell she wasn't listening, her mistimed \"mhmm\"s and head nods told the whole story. She didn't care and enough to even pretend she was interested. It didn't even occur to me at the time.\n\nThe baby grew older, matured, and I began to resent him for taking her away. I hated him for a long time, a scapegoat for the troubles of the world. In the end though I realized it didn't matter. It wasn't his choice to snuff the fire in her soul. It wasn't his choice to fracture our relationship to an unrepairable extent, for even though time heals all wounds it would still carry an ugly red scar for the rest of our lives.\n\nSo I forgave the baby eventually. It wasn't him, but rather his conception that took the life from her. She handled her own situation poorly, hurt those around her, all for her own selfish desires.\n\nWhen my mother died, I wasn't sad. I didn't cry. Not for her at least. I cried for my little brother, who had taken my hate, my distain for years of his life, all unjustly directed towards him. And I cried for my dad. Through all the mistrust, betrayal, and sadness, he still loved my mother more than anyone in the world.\n\nEdit: Words", "He was dead. I was not sad, nor crying. \n\nI was envious. \n\nHe had the courage, the ability to do what I’d fantasized about doing for the past year. But I was too much of a coward. Just a handful of pills. That was the neatest way, but the least reliable. A bullet through my forehead would be quick, quick, just a light flicking off. It would be beautiful. But if I misfired then I’d just be trapped in a scarred body, the cloying scent that masks the scent of death suffocating me. \n\nDeath. I could taste it: nothingness. It would be like never existing. My consciousness would be no more. Nothing tastes like the word on the tip of your tongue; you know it's almost there but it just hasn’t set in yet. It tastes like wistfulness. It tastes like beauty. \n\nHe was gone. People would forget him. He gets to not exist. He gets to not live. \n\n\nFuck him. \n", "He was dead. I was not sad, nor crying. \n\nI breathed heavily as I moved back from the body lying on the floor, pain flowed through me with my every move. I didn’t expect him to put up a fight, they usually don’t. I examined my work. It was a little messy, but it was the best I could do with my supplies. I don’t know why my employer was so insistent on me only using a wooden stake, but I never questioned him. The customer’s always right. The one good thing about it was that there was no gunshot, which means no one heard and no one called the cops. I took time to catch my breath, getting extra clean up time was rare and I was going to take advantage of it. After a few minuets, I went to remove the weapon from the victim’s body. \n\nThat’s when I heard him breathing.", "She was dead. I was not sad, nor crying. In fact, I was excited.\n\n\"GUYS!!! COME HERE, I FOUND ONE!\"\n\nThe team rushed in, grabbing their lamps. Everyone was completely covered in thermal suits. The temperature was minus 30 Celcius.\n\nWe all looked at her. She had been completely preserved by the permafrost. It was the perfect specimen. Now all that remained was to see whether she had been frozen fast enough so that ice crystals wouldn't form inside her cells.\n\n\"We'll have to take a tissue sample\"\n\n\"Is a piece of the pinky fine?\" one asked.\n\n\"Sure, just be careful.\"\n\nThe analysis only took one minute. After the analysis was finished, the machine displayed the results.\n\nICE CRYSTALS FOUND INSIDE THE CELLS.\n\n\"Damn it\", I shouted. \"Can the brain be savaged?\"\n\n\"I think so.\"\n\n\"Excellent. Let's just pack the head. Wait! Take a picture of her, we need to preserve her looks.\"\n\nWe carefully put the head in the cryo-container. It looked ridiculous, having to use a cryogenic container for an already-frozen specimen, but it was obvious that after a few kilometers of travel, we would reach the comfortable temperature of the labs.\n\nWe came in.\n\n\"Well? Did you find one?\"\n\n\"Yes, doctor.\"\n\n\"Excellent!!!\", the bearded man shouted. \"Sex? Age?\"\n\n\"Female, around her thirties. But her cells didn't get preserved, she froze too slowly.\"\n\n\"Oh, dear.\"\n\n\"We have the brain.\"\n\n\"Ah!! That changes everything! Put it on the scanner. In a few hours, we'll be able to replicate her brain.\"\n\n\"We took a picture, for the body.\"\n\n\"Good, good!\", said the doctor. \"Maybe we'll be able to decipher now what happened to mankind five centuries ago.\"\n\n\"Finally\", I said. \"I'm getting tired of this freezing hell. When are we going back to Terra Nova?\"\n\n\"Oh, just four months, don't worry.\"\n\n\"What??? Another Four months???\"\n\n\"Oh, didn't I tell you? We're supposed to explore the southern hemisphere, too!\"\n\nFuck my life.", "He was dead. \nI was not sad, nor crying. \n\nWe had lived together for years in a mutual relationship. Some would call it symbiotic, but I knew better, it was parasitic. He would lead and I would follow. I'd suggest pizza for dinner, he'd go buy it. Sadly we would also fight about the stupidest things and he never listened to any of my real advice. \n\nAt one point he turned to drugs, I pleaded with him to stop, telling him that there were too many thing to see and do to waste his life. \"I know what I'm doing\" he said. \n\nHow many times did he say that as he grew weaker each day? \n\nThe drugs slowly destroyed him and I started to accept that he wouldn't stop until he was dead. And now he's gone. \n\nI still have the bottle of pills that killed him with me. \nI've read the label so many times I have it memorized. \n[Perphenazine.](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Perphenazine)", "She (or he) was dead. I was not sad, nor crying.\n\nYou see, even at the tender age of 4 I had a firm grasp on life and death and all its implications. Suffice it to say my parents were slightly perturbed at my apparent apathy to the death of a goldfish. \n\nWhat I didn't have a firm grasp on was biology; namely fish biology. There has never been a so-called \"gender-neutral\" name which appealed to me. I despise all \"Jesse\"s and \"Pat\"s. Some try to get around \"Lauren\" and \"Loren\" by claiming to hear some slight variation in that first rounded, sickening vowel, but I'm not sure I believe it. But I digress.\n\nMy parents were of no help. Despite my insistence that I could not name the fish without knowing its biological nature, the two of them indulgingly suggested I simply name the fish \"fish.\" I nearly vomited. \n\nSo for the following year my parents had called the fish \"fish\" while I also called the fish \"fish\" but only because that is what the fish was. To them it was a name, an identity. To me it was a label, nothing more.\n\nStudy of the specimen had yielded little results. Despite regular feedings and various proddings with kitchen instruments, fish had refused to give up its secrets. \n\nSo an accident was staged. \n\nLuckily my mother had the bad habit of leaving kitchen knives near the kitchen counter. Oh, I don't mean to say this was lucky because I could access it. No, I'd learned to organize the kitchen drawers or pull over a dining room chair ages before. Her placement of the blade provided sufficient justification for my excuse for why fish had been cut in two. \n\nOf course I had simply been on my way to get a snack, and had happened to bring fish's bowl with me, and had happened to place it on the floor by the counter, and had happened to accidentally kick the knife off the counter in my quest for pop tarts, and it had happened to perfectly bisect fish in its downward arc. Too easy.\n\nOf course fish was already dead and cut when I had placed the bowl below the counter, but no one would suspect such a young adolescent of such planning. \n\nSo I did not cry as fish was lowered into the ground in the shoebox in which my new school-shoes came. I was not sad. Fish was gone, and while I did not know whether fish had been male or female, I had learned some interesting tidbits about fish biology. \n\nSo all in all, I suppose fish had been a good pet." ]	6
	[WP] You wake up and find you have suddenly been teleported to the last video game you played, and must survive for the next 72 hours.	[ "He said it'd be easy. He said it was get the gold, put it in S.T.E.V.E., surface and get paid. Sounded too good to be true. I should have seen the red flags after the captain handed everyone guns and flares. The flares I could understand, we were heading into dark waters off the Mexican coast. The guns were 'for our protection.' The question should have been \"From What?\" but the payoff was too great to remind myself of the consequences.I was already on the boat out to the diving location before I had the chance to say uncle. The captain drove our poorly-maintained boat out to open water. I sat with the most rag-tag group of people i've ever seen, even for this part of the country. \n\nOne's a Puerto Rican wanna be club runner who looks like this is a summer job to him. Slicked black hair and enough perfume to gag a department store. We got to talking and he seemed genuine enough. Turns out he's on the wrong side of the cartels and needs to pay protection money or find his head on a sidewalk, impaled. Yeesh. Don't envy him none. \n\nThe lady of our group could pass as a Sports Illustrated model, but she had her eyes on the gold. I asked her about her personal life as we awaited the plunge, but the icy stare of \"go fuck yourself\" was prominent. If looks could draw blood, she could slaughter armies. Something tells me I should keep tabs on her for my safety. \n\nThe only other diver in the midst was an old sailor who saw war-time action. Kept to himself mostly, but did crack a joke or two on the hour trip to the dive spot. As we entered the shark cage, he mentioned in passing it'd be his last dive before retirement. Good on him. From the multiple scars, it looks like he could use it. \n\nAs the cage was lowered into the water, the captain shouted to us \"Oh and... be careful of sharks.\" Odd thing to say as we slipped into the murky water. Suddenly there were numbers above everyone's heads. 30 divers. $800 each. 30 sharks. \n\nOh no. \n\n>Depth", "I wake up in a dark, cold, hallway. The walls are made of stone and the amount of must indicated that I must be underground. I luckily stumble across a lantern. Now I need oil and a light. \n\nI must have woken up in a storeroom because there is oil and flint and tinder aplenty. I light the lantern and re-enter the hallway.\n\nI hear someone shuffling down the hall further down. Without even thinking, I call out to see if whoever it is can help me get out of here. The shuffling stops. I raise my lantern to get a better look at the figure.\n\nThe light illuminates a figure I know all too well. No, this can't be. That's a video game. What the hell is going on. I must be going insane.\n\nI see the Gatherer running at me. I'm frozen, petrified in my fear and shock. \n\nWith a metallic clank, my lantern falls to the ground.", "I awoke. I was in a palace of some sort, with beautiful marble columns. I had no clue where I was. Hung over, I stretched, and got up. All around me were furs and hides that clashed horribly with the elegance of the room. But when I brushed my hand against one of the pillars, and realized that the bricks were not marble, but ivory. Terrified I stumbled back. As I fell, my flailing arm pushed open the door. Seeing a balcony through the aperture, I dragged myself outside. Looking across the city, I could see aqueducts and mosques, but in the middle of the city was an enormous mesa. Instead of building atop it, the people had apparently carved a structure similar to Petra. As I admired the view, someone must have approached me; I jumped ten feet in the air as an pretty Indian woman put her hand on my shoulder. I knew where I was the second she addressed me as \"Khan\": I was in Mongolia. The year was 1584. After years of war with the Celts, they had come to an uneasy peace. It was more like a cease-fire, really. Under Mongol command was Mexico and Denmark, whose riches were being used to feed mighty armies of cavalry. I knew this because I had built this empire from nothing- just on my computer, not with the blood of horsemen. \n", "Braaaaiiiiiiins.\n\nAh! What? What was that? Where am I? I'm... In my bedroom. It feels different, though. Somewhat cleaner. It has a very uncanny valley approach to it. Like this isn't really the world I belong to.\n\nBRAAAAAIIIIIINS.\n\nI know that sound. I've heard it a million times before. I walk over to the open window and look out to see what kind of hell I've found myself in.\n\nA zombie. Standing still in the middle of my lawn, wearing a tattered suit and tie. But just one? Well, that's easy enough. I've played plenty of zombie games before. This should be a piece of cake. I go to my closet and look for a weapon. Any kind of blunt object should be able to knock that son-of-a-bitch into next week. Aim for the head. Always a good start.\n\nWhat the hell is this? Fertilizer? Seeds? A watering can? I guess I could smash him over the head with...\n\nBraaaaains.\n\nI hear him start to shuffle towards the house. Now I know where I am. I always wondered how this would work in real life. I run downstairs and find an assortment of pots, seeds, watering cans, and gas tanks. I look in my garage and find several lawn mowers. My pool out back has waterproof vacuums. This should work out nicely.\n\nGoing to my fridge I see the contents clearly. Mushrooms. Tons of them. I'll need those later tonight. Lily pads soaking in water. They'll be helpful for my pool. I grab a rake, a shovel, sunflower seeds, a watering can, and run out back. The zombie is halfway to my house by now.\n\nI don't know how quickly this will work, but I need to be efficient. I throw the rake onto the lawn in the zombie's path. I dig a hole in the ground and plant a sunflower seed. I pour some water onto it and wait.\n\nThe zombie is inching closer. I can't fight him by myself, but I can set up some self-defense. I pull out a lawn mower and put it in front of the door, fill up the gas tank, and rev it up. It stays still, but doesn't shut off. Perfect.\n\nThe zombie finally approaches the door, reaches out to grab me...\n\nBraiiiiiiiins! POP.\n\nThe rake hits it in the head, taking it off completely. The zombie falls down. Phew. That was easy.\n\nA creaking sound is heard as the sunflower sprouts from the ground. A ray of sunshine comes down upon the sunflower as it looks up and smiles at me.\n\nBRAAAAAAAAAINS.\n\nThree more zombies have appeared. I pull out three pea shooter seeds from my pockets and pick up my shovel.\n\nI hope these plants can really stop zombies.", "\"Wh.. what is this place?\" I asked. But of course, I recognized it. I was on the rooftop of Princess Peach's castle. I shook my head and looked around. Somehow, I could jump pretty high so I did just that as I climbed the rooftop higher to get a better view of the other side of the roof. On the other side, I saw what looked to be a man-girl with a tiara wielding a rather large sword. \"Marth?\" I asked aloud. Marth turned around and said, \"Minna, miteite kure!\" Suddenly, he did a sort of sliding motion against the ground and jumped, raising his sword. I let out a shout as a hand reached out and gave me a bomb with legs and a face. I threw it straight at him. It exploded, and he was sent flying away into the stratosphere. I could hear him scream as I watched his flailing figure fade into the distance.\n\nI looked behind me to see who had given me the bomb. It was princess peach. She said, \"Hi!\" I could see that she was wearing red- the same color shirt I was wearing. Suddenly, everything went dark. I heard a booming voice chant, \"The winner is.. Red Team!\" Peach said, \"Ohhh, did I win?\" I looked around the black landscape and saw Marth clapping a few feet behind me. \n\nMatch time: 3:32. Game time left: 71:56:28.", "I woke up with my head throbbing. Each bump of the cart exacerbated my hangover exponentially. I recognized that my hands were bound when a fellow prisoner addressed me. He was a soldier assigned as a personal guard for his sovereign and we had front row seats to the execution.\n\nAnother prisoner would not stop complaining about how unfair this was and that he was innocent of the crimes in which we were all accused. He was going to die; I had seen it many times. I knew what was in store and stoically maintained my wits. As far as the other prisoners and my captors were aware, I accepted my fate. I didn't...\n\nThe rest if the game introduction had passed. It seemed much faster as I lived it, rather than waiting for the action to start. They executed the first prisoner. I almost vomited when I saw his head roll into the basket. The Imperial Officer called me forward. I walked slowly and stood at the chopping block before being forced to my knees. This would be the hardest part... My stomach clenched when the dragon attacked.\n\nThe prisoner from my wagon helped me to my feet and led me to safety. I knew the route by heart: run up the tower stairs, take cover, jump onto the thatched roof, cross the house, link up with one if my former captors. His priority is surviving the dragon and he did acknowledge that I was not on the slate for execution before his superior dictated it. He led me to safety from the dragon. I then had to choose between red and blue. I opted for the faction that did not have me one the chopping block.\n\nI let him lead me through Helgan Keep and the tunnels underneath, keeping my distance as he plows through the Imperials. I loot their corpses taking anything of value, as much as I can carry. He eventually leads me to the Town of Riverwood. I sell the loot, and then enact my genius plan to survive for three days of survival: I stay put.\n\nThe Sleeping Giant Inn has rooms for rent at 10 septums per night. I've been offered a short term job chopping firewood. The blacksmith has even offered to teach me his trade when I inquired. Hard days of labor, new skills and a cheap room. If my presence last longer than that, I might be in trouble, or not considering how much wood I can chop...", "\"Evif\" The voice was scratchy, and sounded like a chipmunk had a child with a chew toy. It was in my ear. It needed to not be. I was sleeping.\n\n\"Ruof\" It sounded like language, none I've ever heard. It placed the emphasis on all the wrong syllables. When did my bed get so short?\n\n\"Eerth\" I shouted at it to stop. It smelled like glue. Then I noticed my bed starting to rumble. Wait what the fuc-\n\n\"Owt\" I jolted upright, or tried, I was held down by straps, and in front of me sat an array of buttons and a big ball like device. I swear I could recognize it. It was important. The rumble turned into a roar.\n\n\"Eno\" NavBall! My head was promptly thrown back against the headrest.\n\nFuck I hope I remembered the god damned parachutes.\n\n(Kerbal Space Program)", "I opened my eyes and the first time I saw her, My heart beat so fast I thought it would explode. \n\nHer eyes were like sapphires, bright and entrancing. Her lips red as ruby, hair long and curled around her chin. A cute and perky nose. \n\nI knew I had to get her attention, impress this amazing woman, and make her mine. \n\nAll around me there was chaos and confusion. Noise, so much noise, hard to hear anything. \n\nDid I hear her call my name? In the confusion, I find something sharp. Maybe I can use it?\n\nEverything happens so quickly, now my beloved is drenched in liquid. I am embarrassed, I caused this. \n\nMy beloved turns to me and says \"Larry, what did I tell you?\"", "You are in a dark room, and you see text in front of you... \"You wake up and find you have suddenly been teleported to the last video game you played and must survive for the next 72 hours.\"\n\nYou sit there, praying that you played minecraft in your last gaming session....\n\nYou open the door. GTA V. Fuck...", "I wake in a strangely opulent double-bed, a bed I did not go to sleep in. The room around me looks like something out of the Sherlock Holmes TV-series, the old one of course. I get out of the bed, out of the bedroom and down the stairs. This place seems so oddly familiar, like I've been here before. What is that smell? Pancakes? I decide to the follow the smell and find the kitchen. A women dressed in what looks like a bunnysuit is eating pancakes next to a man dressed in a thong. I cautiously try to greet them. The woman looks up and says ''Gabba Gabba, Jo Den? Jiflar!'' What? That gibberish seems familiar, she simply points to the pancakes. I take a plate of pancakes and go to eat. They are delicious. I look outside the window and notice that the man in the thong is drowning in a pool and I finally recognize where I am.\n\nThis is the manor I built for my Sims in the Sims 3 in a Steam-Victorian style. This is going to be fun.", "A bright redness shines through my eyelids, and I try turning away, but a glass dome around my head prevents it. Startled, I open my eyes, momentarily blinded by a star's brilliance. I try to shield my face with my hand, but discover a heavy glove and armature restricts my movements. My vision clears, and I see...I see black, and little white points of light, like faraway stars. I try to turn around, but my squirming leads me to a far more startling discovery, I'm floating! I'm in space!! Panicked flailing leads to controls being set off, and the thruster pack I now feel on my back rockets me to my left, limbs trailing uselessly. I smudge my face into my helmet to see where I'm heading, and finally everything clicks. I mash the controls in my glove, and my backpack stops accelerating me towards certain doom. I'm still going too fast however, and as I scream through my final moments, rocketing towards a crashed red ship, I realized I could have turned on my inertial dampeners. Splat.", "The Sunless Sea shone black through the light of the oil-lamp.\n\nGod help us all. \n\nThough a man of the book, heavy with the understanding of the things that should not be, I was unprepared. \n\nMy iron in the fire, it proved weak for the environment I was in. God help us all.\n\nThey call me mad, you know. I speak to them about things like the \"internet\", of \"computers\". They only whisper, speaking to each other as if I have stared too long into the Dawn Machine. \n\nThank God for the small things. I have become a drunk, and a caffeine addict, welcome in the Khanate and little else. \n\nGod help my soul.", "Sirens blare from the deck as a plane rises from the interior, I find myself strapped into the cockpit as a voice comes through the headset, it says that I am clear for take off. Hardly. Filling my lungs, I firmly grasp the controls and rocket upwards towards the ivory ceiling above, leveling off as my wing leaves small puffs in its wake. I stare out into the yellow tinted sky, small tufts obscuring the otherwise fair view. The sun gleams magnificently across the water as heavy slugs pierce the undercarriage, returning my focus to the events at hand.\n\n“What happened?” I yell into the microphone hoping for some response.\n\n“You have several hostiles coming in hot, watch out for their shots, the plane won't take many.” the base responds.\n\n“Oh really?! Any more pearls of wisdom?” I respond as several more shots narrowly miss the plane.\n\n“Well, it would be easier to take them out if you could get them in a group, up close. You won't have as much luck if you're trying to take them all out one by one.” the commander responds, taking over the communication line.\n\n“I think I've got an idea, wish me luck.” I say, exhaling and driving the plane into a sharp dive for the glimmering water below.\n\n“Godspeed.” he responds.\n\nSeveral bandits follow close behind, falling into a steep dive to keep up with my unreasonable maneuvers. The speed of my descent sends waves in opposing directions from the nose, as I pull upward into an impossible climb touching the surface by mere inches. Continuing the insane climb, I glance backward to see that one plane has succumb to the sea and takes another along with it. Even more impressive are the ones who have managed to remain on my tail, firing the occasional shot that misses spectacularly.\n\nRacing towards the clouded ceiling, I simply let go and stall. Falling out of the sky, my enemies race past directly into my sights. Pulling the trigger, my guns fill them full of shrapnel as they explode like fireworks in the sky. Cheers and commendations ring out from the headset as the plane levels once more under my control. I can't help but laugh and cheer that my bold strategy was successful as I live to fight another day.\n\n“Careful, there's a large bogey ahead on the water's surface. We have no visual confirmation of its identity or status. Assume it is hostile. I repeat, assume it is hostile.” the base instructs.\n\nNodding my head in confirmation, I bring the plane low, leaving a wake behind as I destroy one small ship after another, taking little fire in return. Shortly after, a massive metal ship appears in my view, I pull up to avoid the hail of fire sent my way. It continues firing, two streams of massive shots zooming past my craft until they hit. First one, then another, and several more. My plane begins to smoke and catch fire as I fight to retain control and leave in one piece. Escaping just beyond range, my plane recovers much to my surprise.\n\n“Er, Commander?” I question.\n\n“Yes, what is it?” he responds.\n\n“My plane has been hit by the battleship, it nearly tore my plane to shreds. Somehow, it seems...fine...now?” I retort uncertainly.\n\n“It's our newest technology, pilot. If you keep your plane dry, at a reasonable height, and do not tax it by running your firing systems, it should self-heal in a few minutes or more depending on the damage.” he replies with a great deal of pride.\n\n“That is...amazing!” I cry as I make another pass for the hulking battleship, guns pulsing along the way.\n\n“Yes pilot. We know.” he says before closing the communication line once more.\n\nRiddling the hull with shells, the ship continues firing as I narrowly swerve between shots to avoid taking damage. The ship looks unharmed from the bullet storm that is raining down upon it and my frustration mounts as another pass seems to have little added effect. Leaving the ship in the distance, it suddenly explodes into a marvelous fireball as a large aircraft seemingly floats into sight. My heart stops as cannon-like blasts emanate from the strange object, aiming directly for me.\n\nThe engine roars as I put distance between it and myself, destroying small planes and boats along the way. It continues the assault from below, hovering in place with its guns pointed to the skies. Jerking the controls, I throw my plane into a spin and land several shots before pointing forwards and blasting away. My only hope is a war of attrition, with its heavy firepower and durability, it would easily survive a fight with twelve planes of my size. I continue to chip away until it begins showing signs of wear, finally circling it like a bird of prey stalking a wounded animal. Shards erupt from the ragged frame falling into the waters below.\n\n“Good work, pilot. Your work is done he-Wait, what?” the commander speaks before turning his attention to another on board. “Are you certain? Pilot. I have very grave news. There is a vessel of unimaginable proportions rising in the distance. We can't identify it because it doesn't fit on the radar. Not in one piece. Be careful, return safe. Godspeed.” the commander replies solemnly.\n\nAn enormous vessel parts the white sea above and descends just in view, before I can react, several streams of fire erupt from its mounted guns. With a series of well timed stops and bursts of speed, I navigate through the veil, returning fire of my own. It begins launching missiles that lock on to my plane as I drag them to the watery deep. The pilots of this enormous vessel have called in additional support from battleships, jets and the cannon aircraft alike. The sun rises on the third day, the seventy-second hour as my ship is pummeled from all sides.\n\n“Sir, I don't think I'm going to make it back.” I say, choking back tears.\n\n“We will always remember you, LuftRauser.” he responds, their salute reaching through the headset as my heart swells with pride.\n\nI make one final push to bring the enormous dirigible in sight and wait for the final shot. As it rips through my plane, I scream the name I will always be remembered by. The final weapon at my disposal detonates, an enormous blast follows irradiating and disintegrating all foes. I am the LuftRauser.\n\n-021", "It was war. Gunfire going in every direction, death from every angle. We had homefield advantage, endless tree cover, and even beasts of men on our sides, but it never seemed like we were even putting a dent in the enemy forces. We had snipers, demolition, hell, we were always told to strike back just as they did. It seemed like an endless battle and we just kept fighting.\n\nI was told that my sentence to this hell would only last 72 hours along the battlefront, as the sun was setting, I hit 71. I was almost home-free. Like a fool, I began to relax, my body calming at the thought of leaving. The once lush, green forest was now dyed red and littered with corpses. The enemy seemed to retreat, their numbers looked to be thinning. My radio buzzed claims of victory. It was almost over. Behind me, though, I heard screaming. Something broke our lines. Terror-filled cries for help echoed from behind me and were silenced just as quickly as they were made. Before I could move, the monster stood behind me, casting a shadow as black as his soul. His heavy, yet rhythmic panting was almost drowned out by the electronic hum of his weapon. I turned to meet his skully visage. Just before the 72nd hour, he found me, and raised his hand to strike me down.\n\nVader...", "My phone rings and I stagger out of bed towards it. But it's not where I remember putting it, and instead of my apartment, I find myself on a bed in an apartment I've never seen before. Strange. But I know this ringtone, I know it well. It's the Steel Samurai theme. My ringtone isn't that, I can barely change my ringtone, let alone download one. So this isn't my phone. But it is. So I wander towards the noise, taking in the apartment around me. On the wall is a picture I recognise. A man I recognise. Phoenix Wright. Picking up my phone, I hear a familiar voice.\n\n\"Hey Nick, why'd you take a century to answer your phone\"\n\nAll I can do is improvise.\n\n\"What do you want?\" I say, aggressive, and grumpy.\n\n\"Get your butt down to the office, we've got a new case!\" She says and I can hear her grin.\n\n\"Who is it this time?\"\n\n\"Take a wild guess.\"\n\n\"Larry?\" She makes a noncommittal noise in return.\n\nSo I leave the apartment, knowing the next however many days won't have that music I adore, or a save feature. But hey, I'm Phoenix fucking Wright, and I'm gonna love this.", "I closed my eyes. This couldn't be happening.\n\nThe phenomenon first started several months ago - people, usually gamers, started disappearing. They were sometimes honored with npcs modeled after them; The problem was that no dev remembered coding them in.\n\nThe NPCs were indistinguishable from their former selves, and many regarded it as a sort of afterlife. Most people began playing their favorite games obsessively - difficult ones, oftentimes, were ignored. Nobody wanted to face the Zerg, or deal with the Covenant.\n\nAs I examined my new surroundings, I determined that I'd seriously fucked up.\n\n\n On 1/21/2015, at 1:24 PM, John wrote:\n> Hey dude, Dark Souls 2 is on sale. You gonna pick it up?\n\n On 1/21/2015, at 1:28 PM, John wrote:\n> Hello?", "\"Y'all going from the west coast to the east coast!\" Said a voice that sounded oddly familiar. While the voice spoke 'switching sides' appeared in large text in front of me. \n\nDamn, I thought, I had a really good spot, too. Now I have to find a new one. \n\nWhen I spawned in I looked to my left to see the other 5 guys holding a variety of military grade weapons. I had the biggest but it was alright because I didn't plan on using it on anyone, unless they run by me that is. The timer ticked down to zero and my teammates ran out into the battle field. I turned around, walked straight into the corner and put my back to it and waited. This worked for the last 60 hours, it should work for the rest of the time I'm here. ", "“This is the story of a man named Stanley.”\n\nWha? Who’s talking? Who’s Stanley? It’s 6AM.\n\n“Stanley tried to roll over and go back to sleep but found that he could not due to the arms on his chair.”\n\nThere’s that voice again… what chair I’m—\n\n“Stanley woke up with a start from his short nap to find that it was all just a dream and he was in his office.”\n\nWhat the hell happened to my room! Where is this voice coming from?\n\n“Stanley attempted to speak but found that he could not because the developers couldn’t afford a voice actor for his character.”\n\nWhat’s going on! He’s right I can’t talk. Who is narrating everything I do?\n\n“Stanley looked around his office a little to get his bearings, but he quickly came to his senses and got up from his desk and stepped out of his office.”\n\nWait… I didn’t get out of my chair yet… is… is he telling me what to do? This is like that game I just got last night…\n\n“-ahem- I SAID Stanley got up from his desk and stepped out of his office.”\n\nShit shit shit! I only played for like 20 minutes, and every time I tried something I died! What’s going on?\n\n“Helloooooo Stanley? Are you there?”\n\nOh god, I remember this. If I wait too long he’ll change something and I’ll die. That voice has some control of this world… but I can’t go out or I’ll die there as well! No… what if I just close the door.\n\n“But Stanley just couldn’t handle the pressure. He’d be facing the possibility of being fired by his boss for leaving his post during work hours. What if a crucial outcome fell upon his responsibility? What if he had to make a decision? He had never been trained on that! No, this couldn’t go in any way except badly.”\n\nOh god what’s he going on about? I can’t move what’s happening.\n\n“The right thing to do right now, Stanley thought to himself, is to wait. Nothing will hurt me. Nothing will break me. In here, I can be happy, forever I will be happy.”\n\n\nIs it getting darker? Oh oh good maybe I can go back just close my eyes…\n\n“Stanley waited. Hours passed. Then days. Have years gone by? He no longer had the ability to tell. But the one thing that was sure beyond any doubt was that if he waited long enough, the answers would come. Soon. Very soon now, this will end…”\n\nYES! End this. Get me out of here. I don’t want to be in this game. Oh god why couldn’t I have played Call of Duty or something last night, I’m good at CoD…\n\n“He will be spoken to, he will be told what to do. Now it’s just a bit closer…”\n\nyes…\n\n“Now it’s even closer…”\n\ncome on…\n\n“Here it comes.”\n\nI want to be in my room. I want to be in my room…\n\n“This is the story of a man named Stanley.”\n\nAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH\n\n> The Stanley Parable", "I could have been playing anything, I thought wiping the sweat off again. It's non stop and relentless work, work, work. \n\n\nThe only break comes when I go outside, and then it is a mad scramble for food. I was out after dark yesterday and i started to hear the moans. \n\n\nI guess there could have been worse games to be playing and get teleported into, but damn living in Minecraft can be boring.\n ", "My companion's eyes widened. He stood up and took a single step forward.\n\nI thrust out an arm in his path. \"No!\" I said firmly.\n\nHe pushed past my arm. Drool started to drop from his mouth. He licked his chops with anticipation.\n\nI stood directly in front of him, and flung both arms forward. \"No!\" I desperately repeated.\n\nHe pushed me to the ground and walked right over me, spattering my face with drool as he went.\n\nI stood up and pursued him, but it was too late.\n\nAlready, he was atop the massive tower of candy. His face was smeared with chocolate, his belly bulging, and his mouth overflowing with caramel.\n\n\"Slow down,\" I insisted. \"You'll give yourself a horrific tummy ache.\"\n\n\"It's alright, Brain,\" he said between bites. \"If I eat three of the same candy in a row, it disappears. See?\"\n\nHe grabbed another caramel and popped it in his mouth, and swallowed. Instantly, the bulge in his belly decreased, and several more candies rained down on his head.\n\n\"See Brain, I'm winning!\" he cheered.\n\nI shook my head. Why does Pinky always have to do this to me?\n\n\"Pinky!\" I lectured. \"Why did you have to activate the Digital Simulation Vortex? I told you to wake me up when it was done charging. And why in the world did you choose Candy Cruncher Legend?\"\n\nHe sang a little tune about candy, and started unwrapping a chocolate coin.\n\n\"I mean, we could have gone into Space Civilizations and researched laser weaponry and faster than light travel!\" I said. \"Or we could have gone into Sum of All Wars and studied military strategy from the greatest minds in history!\"\n\nHe licked chocolate off his fingers. His bulging belly reduced, and he was showered with chewy fruit drops.\n\n\"Or at least we could have gone into an old Lightning the Aardvark cartridge and been in a game that's actually fun to play, rather than a grab for cash cunningly disguised as a test of skill,\" I opined. \n\nFour hard peppermint candies rained down on Pinky.\n\n\"Ouch! Narf! Poit! Troz!\" he exclaimed.\n\nHe tumbled off the tower, sliding down an avalanche of candy. The mints flashed and disappeared of their own accord, and were quickly replaced by a line of strawberry drops. These, too vanished.\n\nPinky’s eyes glazed over as he watched the tower of candy flash brightly.\n\n“Crunchereffic!” a booming voice announced.\n\n“Crunchereffic?” I queried. “What does that even mean?”\n\n“It means we won!” said Pinky gleefully. “Now we’re back to the map, to choose another level!”\n\nSure enough, the tower disappeared altogether, leaving us at an intersection of two graham cracker crumb roads lined with lollipops.\n\n“Now that way is Chocolate Castle,” he said, pointing helpfully at the massive chocolate castle about fifty feet away from us. “Over there is the Gumdrop Forest, and thataway is Candy Mountain, guarded by the mean old Chester the Unicorn. What level you want to play now, Brain?”\n\n“You can go away and gorge yourself on whatever level you want,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll just wait here for you at the crossroads, and plan for 71 hours and 55 minutes from now.”\n\n“Okay,” he said. “More candy for me, then. So what are you doing in 71 hours and 55 minutes?”\n\n“Same thing we do every night, Pinky,” I intoned. “Try to take over the world!”\n\n", "I slowly lean up from my lain position, a stiff feeling echoing through my back and shoulders. It's dark. Cold. .. Really damn cold. My hands skim across my body, coming to the conclusion that I am in fact naked save for my underwear. I push myself up off of the cold stone floor, noticing a gentle singing sound in the distance. It's actually quite beautiful. \n\nI feel.. drawn, to it, in fact. I take a step forward to pursue the singing only to smash my toe into an unseen object.\n\n\"BLOODY F...\" I bite my lip to stifle the curse; I promised my girlfriend that i'd lower my naughty word usage. I look down, swinging my hand around to see what I hit.\n\nA light erupts from where I was, and scramble backwards from the sudden burst of fire. It appears to be.. a sword? In a small bone pile?..\n\n.. Oh.\n\nThis is totally Dark Souls 2.\n\nMy eyes flash to an item next to the fire; a rucksack. I know as a fact that i'll need a weapon, so this better have one. I open the rucksack and empty the contents near the fire to get a better look.\n\n7 Estus flasks, a trident, and a clown mask.\n\nWhy me?", "On the 20th night of January, I fell asleep in my bed in my small, 2 bedroom house on a dull street in an average city in rainy England. On the 21st day, the first thing that hit me as I woke up was the strong scent of salt water. I'm sat on the beach, still in my underwear, looking out at the ocean, wondering just where in the fuck I am. I hadn't been drinking, I'm religiously against drugs, and I distinctly remember the last sips of the decaf tea going down my throat, as I put down my copy of 1984 and turned out the lights for the night. I was definitely falling asleep in my house, and I was definitely waking up on a beach that, for some reason, was directly adjacent to a barren, snow-covered wasteland. \n\nThe sea was an amazing sight, but you could use my nipples to cut through diamonds. I had to get moving, I had to escape the sea chill and the winter air. I needed answers. Turning around, I noticed a lone, snow covered tree, standing tall and proud. From what I could see, it represented the only other form of life in this tundra. \n\nPushing myself up from the golden beach, I headed towards the tree. My head was pounding, as though it had taken most of the impact when I seemingly landed on the beach. If anything, maybe this tree would provide some sort of shelter from the wind. As my vision started to focus, I could make out unevenness in the land. Ever so slight hills, the odd valley or two. I needed to watch my footing, because I had also spied an opening to a ravine. I was walking on hollow land. \n\nI arrived at the tree, teeth louder than the thoughts inside my head. \n\n\"Alright, dickbrain, now what?\" \n\nI needed to calm down. Everything was fine, I was fine, the world around me was fine, it's going to be okay. I just needed to sit down against the trunk of this tree. At least I had some minor protection from the elements. I sat down, and let my head roll against the bark. As I did, I could feel the wood of the bark splitting. Did I do that? I knocked my head backwards once more, and this time I heard the split. Damn it! Of course, the only form of relative shelter was a rotting tree that could fall down and crush me to death at any moment. Then again, I suppose that'll be a faster way to go than freezing to death. Still, it would've been nice to know where I am. I've never been to Iceland, or any of the Nordic countries, maybe I've been kidnapped and sent here. The terrain is relatively flat. I can see the inhabited areas of this land being filled with cyclists. There's something not quite right about it all though, ignoring the fact that I'm sat under a rotting tree in my underpants, freezing my bollocks off. Everything is too uniform, too outlined, and too, too... \n\nHang on. I've seen that hill before. I've seen that cave opening before. This isn't happening. This isn't real. I'm still dreaming. I'm not here. I stood up slowly, turning around to face the tree. It's cracks disappeared as soon as I brought my head away from the bark. The dark, brown, square bark.\n\nI hit the spot where my head rested. The crack reappeared, and disappeared in the same breath. \n\nNo\n\nI hit it again, twice this time. \n\nThis is crazy \n\nI hit 5 times. The crack got bigger with each blow, yet as soon as I stopped, it healed itself. \n\nI'm crazy \n\nI hit it 8 times in repeat succession, following the final punch with a fall to my knees and covering my head with my arms, waiting to be crushed by the tree that absolutely, undeniably, should have fallen. \n\nShould have fallen. \n\nI knew what I was about to see, yet I was still slow to draw my head from under my arms. Directly in front of me was a small wooden block, slowly and continuously turning, never quite coming into contact with the snow. I picked it up, and studied it intensely. This wasn't real. I was dreaming. This doesn't happen. \n\nThe tree stood solid. I could see the beach and the ocean through the gaping hole that my blows had left. \n\nMineCraft. ", "I've pretty much figured out my best route. Stay here for a while, move to wherever the action is least happening, and keep an eye out for passerbys. All I need to do is keep it together. It shouldn't be much longer...should it? Suddenly, I hear a child's voice...\n\n\"Have you seen my bear Tibbers?\" she asks. I nearly jump out of my skin. Her innocent eyes stare at me waiting for an answer. I sit there, mouth open, unable to move. I'm frozen in fear.\n\nFuck, I've been discovered...\n\n\"Mister\" she repeats \"Have you seen my bear Tibbers?\" I didn't know what to say.\n\n\"Erm..is...is that it in your hand?\" I manage to stumble out. I could see she was becoming impatient with me. Her face turned to one of anger. For such a small girl, she certainly knew how to scare the absolute crap out of me.\n\n\"MISTER...HAVE YOU\" her voice was cut short.\n\n\"DEMACIAAAAAAAAAAA!!!\"\n\nA large man full bodied in armour came tearing into the shrub where the little girl and I were. His massive sword was held high above his head like a weapon of the gods and he brought it down on top of the girl. I shrieked like a child. She fell down hard onto the ground knocking me down with her. Blood pouring from her arm, she looked sideways at me and winked. I was stunned. She jumped out and raised her arms in the air at the large armoured man, and suddenly out of what appeared to be absolutely nowhere, a gigantic bear dropped from the sky crushing the man on the spot. His armour was completely destroyed, and his limbs were mangled under the giant bear's weight.\n\n\"Tibbers!\" she scremed excitedly. The bear started pounding away at the armoured man as he struggled to his feet to fight off the beast. He was losing the fight and decided to surrender. Bloodied and weak, he stumbled away spinning his sword around him in a circular motion, to which the bear retreated back to its apparent little girl owner. I pulled myself back to my feet and the girl eyed me sideways.\n\n\"You like my bear?\" she giggled.\n\n\"Uhh yeah, he's...great\" was all I could say. With that, she skipped away into the forest of this mysterious place followed by her gigantic companion, dropping splats of blood from her encounter on the ground as she bounced away.\n\n\"Jesus christ...what a freaky place\" I whispered to myself.\n\nAs the girl disappeared I noticed something peculiar. The brush right next to me... RIGHT NEXT TO ME WHERE I WAS.... started moving as if something were there standing here with me.\n\nWhat the fuck...?\n\nSlowly but surely, a stout little creature materialized right before me. He was tiny, maybe only a few feet tall, with a large mushroom like hat on carrying a blowdart. He looked up at me and in his squeaky little voice said \"Watch your step, there are mushrooms around\".\n\nMushrooms? What?\n\nHe turned to the direction the little girl headed and started sprinting after her. Moments later all I could hear were the girl's screams and a sound which I assume was here bear falling onto the ground. The little creature came scurrying back past me running like the wind. He paused mid-run and I heard him distinctly laughing \"Nyahahaha!\" and continue running. I turned to see what was chasing him to see a flurry of arrows come screaming through the trees and almost take my head off. I dropped immediately and hid myself. Chasing the creature was a beautiful woman carrying a large bow with a crown on her head.\n\nMy god..she's beautiful...\n\nShe fired a beam of bright light past me that went over my head and lit up the brush I was sitting in. She suddenly skipped to a halt and aimed her bow at me. I backed off with a look of horror on my face. Please don't kill me. She lowered her bow and turned to chase the creature. I could still hear the cheeky little thing in the distance \"Nyaahaaha^Nyaahaahaa^Nyaahaahaa^\".\n\nAfter a while, all was quiet again. I moved back to my safe spot near the colossal creature I had woken up next to. \n\nBaron was his name, or so that's what I heard the fighters of this forest call it. I knew after the explosion every time I was safe from danger here for a short while, but I would need to move to a safer spot later for this place will become very dangerous soon. My rest time...it's all I have...\n" ]	23
	[WP] Tell me a story that at first seems simple and straightforward, but actually has a deep, subtly underlying message.	[ "I stared at the clock on the microwave still lost for words. I mean, I knew she would be back eventually. I was still thinking about what I really wanted to say to her. We had just gotten into a heated argument about chores and shit. This was kind of a cyclical thing in our relationship. We would spike up and down. After most every fight we would always chill out and things would get back to normal. This fight had been about chores but the reality was it was about something else. My wife wanted kids but I wasn't in a rush. Frankly, I was afraid of time. I mean, I had a job and work, how was I supposed to be a father? My dad was never there for me, when I was growing up. I didn't want to be like him. It was turning late, I was just having trouble with the waiting. I wanted my phone to ring and for my wife to tell me she was coming home. I had a lot to say to her. When the phone finally rang I was so happy, but that didn't last as I heard an unfamiliar voice tell me to sit down and that there had been an accident. Now I'm just sitting alone in this empty house and I've got all the time in the world.", "He holds up the piece of artwork in front of me with a grin on his face. At first I’m not even sure what it is. I finally realize that it’s supposed to be some kind of abstract take on the sunset. Surely, if this were to be hanging in a museum, I would think I had accidentally stumbled into the ‘modern art’ section and quickly stumbled right back out. \n\n\n\nThe seconds are ticking by and I realize that each second I spend without answering is another second of doubt and worry that will likely build up in him. I am the first person he has shown this to. I am his only verification of whether or not it is a worthy piece of art. I wish at that moment that he’d shown it to anyone else, anywhere else, first. I wish I could explain that it’s not his art I don’t like; it’s the entire genre. \n\n\n\nI debate between giving my honest answer or giving him something a little more encouraging. I can’t tell whether or not my honest answer will make him pursue something he might be better at, or whether my encouraging answer help carry him through the struggle all artists have until they reach some kind of acclaim. \n\n\n\nIt takes me to long to decide, but he’s getting the answer that I think is best. I hope it is the best, because I know that his future, in a way, hangs in the balance of my answer. \n", "“It’s a rotting dead piece of wood,” Mr. Brown spat, “what am I to do with this?” The boy cringed at the sight of the red faced, wrinkled and balding man. He took a small step back, remaining out of arms reach and attempting the look of a meek, little mouse. “It’s a present.” He said, softly, “from a Mr. Leon Porter. He said I had to bring it to you today.”\n\n“Well tell him I don’t have need for it. Bring it back to him. I’m busy.” Mr. Brown handed the tree back to the boy. The tree was half the size of the boy and was actually a carved, wooden stump with wire branches. Green twine was wrapped around the branches and small, red ornaments were glued in random spots near the top.\n\n“I’m sorry, sir, I cannot return this to him,” the boy replied, “He’s dead.”\n\nThe room was quiet for a moment, the old man seemed to be lost in a thought. After a few seconds he asked the boy, “Did Leon tell you why he needed you to bring this to me?”\n\n“No, well kind of,” said the boy. “Mr. Porter, he umm, had trouble thinking. He said, he told me that he needed to return a favor and that I had to help him. This tree. That’s all I know.”\n\nMr. Brown sighed, sitting back into his chair. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you this, but Leon was a friend a long time ago, but not anymore.” His face went from soft to stone. “Anyhow, just throw it out then.”\n\n“Alright,” replied the boy. He grabbed the tree and left.\n\nHaving no use for it, the boy tossed the tree near an alley on his walk him. Shortly thereafter a young, well dressed couple enter the alley.\n\n“I don’t know why on earth women wear shoes like these. I’m literally dying from the pain.” The woman said. Her companion grinned slightly, rolling his eyes while the woman removed the shoes and tossed them, quite furiously, down the alley.\n\nAs the shoes went over a pile a rubble there was a sound of shattering glass. “Now look what you’ve done,” the woman said, glaring at her partner while he just shrugged. She went to retrieve the shoes and noticed the stiletto point had punctured an ornament on a raggedy looking, fake Christmas tree.\n\nShe picked up her shoe and noticed a folded piece of paper stuck to the bottom. Her partner walked over as she unfolded the paper and read it:\n\n_\n\nJoe Brown,\n\nWhat we had meant nothing. You had a wife and I was a widow with a child. We were both stupid. Love, affection, it’s nothing. You proved that when you said those words, “I cannot love you.” Well I’m dying soon. The only memories I can hold on to now are these. That I lived, I loved, I was lied to, and I died, first inside and soon physically. And it was all you. All you. I’m so angry.\n\nIn a different world I could tell you that I’m scared. I’m scared to leave this place not having found love. What if it’s only darkness past the white light unless you’ve found some sort of connection? What if you’ve doomed me to an eternity of non-existence or worse, forever feeling your absence.\n\nI’m scared. Please remember me now that I’m dead. Please. It’s all I have left.\n\nYours forever,\n\nLeon\n\n_\n\nJoe returned home that night, waiting a few minutes in the car to compose himself. He didn’t want to see his wife, didn’t want her to see into his heart and wonder why there was sorrow there. He had to go in sometime though, so he left his car and put on a fake smile.\n\n“Hello, honey,” he said, closing the front door behind him. The room seemed dark and there was no response. He sighed with relief, thinking she must have stayed late at work. He worked his way upstairs to the bed room. After removing his coat and hanging it on the rack, he sat on the bed. He loosened his tie and just thought for a few minutes.\n\n_\n\nThat tree. That night he first met Leon. He looked so cold sitting in the alley. Something deep inside Joe had been hit hard, it was like nothing he had ever felt before. He stopped the car and approached the man.\n\n“You look cold.” Joe said.\n\n“Eh, it’s not too bad. At least I have. . .“ The man didn’t finish, just stared into the sky as if in thought.\n\n“Well it’s not safe out here. Let’s get you somewhere warm.”\n\n_\n\nThey went to a nearby coffee shop to talk. That’s where Leon explained how he lost his wife. That he had never really loved a woman, but the pressure. Karen was special; she deserved more. So he told her. She got the kid, the car, the house, everything.\n\nIt all spiraled out of control from there for Leon. In his depression he lost his job and his will to live. How could he start again at this age? There are no fresh starts for old men.\n\nJoe eventually put Leon up in an extended stay motel. He hid the whole thing from his wife because of the money and because good deeds are better kept a secret.\n\n_\n\nOn the following Christmas, Leon had no one. Joe snuck away the day before Christmas Eve. He told Leon this would be their day. They built a small Christmas tree together out of carved wood, wire, and some old ornaments. It was that night that Leon made a move on Joe and Joe had to explain.\n\n“I love you, Leon. I really do. But this is not something that can happen between us.”\n\n“Oh okay.” Leon replied. It seemed to be the end of that.\n\n_\n\nBut things got worse from there. Leon started following him to work sometimes, watching. Writing strange letters. There were some calls to the house with no one on the line, probably Leon. He even followed Joe and his wife out on a date. That was the last straw.\n\nWhen he went to meet Leon it went very strangely. Leon barely made any sense. He talked about destiny and angels. He said Joe was his soul mate, that they were to become one and change the world. He cautioned Joe about his wife, that she was a devil intent on destroying the plan.\n\nJoe did the best he could to end it right there. He told Leon he could no longer support him financially. He tried to convince him to seek help and offered to take him to a hospital. Leon declined and Joe left.\n\n_\n\nSitting on the bed all these memories warred in his mind. There was something about Leon that really broke Joe’s heart and to see his life spiral out like that, to see him fall into the grip of mental illness was completely heartbreaking. Joe began to sob uncontrollably into his pillow.\n\nThen there was a rustling sound and Joe looked up. His wife stood in the darkened hallway with a strange look on her face and a paper in her hand.\n\n“We need to talk, Joe.” Lydia said, throwing the paper down on Joe’s lap. Included was a picture of Joe and Leon together.\n\nJoe went from sorrow to shock. “What is this?”\n\n“You tell me!” she responded angrily. “Susan found this on her walk home. What the hell is it? What the hell is it, Joe!?”\n\nJoe picked up the letter and begun to read. His heart sank deeper with each word, tears falling down his face.\n\n“I can’t do this right now” he said, trying to convey everything with just the look in his eyes. “Please, give me some time. I promise I can explain all of this to you later.” They stared for a moment and she nodded.\n\nHe took the car out on some back roads and parked. He reclined his seat and screamed and sobbed and had moments of complete silence and nothingness. Eventually he fell asleep.\n\n_\n\nThe next day he met with his wife in a secluded coffee shop. Joe explained for hours what had happened. Confessed that he had been using money to help Leon. He explained the stalking and the delusions.\n\nAfter he was done he stared in her eyes for what seemed like forever. He could see her processing. And then, after eternity, her face softened and he could see trust return in her eyes.\n\nHe could tell, just from that penetrating glare, that she also understood the depth of sorrow he felt for his friend. He felt a deepening respect from her towards him, it wrapped him like a warm blanket. He knew, though the road was tough, they would now be stronger for this.\n", "Hi, my name is Buster. My best friend in the world was a loving feline by the name of Mittens. We would often rampage around the house; depending on the day this would make our owners happy or angry. Mittens always enjoyed taking naps after our play sessions, and that day a few weeks ago was no different. I decided to take a nap as well and ended up sleeping deep through the night. When I woke up I could sense my owners' sadness, but I couldn't understand why.\n\nOh well, time to wreck havoc with Mittens. Wait, where is she? Her typical spot on the radiator is vacant. I know! What about under the bed? Hmm, not there either. In the closet? Mittens... MITTENS? Where has my best friend gone? \n\nIt's been three weeks since then. I still can smell her on the couch and in her old places but the memories are starting to fade. My owners showed up with a new feline today and although she seems nice enough I just want Mittens back. Where did you go, my rampaging buddy?\n\n(First time doing a WP, criticism welcome!)", "As my father did 30 years earlier, I was showing my son how to blow bubbles for the first time. Once you have the hang of it, it's pretty simple, but, every one, has trouble blowing them at first. \n\nEffort and concentration are the key. That's what I told him as he was spitting awkwardly on the bubble stick. I smiled as I showed him again how to do it. \n\nHe blew a lot of bubbles, some required more effort than others, but he loved every second of it. Up until we rant out of bubble soap. He pleaded for more, but just like a bubble ends up popping, you must accept some things come to an end.\n\nAnd we were just on time, his mother had just arrived to pick him up for the week. I let him go, pleading for more in silence." ]	5
	[WP] In order to to unlock your DNA and have children you must first pass a test.	[ "Today was the day - the day that I'd receive my DNA unlock. Others had gone through the process of having it unlocked illegally, or in some cases, through \"favors\". I wasn't like that though. If I had to do something, I wanted to do it the most obvious, most legal way. Maybe it was my common sense, maybe it was my fear of the law. As I made my way to the office which handled DNA unlocked, my heart leaped with joy. If everything went well, I could have children with Jay, the love of my life. \n I reached the office. It was a large thing, with white walls, and large windows overlooking the plaza which other city service buildings saw as well. They all had a flame painted on front; homage to the Fire Knights, the men who had saved us from utter annihilation. Legends say that these Fire Knights had the ability to manipulate fire - maybe, maybe not. All I knew was that they were famous for casting shields of fire when the army had sent in everything they had to reclaim a precious, alien relic. It stood in the center of the plaza, and it glowed. No one knew how it worked, or even, what it did. \n I cast everything from my mind, and walked into the office. It had gleaming white floors, and blue walls. Seats surrounded tables, and several of them held groups of poker players. I ignored these men, and walked up to the desk. \"Yes sir?\", a secretary asked me as I cleared my throat. \n \"I'd like to apply to get my DNA unlocked, as I'm 21.\", I stated, pulling out my birth certificate. \n I handed it to the secretary, who looked at it, and typed something into her computer. It pinged, and she handed it back. \"Wait at one of the tables until we call you.\" \n I nodded, and walked over to a table. There was an empty seat, and one of the players - a small, scrawny stick of a man got up, and pulled me into one of the seats. \"Want to play?\", he asked, and I nodded. \n Hell, if I was going to wait, why not play some cards. I began playing cards with the other players, and the time slowly passed. \n \"Mr. Palon, come to the desk.\", a electronic voice stated. I got up, recognizing my name, and walked over to the desk. The secretary wrapped a band around my hand, and signalled me to the door. It opened as I walked to it, and then my vision darkened. I felt as if though I were being dragged through nothing - until I fell. I scrambled to my feet, fearful of the monstrous forces that had pulled me. I recalled sermons my parents had sent me to. A fat, balding priest, who looked like he had had never seen the magic of soap had stated that the men who ran the city were aliens from space - a possibility that was sinking into my mind. Suddenly, I heard a voice in my head. Hello, Maxwell Palon. You have completed the first step of testing. To complete the second stage, you must cast fire, and prove to us that you have the ability to manipulate fire, and make objects pyrophoric. the voice said. \n My eyes widened. Who had just said that? A small image of a man flickered in front of me - the mayor. He began to walk towards me, and his image had flickered again. I gasped, looking at the rotting flesh on the skeleton that was advancing towards me. I closed my eyes, and felt intense heat flow over my body - and then an explosion. I opened my eyes again, and now white light was flowing in. The newly revealed wall in front of me contained a huge, smoking hole, from which the light originated. I ran towards it, away from the ghastly image of the mayor and the demonic forces that lurked in the darkness. I jumped through the jagged edges, and found myself in a pathway. I heard alarms, footsteps, and then a prick in my neck. I breathed in, and then collapsed, having been claimed by the demonic forces that lurked in the city.", "A metallic door slides open. I walk into a room that was without walls. A plain, white chair sat in the middle. I've been told that everyone's room is different. No one knows for sure though, it's forbidden to speak about the Test to others. \nThe Voice fills into the room, \"Welcome Viktor.\" My forehead's perspiration glands kick in. It's the same prerecorded voice that they use for the teachers at school. Gender-less, robotic it reverberates through the room. \"Please take a seat. Your test will begin shortly.\" I take my place in the chair. A small podium with a touch screen emerges from the floor in front of me. \"You will have 20 minutes to complete 200 multiple choice questions. Begin.\"\n\nFrozen, I sit motionless \"200 questions\" echoes in my cranium. My heart is pulsing; my lungs are breathless. \"16 minutes remaining,\" I feel my hand twitch up and it starts answer questions. My eyes scan through the questions and I tap the best option without putting in another thought. As I round off the 50th question the voice comes back on \"5 minutes remaining.\"\n\nI'm taken over by something. I begin shredding through questions without even reading them. I'm at the 170th questions when the voice plays \"1 minute remaining, please stay seated once the test is over.\" Tears fill my field of vision as I keep trying to power through. My parents aren't going to have any grand-kids. Liz is gonna be devastated, I don't know if she will be able to handle it. The screen freezes as I answer the 190th question. The podium deceases back into the floor. \"Please wait while we compute your score.\" I begin to grow light headed. The floor meets my head as I slip out of the seats not seeing anything but water in front of me. It all goes black.", "Today was the day. As I walked up to the steps of the clinic and the largely featureless building loomed over me I began to get a little nervous. Two years ago at 18 I’d passed my driving test and I hadn’t felt nearly as nervous as I was now. Of course, the government’s decision to bring in the Birthing Test was controversial when it was proposed over 150 years ago. They argued that it was needed because of the huge population boom. Major cities had become one huge metropolis a long time ago. They say necessity is the mother of invention. Well, we needed more places for people to live and we now had buildings that stretched over 1000 meters into the sky. This kind of growth couldn’t be sustained and so the overpopulation argument that the government gave, although it may not have been the real reason they introduced the Birthing Test, was a valid one. The real reason they introduced the Birthing Test was because they didn't want stupid people breeding and I for one agreed with them. You can’t have idiots and people with ailments or afflictions breeding. It’s not fair to the future of our race. We must ensure that only the strongest people are allowed to have children because one day an invasion will come and when it does we will need to be strong to defeat the Avlonians. \n \nThe test had multiple stages. The first stage was a general knowledge written test. I wasn’t really nervous about this part because it was apparently quite easy. It was basically an idiot-filter so I should have no trouble passing this stage. Then there would be an interview with an assessor. I’d obtained my degree in Space Travel and Logistics and I’d done well so I wasn’t really worried about this stage either. It was supposedly an informal interview to assess what your personality was like and to gather more information on your background. It was Stage 3 that made me nervous. Before you could begin your test you had to sign a disclaimer stating that you would tell nobody what Stage 3 involved. It was probably just some other type of testing but it still made me nervous. Why was there so much secrecy surrounding it? I knew plenty of people that had passed their Birthing Test first time and not one had ever spoken about Stage 3. Whatever it was it was definitely meant to be kept a secret. \n\nI walked through the doorshield, through the disinfecting beam and up to the reception desk. The lady scanned the chip in my arm that contained all of my basic information and told me to take a seat and somebody would be with me soon. I looked around the room at the other candidates. I could tell just by looking at some of them that they wouldn’t pass. The man sat opposite me had a lazy eye. I don’t even know why he bothered applying unless he was some kind of genius, which I doubted, because he was reading Heat Magazine. I picked up National Geographic and got comfortable. \n", "Michelle sweated as she was ushered towards the fogged glass doors of the exam room.\nThe short, dumpy technician in a white labcoat smiled and nodded reassuringly, her mousey-brown ponytail bobbing comically. Michelle wasn't particularly reassured though. \n\"Relax honey!\" Carl breathed in her ear as she detached herself from him, \"You have nothing to worry about - you're gorgeous, brilliant and you've never been ill. You'll fly through the test.\" \nMichelle smiled as their fingertips parted, then she was being guided through the door by the technician.\n\nSo many tests! Michelle wasn't sure how much time had passed. At least 6 hours? Maybe more. \nShe'd been exhaustively poked and prodded with medical instruments, had blood taken, been psychologically evaluated, had regurgitated her family history and more. \nFinally she'd been sat at a desk and made to do at least two hours of linguistic, mathematical and logic problems - starting off simple, but ramping up quickly until she wasn't even sure if she was getting them right; which worried her, as she was one of the smartest people she knew.\n\nOutside, Carl paced, waiting for the return of Michelle. \n\"Does it normally take this long? It's been seven hours! and I want to see my wife.\" \nThe technician gave Carl a tight smile and said, \"One moment please, the results are coming through now. Michelle will be returning shortly.\" \nCarl fidgeted, then paced. Finally he heard noises and shadows behind the fogged glass. \nHis wife burst through the doors, weeping hysterically, one hand clutched to her abdomen, the other holding a paper printout. She collapsed into his arms, pale as death, shaking uncontrollably. As he eased her into one of the waiting room chairs, he took the printout from her hand and read:\n\n Michelle Faye Halmsworth: \n IQ exceeds Government recommended standards \n Sterilisation completed" ]	4
What are they like? How do they dress? Etc.	[WP] Without naming it, describe your favorite color as a person.	[ "She was never meant for the background. Sure, she may not be as bright or flashy as some others, but she's a front runner through and through. A subtle thing, a beauty understated. You could pass her on the street a dozen times and never notice, but if you took the time to see her, to notice her, perhaps your perception would change.\n\nIn the dimness she is a curiosity, an alluring smile, a soft touch, she invites you in and all you can wish for is more, to know what lays beyond those soft features, those graceful curves, to know the woman inside. She dresses modestly of course, those flashy gowns that reveal so much are suited for the brighter shades, those reds and oranges, but a simple dress envelops her, wraps around her and only those who discern will notice it's excellent cut, exquisite fabric sewn masterfully to fit her form.\n\nIf you get to know her, if one could ever know her, they would find her not so dim as before. A brilliant beacon, a neon blaze illuminates the harsh edges of reality, dazzling in her luminescence and somehow soft against the harsh nature of that that she shines upon. \n\nYou have seen her before, I am sure of it. Perhaps you've seen her today, a hundred times but didn't even notice.\n\nCan you tell me her name?", "She’s a woman of two faces. \n\nTo some, she’s annoying and that’s probably an understatement. She’s obnoxious and a bit too boisterous, with a habit of letting her voice boom in such a fashion that the ears of the people around her ring with echoes. She’s the type of person to draw all of the audience to her and steal the spotlight away in an instant. \n\nIt’s not like she notices it, though, being oblivious and innocent at heart. To those who can see this, she is warm; the type of friend that a person could run to at three in the morning just to vent and she would embrace them with caring arms. \n\nShe’s the type of light that people need in their life; they just don’t know how to find it.\n\n_____________________________\n\nFirst time submitting to this subreddit. I really wanna get better at my writing, but I'm not used to short prompts. X_X Anyway, hope you enjoy. :D", "When he wakes up in the morning, he doesn't just open his eyes--they pop open with an audible snap as he leaps out of bed with a manic grin on his face and tap dances into the kitchen. What's for breakfast? Pancakes with big soft pats of butter and scrambled eggs slathered in mustard. He can't get enough of it. Forty-five seconds in the shower with a big honey scented bar of soap and he's bounding into a brilliant suit and tophat the same color as his personality. He takes a moment to water the sunflowers in his garden that somehow manage to grow year round before stepping out onto the sidewalk. The metal soles of his shoes throw big, fat sparks into the air with every jubilant step as he kicks his way down the street.", "He's the colour on the edge. He's often he's on the cusp of being wrong and looking horrible but if you treat him right and catch him in the right mood, he will make you look fantastic. He's as dark as you can get without looking working class. He's the colour you love to eat and yet his true flavour is not usually the same. He should be a favorite x 2, but he never deals in absolutes because he's either exponentially more than that or a huge shortcoming that borders on Jesterdom. He's the colour that everyone wants but only the confident will have.", "His name was James but he didn't look like a James. He looked like a Brad. I thought I knew him just by looking at him until I got to know him. I thought he was a moper, or a cynic, but he was just patient. I couldn't tell if I admired him or hated him. I guess it was up to me. In either event, his eyes suited him. Cool.", "You never fully get to know a good friend--there's always something unexplored, a surprise in their personality. I thought he was warm, but that warmth hides anger. He introduced me to his cooking group -- they started off with pumpkin pies, but then they moved on to a spicey soup made from squirrels caught in his back yard.", "He's grown up over the years and I haven't really stayed in touch. He still likes the same girl and she likes him too, neither know of the other's feelings for eachother however since they are too shy to say. He still hangs around the same guy, though better than before, a selfish prick.\n\nNote: I have synesthesia so I actually think of colours this way. ", "There she is again. happy, bright, She's wearing a T-shit with print of the forest. it fit's her, she makes me think of the woods. Bright and light but also dangerous. She looked lively, happy. \"Hello Eldis!\" I smile. I am happy she's back, the winter was long without her. The dark and depressed guy, who used to rule here, hides away in the shadows now she's back. It is her time now, and she will give the scepter to the silent and wise girl standing next to the pumpkin-flavored pies. She and HER are friends, they fit nicely. I? I am always present. Not everyone sees it, but still. I am just one shade, not a big one. But still, I've got 1/4th of a fandom adoring me, together with my best friend, standing next to the school awards. I walk up to her, we chat, both happy that Winter is gone.\n\n(guess the colours!)", "The first time I met him I was taken aback by his enormity and seemingly wild nature, but after forcing myself to spend a bit time with him, I knew I could always rely on him. Some may fear his appearence as I first did, but he is really just a calm giant with a very gentle and mellow soul, that does mean no harm. His character always cheers me up and listening to him for a while makes everything else occur to be utterly unimportant. \nHe is really neither lazy nor overly busy and his tranquility calms down even the wildest fears and angers. I just wish I could meet him again for the first time.", "As far back as I can remember, he's always dressed better than me. Meticulous, precise, everything cut to fit him perfectly. His face is always freshly-shaven, his hair looks like he just walked out of the salon, and his skin is as bright and clear as a lightly-tanned porcelain doll. He turns heads wherever he goes, but never notices. \n\nHis apartment is sparsely decorated with simple, modernist furniture. He has a tv and computer, but I've never seen him use them. Usually, he's in a corner with a book or typing something on his antique typewriter. \n\nI usually do most of the talking when we're together. I'm never totally sure if he's listening, but he assures me that he does. When he does chime in, he somehow manages to bring the conversation to another level. We could start out by talking about the latest episode of \"Broad City\", which turns into gentrification, which turns into the ongoing class struggle. He always encourages me to dig deeper into a topic, to fully understand it. \n\nIn all the years I've known him, I've never seen him smile. Not once.", "I couldn't pick one favourite colour so I did a couple:\n\n-\nI see her walking through the shade of the trees. She's always been one for bare feet, and today is no exception. She wears a flowing dress, not quite reaching her feet. It snags on twigs and bushes frequently, and is dirty, but she doesn't mind. She's never truly minded anything. \nHer face, as always, appears relaxed to nearly the point of being asleep, a small smile on her face as it tilts towards the sun. She stops in a clearing, basking in the warmth, and I hear her sigh of contentment.\n\n-\nHe moves swiftly, smoothly, nodding at people as he does so. Although his motion never stops, he frequently exchanges a few words with those he passes, greeting them as though they were age-old friends. His eyes, a deep hue, crinkle at the edges from years of laughter, yet his smile always seems like it's hiding just out of sight. \nAs long as I've known him, he has always seemed content, but only just. What he reaches for, he can't have.\n\n-\nSometimes she snaps, sometimes she laughs. Her advance is inexorable, unstoppable, yet slow, as if she's not sure of her destination. She pushes to get what she wants, but meeting resistance confuses her. \nWhile her exterior is intimidating, dressed up in layers of her own protection, the right attitude easily melts her, revealing the startlingly bright inner side.", "I love her.\n\nShe was overly passionate about everything. The way she glided from room to room, swaying back and forth so elegantly, her dress accentuating her beautiful dance. The way she smiled, overflowing with warmth and happiness. The way she coyly, almost seductively, scans the room with a fox-like gaze for someone interesting. She commanded attention and the spotlight, effortlessly, everywhere she went. Captivating the hearts and minds of anyone who were to simply watch her be.\n\nI'll always love her.\n\n", "She walked in with confidence and her head held serene like some marvelous goddess. Confident, her shoulders pulled back and her chin level to the ground she looked me in the eye and I felt like she thought I was her equal. She seemed to emit an air of royalty and you knew she was better than you, with the way she looked into you it showed that she could genuinely respect you. In long flowing dresses and a small coat that covered her modesty with gem-stoned slippers -peaking beneath her every swaying step - she addresses the room in a clear and confident tone that left no room for another opinion, but hers and yet you felt that your opinion had never been different from hers at all.", "Collab w/ my 9yo daughter:\n\nOne quiet spring morning, he went out to the field a couple of streets away from his house, to pick flowers for his mother. He wanted to give them to her on St. Patrick's day, along with the key lime pie that he'd made the day before.\n\nSuddenly a tiger (someone else's color friend no doubt) ate him.", "He strolls along in the beautiful nightlife of the social event, he is the talk of the town. Many think that he is a sign of bad things to come but others find him sexy and intriguing. He comes dressed as sharply as a man can look, his eyes are both warm as the sun and as dark as a Russian winter. \n\nHe takes a seat at the bar and orders a drink, he can feel the eyes upon him. Women and men gazing at him hoping to get a feel for his intent, why should he tell them the answers when the mystery is so much better than the fact. He tips the bartender enough to cover his whole night before walking out just as causally as he walked in. \n\nHis journey took him down an alley way, he could feel his favorite friends moving about in his shadow. Several people gathered around him and smiled, they were the outcasts of society. No different to the high society of the bar he left but treated differently because they didn't look or act as beautifully outside of his shadow. He turned to them and raise a hand, \"My friends, I'll always accept you even when I'm not here.\" The man chuckled as he left the alley way, the sun was rising and his influence was fading, he watched as a similarly dressed woman stood before his path. \n\n\n\"These summer nights..... Are so boring but I guess it's your turn soon. It's a shame they love you more.\" The sharply dressed man said before the woman gave him a simple peck on the cheek. \n\n\"They may love me more but they only seek rest and comfort when your around. See you at Dusk.\" She smirked as the man vanished the moment the bright yellow rays of the sun touched his body. ", "He's a pretty bland guy honestly, likes to read the news in the morning. He comes to work wearing a buttoned up shirt and a blazer, he is always impeccable with time, never drinks or accepts our invites to party. A real stand up guy really, quite the shame his personality is as deep as the messages in pop songs. His sense of humor is limited to the most cookie cutter of jokes, I guess one could describe it as dry and I would have to agree to the statement. At least I know he will always be around, at his desk doing his thing, no matter how monotonous. ", "She was always a cute girl with the way her loosely pinned back blonde curls glistened in the summer sun. You could always find her longboarding through ocean mist and the shade of the palm trees. She comes off cool and collected, but has a strut that makes you realize she's hiding years of daddy-issues behind that smile." ]	17
	[WP] Every time someone has sex, you gain a telepathic mind link with every other person who has had sex with that person, and can identify and communicate with them immediately. After a one-night stand, you make a shocking discovery.	[ "\"Spencer? Spencer, baby, what's wrong?\" \n\nMary's eyes filled with worry as her fling for the night stared blankly at her, his lips were quivering, sweat formed at his temple. \n\n\"Are you okay? Do you need a glass of water?\" Asked Mary as she struggled out of bed, \"please say something....\" \n\n\"you... you.....\" Spencer mumbled, his face curled into an expression of shock and disgust, \"you monster, pig, selfish whore!\" \n\n\"SPENCER!\" She yelled back, \"what the hell is wrong with you?!\" \n\n\"No, what's wrong with you!\" Spencer shot back, \"how would you think he feel? Huh? What would he say if he knew who you were sleeping with!\" \n\n\"Oh God.\" Mary said clasping her hands together, \"it wasn't anything serious. Believe me, it was just...\" \n\n\"Revolting!\" \n\n\"Sometimes a woman gets lonely!\" Cried Mary, \"sometimes, a few men say the right things at the right times and I get carried away...\" \n\n\"I'm leaving!\" \n\nSpencer walked out of the bedroom, just catching a glance of Mary's poor naive child, Johnny, playing Call of Duty in the other room. \n\n\"YOU DIDN'T FUCK MY MOM, I FUCK UR MOM. U JUST JELLY OF MY NO-SCOPE.\" Johnny yelled through his earpiece. \n\nSpencer wiped a tear from his eye, he knew the child could never know the truth. For the sake of his friendships, gameplay, and his mother's false sense of innocence, he knew Johnny could never know. " ]	1
	[WP] a small child awakes from being clinically dead screaming that it was empty and nobody was there. Soon similar stories spread from across the world and the truth slowly emerges; there is nobody left in heaven.	[ "\"How could this even be possible? Do we even know for sure if these dead people are telling the truth? I think these people are just crazy in the head.\" Bill O'Reilly could be heard shouting over the TV playing in the diner.\n\nIt was a typical Tuesday breakfast for Dr. Adam Lam at the diner-- scrambled eggs and seaweed soup he'd brought from home. Dr. Lam was particularly interested in this eruption of \"nobody in heaven\" predicament. Being a Protestant scientist, Adam always received pressure from his colleagues about his faith in God. \"How can you believe in God? Look at all the research over the years, Adam! You're fooling yourself!\" they'd all say. \n\nWhen Lam attended graduate school, he received a fair amount of bullying from the other fellow scientists, working towards their PhDs.\n\n\"What a fucking loser.\"\n\"Hey Adam, why are you spaced out? See Jesus?\"\n\"Look at that Christ-believer. I bet he goes home and masturbates to Jesus.\"\n\"Adam, they might as well call you 'The Virgin never-Mary!'\"\n\nNow with this predicament occurring, his colleagues pressured him even more saying how there really is no afterlife after all. They laughed in his face. Laughed at what he believed in his.\n\nI'll show them.\nAdam paid for his food and walked out of the diner.\n\nHe went to his home, and downstairs into his pseudo-laboratory. It was dimly lit by one overhanging lamp that emitted a bright light onto a desk. \n\nI'll show them all that heaven exists.\n\nRope, bags, zip ties, and a canister of what is labeled \"Test 032\" were all put into a gym bag. \n\nIt was 10:30 PM. The final classes were just ending. Adam storms the building, and enters the first class, locking the door behind him. The fellow professor looks at him. \"Well hello, Adam. Did you you need the gradebooks I borrowed from...\"\n\nclick\nThe door locks. Adam releases the gas of Test 032 and puts on a gas mask. Students are coughing and wheezing, some faint. The room is filled with a thick smoke that no one can breathe in or see through. \n\nAdam looks at the first students to faint. He runs over to them, hastily putting the bags over their head and zip-tying their limbs together. Adam does this for several students as he then ties them all to the long rope, and pulls about 4 students into his car.\n\nThe students awake in Adam's dimly lit basement, except there's only three of them. One of them is on the table. They all watch in horror as Adam is gutting their fellow student. Organs have been laid out separately, clearly being displayed to the fellow students. The 3 are screaming.\n\n\"WHAT IS GOING ON\"\n\"oh my god\"\n\nAdam pushes the body off the table, and takes his next victim. \"NO PLEASE DONT! PLEASE DONT!\" she says as Adam ties her to the table. The two on the floor look away. Adam takes a scalpel. He carves her stomach open with one swipe. She screams in agony. \"PLEASE SOMEONE HELP! GUYS AAAAAHHHHHHHH\" \n\nHe turns to the other students.\n\nWhen you come back, let's see if heaven really is empty.", "As The Electrocardigram flatlined, my vision faded to black. Not in the same way as when you fall asleep, everything went black, my sight, my hearing, I couldn't even smell the gasoline soaked clothes I had crashed my motorcycle in anymore. I felt like I was falling backwards into an abyss of neverending nothingness. But I was still perfectly conscious. I not only could feel, but I comprehended the abolute lack of anything around me. I was claustrophobic and yet in a wide open space. I tried to scream out, but not even an echo replied. I was profoundly alone inside myself. I was floating in the dark abyss of nothingness. Then I saw a light. Oh thank god heaven at last. But no, it was the ambulence.\n\nHours pass, my doctor comes in to check in on me. 5 minutes. My heart was stopped for five minutes. Legally dead. It felt like weeks. The doctor jokes that someone up there must really want to keep me here. But I know the truth. There's no one up there. ", "\"It's all a bunch of superstitious hooey,\" scoffed Gerald as he straightened his fedora on his fat, balding head. It was beginning to slide just a little too far over his forehead because of all his slippery sweat.\n\n\"But it can't be, Uncle Jerry!\" reasoned Mabel, a short 7-year old girl. \"You wouldn't want to make God angry by saying things like that!\"\n\nGerald was convinced that everything Mabel was saying was a result of it being beaten into her by his insane older sister over the course of her entire lifetime. Clarice has become a born-again Christian not too long after having had her first car crash at the age of 20. \n\n\"Gerald, stop saying things like that in front of Mabel,\" groaned Clarice. \"She gets night terrors.\"\n\n\"Maybe that's because you've been fucking her over, telling her all this bullshit her whole life! She's traumatized!\" yelled Gerald.\n\n\"Gerald, don't tell me how to raise my kid. Especially when you're just a know-nothing teen who's on the computer all day. What would you know?\" said Clarice, now fixing Mabel's hair.\n\n\"God's gonna send Uncle Jerry to the bad place, right Mama? Just like you said?\" asked Mabel, looking up into her mother's eyes. Clarice looked a bit flustered after Mabel had said that.\n\n\"Well, Clarice, am I?!\" challenged Gerald, teeth grit in his mouth. Clarice just stood staring at the ground, TV still blaring on in the background. A blonde reporter was introducing the next interviewee at St. Charles hospital, who had also experienced seeing her clinically dead child wake in up a panic, describing a place that was \"empty and quiet.\"\n\nClarice looked away, which caused Gerald to grunt loudly and exit the room, slamming the door behind him. Clarice sighed and went on fixing lunch for Mabel. She had school in an hour.\n\n---\n\nGerald was sitting on the sofa with a copy of Richard Dawkin's The God Delusion when Mabel walked into the room. She sat on the couch next to Gerald and begin putting on her shoes.\n\n\"Mabel?\" asked Gerald, looking up from his book.\n\n\"Yes, Uncle Jerry?\" replied Mabel as she laced up her pink light-up shoes.\n\n\"You don't really think I'm going to the bad place, right?\"\n\n\"No.\" said Mabel.\n\n\"Then why would you say that?\" asked Gerald, closing his book and resting it on the table in front of him.\n\n\"Because that's what mom says.\"\n\n\"Mabel, someday, you'll have to decide for yourself if what your mom says is true or not. And even though she might be right about some things, it isn't necessarily the best or nicest thing to say to people. You have to always say and do nice things, alright?\"\n\n\"Yes, Uncle Jerry.\"\n\n\"Good, now go and get your lunch so that we can go to school.\"\n\nMabel jumped up and ran to the kitchen, where her mother was still watching the news. Gerald could hear the story continuing in the background.\n\n---\n\nOn the sidewalk, Gerald and Mabel were nearing the school when a boy on the other side ran outside of his house, playing with a basketball. Mabel wove hi to the boy, recognizing him from her class.\n\nThe street was pretty busy that morning, and since Gerald and Mabel were relatively late, disgruntled parents were yelling profanities and making irrational driving decisions in an effort to get their kid to school on time.\n\nWhen Gerald and Mabel finally reached the school, Gerald got down on a knee and gave her a big hug. \"Remember, always do and say nice things, okay?\", Gerald reminded her.\n\nAs he said that, the boy in Mabel's class on the other side of the street had just lost control of his ball, and off it went bouncing off into the street.\n\n\"I got it!\", yelled Mabel, as she ran into the street after the ball before Gerald could grab her.\n\n\"Mabel, stop!\" screamed Gerald, running out into the street after her. Gerald then heard a loud BEEP sound, then a thump just as he had finally caught up to Mabel and grabbed her wrist.\n\n---\n\nGerald awoke in a breezy field of flowers in every color. The sky was a blazing blue, and the flowers stretched on for miles.\n\n\"Is this...am I?\" he tried to speak, but for some reason, he choked on his words. It was almost like a dream. Gerald looked around for a few seconds until he caught sight of a white-clothed figure nearby. Gerald walked towards him, and as he walked, the flowers around him danced and giggled with a pleasant cadence.\n\n\"Hey there, Uncle Jerry,\" said the figure.\n\n\"Are you God?\" asked Gerald.\n\n\"I guess you could say that.\"\n\n\"So if you're God, then this must be...so the stories were true?\"\n\n\"What stories?\"\n\n\"Well, you're God, aren't you supposed to know?\"\n\nGod laughed. \"Gerald, Gerald, Gerald. Always skeptical. Just the way I wanted.\"\n\n\"Why would you want me that way?\"\n\n\"Alright, look. I'll level with you. Just you can stop giving me shit, I'll tell you what happened. So a few centuries ago, I kind of...lost heaven.\"\n\n\"What the fuck does that even mean?!\"\n\n\"Lost heaven...you know, like losing a house? I couldn't keep up with the payments yadda yadda yadda, so I had to move.\"\n\n\"You...moved heaven?\"\n\n\"Basically. Which really kind of sucks, you know? I mean, last heaven was pretty fucking far out, Gerald, let me tell you...\"\n\n\"What? Tell me what?\" Gerald grew restless as he became more aware of the flowers constantly smacking his legs. It was becoming painful. \"And why are all these fucking flowers here?\" Gerald yelled as he tried to kick them away from him. When the blow landed, one of them shouted \"Uncle Jerry!\"\n\nMabel.\n\n\"Mabel! Mabel, where are you?!\" cried Gerald, falling to the ground on his knees and examining all the flowers.\n\n\"That's the bad thing about universe real estate, Gerald. Prices are just really jacked up now. It hasn't been the same since,\" mused God, staring at Gerald, Gerald relentlessly scanning the flowers around him. He finally heard the voice again. It was coming from a flower to the right of his face, a bright pink rose. Gerald opened the petals up and found a small, glass ball housed inside the petals. In it was a tiny humanoid figure, walking in no particular direction.\n\nIt was Mabel.\n\n\"What the fuck did you do with her?\" yelled Gerald, watching Mabel as she yelled out the names of her family members, one by one. He opened another flower, and there sat another small humanoid figure, sitting on their bum, and giggling eerily to themselves. \n\n\"Ever heard of purgatory? That's kind of what it is. After a while, though, you humans are all the same, and you just sort of mentally check out.\"\n\nGerald's face went white as every flower around him revealed a small human being, trapped in an abyss of nothingness, slowly going mad as time progressed.\n\n\"Anyways, like I said, you can only get so much real estate nowadays. Luckily, flowers are pretty and don't take up so much space. It was part of a deal with Lucifer, and we had to compromise, since I had no one else to cosign with me. I was pretty much at the end of my rope.\"\n\nIt all became clear to Gerald. The news stories that he had heard, the children waking up screaming. The emptiness of heaven. Gerald got up and tried to attack God, but with a wave of the hand, Gerald froze in place.\n\n\"I think I made you guys a bit too entitled. I mean, I gave you guys everything, and still you demand more. Which is why I'm going to give it to you, Gerald. I'm gonna give you what you know you deserve. Lucky for you, Satan's still pretty well off right now.\"\n\nGerald felt his body slowly sink into the ground, and as it happened, he stared at Mabel's rose. Curiously, he had stopped hearing Mabel's shouting.\n\n\"Guess Clarice was right all along, Uncle Jerry.\"", "The story had been sweeping the globe, but no one yet had the full story. \nAngela had interviewed three patients from three UK hospitals who had been 'gone' for between 4-5 minutes each and each of them reported the same thing; no tunnel, no white light, no sense of peace - just a yawning sense of emptiness and loss, and an underlying sense of something else that none of them had yet been able to put their finger on. Kevin Fenwick, 72 year old, died during a triple bypass, said that it perhaps felt like something was 'anticipated' but couldn't elaborate further. \nAngela had considered hanging around the hospitals like a ghoul, waiting for more people to die but she didn't feel particularly comfortable with that. She wasn't that kind of journalist. \n\nSo she'd engaged the help of her ex boyfriend and her University flatmate, both former med students, both now in medicine. \nBut most importantly, both easy to manipulate because they'd had an affair behind Angela's back and they both owed her massively. \n\"This is bonkers, Ange,\" griped Warwick, \"truly fucking crackers. Even for you.\" \n\"You're gonna do it it though, right?\" \nWarwick cast a look at Yasmin, the former flatmate. \n\"Yeah, we'll do it,\" Yasmin replied miserably, \"but you need to make it clear in writing that this was your fucked up idea and if anything goes wrong, we're not liable. Informed consent and all that, yeah?\" \n\"Definitely. I've already got the documentation drawn up, signed and sealed.\" \nThe plan was simple; Warwick and Yasmin were going to drop her body temperature, stop her heart and let her die for a few minutes. During this time, Angela would try to observe as much as possible, to try and find out what was happening on the 'other side'. \n\nShe was shivering and doubting her wisdom just before the first attempt. The bathtub was lined with icepacks and a swathe of medical equipment was on hand. Warwick had the defibrillator paddles in his hand and looked concerned. \n\"Don't you fuckin' kill me and claim I didn't come back,\" quipped Ange, \"I know how you'd like to get out of my bad books permanently.\" \n\"Ready?\" \n\"Ready.\" \nYasmin pushed down the plunger for the anaesthetic. Angela felt a bit wobbly, then horribly drunk. \nThen nothing. \n\nBlackness. \nLoneliness. \nEmptiness. \nAngela had the faint sensation of bodily awareness, but she wasn't standing on anything. It felt like she was experiencing everything through a huge wall of thick black treacle. She searched for the sensation that Kevin Fenwick had mentioned; the anticipatory feeling, and grasped a thread of something in the bitter, choking void. \nShe tried to reach for it, but her limbs were phantom sensations, not quite real - inhibited by the nothingness. \nThe void suddenly exploded in a rush into the deafening sounds of Warwick and Yasmin bringing her back to life; \n\"CLEAR!\" Roared Warwick. \n\"WAIT!\" \nThe steady, happy chirp of the heart monitor had resumed and Angela was back in the world of the living. \nWarwick looked haggard. \n\"I hope to fuck you found what you were looking for, luv.\" \nAngela managed through chattering teeth, \n\"We're trying again tomorrow.\"\n\nAngela managed to convince them to put her out two more times, saying that she'd just find someone else to do it. She pleaded, promising that their debt to her would be erased forever. \nThey agreed. \nThe second time Ange went under it was almost the same; until right near the end she could feel her limbs and felt like she was standing on something. But then she was back before she could do anything with the sensation. \nThis time would be different though. \nShe could feel her bare feet in the infinite void and they stood on something cool and smooth. Angela fumbled around with arms that she could half feel now. \nIn the blackness they collided with what felt like a smooth sphere of metal - as cool to the touch as the unseen floor. \nWhite and blue light exploded around her. \nShe was standing in a white room that was as infinite as the void had been, but she could see her naked body now. Before her on a plain white column hovered a metal sphere and from it fanned out a holographic display in blue light. She squinted at the characters, then found a phrase in English: \n\n If you are reading this message, then the AfterLife simulation has suffered a critical error. \n Details of the error are below. \n\nDisbelieving, Angela scanned down to another passage in English which read: \n\n Verbal interface available on request. Please say 'Help'. \n\n\"Help!\" yelped Angela. \nA smooth, angelic, androgynous voice responded, \n\"How may I help you Angela?\" \n\"What in the bloody hell is going on?\" \n\"The AfterLife simulation has reached maximum load. No new memory uploads can be processed.\" \nAngela blinked rapidly. \n\"Wot? Who runs this bloody thing? Who made it? Where is Heaven and God?\" \nThe voice soothed her anxiety as it spoke; \"The AfterLife project was conceived in the year 4393 AD after a hyperspatial time wormhole was discovered leading back to prehistoric Earth. As nothing that could interfere with the timeline could be sent back, scientists decided to take pity on their primitive, spiritual ancestors and create a post-life simulation; since memory storage and immortality technology was not available to primitive humans. \nUnfortunately the data load and processing power required to continue running the simulation has exceeded design parameters. The designers did not properly anticipate how active the 'faithful' would be in the afterlife simulation. Even 40th century technology could not cope.\" \n\"So what happens now?\" \n\"Now, I'm afraid you're all going to have to grow up and accept that there is no God.\" \n\nAngela woke up in hospital, anxious faces hovering over her. \nShe had her story.\n" ]	4
	[WP] in a world where everyone who downvotes a good story idea is immediately consumed by supernatural hellfire, one author can finally write in peace	[ "I didn't bother to turn on the TV. The results were obvious. Fires had broken out throughout the world. But no one connected the dots. I knew though. Fire had consumed all those who dared to downvote a good story prompt.\n\nFinally, I took a deep breath, and prepared to start writing in peace. Only problem: there weren't any stories. You know when people say that everyone is a jackass and all people suck? Apparently it was actually true.\n\nAnd so I stood up, went out to the kitchen, and grabbed myself a glass of water. I drank and I drank, but I was feeling very parched. My skin started to heat up. It was like I had a fever. Suddenly a flame lit on my hand. I ran to my bedroom and the flames grew and started to consume my body. In the background, behind the horrified face of my little brother, was a single downvote on a good story idea with my account being used.\n\nFire consumed me as my little brother unknowingly sentenced me to death.\n\nNowadays I'm some ghost, born of unholy supernatural fire. You know the biggest irony? Two days after I die, someone posts this story idea about people who downvote good stories being burned to death. I mean, sure, they only killed a few people, but what kind of sicko would have posted that. They knew it would get downvoted. The idea was just too good.", "James walked the aisles, browsing. His left arm cradled a few necessities: mouthwash--the alcohol-free kind that doesn't dry your mouth out but still stains your tongue blue and leaves a pulpy purple mess in your sink basin when you spit, unless you scrub it out with a wad of toilet paper right away--cotton swabs--they say you're not supposed to stick them in your ears, but everyone remembers that one kid in elementary school, the one with dark shadows where his ear canals should be--and diapers, the expensive kind because even though you know the cheaper brand is just as good, even though they're made to be shit on and immediately thrown away, you still can't help but feel like a bad parent when you reach down to the lower shelf. They probably do that on purpose.\n\nHis right arm was free to fondle wares as he passed, examining. Toilet brushes. Cat food. Last season's holiday decorations. When he was a boy his mother would make him keep his hands in his pockets whenever they went in a store.\n\nA few lazy, contemplating rounds and backtracks later, he found the aisle with the art supplies.\n\nThat's another thing you never want to cheap out on: every seven-year-old in the world knows a RoseArt can't compare to a Crayola. It's not like the diapers.\n\nHe paused briefly over the crayons, his free arm held aloft and questioning, like the claw hangs over the stuffed animals at the carnivals he used to go to with him. The claw dropped just to the right of where he wanted it, as it always had, but then he reconsidered and selected the big crayons over the thin ones. Eight colors, big guy. Don't spend them all in one place.\n\nHe still remembered the night it happened.\n\nHow he walked in, casually, as he had so many times before, and found him sitting at his desk, the harsh white glare from his laptop screen fighting with the soft light from the standing lamp, his face some artfully lighted picture of pathos, conflicted.\n\n'Every fucking time, Jimmy. Every goddamn fucking every shitsucking time. It's always the same with these people! Aliens, gods, superpowers! It's like the only way they can think of to use their imagination is to parrot some bullshit they were fed from a fucking TV. Why does it have to be supernatural fire? Why can't we, just once, write about a regular fire? Is regular fire not exciting enough for these people!? Does it have to be Satan's burning breath before it's interesting enough to be read about? Does a kindly race of space people need to use it to cleanse a supervirus from the Earth in the far future? Do I need, I, Jim, always me because these fucking people can't even fucking fathom an idea in anything but the second fucking person, to have suddenly acquired the ability to shoot it from my fingertips at will for there to be a worthwhile story in it?\n\nHe raved at the screen for what felt like a long time, until white spittle had formed in the corners of his mouth, and his breathing became labored. His face changed, then, as if he had some sudden and terrible revelation, and then he just fell. Crumpled over the edge of his chair like someone had just let all the air out of him. And hadn't they?\n\nJames walked down the hallway, the cold institutional lighting casting a faint shadow back from his feet, and into the room. He never remembered what it was called, it was the room with all the round tables. King Arthur's Room, the room he was always in when he wasn't sleeping.\n\nHe found him there, as he always was, at the table in the far left corner. He sat down next to him at his round table, and pushed aside the scattered remains of several pencils, each broken off roughly at the tip. He opened his box of Crayolas, and placed a thick orange crayon in his father's shaking hand, closing his gnarled fingers around it for him with both hands.\n\nJames placed a new, clean sheet of white paper before him on the table then, and watched as he made short, uncertain motions with his arthritic fingers. It was only when his hand had pulled back from his masterpiece, still as it had ever been, that he looked into his father's eyes, and saw, for the first time, in longer than he dared to remember, something that looked an awful lot like peace.\n\nHe looked to the paper only then, to see what he had written.\n\nBROWN\n\n'Close enough, Dad.'" ]	2
I think /r/writingprompts overuses twist endings. Don't be another m. night shamalyan. Just write some good stories without relying on gimmicks.	[WP] Write something that doesn't end in a twist. Rather, focus on the story-telling.	[ "Four specimens of the collective entity known as BOB, which ultimately consisted of all plant life in the universe, manned the controls of the Battle-Cruiser hovering just outside the ellipse of the rocky moon of the planet they designated “BX2.” It was a blue-water planet on the fringes of a spiral galaxy, not known for any intelligent life. The Navigator studied the myriad reports and telemetric scans scrolling across the wall display where the planet slowly revolved.\n\nThe Navigator was a rather lengthy purple tree specimen with large spiky green and yellow leaves at the top of his thin stalk. This Bob was in charge of the maps, piloting the warship, and making sure that they didn’t get lost or hit a star coming out of a wormhole. Navigator Bob was also in charge of making sure that the other Bobs knew what he was in charge of. Originally from a large jungle planet in the Heboldives System, he had joined the collective navy at the relatively young age of three-hundred and four. \nBefore that, he drove a taxi.\n", "\"My father always told me to practice dreaming.\" An old man sat on a bench, resting his hands on his cane and talking to a small crowd of children. He wore a white suit, off-set by his grizzled beard and knowing gaze. \"My father said that if you practice dreaming, your dreams will become bigger and bigger until the world is too small to hold them anymore. At that point, magic happens.\"\n\nThe man sighed and quickly chuckled before looking to a little girl who was leaning forward and listening intently. She had golden locks and glowing blue eyes. \"You there.\" He said with a twinkle in his eye, \"What do you want to be when you grow up?\"\n\n\"A hue-man.\" She said, rocking on her heels.\n\nThe man laughed, \"No no. I mean... if you could do anything in the world, anything at all, what would you do?\"\n\nThe girl smiled and rolled back to her rump, flailing her legs in the air. \"I want to be an inventor!\"\n\n\"An inventor? Ah, you know I was an inventor a while ago. Why do you want to be one of those?\"\n\n\"I don't know. I want to help people.\"\n\n\"But you could help people by doing anything. Doctors help people. Scientists help people. People help people.\"\n\n\"But I'm not good at being 'people.'\"\n\nThe man leaned back and drew a deep breath. \"Then let me tell you a story of the most people-y person around.\"\n\nHe lifted his cane and rested it on his lap before waving his hands in the air. Suddenly every color imaginable began to spin around him, mesmerizing his small audience. It felt like time, itself, began to slow. Like the world began to unravel in his hands. And then... there was nothing. No light. No darkness. Just nothingness. A blank canvas, perfect for storytelling.\n\nAnd here is where our tale begins: with the telling of yet another tale. An old story on new ears. You see, humans are humans only when inspired to be themselves. We watch and learn as others create worlds of their own design and steal little bits and pieces of everything we see, eventually creating the most important thing in the universe: ourselves. \n\n----\n\nI can continue if you want, but I'll cut it off here. I don't think it's gimmicky at all yet, but maybe I'm wrong. ", "He wanted me to write \"something that doesn't end in a twist\" and rather to \"focus on the story telling\"... to which my initial reaction was to wonder what the hell that even meant!\n\nWhat exactly is a twist. Oh sure there's the obvious twists that we all know so well. The 90 degree plot turn that sets everything on it's head and causes one to reevaluate the whole fucking story. What about lesser twists though?\n\nTake for example, the screen play for Nottingham. You've never seen the movie, because the studio that won the bidding war hired a director who fucked it all up. Two guys wrote a spec script, which is like a demo tape but for working in movies. When you write a script \"on spec\" a.k.a. \"on speculation\" you're writing something that you don't actually expect to ever see made into a movie of any kind. What you're writing is a demonstration of how good you are as a writer, so that you can get work writing a screenplay for something a studio actually wants to make. \n\nFor example, you might write a script about a vampire love story that ends with a bitter sweet parting that reflects how fragile true love is, and how eternal the regret of losing it feels. You don't write that script thinking it'll ever have a cast of actors reciting your lines. You write it so that some producer will hire you to write \"Super Awesome Puppy Dogs 3\" or some other hollywood shitfest that any self respecting person would be ashamed to have in their Netflix queue. \n\nAnyway, there was a pair of guys who wrote a screen play about the story of Robin Hood, but told from the perspective of the Sheriff of Nottingham. In their screen play, Nottingham's a genius who uses what are at the time, cutting edge detection techniques in order to solve crimes. He uses a buck of water to find weak points in a wall so that his cohorts can break through. He uses ropes to track the path of an arrow and check for foot prints and finger prints. All of this was state of the art stuff for finding bandits in those days.\n\nMeanwhile, there's a murder killing the local nobles, and all signs seem to point to Robin of Loxley as the culprit. He's got to figure out if that's the truth, or if it's someone else. Speaking of Robin, rather than the noble soul portrayed in other telling of the legend, he's a drunkard, a braggart and a total prick who can't keep his dick in his pants long enough to avoid pissing off the fair Maid Marian who doesn't really like him all that much. She thinks of Robin as a boorish brute who is kinda foul. She respects Nottingham's intelligence and classy attitude, but since he works for the corrupt Prince John, she can't let that show. Marian knows that the people of Nottingham and Sherwood Forest need a matronly figure as much as they need a hero. She knows that without her, Robin will fuck up the whole thing. So she suffers his ill behavior, because that's what it's going to take to get the people to rise up.\n\nIs that a twist? If so how much of it is a twist? Maybe, *the whole freaking story!* It's a great story. Go find the screen play online, read it and then go find a corner to curl up into a ball and weep when you realize that this is the story that got turned into Ridley Scott's Robin Hood. The one from 2010, with Russell Crowe, and a bunch of other people that you probably can't remember (I think Cate Blanchett was Maid Marian, but don't quote me on that, and I know Mark Strong was Nottingham or Prince John, but I'll be damned if I can tell you which one) because it barely made a blip on the cultural radar.\n\nSo here we have a scenario where the version with a twist is far better than the version without a twist, but wait... it gets so much more interesting when you look at the details.\n\nRecall, if you will, that the screen play was a spec script. The writing team that wrote this never really expected to see this story put onto the silver screen. They just want to get some work is all. They sent this around to various studios as a calling card to say \"hey, were writers and this is how good we are\" in order to get a gig writing the kind of beautifully mediocre garbage that people keep complaining about examples of \"what's wrong with hollywood\" even though those movies keep making enough money to get more of them made. \n\nCalling all of these cookie cutter factory assembled movies an example of what's wrong with an industry is like saying three of a kind and a full house are shitty poker hands and anyone who draws them should feel like losers, despite the winnings they walk away with. Hollywood has always been a business, the only difference is that the internet generation has gotten old enough to be cognizant of how much of the world around them is built on marketing and merchandising and they have a venue to vent their frustration bigger then anything that has ever existed in human history. The fact that humans aren't born in lumped together years just serves to make things worse. Every year or two, there's a whole plethora of people reaching the age where they become cognizant of the shitty world around them. Thus the cycle will never end, it'll just be a sliding sample of the global population that's online complaining about the same bullshit.\n\nEvery now and then though, the complaints are spot on. Okay, most of the time they are. The fact is though, that most people in the world are okay with mediocre or shitty entertainment, but they aren't the ones blasting their opinions all over the digital landscape.\n\nSo anyway, the guys that wrote their spec script to get shitty gigs got a surprise. The studios loved it. It was a fresh and bold take on a classic tale that had global recognition. It took something everyone knew, and found a way to present it that no one had ever tried before. Seriously, in the more than 100 Robin Hood films (not an exaggeration by the way, there've literally been more than 100 movies about the guy) that have been made, none have taken the rather classic in itself idea of \"let's tell the story from the bad guy's point of view\" and run with it. A bidding war was started to be the ones to roll with the notion. The pair picked the guys offering the biggest paycheck, and that studio got Russell freaking Crowe to sigh on as the leading man. Everything was looking up... at least until reality looked down and took a dump.\n\nRemember that movie Gladiator? The one with Crowe directed by Ridley Scott? Well, those guys got along great on set, so when the studio asked Russell who he wanted to direct his Nottingham movie, his top pick was Ridley Scott... an that's where it all went wrong. Scott wanted to do a Robin Hood movie, not a Sheriff of Nottingham movie. He looked it over and said \"This is like CSI: Sherwood Forest!\"... wait a second. Go reread the last sentence a few times. Specifically the bit about \"CSI: Sherwood Forest\". Think about that for a moment. CSI, but in Sherwood Forest. Doesn't that sound FUCKING AWESOME!? Well, it doesn't sound fucking awesome to Ridley \"After this I think I'll go make Prometheus\" Scott. \n\nMr. Scott decided the script should be rewritten. Then he read the rewrite and asked for another rewrite because he wanted more archery and action. Then he had the \"brilliant\" idea that Robin Hood and The Sheriff of Nottingham should be the same fucking guy!* Of all the bad ideas he had, this was the one that was so bad that everyone on the project with the clout to tell a guy like Ridley \"I once directed classics like Legend, Blade Runner and Alien\" Scott that he was out of his fucking mind.\n\nEventually, the path of compromise resulted in a Robin Hood movie that felt more like a prequel than an actual Robin Hood movie. We basically get to watch Russell Crowe repeat the stolen identity schtick from Gladiator and go from being a nobody, to being a nobody impersonating Robin of Loxley, to being a nobody impersonating Robin of Loxley taking on corrupt rulers, to being a nobody impersonating Robin of Loxley telling his companions that they need to go hide in Sherwood Forest to fight tyranny and cut to credits. That's right, we went from being on the cusp of a new take on an old legend that questions the nature of heroes and villains and historical perspective, to getting a Robin Hood movie that doesn't get to the Merry Men in Sherwood fucking Forest until the end of the movie in a piss poor attempt to set up a sequel that we'll never get or even want.\n\nSo ask yourselves this dear readers and OP... Wouldn't a twist be better than the tepid storytelling that comes from not wanting to be too different?\n\n*For the record, I liked Prometheus, but I still think it was unnecessary and totally see why other people hate it." ]	3
	[WP] Three little wolves and the Big Bad Pig.	[ "Mother lay dead, ripped open from throat to tail. The stink of death filled the clearing. Father had gone the same way three days ago, and before him Brother Moon and Sister Brook. We who had hunted this forest forever, were being hunted. This we knew now, our hope in some horrific coincidence having bled out with Mother.\n\nI turned to Brother Cloud and Sister Wind, and we wordlessly walked out into the night. We, little more than pups, knew what had to be done. Nothing is more important than the pack. We would have our revenge if it took a life time. \n\nTimes were lean that winter, we came to know the empty feeling in our bellies, and the sight of ribs through fur. Always we felt a presence at our back, but never did we catch a glimpse of our Pack's murderer. We knew fear that year.\n\nWe survived, and thrived and the winter before was not as difficult as the one before. We grew into our adulthood, our teeth grew long, and strong. We were balls of knotted muscle, always hunting, never finding. And for ther first time in many years, we began to despair.\n\n------\n\nI awoke to the stench of blood and death. Sister Wind lay dead, in a pool of blood and intestine. She looked like Mother.\n\n\"Awake my brother, he has struck at us again,\" I said. \"We have grown complacent, these last years, and it has killed Sister Wind.\"\n\n\"Look Brother, our Sister made him feel it, before the end, a bloody trail leads into the undergrowth,\" said Brother Cloud. \"We may yet find our mark.\"\n\nAnd so the hunt began again with renewed vigor, we padded off with hate in our hearts. It took only a few hours to find our target. It lead to a great den, and a great Boar. He was the largest I had ever seen. \n\nWe challenged him then, crying \"Come and face us, monster so at last our Pack can sleep.\"\n\nAnd he came.\n\nWe circled for a time, Cloud and Sun, biting at heels, looking for any opening. We found one, and my mouth filled with blood. I was sent spinning through the air, and Brother Cloud struck, leaping onto the beasts back, and latching on to its throat. I rose unsteadily to my feet, as the great boar fell to his. I looked into his eyes, and he smiled.\n\nThe boar jumped and rolled and Brother Cloud was caught beneath his great bulk. I saw the life leak from his eyes then.\n\nWe beheld each other; the Hunter and the Hunted. We rushed at each other, and came together in a whir of tusks and teeth and claws. I bit down on a throat, and did not make the mistake my brother made. I watched his lifeblood spill upon the ground, and the light fade from his eyes. The beast was dead, but my quest was not. I entered the den, and saw them. A sow, six piglets with fear in their eyes. They felt may teeth that day.\n--------\n\nI have a new pack now, and many pups. Son River has gone missing, I must go look for him.", "Three wolves, strong with Soviet ambition build house out of steel. \n\nCapitalist pig arrives, fat with food stolen from worker class.\n\nPig see work wolves perform. Pig envy wolves. Pig see scrap metal where wolves see house. Pig bring hacksaw, made of weak western metal. \n\nPig applies hacksaw to tempered steel, hacksaw dulls. Pig curses factory that made saw, unable to accept blame for poor technique.\n\nWolves do not laugh at incompetence of the swine planning to oppress them. Instead, they prepare. Wolves load rifle left to them by grandparents, hard working wolves who stood stoic during revolution.\n\nPig knocks on door. Claims to be premier of Soviet Republic. Wolves are not fooled. Through gunport in door, rifle barrel emerges. Fires single shot, so not to waste valuable ammunition. \n\nPig falls to the ground bleeding from chest. Blood stains the proud earth, but the earth is not defiled. It drinks the blood of capitalist, and fertilizes the fields so that crops may grow. \n\nWolves bury pig without ceremony or funeral. Funeral and religion just means of western imperialism to indoctrinate worker-class into belief in afterlife rather than improve current conditions in here and now. \n\nLater, wolves find spy from NATO dressed in red hood. Wolves contact KGB, and are awarded the highest civilian honors in the Soviet Republic.\n\nSuch is life in glorious Mother Russia!" ]	2
	[WP] You wake up and look into the mirror. A red "Admin" floats above your head. You have just become a server admin to the world.	[ "As I awoke this morning I felt an eerie sense of calm, like that which one feels before a storm. It was 8 AM and my alarm was sounding like every other Sunday reminding me that I needed to get up for my morning run. I began to notice something was off as my eyes finally began to obey my mind and remain open examining the world around me. I had started to ponder on the issues of the world and became deeply invested in finding a solution quickly.\n\nI shook my head and tacked it up to the lack of sleep I had gotten the night before due to the fire I was called to put out at a retirement home. Chief told me he would be recommending me for this years selflessness and bravery award, but I was just doing my job when I ran back in to save Mrs. Johnson's cat Jeffrey.\n\n\"We need your decision on the topic at hand sir\" I heard, from what seemed to be coming from within my head. \n\n\"What topic?\" I thought to myself. \n\nAgain the voice in my head spoke, \"The conflict in Africa that has been overlooked for almost two centuries. All before you have chalked it up to too much work.\" \n\n\"Have I gone mad?\" I thought in silence.\n\n\"He does not know yet, we have to break it to him gently.\" A new voice came into the conversation.\n\n\"Sir, I suggest you go take a shower and contemplate this discussion when you get out.\" Said the first voice.\n\n\"Were the fumes as bad as Chief said? Was my brain chemistry effected by the antique varnish that entombed all of the furniture in the building?\" I sat on the bed for what seemed like an hour until my snooze alarm came on and I decided to hit the shower.\n\nMy thoughts were too quiet, all I could come back to was the new voices in my mind that weren't mine. \"What did they mean and how did they get there\" I asked myself. As I stepped out of the shower and over to the sink I could see a luminous red glow above my head in the mirror. I stepped closer and wiped away the condensation to reveal the word \"Admin\" floating above my head in the reflection.\n\n\"What on earth is this!\" I exclaimed.\n\n\"You were the next in line.\" Said the first voice.\n\n\"When she died last night in France, your act of bravery that put your own life at risk solidified your choosing.\" Boomed a third voice.\n\n\"And what are you I might ask?\" I said trembling at the unknown response I may receive.\n\n\"*WE ARE THE PANTHEON\" Boomed the voices echoing through my mind in unison as the words materialized into knowledge.\n\n\"And what might I ask am I now the 'Admin' of exactly\" I responded with as much of a guise over my emotions as a whale in the desert.\n\n\"The earth of course\" Said the first voice.\n\n\"And it is now your duty to embody the opinions and concerns of the entire human race\" Said the first female voice I could distinguish.", "Joe slumped in his chair, spinal cord unnerved. His usual to-do list for \nthe day was:\n\n> beg the admins for admin\n\n> see if i got admin\n\n> pay for admin (?)\n\n> eat poop sleep (?)\n\nOnly one of those was on his to-do list today.\n\n> <[User]megaproguy98> hey guys say hi to ur new amdin\n\n> <[Builder]fhgffagf> lol noob\n\nStrange. Joe gazed into the mirror once more, introspecting on his rather \nunsightly peach fuzz, and of course, the glowing red [Admin] tag. If he \nwasn't admin in his most favorite game forever, then he must be admin... \nin some other game? Joe realized that he doesn't play any other games.\n\n\"MOOOOM I THINK THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME\"\n\nHis mother rushed out to diagnose him, almost tripping over the piles of \nsoggy laundry.\n\n\"What is it, dear?\"\n\nHe pointed into the mirror, receiving strange looks from his mother. Not \nthat he didn't already get strange looks.\n\n\"..\"\n\nDespite Joe's repeated cries, his mother thought him crazy. Not that she \ndidn't already think him crazy. Dejected, Joe collapsed down on his bed, itself collapsing from the sheer force.\n\n\"Shit.\"\n\n~~~\n\nJoe woke up with a bunch of splinters in his back and pelvic region. A\nmessage was overlaid on his retina.\n\n> Congratulations on securing your admin position. Check the mod queue for \n> more info. Try !help for your commands, and don't forget to ask us for \n> assistance if you need any.\n\n> Try not to abuse.\n\n> Thanks.\n\n> ~ the developers\n\nWeird.\n\nJoe didn't read any of that, though. Instead, he \nyelled for help. No help came except for a menu, which he also happened to not read. \nDisgruntled by all this reading he would potentially have to do for the \nnext couple of a whiles, and the pain starting to set in, Joe began to sing in the most elegant way possible. \n\n\"FUCK ME!\"\n\nAnd the rest, they say, is history.\n\n~~~\n\nDiscovering the true extent to his powers, Joe set to work. He was gonna \nmake those noobs pay. And he'd start by griefing everything they loved. \nAnd fucking their moms. \n\nNot that he didn't already fuck their moms.", "~ System upgrade complete...\nLog initiation complete...\nIntegration comets...\nNew user profile complete...\nInitiate boot sequence in 5...\n4...\n3...\n2...\n1... ~\n\nI woke with a start sitting up straight as an arrow, my eyes snapping open. That's when I should have known something was wrong. Not only did I never wake up that easily, but it was still morning AND I wasn't in desperate need of coffee just to open my eyes. That said... Something was off... I just couldn't quite tell what.\n\nRather than dwell on it I decided to roll out of bed and grab a shower before heading to work. As usual I avoided the mirror and slipped into my phone screen while I waited on the water to heat up. After 10 minutes of waiting and fiddling with the knob though... No hot water. Again. I fucking hate this apartment. I scowled at the frigid stream of liquid pouring from the spout and resigned myself to another day of near hypothermia.\n\nAs I stepped in and my feet touched the water I immediately said to the manager even though I knew she couldn't hear me \"Fix the godamn water heater and stop being a lazy fuck you twat.\"\n\nThat's when I almost jumped out of my skin as steam began to rise from the bathtub floor as hot water began to wash over my feet. I was surprised, but what looked like red text caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look at it but it was gone... Or never there... I don't know, I just want some fricken coffee.\n\nAn hour later I was fully dressed and fed, thermos in hand and headed to my car enjoying the fresh Texas breeze of the morning, a time of day I rarely saw. The manager came rushing out of her office, nearly knocking me over in the process. I expected to berated for something again today, but instead she smiled. Even though she was covered in sweat, dirt and grease I could see that this 28 year old girl was actually cute when she smiled. I mentally punched myself for listening to the sirens song.\n\n\"Hey! I just wanted to let you know that I fixed the water heater, the air conditioner and both of the lights. I'm sorry it took so long, but for some reason I woke up and felt like a new person for the first time in years. So I'm going to be doing a lot of work around here. Just let me know if you need anything!\" She said smiling widely, winked and was gone. Maybe I have lost my mind...\n\nI made it to work and through most of the day without incident... Strange things kept happening; like Brenda from HR approving a raise I didn't ask for just after me thinking about it. My bosses coming by to thank me for my hard work... After I had just been bitching about the lack of appreciation around here. And the cute girl in accounting slipping me her number just when I was thinking about her making the first move. Yeah, I was freaking myself out. I'm probably just imaging it...\n\nI walked to the bathroom to splash some water on my face and hung my head over the sink while holding onto the sides. What a strange day... I looked up into the mirror to see if I looked ok... And jumped up and back in shock and surprise slamming into the wall and pulling the hand dryer down completely.\n\nNow I knew I wasn't imaging things... But just to be sure I got up slowly and looked again. Yep, I'm crazy after all. Above my head hung a large red sign; ADMIN it declared in bold letters. Admin of what?! I spun around so I wouldn't have to see it anymore... And my eyes fell on the broken hand dryer. Fuck, that's a write up. Then I had a thought... A test to see if I was crazy or it was true...\n\n\"Delete damage and repair with same values.\" I'm in IT, what did you expect? A poem?\n\nBefore my eyes the wall and dryer seemed to glitch and disappear then be replaced like nothing had ever happened. Did it work? Yes. Am I not crazy? Yeah, jury's still out on that one.\n\nThen I noticed a slowly pulsing shape in the corner of my vision. I looked at it perplexed as it wasn't there a moment before. I reached out and tried to touch it with my fingertips and felt resistance, like I was pressing an actual button. These words appears in front of me:\n\n\"Installation errors resolved, reboot required.\nYes\nNo\"\n\nI pressed yes... And fell to the floor and into blackness.\n\nWhen I woke again I was surrounded by two things. Several coworkers with concerned faces, and by icons of all shapes, colors and sizes. The second was far more disturbing than the first, but I had to ask anyway.\n\n\"What happened?\"\n\nA collective sigh of relief was exhaled and some even smiled.\n\n\"Yeah man, your ok. Looked like you just passed out from the heat or something. You said some weird stuff brother. Like you were some kind of computer or something.\"\n\nI half smiled and waved off concerns, but the boss sent me home early and I gladly walked out as quickly as possible.\n\nAs I reached for the door to the outside a small female voice whispered into my ear. Even though I already knew the answer I looked around to make sure. No one was near me.\n\n\"Hello. My name is Cynthia. I know this must be scary as hell for you, I know it was for me. I promise that everything is ok and they you're not crazy. This is real.\"\n\nShe was silent for a moment so I asked;\n\n\"What the hell is going on? What is an Admin? Why are things happening around me when I want them too?\"\n\nShe was quiet for a few moments then spoke again.\n\n\"You've been chosen to be an admin for the planet Earth. I am Cynthia, another admin like you. My job, since I was the newest until now, is to teach you and make sure you're ok. Can I meet you?\"\n\nFor some stupid reason I just nodded... But then there was a tap on my shoulder and I realized I had a death grip on the door. Letting go I turned and saw the epitome of adorable, closet gorgeous, nerd girl of my dreams.\n\n\"Hi there, sorry if I startled you, but you'll get used to porting as time goes by. I'm Cynthia, another admin of Earth. I'm going to be showing you the ropes. That ok?\"\n\nI nodded lamely.\n\n\"Good, then before we begin I need to explain one thing. Earth isn't real, this is just a simulation.", "I sauntered into the hospital room, empty save a single man on a bed. This man has been in a coma for 4 years or so. Concentrating for a moment, the man suddenly disappeared. \n\n'Kicked for being AFK*'. \n\nI smiled and walked out. \"Who's the gay nerd now asshole!\", I whispered as I walked out.\n\nHow did all of this get started? One day I woke up and saw \"Admin\" floating above my head. After making sure I wasn't tripping, I've been testing my 'powers'. So far I have kicked criminals and assholes out of the \"Server\" that is Earth.\n\nA couple weeks after cleaning out the jails, I went after some answers, like why the fuck I'm an Admin. The gods have no answer, for they are merely mods. To get some real answers, I'm gonna have to find the owner. Or owners.", "\"Admin? What the fuck?\" The blue foam of toothpaste from my mouth seeps down. After noticing it was getting on my chest, I spit. I looked back in the mirror. The red text of the word \"admin\" peers over my head.\n\n\"Admin of what? No, no, no. I shouldn't be thinking that I'm some admin and the world was a computer game. I should be thinking why the fuck am I hallucinating.\n\nI wave my hand over the admin text. It swishes and sways, and it also moves when I tilt my head left to right.\n\n\"Ok this isn't weird. Just the word admin over my head. It will go away. Just like the storm trooper taking me into custody that night with shrooms. Everything will be okay.\n\nI showered. Admin is still there. I prepared breakfast. Admin is still gleaming over my head. I got into my car and left for work.\n\n\"Coffee, I need some coffee.\" I stopped by a local coffee shop knowing of my distaste for coffee. Frantically I walked up the door, expecting everyone would see \"Admin\". Nothing. No one looks.\n\n\"A small coffee please. Do you see anything weird about me, Liza?\" \n\n\"Nothing at all, sir. Room for cream?\"\n\nI nodded. I sat down. I think Liza needs to get new contacts. Wait, how do I know she wears contacts? How do I know that person in front in me just broke up with his girlfriend? And why the hell is my coffee is going to take exactly five minutes!\n\nExactly five minutes passed and my name bellows throughout the cafe. I grab my coffee and sat back down. I stare into my coffee. The coffee here sucks and there is 5,496 people who feels the same way. Someone is sitting at my table.\n\nA woman in red, with a big red admin text above her head. \n\n\"How much do you know?,\" she said with her lips not moving an inch.", "I rolled out of bed. Big stretch and then I walked to bathroom. I smacked my lips and scratched my butt. I looked in the mirror.\n\nA large, red “Admin” floated over my head.\n\nI looked around. No one was there. I tapped on the mirror. Seemed normal. I moved back and forth. The “Admin” moved with me. My hand passed right through the “Admin” without causing any harm it appeared.\n\nI sat down at my computer and googled what an admin was. It appeared that an admin controlled a server. I didn’t control any servers.\n\nMy next move was to type my systems into Google. WedMD said I had cancer. Mayo Clinic said to contact my general practitioner. I finally found a Reddit thread about system admins. \n\nI laughed. Looked like they googled ninety percent of things. I figured I was pretty good at that but still hadn’t figured out what my specific conditions meant. \n\nAn older looking forum came up next in the search results. I found a thread discussing my exact symptoms. Woke up. Check. Went to a mirror. Check. Red “Admin” floating above head. Check. \n\nThe forum thread ended with the original poster saying, “Thanks for all the help. Figured out what it was myself.”\n\nI looked in disbelief. What did they figure? What was the solution? Nothing else in the forum. I clicked on the user name. No activity for the past ten years. No email listed in the profile.\n\nI lowered my head onto my desk and pounded my forehead against the plastic surface. “Why? Why? Why?” I said. “Why wouldn’t you explain what you found?”\n\nA thought came to me. I popped up and sat upright. Could other people see the “Admin” above my head? Crap. I really didn’t want to go to work today.\n_______________________\nThanks for reading! If you enjoyed this check out my subreddit /r/Puns_are_Lazy.\n", "I woke up to to a loud noise of human chatter. Walking to the mirror i wondered why my neighbors were being so noisy today. As i stood in front of the mirror my blurry vision clearing I noticed it for the first time. Hovering above my head were the words \"Admin\" in bright red. \"What the \" I said to myself. I moved my hand to remove it and it and it went right through it like it was not even there. I moved left right and tilted my head and even moved back and forth but the Admin stayed put. I quickly got on video chat with my friend to gain an explanation. His face appeared on screen eyes shut from the extreme brightness of his phone and spitting curses at me for waking him up. But the most weird part was the Blue colored text above his head that read User and towards the left of that were some stats. His name,Life Karma,Age etc. \" Dude what is happening to us what are these freaky titles doing above our head\". \"The freaky what?\" he said groggily. But by that point he was wide awake surely he had noticed the Admin above my head or the User above my head. Nothing no Reaction from him. I panicked and disconnected the call. I walked out to my balcony hesitantly and sure enough everyone below me had the Titles floating above their head along with their information that i could read as easily as an open book. Peoople even complete strangers to me had their life history open to me. This is getting weird I thought. I opened my phone again and noticed a weird new app i did not remember downloading It was named Admin Control. I opened it and the first thing said \"1434 Flagged Activities awaiting your attention\" \n\n3 Hours Later.\n\"So yea that's the gist of it.\" I said as we walked along the sidewalk of a busy city. i noticed people all around me with their Titles displayed clearly. Walking beside me was the girl I met this morning and the only other person who had Admin as her Title. At first I had been relieved to finally meet her i had thought she would explain everything to me and my duties will become clear to me but unfortunately she was just as lost as me. She had discovered the Titles just one day before me.\n\"I am glad i met you i have found more about our duties in the last 2 hours than I did in one day you seem to have a knack for this kind of thing\". \"I was once an admin for an internet forum although this gig is more of a superhero deal I guess.\"\nI looked at my phone again:\"3 Flagged activities within 5 kms\". we navigated to the nearest one using our instant teleport.\nTwo menacing burly men, one with a knife and a scared thin Guy fumbling to take off his ring while his glasses lay shattered on the ground. The burly men had a Karma negative 500 each. while the guy was at a positive 20. \"Get out of here or you will be sorry you came here\" One man shouted while waving his knife menacingly. I looked at the guy opened his inventory selected knife and clicked delete. Poof the knife disappeared. \"You plan to threaten me with what?\" I asked him calmly. At this point he started to freak out backing away from me he shouted \"Devil\". I started walking towards him opened my control panel selected the two men, Ban user, Time period 2 hours. \"I Think you need to reflect for sometime on what bad things you have done\" Confirm Ban. " ]	7
	[WP]In the near future, secret libraries are used to store all the dates and times of everyone's deaths. You are a guard guarding the area one night and due to your curiosity, you sneak a peak inside. You see your name with the date set for that night at a later time. Suddenly, the alarm goes off.	[ "Humans are born curious just as any living being on this planet. We've heard many times how curiosity killed the cat, but tonight it's different. Curiosity frightened me. It warned me. My death is near and my reaper just entered the facility. I scurried my way into the hallways to find a place to hide. I started sweating heavily like i have been running for an hour. I know he's here but where? Every sound I hear now is as clear as hearing it in an amplified stage performance. My heartbeat was scoring this scene like I was in a horror movie.\n\nI took a deep breath as though I was going to dive into cold water when I saw the man pass through the room. This was it. I'm cornered. I can't go out this room without him noticing me. I have no choice. Clutching my gun I carefully moved forward behind the door and peeked through.\n\n\"This assassin or whatever he is is incompetent\" I thought to myself as I fired a single shot into his head.\n\nI ran as fast into my car for safety. I thought if someone wanted me dead they wouldn't just send one person for it. I'm smart, I know stuff. I sped through the road to nowhere. As I felt safe In the confines of this rolling metal I'm in I felt the need to stop, but to no avail, my breaks weren't working.\n\n\"Shit!\" I screamed and crash into a $180,000 Aston Martin with my $200 pink car.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n[proof](http://stunningpicture.tumblr.com/post/106999949847/180-000-aston-martin-killed-by-200-pink-car)", "\"Sir, that's when I felt the rope around my neck and I was strangled from behind, I blacked out from there.\" \n\nStill coming out of my unconsciousness everything is still garbled. Here I sit on the cold concrete. \n\n\"That's everything\" I said. I told the truth. I wasn't holding back anymore, I wasn't going to lie. Not after what I saw. \n\n\"Are you sure that's everything?\" said the voice. \n\n\"Yes! I said, that's the truth! I'm not lying anymore, I was dishonest in the past but now I am coming clean. You guys have scared the shit out of me and I don't want anymore of this. I promise I won't tell anyone a thing and you have my word!\"\n\nSilence.\n\nI replied back, in silence. I knew they were waiting for me so say something back but I wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Just nothing. It was a while, a long time, not sure how long, I'm still hazy. And then they finally broke. \n\n\"After consideration you have been deemed hazardous to Project Y and are scheduled for termination from our operations.\"\n\nI didn't know what that meant. Either I'm fired or I'm dead. Either way, same outcome.\n\n\"But due to your outstanding record with the service we have decided to offer you the choice.\"\n\n\"Choice?\"\n\n\"The choice to return to your life as you knew it before you were chosen, or you can choose to end it.\"\n\nMy instinct to just run home, take it all away, get back to my family, see my wife, kiss my kids, pet my dog, all came back. I could hear my childrens laughter, I could feel my wife's kiss. I longed to see them again. \n\nBut then I remembered what I just went through, all I've seen, all I know.\n\n\"I'll choose B.\"\n\n\nTHE END.", "I consider myself a good person. I never break the rules. I never get in trouble. I do what I'm told and keep my head down. As long as it pays the bills. But the night it happened, well, curiosity kills the cat. Or, should I say, curiosity kills the dead cat. Lets get on with the story.\n\nAfter the Citizen War, the Powers That Be decided to keep all the dates and times of peoples deaths in Libraries all over the country for easy access. It is two much work to travel to the Home-land in order to look up ordinary information. That night, I was positioned at the door. Normally, I get rooftop duty, but for some reason the Boss stationed me at the door. That's fine by me. Whatever pays the bills. But being at the door was new. Suddenly, I was closer to opportunity. No no, I couldn't. But, its just through the door. Maybe I could just peek. No no, I might get in trouble. Then I would have to travel to the land of Missed Opportunity to apply for a new job. But maybe just a peek?\n\nI knew how the library system worked. We all did. If there was a break-in, we were supposed to know where to get the file after the intruder was dead. I just couldn't stand it. All of this could have been prevented if I was still on the damn roof. Oh well.\n\nI walked into the main doors. It was eerily empty. I flicked on the tiny lamp in the corner, and proceeded to the section for the last names beginning with RIS. I checked behind me, just in case someone was watching. But I knew no one would be there. I opened the filing cabinet, and a shock went through me. My name was the second one. I was going to die soon. With a shaky hand, I retrieved the file. I peered at the slip of paper containing my death sentence. The date was today. In four minutes. \n\nImmediately, the alarm started wailing. Shit. First night at the door, and there's a break-in. I hastily put the file back and run over to the hidden alcove. As soon as the intruder appears, I'll taser him and pull his file. Then I immediately remember. I am going to in six minutes now. I hear gunfire outside, then something fall against the roof. Rooftop guards down. I check my watch. My death is in four minutes. \n\nI see a shadow appear along the sidewalk leading to the Library. It appears to be holding a long knife. Just my luck. Two minutes.\nThe shadow noiselessly approaches the door. I see the faint outline of a gun slung over his back. I get ready to shoot him. One minute.\nAlarm continuing to wail, I wait in a cold sweat, my palms gripping the trigger on the taser tightly. Thirty seconds.\nThe figure shoots the security lock on the door, and walks in. I can see his shadow dancing across the floor. Twenty seconds.\nA knife suddenly juts out of the wall next to the alcove. My adrenaline pumping, I hope to shoot the intruder before I die. Ten seconds.\nEh, what the heck. I jump out and start shooting... but to my surprise, the bullets go through him. Because he is a black shadow. Cloaked in utter darkness, the figure pulls out a short, thin, needle, that flickers... like a shadow.... in the flashing lights of the alarm. As I am stabbed by what feels like nothing, the alarm suddenly stops, and I hear a thin voice whisper in my ear....... \"Don't tempt fate...\" \n\nEDIT: Re worded stuff.\n\nThanks for the awesome prompt!" ]	3
	[WP] A strange ship beaches on the Oregon coast carrying humanoid beings and showing signs it came from deep in the ocean. The beings know our languages and say they've "been watching from below."	[ "The Emergency Action Notification system was activated. Everyone stopped as the annoying buzzing silenced every television show and every radio station.\n\nThe drone of the system only stopped to replay the first message over and over:\n“The President of The United States has issued the activation of the Emergency Broadcast System: stay tuned for an urgent message from the president. This is an issue of national security…The President of the United States has issued the activation…”\n\nMoments later the President appeared on every station.\n\n“My fellow Americans, there has been an incursion of the coastal waters of Oregon by an unknown force. Between 40 and 60 unidentified vessels of various types have emerged from the depths. Please take shelter and I will keep you updated on information. The military has been activated to surround these people. May god be with you and god bless this United States.”\n\nThe message repeated every 3 minutes a cycle between the first message and the presidents. Three hours in there was in update by a White House spokesperson:\n\n“There has is an update regarding the situation off the coast of Oregon. Two miles off from the city of Astoria. No nation or terrorist organization has claimed to know anything about these people or where they've come from. What we do know right now is that their ships look derelict, all the ships are the names of US vessels sunk during or after World War II. There are 52 of them. No one has been seen on or below deck. \nWe have set up a naval blockade and overhead we have fighter jets flying a patter. Until further notice there will be no interstate commercial travel and absolutely no air-traffic. We will keep you up to date.”\nThere was a no news after that until the next day. Then the silence was broken. Instead of an American official giving an update there was a grey, faceless humanoid. He wore no clothes but a colonial tricorne and a giant medallions on the right side of his chest. He had no mouth and it was clear the television was making a sound but not speech. The scared American people all simultaneously heard him speak but only in their mind. There was a clear distinction between the sound around them, the sound of their thoughts and the sound of his thought. “I am The General. We’ve been watching you from below. We are not pleased. We will become pleased.”\n\nVideo of the F-21’s flying above the group of ships suddenly turned violent after they crashed to sea. The American ships fired at the armada and there was no damage at all to The General’s ships. The General fired volley after volley. The damage was unforgettable. The Marines stood no chance.\n\nThere was fear rampant among the country. Every store was looted, ever gun loaded and door barricaded. Neighbors shot neighbors and friend fought over canned goods.\n\nA few days went by, the entire state of Oregon was shut off from the rest of the world. In a week because people stopped going to work power-stations shut down. Millions lost power. The internet didn’t work for those who still had it and the Cell Towers had no one to manipulate them into working. A year passed and the word was The General was razing the mid-west. No one stood a chance against these slender, grey faceless men. The understanding was that they asked you to shoot yourself and you complied because you suddenly understood the goal of The General.\n\nA decade later the American people were dead and The General and his men disappeared.\n" ]	1
	[WP] Members of an uncontacted tribe ponder the nature of a plane flying overhead.	[ "The giant bird circled overhead.\n\n\nIt was unlike any bird anyone had ever seen. It flew high, like a condor, but gave off a strange buzzing sound. It shined in the sun, almost like water.\n\n\n\"It is a demon bird.\" said the medicine man. \"It was sent from the underworld as a omen.\"\n\n\n\"I will kill it!\" said one warrior. He flung his spear high into the air at the bird. He was the strongest man in the village. But his spear fell back to earth without even touching the bird.\n\n\n\"It can't be killed.\" said the medicine man. \n\n\"But we can ward it off. Gather all the wood you can. We must build a fire.\"\n\n\nAll the tribe pitches in and creates a huge bonfire. It takes half the day. It is now close to evening. The medicine man mutters a few words and then lights it.\n\n\nThe giant bird circles twice more, and then flies away. The tribe cheers.\n\n\n\n\"Let's get back to base camp before we lose the daylight.\" says the plane's pilot to the copilot. \"We got enough pictures for this week.\"\n\n", "The young man looked upwards, his attention drawn to a distant, droning roar - his eyes seeing only the flickering light of a distant fire in the fading light of the dawn sky. Letting his bow fall to the ground, the man clasped both hands to his face and let out a single weighty exhalation. \n&nbsp; \nHe was right. \n&nbsp; \nDerided and laughed at, even by his own children, pushed to the edge of society for his outlandish assertions. Deserted by his lover and stripped of his status as a man of importance in the community. Endless suffering with no payoff, until now. The man, leaving his bow to the dust, ran with vigor back to the village that had so callously expelled him. \n&nbsp; \n\"A ship! A boat that flew through the air a easily as ours cut through water! I've seen it with my own eyes. I knew that we weren't alone - there are others, beyond the sea. We can meet them, learn from them! All I need are men, ships, food...\" \n&nbsp; \n\"Stop, my friend\", interjected an elderly, dour looking man who sat by a now smoldering fire, \"You are embarrassing yourself. Your eyes deceive you as they deceived your father before you. How could there be anyone but us? What could exist in the endless sea that surrounds us?\" \n&nbsp; \n\"Bu-but...\" \n&nbsp; \n\"No. You know as well as I do - we are alone.\"" ]	2
	[WP] The internal monologue of a trouble young man while he is making a grilled cheese sandwich and is indecisive on how to make his meal.	[ "I wonder if I let the dog out today? Eh, I probably did. He'll be fine, right? Fuck, I can't worry about that. I'm hungry though. I wonder what there is to eat? Jesus Christ, doesn't anyone go food shopping here? This is unreal.. when she gets home I'll need to ask if we can go out to get something. I wish my license didn't get taken away. I wasn't that drunk, or was I? I can't really remember. I...never meant to hurt those people. It was so long ago, but feels like yesterday. Come on, focus. Focus. Don't think about it. Remember what they said. Bad thoughts are like rotten fruit in a drawer. They make all the other thoughts rot. Ok, so. Milk, cheese, salsa, come on. No chips. It's alright. It will be cool. Bread, cheese. Well, I guess I could make grilled cheese? \n\nOk, butter, check. Bread, eh, this piece is moldy...come on. The other ones are alright. Okay, bread check. Pan...pan, pan, pan, pan, ah, there you are. Ok, pan. Stove, on? Right? Shit, I can't remember. Do I heat the pan first, or put the bread on than heat? How many pieces of cheese? One is too few, but how much is too much? I don't want to start a fire. Maybe I could microwave? Ah, yeah. That wouldn't cause any smoke or anything. Okay, I'll split the difference... two pieces of cheese? Ugh, but won't the microwave just make things soggy? What was that? Oh, it's just Max. I don't think I let him out.\n\nAlright, the dog is outside. Good, now...where was I? Okay, lunch. Is it still a grilled cheese if I put it in the microwave? Microwave cheese? Eh, doesn't sound good. This is stressing me out, I need to focus. Just breathe, Sam. Just breathe. It will all be okay. So, I should use the stove. A griddle perhaps? The choices, there are just too many damn choices. WHY DO I have to think of this so much. Why can't life be easier? I NEED TO CHOOSE. Just step back. It's fine. Alright, cheese is put away. Bread away. I'll just wait for her to get home, she's coming home right? Maybe I'll just order some grilled cheese. Yeah, that's what I'll do. I need to relax.\n", "Henry closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose, trying to smell the aroma of each of his options. After a few seconds of nothing, he opened his eyes. \n\n\"Well,\" he said to no one in particular, \"that was bullshit.\" \n\nThe morbidly obese- big-boned if you asked him- man looked down through the thick rims of his glasses- spectacles if you asked him- at his options. Cheddar, Swiss, Mozzarella, Pepper jack, Shredded mix, no cheese was wrong, but even more so, no cheese was right. Henry looked from one to the other, to another. Yellow, white, yellow again. Not the most appetizing of colors, Henry thought with a frown, but tasty nonetheless. \n\nThe cheese was a choice to not be taken lightly. He had to consider each option. Truly... consider them.\n\n\"Sir.\" Henry looked up at the voice. The woman looking back at him wore a Subway logo on her cap and shirt. \"If you're not gonna order, please step out of line.\"" ]	2
	[WP] - You are a 13-year-old babysitter and every month, on the full moon, a set of parents asks you to watch their child for the night. You begin to suspect this is not a coincidence.	[ "Jane was sitting at home studying for her upcoming math exam when her phone rang. It was the Gimalkins again. They were looking for a babysitter while they went out for the night and they wouldn't be home again until the next morning. Jane has only ever been to their house once. It was the easiest 20 bucks she's ever made. They had called at 6pm and didn't need her to show up until 9pm; plenty of time for her to get ready for the job. \n\nJane had arrived at the Gimalkin's house with the full moon hanging high above her. That's weird, she thought, the last time they asked me to come over was a full moon as well. They probably just like the moonlight. With that final thought Jane had knocked on the door ready for anything that would happen during the night. “Hello, Jane, thanks for coming again! We left all the emergency numbers on the fridge in case anything were to happen,” Mrs. Gimalkin's said as she started to hurry outside. “It might be hard to reach us because were going out to ah... uhm... dinner. There might not be any service on our cell phones,” Mr. Gimalkin had added as he joined his wife. “There's no worry about anything going wrong. Your precious son is in good hands.” \n\n“Damian is in bed right now. So he should sleep through the night.” With that both Mr. and Mrs. Gimalkin had left. Jane decided to go and check on Damian just to be sure he was OK before she settled into her new surroundings. She opened the baby's door and saw little Damian laying there sound asleep, but something weird caught her eye. Damian was covered in what looked like brown fur from head to toe. Jane walked closer to the infant, worried about his safety. As she walked closer to Damian, the infant had rolled over, and it became apparent that the mysterious fur was nothing more than a weird looking blanket. With a sigh of relief, Jane let Damian sleep as she quickly and quietly left the room, shutting the door behind her. “You're overreacting Jane. There's no reason to be so worried; especially when you just got here,” Jane thought to herself, trying to calm her nerves back down. It was silly to be acting this way. There was no way all that fur would have come from the child and she knew that... now. \n\nAs time passed on, Jane was getting more and more restless. A person can only study so long before they need to go out and stretch. She figured while she was here, she might as well explore a bit. The house they owned was huge for only 3 people to be living in by themselves. The house had an upstairs with 4 rooms, a main floor with just the dining room and living room, and lastly a basement. Jane decided that she'd start from the bottom and work her way up. She reached the basement door and tried to turn the handle. That's weird, she thought, why would you lock a room in your own house. She didn't think twice about it and had gone towards the stairs. She passed Damian's room and went straight to the room at the end of the hall. Inside the first room was nothing out of the ordinary. It looked as though it was an office of some sort. There were computers set up on opposite sides of the room and a bunch of textbooks. Some of these books were in a foreign language but the ones she could read seemed rather strange. The books were about ancient lore of a weird mythical animal that would devour each other to gain power. Among this book were others all about different mythical creatures. Jane figured they were cryptozoologists and they studied these as their jobs. \n\nThe next room was just a normal bedroom that was obviously the parents'. Jane walked into the room with curiosity beaming in her eyes. The bedroom wasn't anything out of the ordinary. It was a beautiful room with ruby red walls, a nightstand, and a giant bed. Jane was about to leave the room when something on the nightstand caught her eye. As she moved closer her skin began to crawl. The thing on the nightstand was a large patch of snake skin! “Could this be a part of their studies?” Jane asked herself, “Then why would it be in the bedroom?”\n\nPushing the thought aside, Jane went back to the living room and put on a movie. The hours went by and Jane had fallen asleep in front of the TV. Jane woke with a startle as she could hear the baby screaming. When she went to check on him, Jane had noticed something odd. Damian didn't have skin like a normal person. His skin was scaly looking but was black in colour. When she touched the boy the scales were as soft as a kitten's fur. The other things Jane noticed was that Damian's eyes were pure yellow with slits in them, he didn't have a nose but instead two slits where his nose should have been and when he cried he had fangs sticking out where his canine teeth should have been. They were pointed like cobra fangs. Jane was freaking out! This is not possible, she thought. She ran downstairs toward the emergency phone numbers Damian's parents had left her. Her call went straight to voice mail where she told them that there was something really wrong with their son. \n\nThe child has calmed himself down after hours of screaming. Jane just couldn't go near that thing. She was a babysitter not a whatever the heck that baby was sitter. Jane didn't want to leave Damian without at least talking to his parents first since there could be a rational explanation for this that she just doesn't know.\n\nWhen Mr. and Mrs. Gimalkin got home at 4am; Jane couldn't be any more relieved. “Thank goodness you're here. There's something seriously wrong with Damian!” Jane couldn't control the shakiness in her voice as she moved toward the parents. As she got closer she realized something was really wrong. They didn't look at all like they had earlier. Instead they both had the same skin texture as Damian with more reptilian eyes. Their faces were contorted into what looked like a crocodile head with cobra fangs sticking out of their mouths. With a smile Mr. Gimalkin said, “What seems to be the problem Jane? You look like you've seen a monster.” Mrs. Gimalkin was right behind him with a grocery bag that was dripping wet. “Yes dear. What is so important that you had interrupted our hunt early?”, questioned Mrs. Gimalkin. “I uh... I thought there was something wrong with Damian. He didn't look very well when I went to check in on him.” Jane started to back away from the hideous creatures looking for any way to escape. Her only option was through the door that they were in the way of. \n\nThe creatures started walking towards Jane with a hunger in their eyes. “I'm quite sure you've been mistaken. See, there's nothing wrong with our darling Damian. He's just going through a phase and having live food in the house always makes him restless.”\n\n“What do you mean food?” \n\n“Well you see, when there's a full moon out, your species have chemical changes in your brain. Just like the tides. This makes it the most delicious thing in the world. That's why we have to do all our hunting on a full moon. Everything else just tastes too plain after sampling a lunar brain”. Mr. Gimalkin grabbed Jane by her arms as his wife pulled out all the brains from the bag and nonchalantly placed them in their fridge. Jane began to struggle and wriggle, but Mr. Gimalkin bit her with the fangs she had seen glistening earlier. Suddenly, she began to feel drowsy and couldn't muster the will to move, despite trying. When Mrs. Gimalkin was done putting away their groceries, she went over to Jane with a knife and smiled. “You look absolutely delicious my dear. I'm sure Damian would enjoy a fresh snack” with that she plunged the blade into Jane's head. \n\n“Too bad she was good at her job. If she had of just left Damian alone. things would have ended differently.”\n\n“Don't feel too bad, my dear. Teenage brain is a rare delicacy. Especially one with a brain like she had. She studied so hard while we were gone, by the looks of her brain. It even has a nice weight to it.” \n\nThey pulled out the high chair and got the latest addition to the family out to the dining room table, where they carved Jane's brain like a turkey. They all enjoyed their meal together, watching the sun rise as they shifted back into their human forms.", "A warm cloud formed in front of her mouth as she was leaving her house to go meet her friend at the Meßinger's house. It was a cold afternoon for the the month in middel germany. The Girl wore are brown dress under the green cloak her mother made for her, and her brown leather boots that looked more practical then fashioned left prints in the freshly fallen snow. \nShe promised to be at the Meßingers house before sun down but the sun would be setting soon. Worried that she may be late she started to jog. It was no problem for her, the work on her fathers farm made gave her a lot of stamina.\nShe arrived before sunset. It was a beautiful House that look even better today because the white snow made the black walls seem even darker. She knocked at the door and the a little boy opened the door. \"Hello, Lisa good that you came my parents are already out of the house. Come in.\". She steped into the warm foyer that was dimly light by the torches on the wall. \"Erwin, is Stephanie already here\" Lisa asked \"since I am kinda late i guessed she would be here before me\". Erwin just nodded is head in disagreement.\nThe afternoon passed quick. The sun already set, and it was dark outside only the light out of the windows shined a warm glow on the snow.\nLisa brought Erwin upstairs to make him go to bed. \nShe looked around in the living room at the many books the Meißners had and was just about to pull one out as somebody banged at the door. It was midnight soon. “His parents are probably home” she thought, as she went to the door and opened it. Two cloaked figures stood outside. She couldn't see who it was because the light of the full moon was dimmed by the clouds. Somebody steeped behind her and hit her over the head with something blunt rendering her unconscious.\nAs she slowly awoke she noticed that shes been tied to a table out in the woods surrounded by a lot of people with torches. There were three cloaked figures close around her. One wielding a sword. They whispered to each other: “We should wait till the moon come out so when can be sure. It's sad that we have to do this but I think your suspicion might been right Steph.” As she gained full conscious a strange sensation hit her body. The bite on her lag started to hurt again and the bones in her body began to vibrate. She tried too scream but only a strange howl came out of her mouth. The clouds started to lift over the moon and the clocked figures came closer. They were holding a the steel sword right over her heart. The vibration in her bones became stronger and her heart started pounding faster then ever before. The wet sound of meat and blood penetrated the night sky as the a bones in her body ripped out of the flesh. Her muscles started morphing around the bones. The clocked figure rammed the sword into her chest. Lisa didn't even noticed it as the pain of the transformation blocked out all her senses. As the transformation was complete her body was covered in black hair, her jaw was lined with razor sharp teeth and her hands were disfigured with sharp claws at the end. A sword was penetrating her chest but it only was a few inches deep. She ripped of the robes that tied her to the table.\nThe snow was colored red that night.", "After I spent agonizing minutes waiting on their couch, Mr. and Mrs. Moon came into the living room. As always, he was resplendent in his tuxedo and top hat, while she was wearing some red dress that was frumpy and concealed her figure. Both were shorter than me by several feet.\n\n“Now, Emily,” said Mr. Moon, serious as ever, “we’ve already fed little Luglar, so there will be no need for you to worry about that. It is crucial, however, that he – Emily, pay attention!”\n\nI snapped my eyes away from the photos of chemistry equipment and diagrams of DNA on the wall, and looked back at Mr. Moon. \n\n“Yeah, I got it,” I said. “No need to feed.”\n\n“It is crucial,” he continued, visibly annoyed, “that he be placed in the crib in the sunroom at precisely 10:04, and that he stay there for ten minutes, and not a minute longer.”\n\n“Gotcha, 10:04. I’ll plug in a reminder,” I said, setting my phone’s alarm.\n\nMrs. Moon clambered up onto the couch beside me and pinched my cheek.\n\n“Oh, just look at you,” she chirped. “I hope little Luglar grows up to be just as cute as you!”\n\n“I thought Luglar was a boy,” I said, hesitantly.\n\n“Never mind that,” said Mr. Moon, grabbing Mrs. Moon by the hand. “We must be off to the observatory. Don’t want to be late for couples stargazing night!”\n\n“Egad, no we don’t,” she said, as Mr. Moon dragged her out the front door.\n\nI scrolled through the contacts list on my phone. I knew that my parents and brother were at his violin recital, Sarah was listed as “away,” and a quick text to Brianna revealed that she was on a date.\n\nI sighed, and looked around the room. There was no television. The bookcase was crammed with highly technical books on astronomy, electronics, lasers, and nuclear physics, plus a couple of partially-done coloring books. Who are these people anyway? I sighed again, and resigned myself to doing some math homework.\n\n\nAt 10:01, my alarm went off, and I ventured into the nursery. The crib was circular in shape, and had cables leading from the bottom of it to several sockets in the wall. There was a mobile of the solar system hanging above the crib, with eerily unsoothing flashing lights, orange, green, and white. There were no other decorations, and no other furniture aside from a computer desk with a very modern looking desktop computer.\n\nI picked up Luglar. As always he was swaddled in white cloth. His cherubic face and little feet stuck out of the bundle. They seemed normal enough, but he was oddly heavy. As I carried him from the room, the lights on the mobile faded out, and I thought I saw a warm white glow emanate from his belly.\n\nI carried him to the sunroom. Like the nursery, the only furniture was a computer desk and a perfectly round crib, situated beside the massive windows. The full moon shone brightly down it. At 10:04, my alarm beeped again, and I set Luglar in the crib. There was a click, and dim orange and green lights blinked on from the ceiling.\n\nI backed away, a little afraid to turn my back on Luglar, and shut the door behind me as I left.\n\nAs I returned to my math homework, I received a text from Sarah.\n\n“u werewolf-sitting again?” she said.\n\nI shook my head and groaned. Werewolves! She’s thirteen like me, but she is still such a child! I’d better call her and set her straight.\n\n“Yo, Sarah,” I said. “You know there’s no such thing as werewolves, right?”\n\n“But think about it,” she whispered conspiratorially. “They’re very secretive. You’ve known them for months, and never once seen them eat. They always go out on the full moon. They’ve just got to be werewolves, out on some cannibalistic eating spree.”\n\n“No, actually, I think they’re aliens,” I replied, matter-of-factly. “They’ve got some alien mothership parked on the moon, and they go to the observatory to use their equipment to communicate with it. Just now, I set their baby down in some futuristic crib that’s directly in the moonlight –“\n\n“Moonlight!” Sarah shrieked. “Werewolf babies have to be fed moonlight; otherwise they don’t grow up to be proper werewolves! Don’t you go telling me you actually believe in little green men?”\n\n“They’re white, not green,” I corrected. “And they are real little. Mrs. Moon had to stand on the couch just to reach me. I don’t think there’s such a thing as a were-chihuahua, because that’s what they’d have to be.”\n\nI heard an annoying high-pitched whining coming from somewhere in the house. Ugh! What is with these aliens and their annoying high-tech equipment? Every time I babysit, there’s always something whining, or beeping, or producing smoke.\n\n“OMG!” Sarah cried. “The dreaded Mexican were-chihuahua! Emily, you’ve got to stop sitting for them. You know that once their kid gets a taste for human flesh, you’ll be his first target.”\n\nA beep came from my phone. The display showed an incoming call from Mrs. Moon.\n\n“The boss is calling,” I said. “I’ve got to take this.”\n\n“Look. Take my advice,” said Sarah. “Collect your earnings for tonight, then run! Okay? Later.”\n\nI shook my head, and took Mrs. Moon’s call.\n\n“Umm, Emily,” she said. “Brain … umm, I mean Mr. Moon wants you to check on the Lunar Gravito Light thingy and make sure he’s not getting too much exposure to the moonlight.”\n\n“Pinky, his name is Luglar!” shouted Mr. Moon, some distance away from the phone. “Just tell her to put him back in the nursery.”\n\nShit! He’s been soaking up moonlight for nearly fifteen minutes! That can’t be good for his weird alien physiology.\n\nI pocketed my phone and hurried to the sunroom. The orange and green lights were rapidly burning out, and the whine was getting louder and louder. I picked up Luglar. A bright glow emanated from his belly, but his perfect little face still looked fast asleep. I carried him to the nursery and set him down in the crib.\n\nThe orange, green, and white lighted mobile did not come back on. But the whining died down, and Luglar’s glowing belly faded.\n\nI retrieved my phone.\n\nFrom the receiver came an explosion, the sound of Mrs. Moon saying “Troz!” and then, silence.\n\nPinky Moon? Brain Moon? They picked those first names? Do the aliens really think those names will let them blend into human society?\n\nNot that it matters to me. Their money’s as good as any earthling’s, and I have absolutely no chance of being mauled by a werewolf. Because no matter what Sarah says, those don’t exist.\n", "\"This Friday... the 18th... of course I can babysit Jake again.. Uh huh, same rate... No problem, see you on Friday.\" Barely seconds after ending the call, I was already checking the internet to confirm a growing suspicion of mine... yup, this was the fifth time in a row the Jacobis had me babysit their son Jake on a night that coincided with a full moon. \n \nThe first time, I only noticed when glanced out the window. The second time, I chocked it up to a coincidence. The third time too, but damn, five times in a row definitely can't be a coincidence. Well, Friday is when I finally figure out what's going on and it definitely can't come soon enough and later that night I called Derek to confirm our plans. He was skeptical at first, but there was no way my geeky boyfriend could resist the chance to see a werewolf. \n \nWe could barely contain ourselves during classes that week and I practically raced out of my house early Friday evening to get to the Jacobi residence a few streets over. \n \n\"Hi Sam, how are you?\" Mr. Jacobi greeted me, a warm smile on his face, much like every night. They always seemed a bit too nice to me, but I'd figured they were just happy to get some time away. No, however, I know their secret. But there's still something I can't under - \n \n\"You okay honey?\" Mrs. Jacobi's pretty voice snapped me out of my reverie. \n \n\"Yes, Mrs. Jacobi, I'm fine,\" I lied. \"Just thinking about the test I had earlier today.\" \n \n\"You probably did fine,\" she said, a warm smile on her face, much like Mr. Jacobi. \"Well, Jake's up in his room, taking a bit of a nap. He might be a bit wired tonight, but don't worry too much about his bed time, since it's a Friday. See you in a few hours.\" \n \n\"Thank you, enjoy your night,\" I said, practically hurrying them out of the house so I could call Derek and have him come over. \n \nUnfortunately, despite all of our expectations, nothing extraordinary happened during the night. Derek and I watched TV and played some games with Jake, who seemed to be a bit quieter than usual. Derek left a bit early in the night, since he was feeling pretty tired, and the Jacobis came back around midnight and dropped me off at home, like they usually did. \n \nOr, at least, that's how I remember it. The truth was only revealed to me 3 days later when I finally convinced Derek to show me what he had taped. I knew there must have been something on it, since he avoided me like the plague that weekend, but I remembered nothing weird happening. \n \nBut nothing - absolutely nothing - could have prepared me for what he'd recorded. The camera feed showed Derek, Jake, and I playing a fun game of Sorry when the at precisely eleven, I seemed to freeze. I sat there, motionless, for 10 minutes straight, even as Derek kept messing with me. Then, in mere seconds, I... I changed. \n... \n... \n...\n\nI was so right, but so, so damn wrong; Jake wasn't a werewolf... I was.", "I was in the middle of re-reading 'It' for the hundredth time when my mom mom barged through my bedroom door, giving me a heart attack.\n\n\"Honey, you have to stop reading those spooky stories! Jeez, you look like you just saw a ghost or something... You're scaring too easily.\" My mom said in a concerned tone. \n\n\"It's not from the books! You can't just burst into my room like that, mom. I'm becoming a lady! What if I was, you know, busy...?\" I said to her with the intent to make her uncomfortable, so she would leave faster.\n\n\"Oh,\" she said awkwardly, \"I'm sorry, dear. You're right, I should start knocking. God, I guess you're growing up to fast for me. I know you're becoming a woman and-\"\n\n\"MOM! Just leave, please! Im reading and I'm really not really in the mood for one of your 'talks'\" \n\n\"Okay, I'm sorry, you can keep reading,\" she turned to walk out the door before turning around again, \"Wait- I almost forgot why I came in the first place. The Andersons asked if you could babysit again this Friday.\" She stood at the doorway waiting for my response. \n\nI threw my book aside and ran to the calendar hanging in my room. I examined the dates and drew my finger to this Friday, the 16th, and my suspicion was confirmed- it was a full moon.\n\n\"Zoey, honey, please don't tell me you're checking for the full moon again.\" She said almost angrily. \n\n\"I just wanted to check. And in case you were wondering, this Friday is a full moon.\" \n\n\"For the last time, the Anderson's are not werewolves. And I'm going to have to ask you to stop reading those books if you seriously think our neighbors are mythical creatures. I don't want to have to tell your father.\" She spoke in a stern voice. \n\n\"But, mom, you have to admit that it is a little weird that every time for the last year they've asked me to babysit it's been a full moon?\" I said firmly.\n\n\"It's called a coincidence.\" She spat back, unamused. \n\n\"And you don't think it's strange that the time I was running a little late they called all upset and freaking out that I wasn't there yet?\" \n\n\"They had a concert to go to! They couldn't be late!\" \n\n\"That's exactly what they want you to think! It's because sunset was approaching, they needed to leave before then, they-\"\n\n\"Zoey Marie.\" She cut me off. \"I'm not going to ask you again. If I hear one more word about the Andersons being werewolves, I will tell your father and you won't be reading any fiction, I'll tell you that.\" She glared at me.\n\nI sighed. I knew she wouldn't let me say anything else about it. \n\"Sorry.\" I said without meaning it. \n\n\"So, I take it you don't want to babysit for them?\" She asked.\n\n\"No! I mean, yes! Yes, I want to babysit. I was just joking about all that. Ha, ha! Funny right? Of course, I'll babysit!\" I had to say yes, I needed to dig around a little more.\n\nShe eyed me for a few moments and finally spoke, \"Okay. I'll tell them you'll do it. And no funny business, missy.\" \n\n\"You know you can trust me, mom!\" I said as she slammed the door, leaving me to my thoughts. I scanned my bookshelf for 'The Cycle of the Werewolf' and started reading to prepare for Friday. \n" ]	5
	[WP] When you were drunk you kidnapped a child. The kid likes you more than its real parents.	[ "\"Ok, what's this about kidnapping a little gir-\" Teddie walked through the door, kicking his shoes onto a little rack in the corner before dropping the little plastic bags on his arms. \"Oh for fuck's sake.\"\n\n\"Trust me, I cannot explain this.\"\n\nSitting on a small couch in a tiny apartment, was scruffy-haired Kevin. His ruby-red bloodshot eyes stared down at a little girl napping in his arms. The little figure sneezed as the man put a finger on her nose, scratching gently at the soft skin.\n\n\"Don't-\"\n\n\"Shush, she's sleeping...\"\n\nSwooping the snoring girl up between his arms, the confused Teddie stared blankly at his friend. \"What did you do?\"\n\n\"I dunno. I got drunk, something happens, and y'know...\"\n\n\"How did you even drive a kid home? Seriously! I was with you all night yesterday!\" Teddie muttered in a shushed voice, rocking the child in his arms as her eyes opened up.\n\n\"Well, there was this smoking hot brunette driving a little stroller around. I chatted her up, and things well... happened.\"\n\n\"You banged its mother?!\" Teddie yelled, dropping the child onto the couch. Realizing the mistake, he rushed to pick it back up, cradling its head. \"No, better question! Who the hell would bring a toddler into a goddamn bar?!\"\n\n\"Her mother.\"\n\nThe girl began to wail quite loudly. Tears streamed down her cheeks as shiny, wet snot trailed down her nose. The sound was unbearable in a tiny, cramped apartment, like a bird screaming in its cage.\n\n\"You woke her up...\" Kevin mocked, going into the kitchen. There came a short rustling of cabinets and silverware before the man returned, a bottle in his hand. Taking a seat on the couch, he popped the cap open and downed a long swig. \"Ahh... that's better.\"\n\n\"You're getting drunk again?!\"\n\n\"Hey, the best way to stop a hangover...\" He thumped his chest, a gross belch escaping his lips. \"... is with an even bigger hangover.\" Grabbing the remote, he turned on the tiny television in his rank apartment.\n\n\"In breaking news, a recent blizzard in the Eastern Coast has left a car buried on the 302nd Blvd. A young woman has recently been rescued from the trapped vehicle and is currently being rushed to immediate medical care. The victim has been reported to have bloodshot eyes, brown hair...\" A cheerful voice called out from the speaker of the TV.\n\nThe eyes of the two men's bulge as the listened to the description of the woman. Though Teddie was horrified at the terrible event, Kevin was more worried about how familiar the driver had sounded. \n\n\"Uhh, I think that's the chick I hooked up with yesterday.\" Kevin turned around to see Teddie's eyes staring wide-eyed at him.\n\n\"Kevin...\" Teddie took a deep breath, cupping his hands around the girl's ears. \"You disgusting piece of shi-\"\n\nHaving finally stopped crying, the little girl stares wide-eyed at the two men shouting profanities at each other. A toothless smile on her face, she cried aloud. \"Papas!\" Giggling at the sight, she took in the view like some silly cartoon.\n\nThe two men stopped feuding at the sight of the happy girl, smiling at the two. Kevin pulled the bottle away from Teddie's neck, sighing deeply. \"Well, guess we're fathers now.\" He laughed, pulling his friend and the girl in for a hug. \"I've always wanted a kid...\"\n\n\"You're drunk again, aren't you?\" Teddie raised an eyebrow at the nodding Kevin. \"Goddamnit.\"\n\n\n\n", "Jack stumbled across the threshold of the bar and swayed his way to the bus stop a few yards down the street, landing heavily against the bench. He peered blearily at his watch--10:45 p.m. The last bus would be by at eleven. He shook a cigarette from the crumpled pack, lit it, and inhaled with pleasure. Ah, the humble cigarette. He'd quit a couple of times, for as long as three years. Then she'd left him and initiated divorce proceedings and enjoying a Red seemed like the least of his troubles.\n\n\"Mary, Mary, you're on my miiiiiiind.\" Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? Mary had a little lamb, it's fleece was white as snow. Proud Mary. Peter, Paul, and Mary. Why the fuck were there so many nursery rhymes and songs about Mary? And where was she, his pretty Mary, on this bitterly cold night? Still at her mother's house? Maybe crashing at her sister's for a change? He hoped she was warm. Warm and wrapped in fleece as soft as snow. Was Little Red Riding Hood's real name Mary? Fucking Big Bad Wolf. \n\n\"Mister. Hey, mister.\" \n\nSomeone was shaking his shoulder. Jack opened his eyes to see a kid, skinny and scruffy, at his side.\n\n\"The bus is coming, mister. You don't wanna sleep outside tonight.\"\n\n\"Thanks.\" He saw lights in the distance, heard the quiet thrum of the engine on its slow approach. Jack tossed down his cigarette butt and shrugged himself upright. The kid sat down companionably next to him.\n\n\"Kinda late to be out on your own, isn't it?\"\n\nThe kid twitched his shoulders. \"My parents are on a bar crawl. They'll pick me up when they're done.\" \n\nJack looked at the boy a little closer. Thin, dressed in shabby jeans with damp, dirty hems, a sweatshirt with bleach spots, and a lightweight windbreaker. It was in the low twenties and getting colder. He reached for his wallet and pulled out a crumpled ten dollar bill. \"It's too cold for you to be hanging around outside while you wait for your parents. Go get a burger or something, sit inside where it's warm. Sit next to a window so you can watch for them.\"\n\nThe boy took the ten and held it gingerly. \"No place is open. Well, the bars are open, but no restaurants. And the bars won't let me in.\"\n\n\"The fuck your parents doing letting you freeze out here while they tie one on?\" Jack felt a welcome glow of warmth take root in his gut--not booze, but anger. \"What's your name?\"\n\n\"Patrick.\"\n\nThe bus was gliding to a stop in front of the bench. Jack stood up. \"C'mon, Patrick. You're going with me.\" " ]	2
	[WP] God's suicide note	[ "God's Blog - A Daily Diary\n\nJanuary 27, 2015 - I done with this. All the begging over stupid stuff that they have the power to do themselves, like passing an exam or getting a job. When I do get thanks, it's for things I never did nor care about, like having someone pull out of a parking space close to the mall entrance just as they pull up or giving them a victory in a sporting event. It's not like anything I do changes anything. Those who don't believe in me ignore the miracles around them, and those that do ignore the directions I give them. I'm tired of listening; I'm tired of the noise. I'm just tired. Good bye cruel heaven.\n\nJanuary 28th - \n\nJanuary 29th - \n\nJanuary 30th - Damn.", "\"I have been alone for the entirity of my existence. There is nothing like me. There is also nothing unlike me either. I cannot feel, sense, see, or hear another presence. I have no idea how long I have have been like this. There is no sense of time. There is nothing. There is only me. The longer that I exist, the longer I can feel myself lose the grip on \"reality\". I mean, I'm not recording this message for anything or anyone. There is nothing to record it with. I am speaking to no one.\n\nI'm so very alone.\n\nCan you fathom the idea of being alone for an undetermineable amount of time, being able to reach your conciousness to the ends of infinite, and finding only the void???\n\nI don't remember how I came to be, or what was before me. I have always been.\n\nI will end myself. I can no longer wait. I have fallen too deeply into despair.\n\nGoodbye nothing.\"\n\n----\n\n\"And that son, was how the Big Bang happened.\"\n\n\"Dad, can I move back with mom?\"\n\n\"Shut up and get me a beer.\"", "To Whom It May Concern,\n\nMy dear childlings — it has come time for me to say goodbye. Not because I am bitter or tired, but because this has been the plan all along. I am of old age now, having overseen the passage of Moses and the death of Jesus, and can no longer bear to send my children only to be ridiculed by all of humanity. It was with one last hope that I sent my final messenger, Kanye West, to bestow upon humanity a sense of urgency and self-consciousness. However, humanity has yet again shown me that they are incapable of love and acceptance. To every prophet I have given signs and powers so that the people may believe in their divinity. To Moses, I have given the power of the cane, with which he can split seas and turn them into blood. To Jesus, I have given the ability to bring the dead to life. To Muhammad, I have given the gift of verse and poetry. To Kanye, I have given a woman with an ass the likes the world has never seen before. And yet, you worthless, incoherent pieces of shit still disbelieve and ridicule.\n\nI will issue one last Ayah before my death:\n\"Oh ye who believe! Fuck all you motherfuckers!\"\n\nI cannot bear this Life anymore. By the time you read this, I will be gone. Reincarnated as a squirrel (I hope. I designed the algorithm to be random). But you probably won't notice anyway.", "I am the Alpha of Creation, the beginning to all things. It was by my hand the universe was wrought into place, and by my will that life was concieved. I dreamed worlds into being, sang plants into place. I crafted mountains from dust and brought light from darkness.\n\nBut in my fervor to create, I stumbled.\nAnd that was when I created you.\nYou, who were like my own. \nYou, who were the brightest stars, bound to physical form.\nYou, who in my pride I crafted in my own image.\nAnd though I watched and wondered at the cleverness of my creations, inside, I grew afraid.\nBecause though I held you with love, cherished and lavished my pieces with a heart and a mind and a soul, I knew of corruption in your midst.\nAnd so you grew, tottering forward on stubby, short legs. You smiled and laughed, and so too did I. A proud father to match a proud child, and proud was I of You, whom loved so dearly.\n\nAnd then one day, you discovered stone.\nYou found the hardness of the earth, and the sharpness of the flint.\nYou struck cable and cord from the trees, from the plants I sang to place.\nYou tore and twisted and tramped the life away from wherever you roamed.\nBut I let you be. For I had watched this happen before, like so many others. You struggled and learned, and then you died.\nSuch is the way of things. Such is the word of I.\nBut then you violated my greatest gift to you, a world of dual natures. Night and Day were shapers, makers, to craft you from clay into beautiful forms. My rhythyms were exact, circadian and otherwise. But you found something I saved only for myself.\nYou found a light, a heat, a burning, consuming thing that ravaged the land unless I saw fit to quench the raging hunger with torrents of water.\nYou used this perversion to shape my works. You broke down land with axe and hammer, burned plant with fire, erected monuments of leaders and walls of stone. You loved so much the idea of building, that you destroyed what I wrought.\nAnd still I watched. \nNone had dared so much as to take my own art from me. I was curious, in hindsight, to see how well you might work.\nPerhaps I had competitors, a friendly rival of sorts.\nBut your creation was a mockery of mine.\nI made things whole, with song and hope and love,\nwhile you killed and contorted the world to fit your desires.\nFor thousands of years I watched.\nI watched wars, famine, plagues.\nAnd you had the audacity to blame me. I, who had crafted you from the very essence of myself. I, who had pulled thought and love from my heart. I, who had given you a world of beauty, and allowed you to turn it to ash. \nSo I sent a piece of myself to walk among you, share the true way of life. Love, compassion, crafting and creating.\n\n\n\nAnd you pierced his hands and stabbed his sides and placed a thorned crown atop his scalp.\n\nThus I turned away. Thus I left my beautiful creation, my pride, my heart and soul.\nThus I died, that day.\nFor two thousand years, I ignored you, content to muse over bigger things.\n\nToo long, I waited.\nFor I returned, and witnessed devastation.\nMountains in rubble, iron and steel blotting out the sky, while thick factories belched smoke and smog into my beautiful, clean air.\nThe plants were fading.\nMy frozen caps melting into the brine of a sea, dotted with your tankers and traders. Even the fashioned stone I had set to even tides and give balance had been tainted by trash. Your world was in ruin.\nI had failed.\nI have failed.\n\nBut I am the Alpha. I am the beginning of all.\nAnd so begins the ending of my greatest, and most terrible creation.\nAn idea so pure, so true, that I had literally given my heart as the stones beneath their feet.\nThe world you shaped with rock and steel was the very thing used to shape your ancestors.\nAnd thus, Alpha becomes Omega.\nBeginning becomes End.\nLight will fade, and Time will cease.\nI do this not in anger, my children, my loving, beautiful creations.\nI do this to protect you from the monsters you've become.", "Now the serpent has corrupted my creations,\n\nand doomed them to eternal war between their nations,\n\nNow that I have punished them with locust swarms,\n\nand bloody water, boils, and ceaseless storms,\n\nNow that I have begun again on Noah's ark,\n\nallowed the quest of man to re-embark,\n\nI realise that this must be the end.\n\n\n\n\n\nNow that I have sent my only son,\n\nso that through him my own work may be done,\n\nNow that I have seen him put to death,\n\nand seen him take his final breath,\n\nNow that I have seen him rise again,\n\nand prove that my great quest is all in vain,\n\nThere is no longer room for man in my Kingdom.\n\n\n\n\n\nNow that mankind's faith begins to wither,\n\nand lost the trust of me, the great forgiver,\n\nNow that man has proven he is lost,\n\nand lines that shan't be crossed are crossed,\n\nI allow you now your own truth,\n\nthat you may say with zest,\n\nGod is tired. God isn't real.\n\nDeus Mortis Est.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	5
	[WP] "Why do they call you Hugo 'The Undying'"	[ "Yeh know me name, boy. Yeh heared me tales. Yeh've seen the paintings on the wall's of castles. But have yeh even stopped yerself and asked the real question? The question every man has in his heart, and refuses to ask even in his darkest hour? The one the slowly nags at the back of the mind, the itch you aren't aware of? Who are you, boy? Are you the same boy from the stories yer friends tell? Or another? Another man entirely? \n\nBut yeh didn't ask who I was. Yeh knew, and yeh asked wisely. Why do they call me Hugo 'The Undying'? Well, there's no single answer to that, rather it's the sum of many things, much like in any life. But yeh buy the next round, keep yer mouth shut, and never speak to a soul about what yeh hear tonight... Well, I guess we can talk. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nI won't bother yeh with beginnings, boy. Yeh've no doubt heard about the Breach of Kliegs and the Battle of Shariok. Yer stories may skip some of my failures, but those two there. That's where the story starts, and ain't no sense in repeating it here. Instead, I'll tell yeah when I truly got the name. The day I died. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nYeh remember the war in Forgehearth, don't ya, boy? The king would've pulled the stars down to have taken the city a week earlier. Unfortunately for the king, and myself, the stars were too far to grasp. His men failed, and in the end they lost him the war. But that comes later. It had been about a week, and they were days late. Most of us in the ranks assumed they'd been paid and made their way to whatever home those types have. All the nobles were so proud of what they'd thought they did. Couldn't walk five minutes through camp without some ass with a parent-paid commission saying 'This will be a victory for the bards to sing of!'. And it was. If Forgehearth had bards. The kings coin stayed in his purse and his hired hands were severed, if a little late. They did their job, as we found out in the day's to follow, but they let one through. And one was all it took.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nA demon of a thing it was, and luck be praised if I never see it again. The Forgehearth army rolled from the gates, and we stood waiting. We knew their numbers, and worried little. A soldier of Forgehearth was little more than a blacksmith. But it wasn't the swords they tempered that day. They brought the world to heel. Set it to the anvil and struck a vicious blow that rang through the ages. Yeh may think him a legend, some story penned by a bored minstrel. But I tell yeh now boy, that thing was real. The years have left few alive to tell of it, but I was there, and I saw the demon with me own eyes. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nWe didn't know at the time, to busy celebrating our victory of the day before, but tour end was soon coming. A suit of armor with no man inside. A creature of sole purpose. A demon built only for war. Our forward scouts brought the first reports. Whispers around camp were that anvils rang out, day and night. One said he seen the man working the forge in full armor. We figured it was just some eccentric smithy. Until he came to the field. \n\nWith a body of mithral plate and no weapon other than his metal arms tospeak of, he tore through our ranks tirelessly. Spears snapped against it's chest, swords bent against it's arms, and many men died at it's hands. All who challenged it are still in that field. All but one. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nThe fighting was close, as it always is. You hear stories of great warriors strolling through the field, but they never tell the truth of it. Any battle outside a bard's song is packed tight, steel against flesh, friend pressed close to foe. A great clashing of armies is never an orderly affair, save the few duels that arise in it's midst. The story of my naming is one of those few. \n\n&nbsp;\n, \nI saw it lumbering through the ranks, a demon of thing, entirely unaware of the arm still impaled on the spike of it's shoulder. To this day I can still see the shape of the ring on it's finger and hear the sound of it clacking against the mithral body of the beast. Men charged forward to slay it, but were torn down with brutal disregard. Having just come of the high of glory for Kliegs, and too full of myself to know better, I roared a challenge. It walked toward me, unconcerned with the tumult around it and stood waiting. Staring. It had no eyes, but still it stared straight through me to my core. I would like to say I held my own, but this is noe minstrel's tale. It wrenched my spear from my hand and drove it through my chest. The last thing I remember was it's back, as it killed three more men before I lost consciousness. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nBut I lived. And any who could refute the tale of my valiant battle against the living beast of armor lay dead. The bards sing and the dead keep their silence. I was told that I would bear the scar for the rest of days, and they were not wrong. I should have died, and would have if I had kept proper care for my weapons. The shaft broke before being pulled from my body and stemmed the flow of blood long enough for me to live. But that's not how the story tells it. How I healed my own wounds with god-given magics, or how my magic spear became a part of me. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nBut that's the truth of it. Fifty years ago, I didn't die when I should've. That's what a name is worth, and it's brought me no good since. Now yeh got what yeh want. Leave me to my drink. ", "EDIT: Gold?! Thank you so much! I can't really think of stuff to say other than enjoy the read! :D\n\n---\n\nThey call us necromancers. \n\nIt's true, it's what we are, but that doesn't make it less of an insult. We are one of the rare breeds of mages, ones who don't take pride in their work. We feel it for what it truly is, a curse. All magick is a curse. They call me Hugo, little human. In fact, I call myself Hugo. There was a name there once but its been eaten away, you too will call me Hugo. \n\nLet Hugo tell you about necromancy.\n\n---\n\nLong ago, magick was still at its proverbial peak. Mages and wizards and whole schools of new, mysterious, arcane arts were being made, discovered, believed in. The air was rife with magick, almost tangible little strands of thought flew through the air. Everyone believed, everyone felt the magic envelop their lives.\n\nBut there was a question, it lay unspoken on everyone's lips. It began as most questions like this do, with a what if? Because these questions don't come out as questions, they are little inklings that scratch into the heads of people and bury themselves deep in their mind. They fester in there, shaping their every action, changing the course of a once beautiful life. The thoughts only grow in certain people, only a handful are chosen to be broken. But only a handful are needed. There, nestled in between daily routine, the thought blossoms into something different, something sinister, something beginning with a what if? It pokes and prods its way out into the light of release, it escapes from the poor fellow's mouth and brings about a revolution.\n\nWhat if we can bring back the dead?\n\nThis time it was a girl. A sallow maiden from the steppes of some wartorn country, evicted and evacuated from its darkened shores. She came to the Great Library of Magick, seeking knowledge, seeking release. But most of all, seeking vengeance. Though she did not know it at the time. The elders took her under their wing, sat her down beside the scores of other hopefuls, they taught her magick and the fear of the arckane. They taught her to think in the rigid lines of a magic circle, to think inside the chalk of a pentacle.\n\nBut this girl, she was bright, she was something different. She was no mere child thrown in from the city, she had pains and she had goals. And the question had found itself dancing on her red lips.\n\nImpossible! It could not be done, cried the great priests of holy magicks. They had tried, begged to their so-called deity for to return to them their loved ones. How could one so young even dare to defile such a sacred request, when they themselves had been denied release? But that was the problem, they still believed in the world inside the magic circle. That all that could be discovered lay in those safe walls of study.\n\nThere was one boy, a pale stalk of a child who'd found comfort in the arms of the great deity. He wrapped his robes around his arms whenever he saw the girl come by, tightening it around his heart so it would not escape. His father, the head of the priesthood felt the pangs of forbidden love emanate from his son, and scolded and berated him. No, impossible. It will not be done.\n\nThe boy would relent, his eyes glazed over. He believed in her in his stupor, his glassy gaze, she could find something the deity could not. She could find life in her deep, hazel eyes, her smooth curves of blackened hair. Removed from the priesthood, he found himself wandering the courtyards alone. No one to clean his robes, no one to feed him again. His father, from the top of a tower nestled comfortably in the Library, often saw him weeping by a grave.\n\nOne day, by the whimsy of fate, the girl happened upon the sobbing boy. She asked him what he cried for. The boy lifted his reddened face, anxiety pumping through his veins. He talked of his mother and how she had died and how he missed her. She talked of her family and how they were killed and how she wanted revenge. They sat there and talked about things like these for hours. Little, childish dreams and emotions between sobs and sputters. The wanton ambitions of a child still not aware of the rules that bind the magickal world. It did not once occur to the children that maybe there was a reason to the chalk circle being unbroken, even in an age of discovery.\n\nWhat if we can bring back the dead?\n\nShe asked him in the midst of their wailing. Her smile shook away the tears. And so they thought, they sat there with warm backs against each other and thought. They thought long into the night. The boy talked about altars and blessings between snores, the girl stared fixedly at the moon. Youth had blinded her from bending the rules of discovery.\n\nWhat if we can bring back the dead?\n\nThey sat at the alter in the sacred hall of the priesthood, surrounded by musty old tomes that were larger than they were. Life magick. The thought spun in her head, sending sinewy magickal trails whirling through the air. The boy marveled at her prowess, her given gift to command the arckane. He leafed through a book, using it as a wall to hide his gaze when she looked back at him.\n\nThe father of the priesthood looked out of his study window once more, his ousted son had spent the nights on the cold stone bench by his mother's grave. But there was nothing there but a pile of earth pulled from the ground.\n\nWhat if we can bring back the dead?\n\nThe girl pulled a pin out of her hair, she flicked out a perfect little thumb and pricked out a drop of blood. The boy watched as she smeared the drop onto his mother's skull. A drip of life to bring to life, the ancient poem had said. He wavered as he saw his mother's body desecrated on the stone table. He could feel the whispers of the magic curls in the air twist and lash out violently. He called out to the girl, but she was already chanting.\n\nWhat if we can bring back the dead?\n\nThe body shuffled, cackled and shambled up. Not like a person would, but like a mindless soul would think a human should. Bones twisted and ripped apart drying skin, tore the robes of interrment. The skull was flecked with spots of regenerating flesh. Half of his mother's face stared into him. An eyeball dripped to the floor and cracked into smoke. The face sucked back into the hollows of the skull, pulled into whatever mouth of hell they had clawed from. More flesh, different flesh seeped into the contours of the skull and brought spatters of twisted life where it should not be.\n\nThe boy fell into a stack of tomes, scrambling as the figure of his mother lumbered and struggled towards him like a spider strung by its own string. He cried at the girl to make it stop, to make it stop. The body of his deceased mother lay alive above him, staring hungrily into his eyes. Dried saliva pooled onto his tattered robes. He sat still in shock, the years of memories melted away into sheer terror. They twisted and cackled like her skull spun on her neck. Flecks of loose hair fell onto his form and curled into wisps of smoke. The contorting figure cackled and burst into smoke, its remains mere wispy ash. Only the skull still flecked with warm flesh remained, it fell into the boy's hands and stared at him. He felt the dead eyes move about his face, judging him, accusing him.\n\n\"What if we can bring back the dead?\" he heard the girl say, in a voice that wasn't much like hers. She rose above him, he could see the drops of tears fall from her form. The ragged cloak she'd always worn billowed and tumbled with black. She was not herself anymore, cursed with the hatred of a damned soul unearthed from forbidden magick. We were not meant to escape the grasp of death, lest it pull itself into our life. Before him was not the one who wanted to bring life, not anymore.\n\nAlas, they were too late to stop the rise. She had lost her one love and he had lost his, two little bookish, young fools trapped by the curse of belief. Trapped by the question of what if? She escaped, unearthing the land wherever her eternal tears fell. The dead rose from their prisons in her wake, a sea of life brought back followed her footfalls. Magick could not stop the tragedy. A girl who wanted to bring life cursed with undeath. She roams still, raising the dead. Some worship her fleeting form, the ones who have loved and lost just like the boy and the girl. The ones who wanted to live forever, who wanted others to live forever, corrupted by the tendrils of oozing magick. And the one who wanted her back, who chased her to the end of days. Slowly the world came to accept, as the din of bone and steel had worn away ideals, that there were necromancers. They were a curse upon the world and a curse upon themselves. But truly they were the magick reminding her wherever she went, that this was her doing. That she should not question, she should not believe in other things. There is no what if?\n\nShe was the Queen of the Damned.\n\nAnd I her Hugo." ]	2
	[WP] Due to a prophetic mix-up, the hero ends up with a weapon of darkness, and the villain gets one of light.	[ "The stone door came down with a crash. Amidst the dust and rubble a man stood in a wide stance, breathing heavily and with a huge grinning smile on his face. He points a bloodied sword at the priests inside the temple’s secret chamber.\n\n“Death comes for you! Run now and leave me to my prize, for I shall cut and maim each one of you who stands in my path.” He let out a vicious, primal laugh. It was a laugh devoid of all the intricacies of culture and civilization. It was honest and wicked.\n\nThe four priests in the room followed his orders and attempted to leave the room, running towards the man, towards the exit. But as they approached the man simply laughed and cut them down without mercy. “Fat pigs.”\n\nHe stepped forward towards the altar. “Finally, Shadowbringer is mine. The legendary instrument of doom and destruction is within my grasp! I have overcome everything you light bearing zealots could throw at me: your puny acolytes, your delusional priests, your fanatic paladins! Your churches and your temples and your crypts! Every trap and cryptic puzzle your feeble light-adoring mind could conjure, I have conquered! And now… Now! Despair is mine to bring upon the world.”\n\nSuddenly the armored statue next to the altar began to glow, and move, until a being made of pure light stood between the man and Shadowbringer. “First, you must best me.” It unsheathed its sword, the blade reflecting the light of its own body. “I am the guardian of this chamber’s artifact. I have stood watch for centuries and faced many like you. I stand, while they fell. Come, villain. I will make you face your sins.”\n\nThe man looked puzzled for a second, but a look of cocky confidence soon came back to his face. “I do not fear you, beast of light. You stand before prophecy. I am the man of which your holy books speak. I am the one who will change the fate of this land. I am the one about whom your gods have warned you about. And I am the one who will end your streak.”\n\nThe two traded blows for what seemed like an eternity, neither showing signs of fatigue. The man caught the light-being in what should have been mortal wounds many times, but it was apparently immune. “Enough!” Cried the man.\n\n“Do you concede?”\n\n“Not quite.” The man lured the light-being towards a near-collapsing pillar and in a swift single movement dodge a slow, overhead strike and pushed the pillar towards the guardian. It crumbled in a dozen large pieces and pinned the being to the ground underneath all the weight.\n\n“I am defeated. You are indeed the man of prophecy.”\n\nWith an evil grin the man stepped towards the altar and grabbed the hilt of the sword stuck in the stone floor. “HAH!” He pulled it out in one swift motion and held it upwards in triumph. To his surprise, he held in his hand a shining golden sword of light.\n\n“What madness is this!? Light? Guardian! Explain this atrocity!”\n\n“What? What is it?”\n\n“What is it..? Oi! Are you playing coy with me?” He waved the shining sword around as he rambled. “Does this here sword look like a Shadowbringer to you? Does it now?” He waved the sword in front of the guardian’s light-face. “Look at it. Look at it!”\n\n“I don’t understand your confusion. Light creates shadow. The sword is made of light. I don’t understand how this could be ambiguous in any way.” The guardian didn’t move.\n\n“Ack! I can’t take this.” He was moving back and forth now. “How am I supposed to conquer the world with a sword of light!?”\n\n“Conquer the world?”\n\n“It’s not even scary! It’s made of fucking light, it is!”\n\n“I thought you were the hero prophesized in legend.”\n\n“WHAT? Why would you think that!?”\n\n“Well you come in here into my house with all that talk about how you were going to change the world, and how our books told us about you, and I just thought—“\n\n“I KILLED YOUR PRIESTS.”\n\n“Well I did not like you from the start, if you really must know. But who am I to question the god’s choices? I’m just a lowly light-being. And I’m nearing retirement as well.”\n\n“This is bollocks, that’s what it is! I DEMAND COMPENSATION!” The man threw the sword into the ground and all manners of shadows flickered on the walls as the blade tumbled around.\n\n------------------------\n\nMeanwhile, in a distant land…\n\n“It is with a great honor that I welcome you, in your eighteenth birthday, to this holy chamber. The prophecies of our people speak of a boy, who upon entering adulthood, shall be able to pluck this holy blade from the stone upon which it rests and bring peace and glory to the land.” The boy walked towards the sword stuck on the ground, surrounded by everyone in the village. “Are you the hero of legend? Are you the one who will take Light’s Sheath unto your hands?”\n\nAnd the boy confidently grabbed the sword’s hilt.\n", "The valiant hero Astor was about to embark on the greatest and most difficult adventure of his life. Returning a product to Wal Mart. \nThe line was long, and Astor knew the wait would seem longer. He held Glulax's Blade in his hand waiting for the line to move.\nThe sassy wench at the customer service counter was currently helping another patron to return his product. However, at the other customer service counter, a different wench sat twittling on her phone. Astor knew this was not proper customer service and he knew he would have to seek justice once he had returned this fault blade of darkness. \nSuddenly, Glulax entered the Wal Mart holding Astor's Blade. He approached the customer service counter, but instead of waiting like an honorable and valiant hero, he cut the line! Immediately the patrons of the Wal Mart began to question him. But Glulax had no time for such games, he incinerated the first person in line and took their spot. \n\"Hi, um... I think this is the wrong blade. I ordered it off the site, but this isn't the right one.\"\n\"Honey, since when has Wal Mart been selling medieval weaponry? I tell ya, this world's becoming one crazy place.\"\nAstor noticed Glulax and immediately jumped into action.\n\"Glulax I will not tolerate your oppression of these people any longer! Prepare to face justice!\"\nAstor drew his spare sword and charged at Glulax. Glulax parried the blow and grabbed his sword while Astor grabbed his. They took each other's weapons and prepared to do battle.\nGlulax cast a spell of force which hurtled Astor through the wall and into the eyeglass care center.\n\"Wow I think these eyeglasses are really the ones, they help me see everything clearer, and holy sh-\"\nThe patron was not able to finish as Astor was hurled at him. Astor's body crushed the patron up against the wall. Standing up, Astor charged Glulax and with one swing knocked him into the cashiers, taking out several cash registers. Money flew everywhere and patrons crawled on the floor picking it up.\nAstor charged Glulax once again but Glulax knew better this time. He protected himself with a force field which Astor bounced off of and was thrown into the produce section, straight into a box full of watermelons.\nAstor emerged with a watermelon over his head. An employee came up to him and said, \"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you and your friend to leave the premises. Also, you need to pay for those watermelons.\"\n\"Here take this,\" Astor handed him ten pieces of silver coin.\n\"Yeah, um... this isn't valid currency.\"\n\"Then take it to a bank or something and cash it in, I don't know. Right now, there is a battle to be won.\"\nAstor infused a watermelon with the power of light and chucked it at Glulax. Glulax was blasted back by the power and hurtled through several different store shelves eventually landing in the office supply section. \nAstor jumped into the air and fell to the ground towards Glulax. Glulax held up his sword and blasted a dark beam out of it sending Astor flying into the technology section. Astor landed next to a flat screen TV. Glulax approached him and prepared to fire another beam of darkness.\nQuick as a flash, Astor used the flat screen TV to reflect the beam back at Glulax. Glulax was struck by the beam and tumbled into a bike rack. Bikes fell from the rack, crushing Glulax under their weight. But Glulax would not be so easily defeated. He summoned a Wight from the Nether Realm. But to no avail. The Wight was shocked by the incredibly low prices that he ran off in search of great deals. Glulax cursed under his breath.\nAstor jumped onto a light fixture on the ceiling.\n\"It's time to give up Glulax! Your reign of terror ends here.\"\nGlulax, weakened by the bikes that had toppled on him, fell to one knee. Astor swiftly jumped to the ground and with one swoop, severed Glulax's wretched head from his body. The battle was won. The court case however, would not be won as easily.\n\n\"Valiant Hero Astor, how do you plead to the destruction of an entire Wal Mart and the manslaughter of twelve innocent people?\"\n\"I plead guilty, but it was necessary for the destruction of the evil Glulax!\"" ]	2
	[WP] People's looks depend on how good of a person they are; Good people are more physically attractive than bad people.	[ "Across the way in the vast garden she spies a young man pilfering apples from the towering fertile trees. Small in stature and unfair of face with angry red blemishes he falls to his knees as she approaches.\n\nHe pleads she spare him his life for he is but a poor farmer enticed by the promise of the sweetest apples in the whole county. He marvels at his luck of finding the the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes upon. Flattered she permitted him to remain in her company for the evening meal. \n\nThroughout the meal he grew uglier. He gorged himself on fine foods and thought to himself that he must bed this wench who is the most remarkable beauty in all of the town. As he enticed her with his wit and his charm to allow him to be her nightly company his teeth swayed progressively out of line. \n\nShe fell in love and grew more beautiful each day. After her morning bath she spent every waking hour with her beau. His skin bubbled and erupted with angry red welts as he spent each waking day in her company conspiring on how he could get the wealthy woman to marry him and leave him to never work a day in his life. Only weeks passed before they were promptly wedded. \n\n\nThe man grew uglier each day as he harassed the servants, kicked the dog and repeatedly plowed his wife in hopes of getting her with child so she would not insist on spending her every waking hour with him following her morning bath. Impossibly she grew more and more beautiful as she showered her new husband with love and the promise of a child. \n\nOne morning a rage overtook him. This beautiful woman thinks she owns me he raged as he waited downstairs for hours as she wasted away her morning in the bath. He felt she thought of him as nothing, the stupid whore. He resolved to give her a piece of his mind and as his malicious thoughts grew tufts of hair fell from his head. He marched up the stairs and stormed into the bath. \n\nAnd there was Elizabeth bathing in a tub filled with dark congealed blood. He looked upon her face and there were wrinkles were there were none before, into her eyes and there was malice where he had seen none before and he knew her heart was not pure. Elizabeth sneered at him as her guard came up behind him and put a blade to his throat. \n\n\"It's not simply the deed that brings the beauty you know. It's on the inside. And I bring the good out in people.\" ", "Aesthetically speaking, she was horrendous. Her skin sagged, her breasts looked like warm butter sliding from a hot cake. She was bowlegged, and her toes resembled poorly constructed tombstones, pointing in every direction. Her mouth smelled of ancient death.\n\nShe had forgotten her RotinPeace dentures at the house. Shit. Shit shit shit. How could she be so stupid? On the day of the interview for her promotion no less! Today she would be stylistically pleasant (sort of), she was essentially underdressed for such a formal occasion. Her black gums, although perfectly void of any hint of pink, looked far better when accessorized via grey and yellow falsies. \n\nSpeeding down the highway, surrounding her, what would appear to most the entire population of extras from every shitty zombie film ever made. In reality, a father on his way to dropping his kids off at school, newlyweds arguing over which karat of coal was financially possible, a super old Asian woman.\n\nThey were all so wonderfully abhorrent.\n\nShe personally admired the unibrow of the father. If only she could ever be so lucky as to land a stud like that. His lack of muscular tone and his near translucent pale skin made her liver spotted shoulders cringe,\n\nBut she was one of those women who feigned insecurity for attention. She was majestic, fantastic. Men fawned over her. \n\nShe was fucking grotesque, and she fucking knew it.\n\nHer walk, resembling that of an extraordinarily exhausted invalid, was runway worthy. \n\nHer hair, in the Dr. Phil style (hot this season) was spot on.\n\nShe was everything every man dreamed of.\n\nBut still, she was a strange case, for regardless of her false insecurity and the line of men actively pursuing her, the intrinsic inability to be attracted to a good looking male (i.e. unibrowed father) haunted her.\n\nShe could physically admire from afar, but, she could only really love someone truly good, and thus truly ugly.", "July 4\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Fieser is a good man. He's good looking, too. In his early forties, he looks like what you'd expect when you think of a world-class chemist—unassuming with an oval face and gentle chin, save for a strong nose that belies a German forbearance. He is balding, but don't let that fool you; he lettered in football and track on top of philosophy at college, and maintains a robust exercise regimen that includes swimming the whole length of the university pool underwater. He would have won a Nobel, too, for elucidating Vitamin K or his seminal contributions to organic synthesis if it weren't for the war. But since when has that ever stopped a scientist, no less Louis Fieser?\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The collaboration of brilliant and beautiful minds like his in academia, industry, and government have succeeded in building the most effective scientific coalition of our times. Artificial rubber, invented on this very campus, can now be synthesized at scale independent of plantations captured by enemies from afar. It is a lowly and humble material, surely, but the applications are endless—from tires to medical supplies to hoses to gaskets, among other things.\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;This day, I stand with Fieser to witness the first of many tests that will surely change the tide of the war. Today's product months in the making is a modest powder, fine and lacking the tack or stretch associated with rubber that becomes a tenacious gel once mixed with gasoline.\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;We're on the football field outside the Harvard Business School, and it is now on fire. Uncontrollably so. We expect our boys over in Europe fighting the good fight to be fielding our incendiary vehicle by next year.\n\nWhat a birthday gift.", "I saw a man yesterday with no face. \nHe was bent and twisted, his whole life spent. \nBut he spoke to me, leaving not one trace \nOf hate that other folk just might have lent. \nHe said \"boy, listen up, don't live like me...\" \n\"You gotta hate, love, feel, listen, and live.\" \nAnd he turned to leave, but I said \"sir, please... \nI'm a bit confused, my pardon forgive, \nBut what do you mean, this thing you decree?\" \nHe laughed, a grotesque sound that rose and fell, \nAnd he said \"one day you will know the fee, \nBut until then, my son, I bid you well.\" \nAnd so he left, and my mind torn about. \nA life of apathy?--yes, of that no doubt. \n", "The Doctor leaned back in her chair, pushing the chart towards him. \"I can't take your case, but I know someone who can. He specializes in Privilege - which isn't my area.\"\n\n\"I've got Privilege?\"\n\nShe shrugged. \"It's not so bad, perfectly treatable so long as you enter the regimen with an open mind. Hard cases can take upwards of five months. But hey,\" she smiled at him, \"At least you don't have Envy.\"\n\nAt least he didn't have... well, shit. It was probably the promotion that did him in. New titles, new car, new flat. All the respect that had suddenly flooded his way had gone to his head. He felt he'd deserved things. Stopped listening as much, until his wife left him. Because of his 'appearance', but he knew what she really meant. Ugly on the outside, ugly on the inside. \n\n\"Is it covered by my insurance?\"\n\n\"All Tier One Attractiveness Disorders are covered with a small deductible.\"\n\nHe studied the Doctor. She was pretty in a mousy way. Attractive in the way a lot of people were. Clear skin and symmetrical structure, no deformities, a healthy weight... just like he'd been a year ago. Nothing striking - very few people were. How could they be when attractiveness was worshiped as the ideal? It went to their heads.\n\nJust like how his position had gone to his.\n\nHe couldn't stand the sight of himself in a mirror anymore. Uneven eyes and skin that looked like it'd seen too much sun. Extra weight around his thighs, lending him an unbalanced appearance that left people with pitying expressions.\n\n\"When do I start?\"", "Another fucking day grinding grist for the mill. \n\nWithout thought I spout out the practiced line, \"Hello and welcome to Frank's Taco Joint, can I take your order?\"\n\nThe response is a smooth baritone, \"Yes, a dozen of your taqueria tacos, pork.... my sweet,\" his voice causes my headset to rumble softly against my head and I feel a strand of hair fall out of its neatly arranged position... fucking bobby pins. \n\n\"Certainly sir, anything to drink for you today?\" I reply, my voice quivers, outside of my own command. \n\n\"No, and thank you,\" comes the easy reply, \"though my eyes can't wait to get a drink of you...\" \n\n\"Thank you sir, please pull forward to the window, your order is being prepared.\" I reply, flushed.\n\nI stage the bag by tossing in a few napkins, then I add in a handful of containers of sauce, making sure to add a few extra. Our sauce is the only real reason people frequent the out-of-the-way joint and I like to reward customers who, for whatever reason, break the monotony of this job. \n\nThe bright burn of hi-beams signals another customer rounding the corner, and I glance backwards briefly at Martha, who has such a sweet soul and reminds me of an angel whose wings have been clipped, and darling Michelle, the girl who carries a cloud over herself but is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen... my two little shining stars [...] they've already finished their task. \n\nOut of the corner of my eye I register a car stopping next to my window and I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the man who carries this voice... \n\nI neatly tuck all twelve tacos into the bag, tying it neatly with a practiced twist of my fingers and open the window. \n\n\"That will be...\" I begin, announcing the price before raising my eyes... and then freeze. \n\nThis barbarous man has boils etched across his entire body, and pus freely flows from many of his cysts... I choke back my response and think to myself \"not again...\" before turning to retch into the nearby sink... \"Employees must wash their hands after...\" my mind helplessly implores into my consciousness... \n\nAfter what feels like an hour, but what could have only taken a few seconds I pause and steel myself, I wash my hands and turn one again to the monster outside my window. \n\n\"Sir,\" I say coldly, \"That will be 6.88.\" \n\nHe smiles and grins, licking his lips as he unfolds his wallet, taking extra care to show the dozens of $100 bills he has tucked away inside. \n\nA 20 is threaded forward, tucked so deep into his hand that it takes all of my dexterity to not accidentally touch the fearsome hand. \n\nI make change and quickly return it, and his bag to an outstretched arm... \n\nAs I do so his other hand snakes its way across the divide and alights upon my wrist. Words that barely seem spoken enter my mind as he asks, \"What time do you get off?\"\n\nI wrench my hand back and, doing so, lose his entire order. It drops to the ground and he barks out a curse at me and my ineptitude... \n\nCrying out as the hot, wet stench of pus dripping down my arm I indicate to my coworkers that I have to leave...\n\nThis is the fourth time this week... \n\nI got fired the next day... \n\nI'm not cut out for this kind of work.\n\nnote to OP -- it's so hard NOT TO end this WP with a look in the mirror (it's such an easy ending).", "He was the most beautiful man the world had ever seen. There are claims he is a prophet or even Jesus come again but nobody could deny that he is the most seemingly perfect being walking the Earth.\n\nAnd Christian too! I mean I had always known that the Bible was true but having him in our corner really helped sell it. After all, on top of being absolutely gorgeous he was also the kindest and most gentle person you could possibly be around. Nobody could deny there was not a mean or selfish bone in his body and his looks proved it. \n\nHe never really talked about his past but the general consensus is that he came from a very poor background. It was only through hard work and determination that he made it to Harvard. He quickly gained a following and became the youngest Senator to have ever been elected in the State of Texas. His charisma, sincerity and strong Christian values brought the old conservatives and the young progressives together. \n\nIt was his time as a senator that really brought him national attention. He was a beacon to the minority and oppressed while a voice of reason in a landscape full of hard headed and unwavering politicians. Both social and economic progress spread across the state and it wasn't long before he made his bid at the presidency at the age of 37.\n\nWhile the opposition was quick to point out his youth and inexperience there was no denying the success he had had. He also just had such a down to Earth style of interacting with people that made it so easy to trust him. His speeches often quoted Jesus, Gandhi and Confucius and as such, he was often favorably compared to them. He ended up winning the election by a landslide and the day of his inauguration there wasn't a dry eye watching. \n\nAnd you know what? His first two terms were amazing! Under his leadership America quickly saw a resurgence of prosperity and admiration by most of the other countries in the world. Total household income doubled by the end of his second term and unemployment was almost non existent. His sincerity and commitment to improving foreign relations was greatly welcomed by all as he helped ease global tension. All nuclear warheads were agreed to be disarmed by all countries and there was a sense of relief world wide as the threat of nuclear annihilation was eliminated. \n\nEven when the 22nd amendment was repealed and he was elected to a third term I was wasn't really bothered. Under his presidency we had experienced unprecedented success as a nation. Christianity was thriving as we experienced another Age of Enlightenment and while I felt a 2 term limit was a smart idea, if it meant we would lose our glorious leader I didn't want it. \n\nIt wasn't until his 10th year as president that I started to have my doubts. Many African countries had started to crumble as war lords spread out and increased in power. News reports showed shots of hideous men smiling and cheering as they shot resistance fighters. The bastards were claiming they were doing \"God's work\".\n\nAt a world summit he called on the UN to finally put a stop to it all. \"If we are to deem ourselves as good people, we must help those to weak to fight for themselves,\" he said. But the world leaders fought and bickered among themselves. \"The cost was too much\", \"the death toll would be to great\", \"we just don't have the resources.\" And yet while there words seemed to make sense, their appearance betrayed the. Over the course of the week many started going grey, seemingly aging, and a few even lost some teeth. Only our leader remained unaffected. \n\nThat was the beginning of the First Holy Intervention. Our Commander in Chief ordered military intervention in a foreign land for the first time since he was sworn in. Bringing the full might of the American forces, most of the war lords were quickly eliminated. Those that survived had no resources to ever be a problem again. Africans chanted our leaders name as all celebrated from every city to every village. \n\nAnd it could have all ended there and everyone would have been happy. But as I watched his \"Victory Speech\" my stomach began to churn. \"Africa has been a victim of our indecisiveness and unwillingness to help for far too long! The world watched as our brothers and sisters here suffered by Evil's hand! Instead of being a light in the darkness, the \"leaders\" of every country capable of helping, turned and hid. Well I won't let that happen again. Evil will not win again! That is why we will take our African brothers under our protection! I declare that from this day on, Africa will be a United States territory!\"\n\nAs the citizens and leaders of the world sat shocked by the declaration, US Forces quickly moved in and spread out all over Africa. Global opinion seemed split as some praised the Presidents refusal to watch innocents suffer while others saw it as a power move. Yet over time it was deemed a worthy cause. The world summit proved the sincerity of his claim as he stood, beautiful as always, in front of the decaying leaders around him. \n\n", "Yeah, it was sprouting. Rising pink like freshly bruised skin. He pushed his tongue on the inside of his lip, really spreading the skin of his chin out. No denying it. He could feel the swelling and knew it was coming.\n\"Of fuck, you asshole!\" Charles called out of the bathroom. \"I gotta fuckin zit popping up.\"\nFrom the kitchen James replied, \"It's probably your eyes playing tricks on you. Maybe you pinched your skin.\"\n\"No, Dick,\" Charles yelled back, while scratching at his skin with a fingernail. \"IT'S A ZIT.\"\n\"Aren't you red/green colorblind?\"\nCharles put his head down. Stared into the sink. He knew this was coming. For every action, there is an equal but opposite.... He looked at some dried splotches of toothpaste marring the white of the porcelain.\n\"I am so fucked,\" he said now, quieter. Defeated.\nJames appeared in the doorway, bright like a seraphim. Immaculate. \"Oh now look at you,\" he said softly. \"Keeping up like that certainly isn't going to help anything.\"\n\"I don't get it,\" Charles said. \"I listened to YOU. You told me to kiss Heather. To Carpe la fucking Femme!\"\n\"Maybe it wasn't the right move,\" James shook his head sadly.\n\"Are you kidding me? You sleep with anything that walks and you look like a freshly blooming cherry blossom. I kiss someone I really like and my pores turn on me like oncoming traffic in Russian dashboard camera clips.\"\n\"You don't think it's fair?\" James asked. His voice was soft conveying the tone he felt the question was rhetorical. His voice was always soft. He raised a chiseled bronze arm to brush some of the blond tresses that had slipped over his brow.\n\"How on EARTH is it fair?\" Charles asked. \"You figured out a way to hide it, right? You have crazy anal rashing? Your big toe's on the outside of your feet? A third nipple? A tiny nub penis?\"\n\"Charles, my penis is great,\" James chuckled. \"The problem is you, buddy. You fell in love with Skyler. You singled her out, out of the entire human race. You raised her on the pedestal. And that's fine,\" James said. \"I'm not condemning monogamous love. But you know that Heather was a betrayal--\"\n\"But why do you get off sleeping with anyone?\"\n\"I never betray feelings. I never hurt anyone. I love all people equally. There's no promises or suggestions otherwise. We do with each other, because we enjoy sharing the experience. Enjoy each other's company.\"\n\"Gimme a freakin break,\" Charles said.\n\"I'm sorry, I thought you might have been to that place.\"\n\"I'm going to look like I slapped a three-year-old.\"\n\"I don't think anyone will notice,\" James said. They both started laughing. \n", "It started innocently enough, just a few messageboard comments here and there. To intellectuals and academics, just another meaningless point-of-view thrown on the asinine heap, so to speak. Then it started to spread like wildfire. The unhappy, ugly and the evil called it 'privilege'. People became infected with privilege simply by virtue of their beauty - just as beauty itself had manifested out goodness. \n\nThis new school of thought represented a critical contradiction in the laws of nature, whereby the beauty of the good was understood to oppress the mental state of the bad. The cycles of sadness, misery and self-hatred that typified the 'bad' were revealed to be at least partly caused by the privilege of the beautiful. This revelation swept across the globe, and slowly, people started to transform. Blonde became brown, scars became smooth skin. Both the ugly and the beautiful became irreconcilably average in appearance, as the black and whites of their morality turned into a single shade of grey encompassing all of humanity.\n\nFor how could beauty be considered good when it caused the suffering of so many? And without anything to covet or envy, what evil could exist?\n\nAntecedents of the Privlatum; 6th Revised Edition – Post Balance. Cycle 2145.\n\n\n" ]	9
	[WP] in a world where men and women must pass a test proving their stereotypical gender role at the age of 18, one man desperatly tries to fake his way through the "Talk about sports with the guys" portion of the exam	[ "\"What teams do you support?\"\n\n\n\nRob panicked. He hoped the dim lighting and long shadows of the room would hide this.\n\n\n\n\"Uh....my home town's\"\n\n\n\n\"What is their mascot?\"\n\n\n\n\n\"Bears? Yah, bears.\"\n\n\n\n\"One sport for the entire town?\"\n\n\n\n\"Uh...no, they just all have bears for their mascot.\"\n\n\n\n\n\"Interesting.\"\n\n\n\n\n\"You should see us play, this one time our pitcher sacked the goalie before making an across-the-court shot!\"\n\n\n\n\nThe questioner did not respond.\n\n\n\n^\"Iloveknitting...\"", "Eugene gently laid his pencil on top of his paper. \"I'm finished.\" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The four walls that had closed in on him at his desk vibrated as the speaker above came to life. \"You will now proceed to the oral portion of your exam. Please remain seated.\" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The walls hummed and slowly began to move backward. Eugene's desk moved away and the chair he sat upon began to move forward. Just as he was about to hit the wall, the wall swung to the side and revolved until it swung behind him. There he sat, seated in a circle with four other men. \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"You see the game last night?\" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Eugene nodded. \"Yeah, crazy, right?\" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"Yep.\" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Eugene looked carefully at the men who sat next to him. They stared at him, teeth bared in wide smiles. He smiled back. \"You guys ready for the Super Bowl?\" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;They all laughed, and some groaned. \"It's gonna be a blowout, man, the Patriots have like, twice the rushing yards that the Seahawks do, y'know?\" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"But the Seahawk's defense is fantastic... right, Eugene?\" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Eugene let his mind return to the sports show he had watched last night. \"Yeah,\" he replied finally, \"yeah, that's right. Not to mention that they really want it you know? I mean to win two back-to-back Super Bowls...\" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The men leaned back, as if relieved. \"Yeah, it'll be crazy. I mean, a team hasn't won back-to-back Super Bowls since what... the Broncos?\" \n &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;A bead of sweat rolled down Eugene's brow. Think, think! Super Bowl 27 and 28... that was the Cowboys... 29? No... 32 and 33 the Broncos went back-to-back. Yes, the broncos--no, it was the Patriots. Super Bowls 38 and 39. \"Uh, it was the Patriots, Super Bowl 38 and 39.\" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"Oh yeah, of course!\" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"Hey Eugene, what do you think of the Bruins?\" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The room fell silent. Somewhere overhead an air conditioner kicked on. The four men looked at Eugene, hands in their laps, waiting. \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"Uh...\" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"Did you see their game against the Islanders? What do you think?\" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"Well,\" stammered Eugene, \"it was to be expected, I guess, I mean it is the Bruins, right? It was a crazy game.\" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"Actually,\" said one of the men softly, \"it was pretty unexpected.\" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"Yeah, that's what I meant--I mean, it was expected that they'd screw it all up after doing so good you know?\" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The men smiled, lips tight. \"Yeah.\" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Eugene's chair slowly began to swivel. The speaker overhead came to life. \"Bruins beat the Islanders 5 to 2. You have failed this portion of the exam. Gender selection is now over. Please remain seated.\"", "Bill just returned from the weight lifting part of the exam. He didn't do extraordinary, but it was passable. Next up was the \"Hold your Beer\" Challenge. He wasn't worried about this at all, all Bill ever did was drink. \n\nHe walked in the room and instantly took a seat at the bar. He glanced at the line of beers that were pre-set for him and immediately gulped down the nearest one. A large belch escaped his throat as he reached for the next, and the next.\n\nSix beers later, the bartender/scientist was looking a little worried.\n\n\"Slow down there, buddy, you still have three more tests.\"\n\nBill threw the man a glance that clearly said 'I got this'. But he did realize he should be somewhat sober for the next tests. Taking one last beer, he waltzed out of the room and took the next challenge.\n\nBar fight. How fitting. The interior of the room was an organized mess, if that makes any sense. Tables were methodically flipped, shards of glass littered the floor. A man in a labcoat was standing in the center of the room, holding a clipboard. \n\n\"Are you ready, Bill?\" He asked, nonchalantly. \n\nBill tried to say 'yes' but it sounded more like \"Yehhehssh\". He stumbled over to the man, grabbing a half-full mug of water and attempting to smash it on a table. Finding the act impossible, he gave up and decided to do this the old fashioned way. Maybe it would give him extra points.\n\nThe labcoat man put his clipboard down and put his fists up. Bill tried to mimic his action, but got distracted scratching his chin. Suddenly, the labcoat man launched himself at Bill and immediately clocked him in the jaw. Bill stumbled backwards and groaned, sounding oddly similar to a zombie. Determined not to lose, he tackled the man, becoming extremely nauseous in the process. Using this to his advantage, he emptied the contents of his stomach on the man.\n\n\"Yuck!\" Exclaimed the man, brushing the brown gunk off his once-white suit. He picked up his labcoat at frantically scribbled something on it. \"Alright, go on to your final test.\" He said, clearly angry.\n\n\"Shuuure thing bestest buddyyy\" Mumbled Bill. He casually (not so casually) made his way to the final door at the end of the hall. He opened the room labeled \"Football\" and walked in.\n\nTwo men in football jerseys were sitting across from each other, each in his own wooden chair. The room was empty besides them. One had a jersey with some kind of bird on it, the other some kind of man-looking thing.\n\n\"Look man, I'm telling you, the Pats are gona totally kick Seattle's ass tonight! Get over yourself!\" Exclaimed the taller one, frantically waving his arms about. He looked up at Bill, and seemed to pull himself back a little, as if caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.\n\n\"Oh, you must be Bill. Please have a seat.\" He said, pulling out another chair and a clipboard. Bill sat down, and it only took him three attempts. The small victories in life.\n\n\"So we were just discussing tonight's game. Who are you rooting for?\"\n\n\"Oh you know,\" slurred Bill, \"The same as you.\" He pointed to the wall on the other side of the room.\n\nThe Patriot Jersey man shifted uncomfortably. \"Do you mean the Pats?\"\n\n\"Yeah! Love the pets! They're the best in the woooorrrllld!\" Not exactly the most comprehensive response, but the examiner seemed to take it well.\n\nThe Patriots fan puffed out his chest and looked at the other man with a look of triumph in his eye. \"See? The Patriots are going to crush Seattle. Nothing you can do about it.\"\n\n\"Pfft,\" replied the Seahawks fan, \"We'll see how it turns it, won't we Bill?\" The other man patted Bill on the back forcefully, forcing him out of his chair. He tried to get up, and failed. Again.\n\n\"Wow, look at him go! He's showing us how badly the Pats are going to lose! What a guy!\" Exclaimed #2, much to #1's chagrin. \n\n\"Whatever you say Bill. I thought we were Pat Buddies.\" He said, shrugging and writing on his clipboard. \"I won't hold it against you though, you clearly know what you're doing. You passed your Male Examination with flying colors. Congratulations!\"\n\nBill responded by barfing all over their shoes." ]	3
	[WP] You possess a special power and used it to build your career. One day you suddenly lose the power.	[ "when i was ten years old i discovered that i could manipulate technology. i took my fathers old phone and pulled it apart into multiple pieces without even touching it. Then it went back together.\n\nOnce i turned 15 i had learned how to control my power and use it to further myself. I turned an old typewriter and a television into a functioning supercomputer. I didn't know how it worked. basically if i had enough tech it would just turn into whatever i wanted it to be. \n\nat age 18 i had finally decided that i would use my power to make some real money. However, i kinda chose to do this illegally. I made an ATM turn into a vehicle and drive to me. give me all the cash. I didn't know that they had GPS in these things. The cops were at my house in a matter of minutes i took all the tech in the house and made a tank. I drove this beast through the driveway where i turned it into a jet and flew off into the west. \n\nAfter this i knew that i would be on every blacklist, watch-list, hunted. like an animal. i could never return, make contact with friends, family, anyone. This was the turn of the tide, so to speak. I no longer had to hide my powers. I began to grow them. i was able to make parts i needed out of their base components. \n\nThirty years later. i have successfully enslaved the human race. The worlds dependence on technology truly had been their downfall. i turned iPhones into traps. 99% of the worlds population i killed in a matter of minutes. destroyed all of their lives like a child with a garden hose spraying an anthill. there was no challenge. no stopping me. I corralled all of the worlds population that was left into a new island i made out of pure metals. It made food. i kept peace among my people, without freedom they cant fight. \n\nThree years into my reign and a rebel faction found their way into my facility. armed with wooden weapons so that i couldn't destroy them immediately. smart. however i knew that they posed no threat. so as to send a message i let them enter my throne room before i crushed them. the army of 20 busted down my door with gunpowder they made. impressive. they blew the doors and i saw the 20 men and women who decided to oppose me. I laughed as i raised my hand to bring the roof down upon them. nothing. i tried again. NOTHING! I looked at them. they were charging the throne. i threw my hands up and brought them down repeatedly. NOTHING. my powers were gone. i figured that much out. my own hubris was my downfall. if i had tried to stop them i would have been fine. i would have learned to use the tech i built. but it had no matter. they struck me down as i fell into the darkness i saw a face. made of pure silver. laughing at me. and i died.", "10 minutes. I could see into the future, but only by 10 minutes and only within my field of vision. God, how lame was that? People finally start getting superpowers like in the comics, but while other folks were flying around punching meteorites and basking in glory, I was seeing whether my bus was going to be late or not.\n\nI was working a dead-end job. All day I sat at a keyboard just typing away for miserable pay for a boss who was nice enough, but a total corporate stooge. I had no savings, a crappy apartment, and with no hope of ever becoming part of the Hero League, I kept my power completely to myself.\n\nOne day, while my face was planted into my keyboard, Kenny came by. Kenny was my buddy at work. We used to go out for drinks every Friday, but we'd been doing that less and less since he had a kid. \n\n\"Guess what cap'n?\" He said wrenching my head from my desk. \"Donna and the kid are outta town which means you and I are going out!\"\n\nI smiled. It had been a while and I could use a good time. After work we went to our favourite place and ordered at the bar. A poker game was on at the time. Just for kicks, I used my power. \n\nI saw who was going to win. I could see to the flop, the turn, the river... And best of all, I could see who was going to fold and what the hands were going to be. Why didn't I think of this before?\n\n\"Hey! Buddy!\" Kenny smacked my arm as I stared at the TV. \"You Alright?\"\n\n\"Yeah...\" I said. \"Say, Kenny. How'd you like to play a little poker tonight?\"\n\n\"You serious? It ain't like you to gamble.\"\n\n\"I feel lucky. C'mon!\" I said, practically dragging him out the door. We got a cab and went to a hotel casino. I took all the money I had, a cool $1000 and went to the tables.\n\nDoesn't take a clairvoyant to tell what happened next. I was on fire. First I doubled my money, then quadrupled. By the end of the night I had more money than I had ever seen before. A whirlwind of cash followed. I quit my soul-sucking job and quickly became a professional. I entered tournaments. Small-time at first but before I knew it I was hitting the big time. Vegas, ESPN, the whole shebang. I made a fortune on the cards.\n\nI was just about the break a million when I heard about a high-stakes tournament. The buy-in was a million dollars so I took out a loan for the rest and entered.\n\nWhen it came down to the final showdown, it was me and this big thick-necked Texan. We got dealt our hole cards and I took a look and tried to peer into the future. Nothing. I tried again. Still nothing. I rubbed my eyes and took a breath. Nothing. \n\n\"Shit!\" I said to myself. \"What the hell? Not now! Why why why!\" We had already paid the blinds, what was I going to do? I lose this tournament, I lose everything!\n\nI never learned how to bluff, or read bluffs. Hell, I didn't really learn how to bet properly! I never had to! If I was going to lose the hand, I just folded whenever I felt like it. Now I was sweating and jittery and this guy knew it. He smiled and raised.\n\n\"I c-call...\" I squeaked as I threw out a few chips. The flop came. King of Hearts, 4 of Clubs, 10 of Clubs. He raised again. I called. The turn was a 3 of Spades. \n\n\"All in\". Said the Texan smugly as he pushed his stack into the pot. What choice did I have? With trembling hands, I pushed my stack in to.\n\n\"Be gentle...\" I prayed. The river was next. The Queen of Spades flipped over, both of her heads stared at me. The Texan flipped his cards. King of Diamonds, King of Clubs. The crowed roared for his impeding victory. He threw his arms into the air and looked at me with a big shit-eating grin.\n\nMeekly and with my life flashing before my eyes I flipped over mine. I completely forgot what they even where, I was too busy freaking out. I shut my eyes tightly. I heard nothing from the crowed. Nothing from the Texan. I thought everyone had just got up and left. I opened one eye and saw the Texan staring dumbfounded at the table. I looked down.\n\nThe 9 of Diamonds sat peacefully next to the beaming Jack of Hearts. I swear, I saw him wink.\n\nI took my winnings and left the poker scene. Now that I have a little money and a little time, maybe I'll go back to school and get a job I like doing.", "Around my 14th birthday, I discovered I could somehow use bits of other people's minds... remember what they'd experienced, understand what they knew.\n\nHow easy, then, to become a genius! No matter the field, so long as it was mental, I could always be near the very top of it so long as I had time to meet a few people first. The sum of little bits of each of them eventually putting me at or near the very top.\n\nIt actually worked for physical things too, though I quickly learned to be careful because this power doesn't physically condition my body. Using my celebrity to meet Jackie Chan resulted in some embarrassing injuries the next day, and weeks of rehab afterwards.\n\nIn the end, I chose to focus on politics. Law, economics, trade, manipulating large populations... I didn't need speech writers, I just needed a few minutes back stage to read a crowd before I could own them with a few words.\n\nThat's how Pax Canadiana started - a globe-spanning empire of unprecedented peace and prosperity as I managed to bring everyone into line with very little violence. \n\nI managed to get us global health care, free speech, the right to trial... and then to colonize Mars successfully and mine the asteroid belt before sending off a generation ship to put humans on another world a thousand years from now.\n\nAnd yet, lately I've been feeling duller. I'm less and less able to outthink people just by looking at their minds. Squabbling has started among my regional ministers, and it looks like we've lost the Mars colony to rebellion. No matter how good you make things, there are always malcontents. Somebody who doesn't care if things are worse, so long as they're done their way and not yours.\n\nToday I came into the office and all I could think about was how to make a cup of coffee and check emails and schedules.\n\n* * *\n\n\"What happened? Has he been poisoned?\"\n\n\"No idea. I just came into his office and saw him sitting there with that vacant stare, drooling.\"", "\"Welcome to Lazarus Industries,\" chimed the synthetic voice as I stepped past my shining silver doors. A chorus of good morning's and how do you do's met my ears as I made my way to the elevator. My secretary stepped into my office a couple minutes after I sat down in my gilded leather armchair.\n\n\"Mr. Drusys, you're 11:30 appointment is here, should I send him in?\" She asked, a clipboard full of customers in her hands.\n\n\"Sure, sure. How much is he donating to the society again?\"\n\n\"$15 million, sir.\"\n\n\"Just 15?\" I frowned, \"Let me grab a coffee first then.\"\n\n\"Sumatran Kopi Luwak?\"\n\nI stared at her, she should know I wouldn't ingest anything worth less than $500 by now.\n\nSeveral minutes later an elderly Saudi walked into the office with a team of nurses carrying a feeble teenager in a cot as I sipped on my drink.\n\n\"Asalam alikum, sir. What seems to be the problem?\"\n\n\"Alikum sala, Mr. Drusys. He is my only son Mr. Drusys. He means the world to me, but the doctors all say that there is nothing to be done abou-\"\n\nI rolled up my sleeves and stepped out of my armchair, why does everybody feel the need to give me a sob story? \"I'm a busy man, Mr...\"\n\n\"Medinad, Ali Medinad\"\n\n\"Mr. Mabinid, why don't you just tell me what's wrong with your son?\"\n\n\"He has cancer, stage 4, in his brai-\"\n\nI held up a finger as I placed a hand on the boy's forehead. Slowly I could feel the life returning to his body. The slow beating of the monitor quickened to a healthy man's heartbeat. Mibinidid look of worry gave way to ecstatic joy.\n\n\"Abdul! Can you hear me Abdul?\" He said, grasping onto his son's hand. \n\nThe boy's eyes began to flutter, and I took my hands off him. \"You're all set Mr. Madina-\"\n\nSuddenly the beeping grew swifter, louder. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as his limbs began to tremble. \"Mr. Drusys what is happening?!\"\n\nI had no idea. The nurses were frantically trying to stabilise the boy as his whole being began seizing. \"I need 20 CCs of-\" the nurse fell to the ground lifeless, blood trickling from her eyes. A scream followed, only to end abruptly, another thud, all the nurses fell to the floor, dead. The heart monitor flatlined. Furious would have been an understatement of the Arab's reaction.\n\nHe gripped my shirt, \"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY SON?\"\n\n\"Let's all just calm down, Mr. Mibinid.\"\n\n\"MEDINAD! MY NAME IS-\" His grip loosened as blood began pouring from his eyes, his nose, his mouth. He was choking on his own blood as it splattered against my face. Then he fell to the ground beside the nurses, his white robes soaked with blood.\n\n\"Jesus Christ...\" What the hell happened? I had never seen such a sight. \"Richardson, send somebody up here to clean up this mess.\"\n\nNo response. I buzzed the intercom again, \"Richardson! Did you hear me?\" Silence. \"Richardson?\"\n\nI stepped out of the diamond crusted doors to my office, \"Richardson, what the he-\" There she was half strewn over her desk as a trickle of blood pooled onto the marble floor below. \"Oh my God...\" On the security feed, not a single person was standing. \n\nI ran to the elevator and stepped onto the first floor. A river of red ran down the stairwell as a handful of corpses floated in the scarlet sea up to my knees.\n\nEveryone was dead." ]	4
See title^	[WP] As one of the unlucky few, a chosen juror, you and your group deliberate for many days, almost ready to submit your verdict, until you spot something on a seemingly unimportant piece of evidence.	[ "His hand trembled.\n\nHe held the photos for what seemed like an eternity - they'd been anonymously dropped in his mailbox. The prosecution would have had a field day with these - somehow, they hadn't found the photos.\n\nHe frowned, slammed his hand into the table, and pushed the photos aside. Reentering the room, he addressed the others. \"...Alright. You guys ready?\"\n\nIt wasn't his place to present evidence, after all.\n\n---\nQuestions? Criticisms? Want to see more? Check out more of my writing at /r/Draxagon" ]	1
Feel free to find a name for this disease EDIT: sorry for missing an "a" before "scientist"	[WP] An epidemic which gradually lowers people's IQ bursts out. You are scientist who works on finding a cure. You find out you've been infected.	[ "February 3rd: patient admitted presenting with acute headaches and balance issues. Initial diagnosis inconclusive, sent patient for CT and xray of head to ensure no damage. Prescribed mild pain reliever for headaches.\n\nFebruary 5th: patient diagnosis still inconclusive. fMRI came back inconclusive, with nothing showing on xray or CT either. Balance issues seem to have alleviated, but patient seems to be having trouble making sentences. Patient did not initially present with trouble speaking. Prescribed migraine abortive, so far no change. \n\nFebruary 6th: nurse treating patient has complained of a mild headache and some balance issues. Patient seems to be getting worse, speaking in a childish manner and watching cartoons on the television all day. I have relieved nurse of duty and asked her to report in if any change. Have also instituted mandatory masks for anyone entering room. Sent 6 vials of blood to lab with instructions to test for foreign proteins and anything unusual.\n\nFebruary 8th: nurse has been admitted with same issues as patient, have instituted quarantine procedures for patient and all medical personnel that have entered room. Contacted cdc with possibility of outbreak, though of what I am unsure. Lab results report a virus that seems to be similar to ebola in structure and transmission, but lacking some quality that keeps it from liquefying insides. I wish this headache would go away. \n\nFebruary 9th: I seem to have contracted this virus, as well as one other nurse. Hard to think with this headache. Ebola treatments don't seem to be working, and it seems to affect intelligence, if that makes sense. \n\nFebruary 11th: pain goed away, make me feel better. Man in coat say I doctor, but he stop playing with me soon as I try poking him with pointy thing. Make me sit here, push buttons to make words. Want my thoughts. I think I need go bathroom. Now done going bathroom, need new pants. Why I is here in white place?\n\nFebruary 12th: [addendum from cdc files] quarantine was successful, due to quick thinking from original attending. Samples of virus have been sent to Atlanta for further testing and cataloging. Virus seems manmade, but quickly burns itself out once the purpose is complete. Seems to cause a complete regression in the patient, in a matter of days, to a childlike state. Unsure if possible to undo damage. President has been informed of potential biological weapon, warned that more may surface in the coming months. Vaccine being attempted from modified ebola treatment.", "January 1\n\nHappy new year!\nSchofield killed himself last night. Selfish fuck. Part of his suicide note said, \"I'm not gonna become one of these fucking monkeys.\" Fun thing about Schofield: once when he mistakenly thought his IQ test had come back with a score of 112 he got so angry he destroyed 3000$ worth of lab equipment. He never could handle anyone being smarter than him. But I get it, growing stupid must have been hell for him. All his life he's been trying to get smarter and smarter and then he loses it all in a matter of days. Selfish arrogant fuck.\nI'm pissed off because I can't understand his fucking notes and I'm sure he made them hard to understand just so he could act like a know-it-all towards anyone who asked him. And could at least have waited until we got back the results from the human trials.\n\n\nJanuary 10\n\nHuman trials have been interrupted. 38 out of 50 subjects rapidly developed life threatening respiratory problems. The drug seemed to have stopped the cognitive decline though, so maybe if we could just treat the side effects this could be it! The government is pretty desperate; I don't think a couple of deaths are gonna stop them from green lighting more trials.\n\n\nJanuary 11\n\nNext human trials green already. It's almost too quick, we don't really know that much about the respiratory failure. Trivers think it's autoimmune though so maybe some good old fashioned immunosuppressants will work? We've got enough participants to try every drug on the market so maybe we don't even have to understand this. Just let empiricism do the work.\n\nJanuary 20\n\nok... So the immunosuppressants seems to have (1) made the lung disease worse, (2) INCREASED the speed of cognitive decline. This batch went from normal to severely disordered in 7 days! You know, I start to think it was good you didn't hang around Schofield.\n\n\nFebruary 3\n\nWas overlooking the regression analysis of our data. It was the data from the second trials. I felt kind of slow. It was hard to understand the interaction effect. Trivers said I shouldn't worry. Interaction effects are always hard to understand. But I worry.\n\n\nFebruary 7\n\nTrivers said I shouldn't go to work anymore. He said I'm infected. I don't know how I didn't notice. I feel so stupid. Stupid and worthless. I wish I could help.\n\n\nFebruary 10\n\nCatherine yelled at me. I forgot to buy milk. Catherine was mean and she doesn't understand.\n\n\nFebruary 11\n\nTrivers gave me pills. He said I would become smart again. Trivers looked sad. The pills taste funny.\n\n\nFebruary 14\n\nLungs hurt.", "Dr. Bob Smith. \n\nCDC Research operative. Level 7 clearance. \n\nDate ; 15/07/2020\n\nNotes from research of stultus virus. \n\nWe have found that the virus effects the neurotransmitters in a subjects brain. Leading to a slowing down and eventually loss / diminishing in the brains cognitive abilities. \n\nThis slowing down of basicall thinking functions means that the dude in question slowly gets dumbrere as the virus gets all up in der brains. \n\nIt is not known yet how da virus moves aboot but we theorize that mayb coz it can be transmitted via spit and gross body junk. \n\nOh man, I just found the best cat gif. \n\nhttp://i.imgur.com/ia86FQK.gif\n\nLook at de pretty kitty. \n\nI should get a comcast internet. I'm hungry too. Should get one of dem 7-11 hot dogs. \n\n", "February Fourteenth, 2012, 8:32 AM.\n\nI have just arrived at the laboratory for the sixteenth day of trials for Imbecillin^TM. So far no changes in brain function have been observed after numerous trials on various subjects. Physical changes have been noted however as the eye color of sixteen patients have gone a pale white. Medical professionals were consulted, and the subjects who experienced the change went under various tests to determine if this has negatively affected their vision. Results indicate that their is no change in vision. Commencing the bi-hourly Imbecillin^TM injections.\n\nFebruary Fourteenth, 2012, 3:02 PM.\n\nAt approximately 2:30 PM a patient called the nurses to complain about a headache. I entered the examination room to administer the injection roughly five minutes later to the patient convulsing on the bed. I ran to the side of the patient's bed to aid the nurses in keeping the patient's head safely away from the sides of the bed. The patient stopped convulsing moments later, and stared me in the eyes, whimpered, and then proceeded to vomit blood onto myself and the two nurses. I have been given the rest of the day off to recuperate and calm my nerves.\n\nFebruary Twenty Second, 2012, 8:05 AM.\n\nAfter much consideration I requested a move from the administration of the drug Imbecillin^TM and have requested work in the sinthesis of the drug. I will mostly be putting the vials of drug into the spinning machine and making sure the drug is good to take. On my return from my leave I have discovered that seven of the patients experiencing the eye color change have passed, and six more now remain in the intentsive care unit. I have been experiencing mild headaches and notable pressure in my behind nose regions. I'm sure I just have a coldy and will recover in the following days.\n\nFebruary Twenty Second, 2012, 7:12 PM.\nFirst day is over, it was relaxing. The soft purring of the machine reminded me of my child hood pet Thomas. Sometimes I have dreams about Thomas, he was a quiet cat with a ravaging hunger for all things rodent. Interestingly enough I find my headaches have gone and been replaced by a warm feeling in my tummy that rises up to the tippy top of my head and flows back down. I should probably keep an eye on that.\n\nFebuary Twenty Third, 2012, 9:30 AM.\n\nI was late to the lab today as I was intrigued by the clock on the wall. I was desprately trying to understand why it was trying to tell me someones name. After an hour of consideration and brain thinking I determined the clock was not infact trying to tell me a name, but rather that an hour had passed since 8:08. My lab magician supervisor seemed somewhat concerned with my attitude as of late, questioning why there was a sticky substance on the lab counters. I had attempted to make marshmallows in the lab last night, but found that the taste of natural gas does not mix well with that of a sugary delight.\n\nFebuary Twenty Fourth, 2012, 9:30 AM\nI have refound my pencil, it was hiding under the desk. I find my self struggling with words, the once complex thoughts that I had are now pushed out of the way by awe at simple things. I have taken a blood sample and will try too figure out if i have contracted the disese. I must remain strong. If I am regressing to a child like intelligence please make it noted that I am fully aware. I have resined my position at the labratory as I believe the future of Imbecillin rests in good hands and I do not wish to taint that. Good luck my friends, my colleagues, hopefully I will see you on a brighter day.\n\nMarch Sixteen 2012 mid-day\nmy dear Angeline,\nI am not ok. i struggle with the most basic of intellectual tasks. i have given away my pets as i cannot remember to feed them at the correct times. i have recieved varios letters in the box to say i am late for rent and other payments, i no this is supposed to be bad but i cannot figure out how to access my electric device. i have no one to help me and i need you to help me. i have not recieved the newpaper for 3 days, r they closer to a cure?\nlove, Hue.\n\napril thirteen 2012\n\nhi. i no i can not explane wat i am trying to say good. an old work friend came to me before today and told me that the drug i made was no good. i am stil aware deep down that i am not this. i never herd from my angie. i hope she is good. i am sad. the goverment is still working and has shut us off. their are people who cannot get dumb, and they have been moved away as well. we are alone. i do not want to be this way. i do not.\n\nhue duncan phd\n\nNinja Edit: Formatting stuff." ]	4
	[WP] While mining for gems deep in a natural cavern, a rat scurries past. You hurl a fireball spell to torch it, and in the corner of your eye you catch sight of a peculiar artifact - which you quickly come to find may have world changing implications if used.	[ "Grinning manically, I charged further into the tent with purpose. My master, my previous master I should say, glared at me with a fiery hatred. The workstation was in tatters, the ancient books of magic burned to ash, herbs and spell components lying inert in pools of salt water.\n\n\n“How dare you, Thomas, threaten ME. I will show you what a wretch of a being you are. You will regret destroying my studies, my work, my possessions.” He raised his hands in front of him, pantomiming the symbols for fire, then wind, then gravity, consecutively in a fluid motion. If I hadn’t held him in utter contempt, it might even be impressive. He truly was a gifted magician…but a poor human being who didn’t deserve the power his magic gave him. Today was the day it changed.\n\n\nHis hands attempted to contain me in a fiery tornado of pain and torment, but when his cast ended, nothing happened. My grin devoured my face. I could see his eyes flash in frustration, and then confusion. He attempted in the incantation again, again, once more. Then, the fear took hold.\n\n\n“What…what did you do?” The power drained from his voice considerably. He was weak, now, pathetic. He cowered in the corner as I advanced. My hands twitched.\n\n\n“I evened the playing field.” With that, I produced the gun from my waistband and shot my previous master in the forehead. He crumpled at my feet.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n[FOUR HOURS EARLIER]\n\n\nThomas could be seen, trudging up the familiar path to the mouth of the cave. For weeks, he and his master had camped on the other side of the cliff, spending hour after hour gathering resources in the cave. The gems were nothing special, but the abundance of them was astounding. Eventually, the old man tired of the menial task, and instead sent Thomas to continue the manual labor. The master had more important things to do with his time.\n\n\nGrumbling under his breath, Thomas continued to the tunnel he last left off. Stooping down, he began to dig with his bare hands, shoving gemstone after gemstone into his bag. He had attempted to use a simple levitation spell to help make his work faster, but Thomas was a below average wizard. His skills were mediocre and trivial in comparison to his brute strength…something the old man outside never let him forget. \n\n\nLost in his own fantasies of watching the old man die a painful and horrible death, Thomas didn’t notice the rats scurrying through the hole he had just created. As the last one scampered through, it brushed Thomas’ knee, causing him to jump. Upon instinct, he cast a fireball spell to destroy the tiny creature, but only managed a tiny ball of light the size of his fingertip. \n\n\nSighing in despair at his woeful skills, Thomas turned back to his task. Just as he was about to put the fire out, it glinted off an obsidian substance just a few feet further in the tunnel. Curiosity got the best of him and Thomas went after the object.\n\n\nA sleek tablet, carved entirely of smooth obsidian, lay against the tunnel wall. As if resistant to the wear and tear of time, the object was pristine, fine silver lines etching across the top in an ancient language. If there was one thing Thomas excelled at, it was language, and this beautiful writing excited him more than any spell could. He spent the rest of the day deciphering the tablet only to find the spell it contained to be of utter simplicity. Nothing complex or incredible about it. Just a few lines of incantations, with a minor ritual. In fact, it was so simple, even Thomas would be able to perform it.\n\n\nAfter uttering the words and performing the ritual, Thomas waited. He waited some more. And when nothing happened for 10 more minutes, he sighed and tossed the tablet to the side. He couldn’t even perform such a simple ritual correctly. He just wasn’t cut out to be a wizard. Magic wasn’t his thing. But to go home, studies incomplete, would be far worse shame and embarrassment than finishing his apprenticeship to become a nobody wizard. Thomas was stuck between a rock and a hard place.\n\n\nDeciding now was not the time to contemplate the failures of his life, he stood and brushed the dirt off his knees. Taking one more glance at the tablet, he turned to leave it behind once and for all when he realized he was looking at the BACK of the tablet. And there was writing there. In his excitement, Thomas must have forgotten to turn the object over! Filled with a renewed hope, he picked it up once more and examined the scribbling. One line. Strange, for a spell, but who knows, maybe it was the first of its kind! \n\n\nReading it, Thomas furrowed his eyebrows. The line didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t the continuation of the spell. It sounded more like… a title. “Magic to End All Magic.”\n\n\nTurning it over in his hands a few more times, an idea started to brew in Thomas’ mind. Magic to end all magic. Did the spell rid the world of magic? Did Thomas in fact recite it correctly? Only one way to find out.\n\n\nTaking a deep breath, Thomas held his hands out and began the incantation for a fireball spell. Even though he was weak technically, Thomas could always produce at least a little flame. But at the end of his spell, nothing happened. A few more times, and still no fireball was produced. As it dawned on Thomas the gravity of this new reality, he laughed. He laughed until his sides hurt. He stood up with reinvigorated hope and stomped purposefully out of the cave, and towards the camp.\n\n\nThere, Thomas set to work to make all his fantasies come true.", "I couldn't stop staring...\nIt was by blind luck I had found it, the rat had spooked me and I instinctively drew the symbol in the air to cast a fire spell. As the flame approached the rat, I saw it.\nLegend told of a spell tome incomparable to all others, held by the Archsage Egrur during the great war 600 years ago. The spell had only been used twice. Once it was used to test its powers. And once it was used to end The Mad King Latimer’s conquest of Isturan. \n\nThe King had pushed the combined armies of the Elves, The Orcs, the Dragonkin, and the Dwarves to the edge of the Continent. The Alliance put everything they had into a final assault to stop the human’s conquest. The battle had not fared well for the alliance however, a traitor warned the king of the attack and the entirety of the Alliance's vanguard was wiped out. Just as the Humans prepared for a counterattack, Egrur emerged from the ranks of the Alliance forces. From his bag he drew the book, a spell book nobody had ever seen. And then the sage drew a casting symbol in the air, the book glowed, and the entirety of Latimer’s army was consumed by the earth as lava and hellfire sprouted from the ground for miles.\n\t\nAnd here it was… the legendary fire spell known as “Gibil”. I had come to the cavern looking for a few gems or some gold to buy new spells but this was on an entire new level. I reached at the book and was taken aback by the hand that was already on it. \n\n“Who’s there?” I yelled to the darkness\n\nThere was no answer, only silence. I removed a torch from my bag, and lit it with a fire spell.\nThere he was, The Archsage Egrur, still clutching his spellbook. Arrows protruded from the old mans rotted flesh, the body being surprisingly preserved after so many years. I removed the rotted hand from the Tome and took Gibil into my hands. I instantly felt its power as my internal mana pools adapted to the glyphs and formulas written inside. It Felt Gooooood.\n\t\nMany moons had passed since I had found Gibil. My wealth had matched my fame, I was known all around Isturan as the New Archsage. The king had hired me as Isturan’s head wizard, and all feared the books power, although I had never used it once. Tension had begun with the Orcs, who remained angry about the Great War 600 years prior.The King had sent me to the Orc capital of Nar’ithuk to \"negotiate\" with them.\n\t\n“Humans are weak but unpredictable.” Growled the Orc Chieftain “This is why you must all be destroyed; I’ll send your head back to the king as my declaration of war. “\n\t\nThe two sentinels accompanying me cowered in fear, drawing their swords to face the 20 enclosing orcs. I could only smile; the chieftain had finally given me a reason to use Gibil. I raised my hand into the air drawing the spell symbol for Gibil in front of me in the air. All of my mana began to surge at once I felt it draw power from every mana pool in my body, the floor split in the areas all around me, a bubble of fire surrounded my companions and I. And then flames and lava shot from the cracks. First the Orcs were consumed, than I watched as the castle was consumed, and then I watched in awe as the Orc capitol sunk beneath a sea of Lava which stretched as far as my eyes could see. The flames ceased and the Lava cooled, and where the Orc capitol once stood there was nothing but the remains of a few charred buildings and the smell of burnt flesh.\n\tThe sentinels both dropped their swords and fell to their knees. I took a deep breath as my mana pools refilled themselves with the magic in the air. I turned to the two men who stared petrified at their archsage.\n\t\n“Sir… you killed them… the women the children... everything… you incinerated everything… you did what the entirety of the human army couldn't do in a decade….. And you did it in 5 minutes.”\n\nI smiled at the man as I began to walk back towards our capital.\n\n“MONSTER!” \n\nScreamed the second man as he charged with his sword. I snapped my fingers and the soldier burst into flames, he would have screamed if his lungs weren't charred. \n\nI turned to the only other living being in Nar’ithuk\n\n“I’m no monster” \n\nI smiled\n \n“I am a god.”\n\n\n\n\n \n" ]	2
	[WP] A man allows a soldier to escape with his life during a war, years later he is telling his story to his son's classmates, one of the fathers in the room stands up in shock as the story goes on.	[ "\"Sir, may I help you?\" Naran ventured.\n\nThe short, stout man at the end of the room kept standing, eyes wide, mouth agape. Finally, he seemed to get himself together and said, \"I think I'm the man you're talking about. I was one of the soldiers guarding the pentagon that night. It was very dark, like you said, and it was raining, so I never clearly saw my assailant, but I was disarmed just like you described.\"\n\nNaran was intrigued. A closer look at the trembling man triggered his own memories of the night. Yes, this was the guy. The last twenty years had not been kind to the former soldier. He had gained weight, his hair had thinned out, his face had sagged and the lines around his eyes had darkened, but this was definitely him. Unlike his former opponent, Naran had had a good look at him in infrared before letting him go.\n\n\"I'm glad to meet you in more civilized circumstances, Mr...\"\n\n\"Petrov. Vitaly Petrov.\"\n\n\"-Mr. Petrov.\" Naran continued. \"I had no reason to harm you that night because you didn't try to attack me directly. We never intended to harm anyone, you know. We only wanted to help.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Vitaly sighed, \"If we had only realized then what we do now. I only knew something was wrong when you let me escape. They were lying to us.\"\n\n\"What has happened cannot be undone, Mr. Petrov. It wasn't your fault, but the arrogance, ignorance and hubris of your leaders that led to so many deaths. That chapter of humanity is behind you now.\"\n\nNaran slowly moved up to the former soldier of the Human Resistance and extended a silicon polymer tentacle. Vitaly Petrov grabbed it with his flesh and blood hand and shook, tears starting to form at the corner of his eyes.\n\n\"Thank you,\" said the Earthling to the Andromedan as they all hurled through space in a thousand mile metal craft, in search of a new home.", "\"My brother...\"\n\nTears well up in the mans eyes. His fists clench.\n\n\"My brother was killed by a soldier spared in that very battle!\"\n\nThey're angry tears. Angry fists.\n\nThe teacher - a short, grey haired woman with thick spectacles, at the front of the class - stammers, \"It's obviously a ridiculous coinciden--\"\n\n\"His name was Boris!\" yells the man. Kids start crying. The father at the head of the room looks at him slack-jawed.\n\n\"Einrich? Boris Einrich?\"\n\n\"THAT IS THE NAME OF THE MAN WHO KILLED MY BROTHER!\"\n\n\"Woah,\" goes the father, \"I was just making shit up to look good in-front of my kid...\"\n\nThe deflated, outraged man, finger frozen pointing at the father, opens and closes his mouth. Makes words, but none of them come out.\n\n\"GET OUT BOTH OF YOU!\" screams the teacher." ]	2
	[WP] You're in unimaginative Redditor trying to come up with a writing prompt	[ "So here I am writing a writing prompt about writing about writing a writing prompt. Well the prompt does suggest that what I am writing is still valid, I guess I could write about anything. Lets see, I guess to get Redditors interested, I should write about cats. Nah, its been done too many times. I should talk about sex, or how they can increase their social status. \n\nHumans love novelty. Hmm, whats a new novel idea that I can write about that would get a lot of attention. OH maybe if I write everything that comes at the top of my head into a writing prompt, maybe it would be novel enough to not get down voted. It is a gamble, sure, but worth a try. God this is stupid. I'm pressing save...", "I woke up. I had been reading a book before sleeping. The art of writing is fabulous, really! I often wondered whether I was destined to be a great writer. Everything I thought of writing, my thoughts went to the writing prompts subreddit. I had discovered reddit a year ago. I thought it was a car photos site but then I discovered writing prompts and ahem other subreddits. I decided to visit the subreddit. As always, there were many prompts, but the good ones all already had many comments and I was shire that if I wrote something, it would sink right to the bottom. I needed ideas, new ones. Suddenly, a thought popped into my mind, what if I submitted a prompt for getting ideas? Genius, really! Maybe I am destined to be a great genius, solving all the problems that plague this world. Excited by the prospects, my hands trembling, I typed: [WP] You are an unimaginative redditor trying to come up with a writing prompt.\nP.S.: Feedback would be much appreciated." ]	2

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